[ Dick has always been one of the warmest, brightest parts of Bruce's life. How so much exuberance and kindness and warmth and life fit into one person so neatly baffled him but there was Dick Grayson - impossible human being. He's what Batman could have been if Bruce had even an ounce of Dick's light. He's proof that tragedy did not have to calcify into vengeance. That it could be tempered into something gentler - compassion and empathy.
Batman inspired fear. Nightwing inspired trust. He laughed easily and loved fiercely through the same kind of pain that made them what they are. Just carried with a grace that Bruce had never managed to find.
It's selfish to want that for himself, to cling to it and cover it over so no one else could bask in the glow of it. He'd keep it to himself so no one else could experience what loving Dick Grayson felt like.
He'd snatch him right out of the sky. ]
Why did you let him go?
[ He watched Waylon's tracker recede further into the tunnel, the blinking red dropping out of existence on the radar. Maybe he found the tracker, maybe he smashed it while diving into the murky waters beneath Gotham. Bruce would have to find him again.
He isn't mad.
He's a little mad.
On another screen, the tracer he gave Dick isolates the signal emanating from Dick's personal tracker, intercepts it. Catalogues it. And Bruce watches it happen without saying another word. ]
[ Dick shrinks into the tunnel Waylon uncovered, knowing it'll lead him back to the surface. Bruce's voice is in his ear, that cold, unaffected tone expressing displeasure loud and clear.
This is why he wanted to break free in the first place, his spirit too wild to be tethered to Bruce's weight, to hopeful to be contained by Bruce's care, his love, yet Bruce's gravity constantly pulls him back.
He has to take a few beats to formulate an answer in terms Bruce might accept (not something he's used to doing reflexively anymore) and navigate at the same time. His voice comes flat, the playful tone suffocated out of it. ]
So he'd let the guards go. I thought you wanted me to stop him from killing anyone else.
[ For a moment, Bruce's focus shifts. A few quick keystrokes and it seems the tracer's done its job. Dick's signal is faint, weak. Encrypted. Probably anticipated Bruce trying to to access it. But Bruce has already set the computer to start the decryption process.
Finally, he speaks up. ]
This is a temporary fix. Jones isn't known for his patience.
[ It's not lost on Bruce how flat Dick sounds now as if the vibrancy has been smothered out of him. It's not lost on Bruce that it's partially his fault. ]
[ there's a pause and a few taps on the keyboard, but Dick doesn't catch the quiet sound of it over the echoes in the sewers. it's true. he doesn't have a lot of time, and Dick, as always, has promised a big promise. ]
No. Just a few scratches. Nothing like what he did to you.
[ there's a tenderness in his voice, mixed in with all the protectiveness, softening the anger that made him want to hurt Waylon back. ]
[ Perhaps it was meant to sting a little, a bit of a prod beneath a cloak of humour. However, he immediately feels bad about it.
Not that he would say as much. ]
You should be resting.
[ He ends the call shortly after and heads back to the cave anyway. He strips off Nightwing and soaks off the sewers in a shower before finally making it down in just a pair of shorts and a towel slung over his shoulders. Thereโs a tracker left in the suit, and a tracker buried in his upper thigh, both possibilities for Bruceโs decryption. His hair is still damp as he steps up to the desk and pulls Bruceโs attention to himself.
Slowly, he gives Bruce a once-over. ]
I thought you were supposed to be horizontal. What are you doing up?
[ He should be doing a lot of things. There were case files to sift through and organize. Evidence to catalogue. Notes to prepare. None of it he could do if he had resigned himself to being a good patient. He's never been one of those, not when there's work to be done.
There's nothing to say to that, so Bruce doesn't protest the ending of the call and only spares Nightwing a glance when he comes home. He gets more than a glance when he comes back from the showers. For once, he gets Bruce's full attention. No new injuries that he could note. He seemed to be walking fine. No pupil dilation.
Dick is fine and Bruce gets back to work. ]
I'm fine. Come look at this. Medical reports buried under a few outdated security protocols. They were trying to replicate Jones's regenerative ability.
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theknightshift) wrote2024-11-12 08:56 pm
no subject
Batman inspired fear. Nightwing inspired trust. He laughed easily and loved fiercely through the same kind of pain that made them what they are. Just carried with a grace that Bruce had never managed to find.
It's selfish to want that for himself, to cling to it and cover it over so no one else could bask in the glow of it. He'd keep it to himself so no one else could experience what loving Dick Grayson felt like.
He'd snatch him right out of the sky. ]
Why did you let him go?
[ He watched Waylon's tracker recede further into the tunnel, the blinking red dropping out of existence on the radar. Maybe he found the tracker, maybe he smashed it while diving into the murky waters beneath Gotham. Bruce would have to find him again.
He isn't mad.
He's a little mad.
On another screen, the tracer he gave Dick isolates the signal emanating from Dick's personal tracker, intercepts it. Catalogues it. And Bruce watches it happen without saying another word. ]
how dare
This is why he wanted to break free in the first place, his spirit too wild to be tethered to Bruce's weight, to hopeful to be contained by Bruce's care, his love, yet Bruce's gravity constantly pulls him back.
He has to take a few beats to formulate an answer in terms Bruce might accept (not something he's used to doing reflexively anymore) and navigate at the same time. His voice comes flat, the playful tone suffocated out of it. ]
So he'd let the guards go. I thought you wanted me to stop him from killing anyone else.
no subject
Finally, he speaks up. ]
This is a temporary fix. Jones isn't known for his patience.
[ It's not lost on Bruce how flat Dick sounds now as if the vibrancy has been smothered out of him. It's not lost on Bruce that it's partially his fault. ]
Are you alright? Did he hurt you?
no subject
No. Just a few scratches. Nothing like what he did to you.
[ there's a tenderness in his voice, mixed in with all the protectiveness, softening the anger that made him want to hurt Waylon back. ]
Why? You worry about me now?
no subject
I will always be concerned about you, Dick.
[ He puts something else on the screen of the computer decrypting Dick's signal. In anticipation of his return. ]
Come back to the cave. I'm accessing Iron Heights' files. I might have a lead.
no subject
Not that he would say as much. ]
You should be resting.
[ He ends the call shortly after and heads back to the cave anyway. He strips off Nightwing and soaks off the sewers in a shower before finally making it down in just a pair of shorts and a towel slung over his shoulders. Thereโs a tracker left in the suit, and a tracker buried in his upper thigh, both possibilities for Bruceโs decryption. His hair is still damp as he steps up to the desk and pulls Bruceโs attention to himself.
Slowly, he gives Bruce a once-over. ]
I thought you were supposed to be horizontal. What are you doing up?
no subject
There's nothing to say to that, so Bruce doesn't protest the ending of the call and only spares Nightwing a glance when he comes home. He gets more than a glance when he comes back from the showers. For once, he gets Bruce's full attention. No new injuries that he could note. He seemed to be walking fine. No pupil dilation.
Dick is fine and Bruce gets back to work. ]
I'm fine. Come look at this. Medical reports buried under a few outdated security protocols. They were trying to replicate Jones's regenerative ability.