Secrets hurt

Ch 2

Dick squeezed his arm, putting enough pressure on it that his fingernails would've been digging into the flesh of his arm had it not been covered in the light kevlar blend his suit was made from.

He tried to remain as still and silent as possible, folding himself into the shadows.

Bruce was looking for him, or so he'd heard. Last he'd seen the man had been running around with a group of teens, telling them to fan out and sweep the city.

He had no doubt he'd be able to remain hidden. If anything had come from the past few years it surely would be that, but he was having a hard time convincing himself that he should.

Dick's hold tightened slightly on his arm as his opposing thoughts warred In his mind.

One half of him wanted to believe that Bruce knew who he was... that he was so intent on finding him so he could bring him home... while the other half of him remembered the exact words Bruce had used when he'd kicked him out.

Gotham... his little family of Bruce, him, and Alfred... they needed him less now than they did when he'd first left.

But the hopeful side of him had let him stay, nudging him to run to his former father figure and be wrapped in the safety of his embrace.

His hope was slowly killing him it seemed, every day driving him closer and closer to the bat.

—

Nightwing had been evading Bruce for months now. Sightings here and there, a well timed batarang during a fight... but they had yet to find any information on him.

Bruce stared at the nearly empty file on Nightwing, mulling over their latest encounter in his head. There had been a moment when they'd locked eyes during a fight, and it had seemed so familiar. He had seemed so familiar.

—

Months later Bruce and Dick stood face to face.

Dick was clutching his heavily bleeding arm, his mask lying in some Gotham alley.

Bruce was speechless for a long moment. "Dick?" He breathed, almost as if he was afraid the man in front of him would shatter if he spoke too loudly.

Dick stiffened. "Now you know... now leave me alone," he said, vision starting to swirl from blood loss and pain.

Bruce took a step closer to the acrobat. "Come home Dick," he urged quietly. "Come back to the manor with me.

"You don't want me there," Dick replied, stumbling back only to find his back run up against a wall.

"I do want you there," Bruce said. "I... I know what I said all those years ago... and I'm sorry. I never should have pushed you away. Made you feel unwanted."

"No," Dick insisted. "You DON'T want me there... trust me."

Bruce's brow furrows slightly, and he continued walking forward, lifting a hand to cup Dick's face.

Dick leaned into the gentle touch for a moment before flinching back.

Bruce sighed. "Dick," he said quietly. "Please come home."

Dick let out a breath, sagging forward against Bruce's chest, unable to help himself from letting out a quiet sob.

Bruce wrapped his son in a hug, slinging the acrobat's good arm over his shoulders and heading back to the Batmobile.

—

"Don't tell me you brought home another stray," Tim complained when Bruce and Dick exited the Batmobile.

Dick stiffened, eyes darting between the three boys in front of him as he subconsciously shifted closer to Bruce.

"He is, in fact, the first one I ever brought home," Bruce replied stiffly, guiding Dick over to one of the medical beds.

"You told us he'd died," Damian stated, arms folded across his chest.

Dick stiffened at that, turning to Bruce for an explanation despite the fact he felt like he was going to pass out any second.

"We looked for him for years," Bruce said quietly, avoiding eye contact with everyone. "The city had declared him dead long before I stopped looking."

Dick curled in on himself slightly. He knew exactly how long he'd been gone... and judging by the fact that he now had three replacements... Bruce hadn't been looking for very much of that time.

"Well," Jason said, trying to make the situation just a bit lighter. "Nice to have another legally dead man on the team." He stuck out his hand, waiting for Dick to shake it. "Name's Jason."

Dick awkwardly shook Jason's hand, glancing between his replacements. His heart ached as he began to wonder what had made Bruce want them and not him.

"Uhh... he looks like he's about to pass out," Tim pointed out.

Bruce caught Dick as his knees buckled, lifting him up onto the gurney. "Damian go get Alfred," he said, trying to keep his voice calm.

"B... 'm fine," Dick mumbled, his eyes falling closed for a moment.

His wounded arm had long since stopped bleeding, though the amount of the sticky liquid that had soaked his suit was still alarming...

The real problem was how long it had been since he'd had an actual meal... too long so it seemed.

Dick's stomach had long since given up begging for food, but he could still feel the aching emptiness. 'Note to self... can't live without food,' he thought absentmindedly.

"And why would Master Damian be getting me?" Alfred's asked, standing in the doorway to the med bay with a tray of post patrol snacks.

Dick perked up when he heard the butler's voice, pushing himself up off the bed to catch a glimpse of the man.

The sound of shattering glass filled the cave, the contents of the tray Alfred had been holding scattered across the ground.

Alfred didn't even look down, however, as he made his way over to Dick's bedside, reaching out a hand and cupping the acrobat's cheek as if confirming to himself that he was real.

Dick's eyes fell closed again in the comforting presence of his grandfather figure, a passing thought about telling Bruce how hungry he was flitting briefly through his mind before everything was consumed in peaceful darkness.