Chapter Text
Nightwing landed atop a building, the highest in all of Bludhaven, feeling the hard concrete beneath his boots and released a breath in the frigid winter air.
Patrols were quiet tonight. Something he would never be used to, no matter how many quiet nights there were. Which, really, was a rarity in Bludhaven. If Nightwing was being completely honest, Blud was far worse than Gotham had ever dreamt of being. A vile cesspool of some of the most evil people that Dick had ever had the displeasure of meeting or apprehending. Every day, he was surprised at the desperation of man, the evil that lived within the souls of this godless city.
Yet it was his.
Bludhaven was his, and he loved every part of it. He loved the light he saw peeking through the darkness, loved it enough to risk everything to make the city a better place for those who couldn’t just up and leave. Bludhaven wasn’t like Gotham with its pretty little distractions; Blud was like Crime Alley, only it seemed to envelope the entirety of the city, this raw desperation for more.
Maybe that was what appealed to Dick when he had moved here so many years before—ten years ago, to be exact. Despite the horror and evil, so many Bludhaven civilians still had this desire to live, to continue on and do everything that they could to make their existence a good one. Which, wasn’t that what he did? Try as hard as he could to make his existence a good one despite the lot he had been given in life? To continue forward even when it seemed impossible to do so?
Dick's life wasn’t horrible, not by any means. He was lucky; he had a father who loved him, siblings who adored him, and a home.
Yet he didn’t seem to be enough.
If he had been, wouldn’t Barbara still be here with him? Would she still have left him last week after months of supposed happiness between them? Would he still have his job if he had been enough?
That was the straw that broke the camel's back for Barbara. Dick came home one night to find her and all of her things gone. His number had been blocked. He had received the message loud and clear after one too many attempts to reach her. She was done. Done with him and done with their relationship.
Which was only fair.
Dick wasn’t the best partner, not by a long shot. Not what Barbara deserved. He was better off alone than with anyone else.
Domino-covered eyes scanned the area around him, looking for anything that might seem out of the ordinary. Tonight really was far too quiet, as if the city itself knew that Dick was going through a difficult time and wanted to give him some semblance of a break.
The night was dark and overcast, a little after two in the morning; cars honked in the distance, he could see some folks on the sidewalk, likely walking home from a shift on the corner if their clothes meant anything—short skirts, thigh-high boots, and busty shirts. Their hair was pulled into messy buns, necks tense with exhaustion. He watched the two women for a moment, looking for any sign of anything out of place.
They would get home safely on his watch, that was for sure.
He shot out his grappling gun and propelled himself down the building. Just as his feet landed atop the asphalt, though, he heard a blood-curdling scream that had him whirling on his feet towards where the girls were. One had her hands to her mouth, staring down at something in horror, while the other had her hand wrapped around the former’s wrist, desperately trying to pull her away from whatever it was that elicited the scream. Dick tucked his grappling gun into his belt and strode towards the two women in quick steps, hand already on an escrima, prepared for whatever he would see.
“Ladies, is everything alright?” he asked.
“Nightwing,” the second woman said, relief evident in her features. She was older than Dick had initially suspected, looking to be around mid-forties or so.
“He’s dead,” the woman beside her whispered, finally pulling her hands from her mouth.
Dick frowned.
“Who?”
His eyes flicked towards where the younger woman was staring to find a body that had been shoved against the wall inside the alleyway in a sitting position. He had his hood up, covering his face from view, and the thighs of his pants were soaked with blood. The man was missing his shoes, his jeans an assortment of stains—the colors ranging from rust to dark black in some areas. His hands were placed in his hoodie pocket, one foot crossed over the other as if he just been casually sitting there for a while.
Dick clucked his tongue as he crouched down. “You two get out of here and get home safe. I’ll handle this, alright?”
He heard the scrape of heels on concrete as the two took off down the sidewalk. Dick pressed two fingers to the man’s throat, finding no pulse. He let out a soft breath and pushed back the man's hoodie to find a perfectly blank face staring back at him.
Blue, milky eyes stared unseeing before him. Blond hair sat matted atop the man’s head, blood and grime clumping at the roots. Dick’s brow furrowed. He had to be in his early twenties, maybe even late teens, somewhere between eighteen and twenty-one if Dick had to guess. He slipped his hand into the hoodie pocket, ignoring the chill that seemed to seep from the body, but only found the victim's hands laced together—definitely staged. He checked the pants pockets before coming up short and shook his head.
Very well.
He grabbed a burner from his pocket and called his contact at the police precinct.
“Nightwing?” a familiar voice asked. Dick could tell he had woken her up based on how hoarse her voice sounded
“Amy,” Dick said, just a bit short, unable to hide all of the negative feelings he still held for the detective. She was the reason he had to turn in his badge, but she was a good cop nonetheless. One who truly wanted to see the best in people and wanted to make Bludhaven a better place, just as he did. “Found a body on Tenth and Western. Young man, between eighteen and twenty-one, blond hair, blue eyes. Seems posed, like someone wanted him to be found.”
“Shit,” Amy cursed, and Dick nodded in agreement.
“Shit indeed,” he said and lifted the end of the victim’s hoodie; he sucked in a breath. “Huge incision on the abdomen. Looks like it was stitched up by someone who knew what they were doing, too. Not pretty.”
“Leave the body where you found it, Dick. I’m on my way,” she said before hanging up the phone.
Dick stepped back from the body and rolled his shoulders just a bit.
Amy Rohrbach was one of the best detectives on the Bludhaven police force. So good that she had been the one to figure out Dick’s identity as Nightwing and, while she supported him, had been one of the reasons he hadn’t fought his firing. In fact, Amy had helped orchestrate it. Not because she was out to get him, but because she was right to think that it was incredibly stupid on Dick’s part to think that he could be a detective and Nightwing at the same time.
Besides, he did more good as Nightwing than he did as Detective Grayson.
Dick slipped the burner phone into his suit and let out a sigh as he leaned against the nearby building wall and stared at the body and gnawed on his lip. He had a feeling that this was going to be a case that would likely kick his ass for the next few weeks.
Dick carefully slipped into the ME’s office and walked towards the desk where he knew the file on the most recent body would be. He glanced at where the victim was laid out on a table, waiting to be bagged up.
He grabbed the folder from the top of the metal desk and flipped it open.
Stanley Gentry
Age: 19
Dick read over the rest, taking a picture of each page with his domino mask. The man was brought in missing his stomach and small intestine. He had been brutally attacked and sexually assaulted. According to the file, they had reason to believe that he had died from his wounds, meaning he had been alive during his…vivisection.
The blood in Dick's veins went icy as he continued to read over the autopsy notes. Whoever had taken Stanley had absolutely brutalized him before finally killing him. Not much made Dick feel sick to his stomach anymore but this, what the killer had done, it was fucked.
Evil beyond anything that Dick had ever seen before.
“Stanley Gentry, who did this to you,” Dick whispered, setting the file down.
He looked at the kid’s dead body for another moment, his eyes lingering on the incision that ran down Stanley’s chest, Dick’s heart pounding in his chest. It was far too reminiscent of another chest incision that Dick had seen so, so long ago. Stanley laid unmoving, but Dick promised him nonetheless that he would find his murderer.
Dick ran his fingers through his hair as he took a long drink from his glass. He stared out the window for a moment, taking in the cool autumn weather, the leaves that slowly floated to the ground, covering it in a blanket of reds and oranges. His shoulders were tense as he tried his best to let his body unwind, something that had been difficult in the days since finding Stanley Gentry’s body.
He was supposed to be hanging out with Wally and relaxing but he couldn’t seem to let himself. It had been three months since he found Stanley Gentry’s body. Since then, there had been four more bodies found, each one the same as Stanley’s—each one tortured and brutalized, each one missing different organs, but all found in similar ways to Stanley.
It wasn’t just the string of murders that weighed on Dick’s mind. Barbara still wasn’t talking to him, he had yet to find a job, and his savings account was dwindling before his eyes. He was damned if he was going to go to Bruce and ask for money, too; he’d rather throw himself off of Wayne Enterprises before he did that.
Not having Oracle in his ear seemed to be making the investigation even more difficult than it would have been with her. If he had Barbara to help, surely the entire case would have been cracked wide open already and the murderer behind bars. Instead, he had Bruce quietly poking at him, trying to see if he needed help, if he wasn’t handling the weight of Bludhaven on his own. He couldn’t let his father see him as weak, couldn’t handle the chance of his father doubting his abilities.
Not only that, but Bruce was aware that he and Barbara had broken up and he had been insufferable in his weird emotionally imcompetent way of checking in on Dick. For some reason, Bruce couldn’t seem to catch the hint that dick absolutely, positively did not want to talk about it. He didn’t even like thinking about how she had left him and cut him off so easily.
As if things couldn't get worse, Bludhaven just seemed to rise to the occasion with more obnoxious villains and more gang activity. The last ten years, despite having Nightwing to keep an eye on the city, crime seemed to just get worse as the city grew. Dick wasn’t enough anymore but he wasn’t sure what he could do about any of it. Even now, he was trying to have a nice time with his best friend but all he could think about was patrol and the fact that he wasn’t even in Bludhaven.
What if something happened? What if he missed it? What if another body was found?
“Dude, what’s going on?” Wally asked, looking at him, concern evident in his eyes.
“I don’t know,” Dick groaned after a few moments of trying to figure out how the hell he could answer such a loaded question. “Bludhaven is getting to be too much, and Nightwing is turning into a full-time job.”
“Maybe you need help,” Wally said, kicking his feet up on the coffee table. “Ya know, it killed me when I had to admit that I needed help. Bart had the most stupid shit eating grin on his face when I asked him.”
Dick snorted. “I can’t even imagine. Kid loves getting under your skin.”
“That he does,” Wally said with a sigh before he tilted his bottle of beer back and took a long drink. He set the bottle down and looked at Dick for a moment. “You know, you could probably ask Tim for help. From what Bart’s told me, he’s been thinking about leaving Gotham. Maybe you can convince him to move to Blud.”
Dick’s brow furrowed at that. He leaned forward, needing to know more. “What? Why does Tim want to leave Gotham?” Dick asked.
Dick tilted his head to the side.
Now that he thought about it, he hadn’t heard from his little brother for a few months now. He counted back to himself quietly. Tim had all but disappeared from patrols six months ago and rarely made appearances with Wayne Enterprises, but Bruce had told him it was because he was on a long-term mission with his team.
Was Tim already back?
Tim was the world’s worst at reaching out to his family. Typically, he checked in with Bruce and that was it. He'd started doing that when he was seventeen and it had only grown worse since then. Now that he was twenty, he rarely remembered to call and check in with others, but he always seemed elated to get phone calls or visits from Dick.
Maybe Dick’d need to go to his place and visit soon, see how his little brother was doing. See why he wanted to leave Gotham and what happened over his long mission.
“Bart didn’t say why,” Wally said, stirring Dick from his thoughts. “But I guess Tim’s been kinda going through it.”
Okay, Dick definitely needed to go catch up with his little brother if he was going through it. Misery loved company and all that. Or, he could help figure out what was going on with his brother, maybe evn help him with what he was going through.
“Do you know what their mission was?” he asked, looking up at Wally, his brow furrowed.
“No, no clue. Bart has been tight-lipped ever since they got home a few weeks ago. Seems to have them all a bit fucked up.”
Dick pursed his lips.
Tim’s team, the Newcomers, came out maybe a year ago and they had hit the ground running. The four had split from the Titans after a disagreement that they all refused to talk about and were set to go out on their own and do missions their own way, separate from the Justice League and the Titans. Surprisingly, Bruce more than approved of the team and Tim’s refusal to explain why.
Part of Dick still wondered about that. Why the two of them were more than okay with not allowing anyone to know why they split or why Bruce was so okay with it. Especially when he still kicked up a stink about the rest of them not working with the Justice League. Dick wanted to pick at it until he could get an answer from at least one of them but had settled for accepting that he would never know.
“I’ll have to go talk to him soon,” Dick murmured, running his fingers through his hair. “You know how Timmy is, he doesn’t reach out. He thinks he’s a burden if he does.”
“Wonder where he got that from,” Wally said sarcastically. “Look, just talk to him, see if he really is serious about leaving Gotham and if he is, ask him for his help in Bludhaven. It’s close enough he can still be near your cluster fuck of a family but also far enough for him to get his bearings, just like you did. Hell, it’s better than Bart’s suggestion, he’s trying to convince them to all to just move to space and complete space missions twenty-four-seven.”
Dick snorted. “Of course he is.”
Wally gave him an exasperated look as he kicked his foot up onto his knee and took another long drink from his beer.
“What’s scary is that Kon is slowly joining him in the idea. Can you imagine those four spending the majority of their time in space?” he asked. “Those four share a single brain cell and half the time they forget about it.”
“Cassie isn’t too bad,” Dick pointed out and Wally leveled him with a look. Dick winced. “Yeah, you’re right. There’s a reason those three are her boyfriends.”
“Exactly,” Wally said, pointing finger guns at Dick. “But I’m serious, Dick. Go talk to Tim, see if he can help you out, even if it’s just for a little bit. You look dead on your feet and we’re supposed to be hanging out.”
Dick sighed and took another drink of his beer.
Wally was right, he needed to talk to Tim and see if he could help out in Bludhaven for a while. Dick was drowning and his little brother was the most competent person he had ever met in his life. If anyone could help solve the string of murders, it would be Tim Drake-Wayne.
Dick knocked on the door of the former Monarch Theater and rocked on his heels as he waited for someone to open the door, his hands clasped behind his back.
Should he have called before just showing up at his brother’s house? Probably. But to be honest, that was never his and Tim’s relationship.
Tim should just be happy that Dick wasn’t trying to break in. Then again, that likely would end up badly for him. He shivered, thinking about the giant glue trap. He had initially set it out for Tim after the brat had judged his alarm system years ago. It caught a burglar, but Tim never let him forget it.
It also started the inside joke between Tim and Dick that had lasted for nearly a decade now. Tim would break into his house and evade all security systems, then Dick would do the same to Tim, and so on. But these days, Tim had become a lot more cunning than he used to be and the systems were much more intense. And well, Dick didn’t really want to try to jump through lasers or risk stepping on a bunch of Lego bricks barefoot—that had been torturous.
Finally, the door swung open to reveal a tired looking Cassandra Sandsmark. Her hair was pulled back in a messy ponytail, hair sticking out every which way.
Dick arched an eyebrow.
“Does Bruce know you’re in Gotham?” he asked.
Cassie gave him a look. “He looks the other way unless he’s in the mood to deal with Tim,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest. “Besides, Grayson, I happen to live here.”
That had Dick’s eyebrows arching up. “I didn’t realize you guys had gotten so serious.”
The blond’s annoyed look turned into a small, happy smile. “Yeah, it happened right before we went on our last mission. Tim’s house is our new home base. Bart and Kon still help protect their cities, but we all stay here at the end of the day. Makes life a lot easier,” she said. She looked Dick up and down, her face turning wary. “Are you here to see Tim?”
“Yeah, is he in? I called the office, but they said he’s been working from home the last few months,” he said, craning his head to look past the Amazonian.
She chewed on her bottom lip for a moment. “He’s uh, he’s not really in a good spot right now. I don’t know if he’d want you to see him.”
“Well, that’s even more reason for me to see him,” Dick said, finally shouldering past her. “I’m his big brother. I may not be one of his romantic partners, but I do still know how to take care of him.”
“Honestly," a new voice said, "he might do a better job of it than we have.” It was Conner, shaking out wet hair, a towel draped over his shoulders. “Because I’m about to kill him.”
Dick’s brow furrowed. “What’s going on?”
Conner cut his gaze from Dick to look over at the kitchen. Tim sat hunched over a table, tinkering with some weapon. He had yet to look up and acknowledge anyone.
“Hey Tim,” Conner said, his voice flat, barely raised above normal volume. “Babe! Your brother’s here!” he said a little louder.
“Babe! I’m going to drink the last zesti if you don’t look up!” Cassie shouted even louder.
Tim still didn’t look their way.
“What’s wrong with him?” Dick asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
“He’s deaf,” Bart said, walking into the room. He tapped Tim’s shoulder and Tim’s head shot up, wide-eyed.
“Our mission was a success,” Cassie said quietly, her arms crossed over her shoulders, “but it didn’t come without its problems. Tim was too close to a bomb that went off and according to Google, it’s profound hearing loss.”
“Google? He hasn’t gone to a doctor?” Dick bit out as Bart pointed towards the three and Tim looked over at them and scowled.
“I thought I said to not let my family in,” Tim said as he got up and walked towards the three. He looked Dick up and down. “How much do you know?”
Dick held up his hands to start signing and Tim’s scowl seemed to deepen.
“That you apparently have profound hearing loss according to Google and haven’t gone to a doctor,” he said while signing the words slowly, making exagerated words with his mouth. Tim’s eyes never seemed to leave his mouth, though.
“He’s not going to read sign, he’s refusing,” Conner said with a tired sigh.
“What happened?” Dick asked, still looking at his little brother.
“Bomb,” Tim said. “I’m fine. I’m adapting.”
“You can’t hear shit, Tim,” Dick argued.
“I’m figuring it out,” Tim said through gritted teeth. He sent a glare over to Conner, his eyes absolutely filled with rage. “I’ve already told these three that I’m figuring it out. It’s just taking time, I’m not a doctor.”
Dick reached forward and grabbed Tim’s chin, pulling his face to him. “No, you aren’t. You need to get checked out by a doctor, don’t you think?”
“No,” Tim said, his lips curling over his teeth. He turned on his heel, jerking out of Dick’s grip and walked back towards the table. “If I go to the doctor, everyone will find out that Tim Drake has lost his hearing. Don’t tell me to go to Leslie, either; she’s a clinic doctor, she can do a hearing test but I’ve already done that. I can’t hear anything up to one hundred decibels.”
One hundred decibels. Dick frowned to himself as he tried to think what that level was.
“Think like listening to music in your headphones at top volume, or like,” Bart frowned and tilted his head. “Like a lawnmower is right next to your ear or a helicopter.”
“So most things,” Dick said flatly.
Tim refused to look his way, instead focusing back on whatever he was working on.
“He’s depressed, he won’t leave the house, he won’t stop focusing on his little gadgets that he’s determined are going to help his hearing. But he also won’t go to the doctor because he doesn’t want anyone to find out,” Cassie explained, running her fingers through her short blond hair. “We’ve tried everything.”
“Does Bruce know?” Dick asked, still staring at his brother, his shoulders now hunched up to his ears, his jaw tense. Like he knew they were talking about him but was pointedly ignoring all of it.
“No. Tim doesn’t want any of you to know. He thinks Bruce is going to insist that he needs to quit being Red Robin if he finds out,” Conner said, walking over to Tim and running his fingers through the man’s hair slowly.
Dick watched as Tim’s shoulders slowly started to slump.
“How long?” Dick asked, walking towards the table. He took a seat in front of Tim and rapped his knuckles on the table, knowing that Tim could feel the vibration.
Tim looked up at Dick and arched an eyebrow until Dick repeated the question.
“Three months,” Tim said flatly.
Dick let out a groan and ran his fingers through his hair. “You’ve had profound hearing loss for three months and haven’t seen a doctor?” He asked.
Tim blinked at him. “I can’t read your lips if you’re looking down, Richard. But based on your reaction, you’re mad that I haven’t gone to the doctor and you have no reason to be. I’m fine, I’m figuring it out and I just need to make some hearing aids to help with the hearing issue.”
Dick looked at Tim’s partners.
“You’ve let this go on for three months?” he asked.
“Do you want to try? We’re more scared of Tim than Bruce and we’re trying to respect his boundaries and also get him to get help,” Bart bit out. “Do you have any idea how difficult that is? It’s Tim.”
“Yes, I am aware,” Dick said, pinching the bridge of his nose.
If Tim didn’t want to do something, he wasn’t going to. It was one of his brother’s more frustrating characteristics. Somehow, he was even more stubborn than Bruce, something Dick hadn’t even realized was possible. He could absolutely see how he was a formidable match against his three super powered significant others.
“Tim, you have to tell Bruce,” Dick said, only Tim wasn’t looking at him.
In fact, he was pointedly looking down at his little invention. Right now, it just looked like a conglomeration of wires and metal. Dick wasn’t sure how the hell that was supposed to help his little brother with his hearing but he wasn’t going to push it. Tim was much more of a tech guy than Dick ever was.
“Conner, please tell my brother that if I don’t look at him, I can’t understand what he’s saying. You know, because I’m deaf,” Tim said blandly and Dick wanted to bang his head against the table when Conner opened his mouth.
“Conner, I’m not deaf, I know what he said,” Dick interrupted and Conner scowled.
“I was going to say—see this is what we’re talking about,” Conner gritted out. “He’s being purposefully obstinate.”
“If you want to try to get him to get help, by all means go for it,” Cassie said with a sigh. “I gotta get to class,” she told them before she leaned down, gave Tim a soft kiss and then kissed her two other partners. She waved goodbye to Dick and left quickly.
Dick laced his fingers together and pursed his lips. “Conner, Bart, can I kidnap Tim without either of you coming after us?” he asked.
“By all means,” Bart said, motioning to Tim. “Maybe you can knock some sense into him.”
Dick gave them a lethal grin and, in a skilled motion he had done for the majority of his life, grabbed Tim by surprise, grabbing his wrists in one hand and hauling him over his shoulder with ease.
Tim may be an adept fighter, but his lack of hearing made for weaker defenses and, until he managed to resolve that issue, he would never have the upper hand. Just another reason for him to quit tinkering and actually start working on his hearing issue.
“Dick!” Tim screeched, trying to wrench his hands from Dick’s grip, his feet kicked into Dick’s back, hard. “Let me go, you asshole! Conner! Bart!”
The two men ignored him as Dick started out of the theater and down to his car.
There was no use in telling Tim his thoughts, not when Tim was screeching like a little rat and throwing a fit—besides, it wouldn’t do him any good. Tim couldn’t hear him anyway.
Dick threw him in his passenger seat and, before Tim could put up more of a fight, belted him into the seat. He went around to the driver’s side and listened to Tim yell at him as he started the drive to Bludhaven.
“I can’t believe this! You’re just going to kidnap me? What the hell is wrong with you?” he shouted, his voice unbelievably high-pitched, making Dick wince just a bit.
He hadn’t even realized someone’s voice could go to that octave. At this point, Dick wondered if it was at a high enough decibel that Tim could even hear himself. He doubted it, not if a hundred was where he started hearing things.
Dick waved his hand dismissively at Tim as he turned down a road and tried his best to ignore his still-shouting brother. It’s not like he could argue back, not when he needed both hands on the wheel.
Dick smirked to himself. If only Timothy had gone to the doctor to see how bad his hearing was and maybe even gotten hearing aids, then none of this would have happened.
“Why are we going to Bludhaven? You know they’re not just going to let you kidnap me, right? Cassie will come for me,” Tim said.
Dick spared a glance at his little brother. “Shush, enjoy the ride,” he said, enunciating his words more than needed just to piss his brother off.
Judging by the punch he received in the arm, he succeeded.
“You’re an asshole,” Tim grumbled before he slumped down in his seat and crossed his arms over his chest.
Dick simply smiled to himself and turned his music up, nodding his head to some cheesy pop song.
“I hate this song,” Tim muttered, reaching to turn down the volume only for Dick to slap his hand away. He merged onto the highway and signed to his brother single handedly.
you can’t hear it, so no complaining.
“I don’t need to hear it to know that I hate Carly Rae Jepson,” Tim retorted, giving a pointed look at the radio where the name of the song was proudly displayed.
whatever, Dick signed in response before putting his hand on the wheel once more.
Tim let out a dramatic huff and looked out the window, his arms crossed over his chest in a pout.
Dick rolled his eyes. Twenty year-olds were so dramatic for literally no reason.
Eventually, Dick pulled in front of his apartment building and turned to look at his little brother.
“What’s going on with you?” Dick asked, looking his brother over. “This isn’t like you and you know it.”
“I’m fine, Dick. I’m just trying to cope with this shit,” Tim said with a huff.
Dick narrowed his eyes. “Tim, you’re depressed,” he said plainly. “I’m your big brother, I know the signs pretty well by this point. Your nails are bitten to the quick, the skin under your eyes is bruised and your lip is raw from you chewing on it. So, why don’t you try a little harder to convince me that you’re fine.”
Tim closed his eyes and let out a slow, steadying breath. “I lost my hearing, Dick. I’m allowed to cope however I want.”
Dick gave his little brother a sad smile before he reached over and tapped his cheek lightly. Tim opened his eyes, red and just a bit watery and Dick blew a strand of hair out of his face.
“How about you let me help, then?” he asked gently.
“I don’t want it,” Tim said carefully. “Not right now, maybe not ever.”
Dick let out a soft hum. “Fine. But I need your help, and you can’t help me if you’re too focused on ignoring your hearing problem.”
Tim blinked at him, confused. “You need my help? With what?” he asked, his head tilted to the side as he looked at Dick inquisitively.
Dick couldn’t help but grin; hook, line, and sinker.
He would get Tim invested in solving the murder case and use that forced proximity that came with joint case solving to convince his brother to get help and go to the doctor. It was the perfect plan, one that he just knew was foolproof.
Tim liked to act like he was this tough kid who couldn’t be manipulated but Dick was a big brother. More to the point, he was Tim’s big brother and no matter the distance or how long they went without talking, Dick knew his little brother like the back of his hand. Even if Tim would like to argue otherwise.
“Let’s go inside,” Dick said instead, nodding his head towards his apartment complex. He gave Tim a small smile before he lifted his hands and signed don’t want anyone to hear.
Tim gave him a sour look at that. “Har har,” he mocked before he climbed out of the car and stomped towards the sidewalk that led to Dick’s apartment complex.
Dick snickered in his hand.
Was he horrified that his little brother was profoundly deaf? Absolutely, but he couldn’t focus on that yet. Not until he was able to get a good idea of how Tim was doing. Once he got a good idea of how Tim was doing and got an in to help his little brother, he would have his freak out in his room—alone.
Dick didn’t need Tim to see him have a mental breakdown over the fact that his sweet, stubborn, dumbass of a brother lost his hearing and was now going through a depressive episode so bad that all three of his partners were worried about him.
Dick watched his brother as they walked into the apartment and locked the door behind him.
“No traps, how boring,” Tim said with a sigh as he walked over to the couch and fell onto the bright blue cushions, kicking his feet up on the coffee table in front of him.
Dick snorted and sat caddy-corner from him.
“Now, tell me what you need help with,” Tim said, resting his arms back on the back of the couch. He was staring intently at Dick’s mouth, his own lips now pursed in interest.
Dick let out a breath and started talking. He explained all of the murders so far, the vague connections he had managed to find between the murders, and how he had absolutely no leads whatsoever and didn’t know where to begin to look.
“That’s odd,” Tim remarked, nodding his head as he kicked his feet off the coffee table and gave Dick a bright grin. “Good thing you came to me. I’m obviously the smarter of the two of us and can figure this out for you.”
“Oh yeah, so smart that you lost your hearing and refused to go to the doctor to get your ears looked at,” Dick said sarcastically, knowing that Tim would get the tone from his face even if he couldn’t hear it.
Tim scowled. “Listen. I will help you solve this case on one condition,” he said and Dick wanted to groan.
His stomach sank as he realized that he knew exactly what that condition would be.
“What?” he asked anyway, just wanting to get it over with. If it was what he was thinking it would be, it was fine. He would just have to pivot on the plans he already had formulating in the back of his mind on how he could help Tim.
“Don’t tell Bruce or anyone else in our family. I’ll tell them when I’m ready,” Tim said, his eyes narrowed.
“What if you never tell them?”
“Then that just means I’m never ready and you’re not going to take that from me,” Tim said carefully, his eyes now narrowed into thin slits. “You aren’t taking that choice from me, are you, Richard? You, of all people, who saw the fallout from the last time my choices were taken from me?”
Dick winced at that.
Tim had been publicly outed by a magazine that had somehow managed to find out that Tim was in a polyamorous relationship with three other people.
The fallout had been horrific. He had only been nineteen at the time and was having to hold back his three super powered partners from wanting to fight the world while also dealing with the PR nightmare that popped up because of it.
For an entire three months, Tim Drake had turned into the living version of Janet Drake, also known as the Fire Breathing Bitch when she had been alive. He had destroyed the magazine company that had published the article, had made the poor woman who wrote the article lose her job and the ability to ever work in the field again, and had made anyone who so much as made a negative comment rue the day they ever met Tim Drake.
He was a force to be reckoned with, one that even Bruce tried to avoid during that time for fear of being the next unknowing victim of his angry son.
Dick shuddered at the memory of watching Tim verbally decimate a reporter who had called him a whore at a press conference. Last he heard, the reporter had actually checked himself into a mental hospital after the experience because Tim had eviscerated him so badly.
Dick knew one thing for sure. He did not want to get on his little brother’s bad side. And therefore, he needed to navigate Tim’s hearing loss with the precision that only a wise older brother had.
“Of course, I would never do that to you, Tim,” Dick said carefully. “I won’t say a word to them until you do.”
“Thank you,” Tim said brightly. “Now, take me back to Gotham. I need to pack my bag and tell Cassie, Kon, and Bart that I’m going to be staying in Bludhaven for the next few weeks. I also need to go through the Nest and see what all I should bring with me.”
The older vigilante blinked. “What?”
“Well, I can’t help you solve the case if I’m living in Gotham, I can’t exactly talk to you on the phone unless we’re facetiming, and I can’t read lips through a screen as well as I can in person. Not only that, but like, I don’t want to drive the forty-five minutes back and forth every day. I mostly work remotely these days anyway, so I’ll just stay in your guest room and we’ll do patrols together.”
“Tim, you can’t possibly think I’m going to let you patrol with me when you can’t—”
Tim leveled him with a glare. “I can do whatever I want and you aren’t going to stop me. I can handle myself.”
Dick glared right back at his brother. He couldn’t let Tim go out on patrols with him when he couldn’t hear shit. How the hell were they supposed to communicate through coms?
“We’ll talk about patrols later. For now, have one of your partners take you home and I’ll pick you up tomorrow.”
Tim scowled. “Fine. Conner, come pick me up,” he called out.
Dick let out a huff and fell back into the couch cushions as they waited in silence for Conner to show up. He wasn’t entirely sure what to say to his brother. He hadn’t seen him in quite a while and with how much Tim was going through, Dick wasn’t going to burden him by telling him about his own problems.
“So, what do you hear?” Dick finally asked.
“Nothing,” Tim replied shortly. “I can hear car radios at max volume and it sounds like I’m listening through a pillow. But like you talking? Nothing. Every so often, I can hear some muffled noises but not enough to discern what you’re saying. I can vaguely register a car horn if it’s honked like right in front of me, and I can hear a jackhammer. But like, every day noises? Nothing.”
“But what do you hear?” Dick pushed.
Tim pursed his lips.
“Sounds like when you put a shell to your ear and listen to the ocean,” he finally said. “All the time. It’s actually kinda annoying if I’m being super honest with you. Then there’s the random bouts of tinnitus that hit, too, where all I hear is ringing in my ears. Kon said it’s because the hairs in my cochlea are damaged or something from the explosion. It’s annoying as hell, though. Makes my teeth hurt,” Tim said, clacking his teeth together just as a knock sounded on the door.
“Come in,” Dick said in response to the knock, looking at Tim who gave him a curious look before his eyebrows raised just a bit.
“Oh, Kon’s here?” he asked just as the door opened and he glanced over at the Kryptonian now walking through the door.
Tim got that dopey love struck expression on his face that seemed to always appear when he saw one of his partners and stood up.
“Hey, handsome,” he purred and Dick couldn’t help but roll his eyes as he stood up and stretched.
Conner gave Tim an amused look. “Hey yourself. Did you guys have a nice talk?” he asked, furrowing his brow just a bit.
Tim let out a hum and gave Conner a quick kiss, not hearing the obnoxious cough coming from Dick who gave Conner a pointed glare.
“We did,” Tim said before he turned to Dick. “Come pick me up tomorrow at five. I should have everything packed by then. For now, send over to me all that you have already and I’ll start looking over it.”
“You got it, Boss,” Dick said with a cheery smile before he watched the two leave his apartment.
Once they were gone, Dick fell back onto his couch, his smile dropping as he let out a loud sigh.
What the fuck?
Dick ran his fingers through his hair and tried his best to steady his breathing. Now that Tim was gone, he could fully freak out over everything.
An explosion.
Another goddamn explosion. Only this time, his brother wasn’t dead, just deaf. Yet Dick’s heart still panged; it must have been close. Far too close for comfort if it caused Tim to lose his hearing to such a degree. He massaged the bridge of his nose, focusing on his racing heart and breathing.
Tim was alive.
Tim was alive and he was relatively okay. Yes, his ears were fucked but he was alive and he had all of his body parts intact—sans a spleen— and he was okay. He was here and he was breathing, and Dick wasn’t burying another brother. He would never have to bury another brother.
A lump seemed to swell in his throat as he tried to concentrate on the here and now, to concentrate on the fact that Tim was alive.
That was what mattered; Tim hadn’t died, no matter how close of a call it was, no matter how weird Tim was being about the entire thing. He was alive. Bart, Cassie, Conner—they were taking care of his brother. Tim was strong and capable, yes, but he had trouble taking care of himself sometimes—as was clear with the fact that for some unknowable reason he was vehemently avoiding going to the doctor to get his ears checked out.
But Dick would work with the three heroes to try to convince Tim to change his mind. Maybe he would even successfully convince Tim to go to therapy this time around. Then again, last time that Dick had tried that, Tim had fucked off to go on a worldwide adventure, lost his spleen, got kicked off the top of Wayne Enterprises, and made a lifetime enemy out of Ra’s Al Ghul. So maybe trying to convince Tim to go to therapy was a bad idea.
The kid has only managed to somehow get more feral the older he got.
At just twenty years old, Tim was giving Dick more heart attacks than the rest of their siblings combined. Thank God Damian had decided to retire the cape and focus on school so that he could eventually go to college to be a doctor. At least Dick didn’t have to constantly stress about him.
Dick closed his eyes and pulled his phone out of his pocket and let out another breath before he opened his eyes and pulled up Jason’s contact.
“What do you want?” The twenty-three year-old grumbled after two rings. “I’m kinda busy.”
“Just wanted to check in,” Dick said quietly. “I haven’t heard from you in a few days and—”
“Something’s wrong,” Jason said immediately, his tone shifting ever so slightly. “Big Bird, are you alright?”
Dick swallowed around the lump in his throat. “Just a panic attack. Just—Just needed to make sure you’re okay. That’s it.”
Jason let out a soft huff of a laugh. “I’m alright. Just feeding Harriet,” he said and Dick snorted.
“Harriet?” he asked, arching an eyebrow.
“My sourdough starter,” Jason said as if that explained everything. “Duke told me that you and Babs—”
Dick closed his eyes. “I don’t want to talk about it right now. I just wanted to call and make sure you’re okay.”
“I’m alright,” his littler brother said, his voice going soft. “Do you want to talk about what triggered the panic attack?”
The older vigilante smiled.
Jason had mellowed out in the last few years. Dick wasn’t totally sure what had happened, but in the last three years, something in Jason had changed; he had started to grow up a little, calm down, and mend his relationships with their family.
Hell, he and Bruce were even on speaking terms now.
“Tim got in an accident on his last mission. He’s fine now,” Dick lied. “But it just—”
“Made you need to do a check-in with all of your siblings?” Jason asked sardonically.
Dick croaked out a laugh, his shoulders slumping just a little bit. “Yeah, something like that,” he murmured. “Sorry I’m bothering you and your alone time with Harriet.”
“Don’t be, she’s fine. I just added more to her and hopefully she’ll be ready for me to use soon to make sourdough, Bingley needs a friend.”
“Harriet and Bingley?” Dick asked, coughing out a laugh.
“Yes,” Jason said shortly. “Now, are those three idiots so useless they can’t take care of our idiot?”
“I said he was okay, so they obviously are taking care of him,” Dick argued, feeling himself finally start to relax.
He liked the newer, calmer Jason. He was easy to talk to and had somehow managed to become one of Dick’s best friends in the last year or so.
“Yeah, but the accident was still enough to cause you to panic so much that you needed to do a sibling rollcall. So, what happened?”
“They were on some space mission and there was an explosion,” Dick said carefully.
Jason went quiet for a moment.
“I see,” he said carefully. “Well, Dickie Bird, you have nothing to worry about. Timberlina is fine, like you said. I’m alive, I’m okay. I’m about to start baking some cinnamon sugar sourdough bread because Kori’s been naggin’ at me for the last week. No explosions are gonna take us out, we’re Robins.”
Dick let out a tight laugh. “Right, Robins.”
“Hey,” Jason said, his voice a little gruffer. “I’m serious. Calm down, Dick. Tim’s fine, he’s alive and he’s safe, I’m alive and safe and so are Duke, Cass, and Damian. So are you. There are no more dead Robins—hell, there’s no more Robins period. We’re all okay.”
“We’re all okay,” Dick repeated quietly, nodding his head. He closed his eyes tightly, his fist clenching beside him, his nails biting into the palm of his hand. “We’re all okay.”
“Exactly. Now, go take a hot bath and drink some chocolate milk,” Jason said in a teasing voice. “And quit being such a damn worrywart. It’s Tim, he gets nearly blown up on a weekly basis. He’s like—the most reckless out of all of us.”
“Not helping, Jason,” Dick bit out.
“Tell me I’m wrong. That kid has no self-preservation instincts, that’s why he’s got so many damn superpowered partners—it takes three of them just to keep him in line.”
Dick snorted.
He wasn’t wrong there. Conner, Cassie, and Bart deserved sainthood for how much shit Tim put them through. The kid was too damn smart for his own good, which somehow resulted in a type of recklessness that made Dick have heart palpitations.
“Now, go do some self-care and maybe if you do, I’ll bring you some bread from Harriet,” Jason said before he hung up without so much as a goodbye.
Which was normal for Jason, the moment things got just a little too lovey-dovey, he had to dip. One time, Duke made the joke that every time Jason got a little too emotional, he had to go punch or shoot something to feel manly again. Dick wouldn’t be surprised if that was true in all honesty.
