batmanschmatman | 029 [audio]

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029 [audio]

[There's a short pause between the feed clicking on and Dick speaking.]

My parents were murdered when I was eight. I was there when it happened. It was... [He takes a slow breath.] It felt like my whole life was just falling apart and I had no idea what was going to happen or where I was supposed to go or how I was supposed to live without the two most important people in my life.

But I got lucky, because someone was there that night who knew what it was like to have their parents taken away from them. He took me in, gave me a home and support and made life feel like it was worth living again. I know I got lucky. A lot of kids... A lot of kids lose parents and just end up going through foster home after foster home, and if Bruce hadn't been there, that's probably what would have happened to me. I would have been alone and lost, with no idea what I was supposed to do with my life.

Instead, I got a family. They've helped me become the person I am today and I can't thank them enough for it. I've had an amazing life, even if it's not always sunshine and rainbows, and I love my family more then anything.

... I'll always miss my parents. That hurt never goes away, and there isn't a day that goes by where I don't think about them and wish I could talk to them just one more time, but I...

[...]

I wouldn't trade what I have now for the world.

[... Oh crap. Didn't mean to say any of that out loud, to everyone. Fuck you, floods. :|]

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[ His handwriting is shaky. A little smudged. ]

Edited 2011-03-13 06:59 (UTC)

[Dick can tell what that handwriting means - it's not like they ever needed a lot of communication to understand what the other's trying to say anyway - and after about two seconds of hesitation is up and heading for Bruce's cabin, injuries be damned. He almost hesitates before knocking on the door, but doesn't, sort of not really sure what to expect, but knowing he needs to see him right now.]

[ Bruce is hunched over his desk, fingers pressed against the corners of his eyes to stop the tears. But his control is frayed and torn, ripped apart from just a few words from Dick (and the Bat says: cut off that thread, he might use it against you- but he ignores it, shoves that part of him away because his son is more important than that-)

At the knock, he stands up, moving over to the door. He's not thinking- he doesn't want to think- and he's pulling Dick into the room and slamming the door shut before even saying a word. ]

[Dick doesn't protest and lets Bruce drag him into the room, even as the gesture aggravates his ribs a little. He doesn't mind.

But as soon as he's in the room and really gets a look at Bruce, he realizes something's wrong and immediately his brow furrows in concern, wondering if something happened, if maybe something he'd said had upset him. He almost can't process the fact that it looks like he's crying or has been crying but once it registers, it's almost like the floor's being ripped out from underneath him.]

Bruce, are you okay?

[ He probably should've been more careful than that- but at this point he's just not thinking.

At the question, he looks at Dick- just, for a moment, looking at him and thinking about what he's said. To see the man that Dick has grown up into- the man that Bruce is proud of and knows to be incredibly capable- a man who is a better hero and leader than Bruce himself has ever been.

And he lets himself think: I didn't fail you.

His arms go around Dick's shoulders, a hand cradling the back of his eldest son's head, and he just- holds him that. Buries his face in Dick's hair for a moment.

A long, steady breath. ]

I'm okay.

[In the moment between his question and Bruce's response, Dick just stood, frozen, not sure what to do or say or think. He'd meant what he'd said, even if he hadn't meant for it to be public, or even for anyone to hear him say it ever, especially not Bruce because it just wasn't something they talked about.

But any fears or doubts he had about his reaction were pushed aside with the hug, the second in so short a time initiated by Bruce and not him, but still, it just feels right, given the circumstances. He doesn't share Tim's doubts or worries about that.

So he just lets out a sort of choked laugh which might have actually been a small part sob and almost immediately relaxes into the hug, just as easily as he'd done when he was a terrified little kid, putting his arms around Bruce and pressing his face against his shoulder, grinning even if his dad can't see it.]

Good. I'm glad you're okay.

[ But Bruce can feel it, the upward curve of his smile against his skin. And it makes him hold Dick closer, a little tighter, still conscious of his injuries but just holding onto him- reminding himself that this isn't a dream. That this isn't something that will go away the moment he wakes up.

If the Barge is an illusion - and he still thinks it can be, because he never cancels out possibilities unless he has evidence - then it's an illusion he wants to believe in. If only for this. If only for the fact that Dick and Jason and Tim are all safe in one way or another- and that he hasn't failed Dick.

That despite all that he has done and not done- it's fine. He doesn't need to blame himself for being unable to save Dick's parents that day; he doesn't need to worry so much about being an inadequate replacement and causing Dick too much pain- well he does, still. He always will.

But he knows now that at least with his oldest, he has done- well.

He doesn't speak. Words are useless in times like this. Bruce knows the words for 'I love you' in more than fifteen languages but he can't say any of them. ]

[Bruce didn't have to say anything. The gesture and the fact that he hasn't pulled away or tried to make this all business and told him he should have figured out a way to avoid the flood or delete the post or something is more than enough. Considering the fact that he was, honestly, sort of scared of Bruce's reaction to the post - since he definitely thought if given the choice, Bruce would probably change things, rather then keep life the way it was - this was incredibly reassuring.

And honestly, this was all he really wanted. He might have only been gone for four months, but between stuff on the Barge and finding out about the future and worrying he'd go home only to go through losing Bruce for real and not knowing he'd be safe at some point, he'd missed Bruce like hell. He'd been sort of jealous that Tim had gotten to go home and say hi and make sure everything was okay, but now Bruce was here and he didn't have to struggle with the decision to stay here or go home and risk not coming back just to make sure everything was okay.

So he didn't pull away and wouldn't until Bruce did, appreciating the contact and the fact that Bruce was here. Even if it had happened because of a flood and he hadn't actually wanted to announce any of this, it felt good to know he was loved.]

[ After a moment, Bruce steps back- his hands linger slightly on Dick's shoulders, but eventually he cuts off the contact. Turning his head away, he swipes at his eyes quickly and subtly, trying to not let Dick notice that he has actually been crying due to the post. He'd shown himself to be far too open and vulnerable already, and all of his instincts are screaming at him.

He takes a long, low breath, looking at Dick again and- he doesn't know what to say. He has never been good with words because he runs endless rehearsals of them over and over in his own head, and every single time he finds the choices wanting, so he ends up saying nothing at all. He'd rather show through his actions, but then again- they can be so easily misunderstood without words.

He swallows. Clears his throat a little and tries to not appear entirely embarrassed. ]

I- [ Pause. He resists the urge to rub his face. ] I meant what I- wrote.

[ And that's all Dick is getting from him, damnit. ]

[Seeing Bruce like this is... weird. He's rarely this vulnerable, and the fact that Dick was apparently able to get him to this point with an accidental network post is kind of scary. But also? Kind of reassuring. Bruce was so wrapped up in Batman that sometimes Dick wondered if Bruce really knew or remembered how to just be himself, not the vigilante or the socialite. Moments like this were few and far between back home.

So, he smiles at the halting sentence, understanding what Bruce means and how hard it was for him to do any of this, and appreciating that he had.]

I know.

[He put his good hand on Bruce's shoulder for a moment.]

And I meant what I said.

[He squeezes his shoulder once before dropping his hand to his side, ignoring the slight ache in his shoulder and side because honestly, at this point? Not much can get him down.]

[ Death does funny things. Death after being forcefed his failures and all that he's unable to do- it wreaks havoc on his psyche. It's difficult to believe that he's able to carry on alone when he has spent months alone, violated and tortured and clawing at some sort of hope to cling onto, holding onto his sanity by the sheer force of will. Keeping himself together because he refuse to give Desaad the satisfaction of seeing him break.

He hasn't given Hurt the satisfaction either. But he comes close. Very close.

Sometimes he thinks that he has forgotten how to be Bruce. Not even with Jet he has been Bruce- he carries Batman like a safety blanket around her, because though he fell for her he has never trusted her. He has always known she's an agent of the lck Glove, especially- especially when she tries to make him believe he's not entirely sane.

He has always known that. But he has enough sanity to function- and that should be enough.

But not here. Not with Dick. Not with Tim. Not with Jason. He has to try harder. Become better- because if he is to rehabilitate someone, he has to make sure that he's not a prime candidate for Arkham first.

He notices the slightly stiff way that Dick is moving, and his head jerks up- but he doesn't touch Dick again. ]

Your injuries.

How are they?

[He's happy to move on, considering everything that had needed to be said - or implied, really - had been said, and even with the less then exciting change in subject, he still maintains a smile. Bruce is here, and alive, and again, that was more then enough.

Figuring the jig is pretty up at this point - and he probably should actually be wearing the sling since his shoulder's feeling pretty sore right about now - he goes for honesty, and shifts to cross his arms, mostly to support his left arm and take some of the strain off of it, not bothering to hide the slight wince of discomfort.]

Sore. But getting better.

[It's not just him trying to avoid being fussed over, but also trying to reassure Bruce that he's fine, since he knows he worries even if he's good at masking it with being a little gruff sometimes.]

[ Worrying means that he cares, doesn't it? And he's too used to hiding that sort of thing - it reveals his vulnerabilities, after all - that even with people he trusts, it's hard to drop the shields. To reveal his feelings- reveal what he lets himself feel and admits to himself, anyway.

It's probably healing well, but Bruce knows that Dick is like him when it comes to injuries - prone to ignoring them, overstraining himself and not following instructions. It would be amusing if Dick isn't younger and has a longer potential lifespan. Ignoring injuries like that will cause adverse effects later on.

(Sometimes he makes excuses for caring. It makes him feel safer, somehow.) ]

Turn around.

[While Dick has, admittedly, been taking it easier then he would have been if he was at home, and therefore his arm was probably healing better then it would have if they were at home, he's still been pretty irresponsible in terms of not keeping it mostly immobilized, and in general has been pushing himself harder then he probably should be.

And despite being an adult and being an accomplished person in his own right, Dick was still very much the obedient son and so although the request got a sort of confused look from him, he follows the direction and turns around, still supporting his left elbow with his right hand.]

[ It's probably exceeding his touch quota for an entire month, but Bruce reaches up and places his hands on Dick's hurt shoulder. His fingers seek out the knots in the muscles immediately, stroking along the lines, forcing the knots to relax and sending more blood to the bone. He has learnt this in Thailand - something like a quick tissue massage to increase blood circulation and facilitate healing. It probably hurts like hell while he's doing it.

... Belatedly, he remembers that he should've asked for permission to do this. Or at least warn Dick.

Too late now. ]

[The pain caught him off guard and he couldn't hold back a surprised shout.]

Ow! Bruce, what are you -

[But before he finishes the question, he realizes what he's doing and tries to stay still and relax, even if it hurts like hell. Still, he manages to keep quiet, gritting his teeth and trying to think about something other then the pain.

He really shouldn't have messed around with Slade.]

[ Since Dick has his back turned towards him, Bruce lets himself smirk just a little bit at the sound. He's not particular concerned that he's causing pain - not this time, because he knows that it's doing good, relaxing the muscles so that Dick can heal better.

And he wonders if his oldest will actually tell him what caused the injury in the first place.

After a few more minutes more, Dick's shoulder stops feeling like a piece of rock and more like flesh again, and he releases him, letting his hands drop back to his side. ]

[He turned back around, rotating his shoulder slowly, testing the injury and wincing slightly, trying to get used to the feeling. It still ached, but now that the muscles weren't cramped and knotted, it was sort of less painful to move it around. He gave him a grateful smile.] Thanks.

[He really didn't want to own up to his mistake, since jumping Slade and approaching him in the first place had been possibly one of the stupidest things he'd done in his recent history. He'd already been yelled at by Tim, he'd sort of discussed it with Costigan, and he didn't need Bruce being disappointed in him for letting his emotions and Slade get to him.]

I'm really okay.

[ So it looks like Dick doesn't want to tell him after all. Which might mean that it's potentially important but humiliating- or it's potentially unimportant but still humiliating. His children all have a very strong sense of pride, and Dick isn't excluded from that. Bruce isn't entirely surprised by the response.

It means that he has to conduct his own investigations. He figures by now that Tim knows, but his youngest will not betray his oldest confidence, not even for Batman. So he just has to find out some other way, really.

Cocking an eyebrow at Dick, he smirks a little. Draws a little of the mantle of the Bat around himself. Not too much to close himself off, but enough to hide the vulnerabilities that he has been flagrantly displaying. ]

I'll take your word on that.

[Cue the youngest (because he will never count Damian B|) knocking on the door. It took a while, but he's been enticed. Somehow. Well done, Dick.]

If this ends in noogies, I'm never coming here again, [he called from outside.]

[ Bruce has a hard time thinking of Tim as anything but his youngest as well. Most of the time, he doesn't remember Damian. Some of those times, it is deliberate. It's not the boy's fault, but Talia is more than mildly insane - especially recently - and she has conceived the boy without his knowledge or his permission. And her way of saying 'hello' - and Damian's as well - doesn't endear either of them to him.

Not to mention hurting Tim. Biological son or not, Bruce cannot forgive Damian that easily. Besides, he has never wanted biological children- for many good reasons. Two of them are right here.

But he doesn't want to think about this right now. He shakes the thoughts out of his head.

You're just tempting Dick. [ As he said that, he pulls away, walking over the door and pulling it open. His smile when he sees Tim is tiny and crooked- but present. ]

[Dick laughed, not minding the topic change in the slightest. He was still feeling sort of mushy from all this emoting and hugging and whatever, and he really didn't want to think about or end up spilling to Bruce about how he'd hurt himself, so he just grinned widely at his little brother.]

No noogies, I promise.

[He looked juuuust a little surprised when Bruce opened the door, since. Well. He would have expected Bruce to run longer and farther than he had from this mushy stuff. But he was still getting used to the idea of what had changed in his second father.]

What do you think, Bruce, is he trying to lull me into a false sense of security? [There was a matching smile as he closed the door behind him.

[ It's already starting like a prickling on his skin, a discomfort about the situation, a semi-conscious tug for him to get away, to ask them to get out so he can be alone again. But he doesn't heed it, ignoring it the best he can because he honestly doesn't want to be alone.

It's a surprising thought. ]

If he is, you have the permission to try to deck him. [ And he's moving back, closer to the center of the room. Giving himself less options to want to run. ]

[The grin widened at the comment and he gestured for Tim to come over, taking a small step closer to him to give him a hug too. It might have just been a flood, but it had had a real effect on him.]

C'mon Tim, I'm not totally cruel.

029 [audio]

7/7 private; text

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