Chapter Thirty Nine

Steph’s bike wasn’t exactly quiet, pulling into the giant echo chamber of a cave that the Bats used as headquarters, but apparently it wasn’t loud enough to block out the voices of the others that had already arrived.

“-am sure there is a perfectly reasonable explanation forthcoming, Todd.” Damian was saying, and it would have been nice if not for the faint note of sarcasm that Dick knew him well enough to pick up.

Bruce grunted from the Batcomputer, and Tim spoke instead when it was clear Bruce wasn’t going to, “Jason, just calm dow-”

“Fuck that, replacement!” Jason swore harshly and loudly, his voice bouncing off the stone walls as the bike came to a stop besides his own bike and Steph killed the engine with a wince and an apologetic look to Dick. “Did we just see the same shitshow? Fuckin’ Dickhead just-”

The group took notice of Steph climbing the stairs to the main platform, Dick just behind her and somehow appearing less reluctant than she did. In fact, he appeared neutral, almost aggressively so. Almost…bored, but without the implication of disinterest.

“Wanna explain, Dickhead?” Jason snarled in his direction.

Dick blinked, and his mouth opened to reply, only for Bruce- for Batman to cut him off. “Nightwing, status report.”

He paused a moment, to see if anyone else was going to interrupt, then calmly replied, “I left Deadshot with the GCPD on the way. He shouldn’t be an issue for a while. My injuries are minimal from the tunnels, and-”

The only sign that Bruce heard him was a follow-up question, his body and face still towards the large screen of the Batcomputer, “Fear toxin, possession, ivy’s spores?”

Dick raised an eyebrow at his back as he answered, “No? No mental impediments of any kind.”

“Then why did you just let Deathstroke walk away without even trying to capture him?” Bruce turned around, blankly meeting his gaze even as his tone tinged with anger.

There was a moment of silence between them, as Dick considered what to say, and how much he actually cared to answer.

“...Wilson’s tactics are familiar, and I recognised several aspects of his setup in there. I knew there was no path I could take to reach him before he reached the surface, and-”

“What do you mean his tactics are familiar?” Tim interrupted, his brow furrowed and face frowning.

Jason wasn’t nearly as polite. “Who gives a fuck about that- Why the fuck’s golden boy suddenly a bloody sharpshooter? I know the cops sure as fuck didn’t teach him that, with how piss poor their aim is.”

Dick paused, genuinely confused for a moment. He looked from Jason’s angry glaring judgement, to Tim struggling to piece together the puzzle, to Bruce’s silent expectation for answers to all of it, and-

He couldn’t stop the slight twitch of his lips, even if he managed to restrain the majority of the incredulous laughter bubbling inside. They didn’t know. None of them. Not even Bruce. A room full of the greatest detectives and mortal heroes to ever live, and not even one of them paid enough attention to him and his past to work it out. He should have known. But…

Dick shrugged. “I’ve been trained in the past. It’s classified.”

“Spyral then?” Tim’s frustrated but accepting tone asks, only for Bruce’s clipped words to slice that acceptance away.

“All parts of the Spyral incident have been documented.” He states simply, staring at Nightwing.

The others look between the two of them for a moment in confusion, before the unspoken part makes its way through to them. Shockingly, it’s not Jason or Tim to say it, but Cassandra, “You don’t know either.” she says to Bruce, tilting her head at him.

Jason barks out a laugh, bitter and rough, “You’re shitting me? So what is it, Dickhead? You lie to the big bad bat when you came back, or what?”

Dick paused, and genuinely considered whether he wanted to share with them. These people he thought of as family. Jason, who punched and ridiculed him. Tim, who ignored and excluded him. Damien, so young to be forgiven, yet who still left him alone. Steph and Cass, who swore or blanked him out, gave him silent treatment. And Bruce…

“I said it’s classified. Personally classified, not Bat classified. Are we done here?”

There was something cold and empty in Dick at that moment, which really made it difficult to care about how they reacted to his dismissal. Jason and Tim were agape with shock, Steph and Cass were exchanging quick looks of concern or something else, Damien was scowling again to hide his displeasure, and Bruce was just glaring still. But none of it really seemed to matter, to sink in. Why should it? They’d be pissed and hate him no matter what he said, really, and if he had to deal with it no matter what, why should he share? Why rip open that old wound when it wouldn’t make a difference?

He paused another few seconds for a response, and when none came, he nodded, and turned to leave. He spoke as he walked down the steps to the array of vehicles on the lower level, hopping onto one of his older retired bikes there, “I’m going home. Nice to see you all. Tell Alf I said hi.”

There was some kind of noise, one or more of them talking or shouting, that was drowned out in the rev of the engine, then lost as he took off out the tunnel.

—

“Quinn. I swear to god, if you don’t stop singing down the line, I’m going to turn the laptop off and leave you to work alone.”

Harley snorted audibly down the line, and Barbara squeezed the bridge of her nose tightly. “Nah, ya won’t! ‘Sides, ya love it really.”

Barbara raised an eyebrow at the screen on her lap, showing security camera footage that flicked from channel to channel at Oracle’s guidance to track the irksome converted villainess, “No. I really don’t. What makes you think I won’t, hm?”

“Simple!” The blonde chirped as she flipped from one rooftop to another on the screen, in an admittedly impressive display of grace and skill, “Wing asked ya to do it, so ya will, because ya’d rather lose ya legs again than let him down afta’ learning what ya learned.”

…

Barbara sat silently after that for a long time, just staring at the display. Harley didn’t seem to mind, her singing stopped in favour of soft humming as she bounced and twirled her way through the city cleaning up pockets of criminals and ongoing crimes.

The redhead wasn’t sure how long it was before the words slipped her lips in a hoarse whisper, “I didn’t know.”

Harley paused on the rooftop she was on, and looked around for a second, spotting the camera. She moved closer to it, looking at it, “Of course ya didn’t know. You’re Batgirl, ya really think anyone thinks ya would know and do nothin’? Nah.”

Barbara was struck, for a moment, by the absurdity of Harley Quinn giving her advice and comfort right now, but forged ahead anyway, “I should’ve known. I know D- Nightwing. We’re… we were close. The closest, sometimes. I don’t expect to have known everything, but how couldn’t I-”

She choked off for a moment, and Harls spoke in the pause, “Red… there’s no chance he woulda’ told you ‘bout that, not on his choice. Wing’s a lotta things, most of ‘em great, but he’s also horrifically self-sacrificing. Ya know it, I know it, everyone knows it. The problem is that everyone knows it but forgets what it really means. He won’t talk about what’s wrong, because that’s his problem, dontcha’ see? Even if we’d all help him. And too often, when he did try ‘n’ talk, he catches the wrong moment, don’t he? Or he catches someone’s pride, ‘suppose. Yeah, ya mighta fucked up before, sure. I dunno, I wasn’t there. Probably did though, because we’re human, nothin’ more or less. Don’t mean you can’t do it right now, yeah? Jus’ look at me, if ya want proof of that.”
Barbara was silent for a few moments, before eventually softly replying, “I…yeah, I guess you’re right. I need to focus on what I can do, not just what I missed.” The redhead leaned back on the sofa in Dick’s apartment, looking through the screen at Harley with consideration. Then, almost hesitantly, “...I can see why Nightwing…values your opinion so much, Harley.”

The blonde blinked at the camera, then smirked and spun away from it with bouncing blonde curls, “Gee, ya gonna make me blush! Get outta here with that.”

The unlikely pair continued their work for a few more hours before-

“Wing’s inbound. Got an update from Spoiler, says some weird stuff went down tonight. Do you-”

“I’ll tie this up and get back. Ain’t nothing urgent out tonight, and wanna be there when Wing’s back.”