Chapter Twenty Seven

Nightwing sighed very softly as he stopped in the middle of a random alleyway.

Harley bounced a few steps more before stopping when she realised he wasn’t right at her side. She spun on her heel and tilted her head at him. “Somthin’ wrong, Nightie?”

He smiled at her. “Nah, just gotta talk to someone. You head on back, okay? I won’t be long.”

She narrowed her eyes slightly, and he rolled his eyes a little, then nodded imperceptibly. Harls let out a loud scoff, and then said, “‘Kay, but I’m gonna come and drag ya back if ya take more than twenty minutes. No mattah’ who I gots ta’ fight.”

Despite himself, Nightwing grinned at the blonde. It was sweet she’d go against unknown foes for him, in a weird way.

She swayed away from the alley, and Dick’s eyes only drifted to those swaying hips for a moment before moving on, conscious of who was watching and how much they saw.

He waited until the sound of her had long passed from earshot, and then a couple of seconds more, before saying at a normal volume, “Alright. Come out now, I know you’re there.”

A second passed. An almost silent thump fell from above into a shadowed spot, then a figure emerged from the shadows. Black Bat, with an unrepentant curiosity narrowing the lenses of her mask, and a slightly guilty cast to her facial expression.

She was good, he had to admit. He’d been suspecting that she had occasionally watched him on patrol, but this was the first time it was him and Harley, as far as he knew. Cass was absolutely better at stealth in general than Dick, though he’d picked up a few new tricks at Spyral. He didn’t like sharing those though. Didn’t like even using them.

Nightwing raised an eyebrow at her and neutrally asked, “What is it you’re looking for, Black Bat?”

She frowned, clear and obvious to him. That hadn’t changed, at least.

Nor had the stilted speech she struggled with even now, a result of her shitty parents rearing her without verbal language. It was especially hesitant today though, and he wasn’t quite sure why.

“You. Something… Worry me.”

Dick had taken the hint from his family that they didn’t want him around. He’d accepted that the big brother wasn’t welcome back into their lives. He made his peace with the fact that they all hated him, and would never forgive him for something he didn’t even do. He’d moved into his new place on the outskirts of the family, only called when there were no other choices.

It was a rejection of everything Dick was, every part of how his mind and heart worked, to accept his new reality. He almost hadn’t, one of the days in the third month. But he’d gotten past that, and he’d allowed this new reality to slip around him because of one simple thing.

He loved them.

Dick loved his family more than he had ever, or could ever, love himself. So if they didn’t want him around, he left. If they needed to scream or swear at him, he took it. If they wanted to hit him and hurt him, he dropped his guard to let them. If they were going to be shot, he’d take the bullet- or dart, in the case of Hatter’s incident- and then he’d smile and limp home alone so his pain wouldn’t bother them.

Because, at the end of the day? He would always consider himself their big brother. Even if they hated him, or wished he’d stayed dead. All they needed to do was ask, and he would bend over backwards and up again like Jorge the contortionist had taught him. Ten times out of ten, without a shadow of a doubt.

Which meant that when he was faced with stilted words thick with tightly repressed anxiety, it didn’t matter that it was Cass, who hadn’t breathed a word to him for a month when he came home, who stopped coming to him when she was nonverbal and she knew he would translate to the world for her.

What mattered was that this was his little sister, and he’d always love her.

His expression softened a fraction, a change only she would notice. The neutrality of his voice was lightly tinted with comfort. “What worried you? Me?”

She nodded tightly once, her jaw tight.

He let his lips soften a little more, releasing some of the control to try and comfort her. “Well, I don’t know what I did, but I’m fine, okay? No need to worry about me.”

She made a hard noise of dissent, frowning at him. Firmly, she said “Something wrong.”

“I’m fine, Bl-”

Another hard noise. “Something. Wrong.”

Dick felt his lips twitch slightly at the stubborn insistence, knowing the endearing glare that would be under the mask. “Okay. Okay, BB, what’s up?”

What he could see of her expression twisted, moving from stubborn to a discomforted uncertainty as she tried to find the words. “...Nightwing different. Fight differently. Heavier. Like... “

She paused again. A confused twist pulled the corner of her lips as she wracked her memory for whatever similarity she was drawing.

Dick was channelling all of his control into not showing panic to her. There were a few people who had trained him that he never wanted people knowing about. Bruce had been harsher at training in the early days, before he refined it, and they didn’t speak about that. Spyral was the obvious one, but she hadn’t even fought them and the footage had no names connected to it. The one he hoped she wouldn’t guess, that not even Bruce really knew the details about, was-

“...Deathstroke?” Her head tilted quizzically at him, like a curious animal.

Somehow, he managed to keep his cool. “BB, it’s just leftover from Spyral’s training, that’s all. No need to worry.”

She didn’t seem to fully accept that, but she accepted it enough for Dick. “If that’s all, then I’ve gotta-”

“Quinn.” Cass interrupted, staring at him. “Explain?”

Internally, Dick sighed, having hoped he could avoid this. Externally, he huffed lightly at the interruption, habitually capitalising on the interruption to tease her. “One of these days, I’ll finish a sentence.”

Her exposed features tightened, and her body language stilled. Oh, yeah, he almost forgot that they weren’t close anymore, or even siblings. She didn’t want him doing familiar shit like that.

He could feel tension creeping into his jaw, still carefully presented as relaxed for now. “Sorry, that was mean. I know-” He shook his head theatrically, and said, “Nevermind. You asked about Quinn? She showed up awhile ago and started doing hero work. When she wouldn’t stop, I decided it would be a better call to have her where I can watch instead of bouncing around Blud without supervision.”

He rolled his eyes exaggeratedly to sell the partial truth, as if it was an extra chore or something.

Her cowl lenses narrowed ever so slightly. Then, very slowly, she says, “Quinn makes you…mmm…light. Happy?” She makes a dissatisfied noise, rejecting the words with a hint of frustration. Then, the answer comes to her, lenses wide and a tiny smile. “Makes you feel Robin.”

His heart thumped. He remembered when she had asked about why he’d chosen Robin, so he’d explained what it meant. The freedom, the joy, the hope. She was trying to say that Quinn made him feel what it meant to be Robin, with all the good that it entails.

He nodded a little, and his words escaped before he could check them. “Yeah… it’s nice having someone around to talk to.”

As soon as he realised the implication he’d left in that, the loneliness it admitted, he raced to cover it up. He shrugged, the motion feeling unnatural in how naturally he made himself move, and said “I guess it reminds me of being Robin, and having my own Robin. Simpler times, y’know? But really, BB, I’m fine.”

He knew the moment that he **** the bright smile to his lips that he’d made a mistake.

He blamed how they had slipped into a familiar dynamic, as he filled in all the words she couldn’t speak. Because, rather than the fond-happy-memory smile he’d been aiming for, he dragged his reassuring-everything-is-great smile on. The one he used whenever he saw any of his siblings or friends since Spyral, which made sure they knew they hadn’t hurt him in any way when they tore away pieces of his heart and soul.

Her figure stilled at the same time as his. Neither could see the other’s eyes, but they could feel how their gazes locked.

“Lying.”

The word was short and sharp. Dick flinched ever so slightly, but more than enough for Cass to read.

He needed to end this now, before she asked questions.

“BB, I’m fine. I just don’t really want to talk right now, okay?”

“Hiding.”

Practically against his will, a bitter note struck him, sneering, “Privacy, actually. It’s only hiding if someone is looking.”

Then it faded, and he just felt upset with himself for being mean, and really tired. “So… just, go home, Ca- Black Bat. Stop suddenly worrying about me, and go spend time with your siblings, okay?”

Without waiting to see or hear an answer, Dick shot off his line and let it pull him away. He felt even worse for taking advantage of her selective mutism and verbal delay, but he needed to be out of that situation before she could start digging.

It would be better if she got upset with him, actually. That way she’d stay away. She didn’t need to be exposed to what Dick hid. He couldn’t risk it, her actually seeing him. She’d feel responsible or guilty for never realising. He never wanted that, if he could help it.

She was his little sister, and he’d do anything to protect her. Even from himself.