Letting Go

Damian mumbled something incoherent as Dick shifted him in his arms. It had been two hours since Dick had found out about the reboot, and finally Damian had cried himself to sleep.

Dick wiped away a few stray tears of his own and looked down at the boy who he'd come to consider his own young protégé. The infant, despite his age, had been so belligerent and dismissive when they'd first met. However, as time passed the former assassin's walls began to fall and their little rag-tag family slowly came together. Even Tim and Jason, who had seemed so unconcerned with the boy at first had come around over time. When Dick had first seen them all bundled up together on the couch after a long "Bat family movie night" he'd practically radiated happiness.

The sound of dripping water echoed about the Batcave and he vaguely wondered if it was raining outside. Ironic, he considered, given it always rained when people are ridden with grief in the movies. Although that tended to occur when someone died, and no one had particularly died here. At least, they realized that now.

The former Robin clutched his little brother's stubby little hand and let out a choked laugh. Would Damian have to take up his father's mantle one day—reverting back into that cold, lonesome boy he once was? Even if the original Bat was back, his disappearance just proved that he wouldn't last, and Dick couldn't always be there to fill in for him.

"Richard?"

Heh, speak of the devil.

"Hey Bruce," he greeted amiably, all traces of his previous grief gone in a heartbeat. However, the Dark Knight was not so easily fooled, and his son had neglected to hide the shiny tear streaks that marred the younger man's sharp features.

Bruce brushed the observations aside; it was clear why Dick was upset, and he'd heard from Barbara that every time someone even uttered any sort of version of the word "reboot," the boy would immediately burst into more sobs.

Instead he turned his attention to the infant in his eldest son's arms. "How is he?"

"He's fine—still a little upset about the whole…you know," Bruce noted that he pointedly avoided the word (most likely for the sake of whatever dignity he had left.) "But I'm sure he'll be fine when he wakes up."

The Dark Knight frowned. And you? he practically ached to ask, but knew Dick would simply scoff at his concerns, acting as if everything was alright, even though it—he—never was.

"Are you sure about this?" Bruce deflected, "You won't wait for him to wake up?"

Dick shook his head, "Nah, I can't. Especially since I know when I see those big, blue eyes I won't be able to stop these damn tears." He smiled sheepishly, "Pathetic, aren't I?"

Bruce huffed, but it sounded more like a deep growl. If that's pathetic, I must be hopeless, he grumbled to himself, reminiscing on all the times all four Robins' different blues had made his stony façade crumble. At best, he'd made it about a minute and a half into both the eyes and the fatal pout. (Though he was pleased to say the rest of the League had yet to even pass just the eyes, never mind the pout.)

Nostalgia aside, the cave seemed to drop ten degrees with tension. "So then you're leaving, just like that?"

"Yeah," Dick sighed. "There's no reason to keep staying here, now that Gotham has her rightful Bat back, and I've left Blüdhaven long enough. It's about time I return home." He chuckled, but it lacked all its usual radiance. "I bet my apartment's buried in dust now.

"In fact: here," Dick walked closer to his adoptive father and gently placed the sleeping child in his arms, careful not to wake him. "I should get going."

Bruce watched him like a hawk as he walked, shoulders just slightly slumped, over to the elevator. He pressed the button to go up and when the doors swung open he hesitated, standing just inside the elevator but not quite getting in.

He was so silent, Bruce almost jumped when he finally spoke (except he was the goddamn Batman, and the goddamn Batman does not get surprised.) "Hey Bruce?"

"Yes, Dick?"

"Please, just…take care of him for me, okay?"

He blinked, and then the barest hint of a smile graced his hardened features.

"Of course."