A kid version of Robin!Dick gets teleported into the present day of the DCU, in particular during one of those times that Batfamily are split up and at each other’s throats with only Tim(my) and Alfred sort of trying to keep the peace.
They don’t know he’s present until he jumps in from out of nowhere to help the Batfamily take on a Scarecrow attack.
How would they react to this tiny version of Dick and his more chipper and lively attitude especially once he starts asking Batman if these other guys around them are their allies or something?
THE FUNNY THING IS IVE ACTUALLY BEEN THINKING ABOUT THIS TOPIC SEPARATELY IN MY HEAD!!
Not this exact scenario but just like how much Dick has changed over the years.
This is SUCH a good fanfic idea!!!
Okay so Dick would jumps into the future where the whole family is fighting and all of a sudden, a brightly colored boy just "POP"'s into the dark batcave.
Everyone at that point had been growling and snarling and screaming at each other over ethics and morals and course of action for a case that devolved into tearing at family lines and loyalties.
The tensions are high and no one is on anyone's side because as united as the batfamily is, they are just as divided.
They're seconds from coming to blows when - pop (goes the weasel. lol jk) - a 3 foot 2'' boy in the most canary yellow cape, scarlet vest, and emerald green scaled shorts blinks into existence.
The batfamily immediately goes for their weapons at the sound and most barely refrain from throwing them at the sight of a boy but some weapons slip out people's hands too fast for them stop.
They watch with their hearts in their throats and move as one to prevent it, their minds barely registering the sight in front of them, the only thought in their heads is - STOP! As if mere words could halt assailing weapons hurtling at breakneck speeds towards the child.
They've barely started moving when the small child - he couldn't have been taller than Batman's hip at the height he was - suddenly bounced on his right foot and used the moment to twirl horizontally in the air. The brilliant yellow cape swirled around his body as he turned, almost acting like a cocoon. The batarang sailed underneath their twirling body while two knives sliced the air harmlessly above him, all three weapons embedding themselves soundlessly into the cave walls behind him.
The batfamily makes an aborted move forward, halting in their tracks as the imminent danger passed and the walking traffic light of a child uses their split-second of decision to stop to take the time to gracefully land on his toes before flipping far out of reach. His back arched back into a perfect elegant little backflips which absolutely should not be possible or done so smoothly for a boy as young as he, but the kid manages anyway to land perched on a railing from the upper batcave level, looking down at them from his spot.
Duke glanced around to see if the rest of them had seen the same thing he did. Clearly not because Bruce, Tim, and Alfred looked like they'd seen a ghost. Jason and Damian looked grudgingly impressed. Steph looked openly impressed.
"So, we’ve got surprise visitors, huh? Gee, swell! You folks friends of B? Wait a sec-that can’t be right. B doesn’t have any friends except for me!" The kid chirped - and Duke swore, honest to god, chirped - with a cheeky grin, hands on his hips like he'd just cracked the world's funniest joke.
Duke just stood there, mouth slightly open, like his soul had momentarily left his body. The kid’s mask squinted as if narrowing his eyes at Bruce.
Duke blinked hard. Am I hallucinating? Did I eat bad takeout? He thought.
Bruce, meanwhile, stood frozen, looking like he was wondering where in his life he went wrong.
“Gee whiz, mister, I don’t mean to jump to conclusions or nothin’, but it’s kinda bad manners to go borrowin’ somebody else’s clothes without asking first!” He gave Bruce an exaggerated once-over, the grin on his face making it clear he wasn’t intimidated in the least. “I mean, that cape looks swell and all, but it isn't exactly screaming ‘your size,’ ya know?”
He tilted his head and piped up, “A friend of Catwoman’s?” His voice was light, full of curiosity and mischief.
Jason suddenly snorted. "A friend of Catwoman's, alright."
Cass gently smiled. Duke suspected she had known from the beginning who he was and thus had not moved a muscle during the chaos. Duke couldn’t shake the feeling it wasn’t because of uncertainty. Nope, Cass had known. She always knew.
He sighed internally. Why was he always the last to catch on to these Batfamily mysteries? On the other hand, maybe he should be grateful. He was still wiping off the remaining sludge off his suit from the last batfamily mayhap.
"Dick?" Bruce’s voice was raw, breaking apart as if it couldn’t decide whether to hope or mourn. It was the sound of disbelief and desperate longing, the kind of ache you didn’t just hear—you felt it. Duke’s chest tightened, a lump forming in his throat. He couldn’t imagine what it must mean to Bruce, but the pain was so thick it was almost unbearable.
"Who are you, mister?" Dick - holy fuck that was Dick. Wait- Duke whipped his head around. Where was their Dick?!
Tim was looking a little peaky in Duke's opinion and that was saying something since the other guy always looked pale.
Bruce raised a shaking hand to his cowl, dragging it down the back of his head almost looking like he wanted to do anything but. "Bruce. It's me, Bruce."
"I know you're a guy who looks like Bruce, but you're not my Bruce."
If his kids' previous deaths hadn't killed Bruce, then that one single sentence did, Duke thought, watching the man.
He saw a flicker of something break inside Bruce. The hardened mask Bruce wore cracked, revealing the raw, vulnerable man beneath. It was like hearing the one thing he feared most—that he wasn’t enough for them—and the way it pierced him was brutal. The light left Bruce's eyes for a moment, and Duke could almost feel the weight of that rejection.
It probably hurts to hear it from an 8 year old version of a person that adored you. Duke realized sadly. He wasn't there for Dick's childhood with the man - none of them were - but he was sure it wasn't called the Golden Ages by everyone for show by all those who had known them then.
"Wait, Alfred?" Dick asked, boring holes into the elderly butler.
So, he recognizes the same Alfred but not Bruce? Duke fought back a hysterical laugh. That's gotta sting. Sorry, man. Duke sent a silent prayer to the man who looked like he didn't know if he was going to start sobbing or glaring daggers.
Alfred cleared his throat, rather wetly in Duke's opinion. "Yes, son." He said and smiled warmly.
The boy gave a hoot of laughter that sent the bats in a flurry as he threw himself off the railing. Steph and Jason scrambled to catch him but mini-Dick (Duke was still half-panicking over where big-Dick went. Big-Dick. Haha) hopped onto Jason's shoulder used Stephanie's back as a personalized springboard and landed happily in Alfred's arms.
He hugged the man's neck like it was a plush toy and Alfred tightly held the boy with one arm under his thighs and the other around his waist.
Duke noted with no small amount of surprise that Dick perceptively didn't point of Alfred's suspiciously wet eyes and near-silent sniffling. It was damn loud for the cave though.
"Hey, did you whip up some cookies? I gotta say, that casserole’s a real knock-out, and your filet mignon? Spot on! Say, after we chow down, how about a rousing game of badminton? I’m on fire today! Let’s shake a leg, have some fun, and see who’s got the best swing!"
"Of course, Master Dick." Alfred said and the two continued conversing as Alfred carried the boy up the stairs of the batcave.
"Say, did you get to the next chapter of Lady in the Lake? I gotta tell ya, there's something fishy goin' on there, like a real gumshoe mystery. I can smell a twist coming a mile away, like a crook with a bad alibi! Whaddya think? There’s more to this dame than meets the eye, I betcha!"
Dick's voice faded as the rest of them dumbfoundedly realized they needed to follow after the two of them. Except for Cass, of course, who was already tugging a stiff Stephanie along.
Duke couldn’t help notice Tim. The guy was practically glowing in the corner like he was about to faint, his face flush with excitement. Duke knew all about Tim’s obsession with Grayson—Steph had spilled enough gossip to fill a novel. Tim had ranted about Dick for years, quoting everything from his acrobatics to his smile. But now, seeing the younger version of Grayson in front of him? Tim was this close to passing out. His eyes were practically sparkles. If there were stars in the Batcave, they were all shining in Tim’s eyes.
“Tim, dude, you alright?” Duke teased, but Tim couldn’t even form words. He just gave a thumbs-up so exaggerated it might as well have come with a marching band soundtrack.
Duke couldn’t shake the feeling that Damian was acting a little… off. The usually fierce, unflappable kid was clearly trying to maintain his tough exterior, but Duke could see the subtle signs. The way Damian’s eyes flicked over to Dick with just a hint of nervousness, his stance rigid, like he was bracing for something, but not quite sure what.
"Is it just me, or is Dick an absurdly happy kid?" Duke suddenly spoke, thinking about Dick's demeanor. The older Dick Grayson was so strict and while he joked, there wasn't a free-hearted levity in him that his child version carried.
The kid had been practically shining, bouncing around the Batcave as if it were his personal playground. This was the same kid who had grown into the stoic, responsible, and sometimes brooding Nightwing. The difference was like night and day. Duke could see the weight of the years had changed him, and as he watched this boy, full of energy and warmth, he realized just how much had been lost. This wasn't the Dick they all knew. This was a Dick that had never seen the kind of pain that had hardened him into the man they looked up to.
It was a version of Dick they would never witness - laughing so freely, so full of life - one that was locked away in Bruce's heart, his memories paying tribute to their god-like figure he'd embellished of their brother.
It was a homage Bruce had unknowingly clung to and fed into, and a part of Duke wondered how much of this Dick, too, had buried inside himself.
Duke felt an ache in his bones, realizing just how much was buried under the weight of Dick’s current life. The boy before him was a ghost of the past that no one would ever get back.
Jason groaned. "One depressing revelation at a time, Duke." He stomped his way up the stairs followed by near swooning Tim, and an anxious Damian.
Bruce hadn't moved an inch. It was as if the air around him had thickened, suffocating both of them with tension. Bruce, usually so composed, was now locked in a frozen tableau of silent agony. His face was unreadable, but his eyes - Duke could see them - betrayed a terrible storm. Guilt, loss, and a deep, unspoken grief. The kind of grief that didn’t make noise but settled in your bones and dragged you under.
But Duke was The Signal. He was the Light, that's what his emblem meant. While Bruce was drowning in his own anguish, Duke could not afford to drown with him. So he patted the man on the back and followed his brothers up the stairs, readying himself for more horrifying realizations about the loss of innocence and joy from their favorite brother.
