Leap of Faith
1,972 words | Emotional Hurt/Comfort
Nightwing fanfiction | Ao3
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Somehow, despite the smog and corruption, Gotham's skyline still managed to steal his breath away every time he stood atop its towering skyscrapers. It was all about the kaleidoscope of lights that danced across the city, shimmering blues and pale yellows brightening the horizon while only succeeding in accenting the looming shadows. It was stunning in a way few things could be and he simply stood there on the ledge and basked in it for a moment longer.
"Nightwing," The comm. unit in his ear crackled to life and Barbara's soft voice drowned out the traffic below.
"Here," He responds, not taking his eyes off the stage lights dancing around the Iceberg Lounge.
"You've been standing there an awfully long time," She says it like it's just a simple observation, nothing important or remarkable, just filling the silence. If he was anyone else he may just believe that even, but he knew what she was getting at. There was a silent prodding, unspoken but understood.
"Yeah, I guess I have. Just enjoying the view."
"Is it nice?"
"Yeah. Yeah, it reminds me home." Bright lights coloring the sky, swirling colors and sights to behold.
"Crime rates are down tonight, maybe heading home is a good idea." They both know that wasn't the home he was talking about but he could feel the brisk night air sinking deeper and deeper into his suit and he would absolutely kill for some of Alfred's hot cocoa right about now.
"Maybe." He hums. He doesn't know if he has the energy for a home visit right now, he's only in Gotham to cover Jason's patrol route for the night. "Who's home tonight?" He presses. He loves Damian, but he doesn't think he's in the headspace to handle his particular brand of love.
"Batman and Robin are still on patrol. Red and Agent A are the only ones in."
"Yeah, okay. A trip home might be good." He concedes, stretching his arms over his head before stretching out his back. 'Thanks, O."
"Anytime, Boy Wonder."
He can't help but smile, unraveling a grappling line from a hidden pocket at his hip before leaping gracefully from the office balcony of Wayne Enterprises. Distantly, he thinks he could find some symbolism there about leaving the nest and taking a leap of faith, but rather than dwell on that he throws out the line and neatly swings through the streets. It was times like this where he could feel whole, feet off the ground and the only thought on his mind the feeling of the wind in his hair and where he would leap from next. It was just him and his bag of tricks, twists and flips that were second nature to him but the act of them temporarily filling a permanent hole in his heart. The lights and skyscrapers fly by in blurs of color and grayscale, flashes of light and dark, and before he knows it Wayne Manor is in sight and one of the hidden entrances to the Batcave only one leap away.
He scales down a fire escape into one of the many mangy alleys of Gotham, scanning the area for any potential witnesses before prying a chipped brick from the wall with ease. Behind the brick a piece of shiny new tech resides and he pressed his hand to the smooth screen of the bio-scanner without hesitation. There's a soft whir and a green light blinking to life and within seconds the dumpster a few feet away is rising. The concrete it was positioned on moved up and to the side smoothly to reveal a ramp lined with dim blue lights leading further and further down. He slips into the entrance quickly, the door sliding back into place the second he passes the threshold. The ramp leads to a corridor much the same, long and sleek slate lined with dim lights embedded in the floor. It's familiar in a way that he finds comforting despite the ominous aura the dark halls radiate, a home away from home that offered a place to grieve and ache time and time again. He works on removing the smaller pieces of his suit as he makes his way through the corridor, tugging at each finger of his glove on his left hand before pulling it off and repeating the process on his right, peeling off his domino mask, unclipping the sheath for his escrima from his back. By the time all the small pieces have been comfortably stripped away and tucked under his arm the hallway had opened into the gaping maw of the cave system the Batman called his base of operations. As always, a majority of the cave is coated in shadows and the roar of rushing water fills the silence. If one can focus their hearing they may even hear the chitter of bats nestled in the stalactites.
Usually, when Dick showed up there'd be a quip on his tongue for Bruce, whether he be brooding at the Batcomputer or grounded in the medical wing. He's especially glad Bruce isn't here now because he just didn't have the energy and Bruce would immediately catch on. He sighs, a weighted noise that sags his shoulders, and works on stripping out of the rest of his uniform as he makes his way over to the medbay knowing there would be a spare pair of his sweatpants and T-shirts there for him to throw on.
He doesn't even remember changing, so lost in his thoughts, but even as he climbs the stairs to the elevator that will lead him to the Manor he can't quite remember what he was thinking so hard about either. It's concerning, at least it should be, but Dick has found himself burnt out like this so many times now that he can't even bother to be worried about it. He's glad, distantly, that Barbara pulled him from patrol before something happened.
"Master Dick," He had said one night while Bruce was in critical condition in the medical wing downstairs, "I know it's hard to admit you're afraid, so let us come up with a secret, just for us." He had crouched down in front of Dick where he was curled up on one of the many couches in the Manor, "Any time you are scared, or sad, or any other emotion you believe you aren't allowed to feel, you tell me that you've had a long night." Dick had been reluctant then, but Alfred knew exactly what strings to pull. "It would me make me feel much better if you'd allow to me to help you, Richard." He'd said and little Dick had been sold immediately.
When he looks up again he's in the kitchen and Alfred is looking at him from the other side of the island with a quirked eyebrow and his signature unimpressed expression. Dick isn't fooled, however, he can see the concern in those bright eyes, but there was always a pressure to keep up appearances in this house, even with each other. "Master Dick," Alfred greets sternly, "It's quite unsightly to slouch."
Dick smiles but from the look on Alfred's face it must look as tired as he feels. He straights up with a roll of his shoulders and a two-fingered salute. "Sorry, Alf. Guess it's been a long night." Alfred's expression softens considerably at their own secret code. It was something they had come up with together when Dick was much smaller than he is now during the horrifically early mornings after nightmares and close calls. Dick has never been one to admit to being afraid, he was raised by fearless acrobats and the Batman after all, but after too many late nights and lonely crying Alfred had proposed a solution.
"Luckily for you, sir, I have just the remedy." Alfred waved Dick closer and Dick swiftly plants himself into one of the stools lining his side of the island. He watches as Alfred pulls a steaming kettle from the stove, Babs must've given the butler a heads-up, and pours two cups full. It's soothing to watch Alfred gracefully move about the kitchen, grabbing cocoa and milk and even a bag of mini-marshmallows and mixing it all together with practiced ease. Alfred slides one of the mugs across the counter towards Dick and rests the other at the end of the counter.
"Not for you?" Dick teases half-heartedly, cradling his own mug in hands and gazing into the dark reflection.
"Never," Alfred sounds almost offended at the idea, "You aren't the only one who's had a long night, Master Dick." He explains cryptically.
Dick hums, glancing up at Alfred and then towards the archway leading out into the grand entrance. He's not entirely surprised when Tim comes shuffling into the kitchen but Tim certainly looks surprised to see him, eyes wide as he stops dead in his tracks at the sight of him.
Dick smiles again and it feels a lot more genuine this time around, "Hey, Timmy." He greets, lifting a single hand from his mug to offer a quick wave.
Tim waves back silently, hesitantly stepping further into the kitchen to scoop up his own mug, "Why're you here?" He asks, blunt and suspicious.
"Ouch," Dick deadpans in response, though he doesn't mind as much as he pretends to.
"An unplanned visit, I assure you, Master Timothy, this is no intervention." Alfred reassures, going about putting everything back in its proper place.
Dick huffs a soft laugh, blowing on his drink, "Why? Do you think you need one?" He asks his brother, amused.
Tim glares but the effect is lost as he smiles too and slides into the stool at the other end of the island, he reaches over and gently pushes Dick's shoulder, "No. Do you? You got to hot chocolate first, that seems like your issues are much bigger."
"Or maybe I just like to eat the marshmallows while it's still hot," he counters, slurping one of the marshmallows out of the mug to prove his point. Joke aside, the sugar melting on his tongue is heavenly and beyond comforting.
"Touché," Tim shrugs. Neither of them believes the other, but the humor and the deflection is all par of the course when it comes to this family. Maybe sometime later tonight, when their stomachs are full of chocolate chip cookies and warmed by hot cocoa they're speak about their feelings in hushed tones filled with despair and pain. They'll share comforts and love and speak of support and care. They'll release their demons and their tears and clutch at the other like a lifeline because sometimes that's the only grip on reality you have.
Maybe later.
For now, Dick just smiles and sips at his drink and basks in the sound of Tim's laughter when he burns his tongue and Alfred scolds his impatience half-heartedly. He relishes in the small touches, and Tim's stifled giggles, and Alfred's fond expressions. His heart soars and his stomach sinks simultaneously because he loves them. He loves them so much it physically hurts and he misses his first home so badly that it guts him but he holds these moments so tightly because he knows just how easy they are to lose.
Tim sloshes cocoa onto his hand and yelps, and Dick barks a laugh, but it comes too close to morphing into a sob and he's not ready for that yet. That's for later, so instead, he just chuckles tearily and brushes off the water lining his eyes as mirth. Tim and Alfred share unsure glances but humor him nonetheless, and when Alfred makes them both another cup he makes a third and sits down with them to enjoy a warm drink.
Maybe, just maybe, they won't need a later after all.