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Some nights, Dick can't imagine why he never wanted to be Batman.
Their family of crime fighters has grown stronger and closer over the past two years. Even Bruce, freshly returned from his tumble through time, fits into their dynamic with ease.
Going out into the night with Damian by his side fills Dick with the same excitement and wonder he felt during the early days of working with Bruce. Everything was easier then but also so new and therefore infinitely more complicated. Dick never thought he would feel that magic again.
In opposition, on the nights Dick coordinates with Damian and Steph, Cass and Tim joining, Huntress and Oracle not far behind, he seems to be back with the Titans. An intergenerational attribute to the team Dick always hoped for on his teams, so that the young ones could grow.
He enjoys watching Steph and Damian from the rooftops while they work, only intervening when absolutely necessary. It’s as if Bruce can smell such nights. More often than not, he’s there, right beside Dick, to watch the two young Bats bicker.
If anyone would look up and squint into the darkness, they'd see two Batmen standing in the wind, their capes beating like wings.
It feels right.
All of it feels right.
Dick is growing used to dynamics he thought he would never have again. He has grown used to Gotham as his city, and as Dick looks out of his bedroom window, watching the familiar buildings be shone upon by bright light while he still sits in the bed Bruce slept in years ago after the manor went too quiet during Dick's time in college, Dick knows he needs to leave again.
It's not because some days are too perfect, though that is part of it. No matter how much he might want to, he can't deny it.
It is more so about the fact that Batman will never be his, not now that Bruce has returned, and neither will Gotham. He doesn't love Gotham the way Bruce does, and neither does he want to belong to Gotham, not after what happened to Blüdhaven.
The mere thought of the city he tried his damndest to save makes old scars, both physically and emotionally, hurt so much Dick wishes he could stay in bed all day.
After the disaster struck and Dick couldn't help the city he made his home, Dick cut himself loose from Blüdhaven and rebuilt his life elsewhere. To be called near it again, his biggest failure always in sight, the best example that good cannot last no matter how much blood, sweat and tears one puts into it, nearly broke him.
Bruce would bury himself in a hole if he knew Dick is still thinking those thoughts.
Bruce, who does this too, always guilty of failing at inhuman perfection. Bruce, who Dick buried in his heart when there was no body to be found.
Nothing fills him with more joy than being able to see Bruce again. It’s one of the reasons why he hasn't left yet. Because the Bruce that came back? He's lighter, and Dick wants to hold onto him every time they part because he never wants to lose him again.
The cowl always feels heavier when he's not around, when Dick forgets he is not dead.
Dick manages to peels himself out of bed by midday and takes his bike from the penthouse to the manor. Alfred is out on an errand, Damian is in school, and he finds Bruce as expected in the cave, studying a sample Batman Inc. must have brought in.
"Anything I can help with?"
Bruce gives him a short once-over.
"Not looking like that," he says, turning back to the substance beneath his magnifying glass.
Dick lets out a laugh. "What's wrong with my outfit?"
"You should be suited up."
"You've got the cowl off."
"Not the point," Bruce says, but there's the faintest smile on his lips, and this time he straightens, giving Dick his full attention. Dick, meanwhile, has ambled closer to the metal desk to take a glimpse at the small sample.
"Hazardous, got it, but what is it?"
"You're too close to have gotten it."
Dick rolls his eyes but moves away. He really doesn’t want whatever this is on his person.
"Don't stall, B."
Bruce is silent, and Dick raises his brow, then two.
"You have no idea," Dick concludes, feeling gleeful at the sight of his frowny face.
Bruce sighs, pulling his gauntlet off to put pressure on his eyes. "Cave, League, and Fortress databases have nothing. I've already sent a sample to Star Labs."
Dick hums, crossing his arms. He's good at chemistry but not better than Bruce, so he leaves it be.
"But you're not here because of that, Dick."
The ‘spill it’ is implied.
The problem is Dick doesn't know how to spill it or what to spill. Being Batman any longer feels like stagnation, as insulting as that might come across to Bruce "I Am Batman" Wayne. At the same time, Dick doesn't know if he can be Nightwing again.
Clark told him about the Kryptonian legend when he most needed to hear about a hero who forged his own path despite his family’s wishes, and while he still admires the legend of Nightwing, the tale does not resonate with him anymore. Nightwing meant to change, to embrace a side of himself he had to discover. He felt complete, but now that he has been Batman and has had his own Robin, he doesn’t know if Nightwing is going to fit him anymore.
"Well… I thought about...," Dick trails off, unable to look Bruce in the tired but gentle blue eyes. He should stay if only to keep some of that weight off Bruce's shoulders — if only to be able to see that stubbly smiling face whenever he wants. His heart clenches in his chest at the thought, and he turns away.
Bruce says nothing, lets him walk it out when he begins to pace, eyes trailing him.
Dick can feel his rising tension despite the consideration Bruce shows and that's what finally makes him stop and look at the man who seems to be retreating into his shell while Dick has his little freakout. They haven't even said anything truly meaningful yet for God's sake.
"I can't stay here. I can't be Batman any longer."
The words visibly hit Bruce, eyes widening, a stunned look on his face. He schools his expression fast, frowning as he looks back at the sample. Dick watches his throat bob. The rushing of the cave stream is loud as the silence causes tension to prickle across his skin.
"Neither of us wanted you to be Batman in the first place," Bruce mumbles, the words directed more at the desk than him. It's the truth. It was the truth. Something has changed for both of them. Dick doesn't fear the responsibility anymore. Even if he could still do without such a long and heavy cape. Adapting is something he does well, and they both know it, which is why Bruce feared he'd lose himself beneath the cowl and so did Dick.
"Are you returning to New York?" Bruce does his best to keep the bitterness out of his voice but there's the slightest crack when York catches in Bruce's throat.
Dick gave New York up once the news was out that Bruce had died. He could only do so as fast and efficiently and without too much frustration because the Justice Society helped. He hasn't even been there again for Titans business because as Batman, well, he isn't a Titan.
"I'm thinking of Chicago."
Bruce's head snaps up. "That's—," he stops himself, teeth clenching. It's farther away. Only a few hours with the means of transport they have at their fingertips and only a jump if emergency protocols open the teleporters, but he'll visit less, will only be in Gotham for a social call whenever he has the time and time none of them have.
"To tell you the truth," Dick says, and Dick is quite sure he's never before started a sentence like this while speaking to Bruce, "I thought I'd wear the cowl until I die."
He's seen better and stronger people than himself die. Being in the field for so long has taught him that his own mortality can be proven at any time, and he wouldn't have been able to give the cowl to Damian, no matter how much his partner would have begged. Dick still hopes that Damian'll decide not to wear it once the time comes.
"I didn't want it at first. I knew you didn't want me to wear it for a good reason. In an ideal world, we all could have protected Gotham as ourselves and without a need for Batman, but there's always the threat of an imposter rising if none of us takes on the name. You've always known that," Dick says. "It wasn't easy. On the bad days I still sometimes look into the mirror and see a twisted version of you that's supposed to be me," Especially when you're not around, Dick doesn't say, "But I have started to like the cowl. I made Batman my own. I've been thinking… maybe this was my destiny after all."
Bruce looks at him with helpless sorrow in his eyes, shoulders slumping as if he wants Dick to take those words back; as if Dick just told Bruce in the boldest terms possible that he failed.
"But you came back to us," Dick whispers and hopes that softens the blow. "My feelings haven't changed. I still like being out in Gotham every night… but, Bruce, you don't need me like this. No one does now that you're back. I'm just in this place I shouldn't be occupying.” And that. That is the truth. The thing it all boils down to. Dick huffs. “Maybe Clark was right. Maybe I've just been wearing your skin."
Bruce’s lips grow thin.
"Clark said what to you?"
Dick flushes, realizing his mistake. "It's in the past, he just—"
"No!" It's anger. Fury even, that twists Bruce's face until it simmers down into manageable rage. "Batman is more than just me. I have a whole Batman Inc. running all over the globe! I chose you! I chose you all those years ago!"
Dick believes it, for a second he revels in it, then he bites the inside of his cheek to stave off the hurt as he thinks back to those days Bruce spent with a broken spine. His voice is quiet when he says, "But Clark didn't know that, Bruce, because you didn't choose me, not in the beginning, you chose Azrael."
Bruce stares at him, shocked as if maybe he forgot and then he just looks sad, and Dick feels guilty because whenever Bruce is hurting, Dick is hurting too.
"Listen," Dick says, hates the waver in his voice. "I won't be gone completely. Maybe I won't even like Chicago. What they call pizza is atrocious and my suit's not made for that kind of weather. You know I never got used to the snow. My parents always wintered in Florida… You think I should try Florida?”
Bruce's face tells him that’s worse.
Dick could leave, pretend all he wants is to stretch his wings once more and escape the nest. But he wants what he didn't get all those years ago, Bruce by his side if not in the flesh then over the phone whenever he needs him.
"If you want me to stay, you could say it."
Bruce's face falls. He gently shakes his head, stepping away from the metal table. Soon what Dick is facing is the broad-shouldered wall of dark Kevlar he knows so well, the same one he always seems to face whenever he leaves.
"I've forced you to stay too often."
"That's not true."
"It is," Bruce says, looking at him but not fully turning, keeping that distance.. "I’ve always been selfish about you….”
Dick follows his gaze to the old encased Robin suit. The lightest that exists..
“You changed the trajectory of my life."
"Bruce…"
Bruce sighs, cape brushing dramatically against the cave floor as he turns.
"You were so much more than a child I took in before I could even grasp the responsibility I had taken on. You were a trusted partner. A confidant. And then you needed to be more. Just as you do now. And I thought that meant you'd cut me loose but just because you want to live your life doesn't mean you're gone. I know that now."
Dick needed to hear those words then. He does not need to hear them now. As much as he appreciates them, they leave him all the more unsure.
"Then where should I go?"
Dick waits for the rebuke, but this time he isn't being pushed away. Bruce comes through.
“You don’t have to shackle yourself to one city like I did.”
It seems like everyone has one; expects him to have one. In truth, he doesn't want to be responsible for one city again. He only chose New York because, with Blüdhaven gone, it seemed like the safest option. It's where his friends are and so many other heroes. It's where he could swing over the rooftops and see Titans Tower standing proudly in the distance, save in his knowledge that not everything he ever built had ended in failure.
"Well," Dick says hesitantly, trying his dearest to test the waters. "I guess, I could do the odd job for a certain billionaire and his Batman Inc."
"You would consider that?" It doesn’t really sound like a question, more as if Bruce is a pleased cat, words coming deep from his chest.
Dick shrugs, a teasing smile forming on his lips.
"Brucie stays in some lavish hotel rooms. If I could crash there, it wouldn’t be too bad."
Bruce laughs. A rough deeps ound. "You’re a well-known Gotham hero. You can get more benefits than that."