Chapter Text
"You wanted to see me?"
Bruce turns away from the report he is writing, chair swiveling as he stands. A smile adorns Dick's lips. His hair is mused from the cowl, the cape a dark shadow over his shoulders, and Bruce's gaze is drawn towards the black shape of the bat proudly displayed on Dick's chest.
He never wanted him to wear the cowl, and yet Dick has been better for Gotham than anyone has ever been.
Bruce always knew he would be even when he did not wish the burden upon him.
"Are you alright? Alfred said it’s not an emergency, but…?"
His knuckles still throb. Hitting himself isn't the same as hitting metahumans and aliens, but it still left his skin scraped despite the gauntlets. His rage didn’t let him think.
Dick shifts. And Bruce can't keep his body from tensing and his head from snapping up.
The reaction makes Dick frown, gaze searching as he calmly steps closer, hands raised and palms showing, one hand stretched out a little as if Bruce is a skittish animal. The worry edged into Dick's face leaves him frozen, and his gaze averts to the far cave walls when one hand touches his shoulder, fingers curling around the armor he is still wearing. A shadow hushes over Dick's face that is gone too fast for him to decipher, but Bruce can guess what it is. The rusty nail. The same one he feels trilling into his chest.
It was easy between them. Once. Years ago, and sometimes in between.
"I failed you, didn't I?" he whispers, feels the cutting edges of his confession right where a bat sits mirrored on his chest. "Every step of the way."
Dick stares at him, blue eyes wide, and mouth agape in disbelief, hand more hovering than touching his shoulder now. It seems fitting. It has been like this between them for so long. Worry, fear, regret, stealing their way between them to sully what should be good.
Breathing hurts, all the things he has never managed to say, and which even now won't fall from his stubborn lips.
"Hey! No. Bruce. "
His other shoulder is grasped too. Dick looks almost frantic, and Bruce can’t breathe.
"It's alright," Dick says, lips pressed together, and mouth tensely narrowed in a familiar show of determination.
Bruce wants so desperately for the words to come but no sound escapes, not when confronted with Dick's sureness, his trust. The hands slip down his back, careful as Dick pulls him closer, and Bruce? Bruce doesn't know why he deserves the affection that Dick has always, always shown him, but he hugs back, claws into Dick in all the ways he did not dare to hold onto the younger counterpart that he sent home hours ago.
Dick freezes, so unlike the other Dick that embraced his affection, was thankful for his care. It hurts. Hurts more than Bruce will ever know how to describe because it confirms what he feared. He wasn’t better than the other Bruce (but he can be).
"I'm sorry," he whispers. Eyes squeezed shut he sees the pain the other Dick showed him again, sees an endless stream of tears slip down bronze cheeks as Dick appeared in the cave, glitching in and out of existence. "I'm so sorry."
Dick's hands lightly touch his arms, then slide to his back once more to hold him closer as if he is not already clinging onto Dick.
"You've never disappointed me, not once," Dick whispers gently.
"Don't," Bruce says, breath hitching. "You don't have to lie to me."
"Bruce," Dick says, pulling away just a little. It’s hard to let him. Bruce has trouble looking into his eyes. Behind the curtain of unshed tears, Bruce is reminded of a simpler time. "You didn't."
A fond smile plays along Dick's lips. Fingers brush stray hairs from his forehead. It makes Bruce feel small, yet secure, like a child. Even though he knows some of those hairs have long since turned gray.
"You are absolutely infuriating. And your actions have hurt me in the past, but I forgave you years ago. There is nothing to forgive now."
"I don't deserve--"
"I don't care," Dick replies, voice echoing, waking the bats, and Bruce bites his tongue. "I forgave you. I will forgive you no matter what happens. And if you're ready to change, I'll be there to help. Always."
Dick’s frown turns deeper. “I thought you knew that.”
“I do,” Bruce says practically squeezing the words from his lungs. "But you don't have to stay by my side. You don't have to stay here," Bruce says, begging Dick to understand.
"But I want to," Dick replies as if it has ever been that easy, and maybe it is. Maybe it can be again after all the years of struggling. His hands tighten around Dick’s shoulders, his gaze sticks to the dark shadow of the bat.
"I want," Bruce starts, I don't want to be that Bruce. "I want to make things right.”
Bruce doesn't dare look or move, barely even breathes.
"Okay," Dick whispers, Kevlar brushing against his cheek as Dick forces his gaze up with a sure hand. "How about... you tell me why you feel so guilty right now?"
Guilt claws into his heart. His expression almost falters. It took another Dick to make him realize how he treated his. It took wanting to one-up himself for him to want to change.
"I don't want to lose the family I have," he says.
Dr. Hurt's bullet left no scar, but if he had not returned that day, would his Dick have been in a coma? Would he have made the same mistakes the other Bruce made?
"I want you to be happy, Dick."