Pairings/Characters: Dick (Bruce, Wee!Dick in a lot of flashbacks)
Spoilers: Um, unless anyone in DC Land doesn’t know that Batman is dead.
Summary: After Bruce is gone, Dick’s memories overwhelm him down in the Cave.
Date Of Completion: March 10, 2009
Date Of Posting: March 29, 2009
Disclaimer: I don’t own ‘em, DC does, more’s the pity.
Word Count: 536
Feedback welcome and appreciated.
Author’s Notes: When I requested Bruce and Wee!Dick prompts, ai_ici_lover asked for this prompt. Hope you like it, ai_ici_lover! :)
The squeaking of bats drifted down from the Cave’s rafters, a counterpoint to the low hum of computer machinery.
The figure standing in front of the case enclosing the latest Batsuit touched the glass, the cold seeping into ungloved fingers. Silky dark hair obscured the face as his head bowed, lithe young body garbed in blue-and-black spandex.
Above the earth the wind howled.
Below the earth, Dick Grayson howled.
Robin was so tired! He yawned, trying to keep awake. It had been a tough week.
He rested his head against the chimney. His knees were drawn up, elbows resting on them as he watched smoke curl lazily up from the chimney on the next roof. Batman was going to meet him here and Robin fought to keep awake.
It wouldn’t do to fall asleep on the job.
The howl died away inside of Dick. He hadn’t opened his mouth. Instead he opened the case.
He detached the cape, slipping it out.
His hands trembled as they clutched the blue-black silk, the glint of tears in his eyes.
Robin stirred awake, suddenly aware of silk on his bare arms and legs. He smiled as he looked up.
Batman was beside him, his cape draped around his young partner. He wasn’t angry that Robin had fallen asleep. He didn’t smile, but his lips quirked slightly.
Robin joyfully burrowed closer, feeling safe and happy.
The case glinted in the Cave’s soft lighting, so many different costumes, early versions, heavily-armored styles, suits for every contingency.
All with capes.
Dick blew his nose, shivering under the covers. He had picked up the flu that was going around, feverish and aching, his head feeling like it was stuffed with cotton.
Alfred was taking care of him but he was worried: another night of patrol without back-up for Bruce.
He refused supper, his stomach too upset, and he tried to sleep, fitful for several hours before finally falling asleep.
When he next awoke, he felt silk draped over him. Clutching at it, he smiled and fell instantly asleep, not waking again until morning.
Tears fell onto the cape that Dick still clutched.
Dick knelt in front of his parents’ headstone, the wind blowing dead leaves through the cemetery. The day was gray and cold and bleak.
His throat tightened with unshed tears. It was a year since…
Bruce was suddenly there, his hand on his shoulder.
Later that night, Bruce placed his cape around Robin when they sat on a rooftop.
Dick fell to his knees in front of the case, face buried in the cape.
The bats fell silent.
When Dick rose, he slipped the cape over his shoulders, the cowl obscuring the tear-ravaged eyes.
Hundreds of bats flew down and around him in a swirl of wings, whirling and rustling and dipping around the well-muscled man in the cowl and cape.
The new Master of the Cave.
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