Chapter Text
Wayne Irish Exits?
Billionaire leaves own birthday party
by Crystal Fisher
Gotham Gossip Staff
GOTHAM— Last night’s anticipated party was cut short.
Once a year, the city’s rich and powerful gather together to celebrate Wanye Enterprises CEO Bruce Wayne’s birthday party.
The parties— hosted at the illustrious Wayne Manor— are known for their high-bar guest lists and front-page antics.
Last year, Oliver Queen and now fiancée Dinah Lance were photographed with Wayne on the roof, drinking champagne as the sun came out.
Twitter loved the pictures. View them here.
This year, however, the party came to an abrupt halt. Wayne was photographed leaving his mansion just after 10 p.m.
Less than an hour later, he was photographed at Gotham General Hospital with a woman now identified as Gotham Children’s Services director Dina Hayward.
The pair have been previously seen together at GCS events that Wayne has volunteered at.
Just before midnight, partygoers began leaving Wayne Manor in droves.
“It was like the place was on fire,” Gotham Gossip staff photographer Ethan Atwater said. “From the windows, it looked like staff were cleaning up before the door was even shut.”
As guests were leaving, security ordered paparazzi off the property with threat of police action.
“It was so odd,” Atwater said. “I’ve been covering the Wayne parties for a better part of a decade. He wants us there. In the past, we’ve been encouraged to stay as long as possible. It was like some sort of switch flipped.”
Wayne’s publicist did not respond to request for comment.
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-
When Dick woke up, the room was dark. Light was attempting to stream in, but the blackout curtains were strong. It took Dick a moment to remember that he wasn’t in the emergency room anymore.
Whatever pills that doctor gave him after finally giving him a concussion exam were strong, and he barely remembered leaving the hospital in the front seat of Connie’s car. He did, however, vividly remember making her stop at the edge of the bridge so he could throw up from the intense vertigo that came with the concussion. Once they got to Wayne Manor, Alfred Pennyworth was helpful enough to quickly escort him to bed before he fell asleep standing up.
Dick sat up and rubbed his eyes, being careful not to move too fast. In the cracks of light, he was able to make out a glass of water and two little pills before on the nightstand. He took them and then slowly made his way over to the door, bracing for the increase in light.
Walking down the hall was a slow affair. Partially because of the pain, and partially because he was taking in all of the old artwork that sat between doors and heavily curtained windows.
When he made his way down the stairs, he could hear voices and after some time wandering in the right direction, he made his way to the kitchen, where Bruce, Damian and Jason were all sitting at the breakfast nook.
Damian was in a high chair, enjoying some cereal while Jason was trying to cut up some pancakes. It was a little funny to watch him attempt to cut them with a cast over his right hand.
“Good morning,” Bruce said, he wasn’t eating, just nursing a cup of coffee. “How are you feeling?”
“I’m okay,” Dick said as he sat down.
“Are you hungry? Alfred can make you whatever you’d like, pancakes, waffles, French toast?”
Dick tried to think about what he wanted, but he couldn’t decide on it. He wanted to ask for none of it and all of it at the same time. Like he needed to preserve it and use it simultaneously.
“How about some toast, Master Dick?”
He hadn’t noticed Alfred across the room.
“Easy on the stomach, hmm?”
“Yeah,” Dick said. “That sounds good.”
Alfred brought him a glass of water before beginning on his breakfast.
“How’s Tim?” He asked.
“I called a half-hour ago,” Bruce said. “They want to see some more improvement before discharging him, but he is improving.”
Dick nodded as he drank the water.
“And the cops?” Jason asked. “We have to talk to them, don’t we?”
“In a few hours,” Bruce nodded. “In the meantime, I was hoping that I could give you boys the grand tour.”
“Can we see your Batman stuff?” Jason asked.
“Another day,” he replied. “But I’ll show you the cars.”
-
After the tour, it was clear that the screening room was one of Jason’s favorites, so the three boys sat in the reclining chairs to watch Star Wars.
Technically, the only person watching was Jason. Dick had a cold compress over his eyes and Damian was sleeping.
About a half-hour into the film, Dick sat up and looked at his brother.
“Can you pause it?” He asked.
“Going to the bathroom?” Jason replied as he pressed the right button on the remote.
“No, I just—“ Dick said. “I wanted to thank you for staying. You were on your way out but chose to still come with us, thank you and again, I’m sorry.”
It took Jason a moment to respond.
“When I learned you were Robin, I was more stressed than anything. Damian was sick, you were missing, I wasn’t mad. I was sad because I thought you didn’t trust me. And that sadness morphed into anger. At the same time, I was so sick and tired of living with Ronnie’s shit, so I called Connie. By the time she called me back, the anger towards you was mostly gone but I didn’t want to backtrack so I kept going.”
He sighed.
“I have wanted to hit Ronnie in the face for years, I’m dreamt about it, played it over and over in my head and invisioned how it would go down. So I wasn’t exactly going to let that opportunity get away from me. I knew that you were perfectly capable of hitting him back, but I was already on my way out. After it was all over and I was stuck in that room with this stupid cast, all I could think about was how I wasn’t going to be leaving the hospital with you guys. Bruce gave me the chance to stay, and I took it. You lied to me, I was upset, but that’s over now. There’s other stuff to deal with.”
“Like Ronnie,” Dick sighed. “Do you think he’d even still in Gotham?”
“Probably, cocky idiot thinks he’ll get away with it,” Jason said. “He’s messy, he’ll get caught.”
“I hope so.”
There was a knock at the door and they turned to see Bruce.
“Connie just arrived, two officers will be here shortly,” Bruce said. “Would you boys like to join us?”
It was an offer, technically, but both of the older boys were smart enough to know that it was a kind way to ask them to come out.
They met Connie in one of the front parlors, now that it wasn’t the middle of the night, she was getting a good look at all of it and Dick could tell she was impressed. Alfred was off getting her a cup of tea when the boys sat down.
“Okay,” she said, opening up one of her folders. “Here is how this is going to work, two officers are going to come with recording equipment and interview you both separately. Typically this is done at a police station, but Mr. Wayne has some significant pull in this city.”
“I thought that a police station might be stressful after yesterday,” Bruce added.
“Bruce is legally responsible for you, but he doesn’t have to be there when you talk to the police, it’s all voluntary and you are entitled to privacy. He can sit in the room or on the other side of the house, it’s completely up to you.”
“Why are you here?” Jason asked her.
“I asked her to be,” Bruce said. “I’m still new in your lives and she’s been around the block with you boys and I thought it would be helpful.”
Jason nodded.
“Afterward,” Connie said. “The officers are going to escort us to the apartment so you can get your things and explain what happened more clearly at the crime scene if needed.”
“Is there an arrest warrant out for him yet?” Dick asked.
“I don’t know,” Connie said. “But I don’t doubt that there will be after talking to you two.”
The doorbell rang and Dick watched as the Alfred walked past the parlor to answer it. The medication was working, but Dick began to feel sick with anxiety at the thought of talking about Ronnie.
Alfred returned with two people in tow.
“Detective Renee Montoya and this is Officer Sitwell,” the woman in the suit said, nodding to her companion, a man with a five o’clock shadow.
“Thank you for coming,” Bruce said. “I’m Bruce Wayne and this is Dick Grayson, Jason Todd and Damian.”
“Are three of you were present for the events were are about to discuss?”
“Yeah but I don’t think Damian will be very helpful.” Jason replied.
“Where should we set up?”
“We have a room for you to work in,” Bruce said, shaking the pair’s hands.
Alfred led them away to set up and Jason turned to Dick.
“You want to go first? Or I go first?”
“I’ll do whatever you want to do.”
“Great, I’ll go first, I’ve been waiting to rat him out for years. I’m telling them everything he ever did.”
Alfred reappeared to collect whoever had decided to go first.
Jason stood up and looked over at Bruce.
“No need, I can take care of this myself.”
Dick watched him walk away.
He tried to entertain Damian to keep him occupied, but the longer that Jason was gone, the more on edge that Dick became. He knew that Bruce could tell, but with Connie present, neither said anything.
Eventually, Jason came back. His brother looked a little drained, but gave Dick a quick thumbs up as he traded places with him.
“I’ll walk you down,” Bruce said, standing up.
Dick nodded and let Bruce take the lead. They walked in silence, and when they reached the open door to the library, Dick turned to him.
“You can come in.”
“You sure?” Bruce asked.
“Yeah,” Dick nodded. “I don’t want to have to tell this story twice.”
Bruce nodded and went in the room after him.
Detective Montoya and Officer Sitwell were sitting on one of the couched, they had a video camera positioned towards the chair opposite to the couch.
“Mr. Grayson, please, have a seat,” Montoya said.
Dick sat down in the chair and Bruce moved another to be close but still out of the camera’s frame.
Sitwell began recording and Montoya flipped a page in her notebook.
“Richard—“
“I prefer Dick.”
“Okay, Dick, can you tell me how you came to be in the care of Ronald Cooper?”
So he began, he told them about Haly’s Circus and his parents and the snap of the rope. He talked about Elaine and the first few months and Jason showing up and how everything seemed fine.
Then he talked about Ronnie cheating on Elaine and the descent in quality of life in the home. He talked about how by the time Tim showed up, Ronnie was buying rum instead of food.
“When he brought Damian home, he just dumped him on me, and the check was more ‘cause he was a baby and so Ronnie started taking money from me. The rent did go up around that time, but the amount he took was inconsistent each month.”
“When you went to school, who was taking care of Damian? Was Ronald staying home?”
“No,” Dick shook his head. “I found a daycare program he could get into for cheap and I was working to pay for it.”
“What were you doing?”
“I was a dishwasher at Bonnie’s Diner in the Narrows, on 83rd Street.”
“How many hours a week were you working?”
“Forty.”
“Before or after school?”
Dick’s heart dropped, he began to mess with the material of his pants.
“Dick?” Montoya asked.
“I wasn’t going to school,” Dick shook his head without looking up.
“Not going to school?”
“I was getting up to get the kids to school and daycare, then going to work, and then getting off to pick them up, take them home and cook dinner.”
“Were you aware that in New Jersey you need to attend school through the age of 16?”
“I didn’t technically drop out, the district offers an online track, I signed up and no one ever checked my progress.”
“So you just didn’t do it?”
“I didn’t have any time.”
“Okay,” Montoya said. “By this time, your brother’s account includes intermittent physical abuse. He recalled being hit, slapped, and shoved by Ronald at various occasions, did he ever hit you?”
“No.”
“What about Tim or Damian?”
“No.”
“And verbal abuse?”
Dick shrugged.
“What does that mean?”
“He’d yell I guess, threaten to throw us out and worse if we didn’t let him have the money.”
The detective nodded. “Can you tell me about the days leading up to last night?”
From there, Dick talked about Tim being sick, the money he hid behind his headboard and the final confrontation. He explained how once Ronnie say what he and done, he took off and how his brother called an ambulance.
The words tumbled out of him and Dick truly didn’t come back to himself until the camera was turned off. Detective Montoya thanked him for his honesty.
Dick didn’t even realize that his cheeks were wet until the two cops were out of the library.
“Are you okay to go to the apartment?” Bruce asked.
“Yeah, I’m fine.” Dick said. “But it’s time for Damian’s nap, I have to put him down first.”
“Alfred will take care of that.”
“Are you sure?”
“Alfred used to put me to bed, he is perfectly capable of handling your brother.”
Dick nodded, but he didn’t like it. He was supposed to be doing that. He’d been doing it for over a year, it was his responsibility.
“Come on, we should get going.”
-
Bruce had been to the Narrows more in the last few months than the rest of his career as Batman, but driving there with the boys felt different. They met the landlord outside, who led them upstairs.
The halls stunk like smoke, and when they were let into the apartment, Bruce felt his heart drop.
All those months ago, Jason had told him that the parlor was bigger than his whole apartment. It was then that Bruce realized there was truth to the statement.
Everything was crushingly close to everything else. The kitchen was spilling into the living room, the living room was exploding at the seams. The couch was held together with duct tape, the kitchen table (there was no dining room) was kept level by a book.
The cops stood back and the boys were set free to their own rooms. Whatever crime scene there was, had already been cleaned up.
As Dick slipped into his room, Bruce caught sight of what was inside. Most of the room was taken up by a full sized bed. There was a crib less than two feet from the foot of the bed against the opposite wall. Between the aforementioned furniture, a nightstand and a dresser, the room had practically no room for any movement. The floor was a ness, covered in the items if the ransacked room.
“Could you do me a favor?” Dick asked, snapping Bruce out of his mind.
“Sure,” he told him.
“Under the sink there’s a box of trash bags.”
Bruce nodded and retrieved them. When he handed the box to Dick, he took out a bag for himself and then handed it to Jason, who did the same.
Bruce watched as the oldest began to stuff the bag full of clothes.
Dick noticed him watching and spoke up.
“We don’t have suitcases.”
Bruce nodded.
“How can I help?” He asked.
“You can help me pack Tim’s stuff.” Jason told him.
Jason and Tim’s room was similar to Dick and Damian’s: it was far too small and far too crowded. There was barely any room was Bruce and Jason to maneuver around each other as they packed. The room was cramped by nature, it wasn’t the fault of the positioning of the twin beds, the desk or the dresser, the space was just too small.
As the trash bags piled up by the front door, Bruce felt angrier and angrier at the conditions the boys had been living in. But showing it wouldn’t help, so Bruce put his anger into packing.
Neither boy looked back when they left, Sitwell locking the door behind them.
The cops left them with a promise to be in touch. They loaded up the trunk with the bags and Jason spoke up.
“Can we visit Tim?”
Bruce changed lanes.
-
Tim didn’t really remember leaving the apartment. The time between the previous night and that morning was a blur. Luckily, the nurse had been kind enough to explain that he had pneumonia and was brought in by his siblings. Unfortunately, she told him that he had to keep the oxygen cannula in, which he wasn’t a fan of.
He spent most of the morning watching mindless daytime television and picking at the hospital breakfast, which he wasn’t a fan of. He had to do a breathing treatment with some weird nebulizer machine, but he spent most of the time just sitting around.
He was on his seventh episode of a soap opera (the main character’s sister, who was also the heir to their family fortune, had just woken up from her coma), when the nurse came back.
“Tim, there’s some people here to visit you.”
Behind her, clad in face masks, were Dick and Jason. Tim sat up a little straighter in bed.
“Still kicking, Timmy, huh?” Jason ruffled his hair.
“How are you feeling?” Dick asked.
“Still sick,” Tim responded. He coughed for a moment and Dick rubbed his back until he was able to regain his composure. “Did you come to take me home?”
“Not quite yet.”
Tim looked up to see in a man by the foot of the bed. He was tall, which dark hair and in the same face masks as everyone else.
“Tim, this is Bruce, we’re going to be staying with him from now one,” Dick said.
“No more Ronnie?”
“No more Ronnie.”
“You totally missed it,” Jason chimed in. “I punched him right in the face.”
“They want to see more improvement before doctors feel clear to discharge you,” Bruce said.
“Wait,” Tim said, finally understanding. “Bruce Wayne?”
“I know, crazy, right?” Jason said as the man nodded.
“Why?” Tim asked. “Why you? Why us?”
Bruce paused and Dick spoke up, looking to make sure that the door was closed first.
“Tim figured me out months ago,” Dick sais. “He’s too smart to hide the truth from.”
“Well then,” Bruce stood there for a moment, thinking. “Jason and I met each other through the coat drive, Dick and I were working together.”
“You mean?”
“Yes,” he put his hands in his pockets. “There’s something else you all should know, Jason ans I already spoke about it, but I didn’t have the chance to tell the other two of you.
“I learned very recently that I am Damian’s biological father.”
“Who’s his mother?” Dick asked.
“A woman I don’t see anymore,” Bruce said. “I want you all to know that I see you all equally as children under my care, blood relation or not, it doesn’t matter.”
“Thank you for telling us,” Dick said to him.
Bruce nodded and then looked at Tim.
“Mind if we stay for a couple of hours?” He asked.
Tim was happy with that.
-
They left in the late afternoon after Tim finished another one of his nebulizer treatments. Dick didn’t want to leave, but there didn’t seem to be much of an advantage to staying. The younger boy needed his sleep.
When they returned to Wayne Manor, Alfred was sitting in the main living room with Damian, who was playing with blocks. Upon seeing Dick, the little boy abandoned his toys for him.
“Hi, bud,” Dick picked him up and kissed his forehead. He had to blink back nausea, he needed more medicine.
“Let me,” Alfred said, taking one of the bags from him. “Laundry I presume?”
“Most of it,” Dick said. “There’s some other stuff in there.”
“I’ll have it clean and in your room tonight.”
“You don’t have to do that, just show me to the laundry room and I’ll take care of it.”
“Master Dick, I am here to precisely do that. I believe your time would be better spent with your brothers, or Master Bruce, perhaps.”
After a moment, Dick nodded and let the older man take the bag from him. He knew that it was Alfred's job to do these sort of things, but he still didn't like it. It felt like his own responsibility.
He shoved away his unease to turn to Damian, who was very happy to have the older boy's attention. He followed the little boy back to his block creation, where Dick imagined that the stacks of wood were meant to be the walls of a castle, or maybe a creative attempt at zoo animals.
Jason stayed with him as Bruce helped Alfred carry the trash bags to the laundry room. It had felt embarrassing to carry his clothes like that at eight, and felt equally as embarrassing at fifteen.
Without the older two men in the room, for a moment it felt like the older days, back when Robin was still in a sweatshirt and Bonnie's was still serving up patty melts and the best homefries on that side of Gotham. He hoped she was doing okay. It felt odd, to be so nostalgic for a time that was so horrible. Now that he was maybe coming out the other side, Dick felt like he was supposed to be forgetting it all, shoving it in the back of his mind, but it kept creeping up on him, like his brain's screwed-up version of nostalgia.
By the time dinner came around, the medications he'd been given for his concussion had fully worn off, and he picked at Alfred's (amazing) pot roast, offset by the nausea creeping up his body. After fifteen minutes of attempting to eat the meal, which was really just pushing it around the plate, he asked to be excused to take a shower.
Bruce was a little confused, but when Dick mentioned that his head hurt, the older man was understanding and let him go.
When Dick emerged from his shower, in the bathroom connected to the bedroom, something he never thought he'd experienced in his life, there was some more medication left on the dresser with a note from Alfred, remarking that the blue pill was to help him sleep. He took it and hoped that it would help quiet the uneasy feeling in the back of his mind.
-
After dinner, Jason ran off to go see the game room, something that they'd only touched on during their tour of the house, leaving Alfred and Bruce with little Damian, who was practically covered in mushy carrots. Bruce knew that the little boy needed a bath, so he picked him up out of the highchair that Alfred had put him in earlier and began to take him down the hall toward Bruce's own bathroom. The room that they had chosen for the nursery didn't have an attached bathroom, it had been designed to be an office.
In the bathroom, Bruce set the young child on the floor as he began to run the water in the clawfoot tub. As he tested it for temperature, it occurred to him that he actually wasn't sure what temperature it was supposed to be. He either took showers so hot his skin felt like it was melting off, or showers so cold that he felt like he was at Clark's Fortress of Solitude. Damian didn't talk much, which worried Bruce a little bit, he was definitely old enough for at least a few words. Was he supposed to be saying sentences? Should he be worried? Bruce didn't know the answer, he didn't like not knowing the answer.
As the bottom of the tub filled, he also found himself worrying about the height of the water. What was too high? He eventually settled on a height, maybe a little low, honestly, and shut off the water. When he put little Damian in, it occurred to him that he didn't have any baby shampoo. In fact, the idea of baby shampoo never really occurred to him. If Bruce used his own, would it irritate his skin? He could feel himself beginning to panic, and the one thing he was sure of was that you couldn't leave a baby in a bathtub, so he took him out of the water and wrapped him in a towel. From there, he took him to the kitchen, inquired with Alfred about the soap, and Alfred told him where to find it in the boy's nursery.
From there, the actual bath itself was easier, albeit very wet. By the time it was over, Bruce's white shirt (which had been stained with the little boy's carrot mush) and black slacks were soaked. Once Damian was in a new diaper and clothes, Bruce felt relieved. As the little boy, with his baby fat-filled cheeks and off-balance walk, stumbled around the nursery, it occurred to Bruce that he had no clue what to do with him. What time was he supposed to go to bed? Did he have a special blanket or stuffed animal like so many kids did? Did he just put him in the crib and leave the room?
It wasn't that Bruce didn't have experience with children, he had saved plenty of them in the past and helped them to calm down while waiting for their parents, bt this felt fundamentally different. This was his kid, he wasn't exactly putting the kids he saved to bed at night.
He helped Damian play with some toy cars, which he raced across a little carpet that was designed to look like the bird-eye view of a cartoon town. When Alfred came by with the child's laundry and the other contents of the bag that Dick had packed, Bruce laughed at the Superman doll, that Damian immediately gravitated towards. It was, for the most part, easy. But every time that Damian lost his balance and fell down, Bruce felt his heart skip a beat. They'd chosen the room because it was carpeted, and so there was a cushion for these little falls, but that didn't stop Bruce from feeling anxious.
It had been a couple of hours since dinner when Bruce began to notice that the boy's actions were getting more sluggish, and when the little car that he liked slipped out of his grip, he burst into tears. Bruce scooped him up and began to bounce him, quietly shushing him as the boy cried. But Damian didn't want to be in his arms, instead, the child flailed in an attempt to be released. Bruce tried to get him to settle, but the boy didn't want his attention.
Bruce moved them into the rocking chair, thinking that would do something for him, but the boy's demeanor didn't change. He tried dimming the lights, giving him the toy back, humming and walking the room in circles with him in his arms, but nothing changed.
After what felt like an eternity of endless wailing, he heard the door open and turned to see Dick, who was wincing at the sound.
Bruce opened his mouth to say something, but he was interrupted by Damian, who at the sight of his older brother, began to flail toward him. Every second he wasn't in Dick's arms, he continued to cry. When Bruce handed him over, the boy latched onto Dick's neck. The older boy whispered words to the younger one that Bruce didn't hear. Bruce, feeling like he added absolutely nothing to the situation, slipped out into the hallway. He stood outside and listened as the cries disapated and were replaced by the sound of Dick reading The Velveteen Rabbit.
After fifteen minutes, Dick emerged from the room,shutting off the light behind him.
"He's out," the boy said, rubbing his own eyes with exhaustion.
"Thank you," Bruce said. "He dropped his toy and lost it."
"It probably doesn't help that it's over an hour after his bedtime."
"I didn't know."
"He goes to bed at seven fifteen," Dick said. "I make sure Tim is in bed by nine-thirty, but he falls asleep whenever. Jason is usually out by midnight."
"Thank you for letting me know."
"No problem," Dick replied yawning. "I'm going to go."
"Sleep well."
"Thanks," Dick nodded before turning to go in the direction of his bedroom.
Bruce watched him leave with a pit in his stomach.
He was on his way to his office when he ran into Alfred, who was carrying the last of Jason's laundry.
"Will you be suiting up tonight, sir?"
Bruce thought back to the bedroom and his uncontrollably crying son.
"Yes," he replied.
Alfred nodded and the pair went in thier opposite directions. As he continued down the hall, Bruce craved the feeling of standing on a Gotham city rooftop. At least he understood that.