Chapter Text
Heroes aren't born, they're made.
R.K. Davenport
Bruce stood in the alley, a dark shadow sucking out all light. The criminals on the ground got up and ran away, frightened. On the other hand, the little boy looked at him defiantly, with no trace of fear.
He should have.
"What are you doing here?" he growled as his heart slowed.
He'd been anxious ever since he'd seen Dick's empty room, fearing that somehow the killer of his parents had broken into the manor.
It wasn't possible, not with the defenses he'd installed, but the fear was still there, for weeks. He hadn't expected to attach himself so much to the boy.
It was a temporary arrangement until social services found a reliable foster family. Bruce was only supposed to protect him until the police – or himself – found whoever was responsible for the Graysons' deaths.
And since they shared the same pain, it shouldn't have surprised him that Dick had run away from home in a hooded jacket and a leotard.
This was to pursue the alleged perpetrator of the Graysons' deaths.
The difference was that Bruce was an adult (if one could consider oneself an adult at twenty-four) and had been trained.
Dick was a nine year old. He should have been in bed hours ago.
“Isn't it obvious? I'm looking for the bad guys,” was the boy's reply, full of defiance toward the terror of Gotham.
“You are too young for this.”
“I know what I'm doing.“
"Do you? They would have killed you,” Batman reminded him. Dick was outnumbered, and Gotham's thugs had no qualms about killing, not even when it came to children.
Bruce knew it, he'd seen it with his own eyes. Dick wouldn't be another corpse abandoned in the putrid alleys of the city, not if he could have avoided it.
“I had everything under control.”
“They were armed. And you don't even have adequate protection,” he said, frowning at the boy's leotard.
It was autumn, it was cold, and he wasn't even wearing pants. He would freeze like this.
A snort, "I've got everything I need."
“You only have one leotard. And bare legs. Do you know what could happen if they hit you there? You may have a severed artery. “
"They won't hit me."
“The men you seek are dangerous.”
Dick clenched his fists. “You think I don't know? My parents' killer is one of them. I will find him. "
Bruce stiffened. He could remember himself at that age, screaming at Alfred the way Dick was screaming at him now. Bruce has promised to avenge his parents himself if no one else would.
At the time, Alfred had been more sensible and had dissuaded him. Momentarily. It was impossible to govern a nature like his.
Now Bruce saw another traumatized child before him. A child who should be taken care of. He opened his mouth to speak when a sudden mist arose from one of the grates and started to swirl around them.
Instinctively, Batman wrapped his cloak around Dick and silenced the boy's protests. "Don't move."
It came out more aggressively than he intended. However, he had only seen such a mist once when he accompanied Diana on one of her quests.
Without a doubt, that was the Mist. And it had to be controlled by a witch.
"How curious."
A woman with long black hair appeared in front of them, dressed in a dark tunic and with bloodshot eyes.
He tightened his grip on Dick.
"You are a special mortal, aren't you? You see me," the witch said, watching him closely.
It was the same thing Diana had said. According to her, Bruce was one of those rare mortals that could see beyond the Mist, even better than the demigods. No one knew why it was possible, but now it was unexpectedly valuable.
"What do you want?"
"Isn't it obvious? I'm here to finish my job," she replied, looking at Dick.
Batman stood perfectly still as Dick yelled, "You did it! You killed my parents."
Heedless of the accusation, the woman said coldly, “You should have died. Not them.”
"W-what?"
"Would you like me to explain it better? My target has always been you. Those mortals got in the way."
Batman looked first at her, then at Dick. It didn't take many investigative skills to figure out what it meant.
Dick was a demigod.
(The gods still live and keep the same bad habits as they once did, Diana once told him, telling him about her new sister. The gods still walked among humans, had affairs with them, and ruined their lives.)
"Whatever grudges you have, the boy has nothing to do with them," Bruce barked harshly. Whoever Dick's divine parent was, that was the one who had been wrong. Not Dick, or any of the other children whose only misfortune was being born to immortal parents.
Too bad that such a simple concept was difficult to get into the head of monsters or minor gods with a thousand-year-old grudge.
It was easier to blame the demigods, because they were mortal. No matter how powerful they were, they could die, unlike their divine parents.
A momentary satisfaction, which would not even trigger any reaction from the god they hated.
They rarely cared for their children.
(He remembered Diana's look when she said, "Zeus only recognized me because I'm strong. He will do the same with Donna when she starts her training." There was no recrimination. It was a fact: if you wanted the attention of your parents, you had to do something to deserve it. The concept made Bruce sick just thinking about it.)
The woman was unmoved. “The blood in his veins condemned him.”
"He's not at fault."
“Neither was I, but his mother didn't care. “
Dick was shaking now. He croaked softly, “Batman…”
Bruce motioned for Dick to shut up, squeezing him tighter. Under normal circumstances, he wouldn't hesitate to fight her. It wasn't the first time he'd come face to face with magical beings or monsters, but Dick was with him. He couldn't risk his life.
All Bruce could do was run away and get Dick to safety.
“Hold on to me," he grunted. He raised his arm and fired the grappling hook at the nearest building. They stood up, but he heard her laugh, “This is just the beginning. I will have the boy's life. No matter how hard you try to run away from me, I know who you are, Bruce Wayne. ”
It was as if time had stopped. Of course she knew who he was. It was ridiculous to hope otherwise.
"I'll have to ask Zatanna for a favor," he thought absently.
He almost wished the mob had been involved in this whole mess. At least he would have to deal with people he could put in prison.
How did you permanently get rid of a being from Greek mythology?
You couldn't.
"Bruce?"
He jumped up at the sound of Dick's voice. They were on a roof, they could be attacked at any moment by the witch, but he was looking at him with those big, fearful eyes.
Dick needed him.
"Are you...are you Bruce?”
It would be wise to lie. The children were unable to keep a secret. Especially children with ADHD and trouble concentrating.
(Especially the children he feared wouldn't stay.)
Against all logic, he found that he didn't want to lie to the boy. Dick deserved the truth.
"Yes, I am."
A shaky breath, “That woman…she killed my parents?”
"She did."
“Because I…I’m a demigod?”
Bruce felt a sharp pain in his chest. He knew what Dick really meant. It was the same question he had asked himself years ago, in the rain in an alley like this.
Did they die because of me?
"No," he answered. The same thing Alfred told him and had been saying to him for years. You are not responsible for the actions of others.
That woman had decided to hurt the Graysons for her own personal revenge. Dick was a victim of old grievances he could not understand.
“You don't know that,” he accused.
"Dick, she's a terrible person, and she made that choice. You are not responsible for it, do you understand? “
Dick shook his head. “But she did it because she hated me, because I...I'm a demigod, and...and...”
He couldn't hold back the tears anymore, and sobbed in Batman's arms. The man gave him reassuring caresses, but he felt just as lost.
Batman returned to the cave with Dick crying in his arms. There hadn't been a delicate way to tell the kid that he wasn't a mortal.
The most difficult thing to digest was that his mother wasn't actually his biological mother.
Not that that meant anything: Mary Grayson loved Dick with every fiber of her being, until her last breath.
It didn't matter if they weren't related by blood. She was his mother.
The pain of mourning was too recent, too raw. Additionally, the discovery of abandonment.
Even an adult would have had trouble handling it, let alone a child that young.
Alfred came towards him. "Master, what…"
"He knows," Bruce said, running a reassuring hand over Dick's head.
The butler's face lit up with understanding. He nodded, grimly, "How did it happen?"
"We were attacked by a witch."
"She killed my parents," Dick cried, his face in the crook of Bruce's neck.
"It's my fault. She did it because I'm a demigod."
At that, Alfred's eyes widened. He murmured a soft oh, pity clear in his features.
He couldn't see past the Mist like Bruce did. However, he had grown up in an English college where Greek tragedies were taught.
The child in Batman's arms could die young, or have an unhappy life. All because of his mother.
"Dick, it wasn't your fault."
"I don't believe you!"
Bruce was at a total loss. He didn't know what to do. Dick needed comfort. He needed to understand more about himself, and accept what he was.
Above all, he had to learn not to blame himself for something beyond his control.
Bruce was unable to give him any of this.
Luckily, he knew someone who was more familiar with situations like this.
Immediately after taking Dick back to his room, Bruce called Diana.
Luckily, the woman answered him right away.
"Batman? Did something happen? League business?"
He hesitated, his hands resting on the computer keyboard.
"I'm not calling on League business," he said slowly.
He should have called Zatanna first to have magical defenses put up around the Manor. The witch could attack anyone at any moment.
His senses were on high alert. He felt like a caged animal.
What if Diana advised him to send Dick to that demigod camp she'd told him about?
Bruce didn't feel comfortable with the idea of leaving him, Dick might consider it another abandonment and ...
Diana's voice brought him back to reality. "If you have nothing to tell me, I..."
"Dick is a demigod," Bruce blurted out.
“The boy I took in. He's like you.”
"Are you sure?" she asked.
"He was attacked by a witch tonight."
"Who?"
"I'm not sure. She said his mother ruined her life."
"It doesn't narrow it down much."
"I know," he said, rubbing his eyes. He had conducted research and had narrowed it down to three names: Medea, Circe and Lamia.
This also left two possibilities as to who Dick's mother goddess was, and he didn't know which was worse, Hecate or Aphrodite.
It would be a problem later.
"Dick didn't take it well. He feels guilty about his parents' death and I…I don't know what to do."
"The mighty Batman who doesn't know what to do? Then it must be serious," she commented sarcastically.
"Diana…"
"I'm coming to the Manor in two days. I might bring Donna too. It would do her no harm to meet another child like her."
Another demigod. Another abandoned child.
"See you then. And Diana…thank you."
Diana smiled, and he felt his chest tighten.