(Edited with Grammarly on 8/26/2026)
Dick knew pain. Knew it intrinsically in his soul. From when he was forced to sit back and watch his parents' death, to the many years of repeated drills so finely tuned to push him to his very limits at every turn, to the multiple times he'd been thrown through brick buildings or got hit so hard that all he could see was stars for days. So in simplest terms, pain was no stranger to him.
But this pain...this one felt different.
"Well…?" Barbara looked up, those green eyes silently coaxing an answer from him. "What do you think? How do I look?"
She always looked amazing. No matter if she wore her costume, that pair of simple baggy sweatpants, or even her usual jeans. Hell, she could probably even easily pull off wearing a potato sack.
Standing before him, the redhead wore a light green khaki knit dress that almost perfectly hugged her figure while also keeping it modest. It had a high collar with long sleeves that puffed out to twin cuffs on either side before ending right above her ankles. Heavy high-heeled boots danced back and forth as she shuffled in place.
Her copper-colored hair was tied up in a high ponytail, allowing it to sway as she moved from side to side.
"I think it looks okay."
It was the understatement of the century, but what else could he say? That she looked amazing? Beautiful? Gorgeous? Like hell he could ever even muster up the courage to say that to her; if that was the case, then he would've been in a better position to actually confess to her.
"Hmm...What about you, Alfred?"
Just out of view of the tri-fold mirror was a well-groomed gentleman who positively oozed a refined air about him. His suit was crisp and freshly ironed, with not a single wrinkle visible, along with these bright white gloves that held what appeared to be a ball of yarn holding a whole bunch of needles sticking at all angles.
"I must say, Miss, you present an absolutely breathtaking sight." Alfred circled just out of view from the mirror, examining her outfit with those stern but kind blue eyes. "That scoundrel won't know what hit him. I wasn't too sure about cinching the dress so tightly, but I will gladly eat my own words. The blouse can be used a different day. You're already pretty tall to begin with, but those high-heeled boots really send a particular message. You're powerful, you're secure, and there's nothing anyone could ever do or say to change that."
"…" Barbara nodded vigorously as the praise came raining down on her, a small proud smile on full display. It made her look even more beautiful, and that fact made Dick feel like he wanted to hurl. Why was she feeling so proud? Why was she putting this much effort into looking good for some guy who didn't deserve it? Not only was he ugly on the outside, but he'd shown how ugly he was during the Soiree. So why? "Thank you, Alfred...Do you think I should wear some jewelry? Nothing too gaudy but maybe some earrings or something?"
"There's hardly any outfit that can't be further enhanced with jewelry...But I do understand what you're saying; people with no taste can easily ruin an ensemble. Baseline, simple stud earrings and a nice pearl necklace would do...But you could definitely get away with some neutral dangle earrings. I do believe I have a catalogue around here...Where is that thing…?"
"I can't ask that of you guys." The redhead shook her head, holding out a hand to forestall him from going anywhere. "Besides, I got some at home...What about rings? I got this simple band and some with some exotic stones."
"What color are they?" Alfred didn't argue with her and instead flowed back into the conversation as easily as could be. "If it's a similar shade as your dress, then green, but I would make sure it's a slightly brighter shade. Just to really, really draw the eye. Same with any jewels you plan to wear. Or maybe you could swap, have a clear diamond on your ears and necklace."
"What about red?"
"Maybe with the blouse it could work...We do have a few ruby rings around that you can model with; I'll be right back." And before she could open her mouth to forestall the man once more, he turned to the door, far more energy in his steps despite him being in his twilight years. Disappearing out into the hallway in just a mere blink, leaving the two of them in sudden silence.
Dick sat slouched over on a padded bench, completely uncaring of the clearly expensive bright red cloth over atop its form. His knee bounced repeatedly, foot silently tapping away as the anxiety grew from within him. He opened his mouth once, twice, and thrice before shutting it uselessly in the end.
How could he say what he wanted without coming across as a complete jerk? Like Albert...But from how excited she was, maybe that was the path forward? If he could make the redhead so angry with him that she wouldn't stop ranting about him for over a month, then would she dress up like this for him? Demand a date from him?
But then that idea was quickly scrubbed from his mind.
Firstly, he just couldn't go through something like that. Purposefully trying to make her angry? Yeah, she would not only see right through his attempt but also tear him a new one. And maybe even be a bit rougher during their sparring sessions as well.
Beyond that, he didn't want to have to play games to get the redhead to see him as a potential partner. Was it too much for him to want to be liked for who he was?
"You're awfully quiet."
Barbara spoke up for what felt like an eternity, and despite his dour mood, he hated how sharply his head snapped up. Just fast enough to see her looking at him over her shoulder, a streak of evening sun leaking through the curtains. Instantly, that long red hair of hers seemed to alight. Orange flames flickering across her form, highlighting the small freckles scattered across her nose. Those bright greens felt as though they'd taken on an emerald glow.
He could feel it then, his heart thumping wildly, heat rushing to his cheeks, and his lungs beginning to seize as once. Why was she so beautiful? Why was she putting in so much effort for a guy who hurt her so badly?
All those questions swirled in his head, making the next words spluttering out of his mouth impossible to hold back.
"Just...just surprised is all."
"Surprised? About what?"
Even the way she furrowed her brow was enough to cause his heart to flutter.
"Just...just like how pretty you are." His mind was almost completely blowing fumes at this point, but there was still some part of him that realized something rather concerning. Did, did he just insinuate that she wasn't always pretty? "I didn't mean it like you're only pretty now because that's not true-I mean you are pretty now, but you're like really, really pretty now-"
Deep, hearty laughter filled the room. Her shoulders shook as she tried and failed to hold them back. It instantly felt like someone had thrown a bucket of ice-cold water on him. Soaking through his clothes, flesh, and bones. Nearly shocking his system from just how turbulent everything was.
"I'm-" Barbara tried to speak, but more laughter spilled from her lips. Waving her hands around in a calming gesture, she continued with only a few hiccups and a bright smile. "I'm-I'm not laughing at you. Well, not really. I swear! It's sweet, and I appreciate it...It just honestly made me feel like I had a younger brother right then, being forced to give me a compliment-"
But whatever rambling she'd fallen into, all of it seemed to peter out into mere background noise. Leaving him feeling like a pit had opened up from within his gut, the chasm yawning open, ready to swallow him whole.
'A brother…' It struck at some innermost part of himself, a softer fragment wrapped tightly in heavy armor, and despite the formidable defense, it wasn't enough. A soft cracking sound echoed through his mind, filling his mouth with the taste of bile. 'A younger brother…'
Was- was the world growing a bit foggy?
He took the chance to stealthily rub his eyes, ignoring the small droplets clinging firmly to his skin.
"Well," He couldn't stay there any longer, as even that simple word was almost enough to cause the frog in his throat to come jumping out. But he pushed through, clamping those iron shackles tighter around himself. Trying to constrict the tight feeling in his chest with nothing but his iron will. His voice came out blander than he wanted, but he was beyond caring at that point. Standing to his feet, he quickly faced away from the mirrors just in case. "I'll leave you to it...have fun at your date."
"It's not a date."
Maybe he would've felt something at the sharp rebuttal- happiness or relief but to him, even through the fog, it felt like a lie. If it wasn't a date, then why go through all this effort? But in the end, why should he care?
She'd made her feelings about him more than clear enough.
And that fact made him feel so hollow that it was almost like he could feel a hole opening up in him. Growing in size as it slowly filled his body with cold.
Weaving out of the way of the visibly confused old man, he skulked out of the room without even a glance back. The dark corridors seemed to mirror his darkening mood, with shadows clawing forward. Bending to cling to his form.
He allowed his feet to carry him to... well, wherever was farthest from that damned room. Away from the joyful and giddy giggles of someone he'd...someone he'd thought he loved for years. Someone he thought could see him as something more than a younger brother.
It wasn't until the smell of heavy antiseptic spray and old sweat filled his nose that he finally grappled himself out of that downward spiral. He found himself in a familiar, pitch-black room. So familiar, in fact, that his hand paused before it touched the light switch right beside him, and instead, he walked into the darkness without a second thought.
He didn't need sight in this room. Not when he lifted a foot just above the dumbbell left behind, nor when he swerved out of the way of the bench, not even when using a leg to force some ropes down and bending down just low enough to find himself almost bouncing on an old canvas floor.
Dick was still for but a moment, feeling all those rampant emotions coursing through his veins like molten lava, feeling his tightly wound control slip just enough for the two halves of his heart to spread with the screeching of an old rusty metallic hinge.
Before he moved suddenly. Muscles bulging as one as he fell into a steady but mindless kata. Arms waving in complex patterns, legs swaying in between an imaginary foe's defenses and knife hands cutting forward with a liquid grace. Years upon years of practice came together in that moment, his movements picking up without losing even a hint of tempo.
That was, until a flash of those bland but piercing muddy brown eyes appeared in the darkness. Following that, a pale face only a mother could love formed. That long nose, hollowed cheeks, shaggy brown hair, and crooked teeth. And unlike the usual blank but polite expression he remembered, a smug grin stretched across its features.
Something within him snapped, and all that fury slipped through his shaky control.
Dropping low, a leg snapped out as fast as a viper before being followed up with an overhead strike that made him resemble that of a scorpion. His two worlds collided, mixing together into a furious storm. Flips and kicks, elbows coming in at all angles and massive heel strikes that slammed loudly into the mat below. Fists hammered through his ever-elusive ghostly assailant.
But somehow, those movements were starting to feel...restricting. As if he knew there was something more he could be doing. More he could accomplish, and so, with a mental click, those tightly bound restraints of discipline around his form loosened. Not a lot, just a mere hair, but even that was enough. His body, already a blur of movement, burst forward with an influx of ferocity.
It was impossible to stop now; no, it more felt like an affront to stop. To cease the endless barrage, to allow this sudden bit of freedom to slip away from his fingers.
He didn't stop when his body was drenched in sweat, didn't stop when the canvas beneath his feet was beginning to send him higher and higher into the air with every heavy stomp, nor even when his body began to ache.
No, what stopped him was something far more insidious.
Just as he bunched his muscles to leap high into the air, wanting to practice a rather stupid but probably effective move, a sudden flash of light nearly blinded him.
Squinting his eyes shut under the new torture device, he glanced out through tiny gaps between his fingers. The figure was a bit blurry, from the stinging droplets of sweat rolling into his eyes and nothing else he was willing to admit to.
The figure was familiar, large enough to nearly take up the entire doorframe; their outlined arm reached over to where he knew the light switch was.
But even through his blurry vision, those piercing blue eyes were impossible for him not to recognize.
Suddenly, Dick could feel himself straighten to attention despite his fragile attempt to seem innocent.
"He-" He coughed all of a sudden, only now realizing how dry his mouth was. Swallowing hard, the teen continued. "What do you want?"
Maybe it came out a bit more biting than he wanted, but at the end of the day, he came here to be alone. Not to be lectured or something.
Instead of speaking, the large man, dressed in what seemed to be an old and ratty training gi and a pitch-black rash guard, simply stepped forward. Eating up the distance between them with a relaxed but graceful gait. Smoothly flowing over the equipment left haphazardly, he soon slipped between the ropes of the small arena.
Soon, he could do nothing but look up at the man. The embodiment of all his own insecurities given physical form. Bruce was handsome, and everyone in Gotham knew it. From the chiseled jaw to the wide chest and the height that just seemed to allow him to loom over everyone around him.
'I bet he never has to worry about being called a 'brother'…' He shook that thought away just as quickly as it came; the man was complicated, and so were his relationships. Something Dick frankly did not envy about the man. But that left a very bitter question to peek its head out from the shadows. It's whiny, nasal voice, nearly enough to cause a shiver to run down his spine. 'But-but if I looked like him, would I really be in this situation?'
But even that felt hollow. Nelson wasn't anywhere near his level of looks, so it couldn't be because of that. So what was it that made Barbara just so infatuated with him?
"At your level," Bruce's low voice broke him from his downward spiral, almost making him jump in place. Snapping his gaze back up, he locked gazes with the man. There was no pity in those eyes, which he was more than glad for, only that same assessing look the man always had. "A live sparring partner is better than shadow boxing."
With that, the large man was done speaking and dropped into a basic fighting stance. Knees apart and slightly bent, torso turned sideways with one massive hand held like a shield while his other arm rose higher.
Dick paused; he knew his chances against the man were almost... okay, were completely zero. But that wasn't the point here. Despite him being so vastly outstripped, the man wasn't unnecessarily cruel. Sparing wasn't about beating someone down completely; it was meant to provide opportunities to hammer home half-remembered katas and improvisation skills.
He knew his loss was inevitable, but in that moment, he didn't really care. A small, barely visible grin crossed his features before he dashed forward.
All that excess energy finally being provided an outlet, and for a split instance, the image of Nelson wobbled into place before fading away into nothingness. Further igniting that flame from within. Letting out a cry, he stomped once and used the canvas to springboard him high into the air. And instead of an aerial kick, something else came to mind.
'If one knee is pretty devastating...then what about two?'
***
"Damn kid," A familiar but somewhat teasing voice welcomed Albert the very moment he pushed open that simple wooden door. Hearing the same bell ring over his head, he couldn't help but allow his shoulders to slump. From the nice, toasty temperature, to the pleasant smell of freshly brewed coffee and some kind of pastry that tried to crawl up his nose and make a home for itself, to even the soft jazz music playing in the background. All of it came together to say he could set down his burdens. Take off his shoes and take a load off for as long as he was in this place. "Do you remember what color?"
"What?"
"Of the car that hit you!" Jeremiah grinned widely. Not like a gentleman or like he had kids and grandkids. Or even like he wasn't an old man with a head full of gray hair. No, it was the smile of a rogue. It seemed mischief truly knew no age. And from how thoroughly satisfied he looked while rubbing a mug sparkling clean, he actually expected to receive some form of applause.
"Funny." Not even his deadpan response was enough to get rid of the old man's good mood. Good for him. "So, what's with the music?"
"Oh? You like it?" The owner of Coffee Stains nodded, that same grin growing wider until it nearly split his face in twain. "Yeah, someone left a suggestion, and I can't say I don't like it. Dusted off one of my record players and bought a bunch of them. Did you know there's a vintage record store about what? A few blocks from here? Got completely hooked. They have some classic rock, some jazz, classical music, and even this swanky folk rock."
"Got any heavy rock back there?"
"…" The pause was louder than any real rebuttal required, and combine that with those weighty, judgmental eyes narrowing into slits, he felt like he'd been thrown under a microscope. "Who wants to be screamed at first thing in the morning?"
"Fair point...But since we're on the screaming topic…"
"Uh-oh." Jeremiah looked him over once before setting down his mug. "I know that look. What? You got some lady troubles? Again? Who is it this time? We really, really have to talk about how you talk to women; I get it. You're young and inexperienced, but really a lot of this trouble can be negated just by-"
The bell ringing behind them caused the speech winding up to suddenly get stuck in his throat. At least that's what it sounded like to Albert. And even before he turned around, he already had a pretty good idea who it was going to be.
But once he did turn, he too felt a lump form in his throat. There, standing in the doorway, was an extremely striking figure. Standing well over six feet tall, they loomed over them. She wore a long-sleeved knit dress that seemed to hug her athletic figure, ending just past her knees, where a pair of black high-heeled boots looked to be responsible for her sudden height increase.
Barbara smiled, those emerald green eyes flicking over him for but a moment before sliding off and over his head to the old man.
"Good morning, Mr. Jeremiah!" She waved a well-manicured hand his way, stepping into the building with the sound of heels clicking across the floor.
"Good morning to you too, Ms. Gordon." Unlike the roguish grin from just a moment ago, the smile on the gentleman's face was warm and doting. Like he was welcoming a favored granddaughter. "I must say, you look very beautiful today, like one of those ol'timey movie actresses. What seems to be the special occasion?"
"Oh, you charmer, you!" She did blush a bit, obviously very proud. And the teen couldn't really blame her. The redhead did look rather stunning, but the outfit itself wasn't doing the heavy lifting there. Just looking at her was almost enough to cause that heart of his to go thumping, if only the cold and vicious hand of his self-control wasn't there to squeeze the burgeoning swell of emotion. "But there's no special occasion, just meeting someone for some coffee...Are you ready, Albert?"
At that, the smile on Jeremiah's face grew a bit stiff. Eyes darting between the two of them- no, it was more like he was silently taking in Albert's hastily thrown-together outfit and back over to Barbara's. It happened multiple times, in fact, enough to cause his own cheeks to slightly redden.
How was he supposed to know to dress up? It was just supposed to be coffee and a conversation; there'd been nothing even alluding to the fact that he was supposed to actually put effort into his attire.
'One point to you.'
It had been his own fault there, and this little mistake was enough for him to lose the first exchange. Unwittingly ceding the tempo in her favor. Nodding silently, he tried to ignore the steady glare being burned into his back. But he couldn't focus on that now; all his focus was on trying to figure out some way to grapple some control back.
Watching her take a table, he slid into the chair across from her. Those tables were never very large, making the space between them barely even an arm's length away. But if bothered, the redhead didn't show it.
Letting out a small, glossy smile, she began. Those glimmering emerald eyes raked over his ratty sweat jacket.
"Good morning, Albert. You're looking well."
A lie or maybe a jab, but he allowed it to slide off of him either way. If she wanted a little bit of preamble before they got into the meat of the conversation, then so be it.
Leaning forward, he tried to take up as much space as possible without completely slumping over. Getting close enough that she would have no choice but to scoot back some.
"Good morning to you as well, and I can say the same about you. How has life been treating you?"
"Pretty well, actually." She did the exact opposite and instead leaned in closer as well. Her warm breath tickled his cheek, nearly enough for him to reel back from the sudden closeness, but he held firm. A chicken race, then. "Just been busy with school and just enjoying life, how about you?"
"Mostly just work." He was off-balance, that much he could tell. And it didn't seem like she would allow him the chance to regather his thoughts about him. "Nothing all that interesting."
"Uh-huh." The redhead obviously didn't believe a single word he said, especially given their phone call just a day ago. And instead of following up, she just let the silence hang. Those hard green eyes were trying their best to burn a hole through him, as though trying to nudge him to keep on going.
It was a very familiar move.
Instead of allowing the crushing, almost awkward air to break him, Albert took that time to focus. To calm his racing heart, to allow the situation to lose all color and allow him to look at things from the perspective of an outsider.
This wasn't how he expected things to go. From how she sounded on the phone, he'd kind of expected to get screamed at, a drink splashed in his face, and to see a redhead stomping out of the store in a huff. At least a frown or scowl. He hadn't expected this composure.
'No, that's not right.'
Looking back, small ticks seeped through. Her brown eyes furrowed slightly, that small smile losing its curve, and her hands were hidden underneath the table, but he could tell they were clenching and unclenching from the way the muscles on her shoulders seemed to flex and relax at random. Even the slight clenching of her jaw and a vein slowly becoming more visible on her temple. But more telling, it was how, despite her seemingly warm expression, it never quite seemed to reach her eyes.
Yeah, she was still angry. Very, very angry. And it only seemed to grow with every passing moment he was in her presence.
The silence would get to her first, he knew.
He could see it then. Two clear paths etching themselves into the world before him. He could stand his ground here, let her crack and recover a bit of his lost ground. But there was a cost to that. One very close to himself. Just out of the corner of his eye, he noticed the old man trying to look busy. Trying to pretend like he wasn't listening, with ears open wide.
Barbara had gotten close to Jeremiah, close enough that he apparently held a lot more warmth for the girl than him. She probably reminded the old man of his granddaughters or something, so any slight against the redhead might have his own relationship with Jeremiah take a sudden but downward shift.
The gentleman was no fool, and with his own experience he could probably also tell what the redhead wanted as well. Probably lived through a very similar experience as well.
So in that case, was his own pride worth the friendship with the coffee shop owner?
The other path...the other path would require him to retreat first. A more human side of him, the part of himself that echoed out between two of his closest friends in the world. A promise he made to himself to be better.
But now here was an actual chance to take a step forward in the idea of that promise, and he was already thinking of turning away from it.
No, it was more than that. Everything had been wrong, even trying to balance things in such a transactional way...Frankly, it reminded him of how Keegan thought.
It was a bitter pill to take, to realize that his thinking process was no different from that of a monster like him.
He knew what Barbara wanted. He'd always known on some level.
That scene played back in his head many times throughout many sleepless nights.
From the very beginning, he could've shut things down before it got to this point. Could've outright rejected her at the start, could've not engaged with her when she was trying to wheedle information out of him. Could've told her to kick rocks when she asked him to go to the Soiree...And most importantly, he could've gone about things differently-
'No.'
There he went again, trying to look at things from a different angle. He'd manipulated her. That was the ugly truth. Played her like a fiddle and set everything up to benefit himself the most at the moment.
It was an inhuman way to do someone.
And for once, he took a metaphorical step back. No longer so laser-focused on the minor ticks, he instead took in the entirety of her.
Barbara was a person. A human made of flesh and blood like him, so how would anyone feel if they were essentially called a gold-digging whore by their date?
They would be hurt. Like someone nicked their heart with a blade before spitting in the wound. And that hurt would be wrapped in anger, but the core emotion would still be present.
Suddenly, he allowed the tension to ease out of him. That barrier around him began to wane, and for the first time ever, he didn't try to hide behind wordplay with Barbara. Besides, she'd help him...well, Malaya, so this much was the least he-
No, that wasn't right either. Even without that, this was the least he could do.
"Barbara." Right as she looked ready to pop, he spoke up. He looked her dead in the eyes, trying to convey his every word. "I'm sorry."
At first, all that anger froze in place. Her calm features blended into a blank mask that almost heralded a great storm. He tried, really tried not to read deeper into the expression. At least for this conversation, he would take things at face value.
"For what?"
Her voice was frosty, and if he didn't think he needed to step carefully before, now was the time to do so. She just didn't want him to apologize just to apologize; those never really counted anyway. Just a way for people to socially weasel out of the situation.
"I'm sorry for insinuating that you…" He knew the words he wanted to say, could vividly remember his own lips spilling out such vile venom, but now here he was struggling to repeat them. Might as well get it all out all at once. "I'm sorry for blowing up at you and throwing around the wild suggestion that you were acting untoward to Richard Grayson, for suggesting that you two would disappear together...and for saying that you were doing it all to make sure you could get a portion of Wayne's billions. And for bringing up your father as well."
There, he said it. And each word felt like ash in his mouth. And now that he'd said it all aloud, it honestly made him want to crawl into a hole somewhere in shame. It was one thing to sit up late at night and see that scene again and again, the echo of his own voice saying such vile things. But it was something else entirely, actually hearing himself say them again.
"It's Dick." Her frosty expression only held up for a few more moments before, mirroring him, the redhead deflated suddenly. All that anger simmering just beneath the surface slowly ebbed away, leaving an exhaustion that met his own. Her response hadn't been fully conscious, almost like a reflex, and if she noticed it, she didn't show it. Crossing her arms, she looked down at the table, deep in thought. Before something crossed her face and she looked up suddenly. "Thank you, really. I thought this was going to be a whole thing and...No, never mind. I'm not blameless either. I shouldn't have slapped you. No matter what you said, I took things over the line. I could've just walked away, could've just kept things verbal, but I allowed myself to take the situation to the next level. And for that, I am sorry."