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Dick Grayson was the worst person in the world. At least, that was what he thought as he drifted through the halls of Wayne Manor like an angry ghost.
The Memorial Day weekend gave him some time to kill. He'd been spending it with Barbara, but Bruce had guilted him into coming over.
His therapist had suggested to him once that in times of stress, he often attacked himself because it was safer than attacking the person that caused his pain. But because Dick understood that didn't mean he would stop doing it.
I failed her I failed her I failed Jason and I fail her all I do is fail the people I love
The last time he saw Stephanie, she was wearing a tank top and he saw the scars on her arms. They weren't like the angry, chaotic ones he knew were from Black Mask.
The scars Dick noticed as Steph ate peanut butter straight from the jar were neat and tidy, stacked along her forearms. When she noticed him noticing, she actually flinched.
“It's okay,” he said, the words heavy on his tongue. “I used to cut, too.”
“You…did?” she asked, voice barely above a whisper.
Dick shifted uncomfortably. “Yeah. It didn't help at all, but….for a while I cut.”
“Does anyone else know?”
“Only Wally and Babs,” he admitted.
He still felt like he failed Stephanie. To that, someone might ask if Babs or Wally had failed him because he cut, but it wasn't really about the cutting.
It was that as the first robin, he had a responsibility to all the robins after him. And with Stephanie, he shirked that responsibility. God, he was shitty.
Dick sighed. Bruce was recovering, but still trying to work. Tim was around somewhere. And Dick? Dick was so fucking tired.
By some miracle, he found his way to one of the manor's many living rooms and sank into an armchair. He tried to think calm thoughts as he cradled his head in his hands.
He did not want to see Bruce. But he was here. Why was he here?
He heard socked feet pad across the carpet, and he knew it was his little brother before he looked up. Sweet little Tim Drake, who he always tried to guide in the right direction. Who trusted in every word Bruce said too much for his own good.
“You look rough,” he remarked.
“I feel pretty rough, Tim,” Dick said. His voice was sharper than he meant it to be, but he couldn't bring himself to care.
“Are…Are you mad at me?” he asked in a small voice.
At this, Dick finally looked up. “Am I mad at you?” He repeated quietly, with his anger festering like a wound. “What do you think?”
“I know you are,” Tim admitted, looking hurt. He shifted his weight anxiously. “But I don't understand why.”
Dick stood up. Tim was one of the smartest people he knew. But when it came to understanding his own biases and shortcomings, he could be very thick. After all, he came from blue blood.
“Jason told me that Steph didn't know who you were the whole time you were dating,” Dick said, with his arms folded over his chest.
Tim winced. “Most of my friends didn't either, for a long time.”
Dick ground his teeth. He promised himself he wasn't going to yell. “That's not good, either. Do you think it's fair that in all these relationships, you have knowledge about people that they don't have about you? Do you think it's fair that you hold all the power?”
“Well, maybe not, but that's just how it has to be sometimes!” Tim defended. “I mean, Bruce is worse than me.”
“Fuckng Bruce!” Dick breathed. “He's the whole reason you think this is okay, isn't he?”
He thought of how he wanted Babs out of the field when she started, too. Babs who told him how Bruce sabotaged her every attempt to give poor Cassandra a normal life. Dick thought of the women Bruce strung along to keep up his playboy persona, who never got the serious relationship they wanted, because Bruce treated them as disposable.
“Hey, don't blame him,” Tim said defensively.
Dick thought of Stephanie, who no one ever believed in. He thought of everything she said about how Bruce treated her. He thought about how Tim treated her. He thought about the scars on her arms.
“I know you told her to quit, too,” he said, his voice deadly quiet.
“Because she didn't belong in the field!” Tim exclaimed defensively. He threw his hands up like Dick was being obtuse, like he couldn't believe he didn't get it.
Dick laughed without humor. He felt ready to explode. “Where'd you get the idea that it's okay to treat a girl that way? Was it from me? Your father? Was it Bruce? I bet it was Bruce.”
“Steph’s life was better with me in it! She said so!”
“Stephanie has been treated like shit her whole life!” Dick yelled, causing Tim to flinch. He couldn't keep his cool any longer. “But you knew what her home life was like, didn't you? She thought the way everyone treated her was normal, that she deserved it! You,” he pointed a very angry finger at Tim here, “took advantage of her pain and treated her almost as shitty as B did, which is saying something! So don't bullshit me and say you treated her well!”
Tim looked shocked at his outburst. “I,” he swallowed. “I'm sorry,” he whispered.
So Dick had finally hit a nerve. He finally accused him of something so objectively bad even he couldn't excuse it. Or maybe he just felt bad for disappointing his brother. Dick hoped it wasn't that.
“Don't apologize to me,” he said, “apologize to her.”
He sniffled. “She made it pretty clear she didn't want to see me.”
“I don't blame her, Tim.”
He swallowed. “I messed up.”
“Yeah,” Dick snapped, “you did.”
Tim looked absolutely crestfallen. He looked like he might cry.
Dick felt horrible. He told himself he wasn't going to yell, but he did. Why couldn't he do anything right?
I'm the worst I'm the worst I'm the worst, he thought. He took a deep breath, the way his therapist said he should do before he lost his temper, not after.
“I'm sorry I yelled,” he said. “You're still my brother, Tim. But I'm really disappointed in you.”
He just had time to see Tim's face crumple before he walked away. He had to walk away so he wouldn't start yelling again.
“I'm calm I'm calm I'm calm,” he whispered, as if saying it would make it true.
With a deep breath, he made his way down to the Batcave. He wanted to scream in rage and punch the wall like he did when he was a kid. But he was a grown up, now. The oldest child. He had to be more responsible.
Bruce, whose leg was in a cast up to the knee, was sipping coffee at the Batcomputer. The screen wasn't open to a file, or anything. Instead, it showed the green Oracle symbol.
“She's mad at me again,” he muttered without looking up.
Lately, Barbara had a new hobby: locking Bruce out of his own computer. Ragebaiting, as the youth would say. Her favorite activity was letting him in for a moment, and then locking him out again.
Babs had felt horrible about the way she overlooked Stephanie. She considered what happened to her to be her fault. Her failure. Maybe tormenting Bruce was a form of penance to her.
“Me too,” Dick muttered.
At this, Bruce looked up with a somewhat amused expression. “Trouble in paradise?”
“No, you fucking-she’s not mad me!” Dick exclaimed. “I'm mad at you, too!”
Bruce looked unimpressed. His voice hardened, into a stubborn tone. “You sound like a teenager.”
Dick didn't care enough to bring up his dismissal of his anger. He was far too furious with his father.
“This is your fault!”
Bruce raised an eyebrow. “What's my fault?”
“You run around with those models and you break their hearts and you make Tim think it's okay to treat women like they're disposable!”
“No, I don't!” Bruce exclaimed. “You know why I have to keep a cover-”
“Find a better cover!” Dick screamed. “Stop treating women like that!”
“Like what?” Bruce cried. “I treat them the same as everyone else!”
“No you don't!” Dick exploded, pacing in a doomed attempt to keep his temper in check. “I know you didn't give Steph her own suit! Do you know how uncomfortable it made her to wear Tim’s old one?”
“If she told you that, she's lying!” Bruce shot back. “I did give her own suit!”
“Yeah, after she ripped the seams on Tim's!”
“She was reckless and emotional! She wanted to kill Cluemaster!”
“And I wanted to kill Tony Zucco!” Dick shouted. “That's how I became Robin!”
“This was different!”
“Why? Because she's a girl?”
“Because she was too unskilled to be out in the field!”
“That's not what I thought when we worked together!”
“Well, you wouldn't know because you only met her once!”
“You are so full of shit!” Dick exploded. “You used her, and then you threw her away! Aren't you at all ashamed?!”
“I don't have anything to be ashamed of!” He shouted, surely lying to himself.
Dick almost laughed. “You know, Babs felt so fucking bad for not giving Steph enough support, but she didn't treat her half as bad you did! And you, you don't even feel a little bad! Do you know how much that blows my mind?”
“Enough with the drama, Dick!”
“You know what your problem is, Bruce? You're a control freak! And when you can't control someone, you lie to yourself about them so you can justify treating them like shit!”
Words were pouring from his mouth like blood from an open wound, and he didn't care. He was messy, spilling all over the floor, and he didn't care.
“I am so sick of cleaning up your messes!” Dick spat. “Every time you fuck up with a Robin, I have to go comfort them and convince them you didn't mean it, that you do care! And I can't even say that to Stephanie, because it would be a lie!”
Bruce got up suddenly, not even bothering with his crutch. He had reached his limit. “GET OUT!” he bellowed, pointing to the exit.
“NO!” Dick yelled, hoping his leg hurt. "JASON HAD THE RIGHT IDEA, TAKING HER IN AND STAYING AWAY FROM YOU!!”
“JASON HAS BECOME SOMEONE I DON’T RECOGNIZE!!”
“CUT THE BULLSHIT! IF YOUR PARENTS WERE ALIVE, THEY WOULD BE FUCKING ASHAMED OF YOU!”
“DON’T YOU EVER-”
“FORGET IT!” Dick screamed. “I’M ALREADY LEAVING!”
But he didn't leave, not exactly. He left the Batcave, but not the manor. He went up to the family wing, which had once been his home. He used to cartwheel through these walls on bare feet.
He passed Bruce's room, with the bed he used to crawl into when he had nightmares. It felt like forever ago and yesterday at the same time. He passed Tim’s room, and when he paused, he heard muffled crying.
God, he made his little brother cry. Dick hated himself. He wanted to apologize, despite not really having done anything wrong. He made his feet keep moving until he got to his childhood bedroom.
He sat on his bed. The air felt heavy. He could go to Barbara's again, or back home to Bludhaven. But he didn't think he should drive when he was so emotional.
He just needed a good cry, so he didn't break down on the road. He just wanted to go back to a time when life was simple, when his parents were alive and the circus was his home.
There was a lump in his throat.
“Kali Sara, give me strength,” Dick whispered. Then the dam broke and he surrendered to his tears.