[ Dick's been thinking, on his way over to the tower, about how to approach this. He has no idea what state Bruce might be in at this point, if the recent developments with Damian have had any time to settle or if it's just send Bruce into an inward spiral, but in the end he ultimately decides to come to the door like a more or less normal visitor. He'll even knock, mostly out of habit, though he knows it's not necessary, and he acknowledges as much when he peers up at the building, at whatever cameras Bruce has on the door.
He's in the suit. That was less a deliberate choice and just a coincidence, he decided to come straight here rather than stopping to change. ]
Hey. Mind if I come in?
[ It seems like the best way to start. He'll wait for any kind of response for what he considers an appropriate length of time for a brooding Bruce to decide whether or not he wants to be reasonable. But hopefully he knows that Dick isn't going to be easily discouraged. If not, he's about to learn. ]
The moment he wakes, he thinks for a split second that it's Gotham he finds himself in, expecting Alfred to chide him for still being in bed when they have accountants or whoever making their way over for breakfast because of his lack of initiative in handling the Wayne finances. In that split second, he expects to hear the man's voice, but instead, he only hears the gentle hum of his laptop there next to the bed, keeping a watchful eye on everything while he sleeps and he remembers... he's alone.
Every time he wakes, he has to wipe the tears from his eyes β his head pounds and he can barely sit up sometimes. He knows he's out of aspirin β knows he needs to get some, but that involves leaving the tower and with everything that's happened as of late, he finds there to be no reason for him to. No reason for there to be Bruce Wayne. No reason for there to be Batman. No reason to be hope when his own β when his light β is gone now. Because what is Batman without Robin? Nothing. Just as he's become.
Fingers in his hair, head hanging between his shoulders, he tries to recall if maybe there's a willow tree nearby he can cut the bark off of and make do with that for pain relief when suddenly, his laptop alerts him to something and he slowly glances over to catch the video at the door. The screen glows soft in the dark room, a setting where it doesn't bother his eyes as much, and he sees the familiar costume there even from the bed, the black and blue difficult to mistake for anyone else.
For a long moment, there's silence β no reply β to Dick's inquiry with as to whether or not he can come in and it seems as if Bruce is either not home βhahβ or outright ignoring the other man. It's only after what must feel like minute longer than it should usually take for him to give some sort of reply that the door unlocks with a heavy click and that's Dick's answer.
What he steps into... well. It's certainly not the manor. His own suffered severe damage when it had caught fire back when he was younger and his father had moved them to the penthouse in Wayne Tower. Since then, it's been his home and it's why he rarely leaves it. Despite this not being Gotham, this, however much of a replica it might be, is the closest thing he has to home here which, in itself, is often a double-edged sword for his feelings. But the design of the penthouse, when Dick makes his way up via the elevator, is everything gothic in terms of architecture yet very much Gotham despite.
And when he gets himself there to the penthouse... saying it's a light disaster is a bit of an understatement. The main room is in a state of disarray β things strewn about the floor, chairs tipped over, the large table shoved all the way to the wall, shards of glass still sprinkled about across the floorboards. Books and papers litter the floor β a board game he and Damian had been playing knocked over with all its pieces scattered. None of it looks fresh. It's been like this for some time now. Untouched. Without any signs of effort or desire made to fix it. Frozen in time. A sign of life does, however, make itself known in the form of a black cat with white little paws and touches of white underneath it. It meows the moment it sees Dick and lazily strolls its way over to greet him, graceful as ever with avoiding the clutter. That's when Bruce appears at the top of the stairs, disheveled, a heavy five o clock shadow happening there on his face, hands in the pockets of the sleep bottoms he has on. For a moment, he's silent, simply staring to the other until he finally speaks, voice a touch raspy. )
Take the cat with you. He belonged to Damian.
( And he knows how much Damian loved his animals.
But at that, he turns β makes his way back to his bedroom to sink into the darkness of it all in his bed and try to salvage what pieces of happiness he can find within his nightmares. Because it's the only way he ever gets to see the people he loves and misses. )
[ Dick does take in the whole room, the state of it as well as what it must have looked like before Bruce tore it apart, he's spent too many years having those detective skills being drilled into him not to notice these the details. Not that it points to anything he didn't expect, but it puts a finer point on some of the assumptions and perceptions that he already had about this much younger Bruce and the sort of bond that he hasβ had? with Damian. And it brings a whole lot of unexpected emotion to the forefront for him too, that's what has him frowning more than the general destruction, around the same time as the cat saunters over and starts winding around his legs, probably hoping that this human will give him some attention.
Dick crouches down to give him a little scratch behind the ears, he's more of a dog person but cats are fine too, so that's where he's at when Bruce makes an appearance. And he looks terrible, which only deepens the frown. Of course it's Damian's cat, and of course Bruce wouldn't even want to look at it, but he can't just lock it up in a room and forget about it either.
He's still trying to figure out what to say when Bruce is already turning around, just as he's pushing himself back to his feet and taking steps toward those stairs. ]
Waitβ
[ Adding a layer of frustration to everything else now. ]
He's not dead, you know.
[ There was probably more emotion to that than he intended, but... well, it's not as if he doesn't know what this feels like. Not here, not under Bruce's specific circumstances, but they've always had more than a few things in common, and Dick is pretty sure that's still true, even decades earlier and in a wild place like this. ]
( Regardless of Gotham, of universe, of version and everything else that makes them different, there are some things across Bruce Waynes that continue to remain so similar β so constant β it's almost eerie when it's spotted. Case in point, the way his steps slow to a stop there at the top of the stairs and he turns, staring to Dick with that look. That unmistakable, impossible to not recognize instantly especially for those who have been on the receiving end of it more than once Bruce Wayne stare. Regardless of age, regardless of his current state of attire, in this very exact moment in time, he is, without any shred of doubt, Bruce Wayne right then and there.
At least in name. Bruce is going to Batman until the day he dies after all.
But he stands there at the top of stairs behind the banister, gaze hardly moving away from the other man yet seeing the chaos around him that still remains untouched. Alfred would be appalled, he knows. But he'd also trashed the main room and defaced the floorboards with spray paint after Alfred had been attacked by The Riddler and left injured in the hospital back in his Gotham, so. This isn't exactly anything new if one really knows the inner workings and difficulties Bruce keeps hidden from most. Throw in the fact that after a year of having lived with Damian here, he's alone for the first time really in his life and one can imagine the sort of emotional and physical chaos he's capable of inflicting upon himself and his surroundings in being so.
Bruce Wayne isolated and alone, especially when angry or broken hearted, is a recipe for disaster regardless of age.
His jaw tight, he keeps his gaze fixed on Dick β lets it stray for only a moment to ensure the cat isn't up to anything it shouldn't be β before he finally licks over his lips and looks away. )
Then maybe you should be with him in case you disappear again.
( That wasn't Dick's fault and he knows that, but. Maybe it's enough to get him to go away. )
[ Dick has been through some tough times with Bruce, but as estranged as they've been at some of those points it's rare that they've ever been truly alone. Alone the way that Bruce is here and now, Dick doesn't need to know everything that he's done here to realize that Damian was his one strongest connection, that much came out easily from Damian himself, and that brief time that Dick actually had to talk to him, and subsequently to flip through the notes that he left behind. If he had any doubts then the state of this place, and the man himself, would have put those to rest.
If nothing else he's not only familiar with this tactic, lashing out in an attempt to cover a raw, painful wound, he was expecting it. Unfortunately for Bruce he's relatively low on ammunition that's actually going to sting, verbally anyway, but Dick is resilient, he's not just going to walk away and do nothing because Bruce is a little mean to him.
He does progress up a few stairs, stopping more or less halfway, at a more conversational distance. The proximity also makes it clearer that Bruce looks terrible, no surprises there either, of course he wouldn't be taking care of himself. Dick's assessing, both the state of him and what's his best approach here. ]
If I disappear then it's even more important that you don't shut him out like this, but I'm not just here for him.
[ He's not quite frowning, but his lips do press into a thin line briefly. ]
( The question comes out before he even realizes it and he narrows his eyes some at Dick when he asks it. Not out of skepticism entirely. More because he's tired and the lights, while dimmed, are still feeling a little bright to him; they always are in this spot of the penthouse. )
You don't know me. You don't exist for me where I'm from and I'm not the Bruce you came to know, live with, and fight alongside.
( He's the only one from his Gotham here β has been since day one and, again. It makes him wonder if he's meant to be the Batman who goes it alone. But at the thought, he turns, intending to head back to his room. )
[ Why. Like he hasn't heard that one already. Like he needs some compelling, irrefutable obligation to care. Maybe that's gotten under his skin more than he would prefer to admit, because he knows where that's coming from, specifically from people, in situations, where they don't know how that it can be better than this. He knows because he's been lucky, in so many ways. ]
Yeah, you're not the same person. Just like Jason isn't the Jason I remember. So what? I know you're Bruce Wayne. I know that you're fighting a war all on your own in a way that no one else has before you, or will after, and I know that you've only scratched the surface of what you can really do. And I know that you don't have to do this alone, not here, anyone who would stick by me would have your back too. We're all fighting for the same thing, even if it's in different ways.
[ He's made his way up a few more steps, but he stops again a few short from the top. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
action > tower
He's in the suit. That was less a deliberate choice and just a coincidence, he decided to come straight here rather than stopping to change. ]
Hey. Mind if I come in?
[ It seems like the best way to start. He'll wait for any kind of response for what he considers an appropriate length of time for a brooding Bruce to decide whether or not he wants to be reasonable. But hopefully he knows that Dick isn't going to be easily discouraged. If not, he's about to learn. ]
no subject
The moment he wakes, he thinks for a split second that it's Gotham he finds himself in, expecting Alfred to chide him for still being in bed when they have accountants or whoever making their way over for breakfast because of his lack of initiative in handling the Wayne finances. In that split second, he expects to hear the man's voice, but instead, he only hears the gentle hum of his laptop there next to the bed, keeping a watchful eye on everything while he sleeps and he remembers... he's alone.
Every time he wakes, he has to wipe the tears from his eyes β his head pounds and he can barely sit up sometimes. He knows he's out of aspirin β knows he needs to get some, but that involves leaving the tower and with everything that's happened as of late, he finds there to be no reason for him to. No reason for there to be Bruce Wayne. No reason for there to be Batman. No reason to be hope when his own β when his light β is gone now. Because what is Batman without Robin? Nothing. Just as he's become.
Fingers in his hair, head hanging between his shoulders, he tries to recall if maybe there's a willow tree nearby he can cut the bark off of and make do with that for pain relief when suddenly, his laptop alerts him to something and he slowly glances over to catch the video at the door. The screen glows soft in the dark room, a setting where it doesn't bother his eyes as much, and he sees the familiar costume there even from the bed, the black and blue difficult to mistake for anyone else.
For a long moment, there's silence β no reply β to Dick's inquiry with as to whether or not he can come in and it seems as if Bruce is either not home βhahβ or outright ignoring the other man. It's only after what must feel like minute longer than it should usually take for him to give some sort of reply that the door unlocks with a heavy click and that's Dick's answer.
What he steps into... well. It's certainly not the manor. His own suffered severe damage when it had caught fire back when he was younger and his father had moved them to the penthouse in Wayne Tower. Since then, it's been his home and it's why he rarely leaves it. Despite this not being Gotham, this, however much of a replica it might be, is the closest thing he has to home here which, in itself, is often a double-edged sword for his feelings. But the design of the penthouse, when Dick makes his way up via the elevator, is everything gothic in terms of architecture yet very much Gotham despite.
And when he gets himself there to the penthouse... saying it's a light disaster is a bit of an understatement. The main room is in a state of disarray β things strewn about the floor, chairs tipped over, the large table shoved all the way to the wall, shards of glass still sprinkled about across the floorboards. Books and papers litter the floor β a board game he and Damian had been playing knocked over with all its pieces scattered. None of it looks fresh. It's been like this for some time now. Untouched. Without any signs of effort or desire made to fix it. Frozen in time. A sign of life does, however, make itself known in the form of a black cat with white little paws and touches of white underneath it. It meows the moment it sees Dick and lazily strolls its way over to greet him, graceful as ever with avoiding the clutter. That's when Bruce appears at the top of the stairs, disheveled, a heavy five o clock shadow happening there on his face, hands in the pockets of the sleep bottoms he has on. For a moment, he's silent, simply staring to the other until he finally speaks, voice a touch raspy. )
Take the cat with you. He belonged to Damian.
( And he knows how much Damian loved his animals.
But at that, he turns β makes his way back to his bedroom to sink into the darkness of it all in his bed and try to salvage what pieces of happiness he can find within his nightmares. Because it's the only way he ever gets to see the people he loves and misses. )
no subject
Dick crouches down to give him a little scratch behind the ears, he's more of a dog person but cats are fine too, so that's where he's at when Bruce makes an appearance. And he looks terrible, which only deepens the frown. Of course it's Damian's cat, and of course Bruce wouldn't even want to look at it, but he can't just lock it up in a room and forget about it either.
He's still trying to figure out what to say when Bruce is already turning around, just as he's pushing himself back to his feet and taking steps toward those stairs. ]
Waitβ
[ Adding a layer of frustration to everything else now. ]
He's not dead, you know.
[ There was probably more emotion to that than he intended, but... well, it's not as if he doesn't know what this feels like. Not here, not under Bruce's specific circumstances, but they've always had more than a few things in common, and Dick is pretty sure that's still true, even decades earlier and in a wild place like this. ]
no subject
At least in name. Bruce is going to Batman until the day he dies after all.
But he stands there at the top of stairs behind the banister, gaze hardly moving away from the other man yet seeing the chaos around him that still remains untouched. Alfred would be appalled, he knows. But he'd also trashed the main room and defaced the floorboards with spray paint after Alfred had been attacked by The Riddler and left injured in the hospital back in his Gotham, so. This isn't exactly anything new if one really knows the inner workings and difficulties Bruce keeps hidden from most. Throw in the fact that after a year of having lived with Damian here, he's alone for the first time really in his life and one can imagine the sort of emotional and physical chaos he's capable of inflicting upon himself and his surroundings in being so.
Bruce Wayne isolated and alone, especially when angry or broken hearted, is a recipe for disaster regardless of age.
His jaw tight, he keeps his gaze fixed on Dick β lets it stray for only a moment to ensure the cat isn't up to anything it shouldn't be β before he finally licks over his lips and looks away. )
Then maybe you should be with him in case you disappear again.
( That wasn't Dick's fault and he knows that, but. Maybe it's enough to get him to go away. )
no subject
If nothing else he's not only familiar with this tactic, lashing out in an attempt to cover a raw, painful wound, he was expecting it. Unfortunately for Bruce he's relatively low on ammunition that's actually going to sting, verbally anyway, but Dick is resilient, he's not just going to walk away and do nothing because Bruce is a little mean to him.
He does progress up a few stairs, stopping more or less halfway, at a more conversational distance. The proximity also makes it clearer that Bruce looks terrible, no surprises there either, of course he wouldn't be taking care of himself. Dick's assessing, both the state of him and what's his best approach here. ]
If I disappear then it's even more important that you don't shut him out like this, but I'm not just here for him.
[ He's not quite frowning, but his lips do press into a thin line briefly. ]
When was the last time you had something to eat?
no subject
( The question comes out before he even realizes it and he narrows his eyes some at Dick when he asks it. Not out of skepticism entirely. More because he's tired and the lights, while dimmed, are still feeling a little bright to him; they always are in this spot of the penthouse. )
You don't know me. You don't exist for me where I'm from and I'm not the Bruce you came to know, live with, and fight alongside.
( He's the only one from his Gotham here β has been since day one and, again. It makes him wonder if he's meant to be the Batman who goes it alone. But at the thought, he turns, intending to head back to his room. )
I'm fine. Go be with your family, Dick.
( Because there's none to be found here. )
no subject
Is that what you told Damian too?
[ Why. Like he hasn't heard that one already. Like he needs some compelling, irrefutable obligation to care. Maybe that's gotten under his skin more than he would prefer to admit, because he knows where that's coming from, specifically from people, in situations, where they don't know how that it can be better than this. He knows because he's been lucky, in so many ways. ]
Yeah, you're not the same person. Just like Jason isn't the Jason I remember. So what? I know you're Bruce Wayne. I know that you're fighting a war all on your own in a way that no one else has before you, or will after, and I know that you've only scratched the surface of what you can really do. And I know that you don't have to do this alone, not here, anyone who would stick by me would have your back too. We're all fighting for the same thing, even if it's in different ways.
[ He's made his way up a few more steps, but he stops again a few short from the top. ]
As for the rest, you could tell me about it.
no subject
I'm fighting to save my Gotham. Why are you here?
( To save his Gotham. Because that's why they're all here. To prove their worlds β their homes worth saving. )