Fic: Mended Wings
Jun. 26th, 2010 09:17 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
munninTitle: Mended Wings
Author: Munnin
Rating: PG
Characters: Dick and Bruce, the cast of Haly’s Circus.
Disclaimer: No ownership, no profit and no offence meant. Everyone is of the age of consent in their country and period of history
Author’s notes: 100% organic. May contain minor flaws and imperfections that beta-treated slash wouldn’t.
Bingo card: AU. Alternate History: Canon event changed. Masterlist here.
Summary: When the wires snapped that night, it wasn’t just the elder Graysons who fell.
Dick heard the wire snap, heard his mother’s scream and then he could hear nothing but the air rushing past him. They were performing without a net for this trick and Dick knew there was nothing left to catch him, not even his parents.
His body more than his mind governed his actions as he fell. With instinct, training and muscle memory, Dick twisted, readying himself for the coming ground.
Bent legs, let the long bones do what they’ve meant to do and break. Drop to knees, tuck chin to chest, arms in and roll. Spread the force, shed the momentum. The last tumble bought him flat on his back and he stopped, hands out to grip the hard-packed dirt floor to be sure he was down.
Pain leaked in and with it, sound. The audience was screaming, a high pitched wail that echoed and reverberated off the big-top’s canvas. There animal sounds too, the uproar had frightened Kira the lion and she paced her cage with worried snarls. There was something warm too, something covering his outstretched hand. He dare no turn his head to look, there was still too much pain there but he brought his hand back to his face slowly. Blood, thick and red, covered his fingers...but it wasn’t his...here was blood on his legs, he knew that much but nothing but scraps and scratches from there up. Whose blood was is?
And then there were people, lots of people, mostly his people, crowding around him. Telling him to stay still, telling him it was going to be alright. Others were just crying. Lula the clown girl who helped him clean out the cages was rocking back and forth on her heels; her eyes were all blank and red.
The paramedics were there, moving people aside and wrapping a brace around his neck. Mr Harly was there too, holding Dick’s hand. “Be strong now Dickie. Be strong.” And then something covered his face and everything when dark.
***
Pain happened, time passed and Dick felt none of it.
***
The smell was wrong when Dick woke up. The popcorn was missing, the cotton candy too. Tobacco smoke and spices, Madam Viki’s candles, the rich, deep smell of the animals and of the other people who should be there. Everything smelt like sickness and the sort of clean that made your rather be dirty.
The noise was wrong too. Something was beeping, over and over like a dripping tap and feet shuffled on a hard floor that squeaked instead of squelching.
But there were voices. One he knew and one he didn’t. Mr Haly’s quiet words drifted to him.
“Mr Wayne. It’s so good of you to come.”
“Not at all.” The other voice soothed. It was deep and rumbly like thunder but calming like the engine of the trucks that moved the big-top. “How is he?”
Mr Haly made a sad noise, like crying but not. “They say he may never walk again. There’s a chance but...”
“But what Mr Haly?” the other man asked, not unkindly.
“He’ll need operations and a lot of physical therapy. And with his parents gone, god rest their souls... heavens know there’s precious little to be made in the trade any more. Between the company, we’ve pooled everything we’ve got but...it isn’t much. If the boy’s to be made whole again, it’ll take more than we have.” Mr Haly made the sad noise again and sat down. “There’s a company opening up in France that’ll take the high rigs at a good price. It might be enough to look after him for a little while but...with it goes our living. The Flying Graysons were our stars. What we’ll do without them, I don’t know.”
The other man shifted, resting his hand on My Haly’s shoulder. “I’ll cover the boy’s expenses and see to it that he gets the best care money can buy. You just find away to keep the company together. He’ll need a family waiting for him when he recovers.”
“But Mr Wayne, we’re circus folk and nomads. The courts will never grant us custody; even if we are the only family he has left-”
“If necessary I’ll adopt him myself, that way he can come back to you as soon as he’s ready.”
“Oh thank you Mr Wayne! Thank you! You don’t know what this means to us. Losing little Robin too after everything that’s happened would be the end of us.”
“It’s the least I can do Mr Haly.” The other man came closer to the bed and Dick closed his eyes, not ready to talk to anyone yet. The man touched his forehead gently, brushing back his hair. “Little Robin with broken wings.” He whispered, his voice soft and warm like his breath. “We’ll learn how to fly again. I promise. Both of us will fly again.” Dick tried not to squirm as the man kissed his forehead, just like his mother use to.
Maybe it was going to be ok.
Maybe.
***
“Damn it Dick!” Bruce growled, untangling himself as he tripped. “What have I told you about leaving your crutches in the walkway?”
“What?” Dick teased, pushing himself out from under the car on the slide-board. “The great Batman can fly across the city, hunt criminals in the night but can’t cross the cave without tripping over my sticks. Man you’re clumsy!”
Bruce growled something under his breath as Dick pulled himself up onto his sticks. After ten years he still had to resist the urge to help the youth up. Dick could manage on his own and denying that would only insult the youth’s independence. “You could wear the exoskeleton. That’s what I designed it for-”
“And I’m very grateful.” Dick snarked back wearily. “But you know I don’t like wearing it in the house. When I’m home I’d rather move under my own stream thank you. Besides,” he grinned playfully, “Alfred complains I leave scratches in the hardwood floor.”
“I do not.” Alfred admonished, appearing from nowhere with a plate of sandwiches. “However I do object to things being knocked over as you slid down the banister with your sticks in hand Master Dick.”
“That was years ago Alfred!” Dick leant against the bench, shaking off a stick to brush his hair back from his face. ‘You’re never going to let that one go are you?”
“I was referring to last week Master Dick.” Alfred admonished. “Don’t think I didn’t notice the dent of the side of the marble bust.”
“Oh! Busted!” Dick grinned and ducked a playful slap from Bruce for the pun.
“So what’s wrong with my car?” Bruce asked, grabbing a sandwich.
“Your car? You mean my car. I look after her. You just driver her around and break things.” Dick ignored his mentor’s growl and turned to Alfred. “Seriously Al! He bent the leaf springs. Do you know how hard that is to do? The man’s a manic. Can’t be trusted.”
Bruce gave his ward a playful push, panicking as Dick tottered dangerously, unable to get his sticks under him. As Bruce reached out to right him, Dick twisted, using his stick to knock Bruce’s feet out from under him. Bruce recovered without falling on his face but only just.
“There will come a time when you stop falling for that.” Dick muttered sagely, ducking as a sandwich was tossed at his head.
“Children.” Alfred muttered balefully. “Do behave.”
Bruce checked the clock, it was near dark. “You up for coming out with me tonight?” he asked, reaching for his suit.
“Only if you think you can keep up.” Dick grinned back, opening the case for his costume and its integral supports. “I was thinking of riding up to see the Haly’s crew this weekend. Mind if I take one of the bikes?”
“Only if you wear a street suits. I don’t want you riding without exoskeleton.”
“Yes mom.” Dick teased back. He took his time putting his suit on, settling each piece with care. The boots clicked closed around his calves, interlocking with the rest of his suit as the exoskeleton powered up, supported and strengthening his weakened legs. He was grateful for freedom the suits gave him but was weary of growing dependent on them. At least this way Robin could fly again, if only for a little while.
“Ready?” Batman asked quietly, watching as his boy adjusted and readjusted the power-levels.
“As I’ll ever be.” Robin smiled back. “Let’s fly.”
Author: Munnin
Rating: PG
Characters: Dick and Bruce, the cast of Haly’s Circus.
Disclaimer: No ownership, no profit and no offence meant. Everyone is of the age of consent in their country and period of history
Author’s notes: 100% organic. May contain minor flaws and imperfections that beta-treated slash wouldn’t.
Bingo card: AU. Alternate History: Canon event changed. Masterlist here.
Summary: When the wires snapped that night, it wasn’t just the elder Graysons who fell.
Dick heard the wire snap, heard his mother’s scream and then he could hear nothing but the air rushing past him. They were performing without a net for this trick and Dick knew there was nothing left to catch him, not even his parents.
His body more than his mind governed his actions as he fell. With instinct, training and muscle memory, Dick twisted, readying himself for the coming ground.
Bent legs, let the long bones do what they’ve meant to do and break. Drop to knees, tuck chin to chest, arms in and roll. Spread the force, shed the momentum. The last tumble bought him flat on his back and he stopped, hands out to grip the hard-packed dirt floor to be sure he was down.
Pain leaked in and with it, sound. The audience was screaming, a high pitched wail that echoed and reverberated off the big-top’s canvas. There animal sounds too, the uproar had frightened Kira the lion and she paced her cage with worried snarls. There was something warm too, something covering his outstretched hand. He dare no turn his head to look, there was still too much pain there but he brought his hand back to his face slowly. Blood, thick and red, covered his fingers...but it wasn’t his...here was blood on his legs, he knew that much but nothing but scraps and scratches from there up. Whose blood was is?
And then there were people, lots of people, mostly his people, crowding around him. Telling him to stay still, telling him it was going to be alright. Others were just crying. Lula the clown girl who helped him clean out the cages was rocking back and forth on her heels; her eyes were all blank and red.
The paramedics were there, moving people aside and wrapping a brace around his neck. Mr Harly was there too, holding Dick’s hand. “Be strong now Dickie. Be strong.” And then something covered his face and everything when dark.
***
Pain happened, time passed and Dick felt none of it.
***
The smell was wrong when Dick woke up. The popcorn was missing, the cotton candy too. Tobacco smoke and spices, Madam Viki’s candles, the rich, deep smell of the animals and of the other people who should be there. Everything smelt like sickness and the sort of clean that made your rather be dirty.
The noise was wrong too. Something was beeping, over and over like a dripping tap and feet shuffled on a hard floor that squeaked instead of squelching.
But there were voices. One he knew and one he didn’t. Mr Haly’s quiet words drifted to him.
“Mr Wayne. It’s so good of you to come.”
“Not at all.” The other voice soothed. It was deep and rumbly like thunder but calming like the engine of the trucks that moved the big-top. “How is he?”
Mr Haly made a sad noise, like crying but not. “They say he may never walk again. There’s a chance but...”
“But what Mr Haly?” the other man asked, not unkindly.
“He’ll need operations and a lot of physical therapy. And with his parents gone, god rest their souls... heavens know there’s precious little to be made in the trade any more. Between the company, we’ve pooled everything we’ve got but...it isn’t much. If the boy’s to be made whole again, it’ll take more than we have.” Mr Haly made the sad noise again and sat down. “There’s a company opening up in France that’ll take the high rigs at a good price. It might be enough to look after him for a little while but...with it goes our living. The Flying Graysons were our stars. What we’ll do without them, I don’t know.”
The other man shifted, resting his hand on My Haly’s shoulder. “I’ll cover the boy’s expenses and see to it that he gets the best care money can buy. You just find away to keep the company together. He’ll need a family waiting for him when he recovers.”
“But Mr Wayne, we’re circus folk and nomads. The courts will never grant us custody; even if we are the only family he has left-”
“If necessary I’ll adopt him myself, that way he can come back to you as soon as he’s ready.”
“Oh thank you Mr Wayne! Thank you! You don’t know what this means to us. Losing little Robin too after everything that’s happened would be the end of us.”
“It’s the least I can do Mr Haly.” The other man came closer to the bed and Dick closed his eyes, not ready to talk to anyone yet. The man touched his forehead gently, brushing back his hair. “Little Robin with broken wings.” He whispered, his voice soft and warm like his breath. “We’ll learn how to fly again. I promise. Both of us will fly again.” Dick tried not to squirm as the man kissed his forehead, just like his mother use to.
Maybe it was going to be ok.
Maybe.
***
“Damn it Dick!” Bruce growled, untangling himself as he tripped. “What have I told you about leaving your crutches in the walkway?”
“What?” Dick teased, pushing himself out from under the car on the slide-board. “The great Batman can fly across the city, hunt criminals in the night but can’t cross the cave without tripping over my sticks. Man you’re clumsy!”
Bruce growled something under his breath as Dick pulled himself up onto his sticks. After ten years he still had to resist the urge to help the youth up. Dick could manage on his own and denying that would only insult the youth’s independence. “You could wear the exoskeleton. That’s what I designed it for-”
“And I’m very grateful.” Dick snarked back wearily. “But you know I don’t like wearing it in the house. When I’m home I’d rather move under my own stream thank you. Besides,” he grinned playfully, “Alfred complains I leave scratches in the hardwood floor.”
“I do not.” Alfred admonished, appearing from nowhere with a plate of sandwiches. “However I do object to things being knocked over as you slid down the banister with your sticks in hand Master Dick.”
“That was years ago Alfred!” Dick leant against the bench, shaking off a stick to brush his hair back from his face. ‘You’re never going to let that one go are you?”
“I was referring to last week Master Dick.” Alfred admonished. “Don’t think I didn’t notice the dent of the side of the marble bust.”
“Oh! Busted!” Dick grinned and ducked a playful slap from Bruce for the pun.
“So what’s wrong with my car?” Bruce asked, grabbing a sandwich.
“Your car? You mean my car. I look after her. You just driver her around and break things.” Dick ignored his mentor’s growl and turned to Alfred. “Seriously Al! He bent the leaf springs. Do you know how hard that is to do? The man’s a manic. Can’t be trusted.”
Bruce gave his ward a playful push, panicking as Dick tottered dangerously, unable to get his sticks under him. As Bruce reached out to right him, Dick twisted, using his stick to knock Bruce’s feet out from under him. Bruce recovered without falling on his face but only just.
“There will come a time when you stop falling for that.” Dick muttered sagely, ducking as a sandwich was tossed at his head.
“Children.” Alfred muttered balefully. “Do behave.”
Bruce checked the clock, it was near dark. “You up for coming out with me tonight?” he asked, reaching for his suit.
“Only if you think you can keep up.” Dick grinned back, opening the case for his costume and its integral supports. “I was thinking of riding up to see the Haly’s crew this weekend. Mind if I take one of the bikes?”
“Only if you wear a street suits. I don’t want you riding without exoskeleton.”
“Yes mom.” Dick teased back. He took his time putting his suit on, settling each piece with care. The boots clicked closed around his calves, interlocking with the rest of his suit as the exoskeleton powered up, supported and strengthening his weakened legs. He was grateful for freedom the suits gave him but was weary of growing dependent on them. At least this way Robin could fly again, if only for a little while.
“Ready?” Batman asked quietly, watching as his boy adjusted and readjusted the power-levels.
“As I’ll ever be.” Robin smiled back. “Let’s fly.”
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Date: 2010-06-27 05:58 am (UTC)Thanks! I'm glad you liked it.