[ He's checked himself again. If there is one, he can't find it. Not on his own. If Dick scans him and there's nothing there, he's gonna feel like shit about it.
But the not knowing is killing him. ]
Just to prove to you that this Bruce is different.
[ truthfully, Dick doesn't know what he wants the outcome of this to be, but it's with a deep resigned sigh that he slides off the bed and into his unassuming dark civvie clothes to find Terry. ]
Sit tight. I'm on my way.
---
Mine was in my forearm.
[ when they finally meet up, it's at Terry's apartment in this strange, future-Gotham. they're seated at the dining table and a small metal tray sits in front of them, complete with a scalpel and a pair of tweezers. Dick holds out his left arm and rolls up his sleeve, points to the tiny little scar near the top of his forearm. ]
Jason had two. One in his arm like mine, and one in his upper thigh. Guess Bruce figured an arm was too easy to lose or something. This is just my phone with a scanner that picks up on the frequency that Bruce likes. My Bruce, anyway.
[ he holds out his phone to show it to Terry. the bright screen displays a radar that's currently empty. a part of him hopes that it stays empty, too, that Terry is right, and that there is some version of Bruce who doesn't try to track everything and everyone he knows. ]
[ Honestly, Terry doesn't know what to do with himself while he waits. The suit's off, stuffed in his closet and he's in his civilian clothes. It's easier to ignore Bruce's messages when he's not yelling McGinnis in his ear every few minutes. Eventually he tells Bruce he's okay. He just needs a minute to regroup, that he'd be back soon and that buys him some time. How much? Terry won't know until he checks his messages.
He's alone when Dick arrives and he's glad for it. Didn't want to have to explain this to his mother. He sits across from Dick and tries to keep his face neutral, to hide how nervous he's feeling. It helps that Dick mentions Jason again. It's a name he's never heard. But one he's going to remember and look for in Bruce's files. Dick doesn't need to know that Terry has no idea who that is.
A quick glance at Dick's phone before Terry lifts his gaze up to look Dick in his eye. ]
I'm gonna feel like such an ass when this proves he's not tracking me.
(( ooc: feel free to do us the honour of finding Terry's tracker where you'd like it, or lmk where it is and Dick can find it! ))
That'll make two of us.
[ he agrees, but his tone speaks volumes about the doubt in his mind as he slowly sweeps his phone over Terry's right arm, avidly watching the screen. even here, the threat of Bruce's presence hangs over them. the only reason Dick is actively trying to avoid the old man is for the sake of the multiverse. who knows what would happen to this universe if they were to meet?
who knows what will happen as a result of this act right here? if they really were to find a tracker in Terry's arm? what then? a sliver of guilt tugs in his gut because as much as he wants to believe this is for the better, a voice in his head questions his true reason for doing this.
could he really be projecting? trying to heal something in his past by using someone who simultaneously reminded him of himself, Jason, and Bruce all at once? if so, then he really is no better than Bruce. ]
Nothing here. [ he gestures with his free hand to Terry's other arm. ] Bring it closer here.
[ Terry doesn't realize he's holding his breath, not until Dick sweeps the phone over his arm and it doesn't show anything. There's relief in the way his shoulders relax and in how he exhales. ]
See? You were worried for nothing.
[ Maybe for a minute, Terry's forgotten he's got two arms. Because for that minute, he doesn't bring the left one any closer. He's right handed. If there was going to be a tracker in him, it'd be...knowing Bruce, it'd be where he wouldn't think to look for it. Like the arm of his non dominant hand. And that thought steels his resolve. Dick was wrong. He had to be. He moves his arm closer, watches with a wary eye as it sweeps over his arm.
And when it begins to beep, just below his wrist, he doesn't know what to do or say or think. It's all just static. ]
[ perhaps even more keenly than he is aware of the scanner, he's aware of Terry, whose spine is one long line of tension, body language screaming out his nerves. Dick doesn't say anything when Terry seems relieved for a moment, but he does use it to take a breath--one he hadn't realized he'd been holding together with Terry.
and when the beeping starts, his stomach swoops sickeningly. none of the sentiment shows on his face as he steadily holds the phone over Terry's wrist, moves it to one side until it stops, then the other, though he's not sure who he's double-checking for anymore.
it's only when he's absolutely sure of its location that he lifts his gaze to Terry's face, an empathetic pinch finally breaking through the stoic set of his brows. he puts the phone down on the table as quiet stretches between them. carefully, he watches Terry before gently breaking the silence. ]
Hey. McGinnis.
[ he tips his head to try to catch Terry's eyes. ]
[ It’s like a slow motion vid playing in his head. Every moment between him and Bruce, as far back as he could remember. And there was not a single instance he could point to as the definitive time Bruce slipped this…thing under his arm. Terry would have felt the incision, would have felt it being worked into place in his wrist. But there was nothing.
He never felt a thing.
Part of him is. Sad. Sad that he’d trusted Bruce, had defended him. There was a reason none of the other Bats spoke to him and Terry had ignored it. But he can’t shove his head in the sand with this.
And that was where his rage lived. The temptation to take the suit and throw it back into Bruce’s face is a strong one. The old man deserved a chance to explain himself, but Terry wasn’t sure he was ready to hear it. Wasn’t sure he’d ever be ready.
Finally, he remembers Dick is there and he’s not facing this alone. He blinks, once and then twice as if it would clear his head. ]
[ there’s that look on Terry’s face, the one people have when they seem to time travel and forensically sort through memories as if human recollection could ever hold up as reliable evidence for anything.
Dick nods, a slow breath sifting through his nose, a patient understanding held empathetically in the face of Terry’s turmoil ]
You couldn’t have known, Terry. You believed what you needed to believe.
[ his tone is not as harsh as the words themselves, as he picks up a little square of disinfectant to swipe over the spot on Terry’s wrist. if anything, the physical pain of the scalpel parting layers of skin should be a welcome, grounding distraction. ]
And I know you’re pissed. [ blood oozes out as the sharp metal tip punctures Terry’s arm beneath Dick’s steady fingers. if Terry is anything like most others in their field of work, his knee-jerk reaction to the sadness and hurt will be anger. ] But don’t do anything extreme like cutting Bruce off or going to tell him off. For your own sake—not his.
[ the tip of the scalpel contacts something solid, and Dick pauses, trading the tool for tweezers next. ]
[ He couldn't have known, but he should have. Calling Bruce paranoid would have been a massive understatement. Even in his old age, he kept such a hawkish eye on his property even though no one but Terry, Barbara, and the bats were his most frequent guests. Sensors on the windows and doors to alert him when someone even glanced in the manor's direction. A tracker seemed almost tame in comparison, even if it was buried in Terry's wrist.
But there was just something he couldn't understand. He could accept Bruce's paranoia at it's worst; they'd been together long enough that Terry had learned to navigate it. Why wasn't the tracker in the suit enough? Bruce got read outs of Terry's biometrics every time he put the damned thing on. He knew when Terry took it off and put it away and when he had it stuffed in his locker during gym class. ]
Why wasn't that enough?
[ He grimaces at the first swell of blood bubbling up from the cut on his wrist. The pain isn't new - he's been cut before. It may be the future, but muggers still liked their knives - so he knows how to work himself through it. Thanks to Bruce of all people. The thought nearly makes him laugh. ]
There's a tracker in the suit. He told me about it. [ His leg bounces, eyes squeeze shut. He's preparing himself for the tweezers. That's not going to feel nice at all. ]
[ Dick's gaze lifts apologetically to Terry's face before he lowers the tweezers to the tiny cut. he kept it tight, just a few small millimeters wide, little more than absolutely necessary to get the rice grain of a tracker out. ]
You know the answer to that. People behave differently when they know they're being watched, and you don't wear the suit all the time, are you? When you're at school, when you're at home. Out with friends, if you still have any of those--
[ the bouncing leg, the tension quivering through Terry's words. Dick lifts the tweezers again, takes a nice deep breath he hopes calms Terry as much as it helps him. ]
Stop that. Stay still.
[ he doesn't like this conversation, either, but they need to have it. this is something he's been through before. first, with himself. then, with Jason. Barbara, who was always smarter and had more of Bruce figured out much before he did. of course, the paralysis helped that along.
Dick quiets as he picks up some gauze to swipe away the maroon pooling at the cut. Steadily, he pushes the tweezers into Terry's skin, eyes laser-focused as blood oozes along the metal. ]
A tracker in you, where even you don't know, is the most secure way to find you if someone were to get their hands on you.
[ he finds the device and pulls it out, drops it onto the tray with a metallic little chink. ]
[ It wasn't enough because Bruce decided it wasn't enough. He was in control while Terry had the suit on. The minute it was off? Terry could be his own person again with friends and family and a whole life to live. Something outside of the cowl and the Mission. And apparently Bruce couldn't have that.
That'd been one of their fights once. When Terry wanted to go on a date instead of on patrol and he yelled that he didn't want to end up bitter and alone like Bruce. In the end, Bruce got his way though. And now with the benefit of hindsight, Terry hated himself for it.
When Dick tells him to be stop, Terry tries. His leg obeys, but his insides still feel like they're twisting themselves into knots. He doesn't even notice the tweezers pulling the device out. The metallic clank startles him back to reality.
He has to stare at it for a minute, really let it sink in how little the old man trusted him. How unwilling Bruce had really been to just let go. ]
The Joker almost killed me. Almost killed him and he still wouldn't tell me what happened. I had to hear it from Barbara.
[ He looks up from the tiny device and meets Dick's gaze. ]
[ there's a litany of reasons for why a tracker in the suit just isn't enough, but the hurt in Terry's eyes has Dick hemming it away for now. it's not the right time to make it worse, and Terry has already resolved to take the tracker out. that's good enough for now. they can deal with the rest of the fallout later. ]
You mean Tim. [ he's done enough digging in this universe to learn about the torture and the microchip, a twisted version of what happened to Jason in his universe. he hadn't found out that the Joker killed Jason until he saw it on the news, after all. missed the funeral Bruce hadn't bothered to tell him about. the memory laces pain in his gaze when he lifts it after pressing a square of gauze to the cut to stop the bleeding.
a heavy sigh sifts from his nose, and he slowly shakes his head. ]
I'm not surprised that he hid it from you. He's hid plenty from me, too. He always will. You can't change that. The sooner you accept it, the sooner you can adjust for it moving forward but... it's never going to stop hurting.
[ When he saw the HA HA HA painted across the cave, Terry felt his stomach sink. It made him think he'd lost someone he cared for deeply to the same senseless kind of violence that claimed his father. He thought he'd have to mourn all over again when he saw the rictus grin pulling Bruce's lips tight across his face. ]
While he was still controlling Tim, the Joker broke into the cave and gassed Bruce. I found him and got him the antidote.
[ And none of that mattered because Bruce did this anyway. He takes what Dick says and mulls it over. If he wanted to keep being Batman, to keep feeling worthwhile, Terry had to adjust. Learn a new way to navigate this relationship. ]
I'm sorry, Dick. I'm sorry I doubted you. [ He just didn't want any of this to be true. ]
[ the story has him frowning, a deeply disturbed feeling pulling through his insides with the thought of the Joker getting into the cave and gassing Bruce, on top of controlling Tim. he shakes his head, moving the gauze away to check the tiny cut and sees that it's stopped bleeding. he tapes a small square of bandage to it next, smoothing gently across the cut, satisfied with his handiwork. ]
You saved him. You know, Bruce likes to act like he doesn't need anyone ever, but part of why he's like this is because he does. He really does.
[ family. found family, chosen family.
at the apology, genuine surprise lifts Dick's brows. ]
You're good. [ he shrugs it off with a single shoulder. ] And honestly? Part of me wanted you to be right. If there was a world where Bruce wasn't a total paranoid asshole... [ a wry laugh breathes out instead of the words at the tip of his tongue: I'd wanna stay there. ] Guess it was just wishful thinking. Listen. Now that you know, you're better for it. Alright?
[ It made sense. He was alone for a very long time before Terry ever swiped the suit. He had pushed away everyone who had ever cared about him. Some of them to the point that they never visited. Terry had been foolish to think maybe things would be different for him and Bruce. But they never were, were they? ]
He's got a lot to answer for, but I'm not going to turn my back on him.
[ It wasn't all bad. Before this, they got along well enough for someone as grumpy and often downright hostile like Bruce. Enough that Terry considered them friends. Maybe with some time, he could forgive this. He didn't want to be someone else who walked away. ]
Thanks. If I'm gonna hold hands with someone after getting blown up, I'm glad it was you.
[ Dick nods once, a small, heartened smile softening the tense line of his mouth. ]
Good. It'll just take a little bit of time, but--he deserves it. And so do you.
[ Terry's a good kid, Dick decides, laughing again at the quip, though much more genuinely this time than wryly. ]
Thanks, Terry. I'm glad it was you, too. [ he reaches out to land a friendly pat on Terry's shoulder. ] Come on. Let's clean this up and get moving. We've got a lotta ground to cover before the old man shows up.
Sounds good. If you ever want to thread again I'm down.
[ There was still work to do and he would see it through. Pushing back from the table, Terry gets up to get his backpack and the suit. When he returns, he takes the tracker and puts it away in one of the pockets. Didn't want Bruce getting too suspicious. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
I flipped a coin to decide if he has a tracker or not. The coin said yes.
But the not knowing is killing him. ]
Just to prove to you that this Bruce is different.
aww poor bb (rubs hands together)
Sit tight. I'm on my way.
---
Mine was in my forearm.
[ when they finally meet up, it's at Terry's apartment in this strange, future-Gotham. they're seated at the dining table and a small metal tray sits in front of them, complete with a scalpel and a pair of tweezers. Dick holds out his left arm and rolls up his sleeve, points to the tiny little scar near the top of his forearm. ]
Jason had two. One in his arm like mine, and one in his upper thigh. Guess Bruce figured an arm was too easy to lose or something. This is just my phone with a scanner that picks up on the frequency that Bruce likes. My Bruce, anyway.
[ he holds out his phone to show it to Terry. the bright screen displays a radar that's currently empty. a part of him hopes that it stays empty, too, that Terry is right, and that there is some version of Bruce who doesn't try to track everything and everyone he knows. ]
Give me your arm.
no subject
He's alone when Dick arrives and he's glad for it. Didn't want to have to explain this to his mother. He sits across from Dick and tries to keep his face neutral, to hide how nervous he's feeling. It helps that Dick mentions Jason again. It's a name he's never heard. But one he's going to remember and look for in Bruce's files. Dick doesn't need to know that Terry has no idea who that is.
A quick glance at Dick's phone before Terry lifts his gaze up to look Dick in his eye. ]
I'm gonna feel like such an ass when this proves he's not tracking me.
[ Both arms on the table for good measure. ]
no subject
That'll make two of us.
[ he agrees, but his tone speaks volumes about the doubt in his mind as he slowly sweeps his phone over Terry's right arm, avidly watching the screen. even here, the threat of Bruce's presence hangs over them. the only reason Dick is actively trying to avoid the old man is for the sake of the multiverse. who knows what would happen to this universe if they were to meet?
who knows what will happen as a result of this act right here? if they really were to find a tracker in Terry's arm? what then? a sliver of guilt tugs in his gut because as much as he wants to believe this is for the better, a voice in his head questions his true reason for doing this.
could he really be projecting? trying to heal something in his past by using someone who simultaneously reminded him of himself, Jason, and Bruce all at once? if so, then he really is no better than Bruce. ]
Nothing here. [ he gestures with his free hand to Terry's other arm. ] Bring it closer here.
no subject
See? You were worried for nothing.
[ Maybe for a minute, Terry's forgotten he's got two arms. Because for that minute, he doesn't bring the left one any closer. He's right handed. If there was going to be a tracker in him, it'd be...knowing Bruce, it'd be where he wouldn't think to look for it. Like the arm of his non dominant hand. And that thought steels his resolve. Dick was wrong. He had to be. He moves his arm closer, watches with a wary eye as it sweeps over his arm.
And when it begins to beep, just below his wrist, he doesn't know what to do or say or think. It's all just static. ]
no subject
and when the beeping starts, his stomach swoops sickeningly. none of the sentiment shows on his face as he steadily holds the phone over Terry's wrist, moves it to one side until it stops, then the other, though he's not sure who he's double-checking for anymore.
it's only when he's absolutely sure of its location that he lifts his gaze to Terry's face, an empathetic pinch finally breaking through the stoic set of his brows. he puts the phone down on the table as quiet stretches between them. carefully, he watches Terry before gently breaking the silence. ]
Hey. McGinnis.
[ he tips his head to try to catch Terry's eyes. ]
Terry, are you... [ a beat. ] You alright?
no subject
He never felt a thing.
Part of him is. Sad. Sad that he’d trusted Bruce, had defended him. There was a reason none of the other Bats spoke to him and Terry had ignored it. But he can’t shove his head in the sand with this.
And that was where his rage lived. The temptation to take the suit and throw it back into Bruce’s face is a strong one. The old man deserved a chance to explain himself, but Terry wasn’t sure he was ready to hear it. Wasn’t sure he’d ever be ready.
Finally, he remembers Dick is there and he’s not facing this alone. He blinks, once and then twice as if it would clear his head. ]
I’m fine. Get this thing out of my arm.
no subject
Dick nods, a slow breath sifting through his nose, a patient understanding held empathetically in the face of Terry’s turmoil ]
You couldn’t have known, Terry. You believed what you needed to believe.
[ his tone is not as harsh as the words themselves, as he picks up a little square of disinfectant to swipe over the spot on Terry’s wrist. if anything, the physical pain of the scalpel parting layers of skin should be a welcome, grounding distraction. ]
And I know you’re pissed. [ blood oozes out as the sharp metal tip punctures Terry’s arm beneath Dick’s steady fingers. if Terry is anything like most others in their field of work, his knee-jerk reaction to the sadness and hurt will be anger. ] But don’t do anything extreme like cutting Bruce off or going to tell him off. For your own sake—not his.
[ the tip of the scalpel contacts something solid, and Dick pauses, trading the tool for tweezers next. ]
no subject
But there was just something he couldn't understand. He could accept Bruce's paranoia at it's worst; they'd been together long enough that Terry had learned to navigate it. Why wasn't the tracker in the suit enough? Bruce got read outs of Terry's biometrics every time he put the damned thing on. He knew when Terry took it off and put it away and when he had it stuffed in his locker during gym class. ]
Why wasn't that enough?
[ He grimaces at the first swell of blood bubbling up from the cut on his wrist. The pain isn't new - he's been cut before. It may be the future, but muggers still liked their knives - so he knows how to work himself through it. Thanks to Bruce of all people. The thought nearly makes him laugh. ]
There's a tracker in the suit. He told me about it. [ His leg bounces, eyes squeeze shut. He's preparing himself for the tweezers. That's not going to feel nice at all. ]
Why wasn't that enough?
no subject
You know the answer to that. People behave differently when they know they're being watched, and you don't wear the suit all the time, are you? When you're at school, when you're at home. Out with friends, if you still have any of those--
[ the bouncing leg, the tension quivering through Terry's words. Dick lifts the tweezers again, takes a nice deep breath he hopes calms Terry as much as it helps him. ]
Stop that. Stay still.
[ he doesn't like this conversation, either, but they need to have it. this is something he's been through before. first, with himself. then, with Jason. Barbara, who was always smarter and had more of Bruce figured out much before he did. of course, the paralysis helped that along.
Dick quiets as he picks up some gauze to swipe away the maroon pooling at the cut. Steadily, he pushes the tweezers into Terry's skin, eyes laser-focused as blood oozes along the metal. ]
A tracker in you, where even you don't know, is the most secure way to find you if someone were to get their hands on you.
[ he finds the device and pulls it out, drops it onto the tray with a metallic little chink. ]
That's probably what he would say, anyway.
no subject
[ It wasn't enough because Bruce decided it wasn't enough. He was in control while Terry had the suit on. The minute it was off? Terry could be his own person again with friends and family and a whole life to live. Something outside of the cowl and the Mission. And apparently Bruce couldn't have that.
That'd been one of their fights once. When Terry wanted to go on a date instead of on patrol and he yelled that he didn't want to end up bitter and alone like Bruce. In the end, Bruce got his way though. And now with the benefit of hindsight, Terry hated himself for it.
When Dick tells him to be stop, Terry tries. His leg obeys, but his insides still feel like they're twisting themselves into knots. He doesn't even notice the tweezers pulling the device out. The metallic clank startles him back to reality.
He has to stare at it for a minute, really let it sink in how little the old man trusted him. How unwilling Bruce had really been to just let go. ]
The Joker almost killed me. Almost killed him and he still wouldn't tell me what happened. I had to hear it from Barbara.
[ He looks up from the tiny device and meets Dick's gaze. ]
It's always going to be like this, isn't it?
no subject
You mean Tim. [ he's done enough digging in this universe to learn about the torture and the microchip, a twisted version of what happened to Jason in his universe. he hadn't found out that the Joker killed Jason until he saw it on the news, after all. missed the funeral Bruce hadn't bothered to tell him about. the memory laces pain in his gaze when he lifts it after pressing a square of gauze to the cut to stop the bleeding.
a heavy sigh sifts from his nose, and he slowly shakes his head. ]
I'm not surprised that he hid it from you. He's hid plenty from me, too. He always will. You can't change that. The sooner you accept it, the sooner you can adjust for it moving forward but... it's never going to stop hurting.
no subject
[ When he saw the HA HA HA painted across the cave, Terry felt his stomach sink. It made him think he'd lost someone he cared for deeply to the same senseless kind of violence that claimed his father. He thought he'd have to mourn all over again when he saw the rictus grin pulling Bruce's lips tight across his face. ]
While he was still controlling Tim, the Joker broke into the cave and gassed Bruce. I found him and got him the antidote.
[ And none of that mattered because Bruce did this anyway. He takes what Dick says and mulls it over. If he wanted to keep being Batman, to keep feeling worthwhile, Terry had to adjust. Learn a new way to navigate this relationship. ]
I'm sorry, Dick. I'm sorry I doubted you. [ He just didn't want any of this to be true. ]
no subject
You saved him. You know, Bruce likes to act like he doesn't need anyone ever, but part of why he's like this is because he does. He really does.
[ family. found family, chosen family.
at the apology, genuine surprise lifts Dick's brows. ]
You're good. [ he shrugs it off with a single shoulder. ] And honestly? Part of me wanted you to be right. If there was a world where Bruce wasn't a total paranoid asshole... [ a wry laugh breathes out instead of the words at the tip of his tongue: I'd wanna stay there. ] Guess it was just wishful thinking. Listen. Now that you know, you're better for it. Alright?
no subject
He's got a lot to answer for, but I'm not going to turn my back on him.
[ It wasn't all bad. Before this, they got along well enough for someone as grumpy and often downright hostile like Bruce. Enough that Terry considered them friends. Maybe with some time, he could forgive this. He didn't want to be someone else who walked away. ]
Thanks. If I'm gonna hold hands with someone after getting blown up, I'm glad it was you.
shall we put a wrap to this one?
Good. It'll just take a little bit of time, but--he deserves it. And so do you.
[ Terry's a good kid, Dick decides, laughing again at the quip, though much more genuinely this time than wryly. ]
Thanks, Terry. I'm glad it was you, too. [ he reaches out to land a friendly pat on Terry's shoulder. ] Come on. Let's clean this up and get moving. We've got a lotta ground to cover before the old man shows up.
Sounds good. If you ever want to thread again I'm down.
[ There was still work to do and he would see it through. Pushing back from the table, Terry gets up to get his backpack and the suit. When he returns, he takes the tracker and puts it away in one of the pockets. Didn't want Bruce getting too suspicious. ]
Ready. Let's finish this.