farcry: (43)
𝘨𝘳𝘢𝘺𝘴𝘰𝘯 ([personal profile] farcry) wrote in [personal profile] batfakes 2025-05-01 03:29 am (UTC)

Terry thought they’d be sorry for whatever consequences Bruce would try to cast on them, but the truth was, Dick was only sorry for the fallout. Terry said the one thing he shouldn’t have and his heart clenched, watching the way Jason’s hand flew out, fast and sharp, to clamp around the kid’s jaw.

“Jason,” Dick said, quiet but firm, voice taut with urgency. Jason let go but the air charged with animosity. Dick sighed. He didn’t want to leave Terry. He wanted to take him with them—to shield him from the worst of Bruce’s anger, to explain, to fight for him, but Terry wasn’t asking for protection. He was sitting there like every stubborn Robin before him, heart braced for the fallout, spine set like steel.

Dragging him out by force would only harden him more. There was no world where that ended with understanding, no world where that would make Terry feel safe or seen.

“Okay,” he breathed, soft with resignation as he rubbed slow and calming on Jason’s back. They’d have to go. That’s how it had to be.

Still, it hurt. All of it. Even after everything, some part of him still wished Bruce would listen. Still hoped for a conversation or another way, or something, but Terry’s very existence here proved that was long gone. He shouldn’t let himself hope for better where Bruce was concerned, so he drove that ember deep and smothered it out.

His eyes drifted up to Terry’s face, still visible over Jason’s shoulder as he pulled out his own burner and wiped it clean. Bruce didn’t need more reasons to come after them. With a kiss to Jason's temple, Dick stepped over to Terry and gently tucked the burner into his belt.

“Terry,” he said, low and warm, “text me later, okay? Just let me know he found you.”

He hesitated. There should be something more he could say—advice, a warning, farewell, but nothing landed. That look on Terry’s face, all fire and resolve, reminded him of so, so much, so he did the only thing he could think to do. His hands came up to cradle Terry’s face, thumbs brushing over cheekbones, and he leaned in to press a kiss to the kid’s forehead. Gentle. Steady.
Brotherly.

He lingered there for half a second longer than he meant to then stepped back, quietly, before turning to help Jason pull together the last of what needed removing from this place. Once Bruce got here, there would be no coming back.

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