Chapter Text
“So,” Dick says, Peter watching him carefully, “multiversal travel’s not your favorite thing.”
He blinks then smirks, Dick noting that it doesn’t quite reach his eyes as he nods.
“Yeah, you could say that.”
Dick sits back in the chair, absorbing for a beat the story Peter’s just told him.
It all makes sense now, why Peter was so defensive about Dick showing up as he did and poking holes in and around his life– former life as it were. He could still hear Jason’s voice in the back of his mind saying that anyone would be suspicious of someone ingratiating themselves into their lives but Jason was one more prone to paranoia, than patience.
The gaps in Dick’s research, the threads that didn’t quite ravel together, all of it clicks now in a way that just gives him more empathy for the person sitting across from him– Peter clearing his throat as Dick looks back up at him.
“So you see, I’m not really sure how to,” he gestures to him, “help you, or whatever. I can try, you know. Tell you where to go but I’m not–” he cuts himself off, Dick nodding once in understanding.
“You don’t want to risk more trouble finding you.”
Peter snorts, standing up and running a hand through his hair.
“Yeah, I don’t know about that.”
There’s something painfully sad in the way he says it, a melancholy in his tone that Dick is all too familiar with. Dick can’t say he’s been in Peter’s exact shoes but he’s been through enough, the twinge of the gunshot wound he’s still recovering from in his chest just one of the many instances where he’s been faced with impossible choices and even more impossible odds.
Through it all though, he knows he’s always had someone looking out for him– someone that he knew he could call, even if there were times when he didn’t reach out for it. From the way Peter told his story, the careful and controlled way he described the death of his aunt, it’s all too familiar to him– the rawness of Peter’s grief so visibly on display despite how much he seemed he was trying to hold it back.
He thinks now of Bruce, complicated man that he is– of the careful way that he carries himself and of the way he channels that pain and that intention into the rest of them, how it’s manifested itself differently in each of the ones that he calls family.
Dick watches Peter run his hand over his face and feels the weight in a way that incites sympathy not just for Peter but inexplicably, for Bruce– the weight that Dick feels for his city, for the Titans, still not quite comparable to the inevitability that he can see is written all over Peter’s face.
“I’ll help you,” Peter says quietly, his eyes having a faraway expression. “I can’t promise it’ll work, but…” he trails off, Dick going to stand as well– carefully pushing the chair back in.
“Thank you,” he says, Peter’s eyes lifting up to meet his. “Really, I appreciate it.”
Peter just nods, Dick seeing the way his eyes flick out over the apartment– a place now that felt too sacred to talk strategy or plans.
“I’m sorry, by the way. For breaking in like this,” he says, Peter shaking his head.
“I’m surprised stuff’s still here,” he says, his eyes tracking over the dust and the personal effects– papers and other things in disarray. “I thought Happy would’ve gone through by now but…”
Dick’s not sure if Happy is a name or the super, some part of Peter’s story still outside of his grasp when Peter shakes his head.
“We should go.”
He grabs his mask then pauses, as if remembering that of the two of them– only Dick is in civilian clothes.
“Um, we can meet outside or…”
“Could we go back to my apartment? If you don’t mind,” Dick asks, Peter looking on him in confusion. “I just– if it works, it’ll be empty and I just want to be sure it’s all in order for the next person.”
Peter gets a funny look on his face but then the corner of his lips upturn, nodding as shoves his mask on over his head.
“You in the FEAST housing?”
Dick nods, Peter going over to the living room and sliding open the window– practiced as it is as the white eyes of the mask stare back at him.
“I’ll see you over there.”
He exits out the window, sliding it close from the outside and then he’s off– the thought occurring to him that Peter now seems to trust him in this apartment when he hadn’t not thirty minutes before.
There’s nothing else left for him here , he thinks in a voice that suspiciously sounds like Alfred– Dick pointedly shoving that aside as his mind begins to twist over an idea in his mind as he goes out the way he came, turning the lock and closing the door behind him.
By the time Dick’s made it back to his apartment, the plan is nearly fully formed– Peter, not Spider-Man, waiting outside the entrance as he shifts his weight back and forth.
“Hey,” he says, allowing Dick to take the lead into the building and following behind. His steps are quiet, Dick idly wondering if this was a part of his powers or something intentional– still things that he’s curious about, that at this point, wasn’t any of his business.
Not that that’s ever stopped you before , he hears in the back of his mind– not even bothering to think of who or where that could’ve come from. It was his fatal flaw, the one thing that has gotten into more trouble and more sticky situations– current notwithstanding– than he could count. It was a point of contention in his relationship with Barbara much less with Kory, even more so a consistent issue with the Titans or even with the current roster of people in various Batman attire.
Dick’s never known to quit, something innate in him even when he was flinging himself off the trapeze– pushing himself to swing higher and jump farther– a trait that’s carried with him, if not magnified in the years and years since.
Peter had no obligation to help him out, though he had certainly hoped that he would, and now knowing how much of a personal cost it would be– Dick couldn’t leave without attempting to fix the problem in front of him.
It wasn’t his problem to fix but if everyone thought that way, nothing would get done– plan solidified as he opens the door to his apartment and welcomes Peter in.
“Home sweet home,” he says, Peter looking around as Dick closes the door behind him.
“It’s nice. Nicer than mine,” he says, answering at least one of Dick’s questions and ticking off an option in his mind. Peter motions towards the box on top of the kitchenette that still held some of the toiletries Dick hadn’t fully sorted. “They set you up?”
“FEAST is very thorough,” he says, thinking of Maria and her son. “Though as I understand it, this has more to do with the generosity of a company than anything else. Your world is,” Dick laughs under his breath, “a lot more forgiving.”
“Company?” Peter asks, Dick explaining as he nods towards the box.
“The volunteers who helped set me up says this was all from a grant from Stark Industries,” he says, watching in surprise as Peter’s face pales. “Is that… a bad thing?”
“ No . No, no, no, not at all. It’s just– a surprise, I guess,” he says, shaking his head and looking intently at the box. There’s something off-kilter about the motion. “Or maybe not, I– yeah. That’s– good.”
Dick waits for an explanation that doesn’t come, Peter shaking himself as he looks around the apartment– only for a beat or two to pass before he turns to him in confusion.
“You said you wanted to clean up…?”
“I wanted for things to be put in order,” he clarifies, Peter staring at him warily as he puts his hands up. “Promise, this isn’t a trick.”
“Then what is it?” Peter asks, tensing up slightly though now– Dick can’t really blame him.
“Just a question, or a few really,” he says, bringing his hands down. “You don’t have to answer if you don’t feel up to it.”
Peter raises an eyebrow but says nothing, Dick deciding to just play it straight.
“Is there a reason that you’re… that you’re staying away from your friends? MJ, was it? And Ned?”
Peter’s face hardens, Dick continuing on before he can say anything. “I won’t pretend that I know what you’re going through, not with this anyway. I used to hate it when people would say ‘I know how you feel’ because even if they did, they didn’t . It’s different, for people like us. To lose the people we love and to– to keep going, with what we do.”
Peter says nothing but Dick can tell that he’s still has his attention– for now at least as he presses forward.
“But from what you said, of the spell and of everything that’s happened, I– I mean, it sounds to me like you do have people in your corner. People who might want to be there for you, if you’ll let them,” he says gently, Peter chewing the inside of his cheek.
“I’m not saying that it’s going to be easy but from experience, it’s– it’s hard, living and knowing that there’s some pieces of you that are missing.”
Dick presses his lips together, seeing the look of confusion on Peter’s face. It’s uncomfortable for him, to think of what that time of his life had been like– as if he’d been a whole different person which in most respects, he had been.
Ric is a version of himself that wasn’t all good but wasn’t all bad, fundamentally missing not just the memories but the life that he’d lived beforehand– robbed of a choice that he hadn’t realized he could make. It was ironic in a sense, that it was only after his memories had returned to him and that he knew of the differences between his life that he could fully accept– in some ways– what his life is like now, some wounds that still would never be healed no matter how much time or effort put into them.
But it was a choice nonetheless, choices that Dick wouldn’t be able to live with himself if he didn’t at least try and help Peter to understand what he was making by staying away.
“This,” he says, motioning towards his chest, “isn’t the first attempt on my life.” He huffs out a laugh. “Won’t be the last. But the last time, it was…” he motions towards his head, Peter’s eyes widening as he continues, “it was pretty bad.”
“You forgot who you were?” Peter asks, just as smart as Dick thinks him to be as he nods.
“It was…it’s better left in the past,” he says, sidestepping just how difficult it had been really been, “it went from bad to worse and I– I hurt a lot of people, people I cared about, because I didn’t know who I was. Who I am.”
Peter frowns. “They’re not– not telling them anything is going to keep them safe. Keep them from getting hurt.”
Dick gives a small smile. “You sure about that?”
Peter stares, eyes tracking over Dick’s face as he quickly explains, “I get it, it’s easier, pushing people away. You tell yourself that it’s better for them, but at the end of the day, you’ll never know for sure what’s at stake. You say this memory spell took away everyone’s memories of who you were, right?”
“Yeah,” Peter says with a nod, Dick giving him a look.
“And you’re sure it’ll always hold? That it affected everyone, and everything, across the world? The universe? If someone else drops in, who wasn’t affected by the spell, won’t they know who you were close to? The people that you cared about?”
Peter looks as if he’s been punched in the gut, as if the thought had never occurred to him as Dick looks on sympathetically.
“I’m not saying that keeping them in your life will keep them safe forever, I don’t think anyone can promise you that. But pushing them away? Without them knowing who they really are, who you are or were, in their lives?” Dick shakes his head, Peter absorbing that as he continues. “Take it from someone who’s been there. It’s hard enough knowing that there’s something missing and even worse if someone else knows more about you than you do.”
Dick shoves away the echoes of laughter in the back of his mind, forcing himself to stay in the moment and not to the way his skin crawls at the memories of who and what he’d done as Peter looks uncertain.
“I don’t… you don’t think they still…” he begins then trails off.
“I want to get home,” Dick says firmly, the tone of it enough to bring Peter’s attention to him. “But when we go to your wizard, I just–” he cuts himself off, thinking carefully of what to say.
“If you’re anything like me, you may not swing by there again,” he says, a look on Peter’s face that tells him that he’s right on the money. “I just wanted to give you some time, to think about it.”
Peter blinks then nods, an unreadable expression on his face then as Dick moves away from the door– Peter going for it.
“I really do want to pack some things up, leave a note for Teana or some of the volunteers,” he says, Peter looking as if he’s barely hearing him. “Do you think we could meet–”
“I’ll be back tomorrow,” Peter intones, a faraway expression on his face– his eyes flicking up to Dick. “Around noon?”
There’s more that Dick wants to ask, even more that he wants to say but he refrains– not wanting to push his luck and more, not wanting to push him before he’s ready as he nods.
“Thank you, Peter,” he says, Peter just nodding as he opens the door, closing it behind him without another word.
Dick stands in the middle of his apartment, wondering if he’d fucked that up or if there was more to do.
You need to remember, you can’t protect everyone, he hears in his memories– Bruce sitting beside him and looking stern, trying not to be.
There’s a phantom pain in his arm, a very real one in his chest– thinking now of what he did then.
I can try.