The police were supposed to do something. Dick opened the paper every day for some sort of information on the case, a new arrest or a new suspect, but aside from the original story of his parent's murder, there was nothing. Either the press didn't care what the police were doing or the police were failing miserably. 

Bruce suggested that he stopped looking so often but how could he not keep up with the case? These were his parents who were murdered and everyone seemed happy to pretend it was faulty equipment when it wasn't. He knew it wasn't. He told the police so many times in so many words that a man named Zucco harassed them for money before threatening them when they refused, he noticed someone not belonging to the circus around the ropes the day of the performance and then his parents died. How could this be open and shut failed equipment?

Dick debated asking for a private investigator. He knew they were a lot of money but it felt like the only way to get the answers and the justice he needed. He decided not to ask for one in the end since Bruce had been constantly telling him that he needed to step back and let the police do their jobs. Give them time to do their work and all that. Dick would like to, he really would, but it wasn't going anywhere. They were no closer to putting the murderer behind bars. So if he couldn't rely on the police and he couldn't rely on a private investigator, who could he rely on? Batman briefly came to mind since he'd been there the night they died but how was hard to track down and who's to say he'll be interested in the case? No, there was only one person who cared enough and that was him.

Bruce struggled to not assure Dick that he was working on the case. He wanted nothing more than to tell him everything he was doing but to do so was to reveal himself as Batman and he couldn't risk that just yet. It stung seeing Dick so disheartened with the lack of news and leads. Every day, he seemed more defeated and Bruce suspected he was losing even more sleep over it by the growing bags under his eyes. 

Finally, there was enough evidence gathered to bring Tony Zucco in without him immediately being let go. He planned to bring him in himself rather than offer the evidence up to Gordon. He wanted to be the man who brought the person responsible for Dick's suffering in. It was selfish, he would admit that freely, but he didn't doubt that anyone could say they wouldn't do the same. 

Before leaving, he said goodnight to Dick. Dick was already in bed, the covers up to his chin and his plushy peeking out from beneath. It was adorable. Exactly what Bruce needed to see before he finally brought the kid justice. 

"Remember, if you need anything, Alfred will be up late. He'll probably be in the study or the kitchen," Bruce said as he began to close the door. He often worried that Dick wasn't comfortable in the mansion. It was so different to his trailer and he was so small whilst there seemed to be endless hallways in his new home. It would intimidate anyone let alone a child who had his life turned upside down. Dick nodded although whether he would actually seek out the butler if he needed help would be left to fate. 

"Gnight B."

"Goodnight Dick, sleep well." He closed the door behind him and set off to the Batcave with renewed determination.

Batman decided the best way to bring Zucco in was to stake out his office. Like any good mobster, he pretended to run a valid business out of an expensive-looking office building. The other offices were likely empty but listed as other businesses to cover up the money coming into his account. The offices acted under pretend business hours but really closed at midnight. Zucco often left with his right-hand men into a sleek black car. It was the perfect time as he wouldn't have his entire gang there and the police weren't aware of his illegal dealings behind the business facade.

Twenty minutes before midnight, Batman crouched down on the roof of an apartment building opposite the offices. He planned to jump down onto the car parked beneath him and use the element of surprise to throw them off. He watched the doors carefully until he heard the sound of a can being crushed underfoot. Frowning, he looked down to the alley and felt his heart leap to his throat.

There, crouching behind a dumpster in a black hoodie and armed with a bat was Dick. Dick, who was supposed to be fast asleep in bed or at least still at the manor, was right there. A small part of him was almost proud of how he'd managed to not only sneak out but also make it halfway across the city without being kidnapped or murdered. Unfortunately, that small part was completely overshadowed by burning rage and overwhelming worry. Anything could've happened and Batman would be none the wiser until he got a call from the police or found that Dick's bedroom was empty in the morning. 

Abandoning his mission, he jumped down in the alleyway unsure of what he wanted to say but knowing he needed to get Dick out of here. 

"What the hell are you doing here?" Batman roared, storming up to the small boy. Dick gave him a withering look. He didn't know what he expected. Maybe fear or regret or just complete confusion as to why Batman of all people was angry with him. Right now, it just looked like he was mildly inconvenienced by him which just made him angrier. How could he not see the severity of this? How could Batman getting the jump on him not have him worried?

"What's it to you?" he replied.

"What's it- you're supposed to be in bed," he argued. 

"Couldn't sleep if you have to know. I thought I'd go for a midnight stroll."

"You're nine!"

"That's a great guess, I don't have any prizes on me though." Batman, had it not been for his extensive training, would've blown up right there and then but he took a deep breath. 

"Get up, you're going home."

"Uh, I'm pretty sure I'm not supposed to go with strangers so no can do." He was going to throttle this kid. Well, he wasn't going to but he wished to be in a world without consequences so he could. Maybe that would knock some sense into him.

"Richard, you're going to follow me to the car and you're going to wait there or else you're going to be a hermit till your eighteenth birthday when it becomes illegal to hold you against your will," he demanded. Dick blinked a few times, his expression still unfazed but processing the information that his guardian was in fact, Batman. 

"Are...are you dating my guardian?"

"No!"

"Hey, I'm open to that stuff, judgement-free zone."

"I'm not- I am your guardian."

"Wait so on the foster papers did you write Batman? Or did you have to write your legal name? Because if it's the former, I'm really questioning your already shoddy foster system."

"I wrote my real name because I'm," he lowered his voice for the next part, "Bruce Wayne." Dick's eyes narrowed as he put the pieces together and instead of a surprised or slightly terrified look that his mentor was expecting, he looked weirdly at peace. 

"You're here for Zucco." 

Oh. If Dick knew he was here for Zucco that meant that Dick was also here for Zucco. A nine-year-old snuck out of the house, and travelled across Gotham without being murdered or kidnapped, to potentially apprehend the person who murdered his parents. Batman fought not to fan the flames of pride. He had to admit this was brave but unfortunately, it was incredibly stupid. The bat Dick brought was no match against a gun or men who spent most of their time punching people until something broke. Dick was small but he wasn't small enough to dodge every fist thrown his way and bullets didn't care much for size. He was trained to do flips, not fight. 

Batman, more than anyone, understood doing something for the greater good without the training to do it safely. It took him time to learn how to fight and construct missions so he didn't put himself in more hazardous positions than required. He felt some of the anger melt as he remembered how helpless he felt when his parents died. He didn't become Batman until his twenties, almost ten years later, and before he dawned the mask he felt like he couldn't do anything to avenge them. Here Dick was with a bat and a hoodie, trying to give his parents some sort of peace.

With a sigh that came from a place of compassion as well as a brief break from his fury, he knelt down and put his hand on Dick's shoulder. The kid looked so tired when they were this close. He always looked tired, he hardly ever slept. How he managed to function without the skills Batman had was a wonder in itself. He really was a boy wonder. 

"I am and to do my job, I need to know you're safe which means I need you to go sit in the car," Batman explained. 

"You'll bring him in?" he asked quietly.

"I will."

"And you'll give him a punch from me?" Despite himself, he couldn't help but chuckle under his breath. He nodded.

"I will but I have to get you the car first and now before he comes out of that building. Do you understand?"

"Yeah, I'm not stupid." Dick stood up and threw the bat to the side, following his mentor back to the car.

"I'm afraid to ask but didn't you bring that from home?"

"A guy in a leather jacket gave it to me on the bus. He asked why I was on the bus, I said to get justice, he said you'll need this and he also gave me this cool pin." He pulled at his black hoodie to show a small homemade pin with an anarchy symbol. "He had a mullet. I think I'd look good with a mullet."

"You practically have a mullet."

"Yeah, but I don't have a mullet. Do you think I should get a mullet?"

"I think you should get in the car before I remember why you're here in the first place."

For as long as it took to apprehend Zucco and give him more broken bones than necessary which the GCPD happily ignored when making their official arrest, Batman was unable to feel the anger of finding his young ward unaccompanied on the streets. It was only when he went back to his car and saw Dick upside in the passenger seat that he remembered and his mind began connecting dots. If Dick was here for Zucco then he had to figure out where Zucco was doing business. He had to do research. Research that he couldn't do only with a computer. Research he'd need to leave the house to investigate first hand just like Batman had to. That could only mean this wasn't the first time he left in the middle of the night with no one's permission and no one to care for him whilst Batman thought he was asleep or at the very least in bed. 

Dick scrambled to right himself when he noticed Batman walking up to the car. He stared forward as his mentor entered the vehicle and shut the door behind him. There was silence for a moment and he smartly didn't try to bring up conversation. In the safety of the car and its heavily tinted windows, Bruce pulled his cowl down and let himself be the billionaire guardian rather than the dark knight. Well, the very angry and concerned billionaire guardian.

"How long have you been sneaking out?" Bruce asked in as calm a voice as he could manage.

"Is that rhetorical or do you actually not know?"

"The second." Dick made a face, somewhere between surprise and confidence as though he was patting himself on the back for slipping past Gotham's greatest detective. 

"Two weeks ago. Hit a dead end so I needed to do my own research."

"You're nine. I told you to let the police handle this."

"Oh yeah because they were doing such an amazing job. You were investigating him too so you also knew that they weren't going to do it. How is it my fault that I didn't know you were Batman?" he snapped back. "I was doing what no one else was."

"Again, you're nine. This isn't your responsibility and you could've gotten yourself killed. What was your plan? Go up to him and ask if he'd turn himself in?"

"Before the bat, I was going to cut his brakes. Auntie Katya worked on the motorcycles and became a widow after her husband got in a car crash right after she caught him in bed with a babysitter. After the bat, well, I think you can figure that out from the brakes plan."

"You were going to kill him?" Bruce shouted, forgetting that he was supposed to be calm at this moment.

"Well, I might've been a bit too optimistic on that front."

"I can't believe I didn't know about this. Any of this. You could've killed a man tonight if I wasn't there or you could've gotten yourself killed," Bruce muttered to himself. 

It was supposed to be a matter for solely himself to hear. He needed to hear it aloud so this all felt real instead of a terrible dream. His home was supposed to be safe, he was supposed to be able to control who goes in and who comes out but he was completely unaware of Dick leaving at night. Of course, he understood why Dick would do it. He felt the exact same when he lost his parents but now he was suddenly understanding how Alfred must have felt. Watching someone so young throw their life away at any given moment if it meant getting justice. 

"I can," Dick mumbled bitterly. 

"What was that?" he snapped. 

If it wasn't for the anger bubbling at the surface, he would've sounded a lot more surprised that the acrobat had dared to answer back. All night, he kept feeling impressed that Dick didn't have the fear he was used to. The mask scared plenty of criminals who had seen comparatively worse things yet it was just a little gimmick to the child in his care. Maybe it was a circus thing. He was so used to costumes and performances that he saw right through to what was hidden behind it all. Even before knowing it was Bruce, he hadn't shown much care for the reputation he had. 

"I said that I can. As in, I can believe you didn't know."

"I knew what you were referring- What do you mean you can believe?"

"You're literally never there since you're either at work or at your night job apparently. I just thought you were sleeping at the office but turns out you're punching poor people in the face. We treated our animals better than you treat me," he answered.

"I treat you better than most! I treat you much better than the detention centre, now they're the ones who treated you like an animal."

"Treating me better than juvie isn't the win you think it is," Dick replied. "We played with our animals, we trained them, we knew that looking after them was more than giving them food and shelter. So maybe you don't treat me like an animal, I'm so sorry I've got the wrong metaphor for your great batliness."

"Richard-"

"Here's a better one since you're as pedantic as you are a liar. You treat me like a decoration! I'm just some pretty vase that sits on the shelf that you throw a look at sometimes. Face it, you're never there. You're at work, you're in your office, you lock yourself in the library, you're asleep. Notice the pattern there? You're never around me outside of meals and saying goodnight before you sneak off in lycra." 

He wasn't far off on the lycra but Bruce wasn't focusing on that right now. The anger that had boiled his blood now cooled and left him feeling sickly. Bruce knew he didn't spend enough time with his foster son and he justified it because he was out there trying to catch Zucco. He could tell himself how noble that was over and over but in the eyes of Dick, he was a man who took him in on a whim and showed no further interest in him. Perhaps some interest would've prevented him from sneaking out. More likely, telling him that Batman was his guardian and was doing everything in his power to give him justice would've done the trick. Bruce couldn't be blamed for not trusting a child with his secret but he could be blamed for not doing more.

"I'm just a charity case for you. Oh look at this poor tiny orphan in juvie, he's not even from here, let me use my vast riches to give him a better life."

"That's not-"

"Hey, I don't blame you for it. Rich people like you need to seem at least a little human so picking up some kid is the best way to show you're not completely heartless."

"I didn't foster you for publicity," Bruce insisted. 

He needed that to be understood. He knew some grimy people who were paraded as omnibenevolent philanthropists just to cover up what they did behind closed doors and his skin crawled with discomfort at even being considered as part of the same group. It never crossed his mind what the media would make of the fostering aside from the basic headlines. The reason he kept Dick away from the public eye was to avoid him being exposed to that life so young with no sort of media training. He'd just lost his parents, the last thing he needed was an insensitive reporter asking about his immigration papers or asking if he even knew English. He did. He spoke multiple languages fluently and those languages evidently included sarcasm. 

"You keep telling yourself that," the acrobat responded. "I'll pack my things when we get back."

"Why would you do that?" 

"Because I snuck out and you're pissed at me?"

"I'm not giving you up over this. For one, I care about you. I didn't take you in for a good headline and you'd go back to jail. For two, you just tried to kill a man and although my supervision is clearly not up to standard, you're better off with me. I don't want you sentenced for something I can prevent and I don't want you locked up for the crime of being an orphan so to prevent that, you're staying," Bruce explained. "How can you jump to so many conclusions when you don't even know me?"

"Who's fault is that?"

"Fair point. From now on, we're going to be honest with each other. I uh I'll make the effort to spend time with you."

"Because you've realised it was stupid of you not to before or because I nearly committed second-degree murder?"

"It would be first-degree."

"Only with the bat. I reckon I could've argued I only wanted him to crash if I cut the brakes." As much as Bruce would love to argue about the semantics, he didn't let himself take the bait. 

"The point is, I'll do more to support you and I expect you to come to me with your concerns."

"Because that worked out so well," Dick drawled.

"I'm trying." The acrobat's tense posture loosened at his voice and a tired sigh followed.

"I'm sorry, B. I just- I don't know how long it will be until you're tired of me. I thought you already were if I'm honest. I wanted to get this done before you send me back."

"You're never going back there," the older insisted. 

"How can you be so sure?"

"Because...I'm Batman." 

A pause followed. 

Then Dick let out a giggle.

"Alright. I promise I won't try to gravely harm or murder Zucco. Not just because the police presumably took him in."

"Good. I have wonderful lawyers but even they would struggle with this case."

"Hey, maybe I could be like a sidekick?"

"Absolutely not."

"C'mon! I got here without being murdered, didn't I?" 

"Nope."

"Please?"

"No."

"I'll break you down eventually."

"If you do, I'll eat my batarang."

"He never did eat that batarang," Dick sighed, a faux forlorn look on his face. The teen beside him rolled his eyes and lightly shoved him. 

"But you didn't become Robin that night, he said no," Jason pointed out. 

"Oh, did I say that's the night I became Robin? I meant that was the night I decided to grow this magnificent mullet you see before you."

"You're the worst."