Fix You

Epilogue

"I heard what happened to the new Robin," Blake continued, a note of sympathy lacing his voice.

"I'm sure you didn't hear that from Gordon."

"No." Blake sighed.

"He's doing fine, in case you were wondering. Losing his best detective was hard, but… your replacement does well enough. For now."

Blake nodded, surprised by the lack of malice in the other man's voice. "Leaving Gotham was hard-"

"But necessary," the man finished, again in a perfectly simple voice. "I don't blame you."

"You don't?" Blake had never been one to take what others said to heart, but it had still stung imagining the denunciation from the boy for his abandoning the city.

"No. Though what I don't understand is Gordon's response to it all." The man pushed himself off the wall and started pacing the alley. "I mean, he loses his best detective and yet he refuses to hire someone even better in his place? No offense, of course," he added with a small smirk that lit up from under the hood. "Still, not that I wanted to stick around Gotham – the whole idea was to get away, actually – but it would have been nice to know I was at least wanted."

Blake watched Grayson pace, the limp he'd long possessed still visible, though not dramatically so, as he slowly meandered between the two brick walls enclosing the alley.

"You tried to get a job with Gordon?" Blake asked, easing his hand off his weapon and crossing his arms loosely.

"Mostly just for kicks," the boy replied, not looking at the cop. "Babs had a job there, wanted me to apply. I would've turned it down anyway."

"Hm…."

"Wouldn't make a very dramatic scene if I stormed out, only to hang around under his nose."

"You left?" Blake asked, mildly surprised.

Grayson stopped moving and seemed to think about it for a moment before nodding and carrying on. "Yeah, I guess I did."

"Why?"

"Nosy, aren't you?" Grayson laughed. "It's a long story; lot of built up tension, you probably already know it."

Blake sighed, running a hand through his hair. "What are you doing here?" He finally asked.

"Sulking, brooding. Looking for a job."

"There're no heroes in Blüdhaven," Blake started to say, but Grayson cut him off.

"I know. That's why I'm here. And that's why you're here, too." Grayson stopped his pacing again. He reached up and brushed off his hood, running a hand through his long, dark hair as he let out a long breath. Blake hadn't seen the boy in person for a while, only catching glimpses of him on television every now and then. He had grown, no longer the scrawny teenager the cop had once known. He was still a few inches shorter than Blake, built with lean, compact muscle like a gymnast. His face was fuller, with defined cheekbones, piercing blue eyes, and the scar that still ran down the side. His hair was longer, rough and shaggy and fell in his eyes.

"I'm hardly a hero," Blake finally said, letting his arms fall to his side.

"Some might beg to differ. But I didn't come to you for that kind of job. I think I can handle the tights on my own." Grayson smirked again.

Blake understood now. "Why would you want to be a cop?" He asked, eyeing the boy curiously.

"Well, for one, I need money if I'm going to live here. And I don't want to just filch off of Bruce's," he added quickly. "'Sides, I bet I'd be a great cop. Not to mention I'll get inside access to all things criminal – 's'not like I have a batsignal or anything; I need a way to get intel."

It made sense, but there was still one thing…. "Why here?" Blake asked. "Why Blüdhaven, of all places?" If Dick was trying to get away and out from under Batman's shadow, he wasn't going very far.

The boy sighed again, his face darkening and his voice growing serious. "I was trapped here for six weeks and no one knew it. If it hadn't been for some twist of fate, I would be dead. I was one in thousands. Thousands who weren't so lucky and thousands more who won't be, unless someone does something. Every hero has his drive, the one thing that spurs him forward even in the hardest times. For too long mine's been simply making Bruce proud. Sure, part of it was wanting to make sure no one else ended up like me, but at the heart of the matter…." Grayson clenched his fists and Blake heard the metal of his right hand softly clink. The cop noticed for the first time that the boy wasn't wearing gloves, the exposed metal glinting softly in the darkness.

"This city needs a hero," Grayson finally said. "You know that as much as I do. I'm ready to give it that. Who knows, maybe together, we can fix it."

The end.