Chapter 1
Leslie watched the newest Titan shifting awkwardly on the couch across from her, and set out the usual tea and cookies.
He glanced at them, then at her. Then, in his cultured, refined accent, asked, “is this because I’m British?”
Leslie laughed. “I always put out tea. I have coffee, if you prefer.”
He glanced at it again, shrugged, and poured himself a cup, sitting up stiffly as he took a sip and stared at her.
“I guess I should tell you how this all works?” Leslie offered, wondering at the new kid.
He shrugged slightly, jostling his tea, and set it down on the end table. “I – the Justice League gave me a primer when they brought me in. I get it.”
“You know you can take your mask off, right?” Leslie said. “In fact, if you want to change, there are sweats in the closet by the bathroom. I’ll remind you to put your costume back on before you leave.”
“Oh, uh,” the Titan said, “I’d rather not. No offense but I don’t really know you.”
“I understand,” Leslie told him. “Would you like me to call you Augury? Or you can pick a pseudonym, if you’d prefer. Whatever makes you comfortable.”
“Um,” said the figure. “Harry. Harry Potter. That is my real name, but I don’t suppose it’ll help you much to look it up.”
“I wasn’t going to look you up.” Leslie smiled at him, reminded of a dozen other heroes. “But, that’s true, it’s not a lot of information to go on.”
“So, I’m,” Harry picked his tea back up. “Supposed to talk to you about, about joining the Titans? Concerns I have, or problems with them, or…?”
“You can talk to me about whatever you want,” Leslie said. “They keep me on payroll for team conflict and trauma counseling, and whatever moral issues might impact you in the field, but that’s just what I have to nod to them about. A lot of people want to talk to me about their families, relationships, day jobs, normal things you might talk to a therapist about.”
“Right,” Harry agreed, “right. I think maybe I’m not ready to tell you about my life. But I have been doing the superhero thing for a little bit. I’m pretty used to it.”
“Alright,” Leslie agreed, “talk to me about that, then.”
“Oh, it, uh,” Harry slurped at his drink. “Alright. I was – I left. For university. I mean, actually, I’m still going, you know. I wasn’t lying.”
“Okay,” Leslie agreed, trying to parse apart his earnest reassurance. “It’s hard to juggle university and superhero duties. None of the Titans would judge you for taking some time away, if you need to. It wouldn’t be a lie.”
“Oh, I don’t mean,” Harry laughed awkwardly. “No, university’s not – it’s not too difficult. I’m doing fine, really. I just didn’t want you to think I was. Running away from home or anything like that, because I wasn’t, even if it feels like it sometimes.”
Leslie nodded, back on firmer ground. “That’s not so strange. A lot of people feel like leaving home is a kind of running, even if they never get involved in crimefighting.”
“Really? I guess they must,” Harry said, “still, it feels uncomfortable to keep secrets, this way. Like I’m lying to my family. Like I don’t trust them. Like I don’t love them.”
“Do you want me to give you the spiel about how secret identities are there to protect the innocent?” Leslie asked, “because I do believe you love your family.”
Harry smiled at her. “No, it’s alright. I know why I do what I do. I just already made the decision, before I left, but I never mentioned, so – well, I suppose it’s for the best, anyway. I left for university, and I picked my school to be near a man named John Constantine.”
“I see,” Leslie said, as blandly as possible.
Harry tilted his head. “Alright. You’re getting the wrong impression. Although – I mean, I am gay, and I have slept with him. But. I meant, to learn magic from him. It was more than a year before sex got tangled up in any of it. We never dated or anything.”
“He asked you to move out to New York?” Leslie asked, even more neutrally.
“No,” Harry said, “he just happened to be there when I was deciding what school to go to. I actually didn’t even contact him until I’d already moved in. He didn’t even agree, at first.”
“Why not?” Leslie asked, only slightly relaxing.
“He, um, hell, I guess this is something you should tell your therapist, right?” Harry sighed, and sipped his tea, and closed his eyes.
“You can tell me whatever you want, Harry,” Leslie said, “I’m not going to share it with anyone. But if you want to keep it private, you can do that, too.”
“He told me he couldn’t teach me if I was high,” Harry said. “That I had to get clean first, or he couldn’t be around me.”
“Was that difficult for you?” Leslie asked, making a note of that.
“Kind of,” Harry agreed. “He helped me a lot, and that made it easier, but he wouldn’t teach me a single spell until I was a week sober, so it took a while to get off the ground.”
“You seem to be doing pretty well with it, though,” Leslie said. “You are a Titan.”
Harry grinned. “Yeah! I’d have been doing all this longer, but it took a year to convince Constantine it was safe. Well. Relatively safe.”
“But he feels it’s safe now?” Leslie asked, more curious than she probably should have been, though far less worried for the boy.
Harry nodded. “At some point, he decided I knew enough magic to defend myself. Or at least call him, if I got in real trouble.”
“Do you think so?” Leslie asked.
Harry grinned again. “I’ve been planning this since I was a kid. Always been a big fan of Batman and Robin. I wouldn’t go out before I was ready. I know what I’m doing.”
“Good to hear,” Leslie said.
“You’re not going to ask?” Harry said.
“About?” Leslie asked.
Harry shook his head. “About Batman and Robin. What’s a British kid doing caring so much about Gotham, right? The Joker killed my parents.”
Leslie drew in a breath. “He’s done that to a lot of people. I’m sorry.”
“Yeah, well. Robin actually saved my life, once,” Harry added. “It’s…actually kind of awkward. I mean. Do I tell him?”
“Robin?” Leslie asked.
“Yeah,” Harry said, “well, no. Nightwing, now, I guess.”
“That’s a tough question,” Leslie agreed. “Keeping it quiet might make it hard to work with him, if it makes you feel awkward around him.”
“But on the other hand,” Harry said, “what if he feels, I don’t know. Like I’m asking for something from him. Expecting something.”
“Like what?” Leslie asked.
Harry shrugged. “I have no idea. But if someone told me I saved their life, I would wonder what they wanted from me.”
“Do you want something from him?” Leslie asked.
“I just want to thank him,” Harry said, “but I don’t want to make him uncomfortable about it. So I think maybe I just. Won’t.”
“That’s your choice,” Leslie said, “but I don’t think he’d hold it against you if you said something. He gets thanked all the time.”
“And it doesn’t bother him?” Harry asked.
“I can’t really talk to you about that,” Leslie said, with just a little wink, “but if you ask him, he talks about that kind of thing with his whole team. He’ll talk to you.”
Nightwing walked into Leslie’s office, but Dick walked out of the bathroom a few minutes later, dressed in his own jeans and shirt, and relaxed on her couch. He ran a hand through his hair, and poured himself tea.
“So,” Leslie said, when he just sat, staring for a few moments longer than usual, “new Titan. That’s exciting.”
Dick smiled at her. “Yeah. How’d he seem to you?”
“Not a danger to the team,” Leslie said, with a raised eyebrow.
Dick sighed. “Good.”
“You were worried he might be?” Leslie asked.
“No. Augury – he’s untrained, but he’s trying to do good. His track record is, it’s, you know, it’s what we’re looking for, right? He’s fine.” Dick spun the cup around on the plate. “Or, I mean, his magic is – someone trained him, obviously. On the superhero side, I mean.”
“You’ve got experience filling in that gap, though,” Leslie said.
Dick smiled, but it was tenser than usual. “Yeah, sure. I’m not worried about that.”
“I can’t help if you don’t talk to me, Dick,” Leslie said.
He laughed. “Yeah. That’s always it, isn’t it? My brother won’t talk to me. And I – I don’t know if I did something wrong? Or there’s something he needs from me?”
“Harry or Jason?” Leslie asked.
“Harry,” Dick said. “Jason – I mean, yeah, Jason’s kind of standoffish, but, you know. We talk. But since Harry left for school, he – I mean I expected the amount we talk to go down, but I was sort of used to it, it’s just. It’s been weeks since I heard anything.”
“You’re worried,” she said.
Dick shrugged. “I mean, we looked into the school’s records and stuff. He’s been in class and all. He’s fine. So I shouldn’t worry, right?”
“What did we say about using the Batcomputer to spy on each other?” Leslie said.
Dick sighed. “I know. But I was worried he was, I don’t know, dead or kidnapped or something. I left it alone once I – I mean, I’m not hacking into his socials or anything.”
“We’ve been over this, Dick,” Leslie said, patting his hand. “He needs some space. He’s growing up, you know? He needs time to become his own person.”
“I wish he didn’t need this much space,” Dick said, sloshing tea out of the cup and onto himself. “Fuck. Did I ever tell you how we met?”
“You said he wouldn’t let go of your hand for the entire tour,” Leslie said, “and you only convinced him to stay in his room by promising you’d personally get him for dinner.”
Dick laughed. “Okay. I tell that story a lot.”
“Only when you’re worried about him,” Leslie said.
“I meant,” Dick sighed. “I meant the night I saved him. The night Robin saved him, I mean. Have I – I must have told you that.”
“You’ve mentioned it, certainly,” Leslie said. “I don’t know if you ever gave me the full story. You weren’t seeing me, yet.”
Dick poured more tea into his cup. “It was – it was one of Joker’s massacres. Not a bad one, I guess, as these things go, a few dozen dead, and we think half of those were his men anyway, but it was. Gruesome. I think we only identified three of them, final tally.”
“I can ask Bruce if he’s willing to open up the file for you,” Leslie said softly, “but he’d probably tell you to let it go.”
“I know,” Dick said. “I know. I – he never let me look at the followups, you know? It was just…I was wading through all these mangled bodies, and it was – we found a lot of survivors farther out, but in that final room, by the stage where he had been, it was just – and there was this kid, practically my age, and he – he was alive.”
“So,” Leslie said, “shock, relief, anger, guilt?”
“I don’t know,” Dick said. “I was crying, but it was also – I mean, he was beaten to shit and fucked up on Joker Gas besides. I was more concerned with getting him out of there. I thought it was – I thought he was dead too until he opened his eyes and looked at me and I was just – I said holy shit there’s a survivor into the comms and Bruce didn’t even reprimand me, just told me to bring them out with the others. And he just looked at me and he said Robin? Like he knew I would save him all along.”
“A lot to live up to,” Leslie said.
“It’s not even that,” Dick said. “I mean that’s a scary level of idolization and it really freaked me out on the idea of Robin wholesale. But that was never Harry’s fault. It didn’t have anything to do with that, really, it was like. You know, like someone left a basket on my doorstep. He’s my responsibility. I have to take care of him.”
“Destiny?” Leslie asked.
Dick laughed. “No idea. But it was that way from the beginning, and I think Bruce got it, because he let me keep him. Maybe it’s the same reason he kept me. Or else maybe he just felt guilty for accidentally picking the door without all the dead bodies behind it. He was pretty precious with me for a few months after that. If there’s one thing I can say about him, I don’t think Batman ever intended for me to traipse through that many corpses.”
“And Harry?” Leslie said.
Dick shook his head, sipped his tea. “Bruce has always been precious with Harry. Constantly watching him, second guessing every decision Alfred made about him. Letting him get away with – god, I don’t even know what. Wouldn’t even insult Batman in front of him. Handed him the Wayne name right away.”
“Do you want that?” Leslie asked, “I haven’t heard you mention that before.”
Dick looked up in surprise. “No. No. I like the Grayson name. I want to remember my parents with it. I just wish he’d offered, you know?”
“Have you told him that?” Leslie asked.
Dick laughed. “It hurt, as a kid. But it’s – I think he just knows. The same way he knew all of Harry’s stories were bullshit, that he was just making up what he wished his parents did. I think – don’t tell Bruce –”
“You know I won’t tell Bruce anything,” Leslie said.
Dick rubbed at his mouth. “I think his parents might have been Joker’s people, you know? Sometimes I think the Joker might have done more to him. Personally, I mean. The gas weakens with repeated exposure, for most people. And you didn’t need to be the world’s greatest detective to see him flinch when you tried to hug him.”
Leslie nodded. She’d had this conversation with Bruce already, a few times, and it was almost eerie how closely Dick’s worries were paralleling his. Trained by the Batman, indeed.
“He, um,” Dick shook his head. “He doesn’t like medical treatment, you know? Still doesn’t. Well, probably, I don’t think he’s been seriously hurt since he’s been at school. And sometimes, the – the mood swings, and stuff. I don’t know. He wouldn’t tell us, would he? Something like that – but it would explain why he idolizes Batman and Robin.”
“You still haven’t told him?” Leslie asked.
“I want to,” Dick said, “Bruce says not until he graduates. If he – if he seems like he can keep the secret by then. I don’t know. Honestly, I’m surprised Jason never slipped up around him. It seems like it’ll just be worse the longer we wait.”
“Do you judge your teammates for not telling their families?” Leslie asked.
Dick huffed. “Yes, but it’s not the same thing. This is all of us, everyone but him. Me, Bruce, Jason, even Alfred. It’s not fair. But it’s Batman’s security, you know?”
“And you have to listen to Batman,” Leslie said, calmly, carefully. Neutrally.
Dick’s gaze snapped to hers. “It’s not like that. He knows what he’s doing. He knows when something is dangerous. He’s not trying to hurt Harry.”
“No?” Leslie asked.
“Bruce is trying to protect him,” Dick said, “I am too, I guess. Jason is – I don’t think Jason cares that much, honestly, but he’s been good about it. Harry – I don’t know if he could handle it. The whole secret identity thing. I really don’t know what it would do to his mental health if he found out. So, yeah, maybe wait a couple years. I don’t know.”
“But you don’t want to,” Leslie said.
“It feels like.” Dick crossed his arms. “Like having to hide such a big part of myself, of my life I mean, it’s. It doesn’t feel good. And even if Harry would understand, even if he didn’t feel, I don’t know, betrayed…I don’t like it. Like I’m not allowed to be me, even with family.”
“Do you blame Bruce?” she asked.
“How can I blame him? I get it,” Dick said. “I would do the same thing, in his shoes. I do, for the Titans.”
She nodded. “Because you’re responsible for them.”
Dick sighed and scrubbed at his face. “Yeah, a little bit, I guess. Justice League drops little baskets off at my door all the time, I guess. I know. I know we have to do this for Harry. I see him – I see him broken like that, and I – he knows it, too, I think. And that’s why he’s keeping his distance, maybe. Because I’m not being honest.”
“Do you think it’s dishonest?” Leslie asked.
“I don’t know,” Dick said. “I mean, who has a right to know, why? It could put him in danger not to tell him. But telling him, that could put him in even more danger, on more than one count, so.”
“It’s not always on you to look out for everyone, Dick,” Leslie said.
“I know. I know. Just listen to the Batman,” Dick said, and laughed, and stared at his cup. “I just. I let him make the decision because it’s one less, but is that, is that a cop out? I don’t know. I wish I knew what Harry was thinking.”
Robin slammed the door on the way into the office, yanked down his mask, and refused to sit down. “I told Bruce it wasn’t mine.”
Leslie sighed. “I don’t care if it was yours, Jason, what I care about is what I can do to help. Do you believe me?”
“You should care if it’s mine,” Jason said.
“Why?” Leslie said, and then, at Jason’s expression, raised her hands. “I just mean… explain it to me, Jason. I want to understand.”
“It’s not mine,” Jason said.
“Okay,” said Leslie, nodding at him. “Whose is it?”
Jason slumped into the couch. “You won’t tell Bruce?”
“I won’t,” Leslie agreed.
Jason sighed, and poked at the teapot. “It’s Harry’s.”
“Alright,” Leslie said, and poured some tea for him.
“You believe me?” Jason said, incredulous.
“I do,” Leslie said. “Why did you have Harry’s drugs?”
“Why would you believe me?” Jason said, “why would you believe me that Golden Child Harry, too special to ever put in danger fighting crime, can’t even yell at him for breaking a priceless family heirloom, so spoiled he panics over washing dishes, has drugs?”
“Is that really how you see him?” Leslie asked.
“Wait, Bruce,” Jason said, with a laugh, “Bruce knows about this? Bruce knows Harry is a drug addict, and just lets him –”
Leslie opened her mouth to deflect the line of questioning, when Jason fell silent for a beat, staring at the floor.
“Bruce knows,” Jason said, more softly, “that’s why we’re not supposed to tell him. That’s why everyone’s so careful with him. So he doesn’t. Overdose. Kill himself. Whatever. He – was Harry like me?”
“If you want to know about Harry, you’ll have to ask Harry,” Leslie said, softly. “There are parts of the story Bruce or Dick can tell you, but he might prefer you let him tell you his own side of it. Bruce adopted Harry when he was nine. I’m not comfortable saying more.”
“I didn’t,” Jason said. “I didn’t realize. Some detective, huh?”
“Were you looking for that part of Harry’s life, Jason?” Leslie asked.
Jason shrugged.
“You can’t find what you’re not even searching for,” Leslie said. “Jason. You’re not a bad detective. You’re just still learning.”
“Harry never said,” Jason said, quietly.
“Did you talk about that part of your lives a lot?” Leslie asked.
Jason shrugged again. “I guess not.”
“Are you feeling like he lied to you, or misled you?” Leslie said.
“Do you think he trusts me?” Jason asked.
Leslie smiled. “How did you find his drugs?”
Jason blinked at her. “I know where he keeps them.”
Leslie smiled again. “Because he trusts you, or because you’re a good detective?”
Jason scowled. “Oh, shut up. Yeah, he showed me some of his stashes. And I’ve been spending the time since he visited looking for all the ones he didn’t show me. Okay?”
“Okay,” Leslie said. “why?”
Jason waved his hands in agitation. “Harry, he. Look, he’s fun to get high with, okay? That’s not – I never pretended he wasn’t. But he’s. He’s one of those guys who can’t stop. Only he did stop. And I don’t – I don’t want to make it easy for him to, you know. Slip up.”
“You’re a very empathetic person, Jason,” Leslie said.
Jason glared at her. “I’ve seen the kind of shit addiction can do, okay? So sue me if I don’t want my brother to end up dead because he took one too many pills or got beaten to fuck by his dealer or walked off a roof when he wasn’t paying attention. It doesn’t mean I care.”
“Alright,” said Leslie, gently pushing Jason’s hand down so he could set his cup back down on the table. “It’s a nice thing you’re doing for him, though.”
“Yeah, well,” Jason shrugged, “I can be nice. I know how.”
“Nothing wrong with that,” Leslie agreed.
“I just don’t want him to get hurt,” Jason said.
“I know,” Leslie said. “Your brothers don’t want you to get hurt, either.”
“How would you know?” Jason snapped, “you’ve never even met Harry.”
“That’s true enough. I’m sure he doesn’t, but I know Dick doesn’t want you to get hurt,” Leslie said, pouring Jason more tea.”
“Did he tell you that?” Jason asked.
“He did,” Leslie agreed, “he’s said that many times, actually.”
Jason deflated. “I thought you weren’t supposed to tell me what he talked to you about.”
“Normally, no,” she agreed, “there are some things he mentioned I could talk to you about, if it would help you.”
“You can,” Jason said, through gritted teeth. “You can tell him I – that I don’t want him to get hurt, either. I mean. If he’s wondering.”
“Maybe I will,” she said.
“And you can tell Bruce,” Jason said, staring into his tea. “That I just – that Harry came home clean, and I want him to stay that way. And that’s why I stole all of his drugs. I wasn’t going to use them.”
“Okay,” Leslie said, “I will tell him that.”
“Except the weed. I’m going to smoke the weed,” Jason said. “Only don’t tell Bruce that part. Even though he’s a hypocrite because I’m pretty sure he and Alfred smoke together, actually, so that’s not even fair. I’ve found joints in Dick’s room and he never gets in trouble.”
“Jason,” Leslie said, “we’ve talked about going into other people’s rooms without their permission, haven’t we?”
“What, so now it’s a bad thing I want to keep Harry off heroin?” Jason said.
“That aside,” Leslie said, “remember what I said about boundaries?”
“That it’s a mutual thing and we’ve all got to blah blah blah,” Jason said, “I don’t like it when you make me do family therapy with Dick. He sounds like a textbook.”
“Still. It upsets him when you violate his privacy like that,” she said. “He doesn’t go into your room without your permission, after all.”
“I guess,” Jason said. “What else did he say about me?”
“What?” Leslie asked.
Jason shrugged. “You said Dick said things. And like. He said it was okay if I heard about them. And I. Well, I want to hear about them.”
“Okay,” Leslie said. “Well, he wanted you to know, first off, if you ever asked, that he loves you very much, and he cares about you, and he wants you to stay safe.”
“Ugh. Gay,” Jason said.
“Jason,” Leslie said.
“What?” Jason said, “I didn’t say it about Harry did I? So it’s fine.”
“Jason,” Leslie said again.
Jason rolled his eyes. “Okay, it’s not gay. It’s just a saccharine milquetoast platitude that he thinks is erogatory because the same man happened to adopt us.”
“He also said I could describe the first time he got someone killed,” she added.
Jason grinned. “That sounds more interesting.”
Bruce appeared, as he always did, before Leslie had properly registered that Batman had entered her office. Unlike always, he was wringing the cowl in his hands and refusing to sit down. She poured him some tea anyway.
“Leslie,” Bruce said.
“Bruce,” Leslie said, gesturing for him to sit down, even though he was going to ignore her. Still, he relaxed just the slightest bit.
“I’m going to say something,” Bruce said, “and I know you can’t tell me, but I’m worried I’m going to read it in your body language. So if it’s alright….”
“You can turn around, Bruce,” Leslie said. “Do you need me to bring in the other chair? I’d hate to have you stand for an entire session again.”
“No, it’s – it’s just the one thing,” Bruce said.
“Jason’s okayed me talking to you about the drugs, if that’s it,” Leslie said.
“What?” Bruce said. “Right. Of course. Should we talk about that?”
Leslie stilled a laugh. “Not if there was something else more pressing on your mind.”
“Leslie, I,” Bruce said, and sighed. “I really fucked up when Harry came out to us, didn’t I? I mean, not like, not just handling it poorly. I really…I really fucked up.”
“Why do you say that?” Leslie asked.
“Because, I think,” Bruce tugged the cowl back on over his head, though his voice didn’t drop the way she was half worried it would, “because I think Dick wants to talk about it, and he doesn’t want – and he’s scared to come to me.”
Leslie refrained from tapping her pen against her notepad so Bruce didn’t spend the entire rest of the session trying to interpret it. “Why do you think he’s scared?”
“I wasn’t – I wasn’t supportive of Harry. And he hasn’t mentioned it since, so,” Bruce laughed awkwardly. “I think I shoved him back in the closet. And Dick doesn’t want to say anything because it’ll just make it harder for all of us to pretend it never happened.”
“Are you pretending it never happened, Bruce?” Leslie asked. “I thought you were coming to terms with it.”
“Convince me it’s not my fault, Leslie,” Bruce whispered.
“That Harry’s gay?” Leslie said.
“No, not,” Bruce pulled the cowl off again, fumbling with it, “no, I’ve been working on your, on the affirmations, I – I mean I do still blame myself, but intellectually, I understand I did the best I could with – I know that’s not why anyway.”
“But you haven’t said that to Harry, yet,” Leslie said.
“I don’t think Harry even knows I know,” Bruce said.
“Really?” Leslie said, “you don’t think he put two and two together when the man disappeared? Not once in all this time?”
“He never figured out I’m Batman,” Bruce said.
“That one we’ve been over,” Leslie said. “You’re changing the subject again, Bruce. I don’t talk to Harry, so spit it out.”
“What?” Bruce said, leaning against the back of the sofa.
“World’s greatest detective, and you’re really going to be like that?” Leslie said. “I don’t want you standing there all night. What’s your concern about Dick?”
“I think he might,” Bruce rubbed a hand against his face, “I think he might like men, too, and he thinks I’m going to yell at him over it.”
“Okay,” Leslie said, “and you know I can’t talk about anything he’s told me, or anything he tells me in the future, unless he’s okay with you knowing.”
“Dick isn’t going to use you as an intermediary on this one, I know,” Bruce said, finally sitting down and picking up his tea. “But that isn’t the point.”
“You want to know how to say it without actually saying it,” Leslie said.
Bruce shrugged.
“Just actually say it, Bruce,” Leslie said.
“Harry and I,” Bruce said, “when I call, he’s, he always talks to me. He’s happy to talk to me. You can’t fake body language, expressions, prosody like that. Or, at least, Harry can’t, he’s – he’s never been a good liar. He’s never liked lying. He just…doesn’t.”
“He can love you and still feel hurt, Bruce,” Leslie said softly.
Bruce sighed. “I know.”
“He’ll probably accept your apology if you give him one,” Leslie said.
Bruce sighed more deeply. “I know.”
“I mean, the most straightforward way to do it is just to bring it up in discussion at the next family dinner,” Leslie added.
“Which would be awkward for everyone, not least of all Harry,” Bruce said. “But you know I’m not going to do that, anyway.”
“You have to talk to Harry if you want to put any of this behind you,” Leslie said. “If you don’t want to talk to Dick, just let him see you reading books about it. Essay collections. Parents’ guides. That sort of thing. You know he’ll put the pieces together, Bruce.”
“On the nose,” Bruce said.
“Yes,” Leslie said, “but you want him to know for certain you’re reaching out, don’t you? Is it a problem if he knows you’re doing it on purpose?”
“I don’t know,” Bruce said. “What if he thinks I’m faking?”
“Harry, or Dick?” Leslie asked.
“I don’t know, Leslie,” Bruce said, scrubbing at his face. “I don’t know.”
“Does it still bother you?” Leslie asked.
“It never bothered me,” Bruce said. “But how does he know? He’s – he’s a year and a half sober now, he’s basically, what, eleven, twelve? Emotionally, I mean.”
“Don’t make me psychoanalyze your son for you, Bruce,” Leslie said.
“And I know he – look, objectively, I know that’s old enough for him to know,” Bruce said. “Rationally, I know that. But then, on the other hand – Harry’s a follower, Leslie. He’s complacent. You put him in a room with someone and he just does what he’s told.”
“Does he?” Leslie asked, not bothering to hide her smile this time.
“Little things,” Bruce said, and waved it off. “When it’s important, he’s never second guessed any of us. He’s never done anything twice that would hurt someone, or put them in danger, or even just…bother us. And he always listens when it comes to his safety too, or even just…he’s never argued once over, over, vegetables, or bedtime, or chores.”
“Drugs, though,” Leslie reminded him.
Bruce sighed. “He can’t help that.”
“Alright,” Leslie said.
“He even goes to the doctor without complaining, even though we can see how much it scares him,” Bruce said. “Still keeps up with his schoolwork, his training.”
“His Robin training,” Leslie said, with just a slight disapproving tinge.
“Maybe not a Robin,” Bruce said, “but still, I hope, if, if things go well for him, if he’s well enough…maybe, someday, something?”
“Bruce,” Leslie said, slightly more forcefully.
“Do you think he’s fallen off the wagon?” Bruce said, “do you think that’s why he hasn’t called me, or Alfred, or Dick? I think he called Jason once, and. Well.”
“Jason said it was just the opposite,” Leslie told him.
“Jason’s fallen off the wagon?” Bruce said.
“No,” Leslie told him, “Jason’s trying to keep Harry on track by cleaning out all his stashes. I think it’s rather sweet of him.”
“Alfred’s been trying to do that, too,” Bruce said. “I – I don’t want to help. I don’t want to…psychoanalyze him, like you said. Or set the computer to scan through all the footage since he’s lived at home. It’s – it feels invasive. But maybe that’s – am I wrong? Am I risking my son’s life just because it makes me uncomfortable?”
“I think maybe you should have Harry see someone,” Leslie said, “just to help him deal with issues before they appear. But, no. Boundaries between Batman and your family are healthy, Bruce. Just be there as his dad.”
“He had a few therapists as a kid,” Bruce said. “I got the impression they didn’t help because he wasn’t willing to explain his story to them.”
“There’s a lot of misery in his past. How long did it take you to open up to me?” Leslie said, and squeezed his hand.
“Jason’s really covering for Harry?” Bruce said.
“Do you think it’s out of character?” Leslie asked.
“No, it’s very in character,” Bruce said. “You could see that even back when he was trying to kneecap me for my tires. It’s just. He has to know we know. He can’t – he’s not that bad of a detective. He can’t assume we just missed Harry being high near constantly for years, storing drug paraphernalia all over the house.”
“No, Bruce, what have we said about positive phrasing?” Leslie said. “I’m going to bring the two of you back in together. It’s been too long.”
“You’re right. I’m sorry. That’s.” Bruce took a deep breath. “Jason is a good detective. He’s working hard, and he’s learning. He’s trying his best, and that’s all we can ask of ourselves and each other.”
“It’s easy to miss things, with family,” Leslie said. “Sometimes when you’re too close to it, emotions cloud your judgement.”
“Is this about me yelling at Harry again?” Bruce asked.
“No,” Leslie said, “this is about you not giving your youngest son enough compliments. How is he supposed to thrive in his brothers’ shadow?”
Bruce opened his mouth to speak, then closed it. “I want to say something vaguely insulting about Harry. It’s not his fault, though. It never was.”
“It’s good you recognized the impulse,” Leslie said. “Now, what are you supposed to remind yourself about Harry?”
“What we do is too much to expect from most people,” Bruce said. “It sounds strange when you make me say it out loud. Like you’re putting words in my mouth.”
“Say it until it feels right, then, Bruce,” Leslie said, “because you’re going to have to convince Harry of it when the time comes. It has the benefit of being true.”
“It feels like,” Bruce said, “it feels like it could be true, and I believe it when I say it in my head, but spoken like that…it doesn’t feel true.”
Leslie sighed. “Find something that does feel true, then.”
“There are plenty of jobs out there in the daylight that help people,” Bruce said. “Harry has a kind heart. He’ll find one.”
Leslie smiled at him. “You know, it used to take you an entire session to come up with a compliment for Dick.”
“It couldn’t,” Bruce said, “Dick’s always been just shy of perfect. He basically parented himself. He practically parented Harry.”
“Mm,” Leslie said. “Now Jason.”
Bruce sighed. “Jason’s better than I was at his age. At everything. He doesn’t see it, but he’s – he notices more. He puts things together faster. He’s very good at kicking, too.”
“Good,” Leslie said, “tell him that.”