A fragment from my Batman story, Claire.(未來會有中文版)
An alternate thread—one where she never walked into their lives.
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22Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡoUbIqRkaPf
The Day He Came Back
The skies over Blüdhaven were always a lighter shade of gray than Gotham’s—but still just as damp and cold, like the city itself was mulling over something it wasn’t ready to say out loud.
Nightwing hadn’t picked up any distress calls tonight, yet there he was, standing outside a fast-food joint about to close, staring at a familiar figure crouched beside the vending machine.
A kid in a red and yellow cape was frowning, clearly trying—and failing—to shove a few coins into the slot. All in the wrong direction.
Nightwing blinked, then slowly walked over.
“…What are you doing?”
The boy looked up, shocked.
“Bro?”
“…What are you doing in Blüdhaven?”
Jason scrambled to his feet, brushing dust off his knees.
“I—I’m fine! I just…” he stammered, clearly unprepared for the question, “I just wanted to ask you something.”
“So you ran to another city, in your Robin suit, thirty kilometers out, to ask me one thing?” Nightwing raised a brow.
Jason stared down, muttering, “Next month’s a public holiday… I just wanted to ask if you were coming home.”
Nightwing paused. That “coming home” hit harder than expected—for such a soft-spoken line.
“…How’d you even find out where I live?”
“…I followed you a few times…” Jason mumbled, “I’m not an idiot.”
Nightwing sighed and ruffled his messy hair.
“You got lost, didn’t you.”
“I did not!”
“Where’s your phone?”
“Dead.”
“Comm?”
“…Forgot it.”
Nightwing was silent for a beat, then glanced at the glowing fast-food sign.
“You had dinner yet?”
“Not yet—I was gonna ask you and then—”
“C’mon. Burgers.”
He didn’t wait for an answer. Inside, the two of them ordered combo meals and sat by the window. Nightwing wiped some random smudge off Jason’s cheek with a napkin while the boy hoarded all the fries onto his plate.
“I was serious, y’know,” Jason said between bites. “We could all go back, eat together. Like… before.”
“You know I’m not talking to Bruce.”
“You could talk to him,” Jason said. “Would you think about it… if I asked?”
Nightwing stared at his soda. After a moment, he replied:
“I’ll think about it.”
It wasn’t a yes, but it was enough. Jason grinned, then nudged the remaining fries back to Nightwing as a silent thank-you.
A few minutes later, a low engine rumble echoed from outside.
Nightwing looked out the window and saw that car—black, familiar, impossible to miss—pull up across the street.
Bruce got out, standing in the rain, his expression caught somewhere between rage and restraint.
“…Busted,” Nightwing muttered, patting Jason’s shoulder.
“How the hell did he find me so fast?” Jason’s face was pure dread.
“I’m guessing he bugged your cape.”
Jason: “Damn it.”
He stood up, headed for the door, then turned back. His voice was soft, but dead serious.
“You’ll remember the holiday, right?”
Nightwing nodded. “I will.”
“…Then I’ll be waiting. At home.”
Nightwing didn’t respond. He just watched the red-and-yellow cape vanish into the night.
The wind still carried the smell of fryer grease… and a hint of ketchup sweetness.
He glanced at the half-finished Coke Jason had left on the table.
And for some reason, he kind of wished he’d ordered dessert.
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