The Small Ghost

XXVII

Dick's feet padded softly on the floor as he walked into the kitchen. Cereal clinked against the ceramic bowl as he hid a yawn behind his hand. Rubbing his eyes, Dick poured in some milk before trudging into the nearest living room. Alfred would have his head if he ever found out he wasn't eating at the table, though he had a feeling the butler always knew. 

The cereal crunched in his mouth, sounding loud in his ears as he crossed his legs on the leather couch. Dick grabbed the remote and switched the TV on, surfing through the early-morning commercials. 

"...Batman has brought in a man by the name of Ren Wilder..." 

The bowl crashed to the floor but it only registered as white noise as Dick jumped up from the couch. With shaking hands he turned the volume up, trying to hear the news report through the cacophony in his head. 

"That's right. Seemingly nobody, Ren Wilder was brought into custody by the Dark Knight late last night. The man was beaten within an inch of his life and is stationed in Gotham General Hospital with 24/7 watch, per Batman's orders. I would hate to know what the poor guy deserved to be injured by the vigilante. Has Batman finally lost it? Has he showed his true-"

Dick stood unseeing when the TV flicked off, not moving an inch in the hope that it was a dream. Ren was... he was...

"You shouldn't have seen that," a deep voice cut through the white noise. 

"Y-You-"

"I did," Bruce said as he took a step closer. 

Dick regained enough feeling in his limbs to turn around to his guardian. "I only told you two days ago. You worked that hard...for me?" 

Bruce blinked. "Of course."

Dick's face scrunched up and he could feel tears coming. He fell to the ground, hugging himself as he cried. He burrowed in the warmth that enveloped him, half aware that it was Bruce who was hugging him. Bruce cared. He cared enough to at least catch the guy after so long. Dick almost smiled through his tears if he wasn't capable of thought. His mood darkened and fear gripped him like a vise. 

"B-Bruce, am I going to have to-"

"Yes," he confirmed. "But I'll be there, and Alfred and Timmy. I don't think Wally would even let you go without him. Try not to worry, Dick. Everyone you'll need will be there, you don't even have to ask. The trial could happen in weeks, you'll be prepared."

"How do I know?" Dick whispered. He picked his head up, blinking rapidly through his tears. "How do I know you'll be there? Promise me. Promise me you'll be there."

Bruce's lips set a grim line. "I don't know if I can promise th-"

"Promise!" Dick shouted, fist raining on Bruce's chest as he screamed. "Promise! Promise! Promise! Pro-"

"Alright! I promise I'll be at the trial, Dick." Bruce said lowly, his voice cutting under Dick's screams. 

Dick gripped the man's wifebeater as more tears pushed themselves out of his eyes. "T-Thank you, Bruce. Just so you know, I'm holding you to that."

"I would think nothing else, Dick. Let's get you up and ready for the day." Bruce glanced at the shiny watch on his wrist. "You'll be late for school."

Dick stiffened. "Can't I take a mental health day?"

"Didn't you have enough of those? I don't want you falling behind," Bruce said as they stood. 

"Alfred could help keep me on track. Please, Bruce?" Dick begged. 

"I do hope I'm not hearing myself be obligated to something I was never asked to do." Alfred walked into the room, blue eyes flicking to the spill before Dick could cover it up. Dick hung his head and blushed, worrying his teeth between his lip as he quickly bent down to pick up the broken ceramic. HIs hands were trembling and he scrubbed at his eyes so hard it felt like they were on fire. A single white glove settled on the boy's hand and he froze.