This On Ao3

This on ao3

There is someone in Duke’s room.

He’s in bed and had the bad luck of waking up facing the wall. He’s sure there’s someone in the space by his window but he doesn’t think he can turn over to try and get a glimpse of them without making it obvious that he’s awake.

“It’s obvious that you’re awake.” a voice calls from the space by Duke’s window.

Well never mind, Duke thinks, then, wait.

Duke knows that voice. He knows that voice significantly better than he wishes he did.

“Dad?” Fuck, he hadn’t meant to say that. That is not his Dad stood by the window.

Duke sits up and turns sees to Gnomon looking annoyingly pleased at the term of address. “Who else would it be?”

“What do you want?” he snarls, the effect likely ruined by the blanket still pulled up to his chest.

Gnomon tilts his head. “The question is more what do you want.” Duke is about to cut in with the fact that the answer is absolutely nothing before Gnomon continues. “There’s something you want to ask me.”

Oh. Duke hadn’t been expecting that. The problem is that he’s right, and Duke is possibly more annoyed about that than the man breaking into his room in the first place.

Duke sighs and comes to the conclusion that there’s really very little he can do about Gnomon being here. He may as well ask the question if the man is in a sharing mood today. “Am I going to die?” he asks.

Gnomon smiles, sharp and cruel and pleased, “No.” he says, and disappears into the shadows until Duke is alone.

Shit. That was the answer he had been hoping against.

~

Gotham is a city that shifts. It’s a city so heavy with cruelty that it crushes itself constantly, never able to settle into one shape or the other before something crumbles and it has to rearrange itself all over again.

It is not a city built with immortality in mind.

Duke wonders if he should leave one day. If forcing a level of change onto his life might make the rest of his existence endurable.

Jason laughs when he mentions these thoughts, loud and brash and maybe a little angry. The noise grates on Duke’s nerves and it makes him glad that he didn’t mention that the rest of his existence might be forever. “This city has had its claws in you all your life kid. You think it’s going to let go now?”

“Now?” Duke asks, hoping his calm might balance out Jason’s agitation. “What’s different about now.”

“You’re one of us now.” Jason cackles. He slaps his arm around Duke’s shoulders and the overfamiliarity of the gesture makes him tense up. He wonders if Jason is drunk right now. “You ever hear about a bat leaving Gotham for long and surviving?”

“You ever hear about a bat surviving Gotham for long?” Duke snaps. He had kind of hoped that it would make Jason back off with his crazed eyes and too loud laugh but it just sets him off again.

Jason wipes some dampness from the corner of his eyes. “You’re a riot, kid.” he says before leaving, despite the fact that Duke has said literally nothing funny this whole conversation.

Definitely drunk, he concludes, before deciding never to talk to any of the bats about leaving ever again.

~

After his talk with Jason, Duke starts having nightmares about how tangled he is in this city.

He’ll be running over rooftops just like every bat before him has and every bat after him will. He’ll be running and the rooftops will start shifting beneath his feet. It makes sense, at least within the dream. Duke will last forever and it’s clear that Gotham won’t so it’s only to be expected that at some point the ground that’s held him up all his life will be forced to crumble beneath his feet.

Duke is running over rooftops and things start shifting. At some point he trips as the ground sags beneath the weight he carries on his shoulders. The floor twists around him then, parts of it melting away like quicksand while the rest takes on a life of its own and wraps around Duke’s waist, trapping him so that he can’t get up and keep running.

Then what he was running from arrives.

They’re the same gargoyles that he was taught to sit among by the other bats. The same gargoyles he’ll nod hello to if he’s in a good mood and listening to the right music, feeling far more at home than he should in a place that haunts him so deeply. Only now the faces of the gargoyles are twisted into something even angrier than what they were carved to be. They screech and wail as they fly up to Duke’s trapped body and sink their talons into him, all for the sake of burying Gotham as deep into his flesh as possible.

Those dreams never end with Duke dying. He understands why.

~

Duke looks at Bruce differently now.

He knows Bruce can tell. Bruce can see that Duke doesn’t see something that verges on the otherworldly when he looks at Batman anymore. He just sees a man.

Duke thinks it might break Bruce’s heart a bit, but he understands that it isn’t for the wrong reasons. With all his other children things only started to go wrong when they stopped looking at him like the only thing between Gotham and oblivion. When they started to care more that he was a mediocre father and less that he was a perfect superhero.

“I’m not going to start hating you.” Duke tells him one night on patrol, because he thinks it might be something that needs to be said.

Bruce gives a sad half-smile. “I know. I just worry sometimes.” He pauses. “You haven’t been sleeping well.” he states.

“No.” Duke thinks for a moment about how Bruce has lived in Gotham for longer than anyone else he can talk to who knows enough about death that he might care about their answer. “You ever think about how you’ll be here forever?” he asks.

That sad half-smile stays glued to Bruce’s face. “All the time.” he answers, looking out across Gotham’s skyline with an expression that could only be described as grief.

Duke nods in understanding, it’s the same answer he would give.