Chapter Text
Eight Weeks Pregnant
"Easy there, chum," Bruce says as he helps Dick slowly walk down the hallway to the library.
Dick had spent the night in the med bay on both Bruce and Alfred's orders—especially after ripping his stitches once already. Alfred had given him benzocaine spray for his privates, more arnica cream for his bruises, and stocked his en-suite bathroom in his room with extra supplies.
Bruce had called a Pack Meeting to discuss—well, everything. Dick's been trying not to feel embarrassment or shame when someone discusses his injuries and pregnancy. Oddly enough, the pain helps, but Dick doesn't want to dwell on that too much.
Between the bruises and stitches, Bruce tried to get Dick to use a wheelchair to navigate the manor, but Dick had refused. Honestly, Bruce is lucky enough that he's letting the man walk with him now. And he did agree to use the elevators instead of the stairs for the time being.
Jason's in the library waiting for them.
"Dick," Jason breathes out, standing up from an armchair. He walks over and helps Bruce guide Dick into one of the leather couches.
Jason crouches in front of him and offers Dick his wrist. Dick scents him and tries not to cry as frankincense and black pepper fill his nose.
"Jay," Dick says wetly. There's so many things he wants to say, but nothing else comes out.
Jason nods, somehow understanding, "What do you need?"
Dick inhales the Alpha scent again. "Can I have your hoodie?"
Jason immediately takes off the garment and hands it to Dick. He helps Dick put it on, minding his arms, and pulls the fabric down his back.
"Anything else, sweetheart?" Bruce asks from the other side of the couch.
"Blanket?"
"Coming right up."
Bruce grabs a blanket from the basket in the back corner of the library, by the fireplace. He scents it quickly then drapes it over Dick's lap.
Jason and Bruce sit down on either side of him and tuck the blanket in.
It's only then, swaddled in their Pack Alpha and Omega scents, that he lets the tears fall.
"Hey," Jason croons, grabbing one of Dick's hands with his own. "It's okay. We're here now."
"Jason's been fully briefed," Bruce says quietly, answering the question Dick couldn't ask. Shame floods through him, but he's also thankful he doesn't have to retell anything. He doesn't think he could right now.
"I'm assuming I'm benched indefinitely," Dick says, sniffling and rubbing his nose with his free hand.
"Yeah," Jason huffs. "But don't worry. We already made an adjusted schedule for coverage."
"Dick," Bruce starts, but Dick cuts him off with a nod, already knowing what Bruce is going to ask.
He wants to advocate for his independence, but after the last six weeks, he really doesn't want to be too far away from his pack. So he says quietly, "I'll move back in."
"Oh," Bruce replies, clearly not anticipating for it to be that easy. "Okay."
"Could we…" Dick fiddles with the string of Jason's hoodie, "convert one of the guest rooms into a nursery?"
"Of course, sweetheart," Bruce breathes out, rubbing a hand on Dick's back. "Of course we will."
"Can you believe you're gonna be a grandparent, old man?" Jason dryly asks. "Gonna stop dyeing your gray hairs to complete the look?"
"Jason."
Dick laughs, appreciating that Jason is trying to lighten the mood. He's about to ruin it, though. He pulls his right hand free from Jason and gently rests it on his stomach. "I need to tell him."
Jason growls. "You don't have to. You don't ever have to be in the same room again if you don't want to."
As appealing as that is, Dick shakes his head. "The baby's half-Kryptonian, Jay."
A beat passes, then Jason seemingly understands the implication. "Oh shit."
"I'm gonna need Conner and Jon," Dick continues, "and… and him, to help with that."
Jason lets out a whistle. "It's a good thing you're not afraid of heights."
"I can facilitate the initial meeting," Bruce says.
Dick turns to look at Bruce when something else clicks in his own mind. Clark—Dick whines internally at the name—is Bruce's best friend. Knowing that a version of your best friend raped your child repeatedly and impregnated them, that's got to be tarnishing Bruce's opinion of the man, even if this version is completely innocent-
"Hey," Bruce says, pulling Dick out of his thoughts. "Deep breaths for me. There we go."
"Mom," Dick gasps, trying to slow his breathing. "I'm so so-"
Bruce coos, continuing to rub Dick's back. "None of that right now. You and the baby are the priority. You don't have to worry about me."
"Okay." He lets Jason's rumbling and Bruce's purrs wash over him for a few moments, then continues what he had wanted to say. "I think I should tell him as soon as possible."
"Are you sure?" Jason asks. "You don't need to rush this. It's literally been a day."
"I know," Dick replies. "But I don't want him to accidentally hear something."
Neither of them have a counterargument. Dick wishes he wasn't right—not that he was listening in per se, but they were running the risk every time they talk about it. "I need to be the one to tell him."
A wave of nausea rolls through Dick's stomach. He shifts his legs, leaning more into Jason, and lets the bruise stings fade before he continues. "Was there anything else on the agenda?"
"One more thing," Bruce says, "but we can take a break."
Dick shakes his head. "If I vomit, I'm not coming back."
"Alright, let me text Tim."
Oh right, the two missing elephants in the room. Dick tries not to stiffen at the thought of seeing Damian again—and that just makes the shame rise. He logically knows that his Damian is not the one who, albeit unwillingly, participated in hurting him.
But with Dick moving back into the manor, his needs to get a grip. It's not like he can avoid Damian forever, nor does he want to. He really doesn't want to.
Jason wraps his arm around Dick's shoulder. "Bruce and Timbo's been brainstorming."
"Based on what Tim recalled and what you told me," Bruce says, "we inferred that it was Damian's scent that's the biggest trigger, not necessarily his face."
Given the age difference between the two versions, that makes sense to Dick.
"Are you sure you're up for testing it?" Bruce asks. "I don't want to push you into something you're not ready for."
"How much does he know?"
"Everything, chum."
Dick's heart aches at the thought.
knock knock.
Dick turns and sees Tim in the doorway. He sighs and says, "Let's do it."
He takes a deep breath. This is silly. He should be able to handle being in the same room as his little brother without having a panic attack.
Damian slowly walks into the room behind Tim. He's wearing too-big sweatpants and a hoodie with the hood pulled tightly on his head.
Dick brings his knees to his chest, wincing from the movement as he does. He can do this. He has to.
Instead of the usual honey and clove lingering around the pup, Dick just scents more frankincense, rose, and anise from the others.
Dick looks over at Tim, not trusting that he could look Damian in the eyes just yet. "You're burying his scent."
"Scent blockers and scented clothes from others," Tim confirms.
Dick tenses and tries to focus on the physical differences between his Damian and the other one—this Damian is so much smaller, being only ten years old. Damian slowly walks over to the opposite couch, limbs stiff yet exaggerated.
Tears prick at the corner of Dick's eyes. Damian's making every movement obvious, for him—and that just breaks the fragile resolve holding him together.
"Damian," Dick keens, finally meeting the pup's eyes with his own. "I'm so sorry."
"Richard, do not apologize," Damian replies sternly. "It is entirely my fault."
"Dami, no," Dick whines, "it's not. It's not."
"Breathe," Jason whispers in his ear. "Deep breaths."
"It's helping," Dick says, a wheeze escaping with it. "The scent blockers are helping."
"Dick," Bruce says, leaning in. "We can stop for now. It's okay."
"No," he whimpers back, eyes still on Damian's neutral face—but there's a slight tension in the pup's jaw.
Dick wishes he could just walk right over to the pup and wrap him in a tight hug. He can't. Not yet.
He hates that he has to work back up to what he and Damian had before all of this. And god, he's going to have to do this again with Clark, too, like some kind of desensitization training.
Damian's going to have to wear scent blockers in his own home until Dick can tolerate it. A wave of nausea rushes through him, this time too much to ignore.
"Jason," Dick mumbles as a cold shiver runs up his spine. "Bathroom. Help."
"Meeting adjourned," Jason claps his hands and stands up. "C'mon, Goldie. Let's get you to a toilet."
— — —
Nine Weeks Pregnant
A week later, Dick has to face his next fear.
Bruce had strongly encouraged him to see a therapist before telling Clark, but Dick just can't wait any longer. He has to be the one to tell Clark, to have some control over this whole situation.
And Dick had agreed to start therapy, and had already let Bruce set up the appointment, scheduled for a few weeks from now.
Dick and Bruce sit in the medical bay down in the Batcave. Dick had opted for a neutral setting, somewhere familiar to him, but not too personal. And being in the med bay meant he got an updated sonogram photo.
Dick tucks the photo under the pillow on the cot, just to stop his hands from shaking.
"Okay, sweetheart," Bruce says and hands him a tablet. "Let's read it over one more time."
Meet downstairs. Civilian clothes and scent blockers. Urgent but not emergency.
Dick nods. "Yeah, that's good."
Bruce presses a kiss to Dick's forehead. "Okay. I'll go meet him in the main bay, then bring him here. You sure you're okay to wait by yourself?"
Dick nods and hops up onto the medical cot. "I'll be fine."
He watches Bruce exit the room, leaving the door open. To distract himself, Dick pulls out his phone. He shoots off a few text replies, and tries not to feel guilty about dodging Donna and Wally. They'd wanted to see him in person, but they would immediately know something was… different. And he's not ready to tell them about the baby. Not yet.
He shifts on the cot, trying to get comfortable. The bruises have been slowly fading, but the reminding stings are still there.
Dick hears two voices approach the med bay. He quickly looks down at their shoes to avoid their faces.
Bruce enters first, then turns around to stop Clark in the doorway.
"Clark, you need to stay right there. Don't come any closer, okay?"
"Okay," Clark replies hesitantly. Dick watches Clark's feet to make sure he doesn't move, and Dick doesn't dare look up any farther.
Bruce pushes a wheeling stool towards the other man. "You might want to sit down."
The stool squeaks from the added weight. "What's going on?"
Bruce walks over to the cot and sits down next to Dick, wrapping his arm around him. "Okay, sweetheart. Whenever you're ready."
Dick takes a shaky breath but doesn't look up from the floor. He's thankful he can't smell the Alpha in front of him.
"Dick, is everything okay?" Clark asks.
Dick flinches and closes his eyes. The voice is the same, but the tone is all wrong. Kal never sounded this concerned for his well-being. It's all wrong. His Omega keens for the Alpha, the sire of his baby. Dick can't smell him, but his Omega knows that it's him. Why won't the Alpha come closer?
Dick leans into Bruce's hold and whimpers out, "Mom, I can't-"
"Shh, it's okay," Bruce says, tucking Dick's face against his chest. "Do you want me to start?"
He's pathetic, poisonous, numb. It's all his fault. He lets out another keen, not trusting his voice or what his Omega might do.
"As you know," Bruce starts, voice dangerously close to crossing into Batman territory, "Dick went missing about seven weeks ago, through a dimensional portal. Last week, we were finally able to recover him."
"Yeah, I read the report," Clark responds. "But I can see bruises and a burn on his neck. Those weren't in the report."
"There's a reason the report was heavily redacted." Bruce runs his fingers through Dick's hair.
"Clark, I-" Bruce sighs and continues. "It's bad. He was held captive for six weeks by your counterpart in that universe. Dick was physically and sexually assaulted, repeatedly, by him."
Dick focuses on his breathing and lets the leather and anise fill his lungs. He doesn't belong to the Alpha in front of him, regardless of what his Omega thinks.
"What?" Clark gasps. "A version of me?"
"Yes. I can send you a less-redacted version of the report, if you'd like."
"I… Okay."
"After we rescued Dick," Bruce continues, "that universe's Justice League took Kal—as he preferred to be called—into custody, and he will be punished for his crimes. He can't hurt Dick again."
"Oh my gosh," Clark whispers. "Dick, I'm so sorry."
Dick whines.
"Because he was in heat at the time of his capture, the multiple instances of rape led to-"
"I'm pregnant," Dick whispers as he pulls away from Bruce's chest.
Bruce squeezes Dick's shoulder. "He's keeping the baby. And I respect his decision. We just wanted to inform you because technically—genetically—you're the sire, too."
"Oh," Clark inhales sharply and starts to push up from the stool. "Oh-"
Dick flinches back, pulling his legs up onto the cot. "Please, no-"
"Clark," Bruce hisses, holding his arm out. "Sit down. Now."
Clark does, and Dick and Clark finally make eye contact. Panic threatens to boil over as he looks into those too-familiar eyes, but Dick tries to shove it down. He needs to say this. He can do it. He has to.
"I don't, like, expect anything from you," Dick whispers. "They're not your responsibility. I just want them to get to know Conner, and Jon, and- and you. Since they'll be half-Kryptonian."
"We can also provide a paternity test, if desired," Bruce adds.
"No," Clark says hurriedly. His eyes are now rimmed red, noticeable even behind his glasses. "No, I believe you. I- um, now that I know what to look for, I can smell it. And feel it."
Does Clark feel the pull for him in the same way? Dick instinctively rests a hand against his stomach.
"Bruce, Dick," Clark says wetly, "I don't know what to-"
"I know," Bruce cuts him off. "We'll talk later. For now, until Dick says otherwise, I will facilitate any contact between the two of you, and be the one to forward all of the medical information. And we ask that you don't share this information with anyone else just yet."
"Okay."
"Oh," Dick says and reaches under the pillow. "Um, I wanted to give you this."
His shaking hands pass the photo to Bruce, who leans forward to hand it to Clark.
Clark looks down at the sonogram and wipes at his cheek. "Whatever I can do to help, please let me know. Anything."
"We will," Bruce responds. "I'll walk you out, just give us a second."
Clark stands and turns to leave. He opens his mouth, as if to say something, then shakes his head and walks away.
Bruce slides off the cot and crouches in front of Dick. "I'm so proud of you."
Dick bursts into tears. For a fleeting moment, he wonders if he's doing the right thing. When he closes his eyes, all he can see is Kal.
Bruce moves his wrists to scent him. "Let me say goodbye to him, and then we can go up to the nest. How does that sound?"
Dick nods, his throat too tight to answer, and rubs his eyes with his hands. The image of Clark distressed and clutching the photo of their child burns into his brain.