TITLE: A muggy British isle

AUTHOR: Demon Faith

FANDOM: DC Comics

PAIRING: Bruce/Dick

RATING: PG

WARNINGS: Sap

SUMMARY: You often get The Sign when you’re avoiding the issue entirely

DISCLAIMER: I own not and I really doubt this would happen.

AUTHOR’S NOTES: Whilst on holiday, I took a photo. In fact, I took many but this one was special. It was special because it was an unexpected sight. It caught me by surprise and I laughed out loud before taking the picture. My boyfriend is still confused. I’m sure you won’t be.

He wasn’t quite sure how he’d ended up there, really. Wandering aimlessly across continents was *his* thing, not Dick’s. What he did know was that he’d never been smiled at by so many old ladies in his life.

It was mid-June and he’d been gone for a month. He didn’t know if he’d been missed, but he’d left a note for Tim – gone fishing, water the plant, watch my city – before hailing a cab to the airport. Once there, he picked the flight at the top of the list – London Heathrow - paid cash, flew Economy and sat in the airport for ten hours, deliberately not thinking.

He’d run away. Left his responsibilities, his family and his friends. And for what? An airport in England.

He would be found, of course, but he could stall for time. He had no phone, no laptop, none of his specialist equipment, nothing traceable. He’d emptied his bank account and left his trust fund, a symbol. It would be understood. He hoped it hurt.

Stumbling out of the terminal, he caught the first bus he saw. The driver wasn’t happy about his lack of ticket but accepted the tip graciously in the end. He continued checking his invisibility carefully – the plane was easy enough to trace but from there, he was free. His description wasn’t startling and who would look that hard? *He* wouldn’t, certainly. Why would he?

The bus stopped outside a railway station in a place called Reading. He decided his previous method was a good one and caught the train at the top of the list. He needed to move further away from the big cities and into the towns. It was easy to hide if you really didn’t want to be found, and he needed space.

Another bus outside a railway station and this one was going to a quay. He liked the sound of that – open water, a boat. Another untraceable piece of transport.

He wasn’t entirely sure where he was going but geography has never been his strong point, and especially not obscure British islands. He was charmed instantly, he found, and it surprised him. He was determined to be melancholy and angry and distraught, but he found himself smiling as he once more caught a bus, then another before wandering along a beach as the sun set.

It was beautiful, breathtaking even, but he was filled with a sudden and unexpected loneliness, an aching in his heart. Angry at himself, he ran uphill until he was completely breathless. In front of him was a quaint little hotel and he took a room gratefully, spreading himself over the double bed and trying not to think about how empty it felt anyway.

He spent his days at the beach, watching the waves and considering his options. Going back never entered his head because he didn’t want it to. That would be too much like defeat, like letting *him* win.

For a long, long month, nothing happened. His life was on hold and he was no closer to reaching any kind of decision on his future. He ran four miles each day and cartwheeled along the beach at midnight, but he didn’t really know why. And what was he good at, after all? What was it possible for him to do?

He was an acrobat and a detective, a policeman and a vigilante. He specialised in catching criminals from both sides of the law, and perhaps that was his all. What if he had nothing else to offer the world? He wasn’t an artist or a scientist – studying bored him and he wasn’t sure he could perfect a trade. So, what was left?

Frustrated, he decided to try a change of scenery. He caught a bus until he came to a pretty little village, where there were flowers and scones and paintings. One haunting image of a woman staring across New York would never leave him as much as he tried to erase it from his mind.

When it began to rain, he pulled his old coat tighter around him and kept wandering. Cheerful colours caught his eye and he was drawn to a little model village. He briefly entertained the idea of building one himself but dismissed it quickly, forgetting his future in favour of the present. The detail on the houses was impressive and he bent closer to examine the strands of thatch in their roofs.

That’s when he saw it.

For an instant, his heart stopped beating as he stared at the bold blue house. How…why…

That didn’t matter, really. And he touched at the words with reverent fingers, whispering them under his breath.

That’s what he’d been trying to escape, to forget about, to run from. He wasn’t just an acrobat and a vigilante – he belonged to Bruce Wayne. He kept Bruce alive; whether either of them could admit that or not, it was truth.

Bruce needed him. Yes, he was an idiot and wrong and stupid but Dick loved the miserable fool. That’s what mattered, that’s where his future lay.

And the sun came out.