Just tweaking canon a bit...
Thank you, Djinn, for the beta.
Lineage
by DC Lady
Prologue
"Who Is Dick Grayson"
Dick stared at the schematics of the new commercial airliner on his desk, his
pet project since he’d started this job. But his mind was elsewhere.
“Mr. Grayson?”
He looked up, wondered how many times she’d said his name. He shouldn’t have
allowed himself to get distracted, but he needed to think. “Yes?”
“I’m sorry to interrupt, but these came by courier from Wayne Enterprises.
They need your signature.”
“Thank you, Cindy.”
Dick took the large envelope and emptied the stack of papers inside onto his
desk. He grabbed the yellow post-it note stuck on the top.
“I need to see you. B.”
How convenient that he would want to talk now.
Dick had known that working at Wayne Enterprises could pose a problem, even
if it was a subsidiary company located in New York City. It was still Bruce’s
company. Was he a fool to listen to Bruce and believe that the company was his,
too? He’d fought the idea for a long time. But since the adoption, and the mess
he’d made of his life in Bludhaven, he was allowing himself believe it.
He thumbed through the pages, signing the areas indicated with tabs, than
sank down into his chair, thinking…remembering.
“As my heir, you need to learn the ins and outs of the company. Even if
you decide not to establish a career within Wayne Enterprises, you need to be
more familiar with its activities in order to oversee its interests.”
Bruce’s heir. Or just another way to control Dick?
“There needs to be a contingency plan in case anything should happen to
me. You’re it.”
“And if I say no?”
Bruce smirked. “Then you’d miss out on testing some pretty amazing birds.”
“Birds? You’d send me to New York? To Wayne Aeronautics?”
“I don’t see why you can’t have fun while you learn the ropes.”
And oh how he had been having fun. He got to fly, both as Dick Grayson and
Nightwing. His life finally seemed to be back on track. New York City certainly
wasn’t Bludhaven, but there was plenty for a vigilante to sink his teeth into.
But then, Dick was offered membership consideration in the Justice League.
And Bruce got scared. And controlling. And they argued.
“You don’t have the time to devote to the League.”
“That’s for me to determine.”
“Not as long as you work for me.”
“For you? Is that the real reason you wanted me at WE? To control me?”
“Clark shouldn’t have made the offer before consulting with me.”
“From what I understand, you’re not on the League’s recruitment board. And
I can make this decision on my own.”
“I don’t want you to join and that’s final.”
“This isn’t about what you want.”
“It won’t happen. Not in this lifetime.”
Dick had walked away, no longer willing to fall back into the all too
familiar routine that he and Bruce seemed intent on playing out again and again.
He was an adult and he was determined to behave as one. Even with Bruce.
He checked his watch. Bruce should be home by now.
He walked to the door, grabbed his jacket and went home to change. Nightwing
was going to Gotham.
Membership in the Justice League was not to be taken lightly, especially by
members who didn’t have special powers to fight the foes that usually attracted
the League. Bruce knew this all too well. So did Dick. But he was afraid for
Dick, nonetheless. And as usual, he’d let that fear drive his son away.
Bruce heard the unmistakable sound of Dick’s motorcycle and looked up to see
his son enter the main cavern of the cave. “You came.”
Dick dismounted the bike, took off his helmet, and placed it on the seat.
“You asked to see me. Is there a reason that I shouldn’t have come?”
“After last night…”
“We had a difference of opinion, Bruce. That shouldn’t change our
relationship. Unless we let it.”
Bruce pulled the cowl from his head. Even though what he had to say was
between Batman and Nightwing, he needed to do this as Bruce Wayne. He owed Dick
that much.
“I’m going to the Watchtower and…I thought…” He lowered his head. It had
always been easier to talk to Dick without having to actually look into his
eyes. Especially when Bruce was being contrite. “Maybe it’s time we make it
official.”
Dick grinned. “The Justice League?”
Bruce nodded.
A bigger grin. “Really?”
Another nod, then a sigh. “Really.”
Dick’s grin faded. Now he looked suspicious. “Why the change of heart? You
were pretty adamant about me never joining the League. I believe your exact
words were, ‘not in this lifetime.’”
Bruce shrugged. “I was a bit harsh.”
Dick clutched at his chest while flinging his arm out in an exaggerated
gesture of a heart-attack.
“Stop it.”
“I can’t. It’s just too much.”
“I can change my mind.”
Dick straightened. “Oh, all right. It’s just that it’s not everyday you admit
that you were wrong.”
“I did no such thing.”
“Yes, you did.”
“No, I didn’t,” Bruce said, pulling the cowl back on and heading to the
cave’s teleporter tube.
Dick followed. “Did, too.”
Bruce activated the device, but not before he was able to get in, “Did not.”
The transport from the cave to the Watchtower seemed routine, although Dick
hadn’t used the tube as much as Bruce had, who seemed to think that something
was terribly wrong.
“What happened?” Bruce’s hand worked over the controls next to the technician
in the transporter room.
“I’m not sure. I’m running a diagnostics of the system. If something’s wrong,
it should show up there.”
“Something is wrong. If the diagnostics comes back clean, run it again.”
“Yes sir.”
The soft swoosh of the mechanical doors had Dick turning to face Superman.
“Nightwing. I heard you’d be here today.” Superman turned to see Bruce and
the technician studying the control system. “Something wrong?”
“There was an extra thirty second delay in transport.”
“Thirty seconds? Doesn’t sound too serious. Any ideas, Mike?” Clark placed
his hand on the technician’s shoulder.
“You have a reason for being here?” Bruce glared at Clark.
“I just wanted to welcome Nightwing aboard, get him acquainted with the
enrollment process, answer any questions he might have.”
“That’s what I’m here for.”
“Well, I was the one who nominated him for membership, I thought I’d…”
“You thought wrong.”
Dick knew that the two men were good friends. Knew that Bruce held Clark in
the highest esteem, though Bruce certainly would never admit that to Clark. Or
anyone else for that matter. Especially when Dick was involved. He was sure that
Bruce had never gotten over Dick’s childhood idol worship of Clark. The Superman
pajamas had probably thrown Bruce over the edge. Dick should feel bad about
that, but he didn’t.
“I don’t see why we all can’t go through this process together. Maybe grab
some lunch. Besides, I haven’t seen Superman in a while. I’d like to catch up,”
Dick said.
Bruce grunted.
“Good idea. I suggest we start right here.” Clark moved next to the
technician. “Nightwing, this is Mike. He’ll get you started with your own set of
security codes for the transporter.”
“My own codes.”
“Don’t let it go to your head. It’ll be restricted until you’ve been accepted
as a member.”
Bruce had always been the proverbial rain on Dick’s parade. But the tone of
Bruce’s voice wasn’t harsh, and Dick could swear he saw a grin trying to spread
across Bruce’s face. Well, one could hope.
“Right,” Dick said.
Batman then faced Superman with “the look”, and Dick held back the giggles
that threatened to surface.
“Superman. I’d like to see you. In the hallway.”
Clark didn’t move. Just stood there with that goofy grin of his. He was
definitely enjoying this.
“Now!”
Clark walked to the door, and stepped inside the frame with an outstretched
arm. “After you.”
Bruce grunted and walked past him, into the hall. This was going to be fun.
Dick looked over at the technician who shook his head. “I don’t know how you
do it.”
“Me neither, sometimes,” Dick walked over to him. “So, what’s with a
thirty-second delay?”
“Probably nothing. Can’t be too sure with this thing, though. It’s best to
err on the side of caution.”
Dick shivered at the thought of something seriously going wrong with the
transporter.
The computer emitted a series of beeps.
“What’s that?”
“The diagnostics run is complete.” Mike scanned the results. “This is
interesting. I’m not sure if this has ever happened before?”
“Anything serious?”
“No. A completely normal occurrence for the situation, actually.”
Dick really didn’t understand the complexities of the Watchtower’s
transporter and really didn’t feel the need to. But he was sure that Mike was
going to give him an explanation anyway. Engineers tended to do that.
“Look. Individual genetic codes are siphoned through the computer, where
details are filtered out.” He turned to Nightwing with a shrug. “So that secret
identities remain secret. Anyway, when there is more than one person
transporting at a time, the computer automatically separates your genetic codes.
Otherwise you may materialize with the wrong arms, legs, or worst yet,
combined.”
“Isn’t that normal? The separation of genetic codes, that is.” Suddenly Dick
wondered if anyone had been transported with someone else’s limbs before.
“Yes, but because you and Batman have genetic familial traits, it took longer
than usual. Exactly thirty seconds longer.” Mike shrugged. “Now we know the
reason behind the delay. Simple biology.”
Genetic familial traits? “Biology?”
“Yes. You’re Batman’s biological son.”
Dick’s heart dropped and his stomach turned hot.
“Hey. You okay?”
Dick shook himself. “What? No. I just remembered there’s somewhere I need to
be. Can you send me back?”
“Sure.” Mike looked confused, but Dick had to leave. Now.
He took his place in the tube, and Mike sent him back to the cave.
“Where’s Nightwing?” Batman asked as he entered the transporter room with
Superman.
“He said he had to leave, so I sent him back.”
“Did he say why?”
The technician ran a hand through his hair. “I’m not sure. I was just
explaining the reason behind the delay and the genetic sequencing that took
place when the two of you arrived.
“Genetic sequencing?” Damn
“Yes. The computer took extra precautions in dissemination because of your
shared genetics. It was the reason for the thirty sec…”
Bruce had already moved to the transporter. “Send me back. Now!”
“What is it?” Clark was standing in front of him, obviously clueless to what
had happened.
Good. Maybe he could keep it that way.
“Now!” Damn.
Bruce felt the momentary tingle as his molecules were restructured in the
cave. Alfred was waiting.
“Where is he?”
“I sent him upstairs.”
“He knows.”
“I know.”
Bruce pulled away his cowl. “What did he say?”
“He asked if you were his biological father.”
“I have to explain to him…”
Alfred placed a reassuring hand on Bruce’s shoulder. “No. He’s too angry and
confused. I will speak to him, try to explain.”
Bruce shook his head. “I should have realized that the transporter could…”
“We both knew that this day would come.”
“I was hoping it would never come.”
Alfred smiled that smile Bruce remembered from childhood. The smile that
Alfred used, telling Bruce that he wasn’t fooled for one instant.
“What do I do?”
“Stay in town tonight? I shall call you once I’ve calmed him down and
explained.”
Bruce nodded. “Maybe you’re right.”
Alfred began the climb the up to the Manor. “I usually am.”
Alfred was silent. Waited for Dick to ask the question that hung between them
like an elephant in the room everyone pretended not to notice.
He decided to prod his silent surrogate grandson into conversation. “Would
you care for tea?”
Dick shook his head.
“Scones? I made them this morning.”
Another shake of his head.
A long-suffering sigh. If Alfred were to wait for either of his boys to
broach a subject, no one would speak at all.
“Master Dick, you behave as though someone has died. Far from it. There is
nothing to be mourned here.”
“Why didn’t either of you tell me?”
“Master Bruce felt that it was not in your best interest. As did I.”
“So you lied to me?”
“We simply withheld the information.”
“Why? What reason could you have had to keep something like this from me?”
Alfred eased himself onto the sofa next to the confused young man. He only
hoped that the reasons behind Bruce’s decision would satisfy Dick, and not have
him running away from them—an all too familiar occurrence for this
unconventional family. “John Grayson raised you as his own son. You idolized
him. Master Bruce would not take that from you.”
A tear tracked down Dick’s face, which he was quick to remove with the back
of his hand.
“And my mother?” He looked at Alfred. “Did she withhold this information from
my father?”
“No. Before John and Mary were wed, he knew that the child she carried was
not his.”
“I knew she lived in Gotham for a while, but Bruce had said he didn’t know
her well.” Dick took a breath. “He didn’t want me, did he?”
So that was the crux of the boy’s anguish. Alfred placed a reassuring hand on
Dick’s shoulder. “He never knew about you. Not until much later.”
“He could have told me when I was older.”
Alfred closed his eyes, remembered the day Bruce had come to a painful
decision. “He’d made a promise to never reveal the truth.”
“Why?”
“Dr. Wayne’s memory is still an influential part of Bruce’s life. He knew
that to be true of you with John Grayson as well. Besides, it was enough that he
had you in his life.”
“How noble.”
“You are Bruce’s flesh and blood. He sacrificed that relationship, knowing
that it was in your best interest. Noble? You’re bloody right it was noble.” The
words were harsh, but the right ones for the moment.
“That’s what makes this so damned hard.” Dick stood, wiped away another tear.
“I feel like I don’t even know him. That maybe I never did.”
“Sit down.”
“What?”
“Sit down.” When Dick sat back down, Alfred stood, straightened his coat, and
clasped his hands behind his back. “Master Bruce’s parents were killed on the
eve of his eight birthday.”
“Alfred, I know the story…”
“You were John Grayson’s son when you heard the story. Perhaps hearing it now
will provide a different perspective on both Master Bruce and your mother.”
“It’s not just biology that makes you a parent.”
“No, it is not. And I would say that Bruce Wayne has proven that theory with
you.”
Dick bowed his head. “I don’t know anymore.”
“Then let me continue.”
Dick paused, nodded. “Okay. Tell me about my father.”
The Beginning
Alfred stood at the foyer closet, two coats draped around his arm, and a
larger one held wide for the master of the house.
“Is everything ready for tomorrow, Alfred?” Dr. Wayne asked as Alfred placed
the coat over the man’s shoulders.
“The caterers have been confirmed, the cake already delivered, and the
magician will arrive at two p.m. sharp.”
Dr. Wayne laughed. “You’ve thought of everything, haven’t you?”
“It isn’t every day the young master has a birthday.”
“No. I guess not.”
The exuberance of this seven—soon to be eight—year old would never cease to
amaze Alfred as the boy bounced down the stairs and jumped into his father’s
arms, temporarily knocking the breath from Dr. Wayne’s lungs. Alfred couldn’t
blame the boy for his excitement. He’d waited two whole weeks to see the movie
that he’d been talking about non-stop—Zorro—brandishing an imaginary sword and
marking equally imaginary Zs in his wake.
“I don’t think your mother is ready yet.”
“I’m as ready as I’ll ever be,” Mrs. Wayne said, descending the staircase
while affixing a pearl earring to her ear lobe. No doubt young Bruce had rushed
her while getting ready.
“You look beautiful.” Dr. Wayne kissed his wife on the cheek.
Mrs. Wayne blushed, touched her throat. “Oh no!”
“What is it?”
She ran back up the stairs and answered over her shoulder. “The pearls you
gave me. I wanted to wear them tonight. In my rush to get ready, I’d forgotten
them.”
“Come on, Mom. You look pretty without them.”
“I won’t be but a minute. Promise.”
Alfred knew that Bruce couldn’t help but figet at the thought of waiting one
more minute.
“Women,” Bruce said, then sighed.
His father smirked. “Yeah. But what can you do?”
Bruce shrugged as if he understood. “Nothing, I suppose.”
“Son, you are wise beyond your years.” Dr. Wayne laughed. “Come on. Let’s go
get the car.”
“Alfred’s not driving?”
Alfred handed Bruce his coat. “Not tonight, young sir. I have other duties
that need my attention.”
“Don’t you want to see Zorro?”
“I will have to settle for your rendition upon your return.” Knowing Bruce,
he figured it would be an animated rendition at that.
“It’s my party, isn’t it? You’re doing something for my party.” He bounced up
and down on the polished marble floor. “You can tell me.”
“I’m afraid that I cannot.”
Bruce frowned. “You’re no fun.”
“I know. It is a curse, really.” Alfred turned on his heel and left.
He could hear Dr. Wayne’s laughter echoing down the hallway, and could only
imagine the perplexed look the boy was now wearing. No fun, indeed. He was
definitely having fun.
“They were killed that night?”
“Yes.”
“And Bruce…” Dick shook his head as though the memory were his.
“His recovery was difficult.”
“He still has nightmares. I don’t have nightmares anymore.”
Alfred knew that Dick sometimes felt guilty for allowing himself to heal.
“You must not feel guilty because you chose to heal. They would have wanted
no less for you. Master Bruce certainly wanted no less for you.”
Dick shook his head. “Why couldn’t he do the same?”
Alfred sighed. “I don’t know. Maybe because I couldn’t give him what he was
able to give you—empathy. He always wanted…” Alfred cleared his throat. “He
wants more for you than what he himself was able to achieve.”
Dick stood, put out a hand. “Stop. I want to stay angry at him. He had no
right to keep this from me.”
“Ah, yes. Anger does help to quell an aching heart. The remedy, however,
lasts but for a short while.”
“I don’t care.” Dick stood, walked to the window, and touched the glass with
his hand, leaned his head against it, no doubt succumbing to one of the numerous
memories of being raised in this house.
Alfred knew that Dick was only lashing out. He did care. Greatly. “Then there
is nothing more that I can say.”
Alfred waited.
“I do care,” Dick finally whispered.
“Then let me continue.”
Dick nodded. Alfred was getting through to him. He’d known he would. He’d
also known what was at the heart of Dick’s anguish. Something he’d never truly
come to grips with and which he would no longer be able to ignore.
The Long Recovery
The doctor walked into the room, but Alfred ignored him. He knew what he
wanted.
“Mr. Penneyworth, you really should go home and get some rest. We’ll call you
if there’s a change in his condition.”
“He needs to know that he is not alone.”
“The nurses are here around the clock. I assure you, he will not be left
alone.”
Alfred fought for control. How could the doctor be so dense? He stood and
guided the physician away from where Bruce lay. “Doctor, this child’s parents
were brutally taken from him. He not only witnessed the ordeal, but was a victim
of it, as well. It is vital that he knows he is not alone. That there is someone
who is here for him. Who loves him. Do you understand?”
“Mr. Penneyworth, he’s in a coma. He doesn’t even know you’re here.”
“There is evidence to the contrary.”
“What evidence?”
Alfred turned to Bruce and the doctor followed his gaze. Bruce’s eyes had
opened.
“I’ve told you before, Mr. Penneyworth. It’s a reflexive response. Nothing
more.”
Alfred smiled at the other man, then sat again at Bruce’s side, taking the
child’s hand in his. At the touch, Bruce closed his eyes. “Dr. Leslie Thompkins
was an associate of Dr. Wayne’s. She will be arriving this evening and will take
over as Master Bruce’s primary physician.”
“I’m sure there’s nothing she can do that hasn’t already been done.”
“That’s where you are mistaken, sir. She can give the lad hope. Something you
seem unable to deliver.”
“It was a miracle he survived,” Dick said, taking a sip of
milk.
Alfred had lured Dick into the kitchen with the promise of
chocolate chip cookies. His favorite. Snacks had always been eaten in the
kitchen. It’d become the place where both Bruce and Dick would usually bare
their hearts to Alfred. Discuss their concerns, hopes, dreams. It warmed
Alfred’s heart to know that things hadn’t changed all that much.
“Indeed, it was.”
Dick took a bite of his cookie. “I read the police
reports. When I was Robin.”
Alfred smiled. There wasn’t much that was done in this house
that he didn’t know about. That included things done beneath the house as
well.
Dick shrugged. “I wanted to know what happened. If he really
did understand what it was like to be left alone. One of the first things he
taught me was to pull police reports. It wasn’t hard to find.” His face turned
solemn. “There were pictures of the funeral, too. Bruce wasn’t able to be
there, was he? He couldn’t say goodbye.”
“No.” Alfred had gone to the funeral. It was the only time he’d
left Bruce’s side at the hospital.
Dick put the half eaten cookie on the plate. “I remember the
day my parents were buried. Bruce never left my side. Neither did you.”
“It was a dark day.”
“Did you know that he brought me back to their graves later
that night?”
“I suspected as much.”
“I couldn’t sleep. Just needed to be near them. He understood
that.”
“There were many nights when I’d find Master Bruce’s room
empty, only to discover him at the cemetery. He still does that on
occasion.” More occasions than Alfred wished.
Dick cleared his throat. “Did he ever tell you what happened
the night his parents were killed? The police report said that his parents
were shot point blank, but that he wasn’t. The trajectory of the bullet that
hit him wasn’t the same. I always wondered about that.”
“No. He’s never discussed that night with anyone, as far as I
know. I’m not certain he remembers much.”
“He remembers.” Dick seemed so sure.
“Perhaps you’re right. But it is a mystery that I’m afraid he
may never fully disclose.”
Dick shook his head, stood up, and moved to the window. “Like I
said before, I know the story.”
Dick’s voice had lost the warmth it displayed a mere moment
ago. Alfred could see the emotional war within Dick. Emotions that tended to
cloud better judgment. So Alfred would continue talking. To buy the time
needed for Dick to settle into his discovery. Maybe then, father and son would
be able to talk.
Dick stood still, gazed at the stars. It was a rare occurrence
for him to be rooted to one spot for a long period of time. So like his mother
in that respect. Always moving.
Alfred positioned himself behind him. To let him know that he
wasn’t alone. The he never was. Alfred would make certain Dick understood
that. “You will also come to understand why certain decisions were made.”
“You seem so sure.”
“I am.”
“Then tell me about my mother,” Dick said as he whirled around
to face Alfred. “Did she love Bruce? Did he even love her?” The words spilled
out of his mouth in a rush of emotion.
“I will tell you all that you want to know and some things that
you perhaps do not.” Alfred grinned. A reassuring grin to let Dick know that
all would be set straight. “I promise to withhold nothing.”
Dick seemed to waiver slightly at that, but Alfred knew that
Dick was also resolute in his desire to know the truth about his parents. All
three of them.
So Alfred continued.
Rage
“He’s lost. I look into his eyes…” Leslie choked on a sob, her
hand clutching the ragged handkerchief she seemed to always have with
her. “I’m afraid for him.”
Alfred could see the fatigue that wore on her delicate
features. Could see it in every move she made. Fatigue not from overtaxing her
body to its limit, although a commonplace occurrence for this woman, but from
the constant worry she shouldered for Bruce. Worry they both shared.
“As am I.”
“We’ve done everything the experts told us to do. But he’s
sliding deeper into himself. I’m afraid that soon we’re not going to be able
to reach him at all.”
“He questions his purpose in life. A purpose he craves to
justify living, I think.”
“He’s only twelve and he’s searching for a will to
live.” Alfred knew that Leslie would never give up on Bruce, but she was at a
lost of what to do for him.
“There is something we haven’t tried.”
She looked up at him. They’d had this conversation
before. Alfred knew what Bruce needed. And they didn’t have the luxury of
waiting for Leslie’s approval.
“No. I won’t allow it.”
“I am his legal guardian. You have no choice.”
Alfred loved this woman, but he often found himself wondering
at the differences in their outlook on life. He’d been a soldier. Trained
during the cold war. He’d seen minimal action, his job that of an
intelligence- gathering agent and medic. But that made little difference to
Leslie.
“Thomas asked that I look after Bruce’s well-being. I think
this situation applies.”
Alfred nodded. “I think you also realize that drastic measures
must be taken if Bruce is to have any kind of life.”
Bruce no long had the hopes and dreams that most children
have. Alfred knew this. He also knew that Leslie had yet to admit it.
Bruce had been changed.
He was obsessed with his education. Sought to learn everything
he could about a variety of subjects. He also exercised relentlessly, and was
satisfied with nothing but perfection from himself.
And he was filled with rage.
“He needs to realize that his parents’ killer may never be
found,” she said, sitting heavily onto a chair.
“Yes. But others like the man who killed Thomas and Martha can
be brought to justice.”
She shook her head. “I can’t believe you’re actually
considering this. He’s still in pain. He needs time…”
“He will learn to look beyond his own pain. To use it, even.”
“He’s just a child.”
“A child filled with hopelessness and thoughts of revenge. He
lacks direction and I’m afraid that if he receives no guidance, he will be
lost.”
Bruce yearned to make sense of his life. He was smart and not a
little headstrong. And he’d questioned Alfred on numerous occasions about
ideas he’d had.
Ideas of revenge.
Alfred knew that he had to help Bruce learn the difference
between revenge and justice. Had to help him embrace the latter before it was
too late. Alfred didn’t think anyone would understand leading a child into
this kind of work. Especially Leslie.
“What about his childhood?”
Alfred knelt on one knee, took her hand. “I fear his childhood
is already gone.”
“You don’t know that. Give him time. When he’s old enough, he
can go to school. Pursue something in the field of justice. But not this.”
“He is not a normal child. We don’t have the luxury of waiting
for him to grow up,” Alfred said, frustration echoing in his voice. He
stood. “I will teach him the basics. The rest will be up to him.”
“Batman was your idea?” Dick asked.
“Don’t be absurd. I only gave him an outlet for his rage. The
drive and determination were his alone. Batman was his alone,” Alfred
said. “When he was of age, I suggested that he enroll into the FBI Academy
. He lasted approximately six months, realizing that the bureaucracy would get
him nowhere. He had bigger plans.”
“Bruce did for me what you did for him. Why didn’t I know this
about you?”
“I merely guided him, the rest he did for himself.”
Dick laughed. “I bet Leslie had a cow. Probably didn’t realize
what levels Bruce would go to. Even back then.”
Alfred smiled. “She was none too happy. But soon realized that
conventional methods failed to provide the help Bruce needed. And being the
intellect that he is, it’d become increasingly difficult to challenge him.”
“I must take after my mother.”
“You are more like your father than you realize.”
Dick frowned, and Alfred knew that Dick was thinking of another
father. “I’d been told that I was like my dad…John Grayson.”
“I imagine you are. He was an influential part of your life.”
“He was my father.”
Alfred nodded. “That is not in dispute.”
“No. It isn’t.”
Dick looked back out into the night. His eyes widened, and
Alfred followed his gaze to the illumination in the sky.
The Bat signal.
“Looks like Bruce is in for a busy night.”
“It would seem.”
“Go ahead. He’ll need you backing him up in the cave. I should
head back home.”
Barbara was gone. For a little while at least. And therefore,
Oracle was offline. Unfortunately, Dick and Barbara’s relationship was
offline, as well.
“If I am needed, there are other means for him to reach me.”
“All right,” Dick said, sat back down, and took a bite out of
his previously forgotten cookie. “Then tell me how Bruce and my mother met?”
“Bruce was fifteen at the time and three years into various
martial arts and forensics studies. He’d been home schooled until this point.
However, both Leslie and I decided that it was time for him to be among his
peers. To rejoin the human race. Whether he agreed or not.”
“Pretty headstrong back then, too, huh?”
“You have no idea.”
The Girl
Alfred opened the door to welcome Bruce home from school. He
hoped that Bruce’s first day had been a pleasant one. That Bruce would allow
himself to make friends.
“Master Bruce,” Alfred said, taking his backpack, and then
noticed that the boy was not alone. Bruce didn’t look happy about it, either.
Alfred couldn’t help but grin.
“Hello, Miss. Please come in.”
The petite brunette followed Bruce through the door in seeming
awe of her surroundings.
“This is Mary Lloyd,” Bruce said, looking down at his feet, his
eyes narrowing dangerously.
“A pleasure, Miss Lloyd.” Alfred took her backpack, setting it
with Bruce’s in the hall closet. “My name is Alfred. I am the butler.”
She smiled and Alfred couldn’t help but smile back. She was
radiant.
“Hello.” She scanned the room. “This is where you live? It’s
so…big.”
Bruce nodded then turned to Alfred. “Because we’re both new at
school, the teacher decided that we should help each other. I told him I
didn’t need help. He disagreed. Mary’s my partner until further notice.”
Alfred sighed. Well at least a forced partnership was better
than the boy sitting at home alone with nothing but his text books. Alfred
made a mental note to talk to the lad. He had no doubt that Bruce could
complete the project on his own. But working with a partner was a
give-and-take proposition. Something Bruce had yet to learn.
Alfred closed the door and waved the pair into the
kitchen. “First, I do think a snack is in order. I’ve made your favorite,
Master Bruce. Chocolate chip cookies.”
The scowl on Bruce’s face deepened with a hint of red marking
his cheeks.
Mary smiled. “Chocolate chip cookies are always a good idea.”
“I agree, Miss Lloyd. And I will make certain that they are at
your disposal until the project is completed.”
The youngsters followed Alfred, who spoke to them as they
walked to the kitchen. “So, Miss Lloyd, you are new to our fair city?”
“Yes, sir. My father’s in the military so we move around a
lot. This move’s supposed to be for keeps, though.”
“That must make you happy.”
“I guess. Although I love seeing new places and meeting
people.”
“I’d imagine it could be quite the adventure, settling into a
new town.”
Mary seemed to think about that for a moment, then smiled. She
had the brightest smile. “I guess it could be. I never thought of it as an
adventure before.”
Alfred stopped at the door and waved Bruce and Mary into the
kitchen. Bruce was about to step over the threshold when Alfred placed a firm
hand on his shoulder, holding him in place. He whispered in Bruce’s
ear. “Ladies first.”
Bruce immediately complied and stepped aside. Mary giggled as
she walked through the door.
“I’m sorry. I just don’t understand what I’m supposed to do.”
“Take the calcium chloride, sodium bicarbonate, and bromothynol
blue and pour them into the jar. Then simply record the sequence of
reactions.”
“Record the sequence of reactions.” Mary looked at each of the
ingredients like they were objects from outer space.
Alfred watched from the doorway with a frown. But his heart
leapt when he saw Bruce’s face. It was no longer etched in a scowl, but seemed
to have softened as he evidently took pity on the girl’s lack of prowess in
science.
“Here. Let me show you.”
Bruce poured the ingredients one by one into the jar.
Mary’s face brightened when she saw the first reaction. “It’s
turning blue!”
Bruce actually smirked, and Alfred said a silent pray of
thanks. For Bruce, a smirk was a full blown smile.
“Now it’s green.” She wrote the various reactions into her
notebook then looked at Bruce, who quickly turned away, scowl firmly back in
place. “You must think I’m really stupid.”
He looked at her briefly, turned back to his notes. “No.”
She looked perplexed. “Are you mad at me?”
“No.”
“Can you say anything else besides no?”
There was the smirk again.
“I’m not angry with you,” he said.
“Well that’s good to know. Because I’m extremely grateful to
you.”
“What for?”
“For helping me understand all of this.” She waved her hand
across the table filled with their books and the now completed science
project.
“It wasn’t a big deal.”
“It was to me. Science has never been my best subject. You made
it seem so easy. I actually understood what we were doing.”
She then did something that surprised even Alfred. She kissed
Bruce’s cheek. To his credit, Bruce didn’t push her away. Alfred had seen
Bruce shrink back from even the smallest of physical contact. He didn’t like
being touched--something that was of concern to both Alfred and Leslie. This
was a good sign. Alfred would have to call Leslie and tell her the news.
Dick laughed. “She kissed him?”
“She was always fond of doing things on the whim.”
“I remember,” Dick said. “What grade did they get on the
project?”
“An A, of course. Master Bruce would have settled for nothing
less.”
“He’s a great teacher. I remember how patient he was with
me. How he found a way to make sense out of what I thought at the time was
senseless.” Dick frowned. “You think he’d have been a teacher or something?”
“Perhaps.” In a life that should have been.
A vibration in his right coat pocket had Alfred digging out the
pager he kept there.
“Bruce?” Dick asked.
“Yes,” Alfred answered, already moving toward the study for the
Batcave, Dick following close behind.
Alfred sat at the computer and opened a channel to answer
Bruce’s page. “I am here, sir.”
Silence.
“Batman. Can you hear me?”
“Nothing,” Dick said.
Alfred typed a few commands onto the keyboard and watched as a
map of the city appeared onscreen. A red blinking dot indicated Bruce’s
location.
“I see the tracer. He’s at the docks,” Dick said as he hurried
for the uniform vault. He’d changed into his civilian clothes upstairs, but
kept extra suites in the cave in cases of emergency. Alfred felt it was also
Dick’s way of keeping a part of himself here, too.
Dick returned from the vault, grabbed the helmet from his bike,
and started the engine. He looked over his shoulder at Alfred.
“I’ll bring him home.”
Dick entered the warehouse, the smell of sulphur hitting his nostrils
hard. There’d been an explosion—a contained one from the look of things.
Bruce’s tracking signal had led Dick to this place, growing stronger as Dick
walked across the expanse. From the amount of debris, it looked like the
signal was leading Dick to the pinpoint of the blast.
An all too familiar panic churned inside of him.
He prayed that Bruce was somehow able to shield himself from the brunt of the
explosion, but shivered at the sight of crates and boxes that lay splintered
and scattered.
He glanced down at the signal which was now strong and steady and began
looking through the debris for Bruce. His searched proved to be a short one,
however, when he saw Bruce’s gauntleted hand sticking out from beneath a heap
of rubble
His breath hitched, and he tripped through the rubble in his rush to get to
Bruce, quickly throwing off shards of wood and wreckage from atop his father.
His father.
He pushed aside the thought. He couldn’t think of that now. Or how much the
idea of losing another father drove him to the brink.
A groan.
“Hang on, big guy. I almost got you out.” Dick quickly freed Bruce from his
tomb and began checking for any obvious physical injuries.
“You came.”
Dick couldn’t help but wonder why that always seemed to surprise Bruce. “Why
do you keep saying that?”
Bruce tried to sit up and winced, holding his side.
“Ribs?”
Bruce nodded.
“What happened here?”
“Gordon had a lead on a pyrotechnics expert who’s been blowing up Nightclubs
in the East End. From the looks of it, this is where he set up shop. He got
careless.”
“You mean…?”
Bruce nodded. “That red smear behind you.”
Dick turned to the back wall and shook his head. “Not much left for the police
to scrape off.”
Dick helped Bruce to his feet. But Bruce staggered, touched his head.
“Whoa. You all right?”
“Concussion.”
Unfortunately, all of the bat clan was familiar with that particular
injury. This one must have been a pretty good one since Bruce still hadn’t
moved. Dick put a steadying hand on Bruce’s arm.
After a moment, Bruce turned to him and nodded. “Let’s go.”
Dick sat across the room of the cave’s med-bay as Alfred tended Bruce’s
injuries. Watching. Concentrating on Bruce’s face. Noticing things he hadn’t
noticed before. Dick fought the anger that rose from his gut as certain
similarities hit him like a ton of bricks. Bruce’s eyes, hair, even his nose
were similar to his own. Dick had always thought that he looked more like his
mother than his father. Now he knew better. He looked more like Bruce.
Dick balled his fists. He should have figured it out.
Alfred’s voice broke his mental assessment, bringing his attention back to the
matter at hand—Bruce’s injuries.
“How many fingers, sir?” Alfred was evidently trying to determine the extent
of Bruce’s injuries. So far, just a couple of cracked ribs and a
concussion. He was lucky tonight.
“Two.”
Dick snorted. “You’re guessing. Why don’t you just admit that you’re seeing
double and get it over with? It’s not like Alfred wouldn’t know better.”
Bruce glared.
“It is a game we are destined to play out, I’m afraid. Master Bruce gets
himself injured, and I must guess at the seriousness of said injury since he
will undoubtedly give me false answers to very important questions regarding
his health.” Alfred stuck the syringe into Bruce’s arm forcibly, and Dick
smiled when Bruce winced. Alfred was angry. Although he’d never let it get
the best of him like Dick usually did.
Alfred flashed a small light into Bruce’s eyes, looked at the pupil’s
reaction. Bruce would be fine. Dick really didn’t need to be there…right?
“Well, it looks like Alfred has things under control. I’m going home.”
He turned, headed for his bike when Alfred stopped him.
“You will do no such thing.”
Dick sighed, knowing that any battle with Alfred was lost before it even
began.
“We are not yet finished discussing today’s revelations.”
Dick’s shoulders slumped and he turned back around.
Alfred straightened his coat and squared his shoulders. “Now, Master Dick, if
you would please help me get Master Bruce upstairs, the three can talk. And I
think that you will find that the pain medications I administered will render
him exceedingly forthcoming.”
Dick couldn’t help but smile at that. And at the not-so-incoherent mutterings
under Bruce’s breath.
Bruce still hadn’t admitted suffering from double vision from the concussion
he’d received. Alfred hadn’t expected him to. But Bruce didn’t shrug away from
the help of both Alfred and Dick as they made their way up the stairs and into
the Manor, either.
After serving a pot of tea to calm much frazzled nerves and embattled limbs,
Alfred decided to do away with pleasantries and get back to the task at hand.
“Master Bruce, before we were interrupted by your untimely predicament, I’d
just finished telling Master Dick about your first meeting with his mother.”
Bruce glared, but Alfred was undeterred.
“Now, I shall pick up where I left off.”
“You were talking about how my mother kissed Bruce.” There was no humor in
Dick’s voice, and Alfred noticed the younger man’s hands as they gripped the
chair’s arms. Evidently, Dick’s concern for Bruce’s well being had given way
to his anger.
“Exactly what story were you telling, old man?” Bruce asked, his voice tense.
Alfred rolled his eyes, knowing he was in for a very long night.
“Your adolescent years.” Dick’s grin was thin. “Tell me something, Bruce. Was
my mother just another one of your conquests? Were you playing the role of
playboy back then, too?”
“Master Dick. You certainly know Master Bruce better than that. I’ll thank you
to keep your emotional outbursts in check.” Alfred turned to Bruce. “And I’d
advise you not to hold your tongue. Your son needs to know the truth about you
and his mother, and he will know it tonight.”
Alfred looked from Bruce to Dick. The men obviously knew better than to
object. “Good. Then I shall continue.”
“Since that first day when Master Bruce brought Mary to the Manor, I’d hoped
hers was just one of many friendships he would establish at school. But that
was not the case. Mary was the only one he’d allow to become close to him.”
Alfred looked at Bruce. “Perhaps you would like to tell your son how your
friendship with his mother developed.
Alfred could see Bruce’s struggle to keep his emotions in check, a difficult
task given the amount of medication Alfred had administered. He knew that
Bruce was frightened. Frightened of the past and of what Mary had meant to
him.
But to his benefit, he cleared his throat and nodded.
Friendships
“Come on, Bruce. It’ll be fun.”
A concert. He didn’t have time for such trivialities. But Mary wanted him to
go, and he found himself having a hard time telling her no. But he’d do it
anyway. He didn’t have a choice.
“I’m busy.”
She plopped down in the chair next to him, his nose still in the book he hid
behind. “You’re always busy.”
“I have to study.”
“Bruce, I’ve never known you to get anything lower than an A. I think you
can take one day off.”
Mary never gave up easily, especially with Bruce. Ever since she’d
discovered his traumatic past, Bruce had come to believe that Mary had made
him her special project. He couldn’t see any other reason for her wanting to
be around him. The other kids at school wondered about it, too. He’d heard
the whispers. Knew they didn’t like him--thought he was odd. Mary had always
stood up for him, though. He just didn’t know why.
Bruce shook his head no.
Mary sighed even as she looked at him with that radiant smile of hers. “All
right. But you’re missing the concert of the century.”
“I guess I’ll have to wait until next century, then.”
Mary gasped, her hand pressed to her gaping mouth. “Was that a joke?”
Bruce smirked.
She giggled. “It was a joke.”
Bruce couldn’t help but smile. Didn’t even realize he was doing it until
Mary looked at him with those big blue eyes and smiled back. It was easy
being with her. He felt more at ease with her than anyone else, except maybe
Alfred. She almost made him forget. At the thought, he could feel the grief
begin to consume him, and the guilt for thinking such a thing settle in his
stomach like lead.
She must have seen it on his face, grabbed his hand. “Don’t. Don’t do that.”
He tried to pull away, but she held firm. “I’m not doing anything.”
“It’s okay to be happy. I think they’d want you to be happy, don’t you?”
Bruce looked down at the floor, her hand in his providing such comfort. Such
warmth. Something he hadn’t experienced for a long time--or allowed. He
knew he should pull away, tell her to leave him alone.
“Do you miss them?”
She always seemed to know what he was thinking. Feeling.
He nodded but couldn’t look at her. This was a big admission to someone
other than Alfred.
“Why won’t you let yourself be happy, Bruce?”
He pulled his hand from hers. “I…I have to study. Have fun at the
concert.” He walked away.
Bruce sat at the desk in his room. His parents’ bedroom. Recently, Alfred
had insisted he move into it. Said it was time he became the master of the
manor, and this was the master’s bedroom.
After they had died, Alfred would often find him here. Standing. Staring at
the huge, empty bed, and remembering the times he’d snuck in between the two
slumbering forms, wanting to find comfort in their presence when the night’s
shadows overwhelmed him with their eerie shapes.
He felt closer to them in this room. Although they were no longer here to
keep the shadow monsters at bay, or the nightmares that now visited him.
Alfred tried to comfort him during those times, and sometimes even
understood what Bruce needed. But it wasn’t the same. Nothing would ever be
the same again.
Mary would try to comfort him, too.
“It’s okay to be happy,” she’d said. “I think they’d want you to be happy,
don’t you?”
He looked at his hand--the one she’d held--and shook his head. No. He
couldn’t think about her. Besides, she only felt sorry for him.
A concert. Just a concert. With Mary.
He squeezed his eyes shut, but all he could see were the bloody remains of
his mom and dad. He’d promised them he’d try to make things better. To not
let what happened to them, happen to anyone else.
“I won’t let you down, mom and dad. Not again,” he whispered.
“Master Bruce. May I have a word with you, please?”
Bruce looked up, saw Alfred standing in the doorway, and hoped that the man
hadn’t heard his declaration, although Alfred knew of the promise. Alfred
was helping him to fulfill it.
Alfred sat on the edge of the bed, and Bruce swiveled in his chair to face
him.
“Perhaps it would be in the best interest of your ultimate goal if you
attended the concert with Miss Mary. Otherwise undue suspicion would be cast
upon you.”
“Suspicion?”
“Yes. Suspicion. Something someone in your position cannot afford.”
Bruce thought about what Alfred said, absorbing its potential ramifications.
“You must blend in with those around you. You wouldn’t want others curious
about your training, would you?”
Bruce wasn’t sure where all of his training would eventually lead, but knew
enough to keep it secret.
Alfred was right.
“What do I need to do?”
“You must change the perception that others now have of you. You stand out
in your isolation.”
“I…hadn’t thought of that.”
“I think it’s time you had. Unless you’ve changed your mind…”
Bruce’s head shot up, and he glared at Alfred. “No! I haven’t changed my
mind.”
Alfred stood, straightened his coat. “Then I suggest you attend the concert
with Miss Mary and her friends. And I also suggest that you have a good
time.”
Alfred apparently had taken pity on what must have been the look of absolute
horror on Bruce’s face. He sighed. “Acting lessons begin at four sharp.”
Alfred left the room, leaving Bruce deep in thought and not a little
apprehensive. But he knew Alfred was right.
Dick was quiet and stared at the man who’d been like a father to him. Now,
he was his father. Had always been his father. And hearing him talk of his
mother in such a knowing way felt…strange, out of place, pod-people scary,
even.
Dick closed his eyes, remembered the sound of his mother’s laugh. The sound
of her voice as she would sing him to sleep. And he remembered her. The
person he knew. And all that Bruce had just told him rang so true to his
heart that it hurt.
“So you went to the concert?” Dick asked, his voice steady even though he
didn’t feel that way.
“Yes.”
“Did you have fun?”
Bruce looked up, apparently surprised at the question. “What?”
“Did you have fun?”
Bruce seemed to think about it before answering, “Yes. I did.”
“You sure it wasn’t part of the act Alfred taught you?”
“Master Dick. Teaching Master Bruce acting was part of the ruse to get him
to attend…”
“It’s all right, Alfred,” Bruce said, turning back to Dick. “It started out
that way. But she always made it so damn easy…” Bruce stopped, looked down.
“She was easy to be with. I couldn’t help but have fun with her.”
“Good.” For some reason this was important to Dick. He’d spent most of his
life trying to get Bruce to smile, to be happy. It felt somehow comforting
to know that his mother probably had, too. “Tell me, then. Did you love
her?”
Dick didn’t think he knew of anyone that Bruce said had said the words “I
love you” to. Three little words that meant so much, and yet Bruce seemed
incapable of saying them, was inept at most things dealing with his
feelings. But Bruce wasn’t incapable of loving. Dick knew for certain that
Bruce loved him. The younger man couldn’t see it at first; it took
practice. But once Dick knew what to look for, it was there, deeper than
Bruce would ever admit or maybe even realized. He just couldn’t vocalize
it. And Dick knew it was because Bruce was afraid. But that didn’t stop Dick
from asking him, anyway.
“Love?”
“Yes. Love.” Dick felt like a teacher trying to instruct a particularly slow
student. “Did. You. Love. Her.”
Dick watched for Bruce’s reaction. Saw him swallow. Dick realized that Bruce
had loved her. But she had died. Like his parents had died. And Jason. And
so many others.
But, Dick continued to press the issue. Couldn’t seem to stop himself. “It’s
a simple question, Bruce.”
“Not so simple, Master Dick. As I am certain you understand.”
Dick and Alfred had discussed this topic on numerous occasions. Mostly, when
Dick was feeling insecure about his place in Bruce’s life.
“I understand, Alfred. But sometimes it’s nice to hear anyway.” Dick stood.
Moved closer. Only a few feet separating them, just beyond Bruce’s personal
space. “I love you, Bruce. I’m mad as hell right now, but that doesn’t
change the way I feel. And, I want to make sure you know beyond a shadow of
doubt, how I feel about you. Because let me tell you, the doubt hurts. I
just hope my mother didn’t know that kind of hurt.”
He didn’t really expect a response, but was still surprised when Bruce said
nothing, sitting with his head bowed and eyes closed.
Dick suddenly felt tired, and turned away, only to feel a comforting hand on
his shoulder as he did so.
“Perhaps we should retire for the evening. It’s late and I dare say we all
have enough to ponder before heaping additional family chronicles into the
mix.”
Dick nodded, and Alfred squeezed his shoulder.
“You’re room is ready for you.”
Dick shook his head. “I’m needed at home.”
“Yes, you are. This home,” Alfred said, his voice stern.
“Don’t go. Not like this,” Bruce said, his voice so low that Dick strained
to hear him. But he’d heard him, and couldn’t find it in himself to refuse.
“All right.” Dick turned, glanced at Alfred. “Good night, Alfred.”
“Good night, young sir.”
He looked at Bruce. “Bruce.” He walked out without another word.
Dick collapsed onto the bed, the surroundings embracing him with their
familiarity. He was home. And as much as he was comforted by that fact, he
also felt something he hadn’t experienced in a long time--guilt.
Guilt at making this place his home. At looking up to Bruce as a father. At
wanting Bruce to be his father. Dick couldn’t help but feel he was letting
down the man he still mourned. The man who’d evidently known that Dick
wasn’t his biological son, but treated him as one nevertheless. There was so
much Dick needed to process; he just didn’t know where to start.
He sat up, swung his legs over the side of the bed. He needed to talk to
someone. Someone he could trust.
“Babs.”
She was the first person he thought of. The one he’d always turned to when he
needed to vent, especially if the subject he was venting about was Bruce
Wayne. But she wasn’t in Gotham. Even Oracle could take a
sabbatical--especially when Barbara needed time, as she’d said, to regroup
after their engagement had been called off. After he’d been nearly killed.
He picked up the phone regardless, punching the number he hadn’t used in
months. He needed to hear her voice. Even if it was on a stupid recording
telling him she wasn’t home.
“Hello. I’m not home but please leave a message. Otherwise I’ll have to trace
your call and it could get messy.”
He hung up and in less than a minute the phone rang. He should have known
she’d track her calls even if, for all he knew, she was on the other side of
the world.
He smiled. “That was quick.”
“When this particular number registers on my system, I know something has to
be up,” Barbara said. “You at the Manor these days?”
“Just for a bit.” Dick leaned back against the headboard. “You still on
vacation?”
“Vacation. Tactful way to put it, Grayson.”
“What would you call it, then?”
“Running away?”
“From me.” It wasn’t a question. He knew why she left.
“Not well enough, apparently.”
The words stung. “I shouldn’t have called. I’m sorry.” He was about to hang
up.
“I’m sorry, Dick. I shouldn’t have said that.”
It took him a moment before he responded. “What’s happened to us, Babs? If
anything, we used to be friends. We used to be able to talk.”
She was apparently going to let the question hang in the air.
He sighed. “I just thought maybe…”
“Maybe we could be what we were before things got complicated?”
Before, when she was Batgirl and she could walk and she didn’t question his
love for her. Dick knew what she meant.
“Was it that bad?”
“No. It was that good,” she answered softly.
He could suddenly imagine her sitting at the computer, twirling her hair like
she always did when she felt nervous or uncertain. “Then why--”
“Don’t. Please.”
Dick held back a sigh. “I didn’t call to rehash any of this. I just miss
talking to you. Is it too much to ask for?”
“Yes. Right now it is.”
It was Dick’s turn to remain silent. All he’d wanted was to share his life
with her. Thought it was what she’d wanted, too, when she’d said yes to his
proposal of marriage. But he’d gotten hurt and she’d gotten scared.
“I’m sorry, Dick.”
“I know. Me, too.” He shook his head. “Goodbye, Babs.”
He hung up the phone, looked at it for a minute before turning off the light
and lying down, staring blindly into the darkness, waiting for sleep to take
him. It was going to be a long night.
Bruce sat up, ran a hand through sweat-soaked hair. A nightmare. One that
hadn’t plagued him in a long time. He suspected the turmoil of the past
several hours had something to do with the stirring of those particular
emotions. Gunshots. Not unlike the ones he’d heard when he was eight. This
time it wasn’t his parents who were hit by the deadly bullets. It was Mary.
“Mary,” he whispered.
He held his head with both hands, the memory of the dream suddenly replaced by
a throbbing headache. Shutting his eyes, he tried to meditate. His mind,
however, was preoccupied with the situation at hand--Dick.
He sighed, looked at the clock. It seemed that he’d been allowed to sleep in
today. He was relieved. Otherwise the drapes would be drawn with the sun
casting its relentless rays into the room. Alfred had a wicked sense of humor
in the morning.
Standing, he tried to will the pounding in his head into submission, turning
when Alfred entered, carrying a tray with a lone glass of water and a bottle
of aspirin.
“I thought you might have need of this.”
Bruce shook his head, an action he immediately regretted.
“You may want to reconsider.”
This particular tone of Alfred’s never meant good news.
Bruce glared at him, felt the scowl as it crossed his own face. “What now?”
“Master Kent has decided to pay an unexpected visit.”
Bruce should’ve known Kent couldn’t keep his nose out of this. It wasn’t in
his nature. “Damn.”
Alfred handed the pills and glass to Bruce. This time, Bruce didn’t refuse.
“Is Dick awake?”
“Not yet, sir.”
“Good.” Bruce put on his robe, tightened the sash around his waist, and moved
past Alfred. “Maybe I can get Clark out of here before Dick wakes up.”
Clark sat at the kitchen table, making himself comfortable as Alfred had
suggested. He took off his suit jacket and placed it over the adjacent chair,
sipped his coffee, and eavesdropped on Bruce’s conversation with Alfred. It
really paid to have super hearing, sometimes.
“Morning, Bruce,” Clark said as Bruce entered the room, but frowned when he
got a good look at his friend. “You all right?”
Bruce grunted, heading for the coffee while Alfred moved to take Clark’s
jacket from the chair.
Clark chuckled as he watched Alfred carefully drape the coat over his arm and
walk out of the room. Alfred’s propriety always made Clark chuckle. It would
no doubt make his ma bust a gut.
“What are you doing here?” Bruce took a sip of his coffee, glaring at Clark
over the cup’s rim.
“I was worried about Dick. Is everything all right?” Clark tried the direct
approach, although he knew Bruce wouldn’t appreciate him interfering
regardless of what tact he chose. But after putting two and two together on
the Watchtower, he had to make sure his friends were all right.
“You know damn well it isn’t.”
At least Bruce wasn’t in the mood to play games. He knew Clark would figure it
out. Clark was sure of it. After all, Clark was there when the discovery was
made. All he had to do was look at the transporter records.
Clark nodded. “Why didn’t you ever tell him?”
Bruce leaned against the counter. “It’s…complicated.”
“I bet.” Clark stood, faced Bruce. “How’s he taking the news?”
Bruce said nothing, moved to the window, his back to Clark.
Clark didn’t think this would be an easy situation for anyone involved. “I
know how you feel about Dick. And for whatever reason you chose to keep this
from him, it had to be a good one.”
Bruce lowered his head, and Clark took the chance of placing a reassuring hand
on Bruce’s shoulder, squeezing gently. “And if you ever need to talk about any
of this, I’m here to listen.”
Bruce only nodded.
Clark hadn’t expected a reply from Bruce and was surprised when Bruce gave him
this much.
“Hey, Clark. What are you doing here?” Dick asked, walking into the kitchen,
making a beeline for the coffee.
“Good morning, Dick.” Clark frowned, looked from Bruce to Dick. “Does anyone
get any sleep around here? You two look awful.”
“Well, bats are nocturnal,” Dick said, inhaling the coffee’s aroma.
“So this isn’t exactly your best time of day, I gather.”
“I guess you discovered our weakness. We’re not morning people. Must run in
the genes, huh, Bruce?” Dick’s tone was tight.
Clark held his breath, but Bruce ignored the question.
“So Clark, got any plans for the next hour or so?” Dick asked, and Clark could
see Bruce’s back stiffen at the question.
“No? You need something?”
“I was just wondering if that offer to talk extended to other members of the
Wayne family.”
Clark looked from Bruce to Dick, and was relieved when Bruce looked over his
shoulder and gave Clark a slight nod. He didn’t think Dick could notice
Bruce’s consent at his vantage point, so Clark just smiled at Dick and said,
“You know it does.”
Dick put his cup in the sink. “Give me a minute to get dressed?”
Clark sat back in the chair and sipped his coffee. “Take your time.”
Before leaving, Dick went to Bruce and spoke softly. “I need to talk to
someone. Try to understand.”
Bruce nodded, which seemed to satisfy Dick. Clark had the feeling that Bruce
wouldn’t refuse Dick anything at this point.
Dinah hadn’t heard from Barbara for the past few months--not
since Barbara had broken off her engagement and left town. But Barbara’s phone
call today had come as no surprise. Dinah knew Barbara would return
eventually. Gotham was Barbara’s home, after all, and nothing would change
that--not even a broken heart.
Before Dinah could knock on the door, she heard a soft click
and knew Barbara had disengaged the mechanical lock. She opened the door to a
dark room. “Babs? Honey, where are you?”
Barbara turned on the light.
“Why are you sitting in the dark?” Dinah hugged Barbara, happy
to see her again. But when she pulled away, Barbara seemed to have a hard time
making eye contact with her. “What’s wrong?”
“Just something I had to face sooner or later. Now that I’ve
done it, I can get on with my life.” Barbara’s voice was hard, determined. But
Dinah could tell she wasn’t anything except sorrowful, hurt.
“I take it you spoke with Dick?”
Barbara started to roll away. “Yes.”
Dinah sighed and followed her. She guessed this was going to be
done the hard way. “And…?”
Barbara stopped but didn’t turn around. “He thinks I’m still on
vacation. He won’t be calling again.”
“What did you tell him?”
“That I couldn’t go back to the way we were before everything
fell apart. That I couldn’t be there for him.”
“You sure that’s what you want?”
“It’s for the best.” Barbara rolled to the door that hid her
Oracle epicenter and opened it, going inside. “Besides, it’s high time I got
back to work.”
Dinah knew that “get back to work” was Barbara speak for
“discussion over.” So she decided to play along for the time being and changed
the subject. “You know what they say about all work and no play, Babs? I think
a welcome home party is in order, don’t you?”
“I’m really not in the mood for a party.”
“Oh, come one. It’ll be just what the doctor ordered. Promise.”
Barbara grinned. “Girls only slumber party, maybe?”
Dinah smiled. They’d used to do that a lot--she, Helena, and
Babs. But then Barbara left and their little group dispersed. “You bet. But I
get to hire the entertainment.”
“Male stripper?”
“Of course.”
Barbara rolled to her computer, intertwined her fingers
together and gave them a good stretch. But she seemed to hesitate turning it
on.
And Dinah knew why. “He’ll find out you’re home sooner or
later.”
“I know.” She booted up her system and the whole room seemed to
come to life. “I have a job for you, by the way.”
Dinah laughed. She should have known Barbara would be keeping
tabs on everything. Even while on her so-called vacation. “I guess my
vacation is over, too. Where am I headed?”
“Nowhere. The job’s right here.”
Dinah snorted. “In Bat territory?”
“Just a fact-finding mission. Beneath the Bat’s radar. Sorta.”
“Sorta? Why don’t I like the sound of that?”
Alfred knew he’d find Bruce in the study. The room had always
been Bruce’s favorite place to think; he’d gaze up at the portrait of his
parents, no doubt wondering if they’d approve of him and the decisions he’d
made throughout his life. This time was no different.
“It’s funny how he never noticed the family resemblance. He
looks just like her,” Bruce said, looking at the image of his mother.
Alfred nodded. “I think Master Dick is only now realizing the
similarities he shares with you. Both the physical and emotional.”
“He’s better than I can ever hope to be.”
“Don’t sell yourself short. You’ve done well for him. And for
yourself, I might add.”
“I don’t think he’d agree.”
“Give him time.”
Bruce nodded.
“And what of your other son? He’ll be home this evening from
his weekend getaway.” Tim would have to be told. He was, after all, now an
official part of this family.
“He won’t understand.”
“I think you underestimate your sons. And their feelings for
you.”
Bruce shook his head. “Things could have been so different. If
only…”
“It wasn’t your fault.” This was an old conversation first held
when it was discovered Dick was Bruce’s biological son. After Mary and John
Grayson were killed. Bruce blamed himself for their deaths.
“I should have never left Gotham all those years ago. I should
have stayed here with Mary. She’d be alive today if I stayed.”
“You would have been no good to her. Not in the state you were
in. Gotham was the last place you needed to be, and Mary understood that.”
“Did she? Will Dick?”
“Yes.”
“I don’t even understand. How will he?”
Alfred placed a hand on Bruce’s shoulder. “Master Dick loves
you. As did his mother.”
He left Bruce to his thoughts, knowing Bruce would find it
difficult to discuss what had happened with Mary, but Dick needed to
understand why Bruce had had to leave her.
**
Clark sat in a chair on the veranda, watched as Dick paced, and
remembered the high-energy young boy Dick had been when Clark first met him
all those years ago. Some things never changed.
Dick stopped and spun around, threw his hands up in apparent
exasperation. “Can you believe it?”
“I would never have guessed but now that I know…yes. I can
believe it.”
Dick lowered his head and nodded. “Yeah. Me, too.”
“I’m not sure what Bruce’s reasons were for not telling you,
but if I know Bruce, they were good ones.”
“Believe it or not, I understand why he didn’t tell me. I don’t
like it, but I understand.”
“Then talk to me. Tell me what’s really going on with you.”
“Did you know that Bruce and my mother went to school
together?”
“No.”
“Bruce and Alfred told me about it.” Dick shook his head. “Just
yesterday, I thought they never even knew each other. Then this. It’s just
so…weird.”
Clark had had his own version of family weirdness he’d dealt
with when he’d learned he wasn’t the Kents’ biological son--that he wasn’t
even human. He could understand what Dick was going through all too well.
Dick sighed, sat down. “No one could ever replace my father.”
Clark knew who Dick was talking about--John Grayson. “I don’t
think Bruce ever thought he could.”
“I know. But after a while, I wanted him to.” Dick ran a hand
through his hair. “I struggled with the guilt of that for a long time. And
now…”
“Now you find out Bruce is your father.”
Dick nodded.
“And you’re feeling guilty because you really do want this?”
“That’s it in a nutshell, I guess.” Dick seemed to choke back
tears.
“No one will ever take away what John Grayson was in your
life.”
“I don’t want his role in my life diminished. And I feel that
it has been. By Bruce. By me. I just don’t know how to come to terms with
that. A part of me doesn’t even want to.”
“I understand.”
“You do?”
“I was feeling pretty much the same as you when I found out Ma
and Pa weren’t my natural parents. Especially after I got to know my
biological parents through the computer archives from the craft that sent me
here.”
“What were they like?”
“They seemed…amazing. And right. Everything fell into place for
me after knowing about them. I felt complete. Less lonely, even. But I also
felt guilty. I thought I was being disloyal to the two people who raised me as
their own son.”
“Did the Kents understand?”
“Yes. And they helped me to understand that by embracing my
parents and my heritage, I was in no way being disloyal to them.”
Dick looked down. “You think my dad would have understood?”
“Kiddo, you seem to forget that I met you shortly after you
came to live with Bruce. You were an impressive kid. John Grayson was
responsible for that. So from the little I know of your dad through you, I
have no doubt that he would have understood.”
The tears began to flow freely. Dick took a breath and stood.
“I know what I need to do.” He looked at Clark. “Thank you, Clark.”
Clark smiled. The kid was still impressive. “Any time, kiddo.”