A Chance to Say Goodbye

by Marla Fair

An Elsewhere's Tale following the continuity of Kingdom Come - a tale of Nightwing and Nightstar. Can father and daughter survive the death of Starfire - and her seeming resurrection?

1. Haunted

One:Haunted

"Dad.

"Dad!

"Daddy! Wake up! Please, wake up! You're scaring me.

"Dad!"

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Dick Grayson's ice blue eyes flew open without focus. His heart was beating wildly and he had no conscious notion of where he was or why he was weeping. His arms ached for something they had not held in ages and he was suddenly startled as a warm form, it's heart beating apace with his own fell into them, wrapping him in concern and holding him tight.

"Dad? What is it? X'Hal, you scared me. I've never heard you cry out like that before. Dad….?"

His mind was working slowly as though it hadn't been oiled in months. This was his child. A daughter. He placed his hand on her straight black hair, smooth as silk, and felt a sob rise within him. "Nightstar?" he whispered, swallowing the desire to scream. "Honey, I…. I don't…." He blinked and shifted back on the bed away from her, running strong hands across his face and through black hair winged with silver. "What are you doing here?"

Dark brows formed a 'v' like a raven's tail and a heart-shaped face tipped sideways, jade green eyes without pupils pinning him. "I live here," she intoned slowly as though he were a remedial student bereft of sense or the ability to learn, "remember? Me, Nightstar. You, Dad…. I thought the doc said you were all right in the head now. Skull too thick to crack, or something like that." She grinned, but it was only to hide her fear. Her slender hand gently brushed his forehead where the scar still showed from the last battle. That horrible battle. Feeling very young and vulnerable she shuddered, resisting the urge to clasp him tight. "You are all right…?"

Finally coming to himself a bit Dick Grayson heard the fear echo in his only child's voice and taking a deep breath, sought to reassure her. "I'm fine, honey. Sorry I scared you. I guess it was a nightmare…"

"Must have been some nightmare." She shifted off the bed and away from his arms, pulling her pale green nightshirt about light golden shoulders. "It sounded like your best friend had died ~ " Nightstar winced. It was too late to take it back. She scrunched up her pretty face and ducked her head. "Sorry, Dad, that was thoughtless…"

"It's okay, princess. We've all been hurt. It will mend…with time."

Or so they told him.

His daughter left the room and him, planting a quick kiss on his forehead as she slipped out into the darkened hall. They had just returned to their own home after months of recovery under her 'grandfather's' watchful eye and things were still a little odd. They didn't know each other at all that well anymore and were trying to feel out just what they were to each other. Friends? Nightstar and Daddy? Or more honestly, perhaps, strangers. Since Kory's death they had withdrawn from each other, both enjoying their own private hells. He had been too hard. She had been too wild. He had pushed and when she should have bent, she had broken. They had lost one another.

It had only taken the end of the world to put them back together. And where did they go from there….?

Shaking his head, he walked to the bathroom mirror and tossed cold water in his face. This was the third…no… fourth night in a row that he had had the dream. Each night he awakened breathless, aching, his heart pounding and his breath rapid. Tonight had been different only because he had had an audience. Nightstar had been at her grandfather's ~ at Bruce's ~ over the weekend. Tonight she had come home.

And he was grateful, because tonight ~ unlike all of the others ~ he had been unable to wake. He could remember clearly the sensation of suffocation, of slipping further and further away through waves of something thick and viscous, a solid liquid that filled his lungs and throat. He had been trying to yell. Crying out. Reaching for something…or someone….

Sitting on the edge of the bed he sighed, ran his hands over his face again and flopped back, staring at the ceiling. He had every right to have nightmares. Less than four months had passed since the end of everything. Since Donna and Roy, Garth and so many others had died in a battle the likes of which had never been seen. He had almost been killed. His child had been exposed to radiation that would have left her ~ if not for the ministrations of STAR labs and other alien technologies ~scarred for life. He had seen more death and destruction in one day than he had ever dared to believe possible, including the death of many of his ideals. It was not like he had no excuse to fall prey to night terrors, and yet ~ this was something more. Something all too real.

Suppressing a shudder he sat up again and reached for the robe at the end of his bed, pausing as his hand hit the soft worn fabric. It was at least as old as Nightstar and threadbare in places. Kory had given it to him just before she found out she was ex pect~

"Dick?"

The voice made him start and his lightning fast reflexes propelled him off of the bed and halfway across the room before he turned. There was nothing there. He could feel the robe in his hand and the carpet beneath his feet. He was awake. But he had heard…. Feeling like an idiot, he whispered, "Kory?"

Silence greeted him. The silence of the dead.

"You're spooking yourself, Grayson. Get a grip." He pulled on the robe relishing its soft caress and turned to leave the room. There before him, reflected in the mirror a familiar form drifted, the result of his subconscious desire. It had to be the result of his subconscious desire ~ otherwise he was going mad. He took a step toward the pale vision and as he did, it dissipated, losing form even as its arms reached out towards him, pleading.

"Help me."

Moments later his hand pressed against the now empty glass as tears ran down his pale cheeks. "I tried, Kory. God knows I tried."

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The day had been grueling. He had spent it at the side of a man he greatly admired and sought to emulate, seeking to help him reclaim what was left of the state he had once called home. There was great joy to be found in handing out grain with which people could plant new fields and make a new beginning. Superman had done much to erase the signs of the battle of the metahumans, but it was all too clear in Red Robin's mind's eye. He would be forever scarred, unable to forget the flash of light and the images it had burnt into his brain. There was no describing the waste of life. The destruction of innocence. By the time the day ended he was bone-weary and feeling every one of his forty-two years…and maybe a few more. Superman had offered him a 'ride' and he had taken it, remaining silent, caught in memories of those long gone and not so long gone and wondering why of them all he was still here. Maybe for his child. Thank God, she was still here as well.

Clark had dropped him off giving him one of those knowing fatherly looks that said, "We'll talk later', and then was off in a flurry of red and blue, rising boldly into the night sky, winging west to meet with Diana. Dick stood and watched him for a moment and then turned to face his home and his own lonely bed with trepidation. At least Nightstar should be waiting for him.

But when he got inside she was nowhere to be found. There was a brief note. "Out with Ibn." He sighed and crushed the scented paper between shaking fingers. He wasn't really sure what he thought of that relationship. She was over eighteen. It really should be her choice, but …. Visions of Ra's al Ghul and his cool, calculating child filled his mind. Talia had wanted Bruce. Wanted him to be her father's successor. Unable to obtain that, she had done the next best thing. Obtained his seed. Had his child. He swallowed hard. He wasn't even certain what he thought about that yet, let alone Bruce's dark son courting his only child. It was bound to be a match made in heaven …or hell. Probably the latter. He tossed the note in the trash, sighing. She knew his opinion. For now that would have to do. He didn't want to alienate her again.

"God, Kory, why couldn't you have had a boy? Why have you left me here alone? I feel so…." He paused, realizing he was speaking out loud. Inadequate. That's what he felt. Really inadequate.

Sitting down he picked up the book of Themyscaran sonnets Donna had given him the year before on his birthday ~ a less than subtle hint ~ and began to read. But no sooner had his hand touched the ancient leather than he felt his head begin to nod. Damn, he was getting old! Still, it had been a long hard day, hard emotionally and physically. He would just fall asleep for a second and then he would be able to read until his child came home.

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The sky was black, even though it was near midday. Rain poured like tears from heaven soaking the small trembling girl who held her father's hand tightly, seeking to comfort him. He hadn't been able to speak for three days. All he could manage was to hold her and caress her shining hair. He couldn't bear to let her out of his sight, as though somehow his watchfulness could keep her safe ~ even though he had failed her mother. Failed his wife. Failed himself.

Before him the sodden earth yawned, swallowing the silver and lavender coffin that held the mortal remains of his beloved and the dreams he had had of a long life together. He knew he was still in shock. Caught in disbelief. Three days before she had been so alive…so vital… Now…. He hadn't even been able to say goodbye to her. The pathogen that struck her had moved so quickly there had been no time. It had simply sucked the life out of her, tearing her from him and from her child. She had never awakened from the coma. Never responded to his touch. Never known he was there. He had moved heaven and earth to save her, even dealing with Bruce again, but for nothing. She had slipped away without a sound, leaving him alone to care for their small child when he knew he couldn't even take care of himself without her.

A soft touch on his shoulder had drawn him back from his reverie and at that moment he recognized Donna's gentle voice as she attempted to pull Nightstar's small hand from his. He reached for her, suddenly terrified, but Donna gently held him back, kissing his wet cheek as she whispered, "It's freezing, Dick. You're both soaked to the skin. You need to come inside."

He shook his dark head, unable to tear his ice blue eyes away from the brown earth as it rained down on the ornate lid of the metal box that held the earthly remains of his Tamaranean wife..

"Dick, think of your child. She'll get sick. You both will."

"Daddy?" Nightstar's small voice broke through the cloud that engulfed him, threatening to eclipse everything but his pain. He glanced at her and her large green eyes so much like her mother's fastened on him. "Daddy, I'm sorry…."

"Sweetie, Daddy's going to wait here a minute or so. You come with me."

"No, I don't want to." The little girl stamped her feet, splashing mud on Donna's leggings. " I want to stay. Please don't make me…."

Dick looked up at her, his eyes filled with unshed tears. "Go on," he whispered, his voice rough with grief, "I need to be alone."

As Donna moved the small girl away her cries tore into his very soul, but he felt unable to cope with her open expression of grief anymore. His feelings were more complex and he knew, unlike his little girl that once he said goodbye, once he walked away, it was over. He would never see her face again. Never hear her voice. She would be dead. Eternally dead and gone.

He knelt beside the newly filled grave, remaining as the workers moved the crane away, lingering as night descended and the pale bloated moon rose in a sky still peppered with clouds. At last, when everyone had gone he sat in silence, his head bowed, his trembling hands digging into the earth, seeking to find her, to feel her touch one more time. Suddenly, unexpectedly, cold white fingers found his. The dirt beneath him began to heave and shift and the pale sun-deprived corpse of his wife began to rise from its resting place, ratted locks of crimson hair shifting in the breeze about her fallen cheeks. Her eyes, flat and lifeless, fixed him and she pleaded, bone-thin hands caressing his sweat-soaked skin, "Dick, I need you. Where are you? Save me…."

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"Dad? Dad, come on. This is getting old. Dad!"

Nightstar glanced over her shoulder at the door where Ibn had just bid her farewell. Could he have made it to his car yet? Was she going to have to call for help?

"Dad…."

They had had a wonderful night. Ibn, as always, had been the soul of graciousness. He had taken her to a private restaurant where, as usual, he had purchased all of the seats to save them from prying eyes. He had remembered to fill the room with roses ~ red and white ~ her favorites and had pulled out her chair, seating her, planting a platonic kiss on the top of her hair much like her Dad used to do when she was little. They had talked for hours, laughing and drinking until she had realized that, as usual, he had said very little about himself and learned an awful lot about her. Some time later when he returned her to her home, those keen eyes of his fixed on her as she exited the limo and moved into the house, she felt flustered and uncertain. Had she just spent an enjoyable evening with the most 'drop dead' gorgeous man she had ever met, or had she been part of an experiment? Why did she always come away from their dates feeling like a pet rat?

And yet, a night with Ibn left her always wanting more….

Confused, excited, breathless, she had closed the door with a sigh, remembering the sweetness of his breath and the soft touch of his elegant long fingers only to be startled by the form of her dad asleep in the chair by the fireplace. He looked gray and fatigued and was still in his soiled Red Robin uniform, the hood thrown back to show his handsome time-worn features and his sabled hair. She had crossed to gently kiss him goodnight when she realized he was cold to the touch, his strong lean frame bathed in sweat. Taking him by the shoulders she gently shook him, expecting him to wake, but he hadn't. Terrified, she had taken hold of him and roughly shaking him caused a stray lock of his black hair to fall across eyes clamped shut in pain.

And then she had realized he wasn't breathing.

Though in reality no more than two minutes had passed, Nightstar felt it had been a hundred years.

"Dad! Cut this out! You're scaring the hell out of me!"

"Dad!"

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooDeep within the grip of his nightmare vision, Dick Grayson heard his child calling him but couldn't answer. His lungs seemed to be filled with the same thick viscous liquid that had made it impossible for him to speak before. He drew in a breath and gagged, reeling back in horror as the white phantom that had been his wife shifted, seeming to notice the girl for the first time.

"'Star?" She whispered quietly, her wide soulless eyes blinking within their gaunt frame. "Nightstar, don't wake him.! I need to tell him!" Her beloved face turned toward him, the veil of death obscuring the lips he had kissed, the golden skin he had caressed. White fingers caressed his cheeks. Cold white fingers running through his hair in desperation. "Dick! Hear me. Help me! Please!"

Terrified for his child, for himself…terrified of the sick reality of this vision, he reached up and pried her fingers loose, casting her away. In his dream he fell to his knees, gasping for breath, too weak to move.

But then from far away came the voice of his child once again. She was screaming, crying. He could hear his name. He forced his head up and could no longer see the vision of Koriand'r. With a start, he realized she must have fled in search of her daughter! Pressing off of the ground he swam up through a mire of confusion, calling for his child. He had to reach her first. Make her see that this hideous creature wasn't her mother ~ couldn't be her mother….

"Nightstar…. Princess, I'm~"

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The raven-haired beauty drew in a deep breath as her father's eyes flashed open and he gasped like a swimmer breaking the surface after too many minutes within the water's cloying embrace. Uncertain, she stopped her strong hands in mid-air, hesitating before bringing them down in another crashing blow on his chest. Beneath the dark somber reds and grays his skin was already beginning to bruise, the result of her frantic attempts to make him breathe.

Raising his sore body on one elbow, Dick Grayson coughed spasmodically and blinked away tears. His daughter threw her arms about him and began to cry. "Dad, I was so scared…. Daddy, I love you. Don't you dare leave me alone…."

The former boy wonder just sat holding her tight, feeling tears run down his own cheeks. She was trembling like a little bird, her heart pounding hard and fast.

Beyond his melancholy. Beyond the fact that after ten years he missed his wife so bad he still felt the ache of her loss everyday in his bones. Beyond this….

Something was definitely wrong.

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Some time later Nightstar sat in the bedroom she had occupied as a child, balled up in the corner of the bed shaking. For the last few years she had survived… No, had existed within her anger and now that she had given it up, she had no where to hide. Now that she had admitted not only to the world, but to herself that she loved her Dad, she was suddenly seized with the thought that she might lose him. She had already almost lost him on that horrible day… the day so many of the others had died. If it hadn't been for the speed and strength she had inherited from her alien mother, he would be dead now… vaporized on the field of battle or dead from the blow 666 had given to his all too human skull.

And if he had died, it would have been her fault. Just like her mother's death all those years ago had been her fault. She closed her jade green eyes and rocked back and forth slowly, sick and frightened. She could still see her Mom, see her beautiful form as she awoke her that day. She could remember every item on the breakfast tray she had brought her in bed, the scent of her hair as it brushed her fevered cheek. It was all burnt on her mind's eye with frightening clarity.

Even then Koriand'r had been dying ~ though no one had known it. If only she had remembered… If only she had been able to warn her in time.

Sniffling, she threw her long black hair over her shoulder and stared out the window at the

star- filled sky. That day, at the cemetery, she had tried to tell her Dad she was sorry, but he hadn't been able to hear her. He had never forgiven her, just as she had never forgiven herself.

Aunt Donna had been the only one she had ever told and she had informed her that she was being silly. The beautiful Amazon had always been able to make her feel better, even when they disagreed. She had told her to tell her Dad, to free herself from the past…but she had never been able to do it. When it mattered, she had failed him. And in failing him, she became afraid. Afraid that one day he would die too and she would be at fault.

And then Aunt Donna had died too. And again, in a way, it was her fault.

She stood and walked to the window feeling lost and hopeless. She had checked on her Dad and he was sleeping peacefully in his bed, but rest eluded her. Something was wrong. Something was haunting him and she knew what it was. The same thing that haunted her… her mom.

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In the morning Dick Grayson awoke to find his daughter curled up in a ball at the end of his bed, her dark hair draped across his feet.

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"Clark, can we talk?"

The older man tipped his head toward his companion and lowered the steel girder he was hoisting into place, finishing the infra-structure of one of the many buildings being reconstructed on the reclaimed plains of Kansas. The sun shone brilliantly off of his whited temples and cast his keen eyes into shadow.

"Talk? About?"

Red Robin glanced about, dropping his voice as he indicated the top of another unoccupied structure nearby. "Can you ~ ?"

The man known to the world as Superman checked the monstrous beam making certain it was anchored properly and then he clapped dust off of his hands. "Something personal?"

"Very."

There was a moment of silence and then a nod. "Let me give some instructions and then we'll be ~ up, up and away…."

Red Robin grinned. "Cut that out."

Superman shifted so the light hit his pale blue eyes. "Just wanted to see you smile."

Moments later they were standing on the top of a recently completed three story building, the dawn light about them painting the autumn sky and the brick structure a pale golden-pink. Dick slipped the dark hood off of his face and ran a hand across a slightly grizzled face. His friend studied him a moment and then commented evenly, "You don't look so good."

Dick met his eyes and then looked at the backs of his hands. "I haven't been sleeping. At least… not well."

"Yes…?"
The man who was Red Robin sat down crossing his legs beneath him. "It's just that… I've been having these…dreams…."

The other man shifted, his shadow falling across him. "And…?"

Dick's head was in his hands. "Kory's in them. She's not dead but not… alive. She's…." He paused and took a deep breath, raising eyes wet with tears. "God, Clark, how long does it take? Don't you ever….?"

Clark's blue eyes narrowed and his face assumed a faraway cast. "No. Never."

Dick was startled. "Not even now? With Diana? I thought…."

Silence fell again as the giant of a man sat beside him, tossing his red cape sideways so the yellow 'S' flashed in the sun. "How many years has it been…? Ten? Fifteen? " He hesitated and then sighed, "One? It might as well have been. I can still see her… vibrant …alive. Just as I left her at the Planet before the Joker…."

"You don't have to go through it, Clark. I just thought ~"

"That it would get better eventually? It does."

"But you said~"

"I said, you never forget. Never. But you do move on. You have to or you go mad. It's as simple as that."

Dick was silent a long while. Overhead others, metahumans and aliens, flew past carrying on the work of restoration. "I think I may have done that."

Clark's eyebrows soared. "Moved on?"

"No. Gone mad."

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"Dad, do you want me to stay in your room tonight? I can sleep on the floor."

"No, honey. I'm okay. It was just a dream."

"But you weren't breathing. I couldn't hear your heart."

Dick pushed his daughter's raven hair away from her forehead and planted a kiss on it, feeling her hands press against his bruised chest. She had really hit him hard. "Princess, I'm really sorry I scared you. I think you just got frightened and panicked a little. I was just ~"

Her foot stamped down barely missing his as fire lit her great green eyes reminding him sharply of her deceased mother. "I am not exaggerating! You weren't breathing. You were white as a sheet and clammy like ~ " She stopped, her heart pounding hard. "Stop treating me like a child."

She pulled free of his grip and went to stare out the window, her back to him. He could feel the walls going up and was sorry for whatever he had done to erect them in the first place. "Nightstar, I don't think of you as a child. I'm sorry if it seems that way. You have to realize its hard for me to think of you as an adult, and yet, you're practically the same age your mother was when we first met…. It's just… A nightmare can't kill you," he laughed, trying to make light of her fear.

She turned sharply and met his eyes, her own steady and shining. "Don't be so sure. Mom thought that too. Look where it got her."

"What?" Her father took a step toward her. "What do you mean by that ~"

She brushed past him. "Forget it! I'm going out. You go to sleep and take your own chances. I'm not going to hang around and be the one to find the body." And with that, she was out the door and gone.

Several minutes later his ears were still ringing from the force with which she had slammed the front door. He sat on the edge of the bed and buried his face in his hands. God, he was tired. But despite what he had told his child ~ he was afraid to fall asleep. So much so that he had taken something to keep him awake ~ and that was something he had never done before.

Several hours later he sat beside the fire in the living room staring at an old family album filled with photos from happier times. Kory was there, so was Nightstar as a carefree little girl, toddling from one parent to the other. There were pictures too of Donna and Roy. Of Garth and the others. His hand caressed one well-worn photo of his wife. She was glowing and radiant.

Five days later she was dead.

His hand on the photo, he stared at the flames in the fireplace, replaying the conversation he had had with Clark that morning on the summit of a man-made mountain of bricks and steel.

"No," he had said in response to Clark's assertion that he had chosen to move on, "Gone mad."

Clark placed a wide hand on his shoulder briefly and asked in a quiet voice, "Can you tell me about it?"

He closed his eyes and began to speak, relating what he remembered of the dreams he had had and of the months and years before that, longing for, unable to forget his beautiful wife, the love of his life, the mother of his child. Clark listened without speaking, nodding his head occasionally, his own eyes growing dreamy, his mouth set in a line.

"At least you had a child…"

Dick looked up at him, suddenly feeling very selfish, and apologized. "I'm sorry. I've made you remember. I didn't mean~"

Clark shook his head. "No. It's good to remember." He took a deep breath and looked at his hands where they were clasped together in his lap. "Sometimes I go days now without thinking of her. I think… I think perhaps that has allowed her to move on as well."

"What do you mean?"

Clark laughed. "It's something Diana believes. That we keep the dead near us by our stubborn refusal to let them move on. And that they in turn suck life from us in order to stay." He grinned and tilted his head. "She has been to Hell you know…"

Dick looked away. "So have I."

Clark's hand returned to his shoulder. "I don't know what to say. I will never forget Lois, I wouldn't want to… but I have begun to remember her without pain. Diana has given me that. Perhaps it is time you ~ "

Dick smiled sadly. "Now you sound like Donna. She even tried to set me up a few times … never worked out. I couldn't ~"

"Or wouldn't …"

"Yeah."

They sat in silence a moment, united in a common pain that though long past, knit their hearts together as one.

"Thanks, Clark. I couldn't have talked to Bruce. Not about this… Not even now."

Clark looked away, and then turned to face him, his eyes narrowed. "Bruce is a good man. He feels deeply. Perhaps too deeply."

"I know. But… he's never been married and… he didn't really care for Kory…."

"He loves you. In that, he loved her. And he cares a great deal for your daughter."

"Yeah, but Bruce is…well….closed. I couldn't talk to him like this. He wouldn't… I know him. He'd change the subject. He's ~ "

"He's never let go. He hasn't moved on. His parents' deaths are as real to him today as they were thirty years ago."

Dick's grin was pale, but it was there. "Are you saying he's mad?"

Superman looked startled and then shaking his head stood, his over six foot frame casting a mighty shadow.

"If the cowl fits." He held a hand out to his young friend and smiled. "Come on, Dick, we have work to do."

Red Robin pulled his cowl forward to mask his features and took his friend's hand, holding it a moment before allowing himself to be pulled in so they could begin the descent to the dotted plain.

"Thanks Clark, for everything."

Superman met his eyes and said tersely, "Bruce is a good man. You should talk to him. He knows a lot about love and loss."

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At four a.m., lost and unable to sleep, Bruce was about the only person he could talk to.

He had left a note for Nightstar, hoping she wouldn't panic at his absence ~ hoping she would come home to notice he was absent. He had thrown on a soft shirt and pair of jeans along with his bike helmet and ridden over, arriving just as the first rays of the rising sun heralded another day. Now he stood without the entrance to the restored Manor, his foot on the first step, hesitating. What would he say? "Hi, Bruce, I'm falling apart and I came to you to put me back together … again…." It hadn't been that long since he had left Bruce's care. The older man had watched over him, nursing him back to health along with Nightstar and others after ~ After the end of everything that had been.

Exhausted, weary beyond words he leaned his forehead against the newly refurbished mahogany beams of the old manor house thinking. What was he really seeking here? Sympathy? Empathy? Or, like his daughter, just the arms of a 'daddy', someone who would hold him and make it all right?

Dick Grayson laughed out loud and ran a hand through his dark hair. Like that would ever happen….

Getting back on his bike he turned and rode away into the brightening sky.

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In the cave, far below, the sound echoed hollowly from cavern wall to cavern wall. Two straight figures, one held in place by a series of metal tubes that formed an exterior exo-skeleton, the other by strength of purpose, watched him go. A hand ringed with bright blue fabric the color of a summer sky fell on the shoulder of the man cloaked in black and gray, daring to touch, seeking permission.

"Well," he said after a moment.

The other man steepled his long fingers after cueing a camera that tracked the young man's movements, ascertaining the direction he headed was towards his home. Dark blue eyes narrowed beneath salt and pepper brows. After a second he toggled another switch and the screen flickered. Moments later the image of the man he had raised and loved, lost and found, was replaced with that of a small boy caught in the act of purse-snatching.

"Ex-13, Bayside. Be gentle."

"Bruce. What are you going to do?"

His eyes never leaving the screen, the gray haired man replied grimly. "About what?"

Superman sighed, shifting so he leaned against the computer, forcing the other man to look at him. "About Dick… and Koriand'r."

"I see no need to do anything. Everything is as it was. No need to change."

A low rumble escaped the throat of the titanic figure followed by a deep breath and the name, "Bruce…"
The man who was and had been the Batman shifted in his seat and swiveled to face

the tall alien as though he were an opponent. "No lectures. Dick is his own man. He's strong. He has survived all these years and he will survive this. Death is permanent. He will have to accept that." He gave another curt instruction to his robotic Batman and watched him gently lift the small boy from his feet and into the sky. "We all have to."

Superman pushed off the board and moved into the center of the cave, glancing about as though he were employing his legendary x-ray vision. A moment later he said quietly, "You and I both know that isn't true. Not now… not then.

"Bruce, you are going to have to tell him. If you don't, I will."

Bruce Wayne spun in his black leather chair, anger kissing his aging patrician features. "Is that a threat?"

Steel blue eyes greeted his. "Take it as you will. It is time for the truth. Something has changed, in him, with her…. Have you even checked…?"

"God, yes, every day. Nothing has changed."

"Then he needs to know that. Let them go. Let it end."

And with that he was gone.

Bruce leaned forward placing his elbows on the blinking control board before him, lost in thought. Moments later, a familiar voice spoke from the cloak of inky shadows behind him.

"Bruce, what is it I need to know?"