Bruce Wayne and his adopted son, Dick Grayson, were busy cleaning up the mess that the Talons had left behind after the battle. Bruce noticed, after Damien had left, how quiet Dick had become. Bruce continued to pack up the books that were in the large library alongside of him. After nearly thirty minutes of silence, Bruce asked the twenty-one year old what was bothering him.
"Do you have something you need to ask me?"
Bruce couldn't help but notice the sudden tension in the younger man's shoulders after he had spoken. When Dick finally spoke, it was in a voice so soft that Bruce almost couldn't hear the words.
"Would you have sent me away?"
Frowning, Bruce finished putting the books in his hands into box, and walked over to his son. "What exactly do you mean by that?"
Dick turned to face the man who had taken him in so long ago. "If I had been as defiant as Damien . . . I wonder, would you have sent me away, too?" He asked him.
"Dick, you know I wouldn't have . . ." Bruce thought he understood where this was coming from.
"And yet, you send Damien away because he's unmanageable! Is that it?" Dick interrupted; his voice rising in response to his upset. "Bruce, he's just a kid!"
The younger man turned to him, and Bruce almost flinched at the look in his son's eyes.
"Dick, listen to me . . . I know what Damien said to you in the cave when I wasn't there. Certainly, you know that you're my son, too. I care about you just as much as I do Damien. When it comes to my children, blood doesn't mean a damn thing! You are both my sons in all the ways that matter."
Dick sat down on one of the boxes and blew out a breath in frustration.
"That doesn't answer my question, Bruce, and you know it," he told him.
"He refused to control his emotions. The boy was a danger both to himself and to others," Bruce explained. He hesitated before adding, "I . . . I was also sent away when I was his age. I didn't go long; just the time it took in order to gain some self-control."
"So, like father, like son . . ." Dick commented as he gazed on the gardens outside the library's window.
Bruce gently placed a hand on Dick's injured shoulder. "Dick, if you were misguided and out of control to the point of harming yourself or others, then yes, I would have sent you away had I thought it would help you. But I would have taken you back with open arms when you returned. Much like I did when you turned away from this place and went to find your own wings. You chose to leave four years ago, but you came back on your own. I love you Dick, and no amount of time will ever change that. Neither will my having another son, biological or otherwise."
Dick put his head in his hands and let out a long breath. "I don't get it, though, why you did it. How you could let a ten year old go out into the world all on his own? I mean . . . I wasn't allowed out of your sight for five minutes when I was ten."
Bruce pulled up a chair and sit across from him.
"Dick, I know I was very strict with you, but I learned something since taking you in. I've learned that a new parent is more protective with his first child. It doesn't seem to matter whether that child is adopted or not. But then child number two comes along and because of all the stunts the eldest managed to live through, you can be more lenient because you realize that the second child is going to be okay."
Bruce leaned over and patted his leg. "It's called having faith. I have to have faith that when he returns he will be the son I need him to be."
"What kind of son is that? Who do you need him to be?" Dick stared down at the floor between their feet as he waited for Bruce to answer. When no answer was forthcoming, he continued.
"You say he'll return when he's the son you need him to be. But what kind of son is it you're expecting? What kind of son is it that you want exactly?" Dick asked. He looked pained in ways that transcended the mere physical. "Am I the son you need me to be; the kind you want to have? I know that I was a rotten kid who ran off because I was angry at you years ago . . . Hell, the only reason I came back was because I knew you were in trouble. Then I found some kid fighting goons; nearly killing them, who claimed to be your son."
Bruce sighed. That obviously hadn't come out right. He tried again. "Dick, what is our family motto?"
He met his father's gaze as he answered. "To seek justice; not vengeance. To fight fair even when the enemy doesn't; and when in doubt to get the hell out. But above all, family comes first."
Bruce's lip quirked at the addition of that last bit. "Yes, and that is something Damian needs to learn."
A thought occurred to Dick. "You're not punishing Damian because of that Talon's death, are you? He didn't kill him..."
Bruce put a hand up silencing him. "I know, I saw what happened. Damian is not being punished. You are about as thick-headed as he is. How many times do I have to repeat myself? He is not being punished?"
Both were silent for several moments before Dick said softly. "You know, Damian told me that you loved him more because he was blood and I was just some orphan you took pity on..."
"Richard John Grayson!" Bruce watched as his adopted son was startled enough to look him in the eyes. "I love you both just the same. I don't give a damn if he's blood and you are not! Or that I have known you longer. Both of you are my children. At this point in our lives, you have to realize that blood means nothing to me. If I hadn't loved you from the beginning, I would have never taken you in when you were little. Even in the hardest times, when you first became Robin, the thought of giving up on you or sending you away never crossed my mind."
"Okay, you're right. I know this. I guess . . . I guess he just hurt my feelings is all." Dick chuckled.
Bruce leaned forward in the old chair; lightly placing his hand once more on his son's shoulder. "Words hurt. They can cut deeper than any knife."
Dick thought about what his father was saying and told him quickly. "You're not just talking about what Damian said are you?"
Bruce shook his head. "When you and I had that fight years ago, we both said things that we've regretted. Tim had told me about your conversation up on that roof..."
Dick noticed his father's emotions and he said to him as he wrapped his arms around his neck. His shoulders hurt from the motion but right now his father was finally after all these years... Grieving over the loss of his son.
Bruce pulled back and told him. "Thanks..."
Dick smiled and told him. "You weren't the only one to lose someone that night... I lost a brother. And don't worry, you won't be losing any more children. Not me, not Damian."
Bruce had a haunted look in his eyes as he looked at the destroyed remains of the library. Jason would avoid it at all costs when he was at home.
"Bruce... It's okay to miss him. It's okay to cry over his death. Just know you still have me and Tim, and you still have Damian."
Bruce nodded and saw that the sun was quickly setting on the horizon. "We better head down to dinner, you know how Alfred is about us being late."
Dick smiled, knowing he had helped mend a wound that his father had been bearing for years. Now it was time to mend bridges between them as father and son. Dick was not leaving the manor and going back to his apartment after what had happened.
After all, Batman needs his Robin.