Disclaimer: All characters belong to DC and Time/Warner; this is an original story that doesn't intend to infringe on their copyright. Feedback is welcome.
Copyright March 2000
****
Reversal of Fortune by Syl Francis
****
Nightwing gasped for breath. The Wildebeests had been almost impossible to stop. Unlike before, these weren't ordinary men in suits. These Wildebeests were real monsters. It had taken the better part of an afternoon to subdue them and clear the airport that they'd threatened.
He checked himself over carefully. The creatures' sharp claws had made short work of his heavily armored costume. It was now hanging in tatters on his body. He suddenly noticed the 'adult' Argent and 'de-aged' Starfire's pointed stares and felt himself blush.
Sighing, he waved the other Titans to assemble around him. "Okay, Detective Quinn said that the Wildebeests were reportedly sighted in New York. Let's go," he said tiredly. He was hunched over, his hands on his thighs, feeling strangely light-headed. When the others didn't respond immediately, he looked up.
The Titans were all staring at him curiously. His eyes narrowing, he straightened.
"What?" he asked sharply.
"No offense, Bat-boy," Arsenal said shrugging, "but don't you think you should take care of *that* instead?" He pointed casually at Nightwing's shoulder.
The former Boy Wonder looked where the crimson archer pointed and raised an eyebrow in surprise. An ugly, jagged gash from his shoulder to midway down his chest was bleeding profusely. Funny, he hadn't noticed it until this instant. Now, the strange annoying throb that he'd put aside from his consciousness came back in full force.
His body awakened to the searing, white-hot pain radiating from his shoulder. Grimacing at the unbidden pain, Nightwing managed a valiant denial. "It's just a scratch."
The now adult Damage stepped forward. "Nightwing, I have to agree with Arsenal. I think it best that you retire from the fight and have that wound taken care of. *We'll* handle the Wildebeests." He turned to the others. "Right, Titans?" The others looked at Damage with varying degrees of open-mouthed surprise.
Arsenal let out a short laugh. "That's my boy!" He turned to Nightwing. "He's right, you know. No sense getting yourself killed. Go back to Star Labs and let 'em have a look at that. We'll check with you later. See ya!" As he spoke, Arsenal and the others without flight were swept up in Argent's power field and carried away.
Nightwing watched his friends and teammates disappear over the horizon. Shaking his head, he contacted Oracle.
"Need a pick-up at the following coordinates..."
****
Minutes later a familiar black shape hovered approximately three feet above the ground, immediately next to him. Quirking an eyebrow, he waited while the cockpit slid back revealing the pilot.
"Robin?" he asked surprised. "Since when do you have permission to fly the Batwing?" he asked. Not waiting for a response, he climbed on board and strapped into the co-pilot's seat.
"For a guy who's being rescued, you sure are picky about the pilot," came the surprising reply. That didn't sound like Robin's voice. Nightwing turned, instantly alert.
"Who *are* you?" he asked, coldly. "Where's Robin?"
"Hey! You *are* good!" the young voice replied, delightedly. "Alfred said you were, but I never paid much attention to him." He frowned slightly. "I guess I never paid much attention to anyone before."
The short trip to Gotham City took less than fifteen minutes. Soon they were caught in the Batwing's landing beam and started their automatic descent.
"Mom used to tell me that just 'cause I came from wealthy and prominent family in Gotham, that I shouldn't grow too big for my britches. Guess I should've listened."
Nightwing listened to the boy next to him, conflicting emotions stirring within him. This coupled with the loss of blood was combining to make him woozy and light-headed.
"Bruce--?" he asked, and then blacked out.
****
"He's coming to, sir." Alfred?
Dick's eyes fluttered opened. He was surrounded by antiseptic smells and beeping machines. The Batcave's infirmary, he knew. Alfred's worried countenance swam into view. Dick smiled weakly.
"Hi," he whispered. Alfred smiled back, his relief obvious.
"Master Bruce, he's awake, sir."
The menacing figure of the Dark Knight came into view. His cowled features stood over him, seemingly cold and distant. Blinking in confusion, Dick focused on his mentor and former guardian. There was something *not right* about him. Something *different*. As he concentrated, Dick suddenly realized that Batman was a good two to three inches shorter than normal.
"Hi, Tim," he said. Batman's grim features were instantly transformed by an ear- to-ear grin.
"See!? I *told* you we couldn't fool him!"
'Robin' stepped up, then. He, too, looked pleased, but in a much more subtle, reserved way. The 'Dynamic Duo' both removed their masks. In Batman's place, Dick recognized the features of the man that Timothy Drake was destined to grow up and become. Next to him, stood a tall, heavily muscled teenaged boy--much larger at his age than either Dick or Tim had ever been.
"Hi, Bruce," he whispered. "You're not quite yourself today."
The teenaged Bruce gave him a wry half-smile. "Thankfully, *you* are," he said. "Can you explain why you're not a toddler right now?"
"Because except for Flash, me and the other original Titans apparently have an immunity to this de-aging process. Star Labs is currently running an analysis on our blood. I think it goes back to a case we worked on over ten years ago--at a rock concert. We stopped some guys from making off with a youth serum, but in the process, Speedy, Wonder Girl, Aqualad, and myself all inhaled the chemicals of the serum."
He shrugged. "We were given a clean bill of health by the authorities, so I guess I just put it out of my mind."
Bruce shrugged and shook his head. "I don't remember the episode." He turned serious eyes on adopted son. "Dick, this de-aging process is beginning to catch up with my mental faculties. The longer I stay at this age, the more I'm forgetting. Pretty soon, I'm going to be a fourteen-year-old boy in both mind and body."
"Bruce, Star Labs is working on the cure. I *know* they'll find it before--!"
Bruce laid his hand on Dick's good arm. "Take it easy, Dick. I'm not really worried, just--"
"--Concerned!" Dick and Tim finished together.
"I guess I can be a bit pompous at times, can't I?" Bruce asked.
Dick smiled affectionately. "Who? You? Pompous...? Never!"
The Batcomputer started a steady beeping. Simultaneously, Oracle's icon filled several monitors. Barbara Gordon's beautiful face replaced it within seconds. "Ooh...*three* Boy Wonders! How lucky can *one* girl get?" she teased. The three Boy Wonders in question smiled back at her.
"Latest sighting of this Witch Boy came in approximately five minutes ago from Black Canary, or should I say, Crybaby Canary?" she said, rolling her eyes. "He's now de-aged the Justice Society as well. At this rate, the world's going to be knee deep in super-active teenaged hormones and zits!"
"Holy teenaged angst, Batman," 'Robin' quipped. "How will we *ever* get out of this one?"
"I guess that's *our* cue to go save the super-adults of this world from a fate worse than death!" 'Batman' added.
"Yeah!" Nightwing agreed dryly. "What can be worse than having to decide who to ask to the Superhero Junior Prom? Wonder Brat or Crybaby Canary?"
"Are you *kidding*?" Bruce asked. "Have you taken a look at Starfire lately? Man! What a babe!" He looked curiously at Dick. "Tell me again why you two broke up?"
The silence in the Batcave could be cut with a scalpel.
Tim placed his bat cowl firmly back on his head. With a deep voice resonating with authority, he began dragging the ersatz Boy Wonder along with him. "Come on, youngster!" he growled. "Before you end up hanging from one of the stalactites!"
"What?" Bruce asked confused. "What'd I say?"
Dick shook his head and rolled his eyes. Was he ever *that* goofy? At that moment, the adult 'son' and teenaged 'father' locked eyes. Bruce easily shook off Tim's firm grip and walked back to the gurney where Dick still lay.
They clasped hands.
"Dick, I don't know how much longer I'm going to be like this, but I *do* know one thing. Being a kid again has reminded me of how important it is to have family and people who love me. It's made appreciate me what I had and lost, but more importantly, it's made me appreciate what I have now." Gripping Dick's hand tighter, Bruce continued, his young voice breaking slightly from emotion.
"Dick, I don't know if I'm going to keep any of my adult memories. I know that I've been forgetting stuff all day long." Tears welled up in young Bruce Wayne's eyes. His throat caught. "But before I lose any more of them, I need you to know how much I love you, son. How much you've meant to me since you came into my life. I'm sorry that it's taken all this--" He waved distractedly at his 'Robin' costume. "--to get me to say it."
Dick held on tightly to his raging emotions. He felt his eyes stinging from tears he was struggling manfully to hold back.
"I know, Bruce," he choked out. "I've always known." Dick grinned lopsidedly. "Now get out there, 'Robin,' and kick some serious butt!"
Giving Dick his best teenaged daredevil grin, Bruce turned to Tim and shouted, "Let's go, Batman!"
"To the Batmobile, Robin!"
Long after the roaring echoes of the super turbo-charged engines of the Batmobile died out, Dick lay smiling quietly, staring up into the dark recesses of the Batcave's shadowy ceiling.
"I love you, too, Bruce."
The End ####