A Spot of Wax
By
AJ
Long after the candle had been snuffed out and put away, Alfred Pennyworth did his usual duty of cleaning the cave, making certain that the place was spotless. He noticed that though the table had been removed and the candle was gone, there was a spot of wax on the floor the size of a silver dollar.
'The must have fallen off the candle.'
Alfred returned to the cabinet where he kept his cleaning supplies and grabbed the solvent. He knelt down to get the spot when . . .
"Alfred, please leave it."
"Master Bruce?" Alfred said a bit startled. He had not heard the Master approach.
"The wax, please leave it."
"May I ask why, Sir?"
"As a reminder . . ."
"You are not noted for sentimentality."
"True . . . but we all need something to remind us what's important."
And so the spot of wax was left where it was, forgotten. Until a young vigilante came into the cave, feeling alone and heartsick, hoping to find . . . but he only found an empty hole. The place was still somewhat in shambles, even though he and Tim were working to restore it to its former glory. The place needed cleaning and its objects repaired and replaced. Then something caught his eye.
'Can it be?' The young vigilante knelt down and felt the spot. 'Hard wax.' Standing in place, he looked around, though the space around him had changed somewhat, the little spot had remained the same. He could not believe after all this time it was still here.
'I took my oath on this very spot.'
And with that knowledge, what he had done in the past year made him deeply ashamed. He had been tempted, tempted to a point that even he nearly threw all of that away. After fighting Two-Face and Ra's al Ghul he realized where it was that he belonged, but before he could resume, he needed to do one more thing.
Dick Grayson went into his old bedroom and opened the trunk at the foot of his bed. He pulled out a small wooden box and for a moment, held it in his hands reflecting on what his father meant to him.
'The Wayne family was all about service to others. I became a part of that family when Bruce took me in. I didn't quite fully understand it then, but I do now.'
Dick opened the box and nestled within the protective silk was a candle and its simple gold-tone holder. Nodding, he closed the lid and he carried the box down to the cave. Changing into his Nightwing gear, he climbed on his motorcycle and head out of the cave. He knew Alfred would have wanted to come with him, but he had to do this alone.
He remembered the spot; the very spot where a young boy his age witnessed something so horrible it would set his feet upon a path that would forever shape his life. He also thought of another boy, himself and the events that brought him here now.
'Because of what happened here, perhaps my path was forever linked with his.'
In his mind's eye he could see every detail as if it was happening in front of him at that very moment. On his right the boy kneeling and his parents shot. On his left the boy kneeling and his parents broken and bleeding from their fall. The vigilante stood between them as the blood from both sides mingled together. Nightwing kneeled down and opened the box and set the candle upright on its base then lit it. He stood there for a moment, letting the wax fall.
'You told me once that you needed to be dedicated 100%. Seeing that spot of wax on the floor got me thinking about the oath I made to you,' Nightwing thought. He didn't know if Bruce could hear him. 'The light from this candle just didn't help us to see the words better, it was a beacon for the wounded soul of a boy . . . two boys really. It helped me to see a path of selflessness and devotion. Devotion to the common good. This light must always shine no matter what. Those were life-altering moments for both of us. Both of us were helped by the kindness of strangers. I shall be forever in your debt, Bruce. I hope you can see what I do here tonight.'
Placing his hand over the candle as if he was placing it on a book, Nightwing recited, "I swear to protect the innocent, to fight crime and corruption, and to stay on the path of righteousness. And I will see that there is always hope in Gotham."
Bruce Wayne sat at the computer trying to make sense of all that had happened. He buried his face in his hands at the loss, the loss of his youngest by the hands of his brother, a clone created by Talia to not only destroy Batman, but Damian as well. How could he ever have feelings for that woman . . . that woman who deceived him countless times. Even so, Damian didn't die an Al Ghul, he died a Wayne and he could take some comfort in that. Damian was his to the end. Still, his heart ached just as it ached for Jason, for Barbara, for all those who fought with him, died for him, were wounded for him. And once again, he could feel the darkness encroaching on his soul. Robin was dead. Would there ever be a Robin again?
Bruce was aware of someone coming down the stairs, but they didn't approach the computer terminals. The person stood in the shadows on a single spot. Bruce could just make out that the figure held a small wooden box. Bruce thought he recognized the figure, but there was something different about him. He stood there rooted to that one spot, and with one hand pointed toward his mask and then gave an inviting gesture in his direction.
Bruce seemed to understand and he moved into the vault and put on his uniform then moved to where the figure stood.
'Nightwing?'
Without a word, the figure instructed Batman to stand just shy of where he was. The figure's eyes lowered to stare at the spot. Batman's eyes narrowed as he also saw what it was that marked the small area. The figure kneeled down and opened the box. Inside was a candle. The eyes behind Batman's cowl opened wide.
'He kept it all these years?'
The figure placed the candle and its base on the spot of wax that covered the floor. As if by a pre-arranged signal, the lights dimmed and a match was lit. The match was touched to the wick and the flame grew, giving off light as it did long ago. He was young then, not much older than the man who stood before him now.
Batman got a good look at the young man's costume. It had Nightwing's lines for mobility with a red stylized bat on the front. His leggings were a dark green, almost black and the belt that hugged his hips was a canary yellow. Across his back were two ascrima sticks. It was Nightwing and yet it was Robin as well, a new Robin, and adult Robin, grown fully fledged and ready.
Batman hadn't noticed that beside that spot of wax had been a small table. On that table was a book. Robin picked up the book. Batman took the book that Robin held out to him and Robin placed his right hand on top.
Robin recited the oath he made when he first came to this very cave then he added to that oath.
"I vow to always be there for my partner, to watch his back even in times where he may not need me. His safety is my concern just as it has always been. I swear in the name of Damian Wayne to be the best son that I can be for the best father a son can have. And Bruce . . . if you plan on dying again . . . take me with you."
Batman gave Robin a knowing nod. The candle was extinguished and both moved to the bat computer.
"Let's see what trouble we can get into today, shall we Robin?"
"You bet."
End
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A/N: Reference: Detective Comics #38 Origin of Robin, Nightwing Issues 152 Ra's al Ghul and 153 Last Rights
The middle part of the story, Dick believes Batman is dead after he disappears on a JLA mission, so Nightwing returns to Gotham as its protector, but he's not Batman. The rest I fancied that Dick would become Robin again after Damian's death, but a new Robin, an adult Robin where his costume would have both Nightwing and Robin elements. So, they would come full circle.