Standard disclaimer: These characters belong to DC Comics, I am borrowing
them without permission. I
am borrowing them for purely entertainment purposes and I am making no money from them…blah, blah, blah, yadda, yadda, yadda.
*Continuity note: This story doesn't take place at any particular time, but in this story Gordon is still the Commissioner of Gotham City.
HONOR THY FATHER
2/5/01
Dick stood listening to the sound of the rain drumming softly against the window of Bruce's office. Up here on the 40th floor of the WayneTech Headquaters Building, even the endless noise of the city was distant. Dick watched the drops of rain hit the glass, merge with other drops and form little rivulets that rushed downward, toward the street. He was mesmerized by this endless ballet, the movement of the rivulets against the glass. He had long ago lost track of the time he had spent just standing and staring at the rain. Eventually the sound of someone softly clearing their throat behind him, drew him back to his surroundings.
"Dick, I'm sorry to disturb you, but everyone is here now and I think the lawyers are ready to start reading the will."
"Yeah, I'll be right there," Dick said over his shoulder to Lucius Fox, the CEO of WayneTech Enterprises.
Turning to leave the office, Dick's eye was caught by a silver picture frame that sat on the large, mahogany desk. It housed a photograph taken many years ago at one of the many charity functions that Bruce Wayne held. It showed Bruce and Dick standing together smiling, they were wearing matching black tuxedos and looking slightly uncomfortable. Dick was perhaps twelve or thirteen years old. He couldn't remember exactly when or where the photo had been taken. He couldn't even remember having seen the photo before now.
Damn it, Bruce, he thought bitterly, how could you die on me? Why now? Why so soon? There was so much I never got the chance to say to you.
Blinking back the hot, angry tears that were forming at the corners of his eyes, Dick squared his shoulders, took a deep breath and started towards the executive boardroom down the hall. Let's get this over with, he thought grimly. Besides, Bruce would probably turn in his freshly dug grave if he knew that I had kept his top executives waiting.
As he stepped into the large, oval-shaped room that was dominated by a table of the same shape, a hush fell over the crowd gathered there and every eye turned towards the pale young man. Dark smudges under the eyes and cheekbones that looked a bit too hollow marred his normally flawless, handsome face. The harsh glare of TV camera lights and the sporadic flashes from still cameras only heightened this effect.
At a gesture from Lucius, Dick joined him at the head of the table. As he took his seat, the rest of the large, dark-suited entourage around the table followed him. He glanced around at the somber, expectant faces turned toward him, but said nothing.
Standing and laying a comforting hand on the younger man's shoulder, Lucius addressed the group. "It's been a very long and sad day, so I won't take up too much of your time. I just wanted to say to Dick, on behalf of all of us, that working for Bruce Wayne all these years was a joy. The man never ceased to surprise me. He had boundless energy, endless compassion, and an unfailing dedication to Gotham City. I don't think that people truly realized any of that about him. I can honestly say that when I heard that his private jet had gone down in the Swiss Alps, it was probably the darkest day of my life. He will be sorely missed."
Dick glanced up at the dark face of Bruce's right hand man in business. Lucius Fox was sort of Bruce's corporate version of Alfred, someone he completely trusted to handle things when "other" business took precedence.
"Thank you, Lucius," Dick whispered and gave the man a wan smile.
"Well, I guess we can get down to the business that we all came here for. I'll turn things over to Daniel Gavin, of Gavin, Gavin and Kraus, and the head of WayneTech's legal council."
Lucius took his seat and another man, seated to the left of Dick, stood and cleared his throat. He was a stocky man in his late fifties with a thick shock of snow-white hair that contrasted dramatically with his perpetually red-flushed face. The man adjusted the half-frame glasses that were perched on the end of his nose and held up a small stack of papers.
"This is the last will and testament of Bruce Thomas Wayne. I myself drew up the document so I can assure you all of its authenticity and legality. I'm not going to read the entire document as it is fairly long and detailed as you can all imagine considering the vast sums of wealth that was at Mr. Wayne's disposal.
"The major dispensations are as follows; 'to Alfred Pennyworth, who has worked in the employ of my family as butler for nearly a half century, I leave an annual salary of one million dollars that is to continue for the rest of his natural life.'"
The reading was interrupted by a great deal of hushed whispers, shock registering at such a generous bequeathment to a simple domestic servant. Gavin waited a moment for the whispers to die down before continuing.
"Mr. Wayne also set up a million dollar annual allowance for the Leslie Thompkins Medical Clinic, located in the area commonly referred to as Crime Alley, as well as something he refers to as the Clocktower Fund. There are several other charities listed with much smaller donations that I won't take the time to name."
Gavin paused for a moment, shuffling through his papers, ostensibly trying to find his place. He's enjoying the limelight far too much, Dick thought sourly. Just get on with it. Give them what they all came here for and let us go home.
As though reading Dick's thoughts the stocky attorney cleared his throat, adjusted his glasses again and continued with his reading. "Now, getting down to the heart of the matter, as most everyone here knows Mr. Wayne was a devout bachelor and unfortunately died without leaving an heir of his own body…"
Gavin paused again to read directly from the document.
"'The remainder of my wealth, the control of the company that my family built and all of its subsidiaries, the house that has been in my family for generations, the grounds on which it stands, as well as everything contained therein, I leave to my former legal ward and foster son, Richard John Grayson.'"
Dick took a deep breath and bowed his head ignoring the camera flashes going off and the burst of questions directed at him from the various media members. Of course he had known that Bruce was leaving everything to him, but somehow it seemed so different hearing it read officially here in this boardroom in front of all the media. It's really true. Bruce really is dead. He isn't coming back this time. I really am Batman now.
It suddenly felt as if the walls were closing in on him. He was having trouble getting enough oxygen into his lungs. Dick stood shakily to deliver his already prepared statement, but as he looked up at all the faces leaning in towards him demanding his attention, the room began to spin. He turned to Lucius to ask for some water, but his vision abruptly narrowed, then blackness closed around him.
The feel of something cool and wet against his forehead, pulled Dick back from the darkness. He opened his eyes slowly to look into the warm brown eyes of Leslie Thompkins. She smiled.
"Welcome back," she said gently. "How do you feel?"
"Like my head's about to explode."
"When's the last time you ate?"
"You mean, like, food?" He tried very hard, but just couldn't seem to remember when the last time solid food had passed his lips.
"Yes, food, you know, that solid stuff that you actually have to chew. Those vile protein concoctions that you and Bruce drink don't count."
Realizing what she had just said, Leslie looked away flustered. Dick sat up gingerly and put a hand on her shoulder.
"It's going to be okay. We'll get through this," he whispered. He handed the wet washcloth that she had laid on his forehead back to her. "So, how much of an ass did I make of myself?"
"You did not make an ass of yourself, Dick. I think everyone in that room understood."
Dick nodded absently and rubbed his temples, trying to clear his throbbing head. He had been lying on the long, black leather upholstered couch in Bruce's office. The lights were dim and when the door to the office abruptly opened the sudden addition of light and noise from the outside lobby, sent pain knifing into Dick's skull. With a groan, he buried his head in his hands.
"How are you, young sir?" Alfred asked gently, entering the room and closing the door behind him. There was a brief buzz of activity when the door opened as reporters camped in the lobby tried vainly to get a peek inside at Gotham City's newest Most Eligible Bachelor.
"I'll live."
Leslie smiled warmly at Alfred and said, "He'll be alright. He just needs a decent meal and a good night's sleep."
Dick shook his head. "No time," he said. "Alfred, I need you to call everyone together tonight, including Helena. There's a lot we need to discuss."
"Dick, surely this can wait until tomorrow. You just collapsed, that's your body's way of telling you that you need to slow down and take care of yourself."
"I didn't collapse, Leslie, I just passed out. If it will make you feel better, I'll sleep in the car on the way back to the manor. And I'm sure Alfred can whip something up for me to eat when we get there."
"Oh, yes, I have plenty of experience with 'whipping' things up," Alfred said dryly.
Dick smiled at him sheepishly. "Thank you," he said. "Can you make those phone calls from the car phone while I talk to Lucius for a few minutes? I'll meet you at the car."
"Yes sir, I'll take care of everything."
Standing, Dick straightened his tie and allowed Alfred to help him back into his suit coat. He squeezed the older man's shoulder.
"I'll see you in a few minutes, and thank you, Leslie," he said as he turned and left the office.
Sighing heavily, Leslie accepted the hand Alfred offered to help her up from her kneeling position on the floor. Once back on her feet, she smoothed out her long, dark skirt and rubbed her aching back.
"Well, it looks like it's starting already," she said. "I had hoped that Dick wouldn't feel the need to be quite as driven as Bruce was, but …"
"As you said earlier, he'll be alright," Alfred said optimistically, "he just needs some time to settle into the new role."
"I desperately hope you're right."
Dick sat staring impassively at the expectant faces of his new team. Robin, Batgirl and Azreal were all in costume, awaiting his instructions. Behind him, on the large computer screen, Oracle's computer-generated image gazed out impassively. Dick was the only one not in costume. He was dressed simply in a close-fitting, one-piece, black tracksuit.
"Uh, what, exactly are we waiting for?" Robin asked finally, unable to stand the silence any longer.
"We're waiting for the last member of the team to arrive," Dick answered. "I want everyone here for this."
The other three exchanged puzzled looks. Robin glanced up momentarily at the big screen, not that he really expected any hints from the computerized image. Heaving a sigh, he settled in for the wait, which turned out to be much shorter than expected.
Everyone turned toward the outside entrance to the Batcave as Bruce's black Bentley pulled into the cave. Alfred stepped out from the driver's side and walked around to the back passenger side and opened the door. Extending his hand, he helped the Huntress to step from the vehicle. She looked around in amazement.
"So, this must be the famous Batcave," she said.
"Yes," Dick said, standing and moving towards her. "Welcome…my name is Dick Grayson."
He extended his hand to her. Returning his firm handshake, she smiled and nodded.
"Well then, if you're Dick Grayson…then Batman is…was, Bruce Wayne."
"Yes."
"I see. So, are you Batman now?"
"That's what we're here to discuss. Huntress, I don't think you've been formally introduced…this is Azreal." Dick indicated the tall, blond man in the armor and red cape.
The man removed his hood and mask and extended his hand. "Jean-Paul Vallee," he said.
Huntress paused for only a second. Oh, what the hell, it's not like I've got anything left to hide, she thought, removing her own mask.
"Helena Bertinelli," she said, shaking the man's hand.
"This is Batgirl," Dick continued the introductions.
The girl pulled back her full hood to reveal shoulder-length black hair and delicate Oriental features. "Call me Cassandra," she said haltingly.
Helena nodded to the girl and they moved to the last member of the team.
"And you know Robin."
When the boy remained conspicuously silent, Helena raised an eyebrow expectantly. The dark-haired boy shifted a bit uncomfortably.
"Sorry, it's just Robin," he said, sheepishly.
"Don't take it personally," Dick said smiling, "even the Oracle doesn't know his real name."
"Well, aren't we the mystery man," Helena said.
The boy glanced down at his feet, a slight blush coloring his cheeks below his mask.
Clearing his throat, Dick drew everyone's attention to himself and turned to address the image on the computer screen.
"Now that we're all here. Oracle, why don't you take over," he said.
The flat, computer-modulated voice, carefully pitched to a non-gender- specific tone, echoed eerily in the vast cave.
"After the incident with Bane, Batman came to realize that he needed a final contingency plan, a last will and testament, if you please. He recorded it onto CD-rom and left it in my keeping. He asked me to play it for all of you, in the event that something should happen to him. As we all know, that event has happened. Batman, Bruce Wayne, is dead. This is the recording he left behind…"
There was a moment of silence as the computer screen went blank then an image of Batman came up. He was seated in a chair and dressed in costume, his cowl pushed back, his hair tousled. He looked tired. From the details apparent in the background, the recording had been made recently, since the cave had been rebuilt.
"Since the Oracle is playing this for you, I can only assume that something dire has happened. I am dead, comatose, or missing. If I have died as Batman, I must assume that you have managed to protect my secret identity, otherwise why bother to watch this?" He gave a short humorless laugh, but sobered immediately.
"If this is the case, Alfred and Oracle already have a detailed plan to plant a diversionary trail to trick everyone into believing that Bruce Wayne is still alive. They will run through this plan for approximately one year, after which I will have an unfortunate accident and will be declared legally dead.
"This plan, of course, is based on the assumption that someone will have assumed the role of Batman in my place. Even if Batman's 'death' was spectacularly public, if another one appears days later, it will only help our cause, reinforcing the thought that Batman cannot be killed, in the minds of the criminal element. And if that death was not public, hopefully no will even notice the difference.
"Dick, I ask you to take up the mantle in my place. I know that I am asking a lot from you. I am asking you to give up the life that you have made for yourself in Bludhaven. But I only ask for one year. I don't want anyone to connect the death or disappearance of Batman with the death or disappearance of Bruce Wayne. If a year separates these occurrences, it will be much less suspicious.
"Of course, if I have died as Bruce Wayne, it makes things much easier. I will, of course, leave everything to you and all you have to do is take over as Batman, again, for one year only, if that is your wish.
"Robin, Azreal, if Dick is unable or unwilling to take up the mantle, I ask that you respect my choice. If Dick does not become Batman, than no one does and to hell with the consequences. I also ask that you follow him just as you would me, this includes you too, Batgirl, Oracle. Dick is Batman now."
Bruce paused for a moment and looked down. It seemed as if there was more he wanted to say, but didn't know how to start. He looked up again and opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. He sighed and made a gesture of resignation.
"Uh, that's enough for now, Oracle, but I…I may have more later."
The screen became black and seconds later returned to image of the Oracle. Dick turned back to face his team.
"Well, you've all seen it, any objections?" he asked.
No one spoke for a long moment. Then Huntress cleared her throat softly.
"I, uh, couldn't help but notice that Batm-Bruce didn't mention me in his little roster run down."
"Yes, well, I'm making my first executive decision. The team is short one body, I need to fill the void. Do you want the job or not?"
The two stared at each other for a long moment then Huntress shrugged one shoulder.
"Sure, what the hell, it's not like I've got anything better to do."
"And you understand that I'm in charge?"
"Yes, Sir," she said, giving him a mock salute.
"Good, come by the cave tomorrow night. I'll get you caught up with the rest of the team in terms of equipment, communication protocols, etc… This meeting is over. It's late, the rest of you can go out if you like, but I'm going to bed. It's been a long day. Good night."
Dick sank down in the chair behind him and swiveled it around to face the computer. Once the others had drifted out of the cave and only Dick remained, the Oracle image disappeared from the screen to be replaced by Barbara Gordon's lovely features.
"Are you sure bringing Huntress into the team was a good idea?" she asked.
"What I said earlier is true, we're down a body, she can fill the gap. Besides, if she's on the team, I can keep a closer eye on her."
"Oh, I get it, the old 'keep your friends close, but keep your enemies closer' routine?"
"Helena hardly qualifies as an enemy."
"Right, I guess you just forgot about that Huntress/Pettit team up during the NML. You know, the one that almost got both of us killed?"
"Don't go there, Barbara."
Barbara was momentarily taken aback. There was a definite cold edge to Dick's voice and it had been many years since he had addressed her as anything but "Babs".
"Dick, are you alright?" she asked gently.
He sighed heavily. "I'm fine," he said wearily.
"You look exhausted. Why don't you go get so-."
"Some sleep? Don't worry, that's where I'm headed, Mother," he snapped angrily.
"Dick, I…" she started, clearly hurt by his words.
"No, Babs, I'm sorry, I had no right to snap at you like that. It's just that I'm getting really sick of people asking me if I'm all right… I worked so hard to build myself a new life, one separate from Bruce. I have friends, I have a job I truly enjoy and I think I was actually starting to make a difference in Bludhaven. But because of a stupid mechanical failure on an airplane, I lose not only my closest friend, my…father, but I lose my life as well."
As he spoke Dick's voice rose in volume and he became increasingly agitated.
"And the worst part is, I could handle it, in fact, I would be happy to give up everything for him if he could have just given me…something back. Anything, a 'thank you', or a 'good job, son', anything, but I got nothing. You saw the recording. There was nothing, just his usual 'be a good soldier and do as you're told' routine. And I can't argue with him, I can't even tell myself that maybe he'll give me something more later, because he's dead!"
Dick was standing now, his fists clenched and his body shaking visibly. With a deep breath, he leaned over the computer console and bowed his head.
"He's dead," he repeated, his voice barely above a whisper. It was obvious that he was fighting to maintain control and not break down.
"Dick, it's okay," Barbara said softly, wishing desperately that she were there in person so that she could provide him with physical comfort as well as kind words. "It's okay to feel angry, none of this is fair. And you don't have to act strong in front of me. You can let it go, it won't change my opinion of you."
Much calmer now, Dick looked up and gave her a weak smile.
"Thank you for listening to my rantings, but I can't let go. I don't have the time for that luxury. There's too much to do. But right now, I'm tired. I'm going to bed. Good night, Babs."
Barbara left the connection open, watching as he wearily stood and climbed the long stairway up to the manor. Only when she was sure that he had indeed done as he said he would and hadn't changed his mind and come back down, did she terminate the transmission.
Batman stood atop the four-story Gotham First National Bank building and surveyed the skyline. So far it had been a quiet night, no major crimes, just a couple of muggings and a break-in attempt. Robin was scheduled to meet him there in fifteen minutes. Batman would have a plan of action ready by the time the youth joined him.
Dick reached up and pinched the bridge of his nose and grimaced slightly, his eyes closed. Despite the aspirins he'd taken earlier, the headache was returning. They were fast becoming a regular part of his life. Between spending most of his days at WayneTech and his nights on the streets, finding time to sleep was difficult. And unfortunately, even when he did manage to find a few hours for a quick nap, sleep didn't seem to come easily. He often found himself just lying in bed, staring at the ceiling, his mind too busy to allow rest.
Dick knew that Bruce often took advantage of his playboy persona to "play hooky" from work to get some extra sleep or recover from injuries when he needed to, but for some reason Dick just couldn't bring himself to adopt the same strategy. He desperately wanted to be perceived as a responsible young man, as someone who could handle the job. Perhaps it was because he was not Bruce's son biologically that made him try so hard. He did not bear the Wayne name and therefore felt that he had to prove himself to Bruce's executives.
Even as preoccupied as he was, Batman was instantly aware of a slight flapping sound and a hint of movement behind him. His body tensing, he slipped a hand down to his belt and pulled out a batarang. He calmly turned to face whoever was sneaking up on him, ready for anything. Seeing a tall, very muscular silhouette floating slowly towards him and a momentary flash of a red cape, Batman replaced the batarang but did not lose the tension in his body. What is Superman doing here, he thought. Checking up on me?
As his feet touched the rooftop, Superman strolled forward calmly, easily. But his sharp, alien eyes quickly detected the tense, defensive lines in the body of the younger man before him. Odd, he thought, I would have expected this reaction from Bruce, but Dick and I have always gotten along. I always considered us to be on friendly terms.
"Superman," the dark caped man said, evenly.
Well, he certainly has the Voice down, Superman thought. He could detect that the younger man's voice was a shade or two higher pitched than his mentor's had been, but he doubted that anyone with less sensitive hearing would notice the difference.
"Batman, I just dropped in to see how everything was going. I assume that things are …running smoothly?"
"As can be expected."
Superman nodded. "Actually, I just came from the Watchtower. It's just not the same up there without a dark, brooding presence lurking in the shadows."
He had intended the comment as a joke, to ease the tension from the conversation. But when he got no reaction, he cleared his throat uncomfortably.
"What I'm trying to ask, is if you would like to … resume your place in the Justice League. We've all discussed it and you are more than welcome to join us."
There was a long pause as the dark caped young man considered this offer.
"I thank you for the invitation," he said, finally, "but I'm afraid I must decline."
"But we-."
"I'm sorry," the younger man interrupted. "But I-I'm just not ready."
The older man seemed about to protest further, but stopped and instead asked, "Are you alright?"
There was a slight pause. "I'm fine, I just need some time to adjust." The voice was tight.
"Yes, well, please let me know if you change your mind."
Turning, the brightly clad figure took a few steps away, then simply leaped into the air and silently disappeared into the night. As Dick watched the retreating figure, he became aware of another presence on the rooftop and turned to see Robin emerge from where he had been crouched behind a roof vent.
"Wow, what did he want?" the youth asked as he approached.
"He came to invite me to join the JLA."
"Really? Cool."
"I told him no."
"Oh."
"Robin, I can barely keep up with what's going on in Gotham City. I'm certainly not ready to try to tackle a world crisis."
"Yeah, I suppose you're right. So, what's the game plan for tonight?"
"Well, things seem to be pretty quiet around here. I say we head to the upper west side, see if thing's are a little more lively at that end of town."
The youth gestured for Batman to lead. "I'll be right behind you."
Alighting on the roof of the nearest tall building, the two crime- fighters walked to the edge and scanned the streets below them. Things seemed to be pretty quiet at this end of town as well. Dick was almost beginning to think that perhaps he was going to get a decent night's sleep for once.
"Aw, man," Robin whined, "the first night in weeks that I finally manage to sneak away from school and into town and nothings happening. Nothing, not even a mugging."
"You do realize that these are good things, don't you?" Dick asked dryly.
"Well, yeah, but I wanted some action."
As if on cue, they heard a woman's scream coming from very close by.
"Yes!" Robin hissed, pumping a fist.
"You know, you worry me sometimes," Dick said, already playing out his jumpline and preparing to swing into action.
In perfect synchronization, the two young men swung off the building and out over the street towards the alley where the scream had come from. They dropped silently behind a small knot of five men who had cornered a young woman and were advancing on her menacingly.
"Excuse us, gentlemen, but could we have a word with you a moment?" Robin asked glibly.
The men turned around and a couple of them paled visibly.
"Aw, man, it's The Bat," one man mumbled.
"Chill, Rico," a muscular blond said confidently, "it's five against two, or should I say one and a half. I'd say the odds are in our favor."
"You've never fought The Bat and his Brat before, have you?"
Ignoring Rico, Blondie strolled forward confidently, cracking his knuckles.
"Okay, who wants to go first?"
Turning to Robin, Batman said, "Get the girl to safety."
Turning back, he gestured the blond man forward.
With a flash of yellowed teeth, Blondie pulled a switchblade from the top of his boot and dropped to a crouch. Batman stood impassive and unmoving, his cape settled over him, completely cloaking his body. He didn't even shift his body as the knife-wielding man began to slowly circle him.
Meanwhile, Robin was cautiously approaching the girl where she had curled up in a frightened ball against the wall at the back of the alley. Tearing his eyes away from the impending fight between his blond friend and the vigilante, the man nearest the girl stepped up to challenge Robin.
"Uhn-uh, Little Birdie, that's our prize. You go get your own."
The man was taller than the youth by several inches, but he had a lean, wiry build. His weapon of choice also was a switchblade. With his much shorter reach, Robin was at a disadvantage, until he extended his retractable bo staff. At the sight of it, the older man's look of confidence wavered slightly.
"So, the Little Birdie has teeth after all," he sneered.
Without a word, Robin swung one end of his staff across the man's face. With the other end he swept the man's feet out from under him. With a final blow to the head, Thug #3 was down for the count. Robin looked up just in time to see Thug #4 rushing him.
With Batman's attention focused on Blondie and Robin busy with his man, the smallish man addressed earlier as Rico, began cautiously making his way over to the girl. As he moved, he slipped out his own blade, a large scuba knife, with a serrated edge on one side and a smooth edge on the other.
On his second circuit around the still motionless Batman, Blondie made his move, leaping at the vigilante from behind. With barely a telltale ripple of cape, the masked man spun around, the heel of his boot connecting with Blondie's jaw with a solid crack. Blondie collapsed to the pavement in an unmoving heap.
Batman glanced up at the fifth thug and smiled. With a look of sheer panic, the man screamed and literally flung himself at the dark-cowled crimefighter. A simple fist to the jaw brought the man down. Batman looked over in time to see Robin finish off his second opponent with a jab to the gut with his staff and a fist across the jaw. Both men turned to see Rico standing behind the girl. He was holding her head by the hair, his knife against her throat.
"Don't come any closer or I swear I'll cut her," the man warned.
Batman took a deliberate step forward.
"Don't be stupid, Rico," he said quietly. "You so much as bruise that girl and you can forget about ever sleeping again, because I'll be on your ass so hard I'll be in your dreams. You'll see my shadow every time you close your eyes. Now, let the girl go."
The look in the man's eyes was verging on hysterical and for a moment, Robin worried that he actually might carry out his threat. With a sudden burst of energy, Rico flung the girl toward Batman and bolted around him as he lunged forward to catch her.
"Robin, take her!" Batman barked sharply as he thrust the now limp girl into the younger man's arms and started after the fleeing thug.
Emerging from the alley, Batman just caught sight of Rico disappearing down a side street half a block away. Pumping his legs as hard as he could, Batman ate up the distance between himself and the other man. Reaching out, he grabbed onto one of Rico's arms and spun him around. Using his forward momentum, he delivered a devastating punch to the man's midsection. Rico doubled over with a loud groan. He groaned again as a kneecap connected with his chin. Pulling him up by the hair, Batman cocked a fist back for another blow, when a voice penetrated the fury-induced haze in his brain.
"That's enough, he's done!"
Abruptly, the anger drained from his limbs. Glancing back, he saw the slightly shocked look on Robin's face. Batman thrust Rico's swaying body towards the boy who caught him before he could hit the ground.
"Call GCPD," Batman said quietly as he drifted off into the shadows.
The dark, shadowy figure stood atop a nearby building, watching as the cops took away the now-conscious thugs and an ambulance took away the traumatized, but relatively unharmed girl. Not knowing why he did what he did, Dick slunk back further into the shadows as Commissioner Gordon's eyes drifted up and scanned past the place where he was standing. He was reluctant to have to face the man, but he knew that he would have to sooner or later. The slight scrape of a boot alerted him to Robin's arrival.
"I'm sorry I left you to deal with the cops alone," Dick said without turning around.
"It's okay," Tim said. "Gordon asked about you."
"What did you tell him?"
"That you were in a bad mood."
Dick had to give a short laugh at that. "That's true enough, I guess."
"Are you alright?"
"I'm fine… It's getting late, do you want a ride back to school?"
"Sure, thanks."
The ride back to Brentwood Academy, on the outskirts of the city, was long and quiet. As they were approaching the school grounds, Tim couldn't keep silent any longer.
"Do you want to talk about it?"
"About what?"
"Bruce?"
"There's nothing to talk about, Tim. He's dead."
"Then why are you acting so weird?"
"How am I acting weird?"
"You're acting all moody and morose…you're acting like him. Just because you take over his role, doesn't mean you have to take over his personality."
The silence was excruciating.
"Dick, say something."
"What do you want to hear?"
"That you're okay. That nothing is going to change with us."
Dick slowed the batmobile to a stop. They were within sight of the school grounds. He couldn't go any further without running the risk of attracting attention. He turned to face Tim.
"I am fine, Tim. I'm just tired. And everything is going to be all right. Go on, you'd better get back to your room before someone notices you're gone."
"Okay," Tim said, managing a weak smile. "See ya, later."
Leslie finished wrapping the bandages around Dick's ribs and stepped back to busy herself with tidying the implements of her trade. She turned back to her patient as he gingerly stretched his arms overhead, testing his range of motion.
"Easy, you'll rip the stitches open. I don't suppose it'll do any good to tell you to take it easy for a while?"
Dick just glared at her.
"No, I didn't think so. Here, at least take these painkillers. They'll help you sleep through the night. Alfred tells me that you haven't been sleeping very well."
"Alfred should mind his own business."
"Dick, he's concerned about you and, frankly, so am I. You aren't taking care of yourself. You're taking unnecessary risks. I'd almost say that you're deliberately trying to kill yourself… Are you?"
"What?"
"Trying to kill yourself?"
"Why would I do that?"
"To get back at Bruce."
"How can I get back at Bruce? He's dead."
"I know that, do you?"
"What? Of course I know that he's dead. If he wasn't, I wouldn't be wearing that damn cape and cowl."
"Then why won't you let him go? Why do you keep trying to punish him if you know that he's dead?"
"I don't know what you're talking about," Dick said, standing a bit unsteadily and starting to put his uniform shirt back on. There was a bloody rent in the black fabric where a gangbanger had gotten a lucky knife slash on him. Dick had to admit that these "lucky shots" were becoming more and more frequent of late.
"You are so angry at Bruce for dying that you can't let him go," Leslie said. "And if you don't let him go and get on with your life, you're going to get yourself killed."
"Get on with my life? How can I get on with my life? It's back in Bludhaven. I had to leave it behind, along with my career, because Bruce…" He couldn't continue, not without losing control completely and he wasn't going to do that. "I have to get back to the cave, I'm sure Robin and Oracle will be calling in to check on me."
"Dick, please take the painkillers. Please, at least try to get some sleep. For me," Leslie begged.
He nodded reluctantly and accepted the brown plastic bottle half full of white caplets. He had no intention of taking them, but he would humor her. He slipped the bottle into one of the pouches of his utility belt. As he went to reach for his cape, pain shot through his side and he hissed loudly, trying to stifle a groan.
"Here, let me," Leslie said, helping to settle the heavy cape over his shoulders. "You know, it's okay to ask for help once in a while. No one would think you were weak."
She reached a hand up to lightly trace one bruised cheekbone. "Please, be careful," she whispered.
The batmobile pulled into the Batcave and came to a screeching halt. Almost before the vehicle was completely stopped, the passenger door flung open and Robin jumped out to stalk angrily towards the huge computer console. The driver's side door opened and a much more calm Batman exited the vehicle.
Tearing the mask from his face and flinging it across the room, Robin whirled around to face his partner, fury marring his handsome, youthful features.
"What the hell were you doing?! What were you trying to prove? Were you trying to get yourself and all those men killed?" the boy yelled.
"I was trying to stop a group of terrorists from blowing up the Gotham City Stock Exchange," the answer was delivered in a calm and dispassionate voice.
"How? By blowing them and yourself up?"
"I diffused the bomb. No one was hurt. I'm here, they're in police custody and I don't think they'll be too anxious to try something like that in Gotham City again. So, what exactly is your problem?"
"You waited until the last possible second before you finally diffused the bomb. You didn't need to do that. You already had the terrorists in custody. You didn't need to play mind games with them. That was just pointlessly cruel."
"No, there was a definite point. They're terrorists, Tim, they thrive on creating fear and panic. I turned the tables on them and gave them a taste of their own terror. As I said, others may think twice before they pick Gotham City as a target if they know that we aren't the frightened sheep they think we are. I fought fire with fire, it's what Bruce would have done and you know it."
Much calmer now, Tim had to admit that Dick was right. It was what Bruce would have done, but maybe that was what was really bothering him.
"But Dick, you're not Bruce. You used to rail at him for doing things like that just as I'm yelling at you now. You're doing things that are against your nature to do."
"Maybe you don't really know my nature," Dick said, slipping the cowl back and running a hand through his black hair.
"Right now, I think I know it better than you do. Look, I know that you're still hurting from losing Bruce, we all hurt too, but you're not dealing with the pain. You just keep swallowing it and burying it further down inside. But you can't keep burying it, you've got to let it out and deal with it. And trying to become Bruce isn't going to help. It's tearing you apart, because you aren't Bruce. You've got to let him go."
"Like you did?" Dick asked quietly. "You certainly seemed to have gotten over his death quickly."
"That's not fair. I do hurt. I miss him too, but he wasn't my father. He was my mentor, a much respected and, yes, loved mentor, but still just a mentor. But you…Dick, you are the brother I never had," the boy had to pause to try to compose himself before he could continue.
"My partnering with Bruce was never really about him, it was about you. The most treasured memories I have of my short crime-fighting career are ones that involve you, not Bruce. Losing him hurts, but I can deal with it. But…I can't lose you. And I can't help feeling like I am losing you. You're becoming more and more reckless and aggressive and I can't help feeling like you're going to self-destruct. And…I don't think I'll be able to deal with that."
Dick was silent for a long time, staring down at the computer console that he was leaning against. When he finally did speak, his voice was a monotone whisper.
"If you feel so strongly that I'm out of control, maybe it would be best if we dissolved this partnership… I think, maybe you should leave."
"What? Dick, no, don't do this. Please don't fire me."
The eyes that looked up at Tim were not the eyes that he was used to seeing. They were not the bright, mischievous blue eyes of Dick Grayson, but the pained, haunted eyes of an old man.
"Get out," he whispered.
Tim just stood staring, unable to move.
"Get out!" Dick yelled.
The boy turned and fled from the cave, pausing only long enough to scoop up his mask from the floor where he had thrown it.
Dick didn't know how long he had been sitting, just staring into space, his mind and body numb. The soft beep from the computer, alerting him of an incoming transmission from Oracle, brought him back to reality. He glanced up as Barbara's face appeared on the large screen before him. She didn't look happy.
"I just spoke with Robin," she said, without preamble. "You fired him? After everything you two have been through, you fired him. I already knew about the stunt you pulled at the stock exchange. Have you completely lost your mind?"
"I did what I thought was best for Robin. I don't want him to be in a situation that he isn't comfortable with. I knew that he would never terminate the partnership himself because he feels a loyalty to me, so I ended it for him."
"You had no right to make that decision for him. He was expressing concern for you. We're all starting to get very concerned about you."
"I'm fine."
"So you keep saying, and yet, everyday you become less and less like yourself and more and more like Batman, not Bruce, Batman. It's like your entire persona is being taken over by that cape and cowl. You're worse than he ever was. My God, Dick, even Huntress was shocked by your aggressiveness… I think maybe you need to step back for a while. Let the others handle things. You need a break. You need sleep."
"Are you through?"
"Wha-? …Yeah, I guess."
"Good night, Oracle."
Dick stood and walked to the back of the computer console where all the connecting cables were located. Without another word he grasped the thick bundle of patchcords and modem wires and yanked them from the computer. All the various screens and machines went black and an eerie, but satisfying silence filled the cave. Of course Dick would need most of these machines up and running again very soon. He would have to sit down and sort through all those cables to figure out which ones went to which machines so that he could have access to his computers while keeping Oracle out, but for now, the silence was liberating.
Alfred paced the length of the large kitchen fretfully. He had seen the small red sensor light, located just to the right of the estate's security system come on, indicating the return of the batmobile. Normally this would have brought feelings of relief, knowing that his young master had returned from his night of fighting crime, but these days the feelings that light invoked were much more mixed. These days Alfred Pennyworth seemed to be in a constant state of anxiety. He worried far more than he used to while his master was away and that worry never seemed to fully abate even after the young man had safely returned. And the worry seemed to be increasing nightly.
"Alfred, please calm down. I don't want to have to start worrying about your health too."
Alfred turned to face the warm smile and beautifully kind face of Leslie Thompkins, the woman he had loved since the day he had met her. On any other night he would find gazing into her endless, dark eyes a delight, but tonight he had to quickly look away. He knew that what they were about to do was necessary, but it still felt very wrong.
On the counter in front of Leslie sat an oriental, black lacquer, serving tray and a simple, white ceramic teapot and teacup. Every night Alfred brought tea to his young master upon his return. The tea was an herbal mixture that was supposed to promote relaxation and induce sleep. So far the effects of the tea on Dick had been negligible. So tonight Leslie had decided to up the ante by liberally lacing the tea with Valium.
"Alfred, it's for the best. You know that," Leslie said, sensing his train of thought.
"Yes, I do know that, but how did it come to this? How did we let things get so far out of hand?"
"We didn't. We can't grieve for him. He has to work through this himself. All we can do is stand by and try to keep him from killing himself or someone else in the process."
"And drugging him is an acceptable means to that end?"
"Yes," she answered firmly. "I think his lack of sleep is affecting his perceptions and his judgment. There are stages that everyone goes through in the grieving process. One of those stages is anger. I think Dick is stuck in the anger stage. Hopefully if he can get some sleep, it will offer him a new perception and he can finally move forward."
"I don't think it will. I think that what's making him angry will still be there when he wakes up."
"You mean that Bruce is dead? He has to accept that some time."
"Oh, I think he has accepted that. The fact that Master Bruce could die was always a possibility, from the time that Master Dick first met him. I think that is something that he has always accepted. I think what Master Dick is unable to accept is the timing of Master Bruce's death."
"What do you mean?"
"As you well know, Master Dick and Master Bruce always had a very rocky relationship. But the past few years they had been able to work things out and, I think, they were much closer than they had been for many years. But for all of that, Master Bruce never did truly acknowledge Master Dick as his equal. He never acknowledged Master Dick's skills, as a fighter or as a detective. And most importantly, he never truly acknowledged Master Dick as his son. Oh, he made the odd praising comment now and again, to be sure, but there was never the straightforward declaration that Master Dick so desperately craved. And now that he's dead, none of that can ever happen."
"My God, Alfred, you may truly be on to something. And if that is the case, I don't know how we can help him. I mean, I know that Bruce loved him. I know that he thought of Dick as his son, but I never once actually heard him say it."
"No, nor me either," Alfred said sadly.
The two sat in silence for a moment. The sound of Dick entering the kitchen drew their attention. They glanced at each other fleetingly, each drawing resolve from the other.
"Ah, Master Dick," Alfred said quickly. "I'm terribly sorry, I have been remiss in my duties. I haven't had a chance to prepare sandwiches for you and Master Timothy."
"That's okay, Alfred, I'm not hungry and Tim already left…He won't be coming back."
Alfred and Leslie stared at each other for a long moment, the doctor's look taking on even more determination.
"Oh, I see," Alfred whispered at last.
"What are you doing here, Leslie?" Dick asked.
"Oh, uh, I just stopped by to drop off some arthritis medication for Alfred," she answered, using the excuse the two had already agreed on.
"I didn't know you had arthritis, Alfred," Dick said. "Are you alright?"
"Oh, yes, it's just a little twinge now and again, nothing to worry about," the butler said, rubbing his knuckles. "Now, here, let me pour you some tea."
He fussed with the tea for a moment then handed the cup over to his young master. Dick accepted the cup gratefully, wrapping his chilled fingers around the warm ceramic. He was about to take a sip, when he became aware that the older couple was watching him intently. He glanced back and forth at them a moment before his eyes rested on Leslie.
"What's in the tea?" he asked.
"Oh, it's just that herbal mixture that you like," Alfred answered quickly. "I just put some honey in it to sweeten it up a bit."
"I was asking her," Dick said quietly. "What's in the tea?"
The older woman returned his steady laser-blue gaze defiantly for moment before she finally dropped her eyes to her lap.
"About 15 milligrams of Valium," she said with a sigh.
He heaved his own heavy sigh, shaking his head in disappointment. He set the cup down on the counter with an audible click, ignoring the hot tea that sloshed onto his hand.
"Good night," he murmured as he left the kitchen.
"Well, that went well," Alfred said dryly.
Dick had left Bruce's office at WayneTech headquarters largely untouched. The only concession he had made in redecorating was to remove the generic modern art paintings, that Bruce had placed on the walls simply to cover them, and replace them with framed circus posterbills.
He sat at the huge mahogany desk, a thick binder filled with pie charts, graphs and lots of numbers open before him. The numbers had ceased to make sense to him hours ago and now he was just trying to absorb all the pretty colors in all the pretty graphs. Gradually his eyes began to close and his head began to sink towards the desk. He jerked awake with a start. It was the third time he had started to fall asleep in the last half hour.
His eyes drifted over to the long, leather couch. It looked so comfortable, so inviting. For a moment he thought he could actually hear it calling to him. Dick, come lay down and close your eyes, just for a few minutes. No one will notice. For a moment he was so tempted to give in to that voice. He gave his head a determined shake.
No, I've got a board meeting in two hours and I can't even finish reading the report. How am I going to stay awake for the entire meeting, Dick thought. Maybe if I have Vicki hook me up to an intravenous coffee drip, I could stay awake.
He was just reaching over to press the call button on the intercom to ask Vicki, his secretary to bring him some coffee, when the intercom beeped at him instead.
Pressing the answer button, he said, "Yes, Vicki?"
"I'm sorry to disturb you Mr. Grayson, but you have some visitors here. I tried to tell them that you were very busy preparing for your board meeting this afternoon, but they have been most insistent on seeing you."
Dick heard some muffled noises over the intercom and a soft gasp. Vicki's cultured tones were abruptly replaced by a loud male voice booming into the speakers.
"Come on, Grayson, it's past noon, you gotta eat some time."
"Roy?" Dick asked.
"Hey, give that man a cigar!"
In the background, Dick heard a familiar female voice. "Roy, stop that, you're embarrassing us!"
"I take it, that's Donna with you?" he asked.
"He's two for two," Roy's cheerful voice continued. "And now for the bonus round. Can you guess who Mystery Guest number three is?"
"Uh, Wally?"
"Oh, he is good! …Dick, Man, can we come in already? If you don't give us the okay soon, I think the babe here is gonna call security. And you know I don't want to have to hurt anybody."
Dick chuckled softly to himself. "It's okay Vicki, they can come in."
"As you wish, Mr. Grayson," Vicki's voice fairly dripped with disapproval.
The door to his office opened and his three friends trooped in, looking very casual. He could see why Vicki had been skeptical about them. She had never seen Dick in anything but a suit and so probably had no idea that he had friends who would dress any differently.
"Dick, we're so sorry about barging in on you like this," Donna said, "but we were in the city and thought we'd see how you were doing. We haven't seen or heard from you since the funeral. And I do apologize for Roy's behavior, I knew I should have put him on a leash before we walked in the building."
For emphasis, she slugged the red-haired archer in the upper arm.
"Ow! Hey, watch it with the super strength there, Wonder Babe, that's my sighting arm," Roy said, rubbing his sore left arm.
"You deserved it. You were acting like a child. Sometimes I worry that you're a bad influence on Lian."
"Hey, it's all part of the Harper charm."
Donna rolled her eyes to the ceiling.
While the two former lovers continued to banter good-naturedly, Wally drifted closer to the desk. When the others entered, Dick had stood and moved around to the front of the desk and was now leaning against it, one leg draped across the nearest corner.
"So, how are you holding up?" Wally asked quietly.
"It's been pretty hectic, but I'm okay."
"You sure? You look like hell."
"Yes, I'm sure. I'm just having a little trouble sleeping these days. Of course the board meeting I've got this afternoon should take care of that."
"Oh, yeah, sounds like a blast. Listen, come buy lunch for us and we'll help you unwind. It'll be good for you. In fact, why don't you just blow off this board meeting and we'll have some real fun."
"Wally, I'd love to, really, but I can't. I've got too much to do. It's not just the board meeting. I've got a thousand other things that need my attention."
"Come on, what could be more important than hanging out with your three oldest friends?" Roy said as he and Donna drifted over to join the conversation. "Friends that you have been severely neglecting of late, by the way. And besides, a guy your age should not be spending all of his time worrying about board meetings. You should be out cruising the bars, looking to get laid, not that that's ever been a problem for you."
"Roy, I have never cruised a bar in my life and I have no intention of starting now. And we all know that I don't spend all of my time worrying about board meetings."
"Yes, that's something else we wanted to talk to you about," Donna said hesitantly. "We think that maybe you should cut back on that a little bit."
"Oh, do we?"
"Dick, not even Bruce went out every single night. Even he took some time off. He went out, he had a social life, even if it was a pretend one."
"Yeah, ever since we got into the city all we've heard is lamenting from the gossip rags about how Gotham's newest Most Eligible Bachelor is a virtual hermit," Roy added. "You know, Grayson, you're drawing more attention to yourself by not living up to their expectations than you would if you did. Somehow, I don't think that's what you intended."
Dick sighed. Roy had a point, one that he hadn't considered. He hadn't noticed that the gossip papers were paying such close attention to his activities, or lack thereof. Hell, he hadn't noticed much of anything that didn't directly involve WayneTech or fighting crime. But to let up now seemed so much like he was letting someone down, although he wasn't quite sure who that someone was.
"Dick, please come to lunch with us," Donna asked. "You look like you've lost weight. You haven't been eating much, have you?"
He couldn't help but smile. He never could hide anything from Donna. He looked up and saw the concern in her clear blue eyes. Glancing at Roy and Wally, he saw her concern mirrored in their eyes as well. But instead of touching a sympathetic chord in him, their concern only irritated him. It told him that like everyone else, they did not think he was capable of handling the job. His smile quickly faded.
"I'm fine," he said coolly.
Noting his abrupt mood change, the other three glanced at each other. They knew him well enough to know that they had somehow entered dangerous territory. They would need to proceed cautiously.
"Honey, look, we're not trying to act like overprotective parents here, but please try to understand that we're concerned about you," Donna said, soothingly.
"And we're not the only ones," Wally spoke up, starting to get impatient with Dick's defensive attitude. "The Oracle contacted Superman at the Watchtower yesterday and-."
"Wait a minute," Dick interrupted, "the Oracle contacted Superman?"
"Oh, Wally…," Donna whined.
"Good one, Dude," Roy whispered dryly, patting the speedster on the back. "Let's get him really pissed off."
"What?" Wally asked, glancing at his two co-conspirators. "Look, I don't know about you two, but I'm getting tired of pussy-footing around. Dick, you're acting like a jerk! You fired Robin, you disconnected the Oracle and now you won't talk to us. Just what the hell is up your ass, Grayson?"
"My father has died and my life has been turned completely upside- down, excuse me if I'm not adjusting quickly enough for you."
"Dick, look, I'm sorry. Okay, that was out of line, but you have got to let someone help you before you kill yourself. You know, Bruce didn't do this job alone. He had help. He-."
"Oh no, don't you dare try to tell me what Bruce did or didn't do. How the hell would you know? And how dare you come into my city and try to tell me what I should or shouldn't do."
"Your city?" Roy said softly. "Doesn't that sound familiar?"
"Don't go there, Harper."
"Dick…," Wally started.
"Get out."
"What?"
"Get out of my office. Get out of my building. And get the hell out of my city."
"Dick, please…," Donna said.
"Get out or I will have security escort you out," Dick whispered dangerously.
"Come on, guys, let's go," Roy said, starting to usher the others toward the door.
Donna hesitated for a moment watching Dick, but he had turned his back and stalked around the desk to resume his seat. He did not look up at her. She turned and followed Roy and Wally out, feeling like a part of her soul had just been carved away.
Dick sat staring unseeing at the binder in front of him long after the soft sounds of their footsteps had receded and the door had clicked shut behind them. Now that his anger had faded, he realized that he had just alienated the last of the people who truly cared about him.
What the hell is the matter with me? Why do I keep doing this, he screamed in his mind. His eyes fell on the picture of he and Bruce that he had found on the desk earlier. Did you really love me, he silently asked the image of his foster father. Did you even care at all? Why couldn't you just tell me?!
A sudden uncontrollable rage flared in him and grabbing the picture he threw it across the room where it smashed against the far wall. Almost immediately the door to his office burst open as his secretary and a security guard rushed inside.
"Mr. Grayson, is everything alright?" the guard asked.
"Get out!" Dick yelled. "Get out and stay out!"
Appreciatively cowed, the man and the woman quickly backed out, closing the door behind them. Alone and suddenly completely exhausted, his head pounding mercilessly, Dick collapsed onto the leather couch.
am borrowing them for purely entertainment purposes and I am making no money from them…blah, blah, blah, yadda, yadda, yadda.
*Continuity note: This story doesn't take place at any particular time, but in this story Gordon is still the Commissioner of Gotham City.
HONOR THY FATHER
2/5/01
Dick stood listening to the sound of the rain drumming softly against the window of Bruce's office. Up here on the 40th floor of the WayneTech Headquaters Building, even the endless noise of the city was distant. Dick watched the drops of rain hit the glass, merge with other drops and form little rivulets that rushed downward, toward the street. He was mesmerized by this endless ballet, the movement of the rivulets against the glass. He had long ago lost track of the time he had spent just standing and staring at the rain. Eventually the sound of someone softly clearing their throat behind him, drew him back to his surroundings.
"Dick, I'm sorry to disturb you, but everyone is here now and I think the lawyers are ready to start reading the will."
"Yeah, I'll be right there," Dick said over his shoulder to Lucius Fox, the CEO of WayneTech Enterprises.
Turning to leave the office, Dick's eye was caught by a silver picture frame that sat on the large, mahogany desk. It housed a photograph taken many years ago at one of the many charity functions that Bruce Wayne held. It showed Bruce and Dick standing together smiling, they were wearing matching black tuxedos and looking slightly uncomfortable. Dick was perhaps twelve or thirteen years old. He couldn't remember exactly when or where the photo had been taken. He couldn't even remember having seen the photo before now.
Damn it, Bruce, he thought bitterly, how could you die on me? Why now? Why so soon? There was so much I never got the chance to say to you.
Blinking back the hot, angry tears that were forming at the corners of his eyes, Dick squared his shoulders, took a deep breath and started towards the executive boardroom down the hall. Let's get this over with, he thought grimly. Besides, Bruce would probably turn in his freshly dug grave if he knew that I had kept his top executives waiting.
As he stepped into the large, oval-shaped room that was dominated by a table of the same shape, a hush fell over the crowd gathered there and every eye turned towards the pale young man. Dark smudges under the eyes and cheekbones that looked a bit too hollow marred his normally flawless, handsome face. The harsh glare of TV camera lights and the sporadic flashes from still cameras only heightened this effect.
At a gesture from Lucius, Dick joined him at the head of the table. As he took his seat, the rest of the large, dark-suited entourage around the table followed him. He glanced around at the somber, expectant faces turned toward him, but said nothing.
Standing and laying a comforting hand on the younger man's shoulder, Lucius addressed the group. "It's been a very long and sad day, so I won't take up too much of your time. I just wanted to say to Dick, on behalf of all of us, that working for Bruce Wayne all these years was a joy. The man never ceased to surprise me. He had boundless energy, endless compassion, and an unfailing dedication to Gotham City. I don't think that people truly realized any of that about him. I can honestly say that when I heard that his private jet had gone down in the Swiss Alps, it was probably the darkest day of my life. He will be sorely missed."
Dick glanced up at the dark face of Bruce's right hand man in business. Lucius Fox was sort of Bruce's corporate version of Alfred, someone he completely trusted to handle things when "other" business took precedence.
"Thank you, Lucius," Dick whispered and gave the man a wan smile.
"Well, I guess we can get down to the business that we all came here for. I'll turn things over to Daniel Gavin, of Gavin, Gavin and Kraus, and the head of WayneTech's legal council."
Lucius took his seat and another man, seated to the left of Dick, stood and cleared his throat. He was a stocky man in his late fifties with a thick shock of snow-white hair that contrasted dramatically with his perpetually red-flushed face. The man adjusted the half-frame glasses that were perched on the end of his nose and held up a small stack of papers.
"This is the last will and testament of Bruce Thomas Wayne. I myself drew up the document so I can assure you all of its authenticity and legality. I'm not going to read the entire document as it is fairly long and detailed as you can all imagine considering the vast sums of wealth that was at Mr. Wayne's disposal.
"The major dispensations are as follows; 'to Alfred Pennyworth, who has worked in the employ of my family as butler for nearly a half century, I leave an annual salary of one million dollars that is to continue for the rest of his natural life.'"
The reading was interrupted by a great deal of hushed whispers, shock registering at such a generous bequeathment to a simple domestic servant. Gavin waited a moment for the whispers to die down before continuing.
"Mr. Wayne also set up a million dollar annual allowance for the Leslie Thompkins Medical Clinic, located in the area commonly referred to as Crime Alley, as well as something he refers to as the Clocktower Fund. There are several other charities listed with much smaller donations that I won't take the time to name."
Gavin paused for a moment, shuffling through his papers, ostensibly trying to find his place. He's enjoying the limelight far too much, Dick thought sourly. Just get on with it. Give them what they all came here for and let us go home.
As though reading Dick's thoughts the stocky attorney cleared his throat, adjusted his glasses again and continued with his reading. "Now, getting down to the heart of the matter, as most everyone here knows Mr. Wayne was a devout bachelor and unfortunately died without leaving an heir of his own body…"
Gavin paused again to read directly from the document.
"'The remainder of my wealth, the control of the company that my family built and all of its subsidiaries, the house that has been in my family for generations, the grounds on which it stands, as well as everything contained therein, I leave to my former legal ward and foster son, Richard John Grayson.'"
Dick took a deep breath and bowed his head ignoring the camera flashes going off and the burst of questions directed at him from the various media members. Of course he had known that Bruce was leaving everything to him, but somehow it seemed so different hearing it read officially here in this boardroom in front of all the media. It's really true. Bruce really is dead. He isn't coming back this time. I really am Batman now.
It suddenly felt as if the walls were closing in on him. He was having trouble getting enough oxygen into his lungs. Dick stood shakily to deliver his already prepared statement, but as he looked up at all the faces leaning in towards him demanding his attention, the room began to spin. He turned to Lucius to ask for some water, but his vision abruptly narrowed, then blackness closed around him.
The feel of something cool and wet against his forehead, pulled Dick back from the darkness. He opened his eyes slowly to look into the warm brown eyes of Leslie Thompkins. She smiled.
"Welcome back," she said gently. "How do you feel?"
"Like my head's about to explode."
"When's the last time you ate?"
"You mean, like, food?" He tried very hard, but just couldn't seem to remember when the last time solid food had passed his lips.
"Yes, food, you know, that solid stuff that you actually have to chew. Those vile protein concoctions that you and Bruce drink don't count."
Realizing what she had just said, Leslie looked away flustered. Dick sat up gingerly and put a hand on her shoulder.
"It's going to be okay. We'll get through this," he whispered. He handed the wet washcloth that she had laid on his forehead back to her. "So, how much of an ass did I make of myself?"
"You did not make an ass of yourself, Dick. I think everyone in that room understood."
Dick nodded absently and rubbed his temples, trying to clear his throbbing head. He had been lying on the long, black leather upholstered couch in Bruce's office. The lights were dim and when the door to the office abruptly opened the sudden addition of light and noise from the outside lobby, sent pain knifing into Dick's skull. With a groan, he buried his head in his hands.
"How are you, young sir?" Alfred asked gently, entering the room and closing the door behind him. There was a brief buzz of activity when the door opened as reporters camped in the lobby tried vainly to get a peek inside at Gotham City's newest Most Eligible Bachelor.
"I'll live."
Leslie smiled warmly at Alfred and said, "He'll be alright. He just needs a decent meal and a good night's sleep."
Dick shook his head. "No time," he said. "Alfred, I need you to call everyone together tonight, including Helena. There's a lot we need to discuss."
"Dick, surely this can wait until tomorrow. You just collapsed, that's your body's way of telling you that you need to slow down and take care of yourself."
"I didn't collapse, Leslie, I just passed out. If it will make you feel better, I'll sleep in the car on the way back to the manor. And I'm sure Alfred can whip something up for me to eat when we get there."
"Oh, yes, I have plenty of experience with 'whipping' things up," Alfred said dryly.
Dick smiled at him sheepishly. "Thank you," he said. "Can you make those phone calls from the car phone while I talk to Lucius for a few minutes? I'll meet you at the car."
"Yes sir, I'll take care of everything."
Standing, Dick straightened his tie and allowed Alfred to help him back into his suit coat. He squeezed the older man's shoulder.
"I'll see you in a few minutes, and thank you, Leslie," he said as he turned and left the office.
Sighing heavily, Leslie accepted the hand Alfred offered to help her up from her kneeling position on the floor. Once back on her feet, she smoothed out her long, dark skirt and rubbed her aching back.
"Well, it looks like it's starting already," she said. "I had hoped that Dick wouldn't feel the need to be quite as driven as Bruce was, but …"
"As you said earlier, he'll be alright," Alfred said optimistically, "he just needs some time to settle into the new role."
"I desperately hope you're right."
Dick sat staring impassively at the expectant faces of his new team. Robin, Batgirl and Azreal were all in costume, awaiting his instructions. Behind him, on the large computer screen, Oracle's computer-generated image gazed out impassively. Dick was the only one not in costume. He was dressed simply in a close-fitting, one-piece, black tracksuit.
"Uh, what, exactly are we waiting for?" Robin asked finally, unable to stand the silence any longer.
"We're waiting for the last member of the team to arrive," Dick answered. "I want everyone here for this."
The other three exchanged puzzled looks. Robin glanced up momentarily at the big screen, not that he really expected any hints from the computerized image. Heaving a sigh, he settled in for the wait, which turned out to be much shorter than expected.
Everyone turned toward the outside entrance to the Batcave as Bruce's black Bentley pulled into the cave. Alfred stepped out from the driver's side and walked around to the back passenger side and opened the door. Extending his hand, he helped the Huntress to step from the vehicle. She looked around in amazement.
"So, this must be the famous Batcave," she said.
"Yes," Dick said, standing and moving towards her. "Welcome…my name is Dick Grayson."
He extended his hand to her. Returning his firm handshake, she smiled and nodded.
"Well then, if you're Dick Grayson…then Batman is…was, Bruce Wayne."
"Yes."
"I see. So, are you Batman now?"
"That's what we're here to discuss. Huntress, I don't think you've been formally introduced…this is Azreal." Dick indicated the tall, blond man in the armor and red cape.
The man removed his hood and mask and extended his hand. "Jean-Paul Vallee," he said.
Huntress paused for only a second. Oh, what the hell, it's not like I've got anything left to hide, she thought, removing her own mask.
"Helena Bertinelli," she said, shaking the man's hand.
"This is Batgirl," Dick continued the introductions.
The girl pulled back her full hood to reveal shoulder-length black hair and delicate Oriental features. "Call me Cassandra," she said haltingly.
Helena nodded to the girl and they moved to the last member of the team.
"And you know Robin."
When the boy remained conspicuously silent, Helena raised an eyebrow expectantly. The dark-haired boy shifted a bit uncomfortably.
"Sorry, it's just Robin," he said, sheepishly.
"Don't take it personally," Dick said smiling, "even the Oracle doesn't know his real name."
"Well, aren't we the mystery man," Helena said.
The boy glanced down at his feet, a slight blush coloring his cheeks below his mask.
Clearing his throat, Dick drew everyone's attention to himself and turned to address the image on the computer screen.
"Now that we're all here. Oracle, why don't you take over," he said.
The flat, computer-modulated voice, carefully pitched to a non-gender- specific tone, echoed eerily in the vast cave.
"After the incident with Bane, Batman came to realize that he needed a final contingency plan, a last will and testament, if you please. He recorded it onto CD-rom and left it in my keeping. He asked me to play it for all of you, in the event that something should happen to him. As we all know, that event has happened. Batman, Bruce Wayne, is dead. This is the recording he left behind…"
There was a moment of silence as the computer screen went blank then an image of Batman came up. He was seated in a chair and dressed in costume, his cowl pushed back, his hair tousled. He looked tired. From the details apparent in the background, the recording had been made recently, since the cave had been rebuilt.
"Since the Oracle is playing this for you, I can only assume that something dire has happened. I am dead, comatose, or missing. If I have died as Batman, I must assume that you have managed to protect my secret identity, otherwise why bother to watch this?" He gave a short humorless laugh, but sobered immediately.
"If this is the case, Alfred and Oracle already have a detailed plan to plant a diversionary trail to trick everyone into believing that Bruce Wayne is still alive. They will run through this plan for approximately one year, after which I will have an unfortunate accident and will be declared legally dead.
"This plan, of course, is based on the assumption that someone will have assumed the role of Batman in my place. Even if Batman's 'death' was spectacularly public, if another one appears days later, it will only help our cause, reinforcing the thought that Batman cannot be killed, in the minds of the criminal element. And if that death was not public, hopefully no will even notice the difference.
"Dick, I ask you to take up the mantle in my place. I know that I am asking a lot from you. I am asking you to give up the life that you have made for yourself in Bludhaven. But I only ask for one year. I don't want anyone to connect the death or disappearance of Batman with the death or disappearance of Bruce Wayne. If a year separates these occurrences, it will be much less suspicious.
"Of course, if I have died as Bruce Wayne, it makes things much easier. I will, of course, leave everything to you and all you have to do is take over as Batman, again, for one year only, if that is your wish.
"Robin, Azreal, if Dick is unable or unwilling to take up the mantle, I ask that you respect my choice. If Dick does not become Batman, than no one does and to hell with the consequences. I also ask that you follow him just as you would me, this includes you too, Batgirl, Oracle. Dick is Batman now."
Bruce paused for a moment and looked down. It seemed as if there was more he wanted to say, but didn't know how to start. He looked up again and opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. He sighed and made a gesture of resignation.
"Uh, that's enough for now, Oracle, but I…I may have more later."
The screen became black and seconds later returned to image of the Oracle. Dick turned back to face his team.
"Well, you've all seen it, any objections?" he asked.
No one spoke for a long moment. Then Huntress cleared her throat softly.
"I, uh, couldn't help but notice that Batm-Bruce didn't mention me in his little roster run down."
"Yes, well, I'm making my first executive decision. The team is short one body, I need to fill the void. Do you want the job or not?"
The two stared at each other for a long moment then Huntress shrugged one shoulder.
"Sure, what the hell, it's not like I've got anything better to do."
"And you understand that I'm in charge?"
"Yes, Sir," she said, giving him a mock salute.
"Good, come by the cave tomorrow night. I'll get you caught up with the rest of the team in terms of equipment, communication protocols, etc… This meeting is over. It's late, the rest of you can go out if you like, but I'm going to bed. It's been a long day. Good night."
Dick sank down in the chair behind him and swiveled it around to face the computer. Once the others had drifted out of the cave and only Dick remained, the Oracle image disappeared from the screen to be replaced by Barbara Gordon's lovely features.
"Are you sure bringing Huntress into the team was a good idea?" she asked.
"What I said earlier is true, we're down a body, she can fill the gap. Besides, if she's on the team, I can keep a closer eye on her."
"Oh, I get it, the old 'keep your friends close, but keep your enemies closer' routine?"
"Helena hardly qualifies as an enemy."
"Right, I guess you just forgot about that Huntress/Pettit team up during the NML. You know, the one that almost got both of us killed?"
"Don't go there, Barbara."
Barbara was momentarily taken aback. There was a definite cold edge to Dick's voice and it had been many years since he had addressed her as anything but "Babs".
"Dick, are you alright?" she asked gently.
He sighed heavily. "I'm fine," he said wearily.
"You look exhausted. Why don't you go get so-."
"Some sleep? Don't worry, that's where I'm headed, Mother," he snapped angrily.
"Dick, I…" she started, clearly hurt by his words.
"No, Babs, I'm sorry, I had no right to snap at you like that. It's just that I'm getting really sick of people asking me if I'm all right… I worked so hard to build myself a new life, one separate from Bruce. I have friends, I have a job I truly enjoy and I think I was actually starting to make a difference in Bludhaven. But because of a stupid mechanical failure on an airplane, I lose not only my closest friend, my…father, but I lose my life as well."
As he spoke Dick's voice rose in volume and he became increasingly agitated.
"And the worst part is, I could handle it, in fact, I would be happy to give up everything for him if he could have just given me…something back. Anything, a 'thank you', or a 'good job, son', anything, but I got nothing. You saw the recording. There was nothing, just his usual 'be a good soldier and do as you're told' routine. And I can't argue with him, I can't even tell myself that maybe he'll give me something more later, because he's dead!"
Dick was standing now, his fists clenched and his body shaking visibly. With a deep breath, he leaned over the computer console and bowed his head.
"He's dead," he repeated, his voice barely above a whisper. It was obvious that he was fighting to maintain control and not break down.
"Dick, it's okay," Barbara said softly, wishing desperately that she were there in person so that she could provide him with physical comfort as well as kind words. "It's okay to feel angry, none of this is fair. And you don't have to act strong in front of me. You can let it go, it won't change my opinion of you."
Much calmer now, Dick looked up and gave her a weak smile.
"Thank you for listening to my rantings, but I can't let go. I don't have the time for that luxury. There's too much to do. But right now, I'm tired. I'm going to bed. Good night, Babs."
Barbara left the connection open, watching as he wearily stood and climbed the long stairway up to the manor. Only when she was sure that he had indeed done as he said he would and hadn't changed his mind and come back down, did she terminate the transmission.
Batman stood atop the four-story Gotham First National Bank building and surveyed the skyline. So far it had been a quiet night, no major crimes, just a couple of muggings and a break-in attempt. Robin was scheduled to meet him there in fifteen minutes. Batman would have a plan of action ready by the time the youth joined him.
Dick reached up and pinched the bridge of his nose and grimaced slightly, his eyes closed. Despite the aspirins he'd taken earlier, the headache was returning. They were fast becoming a regular part of his life. Between spending most of his days at WayneTech and his nights on the streets, finding time to sleep was difficult. And unfortunately, even when he did manage to find a few hours for a quick nap, sleep didn't seem to come easily. He often found himself just lying in bed, staring at the ceiling, his mind too busy to allow rest.
Dick knew that Bruce often took advantage of his playboy persona to "play hooky" from work to get some extra sleep or recover from injuries when he needed to, but for some reason Dick just couldn't bring himself to adopt the same strategy. He desperately wanted to be perceived as a responsible young man, as someone who could handle the job. Perhaps it was because he was not Bruce's son biologically that made him try so hard. He did not bear the Wayne name and therefore felt that he had to prove himself to Bruce's executives.
Even as preoccupied as he was, Batman was instantly aware of a slight flapping sound and a hint of movement behind him. His body tensing, he slipped a hand down to his belt and pulled out a batarang. He calmly turned to face whoever was sneaking up on him, ready for anything. Seeing a tall, very muscular silhouette floating slowly towards him and a momentary flash of a red cape, Batman replaced the batarang but did not lose the tension in his body. What is Superman doing here, he thought. Checking up on me?
As his feet touched the rooftop, Superman strolled forward calmly, easily. But his sharp, alien eyes quickly detected the tense, defensive lines in the body of the younger man before him. Odd, he thought, I would have expected this reaction from Bruce, but Dick and I have always gotten along. I always considered us to be on friendly terms.
"Superman," the dark caped man said, evenly.
Well, he certainly has the Voice down, Superman thought. He could detect that the younger man's voice was a shade or two higher pitched than his mentor's had been, but he doubted that anyone with less sensitive hearing would notice the difference.
"Batman, I just dropped in to see how everything was going. I assume that things are …running smoothly?"
"As can be expected."
Superman nodded. "Actually, I just came from the Watchtower. It's just not the same up there without a dark, brooding presence lurking in the shadows."
He had intended the comment as a joke, to ease the tension from the conversation. But when he got no reaction, he cleared his throat uncomfortably.
"What I'm trying to ask, is if you would like to … resume your place in the Justice League. We've all discussed it and you are more than welcome to join us."
There was a long pause as the dark caped young man considered this offer.
"I thank you for the invitation," he said, finally, "but I'm afraid I must decline."
"But we-."
"I'm sorry," the younger man interrupted. "But I-I'm just not ready."
The older man seemed about to protest further, but stopped and instead asked, "Are you alright?"
There was a slight pause. "I'm fine, I just need some time to adjust." The voice was tight.
"Yes, well, please let me know if you change your mind."
Turning, the brightly clad figure took a few steps away, then simply leaped into the air and silently disappeared into the night. As Dick watched the retreating figure, he became aware of another presence on the rooftop and turned to see Robin emerge from where he had been crouched behind a roof vent.
"Wow, what did he want?" the youth asked as he approached.
"He came to invite me to join the JLA."
"Really? Cool."
"I told him no."
"Oh."
"Robin, I can barely keep up with what's going on in Gotham City. I'm certainly not ready to try to tackle a world crisis."
"Yeah, I suppose you're right. So, what's the game plan for tonight?"
"Well, things seem to be pretty quiet around here. I say we head to the upper west side, see if thing's are a little more lively at that end of town."
The youth gestured for Batman to lead. "I'll be right behind you."
Alighting on the roof of the nearest tall building, the two crime- fighters walked to the edge and scanned the streets below them. Things seemed to be pretty quiet at this end of town as well. Dick was almost beginning to think that perhaps he was going to get a decent night's sleep for once.
"Aw, man," Robin whined, "the first night in weeks that I finally manage to sneak away from school and into town and nothings happening. Nothing, not even a mugging."
"You do realize that these are good things, don't you?" Dick asked dryly.
"Well, yeah, but I wanted some action."
As if on cue, they heard a woman's scream coming from very close by.
"Yes!" Robin hissed, pumping a fist.
"You know, you worry me sometimes," Dick said, already playing out his jumpline and preparing to swing into action.
In perfect synchronization, the two young men swung off the building and out over the street towards the alley where the scream had come from. They dropped silently behind a small knot of five men who had cornered a young woman and were advancing on her menacingly.
"Excuse us, gentlemen, but could we have a word with you a moment?" Robin asked glibly.
The men turned around and a couple of them paled visibly.
"Aw, man, it's The Bat," one man mumbled.
"Chill, Rico," a muscular blond said confidently, "it's five against two, or should I say one and a half. I'd say the odds are in our favor."
"You've never fought The Bat and his Brat before, have you?"
Ignoring Rico, Blondie strolled forward confidently, cracking his knuckles.
"Okay, who wants to go first?"
Turning to Robin, Batman said, "Get the girl to safety."
Turning back, he gestured the blond man forward.
With a flash of yellowed teeth, Blondie pulled a switchblade from the top of his boot and dropped to a crouch. Batman stood impassive and unmoving, his cape settled over him, completely cloaking his body. He didn't even shift his body as the knife-wielding man began to slowly circle him.
Meanwhile, Robin was cautiously approaching the girl where she had curled up in a frightened ball against the wall at the back of the alley. Tearing his eyes away from the impending fight between his blond friend and the vigilante, the man nearest the girl stepped up to challenge Robin.
"Uhn-uh, Little Birdie, that's our prize. You go get your own."
The man was taller than the youth by several inches, but he had a lean, wiry build. His weapon of choice also was a switchblade. With his much shorter reach, Robin was at a disadvantage, until he extended his retractable bo staff. At the sight of it, the older man's look of confidence wavered slightly.
"So, the Little Birdie has teeth after all," he sneered.
Without a word, Robin swung one end of his staff across the man's face. With the other end he swept the man's feet out from under him. With a final blow to the head, Thug #3 was down for the count. Robin looked up just in time to see Thug #4 rushing him.
With Batman's attention focused on Blondie and Robin busy with his man, the smallish man addressed earlier as Rico, began cautiously making his way over to the girl. As he moved, he slipped out his own blade, a large scuba knife, with a serrated edge on one side and a smooth edge on the other.
On his second circuit around the still motionless Batman, Blondie made his move, leaping at the vigilante from behind. With barely a telltale ripple of cape, the masked man spun around, the heel of his boot connecting with Blondie's jaw with a solid crack. Blondie collapsed to the pavement in an unmoving heap.
Batman glanced up at the fifth thug and smiled. With a look of sheer panic, the man screamed and literally flung himself at the dark-cowled crimefighter. A simple fist to the jaw brought the man down. Batman looked over in time to see Robin finish off his second opponent with a jab to the gut with his staff and a fist across the jaw. Both men turned to see Rico standing behind the girl. He was holding her head by the hair, his knife against her throat.
"Don't come any closer or I swear I'll cut her," the man warned.
Batman took a deliberate step forward.
"Don't be stupid, Rico," he said quietly. "You so much as bruise that girl and you can forget about ever sleeping again, because I'll be on your ass so hard I'll be in your dreams. You'll see my shadow every time you close your eyes. Now, let the girl go."
The look in the man's eyes was verging on hysterical and for a moment, Robin worried that he actually might carry out his threat. With a sudden burst of energy, Rico flung the girl toward Batman and bolted around him as he lunged forward to catch her.
"Robin, take her!" Batman barked sharply as he thrust the now limp girl into the younger man's arms and started after the fleeing thug.
Emerging from the alley, Batman just caught sight of Rico disappearing down a side street half a block away. Pumping his legs as hard as he could, Batman ate up the distance between himself and the other man. Reaching out, he grabbed onto one of Rico's arms and spun him around. Using his forward momentum, he delivered a devastating punch to the man's midsection. Rico doubled over with a loud groan. He groaned again as a kneecap connected with his chin. Pulling him up by the hair, Batman cocked a fist back for another blow, when a voice penetrated the fury-induced haze in his brain.
"That's enough, he's done!"
Abruptly, the anger drained from his limbs. Glancing back, he saw the slightly shocked look on Robin's face. Batman thrust Rico's swaying body towards the boy who caught him before he could hit the ground.
"Call GCPD," Batman said quietly as he drifted off into the shadows.
The dark, shadowy figure stood atop a nearby building, watching as the cops took away the now-conscious thugs and an ambulance took away the traumatized, but relatively unharmed girl. Not knowing why he did what he did, Dick slunk back further into the shadows as Commissioner Gordon's eyes drifted up and scanned past the place where he was standing. He was reluctant to have to face the man, but he knew that he would have to sooner or later. The slight scrape of a boot alerted him to Robin's arrival.
"I'm sorry I left you to deal with the cops alone," Dick said without turning around.
"It's okay," Tim said. "Gordon asked about you."
"What did you tell him?"
"That you were in a bad mood."
Dick had to give a short laugh at that. "That's true enough, I guess."
"Are you alright?"
"I'm fine… It's getting late, do you want a ride back to school?"
"Sure, thanks."
The ride back to Brentwood Academy, on the outskirts of the city, was long and quiet. As they were approaching the school grounds, Tim couldn't keep silent any longer.
"Do you want to talk about it?"
"About what?"
"Bruce?"
"There's nothing to talk about, Tim. He's dead."
"Then why are you acting so weird?"
"How am I acting weird?"
"You're acting all moody and morose…you're acting like him. Just because you take over his role, doesn't mean you have to take over his personality."
The silence was excruciating.
"Dick, say something."
"What do you want to hear?"
"That you're okay. That nothing is going to change with us."
Dick slowed the batmobile to a stop. They were within sight of the school grounds. He couldn't go any further without running the risk of attracting attention. He turned to face Tim.
"I am fine, Tim. I'm just tired. And everything is going to be all right. Go on, you'd better get back to your room before someone notices you're gone."
"Okay," Tim said, managing a weak smile. "See ya, later."
Leslie finished wrapping the bandages around Dick's ribs and stepped back to busy herself with tidying the implements of her trade. She turned back to her patient as he gingerly stretched his arms overhead, testing his range of motion.
"Easy, you'll rip the stitches open. I don't suppose it'll do any good to tell you to take it easy for a while?"
Dick just glared at her.
"No, I didn't think so. Here, at least take these painkillers. They'll help you sleep through the night. Alfred tells me that you haven't been sleeping very well."
"Alfred should mind his own business."
"Dick, he's concerned about you and, frankly, so am I. You aren't taking care of yourself. You're taking unnecessary risks. I'd almost say that you're deliberately trying to kill yourself… Are you?"
"What?"
"Trying to kill yourself?"
"Why would I do that?"
"To get back at Bruce."
"How can I get back at Bruce? He's dead."
"I know that, do you?"
"What? Of course I know that he's dead. If he wasn't, I wouldn't be wearing that damn cape and cowl."
"Then why won't you let him go? Why do you keep trying to punish him if you know that he's dead?"
"I don't know what you're talking about," Dick said, standing a bit unsteadily and starting to put his uniform shirt back on. There was a bloody rent in the black fabric where a gangbanger had gotten a lucky knife slash on him. Dick had to admit that these "lucky shots" were becoming more and more frequent of late.
"You are so angry at Bruce for dying that you can't let him go," Leslie said. "And if you don't let him go and get on with your life, you're going to get yourself killed."
"Get on with my life? How can I get on with my life? It's back in Bludhaven. I had to leave it behind, along with my career, because Bruce…" He couldn't continue, not without losing control completely and he wasn't going to do that. "I have to get back to the cave, I'm sure Robin and Oracle will be calling in to check on me."
"Dick, please take the painkillers. Please, at least try to get some sleep. For me," Leslie begged.
He nodded reluctantly and accepted the brown plastic bottle half full of white caplets. He had no intention of taking them, but he would humor her. He slipped the bottle into one of the pouches of his utility belt. As he went to reach for his cape, pain shot through his side and he hissed loudly, trying to stifle a groan.
"Here, let me," Leslie said, helping to settle the heavy cape over his shoulders. "You know, it's okay to ask for help once in a while. No one would think you were weak."
She reached a hand up to lightly trace one bruised cheekbone. "Please, be careful," she whispered.
The batmobile pulled into the Batcave and came to a screeching halt. Almost before the vehicle was completely stopped, the passenger door flung open and Robin jumped out to stalk angrily towards the huge computer console. The driver's side door opened and a much more calm Batman exited the vehicle.
Tearing the mask from his face and flinging it across the room, Robin whirled around to face his partner, fury marring his handsome, youthful features.
"What the hell were you doing?! What were you trying to prove? Were you trying to get yourself and all those men killed?" the boy yelled.
"I was trying to stop a group of terrorists from blowing up the Gotham City Stock Exchange," the answer was delivered in a calm and dispassionate voice.
"How? By blowing them and yourself up?"
"I diffused the bomb. No one was hurt. I'm here, they're in police custody and I don't think they'll be too anxious to try something like that in Gotham City again. So, what exactly is your problem?"
"You waited until the last possible second before you finally diffused the bomb. You didn't need to do that. You already had the terrorists in custody. You didn't need to play mind games with them. That was just pointlessly cruel."
"No, there was a definite point. They're terrorists, Tim, they thrive on creating fear and panic. I turned the tables on them and gave them a taste of their own terror. As I said, others may think twice before they pick Gotham City as a target if they know that we aren't the frightened sheep they think we are. I fought fire with fire, it's what Bruce would have done and you know it."
Much calmer now, Tim had to admit that Dick was right. It was what Bruce would have done, but maybe that was what was really bothering him.
"But Dick, you're not Bruce. You used to rail at him for doing things like that just as I'm yelling at you now. You're doing things that are against your nature to do."
"Maybe you don't really know my nature," Dick said, slipping the cowl back and running a hand through his black hair.
"Right now, I think I know it better than you do. Look, I know that you're still hurting from losing Bruce, we all hurt too, but you're not dealing with the pain. You just keep swallowing it and burying it further down inside. But you can't keep burying it, you've got to let it out and deal with it. And trying to become Bruce isn't going to help. It's tearing you apart, because you aren't Bruce. You've got to let him go."
"Like you did?" Dick asked quietly. "You certainly seemed to have gotten over his death quickly."
"That's not fair. I do hurt. I miss him too, but he wasn't my father. He was my mentor, a much respected and, yes, loved mentor, but still just a mentor. But you…Dick, you are the brother I never had," the boy had to pause to try to compose himself before he could continue.
"My partnering with Bruce was never really about him, it was about you. The most treasured memories I have of my short crime-fighting career are ones that involve you, not Bruce. Losing him hurts, but I can deal with it. But…I can't lose you. And I can't help feeling like I am losing you. You're becoming more and more reckless and aggressive and I can't help feeling like you're going to self-destruct. And…I don't think I'll be able to deal with that."
Dick was silent for a long time, staring down at the computer console that he was leaning against. When he finally did speak, his voice was a monotone whisper.
"If you feel so strongly that I'm out of control, maybe it would be best if we dissolved this partnership… I think, maybe you should leave."
"What? Dick, no, don't do this. Please don't fire me."
The eyes that looked up at Tim were not the eyes that he was used to seeing. They were not the bright, mischievous blue eyes of Dick Grayson, but the pained, haunted eyes of an old man.
"Get out," he whispered.
Tim just stood staring, unable to move.
"Get out!" Dick yelled.
The boy turned and fled from the cave, pausing only long enough to scoop up his mask from the floor where he had thrown it.
Dick didn't know how long he had been sitting, just staring into space, his mind and body numb. The soft beep from the computer, alerting him of an incoming transmission from Oracle, brought him back to reality. He glanced up as Barbara's face appeared on the large screen before him. She didn't look happy.
"I just spoke with Robin," she said, without preamble. "You fired him? After everything you two have been through, you fired him. I already knew about the stunt you pulled at the stock exchange. Have you completely lost your mind?"
"I did what I thought was best for Robin. I don't want him to be in a situation that he isn't comfortable with. I knew that he would never terminate the partnership himself because he feels a loyalty to me, so I ended it for him."
"You had no right to make that decision for him. He was expressing concern for you. We're all starting to get very concerned about you."
"I'm fine."
"So you keep saying, and yet, everyday you become less and less like yourself and more and more like Batman, not Bruce, Batman. It's like your entire persona is being taken over by that cape and cowl. You're worse than he ever was. My God, Dick, even Huntress was shocked by your aggressiveness… I think maybe you need to step back for a while. Let the others handle things. You need a break. You need sleep."
"Are you through?"
"Wha-? …Yeah, I guess."
"Good night, Oracle."
Dick stood and walked to the back of the computer console where all the connecting cables were located. Without another word he grasped the thick bundle of patchcords and modem wires and yanked them from the computer. All the various screens and machines went black and an eerie, but satisfying silence filled the cave. Of course Dick would need most of these machines up and running again very soon. He would have to sit down and sort through all those cables to figure out which ones went to which machines so that he could have access to his computers while keeping Oracle out, but for now, the silence was liberating.
Alfred paced the length of the large kitchen fretfully. He had seen the small red sensor light, located just to the right of the estate's security system come on, indicating the return of the batmobile. Normally this would have brought feelings of relief, knowing that his young master had returned from his night of fighting crime, but these days the feelings that light invoked were much more mixed. These days Alfred Pennyworth seemed to be in a constant state of anxiety. He worried far more than he used to while his master was away and that worry never seemed to fully abate even after the young man had safely returned. And the worry seemed to be increasing nightly.
"Alfred, please calm down. I don't want to have to start worrying about your health too."
Alfred turned to face the warm smile and beautifully kind face of Leslie Thompkins, the woman he had loved since the day he had met her. On any other night he would find gazing into her endless, dark eyes a delight, but tonight he had to quickly look away. He knew that what they were about to do was necessary, but it still felt very wrong.
On the counter in front of Leslie sat an oriental, black lacquer, serving tray and a simple, white ceramic teapot and teacup. Every night Alfred brought tea to his young master upon his return. The tea was an herbal mixture that was supposed to promote relaxation and induce sleep. So far the effects of the tea on Dick had been negligible. So tonight Leslie had decided to up the ante by liberally lacing the tea with Valium.
"Alfred, it's for the best. You know that," Leslie said, sensing his train of thought.
"Yes, I do know that, but how did it come to this? How did we let things get so far out of hand?"
"We didn't. We can't grieve for him. He has to work through this himself. All we can do is stand by and try to keep him from killing himself or someone else in the process."
"And drugging him is an acceptable means to that end?"
"Yes," she answered firmly. "I think his lack of sleep is affecting his perceptions and his judgment. There are stages that everyone goes through in the grieving process. One of those stages is anger. I think Dick is stuck in the anger stage. Hopefully if he can get some sleep, it will offer him a new perception and he can finally move forward."
"I don't think it will. I think that what's making him angry will still be there when he wakes up."
"You mean that Bruce is dead? He has to accept that some time."
"Oh, I think he has accepted that. The fact that Master Bruce could die was always a possibility, from the time that Master Dick first met him. I think that is something that he has always accepted. I think what Master Dick is unable to accept is the timing of Master Bruce's death."
"What do you mean?"
"As you well know, Master Dick and Master Bruce always had a very rocky relationship. But the past few years they had been able to work things out and, I think, they were much closer than they had been for many years. But for all of that, Master Bruce never did truly acknowledge Master Dick as his equal. He never acknowledged Master Dick's skills, as a fighter or as a detective. And most importantly, he never truly acknowledged Master Dick as his son. Oh, he made the odd praising comment now and again, to be sure, but there was never the straightforward declaration that Master Dick so desperately craved. And now that he's dead, none of that can ever happen."
"My God, Alfred, you may truly be on to something. And if that is the case, I don't know how we can help him. I mean, I know that Bruce loved him. I know that he thought of Dick as his son, but I never once actually heard him say it."
"No, nor me either," Alfred said sadly.
The two sat in silence for a moment. The sound of Dick entering the kitchen drew their attention. They glanced at each other fleetingly, each drawing resolve from the other.
"Ah, Master Dick," Alfred said quickly. "I'm terribly sorry, I have been remiss in my duties. I haven't had a chance to prepare sandwiches for you and Master Timothy."
"That's okay, Alfred, I'm not hungry and Tim already left…He won't be coming back."
Alfred and Leslie stared at each other for a long moment, the doctor's look taking on even more determination.
"Oh, I see," Alfred whispered at last.
"What are you doing here, Leslie?" Dick asked.
"Oh, uh, I just stopped by to drop off some arthritis medication for Alfred," she answered, using the excuse the two had already agreed on.
"I didn't know you had arthritis, Alfred," Dick said. "Are you alright?"
"Oh, yes, it's just a little twinge now and again, nothing to worry about," the butler said, rubbing his knuckles. "Now, here, let me pour you some tea."
He fussed with the tea for a moment then handed the cup over to his young master. Dick accepted the cup gratefully, wrapping his chilled fingers around the warm ceramic. He was about to take a sip, when he became aware that the older couple was watching him intently. He glanced back and forth at them a moment before his eyes rested on Leslie.
"What's in the tea?" he asked.
"Oh, it's just that herbal mixture that you like," Alfred answered quickly. "I just put some honey in it to sweeten it up a bit."
"I was asking her," Dick said quietly. "What's in the tea?"
The older woman returned his steady laser-blue gaze defiantly for moment before she finally dropped her eyes to her lap.
"About 15 milligrams of Valium," she said with a sigh.
He heaved his own heavy sigh, shaking his head in disappointment. He set the cup down on the counter with an audible click, ignoring the hot tea that sloshed onto his hand.
"Good night," he murmured as he left the kitchen.
"Well, that went well," Alfred said dryly.
Dick had left Bruce's office at WayneTech headquarters largely untouched. The only concession he had made in redecorating was to remove the generic modern art paintings, that Bruce had placed on the walls simply to cover them, and replace them with framed circus posterbills.
He sat at the huge mahogany desk, a thick binder filled with pie charts, graphs and lots of numbers open before him. The numbers had ceased to make sense to him hours ago and now he was just trying to absorb all the pretty colors in all the pretty graphs. Gradually his eyes began to close and his head began to sink towards the desk. He jerked awake with a start. It was the third time he had started to fall asleep in the last half hour.
His eyes drifted over to the long, leather couch. It looked so comfortable, so inviting. For a moment he thought he could actually hear it calling to him. Dick, come lay down and close your eyes, just for a few minutes. No one will notice. For a moment he was so tempted to give in to that voice. He gave his head a determined shake.
No, I've got a board meeting in two hours and I can't even finish reading the report. How am I going to stay awake for the entire meeting, Dick thought. Maybe if I have Vicki hook me up to an intravenous coffee drip, I could stay awake.
He was just reaching over to press the call button on the intercom to ask Vicki, his secretary to bring him some coffee, when the intercom beeped at him instead.
Pressing the answer button, he said, "Yes, Vicki?"
"I'm sorry to disturb you Mr. Grayson, but you have some visitors here. I tried to tell them that you were very busy preparing for your board meeting this afternoon, but they have been most insistent on seeing you."
Dick heard some muffled noises over the intercom and a soft gasp. Vicki's cultured tones were abruptly replaced by a loud male voice booming into the speakers.
"Come on, Grayson, it's past noon, you gotta eat some time."
"Roy?" Dick asked.
"Hey, give that man a cigar!"
In the background, Dick heard a familiar female voice. "Roy, stop that, you're embarrassing us!"
"I take it, that's Donna with you?" he asked.
"He's two for two," Roy's cheerful voice continued. "And now for the bonus round. Can you guess who Mystery Guest number three is?"
"Uh, Wally?"
"Oh, he is good! …Dick, Man, can we come in already? If you don't give us the okay soon, I think the babe here is gonna call security. And you know I don't want to have to hurt anybody."
Dick chuckled softly to himself. "It's okay Vicki, they can come in."
"As you wish, Mr. Grayson," Vicki's voice fairly dripped with disapproval.
The door to his office opened and his three friends trooped in, looking very casual. He could see why Vicki had been skeptical about them. She had never seen Dick in anything but a suit and so probably had no idea that he had friends who would dress any differently.
"Dick, we're so sorry about barging in on you like this," Donna said, "but we were in the city and thought we'd see how you were doing. We haven't seen or heard from you since the funeral. And I do apologize for Roy's behavior, I knew I should have put him on a leash before we walked in the building."
For emphasis, she slugged the red-haired archer in the upper arm.
"Ow! Hey, watch it with the super strength there, Wonder Babe, that's my sighting arm," Roy said, rubbing his sore left arm.
"You deserved it. You were acting like a child. Sometimes I worry that you're a bad influence on Lian."
"Hey, it's all part of the Harper charm."
Donna rolled her eyes to the ceiling.
While the two former lovers continued to banter good-naturedly, Wally drifted closer to the desk. When the others entered, Dick had stood and moved around to the front of the desk and was now leaning against it, one leg draped across the nearest corner.
"So, how are you holding up?" Wally asked quietly.
"It's been pretty hectic, but I'm okay."
"You sure? You look like hell."
"Yes, I'm sure. I'm just having a little trouble sleeping these days. Of course the board meeting I've got this afternoon should take care of that."
"Oh, yeah, sounds like a blast. Listen, come buy lunch for us and we'll help you unwind. It'll be good for you. In fact, why don't you just blow off this board meeting and we'll have some real fun."
"Wally, I'd love to, really, but I can't. I've got too much to do. It's not just the board meeting. I've got a thousand other things that need my attention."
"Come on, what could be more important than hanging out with your three oldest friends?" Roy said as he and Donna drifted over to join the conversation. "Friends that you have been severely neglecting of late, by the way. And besides, a guy your age should not be spending all of his time worrying about board meetings. You should be out cruising the bars, looking to get laid, not that that's ever been a problem for you."
"Roy, I have never cruised a bar in my life and I have no intention of starting now. And we all know that I don't spend all of my time worrying about board meetings."
"Yes, that's something else we wanted to talk to you about," Donna said hesitantly. "We think that maybe you should cut back on that a little bit."
"Oh, do we?"
"Dick, not even Bruce went out every single night. Even he took some time off. He went out, he had a social life, even if it was a pretend one."
"Yeah, ever since we got into the city all we've heard is lamenting from the gossip rags about how Gotham's newest Most Eligible Bachelor is a virtual hermit," Roy added. "You know, Grayson, you're drawing more attention to yourself by not living up to their expectations than you would if you did. Somehow, I don't think that's what you intended."
Dick sighed. Roy had a point, one that he hadn't considered. He hadn't noticed that the gossip papers were paying such close attention to his activities, or lack thereof. Hell, he hadn't noticed much of anything that didn't directly involve WayneTech or fighting crime. But to let up now seemed so much like he was letting someone down, although he wasn't quite sure who that someone was.
"Dick, please come to lunch with us," Donna asked. "You look like you've lost weight. You haven't been eating much, have you?"
He couldn't help but smile. He never could hide anything from Donna. He looked up and saw the concern in her clear blue eyes. Glancing at Roy and Wally, he saw her concern mirrored in their eyes as well. But instead of touching a sympathetic chord in him, their concern only irritated him. It told him that like everyone else, they did not think he was capable of handling the job. His smile quickly faded.
"I'm fine," he said coolly.
Noting his abrupt mood change, the other three glanced at each other. They knew him well enough to know that they had somehow entered dangerous territory. They would need to proceed cautiously.
"Honey, look, we're not trying to act like overprotective parents here, but please try to understand that we're concerned about you," Donna said, soothingly.
"And we're not the only ones," Wally spoke up, starting to get impatient with Dick's defensive attitude. "The Oracle contacted Superman at the Watchtower yesterday and-."
"Wait a minute," Dick interrupted, "the Oracle contacted Superman?"
"Oh, Wally…," Donna whined.
"Good one, Dude," Roy whispered dryly, patting the speedster on the back. "Let's get him really pissed off."
"What?" Wally asked, glancing at his two co-conspirators. "Look, I don't know about you two, but I'm getting tired of pussy-footing around. Dick, you're acting like a jerk! You fired Robin, you disconnected the Oracle and now you won't talk to us. Just what the hell is up your ass, Grayson?"
"My father has died and my life has been turned completely upside- down, excuse me if I'm not adjusting quickly enough for you."
"Dick, look, I'm sorry. Okay, that was out of line, but you have got to let someone help you before you kill yourself. You know, Bruce didn't do this job alone. He had help. He-."
"Oh no, don't you dare try to tell me what Bruce did or didn't do. How the hell would you know? And how dare you come into my city and try to tell me what I should or shouldn't do."
"Your city?" Roy said softly. "Doesn't that sound familiar?"
"Don't go there, Harper."
"Dick…," Wally started.
"Get out."
"What?"
"Get out of my office. Get out of my building. And get the hell out of my city."
"Dick, please…," Donna said.
"Get out or I will have security escort you out," Dick whispered dangerously.
"Come on, guys, let's go," Roy said, starting to usher the others toward the door.
Donna hesitated for a moment watching Dick, but he had turned his back and stalked around the desk to resume his seat. He did not look up at her. She turned and followed Roy and Wally out, feeling like a part of her soul had just been carved away.
Dick sat staring unseeing at the binder in front of him long after the soft sounds of their footsteps had receded and the door had clicked shut behind them. Now that his anger had faded, he realized that he had just alienated the last of the people who truly cared about him.
What the hell is the matter with me? Why do I keep doing this, he screamed in his mind. His eyes fell on the picture of he and Bruce that he had found on the desk earlier. Did you really love me, he silently asked the image of his foster father. Did you even care at all? Why couldn't you just tell me?!
A sudden uncontrollable rage flared in him and grabbing the picture he threw it across the room where it smashed against the far wall. Almost immediately the door to his office burst open as his secretary and a security guard rushed inside.
"Mr. Grayson, is everything alright?" the guard asked.
"Get out!" Dick yelled. "Get out and stay out!"
Appreciatively cowed, the man and the woman quickly backed out, closing the door behind them. Alone and suddenly completely exhausted, his head pounding mercilessly, Dick collapsed onto the leather couch.