A/N: Sorry this story has not been updated yet. If you read my profile, my computer contracted a nasty virus that had to be taken care of. I had to make sure my files were protected, and my operating system was reinstalled. I am waiting on the word from the Geek Squad at Best Buy when everything has been completed. I just hope I will not have to reinstall software. That will delay me even more. In the mean time, I am enjoying reading everyone else's stories. Please continue reading and leaving reviews.

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The Meeting

By

AJ

Damian Wayne had only been at Wayne Manor for a couple of days. He was exploring the house when he noticed the room that he had been given was far from his father's. He walked down the hall and saw on each of the doors a nameplate. The room closest to his father's had the name Richard. Damian opened the door and discovered there were items in the room belonging to someone. There was a circus poster on the wall, trophies on a shelf, as well as several books. There was a pair of athletic shoes sticking out from under the bedspread. Who was this Richard? 'I should be in this room,' Damian thought jealously. Even so, his curiosity still wondered who was Richard.

'Maybe the room across the hall is vacant," he thought. When Damian moved across the hall, the room on the other side of his Father's room had the name Jason, but the room was locked. Why would Father lock this room? Had something happened to the boy? He would have to ask Father why that room was locked.

The room next to Richard's room also had a nameplate, a boy by the name of Timothy. Who were these children? Had Father had other sons that Damian wasn't aware of? His Mother said he was the only true son of Bruce Wayne. Had his Mother lied to him? Damian's brow furrowed in a familiar scowl. He would have to set her straight on that subject, but mostly he would have to ask his father. Damian remembered seeing the shoes in Richard's room. They didn't look like the shoes of a child. He didn't go into Timothy's room, but he suspected that Timothy would be the same way, older than him by a good many years.

There was a lot more "house" to explore, but Damian had a lot of questions. With his exploration completed for the day, Damian settled down in his father's study. He picked up a book and started reading, waiting for his father to return home. Hours went by and Damian fell asleep. The book that was open on his lap slipped to the floor. He was barely aware of someone picking him up and placing him on a soft bed and sheets and blanks being pulled over him.

"Who is he?" Dick asked as Bruce picked up the sleeping boy.

"He's my son," Bruce said. "You weren't here when he was dropped off by his mother."

"What?" Dick was confused. He thought that Bruce had no children, other than him and Jason, and they were both adopted. Dick thought about that time. Jason had been adopted when Dick was 18 and away at Hudson University. His second year had been his toughest, not because of his classes, but because of being a partnered hero, a college student, and leader of the Teen Titans was taking it's toll. So, that year he gave up being Robin to concentrate on his studies. He couldn't quite give up the Titans so he came up with a new identity. It worked, for the most part. Six months later, Jason became Robin. Dick had watched his exploits, but could see that the boy had problems with authority. Dick thought about challenging his right to wear the moniker because it had been a name his parents had given him, but decided that maybe he really didn't have that right. Batman needed a Robin, and Dick felt maybe he was just too old for the part, and yet he felt somewhat lost without Batman at his side. Jason had only been Robin for three years when the Joker killed him. Then Timothy came along, and he was proving to be just as good being Robin as Dick had been. Not quite the acrobatic type, but skilled in other ways. Dick liked Tim and whatever jealousy he might have felt from Jason, there was none with Tim. Now discovering that Bruce had a son he never knew about, Dick had a lot of questions.

"So, who's his mother?"

"Talia al Ghul," Bruce answered. "Apparently she somehow managed to get my DNA."

"So, he's a clone of some sort?"

"I checked the first day he arrived. He has a mix of her DNA and mine. How he was created, I don't know, but he isn't a clone. He's his own person."

"So how old is he?"

"He's roughly ten years old, from what I can gather."

"Why did she hide that from you?"

"I don't know, but I intend to find out."

/

Dick went down to the cave and saw that Tim was working on a report. He didn't feel like going back to Bludhaven.

"You should be going to bed," Dick said. "You need to get some sleep."

"No more than you do, and someone has to write this report. May as well be me. You going back to Bludhaven?"

"Not tonight. I'm taking a week off from the Bludhaven PD. Officer Grayson has earned it after not taking any time off for two years."

"So, where's Bruce? I though we were supposed to go on patrol tonight."

"Came back from the Wayne Foundation Charity Ball."

"I didn't think you went in for that sort of thing," Tim said.

"I don't normally, but he asked me to come along."

"So, what's he doing?"

"Saying goodnight to . . . his son," Dick said quietly, a pang of jealousy rising in his chest. He knew it was irrational, but he could not help feeling the way that he did. Learning that Bruce had a biological son made him feel like a third wheel; that what Bruce had been teaching him about Wayne Enterprises and the Foundation was now irrelevant. He had an heir and didn't need him. "Maybe you're right. I think I will head back to Bludhaven. I'll need to grab some things."

Dick went into the uniform vault and grabbed his Nightwing gear and placed it in a duffle bag. He then headed up to his room. He hadn't fully unpacked, which he was glad that he hadn't. Maybe it was time to take what he left behind, time to move on. Taking an empty box from the closet, Dick started to pack his trophies when suddenly something hit him from behind. Dick reacted in the only way that he could, he used the wall to his advantage, leapt up with his feet, pushed against it and as he leapt outward flipped over whomever it was that hit him from behind. Dick landed on the other side but didn't expect to suddenly be sliced with a sword.

"OOOWWW! Hey! You're going to hurt someone with that . . . mainly me!"

When he got a good look at the person who attacked him, he realized it was the ten-year-old kid that Bruce introduced him to, or at least showed him. The kid had been asleep when he saw him.

"WHO ARE YOU?" the kid demanded.

"I could ask you the same question," Dick said. He was also aware that the slice to his middle was burning. Could there have been poison on the blade?

Dick suddenly leapt again, coming closer so the kid with the sword could not use it so easily on him. He didn't want to hurt the kid, but being sliced with a sword wasn't his idea of playtime. Dick tried to grab the kid by the wrist and tried to shove him up against the wall to disarm him. Instead the kid leapt aside, surprising Dick. Several books were knocked off a shelf and a lamp came crashing down to the floor. "I don't want to hurt you, but you better put that blade away."

"You hurt me? Your skills cannot match mine," the kid sliced at Dick Grayson again, narrowly missing him. This time Dick's clothes got the worst of it. The only place Dick could go to be out of the reach of the sword was up. Leaping up on the desk and launching himself up into the air, Dick grabbed the chandelier and pulled himself up. He hadn't hung from the fixture since it was a boy. He was lighter then.

"COWARD!" shouted the kid.

"I'm not a coward, I just don't want to get sliced to ribbons," Dick responded. "You're the one with the sword, so why are you trying to kill me?"

"YOU ARE A THIEF!"

"And you're a pint-sized killer," Dick argued. "And this is my room. I'm not a thief!"

Crack!

'Oh no,' Dick looked up to see the chandelier starting to pull away from the ceiling. Plus, he was starting to feel dizzy. 'I was right, there must be poison . . .' Dick didn't finish the thought when the chandelier gave way and crashed to the floor. Even though he did his best to try to leap away, he wasn't fast enough. Dick partially landed on top of the chandelier. Glass flew everywhere. He tried to lift himself off the floor but was kicked back down. He could feel cold steel being pressed against his throat.

"DAMIAN STOP!"

"Bruce . . ." Dick said weakly as Bruce knelt down. "Poison."

Dick blacked out at that moment, slipping into unconsciousness.

Continues with Part 2