Author's Note: I wrote this story at the same time as Fathers. I like writing from Dick's point of view. It is difficult not to use some of the more impressive vocabularly associated with Bruce's voice or my own speaking patterns, but I enjoy the challenge. I also enjoy exploring the complexities of being a child in such a strange world as the one Dick inhabits. Rain is an account of a rainy day in the Wayne household, from waking up to going to bed and encapsulates everything that entails. With brevity being one of my favourite intellectual-sounding words, I keep it short and to the point.
More father-son bonding awaits.
Rain
In Gotham, the rain comes down hard. It comes down harder than in London. Harder than Paris. It's even harder than the rain you might find in the tropics. It's hard because it's moving so damn fast, like the sky's in a hurry to be rid of the stuff. There's never a rainbow in Gotham. The only thing that precedes or follows grey clouds in this city are grey skies. Rainy days in Gotham are the worst. I hate them. My parents were killed on a rainy day, buried on one too. I like water, but I hate Gotham's rain. Alfie would probably say it was insufferable so I will too. Bruce never says anything, but I know he feels the same. Rain is gloomy and brings sorrow to those it touches; Bruce must hate the rain too, bad for crime-fighting. Today is a rainy day.
As it's Thursday, I have to do all the usual weekday stuff. I have to get up. I have to go to school; Alfie drives me. He makes me bring a Mac. Earlier I thought he might force rain boots on me too like I'm five or something. He restrains himself. I sit through boring lessons all day. I eat in the cafeteria at lunch and it sucks. Eventually, Alfie picks me up and we go home. It is still freaking raining when we get back. Bruce is not home yet. I am in a bad mood when I go in the gym. Swinging about like a lunatic mellows me out a little, but all I have to do is look out the window and I get wound up all over again. Rain. Endless. Freaking. Rain.
Bruce gets home around five. Today he drove himself in the Porsche. Whereas I looked like a drowned cat when I got through the door, the big man is in exactly the same pristine condition as when he stepped out. Him, his suit and his really expensive Italian shoes are bone-dry. He puts a drenched umbrella in the closet along with his trench coat without saying a word. He doesn't look bitter about the weather like I do. Rain makes me feel and look sour; Bruce is all poker-face. I want to talk to him, tell him how crappy my day was, but he blanks me in the hallway on his way to the library. It really doesn't help improve my attitude. When I chase after him, he's already on his way to the cave via the grandfather clock. I really can't be bothered to follow him anymore. Asshole.
Alfie isn't talking in the kitchen. Apparently the pork loin is way more interesting and important than me. Every time I try to start a conversation, he hits me with "I'm awfully busy, Master Dick. Perhaps another time". Yeah, that's polite British English for "sod off, you annoying little git". So I leave. I go past a window on my upstairs. I really don't feel like looking, but I have to know whether it's over yet. Still. Freaking. Raining.
Bruce still hasn't re-appeared and it's almost dinner. I spent the last hour trying to get the orange side of a Rubik's cube, really productive stuff. I managed two rows and gave up. Now I'm sat at the dining table, dolled up like a girl with product in my hair and moisturiser on my face and aftershave on. I don't know why. When I get bored I do the weirdest things to amuse myself. I wonder if the big guy will even notice. Alfie didn't bat an eyelid. Finally, when the soup and crusty bread rolls are on the table, Bruce makes his entrance.
He hasn't bothered to change clothes for dinner; he's still in his business suit. He sits down opposite me, apologizing for his lateness. It's directed more at Alfie than me. I scowl at him, but he doesn't notice.
"How was school today?" He asks me whilst grabbing a bread roll and his knife. I push my spoon around the bowl. I don't think I'm hungry.
"Fine. How was work?"
"Good thank you. Did you receive any homework assignments?"
"No. Did you?" He looks up from his bread roll. So he is listening; I guess that's something.
"Excuse me?" He says it in such a way that I know he considers my last remark more than a little facetious. I shrug my shoulders.
"You literally ran down to the cave earlier. Did you have a lead on something?"
He doesn't reply. He just stares at me and it's soon obvious he's studying my face for clues. I don't hide anything, not my contempt, not my anger, not my loneliness, nothing. He raises an eyebrow in understanding. "The rain?" He says. He has already decided I am in a bad mood and is quick to deduce the reasoning behind it. Always a detective huh? I just nod my head. He offers me a small, sympathetic smile. "Bad day all round then?" I can't be bothered to make an effort to speak. I nod my head again. He nods his before gesturing to the kitchen. "Alfred has been ignoring you as well, I assume?" I shrug my shoulders. I can't find the energy to nod my head anymore. There is a brief silence. "I'm sorry, Dick." He tells me without breaking eye contact. I can hear the sincerity in his voice, but there is no trace of pity. He knows I hate pity. Now, because I've already taken this immature, spoiled child routine as far as Bruce is going to stand, I finally offer him a proper response.
"I know I shouldn't be acting like this anymore. I should just get on with stuff like an adult. But I really don't like the rain. It brings up so many bad memories. You know?"
"You're still only fourteen, Dick; I don't think there is anything wrong with your behaviour. I understand."
"I just wish I could be more like you. You don't let anything bother you."
"I like you just the way you are."
"Even my moods?"
"Sometimes." I give him a small smile for his efforts. He reaches across the table and places a hand over mine, pretty much making it vanish off the face of the Earth. "After dinner, we'll see what we can do to change your mood." He squeezes my hand gently before going back to his soup. I feel slightly better.
Once dinner is over, we start filling the time. We do a bit of fencing in the gym, some groundwork that just turns into wrestling and some case work. Bruce can be fun when he wants to make me happy. Even though the rain's still coming down outside, it doesn't bother me as much. The big man's talents at misdirection and distraction really grab a guy's attention. Eventually, it gets dark.
Patrol is an interesting affair. I nearly get shot twice and nearly get shanked three times in four hours. The rain is lighter now. I'm still soaked though by the time the GCPD show up on cleaning parade though. My mood nosedives yet again. Tonight we stopped four muggings, two physical assaults and an attempted rape. This city is evil. Maybe the rain ruins everybody's mood. The boss calls it quits at half-eleven and we go home. I got no injuries tonight, a new record. Whoopee.
Once I'm back in civilian clothes and dry, I head back upstairs to the house. I really hate the stupid, damn rain as I get into bed, venting my frustrations on the sheets. I. Hate. The. Rain. Just as I'm about to throttle my pillows for being too soft, there's a knock on my bedroom door.
"Yeah?"
"Still mad, Dick?"
"I hate the rain, Bruce. I HATE the rain."
"I have something out here that may cheer you up."
"Is it a razorblade?"
"Dick…"
I begrudgingly clamber out of bed and unlock the door. The big guy is stood in his dressing gown, holding something under his arm. I point to it. "Chocolates?" He does not appreciate my sarcasm or insinuation. He produces a copy of Alice in Wonderland. I frown before looking at my clock: 0034. "Really? I mean, right now?" He nods.
"That is unless you feel it's too late for a story."
"Aren't you at work tomorrow?"
"When has that ever mattered?"
There's a short silence while I consider. "Will you do all the voices?" I check. He nods in agreement. I consider again. "Can I fall asleep if I want to?" Again he nods. I shrug my shoulders and nod my head. "Okay."
I am loving this. My head is on the big man's side, his arm is around my shoulders and I'm warm under the covers. I feel like I'm six years old again with my dad. Bruce is a better storyteller though. Sorry dad, he just is.
In Gotham, the rain comes down hard. It comes down harder than in London. Harder than Paris. It's even harder than the rain you might find in the tropics. But, at this very moment, I don't care. The rain can come down as hard and as fast as it pleases. I can't hear or see it at all right now. My eyes are closed and all I can hear is Bruce's voice taking me away from Gotham city and the rain. I'm in Wonderland with Alice and her friends, having the best time of my life.
Author's Final Word: Alice in Wonderland is an amazing work of fiction.