Author's Note: Published for 3 Nightwing 3 (who can stop eating vegetables now—hope it was worth it) and
anyone else interested. :)
Disclaimer: Still not rich enough to own Batman or anything connected to him.
I'll Try
The rain began to increase. The wet drops seemed to stick to everything around.
Bruce didn't seem to notice too much.
His gaze wandered back to the gravel paved road that wove gently through the cemetery.
Alfred was there with the car.
At the moment, he was fastening the buttons of the boy's coat.
Bruce was amazed to see a thin smile of thanks pass the boy's face.
The boy didn't even have a coat—not a good one anyway or a pair of decent shoes either.
How the boy could even smile was beyond him. Certainly Bruce hadn't smiled the day his parents were laid to rest.
He watched as Alfred stood back up and ushered the boy into the car and out of the rain. The butler gave a brief glace in Bruce's direction before walking
towards him. He at least was smart enough to bring an umbrella.
Bruce shoved his hands into his pockets as he faced the newly dug graves. He wordlessly greeted Alfred.
"Are you quite sure about this?"
Bruce gave a slow sigh at the question. They had been over this before.
"Yes. I'm positive."
"But have you considered it? Truly? The manor hasn't had a child in ages and I myself almost don't remember how it is to be done."
"I'm sure that you will remember." Bruce said softly.
"But have you considered every option? What about him?" Alfred asked pointedly. "Will you continue with him every night?"
Bruce flinched.
"Of course."
"You say that quickly. You didn't think about it." Alfred asserted.
"I have." Bruce insisted.
"Then what is to be done? Is this going to be truly best for this boy?"
"I don't know, all right?" Bruce said giving up. "I don't know what is best for him, but . . . I think this might work out."
"Think? Think? This is a child's life. He will need to go to school, to be played with, he will grow up and . . ."
"I know! . . . I know." Bruce repeated softly after his anger had passed.
"Well you had better be certain soon."
Alfred turned swiftly and returned to the car.
Bruce knew that Alfred had thought he was crazy the first time he had suggested the idea to him. Bringing a boy in?
But Richard . . . Dick, the boy had insisted, needed somewhere to go and for some reason that Bruce couldn't explain the idea had come to him.
Bruce started to turn to walk away, but then he turned back.
"I won't say that this is best for him." He told the headstones softly. "But please know that I will do my best. He . . . seems like a good kid. I don't know much
about kids but he seems really good. I'll try not to do anything to make him a bad kid. You've raised him well so I'll try not to mess him up. I hope this is best for
him. I . . . understand his situation you see so I . . . I'll try."
Bruce fell silent.
He supposed that he had said enough for the moment. He walked slowly back to the car and got in.
The boy—Dick—was sitting there quietly staring at the interior.
"How are you doing?"
The boy didn't say anything, but Bruce understood.
"If you want anything let me know, all right?"
The boy nodded.
"Can I come visit them sometime?"
"Anytime you want." Bruce promised.
Dick nodded as looked out the window as the car pulled away.
"And this is your room." Bruce said as he opened the door.
Dick walked in slowly and looked around.
"It's . . . big."
The way he said it made it sound like that was a bad thing.
"Oh, well, if you want I'm sure that we can find a smaller room . . . maybe. We can change the color if you like." Bruce continued.
The walls were just beige.
"I wasn't sure what you liked."
"It's fine." Dick said after a moment.
"Okay . . ." Bruce tried to think of something else to say. "Do you want to rest for a bit?"
The boy nodded again so Bruce let him be.
The next night, Bruce heard an unfamiliar sound. Small, soft, footsteps coming to his door. There was a short knock.
"Come in." Bruce called out as he buried some files he was looking at under some real work papers.
Dick pushed open the door and came in. He was dressed in his pajamas.
"Aren't you supposed to be in bed?" Bruce asked.
"Yeah." The boy admitted softly. "But can I see my parents?"
Bruce felt the tug on his heart.
"Of course. Go get dressed."
The boy rushed off without another word.
The drive was quiet. It was late and Bruce didn't want to wake Alfred up so he took Dick himself.
Bruce knew the way well, but Dick watched the road carefully at every turn.
The road through the cemetery was dark, but the path was lit brightly by the cars headlights.
The cemetery looked cold and unfriendly, but all the same, Dick climbed out of the car and rushed over to where he knew his parents were.
Bruce stood by the car not wanting to intrude.
The boy sat there for a while and Bruce contented himself by trying to ponder the cases he was working on.
After a half hour Bruce's hands were starting to get cold. That is when it hit him.
Dick wasn't wearing a coat.
He quickly walked over and draped his own over the boy's shoulders. It practically smothered Dick's small frame.
"Alfred is going to have my head if he knew I brought you out here without a coat. Don't tell him okay?"
Dick pulled the coat around himself and nodded.
"We have to go soon." Bruce said quietly. He needed to be out on patrol.
"Can we come back sometime?"
"Of course." Bruce promised.
Dick looked back at the headstones and slowly followed Bruce back to the car.
Dick adjusted slowly over the next few days. He was still slow to talk and didn't eat much.
Bruce tried his best to spend some time with the boy, but he never seemed to know what to do. And Dick didn't want to do much anyway—which Bruce
understood.
He just wanted the boy to be happy.
Nighttime seemed to be the worst for Dick. Bruce would often find him just wandering the halls. He was never looking for anything; he just couldn't sleep.
Bruce didn't know if it was just the new space or if it was bad dreams. Honestly, he was afraid to ask.
So when Dick wandered around the halls again that night, Bruce left the batcave to meet him.
"Hey there. Can I get something for you?"
Dick nodded his head.
"Can I go see my parents?"
Bruce eyed the clock on the wall. He should have enough time to take the boy and go back to work.
"All right. Go get dressed and get a coat."
Dick scampered off and he was soon ready.
Bruce had to stop however and fix the buttons on his coat. He had missed a few.
They slowly drove away and Dick seemed to look back as the large house got smaller in the distance.
"Did you always live there?" Dick asked softly.
Bruce was startled from his thoughts by the boy actually speaking.
"Oh, ah, yes. Yes, I've always lived there."
Dick nodded.
"It's big."
Bruce nodded himself.
Obviously, the boy was still hung up on how big the house was.
The ride there was quick.
Bruce had never been to the cemetery so much in his life.
"Wait till the car stops!" Bruce ordered as he reached over and held the boy's seatbelt down.
The car came to a stop.
"Now you can go."
Dick did so.
He sat by the graves as usual and then seemed to spend a good deal of time looking at the sky.
"You can't see the stars here."
"Oh, do you want to see the stars better?" Bruce offered.
Dick nodded.
They headed back to the car and Bruce drove further out of the city to a place where there were less lights.
Dick waited for the car to come to a stop this time before he got out.
Bruce didn't think he was going to say anything else as he stared at the sky.
"The stars look different here."
Bruce paused to look up from his phone to stare upwards.
He was sure that Dick had seen many different skies throughout his young life so far with all the traveling his family had done.
"What are their names?"
Bruce froze. He really wasn't one for stargazing.
What were their names again?
"Well you have the . . . moon."
The boy nodded slowly and seemed to be waiting for the rest.
"Ah . . ." Bruce scanned the sky looking for something familiar.
Batman spent his nights looking down at the city—not up.
"Well, ah . . . do you want to go back now?"
Bruce made a note to look through an astronomy book sometime.
"I guess."
Bruce walked behind the boy as he made his way to the passenger side. Bruce held the door open and Dick crawled in.
Bruce made his way to the driver's side.
Dick watched him through the windshield and crawled across the seat so as to meet him on the other side.
As he sat up, his hand pressed against the horn.
The blast gave Bruce a shock.
Dick smiled and started to laugh. He pressed the horn a few more times.
Bruce had to laugh too at the boy's expression.
"All right, that's enough." He said as he opened the car door. "Is that fun?"
Dick nodded.
It was the first time Bruce has seen him happy.
An idea came into his head.
"Come on Dick. Let's go home."
Bruce stood back and watched as Dick ran from sports car to sport scar honking the horns on each one of them. They all gave off different sounds which
seemed to amuse the boy.
Bruce had never seen the boy happier since he had come here.
Only one other person in the house wasn't so pleased about this development.
"What is bloody going on here?"
Alfred's voice carried across the multi-car garage causing both man and boy to startle.
"Oh, ah, he thinks it's fun." Bruce explained.
The butler finished tying his robe around his waist.
"He thinks it is fun?" Alfred repeated.
"It's not like we have neighbors." Bruce said in his defense.
"Master Bruce, you cannot let the boy do whatever he wants no matter how much fun he thinks it is. He must go to bed now."
Dick slowly made his way over to both of them and gave Bruce a look.
"All right Dick, you have to go to bed." Bruce was sad to report.
The boy slumped his shoulders.
"Come along now." Alfred planted his hands on the boy's shoulders and guided him off—not before shooting Bruce a look however.
Bruce turned back to all the cars and started to walk around shutting the doors.
A few evenings later, Dick once again found Bruce and asked his usual question.
"Can I go see my parents?"
Bruce found that no matter what the circumstances with Batman was, he could never tell the boy no.
The drive out there was how it always was—silent and quick.
Dick got out as usual, now waiting for the car to come to a complete stop.
Bruce watched him as he walked over to his parent's graves and sat down.
There was an interesting thing about Dick. When he visited his parents he never talked to them, never cried—not that he didn't sniffle loudly a few times. He
seemed content to sit there and look at them.
Bruce sometimes wished that Dick didn't come here so often. He didn't think that it was healthy for the kid.
While he seemed to get no worse, he didn't get much better either.
"Dick, you don't have to come here every day you know." Bruce said walking over to him.
"But I have to."
His answer gave Bruce pause.
"Why?"
"Because I don't want to forget them."
"Why would you forget them?"
Dick turned around to face him. His blue eyes seemed especially large.
"Because I'll grow up."
Bruce was quick to get on his knees next to the boy.
"Dick, you won't forget them just because you'll grow up. I'm . . . I grew up and I still remember mine."
Dick's eyes grew wider.
"You do? Where are they?"
Bruce shifted uncomfortably.
"They're buried on the manor grounds."
"That's nice. That way you can see them whenever you want."
Bruce didn't have much to say to that. He honestly hadn't been to see them in a while. He didn't have to—he still remembered perfectly what had happened.
"Are you sure I won't forget them? I mean, what if I . . ."
"You won't." Bruce promised. "You can never . . . would never forget. Not with how much you loved them. But you need to try to make something good out of it
if you can and not let it . . .okay, well I'm officially a hypocrite." He muttered.
"What a hippocrit?"
"It's a . . . but anyway, you won't forget no matter what and if you still want to come here every day I'll bring you."
Dick nodded softly.
"Bruce? I can always stay with you, right? You won't leave?"
"I won't ever leave you Dick." Bruce promised.
Dick sniffled and seemed to wipe his eyes.
"I'll try to be good for you." Dick said in a simple promise.
"I'm sure you won't have to try hard." Bruce told him. "Your parents raised a good kid."
Dick gave a smile at the comment.
"Thanks."
"And I'll try to be good for you too." Bruce promised. "I'll try."
Random End Notes: This was really short for me, but telling me that this Bruce & Dick story is at least passible will let me know that I am on the right path so
that I can write more.
Alright you know the drill. Advice, and (gentle) [be nice please! :}] criticism, would be appreciated. Or a haiku if you feel like one.