Bruce found his eldest exactly where he expected to, high in an old tree at the far edge of the back lawn. Stopping twenty feet below him, he crossed his arms and stared upwards. When there was no response, he spoke. "Alfred says lunch is about ready."

Something that might have been a shrug answered through the foliage. "Not really hungry, to be honest."

The billionaire frowned. "You barely touched breakfast. You need to eat."

"…Maybe later."

On the heels of that non-committal remark came a sigh so heavy that it was a miracle the tree could support its weight. Bruce's concern deepened; it was usual for Dick to scale heights when he needed to do some thinking, and his stomach was always the first thing to rebel when he was wrestling with something deep, but that mournful exhalation he'd just given was too much. "Do I need to come up there, chum?"

"...I dunno, Bruce. It's not a big deal."

"Mm." Right. It's not a big deal, and that's why you sound like someone kicked your puppy. Grimacing, he began to climb. His stomach rumbled as he ascended, but he ignored it. No matter how hungry he was, he wouldn't be able to eat if he knew that Dick was outside moping in a tree. Once he'd reached the branch on which the younger man was perched he swung a leg over it, keeping his back pressed to the trunk so that he could face him. "Talk to me. What's going on?"

"It's just..." He trailed off with another Shakespearean sigh.

There was a glimmer in his hand, and Bruce cocked his head. "What is that?"

"Huh?"

"In your hand. What is it?"

"Oh..." His lower lip trembled for a moment. "...I guess it's nothing, really."

"Can I see it?" he asked, his patience beginning to wear thin. Jesus, Dick, you're never this difficult. What's going on?

"Sure."

He arched an eyebrow the instant he recognized the item that he'd been handed. "Why do you have an engagement ring?" It was a question to which he already knew the answer – the eventual marriage of Nightwing and Oracle was expected by practically everyone who knew them, after all – but it didn't make sense in the context of Dick's obvious depression.

"I still have it because...because she said no." A single tear slipped his cheek as he turned to face the forest again. "And then she said we should see other people."

Only years of practice in self-control kept the billionaire's jaw from dropping. "She broke up with you?"

"...Yeah. She broke up with me."

That certainly explained his son's lack of appetite and thoroughly lovesick mood, he thought as he sidled out to sit beside him. Passing the ring back, he squeezed his shoulder tightly. "I'm sorry, chum."

"Thanks. I just...well, I was just thinking…"

"...Just thinking what?" Bruce urged when he didn't finish the sentence on his own.

"It's just...I read something once, and after last night…well…"

"How does it go?" he pressed.

"It goes, 'if you have too much good luck when you are young, there won't be any luck left for when you are old.'" He paused. "...I think it might be true."

No, you don't, leaped immediately to the end of Bruce's tongue. His boy was hurt and upset, yes, but he knew he didn't believe what he'd just purported to. He bit his opinion back, though, not wanting to add to Dick's pain with a chastisement. "What makes you think that?" he asked instead.

"Well, it makes sense, doesn't it? When I was a kid, how much ridiculous, extraordinary luck did I have?" Raising the hand that wasn't clutching diamonds, he began to tick off a list on his fingers. "First I survived Zucco. Then I got picked up by one of the richest men in the world, who gave me an amazing home and the chance to be Robin. Then I had the team, and everyone else in the League. On top of all of that, I came out of so many close encounters that should have killed me not only alive, but usually victorious."

His hand went limp. "Look at how things have been since. I lost Bludhaven. I lost Jason, and Wally, and Dami. I lost you, for a little while. Now…now I've lost Babs, too. I kept asking myself why, all this time, but I realize now that it's obvious. I used so much good luck as a kid that I just don't have any left." Another heart-rending sigh left his lips. "They really ought to tell you from the get-go that it's a finite commodity, you know?"

"Dick…" Shaking his head, Bruce reached over and pulled him into a one-armed hug. "You're wrong, chum," he whispered. "You're not out of luck because you used it all when you were a boy. Trust me. If that was possible, I would be even more of a poster child for it than you claim to be. Think about it; I was lucky enough to survive my parents, like you were. I was even luckier that I had Alfred afterwards, and that he was as patient and understanding as he was with me. You had luck when you were Robin, but I would counter that with the luck I had when I was training to become Batman. There were plenty of times in those first years and again once I finally hit the streets that I shouldn't have survived, but I did.

"But my luck didn't end there," he went on gently. "In fact, it only got better, because then I got you. Every time you've survived and thrived, Dick, I've been the lucky one, don't you see? I got you, and I got your brothers, and I got to watch all of you grow. Maybe I didn't get to see that for as long as I would have preferred, especially in Jason and Damian's cases, but...it's still far more luck than I ever dreamed I would have.

"And it's ongoing," he insisted. "I still have you, and Tim, and Alfred, and plenty of other things to feel lucky about. My luck didn't run out because I had so much of it when I was young, and neither has yours." He squeezed him. "And if after everything I just said you still feel like you're running low, then take some of mine and do what you need to do with it. So long as it makes you happy again."

A sniffle told him that his words had drawn fresh tears. "…I'm an idiot," Dick moaned after a moment.

"No you're not. You've had a painful experience, that's all, and thinking too hard about it opened up some old wounds. You were looking for an answer, a reason why, and I can't fault you for that even if the conclusion you came to was the incorrect one. I admit that I'm a little surprised that you were so focused on the negative things that have happened over the past few years, since usually you're the one who can always find a silver lining, but that's okay too."

"Sometimes I get so caught up in looking for the silver lining that I forget to deal with the cloud itself," the younger man admitted. "They don't normally all pile on like this, though. Last night…last night just let it all out. I guess maybe I felt like…like things were starting to be okay again. Like if she said yes it would make everything better. I don't know." He gave a wry laugh. "…No wonder she refused. That's pretty screwed up."

"Mm." Somehow Bruce didn't think it was just Dick's demons that had driven Barbara to reject his proposal, but he kept the thought to himself. "What do you suppose the lesson is there?"

"Deal with my garbage and accept it for what it is instead of expecting the woman of my dreams to fix it for me with one word?"

"…That's a little harsher than I think you need to feel about it, but I'd say you've got the general idea." He paused, squeezed him once more, and then retracted his arm. "Give it time, chum. Figure out how to be happy without her, and if you still want to be with her after that then try again."

"Give it time?"

"Give it time. And don't give up; you're the second luckiest person I know, and I don't expect that to change. Understand?"

Dick smiled. "…Yeah. I understand."

"Good. Now that Alfred's probably royally pissed at us for holding up lunch, should we go eat?"

"Lunch sounds…well, not great, but better than it did." His smile grew. "Thanks for the talk, dad. I needed it."

"I know," he nodded. "You're welcome." And thank you, he added in his head. You may be the second luckiest man in the world, but that's only because you've made me the first. For that, son, I can never thank you enough.