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Disappointed

"Sir? Under the circumstances, might you prefer the brandy to the Merlot this evening?"

"Thank you, no. This is fine. Would you ask him to come in here, please?"

"I'm afraid that the young master went out a few minutes ago. I believe he mentioned going to see some of his friends."

"I see…If you don't mind, please close the door behind you."

Alfred did as he was asked and made his way back down to the kitchen. Things had been, well, subdued would be the best word for how things had been in the manor since Master Dick had made his intentions known. It wasn't a complete surprise, of course, but still it was not what either he or Master Bruce had hoped for. Ah well, the boy was still young, it was possible he'd change his mind. And if he didn't, well then, they'd simply cope with the unexpected hand life had dealt them. In fact it wasn't their decision to make, when all was said and done.

Now if he could just get Bruce to see it that way.

It wasn't what Bruce'd thought would happen, not in a million years. Sure, Dick had hinted around about it but he'd assumed that it was just talk brought on by the expected adjustment period and that, when push came to shove, the boy would make the right decision and do what they all knew was the right thing. He was simply too bright not to and now…dammit. He'd dropped the proverbial bomb at dinner a few nights ago; after the salad and just before Alfred placed the entrees in front of them. Dick calmly, if a bit hesitantly, told Bruce that he'd thought about it since September and he simply didn't like Hudson University. In fact, he decided that he wanted to leave as soon as the semester was over. He'd finish out his commitment for the next few weeks and take the finals but he intended to inform the school that he was withdrawing.

"You want to take a leave of absence?"

"I'm not going back there, it's a waste of my time."

Dick was never shy about expressing his feelings. "I see. Have you applied to wherever it is you want to transfer to?"

"I'm not transferring." Period.

Dick was dropping out 'for now', as he put it.

"…And what exactly is it that you will be doing?"

Dick regarded Bruce, Alfred standing between the two of them, the loaded plates now on the table. "I'm still Robin, I'm still leader of the Titans."

"Full time?"

"Sure, why not? Cops work full time, right? I'm a cop."

"You're a vigilante who works undercover and skirts the law on an almost daily basis. You're also still young and you still have a lot to learn."

"None of which is taught in a classroom and, frankly, I haven't done too badly the last ten years, have I?" Dick took his napkin from his lap and placed it on the table beside his untouched dinner. "I've made up my mind, Bruce, and I'm not going to change it any time soon. I'd like to base here in Gotham but if you don't want that I'll find another city to work from—I don't see a problem with that." He stood to leave, clearly not having an appetite this evening. "And I'm not just a vigilante. I'm fully licensed by Interpol to operate."

"Dick—I don't think that this is the right…"

"I know you don't agree with me. I knew that back in high school so I agreed to give college a try but—Bruce—it's not right for me. C'mon, no one in my family ever went got a degree and they all did just fine. I know I'm smart and we both know there are all kinds of things I can do—it's not like I'll never not be able to find a job, right?"

"But you could…"

"I know what you're going to say, honestly, I do. With a degree all kinds of doors will open to me but let's be real; I'm Bruce Wayne's ward, those doors are going to open if I have a BA or not; we both know that." Dick was ready to end the discussion but paused for a moment. "Look, I know you're disappointed but it really wasn't the right thing for me, Bruce. I'll be fine, you know I will, right?" He suddenly smiled. "And think about all the money you'll save."

Like that mattered.

"I don't understand how he can do something like this to me, Alfred."

"In fact he's done nothing to you, Master Bruce. To paraphrase one of my younger friends, 'this isn't about you', sir."

Bruce was torn between anger, disappointment and a vague sense of his own failure. If only he'd talked to Dick sooner, years ago. If he'd paid more attention, if he'd just sat the kid down and had a conversation with him then maybe this wouldn't be happening.

It wasn't all his own fault, no, but he was the father figure, he could have done something to avoid this—he could have. But he didn't. Frankly, it had never occurred to him that Dick wouldn't want to go to college, that he was just going along with it. The idea that he would hate it, that he'd only last one semester—barely four months—had never entered his mind. Just last week he'd had lunch with Lucius to discuss what would be the best place for Dick to intern next summer, which company would look best on his resume and eventual application to either Harvard or Wharton for his MBA.

Dick was too damn smartnot to go to college, for God's sake.

On the other hand, this was why you're never supposed to assume, right?

Maybe this was just part of that settling in period all the kids went through—Bruce hadn't, no, but everyone else seemed to flounder a bit for a little while. Perhaps when Dick had a few months without the structure school provided, when he saw that all of his friends were tied to an academic calendar and wouldn't be as available as Dick would like, maybe then he'd realize that it wasn't as much fun as he seemed to think it would be.

Another thought struck him; what else had Dick just kind of gone along with through the years because he'd thought it was what Bruce wanted? And why had he done it? Was it because he simply wanted to please him or was it fear of losing his second 'family' after his parents were killed?

Dick almost never complained. Oh, sure, he'd voice his opinions, but he was a good soldier, he always had been. He'd have his say then do what he was told. He toed the line; Bruce depended on that and had since Dick had started working with him. In fact, he'd demanded it and still did.

That was the only way for Batman and Robin to function and stay alive.

But this wasn't business; this was Dick's future beyond the mask.

How could Dick not want to go to college? It was beyond him. Even if he wasn't thrilled with his classes he could always change his major, couldn't he? Lots of kids did that and lot transferred to other schools after the first year; that was common enough. Besides, not every class, just like not everything in life was fun. Sometimes you had to just suck it up and plow through to get whatever benefit was to be gotten from a situation or a boring class.

Dick needed the stimulation college level classes could give him, he needed the social interaction, he needed to be out and on his own. Bruce shook his head and reached for the glass of wine. Jesus, what the hell was he thinking? Robin, Dick, was one of the most responsible people on the planet. He was more mature than most thirty-year-olds. He was more competent than any five people put together.

Dick didn't need college to grow up; he needed college to have a chance to be a normal kid. He needed to make normal friends, go to parties and do the usual stupid things kids did when they were away from home for the first time. That was the kind of thing Dick never experienced. From the time he could walk he was a working professional, first as a circus performer and later as Robin.

But—and this was the thing which bothered Bruce the most—if he'd just paid more attention, if he'd listened or initiated the conversation, maybe this wouldn't be happening. Sure, if the boy wanted to transfer he could go along with it, even support it if Hudson wasn't a good fit for the kid, but to drop out? Bruce felt like he was responsible, like it was somehow his fault. He'd failed Dick, he'd failed to get across to his ward why it mattered, how big a difference it could make in his life; not just now but twenty years down the road.

But the bottom line was that it was Dick's life and Dick's decision. Much as it was the proverbial knife through his heart, Alfred was right; this wasn't really about Bruce.

Draining the last of his wine, Bruce sighed. This wasn't what he'd planned, this wasn't what he though would happen and he knew the fact he'd been blindsided by Dick's decision meant he hadn't paid enough attention.

If he didn't feel so strongly in his gut that Dick was making a serious mistake it would be easier for him to accept it and help Dick get on with whatever he wanted to do now. And he believed, with all his heart, that Dick's mistake—which was how Bruce saw it—was at least partly his own failing as a mentor and father figure.

He'd failed the boy. He'd failed John and Mary Grayson. He'd have to live with that.

He'd never admit it to anyone, of course, but he had.

1/19/08

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