BATMAN and RED ROBIN

The Legacy of Q

Disclaimer

I don't own the lovely DC characters. They belong to DC and their rightful legal owner. This fic, however, belongs to me.

This fic is dedicated to local Bludhaven YahooGroups superhero Quinlan O' Shea, real name John Wilkinson Jr. and affectionately known as Q.

Q, my friend, thank you for giving yourself so selflessly to others. May your soul find the peace, joy, and comfort that you have given to so many of us here at the Haven. As time heals all wounds and losses, may your loved ones and many friends be comforted with the fact that you're in a better place now. Thank you for teaching us how to find grace in so many ways, even in adversity. The time might have been short, but many thanks for being a good friend and making the Haven a warm and comfortable home for me, too.

And yes, Q... I guess that I have to look at the Urban Dictionary much more often now— all while I recall the many chuckles that you and I have shared because I didn't know any better :)

This fic is also dedicated to my fellow Haven residents. They embody the reason why Q felt at home at the Haven and so do I. I know the lights of the Haven would be dimmer at this point in time due to his passing, but may we all be comforted knowing that our friend's light will continue to shine upon us— all while he's smiling down upon us in His care.

Author's Note

General timeline for this one-shot fic is after the events depicted in Batman and Robin 2009, Issue 16 (Grant Morrison's final issue for the series) and before Issue 17.

In this fanfic, Bruce Wayne is Batman worldwide due to Batman Inc., Dick Grayson is Gotham City's Batman, Damian is Robin, and Tim Drake is Red Robin.

Special Thanks

To Charlene Edwards, one of our lovely moderators at Bludhaven... Thank you for letting me borrow your actual email in honor of our dear Q. Special thanks also go to my fellow Bludhaven members for making the 'Haven a home away from home.

Dick Grayson's Point of View

I was shot in the head by Doctor Hurt just a few days ago. It wasn't part of the plan, but the outcome nonetheless was what Bruce, Damian, and I have wanted and expected. It could have been fatal, but I was lucky. Very lucky...

My family made sure that I stayed lucky. They kept insisting for me to rest during the two months that Leslie had asked…no, ordered me to do.

As to Leslie, she respectively gave Bruce and Alfred a good scolding to make sure that I stayed at home and rest. She knew that since I was a good student, I followed Bruce's example of blatantly ignoring doctor's orders whenever it involved recuperation and bed rest.

Meanwhile, Bruce and Alfred, who didn't need any scolding to begin with, were more than up to the task of keeping me at home as much as possible.

For good measure, Babs called me every now and then and made sure that I heeded everyone's request—including hers—to think about my health and well-being first.

This time, I listened to everyone. Well, I listened as much as I could.

I did stay home for the most part, but made compromises with a frowning Bruce. After the wheeling and dealing between him and me, I was approved for modified duty by the resident commander-in-chief and Leslie. I was allowed to sit behind the Batcomputer along with Alfred so that I could still help out Batman, Robin, and Red Robin. That was much better than the other option—moping around for the next two months either in bed or somewhere else inside the vast manor.

Tim knew that my forced two-month bed rest would drive me insane. On the first night that I was allowed to be on my feet after the incident, he suggested, "Why don't you do something fun, normal, and non-dangerous for a change? Join an online group. Do a blog. Take an online course. Go have a walk at the gardens and get some fresh air. Make friends and chat online. Something like that. Leave the criminals of Gotham to us."

With a raised eyebrow, I told my younger brother in a semi-distasteful manner, "The online extracurricular activities aren't really my thing, and I'm not signing up on Match-dot-com, Bro. It ain't my style."

Tim, who now finished dressing up in his Red Robin uniform minus the cowl, couldn't help but smirk as he leaned against the Batcomputer. "Boy, now I know what you saw in your last rorschach inkblot. Did your shrink ever give you advice on it, Brother dear?"

I leaned against my chair before the Batcomputer, letting out an amused snort. "Harty har har... Very funny, Tim. The computer's okay for work-related matters. But come on—do I really look like someone who can stay put in one place? How could you get to know someone well without the face time?"

My younger brother's smirk became more generous, infectious. It was hard to frown or be serious. "Seriously, Dick... I said make friends, not find a date. Leslie told you to rest. Going out on one date after another wouldn't really do that... And what makes you think that you couldn't get to know someone well online?"

It was nice to see more of the old Tim Drake somewhat back to his old antics now that Bruce had returned to Gotham. I corrected my brother, "I have fun and relaxing times on my dates. What makes you think that I don't?"

Tim crossed his arms over his chest, still having that wry grin on his face when he told me, "Oh, yeah... This coming from the man who mostly dates women with troubled lives, or are trouble themselves."

"No offense meant, Buddy, but you had your share too. Need I enumerate them for you?" I said with a comfortable smile, doing my best not to let that pounding headache bother me let alone make my already-worried brother and family have more reason for concern.

"Fine, fine… You got me there. Again, I said make friends. Perfectly harmless..."

Tim then let out a subtle sigh seconds later. His smile waned slowly but surely while his eyes showed his true feelings. His gaze was deep, soulful. In a quiet yet intent tone, he added, "But seriously, Bro... Slow down, will you? We've all been through hell with Bruce being gone and presumed dead for a while. We all suffered trying to live a life without him. We didn't give up because we needed him. You know that."

"Yeah…"

After a long pause, Tim said as he made eye contact with me, "Gotham and Bludhaven need you. We, your family, need you. You gave all of us...me...a scare."

"Tim..."

"I don't want to lose a father again. I don't want to lose a brother and a friend. No more. I just..." Tim was now teary-eyed. He shook his head as he admitted after that moment's pause, "It's...too much already… Just too much…"

I was more tightlipped when I mumbled, "Tim... Buddy..."

"Please, Dick. Just this once, slow down. Rest. Gotham and the rest of the world will be fine while you rest and get well."

I patted my younger brother's shoulder while I reassured him, "You don't need to worry about me, Tim. I'm here to stay for the long haul."

"You'd never know that. None of us do. How could you say that after what happened to you?"

"I'm your older brother. Believe me when I tell you and Damian that I'll be fine. I won't go in the deep end just as I did a little while back. I'm over and done with those days. And I have no plans in going six feet under. There's too much fight within me to let something like that happen."

As if Tim did not hear what I just said, he murmured, "Just promise me that you'll stick with harmless stuff for two months, okay?"

My younger brother and I fell quiet for a couple minutes. He was scared. Truth be told, so was I.

How could I throw in a witty comeback when I knew through Tim's eyes that he was scared about what just happened to me? He might have been years older than Damian, but he got equally scared. The only difference between Tim and Damian was that Tim had ways of expressing his thoughts and feelings. Damian's emotions and thoughts, on the other hand, were still engaged in a tenuous war between the old viewpoint versus the new—teachings that Talia had inculcated upon him since birth set up against the lessons that he had learned thus far from Alfred, Bruce, Tim, and me.

My two younger brothers got scared. They didn't have to say anything. I could see it in their eyes and movement and hear it in their voices. Hearing Tim voice out his concerns hit me hard in the gut. Seeing Damian give me that quiet look that spoke volumes hurt even more.

Bruce and Alfred, under their respectively calm bravado, braced themselves while they hoped for the best. I remember the look in their eyes all too well.

Babs hid her panic with witty barbs coupled with tall orders that would pale in comparison to what a pissed-off boot camp sergeant would bark at his rookies on an extremely bad day.

Cassandra, who most probably had been first informed by Tim about what happened, contacted me through videoconference. She sent flowers. The flowers came along with a card bearing a handwritten message that said...

Dearest Dick,

We will miss you on patrol.

Get plenty of rest. Get well soon.

Your comrade and sister,

Cassandra

There were many phone calls and visitors for the past three days now...those who knew that Dick Grayson and my alter ego were one and the same. It was good to see and talk to Clark Kent most especially, although I could tell that he hid that nagging concern behind that warm and kind smile of his.

I never realized as to how many people I have known and have been friends with until now. Each visitor and well-wisher said the same thing in so many different ways—"get well soon and take it easy...as in really take it easy."

That would be a lot of people attending my funeral if I ever kicked the bucket for good. Did I really get to bond with that many people? It was something that Bruce mentioned from time to time, especially when he needed my help in rallying the troops or the League come crisis-time, but I never weighed the truth behind those words until now that—

Wait a minute...

No... Can't think that way... I didn't die. I didn't... I won't...

My family, loved ones, and friends were worried. I couldn't just ignore it. I couldn't joke my way out of it.

And hearing Tim just now, telling me what he needed to say at this point in time... How did that make me feel?

Vividly recalling the many close calls that I've had...particularly this most recent one as well as the one wherein I had to claw my way out after being buried alive...fear crept throughout my body. It dug under my skin, pierced through my bones, and settled deep within me. The memory and the feelings associated with those events were such a grim reminder that masked hero or not, I was very much mortal.

I wasn't lying to Tim when I said that I have too much fight within me to just die...to leave everyone behind. Tim and I have seen so many of our comrades die for the worthy cause. They too had so much to offer this world. They too, undoubtedly, had too much fight within them...yet they passed away through mostly violent means and way before their time.

And it hurt so much, nearly tore this family apart, when we thought that Bruce had joined the fallen.

Bruce was back now, very much alive and well. I was so happy to know that Tim was right, yet I still have to reconcile my feelings and those fears within me. Those days made me realize as to how unprepared I was to deal with a death - whether it was a friend or a loved one. The thought even became more unbearable when that dreaded inevitable applied to any of my brothers or sister...and most especially to my fathers.

I fell even more quiet, but something in me had some semblance of peace as I kept repeating the words inside my head, "I live another day. Everything will be fine. They're so worried about me. I shouldn't make them worry."

Tim then mustered a weak smile, doing his best to keep the tears beading at the corner of his eyes from streaming down his cheek. His tone was a near-whisper, his voice almost cracking. "I'll keep in touch throughout the evening...keep you company while you monitor the Batcomputer. Oracle said she'll do the same."

I gave Tim a nod and an empathetic smile. I extended an open hand and told him, "Come here..."

Drawing Tim close to me and giving him a reassuring hug, I whispered in his ear as I did my best to hide my tears, "I'm not going anywhere, Tim. Do you hear me? I don't plan to die anytime soon. It's not part of my plans."

"Give me your word, Dick. Take it easy for two months."

Knowing that it meant a lot to Tim, I said, "I promise that I'll rest for two months. I give you my word. I'm all right. Everything will be all right, okay?"

Tim didn't reply. He simply tightened his embrace, clutching on to my denim jacket. I clung on to him as long as he needed it...needed me... I kissed the top of his head, which was my way of reassuring him and at the same time thanking him for being there for me.

When the two of us mutually withdrew from the hug, Tim smiled, gave me a nod, wore his cowl, and left to patrol another part of Gotham while Batman and Robin were at the city's opposite end.

I couldn't blame Tim. We—especially him—had more than our fair share of people dying around us. Friends, colleagues, strangers who became casualties of our family's war against crime... Donna, Jason, Clark, Hal, Ted, Bruce...just the few of the many people in my life who I grieved for.

I closed my eyes, thinking, "Need to clear my head... Can't think along those lines..."

And so I followed Tim's advice. I surfed the web, did random searches on words that popped inside my head. I just need to clear my thoughts and shake off anything that would start making me think along those lines.

Hours after my conversation with Tim, I found a virtual community named Bludhaven—a Yahoo-based group dedicated to anything that had to do with Nightwing, GothamCity, and Bludhaven. Curiosity got the best of me, and so I requested admission to the group. A couple of hours after my request, I became an official member.

I didn't tell them who I really was. I just wanted to be normal...to blend in...to belong.

At first, I just intended to lurk and see what was out there.

The following hours got easily preoccupied with monitoring the Batcomputer, chatting with Oracle online in-between cases and assignments, chatting with some of the members at Bludhaven, viewing at artwork on the Bludhaven site, and reading these awesome creative works called fanfiction. It was as if this whole new world had opened up for me.

After browsing through the recently-posted message, I chose to give a short response to a message sent by a member named Q. He along with some of the active members had welcomed me with open arms. Shortly thereafter, I got drawn to the community and its engaging members. Each one had his or her quirky sense of humor. The members were warm and friendly, funny, and unique to say the least. Each person had his or her story to tell which defined who he or she was as a person.

As to Q and I, we exchanged emails here and there. Warm and friendly guy, very optimistic, imaginative, creative, and good-hearted... He had cancer, but that didn't bring him down. He did not allow the disease to define who he was. Instead, he focused his energies on making the most of his life day by day. He encouraged everyone in the group...made people laugh...cheered people up just by being who he was.

Borrowing something that Alfie would say, Q had that light inside him. It was bright...calming... I got a reprieve from whatever was going on inside my head and my heart about death. I did fight for my life that moment, but I couldn't imagine fighting for my life against cancer just as Q had been doing all this time. He did it with such grace, humility, and a sense of lighthearted humor. Talking to him, getting to know him, finding out his perspective in life was humbling and enlightening. He, too, had a lot of fight in him. He was a survivor, and yet he dealt with what was given to him so gracefully—far more gracefully than I would have ever done.

It was nice having another family and a whole new set of friends. Albeit it might be online, but it was a place that I could call home just as Q and a good amount of the Bludhaven members did as well.

The days had passed. My family, loved ones, and friends seemed to be more relaxed. Sure, they still worried about me but it was quite different now. The fear and sadness in their eyes seemed to have quelled down, most especially Tim and Damian. In turn, the light of hope that glimmered in their eyes comforted me. I wouldn't be surprised if it had something to do with accepting the fact that I should take it easy for two months. Maybe it had something to do with what I've been doing lately with this two-month hiatus from crime-fighting.

Aside from making friends online and writing some one-shot fanfics, I signed up for two online college courses...something that surprised and made Bruce and Alfred happy at the same time. In between flirting online with her and answering questions about my health, Babs kept teasing me here and there especially when she found out that I picked courses that were part of a pre-law curriculum at GothamUniversity. I loved the classes that I took—a philosophy class called Logic and another class called Introduction to Law.

The days turned into weeks, and then weeks turned into months. The closer that I came to full recovery, the more that I bonded with my online friends particularly Q. As much as I couldn't wait to get well and be back on my feet to fight crime, part of me knew that I'd sorely miss this sense of normalcy that I've been enjoying all this time.

Just when my two-month sabbatical was about to come to a close, I received an email from the group which said...

From: Charlene Edwards
Sent: Tuesday, December 6, 2011 5:55 PM
Subject:BLUDHAVEN in Honor of Q

Bludhaven

It is with an extremely heavy heart that I have to let you all know that our dear sweet friend Q, whose real name was John B. Wilkinson, Jr., passed away today at 3:00 p.m. Central time at his parent's home. He was surrounded by their loving arms and left us all quietly. As we all know, Q has been fighting cancer for a long time and he has done so with great courage, a strong faith, and his own special sense of humor. Despite all he was enduring with his illness, he was a constant presence on this list, in chats, in IM's and a fierce, fierce friend to us all.

I know that I will miss him dearly and I know that many of you will as well. Q has told me many, many times, that while he joined Bludhaven because he was a fan of Nightwing, it was the friendship and real sense of community here that kept him in our little cyber city. He was a great part of that. The lights are dimmer here in the Haven tonight... but there is a special star shining above us all... it's our Q still thinking up the weirdest crossovers known to man, with a "howdy do" or a "how goes it" for us all.

So I will end this, as he ended so many chats with me... Have a good one, Q... God bless and God speed, you take our love with you.

Char

I was tightlipped, speechless for a good amount of time, thinking, "I can't believe it. How could he be gone?"

John B. Wilkinson, Jr., who went by the pen name Quinlan O'Shea and was better known as Q...one of the virtual friends that I've made and learned so much from these past few months...had just passed away. I still couldn't believe it.

"Earth to Dick. Hey, you in there?"

I blinked, being drawn out of my stupor. I looked sideways, seeing Tim as he asked, "You okay? You've been tapping your fingers on the Batcomputer while you're staring blankly at that screen."

"Nothing crime-related... Just stunned...sad..."

Frowning a bit, Tim asked, "What gives?"

"Q... A friend of mine...an online friend...died today..."

Tim was quiet for a couple of minutes, his empathetic gaze resting on me before he said in a quiet tone, "I'm sorry, Dick. How did he die?"

"Cancer. He was battling it for quite some time." I let out a subtle sigh, thinking back on the two months that had transpired. "I never got the chance to tell him that he helped me deal with a lot of things."

A pursed-lipped and curious Tim blinked a bit. "Like what?"

"Death...life...and the things that fall in between the two..."

"I see..."

I couldn't help but get teary-eyed when I told Tim, "He was a cool guy, Tim. You would've loved talking to him. DnD fan. Harry Potter aficionado. Smart guy. He taught me a lot of lingo that I didn't know—he and the rest of the online group..."

A smirk slowly but surely escaped from Tim's lips. "DnD. Look at you. You do know that DnD isn't a military or a police acronym."

"Smart-ass... Can't you come up with a better, more original quip?" was my reply before I laughed along with Tim, shaking my head as well.

"It's about time that you did something more than just the family business." My younger brother's smile became a bit more serious after the chuckles between him and me had died down minutes later. He then told me in a near whisper, "But I did mean what I said—bless him...your friend...for being a good person to you..."

I fell quiet for a while.

Eventually, Tim asked, "Are you going to be okay, Bro?"

I let out a sigh. "Yeah, I will. I never personally met Q, but he and I bonded even if it was a short time."

"A friend's a friend, no matter how you got to know him."

I couldn't help but smile. "You're right. But you know what I've learned from Q and the others?"

Tim blinked a bit, murmuring, "What?"

"That one person's light could make a difference to so many lives...that heroes come in different forms...and that they leave such legacies behind. He was a good guy, Tim. Good people are rare these days, but they're still definitely out there."

"And now he's up there, watching down on all of us," said Tim with a soft smile. "And yes, you just told him what you've learned from him and what you're grateful about since you became friends with him. He just heard you loud and clear."

My tone was serious when I admitted to my younger brother, "I'm not much of a praying man, Tim."

"Neither am I, and I'm also not very good in accepting an inevitability such as death," was Tim's tightlipped admission. He leaned against the Batcomputer, resting his head. "I sometimes wonder if we're committing such a grave sin because we're not regular churchgoers, but don't you think that we have that faith in us? You know...the one that makes us believe that there's Someone out there looking over all of us?"

"I just know that there is. Granted that I should be praying to God more often, but I find the conversations inside my head as a way to talk to Him...make peace with Him..."

A soft, empathetic smile escaped from Tim's lips. "You and I will both pray for your friend Q. He left a good legacy within you. We don't have to be regular churchgoers, or have unshakable faith to let our prayers be heard."

"Thanks, Timmy..."

"And then we can both pray for you and the salvation of your soul."

When I looked up to Tim with such curiosity—not because of what he said but due to the way that he said it, he explained, "I saw what you asked Q in one of your emails, by the way. You're such a noob, Brother. Literally hopeless… You seriously don't know what a spork is?"

Narrowing my eyes and frowning a bit, I replied, "I know what a spork is."

With a chuckle, Tim said, "Yeah, before Q, you knew what a literal spork was...but you really didn't know the figurative, hip meaning of the word, did you? You are sooo going to be helpless without your friend Q being there to explain things to you."

"Tim..."

"Hmmm... I can make Babs' day by telling her that you didn't know what a spork was until two months ago. She'll sure have a good laugh."

"Don't you dare—"

This time, Tim let out a hearty laugh. "Make me."

"Shut up, Tim," I said with a smirk escaping from my lips, reminding myself that my virtual friend Q was now in a far more peaceful place...and maybe at times wanting to playfully smack me at the back of the head so that I could look up words such as spork in the Urban Dictionary.

At least my gut...faith...instinct...whatever you call it or would apply...told me that Q would want to be remembered for the things that made him so alive and much larger than life.

May you rest in peace, Q… Be assured that your memory would always live on with those you have left behind.

End