DISCLAIMER
: I do not own any of the characters. Nightwing and all of his friends belongs to DC comics. I'd be a happy woman if Dick belonged to me...but no such luck. I have not made any profit out of writing this, so please don't sue me. It would not be worth your while.Author Comment
: This was the third Dick Grayson story I ever wrote. Thank you to my wonderful beta, Jean whose comments force me to examine my writing. There are a number of spelling, grammar and punctuation differences between Australia and the USA... please forgive me for writing with an accent. (g)Special Thanks
: Thank you to all those people who have left such wonderful feedback. Some of you haven't left your e-mail addresses so I haven't been able to thank you. I just want you to know that your kind words mean so much.Dick tossed his motorcycle helmet onto the faded blue couch and switched on the light of his small Bludhaven apartment. Immediately, a voice from across the room greeted him.
"Where the hell have you been? I've been trying to contact you all night." Dick glanced at the computer sitting atop his desk in the corner. Barbara's pretty face filled the screen, her emerald eyes flinty with annoyance.
"Gotham," the young man answered, wearily.
Via the camera zapping video images across the globe, Barbara watched her friend disappear into the kitchen. His movements were slow and lethargic. By the look of it, his trip to Gotham had involved the usual emotional scene.
"You should have kept your communicator on. I can't be expected to..."
"Why didn't you tell me?" the disembodied voice interrupted. There was no sign of anger. It was an empty question that echoed in the untidy apartment.
He reappeared with a can of Coke, his handsome face demanding answers. "Tell you what exactly?" Barbara clarified.
"That there had been an assassination attempt on Bruce's life." Now the anger was evident.
Barbara frowned and adjusted her glasses. "You didn't know? I thought that he would have..."
Dick snorted and slumped onto the couch, his head dropping back and his eyes focusing on the ceiling. "Why the hell would he think to tell me? He had everything under control."
The hollowness of his voice caused Barbara's heart to twist. She hated seeing this and of late, she had been seeing it more and more. "Dick, I..." She didn't know what to say.
Grayson shut his eyes. He'd been in the cafeteria at the Police Academy when he'd spotted the page one headline, 'Gotham Billionaire Stabbed.' A phone call had failed to provide answers and so he'd raced to his bike and sped to the Gotham hospital unsure of what he was going to find. On the radio on the way down he'd heard a news announcement stating that Bruce was in a satisfactory condition. While relieved, he couldn't deny his anger at not being informed.
"Dick, it's his way. You can't let it get to you. Of all people you should be used to Bruce by now." When this failed to evoke a response, Barbara added, "He probably didn't want to disturb you. He knows you've got your hands full with Bludhaven and your cadetship." Still the bundle on the couch didn't move. "Dick?"
"I thought that after I filled in for him for a while things had changed but..." The weeks Dick had worn the cowl in Bruce's place had given him a greater insight into the pressures his former guardian faced in shouldering the mantle of Batman. Following the time, there hadn't actually been a 'thank you', but Bruce had said some of the things Dick had longed to hear. His mind drifted back to that moment in the Batcave...
"Look, this is the part I'm not good at. You reached an age where you couldn't be the Boy Wonder anymore. You outgrew it. A distance grew between us. I left so many things unsaid. I handled it all wrong. But that's the way it always is, isn't it? Between fathers and sons."...
At the time, Dick had been so stunned, words had failed him. It was everything and more than he had hoped to hear come from Bruce's lips, but that was where Dick had made the mistake. It hadn't been Bruce speaking. It had been Batman. While one person, the two personalities were kept separate and Dick had failed to realize which was speaking. Understandable really, considering the fact it was the first time in years either had opened up. Unfortunately, the words only reconciled the relationship between Nightwing and Batman. Batman had indeed come to realize that Nightwing had outgrown being the Boy Wonder and was stating that he was willing to work with the younger man as an equal partner... well, as equal as anyone could be to Batman. However, nothing had changed between Dick Grayson and Bruce Wayne. The distance Bruce had spoken about was still there. Worse still, Bruce didn't approve of Dick's career choice. Rather like Hitler hadn't approved of the Jews. The disagreement had grown and pushed them further apart than ever before.
"Bruce doesn't cope well with change," Barbara whispered, interrupting Grayson's thoughts.
Dick's eyes opened and he dropped his chin to look at the screen across the room. "Huh?"
Barbara smiled. "He's a man. Men don't cope well with change."
Dick's face screwed up with mock disgust. "Please continue, Mrs. Freud."
He had come alive again and Barbara reflected not for the first time, on the fact that he one fine example of the opposite sex. Jet black hair that was never truly tidy these days because Alfred wasn't there to ensure it was combed and brilliant blue eyes which saw everything had melted more than their fair share of female hearts - hers included. "Seriously, Bruce has never coped well with change. Think about it."
"He trusted me more to watch his back when I was eight than he does now," Dick murmured.
"That's not true and you know it. Nightwing and Batman still work together like a well oiled machine. He trusts you implicitly. He has learned to handle Nightwing as his adult partner. What he can't handle is..." Barbara struggled to find the words..."is the fact that the little boy who showed him that there was more to life than seeking revenge nightly, grew up on him."
Dick frowned. A lot of what Barbara was saying he already knew. "I wee bit simplified, don't you think?"
"Maybe, but I think it's close to the mark. He loves you Dick, he just doesn't know how to show you now that you're an adult."
"It's not my fault I grew up, Babs."
"No, but he didn't cope. I, on the other hand, think you grew up very nicely, Short Pants." She flashed him a wide, seductive smile.
Dick winked at her. "Is that an invitation?"
"In your dreams," she laughed.
"You've got that right." Barbara blushed beautifully and Dick laughed. She had lifted his spirits, but then, she had that effect on him... always had. He had loved her from the moment he had laid eyes on her as an eight year old. He accepted it was more than a brother/sister relationship now, but he wasn't sure if she did. She had known of his crush on her when he was a teenager, but exactly where they stood these days was a mystery to him... probably to both of them, he decided.
Dick's mind returned briefly to Bruce. "Babs, can you look into the knife attack for me? If I do, he'll hit the roof. Just find out a bit about it. Lucas said there have been a number of death threats. Find out what it's in relation to and whether his fears are founded."
"Okay."
"I... I just wish Bruce and I could have a normal conversation. Hell, even if it's about football or girls or... I don't know." He rose to his feet. "I've got to get going."
"Hang on a minute," Barbara snapped. Her voice had taken on that quality a teacher's does when they disapprove of something a student is about to undertake.
Dick grinned. "Problem, pretty lady?"
"Let it go tonight."
"Wish I could but.."
"Your mind is so far from being on the job it isn't funny. You can't afford to be distracted out there on your own."
"I'll be fine. I can look after myself." He turned and disappeared into the bedroom, accompanied by Barbara's protests. When he reappeared moments later, he was dressed in his 'evening cloths'. The x suit, which moulded to his body, accentuated his perfectly muscled form.
"Damn it, Dick. You're not in the right mind for this tonight."
"What makes tonight any different? I spend my evenings with the most undesirable people on the planet. Lord knows what a psychiatrist would make of all of that." The quips that had littered his youth had followed him into his adulthood. It was his way of coping.
Barbara cursed. "You're getting more like him every day!"
This caused Dick to pause, his brow furrowing deeply. Such a thought terrified him. "In what way?"
"Nothing is more important than hunting down the next lowlife. The city can't survive without you. Sound familiar?" she spat.
Dick grinned, winked, walked toward the open window and disappeared into the darkness beyond calling, "Night, night, Mom."
"Lord, give me strength!"
In the penthouse apartment of one of Gotham's most exclusive hotels, a man dressed in a flashy red suit surveyed the city below. Once, this had been his city. Once, he had been important here. One man had ruined that and that man was going to pay.
Behind the figure at the window were two very nervous men sweating profusely. They only knew their employer as 'Mr. Smith', though both knew exactly who he was and thus they regarded him with a healthy amount of trepidation. This job had promised wealth beyond their wildest dreams. Unfortunately, the dream was quickly becoming a nightmare.
"I'm sorry, Sir. The assassination attempt failed."
"I do not accept failures." Mr. Smith's voice had a quality all of its own. Strained and yet cultured. He turned and the inhuman rage on his face caused both of his visitors to recoil. "The job was sloppy and amateurish. I am neither. I was informed that you were professionals."
"Of course, Sir. Sorry, Sir." The hired thugs exchanged a concerned look and then watched their employer move across to a wine cabinet and pour himself a drink.
"Have you dealt with the loose end?" Smith demanded, downing the contents.
"He has just been found hanging in his cell."
"Good. And...?" the threat hung in the air.
"We won't miss next time."
"Next time? Who said there was going to be a next time?" Smith asked grinning, his expression flashing with fiendish delight.
"But I thought you wanted Bruce Wayne dead?" A shadowy figure stepped out behind the two thugs. In his hand, he held a revolver. The weapon barked twice in quick succession and the hapless hired assassins took their last breaths.
Mr. Smith shrugged indifferently and returned his attention to the skyline. "I am sure you will not fail me, Mr. MacDonald."
"Wayne will be dead by the end of the week. I stake my life on it."
Mr. Smith glanced back over his shoulder and held his new employee's gaze. "That is exactly what you are doing."
For the second time in less than a week, Dick's motorcycle flashed down the highway to Gotham. The sun was arcing to the west and announcing the arrival of evening.
"Dick, you there?" Oracle's voice burst from the radio.
Grayson smiled. "Fire away, pretty lady."
"I have looked into the death threats Bruce received."
"Took your time."
"You are not the only person I source things for," she pointed out, her voice rising with irritation.
"Yeah, but I'm the cutest."
Barbara made a disgusted sound in the back of her throat. "No, you're the most annoying. It seems Bruce has upset a small group of environmentalist."
"Oh? Bruce is usually fairly environmentally conscious."
"Their claims are rubbish. Wayne Corp. is clearing some land to build a new private hospital. The environmentalists claim that the clearing will destroy a raccoon colony."
"Raccoon?" Dick laughed. "You're kidding."
"No. Bruce launched an investigation and discovered that the only animal life was rats who are feasting on the rubbish that less than civic minded people have dumped there."
"So, what's the problem?"
"The protesters don't believe him."
"And the knife wielding man?" Dick inquired.
"Some emotionally unstable soul. He hung himself in his cell three nights ago. There ends the threat. So, you're headed to Gotham?"
"Yep, I need a book."
"A book?" Barbara sounded surprised.
"I think we've got a copycat killer in the Haven at the moment."
"Go on."
"I think he's following the verses of a poem written by Arthur Wilmington-Randle."
"Never heard of him."
Dick smiled. "I doubt many people have. His work really is trash which is why I haven't been able to locate a copy of his poems - thus my trip to Gotham. If any library in the country will have a copy, the Manor will."
"I could have looked on-line for you."
"I did myself. Came up blank. I'll be in touch."
"You do know that Bruce is holding a function to launch the building of the new hospital at the Manor tonight?"
"Nope, I didn't. He doesn't usually have functions at the Manor any more."
"He didn't want to risk protesters crashing the function. They'll have a hard time breeching the Manor security."
"Okay, thanks for the heads-up, Oracle. Dick out."
© June 2004 Aussie Nightwriter. : This relates only to the creative property in this story. The distinctive way the story unfolds, the specific dialogue and unique situations are mine. I acknowledge that some of the characters and settings belong to DC comics. (g) No infrigement of copyright was intended and no profit has been made from this story... so, please don't sue me. It wouldn't be worth your while.
