and Renegade waited for it, his body tired, his mind weary, the bullet wound in his left arm throbbing. A lucky shot from a now dead idiot and he was going to need stitches. Doing that himself was always a bitch and a half.
It was times like these that he really missed Alfred.
Renegade snorted softly. He missed the old man for a lot of reasons, but he couldn't forgive him, either. Alfred was the only person Batman ever really listened to. If he'd pushed hard enough, maybe Dick Grayson would have been able to rest in peace, avenged.
A whisper of a sound drew him from his dark thoughts and he glanced away from the rising sun to the shadows of the compressors behind him.
"You can hide from everyone else, Bats, but not me," he taunted softly.
Batman stepped out of the deep shadows, but Renegade was amused to see he didn't quite make it into the light, either.
"This has to end."
Bouncing lightly on his feet, Renegade grinned at the glower. That never worked on him. Well, not since he was twelve or so. "Wanna be more specific, old man?"
"You killing. Haunting my city."
The grin faded. "Haunting. That's an apt choice of words."
Batman just glowered more. "It stops, Di..."
Fury flashed across the young face and he took three strides across the roof, hands fisted as he interrupted in a hiss, "Don't ever call me that. You lost all rights to call me anything when you let me die and didn't see fit to bring down my killer. You proved how little I meant to you that day, so don't you ever call me anything but Renegade."
"Dick," Batman replied, his voice dripping with ice and his own form of fury.
With a howl, Renegade launched himself at the older and bigger vigilante.
The fight didn't last long. Renegade was quicker, more agile, but Batman was pure power and force. Pinned on his stomach beneath his former guardian, Renegade grunted and struggled and cursed as his right shoulder was nearly dislocated. Finally, panting harshly, he stilled.
"What now?"
Batman's answer surprised him."Now you tell me what you're doing with Robin."
That was the last thing he expected. "...Huh?" A blow to the back of his head sent it ringing and he closed his eyes against the sparks and pain, but he couldn't help the snide retort. "Kid telling tales?"
"He's not saying anything. You will."
Renegade snorted. "If you're little soldier isn't goose-stepping in time anymore, it's nothing to do with me."
"I saw the bruise. It's not the first."
"Which bruise? The one on his face? Or the ones on his knees. He gets those a lot, since he spends so much time on them." His voice rose in a shout of pain as Batman twisted his arm harder behind his back.
"Are you trying to get a rise out of me, Dick?" Again Batman stressed his real name in the hiss that burned the back of his neck.
And he couldn't stop himself. "Does Timmy? He's really good at it, daddy. Did he learn how to suck cock on his knees in the batcave or in your bed?"
The shoulder popped and Renegade bit back a scream, his whole body arching beneath the punishment and weight of the man on top of him.
"Do you really think I'll believe that you're having sex with Robin?"
"Oh, I really do, Bruce. I really do." Renegade felt his former mentor shift, then heard the clink of metal and felt the cuffs around his wrists before Batman rose over him. Turning his head, he glared up at him. "I'll be out of these things in under a minute."
"With a dislocated shoulder? I don't think so." Batman spoke into the communicator on his wrist. "Oracle, call GCPD and tell them I have Renegade in custody on the roof of a warehouse at the northeast corner of Sloan and Elm."
He was already off the roof and swinging for another when Oracle got over her shock and responded.
Batman brooded on the way to the car and home, playing over Dick's comments in his head. He had to be lying, trying to anger Bruce, make him distrust his partner, make him...hurt. Everything Dick did had one of those goals as its aim.
But, if he was lying, why was Tim covering something up? A sexual relationship explained the missing time and his reluctance to discuss it, something that simple fights or even attempts to get Dick to come home wouldn't.
Tim was nearly an adult in years and had been acting as one his whole life. He and Dick had barely known each other before Dick's death. Legally they were brothers, but he had no moral qualms about a relationship between them. Not on those grounds, at least. He had no issues with homosexuality or bisexuality either, and it didn't actually surprise him to think about Tim along those lines.
But, if they were having sex, then why had Dick hit Tim so hard as to leave him with an eye half-swollen shut and a cut eyebrow that probably should have been stitched?
As Bruce roared into the cave and heard Oracle's announcement over his comm that Renegade had escaped before the arrival of the police, the only logical conclusion intruded into his mind.
Rape.
Crossing the bridge from the car to the main section of the cave, Bruce spotted Tim curled asleep on a cot and felt something remarkably gentle flow through him. He was tired and sore from the battle with Dick, and his heart simply ached, but the sight of his youngest son--yes, son--asleep with his head on his folded hands, obviously waiting for him but unable to stay awake, touched something inside him, and he peeled back the cowl before crouching down next to the cot.
Pulling off his gauntlets, he gently brushed two fingers just above the scabbed eyebrow. Tim stirred, grunted and blinked open his eyes, wincing in pain.
"Bruce?"
"You were waiting for me?" He kept any censure out of his quiet voice, wanting the boy to open up.
Tim struggled up, rubbing a hand over his mussed hair, half-yawning and blinking, then he stilled and flushed before looking away. "Yeah. I...uh...we need to talk."
"Down here or upstairs?" Bruce rose as did Tim.
"Here. Now. It's work-related."
As Tim started to walk past him towards the conference table Bruce stopped him with a gentle hand on his shoulder. "It's about Dick. It's family, Tim." The boy's shoulders drooped and then he shrugged off the hand, pulling into himself.
"I guess." They both sat down and Tim fiddled with his hands for a moment before finally digging them into his jeans' pockets and staring at the table top. He knew he had no more than a minute to start talking before Batman lost his patience, but he used every second composing his thoughts. "It started about two months ago. I ran into him and he didn't want to fight. He wanted to talk. I think he hoped I'd switch sides or something. He knew I'd originally figured out your secret because I figured out his, that I'd admired him as both Dick Grayson and Robin. Anyway, I told him I'd never join him. I think...he took it as a challenge."
Tim took a deep breath before continuing, still not looking at Bruce. "We parted without a fight, and then a couple nights later he found me on patrol and he...took me down and..." His throat closed up. He couldn't say this.
The silence grew oppressive.
"Tim, look at me, please," Bruce said, still softly, and surprised at the complete lack of Bat, Tim looked up. What he saw on Bruce's face--concern, even fear--for him--nearly broke him. "What did he do to you, son?"
"He...he..." Helplessly, he shook his head.
"Did he rape you?"
Tim's eyes widened and his mouth dropped open, before he quickly denied, "No. No, Bruce. God no."
Relief flooded Bruce and he let his rigid posture slightly relax. "But you are having sex with him."
Feeling himself blush, the younger man looked away and nodded. "Yeah, but it's consensual, I swear. I mean, I know I'm underage, and he's technically my brother and it's completely twisted, but" Running out of steam, he ran his hands over his face and into his hair, tugging on it in frustration. "I don't know how it happened, Bruce," he finally whispered.
"He's trying to hurt me."
"I know. I'm not stupid, whatever Jay thinks."
Bruce frowned. "Jason obviously knows."
"He's been trying to get me to stop. It's not his fault." Tim finally looked back at his mentor and saw the consternation on his face. "You're freaked."
"Yes."
Sighing, the younger man nodded. "Since the first time he's found me at least once a week and we...well, I fight, not, you know, fight him off or anything, but fight to try to stop him from hurting someone or doing something illegal, and he always wins and...I don't know, maybe I let him, and that's where the bruises come from. I pissed him off last night, two nights ago, and he hit me harder than he usually does, but we still..." Running out of steam, he let his head drop into his hands. "I'm not stupid. I know he doesn't care about me. It's all to hurt you."
"Do you want it to stop, Tim?"
Tim took a long time to answer before the truth finally came to him. "No, but I want it to matter to him."
After a few more minutes of discussion, Bruce sent Tim to bed and made his way up to his own, his mind too tired to process most of what he'd learned and his heart too heavy to deal with it. This situation with Renegade--with Dick--needed to be resolved quickly for the whole family's sake.
It was Saturday and Tim slept in until nearly noon, waking with the feeling that a great burden had been lifted off his shoulders. He felt badly that Bruce now had to share it, but there was relief and a tiny bit of joy that Bruce had taken the news so well. He'd been expecting yelling and had gotten...understanding.
Yawning and scratching his chest through his threadbare t-shirt
Tim wandered into the kitchen and smiled to find Jason sitting at
the island eating a sandwich. While Alfred insisted that breakfast
and dinner always be served in the dining room, over the years he'd
had to accept that young men were both on the run a lot and had
huge appetites that needed sating at all hours of the day and night.
So informal snacks and even lunch could be eaten in the kitchen.
"Hey, Tim."
"Hey. 'Morning Alfred."
"Good Morning, Master Tim. I've made Master Jason a meatloaf sandwich. Would you like one as well?"
"Yes, please." Alfred's meatloaf was manna from heaven, and even better cold between two pieces of crusty bread dripping with catsup. Tim joined his brother at the counter, yawning again. "What are you doing here?"
"Thought I'd come make sure the roof was still on." Jason gave his brother a cryptic look which Tim returned with a shrug and half-smile.
"Everything's okay."
Arching an eyebrow at their guarded conversation--unnecessary because Alfred knew everything that went on in both house and cave, and when he saw Master Dick they were going to have a long talk about propriety and the proper treatment of younger brothers--Alfred placed a plate in front of Tim along with a glass of milk. "If you need anything, just ring. I'll be gathering laundry."
Alfred left and Tim took a big bite of his sandwich.
"You talked to Bruce."
"Uh huh," Tim chewed.
"Did he yell?" Tim shook his head and Jason's eyes widened. "Wow."
"He already knew, or guessed, or something."
"I checked his logs. He ran into Dick after he left me, then he left him for the cops, but Dick got away."
Which they both knew meant that Bruce let him get away. If he'd truly wanted Dick arrested, he'd have waited for the police to arrive.
Both young men mulled that over while they ate, then Tim said softly, "Bruce thought I'd been raped."
"Haven't you?" Jason didn't like discussing this, but it had to be done.
"No! I've told you over and over again, Jay, that I wanted it. I want him. I...think I always have." Tim's voice went from loud and passionate to soft and a bit lost, and he set down his sandwich and placed his head in his hands. "When I figured out who he was, I was just content to worship him from afar, y'know? He was this great guy, the guy everyone wanted to be or be friends with. I followed him from Robin to Nightwing, watched him become such a great leader of the Titans, saw how he came to accept and even care for you despite the problems with Bruce at the time, and then..."
"The Joker."
The elephant in every room. The Joker and what he had done to Dick. Something not to be talked about, even with Dick alive again.
"Jay, since Dick's been back, there's been something really bugging me. I never knew him well, only met him a handful of times, but he was so full of life, so happy. Not just that, he was what a leader should be--mature, intelligent, disciplined and strict but not mean. Not...wild. He was never wild."
Understanding came to Jason and he nodded slowly, then swallowed the last bite of his sandwich. "I was the wild one, the one who would throw caution to the winds and disobey Batman. I was the one who would have been expected to be killed. Dick was the master strategist. I was a brawler."
"You changed, too."
"I had to. Bruce needed me to grow up. Dick's death was a stark revelation of what being impulsive in this business could bring. He was so determined to protect Bruce, he walked right into the trap. I have given this some thought, Tim. What might I have been like if Dick hadn't been killed. I think...probably a lot wilder. Maybe a lot dead."
"I look at him and sometimes I see you and I look at you and almost always see what he was. That's just weird."
Jason shot him a sad smile. "You'd think we really were brothers."
"I guess coming back from the dead will warp someone, and I really do like how you've turned out."
"You, too, squirt."
"Hey!"
They both grinned at each other.
The laughter coming from the kitchen sent both a feeling of joy and a pang of sorrow through Bruce as he hesitated outside the door. Remembering another young voice raised in laughter, he knew his decision to see this quickly resolved was the right one.
How to bring that about was another matter.
Deciding not to interrupt the boys, Bruce headed for his study and found Alfred in the entry hall, putting on his raincoat.
"Ah, Master Bruce. I have a few errands to run." He picked up a bag of clothes to take to the dry cleaner's. "I realize you must portray a playboy to the full extent in order to maintain the necessary facades, but do try to be careful where you splash your red wine. Silk ties do not grow on trees."
Properly chastised, Bruce nodded, "Yes, Alfred," before continuing into his study to plan his attack.
Taking a steadying breath Alfred knocked on the door marked number six in the run-down apartment building in the heart of the East End. Crime Alley was only a block away and he wondered what had possessed the occupant to live here. His nose wrinkled at the odor from the hallway and he started to knock again when he heard locks and chains disengaging.
The door opened and he found himself facing his greatest dream come true.
Sadly, reality had a way of quashing dreams.
"Master Richard, we need to talk."
Dick stared in consternation at the man who'd raised him more than Bruce had, the man who'd been like a grandfather to him, and felt a crack begin in the hard shell over his emotions. He fell back on his standard line, blustering, "No. You could have pushed Bruce to avenge me and you didn't. Go home, Alfred."
"I can't do that." They stared each other down for a minute until Alfred frowned. "You were raised better than to leave a guest standing on the doorstep."
"You're not a guest."
"It's even worse with family."
Dick snarled but stepped back to let Alfred enter. The older man glanced around the messy, shabby apartment and tried not to show his despair at how far the boy had fallen. Shrugging out of his coat, he entered the kitchenette and placed two canvas shopping bags on the lone clear spot on the counter.
"As I doubt you've been eating correctly, I took the liberty of purchasing some of your favorites." As he spoke, he began to unload the bag, finding places in the refrigerator and a cabinet for the food, and trying not to shudder at the lone, greasy pizza box, and half a six pack of beer that, together with a bottle of catsup and a jar of pickles, represented the entire contents of the refrigerator.
"You didn't need to do that."
All Dick got in response to that was a pointed look. Frowning, he leaned against the counter and crossed his arms over his chest. "What do you want Alfred?"
"As I said, to talk to you." After putting on the kettle he'd purchased, he turned to look at the young man and felt his heart constrict with joy and sorrow. "You really are alive."
Dick shifted uncomfortably. "Yeah, look, I'm not stopping what I'm doing and I'm not forgiving Bruce, so..."
"If you insist on hurting your father..."
"He's not my father," came out in a blaze through gritted teeth.
Alfred weathered the storm and measured tea leaves into the teapot he'd brought from home. "The adoption went through a week before your...death."
"Whatever."
"If you insist on hurting him, that's not something I can stop. It's between the two of you. My suggestion is that instead of these childish games and attempts to prove that you're nothing like the man we raised, you go talk to him." His voice grew ice cold. "We raised you better than to become one more killer."
Feeling the harsh bite of censure, Dick actually dropped his eyes to the floor as heat flooded his cheeks. "That man died."
"Bullshit."
Shocked, the younger man stared at the older.
"Do you think your generation came up with every curse word, young man?" The kettle whistle blew and he poured hot water over the tea leaves. "A miracle gave you back to us and I'm tired of you wasting that miracle. But, as I said, that's something you need to discuss with Master Bruce. If you must beat each other up in order to resolve your differences, try not to bleed on the carpets."
Dick simply shook his head in bemusement. "I've talked with him. I can't forgive him. End of story."
"So, is your goal to make him arrest you...or kill you?" There was no answer, and Alfred smiled as Dick fidgeted and looked down at his feet again. "What I'm actually here to discuss with you is Master Tim and your deplorable behavior towards the boy."
The heat returned to his cheeks, as he defensively mumbled, "He's not a boy."
"He is seventeen years old and has worshiped you past your death so much so that all he wanted was to become you. That his worship has a, forgive the bluntness, sexual component, doesn't actually surprise me. That you have played on the child's desire, and hurt him," Alfred's voice took on that icy quality again, "in the process, is unforgivable."
"Jesus, Alfred..."
"Go clear two seats in that mess you call a living room and I shall bring the tea."
Dick went.
A few minutes later he was taking the tea tray--also brought from the manor--and placing it on the recently cleared coffee table. Alfred tsked at the rings on the cheap wood, and placed two coasters next to the tray before pouring the tea and joining Dick on the ratty sofa.
Alfred took a sip from his cup then turned to look Dick in the eye. "What you have with Master Tim will end now."
"No," Dick growled over his teacup.
Alfred cocked an eyebrow and pushed again. "There are other ways to hurt Master Bruce. Simply continuing to kill is enough."
Dick had the grace to look embarrassed again. "Dammit, how come you always make me feel like I'm still twelve years old? I'm not a kid anymore. And regardless of what you think, neither is Tim. He went into this with open eyes, and I'm not giving him up just because you don't like it."
"You sound like you actually care about him."
"Don't psychoanalyze me. He's convenient."
"As are the ladies standing on your street corner...and the gentlemen."
Dick choked on his tea. "It's not like that."
"Either he's simply convenient or he means something to you." Cooly sipping his tea, Alfred watched Dick carefully and restrained himself from smiling at the cracks he was seeing in his composure. The boy was finally thinking.
"Shit."
Having made his point, Alfred set down his empty cup and rose to his feet, smiling slightly as Dick joined him. There were still some good manners bred into the young man. "I suggest a good meal--not the pizza--and thinking very hard over this matter, Master Dick." Picking up his coat, he headed for the door, knowing he was being trailed. "I'll pick up the teapot and tray on my next visit. That will give you time to purchase your own." At the door he turned and leveled one last, hard look at the man he thought of as his eldest grandson. "Oh, and if there are anymore of your bruises on Master Tim, you'll receive the like from me, is that understood?"
"Yes." Another reluctant growl and Alfred nodded and took his leave.
Dick stared at the closed door for a full minute, then flung himself onto the couch to brood.
"Shit."
He stuffed a ginger cookie in his mouth.
"Meddling old man."
And poured more tea.
Tim waited until dinner was nearly done before broaching the subject on his mind. "Um, since we talked about it and I confessed and everything, can I go back on patrol tonight?"
Bruce looked up from his last bite of halibut and met his youngest son's eager eyes. "Yes, with the caveat that if you run into Renegade, you contact me immediately and don't engage him."
Eyes widening, Tim nodded hesitantly. "Um...okay." He took a sip of water to cover the feelings of embarrassment. God, what if Bruce came up on them in the middle of...Gah...
Sitting across from his brother Jason rolled his eyes. "If I run into him can I beat the crap out of him?"
Bruce glowered him into silence.
End Chapter 2
