Brothers, Portraits, and Messages.

By

AJ

Part 9

"Master Richard, making Timothy feel guilty will not protect him from getting hurt," Alfred chastised

"I wasn't trying to make him feel guilty," Dick said.

"Expressing your fears to him and expecting him not to 'scare you like that again,' is an impossible feat. Even Master Bruce would not resort to that kind of chastising,"

Dick slouched down even further. 'I've been smothering him. Alfred was right,' he thought. "I'm just going to give Tim space until he feels better. I'm just going to leave him alone until he feels better."

"Now Master Richard, do not go overboard in the other direction." Alfred could see Richard's reaction. 'He is either going to be overprotective or not give enough attention. I've seen it with Master Jason and Damian. Master Bruce was the same way with Richard.'

"Then what am I suppose to do?" Dick got up from the breakfast island and started pacing.

"You need to balance your time," Alfred instructed. "Master Damian will feel neglected if you do not spend any time with him, as well as Master Jason. Might I suggest you take Jason on Patrol and Timothy and Damian can spend some time together."

"Jason isn't healed all the way. He's still limping slightly. Maybe I can take him out to lunch or something?"

"That would be acceptable and I understand Master Timothy has promised to spend some time with Damian walking around the Manor."

"That is true."

#

"It's not like I don't like spending time with Dick . . . I do need my space too. I just want him to realize I'm not six years old.

Oh, how's your leg by the way. Everyone's been concentrating on me, and well, you're hurt too."

"Don't worry about me. The leg is getting there." Jason stated, "But thanks for asking."

"Well, that's good to hear. You'll be able to go back to training soon."

"It would be nice...I don't think Bruce will let me use my guns anymore."

"Maybe you can modify them, use something else other than bullets." Tim suggested. 'I don't know if Jason would go for that, but at least he would still be able to use his guns. He seemed pretty upset at not being able to use them. I guess that would be like me not being able to use my wings or my bow staff.'

"I can try," But Jason wasn't convinced.

"You might try tranquilizers . . . rubber bullets . . . or if you have to use bullets . . . shooting them to disarm or if you have to injure. Just don't kill . . . That's what Bruce doesn't like. Giving you options might be what you need."

"I've been killing people. I just can't stop. It's hard for me in hand-to-hand combat also. I'll just end up severely hurting the person, something Bruce dislikes also."

"I know it isn't an easy path to follow . . ."

"You don't know how hard it is." Jason argued back.

"But Jay, it's EASY to kill and once you start, when does it stop? My father was killed by Captain Boomerang. He had a Boomerang sticking out of his chest. I have Bird-a-rangs. I could use them so easily to kill with, but I don't. Making the choice is the hardest thing."

"Out on my own I never had a choice," Jason explained. "Aiming that gun...and then pulling the trigger . . . It was easier then having a choice. Now I'm back here and I'm given choices with fate attached to it."

"Jay here's something else to think about," Tim advised. "You deal with criminals, you are sometimes thought of as a criminal . . . You are also an expert marksman. I've seen what you can do. What if you forget one night and you shoot one of us . . . All I ask is you think about it. I think Alfred has breakfast downstairs waiting for you." Tim watched as Jason got up from the floor and walked back into Tim's room. 'I wanted Jay to think about that for a moment. It has to be his choice on how he will use his guns. I can't do it for him. Right now, both my hip and shoulder were aching. I need some rest.'

Jason sat there for a couple of minutes on Tim's bed. It was easer than going clear back to his room. 'What if I did end up shooting one of them? But I'm excellent at my work. I couldn't...I could...oh forget it...I guess I'm changing to rubber bullets or aiming so I won't kill...this was going to be hard.'

Jason got up from Tim's bed as Tim came into the room. "I think I'm going to get some breakfast." He left the room and went down to the kitchen. Jason gave Dick a nod went he entered. After the discussion he had with Tim, he didn't really feel like talking.

"Aw, Master Jason, have you come for breakfast?"

"Yes, Alfred."

"What would you like? I seem to recall that you always liked a variety of syrups with your Waffles along with walnuts."

"Waffles," Jason perked up. Alfred's waffles could make the world a better place. "That . . . that would be nice."

"I shall get you a plate. Master Richard, are you finished?"

Dick looked down at his plate, his stomach growling. "I'm still eating."

"Very well, Master Richard . . . Perhaps I better go check on Master Damian. He's been asleep for a long time."

Alfred went up to Master Damian's room only to find it empty. He knew he wasn't with Master Timothy or Master Richard, so the most obvious place he could be was in Master Jason's room. He entered the room and threw back the curtains. "Master Damian, you're not going to sleep all day are you?"

Damian wasn't sleeping. His mind was awake, but he didn't want to get out of bed. 'I-I'm...I'm coming to the realization that Dick might not want me since he has Tim. Usually he comes and wakes me up in the morning...but he didn't.'

"Did you forget Master Damian? Master Timothy promised to take a walk around the Manor with you."

"No . . . .I haven't forgotten," Damian said unenthusiastic as he curled into Jason's blankets. "Just wanted to put it off for a bit."

"Hmmm. I believe Master Timothy is in need of some company other than Master Richard for a while."

"-tt- . . . Really?" Damian peeked from under the covers.

"I believe Master Timothy mentioned viewing some paintings while you were lying on the couches in the living room while both of you were ill. It would be a great opportunity for Master Timothy to get some exercise and you can keep an eye on him if he tires."

"Okay . . . I'm getting up," Damian tossed the covers back over his head and stretched. "What Time is it?"

"Nearly Noon," Alfred answered. "You should be in time to have the remains of breakfast." Alfred watched with amusement as Damian rolled out of bed and headed downstairs. He followed Damian to the kitchen. Once seated Alfred place some waffles with fresh strawberries and yogurt in front of Damian. Damian dug in, eating a strawberry first.

Damian was sitting next to Dick. He was so quiet. 'It wasn't like him to not at least speak with me.' Damian questioned. "Grayson?"

"Hey Lil D," Dick said, putting his arm around Damian.

"Would you care for some strawberries for your waffles, Master Damian?"

"Please?"

Alfred took out the strawberries, wash them, then cut up a few more and placed them on Damian's plate. "Let me know when you are finished Master Richard." Alfred could not help notice that Dick was still despondent after their conversation. "Master Richard, please take my advise to heart. You would not want what happened a couple of months ago happening again, if you remember - Master Timothy running away because Master Bruce along with others who shall remain nameless became over protective? Master Damian, more yogurt?"

"No thank you Alfred. Is Tim in his room?" Damian asked as he popped a strawberry in his mouth.

"Yes, Master Damian. Go right on up."

Damian headed up to Tim's room and knocked on his door.

#

Tim was sitting up in his room thinking, and feeling a bit miserable. His eyes fell on the bulletin board and he spied an image that he had not seen before. Obviously someone took the picture, the very same picture that was taken when he was two and a half. This one however, was a close-up of just Dick and him . . . Like brothers . . . Then realizing even more that they are brothers. Tim resolved to talk to Dick later about how he felt. Looking at the pictures reminded Tim that he promised Damian he was going to show him where those paintings are that he saw. Tim got up and sat at his desk to write what he remembered. He heard someone knocking on the door.

"Come in."

"Are you still up for showing me those paintings?" Damian asked. He was getting excited to see them.

"Yeah . . .I'm just making a few notes. They're not in obvious places. The first one we have to go to is on the other side of the Manor."

"Notes about what?"

"About the paintings . . . I learned that Martha Wayne loved the impressionist period of art. She tried to copy them at first, from what I can find. There are a lot of her art books in the library." Tim made a note trying to remember what shelf the book was on. 'It was small, and you wouldn't notice it at first, and that's why it stood out to me.'

'He's going through all of this for me,' Damian thought. "Thanks for doing this Tim. It means a lot."

"Before we go to the other end of the manor we have to go to the library."

"Okay."

Damian walked to the library . . . More like he walked Tim limped. They got to the library within ten minutes, though it usually only took five. Tim was breathless when they got there and starting to sweat. He did my best to ignore it.

"Okay . . . Um . . . Let me think . . . Oh now I remember where I put it." He stuck the small book high on a shelf near the window. He moved over to that shelf and tried to reach it without the use of the library's ladder." " . . . Hugh . . . Owwww . . ." Tim could feel his stitches being pulled along his hip, but he was determined to reach the book. "Hugh . . . Aaaaaa . . . I almost got it." He could feel a sudden wetness but he ignored it.

"Tim, maybe I should get it," Damian stated. "I don't want your stitches to pull." Damian stood next to him just encase Tim lost his balance.

"I . . . Think it's a little late for that . . . If you can get it, it's the small black book without any title."

"Okay," Damian helped Tim to sit down on the library's couch. He moved the latter in place and climbed up to the level of the shelf that Tim had indicated. He was a couple of inches off but Damian was able to reach the book. "Hey, should we have Alfred take a look at your stitches?"

"I'm okay," Tim lied, shaking his head. He didn't want to disappoint Damian now that they were together. "You're going to want to open that book."

Damian sat next to Tim and opened up the book, placing it in the middle so both could examine it. Damian's eyes grew wide and he saw the artwork inside. "Whoa..."

"This is one of Martha Wayne's sketchbooks," Tim explained. "This one tells where the paintings are located in the manor . . . And like I said, they aren't in obvious places. I found this when I was looking for a different book. It sort of fell into my lap." Tim tried to hide the bloodstain that was forming on his jeans.

"These sketches and drawings were . . . so . . . so . . . I'm speechless."

"Bruce has probably forgotten this exists . . . I thought you might be interested," Tim said, wiping away sweat from his forehead.

"Where are the other books? I can grab them while you rest."

"Some of them are over there on the bookshelf near the small fireplace, on the left side." Tim was starting to shake. He didn't know if he could hide it much longer.

Damian was quick to wander over and grab the sketchbooks after verifying them. There was a whole shelf of the books. He took just a couple at a time. Grandma was so talented. In one Damian opened there was a sketch of Father. "Tim look! It's father when he was younger." Damian took the book over to show Tim.

" . . . Really . . . " Sweat was pouring from Tim and he could feel the blood starting down his leg. "Dami . . . I . . . I think you . . . better get Alfred . . . "

Damian looked down to see a large blood stain on Tim's jeans. He rushed from the library. "Al! Al! Tim's bleeding in the library!"

Continues with Part 10