This one is really, really short, and I know you all were expecting some 500 pages for Bruce, but I got the emotions across well (I think).
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Bruce locked himself in his study, not wanting to see anyone. Not wanting to hear anyone. Not wanting, above all, to speak to anyone.
His brain was pounding against the inside of his skull. His stomach was doing flips. His body was wracked with sweat, yet he was freezing cold.
Was this sadness? Was this grief?
He couldn't remember what he had done, had gone through to make the pain go away, when he was eight. All he could remember was that it had hurt. It had hurt so badly. He had starved himself for almost a week, crying until his eyes were dry. He had actually gotten dehydrated, and Alfred had taken him to the hospital where he stayed for another week.
Now, that pain was back with a mighty heat, an unforgiving fury.
In his anger, Bruce stood and knocked over his lamp. It shattered onto the floor, going into a billion pieces.
Like his life.
Richard- Dick- had been his life.
He had been consumed by revenge and anger and grief his whole life, taking it out on the villains of Gotham. He had become the Batman, the World's Greatest Detective, the Dark Knight. He was the shadows, and the shadows were him. He was safest where no one else could see him, the most comfortable where no one could see his... fear.
Fear is the cause of anger.
And that was what was happening to Bruce now.
He was scared.
No, he was terrified.
Yes, you might think 'why on Earth was the Batman terrified?'
Well, as of now, he wasn't Batman. He was Bruce Wayne, the playboy, the world's third richest man alive, the White Knight of Gotham-
A loving, grieving father.
Dick had been an amazing child. Even from a young age, he showed so much potential. He was smarter and braver, stronger physically and mentally and emotionally than any child Bruce had ever met or seen. Even in Dick's terror and depression with his parents' death, he had been strong. He had put on a brave face when he had to, just as Bruce did 24/7. But instead of an all-out smokescreen, Richard had been able to cry. He cried himself to sleep in Bruce's arms many a night- even at thirteen, he had still sneaked into Bruce's room on that night to sleep with him. Of course, Bruce would pretend to still be asleep, though they both knew he wasn't. Richard would force his way under Bruce's arms, and the two would sleep holding onto each other.
It had been like that for six years.
Until now.
Now, Bruce was all alone again.
Sure, he had Alfred, but his son was gone.
His son.
His child.
His heir.
His partner.
His baby bird was gone- dead- forever.
Bruce sat down in his chair, his head still beating and throbbing.
His little light, the ball of fire and joy that kept him from being enveloped by shadows forevermore, was gone.
Richard was dead.
And nothing would bring him back.
Bruce Wayne was now, forever, the Dark Knight, a protector who reigned from the shadows, watching over his city.
Only one thing had changed.
He wouldn't have his baby bird by his side.
Ever. Again.
Okay. So. Yeah.
Don't go emo on me, please, just because this is sad... :*( no matter how much we love Robin, he is fictional... sadly...
So, yeah, the faster you guys review, the faster I'll come out with the last two chapters!
Ending, then, Alternate Ending...