Alfred looked up from his dusting as Bruce Wayne strode into the entry hall of the manor, whistling a jaunty tune. "…Sir?" the butler ventured, slightly concerned that the man may have lost his mind since that morning.
"Is Dick awake, Alfred?"
"Yes, Master Wayne. He and Master Jason were down in the cave a short time ago. Master Jason was demonstrating his skills."
"Right to work," Bruce shook his head. "Did they seem to be getting along all right?"
"As I mentioned this morning, sir, Master Dick has rarely met with anyone he couldn't find something to like about."
"And Jason?"
"Master Jason is more difficult to read, but he seemed to be enjoying showing off."
"Good. That's good."
"…I don't wish to pry, sir, but have you achieved any success regarding Master Dick's purpose in Gotham?" Under normal circumstances the Englishman would never have asked such a question, but seeing as how its answer would directly impact the ability of his small family to hold together he allowed himself to make the inquiry.
"Oh, Alfred, you have no idea," Bruce answered with a grand, self-satisfied smile. That was all that the butler needed to hear for a huge weight to lift from his shoulders. Resuming his chore, he had to consciously stop himself from humming the same happy song that had been on Bruce's lips when he entered the house.
The Wayne patriarch found them in the cave, exactly where Alfred had said they were. Glad to see that Dick was monitoring Jason's performance from a chair, he drew up behind him noiselessly, not wanting to break the spell of the moment.
"Hey, Bruce."
"…I didn't think you heard me."
"I didn't have to. Sometimes I have this weird sixth sense for knowing where you are. I think I developed it over all those years of being paranoid when you would go on patrol without me and I would sneak down here after bedtime to practice."
"I usually caught you anyway."
"You did at first, sure." He tilted his head back and stared up at him. "You didn't really think I stopped doing it as I got older, did you? I just got better at knowing when you were coming, and at hiding where you wouldn't find me."
Bruce blinked at him, astounded. "Don't tell Jason about that," he said firmly.
Dick just gave him a quicksilver grin and went back to watching the show. "Nice," he complimented when the boy landed in a roll. "You can tuck tighter than that, though."
"I guess I could, if I wanted to," Jason shrugged noncommittally.
"You'll want to, when there are people shooting at you."
"Yeah, but that will never happen if I never get to go out on patrol." He looked pointedly away from Bruce as he spoke.
Dick didn't answer, knowing it wouldn't help the situation. Bruce's response was far less understanding than his would have been. "Go upstairs and study, or play, or something," the billionaire ordered. "Dick and I need to have a talk."
"What'd you do to get in trouble?" Jason asked, a look of surprise on his face. "You haven't even been here two days!"
"Hey, didn't I tell you I used to be trouble maker numero uno around here?" He joked, but his insides were twisting. He still didn't feel ready to talk about his promotion, and more importantly about his uncertainty as to his role in daylight Gotham, with Bruce. Not while he was still so unsure as to which way he was going to choose.
"Well, yeah, but…"
"Jason," Bruce said in exasperation.
"Maybe later we can start working on one of those 'special moves' you asked about, huh?" Dick cut in, hoping that the promise of more practice soon might be sufficient to make the boy leave before Bruce exploded.
"After dinner?" Jason asked.
"Sure. So long as Bruce gives permission."
"…Bruce?" The blond looked up at him beggingly.
"Not if you don't go upstairs like I told you to."
"Okay, okay, I get it!" He took off, thundering up the stairs and out of sight.
"…You're good with him, Dick," Bruce said when they were alone. He sat down facing his son and gave him a serious look. "We need to talk."
He sighed deeply. "I know. I'm just…afraid of what you're going to say. Of how upset you'll be when I tell you what's going on." He hung his head, unable to meet the older man's gaze.
Bruce rolled his chair up until they were knee-to-knee and reached out to take his hands. "How could I be upset with you for doing so well at your job that you're breaking records left and right?" he asked quietly. "How could you think I would be angry with you for that?"
Dick stared at him. "How do you know about that?" he choked, heat flooding his face. "Did…Alfred didn't tell you, did he?"
"No," he shook his head. "Alfred didn't betray your secret. In fact, I suspect that he lied to my face in order to keep it." He smiled at that, not surprised. He knew from years of experience that when they put their minds to it the duo of Dick and Alfred could be a formidable team, especially when it came to pulling the wool over his eyes. "Commissioner Gordon came to see me this morning in order to congratulate me on the excellent promotion you'd been offered in Bludhaven. Imagine my surprise when he then informed me that you're also receiving two very elite awards for outstanding service."
"Well, I mean, I got put in for them, but that doesn't mean I'll get them," Dick blushed even darker.
"That's not what the Bludhaven Commissioner implied to Gordon."
"…Oh. Um…Wow." Cause that doesn't complicate things even further at all. "Fuck," he whispered without meaning to. "Sorry," he apologized immediately.
Bruce just squeezed his hands. "Adult problems require adult words," he allowed quietly. "So tell me what the problem is, Dick. Explain it to me. I promise, I won't be mad."
"It seems like you already know, more or less."
"Mm. I have a few ideas. But I'd like to know what you think the problem is. I want to know what horrible thing you're dealing with that's so awful you didn't want to tell me about it, when you know you can tell me anything."
Dick sighed, his shoulders slumping in defeat. "I just didn't want to start fighting again, Bruce. It took us so long to get things back to normal, and I just…I just couldn't stand the thought of going another three years without hearing your voice." He broke into sobs as the last few words were spoken, wet trails cascaded down his cheeks.
"Hush," Bruce murmured, one hand rising to wipe the tears from his son's anguished face. "Hush. It's all right. Dick, look at me." He did so, sniffling, eyes almost neon under the excess moisture. "I will never let that kind of time pass without speaking to you again. Not for anything. If they locked you up in Arkham tomorrow, even if it was for some legitimate reason, I would still come to you as often as I could. Do you understand that?"
He hitched in a sharp breath, his eyes widening. "…Really? Even…even there? You'd come?"
"Yes. Until the day I died, Dick." He carded his fingers through dark locks and cupped the side of his face. "Now, please, tell me. Tell me everything."
Slowly, Dick obliged, pouring it all out. His burning desire to run with Batman again, but now as his own man, as Nightwing. His fear that by walking away from the opportunity he'd been offered in Bludhaven he'd be betraying not only that city, but also himself, and the dream of a somewhat normal life that he knew Bruce had always harbored for him. His need to feel useful, to believe that he was making a difference in the lives of others, regardless of whether the sun was up or not. Once he started, the words tumbled out of his mouth, sometimes coming so quickly that he was sure there was no way Bruce could decipher them. And yet the older man seemed to hear every one perfectly, nodding at exactly the right moments and knowing, the instant the last nerve was bared, that what Dick needed more than anything right then was to be pulled over onto his lap and just held.
They stayed like that for a long time, silent, Bruce pushing the chair from side to side with one foot lazily. "I love you so much," he whispered eventually.
"I love you too. I want to be here, Bruce. I do. I just don't know how."
"Well, let's talk about that."
"Okay."
"Tell me what you think of Jason." He knew that wasn't what Dick was most concerned about, but it seemed kinder to start with an easy question.
"I like him. I think he's got some…issues…but I don't think that they're anything that we can't help him work out."
"…You don't feel threatened by him taking over Robin, do you?"
"I did at first, to be honest. I thought maybe, you know, Batman didn't really need Nightwing after all. I was scared when Alfred told me his parents were acrobats, too. It sounds really childish now, but I was afraid that he'd be better than me at the thing I do best. I'm not saying that he isn't good, because he is, but after I watched him today I realized that there are some things he will never be able to match Nightwing at. There are some things he'll never match Batman at, either. His style is more this…this weird amalgam, somewhere between Batman's brute force tactics and Nightwing's hit and go method."
"Liquid motion," Bruce said softly, remembering how those words had crossed his mind the very first time he'd ever laid eyes on the man – then such a small boy – in his arms.
"Yeah. He'll never quite get there. To the untrained eye, sure, he'll appear to be a master of both techniques. I can make brute force look good, but I've got nothing on you in that arena. It's the same the other way; you're pretty damn limber when you want to, but put me next to you doing the same thing and there's no competition. He's stuck somewhere in between. If he sticks with night work and really searches, I think he can find some other way that really fits him – maybe something with blades, he seems to have a thing for knives - but it won't be Batman's way, and it won't be Nightwing's, either. Realizing that he's different, that he's an addition, not a replacement…that really helped."
"No one could replace you, Dick. No one could replace Nightwing, either. Others might be able to fill in when the need is there, but they could never take your place. Not in my heart, and not at Batman's side. Don't you ever let anyone make you think otherwise."
"…Thank you. I needed to hear that."
"You're welcome. So, do you want to help train him?"
"Yes. I really do like him, Bruce."
"You like everyone. That's what Alfred says, at least."
"It's not true, technically, but I'll take the compliment."
"So that takes care of Nightwing's worries."
"More or less. But Nightwing wasn't the biggest problem."
"No, Dick Grayson was. And I think I may have a solution for that."
Dick tilted his head to look up at him. "…Really?"
"I told you I had Commissioner Gordon in my office today."
"Yeah…"
"He was pretty jealous of the Bludhaven Commissioner."
"Yeah?"
"Seemed to think it was a bad deal that Gotham raised you but Bludhaven got all of the adult talent."
"Yeah…?!" He straightened, swallowing heavily as hope blossomed in his chest.
"So I made him a deal. You don't have to take it, of course…"
"What is it?"
"I mean, it's completely up to you, I wouldn't want you to feel unduly pressured by my involvement…"
"What's the deal?"
"You're all grown up now, I'll understand if you want to take the promotion in Bludhaven instead…"
The man was insufferable, toying with him like this, completely unable to conceal his teasing grin as he watched him become more and more agitated. "Bruce, damn it, tell me the deal!"
"…Lieutenant Richard Grayson, Special Investigator, Commissioner's Task Force for Violent Crimes. Effective two weeks from the date of acceptance. And, your Bludhaven record will carry over, so you still get your special citations and credit for time already served." His smile was so broad by the time he finished getting it all out that he thought his lips might crack.
Dick was on his feet, gaping. "No fucking way!" he gasped. "No. Fucking. Way!" he repeated, screaming it the second time before tackling the still-seated Bruce in a monstrous hug. The chair overturned, dumping them unceremoniously onto the cold floor of the cave. Neither one of them noticed; they were too busy laughing, deliriously happy, in each other's arms. "Yes! Yes, yes, oh hell yes!"
"Will that be sufficient to keep Dick Grayson and Nightwing happy in Gotham?"
His answer was another joyful shriek.
"…If I may interrupt, sirs?" Alfred inquired steadily, observing them from the bottom of the stairs. When they had quieted somewhat, clearing their throats in mild embarrassment, he continued. "Assuming that all of the necessary decisions have been made and that Master Dick doesn't require a fresh round of stitches after your little…tussle," he announced, "dinner is served." Then he turned away and headed back for the kitchen, not wanting them to see him swiping at the wetness in his eyes.
Throwing each other glances and giggling, Bruce and Dick stood up and made to follow the butler. "…You didn't hurt yourself, did you?" Bruce asked as they brushed their clothes off.
"No. You were careful, even if you didn't realize it."
"Good."
Just before they left the cave, Dick nudged the other man. "Hey, Bruce, guess what?" he bantered.
"What?"
He gestured back over his shoulder at the chair, still lying on its side. "Now we're even. War's over." He smiled, but it quavered a little under the loaded words.
Bruce pulled him into a rib-cracking embrace for just a moment. "The war to end all wars," he confided before he release him. "Come on. Let's get upstairs before Alfred kills the both of us."
"Think he knows what just happened?" Bruce just looked at him. "Oh, who am I kidding?" Dick laughed at himself. "Alfred knows everything."
With that they trooped up the stairs side by side, leaving the cave in silence.
Author's Note: This may feel like the end, readers, but I have one last trick up my sleeve. Watch for an epilogue chapter tomorrow. Also, I'd like to tip my hat to reader 5-STAR, who picked up on the direction I was heading with Dick's career several chapters ago. Happy reading!
