Author's Notes: A bonus chapter for my faithful readers, and a bit of a mea maxima culpa. I submitted the newest chapter of "Spirit Within" to my betareaders on Wednesday of this week, and by this morning, I had not yet gotten a reply. SO, I checked my DocX outbox, and APPARENTLY, ffnet had some sort of a problem (I swear it wasn't me - I even remember the note I sent with the chappie!), and the chapter was never sent! So I sent the new chapter to my readers this morning. : /
I do not want to post it without some eagle eyes looking at it, so I will post it when I get it this week. That means that there is a potential for two chapters of Spirit Within in a seven-day time span!
So, to make up for no chapter of SW today, I give you another chapter of SM.
Enjoy.
And thanks to sunflower13 for betreading all of these!
Blüdhaven
The Next Morning
November 23rd
Dick woke alone in his own bed in his own apartment on the day after Thanksgiving, and had never been more thankful for a day off.
After reluctantly leaving Devon the night before, he had gone home and collapsed in bed, exhausted. Emotional turmoil and hot sex took a lot of energy, and he found that his thigh muscles were sore, although, he reflected, it was probably as a result of the hot sex and not the emotional turmoil.
All in all, he would have preferred to have skipped the first twenty-odd hours of Thanksgiving and gone straight to the sex. He could have happily lived without Jason losing his mind and without Bruce raking him over the coals about Devon.
But he could not pretend that it all hadn't happened. And that there weren't consequences.
He would need to start looking for Jason, even if Jason didn't want him to. After all, families were supposed to be there for each other. That meant that Dick would have to go back to Bruce and get the tracker information so that he could run his brother to ground. He did not look forward to that.
Maybe he could get it from Alfred instead.
The more that he thought on it, the better it sounded. Alfred would never lecture him about a girl, or about his lifestyle decisions.
And Alfred would be sure to have lots of leftovers, as well.
That cinched it. He was going home.
The manor was quiet when Dick let himself in, and he headed for the kitchen first.
The room was empty, so he helped himself to leftovers, choosing to eat them all cold. Cold stuffing was really quite good, and he wondered why more people didn't eat it that way.
He found the pumpkin pie and cut a piece, and sat at the counter eating it.
Damn it! He thought to himself as he chewed. This isn't as good as Devon's grandmother's. It was actually the first time that he had ever tasted anything of Alfred's that wasn't the best in the world.
"Well, hello, Master Dick. How are you this morning?"
Dick turned towards Alfred. "Morning, Alfie. Is it still morning?"
Alfred looked at his watch. "For three more minutes."
"So that makes it almost time for lunch. I could really use a turkey sandwich."
Alfred looked at the food containers strew across the counter. "Looks as though you've already had some turkey."
Dick held his forefinger and thumb about an inch apart. "A little bit."
Alfred gave a slight smile. "And some stuffing. And cranberry. And – pie." He indicated the tin missing a large chunk of pie.
"Yeah. Heh. I was hungry." He looked sheepish.
"I'd be happy to make you a sandwich, Master Dick, you know that." He pulled a loaf of bread from the pantry.
"Thank you. It's really quiet in here today. Where is everyone?"
"Masters Bruce, Timothy, and Damian are training belowstairs." Belowstairs was Alfred-speak for the BatCave.
"Together?" Dick was surprised. Damian did not like to train with anyone other than Bruce or Dick. Training with Tim was huge concession for Damian.
"I believe so."
"Huh. That's – good."
"I thought so."
"And – how are they doing?"
Alfred looked thoughtful. "To be frank, Master Dick, Master Bruce is – uneasy, and rather regretful regarding the events of yesterday."
"Our fight with Jason, or his fight with me?"
"Both, I believe. Add to that Master Timothy's – difficulties, and the contretemps with Master Damian this morning..."
"His whazzit with Damian?"
"Contretemps – it's French for 'disagreement,' Sir."
"Oh. So why did he have a counter-tongue with Damian?"
"No, Sir, contretemps. It's pronounced –" He looked at Dick for a long moment. "Never mind. They argued about Master Bruce's plans."
"Oh, no. I thought that what I said to Damian had made a difference."
"I think that it did, but Master Damian was still upset, apparently, that Master Bruce did not share his secret with him sooner."
"Yeah. I was wondering when that would come up. Did they solve their problem?"
"I believe so. Hot or cold?"
"What?" Dick blinked at the manservant.
"Hot turkey sandwich or cold, Sir?"
"Oh. Hot would be wonderful, Alfred. Thank you."
As Alfred went about making Dick's second wave of lunch, Dick thought that it might be time to broach what was uppermost in his mind. "So – Alfie, gotta ask." He tried to be nonchalant. "You got any leads on Jason?"
"I've been tracking him since he left, Master Richard. He was in one spot overnight, and, although he's on the move now, he's still in Gotham."
"Good. I'll check out his position after lunch."
"Is that a good idea?"
Dick shrugged. "He needs someone, Alfred."
"Shouldn't you discuss it with Master Bruce first?"
Dick shook his head. "Things aren't – good between us right now, Alfred."
"Master Bruce did mention something, Sir – but few details."
Dick shrugged. "I met a girl, Alfie."
"The young lady you mentioned to me a few weeks ago?"
Dick smiled. "Yeah. And she is – incredible. And Bruce doesn't approve."
Alfred's brows rose. "Is that all that was the genesis of the – disagreement, Master Dick?"
Dick blushed. "Maybe not."
Alfred slid a plate with a hot turkey sandwich on it in front of Dick. "Despite what you might think, Master Bruce has nothing but your best interests at heart."
Dick sighed and took the knife and fork that Alfred offered. "I know. But it's my life. And he should trust me enough to allow me to make my own decisions. Hell! They're mostly all decisions I made because of what he taught me."
"It is always very difficult for a parent to let go. Especially of the oldest."
Dick gave a rueful smile, and Alfred continued.
"Master Dick, you must remember that you and Master Bruce grew up together. Much of his growth occurred after you came into his life. And he is, naturally, very protective of you."
"He seems more protective of Batman, to be honest."
"He couches his concern under that mantle; it is true. But his main concern in life is his sons. All of you." At Dick's skeptical look, Alfred gave a slight smile. "You will probably not understand until you have children of your own."
Dick laughed around his sandwich. "In that case, Bruce is going to have to wait a long time for a kindred spirit, Alfred."
Just then, a low alarm began beeping, and Alfred frowned.
"What is it?"
Alfred walked to a cabinet. "It's Master Jason's tracker."
Dick stopped eating. "What about it?"
"I don't know." Alfred opened the cabinet to reveal a high tech command post, complete with several small computer screens, one of which showed a rapidly blinking red light.
Alfred frowned, and turned to Dick. "He has apparently discovered it and destroyed it."
"Can you track where he was when he destroyed it?" Dick wiped his mouth with a napkin.
"I believe so. He was in Gotham. At – Fifth and Court, it appears."
The food that Dick was eating turned into a huge lump in his throat, and he forced himself to swallow it. "Wh – what did you say?" He lowered his fork slowly, hoping he had misheard.
"He was at Fifth and Court."
The diner! Jason was at the diner – with Devon!
"Oh, shit!" Without another word, Dick was gone.
Dick tried to pay attention to the road as he drove to the diner, but his mind was in turmoil.
Jason was with Devon. He was at the diner, and he was close to her, and – who knew what he might do?
In his current state, he might try to hurt her, just to lash out at him – at Dick, who Jason had so long resented.
Devon's involvement with Nightwing – with him, may have brought her into danger.
Damn Bruce! Damn him for being right!
Dick's bluetooth receiver went off, and he answered with an anxious "hello."
"Master Dick, are you all right?"
"Alfred! Yeah. I – am. No, I'm not. Not really." He admitted.
"Is this about Master Jason? His last transmission?"
"Yes. He – he's after Devon, I think." Just saying those words brought bile up into his throat. Jason could be – unpredictable.
"Devon? Is that your young lady?"
Dick squeezed his eyes shut for just a fraction of a second. "Yeah. That's her."
"You don't think that Master Jason would – hurt her, do you?"
"I don't know. Right now, with the way Jason is feeling, I just don't know. I can't take the chance."
"Shall I send Master Bruce?"
"No!" Dick shook his head. "Absolutely not. If Jason is there, the last person he'll want to see is Bruce. No. Let me take care of it." He drew in a deep breath. "I can take care of it." His confident words were as much to convince himself as Alfred.
"You will call for help if you need it, won't you, Master Dick?"
"Yeah. I will, Alfie. But it will probably all be –"
"A tempest in a teapot?"
Dick gave the ghost of a smile. "Yes. Hopefully."
"Take care, Master Dick. Of both yourself and Master Jason."
Dick gave a sad sigh. "I'll try."
"Please update me when you can."
"I will."
He ended the call, and concentrated on what he would do when he got there, should Jason actually be there.
He would try to talk to him first. Of course he would try to talk to him first. He wasn't going to start throwing punches at his own brother without talking first.
And what if he has guns? What if he's already taken Devon?
Shit. He needed to get there - quick. And, if she was okay, he had to talk to her – warn her.
He grabbed his phone and called up her contact, and it connected through the bluetooth speaker.
"Hello?" He heard her voice, normal and wonderful, and some of the tension in his body dissolved.
"Devon? Where are you?" He asked as her boyfriend, as her lover, and did not realize how proprietary the question was.
"Dick?" She sounded confused.
"Yes. Where are you?"
"I – I'm at the diner. Working. Why? What do you want?"
Shit. He had forgotten that she was probably still mad at him for their fight that day he had gone to the diner with Barbara. And that she didn't know that she was sleeping with Dick. Damn it! He would have to do a little explaining.
"Look, my brother. You remember my brother?"
"Yeah." Her voice was curious.
"Is he there?"
"No. Why?"
He said a silent prayer of thanks. "I'm on my way over there now. If you see him, call me back immediately."
"Why? What's going on?"
"Please. Just do it. Okay?"
"Okay. Yeah. Is – everything okay?"
"I'll explain when I get there." If I can explain. "Just stay away from the windows and doors – if you can."
"What? Why?" Now her voice sounded a bit alarmed.
"Just – do it." He said, again, aware that he was being heavy-handed. "I'll explain soon. Please."
"Okay. I – okay."
"Thanks. I'll be there soon." He clicked off and concentrated on staying on the road.
He should never have taken Jason to the diner – never should have revealed his relationship with Devon, never should have revealed that he loved her. But Jason had seemed so – so much like Jason of yesteryear, before all the chaos with the Joker had changed him forever.
Dick found a parking space along the front of the diner, and, after pulling in, he jumped out of the car and looked around. He should do some general reconnaissance before going in. He looked up and around at all the buildings, as well as down the street, and in the alley, checking the back door to the diner to make certain that it was locked, and looking up at Devon's window to make sure that it was closed.
He came back around the front of the building, and his text alert sounded. He pulled the phone from his pocket and swiped the screen.
Can't keep away from her, can you, Dickie?
It was Jason. He was watching! He was nearby!
Dick looked around at the buildings again. No window appeared open, and none appeared broken.
Dick texted him.
Come talk to me, bro. Please.
Maybe we can share a piece of pumpkin pie. It was really tasty, wasn't it?
Dick froze for a moment as the implication sunk in. Jason had been there the night before, when Dick had been with Devon. He had seen them – he had watched them. Oh, God. He had watched them together in her room.
Dick ran his hand across the bottom half of his face, and surveyed his surroundings once more, but still saw no sign of Jason.
He decided to text him again.
Please leave her out of this. She has nothing to do with what's going on with you.
Afraid I might jinx your charmed life?
Come on, Jase. If you're pissed at me or Bruce, take it out on US, not on other people.
The response was long in coming.
No more tracking devices.
That was an easy promise to make.
No. No more. I promise.
Then she's safe. Leave me alone, and she's safe.
Relief came over Dick so much that it was almost physically palpable.
Thank you.
There was no response, and, when Dick put the phone back in his pocket, it did not escape his notice that his hands were trembling.
Devon listened to the tone that meant that the call had ended, and looked at her phone speculatively. What was going on with Dick and his brother? Why had he called her? She and Dick weren't – involved, after all, and she had only met his brother that one, brief time.
So why was he calling her, and why was he coming here?
Lunch was winding down, and she was nearly done with her shift, and she hoped that he would come before they closed the diner. And before her grandmother came downstairs. She didn't want any awkward questions from the older woman, or reminders that she really shouldn't have a boyfriend – as if that was what Dick was.
Devon cleared several empty tables and continued taking care of customers until Dick entered the restaurant, about a half hour after he called. He stood there watching her with his hands in his pockets, looking so kicked in the teeth and disconsolate that she felt an almost overpowering need to console him with a kiss.
What the hell, Devon? Again? What is wrong with you? She asked herself. You have an amazing man, and you still can't think of anything but making out with Dick Grayson every time he walks in the door? Even though Dick might be spying on you and talking about you to his friends?! Well, we are going to talk about that, that's for sure!
She shook the thoughts from her head and came over to him.
He smiled at her uncertainly. "Hey, Devon. Thanks – for seeing me."
His downtrodden look chased the idea of lecturing him from her mind, and she impulsively squeezed his forearm. "You want to sit down?"
He glanced around at the half-empty diner. "If you're not too busy."
She shook her head. "No. Not at all. Come on." She led him to an empty booth far from the other patrons, and he slid in. "Can I get you anything? Coffee? A piece of pie? My grandmother makes the best pumpkin pie in the city."
He shook his head. "Yeah, I know, but no – thanks."
She frowned, confused, but he continued, extending a hand to her, although he did not touch her.
"Can – can you sit for a couple of minutes?" He asked.
She glanced around. No one seemed to need her. "Sure." She took the bench opposite him, and he absently took her hand, his fingers wrapping gently around her wrist.
"Wh – what happened?" She tried to ignore the tingling where he was touching her, and tried to drag her eyes from the sight of his skin on hers.
"It's my brother, Jason. We had a – blow-up yesterday at dinner."
"What kind of a blow-up?" Concern etched her face.
He shrugged, and watched as he traced a pattern on the back of her hand. "The kind where someone says some uncomfortable truths that you just don't want to hear."
"Oh. I'm – sorry." She drew her mouth down. "Is there – anything I can do?" It was hard for her to concentrate while he was touching her.
He shook his head.
"Why do you think he might come here?"
"He – might come here. He knows about – us."
"Oh." She said again. "But what do you mean that he knows about – us? I mean, it's not like..."
He flushed red, and withdrew his hand suddenly, placing both in his lap. "No. You're right. I guess I should say that – he knows how I feel about you."
"Oh." She said it a third time, and hated herself for her lack of eloquence. But what could she say to him? He was confessing, again, that he felt something for her, and she was speechless about that. Instead, she zoned on what she could say to him. "Is – is he dangerous?"
He was long in answering. "I – don't think so."
"If he comes – here, should I call the police?"
"No!" He answered sharply, then sighed. "No. If he comes here, just call me. Really. Any time. It doesn't matter – even if it's the middle of the night."
She was skeptical now. "Are you sure this isn't just..."
He must have understood what she meant, because his face reddened. "No. Is that what you think of me? That I would make this up just to get close to you?"
She was suddenly ashamed of herself. "No. No. Of course not. I'm sorry. I didn't mean that." She pinched the bridge of her nose. "I don't know why I said that. I'll call you – of course I'll call you."
"Just make sure you keep things – locked."
She felt a cold fear grip her stomach. "Dick, you're – scaring me."
He looked at her, his blue eyes astonished. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to. He's not dangerous – not really. Just – to himself, I think."
She felt heartsick for him. "I'll call. Really. I will. If I see him."
"Thanks." He smiled at her weakly, and her heart lurched. Oh, God, don't start that again. You are not falling for him – even more!
She decided to distract him. "Can I get you something? Look, let me get you a slice of pie or coffee – on the house." She started to get up, but he followed her lead.
"Thanks, Devon, but I really – have to go. But, thanks – again. Take care. Please." With one last smile, he turned and left, and she was left staring after him, wondering how she could convince him to stay. And realizing that she had not talked to him about what Wally had said.
Dick called Bruce the moment he got back into the car. "I need to talk to you about Jason. But just about Jason."
"Is that your subtle way of telling me that your private life is off-limits?"
"I'll be there in less than thirty." He ended the conversation and ran through, in his mind, solutions to the problem of Jason.
He shook his head. He couldn't believe that they were going through this again – that Jason was so bad again. Not bad, as in evil, but bad, as in a bad place.
Dick had always hoped for happiness and peace for his younger brother, and it seemed that it was eluding Jason – again.
They could not call in anyone else for help – there was no one who could help them, anyway. A fallen Bat was their problem – no one else's. No one else was qualified or entitled to get involved.
It was a family matter.
Dick found Bruce in the Batcave, sitting at the computer. He stopped behind his father, and, although he remained silent, he was certain that Bruce could see his reflection on the computer screen.
"Did Alfred tell you?" Dick asked.
Bruce continued typing. "That Jason went after your girlfriend? That he destroyed his tracker? Yes."
Dick sighed. "He texted me."
Bruce's fingers stilled. "What did he say?"
"He was watching me last night."
"When?"
"When I was with Devon."
"Oh." Bruce's voice was flat. "What else did he say?"
"He told me – us – to leave him alone. Or he'd go after her."
Bruce was silent, but "I told you so" screamed through the room. "You should break it off with her."
"No. Not an option. Next."
Bruce swiveled in his chair to look at his son. "Dick, you're being very stubborn about this."
"Wonder where I learned that?"
Bruce sighed. "Fine. Do what you like. How are you going to protect her?"
He shrugged. "Alarms would be best. Outside her windows. On the doors."
"And how are you going to accomplish that without her knowing? And her grandmother?"
Dick's brows rose. Bruce knew about her grandmother. "You do quick work."
Bruce shrugged. "She's in your life. I need to find out everything I can about her."
Dick crossed his arms on his chest and leaned against the console. "So what did you find out?"
"Probably no more than you."
"I doubt that." He snorted.
Bruce looked almost guilty. "Well, you're probably right." He turned back to his computer. "The diner's insurance company offers a substantial discount if buildings are equipped with alarms."
Dick almost smiled. "So, let me guess. Wayne Enterprises has a controlling share in this insurance company."
"It will by Monday."
Dick had to grin, although he tried to hide it by looking down at his folded arms. "So their insurance company is going to demand that they install an alarm?"
"On the contrary. Their insurance company is going to facilitate an alarm installation. Installers will be out there Tuesday. Can you keep them safe until Tuesday?" He gave Dick a challenging look.
"Oh, I think I can keep an eye out." He pushed off the console. "Thank you, Bruce."
"What are fathers for?"
"Exactly this, I think. On a slightly smaller scale. Now what are we going to do about Jason?"
"We'll keep tabs on him as best we can without a tracker. It will be harder, of course, but not impossible. We already know his habits, and I don't think that he is going to change them just to stymie us."
"Do you think he'll – do anything?"
"I don't know. We should be vigilant. Not let our guard down. Other than that," he shook his head, "we'll just have to wait for him to cool off."
"That could take a while."
Bruce's lips compressed. "Yes. Knowing Jason, that could take a long while."
Gotham City
That Night
November 23rd
To be honest, Dick did not find it a burden to keep watch on Devon. He simply showed up at her building right after nightfall, and, after sitting nearby for several hours, and once she opened her window, he simply made his way to her room and let himself in.
He startled her by coming up behind her and slipping his arms around her body, drawing her back against him.
"Mm." She allowed herself to be nuzzled. "You have to stop doing that. Next time I might scream."
"Again?" She could hear the smirk in his voice.
"Not the good kind of scream."
"Oh. Well, who else comes up behind you and kisses your neck?" He asked, trying to suppress the mirth in his voice.
She sniffed. "I don't know. I've had a few – volunteers."
"Really? Who should I fight then, for you?"
She turned in his arms. "You'd fight someone – over me?"
"Shit, yes. I know a good thing when I've got it." He pulled his gloves off and tossed them on the floor.
"Ah, you mean a woman who'll bang you and not care if you don't call the next day?"
"Exactly." He kissed her, and she twined her arms around his neck. "In fact, I think that you may be the perfect woman."
"There you go, being all charming again."
"I am very charming." He backed her towards the bed.
"So you say." Her legs hit the mattress, and, bracing them with one arm, he lowered them both to the bed.
"I'll have you know that I have been told by several people that I am charming."
"How many of them were related to you?" She watched as he sat back on his haunches and shed his shirt.
"By blood, none, I think." He bent over, and, with his teeth, grabbed the bottom edge of her t-shirt and began dragging it upwards.
She giggled. "I have to say that you have a very talented mouth."
He dropped the hem. "You said that last night, too."
She reached for his utility belt, and he helped her remove it, and his boots and bottom half of his uniform followed, and he drew her up to pull her clothes off.
"Shit." He stopped, remembering that he had wanted to close the window – in case there were any observers.
"What?"
"I wanted to close the window."
"Oh, I'll get it." She jumped off the bed. "You get a condom."
"Right." He rolled over and opened the drawer on her bedside table, grabbing one. "Oh, and don't forget the drapes." He said over his shoulder.
She turned and gave him a strange look, but did as he said and returned to the bed.
"Ouch! What the hell?" She stumbled. "I stepped on something. Your utility belt." She bent over and picked it up, and they heard something fall to the floor. "Oh. I think I – broke something."
"Not a problem." He turned on the mask optics and crawled onto the floor.
"What was it?" She pulled off her t-shirt.
"I don't know. I didn't see it."
She started giggling. "I can't believe you're crawling around bare-assed on my floor."
He smiled up at her. "You got a problem with that?"
"Not at all. I like your bare ass. It's pretty much perfect." She stepped out of her underwear and sat on the bed.
He found the small button-sized piece of metal and picked it up. "Got it." He straightened and, sitting beside her, examined the object.
"What is it?" She peered over his shoulder.
He increased the optic zoom and brought the button nearer. Upon closer examination, several details came into focus. The manufacturer, among other things: Wayne Enterprises. The button's true function: tracking. The owner of the button: Batman.
Enlightenment came to him immediately.
A scene from Thanksgiving jumped into his head, and Damian's voice. "Is that where you've been going? To have sexual relations with a woman? She lives over that diner, doesn't she?"
How could he have missed that? How could he have not noticed what Damian had said?
Because you were a little busy with Jason, his inner voice told him.
"That little shit!" He closed his hand over the tracker.
"What is it?" She asked again.
"A tracking device."
"A tr – tracking device? As in, someone's been following you?"
"In a manner of speaking."
"And you know who it is?"
He shook his head and gave a bark of laughter. "Robin."
"Robin?" She sounded dazed.
"Yes – Robin. My baby br – bird." He stopped short of saying brother, and laughed again. "I can't believe that kid. Apparently he wanted to know where I was disappearing to every night."
"And now he knows."
"Oh, I think he's known for a while now."
"Oh." She sat back. "Do – do you want to go?"
"What?" He turned to her, distracted, then cleared his head of thoughts of Damian. "No. Oh, no." He tossed the tracker onto her bedside table, and pulled her onto his lap. "He already knows where I am. No hiding it." He lifted her hair from her shoulder. "Now, where were we?"
Author's Notes: I hope you enjoyed the bonus chapter. The incident at the beginning with the French word "contretemps" is part of an inside family joke - so it's an Easter egg to approximatelyfour people on Earth, none of whom read this fanfic. Anyway, if you get the chance to go to a site that can pronounce the word for you (the way that the French pronounce it - not the English mangling of it), you should listen to it. It is such a beautiful sound for the word "argument." French really is among the most mellifluous languages on Earth.
So, Jason is on the loose, making mischief, and Damian's mischief has, apparently, been managed. ; )
By the way, bonus chapters require reviews if you want more in the future...
; )