Gotham City

Later That Day

December 4th

Devon balled up the clothes that she had worn to Wayne Enterprises and put them into a bag, intending to throw them away with the rest of the diner's trash. She never wanted to see them again, and, every moment that they were in her possession, was a moment that she could be linked to the attack on Wayne Enterprises.

These little assignments of Larry's were starting to impact people on a larger scale. Who knew what sort of damage and havoc she had caused by shutting off the power? And what about injuries? Could someone have been hurt falling down dark stairs or in some other way?

She sighed. She couldn't go on like this – being Larry's lackey – doing things that she knew were wrong.

But what could she do about it? He had her at his mercy. Not only did the organization he worked for pay her tuition and the mortgage on the diner, but he had also threatened her and her grandmother if Devon did not do as he said.

For not the first time, she wondered how she had gotten herself into this mess and wondered how she could get out of it.

There must be some way. There must be!

She looked at the clock next to her bed. It was almost noon. She still had some time left in her shift, but she did not want to go downstairs to the diner and smile at strangers who had no idea that she was no better than a terrorist.

She grabbed her laptop and walked to the dining room, laying it on the table. Maybe she could do some studying – she hadn't logged into her online student account for a while. She didn't even know her current grades.

As she waited for her account to load, she thought again about the incident at Wayne Enterprises, and she remembered, suddenly, Dick Grayson. How could she have forgotten about Dick's odd appearance at Wayne Enterprises?

Because you were so worried about being caught by the police or killed by Larry, that's how!

She sighed. It was true. But, now that she had subdued her momentary terror, she wanted to think about why Dick had been there – and why that security guard had been so obsequious towards him.

She frowned at the screen. She had never done an internet search on him. Maybe it was time that she should.

"Stalker much?" She asked herself aloud, but, nonetheless, she opened a search page and typed in his name.

To her surprise, an entire page of results and photos of Dick Grayson – her Dick Grayson – came up on the screen.

With her jaw agape and her grades forgotten, she read the first few sentences of the first entry.

Wayne Family Attends Gala to Support Wayne Foundation

Gotham Gazette – by Vicki Vale – September 16, 2018

Bruce Wayne and all three of his sons were in Gotham City last night for the annual gala supporting the Wayne Foundation to benefit education and wayward youths. Wayne's eldest, adopted son Richard "Dick" Grayson (Wayne) has been quite the man about town...

Devon's eyes grew wide. Dick Grayson was the adopted son of Bruce Wayne?! Billionaire Bruce Wayne? That was the dad that Dick mentioned so casually in passing?! The guy who had been pursuing her was the eldest heir to the Wayne fortune – a fortune notorious for being immense – one of the largest in the United States, if not the world? And he had wanted to date her – Devon Wakeman? A waitress working her way through school, with not even a car to her name?!

A billionaire's heir was completely out of her league!

At least the security guard's attitude towards Dick made more sense.

She clicked on the link to the remainder of the story.

...ever since his recent break-up with his girlfriend of two plus years, Barbara Gordon, daughter of Gotham City Police Department Commissioner James Gordon. Grayson has been seen at hotspots in both Gotham and New York City, fueling speculation that he is following in his adopted father's famously dissolute footsteps.

The woman that Dick had brought with him to the diner – he had called her Babs. Was this the same woman? Were they back together? No. They couldn't be. He had told her – Devon – that he wasn't over her. He wouldn't have said that if he were back with Barbara Gordon.

She continued reading:

Also at the gala was Timothy Drake (Wayne), the billionaire's brilliant adopted third son, currently attending Princeton, and ten year-old Damian Wayne, said to be Bruce Wayne's only biological child. As readers may remember, another adopted son, Jason Todd (Wayne) perished five years ago on a humanitarian mission to Sarajevo, where he was kidnapped and killed by unidentified militants.

She stopped reading and looked off into space. A lot of this was in line with what Dick had told her. The genius younger brother who was attending Princeton, and the precocious youngest brother, for whom Dick had displayed so much obvious affection. But, a brother who had died? Named Jason? Dick had introduced the young man who had come with him to the diner as his brother, Jason. Did he have two brothers named Jason? Or maybe Jason had not actually been killed? If not, it was obvious that the press, at least, did not know that.

Bruce Wayne gave a tongue-in-cheek speech at the opening of the gala, asking attendees to open their wallets as often as they open their mouths to gossip, and starting the trend by publicly writing a $500,000 check towards the cause.

Wow. $500,000. That was more than the entire diner building was worth.

There was a picture displayed at the bottom of the page, and she scrolled until it nearly filled her screen. It was a picture of a smiling, tuxedoed Bruce Wayne at a podium, with Dick, in the background, also in a tuxedo, leaning over to listen to something another young man, presumably one of his brothers, was saying. An impish grin was on Dick's face, and Devon shook her head. Oh, yes. That was definitely her Dick Grayson.

Except that he wasn't her Dick Grayson. But it did explain why he was at Wayne Enterprises that morning.

It did also explain quite a bit about what Dick had told her about his life. His single father who had adopted him and who now wanted him to pursue a career in the family business. His youngest brother, who was their father's only biological child. Dick's obvious reverence and respect for his father – who wouldn't have respect for the man who had adopted not one, not two, but three orphaned boys?

Devon sat back, staring at the photo of Dick for a long while. Things started to fall into place, like a jigsaw puzzle, but there was something strange – something missing. Maybe it was something to do with his brother, Jason. She didn't know. But she did feel like she didn't have the entire story.

Maybe she never would. After all, it wasn't as if she and Dick were ever likely to date and share confidences, especially now that she was with Nightwing.

She sighed, and closed the browser window to finally look at her grades, and after that, she would have to go down to the diner and get back to work. There was no way that her grandmother could handle the lunch shift by herself.

Too bad there's no billionaire to adopt me.


Alicante, Spain

The Next Day

December 5th

The rain ran down the window pane in a random rhythm, and Damian, his hands crossed under his chin, supporting his head, idly followed the path that each rivulet took to pool at the bottom of the glass.

"Darling, isn't there something else you would rather do than stare at the rain all day?"

"Yes." Damian said, his words slurred by the fact that he did not life his chin from his hands. "Swimming. Boating."

Talia gave a deep sigh and came over to her son, laying a gentle hand on his shoulder. "If I could banish the storm, I would, Damian. But that is beyond even an Al Ghul's abilities."

"We could go into town." He turned to look at his mother.

"We are not – welcome there, I'm afraid. I've told you that." The residents of the nearest village were taken aback by Talia's unusual-looking and fierce bodyguards. And, although, normally, Talia would not care, she liked this house, and this place. It was convenient to much of her life, and she wanted to remain here, peacefully, for many years.

"So I'm to be a prisoner here – in this house, with nothing to do?"

She arched a brow. "Come now. Gotham is no summer camp year round. What do you do there when it is – snowing or raining?"

He shrugged, and turned back to the window. "I train. Or practice violin."

"You play violin?" She could not have been more surprised had he said that he was an altar boy at Gotham Cathedral.

"I've been taking lessons for over a year."

"Why, Darling, that it wonderful! I am certain that you are the best pupil that your master has."

"That is what Grayson said."

Talia expressed surprise. She had little regard for the urchin who had so obviously bamboozled Bruce, but he obviously could discern her son's superiority.

"Well, I shall buy you a Stradivarius."

Damian held up a hand. "Please, Mother. Do not. I have quite a fine violin at home."

"But you have nothing to play here. You need a violin if you are to practice while you are with me. And a master. I shall bring in a teacher and a violin so that you may keep your skills up."

"Well, thank you, Mother, but I think it's unnecessary."

"Nonsense. I shall engage one right away."

Damian sighed, although he was secretly pleased. There was little that he did that impressed his mother. "Thank you. But, please, no Stradivarius."

She blinked at him. "But that is the best."

"I do not need one. I am only a beginner, Mother."

"I don't understand. Why wouldn't you want the best?"

"I am not an expert violinist by any measure. Perhaps, if I should continue with the instrument – and excel, you may purchase me a Stradivarius."

"Of course you'll excel! You're an Al Ghul, after all. Ubu!" She called her bodyguard, who stood just outside the room.

"Lady Talia." He made a bow of obeisance.

"Send someone to me. I must find my son a proper violin master and a violin. Immediately. Today!"

"Yes, my lady." He bowed and back from the room.

She turned to Damian with an overly eager smile. "You should have a master and a new violin by tomorrow." She linked her hands in front of her at waist level, and watched him expectantly. "Now that I have solved that problem, how would you like to spend the rest of the day?"

"I – I don't know. Perhaps a – board game?"

"A what?"

"Board game."

She shook her head slowly. "I am unfamiliar with this type of game."

Damian frowned. "Like Monopoly or Clue or – Battleship."

"Hmm. Battleship? I don't have one, I'm afraid, Darling. Shall I buy you one?"

Damian gave an aggrieved sigh. "It does not use real battleships. They are plastic, and you arrange them on a..." He tried to mime placing the battleships, but sighed and dropped his hands. "Never mind."

"No, no. Tell me, Darling. I am – interested."

He shook his head. "It's just a – silly game that I play with Grayson – sometimes."

"Oh." She sniffed. "I do wish that you would not associate with that peasant. He is so far beneath us."

Damian's face reddened, and he stood, fists at his side. "Do not speak that way of him."

"But, Darling, you are the true Wayne heir. Not that pretender - that circus rat."

Damian drew himself up to his full four feet and eleven inch height. "Richard Grayson is among the finest men I have ever met, and, besides, he is my – brother. So you will not speak a word against him."

Talia's immaculately groomed brow arched again, and she inclined her head. "Had I known of your – affection for him, I would not have spoken thusly. But, Dearest, you must know that he is of an inferior caste – a product of wanderers, and thieves, and itinerant performers." She said with clear distaste.

"Nonetheless, Mother, I will not have you speak of him in such a manner. Have I made myself perfectly clear?"

At that moment, Damian was every inch a Wayne and an Al Ghul, although all Talia saw was a recalcitrant child who required discipline. This was his father's doing! Allowing her son to associate with commoners and vagabonds, and taint him with their mediocrity! She must get her darling, precious child away from such influences.

Still, she would not tip her hand.

She gave a slight smile. "Of course, Darling. I will speak of him no more."

"Thank you, Mother." Damian returned the smile with one of his own, sweet and genuine, and Talia's heart twisted.

I will save you, my son. My precious, precious child. You shall soon be where you belong.


Gotham City

That Afternoon

December 5th

Dick rubbed his face wearily as he watched yet another surveillance tape. He had been at this particular task for, off and on, nearly a day. He had watched hour after hour of footage covering all of the Wayne Enterprises Building's entrances. All seven of them. Seven doors, through which thousands of Wayne Enterprises employees passed every day. Thousands of employees, thousands of faces, but none of them pregnant blondes.

So she, whoever she was, must have entered the building in another disguise.

Dick sighed, and laid his head down on his arms. How would he identify a woman who looked nothing like the one that he had run into? Where would he start?

He had thought to start with the traffic cameras around the building, but he had run into a dead end with that idea. The cameras nearby had been disabled a few minutes before the electricity had gone off at the Wayne building. Whoever had planned this attack knew what he or she was doing.

He looked at his watch. It was almost two thirty. He had skipped his first class, and, unless he left now, he would miss his next class. He shut off the surveillance footage and stood to stretch.

It felt good to stretch. It felt good to move. He had not gone out patrolling the night before because of the incident at Wayne Enterprises, and, were he truthful with himself, he was getting out of shape. He was not swinging as much as usual, and he was not running in the mornings, or working out – at all. In fact, most of his physical activity recently had been of the sexual nature, and, although that was the most fun way to burn calories, it was not exactly muscle building.

He flexed his arms and looked around the Batcave. He should come back here later and suit up and go out. It would feel good to swing again.

But for now, he had to get to school.

He ran up the stairs and into the quiet house. It really was much too quiet without Damian there. His little brother was always good for some noise.

The click-clack of Titus's nails behind Dick alerted him to the dog's presence, and he squatted down to pet the animal. "They left you here, didn't they, boy?" After scratching him behind the ears, Dick checked his food and water, and to make made certain that his rather large doggy door was functioning properly. "You take care of the house, Titus. Call if there are any problems."

Followed by the dog, Dick grabbed his backpack and went to the garage. He was about to sling his backpack into the back of his BMW when his eye alighted on his new motorcycle. He nodded in satisfaction.

He was going to take the Blackbird.


It felt good to ride in the daylight. At night, he never felt that he could go as fast as he would like – there were always dangers inherent in being unable to see for long distances.

But in the daylight, on the long, lonely road that led from Wayne Manor to the freeway, he could go as fast as he liked. There were no crossroads, and only long driveways with plenty of visibility.

And, with his helmet on, he felt anonymous and almost reckless. Bruce would have frowned on such behavior as foolhardy, but, then again, he regularly swung hundreds of feet off the ground from a tiny cord, so who was he to pass judgment?

Dick slowed down to the speed limit when he hit the freeway, and he was on campus in more than enough time to get to class.

As he was entering the building, he got a text. Pulling the phone from his pocket, he saw that it was Wally.

Hey, dude! How's it hanging?

Not bad. You recover from Saturday yet?

I have. Artemis not so much. She hasn't forgiven me.

Tell her we only get drunk once a year.

You're forgetting New Year's.

Shit, you're right. Okay, twice a year.

And both in December.

Dick leaned on the building as he typed. Yikes. I'll get her a good Christmas present to make it up to her.

She DOES have her eye on a food processor she saw online.

Deal. Email me the details.

Dude, I was kidding!

I wasn't. Seriously, send it to me.

That's nice of you.

Not a big deal. I owe her already.

Yeah, you do. You getting ready for finals?

If, by "getting ready," you mean watching 7 hours of surveillance tapes and choking down a burger and fries for the third meal in a row, then, yeah.

WTH? What happened?

I didn't feel like cooking.

REALLY? I don't care about your eating habits! Why were you watching 7 hours of surveillance tapes?

Someone sabotaged WE.

WHAT? When?

Yesterday.

What happened?

Took out the electric with a small EMP.

If that wasn't heinous, I'd be impressed. What were they after?

No idea.

Is Bruce spitting nails?

Yes and no. He and Dami are in Europe. He's spitting nails at ME.

Ouch. Hence the surveillance marathon?

Yeah.

Well, don't wait until the last minute to study.

I know.

And try to get some sleep instead of, you know...nookie.

Yes, mother.

And stand up straight.

Dick chuckled. I love you, man. You know that, right?

Yeah, I know.

See you this weekend?

SERIOUSLY? I JUST TOLD YOU NOT TO WAIT UNTIL THE LAST MINUTE TO STUDY!

So that's a no, then?

We'll have plenty of time to hang after finals.

Won't you have grading to do?

That's a breeze. I've got it down to a science – mind the pun – each paper takes me fifteen minutes to grade.

Times 150.

Shit. That's almost 40 hours. Artemis is going to KILL me. I promised we'd spend quality time together.

And when exactly are you going to fit me in?

I will. I will. Don't worry. I'm not going to abandon my best friend. Hey, maybe you can have a Christmas party.

Maybe I can have a Christmas party?

Dude, you KNOW Alfred lives for that.

Alfred might – Bruce does NOT.

No prob. We'll arrange for a couple of prison breaks and he'll be out of our hair.

Ha ha.

Dick looked at the time on his phone, and realized that it was three o'clock exactly.

Shit. I gotta go. Late for class.

Talk to you later, buddy.


Class consisted of a review for the final, the next week, and, for once, Dick paid attention.

After class, he headed back to the manor and spent several more hours with the surveillance footage before reluctantly updating Bruce.

"Dick. Do you have anything?"

Dick sighed, and threw himself on the sofa in the family room. "A bit of a headache."

"But no leads."

He covered his eyes with his hand. "No. Whoever she was, she came in as someone else."

"And traffic cameras?"

"Disabled. This was well-planned, Bruce."

"No doubt." His sigh was audible on the line. "Thank you for your hard work. We'll work more on leads when I get home."

"When will that be?"

"Monday, most probably. I'm expecting to get Damian back on Sunday."

"Have you heard from him?" Dick idly turned over and flipped open the pizza box on the coffee table.

"Yes."

"Is he having – fun?" He chose a slice and pulled off the pepperoni for Titus, who sat waiting patiently next to him.

"To be completely honest, Dick, I'm not sure that Damian knows how to have fun. And I'm certain that Talia doesn't."

"Would it be inappropriate at this point to say that's the pot calling the kettle black?" There was silence on the line, and Dick chuckled as he chewed pizza. "I guess it would be." A thought occurred to him. "Hey, isn't it like three A.M. there? What are you doing up so late?"

"I am the night."

Dick's eyes opened wide. "Bruce? Was that a joke?"

"It may have been." There was a suppressed note of mirth in his father's voice.

"That's the third this calendar year!"

"Well, there's a new year coming up soon."

Dick grinned. "Will telling more jokes be a resolution of yours?"

"I sincerely doubt it."

Dick laughed, and he could have sworn he heard a chuckle on the line.

"Sleep well, Bruce."

"You, too, Dick."

Dick was about to end the call when Bruce hailed him. "And Dick?"

"Yeah?"

"Take some nights off from swinging. You could use the rest. And the time studying."

Dick rolled his eyes. "Wally told me the same thing."

"I can't believe I'm about to say this, but Wally and I agree."

"Great minds think alike?"

"Apparently. And take some time off from seeing your girlfriend. Not for the reason you think." He hastened to add. "She needs to study, too."

Dick knew that his father was right. "I will. I'll stay home and be a good boy."

"That I doubt, as well."


Gotham City

Late The Next Night

December 6th

Dick rapped at the window, and Devon, studying on her bed, looked up with surprise. It was earlier than usual for Nightwing to visit, and, although she was glad that he was here, she really had to study.

Making certain that the burglar alarm was disabled, she lifted the window.

He leaned in on the sill and smiled at her cheekily, rain plastering his hair to his head. "Miss me, baby?"

"Oh, have you been gone?" She asked, equally as cheekily.

"Hasn't your bed been cold?"

"Like a freezer. Which is what it will feel like in here if we keep the window open. Is it snowing yet?"

"No. Just cold rain."

She smiled and helped him through the window, even though she was sure he didn't need it.

Once he was inside, she wrapped her arms around him despite his soaked uniform, and kissed him, long and slow. She finally broke away. "I'm all wet now."

"I bet." He murmured, lowering his head to nuzzle at her collar bone.

"Smart ass." Despite her words, she gave a low, breathy sound. "I'm studying – ahhhhhhhhh." She quieted when his teeth nipped her there.

"Hmmm. Can't you take a little break?"

"Are you the devil?" She asked as his tongue dragged along her skin.

He chuckled. "Temptation's the name of the game." He he took one of her breasts in his mouth, and she protested.

He looked at her. "Does that hurt?"

She gave a twinge of pain and nodded.

"Must soon be that time of the month."

She blinked, thinking. "Yeah. I guess. I forgot about that."

"The dark days, I call it. Oh. Did I say that out loud?"

She chuckled. "I know that you hate it."

"Don't you?"

"It's not my favorite."

"Mm." He lifted her in his arms and carried her to the bed.

"My laptop." She protested, feebly, as he laid her down.

"I'll take care of it." He removed it from the mattress and set it down on the floor, along with her books.

"Don't drip on it."

"Here. I'll get rid of these wet clothes." He began to strip.

"How is it that you can distract me from everything?" She asked as she watched him undress.

He grinned as he pulled off his uniform top. "It's my physical perfection. You just can't resist me."

She pulled off her own t-shirt and tossed it aside. "If that weren't so true, I'd consider you conceited." Topless, she pointed at him severely, and he found himself inexplicably turned on. "An hour. No more."

A mischievous smile grew on his face. "Yes, Ma'am." He was already planning the stern headmistress/naughty schoolboy scenario playing in his head.


An hour turned into an hour and a half, and, despite herself, Devon found herself falling asleep in Nightwing's arms. Cradled in the warmth of his arms, she heard, on the edge of her consciousness, her text alert go off.

She ignored it as she snuggled into him, eyes closed.

There was another alert and Nightwing jiggled her. "Love. You've gotten some texts."

Her eyes shot open. What? "What?"

"You've gotten some texts. Four, I think."

"Huh?" She scrambled upright and grabbed for her phone.

Larry!

She swiped at the screen.

I have a job for you.

Tonight, so wake up.

Are you sleeping?

Wake the hell up!

She turned the phone off, and shot Nightwing a brief glance. He had not seen the texts – she was certain of it. She smiled. She would ignore the texts – let Larry think she was asleep. "Just a mass text from my study group. They have boundary problems."

"Ah." He, too, sat up. "I should probably go. You've got studying to do – or sleeping, maybe – and I've overstayed my time limit." He leaned forward to kiss her.

"Hmm." She bit his lip softly. "I'm done with finals on Tuesday. Then I'm all yours from two P.M. on every day."

"Afternoon delights, huh?" He considered her request after she had released his lip. "I don't usually do the hero get-up in the daylight."

"I could wear a blindfold so that I can't see you clearly." She pressed her lips against his pectoral muscle.

"Ooooh. A blindfold, eh? Now you're talking!" He kissed the top of her head.

"Or else you can come into the diner..."

"And meet you in the ladies' room?"

"Sounds good." She purred.

He felt himself begin to harden again, but he remembered his promise to her, and his own studying. "I've got to go." He hopped off the bed and began dressing.

She leaned back and watched him as he slid on his uniform. He was undeniably, unequivocally, the sexiest, most handsome man she had ever, ever seen.

Ever.

And she was the luckiest woman in the world.


Author's Notes: Oh, yeah, she's lucky, all right. Lucky Dick doesn't know the truth!

Anyway, I hope that you enjoyed Damian's continued visit with his mother, and Devon's discovery about Dick's background. There MAY be some repercussions about THAT little secret!

Please review, and make me HAPPY! : )