Chapter 6

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"The best proof of love is trust."
-Joyce Brothers

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If it had been forty years ago, he would've suspected something when he first found it. He would've crushed it in his gloved hand and released it into the exhaust so the wind could do with it what it thought best. He would've seen destroying it as moving a step forward without Bruce. Whether it was a reflex of a credulous nine and a half year old body or curiosity that made Dick decipher the data disk he didn't know. The why didn't seem to be important when he glanced through the information he had been left.

As the student of the Dark Knight, he had been trained to look at everything objectively. Often emotions would cloud the mind to the obvious facts. It was not the first rule Dick ignored. It wasn't that he had expected Bruce to change his ways overnight, but he could've made it less obvious that he was still controlling everything that went on in his city.

He had never actually blamed Bruce for what happened thirty-five years ago until the anger had caused him to lash out earlier, but now it was all here. Not only was there information about the cult now, but for the past one hundred years or more; information that Bruce had been collecting for about forty-five years; information that could've altered the events in Fiji.

It was one thing to throw around accusations he hadn't believed, but quite another to discover they were true. He had lost so much over so little, and yet, it seemed just another obstacle in his life that he would overcome. What hurt was Bruce hadn't told him the truth in person. Bruce had to put it on the motorcycle where he could avoid seeing Dick's reactions, as if he couldn't even admit what happened.

He had originally planned to leave again. Even a nine year old could've understood what Terry and Bruce were talking about over the phone earlier. He obviously didn't fit in anymore. It would've been the perfect time to leave with both of them distracted. As long as Dick could get past Ace he would head for Metropolis, bound to see if Superman or any other superhero needed some help. He would've done it, if he hadn't overhead Terry's distress call.

Bruce had taught him the stealth skills Dick used when he peered down into the cave. The argument that he was only taking one last look around seemed convincing at the time, but in truth, he was looking for a reason to stay. It wasn't the sound clip of Terry's voice that Dick found most disturbing, it was the fact that the cave was devoid of any life. He had been thankful for the isolation as he hacked his way into the uniform vault; if he dwelt on his actions or the questions Robin's costume raised about Tim, he would never get through the night.

The costume wasn't his anymore, but the brightly colored tunic wasn't the most important part anyway. He took what he needed to protect his identity and the gadgets which where most familiar and hopefully not modified too much. Dick didn't need any symbols to do his job; he was on a mission to retrieve Terry, not become his sidekick.

If there was one good about Bruce's obsessive nature, it was that every vehicle was in pristine working condition. Dick could trace Terry's last position on the bike that Tim had once used. He was doing all right, until he found and decoded Bruce's little gift. Reading the files, he was somewhere between rage and insane laughter.

"Dick, pick up."

The extra headset left with the disk plainly still worked.

"Dick, answer me!"

"Bastard. You set everything up. I should've realized everything was too accessible with you being mysteriously out of the cave and all. It all comes down to your control issues again."

"You should be out there."

"We both know that, I even want to be out here, but you would feel less power if I thought I had a choice in the matter. Why couldn't you have just asked me for my help?"

"The same reason that you didn't ask to borrow the mask, gloves, utility belt or the motorcycle, because we don't listen to each other."

"Don't get all mushy on me. Next time, all you really have to do is say 'Dick, Terry needs your help.' Then I'll say 'Sure, Bruce, I'm always there for you.' It will be something new for you to try."

"Dick, Terry needs - I need you to help Terry."

He had learned long ago the power that words had to hurt, but had never really considered the opposite effect. It had always seemed that the saying 'actions speak louder than words' ruled the house, but to hear Bruce say those words . . . It wasn't until that moment that Dick realized he had been waiting all his career to hear that phrase. Whenever he had gone after Batman when Robin had been instructed to stay out of it, it had been his own decision. It almost became expected of him to show up at the last minute and knock out the three henchmen with the guns pointed at Batman while Batman took care of the Joker or Two-Face or whatever psycho was trying rule Gotham that night. It wasn't that Bruce wasn't grateful, but he did the exact same thing the next time the city was in danger. If that was the role of the sidekick, then he couldn't live that way anymore. Yet, even as Nightwing, Bruce managed to avoid asking directly for help. "So, do you think this one talk will fix everything?

"No, but we've got time and now we have a place to start."

". . . I think I can live with that. So . . ."

"So?"

"So how did you know that I would take the motorcycle anyway. I do feel out of place as the only vehicle with wheels."

"It was the only one where your little legs could reach the pedals."

"Oh do stop, if my self esteem gets much higher I might start acting like some rich spoiled kid. About Terry-"

"Yes?"

Dick bit his tongue on the question he was going to ask. "He hasn't broken my 'fallen into the most obvious traps' record, has he? I mean, I worked hard for that record."

"Hn. You can ask him when you both return, debrief, and replace the Robin mask you took."

Bruce had been so close to the question. "Yeah, about that - we are going to have to talk about getting me a different mask when I get back."

"What makes you think that you will ever need a new one?"

"See? There you go again-"

"What's wrong with the one you have on? Masks cost money you know; it's not like I have millions just lying around."

And it was Bruce on the line, the man who had taken a circus gypsy into his home and into his life. The man who had never attempted to replace Dick's father, but had given a little boy everything else. The man who had shared every corner and crack of a crime filled city and had give Dick a purpose. Dick was only nine, but Bruce had lost the same fifty-three years and Bruce was Bruce again. Dick's earlier questions about Terry and Robin became irrelevant. Their fight became irrelevant. Barb's marriage to another man became irrelevant. Dick just lost himself in the moment.

"Dick, are you there? I hope the sound of you engine idling isn't an indication that you've actually paid attention to the traffic signals for once. When you get back son, we are going to have to go over things you should learn to practice in your civilian identity and not in the middle of a rescue mission."

"Leave the quips to the pro, Bruce. I'll be there in two minutes."

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The Confessor had mentioned something about the blood sacrifice amplifying his fears, but mostly he was just annoyed. Terry wasn't sure with whom he was most annoyed.

The cult which was planning to sacrifice him seemed a good place to start. Their leader had been particularly garrulous, even for a religious nut. If the cult was finally going to do him in, they could've at least not tortured him with religious prophecies. Terry was annoyed with the cult.

Wayne had ignored his distress call, not that Terry liked to think of it as such. But for some reason, Wayne hadn't responded even though the older man would never have left the cave with Batman out. Unless something really crazy had happened and he had decided to speak with Dick. In reality, Terry could see Wayne in the cave, just listening, letting Terry feel slightly schizophrenic as he spoke to himself. Not that he doubted Wayne's ability to assist him, just that he was annoyed for not being privy to how. Terry was annoyed with Wayne.

Terry himself had fallen into a stupid trap and allowed himself to be the next sacrifice. His suit had been damaged, which hadn't made him helpless, but did incapacitate some of his abilities. His three other escape attempts had failed. Terry was annoyed with himself.

Wayne was probably letting him sweat to learn a lesson.

Or to replace him.

For the first time he felt threatened by Dick's return. Dick was the first Robin after all, and at the same physical age as when Wayne had first made him Robin. While Dick couldn't be Batman, his older self could once he was restored. Bruce and Dick had actually worked together in the field, which must've been something to be considered the Dynamic Duo. Despite their differences, despite everything Wayne had said, the older man had trusted the boy far more than was safe and for some other reason than Terry's instincts. Dick was that one piece of past which Wayne seemed to accept, and Terry wasn't sure he could compete with that.

But then the communicator beeped and Wayne's voice was again in his ear. The words were not comforting if not slightly insulting, but the gesture was.

Terry was mostly annoyed with himself for not seeing the fear behind the doubt. He hoped help would come before any more unpleasant revelations.

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Dick decided Brother Blood had watched too many Bond flicks and reacted accordingly. Somehow they had managed to build an underground lair beneath a ten story building in the middle of central Gotham and had it locked down tighter than the government watched Area 51.

"What's your position?"

"I'm on the roof. Are you sure that this is the only way in?"

"That's the only other entrance into the 'basement' that something larger than an acorn could fit through, other than the direct approach, which will be guarded more closely now."

"Okay, but do we have to start at the top? I mean couldn't I enter the duct from the ground floor instead of going down a twelve story drop?"

"Only if you can find a way through a couple feet of cement and instantaneously bypass four separate security measures on five different grids."

"Isn't an air duct stuck in the middle of concert suspicious looking in the middle of a building?"

"It's located where the stairwells would be."

"And no one ever uses the stairs?"

"It's a government building."

"Oh, well that actually doesn't explain anything. It sounds like a slightly vicious jab at bureaucracy to be honest. But that is irrelevant. What sort of goodies are protecting this duct?"

"Select side panels are sensitive to pressure."

"No problem, I'll just-"

"There are also have an updated version of infrared sensors down the entire length of the air shaft.

"Then I'll-"

"They don't show up on any of the lenses that you have."

"I can-"

"There is also an assortment of smoke detectors, light detectors, and heat sensors."

"You done?"

"Yes."

"And what happens if anything becomes activated?"

"The fan at the bottom will become active, along with motion laser guns, spikes, and a platoon of men"

"I'm going to have to have a long talk with Hollywood about making bad guys paranoid. I'm afraid to ask but, how do you know all this?"

"The original design was by Wayne Tech. It would seem that Powers didn't keep all our products off the market."

"Great, when this is done, remind me to sell any stock I have in Wayne Enterprises. You helped design this, how do I get down there without killing myself?"

"Avoid the sensors."

"Well that helps. I wouldn't have to worry about the smoke or light detectors really. The heat sensors are linked to the fan controls. According to your layouts, they get turned off when the fan is on. Is there a way you could activate that fan without sounding and alarm?"

"How are you going to avoid the fan?"

"The same way I'm going to stop myself from ending up a pancake after a twelve story fall - my Bat toys."

"And how are you planning on reaching that far?"

"You have the blueprints there, right?"

"Yes."

"And this thing doesn't have some sound detector thing, does it?"

"No."

"Then you tell me how to fall."

"Explain."

"Listen, I can't see what I'm avoiding and I don't know where I can bounce off walls, but I'm betting you can. Knowing you, you have some sort of camera so you can see what I see, and I'm betting you have more settings on the lens than I do. Not to mention that I'm probably some sort of dot on your computer screen that can be turned into some 3-D grid thing of the building as I make my decent. I don't have time to memorize the maze of traps and we don't have time to argue if we want to help Terry. It's their own fault that I'm small enough to even imagine tumbling down this thing, and they're going to regret it."

"Four feet above the fan, there is a passageway that will lead you to a pit of some sort. We will lose communication there."

"Don't worry. I'm considering on checking in this time before Terry hits his fifties."

"What is your exit route?"

"I was taught by the best, I'll figure something out."

"I'm activating the fan . . . now."

"Works for me because I just got the grate off. Boy, they don't even give you time to crawl through a stuffy cramped tunnel before the drop; it's just straight down."

"Ready?"

"When am I not?"

It was a peculiar feeling - giving complete control to someone else - Dick relying on Bruce with his life. It wasn't really Dick ricocheting off the walls and somersaulting blindly down against the wind, it was him. It was an endless video game to Dick as he reacted instantaneously to Bruce's gruff voice as it bluntly asserted abrupt, monosyllable commands into his ear. Yet, in some strange way it was comforting to know that it was Bruce behind the controls. With him there, Dick would make it.

He had expected trouble with his lighter body. Already he missed what twenty years of weight training could accomplish, but surprisingly he automatically made up the difference in speed. It became easier to breathe when he could hear the net he triggered bursting open and the reassuring sound of metal scraping as it's grappling hooks dug into the sides of the duct. Dick had been landing in safety nets since before he could walk, but it couldn't support him at his current velocity. But there was really nothing to fear when there was a whole arsenal of gadgets at his disposal. The sensors stopped a whole story before he would hit the net so they couldn't detect the spikes that were attached to Dick's gloves as he embedded them through the metal. His arms felt like they were being dragged behind a train and the metal tearing sounded worse, but it was worth it when he felt the familiar sensation of the net's snapback after it caught him.

"Yeah right! That was sure convenient."

"What is your status?"

"If you consider staring into the blades of a fan two inches from your face good, then I'm perfect. Have a talk with your engineers over creating a better system, that was too easy."

"Well, considering it was never actually on . . ."

"What-"

"Got you."

"I'm not so sure I like this humorous side of you."

"Can you reach the tunnel?"

"No problem."

"Just don't touch the bottom; they are all trap doors. You'll have to cling to the sides and the ceiling."

"My Bat-Sense is tingling."

"Bat-Sense?"

"We've got to get you out more. And I don't mean storming Evil HQ by supporting yourself between walls so you don't fall through into some bottomless pit."

"You aren't down that passageway?"

"No, I am not out of this fun house yet."

"You aren't even breathing hard."

"You know, this is why Superman works alone."

"No he doesn't. How could you forget Supergirl or Superboy, they were obnoxious enough."

"I'm nearing the end. It's a real shame that you're breaking up."

"And Dick?"

"Yes?"

"I'm expecting to see both you and Terry soon."

"You will, Bruce, you will."

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