The Morning After

Ugh. Hell of a night.  Dick was just getting in—it was; Dick glanced at the glowing red numbers; six in the morning.  He had just peeled off his Nightwing guise and crawled into bed when a knock came at his door.  Dick groaned and ignored it, hoping it would go away.  Just as he thought it may have, the knock came again, and Dick hauled himself out of bed, rather clumsily put on a pair of shorts that were lying at his feet, and shuffled to the door.

He checked the peephole, still hoping that it was someone he could send away for at least five more hours.  It wasn't.  Dick sighed, flicked on a light, and opened the door.  He knew his mental state was obvious as he greeted, "Hi, Clark.  What can I do for you?" 

"I wanted to talk to you, Dick.  I assume you've heard.. ?"

Dick nodded wearily, "Wally told me."

Clark studied the young hero for a moment as he responded to Dick's gesture of welcome into the apartment.  "Have you gotten any sleep tonight?" He asked as he passed Dick. 

"No.  I just got in."  Clark nodded, noting the costume on the floor. 

"Is that safe?" Clark asked, gesturing to the costume.  "What if I had been someone else?"

"I would have told you to hold on while I stuffed it under the bed," Dick stated matter-of-factly.  "Clark, why are you here?"

Clark sighed, and said, "Not one for small talk, are you?  Like father like son, I guess."

At mention of Bruce, Dick's expression hardened and he stated, "Not at six in the morning."  He gestured to the lone table, and Clark stepped across the small apartment to reach it.  After Dick cleared a chair, Clark took it, and Dick joined him after clearing a chair for himself.

"I wanted to make sure you understand why we did what we did." Clark started.

Dick sighed, and he said, "I do a little.  I mean, I know how he can be, but most of me doesn't get it at all." He shook his head, "Clark, you know him as well as anyone.  You know he plans for extreme measures.  But you also know he would have never ever used any of them unless he had tried every single other option, and then some that he knew deep down wouldn't work."

"But to plot against us without telling us?  That's a little extreme, Dick."

"Hell, Clark, you gave Bruce that Kryptonite ring!  One could suggest that you put it in his head in the first place,"  Dick's voice started to sound accusing.  "You can't deny that a contingency plan against the JLA is a good idea.  His only mistake—and I admit that it was a major mistake—was not keeping it secure."

"So you support what he's done?" Clark sounded surprised.

Dick thought for a moment, and said carefully, "I wouldn't say I support it.  But I understand it."  He paused for a moment, and then asked, "Have you seen that file?"

"No," Clark admitted.

Dick paused again, looking at the table.  "That file is—complete.  There are instructions on how to take Bruce out too."  He looked up to find Clark's surprised expression.

Clark started, "But how..?"

"How would it work if he knew about it?" Dick finished.  "There's a technique he never mastered, believe it or not.  And after realizing how dangerous he could be, he stopped trying.  It's a rare technique—and the only other person that knew besides me died five years ago.  It's an Achilles' heel that he's left for himself."  A lump formed in his throat as he stated, "He made me practice it over and over so that I would be his safeguard." He looked up at Clark, "Do you know what it's like to master a technique when you know its sole purpose is to take out your father?"

Clark sighed, and looked sympathetically at Dick.  "I didn't know that.  You understand that it can't change our decision though?  The JLA doesn't trust him anymore."

"Yeah, I understand.  Most people don't trust him.  I trust him with my life and more, and I thought the JLA understood him well enough to do the same, but I understand if that's not the case.  No one can argue that he's a team player."

Clark let out a little chuckle.  "I suppose I should have known him better.  It's just a little strange to know that someone has detailed a method to kill you.  That is the pure definition of premeditated murder, after all."

Dick nodded.  "I know.  And I'm sure he knows how to take me down too.  It's just.."

"No," Clark interrupted, "I'm sure he hasn't detailed a way to kill you.. you're his son!"

"And you think that would stop him?  I know that he would use it only as a very last resort, and I gotta tell you, Clark, it's actually kinda comforting."  Dick answered Clark's puzzled expression by saying, "If it gets to the point that I'm out of control and doing harm to those I'm supposed to protect, I'd much rather have Bruce take me down than some stranger.  You must feel the same—why else would you have given Bruce that ring?"

Clark nodded in response while losing himself in thought.  He asked softly, "Do you think he understands?"

"Why you did it?" Dick asked, although he knew that's what Clark meant.  He thought a moment and said, "Yeah, I think he does, although I think it hurt him more than even he knows.  He's not as much of a loner as he thinks he is.  He needs us as much as any human needs others, and to be told he's not welcome in really the only group of peers he comes close to really socializing with.. I think that hurt him.  But he'll sort it out logically, and I don't think he'll hold a grudge.  At least not a very strong one.   If you happen to ask for his help much later, you might get a smart remark, but he'd help you I think." 

Dick sighed and rubbed his eyes.  After a yawn, he stated, "We have a long haul ahead of us." He meant his family.  "Yesterday's events are going to make him go into major hermit mode, and it's going to take every one of us to make sure he doesn't go in for good.  It's always such a challenge anyway."

"You want help?"  Clark asked.

"Naw.  No offense, but I think you'd have the opposite effect, at least right now.  Maybe in a month or two you could try, but not now."  Clark nodded.  Even as Dick said it, he knew the young man was right.

Clark sighed and stood.  He clapped his hand on Dick's shoulder and said, "Get some sleep." Dick nodded and stood to follow Clark to the door.  Dick held the door for him, and just as he passed through it, Clark finished with, "Godspeed, Dick.  I know he won't believe this now, but I hope you do—I wish him the best of luck, and that decision I made was one of the hardest I ever had to make.  I hope someday we can be friends again."

Dick nodded, and said, "I believe it, and I think he'd know that it wasn't easy." Dick leaned on the doorframe as he finished, "But it's going to be a while before he can accept the choice you made.  I hope you're ready for a long wait."  Clark nodded solemnly and turned to leave.  Without moving, Dick watched the reporter move out of sight, then closed his door and returned to bed, making a conscious effort to purge thoughts of the road to come.