Anoxia- absence of oxygen

Disclaimer: Any characters previously mentioned in a DC comic, I do not own. DC does. I'm not making money off of this.

Far From The Tree

Part 2

By Gates

Nightwing had parked himself atop his favourite Gotham gargoyle. He looked down at the photo in his hand for what had to be the hundredth time that evening, then determinedly put it away. The young man removed his mask and rubbed his weary eyes.

He felt tired.

More tired than he could ever remember. It wore down to his bones. He had hoped that the winds at this height would have helped to shake the fuzziness, but they didn't.

He felt terrible.

He was a detective. His mind was one of his greatest tools. His decision had been logical and sound.

It didn't stop the hurt.

A week had passed since Helena had told him. He'd been able to think of little else. Crime fighting had become almost second nature to him over the years and the night to night beating of thugs, was more instinct, requiring little thought. Thankfully, this week his skills as a detective hadn't been needed… yet…

A decision had to be made.

Truth be told, he had known what that decision would be all along.

He was angry with Bruce. He was angry with himself, but he was angry with Bruce. The worst part was he felt he shouldn't have been. Secret identities be damned! So what if she knew who he was?

She'd find out Bruce Wayne. So what? He was mad enough. He didn't care.

Tim… Hmm. Well, she *liked* Robin. He would understand.

And she wouldn't use that knowledge to against them. She was on their side… right?

…Petite.

…Damn.

He was dead, but what about the next time? What about Helena's temper? Her impulsiveness?

They were heroes. But they were human. And they weren't meta.

And what about the baby? He was Officer Grayson by day. Nightwing by night, and somewhere in between he found time to help out Batman in Gotham city *and* be the leader of the Titans in New York. …A baby?!

His decision had been made.

It didn't stop the hurt.

He'd come to Gotham instead of going on patrol that night in the 'Haven. At her apartment, Helena was sitting on her sofa apparently watching television. The look in her eyes indicated that her mind was elsewhere. She didn't hear him come in, nor did she hear him call her name the first time. She jumped slightly when he placed a hand on her shoulder.

"Don't you bat-boys ever knock?"

"Sorry."

"Just in the neighbourhood?"

"Helena…"

"Why do I get the distinct feeling I'm not going to enjoy this visit?"

"…I can't give you my name."

"I never asked for it."

They stared poignantly at each other for a moment, then Helena lowered her gaze.

"I wanted to." She said quietly. She looked back at him. "But I know your allegiance to the Bat is too strong."

"It's not just him--"

"Whatever. Look, is that all you came here for? Cause if it is, I'm kind of tired. I've had a long day."

"…I want to be involved… But I'll understand if you don't want me to be."

"And someday when he or she asks 'Mommy, why doesn't Uncle Nightwing have a real name?', what am I supposed to say?" She shook her head. "Could you really lie to your own child like that? I'm sorry. My life is complicated enough." She let out a sigh. "You can't have it both ways Nightwing. I'm sorry."

He nodded. "I understand." He said, but that was almost all he could say, for his throat was beginning to feel unbearably tight.

He reached into his gauntlet and withdrew a small circular device. A transmitter. He placed it on the coffee table in front of her.

"If you need anything… anything at all."

"I won't." She said curtly.

"It's always good to have something to back you up."

"…I use to believe that."

"…"

He nodded again. "Just the same. Keep it." He told her and turned to the window.

"Wait…" she said and reached for a small envelope. She handed it to him.

"You should have… something…" she said.

That something was the photograph that had chased him to his current position atop the gargoyle.

"You did the right thing." He said to the wind. He was trying to convince himself, but failing miserably.

He sighed and slapped his hands on his knees. The night was still young, and he had one more stop to make before heading back to the Bludhaven.

*****

"Her response?"

"She was expecting it. She said my allegiance to you was too strong."

"This wasn't about me, Dick."

"I told her as much."

Batman nodded and turned back to the Crays computer. His cowl was back revealing the handsome features which were eerily similar to those of his foster son.

"She doesn't want my help." Dick continued. "Still, I'll be making some anonymous investments into her bank account."

Bruce nodded. "So that's it then." He said plainly. "It's finished.

Nightwing wanted to hit him. He was making it sound like the closure of a simple business deal. Dick balled his fists tightly in an effort to control his growing rage.

"I have patrolling to do." He spat out. He turned on his heal but stopped short. Returning to where his mentor—teacher—father was sitting, he dropped the small envelope onto the computer consol in front of him.

"And this is?"

"Just thought you might want to see the first picture of your grandchild… and the last." He replied bitterly. He left without saying another word.

*****

It was just after three thirty when the Batmobile roared back into the cave. Not bothering with the uniform vault, Batman casually tossed his cape and cowl over the back of a chair, laid his utility belt on a table and headed upstairs, slipping into a warm robe.

"Ah, Master Bruce. I was just coming down to meet you, sir."

"It's alright, Alfred."

"Your night ventures were successful, I take it?"

Bruce nodded and sat down behind the large desk in his study.

"Something troubling you, sir?"

Bruce continued tapping his index finger on his mouth for a moment. He paused and pulled out the envelope Dick had given him, sliding it across the desk's shiny surface.

Alfred picked up the envelope and removed its contents.

"My word." He said, quietly, studying the ultra-sound photo. "Is this--"

"--Dick's child." Bruce finished.

"I see."

Bruce leaned his head back and closed his eyes.

"I'm hurting him again, Alfred."

"Indeed you are, sir."

He opened his eyes to stare at the gentleman. He'd expected the usual assurance that he was being too hard on himself. But Alfred knew when to pick his moments. He was always truthful, but usually managed to cushion his comments with his own personal flare.

"*Why* am I hurting him?" He asked the man. Since he was so smart, maybe *he* could answer that one. It had been plaguing him for days.

"Because you are worried about him, Master Bruce. You are afraid for him."

"Afraid? That's absurd! A lapse in security would make his life more difficult, but he's more than equipped to handle that. I think one of the only reasons he still keeps a secret identity is to protect *me*."

"And Master Timothy, and Miss Barbara, sir." Alfred continued. "However, that is not what I was referring to."

The elder gentleman took a seat across from Bruce, something rare for the proper gent. Rarer still was his address to the hero.

"Bruce, bare with me for a moment," he started candidly. "I know you are more than familiar with the concept of Word Association…"

"Alfred, I don't see what that has to do with--"

"Please, sir. Just say the first thing that comes to mind. The purpose of this exercise will soon become evident."

Bruce sighed heavily and slowly nodded his head.

Alfred gave a curt nod and began.

"Dog."

"Canine."

"Rain."

"Water."

"Criminal."

"Coward."

"Sky."

"Black."

"Son."

"Dick."

"Dick"

"Light."

"Parents."

"Death……"

Alfred calmly folded his hands in his lap.

"…Damn." Bruce said quietly.

"You associate the state of parenthood with death, sir. Perfectly understandable considering your experience. Your parents, Master Dick's, Miss Barbara's, and Master Timothy's mother…" He stood up. "And now, your son… your *light* is about to become a parent. Somewhere in you, Master Bruce, is the belief that this will lead to Master Dick's end."

Bruce steepled his fingers, once again closing his eyes.

"So what do I do?"

Alfred straightened his uniform. "I would never presume, sir." He said, slipping back into his formal role. He turned and proceeded to the door. "Though I may be pressed to remind you, Master Bruce, that a wise man does not allow himself to be hampered by his fears." He paused with his hand on the doorknob. "He works through them."

He left his young charge to be alone with his thoughts.

*****

He entered the apartment to the sound of retching coming from the lit washroom.

It didn't last long and he heard the water running a few moments later. After a minute or so, Helena emerged clicking off the light. She stopped short when she saw the dark form silhouetted against her window.

"Why don't I just put a 'welcome mat' out on the ledge?"

"Are you alright?"

She waved her hand dismissively. "Fine. It's supposed to be a sign that I'm healthy." She said sliding into a chair. "Didn't your boy tell you? We're done. I'm staying away from him, and he's staying away from… us. Your precious secrets are safe."

The Bat said nothing.

"What?! What do you want?! Do you want it in blood or something?! What do you want from me?!"

In the corner, Batman turned his back to her. She assumed he would be leaving, assured of the fact that his secret was safe. Which is why she was startled when he suddenly spoke in a low voice.

"Dick Grayson."

"What?"

"…His name is Dick Grayson. He's a rookie officer in the Bludhaven Police Department."

"…"

Helena stared at the dark form in disbelief. She looked to the floor trying to process what she had just heard… what he had just *told* her.

She looked back up, but he was gone.

#####

End Of Part 2