Chapter 3

Chapter 3

"He's coming to," Tim announced.

"Geesh," Dick moaned, "not so loud."

His attempt to move was stopped by a firm pair of hands against his shoulders. "That's far enough, young man. You will not be going anywhere for a while."

The sound of bats echoing in the distance got Dick's attention.

"Alfred?"

"Yes."

"I'm in the cave! How? Who?"

"What do you remember?" he returned, his voice soft and gentle like a spring rain.

Dick thought for a minute. "Being pushed through a skylight, then hitting a chandelier and not hitting much more after that but the wall and the floor." His hand slowly maneuvered to his head and followed the bandage that circled it, which even covered his eyes. "How bad?" the young man whispered with only a hint of worry in his voice.

"A skull fracture. A severe concussion, 7 fractured ribs, not including the three floating ribs, here on the right side. It is also my guess not all of your fractures and bruises are from last night. You really have been getting yourself hurt too often. Master Tim will keep you company while I go get Doctor Thompkins. She wants to run some tests on you while you are awake."

He listened to Alfred's footfall as it slipped away.

"Skull fracture? Hmm… that would explain why I was seeing people who weren't there." He laughed. "Seemed like I was swinging at everything and missing it all by a mile."

"That doesn't do much for the image," Tim smiled.

"It got better. At one point, I was having really blurry visions of stuff out of a science fiction movie, a Vulcan female, a Klingon bird of prey," he mumbled. "Guess I was really wigging out."

"Maybe not so wigged out as you think, bro," Tim acknowledged.

"What do you mean?" the wounded man asked, as he appeared to lose all the color in his face.

"See, when you lost communications with Babs, she called Bruce. He never made it to Metropolis. I was told to meet him here in case he needed backup, and not to leave until he was sure it wasn't just a break in communications. You and I know both know he figured whatever it was that took you out would be more than I could handle."

"Stupidity took me out. I wasn't out numbered or out gunned. I screwed up," he growled. He tried to move, but quickly regretted that decision as he clasp his fist against this head, hoping to get the world to stop spinning out of control. He lay back and continued. "One screw up after another. I seem to be really distracted lately, and I let someone get behind me… By the time I heard them, it was too late. Next thing I knew, I was struggling with some behemoth in a three-story free fall. Babs was right. There's too much going on in my life. With the PD, Bludhaven, the Titans and helping out here, I can't seem to make a move without screwing up," the older boy admitted. Sounding as if he might fall asleep any moment, he whispered, "I still don't know how I was able to get away. Please tell me I let the car's computer bring me back and not actually attempt to drive it myself."

"Actually, the car's still in town. Someone brought you back to the manor, a woman with pointed ears like a Vulcan."

"Oh, God." Dick turned sheet white.

"It's okay. She said you didn't tell her anything. She said she just followed your heart." He watched as the injured man seemed to turn even whiter still and began to struggle.

"I think I am going to be sick," he whispered.

"It's ok, really!" Tim told him as he began to worry for his friend as Dick moved around. "We know she hasn't said anything because she's upstairs. Dick, you have to calm down." He hit the 'panic' button by Dick's bedside, hoping Alfred would hurry down.

"No! I really think I'm going to throw up," he rasped. Tim managed to help him to a sitting position, and a second set of hands turned him gently to his side before he began to heave. The injured boy barely caught his breath before it began again. Tim just watched in disbelief as Bruce stood there while his son unknowingly emptied the contents of his stomach all over his designer suit. By the time he was done, the one-time Robin was too weak to even remain conscious.

Alfred and Leslie showed up shortly after Bruce did. The doctor placed medication into Dick's IV to stop the vomiting from reoccurring. Dick was gently laid on his side while Leslie continued to do a quick exam. She shook her head as she checked the shaved part of his scalp. Experts would need to be called in come morning. It looked like there was no choice. Suddenly, alarms started going off all around.

Intruder alert.

Intruder alert.

Everyone turned to find a woman standing at the top of the stairs, holding her ears to stop the loud noise and strange lights that flashed through the dark.

"What are you doing out of bed?" Leslie asked, as the computer was quieted.

"And how did you find this place?" asked another voice.

The young woman who was all too willing to fight just 16 hours ago looked as if she might cry. Her eyes seem to fade from solid black to the beautiful dark blue, which made her almost look human. Alfred placed an extra blanket over her shoulders and helped her to the chair by the console.

Bruce growled as she stared around the cave. "I want answers young lady. I want them now."

She suddenly reflected back the directness and fearlessness that he was showing. "You are the one who wears the mantel of the bat," she commented in a matter-of-fact manner back at Bruce. She watched as Leslie looked

beneath the strange tunic she awoke wearing. Leslie couldn't believe her eyes. There was no wound where she had been shot and no sign of a scar.

"I will ask you just once more, and then I will take other measures to find out what I want to know." Both Alfred and Leslie were about to object, but Bruce stopped them with a look. "Who are you? What are you and where do you come from?"

"My name is S`lea, Royal Knight to the throne of Meric. I am elfin, or at least part elfin. My soul is split in two. On my world, I am a warrior of great means. Even when I was a mere foundling, I needed for nothing, for the man who would be my father was the greatest warrior in all of Meric and my adopted brother his equal. I was called to your world by the magic of your son."

"He has no magic. What are you talking about?" the one she knew as the shadow walker insisted.

"I was searching for a demon from my world named Golnac, a dark one with great powers and an even stronger power over humans. He had vanished in the woods just east of the village of Brookdonnie. I had been searching the woodlands for many a tri-sun, when a light appeared before me and beckoned me to go through it. The strength of his need and the good of his heart pulled me through the portal. That is how I knew he was the one who called me."

"By his heart?" Alfred confirmed curiously.

"And what if I told you I don't believe you?" Bruce scowled.

"I would say I am not here for your approval," she returned. "You are not the one who I called nor are you the one I swore my sword to. As for the sword, I would like it returned."

"I am sorry, but I cannot allow you to run loose in my city with that weapon. I will return it when I feel you are not a danger to anyone."

"Then it is best you hold onto it, for you are quickly becoming my enemy.

I have not done wrong by you. I do not understand why you treat me like this."

"I don't trust you," he replied quite bluntly.

"You do not trust yourself. If you allowed someone to break through the shields you put up around you, you might get hurt as before. Despite what you want others to believe, I do not factor in your trouble, except you do not understand me."

For a moment, she thought she heard him laugh, but it vanished as quickly as it came. "And what makes you say that. MY HEART?"

"Understand this, Milord," she growled as her eyes changed back to black," I do not lie nor is this a trick. Anyone can read a heart if they are only willing to open their own. Even a closed heart can feel the pain of loss. It is best to leave yours open so one might recognize the glory of happiness when it comes. This cavern holds many secrets, the least of which is the fact that you are not as dark as you would have all around you believe."

Leslie scoffed for a moment at the child's directness, but then sat down and continued to listen.

"I know you are the master of this land and that is your young squire," she pointed at Tim, who stood next to Bruce. " The healer is as important to you as your mother, and the servant is that of father figure, even if you do not say that you love them as much if not more than your own parents because in a way you feel abandoned all others." This comment started to get a rise out of Bruce, but she refused to let him speak.

"The darkness can not hide the truth from anyone

willing to seek it. I know your son Nightwing is behind that wall. You have kept him at arm's length since you realized the pride you had for him. All this I have learned by reading the pure power of you heart. As you could not keep these secrets from me, know that I will find my sword as well."

"Your words and assumptions are based on what you were told last night. How do you know what you were told is true?"

"Because your heart tells me it is so," she replied, suddenly becoming aware of the large wall of blinking lights in front of her.

"Then it lied to you. Because Nightwing is not my son," he barked, slapping her curious hands away from the computer.

"No. Your heart cannot lie. No true heart can," she stated. "He may not, by birth, be your child, but only a fool cannot see that by the heart, you are adjoined as one as a father to his first-born son. You can lie to others and try to lie to him. You can even hurt him to keep him away, but it only gives you a greater pain that you try to avoid." Her words left everyone speechless as she walked away and wandered to the infirmary. Only Tim followed her.

"S`lea, he only wishes to protect you. Please don't be angry," he whispered as he watched her gently stroke her hand down from Dick's face and shoulder to his fingers.

"I am not angry; trust me you would know if I were. I understand too well what he feels." She quickly changed the subject. "Tell me, squire, will the healer be able to help him?" she asked, still watching in amazement as the boxes of lights beeped and hummed, as if speaking through the tethers that were attached to the unconscious man.

"I…uh… We don't know, considering how bad the injuries are. They'll be taking him in to the hospital soon," he answered unsure she was even listening. The silence between them made the monitors seem horribly loud.

She finally looked up and smiled. Gently sliding her hand across the trail of a stray tear that shown on the young squire's face, she finally broke the silence. "Such strength in such a young man. Have heart my friend. Morning will find him stronger. Do not lose your faith too soon."

"Can you help him?" Tim inquired. "Can you heal his wounds like you did your own?"

"I do not think so."

"But earlier... you helped him."

"I am not a healer. Although I do know the basics of healing, all I did was steal his pain by shutting down his mind. It is quite temporary. I have had to learn many simple tricks. My brother and His Highness, my Lord Keirn, not to mention his brother Prince Dusty, quite oft needed attending."

"The Prince's NAME was Dusty?" Tim coughed. Trying to hold off laughing.

"That was not his real name. It was the name given to him by his adopted parents and my true brother, who had found him long before he was returned to his destiny. At the time, no one knew he was the Bastard Prince, Ryan Mikal, who all thought had died many years earlier, only to find he was raised as a farmer's slave until his masters were murdered. He spent almost a Fort-season alone in the woods with only Gayden for company … so needless to say the name suited him. Few would dare call him by it save for friends. Dusty is not unlike Milord Nightwing in looks and mannerisms. He is strong of heart even when his arms betray his strength.

Nightwing is a strong name. It has a beautiful almost graceful air about it. I believe it too suits him," she smiled.

"And like your prince's, it's not his real one," Tim blurted out.

"ROBIN!" The sound of Bruce's disappointment echoed through the cave, sending the bats scattering through the dark caverns.

Tim just slapped his head with his hand.

Alfred took "Miss S`lea" back to her room, insisting that she get some rest and that come the new day, things might be able to be explained more in depth.

She could tell if he had anything to say about it, they would.

He returned to find Batman giving his young protégé a piece of his mind and a homework assignment, a book report on why it was so important not to give clues about their identities to strangers. Tim knew better than to point out the fact that the woman had seen all of them unmasked, not to mention the fact that she had spent the night at the Manor of the Dark Knight's alter ego. Tim made his good-byes, requesting that he be called if there were any changes in Dick and saying he would return as soon as possible.

The boy had barely left when a face came over the computer. The mask known as Oracle quickly faded and was replaced by the beautiful face of the Commissioner's daughter, Barbara Gordon.

"How is he?" That wasn't what she had planned to say. That wasn't even why she called she thought, but it was too late now. Everyone and their brother was going to begin to think she was worried half to death over him. Well, they would be right.

"He is resting …" Bruce returned. "We will know more in the morning."

"Well, I got the numbers you asked for and fastest flight plans. I also have a message from Dad who is a little more than worried about "Nightwing." He tried to contact you last night, but you never showed up.

So he contacted the JLA. Guess he doesn't keep up on all the superhero gossip," she quipped.

"I hope you told him I am no longer affiliated with that organization."

Babs ignored the jab… she understood too well his feelings on the subject. But now was neither the time nor the place for debate.

"He said that he thought Nightwing might be in trouble…"

"Well, he didn't call that one wrong. Still, unless Gotham is crashing to the ground again, I am not available for consultation. All I want to worry about is Dick and making sure he's going to be ok. Then, I will find this "person" and make certain it never happens again. If you were able to get copies of the tapes from the security cameras, download them to the computer. I'll look at them later. Right now, I have other pressing matters." He started to turn away, uncomfortable with the emotions he was experiencing, but he knew Barbara was struggling with them as well. Dick Grayson had become a very important light in their world. He was the light of their lives even when it seemed there would never be light again. He couldn't just walk away from her now.

"You should know that Dick will probably be going in for surgery in the morning," he whispered, as if caught up in an unwanted reality. Then, as if to hide his inner conflict, he changed the subject. "If you would, call in an anonymous tip to the police about an auto accident. They'll find an unoccupied over turned Porsche off Dead Man's Curve just south of Wayne Manor. I suppose I'll see your father soon enough." He felt the unwelcome tears begin to well up in his eyes. He didn't know what to say to her. He wasn't comfortable with this feeling; he just didn't want to care about anyone the way he did about Alfred, Leslie, Dick, Barbara and Tim. He didn't want to live with that pain again. He couldn't face her any longer. "I have to go now. Thanks Barbara." He tried to smile as he shut of the viewer, but the tear had already begun to fall. As soon the screen went black, his mind filled with images of all the other people in his life that left him. All the people he tried to push away but it never worked. How he felt when a little blue-eyed boy walked into his life and stole the lock he used to keep his heart safe from harm. That little boy that who no matter what he did to separate him from his feelings managed to wedge himself in with a smile that dulled the sunlight. The little boy that no matter how hard he pushed him a way he was always there when he needed him even after he had grown into a young man. A young man that because of his loyalty to him May never be able to do any of the things he loved and lived for.

He looked back at the medical lab where Dick slept as his mind filled with all his most hated memories and thought, "Yep, the Bruce Wayne curse strikes again." He collapsed into the chair and cried.