A Different Game 2 b:

Tim watched Dick pace their small cell. Three days had passed since they had made their first court appearance. Barbara had everyone working on the case, but there were no leads, no clues. Nothing to give anyone any hope that Bruce was still alive. Yet, Dick had continued to tightly hold on to hope. He maintained Bruce was alive. At least he had until yesterday.

Bruce's funeral was today.

Alfred had visited Dick yesterday. He told him arrangements had been made -- that Lucius Fox and the Wayne Enterprises Board had taken the responsibilities for the funeral. That was when reality set in -- hearing Alfred talk about Bruce being dead -- and that's when Dick seemed to have lost hope. Tim watched as Dick's emotions slowly begin to unravel. Dick had gone ballistic when they told him he couldn't go to the funeral. The attorneys tried to have the court allow him to go. But it was all in vain.

"What time is it?" Dick asked Tim.

"A minute later than the last time you asked me," Tim replied.

Dick continued to pace the cell and Tim continued to watch him. Stopping at the back wall, Dick placed both hands on the wall and leaned his head against the cold concrete. A loud sigh escaped his lips. Then a low soft sound of quiet sobs. Tim felt so helpless. He stood up from his bunk and walked over to Dick, placing comforting hands on Dick's shoulders.

Suddenly Dick broke from his grip and began to slam his fists into the wall -- over and over again.

"They can't do this to me! Not again!" Dick said with a crack in his voice.

"Do what again?"

"He's my father. They can't keep me locked in here away from his funeral. They can't keep me from saying good-bye. This happened last time," he said, a deep sadness filling his tone.

"Last time?" Tim asked again. He was curious, but he didn't want to pry.

Dick turned to face Tim, tears in his eyes. "When my parents died, Child Protective Services took me into custody. Placed me in JDC."

Tim nodded as Dick continued.

"They ... they forgot me," he said in a quiet voice. He sounded so lost.

"Forgot you?"

"My parents funeral, they forgot me. Left me in JDC. I didn't ... I didn't get to go. And now ... it's happening again," he said in a pain filled voice.

Tim looked at Dick. He had no idea. God, that must have been horrible. And now this! How could fate be so unkind to Dick?

Dick turned back to the wall. Again, he slammed his fists, slammed them until blood started to flow. Tim grabbed Dick's arms -- stopping his assault on the wall. Or was it his assault on himself? Dick attempted to free himself from Tim's grasp.

"Stop it!" Tim cried. "I know this is killing you! I miss him too! Everything's wrong and the whole world's gone crazy. But we've got to keep it together."

Dick stopped struggling with Tim. He turned and faced the young boy. Tim's tears mirroring his own. Dick hugged Tim to him. They were both desperately trying to hold on to something they both felt they had lost forever.

***********************************************************************

"Dinah, anything?" Oracle's voice echoed in the Black Canary's ear.

"Nada, Boss lady," Dinah responded. "Batgirl and I have searched the Manor and we don't see anything that leads to the conclusion we want."

Barbara Gordon sighed as she removed her glasses, rubbing her fingers on the bridge of her nose. The conclusion they wanted -- no needed -- the conclusion that Bruce was not dead. No clues. Azrael hadn't reported in yet, maybe he had something.

"Maybe I should call in Spoiler too? Dad's volunteered to do some detective work and see what he can get from the GCPD. I'm sure Bullock'll give him information. Even Superman's here, in his less than public persona. He's a pretty good investigative reporter. But now you'd better head back now, it's almost time."

Dinah could hear the tension in Babs' voice. The strain was beginning to show. Dinah wondered if Babs had eaten since this nightmare started? Or had she just holed herself up in that silicone tower of hers clicking away at her keyboard, trying to make sense of this topsy-turvy world. Before Dinah could say anything, she heard a buzzing in the background.

"What the hell is she doing here?" Babs growled.

"Who? She who? What's going on there?" Dinah asked, her left eyebrow arching upward.

"Later," Babs said as she cut the connection and headed toward her front door. Reaching the door, she opened it, "Yes?"

"Can I come in?" Helena Bertinelli asked.

"Do I know you?" Barbara feigned.

"Yeah, you do. And so does Dick," Helena said, then bending down and whispering, "or should I say Nightwing."

Barbara wheeled backwards away from the door. "Come in."

Helena entered the apartment and looked around. "Not many changes since I was here last."

"What do you want?" Barbara asked, irritation in her voice.

Helena sat on Barbara's sofa so they were eye to eye. "I want to help him too."

"How do you know?" Babs asked with tears in her eyes.

"I know he told you -- about US. It was just that one night. It didn't mean anything. He's yours. It was just something we both needed at the moment. But you know, we did have our clothes off. Including that mask of his," she added with a slight chuckle.

"That's surprising," Babs replied flatly. "I guess with his face all over the news, you couldn't help but know."

"No, I couldn't. But I do want to help him. Let me."

"Helena, we'll take all the help we can get. Thank you." Barbara said as her voice started to crack.

Helena reached over and took Barbara's hand. They sat in a comforting silence of understanding.

***********************************************************************

The cell door clanked open.

"You two! Out!" barked the guard.

Dick and Tim looked at each other with questioning eyes. What was going on?

"Now!" the guard yelled impatiently.

They left the cell and silently walked in the direction the guard had pointed with his nightstick in.

"Stop!" the guard called as he unlocked the door to their left. They stepped inside the opening into the small conference room. Jon Walters and Wilson Avery sat at the table, a small TV/VCR combination unit sat on the table.

"Come on in boys, we need to have a conference," Walters said as the guard closed the door.

"I'm not in the mood to talk about that tape today," Dick replied as he sat down.

"We know that," Walters stated sympathetically, "but the jailers don't. As long as we're working on your case, we can stay as long as we need."

Tim looked on quizzically. "If we're not going to work on the case, what are we going to do."

Wilson Avery patted Tim on the arm, "The funeral's going to be televised live. Since the judge wouldn't go along with letting you attend, Alfred and Barbara came up with the idea this morning that we could bring the funeral to you."

Dick felt his chest tighten. His breathing was heavy. It wasn't the same. It would never be the same. But it was better than nothing. At least, he could see and hear the funeral. And, in his heart, he'd be there. He closed his eyes and silently thanked God for Alfred and Barbara. Opening his eyes, he watched as his attorney pressed the on button. The TV was already set to GCTV whose live coverage had already started.

Suddenly, he was anxious. While he needed to attend -- or at least watch -- the funeral, his soul cried out at the error of the ceremony. They shouldn't be having a funeral. Bruce shouldn't be dead. But the old saying is that life's not fair. And it was true.

Dick watched as they went to the live feed from inside the Cathedral. Dick's breath caught in his throat as he watched the pallbearers, all Wayne Executives, bring the coffin into the sanctuary. His left hand reached out to the screen as he let out a small groan.

Tim reached over and took Dick's right hand in his. His own tears had started to flow. This made it real.

Together they sat and watched the Bishop and Wayne Enterprises' employees speak one by one. Everyone who was anyone was there. Even Lex Luthor was present. Dick thought he was going to be sick. Bruce had scared Lex out of Gotham at the end of No Man's Land, and now here he was acting like he cared Bruce was dead. All he cared about was thinking he could get his hands on Wayne Enterprises.

Tim noticed that Alfred, Leslie Barbara and the rest of the 'family' had been relegated to back seats, far from the front of the cathedral. It was maddening. The people who Bruce loved the most weren't allowed to act as HIS family at HIS funeral. Tim knew Dick noticed too, but neither of them could speak.

Only once did Tim hear a word come from Dick. It was hardly above a whisper. "Dad."

Lucius Fox was the last speaker to eulogize Bruce. Dick smiled slightly as Lucius told stories about trying to keep Bruce interested in business meetings, about how Bruce helped people through his philanthropic contributions, about how Bruce loved Gotham, and fought for the city before and after No Man's Land. If only he knew how Bruce had fought for Gotham DURING the No Man's Land, and every night before and since.

Lucius talked about Bruce's relationship with Alfred and Leslie, who had raised him. Thankfully, someone acknowledged their presence and importance in Bruce's life.

"... And finally, I want to say what a wonderful, loving father Bruce Wayne was to his adopted son..." Lucius started.

Dick looked up. Through tear filled eyes, he tried to smile. He was nodding his head in agreement as Lucius continued to speak.

"... Jason Todd Wayne. Jason, who like Bruce, was taken too soon from those of us who cared for them. Who..."

Dick's mouth dropped open. To Jason. AND? What about to him? Bruce was his father too. He hadn't been mentioned. Not once. Not by anyone. As if he didn't exist. As if his relationship to Bruce had never existed. He ran his hand across his forehead, back and forth, as if he was massaging a pain from his head. But the pain was in his heart, and he knew he couldn't make it go away. Would it ever go away?

to be continued ....