NOTE: denotes when characters are speaking in Spanish.

A Different Game: 5a

"Eww, Robbie, man, you want me to do what?"

"You heard me. I need you to dig up Bruce's grave. Tim and I could do it, but with the time it would take us we'd probably get caught."

"Dude, this is sick," Roy interjected. "This is grave robbing."

"This is necessary," Dick replied steely, his blue eyes hard and resolved. Picking up the shovel that was leaning against the tombstone, he handed it to Wally.

Wally sighed. There was no use arguing. Dick was right. He was always right. He started digging. Seconds later, he stopped. He was finished. He pulled himself up from the grave, wiping the dirt from his clothes. He walked over to Dick who took the shovel from his hands. "Are you sure you wanna --"

"You and Roy take Tim over there," Dick said as he pointed to a tree about twenty yards away from the now open grave.

"What'd ya mean 'take Tim over there'? I'm not going anywhere. I'm staying right here and helping you," Tim said as Roy grabbed him by the arm and started pulling him away.

Dick took the outstretched shovel from Wally and silently jumped down into the grave. He landed on top of the elegant mahogany coffin.

Wally walked over and grabbed Tim's other arm, helping Roy pull the struggling younger boy away. Tim was struggling against the two Titans who held fast to their duty to their leader. "Lemme go, I gotta -- gotta help him! He can't do this alone!" Wally and Roy silently held the struggling boy until he grew still.

Dick rubbed his hand reverently across the lid of the coffin. With a deep sigh, he took the shovel and broke the lock. He pulled his evidence collecting kit out of his jacket pocket. He wanted to have everything ready before he opened the lid. Pulling a surgical mask out of his back pocket, he put it on. Steeling himself, he opened the lid. Moving quickly he gathered the evidence that he needed to run the tests.

Putting away the collected evidence, he closed the lid. After taking a moment to compose himself, he pulled himself up from the grave. Roy, Wally and Tim started walking to him as they saw him emerge. Tim moved ahead of the other two, in almost a jog, to reach Dick. He noticed how pale Dick was.

"Are you okay?" he asked tentatively.

Dick silently handed the evidence kit to Tim and started walking away. He handed the shovel to Wally as he continued walking. He held his hand up in the all stop position as he saw Wally and Roy opening their mouths to speak. He kept walking. Roy started to follow him, but he waved him off as he moved away.

Tim moved to Wally and Roy. "He's not okay."

"He needs some alone time," Roy responded as he put his arm around Tim's shoulder. They turned around to watch Wally fill in the grave.

Dick walked past the tree, further into the dark cemetery, until he was sure he was alone. Then he fell to his knees, he retched. The bile burned his throat as it came up. He continued vomiting until he was sure there was nothing left in his system to come up. His mind knew it was only a few minutes, but it felt like years.

He berated himself mentally. He was a professional, he should be able to handle this. But ... but this was different. That was his father. Or at least, it may be. They said it was. He prayed it wasn't. If that was Bruce, or what was left of Bruce, he would never get that image from his mind. It would haunt his nightmares for the rest of his life. Bruce didn't deserve that. Bruce didn't deserve any of what they claimed had happened to him. God, please let them be wrong.

Dick pushed himself up with his arms. They felt so weak. He sat in the damp grass, wiping his mouth with his hand and rubbing his hand in the grass. Breathing deeply, he tried to calm himself. But the tears came unbidden to his eyes. He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out his cell phone. He dialed a secured number.

"Oracle," he heard in his ear.

"Babs," he cried weakly.

"Dick?" she asked, knowing it was him. "Where are you? Are you okay? You sound upset?"

"Babs, I ... needed to talk to you. Needed you. Babs, please tell me Bruce isn't dead. Please," his voice pleaded with her. He sounded like a child, like the little boy she used to baby-sit.

"Dick, what's ... where are you?"

"The cemetery. Babs, I ... I love you," he said as he wiped his tears with his hand.

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

Entering the Batcave later that morning, Dick started running a D.N.A. spectrograph while Tim watched the morgue's surveillance videos. The batmobile roared into its parking spot. Dick and Tim turned as Batman emerged from the car. Dick's breath caught in his throat for a moment, until Jean-Paul pulled the cowl off.

"Mes amis, I am glad to see you both."

"Thanks," Tim said with a smile as he turned around to finish his task.

Jean-Paul walked towards Dick. "And you. D.N.A. analysis?" he asked seeing what Dick was working on.

"Just double checking the results," Dick replied. As he continued to watch the spectrograph, he added, "Thanks for filling in for him."

"My pleasure. I am filling in for you as well. This is your right, I am just holding things in place until you can assume the duties."

Dick smiled slightly, "Thanks."

Tim continued to study the videos, when he saw someone who caught his eye. "Enhance sector UL123 times twenty." He studied the face before him and started hitting keys on the computer running a search.

"Do you think the D.N.A. results were tampered with? Dr. Thompkins ran a separate test --"

"With what the morgue supplied her," Dick added.

"But how could the samples be contaminated?" Jean-Paul inquired.

Within a few minutes, the computer found a match. The blond man in the morgue wearing an orderly's uniform matched the criminal, whose real name was unknown, called "The Bird." He was a known associate of Bane's.

"I think I know! Dick, come here!" Tim shouted excitedly.

Dick and Jean-Paul both headed toward the batcomputer. Dick's eyes narrowed as he grew closer to the computer. "Bane," escaped his lips.

"That's what I'm thinking since bird-boy here's one of his pals. If it turns out the D.N.A. was doctored, we've got a suspect."

"And Bane knows who Bruce really is," Dick added.

"As well as how to enter the Manor through the cave," Jean-Paul said joining in.

"Call Barbara, have her see if she can locate Bane or any of his associates in the city or any records as to whether they were in the city in late July," Dick ordered as he headed back to the spectrograph which had started beeping. He held his breath as he waited for the results of the test to appear on the screen.

"NEGATIVE" flashed on the screen. The test was negative. The body in the grave was NOT Bruce's.

Dick felt his eyes brim with tears. He squeezed his eyes shut and offered a silent prayer of thanks. Dick knew this didn't mean Bruce was safe, or even alive. He knew enough to not get his hopes up, but at least, now, he could hope again.

"It's not Bruce. The body in the grave isn't Bruce," he announced as he walked to the Batcomputer.

Tim and Jean-Paul turned to face him. A wide smile grew on Tim's face as he leapt from his chair and ran to Dick. He threw his arms around Dick in a tight hug. Dick hugged the boy back.

Barbara's face on the screen smiled at them. "Hey, I think I have something. A private plane left Gotham July 28 heading toward Mexico. This plane never landed in Mexico however. Seems it refueled in San Antonio and landed in Santa Prisca."

"That's where Bane's from. We're going to Santa Prisca, " Dick replied.

"Dick, Tim," Barbara began tentatively, tears in her eyes, "I'm so sorry."

"Sorry about what babe?" Dick asked.

"That we didn't find this. That we didn't see this. We failed you."

Dick's face grew solemn as he approached the computer console. "No you didn't. You, Jean-Paul, Cass, Dinah, Clark, your Dad, you all did the best you could. But with the D.N.A. tests saying the body was Bruce's it was hard to figure out what was going on."

"Look at how quickly you two have figured it out," she replied.

"Hey, we haven't figured anything out yet. Just that the body in the grave isn't Bruce's. Doesn't mean that Bruce is okay. And there may be a connection with Bane."

"So, how are you planning on going to Santa Prisca?" Barbara asked.

"On a plane," Dick replied with a wide grin.

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

Dick and Tim slept the day away in their rooms in the Batcave. When darkness came, they started moving. They had taken all the equipment with them that they felt they may have needed. Leaving the Nightbird in the cave, they 'appropriated' one of Bruce's SUV's and headed off toward the Gotham City Airport. They pulled near the private hanger housing Bruce Wayne's private jet. The jet that was actually the BatWing.

"Well, Jackie boy," Dick started in his best Robbie Malone accent, "are ya ready to commit your first federal offense?"

Tim looked at Dick with a wide grin, "Might as well, I've already been sentenced to life, it's not like they can sentence me to any more time."

Staying in the shadows, they quickly approached the plane and climbed aboard. Checking the instruments, Dick saw that the plane was fully fueled and ready for take off. Sitting in the pilot's seat, Dick started readying the plane for take-off.

Tim watched out the window, working as look-out. "Guards are coming," he said.

"Figures. We can't get a break," Dick muttered under his breath. He hit the keys automatically locking the plane. "Sit down and put your seat belt on," Dick ordered. "Oracle, can you act as radar control tower for us?"

"Hunk wonder, I'm here to serve," she replied. "Looks like you're clear for take-off from runway three. And I'll make sure no one else gets clearance for that area."

"Remind me, that I owe you, when we get outta this."

"Oh, don't worry Short Pants, I'm keeping a tab and I intend to collect."

His grin grew wide, "I can't wait to pay ya, Red."

Tim made a face, "Geez, you two, why don't you wait till you have a room. Kid on board ya know."

The guards were trying to reach the plane, their guns drawn, when Dick started pulling away from the hanger. They were shouting at the plane and even fired a few shots, but the plane was on the move. He was a little under fourteen hours short of finding some answers. Nothing, short of Superman, was stopping that plane. And Dick knew Superman wasn't going to be stopping him.

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

They walked through the streets of Santa Prisca, visiting the different taverns, cantinas, and haciendas looking for any clues they could find. They weren't finding any. They stopped in a little tavern near the constabulary to order lunch. A young girl, in her early twenties, with long black hair falling down her back, waited on them.

"Can I get you anything else?" she asked them.

"No, thanks," Dick replied, then thinking about it a minute asked, "unless you could answer a few questions. We're looking some friends."

"Americans, like yourself?"

"Not all," Dick responded pulling out the photographs of Bane and the Bird, as well as a photograph of Bruce.

"I've seen him," she said pointing to the Bird. "He and a very large man entered the constabulary's office over a month ago. He ate here."

"Was anyone else with them?" Tim asked.

"They had a prisoner with them. I assumed they were bounty hunters."

"Prisoner? Did you get a good look at him?"

"No, it was very dark, very late. I was leaving work. He seemed to be injured."

"How long ago was this?" Tim asked, holding his breath for the answer.

"Two or three months ago. In the summer."

Dick looked at the girl, "Would the prisoner still be at the constabulary's?"

"No. All prisoners are transferred to Pena Duro prison. They transfer prisoners every Friday."

"Thank you," Dick replied and handed the girl an American hundred dollar bill.

Dick and Tim looked at each other, hope in their eyes. "Well, bro," Tim began, "What do we do now?"

"We break into Pena Duro," he replied with a wide grin.

To be continued ...