Title REDEMPTION
Author Charlene Edwards
Disclaimer Characters and concepts in this story are owned by DC Comics, Warner Brothers, and Pressman Entertainment, et al, and not me (more's the pity). The merger of the two, however is ALL mine. (Believe it or not, I've yet to see the movie The Crow lol but I plan to. I have seen the TV show and some of the comics.)
Rating: R
Story Synopsis: This is a Nightwing/The Crow crossover ELSEWORLD story. THANKS to Noel and Kat for beta'ing and encouraging me with this.
REDEMPTION:
Lightning flashed in the sky as a heavy rain fell on the city streets. Three men in trench coats, their hands in their pockets, walked in the front door of the Gotham building known as the Clocktower. Steadily they walked to the elevator; the tallest of the three, the man wearing the hat, pushed the button. The lighted numbers methodically counted down to one. The doors slid open and the three men walked into the elevator. The doors closed behind them. The lighted numbers started climbing.
***********************************************************************
"Hey Babs," Dick began as he sat down beside her on the sofa. Placing his arm around her shoulder, he pulled her close to him. "Why don't we go to Bruce's beach house next weekend? I'm not working, unless Torque escapes -- again."
"Sounds nice," she said as she snuggled against him, placing her head on his chest.
"This is so nice."
"What?" she asked.
"Us. Right now we seem so ... normal."
"Yep, just wondering when the next supervillian's going to pop up." she chuckled softly.
"Well, normal for us," he countered with a wide smile. He leaned over and kissed her on the head. "I love you."
"I know. I love you too."
The sound of a gunshot resounded through the building. Dick sprang up from the sofa as the door came crashing down. As he headed toward the three intruders, the man wearing the hat raised his gun and calmly shot Dick in the chest.
The searing pain sent Dick backwards as the bullet tore into his flesh. He heard Barbara scream. He clutched at the wound. His red blood seeped through his fingers. Looking up he clearly saw the man who had shot him.
"Jo ... Joker ..."
"Thought I'd finish a job I started a few years ago," he said maniacally as he walked over to Barbara. His laughter echoing throughout the room.
"No!" she cried.
"Babs!" Dick started to rise. The pain was excruciating. There had been no body armor to absorb this shot. He needed to be in a hospital, but that could wait.
"Boys, " Joker said to his men, "throw out the trash." Joker turned and shot Dick again. This time in the knee. Barbara screamed again as she watched Dick fall for a second time.
Joker's men grabbed Dick. He tried to struggle, but his injuries were too great. He couldn't fight them off.
"I bet Mr. Joker'd let you watch if you ask nice," the burly henchman, with a leering smile, said to Dick.
"Go to hell," Dick growled out.
"You first," the man replied as he and the other henchman lifted Dick into the air. With a heave, they threw Dick out the window. Barbara's scream echoed in his head.
Broken glass flew into Dick's skin. Each tiny shard was another knife tearing into his body as he and the shower of glass fell toward the street. He had flown this drop before, but he always had his de-cel lines. This time he had nothing. No hope. His thoughts were of his family -- Bruce, Alfred, Tim, and Barbara. Barbara.
Blackness.
***********************************************************************
Commissioner Aiken stood atop police headquarters. The Bat Signal in the sky. He never heard the footsteps as the Dark Knight approached, but he felt the change in the air.
"The worst part of this job," Aiken began, "is having to tell someone a loved one is dead. But when you have to tell a friend his child has been murdered. You're lucky, you don't have that part of the job." Aiken turned to face Batman. "I had to do that tonight. I had to tell a friend of mine, and a friend of yours, that his daughter was raped and beaten to death."
"Who?"
Aiken continued seemingly oblivious to Batman's question. "Jim Gordon's already suffered through enough, now to suffer through this ..."
"Jim?" Batman replied as he felt his stomach start to knot. "Barbara?"
"Yes. Barbara and her boyfriend were killed tonight."
"Boyfriend?" Batman asked as he felt the bile rising in his throat.
"Nice kid from what I hear. Dick Grayson, Bruce Wayne's adopted son."
"How?" he managed to ask, desperately trying to hide the shortness of breath he felt. His chest was so tight, his heart racing. Aiken was wrong. He had to be.
"The boy was shot multiple times in Barbara's apartment before they tossed him out the window. We don't know yet if he was alive or dead when they did that. The boy was barely recognizable. We only identified him by his fingerprints. He was a cop, you know. In Bludhaven. But a good cop I hear. You help us find the sonovabitch responsible for this," Aiken said. When he turned around, Batman was gone.
***********************************************************************
Batman sank into the seat of the Batmobile.
"Home," he said having the autopilot steer the car toward the Batcave. He reached up and pulled off his mask. He felt a hot stinging behind his eyes. His chest was so tight. His stomach was nauseous. "God, this can't be happening. It's a mistake. It has to be a mistake. They can't be dead."
The Batmobile roared past the Clock Tower on it's way back to the BatCave. He saw the yellow police tape and he turned away.
"It's a mistake."
***********************************************************************
"Hey Alfie, watch this," Tim said as he started a new series of acrobatic movements.
"Very good Master Timothy."
"Dick's been teaching me that one. I can't wait to show him that I've got it down."
The Batmobile roared into its parking space in the Cave. Bruce stepped out of the car. His face ashen. Alfred and Tim both noticed that Bruce wore no mask.
"Master Bruce?"
"Tim, have you heard from Dick?" Please let him be in Bludhaven, please let him be in Bludhaven he silently prayed.
"Yeah, earlier. He's taking the night off, he and Babs are doing the couple thing."
Bruce felt his head spin as the weight of the truth pressed in on him. His legs went out from under him and he crashed to his knees. The pain he has experienced in his life, physical and emotional, the loss of Jason and his parents, none of that prepared him for this pain. This was unbearable. This was his child. A guttural scream echoed from him, his pain escaping in verbal form.
"Bruce ..." Alfred said as he walked over to the man he raised. "Son?"
"He's dead Alfred. Dick's dead."
"Nooooo," Tim cried. "No, I talked with him earlier. He's at Babs. I'll call Babs."
"They're both dead," Bruce said. Then, looking into Alfred's eyes he asked, "What am I going to do?"
***********************************************************************
Silently he moved into Gotham City's morgue. Walking past row after row of the morgue's vaults until he found the two vaults he sought. His gloved hand slowly pressed against the cold steel door. His hand lingered there a moment before moving to the door's handle.
"Side by side. Just the way they would want it," he thought as he opened the door. He pulled out the body tray, the black body bag still secured. Moving his black gloved hand toward the zipper, his hand faltered. Closing his eyes, he breathed deeply. Why did he feel the need to do this? What was it about him that forced him to face his pain? He pulled the zipper back.
Her face was bruised and swollen. He lightly traced her face with his gloved finger. He felt her auburn hair, it still seemed soft. Then he noticed that lividity had set it on her arms. She had used them to try and protect herself from the blows. She couldn't defend herself. Slowly he removed some skin samples from under her fingernails. It was obvious that Barbara had scratched at least one of her attackers.
It was easier for him to focus on the case than to accept the reality of the situation.
Zipping the bag back, he gently slid the body tray back and closed the door. Silently, he moved to the second vault. His hand slightly trembled as he reached for the handle of the vault. Closing his eyes and breathing deep, he opened the door. Commissioner Aiken's voice echoed in his mind: "The boy was barely recognizable. We only identified him by his fingerprints." He placed his hands on the body bag, and after a moment, he pulled the zipper.
Batman didn't understand his own emotions. Emotions were something he thought he lost when his parents died. It wasn't until that raven haired little boy came into his life that he found he still had his. How could he lose his light? How could he survive without him? Yet, as much as his soul ached, for some strange reason, he seemed at peace here with Dick.
"How can I let you go? How can I go on without you?" he asked before pulling the bag back.
"Batman."
Batman stood motionless as he heard the approaching footsteps.
"Azrael."
"Alfred sent me."
"How did you know to come here?"
"One does not have to be the world's greatest detective to know where you would be. But my friend, you do not need to stay here. You should not continue this."
"I'm ... looking for clues," Batman responded trying to stay detached. "I found ..."
"Now is not the time for that my friend. It is time for you to grieve. Don't continue this. Remember him as he was," Azrael said as he walked over and rezipped the bag. "Let us return home." Azrael closed the vault and turned to leave. He turned back when he realized that the Batman had not moved. Silently he stood vigil by his friend.
Finally, after unknown moments of still silence, Batman's gloved hand reached out touching the vault.
"My boy," he whispered.
***********************************************************************
Falling. Falling. He continued to fall. Shouldn't he have hit the ground by now? Falling, he saw not the Gotham street that should be below him, but a puddle of water, a large puddle. He crashed into the puddle, amazingly unhurt. Soaking wet, he stood.
"Where am I?" Dick asked as he looked around. He seemed to be in a forest. This wasn't right. This couldn't be right. A black crow flew before him. He followed the bird to a swinging bridge over a vast cavern. He felt a connection with the bird, a strange connection. A river flowed by, hundreds of feet below him. Wherever he was, it was beautiful.
"Dick!"
He looked to the other side of the bridge. He saw her standing there, so beautiful. Standing? How?
"Babs?"
She ran to him. As she did, he found himself running to her. He grabbed her, pulling her to him in a tight embrace and a passionate kiss.
"I love you. How are you walking?"
"Dick, I think we're dead."
"What?"
"I think we're dead."
"But we're together."
The black crow called out with his loud caw. Dick turned to the bird. He seemed to understand the animal. There was that connection. As he watched the bird fly below him, he felt as if he could see through the bird's eyes. He had to follow the bird. He didn't want to. He didn't want to leave Barbara. But he had no choice. The bird called to him. Their souls were connected. Tied together as if my some invisible tether.
"Babs, I ... I have to go. I have to go back. I ... I have to follow the crow."
"I know. I don't know how I know this, but I just do. I think I read it once, but I can't remember. What I remember is that once people believed that when someone dies, a crow carries their soul to the land of the dead. That's where we are now. But sometimes, something so bad happens that a terrible sadness is carried with it and the soul can't rest. Then sometimes, just sometimes, the crow can bring the soul back and put the wrong things right."
"That's what I feel, Babs. I'm so angry right now. Not that we're together. I love being with you, wherever we are. But ... angry at what happened to us. Angry that our life was taken from us. Angry that I had to leave Bruce. You know what our deaths will do to him. Babs, it's something else too. I want retribution."
"You have to do that Dick. You have to make things right. I'll wait for you here. I love you Dick."
Instinctively, he jumped up on the bridge and dived off into the unknown, following the flying crow. A swirling, multicolored vortex opened up below the bridge. The crow and Dick both flew through the swirling lights. In an instant they were gone.
"I'll wait for you here Dick," Babs whispered as a tear trickled from her eye, "for as long as it takes."
TO BE CONTINUED ...
Author Charlene Edwards
Disclaimer Characters and concepts in this story are owned by DC Comics, Warner Brothers, and Pressman Entertainment, et al, and not me (more's the pity). The merger of the two, however is ALL mine. (Believe it or not, I've yet to see the movie The Crow lol but I plan to. I have seen the TV show and some of the comics.)
Rating: R
Story Synopsis: This is a Nightwing/The Crow crossover ELSEWORLD story. THANKS to Noel and Kat for beta'ing and encouraging me with this.
REDEMPTION:
Lightning flashed in the sky as a heavy rain fell on the city streets. Three men in trench coats, their hands in their pockets, walked in the front door of the Gotham building known as the Clocktower. Steadily they walked to the elevator; the tallest of the three, the man wearing the hat, pushed the button. The lighted numbers methodically counted down to one. The doors slid open and the three men walked into the elevator. The doors closed behind them. The lighted numbers started climbing.
***********************************************************************
"Hey Babs," Dick began as he sat down beside her on the sofa. Placing his arm around her shoulder, he pulled her close to him. "Why don't we go to Bruce's beach house next weekend? I'm not working, unless Torque escapes -- again."
"Sounds nice," she said as she snuggled against him, placing her head on his chest.
"This is so nice."
"What?" she asked.
"Us. Right now we seem so ... normal."
"Yep, just wondering when the next supervillian's going to pop up." she chuckled softly.
"Well, normal for us," he countered with a wide smile. He leaned over and kissed her on the head. "I love you."
"I know. I love you too."
The sound of a gunshot resounded through the building. Dick sprang up from the sofa as the door came crashing down. As he headed toward the three intruders, the man wearing the hat raised his gun and calmly shot Dick in the chest.
The searing pain sent Dick backwards as the bullet tore into his flesh. He heard Barbara scream. He clutched at the wound. His red blood seeped through his fingers. Looking up he clearly saw the man who had shot him.
"Jo ... Joker ..."
"Thought I'd finish a job I started a few years ago," he said maniacally as he walked over to Barbara. His laughter echoing throughout the room.
"No!" she cried.
"Babs!" Dick started to rise. The pain was excruciating. There had been no body armor to absorb this shot. He needed to be in a hospital, but that could wait.
"Boys, " Joker said to his men, "throw out the trash." Joker turned and shot Dick again. This time in the knee. Barbara screamed again as she watched Dick fall for a second time.
Joker's men grabbed Dick. He tried to struggle, but his injuries were too great. He couldn't fight them off.
"I bet Mr. Joker'd let you watch if you ask nice," the burly henchman, with a leering smile, said to Dick.
"Go to hell," Dick growled out.
"You first," the man replied as he and the other henchman lifted Dick into the air. With a heave, they threw Dick out the window. Barbara's scream echoed in his head.
Broken glass flew into Dick's skin. Each tiny shard was another knife tearing into his body as he and the shower of glass fell toward the street. He had flown this drop before, but he always had his de-cel lines. This time he had nothing. No hope. His thoughts were of his family -- Bruce, Alfred, Tim, and Barbara. Barbara.
Blackness.
***********************************************************************
Commissioner Aiken stood atop police headquarters. The Bat Signal in the sky. He never heard the footsteps as the Dark Knight approached, but he felt the change in the air.
"The worst part of this job," Aiken began, "is having to tell someone a loved one is dead. But when you have to tell a friend his child has been murdered. You're lucky, you don't have that part of the job." Aiken turned to face Batman. "I had to do that tonight. I had to tell a friend of mine, and a friend of yours, that his daughter was raped and beaten to death."
"Who?"
Aiken continued seemingly oblivious to Batman's question. "Jim Gordon's already suffered through enough, now to suffer through this ..."
"Jim?" Batman replied as he felt his stomach start to knot. "Barbara?"
"Yes. Barbara and her boyfriend were killed tonight."
"Boyfriend?" Batman asked as he felt the bile rising in his throat.
"Nice kid from what I hear. Dick Grayson, Bruce Wayne's adopted son."
"How?" he managed to ask, desperately trying to hide the shortness of breath he felt. His chest was so tight, his heart racing. Aiken was wrong. He had to be.
"The boy was shot multiple times in Barbara's apartment before they tossed him out the window. We don't know yet if he was alive or dead when they did that. The boy was barely recognizable. We only identified him by his fingerprints. He was a cop, you know. In Bludhaven. But a good cop I hear. You help us find the sonovabitch responsible for this," Aiken said. When he turned around, Batman was gone.
***********************************************************************
Batman sank into the seat of the Batmobile.
"Home," he said having the autopilot steer the car toward the Batcave. He reached up and pulled off his mask. He felt a hot stinging behind his eyes. His chest was so tight. His stomach was nauseous. "God, this can't be happening. It's a mistake. It has to be a mistake. They can't be dead."
The Batmobile roared past the Clock Tower on it's way back to the BatCave. He saw the yellow police tape and he turned away.
"It's a mistake."
***********************************************************************
"Hey Alfie, watch this," Tim said as he started a new series of acrobatic movements.
"Very good Master Timothy."
"Dick's been teaching me that one. I can't wait to show him that I've got it down."
The Batmobile roared into its parking space in the Cave. Bruce stepped out of the car. His face ashen. Alfred and Tim both noticed that Bruce wore no mask.
"Master Bruce?"
"Tim, have you heard from Dick?" Please let him be in Bludhaven, please let him be in Bludhaven he silently prayed.
"Yeah, earlier. He's taking the night off, he and Babs are doing the couple thing."
Bruce felt his head spin as the weight of the truth pressed in on him. His legs went out from under him and he crashed to his knees. The pain he has experienced in his life, physical and emotional, the loss of Jason and his parents, none of that prepared him for this pain. This was unbearable. This was his child. A guttural scream echoed from him, his pain escaping in verbal form.
"Bruce ..." Alfred said as he walked over to the man he raised. "Son?"
"He's dead Alfred. Dick's dead."
"Nooooo," Tim cried. "No, I talked with him earlier. He's at Babs. I'll call Babs."
"They're both dead," Bruce said. Then, looking into Alfred's eyes he asked, "What am I going to do?"
***********************************************************************
Silently he moved into Gotham City's morgue. Walking past row after row of the morgue's vaults until he found the two vaults he sought. His gloved hand slowly pressed against the cold steel door. His hand lingered there a moment before moving to the door's handle.
"Side by side. Just the way they would want it," he thought as he opened the door. He pulled out the body tray, the black body bag still secured. Moving his black gloved hand toward the zipper, his hand faltered. Closing his eyes, he breathed deeply. Why did he feel the need to do this? What was it about him that forced him to face his pain? He pulled the zipper back.
Her face was bruised and swollen. He lightly traced her face with his gloved finger. He felt her auburn hair, it still seemed soft. Then he noticed that lividity had set it on her arms. She had used them to try and protect herself from the blows. She couldn't defend herself. Slowly he removed some skin samples from under her fingernails. It was obvious that Barbara had scratched at least one of her attackers.
It was easier for him to focus on the case than to accept the reality of the situation.
Zipping the bag back, he gently slid the body tray back and closed the door. Silently, he moved to the second vault. His hand slightly trembled as he reached for the handle of the vault. Closing his eyes and breathing deep, he opened the door. Commissioner Aiken's voice echoed in his mind: "The boy was barely recognizable. We only identified him by his fingerprints." He placed his hands on the body bag, and after a moment, he pulled the zipper.
Batman didn't understand his own emotions. Emotions were something he thought he lost when his parents died. It wasn't until that raven haired little boy came into his life that he found he still had his. How could he lose his light? How could he survive without him? Yet, as much as his soul ached, for some strange reason, he seemed at peace here with Dick.
"How can I let you go? How can I go on without you?" he asked before pulling the bag back.
"Batman."
Batman stood motionless as he heard the approaching footsteps.
"Azrael."
"Alfred sent me."
"How did you know to come here?"
"One does not have to be the world's greatest detective to know where you would be. But my friend, you do not need to stay here. You should not continue this."
"I'm ... looking for clues," Batman responded trying to stay detached. "I found ..."
"Now is not the time for that my friend. It is time for you to grieve. Don't continue this. Remember him as he was," Azrael said as he walked over and rezipped the bag. "Let us return home." Azrael closed the vault and turned to leave. He turned back when he realized that the Batman had not moved. Silently he stood vigil by his friend.
Finally, after unknown moments of still silence, Batman's gloved hand reached out touching the vault.
"My boy," he whispered.
***********************************************************************
Falling. Falling. He continued to fall. Shouldn't he have hit the ground by now? Falling, he saw not the Gotham street that should be below him, but a puddle of water, a large puddle. He crashed into the puddle, amazingly unhurt. Soaking wet, he stood.
"Where am I?" Dick asked as he looked around. He seemed to be in a forest. This wasn't right. This couldn't be right. A black crow flew before him. He followed the bird to a swinging bridge over a vast cavern. He felt a connection with the bird, a strange connection. A river flowed by, hundreds of feet below him. Wherever he was, it was beautiful.
"Dick!"
He looked to the other side of the bridge. He saw her standing there, so beautiful. Standing? How?
"Babs?"
She ran to him. As she did, he found himself running to her. He grabbed her, pulling her to him in a tight embrace and a passionate kiss.
"I love you. How are you walking?"
"Dick, I think we're dead."
"What?"
"I think we're dead."
"But we're together."
The black crow called out with his loud caw. Dick turned to the bird. He seemed to understand the animal. There was that connection. As he watched the bird fly below him, he felt as if he could see through the bird's eyes. He had to follow the bird. He didn't want to. He didn't want to leave Barbara. But he had no choice. The bird called to him. Their souls were connected. Tied together as if my some invisible tether.
"Babs, I ... I have to go. I have to go back. I ... I have to follow the crow."
"I know. I don't know how I know this, but I just do. I think I read it once, but I can't remember. What I remember is that once people believed that when someone dies, a crow carries their soul to the land of the dead. That's where we are now. But sometimes, something so bad happens that a terrible sadness is carried with it and the soul can't rest. Then sometimes, just sometimes, the crow can bring the soul back and put the wrong things right."
"That's what I feel, Babs. I'm so angry right now. Not that we're together. I love being with you, wherever we are. But ... angry at what happened to us. Angry that our life was taken from us. Angry that I had to leave Bruce. You know what our deaths will do to him. Babs, it's something else too. I want retribution."
"You have to do that Dick. You have to make things right. I'll wait for you here. I love you Dick."
Instinctively, he jumped up on the bridge and dived off into the unknown, following the flying crow. A swirling, multicolored vortex opened up below the bridge. The crow and Dick both flew through the swirling lights. In an instant they were gone.
"I'll wait for you here Dick," Babs whispered as a tear trickled from her eye, "for as long as it takes."
TO BE CONTINUED ...
