Redemption Part 2:
A swirling vortex opened up and a body tumbled down from the sky. He crashed into the fountain in Robinson Park. He stood up, drenched, water dripped from his bare chest. Looking down, he realized that he wore only a pair of jeans. Stumbling out of the fountain, he looked around the park.
"Where ... how ...," he placed his hand to his head. It seemed to spin. Then he heard the caw. Looking up, his eyes met with those of the great black bird. Then the bird took flight. Instinctively, without understanding why, he followed the bird.
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Bruce Wayne walked into the house. He had knocked several times, but received no answer. Bruce was worried about his friend. They were suppose to meet at Bruce's office. Today was the first anniversary of Dick and Barbara's death's. Walking into the living room, he saw Jim Gordon sitting in the dark room. Jim held a photograph of Barbara and Sarah, his left hand gently tracing their faces. His gun resting peacefully in his lap.
"Jim?"
"It's been a year. Doesn't seem like my little girl's been gone a year."
"I know." he said quietly moving to sit beside his friend.
"I miss them. Barbara, Sarah. I miss them both."
"I know."
"It would be easier to just ..."
"No. Jim, it wouldn't. Not for you, or for any of us you'd leave behind."
Jim Gordon looked into his friends caring eyes.
"You do know, don't you? You understand the pain."
"Yes. Losing my parents was a pain that I lived with my entire adult life. It drove me in ... everything I ever did. But the loss of my son, of Dick. Well, the loss of a child is unimaginable, unbearable. It was worse than I ever dreamed pain could be. But Jim, we endure. We have to. They live in our hearts and in our memories. Without us, where would they live?"
Jim lowered his head into his hands. Without looking he handed the gun to his friend. Bruce took it and, leaving the sofa, walked with the gun into another room. Returning, he gently placed his hand on his friend's shoulder.
"Ready to go?"
"Yes. Let's go."
***********************************************************************
Roy walked around the Titan's conference table to the image of Nightwing gracing the wall of fallen Titans. Standing under the image, he looked up into the face of his friend.
"I never thought you'd be up there Batboy. It's not fair, you know. Damn it! You didn't even get to go fighting the bad guys. It's hard without you, but I'm trying. Lian misses her Uncle Dick. And so does her daddy."
"We all do Roy," Wally said walking beside his friend. A scarlet gloved hand touched Nightwing's image.
"What are you doing here, Wally?"
"Same as you," he said with a sigh. Together they stood in silence for a moment. Then Wally continued, "So, how's Bludhaven?"
"Same ol' same ol'. That's one corrupt town. But I think I'm making headway. At least, I'm keeping things at the level Dick had gotten the city to before ... "
"Yeah."
***********************************************************************
He walked through the city streets. Where was he headed? He wasn't sure. He just followed the crow. The Clocktower loomed in the distance. As he walked through the darkened city streets, unconnected images flashed through his mind. A beautiful woman with red hair and emerald green eyes; a man dressed as a bat accompanied by a multi-colored clad young boy. What did these flashes of ... what were they, memories ... mean? Who were the people he was seeing?
A scream echoed through the night. He turned in the direction of the scream and walked into an alley. A woman was surrounded by four young men. Gang members by their clothes. As he approached he could hear the woman pleading with her captors. He also heard the men taunting her.
"Hey babe, don't fight it. You'll enjoy it," one of the gang members said.
"I don't think so."
The gang members turned toward the voice. They saw the lone young man; he was shirtless and his jeans were still wet. He didn't appear very threatening to the gang.
"Go away. This ain't your business."
"I'm making it my business," he said, as his ice blue eyes took on a hard edge.
One of the gang members moved from the woman toward the intruder, a knife in his hand. With unbelievable speed, the shirtless young man hit out with his bare hands, disarming his attacker. Then he shot out with a straight kick into the gang members chest. A kick so hard that it sent the recipient flying into the air. When he hit the wall, he fell to the ground unconscious.
At this the remaining three gang members turned their attention to the intruder. As they menacingly started their approach; the young woman ran away.
"You want some trouble, freak?"
"Trouble comes to those who seek it."
One of the gang members hit out with a lead pipe, as another member twirled a heavy chain in the air. The shirtless young man dodged the pipe. As the chain flew toward him, he caught it in midair. Twisting the chain around his left arm, he pulled it, jerking the gang member into his waiting right fist. With a roundhouse kick, he sent the lead pipe flying through he air. He then leaped into a somersault flying over the man's head and landing behind him. Grabbing the gang member, he forcefully slammed the man's head into the brick wall. He let the man slip to the ground unconscious. Then he turned to face the fourth gang member.
BANG! BANG! BANG!
Three bullets fired from a pistol into the exposed chest of the young man. He stumbled forward, then fell to his knees before toppling over.
"Freak," the gunman said as he roused his companions and they fled the alley.
The still body lay in the alley. Then a groan escaped his lips. He sat up. A surprised look on his face as he watched the bullet wounds close. No blood had seeped from his body.
The crow cawed above him. He had to follow. There was somewhere he had to be. Again, he started following the crow.
***********************************************************************
The two men stood before the large marble monument.
"Thank you Jim, for letting them lay together."
"Where else should she be, Bruce. She loved your boy."
"They loved each other. So much."
"People thought you were going to bury him next to your parents and Jason in the cemetery."
"I couldn't ... couldn't have him that far away from me Jim. I had to keep ... some part of him here at the Manor with me."
"Is that why her apartment's remained untouched? Why you haven't even allowed the crime scene tape to be removed?" Jim asked.
Bruce turned to his friend, a tear glistened in his eye, "No. This keeps them near me. That keeps me from forgetting. There's a clue there Jim, it just hasn't been found yet. Nothing's changing there until that clue is found," he responded determinedly.
"Their killers will face justice, Bruce. One day."
Alfred walked over to the two men. He had seemed to age many years in these past twelve months.
"Sir, when you're ready, dinner is waiting."
"Thank you Alfred. We'll be in shortly."
"Master Timothy is here."
A half smile crossed Bruce's face. Tim had been the only reason he hadn't lost his mind this past year. Dick's loss had hit them both so hard. It was a bond they shared and it had brought them closer together than they had been in the past.
"I'll walk back to the house with you Alfred," Jim Gordon said as they left Bruce alone with his thoughts.
Bruce turned back to the tombstone, his face solemn again.
"I'm sorry Dick. I haven't found the people responsible for this yet. But I'm still looking. I'll always look until I find them. And I will find them Dick. I swear it. I miss you so much. If I could just see you again. One day Dick. One day," he said as he turned and started back toward the manor.
***********************************************************************
He walked following the crow until they were directly in front of the Clocktower. As he walked closer to the building, he felt the air around him change. For the first time, he noticed the cold in the air. It hit his bare skin like ice cubes. Suddenly, he stopped walking and looked down. He had stopped just in time to keep from stepping on a rose. A single red rose. Slowly, he bent down and picked it up.
His head jerked as his mind was flooded with memories. Memories that were not his own. A man in his late thirties, with black hair and blue eyes, very similar to his own bending down in this same spot. The rose hadn't fallen there. It had been carefully placed. A tear fell from the man's eyes hitting the rose.
"Bruce."
Dick looked up at the Clocktower. The memory of being thrown from Barbara's window returned to him violently. He hurried into the building and up the stairs. Flight after flight he ascended, never tired nor winded. Breaking past the yellow crime scene tape, he entered the apartment.
Nothing had changed. Everything was the same as it had been that night. He saw another solitary rose laying within the white tape that had traced off Barbara's body. He walked through the apartment and into the secret room housing Oracle's equipment. Silently, the equipment stared at him. He turned and walked back into the living room. Signs of their struggle were everywhere.
He saw a photo of Barbara and himself. The glass shattered in the frame. He picked it up. As he did the flash of memories -- his and Barbara's mingled. He felt her pain. The torture she experienced before she died. He relived the pain of the gunshots he received and the pain of crashing sixteen stories into the hard Gotham street below. He had never thought that people who jumped or were pushed as he was felt the pain. He had thought death was instantaneous. It was, but so was the pain. Excruciating pain.
"BARBARA!" he cried as he fell to the floor. "Why? Why am I here without you?" Tears began to flow from his eyes. They dropped on the floor. Black drops. His fingers moved into the small black pools as he felt the unknown substance. Then Dick noticed that his fingernails were turning black. Looking up, he caught sight of his face in the mirror. His face was white, as if he wore paste make-up. Black circles around his eyes joined with black tear stains on his face. His lips were black.
Deep inside him, he felt a panic start to grow. What was happening? What was he? His mind started to race as the horror of his situation began to set in. Barbara. He remembered leaving Barbara. He remembered returning. He knew why he was here.
The crow cawed as it flew in the broken window and perched on his shoulder.
To be continued ....
A swirling vortex opened up and a body tumbled down from the sky. He crashed into the fountain in Robinson Park. He stood up, drenched, water dripped from his bare chest. Looking down, he realized that he wore only a pair of jeans. Stumbling out of the fountain, he looked around the park.
"Where ... how ...," he placed his hand to his head. It seemed to spin. Then he heard the caw. Looking up, his eyes met with those of the great black bird. Then the bird took flight. Instinctively, without understanding why, he followed the bird.
***********************************************************************
Bruce Wayne walked into the house. He had knocked several times, but received no answer. Bruce was worried about his friend. They were suppose to meet at Bruce's office. Today was the first anniversary of Dick and Barbara's death's. Walking into the living room, he saw Jim Gordon sitting in the dark room. Jim held a photograph of Barbara and Sarah, his left hand gently tracing their faces. His gun resting peacefully in his lap.
"Jim?"
"It's been a year. Doesn't seem like my little girl's been gone a year."
"I know." he said quietly moving to sit beside his friend.
"I miss them. Barbara, Sarah. I miss them both."
"I know."
"It would be easier to just ..."
"No. Jim, it wouldn't. Not for you, or for any of us you'd leave behind."
Jim Gordon looked into his friends caring eyes.
"You do know, don't you? You understand the pain."
"Yes. Losing my parents was a pain that I lived with my entire adult life. It drove me in ... everything I ever did. But the loss of my son, of Dick. Well, the loss of a child is unimaginable, unbearable. It was worse than I ever dreamed pain could be. But Jim, we endure. We have to. They live in our hearts and in our memories. Without us, where would they live?"
Jim lowered his head into his hands. Without looking he handed the gun to his friend. Bruce took it and, leaving the sofa, walked with the gun into another room. Returning, he gently placed his hand on his friend's shoulder.
"Ready to go?"
"Yes. Let's go."
***********************************************************************
Roy walked around the Titan's conference table to the image of Nightwing gracing the wall of fallen Titans. Standing under the image, he looked up into the face of his friend.
"I never thought you'd be up there Batboy. It's not fair, you know. Damn it! You didn't even get to go fighting the bad guys. It's hard without you, but I'm trying. Lian misses her Uncle Dick. And so does her daddy."
"We all do Roy," Wally said walking beside his friend. A scarlet gloved hand touched Nightwing's image.
"What are you doing here, Wally?"
"Same as you," he said with a sigh. Together they stood in silence for a moment. Then Wally continued, "So, how's Bludhaven?"
"Same ol' same ol'. That's one corrupt town. But I think I'm making headway. At least, I'm keeping things at the level Dick had gotten the city to before ... "
"Yeah."
***********************************************************************
He walked through the city streets. Where was he headed? He wasn't sure. He just followed the crow. The Clocktower loomed in the distance. As he walked through the darkened city streets, unconnected images flashed through his mind. A beautiful woman with red hair and emerald green eyes; a man dressed as a bat accompanied by a multi-colored clad young boy. What did these flashes of ... what were they, memories ... mean? Who were the people he was seeing?
A scream echoed through the night. He turned in the direction of the scream and walked into an alley. A woman was surrounded by four young men. Gang members by their clothes. As he approached he could hear the woman pleading with her captors. He also heard the men taunting her.
"Hey babe, don't fight it. You'll enjoy it," one of the gang members said.
"I don't think so."
The gang members turned toward the voice. They saw the lone young man; he was shirtless and his jeans were still wet. He didn't appear very threatening to the gang.
"Go away. This ain't your business."
"I'm making it my business," he said, as his ice blue eyes took on a hard edge.
One of the gang members moved from the woman toward the intruder, a knife in his hand. With unbelievable speed, the shirtless young man hit out with his bare hands, disarming his attacker. Then he shot out with a straight kick into the gang members chest. A kick so hard that it sent the recipient flying into the air. When he hit the wall, he fell to the ground unconscious.
At this the remaining three gang members turned their attention to the intruder. As they menacingly started their approach; the young woman ran away.
"You want some trouble, freak?"
"Trouble comes to those who seek it."
One of the gang members hit out with a lead pipe, as another member twirled a heavy chain in the air. The shirtless young man dodged the pipe. As the chain flew toward him, he caught it in midair. Twisting the chain around his left arm, he pulled it, jerking the gang member into his waiting right fist. With a roundhouse kick, he sent the lead pipe flying through he air. He then leaped into a somersault flying over the man's head and landing behind him. Grabbing the gang member, he forcefully slammed the man's head into the brick wall. He let the man slip to the ground unconscious. Then he turned to face the fourth gang member.
BANG! BANG! BANG!
Three bullets fired from a pistol into the exposed chest of the young man. He stumbled forward, then fell to his knees before toppling over.
"Freak," the gunman said as he roused his companions and they fled the alley.
The still body lay in the alley. Then a groan escaped his lips. He sat up. A surprised look on his face as he watched the bullet wounds close. No blood had seeped from his body.
The crow cawed above him. He had to follow. There was somewhere he had to be. Again, he started following the crow.
***********************************************************************
The two men stood before the large marble monument.
"Thank you Jim, for letting them lay together."
"Where else should she be, Bruce. She loved your boy."
"They loved each other. So much."
"People thought you were going to bury him next to your parents and Jason in the cemetery."
"I couldn't ... couldn't have him that far away from me Jim. I had to keep ... some part of him here at the Manor with me."
"Is that why her apartment's remained untouched? Why you haven't even allowed the crime scene tape to be removed?" Jim asked.
Bruce turned to his friend, a tear glistened in his eye, "No. This keeps them near me. That keeps me from forgetting. There's a clue there Jim, it just hasn't been found yet. Nothing's changing there until that clue is found," he responded determinedly.
"Their killers will face justice, Bruce. One day."
Alfred walked over to the two men. He had seemed to age many years in these past twelve months.
"Sir, when you're ready, dinner is waiting."
"Thank you Alfred. We'll be in shortly."
"Master Timothy is here."
A half smile crossed Bruce's face. Tim had been the only reason he hadn't lost his mind this past year. Dick's loss had hit them both so hard. It was a bond they shared and it had brought them closer together than they had been in the past.
"I'll walk back to the house with you Alfred," Jim Gordon said as they left Bruce alone with his thoughts.
Bruce turned back to the tombstone, his face solemn again.
"I'm sorry Dick. I haven't found the people responsible for this yet. But I'm still looking. I'll always look until I find them. And I will find them Dick. I swear it. I miss you so much. If I could just see you again. One day Dick. One day," he said as he turned and started back toward the manor.
***********************************************************************
He walked following the crow until they were directly in front of the Clocktower. As he walked closer to the building, he felt the air around him change. For the first time, he noticed the cold in the air. It hit his bare skin like ice cubes. Suddenly, he stopped walking and looked down. He had stopped just in time to keep from stepping on a rose. A single red rose. Slowly, he bent down and picked it up.
His head jerked as his mind was flooded with memories. Memories that were not his own. A man in his late thirties, with black hair and blue eyes, very similar to his own bending down in this same spot. The rose hadn't fallen there. It had been carefully placed. A tear fell from the man's eyes hitting the rose.
"Bruce."
Dick looked up at the Clocktower. The memory of being thrown from Barbara's window returned to him violently. He hurried into the building and up the stairs. Flight after flight he ascended, never tired nor winded. Breaking past the yellow crime scene tape, he entered the apartment.
Nothing had changed. Everything was the same as it had been that night. He saw another solitary rose laying within the white tape that had traced off Barbara's body. He walked through the apartment and into the secret room housing Oracle's equipment. Silently, the equipment stared at him. He turned and walked back into the living room. Signs of their struggle were everywhere.
He saw a photo of Barbara and himself. The glass shattered in the frame. He picked it up. As he did the flash of memories -- his and Barbara's mingled. He felt her pain. The torture she experienced before she died. He relived the pain of the gunshots he received and the pain of crashing sixteen stories into the hard Gotham street below. He had never thought that people who jumped or were pushed as he was felt the pain. He had thought death was instantaneous. It was, but so was the pain. Excruciating pain.
"BARBARA!" he cried as he fell to the floor. "Why? Why am I here without you?" Tears began to flow from his eyes. They dropped on the floor. Black drops. His fingers moved into the small black pools as he felt the unknown substance. Then Dick noticed that his fingernails were turning black. Looking up, he caught sight of his face in the mirror. His face was white, as if he wore paste make-up. Black circles around his eyes joined with black tear stains on his face. His lips were black.
Deep inside him, he felt a panic start to grow. What was happening? What was he? His mind started to race as the horror of his situation began to set in. Barbara. He remembered leaving Barbara. He remembered returning. He knew why he was here.
The crow cawed as it flew in the broken window and perched on his shoulder.
To be continued ....
