REDEMPTION: PART 4:
The morning sun shone brightly over Wayne Manor, drying the ground the night's storm had soaked. Dick Grayson stood at his bedroom window looking out onto the grounds. The monument in the center of the yard kept his attention. Barbara lay there. Silent. Still. Dead. Covered by the earth. Yet, in his mind, she was vibrant. Moving, talking, laughing, flying, loving.
He could see her tilt her head as she would look at him over her glasses, exasperated at one of his bad jokes. Her green eyes shone at him. His mind flashed into the past.
"How can you tell such horrible jokes?" Barbara laughed at him.
"Easy, years of practice," he replied with a laugh as he sat on her counter, his Nightwing mask in his hands, watching her work at her consoles.
"Short pants, I wouldn't brag about that," she replied.
All he needed was Barbara. But Barbara wasn't here, and she never would be. She was dead. But unlike Dick, she had stayed that way. All night he had sat in the silent darkness of his room watching her grave. Silent tears fell from his eyes.
Bruce had told him to sleep. Bruce didn't understand. Dick no longer needed sleep. He didn't need food. He was dead. Granted he was walking, talking, and feeling, well sometimes feeling, some things. But it wasn't the same. It would never be the same again.
"Master Dick," Alfred began tentatively as he opened the door. He received no answer as Dick continued to stare out of his window. "Master Dick, breakfast is ready."
"No thanks, Alfred."
"Young man you should come downstairs. You need to eat."
Dick turned toward the older man. He could see the care in the old grey eyes that looked at him. He almost smiled.
"Not really. Not anymore," Dick replied, then seeing the disappointment in Alfred's face, relented, "but I'll come downstairs. In a minute, okay."
Alfred smiled as his young charge agreed to leave his room. Last night had been eventful. Master Dick had returned from ... well, Master Dick was home. That's all that truly mattered. Alfred closed the door, walking down the hallway towards the staircase. As he did, he heard the doorbell ring. They weren't expecting anyone, especially this early.
Walking across the large entryway, Alfred stopped and opened the door. He let out an audible gasp.
"Hey Al, we thought we'd drop by for the day," Roy said as he and Lian walked past Alfred.
"Oh my word, " Alfred whispered as he shut the door. This was not a good thing. Although he knew Roy meant well, The Masters did not exactly need company this morning. Besides taking up residence as Bludhaven's new protector, Roy had taken it upon himself since Dick's death to "check up" on Bruce periodically, as if he was keeping some solemn promise.
"So, Al," Roy began as Lian started walking around the very large room, "we thought we'd stop by and check on things. You know, given what yesterday was. How is he?"
"He is much better than you would imagine, Master Roy."
"Good. He broods too much."
"That has always been true," Alfred agreed.
"Unca Dick, you're back," they heard Lian cry out. Roy quickly turned as he saw his daughter running to the young man on the staircase.
"Lian!" Roy shouted, "Lian, wait! Stop!"
The child turned a quizzical expression to her father, then continued up the stairs to her 'uncle'. "You're back."
Dick smiled slightly as he bent down to the child, "Yes, Lian, I'm back."
Roy eyed the man on the stairs. Yeah, he looked like Dick, sounded like Dick. But Dick was dead. Roy definitely did not like having this impostor near his daughter.
"Alfred, what the hell is going on here?"
"It's sort of complicated Roy," Dick started as he took Lian's hand and continued down the stairs.
"Lian, come here," Roy said protectively.
The little girl calmly walked over to her father, a puzzled look on her face, "What's wrong Daddy? Unca Dick's home. And you said he couldn't come home."
"Miss Lian, why don't we go to the kitchen for some breakfast?" Alfred asked as he took the child by the hand and led her away. They walked past Bruce who had silently entered the room.
Roy eyed Dick like he was a stranger. Then he turned his eyes to Bruce. "You don't believe this, do you?" he asked, an edge of anger in his voice. His friend was dead, and someone was posing as him. Bruce had to know better. Why was he letting someone do this? Why was he letting this impostor continue to be able to walk?
Dick spoke before Bruce, "Roy, it's really me. I know it's hard to believe, but it's me."
"Don't! Don't even start with me. My best friend died, horribly, a year ago. I don't know who you are, but ..."
"Roy!" Bruce said, his voice low but commanding. "It is Dick. No trick, no impostor. As unreal as it seems, this is Dick."
"Have you been brainwashed or something?" Roy asked in disbelief.
"No."
"Doing drugs?
"No."
"Would I even know if you were?"
"No," Bruce replied.
"So that's really him?" Roy asked pointing at Dick, but speaking as though he weren't in the room.
"Yes," Bruce sighed.
Walking over to Dick, Roy still wasn't sure, "If you're Dick, are you a ghost?"
"Something like that," Dick replied.
"This is a bunch of bullsh..." Roy started. He stopped suddenly when Dick grabbed him by the head with both hands. Roy was consumed by a flash of swirling memories, memories that weren't his own: He saw himself, through Dick's eyes, as a young boy, as Speedy the sidekick of the Green Arrow, his entry into the Titans and his friendship with a multicolored clad young man called Robin. They were rivals, they were friends. Roy saw himself in drug rehab, Dick by his side. Then he saw Dick in Barbara's apartment, being shot, going through the window, in a forest, on a bridge, and jumping from that bridge... "Oh my God. Dick?"
"I told you it's me," Dick replied.
"Well, stranger things have happened... can't recall one right now, but they have happened. You care to explain?"
"Over breakfast," Bruce responded as he motioned for them to follow him. Roy turned toward Dick who simply shrugged. Together, they walked behind Bruce to the kitchen.
Over the meal, Bruce more than Dick, explained to Roy what they knew. Dick walked around the kitchen, never once sitting down. Roy shook his head as he soaked up the knowledge.
"This is too incredible," Roy said when Bruce was finished. "But, if it's really you, I don't care how it happened. I'm just glad to have you back," Roy smiled a wide smile.
Dick turned toward him with a melancholy smile.
"Wait until I tell the rest of the Titans. Donna's going to be so excited, and Wally..."
"Don't," Dick said.
"Don't? What do you mean don't?"
"I don't want them to know."
"And why the hell not?" Roy asked in anger.
"Roy, I don't understand exactly why I'm back, or how long I'll be here. There's no need to tell them about me, when I may be ... gone again...in the near future."
"Gone again? You mean..."
"Yes."
Bruce's hand raised to his eyes as he listened to this conversation. He and Dick had a similar conversation the night before after Dick finally came in from Barbara's grave. Bruce planned to do some research today, he had already told Tim what he wanted. Bruce had never researched the paranormal, life after death. But now he had to. Dick needed information. He needed information. And he hoped, no prayed, that he would find evidence that his son would remain here with him. Dick, however, kept talking as if he would be leaving soon. This time, forever.
Roy changed the subject, "I...I've been taking care of Bludhaven for you."
Dick eyed Roy at the words, a slight smile on his lips, he understood his friend. This was his way of honoring Dick. If Dick could feel happiness, this would have made him happy. "Thanks Roy."
"Will you be going back there, taking over? While you're here?"
"No. I don't care about that anymore. Nightwing is dead. Just because Dick Grayson's back, don't think Nightwing is. I don't care about anything like I use to. I have a mission. Once it's finished, once I've set things right, I'll go back to Barbara. Back where I belong."
"A mission?" Roy asked.
"Revenge," Dick responded calmly. Then he simply turned and walked out of the room, out of the house, towards Barbara's grave.
Roy turned to Bruce, who still sat with his head in his hand. Roy walked to Bruce, and gently placed his hands on the older man's shoulder. He didn't know what to say, so he stood there in supportive silence.
***********************************************************************
As night fell over the Manor, Bruce found Dick doing his own research in the Batcave. Bruce walked over to see what he was working on.
"Looking for someone named Deacon?"
"Yes."
"He was there that night?"
"Yes."
Bruce breathed deeply before asking the next question, "What do you intend to do?"
"Deliver justice," Dick replied, his blue eyes locking with Bruce's.
"Justice and vengeance are not the same thing."
"My justice is," Dick replied coldly and turned back to his research. He had called up every file the Batcomputer had on criminals named Deacon. He had been weeding through their mug shots all day. He would find the man he searched for tonight.
Bruce worried about Dick. He knew he couldn't begin to understand what his son had gone through, was still going through. Bruce wanted to help, he just wasn't sure how. But if he could find out something, anything, about how Dick had returned, why he had returned, that would help.
Bruce turned around and saw the vacant chair at the Batcomputer. On the large screen was a mug shot of Deacon Cast. Quickly walking to the computer, he pressed the call button. His fingers tapped a rhythm waiting for someone to pick up.
"May I be of assistance, Sir?" Alfred's voice sounded over the communications system.
"Where are you Alfred?"
"The study, Sir."
"Have you seen Dick?" Bruce asked, worry in his tone.
"I thought he was downstairs with you," Alfred replied, his tone beginning to mirror Bruce's.
"He was just hear, and now ... well, he ... uh ... he's disappeared."
Tim ran into the Cave through his special entrance, "Bruce, I think I found something out, about Dick." Tim handed the papers to Bruce who quickly scanned them.
"Oh God, he doesn't realize," Bruce said aloud as he quickly headed for the uniform vault.
***********************************************************************
A large black crow flew over Gotham City. Its eyes looked at the world in colors of red and black. Dick Grayson was part of this crow. Shared souls on a shared mission. He saw the world through the crow's eyes. And finally, he saw their prey.
Deacon Cast walked the pier near the old Gotham amusement park. A crow flew past his head. He waved his hands by his head. "Damn bird," he mumbled as he continued walking. Then a chill went down his spine. He stopped, turning to stare into the stillness of the night. Turning around, he continued walking. His pace quickened. He turned, looking behind him, there was nothing there. Yet, he felt a presence. And what he felt terrified him. Deacon started to run.
"The wicked flee the hand of righteousness. But their flight is in vain," a deep voice called out from the blackness of the night. A voice that chilled Deacon to the bone. He had heard that voice before. His mind raced back to a year earlier. At the Clocktower. The night he and Orlando helped the Joker kill that girl and her boyfriend. He had spoken to the boy...
"I bet Mr. Joker'd let you watch if you ask nice," Deacon had said to the boy who lay wounded and bleeding on the floor from two of the Joker's bullets.
"Go to hell," the wounded young man had growled out.
"You first," Deacon had replied, as he and Orlando lifted the boy throwing him to a certain death from the apartment's window.
"Go to hell," the wounded young man had growled out. In the same voice Deacon now heard. It was impossible.
Deacon froze in his tracks. "Who...who are you? Where are you?" he asked with a shaking voice.
"Everywhere and nowhere," the voice responded.
"Why are you here?" Deacon asked as he turned in circles trying to find the disembodied voice.
"Delivering justice," the voice replied as he stepped into Deacon's view. The sight of the man dressed in black, his face white as paste, black markings around his eyes and lips, sent a cold fear down Deacon's spine.
Deacon turned and ran. His breath was short as he ran. He felt he ran for his life. Entering the abandoned amusement park, he ran toward the fun house. He ran past the broken mirrors, the distorted views of himself. Ran into the man he was running from. Deacon screamed as he fell backwards onto the floor.
"Scared? You should be."
"We...we killed you," Deacon stuttered.
The Crow that had been Dick Grayson smiled at Deacon with black lips. A smile that caused Deacon to break into a sweat. "I know," he calmly replied. "Remember when I told you to go to hell? You told me to go first. I did. Now, it's your turn," the Crow replied, his voice getting louder, wilder sounding. "All aboard the Hellbound Express..." he called out as he walked around Deacon, his voice mocking a train conductors.
"Puh...puh...puhlease don't kill me, " Deacon cried out as his body shook in fear.
Kneeling down so they were eye to eye, Dick replied, "Babs said that, as you raped her, as you beat her. How'd you answer?"
Tears fell from Deacon's eyes. His body shook, but he could no longer move. He felt frozen in place, paralyzed with fear.
"How does it feel? Do you like the fear?" Dick asked as he held his hands out to firmly grasp Deacon's head. "Enjoy it. Every day for the rest of your life. Live with the fear you have now."
Deacon screamed in agony as his punishment was handed out.
"What is all the racket? Can't a guy get some sleep around here," the Joker said yawning as he entered the room.
As he looked into the face of the Crow, Deacon screamed again. A sadistic smile had crept upon the Crow's face.
"And here I thought I was going to have to look for you," the Crow said.
To be continued ....
The morning sun shone brightly over Wayne Manor, drying the ground the night's storm had soaked. Dick Grayson stood at his bedroom window looking out onto the grounds. The monument in the center of the yard kept his attention. Barbara lay there. Silent. Still. Dead. Covered by the earth. Yet, in his mind, she was vibrant. Moving, talking, laughing, flying, loving.
He could see her tilt her head as she would look at him over her glasses, exasperated at one of his bad jokes. Her green eyes shone at him. His mind flashed into the past.
"How can you tell such horrible jokes?" Barbara laughed at him.
"Easy, years of practice," he replied with a laugh as he sat on her counter, his Nightwing mask in his hands, watching her work at her consoles.
"Short pants, I wouldn't brag about that," she replied.
All he needed was Barbara. But Barbara wasn't here, and she never would be. She was dead. But unlike Dick, she had stayed that way. All night he had sat in the silent darkness of his room watching her grave. Silent tears fell from his eyes.
Bruce had told him to sleep. Bruce didn't understand. Dick no longer needed sleep. He didn't need food. He was dead. Granted he was walking, talking, and feeling, well sometimes feeling, some things. But it wasn't the same. It would never be the same again.
"Master Dick," Alfred began tentatively as he opened the door. He received no answer as Dick continued to stare out of his window. "Master Dick, breakfast is ready."
"No thanks, Alfred."
"Young man you should come downstairs. You need to eat."
Dick turned toward the older man. He could see the care in the old grey eyes that looked at him. He almost smiled.
"Not really. Not anymore," Dick replied, then seeing the disappointment in Alfred's face, relented, "but I'll come downstairs. In a minute, okay."
Alfred smiled as his young charge agreed to leave his room. Last night had been eventful. Master Dick had returned from ... well, Master Dick was home. That's all that truly mattered. Alfred closed the door, walking down the hallway towards the staircase. As he did, he heard the doorbell ring. They weren't expecting anyone, especially this early.
Walking across the large entryway, Alfred stopped and opened the door. He let out an audible gasp.
"Hey Al, we thought we'd drop by for the day," Roy said as he and Lian walked past Alfred.
"Oh my word, " Alfred whispered as he shut the door. This was not a good thing. Although he knew Roy meant well, The Masters did not exactly need company this morning. Besides taking up residence as Bludhaven's new protector, Roy had taken it upon himself since Dick's death to "check up" on Bruce periodically, as if he was keeping some solemn promise.
"So, Al," Roy began as Lian started walking around the very large room, "we thought we'd stop by and check on things. You know, given what yesterday was. How is he?"
"He is much better than you would imagine, Master Roy."
"Good. He broods too much."
"That has always been true," Alfred agreed.
"Unca Dick, you're back," they heard Lian cry out. Roy quickly turned as he saw his daughter running to the young man on the staircase.
"Lian!" Roy shouted, "Lian, wait! Stop!"
The child turned a quizzical expression to her father, then continued up the stairs to her 'uncle'. "You're back."
Dick smiled slightly as he bent down to the child, "Yes, Lian, I'm back."
Roy eyed the man on the stairs. Yeah, he looked like Dick, sounded like Dick. But Dick was dead. Roy definitely did not like having this impostor near his daughter.
"Alfred, what the hell is going on here?"
"It's sort of complicated Roy," Dick started as he took Lian's hand and continued down the stairs.
"Lian, come here," Roy said protectively.
The little girl calmly walked over to her father, a puzzled look on her face, "What's wrong Daddy? Unca Dick's home. And you said he couldn't come home."
"Miss Lian, why don't we go to the kitchen for some breakfast?" Alfred asked as he took the child by the hand and led her away. They walked past Bruce who had silently entered the room.
Roy eyed Dick like he was a stranger. Then he turned his eyes to Bruce. "You don't believe this, do you?" he asked, an edge of anger in his voice. His friend was dead, and someone was posing as him. Bruce had to know better. Why was he letting someone do this? Why was he letting this impostor continue to be able to walk?
Dick spoke before Bruce, "Roy, it's really me. I know it's hard to believe, but it's me."
"Don't! Don't even start with me. My best friend died, horribly, a year ago. I don't know who you are, but ..."
"Roy!" Bruce said, his voice low but commanding. "It is Dick. No trick, no impostor. As unreal as it seems, this is Dick."
"Have you been brainwashed or something?" Roy asked in disbelief.
"No."
"Doing drugs?
"No."
"Would I even know if you were?"
"No," Bruce replied.
"So that's really him?" Roy asked pointing at Dick, but speaking as though he weren't in the room.
"Yes," Bruce sighed.
Walking over to Dick, Roy still wasn't sure, "If you're Dick, are you a ghost?"
"Something like that," Dick replied.
"This is a bunch of bullsh..." Roy started. He stopped suddenly when Dick grabbed him by the head with both hands. Roy was consumed by a flash of swirling memories, memories that weren't his own: He saw himself, through Dick's eyes, as a young boy, as Speedy the sidekick of the Green Arrow, his entry into the Titans and his friendship with a multicolored clad young man called Robin. They were rivals, they were friends. Roy saw himself in drug rehab, Dick by his side. Then he saw Dick in Barbara's apartment, being shot, going through the window, in a forest, on a bridge, and jumping from that bridge... "Oh my God. Dick?"
"I told you it's me," Dick replied.
"Well, stranger things have happened... can't recall one right now, but they have happened. You care to explain?"
"Over breakfast," Bruce responded as he motioned for them to follow him. Roy turned toward Dick who simply shrugged. Together, they walked behind Bruce to the kitchen.
Over the meal, Bruce more than Dick, explained to Roy what they knew. Dick walked around the kitchen, never once sitting down. Roy shook his head as he soaked up the knowledge.
"This is too incredible," Roy said when Bruce was finished. "But, if it's really you, I don't care how it happened. I'm just glad to have you back," Roy smiled a wide smile.
Dick turned toward him with a melancholy smile.
"Wait until I tell the rest of the Titans. Donna's going to be so excited, and Wally..."
"Don't," Dick said.
"Don't? What do you mean don't?"
"I don't want them to know."
"And why the hell not?" Roy asked in anger.
"Roy, I don't understand exactly why I'm back, or how long I'll be here. There's no need to tell them about me, when I may be ... gone again...in the near future."
"Gone again? You mean..."
"Yes."
Bruce's hand raised to his eyes as he listened to this conversation. He and Dick had a similar conversation the night before after Dick finally came in from Barbara's grave. Bruce planned to do some research today, he had already told Tim what he wanted. Bruce had never researched the paranormal, life after death. But now he had to. Dick needed information. He needed information. And he hoped, no prayed, that he would find evidence that his son would remain here with him. Dick, however, kept talking as if he would be leaving soon. This time, forever.
Roy changed the subject, "I...I've been taking care of Bludhaven for you."
Dick eyed Roy at the words, a slight smile on his lips, he understood his friend. This was his way of honoring Dick. If Dick could feel happiness, this would have made him happy. "Thanks Roy."
"Will you be going back there, taking over? While you're here?"
"No. I don't care about that anymore. Nightwing is dead. Just because Dick Grayson's back, don't think Nightwing is. I don't care about anything like I use to. I have a mission. Once it's finished, once I've set things right, I'll go back to Barbara. Back where I belong."
"A mission?" Roy asked.
"Revenge," Dick responded calmly. Then he simply turned and walked out of the room, out of the house, towards Barbara's grave.
Roy turned to Bruce, who still sat with his head in his hand. Roy walked to Bruce, and gently placed his hands on the older man's shoulder. He didn't know what to say, so he stood there in supportive silence.
***********************************************************************
As night fell over the Manor, Bruce found Dick doing his own research in the Batcave. Bruce walked over to see what he was working on.
"Looking for someone named Deacon?"
"Yes."
"He was there that night?"
"Yes."
Bruce breathed deeply before asking the next question, "What do you intend to do?"
"Deliver justice," Dick replied, his blue eyes locking with Bruce's.
"Justice and vengeance are not the same thing."
"My justice is," Dick replied coldly and turned back to his research. He had called up every file the Batcomputer had on criminals named Deacon. He had been weeding through their mug shots all day. He would find the man he searched for tonight.
Bruce worried about Dick. He knew he couldn't begin to understand what his son had gone through, was still going through. Bruce wanted to help, he just wasn't sure how. But if he could find out something, anything, about how Dick had returned, why he had returned, that would help.
Bruce turned around and saw the vacant chair at the Batcomputer. On the large screen was a mug shot of Deacon Cast. Quickly walking to the computer, he pressed the call button. His fingers tapped a rhythm waiting for someone to pick up.
"May I be of assistance, Sir?" Alfred's voice sounded over the communications system.
"Where are you Alfred?"
"The study, Sir."
"Have you seen Dick?" Bruce asked, worry in his tone.
"I thought he was downstairs with you," Alfred replied, his tone beginning to mirror Bruce's.
"He was just hear, and now ... well, he ... uh ... he's disappeared."
Tim ran into the Cave through his special entrance, "Bruce, I think I found something out, about Dick." Tim handed the papers to Bruce who quickly scanned them.
"Oh God, he doesn't realize," Bruce said aloud as he quickly headed for the uniform vault.
***********************************************************************
A large black crow flew over Gotham City. Its eyes looked at the world in colors of red and black. Dick Grayson was part of this crow. Shared souls on a shared mission. He saw the world through the crow's eyes. And finally, he saw their prey.
Deacon Cast walked the pier near the old Gotham amusement park. A crow flew past his head. He waved his hands by his head. "Damn bird," he mumbled as he continued walking. Then a chill went down his spine. He stopped, turning to stare into the stillness of the night. Turning around, he continued walking. His pace quickened. He turned, looking behind him, there was nothing there. Yet, he felt a presence. And what he felt terrified him. Deacon started to run.
"The wicked flee the hand of righteousness. But their flight is in vain," a deep voice called out from the blackness of the night. A voice that chilled Deacon to the bone. He had heard that voice before. His mind raced back to a year earlier. At the Clocktower. The night he and Orlando helped the Joker kill that girl and her boyfriend. He had spoken to the boy...
"I bet Mr. Joker'd let you watch if you ask nice," Deacon had said to the boy who lay wounded and bleeding on the floor from two of the Joker's bullets.
"Go to hell," the wounded young man had growled out.
"You first," Deacon had replied, as he and Orlando lifted the boy throwing him to a certain death from the apartment's window.
"Go to hell," the wounded young man had growled out. In the same voice Deacon now heard. It was impossible.
Deacon froze in his tracks. "Who...who are you? Where are you?" he asked with a shaking voice.
"Everywhere and nowhere," the voice responded.
"Why are you here?" Deacon asked as he turned in circles trying to find the disembodied voice.
"Delivering justice," the voice replied as he stepped into Deacon's view. The sight of the man dressed in black, his face white as paste, black markings around his eyes and lips, sent a cold fear down Deacon's spine.
Deacon turned and ran. His breath was short as he ran. He felt he ran for his life. Entering the abandoned amusement park, he ran toward the fun house. He ran past the broken mirrors, the distorted views of himself. Ran into the man he was running from. Deacon screamed as he fell backwards onto the floor.
"Scared? You should be."
"We...we killed you," Deacon stuttered.
The Crow that had been Dick Grayson smiled at Deacon with black lips. A smile that caused Deacon to break into a sweat. "I know," he calmly replied. "Remember when I told you to go to hell? You told me to go first. I did. Now, it's your turn," the Crow replied, his voice getting louder, wilder sounding. "All aboard the Hellbound Express..." he called out as he walked around Deacon, his voice mocking a train conductors.
"Puh...puh...puhlease don't kill me, " Deacon cried out as his body shook in fear.
Kneeling down so they were eye to eye, Dick replied, "Babs said that, as you raped her, as you beat her. How'd you answer?"
Tears fell from Deacon's eyes. His body shook, but he could no longer move. He felt frozen in place, paralyzed with fear.
"How does it feel? Do you like the fear?" Dick asked as he held his hands out to firmly grasp Deacon's head. "Enjoy it. Every day for the rest of your life. Live with the fear you have now."
Deacon screamed in agony as his punishment was handed out.
"What is all the racket? Can't a guy get some sleep around here," the Joker said yawning as he entered the room.
As he looked into the face of the Crow, Deacon screamed again. A sadistic smile had crept upon the Crow's face.
"And here I thought I was going to have to look for you," the Crow said.
To be continued ....
