DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of the characters. Nightwing and all of his friends belongs to DC comics. I'd be a happy woman if Dick belonged to me...but no such luck. I have not made any profit out of writing this, so please don't sue me. It would not be worth your while.
Author Comment: Thank you to my wonderful beta, Jean whose comments force me to examine my writing. There are a number of spelling, grammar and punctuation differences between Australia and the USA... please forgive me for writing with an accent. (g)
WARNING: I have nooooo medical knowledge. There are likely to be inaccuracies in this story. I hope you can enjoy it despite this.
Special Thanks: Thank you to all those people who have left such wonderful feedback. Some of you haven't left your e-mail addresses so I haven't been able to thank you. I just want you to know that your kind words mean so much.
Bruce continued to stare at his open palms. His hands had always been good to him. They'd always been strong and trustworthy. Sure he had practiced and trained as a young man, but it hadn't been difficult. His hands had never let him down... until now. He could still feel Dick's fingers in his own - feel him slipping from his grasp. Nightwing hadn't had the strength to fight the water any longer and... Bruce had allowed him to slip away.
Bruce sighed long and deep, his breath shuddering out of him with despair. He was seated on the ground leaning up against the wall of the stable, his legs drawn up close to his chest. Today was worse than all of the ones before. Today, his grief was smothering him and there was nothing he could do to stop it.
How could he have let go? Why hadn't Selina let him dive in after Dick? What right did she have to stop him? He should have gone in after Nightwing. Maybe if he had, he could have rescued him. The memory of Dick's face replayed in his strangled mind. The look of shock being replaced by understanding and then love. "Oh, God, Dick. I'm sorry," he whispered in anguish.
Somewhere beyond Bruce's closed world of grieving, he heard the approach of another. Strangely, the outer perimeter alarm hadn't sounded. Glancing up, he instinctively searched for Dick. He couldn't count the number of times Dick would appear walking up from the gate unannounced. His head would appear briefly and then disappear among the long grass due to the uneven ground only to reappear. Then he'd wave and call out, Howdy, fellas. Just happened to be passin'. Be up shortly.
Bruce strained his eyes, waiting to see a glimpse of the top of Dick's head before it disappeared in a dip. Tragically, the area leading to the gate was empty. Dick wasn't coming.
Glancing to his right, Bruce vaguely noticed a man approaching. Normally he would have risen to meet the visitor, but he didn't. The millionaire was shoeless and shirtless, his hair uncombed, his face unshaven. His mind barely registered the arrival of the caller. He had little awareness of the living world around him. He was caught somewhere between there and limbo, his mind and emotions trapped in a grief-stricken hell of what might have been.
Hugo Strange stopped walking a few feet from the seated man and stared down at the pitiful heap with a genuine smile of triumph.
"Well, well, Wayne. It would appear the rumour is true, in a way. I'd heard that Batman hadn't been seen since the floods. Word is Batman's dead. Not far from the truth by the look of you. We have some unfinished business." Business Strange intended finishing right now. Today, he and Bruce Wayne would face one another and today, Strange would defeat his enemy once and for all and take over in his place. In Hugo Strange's twisted mind, he was the true Batman, something Bruce Wayne had stolen from him. He had long forgotten the fact that he had been a renowned psychiatrist who had researched Gotham's vigilante for the Mayor. He had no memory of profiling Batman to the point that he became obsessed with the man and the legend. Finally, he didn't recall putting the pieces into place to reveal the Dark Knight's secret identity. The only thing Hugo remembered was pulling on the Batman costume he had made with his own hands and staring in the mirror. It was at that very point his mind had snapped. He became the figure that had captivated him and from that moment on, Hugo Strange had spent his life in the pursuit of his goal... and that was to become The Batman.
This fraud at his feet had stolen what was justly his. "Get up and fight me, impostor. Today, you die and I take my rightful place as Batman."
Bruce stared through the other man with empty eyes.
Strange gazed down at the wretched man seated on the ground. Hugo hadn't believed the Dark Knight to be dead, but had heard that Wayne's ward had been killed. Strange knew Bruce Wayne better than he knew himself. The months he had spent, first chronicling Batman and after discovering his identity, studying Bruce Wayne and cataloguing Wayne's life, had provided him with an almost complete understanding of what made this man tick. For example, Hugo understood how difficult it was for the millionaire to share a trusting relationship with others or to express his feelings due to the tragedy in his past. Family was sacred to Wayne, and as Grayson had been pretty much all the family Bruce Wayne had, the young man's death would provide the nail in Bruce's coffin. Wayne had loved the boy more than he was capable of showing. Emotion, in particular, love, was something that Bruce Wayne struggled with and it was this that had caused distance to develop between him and the boy he'd raised. However, Hugo Strange knew that Dick Grayson was the only person Bruce Wayne had allowed to get close.
Strange knew that Grayson's death would weaken his nemesis mentally and emotionally, thus providing the advantage Hugo had always wanted. With Batman's defenses stripped away by his grief, Hugo believed he could be the victor this time. He had tried to kill Wayne in the past, but failed. Bruce was a physically strong man, but Strange felt he was far superior mentally.
Hugo had expected to find Bruce Wayne grieving. Perhaps drunk after turning to alcohol for solace like so many weak-minded people did at such times. Clearly, that wasn't the case. The other man's eyes were clear, but dazed. Hugo found himself intrigued.
"I heard you lost your ward?"
Bruce continued to stare blankly, his mind lost in the endless caverns of grief and denial.
"Can you hear me, Wayne?"Hugo growled. Still Bruce failed to move or show any sign that he was aware he was being spoken to.
Cautiously, Hugo Strange approached the dishevelled man. "Wayne?"
Bruce dragged his eyes from the spot they had been glued to and unexpectedly his attention was drawn to the small white cross a few feet away.
Strange followed the line of his nemesis' gaze. The insane psychiatrist snorted with aversion. Wayne's near catatonic state was indeed a result of losing his former ward. It was exactly the reaction he had predicted. How feebleminded Wayne was. Not worthy of being Batman. Strange flicked his eyes back to Bruce and looked him up and down. "You're pathetic. Can't you see that you don't have the internal fortitude to be Batman? I will make your death swift. Rest assured, Batman will live on and is in good hands."
Hugo withdrew a knife, the blade catching the sun and flashing as it arced through the air on its deadly mission. Bruce Wayne didn't move. Didn't react... didn't care... wasn't really aware. The blade descended toward him but was blocked by the arm of another. Strange leaped back to find himself facing a hooded man who had literally appeared out of nowhere. Hugo recognised him immediately as the assassin Deathstroke.
"Leave," Slade Wilson growled, placing himself between Bruce and Strange.
"This has nothing to do with you, assassin. It is survival of the fittest. The circle of life. It is time for the charlatan to step aside and allow the true Batman to take over the reins. Look at him. He isn't capable of wearing the mask anymore. I am," Hugo pointed out, his face flashing with true insanity.
Deathstroke's single eye narrowed. In the deep crevices of his mind he was able to put a name to the face in front of him - Hugo Strange. When Wilson had infiltrated Titans Tower a number of years before, he had read a file on Strange. The man was insane - obsessed with Batman. Deathstroke remembered reading a footnote Nightwing had written at the bottom of the file... a footnote that would save Hugo Strange's life today. "Despite knowing Batman's identity, Hugo Strange has never exposed him because for Strange, knowledge is power and to share the knowledge he has would be to lose the advantage he perceives he has over Batman's other enemies.... in his mind he is Batman. It would also shatter the legend itself and Huge Strange's obsession with this very legend ensures his silence."
"Strange, I'm only going to say this once more. Leave or die," Deathstroke repeated, taking out a gun.
Hugo Strange stared into the eye peering out through the mask. In it he saw cruel and psychotic indifference. It was clear to the former analyst that Deathstroke meant what he said and would kill without thought or remorse.
"You win this round, but I will be Batman. His mind is gone," Hugo spat with amusement as he turned and strode away.
Deathstroke watched the madman until he disappeared from view. Only then did he turn around to face Bruce Wayne. A frown invaded his face. He had come to pay his respects. He couldn't do so at the formal funeral. Dick Grayson had been a fine adversary and at one time, a dependable ally... not to mention a friend of Slade's son.
"Bruce?" Wilson asked, carefully. They had met on opposites sides of a sword, but never face to face like this.
Behind Bruce, Alegre whinnied softly. Wayne glanced back over his shoulder. "Easy, boy." It was the first sign of life he'd shown.
"Bruce?" Deathstroke repeated. As the assassin studied the lost blue orbs staring through him, he could see that Wayne was a broken man. The person before him was not the warrior he had faced.
Slade Wilson watched as Bruce's dazed eyes were drawn to the small cross and the assassin read the name lovingly carved on the memorial. Deathstroke's hard, emotionless face creased with understanding and what could only be described as wisps of genuine pity. He crouched in front of Bruce, his voice dropping to a hushed whisper. "You have my sympathies, Bruce. The loss of one's child is debilitating. I know. I have buried both of my sons." Bruce dragged his eyes from the cross and let them settle on the assassin. "Your son did you proud, Bruce Wayne. He was a great warrior. One of the best I have ever had the privilege of knowing." With that, Slade rose to his feet, turned and walked away. He had paid his respects, which had been the point of his trip. He had saved Bruce's life to repay a debt he owed Grayson. While he and Nightwing had not always worked on the same side, he had liked the young man and he had owed Dick his life. Now, that debt was paid in full.
Bruce continued to stare at the spot where Deathstroke had stood. Wayne's heart rate increased until the muscle was thundering in his chest, fuelled by the assassin's words. The loss of one's child is debilitating. "My child..." he murmured bewildered. A lump formed in Bruce's throat as his gaze returned to the simple cross. Bruce swallowed as he acknowledged the words were true and for the first time since losing Dick, he used the word. "My...son." The declaration tore at his very soul. Bludhaven may have lost its hero, the Titans their leader and Batman his partner... but Bruce Wayne had lost his son.
VVVVVVVVVV
Catwoman stared down on the city below. There was an eeriness in her heart today. A feeling of hopelessness. These same feelings appeared to be echoed by Gotham itself. Gotham had never been a beautiful city, but she was home. She had survived the earthquake against all odds and while the city had physically survived the floods, Catwoman wasn't sure if Gotham would ever return to normal. Good, decent people were afraid, now. They knew their avenging angel wasn't out there. The problem was, every lowlife in the city knew it too. How could one man make such a difference? Catwoman reached up and wiped a tear from her cheek. In Batman's case, one man had been enough. He had created a legend and it was that legend that had kept Gotham from boiling over into a sea of lawlessness.
Behind her, Catwoman heard movement. She didn't turn, monitoring the sound with her well trained senses. If it was some mugger or rapist, they were in for a surprise
"It's me," a woman's voice reassured.
Catwoman sighed. "Huntress."
The other approached and stopped beside the lone figure. "Have you heard from him?"
"No," Catwoman snarled. Her anger rose. She felt like she'd been palmed aside by Batman. Cast adrift like unwanted garbage.
"He's disappeared and all hell has broken loose. We need help."
"Why are you telling me? I don't know how to contact him. Ask the kid or that Oracle. Or Superman. Hell, ask Santa Claus, he'd know more about it than I do."
Huntress stared at the other woman and she saw something she had never consciously seen before. "Men like him don't know how to express their feelings," Helena whispered. Selina's cheek twitched, but she didn't comment. "He's a warrior, Catwoman. He can't react the way normal people do." Helena's gaze was drawn to the cloudless sky and her thoughts to Batman. "It seems to me that when heroes grieve, they do it silently and completely alone."
Selina knew the other woman was right. Batman was grieving. He'd shut everyone out... even Robin.
"I want to help him, but I don't know how if he won't let me," Catwoman whispered.
Huntress nodded. "I've lost loved ones, Catwoman, so I know what it's like. At some stage, you just reach a point where things don't seem so bad. It still hurts, but you feel like you can finally see yourself going on. He will too."
"I hope you're right," Selina whispered.
"You're in love with him, aren't you?"
"What?" Catwoman cried, spinning around to face Huntress.
Helena smiled gently. "I've seen the way you look at him. Relax. Men don't notice those things. Only women do."
"Huntress..."
"Your secret is safe with me. Give him time. He's a strong man. He'll come through this."
"I'm not so sure he will," Catwoman disagreed. She had seen the despair and anguish in his eyes as he had searched for Nightwing. She'd seen and felt it to her core. The loss of the other man had been literally tearing Batman apart.
"You mustn't lose faith, Catwoman."
The thief turned vigilante returned to studying the gloomy streets below. Others viewed Batman as little more than a hard, emotionless, obsessed warrior. She knew better. She knew that Nightwing's loss was forcing Batman to relive the loss of past loved ones. People like the second boy to wear the Robin costume. The boy killed by The Joker. She knew how much that had affected him. Batman had once told her that he had been orphaned young, actually witnessing the death of his parents. Catwoman also knew that Nightwing had been far more than just a comrade in arms. When she had first met him, he had worn the yellow cape - the first Robin. Part of the dynamic duo. While she couldn't be certain if Nightwing had indeed been Batman's son, she suspected it was so. The Dark Knight's family had been stolen from him when he was child... now it was happening again. How could anyone possibly be expected to 'come through' that?
Catwoman turned to comment, but she paused, spotting in the other woman's face her own mix of emotions. "You were in love with Nightwing?"
Helena turned away. "No."
Catwoman placed her hand on her companion's shoulder and guided her around so they were facing.
"I've seen the way you look at him. Relax. Men don't notice those things. Only women do." She smiled gently.
Huntress swallowed. "It's different to what you think. I... I did love him, but his heart belonged to another."
"Oracle?" Catwoman guessed. She had heard Nightwing and the mysterious woman arguing and flirting over the communicator.
Huntress nodded. Catwoman sighed. "It appears we share more in common than we first thought."
"You mean, Batman isn't in love with you?"
"I don't know. Sometimes I think he is. Unfortunately, his heart belongs to another," she replied wistfully.
"Who?" Huntress asked.
Catwoman looked back over the streets of Gotham. "Her."
PART FIVE COMING SOON
© August 2004 Aussie Nightwriter. : This relates only to the creative property in this story. The distinctive way the story unfolds, the specific dialogue and unique situations are mine. I acknowledge that some of the characters and settings belong to DC comics. (g) No infrigement of copyright was intended and no profit has been made from this story... so, please don't sue me. It wouldn't be worth your while.