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.... I want to thank Bessie 1 and Shaindl who I haven't been able to send thanks to because I don't have their e-mail addresses.
Alfred's brow furrowed as he drove up the long driveway to the Manor. There was a glow coming from it and smoke lifting from the chimney. Pennyworth was surprised, but it was a great relief. Every night since Dick's disappearance, Alfred had found Bruce sitting in the dark at the cross, unaware of the temperature - oblivious to the fact that he was freezing.
"Master Bruce?" Alfred called as he closed the door behind himself. The elderly man walked into the kitchen, noting the light was on and saw the apple pie sitting on the bench. Bruce had eaten! A large, well stacked fire was crackling in the fireplace too. Pennyworth's face lit up with a smile from his soul. Somehow, Bruce had located the path back from the abyss of grief and it looked like he was starting on the return journey.
"Master Bruce?"
"Alfred?" The butler moved back into the entrance hall and spotted his employer at the top of the stairs. Bruce insistently beckoned Alfred up the stairs, all the while growling into the cell phone he had clutched to his ear. "Look, you said fifteen minutes. It's been fifteen minutes..."
Alfred approached Wayne. Bruce pointed to the room beyond. "You don't seem to understand how...."
Alfred climbed the last few steps perplexed. He could see the soft glow of the heater in the room. As he stepped up to the door, he noted the buddle under a dozen blankets. For a split second Alfred allowed himself to think that maybe... but he dismissed such a thought. Miracles didn't happen to ordinary people. He entered the room and stopped beside the bed, peering down on the face of the person that Bruce had wrapped so tightly in blankets.
"Master Dick!"
Bruce shot into the room. "Shh. Let him sleep." Bruce returned to his call. "... I don't care... Dr. Thompkins must..."
Alfred Pennyworth saw everything with absolute clarity. He spun around and wrenched the phone from Bruce.
"Good evening. Your name please?... Nurse Devin. My name is Alfred Pennyworth. I wish to speak to Dr. Thompkins... My dear, I am old, tired and not easily impressed. I don't care if Dr. Thompkins is in surgery operating on the Pope, Queen of England and President of the United States all at the same time! I have a message that must be presented to her without delay. Failure to do so will not only precipitate my need to visit the hospital personally, something that would be most unpleasant for all concerned, but I am prepared to guarantee that Dr. Thompkins will have your job for even the slightest postponement, so important is this message."
Bruce's eyes widened with surprise. Alfred was something to behold when it came to getting things done. There hadn't been the slightest hint of aggression in the elderly man's voice. The tone echoed authority and calm assertiveness, but Bruce could hear the strain in the polished British vowels. Another probably wouldn't have noticed but Bruce recognized the emotion. He stepped forward and placed his hand on Alfred's arm in support.
"Thank you, Nurse Devin. The message?..." Alfred paused for a moment, his eyes flicking to Bruce and then Dick. "Please tell her that all chocolate cake is once again under threat at the Manor... Yes, I'm sure it sounds like a frivolous message to you, but Leslie will understand it. Thank you... I'll hold." Alfred glanced across at Bruce again. "She's passing on the message now. I assume we need to keep this a secret for a little while?"
"Chocolate cake?"
"Master Dick's fondness for chocolate cake is well-known to all who know him. Leslie will understand." Alfred's eyes fell on Dick.
"I don't have any answers, yet," Bruce replied in response to the question held on Alfred's face. "He's alive, exhausted to the point of collapse and he's been badly beaten. He wandered in here about half an hour ago. By the look of the cloak he was wearing...."
"Leslie." Alfred interrupted. He listened and a smile of relief radiated from his face. Leslie had understood the message and had come to the phone immediately. "Yes, he's home, but he is in need of your attention... Thank you." Alfred handed the phone back to Bruce. "She's on her way."
"You're incredible, Alfred."
"Something I have been trying to communicate for some time, Sir," Pennyworth replied, patting the hand Bruce had laid on his arm before leaning over Dick. His brow furrowed with sympathy as he studied the massive bruising to the side of his face. "Someone really worked him over."
"That was my initial reaction, but I'm not so sure. It could have happened in the river," Bruce whispered. "God only knows how he survived."
"I am sure the Almighty played his part," Alfred agreed.
Tim knocked lightly on the expansive oak door. The carving had been done over a century earlier by an artist without peer. When there was no answer, Tim took a key from his pocket.
"You have a key to the front door of Wayne Manor?" Roy asked, curiously.
"I lived here for a while."
Roy snorted. He was amazed Bruce hadn't taken it back. Roy followed the jean-clad teenager into the main hall and found himself caught in a time tunnel. Memories rushed up and consumed him. Images of him and Dick racing around these halls as youngsters. Of Alfred scolding them. Of him and Dick sealing up the shower with Bruce's silicone gun and filling it with water... of Dick's reaction to being replaced. Tears welled in Roy's eyes. "I'm sorry," he murmured. "I should have done this for you years ago."
"Huh?" Tim asked, curiously. "You okay?"
Roy strode further into the house calling "Bruce Wayne?"
Wayne appeared at the top of the stairs and stared down at the visitors with annoyance. "Quiet," he ordered.
"In your sanctimonious ass," Roy responded with volume.
Tim froze. Where the hell had that come from? The teenager expected to see Bruce come down the stairs like an angel of doom and rip Roy apart for that comment, but Wayne remained frozen, his eyes flashing with curiosity. "Roy..." Tim urged, rushing to his friend's side.
"Stay out of this, Kid. This is between me and Wayne." Roy shouldered by Tim and started up the stairs. "So where were you the day we buried Dick?"
"Roy!" Tim cried, rushing after him. Arsenal was moving into a very dangerous area. Bruce wasn't himself at the moment.
"Busy, huh? Something more important on?" Roy snarled. "Do you have any concept of what you meant to him? God only knows why, but he loved you. He couldn't see past that." Bruce didn't move, his face losing all colour.
"Roy! Please," Tim pleaded, latching onto Arsenal's arm. Roy viciously ripped himself free and continued up the long winding staircase, his voice echoing in the silent house. Alfred appeared in the doorway of a room further along the hall behind Bruce and shook his head.
"Was it a game to you? Did you enjoy hurting him the way you did? Or is your head so far up your ass that you had no idea of how much damage you and your self-righteous war against crime did to him?"
Tim stopped and watched as the distance between the two men closed. He couldn't read Bruce's face. He had no idea of how his mentor was going to react.
"He would of died for you... oh, that's right, HE DID! And you couldn't be bothered to attend his funeral. Explain that to me, Bruce. I'd love to hear your reasons for missing the funeral of the only person on this planet who actually believed that you're worth half of what you seem to think of yourself."
They were now face to face. Arsenal's hands balled into fists. "TELL ME!"
"Keep your voice down and follow me," Bruce growled in a hushed voice as spun around and walked back along the hall.
"Don't turn your back on me!" Roy shouted striding after him. Tim squeezed his eyes shut for a moment and then followed. He knew he would have to stand between the two of them at some point. "You may have turned your back on him but..."
Bruce turned around as he reached the door of one of the bedrooms. This time, his face showed great emotion.
"Either you be quiet, or you leave," Wayne growled..
"Who's going to make me? You? For Dick's sake, you're going to stand there and listen to what I've got to..." Bruce stepped to the side. Roy's gaze fell on the bed. He blinked. His heart missed a beat as his green eyes doubled in size. His mouth opened but no words were forthcoming.
"BRUCE! IT'S DICK!" Tim shrieked, pushing past Roy and rushing to his silent friend's side.
"Quiet!" Bruce snapped. Dick moved. Bruce stepped around Roy, forced Tim back and then watched Dick carefully, ready to do what was necessary to ensure his son got the rest he needed.
"Bruce?" Dick muttered, neither truly awake nor asleep.
"Shhh. Go back to sleep."
"I'm not tired," Dick mumbled, a sly grin creasing his lips.
"It was an order."
"You know what you can do with your order." By the time he finished the sentence, he was dead to the world.
Roy's mouth started opening and closing but nothing but half words, grunts and gasps emanated from him.
Bruce coaxed Dick's two astonished friends out into the hall.
"Ahh... hea...wha..."
"He's alive!" Tim cried.
"Tim, keep it down or I swear, someone is going to die!" Bruce snarled.
Roy shook his head and tried to assimilate what was happening. "HE'S ALIVE!"
"Quiet, both of you! He's exhausted. I don't want him disturbed."
"But... what... when... how... ?"
Bruce shrugged. "I don't have a lot of answers at the moment. He walked in here about half an hour ago dead on his feet. Fell asleep straight away. He's been sick and badly beaten. Leslie is on her way."
"He's alive! I don't get it. We searched up and down that river bank for days! He wasn't there!" Tim cried.
"Where's he been? It's been ten days!"
"I don't know, and I don't care. He's alive," Wayne snapped. Those two sentences summed up Bruce Wayne's feelings. He didn't know what had happened and he certainly couldn't give a damn. His boy was alive. "I asked you to come Tim because Hugo Strange visited earlier today and..." Bruce frowned as he reflected on what he remembered. "He would have killed me but for Deathstroke."
"Deathstroke?" Roy cried. "Slade Wilson?"
Bruce nodded. "Strange may try again. If he does, I want to ensure Dick is protected while I deal with him."
"Did he tell you anything about where he's been or what the hell happened?" Tim asked, astonished.
Bruce glanced back through the open doorway. "He can barely think straight."
Tim was beaming. "He's alive! Whooh!"
"Tim!" Bruce warned, pulling the door to.
The youth covered his mouth but that didn't stop his legs from jumping about like they had minds of their own.
Wayne's eyes were drawn to Roy who was staring at him. "You knew he was alive?" Roy whispered.
Bruce shook his head. "No, I didn't. I... I don't owe you an explanation, Roy. He's my son. What transpires between the two of us is none of your business. However, I appreciate you coming. Strange could turn up with others. I'm not asking you to protect me, but I am asking you to protect Dick at all costs."
Roy continued to stare at Bruce. "What did you call him?" he asked. "Your son?"
"Why should that shock you? You of all people know that Dick is my son." The words were soft and strained.
Roy's brow furrowed as the frustration he felt took root. "Have you ever told him that?"
"That is none of your damn business."
Roy's eyes widened with rage. "The hell it isn't. He's my best friend. I'm not the one who is ashamed to say I love him. He's like a brother to me and I'm not prepared to stand by and watch you screw around with his head any more. He's your son only when it suits you."
Tim stepped between the two men. "Roy, please. This isn't the time for this."
"It's the time," Bruce growled. He placed his hand on Tim's shoulder and guided the boy out of the way. "Harper, he's always been my son. Practically from the day he moved in here at the age of eight. I don't claim to have been the best parent in the world, but he means more to me than..." Bruce swallowed. "How dare you come into my house and question that."
Roy frowned. "What the hell am I supposed to think, Bruce? For Christ's sake, you replaced him. Not just Robin. You adopted Jason. How the hell do you think he felt about that?"
"He understood," Wayne snarled, but he couldn't maintain eye contact. Roy's words had hit the mark.
"The hell he did," the anger was now gone from Roy's voice. His purpose had changed. Beating Batman to a pulp would achieve nothing. Dick was alive and Roy was determined to make Bruce understand all that had happened in the past. "You say he means something to you... that he is your son, but you never show it. Not even to him."
"Dick understands. He always has."
"Maybe you're right, but is it so hard for you to show him that he does actually mean..." Roy's voice faded out as he stared into the hard emotionless face of Bruce Wayne. Harper decided that he was fighting a losing battle. Wayne just didn't get it.
Out of the blue, Bruce's face twisted. "Fathers aren't supposed to bury their children," he whispered. It was his own way of answering Roy's initial question... the reason he hadn't attended the funeral... a bridge he hoped would help Roy understand.
Roy's brow furrowed. He still couldn't profess to understand Bruce Wayne but in Wayne's face he saw the honest truth. Bruce really did love Dick, which was something Roy hadn't been certain of. The thought of something happening to Lian provided Roy with some understanding of a couple of Bruce's statements. Fathers should never bury their children and no one had the right to question a father's love for his child.
Roy Harper swallowed and shook his head slowly. "I'm well known for having foot in mouth syndrome, Bruce. It hits when I least expect it. Excuse me while I try to pry my boot from my big mouth," Roy apologised. "I had no right to come in here and... I'm sorry. I just... Dick means a lot to me."
"I've known you most of your life, Master Roy. You've always suffered from foot in mouth syndrome," Alfred commented, approaching the group. He laid his hand on Roy's shoulder. "Master Dick will be pleased to see you when awakes. I've just had word from Leslie. She's coming up the drive now. If you'll excuse me, I'll go and greet her." Alfred moved through the group and headed downstairs.
Bruce and Roy continued to stare at each other. Finally Bruce's head bobbed once. Roy wasn't sure if it was an acknowledgement of the fact Roy had been right, or an acceptance of Roy's apology.
"Dick will be pleased to see you, son," Wayne acknowledged softly. "And yes, I do understand what you have been trying to say, Roy, though you have all the finesse and tact of a walrus. You haven't changed at all." Bruce smiled and he offered his hand. Roy stared down at it stunned and then took it. "I want you to understand three things, though. I love my son; I have every intention of making sure he knows that; and if you raise your voice in this house again, I'll beat you senseless."
Roy grinned stupidly. He had never seen this side of Bruce Wayne. Clearly, this was the side Dick knew. Bruce smiled easily, turned and went back into son's room. Roy and Tim started to follow. "You wake him, and I swear, you'll die," Bruce whispered.
"Might be better if you wait out here, Tim. You know how much noise you make," Roy suggested.
"Me?! Roy, you're the one that's been shooting his mouth off."
"Quiet," came a restrained snarl from indoors.
Roy pointed to Tim. "He meant you."
"He meant both of us."
"Did not!"
"Did too!"
A low rumble from deep down in Bruce's chest advertised the fact that he hadn't been kidding. Both Roy and Tim clamped their mouths closed.
'Did not', Roy mouthed.
'Did too!'
PART EIGHT 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.