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. Thank you Stephanieff(), Missy May, Jen(), The People's Cat (for leaving feedback on every chapter), Cindy, skritchie, KTfanfic, Esther-Channah
who I haven't been able to send personal thanks to because I don't have your e-mail address. Your comments and support and very much appreciated.
Leahblueeyes my message to you keeps bouncing. I'm not sure why.
Bruce Wayne had experienced rage before, but nothing like this. This was something altogether different. Something raw and guttural that came, not from anger, but from guilt. He had failed to protect Dick at a time when his boy had needed him. Every parent has an innate drive to protect their child... and Bruce had failed. The fury at himself and those who had attacked Dick ignited in his heart as he set the chopper down on the uneven and unstable ground in the wasteland. For several seconds Bruce sat frozen. The moment he had detected the six men huddled under some concrete slabs abandoned in the no man's land, Bruce had felt the emotional control he had spent his life maintaining slowly slipping away. For the first time, he didn't try to stop it happening. He permitted his rage, guilt and grief to amalgamate into a single emotion without a name - the closest thing? The pits of hell itself.
With a single thought in mind - the annihilation of the spineless bastards who had beaten his son - Bruce stepped from the chopper and strode toward the artificial cave created by debris from the Earthquakes. Six men cautiously crawled from it. Even over the distance, the putrid smell of their unwashed bodies wafted across to Bruce. Their clothes were filthy and torn. Their bodies were battered and bruised. Dick had obviously given as good as he had got Wayne thought proudly, but then, he'd expect nothing less.
Bruce stopped walking and set his legs a shoulder's width apart. He glared at the despicable examples of the human race in front of him, his huge hands balling into fists. These mongrels had attacked Dick when he had been ill, exhausted and injured. Wayne's anger bubbled, close to reaching breaking point. He knew he needed to hold on to the final few threads of restraint until he was sure this was the group who had beaten Dick. Then he would teach them the error of their ways.
"Did you come across a wounded man about a day or so ago?" he demanded. There was no true voice. Just air forced out through his tightly clenched jaw. The thugs exchanged wary glances.
The billionaire's eyes honed in on the wrist of one of the men. He was wearing a silver watch; the silver watch Alfred had given Dick for his 21st birthday. "You met an injured man a day ago," Bruce snarled. No longer was it a question. The veins in Bruce's neck stuck out like chords. He'd found them.
"Who wants to know?" one of the men growled.
"His father!" Bruce roared. The valve controlling Bruce's anger blew with spectacular effect. Judgment day had arrived. The battle that followed was short - total annihilation took less than 90 seconds.
VVVVVVVVVV
Night settled over Gotham, but it brought no respite. Robin pitched forward after taking a blow to the side of his head. Normally he would have dodged it, but there were so many and the teenager was exhausted - mentally, physically and emotionally. As he raised himself up onto all fours, he spotted the knife arcing toward him. Knowing he couldn't roll out of its path, he braced himself, but the blade was jarred loose by a well aimed blow from another party before it could descend. Robin raised his eyes as Arsenal leapt over him.
"Kid?" he cried, as he fended off another blow.
"I'm okay," Tim replied, dragging himself to his feet. He and Arsenal were surrounded and the mob was baying for blood.
"Robin, we need some help," Roy panted.
VVVVVVVV
Silently, Bruce deposited the silver watch on the small table beside Dick's bed, the glow of the hall light reflecting off Grayson's badly bruised face. That hadn't happened in the river, but Bruce could put it behind him now. He'd dealt with it. Not revenge exactly... justice.
As he removed his coat, Grayson stirred. Bruce smiled down at him. Dick glanced sideways and caught sight of the watch and shook his head. "I had intended going back to get it when I was feeling stronger."
"Well, now you don't have to."
Dick started to pull himself up, but only got a few inches before Bruce took his shoulders and lifted him. "Thanks."
"How do you feel?" Wayne asked, arranging the blankets around Dick.
"Better. Still tired." He grinned. "And just a little sore. Reckon I could use something to eat too."
Bruce drew in his breath and decided it was now or never. "I've got some things I need to tell you and..." He frowned.
"What?" Dick asked curiously. "If you're going to tell me that you and Selina are sleeping together, I already know." His lips parted in a sly smile and his eyebrows bounced. "If it isn't about time."
Bruce shook his head, his frustration growing. Every time he had tried to tell Dick what he needed to he got interrupted.
"Come on, Bruce, you can't lie to me. I can see straight through you. Besides..."
"No, this isn't about Selina. It's about... hell," he mumbled, beginning to pace.
Dick watched him and his concern prickled. "Are you in some sort of trouble?"
"No!" Bruce clamped his mouth shut. He hadn't meant to shout.
"Ooookaaay. It's none of my business. But then, it's never any of my business is it?" Dick pointed out softly.
Bruce stared at him, watching as the pain of rejection flashed across Dick's blue eyes before fading quickly. Bruce had almost missed it... almost. He had seen that look before. He remembered it distinctly from the night when Dick had been shot - that night when he had forced Dick out of life through fear. You replaced him.... the hell he understood... It was all such a mess. "That's just it," he whispered. "It is your business, Dick. All of it is your business. I... God, why is this so hard?"
Dick frowned.
At that moment, Alfred strode into the room, a newspaper tucked under his arm, his face lined with worry. "Sir. I have Master Timothy on the phone and..."
"Not now!" Bruce thundered. Alfred blinked. Bruce swallowed. "I'm sorry, Alfred." His eyes flashed a sincere apology for taking out his frustration on his old friend. Alfred's head bobbed once with understanding and acceptance of the apology. "Please tell him I'll ring back when I can."
"Sir, he said it was an emergency."
Bruce cursed quietly, rose to his feet and strode from the room. Soon such interruptions would be in the past, Wayne assured himself.
Alfred watched him and shook his head slowly.
"Alf?"
Alfred turned slowly and handed Dick the paper. "Gotham is falling apart. The dregs of society have banded together in Batman's absence."
Dick unfolded the paper and stared down at the three headlines on the front page. "Anarchy Reigns", "Army sends for reinforcements" and "Commissioner Gordon's behind the scenes push for Batman memorial."
"He has given up," Alfred explained. "Since he collapsed after searching for you he has ignored the plight in Gotham. When we found you, I had hoped that he would again become Batman both for his own and Gotham's sakes, but he has refused all calls for help from Master Timothy."
Dick raised his eyes to Alfred. "Tim's asking for help?" This was more serious than he had believed.
"Oh, no. No you don't," Alfred admonished, quickly. "You are not leaving that bed. You are injured. Master Timothy has help in the form of Arsenal but..."
"To stop it, it will require Batman," Dick murmured, scanning the paper. He couldn't believe things had become so bad so quickly. This is what a world without Batman would be like, he realized.
Bruce walked back into the room and froze when he spotted the newspaper. He had not looked at one for days, but he knew what was being said. Dick lowered the newspaper, his ice blue eyes holding the angry accusation. "What the hell is all of this?" Grayson demanded.
"All of what?" Bruce asked, quietly.
"Jim Gordon thinks you're dead!"
"He knows Bruce Wayne is alive."
Dick thrust the paper at Bruce. "And what about Batman?"
"Batman was a temporary band-aid on a problem I could not fix."
Dick's brow furrowed. There was so much defeat in his voice. Dick had heard Bruce's voice echo so many things but never defeat. "So that's it? You're throwing it all in? You're just going to curl up and die?"
"On the contrary," Bruce stated calmly, walking toward Dick and sitting down in the chair beside the bed. "I'm going to start living. Dick, I have spent so much of my life worrying about other people. I want to start worrying about me. Is that such a terrible thing?"
Dick eyed Bruce, carefully. "No," he admitted. "But... Bruce... Gotham needs you."
Wayne smiled with amusement and shook his head. "I had convinced myself of that, but the fact of the matter is, life goes on. Gotham didn't pause for a moment when it thought you had died... but I did. Dick, I want... I want us to spend more time together."
"That's going to be difficult because I'm going to be really busy," Grayson stated, harshly.
"Why?"
"I'm going to have to share my time between Bludhaven and helping Tim out in Gotham."
Bruce stared at him. "But..."
"I can't just turn my back on the people who depend on me, Bruce. And neither can you."
Wayne rose to his feet. "Yes we can! We're not doing it anymore, Dick. We can't keep fighting the battles of faceless people. I want to live a normal life. I want to spend time with the people who mean something to me. It isn't our responsibility to look after humanity."
"If we don't, who will?" The question hung and the silence that followed screamed in the room. Dick picked up the television remote control and turned the tv at the end of the bed on. Images of chaos filled the screen. He changed the channel. This one too showed Gotham at her worst. Dick continued to flick until he spotted someone he knew. Bruce's eyes were drawn to the screen which showed Commissioner Gordon conducting a press conference. Dick turned the volume up.
"... that the army is calling in reinforcements so they can take complete control of Gotham from you?" one of the two dozen reporters asked.
Jim Gordon's drawn face and tired eyes flashed with anger. He looked like he hadn't slept for days. "I have already explained to you that..."
"And is it true that the Joker is collecting together all of the criminals in the city to form a super criminal organisation?" another shouted.
"That is an unsubstantiated rumour. At the moment the police and army...."
"Still no Batman or Nightwing?" another reporter interrupted. "So are the Joker's claims true - that Nightwing is dead and Batman is too scared to face...
"That is a load of crap!" Gordon's ruddy face went redder. "If Batman was capable of helping us, he would!" Jim's own face flashed with surprise. It had slipped out. The department refused to acknowledge Batman's existence.
The Mayor stepped up to the microphone and quickly gave the official line. "Batman is nothing more than an urban legend. There is no evidence that such a man exists."
Jim dropped his head and he cursed. For years he had been forced to support that. He no longer could. Batman had been real... and he'd been a friend.
The reporters ignored the Mayor and continued to direct their questions at Commissioner Gordon.
"You've met Batman, Commissioner?"
"You know Batman exists?" Still Jim kept his eyes on his boots.
"So you believe he is dead?"
Gordon swallowed and raised his face. "He has to be. He wouldn't turn his back on us."
Dick glanced across at Bruce. Wayne's face was twisted with emotion. "They aren't so faceless are they?" Dick whispered.
Bruce looked across at his boy. "I can't do it, Dick. I feel for Jim, but… Batman was a dream I had. The dream became a nightmare. I set out to prevent others from losing their family and I couldn't even..."
Abruptly, the image on the television changed. The Joker's face leered at the millions of viewers, his cruel smile inches from the camera.
"Greetings fellow Gothamites. This is your new Emperor. Emperor Joker. It's got a nice ring to it, doesn't it? At 10:00 this evening, I will be officially taking over Gotham. If Luthor can be President then I can be Gotham's Emperor." He laughed at the idea. "My first decree is simple. All prisoners will be turned loose. What beautiful mayhem it will cause. My second decree: all police and army to be obliterated. My third decree: well, that's about it. I have the allegiance of over five hundred decent, hardworking criminals in the city who are, at this very moment, making assaults on strategic positions around the city. The Mayor's office. The central police station. Gotham National Back. Wayne Corp. and a few others. Soooo, Bats if you have the guts to face me, I'll be right here waiting."
The camera panned back, revealing Gotham stadium. The Joker was standing in the centre of the field.
"Let the reign of Gotham's Emperor begin!" The Joker began to laugh. The laughter built and built to crescendo
Without warning he stopped and lunged toward the camera. "I'm waiting Bats... if you have the guts to face me... and now we will return you to your normal viewing."
The image flickered and then the interview between Commissioner Gordon and the press reappeared.
Dick Grayson shot a look at his former guardian. Wayne was staring straight through the screen.
"Bruce, you can't let this happen."
Wayne rose to his feet and shook his head in true torment. "I can't. I..." He had failed. It was all too hard. He had seen what the storm had done. Watched as those who trusted him had been washed away... even his own son. His voice dropped to a whisper of agony. "I can't do it on my own, Dick."
Dick swung his legs over the edge of the bed and dragged himself upright with a grunt of pain. Alfred lunged forward to support the young man. "You aren't on your own, Bruce. You're right. It's too big for one man, but you knew that. That's why you assembled a team. They're out there waiting for your orders."
Bruce stared at Dick. In Wayne's face Grayson saw the first glimmer of belief.
"You took me in. You gave me a home, but more importantly, you gave me family and you taught me how to make a difference. To stand up for what I believed and... 'To fight against crime and corruption and never swerve from the path of justice.'"
Wayne's eyes grew wide. Those words! They were the pledge Bruce had made to himself the night he had first pulled on the cape. It was the oath he had made Dick take when he became Robin so many years before.
Dick gently pulled away from Alfred, stepped toward Bruce, waited until he had the older man's gaze and held it. "You started this, Bruce. Now you go and finish it," Grayson growled. Bruce stared from Dick to Alfred and back to Dick. Grayson nodded his encouragement.
Alfred walked forward and from his pocket he withdrew a small, handheld communicator. With a smile he handed it to his employer. "You will need this to assemble your team."
Bruce glanced at it and raised his eyes to Dick, still in two minds. He had stared his own mortality in the face the day he had lost his son. He had realized then that he had been defining himself by some arbitrary figure of the night he had created, rather than by the concrete relationships he shared with those he loved. For the first time, he had seen his life with perfect clarity. He had become the avenger of the night at the expense of everything else... everything including Dick.
Bruce drew in a long deep breath, his eyes drawn back to the television screen that showed his city in the grip of Armageddon. "I can't just turn my back on the people who depend on me, Bruce. And neither can you." His son's words had struck a chord.
Dick stepped closer, cutting off the view of the television and just as they had so many years before, his and Bruce's souls touched.
I understand what you're feeling, Bruce. But you have to be who you are. You can try to ignore it, but you can't hide from it. Batman is a part of you. An important part. Batman and Bruce Wayne can co-exist. We'll find a balance together, but right now, Batman is needed.
Wayne's face twisted. He understood every element of the message that Dick was communicating via the inexplicable connection they shared.
"I wish I could go with you, boss, but I'd only be in the way. Go on. A lot of people out there are depending on you."
Wayne reached out his hand and placed it on his son's shoulder. Dick was right on all accounts. Batman was a part of him he couldn't hide from. He had lost faith in himself, but his family had never doubted him. He had forgotten his mission, but his son had been there to renew his focus. He would need Dick's help to find the balance he needed, but it was obvious that wouldn't be a problem.
Just as important was the fact that Dick had reminded him that he wasn't alone.
Bruce turned to Alfred who nodded. The elderly man could see the change immediately. It shone from Bruce's eyes. "It is good to have you back, Sir."
"Go get'em," Dick encouraged with a relieved grin.
Bruce squeezed Dick's shoulder, nodded once, strode from the room and raised the communicator to his lips. The voice that came from him was deep and echoed absolute authority. "Oracle, Batman. Open all channels. I need to speak to everyone NOW."
Dick and Alfred watched Batman go - there was no mask or cape, but then the mask itself had little to do with it. Batman was something that came from deep down within Bruce. The person who had just left Dick's bedroom was Gotham's Dark Knight.
The butler assisted Dick back down onto the bed and then handed him a second communicator. "I thought you may like to know what's going on."
Dick grinned. "You were pretty sure of yourself, weren't you, Alf?"
Alfred feigned innocence as he tucked the blanket around his charge. "I have no idea of what you mean, Sir." Dick's eyes narrowed. Alfred winked at him. "I knew that if I told you of the trouble you would be able to find him. You found him once when he was lost. I knew you would again. Thank you."
Dick nodded and whispered, "He found me when I was lost, a long time ago." Grayson smiled at Alfred. "And so did you."
Alfred patted Dick's arm as the younger man turned on the communicator.
"Understood, Batman," Huntress acknowledged.
"Catwoman, Wayne Corp."
"I don't remember volunteering to help," she snapped.
"I don't have time for games, Catwoman."
"It will cost you a dinner," she shot. For several moments there was silence.
"Done," Batman whispered.
A sly smile formed on Dick's pale face. "The woman is right for him. When the hell will the big dumb lug realize that?"
"I get the feeling he is beginning to," Alfred chuckled.
"Arsenal, Gotham National Bank."
"Yo," was the only response.
"Robin, Police Central. They'll be going after Jim. I want you to get him out of there."
"Yes, Sir. Welcome back, Boss." There was a mixture of relief and excitement in Tim's voice.
"Oracle, I need a couple of camera crews sent to Gotham Stadium."
"Camera crews? Understood... Anything else?" she asked.
"Not at the moment. Keep an eye on things and keep me informed. The rest of you, once you have secured your location, report back to me. We need to break this open tonight."
"Let's do it!" Robin cried.
"All for one and one for all!" Roy shouted.
Alfred took the communicator from Dick's hand. "Now, you lay back and sleep."
"Not sure I'll be able to. They've got a hell of a job ahead of them." It wasn't going to be easy. Batman couldn't be everywhere at once, but that was what was needed. Not because Bruce could physically stop every criminal in the city but because the moment they realized he was back they would slink back to where they'd come from. Bruce needed all hands on deck if he was to pull this off. "I really should be out there with them."
Alfred adjusted the pillow behind Dick's head as the injured man stiffly slid down in the bed. "Out of the question. As you said yourself, you'd just be in the way."
Dick scowled.
"Besides, I don't see what is worrying you. Tim is excited. Catwoman is keeping Batman on his toes. Roy is acting like a child. Oracle is monitoring everything and will keep the team well informed and Batman is going to recapture the Joker. All is as it should be."
Dick sighed deeply and shut his eyes. He felt exhausted and his battered body was craving sleep. "You'll keep me up-to-date?" Dick checked.
"Should there be anything I feel you should be told, I will wake you."
One of Dick's eyes opened. "Why don't I believe that?"
"Because I am lying though my teeth," Alfred chuckled. "Relax, son. They can handle it. They always do. Your need to rejoin them will only be fulfilled once you have permitted your body to mend and that is going to require generous amounts of slumber."
Dick lay for a few more seconds, cursed and then grimaced uncomfortably as he sat up. "Can you turn the tv on?" Despite the fatigue harassing him, he had to know what was going on.
"Welcome to my world," Alfred muttered. Waiting and wondering was something Alfred had learned to deal with over the years. "Son, you need to rest. Dr. Thompkins said it was essential. Watching what is happening out there will only..." He could see that his words were a waste of time. Then again, Alfred was aware of the fact that Dick was fighting a losing battle with sleep. In a few minutes, the wounded man would succumb, despite his desire to remain awake. Alfred picked up the remote control and handed it to his stubborn patient. "You're impossible."
"I do my best," Dick agreed, smiling. The smile faltered and fell as the screen filled with scenes of Gotham in torment. "Maybe I should call in the Titans?"
"With all due respect, Master Dick, would that not give the impression that Batman has lost control. He must handle this his way."
"What if he can't handle it?" Dick whispered, watching images of gangs of hoodlums roaming the streets turning over cars and smashing windows. Things were really bad this time.
Alfred sat down on the edge of the bed. "He will handle it. He knows what he's doing." After a few minutes, Alfred took the remote from his weary patient's hand as Dick began blinking.
Behind them, the Joker's face filled the screen again as he bypassed normal programming.
"Knock, knock?" he asked.
A voice from off screen answered, "Who's there?"
"Not Batman." The Joker began laughing. His laughter built and built causing tears to stream down his face. "Not Batman," he repeated. "You're afraid, aren't you, you great night rat? I'm waiting for you. I'm ready. You're new emperor is waiting.... and again we return you to your regular viewing."
Dick frowned. "I'm ready," he mumbled, quietly. Grayson released his breath slowly. "Not, waiting. He's ready. He knows Batman will come."
"I'm sure he does. He..."
Again, the transmission was interrupted and the Joker began singing to the tune of Frere Jacques.
"Bats isn't coming. Bats isn't coming.
No he's not. No he's not.
He doesn't want to face me
He knows he can't beat me
Bats is dead. Bats is dead.
And if he isn't dead," the Joker snarled, his song finished. "He's a coward." Dramatically he threw down a glove. "I'm challenging you, Batman. Winner takes Gotham. Loser... dies!"
Alfred switched off the television, turned to the silent bed and sighed. It had been inevitable.
© 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.