I am using them without permission, however I have not and don't expect to make money from this.
Rated PG-13 : violence, language, sexuality, some mature concepts.
Reviews are greatly appreciated.
It started in the late afternoon, he would remember later. That was when everything started to go straight to hell.
Dick was in the living room, reading, trying to keep his eyes open. His late night visit to the Batcave had taken its toll, despite the hours he had slept afterwards. As he was wondering whether to just give up, drop the book on the floor and close his eyes, he heard it. A demanding voice. A woman. And one he knew all too well.
She must be out in the foyer... no way she wouldn't see him if he tried for the stairs. Too bad he wasn't in the study, where the clock and the stairway down to the cave were, but no way to get in there without being seen, either. He stood up, looking around. Might be able to get through a window... but he was probably overreacting; she must have come to see Bruce, and Alfred would get rid of her...
And then it was too late for escape, as the voice came rapidly nearer, with Alfred's lower tones protesting. She appeared in the doorway, catching sight of him as she walked by, and freezing, staring. Alfred was right behind her. He gave Dick an apologetic look before disappearing.
"Dick!"
"Barbara... What - what are you doing here?"
"I came here looking for Bruce, to find out where you really are. And now I know."
"Look, I can explain."
She advanced a few steps into the room, blue eyes glaring, cheeks almost matching her red hair, and crossed her arms. "Well?"
"I - I just got back in town. My uncle got better, so I decided to come back. Kind of a last minute thing."
"And why did you come here, instead of your apartment?"
"Well, I had to see Bruce about something."
"Really? When Alfred says he's not here?"
"I was waiting for him." He waved at the couch. "Found a book and was waiting."
"Must be important, whatever you had to discuss with him."
"Yeah, it is."
"Anything you want to tell me about?"
"It's just work. You wouldn't be interested."
"Try me." Her eyes narrowed.
This was getting him nowhere, and he didn't like being on the defensive like this. "What's with the interrogation, anyway?" he demanded. "If you're mad I didn't call-"
"Right, the phone calls," she interrupted. "Where were you when you made them? Right here?"
"I - what do you mean?" he stammered, caught off-guard.
"It's not going to work this time, Dick," she said, taking a step closer. "I didn't remember you ever mentioning an uncle, so I did some checking. Your father was an only child. Your mother had a sister. Not an uncle in sight."
"He could be my aunt's husband. Did you think of that?"
"Yes, I did. She was married, but her husband died five years ago. I even checked your grandparents, in case you had a great-uncle floating around. Nope. No living uncles of any kind."
Caught - what could he do? With no other option, Dick tried to distract her with anger. "Why the hell were you checking up on me anyway?"
But she didn't take the bait. "Then I looked for any record of a plane flight to California with you on it. Nothing."
"You're not supposed to be able to see those records."
She gave him a tight smirk. "I have my sources. And don't bother saying you rented a car. I checked that too."
"I drove my own car."
"Then why was it parked in front of your building the day after Bruce said you had left? It was gone a couple of days later. And now - it's in Bruce's garage. That was the first thing I checked when I got here."
"Uh..." He stopped, unable to think of anything to say.
"And the address you gave me for your uncle doesn't exist. You lied about the whole thing."
"Look..." He spread his hands. "Whatever you're thinking, it's not true."
"I don't know what to think!" Her icy manner cracked for the first time as her lips trembled. "You vanish without a word... I was so worried, I went looking for you, and then Bruce told me that story... I knew something was wrong. After you called, I - I had to find out!" Her face and voice softened. "What's going on, Dick?"
"Nothing." He sighed, searching for some explanation she might believe. "I just - needed some time. Had to get away."
"From what? Me?"
"No, of course not!" He reached for her, but she avoided his touch. "Just - stuff at work, and then Kathy..." A sharp stab of guilt went through him at the way he was using Kathy's death as an excuse.
"And I guess Bruce needed you to comfort him."
"Well, I guess you could say..." He took another look at her face. "Hey, it's nothing like that! Bruce is my friend, but that's all!"
"Oh, I know, but..." Barbara sighed helplessly, and then looked more closely at him. There was a note of concern in her voice when she asked, "What happened to your face?"
"It's nothing." His hand went to the still visible marks on his cheek. "Just an accident. I fell on the stairs. Banged myself up a little, but I'm fine now."
"Uh huh." That closed look was back. "I want to know what's going on. The truth this time."
"Nothing. Like I said, I just needed to get away and rest a little, and Bruce let me come here. I'm sorry I lied to you, I really am, but I just didn't feel like talking about it."
Barbara stared at him for a few moments, her expression becoming colder. "All right. Fine. I'll leave you alone then. Permanently." She started for the doorway.
"Babs, please..."
"I'm sorry, Dick, but I just don't believe you. And this isn't the first time I think you've lied to me." She turned to look at him directly again. "You aren't the person I thought you were."
"So that's it, then?"
"I guess so. Unless you want to start being honest."
When she started walking again, he didn't stop her.
The next hour seemed to pass in a haze. Alfred's attempts to be comforting. His own thoughts veering wildly between grief, guilt, anger, and regret. And anxiety. Barbara was smart. Even smarter than he had thought. What if she figured it out? She would never tell - but she was angry. What if she told her father? He probably already suspected, and he'd never tell, that wouldn't be a problem - but Barbara didn't understand, she didn't know that Dick's life, and maybe Bruce's, depended on keeping that secret. Someday she might let it slip out.
For the first time, he fully appreciated what Bruce had gone through with the various women in his life. The toll secrets and deception invariably took. The doubts, the reluctance to trust. The wall that seemed to grow between you and those you love, if they don't know that central fact of your life.
Did he love Barbara? The truth was he didn't know. Did he trust her? Yes, but not enough to share a secret that could have deadly repercussions. Would it be better for everyone to just let her go? Probably.
"Are you all right, sir?"
Dick looked up to see Alfred's concerned face, and realized he had been just sitting on the sofa, staring at the floor, for what had probably been a long time. "Sure, I'm okay," he answered, trying for a smile.
"Love can be very difficult. I know."
"Yeah, I'm finding that out." It occurred to Dick to wonder, looking up at him. Alfred, who had never married, as far as he knew, who had never talked about his personal life. What secrets did he have that had made him so familiar with the difficulty of love?
"Miss Gordon is an admirable young woman. Perhaps you can find a way around this situation. Get back together with her."
"I don't think so. Not without telling her the truth."
"Would that be so bad?"
"I don't know." Dick sighed. "I honestly don't know." He got up. "I think I'll see if Bruce is back yet."
"Master Bruce has certainly had experience with this sort of thing, but I'm not entirely sure he's a proper example to follow."
"Yeah." Dick smiled again. "Thanks, Alf."
"I haven't done anything, really. But you're welcome."
Bruce was there when he reached the bottom of the stairway down to the Batcave, in costume except for cowl, cape, and gloves and busy among his supplies and weapons. He glanced up as Dick approached and then turned his attention back to his work.
"You're back."
"Not for long."
Dick fidgeted for a few moments, watching Bruce ignore him, and then said what was on his mind. "Barbara came by the house."
That got his attention. "Barbara? She didn't see you, did she?"
"She sure did. Came looking for me. She did a freakin' background check on me. Found out I don't have an uncle, and that I didn't go to California."
"What did you tell her?"
"Nothing. All she knows is that I lied to her. But that was enough. She dumped me."
Bruce looked up sharply again. "That's too bad. But it was inevitable." His face tightened, eyes drifting away. "It never works. Not when the woman isn't... not when she doesn't know."
But it could have worked for you and Kathy... Dick left the words unsaid. He dropped into a chair nearby and watched. "What are you doing?"
"Getting a little special equipment together."
"What's up? Find anything? Did you locate the Malek brothers?"
"Yes, one of them."
Dick sat up eagerly. "Well? Did he know anything?"
"Yes."
"What? Tell me!"
Bruce looked and sounded reluctant, but he answered. "The Joker's holed up in the old Marquis theater. And that's where I'm heading."
"The Marquis..." Dick watched for a few more moments. The Joker. Finally. The man who had killed Kathy, almost killed him, who had caused Bruce so much pain, and had been indirectly responsible for his own break-up with Barbara... The sudden fury he felt, the desire for revenge; it swept into him like a wave, pure and cold, charging him with energy. They could find the Joker tonight, bring him in, put him back where he belonged, and all of this could be over. It wouldn't bring Kathy back, but it would help.
"I'm going with you," he said, standing up.
Bruce didn't even look up. "No, you're not," he said, his voice calm but definite.
"I have to, Bruce. You can understand that. I'm in good enough shape."
"Doesn't matter. You're not going."
"Why? I can help you!"
"I can't let you get hurt again. Or worse."
"Bruce... Look, I understand. But this is important to me. I cared about Kathy too. I want to be a part of getting the Joker, even if I have to be - just a lookout or something." He stepped closer. "I have to do this," he repeated.
"I'm sorry, Dick." Bruce had looked up at last, his face remote but not unsympathetic. "But you're not going."
"Do you think I'm not ready? Or is it just that it's the Joker? I'm going to have to go back out there sooner or later. Why not now, when it really counts?"
There was a pause, as Bruce got up and began to pull on his gloves, not meeting Dick's gaze again. "You're not going back out there."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean you're not going to put yourself in danger anymore. You're going to have a normal life from now on. Nightwing has retired."
"Retired?" Dick said blankly.
"Yes. I should never have allowed you and Kathy to do this in the first place. I should have known it would end up this way. Now she's dead, and you almost died." He finally met Dick's eyes. "Well, it's never going to happen again."
Dismayed and shaken, Dick took a deep breath to steady himself and said, "Don't you think that should be my decision? It's my life. My choice to make. I need to be Nightwing."
"You can live without it."
"But I don't want to. You're not being reasonable."
"This is the only reasonable way. Can't you see that?"
"Then why haven't you given up being Batman? I have just as many reasons to do this as you do. I'm not quitting, no matter what you say. I'll do it on my own if I have to."
Bruce seemed to sigh just a fraction, his head seemed to droop. Then he straightened and faced Dick again with a resolute expression. "Look, I didn't want to have to say this. But... hasn't it become obvious that you're not cut out for it?"
"What are you talking about?"
"Do I have to spell it out? You and Kathy went up against the Joker alone. You failed. Now she's dead. You weren't good enough to beat him, or to save her."
"Not good enough...?" Dick stared at him numbly. The thought, the doubt, had haunted him, but he had assured himself that it wasn't true, just his own guilt at being alive when she had died... but to hear it from someone else, especially Bruce...
"Face it, it's true. You have to give this up before you get killed, or someone else dies because of you. And there's another thing. If you hadn't become Nightwing, Kathy might not have decided to become Batwoman. How much longer before someone else tries it too, and gets hurt or killed, and it will be your fault as much as her death was."
"My fault?!" Another stab of uncertainty and guilt, sharpening the surge of rage that quickly drowned it. "I guess it hasn't occurred to you that you're the one Kathy was copying! If her being Batwoman was anyone's fault, it was yours!"
Bruce's face tightened. "But you made it worse, making it look like anyone can do this."
"So now I'm just anyone? Maybe you just don't want to believe anyone else could do what the all-powerful Batman can do!"
"It takes ability, skill, and dedication. You're not up to it. I shouldn't have encouraged you, and I can't take the responsibility for the damage you might cause in the future." Bruce's expression was stony. "I loved Kathy, and now, because of you, she's gone."
He shouldn't say it, he knew that in some corner of his mind, but fury, hurt, guilt, and self-doubt had combined inside him to the point that he no longer cared. Dick reached for the words he sensed would be most painful, and lashed out with them. "You loved her? Oh sure you did, now that she's dead and you don't have to do anything about it. I mean, just listen to yourself. You can't take the responsibility. You can't take any blame. This is all about you, isn't it? You didn't care about Kathy, you don't care about me, you're nothing but a heartless bastard who never loved anyone in his life!"
"Dick..." Bruce's voice was soft, but his eyes had gone cold and hard as ice.
"I bet you didn't give a shit about your parents, either; they're just a good excuse to go around beating people up-"
He saw it coming, but too late to avoid it. Bruce's fist hit him in the jaw, leaving his head spinning. Stunned, he staggered, and fell when another blow struck his face. Then he was blinking up, dazed, at the man towering over him, fists clenched, his face an unrecognizable mask of rage. Dick gasped, fear washing away any other emotion, shrinking back as Bruce seemed about to bend down and hit him again.
But he didn't. Instead Bruce seemed to control himself with an effort, and stepped back. "Get out," he said in a low growl of anger. "You want to kill yourself, fine. Just leave me out of it. Get out of my sight. And out of my house. And out of my city." With a last glare, he swept his cape onto his shoulders, pulled his cowl on, and headed for the Batmobile. In another moment he was gone.
TBC...