Epilogue

Part One: The Caped Crusader

Alfred was once again waiting patiently for his employer's return.

The Batmobile came to a stop and the Batman stepped out, shoulders sagging. He looked tired. He looked old.

"You didn't tell him, did you?" Alfred said, tone almost accusing, but mostly consoling. He knew the inner trial that Batman would have to go through to admit he was wrong—especially in the face of the young lad he had wronged.

"No," Batman said tersely. And in that moment, he was no longer the intimidating Dark Knight, but a mere man, a father who didn't want to see his son grow up and leave the nest, who refused to see the simple truth. How stupid these young people can be, Alfred mused, especially when the bond of love between parent and child comes into play.

"And how is young Master Richard?"

"He seems to have recovered. He isn't ready to fight yet, but…he'll be all right."

"Is that a deduction from the detective?" Alfred asked teasingly.

Batman smiled a genuine smile. "No. It's simple fact."

"But you did not part well, I take it?"

The smile vanished. "No."

"He has his own life to live, Bruce," Alfred said. "I cannot count the times I've wanted you to stop fighting, especially when you were younger and first starting out. But I kept silent because I knew how driven you were. Perhaps Master Richard doesn't have the same intensity you do, but his intentions are no less than your own.

"You raised him well, Bruce. He fights with passion and exuberance. He is largely untouched by the tragedy that befell both your families. Where you had only your sorrow to draw strength from, he had you. But even strength can be smothering, Bruce. Holding onto him as you did, sheltering him…it wasn't right. And so he left. But he took a part of you with him. The part that teaches and the part that learns.

"He almost killed a man, Bruce. Some might have lost control, others might have never donned the cape and cowl ever again. But since Master Richard is not here with you, I assume he's still clinging to it. He's making his own mistakes, Bruce, like you did. And he's learning and learning well. He had a good teacher, after all. Indeed, I think that even if he did kill—heaven forbid it ever happens—I'm positive that Master Richard would grow stronger, purer of heart, from even so dark an experience."

Batman was silent throughout Alfred's impassioned speech, but now he spoke. "Do you really believe that?" He sounded hopeful, sounded desperate to hear an affirmation.

Alfred nodded. "Of course I believe it, Bruce. And so should you. His best traits are taken after you, after all. Now come upstairs. I have a lovely roast goose waiting for us in the dining room…."

Part Two: The Boy Wonder

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Raven asked from where she leaned on Robin's door.

Robin was buttoning up his shirt. "Definitely. Batman was right about one thing, Raven. I'm in no condition to fight. Not until I've really reconciled. So I have to do this."

"Its going to hurt, you know. In the worst way possible."

Robin sighed. "I…I know." Robin—Dick Grayson—looked in the mirror. The costume lay discarded on his desk, mask, cape, and all. He was dressed in street clothes, a rarity in Titan Tower. It seemed so long since he saw himself like this. God, he thought, that was when I was still living in Wayne Manor. So long ago….

"All right," he said to fortify himself, "I'm ready."

As he walked past Raven, the dark-haired girl grabbed his elbow. "It will hurt," she said quietly. Then she kissed him lightly on the cheek. "But I'm sure you'll do fine."

He smiled. "Thank you. For everything."

And then he found himself standing before the hospital. The trip was shorter than he wanted it to be, faster than was comfortable. But he steeled himself nonetheless and walked in.

Knocking on Slade, Slade Wilson's door was the hardest thing Robin—Dick—had to do. But he did it.

A familiar voice told him to enter.

"You look different without the mask," Slade, Slade Wilson said.

"So do you," Dick replied.

"I won't bother with real names. We'll only be at each other's throats after I'm out of here."

"Funny, I actually wanted to talk about that. Real names, I mean." Dick sat down on a stool next to Slade, Slade Wilson's bed. He sighed. Now was the hard part. The part that hurt. "I'm…I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"For putting you here. I didn't…I didn't mean…aw, hell. I thought I was better than this, you know? I'm Robin, Boy Wonder, Batman's former partner. I could do anything. Life's a big game and I'm winning. Bust up some bad guys, throw them in the slammer. All that. I never thought I could kill someone."

"You didn't. I'm still alive."

"You know what I mean. If you hadn't been wearing that helmet, you'd be dead. And I'd feel a hell of a lot worse. But this isn't about me. This is about you. I…I came to ask your forgiveness."

Silence. The very preposterousness of the situation made Slade, Slade Wilson's face light in amusement. But then he saw the seriousness of Dick Grayson's face. "What would forgiveness do you for, boy?" he asked. "Would it make it easier for you to throw me into a jail cell? To foil my schemes? To punch and kick and beat me?"

Dick's hands trembled. This hurt…a lot. "No. But it would make me—me, the human being, not the superhero—feel better. It would make me feel more…well…human."

"I'm not here to make you feel good, Robin. If anything, I want to make you suffer. I could just say, 'No, I don't forgive you' and watch you torment yourself over shooting me—even though I survived it. Know this, Robin: I could have shot you a million times over and never bat an eyelash. Watching you squirm over nearly killing me will bring me unprecedented joy in the weeks to come."

Dick wanted to lash out. The anger and humiliation was boiling over inside him. He had come in full humility to beg forgiveness for a heinous act—and this bastard had the nerve to…to…Dick forced himself to calm down.

"Your words aren't unexpected, even if they're…painful to hear. But you know what, Slade? I read your chart."

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"Just that you have a last name. Like me. Like Batman and Batgirl. Like Superman and the Joker and Two-Face and a hundred other superbeings. That means we're human beings, of the same core. I'll admit that for a long time, I've thought of you as nothing more than another bad guy to defeat. But your name…that's more than reason enough for me to treat you with the respect due another man. And more than anything else, that's why I want your forgiveness. Because you're human and you're due the respect any human being deserves.

"We'll be enemies after this, don't doubt that. I…and the Titans…we'll be after you, just like always. One day, we're bringing you down. Or maybe you'll bring us down. Who knows? But I know that on that night, I saw the fear of death in your eyes. I saw you looking at the universe as a normal man—one afraid of dying. And I'm here now, begging you to forgive me for putting you through that hell. For now, let's just be normal people."

Dick Grayson extended his hand.

And Slade Wilson took it.

The End