Title: Teenagers Part Five/conclusion
Author: Simon
Characters: Dick, Bruce, some Donna
Rating: PG 13
Summary: They finally talk.
Warnings: none
Disclaimers: These guys aren't mine, they don't belong to me, worst luck, so don't bother me.
Archive: Fine, but if you want it, please ask first.
Feedback: Hell, yes.
Unbetaed. It's a holiday weekend; I didn't want to bother anyone so blame me for mistakes. And yes, I know Robin has been injured while crime fighting a zillion times. Just go with it, okay?
Teenagers…
Part Five
A month after the accident Dick was bored almost to tears.
No snowboarding.
No mopeding.
No real workouts.
No Titans.
No Robin.
However, he did have lots of homework.
He could watch movies.
He could read.
He could eat.
He could do almost anything while staying fairly stationary.
Bruce allowed him to do some crime fighting work, as well.
Lots of reviewing cases.
Lots of computer practice as he regained mobility in his arm.
Lots of anticipating Joker and Two Face's next moves.
And lots of silence from Bruce.
And even more from Batman.
He could and did spend a lot of time on the phone to his friends, but since he was without his own transportation, he'd feel like a complete moron having Alfred drive him to the Lair for meetings or a movie. He spent more time with the few kids at school he vaguely considered to be friends and even started having a semi-real social life with them. He was unable to hit the slopes for Burton, but he did agree to a couple of poster signing promos in Gotham and New York which annoyed Bruce and he was allowed to visit Peter one weekend, as well, after Bruce gave explicit instructions to his aunt about what was and what wasn't acceptable.
He was seriously bored and harassed Dr. Leslie to let him do more, but she was steadfast in her refusal, insisting that he risked restraining the clavicle and could suffer a permanent injury of he did the sort of things she knew he'd be doing. The really aggravating part was that he knew she was right.
And he and Bruce still hadn't exchanged more than about a dozen words, or so it seemed to Dick, since they were both home. Every morning at breakfast, Bruce would be finishing his coffee as Dick took his seat, would calmly and politely greet him, fold his newspaper and announce that he had to be getting to he office. He missed seventeen dinners in a row, citing social engagements and when that became so ridiculous even Alfred was rolling his eyes, he switched to saying he had to either work in the cave or deal with Justice League business. He would then stay out until he was sure that Dick had gone to bed to repeat the pattern again in the morning.
Much as Dick was maintaining his usual good humor for everyone, it was starting to privately seriously get him down and Alfred had caught him several times staring out the big living room window, lost in thought.
Finally he couldn't take it anymore. He called the Lair to see who was there and lucked out when Donna said—insisted—that she'd be right over. An hour later they were sitting in the conservatory by the indoor pool, feet in the water and watching the snow outside, drinking iced tea despite the season and talking.
"It's insane—he's insane. I mean he hasn't spoken to me in weeks, practically. I walk into the room and he finds an excuse to walk out. I sit down to eat dinner and, if he's even here he decides he's not hungry." He gave her a half smile. "His subtlety is slipping."
"But do you know why he's so angry with you? I mean, are you even sure this is what's really going on? Maybe it's something completely different from what you think it is."
"Donna, he's just always pissed at me and if he isn't, it's clear that I'm disappointing him somehow." He stopped after that outburst, embarrassed. "I'm sorry. I know I sound like a ten year old and someone took my candy, but he really has changed. It's not my imagination. You should have seen the look on his face on the hill when I told him I thought I'd broken my collarbone. You'd have thought that I'd punched him."
"Does Alfred have any ideas? Have you asked him?"
Dick shook his head. "I didn't want to bother him."
"Like he hasn't noticed." She put her hand on his good shoulder, "Well, then you have to talk to Bruce. You have to. When you see him, when he comes in just make him listen."
Dick nodded, looking at the water, that was what his cousin Peter had said, too. "You're right. I know you're right."
They sat together for a little while, watching the ripples their feet were making, then, looking at her watch, Donna had to go. Kissing Dick on the cheek, she gave him a careful hug. "Talk to him, okay? Promise me? And call me, let me know how it goes, all right?" Then she let herself out, leaving Dick to his thoughts.
He was sixteen years old and he'd been living with Bruce roughly half of his life. He'd be seventeen in a couple of months and that would tip the scale—he'd have lived with Bruce longer than he'd lived with his parents.
His parents had taught him about flying, responsibility, working together and so, in his own way, had Bruce.
But there were major differences beyond the obvious. His parents had instilled in him a sense of community with the other cast and crewmembers of the show. They'd let him know everyday how much they believed in him, loved him and counted on him. Bruce never let him forget how much depended on him, but it was always with corrections and criticisms, do things his way, higher, faster, smarter—trying to meet impossible standards.
His parents had made sure it was fun—God, Dick could still hear his Dad's laugh now. The least little thing would set it off and he'd get everyone in earshot joining in. And there wasn't a day that went by his mother didn't hug him or kiss him and tell him she loved him until he'd blush and squirm away because the other kids could see… "Mom…!"
When was the last time anyone did that? Okay, Donna, but it wasn't the same.
Suddenly Dick slipped his arm out of the sling, worked his shirt off and slid into the water, still wearing his jeans. Loving the feeling of weightlessness and allowing the water to support his still healing broken bone, he floated to the middle of the pool, arms and legs relaxed, looking up at the tall palm trees arcing overhead.
He wasn't sure how long he floated here, just drifting back and forth, watching the shadows and reflected shimmer from the pool lights up on the ceiling. He knew he'd been there a while, long enough that he could feel himself drifting off to sleep suspended there in the warm water.
"Dick."
"Um?" He didn't even bother to open his eyes.
"Dick." A little more forceful this time. He turned his head towards the sound. Bruce was standing by the edge of the pool and he looked concerned. "It's almost midnight. Are you all right?"
He lazily kicked his way to the shallow end where he could walk out on the steps instead of pulling himself up one handed on the ladder. He stood up, the water up to his waist, pouring down his back and chest, dripping from his hair. His arm held close to his body. "I'm fine." Slowly, carefully, he made his way up the tiled steps to where Bruce was waiting with a towel. Silently, he hung it around Dick's shoulders and handed him the sling to support his still sore injury.
"What were you doing?" In the pool, in your clothes at midnight. Bruce didn't say the last, but he didn't have to and he tried not to stare at the bruising from Dick's injuries and the subsequent surgery. Still there, fading by clearly visible. No wonder the boy was still in a sling.
"Thinking." Bruce looked at him oddly. Well, what the hell, no time like the present and God knew when Bruce would deign to actually be in the same room with him again. Time to seize the moment.
"I'm sorry you were so angry at the Highlands, I know I screwed up."
Bruce looked confused and almost blinked in a cliché reaction. "I don't understand."
"I screwed up. I made a mistake—I'm sorry I made you angry."
"Dick—I wasn't angry, I was worried. You were hurt and you were in pain, I was worried about you."
Yeah, right. "Well anyway, I'm sorry."
Bruce waved his hand in dismissal. "I was thinking that we should pin Leslie down on when you can start working out again, start getting you back in shape."
Dick just looked at him.
"You know, Batman and Robin—we work together?"
Bruce made a joke. Damn, Bruce made a joke. "But after—I mean I thought that…I thought that you didn't want to, you know…"
Bruce gave him a hard look, something he was good. "Sit down, what's been on your mind lately? Clear the air." And Leslie had told Bruce that if he didn't talk to the boy there would be hell to pay, something Alfred had seconded.
Dick sat on the stone bench then took a breath, eyes on the puddles of water around his feet. He took another breath and looked at Bruce, sitting on the end of one of the lounge chairs, five of six feet away. He tried to steel himself. Christ, he'd faced down and bested the worst criminals on the planet, he'd witnessed death and destruction almost beyond comprehension, he counted most of the Justice League as friends and he was stumbling over a few sentences. C'mon, he was the glib one, the one who always had something to say—spit it out.
"I think I don't always live up to your standards, okay? I think you're disappointed a lot of the time in me and…it makes me feel like crap to know I've let you down."
Of all the feelings Bruce had for Dick, disappointment had never figured into the mix—never, and if Dick had announced that he'd decided to turn to the dark side of the force, he couldn't have been any more surprised.
"…Uh, no."
His voice subdued, Dick went on. "C'mon, Bruce, I saw the look on you face at the hospital in Aspen and when I missed that pass on the Horn. You were really mad."
"I was upset that you were hurt, Dick—I wasn't angry. I was worried about you."
Dick breathed out a snort of disbelief. "Right, and so when you gave me that lecture about how all these people are counting on me, about how if I get hurt I mess up you and the Titans and probably daylight savings time, you were just worried about me? Sure you were."
"Good Lord, you must know how proud I am of you, I couldn't be more pleased with the work you've been doing and…"
"And that's why you haven't given me the time of day in a month. I'm not stupid, you know."
Bruce looked closely at Dick, angry, hurt and pretending the tears welling up were pool water that had dripped from his hair.
"When you were in the hospital the first time and I'd heard you'd been unconscious for over half an hour I was frightened. Dick—I didn't know how serious it was, if you had a spinal cord injury or brain damage. You could have been in a coma—I was scared." He paused for a second to gather his thoughts. "I may have seemed angry but that wasn't it, not at all. And then up on the mountain, you're right. I was mad then, I was furious at myself. I was kicking myself because I'd let you go out on a hill that size after you'd been hurt when I knew better. I was angry with myself for letting you be in a position like that. Hell's bells, Dick—I'm supposed to be the adult, your guardian and I'd made a mess of it because I couldn't bear to see you moping around the chalet bored. If anything, it was my fault, not yours."
Yeah, sure. Right. Dick didn't say anything, just mentally went to ground, thinking he was being hosed.
"How long have you felt like this, Dick?" It was asked quietly, just a question, not in any way a challenge.
"A while. I don't know, just—a while." He shifted on the hard bench, causing more water to drip to the floor, adding to the puddle that was already there. "Nothing I do is ever good enough, even when I got that gig with Burton you were pissed because I might be recognized or it might take too much time. You think I don't know that the only reason you gave in on that was because Alfred leaned on you? I heard you two talking in the study. You're still not happy about that."
"Now, Dick, you know my reasons for that and you know they're valid."
Dick went on as is Bruce hadn't sad a word. "And my grades; hell, I've never been off the honor roll but you see an A- and you want to know what happened. I lead the Titans and you complain because it's taking too much time. No matter what I do, it doesn't cut it."
"You have to know how proud I am of you, you have to. Your grades are terrific and you know as well as I do—as well as the entire Justice League knows, that you're the only possible person who could lead the Titans."
Dick didn't say anything.
"And the way you balance everything amazes me—when I was your age it was all I could do to keep my grades up and train at the same time. I didn't have the complications of the social life I have to ask of you or a group of peers looking up to me for instructions in life threatening situations. And I didn't have to keep secrets from people; I wasn't Batman yet. You're doing all of this while leading a double life ad you still keep everything in perspective. I couldn't have done everything you're doing when I was sixteen or seventeen."
Dick sat up a little straighter and looked at Bruce. "Yeah?"
"Yes."
"You were afraid—is that the truth or are you bullshitting me?"
"Alfred saw me, you can ask him. If I don't say anything it's because I've gotten so used to you being the most competent person I know. I guess I sort of take it for granted." He stopped and took a breath. "God, all right, I know I do." He glanced over at Dick, staring at him in some disbelief. "I'll try to work on that."
"Yeah?'
"Yes."
"Can I call you on it if you screw it up?" Dick had a half smile on his face. This could be good.
"…Within reason. And only in private—none of this in front of the Justice League or anything like that. No interviews to make announcements."
"So…you think I'm okay as Robin?"
"You're amazing as Robin."
"And my grades and the Titans and boarding for Burton—you're okay with all of that?"
"I'm more than fine with it all—so long as you can handle it."
"But you're all right with my being in what you consider danger? You're not going to pull anything stupid, are you?"
Bruce gave Dick a steady look, close to a Bat look while still maintaining being Bruce. "I know you're intelligent. I know that you're well trained and take what we do seriously. I know that you're mature and level-headed and that I can count on you to make good choices and decisions."
"But…?"
"But you have to understand that if you're ever seriously hurt crime fighting, I'll pull Robin out from under you."
"…What? Why?" Dick looked stunned, like this was the last thing in the world he ever thought he'd hear.
"Because I can take your hating me, but I couldn't stand to lose you."
"Bruce…"
"Believe me on this."
7/6/05
8