A/N A outrageously large thank you to everyone who took the time to review. There's nothing quite like getting that "Review Alert" in your inbox.
And as an interesting bit of trivia, according to my stats page, this story has had over one thousand hits!
Disclaimer: Due to circumstances beyond our control, today's disclaimer has been canceled.
Bat-Chapter 4: Bats and Birds
Bruce glanced worriedly at the dark sky as another rumble of thunder rolled across the air. He lifted the walkie-talkie to his mouth. "Any luck, Alfred?"
"No, Master Wayne. Should I start back and alert the rest of the staff?"
"Yes." Bruce's mouth tightened grimly. He hadn't wanted to send out the entire household for fear of scaring Dick even more than he already was. But after an hour of searching and the storm blowing in fast, there was no other choice.
There was almost no chance the boy would actually leave the grounds. A high wall topped with electrically charged wire ran around the perimeter of the property, but the grounds of Wayne Manor consisted of acres full of gazebos, groves, and all manner of hiding places. Bruce's guess, however, had been that Dick would run into the wall, and then follow it around, trying to find a way out. He and Alfred had gone in opposite directions, searching along the perimeter, but Alfred had finished his half without success and Bruce was nearly done with his.
A dark mass loomed in front of him, and Bruce shined his Maglight over the Cat in puzzlement, before remembering that construction had begun a week ago. Alfred had suggested that fishing would provide a convenient excuse for long hours of solitude, and Bruce had promptly ordered the construction of a reservoir on the eastern corner of his property.
He made his way warily among the huge machines, the flickering moonlight through the ragged clouds more confusing than darkness. "Dick!" he bellowed over the rising wind. "Dick!"
A high cry was almost lost in the booming thunder. Bruce froze. Was it only a trick of the wind? Then the sound came again, thin and desperate. "Heeeelp!"
"Dick!" shouted Bruce, sprinting forward. He automatically took in the line of yellow construction tape, the markers that had been knocked down by the wind…and then he skidded to a stop, just before plunging over a crumbling precipice. Leaping back, he dropped to his stomach and peered over the edge. His Maglight lit the white face just before a flash of lightning illuminated his ward, clinging impossibly to the face of the dirt ten feet below the edge. "Hang on! I'm coming!"
He saw the boy's face turn toward him before he jumped up and ran back to the machines. He pulled the walkie-talkie out of his pocket. "Alfred, I've found him. Bring a car out to the lake." He didn't hear the reply, because he was already scrambling into the cab of a forklift. "Rope, cable, anything…" There was nothing useful and he jumped back out in disgust. "Where's Batman when I need him!"
Another crack of lightning illuminated a pickup, half hidden behind a bulldozer. Bruce ran over and pulled the tarp off the back. There it was – a coil of thick nylon rope. Fervently blessing the truck owner he ran back toward the unfinished lakebed, looped a strong knot around the wheel of the nearest Cat, and ran backwards over the edge.
The dirt cascaded away beneath his feet as he skidded down the side of the hole, ripping his jeans and burning his hands. And then he jerked to a stop – the end of the rope in his hands and five feet between himself and the boy. Excellent planning, Bruce. Now what? Twenty feet to a ground littered with dangerous construction litter. Five feet down and across crumbling soil to reach the boy. Even as he watched, one of Dick's handholds gave way and the boy slipped another few inches down before he could stop himself.
We can't wait for Alfred. Especially if it starts to rain. Reinforcing his fear, the lightning and thunder made themselves known, flash and crack almost inseparable.
Wrapping the end of the rope securely around his right hand, he slowly extended his arms until he dangled full length at the end of the rope. Scrabbling with his free hand and both feet, he inched his way to the left until he was stretched at angle across the face of the precipice. But it wasn't enough. A full foot and a half still remained between his knees and Dick's head.
And then, before Bruce could realize what he was doing, Dick gathered himself and leaped. Launching up and over the treacherous surface he collided with Bruce's legs, knocking his tentative footholds loose so that the rope swung back to the vertical.
Bruce spat out his mouthful of dirt and peered down, terrified of what he might see. And found his ward clinging for dear life to his ankles. Nearly laughing with relief, Bruce reached a hand down and a moment later Dick was clinging to Bruce's chest like he was Velcro-ed on.
"You ok?" Bruce asked anxiously. Dick moved his head in what Bruce hoped was a nod. "Ok, then. We're getting out of here." Gritting his teeth against the pain in his hands, he hauled straight up until he could brace his feet against the side. And then it began to rain.
"You gotta love my luck," Bruce muttered as the dirt beneath them melted into mud and the slick rope skidded through his hands. No wonder Batman uses a self-propelling grappling gun. And then, Blast Fox's technology. I've gotten soft.
Several slippery minutes later, a filthy Bruce and his equally muddy ward clawed their way over the edge of the hole. Bruce lay still for a moment, relishing the solidity of the ground. "I defy Batman himself to have done better." He turned his head and saw Dick curled into a shaking ball.
Bruce pushed himself up. "Alfred's coming with a car. Why don't we go meet him?" He scooped the shivering boy into his arms, and the kid wrapped his arms around Bruce's neck in a hold worthy of a hangman's noose. They walked for less than a minute before headlights glared through the rain, and Alfred brought the Land Rover to a stop in front of them.
Bruce yanked open the passenger's door and crawled in, still holding Dick. He pushed the hair out of his eyes with a muddy hand and grinned at his butler. "So much for the upholstery."
Alfred threw the car into gear and began the drive back to the mansion. "Is he injured?" he asked anxiously.
"I don't think so," Bruce replied.
Dick had stopped shivering and a moment later he said timidly, "Hey, Alfred."
"Good evening, Master Dick. You gave us quite a scare."
"I'm sorry," Dick whispered.
"Yes, well, seeing as Master Wayne has already turned all of my hair white, I don't know that you have too much to blame yourself for."
Back in the comforting stateliness of Wayne manor, Bruce gently pried Dick's hands from around his neck. "I'll be right back, I promise. But I think we could both use a shower." Dick seemed satisfied and allowed Alfred to lead him away to the tender mercies of hot water.
True to his word, a clean Bruce was waiting in Dick's room when the boy emerged, pink and steaming, from the bathroom. "Feel better?" Bruce asked nervously.
But Dick smiled (Smiled!), shyly. "Yeah."
Alfred, as ever knowing just when he was wanted, appeared laden with a silver tray and two mugs of cocoa. Setting the tray on the desk, he picked up the muddy red backpack. "Master Dick, shall I launder this as well?"
"Sure," Dick said into his cocoa, and Alfred gingerly unzipped the bag and placed the contents on the desk.
"What's this?" Bruce asked curiously, shaking out the ragged bundle that topped the heap.
Dick's ears turned red. "It's just a…I mean, um…my mom made it."
It was a baby blanket, tattered and stained and obviously much loved. Bruce was about to drop the subject and let his ward retain his dignity, when the stitching around the edge of the quilt caught his eye. Lifting it, he saw that the figure of a tiny brown bird with a red breast had been embroidered in various acrobatic positions all around the border. "Wow, your mom did all this?"
"Yeah." Dick seemed to have lost his embarrassment and stepped closer. With one finger he reached out and gently stroked the little birds. "Because she was Robyn. She made it when I was little." He hunched his thin shoulders and turned to the desk.
Bruce watched in silence as the boy picked up the Bat-viewer and slowly turned it over in his fingers. "Bruce?" Dick asked.
"Yeah?"
"Do you think, if Batman had known my mom was in danger, that he would've saved her?"
Bruce flinched, then carefully laid the blanket over the back of the chair. He moved so that he was facing Dick and knelt down to eye level. "Yeah, if he'd known, I definitely think he would have. But…there were so many people in trouble that night, and Batman, he…he had to stop the bad guys before they hurt anyone else." Bruce heard the pleading in his own voice, and realized with shock how important it was that this scrawny, eight-year-old kid understood. And then he opened his mouth and denied all that he had tried to create since Batman first soared over Gotham. "Batman…he does his best, but he's just one man."
"Maybe he needs someone to help him," Dick whispered.
"Yeah, maybe."
The boy was staring down at the box again, and tears began to slip down his cheeks. Bruce watched helplessly as the slight form began to tremble. "I used it and I looked through the walls…I thought I could help us escape, but they caught me…" Dick's frame shook with his hoarse, rapid breathing. "I couldn't find her. She was just taking out the trash…I couldn't find her…"
Bruce's breath stopped as the guilt which had haunted him from childhood to the mountains of Tibet wrenched the words from Dick's mouth. So many years under the shadow…Alfred told me…I wouldn't listen…Not this boy…It will be different. It HAS to be.
"It's not your fault," Bruce said fiercely, gripping the thin shoulders. "The people who did this – it's their guilt, not yours. Never yours." With a cry Dick buried his face against Bruce's chest. Bruce felt the tears soaking through his t-shirt and wished desperately for Rachel's advice. Or Alfred's. But Alfred had disappeared and Rachel was a thousand miles away. So he sat down and held on until the frightening violence of the sobs eased and the small form grew still. It was some time before Bruce realized that the boy had cried himself to sleep.
Has Bruce at last broken through his ward's wall of silence? Are things looking up for the future of the Dynamic Duo?
Don't miss the gripping conclusion – same bat-time, same bat-channel.
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Notes to Reviewers (in alphaBATical order)
Ambertwilight: Glad you're enjoying it! I know there hasn't been much "Batman" and I should probably warn you that there isn't going to be. This is a very short fic (two chapters to go) concentrating on the "Bruce" side of Batman.
Antigone3: I'm guessing the fact that you quoted it meant that you liked it? It just struck me as funny that Bruce was so set against polo in BB, so I couldn't help exploiting it a little.
Gewher: Here's hoping you didn't really die from suspense! I need all the reviewers I can get.
IcyWaters: Thanks for another tremendous review! I'm relieved the cereal thing wasn't too silly, and I totally agree that Alfred is the only who can get away with stuff like that. Probably the "Listen to me young man, I used to change your nappies," intimidation factor.
Josette: Why do you suppose it is that we love to read about the traumatized? As long, of course, as there's a certain amount of relief thrown in. I admit I'm a happy ending girl!
L Moonshade: Well, that's what happens. Yes, Dick has been through a lot, this chapter included. What's great about being a writer is that you can take kids in these awful situations and rescue them…(all without taking a single paramedics class!)
Moonjava: I'm glad you like my presentation of Bruce. I'm finding him increasingly difficult to write. I want to exploit his psychological tensions, but it would be disastrous to overdo the emotional bit. That's why I need reviewers to keep me balanced.
Starpossum: I don't know whether Robin is in Batman Begins. My hypothesis is that a little boy who appears in the middle and at the end will turn out to be Dick Grayson (hence, this story). Yeah, I want to hug Dick too. But I can't, so I had Bruce do it instead.
TheAmazingTecnoColorRingWraith: You got ripped off. Sorry, man, you just can't trust those evil dark lords.
Torie: Thanks for the review! I agree with you about the kid in the movie needing to be important, for artistic reasons if nothing else.
TV Chick: Good to see you. Not such a cliffhanger this time. (Although there was plenty of cliff-hanging in it! Hee hee)
Shotboxer: I love Alfred, too. I might even go so far as to say he's my favorite. I think this chapter answered your question!