Author's Notes: See part one for full disclaimer and whatnot. Part Two picks up directly from where Part One left off. Also, there are a lot of conversations in this part that work to tied up lose ends because, well, some times you've just gotta get things off your chest. ;-) What this means, though, is there will be a lot of round-about stuff going on to while the characters sort things out. The "action" aspect of this tale is over, but now's time for the "angst" and "healing" portion. Hope y'all enjoy it as it comes.

Enjoy!

Masquerade

Chapter Nine

Part Two: What Remains

"In the clearing stands a boxer

And a fighter by his trade.

And he carries the reminders

Of ev'ry glove that layed him down,

Or cut him till he cried out

In his anger and his shame:

'I am leaving, I am leaving,'

But the fighter still remains.

Yes, it still remains."

-Simon and Garfunkle

Jack Drake ran into the Manor not even caring that he left Dana in the car. He had to see his son. He had to see that Timothy was okay. Racing to the clock, he opened the door to the Cave not even pausing to think how odd it was that he was running down into the Batman's home. Jack took the stairs two at a time, finally pausing at the bottom to look frantically around. Last time he was here, he'd barely moved past the stairs and now he was struck with how vast this hidden Cave truly was. As Jack made the decision to take off to the right, Alfred appeared.

"Mister Drake," he greeted.

"Where's Tim?" Jack asked moving closer to the butler.

Alfred, if he was truly honest with himself, had never cared much for Jack Drake feeling the man thought too often with his head instead of his heart, especially in regards to his son. The Englishman knew that, much like Bruce with any of his 'children', Jack only looked to protect Timothy. Sometimes that protection came in the form of being an over-bearing guardian, something that Alfred knew Tim loathed. Yet, Alfred pushed those thoughts aside for none of that mattered now. Jack was Tim's father and his son was here.

The butler extended a hand in the general direction of the sickbay. "Your son is in the back with Master Bruce and Master Richard."

Jack took only a single step before Alfred's voice grabbed his attention once more.

"You must know something first." The butler waited till he had Jack's undivided attention. This was the moment he'd dreaded since knowing Mister Drake was on his way over. Alfred knew the news would not be taken well. "Master Timothy has sustained some grievous wounds."

Jack felt his heart skip a beat. "What happened?" He asked, fearing the answer.

"There has been serious damage done to his leg with, what we believe, was a hammer." A part of Alfred was amazed that he was able to state that fact about the young man so easily when it was so terrible. He continued, "Timothy also received a gun shot wound to his abdomen. The bullet has been removed and Timothy is stable, but the young sir is still unconscious and not completely out of danger."

Jack felt himself go numb as he listened to Alfred's words. Certain words broke though the man's clouded mind: A hammer. Gun shot wound. Danger. It was as if Jack's world had collapsed in on him again. When the call came that his son was in Bruce's company and care, he assumed everything was fine. How foolish could he have been?

Jack looked at the butler, "Take me to him."

Alfred nodded and led the man back to his son.

The first thought that came to Jack's mind when he entered the sick bay was how pale Tim looked. The teenager was almost as white as the sheets he laid upon. Jack didn't even register that both Bruce and Dick were seated nearby watching their young charge. The older man moved to his son's side and grabbed Tim's hands between his own.

"Timothy?" He asked softly as he stroked the young man's hand. "I'm here for you, son."

Dick watched the scene and couldn't help but feel pity for Tim's father. The man had to be overcome with guilt. Well, Dick at least hoped the man was feeling guilty, as cruel as that thought was. For his own part, from the moment he had seen Tim's prone body on the ground and the blood seeping out of the boy, Dick felt guilt gnawing at him. I should have pressed Gardenee more, was all he could think and, deep inside, he knew that was a minor aspect within the larger part that Jack Drake had been.

Bruce, too, looked over at the father and son. The anger he'd felt towards Jack had not dissipated any; in fact, it had grown stronger as he worked on Tim's life threatening wounds. Jack had kept his problems with gambling a secret even as it grew to epic proportions. In the end, because of Jack's idiocy and stubborn pride, Tim was kidnapped, beaten, and shot.

Standing from his seat, Bruce approached the bed. Jack looked up and was taken aback to see Batman standing before him sans cowl. It was almost a more terrifying image than Batman in his whole costume. Here it as if two worlds violently collided; there was Batman with Bruce Wayne's face. It suddenly made Jack painfully aware of the fact that these vigilantes were somehow normal people by day and that his son had been like them.

Shaking his head, Jack cleared his thoughts. "How is he?"

"Still in critical condition. The gunshot wound caused Tim to lose a lot of blood that could leave some permanent damage. His leg was shattered and we haven't dealt with it yet because we didn't want to inflict any more trauma on his body." The man paused for a moment, thinking over his next statement and whether or not he should speak it. Finally, Bruce decided Tim's father not only had a right to now, but also needed to know. "There is a chance that Timothy could not wake up due to the blood loss. Also, because of the location of the gunshot, infection is a grave possibility. His leg may never heal properly either and become lame."

Jack listened to the words come out of Bruce's mouth in a callous tone and felt his temper rise. This man was speaking as if Tim was just some body that he'd found on the street. After Tim's secret identity had been discovered the young man talked endlessly to his father about how Bruce was really a good and caring man. His almost like a father to me, his son had exclaimed during one of their more hurtful conversations. Right now, though, Jack saw neither of these traits and certainly not a father-like persona. Bruce was suppose to love his son and care for him. Bruce was suppose to be the father Jack hadn't been.

Bruce was suppose to protect Timothy, even from Jack himself.

"How can you talk about him like that?" The older man questioned angrily. "Like he's just a sack of meat."

Bruce felt his temper spike dangerously and opened his mouth to speak, but he felt a hand on his shoulder and turned to look into the blue eyes of Dick. The younger man shook his head and squeezed Bruce's shoulders. The message was passed without a single word.

Stay in control.

Bruce took a calming breath and, though he kept his voice level, he still narrowed his eyes. "I was telling you where things stood."

"You were talking about Tim like he's a stranger! You don't even know my son! How dare you-"

Bruce cut in. "No, Jack, how dare you!" The pressure from Dick's hand intensified, but Bruce hardly noticed. "You pretend to know your son, pretend to know what's best for him, and come here thinking that I'm the one who doesn't know Tim." The man stepped forward, closer to Jack. "You haven't been in your son's life for the past sixteen years and now try to act like you're the perfect father." Bruce shook his head. "You know nothing," he finally spat. To lose control like that was not in his nature, but things in regard to Jack Drake and Tim had been on thin ice lately and, finally it appeared, as if Bruce had been pushed too far. Knowing he shouldn't engaged in a verbal war, Bruce turned and began to walk away.

"No!" Jack cried and jumped in front of Bruce's retreating form. "You think you're so much better than me; such a better father to Tim. You aren't, you know that." Jack pointed a finger at Bruce and the younger man was suddenly reminded of an event that took place two months ago with a furious Jack Drake and a gun. This time, however, Bruce felt his own temper rising. Jack continued his tirade, "I've read what my son wrote about you. I know how you gave away his secret. I know about the betrayal. You know, Timothy worshipped you and all you ever did was show disappointment in him. You hurt him constantly."

Bruce felt the hand of Dick fall from his shoulder and without that lifeline he plunged into the war. "What about you, Jack? Do you think you're the perfect father? Tim became Robin because you weren't there for him. He wanted nothing from you and you gave him just that. You believed your own son was a delinquent to the point of sending him away and searching his room. All you ever did was believe your son was on the wrong side of everything. It never occurred to you that Tim was a bright, talent young man who only sought your love and attention."

Jack stood still for a moment, seeming to absorb Bruce's words. Then the older man shook his head as if physically denying all that had been said. "I dealt with Tim like any father would have. He was falling apart in front of my eyes." He paused and reiterated, "I did what any caring father would have done."

"No, Jack, you did what a father who didn't trust his son does. You were never there for him and then, when you wanted to be, he didn't want you. But you couldn't accept that. You couldn't understand why, suddenly, Tim didn't want to be your son." Bruce leaned over and stood inches from Jack's face. "It's because you were never really a father to him and Tim couldn't change that image in his mind. He rejected you because you had rejected him first."

The older man's mouth dropped open and found himself speechless. Bruce's words cut through every insecurity and worry he'd ever possessed in regards to his son. It was as if the younger man was reading the deepest and darkest thoughts of Jack's mind.

"Jack?" A voice from behind everyone spoke out uncertainly. All men looked and saw Dana standing with her hands clasped tightly in front of her. Tears shone in her eyes as she looked at Tim lying in the bed. "How is he?" She asked, fearfully.

Jack looked at his son and then back at Dana. "He was shot," he answered softly.

Dana took a quick intake of air and moved to Tim's side in much the same manner Jack had done before. She grabbed his hand and laid her forehand to the pale appendage softly crying. Bruce and Jack watched her in silence and both felt shame rise in them at their words said early. Jack turned around and faced Bruce once more.

"I'm going to go sit with my wife and my son now." He whispered and moved away before Bruce could say anything. Bruce watched the older man go knowing that their conversation had not ended there. Dick moved back beside Bruce and put a hand back on his father's shoulder.

Bruce sighed almost inaudibly.

"I know," Dick said and gently shook his head. "I know."

TBC…