Bruce Wayne/Batman, Dick Grayson/Nightwing, Selina Kyle, Barbara Gordon, the Scarecrow, and all other important characters belong to DC Comics/Time Warner.
I am using them without permission, however I have not and don't expect to make money from this.

Rated PG : mild language; violence, some mature concepts.

Reviews are greatly appreciated.

Chiroptophobia

Rebound

- - -

Bruce stared into the black surface of his second cup of coffee, trying to concentrate on the smell rising from it, letting it cut through the haze of sleep that still seemed to be fogging his mind. He took a sip and put it down, yawned, and stretched in a vain attempt to get his body to wake up.

"Sir, are you quite sure you're all right?"

He glanced up at Alfred, who was standing over him by the small kitchen table, obviously trying not to look worried and not succeeding. "Yeah, I'm sure. Just a late night."

"From what I heard on the news, the Scarecrow's fear drugs are nothing to take lightly."

"And I'm not. That guard he gassed was released from the hospital yesterday. I'm fine too, just a little tired still." He summoned a smile for his butler. He'd be back to normal soon enough, after he caught up on his sleep. If he could have a night uninterrupted by dreams, undoubtedly caused by that nightmare illusion. He frowned at the memory of darkness broken by the still darker shapes of flying creatures and the echoes of their sharp, shrill cries, echoing in the depths of an alleyway that hid something he didn't want to see. The same dream, two nights in a row.

"I hope so. You will need your wits about you today." Alfred's face had returned to its usual neutrality, but there was a definite hint of disapproval in his voice.

"Selina won't bite."

The butler reached down to remove his half-finished coffee and took it to the sink. "I am not entirely sure about that. Ms. Kyle has proved herself to be quite a bit more dangerous than she appears."

"She's reformed now, remember? I'm sure she's sincere, too." Bruce sighed. "It won't be easy for her, getting back on her feet after almost three years in jail. After all that's gone on between us, the least I can do is make sure she's all right."

"She can bloody well take care of herself, that one," Alfred muttered under his breath as he rinsed out the cup.

"Excuse me?"

"I have no doubt Ms. Kyle will always land on her feet. Like a cat."

"Even cats can use a helping hand. Selina hasn't had a particularly easy life. She grew up poor. Married a man who turned out to be abusive."

"Many others have faced similar difficulties and remained law-abiding citizens."

"True." Bruce shrugged. "What can I say? Selina gave herself up, did her time, paid her debt to society. She seems to want to turn her life around. Is it so bad to help her do it?"

Alfred had finished at the sink, and his expression softened as he turned to look at Bruce again. "No, sir. A large part of combating crime is helping former criminals to stay on the right side of the law, or it should be. I just would not wish you to - find yourself regretting this."

"I'd regret it a lot more if I didn't make the effort." Bruce got up, looking at his watch. "I'd better get going if I want to meet her when she comes out. Don't know why they have to do this first thing in the morning."

"It's almost noon, sir."

Bruce smiled in genuine humor. "Like I said, first thing in the morning."

- - -

Not much to look at. That was Dick's first impression of Blüdhaven as he drove down what seemed to be one of the main streets, stopping at a light to stare up from his motorcycle at dingy apartments and depressed-looking office buildings. It reminded him of some of the poorer sections of Gotham City. And that reminded him of just how close he was to Gotham.

All he had to do was turn around, get back on the highway, and he could be in the city in a couple of hours. He could go by the mansion, see Bruce and Alfred... see if Barbara was around... go home...

No. Not home. Dick frowned at the street before him. Gotham hadn't been his home for two years. Bruce was no longer his friend, Barbara no longer his girl. All of that was gone. No point in giving in to the feelings of bitter nostalgia that would overwhelm him if he gave them half a chance. It was just that he'd been on the move for so long, with no long-term friends. It was just that no one liked facing the fact that he had no home.

Speaking of which... he pulled over at the first motel he spotted with a vacancy sign, and minutes later, after finding the cost was low enough for him to afford, was signing the usual forms.

"How long you staying for?" The clerk, a bored-looking teenaged boy, was holding a magazine whose cover featured a glossy picture of a pouting woman. Maybe she was upset because someone seemed to have stolen almost all her clothing.

"Don't know yet. A few days, maybe a week or two."

"Costs less if you pay by the week."

"Okay. I should be here that long, at least." He pulled out his wallet.

"Where you from?"

Dick shrugged. "A few places. California, Colorado, Texas, Georgia, North Carolina. Take your pick."

"Like to travel, huh?"

"I guess." But even as he said it, he knew it wasn't true. He didn't particularly like moving on every few weeks or months, but he had simply never felt comfortable in any of those places. Everywhere, the restlessness would creep in on him, the urge to go - somewhere else. Someplace where he could find a purpose again. Lately he had come to suspect that there was only one place where he would find it, the one place to which he had sworn he would never return.

"Enjoy your stay. Lemme know if you need anything." The kid was already engrossed in his magazine again, his customer almost forgotten.

"Thanks." Dick started back out, to find his room and retrieve his backpack and suitcase.

- - -

Bruce examined Selina's face, trying not to let her see him staring. She seemed distracted by looking around the small restaurant where he had brought her for lunch, which made it easier. Still, her eyes moved back to meet his, and she smiled faintly. Those green eyes he remembered so vividly were still bright, her hair still a gleaming black, her skin still fair and smooth. He had to admit she was still beautiful, but in a more subtle way now, no makeup and plain clothes that were a little too loose on her - she had lost some weight - but there was still that sense of inner fire that had attracted him to her in the first place. That still attracted him, he realized.

He had been mildly surprised when she had agreed to this meal with him, after the prison had released her. Or maybe he shouldn't be; she must be disoriented on her first day out after close to three years. Her former way of life was over, or at least he hoped so. Her former friends were gone; he hoped that was true too, considering they had all been criminals. She had nothing to go back to.

"So... what are your plans?" he asked.

She shrugged. "Start over, I guess. Find a place to live. Look for a job."

He was tempted to offer to let her stay at his house, but knew that wouldn't be a good idea for either of them. "I can help you find a place to stay, at least temporarily."

"No need." Her eyes were on him again, with a hint of curiosity. "There are plenty of hotels."

"But you don't have a lot of money, do you?"

He was afraid the blunt question would offend her, but she smiled. "Actually, I do. And not the ill-gotten gains from my robberies, don't worry. While I was in jail, my lawyers worked out a settlement with my ex-husband. He's a very wealthy man, as you know."

"Really? You didn't tell me you were still involved in legal action against him." They had spoken a few times at the jail after she had consented to see him. She had told him a few things about her past over the course of several tense and uncomfortable visits, but not this.

"I don't have to tell you everything."

"Selina, you don't have to tell me anything at all. But I'm glad to hear you're getting something out of Mitch, after all this time." Bruce had met her ex-husband socially a few times and had never liked him, a feeling that was only amplified by his new knowledge of Selina's relationship to him and the way she had been treated.

"Well, I was hardly in a position to go after him legally when I was the Catwoman," she murmured. "And I'm lucky that he never knew that he was my first robbery victim." With a smile at Bruce's startled expression, she added, "If he had known, I might not have gotten such a generous settlement. I hope you're not going to give me away, out of your vast sense of truth and justice?"

"No. No, I guess justice has been served well enough." He was quiet for a moment, watching her finish her lunch. "Well... If there's anything I can do to help, let me know."

"Nothing I can think of."

"I'm sorry about - you know, what happened between us."

"So you've told me." Her green eyes fixed on him; her lips twisted in a half-smile. "I blame Batman for it more than you. And be sure to tell him that, when you see him." She stood and picked up her purse. "Thanks for lunch, Bruce. I'll take a cab from here. See you around."

He watched her walk away. The view would normally be a pleasant one, but today it gave him nothing but pain as he wondered whether they would meet again, and wondered also exactly why that seemed to be what he wanted.

- - -

He squatted on the corner of a rooftop, carved stone hard and cold beneath his booted feet, a thin breeze lifting his hair and blowing it into his eyes. Impatiently Nightwing brushed it back, absently noting that he needed a haircut, but the main part of his attention never wavering from the small drama developing below.

They must have come from the movie theatre down the block, and taken a shortcut through the alley below. Not very smart, considering the reputation downtown Blüdhaven had, especially at night. As he watched, the young couple slowed, their body language becoming nervous. They had probably realized their mistake - but instead of turning back, they moved closer together and reached out to the young child trailing behind them, each taking a hand.

Nightwing's eyes moved back to the shadowy corner almost directly beneath him where he had seen the tiny flare of a cigarette only minutes before. He tensed as the family passed it, and moved slightly, balancing on the balls of his feet, as a form emerged, the harsh light of a street lamp glinting from the metal of a gun barrel.

"Don't move or I'll blow your heads off!" Even as the voice drifted up from the street, Nightwing slid off the roof and down the rope already fastened and waiting for him. His feet made a slight thump as he landed behind the mugger. As intended, the man heard it and whirled, eyes wide with sudden panic, gun waving.

He was hardly even a challenge despite the weapon, the kind of punk Nightwing knew he could almost take in his sleep. Still, he felt his heart pound as he ducked under the line of fire, chopped a backhanded blow to the thief's wrist, and rose into a roundhouse kick that sent the gun flying. That was good, it was fear that kept you cautious, that kept you alive. He jabbed another kick into the man's stomach, and a punch to his jaw as he doubled over. Then it only took a few seconds to pin the mugger flat on his face, twist his arms behind his back, and handcuff him.

Nightwing straightened to find the couple and child huddled and staring. They seemed almost as much afraid of him as of their attacker, as they flinched back when he took a step towards them. He stopped and frowned, wondering why he was so surprised to see that the child was a little girl.

"It's okay, you're safe now," he said. "Call the cops, will you?" Turning away from their fearful eyes, he took a few steps, reached for his rope, and began to climb.

"Thank you..." he heard behind him. At least they hadn't called him Batman.

And that was when he realized what had seemed so familiar about the whole incident. A young couple, a child, a mugging, a gun. When it had happened to Bruce and his parents, the outcome had been very different. That was what Batman was all about, preventing exactly the kind of tragedy that had almost happened again tonight. That, and revenge. As it was what Nightwing was all about.

The second time I've been reminded of Bruce in the last few days... No more than a coincidence? Or maybe only what he should expect, when he had chosen to come here, so close to Gotham. And why had he come here, exactly? Did I think Bruce would show up to welcome me with open arms, and beg me to forgive him? Did I think I'd run into Barbara somehow and everything would be different this time? Dick smiled as he stripped off the Nightwing mask in a deserted alley, his night's work done. No, that definitely wasn't Bruce's style, or Barbara's.

Forgiveness... The thought nagged at him as Dick finished changing. Tonight he had used the training Bruce - Batman - had given him. He still used weapons Bruce had provided. Was still living, in part, on money he had saved while working for Wayne Enterprises and earning a more-than-generous salary. Not to mention all the times he had visited Bruce's house, eaten his food; all the conversations, the advice, the bond between them that came from a shared loss and shared purpose. There was no escaping the fact that he owed Bruce a huge debt, certainly owed him loyalty, and perhaps owed him friendship as well. Had it been wrong to leave like that?

He didn't exactly give me much choice. No, the only other choice had been to give up being Nightwing. And that was no choice at all. He felt the familiar anger at the memory of that night, the angry and accusing words, Bruce's fist... He wouldn't listen. Even said that Kathy's death was my fault. What else could I have done but leave? There was nothing to stay for, not after that, and after Barbara dumped me.

But you could have understood that he just lost someone he loved. That he wasn't thinking clearly. That he needed his friends. And you could have tried telling Barbara the truth, instead of expecting her to ignore all the lies. It was his own thought, but it brought a frown to Dick's face. Then he shrugged.

It had all been over for two years. Barbara... it would never work, not as long as he had to deceive her in order to protect his identity. As for Bruce, he had apparently gotten along perfectly well without him, certainly didn't want to renew their partnership or probably even want to see him again. And if not - after tonight Batman would be certain to know Nightwing was operating practically right next door. If he had anything to say, let him come and say it.

- - -

"Going out, sir?"

Bruce barely stopped himself from jumping as the sound of Alfred's voice startled him. He turned away from the Batman costume he had been staring at and glanced at his butler. Alfred's face was wearing its blankest professional British butler expression, and yet - there was something there that warned him something was up.

"I suppose so. The Scarecrow's still out there, and I want to find out what he's after this time." He reached for the costume again, and again hesitated, unsure of why he felt so reluctant to touch it.

"I heard an interesting item on the news just now."

"Really? What?"

"Perhaps you wouldn't want to hear about it."

"Perhaps not." Bruce waited, hiding a smile.

"Still, it seems relevant to your - er - nocturnal activities, sir."

"Well, then, you'd better tell me, hadn't you?"

"I don't like to bring up what may be an unpleasant topic..."

"If you didn't want to tell me, you wouldn't have mentioned it, would you?" Bruce asked mildly. His eyes narrowed as he saw Alfred begin to look genuinely uncomfortable. "Stop playing games and spill it if it's important. I'm sure I can take it. Besides," he turned back to the costume, "I'm bound to hear about it anyway if it's on the news."

"Yes, sir. It's about Mr. Grayson, sir. Or rather, Nightwing."

Bruce was glad he had his back to his old friend and butler, since he knew his face would be reflecting the effect that name had on him. It would be showing surprise, guilt, concern... If Alfred thought it was important enough to tell him personally - was it the news he always, in the back of his mind, feared hearing about his former partner? "What about him?" he asked sharply. "Is he all right?"

Apparently that response won Alfred's approval, because his voice was considerably warmer as he said, "He seems better than all right. He stopped a mugging earlier tonight. Very expertly, it seems."

"Oh. Well, that's nice. But hardly the first time we've heard something like that."

"This happened in Blüdhaven, sir."

Bruce stopped in the middle of another reach for his costume. "Blüdhaven?" So close. Only a couple of hours' drive. He could go there now, tonight, go looking, apologize for his behavior, try to make things right... He turned, and saw Alfred watching. Was that what he expected, for Bruce to go flying off to find Dick, to patch up their differences, and be friends again? If so, he'd be disappointed. Like most things in life, it wasn't quite that easy, not when Dick had every reason to never want their paths to cross again.

He faced away, staring at the costume. "Thanks for telling me, Alfred."

"Do you think there's any chance you might - encounter him?"

"Not much, unless he comes to Gotham. And if he follows his usual pattern, he'll move on again soon."

"It seems a shame."

Again Bruce was glad no one could see his face. "If he wants to talk, he knows where to find me."

"I see, sir. Well... I'd best be about my duties. Good luck in your search tonight." The tone was neutral, the footsteps steady as they sounded on the stairs leading up from the cave and vanished into silence.

Why am I standing here wasting time like this? Bruce reached for the Batman suit and picked it up this time, wondering why the sight of the bat emblem sent a shiver of distaste through him. It must be that the mention of Dick Grayson had shaken him up. All the more reason to go out, and lose himself in the one thing that had never failed to absorb his thoughts and emotions, to make up for the loss of Bruce Wayne's personal life in the far more important cause of the Batman's mission.

And yet - he felt another cold shiver as he pulled the mask over his face and, just for a moment, seemed to hear a chorus of small, shrill voices that he knew could only be in his mind. A shiver - of fear.

- - -

TBC...