Doing the Right Thing

By: Sarah Shima

Epilogue 1:

Dick Grayson, dressed in clean scrubs from STAR, stepped out of the taxi, the Ravager's costume in his arms. He paid the man from Ray Palmer's money, and then stood awkwardly by the gates as the car sped away.

Once he could no longer see it, he turned his attention to the towering mansion before him. He never thought he would feel so happy to see Wayne Manor again. The bundle held tightly to his pained chest, Dick punched in his security codes, and watched the gate spring open. From there he walked slowly, with a slight limp, down the long drive, his heart beating rapidly and his eyes fixated on the door.

Whoever was inside would have been alerted to the presence at the gates; there was no way to sneak into the Manor, not even through the Cave. Normally he would have vaulted over the fence, taking it at a running leap and then somersaulting over the spikes with a daredevil grin. It never ceased to put an expression of fear on Alfred's dignified features; a man who could be horrified by seeing Dick jumping over a fence when he knew that he was dodging bullets all night long. He would have loved to do that now, but his chest injuries would have made his spin off, and he would probably end up skewered on the spikes.

Either way, they would know he was here.

He used to find that fact comforting in a way. He tried to play games to evade anyone from knowing he was on the property, but by the time he got to the Manor, it was always the same; Alfred doing his best stone-faced expression with cookies or a snack. It was nice, it was… home.

He paused in his walk, immediately wondering how he and Bruce could have become so distant so quickly. He had thought about coming back, but only to see Alfred. He wanted Bruce to make the first move, but Dick now realized that if he waited too long, either he or Bruce could be dead. Stubbornness was no excuse for putting this off any longer.

He remembered with a stab of anguish, how destroyed Bruce had been in Arkham; the pain on his duplicate's face. That was unfair, those two still cared for each other, still loved each other, and because of one man, both of them had been ruined.

It had been similar for him and Bruce, only the 'man' who destroyed their relationship could be broadened to include both the Joker and Bruce. Dick would never bestow that much power in the Joker; Bruce had been the one too afraid for him to realize that he was doing the wrong thing, he had let his fear of losing a loved one make him lose that person.

Dick never really understood it before, but now he knew.

Was it because now he knew what Bruce could become with him dead? Because he had been given a rare opportunity, to see his life played out differently?

He could never be sure.

And there stood the door, a scant five yards away, and yet seeming a million miles from him. He wondered how Bruce would react to his sudden homecoming; if he would accept him or turn him away.

Ah well, us Flying Grayson's are born to take risks, Dick sighed, marching ahead. The wounds on his chest, stitched as they were, still burned and sent pain throughout him, and he felt more exhausted than ever. But he would continue on, he needed to do this.

All too soon he reached the door. Sucking in a breath for determination, Dick lifted his scarred right arm to knock. Before his fist hit the wood, the double doors swung open, revealing a surprised and curious butler.

"Master Dick?" he asked incredulously. Dick looked to the left and saw that Alfred was holding a heavy vase in one hand.

"Were you going to whack me with that?" Dick asked with a grin, motioning the Alfred's domestic weapon.

Alfred set the vase down, and then stood back from the door so Dick could enter. He did so, shuffling his feet on his way. "Have you given up a life of crime-fighting for that of a nurse's assistant?" Alfred asked.

"What? Oh, the scrubs. Trust me Alfred, it's a long, long story," Dick sighed. "I was hoping to tell it to you and Bruce. Is he still asleep?" Dick asked, knowing that it was early for Bruce.

"Yes indeed." Alfred looked him over for a moment with healthy concern, taking in the visible wounds along with the gauze and tape which suggested they had been treated.

"All right then. I guess I'll get cleaned up. My room still in the same place?"

"Yes, sir," Alfred replied. "Would you care for some breakfast after you change?"

At the mention of food, Dick suddenly realized how hungry he really was. He had not eaten much while running for his life. "That would be great, Alfred." Dick made to approach the stairs, but changed his mind mid-stride. Putting down the Ravager costume, he walked up to the butler and threw his arms around him. Forgetting about the pain, he pulled Alfred to him and they embraced for a moment. Then Dick pulled away, and he could see the happiness that lit his grandfather-figure's eyes. "I'm sorry that I didn't come back sooner."

"I am just pleased to see you now. Are you back solely for a visit?" he questioned, alluding to the possibility of it involving his work with the Titans.

"Something happened to me recently that made me realize that I just can't stand the gap between me and Bruce, so I'm here to try and patch it up the best I can."

"I see," Alfred replied. "Would you like me to take a look at your wounds?" he added, proving that Alfred had not missed Dick's earlier wince of pain.

"They've already been tended to. Besides, I have a friend with a healing power who's just been dying to repay me," Dick added, thinking of Raven. "I should get out of these scrubs," Dick said, smiling at Alfred as he went up the stairs.

He threw open the door to the room he lived in for most of his life and stared in at its contents. Dick felt as if he were in a time warp walking into the room. It had not been changed at all, the same random posters adorned the walls, and everything seemed to be just where he left it, although it had been cleaned regularly.

He walked into the bathroom determined to, at the very least, wash his hair. His favorite shampoo was still on its shelf.

Upon exiting the shower, he went into the expansive closet and found some jeans and a T-shirt, his preferred non-superhero clothing. Minding his injuries, he pulled on the clothes.

He sighed, knowing that Bruce would be waking up soon, and then he would face a moment he had anticipated and dreaded for years.

As Bruce walked into the dining room for breakfast, the first thing he noticed were the three plates set out. Since only two of them lived in the house, there was no reason for three plates. And Bruce was pretty sure he had not invited anyone over.

Wandering into the kitchen, he smelled pancakes, and saw Alfred preparing a myriad of breakfast foods. He paused in the doorway, wondering why Alfred would be making Dick's favorite food. There was no way that he had come for a meal.

"Alfred, why the special meal?" he asked.

"We have company for breakfast," Alfred said, turning from Bruce.

Bruce turned from the butler, knowing he would get no more answers, and headed into the living room. He immediately spotted a small bundle lying on the floor. Reaching down to pick it up, Bruce noticed that it appeared to be a bodysuit. Unfolding it, he noticed the inside was stained with deep red blood.

He returned to the dining room as Alfred brought breakfast in, noting how the older gentleman kept glancing nervously at the doorway. Bruce's ears finally picked up the sound of footsteps on the stairs, approaching the room. The footfalls were staggered as if the person were limping. Bruce waited, and hoped his face did not display his shock as Dick Grayson walked towards him. Hair damp and hanging in his eyes, he wore jeans and simple Gotham Knights T-shirt. As he took the seat across the table from Bruce, Wayne noticed the two deep cuts on his right cheek, his swollen eye, and he saw how he put a hand to his side and winced when he sat down.

"Hi Bruce," he said with a slightly nervous grin.

"What are you doing here?" Bruce asked; his tone light, but his eyes serious.

"Just thought it was long passed time for a visit…" Dick began. He reached for the maple syrup and Bruce saw the long scratches on his arm, some partially covered by bandages and gauze.

"What happened to you?" Bruce asked.

"Long, long, story," Dick sighed. "But I suppose now's the time to tell it." He paused, collecting his thoughts, and then began. "I assume you heard about the explosion in Jump City Labs last week?" Bruce nodded. "Do you know what caused the explosion?"

"There were theories that mentioned everything from terrorism to other-dimensional beings attacking," Bruce snorted. "Nothing conclusive was released to the press."

"Well the rumors were closer than you think. They were developing a machine that using theories of temporal anomalies and shifts in the time-space continuum; something similar to the JLA transporters. What the scientists did not realize was that they had a working, viable machine on their hands. That is, until Slade and I got to it."

"Explain," Bruce said, perturbed by the last sentence Dick had said.

"I caught him breaking in, stealing chemicals. We fought, and to make a long story just a little shorter, we accidentally activated the machine. It ripped open a hole in the dimensional wall, and blew up as it sent up through."

"You… what?"

"I traveled to a near-parallel world. But in this one, everything had turned out differently. Three years ago Ra's Al Ghul had taken over a part of Gotham and began working to create his utopian society or whatever. To make a long story shorter, three years ago Ra's destroyed Batman… by killing Robin."

Bruce did not reply, and sat silently as Dick explained everything and spun his story, going from the explosion in Jump City, to the encounter with Two-Face, Jim Gordon, Arkham Asylum, and continuing through until his return to Gotham. Certain things Dick left out – being tortured to death, seeing his parents, and coming back from the dead, for instance. He also tried to keep the story short, not going into more detail than necessary, just letting him get the idea.

"It seems you had quite the experience," Bruce said, standing and turning away from Dick.

"Yeah, and it made me realize something, Bruce," Dick began, slowly rising to his feet and walking across the room to Bruce's side. "This rift between us… I never thought it would get this big. We were once closer than this; perfect partners, and now we haven't even spoken in three years. It's wrong, Bruce. And I don't want this between us anymore. I don't want to wake up one day and hear the news that Batman took a bullet and realize I let our stubbornness keep us apart."

From behind the pair, Alfred gave a secret smile of satisfaction.

"I'm not saying I want my old job back; being your partner. That's over. I live in Jump, and I like leading the Titans, that's my life now. But that doesn't mean that I want to just keep ties with Gotham severed. I lived more years here than I did in the circus, and you and Alf, you're my family. So, what do you say, Bruce, want to try and bridge this gap?"

"Dick… when I fired you… it was because I was…" Dick waited for him to continue, anticipating his words, but wanting Bruce to actually say them. "Afraid. I would rather have you hate me and be alive than to have you die. I know it was selfish, but..." he paused then, and then smiled slightly. "A whole lot of good it did me. You hated me and were still in danger."

"Bruce I can't give this up. This superhero gig has become as much a part of me as being an acrobat. It saved me from my anger and need for revenge when I was a kid, and now it's what I want to do, and what I do best. I can't quit, and I won't quit; not even for you."

"I realize that, and I won't ask you to again. It never really was my decision to make, was it?"

"Gee, now I'm wishing we had this conversation years ago," Dick sighed at the sudden understanding passing between them.

"I guess one of us needed to break the ice," Bruce said. "And I'm glad you did."

"Does this mean you want to repair what little is left of our 'relationship'?" Dick questioned with a quirk of his eyebrow.

"Yes, I do."

Epilogue 2:

After returning from a hard day of fighting crime, the Teen Titans were incredibly tired. Collapsing in the Main Room, the team wanted nothing more than food, and some relaxation. Cyborg looked dismally at the phone which suddenly seemed so out of reach, wishing he had the strength to grab it so he could order a pizza.

Suddenly, a pizza box dropped from the ceiling, landed flat in Cyborg's lap. He pushed it aside and leapt to his feet, his teammates doing the same. "You know, we really need to improve our security," a familiar voice laughed. At the same time, a dark figure flipped down from the rafters, somersaulting twice in the air before landing gracefully on his feet.

"R…Robin?" Cyborg demanded incredulously, viewing the person in front of him. 'Robin' stood before them, but he did not look like Robin. In his jeans and T-shirt he could have been anybody, though the dark shades had the same effect on his appearance as the mask.

"Right in one, give the man a prize!" Robin laughed. "I figured you guys would be hungry," he added, motioning to the pizza. When no one responded, Robin just looked at them questioningly. The Titans were all gaping at him, shocked.

Starfire broke the odd silence, bursting forward and pulling Robin into a bone-crushing hug. "Robin, you have returned!"

"Yeah, yeah I have," Robin responded, hugging her back. "But could you let go…" he added in deference to his injured body.

"Robin you are hurt!" Starfire exclaimed. Raven took a step forward with concern.

"Not that badly," Robin reassured, waving Raven back for the moment.

"Dude, what happened! We tried to find you, but there was all this talk about different dimensions, and how you could've ended up in some alternate reality, and a bunch of other things I don't really understand!" Beast Boy explained.

"Yeah… about that… I'll explain everything later, but first there's something important I need to share with all of you," Robin began. He gestured for everyone to sit down, which they did so obligingly, all eyes trained on him.

Folding his hands in his lap, Robin turned to his friends. "I think it's past time that I tell you all something very important to me." He reached for the sunglasses, and pulled them off in one fluid motion, revealing intense blue eyes. "My name is Richard Grayson."

Epilogue 3:

A stately black Bentley approached the gates of Arkham Asylum. The man at the wheel leaned towards the window, displaying his identification to the guards. They took a quick look and then nodded curtly; bored. The Bentley proceeded to the main door.

Sitting in the backseat, Dick rubbed his fingers nervously as the Bentley pulled to a stop. Alfred turned to face him from the front seat. "Are you certain you wish to go alone?" he asked with concern. The young master had only been returned to him a week ago, and Alfred worried about him.

"Yeah Alfred," Dick responded flatly as he pushed the car door open and stepped out into the sunny afternoon. He pushed agitatedly at the bandage on his head as he walked through the front doors of the asylum, a place he had only ever been to in the dead of night.

Approaching the check-in desk, Dick breathed in the smell of ammonia, a sign of a sterile environment, and felt his stomach turn. He hated being here, but he hated the idea of Bruce being locked in here even worse. He would find a way to fix that; he had to.

After signing in, he was ushered to a meeting room. The dark walls and table reminded him of Ra's Al Ghul's stronghold, and he became acutely afraid and claustrophobic. However, he forced himself to remember that he was not being locked in here; he could leave whenever he wanted to.

He closed his eyes and took in deep, steady breaths to calm and reassure himself. After what seemed like ages, the door opposite him slid open. He watched with a heavy heart as two guards brought Bruce into the room.

From across the table, their eyes met, and a spark of recognition ignited in Bruce's. Both sat stiffly as the guards exited, and then finally Dick put his full attention on Bruce. Quieting the butterflies in his stomach, he swallowed hard, and then said in a light, conversational tone,

"Hello Bruce. It's been a long time."

The End.

A/N: Thank you to everyone who has reviewed and read my story, I had an amazing time writing it, and I am happy to have shared it with all of you. I only hope you enjoyed it as well.

Thank you to dlsky for including me in this challenge, it was an honor to be selected, and it was great to stretch my imagination and abilities as a writer with such a task.

I leave you now with these epilogues, and I hope you feel that the story has reached a conclusive end. However, Dick will return with his friends in the alternate dimension in a sequel, so be sure to keep your eyes open for its debut chapter.

Thank you once again, and I hope you enjoyed this work!

Sarah Shima