Thanks to Patty and Syl for their great beta work. I think something you guys have been waiting for happens in this part. :-) Hope you enjoy it. Char :-)
COURT MARTIAL: Part 4:
Wally West pulled his mask off and let it drop to the floor as the door to his private quarters on the Watchtower closed behind him. In less than ten seconds he had changed into dark blue jeans and a red t-shirt with a yellow lightning bolt on it. He moved over to the sofa in his living quarters and dropped down on it. He would have already called Linda, explained what was going on and why he had to stay at the Watch Tower, except Linda wasn't there. He didn't know where she was. She had left him, and now Dick was here, in a cell, and he just couldn't ... go home ... like everything was normal. What was there to go home to?
The world was not normal and nothing might ever be normal again. The world had changed. Forever and not for better. He had yelled during the 'emergency business' meeting the JLA held to discuss their plans. It had taken every bit of control he had not to punch John Stewart in the face. Wally normally was not a hot head, but this was his best friend they were talking about. The very idea of sending him to some God forsaken hell hole prison planet light years away was not something Wally would ever agree with.
He ran through his rant again in his mind. He knew Batman well enough to know he would not want the League to "protect" his identity by sending his son to another planet. He knew Bruce Wayne would expose his secret to the world rather than see Dick packed off like a dark family secret. Wally had to admit that Wonder Woman made a valid point that Dick would be helpless in an earthly prison from all of his and Batman's enemies. Maybe she was right about that. Unarmed and exposed, the guards could not protect him and Dick would be unable to protect himself. But still ... a prison planet. That was harsh. As evil as Joker was, they kept him locked up on earth. Dick was nothing like Joker and they wanted to ship him off planet. Even if Dick did kill Blockbuster, it was a mistake. It had to be. He'd known Dick Grayson a long time and the man he knew was no murderer.
Despite his protestations, those of Superman, and serious reservations of the others, Stewart's campaigning for his plan worked and the other League members had outvoted them. The decision was made, should the State authorities turn the case over to the League – Dick would be sent off world to a prison planet in an obscure hell hole planetary system known only to the Lantern corp.
Wally's balled hand punched forward once, twice, and three times in rapid Flash succession, which succeeded in denting the wall and breaking two bones in his hand. The pain felt good and he dropped to his knees. This was helping – nothing would, he had failed to save his friend. Maybe if his uncle were still the Flash, they would've listened to him. Instead, his arguments seemed to go unheeded. He felt so frustrated and impotent. His best friend was sitting in the bowels of the Watch Tower in a cell, and there wasn't a damn thing he could do about it. His memory drifted back to happier times ... to the Titans years. They were teenagers who thought they could save the world. They knew when they grew up and became the Justice League that everything would be wonderful.
"God how stupid were we?" He shook his head. Turning, he saw the photograph of the original Titans. Reaching out, he picked it up and looked at it. "I can't believe we were that young." They were all in their costumes when the picture had been taken. He chuckled remembering it was Superman who took the photo. They'd been at the old JLA headquarters before they switched mentors for a week. He remembered Oliver Queen not knowing how to stock a fridge for a growing speedster. He smiled as he looked at Roy kissing Donna. She was so beautiful, even then. And there was Dick holding him in a headlock. "We were gonna save the world, huh? Now you're gone, Donna, and Garth has so many problems, and now ... Dick," his voice choked. This just couldn't be happening. What the hell good did it do for him to be in the JLA? He couldn't save the world. He couldn't even save his friends.
"Aww, man," Wally said as he set the photo on the coffee table. "I better let him know about Dick." He moved to his communicator and enabled the telephone connection that allowed him to call anyone on the planet with a telephone as if he was sitting at home in Keystone City rather than sitting on the moon. One hand picked up a towel and wrapped around his bleeding knuckles. Dialing the number, he listened as the phone rang.
"Yeah ... what'cha want?" The sleepy voice filtered in his ear.
"Roy," Wally started tentatively. He stopped because he was about to choke up again.
"Yeah ... whozit?"
"Its ... Wally."
"Wally, 'm gonna kill you! Do you know what fu-" He paused remembering who he was talking to and the little ears on his end that always seemed to be around when he least expected or wanted them to be, "frickin' time it is???" Roy asked as he propped up on his elbow and looked at this clock which flashed 3:27 am in large red letters."I ... I didn't know what to do ... I ... Time? uh ... no, I wasn't paying attention. I'm sorry. It's just ... it's ... Dick"Roy sat up, fully awake. "What? What about Dick?""He's ... been arrested. For ... murder."Roy laughed and lay back on his pillow. "Okay, okay Wally you got me, but remember payback's a bitch." He laughed a deep throaty laughter as his mind already started thinking of a better prank to play on his friend.Wally pushed his hair out of his face and sighed. "No Roy. Man, I'm serious.""You can't be serious. Wally, Dick doesn't get arrested for jaywalking let alone murder. Dick doesn't kill flies at picnics.""Dude, he's here ... at the Watch Tower ... in a holding cell. Superman brought him in about an hour ago. I ... I ... Man, I had to lock him up." Wally closed his eyes and sunk into the leather of the sofa. "Dude, I had to lock Dick up.""Locked ... locked up? You locked Dick up? What the hell is wrong with you? No, that's not right. Not Dick. Wally, this joke has gone far enough.""It's not a joke." Wally let out a deep breath. "Dude, this is just ... insane."
"So you just -- what -- threw Dick in a jail cell like he's some frigging criminal?"
"Superman told me I had to. There's been a big meeting going on. I just couldn't take it and I walked out. No one was listening to me anyway."Roy was out of bed picking up his shirt. "How do I get up there?""There's a transporter stationed in New York. At a warehouse owned by Wayne Enterprises. Roy, I don't think they'll let us see him any more tonight.""I'll be there as soon as I can." Roy almost growled, "I can see him and I will. They'll need an army to stop me."Wally sat up, propping his elbow on his knee. "You think I should call Garth? Let him know? Or the others?"Roy pulled his pants up and searched his room for his shoes. "I don't know how ta reach him. He's still tryin' ta ...well, things are still bad for him with Atlantis. Let's just ... no sense in this mistake getting out to anyone else unless it has too. I'll be there in twenty ... and I'm gonna need coffee. And Wally?""Yeah?"
"Make it good fucking coffee."
"Daddy! Languages!"
Roy whirled around as Lian stared with blurry, but still condemning eyes. He sighed, rolled his eyes, and pulled his hand through his hair. "Wally, make it forty five minutes. I've got a small problem in bunny pajamas."
Dick sat on his bunk, his back against the wall and his legs stretched out before him. He didn't know how long he had sat in this cell. Over and over again, his eyes surveyed his small cage. Gray bunk, gray table bolted to the side of the wall opposite the bunk, a gray stool bolted to the floor sat before the table. Behind a small gray wall were his sink, toilet and shower. Gray walls, gray roof, gray ceiling and gray door. A bolted and locked gray door. The color matched his mood. It also matched his future. He looked around again and sighed. His future was going to be full of little gray rooms like this one. All with bolted, locked doors. It didn't matter how long he had sat here. He wasn't going anywhere, even though the bat in him had already noted six separate ways to escape, he ignored the unsolicited observations and continued to stare.
He was so tired. His body was exhausted. He hadn't slept more than a few hours in the last forty eight hours. Yet, he wasn't sleepy. Dick didn't know if he would ever be able to sleep again. His mind kept showing him the scene in the stairwell. Blockbuster and Tarantula and the gun. The thundering shot belched forth in gas and flame from the cool black barrel of the large automatic. The crack of bone and ripping of skin and hair as the bullet slammed into his skull, sending Desmond crashing back. His body crumpling into a bloody massive heap, leaving a long bloody smear on the floor as he finally settled with a deep resounding wet death rattle as blood bubbled over the grimaced lips in that last breath. The blood spray hit the wall and began running down as the mixture of skull and brain slowly fell and ooze down into the spreading pool of dark crimson blood. More of the blood had turned into a fine mist and misted down on top of them. The smell of the dying body, the blood, the gunsmoke overwhelmed his sense of smell. The smell and the sound reverberated through his mind as his eyes focused in on the blood, which was everywhere – the walls, the floor, and the killers. Dick looked down at his hands. The blood wasn't there anymore. It hadn't soaked through his gloves, but he could still see it. His hands would always be stained with blood.
Dick looked up at the sound of the cell door opening. His eyes met Bruce's as he entered the cell. Dick couldn't help noticing that while he wore the Batman suit, the cape and cowl were distinctively missing. Dick felt his throat constricting. He could no longer look at Bruce and looked down at his blanket again. He pulled his legs up and wrapped his arms around them.
Bruce moved further into the cell and didn't seem to notice when the door closed shut behind him. "Dick?"
Dick's chest heaved. His mouth was dry. He didn't know if he could speak. Balling and un-balling his fist, he finally found a semblance of his voice, "'m sorry ... so sorry."
"Dick, look at me."
"I ... can't."
Bruce stood and stared at the young man before him. It didn't take a detective to tell Dick was devastated. Bruce's own conflicting emotions raged inside him. He thought he had worked through his emotions while watching Dick on the monitor. How wrong he was. Being in the room with Dick now ... so many emotions stormed throughout his mind and soul. His jaw flexed as he watched him. "Tell me what happened."
Dick shook his head. "I ... I can't."
"Yes. You. Can."
Dick ran his hands through his hair. His fingers interlocked as his hands rested on the back of his head. "I killed him."
"I don't believe that. Look at me." Bruce's voice was firm. A deceiving calm that did not betray the raging tides of his emotions.
"Why're you here?"
"You're here. Now look at me and tell me what really happened."
"I told you! I kill--"
"Nightwing! Report!" His voice was gruff, firm, and in control.
Dick sighed and sat up. He looked at Bruce and began. "The last forty-eight hours have been, literally, hell on earth. Blockbuster discovered my secret identity. He burned down the circus and I ... I couldn't save everyone."
Bruce nodded and sat beside him on the bunk. "Twenty dead, over a hundred injured. I saw it on the news."
Dick nodded and continued. "Then ... my building ... everyone died. Everyone. Just because ... they knew me."
"Including Yoska," Bruce said softly. "Go on."
Dick looked up at his mentor and sighed. "So I went after him -- Blockbuster -- but I had to go through all of his 'soldiers' first."
Bruce sighed and sat on the bunk with Dick. "Like Bane did with me. To wear me out."
Dick half laughed. "Except you had to deal with raving lunatics, all I had to deal with was a bunch of third rate bargain basement hoods. I didn't get worn out, I just got worked up. Adrenaline flowing ... and then enter Shrike."
"That boy Boone? He still thinks he's a match for you?"
"Not anymore," Dick replied, his voice a low growl. Bruce simply nodded and waited for Dick to continue. "Then I went after Blockie. Now that ... that was a fight. He's not ... was not ... a third rater."
"I assume that's where your injuries came from."
Dick nodded. "Yeah, most of them. The ones that count." He exhaled. He hadn't realized he had taken that deep of a breath. "I wasn't fighting to take him down, I was trying to get a confession on tape."
"Did you?"
"Yeah." Dick shook his head. "God, you're gonna think I'm an idiot. I know I'm an idiot. I let her talk me into taking the tape to her brother. What the hell was I thinking?" Dick asked rhetorically as he leaned back resting his tired back For the first time in he didn't know how long, his body was starting to feel fatigued.
"Her? The same her who killed Blockbuster?"
"Yeah."
"Tarantula."
"Yeah," Dick sighed. "Her brother's the D.A. in the 'Haven. Like I shouldn't have been surprised, he worked for Blockbuster. Destroyed the tape." Dick looked at Bruce and sighed. "Don't roll your eyes. It was my only copy. Didn't know you raised a fool, huh?"
"No, I didn't ... raise a fool, that is."
"Well, I just ... I dunno ... maybe that's when I lost it. Everything just seemed so hopeless and useless, and then Amy was there shining a Nightwing signal to get my attention. She tried to give me my job back so I could go after Blockie legally ... and shoot him 'in self defense'. I didn't do that because we don't kill." Dick contempt for himself dripped from his every word. "I wasn't a cop, I never really was. It was just a cover; a means to an end. An end I failed at."
Silence filled the room for minutes that seemed like eternity. Neither man knew quite how to follow that statement. Words never came easy to Bruce Wayne. Dick Grayson could normally communicate with a mime. Words had always seemed to flow so easily from his heart. Not now, maybe not ever again. Finally, Dick started to speak again. Hurt and shame echoing his every phrase.
"Anyway ... I went to see the reporter ... Michaels ... to get information. Blockbuster had other plans and put a bullet in her brain right in front of me. Told me to get used to it. That was my future. I lost it. I beat him. I had him cold and on the ground. He didn't care. He knew he had me by the balls. He knew who I was, and he kept taunting me. Threatened everyone I knew or would ever know, no matter how casually. Threatened everyone I love. You. He threatened you. And I knew it would never stop. I knew he couldn't hurt you as Batman, but he could expose you or worse, he could hire an assassin who could take Bruce Wayne out in a board meeting. He laughed because he knew there wasn't a damn thing I could do to stop him. Laughed because I don't kill ... didn't kill."
Dick stood up and walked to the back wall. He placed his hands on the wall. His breathing was labored. "Boy, was he wrong."
Bruce stood and followed Dick. Placing his hand on his shoulder, he softly said, "Go on, Dick."
"Tarantula showed up and ... she said she could stop him. All I had to do was," his voice started cracking, "step aside." The dam broke and Dick's body shook with sobs. His knees buckled, but he somehow managed to continue to stand, holding himself up by propping on the wall. "And ... I did. I stepped aside. She killed him. We killed him." Dick dropped to his knees, no longer able to maintain any control. "I killed him!"
"Dick," Bruce said as he kneeled behind him. "Son."
Dick only sobbed more. "Bruce ... I let him ... break me. Let him bring me to his level. I killed him. I wanted it to stop, and I made sure it stopped. I failed. I failed Catalina, I failed You. I failed Babs, and Tim, and Alfred, and Leslie. God forgive me, I failed myself. I betrayed my vow. I became what we fight against and I ... dammit ... it should've been me. I should've just ... I should've died. Instead I just -- "
Bruce's arms wrapped around his son in an uncomfortable hug. This man wasn't accustomed to showing his emotions, but his heart was breaking as much as his child's was. "Never think it would be better if you died. Never. Nothing could be worse than that. Especially for me."
"I gave up on hope. Bruce, I gave up."
"Shh, shh. I know it doesn't feel like it now, but it will get better. You didn't give up. You made a mistake. You're human, you're allowed. I know this because my son told me that."
"How can you even be in the same room with me? I violated everything you ever taught me. I've shamed you in front of the only people whose opinion you value. How can you --"
"Dick, I will never give up on you, even when you want me to. I will always be here for you and I am always proud of you. That's what partners ... no. That's what fathers do." Quietly, he held his son. He didn't know if they could get through this. All he knew for sure was ... whatever happened now, they would go through it together.
TO BE CONTINUED ...
