Disclaimer: This is purely a work of fiction all characters are owned by DC Comics with no copyright infringement intended. This is something that pretty much sprung whole from my imagination and wouldnt go away until I put it down on paper so to speak. I tried to keep to some kind of canon timeline but with reboots, rebirths and the New 52 its pretty much a shot in the dark. I grew up with that debacle of a show Batman in the '60's ...at 5yrs old Robin was the attraction and Batman extraneousl material. Recently I've gotten back into reading comics but could spend the next 5 years trying to splice together the corresponding series of events with all the Deaths, non deaths, its only a flesh wound, alternate worlds, universes and story arcss. So
this might be a little AU. But here it goes
The Letter
The envelope had been stored in a safe deposit box to be opened only on this occasion that and and a single yellowing photo, showing them together – smiling – cheerful unless you looked into their eyes. They say that the eyes are the windows to a mans soul, looking into theirs you saw only darkness and pain. His hands were shaking, something that hadnt happened since that night so long ago when his life changed forever. Blue eyes studied the familiar handwriting, crisp yet with a slight flair. The words blured for a moment, he shook his head to clear his vision.
"Bruce,
I'm dead, not that I haven't been before, but they say the third times the charm, so if you're reading this it must be final. This was not your fault, it was however, inevitable. I wanted to say good-bye and thank you for making me into the man Iam...sorry...was, the man I needed to become. Thank you for taking me under your wing in more ways than one. Yes, the circus folk, my first family would have done their best, but none of the would have understood the darkness that claims you, the hate, the anger, the desire for vengence, you did, you understood what I needed and how to deal with it.
Were you the best father? Well let's be honest you would never win ' Father of the Year' but you did the best you could. There were a lot of nights growing up that you were gone. I felt lost, alone abandoned, but I grew to understand the life you, and eventually I alongside you would lead.
Anyone who talks about lifes growing pains has no idea what it was like under your watchful eye. There were many times I hated you and told you as such, usually after you had me repeat a move what seemed like a hundred times. Little did I realise that demand for perfection would save our lives – my – life ten times that amount.
Neither you nor Alfred were ready for an angry, hormonal teenager. Boy was I angry at you, at the world. Other guys played sports, hung out, went on dates, worried about getting to first base with their girlfriend. Me, I trianed, patrolled, trained some more and if I was lucky got to vent my frustrations on a hapless thug, but even that release you reined in when I got - shall we say enthusiastic – with my application of justice.
As I got older I needed to spread my wings, to find myself. You weren't sure what to do with me. We both got frustrated with the ability to communicate – I'm sorry for that. I resented the fact that I didn't have a life, that I had to be 'On Call' all the time, I didn't take into accound all the sacrafices you had made and were making right alongside of me. In reality Bruce Wayne was the mask you were forced to wear. 'Normal' just wasn't in our wheelhouse. Then came the night that broke the proverbial camels back, I got shot, and not just once. I think then was perhaps the first time you faced true fear. You never considered that someone might sacrafice their own life for yours. Your desire to keep all of us safe no matter the cost went into overdrive.
It was my choice Bruce, mine alone to make, and I would do it again without hesitation everytime. But, you would hear none of it. For you the only answer was to take me out of the picture, put me out of harms way. I hated you for that for a long time. You took the only life I had know for ten years and ripped it away from me. Once again I was lost and alone, only this time there was no Bruce Wayne to rescue me. To be honest Bruce you doing that almost killed me, it shattered my sense of self-worth. It seemed that me getting shot was proof that I was no longer worthy of being your partner. There were some very dark days. Days that I struggled to get up in the morning, days where I wondered if it was even worth taking another breath. But, I survived and it made me stronger, I carried that anger for a while but eventually I came to terms with it. I got my act together and moved to Bludhaven – a hell hole if there ever was one. Out of that crucible Nightwing was born and – the rest they say is history.
Well this is getting pretty long so I'm going to wrap things up. I died doing what you taught me to do, fighting for the little guy, protecting those that couldn't protect themselves. I died doing what I loved despite the sacrafices. I hope I made you proud, I tried to live up to those standards set years ago, sometimes I fell short, but hopefully not too often. We never used the "L" word between us, but, I know in your way it was there. So I'm going to break that silence. I love you Bruce, my friend, my mentor,...my fatther."
Dick
The dark figure could have been carved from the same stone as the gargoyles that flanked him on the rooftop. Alone in the shadows and the silence...Batman wept.