PRINCESS

: Bruce, you need to come home.

:: Can't. I'm still in that meeting because you distracted me…

: End it.

:: What's wrong?

: There's someone here to see you.

:: Have Alfred tell them to come back later.

: Alfred isn't here.

:: Then you tell them.

: No Bruce. You need to come home. Now.

:: Diana, who is there?

: Your son.

"Shit." Bruce's stomach drops to his feet. He doesn't hear a word of what's being said anymore. Damn it, Dick. This is exactly what he was afraid of. "I'm sorry. Thank you all for coming. This meeting is over."

"Mr. Wayne?"

He's out the door and on his way to the elevator in less than ten seconds. "Grace, cancel the rest of my meetings. And have Lucius set Mr. Nigowa up with a contract. Whatever Lucius wants, he has a green light." Bruce buttons his suit jacket and the elevator doors close in front of him. He takes out his phone and calls Dick. But he's sent to voice mail.

He rapidly pushes the button on the panel to the private garage. Though logically he knows, it does nothing to make the elevator go faster. The urgency of the situation is grating on his nerves. Panic. That sinking feeling in his gut is straight up panic over the fact that his life is spiraling out of his control before his very eyes.

He calls again. He's sent to voice mail. Again.

"Son of a bitch."

Five fucking years they don't speak to one another and he just shows up now?

He calls Diana. She sends him to voice mail. "What the fuck?"

The tracker on her League comm device says she's in the glasshouse. Which is interesting because Dick has never been there. Bruce had the glasshouse built after the fire.

After Jason.

After his family was destroyed.

When he finally makes it to his car, it takes him longer than he wants to get out of the city. The roads off the highway exit morph into wooded tree-lined streets that take him to the estate and across to the lake. He parks in the carport next to the house and manages to not run to the door. Instead, he takes his sweet fucking time. Because the drive from Gotham has stirred up his anger to levels he hasn't felt since before the Black Zero event. Since the last time he's spoken to Dick. Since Jason was Killed.

He jerks the front door open and steps inside. Ever so carefully drops his keys into the Japanese glass bowl on the console table near the door and fists his hands deep in his trouser pockets. Two sets of eyes watch his every deliberate move from their positions on the couch and side armchair in the open living room. The air is so tense it crackles around him. He fights off the need to shiver. He's the fucking Batman damn it. He's the one who strikes fears in people's hearts. And yet…he can't deny there's a shard of panic embedding its way into his chest. Things look calm, but he knows they aren't. Diana has changed into a pair of comfortable loose pants and a droopy sweater. Her hair is brushed out and spilling in waves over her shoulders. It's the tight set of her mouth that tells him he's in way deeper shit than he was with the Batwoman costume.

Dick stands. The boy he raised, and trained, and called son, has grown into a man. Though he was a man, albeit young, when they parted ways, he's filled out. Grown thicker, yet still lean and graceful like the acrobat that he was born to be. A sense of pride worms its way into Bruce's resolve, but he remembers the words they spoke to each other and he ruthlessly squashes that hope.

"Bruce."

"Dick." He steps further into the house. Diana remains on the couch silently observing. He doesn't break his steady glare at Dick. "What are you doing here?"

"That's all you have to say to me?" There it is. That youthful arrogance. That cocksure attitude. What more is there to say that they hadn't been said already? The damage was done years ago. His waltzing back in on whim matters not one iota.

Bruce removes his suit jacket and places it over the back of the empty chair across the coffee table from Dick. "I see you've met Diana."

"If you mean we said 'hello' and then sat here in utter silence for an hour, then yes, we've met."

Bruce swings a glance at Diana, who shrugs. Her shoulders and the set of her jaw are still taut. She's angry. Rightfully so. Bruce has known this day would come. It's no less disconcerting.

Dick flashes a grin. "She wouldn't let me speak until you got home. That's a formidable lady, you've got here."

"I should leave you two alone," Diana rises from the sofa.

"Stay." Bruce's tone is sharp and he doesn't mean to take out his mood on her. He softens his stance and moves closer to her. "You belong here. He, on the other hand, does not anymore. Why are you here, Dick?"

"I actually came to talk, to see how you were."

"I'm fine."

"Yeah, I can see that."

"Why now?"

"I saw your picture from brunch. It's all over social media." He rubs his jaw. "Gotta admit, I was curious."

"Keeping tabs on me?"

"Please. Like you don't have a 24/7 monitor on me? I bet you can tell me what I had for breakfast this morning." There's a smug smirk that accompanies his bitter laugh. "I learned from the best."

Bruce doesn't dignify that with a response. However, he's not above a pointed retort. "So, if you've been watching, then you don't need an explanation. You should know what this is already."

"Well, it is public knowledge now. And you don't make mistakes like that, so it must be something serious. And if that's the case, I figured I should at least warrant a visit, find out exactly who defrosted that ice-cold heart of yours."

Diana sits up on the couch, alert and ready to fight. Bruce waves her off, glad that she at least feels protective enough to engage. "The last time we spoke you said you never wanted to see me again. Why care now?"

"Because Bruce…I do. I've always cared." Dick paced in front of the coffee table. "And forgive me for feeling nostalgic, but you look happy. I had to see it with my own eyes."

"You've seen, now get out."

"Enough of this," Diana shoots to her feet and slices her hand through the air. "This is nonsense. Neither one of you are saying anything. You talk in circles with insults and thinly veiled hurt. Whatever this rift is between you two, you need to fix it."

Dick opens his mouth to speak but she nails him with a glare. "I'm not finished." She huffs an exasperated sigh. "I don't pretend to know what your issues are. I didn't even know you existed…" Her heated glare slices from Dick to Bruce and his cheeks burn with shame. Satisfied he's felt her ire, she returns her gaze to Dick. "But I know him, and his desire to control things to avoid loss, so I'm pretty sure I have an idea about why you are at odds."

"Diana…" Bruce shifts.

"Save it." The fire in her eyes churns guilt he's long overdue. "I'm more concerned that the two of you talk and mend this rift. You can explain to me later why you chose not to tell me about your son."

"Sons…" Dick adds with an ironic twist of his mouth.

Her eyes widen. "Sons."

Bruce's teeth clench.

"Well, one's dead. Does he still have that morbid shrine to Jason down in the…basement?"

Her frown pierces Bruce's heart and he feels the anger and grief over the loss of Jason boil anew. His fists ball tightly and he closes his eyes in both frustration and remorse.

The heavy silence yawns between them coiling tighter by the second.

Bruce draws a long breath through his nose. She's right. They need to talk. "Since you're here…You might as well stay." He gestures to the chair Dick was sitting in. "Can I get you a drink?"

Dick waves a hand as Bruce moves to the decanter of scotch. "No. I've sworn off the stuff for a while now. I like it a little too much."

Bruce arches an eyebrow at that interesting tidbit. Somehow in all of his spying, he hadn't known Dick had a problem with alcohol. He hasn't been paying attention enough.

"Diana?" She shakes her head to decline. Bruce however, needs a drink, or twenty.

He pours himself a good portion, takes a swallow and then pours a little more before he sits on the couch between his estranged son and his lover.

"Where's Alfred?" Dick turns his gaze around the house.

Diana curls her feet up under her and places her hand on Bruce's shoulder. "He went out to shop for groceries for dinner."

"He'll happy to see you," Bruce says.

"I've missed him." Dick looks at his hands. A moment passes before he sits back against the chair. "So, tell me how you two met?"

"At a party. She stole something from me."

"Borrowed."

Dick lifts an ironic eyebrow. "I thought you were done with thieving women?"

Bruce hissed. "It's not even close to the same thing." Was Dick going to air all of his dirty laundry? Pain in the ass.

She nails him with another pointed look. "I'll add that to the list of things you'll you explain to me."

"Sure."

"Oh to be a fly on the wall for that conversation…"

"How's Barbara?" Bruce can't help the phony grin that slides over his teeth. He knows about the on-again/off-again relationship between his two former protégés. Currently they were off-again. So, the jab felt vindictive but good. Why should he be the only one on the hot seat?

"She's…good."

"You two not together?" He feigns innocence.

"It's complicated."

"Relationships can be that way," Diana offers.

"The call you Wonder Woman?" Dick redirects the attention off of him and back to what he really wants to know. "I've seen you on the news a few times."

"That is the name I was given a hundred years ago."

"A hundred?" Dick laughs. "No wonder why you have enough patience for him."

"I'm actually 5000 years old." She smiles as if she's testing him.

Dicks barks out a loud, shocked laugh. "So a ton of patience then?"

Her smirk is answer enough.

"I've got to say," Dick regards him for a long moment. "I'm a little offended you didn't ask me to be part of your team of heroes, Bruce."

Bruce lowers his gaze to the amber liquid in his glass. "It's not––I didn't exclude you…"

Diana lifts her chin and regards Dick with that self-assured gaze. "The team is made up of meta-humans to counteract threats from otherworldly sources." He's not sure why, but he's proud that she's standing up for him. Deflecting the heat. Someone finally defending his actions.

"Metas?"

"People with special abilities," Bruce says.

"Powers," Diana says. "From godlike sources or otherwise."

"Superman. Flash. Cyborg. The Aquaman." Bruce lists the members, in no particular order.

"And the Batman?"

"I'm the money."

"He's more than that." Diana shoves his shoulder. "Though he likes to think he's expendable."

"You?" Dick's mouth gapes open. "You're talking about Bruce Wayne? The king of control and righteous vengeance?"

"Yes. Of course, I am, who else would I be talking about?"

The front door pops open all conversation ceases. Alfred enters and stops dead in his tracks. "Master Richard, what a pleasant surprise."

Bruce's heart breaks at the look on Alfred's face. For whatever terrible things Bruce and Dick said to each other, the separation was hardest on Alfred. He'd loved both boys as grandsons, and to have them ripped from his life, by Bruce's doing, was unfair.

"Alfred, so good to see you again." There's hardly a moment's pause before Dick hops up and takes the canvas grocery bags from him as he used to do when he lived at the Manor. The action pulls on Bruce's heartstrings with nostalgia and remembrance.

Alfred straightens and falls back on his impeccable manners to hide the emotion welling to the surface. "To what do we owe this pleasure?"

"Curiosity."

"Ah, the photos in the paper." Alfred leads him past the sofa and into the kitchen. "I can assure you that things are quite different around here."

"He actually smiled a few times. Imagine that." Dick tosses Bruce a grin over his shoulder.

"I smile." Though there's a scowl on Bruce's face. He can feel it. He forces himself to lighten up but it falls flat. This is all so out of his realm of comfort.

"Why don't you stay for dinner?" Diana rises from the sofa, Bruce follows. "You could all catch up. Wouldn't that be nice, Bruce?"

Bruce jams both of his hands deep in the pockets of his trousers. "Sure. That sounds…Great."