Summary: An important decision must be made with the fate of multiverse at stake…of course.
Love, Fate, and the Multiverse
By Syl Francis
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Wedding Day: Part III
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"Donna, you look…wonderful!" Dick smiled, warmed by Donna's answering grin at his weak pun. In truth, his heart wasn't in it. Taking a moment to gather his thoughts, he held her eyes for a second but quickly looked away. He couldn't do it. He couldn't walk her down the aisle and hand her over to that scumbag, a man who didn't appreciate just how remarkably lucky he was.
The next minute, he chastised himself. What was he doing? Today was supposed to be the happiest day of Donna's life. She was spoken for. She had given her heart and her promise to another man. If Dick had wanted her for himself, then he should have spoken up long ago and taken her off on his own. He'd given his word that he would do this, but knowing what he knew now about Terry Long, how could he let his best friend marry him without first telling her of his discovery?
Taking a deep, calming breath, he turned and faced her fully. "D, we've gone through so much. You know you're like family to me, right?"
"Of course, Dick! And, having you in my life has been a gift from Hera. It is a great blessing to have not just you but all my loved ones here today to share my happiest day."
As she spoke, she stepped into his arms, and her words fell into the background. All Dick could think of was how right she felt in his arms. He had to speak up now or forever hold his peace. But would he be speaking up for the right reasons—to protect Donna? Or for his own selfish ones—because he now knew that he himself was in love with her? As these thoughts flashed through his mind, he heard her sweet voice close to his ears.
"I love you, Dick Grayson. I'm so glad that you're walking me down the aisle. I wouldn't dream of anyone else."
Her words decided his action. He knew that she might hate him after this, but in all good conscience he simply could not allow his dearest friend since childhood to marry a man who simply wanted to use her.
"Donna… you know I love you and I'd do anything for you?"
Noting his intent gaze and change in demeanor, she knew something was bothering him. "Dick? What is it? What's wrong?"
"D, I need you to sit down."
Worried sapphire eyes on him—the same wide, innocent eyes he'd fallen in love with all those years ago—Donna did as he asked.
"Donna…I need to tell you something. You're not going to like what I have to say, so please hear me out. If after what I tell you, you still want me to walk you down the aisle, I will. If you want to kick me out…I'll understand. If you never speak to me again, well…" His voice trailed away.
"Dick, I swear if this some kind of joke that you and Wally thought up, it's not funny!"
"No! This isn't a joke!" Dick said sharply. "I'm just having a really hard time coming up with the words to tell you."
"Then just tell me, Dick. I can't stand this build up. It'll only get worse the longer it takes you to say it." She caught his hand in hers. "So please…just tell me." Nodding, Dick covered their clasped hands with his other one. Unable to meet her eyes, he told her.
~ / ~ / ~
Three years later…
Dick sat unhappily on the sofa in the east wing sitting room, his chin propped up on his fist. Seriously…there were so many better things he could be doing right now. Sticking pins in his eyes came to mind. Better yet, zip-tying and gagging the juniors just to get this whole ordeal over with also bore some serious consideration. Meeting Bruce's eyes, he thought he saw a similar thought go through his adoptive father's mind.
The annual family portrait sitting had been so much easier when it was only the two of them. Now…? He watched as his two younger brothers, Tim and Damian, squabbled—first with harsh words, then nearly coming to blows. And then Titus, Damian's Great Dane, got into it.
Which is when Bruce stepped in.
Grabbing Tim and Damian by the collar, he murmured a polite "Excuse us," to the photographer, followed by a commanding, "Titus, heal!" to the dog. Titus followed obediently, while Bruce dragged the two combative boys, none-too-gently, into the adjoining room.
Before closing the door behind them, Bruce turned around and gave Dick a look of warning: Don't go anywhere.
Dick sighed. Yeah…sticking pins in his eyes was beginning to seem like a better and better idea. He wondered what Donna was doing at that moment.
Whoa! Don't go there, you idiot! What brought that on? I haven't thought of Donna in months! Another voice in his head spoke up. Liar! She's all you've thought of for the past three years. Dami's right, Grayson. You are pathetic!
"Excuse me, Mr. Grayson?" The words were accompanied by a nervous throat being cleared. "Sir, do you have any idea how long—?"
Gratefully, Dick turned to the photographer—Simon O'Day, he remembered—who was trying with great difficulty to maintain his professional detachment. Dick stood, giving him an apologetic look. "Please, call me Dick. And I'm sorry about this, Simon. The boys can be a bit rambunctious at times. Sibling rivalry, y'know?"
Rambunctious? Channeling Alfred much? Like I said…pathetic!
Sudden, loud thumping noises signaled that violence had erupted from the other side of the solid, mahogany doors. Resounding crashes—I hope that wasn't the Ming vase—Bruce's angry bass—Yep, it was the Ming all right—accompanied by the sounds of flesh pounding flesh—The rambunctious boys are going at each other—could be heard.
Dick felt his face heating up. Turning to Simon, he grabbed the photographer's arm and led him away from the study toward the kitchen. "Why don't you and I go see what Alfred's cooking up? Maybe we can even raid the cookie jar. He makes chocolate chip cookies that are out of this world!" As he led the nervous photographer away, he noted that World War III was settling into a long campaign in the adjacent room.
Dick grimaced. Bruce was probably going all Batman on the two antagonistic Robins. And it would serve them right. After their behavior, he doubted if Bruce would agree to a family movie night tonight. It was sad, really. Dick loved his younger brothers—even Jason despite his tendency to want to kill them at random times.
And he got along fine with them as individuals…mostly. Damian was still a work in progress.
And Jason was…okay, a killer. But his heart was in the right place. After all, he only killed the scum who preyed on the weak and innocent. Except when he got on his "I hate Batman and everyone associated with him" bandwagon and attacked the whole family. Still, since he'd joined up with Roy and Kori, he wasn't quite so bitter anymore. In fact, Jason hadn't tried to kill a member of the family in a couple of months.
Dick had been a little disappointed when Jason declined their invitation to join them for the annual family portrait, but it was probably for the best. Forget movie night. With Tim and Little D at each other's throats, it wouldn't have taken much for Jason to join in the fray and turn the whole thing into the Wayne Family Fight Night.
The kitchen was deserted, meaning that Alfred was probably helping Bruce separate the two idiots. Shrugging, Dick smiled at the photographer and invited him to sit at the kitchen table.
"This is our lucky day, Simon. Without Generalissimo Alfred in the kitchen that means we have full run of the normally off-limits facilities." Grinning conspiratorially, Dick began opening and closing the kitchen cabinets in rapid succession. At last he found the hidden treasure—the cookie jar! It was carefully placed on the topmost shelf of the exceedingly high cabinets.
Dick tsked to himself. "How careless of Alfred to leave that tempting treasure chest out in the open like that."
"Out in the open?" Simon protested. "That thing's so high up, it'll take a mid-size ladder to reach it."
"Ladder?" Dick protested. "I'll have you know, sir, that I find that highly insulting." Giving the man a mock frown, he explained, "When you're a Flying Grayson, you don't need no stinking ladders!"
With that, the lone Flying Grayson, vaulted easily onto the immaculate kitchen countertop, and then with a single graceful leap, he reached his hands out and grabbed the cookie jar. Target acquired, he landed nimbly back on the countertop, and elegantly stepped off to alight soft as a feather on the tiled floor.
Simon gaped at the impromptu display of graceful skill. If he had known that Richard Grayson-Wayne, new head of the WayneTech sub-division, was about to execute such fluid movements before him, more reminiscent of a professional dancer than that of a young executive at Wayne Industries, he would never have left his camera equipment back in the study.
He groaned. "A chance of a lifetime dumped on my lap, and I'm sitting here without even a disposable camera." He covered his eyes, feeling a headache coming on.
Looking at him with sympathy, Dick said, "Here…have a cookie." Eyes crinkling in amusement, Dick pushed a plateful of cookies toward Simon and handed him a glass of milk. "Go on…Alfred made them just this morning. That's why they were on the top shelf." He grinned in fond memory. "He's been trying to hide them from me since the first day I stepped inside Wayne Manor."
"Has he ever succeeded?" Simon asked curiously. He took an experimental bite, and as he chewed, his eyes widened in pleasure.
Dick gave him a knowing look and a smirk that plainly said, Told ya! In answer to Simon's question, he said, "Nah…I think he just does it to make it more of a challenge. And he knows I love to climb things. So, it's kind of a game between us, I guess."
"You climb things?" Simon asked, not sure what the younger man meant.
Dick gave him a D'uh! look. "Former Flying Grayson, remember?"
"I see…" And he did. Just about everyone who lived in Gotham City was familiar with the story of the child acrobat who had been adopted by Bruce Wayne. Simon was beginning to really like this unassuming, young man. He was the newest head of one of the most important subsidiaries of a Fortune 500 company, but carried himself as just a regular guy. "And what of now?" Simon asked.
Dick sighed. "Things change. I'm a Grayson-Wayne now." He smiled a bit pensively.
Dick thought of just how much his life had changed since that dreadful night in the circus. He suddenly realized that Bruce had been his father for more years than his own dad. He'd only had his parents for eight short years.
Dick had turned twenty-one this year, which meant that Bruce had been his father for thirteen years, five more than his real dad. No, Bruce might be painfully inept in the whole emotions department, but he was Dick's real dad in every sense of the word. (Except in their DNA, as Damian loved to point out.)
A polite throat being cleared brought him back to the present.
"Master Richard, Mr. O'Day…Master Wayne is ready for you in the study." Alfred gave the purloined cookies a cursory glance. He flicked his eyes back to Dick. A slight eyebrow twitch told Dick all he needed to know: He was officially in Alfred's doghouse.
"Um…Alfred? Simon here and I just enjoyed a snack of your delicious chocolate chip cookies. You've really outdone yourself this time, Alf!" Dick laid the charm a bit thickly and gave Alfred his best wide-eyed smile.
"Mr. Pennyworth, that's true," Simon agreed eagerly. "I don't know when I've had better tasting chocolate chip cookies. Um…maybe I'd better not tell that to my wife."
Alfred smiled at Simon. "Thank you, Mr. O'Day. If you wish, I can have some ready for you to take home to your family. I shall even include the recipe."
Simon smiled his thanks. "I know my wife will really appreciate it. Thank you!"
The rest of the portrait sitting passed without incident, much to Dick's amazement. He couldn't help wondering just what Bruce had said or done to the two reluctant siblings. Of course, it was always possible that he'd replaced them with pod-people and hidden the real boys somewhere in the nether regions of the Cave.
No matter. The deed was done. The portrait had been taken and would soon take its honored place among the rest of the Waynes, immortalizing this dysfunctional generation for years to come.
Perhaps now, with just the right amount of coaxing, Dick might yet talk Bruce into staying in tonight for Family Movie Night…
As Simon was putting away his equipment, he addressed Bruce. "Mr. Wayne, I'm afraid that I won't be able to do the photo shoot at Wayne Industries tomorrow. I have another commitment—my older daughter's wedding."
Bruce glared at the photographer. He understood; he really he did, but he was still a businessman, and O'Day Gallery had a contract with his company. "Mr. O'Day, this portrait sitting of Richard and me has been on the calendar for well over a month. It would be a great inconvenience to have to reschedule it."
"Oh, come on, Bruce. It's his daughter's wedding!" Dick protested. "You're not gonna be an old Grinch and force him to miss that are you? I don't mind. And anyway, what's the use having some silly portrait of us hanging in the entrance foyer at work? It's not as if our employees don't know who we are."
"Dick, you know why it's important. We've already discussed this. Even if we have to reschedule, you are not getting out of it!"
Crossing his arms petulantly, Dick made a face.
"Oh, yes, that's very mature, Grayson," Damian grumbled. "Father was just extolling your virtues to us, by placing you on a pedestal of what he considers age-appropriate behavior."
"Say, what?" Confused, Dick looked at Damian and then at Tim.
"Yeah…what he said," Tim agreed. He jerked his thumb in Damian's direction.
Dick rolled his eyes. Of course, the two siblings from Hell never agreed on anything except to gang up on him—the only guy who tried to get along with either of them.
"Mr. Wayne," Simon broke in, "you don't understand. We don't need to reschedule. My assistant will do the shoot. And don't worry…she's one of the best up-and-coming young photographers in the business. She's even won a couple awards for her work. Anyway, she recently moved to Gotham City and hopes to set up her own studio. I'm lucky to have her, even if it's only temporary."
Bruce nodded. "Very well then. We'll expect her tomorrow at the appointed time. Thank you, Mr. O'Day. And congratulations on your daughter's upcoming wedding."
"Thank you, sir." He shook hands with Bruce and then turned to Dick. "Dick, thanks for the milk and cookies."
~ / ~ / ~ / ~
Photo Shoot: Part II
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The next morning flew by. Dick mainlined caffeine as he stood, hunched over the drafting table, perusing the designs for several of the newest Wayne Tech gadgets that were still in the planning stage. He spent the greater part of the morning scrutinizing one schematic in particular.
The design specs for the WT-3D—not only the latest in Wayne Tech personal tablets, but also the first in the tech industry with 3D/holographic capability—had given him a headache for a couple hours. He finally managed to track the problem down, and annoyed at the computation errors he'd found, he wrote several marginal notes and corrections.
Where did some of these engineers get their degrees, he wondered. If he'd forgotten to transpose his variables when he'd interned under Lucius Fox, the head of Research and Development would have promptly fired him—boss's son or no.
He straightened up and stretched. This was the third time in the past month that the design team headed by Noah Kuttler had made such blatant mathematical errors. If Dick hadn't caught them, the mistakes could have resulted not only in serious design flaws, but would have also proven costly further down the line.
Kuttler was no ingénue. He'd worked at other companies before being hired by WayneTech and had come highly recommended, which was why he was heading the WT-3D design team.
Ironically, his fellow engineers referred to him as the human calculator, because of his ability to solve complex math problems in his head. Which was fine as far as it went. But this wasn't some kind of geek fraternity of one-upmanship. Kuttler was a professional engineer and he had an obligation to check his design team's math before he submitted the work up the chain for approval.
I guess I'll have to call him in. Again. Better me than Lucius…or worse—Bruce. Neither man suffered fools gladly. No, Kuttler was a member of Dick's department, so it was his responsibility to talk to him. Hopefully, that's all that'll be needed. This time. He really hated this part of the job.
His intercom buzzed. "Mr. Grayson, Mr. Wayne wishes to remind you of your 1:30 appointment in his office."
Dick groaned. He'd actually forgotten about the photo shoot. "Thanks, Jenna. Let the big boss know I'll be there in a few." Dick finished his design reviews, along with his comments and recommendations, and returned them to the appropriate folders.
He made his way to his private lavatory to freshen up and make himself presentable for the camera. He ran a comb through his unruly hair and shrugged. Nothing short of a ton of hair gel would tame that wild mane. Heaven knows, his mom and later Alfred had tried often enough before finally throwing in the towel.
Besides, the girls sure seem to like it. That is, when they weren't checking out another part of his anatomy.
He straightened his tie, unrolled his sleeves and replaced his monogrammed, 14-carat gold cufflinks—a twenty-first birthday gift from Bruce. Carefully removing his dark suit jacket from the small closet, he put it on and adjusted it until it hung properly.
Posing in front of the mirror, Dick recalled Gotham Gertie's latest claim that he looked like a younger—and much better looking—version of Bruce Wayne.
He shook his head in amusement. It always ignited Damian's explosive temper and shot it into the stratosphere when people assumed that Dick was Bruce's biological son, while Damian was adopted.
He checked his watch—1:20. He had ten minutes to make to Bruce's office, just enough time to navigate the multi-story labyrinth known as Wayne Towers. Maybe he'd be able to talk Bruce into having lunch with him after the photo shoot. They worked in the same building, and yet, they didn't seem to see each other any more often than when he lived in Bludhaven.
Well, Bruce Wayne was a busy man. He hadn't exaggerated when he'd told Simon that rescheduling the photo shoot would be a huge inconvenience. Bruce's daily calendar was filled from the moment he stepped through the doors to the minute he walked out. He had meetings, phone calls, ribbon cuttings, media interviews… You name it; Bruce Wayne was in demand for it. Dick wondered whether the big boss did in fact eat lunch.
Hmm…maybe I'd better talk to Maggie about re-arranging his noon schedule. Alfred won't like it if he finds out that Bruce is skipping lunch…
With these thoughts bouncing through the back of his mind, Dick grabbed the folders that held the design specs and stepped out of his private office. "Jenna, I'm done with these. Could you see that they're returned to the design teams? Oh, and could you please inform Mr. Kuttler that I'd like to see him today. I think I have some time open sometime after 3:15."
"Yes, Mr. Grayson."
Dick took the private elevator to the Wayne Industries Executive Offices. He caught Maggie's eye, who nodded at him to go on in. Smiling his patented Grayson grin (with just a touch of Wayne for good measure), he poked his head inside Bruce's door.
"Hey, boss? You called?"
"Dick, come on in. You're right on time. Have a seat. The photographer had to step out for a minute. She had to retrieve something else from her car."
"Good, then we have a few minutes. How about lunch after? Do you realize that I've been working here for almost six months, and I can count the number times we've had lunch together on one hand and have four fingers left over?"
Bruce leaned back and smiled. "I'm sorry, Dick. I know that things get hectic around here, and we tend to forget to make time for each other." He held up his finger. "Hold on a minute." He pressed his intercom button. "Maggie?"
"Yes, Mr. Wayne."
"Maggie, can you please pencil Dick in at noon every Tuesday for lunch?"
"Of course, sir. Noon on Tuesdays—lunch with Mr. Grayson."
"Thank you, Maggie." Smiling a bit smugly, he turned to Dick. "There, it's good to be boss."
"I'll do the same with Jenna. I guess that's the best way to do it, otherwise the day tends to just get away from us."
A light knocking on the door brought a halt to their conversation. Dick rolled his eyes. Another couple of hours of his life was about to be wasted. Worse, he had to sit still, something that he never quite mastered as a child—even as Robin on a stakeout. Oh, well, better to get it over with.
Bruce motioned Dick to remain seated while he answered the door. Dick's back was to it, so when a very familiar voice spoke, he froze, thinking that he had imagined it.
"I'm so sorry about that, Mr. Wayne. But better to start a few minutes behind schedule than have to stop the whole shoot when I discover I'm missing a vital piece of equipment."
"That's quite all right, Ms. Troy. No harm done." Leading her into his office, he spoke to the back of Dick's head. "I believe, Ms. Troy, that you are already acquainted with my son, Richard Grayson-Wayne." He smiled in smug satisfaction as Dick slowly stood and finally turned to face them.
Taking out his cell phone, Bruce snapped a photo while they were preoccupied. They'll thank me later, he thought by way of excuse. Seeing the look on the two young people's faces, Bruce decided that three was a crowd and quietly excused himself. He doubted if they were even aware he'd left…
Dick stared at her for what seemed an eternity. Donna did the same. Of course, she had known what she was doing when Simon told her about the contract O'Day Gallery had with Wayne Industries and the conflict with is daughter's upcoming wedding. As soon as Simon told her that they were to photograph Bruce Wayne and his eldest son, Richard—the new head of WayneTech—Donna knew that fate had somehow intervened in her life again. She had been given the perfect opportunity to make amends and she had intended to make full use of it.
"Dick." She smiled, nervously pushing a lock of hair behind her ear. "You look—" Handsome, wonderful, fantastic. "—good."
Dick smiled back just as nervously. "And you look—" As beautiful as ever. "—good, too." They continued to stare at each other for a moment longer, the silence stretching out between them. When Dick finally attempted to speak, he stumbled over his own tongue.
"I'm glad…I mean, it's good…" He closed his eyes in frustration. "What I want to say is…D—"
The door burst open, and to Dick's shock Noah Kuttler rushed in brandishing a gun. Instinctively, Dick immediately shoved Donna behind him, acting as a shield between her and Kuttler.
"Grayson! You've made a fool of me for the last time. " Kuttler didn't take the time to aim. He simply pointed the gun in Dick's general direction and fired.
At the same time, Dick felt himself being thrown clear across the room. Only his Bat training and acrobatics saved him from slamming into the wall. He twisted and righted himself in midair and landed safely in crouch. As he did, he heard the gun go off twice more, but each time, the sharp reports were accompanied by the unique and wonderful sound of bullets striking and ricocheting off a pair of Amazon bracelets.
"I do not know who you are, but I do not appreciate anyone shooting at my friends." Donna stood tall between the gunman and Dick. Dick watched in awe as she continued to go up against Kuttler in a dangerous game of bullets and bracelets. "If you know what's good for you," she said with deadly calm, "you will stop this foolishness."
"Get out of my way! I'm not afraid of you!" Kuttler shouted, spittle spewing out of his mouth.
"It is not I whom you should fear," Donna said ominously. At her words, Dick looked behind Kuttler and smirked, and then cringed as Bruce slammed into Kuttler, tackling him to the floor. Dick immediately sprang forward and kicked the gun from the crazed engineer's hand.
Infuriated, the so-called Human Calculator made as if to lunge at Dick again, but Bruce punched him—once, twice, three times—in rapid succession. As he did, Bruce's deep bass growl punctuated each hit: "I…hate…guns!" Standing over the now unconscious gunman, he added. "And by the way…you're fired."
When the security team finally arrived, Bruce said, "Take the garbage out and make sure the GCPD knows the emergency is over."
~ / ~ / ~
Sitting out on the patio balcony of the Wayne Towers private penthouse apartment, Dick looked across at Donna as she poured carefully from the teapot. She held her hand over the milk and sugar and looked at him questioningly. At his nod she added both to his tea and passed it to him.
"Thank you," he murmured. So far neither had spoken much about the attempted assassination, nor about the past three years. In fact, as he took a sip from his hot tea, he watched her assessingly, knowing her studied movements were but delaying actions. He sat back and waited patiently, giving her the time she needed.
After security had hauled Kuttler away, Dick had escorted his oldest and dearest friend up here to his personal quarters. He had moved in shortly after he had started working at WayneTech. But what should have been a temporary stay had stretched out to become a permanent arrangement.
Tim and Damian liked it, often crashing on weekends after a long night's patrol. Damian generally grumbled that the penthouse should be his, though what the ten-year-old thought he'd be able to do with it was probably left unasked. Tim was at least good for a pancake breakfast and a decently brewed pot of coffee the morning following an overnight stay.
Jason also stopped by uninvited on occasion, long enough for a quick nap and a shower, often eating Dick's leftover pizza and drinking his beer, and being sure to be gone by first light. Afterward, Dick always checked the premises with a fine-toothed comb for any hidden booby-traps. So far he had found a couple that had been only half-heartedly set by Jason—more to show that he could, rather than to cause any real hurt or damage.
Dick sighed. What a family.
Still, as far as having run of the penthouse apartment—not withstanding his brothers' intrusion on his privacy—Dick admitted that the added perks of not having to tackle a morning commute, plus being able to literally roll out of bed in the mornings and make his way to his office in less than fifteen minutes were too good to give up.
Damn Bruce and his wonderfully expensive and luxurious toys. They've spoiled me... He's spoiled me. Independence and that rat hole of an apartment I left back in Bludhaven just don't compare.
Had he a given up and given in, he wondered? Or, had he simply grown up and accepted his fate? It was hard to tell the difference sometimes.
I'll always be a Flying Grayson, but as a Grayson-Wayne I have different responsibilities and different goals. Bruce gave me a father when I didn't think I'd ever want another. I owe him more than I can ever say. Agreeing to take over the reins at Wayne Tech is just one way that I choose to honor him. And Nightwing helps me honor all three of my parents, by working to seek justice for all.
Studying Donna over his teacup, he wondered what was going on in her head. He'd lost track of her for almost a year after she had left for Themyscira. Then two years ago, he found out that she had left her island home on a personal, globe-spanning quest.
Happy that she had returned to "Man's World," Dick had followed her free-lance photojournalist career from the sidelines, admiring her artistic eye and the stark realism of her work. The other Titans kept him apprised of her wellbeing on occasion, but sadly she had never asked about him, nor given them a message to pass on.
It had been three years of living in limbo, wondering if she would ever come back and speak to him, possibly even forgive him for ruining her wedding day. But, he had known that Donna needed her space, and thus, he never pressured the other Titans to break her confidences, nor attempted in all that time to contact her.
Three years ago when she had ordered him to get out, Dick had believed that when Donna was ready to talk, she would come to him.
He guessed that time had finally come. Taking a deep breath, he broke the silence.
"Bullets and bracelets… and being thrown up against a wall? Seemed just like old times." Dick was referring to the times his normally even-tempered friend would reach the end of her rope with one or all of the male Titans and literally haul them up and throw them against a wall.
He smiled gently as she finally looked up, her expression one of a deer caught in headlights. He reached his hand across the table and placed it gently over hers. "You don't know how much I've missed you, D."
At the use of his special term of endearment for her, Donna couldn't help the tears from starting. At their first sign, Dick stood and walked quickly around the table, reaching for her. Donna naturally flew into his outstretched arms.
"Oh, Dick, I've been so miserable," she sobbed. "I've missed you so much. I'm so sorry. Can you ever forgive me?"
"Shhhh…Donna, there's nothing to forgive. I knew that what I was going to tell you that day would hurt you, but I told you anyway. If there's anyone who should ask forgiveness, it's me." He held her for a long moment, a feeling of warmth spreading throughout. "I'm so glad you came back to me, D. The world has been a very cold and lonely place without you."
"Dick, it feels as if I've known and loved you my whole life. I've been such a fool. I was hurt and angry over the things you said about Terry—that he had started dating me only because he wanted to use me as a primary source for his dissertation on ancient civilizations. And that he asked me to marry him because he wanted to show me off to his thirty-something male buddies as the ultimate trophy wife—a real-live Amazon princess."
Stepping back, she held on to his hands while gazing into his eyes. "After you left, I couldn't go downstairs and confront him. I sent Kori to get him and bring him to me. I told him what you'd told me. He tried to deny it at first, but eventually, he admitted that it was true. He then tried to convince me that he might have felt that way at first, but that things were different, that he really loved me." She closed her eyes and swallowed.
"When I told him that I couldn't marry him after all, he became angry and threatened to expose all of our secret identities to the media. He especially threatened you and your family, saying that you were the ones with the most to lose and were the most vulnerable since you had no superpowers." She looked stricken at the betrayal of the man that she had thought she loved and had loved her. Closing her eyes, she bowed her head in shame.
"I asked Raven to make him forget. Not our engagement or the main parts, but any knowledge of our identities. Anything that could come back and harm us… harm you." She looked ready to collapse from the weight of her guilt, so Dick picked her up and carried her inside, setting her down on the luxurious leather sofa.
"Oh, Dick…what I did to you, to him." She shook her head in shame. "I returned to Themyscira and went into seclusion for several weeks. I meditated and prayed to our gods for some sign…for guidance to help get my head on straight again. Finally, after receiving no help from that quarter, I returned to my mother's palace." Donna smiled fondly in remembrance.
"Mother spent many a day with me, just talking about nothing and everything. We took long walks together along the shores of our Paradise Island. Diana made several trips home, and she too spent many a long afternoon and evening in my company." She faced Dick finally.
"The gods had sent me guidance, after all, in the form of my dearest mother and sister. For when it comes to matters of love, it is only right that a woman turn to the very women that she holds closest to her heart."
Dick nodded solemnly. "I find that when I'm in the same situation, talking to Bruce and my brothers helps me a lot, too."
Smiling in relief, she said, "Really?" A suspicious rumbling coming from deep within his chest answered her question. She slapped him lightly on the arm in exasperation. "Oh, you! I'm being serious here." She laughed as he held his arm in mock hurt, making silly faces and moaning as if in pain. It felt good to laugh again, she realized.
She was about to let him have it for real, but Dick caught her by the wrist, his entire manner changed. He was no longer laughing or teasing. "D, I'm happy that your mom and sister were able to help you when you needed someone. I'm only sorry that I'm the reason you were so unhappy in the first place."
"No, Dick, you weren't the reason for my unhappiness. I did that all to myself. You were being a friend, a good friend…my best friend. I didn't want to listen. What's worse, I knew deep inside that what you were saying was the truth. Almost since we started dating, Terry had been asking me casual questions about my culture. I'd tell him stories about the Greek gods and heroes, and he'd listen attentively until well into the early hours of the morning. I thought he was just being a good listener, interested in me and who I was. Well, his interests were more selfish. I was his one-way ticket to a completed doctoral dissertation and early tenure."
"I'm sorry, D. You didn't deserve that. Your first love should not have been such a selfish, unfeeling bastard."
"Dick, you're wrong. My first love is none of those things. No, my first and true love is brave, unselfish, and utterly kind. He was raised in the shadow of the Bat, but his soul is pure and shines the brightest." As she spoke, her soft voice caressed his senses and he fell under her bewitching spell.
Bright, sapphire blue eyes captured his dark blue ones. Dick momentarily forgot how to breathe, so caught up was he with how her dark eyelashes framed her wide eyes. In the back of his mind, he unconsciously took note of her perfect nose, damask cheeks, and heart-shaped face. Leaning toward him until she was less than a hair's breadth away, she smiled shyly and leaned in.
As her rose-petal lips were but a mere breath away, Dick finally succumbed to the deep yearnings that he had been suppressing for years. He pulled her gently into his arms and kissed her. When they finally had to come up for air, he smiled down at her. His dark blue eyes showing all the love that he felt for her at that moment and for all time…
~ /~ /~ /~
Wedding Day: Epilogue
~ /~ /~ /~
A few months later, as she waited in the bride's changing room, Donna showed Diana, her sister and maid of honor, her new heart-shaped gold locket, a gift from her father-in-law-to-be. She opened the locket and smiled at the miniature of a snapshot Bruce had taken of Dick and her that day in his office. In it they only had eyes for each other, and their faces were lit with identical smiles.
Who wouldn't fall in love with that strength and that smile? She asked rhetorically.
The knock at the door announced the arrival of her escort. Diana opened the door to reveal Alfred Pennyworth standing there, looking regal as always. He nodded at Diana and Donna.
"Miss Prince, Miss Troy…there can be no greater beauty on the face of this earth, than that which shines from your heart." Taking Donna's hand in his, he leaned down and elegantly kissed hand. "Today, you have made an old man very happy and a not quite so old father very proud. Thank you, my dear, from the both of us for helping our dear boy's own light shine with an even greater brightness than before." He smiled slyly at Diana. "And if I may be so bold, Miss Prince, the Cave always has room for one more, especially one as lovely as yourself."
Diana smiled. "Thank you, Alfred. I'll be sure to keep that in mind."
He glanced at his pocket watch. "I believe ladies that it is time. Miss Prince, if you will." Nodding, Diana pecked Donna on the cheek—mindful of her makeup—and headed out the door to take her place at the top of the Wayne Manor grand staircase. Her arrival would signal the music and guests that the ceremony was about to begin.
As Alfred turned to Donna and offered her his arm, she leaned in and kissed him on the cheek as well. "Before we go, Alfred, I just wanted to say that I am so happy and so proud that you agreed to escort me down the aisle today. I wouldn't dream of anyone else."
"Indeed not, Miss. Indeed not." Patting her gently on the hand, he turned his head slightly when they heard the beginning strains of the wedding march. Smiling at her, he said solemnly, "I believe that is our cue. Let us go forth and get you married."
Smiling radiantly, the bride stepped off, knowing that her groom—her best friend, confidant, and her anchor—awaited her at the altar…
Standing at the altar, Dick looked up. His heart caught in his throat as Donna's eyes fell on his. He gasped as a hard jab to the ribs from Bruce, his Best Man, jolted him back to reality and served as reminder to breathe.
From somewhere to Bruce's left, Dick's three brothers stood as his groomsmen. Naturally, they each had something helpful to say for the occasion.
Damian: "What could she possibly see in Grayson, anyway?"
Tim: "Probably his rear assets."
Jason: "Not his brains, anyway."
"One more remark from the three of you," Bruce threatened in a low undertone, "and you'll be washing all the windows in the manor and all the cars until Alfred grows tired."
Dick smiled up Bruce, who leaned in and whispered, "You're fortunate that she's already spoken for; otherwise, I might have carried her off on my own. I hope you know what a remarkably lucky young man you are, son."
Unable to take his eyes off his bride, Dick thought over Bruce's words. Fate had brought Dick and Donna together as children. Circumstances and misunderstandings had torn them apart. Thankfully, their love drew them back together and allowed them a second chance.
Fate. Circumstance. Chance. Luck.
Taking Donna's hand in his, Dick pledged silently that he wouldn't squander this opportunity at love and happiness. Looking in her eyes and seeing his love being reflected back, Dick felt the rightness of the moment and knew that for whatever reason, they were meant to be.
~/ ~ / ~
Somewhere out of time, Dr. Fate sensed the powerful forces of Order at work as the multiverse righted itself… for the moment.
The End
~ / ~ / ~ / ~
Author's Note: I got an idea for a Dick/Donna story about a year ago and wrote the first scene of them as children playing and arguing in the Watchtower. It's languished on the backburner since then.
A few weeks ago, a vague plot that utilized the multiverse as a backdrop to show Dick and Donna's growing and ever changing relationship began to take form. Of course, when I first started this, I didn't realize just how difficult it would be to wrap my head around Donna's crazy background story. I figure that this little tale is but one small piece of her infinite lives in the multiverse. I can only that hope you've enjoyed the result.
Thanks to all for reading! And for those of you who took the time to review—a special thank you. And Happy Valentine's Day.
Acknowledgements: Some dialogue and story ideas borrowed from the following: The New Teen Titans #38; Tales of the Teen Titans #50; Titans/Young Justice: Graduation Day #1-3; The Return of Donna Troy #1-4; Blackest Night: Batman #1-3; Justice League of America #41; Flashpoint: Deadman and the Flying Graysons #1-3; The New 52: Batman and Robin #10
Copyright: February 2013