Title: La Tortura

Disclaimer: I do not own DC Comics or any of their characters.

Un-betaed version. If you notice any mistakes, please email or pm me. Thanks.

Thanks for all the reviews and the support! Sorry this chapter took a little while to get out – been a little under the weather and not in the mood to write. But it looks like I'm back!

Not sure how I did with Dick, but I tried!

"Ay amor fue una tortura…" – Shakira

He saw the smile that graced her face and wondered what she was thinking about, lost in her own world. No matter, there were moments now where all he needed was her smile – not that he would tell her that, of course. There was something in that smile that set a part him free, something in that smile that said this was a woman of hope and faith, a woman who wouldn't back down from fighting for the ideals and people she believed in, a woman who was now firmly stood at his side, even if the entire world wasn't aware of their arrangement.

He knew.

She knew. There were others, of course, but he knew what really mattered was the two of them understanding and encouraging what lay between them, allowing it the chance to grow. Once, he wouldn't have been able to name it love, but there was something in that smile that had given him the strength to reach for the stars and give them both the words that they had needed.

Looking into his memories of the past, he realized that it was more than just her smile, more than just Diana herself that had forced him into realizing that the first requirement of the mission was not to be alone; it was to protect. And it had taken someone who understood him and the workings of his brain in order to make him realize that – it had taken Dick.

Flashback

"There is no us, Princess," he bit out, turning smoothly on one heel to look at her, blue eyes cold and passionless. "There's the mission and that's all. There's no room in my life for anything else. Not you, not anyone else." His voice rang clearly through the room and she felt his words batter at her heart, at the emotions that had filled her soul tonight. As joy deflated in her heart, she realized that she had tried, but that tonight had served little purpose other than to hurt her and to reinforce Bruce's need to be only the Batman.

Suddenly, it seemed that there was little she could do to convince him otherwise. She could only be herself and love him and those things apparently weren't enough to allow her into his life. Keeping her face steady and her body language calm, she said softly, "Now I know."

They'd needed more than a chance, she decided, watching his proud figure as he retreated, never looking back, no hesitation in his body; they'd needed faith, trust, and maybe even a miracle.

--VvV—

Apparently miracles had been in short supply as of late.

In the weeks following the botched dinner date, Bruce huddled in the cave, trying desperately not to think about all that had done before as he sunk further and further into the personality and mindset of the Bat, as he struggled to rid Diana from his memory banks – the sweetness of her kiss, the softness of her touch, and the loveliness of her smile.

It seemed that no matter what he did, no matter how much he buried himself in his work, spending countless hours in Gotham patrolling and keeping watch, he couldn't seem to get her out of his mind. She was lodged in there firmly and much as he tried desperately to force her from that perch inside his brain, she stayed there, beautiful and full of that same grace and wit that he had always admired.

He had always been a little in love with the princess, he could admit that to himself now. There was something about Diana that made everyone she met fall in love with her just a little and he had proved to be no exception to that rule. But he had never expected that his feelings would start to grow until they pervaded his life, his thoughts, and he would never have believed it possible that the Amazon princess would return his feelings, would find comfort and solace and even happiness in his arms.

That night by the fire had been one of the simplest and best evenings he had ever spent with a woman, just snuggling by the fire, sharing the heat of their bodies and kisses that had seemed to sear his souls.

So, of course, he had done what he always did when things started to heat up – he had pushed her away. And those same reasons for which he had pushed her away were still prevalent, he tried to tell himself as he sat in his computer chair, hands steepled and mind weary. The mission would always come first, he knew that. The mission was what drove him everyday in order to save others from the same fate as himself, to bring back his parents in the only way he knew how.

If he had someone special in his life, that mission would take a backseat to them, of that he was sure. And if the splinters of doubt in his mind tried to tell him otherwise, tried to tell him that Diana was a part of that same mission as a whole, devoted to the same things as he was, that she too was busy with her own work as an ambassador and peace keeper, well, he was determined to push those thoughts out of his head and focus on the present and the city of Gotham, just as he always had.

Hearing the sound of footsteps coming down the stairs from the Manor, he turned slowly to see who was interrupted his solitude and who would dare try to talk to him when he was in this mood. A man appeared out of the shadows, the lines of his face a little haggard and drawn, the body looking lithe and muscled, as it always did, but there was a sense of emaciation about him as well. The hair, normally short and casually chopped, was now a little long and unruly, as if he hadn't found either the time or the inclination for a cut in some time. His eyes, usually lit with a teasing twinkle, appeared dull and listless and something in Bruce's throat seized at the appearance of the son, at the obvious sadness that hung around Dick like a cloak.

He had seen his son a few weeks ago, just before he had pushed Diana out of his life, but he hadn't realized that Dick was tottering on the edge of depression like this, that the teasing son that he had known was now almost a waif, sad and lean. It hurt his heart to see his son like this, but he wasn't sure what to do, what to say, how to comfort Dick. He'd never been any good at that and usually, at the first sign of intimacy with another person, he pushed them away.

Just like he'd pushed Diana away.

Hesitantly, he said, "It's good to see you, Dick." His son was out of costume, dressed in civilian garb, hair presumably a little mussed and flattened from the ride over here. He watched as his son pulled over a chair and sunk into it, elbows resting on his knees and he laid his face in his hands, staring ahead at the computer.

"Alfred told me you were down here," Dick answered, crossing his feet at the ankles and leaning back in the chair with a little sigh. "Working on anything interesting?"

Somehow, it always came down to work between them, as if they couldn't bring themselves to talk about anything else, anything that came a little closer to the heart of one another. Bruce knew that he hadn't been a good parent to Dick, that he had let the death of his own parents let him become something that had changed him – he had become the Bat. He had repressed his emotions, pushing them deep so that no one could ever hurt or harm him the way that the loss of those two people had.

And then he'd allowed Dick into his life. He'd never regretted that move, but he regretted his treatment of the boy at times. He was proud of the man that his adopted son had become, but somehow, he'd never been able to find the words to tell Dick that he cared, that he was proud of him, that he wished they could have had normal lives and normal relationships.

Even now, as the words bubbled about his mind, he kept them inside and did what any other parent would have done – worried about his son.

"A possible robbery at Gotham National next week. I've heard rumors that it might be an inside job. Working on who's behind it," Bruce stated in a deep voice, all the while looking over at his listless son, wondering if he dared to ask. That was normally Alfred's job, to find out what was wrong with Dick or Tim and report back to Bruce, whether Bruce wanted to hear it or not. In truth, Alfred had been the father of the entire household and Bruce often worried that he wasn't up to the task, even now. Especially now.

He'd ruined so many good things and people in his life because of his mission. He'd tossed Diana out, been utterly careless of her feelings, and he'd never been the kind of man that he should have been to Dick. He could analyze a crime, determine its culprit, the reason behind it, everything about it, but add in an emotional factor and Bruce simply shut down.

Perhaps it was time he opened up a bit. He'd never been there for Dick and maybe it was time to start, to become the kind of parent he should have been, regardless of how long ago his son had left the nest.

"Dick," he began, rubbing the back of his neck in a sign of weariness and nerves that he didn't often let escape, "I don't like to pry, but…is something wrong?"

Uncrossing his legs, Dick turned to look at Bruce, an incredulous expression on his face. "I don't think you've ever asked me that before."

"I haven't been the best father figure, Dick, I know that. And…I'm sorry for it. I lost something when my parents died, Dick, and I couldn't figure out how to give you what you needed, to be who you needed me to be."

"I think that's the longest sentence I've ever heard from you, Bruce," Dick answered, a teasing glint back in his eyes.

Giving his adopted son a hard glance, he replied, his voice softer than his usual harsh tones, "I have regrets about a lot of things, Dick, and the way I've treated you is one of them."

"How do you move past those regrets?" Dick asked quietly, sneaking a glance at Bruce as he ran his fingers through his tousled hair.

"Some things you can't," Bruce answered, thinking about Diana's smile, about how cruelly and insensitively he had treated her that night. He turned to look at his son and a fresh flood of regrets filled him that he hadn't been able to be the parent that Dick had needed, that he had let his own missions and needs get in the way of his son's.

"And some things," he continued, "you have to put in the past and try to change now."

"What if it's too late?" Dick said, his eyes wet and wild as they met Bruce's. And somehow, Bruce knew that Dick wasn't referring to their situation but to something else, most likely whatever had been keeping him from eating properly and had apparently brought him here today. And no matter what hard words had been between Bruce and Dick before, today was changing all that, today was bringing about something new, even if it was only little steps on their road to recovering the relationship they should have had.

Bruce turned his chair towards Dick. He couldn't reach out, he wasn't sure that either of them was ready for that kind of connection, but he could forge one of eyes, of visual contact. "Tell me what's wrong," he stated, his voice gravelly and deep, but soft as he faced his son.

"I miss Donna," Dick replied softly. "She was one of my best friends and things aren't the same without her. And now I realize that…"

And recognizing that look of sadness and despair on his son's face, Bruce realized what the problem was. Apparently he had given his son the trait of pushing people into certain roles – he himself had made Diana into a friend and nothing more and now he wasn't even sure that they would be friends anymore. And it looked like Dick had done the same thing with Donna – had decided that she would be a friend, that there was no romantic interest between them.

Looks like he'd been wrong.

"That maybe your feelings for Donna ran deeper than you'd thought?" Bruce asked quietly. Seeing the look of surprise on his son's face, Bruce self-mockingly answered, "You're not the only one, son."

"You care for Diana?" Dick asked in shock. "She told me that she was in love with you, but I never imagined that you would allow yourself to return those feelings."

In a rare moment of honesty, of bonding with his son, Bruce answered, "I'm not sure that I allowed anything, Dick. She's there, inside me, forcing me to face those feelings. And I…I pushed her away."

He watched as Dick shook his head, "Why am I not surprised?" Standing, he walked a few steps, staring at the computer screen for a few moments before continuing, "I've learned something, Bruce, during my time away from here. I've learned that the mission isn't the only important thing in my life, that I have friends and people who are very important to me."

Turning to face Bruce, he ran a hand through his hair and said quietly, "And now I've lost one of those people and I'll never get to tell her, never get to see that smile again or listen to her laugh. You spoke earlier of regrets, Bruce, and Donna's my regret. If I can say anything to you now, it's that Diana loves you. Do you want to wake up one morning and realize that you can never see her again? That the one person who brought hope and faith into your life is gone?" His shoulders shook with rage at the thought of never seeing Donna again and Dick's voice began to quake, filled with emotion.

"Don't regret that you let her out of your life. You need someone like her, Bruce, someone to remind you about the lighter side of the world and who will work beside you, who will understand what you do and why you do it. Don't toss her aside, Bruce."

And with a slight smile playing at his lips, Bruce asked, "When did you get to be so wise?"

He didn't want to think about Dick's words right now, didn't want to examine their significance and face that his son was right – he didn't want to live with this regret or without Diana.

"Been spending a lot of time with Alfred lately, "Dick answered, a smile finally lighting his face and the twinkle coming back into his eyes. "Speaking of which, how about some lunch?"

Bruce looked over at the computer screen, at the work that he'd been engrossed in until Dick's arrival and then glanced at Dick's face, much happier now than when he'd first walked into the Bat-cave. And for once, he put aside the mission and the past to focus on the present.

"Sounds good."

Next chapter: Coming soon…

To Reviewer T – Apparently I enjoy writing interrupted dates. I see to do it often enough. It's still really difficult to keep these characters in character, but I also enjoy the challenge and in this story, they seem to flow fairly well. I enjoy it so much too. So, are you still on holiday or is it over and done with now? I am definitely not an early bird so much as a night owl. I love sleeping late and honestly, I just love to sleep!