Forever Robin
By
AJ
Part 3
"Bruce, what happened?"
"Help me out of this . . . Death trap."
Dick did as Bruce asked, helping him to climb out of . . . his grave. "Looks like whoever did this wanted everyone to believe you died, and if it hadn't been for that note you left me under the bust on your desk I wouldn't have known about you being alive still. I thought I was going to be solving your murder."
"You may yet get that chance," Bruce said. 'No one is to know I'm alive, yet."
"Alfred," Dick said as they climbed out of the whole and saw the old man sitting on the ground staring into space.
Bruce and Dick moved over to the elderly butler and gently set him on his feet. "He's in shock. We better get him inside."
Bruce started to assist Alfred when his knees buckled under him. "You better help him, Dick. I'll follow. After you take care of Alfred you better cover up that grave."
Dick followed Bruce's instructions, though he also wanted to keep a watchful eye on his father. Bruce nearly died for real and all because he hadn't recognized soon enough that someone had set a trap.
After getting Alfred back to the Manor and to his room, Dick went back to check on Bruce. He was still kneeling in the grass at the entrance to the family cemetery.
"Bruce, are you all right?"
"I'm . . . I'm all right, old Chum. Just a bit shaken up."
"Let me help you," Dick said. "The grave can wait. Lean on me."
Bruce nodded and allowed Dick Grayson to support him for a change.
'He's really shaken up," Dick thought. 'I've never seen him like this. I guess that's what happens when you've been buried alive.'
Dick helped Bruce back to the house and up to his room, helping him to his bed.
"I'll be back, Bruce."
Dick watched as Bruce slowly swung his feet onto the bed and laid on his left side. He was reluctant to leave his father. Bruce was always a strong person. He faced danger head on, but this . . . this was more frightening than any thing he had faced. Before leaving, Dick checked the digital clocks again. Just as mysteriously as they had stopped they started again. He still didn't have answers for the former question when another one cropped up. What caused the clocks to continue their forward movement?
Dick went back to the cemetery. He jumped back into the hole to stare at the now empty casket. Before closing the lid, something caught his eye. It was Bruce's watch. The strap had been broken, as if it had been snapped off with great force. The watch was very special. It had been a gift from an anonymous admirer. Bruce hadn't worn it until . . . three days ago. Had Bruce tried to remove it as well? Was there something about this watch that . . . that what? He was fumbling for answers . . . Bruce was a little better at being the detective, even after all these years. Dick was good at solving riddles and even puzzles, but this . . .
"Maybe I'm trying too hard. Bruce has often accused me of doing just that. I need to trust my instincts more. After all, this is just another type of puzzle. And I've been solving such puzzles since I was 12 years old. Right now, I wish I were that age again. Things were far simpler back then." Dick thought, staring down at the watch in his hand. For now, he put the watch in his pocket and proceeded to finish what he started, the burying of Bruce's empty casket.
When Dick returned, Bruce was asleep and Alfred was puttering in the kitchen. Dick learned over the years that it was his way to deal with shock and the unexpected. There had been many unexpected moments over the years, from Dick Grayson becoming Bruce's ward and living at the Manor to Jason Todd being adopted. And then there was Tim Drake, another who became his brother after the death of his parents, then finally, Damian, Bruce's biological son after a fashion. And if anyone wanted to know the nature of his creation and birth, they would have to break into the bat cave's computers. As if that was ever going to happen.
"Alfred," Dick came over to place a reassuring hand on the old man's shoulder. "I know it's quite a shock. Even I believed he died at first. It would seem that someone wanted to show him that someone could get to him."
"Master Dick," Alfred said. "Never have I felt so afraid as I did today. I am relieved that Master Bruce is alive, but at what cost?"
"What do you mean?"
"Remember the last time?" Alfred questioned.
"Yeah, the year from hell," Dick recalled and then the subsequent years after. Bruce had been missing, and Dick had to step in, becoming Batman in order so no one would know that the real Batman was missing. 'Real, as if I was a fake. Technically, I was, but . . . I had to do my best. It was difficult trying to fill such big shoes. Gordon suspected something was different, but before he could do anything about it, Bruce came back. Things were still rough for a while, but we managed. I was never so glad to see him return.' And then things took another bad turn, but always something would pull them together. "He did come back to us," Dick said. "He wasn't dead the way everyone thought. He was missing in time."
"This time, we buried him," Alfred said, with deep pain in his eyes, not fully acknowledging Dick's words.
'He's blaming himself,' Dick realized then let the thoughts go and changed the subject. "We still don't know who is responsible. Bruce believed I would find out, and I intend to."
Dick pushed himself away from the counter he had been leaning on, then walked out of the kitchen. He really wasn't sure what he was going to do. Moving though gave him a means to think. Perhaps a workout was needed. Dick walked over to the old grandfather clock and turned the hands till they were pointing straight up. He took the stairs to the bat cave, choosing to go this route than down the bat poles in the study. He wasn't in much of a hurry right now. He just needed a place to think. And he knew just the place to do his thinking. Looking up, Dick saw the old trapeze set that Bruce had installed soon after he arrived at Wayne Manor. It was a piece of home, a bittersweet piece, but a piece just the same.
Thinking of that time brought all the memories back. Pop Haly, Elinore the elephant, and his parents. They were all long gone, but they were no further than his thoughts. Time, it would seem was a reoccurring theme on this wild journey. Time and clocks. Clocks? No, it couldn't be. They hadn't dealt with him in years. For all they knew, he probably wasn't even alive.
'Looks like I better check with Blackgate Prison or was it Gotham State Pen.' Dick crossed over to the computer to check on one particular prisoner. No, it couldn't be him and yet . . . Something like this would be his moniker. But if it wasn't him, who was it?
Continues With Part 4