A/N: Update time! Woot!
Anyways, I don't really have much to say about this chapter...It's lots of dialogue, poorish grammar at points, maybe some OOCness for a few of the tougher characters to write, language...Not much happening, but it had to be done.
Next chapter is the one I've been super eager for! So, be prepared!
I own absolutely nothing.
Review Responses:
ShadowCatAlex: I'm glad you're warming up to the insane AU I'm creating because I'm pretty sure it's only going to get more AU as the story progresses. I'm also pleased that you like Jason being all brotherly, personally when I read things when that happens I can't help but smile. Your note/opinion was highly helpful too. It didn't occur to me how depressed Tim would be if his hero died! Big ,big oops on my part. You're super long review was awesome by the way.
purpleykt: Thank you for the wondrous review! I put some thought into whether or not Damien should be added, but I chose not to. It's not that I don't like the kid, but I don't think he'd fit in. Maybe some point in the (distant) future he'll pop up, but as of now I don't intend on adding him.
kuromi123: It most definately is Tim! How could I possibly type a story involving DC heroes without adding the character who got me interested with them in the first place? Thanks for being in love with the story! Also, it's a bit of a spoiler, but Nightwing won't make an appearance until the last chapter. Why? I decided to do a sequel ^^
ashkim: You had about a week to wait patiently, and I shall reward your patience with this chapter (although the next one is going to be significantly better) and a smiley... :D Anyway, I have no idea what that was about, but thank you for reviewing! And you guessed correctly, it's going to be quite some time before Dick is found out.
Ch. 5- Discussions
"Discussion is an exchange of knowledge; argument an exchange of ignorance."
― Robert Quillen
Alfred Pennyworth had been working with the Waynes for generations. He'd seen them grow up, he'd seen them die. Bruce Wayne, the only Wayne he'd basically raised, was similar to the previous Waynes in many ways. He was charming, he was slick, and he was smart. He also took the Wayne determination to a new extreme. Which was why the good butler was entirely unsurprised when he found Bruce sitting behind the Batcomputer…again. He appeared to be reevaluating the evidence found at Dick's crime scene...again.
Don't get him wrong, when he'd heard of the Young Master's death via an apologetic phone call three days prior, Alfred had been heartbroken. Richard had been the light that the dreary mansion had so desperately required. The news of his demise left the poor Bat Butler with a gaping hole in his heart, a hole that nothing could fill. Not even Bruce.
Bruce, Bruce, Bruce. The man who'd lost his parents. The man who'd lost his eldest son…twice depending on one's perspective. The man who'd now just lost his only remaining son. The man who now was going to be doted upon endlessly by a grief stricken butler because ―by God― he refused to let the Wayne heir work himself to death.
"Master Bruce," Alfred said after a few minutes, "I must insist you stop this and attend to Bruce Wayne business. The press is expecting a date for the young Master's funeral, you have missed four business calls, and the meal I graciously made for your supper is getting cold."
Bruce rubbed his blood shot eyes. His cowl was down revealing to the butler just how worn out the other man was. "There's something I'm missing Alfred. I know it. He can't just be gone without there being a body," Bruce said.
"You know as well as I that the river is said to have washed it away."
"It just makes no sense. Dick wouldn't fall like that, and despite his anger, I know he wouldn't jump."
"Are you suspecting he was pushed off of the wall?"
"No. Dick wouldn't have let that happen. Nothing seems to be fitting together."
"Perhaps nothing makes sense because there is nothing to make sense of."
"He's not gone Alfred. There has to be something I'm missing…"
Alfred sighed, "Master Bruce, you and I both saw the evidence. You even went to the scene and found nothing to contradict the findings. There is no fault on this case. You are not missing anything."
"That's just it, the evidence is too air tight." Bruce was grasping at straws, Alfred could tell.
"Maybe the reason it is too air tight is because it's what actually happened. There is nothing to find out. All of this searching is going to turn up cold Master Bruce. You must understand that."
"You think I haven't thought of that!?" Bruce shouted, abruptly standing up and spinning to face the elderly butler, "You think I haven't considered that I may have lost another son!?"
"Do not raise your voice with me Master Bruce," Alfred said evenly, "You are not the only one in this room who has lost someone very dear to them."
Silence ascended over the Cave, the two men staring the other down. Finally, it was Bruce who looked away. Nobody can match Alfred's glare, not even Batman. Where do you think the Dark Knight learned it? Not from Ra's al Ghul that's for sure.
"Come along Master Bruce," Alfred spoke up, "You are in need of a break."
This time, Bruce obeyed without a complaint. Alfred may not be showing his grief, but that didn't mean the elderly man didn't have any, and if his way of coping was coddling Bruce, then so be it. Bruce wasn't going to be as selfish as he'd been the last time. He'd just return to the Cave after eating because no matter how much the evidence pointed otherwise, Bruce's gut said something fishy was up.
And typically his gut was right.
"Tim, I'm going out of town. The maids will be here if you need anything," Jack Drake called somberly from somewhere downstairs. He hated having to leave so soon after his son's idol passed on.
From his room where he'd been playing Tetris on his computer Tim shouted back, "How long do you think you'll be gone?"
"One week. I'll be back late next Friday; don't get into any trouble while I'm gone."
"Because I normally do?" Tim questioned with a hint of sarcasm, he frowned when his Tetris piece didn't fit anywhere.
"Call me if Bruce releases the date of..." Jack trailed off, unable to finish.
Tim sighed, pushing back the wrenching that the thought of Dick's funeral gave his emotions. "I will dad…" the boy responded. His voice may or may not have shaken a bit.
"Bye Tim, I love you."
"Love you too!"
When sound of a door closing reached his ears, Tim shut down his game. He knew his dad would be going away soon. The man typically went away at least once every month, if not more. The Drakes were in the same social circle as Bruce Wayne, hence their mansion. Unfortunately, maintaining their level of wealth required Jack to travel constantly. Tim was used to it by now; he had twelve years of practice behind him after all.
Normally, when his father left Tim would feel some type of sadness or anger, but not this time. This time, Tim was eagerly awaiting his father's departure. Why the change of attitude? Tim was going to confront the Batman, and he didn't know how long it'd take…or if he'd get maimed.
Tim wasn't afraid of the Batman, it's not like he'd done anything wrong. It's just that he was BATMAN! Nobody could predict him, minus the whole no killing thing, and that's what made him such a good hero. That and his detective skills. His amazing tech helped too. And Tim bet that the mad fighting skills were useful to have… He was stalling.
He wondered if Dick would've done the same thing…
Before he started procrastinating anymore, the twelve year old walked over to his closet and tied on a pair of sneakers. After sticking his cell phone into his jeans pocket, Tim ran down the stairs yelling out a quick, "I'm going out for a few hours!" to the maids before rushing out the front door before anyone could ask him any questions.
Arriving at his neighbor's front gate, Tim couldn't help but wonder how he'd get to the front door. Bruce probably had loads of security and it's not like Tim could just ask them nicely over the intercom near the gate to let him in…Well, he could try…
Walking over to the button, the boy mustered all of the courage he had and pushed it. A small buzz sounded from the speaker, but nothing else happened. Well that was a bust, he thought. Just to be thorough, Tim proceeded to push the button in rapid succession about thirty more times before giving up. They must be in the Batcave. For some reason that thought excited Tim. Then again, anyone would be excited if they knew how close they were to the epicenter of all that is computer tech. Or, at least, anyone who was interested in that sort of thing would be excited.
He wondered what Dick would do…
With a sigh, Tim pulled out his cell phone and yanked the front of the intercom box out so that the cords were showing. Hooking his cell phone up to the gate was a relatively simple task to accomplish; cracking the access codes to open the gate was a whole other matter. Normally Tim's program designed for this sort of thing would've worked, but it seemed that Mr. Wayne had planned ahead and set up a trick code. A trick code that Tim's program fell for. The poor boy could only stare in horror as his beloved cell started to smoke and the screen turned black.
By the time he got his phone disconnected, it was dead. That particular hack was definitely the work of Dick. Tim would bet a thousand dollars that Grayson had designed at least half of the security surrounding the mansion.
"That happened to me too the first time I tried," a female voice suddenly spoke up. Turning towards the speaker, Tim saw a young, familiar, red-headed girl.
"Barbara?" Tim choked out in surprise.
"Yeah, and you're Tim," the girl stated, normally a smile would've made its way to her face by now, but considering that Dick had only been dead for a few days her darker attitude was understandable. "I found that it usually helps to call ahead," she waved her phone in the younger boy's face.
"I probably should've thought of that one."
"So what are you doing here?" As Barbara voiced her question, the giant gate opened up letting the two kids in…most likely due to the fact that it was time for the girl's prescheduled visit.
"Well," Tim started as they began their walk down the long driveway, "Would you believe me if I said I came to have a nice neighborly chat with Mr. Wayne?"
"Not in the slightest."
"Drat. Fine, I'm here to…discuss certain…er…issues and worries I have involving what happened to Dick."
Barbara winced at the mention of her deceased friend, "What about Dick?" she asked.
Heaving a heavy sigh, Tim decided that he should let Barbara in on his little secret. She deserved to know, with how close she was to Dick and all. "Okay, what I'm about to tell you is secret, understand? You can't even tell your dad," Tim said seriously.
He wondered if Dick would've told…
Looking concerned, the red-head nodded, "Sure, I won't say a word to anyone."
"Alright. So, awhile back I discovered something about Mr. Wayne…something nobody would expect. I discovered that Bruce Wayne is Batman."
Tim waited with bated breath for the girl next to him to react. When nothing happened, the twelve year old turned towards the older girl to see her wearing a small smirk, her eyes shining with a mixture of shock and amusement.
"You don't say?" she questioned.
"I do say. And Dick was Robin too!" Tim defended; the girl was clearly humoring him.
The mention of Dick once again sobered Barbara's mood. Tim knew that on the day Dick's death was announced, Barbara had visited Wayne Manor in tears. He didn't know much about what happened after that, but he knew that she most definitely hadn't left through the front gate, unless…
Tim looked at Barbara and gasped. She fit the description perfectly! How could he have not seen it before!?
He wondered if Dick would've figured it out sooner…
"You're Batgirl!"
"You know kid, most people would find you taking out your anger on that dough a bit unhealthy," Jason said casually as he strolled into the kitchen of the apartment.
The kid in question just grunted in reply as he once again punched the unfortunate blob of dough that at some point should resemble a pizza crust.
The older boy looked at the recipe the younger one was supposed to be following for their homemade dinner, "You do realize that this says roll the dough, not pound it."
Through gritted teeth, Dick stated, "No rolling pin."
"And mutilating it is the next best thing?"
"Seemed like a good idea at the time."
Jason simply nodded his head and watched his "brother" beat the dough senseless. The two ex-Wayne wards had opted for an early dinner so that the Red Hood could attend some function or another. So far in their time together, meals consisted of TV dinners and take-out. Unfortunately, they'd run out of their supply of make-shift meals, and they hadn't yet found a new place for take-out (Jason had managed to get them banned from their usual place by cussing out their delivery boy for not giving him his change the previous evening…the change was only a penny). With all of these factors, Dick was the poor soul who ended up getting roped into cooking. He'd made the mistake of mentioning that Alfred had been teaching him some tricks when it came to food preparation. One such trick involved not blowing up the kitchen, something Jason hadn't yet learned.
As he watched Dick smother sauce on the pizza (which looked like an explosion as opposed to the normal circle) Jason couldn't help but notice the boy's frustration. Something had ticked off the bird, and now that he really thought about it, Jason noted that the kid had even woken up in a sour mood. Being the man he was, Jason had no idea how to comfort a young teenage boy. So he opted to continue watching as the pizza was shoved brutally into the oven.
Dick let out an angry sigh, "Quit staring!" he snapped, sending the older boy a glare.
Gaping, Jason's almost concern turned to an anger that matched Dick's. No way in hell was he going to let his upstart punk ass younger brother(ish) figure talk to him like that! He was the goddamn Red Hood!
"Well, excuse me for caring!" Jason yelled.
"I don't need your care!"
"I was talking about the pizza; I gotta eat it you know!"
"It's edible so you don't need to worry!"
"It looks like shit!"
"Then make your own next time!"
"What the hell is your problem today!? Break your favorite stuffed animal!? Suck it up and stop acting like a fucking child!"
"I'm not the only one acting like a child!"
"What's that supposed mean!?"
"You're still ticked at Bruce for not doing what you wanted and killing the Joker! Get over it! And look around! Guess what? You're not dead anymore! Move on with your life for the love of God! You're whole business exists because you're too immature to find something better to do!"
"YOU DON'T KNOW WHAT IT'S LIKE TO DIE! You don't know how it feels to be replaced! You know why? You're the fucking replacement! You've never been yanked from the afterlife and slammed back onto this shithole of a planet! You know NOTHING!"
Seething with rage, Jason stared down Dick. The younger boy met his gaze for five seconds before looking towards the ground in defeat.
"I know," the shame in Dick's voice was evident.
"Whoa, whoa, whoa! Hold up a minute…What?" Jason asked, shocked by the sudden turn of events.
"I-I don't know anything. When I left, I felt so sure of myself. I felt as though I wasn't getting the respect I deserved, and leaving was for the best. I never expected things to go so far…I never would have guessed that Dick Grayson would have to die so I could get my freedom."
"Then why did you kill yourself, figuratively of course, instead of running back to Daddy Bats?"
"I thought I could handle everything myself. I figured, what's Blüdhaven compared to Gotham? Blüdhaven doesn't have any insane villains… Then I went out last night while you were gone."
"…Shit," Jason whispered the word so that Dick wouldn't hear. The older boy knew a lot about Blüdhaven and he'd wanted to ease Dick into the ways of the city. That's mainly why he hadn't let him go when he'd asked earlier (not that he cared for the little twerp). Apparently the kid hadn't been patient enough. Dumbass.
"I thought I planned everything out perfectly. I never expected the bad guys of this city to be the people themselves. I never expected them to be that horrible either. Gotham is child's play compared to this place. I'm in way over my head here. I'm sorry that I took it out on you Jay. It's just…I was so frustrated. How can I protect a city from itself?"
"Your problem is that you're a straight up hero."
Now it was Dick's turn to be shocked, "What?"
"Before Batsy came along, Gotham was all doom and gloom. It needed a goody goody cape and cowl to save it from its baddies, to be its hope. Blüdhaven's a different story. The people here do what's necessary to survive, even if it means crossing some legal lines. Not all of the crime here is because of psychos and self-absorbed bastards, some crimes are done by good people in bad situations. A full out cape and cowl, like what you've been trained to be, would cause more harm than good, especially with the corrupted cops all over the place. Blüdhaven needs a hero that understands what they're going through, who can see the grey area. You've been sheltered Dickie, and in this place…that's the last thing the people need their hero to be."
"Then…What should I do? I mean, something is telling me that I have to save Blüdhaven. I can't just…leave… "
"You still wanna protect this hellhole? After I just told you you're not the right hero?"
"Yeah, I do. I kind of think that I want to protect Blüdhaven more so now than ever! Jay, there are good people here, and if what you say is true, they need hope. If the sense of justice Batman has taught me won't work here, I need to learn what will. What do you think I'll need so that I can be the hero this place needs?"
"Experience."
Dick opened his mouth to object, but the more he thought about it, the more he realized that experience was the only thing that would help him. This was about his mentality now; no amount of training could make him truly understand Blüdhaven. He'd have to learn as he went along. So, instead of complaining about the vague answer, Dick ran into his brother and hugged him.
"Thanks Jay."
Jason was stunned for a moment. For ages he lived without caring for others, and here he was, suddenly feeling all giddy inside that he'd helped his parasitic little brother. This was disastrous for his anti-hero rep! Even worse, he didn't seem to care! It felt surprisingly good for the nineteen year old to finally have someone hug him. Shit! Jason was silently thankful (like, immensely thankful) that there weren't any telepaths around to hear his corny thoughts, or he'd probably die. With a smile, Jason hugged Dick back.
"No prob punk," Jason said, then after regaining his senses, he pushed the kid away, and pulled out his gun in a threatening gesture, "If you want to keep breathing, never, ever, mention this incident to anyone. Ever. Got it?"
Dick smiled, "Got it."
"Good. Now, about you're funeral. I'm thinking about crashing it. After all, what kind of estranged brother would I be if I didn't make an appearance," Jason put his gun away as he changed the topic.
"Not a very good one. I bet Bruce will get a kick out of seeing you."
"And Clark."
"And Barry."
"Barry's a Flash, he won't notice anything."
"Well, how about Ollie and Dinah."
"Oh God, I hope Dinah doesn't see me."
Both boys laughed as a casual feeling fell over the apartment for the first time since they moved into it. Both of them were finally at ease with each other. They were, after all, brothers by all but blood. Not that they were ready to admit it.
"No."
"Why not?"
"I said so."
"Pleeeeeeeeeease?"
"No."
"I won't break anything!"
"Doesn't matter."
Alfred and Barbara watched as Tim and Bruce continued their bickering. After Tim had figured out who Barbara was, the girl had literally dragged the kid into the mansion and threw him onto a chair in the study before gathering up the two residents of said mansion. The girl quickly explained that Tim knew everything and handed the boy's fate over to Bruce. Of course, this led to a long lecture about secret keeping, why Batman existed, the creation of Robin, and other fun tales that Tim eagerly listened to, while Barbara tried not to fall asleep. When Bruce was finished and asked Tim if he understood everything, the kid had nodded and then asked the question behind the bickering. He'd asked if he could see the infamous Batcave.
"I'll do anything!"
"I'm not changing my mind."
"It's not like anything bad will happen if I go!"
Barbara looked over at Alfred when she heard a quiet chuckling. Catching the look, the elderly butler just smiled sadly and said, "Their arguing reminds me of many of Master Bruce and Master Dick's spats. The young Master would always win in the end."
"His puppy dog eyes and crocodile tears," Barbara reminisced with a smirk, "He told me that he managed to get something he wanted from everyone in the League at least once. He even got some Oreos from J'onn one time. He was so proud of himself when he told me that story."
"I'll pay you!" Tim was offering when the two onlookers ended their conversation.
In response to the bribe, Bruce just stared at the kid with a raised eyebrow. Did he, Bruce Wayne, Gotham's richest resident, look like he needed to get paid?
"Master Bruce," Alfred stepped in, "Seeing as the child has already figured us out, I see no harm in letting him view the Cave. Miss Gordon and I will gladly give him a condensed tour."
Bruce sighed, he wasn't about to argue with Alfred, "Don't touch anything," was all he said before walking off. Probably to eat the now cold meal Alfred had told him about earlier.
Tim smiled as he excitedly followed Alfred and Barbara towards the grandfather clock.
He, Timothy Drake, was going to be the first person not involved with the hero world allowed into the Batcave.
He wondered if Dick would be proud…
A/N: As I said, nothing much happens in this chapter. NEXT CHAPTER THINGS ACTUALLY DO HAPPEN!
Examples: Intro of new Robin, Deathstroke is back, more Roy.
Reviews are welcome, as is constructive criticism, so yeah...
Thanks for reading!