-Front Page Tragedy

And when is there time to remember, to sift, to weigh, to estimate, to total? -Tillie Olsen

Flashes, dozens of them perhaps more burst to life at seemingly random intervals. Lightly his fingernails clawed into the podium, the neatly stacked speech waiting expectantly. Dick had tried to look his best, wild hair tamed, and a name brand suit Alfred had been proud of. But under all of Gotham's scrutiny he felt incredibly small and…guilty. Who was he to take away the city's prince and secret protector, who was he to cast them all back into the grip of vice and villainy that both Bruce and Batman had struggled to pull them out of? It felt wrong with all of those eyes on him, piercingly curious.

Bruce should have been standing up here, on the front steps to the company his father had established, and he nurtured. He'd done it once before, when Jason had— Dick still couldn't force the thought out. Couldn't force himself to relive the cowl captured video of his brother's lifeless, beaten body. That's why his father had done it, given the speech on these marble steps and erected the costume case memorial. Jason's memory and the lesson it had taught was never allowed to leave the man, not as Bruce nor Batman.

Why should his cross be any easier to bear? Dick had already decided it shouldn't be, he and he alone would carry the brunt of his mentor's final message. None of them were immortal. Not as Robin or Nightwing, or even as the Batman.

Swallowing past the painful lump that had lodged itself tightly in his throat, Dick tapped the microphone and lifted his gaze to the crowd. The chatter died away, recorders thrust outward to the fullest extent of each reporters arm. However it wasn't their impatience that finally propelled him to speak, but the lowered (or in Jason's case glaring) gaze of his brothers behind him.

"Ladies and Gentlemen of Gotham, I Richard Grayson-Wayne stand before you to make the first and only announcement on the topic of Bruce Wayne's untimely and unfortunate passing." A gasp rippled through the crowd, followed swiftly by a demanding silence. "As you may or may not have known, our father had been away earlier this week on a trip to Colorado. He was evaluating the progress of Wayne Enterprise's joint ventures with Queen Industries' local branch. On a whim he attempted a newly uncovered ski trail with longtime friend Oliver Queen. On the afternoon of Tuesday, the eighteenth of February an avalanche consumed the mountainside. Mr. Queen was thankfully rescued, but worsening weather delayed searches for Bruce. When the blizzard had cleared, only a shattered ski set and abandoned backpack were found. We now presume…I'm sorry."

Dick wiped at a few trickling tears, unsure of how genuine they were. The lies left a bitter taste in his mouth, but the story had to be delivered with the air of a trauma stricken child. It wasn't something he had to work at faking.

"We now presume Bruce Wayne, dead."

Click. Click, click.

It would be tomorrow's headline, a front page tragedy.

He felt more than saw his brother's converge on him, each sniffling or at the very least teary eyed for the cameras snapping to life all around them. Dick thought it almost comical how their cleverly executed charade had managed to bring them together. Lesser known members of the JLA had posed as rescuers and ski resort employees, giving forged testimony and actually causing a contained avalanche for physical evidence. Oliver played the part, posing for pictures as he entered the hospital with on job injuries that could pass for avalanche inflicted.

It was all very uniting, somewhat hilarious, and a complete lie.

Only the grief stricken faces of the public kept Dick from laughing outwardly about the thought that a little slide of snow could take down Bruce. They all seemed to buy it though, hook, line and sinker. Perhaps they'd all played the part of devastated family too well, after all Clark was down front sobbing into Lois' shoulder.

"His wake and private funeral services will be held this afternoon. But Bruce would not want Gotham to grieve over him. He would want you, his fellow citizens to act in his memory for a better and brighter Gotham. All Wayne funding in use and pledged for future use will be upheld, the charitable nature of our father's company continuing just as he'd wish. Thank you."

Stepping back from the podium, Dick allowed himself to be ushered away alongside his family. Together they piled into the black limo in which they had arrived. Once all pretenses had been dropped, and the cameras out of sight the mood turned solemn once more. It was a silent ride back to the manor; Damian curled into Dick's side while Tim and Jason attempted to be civil in one another's company.

Dick was grateful for the effort.

In his mind time was slayed by the hands of a clock, time was dead as long as the little hands kept slicing away at it. Without a clock in sight Dick felt time really come to life. It pulsed by with each throb of his still healing injuries, paused in time to the skipping of his heart as memories danced in an out of focus. Judging from the distance in Tim's and Jason's eyes he would guess them as lost as he.

But Damian, the youngest of them all had his eyes squeezed shut, braced against the world. And Dick could only wonder what Damian would have to remember, if he had anything at all. Were all of his memories tainted by the presence of cape and cowl, had Bruce ever shown his biological son the amount of compassion that had at one time or another been given to him, Jason, and Tim?

Threading soft black locks through his calloused fingers, Dick did not miss the sideways glance Jason threw at him; he just didn't care to acknowledge it.

"We're home baby bird."

"Dad used to call me that." Damian's whisper carried through the limo. His words drew a smile from them all, Jason included, even if it was tinged with a slight jealousy.

Maybe just maybe Dick thought, there was hope for them yet.

AN: Really just a bit of filler to lead into zee funeral and will reading. A thank you goes out to all of you awesome reviewers, I promise the next chapter will have a bit more action to it. :)