Title: The Monsters and The Weak

Chapter Four

Summary: Bruce Wayne and Officer Dick Grayson are tied up together in a warehouse in Bludhaven as hostages. As negotiations heat up, Bruce learns the horrifying truth of what his son does as an officer of the law.

Author's Note: Thank you ALL for your kind reviews, for following me, for favoriting me, for begging me to update. You all inspired me. I'm glad you like the story thus far! This chapter was a bit hard to write, I tried to picture how they would feel after going through that tough ordeal, and I felt like Dick's emotions would overwhelm him, because he no longer had the strength to hold up his wall. They are human, and I feel that this is how they would react. I feel like it's a bit OOC, but the reaction felt right to me. This is a story about fathers and sons. I truly hoped this ending spoke to you and fits. I struggled on it for weeks.

Disclaimer: I don't own Batman, Nightwing, or other DC characters.

"Long ago we realized we can't possibly solve all the world's problems. And maybe we shouldn't even try. We understood that we needed to develop our hearts and minds and not just our fighting skills. With all the good that needs to be done, it was impossible to accept that nobody should ever do what we do 24/7. That way lies madness. Trust me, I know. If you come to believe you're a god and you fail, where does that leave you?"

- Dick Grayson (as Nightwing)

Cian shifted under Bruce's unrelenting stare. He chuckled uneasily. "Uh, you look like you've seen a ghost."

Bruce flinched. "What in hell? Does Dick know you're alive? Do you have any idea what you've put my son through?"

"Bruce," Gordon's voice carried an edge of warning.

Bruce inhaled a deep breath, trying to calm his boiling rage.

"Dick knows," Gordon said. "It was his idea."

"To get kidnapped and shot?"

"He knew the consequences. Hell, Cian warned Dick more than once. He wouldn't listen to reason."

"Mr. Wayne, sir..." Cian said. He shifted in his seat again and lowered his head. "Dick saved my life. He gave a fresh start."

"Explain," Bruce ordered. "Now."

"Hot chocolate," Cian blurted out.

Bruce's furrowed his brows. That made no sense. Was it some type of code between him and Gordon, or Dick?

Cian laughed at Bruce's expression and somehow it gave the kid courage to continue: "I used to help my dad with the business by selling drugs and connecting with his partners on the corner of Avalon Hill Street, right under Little Drawbridge. When Dick first started patrolling, he would stop by, offer me hot chocolate, and sit there for fifteen minutes without saying a word. I would taunt him and pour out the hot chocolate or discard it."

Cian grew quiet. He twirled his thumbs around each other on his lap.

"One day, he didn't come with hot chocolate. It was a newspaper article and some pictures..." Cian shut his eyes. "It was one of my regulars. His kids somehow gotten into his drug stash, and it was a bad strain of it and they..."

Bruce winced. He'd seen drug overdose in children in Gotham far too often. There were lesser cases of that over the years, but it still happened.

Cian opened his eyes. "Dick said that I helped put those drugs out there. I was an accomplice in their deaths. Intentional or not. He asked if that was the world I wanted to create. If that was the man I wanted to be, to make a profit for myself, damned the consequences." The thumbs twirling stopped. "I tried to ignore it. But I kept the pictures of their bodies, I kept looking at them...I talked to my father about it once. You want to know what he said? 'A damn shame'."

The hot anger in Bruce's stomach coiled tighter.

"Dick stopped coming around and I found another regular. Three more, actually. I don't know what happened, one day, somebody recalled reading about those kids. And you know what I had to say about it?"

Bruce shook his head.

Cian chuckled. "I said, 'Oh, it was a damn shame'. Hearing me say that was a wake-up call. I hunted Dick down. I caught him patrolling the usual spots, when I got into his car to talk to him..." Cian smiled. "He had a fresh cup of hot chocolate waiting for me. Smug bastard."

Bruce mirrored Cian's expression. Dick was a good people reader. It took time to built Dick's trust, yet once you had it, Dick was the most loyal man on your side.

Cian continued on, telling Bruce of how dangerous it would be to leave the family business. His mother tried once. Her father was beaten within an inch of his life and Andrews would threaten to do it once again if she did. Andrews didn't take well to disappointments, and to those who tried to leave.

"So, Dick came up with a plan," Cian said.

Bruce glanced at Gordon who turned his vehicle onto another street. "You were a part of it."

"Now you are too," Jim said.

Why hadn't Dick called him? Why hadn't Dick asked Bruce, or Batman, to be a part of it? He could have come up with a better plan than involving Dick supposedly killing Cian and sending the rage of a mafia upon him.

He clenched his jaw. He had to lecture Dick about this later, let him know that he shouldn't endanger his life so carelessly like this!

Bruce inhaled a sharp breath. "When Dick became an officer, I knew there would be dangers...but..."

"You should be damn proud of your boy," Jim snapped.

Bruce blinked, surprised by the hostility in Jim's voice. Where had that come from? What did he say wrong?

"Do you even know..." Jim hissed through his teeth and stared at the rearview mirror at Cian. The knuckles around the steering wheel tightened. His jaw clenched.

Bruce watched him gather his emotions.

Finally, Jim said, "Do you remember a conversation we had together once a few years ago, when Dick once said that we couldn't possibly solve all Gotham's problems?"

Bruce searched through his memories, through the Thanksgiving and get-togethers he and Dick had with Jim Gordon, and sometimes with his daughter, Barbara. He couldn't recollect a time where Dick would've brought that statement up, not...

Bruce froze.

Dick had said that to Gordon.

As Nightwing.

When he, Batman, and Gordon were huddled together around the Bat-Signal.

How...

Jim smirked and cocked a brow at him. "Did you forget that I am a detective as well?"

Bruce chuckled. He always suspected that Jim might've known the truth.

"Dick also knew that he couldn't save all of Bludhaven's problems. He said that he didn't want to lose himself in that madness to purge the darkness out of the world."

Bruce remembered. Batman and Nightwing had gotten in a bit of an argument in front of Gordon during a case. It was not their finest moment, and Jim Gordon was surprised to see the rife between them.

"What did he tell you?" Jim said. "Come on, I know you remember."

"He wanted to work hard to save the heart of the people, to develop and strengthen his own heart. Because even if the darkness still strived, at least he could keep the light beating and shining in this world."

"I didn't know adults were capable of cliché and deep conversations," Cian muttered.

"Can you handle it?" Gordon teased.

Bruce noticed they pulled up toward the hospital and Gordon drove around, searching for a parking spot.

Gordon cleared his throat. "Bruce, I know you're scared of losing Dick, of the constant dangers he puts himself in, but remember, he's not you."

He's not Batman, Bruce heard Jim's unspoken words.

"I don't want him to become me, I think that's why..." Why I pushed him away. Why I hurt him. I'm so terrified that I may have to end up burying him. If I push him away now, if I build up a barrier, it wouldn't hurt when it happens.

Bruce thought of Dick in the hospital now. He'd come so close to losing his son.

No.

That wasn't true.

He lost Dick a long time ago, because he forced his son out of his life.

"Anyway," Jim said as he parked the car. "You should be thanking Cian. If it weren't for his help, we never would've been able to pinpoint which of the wharfs Andrews was holding Dick at."

Bruce shook his head as it dawned upon him. "The trace couldn't be narrowed down to a specific location, could it? Only a general area."

"We would've had eight wharfs to search, and if we entered the wrong one, Andrews would've gotten an alert that we were coming and moved Dick again."

Bruce glanced back at the teen in the back who stared at his hands folded upon his lap, fiddling with his thumbs.

"Thank you, Cian."

Cian shrugged. "It was the least I could do. He saved my life."

Bruce and Jim found Amy in the hospital waiting room. They'd left Cian in the car.

Amy had a plastic cup of coffee in her hand. She rose to her feet upon their arrival.

"Commissioner Gordon. Mr. Wayne," Amy greeted.

"No need to be so formal," Jim said. "How's Dick doing?"

Bruce and Jim sat down in their own seat across from Amy.

"He's in surgery now," Amy said. She stared at Bruce. "How are you doing?"

"Shaken up, but I'm fine," Bruce said. "Did they say..."

"Does he need to be checked out?" Amy asked Gordon. "Dick said Bruce might pull something like this."

Gordon chuckled. "I had a doctor check him out before we found you. A little roughed up, but he's good."

Bruce glanced between the two, miffed that they were worrying over him when Dick was the one in surgery.

Calm down, Bruce, a voice that sounded like Dick's echoed in his mind, they know I'm going to be pissed if they didn't check out for your well-being.

He sighed and glanced down at his outfit. Blood stained his pants and shirt...his son's. He had washed his hands earlier, and even still, Dick's blood had dried in the creases of Bruce's fingernails.

He couldn't help but feel responsible for the blood that ended up on his hands.

"Bruce, Dick is a fighter, he'll pull through," Amy said softly.

"I pushed him away," Bruce said. "I...I wonder if he did all of this for my attention, to prove..."

Amy's free hand gripped one of Bruce's. "You and I both know that Dick's stupid heart got him here. The lives of others has always been above his own. Maybe he felt like he had to prove something, but this...getting shot and protecting you...it wasn't your fault. It was Dick's decision."

"You can hate it, but respect it, Bruce," Gordon said.

His throat worked. "Amy, did anything else happen to him when I was dragged out?"

Amy took a sip of her coffee. "He took a couple more beatings."

"What did they..."
"He's safe, Bruce. Instead of worrying what happened, why don't you worry about how you're going to take care of him and help him heal when he gets out of the surgery?"

Bruce then noticed that Amy had a bandage on her inner elbow as if she gave blood. He gestured to it.

She shrugged. "I may not be of the same blood type, but I couldn't do nothing. There are officers lined up on the fourth floor to donate their own blood for Dick. Maybe you should do the same."

He chuckled. "Dick is a universal recipient. He can accept any pretty much any blood type."

"Well, than I can tease him for being infected with my blood," Amy said.

Bruce smiled and took her advice. He and Gordon headed down to the fourth floor. When he stepped off the elevator, his jaw nearly dropped as he saw a long line from the doorway at the other end of the hallway. It wasn't only Bludhaven officers. Bruce noticed a few of Gotham's.

As Nightwing, Dick inspired nearly every caped-figure and hero to follow him and listen to him.

As Officer Grayson, Dick inspired officers to donate blood for cause because Dick had gotten hurt in the line of duty.

Dick may not solve all of the world's problems, but his heart shined through the darkness and beat strongly within all those he touched.

No. Please. Don't do this.

A cruel laughter echoed around him, chilling Dick to the core. He was chained to the vast darkness, he couldn't see where the chains hooked, but they kept him locked in place.

You will never escape me, Andrews' voice whispered, crawling goosebumps up Dick's spine.

A finger trailed down Dick's arm and down his back, toward...

No! Somebody help him.

A warmth wrapped around his fingers, like a life-line.

"Dick?" the voice was so far away...so far, like he was hearing it under water.

Dick struggled against the chains, he opened his mouth to cry out to the voice, but the cold hand of Andrews covered it. You think you're a hero? You're weak. Pathetic.

Dick trembled. No...he wasn't...

You're a poor imitation of Batman. Even when you try to be strong and in control, it's a mockery. You're a child playing dressed up.

Damn it. Andrews was right...he got...

"Chum?" The voice broke through Dick's inner turmoil. "Please, Dick, please. I'm here. I'm not leaving. Please..."

BRUCE!

Warmth flooded through his body and he jerked. The coldness of Andrews left him and Dick pulled at the chains, struggling to break free to the surface.

He wheezed in a breath as he opened his eyes, pushing the nightmare away.

"Easy, chum, it's okay. You're okay." Bruce was at his bedside, his grip strong in Dick's hand.

"Br-Bruce..." Dick gasped.

Bruce smiled, full of reassurance and love. "I'm here. I told you I wasn't leaving you."

Memories flooded back, garbled at first but Dick picked it up quickly. Tied-up together at the warehouse. The beatings. Getting shot. The goodbye.

Emotions swelled within, blocking out the pain his body was feeling. His tears stung his eyes.

Be strong. You're an officer. A vigilante hero.

Dick's lower lip quivered. He felt like that small child, all those years ago, helpless, afraid, and for once, Dick didn't want to bury that child down.

Bruce's gaze took Dick in and his smile grew soft and sad. "Oh, chum, it's okay."

Dick gasped as Bruce wrapped his arms around him, careful of his left arm which was now in a sling, and covered in bandages.

"You're safe," Bruce said. "You're safe."

A racked sob erupted from Dick's mouth and he struggled to contain it, to hold it back.

"It's okay, chum," Bruce assured. "Let it out. You're safe."

And Dick did. The sobs were hard and his chest ached with each eruption. He buried his face into the crevice between Bruce's neck and shoulder, and wept.

"Oh, Dick," Bruce said, voice heavy with emotions.

Please. Don't think less of me.

"It's okay," Bruce muttered, over and over. "You're safe. I got you."

His safety net was here.

Dick cried, for the beatings, for the taunts, for the struggles, for all that he endured, and for having Bruce here with him, safe.

The next morning, Dick was awake and more coherent. He sat up in his hospital bed, talking softly with Amy as he gave his detailed report. In the corner of the room, Bruce slept, awkwardly in a stiff-cushioned chair.

"I'm glad you're doing alright, partner," Amy said. She closed her notebook and stared at him. "I'm going to give you an order that you'll going to hate, but I must enforce it."

Dick held his breath. Was...was she going to kick him off the force? He wouldn't be surprised.

"Go home with Bruce, and heal. Get better. Then come back when you're ready. You hear me?"

Dick blinked. He glanced over at Bruce. Would Bruce want him to come back? He didn't know if he wanted to go back. Hear all the lectures, all the points of why Bruce was right and how Dick didn't know what he was doing, that he could never amount to the greatness of Bruce, of Batman.

Amy lightly smacked his shoulder. "Give Bruce some credit. He knows."

Dick gapped. "What? Amy!"

Bruce stirred in his deep slumber.

Dick winced and lowered his voice. "Amy, that was supposed to be kept a secret between..."

"Don't blame me," she chided, holding up a finger. "Jim is the tattle-tale. I told you we couldn't trust him." She grinned. "Relax, Dick. I think it's a good thing he knows." She glanced at Bruce before she rose to her feet and knocked on the door twice. "Besides, you've got a visitor."

The door opened and someone wearing an over-sized hoodie, which covered his face walked in. The figure pulled the hood back to reveal a grinning Cian. Cian held up a paper cup.

"Hot chocolate?"

Dick laughed. "Sounds amazing."

Cian handed it over. "Don't get too excited about it. I got it from the cafeteria below, and if hospital food is anything to go by, it probably tastes like shit."

Dick took a sip of the watery hot chocolate, it tasted like rinsed water from a coffee pot. "Tastes like piss. At least it's a step up from shit."

Cian laughed...then it fell as Cian's eyes drank in the sight of Dick. "I'm so sorry...I..."

"You're not your father. You didn't do this."

"But if I..."

"I don't want to hear you blaming yourself. I knew the consequences and I got cocky. Besides, it all worked out in the end."

"I don't know how I would have felt, moving onto a better life knowing you got tortured and killed for it," Cian said.

"He didn't."

Dick and Cian both held their breaths.

Bruce wearily stepped up from the chair and walked over to Dick's bedside, hair sticking out in odd places.

"Dick is safe. And so are you. Focus on that," Bruce said to Cian.

Dick peered up at Bruce. "Okay...did you get hit in the head one too many times yesterday?"

"I nearly watched my son die," Bruce said, flicking his gaze to Dick. "I watched my son get tortured and beaten. I watched my son who was so eager to give himself up to save me. You go through that, and let me know if that doesn't change you."

Dick swallowed. He shifted on the bed, shame and guilt swirling in his stomach.

Bruce's hand landed on Dick's knee and squeezed it.

The guilt lightened.

Cian smiled softly, watching the interaction between the two. "Listen, Dick, I'm heading back to Gotham tonight. I'm being sent out to my new identity and new life. I, I don't know if I'm ever going to see you again. I want to thank you, for everything, you...you didn't have to do all of this...you didn't have to sacrifice..."

"You were worth it. You still are. You deserve a chance to be who and what you want to be," Dick said. "Don't let your father take that away from you, and don't let him haunt you when you leave."

"What's going to happen to him?"

Dick hid his smile. He admired Cian. Despite all that Andrews had done, Cian still held onto a bit of love for his father. "Jail, most likely. If he doesn't escape."

Cian nodded. "I hope he doesn't." He glanced back at Amy and sighed. He reached out a hand to Dick. "Thank you. I promise you. I'll make something great of myself. I'll make all of this..."

"Idiot," Dick interrupted. "You're already great. You're walking away. You want a change. That makes all of this worthwhile."

Cian chuckled. "You're right. Ha. Thank you for everything."

Dick shook Cian's hands, both firm, both as men making promises that they'll be a better version of themselves tomorrow.

He watched Cian walk to the door and gave a small wave before Amy escorted him out.

He was left alone with Bruce.

"Alfred is on his way, with better hot chocolate," Bruce said.

Dick beamed. "He always put those tiny marshmallows in them. That's the secret."

Bruce chuckled.

Dick caught the stained-tears on Bruce's undershirt. He felt his ears grow warm as he remembered sobbing in Bruce's arms last night. He was still a weakling who needed his father.

"Stop it."

Dick glanced up at Bruce who took the paper cup from Dick's hands. He set it on the nightstand next to the IV drip. He turned back to Dick.

"Whatever you're telling yourself," Bruce said. "Stop it."

Dick furrowed his brows. "What makes you think I'm telling myself bad things?"

"Because I'm the reason why you doubt yourself," Bruce said.

Dick blinked. "Wh-what? Bruce, that's not..."

"I came so close to losing you, chum. So close to burying you. One of my worst fears nearly happened, and I realized all the time we've spent the last couple years, fighting and pushing you away..." Bruce's voice choked up and he covered his mouth.

Dick watched in awe, as the vulnerable part of Bruce that he started hiding from Dick when Dick became a teenager was now being exposed.

"I'd realized, my worst fear already happened. I lost you when I pushed you away. I lost you when I stopped speaking to you..." Bruce sighed. "I spent a majority of my life turning fear into a weapon against Gotham's enemies...I never thought I would use fear against you. I'm so...I'm sorry. You deserved better."

Dick's throat worked.

"I realized...I'm like Andrews."

Fire ignited within Dick's heart and he shook his head. "No...no, Bruce, you're nothing like Andrews. You..."

"I expected my son to follow my orders...orders that arose from my fears. Cian had to hide his bravery from his father to start a new life. And you...you threw your courage into my face."

"Bruce, I..." Dick was at lost for words. What was he supposed to say? Maybe he was the one that got hit in the head too many times.

"You're the light in my darkness, Dick," Bruce said.

It was probably the closet I love you Dick would ever get from him. Bruce used to be able to express it so easily when Dick was a child, but when Dick grew, the darkness had consumed Bruce once more. Alfred always tried to reassure Dick that he was the light in Bruce's life, that he was Bruce's hope and optimism.

Hearing Bruce confirm that...Dick fought back the sting of tears in his eyes. He was not going to cry again. He... He wiped at them. Damn it.

Bruce smiled, and chuckled softly. "You don't have anything to prove to me, Dick."

They embraced each other and Dick clung to his foster father, clung to him as if he were afraid he was going to lose Bruce to the darkness once again.

Brue held Dick a bit tighter, and Dick ignored the throb of pain in his shoulder where the bullet wound had been sewn and wrapped.

He could feel his and Bruce's relationship slowly stitching back up, but he knew that, like his bullet wound, while it could be patched up, there will still be a lot of pain and tenderness while it heals. It will take time, Dick was no idiot that what they just went through would not immediately solve all their problems.

It sparked an awareness, a startling perception.

Dick held onto Bruce, and made a promise, a vow.

He would be the light that stood between Bruce and the monster of fear.

And he will allow Bruce to be his light.

He closed his eyes, and allowed the darkness to surround him, knowing that Bruce would catch him, shall he fall.

~Fin~

Please let me know if you liked it, or hated it, or any other thoughts you may have. Thank you for reading this and supporting me and waiting for the final update. You are all amazing. And mostly, thank you for reading. As a writer, it's one of my biggest joy, to share my work.