Partners, Sons, and Wards

By

AJ

"NO!" Nightwing cried out his anguish . . . the dream . . . no the nightmare . . . reliving it over and over. It was too much to bear. The loss . . . the heartache . . . the guilt . . . and the deep rage that seemed to fill his every being. All he wanted to do was avenge his partner, but knew that wouldn't bring him back and it has never been his way.

Dick Grayson got up from the bed, his body bathed in sweat. It had been a week since they buried Damian and still he couldn't get the images out of his head and the deep seeded feeling that he failed not only his partner, he failed Bruce. He had been Damian's guardian while Bruce had been trapped in the past. He felt his world crashing down on him and all he wanted to do was run, run from the shambles his life had become. Not since his parents' deaths had he felt utterly and completely alone. And so he ran, but he didn't know where he was going and he didn't care. When he finally collapsed it was at the foot of the one place he didn't expect to be, his parents' grave. And for a time all he could do was grieve.

/

"Have you seen Dick?" Tim questioned as he entered the kitchen. Usually he was one of the first people up, but this morning he hadn't appeared. Bruce was nursing a cup of coffee having been up all night with Jason. The coffee had grown cold.

"No, why?"

"I heard him cry out in his sleep again last night," Tim said. "I went down to the cave, but he wasn't there. How's Jason this morning?"

"Much better. Whatever he went through it seems to have exorcized some demons. I think he's finally healing . . . and . . ." Bruce's eyes narrowed. "You said Dick's not in the cave or in his room?"

"No," Tim said. "I also called his apartment thinking he might have left some time last night, but there was no answer and his motorcycle is still in the cave. I can't find him."

Bruce went to Dick's room to find his balcony open and his bedclothes torn and ragged. 'He must have been thrashing about so badly . . . I haven't seen him do that not since . . . Why didn't I check on him?' Bruce knew the answer to that question. He had been concerned for Jason after what happened and after the funeral, they all seemed to melt into their own little worlds, trying to cope with the grief that each of them were feeling. Bruce examined the room and found partially hidden under the bed Dick's journal. He normally would not violate his son's privacy, but what had been written on the page chilled him to the bone.

'Oh no! He wouldn't dare do it . . . would he? Would he go to that extreme?'

The words reminded him of another time, a time when Dick came back to help him through the pain and anguish of losing Jason, but by some miracle Jason had been returned to them. He could not say the same for Damian.

The words on the page filled Bruce with images that brought the feelings back to him, the anguish, the anger, the grief, and the utter feeling of failure. He looked toward the balcony and he knew and understood so clearly. Tossing the journal onto the bed, without another word, Bruce raced down the stairs, grabbed his keys that were sitting on the side table near the front door, climbed into the small sports car, started the engine and was out the gate before anyone else knew he had even left. He had to do this.

Reading the journal, the date on the page stuck out in Bruce's mind. 'Why did it have to happen on . . . His anguish must be unbearable as it was for me.'

The drive to Newtown took less than thirty minutes and the drive to Robinson Cemetery took less than five. Rather than park the car near the site, Bruce parked it close to the care taker's cottage and walked the rest of the way. Sure enough, he found his eldest lying in front of the large granite headstone that marked the resting place of John and Mary Grayson. His son was still in his pajamas and his feet were bare. He could see they were bleeding from small cuts where something sharp had imbedded itself in the pads of his soles.

'He must have ran here all night,' Bruce thought. "At least this time, it hadn't been raining. Why hadn't he come to me?" Bruce knew the answer. They had all tried to extinguish the emotions of caring, to exorcize whatever feeling they might have to keep their enemies from using those emotions against them, and in doing so, whatever joy and light they might have experienced was marginalized. Even pride was kept locked in a closet in the dark until it became as foreign as being able to voice three little words. And yet it was Dick who continued to express such feelings as if he was doing his best to let everyone know there was more than just pain and sorrow out there. Without warning the light that had been a part of Dick Grayson had been overshadowed. With the Court of Owls, having to be Batman, and now Damian's death, the young man's spirit had shattered. It was apparent in the way the boy had ran away from everyone and everything.

Bruce remembered the night when Dick's world changed. It had been a reminder of when his world changed. He understood and in that understanding, a bond had formed that had been nearly unbreakable. Then a misunderstanding and jealous rage nearly drove them apart, their relationship being strained off and on for the years. When Jason came along it was Dick who was hurt the most, but he did his best to understand. In truth, Bruce missed Dick, but his own pride prevented him from expressing the fact that he needed Dick just as much.

'I keep telling myself that I don't need a partner, but in truth . . . what I don't want is to be alone,' Bruce approached Dick on silent footsteps, standing above and staring down at this broken and grieving son. 'And I made a promise that you would never be alone again. I know how it feels . . .'

Bruce knelt down and brushed his hand through Dick's hair. He had no idea how long the young man had been here, how long the young man had cried out his anguish. As Bruce brushed his hand through Dick's hair, the young man moved and grabbed Bruce by the waist, clinging on as he once did as a child. Their common bond of losing parents was now doubled in a way that neither expected, the loss of a son, a brother, a ward, and a partner. Silent tears streamed down Bruce's face as well.

"I understand," Bruce said quietly, the very words he had said on that first night he had approached the boy as he sat up in a tree in the middle of a field. Dick's face turned upward and their eyes met. The loss that both felt was mirrored in not only their eyes but within their souls.

"I . . . I . . . failed . . ."

"No, Dick," Bruce said, gently. "I failed. I failed Jason. I failed Tim. I failed Damian, and I failed you."

"How? I . . . don't understand."

"I lost perspective," Bruce said. "I pushed everyone away, thinking only about the mission and in doing that I lost myself. I lost the light you brought into my life. And when I was gone, you took it upon yourself to provide that light for others, especially Damian. I never thanked you for that."

"I . . . I only did what I thought . . . Damian needed," Dick answered. "But . . . what he needed was a father . . . he needed you . . ."

"No, not really," Bruce said. "I . . . I could never express . . ." Bruce gave out a sigh. "I . . . am not . . ."

". . . Bull," Dick stated. "I have always known what you meant without you having to say it. And you are a warm person Bruce. You are to me. Though it is nice to hear the words, too . . ."

The look that each man had expressed 'But it just wasn't necessary, not for us.'

Dick once again leaned into Bruce just as he would when he was small. 'I'm glad it was you who came after me.'

'I will always be there. I understand more than you'll ever know.'

Bruce cleared his throat one more time. "Do me a favor," Bruce asked. "Don't lose perspective. You are not alone in this. And having you, Tim, Alfred, and even Jason, I've realized I'm not alone. I've never been alone. And I don't ever want to be alone again. And I owe you my thanks, Dick."

"Thanks . . . why?"

"When Leviathon nearly beat me to death, you were there. You finished what I started. You have always been there when I have needed help the most. You always seem to know when . . ."

"I once told Alfred, I made a promise to watch your back, no matter what," Dick said. "Then when I thought you were really gone, I retook the oath to keep hope in Gotham . . . But . . . I . . . I feel like . . . I've let you down. I . . . I didn't protect Damian."

"Dick, I didn't protect Jason any more than you protected Damian and you were there," Bruce began. "I blamed myself for a very long time. I nearly destroyed myself and compromised my own principles."

"I remember," Dick said quietly. It had been one of their rougher moments and Dick nearly gave up on Bruce. But it was Tim who showed him the truth, how Batman became more brutal. Even when Dick had been severely hurt in the course of their partnership, Batman never compromised his principles or threw out his skills as a detective. It seemed those darker moments have overshadowed everything they believed in.

"The person to blame here is Talia," Bruce stated. "Damian rejected everything her and Ra's al Ghul stood for. She thought she could create a son who would be obedient and one that could rule or destroy at her command. Damian died a Wayne."

"She's done everything to turn what we do into something sordid, as if we were the terrorists," Dick pointed out.

Bruce gave Dick a slight grin pleased to see that his son was not allowing his grief to define whom he was inside.

"How are we going to stop her?" Dick asked.

"By going back to the beginning. If it means that Batman, Nightwing, Red Robin, and Red Hood must operate once again in the shadows, we will do so."

"But what about Wayne Enterprises and . . ."

"Batman Incorporated?"

"Yeah," Dick stated. "I mean . . . Bruce . . ."

"I know. I have to separate myself from all of that. I . . . have to divorce myself from . . . Batman."

"Are you planning on asking for a big settlement?" Dick asked jokingly.

Bruce chuckled at Dick's attempt at humor, pleased to see that his son's sunnier nature was resurfacing. "No, but I will go back to doing what Bruce Wayne does best and that's philanthropy. And we'll start by setting up a special foundation in the name of Damian Wayne for all families who have ever lost a child to violence."

Dick nodded his head in approval. The crime centers that Bruce had supported in the past were designed to help children who lost their parents to violence, even to try to help prevent it from ever happening again. The crime centers though successful for a short time became overwhelmed and were somehow over looked in the face of everything else over the years. Going back to the beginning . . . for some might feel like another failure, but not this time.

'I think that's a great idea," Dick said. "Damian would have probably scoff at that but . . . I think secretly he would have approved."

"Are you ready to go home?" Bruce asked. "I think it's time we all sit and talk about all of this and what needs to be done."

"Sure . . . Dad . . . As soon as I say goodbye."

Bruce got up and moved to the car. He observed how Dick's posture and demeanor had changed over the course of their conversation. Dick was no longer in that deep despair that could have driven him to do just about anything that could get him killed, but he chose to come here. Though there would still be days and even weeks where their loss will still be keenly felt, this time, they weren't going to face it alone. They would face it together, as a family, and as a family they had a purpose, to honor the ones that were lost and see that it never happens again.

End