After surprisingly civil dinner, Bruce and Dick move out to the balcony. The air is a bit chilly but the moon cast bright glow over the lake. Bruce has a scotch in hand and that does enough to keep him warm.

"So are we gonna talk about it?" Dick is the first to break the silence. He always was fidgety when it came to important discussions. For all of his youthful bravado, when it came down to the bottom line, he was still a boy who lost his parents way too young. They will always have that connection, that tragic link that bonds them.

"I'm glad you're doing well. Honestly." Bruce looks in him in eye to let him know he means what he's saying. "Bludhaven is a rough place. It needs someone like you."

"I hold my own."

"I know."

"Be careful, that sounds a little like pride." His smile falters because Bruce knows that's what he's always wanted. For him to be proud. Even now that Dick is nearing thirty, there's still that glimmer of the boy he raised that reflects back in his eyes.

"It is." Bruce tips the glass of scotch at him. "Don't forget who taught you everything you know."

"Every night I'm out there." The statement is full of veneration and gratitude, despite his quips and snarky remarks from before. They may have been irreparably angry with one another, but the sharp edges seem to have dulled enough to let the former respect show through.

"I never meant…" Bruce's voice catches on his words. "I'm sorry you felt like I was trying to…control you. That wasn't my intention. My greatest wish is for you to live a long, happy life." Bruce crosses his arms over his chest. "A father's job is to protect his children. I couldn't do that with Jason. I never want anything to happen to you."

"Wow. I never expected to hear that from you." He holds his hands up. "I'm not being sarcastic."

"It's the truth." He knows Dick isn't being a smartass or verbally sparring. Bruce was never forthcoming with his praise, and even shorter on compliments when he was younger. He was hard on Dick, and Jason. But what they did at such a young age, go out on the streets and fight crime, Bruce had to be tough to keep them safe. He'll never regret that.

"Thank you, that means a lot." Dick's eyes glimmer with moisture and he looks out over the lake. Bruce drops his gaze to his feet, emotion welling in his throat. The silence is welcome. He's truly missed him.

At length, Dick turns his head. "I didn't come here to cause problems between you and Diana."

"I know." Bruce lets out a rueful sigh. "If she's upset with me, it's entirely my fault."

Dick smiles. "What else is new?"

"True." He lifts his scotch from the railing and takes a sip.

"She loves you, I'm sure she'll get over it." Dick turns around and leans his elbows against the railing. "She's good for you, you know?"

Bruce huffs. "You're the fifty-third person who's told me that this week."

"Maybe you should get your head out of your ass and listen for once."

"I am listening. You think I don't know how special she is? How different I am when I'm around her? Because of her?" Bruce shakes his head and smiles. "She makes me a better person."

"She actually got us talking. That's saying something."

"Yeah, she's pretty amazing." Bruce scuffs the toe of his Feragamo shoe against the board in the deck. "I've missed you, Dick."

"I've missed you too, Bruce."

Bruce swallows thickly.

"So are we just gonna stand here and continue to have this awkward dad/son moment or are you going to hug me?"

"You're a shit." Bruce laughs and then cups his hand over the back of his son's head and pulls him in for a tight hug.

He finds Diana in the bedroom. She's already in bed, reading on her iPad. She's in a loose tank top and her hair is piled on top of her head so he knows there will be no sex tonight. Not that he's in the mood. It's been a trying day. He strips off his clothes, pulls on a pair of soft pants and lays down on the cool, smooth sheets. At least she's here and she's not yelling. He folds his hands behind his head and stares at the ceiling trying to think about how he's going to approach this conversation. It's a huge omission and she's well within her rights to never speak to him again.

She places her iPad on the nightstand and leans over to brush a lock of hair off his forehead. Her touch is gentle as she gazes into his eyes from above him.

"Dick get out okay?"

"Yeah."

"Did you end it well?"

"Yeah. I think so."

"That's good."

Bruce turns his head to look at her. "Before you say anything, I'm sorry. I should have told you about Dick. And Jason." A lump forms in his throat and he swallows hard. Her deep russet eyes hold his gaze steadily, tolerantly waiting. It's his last chance to come clean, so he does. "After Jason was killed, I didn't handle it well. I became incensed. I pushed everyone in my life away. We haven't spoken in over five years. I honestly didn't think…Actually I don't know what I thought. When I accused you of not being able to move on after a hundred years, I was being a hypocrite. I am the poster child for survivor's guilt."

She sighs in that supremely patient way that both unsettles him and comforts him as the same time. Her voice is soft, without any anger. Rather it's full of compassion and understanding. "I think that you avoided telling me because it causes you pain and why would you share something so personal when we were concerned with fighting Steppenwolf." Her fingers trace over the large scar on his chest and shoulder as if she knew its relevance. "Then after, we were starting a relationship. It was happy and exciting, and it didn't seem appropriate to bring up how you had lost a son and estranged from another. By then, too much time had passed and how do you bring that up in conversation? Is that about right?"

"More or less."

She tips his face towards hers. "Bruce, if this is going to work, we need to be completely honest with each other, no matter how painful or difficult it is to talk about."

He takes her hand in his and kisses her knuckles. She's right. She's always right. He trusts her like no other. On the battlefield, with his heart, with his soul, with his very being.

Rolling to his side to face her, he takes a deep breath and tucks her hand close to his heart. "I adopted Dick after his parents were killed. I was young, too young to take on a thirteen-year-old kid. But having lost my parents, I knew what that was like." The words are like sandpaper in his throat but he continues. "One night, about a year in, he discovered my vigilante work. He had so many questions. I tried to keep him away, but I couldn't. He wanted to join me, to fight alongside me. I refused, but he pushed and pushed. So, I trained him. Hard. Damned if he didn't take to it like a natural."

He remembers the night he ran Dick through the Gauntlet. His ultimate test––evade Batman through the streets of Gotham until sunrise. He passed with flying colors. He graduated to become Robin. It was one of Bruce's proudest moments.

"Eventually, I allowed him out in the field with me and we fought some of the worst criminals in the history of Gotham. And just like any too-smart-for-his-own-good teenager, he grew cocky and started to venture out on his own. Take jobs that were dangerous and foolish. We argued over and over about it. He flunked out of college, wanted to start his own team and try to balance working with me. I was furious. So I fired him." Bruce shakes his head. "That was the first break. I alienated him. In retrospect, I was frustrated and hurt. And a complete asshole.

"Then Jason came along. And that caused more problems. Dick didn't want me to take him in. Jason was on the street alone. I couldn't leave him out there, so adopted him too. Eventually Dick grew to care about Jason, but there was always a distance and a tension that remained with me. I don't know if Dick was jealous, or protective…I don't know…I wasn't a good father to Jason either.

"He was different. Tougher. Angry and impulsive. He lacked discipline. He required a lot of training. But he went into it knowing the streets. In that way, he was easier and more difficult. Until…"

Bruce's throat clamps shut and he coughs. The flashes of memory come fast. How he got there too late, the blood, so much blood. The hideous laughter and the sing-songing dance of the Clown Queen. An explosion of fire. The searing pain on his shoulder where the burning support beam fell.

He rubs the heels of his palms over his eyes. White lights flash in the blackness.

The words tumble from his mouth then. He explains every last detail of how he almost murdered a deranged man in cold blood. The man who took the life of an innocent boy just to taunt him. How he savagely beat all of the Joker's teeth from his mouth before he was stopped by Jim Gordon. All of the rage. The despair. How it broke his soul. How he blamed himself. And as a consequence, how that rage stewed for nearly ten years and fueled his hatred for Clark. His growing fear because of the damage Superman's fight with Zod caused, the death of good people, his people, and the unpredictability of such a powerful being left unchecked.

Her hand, soft and loving, wipes his cheeks of tears he didn't know he shed. It's been an eternity since he cried. But he can't stop the flow now. There are tears in her eyes as well when her arms encircle him and pull him against her chest. Her hands cradle his head, as she holds him. Her heart beats steadily under his cheek, a secure rhythm grounding him to the life he's building now away from his dark and tragic past. Her scent envelopes him in its warmth. For the first time, it's a relief to relive the story. To get the words out. No fear of judgement.

Her fingers comb through his hair and over his back.

His eyelids are heavy with emotional exhaustion. He knows he'll have nightmares tonight. Because he worries about Dick, and Barbara, even though he knows he trained them well. But maybe, just maybe, sleeping in Diana's arms tonight will keep his demons at bay.

"Thank you."

"For what?"

"For being here. For being who you are." He rolls back to his side and takes her hand in his. "For loving me."

She caresses his cheek and presses her forehead to his. "I knew there was a story, a reason. I've seen the costume and the vile writing on it. How you pay homage to it when no one is looking or when things are troubling you." She pulls back and looks in his eyes, the backs of her fingers trace the lines on his face. "And I knew in time, you would share that story with me." She kisses him softly. "Your heartbreak is my heartbreak now. Just as your joy is my joy. We will face whatever horrors are in this world, whatever bliss there is, together."

His kiss her hand and presses her palm against his heart. His love for this woman growing deeper than he ever thought possible. "Together."

She holds his gaze for a long moment until an impish smile spreads over her lips and Bruce pulls back, warily. "Now, what's this about 'thieving women'?"

He groans and rolls her flat on her back, positioning himself between her strong thighs. "That is a story for another day."

Her hands press against his forearms holding him away. "Do I have to worry about these women showing up on your doorstep?"

"Woman. And not likely." Her arched eyebrow makes him explain further. He sighs. "Haven't seen her in almost eight years. Last I heard she was in Prague. I thought I was in love, that I could save her. I asked her to marry me. And we were happy for a while." He says it like a laundry list of items in a debrief. There really is no need for explanation because that part of his life is long gone. "It didn't work because leopards don't change their spots."

"Her or you?"

He rolls his eyes. Always so astute. "Both. I will always fight on the side of justice, for what's right. She, on the other hand, has a very loose interpretation of what right is."

"I see."

He shifts his position to bring his hand to her cheek. "What I had with her can't hold a candle to the way I feel about you, Princess." He places a kiss on her lips. "You are so much more than I bargained for. And everything I didn't realize I needed."

Her smile is infectious and she cups his face between her hands. "All right, you are off the hook."

"Good."