Story Synopsis: Set after Blackest Night: Batman. Batman and Red Robin head home for a little R and R with splash of angst.
Author’s Note: I already addressed some of this in “Knight-Errant.” I just figured in the real continuum, this would have been a great place for all this to take place.
“After the Lanterns”
They retreated to the Bat Bunker after the Black Lanterns left. Dick sat the computer console, his cowl against his back, as he listened to Barry Allen. Finally, he nodded.
“Understood. En route shortly.” He cut the connection.
Red Robin crossed his arms. “You’re seriously not thinking about going out in that again.”
“I have to,” Dick replied. “Barry said they used Bruce’s skull to ‘kill’ Superman, Wonder Woman, even Green Arrow.”
He couldn’t bring himself to tell Tim about Connor.
“I have to go.”
Red Robin nodded once. “I’ll go with you.”
Dick rose from his seat and shed his wet cape. “No, it’s too dangerous.”
“You said we were equals,” Tim called when Dick disappeared into the costume vault. “That means you don’t get to boss me around like I’m your little brother.”
“But you are my little brother.” Dick exited, dressed in jeans and long-sleeved T-shirt. His feet were bare. “That means I get to tell you what to do and what not to do. Now, there are some clothes in there that should be your size. Why don’t you get changed, and we’ll go upstairs and eat.”
Red Robin hesitated. “You told Mr. Allen you were going to be en route.”
“Shortly. He said he’s working with Hal, Mera, and a handful of others, making a new group of Guardians. He just wants me to see if I can break Black Hand’s hold on Bruce.”
Immediately, Tim’s rebellious attitude clicked into place. “Then I should go, too.”
“What you need to do is rest,” Dick
asserted, placing a hand on his brother’s shoulder. “You’ve been nonstop since
He turned away. “It’s not your concern.”
“Maybe not, but if you’re going to come with me to fight these bastards, then you’re going to need to eat, regroup, maybe even take a nap.”
Red Robin narrowed his eyes and still hesitated.
“Look, Gordon and Barbara are upstairs recouping, okay? If Gordon doesn’t know The Secret—which we all know he does—then we have to at least make an attempt here to keep up appearances. And if not that, then at least adhere to Alfred’s wishes. He doesn’t like the costumes up there.”
“It doesn’t stop you, does it?”
Dick let his easy smile shape his features. “Hey, I’ve always been a little stubborn.”
“A little?”
Dick reached to ruffle his brother’s hair—once he freed it from the cowl— but Red Robin ducked out of the way and not with a smile on his face. Dick waited a few moments for Tim to change, and when the teenager came out of the vault, he looked like the little lost boy who left almost six months ago. Even worse, his hair had grown out, though not unkindly, while his eyes had sunken into his head from exhaustion.
“Man,” Dick laughed, “look in a mirror lately?”
“Please. You wore your hair like this for years, and don’t get me started on the pony tail.”
Dick lifted his hands in surrender. “Touché.”
They were walking on eggshells, going through the motions but not exactly comfortable. For now, Dick would take it.
And he wouldn’t ask the question he knew the answer to.
Or he thought he knew.
When they finally reached the penthouse, Tim stopped just inside the kitchen, his eyes ricocheting about the opulence that greeted him. Alfred stood at the island, making refreshments for everyone, while Damian sat the granite countertop, eating a chicken pasta concoction, full of energy. Barbara and her father were missing, most likely recuperating in the guest bedrooms.
Alfred noticed him immediately. “Master Timothy!” He came forward to embrace the younger man. “This is truly a treat.”
“A dog treat, maybe,” Damian grumbled.
Tim smiled moderately. “Thanks, Alfie.”
“Come. I’ll make you some rice and curry.”
When Tim sat down next to Damian, the boy looked up at him. “So, you have returned for more concessions, Drake? Losing your status as my father’s partner was not enough?”
Dick leaned against the counter next to his youngest brother. “Damian, fetch my palm computer from my room, all right?”
“I’m not your damn dog!”
“If you get it really slowly, I’ll give you a treat.” He rubbed the boy’s hair for good measure.
Damian scowled and jumped off the stool, growling from the room.
Tim blinked. “The Dynamic Duo?”
Dick slid into Damian’s seat. “You just have to know how to deal with him, Tim.”
“I still don’t know how you do.”
“Simple,” Dick smiled. “I hit him with a rolled up newspaper.”
‘So, Master Tim.” Alfred slipped the bowl under Tim’s chin. “How has your journey been?”
Tim froze in mid-bite. “Um…it’s been interesting.”
“How so?”
Tim shoveled some rice into his mouth and mumbled, “I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Why?” Dick challenged. “It’s okay to say you haven’t found anything.”
That tore it. Tim slammed his hands down upon the counter, almost dumping over his rice. “I knew you were going to say that. I knew you just couldn’t let it go for now.”
“I’m not the one who can’t let go.”
“Maybe I can’t let go because he’s still alive!”
“Just like you couldn’t let Connor go?” Dick pressed. “You tried to clone him, remember? And he was dead.”
“How—” Tim pulled back his head. “How did you know that?”
Dick shrugged and took a bite of Tim’s rice. “Bruce raised detectives, y’know. And you are my brother.”
Tim blinked. ‘What—What else do you know?”
Another shrug. “How’s the stomach wound?”
That happened in the middle of the desert, surrounded by members of the League of Assassins with the Widower. There was no way Dick could know what happened. No way in hell, and yet…yet he did.
“Perhaps I should take a look at it later, Timothy,” Alfred suggested. “Make sure you’re healing all right.”
“I’m fine,” Tim snapped and grabbed his spoon from Dick’s hand.
BLEEP!
Dick reached into his pocket and pulled out his cell phone. He looked at the number before inching off the chair. “I have to take this.”
He disappeared fairly quickly.
When he returned
a minute later, his palm computer in his pocket, Tim had already retired to the
living room, looking out at the fires that broken out in
“We will be, but for right now, we have to take care of ourselves.”
Tim shook his head. “Why? Bruce’s mantra was, ‘I’ll sleep when I’m dead.’”
“Well, I’m not Bruce.”
“I’m aware of that.”
The rancorous tone smacked Dick harder than he would have liked, and he averted his eyes. “Look, I get it, okay? But I’m who you’re stuck with now, so get used to it.”
“…I didn’t mean anything by it.”
“Yes, you did. You know, it’s not like I wanted this gig. You were the one who said I should be Batman.”
“And you should be! Or someone should be, but not Jason.”
“Oh, so I’m just a placeholder, so Jason doesn’t have the cowl.”
Tim smacked himself upside the head. “That’s not what I meant!”
“Grayson, Drake—”
Tim growled
at the newcomer. “It’s
“Hey, Identity Crisis!” Damian snapped from the doorway. “You woke up Gordon, and I do not wish to spend my life in a substandard prison.”
“Yes. For the prince of assassins, we need a first-rate prison,” Dick snapped. “Now, go to your room, or else I’ll send Tim in there to mess with your electronics.”
The boy left with stomping until Dick and Tim stood alone in the silence of the living room. Suddenly, Dick’s left phone rang, and he hit off quickly.
“I didn’t mean it like that,” Tim whispered.
“But that’s what you said.” Dick let out a growling sigh. “Look, I wanted to take the cowl, okay?”
“Don’t patronize me.”
“I’m not. I
wanted to, but in Bruce’s final message, he told me not to. He trusted you and
me to hold
Tim stared incredulously at his older brother. “Why didn’t you tell me—or Alfred?”
“Because I was listening to a dead guy’s wishes when the world was falling apart. Not exactly the most sane course of action.”
“We always listened to Bruce,” Tim muttered. “And he’s not dead.”
Dick nodded. “Okay.”
“Oh, don’t you dare do that.” Tim fisted his hands in his hair and furiously tugged them out. “I know that voice. It’s the one where you say anything to stop an argument, but I know I’m right.”
“Okay.”
“Stop saying that!”
“Well, what do you want me to say? That you told me to trust you and believe you, and I do.”
“God! You thought I needed therapy!”
“I still do,” Dick eased. “But I think Jason does, too, but he, I don’t think I can stop from killing the therapist.”
Tim turned toward the window. “I’m not crazy, y’know.”
“I never said you were.” Dick growled and raked a through his shorter locks. “Look, I’m living with the prince of assassins, who I think has simply learned to tolerate me. Then I’ve got another little brother who’s killing people left and right, and a sister whom I have no idea where she is. Now Barbara is training Stephanie to be the new Batgirl—”
Tim whirled. “WHAT!”
“—and then I have you, who wants to go on a world-hopping adventure to find our dead father when I need you here the most.”
“Why? Because I’m your only ally.”
“Well, yeah, that too, but…you keep me sane.”
Tim’s arms slowly uncrossed. “What?”
Dick shrugged. “How am I supposed to keep it together, huh? I’m just supposed to slide into Bruce’s boots and suddenly be him? I’m supposed to know what to do and save the world from Black Lanterns and demonic brothers and Two-Face and whatnot. I’m good, Tim, but not that good, and the only person who still believes in me, who keeps a semblance of what we were, wants nothing more than to lose his mind trying to find something that might not be there.”
“Bruce is alive.”
“Fine, he’s alive, but that doesn’t stop me from worrying. You’re not the only one who’s lost a lot of people, Tim, and I refuse to lose my little brother.”
For a moment, Dick thought he pushed more buttons than he should have, but Tim simply stood before him, his eyes narrowed while his brain worked. Sometimes, the older brother forgot just how bright Tim was. Smart, intelligent—absolutely, but there were times Dick thought the boy rivaled Bruce.
Then, Tim trusted him. “I found evidence in
The realization hit Dick like a punch to the gut, but he didn’t show it. “I believe you.”
Tim blinked, taken back. “You do?”
“Of course. You’re my little brother. You said you believed he was alive. The evidence is just the proof, but you knew way before then.”
Tim shook his head, petulant. “You’re doing it again.”
“No, I’m not.”
“Yes, you are!”
“Oh, God!” His
cellphone chimed again, and Dick scowled as he hit it off. “What do you want
from me, Tim? I trust you; you don’t believe. I don’t trust you; you think I’m
an insincere jerk. If you have such little faith in me, then why’d you stay
after the Lanterns anyway? Why don’t you just go back to
“Because you almost died, you jackass!”
For the first time, Dick saw the tears hiding behind his little brother’s eyes, but Tim turned quickly to hide them.
“And I can’t lose you, either.”
Dick ruffled the back of his head before coming and wrapping his arms around Tim’s shoulders from behind. The younger man immediately tried to escape the embrace, but Dick held firm, his chin on Tim’s head.
“I do believe you, even if you don’t believe me.”
Tim held onto Dick’s arms. “I believe you.”
“And by the way, Jason’s the jackass.”
“Depending on the situation.”
“Oh, you talk big, but you’re the one wearing the guy’s old suit.”
The cellphone jingled again, and
Dick blew out his frustration. With a kiss to the top of Tim’s head, he
released the boy. “I have to take this.
“All right. But you won’t leave without me, right?”
Dick smiled. “Of course not.”
The older brother returned less than ten minutes later to find Tim curled up on the couch using one of his old sweatshirts as a pillow. The boy’s hair was tossed about him like a halo. Alfred came into the room and draped an afghan over the teen.
“Bruce’s alive,” Dick finally whispered.
Alfred nodded. “I know.”
“You know?”
Alfred met Dick’s widened eyes squarely. “Of course. If Timothy believed he could find and/or resurrect Bruce, then I believed he would. He isn’t one to be foolhardy or imbecilic.”
Dick grinned lowly. “You never give up on us, do you, Alfred?”
“God knows what would happen if I did. Who would patch your injuries or tailor your suits? You might have to hire that Mercy girl, and I do not believe she irons Lex Luthor’s ties.”
Sighing, Dick looked out the window at the fires in the city. “He’s going to hate me.”
“Now I doubt that is even possible.”
“Oh, you’ll find out.” He raised his cell phone. “Hal and now Barry are on me. They need me, but I can’t—”
“Go,” Alfred insisted. “It is my job to watch over lost lads, my boy. They will be here when you get back.”
Dick shook his head. “If I get back.”
“I do believe you would be giving Timothy another crusade in which to endeavor.”
“Yes. He’ll bring me back to life just to kill me again.”
“That is the affairs of bats, Richard. Despite their stoic outward appearances, they are truly emotional creatures with violent tendencies. Now, I have arranged for Master Wallace to accompany you.”
Dick nodded and headed toward the kitchen. “The homing devices?”
“Already in Timothy’s breaches, his belt, and his cowl.”
“Homemade rice and curry?”
“Packed in the refrigerator and ready to serve as take-out.”
“The mind-wipe ray, so he can’t remember that he was ever mad at me and wanted to leave?”
Alfred raised an ordinary Bic pen as Dick turned in the elevator. “As always, ready at a moment’s notice.”
Dick’s lips perked into a grin before they fell to a serious frown. “If I don’t—”
“You will—”
“If I don’t…” Dick pressed with clenched teeth. “Tell him I always believed in him. Oh, and Damian’s his problem.”
Alfred made a face. “Of course. Bad news should always be delivered post-mortem.”
“My sentiments exactly.”
There was a moment of silence before Alfred gathered the younger man in a strong embrace. “Good luck, lad,” he murmured before letting Dick go.
The younger man hit the down button.
Dick was gone by the time Alfred made it to the living room, where Tim still rested soundlessly. Alfred sighed as he took the seat across from him. The boy’s face was now scrunched in a pout, as if he knew what had happened.
Alfred brushed back the boy’s hair from his forehead. “In the event of ‘if,’ I suggest a rather long and painful punishment, Timothy. Of course, I’ll leave the details up to you and Bruce.”
THE END