A/N: Some
dialogue/ideas are from JLU and Batman Beyond. I’m not
making any profit. Trust me on that.
“Legacies”
Chapter Three
“Do you actually work in your office or do you just like it empty?”
Derek Powers looked up from his sleek computer screen to furl an eyebrow. “I run my company.”
Crossing his arms, Dick shook his head. “Can’t tell.”
The office
was supposed to be chic with a mahogany desk, the newest computer from Apple,
and two leather chairs. Even the tile was imported, and the floor-to-ceiling
window lacked curtains that would cover the view of
That was it.
“Apparently, not everyone needs to be bogged down by paperwork.” Derek clicked a few buttons, and reports came up on the screen. “Here’re our financial records for the last decade.”
As Dick took a seat, Derek began to amble about the room. “May I ask you a question, Mr. Grayson?”
“We’re
getting rather friendly, Mr. Powers. Just to let you know, I’m okay with
sitting in uncomfortable silence.” I was
raised by Batman, after all.
Derek leaned back against the window and leered. “Why do you work for Bruce? Don’t you want the company for yourself?”
Dick rolled his eyes. “Not of all us are greedy bastards, Mr. Powers.”
“But you could easily—”
The last straw. Dick collected the SD card from the computer and rose to his feet. He forced himself to smile. “Mr. Powers, are you packing heat?”
Derek blinked.
“Excuse me?”
“Are you wearing a gun or something equally as deadly?”
“No. Why do you ask?”
Dick shrugged as he sat down on the
front of the desk and smiled. “The last time I took over someone’s position, he
came at me with a shotgun. I really didn’t want a repeat.” Dick inhaled a sharp
breath and continued effortlessly, “I just finished downloaded your financial
files from a secret Cray that you keep off-line. On it I found files linking
you to arms dealing in
Derek huffed but quickly regained his composure, resituating his tie. “You can’t prove I knew any of that.”
“Oh, that’s not for me to decide, Mr. Powers. See, when I was looking at your ‘legitimate’ finances last week, I took a glance at the stockholders of Powers Industries.” Dick cocked his most smug smirk. “I found out you run your company with only thirty-two percent of the stock. The rest is broken down, so no one else has more shares than you. Well, until yesterday, that is.
“I subsequently bought fifty-point-three percent of Powers Industries’ stock. Now, get the hell out of my office.”
Derek narrowed his eyes. “I wish I had a gun.”
“Yeah, but then you’d be rotting right next to Paul Kingsley in Blackgate, so consider yourself lucky.”
Somehow, Derek held back his rage, but Dick saw the flames ready to explode in his eyes. “You will not get away with this, Mr. Grayson,” Derek vowed.
Dick continued to smile. “I didn’t the first time.”
Derek took one last long look at his office before security guards met him at the door. He nodded to them, “Gentlemen.” He glanced back. “Mr. Grayson.”
“Mr. Powers.”
The door slammed shut behind Derek.
Laughing to himself, Dick flipped open his phone and speed-dialed one. A dark voice came over. “Report.”
“It’s done,” Dick replied.
“Good.”
Dick snapped shut his phone. He waited five minutes before the secretary eventually crept in. She was short and athletic, appearing a little like a 70’s swinger with purple blocked glasses and short brown hair. Dick smiled at her and put out his hand.
“Hello, Miss Winston. I’m Dick Grayson. How do you like your coffee?”
She straightened her back. “Excuse me?”
“Coffee? Don’t tell me you haven’t heard of it.”
“But…” She hesitated for a moment.
“You must
be a tea person, or do you like lattes? I know a great little café in
*^*^*
“Winston’s not an issue,” Dick eased, his socked feet hiked up on the JLA’s monitor womb console. In a simple T-shirt and jeans, he looked as comfortable in outer space as he did at home on the couch. “I gave her some coffee, smiled a little, and she crumpled. Apparently, Derek was never nice to her.”
“Be careful,” Batman advised, sitting with his cowl on and typing. “She couldn’t have been so easily won.”
“What will you have me do? Fire her?”
“Yes.”
Dick shook his head. “If we go witch-hunting through Power Industries, we’re going to have employees with panic attacks. Trust me, will you? I’ll assimilate the company with W.E.”
“I was thinking of making it a separate entity and giving it a name change. We can’t have the SEC investigating us for monopolization.”
“Monopolization!” Dick laughed. “Please. Between Lex Corp. and Drake Industries and don’t get me started about Microsoft and Google—we’re fine, Bruce. Don’t worry about it.”
They were alone in the monitor womb and at the moment on the JLA satellite, but still, Batman cocked an eyebrow.
“Oh, please. If you were sooo worried about your identity, you wouldn’t let me up here.”
“Unless you were in uniform.”
“I’m not out there anymore.”
“We need to correct that.”
Dick rolled
his eyes and looked toward Earth. “I…I don’t know, Bruce. I—I’m not ready yet.”
“You’ve been out of costume
almost a year.”
“So? Go
pick on Tim about this stuff. You know he’s about ready to jump out of his
civvies and run around
“From the right person.”
“Which is why you should talk to him.”
“It won’t mean as much coming from me.” Batman whirled to look directly at Dick. “He needs to talk to you.”
“What can I possibly tell him, Bruce?” Dick finally exploded and shot to his feet. He purposely moved away, standing on the opposite end of the console. “I should tell him that he has a duty and should accept it? I should tell him that people are waiting for him to return, and he shouldn’t wait until he’s ready? I should tell him that even though he wants with all his heart to take the helm, he knows he’s not ready and never will be?” He crossed his arms and ducked his head. “I let Tim get tortured.”
“That’s not true.”
“He could’ve died because of me, and I—I just keep thinking that I knew about this. That I somehow could’ve changed it, and I didn’t.”
Two strong hands fell upon his shoulders. “You kept yourself and Tim alive. That’s the best you could ever hope for when fighting the Joker.”
“But Tim survived without me, so what did I really do other than watch him scream?”
“You gave him hope,” Batman replied. “You gave him someone to share hell with, and that was more than enough.”
Dick raised his teary eyes, and a soft smile graced his features. “Who are you talking about now? Tim or you?”
“Who were you talking about? You or Tim?”
Dick laughed lowly. “I know what you want me to do, Bruce. I’ve seen the costume sketches. I’ve seen Tim’s new uniform, but…I can’t be out there.”
“If you aren’t, then Amanda Waller will be,” Batman affirmed. Even before Dick asked, the older man continued, “She’s started a project to recreate Batman following my death.”
“B—But that’s insane!”
“I already have a legacy, one that would surpass anything she could conceive, and I won’t let her continue my work. Not when I have someone fully capable.”
“So is that what this is about? Your ego?”
“No.” Batman motioned toward his chest, not the symbol upon it. “You know it’s not.”
Dick cursed under his breath. “How long have you known I know?”
“Since you started watching my vitals from the Batcomputer. What I don’t understand is why you haven’t addressed it yet.”
“If I can’t
protect my own brother, how am I supposed to help you protect
“Like this.” Batman motioned for Dick to follow, and when they entered the costume vault, Batman flattened his hand upon a side panel. The wall opened with a hiss, and Dick took a sharp breath.
“This—This isn’t like the sketches I saw.”
“I know. I
don’t want you watching my back.” Batman met his gaze firmly. “I want you
watching
“And Tim?”
“Will work with you.” A hand upon a shoulder. “After what happened, he trusts you more than anyone else.”
“Bruce…I…I don’t know…”
An all-alert siren blared through the satellite, and before Dick could answer, Batman raced toward the monitor womb. The older man was slower than he used to be, Dick noticed, not by much but enough. As they reached the computer, Batman hit the comm. units. “This is Batman. Go ahead.”
“We’ve got a situation. The Injustice Society has returned,” Wonder Woman informed. “We need all available help.”
“Three-fourths of our roster is in deep space. The rest are scattered. The best we have to offer is Hawk, Dove, and…”
“And?” she pressed.
On the platform below, Dick zipped up the suit and held the cowl. “Run the console, old man. Let me handle it.”
“I’m sending you Batman, Wonder Woman.”
“I do not copy, Batman. Repeat.”
The teleporter hummed to life.
*^*^*
“BATMAN!” Wonder Woman screamed, and as she heard a faint buzzing, she whirled just fast enough to deflect a laser aimed at her head. She narrowed her eyes at the large gorilla behind her.
“Hello, Amazon. Prepare to serve me.”
A red and black batarang slashed Grodd across the back of the head, and he toppled forward. Wonder Woman sidestepped to let him fall before turning toward her partner. There, a dark figure in a black jumpsuit with a red Batsignal met her, and if she didn’t know any better, she would have swore he was smirking.
“Welcome back…Batman.”
“Thanks, Wonder Woman. …I’ll let you know how it feels.”
*^*^*
From her own console, Amanda Waller rubbed her chin. Then, she snapped her fingers. “You. Get me Bruce Wayne on the phone. We need to talk.”
*^*^*
“I don’t trust her.” Dick scowled.
Amanda Waller narrowed her eyes. “I’m right here.”
“I know.”
Bruce placed a comforting hand on Dick’s shoulder. The younger man sat on a doctor’s table, his shirt off. He looked like a little lost boy trying to hide his fear, but Bruce nodded in understanding.
“I do. That’s enough for you.”
Dick furled
an eyebrow. Bruce trusted Amanda Waller? Yeah, okay, she was the liaison
between the
“I’m doing this as a favor,” Waller replied.
Dick took a deep, cleansing breath. “Thank you. I do appreciate it, but—”
“You’re worried I might try something?” Waller walked forward with a syringe in her hand. “I’ve worked too hard with your kind to harm the golden boy. I can just imagine the backlash.”
“What happens if it doesn’t work?” Dick asked.
Waller shrugged. “Then you’re no worse off, are you?”
“No, I guess not.”
The simple prick seemed minute compared to everything he’d been through. He waited to feel something—pain, a rush of heat, lightheadedness—but nothing came.
Waller slapped the opposite shoulder. “All done. Come back in a few weeks, and we’ll run a few tests, make sure your body accepted the changes.”
Dick pulled his shirt over his head. “The changes?”
“Your genetics—the change from the Joker’s DNA to yours.”
“Right.” Dick thanked her and followed Bruce out. “Why did I still feel like we just made a deal with the Devil?”
“I double checked the study myself. It’s on the level.”
Dick nodded. “I trust you. I don’t trust her.”
They teleported from the JLA satellite to a W.E. warehouse, leaving through an abandoned entranceway. As they came to the car, Dick was about to get in the passenger side when Bruce stopped him. “I want to change Powers Industries to Grayson Industries.”
Dick blinked. “What?” he laughed. “Why?”
“The government’s been asking for our financial records,” Bruce said bluntly.
“I know. I’m your CFO, remember? It’s all clean. They’ve got nothing.”
“Still. This will give you your own company, and—”
Shaking his head, Dick fell into the car and waited until Bruce sat. “My parents were circus aerialists, not corporate tycoons. Wayne Enterprises is your legacy, not theirs, and I’m proud to be part of it. I think you should finally incorporate Powers Industries into that.”
Bruce sat behind the wheel for a long moment. “All right.” He threw the car in drive and squealed rubber on the way back to the highway. “So, have you and Barbara set a wedding date?”
*^*^*
“One last push!” the doctor ordered, and Dick gripped Barbara’s hand tighter.
“Come on, honey. You can do—ow! OW!”
Barbara smiled deviously at him. “That’s what you get for doing this to me!”
“Oh, you want to start, don’t you?”
“PUSH!” the doctor screamed, and after a loud shriek (on Dick’s part), a baby’s cries filled the room.
“Congratulations,” the doctor pronounced. “It’s a boy!”
A few long, agonizing moments passed, and Dick brushed back the slick hair upon Barbara’s forehead. “I love you,” he whispered and pressed his lips against her cheek.
“Oh, you don’t get away that easily.” Snatching him by the tie, she pulled him close and held him for a full minute before the gentle giggles grabbed their attention.
The nurse laid the cooing baby into Barbara’s cradling arms. “So, what are you going to name him?”
He was perfect, down to the shocking blue eyes and jet black hair. A pang of guilt and jealousy swelled within Dick, but he forced it away. This was his child, like he was Bruce’s. He was a father.
This was his child.
“Terry,” he spurted.
“Terry?” Barbara never took her eyes off the boy. “I thought we were going to name him after my father.”
“Perhaps the next one,” he lied and touched the boy’s cheek with a gentle finger. “He’s Terrence Wayne Grayson. Trust me on this.” He winked.
Barbara finally prided her eyes from the boy to send a knowing stare at Dick, and she met his lips once more. “Fine. Terry. My father’s going to kill me.”
“You?” Dick rolled his eyes and situated himself comfortably against her side. “Try me. He’s got a gun. I know because he’s showed it to me numerous times.”
“Please. Daddy wouldn’t do that.”
“Need I remind you the night I came to re-propose?”
She flashed him a loving smirk. “Considering I proposed, it’s not really re-proposing, is it?”
*^*^*
“BANG! BANG! BANG!”
“All right, Terry!” Dick called, clamping his arms about the seven year old’s body and swinging the boy into his arms. “Guns aren’t to be played with. You know that, right?”
Terry immediately looked ashamed. “Yes, Daddy.”
“Your mother only wears one to protect herself and others, and neither Grandpa Bruce nor I need one.”
“Will I be able to do what you do one day?” Terry squirmed, and when Dick finally placed him on the ground, he started his karate moves. “HE-YAH!””
“Maybe one day. Don’t wander too far,” he called when the boy started away.
Barbara wrapped an arm about Dick’s waist as he dropped his arm about her shoulders. “I told you we shouldn’t have let him see this movie. It’s too violent.”
“Yeah, I guess you were right,” Dick conceded as they entered Robinson Park. “I just thought he’d enjoy a good cops and robbers flick.”
Barbara froze and tugged Dick back. “I’m sorry. Could you repeat that?”
Dick kept an eye on Terry, who now pretended to fly. “You were right. What? Do you want me to make a plaque?”
“And hang it over the mantle at our penthouse? Why not?”
“How about I just—” He leaned close to kiss her before his leg shot out suddenly. Barbara gasped, caught off guard, but she quickly pulled her police-issued handgun. Still, Dick was faster, ducking the sickle’s swipe and lunging at the attacker.
“Get Terry out of here!” he ordered. “Take him to Bruce! NOW!”
“Daddy!” the boy screamed, but Barbara swept him up in her arms. “Come on, honey!”
Dick punched, kicked, and forced Phantasm against the side of a tree, his leg positioned at her neck. “Why are you here, Andrea?”
When she wheezed, he kicked off her mask, revealing her aging face. “I asked you a question. Why are you here? Who hired you?”
She breathed deeper than she should have. “I wasn’t going to—”
Another kick. “That’s not what I asked.”
He already knew the answer, though clawing at his foot, she finally yelled, “Waller! Amanda Waller!”
Dick gave her one last hit, knocking her unconscious.
*^*^*
“BRUCE!” Barbara shouted as she burst through the Manor front door, Terry in her arms. “BRUCE!”
Less than a moment later, Bruce thundered down the stairs. “Barbara, what’s—”
“Dick—we were attacked at the park by Andrea Beaumont,” she rushed, keeping Terry on her hip. “He told me to bring Terry to you, but—”
The light that had infiltrated his features over the last few decades was more been consumed by shadows as Bruce took Terry into his protective hold. “Terrence, I need to listen to Alfred. Do you understand me?”
Terry took a comfortable perch in Alfred’s lap once the elderly entered the foyer in his wheelchair. “But Mommy and Daddy—”
“Your mother is fine,” Bruce vowed. “Your father will be as well.”
“Okay, Grandpa…”
“Why don’t you and I take refuge in the Batcave, Master Terry?” Alfred offered. “I do believe we have new video games to captivate you.”
“Not any learning ones, right?”
“We’ll see what kind of nasty ones we might uncover.”
“And what are you going to do?” Barbara demanded once Alfred left.
Bruce already was moving toward the study. “I’m heading to the JLA watchtower. You need to stay somewhere safe. I’ll have Tim accompany you to Jim’s house and stay with you.”
“Why? What’s going on?”
The man who had been found was once more lost to the creature of the night, and he growled, “Amanda Waller is trying to recreate Batman.”
*^*^*
“What gives you the right?”
The voice came from behind her desk in her office on the JLA watchtower, soft like the night but as blunt as the day. By the time she recouped and dug into her drawer for a gun, the voice had become tangible, clasping her neck and curling her back against her desk. The grip was so tight she couldn’t breathe, the emotion so thick it smothered her.
“What gives you the right to take my family?”
“You can’t cut it. That’s what.”
The hold never eased.
Amanda
rasped through the death grip, “You know I’m right.
“You never liked us.”
“But I learned to respect your place to this world, and your kind’s most important mission has always been to inspire. Make the world a better place. Look at it, Grayson. You’ve failed.”
“That doesn’t give you the right to destroy my family,” he snapped.
“You know as well as I do his importance in this world, and despite how hard you try to fill his boots, you can’t. You’re not him, and you’ll never be.”
“I don’t want to be.”
“But someone needs to be. Someone needs to carry on the mission when he’s gone, when he’s no longer there to protect you from your own limitations. A greater hero wouldn’t have let the Joker’s torture stop him. A greater hero wouldn’t have hesitated to take a mantle and the responsibility that Batman demands.” She somehow managed to laugh, slow and grating. “A greater hero would have known when he was being manipulated for a higher cause.”
Batman pulled a batarang and held it to her neck. “Give me one reason why I shouldn’t do to you what you wanted to do to my wife and me.”
“Because if you did, you’d be a lesser hero.”
The door slid open, slicing the darkness with the light from the hallway. “Let her go,” Bruce ordered.
“No.”
“Dick—”
“No!” For the first time, tears chiseled his rock voice. “You don’t know what she’s done, what she did to me, to Barbara.”
Bruce said nothing, only stood firm, his eyes unrelenting. Slowly, Batman’s raised to meet his father’s, knowledge burning between them. “How long have you known?”
“Longer than you’ve pretended not to.”
Batman scrunched Waller’s throat once more until she coughed. “I promise you, here and now, if you ever go after my family again, I will kill you. I don’t care who you are or who I am. I’ll become a damned villain, but I won’t let you or anyone else touch my wife and kid.”
With one last thrust, he let her breathe and pushed pass Bruce. He ignored Stargirl and Red Arrow when they asked what was wrong, and only once he reached his quarters did he pull off his mask, letting the tears course his face openly. He didn’t allow Bruce to see them when he entered, keeping his back to the older man.
“You were part of it.” Dick’s voice was cold enough to stop Mr. Freeze.
Bruce brushed it away. “Originally, no, and under no circumstances did I know Waller’s full intentions.”
“So once again, I’m proved the idiot. Who am I to you, Bruce? A sacrificial lamb in your personal crusade? First, I was your partner. Now, I’m your surrogate to impregnate my wife with your sperm, so there can be another Batman?”
“That wasn’t why I did it.”
“Then what did you?” Dick shrieked, pivoting with the fury even Bruce had never known before. “You agree with Waller? I’m not good enough to your replacement? You need to play God and create one? Make a clone of yourself—my son!”
“For you,” was Bruce’s simple answer.
“For me? How the hell was this about me?”
Bruce paused before he forged the distance and clasped Dick’s shoulder. “You wanted to be a father, deserved to be one. The Joker took that away from you.”
Dick blew out a loud breath, feeling, exactly, like an idiot. “But why your DNA? Why not my own?”
“It needed to be fresh,” Batman explained. “It needed to be alive, and we’d used the blood in the cave during the surgeries after your captivity. We had none that was suitable for the procedure. You needed a new donor, and I felt this was the safest way.”
Dick collapsed to the bench lining the windows and leaned back. “You should’ve told me, given me a choice.”
“You wouldn’t have done it if I’d asked.” Bruce sat next to him. “You would have never felt the sensation of being a parent, and…and I knew you needed to.”
“Why? You never needed it.”
“I never knew I needed it until I had it.” He patted Dick on the knee. “It is a feeling that cannot be equaled.”
“This, from the Batman.” Dick laughed before he sighed. “You knew I knew that he was biologically yours, and still you let me raise Terry.”
Bruce shrugged. “This was the greatest gift I could ever give you.”
“Bruce…just to let you know…” Dick rubbed the back of his head. “I didn’t always raise Terry. I…I’ve lived this before…kinda, and I first met Terry when he was my brother.”
“I know.”
Dick blinked. “Wait. You know? How the hell can you know?”
The door swished open before Bruce could answer, and Red Robin rushed into the room. “Everything okay?”
Bruce narrowed his eyes. “You’re supposed to be with Barbara.”
“I moved her and Jim to Steph’s. Now someone fill me in, huh?”
Dick smiled at him. “First, I think we need to discuss how we’re ever going to tell Terry.”
Bruce shrugged. “He’ll find out when the time comes."
*^*^*
The
Christmas lights twinkled inside the family room of Wayne Manor. The garland
was strung. The cocoa abounded, and the Wayne-Grayson-Gordon-Drake-Pennyworth
crew gathered. With the snow falling for the last three days and the JLA watching
Gotham, it appeared the
Not that any of them minded, especially Terrence Wayne Grayson.
“Mom, Dad! Look like Uncle Tim got me!”
From the couch in the family room, Dick looked through the French doors before rolling his eyes at the red sports car in the driveway. “Thanks, Tim. Give my teenage son his first aphrodisiac at the age of sixteen, huh?’
“Oh, don’t be such a prude, Dick,” Tim affronted. “I stocked the glove compartment with condoms.”
Dick let out a sigh and simply shook his head. It wasn’t worth it at this juncture, and he’d make sure to have The Talk with Terry again sometime soon. After all, that relationship with Dana didn’t seem to be fizzling.
“I honestly thought Bruce would be the first to buy Terry a car,” Jim Gordon laughed from a lounge car.
From the opposite end of the room, Bruce lifted a cup of hot chocolate. “I would have, if Dick didn’t ask me not to.”
“I can buy my kid a car, people,” Dick interjected. “I just thought everyone would adhere to the Terry-needs-to-finish-the-six-hour-training-course-manadated-by-the-state before getting a car.”
“Aw, come on, Pop,” Terry whined. “I’ll do it eventually, and Uncle Tim said he’d teach me.”
“Oh, did he?” Dick pointed two fingers at Tim before motioning toward his eyes. “I’m not sure how comfortable I am with that. I know how your uncle drives.”
With her head resting on Dick’s chest, Barbara asked, “Did you thank your uncle, Terry?”
Terry swung toward the older man. “Thanks, Uncle Tim.”
“Don’t mention it, kiddo.” He flashed Dick a derisive grin.
“What’d you bring me, Uncle Tim?” Matt bounded into the room, Jack upon his hip. “What’d you bring me?”
“I was thinking about a motorcycle, but I thought your parents would kill me.”
“And just where is my gun?” Barbara kidded.
Tim stuck his tongue out. “Anyway, I got you this.” The uncle dropped to one knee and handed the boy a glowing green ring. “It’s from a planet called Oa. I was told to give it to you, and eventually, you’ll grow into it. For now, I had one of its protector’s, a Guardian, wire it just to glow twice when someone you love is in danger.”
Dick’s heart broke as he gripped his wife’s hand. He remembered many times coming home from outer space to find Terry and Matt cuddled next to Barbara on their bed, waiting for him to come home.
Hoping he’d come home.
Eventually, once he saw the tears shimmering in Matt’s eyes, he gave the suit to Tim. The tears broke his heart, and now Matt would have a way to check up on his family members when they were away.
And…he’d worry later about the complications of Tim’s present. His son—a Green Lantern? He wasn’t sure how he felt about that, but for now, the ring would protect the boy. He’d take some comfort in that.
Terry, dressed in a brown jacket and black shirt with blue jeans, shot up from the floor. “I’m going to drive it again. I have to drive it again!”
Dick looked at Barbara. There was no point in fighting the boy. He had just been giving a huge toy and wanted nothing more than to play with it. Of course, Dick wouldn’t cause the boy anymore agony than necessary, which was why he winked at his wife and stood. He wanted until his elder son was halfway to the car before pulling on his snow boots and gathering a fist-full of moisture.
A grandson of the Bat shouldn’t have been taken off guard, but Dick couldn’t help but laugh when the snowball smashed into Terry’s jacket.
“Hey!” the boy yelled.
Dick shrugged. “Sorry, but to get to the car, you’re going to have to go through me.”
“Is that a challenge?” Terry baited.
“Oh, I think it’s a promise.”
“Then, it’s on!”
Terry fell to the ground and gathered up a large wad, throwing it at his old man. Dick ducked out of the way, rolled upon the snow, and tossed another. This one hit Terry right in the shoulder, but before the teen could retaliate, a snowball smacked Dick in the waist, pushing him to the ground.
“You seemingly have forgotten what it was like to get your first car,” Bruce replied, a smirk upon his aged face, a second snowball in his hand. “I believe you almost brought down the cave with your cheers.”
“I remember you taking away the whirly-bats.”
“You never got over that, did you?”
Dick tossed the snowball at Bruce this time. “We screw up our kids. It happens!”
He then focused on his son, who had made a mad dash to the car. Barbara stepped in, though, tossing her own ammo at Terry. Matt and even two-year-old Jack became part of the attack, along with Steph. Jim Gordon and Alfred watched, warm inside but smiling nonetheless.
“You think your old man doesn’t have it anymore, don’tcha?” Dick said as he pinned his son against the snow. “You have no idea, kiddo.”
That was when Matt dumped a hand-full of snow down Dick’s back. “And what’s one of the first rules, Dad?” Terry laughed. “Strength in numbers.”
Barbara stood in front of the car, holding the keys that had previously been in Terry’s hand. “You were saying?”
Dick worked the cold chips out of his sweatshirt before grabbing his younger son in a tight embrace. “Getting me wet, huh? I’ll give you wet.” He kissed the boy’s forehead.
For a moment, Dick looked up from his hold to see Steph, Tim, and Jack working against Bruce, even though the older man hadn’t moved from his previous spot. He somehow managed to still thwart their attacks, and off by the shiny car, Barbara pulled Terry into a loving hug.
And Bruce…despite all the progress Tim and he made, Bruce smiled—actually smiled—when he saw his grandchildren.
They were a family.
They’d all lost in some way, shape, or form, but somehow, they’d managed to cling to one another, and find a way to survive.
“Perhaps you would all appreciate warm clothing before dinner?” Diana asked from behind Bruce.
She ended the fight, then sprinkling snow over Bruce’s head.
Dick snatched his older son about the neck and ruffled his hair. “We’ll go out after dinner, all right? I’ll let you drive around the property.”
“Seriously?” Terry’s head popped up.
Dick kissed
the boy on top of the head. “Yes, I’m serious, but I’ll be in the passenger
seat, not your Uncle Tim. God knows you’d end up in
“I heard that,” Tim laughed.
As they reentered the family room and started toward their rooms, the doorbell rang. Dick threw up a hand. “I’ve got it.”
The person
on the other side of the door furled his eyebrow. “Miss Winston. What brings
you out to
“I have a present for you,” she offered as she reached inside her jacket.
Dick swiped a hand. “You shouldn’t have.” He stepped to the side. “Why don’t you come in? We’re just about to eat dinner and—”
“It’s from Mr. Powers—”
BANG! BANG! BANG!
“—Mr. Grayson.”
*^*^*
Barbara poked her head out of
her and Dick’s room, catching Bruce’s eyes as he exited his. “Did you hear
gunshots?”
Bruce never answered, only rushed down the stairs.
Terry joined them from the kitchen. “What’s going—?”
“Terry, get back in—”
“But Mom, where’s—
Despite Barbara’s interception, they entered the foyer to find Dick’s lifeless form, his already wet sweatshirt refusing to soak up the pool of blood forming underneath him.
*^*^*
“I’ve been wondering when you were going to show up, Terrence Wayne Grayson.”
Sixteen-year-old Terry whirled on his back heel, a black and red batarang still in his hand ready to fly. Greeting him was an elderly, heavyset woman with lost eyes and white hair.
“I’ve been expecting this day for years. Why don’t you put that thing away, take off your coat and sit a spell?”
“I’ve got some questions I need you to answer.” He obliged and followed her.
“Of course you do, boy. Why else go to all the trouble of breaking into the lair of the great and powerful Amanda Waller? Do you want some green tea?”
“I want answers.”
“Then you’re going to have to humor me. It’s been many years since I’ve had a handsome gentleman caller.” She pushed back a stubborn lock his raven hair and lifted a teacup. “Why is it superheroes are always so good-looking? Drink up.”
“I don’t want any tea!” Terry swiped the cup from her hand, shattering the fragile object against the ground. He looked away, ashamed. “I’m sorry.”
“Oh, that’s okay. I’ve only have that cup for seventy years. My mother passed it on to me. “
“I guess that’s what this is all about. Legacies.” Now, Terry took a seat.
So did Waller. “Doubt you can find
this pattern anymore. It’s real
“My father was ambushed at our front door. He was shot by his secretary with a poisoned bullet. His body was practically eaten from the inside out, and the doctors could’ve had more time to find a cure if they had a tissue match to regrow his organs.”
“And you’re not one.”
“And I’m not one,” the teen replied bitterly. “According to my grand—Bruce’s files, you were part of Cadmus and were responsible for restoring my father’s reproductive material.”
“I was.”
“According to my dad’s files, you didn’t believe him to be adequate successor to the Batman legacy.”
“I didn’t.”
“So you replaced my dad’s genetic material with Bruce’s—Mr. Wayne’s.”
“I did.” Waller took a sip, then grimaced. “I thought I was brewing green tea. Ah, no matter. Apparently, the pills don’t work.”
“Lady—”
“Patience is virtue, young man. You are your father’s child.”
“I’m not,” Terry snapped. “That’s the point. Everything I’ve thought true about my family’s a lie!”
“Is it?” Waller challenged. “Your father raised you as if you and your brother were his own. Bruce has done nothing but love you like a grandson, and you have a family that would die to protect you. I cannot think of a more loving environment for a child to grow.”
“But it’s not real!” Terry slammed his fist against the table. “Mr. Wayne manipulated my father and had his genes replaced, so you could grow a clone of Batman.”
“If you think that, then you don’t know Bruce at all.”
“Please. I think I know my grandfather better than you. Even when it looks like your call, it isn’t. Think about it. Bruce wanted a successor, another Batman. He planned it all from the beginning. My dad never had a chance.”
Waller laughed. “Then you doubt your father’s own abilities.” Sipping her tea, she leaned back in her chair, an appraising glare in her eyes. “Did you know I was the government liaison for the Justice League for a while? I met some extraordinary people in that job, but none of them were the equal of Batman.”
“No doubt.”
“I saw him save the day dozens of times with nothing but his wits, body, and will. But I saw something else as the years passed. He was getting older, slower. Soon, he would have to retire, or more likely, someone who finally manage to kill him. The thought of the world without Batman was unacceptable.
“So, I decide to make a new one.
“That was when I conceived Project: Batman Beyond, a way to recreate Batman for once Bruce was done. Before I could begin research with Cadmus technology, Bruce came to me.” Her voice softened. “He told me he was in control of his legacy, and he had someone ready to take his place. Your father.
“To be fair, I didn’t believe Grayson to be an adequate replacement. Intelligent as he was, he wasn’t your grandfather, and though he could fight extremely well, he lacked the instinct to do what was necessary.”
“You’re wrong,” Terry interjected.
Waller
nodded. “I was. I came to know your father almost as well as I know your
grandfather, but for all the good he did in the suit, Richard did more out of
it. As CFO of Wayne Enterprises, he helped to create jobs. He volunteered in
shelters. He donated to the police, giving them equipment to combat the dark
“But my father…” Terry rose from his seat and turned his back to Waller. “I know he wasn’t a perfect man, but he always put my mom, brother, and me first. I can’t remember a school play he didn’t attend or a holiday he wasn’t at. Even when he was out on the streets, he came home when Matt would cry to make sure he was okay. I really think that’s why he left the suit.”
“Your point?” Waller prompted.
“My point!” Terry whirled. “My point is: You and Mr. Wayne manipulated him to create your own replacement, and my dad never knew the truth!” His voice fell to a whisper. “He never knew I wasn’t his son.”
“That is where you are wrong, Grayson,” Waller affronted. “Your father was a detective only second to your grandfather, and he knew the truth the moment you were born. He was raised by two surrogate parents, and he loved you not as if you were his own. You were his own.”
Terry’s eyes lightened. “He knew?”
Waller nodded, her voice motherly. “Your father didn’t know how to tell you, but w/hen he was younger, he and your uncle were kidnapped by the Joker. Your father’s reproductive material was replaced by the Joker’s, and he feared the child he could sire. Your grandfather wanted to give your father the chance to understand the gift of being a parent. So, he gave his reproductive material to the project, hoping it would appease me.
“It didn’t. When you’re making a Batman, genetics are only part of the story. The rest is tragedy.”
Terry looked away. “When I seven, my parents took me to the movies. We were attacked in Robinson Park. I had nightmares for weeks.”
“But you had your parents to soothe them,” Waller replied. “The trauma would have put you on the road to becoming Batman, but my assassin couldn’t pull the trigger. I argued with her, but deep down, I knew she was right. People say Batman is obsessive, that he would do anything to achieve his goals, but he would never resort to murder. And if I were to honor all he stood for, neither could I.
“But as you know, Batman isn’t someone who can be manufactured. He is born to those who need him, to those committed and devoted to the prerogative of justice. Your father believed in the cause and so does Tim Drake. A person doesn’t choose the mission—”
“—the mission chooses you,” Terry reiterated as it became his new mantra.
Terry narrowed his light eyes and headed toward the door. He only stopped when Waller called, “You’re not Bruce’s clone, Grayson. You are his grandson.”
Terry glanced over his shoulder wearing a smirk only a Grayson could master. “I know. I’m a Bat, after all.”
*^*^*
“Where do you think you’re going?”
Terry stopped just before the hovering Batmobile. Dressed in his dad’s old Nightwing suit—a black suit with a blue bird across the chest—he turned toward the deep voice. Standing on the upper level, Bruce glared down at the boy, holding an old-fashioned candle and match. Next to him, Tim waited, neck-to-toe in his Batman suit, cowl in hand.
Terry straightened his back and met his grandfather’s scrutiny. “Accepting my birthright.”
Bruce came down the stairs to stand directly in front of the boy and tore the mask from Terry’s face. “You’re not ready yet.”
“Then teach me.”
“Why?”
Terry met his grandfather’s eyes squarely. “My father was taken from me by a lunatic with a God-complex. I’m not to going to let that happen to anyone else.”
Like Terry only saw once from his grandfather, Bruce Wayne transformed into Batman—minus the pointy ears. “If it could have been done, I would have done it.”
His grandfather was on to the second part of his crusade. Terry steeled his nerves. “I won’t give up. If I did, I wouldn’t be a Batkid.”
Bruce nodded. “Fine. I will allow it, though I believe your mission is unfounded. However, no matter what you discover or pursue, you must always adhere by the vow.”
Terry nodded once in return, a perfect mimic of Bruce’s, and raised his hand. “I swear to fight crime and corruption and never sway from the path of justice…”
*^*^*
The day was too weird to even comprehend, but Terry was making it through. To be honest, since Tim’s death and his succession to Batman, he’d seen worse than Wonder Woman, Green Lantern John Stewart, and his grandfather’s younger self coming to the future. If anything, this might be seen as hope.
Gathered in the old Hamilton Hill High, the old and new Justice League convened as Kronos’s timewarp threatened the world.
Of course, as Dick Grayson’s child, Terry couldn’t let the dark moments pass without some injection of humor.
“Batman, Bruce Wayne. Bruce Wayne, Batman. Or have you met?”
The two men snapped, “Not now!”
“Great. What’d Dad used to call it? Stereo?”
“This is a little weird for everybody,” Rex replied. “I’m Warhawk, Rex Stewart.”
Terry leaned back against the computer console and watched. It wasn’t like he was just going to volunteer the information. The less he had to explain about everything, the better. However, as Wonder Woman disappeared, he knew it was only a matter of time.
“She never left the island,” Batman said softly.
“Or she was never born,” Bruce added, his voice just a hint harsher. Terry briefly wondered if that came from all the years of Bruce lowering his voice or severity of the situation.
He pushed the thought aside. “Time is running out. Literally. For me, anyway.”
Static stepped forward. “What are you talking about?”
Old-Bruce didn’t turn from the console. “You know.”
“Of course I know,” Terry huffed, crossing his arms and averting his eyes. “What? You think I wasn’t paying attention during yours and my dad’s training sessions? I know how to hack, and when I found out about Dad…I found out everything. I’m really not your clone.”
John Stewart threw up his hands. “Okay, I’m lost here. How does any of this hinge on this crazed time-changer?”
“It doesn’t,” Terry affirmed and started out of the room. “Call me when you have something, Grandpa.”
John furled an eyebrow at Batman. “GRANDPA?!”
*^*^*
Terry honestly didn’t hear the man behind him before he spoke, “Who are you?”
He did his best not to show he jumped, but he doubted he hid anything from this young Batman. Sipping juice while sitting on a teacher’s desk, Terry shrugged. “Terrence Wayne Grayson. Call me ‘Terry.’”
“All right…Terry. Tell me everything.”
Terry gave Cliff Notes.
*^*^*
Batman blinked, looking about the packed JLA cafeteria. John sat next to him, equally as confused. “That all really happened?” John asked.
Batman took a deep breath. “I think so.”
“Then we won? Everything’s back to normal?”
Wonder Woman approached, her eyes narrowing at John’s. “That’s a nasty cut. Perhaps you should get it dressed.”
John wiped the blood from his head while Batman grunted. “You don’t remember going on a mission with us today, do you?”
Wonder Woman blinked. “I just got here.”
“The timeline’s been restored to equilibrium,” Batman explained. “We’re the only two who remember anything.”
John spied Shiera. “That…complicates things.”
Batman rose from his seat. “Yes, it does.”
*^*^*
Nightwing didn’t glance up from the binoculars as he felt the slight breeze. “Can I help you with something?”
“What would you be willing to give to raise your children?”
Nightwing dropped the tool and glanced back at the dark figure halfway across the roof. “Come again?”
“They aren’t biologically yours, but they love you like a father, and you adore them like sons. Would you be willing to go through hell for them to be yours?”
“What kind of question is that?” Nightwing stood.
Batman made no motion to come closer. “Answer it.”
“You know my answer to this obviously hypothetical question.”
Batman nodded once. “Give notice to your boss and your landlord.” He was gone in a moment’s time.
“WHAT!” Nightwing shouted after him, then blinked. “Oooh…kay. What the hell was that about?”
*^*^*
Thirty-Two Years Later
The doorbell rang before Christmas dinner, and Dick Grayson diverted from the stairs. “I’ll get it.”
Bruce grabbed his wrist. “No, let me.”
Dick hesitated for a moment, but seeing the intensity in the man’s eyes, he shrugged. “All right. I have to pull Terry and Matt away from dessert anyway.”
As Dick detoured into the kitchen, Bruce continued to the front door, first grabbing a small device from the cabinet to the left. Then, he opened it gingerly. “Hello, Ms. Winston.”
Winston
nodded. “Hello, Mr.
“I have something for you, too.”
He lifted the device, shooting a taser. She immediately collapsed to the ground, jerking with electrical pulses, and Bruce slammed shut the door. He found Barbara before she headed toward her room.
“Would you
mind calling your patrol units in
“WHAT!” she gasped.
Three minutes later, he entered he kitchen as well, seeing Alfred not only scold Terry and Matt about the manners of waiting until after dinner to eat sweets, but also a middle-aged Dick.
“And you of all people know this, Master Richard,” Alfred snapped. “You, who were raised by Bruce and I, should know better. It would be best to be an example for your children, not an accomplice. Now upstairs, all of you. Dinner is promptly in five minutes.”
Bruce stole Dick’s arm as Terry and Matt giggled at their father. As they climbed the stairs, Dick asked, “Who was at the door?”
“No one important,” Bruce dismissed. “We have matters to discuss tomorrow.”
“Well, at least you’re waiting until after Christmas.”
“I’m stepping down as CEO—”
Dick almost tripped over his own feet. “Wait. What? But Bruce—”
“—and appointing you as my replacement.”
Dick froze. “You can’t be serious.”
“You’ve
successfully integrated Powers Industries into Wayne Enterprises. You’ve
combated every social, economical, and political agenda that has been thrown
your way by the
Terry and Matt exited their Manor room, dressed in T-shirts and jeans. Dick glanced over his shoulder and shook his head. “No.”
“Oh, come on!” Terry complained. “It’s a holiday, a time to relax and be comfortable. We shouldn’t be all confined in suits and ties.”
“Ditto!” Matt replied.
“Dress shirt and pants. I’ll let the tie slide.”
Terry rolled his eyes and picked up Matt, heading back in their room. “Fine.”
Smiling back at Bruce knowingly, Dick laughed, “You were saying…?”
THE END