Story Synopsis: Takes place before the last scene in chappie six.

Special thanks to Charlene for the cross reference from “Blood and Roses” nad Erin for the quick beta!

“On a Wing and a Prayer”

…I, uh, I haven’t done this in quite awhile. I don’t believe in giving up, in letting someone else do the work. It means I’ve given up hope and control, and I don’t give up control very often. Hope even less. I have this belief that if I try hard enough, if I refuse to give in to the pressure and the fear, then I will succeed.

But that doesn’t always happen.

If so, I wouldn’t have buried Barry, Ollie, Clark, Donna’s son…

Or Jason.

Years ago, You took something from me, and like everyone else in my life, I pushed You away. I decided to keep anger, frustration, and rage in my company, and I stopped being a bystander and became proactive. No longer would I allow or trust others to do the work that I needed to do. I would trust myself and only myself because everyone else was a liability. Even You. You lost my trust that night in the alley. Miracles and divine intervention became nothing more than the products of hard work and the persistence of man.

But You changed that. I don’t know why. What was Your purpose for me being at the circus that night? Others tell me it wasn’t for me. Others say it was for Dick and his sanity, but You know differently. You gave that boy to me to save my life because without him, I would have been lost to the abyss years ago.

He was my miracle.

But why would You go to such trouble?

Years ago, when Leslie would take me to Your house, I remember hearing that the only questions I ask are the ones You know I will be asking. I’m told questioning is natural, but You know I don’t question. I demand, and I’ve only demanded a few times in my life.

Why my parents? Why Dick’s parents or Tim’s? Why Jason? Why Clark? Why must You feel the need to take these people from me?

I never expected an answer, and You never offered one. I forged ahead, hoping to find the answers along the way, and instead, I found diversions. Bane. The Clench. No Man’s Land. Cain. Hush. Ra’s.

More tragedies, more victories.

But nothing prepared me for what I read in those Star Labs’ reports.

What was the point of that? A test to see how much I could endure? To see if You could claim this stray sheep?

You used Your own son for salvation of mankind. Would You use my son to achieve mine? You know that’s not possible. You know if that boy ever left, I would follow. This time, nothing could save me…perhaps not even You.

I know my son goes every once in awhile to see You. I know he wears his mother’s cross under his uniform during the hardest cases. He believes devoutly, something he did not get from me, and yet, You chose him to prove Your point.

I can’t do everything, as much as I try. I need help. …I need Your help. For the first time in a long time, I see no other alternative. I can’t save him alone. I see no hope other than death, and I’m forced to push my anger aside.

And turn to You.

For him.

I won’t let You use him in Your righteous cause to get me to see the “light” or to be “saved.” You want me to see the truth? Fine. Here it is: He’s an innocent, and You, a so-called benevolent ruler, are supposed to save those—or so I’ve heard. I won’t let you make him Your sacrificial lamb for Your cause to save me. I don’t turn to You today to forgive me for my sins or to “save” me. I come to ask You to save him.

I told You earlier. I don’t give up control or hope easily, especially when they are taken from me. What I will do today will save his body but might damn his soul forever. You can’t let it. You must forego Your futile attempt to save my soul. I’m already too far gone. I already know where I’m going, and today, I will damn it forever. I accept that, but I won’t accept losing him.

I will fight. You must have known that when You started this crusade. I will not just give up and allow You to take him without a violent resistance. You created me stubborn, and it is how I shall leave when I finally do.

I just ask that what I do has no negative ramifications upon him, that the sins of the father are not revisited upon the son.

“Dad?”

If You must punish someone, punish me. Take me, but let the boy live.

“Bruce? You down there?”

Please…let my boy live.

Footsteps on the stairs.

I’m sorry, but I can’t let him see me like this. Can’t let him know what I’m thinking. I have resolved to this option, the only one You have left me, and I cannot change my mind. If I allow myself a moment of uncertainty, then I will surely see how insane an act this will be and won’t be able to do what I must.

You know this. If there is one person I would break my vow for, it would be him.

“Dad?”

After all, You, of all people, know what it’s like to lose a son.

Amen.

Bruce pushes off the cold, rock floor and turns to hide the tear streaks. He leans over the Crays’ mainframe and just by simply looking at the boy’s reflection, he sees the golden chain about Dick’s neck and the bulge under the younger man’s sweater.

“Dad, I’ve prepped the jet. You ready?”

Bruce hardly moves. “I’ll be there in a minute.”

Dick casts a skeptical look about the cave and nods. “Alright.”

He heads back up the stairs, and it is only after the door shut that Bruce crumpled against the mainframe.

Lord, may he forgive me.

To Be Continued in Chappie Seven…