“Preservation”
Chapter Five
Call it the almost clairvoyant skills instilled in him by Batman. Call it the paranoia he received from Scarecrow’s fear toxin. Hell, call it luck, but Dick’s eyes snapped open, and he rolled to the side as the shot embedded itself into his pillow.
His first thoughts were to Tim as he rolled off the bed and took cover. The boy was only one room away, and if someone knew who he was, then they damn well knew who Tim was, too. Snatching his lamp off the end table and thankfully avoiding a bullet, he threw it with all his might into the wall between his and Tim’s room. A violent crash resounded, and he allowed a small smile to curl his lips. That was, until the door to his room whipped open.
“Dick! Are you—”
Dick lunged forward and grabbed his little brother’s waist, dragging the boy to the floor as another bullet flew over their heads. Rolling with the momentum, he brought Tim behind the hallway wall.
“Dick, what the hell—”
“Sniper!” Dick informed quickly, his mind already moving. “We have to collect Alfred and get down stairs.”
“But who could possibly know who we—”
A barrage of bullets came through his bedroom window and slammed into his wall, threatening to puncture the relative sanctuary in which they sat.
“No time to find out!” Dick put a hand on Tim’s back and forced the teen to his feet. Together they rushed down the hall, Dick’s body in front of Tim’s when they crossed the doorways. As they made it to the stairs, the bullets behind them, Alfred greeted them on the foyer floor. “Richard, Timothy, it is all over the news!”
“The news?” Tim repeated, his voice too high to be normal. “What’s on the news?”
“Master Bruce’s secret!” the frantic valet revealed.
“Which explains the upstairs,” Dick grumbled and shook his head. Okay, no time to figure out how this had happened and who to kill. Survival was the number one objective. Focus on that. Focus on your brother and grandfather. “Tim, you know how to co-pilot the Batplane?”
Tim shrugged. “I beat your simulator times.”
“Which translates in Robinese to, ‘Haven’t flown it once.’” A crash sounded from upstairs, and Dick shook his head. “It’ll have to do. Alfred, you and Tim take the Batplane and follow Alpha-Omega Two-Four-One.”
“Master Dick, you cannot be serious!”
“Now’s not the time to question, Alfred. It’s time to follow orders, ones he gave me years ago.” He heard the magazine drop, heard the new one slide into place, and Dick grabbed the key tray next to the door. It was where Bruce usually dropped the keys to the car he had driven that day. “Go! I’ll hold them off and get Jason!”
“But—”
Dick pushed Tim as the shot rang out, and he threw the tray up the stairs, knocking the gun out of Deadshot’s hand.
“GO!”
Thirty-two hours on his feet, and here he was rushing up the stairs, jumping on the railing, and vaulting himself at the second deadliest assassin on the planet. He guessed he should have been grateful it wasn’t the first. Then again, Deathstroke was the one who had started all this.
As Deadshot fired shot after shot, which Dick avoided by jumping onto the opposite railing and finally flipping onto the chandelier, he rocked the crystal back and forth before the assassin fired one, solitary shot to bring the crystals down. It occurred in mid-swing, and Dick aimed it perfectly for Deadshot.
“Cowabunga!”
The assassin scrambled out of the way, but his momentary displacement allowed Dick the distance to hit Deadshot across the face with a punch. Of course, without his escrima sticks, he only dazed the man. Dick formed a claw to deliver a worse blow, but a knife came down from the darkness of the hallway. He moved to avoid its plunge, but it still managed to snag his shoulder, freeing fresh blood. Dick whirled to kick, but Deadshot regained movement and swung his leg around to snatch Dick’s, sending the hero tumbling down the stairs. Hissing when glass pricked his skin, he slowly crept into a crouching position as Deadshot took deadly aim and Zsasz sauntered down the stairs.
“I have a marking for you right here.” The latter serial killer pointed to his arm. “And for your other brother here—” To his chest. “—for your daddy—” And to his leg. “—and for your little brother, too.”
His other brother? Oh, God. Neither of them realized who he really was.
“Over my dead body,” Dick affirmed.
Deadshot chortled. “Isn’t that the point?”
Dick gritted his teeth and vaulted forward, grabbing Zsasz by the arm and twisting it violently, gaining the knife. The murderer kneed him in the stomach, and he allowed the momentum to take him backwards but not before throwing the knife like a javlin. It snuck into Deadshot’s arm, causing the assassin to the drop the gun.
“Oh, now you want it to be painful!” Deadshot growled as he pulled the knife out.
Dick was already into his third somersault, while Zsasz jumped down the stairs. “It was always going to be painful!”
Blood thickened on Dick’s arm, and he fought past the pain. He accepted a kick from Zsasz with his forearm and felt Deadshot lunge at him. He simply jumped over the man and used the assassin’s back as a vault, but his strength gave out. Though he kicked Zsasz in the head, it wasn’t strong enough to do any damage. He just didn’t have the strength anymore. He had lost it one of the times he had fought Jason.
By the time he landed, he felt the gun targeted on him, but at least he heard the propulsion of the Batplane’s engines. Tim and Alfred were safe. That was all that mattered. The gun, the knife scraping along the floor—he would fight, but he knew the outcome. Taking a deep breath, he opened his eyes and aimed them at Zsasz, into the eyes of his killer.
This was it? Huh. For some reason, he always thought the Joker—or maybe Two-Face—would do him in.
Zsasz’s scarred hand took his chin and jerked it upward. “So, just who are you? I thought the Bat’s sssa—on would be here…” His hiss was like nails on a chalkboard, and his hand made Dick want to scrub his face with Brillo pads. “But you are not the boy, the one I almost had in the sewer years ago. The one I saved that special spot for.”
“Yeah, I gotta admit,” Deadshot added, “I thought you were Grayson until I got a better look.”
“Just who are you? So just before I kill the Bat, I can tell him.”
Just who was he really? He was the biological son of Ra’s al Ghul and Superman now. He was known more as Sean Madison than Dick Grayson. Even Batman didn’t trust him anymore, but that didn’t change the fact of whom he is, who he could still be.
They say in the last few moments, you see the past flash before your eyes. For Dick, it was the opposite. He saw the years before him—the ones he didn’t know if he would ever see.
He hoped he just would. Dick jerked his chin from Zsasz’s hand and spat, “I am my father’s son,” before pivoting to deal with the gun first. As Deadshot moved to pull the trigger, the massive front doors of Wayne Manor busted open, and a group of officers entered, all under the direction of their commissioner.
“Drop the weapons and put your hands behind your head.”
Dick recognized far too many of them. Bullock, Harper…
He immediately raised his hands and silently hoped one of the cops would shoot him. After all, how would he ever explain this to Batman? Freddy Loyd, known bartender in Old Gotham, arrested at Wayne Manor during a bust for vigilantes. How does this connect in twenty degrees, let alone seven?
Bullock trained his gun upon Deadshot. “Hey Fruitcake. Drop the weapon before I decide to drop you.”
Deadshot let out a snicker. “You don’t know me, do you?”
Dick’s eyes, fixated on the gun’s barrel, grew. The one thing Deadshot wanted was to be killed, to be beaten by someone else’s shot, and at this short range, with the chance to take out Batman’s son, he just might decide to take the chance.
BANG!
Dick lunged forward and grabbed Deadshot’s wrist, tugging the man to the floor and out of the path of Bullock’s bullet. He then kicked Zsasz’s knee, sending the serial murderer to the ground with his knife clanging upon the hard wood floor. Grabbing the hilt, Dick used his remaining strength to slam the metal against each’s temple, knocking the killers unconscious.
As he let out a sigh, Dick dropped his head back against his shoulders and haggardly climbed to his feet. He lifted his hands in a surrender motion.
“I won’t fight.” He grimaced and glanced back at the destroyed foyer. “I know it’s over.”
The commissioner’s hard eyes narrowed, and he lowered his gun. “Cuff them.”
Dick sighed as he remembered being cuffed how many times before as Robbie Malone, but this time, it was different. This time, there was no way out of Blackgate. If they’d come in before the fight, he might have been able to get away with a circumstantial plead. Freddy Loyd didn’t exist. They would never find him for whom he truly was, and capes and costumes—hell, he stayed one night in Wayne Manor. But by saving Deadshot and Zsasz’s lives, he’d just proven his skill. No doubt he was a Son of the Bat.
He closed his eyes and waited to feel the rough hands on his shoulders turning him toward a wall and shoving him against it. He waited to feel the hard steel about his wrists, entrapping him in his new life as a prisoner. He simply waited.
The cuffs clicked to a close, but no one touched him. He opened his eyes to see Zsasz and Deadshot ready for the paddy wagon, but he—he no one touched, except for the commissioner, who put a hand upon his shoulder.
“How long do you need?”
Dick’s eyes ricocheted about Gordon’s, attempting to see the veracity of the man’s message—and the translation. “Wuh—Huh?”
The commissioner leaned closer to whisper, “I can hold off the camera crews and the mayor’s office for fifteen minutes at the most. After that, I’ll have no choice but to come in here and see what I can find.”
Dick hardly processed the information and shook his head. “You’re letting me go?”
Bullock cleaned out a piece of food from his teeth and flicked it with his thumb. “Ah, for all that you freaks did for this city? We can give you a head start.”
He couldn’t believe he was doing this, but he gripped the commissioner’s hand on his shoulder. “I need seven minutes. In that time, please move your men away from the house.”
“Will do, son.” The commissioner tightened his hold for one moment. “And I didn’t even get to welcome you into the family.”
The shock across Dick’s face couldn’t be hidden, and he half-wondered if Barbara had told her father or at least discussed the issue with him.
Nodding once, Dick looked at the police officers, a small, soft smile etching onto his tired features. “Thank you, all of you, for your loyalty and dedication for the last however many years. I know Batman couldn’t have done what he did without your support, and neither could his family.”
“And the city would have been in worse condition,” Bullock replied. “Hey, it was a team effort, but kid? Just who’re you?”
Dick couldn’t contain the smile. “After all these years, Detective Bullock, you really don’t know who I am?”
“…Robin?”
Dick snorted. “The original.”
Flipping over the broken glass from the chandelier, he heard Gordon’s beckon,
“Grayson?”
Turning halfway around, Dick allowed the shadows to cover half his body. “Yes, sir?”
“Be careful—for my little girl’s sake.”
Dick ducked his head and muttered, “I will, sir. Thank you,” and dashed in the way of the study.
As he opened the door, his heart weighed heavy in his chest, heavier with each step as he made his way down to the Batcave. He knew what had to be done, knew what Bruce had told him to do. Bruce…? He was fine, Dick told himself. The last time he had spoken with Bruce, the man was on the JLA satellite. No doubt Bruce would still be there and maybe not even know the circumstances yet.
As he reached the Crays, he rubbed the spaces between his eyes. God, what was
he thinking? This couldn’t be happening. It was like one gnarly nightmare. He’d
actually had this one several times, but the outcomes were usually different.
Normally, he wasn’t in
“Some party upstairs, eh, bro?”
Shoot him. Just shoot him now. “Jason, if you don’t shut up right now—”
“You’ll what? Come down here and do what? If I bleed, you know ‘Dad’ won’t be pleased.”
Dick’s hands curled around an invisible neck, but he failed to squeeze. A level down and to the right, Jason sat in a cell, and Dick knew the boy couldn’t see him. Still, it just made him feel better.
“The imposter and Alfred left in a hurry,” Jason continued. “Didn’t say where they were going. Wanna fill me in?”
“No.”
“I want to know.”
Dick hardly had a moment to jerk and whirl before the massive knotted fist came down. He ducked the best he could and jumped up onto the mainframe to force his feet into the fighter’s stomach. Only once he had flung the body a few feet away did he realize who it was.
“Bane,” he growled and eased his bare feet back onto the cave’s floor. “What did I do to deserve all this attention? I thought you and Batman were on good terms the last time you saw each other.”
Righting himself, Bane flexed his muscles and stalked forward. “Now that your mentor’s identity is widely known, everyone will want to be the one to destroy the Bat, but that right is reserved for me.”
“Oh, no, you don’t. That’s my job,” Jason protested. “Dick, let me out of here. Let me have a shot at him.”
“Jason, shut up!” Looking for something, anything to help with his fight, Dick realized Bane took up most of his path to the closet for his weapons and costume, and he knew he was in no position to fight.
“Computer: Activate Self-Destruct Sequence—Five Minutes.”
Bane chortled. “A duel to the death, then.”
“No. Precautionary measures.” Nightwing flexed up his fingers. “I probably won’t make it out of here alive, and I’m not bequeathing you the Batcave.”
“We shall see.”
As Bane brought down his hands, Dick jumped upward, but it wasn’t high enough. A hand snagged his ankle and tossed him effortlessly into the monitor screen. He grunted back a screen as the class shattered about his body, and the electricity sizzled just next to his head.
Have to move. Have to keep moving, the voice inside his head—Bruce’s voice—told him, but his body wouldn’t respond as fast as he would have liked. Bane’s massive hand knotted in the front of his shirt, and his fist came down. Dick put up a feeble hand to block it, grabbing the wrist and trying to break it like Tim had done the night before to Jason. However, Bane’s bulk saved him from injury, and instead, he laughed.
“I expected more from his original pup.”
Dick felt his body become weightless.
“Of course, perhaps after my first battle with your mentor, I shouldn’t have.”
Anger rushed through Dick, but it mattered little. Both times Bane would win a fight against the Bat Family, he attacked his opponents when they were weak, vulnerable.
He was nothing more than a coward.
Bane’s hand snatched his body before it left his arm span. “How…How do you know it’s…me?”
Bane laughed dryly. “No other would be foolish enough to fight me when they know they cannot win—other than your mentor.”
Damn. He hated when people compared him to Bruce when his father did something stupid and were right.
A punch, a kick, and Dick’s battered body flung backwards. Pain wracked his back as his back slammed into the very edge of the level and rolled over the edge. He managed to grab the concrete at the last moment.
“Dick! Will you let me out of here?”
Jason. Dick barely made out the younger man behind the bars. Alfred must have decided to let Jason have free range of his cage, for the boy was untied, but that mattered little. He couldn’t get out without Dick’s permission.
“So you can kill him, too?”
“Ah, sibling rivalry.” Bane’s shadow cast over Dick. “I thought I knew of it, but I was mistaken.”
To avoid the fist coming down to free his hand from the ledge, Dick swung backwards, flipped, and landed before Jason’s cage.
Jason snorted. “I’m trying to help you, y’know.”
“Help me? That’s new.”
As he wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth, Dick looked up at the computer’s countdown sequence. Three minutes thirty.
Bane ignored it as he jumped the cap in the middle of the Batcave to land just before Dick. He attacked with a punch, and after ducking Dick managed a weak kick to the monster’s stomach. His thoughts and fears whirled as he failed to register any injury.
Was
this how you felt when he attacked you, Bruce? Powerless
because of your own facilities? Because of your own
stubbornness?
Bane’s fist bent one of Jason’s bars but didn’t free the younger vigilante. “Dick, come on!”
“Grrr—No!”
“Do not worry, little one. After I dispose of your older mentor, you will be next.”
Dick grunted his teeth as Bane’s forehead slammed into his chest and forced him against the Batcave’s pointy wall.
Three Minutes.
“Dick.”
“Unworthy…of my…legacy.”
He never thought of Jason like that, like Bruce thought of those who had taken the mantle after him, but now, after everything that happened, he was beginning to understand Bruce’s thinking.
It scared him.
“Dick, listen to me, will ya? Geez, I can help you.”
His kick hardly hit Bane.
“You trusted me once. You know you did, and I—I know you said we aren’t brothers, but—but God, Dick, you know that’s a lie. Families have fall-outs, their disagreements, and if you didn’t care, you wouldn’t have tried to find me last night.”
Dick did the only thing he could think of, grab Bane’s mask, and the hold upon his shirt lessened enough for him to break free and jump in front of Jason once more.
“Usually, family disagreements don’t involve murder.” Dick gripped his side and failed to hold back his cringe. Yup. At least a few ribs were shot.
“I’m not asking you to invite me to your wedding. I’m just asking you to trust me this once.” He looked away. “If you die in my presence, you know who Bruce’s going to blame.”
Dick spared a glance up at the computer. Three minutes. His options were running low, especially with Bane getting up and his own body failing him. Too many hours, too many compromises.
“No killing—ever again, and you go.” Dick fell to one knee and bit the side of his cheek to divert the pain from his side. “And you don’t come back.”
Jason let out a growling sigh. “You want me to make that deal just to save your life?”
Even as Bane rushed toward him, Dick kept Jason’s glare. “You really my brother? Then prove it. You want to save me even if it means a hardship on you. Prove you are who you say you are, Jason. Do something for someone other than yourself.”
Dick braced himself for the impact, for the fall, even as he saw the workings of Jason’s mind. The boy was torn—to save the brother he loved and leave, or just leave all together—with his brother. Dick knew exactly what he’d done—given his brother what he wanted. He could have company in death if he wanted. Jason finally wouldn’t be lonely anymore, and maybe, maybe a little part of Dick wanted that, too. The pain, the frustration, the fear—all of it would gone. He could finally breathe—
Bane’s shoulder connected with his stomach, searing pain through his torso and forcing them both over the edge and into the free air of the Batcave.
—but Jason never did disappoint, except when he killed.
“All right! Deal!”
“Computer: Open Cell One!”
The voice activation allowed the cell to click open.
As his back rushed toward the stalagmites of the Batcave, Dick stuck out his right hand. He knew, just like with Tim, that Jason was coming even before the boy jumped over the edge and threw out two lines, one to circle Dick’s wrist and one to catch the ledge. As soon as the D-cell line snagged, he let out a sharp cry as his ribs pulled. He still managed wearily to reach for the monolithic warrior, but Bane was already out of his reach. When his fall stopped, Dick watched helplessly as Bane plummeted the few hundred feet to the cave bottom and promptly looked away at the sickening thud.
“Two minutes,” the computer warned.
Jason grunted as his arms stretched out at his sides, one holding up the rope to save him, the other holding Dick’s. “So, let’s say we this party’s over, huh?”
Dick allowed himself to be heaved upward onto the platform. He rushed into the wardrobe room, his eyes flittering over all the suits until he saw the one he wanted, the suit he finally felt comfortable to wear. He needed to wear it—for her.
After emerging dressed in his old Nightwing uniform with a blue strip across his chest, Dick saw the countdown was down to forty seconds. He made his way to the docking bay, where Jason leaned on his own motorcycle with crossed arms.
“So, I guess this where we part ways.”
Dick took one look at him and nodded once. “Thanks…bro.”
“I didn’t do for you, all right? I did it for Bruce. God knows what he’d do if you kicked the bucket.” With that, Jason revved his motorcycle and took off in a screech of rubber.
Watching him go, Dick shook his head. “We already know, kid. It happened with you.”
“Twenty seconds to detonation,” the compute warned.
Dick took a deep breath and looked back over the Batcave, and no matter how much he wanted to push the memories away, he saw himself swinging from the trapeze high above the cave’s bottom. He saw Batman telling him to leave his key, saw Tim trying to give him his Robin suit back when Batman almost went insane after Jason’s death. He saw the Batcave after Jean-Paul had changed it so much. He saw Batman standing at the Batmobile, telling him there was no Bruce Wayne.
He saw himself signing the adoption papers.
Like when he first saw it after the earthquake, his heart physically ached. This was more than a clubhouse, more than lair, more than house.
It was home.
And he was destroying it.
“Ten seconds to detonation.”
He had no choice, Dick told himself. He tried to believe that, and he thought he almost did. Bruce never did anything without a reason, and if this was the procedure, then there was a good reason for it. He could question later, but right now, he would be the good soldier, the good son.
Running a shaky hand through his hair, Dick mounted his bike and revved the engine. Hitting a certain button, he heard the high-pitched squeal—the bats’ shriek.
He didn’t look back as he let the throttle go, and his bike zoomed out the Batcave, the bats flapping on his heels.
As the concussions reverberated behind him, Dick simply gunned the engine more and followed the familiar path out of the cave by memory.
He never looked back.
*^*^*
The JLA teleporter left the League outside of Wayne Manor on the back cliffs, for teleporting directly into the Batcave could prove to be fatal with Bruce’s collection. From that position, Batman was able to assess the situation, which characteristically arched his lips into a frown. Flash moved to run inside, but Batman stopped him with a hand on his shoulder
“Wait. Something’s not right.”
“I think we can see that with the police outside your house, yeah.”
Batman shook his head. “That’s the problem. Why aren’t the police engaging yet?”
“Maybe they’re waiting for S.W.A.T.?” Red Arrow offered, pulling an arrow from his quiver.
“No…”
The explosion happened so fast that Green Lantern almost didn’t have enough time to put up a shield before the debris came at them.
Dinah put a hand over her mouth. “Oh my God.”
Wayne Manor’s very foundations gave way, allowing the top house—or what was left of it—to crumble into the Batcave, an inferno destroying any and all evidence of the crusade.
No. Oh, God, no.
Push it away. Not yet. Fight! Damnit!
Batman wouldn’t sink to the ground, wouldn’t let his legs give out as shock took over. He couldn’t let it. He didn’t know if the boys and Alfred were dead yet, and he wouldn’t think that way. Not until he had the evidence.
He put his hand to cowl ear as Superman flew toward the house and disappeared into the fire. “Nightwing, Robin! Come in!”
A second. Two seconds. Oh, God. Please no. Three seconds.
“Batman? What’s wrong?”
Tim. Thank God. One. “Who’s with you?”
A second lapped. “Alfred.”
Two.
“Why? What’s going on?”
Batman’s knees almost gave way. “Dick. Jason. Where are they?”
Robin’s voice rose with his anxiety. “Dick told us to go ahead, said he’d take care Jason and the snipers.”
Snipers? Shelve it for now. “Where are you going?”
“He gave us the order Alpha-Omega Two-Four-One. I had to look up on the computer because I never heard of that one, but…you know what that means, right?”
“Yes.” The plan immediately came to mind, even as his attention diverted for a moment to see that yes, Flash had run to see if anyone was in the immediate area and Green Lantern entered the fire with his protective shield. “Good. Continue on course. We’ll rendezvous at the designated area.”
“Master Bruce,” Alfred interjected before the connection could be terminated, “what has occurred?”
Batman took a deep breath as the heat of the house washed over his body. “Someone set off the self-destruct sequence.”
“My word!”
“OhmyGod!” Tim shrieked. “Is Dick there? Is he okay?”
Batman swallowed down the bile and thankfully kept his voice steady. Don’t show them your fear. “I’ll let you know when I know something.”
He terminated the connection before there could be anymore interruptions, and he tried to focus. Damnit! Why didn’t they have any telepaths in the JLA right now? Seconds agonized into minutes for what seemed like days as Batman waited outside, wanting to be in there to see the damage, to see if there was anyone left.
No. He knew there wouldn’t be, couldn’t be. He’d created the sequence himself and knew its range and fury. The fire would destroy everything in the manor and below, including…
A blob of fire emerged the inferno, and the flames quickly died off on a blue suit to reveal Superman with a collection of bones in his hands. Batman came forward as Superman laid them out on the back lawn.
“These are the only evidence of any life that might have been down there, and even these were found impaled by a stalagmite—or it had impaled the flesh at one time.”
Batman watched as they were assembled, the structure and height too familiar. “Bane. He must have wanted to finish me before anyone else could.”
“And you think he ran into Dick?” Red Arrow asked, coming to kneel by the bones.
Batman shook his head. “No, I think he ran into Jason. Dick couldn’t have beaten him with his exhaustion.”
“There are two sets of tire tracks,” Flash informed quickly as he came to a halt in front of Batman. “Motorcycles. They seem to divert in different directions just before they hit the road, though.”
Three and four. All accounted for.
Batman exhaled, though he doubted anyone but Dick would have noticed.
“You think Richard did this and took off?” Diana asked as she laid a gentle hand upon her friend’s shoulder.
Batman looked up at the burning rubble that was once his house. The feeling he first had during the earthquake were dulled. This wasn’t his ancestral house that once stood, though he still felt a pang of regret. After everything—this was his home, his sons’ home, his father’s. And it was gone because of Luthor. But that bastard didn’t get his family, which was what mattered.
And no matter how angry he was, he couldn’t imagine how Dick, who had been forced to do this, felt. “He was following procedure, just in case we were ever found. There’s no evidence ever connecting Bruce Wayne with Batman. Luthor might have spread rumors, but that is all.”
“So what now? What happens to the Batman?” Superman asked.
“We rebuild, move forward.” Holding out a hand, Batman urged Superman to take it. “First, we put the past behind us.”
*^*^*
Even as he snuck into the window, Dick knew she would know what was wrong. Despite everything, the Information Mistress would know this one fact, but even beyond that, she knew him—Dick Grayson, Nightwing. When she heard him enter her apartment rather him sneaking in, there was always a problem.
“Barbara…”
Not Babs. Not today.
She whirled from her screen, her emerald eyes glistening, her cheeks flushed. He knew that look, saw it when they first reunited.
He was here and alive. Everything else in the world would work itself out.
It was the feeling he had every single time he saw her.
She rolled toward him, and even before she reached him, she vaulted out of the chair and slammed into his arms, which had lowered the moment he entered, the moment he crumpled to his knees. He needed this, needed to hold her and feel his body against hers. He hoped her presence would stop his palpating, but instead, it just increased it.
“Thank God you’re okay,” she murmured, taking solace in the curve of his neck. “When I saw the news, I thought—I was so—”
“Shh…It’s okay. It’ll be okay.” He held her tightly and closed his eyes to savor her hold, to savor her warmth before he would be left bereft. “Everything’s going to be okay.”
“What happened to your face, your…” Her hand traveled to his chest and to his stomach, gaining her a seethe of pain. “You’re hurt.”
“It doesn’t matter. Nothing else matters but this.”
“How can you say that? Your secret—Bruce’s secret—it’s all over the news.” She leaned out of his hold—No, not yet—and gestured toward her monitors, each one alive with the coverage. “There’s no way you can go back to being—”
He shook his head with a sad, pathetic smile. “Doesn’t matter for me. I wasn’t Dick Grayson to begin with.”
“No,” she whispered. Her fiancée sense went haywire. “Don’t say that, honey. We’re working—”
“We weren’t getting anywhere, Barbara. You and I both know that.” He closed his eyes and ducked his head. He’d gone over this moment a million times in his head since Alfred told him the news, and he still found himself shaking. Barbara pushed herself upward to press her lips into his, but he refused to return the embrace. Instead, he helped back into her wheelchair.
A broken whisper cut through the silence that followed. “…I, uh, I don’t think we should get married.”
Her hands tore from his. “What!”
“I won’t do this to you.”
“You’re not doing anything to me.” She rolled forward to grab his hand and squeeze hard. “You said you’d fight this.”
“What’s left to fight?” he yelled and pushed off the ground. “The JLA has been questioning Sean Madison for months, and he won’t budge. Ra’s and Luthor haven’t done anything other than try to kill Jason, Tim, and me, and y’know, that.” He motioned toward the monitors. “We have no leads, and…and I promised you once I—I won’t make you a widow, and that’s exactly what I’ve been doing for the last few months.” His voice cracked at the end, and he tried to tug away his hand from her grip, but she refused to allow him to leave.
“Dick, hence the whole point: with the good and with the bad, in sickness and in health, in richer and—”
“But there won’t be any of that.” Exhaling, Dick knelt in front of her and bowed his head. “I’m done trying to kid myself. There is no future for me, let alone us.”
She reached to cradle his cheek one of her hands. “Dick, do you love me?”
“Always.”
“Do you want to marry me?”
“More than anything.”
She turned and grabbed both of his hands in her. When she pulled his lips close to hers, she smacked him in the head. “Then we’re getting married. You understand me?”
“No.”
She paused. “No?”
He shook his head. “No. Barbara, there is no getting better. There is no getting over this, and I—I’ve been lying to myself, thinking I could handle this, but I can’t. Luthor proved today that we can never be safe, whatever children we would have had could never be safe, and—and I won’t drag you down with me.” He took her trembling hand from his face and kissed it. “I love you too much to do that.”
Barbara tugged her hand from his. “So that’s it? You just come in here and expect me to accept this? After everything we’ve been through, after the Crisis and the Joker, and this damn chair, now you’re giving up?” She grabbed her cup of coffee from the mainframe and threw it at him. “You hypocrite!”
The hot coffee splashed across his face, but he hardly flinched.
“Oh my God,” she gasped. “This has nothing to do with your disease, does it? You’re just can’t commit.”
“Wha…?” Dick blinked and launched forward to grab her shoulders. “Barbara, you know I would marry you in a second if not for—”
Her hand stung across his cheek. “You couldn’t commit to that alien bit—”
“Are you serious? The minister was blown-up!”
“—or even that Emily girl.”
“That was a case, and you know it!”
Barbara turned around and rolled toward her computer. “You couldn’t commit to me before, either.”
“You told me to go on that trip with Bruce!”
“And you went.”
“And who was the one who broke us off to begin with because she couldn’t get past the fact that she was in the wheelchair and felt inferior to another vigilante, the same one who raped me?” Dick yelled, his hands trembling in loose fists. He tried to stop the tears from trickling down his cheeks, but even masks had their limitations.
“Oh, just leave already. That’s what you do best when things get rough. A true Son of the Bat.”
“Says the woman
who left
“Go to Hell!” She whirled and tossed something gold and white at him.
Out of instinct, Dick moved out of the way, only to see what it was as it passed—her engagement ring. It flew passed him and out the open window he’d entered, and without a second thought, he launched himself after it.
The gold band and the diamond glittered in the moonlight, and he didn’t know why he just couldn’t let it go. His fingers needed to close around it, to hold it and squeeze until his fingers lost feeling and the agony in his heart wasn’t so piercing.
He turned to throw out a line and swing to safety when his body jerked and his eyes widened at the person falling at the same speed behind him.
“Ah!”
“Sorry, Dick,” Superman apologized and grabbed Nightwing’s wrist to stop his descent. “Batman asked me to come for you. He has a jet out at a private airfield not too far from here.”
Of course, Bruce would know where he was going. Resituating his grip, Nightwing nodded. “Thanks.”
They flew in silence for a few moments, Nightwing savoring the air whisking about his body, hoping for it to steal the aching in his chest, but nothing could soothe that.
“
Superman glanced down, but with his head tilted down, Nightwing never made eye contact. “Of course.”
“…Are you happy?”
By the slowing of the flying, Nightwing knew the man was contemplating deeply. “There are days that are dark, Dick, and recently, many have revolved around Conner.”
“Tim has a lot of those days, too.”
“...The boys were close, weren’t they?”
Nightwing’s eyes snagged the sight of a basketball court, still filled with teenage life at these late hours. “Best friends.”
“I…I wish I had known him better, Dick. Lex Luthor even took a bigger interest than I did. I should have asked him to come live with Lois and me, not sent him to my parents, but…there are days when I’m at home, surrounded by Lois and Chris and Kara…yes, I’m happy.” He smiled down, Dick knew. “Do you have days like that?”
Unconsciously, Nightwing gripped Superman’s forearm tighter as the tears plunged off his chin. “I used to.”
A pause.
“I’m sorry…that this happened to you. This is my fault, and if there was anyone I would never want this to happen to—”
“So, you would rather this have happened to Tim or Jason or—or your son?” Nightwing shrugged and wiped his face. Not in front of Superman. He knew he could, but that didn’t mean he wanted to. “No, Clark. It’s better this way. I can handle it.”
“You just lost your fiancée.”
“Happiness isn’t a Bat-trait. We take pain, tuck it away where we pretend not to feel it, and unleash it upon our enemies.”
“You shouldn’t have to,” the older man grated, his teeth clenched. “You of all people—”
Nightwing
patted his hand. “It wasn’t your fault,
“You were a child, a happy child.”
“And I’m an adult now, one who just
hasn’t found his place in life yet.” He grinned up at Superman, meeting the
man’s eyes for the first time since the ride began. “I’ll be okay,
Nestled in a patch of highly grown trees, a landing strip was bright with life as the unmarked Wayne Enterprises jet burned fuel at the edge of the runway.
“Dick, may I ask you one question?”
“Sure,
Superman smiled, but the brightness was lost to a frown. “Dick, do you think…”
Dick froze as Superman failed to drop him to the ground, and instead, they hovered a few hundred feet above the plane. Superman hesitated. Superman never hesitated, especially when asking questions. It just wasn’t in his nature as a journalist.
“Do you think you would have been happier if Bruce hadn’t taken you in?”
If stabbing Superman’s arm would have released Dick from the man’s hold, he would have done it despite the distance to the ground. “Do you think Conner would have been better raised by Luthor, someone who created Conner for no other reason than to destroy you?”
“…no.”
“Then what makes you think I would have been happier away from the one person, the one occupation, that saved my life?”
Superman began to lower them both to the ground. “You don’t know what would have happened if Bruce hadn’t—”
“Yeah, I
do,
When they neared twenty feet, Superman released Nightwing’s hand, and the younger man cursed mentally as he forced his hurt torso to flip twice. It was harder to force his feet to catch him. Stumbling slightly, Nightwing eventually caught his balance and looked up at the flying American flag. A persistent smile pushed up the corner of his mouth.
“Thanks for the ride.”
“You really love your father, don’t you?”
The blatant question should have shocked Nightwing, but it didn’t. “And he loves me. It’s just my job to remind him why every so often.”
Superman flew down until his feet touched the ground and after tussling the boy’s hair like he was ten again, tucked the boy into his massive body. “Keep safe, and if you ever need anything—”
“I know. I can always count on you.” Nightwing smiled softly. “I always have. I guess I’m lucky to have an uncle who’s Superman. No one else can say that.”
“Well, you are a special person, Dick. Stay safe.”
“Yeah, you too.”
As Superman took off, Nightwing turned to the jet and jumped up the stairs, taking them two by two. He entered wordlessly and made his way to the front where Batman sat at the controls. Taking a seat in the co-pilot’s chair, he fell into the routine without a thought, put on his headphones, and flipped a few buttons.
“Systems check done. Ready for take-off.”
“You okay?”
Nightwing tugged off his mask, letting his father see his flushed face, and strapped in. “No, but I will be.”
Batman nodded and asked no more questions as they finished the procedures and the plane lifted off toward the rising sun. Once in the air, Dick leaned back with groan and crossed his ankles upon the console, but Batman clicked on auto-pilot and stood. As he shed his cowl, he slapped the boy on the knee.
“Come on. You’re hurt.”
“ ’m fine.”
Bruce said nothing. He simply flattened his hand upon Dick’s torso and pressed. It took Dick’s energy not to pass out, and his tense if not neutral expression quickly dissipated to, “Okay, you win!”
Bruce always did.
After settling onto the couch in the back, Dick winced as he removed the upper part of his costume and snatched the water bottle off the table to the right. A moment later, Bruce returned with a first-aid kit, antiseptic, and gauze.
Wordlessly, he began to clean the various guts on Dick’s shoulders and chest, and Dick finally broke the silence.
“The wedding’s off.”
“I figured it would be.”
Dick spared his father his annoyed glare. He just didn’t have the strength. “Did you win the superhero pool?”
“No,” Bruce said firmly, “I bet that you and Barbara would make it.”
Oh.
“I lost fifty dollars.”
Oh, great. Bruce was in a decent mood. Dick gulped. Now or never. He was going to have to tell Bruce sometime, and well, it was better if he did now while the man wasn’t all shadows and darkness. He had been hoping his hands wouldn’t be shaky by then, and he tried to hide them by raking his fingers through his hair. “I—I, uh, blew up the Batcave and the manor.”
“You were following protocol,” Bruce said steely, beginning to dress the rather nasty cut on Dick’s shoulder from Zsasz. “You did what you had to do.”
“Didn’t make it any easier,” Dick hissed through the stinging.
“No, but if you would have left it intact, there would have been evidence.”
“Yeah, I
guess.” Dick slouched back against the couch, only for Bruce to hit his good
shoulder for him to sit up again. “At least I hear
Bruce’s face remained neutral. “I hear it’s nice year-round.”
Dick’s eyes lit up. “Did you just make a joke?”
“It happens every so often.” Bruce began to wrap the boy’s torso, which proved difficult with Dick’s squirming. “I’m sorry you had to do that. I—I never actually thought you would have to…and thank you for looking out for your brothers and Alfred.”
“It’s my job,” Dick said with a slight hiss. “Jason saved my life.”
“Versus Bane. Yes.”
“How did you—Never mind. I don’t want to know.” Dick scowled and dropped a hand to his now bandaged torso. Everything was now starting to hurt after the adrenaline rush. “I told him to leave and never come back, and he agreed to it.”
Dick saw Bruce tense as he began to clean up—Alfred would be proud—so the younger man let out the sigh. “I didn’t know what else to do. He’s a murderer, and he was in danger. I figured if you wanted me to find him after this whole Luthor-slash-Ra’s thing’s over, I can. That is, if you believe I can or trust me enough to allow me to.”
Never meeting Dick’s eyes, Bruce tightened his hands about the second first-aid he snatched somewhere. “Did you ever tell Tim why he was being hunted?”
Dick arched an eyebrow, even as Bruce pulled his head forward to look at his back. He didn’t even feel that gash. “No. I didn’t want him to scare him. I mean, I wasn’t sure exactly what Ra’s would do, and I knew he was trying to kill us. And even if I did tell him, that would just make him want to run out even more so to try and save me…” Dick paused and tugged his head out of Bruce’s grip, who had a knowing smirk upon his face. “Not cool.”
The smirk faded, and Bruce pushed the boy’s head down again. “I was the deciding vote to let you into the League.”
Dick’s mouth dropped open, and the word rasped from his throat, “…What?”
“The vote was tied. I voted for you.”
“But…why?” Dick demanded, working his head free again. “You always objected to me joining the League before, other than the time you left me in charge of it.”
“It wasn’t because I question your skills or abilities,” Bruce explained, fighting to put a bandage on Dick’s upper back. “That has never been nor ever will be an issue, but you must understand that the League attracts a certain caliber of miscreants. I am confident in your ability to meet these challenges, but it does not stop me from…”
“Worrying?” Dick offered with a smirk.
Batman ruffled the boy’s hair. “Being concerned.”
“Sure you are, but then, why finally let me on?”
Fidgety? The Batman was fidgety, his hands opening and shutting the first-aid kit. Dick knew he would remember this day but not for that.
“You needed this before…” Bruce looked away, as if unable to even think the thought, but Dick knew what he meant. He needed to be on the League just in case he died. He was born to be on the League, to take over for those who mentored him.
“And,” Bruce added after a minute, “I wanted to keep you close, make sure you were all right with this disease and being a target by Luthor.”
Dick ducked his head for a moment, gathering his thoughts, before he raised his head to grin softly. “Thanks, Dad, for, y’know, being my dad.”
Bruce nodded once and dipped into a pouch on his belt. What he held out to Dick, this time the boy didn’t hesitate to take—a JLA comm. unit. “Why don’t you get some sleep? I bet you haven’t yet.”
“Yeah,” Dick said, yawning and stretching back onto the couch. “It’s got to be closer to forty hours now.”
“I’ll wake you when we reach our destination.”
Dick nodded, too, and used his hands as a pillow. Relaxed, safe within his father’s protective watch, he had no problem teetering on the edge of slumber. He only held onto consciousness for a moment when he felt his father’s cape drape over him, a soft glove push a stubborn lock from his face, and warm lips touch his brow.
*^*^*
Dick knew of the destination from Bruce’s plans, but never once had he ever realized that it wasn’t a house or a town. It was an island, an island Bruce bought under a dummy corporation and had equipped with its own little Batcave.
As they came on final approach, Dick saw the new home, the new Wayne Manor, and it was a complete contrast to the one he’d grown up in. The white mansion was built more like an island bungalow with one large main house built of white stone. Attached to the main house by roofed walkways were the twin wings which reached out, bent at elbows, and then curved back. The main house and the subsequent wings opened at the very ends to the beach and ocean.
When they finally landed, Dick, after his ten-hour “nap,” still felt like crashing, but he knew protocol. First, the Bat Family needed a strategy, a plan of action for how they would handle the situation, and even if Bruce didn’t admit it, Dick knew, just like him, he wanted to check on Tim and Alfred, make sure everything was alright. Oh, and breakfast somewhere in there would be nice.
Accordingly, Tim and Alfred and the
warm
“It’s okay,” Dick soothed. “I’m okay.”
This time, the hand came up to smack his head. “What were you thinking? You could’ve been killed. You should have let me stay and—”
“Yeah, well, maybe, but it worked out all right.”
Tim threw him a lopsided smile. “Fine, that’s my new defense. ‘It worked out all right.’ Let’s see how well that goes down.”
Dick’s eyes narrowed playfully. “And if I remember correctly, you still have a punishment to work out.”
Tim flashed a nervous glance at Bruce; however, his adopted father did nothing more than lay a hand on the boy’s shoulder and draw him from Dick’s embrace into his own. It was close this time, too close.
“Might I suggest we retire to the residence, Master Bruce?” Alfred offered, a hand already ushering Dick toward the house. “It might be more comfortable and more private for our—ahem—scheming.”
When Bruce finally released Tim, the younger boy shot a knowing smile at Dick, who arched an eyebrow. Okay, there was certainly something neither he nor Bruce knew. Once they made it into the house, which rivaled Wayne Manor in its décor with marble floors and a golden and crystal chandelier in the foyer, he grew a knowing smirk, too. In the living room, which opened to the beach, sat a certain black-haired and emerald-eyed beauty in an airy summer dress. When she stood, she almost reached Dick’s eyes with her high heels.
“Hello, Selina. Come here often?”
Her smirk shifted into a warm smile, and she cupped his cheek. “Are you all right? When Alfred told you were—”
“I’m fine,” he snapped and looked away. He couldn’t deal with it blowing up his home. Probably never would, either.
Still, she pulled him into a hug. “Your father’s child. Always pushing away your emotions. And here I thought you were the smart one of the lot.”
With a kiss on the cheek, she moved beyond him and ruffled Tim’s hair as she passed the boy. “Hello, Bruce. Thought you could leave me out of this, too, huh?”
Bruce’s stony face never wavered. “I thought it was for the best. You weren’t linked to Catwoman and Batman. I thought—”
“You thought wrong. If this relationship is going to work, then we’re going to have to be in the same country at least.” She snatched the front of his shirt before flashing a smile at Tim and Dick. “Boys, you might want to look away.”
Tim snorted and leaned his elbow on Dick’s shoulder. “Oh, come on. We’re seventeen and twenty-five. I don’t think we have to…Eww…”
What started as a simple kiss upon the lips suddenly became something much more, and Dick muttered, “Get a room, people.”
“Young, proper gentlemen do not watch as others engage in intimate activities,” Alfred offered, “especially when there is breakfast to attend to.”
“I don’t know if I can eat after that,” Tim grumbled and followed Alfred into the kitchen. The open kitchen with granite countertops and even a bar with stools on the island mimicked the one in Wayne Manor, and it etched a reminiscent smile onto Dick’s face.
“Buckwheat and chocolate chip pancakes, respectively, Master Dick and Master Tim?”
Dick slipped onto the stool. “Actually, Alf, can I get a cheeseburger?”
Alfred froze. “A…cheeseburger, Master Richard? At this time of the day?”
The morning sun’s rays colored the ocean in hues of oranges and pinks, but Dick still shook his head. “Sorry, Alfie, but I just have this craving. I’ll take a side of buckwheat pancakes instead of fries.”
“Y’know, double his and give me chocolate pancakes instead of the stupid buckwheat,” Tim added with a snarky grin.
Alfred shook his head incredulously as the grill flickered to life. “If I did not know either of you better, I would swear you were both brought up as deviants of society.”
“Well, vigilantes can’t be conformists, can they?” Dick laughed.
“Look, all I know is, I seriously like this new house. I never knew this place even existed,” Tim said, leaning back in his chair to whistle. “I mean, this is like Wayne Manor Plus.”
“Says the boy who was born with a silver spoon in his mouth.”
“Oh, and like you weren’t?”
Dick took the sip of the orange juice Alfred put in front of him. A rebellion against his eating habits for sure. “Born in a trailer next to the big top.”
Tim ducked his head and took a sip of his own. “Right…sorry.”
Dick slapped him warmly on the back. “Don’t be. If I weren’t, I would be as culinary inept as Bruce.”
A hand slapped the back of his head, and Bruce and Selina came to sit next to them. “Are those cheeseburgers I smell?”
“Your detective skills ever impress, Master Bruce,” Alfred commented as he began cutting the onions to garnish. “So, what becomes of Bruce Wayne, his high-profile partner, his adopted sons, and his ever loyal valet?”
Bruce’s face darkened, and even without the cowl, Batman sat before them. “We get our lives back. While more people around us might know our identities, the majority of the public does not. By Dick setting off the self-destruct sequence, any evidence was destroyed.”
“But what about Luthor?” Dick asked. “He’s still told everyone—”
“Still, without proof. It is known that he and I are at odds in the business world. If he can cast any aspersions upon me, no matter how fantastic they may be, he will, and that’s the tack we’re going to take once we get some leverage.”
“What about your disappearing act?”
Selina asked. “You cannot tell me
Bruce sipped his coffee carefully. “Selina, when one is resting on a deserted, private island without any form of communication, well, one can have some excuse for ignorance.”
“So, this leverage,” Dick pondered, reaching over to grab a sliced tomato. Alfred slapped his hand. “Ow!”
“You were not raised by barbarians, Master Dick. You will wait.”
“Getting back on track,” Tim said, trying to hold in his laughter, “what can we possibly get on Luthor that’ll make him back off?”
A piercing teet sounded in stereo, and Dick groaned as he pulled his JLA communicator out of his pocket. “You know what? I quit again. I want my cheeseburger.”
“Superman,” Bruce said, his voice falling octaves.
“Bruce, do you or Dick know anything about this?” Superman asked desperately.
Dick cast him a confused look and shrugged. Know anything about what?
Bruce
answered for him. “What are you talking about,
There was a pause and again, hesitated. “The police found two bodies in the Memorial Park in Metropolis. You—You need to see this, Bruce.”
When Bruce motioned toward the door, Dick grumbled under his breath and jumped off his stool. Rushing toward the plane to grab his suit, he stopped and dashed toward the island. As Alfred dropped Tim’s cheeseburger in front of him, Dick snatched it up.
“Hey!” Tim protested. “That’s mine!”
“Hey, saving the world here!” Dick called back.
“Still mine!”
Farther away. “Possession is nine-tenths of the law!”
Tim whirled to Bruce. “Is that true? Seriously?”
Bruce only looked to Selina and Alfred, both whom returned his soft smile.
*^*^*
“So, you were in Metropolis two nights ago?” Nightwing mumbled through his cheeseburger. Walking toward the huddled Leaguers, he smirked as he remembered seeing the destroyed warehouse. “Looks like it was a happening party.”
Batman narrowed his eyes about the park, not seeing a trail of blood or anything leading up to the massive stature of Superboy. “About as much as the one at the Batcave.”
“…ouch.”
Patting his shoulder, Batman headed off to crowd surrounding one of the bodies, where Superman, Wonder Woman, and Green Lantern stood, while Red Arrow came up to Nightwing. “You brought a cheeseburger to a homicide investigation?”
Nightwing shrugged and took another bite. “I was hungry, and besides, I normally watch autopsies while eating cereal in the morning. Great waker-upper.”
Repulsion twisted Red Arrow’s face. “Freak.”
“Wuss.”
A flash of lightning crackled, and a moment later, Flash stood before them. “HeyisthatoneofAlfred’scheeseburgers?CanIhaveabite?”
Nightwing rolled his eyes. “Speedsters. Can’t relate to the common man anymore.”
Flash sent him an annoyed stare. “Can I have a bite?”
Nightwing handed it over hesitantly. “As long as you don’t—”
A second later, half was missing.
“—wolf it down.”
“Man, that was good. Is that Alfred’s? Hey…uh…” He slowed down for a moment. “You okay? We heard about the—”
“We were there when the manor went up,” Red Arrow corrected. “How are you handling all this?”
It took a great deal of strength for Nightwing to stop his hands from shaking again. “I’m dealing.”
Red Arrow sent him a skeptical glare. “Yeah, that’s about all you do nowadays, isn’t it?”
“If I didn’t, you’d find me at the
bottom of the
Flash clasped him on the shoulder, and the touch said more than the words did. It was good to have friends. “So, what’s with the vintage Nightwing uniform?”
“Yeah.”
Nightwing shrugged. “Oracle likes it.”
“So, you finally gave in to her, huh? So, when am I getting my invitation into the wedding party?”
“Yeah and mine?” Flash chirped.
Nightwing stopped in mid-bite and shrugged. “Wedding’s off.”
Blank stares met his declaration before, “What? Are you freakin’ serious?” Red Arrow exploded. “What did you do?”
Nightwing growled and headed off in the direction Batman went. “Luthor exposed our identities. I blew up the Batcave and am now living in another country, and oh, yeah, I still have less than a year to live. Sounds like a great way to start the rest of our lives together.” Walking up to the crouching Batman, he almost dropped the final bites of his cheeseburger. “I—Is that…Is that who I think it is?”
Superman nodded. “Confirmed by the police already.”
“Luthor,” Batman growled.
At Superboy’s feet lay a contorted Lex Luthor, a sword stuck in his chest, his turtleneck and pants coated with blood, which fed into a sickening pool about the body. Nightwing saw his father’s eyes watching him closely, and the younger man couldn’t honestly say he didn’t feel some vindication, even though this wasn’t how he wanted it. He wanted to be the one to put Luthor behind bars.
Nightwing shook his head and handed the rest of his sandwich to Flash. “It can’t be a coincidence that someone killed Luthor the day after he releases our secret. You think someone’s trying to frame us?”
“No.” Batman pointed to Luthor’s chest. “Does the blade look familiar?”
Nightwing crouched down and narrowed his eyes. “Yeah. It’s the one those ninjas who tried to kill Jason were using.”
“Exactly.”
“Which traces it back to the League of Assassins,” Nightwing growled. “Ra’s or Talia wanted to stop Luthor from destroying your life, it seems. Funny how they can be deadly yet protective, and here I thought you were on their bad side.”
The glare he received almost burned as furious as Superman’s laser eyes. “You still haven’t recovered from your forty-hour marathon. You should do some scouting.” He quickly diverted it to Green Lantern. “Did the police check for any fingerprints?”
“No one likes scouting…” Nightwing squinted even more so as he looked at the weapon, the entry wound, and the chest. “This is wrong.”
“Looks like the only prints here are Luthor’s or Mercy’s.” Green Lantern sent Batman a sympathetic smile and pointed to Nightwing. “You want me to do a ring scan on him? Make sure everything’s in order?”
“Try it and lose your ring hand.” Nightwing’s glare was more exasperated than the darkness of the Bat before it fell once more. “The position of the sword—it’s too low to be aimed at the chest, yet most of the blood…” He reached over tentatively to tear away Luthor’s sweat and reveal another hole through where the man’s heart would have been—a laser wound. “The sword’s to let us know who to thank or to cover up the evidence.”
“But Luthor wasn’t killed here,” Batman interjected. “The amount of blood from an injury of this magnitude should be more than this.”
“Someone killed Luthor and dumped his body here?” Wonder Woman questioned. “Why?”
“And Luthor doesn’t look like he was restrained. It must have been someone Luthor trusted because the size of that wound. The person must have been close,” Nightwing said before standing and looking around. “And where’s Mercy? She wouldn’t be anywhere her boss isn’t. Is she the second body?”
“No,” Green Lantern said after a moment. “We actually can’t identify the second body.”
“Then lead on.”
Superman flew up, grabbing Batman’s hand and headed toward an upper part of park where most of the trees had been buried after the attack. Nightwing followed behind, holding onto Wonder Woman’s hand, while Green Lantern created a standing gurney for Red Arrow and Flash.
Nightwing couldn’t see much through the trees, though the gruesome sight of Luthor lingered in his mind. Only one person could have done that…He must have shivered or something, for tender, angelic fingers swept across his forehead, whisking his bangs. He smiled up at Wonder Woman, but he knew the expression wasn’t half as confident as he would have liked.
The motion continued, and he thought just to distract him as Superman dropped Batman before a body impaled by a flagpole. Blood dribbled from a hole in his forehead, a gunshot wound this time, and just the sight of the person drove Batman order Superman, “Get Nightwing out of here. Now!”
“Why?” Nightwing asked as Wonder Woman hovered about ten feet above the ground. A pang of fear snagged him at the desperation in his father’s voice, but it wasn’t enough for him to leave. “What could possibly be that—”
The boy’s eyes grew instantly as he spotted the body between his two mentors, and his breathing increased to the point of almost hyperventilation. His hand loosened from around Wonder Woman’s forearm, and he would have crashed to the ground if Wonder Woman wouldn’t have had super speed and caught him before slowly easing him to the grass.
“You know this man, Richard?” she asked.
Nightwing’s knees buckled underneath him as he looked up at his father, realization glistening in both their eyes. “It’s Franklin Madison…”
To Be Continued…