Story Synopsis: IMHO, what should have happened after Teen Titans’ Episode 13: “The Apprentice Part 2.”
A/N: I looked at
the Teen Titans animated Series to
have taken place after Dick was fired by Bruce but before Dick became
Nightwing. Therefore, Dick would be eighteen and living on his own (or at least
in
“Should Have”
The first time Dick entered Wayne Enterprises, he’d overheard Alfred’s condemnation as he peeked out from underneath Bruce’s desk. The valet had pulled Bruce aside and muttered, “That boy is now your responsibility. I will watch him when necessary, but he is part of your life. Make him part of your life.”
Bruce never had to be told again, and it was why while other youths spent summer vacations, winter holidays, and spring breaks at home or other destinations, Dick found himself sitting at the CEO’s desk of Wayne Enterprises, studying criminal law and police procedures amidst Great Expectations and algebra. It was the main reason Dick could say truthfully he had a good childhood. Bruce gave a lot of himself where many of Dick’s schoolmates hardly knew what their parents looked like.
Dick blew out a disparaging sigh.
He hoped Bruce hadn’t changed so much in the year he’d been away from
The secretary at the desk before the office perked up at the slow stomps of his sneakers against the carpeted floor, and she rearranged her glasses upon her nose to make sure her mind hadn’t fooled her.
“Dick?” the rather young woman gasped, and an instant smile crossed her lips. “Wow, look how much you’ve grown. I like the leather jacket and messy hair.”
With his hands stuck into the pockets, he smiled gracefully, remembering the tidy look he’d once embraced. “Hey, Sara,” he answered easily, though not as cheerful as he would have liked. “Is Bruce in?”
“Oh, you know, he hasn’t been around much these past few weeks, but I think I saw him come in today. He’s probably flitting around, getting to know everything again. Why don’t you go inside and wait? He’ll be along eventually.”
“Thanks.”
He hid his surprise well of hearing of Bruce’s absence—It was budgeting season. Bruce always stayed around for that—but his voice failed to reach the excitement it once did. That was what happened after a life-altering apprenticeship under a psychopath. Sure, it had only been two—maybe three weeks max, but it had been enough for a lifetime.
But if just for a moment, none of that mattered. As he opened Bruce’s door and entered the office, Dick felt he’d gone through a time warp. Though the carpet had lightened from a navy blue to more of a royal and Bruce finally decided on the mahogany desk, the office still felt like a sanctuary. As his fingers ran along the back of the chair, he saw himself flip over the desk and land ceremoniously in the canvass of the silken leather. If anyone was in the room, Bruce would make a joke of not being able to take the kid out of the circus and then send him a condemning glare—but nothing more. Dick would shrug it off and either start his homework or IM Wally.
Dick frowned as he turned his back
to the chair and overlooked the bustling city of
Why had he come here?
Pivoting, Dick turned his back on
the
“—been telling you, Lucius. I won’t be able to go tonight. I have a matter to attend to with—Dick.”
Dick found himself on the receiving end of a startled but relieved glare, and the younger man would have laughed at surprising the world’s greatest detective if his stomach hadn’t sunk and his hands hadn’t started to shake.
He really shouldn’t have come.
“Dick!” Lucius greeted with a warm
smile and came about Bruce to extend his hand. “How’s
“It’s…there, sir, last time I checked.”
“Bruce didn’t tell me you were coming or else we could’ve scheduled lunch.”
“In all fairness, sir, he didn’t know.”
Bruce took the initiative and put hand on his president’s arm. “Lucius, would you mind excusing Dick and me? We have some matters to discuss.”
“Of course. Dick, as always, nice to see you about the office.”
Dick returned his smile mildly. “Thank you, sir.”
As soon as the door shut again, he stuck his hands in his jean pockets and averted his eyes. “Uh, sorry about the sign. With the fight, I guessing you already know I was the one who—”
“Forget the sign. Are you all right?”
“And that device—whatever it was—I would return it, but it was destroyed during the—”
“Dick—”
“I promise to pay for them—somehow. It’ll probably take a while, but—”
“Dick—” A hard hand clamped down upon his bicep, and with his eyes closed, Dick imagined Slade’s hand once more entrapping him in his oversized hands, and he couldn’t stop the shiver from overtaking his body or his hand from shooting up and twisting the attacker’s. His opponent was better though, twisting Dick’s own hand about his body, and a sharp, stabbing pain almost brought Dick to his knees once more. This time, the grip barely lasted a moment before his hand was released, and he rubbed his shoulder, then his wrist.
He refused to turn to Bruce, even as his former mentor murmured, “What’d he do to you?”
“Nothing. That was just a reflex.”
“No—no, it wasn’t. You were my former…associate. I know your tendencies better than anyone, and that was a defensive mechanism to abuse.”
Dick scowled and whirled to point a finger into Bruce’s face. “So, that’s what I am now. A former ‘associate’? We were partners, or so I thought.”
“You left.”
“You fired me. What the hell was I supposed to do?”
“Go to college, back me up other ways not in the field.”
“You stopped even looking my way, like I was some kind of burden to you.” Dick shook his head and threw up his hands. “I knew I shouldn’t have come. I don’t even know why I did.”
As he pushed his way past Bruce, he grabbed the door’s handle before Bruce finally spoke, “You weren’t a burden.”
“…well, that’s good to know…I guess.”
“…What did he do to you?”
Dick glanced over his shoulder. “Why do you keep saying ‘he’?”
Bruce said nothing, only stared at Dick with a neutral expression. The boy finally rolled his eyes.
“Right. Just who did I think I was talking to?” He shook his head and leaned back against the door. “It…It was nothing. I’m fine now. I just—I guess I just wanted to apologize for ruining your sign and stealing from you. I wouldn’t have done it if it wasn’t necessary.”
“Why was it necessary, Dick? What did Slade want?”
Dick twitched a shoulder. “To train me in his ways, I guess. It was a training session of sorts, and—and I had to do it because my team—the Titans—they’d been infected with these nanobytes, and if I didn’t do what he said, he would have killed them.”
“And you eventually got yourself infected, so he would have to deactivate them or risk losing you.”
Dick’s head shot up; his eyes grew wide. “How did you—?”
“Because you are a worthy apprentice, and no one, even Slade, would wish to squander your potential.” Bruce turned his back and walked to his desk. “I should know.”
Dick ducked his head again. “Slade…He said some things that…well, that seemed so true.”
“Like?”
“Like we’re alike. Focused. Determined. At times, I don’t accept help from my friends and alienate myself from those around me. I can’t help but make comparisons with someone else I know like that, too.”
Bruce sat down and knotted his fingers after dropping his elbows to the chair’s arms. “So, he scared you. That’s why you came.”
“What!” Dick pushed off the doors. “That’s—”
“—true. You have to realize that Slade Wilson is a soldier, Dick, not unlike you. You were a soldier in my crusade, and I taught you to think like one, to rationalize every situation and make judgments. This business—it isn’t a game, and it can get you killed. We need to stay focused because we don’t have the luxury of depending upon powers. Though Slade has superior reflexes, he still is nothing more than a soldier, and at the fundamental basis, you and he do have similarities.”
“If you’re trying to make me feel better, you’re doing a really sucky job of it,” Dick replied dryly.
Bruce shook his head. “You have to understand that Slade simply saw what I did. You have great ability, Dick, and even a greater potential. Any good general cannot pass the opportunity to foster such a good soldier. Call it selfishness. Call it greed, but it is the truth.”
“Are you saying that’s what you did?”
Bruce met Dick’s eyes squarely. “It doesn’t matter if the reasons or tactics are similar. What matters are the differences—why you do this job and how you do it.”
Dick blinked as he let Bruce’s words sink in before his mouth curled into a soft grin. “You didn’t answer my question.”
“Neither did you.”
“Why does it matter to you?” Dick snapped. It came out harsher than he would have liked, but he knew why—the doubt. Why did it matter to Bruce? Why were they even having this conversation?
Bruce leaned forward in his seat and bore his stern, clear eyes into the boy’s. “You know why.”
Dick took a half-step back to gather his bearings and absorb the confession, however brief it was. “Yeah, okay, so if I really know why, then why did you—”
“Because
there are some things more important than
Dick blushed and ducked his head, as his hands once more found his pockets. Slowly, he dropped into the chair in front of Bruce’s desk, and after a long pause, he raised his eyes and met Bruce’s receiving gaze. He began the story from as far as he knew it, though he knew Slade’s vicious plan must have started long before he came into it. As he spoke, Bruce sat still, and his dark face remained neutral. He didn’t speak once, even as Dick’s voice faltered every now and then, nor did his steady gaze waver when the boy looked away. The only emotion he showed was the slight tightening of his knotted fingers and the slow narrowing of his eyes.
Dick simply vented, and Bruce simply listened.
When Dick finished, Bruce pushed up from his chair and placed a comforting hand on the flushed boy’s shoulder. This time, the boy didn’t flinch or attack. His glistening eyes rose until they met Bruce’s firm ones.
“I
would…appreciate it if you would consider staying a few days in
Dick nodded once and averted his eyes. “I…I would like that.”
“Good.” Bruce patted his shoulder twice. “Now, I have some business I must attend to. I received a lead on a case I’ve been working on, and I need to follow it.”
Dick stood and marveled again how after all these years, he still barely reached Bruce’s chin. “Can I help?”
“I—I would appreciate that as well but not tonight. I need to deal with this personally.”
What did Bruce ever deal with personally that Dick didn’t know about? “Is everything all right?”
Bruce allowed a small smile to squeeze through his stony exterior. “An opposition in the collection business decided to make a move on rare possession of mine, and I need to make reparations.”
“You collect? Since when?”
“I’ve been known to become fond of certain remarkable articles over the years. This is a fairly old acquisition, but it is nonetheless the finest. Indian descent actually.”
Dick shrugged. If Bruce wanted to speak in riddles, let him. “All right. I guess I’ll meet you at the manor then.”
Bruce walked him to the door. “And where will you be going?”
“I figure I’ll swing by, say hi to Alfred, and then see if Babs’s doing anything tonight.”
Bruce nodded once and opened the door, but before Dick left, he paused and turned, meeting the older man’s eyes. “Bruce…you were right, y’know. I came back because…I was scared. He said I would be with him forever, and…I was afraid he was right. And I never did thank you for what you did for me. Being with Slade, even though it was only a few weeks, it made me realize I never told you that and maybe never appreciated your…y’know, and when I was fighting him for the last time, that’s what kept me going. The determination that I wanted to tell you that—and the training you gave me. So…thanks.”
Bruce sucked in a sharp exhale. “Every Sunday Alfred cooks stuffed mushrooms for dinner. He always bakes too many and normally has to throw some away.”
Dick smirked. “Sunday nights, you say.”
“And Monday mornings he likes to make pancakes, buckwheat especially.”
Taking in the information, Dick smiled—the brightest and most true he had since arriving—and he realized he should have come home earlier.
*^*^*
In the completely dark clock tower, Slade’s eyes snapped open, and he pushed off his throne-like chair. “I know you’re here.”
“The only reason you do is because I want you to.”
“And just who might you be?”
“You made
only one mistake,
Slade’s voice lightened. “Ah. So, you’ve finally come. I have been waiting for us to meet. You began his training, and I will finish it.”
“You will not go near him again.”
“He is mine now, and he always will be.”
“You never had him.”
“Oh, really? So, what is this? A warning?”
“No.”
Slade looked up to see the rapidly descending figure with pointy ears and an all-consuming cape.
“It’s a prison sentence.”
*^*^*
Bleep…Bleep….Bleep!...BLEEP!
Dick shot up in bed and snatched his T-comm. unit from his end table. “WHAT?” he barked.
Beast Boy’s desperate voice shouted, “Dude, did you see the TV?”
“…what?” Dick rubbed the tiredness from his eyes and leaned his head back against his bed board. “No, I’m sleeping, which you should—”
“Robin, turn on the TV, man,” Cyborg interjected. “You gotta see what came down overnight.”
“Can’t it wait until later? I don’t have a TV in my room.”
“No, it can’t,” Raven replied. She offered no more explanation.
Beast Boy, however, was preoccupied. “Dude, how can you not have a TV in your room?”
Explaining that Alfred said the bedroom was sleeping and studying would take more time than he had patience for at six o’clock in the morning, and when Starfire implored, “Please, Robin, listen to us,” he huffed and threw off his covers. Though Alfred would not appreciate his bare feet and lack of robe, he slid down the banister and stepped into the kitchen.
At the stove, Alfred flipped over a buckwheat pancake. “Master Dick, what brings you to an old man’s company at this early hour?”
“Titans’ business,” Dick smiled and waved his unit before flipping on the TV on the counter. “Bruce still asleep?”
“The Master
returned just a matter of minutes ago. Had a heated discussion with a rather
unruly man in
Summer
Gleason’s face immediately appeared on screen. “—don’t know how the file came
to accompany
Dick leaned back against the granite countertops as the evidence became startling clear to him.
“Oh, you know, Mr. Wayne hasn’t been around much these past few weeks, but I think I saw him come in today,” Sara had said.
Bruce had known he was missing, had gone looking for him.
“—been
telling you, Lucius. I won’t be able to go tonight,” Bruce told Lucius
before telling him, “An opposition in the
collection business decided to make a move on rare possession of mine, and I
need to make reparations… I’ve been known to become fond of certain remarkable
articles over the years. This is a fairly old acquisition, but it is
nonetheless the finest. Indian descent actually.”
Indian
descent—
Dick had been right after all. When Slade said Dick might eventually look at him as a father, Robin knew the truth.
He ducked his head to hide the reddening of his cheeks and the soft smile upon his lips. “…Thanks, Dad.”
The End