Disclaimer: All the characters in the story belong to DC Comics, and they also 
belong to the fine folks at Warner Brothers. I stake to claim to them, and I am 
not intending to infringe upon any copyrights. 

Summary: As everything draws near to an end, Tim arranges a gathering to talk 
about the future, to think about the past, and to play Monopoly.
Notes: Ah, first person narrative. Gotta love it. ;) By the way, (if anyone is 
wondering) future installments of "Home Again" is with my wonderful (and 
hardworking) beta. 

*** 

Monopoly and Life
by BK (bkeleven11@yahoo.com)

***

A soft laugh from my right filled the room. Funny, you wouldn't think of a laugh 
that would be so big that it would permeated through a large room, such as this 
one is, but this breathless chuckle does just that. Maybe it is because the room 
is so empty, the boxes haven't been unpacked yet, and only half of the furniture 
is arranged in the proper places. The rest is shoved off to one side. I'll 
probably be the one to help her unpack all of this tomorrow. 

The dim light flickered and danced against the shadows on the walls, it was mood 
lighting. Crowded around the low coffee table, sat the four us. With clear and 
sharp eyes, we all waited, and watched. Comfortable silence pervaded the room; 
there wasn't much talking usually, just the light weight of quiet settling above 
us, as if words would just be superfluous. There was no need for words, because 
this was nice. It was calm, and fun, and it was something I hadn't done in a 
long time. And I never thought I'd be doing it with Batgirl, Batman, and his 
faithful butler, Alfred. 

I used to hate Monopoly, used to think it was a boring game. For one thing, I 
never won (in the event that a game was actually finished). I knew a kid once 
who was enraptured with this, Simon Cartman. For some reason, he loved this 
game, the buying and selling of real estate. We all saw the power hungry stare 
he had on him, the vicious gleam in his eyes that made him all the more 
laughable. He used to get really mad whenever Jimmy Watson and I made an 
"illegal barter," as he called it. Simon Cartman is frantically planning to be 
some sort of business major, I think, at least that's what I heard last time I 
called up Jimmy. Jimmy also said Simon had the next five years of his life 
planned out to the minute. 

Monopoly is still dull. Still boring. But here I am, and I never thought I'd 
ever be here. With Barbara to my right, Alfred to my left, and Bruce across from 
me. Very weird, but not altogether unpleasant. In fact, I think it's abso-
freakin-tastic. 

This morning, I was helping Barb pack up all her stuff, because she's moving 
across town. It was some old long convoluted story about a mice infestation and 
a lazy superintendent. She gave me full access to all her stuff, which was nice, 
the trust she had in me, but in actuality, her stuff wasn't all that scandalous. 
The most shocking thing was the pair of handcuffs in her nightstand drawer. She 
had just looked over at me curiously, probably wondering what I was laughing at, 
and she casually shrugged, and continued packing. Although I teased her a whole 
lot, about those cuffs being in her nightstand, I knew it was the honest-to-God 
truth when she told me that her dad gave her a pair to play with after she saw a 
David Copperfield special on T.V. for the first time when she was seven years 
old. 

When I dug this old board out from underneath Barbara's bed, I asked her if I 
could have it. She said, "Sure squirt, if you really want it." Always squirt. 
Always the smallest of the whole bunch. When will it end? I had stood up to my 
full height then, and she just rolled her eyes at the male posturing. "You'll 
always be my squirt." And then she gave me a fierce hug. I grew a little misty 
eyed at that, just the slightest bit, barely at all . . . but yeah, nevermind. 

It took me all day to convince her. And it took the both of us to trick Bruce 
into it. And then we just asked him to bring Alfred along. So here we are, 
christening Barbara's new place by a rousing game of Monopoly. I had dimmed the 
lights, for ambience, and Barbara lit the candles, also for ambience. Alfred had 
said, 'Are we summoning the dead, Master Tim?' in that subtle half-smile way of 
his. Alfred's funny. 

I had called Dick earlier, but couldn't reach him. So I left a message on his 
machine. That was this morning, and he never called back, and he never showed 
up. So maybe he hasn't checked his messages, or maybe he's really busy, or 
tired. It's too bad, it would've been nice to have everyone here, and Dick had 
been getting along pretty well with everyone as of late, especially Bruce. 
Barbara didn't mind too much when I asked if could leave her new address on 
Dick's machine, but maybe she was too absorbed in that purple grape juice stain 
on her new (as formerly pristine) white couch cushion. We didn't get a chance to 
move her furniture around because that whole morning was spent with trying to 
get that stupid stain out. 

We tried every kind soap she had, even the watermelon bubble bath stuff, but 
they didn't work. But when I got out the bleach, she positively freaked. I saw 
no harm in it, I mean, her couch *is* white . . . so bleach is not so bad with 
white. In fact, it was made for white! I told her so, too. She didn't agree. She 
just threw her hands up and told me to go home. Women. 

Barb jumped up from her seat. "Ha! Suckers!" and killed the nice quietness in 
one fell swoop. "Who's got Park Place?" She looked around in fake wonderment, "I 
got it!" 

Bruce frowned, looked at the dice, and recounted her moves. "You don't have 
Boardwalk, though." He grinned slightly, as if he has got the upper hand, or 
something. 

"But, oh dear Mr. Wayne, sir, I know you, of all people, have noticed that 
*nobody* has Boardwalk. Just you wait." 

"Yes, wait for me to snatch it right up." 

She scoffed. "You talk big. Why don't you put your money where your mouth is." 

"Are you serious?" He paused, thinking for a moment, "how much?" 

"One thousand bucks!" 

"You sure?" Bruce raised a brow. 

"I can afford it." 

"Fine." 

"Fine!" 

They each reached down into their respective money piles. Bruce pulled out two 
orange five-hundred dollar bills, and Barbara, just to annoy Bruce, counted all 
her ones, and then all her fives, her twenties, finally she placed four one 
hundred dollar bills on top of the thick stack. They shoved the money off to the 
side and turned their attention back to the board. 

During their little exchange, I glanced over at Alfred, nodded, and rolled the 
dice. Due to an earlier incident with Barbara accusing me of tampering with my 
outcome, (which, in all honesty, I did, because they weren't looking) I always 
made sure that at least one person sees me roll the dice. Eleven. 

"I got Boardwalk!" Triumph! 

"No, you don't," Barbara said instinctively. Just like Bruce had a few minutes 
ago, she ran her eyes over the dice, and then the board. I have to admit to a 
certain bit of satisfaction when her face twisted into disgust. "Did anyone see 
him roll?" 

"I did, Miss Gordon, and Master Timothy certainly did get Boardwalk." Alfred 
looked victorious, like he had just accomplished something great. I think, with 
all the yelling and arguing that Bruce and Barbara did over Boardwalk earlier, 
he was glad that I got it. 

I made a reach for the two thousand dollar stack. 

"What do you think you're doing?" Bruce asked, clamping my hand down with his 
bigger one. 

"Getting the cash," as if it was the most obvious thing in the whole world. 

"No way, buddy-boy. You weren't in on the deal." 

"Barb! What do you mean, I thought-" 

"Did you put in a grand like we did?" 

"No, but--" 

"That's what I thought!" 

"--I'll put it in now." 

"That doesn't count." 

"What's the difference?" 

"Oh, there's a big difference." 

"Huh?" 

"You're such a cheater, Tim." 

Did she just call me a cheater? "Me?" 

"Yeah! Earlier with that dice rolly thing, and now you're--" 

"Stop." 

That last one was Bruce. He grabbed the pile, took back his two orange bills, 
and gave the rest back to Barb. She sighed and went about rearranging her cash. 

I crossed my arms and sank back down. "It's not like I need it anyways. I got 
Boardwalk!" I waved the card in front of their faces with a smug smile on mine. 

"Look, Tim," Barb's voice was saccharine sweet. Very suspicious. "I'll give 
you," she glanced down at her cards, "All of my blue ones and all of these 
orange ones for Boardwalk." 

I looked at her as if she was off her rocker. "No way." 

"What? Come on! You'd get two monopolies that way!" 

"You two can't trade like that. It's not in the rules." Funny. That was first 
time ever that Bruce had ever reminded me of someone else. And I always thought 
he would remind me of Dick, or Alfred, or even Barbara. But never did I 
entertain the possibility of him reminding me of annoying Simon Cartman and his 
insipid whining about proper game etiquette. 

I laughed, and they all turned to me. I didn't try to explain it to them, they 
wouldn't have understood. 

After a bit, Barbara went back to it and held up all her cards, "Tell you what. 
I'll let you pick five, Timothy. Five! And I'll pay you two thousand dollars on 
top of that." 

"But you only have seven cards, Barb." 

She had this crazed look in her eyes, "I can work with that!" 

"You won't have enough to buy any property with, Miss Gordon," Alfred said 
sensibly. 

"That's okay!" 

"No!" She made a reach for Boardwalk, and I pulled back. "Hey! Get off me, 
woman!" 

She clasped her hands together, practically kneeling in front of me. "Please, 
Tim." 

"Geez, this is so beneath you. Begging? Honestly, Barb." 

"Please, Tim?" 

I shook my head and Bruce sighed loudly, "He said no, Barbara. No." He drew out 
the last syllable tauntingly, but it just sounded so creepy when he did that. 
Barb didn't freak out, she just turned on him with a sharp glare. 

Bruce just shrugged, not a flinch or anything. "Well, I'm just repeating what he 
already said." 

"Yes! Thank you, Bruce." 

Bruce nodded condescendingly in Barb's direction. 

She ignored him. "Don't let them poison you, Tim. You and me, we can take it 
all." 

Alfred raised his brow at that comment. Bruce, this time, did stiffen a bit, 
maybe he was holding in laughter, maybe he was starting to get spooked by her 
competitiveness, who knows? I just gawked at her in that way she hates. "You're 
absolutely nuts, Barb. Chill out, it's just a game." 

"Yeah, I know that," she said huffily. 

I didn't respond because I didn't know whether to laugh or keep arguing with 
her. Bruce decided for me when he grabbed the dice and tossed it over to Alfred. 
Alfred demurely pick up the two pieces. I don't know what it is exactly, but 
dice in Alfred's hands looks uncomfortably freakish. In truth, Alfred sucks at 
monopoly (and every other board game for that matter). Alfred is one of the 
smartest people I know, but he doesn't have the viciousness that it takes to 
play. Barbara and I already took two of his railroads. We just acted sweet and 
asked nicely, and he fell for it right away. Because to him, it was all just a 
friendly game, and it didn't matter if he won or lost. 

Alfred rolled and landed on Community chest. "I just won ten dollars in a beauty 
pageant," he read, "well, that's very nice." 

"I always knew you had the legs, Alfred." 

I swiveled my head around and there, on the windowsill, sat Dick in his civvies. 
His had three pizzas in one hand and a case of soda in the other. 

Barbara frowned, "Did you really have to come in through the window and scrape 
up my new paint job?" 

"Well," he looked up ponderously, "I was going to come in by conventional means, 
but I heard you all yelling over Boardwalk from the street, so I decided to 
surprise you all." He left the sill and plopped down next to Barbara on the 
couch. "By the way, that fire escape of yours is a safety hazard. You better 
have the super take a look at that . . . it's missing a *lot* of bolts and 
screws." 

"So are you." 

He smiled dryly, "Always with the nice words, eh, Babs?" 

I snickered at that, "Barbara is just in a cranky mood 'cause I got Boardwalk." 

Dick snorted, "Barbara's in a cranky mood a lot of the time." 

"The landlord told me the fire escape would be fixed by Friday. So there." 
Barbara looked kinda wounded, and that made me feel a little bad for her. But 
she shrugged it off and gestured to the pizza box. "Is it alright if I take 
one?" 

Dick's dense head must've picked up on something, because he gave her one of 
those smiles. You know, the one where he shows most of his teeth and all of his 
dimples. I really don't get what's so great about that smile, but a lot of 
people talk about it. Barbara looked startled, but gave him an uneasy smile 
back. Now she has a lovely smile, much more . . . cuter than Dick's, but that's 
just my opinion. Dick reached for the middle box and gave the whole thing to 
her. "I brought this one especially for you." 

She looked at him dubiously, but opened the box anyways. Her eyes went wide and 
she blew out a disbelieving breath. "I don't believe you." 

From the corner of my eye, I could see Bruce shift in his seat, eyebrows raised. 
This is what I didn't want. I didn't want Barb and Dick fighting all night while 
the rest of us are forced to watch. God knows I've done that a bazillion times 
already. 

Barb face suddenly broke out into a happy beam, and she squealed. She literally 
squealed. "Aw! You remembered!" she gushed. She threw her arms around Dick and 
gave him a big smooch on the cheek, while *everyone* was looking, hell, while 
*Dick* was looking. 

"For old time's sake," he said, looking mightily embarrassed. 

Curiosity made me pulled that pizza out of Barb's lap. I opened the flap and on 
the pie, there was every topping imaginable. Ham, sausage, pepperoni, onions, 
(green and red) mushrooms, tomatoes, pineapple, I think I even saw corn in 
there. 

"It's our Great Compromise," Barbara explained. 

"Huh?" 

"Dick and I used to get everything on our pizza because that way, we'd be 
equally miserable." 

"Huh?" 

"Because he never liked what I chose, and I never liked what he chose." 

"And this was your solution?" 

"I guess you had to be there." 

"Anyways! Moving on. . . ." Subtlety was only something Dick practiced when he 
needed to. Otherwise he had about the same amount of tact as Bruce. He gave a 
pizza box to Bruce, and another to me. Alfred shook his head in distaste at the 
food, but reluctantly took the can of soda that Dick held out to him, probably 
out of politeness. The can of soda looked even more out of place than the dice 
did. "What I want to know is why no one invited me in the first place!" Dick 
said through a mouthful of pizza. 

"Master Dick, really." 

Dick flashed a sheepish smile at Alfred, which only made him cringed some more. 

"I did, though. Invite you." 

He shook his head at me, "No. . . ." 

"You didn't get my message?" 

"Haven't checked the machine, yet. Is that where you left it?" 

"Well, yeah." Where else? 

"I check my voicemail, like, every hour. You shoulda called my cell." 

I made a face. "I'll keep that in mind for next time." 

"I'll keep that in mind for next time," he mimicked, flashing another healthy 
mouthful of half eaten pizza. 

Barbara stood up to get Alfred a glass without him mentioning it. When she came 
back, he gracefully took it with a slight bow of his head, "Thank you very much, 
Miss Barbara." 

She grinned, "I'm just really glad I found one." 

Dick withdrew himself from our exchange to smirk, "How 'bout some plates and 
napkins while you're at it, Babs?" 

"Get it yourself, buddy." 

"I don't know where you're keeping the stuff," he said rather sensibly. 

I could see the slight uneasiness settle in on her features, "Oh. Right. Okay, 
I'll be right--" but before she thought about it too much, Dick brushed past 
her, towards the kitchen, and gently pushed her back down to the couch. 

"Wait," I called out to him, continuing with our earlier conversation. "How did 
you know to be here?" 

"What does it matter, Timmy?" he called from the kitchen, "I'm here, aren't I?" 

"I just want to know, that's all." 

"Eh. . . ." 

"Just tell me!" 

"Uh . . . no." 

"Geez, Dick." 

"Wow. When did you get to be so anal?" 

"I'm not anal." I'm not. 

"Obsessive compulsive, then," Barbara decided. 

Dick came back in the room, balancing a stack of plates with his right hand and 
holding a wad of napkins with his left. "Bruce told me." 

"What?" 

"During the patrol when you called me up," Bruce supplied, "Dick was there." 

"So naturally, he told me all about it." 

"Oh." 

"So," he stood, rubbing his hands together, "Deal me in." 

We didn't end up just starting him in the game. For one thing, he came in late, 
that was his fault . . . but he said Barb's monster pizza took twenty minutes 
and he was already running late as it was because, as Dick said it, traffic in 
Bludhaven sucked because the drivers sucked, and the drivers sucked because the 
roads sucked, and so on. For another thing, Dick wouldn't have been able to 
catch up to the rest of us, despite his grandiose claims to the contrary. So 
what ended up happening was that Alfred decided to give Dick his spot, and he 
became banker. He said he liked watching more than participating, and I can't 
say I blamed him. Monopoly is a cutthroat business, especially when playing with 
Barbara Gordon. 

***** 

"You can't do that, Bruce." 

"Just let him, Babs." 

"You're taking his side?" 

Dick eyed the dice, obviously impatient for his turn. "What sides?" he said 
distractedly, "It's not a big deal." 

"You're always take his side!" 

"What? Are you kidding me?" 

"But you can't just do this mid-game!" 

"Just let Bruce trade in his thimble for the canon," I said. 

"Be quiet, Tim." Well, that hurts. 

"I can speak for myself, you know." Bruce started to reach for the thimble. 
"Anyways, you let Dick trade in Alfred's cannon for the dog. There's no 
difference." 

"Of course there's a difference! Dick was starting, and that's when you pick 
your playing piece, at the beginning! Not in the middle of the game." Barbara 
slapped Bruce's hand away from the box. God, she's so far into the game, she's 
becoming stupidly daring. 

"Technically, that was the middle of the game." 

"Well *technically*, that was the beginning of Dick's turn." 

"Well *technically*," Dick began, and then stopped, "Uh, forgot what I was gonna 
say." 

"Why do you want to trade now, anyways, Bruce?" I spoke up, hoping to get on 
with it all. 

"Because the cannon is now up for grabs." All of us--sans Dick--knew that Bruce 
wanted the cannon in the first place, but gave it to Alfred. 

"What do you think Alfred?" Barbara made pleading eyes at him. Bruce sat in 
stony silence. Dick shook his head frantically behind Barbara's back, beckoning 
for him to keep his mouth shut if he knew what was good for him. I just waited. 

Alfred cleared his throat. "Well, as far as I can surmise," he started 
carefully, "Miss Gordon is correct in the sense that Master Dick started at the 
beginning of his turn, and Master Bruce is also correct in saying that Master 
Dick started in the middle of the game." And then he stopped. 

Barbara pouted. Bruce nodded with satisfaction. Dick looked stupefied. I was 
just plain impressed. Alfred Pennyworth is a freaking genius! If I had said 
that, I would've been pounced on like a juicy steak in a starving lions' den. 

Bruce, still bent on his cannon, said, "I don't understand what the big deal is. 
Lucius sometimes--" 

"Excuse me, Bruce, but this isn't insider trading or whatever--" 

"Right," Dick interjected, still impatient for his turn, "Hellooo? This is game. 
We don't allow that real life stuff around here." 

"We don't need your sarcasm, Grayson." 

"Just trying to take your side, Babs. *For once*, apparently." 

"Why won't you let me take the cannon?" Bruce finally asked. 

"Bec-c-cause!" she sputtered, "You have a plan! You have something up your 
sleeve, and I just know that if you get that cannon, it's going to bite me in 
the butt down the line." 

"Look I'll save you the anticipation, and I'll bite your ass, right now if you 
want me to." Bruce sorta choked on his pizza and Alfred looked scandalized. Dick 
was walking a very thin line, and the poor sap had no idea. 

Barbara crossed her arms and looked darkly at him. "Shut up, Dick," she 
muttered. That was it? Where are the fireworks? The thunder? The lightening? I 
have to admit, I was kinda disappointed. 

Dick shook his head after a long pause. "How much do you want the cannon, 
Bruce?" 

"I don't really need it." 

"Okay. My turn." 

***** 

After another hour, Dick was slightly ahead of the rest of us, but the game was 
nowhere near finished. Bruce was getting tired of it, and started to slack, he 
even let Barbara trick him into practically giving her Marvin Gardens. 

After two hours, I was bored. I remembered then why I hated Monopoly in the 
first place. Bruce half paid attention, and somewhere along the way, he and 
Alfred teamed up. Barbara was still going at it, strong as ever. Dick, I could 
tell, was beginning to lose interest and was giving his winnings away to me and 
Bruce, just to spite Barb. So I made my suggestion then. 

"How about we call it a night?" 

Barbara's head jolted up, but she took one look at our faces and slouched back 
down, "That's not a bad idea, actually." 

"Yes!" 

"Finally." 

"About damn time." 

"Please watch your language, Master Dick." 

"Sorry, Alfred. It just slipped out." 

We all took our time putting the board and pieces away. Barbara insisted that 
she was the winner since she had the most property and had a higher net worth, 
although I don't know when she found the time to figure out her net worth. We 
all conceded, because given enough time, Barb probably would've kicked our butts 
in the end. 

"So," Bruce said softly to me, "How does it feel to be a high school graduate?" 

I was a little thrown off by the question. "Not too bad. Uh, I mean, the real 
world responsibilities haven't settled in yet, but so far, not too bad." 

He nodded thoughtfully. 

Dick held up his half finished drink. "Great ceremony, though. Totally dug your 
speech." 

I laughed, "Thanks." 

"Especially that bit about heroes," he placed a finger on his chin, eyes 
playful, "I wonder who he was talking about. . . ." 

"Not you," Barb snorted. 

"Sure, he was." 

"Was not." 

"Was too." 

"You're dumb." 

"No, you're dumb." 

"You're dumber than me." 

"No one's dumber than you, sweetheart." 

"Dick!" 

"I'm just kidding!" She slugged him in the arm. "Honest." 

"I was talking about the teachers, guys," I cut in, hoping to cut things short 
before there was a replay of the Bruce-and-stupid-cannon fight. 

They both looked at me as if I had just spawned another head. "We know," Dick 
said. "We were just having fun, Timmy. You always take us so seriously." 

I chuckled quietly, pulling my gaze away from them, "You guys are nuts. Just try 
not to sit to close to me, might be contagious." 

Barbara pouted, "Aw, our wittle Timothy is all grown up and is embarrassed of us 
old fogies." 

"I'm not all grown up," I laughed again. 

"Getting close, though," Bruce said solemnly. 

Dick nodded slightly in agreement. "Yeah. Seems like just yesterday he was just 
a little scrawny punk trying to weasel in on my territory. Now he's a big boy 
with a diploma." He grinned at me to let me know he was just yanking my chain 
again. This time, I didn't rise to the bait. 

Instead I just turned my head away from them. "Can the melodrama, guys. I'm a 
day older than I was yesterday." 

"It's not the day, really. It's what it signifies. And you are now a full 
fledged adult, Tim." Bruce smiled his half smile briefly, "went by incredibly 
fast." 

"I don't feel any different," I protested, raking my hand over my head. 

"But things are different, now." 

"That sucks." 

"No, it doesn't, Master Timothy. Different is good. Change is good." 

"Eh." 

"Time does fly, though, doesn't it?" Dick leaned back against the arm of couch 
and sighed reflectively. He nudged Barbara's arm. "Remember when we were just 
starting college?" She nodded. 

"I remember." Bruce's voice was soft. "Alfred made you eat one last meal in the 
kitchen before you ran out that door." 

Alfred smiled and nodded, "Two eggs, half a piece of toast--" 

"And a glass of O.J. was all I could get down." Dick added, and then chuckled a 
bit. 

"You couldn't wait to get out of the house," Bruce grinned crookedly. 

"Well, if I remember correctly, I had a date that day, otherwise you probably 
would've had to drag me out the door, kicking and screaming." 

Barbara laughed, "That's right, you did have a date. I wonder whatever happened 
to that girl. She was quite a catch." 

"If you say so. Too intellectual, I thought, always talked my ear off. She still 
calls me up sometimes just to bug me, usually at insane hours in the morning." 

"Ten is not insane by normal people's standards, Dick." 

"It is when you've just worked the graveyard shift." 

"This is nice," I spoke up, and they all turned to me, curious, "I mean, 
spending time together like this." 

"Yeah," someone replied. 

Another silence pervaded the room, this time not so comfortable. Not 
uncomfortable exactly, but it was a thoughtful silence. Now that I've thought 
about it, I bugged them all into Monopoly because this might be one of the last 
times I would be able to call all of them up and get together. Because who knows 
what will happen once I start school in the fall, if I'd see much of Bruce and 
the rest of them. Dick said that during his college years, he did see Bruce 
occasionally, and he did throw on his cape whenever he wasn't dead tired. But he 
also said he was dead tired most of the time. 

"Hey, stop that." Barbara brought her hand over Dick's to still it. She was 
afraid that the glass in his hand might spill or something, but the thing is, 
I've never seen Dick spill or trip in all the years I've known him. 

Dick just grinned and fingered the stained spot on her couch that she was 
fretting over earlier. "So paranoid." 

"You did it once, you can do it again." She took the glass out his hand and 
placed it on the coffee table. 

Bruce laughed a little and said something, and Dick tried to kick him from where 
he was. "She pushed me, that's why I spilled." 

"Bleach will get that out, Miss Gordon. In fact, if you have some, I could clean 
that spot up for you, right now." Ha! I knew it! Score one for the Timster! 

"And so it really all her fault," Dick continued. 

"Was not, you made me push you!" 

"And how did he do that, Barbara?" 

"Miss Gordon? Do you have a dishcloth or a sponge somewhere in here?" 

"I made a comment about her dress, that's all." 

"Shut up, Dick." 

"That's not nice." 

"Neither was your comment." 

"Hey, can I have that last piece?" 

"Get your yucky hands off me!" 

"Yucky? You weren't saying that last night when I--" 

"Shut UP, Dick!" 

"You know, I guy never gets tired of hearing that." 

"Why do I put up with you?" 

"This is good." 

"Because I'm cute?" 

"He's got you there, Miss Gordon." 

"Cute as a fat ugly pig." 

"Are there anymore cans of soda around here?" 

"Babs. . . ." 

"What! Leave me alone! Geez . . . can't believe this . . . you big baby . . . 
knock it . . . aw, I'm sorry, honey. Aw, don't be like that. I hate it when you 
get pouty. I really do. You know you are the very cutest in my book. Yeah. Whoa, 
Dick! Hey! Stop that!" 

I just sat back and watched quietly. Somewhere along the way, without me 
realizing it, things righted themselves out again. When I first came to live 
with Bruce, Dick was barely around, and whenever he was, he hated being there. A 
room with Dick and Barb in it was strained; Barbara tried to make small talk 
while Dick would mutter noncommittal words. Bruce locked himself up a lot in 
those days. There were weeks where I wouldn't hear a whole sentence from him. 

I was always left in dark. There were so many things left unsaid, and I hadn't 
been around in the beginning, so I couldn't figure it all out. Why Dick couldn't 
get along with Bruce anymore. Why Barbara didn't like it when I mentioned Dick, 
and how he didn't like it when I mentioned her. Why Alfred was always hesitant 
to share something about those three with me. And that was why I was left in the 
dark. No one talked about it. 

When it came to the point of being water under the bridge, things were a little 
better. Not much, I guess the water collected somewhere and formed a big puddle, 
or a lake, as a constant reminder of what hung over their heads. Dick came 
around more often, and once in a blue moon, we'd all get together and do 
something recreational. It was always a game of basketball, or a movie, because 
none of them could stand to sit around and talk. But on certain days, when Dick 
was mad at Bruce for something, or Barb made some comment that stung him, and 
he'd make her almost cry, everything reverted back to the way it was when I was 
thirteen. 

I gave up a long time ago, stopped trying to fix it all. I accepted that there 
was too much history, stuff I didn't know about, so I should just let it be and 
hope that it wouldn't get worse. 

But now, I look over at them. Alfred is examining the stain closely. Bruce is 
eating that last piece of pizza. Every now and then, he'd throw in a comment or 
two that would make Dick look sour and he'd smile with satisfaction as Dick 
threw a cushion at his face. Barbara is slapping at Dick's hands. At the same 
time, tears are coming out of the corner of her eyes because she's laughing so 
hard from his tickling. 

How did it get to this without me realizing it? 

"Hey squirt, what's wrong?" Barbara looked at me with concerned eyes, and all 
movement stopped in the room. 

I smiled back at them, and simply said, "Nothing's wrong. Everything's alright." 

******
End