All or most of the the charactors belong to Dc comics. 
this piece of fiction was writen for the fun of the 
work and love of the comic here. things in this story 
may not fit into any of the story lines that DC has 
explored but then none of theirs do either. Thanks go 
to my Beta reader and if I boobooed in the re typing 
... I am sorry. That being said I hope you enjoy it  
 
***
 
The Tether  
by Cyndi Smith (scribbler18@yahoo.com) 

***
 
Tim really liked visiting his friend, Dick Grayson. He was one of the 
few adults that didn't treat him like a child. But lately catching Mr. 
Grayson at home was as easy as keeping the Joker in Arkum. On the 
other hand it was a pretty sure bet that if Tim couldn't find his 
friend in the comfort of his little Bludhaven apartment then Robin 
could find Nightwing somewhere on the roof tops of his own little hell. 
 
Tonight he was easier to find than most. The night sky over the port of 
Bludhaven was a light with muzzle flash from gunfire. The closer he got 
to the warehouse the more he was hoping he was wrong. At first he 
thought it was some sort of gang war going on, gunfire coming from 
everywhere, but when he got a closer look he realized he was only 
partly right it was only one gang they seem to be taking target 
practice. Their target.... Nightwing.  
 
Nightwing is good but even Superman has his limits. It was time Robin 
went in to action. First he planned to take out the perimeter. It was 
easy enough sneaking into the fray since they weren't expecting him to 
be there. He managed to take out a couple of the outer goons unnoticed 
by the others, already. Then again an elephant could sneak up on these 
guys, the clamor of gunfire was deafening. He saw Nightwing flip off 
the second story of one building over to another. The man was holding 
his own for the most part but there were so many of them they were 
knocking off each other. Robin stopped long enough to try and radio in 
for back up, but the call never went out. 
 
As Nightwing dodged the ground fire he ran smack into some other punks 
bullet The impact was so great it picked his friend up and flung him 
over the side of the building. Robin looked up in time to see the man 
he considered his brother fall out of view.  
 
"Nightwing!" Robin shouted, bullets whizzed by his head, before he 
realized what he had just done. "Bad move boy wonder" he growled as he 
found himself their new target. He flew head first into the fray, 
sending concussion pellets and smoke bombs flying all directions. 
Nothing mattered but finding his friend and no one was going to stop 
him. 
 
The element of surprise was still an advantage it seemed as some of 
goons were already running but not because completely because of him.  
"I'm gettin out-a-here..." He heard someone shout, "If the kids here ya 
know the Bat ain't far behind."   
 
Unfortunately they weren't all that easily fooled. That's when he saw 
it... Nightwing's car... at least it looked like one of the many 
chaises he built for his car. He made a jump for it as it whizzed by 
him.  
 
*Yep, I'm was right* he thought as he clung to the door..*No driver, 
and that means that Nightwing is alive. he must have activated it after 
he fell.* 
 
It also meant that Robin would be leading them back to their original 
target. Before he could react to that thought the vehicle came to a 
screeching halt, nearly flinging him into a warehouse door. As he 
struggled to get his footing he found himself mask to mask with 
Nightwing.  
 
 
"Uh some party ...." he grimaced as he watched Dick painfully struggle 
to pull himself up from the Damp ground. "Fancy meeting you here.." 
 
"Robin?" The sound of gunfire interrupted his thoughts. Nightwing 
quickly, but with great effort, pulled the boy behind the protection of 
the car. "... Parties gotten way out of hand... how bout if 
we...blow this joint and go.... someplace quiet to...talk."  
 
The words were filled with pain and when Tim looked up, he could tell 
his friend was in trouble. Dick was as pale as a ghost he used the car 
to keep himself sitting up right. His right arm guarded gingerly his 
side...and beneath that.... Blood. 
 
"...Uuhgg... you can drive." Nightwing winced. Robin looked horrified 
as noticed the stain soaking through Nightwing's kevlar constructed 
body armor. Once over the initial shock, he eased his friend over 
to the car.  
 
"I have to get you to the Hospital" Robin announced as he slid over the 
upholstery still trying to assist the 
injured man. 
 
"No," he painfully objected "...No... Just take me home" he coughed as 
he collapsed into the passenger seat of his muscle car.  
 
"To the bat cave Robin..." for a moment Tim, thought he heard a hint of 
laughter but it was quickly replaced by a cry of pain. Tim had seen 
Nightwing injured but never had he expressed so much pain.  
 
"Arrrgghh.... Oh God, it's like my back is on fire, Oh God " Dick 
screamed between his teeth. He was fighting for each breath between 
each every word."...Computer... 0...3...2... 1... O714...oh 
G....ODDD..." Dick rasped. He looked Tim in the eyes as if to emphasize 
what he was about to say. "Just drive... don't stop for anything ... 
arrgghh ..."  
 
Panic seized the youth, never in his whole career as Robin could he 
remember feeling so helpless. His mind kept replaying the assault on 
Nightwing. Over and over the impact as the bullet hit him and the fall 
that ensued after words. It was more vivid now than when it happened. 
 
*Well done Boy Wonder.* His mind screamed. *You claim he is your best 
friend ... what did you do? Nothing! You stood and watched as they 
tried to kill him. You blew it, boy blunder, you blew it.* Tim turned 
his attention to the road. Dick continued to talk The moments of pause 
between words seemed like a life time, Dick had removed his mask, he 
appeared to be having difficulty breathing, and his words began to 
slur. "No matter what, " he continued his voice more like a 
whisper, now " Don't stop until we're home... Bruce...Tell Bruce.... I 
had to... t...te..ll ..him I'm..so..rrry..." 
 
"STOP IT!!" Tim screamed, "Stop talking like that." Tim popped off his 
mask and wiped away the moisture that now blurred his vision. *What the 
hell is happening?* his mind screamed *Why cant I think? Why does it 
feel like my Chest is going to explode? Panic? Why can't I think, I 
have got to THINK* He had never felt so helpless before. Even when he 
thought he had lost both his parents in a plane crash. He didn't feel 
as completely alone. He remembered the hurt, fear and pain of the loss 
and the deep grief. But this time, he was there, he should have been 
able to stop it. What was all the time and training for if he couldn't 
have protected his friend? 
 
He was fairly sure Dick was no longer coherent. He was now mumbling 
raspy words between shallow breaths. Something about no choice and if 
it doesn't work... and a few other words Tim could not make out at all.  
Then nothing.. Dick collapsed over into Tim's shoulder. 
 
"Dick? Dick! ...Come on man ... Dick!....No! ...Computer take total 
control of the car.....Contact Batman.... EMERGENCY, ..." When the car 
acknowledged full control of the vehicle he turned in his seat 
pushing Dick upright in his. "Man, stay with me..." Robin whispered as 
he searched desperately for a pulse. 
 
" Dick, Please...Don't do this to me man.. " Using the specially 
designed *R* shaped blade he cut through the Kevlar mesh and protective 
layer of Nightwing's body armor and laid his head against the older 
mans chest he prayed for some sign of life ... there was none.  
"Computer bring the vehicle to a stop..." The computer refused...  
 
"Computer release controls to me..." the computer complied... but he 
car would not break and the vehicle would not go off the road....  
 
"Release all controls"  
 
The computer refused...Robin slammed his fist into the dashboard. The 
computer did not reply... "DICK... don't do this... I can't do CPR in 
this car" 
 
Suddenly a familiar face came on screen..."Master Tim.... what are you 
doing there we just receive an emergency signal from Master Richard's 
vehicle." 
 
"I know Alfred ...where's Bruce?" I have to talk to Bruce." 
 
Alfred could see the boy was in total dishevel "Master Bruce is 
currently trying to get away from the dinner party upstairs... he will 
be here as soon as possible can I help with anything " 

"...its Dick.. He's ...He was shot...there were so many.... " 
 
" Are you injured master, Tim..."  
 
"No" Tim growled," don't you understand, they didn't want me ...they 
didn't even know I was there. It was a trap... he didn't stand a 
chance."  
 
Alfred had pushed a button on the computer panel while still on line 
with the boy, moments later a second face appeared on the screen. Tim 
recognized the bathroom lighting and figured he must have been the 
excuse he used to step away from the guests at dinner. 
 
"Talk to me son" Bruce whispered. 
 
Tim. just stared at his hands "I'm Sorry Bruce I was too late... I 
tried, but I was too late." 

"What are you saying, Tim?" 
 
"It's Dick,... he's dead." the look of disbelief in Bruce's eyes only 
shadowed what he felt in his heart as the boy continued to report "He 
was bleeding bad, I wanted to get him to the hospital but he wouldn't 
go," the words were reflecting the night mare the boy was reliving "one 
minute he was talking, then everything stopped, he stopped talking, he 
stopped breathing, I can't get a pulse... I'm sorry " Tim looked up in 
time to see Alfred step away form the computer. Bruce just closed his 
eyes and listen 

"...the computer has control of the car" he continued "I can't stop it 
and I can't perform CPR in here.." his voice was more of a child's than 
a crime fighter. "At first I thought... he p..passed out, he almost 
looks so peaceful like he's sleeping...." Tim mumbled, "Oh God, what 
have I done. What will I do now?"  
 
Bruce, felt suddenly hollow as though what was left of his soul was 
ripped away from him and it was obvious the boy was taking it hard. Yet 
something in what Tim said triggered a memory, one of earlier and less 
confusing times between Dick and himself and with it a brief twinge of 
hope. But then he knew better than to let himself or anyone else depend 
on that hope, and he was not sure he knew how to pray. What were the 
chances... his thought was right...or that Dick might have recalled the 
incident. He could vary easily be wrong. Bruce knew how much the boy 
worshiped Dick Grayson as a man as well as a hero he dare not give 
him even a thread to hang on to because if he is wrong, it could vary 
easily destroy the boy as well. 
 
"Tim. Listen to me... it's not your fault son, you've done all you can 
do ... just bring him home..." 
 
Bruce, still clad in his black tux pants and shirt, ran across the 
natural bridge as soon as Nightwing's car came to a stop. He quickly 
pulled his son from the vehicle not even acknowledging the young man 
behind the wheel. Tim watched as he cradled Dick's body as if he was 
child of 5 asleep in his arms, as he carefully carried him back to the 
cave's Med lab Tim just watched as they disappeared around the corner 
and then laying his head on the steering wheel, he let his mind fill 
with memories of the man who had become his mentor, his friend ...his 
Brother... and he cried. 
 
 
Tim wasn't sure how long he'd been in the car; he must have fallen 
asleep because he awoke to a gentle tapping on windshield and Alfred 
staring at him with staunch concern. "Master Timothy, I have your room 
ready for you up stairs I'm sure it will be much more to your liking, 
sir." 
 
It took a moment for the cobwebs of sleep to clear but when they did he 
remembered all to well where he was and what had happen. He found 
himself unable to look the man in the face. He stared instead at the 
bloodstain that had dried into the upholstery of the car. Then another 
voice pulled him from the darkness. 
 
"Tim," Bruce whispered, "Come with me, son."  
 
Tim followed. He didn't know why, but he followed, oblivious to 
everyone and everything around him, he didn't even notice Bruce had 
stopped walking until he ran into the man. When he stepped back to 
apologize, he became aware the steady hissing and beeping of the med-
labs equipment and when he looked up, he saw shadow of a form beneath 
the tubes and wires. It was Dick. And if he read the med board 
correctly he was still alive. 
 
"Oh God, ...I... thought," was all the boy was able to say before he 
collapsed. Bruce managed to catch the stunned youth and lower him to 
the ground. He realized that the experienced left the kid both 
emotionally and physically drained.  
 
"I have never been so glad to be wrong," he choked as the tears began 
to return. Doctor Leslie Thomkins, who had been standing over Dick 
monitoring a board that looked like something out of an old Star Trek 
movie, rushed over to Tim's side taking him in her arms. He began 
rocking himself back and forth, mumbling over and over *he was wrong.* 
 
Leslie had become like a surrogate mother to Bruce after the death of 
his parents and Richard's friend and physician after Bruce took him in. 
She was one of the few persons who knew about Bruce and the Bat Cave. 
It had been a fluke or a miracle that the benefit dinner party was for 
her small clinic on Crime Ally in Gotham. Tim grabbed on to her for 
dear life as she tried to quiet his fears.  
 
 
"Tim, It's true, Dick is alive. But I won't lie to you hon. You were 
not wrong in your diagnosis. Even with my stethoscope I couldn't pick 
up a heartbeat, but the one thing I have learned in my many years of 
treating these two is things aren't always the way they appear. So 
based on the readings of the med bed, Alfred and I did surgery. I wish 
I could give you something to cling to, but for now- I'm sorry son- 
he's not out of the woods yet," 
 
Being held in Leslie's arms, Tim suddenly looked to be a child, 
confused and uncertain. Bruce had forgotten that it was only a few 
short years ago that Tim had joined his **Bat family** and although he 
had been through some personal losses in his life, unlike both Bruce 
and Dick who were with their parents when they were murdered, his 
parents were believed killed in a plane crash. As devastating as that 
experience was, it wasn't the same as being there, watching it happen 
and being unable to do anything to prevent it. Both he and Dick relived 
that helplessness everyday. 
 
"I don't understand, if I was right... he was dead then... How did you 
bring him back" the boy whispered finally gaining a sibilance of 
control over his emotions.  
 
"Maybe I can explain that." Bruce interrupted. "You know the Tibetan 
practice we use to control breath, relax our minds and body and control 
our tolerance of pain?" 
 
"Of course" Tim responded "It's part of our every day training. But 
Dick was in so much pain, I don't think he was able to do that," 
 
"The injury may have prevented him from thinking passed the pain." 
Bruce confirmed "But what ever I tried to teach, Dick, he always seemed 
able to take things one step further." Tim swallowed the anger he was 
beginning to feel "I don't understand." 
 
"Dick always had a knack for the more difficult techniques. When I 
started training him, I made the mistake of telling him a story my 
sensei told me, about how his master. The master, who was very old, 
would often meditate in the garden no matter the weather, and always at 
the same time. One day he didn't awaken for dinner. My sensei found 
him, and at first he thought his teacher had fallen asleep he looked so 
peaceful but then he realized the man was not breathing and his heart 
was no longer detectable. The monks convinced the old man had died in 
his sleep, began the ritual for the dead. He lay in state for three 
days, the other monks were about to prepare his body, for a ritual 
burial when he awoke just moments before they lay him on the funeral 
pyre." 
 
Bruce almost laughed at the reaction he got as he told the story. "Even 
I found the story hard to believe and I had never known my sensei to 
lie. I just left well enough alone and continued my studies. But deep 
in the back of my mind every time my skills where put to the test I 
would recall the story and try that much harder.  
 
"Originally I believed like me, Dick took the story as a wives tale. 
But he was less and less apprehensive about taking the water tests, and 
that was all I cared about." 
 
"Man, I remember taking my first water test I thought you were trying 
to drowned me." Tim interjected. "It wasn't long before I could stay 
down for nearly 5 minutes. But when I asked what the record was, and 
you said I didn't need to go around comparing my self with anyone and 
that five minutes was more than adequate". 
 
"The very first time I tested his ability underwater," Bruce confirmed 
pointing to the figure that lay in the bed. "After I told him the story 
...he remained submerged for nearly 5 minutes. The second time, eight 
minutes and seventeen seconds. Because I panicked and pulled him up" 
 
"Panicked? You?" 
 
 
"He was still very young and so small. It might not have been the right 
thing, but after the second time, I asked him not to use that technique 
for extended periods of time unless absolutely necessary. Even though 
my sensei insisted that his master was fine and showed no signs of 
brain damage. In my mind it wasn't logical and under water? It was not 
as if he could pull air out of the water molecules". Bruce insisted, 
still staring down the looks of disbelief on both Tim's face and 
Leslie's. "He tried to tell me he was always aware of what was going 
on. He even said that he could feel the pressure build in his lungs but 
he was positive that he could have stayed down longer. Still he was my 
responsibility, and I was not going to let him drown himself because of 
a wives' tale."  
 
It was a couple of years before it came up again. He had established 
himself as my partner as well as the leader of the Teen Titans. They 
had built a saltwater pool inside the Titan Tower .so the young 
Atlantian known then as Aqualad, could hydrate if needed. But most of 
the time it was used as an indoor swimming pool. 
 
On this day I don't even think he realized what he was doing they had 
all been playing tag under water the only two left in the water were 
Garth and Richard. The others were standing around mumbling when I got 
there to pick him up. The day had been filled with workouts and 
simulations nothing really strenuous, but they decided this was a great 
way of cooling down. And still get some water workout in. He'd been 
chasing Garth for nearly eight minutes without coming up for air and 
still going strong according to his friends. They couldn't believe 
their eyes. When Donna told me how long he had been under water chasing 
the Aquarian I lost my cool. I stopped the game by tossing a weight 
belt. Just passed Aqualad's head.  
 
When Dick surfaced his face was as red as mine. Mine was from anger; 
his was from lack of oxygen, and quickly turning blue. I can only 
assume that it contributed to what happened next. Just as he popped 
up out of the water his eyes rolled back in his head and he passed out. 
He had in fact stopped breathing. He had a large bruise on his back 
where Wonder Girl had hit him really hard. Like most injuries he 
ignored it, and no one thought twice about it until Garth dragged him 
from the water and we attempted to resuscitate him. But it wasn't doing 
much good. A rib had broken and been pushed through one of his lungs. 
The other lung we were told later may have collapsed from the lack of 
use and the water pressure. I couldn't get air in by normal means, so 
we I ended up inflating them the hard way...with a chest tube. 
Luckily the lung opened completely up. We had him transported to Star 
Labs, he was bedridden for two weeks under Alfred's watchful eyes. 
After getting a clean bill of health.  
 
About 3 moths later, I took him to the JLA satellite and we placed him 
on a med bed; even Star Labs equipment couldn't compare to its 
apparatus. He was hooked to every type of recording devise known to  
medical science, alien and human alike. I even requested that Superman 
stay with him in the room. It took him a while to relax, but 
eventually, one by one the machines flat-lined. When the last one went 
down after an hour, I wanted to wake him, but Superman said he could 
still hear a heart rhythm and a steady intake of air. The one thing 
that stuck out the most was how peaceful he looked. He appeared to be 
sleeping..." 
 
"Like in the car!" Tim interrupted, finally showing signs of 
understanding. 
 
"That's right like in the car.... and stayed in that pattern for nearly 
an hour and a half. Then something happened. He began to seizure and 
then blood and froth came out of his mouth. He gave me quite as scare. 
We still are not sure what happen, suddenly all the machinery started 
back up and his eyes opened, At first there was a look of horror that 
crossed his face, then he fell asleep. When he awoke he said he had no 
memory of what happen. Superman confirmed the he was stable and the 
blood had completely expelled it self from his lungs, so, except for 
some bruising, which we believed was caused by the seizure, he was 
going to be fine. I made him promise never to attempt that again, I had 
the med equipment adjusted just in case. As far as I know he's never 
even attempted it... until now. 
 
Alfred gently laid his hand on the boys shoulder, but Bruce waved him 
off. "Tim, I know your tired but I need to know what happened out 
there" 
 
"I don't know. I came in late," he recalled "I went to Dick's place, 
but he wasn't home, so I changed clothes and went looking for Nightwing 
"Tim related, his head dropped in to his hands .in an attempt get back 
some semblance of control. "I found him; OH man did I find him. The 
whole port was lit up in gunfire. It looked like a carnival shooting 
gallery, and they were all after the same duck. Bruce I swear, every 
man with a gun was there. It was insane. They were killing each other 
trying to catch Nightwing. I don't even know how long he had been 
fighting them off. I just know that I no sooner reached the pier than 
he was hit. It knocked him off the warehouse; I realized he was still 
alive when the car was activated. I hitched a ride when the 
it sped by me." The boy paused to swallow the bile that was building in 
his throat. "He was hurt bad, Bruce. We got to the car just as it 
rained bullets again. He was in so much pain. He told me to drive 
then he activated the computer. He gave it some code... 03... 21... 
something," 
 
"07...14." Bruce completed. 
 
"Yea that's it" Tim continued " then he told me to take him home... 
here... and do not stop for anything But when he... I tried to stop the 
car but..." 
 
"Tim you did all you could ... the code is a destination coordinate 
lock ... the Batmobile and the Redbird both have one... remember." 
 
Tim lowered his head. Dick hadn't been talking to him he was talking to 
the computer. He allowed the situation to over shadow his ability to 
think. It was a big mistake. Alfred whispered to Bruce before he 
insisted Tim go with him. 
 
"Come, Master Tim you need to get some rest," 
 
At first it looked as though he might object, but Bruce countered it 
before he could voice his thoughts. 
 
"Its ok, Tim. I'm gonna need you well rested for tomorrow."  
 
Tim slowly picked himself up from the floor, his eyes never left the 
bed while Alfred led him up the stairs. It was going to be a long 
night, for everyone. 
 
Bruce walked over to the Massive structure known as the Bat Computer. 
With a quick shuffle of his fingers across the keyboard the chaotic 
flashing alert icon was replaced by the one time Bat Girl. Barbara 
Gordon appeared.
 
"Oracle?" he quietly acknowledged. 
 
"Bruce," she returned trying desperately not to look panicked. "Have 
you heard from Dick? I think he's in trouble...." 
 
"Barbara," Bruce calmly cut her off. To a normal person the look on 
Bruce's face wouldn't reveal anything but Oracle was once Batgirl, 
trained by the Batman himself to read faces. And his face said *there 
was something wrong*  
 
"Barbara, Dick is here..." the words were hard to get out of his 
throat. "He was shot... It's not good." 
 
All the color drained from the girls face as he continued. " I think if 
you can get away you should come here. I will send Alfred for you. 
Bring a change of clothes. You can stay at the manor." 
 
Barbara nodded as tears streamed down her face. 
 
"One more thing...Barbara. You can't tell anyone." Suddenly she 
realized it was not longer Bruce Wayne that was talking but Batman. 
"ANYONE do you understand." The look on her face must have made him 
realize how harsh he was sounding, Bruce cleared his throat and with a 
little less force he whispered "...please, for him." 
 
All she could do was nod; tears falling uncontrollably down her face as 
she signed off. Bruce turned his chair back to the med lab. Leslie was 
just settling herself down in a nearby chair for a moment's rest in 
what would prove to be a long night. 
 
***  
 
Dick was confused and disoriented. Everything was dark, and the mist 
that enveloped him made it seem even more eerie. At first he thought he 
was in the Batcave--after all that is where the car was programmed to 
take him--but nothing looked familiar.
 
The last thing he remembered was the pain... and the look of fear in 
Tim's eyes. Now every thing was gone; no car, no pain, and no Tim. He 
scanned the shadows for some sign of Tim, but it was just too dark.  
 
"Ti....uh Robin," he whispered with no luck. He called out just a 
little louder, but still got no response. Dick was beginning to worry. 
He attempted to activate the communicator in his suit, but everything 
seemed to have malfunctioned. Then he noticed movement within the 
shadows. A bright light filtered through, and the shadow moved within 
the light. It was a shadow he recognized, and one he was really happy 
to see. "Robin, where are we and how did we get here?"  
 
Dick was looking around and finding it hard to break thought the fog. 
His confusion grew with his effort; something wasn't right. As he 
turned to confront his comrade, it suddenly became all too clear. The 
Robin that stood before him wasn't Tim Drake, but Jason Todd.  
 
"~ Hello, Nightwing, it's been a while. ~" Jason smiled as he stepped 
out of the shadows. 

Dick stumbled backwards; his legs suddenly felt like Jell-O. Fear 
shadowed his eyes. Jason caught his predecessor as Dick's legs finally 
gave out. "~Whoa, big guy, ~" Jason grimaced, "~ don't give up the 
ghost so soon. No one said you've died ...yet. ~" He almost giggled as 
he eased his brother to the ground.  
 
"Yet?" Dick paused, starting the motion to get up, "I don't understand? 
Where are we, and what so funny?" Grayson gave up his motion, and lay 
back on the ground placing his hands over his eyes. He wished that he 
could close them so that when he opened them again he would awaken from 
a bad dream.  
 
"~ What do you remember? ~" The spirit urged.  
 
Grayson thought about it for a few minutes before he replied, "I 
remember ... My snitch 'Dondi" telling me there was suppose to be a big 
cargo of drugs coming in at the pier tonight. I remember breaking a 
date with Clancy again. And I remember being ambushed..."  
 
The one time Boy Wonder slowly slid his hand down to the place where 
the bullet had entered his body, as he finally reached total recall. 
"Oh, God... no wait... you said I wasn't dead ... but you are... right? 
I mean you are Jason, right? Is this heaven? It's brighter in the 
Batcave. OH man. This is giving me a headache. Wait, can you get a head 
ache in heaven?"  
 
"~Hey Grayson, chill man. Let me explain,~" Jason watched the leader of 
the Titans rub his temples trying to make sense of the situation. "~I 
guess you can say we're in limbo. Everyone here has choices to make. 
Some of us can't go back, and are not ready to go forward. Others like 
you are not ready to go forward, but are not ready to go back either."  
 
Dick sat quietly with questions reeling through his head, but one 
haunted him most of all. "This doesn't make a lot of sense. What 
happened to me, happened only moments ago, but you've been...uh... gone 
a couple of years."  
 
"~Really? Seems like yesterday, ~" the specter quipped.  
 
"I don't understand, Jason. Are we given a choice, and if we are...Why 
do you stay?"  
 
Taking on a serious demeanor the specter pointed out. "~ Actually you 
were injured hours ago, big bro. For those who are on this side there 
is no sense of time. As for myself...it's like I said--we all have a 
choice, and I will go when I am good and ready. ~"
 
He smiled ever so slightly as a tear slid down his face "~ In my 
selfishness I hurt someone who trusted and cared for me. Someone who, 
in his own way, showed me love and respect and I shattered his trust 
and in the process got myself and my mother killed.~"  
 
"Jason...that's not true!"  
 
"~Look! You don't know! You weren't there! You were never there. ~" 
Jason regretted his out burst as he watched Dick's eyes filled with 
despair. "~ But I also know now it wasn't your fault. And I'm sorry. I 
know you didn't originally care for me, or the fact that I would wear 
the red and green, but it's like you said--you had moved on~." Jason 
stared down at the costume he cherished. "~I'm just sorry that I 
dishonored the trust that came with it. It wasn't until after I was 
caught... by the Joker, that I began to understand, but it proved to be 
too late. ~" 

"No, Jason...you're wrong. I was the one who screwed up. I was wrong 
for allowing my own selfish emotions to block my ability to do what I 
knew was right. Like you said, I was never there. No one believes 
you...." 

"~In this world, it only matters what I believe...~"  
 
*** 
 
Bruce met the limo in the garage. He gently lifted Barbara from the car 
and requested that Alfred take her chair to the guestroom. When she 
started to object that she wasn't going to be carried everywhere she 
may need to go, he quickly quailed her objections by reminding her that 
he had a wheelchair in the cave, a memento of his first encounter with 
Bane.  
 
"I'm sorry Bruce," she whispered.  
 
He rewarded her with a small half-smile, and continued down the secret 
stairwell. "Barbara, what's going on? When you called you said you 
thought Dick was in trouble. How did you know?"  
 
She pulled a file from her lap as he set her down in the chair at the 
bottom of the stairs. She opened the file as she said, "I made hard 
copies while I was waiting for Alfred. There's a disk as well. Dick's 
made a pretty powerful enemy; as you can see the price on his head 
keeps going up." She pointed to a figure in the file. "The gook on top 
is Mick Carmody, one of Blockbuster's men. Seems he's trying to stake 
claim to the prize." As she spoke, she wheeled herself to the med lab. 
Her first glance at the normally vital body that lay in front of them 
frightened her. He secured her in the chair, and activated the 
elevation mechanism, which lifted the chair to a standing height, so 
that she could see over the chaos of wires and tubes. She swept her 
hand softly across his cheek, fighting back the tears that eventually 
began to fall. "How is he?" She whispered.  
 
"There had been no change since he was brought in."  
 
She let her hand fall lightly across his chest. It was warm, but it 
didn't rise and fall with his breath, she could not feel the gentle 
thumping of his heart, and his abdomen wrapped in gauze showed little 
to no blood. There was no visible sign of life. Yet the board above him 
continued to beep.  
 
Leslie walked up beside her and gave a report, "There was damage to the 
intestinal track and internal bleeding. Alfred and I had to do surgery 
to repair it. The bullet exited out his back, but it missed his spine, 
if just barely. I don't understand fully what is happening to him; 
right now, he doesn't respond to anything, so I can't tell to what 
extent the damages are to his body. If it were not for this med board 
above his head, I would have been preparing for a funeral." The hint of 
tears glassed over her eyes as she turned and pressed her hand against 
Bruce's cheek. "You two have gone to great extremes to make me doubt my 
abilities as a medical professional. I have seen you both heal from 
injuries in days that would have kept a normal man bedridden for 
months, but this tops it. I have treated what I could find, but I can't 
verify that we have found everything. Because his heart isn't pumping -
-at least not normally--and his internal systems have slowed down so 
drastically, I can't even tell if he's stabilized, or if anything I 
have done has done any good. He could still have internal bleeding I 
wish I could do more, but I just don't know what?" Bruce gathered the 
elderly woman who had done so much for him in his life into his arms as 
she cried. He never realized how much stress his career of choice had 
put on the person who had become his surrogate mother.  
 
*** 
 
Tim lay quietly in the bed; sleep wasn't coming as quickly as the anger 
in his gut or the rogue tear that strayed down his face. The whole 
incident played and replayed itself in his mind until he wanted to 
scream. Nightwing never had a chance, for whatever insane thing might 
have taken him out that night had sealed the crimefighter's fate, and 
maybe even his. He should have made his appearance more quickly; he 
should have taken out more of the gang members; he should have warned 
Nightwing of the gunman on the rooftop. 
If Dick died, everything he worked so hard for would die with him. If 
he lived, by the time he's strong enough to return, if he is ever 
strong enough to return, everything will have reverted back the way it 
was when he first moved there. Maybe worse. Because they will have 
known that they brought down Nightwing, so they will no longer fear 
him. Such is the rule of the jungle they lived in. That is why Bruce 
chose Jean-Paul to take his place to become Batman after Bane defeated 
him once; to maintain the fear of retribution for the wrongs done to 
the good of Gotham. And that is what has to be done in Bludhaven. He 
had to make amends. Just as he decided what he had to do, the door 
opened, and Alfred peered in.  
 
"Its ok, Alfie, I'm awake." Tim yelped as the butler entered the room, 
"What's wrong? Is Dick all right?"  
 
"There has been no change in Master Dick," the elder man grimaced.. "I 
can only pray that it is a good thing. Master Bruce asked me to check 
on you. He was afraid you would not be able to rest. Shall get Doctor 
Thompkins to give you a sedative?"  
 
"No! I'm fine. I'm just not tired. In fact, I've gotta go talk to 
Bruce," he admitted as he swung his legs out of bed. 
"I am sorry, young sir, but Master Bruce is not here. He has gone to 
Master Richard's apartment."  
 
"Then that's were I'm heading," Tim announced as he bounded out of bed 
and passed Alfred as he left the bedroom.  
 
Alfred chased the hurried youth out to the hall. "May I suggest sir 
that you dress before you do, so that you might not catch your death of 
cold."  
 
Tim looked down realizing he was standing in the hallway in his Scooby-
Do boxer shorts and little else.  
 
Tim turned to reenter the bedroom. Alfred mumbled supposedly to 
himself, " I guess I will have to dump this hot cup of cocoa," as they 
passed in the hall.  
 
Tim, still blushing with the realization that he nearly went out in his 
underwear, had not even noticed the tray the butler was carrying, nor 
how hungry he had been all this time. The smell of the homemade cookies 
made his mouth water. "No need, Alf. I'll drink it while I get dressed, 
and I am kind of hungry."  
 
"If you would like I could bring you a light meal. It would take only a 
moment to prepare."  
 
"No, this will be fine." Tim said as he sipped from the steaming cup of 
cocoa. He sat the cup on the dresser and slipped into his jeans, 
stopping only to take another drink. The cup was nearly empty before he 
realized something was wrong. His legs were feeling like rubber and his 
thoughts were fuzzy--but not so fuzzy that he didn't figure out what 
his problem was. Alfred had put a sedative in the cocoa. The elderly 
man caught him as his knees finally buckled.  
 
"Why?" He whispered, as he weakly pushed the man away, his eyes etched 
with betrayal.  
 
"Forgive me, Master Tim," Alfred begged, "Master Bruce was afraid you 
would not be able to sleep, as well as predicted your desire to follow 
him to Bludhaven. It was at his request that I put the sedative in your 
cocoa." The last words fell on deaf ears. Tim had already fallen 
asleep. Alfred tucked the covers around the boy and cleaned the mess 
from the floor where the drink and china mug had fallen from his hands. 
Checking again on Tim he whispered, "I am sorry, my boy, but this time 
I believe Master Bruce is right. And at least by morning you will be 
rested enough to face whatever the day may bring, including your 
contempt for me." A shadow fell across the room as he quietly shut the 
door.  
 
*** 
 
Dick wandered aimlessly among the shadows, his mind a whirlpool of 
memories. Both real and dreamt memories that kept him off-balance. 
Nothing made sense; nothing seemed real; yet everything was all too 
real. "Jason?"  
 
"~Yes? ~" The spirit replied. 

"Have we talked like this before? I mean since... uh... well since 
you... umm."  
 
Jason laughed; he'd never known Dick Grayson to be flustered. " ~Kicked 
the bucket~" he teased, "~ Bit the big one. Or my personal favorite 
bought the farm? ~" It wasn't easy, but when he realized Dick wasn't 
laughing, he wiped the smile off his face and cleared his throat.  
 
"~ Oh lighten up, Grayson, it's dreary enough around here. ~" Dick 
still didn't laugh. "~OK, to answer your question, yes, you are what 
they call a sleepwalker, in the spiritual sense. Kind of like Shirley 
McLaine but without the *novel* approach."  
 
"Yea right," Dick grunted, "Next your gonna tell me Dionne Warwick 
really has the Psychic Connection."  
 
"~You know, Grayson,~" Jason chastised "~ For someone who has worked 
with 'little green men,' flown in space craft, fought alongside mer-
people, almost married a Princess from another planet, and is currently 
holding a conversation with a kid who's been dead as you say for few 
years, you sure have a closed mind ~"  
 
A smile finally cracked through, and Dick found himself laughing. " I'm 
sorry," he giggled, "I guess I never thought of it in that context 
before."  
 
"~Actually, you have opened the barriers between life and death a 
couple of times. Once when you were Robin you crossed too far during 
meditation and nearly didn't get back. Of course it wasn't me who 
helped you get home since I hadn't even been born yet. Geesh, you're 
practically a legend here too. Then there were other times during near- 
death experiences and when you slept, but most are not able to remember 
these times because of the vale of forgetfulness. ~" 
 
"When do I go back?" The elder boy worried. "Can I go back? What are we 
suppose to do now?"  
 
Jason looked down at his feet "~Dick the world you know may have been 
drastically changed, YES, there is a way for you to get home, but it 
isn't easy, nor is it a guarantee,~" he waved his hand in the fog. 
Suddenly it cleared, and Dick found that he recognized where he was--
the Batcave's infirmary. 

"Barbara? Leslie? What are you doing here?" He queried, but there was 
no response.  
 
"~They can't hear you.~" Jason informed him as he pointed to the bed. 
Leslie and Barbara sat on either side of a body--his body to be 
precise. Both women appeared to have been crying.  
 
*Oh God I hate to see Babs cry.* he thought aloud.  
 
"~There is likely to be a lot more tears in her life and yours in days 
to come. Still not everyone is given a second chance~."  
 
"Wait a minute didn't I see this in an old Christmas movie?" Dick 
mocked in disbelief. "Let me guess-you're the ghost of Christmas 
present?"  
 
"~You say that like it's a bad thing~" Jason returned frowning "~ I 
guess I can also be called the ghost of Christmas past and future as 
well.~" Then with a wave of his hand he and Dick were standing in a 
bright light. As the glare eased, they were at beautiful bridge that 
crossed over a golden stream which looked like fire as it flowed 
innocently between Dick and the other shore. He listened as the fog 
began to lift on the other side of the water. He swore he heard the 
familiar sound of circus music. Then as the air cleared even more and 
they quickly moved inside the giant tent. Rings of lights shown down on 
the ringmaster as he announced the next act. "Ladies and gentlemen, the 
flying Graysons ..."  

High above them, costumed in the glories of gold and white, his mother 
and father acknowledged the crowd. He watched silently as a great pull 
of grief seemed to drag at him. Their performance was awe-inspiring. 
They seemed to be oblivious to him or to his guide as they flew 
undaunted by the memories of a different life.  
 
"Mom.. Dad..." he whispered as he started to cross the bridge.  
 
Jason took the youngest Grayson by the arm and pulled him back. "~ Dick 
wait a minute.~" The one-time Robin said, "~ Unlike some of us, you 
were given a unique opportunity. You can cross over. But if you do, you 
won't be able to come back~."  
 
Tears shined in the older boy's eyes as he watched his parents perform. 
For a moment it looked as if his mother were staring back. *Do they see 
me?* he wondered.  
 
"~ They can't see you. ~" Jason replied as if he heard Dick's thoughts, 
"And right now if they did, they would not recognize you."  
 
"~ They watched over you once for a long time. They refused to cross 
over. Then you, became Bruce's ward, and they worried even more. 
Although they know Bruce would never hurt you intentionally, it was 
still a great cause of concern on their side. Then one day you changed-
matured--and they realized you no longer needed them. You had Bruce, 
Batman and Alfred. Not to mention a very pretty babysitter that they 
really liked a lot. So they crossed over, unknowingly leaving behind 
all things that would bring them sorrow, including your memory. ~"  
 
These words seemed to shatter everything Dick had convinced himself was 
the way of death. He had hoped that they missed him as much as he 
missed them. Again, Jason answered him as if the words had been spoken 
out loud. "~ They do seem happy, Dick.~"  
 
Dick agreed as he wiped the moisture away from his face and tried to 
mask his pain with a smile. But it wasn't working. "Ya, I guess they 
do," he sobbed.  

" ~ Dick they will remember one day. You're one of the lucky ones, man. 
Their love for you went deep into the soul, but you had grown to be a 
strong and good person. There was nothing more worry about anymore 
because you had found someone to help you become a man. But one day 
when you too cross over, they will know and love you as always~." Jason 
turned away trying to hide his own rough tears--he wasn't so lucky. 
"~Just understand, there is no sorrow on the other side. They don't 
know you are missing in their lives right now, but it doesn't mean they 
don't still love you. You need only cross over to know that love again. 
The choice is yours. Do you cross over? ~"  
 
"No!" Startling them both, a third voice interrupted their conversation 
through the fog. Suddenly the vision vanished.  
 
Dick felt a minute of confusion; he recognized the voice and bolted in 
the direction of the sounds. Praying he was wrong. But as the fog began 
to lift he found himself face to face with the third Robin, "Tim."  
 
"~ Tim ... Drake? ~" The spirit questioned. "~ Man, talk about birds of 
a feather ~."  
 
"I don't know what this dude is trying to feed you, but you have to 
come back! We need you. Bruce needs you." He insisted then, almost as 
if someone had dragged the truth from him, "I need you."  
 
Dick seemed to be afraid of what he was seeing as he slowly reached out 
in the boy's direction and quickly pulled away before they touched. 
"How? Oh God, Jason, please tell me this is an illusion." Unlike the 
other Robins, Tim didn't seem to have a solid quality to him.  
 
"~ Well, in a way it is. ~" Jason admitted.  
 
"Is not," Tim objected. "I'm real, at least I think I am."  
 
"~ That's true too ~." Jason muttered both man and boy turned to the 
specter. "~ Like I told you before it's not unusual for some souls to 
cross over in their sleep. They are tethered to their bodies by a 
lifeline. When he awakens he'll be pulled back safe and sound. ~"  
 
Tim stood confused and scared as he faced the two ex-Robins. His 
thoughts were as transparent as his physical form. "~ Don't worry, Tim. 
What you are experiencing, ~" Todd continued to explain, "~ Is a dream-
state. You have reached a state of unconsciousness so deep that your 
soul has wandered away from its body. I guess your concern for Dick's 
safety must have brought you here. ~"  
 
Dick wasn't so quick to believe what he hearing--or seeing for that 
matter. "Is that right? Are you asleep, Tim?"  
 
"I like THAT theory more than the alternative," the youngest Robin 
admitted. "I don't think this has ever happened before. Must have been 
caused by Alf's cocoa," he recalled. "Can you believe it, he slipped me 
a mickey."  
 
"But you're ok?" Dick questioned.  
 
"Oh, just peachy. My best friend is hanging on to life by a thread, 
I've been drugged--and get this--the BUTLER DID IT. And if that wasn't 
exciting enough, while I wait to wake up, I'm hanging out with the dead 
and near-dead. Oh yeah, I'm fine thanks for asking." Tim paused to give 
the specter a menacing glare in what he thought was an underhanded 
attempt to play on Dick's emotions.  
 
"Look man, I know you miss your parents. I miss my mom, too," Tim 
explained, never taking his gaze off Jason, "but there are others who 
care about you too. Others who are alive and love you. Like Babs."  
 
"~ Hey wannabe, ~" Jason mumbled, "~ Did HE teach you that glare or 
have you just been hanging out with the Bats too long?" Tim was already 
on edge, so that Jason's taunt sparked physical violence in Tim. 

Dick easily blocked a punch that Drake took at his predecessor. "Cool 
it both of you!" he yelped having to step between the ruckusing youths. 
"You guys are acting like kids." Holding them at arms length of either 
side of him till they stopped struggling. Then he smiled. "OH 
yeah...that's right ... you ARE, kids." He laughed as he tried to walk 
away. He was thwarted as both boys popped him on the back of the head 
before he could take his first step, and the war was on.  
 
Eventually all three of the boys stopped tussling, everyone sitting, 
and staring at each other. Nobody was really sure what just happened. 
Jason decided that since he had the upper hand, maybe now would be a 
good time to explain their predicament. "Tim, I wasn't trying to talk 
Dick in to crossing over." Jason Todd began to explain. "The choice was 
given to him, because he's allowed to choose. I guess you could say he 
earned it. But more importantly the alternative will not be easy."  
 
" What do you mean? You said all he has to do is wake up and his tether 
will pull him back." Tim objected, "Come on man, Wake up."  
 
"~ No ... I said all YOU had to do was wake up for him its not that 
easy. Dick was dying...~," Todd explained, "~... his soul had already 
begun to cross over to the other side when he invoked the Tibetan 
technique that stopped him from completing the journey. It's as if he 
threw a lifeline to prevent himself from falling. ~"  
 
"Force of habit, I guess." Dick smirked.  
 
"~ Unfortunately, it created a problem or two. Now there are two lines 
that hold you to this world. One, a spiritual tether, protects you from 
the demons of this realm that will keep your soul from returning back 
to your body. But it is too weak to support your life alone. ~" he 
paused hold his hands apart as if they were pulling something in two 
separate directions "~ The second, the life line if you will, now holds 
you to your body and can lead you back, but not while your spiritual 
tether is still attached. This is were it gets a bit sticky... if the 
spiritual line breaks AND your body and soul survive the separation, it 
will leave your soul vulnerable to the spirits and tormented souls that 
haunt this realm. Some will know you and you will know them, some only 
want to help, but others will have but one goal, to see you suffer as 
deeply and painfully as they do. ~"  
 
"So what are trying to say? That he's some kind a prize in a tug a war 
and if the wrong line breaks it will kill him, and if the right one 
breaks something else will kill him?"  
 
Dick walked away from the conversation. To him, the solution was clear. 
"I have to sever the spiritual line."  
 
"No!" Tim screamed, "YOU'LL DIE!"  
 
"Like you said if the wrong one breaks I can't control the out come. At 
least the this way I have a fighting chance" 
 
"And if both lines break? Or the wrong one breaks?" The boy wonder 
countered  
 
"Then I guess I die."  
 
"~Not necessarily. ~" Jason insisted. Both Dick and Tim turned to meet 
his eyes. "~Your body can survive the separation from the Spirit. Even 
if both life tethers break, your body-your heart, lungs, and brain--can 
function without the soul, although the longer you are separated, the 
harder it will be to return. ~"  
 
"Then what do I do? Click my heels three times and say, "There's no 
place like home. There's no place like home?"" Dick asked. 
 
"~ Dorothy's return home was a picnic compared to what you face.~" 
Jason antagonized. "~ The demons you will face are angry, but one will 
be harder to defeat than all the other combined--yourself. If you lose 
faith in yourself, Dick Grayson, and your ability to know the 
difference between good and evil, and right and wrong, you will defeat 
yourself. So if you choose to go, you will have to fight, as you have 
never fought before. Remember, the loss of this fight will mean the 
lost of your very soul. ~"  
 
"Uh oh," Tim whispered, "Something's happening." Dick turned to see Tim 
appear to fade in and out of view.  
 
"~ It's OK Tim. ~' Jason explained, " ~ You are about to return home. 
~"  
 
"No! I got to help Dick. I want to stay. Please, I can help."  
 
Dick smiled. He too was afraid, but he would not risk Tim. Even if 
there were a way to stop Tim's return. "Tim, Alfred once said that 
there was an uncanny connection between the two of us. That it was as 
if our souls were connected. Maybe he is right after all; you seem to 
always be there for me. Maybe that is why you were there the day my 
parents were killed. It could be the reason you were at the pier, and 
the reason you're here now. If it's true maybe you can help."  
 
"I can, just ask," the youngest Robin begged.  
 
"Then go back, stay safe, and take care of Barbara and Bruce. If I can, 
I will return. Maybe with you there I can find my way home like you 
always seem to find me. If not, then remember the good times. My dad 
once told me that as long as there are good memories, we live in 
happiness forever." Dick felt a tear run down his face as he watched 
Tim fade from sight.  
 
"Be safe little brother," he whispered. "Be safe."  
 
**  
 
Tim awoke screaming Dick's name. The dream faded quickly in the 
afternoon light that now peaked through the drapes. He quickly fell 
from the bed, stumbling to the door as he fought against what was left 
of the sedative in his system. Bruce and Leslie both ran into the 
corridor in response to the commotion. Bruce grabbed the panicked boy, 
trying to calm his fears. "Tim! TIM!! Calm yourself! There's been no 
change since last night." Bruce insisted, struggling to keep the boy 
from tumbling down the stairs.  
 
Leslie tried to make sense of the boys words to no avail. 
"Timothy, if you don't calm down I will be forced to sedate you."  
 
"Bruce,.. Leslie ...please help him.. He's in trouble ...please don't 
let him die."  
 
"Ok, Tim, I was just heading down stairs to check on him anyway." 
Leslie confirmed 
 
Without warning, all the lights in the mansion began to blink on and 
off. Tim broke free from Bruce's grip and jumped the rail to the first 
floor and to the hidden entrance of the Batcave with Bruce close on his 
heels. They found Alfred and Barbara struggling to hold down Dick's 
seizing body. Leslie came of the elevator to the infirmary just in time 
to see the read outs on the medical board rise to normal and then fall 
to nothing. Bruce began CPR while Leslie dropped an endotracheal tube 
and fastened and air bag to it. Moments later Leslie recognized that 
his heart and lungs were finally working on their own, and the med 
board confirmed Leslie's recognition. He was still in trouble though. 
His heart was weak, his lungs were beginning to fail again, and his 
brain pattern showed that he was in coma. No, this fight was far from 
over. But these were readings she could understand, and for the first 
time since he was brought in, she felt like she had some control.  
 
After the crisis had subsided, Bruce turned to Tim who was holding a 
hysterically crying Barbara. He kept repeating, "He's back. They got 
him back." Bruce worried about his surrogate daughter, for she been 
through a lot and seen that much more, and yet this was tearing her 
apart. He placed a comforting hand on her shoulder as Alfred injected 
her with a sedative. She still rocked herself back and forth, as she 
mumbled, "Don't leave me. Please don't leave me again. Please." Her 
words were almost a whisper.  
 
Bruce asked, "Alfred what happened?"  
 
"Miss Barbara noticed a fluctuation in the monitor's reading, but when 
I looked up everything was as it had always been. Then moments later, 
the readings fluxed again. Then all of the sudden the whole panel began 
to light up, and he began to seize. I am truly grateful that you and 
Doctor Tompkins arrived when you did."  
 
"We responded as soon as we got your signal," Bruce responded.  
 
"Forgive me, sir, but both myself and Miss Barbara were too busy to 
have gotten to the alarm."  
 
Leslie walked up to the group as they tried to explain the power surge 
that probably saved Dick's life. "Tim, when we were upstairs you were 
sure Dick was in trouble. How did you know?"  
 
"I'm not sure," he whispered lowering himself to the floor and clasping 
his head in his hands. "It all feels so strange, Leslie. It was like a 
bad nightmare. When I woke up, I was more scared than ever, but now I 
cant remember any of it."  
 
"How is he?" Bruce asked.  
 
Everyone looked back at the infirmary as she explained; "Right now he 
is in a coma, his heart is strong, and he's breathing with assistance, 
but the voluntary functions are beginning to shut down. The good news 
is I can at least understand and treat these readings." She sighed.  
 
"But?" urged Bruce, who could see that there was more she was not 
saying.  
 
"If there is marked improvement in the next couple of days of so, I 
would like to discuss his case with Doctor Chambers and Doctor Newman. 
Maybe even see about moving him to a hospital or at least upstairs."  
 
The mention of her neuro-surgeon brought Barbara out of her funk, "Dr. 
Newman? Doctor Ben Newman?" Newman had been called on as a specialist 
in nerve repair to take over her case after the Joker's bullet had 
shattered her spine.  
 
"Originally," Leslie nodded, "I had hoped that his lack of response to 
stimulus in the lower extremities had been because of the mental block 
he had put up, but it would appear that wasn't the case. He appears to 
have no feeling in his legs."  
 
 
"Let's not panic," she calmly stated, hoping to keep everyone, 
especially Barbara, calm as well. "It could be temporary. After all, 
the bullet did get really close to his spine, and it may be reacting to 
the shock. But whatever the problem is, the sooner we locate it, the 
sooner we can treat it."

***
 
Even before Tim had appeared in this netherworld, Dick had made the 
decision to return if he could. It wasn't a difficult decision, and 
somehow seeing his parents made it even easier. They had no sorrow in 
the world/heaven they had found. He had been wiped clean from their 
memory, at least for now, and they were happy. So it was time for him 
to return home if he could. He was never one to leave a job incomplete, 
and Bludhaven was his job--his town--maybe even his destiny. Besides, 
he and Blockbuster had a score to settle. 
 
Jason had walked him to the opening of the cave soon after Tim left. 
The ghost's words were still ringing in his ears. Or maybe it was 
because the kid sounded a lot like his father. "Walk tall Richard 
Grayson. Hold strong the convictions of your heart. Things are not 
always what you see. Trust your heart to lead you through the darkness, 
and be brave as you cross through the netherland. Have no doubt what 
you do is right. For if you doubt yourself, the flames of forgetfulness 
will consume you and your soul will be lost forever." 
 
"No pressure there," he thought. "People all over the universe hoping 
to go to heaven, and here I am trying to get back." As he crossed 
through the opening of the cave, the tether broke. He felt as if 
lighting had struck him in the chest, burning with the fire of a 
million volts, knocking his breath out of him, and buckling his knees. 
"Nope, it didn't take a wall falling on me to think maybe this wasn't 
the brightest idea," he thought as the light around him became blinding 
and engulfed him in its nothingness. 
 
By the time the pain eased and he could think again, he was pretty sure 
he was in trouble again.  
"Giddup, kid," a familiar voice growled as it yanked him to his feet. 
That is when he noticed his feet were a lot smaller and so were his 
hands. In fact, he was no longer Richard "Nightwing" Grayson. He was 
little Dicky Grayson of the flying Graysons--right down to his 
leotards. And the growling voice belonged to a memory of his past too. 
The same voice he heard behind closed doors of a circus trailer. It 
belonged to the murderer of his parents. The man known as Tony Zucco. 
"Yous ain't gonna get off so easy as your parents, you little brat. 
I've waited along time to get even with yous. Had a long time to think 
of what I was gonna do when I caught up with you," he smiled. Zucco hit 
the little boy with such force he was slammed into a wall two feet 
behind him.  
 
"Zucco."  Somehow the words sounding less menacing coming from a 
child's body.
 
"Ya knows kid, one of these days you're gonna learn: if you had 
forgotten that name in the first place, yous wouldn't have to go 
through the hell I'm 'bout to knock yous through now." The man laughed 
as two other goons grabbed the small child by the arms and yanked in 
two different directions. Dick became frightened; suddenly flooded with 
the thoughts and memories of a 9-year-old child who, until now, had no 
reason to fear anyone.  
 
"Go ahead boss make a wish," laughed one of the creeps as the child 
struggled to free himself. The hood walked up on the defenseless child 
and punched him as hard as he could in the stomach, buckling the kid's 
knees and causing tears to flow freely from his eyes. "The one great 
thing about being dead in this place is you can't kill me, but you'd be 
surprised what I can do you." The goon laughed as they dropped the kid 
to the ground and kicked him as he lay in the fetal position. 
 
He wanted to scream for help, but couldn't catch his breath. He wanted 
to fight back, but what could a kid do against the likes of these 
goons. A regular kid might not have been able to do anything, but then 
he was no regular kid. The more they kicked him, the clearer things 
became. He remembered the first time he crossed a tight rope, the first 
time he flew as one of the flying Graysons, and the first time he 
pulled off a quadruple. These were not "regular kid stunts." He looked 
up, remembering the moment he had broken through the fear factor. None 
of the stunts were that difficult; you just had to get pass the what 
ifs, or get them to work in your favor.  
 
*What if it were Robin they were beating would he lay here and take 
it?* He looked up, and for a moment all he could see was a great shadow 
covering the sky, and a voice echoed in the back of his mind. He 
remembered how safe he felt in the strong arms of a stranger. The 
stranger who would rescue him from a hell almost as real as this one. 
The man who one day would become his friend, his mentor, and then 
eventually his surrogate father. The one man who came out of the sky 
and gave strength to the son of a man he would never know. The same son 
who had clung to the man as if he knew the man who cautiously embraced 
him was the only man in the world that could understand the way he 
felt. Suddenly Dick felt strong again. 
 
Then he remembered the day he donned the costume of the Boy Wonder, and 
the words of Jason came back to him: "things aren't always as they 
appear." A smile crossed his face as his eyes opened. He noticed that 
he was back on his feet and still just a kid, but now not just any kid. 
He was dressed in a tunic and green shorts, and a cape billowed from 
behind him. Zucco's henchmen must have crossed his path once before, 
because all of the sudden the little boy had THEM scared. That's when 
something occurred to him; this was the same man who destroyed his 
whole childhood. This was the fool who made him the man he is today. 
Because of his actions, little Dicky Grayson had become the worse 
nightmare of every hood in Gotham--and Blüdhaven.  
 
No longer a frightened child, he was trained to ignore the fears and 
anger that coursed through him every time he thought of this man. 
Instead he used them to strengthen the convictions of his mind, body, 
and soul. His memories came flooding back to him; building on every 
ounce of his being; changing him now just as they had originally until 
he was no longer a child but a man. Gone were the shorts and cape; he 
now dawned the blues of the night. This was the uniform that took him 
into his adulthood, and judging by the sound of gasps that encircled 
him, this too was a man they recognized. Now he was face-to-face with 
the scum that had so joyously attacked an innocent child. He smiled.  
 
"Ok, worms for brains, we know you're good at beating small children. 
Let's see how you do with someone your own size."  
 
"It's the Bat's kid," one of the mooks yelled just as a roundhouse kick 
slammed into his face. 
 
"I am now, but at one time I was the son of simple circus performers, 
murdered because the owner wouldn't buy protection." Nightwing returned 
as he completed his combination with a double sidekick that landed on 
another guy's nose. "And you have this guy to thank for it," he growled 
as he stood nose-to-nose with the man who murdered his parents. "I 
guess your friends don't wanna play anymore, Tony."  
 
An impish grin crossed Dick's face as he watched the other men run away 
yelling, "Zucco, you made the Nightwing, you deal with 'em," and, "This 
is all your fault Zucco, I won't forget this." 
 
"Looks like it's just you and me, Tony," Nightwing continued as sound 
of retreating feet echoed around them.  
 
"So what? What ya gonna do? Kill me, wonderbrat?" He grinned at the 
masked figure. "I'm already dead." he added with an air of arrogance. 
 
"Yea I know, and I have to admit I was hoping to find your sorry butt 
roasting over the hottest pit of hell itself, but I think I like this 
better." He laughed, as he watched a layer of self-importance peal away 
from Zucco's face. 
 
"Whaddya mean by that?" He growled. 
 
"They know now that I exist because of you. I wasn't born to this job, 
YOU made me what I am," he pointed out. "Because of you, Batman no 
longer flew alone. Because of you, they had two times the chances of 
being caught and sent to prison." Nightwing watched as layer-by-layer 
the words cut into the murderer's false bravado. "I think I would have 
accepted hell when I had the chance. Or maybe that is exactly what this 
is." The look of fear that danced across Zucco's face was more than 
even Dick could have hoped for. "As I see it," he continued, "because 
of you, some of these guys paid the ultimate price for their crimes. 
So, it would seem, in the long run it is you--not I--that is the 
catalyst for their being here. But look at the bright side; its like 
you said; they can't kill ya." He grinned, and then in a accent that 
mimicked Zucco's, he emphasized, "But you'd be surprised what dey can 
do to yous." 
 
Still smiling, Nightwing fired his jump line and disappeared from 
Zucco's sight. Zucco watched in terror as some of Gotham's and 
Blüdhaven's biggest goons stepped out of the shadows towards him. A 
scream echoed through the darken alleys, but for the first time since 
he was nine years old, Dick just walked away. 
 
*** 
 
There was still an hour before the sunset on Bludhaven. Bruce, guised 
as Matches Malone, wandered the docks of the warehouse district for 
nearly and hour before he spotted his contact. Roy Harper, the red-
headed Titan known as Arsenal, was decked out in T-shirt and jeans, 
propped against a dock piling. 
 
"Roy?" 
 
"Yea, who's askin?" Roy glared as he gave the apparent merchant sailor 
a once over. 
 
"The names Matches. Matches Malone," he grunted. "We got a mutual 
friend--Nightwing." 
 
"Ok, so what's this about?" He insisted as he hopped down to the dock.  
 
The scrubby character just sneered as he turned around and headed 
towards the warehouses. "Follow me." 
 
They wove in and out of some of the darkest looking hellholes the Titan 
had seen in a long time, which wasn't easy because this hero had been 
to hell and back in every sense of the word. They finally came on the 
other side where a large abandoned factory shadowed the waterfront. The 
sailor unfasten the master lock from the gate and quickly closed it 
again after they had passed through it.  
 
All in all the actions of this thug was beginning to make Roy nervous. 
Then, as they reached the door of the factory itself, the man, in a 
total different, yet familiar voice, whispered, "Open." A moment later, 
the door slid open and allowed the two men to pass through, quickly 
closing after they cleared the threshold. The lights came up. The Titan 
stood in awe at the vehicle chaises that hung over their heads like 
clothes in a huge closet. By the time he found his voice, Bruce had 
peeled off the false face that had given him anonymity outside the 
walls. Roy figured that something big was going down, so he hopped up 
onto the workbench and waited for the downfall.  
 
But when it was not quick in coming, he started it himself. "Ok, Bruce, 
you gonna tell me what the hell is going on or do we play 20 
questions?" 
 
"Did you hear what happened here in the warehouse district last night?" 
 
Roy rolled his eyes. "Ok," he mumbled, " 20 questions." It was one of 
the things he hated most about the older heroes--their need to test the 
youngers' knowledge. Well this time he knew the answer. "The gang war? 
Yea, my sources said something about 10 dead and 16 known injured. One 
of the biggest conflicts to go down since the civil war," he joked, 
quickly clearing his throat when he saw it had no effect on the dark 
knight. He continued, "Feds are talking about sending a task force here 
to do some high class low profile observe and reporting. When I got the 
call, I assumed Dick wanted to fill me in and see if I could keep them 
out. So, where is he?" 
 
"Dick didn't call you. I did." Suddenly the hairs on the back of Roy's 
neck went up. Last night's 'incident' wasn't a gang war. It was a 
setup; a trap." Roy began to scan the warehouse. He knew where he was. 
This was Dick's Lair. Why was the Bat here, and where was Dick? Bruce 
solemnly noted Roy's glance and then asked, "You recognize these?" 
Bruce produced spent shell casings from his pocket.  
 
An unconscious whistle of appreciation slipped from Roy's lips. Fifty 
and 60 caliber; most likely armor-piercing. He pulled two of the 
casings from the group, "These two are called cop stoppers cause 
they're intended to go through a bullet proof vest." 
 
"Or Kevlar mesh." Bruce added. 
 
That did it all the alarms in Roy's head went off at once. Trying to 
hold in panic, Roy asked, "Bruce where is Dick?"  
 
"Back at the Cave," Bruce replied in that voice. 
 
"How bad?" Roy growled, insistently. "How bad?" 
 
"Bad," was all he said as he turned away from the boy. 
 
That wasn't enough, for Roy. He wanted answers and he wanted them now! 
All those years of fear seem to melt away as he demanded, " Don't give 
me your cryptic BULL SHIT, Bruce." 
 
Bruce turned on the boy his eyes ablaze with fire, hate and contempt, 
and for the first time Roy didn't feel it was aimed at him. "When I 
left him, he was on a respirator. All voluntary functions have shut 
down." Bruce shoved his finger in the area just below Roy's rib cage " 
the bullet went in here and came out his back. If he lives--" the word 
caught in the Bruce's throat before he could control it, "If he lives, 
there is a one in four chance that the may never walk again." 
 
Suddenly the anger that had protected Roy vanished, and he was again 
afraid. But not of Bruce, or of Batman, but of the reality that Bruce 
had just so vividly described. "Oh God, I've gotta call Donna." he 
muttered as he pulled a cell phone from his belt. 
 
"NO!" Bruce screamed, turning on the young Titan. " No. No one is to 
know." he snatched the device from the boy's hand and tossed across the 
room. " Do you understand! NO ONE. If I didn't need your help, YOU 
wouldn't know." 
 
"You want my help to do what!" 
 
When Bruce turned away, he looked different. Maybe the man was tired. 
But Bruce somehow looked vulnerable. "I need..." he stopped in mid-
sentence as he realized he was again losing control, "I want you to 
become ...Nightwing." The vulnerability quickly faded, but Roy wasn't 
backing off. 
 
"Do what.. ?" Roy asked, shocked. 
 
"You're about his height and weight. It might be a little tight across 
the chest, but you've worked with him enough to know his moves and the 
way he thinks. In the dark it should be easy enough to pull off..." 
 
"Wait..." he interrupted, "Let me get this straight. You called me 
because I fit the suit?"  
 
Roy threw his hands up and was heading for the door when Bruce stopped 
him by slamming him into the wall. His voice turned to a deep growl as 
he explained, "If I thought I could pull this off without your help, 
believe me I would. THEY CAN'T WIN. Even if he dies, they can't know 
they won. Or we lose the town." 
 
Roy pushed himself away from the wall and turned on Bruce. "Now YOU 
listen to ME! Dick Grayson was...is my best friend. And you call me 
here and tell me the only reason you told me was cause I fit the suit 
and you think because of this, I can save the town. I could care less 
if this place went to hell in an hand basket." Roy rebutted. "Let them 
rot. They didn't deserve his help. But know this, Bruce, if Dick 
Grayson dies, this town will answer to me." 
 
"What will you do? Seek *revenge*?" Even without the cowl, Roy knew 
when he saw Batman. "You do that and you destroy everything he fought 
for, everything he believed in, and *for what*? Even the Feds are 
calling it a gang war. They claim he was at the wrong place at the 
wrong time." 
 
"Was he?" Roy choked out almost timidly. 
 
"When Tim brought him home, he said it was like everyone who had a gun 
was there. And he might be right. All of them after one man ... but 
that is to be expected when you have a price on your head like this," 
he handed the Titans' one-time leader a folded piece of paper. After 
one glance, Roy felt himself sliding down the wall where he stayed as 
the elder man continued. "Oracle intercepted this after growing 
suspicious of some trouble building in Blüdhaven, but it was too late." 
 
"Who...?" the redhead wondered aloud.  
 
"Roland Desmond." 
 
"The one they call the Block Buster?" Roy questioned. 
 
Bruce confirmed with a slight nod, but before he could finish the 
story, Roy was up and heading out the door again. "Then that's where I 
am going." 
 
"What do have in mind, Roy? What are your plans?" Bruce called after 
him, stopping the younger man. "The man sent over twenty men down the 
river with their head twisted backwards. Dick was there when he snapped 
the neck of a cop who had just unloaded a weapon at point blank range 
into the man. And he was exonerated before he got out of the hospital. 
You go in there unprepared and your chances of coming out are slim to 
none." 
 
"How can you take this so lightly," the kid growled. "He's your son, 
for God's sake."  
 
Bruce laughed angrily. The deep resonance almost frightened the younger 
man. Roy jumped when it stopped suddenly, and he found himself staring 
back into angry eyes. "I stood outside Blockbuster's window all night 
watching...waiting. I bypassed every one of his traps and alarm systems 
with the intention of going in and ripping the overgrown rock the 
doctors so blatantly call a heart right out of his chest. I even 
instructed Alfred to give Tim a sedative, to keep him from following 
me. But I couldn't do it. I keep seeing the deep blue eyes of the 
little boy I raised staring up at me, in total disgust and 
disappointment. Do you know what that is like?" Roy quickly turned away 
hoping to hide the anguish that flooded him. Yes he knew-- he knew all 
to well. "Don't you understand it goes against everything he believes, 
everything he stood for." 
 
"Yea, right!" The kid returned, breaking free of the guilt. "Doesn't 
anybody else see a trend here...they kill, we catch, they go free and 
kill again." The Titan smirked as he started again for the door. "Maybe 
it's time we make some changes." 
 
"Then what Roy?" Bruce asked insistently, stopping Roy again. "We 
already bypass so many "laws" to see justice done that the government 
doesn't trust us. And what happens when we break the big one, Roy? What 
happens when the innocent begin to distrust and fear us? We become no 
better than the slime we fight against," he slammed his fist against 
the workbench. "The only way to defeat Desmond is to show him he can't 
beat us. They believe they killed Nightwing last night. I overheard 
Desmond talking about some drug shipment due to leave port tonight and 
head up river to Metropolis. If Arsenal or the Batman take it out the 
cargo, it won't matter because they know we don't belong and will wait 
us out. If someone takes over, it will not be the same because they 
will believe they have beaten us before, they can do it again. Don't 
you see? They'll just wait us out or redirect until they take back the 
town. But if Nightwing returns tonight, it will start to crumble the 
foundation of that belief, and they'll turn on each other. And they'll 
think twice before they go after him again." * if they are given the 
chance.* he finished to himself involuntarily. "Please, Roy, for him." 
 
Roy had seen Batman in action. He knew all of the Bat's quirks, and 
emotion wasn't one of them. This was Bruce Wayne asking. And not just 
any Bruce Wayne, but the father of his best friend.
 
"Ok, you win. Lets see how the "suits" fits." Bruce took the kid into 
the office area of the warehouse.  
 
Walking into a small apartment built into the back rooms, he headed 
straight for the bedroom were Dick's costume had been laid out. "There 
are a couple of things your going to have to do before you can do 
this," Bruce instructed, continuing to the bathroom. Disappearing for a 
moment, he reappeared with a bottle of hair dye and a razor, and 
dropped them carelessly into Roy's hand. 
 
Roy looked at the items for a moment, and then looked up, stating, 
"Maybe you should tell me again why we don't do that whole 'ripping out 
the heart" thing again?" Bruce just walked away. 
 
When Roy came out of the back room, he found Bruce had changed into 
Batman. His cowl was pushed behind his head as he sat at the PC. He 
recognized Alfred Pennyworth, Bruce Wayne's butler and confidant, in 
the monitor. "Then I will expect them, sir." the gentlemen acknowledged 
a request unheard by Roy. 
 
"Call if there is any change Alfred. Batman out," he whispered as the 
screen went black. Batman stared at the blank screen for a moment, and 
then turned to find the faux Nightwing standing behind him. 
 
"Well what do you think?" Roy asked. 
 
"The mask fit?" he asked, not even giving Roy a second look. 
 
"It's awkward. I filled it with spirit gum. It should hold for the 
night and maybe two or three nights afterwards," he mumbled wondering 
if he would ever be able to get it off. 
 
"Good work." Batman injected. Roy could have sworn, for a moment, he 
might have seen a semi-almost maybe smirk beneath the Bat's cowl. 
 
Bruce handed Roy his cell phone. "Before we leave, call Donna. Have her 
go to the manor. You're right; he is going to need his friends with 
him. But for now, tell her not to talk to anyone about this. Alfred 
knows she's coming." 
 
"Thanks Bruce." Roy insisted. But halfway through the dialing, a heavy 
gloved hand stopped him. 
"I told you before that Dick was in a coma--" he admitted, still 
battling the deep sensation of guilt he was feeling having to even ask 
the kid to don the suit. "And that is true... But what I didn't tell 
you is that we actually lost him once this afternoon." He looked up at 
Roy with a father's concern. "They're playing for keeps, Roy. I just 
need you tonight, and I'll be out there to back you up. If it works out 
the way I think it will, you won't have to go out after tonight.." 
 
"Look, I don't know why the change of attitude, but I'm in as long as I 
feel I need to be whether or in blue or orange--makes no never mind to 
me. Dick is my friend." 
 
"You have a daughter to think about." He countered. 
 
"Yea, and I think about her every time I go out, and every kid who goes 
out on the streets. It was something Dick told me once. He said being 
Robin gave him a chance to keep every other kid in the world from 
having to face what you and he did when you were kids. I know what's 
out there, and I know what I have to lose, but I ran away once Bruce. I 
will never, NEVER, run again. Besides if anything happens to me... I 
know she will be well taken care of. So let's go."  
 
** 
 
Time had no importance here, and it seem like he had been here forever. 
No longer suited as Nightwing, Dick Grayson sat perched on the 
cathedral of Saint Stephens over what looked to him to be old Gotham. 
Even as dark as the city appeared, it was just as magnificent. He had 
always wanted to romp around the roof tops in his civvies, but he had 
always known that it would have caused a problem for Bruce's and his 
secret. The wind whipped through his hair. There was a crispness in the 
air, and everything seemed so real that for a moment he wondered if he 
had accidentally "crossed over." At least until an unexpected voice 
came over his shoulder nearly scaring the hell out of him, "Of all the 
rooftops in all the city in all the world you gotta pick mine."  
 
He turned so quickly he nearly fell off the building, but that didn't 
shake him up half as much as what he found standing behind him. A 
beautiful Auburn haired vigilante clad in cape and cowl. 

"Babs!" 
 
"That's Batgirl to you, big guy," she laughed, standing on the spire 
and smiling down at him. 
 
Dick asked, "What are you doing here?" 
 
"Hey, that's my line, Boy Wonder," she countered. "It's my dream. Not 
that you haven't been here before. You're just not usually so .... 
talkative." 
 
"So your asleep," Dick revealed. 
 
"Duh..." she mocked him looking down at her legs. "Not that your making 
it any easier, you nearly scared me to death this afternoon." 
 
Dick stepped up cupping her face in his hand, wanting so much to tell 
her everything he felt in case he didn't get back. But all that popped 
out was, "So, you dream about me?" 
 
She just laughed and leapt from the cathedral, and he magically changed 
into Nightwing and followed. He was beginning to like this ability to 
change by simply thinking about it. It was all he could do to remind 
himself that this whole thing was an illusion. " Babs! I mean 
Batgirl...wait up." 
 
They flew through the skyline like young birds unhampered by wings or 
ropes. They laughed as she led him through a game of follow the leader. 
He thought he might be able to do this forever. Then he saw her start 
to fade. She would be leaving soon. He had to tell her. He caught up to 
her and wrapped his arms around her. He guided her to the top of Wayne 
Tech, the tallest building in the city. "Babs, we gotta talk." 
 
"No," she objected. "We gotta fly. It's the only chance I get. Come on, 
Dick, fly with me." 
 
"Babs, please, you're going to wake up soon, and I don't know if I will 
ever get a chance to say this again." 
 
"No, don't talk like that." She tried to pull violently away from him, 
but he still managed to embrace her. 
 
"Babs, I love you. I have always loved you. Please, remember no matter 
what happens, I will always love you." Crying, Batgirl became Barbara 
Gordon, complete with chair. "Dick, please, please don't say that."  
 
"I love you, nothing can change that. I understand if you don't love 
me, but I will always love you." 
 
Barbara faded a little more. "I do love you, Dick. With all my heart. 
But don't you see," she emphasized by pounding on the wheels of her 
chair, "I can't love you." 
 
Dick kneeled down on his knees in front of her grabbing the chair and 
pulling her closer. "Barbara, if I find my way back and I can no longer 
walk or fly, would your feelings change? Would you love me any less?" 
Tears fell uncontrolled down her face as she shook her head. 

"Then don't expect me to be swayed by such absurd excuses. I love you." 
He smiled, pulled her face to his and kissed her. As he kissed her, she 
vanished. He stood alone again, looking for a reason from the top of 
the building. Then, in a gesture of frustration, he flung his hands 
into the air and yelled out, "Just once I would like to kiss her with 
out something interrupting." 
 
** 
 
Bludhaven was a filthy town. If any town needed a hero, it was this 
one. The rats here scurried around on two legs unencumbered by the fear 
of a trap, because some of the biggest rats wore badges. Roy watched 
from the rooftop as one of many ships in its black harbor had its cargo 
unloaded onto the docks. Dick had often complained to him about how the 
dredge of the world seemed to find their way here. The acoustics of the 
area allowed Roy to listened in on the conversation of the dock workers 
as they unloaded the ship. The topics ranged from the a debate of how 
Nightwing died, to the things that would happen to any other "hero" 
should attempt to hang his shingle in Bludhaven. 
 
"I don't know," one of the workers was saying, "Maybe we can get lucky 
and get some costumed chick, like Wonder Woman, or one of them female 
Titans from up New York ways. I can think of all kinds of things I 
would like to do with them before they die...."  
 
That did it. A flip of Roy's wrist, and the scum never knew what hit 
him. He quickly dropped as a Batarang caught him right between the 
eyes. Roy had to admit he had to practice more with that weapon; he had 
been aiming for a more intimate spot on the scum's body. Although a 
second one easily hit the man's partner before he could react and yell. 
The false Nightwing was aware of company as he saw Batman slink just 
inside the shadow on the other side of the warehouse.  
 
Roy had to admit the Dark Knight called this one. By believing they 
defeated Nightwing, they believed they were invincible. Well now was a 
good a time as any to shatter their illusions.
 
He took leave of his hiding place on the adjacent warehouse by jumping 
into the cargo net and down to the gangway of the ship they were 
unloading. Granted his entrance didn't have the flair that his friend's 
would have had but the results were priceless. 
 
Two of the men unloading merchandise immediately dumped their cargo in 
the water, and then purposefully joined that cargo. The ship security 
started to scream in a foreign tongue, and gunfire erupted all over the 
dock. And suddenly the name Nightwing was echoing all throughout the 
port by very frightened and angry voices. By the time they realized it 
wasn't a ghost that was attacking them, half of them were either taken 
down or running away as fast as their stumbling legs would take them. 
The other half on board the ship had pulled away with a better part of 
the dock in tow and were about to run right in to the Coast Guard. 
 
After rescuing those tossed in the water by rushed exit of the ship and 
trussing up all the mooks he could catch, Roy waited long enough for 
his buddies from feds to show up and then disappeared into the shadows. 
A very tired Batman met him on the warehouse rooftops. "Good work, 
Ars...uh Nightwing."  
 
"If I had known being Nightwing was so much fun I would have tried this 
long time ago." he quipped.  
 
Batman didn't even look up. "You did well tonight, Roy. And I want to 
thank you. But we still need to rattle a few more cages to get 
Blockbuster riled up enough to screw up." 
 
"I think I got the hang of it here, Mr. B.." Roy injected. "If you want 
to go home and check on your son, I think I can handle the rest," Roy 
stated confidently as he watched the feds load up the last of the 
smugglers. "Besides if it gets too sticky I can always call on some 
outsiders to help shake some cages." Roy turned to Batman in time to 
receive the older man's nod. Then Batman disappeared in to the 
darkness, never knowing that there was another set of masked eyes 
watching them from a shipping crane just across the docks. 

***
 
Finally finding a moment for himself Alfred sits alone in his room. The 
only source of light coming from a small computer-like devise sitting 
on his large desk in front of him. After many minutes of contemplation 
he straightens himself at the desk and Alfred writes: 
 
It has been nearly four days since Master Dick was brought home. I am 
taking a moment to write in this electronic journal he gave me for 
Christmas last year, in hopes it would assist me in relieving myself of 
some of the stress that has befallen this household since his illness. 
Perhaps though, it is because I am afraid he may die and I will not 
have used it. I pleasantly recall him informing me it was his attempt 
to bring me out of the 19th century. Nineteenth century indeed. I was 
using the Bat computer before he was using the bathroom. I use a quill 
when I write because I choose to. 
 
The house is ungodly quiet. I have neglected many of my chores so as to 
keep a watchful eye for Master Dick as well as for his friends. Master 
Bruce has been watching over both Gotham and Bludhaven, with the help 
of one of the young master's comrades from the Titans. The one they 
call Arsenal. He is donning the costume of Nightwing while he is 
working in Bludhaven. Since he arrived here after his first night out 
as Master Richard's alter ego, I have endeavored to secure for him a 
costume that fits. It is a wonder that he didn't rip a seam in the 
other one. His chest is a bit broader than the young master's. But that 
is the only flaw in his deception that I have seen. 

He has even dyed his copper red hair to Master Richard's jet black. 
Master Dick is giving us quite a scare. I remember the look on Master 
Timothy's face when he told us that the young sir was dead. It was as 
if someone had ripped the soul from that child, and then came and stole 
mine as well. I thought that, after all these years, I would be ready 
for this possibility. I had spent a long time agonizing myself to 
prepare. Then, after young Master Jason was laid to rest, I prayed I 
would never have to face a day like that one again, although I know I 
handled myself with dignity and decorum. I had to. Master Bruce had 
taken leave of his senses; unable to cope with his loss, he had buried 
himself deep into his work. For a short period of time afterwards, he 
had become so violent I was often too busy trying to keep him alive to 
do anything else.  
 
Until the day Master Timothy filled that gaping wound.  
 
Then came that night in which I feared we would have to relive that 
terrible tragedy; when Master Bruce received the news of young Dick's 
demise. I had feared that his pain would get the best of him again. He 
had run downstairs with poor Doctor Leslie in tow while shouting orders 
to prepare the medical lab, and to make sure that the special equipment 
was up and working. We were still bringing it up when the vehicle 
Master Dick had dubbed the Nightbird pulled in to the cave.  
 
Bruce had carried him from the car and had lain him on the medical bed 
while I was still struggling to bring the equipment up. I could tell by 
the look on poor Leslie's face that she was about to pronounce him dead 
when the machinery came up. The colors lit up the board showing a 
steady flow of oxygen and blood circulating through his body. I have 
thanked God every minute since we discovered that Master Richard still 
lives. It seems he had invoked some kind of trance so deep that even to 
the normal monitors it appeared he had died. Luckily the special bed, 
designed with the help of the members of the Justice League, was able 
to pick up the quiet flow of his life's blood and the inaudible wisp of 
breath that kept him alive.  
 
Doctor Thompkins and I had performed emergency surgery in unfathomable 
conditions, repairing what damage we could find and  
praying that we had found all of Master Dick's injuries, for, without 
the normal readings, we had no clue as to whether or not he was 
mending, or even if he would. There was nothing left to do but wait and 
pray. It had been nearly two hours later when I discovered Master 
Timothy still in the automobile asleep. I can only imagine the pain the 
poor child was feeling. And the confusion that he must have felt when 
he found out that Master Richard lived. He had collapsed to the floor 
in an uncontrolled outpouring of tears. I was actually grateful he gave 
in to his emotions, for that doesn't happen very often in this place.  
 
Later that night, I was directed to give a sedative to young Master 
Timothy, and he slept all of the night and most of the afternoon. I 
found out later that he had awoken to a nightmare screaming that Master 
Richard was in trouble. Although he claims to have no lasting memory of 
the dream itself, I believe it was a Godsend, for his fears had brought 
Master Bruce and Miss Leslie downstairs at the most opportune time. 
Master Richard had been experiencing a seizure and had gone into 
cardiac arrest directly afterwards. I truly believe that it was because 
they got there so quickly that Master Richard still lives. 
 
At this time he still lies in a coma. There has been no positive change 
since the seizure, and per the doctor's request we have moved him to 
the Manor. A world-renown neuro-surgeon, Dr. Newman, as well as 5 other 
specialists in the medical field are currently examining him. The 
prognosis is not looking good. At this time, they say that unless 
Richard awakens in the next 48 hours it is possible that he will not 
awaken at all. Since Master Bruce has requested that no one be told of 
the true cause of the young master's injuries, the doctors are being 
told it was a mugging in the streets of Gotham. The official story is 
that he had driven himself home and had been treated here until the 
doctor could be called. Commissioner Gordon came to the manor and 
handled the paper work himself. He said he understood why we wanted to 
keep the story under wraps, but he was angry at the fact that Master 
Bruce requested that the case be closed and nothing be done to find 
this mugger. "I will not have my son's name dragged through the mud 
like those wolves do to mine," he had said. I don't believe I have ever 
heard Master Bruce admit his paternal feelings towards Master Dick to 
anyone before. It most definitely stunned the Commissioner. He informed 
us that in fact he could not close the case and should young Master 
Richard die it can remain open forever. Still Master Bruce was 
unwavering and thankfully for now the commissioner let the subject 
drop. 
 
Mistress Barbara had been sleeping when her father had been called. We 
explained to the commissioner that we had to sedate her after the young 
master's brush with death. The commissioner was told that Richard had 
been on his way here to meet her for a date, and that Doctor Thompkins 
felt it necessary to sedate her when she began to come apart 
emotionally. Bruce told him he was welcome to come and go as he pleased 
while she was here, and asked me to set up a room next to hers. He 
declined, stating that he knew she was in good hands, and that he would 
come back in the morning and check on her. Which he did.  
 
Leslie had to leave shortly after we moved Master Richard his room. 
Doctor Newman and some of his medical staff were flown in, so that we 
were not long without a doctor in the house. Ms. Donna Troy has also 
joined us. Mr. Harper had been given permission by Master Bruce to call 
her before for he had taken on his role as Nightwing. She was the only 
one Bruce would allow to be told of the incident. Before giving his 
permission, Master Bruce had called me to ask my opinion; I told him 
that I felt it was a very good idea, not only for Master Richard but 
for Miss Barbara as well. I imagine that the situation is stressful 
enough without being the only young lady in the house. Misses Barbara 
and Donna have been talking pretty much since Miss Barbara woke up. 
Currently, they are sitting in the kitchen waiting for the report from 
the doctor. Speaking of the kitchen, I should be getting dinner ready, 
so I will give myself leave of this entry.  
 
Alfred closed the top on the small keyboard and headed for the door. 
But he didn't get out the door before he returned, reopened the cover, 
and pressed the delete button. "If only all our anguishes were that 
effortlessly erased," he spoke softly to himself.  
 
With no way of knowing how much time had passed, it began to feel like; 
well for lack of a better description; a lifetime. Alfred could hear 
the winds outside and they sounded as though they were growing cold and 
stale. The only source of illumination was strangely ambient, adding to 
the coldness that he was beginning to feel in his soul. He was tired 
and alarmingly found the thought of giving up a viable option.  
 
He found it curious that this world he lived in now resembled the one 
he grew up in; war torn, dark and seemingly soulless. He studied his 
senses' reports as he made the dark trek to the kitchen. The stench of 
death hung over the cheerless hallway like an eerie morning fog. Its 
dark crevasses were endless. As he made the long-ago memorized journey, 
he found himself in the same familiar dark passages.  
 
** 
 
The winds created excruciating howls and cries of sorrow, and the 
shadows began to close in on him. Memories, horrible memories, seemed 
to attack his very being. Faces of the innocent that he was unable to 
save attacked his mind. He was cornered with nowhere to run, and for 
some reason he couldn't fly or even change into Nightwing. Whatever he 
was going to face, he would face as Dick Grayson. He wasn't sure it 
would matter now anyway. His mind was becoming muddled; his thoughts 
were drifting, scattered as if tossed to the winds and lost. He had 
failed. He was lost; mind, body, and now soul. It was time to give up. 
He couldn't even remember what he had been fighting for.  
 
He could feel death's cold hands reach out of the shadows pulling at 
him in all directions. Hands reached from the ground pulling at his 
ankles, and bodiless arms grabbed at his shirtsleeves from out of the 
shadows. He struggled but to no avail. Stumbling to the ground, he 
found himself too tired to fight any longer. Then a voice echoed in his 
head--a strange but somehow familiar melodic voice spoke to him, ~Give 
up now and you lose everything you fought so hard to keep.~ It was as 
the words were pushing away the feelings of defeat; as if some stronger 
being was pushing at him from inside. 
 
"What do you know." Dick shouted over the screaming in his head, as he 
struggled to get his footing. "What do you know?" 
 
"~ I know that you don't give up. Not on anything, not on anyone. Not 
when there was so much to lose.~"  
 
The words seem to explode in his mind. He fought against the confusion. 
Bracing his head in his hands as if he thought he might be able to 
contain the last fleeting memories by doing so, he cried out, "And how 
can you know, what I will or will not do when I don't even know 
myself?" He cried out, feeling painfully empty once more, "How do you 
know what I will or will not give up on? I can't even remember."  
 
"I know because--because you never gave up on me," the spirit 
announced, "It is not in you to give up, Richard." 
 
The spirit stepped out of shadows. The figure was that of a friend he 
did recall, as memories of a different time and place flooded back in 
his mind. He recognized everything from the locks of curls that adorn 
his head like a golden crown and the piercing eyes of blue to the 
costume not unlike that of a 14th century nobleman's tunic and mantle. 
In another life he knew this man as both friend and enemy, in another 
life this man was Joseph Wilson the titan known as Jericho. 
 
"Joey?" he whispered, as tears seem to fall unceremoniously to the 
ground.  
 
Joe Wilson was a comrade in arms and a good friend. That was until the 
souls of Azareth, which had possessed his body, had finally taken over 
his mind. He could remember that time as if it were yesterday. Yet he 
couldn't remember why he was here or even where here was. He  
remembered the first time he was told how Joey had became a mute at the 
hands of his father's enemies, and he remembered the first time  he had 
heard him talk. That had been the only positive thing that had happened 
that night. Before then, he had been his friend, and, in a way, his 
confidant. There are just some things you can't keep from a guy who can 
phase from his body into yours.  
 
Richard's thoughts began to erupt in to painful memories. In his heart 
he knew it wasn't Joey, but the tainted souls inside the boy that did 
the things that haunted his mind, but it didn't stop him from jumping 
away when the spirit stepped closer. Fear invaded again. 
 
~You have nothing to fear from me Dick I will not harm you, I only wish 
to help.~  
 
"I know, Joey," he whispered, feeling somewhat childish for stumbling 
away from a man he once considered friend. "It's 
just ... just...." Turning away from the specter, he closed his eyes as 
if it would hide his embarrassment, "I don't know what it is." 
 
~"That's ok, I know what it is."~ Joey smiled sheepishly sitting on a 
box that Richard didn't remember being there earlier. ~"The last time 
you saw me, I roughed you up."~ His voice came sorrowful and weak. ~"I 
hurt you physically and mentally, as well as my other friends."~ he 
admitted, ~"I am sorry. I am so sorry."~ Richard watched as tears 
silently streamed down his face too. ~"You were my best friends...and I 
nearly killed you all."~ He whispered. 
 
"No, what happened wasn't your fault," Dick interrupted. "If anyone was 
at fault it was me. I should have seen it, I should have known 
something was wrong." 
 
~"Known what Dick? That I wasn't alone in my body?"~ Joey laughed 
eerily, ~"I didn't even know. And what would you have done? Kill me?"~ 
 
"NO!" Dick protested. 
 
~"It was the only way to free me."~ Joey stated. 
 
"No! There had to be another way. I just... I just...I just 
couldn't...." 
 
~"Is that why you attacked my father, because you felt there was 
another way? Or was it because in your heart you knew there was no 
other way to help me and it wasn't in you to do it?"~ 
 
"I...I...OH God." Dick collapsed at feet of his friend, suddenly 
feeling empty and more frightened than he had felt in years.  "You were 
my friend, I should have been able to think...." 
 
~" You are human, more so than any other hero ... including your 
mentor."~ Joe sat next to his friend, and lifted Richard's 
chin so that he see into his eyes. Dick's eyes clouded with such 
undeserved pain.

 ~"Why is it that you can't seem to accept your humanity as anything 
but a fault? "~ Joe stopped him before he could object. 
 
~"You forget I have quite literally walked in your shoes. I know your 
feelings."~ He laughed, ~"You have found it in your heart to forgive 
everyone, everyone that is but yourself. If you are to leave this realm 
you are going to have to find that same strength that forgave me for 
what I did to you."~ Joey started to fade ~"and forgive yourself."~ 
 
"JOEY!" He screamed out as his friend's last words echoed off the 
barren walls of the alley. 
 
~"The demons of this realm are nothing compared to the one you fight 
within."~ 
 
Joey faded from sight, leaving Dick to dwell on his words. 

*** 
 
Roy had spent the most of the night with the feeling he was being 
watched. Not that it slowed him down; there was too much to do and no 
time to do it. He had been in this hellhole for only a week and he 
hated it. Give him the big city any time; it's safer. He sat on the 
ledge watching the lightning show across the river. *Even the Gods are 
angry,* he thought as he watched the curtain of rain close off the view 
of the Bat's hometown. Geesh, he missed New York. Actually, hell was an 
improvement to this place.  
 
He was getting homesick. He had talked to Lian only a couple of times 
since this all started. Garth said she had become quite the "uncle's 
little helper, and could change a diaper like a pro." They had gone 
swimming every day so far, and she has, for the most part, taken full 
control of the Titan's Tower. *Spoiled? Not my princess. If anything 
she's smart.* He had never lied to her about what he or any of the 
Titans did, or why. But it was killing him to not tell her the whole 
truth now. Oh, she understood that he was helping her Uncle Nightwing, 
and he wasn't sure how long he would be away. But every time she asked 
to speak to Dick. He would tell her he was asleep or wasn't here right 
now. Something that wasn't quite a lie. It seemed to make her a little 
more at ease for a while, but last night she asked him if Uncle 
Nightwing could call her tomorrow when he got up. Roy never could get 
away with half-truths--at least not with the women in his life. He 
wasn't sure why he thought his little princess would be any different.  
 
Roy was so absorbed in his thoughts that he didn't hear his rooftop 
stalker until he felt a cold blade against his throat. "I know who you 
want me to think you are," came a cold feminine voice, 
 
"What I want to know is what you have done with the real Nightwing."  
 
Roy first instinct was to fight, but he suppressed it because of the 
cold grip of the knife at his jugular. He felt the knife's grip get 
tighter, as if she were reading his mind. "Um, look, your one up on 
me," he growled, "I don't know who you are, but I always live by the 
rules; if it looks like a bat and walks like a bat, it's a bat. So 
tonight I am Nightwing. And tomorrow. And as long as it takes. And 
that's all you need to know." 
 
"Then the rumor is true. He's dead." Roy jumped out of the grasp of his 
captor as soon as the grip loosened. He spun, ready for a fight, when 
he recognized the sleek shapely costume of his assailant. He 
straightened as he said incredibly, "HUNTRESS? ... How?"  
 
"I have my ways," she whispered as tears glistened behind her mask. 
 
"No, I meant how did you know I wasn't Nightwing?" The only answer came 
from a crimson blush that crossed her cheeks. 
 
Roy knew that blush. "YOU? ... HE?" His eyes got so wide that she 
thought they might pop from the socket "Man, I gotta find out where he 
buys his Wheaties." 
 
Huntress ignored his blustering and readied her jump line. "The man who 
pulled the trigger that killed him is dead," she told him. "Killed the 
night you did your little raid on his drug deal." 
 
"Please tell me you weren't involved." Roy pleaded.  
 
"I wish. No...Your masquerade is working. Blockbuster did it. Ripped 
his head from his shoulders. Quite a sight to watch, but I think he got 
off easy. As for the kingpin... you go ahead and play dress up. I'm 
going to avenge my ... friend." 
 
"No, wait," he yelped, trying to regain control of this situation. 
*Think, Harper, how would Batboy do this?* He spoke out loud, "First of 
all, Di... Nightwing.. He's not dead..." He could tell by her glare 
that she knew he was not telling the full truth. *Women,*  He grimaced 
realizing he had fallen in to that same trap again. He continued 
quietly, "At least he wasn't when I left him this evening." 
 
Roy watched as his companion lowered herself to the ledge, clasped the 
cross she wore around her neck, and whispered something he couldn't 
hear. Roy watched her for a second before he continued, "Second... you 
kill anyone in his name and you will tarnish his soul, forever. Please 
let us do this our own way for now." 
 
"Did the Bat tell you that?" she laughed.  
 
"No. An Old Navaho shaman." He whispered, "It didn't make much sense 
until now... please." She stared at him as if his word hit some kind of 
soft spot in her mental armor. It seemed like forever before either of 
them moved, and even when she did, she simply headed for the ledge. 
Before she left, Roy stopped her with, "What are you going to do?" 
 
"Far be it for me to second guess the wisdom of an ancient people," she 
whispered, "But don't assume I have changed my mind, either. For now we 
will play it your way... Nightwing. Call me if you need me. I will not 
be far away." She turned to face `Nightwing.' 
 
"Look I know I don't fit into the Bat's realm of "Good Guys," but I 
have grown quite fond of that... particular shade of blue," she 
continued as she moved her hand gently across the emblem on his chest. 
"I would like to be told if there is any change.. either way ... 
Please." 
 
"How do I reach you?" Roy asked, understanding. 
 
"Like I said, I will be close by, just whistle," she replied. 
 
** 
 
"As if the Gods themselves were crying," Donna mumbled as she stepped 
inside from the balcony. "It has to be the darkest night I have seen in 
a lifetime." 
 
The storm's lightening and the machines' eerie glows were the only 
light in the room. Except for the machines' almost silent hiss, there 
had not been any noise in the room for an hour and a half before Donna 
spoke. Alfred had dropped off tea and biscuits in case they got hungry. 
He had even freshened the ice water on the bedside table. Tim had 
fallen asleep in the chair in the corner where he had been sitting for 
most of the last day, and Barbara sat next to Dick's bed softly 
caressing his left hand to her cheek.  
 
Noting Barbara's action, Donna laughed quietly, "Once, when we were 
younger, I broke that hand." She returned to her chair on the other 
side of the bed as a tear began to fall down her cheek. "It seems 
funny, but I don't have many memories of my past, but every now and 
then when one pops up it has him in it." 
 
"Me too." Barbara smirked, mimicking Donna's quietness. "After this," 
she gestured to her chair, "I thought it would be easier to just 
forget. I thought it wouldn't hurt so much if I forgot about my life... 
my loves. But he kept popping up out of nowhere with that silly grin on 
his face. No mater what I did, no matter what I said, he kept coming 
back. I even changed the security system to my apartment. And the next 
day when I got back from one of my doctors visits, I found him inside, 
disassembling the sink to lower it so that I could use it. He remodeled 
my whole apartment." 
 
"I remember," Donna piped up, "The clown or something like that, 
right?" Her eyes widened in horror, "Oh, oh, Great Hera, forgive me I 
am sorry.. I am so sorry. That was vulgar.. I wasn't thinking." 
 
"It was the Joker, and don't worry about it. I came to terms with it a 
while ago." 
 
"Still, I am sorry. I spoke out of turn. It's just that it affected 
Dick so much. He worried so much about you." 
 
"He was my knight in shining spandex," she giggled under a small torrid 
of tears. "I tried so hard to keep everyone out of my life; I wanted 
him to only remember me like I was before." 
 
"He was scared for you, I remember, but he never pitied you." 
 
"I know," Barbara choked, knowing her emotions were no longer in check. 
"I think I have always known. It's just so different, and I hate the 
thought that I have to depend on anyone else," she whimpered. "I just 
pray that he doesn't have live like... this." 
 
Barbara broke it to tears, and Donna got up to rush over to her side. 
Donna knelt down to embrace her friend, and they cried on each other 
shoulders. It seemed an eternity before either could get gain any 
control of their tears. 
 
"Guys, are you ok?" They both looked up to find Tim standing over them. 
 
Babs answered for both as she said, "Yeah, kid, I guess I tripped over 
my memories and hurt myself." She laughed and cried at the same time.  
"I'm sorry." She whispered wiping away her tears and then Donna's.  
 
Donna regained her feet as Tim knelt down next to Barbara. He simply 
waited for her get control of her emotions, not sure of what he could 
say to help her. He soon sat on the floor, placing his head on his one 
raised knee looking up at them. Moments later, Donna sat next to him, 
and they both watched patiently as Barbara started a well-versed 
routine that ended with her legs in a pretzel shape and Babs herself 
propped against the wall. 
 
Donna glanced at the her two friends and laughed, "I think we used to 
do this when I was a child. They called it... a night to remember." 
 
"Sorry Donna, but this is one night I wish I could forget." Babs 
injected. "In fact that could go for the whole week." 
 
"I know this might sound strange but I don't ... I don't ever want to 
forget again. I admit they aren't all happy memories but they are 
good." Donna thought aloud. "Sometimes I think I wouldn't have any 
memories if it were not for my friend's recollections." 
 
"As long as there are good memories we live in happiness forever." Tim 
recited sleepily. 
 
"That's beautiful, Tim." The Amazon mused. 
 
"Yea, Boy Wonder what book did you dig that one out of," Barbara 
teased. 
 
" I think... Dick said it?" Tim recalled as lightning flashed and again 
lit the room in a gloomy haze. "He said ... Those we love can live 
forever in our memories... or something like that. I don't remember 
when he said it, I guess it was when mom died. I'm not sure." 
 
"Diana says it is good to get together and look back on shared 
experiences. On nights like this we would gather in the great hall and 
share memories. Most of them were about great battles. Others were 
about fallen friends and heroes, and sometimes we would just talk about 
our loves." 
 
"Hell of a slumber party," Barbara awed. 
 
"I thought you were an island of women?" The young robin peeped. 
 
"We are," She stated matter-of-factly, giving Tim a puzzled look. 
 
Tim's eyes bulged, and his jaw dropped open before he could shut 
abruptly. It was if he were about to say something but thought better 
of it. 
 
Barbara and Donna turned to each other and laughed. "I'm sorry, I don't 
mean to laugh," Donna giggled unsuccessfully in her attempt to get 
control of her smirk. "Not everyone on the island is found on a 
doorstep, stolen from others... and we do have... needs." 
 
"I'm sorry too, Tim," Barbara paused holding her teeth tightly together 
as if she was going to explode into laughter again. "But I did mean to 
laugh." 
 
"Gee, thanks," Tim answered sheepishly. 
 
"I'm sorry... really... it's just that... well that was the same look 
Dick gave me the day Bruce tried to explain the birds and the bees to 
him for the first time. He was only ten, and I was babysitting him that 
night." She laughed. "I will never forget it... he came out of the den 
with this... well ... kinda like... `I thought I understood but now I'm 
not so sure'... look. I would have given anything to know what it was 
Bruce said. Dick wouldn't even tell me why the subject came up. I was 
lucky to have found out what the conversation was about at all." 
 
"You got to give him credit; he was good at keeping secrets." Donna 
commented. 
 
"Yea, it comes with the costume." Tim grunted almost melancholy. 
 
"Roy and I were discussing that just this morning. For the longest time 
the only thing the other members of the Titans knew about our teammate 
and leader was he was smart, polite, and had the cutest legs... well 
ok... I thought he had the cutest legs..." she corrected at the sound 
of snickering coming from her companions, "And his eyes were bluer than 
the springs of Paradise Island. But when it came to who he was behind 
the mask, he was worse than a palace soldier is when it came to 
guarding his identity." 
 
"And that's only because he was protecting everyone else." Babs 
announced. 
 
"Yeah, I know," Donna, answered. 
 
"And they are not the easiest boots to fill," Tim agreed. "I wasn't 
even a kid when I started," he stated, then quickly rephrased his 
sentence when the girls started to laugh again. "Well not as young as 
he was. Anyway, it's all I could do not to scream at the top of Gotham 
Towers, `I am Robin, the Boy Wonder.'" He threw his hands in the air in 
a mock form of victory. "Or at least beat up on a couple of the bullies 
at school."  
 
"I think it was harder on Dick because the Titans were the only friends 
he had really," Barbara announced. "It's not like he grew up in a 
normal lifestyle even before his parents' death. And except for Alfred, 
Bruce, and me he couldn't talk to anyone about anything that happened."  
 
"Roy said," Donna, giggled, "That once we did know who he was. It was 
like... Umm... lifting a rock off a geyser. There was so much pressure 
underneath that rock, once ya let loose we all bound to get wet."  
 
Tim laughed for a moment, then recalled, "I guess sometimes what is a 
tragedy for someone can be the best thing that ever happened to 
others," Tim surmised, "And somehow it seems so wrong to even think 
like that." 
 
"What do you mean?" Barbara encouraged. 
 
"Well, if Dick's parents had not been murdered, we might never have met 
him."  
 
"Yeah, that's true." Barbara added, "And Batman would have never had a 
Robin."  
 
"I guess that is what you would call a mixed blessing," Donna agreed. 
"I would have never met my best friend. Never been a Titan. And 
probably would have never known who I am."  
 
"I remember the day I met him," Tim offered, "It was that day. My first 
trip to the circus. If my dad had not convinced my mom that little boys 
love the circus and are not afraid of clowns and tigers, I would have 
never met him at all, or discovered his identity." He yawned starting 
to feel emotionally drained.  
 
"You knew his parents?" Donna awed. As she poured herself and the 
others a glass of water from the pitcher Alfred had left in the room. 
 
"Well, kind of. My dad said that he asked them to pose for a photo with 
me because he thought I would acclimate to the fact that they were a 
family just like we were. You know the mother, father, and son. You 
probably have seen the photo--it is on the wall in the hallway and in 
his room. My mom sent it after she heard he had been placed as Bruce's 
ward."  
 
"The little boy! The one on his lap." Donna exclaimed, "I didn't 
realize. You have known him longer than any of us." The Boy Wonder 
smiled, his tired eyes fighting to stay open in the dark. "But you were 
so young. You probably don't have a lot of memories of that night."  
 
The former Batgirl chuckled, "I'm sorry," she giggled, "Actually he has 
quite a vivid memory of that. It was how he got the job as Robin... he 
figured out who Batman was." They both looked over to find the Boy 
Wonder who was now asleep against the wall. Barbara reached over to 
lower the boy into her lap. 
 
"Sweet dreams, kid." Barbara whispered. Gently wiping a tear that had 
fallen down his cheek.  
 
"Funny, but if it had not been for this tragedy I might not have even 
met you. For the longest time, you were no more than someone else's 
memory, and now you are my sister." Donna smiled. 
 
They took their glass of water and clanked them ever so gently 
together. "To good memories and good friends," Barbara said.  
 
They spent the rest of the night sharing memories and dreams, and all 
the other things friends share, unknowingly under the watchful eyes of 
another. 
 
*** 
 
Bruce had not been much of a host. Except for the doctor, or 
occasionally Alfred, he was avoiding everyone. He tried to maintain his 
patrols of Gotham, but something kept pulling him back. He would sit an 
hour with Dick, just talking, but not saying anything. Then he would 
wander off to his room and to bed, or so he let the others think. When 
he was available, he would check in with the doctor. Call the office 
and then disappear again. Everyone presumed it was to the cave. But 
most of the time, it would be to a little office behind a mirror in the 
ballroom. This area of the manor was rarely seen even by him unless 
"Bruce Wayne" was throwing some charity gala.  
 
It had been the music room when he was a child, and the office behind 
the wall was actually at one time his playroom. He had simply taken out 
the door and added a mirrored panel. Part of the mirror was actually 
two-way glass; one would be surprised what kind of dirt can be dug up 
at a soirée, and in fact the whole mansion was riddled with hidden 
cameras and microphones. Just short of voyeurism.  
 
He spent a lot of time in there watching the goings on in the makeshift 
ICU he had put together for Dick's care. He even built a monitoring 
room with the same type of glass that was used in his limousine, 
darkened so that the medical staff could keep an eye on him, but not 
disturb anyone who might want a private moment with his son. His 
cameras showed both rooms and the others who visited his son. He could 
listen in on the conversations between the doctors and the rest of the 
staff, and sometimes he would listen to the memories of his son's 
friends. He didn't feel guilty eavesdropping as Dick's friends rambled 
for hours about the things they did or would do again when he is up and 
around. If anything he felt jealousy. Dick's friends were good people, 
and good friends were something he never allowed himself to have until 
Dick came along. 
 
It hadn't occurred to him that Tim had actually known the boy he 
considered a son longer than he had. And honestly it didn't matter. He 
was just glad that Dick had taken such interest in the boy. He sometime 
wondered if, given the chance, Dick could have done the same with 
Jason. But then it was like Tim said; a lot of things blossom in the 
wake of some of the greatest tragedies.  
 
If he had been thinking, he would not have fired Dick as Robin in the 
first place. It wasn't that he wanted someone new to do the job; he 
only wanted to keep the child he considered his son safe. When Dick 
left, it left such an empty spot in Bruce that when Jason came along he 
took him in. The kid was not intended as a replacement for Robin but a 
replacement for Dick. Why couldn't he see at the time that they were 
one and the same? It seemed like the logical step when he took the 
costume from his former partner and gave it to his new son.  
 
Yes, he had even taken it one step further; he had adapted this boy.  
He was going to be the father that he never was to Dick he was going to 
train him to take the mantle, follow in his father's footsteps, and to 
be everything he wanted Richard Grayson to be. There was just one 
problem... he wasn't Dick. Dick's ability to go that step further 
stemmed from the wonderful parents he had had growing up in the circus, 
as did the acceptance of responsibility. Training was a way of life for 
them, and so it was for their son. He was every bit the trooper, 
because it was what he was born to be. But Jason.. Jason didn't have 
that. He had already been in his teens when stole the tires of the 
Batmobile. He had been a street urchin with no one. His dad was lowlife 
that ended up getting himself killed by lower lowlifes, and his mother, 
well that was someone he never knew... until the day Jason died. 
 
Tears flooded his eyes as the memories came rushing in. 
 
He was so angry at the world, and the only one he had to take it out on 
was the scum of Gotham and Dick. When Dick didn't show up at Jason's 
funeral, he had cut all ties to the kid. He never wanted to see him 
again. By the time Bruce found out that the Titan leader wasn't even on 
the planet at the time this all happened, he had already had his 
mindset. He needed nobody. And that was just fine by Dick. That was 
when Tim showed up, hunting down the leader of the Titans to try and 
make him return to his role as Robin the Boy Wonder. Dick said you 
could have scooped him off the floor with a shovel when the kid not 
only told him who he was, who his persona was, and who he had been 
before all that, but who Bruce and Jason were. Then when Tim had shown 
Dick some photos he had taken of a fight Batman had had with some scum 
who had nearly killed him when normally Batman could have taken them in 
his sleep, Dick had came back home to try to protect Bruce from 
himself.  
 
Tim tried to tell Dick that it wasn't Nightwing Batman needed, but 
Robin. But then Dick knew he could never go back. Next thing Bruce knew 
he was being saved by a child clad in green, red, and yellow, and not 
long after that, he was back to training another Robin. This time was 
different. He was not replacing a son-Tim even still had his father--he 
was just training a partner. Someone to keep him in check. 
 
And in some strange way he got himself another son. For a man who had 
not been known to have fathered any children, at least none that DNA 
can prove, he had one hell of a family. One he was truly proud of.  
 
One he desperately didn't want to lose.

***
 
Barbara observes:
 
I was the last to enter the den. Something was wrong. I could feel it 
in the air. *All the clues are in front of me,* I realized. *Alfred is 
seated next to Doctor Leslie... Alfred never sits in the presence of 
anyone other than family. A very tired Roy Harper is huddled next to 
Donna on the love seat. This was the time he usually sleeps before 
going out on patrol in Bludhaven, and the biggest clues of all are 
seated in the large chairs by the fireplace. The first was Bruce 
Wayne's lawyer, the other was Dad.* 
 
"I'm sorry I'm late." I whispered, debating whether or not to turn tail 
and run. Instead, I pulled up next to dad's chair and took his hand. 
 
Bruce turned from were he stood at the fireplace with Dr. Newman and 
another lawyer. With a blank expression on his face he swallowed. 
"That's quite all right, Barbara." 
 
It took a few minutes more to get back his composure. Just another 
clue. "Before I get to the reason I called you all here, I wanted to 
give Doctor Newman a few minutes to talk to you, as Dick's closest 
family members. Doctor." 
 
"Thank you, Bruce." Doctor Newman glanced up at the man I assumed was 
his lawyer, and then back to the small gathering of people. "This is 
quite unusual, but seeing how Bruce is Dick's only next of kin and 
legal guardian, and since Mr. Grayson is incapable of giving his 
permission, I have agreed to do as he requested and inform you of the 
situation. This afternoon I informed Mr. Wayne that the chance of his 
son ever awakening form his coma is slim to none." 
 
*Scream! I want to cover my ears and scream! Tell them they are wrong! 
Damn it, Barbara, say something! Donna has already started to cry 
openly, why can't I scream? Why can't I shut him up? I don't want to 
hear anymore! I don't want to listen! I can't... Tears?... No! I don't 
want to cry! Why are my attempts of muffling these sobs not working?!* 
 
"I am sorry to have inform you of this, I truly wish there were 
something more I could do." He continued carefully. 
 
*My tears have a life of their own. Dad is pulling me into his arms. 
NO! I won't believe this! Why can't I scream? Say something, Barbara! 
Doesn't he understand he is talking about the man I love?* 
 
"I gave Mr. Wayne the only two options I believe are open to him now. 
The first is to leave him in his current vegetative state, on life 
support until which time all of his bodily functions completely shut 
down. With our technologies, his body can be kept alive for years." 
 
*I'm not the only one unable to speak,* I glanced over at Alfred 
through the tears. I watched as his noble jaw jutted outward, unmoving 
Not a even quiver. His jaw was clinched so tight that I thought it 
might break if he tried to speak. 
 
"I have given Bruce a list of very good medical centers that care for 
such patients," Dr. Newman volunteered. "The other option is to go 
ahead and remove him from life support and let nature take its course. 
Mr. Grayson is a organ donor so it would be best to have him 
transported to Gotham General first so that they will be able to 
harvest his organs." 
 
*Man, and I thought Batman was cold.* 
 
"NO!" A voice caught my attention. At first I thought maybe that voice 
would lend its power to me so that I could finally speak, but then I 
saw Bruce run past me to the distraught form of Tim Drake. Oh God, I 
had forgotten all about Tim. 
 
"Tim. Please son, don't make this any harder than it is," Bruce 
whispered holding the boy in his arms.  
 
"Bruce, you can't! It's not true! Please don't believe him." Tim 
continued to cry out loud.  
 
*Bruce listen to him.* 
 
Tim broke away from Bruce's embrace and ran over to Doctor Thompkins. 
"Leslie, tell him he's wrong!" Tim begged. "Tell him he knows nothing 
of Dick Grayson. Tell him. Please..." I watched as she simply embraced 
Tim and let her tears flow with his. 
 
"I am sorry," Doctor Newman reiterated. " I am sorry." Bruce solemnly 
walked up to the doctor, extended his hand in thanks, and the doctor 
and his lawyer left. I watched as Alfred left the room with them to 
escort them to the door. I watched as Roy took Donna upstairs, and as 
Dad helped Leslie carry Tim to his room. Suddenly I realized I was 
alone with Bruce. I watched him as my world began to slowly unravel. 
I...I lost the only thing left I had to dream of. My hope was suddenly 
as nonexistent as my voice. And, looking at Bruce, I knew he was my 
mirror. 
 
** 
 
Bruce looked as though he had not slept in months. He stared out the 
den window with his head pressed lightly against the glass. He didn't 
even blink when the massive doors to the den opened. Alfred cleared his 
throat before announcing, "Forgive the interruption, Master Super? um 
Kent is here, sir." 
 
Bruce turned slightly to notice Clark Kent straightening his tie. 
"Thanks, Alfred," he acknowledged. 
 
Alfred nodded his head and excused himself. When the door closed, Bruce 
quietly seated himself at his desk, and motioning for Clark to take the 
seat across from him. As dark as Bruce usually was, it had been a long 
time since Clark had seen his comrade look so strung out. The last time 
involved the death of Jason Todd, the second Robin, at the hands of the 
Joker. Clark declined the seat and instead tossed a copy of the Daily 
Planet onto the desk. The headline was about Lex Luther, but beneath it 
was small column called The Rumor Mill. It had a selection highlighted 
that read: "Deadly rumor: Bludhaven's finest finds broken body of man 
who claimed to have killed the local vigilante known as Nightwing." 
 
"I didn't do it, if that's what you're thinking." Bruce left the paper 
on the desk. "And if you are referring to Nightwing, I am sure you know 
already he is not dead ...not yet... So what do you want, Clark." 
 
"I want to know why the hell I wasn't even told that he was hurt," 
Clark stated, trying to keep his voice level for his friend's benefit. 
 
" What should I have said, Clark? 'Come on over and we sit together and 
watch my son die.'?" Bruce mocked. "Clark, he is being kept alive by 
machines! CAN YOU CHANGE THAT?!" Bruce demanded. His voice rose 
uncontrollably as he demanded of his friend, "Would my telling you have 
changed that? He was brought home with a bullet hole that ripped 
through his body! Could you have changed that?? Or the fact that I had 
to do CPR on him the next day? COULD YOU? Can you change the fact that 
there are tubes running in and out of every orifice of his body because 
without the machines he can't even accomplish the basic bodily 
functions? So tell me .... WHAT WOULD YOU HAVE DONE?. WITH ALL OF YOUR 
MAGNIFICENT ALIEN POWERS, SUPERMAN, CAN YOU GIVE ME BACK MY SON? ...CAN 
YOU?!!"  
 
As his final exclamation, Bruce dumped the huge solid mahogany desk 
over as if it were made of paper, startling Clark and dismaying 
himself. He turned away and walked over to the fireplace that displayed 
the painting of his murdered parents over its mantle. "Sorry. Oh God, 
I'm sorry." Bruce whispered in a voice so low that it took Clark's 
super hearing to make it out. He watched as Bruce quickly exited the 
room onto the patio and, alarmed, Alfred entered though the main doors.  
 
"How long has he been like this, Alfred?" he questioned quietly while 
he righted the cumbersome desk with ease. 
 
Alfred busied himself with cleaning up the papers and knick-knacks from 
the ground. "It's been building since Master Dick was first brought 
home, sir." Alfred confided. "It peaked when Doctor Newman gave him his 
options this afternoon. At most, he may have had an hour sleep in the 
last three days. We almost lost Master Dick the last time he made any 
real effort to get some rest, and he has been fighting his need for 
sleep ever since. But I don't believe lack of sleep is what is 
bothering him. He has gone longer without sleep." Alfred lowered his 
voice to an almost scandalous tone, "We have been asked to consider 
euthanasia." Alfred knew that he didn't have to explain any more to 
Clark. Clark had known Bruce long enough to know that Bruce was blaming 
himself for Dick's condition, and struggling endlessly with the issue 
to end Dick's life.  
 
"Alfred, can you please leave us alone; I think I can handle this." 
Clark whispered. 
 
Alfred looked as though he might object but thought better of it. 
Unsure what the alien intended to do, but hopeful that Clark may be 
able to help, Alfred whispered, "Please be careful. There are a lot of 
fragile things in this room." He directed his gaze to the portrait 
above the fireplace, and Clark nodded in understanding. 
 
Reentering the room, Bruce seemed totally oblivious to the fact anyone 
was still present. Clark was physically only inches taller than Bruce, 
and sometimes Bruce seemed larger than life, but today the man seemed 
much smaller--weaker. Clark had to get him to release the fire burning 
inside, and the tantrum Bruce had just had was not going to do it. But 
not here. He knew that most of the breakable objects in the room were 
owned by Bruce's parents, and it would only make matters worse if those 
items were to get broken. 
 
Clarke stood behind him for what seemed like hours before Bruce broke 
the silence. "Roy was right." 
 
"About what?" Clark asked softly. 
 
"We only waste time." 
 
Clark suppressed a depressing sigh, and said instead, "Bruce, come with 
me. We have to ... discuss some things."  
 
"No, I have to stay here. I have to be here.' he breathed, almost too 
low for even Clark to hear.  
 
" Just outside, Bruce," he pleaded. 
 
"No, they may need me..." her returned still barely audible  
 
"For years I have stood back and watched silently while you bore the 
weight of the world on your shoulders, but not this time, my friend." 
He picked up the man and flew out the open balcony doors.  
 
** 
 
Clark took Bruce to an open field just behind a small wooded vale. 
Maybe Bruce was still stunned by the action, or maybe he was so far 
gone already that it took him a moment to figure out what happened, but 
whatever the reason, Bruce had not made one sound of objection for the 
whole flight. Instead he simply turned and began to walk back to the 
manor. But before he could take two steps, Clark was standing before 
him again.  
 
"Get out of my way, Clark," he growled low. Clark allowed his friend to 
push him aside and walk past. But Clark just stepped in front of him 
again. " I can't leave him," Bruce explained. 
 
"Its like you said, Bruce, what are you going to do? Sit there and 
watch your son die?" he rebutted. Bruce struck out before he could stop 
himself. His fist made contact with the other's jaw in a solid blow. 
Bruce knew the only reason he wasn't nursing a broken hand was because 
his friend had absorbed the punch. He turn again to try and walk away. 
"He needs me." 
 
"Dick isn't going anywhere, Bruce, and until you do something to get 
rid of that extra baggage, neither are you." 
 
"You can't keep me here."  
 
"Actually, I am probably the only one who could. You wanna test that 
theory?" 
 
"Don't tempt me." He pushed the man again. But unlike before, the man 
didn't budge. 
 
"If you wanna talk you can talk, if you wanna scream, scream. No one is 
gonna hear you--no one who wouldn't understand anyway." Clark continued 
as Bruce tried to walk away in the opposite direction. Suddenly he 
bumped in to the alien again before he could take his next step. 
 
"Aaauuuggghhhh," Bruce lost it. He swung, making contact with Clark's 
stomach, then followed through with a roundhouse kick to the head. 
Clark was actually taken down by the strength of the kick, for he was 
prepared to absorb the blow so that his friend would not hurt himself, 
but he hadn't been quite ready for the strength of that blow. Getting 
to his feet almost more quickly than he went down, Clark blocked blow 
after blow, kick after kick, actually amazed at how many times the man 
connected blows that should have been blocked. And really grateful it 
didn't hurt him as much as it would have the average run of the mill 
psychotic he had running around his town.  
 
Suddenly the blows were being joined by screaming. Then audible words. 
"ALL My fault!"{smack} " Shouldn't have even BEEN in that God-forsaken 
city."{whack} "He was just a child ...couldn't get away...to do it 
myself." {Crack} "Now every fiend... with a gun is after his 
head."{Slam} The last hit actually knocked Clark on his backside. "All 
those years ago, you were right. I should have never brought him in to 
this field." Clark saw Bruce's face streaked with tears, eyes swollen 
with the pain of fear, and even as his words were getting louder, his 
strength was quickly withering. Suddenly he fell to his knees wrapping 
his arms around his head and screamed. "It's my fault ... It's my 
Fault... IT'S ALL MY FAULT."  
 
In the middle of the field, a man he had never known to show emotion 
had finally released some of the pent-up anger that had burned through 
him as well as the undeserved blame that he carried for so long. The 
journalist knew he was as much to blame than anyone. Clark remembered 
that he had not approved of Dick becoming the "Boy Wonder." He had been 
just a child after all. In reality, Clark hadn't thought that any 
normal human should be out "saving the world," since they were often 
prone to illness and injury, but Batman had proven him wrong. In more 
than one instance. At times both Dick Grayson and Bruce Wayne had 
proven stronger than those heroes with extraordinary powers. 
 
"No, Bruce," Clark whispered as he sat on the ground next to the 
exhausted man who now lay trying to regain control of his emotions. "I 
was wrong. I know what I said, I even think that at the time, not 
knowing what I know now, my comments were hasty. I did some research on 
him. After the first time I had confronted you. I read the reports from 
the department of children and services. Who in their right mind could 
believe that a center for detention of juvenile delinquents could be a 
safe place for a child who was innocent of any crime? Let alone one who 
was the victim of such a heinous crime. Nothing about what happen to 
him made sense." 
 
"So you did do your research," Bruce broke in the tears finally 
subsiding, "I thought all those records had... disappeared shortly 
thereafter. Before he became Robin." 
 
"Hey, I'm a good reporter. Besides I work with one of the biggest 
snoops in all of North America. You should have seen what I had to do 
to keep her from doing a follow up on it after she found out that you 
had gotten custody. Bruce Wayne's rep and all." Clark glanced at Bruce 
and noticed that his friend seemed not to be listening as he stared 
passed him and through the trees in the distance. 
 
"I didn't understand why they felt that JDC was a better environment 
for a child than the circus. Then I remembered what my pa use to say, 
'If you city folk knew what to do with half the manure you made, you 
wouldn't have to wonder if the grass is really greener.'" Out of the 
corner of his eye, Clark thought he saw a thin whisper of a smile creep 
momentarily across Bruce's face. "Bruce, what he went through in the 
time since his parents death till the time you took him in was wrong. 
If he had survived the abuse he received in the center, he would have 
more than likely become bitter and angry. Or dead."  
 
"So how is that any different than he became under my watchful eye?" 
Bruce asked dryly. 
 
"You told me the reason you decided to train him." 
 
"Yeah, the boy was better than good. He had already caught up with his 
parents' killer and, untrained, confronted Zucco before I found him. He 
never seemed afraid of the outcome." 
 
"He wasn't." Clark continued with a confidential air, "He told me once 
that he had hoped that Zucco would kill him too." 
 
"He told you that?" 
 
" It was only Batman's intervention that saved the boy's life, Bruce. 
You taught him that it was ok to survive, and then you taught him how. 
It might not have been the only way, but looking back, I really can't 
think of any other way. He was ... no, is.. Everything that is a hero 
should be."  
 
After a quiet moment, Clark turned to find Bruce had fallen victim of 
his exhaustion. He had passed out, so that so deep was his sleep, he 
didn't even budge when the reporter lifted him and flew him back to his 
room in the manor. 
 
Clark watched for a moment as Bruce slept in his bed. The man sleeping 
before him had been a worthy opponent and a trusted ally. Like all of 
the members of the Justice League, he thought of Bruce Wayne and Dick 
Grayson as family. He may never admit it to the stubborn man, but he 
considered Bruce a brother. They are related by a goal. They may never 
agree on means, but what brothers ever do?

***

Bruce awoke, unfamiliar with his surroundings, or how he even got here, 
wherever here was. It had been a long time since he felt like he had no 
control over anything, and he hated the feeling. This couldn't be real. 
Maybe he had run into the Scarecrow's nerve gas unprepared, which is 
always good for a few unnerving hallucinations, not to mention a beauty 
of a headache in the morning. As Batman, he began to wander on what 
appeared to be the rooftops of Gotham, but somehow they were different. 
His points of reference were a huge inverted cone that looked to be the 
rooftop spire of the old Cathedral of St. Stephen, and one of his 
favorite perches, the giant gargoyle that overlooked Crime Ally.  
 
Everything seemed different. There was music in the air. It was soft 
loving, almost mesmerizing music. The closer he got to the spire, the 
clearer everything was becoming. When he finally reached cathedral he 
saw the source of music; sitting cross-legged on the gargoyle's head 
playing the guitar was Dick Grayson. His son. He felt tears begin to 
fill the area between the cowl's lenses and his eyes. 
 
"Hi, Bruce," Dick spoke, not even turning his head. "Somehow I knew I 
would run into Batman before this journey ended. I guess your cowl is 
like an American Express card; you don't leave home without it. Do you 
Bruce? Not even in your dreams." 
 
"Is that what this is? A dream?" Batman countered, "Am I dreaming?" 
 
"Man, one of us is... And in my dreaams you are usually Bruce." His son 
shrugged, still not turning. Bruce stood over him as the sound of 
Dick's guitar drowned the flutter of Bruce's cape. Bruce still eyed the 
area suspiciously. "So tell me, why the cowl? Is supposed to strike 
fear in me, Bruce? Or is it to hide you from what you fear." Dick 
stopped playing and turned his head to face his surrogate father. "Is 
that what the problem is? Are you afraid of me?" Bruce gazed 
unbelieving from the rooftop of the church. Only now he realized that 
he couldn't see the ground from where he was; that the ground was 
replaced by only a misty fog that seemed to hover below them. Dick 
patted the head of the concrete monster. "Sit down Bruce. Batman is not 
needed here." 
 
Bruce pulled off his cowl and lowered himself to the concrete, but his 
suspicions stayed ever visible. Almost instantaneously he changed from 
Batman to Bruce, complete with coat and tie. For a moment he froze in 
panic. "Boggling isn't it," Dick laughed, "Kind of makes me feel like 
Clark. I even flew threw the air without lines." Glancing back at the 
pressed and proper CEO of Wayne Enterprises, Dick shook his head. "Do 
you even own a novelty tee-shirt? I saw a real neat one at Darter's 
Discount. It said, "Where in the hell is Gotham City.' Had the 
Batsignal over the top of a silhouette of the city." 
 
Unfazed, Dick returned to playing the guitar until frustration got the 
best of Bruce and he slammed his hands across the strings. "I don't 
know what is going on here, but I want some answers, and I want them 
now." 
 
Dick knew this voice. The ability to intimidate flowed through his 
mentor's blood like fire through dry woodland.  
"This is limbo, Bruce," He replied. He wasn't sure how else to approach 
the situation except directly. "Seems when I used the technique, I 
created a conundrum that even the Riddler would appreciate. I gave 
myself some extra time, but I've run into a problem." His voice faded 
almost to a whisper, "I have been trying to get back... But now I am 
not sure..." 
 
"You're trying to tell me you are Dick Grayson's ghost, and this is 
heaven?" 
 
"No... well kind of... well more like spirit or soul," Dick explained, 
"And this is limbo; not heaven or hell." 
 
"If you're a spirit then why aren't you transparent?" Bruce quizzed. 
 
"Look, Bruce, I don't write these adventures; I just seem to live 
them!" This was starting to get more complicated than he had hoped and 
unfortunately, as always, the intimidation mask on Bruce was working 
all too well. All he could think was, <I gotta stay calm, I gotta say 
calm.> 
 
"Why am I here?" The man demanded, still unwilling to believe anything 
he was seeing, hearing, or feeling. 
 
"I'm not sure," Dick shouted back, suddenly forgetting to even care if 
he was calm. "Jason said that sometimes when we sleep our spirits cross 
into this realm ... Maybe you're here to see how the other half lives.. 
or dies."  

"Jason?" Bruce's voice echoed more shock than anger, making Dick regret 
his momentary lapse of control. 
 
"Yeah, he and others were helping me to get back," Dick said, accepting 
his slip of the tongue, "You'd be surprised what connections I have 
here." With a wave of his hand, he opened a portal onto a scene in some 
unknown dimension. It showed a beautiful woman in a large room, sitting 
at a beautiful grand piano, playing an old tune Bruce recognized as 
"Harbor Lights." A man stood behind her in a smoking jacket. He bent 
down and kissed her, and then returned to the large plush chair by the 
fireplace. The same chair that now sat in the Bruce's den. 
 
The vision didn't have the effect Dick had hoped for as Bruce leaped up 
in a fit of anger. "Enough! I have had enough of these games! I don't 
know were I am, or who you are, or what you think you can accomplish by 
this, but I don't appreciate these sorts of jokes," he growled. Back in 
the uniform of the Bat, he snatched the hallucination of Dick by the 
back of the shirt. The guitar fell from its hand, never hitting the 
ground, and its body went limp in his grasp. "Stand up! You're going to 
answer my questions even if I have to beat them out of you." 
 
"I cant! I cant stand! My legs don't work! " Dick shouted back, trying 
to grab hold of Bruce to keep from falling. Bruce stared down at the 
spirit's legs that dangled listlessly like that of a rag doll. 
 
"Bruce you're hurting me!" Dick winced. 
 
"What?" When the words finally penetrated his mind, Bruce quickly 
pulled his son into his arms, gently lowered him back to the ground, 
and stepped away as, still shaking, the boy slowly rolled over onto his 
side. 
 
"I can't feel my legs," he tried to explain, sounding as if he might be 
laughing, as tears began to stream down his face, and his finger tips 
dug into the concrete as if he were still trying to bury his emotions. 
"It's the truth. I wish it weren't. I have been trying to find my way 
back to the other side. Up until now I have been able to walk, change 
into Nightwing, and even fly without the use of any equipment. Then I 
all of the sudden I found myself unable to stand on my own legs. All I 
can figure is that my body is close, so I am beginning to experience 
its ...problems. The pain, the numbness.. " Back in civilian clothes, 
Bruce lowered himself to his son's side, and pulled Dick into his arms, 
enveloping Dick as the boy began to cry outright. "I thought I could 
handle it," the boy cried into Bruce's jacket sleeve. "Now I'm not so 
sure... Oh God, Bruce ...I am so scared. I don't think I can handle 
this. I don't think I can return to this." 
 
"Dick, son. I am so sorry, I don't understand what is happening," Bruce 
was unconsciously rocking the young man back and forth. "I can't seem 
to do anything right," he growled to himself. "Forgive me, son," Bruce 
cried, his body shaking beneath Dick. "Oh, God, forgive me." But before 
Dick could say anything, he found himself alone again and trying to 
fight back the tears that now discolored the sculpture's head.  

**  

Alfred had only come in to check on Bruce. Before Clark left, Alfred 
had reiterated the need for secrecy. Neither he nor Clark liked the 
fact that only a select few of Dick's friends and family knew about his 
precarious health, but both recognized the need for Bruce to handle the 
situation as he saw fit. Clark had grudgingly complied, and had 
predicted that Bruce would be asleep for hours. "There wasn't much 
fight left in him," Clark had said, referring to the 'conversation' he 
and Bruce had had earlier. 
 
Alfred found his young master thrashing and screaming in his sleep. Not 
since he was as child had Alfred seen him so emotionally torn apart. 
His sheets and pillows were already soaked in sweat and tears. He was 
so alarmed that he started to leave to get Leslie when Bruce awoke with 
a start.  

"Dick, please forgive me," he shouted out as he bolted upright in bed. 
"No! God, no! Please, I didn't mean to hurt you..." Bruce fell to the 
floor clawing at the carpet as if he were trying to dig something up. 
 
"Master Bruce! Bruce... son... please calm yourself." Alfred had no 
sooner knelt to the floor than the man whom he'd raised as if he were 
his own, pulled him into his clutch like a frightened child to a toy. 
 
"I didn't believe him. I thought it was an illusion ... Possibly the 
scarecrow." The visibly shaken man prattled on. Leslie ran in to the 
room at the sound of Bruce's cries and quickly shut the door behind 
her. She could not ever recall Bruce having lost his senses so 
completely. Despite all efforts from Alfred who was now struggling with 
his own tears, Bruce was becoming more and more despondent--almost 
unaware what was going on. "I didn't mean to hurt him," he begged. 
 
"You didn't, son," Alfred voiced, looking at Leslie with pleading eyes, 
"It was Blockbuster." But the words fell on deaf ears. 
 
Bruce continued, "It wasn't logical. It didn't make sense. Then when I 
saw mother... she was at the piano... Harbor Lights ... she was playing 
Harbor Lights... just like before." Bruce rattled on as Leslie prepared 
a syringe with a strong sedative. "Oh God, he's hurt and scared... and 
what did I do? I hurt him more, I yanked him up from the ground shaking 
him, but he wouldn't stand... his legs were like rubber." He cried, 
unaware as the needle pierced his skin. 
 
"He said I was hurting him, He couldn't feel his legs... I didn't mean 
too... I thought I was hallucinating. Oh God... Oh God... " 
 
The sedative worked quickly, and Bruce collapsed on top of the old 
butler. Leslie had to get Roy and Jim to help return the man back to 
his bed. Alfred turned to keep the others from seeing the tears of 
which he seemed to have lost control, and was grateful that, only after 
an uncertain pause, they left as quickly as they had come. As soon as 
the door closed, he looked up to see Leslie smiling--fighting the tears 
in her eyes. 
 
"I won't let him feel responsible for the death of another son... I 
can't." Alfred whispered to her. She embraced the older man, and 
together they shared the pain and tears they could never let anyone 
else see.

***

It took Alfred all night to get the courage up to finally go into the 
bedroom. They had moved Dick to his old room after taking him off the 
machines that were maintaining his life. But after almost thirteen 
hours he still lived. The monitors, the only machines left in the room, 
beeped and twittered his defiance of death. Alfred had finally 
convinced both Donna and Barbara to go downstairs, and Roy had eaten 
recently and returned, leaving Tim as the only one who hadn't left the 
young hero for hours. Alfred stood in the doorway for several minutes 
before he got the nerve to make his presence known.  
 
Clearing his throat he stepped forward, "Master Timothy, I think it 
would be best if you went downstairs and tried to eat something." Roy 
watched him somberly as he spoke. Roy noticed that Alfred's eyes never 
left Dick's face even as he spoke to Tim. It struck Roy that Alfred had 
not had any time alone with his surrogate grandson.  
 
"I'm not hungry," Tim objected.  
 
"Hey, kid, I think Alfie's right," Roy butted in, "And I want to check 
on Donna. Then we can change and kick some ass. It'll make both of us 
feel better." Roy gave Tim a look that prevented the young sidekick 
from objecting further. Roy addressed Alfred, "Alfie, will you stay 
with Dick for awhile? We just don't want him to be alone if..." his 
voice trailed off, unwilling to speak the end of his sentence, as he 
watched the older man step up to the bedside. Roy watched as Alfred 
slid his fingers gently beneath Dick's, and noticed Alfred's already 
damp eyes began to glass over.  
 
"I understand, Master Roy," Alfred answered solemnly. Roy saw Tim 
understand Roy's ulterior motive, and he seemed more willing to follow 
Roy to the kitchen. 
 
Roy gave a half smile as they watched the old man quietly take the seat 
that Roy had abandoned. Then turning to Tim, he signaled with his first 
two fingers for them to leave quietly, and they did so, closing the 
door behind them. Tim turned to Roy with new tears in his eyes. "I 
don't think I've ever seen him cry." 
 
"Yeah, kid me neither," Roy said solemnly. 
 
"I guess it really is over, isn't it," he whispered, staring back at 
the room they had just left.  
Unable to answer, Roy wrapped his arm around the young man's shoulders, 
and quietly guided the younger boy down the hall. 
 
** 
 
Dick was so tired. The pain came and went as did the numbness in his 
legs, but the faces--the memories--they stayed. He kept moving, 
although his heart was no longer in the fight. Now would be as good as 
any time to give up.  
 
Laughter began to echo through the darkness of this realm; a dark, 
evil, frightening laughter. That's when he saw him--Trigon. He towered 
over the city like a great mountain. His hands spread outward in 
victory. "I feel your faith dwindling you puny little human. This is 
the time for which I have had to wait for all too long. You thought you 
had defeated me. But it is I who will taste final victory. I should 
have killed you the first time you crossed over," he growled, "But she 
stopped me. Then you stole her from me again. You were foolish to 
believe you could teach her the ways of her mother. Because of you I 
had to punish her for that. And yet she has not learned. When I find 
you, human, I will see that your after life is not one you will soon 
enjoy." 
 
Dick slipped back into the darkness of the alley and desolately settled 
down into the corner. It was over. He was going to die just as he 
lived... alone. 
 
"You were never alone, Richard," came a voice out of the darkness. Fear 
seized his heart as he recognized the voice. But there was nowhere to 
run. No choice now. He would accept his fate.  

"Do you remember, Richard, that time when you were younger, and you 
became lost in this realm. You came to a crossroad where you found a 
little girl who was crying just at the edge of this realm. And you 
asked her why she cried." 
 
"I remember," he whispered. He fears were being replaced by memories he 
hadn't remembered until just now. "She said she wanted to go back and 
be with her mother, but she was afraid because she different. Said she 
was alone and would spend her eternity alone because she was the 
daughter of evil. If she left this world, others would be hurt." 
 
"That's correct. Do you remember what you said?" she asked.  
 
Given a renewed hope, Dick was no longer willing to accept the 
helplessness that came with fear, and he walked out into the light and 
faced the voice in the darkness. "Yes, Raven, I do." Raven stepped out 
of the shadows, and the image of her father's face eclipsed her own. 
She could sense the fear that dug at his heart, but he did not retreat. 
Instead he smiled. "I asked where your mother and father were. You said 
that your mother lived in a place of light and happiness, and that your 
father was darkness himself. I remember thinking you talked funny for 
someone so young. You said your father was the evil incarnate and that 
because of that you were to spend your life alone. Shunned by others." 
 
"You asked me if that is how I felt when I was in the place of light. 
It was then I remembered that I had only known happiness when I was 
there." Raven recalled, "But my father said that it was only false 
face, and that when they knew the truth they will turn on me, just as 
they did him." 
 
Dick acknowledged the memory, "I told you that some people are hurtful, 
but not everyone. It takes a lot to break the bonds of a dark legacy, 
but we don't have to be what others want us to be." 
 
"Then when I turned around and you saw my face you gasped, but I knew 
it was not out of horror or pity, but of shock. You stood your ground, 
and you even smiled at me. Then, when I told you I was the daughter of 
Trigon, you laughed and said... " 
 
"I remember I... " he began to laugh at the thought. "I said, 'So what? 
My father dresses in tights and thinks he's a bat.' I remember it well. 
You thought I mocked you. Somehow you knew my real parents were dead. I 
guess I pissed you off, because your fear and sadness turned to anger. 
You told me that your father would let you return to your mother and 
that all you had to do was push me over the edge into the void that was 
in front of us. It would have broken my connection to life and killed 
my mortal body." 
 
"You would have been lost to your biological parents as well as Bruce, 
who had come to love you as his own. Lost to wander a vast nothingness. 
I only thought to scare you and make you run away. But despite my harsh 
words you stayed. I was young and as afraid as I had hoped to make 
you."  
 
"Oh, I was afraid all right. I didn't want to die. But I had already 
accepted it as my fate. I asked you if that is what you wanted me to 
do. If you wanted me to die. You looked like you didn't realize that 
there was a choice, and you fell to your knees and cried. That's when I 
understood. I knew that you didn't want to hurt anyone--you just wanted 
to go home. And that maybe with my life, I could give you that."  
 
Raven tried to step closer, but Dick stepped back. "You smiled at me," 
she continued the story, "You touched my face, and told me to go home 
to my mother. And you stepped into the nothingness, no longer allowing 
the choice to be mine." 
 
"Well, I was lost, and didn't think I could have gotten back to my body 
anyway," he clarified, trying to downplay his action. "But I didn't 
die, Raven. You enveloped me within your soul self and returned me to 
my body. I didn't remember until now. Trigon grabbed us, and I heard 
you scream. It felt like I was being crushed with in you. I couldn't 
breath. Then I felt suddenly at peace, and I awoke to discover myself 
in Bruce's arms. By his expression, I don't know which one of us was 
more scared," he laughed. "I fell asleep, and for the first time, and 
maybe the last time, I had what was the most peaceful nights sleep I 
had ever experienced since my parents died." He turned away from his 
one-time teammate. "You saved my life and for that... I am grateful." 
The hard times that came afterward returned to him, and Dick asked, 
"But that was then, wasn't it?" He finally found the courage to turn 
around and step forward. "We are no longer strangers, Raven. Nor are we 
friends. So tell me, Daughter Of Trigon, are you here to kill me .. 
again? After all, neither of us are the innocents we were so long ago, 
are we? It should be easier now. You've had practice hurting people 
since then. Hurting me." 
 
Richard's words dug in to the emptiness of Raven's soul. She knew he 
referred to her dark side which had destroyed his life as Titan and 
vanquished any hopes of happiness he could have had with Kory. 
 
"I know I deserve your hatred, Richard," she returned, and he gave a 
hollow laugh. "I have no right to ask for your friendship or trust, but 
I have changed. I have been purged of the hatred that consumed me. I 
will not ask you to trust my word. But try to understand. I can not let 
you suffer the way that my father intends for you. If you wish, I can 
open the way to the other realm. Your body will die, but you do not 
have to live in the torment that he intends to make you suffer." 
 
"And if I still choose to live? If I want to go back? Then what?" he 
growled defiantly.  
 
"So, you do know you have a choice, and you do still intend to fight. 
So be it." She closed her eyes and released her soul self for just a 
moment. When it returned, Dick found himself facing his own image.  
 
"The way out of here is on the other side of Trigon. You must make 
peace with yourself and jump within the flames of forgetfulness, 
sacrificing all that you have witnessed here. Let it be known, Richard 
Grayson, that if you have made peace with yourself, you will awaken 
unharmed by the flames, and home within your own body. If not, you will 
die and your soul will wander forever. I will not ask you to trust me, 
Richard, but to trust your heart. And one day find room in it to 
forgive me. Trust your heart, Richard," she repeated, "For if you do, 
it will see you safely home." Then she left, but not before opening up 
another option. 
 
The fog lifted from the ground revealing a archway leading to another 
realm. As it became clearer, he saw his parents. They seemed so happy, 
and their love was so strong that he could feel it pulling at him. Deep 
inside he did want to go to join them, and he knew that someday he 
would, but not today. 
 
The numbness returned, and he collapsed to the ground. He knew his 
choice would be difficult, but he had forgotten how difficult. Fear and 
loneliness started to enveloped him, and almost instinctively, he waved 
his hand outward. The movement opened another window. A window to the 
present. He saw James Gordon, sitting alone in the large chair in the 
den. He saw that Jim held a picture that had been taken at Dick's high 
school graduation. In the picture's background he saw the commissioner. 
He had never noticed him in that picture before, which in the back of 
his mind he thought was odd. Jim had been there with Barbara more than 
likely. But he had been there. He had always been there.  
 
He waved his hand again. It was Bruce's room. Dick saw Bruce as he lay 
in bed tossing. Doctor Leslie sat on the bed next to him, wiping his 
head with a damp cloth. 
 
"It's ok, son," she said, tears flowing unchecked from her eyes. She 
hushed him as she slowly moved her loving hand across his unshaven 
face. "I don't know how, but we will survive this too. Together, we 
will survive." Afraid, Dick swiped his hand across the window. It took 
him to the kitchen. 
 
Tim was slinging his dinner plate across the room. "NO! He isn't gone 
YET! Stop talking like that!" Barbara tried to grab him, but he broke 
free and jumped across the table. Roy, who for some reason had black 
hair, was able to catch him.  
 
'Don't you dare assume we want to accept this," Roy stated, fighting 
the struggling boy. "He's been my best friend ever since I can 
remember, but you heard it just as well as we did. He's gone." 
 
"NO. No.. no... Dick ....forgive me I failed you," the boy cried as 
melted to the ground. Roy held him, sitting with him. No one's tears 
were in check anymore as Donna fell to the ground beside him. "Kid," 
Roy cried, "Don't you know you were his brother? You never failed him. 
If anything, you gave him back some of what he lost when... the Titans 
let him leave. You gave him back his heart." 
 
Dick wiped the tear from his face as he watched the scene. "Believe 
him, little brother," he smiled, trying to hide his tears, although 
from whom he didn't know. "You never let me down." With a wave of his 
hand the scene changed. 
 
Barbara found her way to the music room, still biting back the tears. 
She slipped up next to the piano, able to do so because the bench was 
tucked underneath, and ran her fingers across it. Her father must have 
seen her enter the room, because he followed. 
 
"Honey, you can't keep it bottled up," he whispered, "You were friends 
too long." 
 
"Oh, Daddy," she cried still fighting the tears, "We were much more 
than friends. He loved me, Daddy, he taught me to fly. In so many ways, 
he taught me to fly." She moved just enough so that her father could 
pull the piano bench out and sit next to her. "Even after this," she 
laughed slapping her dead legs, still fighting off the tears. "He loved 
me. He made me whole. And I didn't need to walk because with him I 
could fly..." She suddenly slammed her fingers on the keyboard and 
cried out, "And I would have none of it! I didn't need anyone! There 
are no handles on this wheelchair because I don't like to be pushed. I 
wasn't going to be dependent on anyone. Not you, not him not anyone. It 
was just me and this damn chair, and we would be fine." The last words 
finally broke the dam of tears, and she fell in to her father's arms. 
"He loved me, and I kept pushing him away. I loved him, Daddy. I truly 
did, but I was afraid... Now he's gone. Daddy, I love him. Don't let 
him leave me, Daddy, please." He held her as she cried, wishing like 
hell that he had the power to right her world.  
 
Unable to watch any longer, Dick waved his hand, but when the image 
changed, he found himself looking down at himself. Alfred sat by his 
bedside. Dick watched as he pushed aside the wisp of hair that always 
seem to fall out of place.  
 
"I thought I could come in here," Alfred said solemnly, "And say good-
bye. But it seems I can't. It was like you brought the sun with you the 
day you first walked through those doors. If I let you go, I fear you 
might take the sun with you." He sat silently for a moment, listening 
to the whistles and beeps of the monitors which were the only signs 
that there was even a spark of life left in his surrogate grandson. 
 
"It was very hard to maintain decorum when you entered our lives. It is 
not proper for a gentleman's gentleman to laugh even if the joke was 
funny. I still don't know how it happened. One minute I was just a 
butler, the next a father figure, and the next a grandfather. When I 
agreed to become Master Bruce's legal guardian, I had not expected him 
to become the son I had always desired. He was quite persuasive for his 
age and very intelligent. He convinced the state to allow me to have 
guardianship. One minute I was his butler, and the next, I was his 
guardian. Don't let him fool you, son, he was not always the saint he 
likes to think he was, and many a time I had to discipline him for his 
misdeeds. But somehow I guess he knew it was only because I cared. But 
despite my efforts, I couldn't find a way to make him happy, or even at 
ease. He buried himself in work almost immediately, never letting down 
that ever-so-present guard.  
 
"Then, that fateful night when he came back to the house from the 
circus, you were all he could talk about. But I could tell that it was 
himself that he was seeing. It had been the first night in a very long 
time that he had let me see him cry. That night Commissioner Gordon 
told him that you had been taken from the circus and placed in the 
Juvenile Detention Center. I guess was the turning point in all our 
lives. He became outraged. He set forth the legal wheels to attain 
guardianship of you. Little did he know that the same red tape used to 
protect him from the government would be used to keep you from his 
reach. But then came news of the beating you had taken, and of your 
eventual escape. He became a man possessed. As Batman, he found you and 
took you back, but not before making certain of your safety within the 
walls and making a promise to you that you would not have to stay there 
much longer. Between Mr. Fox and Master Bruce, they found the loophole 
he needed to bring you home.  
 
"I suppose he thought that having a home would be enough. Silly as it 
sounds now, I thought so too. I should have known better. I watched you 
watch him. Every night when you went to bed you would pray asking God 
to watch over your parents and Mr Wayne and Alfie. Ugghh." The older 
man made a face at his unsolicited nickname. "Then you would finally 
fall asleep only to be awoken by the memory of your tragic loss. That 
night I found you outside doing exercises, and back flips, and all 
those glorious acrobatics at two thirty in the morning, I realized what 
was happening. Then it became more apparent when you stopped saying 
your prayers and would just pretend to sleep until I left. You would 
sneak out the window, go into the woods, and cry. And come morning, you 
would be practically be asleep in your pancakes, but you continued to 
smile, never letting on the hurt that was in you. Lest we not forget 
the night Doctor Leslie and I found you swinging from the chandelier. I 
do believe that was the night you and Bruce finally found it within you 
to trust each other. It was not long after that Robin flew beside the 
Batman." Alfred straightened the covers the lay across his young 
master. 
 
"You were his pride you know. For months everything you did was the 
topic of his conversations, whether it was a triple back flip in the 
Batcave or the grades you received on your report card. He looked 
forward to every moment he was with you. Why he couldn't tell you that 
I will never truly understand. I suppose it was because he was afraid 
to admit he cared because everyone he had ever cared for left him." 
Suddenly, with those words, he could not hold back the tears--he could 
no longer suppress the heartache. "And... now I ... see he may be 
right." 
 
"No, Alfred, not everyone he ever loved has left him; you're still 
there." Dick spoke up, although he knew his words were not getting to 
the ears of his old friend. He became frustrated when he realized his 
body was not on life-support. He knew they were going to let him go.  
 
"Way to go Grayson," Dick whispered as he waved his hand one more time, 
closing off the window. "You have been so blinded by self pity. For 
someone who thought he was all alone in that world, you sure seem to be 
destroying a lot of lives by dying," he paused. For a moment the pain 
in his gut and the numbness in his legs pushed their way to the 
forefront of his thoughts until he realized what was happening. He 
commanded himself, "No! No more feeling sorry for yourself! This is 
your last chance to go back and make things right. Don't give up now." 
He dragged himself out of the alley. Trigon was stomping all over the 
city, shattering in building after building. Dick could hear the lost 
souls as they ran from the angry demon, and he fought off the memories 
that had long haunted him.  
 
The walls seem to echo the screams of the tormented as they wandered 
aimlessly in this world of chaos. That's when he heard what sounded 
like himself crying out, but it was not him. It was Raven. She had 
taken his place to allow him the chance of life. A chance that was 
quickly fading. The chance he wanted more than anything, but not at the 
risk of another's soul.  
 
"If she can take my form in this place what is stopping me from taking 
hers. He scrambled deep within himself and released his spirit, no 
longer chained by the darkness he had carried within himself. He felt 
himself fly and, with a emancipation of self unlike anything he had 
ever experienced, he defied Trigon, once more enveloping the raven as 
she had once for done him. He lifted her from her father's grasp and 
dove for the eternal flames.

***

Bruce felt less rested when he awoke than when he fell asleep. He 
wasn't sure how long he had been in bed or even how he got there, nor 
did he care. He had only one thing on his mind and that was to find out 
if his worst nightmare had come true.  He stood on unsteady legs--in 
fact his whole body felt like a rubber band. He tried to take a step, 
and the attempt landed him on his hands and knees. His world spun in a 
totally new direction.  Leslie heard the racket and burst threw the 
doors, nearly taking his head off. Luckily the world took that moment 
to change directions again, and he slumped over on his side, away from 
the solid wood entry.

"Bruce Wayne, what in heaven's name are you doing up? The sedative I 
gave you would have kept an elephant unconscious for an hour or so 
more."

"Sedative? That would explain a few things," he moaned, "Leslie, Dick, 
is he …"

"No, he's still hanging on." She shook her head unbelievably. "Almost 
twenty-four hours after we took him off the machine, and he's still 
here.  Anyone else in his condition would have died within an hour."

Bruce turned away from her, dazed as if he could see through the walls. 

"Tim was right.  I shouldn't have taken the doctor's word for it."

"Bruce, Stop it! Stop punishing yourself." She hated this part of the 
man she had come to know as a son.  "Doctor Newman is the best in his 
field. If he thought there was even a chance to save him he would have 
tried it. I know this is not easy to hear, dear, no more than it is to 
say, but I think , it is time for you to let him go."  She could tell 
by his hard expression that he wasn't ready to hear that. 

He tried to stand once more, only to find himself on his hands and 
knees on the floor.

"Damn!  What the hell did you give me," he growled. She tried to help 
him up only to find him giving her that glare--the one she was sure 
stopped the criminal element because it sure scared the hell out of 
her.  But unlike the cowards in the street she wasn't going to let him 
make her run. Instead she stood in defiant of his gaze and answered.

"What did I give you? Let's see, I gave you love, understanding and a 
chance. But despite everything I did, I was unable to change what you 
are. Sound familiar?" she chastised him, "I gave you everything in my 
power I had to give… just like you did a little boy who was abandoned 
by the fates to a cruel world. Can you honestly say you regret what you 
did?  I can't." 

In this emotional frame of mind she wasn't sure she knew what his 
answer would be, so she didn't give him a chance to give one.  "No one 
asked you to interfere with the outcome of that child's life. Seems to 
me the biggest surprise that came from that whole circus disaster was 
that you, Bruce Wayne, showed an interest in the orphaned kid at all. 
It could have very easily ended when the Dark Knight left the room. 
Instead you knocked down a good portion of your personality camouflage 
to gain custody of a little boy you knew nothing about. 

"As far as this Robin/Nightwing thing, I talked to Mr. Haly one day 
after you decided to try and get custody of him. Did you know he was 
walking a high wire without a net at four?  He was suppose to asleep in 
the trailer and everyone was involved in the raising of the tents.  Mr. 
Haly said that one of the circus elephants went nuts, and they thought 
they were going to have to shoot it when it came to a dead stop at the 
practice grounds.  She plucked him off the ten-foot practice wire. He 
told me Dick's dad didn't know whether to hug him or hit him, and with 
Elinore the Elephant around, the latter would not have been a good 
idea." She paused, "The point of this is that whether or not you 
became involved in his life, he would still be doing things that are 
dangerous. Even you told me of when he escaped JDC and you found him 
looking for the man who killed his parents."

"And found them," Bruce whispered.

"I couldn't prevent the Batman any more than you could have prevented 
Dick's other persona, but what you did was teach him what he needed to 
know to stay on the side of good. Can you imagine what you would be up 
against if he had chosen the other road?" She knew she had his 
attention, and whether or not he believed what she was saying, at least 
he was listening.

"I would give anything to have had the power to change things that have 
happened in your life--to keep you from harm. For God's sake, Bruce, I 
am a doctor; making things better is what I am suppose to do…" She 
started to sob, "Obviously it wasn't enough. I was not your mother, but 
you were the closet thing I have to a son, and I've failed you.  Every 
time you came in with an injury, I prayed to God that it would stop, 
that the violence and hate and everything you go out and face everyday 
would stop. But it didn't. And because it didn't, you had to go on. And 
because you had to go on, so did I.. And so did Dick."

"But what do I do when he's gone?" Bruce asked.

"You hurt, you hate, you try to hide, and you cry, then you go on. One 
day you will find that all those memories you were hiding from are 
still there, and you'll go on. Then, totally by accident, you'll 
yourself laughing because some crazy incident makes you remember one of 
Dick's horrible jokes. Or you'll happen to see a group of children 
playing on the monkey bars in the park, and you'll wonder if they ever 
thought of doing a quadruple flip. You'll spot one of the old faded 
circus signs on a light pole in the bad side of town, and you'll 
remember a little blue-eyed boy whom you love and miss, and the 
feelings of dread will finally give way to the memories of the happier 
times. Maybe it doesn't make sense at the moment, but in spite of 
everything you feel right now, life will go on. And because you love 
him and he loved you, he will never really be gone, Bruce. No more than 
your mother and father have gone from your heart." 

She gently touched his chest, and the gentle thumping of his heart 
turned in to the trembling of his body as he finally broke down and 
cried. His tears were not long lasting, but she knew it wasn't because 
he stopped hurting, but because he had pushed the hurt deeper inside 
him. He would find a place and time to grieve, but he would not let it 
be now. 

She helped him up when he finally felt strong enough to stand. He had 
barely gotten to his feet when the whole house filled with what might 
have been the most unholy sound Bruce had ever heard. He was struggling 
to regain his balance by propping himself against the walls as the 
strange echoes were drowned out by another unusual sound--Alfred 
yelling at the top of his lungs. 

Bruce wasn't sure whether it was the medication or the shock of 
everything that was going on, but his legs locked, never in his whole 
life did could he recall hearing Alfred scream or even speak loudly. 
Nothing over a quiet voice. 

Then when he came out of Dick's bedroom calling for Leslie to 'come 
quick,' Bruce was really scared.  Alfred grabbed her; dragging her back 
to the room muttering a lot of words that didn't make sense to Bruce.  
Something about hell rising, and a dark shadow, and something being 
thrown out of bed.

Maybe it was the fear, or maybe it was the drugs, but the hallway 
seemed to be getting longer. The more he worked to get there, the 
further away it seem to become. Finally he did reach the room right 
after Leslie and, stunned, he stood in the doorway.  Dick was on the 
ground, his teeth grimaced in pain. Leslie hollered for her medical bag 
and Alfred ran by Bruce as if he weren't even there. 

"Dick is alive," Bruce whispered unbelievably.  He closed his eyes, 
afraid to opened them again for fear that he was dreaming.  If it was a 
dream, he didn't want to wake. 

"Bruce?" Leslie called out frantically, "Bruce!  Help me!" 

It wasn't a dream. When he opened his eyes. Dick was writhing in pain 
on the floor, while Leslie was struggling to hold him still. He wasn't 
sure how he got from the door to where they were in the room, for the 
next thing he remembered was having Dick in his arms staring up at him 
in pain and confusion, and Alfred handing a filled syringe to Leslie. 
"What's wrong, with him?" he heard himself say as he felt his son's 
body relax in his arms. 

"I'll be honest, I don't know. Dick can you hear me?" she asked gently
"H..urts..." was the only answer he could give.

"I know it does, honey, let the medication start to work." she replied 
softly, setting his hand to the side of his face.

"What did you give him? A muscle relaxer?" Bruce whispered as felt the 
muscles of his son  contract and relax individually under his own 
strong arms. 

"No, oh no, his heart is too weak right now. It's a pain killer, and a 
very weak one at that."  

"Hurts.." The boy winced, and his body seemed to convulse only for a 
moment. Then Dick completely relaxed, going limp in Bruce's arms, but 
after a glance to his son's expression, Bruce noted that Dick was still 
conscious. 

"We need to get him to the bed." She ordered as Bruce lifted him with 
ease. As he did so, Bruce sent Alfred to put in an emergency call to 
Dr. Newman and to send the Wayne helicopter to get him.  He turned his 
attention back to Leslie as she said,  "And I want to keep him awake 
for as long as possible." 

"Les…?" Dick's words were drawn out and weak, but they were the most 
beautiful sounds she had ever heard. 

"Honey, I need you to conserve your strength. But try to stay awake, 
ok?"  she added.  She was called away by the phone that Alfred handed 
her.

"Wha.. hap.. en..?"

Through the commotion, no one had noticed Dick's two friends that stood 
in the doorway. Donna could no longer hold in her joy, and quite 
literally flew to Dick's bedside with Barbara in her arm. "Praise Hera, 
it's true."

Donna lay Barbara next to Dick, and Barbara took his hand, asking 
softly, "Dick, can you hear me, hon?"

"Babs..?_Donna..?" Dick managed.  Both women's faces were flush and wet 
with tears. They had been in the garden just outside the den when 
Alfred hurried in to announce that Dick had awoken before he went to 
make the calls he was asked to make.  As Donna had headed for the door, 
Barbara had asked her to take her upstairs with her. It had been the 
first time she had asked for help in a long while, and after being 
rewarded with Dick's deep blue eyes which she never though she'd see 
again, she didn't care.

"Don't you ever give us a scare like that again, short pants" she 
growled in her best Batgirl imitation. Confused, he looked at her and 
tried to lift his hand her face, but wasn't strong enough.  Barbara 
gently took his hand within hers and carefully wiped away her tears 
with it. 

"Ok?" She asked him with a soft smile. 

Before he answered, his arm began to twitch in a short burst of 
convulsions pulling it from her gentle grasp.

"So_rry" he gritted.  Both Donna and Barbara looked up at Bruce hoping 
for some explanations. This time he didn't have one. 

Alfred, who had come in with the oxygen machine and the monitors from 
the medical room, began to set them up. "Doctor Leslie should be 
returning any moment with some answers, and she requested that I get 
this equipment set up, so perhaps you three should go to the den.  I 
have left tea and cakes for you, and I might suggest that it is  a good 
time for someone to call Master Timothy and Mr. Harper and tell them 
the good news." 

The echoes of hollers and whoops could be heard throughout the den 
where Barbara had set up a laptop computer with a connection to the 
cave's computer. She had video network links open to both Roy and Tim, 
and, looking over Babs' shoulder, Donna could see each in his own 
window. Donna didn't know who was yelling louder--Tim or Roy. Both 
Donna and Barbara, who was again in her wheelchair, couldn't help but 
laugh.

"We're on our way home, wonder chicks, and we love you! Whaaaaa 
hoooo!!" Roy announced jovially. 

"Roy. There is something else." Both men heard the caution in Donna's 
voice, and the whooping came to an abrupt halt.
 
"What's wrong? His legs or something?  We'll help him with that…" Roy 
started.

"No," she interrupted, "At least we don't know anything right now on 
that.  The doctors are on their way back here now." She paused, "I 
meant there was something Alfred said he saw just before Dick woke up," 
she hesitated, "He said the room grew dark, and a great shadow shaped 
like a great black bird emerged out of Dick.  He said it was majestic, 
as if it was spreading its dark wings for the first time..." She 
trailed off, knowing that was enough for her friend to catch on.

"RAVEN!" Roy exclaimed. Barbara noticed the concerned expression that 
spread across Tim's face, and she knew he was thinking the same thing 
she was.  They both knew that the Titans' former teammate had some 
pretty serious entanglements with the Titans, the least of which was to 
disrupt Dick's wedding to Kory, although Barbara admitted to herself 
that she didn't think that was such a bad thing.

"Yeah, that's what I thought too."  Donna said matter-of-factly. 

"Alfred said it vanished out the balcony almost as quickly as it 
appeared. He said he wasn't really paying much attention because Dick 
started seizing and was thrown from the bed because of it." 

"But I thought she couldn't return without a body?" Roy questioned. "Do 
you think she found another body? Are we sure she hasn't taken up house 
in Dick?" He knew that wouldn't go over well. 

"ROY!" Donna exclaimed, shocked.  "She brought him back! She wouldn't 
hurt him again. She's changed. I think she went to find another body. I 
want to go find her." Everyone who was listening heard the definitive 
tone in Donna's voice.  She sealed the announcement with, "I'm leaving 
right away."

"That's cool. Just don't over do it," Roy cautioned. "If she has 
changed for the better, she may come looking for us. But she may have 
just stuck around long enough to bring him back." 

"I don't think so. I don't know why, but I think she may be back to 
stay." Donna said.

"Just be careful, Wonder Chick." He whispered as softly as he could 
through the connection. "I've enough stress for a while."

 "Me too," Donna returned.

***

Jason stared into a window of Wayne Manor. He missed that place and its 
keeper, ol'stick-in-the mud Alfie. He spent many an hour watching over 
that old coot. He missed the geezer almost as much as he missed the 
snickerdoodles that were fresh out of the oven when he had come home 
from school after Bruce adopted him. Now he was busy making a small 
banquet for Dick's homecoming. Dick had been flown to Switzerland for 
surgery to clear away some of the scar tissue near his spine that was 
causing a great deal of pain.  Jason wondered if it occurred to Dick or 
Bruce how close Alfie had come to worrying himself into an early grave-
-again. 

"Spying on Bruce again?" asked Joey from behind, who had often caught 
Jason watching his family through the portals of time and space.

"Hi Joey.  Naw, I was just peeking in on Dick.." Jay smiled. "He really 
got lucky this time, didn't he?"

"What do you mean?" The curly-haired Titan inquired.

"His tether was broken. Granted I led him to believe he could still get 
back, but it got real close.  Heck, even the doctors said he was a 
goner." The young specter recalled,  "I lost count of how many times he 
had almost given up."

"I'll give you that it was close," Joey agreed, "But there is something 
you have to know about a tether. Maybe if you had known this before you 
died you would have never died." 

"HUH?" Jason looked wide-eyed at his friend.

"Sometimes the tether that holds your spirit to your body is made 
stronger by those whom you love and who love you in return." Joey 
explained.

"And I didn't have anyone to love me." The one-time Robin sighed.
"See there is one of the places where you screwed up. It's not that no 
one loved you; it's just that when they tried to give you what you 
needed, you were no longer willing to let them in." the blond spirit 
explained.

"So, if you're so smart how come you're here?" the younger boy barked, 
hurt by the reality of Joe's words. "You had all kinds of people who 
cared, even after you tried to kill 'em."

Joey smiled, trying to hide the tears forming in his eyes at the 
memories of Dick, his father, mother and all the other who were hurt by 
his passing. "Sometimes, it's just your time." 

Joey let Jason stew on his words only a moment before he decided that 
now was as good a time as any to change the subject. 

"So how's he doing?" The former Titan asked, curiously referring back 
to the window.

"Dick? He's doing great. Look." When he looked into the window, he saw 
Joey's former teammate slipping through a beautiful strength routine on 
the parallel bars that would make Mitch Gaylord jealous. Swinging his 
legs as hard as possible he swept up thru the bars for a wonderful full 
twist and layout. Baby stuff is what Dick always called it. But this 
was his third attempt, and, as before, as soon as his feet hit the 
floor, his knees buckled and he collapsed onto the mat. 

"Oops," Jason winced. "That makes him three for three."

The duo watched as Barbara joined the young Grayson on the mat.  

"Richard John Grayson, What do you think your doing!" she scolded, 
pretending she had not been watching him in awe for the last 10 minutes 
in the shadows. "I thought the doctors said no stress on your back or 
legs for another month, minimum. She joined him on the mat using her 
strong arms to pull the rest of her body to his side.

"Yea, yea, yea." He mumbled, as he reluctantly put back on the braces 
he was to use until his legs and back got stronger. 

"They also said I was dead. So don't believe everything you hear." He 
had no memory of anything that happened from the day of the incident to 
the time he awoke with Bruce holding him while his body when through 
very painful spasms. He had described the painful sensation as a body 
wide "charley horse." Although most of the pain had gone, he still had 
periodic uncontrollable twitching in his limbs. They didn't happen as 
often as they had, but once in a while one would sneak up on him.  

Admittedly, that void in his mind made him angry, but the frustrations 
of not even being able to hold a cup to drink or stand up on his own 
really pissed him off. Still, as Alfred was so prone to saying "this 
too shall pass." It was only the support of his surrogate family that 
kept him sane. 

"I don't think that's funny Boy Wonder," she griped. "You had Tim 
scared out of his wits. Bruce so worried that he went without sleep 
until he collapsed on the lawn. Donna has cried enough tears to flood 
all of Paradise Island, and Roy thinks he has had an allergic reaction 
to the hair dye he used while playing Nightwing."

Dick tried desperately not to laugh at Roy's plight, but it soon 
bubbled out and, despite her will to remain straight faced, Barbara 
joined him.  Suddenly Dick caught Barbara's face in his hands, and 
planted a full-fledged kiss on her. A third voice came echoing out into 
the caves.

"Holy lip lock, Nightwing." Tim awed.

"Just once," Dick growled out loud, addressing Barbara,  "I would like 
to kiss you without interruptions." Then turning his full attention to 
Tim who looked winded and a bit worried, he continued,  "This had 
better be good short stuff, or I am going to teach you to fly with out 
the use of lines or nets. I thought you were supposed to be keeping an 
eye on Lian for me." Dick grumbled finding it hard to keep a serious 
face as Barbara giggled beneath him. 

Tim swallowed momentarily forgetting why he had come down. 

"Tim?" Dick asked, starting to get concerned.

"Actually she was out with Bruce and Alfie all morning," Tim confessed.  

Dick glared at him suspiciously.  "Honest, they just got back about a 
half hour ago. That's what I have been trying to tell you. You gotta 
see this." The teen wonder declared as he watched the lovebirds sit up. 

"You gotta come upstairs you won't believe what's happening."

Dick rolled up onto his shoulders and then into a handstand, slowly 
lowering his braced legs to the mat. While normally he would have done 
such a move for fun and perhaps to show off, now with the braces, it 
was actually easier to stand like that.  "Is everything ok?" 

"Lets just say it's not that what is happening is wrong, it's just not 
normal." 

"Describe normal," Dick rebutted slowly bending to lift Barbara. 
"No, Dick," she objected, "You're not suppose to be lifting."

"It's not like you weigh anything," Dick rebutted.

"I'll get her. If you guys don't stop arguing and get upstairs you'll 
miss it. And I will never get anyone to believe this happened."

He snatched Barbara up and dropped her in her chair practically 
dragging her to the elevator, and Dick had to make an effort to keep 
up. As they stepped out of the elevator into a secret room, they heard 
it; music.  The beautiful sound of the grand piano was coming out of 
the ballroom. 

There seemed to be a roadblock in the doorway, as Garth, Donna, and the 
once again redheaded Roy Harper stood there with their mouths gaping 
open. As Barbara rolled up, Garth and Donna moved out of the way, but 
Roy still stood motionless in total shock.  Sitting before them 
masterfully playing the piano was Bruce, and on his lap was Roy's 
little girl Lian. She was turning the sheet music for him as he played 
a wonderful rendition of Harbor Lights. 

Dick noticed Alfred and Doc Leslie sitting together on the love seat.
"When did he learn to play the piano?" Dick whispered.

"Don't ask me..  he is your father… I think." Roy replied.  
As the melody ended, the room filled with an eerie silence. Then Dick 
began to clap as one-by-one the others did the same. Lian whispered 
something in Bruce's ear. He responded by smiling, and then, being very 
much the gentleman, he lifted her from the bench and put her on the 
ground.  Then, stepping from behind the large instrument and taking her 
hand in his, they both bowed, and he spun the happy little girl to the 
opposite side, and they bowed again. That's when Dick finally noticed 
what Bruce was wearing. Both he and Lian were in blue jeans!  Granted 
they were the most expensive money could buy, but they were still blue 
jeans.  Dick had seen Matches Malone in jeans, but never Bruce. Never 
Bruce. Talk about out of character. Then if that wasn't strange enough, 
they had matching black T-shirts. And not just any black T-shirt, but a 
novelty shirt Dick remembered seeing in a discount store. 

Roy was knocked out of his stupor when his beautiful little girl jumped 
into his arms. "Daddy, Daddy, see our new shirts? Mr. Wayne had 'em 
made at da store. See it has the Bbat-signal on it." She held out her 
shirt so Roy could see.

Roy stared in total disbelief, and then, catching himself, gave Lian a 
hug smile and a hug to match. He lowered her to the ground as he said, 

"Had em made, did he?"

"Actually just hers," Bruce clarified. "Alfred reminded me that hers 
would not be appropriate for little girls to wear." Not having noticed 
a difference before, Roy looked again at Bruce's shirt which said, 
'Where the hell is Gotham?' and then to his daughter's which had been 
edited to ask, 'Where the heaven is Gotham?'  In response, he laughed 
appreciatively.

Alfred excused himself to retreat to the kitchen to the last steps of 
the planned welcome-back dinner for Dick. "Since your friends are 
already beginning to arrive," he noted. "Feel free to enjoy the scones 
and tea, I will bring out some other hors d'oeuvre in just a moment."
Dick looked at Bruce, then back at Alfred and Leslie, and then the rest 
of his friends who had gathered at Wayne Manor at the request of a man 
whom Dick had never seen like this before. Did anyone else notice the 
change here?  The jeans, the shirt, the music… the unnecessary party 
made up of Dick's closest friends. And that smile that was across his 
face as he wrestled with Lian on the floor of the mansion.  Not a fake 
smile. Not just his half smile, but a real honest-to-goodness ear-to-
ear grin. He was. ...Happy.

What does this mean?  

Maybe this was the sign of change for Bruce Wayne. Maybe he was going 
through his mid-life crisis, or perhaps coming out of one. Maybe Dick 
had died and actually made to heaven, or maybe this whole thing was a 
dream made up by some fan fiction writer on the Internet. He didn't 
know, and he didn't care.  What ever it was, he liked it, and if it 
made Bruce happy, then it made him happy too.