Yes Virginia, There Is A Light
By Vicki Napier (VNapier@aol.com)

***

Bruce cringed in disgust as he poured the rest of the coffee down the drain. He 
chuckled as he thought how amazing it was that a man that could trackdown and 
bring to justice the most notorious criminal minds Gotham had to offer couldn't 
manage to make a decent pot of coffee. He just hoped that pouring it down the 
drain didn't do major damage to the plumbing. Then he opted for a glass of 
orange juice instead. It was much safer.

A low moan from across the room sent a concerned look streaking across his face 
and he hurried to the source. Taking a seat on the bed next to Dick, he gently 
brushed the hair from his eyes and continued to lightly stroke his hair as he 
murmured, "It's OK, son. Just rest now."

Dick quieted down and Bruce remained seated for a moment. So much had seemed to 
happen in such a short time span that he himself was still trying to adjust.

Dick had sent word to Gotham that he needed to see him. Actually, he had said 
that he had to see him. Immediately, if at all possible. With the chaos Gotham 
was in and the difficulty of travel, what with the river being mined, the 
bridges gone, and the heavily armed boarder patrol, Bruce knew that something 
had to be seriously wrong for Dick to make such a request. There was unlimited 
work to be done in Gotham, and Bruce's head told him that a trip to Bludhaven 
just wasn't feasible, but a small flicker from long smoldering embers in his 
heart told him he had to go to his son.

Upon his arrival, Bruce could tell that Dick was totally distraught. Anyone who 
didn't know him might not suspect how very close to the edge Dick was, but Bruce 
knew him better than even Dick thought possible. He gave thanks that for once he 
had listened to his heart instead of his head. Dick was on the verge of breaking 
down and was barely able to maintain composure long enough to
tell him what was wrong.

Dick told him of the night a few months ago when he and Helena had been working 
a case together and had succumbed to their mutual loneliness. And that now that 
one moment of weakness had led to an impossibly complex situation. 

Helena was pregnant.

Nothing, except abstinence of course, is 100% effective and the odds hadbitten 
them in the butt. Even though Dick was a basket case, Bruce knew hehadn't been 
called to step in and "solve" the problem. Dick had called him because he needed 
someone ... he needed his father, for support only.

Dick would never try to dodge his responsibility to Helena and their unborn 
child. That wasn't Dick. No, Dick never dodged any of his responsibilities and 
all too often held himself responsible for things that were beyond his realm of 
control. Bruce looked down at his son sleeping beside him, grinned slightly and 
shook his head. In fact, just a few hours ago, Dick could have convinced himself 
he was personally responsible for everything from the  Clinton/Lewinsky scandal 
to the crisis in Kosova.

No, Dick always held himself responsible.

***

Bruce and Alfred stood just outside the door listening for the sounds that would 
tell them that the inevitable scene was about to be replayed, as it had been for 
every night for almost two weeks, every night since nine-year old, orphaned, 
Dick Grayson had come to live in Wayne Manor. But this time they were prepared. 

As the cries reached his ears, Bruce opened the door and hurried to the bed, 
Alfred following slowly behind. Dick had already kicked off his covers, and was 
wreathing in dreamed agony. Bruce bent down and gently took Dick in his arms and 
carried him to the big chair next to the fireplace on the other side of the 
room. This is the way it had happened for the past ten nights. Dick had been 
getting very little sleep and was on the verge of total exhaustion, but the 
dream kept returning, and sleep remained elusive.

Dick's small body was engulfed by the large arms of the man that held him tight. 
"Easy, Dick. It's just a dream." Bruce whispered as he gentlyrocked the little 
boy in his arms. Dick screamed as he awoke and clutched at Bruce's robe, 
snuggling against him so hard, if it were possible, he would have wormed his way 
right into his chest cavity. Tears streamed down his checks, tears of pain and 
agony as Dick once again relived that terrible moment that shattered his world.

"Why didn't I make them listen to me?" Dick's weak little voice asked, so full 
of guilt and remorse that it stung Bruce to the very depths of his being. "Why 
didn't I do something to make them listen? Why? Why? I should have been able 
too, " he sobbed. "I knew something was wrong and I should have made them listen 
to me!" 

As his tiny body heaved under the heavy sobs, Bruce tried to comfort him. 
"Ssssshhhh, Sssssssshhhhh," he whispered, cradling and rocking the child that 
had taken such an incredibly strong hold of his heartstrings in such an 
impossibly short period of time.

Bruce's arms and the sleeve of Dick's pajama top were in the way, so Alfred 
gently pulled at the elastic waist band of his pajama bottoms, bringing them 
down just enough to reveal part of a tiny buttock. Plunging the hypodermic 
needle into the fleshy tissue, Alfred injected the sedative the would bring 
desperately needed sleep to the tormented child.

Dick jumped, but Bruce had a tight hold of him. "Easy, Dick. It's just something 
that will help you sleep. Dr. Leslie sent it over. You remember her, don't you?" 
Bruce said in a low, soothing voice.

Dick nodded, his head still pressed tightly against Bruce's chest. "She was 
nice. I liked her a lot." Sleepily he added, "Can I sleep here?" He looked up at 
Bruce, his trusting blue eyes glazed with exhaustion and brimming with tears. 
"Please don't leave me."

"No, Dick. I won't ever leave you." Bruce pulled him close in a tight embrace. 
"I won't ever let anything hurt you again."

***

But he had. He had not only let Dick get hurt, he had himself inflicted the 
painful wound.

He had failed and Dick had almost been killed. When the Joker's bullet ripped 
through Dick's shoulder, Bruce felt as if it had hit him in the gut as well. He 
had watched helplessly as Dick plunged over the side of the building. 
Fortunately, Dick had become entangled in his jumpline and it had saved him from 
falling to his death. 

But something inside Bruce had snapped. He knew couldn't loose Dick. He thought 
he had broken the promise he made all those years ago and now he had to stop it 
from happening again. He had rationalized that if Dick wasn't Robin than he 
could keep him from getting hurt. That he could keep his promise.

He hadn't realized that his action would hurt Dick more than any gunshot or 
punch ever could. He hadn't realized that his decision to take Robin away from 
Dick would break the very promise it was intended to keep.

He hadn't realized his mistake until Dick was gone. Again he had rationalized 
that even though Dick wasn't with him, that he was safe and that was what 
mattered.

But the pain, the emptiness, the loneliness Dick's departure had created served 
as the foundation for the wall that was erected to protect Bruce from any 
further emotional pain. He had succeeded in building a wall that kept his 
feelings closely guarded and locked tightly away. They were still there,but 
behind the wall he could ignore them more easily, and hide them from others as 
well. He could protect himself the way he hadn't been able to protect Dick.

That wall had been a barrier between him and his son for years. Dick had seen, 
had felt the emotions that were now walled away, and it hurt and frustrated him 
that Bruce would no longer share them with him. Since Dick's return into his 
life, it had felt like they were in a dark tunnel, talking and working together, 
but no longer seeing each other. He was able to ignore the hurt of the darkness, 
as he kept it trapped behind the wall, but Dick couldn't. Dick wanted more than 
anything for the relationship they had before. But he was ... he was too scared 
to allow those feelings out again. He was too scared too feel that kind of hurt 
again. And again he broke his promise.

But something had changed. Earlier, as Dick poured out his soul to him, he once 
again saw that little boy, haunted by undauntingly stubborn dreams, and he had 
instinctively reached out to hold him. In that instant, as he held his son's 
quivering body tightly to him, the wall dissolved. In that instant, the mouth of 
the tunnel appeared and together they stepped into the light.