On Wings of Steel, chapter 4 - The Midnight Hour
Title: On Wings of Steel
Fandom: Batman
Chapter: 4/?
Author: SiriuslyLupin
Rating: PG
Warnings: angst, mild language, parenthood/children, violence
Summary: Before he was Robin, he was Dick Grayson, youthful ward of millionaire Bruce Wayne. Little does Dick know, however, that Bruce is leading a double life, one that repeatedly leaves Dick feeling left out. Sick and tired of being let down by the man he's coming to see as a father, Dick is determined to find out what his guardian is up to. Meanwhile, Batman is caught up in a game of wits with the Riddler, one that results in Dick becoming even more wrapped up in his guardian's secret life than Bruce ever wanted him to. [Prequel to the 1966 Batman television series.]
Word count: 21,864 and counting
When we last visited Wayne Manor, Bruce had just departed, following what he hoped to be a clue as to the Riddler’s location. Dick was left to share his newfound knowledge of Bruce’s secret identity with Alfred and to imagine where Bruce’s adventures were taking him. Is Batman okay? How will this turn of events ultimately affect our beloved duo?
Stay tuned! The answers are soon to come!
On Wings of Steel
Chapter 4 - The Midnight Hour
Dick couldn’t sleep at all that night. Bruce still hadn’t come home since he left again before dinner, and Dick was nearly sick with worry. Dick supposed that this was exactly what Bruce had been trying to prevent when he decided to keep his secret identity hidden. A part of Dick wondered how Alfred dealt with it all.
Dick then wondered if Alfred was still awake. Now that Dick knew about Bruce’s double life too, perhaps he could talk to Alfred about it.
Pushing his blankets aside, Dick sat up in bed. He glanced to his bedside clock to see that it was still fairly early - only going on midnight. Surely the butler might still be up, finishing up a few things or maybe even worrying about Bruce himself.
Getting up, Dick fished his bathrobe from the chair next to his bed and haphazardly pulled it on. Not bothering to turn the light on, he stumbled around in the dark, searching the floor with his feet. Finally, they met the soft plush of his slippers, and he plunged his feet into them.
He ran his hand through his hair and went to his door, pulling it open. He stuck his head out into the hall, and for just a moment, he was reminded of his afternoon search of Bruce’s study. Had that only been earlier that very day? It now seemed like a lifetime ago. So very much had happened since then, and he never imagined he’d be here - waiting up at night for Bruce to safely return from his duties as Batman.
Dick didn’t hear any other noises in the rest of the house, so he decided to check Alfred’s bedroom first. Closing his door behind him, Dick crossed the long hall to the servants’ quarters. Bruce had tried more than once to have Alfred moved to a different bedroom, one that didn’t carry the connotation of “servants’ quarters”, but Alfred always refused. Alfred insisted that he had been using the same room since the day he had come to work for the Waynes, and he felt at home there.
Bruce never seemed happy with Alfred’s answer, but always let the subject drop for a while before he brought it up again. Dick wondered how long this battle of wills had been going on between his guardian and butler before he’d even arrived at Wayne manor.
Continuing on down hall and rounding the corner, Dick came to the corridor that led to Alfred’s bedroom. The door in question stood slightly ajar with a narrow pillar of golden lamplight spilling out onto the crimson-and-cream-colored hall carpet. Dick quietly approached it and softly pushed open Alfred’s bedroom door further.
“Master Dick,” Alfred exclaimed immediately, sounding startled. “What are you doing up?”
The butler was sitting on the edge of his bed, flipping through a large leather-bound tome that was laying open in his lap. He, too, was in his bathrobe, ready to retire after a long, surprising, and overall strange day. For everyone.
“I couldn’t sleep,” Dick said, coming into the bedroom and closing the door behind him. He wouldn’t want Aunt Harriet to accidentally overhear their conversation, even though Dick was fairly certain she was sound asleep by this time.
“I’m worried about Bruce,” Dick confided, taking a seat next to Alfred on the bed.
Alfred nodded, closing the book on his lap. “As Master Bruce was afraid you would be,” Alfred told him, setting his book down on his bedside table. “Which was exactly one of the reasons why he didn’t want you to know.” He turned at look down at Dick over the top of his glasses.
Dick fidgeted a bit under Alfred’s slightly disapproving tone. Sighing, Dick admitted, “I thought the truth would be better, but…I never imagined that what he was doing would be so dangerous. Not that I wanted to be lied to, and I’m glad he doesn’t have to anymore, but…it’s late.”
“I know,” Alfred said, placing a comforting hand on Dick’s shoulder.
“How do you handle it?” Dick asked, looking up at the person that he had come to see as a surrogate grandfather. Alfred was ever the voice of reason, and Dick was sure that if anyone could make him feel better about things, it was him. Not that Dick had a lot of other options anyway, being one of only three people that knew the truth.
Alfred took a deep breath before he let it out slowly. “This has made up the majority of our relationship - he’s been Batman since he was not much older than you. I’ve…gotten used to it, I suppose.”
“How can you get used to the boy you raised going out and risking his life like this?” Dick asked. He was vaguely aware of how accusing his tone was, which he hung his head for. “I’m sorry, Alfred. I just…” Dick broke off, not sure of what more he could even say at this point.
“It’s worrisome,” Alfred agreed, nodding. “It is. I’m not going to pretend that it isn’t. I just…try and not to think about it so much.” When Dick glanced at him quickly, Alfred clarified, “And I’m aware of how bad that sounded. But I’ve found that if I dwell too much on what Master Bruce is getting up to, on what danger he might be in, it will drive me crazy. I have to let him do it, because…it’s what he does. It’s what he’s done for a long time. What he wanted to do since he was very small. It became his dream, more or less, after what happened to his parents, to try and make sure that things like didn’t happen to anyone else.”
“Can’t blame him for that,” Dick said quietly, staring blankly at the small patch of moonlight streaming in through the window and landing on the carpet.
“Like I said,” Alfred went on carefully, “I try not to dwell on the specifics too much. You can’t. You simply can’t function in your daily life if you do, because it will soon grow to consume you. It quickly becomes overwhelming. It’s not good for your emotional state.”
Dick nodded, knowing Alfred was right. “But how do you do that? How do you keep it from consuming you? I try so hard to think about other things, but my mind inevitably goes back to Bruce and what he might be going through.”
“By keeping busy,” Alfred suggested.
“That’s why you’re so diligent in your work!”
“That’s not all of it,” Alfred disagreed, “but it is a large part of it, yes.” He shook his head. “If I didn’t have my work, I’d probably be sitting in the corner, rocking back and forth with the graveness of it all.”
Dick raised an eyebrow at him. “So you’re saying I should do more homework, hm?”
“That wasn’t my intention,” Alfred said around a smirk. “I was simply answering your question. But in your case, yes - that would involve throwing yourself into your schoolwork and homework a bit more.”
“Great,” Dick mumbled. “That sure sounds like a ball all right - being up at midnight, doing my homework.”
“You asked,” Alfred replied smugly.
“I just wish he would check in more,” Dick mused. “He’s been gone for six hours.”
“Sometimes the circumstances don’t allow for it,” Alfred reminded him, “and even then, he doesn’t like to call at this hour. He worries about disturbing you and Mrs. Cooper with the noise, even with the Batphone all the way down in the study.”
“I’m disturbed as it is,” Dick said. He put his hands behind him, using them to prop himself up on the mattress and gently leaning back on them. “Even if I did keep busy for most of the day, it’s lying in bed at night with nothing else to do that’s getting to me. My mind keeps going to Bruce and what kind of trouble he might be in.”
“If you don’t mind my saying,” Alfred replied, “I think that’s the wrong way to look at it, Master Dick.”
Looking up at the wise old man before him, Dick asked, “What do you mean?”
“Master Bruce has been doing this for a long time,” Alfred reminded him. “For a lot longer than you’ve even known him, to be sure. He’s careful and safety is his first priority. He doesn’t take unnecessary risks, and he doesn’t put himself in danger needlessly. He’s skilled, which has taken years of training and practice. He’s smart and calculating, and knows what to do and when to do it. In short, he’s good at what he does.”
“Gee, I don’t doubt that, Alfred,” Dick said. “Bruce is amazing. I know that. I’ve known that for as long as I’ve known him. It’s the criminal element that I’m not so sure about.”
“Indeed,” Alfred said grimly, nodding. “All we can really do, Master Dick, is trust that Master Bruce is taking care of himself like I’ve always known him to do. Like we’ve always known him to do.” When Dick gave him a questioning look, Alfred explained, “You’ve been living here long enough now to know how careful he is. Have you ever known him to come home bloodied and bruised? Have you ever known him to be in pain or distress of any kind?”
“No,” Dick replied, “but he has done a good job at hiding this entire thing from me. He could have been hiding other things too.”
“Rest assured,” Alfred told him, “that Master Bruce has never been seriously injured in any way.” After a moment of silence, he added, “And you know I wouldn’t tell you that unless it were absolutely true.”
“I know you wouldn’t, Alfred,” Dick acknowledged. “And I know he’s careful. I just still worry. I think about what happened to my parents, and my mind goes off on these tangents, coming up with all sorts of awful scenarios. I can’t help it.”
Just then, the door to Alfred’s room squeaked open, and the only person on the face of the earth that could assuage Dick’s fears stuck his head in.
“Bruce,” Dick gasped out. He leapt up off the bed and sprinted across the floor, nearly throwing himself into his guardian’s arms.
Bruce’s blue eyes darted up to Alfred in concern before he wrapped his strong and calming arms around Dick.
“I just looked in your room to check on you and you weren’t there,” Bruce explained. “I was a bit worried. You shouldn’t be up so late.”
“I was worried about you,” Dick said, pulling away from Bruce and looking up into his guardian’s eyes. “How can you expect me to sleep when you’re out there doing goodness knows what?”
A small smile passed over Bruce’s lips. “Now you see why I didn’t want you to know?” Bruce asked quietly. “This is exactly what I was trying to prevent.”
“I told him as much, sir,” Alfred commented.
“I know,” Dick sighed, “but I do know now, and I am going to worry. Not much we can do about that now, is there?” Placing his hands on his hips, Dick stared up at his guardian, giving him a meaningful glance.
They had already discussed this, and Bruce knew Dick was going to be worried about him. It was only because Dick cared about him and loved him, and Bruce couldn’t exactly be upset about that.
“No,” Bruce admitted. Placing a calming hand on Dick’s shoulder, he said, “And I’m fine, Dick.” He paused for a moment and looked up at Alfred. “I hardly even laid eyes on the Riddler, much less put myself in any sort of danger whatsoever.”
“What happened?” Dick asked, that excitement ebbing at his voice once again. “Where were you all night if you didn’t run into him? Didn’t you check out the steelworks?”
“I did,” Bruce said, pacing across the room to the window, “and it was still abandoned.” When he turned back to face Alfred and Dick again, he continued, “All I found was another riddle. I followed it to another location, where I found yet another riddle. And another. And another. You get the idea. This went on for quite some time until I realized that the Riddler was simply leading me on a wild goose chase.”
“But why?” Dick asked, furrowing his brow. He had taken a seat on the bed next to Alfred again, leaning intensely towards Bruce. It was like he was waiting on baited breath to find out more.
“That,” Bruce said, “is the $64,000 question. “One that I don’t have an answer for. Well, he’s clearly trying to distract me. That much is obvious, but…he takes enjoyment out of giving me real clues and seeing how quickly I can catch up to him. He must be trying to bide his time while he’s planning something big, but…what?”
“What was the last clue you received, sir?” Alfred asked. “They may have been leading you on a wild goose chase, but he’s going to have to give you a legitimate clue sooner or later, isn’t he? He can’t help himself.”
“No, he can’t, Alfred.” Bruce withdrew a small scrap of paper from his pocket and explained, “I found this one at the last location I went to - the Gotham City docks.” Bruce unfolded the slip of paper and read, “’Riddle me this, Batman: He who makes it has no need for it. He who buys it has no use for it. He who uses it can neither see nor feel it. What is it?’”
“Holy deadpan,” Dick muttered, his face morphing into a grimace. “The answer’s a coffin.”
“Correct,” Bruce agreed, pressing the fingers of one hand to his chin, “but what could he mean by it?”
“That he’s planning on killing you?” Dick asked as if it were the most obvious answer in the world.
”The Riddler’s wanted to kill me since the day he came to our fair metropolis. He wouldn’t write a riddle to tell me that much,” Bruce said, giving the small piece of paper a shake. “Not something I’m already painfully aware of. That would be a waste of his talents.”
“He wouldn’t be planning on holding up a funeral home or something, would he?” Dick asked, sounding sick to his stomach.
“Perhaps the grieving loved ones of a rich socialite such as yourself?” Alfred suggested.
“I wouldn’t put it past him,” Bruce said. “Not even that is beneath him, but no, I don’t think so. Kidnapping someone like Bruce Wayne and demanding ransom for his safe return would be much more lucrative. And predictable if he’s looking for a specific amount of money.” Staring down at the piece of paper in his hands, he shook his head. “No. The clue is obviously trying to tell me something else, but…I can’t quite grasp it.”
Bruce inhaled a heavy breath and let it out loudly, sounding frustrated. “Short of running around willy-nilly to all the places that have coffins - funeral homes, mortuaries, cemeteries - I didn’t know where else to go. So I decided to come home and sleep on it.”
Dick smiled up at Bruce, although there was something amiss about his expression. “Well, I am glad you’re home now, Bruce. Maybe now I can get some sleep.” Dick paused before he added, “As long as you’re not planning on running out again sometime in the middle of the night.”
“No worries, old chum,” Bruce reassured him. “I’ve had enough fun running around Gotham City for one night. I’m exhausted. And I imagine the Ridder’s off somewhere, laughing his head off about it all.” Shaking his head, Bruce added, “I need a break. And until I figure out what this clue could mean, or until the Riddler gives me something else more concrete to go on, I’m at a bit of a dead end anyway.”
“Things often do look brighter in the morning, sir,” Alfred suggested.
“Right you are, Alfred,” Bruce said, trying his best to sound cheery, but failing miserably. He gave a half-hearted smile, one that didn’t even come close to reaching his eyes, and made his way towards the door. When he put his hand on the doorknob, he turned back and asked, “Are you coming, Dick?”
Dick only nodded. His voice was caught somewhere in his throat, and he found that he simply couldn’t manage any words at that moment. It was just…too much.
Bruce nodded once at his butler before he pulled the door open. “Goodnight, Alfred.”
“Goodnight,” Dick added, following Bruce from the room.
As soon as they were out in the hall, Dick opened his mouth to speak, but Bruce silenced him with a finger to his lips. Bruce then used his finger to beckon Dick forward, leading him all the way back down the hall to the opposite wing. Neither of them spoke, not until they reached Dick’s room and were safely inside.
“What, Bruce?”
Bruce didn’t answer him right away, but spent nearly a minute pacing around Dick’s room, his fingers to his lips in quiet concentration. When he finally dared to speak, his tone was firm. “I wanted to make sure that you were, in fact, all right with all of this and that you weren’t going to do anything…reckless.”
“Reckless?” Dick asked, sounding shocked. “Like what? You don’t think I’m about to go after the Riddler myself?”
Bruce opened his mouth to respond, but then he thought better of his reply and shut his mouth.
“Bruce,” Dick said seriously, “I’d hardly know what to do if I did go after him.”
Bruce watched him closely, his eyes still squinted in thought. “You have martial arts training.”
“Are you trying to encourage me?”
“Of course not,” Bruce insisted. “Not at all.” Taking a few more steps across the room, Bruce glanced out of the window momentarily, staring up at the large and silvery moon in the sky. “I would never do such a thing. The last thing I would want is for you to put yourself in danger. I just can see why you might get such a foolish idea, and why you might try to act on it. I suppose it’s making me slightly uncomfortable that you seem so…interested and excited about what the Riddler might be planning.”
Bruce watched Dick closely for any sign that he may be right, and the fact that Dick wasn’t saying anything to prove him wrong didn’t help matters.
Bruce quickly went on, “I know you. I know the way you think.” Shoving his hands in pockets, Bruce then said, “I suppose that was another one of the reasons why I didn’t want you to know. Because you have this enormous sense of right and wrong, and it seems like something you might try to get involved in.”
“Bruce,” Dick said slowly and carefully, “nothing like that has even crossed my mind. I’m just…good at riddles and the fact that I might be able to help with them makes me feel important.”
Not daring to reply, Bruce just watched him, paying close attention to his young ward’s body language in particular. After nearly a minute had passed, Bruce said, “I thought we had agreed to lay all of our cards on the table.” His tone was unwavering and nearly bordering on scolding.
“Bruce…” Dick tried, but his guardian cut him off.
“Don’t lie to me.”
Dick appeared slightly shocked at the way his guardian suddenly seemed intent on getting him to admit every single thought that had crossed his mind in the last ten hours. Dick really abhorred when he earned that tone of voice from Bruce. Hanging his head, Dick stared down at the floor intently.
Taking a step towards him, Bruce raised a hand, but then lowered it again. “I’m sorry, Dick,” he said around a frustrated breath. “I didn’t intend for this conversation to be this uncomfortable. It’s just that I care and worry about you as much as you do about me. That feeling is very, very mutual. And just like you wouldn’t want me to needlessly endanger myself, I wouldn’t want you to do that either. Especially considering that you are my ward, and I’m supposed to look out for your best interests. It wouldn’t do if I led you, a minor, into such a dangerous path at such a young age.”
Dick didn’t say anything for a long time. He sat down on the edge of his bed in silence, staring down at his hands in his lap. “You wouldn’t be leading me into anything, Bruce. If I did do something like that, it would be of my own free will. Not because you tempted me into it or anything.”
“So you have thought about it,” Bruce observed.
“Momentarily,” Dick sighed. “When we were first going over that steelworks riddle, and again just now in Alfred’s room…” Dick broke off, glancing up at Bruce sheepishly. “That doesn’t mean I was going to do it. I just thought about it.”
“Momentarily,” Bruce repeated.
“Yes,” Dick insisted, and he really didn’t like where this conversation was going or the tones of voice that he and Bruce were taking with each other. Did it really have to be this tense and uncomfortable when they were only discussing their mutual concern for one another?
“Look,” Dick said flatly, “would there really be anything so bad about me trying to help you? That’s what I would just be doing - trying to help you. This world would be a much better place if our fellow man tried to do so a lot more. Isn’t that what you’ve always taught me?”
Bruce opened his mouth and then stopped. He looked vaguely like a fish with his lips parted in a silent expression somewhere between surprise and satisfaction. When he finally gathered his thoughts, he said, “All right. No, it wouldn’t be so bad for you to try and help me. I didn’t say that. Nor would I ever. And you have been helping me. I would still be mulling over that steelworks riddle if not for you. That much is fine and I appreciate it. Don’t think I don’t. But that’s where your involvement in this ends. I won’t tolerate you getting some high-toned idea that you’re going to join me in my crusade and become my partner. It’s not going to happen.”
“Fine,” Dick said, trying his best to sound like he didn’t care one way or the other what Bruce was telling him. “But you know, Bruce, thinking and doing are two entirely different things. You should know that by now.”
Bruce approached Dick’s bed, carefully and purposefully taking his steps. “I do know that, and I also know that you’re prone to coming up with slightly foolish ideas and not being able to let them go, even when you know you should.”
Dick clenched his hands tightly into fists. “You keep using that word - foolish. Was it so foolish when you decided to don the Batman cape for the first time when you weren’t much older than I am now?”
“You’ve been talking to Alfred, I see.”
“Of course I’ve been talking to Alfred!” Dick snapped. He didn’t know what had come over him, but he suddenly stood up, bounding so close to Bruce that he could feel the other man’s breath on his face. “What else am I supposed to do with you gone all night? I’ve been worried sick about you, and you don’t seem to care one bit!”
Bruce was taken aback, not only with the fact that Dick was yelling at him, but also with Dick’s words themselves. Bruce sucked in a breath, stepping backwards to try and calm the situation.
When Bruce spoke again, his voice was much quieter and softer. “I do care,” he replied adamantly. “I appreciate your concern, and I’m sorry you’ve been up all night with worry. That was one of the reasons why I didn’t want you to know about this at all if you’ll recall.”
“Oh, I recall,” Dick said quietly. “You would have rather continued to lie to me about it all. Believe me, Bruce, that’s not an easy thing to forget.”
“You’re putting words in my mouth,” Bruce protested, but he sounded tired. Dick could understand that, because he was too.
However, it wasn’t until then that Dick realized just how exhausted he really was, and how much he hated arguing with Bruce. They really hadn’t exchanged heated words like this before, and doing so had made a very uncomfortable feeling settle in the pit of his stomach. It was almost like a brick had made its home there, but not quite; it was a much emptier feeling than that. Still, it felt heavy, which didn’t quite make sense to him. How could something feel heavy and empty at the same time?
Dick almost wanted to crawl into bed then and there and forget this awful turn of events that the night had taken. As Alfred had told Bruce not so very long ago, things always looked better in the morning. Perhaps if they slept this argument off, the both of them would wake feeling much less hot-headed about a lot of things. Maybe then they could talk this thing through calmly like they usually did.
What was it about tonight that was making things so difficult? That was making them so cross with each other? Dick supposed it was just a mixture of everything that had happened so far today, a combination of everything they had felt so far. Dick tried to remind himself that in addition to being exhausted himself, Bruce was probably feeling frustrated with the way the investigation itself was going.
Dick had gone through a lot of emotional turmoil today, from finding out Bruce’s secret to being plunged into a world that was completely foreign to him. He simply didn’t know how to handle this - the worry over Bruce’s well-being and how to help his guardian with everything that he constantly dealt with. At least, he didn’t know how to handle it the way Alfred did. Not yet, anyway. Not to mention, Dick was up far past his bedtime, which didn’t help matters any. Perhaps they both needed some time to cool off.
“Look,” Dick sighed, “maybe we should just continue this in the morning. We’re tired and we’re irritable and…”
“You know I don’t like to leave things like this,” Bruce interrupted.
“It wouldn’t be the first time,” Dick muttered, remembering all the times Bruce had left in the middle of something to tend to the beckoning Batphone.
“Dick…” Bruce tried, but his voice trailed off. He seemed like he simply didn’t know what to say anymore, and neither did Dick for that matter.
“I just want to go to sleep,” Dick muttered. Haphazardly pulling off his bathrobe and throwing it somewhere in the vicinity of his chair, he laid down in bed and pulled the covers tightly around himself. He turned over, his back to Bruce, hoping that that would get the message across that this conversation was over.
Bruce didn’t leave right away. He waited awkwardly, perhaps trying to think of something to say, or simply just waiting for Dick to change his mind. After nearly a minute, Dick heard his guardian leave the room, pulling the door closed behind him with a snap.
Dick didn’t know why, but almost immediately, he felt tears springing up in his eyes. He squeezed his eyes shut, desperately trying to stave them off and wishing for sleep to claim him, but it didn’t help. The tears escaped his eyelids, dripping down his nose and cheeks to pool on his pillow.
Seemingly out of nowhere, the Riddler’s coffin clue popped up in his mind again, which only served to make Dick cry harder. As much as Bruce had tried to brush it off, it made Dick terrified for his guardian.
In reality, it held much more significance than either of them could have imagined.
What could the Riddler have in store for our beloved heroes?
Will they be able to overcome this recent turn of events in their relationship?
Or will they destroy themselves just as surely as the Riddler is trying to do?
For the answers to these and other horrifying questions,
Tune in next time…
Same fan site…
Same fan channel.
Until then, hold onto your seats, Batfans!
Fandom: Batman
Chapter: 4/?
Author: SiriuslyLupin
Rating: PG
Warnings: angst, mild language, parenthood/children, violence
Summary: Before he was Robin, he was Dick Grayson, youthful ward of millionaire Bruce Wayne. Little does Dick know, however, that Bruce is leading a double life, one that repeatedly leaves Dick feeling left out. Sick and tired of being let down by the man he's coming to see as a father, Dick is determined to find out what his guardian is up to. Meanwhile, Batman is caught up in a game of wits with the Riddler, one that results in Dick becoming even more wrapped up in his guardian's secret life than Bruce ever wanted him to. [Prequel to the 1966 Batman television series.]
Word count: 21,864 and counting
When we last visited Wayne Manor, Bruce had just departed, following what he hoped to be a clue as to the Riddler’s location. Dick was left to share his newfound knowledge of Bruce’s secret identity with Alfred and to imagine where Bruce’s adventures were taking him. Is Batman okay? How will this turn of events ultimately affect our beloved duo?
Stay tuned! The answers are soon to come!
On Wings of Steel
Chapter 4 - The Midnight Hour
Dick couldn’t sleep at all that night. Bruce still hadn’t come home since he left again before dinner, and Dick was nearly sick with worry. Dick supposed that this was exactly what Bruce had been trying to prevent when he decided to keep his secret identity hidden. A part of Dick wondered how Alfred dealt with it all.
Dick then wondered if Alfred was still awake. Now that Dick knew about Bruce’s double life too, perhaps he could talk to Alfred about it.
Pushing his blankets aside, Dick sat up in bed. He glanced to his bedside clock to see that it was still fairly early - only going on midnight. Surely the butler might still be up, finishing up a few things or maybe even worrying about Bruce himself.
Getting up, Dick fished his bathrobe from the chair next to his bed and haphazardly pulled it on. Not bothering to turn the light on, he stumbled around in the dark, searching the floor with his feet. Finally, they met the soft plush of his slippers, and he plunged his feet into them.
He ran his hand through his hair and went to his door, pulling it open. He stuck his head out into the hall, and for just a moment, he was reminded of his afternoon search of Bruce’s study. Had that only been earlier that very day? It now seemed like a lifetime ago. So very much had happened since then, and he never imagined he’d be here - waiting up at night for Bruce to safely return from his duties as Batman.
Dick didn’t hear any other noises in the rest of the house, so he decided to check Alfred’s bedroom first. Closing his door behind him, Dick crossed the long hall to the servants’ quarters. Bruce had tried more than once to have Alfred moved to a different bedroom, one that didn’t carry the connotation of “servants’ quarters”, but Alfred always refused. Alfred insisted that he had been using the same room since the day he had come to work for the Waynes, and he felt at home there.
Bruce never seemed happy with Alfred’s answer, but always let the subject drop for a while before he brought it up again. Dick wondered how long this battle of wills had been going on between his guardian and butler before he’d even arrived at Wayne manor.
Continuing on down hall and rounding the corner, Dick came to the corridor that led to Alfred’s bedroom. The door in question stood slightly ajar with a narrow pillar of golden lamplight spilling out onto the crimson-and-cream-colored hall carpet. Dick quietly approached it and softly pushed open Alfred’s bedroom door further.
“Master Dick,” Alfred exclaimed immediately, sounding startled. “What are you doing up?”
The butler was sitting on the edge of his bed, flipping through a large leather-bound tome that was laying open in his lap. He, too, was in his bathrobe, ready to retire after a long, surprising, and overall strange day. For everyone.
“I couldn’t sleep,” Dick said, coming into the bedroom and closing the door behind him. He wouldn’t want Aunt Harriet to accidentally overhear their conversation, even though Dick was fairly certain she was sound asleep by this time.
“I’m worried about Bruce,” Dick confided, taking a seat next to Alfred on the bed.
Alfred nodded, closing the book on his lap. “As Master Bruce was afraid you would be,” Alfred told him, setting his book down on his bedside table. “Which was exactly one of the reasons why he didn’t want you to know.” He turned at look down at Dick over the top of his glasses.
Dick fidgeted a bit under Alfred’s slightly disapproving tone. Sighing, Dick admitted, “I thought the truth would be better, but…I never imagined that what he was doing would be so dangerous. Not that I wanted to be lied to, and I’m glad he doesn’t have to anymore, but…it’s late.”
“I know,” Alfred said, placing a comforting hand on Dick’s shoulder.
“How do you handle it?” Dick asked, looking up at the person that he had come to see as a surrogate grandfather. Alfred was ever the voice of reason, and Dick was sure that if anyone could make him feel better about things, it was him. Not that Dick had a lot of other options anyway, being one of only three people that knew the truth.
Alfred took a deep breath before he let it out slowly. “This has made up the majority of our relationship - he’s been Batman since he was not much older than you. I’ve…gotten used to it, I suppose.”
“How can you get used to the boy you raised going out and risking his life like this?” Dick asked. He was vaguely aware of how accusing his tone was, which he hung his head for. “I’m sorry, Alfred. I just…” Dick broke off, not sure of what more he could even say at this point.
“It’s worrisome,” Alfred agreed, nodding. “It is. I’m not going to pretend that it isn’t. I just…try and not to think about it so much.” When Dick glanced at him quickly, Alfred clarified, “And I’m aware of how bad that sounded. But I’ve found that if I dwell too much on what Master Bruce is getting up to, on what danger he might be in, it will drive me crazy. I have to let him do it, because…it’s what he does. It’s what he’s done for a long time. What he wanted to do since he was very small. It became his dream, more or less, after what happened to his parents, to try and make sure that things like didn’t happen to anyone else.”
“Can’t blame him for that,” Dick said quietly, staring blankly at the small patch of moonlight streaming in through the window and landing on the carpet.
“Like I said,” Alfred went on carefully, “I try not to dwell on the specifics too much. You can’t. You simply can’t function in your daily life if you do, because it will soon grow to consume you. It quickly becomes overwhelming. It’s not good for your emotional state.”
Dick nodded, knowing Alfred was right. “But how do you do that? How do you keep it from consuming you? I try so hard to think about other things, but my mind inevitably goes back to Bruce and what he might be going through.”
“By keeping busy,” Alfred suggested.
“That’s why you’re so diligent in your work!”
“That’s not all of it,” Alfred disagreed, “but it is a large part of it, yes.” He shook his head. “If I didn’t have my work, I’d probably be sitting in the corner, rocking back and forth with the graveness of it all.”
Dick raised an eyebrow at him. “So you’re saying I should do more homework, hm?”
“That wasn’t my intention,” Alfred said around a smirk. “I was simply answering your question. But in your case, yes - that would involve throwing yourself into your schoolwork and homework a bit more.”
“Great,” Dick mumbled. “That sure sounds like a ball all right - being up at midnight, doing my homework.”
“You asked,” Alfred replied smugly.
“I just wish he would check in more,” Dick mused. “He’s been gone for six hours.”
“Sometimes the circumstances don’t allow for it,” Alfred reminded him, “and even then, he doesn’t like to call at this hour. He worries about disturbing you and Mrs. Cooper with the noise, even with the Batphone all the way down in the study.”
“I’m disturbed as it is,” Dick said. He put his hands behind him, using them to prop himself up on the mattress and gently leaning back on them. “Even if I did keep busy for most of the day, it’s lying in bed at night with nothing else to do that’s getting to me. My mind keeps going to Bruce and what kind of trouble he might be in.”
“If you don’t mind my saying,” Alfred replied, “I think that’s the wrong way to look at it, Master Dick.”
Looking up at the wise old man before him, Dick asked, “What do you mean?”
“Master Bruce has been doing this for a long time,” Alfred reminded him. “For a lot longer than you’ve even known him, to be sure. He’s careful and safety is his first priority. He doesn’t take unnecessary risks, and he doesn’t put himself in danger needlessly. He’s skilled, which has taken years of training and practice. He’s smart and calculating, and knows what to do and when to do it. In short, he’s good at what he does.”
“Gee, I don’t doubt that, Alfred,” Dick said. “Bruce is amazing. I know that. I’ve known that for as long as I’ve known him. It’s the criminal element that I’m not so sure about.”
“Indeed,” Alfred said grimly, nodding. “All we can really do, Master Dick, is trust that Master Bruce is taking care of himself like I’ve always known him to do. Like we’ve always known him to do.” When Dick gave him a questioning look, Alfred explained, “You’ve been living here long enough now to know how careful he is. Have you ever known him to come home bloodied and bruised? Have you ever known him to be in pain or distress of any kind?”
“No,” Dick replied, “but he has done a good job at hiding this entire thing from me. He could have been hiding other things too.”
“Rest assured,” Alfred told him, “that Master Bruce has never been seriously injured in any way.” After a moment of silence, he added, “And you know I wouldn’t tell you that unless it were absolutely true.”
“I know you wouldn’t, Alfred,” Dick acknowledged. “And I know he’s careful. I just still worry. I think about what happened to my parents, and my mind goes off on these tangents, coming up with all sorts of awful scenarios. I can’t help it.”
Just then, the door to Alfred’s room squeaked open, and the only person on the face of the earth that could assuage Dick’s fears stuck his head in.
“Bruce,” Dick gasped out. He leapt up off the bed and sprinted across the floor, nearly throwing himself into his guardian’s arms.
Bruce’s blue eyes darted up to Alfred in concern before he wrapped his strong and calming arms around Dick.
“I just looked in your room to check on you and you weren’t there,” Bruce explained. “I was a bit worried. You shouldn’t be up so late.”
“I was worried about you,” Dick said, pulling away from Bruce and looking up into his guardian’s eyes. “How can you expect me to sleep when you’re out there doing goodness knows what?”
A small smile passed over Bruce’s lips. “Now you see why I didn’t want you to know?” Bruce asked quietly. “This is exactly what I was trying to prevent.”
“I told him as much, sir,” Alfred commented.
“I know,” Dick sighed, “but I do know now, and I am going to worry. Not much we can do about that now, is there?” Placing his hands on his hips, Dick stared up at his guardian, giving him a meaningful glance.
They had already discussed this, and Bruce knew Dick was going to be worried about him. It was only because Dick cared about him and loved him, and Bruce couldn’t exactly be upset about that.
“No,” Bruce admitted. Placing a calming hand on Dick’s shoulder, he said, “And I’m fine, Dick.” He paused for a moment and looked up at Alfred. “I hardly even laid eyes on the Riddler, much less put myself in any sort of danger whatsoever.”
“What happened?” Dick asked, that excitement ebbing at his voice once again. “Where were you all night if you didn’t run into him? Didn’t you check out the steelworks?”
“I did,” Bruce said, pacing across the room to the window, “and it was still abandoned.” When he turned back to face Alfred and Dick again, he continued, “All I found was another riddle. I followed it to another location, where I found yet another riddle. And another. And another. You get the idea. This went on for quite some time until I realized that the Riddler was simply leading me on a wild goose chase.”
“But why?” Dick asked, furrowing his brow. He had taken a seat on the bed next to Alfred again, leaning intensely towards Bruce. It was like he was waiting on baited breath to find out more.
“That,” Bruce said, “is the $64,000 question. “One that I don’t have an answer for. Well, he’s clearly trying to distract me. That much is obvious, but…he takes enjoyment out of giving me real clues and seeing how quickly I can catch up to him. He must be trying to bide his time while he’s planning something big, but…what?”
“What was the last clue you received, sir?” Alfred asked. “They may have been leading you on a wild goose chase, but he’s going to have to give you a legitimate clue sooner or later, isn’t he? He can’t help himself.”
“No, he can’t, Alfred.” Bruce withdrew a small scrap of paper from his pocket and explained, “I found this one at the last location I went to - the Gotham City docks.” Bruce unfolded the slip of paper and read, “’Riddle me this, Batman: He who makes it has no need for it. He who buys it has no use for it. He who uses it can neither see nor feel it. What is it?’”
“Holy deadpan,” Dick muttered, his face morphing into a grimace. “The answer’s a coffin.”
“Correct,” Bruce agreed, pressing the fingers of one hand to his chin, “but what could he mean by it?”
“That he’s planning on killing you?” Dick asked as if it were the most obvious answer in the world.
”The Riddler’s wanted to kill me since the day he came to our fair metropolis. He wouldn’t write a riddle to tell me that much,” Bruce said, giving the small piece of paper a shake. “Not something I’m already painfully aware of. That would be a waste of his talents.”
“He wouldn’t be planning on holding up a funeral home or something, would he?” Dick asked, sounding sick to his stomach.
“Perhaps the grieving loved ones of a rich socialite such as yourself?” Alfred suggested.
“I wouldn’t put it past him,” Bruce said. “Not even that is beneath him, but no, I don’t think so. Kidnapping someone like Bruce Wayne and demanding ransom for his safe return would be much more lucrative. And predictable if he’s looking for a specific amount of money.” Staring down at the piece of paper in his hands, he shook his head. “No. The clue is obviously trying to tell me something else, but…I can’t quite grasp it.”
Bruce inhaled a heavy breath and let it out loudly, sounding frustrated. “Short of running around willy-nilly to all the places that have coffins - funeral homes, mortuaries, cemeteries - I didn’t know where else to go. So I decided to come home and sleep on it.”
Dick smiled up at Bruce, although there was something amiss about his expression. “Well, I am glad you’re home now, Bruce. Maybe now I can get some sleep.” Dick paused before he added, “As long as you’re not planning on running out again sometime in the middle of the night.”
“No worries, old chum,” Bruce reassured him. “I’ve had enough fun running around Gotham City for one night. I’m exhausted. And I imagine the Ridder’s off somewhere, laughing his head off about it all.” Shaking his head, Bruce added, “I need a break. And until I figure out what this clue could mean, or until the Riddler gives me something else more concrete to go on, I’m at a bit of a dead end anyway.”
“Things often do look brighter in the morning, sir,” Alfred suggested.
“Right you are, Alfred,” Bruce said, trying his best to sound cheery, but failing miserably. He gave a half-hearted smile, one that didn’t even come close to reaching his eyes, and made his way towards the door. When he put his hand on the doorknob, he turned back and asked, “Are you coming, Dick?”
Dick only nodded. His voice was caught somewhere in his throat, and he found that he simply couldn’t manage any words at that moment. It was just…too much.
Bruce nodded once at his butler before he pulled the door open. “Goodnight, Alfred.”
“Goodnight,” Dick added, following Bruce from the room.
As soon as they were out in the hall, Dick opened his mouth to speak, but Bruce silenced him with a finger to his lips. Bruce then used his finger to beckon Dick forward, leading him all the way back down the hall to the opposite wing. Neither of them spoke, not until they reached Dick’s room and were safely inside.
“What, Bruce?”
Bruce didn’t answer him right away, but spent nearly a minute pacing around Dick’s room, his fingers to his lips in quiet concentration. When he finally dared to speak, his tone was firm. “I wanted to make sure that you were, in fact, all right with all of this and that you weren’t going to do anything…reckless.”
“Reckless?” Dick asked, sounding shocked. “Like what? You don’t think I’m about to go after the Riddler myself?”
Bruce opened his mouth to respond, but then he thought better of his reply and shut his mouth.
“Bruce,” Dick said seriously, “I’d hardly know what to do if I did go after him.”
Bruce watched him closely, his eyes still squinted in thought. “You have martial arts training.”
“Are you trying to encourage me?”
“Of course not,” Bruce insisted. “Not at all.” Taking a few more steps across the room, Bruce glanced out of the window momentarily, staring up at the large and silvery moon in the sky. “I would never do such a thing. The last thing I would want is for you to put yourself in danger. I just can see why you might get such a foolish idea, and why you might try to act on it. I suppose it’s making me slightly uncomfortable that you seem so…interested and excited about what the Riddler might be planning.”
Bruce watched Dick closely for any sign that he may be right, and the fact that Dick wasn’t saying anything to prove him wrong didn’t help matters.
Bruce quickly went on, “I know you. I know the way you think.” Shoving his hands in pockets, Bruce then said, “I suppose that was another one of the reasons why I didn’t want you to know. Because you have this enormous sense of right and wrong, and it seems like something you might try to get involved in.”
“Bruce,” Dick said slowly and carefully, “nothing like that has even crossed my mind. I’m just…good at riddles and the fact that I might be able to help with them makes me feel important.”
Not daring to reply, Bruce just watched him, paying close attention to his young ward’s body language in particular. After nearly a minute had passed, Bruce said, “I thought we had agreed to lay all of our cards on the table.” His tone was unwavering and nearly bordering on scolding.
“Bruce…” Dick tried, but his guardian cut him off.
“Don’t lie to me.”
Dick appeared slightly shocked at the way his guardian suddenly seemed intent on getting him to admit every single thought that had crossed his mind in the last ten hours. Dick really abhorred when he earned that tone of voice from Bruce. Hanging his head, Dick stared down at the floor intently.
Taking a step towards him, Bruce raised a hand, but then lowered it again. “I’m sorry, Dick,” he said around a frustrated breath. “I didn’t intend for this conversation to be this uncomfortable. It’s just that I care and worry about you as much as you do about me. That feeling is very, very mutual. And just like you wouldn’t want me to needlessly endanger myself, I wouldn’t want you to do that either. Especially considering that you are my ward, and I’m supposed to look out for your best interests. It wouldn’t do if I led you, a minor, into such a dangerous path at such a young age.”
Dick didn’t say anything for a long time. He sat down on the edge of his bed in silence, staring down at his hands in his lap. “You wouldn’t be leading me into anything, Bruce. If I did do something like that, it would be of my own free will. Not because you tempted me into it or anything.”
“So you have thought about it,” Bruce observed.
“Momentarily,” Dick sighed. “When we were first going over that steelworks riddle, and again just now in Alfred’s room…” Dick broke off, glancing up at Bruce sheepishly. “That doesn’t mean I was going to do it. I just thought about it.”
“Momentarily,” Bruce repeated.
“Yes,” Dick insisted, and he really didn’t like where this conversation was going or the tones of voice that he and Bruce were taking with each other. Did it really have to be this tense and uncomfortable when they were only discussing their mutual concern for one another?
“Look,” Dick said flatly, “would there really be anything so bad about me trying to help you? That’s what I would just be doing - trying to help you. This world would be a much better place if our fellow man tried to do so a lot more. Isn’t that what you’ve always taught me?”
Bruce opened his mouth and then stopped. He looked vaguely like a fish with his lips parted in a silent expression somewhere between surprise and satisfaction. When he finally gathered his thoughts, he said, “All right. No, it wouldn’t be so bad for you to try and help me. I didn’t say that. Nor would I ever. And you have been helping me. I would still be mulling over that steelworks riddle if not for you. That much is fine and I appreciate it. Don’t think I don’t. But that’s where your involvement in this ends. I won’t tolerate you getting some high-toned idea that you’re going to join me in my crusade and become my partner. It’s not going to happen.”
“Fine,” Dick said, trying his best to sound like he didn’t care one way or the other what Bruce was telling him. “But you know, Bruce, thinking and doing are two entirely different things. You should know that by now.”
Bruce approached Dick’s bed, carefully and purposefully taking his steps. “I do know that, and I also know that you’re prone to coming up with slightly foolish ideas and not being able to let them go, even when you know you should.”
Dick clenched his hands tightly into fists. “You keep using that word - foolish. Was it so foolish when you decided to don the Batman cape for the first time when you weren’t much older than I am now?”
“You’ve been talking to Alfred, I see.”
“Of course I’ve been talking to Alfred!” Dick snapped. He didn’t know what had come over him, but he suddenly stood up, bounding so close to Bruce that he could feel the other man’s breath on his face. “What else am I supposed to do with you gone all night? I’ve been worried sick about you, and you don’t seem to care one bit!”
Bruce was taken aback, not only with the fact that Dick was yelling at him, but also with Dick’s words themselves. Bruce sucked in a breath, stepping backwards to try and calm the situation.
When Bruce spoke again, his voice was much quieter and softer. “I do care,” he replied adamantly. “I appreciate your concern, and I’m sorry you’ve been up all night with worry. That was one of the reasons why I didn’t want you to know about this at all if you’ll recall.”
“Oh, I recall,” Dick said quietly. “You would have rather continued to lie to me about it all. Believe me, Bruce, that’s not an easy thing to forget.”
“You’re putting words in my mouth,” Bruce protested, but he sounded tired. Dick could understand that, because he was too.
However, it wasn’t until then that Dick realized just how exhausted he really was, and how much he hated arguing with Bruce. They really hadn’t exchanged heated words like this before, and doing so had made a very uncomfortable feeling settle in the pit of his stomach. It was almost like a brick had made its home there, but not quite; it was a much emptier feeling than that. Still, it felt heavy, which didn’t quite make sense to him. How could something feel heavy and empty at the same time?
Dick almost wanted to crawl into bed then and there and forget this awful turn of events that the night had taken. As Alfred had told Bruce not so very long ago, things always looked better in the morning. Perhaps if they slept this argument off, the both of them would wake feeling much less hot-headed about a lot of things. Maybe then they could talk this thing through calmly like they usually did.
What was it about tonight that was making things so difficult? That was making them so cross with each other? Dick supposed it was just a mixture of everything that had happened so far today, a combination of everything they had felt so far. Dick tried to remind himself that in addition to being exhausted himself, Bruce was probably feeling frustrated with the way the investigation itself was going.
Dick had gone through a lot of emotional turmoil today, from finding out Bruce’s secret to being plunged into a world that was completely foreign to him. He simply didn’t know how to handle this - the worry over Bruce’s well-being and how to help his guardian with everything that he constantly dealt with. At least, he didn’t know how to handle it the way Alfred did. Not yet, anyway. Not to mention, Dick was up far past his bedtime, which didn’t help matters any. Perhaps they both needed some time to cool off.
“Look,” Dick sighed, “maybe we should just continue this in the morning. We’re tired and we’re irritable and…”
“You know I don’t like to leave things like this,” Bruce interrupted.
“It wouldn’t be the first time,” Dick muttered, remembering all the times Bruce had left in the middle of something to tend to the beckoning Batphone.
“Dick…” Bruce tried, but his voice trailed off. He seemed like he simply didn’t know what to say anymore, and neither did Dick for that matter.
“I just want to go to sleep,” Dick muttered. Haphazardly pulling off his bathrobe and throwing it somewhere in the vicinity of his chair, he laid down in bed and pulled the covers tightly around himself. He turned over, his back to Bruce, hoping that that would get the message across that this conversation was over.
Bruce didn’t leave right away. He waited awkwardly, perhaps trying to think of something to say, or simply just waiting for Dick to change his mind. After nearly a minute, Dick heard his guardian leave the room, pulling the door closed behind him with a snap.
Dick didn’t know why, but almost immediately, he felt tears springing up in his eyes. He squeezed his eyes shut, desperately trying to stave them off and wishing for sleep to claim him, but it didn’t help. The tears escaped his eyelids, dripping down his nose and cheeks to pool on his pillow.
Seemingly out of nowhere, the Riddler’s coffin clue popped up in his mind again, which only served to make Dick cry harder. As much as Bruce had tried to brush it off, it made Dick terrified for his guardian.
In reality, it held much more significance than either of them could have imagined.
What could the Riddler have in store for our beloved heroes?
Will they be able to overcome this recent turn of events in their relationship?
Or will they destroy themselves just as surely as the Riddler is trying to do?
For the answers to these and other horrifying questions,
Tune in next time…
Same fan site…
Same fan channel.
Until then, hold onto your seats, Batfans!