Gifts - Part Two, Chapter Three

by Marla F. Fair

            Another day had passed.  The other superheroes had either gone home or were out hunting for the Pretender, following what few clues Dick had been able to give them.  Unfortunately, his memories were sketchy at best.  He had been able to describe the Pretender but had told them there seemed to be no reason for its actions.  He had never encountered the villain before.  The only thing he knew for certain was that it was obviously insane.  Koriand’r continued to suspect there was more to it than he was willing to admit.  Standing now inside the Manor, watching her husband as he sat on the sun-kissed lawn playing with his son, she could not fail to notice the cloud that continued to hang over him, shadowing everything he did.  He had been unusually quiet since his return and intensely introspective.  More than once she had caught him watching her when he thought she was unaware and more often than not, there were tears in his eyes.  He seemed conflicted and almost detached. 

A part of them and yet not. 

            Turning to the one person who knew him as well as she, she asked “What do you think it is?”

            The older man shook his head and sighed.  “I don’t know.”  He walked to her side and stared out the window at his son.  “But there is one thing I do know.”
            “And what is that?”

            His blue eyes were keen and they flashed in the late afternoon sun.  “He has lied to us.”

            The tall woman glanced at her husband and then back to the man who stood before her.  “Dick?  Lied?  About what?  Why?”

            Bruce tossed the book he held in his hand to the floor and erupted in fury.  “About everything!  About who took him and why.  About how he ended up where he was found.  About everything!”  He met her green eyes.  “You know I am right, Princess.  You feel it too.”

“Yes.”  She looked at Dick.  He was rising from the grass with his son in his arms.

She watched as he pulled him close and seemed to shudder.  “But why?”

            “He’s protecting someone.  That has to be it.”

            Her eyes returned to her husband’s foster father and she watched as the fine lines around his eyes deepened in thought.  “Who?  Not...”

            “John?  You?  Nightstar?”  He shook his head.  “I don’t know.  Certainly not himself.  He would sacrifice himself in a minute for any one of you.”

            “Or for you,” she said quietly.

            The Batman’s eyes flicked to her face and away.  “My life is all but over.  I would give it gladly for him or for your son or...yes, Koriand’r, even for you.”

            The Tamaranean’s eyes narrowed and she turned back towards the window.  Dick was nowhere to be seen.  “You said once you thought this had something to do with family.”

            “Yes.”  He brushed his chin with his fingers.  “I still do.”

            “Two-face hated Dick, didn’t he?  And you?”
            “Yes.  What are you thinking?”
            She shook her head, brushing aside the mountains of madder hair.  “Just that somehow it seems we have been diverted.”  She looked him straight in the eye.  “Perhaps neither Dick or John were the real target here.”

            Dick Grayson sat on one of six benches located on the stone terrace attached to the eastern side of the manor.  The courtyard was a new edition, not something that had been there when he was a kid—back before the Batman had chosen to spend any time in the light.  He had just put John to bed and kissed Kory, promising her he would return in a few minutes.  He remained, watching the sun set, knowing before the next day at dawn, time would run out. 

            Before six in the morning either Bruce or his son would be dead.

            He still didn’t understand why Two-face and his ‘child’ had allowed him the precious few hours they had.  Perhaps to make the choice all the more poignant. He stood abruptly and rammed his hand into the stone wall behind the bench.  The scars that had just begun to heal on it split and spit blood.

Damn them!  How could they expect him to make such a choice!  How could anyone choose between two people they loved?

            “Dick.”

            He froze.  Then he sighed.  A moment later he turned to find a tall lean figure silhouetted against by the soft light that spilled from the study.  “Bruce.  I didn’t hear you arrive.”
            “Your thoughts were elsewhere.”  His mentor took a step forward.  The cool light of the new moon struck his angular face, highlighting his hawkish features.  “Won’t you tell me where?”

            Dick started to lie again.  Then he shook his head.  “Bruce, I can’t.  Don’t ask me.”

            “Son, we want to help— ”

            “You can’t!” The dark-haired man spun on his heels and looked out over the lawn toward Gotham.  “You don’t understand....”
            “Then make me.”  Bruce crossed the terrazzo floor and came to stand beside him.  “Dick, it isn’t easy for me to beg.  But I am.  I’m begging you—tell me what’s wrong.”

            His son drew a breath.  The words were on the tip of his tongue, but he held them there.  He knew.  Even before they had formed in his mind, he knew the logical progression of events their telling would lead to.  Bruce would react in horror.  He would forbid him to go anywhere.  Then, he would sacrifice himself.  He turned and looked into the cool blue eyes and thought about what it would be like to never see them again.  Then he thought of his son.  It was impossible.  He couldn’t choose.

            He wouldn’t.

            “I have to go.”
            “Go where?  Dick...?”

            “Kory’s waiting,” he tossed his head and grinned sheepishly.  “We haven’t....  Well....”  One black eyebrow winged towards his bangs.  “Tonight’s the first night I’ve felt up to...”  He turned brick red.  “I didn’t mean it that way.”

            Bruce shook his head.  “You’ll find I don’t shock easily.”  Then he grinned.  “Tell Koriand’r good night.  And John.”

            Dick looked stricken for a moment.  Then he smiled.  “I’ll give him a kiss for you.”

            “ ‘Night, son.”

            “Good night, Bruce.”  He stepped into the shadows and put his hand on the handle of the French door.  Then he turned back.  “And Bruce...”

            “Yes?”

            “I love you.”

            Seventy-two hours later Bruce stood looking at the same face.  Its eyes were closed now and its lips pressed into a sort of vapid smile.  Dick’s pale skin was a shade too dark.  His hair too perfect.  Even his hands were caked with the thick compound they had been forced to use to conceal the myriad of wounds which had disfigured them the last time he had seen him alive.

            Barely alive.

            The others had left the room.  They had held the services in the Manor.  He could hear Mar’i sobbing in the background as Ibn led her out of the ballroom and up the stair.  Koriand’r was out on the lawn playing half-heartedly with her son.  The little boy didn’t understand.  Couldn’t.  He remembered the bright blue eyes looking at his father’s corpse and waving.  “G’bah, Da-dah,” he had whispered.

            Good-bye.

            He felt fingers press his shoulder and turned to find Diana by his side.  “It is never easy,” she said, her face stoic, “and it gets no easier.”

            He nodded.  “I thank you for your honesty.”
            She reached out and touched Dick’s cold hand and shook her head.  “ I do not know which is harder.  Having no body to mourn, or seeing the one you love...”  She paused and her voice broke, “...loved...like this.”

            He shook his head. 

Better like this than what he had found in that duplex three days before.

            After Dick had left him he had remained in the courtyard.  The night was flying fast and he knew sleep would elude him as it had done so many times before.  He sat with his chin in his hand, thinking of his former ward and his striking wife in each other’s arms, remembering  Talia and the few brief moments they had shared which had come as close to love as he had ever known. He was still sitting, in the same position, several hours later when a tousled and sleepy-eyed Koriand’r appeared in the study door, yawning.

            “Dick?” she called as she stepped onto the stones.

            He stood up, immediately alert.  “No, Princess.  It’s Bruce.  Isn’t Dick with you?”
            She shook her head as she approached.  “He came back to the room.  John was crying.  He sat with him a while and then said he was coming to find you.  That he had something to ask you.  I must have fallen asleep.  He isn’t—?”  She stopped short, suddenly terrified.  “X’Hal, Bruce, where is he?”

            “Did you check on John?”

            She nodded.  “He’s in his bed.”  She stifled a yawn and blinked, clearing sleep from her eyes.  “Funny thing, he had a nose-bleed.  That’s never happened before.  Dick was very upset.”

            The man before her gasped, “A nosebleed?”

“Yes....”

“Out of nowhere?”

Kory sighed and ran a hand along her neck.  “Yes.”

The older man struck his fist into his hand.  “That’s it!  How could I have been so blind...?”

            “Bruce, what?” 

            Her father-in-law groaned.  “God, no.  No, God, no.  Not for me....”

            “Bruce, what is it?”

            He shook his head.  “Put on your costume.  We need to get to that house.” 

            She started to do as he said and then swung back, “I will have to find someone to watch John.  Nightstar isn’t— ”

            “The ‘bots can do it.”

            She shook her head.  “No.  I will not put him at risk....”

            “He’s in no danger here.  I’m not certain now he ever was.”

“What?  I need an explanation, old man.”

            “Its me.”  He sighed and ran a hand through his hair.  “It’s been me all along.”

            Twenty minutes later they arrived at the house in the dilapidated neighborhood, just as the rising sun peeped over the horizon.  They landed on the roof.  The Batman glanced at the woman at his side and drew a breath.  He knew she wouldn’t listen.  Still he had to try.  “Princess.  Koriand’r.  I think you should wait while I go inside.”

            Her heart-shaped face turned towards him, the jaw set. “This is my husband. I will not cower out here while you rush in to save him.”

            The words formed, but he couldn’t speak them.  Couldn’t tell her.  Couldn’t admit he was afraid.  If he had not been who he was, he would not have had the courage to face what he feared was inside.  “At least let me go in first.”

            “Why?  Bruce, what is it you fear?”

            He turned his face toward the sun and shuddered as its warm rays caressed his cold cheeks.  What was it he feared?  “Only what I have always feared....”  he whispered. 

That death had won.

            They found him in the middle of the floor in the upstairs room that held the crib.  Koriand’r had shrieked as her feet touched the carpet and fallen to her knees by his side.    Had it not been for the costume and the raven hair, they might not have recognized him for all the blood.

            “Bruce?”

            He turned towards her and whispered, “Diana, you asked me a while back if I believed in God.”

            She stepped away from the coffin and looked at him.  The light that poured in the window showed an old man, bent and broken by pain.  “Yes, I remember,” she said cautiously, “so....?”

            “If there is a god,” his lips curled in anger and his fingers formed a ball, “then he or she is cruel and capricious and allows innocents to pay for the sins of the guilty.”

            “Bruce....” her voice was hushed, “you should not say such things....”

            He shook his head and touched his son’s cold face and shuddered.  “Don’t worry. Diana.  I won’t be punished.

            “There is no god.”

Continued in Part Three