Chapter Three: Bruce Wayne

The two youngsters timidly entered the rarified world of the Wayne Enterprises Executive Suite, which was comprised of a series of interconnected luxurious offices and conference rooms. The spacious reception area overlooked a stunning, sun-dappled atrium, graced by charming, dancing fountains and lovely, growing greenery. Dick and Barbara took a moment to admire the restful vista. It was a view of which Dick never tired.

They quietly crossed the carpeted reception area over to Bruce Wayne's executive assistant's desk.

Maggie looked up delightedly at the sight of Dick. "Dick! What a pleasant surprise. I wasn't expecting you today, sweetie. Are you here to see Mister Wayne?"

At the twin glum nods, Maggie raised a single eyebrow. "Is Mister Wayne expecting you?" The two heads shook, no, in tandem. Maggie quirked a small smile. "Let me see if he's free." She indicated a pair of chairs for them to sit down on.

A few minutes later, the door to the CEO's private office opened. The dark, handsome figure of Bruce Wayne emerged, a small smile lighting his usually grim features.

"Dick. Barbara. What a pleasant surprise. To what do I owe this unexpected visit?" Bruce walked up to Barbara and kissed her lightly on the cheek. "Barbara, I believe that you're even lovelier than the last time I saw you. Come on in, you two. I have a few minutes before my next meeting. Maggie, please hold my calls."

Maggie nodded, smiling sympathetically at Dick as he followed Bruce into his office.

Bruce ushered the unusually quiet duo to a small sitting area in his office.

"Have a seat, you two." He waited while they sat down. "Care for something to drink?"

"No, thank you, sir," Dick said quietly, while Barbara shook her head, no.

"You two look like you have something of great import to get off your chests. What happened?" At the kids' quickly exchanged looks, Bruce added still pleasantly, but with a slightly harder edge. "It'll go easier on you if just tell it straight out."

Dick sighed and was about to begin, when he was quickly beaten to the punch by Barbara...

"So you see, Bruce, it's all my fault. I did a stupid thing, and we got caught." She shook her head, her eyes pleading. "You're not going to tell my father are you?"

"Of course not, Barbara. You're a responsible twenty-one-year-old girl who did something incredibly juvenile, just as you said. I expect *you* to tell your father yourself."

"But, Bruce--" Barbara protested. At his stern look, she stopped and took a deep breath. "I'll tell Dad myself." She stood up. "I'll wait outside. I guess you want to talk to Dick privately." Bruce nodded. As Barbara was about to open the door, she turned abruptly.

"Oh, and while you two are talking in private, Dick why don't you go ahead and ask Bruce why you think he's ashamed of you, and feels only contempt for you. And Bruce, why don't you tell Dick why you've been avoiding him for the past year." She looked at their stunned expressions and grinned beatifically. "Oh, and don't forget to tell each other how much you love one another. That's all."

When the door closed behind Barbara, the room fell into a deathly silence.

Oh, God, please let the floor swallow me, Dick prayed silently. Why are girls like that, he added darkly, so sneaky and treacherous?

"Dick, is that true?" Bruce finally asked. "Do you believe that I feel ashamed of you?" Dick looked at him for a long time, feeling the tears of shame begin to form behind his eyes. Finally, unable to hold his guardian's gaze any longer, Dick dropped his eyes and nodded.

"Yessir," he whispered.

"But why? What could possibly have put such a preposterous notion in your head?" Bruce sounded sincerely stunned by the revelation.

"Oh, I don't know," Dick began, attempting to keep a light tone. "Maybe it's 'cause since Two-Face's last escape, you've avoided me like I had leprosy or something." Dick felt the hot tears finally give way, but he didn't care. "Ever since that night...you've hardly talked to me. As soon as I walk into a room, you find some excuse to get up and walk out. Except when I'm Robin, you won't hardly say a whole sentence to me...and then only if you have to." Dick shrugged his shoulders. "I-I know I failed you that night. I should've been able to escape. Instead, I fell right into his trap, and almost got killed because of it." Dick looked down on the floor. "I almost wish I *had* been killed."

"Don't *say* that!!" Bruce's answering roar could be heard on the other side of the door. "Don't *ever* say that...do you hear me?" He quickly closed the space between them. "Look at me, Dick," Bruce said fiercely, his dark blue eyes piercing his ward's. "I am not, nor have I ever been, ashamed of you or anything that you've ever done. You make me proud every day that I know you. Do you understand? Proud. Proud of who you are...and of the young man you'll become in a few more years. Most of all, I'm proud that you're my son."

Dick looked up at that, then quickly looked away.

"I don't understand, Bruce. If that's true, then why--?"

Bruce lowered himself slowly next to Dick on the sofa. He sat still for so long, Dick finally turned to see if there was something wrong. Bruce ran a hand across his face and through his hair, then looked down at his feet. He was almost a mirror image of how Dick had looked just a few minutes prior.

"I'm sorry, Dick," Bruce said softly. "I didn't realize that I'd been doing that to you." Bruce let out a sigh, the memories of the previous year's pain- filled night suddenly washing over him. "When I saw you standing there with the noose around your neck, the hangman ready to throw the switch, I think I went a little crazy. You looked so beaten, bruised, bloodied. Even from where I stood I could see that you must've been suffering from severe internal injuries and broken bones. I just managed to throw the batarang and cut the rope...a split second later and..." Bruce paused unable to go on. Getting his raging emotions under control, he finished. "A split second later and I would've lost you forever. If there is anyone that I've felt only shame and contempt for this past year, it's been myself."

Bruce stood up suddenly, his back to Dick. Dick also rose, and feeling a bit unsure, walked up next to Bruce.

"Contempt for yourself?" Dick asked confused. "Buy why? You saved me. You saved us both. When I couldn't. Robin the Boy Hostage...big joke. I deserve your contempt. I know that I'm not proud of my actions that night."

"No! You have nothing to be ashamed of!" Bruce denied, grabbing Dick by the shoulders. He gave the startled boy a good shake. "Do you hear me? You did yourself proud that night, Dick. You withstood their unspeakable tortures and abominations and still managed to face them down with dignity and defiance. Even in the face of death. I couldn't be more proud of you."

Bruce's fierce eyes softened momentarily, the memory of Dick's heroic stance still clear in his mind. Bruce reached up tentatively and brushed a stray lock from Dick's forehead. How often had he combed back that same lock of hair since Dick first came into his life, Bruce suddenly wondered? Remembering what Dick had gone through at the hands of Two-Face and his own inability to shield his ward from the atrocities inflicted upon him, Bruce felt himself overwhelmed by feelings of self-guilt.

"I hated Harvey for what he did to you," Bruce whispered intensely. "He even videotaped it." At Dick's startled look, Bruce paused, his jaw working through his anger. "I didn't tell you that, did I? Harvey intended to play it over and over for me while he held me prisoner in that cell back in the warehouse. Then after he'd had his fun, gloating at my expense and the considerable pain he'd caused me, he was going to lead me to the second gallows and execute me as well. But I escaped, and as it turned out, that was even better for him. Because when I caught him a couple of days later at the old abandoned Channel Two twin broadcast towers...or rather, when he let me catch him, he was playing the videotape on what seemed to be hundreds of monitors."

Bruce walked over to the panoramic picture windows that lined his executive suite. He stood looking out over his beloved Gotham City, the home he'd sworn to protect.

"You were lying there on all those screens...surrounding me," Bruce continued in a faraway voice. "Naked, bleeding, broken. And still they kept beating you, long after you'd lost consciousness." His fists clenched, Bruce's voice took on a new timbre, almost an animalistic snarl. "I wanted to *kill him*...with my bare hands." Bruce paused. He slowly unclenched his fists and dropped them to his sides, resting his hot forehead on the window's cool glass. After a long moment, he continued, his voice barely above a whisper. "I almost did it. I almost killed him right there and then. I had his neck between my hands. I felt my hands squeezing. Squeezing. I could feel his struggles weakening."

Dick saw Bruce's shoulders suddenly slump, the weight of his guilt bearing heavily upon him.

"But I couldn't do it. I hated myself even more then. I destroyed all of the tapes, but one. While you lay in your bed, near death, and I thought that I was going to lose you forever, I played the tape over and over, reminding myself that it was my fault. That I was the one who'd trained you, encouraged you, and brought you into this dangerous life. I'd brought you...a child who trusted me...to *this*. A child whom I'd promised to raise and protect. I thought that I'd go mad."

Bruce paused for several minutes, the silence between them hanging like a death shroud. Dick could hear a phone ringing in another office, the sound of laughter from somewhere in the executive suite.

"Then, thankfully, you made a turn for the better. Doctor Leslie assured me that you were going to make a full recovery." Bruce turned and faced Dick. "I think that the news might have saved my sanity. But the harm had already been done." Bruce held his thumb and forefinger close together. "You'd come *this* close to dying...and I-I didn't think I that could face another close call. Dick, I'm sorry I behaved as I did. I think that for the past year I've been living in a self-imposed denial. If I didn't talk to you about what happened, then maybe I could pretend that it never did."

"I don't understand, Bruce," Dick said helplessly. "How could not talking to me make it all go away?"

Bruce shrugged his shoulders. "I don't know. It couldn't, I guess." He swallowed. "I've told myself over and over that you're alive, that everything's all right. I've watched you as Robin for the past year. Your performance has been exemplary as usual. You've even improved somewhat...I've noticed your stealth skills are better than they've been before, and your acrobatics...Kid, if you're not the best all-around gymnast in the world..."

Dick smiled at the compliment. He knew that his natural athletic skills had been honed to perfection since he'd started training as Batman's partner.

"You're trusting me to guard Gotham City by myself this weekend," Dick reminded his guardian.

"I know. Believe me, I know. Dick, did you know that the JLA satellite transporter can have me here in under a minute?" At Dick's stunned look, Bruce smiled sheepishly. "Yeah. I've planned it for several weeks now." He gave Dick an apologetic look. "I'm sorry, chum. I assure you that I have the utmost trust and confidence in you. It's just that I worry about you. And after what happened with Two-Face, I'm afraid that my natural worry turned into outright obsession." Bruce sighed. "I promise you, that I won't use the JLA satellite transporter. I know you can handle the job. I mean...who trained you?"

Dick smiled uncertainly. "I know you believe in me, Bruce. And I know you trust me. What worries me is..." he stopped.

Bruce gave him a "go on" look.

"What worries me is your sudden obsession about me getting hurt. I mean, let's face it, Bruce. The superhero business isn't exactly sanctioned by OSHA." Bruce gave Dick a sardonic grin at the boy's reference to the government's occupational safety agency. "I hope it never happens again...I mean, I'm certainly gonna do my best to prevent it, but I could get hurt again some day. You could, too."

Bruce gave Dick a half-grin, his eyes acknowledging the truth of Dick's statement. "I know, Dick. And either one of us could be killed at home from some careless accident. But that doesn't take away from the fact that I worry about *you*. Just as Alfred worries about the both of us." Bruce walked up to Dick and placed a hand gently on his shoulder. "You're my son, and I worry about you." Bruce shrugged. "Better get used to it, kid, because on your forty- sixth birthday I'll probably still be worrying about you. It's the nature of the beast, you see."

At Dick's clearly uncomprehending look, Bruce explained. "Parenthood. A parent may get stuck with worrying about his kid, but the kid gets stuck with his parents' incessant worrying. So, Dick, what this means is that while I'm stuck with worrying about you--"

"--I'm stuck with you worrying about me," Dick finished with a smile. "I guess I can live with that, Bruce."

Bruce returned the smile, squeezing Dick's shoulder gently. "Good." Father and son stood in companionable silence for a few moments. His eyes taking a mischievous glint, Bruce asked slyly, "So tell me about the 'big date' with--" Bruce nodded his head towards the door. Dick understood immediately that Bruce meant Barbara.

"Well, she promised not call me 'Munchkin' anymore," Dick said shrugging resignedly. Bruce placed his hand behind Dick's neck and squeezed affectionately.

"Don't worry, chum. You have plenty of time for girls. I mean, you're only sixteen. Who knows, in another couple of years, you may even meet a girl your own age." Bruce immediately ducked under Dick's fist.

"Maybe I'll wait till I'm *you're* age, so I can date girls ten years younger than me!" Dick shot back laughing.

"Hey! You've been reading Gotham Gertie's column again," Bruce protested. "I assure you, my young friend, that all the women I date are most assuredly 'women'."

Dick sighed. "Don't I *know* it. Who *was* that dish you were out with Thursday night?"

"Dick, I've never dated a 'dish' in my life," Bruce replied exasperatedly. "You must have me confused with the spoon who ran away with one." Dick smiled at Bruce's rare moment of humor. "But, yeah, Selina Kyle *is* quite stunning, isn't she? What do you say to a quiet family dinner Friday night, so that you can meet her?"

Dick's eyebrows traveled all the way up to his hairline. This *was* serious. Bruce never introduced Dick to any of his casual dates. Dick was suddenly intrigued.

"I think I can fit a family dinner into my tight social calendar, Bruce," Dick said smiling.

"I'm glad," Bruce said quietly, "because there isn't anything more important in the world than 'family', is there?"

"No, sir, there isn't," Dick agreed making his way towards the door.

"Oh, by the way, Dick," Bruce called. Dick paused before opening the door. "Run a search on the computer for me when you get home. There seems to be a strange new crime wave hitting Gotham City."

"Strange?" Dick asked. "How so?"

"Strange in that all the robberies seem to be somehow related to cats." Bruce shrugged. "Sounds harmless enough, but you never know."

Dick nodded. "Run a computer check on any feline felonies found in our fair city. Gotcha!"

Bruce threw him a "get out of here" look, and Dick quickly ducked out laughing.

Cotinued...

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