Fic: The Raven And The Nightingale Book III: Cherry Blossoms (22/22)
Title: The Raven And The Nightingale Book III: Cherry Blossoms (22/22)
Author: BradyGirl_12
Pairings/Characters (this chapter): Bruce/Dick, Lana Lang
Genres: Angst, AU, Drama, Historical, Mystery, Romance
Rating (this chapter): G
Warnings (this chapter): None
Spoilers: None
General Summary: Bruce and Dick get caught up in political intrigue during a business trip to Washington City.
Chapter Summary: Bruce struggles with the fall-out of his confrontation with Dick.
Date Of Completion: May 12, 2020
Date Of Posting: July 12, 2022
Disclaimer: I don’t own ‘em, DC does, more’s the pity.
Word Count: 1408
Feedback welcome and appreciated.
Author’s Note: The entire series can be found here.
Dance of fire,
Sparks of ire,
Floats in grace,
A torrid pace.
Natalya Rosskovich
"The Spirit Of Ballet"
1848 C.E.
Bruce gradually crawled into bed and fell into a fitful sleep, tortured by visions of fire and pain...
& & & & & &
He coughed as smoke clogged his lungs. He screamed, "Harvey!" The roar of the fire hurt his ears. There was a pounding on the door as he stumbled through the flames, desperation pushing him on. His jacket sleeve caught fire and the flames traveled along the fabric at frightening speed.
"Harvey!"
He thought he could see a figure through the flames and tried to move forward, but his shoes were stuck to the floor. The figure disappeared behind a wall of smoke as Bruce coughed and coughed...
& & & & & &
Bruce awoke with a cry. He reached for Dick but the memory crashed down on him: Dick was not there.
He sat up, drenched in sweat. It had been a long time since he had suffered that nightmare. He rubbed his face and sat immobile for a minute. Sunlight was streaming in through the closed blinds. He had neglected to draw the drapes.
"Damn it," he said softly.
He dragged himself out of bed and showered, shaved and dressed. His stomach was not ready for any food. He would call room service for coffee.
He opened the blinds and saw a beautiful spring day outside. There was a morning stream of traffic, horses clopping along and an occasional automobile driving by. The cars made him think of Dick and their plans to motor around the countryside someday in his custom-made Pierce-Arrow.
He kept watching the traffic and fifteen minutes later there was a knock on the door. When he answered it a kitchen busboy wheeled in a cart with a full pot of coffee and plate of fresh pastries.
"Compliments of the hotel, sir."
"Thank you." Bruce tipped him.
What to do today? Try and talk to Dick? Yes, that's what he would do.
Bruce knocked on the door between the suites but there was no answer. He tried the door. Locked.
He went out into the hall and saw a maid's cart outside of Dick's suite. The door was open. He looked inside.
The stout maid was making the bed with fresh sheets. Bruce noticed the dresser no longer had Dick's brush and comb and the loose change he kept in an ashtray. No clothes draped over chairs, and the closet was empty.
"Miss?" The maid turned. "Is Mr. Richard Grayson still the occupant?"
"No, sir I'm gettin' the room ready for someone new."
"Thank you."
Bruce returned to his suite.
& & & & & &
In a well-appointed study, a man picked up the telephone receiver and made a call. He waited and started to talk when the person he had called came to the phone.
"Yes, Lionel Luthor is out of the country. One step ahead of the Secret Service. A shame, really. He could have been useful." He listened to the other person. "We do not need to regret the loss of the formula. I have arranged for the escape of the formula's inventor from Iron Gate. Dr. Jonathan Crane will be in Europe, working for us." He laughed. "Our stockpile of weapons grows as the Continent marches toward war. There will be much saber-rattling, but eventually the saber will strike. Arrange for passage for Dr. Crane on the Atlantic Queen, under a false name, of course. With any good fortune, the good doctor will be sailing before the week is out." The caller nodded. "All right, I will be in touch."
He hung up and smiled.
& & & & & &
Dick danced with the strength of a whirling dervish. The rehearsal was just what he needed. Bruce had lied to him, and Selina was a disappointment, too. He thought he had a real friendship with her.
Dick executed an arabesque. On his way home from the Library of Congress, the fact that Selina had been at the Townshend ball the night of the ball and had also been at the Archduke Ferdinand reception when a robbery had occurred had made him think. Her love of jewelry and objets d'art like the Townshend cat statue was no secret. It had all clicked for him in a flash of insight.
i knew something was off that night at the Townshends'. Seems my instincts were right.
Dick ended with a powerful leap and Jean-Paul said, "Well, now, someone was practicing. You can quit for the day."
Dick knew that he was receiving high praise from the high-handed Jean-Paul. He left the stage and went to his dressing room. He sat before his dressing table and crossed his arms and legs, his towel around his neck. His feet were throbbing but he ignored the pain. He was used to it. The pain he was not used to was his feeling of betrayal.
i knew Bruce was messed up. His driving need to control... probably a result of what happened to his parents. I know I felt helpless after my parents...
Dick wiped his face with the towel. A knock on the door was followed by Donna sticking her head in.
"Roy's going to treat us to lunch. We better take advantage." She frowned. "Still confused about Mr. Wayne?"
Dick chuckled ruefully. "Yeah." He stood up. "Let's take advantage."
& & & & & &
Bruce watched Dick's performance from his box. His eyes never left the lithe figure. Dick seemed to possess an extra fire tonight.
Driven by anger?
Bruce noticed a flash of red down by the front row. He used his opera glasses and saw that the red hair belonged to Lana Lang.
Bruce stayed in his box during intermission and brooded during the second act. He had made mistake-after-mistake with Dick. Damn his need for control! Could Dick ever forgive him?
He's angry. It could take some time for him to calm down. I'll just have to be patient.
He was ashamed of his lies. Dick deserved better.
Bruce kept focused on his lover. He could have watched Dick dance a thousand times but it always seemed fresh and exciting. He lost himself in the beauty and grace of Dick's movement.
& & & & & &
Bruce waited until the audience had filed out of the theater and went backstage. As he approached Dick's dressing room, he saw Lana and a friend at the door. Lana knocked and Dick said, "Come in." The women giggled as they entered.
Looks like I'll have to wait until tomorrow.
Bruce left the building and wandered the streets, finally returning to the hotel. Tomorrow, he would speak to Dick. They would return home to Gotham and work it out.
& & & & & &
Bruce awoke the next day, ready to see Dick and stop living in limbo. He quickly went through his morning ablutions and answered a knock on the door. A bellhop held out an envelope.
"Message for you, sir."
A tip and Bruce opened the envelope.
& & & & & &
April 27, 1908
Dear Bruce,
I think we need some time apart. Jean-Paul accepted a booking for a summer tour. We start in Hartford and will travel throughput the Northeast, ending up in Boston in the fall.
Go home to Gotham, Bruce.
Dick
& & & & & &
Bruce stared at the note for a very long time. He laid it on the table.
Despite his anger at me, Dick's still being kind. He could have said don't come with the company. Instead, he writes 'Go home to Gotham.'
He left the suite and walked over to Lafayette Park and sat down on a bench with a view of the White House. He wondered if he should go and see his uncle, but decided against it.
Dick's right. Gotham gives me strength. Time to go back.
He stood and took one last look at the White House. It was time to go home to Gotham.
This entry has been cross-posted from Dreamwidth. Comment on either entry as you wish. :)
This chapter can also be read on AO3.