Batman Beyond fic: If You're Lucky [Gen, PG]

[dotfic]

Title: If You're Lucky
Author: dotfic
Rating: PG, Gen
Word count: ~3,000
Fandom: Batman Beyond
A/N: Set after ROTJ but before Epilogue. Batman Beyond is the property of WB Animation and DC. Thanks to thecryingwillow who gave me the nudge I needed to get this out of my brain and onto the page, and the incredibly sharp-eyed mtgat who saves me from the silliest errors.

Summary: Batman needs a Robin. Terry seeks advice.



The fourth laser canon swiveled and unleashed another barrage. Matt ducked, tucked, and rolled. He came up on his feet and darted to the left.

"That's it, keep moving!" Behind him he thought he could hear the old man's voice shouting something similar at him, years ago. But when Terry turned, there was nothing there but the hollow shadows of the cave. The old man was upstairs, breathing into an oxygen mask.

"Ow! Hey!" Matt yelled.

An alarm beeped. Terry snapped his attention back to Matt, who stood confused among the gauntlet of laser guns, all of which had gone suddenly still and dark.

"What did I do wrong?"

"You got hit."

"One time!"

"One time's too many. What if they were real lasers? Sorry, kid, game over. Do the run again and this time, move faster, twip."

"Takes one to know one."

Resist the temptation to go too easy on him.

"No lip from you. And just for that, I'm raising the setting from four to five."

"Awwwww."

You want him to survive, you can't be his buddy.

"Tell you what, dweeb. If you make it through this run without getting hit once, I'll buy you a pizza."

"Deal!"

Matt loped back to the beginning of the course and knelt with his fingers light on the cave floor, eyes straight ahead. He'd always been small for his age, but as a teenager he was filling out some, broad in the shoulder. As an adult he'd probably be stockier than Terry.

He was still a brat, though. Terry hit the switch to start the course. Matt leapt forward and twelve canons swiveled, looking for him.

The lasers hit him four more times during that training session.

Matt didn't speak to Terry again until the next day.

He's going to hate you. Be prepared for that.

Bruce lowered the oxygen mask from a face that had gone hard and blank. "I don't think that's a good idea, Terry."

Bruce put the mask back up to his mouth and inhaled painfully.

Terry sat down in the armchair opposite Bruce's. He leaned forward with his elbows on his knees. "But he wants it real bad."

"He doesn't know what he wants." The voice was muffled through the mask.

"Yes he does. That's the one secret you never let on...this stuff is fun."

"It's also deadly."

"It's not like I'd let him patrol alone."

The fire crackled in the silence. Stretched out in front of it, Ace whined softly in his sleep, his muzzle resting on his paws. The only other sound was Bruce's harsh struggle to breathe. Terry kept his eyes down on his shoes so he wouldn't have to witness it.

"Are you forgetting about Tim?"

What it cost the old man to say that weighed on every word.

"No." Terry looked up at Bruce.

"You do this, you do it without my blessing."

"C'mon, Bruce. I could really use your guidance." Terry stood and folded his arms, staring into the fire. "I know the risks. I deflected him for years. But for some reason, he needs it. The way I did. I wish I knew why, he's always been a cheerful kid. But whatever, if he's going to do it, I want to keep him alive. I don't want to screw this up. Help me."

"No."

It was final, with a solid, almost metallic ring to it.

So even the reconciliation with Tim hadn't made it easier for him. Didn't matter than Tim had spent hours at Bruce's dinner table, a few times staying to talk until after midnight. Didn't matter that Tim's wife came too, bringing laughter into the house again.

"Fine, old man." Terry turned around and started to walk away. "Because alone is always the best way to do it, right?"

"You have Batgirl."

He was halfway to the clock when he halted cold. "Yes. But it's a big city. You already had a Robin when you got a Batgirl."

Bruce kept his face stubbornly towards the fire, silent.

Finally Terry gave up. He opened the clock and descended into the cool darkness of the cave where Matt was waiting.

She met him at the diner, their usual place.

"I don't know, Terry." Barbara rotated her coffee mug, smearing the ring of moisture on the lucite.

Rain streaked down the plate glass windows. The neon sign reflected off the damp pavement, turning it to streaks of green and red.

"Are you going to nay-say me too? You should have heard Bruce on the subject." Terry added more ketchup to his fries.

"You can't expect him to be happy about it."

"I don't." Some ketchup dribbled onto the table. Terry wiped it up with a napkin. "What do you think?"

"I think I agree with you. Matt needs to do this." She shot Terry a sharp look over the top of her glasses but he couldn't read what she meant by it. "I think you'll protect him out there as best you can. I think he's a smart, capable boy who will make mistakes but not deadly ones. I think none of that matters. In the end what matters is fate. Chance. That one possibility. The question is, are you ready for that possibility?"

Terry put down the french fry he was about to eat and stared out the window as the cars hovered past in the rain. He felt his own face harden into what he always thought of as a Batman Look. Bruce did it a lot. Barbara did it sometimes.

"That possibility is not an option," said Terry.

Barbara turned her coffee mug again. "You can't control everything. Certainly not a bullet that's a split second too fast when Matt's a split second too slow. What happened to Tim wasn't because Tim wasn't very, very good at this. Because he was."

"I know. I just wish I had someone to talk to about the training. Bruce of course won't. Maybe you...?" He trailed off hopefully.

"No. I was already close to adulthood when I started."

"But he trained you."

"Yes. But it's different for a Robin. A Robin will be like an extension of your own arm. A human batarang. It's not that he pulled any punches training me, but watching him train Tim...it's just different. I'm not sure I understand it completely."

She took another sip of coffee before continuing.

"It was never life or death for me. My world didn't hinge on his approval or disapproval. If he'd told me I stank and never to do it again, I would have found a way to do it on my own, or found another partner not connected to Batman." She patted his arm where it rested on the table. "You and Matt have a good rapport. I'm sure you'll manage fine."

While Max patrolled the city, they trained.

"Don't let him boss you too much," Max sniped over the comm before she signed off.

The computers hummed and occasionally clicked or beeped, as if having a conversation in a language all their own, which Terry guessed they were. Ace sat with his haunches folded under him in a sphinx-like posture. There was white on his muzzle these days, although he seemed as alert as ever.

Terry held out a strip of cloth. His little brother frowned.

"What's that?"

"You're going to do the run blindfolded."

"You're kidding!"

"Do I look like I'm kidding?"

Matt sighed, rolled his eyes, and took the cloth. He tied it around his head. "When do I get to go on patrol with you and Max?"

"Not until you can do up to level ten blindfolded, upside down and on one leg without getting hit."

"Okay."

"Twelve times in a row," Terry added, and grinned.

"Hey, no problem!"

In the last eight weeks, except for the occasional sigh, Matt had given up on the whining. He'd always been a good, if not brilliant, student, but now his teachers sent home report disks raving about Matt's new focus and drive. He was becoming a leader.

"Good. I'm proud of you, twip."

Praise doesn't hurt. Too little he'll get resentful. Too much and he'll get overconfident. Especially if he's already got a big ego.

Terry still wasn't sure where the drive came from, why Matt didn't mind skipping after-school hanging out with his friends, training for hours into the evening, staying up until one a.m. to get his homework done. Matt had grieved for their father openly, with quick tears, holding tight to Mom until he got distracted by school, vids, friends, milkshakes, and hoverboards again. The wound for Matt had been clean. Also, he'd been living with Mom at the time and was closer to her anyway.

But maybe it had festered after all, and now he felt a delayed need for justice, a drive to make sure it didn't happen to some other kid's dad.

"So what's this all about, Terry? Have a seat."

Terry sat in Tim Drake's living room, feeling horribly guilty. Mr. Drake looked so relaxed, leaning back with an iced tea in one hand, one foot propped on the coffee table. The concern in his voice was all for Terry.

He felt like a coward for not warning Mr. Drake on the phone, for letting him think Terry was having a problem and seeking advice. Actually, Terry was having a problem and seeking advice, but he wouldn't seek it from Drake.

But he felt the man was owed an advance warning

"I'm..." Terry cleared his throat.

"You want some iced tea?"

"No, that's okay. There's something I have to tell you. I'm training Matt."

In the quiet that fell, ice clinked against glass, glass against wood as Drake put his drink down.

"To be Robin."

"Yes."

Drake rubbed his forehead with two fingers. "I see. " He lowered his hand. "Terry..."

"I know this must be hard for you. I almost refused just for your sake but Matt..."

A sad, closed-mouthed smile flickered to Drake's mouth. "He wants it bad, right?"

"Yeah."

"Didn't we all." A sigh escaped him. "Thank you for telling me first, before I saw him on the evening news in scarlet and green."

"We've got a long way to go before that happens. And he's talking about wearing black."

"What did Bruce say?"

"He's against it."

"Of course he is. Look, Terry, I appreciate you telling me. I won't lie and say I think it's a good idea. But it's not a good idea to deny your brother this either. In fact--" Drake's eyes went someplace far away. "Denying it to him might be the worst thing you could do."

The lasers hit a blindfolded Matt yet again on his twelfth run through level one.

"Dammit!" Matt yanked the blindfold off, clutching his side with one arm. His other fist slammed into the nearest inanimate object it could find, the metal side of a cart of lab equipment. The blow of fist to metal thudded hollowly in the cave.

"You okay?"

"No, I'm not okay, it stings."

"It's supposed to," Terry said calmly. "Take a few minutes. Go get some water."

You'll have to teach him to keep a tight hold on his temper. Losing your cool out in the field can get you hurt. Control is what's needed.

Terry sat in the big chair in front of the main computer terminal, pretending that he didn't glance sideways to watch Matt, who sat down next to Ace. Matt gulped water from a sports bottle, his hand resting on the dog's head.

Having the dog sit it on the training sessions was probably the most brilliant idea Terry had ever had. Ace had always had a calming effect on him, and his presence seemed to comfort Matt as well.

Terry caught the dog's glance, and for a moment thought he saw faint disapproval, directed at him.

"I'm ready." Matt tossed the bottle aside. He gracefully untangled his legs and bounced to his feet. "Let's do it again."

Ace whuffled deep in his throat. This time it was unmistakably approving.

"There's someone you should talk to." Barbara Gordon looked at him from the vid window, her white hair neatly in order, her eyes behind her glasses alert even at this absurd hour of the morning.

Terry yawned and rubbed his hand over his face. The call had come at seven a.m. After training Matt last night, he'd gone out on patrol with Max.

Oh well. He'd managed on four hours of sleep before, and he'd do it many times over again.

"Who?"

"I'm uploading you the contact info. I've told him to expect your call. Have to run, Terry. Bye."

Her screen image blipped out.

Terry checked the list of contacts and saw the new name listed at the top.

Oh.

He pressed a key and the computer dialed.

"Grayson here," the voice was off-hand, relaxed, the face friendly, black hair peppered with gray. Then he recognized the caller. "Uh, hey," he added, now sounding a bit less self-assured. "It's you. Barb said you might call. Terry, right?"

"Hello, Mr. Grayson."

They'd only spoken once or twice before, and hadn't really talked. Terry hadn't met him in person yet. He'd never come to Wayne Manor.

"Eh, call me Dick. So I hear you're taking on a sidekick."

"My little brother, Matt."

"Oh, man." Dick rubbed his fingers through his hair.

"Barbara said you could probably help me. Offer me some advice."

"It's tough when it's your own blood. I trained several of mine, but finally had to stop. Just hurt too much after a while."

"But isn't it better to do it yourself? Then you're sure. If anything happens to Matt, it's my responsibility. I wouldn't trust anyone else to do it."

"Yeah but here's the thing...okay. So what do you do the first time--and if you're lucky, he'll survive to have it happen again--the first time some baddie puts a knife to his throat to gain control over you?"

Terry felt his throat go dry.

"What about the first time he gets injured and he did it trying to help you?"

"Matt and I talked about that. We both understand the risks."

"How much do you think he wants to do this?"

"He needs to. It took me a while to see it, but he does."

"Have you asked him why?"

"Not point-black. I assumed it's because of our father. It's why I got started, in part."

"Do yourself a favor? As soon as you get a chance, ask him why, the real reason why, he needs to do this so bad. The answer might surprise you."

"Anything else?"

Grayson cracked a grin. It made him look forty years younger. "Oh, I haven't even started. First of all, resist the temptation to go too easy on him..."

"Matt. Matt!"

His brother finally heard him and stopped, poised with his leg out to deliver a round-house kick. He was in sweatpants and undershirt, barefoot, surrounded by an array of practice dummies. The cave was chilly, but sweat stained Matt's shirt.

Matt lowered his leg and stood still while Terry came down the cave steps.

"You twip, Mom's been worried sick. Next time you tell someone where you're going to be, got it?" He gave Matt a light shove between his shoulder blades.

Matt stumbled, then caught himself. "Sorry."

"What are you doing here, anyway?"

"Practicing."

"I can see that. It's Saturday night. Shouldn't you be out with your friends?"

"I need to get better."

"You're doing pretty well."

"Really?" Matt's face brightened so much it was like another light had gone on in the cave.

Terry remembered what Dick Grayson had said.

"Why do you want to be Robin?"

They stood facing each other, the faceless practice dummies silent witnesses around them.

"What?"

"Is it because of what happened to Dad?"

"That's part of it." Matt wiped his forehead with the sleeve of his t-shirt.

"But that's not the only reason?"

"No."

"So what is it? You can tell me. You want to help people? Are you bored?"

"It's those things too, sort of." Matt frowned.

"Okay, kid, give. You can't hold out on me. Not if this is going to work."

"Um..." Matt reached out and poked a practice dummy, making it sway a little. "It's because of you," he mumbled.

"Me?"

"You limp sometimes." His voice went a bit scratchy. Matt cleared his throat and swallowed. "I've seen you do it."

"But that's just part of the..."

"Ever since I found out about what you do, I've wondered, what if you don't come back home one night? What would that do to Mom? I still miss Dad. What if you went away for good too? So I thought if you trained me as your sidekick, I could watch your back. Keep you alive."

There was a funny ache in Terry's chest. He thought of the man asleep upstairs, wondered whether the orphans he'd trained had been afraid of him never coming home again.

"I've got Max looking out for me," Terry said. "I'm not saying you don't have to worry, but if something's going to happen, it's going to happen. If anything, I'm the one who's going to worry myself into gray hairs over you, if you're out there with me."

"You don't want me to do it?"

"I didn't say that. I just wanted to let you know you don't have to do it just to watch over me."

"You got the guy who killed Dad. Everything Batman is...I want to be part of that." Matt looked down at his sneakers. Then, surprisingly, right at Terry. "If you'll let me."

"I'll let you. But you're not going out on the streets until I say so, understood?"

"Understood."

Terry waited while Matt gathered up his gym bag. As he did so, he made a mental note to call Grayson again, and ask him what to do the first time Matt disobeyed orders.

Because it would so happen, and if they were lucky, it would happen more than once.

~end~