Happy Birthday, Son
I learned a bit about writing since I originally wrote this, so I thought I'd go back and correct a lot of mistakes. Also made plot changes while I was at it. I hope it works.
This was done specifically for the Heroes Forum and RPG site, and their March contest.
For some reason that first link seemed awfully long. Here it is if the link doesn't work. http://www.phpbb88.com/dcu/viewforum.php?f=36&sid=a2140c820086d151d603baaf2c9efc77&mforum=dcu
Please forgive the wonky lines in this post. I have NO idea how to get rid of them. :-(
NOTES: The letter from Dick is taken, verbatim, from Gotham Knights #14, as well as his expressed feelings for Bruce. This story was written in the timeline of Gotham Knights 14 and 17 and there are spoilers.
Disclaimer: Without Prejudice. The names of all characters contained here-in are not mine. No Infringements of these copyrights are intended, and are used here without permission.
Dear Batman,
‘Okay, I admit that always looked weird on the Christmas cards, but I have to tell you, sometimes it felt even weirder writing ‘Dear Bruce’. Sometimes I wonder what you call me in your head. When you think about me, I mean. If you think about me. Reading those files of yours...I guess it was the first time I was ever sure that you sometimes wondered the same kind of things. And I don't want you to wonder about me. I want you to be sure.
Thing is, I don't know how to reassure you in words. I mean, there are no words. What am I, Bruce? Your son? Your trainee? Your soldier? Your sidekick? Your ward? "Ward". I hate that word. It stopped having any meaning the minute I turned eighteen, and I was afraid I would, too. Stop having meaning, I mean, for you. So, in the absence of binding words, I try to show you who I am in action. And I find I can't stop moving.
Sometimes it's because I feel like I have to keep up with you, and sometimes it's because I feel I have to keep ahead of the others. You don't know what it's about either, do you? All the people around you?
Sometimes I think they just gather of their own accord. Pulled by the same magnetism and mission that keeps me in orbit, and I'm so grateful for them--so glad not to be alone out here--that I don't give it a second thought.
But, other times, Batman, Bruce, no, Batman--other times, Batman, I think you deliberately called them to your side...and I can't believe you'd have the gall. You eventually heard me out on the issue, but I don't think you ever really got how much it hurt me when you chose Azrael to stand in for you instead of me. The only thing I hate more than wearing that cape and cowl and imagining a world without you in it...is watching someone else do it.
I know you have your reasons for everything you do, and I know you don't always think I believe that. I do believe that. I'm not ever worried that you haven't thought things through. I'm just sometimes worried that I don't factor into your thinking. Or that if I do, you're worrying that I can't take care of myself. It occurred to me for the first time today, that maybe it's not about that. Maybe you're worrying that you can't take care of me.
You're not an easy man to be close to, Bruce. As much as you may care about any of us, any of this, I know you'd trade it all in a heartbeat if you could have your parents back. And I've never really admitted this to anyone, but I don't think I would. Trade, I mean. And I don't think I'm ready to see your face if I told you that. Which is why I'm never gonna send this letter.
I miss my parents with my whole heart, Batman, I do. But I wouldn't trade this for the world.
Love, Dick.’
Bruce sat in Dick’s apartment and read the letter he’d found on Dick’s computer, the words--Dick’s words--echoing in his mind. He checked the date and realized it was written almost a year ago to the day. Dick’s birthday. Bruce had always thought Dick’s date of birth fit him perfectly. Springtime--a time when things dormant became alive again. Dick had always been so full of life, and it was that zeal for life that had saved Bruce from his personal darkness. And yet Dick was still unsure how Bruce felt about him. And Bruce had no one to blame but himself.
"He doesn't know," he whispered, rubbing the exposed portion of his cowled face.
It shouldn’t have surprised Bruce that Dick felt this way, but it did. Dick had always factored into everything Bruce did--he just assumed Dick knew that. Assumed Dick knew how important he was to him.
Bruce’s mind raced back to the day he’d given Dick the adoption papers--making Dick his heir…his son. Bruce had tried to tell him how he felt--had wanted to say the words that he’d known were important for Dick to hear--but it’d been too long since he’d uttered them. And he was afraid. Afraid that giving voice to those seemingly harmless words would somehow turn the world against him. Just like it had the last time he’d said them when he was eight years old. Nothing had been the same since.
Dick had seemed to understand, saved Bruce from his feeble attempt to voice his feelings. "I get it. And I love you, too."
Dick never had a problem with those words, and Bruce was proud of him for that. Proud that Dick hadn’t turned out like him.
Bruce shut the lid down on the laptop and hit the table with his fist. "I should have told him."
He activated the transmitter hidden in the ear of his cowl. "Oracle. anything?" His gut was twisted inside, but his voice was steady.
"Nothing. What about you?” Barbara had retraced Dick’s steps from the time he seemed to have disappeared without a trace.
"There’s nothing out of the ordinary here." He stood. "Bruce Wayne will call Dick Grayson’s Captain to establish a timeline of his activities. That might give us some direction." The Bludhaven Police Department was notorious for being corrupt and unhelpful. But Bruce felt that the persuasive powers of Gotham's billionaire CEO would make them more than willing to cooperate.
"B, you’ll find Dick. I know you will." Her confidence unsettled him, and if truth be told, if he took the time to dwell on the fact that it was Dick who was missing, and accept the comfort Barbara tried to offer, fear would paralyze his every movement. His every thought.
"I’ll keep you posted. Batman out." He pushed his feelings aside, something he’d been able to do without preamble--something he regretted being so damn good at after reading Dick’s letter--and moved to the address book sitting atop the desk, thumbing through it to find BPD’s phone number. But before he could dial the number, the phone rang.
“Hello.” Bruce Wayne's presence in Dick's apartment would be above suspicion. He was Dick’s father, after all.
"We've got Nightwing," the mechanized voice on the line said, and Bruce realized that their identities had been breached. He said ‘Nightwing’--we’ve got Nightwing--and called Dick’s apartment. A list of names flashed quickly through his mind--names of those who knew their true identities. In the seconds it took for the caller to continue, Bruce was mentally analyzing the list, determining a motive and putting a face to fit the crime.
"If you want to see him again, stay put. You'll get another call in one hour." The caller hung up.
Bruce frowned. A voice synthesizer was used. There was a familiar syntax, however, that caught his attention. And the abnormal pacing of words, the stifled laughter, meant only one thing.
Suddenly the relief he felt was so thick he could almost taste it, and he wondered if he was just getting old that he would allow himself to feel this frightened in the first place. Afraid that history would have repeated itself and taken his world from him--just like it had with his parents.
"Oracle."
"Here, B. Find anything?"
"When were you going to tell me that Roy had Dick?"
Barbara laughed. “You weren’t supposed to figure it out this quickly."
"It wasn’t difficult. It’s Roy after all."
"Well, I don’t think they’re ready for your appearance just yet. They wanted to surprise Dick for his birthday."
"What’s the location?"
"They’re at Titan headquarters." She paused. "And, B?"
"Yes."
"Be nice. Your appearance would mean a lot to Dick, ya know?"
He paused, thought about Dick’s letter. "Yes, I know. Batman out."
**
Blindfolded, Dick was led into a room he instantly recognized by its aura. That and the unmistakable smell that he’d become accustomed to in his year’s as the Titan’s leader. Some things you never forgot.
"Surprise!" Dick’s friends shouted.
"Happy birthday, dude," Roy said, handing Dick a beer.
Donna leaned in and kissed his cheek. "Happy Birthday, hon. Were you surprised?"
Wally slapped Dick’s back, and Dick nearly choked on the pull he’d taken from his beer. "We gotcha, didn't we? Admit it, you were surprised."
"Very.” Dick wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and looked around the room. “I can’t believe you guys went to all this trouble.”
"Wait right there...I gotta make a call," Roy said, patting Dick’s arm, then placed a finger over his lips. “It’s about your present."
At the look in Roy’s eye, Dick was suddenly leery. "What present would that be, Roy?"
"Dude, you don't even want to know.” Wally looked…scared.
"Roy, what have you done?"
"He had Oracle tell me you were missing." Bruce stepped out from the shadows.
Wally and Donna took a step backwards, distancing themselves from Roy.
Roy placed an arm around Bruce’s shoulders and shrugged, looking at Dick. “I knew it would mean a lot to you to have him here and this was the only way I could think of to do it."
Bruce looked at Roy’s arm, then at Roy, and Dick shivered. He’d been the recipient of this particular glare Bruce was giving, and he was glad he wasn’t in Roy’s shoes right now. And from the look on Roy’s face, Dick didn’t think Roy wanted to be in his own shoes right now, either. Dick wondered if Roy would ever learn to think things through to their logical conclusion because he couldn’t have thought that Bruce would be happy about being tricked.
"Really. You didn’t think to just ask?" Bruce’s voice was low and he actually growled. Dick couldn’t help but grin, could see that Bruce was laying it on thick, trying to intimidate Roy. It was working, too.
“Well, enjoy the party.” Roy removed his hand from Bruce’s shoulder and quickly walked away, obviously smarter than he looked at the moment.
Bruce turned to Dick and the intensity of Bruce’s gaze was unsettling. It wasn’t a look he’d seen much in Bruce, but it had always accompanied something Bruce had a hard time dealing with--emotional stuff, mainly.
Donna must have noticed it, too. "Wally, I think they want to be alone."
"Duh! You think?"
Donna gave a playful tap to the back of his head. "Let’s go find Roy. I think he could probably use some emotional support by now.”
“Do you think he’ll ever learn?”
“Do you ever learn?”
“Point taken.”
“I should hope so.”
When Bruce said nothing, Dick became anxious, never patient with silent pauses in any conversation. "Sorry about Roy. I didn’t know about any of this."
"I know. I received his call while searching your apartment. It was enlightening."
"The call or my apartment?"
"Both." Bruce reached within his cape and pulled out an envelope. He looked down at it with what looked like apprehension, then held it out to Dick.
"What’s this?"
"Your present." Bruce looked down, the muscles in his jaw tightening. Only someone who really knew Bruce, and that list was small, could see the change in his expression--the emotions it represented.
Dick studied the envelope, the words in Bruce’s hand, jumping out at him. ‘Happy Birthday, Son’.
Son.
This must be serious. Dick turned the envelope over to open when a gloved hand grabbed his wrist, stopping him.
"Later.”
Dick nodded, knowing how private Bruce could be.
"Alfred expects you at the Manor for dinner.”
"I’ll be there."
Bruce gave a slight nod, and Dick could see him struggle with something he evidently wanted to say. Dick wondered if he was having trouble saying happy birthday. Not a big emotional event, but with Bruce, you never knew.
"I look forward to seeing you there." Bruce’s voice was low, soft.
Dick could feel his mouth as it dropped open. "Thanks. Dad."
Bruce’s lips spread in a thin smile. He nodded slightly and then left. But not before glaring across the room at a certain archer, who lifted his hands in a ”What did I do?” gesture, then smiled. It was a particularly wicked smile, and Dick shook his head, wondering, not for the first time tonight, if Roy would ever learn. Payback was a definite bitch with Bruce. And it was inevitable. Dick made a mental note to steer clear of Roy for the not to distant future. He didn’t want to be in the middle of anything Bruce might be planning in retaliation.
Dick looked down at the envelope and slipped away to a secluded corner of the room. He opened it quickly, curiosity getting the better of him, or maybe it was hope. He wasn’t sure he wanted it to be the latter. It would be less painful if he were disappointed.
He took a breath and began to read.
Dear Son,
It seems strange to see myself write that word, but that’s what you--in every sense of the word. And as you are aware, words never come easy for me, even as I write this letter. Especially three words I had hoped I expressed through my actions. But I now know that my actions aren’t always clear, certainly not as clear as the words you've expressed to me.
I read your letter. Retrieved it from your computer's recycle bin when I thought you were in trouble. A letter you never intended to send, yet one that I am somehow grateful to have read. I know this letter will fall short in expressing my feelings--I know I will fall short. But know this, I could not live in a world without you in it. No matter what. I only wish that I could give you the reassurance you crave in person. I don't know if I am able to do that, but I will try.
Your father,
Bruce
Dick smiled through his tears. "Thank you, dad. It’s the best present I’ll ever get."
The end.