Richard Grayson sat on his chair, flipping through a magazine, bored out of his mind. Off in the distance, the batsignal turned off after its ten minute showing.
At that moment, the room tensed.
"What do YOU want?" he asked lowly.
"The Joker's escaped and rumors have it he's planning something big," the Batman replied, his eyes and outline only visable in the shadows of Dick's loft.
"Good for you. Go away," Dick replied, not bothering to look from his magazine.
"I need backup," Batman said.
"Where's your beloved son?" Dick asked, turning a page.
"In Metropolis. Him and Batgirl are helping Superman and Supergirl stop an war between Metropolis and Atlantis. They asked for them specifically... Said that I couldn't handle the job appropriately."
Dick glowered at how Batman handled his comment "Your beloved son". He stood and turned.
"You can handle things JUST fine."
"Dick--"
"Get OUT!!" Dick yelled, gesturing to the window.
"I can't do this alone. Now, get in your--"
"You don't own me ANYMORE!!!" Dick yelled. "You've escaped death MANY times before and you'll do it AGAIN!! Now GET OUT before I call the cops on you!"
Batman narrowed his eyes, then ran out the window.
Dick jumped awake at the ringing of his phone three hours later. He crawled off the bed not-so-gracefully and grabbed the phone.
"Helloooo?" he asked, grinning.
"Dick!" Barbara said.
He perked up and smiled largely at her voice.
"Hey, Babina. Sup?"
"Nothing much. Called the Manor. Alfred said you had another clash with Batman and I was worried about your mentality rate... What happed?"
Dick smirked and rolled his eyes.
"Heh, he wanted me to help *him* to bust the Joker."
"And you, being on that high horse of yours, said no..."
"Hey! He's a big boy."
Batman crescent kicked Lar in the head and shoved him back into Mo and they crashed into some crates. He then recieved a powerful blow with a wrench in the back from Harley Quinn.
"He can take care of himself," Dick insisted, now in his kitchen area in a blue, open robe.
"What happens if someone gets lucky?"
"Yeah. Right."
Batman ducked acid from the Joker's jacket pocket flower and hit him with a back fist. He then ran for Mo and Cur as they opened Tommy gun fire on him.
"One thing I've learned. Bruce is a surviver and always has been... How many times can you honestly say he's been mortally wounded?"
"Uh..."
"See?"
Batman gasped as he lost his footing on the cieling beams he was on do to slime thrown up there by Harley. He fell hard into a catwalk that hung above a vat of non-toxic chemicals. With a wicked laugh and smile, the Joker grabbed a Tommy gun and fired.
Two Hours Later:
"Hang on, Babs," Dick said. "Got another call."
"Okay."
He hit the flash button on his cordless.
"Dicky Dick the Chick Flick Grayson here. How, or should I say to whom should I be helping and how much will I get paid?" he answered.
"Master Dick!" Alfred said, troubled.
"Yeah?" he asked, sitting up at the panicked tone.
"He-He couldn't... he didn't..."
"Alfred! Calm down! Slowly, tell me what happened..."
"Fifty-seven bullets! FIFTY seven tommy gun bullets! He slipped from the beam!"
"I'll be right there! Call Barbara at Clark's!!"
Dick ran into the hospital room Bruce was in slowly. Alfred stood from his place by Bruce's side.
"They believe it to be a drive by shooting... At the manor. I was awaiting your arrival so I can frame everything at there to make it believable..."
"The Joker--" Dick started.
"In a coma. Though shot, he was still able to fight him off long enough to throw him from the catwalk. The others didn't see... He got to the car somehow and autopiloted home... Before..."
Dick sighed, patting his shoulder.
"Thank you, Old Friend."
"I'll leave you now, Sir."
Alfred left. Dick walked over and took Bruce's hand. His torso was a massive bandage, he had an oxygen mask on and blood pumping in him. Dick's eyes flooded. It was then he realized what he did to Bruce.
"God, I'm so sorry."
It felt as though he had been just knocked off that high horse Barbara was talking about. He looked at the hand he held in his, then pressed it to his cheek, closing his eyes.
"I was so concerned about being caught up as your sidekick again... I had no idea this could happen... Not to you... Not to the Batman..."
It was true. Who would have thought that the mighty could fall instantly at the end of a tommy gun?
Dick choked and gasped, trying to speak.
Why couldn't he say the words he should have for the last 14 years? Why was it so hard? This was the man... The ONLY man who had wanted him the night his parents were killed. It was so hard for him to admit his feelings anymore. He didn't want people to know he HAD feelings.
Dick stiffened at this thought.
"Oh no..." he whispered.
He'd become Bruce and the Batman. Unable and unwilling to show his feelings. He was now exactly how his patron had planned him to be (or so he thought).
Until now.
He let this man down. He never knew it could happen. It was his fault. He was going to have this on his shoulders forever.
Whether on this night Bruce lived or died... Or on any night.
"I'm SO sorry," he repeated above his streaming tears, shaking from emotional agony.
He felt as though this was his fault. Like he pulled the trigger on the only person who ever gave him a chance... Who ever understood him...
If Bruce died before Dick said it, he would die as well. And he knew it too.
He took in a deep breath. Looking to the left where the door was to make sure it was shut then searching the room for any visitors in the shadows, a common practice among their type. After everything checked out, Dick stood and stared down at Bruce.
"I love you, Father of mine."
With a sonly kiss to Bruce's forehead, Dick exited slowly.
Father of Mine