Autobiography

Chapter 3

There was a break for a few weeks before I could get some time to talk with Clark again about this book/journal thing he’s writing about me. He was busy, I was busy—nothing major or world shaking but stuff got in the way of us getting together. The following took place about a month after the last section.

Clark Kent: ‘Glad you could make it today. You’re a busy young man.

Nightwing: Sometimes. Where do you want to start?

CK: I had just asked you about a falling out you seemed have had with Batman when you were in your late teens; how about we pick it up there? Oh, great…

NW: Sure, whatever. It was a combination of a few things, I was getting older and I wasn’t quite as willing to put up and shut up. That was a large part of it; it wasn’t so much teenaged rebellion or anything that simple so much as my being to the point of believing that I could function effectively on my own and him not accepting that. Talk about an understatement…Loose translation; I wanted more freedom and responsibility, was obnoxious and he was rigid and unrelenting.

CK: Care to elaborate?

NW: I was seventeen, eighteen and had been working as a vigilante for almost ten years, I’d helped found and led the Titans, worked with just about every recognized hero on the planet and he still was stuck at the point of expecting me to follow a curfew. It was getting to be untenable—for me, anyway. I was frustrated and, to be fair, I assume he was as well. Oh yeah, big time. I think our shouting matches shoot dust loose in the Manor that had been there for a century. It came close to blows a few times but we never actually connected worth mentioning. I’m not sure who would have won that one. He’s stronger than I am, of course, but I was pretty pissed.

CK: Were all the problems professional?

NW: No. Not even close.

CK: Meaning?

NW: Things at the house would get—difficult. He was insisting that I go to college and I wasn’t convinced it was what I wanted. I finally ended up going simply because I didn’t want to disappoint him—I felt I owed him for everything he’d done for me and so I went along with that. Besides, it might have worked out; I was willing to take a shot at it, anyway. Then, like I said, he hadn’t realized that I wasn’t your standard high school senior. He expected me to toe the standard finish high school/ go to college/get a MBA route and that just wasn’t going to happen.

CK: I’ve never thought there was anything standard about you, but, aside from the obvious. How did the break happen, did you two have words? Yeah, Clark. Daily. Good times, oh yeah.

NW: I’d been working, getting a paycheck since I was three years old and so was obviously capable of supporting myself. I had contacts, job offers, plenty of stuff I could do and I flat out wasn’t sure that I wanted to fit into a mold he seemed to have planned out for me. If one of main reasons to go to college is to ‘grow up’, establish contacts, find your way, learn to function on your own out in the world and all of that—c’mon, I was there when I was eleven. I didn’t see the point of my going, still don’t. Look, I know that sounds like adolescent angst, but I’m not and frankly have never been a ‘normal’ kid. I was ready to make my own decisions and run my own life and he didn’t get that. Okay, I didn’t ever come out and say any of this to him, either, so I suppose I expected him to read my mind but the truth is that I really wasn’t your standard issue teenager and I still think he was wrong to treat me like one. I don’t have anything against college per se—of course not—but it just wasn’t for me.

CK: What happened?

NW: I ended up going to a college he’d pretty much picked out and lasted one semester. I knew it wasn’t the right thing for me and so I quit. I tried college again a couple of years late but it still just wasn’t for me. That was part of the problem between us—him not understanding that I wasn’t the same kid I was when we were the ‘dynamic duo’—or who he was when he was at that age. I’d outgrown a lot of our relationship and it wasn’t changing to accommodate that fact. He thought status quo was working just fine, if he thought about it at all. I know that I hurt him with all that rebellion—that’s what it was, I admit it—and I feel badly about that but I still think that he needed to accept that I wasn’t twelve anymore. Besides, there was this gut feeling I had that since no one in my family had gone to college and had done just fine, I could do okay without it, too. I don’t know—maybe I was embracing my blue-collar heritage a little too much. Maybe I was just rejecting the whole society, CEO, bigger, better, more, ‘aren’t I special’ crap that I saw way the hell too much of growing up in Wayne Manor. It wasn’t Bruce so much but—damn—it sure as hell was thick in the schools I went to and every party or dinner or charity auction I had to attend. It rubbed me wrong then and it rubs me wrong now.

CK: What caused the break? I mean specifically. Was there a final straw?

NW: One night—I was nineteen and had already dropped out of the first college and gone back to live at the Manor for a while—there was a report that the Joker was out. I was home with a cold but I wasn’t that sick and started to get ready to go out. Batman insisted that I sit the evening out but I went anyway and ended up getting hurt pretty badly. He—Batman—flipped out and said he couldn’t be responsible for my getting injured and basically fired me, told me that he owned the character or Robin and he was withdrawing my right to use it. All of which was stupid on several levels. I’d been in harm’s way since I’d taken up the Robin cape at nine—it was ridiculous that he was suddenly going all parental on me and I refused delivery on that one. Then there’s the fact that I’d been hurt a lot worse more times than I can count—it made no sense for him to get protective at that belated point and I still don’t completely understand it. Then, when he dropped the bomb I remember telling him that he could basically take Robin and shove it and I’d do fine without him. That was when I invented Nightwing and made sure Bruce knew I’d taken the name from one of Kal’s Kryptonian legends—I really do like the legend and the name but mostly it was a way to stick it to Bruce.

CK: Seriously? But wait, I remember that. One of GBS’s news helicopters saw what was happening and filmed it. You were on a rooftop in Gotham, it was raining and you ended up being shot by Joker and then fell a few stories and landed on a ledge. Is that what you’re talking about?

NW: That was it. They kept repaying it on the news over and over again which added fuel to a pretty big fire every time it came on again. Bruce was seeing red.

CK: How badly were you hurt, I mean really.

NW: Not that bad, all in all. The bullet went through my shoulder without causing any permanent damage and I broke a couple ribs in the fall. I healed up all right. Physically, anyway.

CK: But he fired you to get you out of danger.

NW: Yeah, that’s what he said. I was upset, angry, hurt—you name it. Still am when I think about it. I know Bruce was, in his screwed up way, trying to protect me but-crap. There are ways to do things and ways not to do them, y’know?

CK: So what happened next?

NW: I left. I packed a bag and left the front door key on the hall table. I felt like I was being orphaned for the second time. God, it still hurts. I understand why he did it but I don’t think it would have been possible to hurt me more. I finally realized that was probably his point—making sure I wouldn’t come back, making sure it was final. For my own good, of course…

CK: Where did you go?

NW: Titan’s Tower for a while. I spent a lot of time feeling sorry for myself then Donna and Roy sat me down one day and basically told me to cut the crap and get my shit together. I realized they were right, sucked it up and invented Nightwing. Also known as ‘fuck you, Bruce’.

CK: How long did it take for you and Batman to repair your relationship? Is it repaired?

NW: It’s better. It took a long time, years and there was other stuff that went down—basically us tying to hurt one another in a sort of vicious circle but we finally started to come to terms. He began to accept me as an adult and I started to see him as a good but flawed man. I had him so far up on a pedestal for so long that he had a long was to fall—I thought for a long time that he could do no wrong so…it took a long time. In fact, I’m still working on it. He canned me then took in Jason—Christ. Jason. Jason gets killed and so, instead of admitting that he made a mistake in bringing in some no-talent street kid with an attitude he accepts Tim as his new chum. Tim’s okay but if Bruce was afraid of putting me in danger after a decade of training and experience how the hell does he justify bringing in other kids with less ability/raining/dedication than me? It didn’t make sense then and it doesn’t make sense now and, yes, I take it personally.

CK: Can you two work together now or is there still friction?

NW: We work together sometimes. We’re professionals. Besides, he’s almost admitted that I’m okay at the job and has even, rarely, gone so far as to compliment me. It’s rare but that’s new. I’m not saying I could or would want to become his partner again, but it’s still nice to see. The problem is that I’m still waiting for the other shoe to drop—he pulled the rug out from under me once. I don’t trust him not to do it again if something happened. I think that’s what’s so hard about this whole mess; he’s as close to a father figure as I have. Hell, after my parents died he was my father in every real sense of the word, barring the fact that we don’t share any DNA. But he was never really my father—he was a mentor, tutor, guardian in both the ‘he takes care of me’ and ‘he watches my back because I’m Robin to his Batman’ ways—but he was never nurturing. Alfred filled that void. He was never the kind to ask about how I was getting along in school, other than to bitch at me if I didn’t make the honor roll. He sure as hell never thought about things like birthdays or play dates or catching a movie together on a rainy day. But…he was as close to a father as I had for a long time. And we shared a very real sense of belonging and love. I know the word makes him uncomfortable, but it’s true. He saved my life in every way it’s possible to save someone’s life after the murders shattered mine. He gave me a place to live and, more importantly, a reason. He gave me food and food for thought. He made sure that I was strong both physically and mentally. I know Clark and I talked about this last time, but he even gave me his name and that’s something he’s never done for anyone else, at least not yet.

CK: Is there anyone you credit with, I don’t know quite how to phrase this but, is there anyone other than Batman you’d credit with guiding you, shaping your life; I mean aside from your parents, that is.

NW: Alfred. He was the main one, He was the one who grounded me, bandaged my skinned knees, comforted me after a nightmare, made sure I had clean clothes that fit, saw to it that I ate good food, taught me to be polite and have good manners. Beyond all that stuff, though, he’s the one who would listen to me after school or find out if something was bothering me, all that sort of thing. Sometimes I used to think of Bruce and Alfred as good cop/bad cop. You need both of them but Alfred, without him I don’t think I would have made it. I really don’t and I think—I know—that he knows it. And you, Clark—you helped shape me. You may not believe that because you’re who you are, but it’s true. I saw Batman every day, you were…you were—amazing and you still are. Every time I see you, talk to you, you amaze me a little more. I took the name Nightwing partly to pissed off Bruce but I took it to honor you, too. I can’t count how many times you were the best part of my day.

TBC

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