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Part 4

 

Five years ago, Dick is eighteen

“D?”

 

* * *
 

“U there?”

 

* * *
 

“D” U ok?”

 

* * *
 

“D?”

 

* * *
 

Lisa was getting frustrated with this and was almost at the point of picking up the phone and calling Dick. It had been a good three or four months since he’d responded to her IM’s or e-mails and she was getting worried about him. Even if he was sick or had moved or something he could still check his computer in four months, couldn’t he?

But, big surprise, Bruce Wayne wasn’t listed in the phone book and neither was Dick Grayson. She could have called Wayne Enterprises in Gotham but that was just too stupid. What was she going to do; ask to speak to Bruce and get him to pass on a message?

Oh yeah, right. Good idea.

“D? PLS ANSWER.”

He didn’t.

 

* * *
 

“L? U there 2nite?”

“FINALLY! Where were U? U ok?”

“No, not ok. Bummed. Upset. Angry. All of the above.”

“Y?”

“Complicated.”

“Y?”

There was a long delay. Finally Lisa tried again.

“D, talk 2 me.”

The answer came through after almost twenty minutes. “I’m 18. That means B is supposed to cut me loose. I knew it was coming but it’s…”

The sentence was left hanging.

“What do U mean ‘cut you loose’?”

“Wardship ends at 18. B is done.”

“This means he’s going 2 throw U out? Doubt it.”

“If he wanted to extend this he could have adopted me, but he didn’t—in 10 years he didn’t. He had time, didn’t want 2.”

“Have U talked 2 him?”

“No point. He knows the contract.”

“Has he sed 2 leave?”

“No point. We both know the contract. I leave at the end of school next month.”

“College?”

“Hudson. Scholarship. I applied on my own. N I have some $.”

“This is stupid. Talk 2 him.”

“No. Drop it. ‘Sup with U?”

“D, talk to him.”

“DROP IT”

“OK!”

“Sorry, Lisa.”

“ok. I’m ok—going to Barnard in NYC. Maybe we could get 2gether. NY’s not far from Hudson.”

“Maybe.”

“U don’t sound interested, D. Don’t U want 2?”

“It’s just that this works—e-mail, IM. It works. No hassle. No complications. That came out wrong, but you know what I mean.”

“Long distance friends. I get it.”

“Yes. U mad?”

“No. Do U have any real, in person friends?”

“Yes, but it’s different. With U I can say what I really think.”
"Y?"

"They think I'm perfect-stupid, I know, but they do. Think i can fix anything, figure out anything, do anything and do it all with my eyes closed and my left hand."

"Y not be honest with them. Tell them U'r human."

"They wouldn't believe it."

"U'r leader of the pack?"

"Something like that."

"Stupid."

"Me?"

"U N Them. U'r U. Just U, a person."

"Y'think?"

"Duh."

"U'r right, but they don;t see it. Thanks, though."

“Thank U, D!”

“No—thank U, Really.”

 

* * *
 

Bruce reread the IM from Dick’s computer. So, that explained his distance the last few months. He seemed to have assumed that because his wardship legally ended with his 18th birthday, he’d be bounced out on his ear. In fact, nothing could be further from the truth. It was silly, ridiculous when you came down to it but—well, hell, they’d never really talked about it so when you came down to it maybe the assumption wasn’t so far out of line.

But Dick was more secure than to think he’d be thrown out, wasn’t he? And what was this about him having to be strong and perfect so that the rest of the Titans could use him as a shoulder whenever one of them had a damn hangnail? Why would Dick put himself in the position of denying his own needs to be a damn pillar of strength of those kids? F’the love of God, Roy Harper was enough of a mess on his won without Dick taking on the rest of those dysfunctional adolescents.

“No, Master Bruce, maybe he isn’t, not regarding this. It’s beyond me to imagine any child would be.”

Bruce slightly started, though he—of course—controlled it enough that Alfred couldn’t see he’d been surprised. “How so?”

“Consider, if you will. The lad was suddenly and violently orphaned, mistakenly thrown into juvenile detention, lost in the system for several weeks, abandoned by what blood family he had and then taken in by a stranger. In addition he wasn’t made a legal part of your family, Bruce—you made that clear and this was reinforced by every article and book written about you mentions how kind and noble you were to give the poor waif a decent home.”

“Implying that he didn’t have ‘decent home’ before that.”

“Quite. And then—he’s quite correct in realizing that you not only never corrected the situation, but made it clear that you never would, that you’d never attempt to replace his own father.”

“But he knew the reason for that, I never wanted to push his real father out of the picture, to eliminate him.”

“And so Dick became neither fish nor fowl.”

Bruce leaned back in his chair. “But, for God’s sake, he knows how important he is to me—to both of us. He knows he’s loved and valued here.”

Alfred placed the sandwich and glass of milk in front of Bruce. “Yes, I suppose he does.” He walked away, headed upstairs to the Manor proper. “Though I do remind you of the adage that actions do tend to speak louder than words.”

He looked at the IM’s still on his monitor, considering what he’d do now. The easiest thing, the simplest thing would be to just talk to Dick, ask him what he wanted, what would fix this but as soon as that thought formed in his mind he dismissed it. Dick would consider it a sop and a poor effort and then he’d know that his personal correspondence had been compromised.

Unacceptable.

He’d talk to Lucius in the morning. Lucius was good at this sort of thing; he’d know what to do.

And he did talk to Lucius in the morning. Unfortunately, Lucius misunderstood Bruce speaking to him as VapidBruce and perceived the problem to be that Dick was simply upset about attaining his majority and so thought he would be cut out of Bruce’s will—though he was confused about that. He knew Dick and he found it a stretch to believe the boy would care that much about a pile of money. He’d though the kid had more substance than that.

Well, maybe he was mistaken and so had Legal go over Bruce’s will with a fine tooth comb, making sure that Richard John Grayson remained Bruce Wayne’s primary heir.

 

* * *
 

“So, U in a better mood, D?”

“Yes—better. I’ve decided to not let minor crap bother me—I was doing 2 much of that and it was stupid. B and I R ok.”

“G8T!”

“So solved the prob?”

“B totally misunderstood why I was upset. I finally realized that he doing the best he can, but doesn’t have a clue.”

“That’s it?”

“Basically. In a nutshell.”

“Cripes, D.”

“I know. So ‘sup with U 4 summer?”

“Work. Lifeguarding at the local pool. U?”

“Maybe touring with Ringling for part of the summer.”

“Kewl!”

“Yeah.

TBC

 

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