“So, don’t mean to pry, but you’ve been kinda down in the dumps for the last few days; something on your mind?”
Bruce gave Belle a final pat in the neck and moved on to Ginny, a good-looking Jersey. “I don’t like to bother people, Tom. You know how it is.”
“Sure, but it don’t take a genius to see something’s bothering you. ‘ and yeah, that’s the way it is. You want to talk about it, I’m all ears.”
Bruce paused, getting the cow hooked up to the milking machine and then turned back to Tom, who was calmly waiting for him to make his move. “It’s complicated.”
“A lot of things are.”
There was a long enough pause that Tom though Bruce was going to keep his secrets until he finally spoke up. “My son is responsible for killing the woman I was in love with.” It was said flatly, matter of factly and without emotion. “I came up here, upstate I mean, to come to grips with it.”
Of all the things the man could have said, that was about the last. Bruce Wayne had a son? Sure, he had that kid all the rumormongers squawked about, but a real son? A flesh and blood son? That was new. “Where’s the boy now?” Tom was half expecting Bruce to say the kid was sitting in juvie and that sounded like a pretty major complication. Of course, even up here in the boonies they likely would have heard if some kid was suspected of killing a woman a high profile guy like Bruce Wayne was interested in. ‘Could just be Bruce talking pie in the sky.
“He was at home, now I think he’s staying with someone; he wasn’t there the last time I called and he hasn’t been in school for a couple of weeks.” Okay, he meant ‘call’ in the British way, as in dropping in but Tom didn’t have to know everything.
“’You think he’s hiding from you or the law?”
“That would be my guess. I suspect some friends of his may be helping him, but he’ll have to show himself sooner or later; it’s inevitable.”
“Wait, you mean a real son? I never thought of you as the father sort—no offense or anything.”
“Adopted, well, my ward if you want to get technical. He’s been with me since he was eight and I swear to God, I never thought he would be capable of something like…” He shook his head in what seemed to be sadness and disbelief. “I’ll find him, though. There aren’t that many placed he’d go.”
“’And then what?”
“And then I’ll have to have talk with him, I suppose.”
Tom was hoping the kid was well hid and had a good head on his shoulders.
* * *
“I agree Alfred, we have to try to get through to Bruce, find out what’s going through his mind and then just take it from there. Are you sure you know where he is?”
“I don’t, no, but Master Superman informs me that he has some strong suspicions and so I am willing to assume that he knows exactly where the Master is.”
“And Dick?”
“All I’m being told is that he’s somewhere safe and after I saw the condition of his belongings, I believe that’s for the best.”
“Yes, I agree but it’s just so unlike Bruce; he loves Dick, we’ve both seen how much. Unless he’s actually become psychotic…Are you sure he’s the only possibility?”
“Leslie, my dear, if I could think of any other possible culprit I would gladly share that with you, but no one else has the access to the Manor he does. No one else would be able to get in and out without being noticed and no one else had the motive—faulty as his reasoning seems to be at the moment.”
Leslie Thompkins was nothing if not matter of fact and she nodded. Yes Alfred, as always was right. Bruce seemed to have finally lost his grip on reality and Dick was catching the dangerous fallout and blame; they had to act to derail this before it was completely out of control.
“I often thought that Dick was the only thing that kept his sanity all these years. If he’s decided that Dick’s no longer to be trusted or has betrayed him I’m really frightened for them both.”
Alfred agreed, Bruce had saved Dick when his parents were killed, but Dick’s presence had saved Bruce just as much, if not more.
* * *
“Dick, I want you to stay here for the rest of the day.”
“C’mon Clark, you’re not serious, are you?”
“I’d just feel better if I knew where you were, that’s all.”
Dick knew the score, he wasn’t born yesterday and he wasn’t a rookie, no matter what his age was. “’You think that Bruce is going to try something, don’t you?”
Of course Clark knew Dick was too savvy to let this just lay there. “I suspect that he may, yes, so stay here, all right?”
Dick shook his head. “I know him better than anyone; I can talk to him.”
“…He’s not himself. I’d be happier if you let me handle this.” Clark paused to let his words sink in. “Will you just do this for me?”
“I’d like to at least try. You know he always listened to me when he wouldn’t give anyone else the time of day.”
“Not now. No.” Superman disappeared out the window faster than the human eye could follow, leaving Dick alone with his thoughts. He understood the risks better than anyone did; he was Robin to Bruce’s Batman, right? He knew the man, followed his logic and his reasoning, was clued in to how his mind worked and always could anticipate what to do and when.
He also knew that Bruce wasn’t himself and that, if he wanted, could and would kill anyone he thought was a threat to him or anyone he cared about.
There were people—good people working on this and if Superman, the Justice League, Alfred and God knew who else were on this, then he probably wouldn’t really be needed, right?
But he was the one who knew the man best.
Dick looked out the window Clark had just used. The doors to the apartment were all locked with security no one short of an alien invasion could bypass, but Robin could fly…
* * *
“I swear Tom, Bruce is making me nervous lately; have you noticed anything, have any idea what his problem is?”
“You know how he gets Martha, he has this pressure cooker that builds up and he needs to let off some of the steam now and then, that’s all. He’ll be all right.”
“Well, I’m glad you’re so sure.”
In fact Tom believed that Bruce was dangerous if he chose to be and that if he’d crossed the line or thought he had reason enough, he could do some major damage. It was only this certainty that had kept him from suggesting that it might be time for the man to move on; he was concerned what might happen to the farm or, more importantly, to him or Martha.
There was more to Bruce Wayne that the tabloids and the society pages knew and Tom was afraid a lot of it wasn’t good. The man had an intensity about him that could turn dark without warning. He was a large man, strong but intelligent and that was a dangerous combination if used the wrong way.
Tom admitted it to himself; he was becoming afraid of the man and wanted him gone. He just didn’t know how to go about it and keep him and his safe.
He was scared and that was something he hadn’t been in a very long time.