2012-10-14 A Very Special Episode

Long-forgotten caverns aren't exactly the place one typically expects to accomodate high-tech workstations, much less livable conditions, but there's long been part of Bruce that remains more at home down here than in the opulent manor sprawling above the differently vast underground lair. Much like the last time Nightwing was here, the mainframe workstation is active, though this time it's Batman at the interface, conducting a (highly thrilling) series of forensic tests on what appear to be scraps of off-white cloth; possibly bandages.
The cowl and cape are discarded nearby, but the Dark Knight remains otherwise dressed for 'work', articulately gloved fingers having little trouble with the intricate keys and peripheral devices hooked into the system. It's easy to doubt that Alfred's pleas that Dick speak with the Caped Crusader actually came from Bruce himself, at a glance; while it's next to impossible to enter the cave without his awareness, there's no eager greeting, no called welcome, the Batman merely remains focused on his work for the moment, eyes intent on the massive screen in front of him.
When he was asked to go down to the Batcave, Dick assumed that Alfred had something for him...an item or a question or something was broken and needed to be looked at before Bruce got back -- or he needed to know why there was a ding on the jet. Things like that. Walking down the stairs, he pauses when he sees the master of the house seated at the computer console. There is a brief scowl before he turns to call back up, presumably to Alfred, "I'll get you back for this!"
He then looks back to Bruce. "Well?"
There's a brief glance towards the passageway leading up to the manor as Nightwing shouts back to Alfred-- or perhaps the evil little kitten-- but by the time Dick reaches the bottom of the stairs, there's another hanging moment of silence and complete lack of attention even after he asks his question. The Dark Knight has to finish calibrations, after all, leaving the analysis to slowly run as he swivels in the single seat situated in front of the main workstation, folding armored hands together palm to palm, as he considers his eldest ward evenly, tapping one index finger against the other.
It's probably not an unsafe assumption that Wayne had some procedure and speech in mind for this moment that suddenly seems less applicable after Nightwing's greeting; no plan survives first contact with one's son. "Well?" The Dark Knight echoes, and luckily doesn't leave it there, "After all that we've seen, haven't I earned your trust, Dick? Should I have to explain my every move to keep you from assuming I'm trying to usurp your authority or bring harm and unecessary risk to your allies?" It's not exactly warm and inviting, but it does seem to be a sincere curiousity; and no one can accuse Bruce of beating around the bush. Even if fallout with Nightwing was never really part of The Plan.
Nightwing is about ready to go back upstairs at that silence. In fact, he has one foot on the step above when Bruce finally speaks. He takes in the question before turning back, "You earned -my- trust? Are you freaking kidding me?" There's a laugh that holds no real humor to it. "How about me earning -your- trust? I can't do anything to gain your approval...God knows I've tried practically anything. Since when did you think that it wasn't about me trusting you? I always trusted you, even if I didn't want to."
There's a slight cant of his head at that, like it's an option he hadn't fully considered before now. Which, of course, can't quite be right, now can it? Bruce's features remain stoic, difficult at best to read, eyes intent but not particularly expressive as he considers his graduated protege. "Do you?" The Dark Knight doesn't sound entirely convinced, but he also doesn't debate the point further. Simply puts the query forth, likely rhetorically. "Look around you, Dick." Batman suggests, calm belied by the sheer weight and intensity of the words, projected in the deeply resonant voice Nightwing knows all too well.
"You earned the right to stand here; you earned everything you've got. I didn't give it to you, and you don't need me to now." In fact, time and time again, Batman's made it as hard as he possibly could for Nightwing to get to where he is; for the young man's own good, if one can call it that. The words are not as harsh as they might appear at first read, as they might first ring in Grayson's ears-- it's how the Caped Crusader operates.
"What do you want me to say?" He's not equipped for caring and sharing, at least if one asks him. "It's what we do that defines us, and there's far too much to do to get caught up in this." Granted, outright approval does still remain tersely unspoken.
"And what do you want -me- to do? Go around like a lost puppy, trailing on your every word and still begging for any table scraps you can give me?" Nightwing shakes his head at that...he's lived with Bruce the longest and knows that he's not going to get sentiment or actual words of emotion from him. "I don't know what you want me to say. I'm not going to apologize for walking out. I am not a servant to be ordered about and I'm not a child. I feel like I've said this before and if leaving makes it actually sink in that I can do this just fine on my own, then so be it."
There's a pause before he gives another wry chuckle, "I'm done with the cryptic riddles. If I want to deal with that, I can to back to the Tower and deal with all those teenagers."
"You don't need to beg for anything. Not from me, not from anyone. Weren't you listening?" It's dismissive, but only of that particular line of thought. "I don't care about or need your apology. If I thought you were a child, I wouldn't trust you to operate the way you do, with what you know, and what you can do. Damian needs me pushing and prodding him to do the right thing, to start to realize why and what that is; you don't, you shouldn't, and you haven't for some time. Sneaking around in your own home, ranting and storming out on your.. closest comrades.. the paradox of feeling the respect you already /have/ earned is out of reach, then claiming you can prove you don't need me at all, all in the span of a minute..."
Batman shrugs once, draws and releases a deep breath, refocuses his words. "These things don't do you credit, or sell the point you're trying to make. You may not be my subordinate anymore, Dick-- but we're still on the same side, fighting the same battles, in the same war. If I have your trust, then you know that I know what I'm doing. If you feel you need to know specifics, ask. You already know I can't tell you everything, all the time, and you already know why. There's no puzzle to it."
There's obviously a communication issue between the two. Maybe there's always been one, except when they're actually on missions. "Maybe it's because trying to talk to you like a rational adult never got me anywhere so I had to resort to other methods. I don't care about specifics most of the time unless it directly affects me."
There's another pause, "This here? We're not even talking to each other. We're talking -at- each other. You're not answering my questions at all. I don't even know what you're trying to tell me right now except...well, all I hear is that you think that I'm acting like a child. I'm standing here trying to talk to you like a rational adult and you're the one avoiding my questions."
"Maybe." The resonant baritone doesn't ring particularly convinced, however, as Batman settles one arm onto the chair's armrest and leans back, sighing lightly. "Maybe you're not being as rational as you think you are. Maybe I haven't always, either." It's close to an admission of fault, even if it does come with an opposite edge.
"I'm telling you a lot more than that you've been acting like a child." Bruce does note in brief. "What questions didn't I answer?" The Dark Knight queries simply, rather than lecturing or analyzing further, at least for the moment.
Nightwing asks again, "What do you want me to do? How am I supposed to behave here now? I'm no longer Robin and I'm not a peer." He takes in a deep breath and lets it out slowly. "Maybe I'm not always as rational as I think I am. You're not the first who's said it...but I'm also not sugar-coating things. I think that some of it was being defensive because I was saying things that they didn't want to hear." He also admits to some fault.
"What do you think you should do?" Another question is not really an answer, but Batman seems to think it takes priority over one. "It hasn't been up to me to show you your place in awhile, Dick; maybe it never was. None of you end up here due to an.. abundance of options, diverse choices." Any other man would probably chuckle at his words, Wayne just offers a slight, momentary, somewhat sad half-smile. "You left because you didn't always understand or approve of how I operate; because you needed your own space and your own identity. Because you're not Robin anymore."
It's not the easiest thing to admit, that undertones the words-- even as obvious as they may be. "It's not that different from what everyone else goes through." If cast through a very skewed lens in their family narrative. "I didn't want to hear it then, maybe you don't want to hear me now. I've given you your space, and it's not because I don't think you can do the job anymore."
It's important that Bruce...Batman...finally acknowledged that Dick isn't Robin anymore. It doesn't necessarily relieve the tension, but it's very important. "What, this is our own special version of growing pains? I don't think we fit in the whole 'After-School Special' genre." But there's almost a smile there. "So after I left you gave me space so that I could fly from the nest? You were going to come after me?" And do what? He steps back down to the bottom of the stairs, "Things are so different now for all of us. You know Robin's helping on the Titans now."
"Damian took Jason's suit. Barbara's, too." There's a degree of pain, perhaps concern more than anything, tinging the matter-of-fact intonation. It's telling simply that it's the first thing Batman says when Dick brings up the topic of change and growth, though. Jaw clenches, unclenches, as Wayne takes a moment to study the craggy borders of his shadowy inner sanctum. "But yes, something like that."
There's a momentary grinding of teeth, weighing of words, always easier for Grayson than for the Dark Knight, especially in situations like this. "You can say what you want about me, but.. this is what I trained you for, Dick. You don't need my approval, or my permission, but if you want my opinion-- you're a leader, and you should continue to lead. I don't know your team as well as I perhaps should, but I know enough about them to know that they need what you know; probably even Tim. You're not me, and I've never wanted you to be."
"You shouldn't leave Damian out of this. He needs to learn...probably more than even Jason did, how to tell right from wrong and how to work with others. That's one of the strongest things I think I learned from you; how to work with others. It's not about being the one to toss the 'winning punch'. It's about getting the job done. It's what I'm trying to teach the Titans...some are learning. Some, not so much." Dick grimaces a little at that, but he doesn't want to go into details about that. Not now.
It's those words, though, that he really wanted to hear. He's been wanting to hear those words for years now. "I think we're a lot more alike than either of us would like to think."
"That's why I needed Supergirl. She was the best choice for the job, to keep the Joker from hurting anyone else; to keep him from hurting Tim." It's a brief explanation, but clearly a frankly honest one, there's a bit of tension to the richly projected neutrality, too coached to be natural-- Bruce hasn't forgotten what happened to Jason Todd, he never will. "It had nothing to do with you and me."
Batman doesn't ask for the details, whether out of empathy or simply the offered reason. "You'll get it done, one way or the other." the Dark Knight swivels back to face the workstation, drawing a small metal capsule similar to the ones that might hook onto one of their utility belts from it and flipping it end over end in a precise, graceful arc towards Nightwing; without even looking back.
"Hook your vehicles and your own network back into mine, then you'll only need to sneak in here when you want to." .. and Dick will be able to keep in touch, with better resources at his fingertips. The capsule contains chips with encryption keys for the extensive, extensive network of servers, trojans, and of course data that Batman maintains-- or at least, much of it. Maybe it all did go according to plan, after all?
Nightwing catches the capsule easily and tucks it into a pocket for safe-keeping. "My issue with Supergirl at the time...was how she started out her relationship with Tim. With the whole 'Secret Identity' thing. We had a nice, long talk back at the Tower and we've come to an understanding, I think. I now trust that she won't divulge any information about him...or us...now. Thanks for the connection...it'll help, I think. We have a bit of a mystery right now that's not the easiest to solve."
Batman takes a moment to examine the results the computer scans have gathered to this point, and queue up a few more off of those readouts-- all like it's second nature, barely taking his attention. He doesn't miss a beat in the discussion, this time. "Do you need my help?" The Dark Knight doesn't immediately comment on the relationship between Robin and Supergirl, but it's a certainty he doesn't miss it, either.
That topic, like their many similarities, is simply not immediately engaged. The Caped Crusader turns to face Nightwing once more, several subtle shades more relaxed than when they began; of course, such things are all relative.
Nightwing is also a bit more relaxed even as he stands at the bottom of the steps. "Maybe," is offered honestly. "There's a distinct lack of information and those who -do- know things are being tight-lipped, much to my chagrin. It's also not helping to get things done. I've asked the Justice League for help as well as the amount of fire-power is not something we can easily handle."
There's a pause before he asks, "Do you need any help here? I know Tim's in school and spending time with Donna..." semi-retirement, like Dick did when he attended college.
"Get me names and what information you do have, and I'll see if I can shake more loose to go on." Batman offers smoothly and without hesitation. He does have a ridiclous repertoire ways of getting people to talk, even if the simple edge of a building is perhaps his most famous. It's clearly the easier of the two issues at hand, the other visibly weighed for a moment, Wayne's brow furrowing as his features become-- if it's possible-- even more pensive and introspective. "I've been busy, but I'm handling it. I think Damian has his own plans where the workload is concerned, as well. I'll.. let you know."
"And Dick?" It's almost a segue to a heartwarming acknowledgement, and probably would be in any other situation, with any but the original Dynamic Duo. "Do you trust the League? Don't answer now, think about it, I want details. I think Alfred made up a room for you." The latter rings almost as a consolation prize, but as ever with the Dark Knight, there are volumes unspoken in the simple nature of the interaction.
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