Author's Note: Although at the time I wrote this I didn't know how RY1 would
end, this story assumes that Dick won't be killed. Long after I put issue #3
down, I was haunted by Dick's words, 'want' and 'need,' and had to get my ideas
down on paper.

Disclaimer: All characters belong to DC and Time/Warner; this is an original
story that doesn't intend to infringe on their copyright. Feedback is welcome.

Copyright January 2001

****

Epilogue
By Syl Francis

****

Dick stood quietly, staring out the windows. The immaculate grounds of Wayne
Manor lay peacefully before him. Sighing, he shrugged his shoulders and turned
away.

This was it. Two-Face was finally put away-hopefully, for good this time. It
was over.

This was good-bye. This time for good.

Dick grabbed his backpack. He refused to take anything that he hadn't brought
with him when he first arrived. A photograph on top of the dresser caught his
attention, the last picture ever taken of the Flying Graysons. Haly Circus
seemed so long ago now.

"Why did you have to die?" he whispered. He blinked back the tears that
threatened and swallowed the lump in his throat. He took one last look around
the room. There was nothing left to show that Dick Grayson had ever slept here.

"I never belonged here, anyway," he said aloud, addressing his parent's picture.
"You were right, Dad. Circus people and outsiders don't mix."

He carefully stuffed the framed photo in his pack and turned to head out. He was
stopped by Bruce's formidable figure blocking the door.

"So you're quitting?" Bruce's tone was harsh, as harsh as any Dick had heard
from him in his darker persona.

"You fired me, remember?" Dick shot back. Man and boy locked eyes, neither
flinching, both refusing to be the first to look away. To Dick's utter surprise,
Bruce finally broke contact. Dick stared at his guardian. Bruce suddenly looked
uncomfortable, awkward. He appeared to be staring anywhere except at Dick.

Disgusted, Dick shook his head.

"That's what I thought," he muttered. He made a move to go around his former
mentor, but Bruce grabbed him by the arm, stopping him.

"Dick, this is your home." He spoke in even, no nonsense tones, a man used to
being obeyed. "And like it or not, I'm your legal guardian."

Dick shook his head.

"I don't belong here, Bruce. If I stay, I'll just be a charity case." Dick again
made a move towards the door. "And don't worry. I'll tell the Juvie Judge that
it just didn't work out between us. You'll be off the hook."

"Is that what you think I want?" Bruce asked sharply. "To be taken off the
hook?"

Dick stopped in his tracks. Not turning around, he spoke in soft tones.

"Like I said in my note-" He paused, his voice breaking slightly. "You don't
want a partner, and you don't need a son." Then speaking rapidly, he added,
"I've gotta go. Alfred's probably waiting-"

But Bruce again stopped Dick, this time by placing his hand on the boy's
shoulder.

"Please, let me go, Bruce," Dick pleaded. He felt his insides churning in
turmoil. Couldn't Bruce see how hard this was for him? Why didn't he just let
him go? It's what they all wanted, wasn't it?

"But don't you see?" Bruce asked. "'Want' and 'Need' are relative terms."

Dick shook his head, the words echoing in his head, but the meaning slipping
from his grasp. What was Bruce saying?

"Dick, you're right that I don't *want* a partner or *need* a son-" Bruce
began.

"Then *let*-*me*-*go*!" Dick shouted, squirming from under Bruce's firm clasp.
He started running down the long, upstairs corridor. The next instant, Dick
found himself flying headlong to the floor, held in the strong grip of his
considerably larger, stronger, and much more experienced ex-mentor.

"Let me go!" Dick repeated, uselessly kicking out. "You don't *want* me here,
anyway!"

"That's not true, Dick-!" Bruce said, insistent. But at this moment Dick kicked
up and successfully connected with his mentor's hard jaw, forcing Bruce to
loosen his hold on him.

Dick jumped up and resumed running. Rounding the corner that led to the
staircase, Dick leaped and slid down the banister. Reaching the end of the road,
Dick somersaulted and landed gracefully. Never breaking stride, he took off
again.

Moments later, Dick shot through the front door and ran towards the waiting
Bentley. Alfred stood calmly next to the open, rear passenger door.

"Alfie! Let's go!" Dick yelled as he ran past the urbane valet. Glancing over
his shoulder to see if Bruce was behind him, Dick hurriedly slipped into the
backseat. As soon as he was inside, the door slammed shut behind him.

"Going somewhere?" a deep voice growled next to him. Dick spun around, startled.
Instantly, he tried the door. It was locked. He was alone in the car with Bruce.
Dick slumped on the seat. Why had he even thought that he could get away from
the Dark Knight, he wondered?

"I'm sorry, Dick," Bruce said quietly. "But you're not going anywhere until I've
had my say. Then, if you still want to leave, I won't try to stop you. Fair
enough?"

Dick looked at him uncertainly.

"Do I have your word?" he asked, his eyes narrowed. Bruce's eyes bored into his.

"I've never lied to you, Dick. I won't begin now."

Dick nodded, looking down. "Okay," he muttered. "Get it over with."

"Dick, I meant what I said. Wayne Manor is your home. You belong here."

"No, I don't!" Dick said, pinning Bruce with a fierce glare. "You *fired* me,
remember? Without Robin, I've got nothing here."

"You have everything!" Bruce snapped. "You have *Alfred*! Is *he* nothing?"

Dick felt his cheeks burning.

"That's not fair. You know that's not what I meant!"

Bruce raised a single eyebrow. "What *did* you mean?"

Dick stared at Bruce, unable to speak. What *did* he mean? That if he weren't
allowed to have Robin, then he had no claim on Batman? If so, then could he have
any claim on Bruce? Was that it? That without Robin, he had no real relationship
with Bruce other than being some orphaned, charity case?

"I won't take charity!" Dick said stubbornly.

"You're *not* a charity case, Dick," Bruce said, sounding dangerous.

"Yes, I am-!"

"No you're not!" Bruce shouted, his patience at an end. "You're family! You're
*my* family! As much as Alfred is. As much as my parents were!"

Dick shook his head in denial and scooted as far from Bruce as possible, his
expression anguished.

"No, I'm not," he said, choked with emotion. "I don't belong! And I won't stay
where I'm not wanted or needed!"

"But you *are*, son!" Bruce tentatively reached across the space that separated
them and placed his hand on Dick's shoulder. "Dick, I may not *want* a partner
or *need* a son, but-"

Dick slapped Bruce's hand off his shoulder and buried his face on the backrest,
hugging his knees up to his chest.

"Why don't you just leave me alone?" he sobbed. "I know you don't want me. No
body does. Only Mom and Dad did."

"Dick, that's not true," Bruce said, moving next to the boy. "You didn't let me
finish. I tried to tell you earlier. Before you kicked me." He spoke this last
with uncharacteristic lightness, while tenderly feeling his jaw.

Dick chanced a peek at Bruce. He noted the discoloration around Bruce's lower
jaw. Sniffling, he whispered, "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have kicked you."

"No, I had it coming," Bruce replied. At Dick's look, he explained. "I acted
badly, Dick. When I saw what Two-Face did to you, I panicked. At first I thought
I'd lost you, and then when you recovered, I was afraid to put you in harm's way
again."

Bruce absentmindedly brushed back a lock of Dick's hair. "I couldn't bear the
thought of losing you, Dick."

"But you trained me, Bruce," Dick protested. "You're the best there is! I know
that I made mistakes with Two-Face. Got overconfident. But I learned! *You*
taught me to learn from my mistakes!"

"I know," Bruce admitted. "But *knowing* isn't the same as *feeling*! So I
overreacted. And instead of keeping you close and protecting you, it only served
to push you away."

Sighing, Bruce sat back and brought his arm around Dick's shoulder, pulling him
in.

"It's the same with *wanting* and *needing*, Dick. I may not want a partner, but
you've shown me beyond a shadow of a doubt that I *need* one. You watch my back;
see things that I might miss. You've made yourself necessary, Dick. I see now
that I function better with you than without you."

Dick gaped at Bruce, barely registering the meaning behind his guardian's words.
"Y-You *need* me?" he asked in a small voice.

Bruce's usually stern expression softened. Abruptly, he ruffled Dick's dark head
affectionately.

"I sure do-partner." He gave Dick a half-smile. "As for needing a son-well,
maybe I don't *need* a son, but having you around, Dick, has shown me just how
much I *want* one."

But Dick was only half-listening. Partners! Bruce said he *needed* him-that he
needed Robin! He beamed up at Bruce. Slowly, the rest of his guardian's words
began to sink in. Bruce said that he wanted-? Dick's expression must have
registered shock, because Bruce's smile faltered suddenly.

"What is it, son?" Bruce asked, worried.

"Son?" Dick barely managed to get the word out. "Y-You w-want a s-son?"

Overcome with barely suppressed emotions, Bruce could only nod in response. With
a wordless cry, Dick threw himself at Bruce, burying his face in his guardian's
strong arms. Bruce held his boy to him for a long moment, thankful that he still
could after Dick had gone one-on-one against Two-Face.

Finally, Dick gazed up at Bruce, his blue eyes reflecting the pain he'd lived
through recently.

"Why me?" Dick asked humbly.

"Because no one else can understand who I am and what I do. Nor can they feel
the agony I did when my parents were murdered. Only you. You and I are one and
the same." Bruce held Dick spellbound.

"Dick, in my eyes, you *are* my son."

The End