Rating: T rating. Something I haven't done in a very long time.
Characters/Relationships: Father/Son Bruce Wayne/Dick Grayson is the main relationship and characters in this. But Commissioner Gordon and Alfred play a key role as well.
Warnings?: Hm, yes, actually. But nothing too bad. There is only a bit of blood mentioned. But really the worse could be spoilers for the episode "I Am The Night.", but again, considering this is based off of the 1992 series, I don't think spoilers is a real problem anymore. Lastly, there could be some Bruce Wayne OOC in here somewhere. But this time, I actually don't care about the OOC, if there is any. During this ordeal and this episode, Bruce acted this way. I only enhanced it to make it more angsty. You don't believe me? Bring out your old DVDs and watch the episode! 8D
Word Count: 2,494. (When I first thought of this, this wasn't suppose to be this long. Oh well, oops!)
Notes: All right, as I said before hand in the warning this fan fiction is based on "I Am The Night." and was actually written during a night when I was rather depressed and upset over personal family problems. That is why it seems darker than most recent things I've written. But then again, this scene where Dick comes to talk to Bruce had always been one of my favorite scenes in the series, it's so dark and amazing. So, of course some of dialogue is taken from the *exact* episode, but in some cases I did some major editing to move things to fit the storyline better. And of course, again, as per normal with fan fictions. I made the reference my own and created something interesting, thus I'm not actually rewriting that part of the episode, only using it as a reference for my own personal idea.

So yeah, if you have a problem with me writing out something like this. Er, don't kill me! Just read and enjoy the angst! ;) Thanks!

(C): Batman and all related characters belong to his creator, that awesome dude, you know who he is. The TV series doesn't belong to me either. Seriously, I don't own him and I'm not daring to claim ownership over dear old Batman. He isn't mine, and you should know this. I only own this little fan fiction based on the series! Don't sue me for anything, cus Batman ain't mine! :O

Being called to Wayne Manor was never easy for Dick Grayson, not as of recent and especially not so when Alfred had sounded so urgent on his dorm room telephone, demanding that he come over right away. He hastily explained to the eighteen year old about everything that happened throughout the week, how police commissioner Jim Gordon had been wounded in battle, nearly fatally in fact, and that Bruce had isolated himself within his Batcave, refusing to come upstairs or even have contact with anyone, lest he spurt out the wrong thing without thinking. Alfred knew that if anyone could talk sense into The Dark Knight, it would be him.

But as Dick walked through the passageway and down into the dark depths at five in the morning, a heavy silence slapped him in the face. As he glanced about it seemed that even the bats that lingered were far quieter than usual and there was a thick sheet of emotional distress pulsing from the rocks. It was something that made Dick feel strangely uncomfortable as he searched for his mentor.

He called out his name, and when Batman 'He's still in his costume?' walked—staggered more like, he thought-towards the boy and Dick was able to see him clearly for the first time in four days, he noticed that he looked all together a utter wreck.

Bruce looked up at him with a tight frown and tried to walk past, but Dick held his ground and spoke up, which gained the other man's attention slightly. He stopped, but didn't move or react to his presence. Yet, regardless of him standing there silently, Dick knew there was no way that he would merely allow Bruce to walk away when he crossed half the city of Gotham to speak to him.

"Bruce," he spoke with characteristic humor twinkling in his voice, for a moment he tried to think of a witty way to break the tension, but found that nothing came to mind for this one subject, so he continued seriously. "What on earth are you still doing down here? You look awful."

There was a sudden long and awkward pause, where for a moment neither of them looked nor spoke to one another. But when Bruce did finally turn to the boy, his voice came out rough and it was obvious to Dick that he had stayed silent for too long.

"I should have been there. The people, they call me the Greatest Detective, I should have easily known something like this would happen."

Dick could only blink at this sudden self-blaming outburst from him, as it took the young man aback in surprise. He walked up Bruce's side and reached his hand out for his arm, trying to stop him from walking away absent minded once again.

"You know good and well that you can't possibly be everywhere. You didn't—"

Before Dick could try and get another word in edgewise to him, he cut him off sharply, speaking more clearly this time, and yet, unfortunately for the younger, no less distracted.

"You don't get it. I let him down, he expected me to be there, and I wasn't."

"Bruce, you're being too hard on yourself. It's not like that; every time he stepped onto that field he was putting himself at risk. He knew that, you have to understand that yourself. You can't beat yourself up like this." Dick pleaded. He had to try and get Bruce listen to his words, to listen to him and what he had to say, even if it took all night long to beat logic into his brain.

"You know that he's a friend to me. In fact, he's more than a friend," Bruce turned and locked eyes with Dick, his voice suddenly turning hoarse as he spoke his next few words. It was hard, and Dick knew that it was coming; he knew that it would be spoken about sooner or later considering the date that just recently passed and who the victim of the shooting was.

The moment he stepped into the mansion, he was prepared for it; he only had hoped it wouldn't have been brought up like this, or in this way.

"Jim is the same age my father would have been, if he hadn't—hadn't—" He stuttered uncharacteristically and trailed off, turning his back to the boy and changing the subject with as much swiftness as he could manage in his state,

"Now he's in that hospital, hanging on by a tread of his life, Dick. If I had gotten there only five minutes sooner-I know that I could have—"

"You're only human." Dick spoke with a sudden hint of annoyance falling out of his words. Bruce was still thinking of the "What ifs?" and it wasn't like him to do such, and this sudden turn made Dick feel like this was headed down a path that neither of them could handle well, or at all.

"Bruce, you do all that you can. You give a hundred and ten percent every night you put that mask on, you do far more than ten men combined. The Jazzman knew that Gordon was coming; he was prepared, even if you had been there or not…it wouldn't have changed anything! It's not your fault!" He screamed at Bruce's back. And yet he didn't flinch, despite Dick's shouting.

"You're wrong," Bruce spoke softly in reply, barely above a whisper and Dick had to strain to hear.

"But despite that fact, I can't let anyone else pay for my mistakes that I've caused, or that I will cause in the future."

He walked from Dick's side, to one of the outstretched cliffs in the cave and stared blindly to the darkness of the rocky depths below his booted feet. Dick stayed where he was, and remained silent. Allowing him a moment, for he was not able to think of a rebuttal, or anything that would put either of the men's minds at ease. It was at this moment that he was at a loss for words, which was quite surprising for the boy's talkative characteristic.

"I can't let anyone else pay for my mistakes, I can't put anyone else in harms way." Bruce placed a hand over his forehead, and shook his head, before continuing on, "How much longer will it be before I stand and watch someone else I love be killed in front of my eyes without my being able to stop it? What if it's Alfred? Or Leslie? Or…"

Each word came out in a sharp breath, as though it pained him to say their names in relation to such a subject. He quickly silenced himself with a gruff sigh, not daring to speak the final words. Dick took this opportunity and stepped closer, once again taking his place at his side and placing his right hand on his shoulder, as he had done for him several times to clam him, and to assure him comfort. And he listened intensely to what he might utter out next.

Bruce turned to face him then when he felt Dick's hand upon his shoulder, using his off hand to reach up towards his cowl and snatch it down with a quick jerk, while the other clasped onto the boy's shoulder tightly.

He looked down into his face and eyes with a half lidded glance, and the boy's arm fell to his side, as he could see that the older man's face was riddled with darkened shadows of sadness and torment, more so even for someone such as Bruce Wayne.

Dick resisted the sudden urge to widen his eyes at how much he had gone through over the past few nights. He didn't dare to make a small remark to the fact of how much such a thing had managed to eat away at his mind, or how he had allowed it to. Least somehow it made matters worse. So he snuffled away his gasp and kept their eyes locked.

Bruce looked away for a moment, collecting himself, and then turned back towards Dick, his eyebrows lifted up into despair as he opened his mouth to speak, and his eyes shown the full extent of his emotions. Dark and cloudy. And in the instant that such appeared, they vanished and Bruce's tough exterior worked it's way back into full control. It happened so quickly that anyone else would have missed such a thing, unless, of course, they were looking for it. And then finally-

"What if it's you next time, and I'm not there? What if I let you down and have your blood on my hands because I don't make it in time to save you. What if it happens like with Jim, gunned down like they were meaningless. And only being able to watch in horror as he falls to the ground?"

Bruce looked down and grit his teeth, the memory worked its way into his mind, the image of Gordon lying there unmoving. Then his mind flashed and a younger man and woman lay there instead. He could see the blood seeping from their clothing and how it was painting the sidewalk with a young, helpless, child in the middle of their bodies, fallen to his knees, crying for the parents he lost far too soon.

Each flash, and every memory he saw brought about more grief that Bruce knew that he did not need this night.

Another flash came into his mind, brought upon the words he spoke not a moment ago to the young man in front of him; his hands tightened once more upon his shoulders. Jim and his parents faded into the darkness, and instead he saw Robin—no, no, Dick-standing in front of his eyes, turning to face him with a expression riddled with fear and shock. Reaching out his green gloved, he could see that it was caked with blood. It was his blood. A blink, and The Joker stood behind Dick, laughing his cursed, demented wail as he held a rifle smoking in his hands.

In an instant Bruce jerked his head up and backed away from the boy. He shut his eyes tightly, desperately shielding away such an image deep within the back of his mind as he turned around to face the cliff side once more, not wanting to look at him any longer.

The sudden movement and reaction from Bruce caused Dick to step back in surprise with his arms raised in defense. Wondering to himself if he truthfully heard those words spoken from the man.

He looked down at his feet and sighed deeply, his own emotions working his way around his mind. Remembering suddenly that it had been only a few months after the whole ordeal with Tony Zucco and his driven intent on hunting down his own parent's murderer, which raised much tension between the two and their relationship with one another.

That mission left an impression on the boy, and he still managed to recall what Bruce had said that morning afterward, at nights when he was alone, lying awake when his roommate slumbered peacefully. It was one of the rare moments where Bruce had showed genuine care to the Boy Wonder he raised.

"I couldn't bare the thought that he could have—taken you as well."

But now with this new thought of losing himbearing down on his mind after everything that had happened… no, Dick knew that this could not be left to fester. If he wasn't intent on stopping Bruce's morbid sense of thinking before he walked in, he was now. Dick had to try and clear his mind, somehow in some way. He quickly snapped his head up and spoke, trying to grab his attention before he did something he'd regret.

"Bruce listen to me. Don't say that, don't go there, I know you wouldn't let that happen—you-"

Bruce's tightly closed eyes opened at Dick's awkward sounding voice that was trying to reassure him, but he didn't want to hear such things, especially not on that. He turned around and spoke angrily, his fists were clenched in front of his chest tightly and his voice was raised with enough volume that it was able to bounce off of the walls of the cave for a few seconds when he spoke.

"But if I easily failed him, the exact same could be the same for you! If he dies because of this, there's nothing stopping The Joker, Two-Face, or some lucky punk from getting their hands on you to get to me. If something like that would happen-if I let that happen. You don't get it, Dick. You don't understand any of it,

"In the end, when you look at all the years, just how much good have I accomplished? What type of great hero can I be when there's always someone injured and dead because of my actions? No, now I see. Maybe it's time that The Batman returned to the darkness that spawned him, to put aside this game before anyone else gets hurt!"

Looking down at the wrinkled cowl within his grasp, Bruce shifted his gaze into the darkness of the gorge below him and without so much as a grunt he let his mask fall to the bottom. Without another word, he turned and stormed towards the stairs that would lead him up to the main floor of his mansion. Leaving his other self, his cursed personality, and a very shocked Dick Grayson behind him, who was trying everything to trail after him, yelling as he went.

"Bruce, wait up! Wait! Bruce!"

Not responding, or even listening to the boy's loud calls behind him, Bruce walked up the stairs and left a bewildered Dick and Alfred-Whom was unfortunate enough of having walked into the middle of this conversation with a silver tray of tea in his hands-in the middle of the hallway as he went up to his master bedroom and shut the door with a heavy slam.

Tearing their eyes away from the stairway, both men looked at one another with matched worried expressions upon their faces. Dick shook his head and watched as Alfred reached for one of the teacups on his tray-most likely which he would have eventually brought to them in hopes that he could have successfully slapped Bruce out of his depressed state-Alfred sighed 'But from the looks of things, it seems that even Master Dick didn't reassure him.' He thought to himself silently gently nudging said young master's attention with a shift of his shoulder, handing the cup to him.

Dick took it silently and nodded his thanks. Looking up once again at the closed doorway, he sighed defeated and looked at the crystal window to his side. The sight left him feeling far uneasier than the reaction from Bruce.

The sun was rising.

Writer's note: Hopefully you'll end up understanding the ending fully. I realize that some of that symbolism may have went over a few people's heads. I know that some of my friends and family didn't get it at first either, so just think about it for a moment if you don't get it right away. And think about Batman's title, "The Dark Knight", and what sunrise normally symbolizes in fiction. Just thought that I would put that out there. First real fan fiction I ever wrote about Dick Grayson and Bruce Wayne. And hopefully, with some ideas from a dear friend, I'll have a continuation of this idea soon in a form of another fan fiction. I won't say anything else though, I'll just leave you all guessing, because I'm evil like that. Mawha! :D But trust me when I say it'll be fun and dark. Hopefully, if all things go well with my writing abilities and I don't run into another artist block. :P BLAH. Anyway...

Thank you for reading~!