Far Away Chapter Five-Worry

Finally back in the Nightbird, Nightwing breathed a long sigh of relief and then a yelp when the communication light flashed on. Harriet was up-he was doomed!

"Master Richard-what do you think you are doing?"

Her voice was loud, yet deep-as always. It had been a constant source of comfort at a younger age for him but at times like these now…

"Turn on the news Harriet-you'll see where I was tonight."

"There had better be a good reason!"

Yep. All the news channels were already covering it. It was only about two minutes later that his Maid called back and with an uncharacteristically soft voice and transcribed her concerns.

"The boy's alright?"

"Yes."

"What's your ETA?"

"20 minutes, I'm going the long way."

Just to get some time to think.

"Will you need anything upon your return Master Richard?"

There was one thing he could…

"Leave my checkbook out on my desk and a marked layout of the Gotham City Cemetery."

"For the Waynes?"

Dick gulped, suddenly uncomfortable with talking, "It's the least I can do. That alleyway, I was just too slow."

"I'll wait up for you."

"Not necessary…but thank you."

Nightwing closed the communication line and set the Nightbird to autopilot so he could ease back into the seat and just…think.


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Bruce Wayne was terrified and broken. Why? Why hadn't he yelled? Why hadn't he moved? Why hadn't he suggested they go to the car the long way? Why had he just frozen? Why hadn't the superhero gotten there sooner? Why hadn't he saved them himself? He could have saved his parents if he had just…

But what good was it now?

He hadn't done anything and now his entire world was shattering before his eyes.
So now he was in the backseat of some fancy-painted but poorly built car, with a thin, tall, plastic-surgery faced tight-lipped woman upfront steering along a dark road to who-knows-where?

It was ten minutes of tight silence until the car came to a stop in front of a fair sized house that was lavishly decorated, speaking of a wealth that was just enough to enter high society but not enough to make the Gotham citizens within to appear snobbish to the general public. This was going to be his temporary home for now. Everything screamed at the boy to run, the woman's nails in his shoulder as she lead him to the door, the garden decorations suddenly growing gleaming eyes, the grass seeming to grow with just the air, the air itself thickening so it was hard to breath and the knocker echoing to the people within. He did NOT like this at all.

Not one bit.

The woman who answered the door was a maid with a too tight and little outfit. And when one tight long-nailed hand exchanged him into another hand that was exactly the same-he didn't feel any better at all. What was worse though, was when he was lead into the 'Master's' study and the maid left the room, closing the door behind her. He gulped and stared at the man. He was pressed behind a desk, extremely overweight, looked like he had had plastic surgery a dozen or two times over, and was smiling at him with an unfamiliar gleam in his eyes.

"Hello there, dear boy. What's your name?"

"B-Bruce."

His voice and throat were both still dry as a bone so he internally winced at the way his small voice cracked.

"Hello Bruce. I'm Dr. Mallory."

When he stepped around the desk, Bruce trembled and backed into the door. When the man reached for the small boy, his trembling intensified, he began whimpering, he turned quickly and tried to turn the doorknob. He didn't want to be here! He wanted his mom and dad! He wanted to be back home! He should be home! He wanted to go home!

He jumped when the man's long finger-nailed hand curled through the cloth of his jacket, into his shoulder, yanked him backwards and the other hand reached for the front of his jacket.

No…no…