What the Pictures Show

Clueless

Bruce let out a long drawn sigh and picked up the newspaper that Jason had oh so rudely thrown at him before storming out, scuffing one of the manor's newly repainted doors. "Just when you start to think that they've learned a bit of responsibility and respect, they have to go and prove you wrong," he muttered. "Why can't they ever have conversations with me about how they're feeling like adults, Alfred? I know Jason's been having a hard time and he has all this trauma and rage he's dealing with, but you'd think by this point he'd know to talk to me before his emotions boil over. I have trauma therapists and resources to help him, he just needs to ask!"

Bruce threw his hands up in irritation. "And when he does talk, he shouldn't project how he feels on Dick! If Jason needs a bit more attention or whatever other crap he needs to deal with what happened to him, he should be honest with me and himself! We have issues and it's going to take a lot of work to heal our relationship, but he would not rope Dick into our argument. Dick doesn't feel like that and if he did he would tell me! Jason shouldn't lie like that. It doesn't help anyone. He should know better. I—I thought our relationship had healed and here he comes again trying to destroy all of the work we've put into it for no reason. He's just so, so frustrating. I get angry. I know I shouldn't. I should be a better father to him but he just makes it so hard. I don't know how to deal with him!"

Alfred snatched a rolled up magazine and smacked the back of Bruce's head. "You're right. You should be a better father. I did not raise you to be such a cold hearted buffoon. If you would look at the paper your son gave you, you'll clearly see that Jason is quite right in everything he said and that there is a great, great deal of self reflection for you to do. Now be quiet and read."

"Yes, Alfred," Bruce said, rubbing the spot where Alfred hit him. He opened up the newspaper and on seeing the publisher, immediately groaned. If the Gotham Globe was in on whatever story had Jason acting out so much, the drama would be doubly difficult to clear up than it would be for any cheap tabloid. Scanning his eyes down, he skimmed the paper and just to see his and Dick's faces plastered across it.

"What the absolute hell?" Bruce threw the newspaper down onto his desk before picking it back up and handing it to Alfred "Look at this." He said, showing him the newspaper. "It's all bullshit. Dick got banged up on patrol 'cause he can't focus on anything lately and some idiot decided it would be a good time to make some money taking pictures."

Alfred stared silently at Bruce.

"Well?" Bruce said.

"And what about before Richard's unfortunate outing as Nightwing?" Alfred asked.

"We had a fight. Dick was being insubordinate and I was being an ass. The same old thing that always happens. It's all fine now though! I had a talk with him and apologized! Not that the damn Gotham Globe knows that."

Alfred just looked at Bruce coldly.

"Well, you look like you want to say something, so what is it?" Bruce said, annoyed.

"Well sir, if I may put forth my opinion, I believe that you should go to work today and fix this before this snowballs and causes us any more grief. And then, after work, you need to talk to your son." Alfred said. "You have needed to have a talk with him for a long time."

"Talk to him?!" Bruce exclaimed indignantly. "What is there to talk about? You don't seriously believe all the stuff Jason said?" Bruce asked angrily.

"Yes, sir, I do." Alfred said, arms crossed. He turned around and left the room. Bruce watched incredulously as Alfred left.

"We'll you're both wrong then," Bruce hissed to himself. "Dick is fine. The only issue he has is going to be fixing this mess with the Globe." He ran his hand through his hair and sighed again. He stood up and headed for the door. Maybe getting to work would clear his mind. He might as well start trying to clean up whatever mess he had woken up to today anyway.

The time it took to clean up the kitchen went by too quickly and not even Gotham traffic gave him enough time to lessen his feeling of dread. The news vans outside of WE headquarters certainly didn't help either.

Bruce took a moment to brace himself. "I've had to deal with PR disasters before but even by my standards this is going to be a mess."

He could feel the stares on his back as he entered the building, pushing through the reporters and glaring at any employee that dared make eye contact with him.

Marching through the building, he could see newspapers everywhere. Most employees had enough sense though to quickly stuff them away once they spotted him. A man sitting behind the front desk was reading a newspaper. The front page was outstretched and visible for everyone in the room as he read some article on the inside of the paper. Dick's colorful bruises clearly displayed to the entire room.

Bruce snatched the paper out of the man's hands as he charged by with a gruff "If I see anyone else reading papers when they should be working, they'll be fired."

Murmurs followed Bruce as he hurried along to the elevators which were, thankfully, empty. All he needed was some quiet solitude to figure this whole situation out. He needed time to go over whatever nonsense the media was spouting and come up with the correct method of tackling this fiasco. Having rumors and doubts of his moral character coming from his employees would not help.

He speedily found his way to his office, ignoring the calls that came from the few associates he passed by, and plopped heavily in his chair. Before he could take a moment to breath and collect himself, a quiet knock sounded from the door. It was his secretary.

"Come in," Bruce called.

"Um, I tried to get your attention before sir, but an emergency meeting has been called. Requested by the board."

Bruce sat up straighter. "Why? Has something happened."

The secretary paused for a moment. "Well, it's about a recent news story about you, sir."

Bruce let out an exasperated sigh. "Of course. I'll be right over," he said, thinking to himself 'How badly could Dick have possibly messed things up?'