Aftermath

He was swinging, no, he was flying. He was flying and it was happiness, it was pure bliss, it was exhilaration, it was every good word he could think of. He was flying and he was alive, he was home.

Then his fingers missed the bar by a hair's breadth and he was falling. He was falling and it was horror, it was terror, it was utter desperation, it was every bad word he could think of. He was falling and it only meant one thing: he was going to die. He was going to die and there was nothing he could do about it. The ground was rushing towards him and he closed his eyes as the voices of his parents rang in his ears, screeching his name in despair.

He squeezed his eyes shut and braced himself for impact, waiting to hear the sickening sound of his body hitting the ground, a sound he knew all too well. When that sound did reach his ears, it came once more than he was expecting it to, and without the accompanying impact and pain that he had been waiting for. He opened his eyes in confusion and immediately wished he hadn't.

He was eight again. He was eight and kneeling in between the dead bodies of his parents. Their lifeless eyes staring dully up at him as their blood pooled around them. He looked up to the crowd in desperation, searching for someone who could help, but they were all laughing. They were pointing and laughing at his parents as if their deaths were the funniest thing they had ever witnessed.

"Stop!" He shouted at them, it young voice getting lost among the raucous of their laughter, "It's not funny! Please help! HELP!"

He looked back down again and it was Bruce and Alfred. It was Bruce and Alfred, Wally, Kaldur, Roy, M'gann; everyone he cared about, lying dead on the circus floor. He was alone and the crowd; the crowd continued to laugh.

Dick surged awake with a barely suppressed scream, wildly looking around him, trying to separate dream from reality. Gradually he got his breathing under control as he realised that he wasn't on the circus floor, he wasn't eight, and, most importantly; Roy and Conner were sound asleep in their bunks in the little room the three of them were sharing on the circus's train. He could hear their breathing. They were alive.

Neither of them had woken up yet so he silently got out of bed and slipped out the door. Once outside, he leaned against the wall opposite the door and slid down until he was sitting with his head rested on his knees and his arms wrapped around his legs. It wasn't long before the tears came, soon followed by the quiet sobs.

He tried to pull himself together, Conner was just on the other side of the train car, separated from Dick by a thin wall, if he woke up he would definitely hear Dick and probably come to investigate, but he couldn't. There were just too many emotions running around in his head. He hadn't dreamed about his parents' deaths so vividly in a long time, and it had brought every one of the emotions associated with that event to the surface, threatening to overwhelm him. He hoped his emotions weren't projecting so strongly that they would wake M'gann up.

He didn't know how long he had been sitting there trying to get his emotions under control when Mr. Haly walked by. Dick fervently hoped that the old ring master wouldn't notice him, or just walk past, but he knew better than that. Sure enough, Haly knelt down next to Dick and laid a gentle hand on his shoulder.

"Hey there, sport, are you alright?" Mr. Haly asked in a gentle, soothing voice.

Dick took a minute to reply, fighting to make his voice come out steady, it wasn't easy at all since the presence of the closest thing he'd had to a grandfather while he was in the circus, and hearing his voice in this moment, had only added to his emotional turmoil.

"I'm fine." He answered finally, his voice no louder than a whisper.

He kept his head down in an attempt to protect his identity; he hadn't thought to put his mask on in his rush to get out of the room.

"Come now, Dick, you and I both know that's not true."

Dick's head shot up, "It's Dan! Dan Danger."

Mr. Haly smiled sadly and squeezed Dick's shoulder, "Son, you've grown, but some things never change. Like the sight of a Grayson on the trapeze. You can't fake that, can't hide it. Now do an old ringmaster a favour," he stood up and held out a hand to Dick, "And join me for a cup of tea."

Dick looked up at the old man in disbelief for a moment before taking his hand, and allowing himself to be lead to the ringmaster's personal quarters.

As soon as the door closed behind him, Dick found himself wrapped in the tight, warm, familiar embraced that he had so yearned for in the months following his parents' deaths. Soon he was sobbing hard into Pop Haly's chest.

"Shh, shh," Pop Haly murmured as he held onto the crying teen, his own voice thick with emotion, "I'm here, Pop Haly's gotcha."

Haly began to hum softly. His humming both made Dick want to cry more and calmed him down as he recognised the lullaby his mother used to sing to him.

Finally his sobbing calmed and turned into little hiccoughs.

Haly loosened his hold on Dick, "You feeling a bit better, sport?"

Dick nodded as he wiped his eyes and sniffed, "A little, yeah, thanks Pop."

Haly smiled and handed Dick a tissue, "Here, you sit down and blow your nose while I make us some tea."

Dick took the tissue and did as he was told. He watched Pop Haly with a sad smile on his face as he recalled how Haly would sit Dick down with a cup of tea when he was upset and his parents weren't around to make him feel better. Pop Haly had always been the only one who could make Dick feel better besides his parents.

"Now," Pop Haly said as he set the cups down on the small table that Dick was seated at, effectively pulling Dick out of his thoughts as he sat down opposite him, "Why don't you tell me what had you so upset?"

Dick smiled again, straight to business, same as always. He took a sip of his tea, it was perfect, just the way he remembered it, before answering, "It was just a dream."

Pop Haly lifted a busy eyebrow, "Just a dream, you say? Seems like it was one heck of a dream."

Dick smiled wanly, "You could say that."

Haly fixed him with an expectant look and Dick knew he wouldn't be happy with only that.

Dick looked down at his tea, and took a deep breath before speaking, 'It's mom and dad. When I fell in the show tonight, I thought for a moment that I was going to, to die," his voice broke so he cleared his throat before going on, "Just like they did. If Connor hadn't thrown that barrel…" Dick shuddered at the memory, so lost in it that he didn't even realise his slip of tongue.

Across the table, Haly did the same, "That's what you dreamed about." Not a question.

Dick nodded, "It started so good, I was flying, but then I missed the bar and I thought I was going to die again but then I was eight again and they were on the ground again, and -" he cut himself off as a few tears slid down his face, willing himself not start sobbing again. Pop Haly took hold of his hand and squeezed it reassuringly. After a moment he carried on, "When I looked to the crowd for help, all they did was laugh and laugh, and then when I looked again… when I looked again it wasn't just mom and dad, it was Bruce and Alfred, and everyone else I care about. They were all dead, and I was alone, and the crowd just kept laughing…" he trailed off as more tears began streaming down his face.

"Oh Dickie, I'm so sorry, son. What an awful dream." Pop Haly said mournfully as he took both of Dick's hands into his own and just held them until Dick calmed down again.

"I'm sorry," Dick apologises eventually, "It's stupid, really, it was just a dream and I'm acting like a baby."

"Hey now, there's nothing stupid about crying over a dream like that! Heck you've even got me close to tears; and you know what? It's not just because of the dream you told me about, it's because of the dream I myself had, the same one that drove me into coming to check up on you tonight." Pop Haly said.

Dick looked up at him curiously, "You had a nightmare too?"

Pop nodded solemnly, "Similar to yours, in fact."

Dick looked down again, "Oh." He murmured.

"Yes, and let me assure you that it made me cry too. Don't ever think that crying over a dream, especially a nightmare like the one you had, it stupid. You got me?"

Dick had to smile, Pop Haly sounded just like Bruce, "I got you."

"Good."

They were silent for a few moments as both concentrated on drinking their tea.

Finally, Dick broke the silence with three soft, broken words: "I miss them."

"Oh, Dicky, I do too. I do too." Pop Haly commiserated, once again taking hold of one of Dick's hands as both shed tears for their lost loved ones.

After about a minute or so later Pop Haly cleared his throat and said, "You know, I remember the first time your old man laid eyes on your beautiful mother! He absolutely bowled over by her, completely dumbstruck, in fact."

Dick looked up at Pop Haly, a smile once again forming on his face, "Really?"

"Oh yes," Pop Haly chuckled as he remembered the awestruck look on John Grayson's face, "He couldn't think straight for days after that…"

And so the hours passed as Pop Haly and Dick shared happy memories of John and Mary Grayson. As dawn broke over the European country side, the sun found the two of them curled up on old Jack Haly's bed, Dick tucked under Jack's protective arm, sleeping peacefully in one another's presence.

AN: Hello all, thank you for reading this story, I hope you enjoyed it as much as I enjoyed writing it! Now, I'm marking this as complete but I MIGHT add more chapters to it because I had like 3 different ideas for this story and I think I might still be able to add them to it. I'm not making any promises though, it's just a possibility that might include Dick and Roy bro-bonding a little and some daddybats later… MAYBE…