"Catch me if you can!"
"Dick be careful!" Mary shouted up at her little boy as she wove flowers, from the field their small family was picnicking in, into a crown.
The innocent blue eyed boy was up in a tree.
"We don't need to worry about our little flying squirrel Mary, he's at home up there," John said, taking the woven crown and placing it over his wife's head.
In response the woman huffed, blowing a wisp of hair out of her face, "OK, muscle man, you go up after the kid, I'll set out the food."
"A done deal," John said with a smile, kissing Mary on the cheek and scrambling up the nearest tree after their little bundle of joy, who had just found his way to an outward branch that stretched over to the next tree.
"Come on son, it's time to eat. Isn't that stomach of yours always hungry?"
"But I want to reach the other tree."
"We'll sneak off later today and come back before the circus leaves."
"Really?"
"I promise. Now, let's get down before we give your mother two heart attacks."
The little boy's face lit up brighter than usual with his smile, "OK!"
The little one stepped forward, reached out and took hold of his father's hand.
SNAP!
Air left the boys lungs as the tree branch underneath him broke away, wood chips flying up to scratch his cheek. And what was worse, was that the force of gravity tore his hand from his father's.
And he was falling.
Falling was almost like flying up through the rain, a twisted up version anyways, an upside-down kind of rain turned over like a deck of cards by the crazy force called the wind. Even though these thoughts were the few things that proclaimed his attention for the briefest moment, the acrobat was a FLYING GRAYSON!
This was nothing.
Turn the head, reach out, catch a thick branch.
Whoosh!
That's how it went for the young one, his pale hand gripped the bark of the branch tightly, the ends of the equivalently placed ingrowing wood sticking out to scar and he whimpered as said pointed bits of wood dragged their fingers across and sliced through the nerves on and beneath his palm. Crimson slid over the red wood and his breath came back in that moment
-But only for THAT moment.
For the branch responded with elasticity, shooting back up to straiten itself and pulling the boy with it.
Whoa! Whiplash much!
Arms encircled his waist and the boy smiled as he regained his breath and he recognized the touch of his father.
"John! What is going on up there?"
Crap, if the mother found out-
John Grayson looked down at his son and he was shocked at the look of the little ebony haired boy. The little six year old wasn't crying like expected in a normal experience. He was laughing and smiling.
"That was so cool!"
John allowed himself a chuckle. This boy would take the world by storm!
"Can I do it again!"
"No."
The little one's face fell, "No Dick, it's time to eat, remember?"
At the moment, the boy's stomach chose to growl and he blushed, embarrassed, though he knew he didn't need to be around someone as silly as his dad, "OK, but remember, you promised."
The elder acrobat chuckled, "And I won't break it, little flying squirrel. As long as you don't tell your mother."
"Deal! As long as I can have a big piece of pie!" the boy said as his father swung him up and onto his shoulders.
"You're ransoming my lunch?"
The boy just smiled and nodded quickly like the little kid he was.
Later, as the acrobat family feasted on cheap, thin and overly salted deli meat made sandwiches, John Grayson looked to his little boy as the child stuffed a large piece of strawberry pie into his mouth and smiled in that way that proud fathers did. The kid had been so happy after that, although Mary had demanded they wash and disinfect their hands before they ate, and it got the man thinking that if he was ever so lucky as to win millions or dare he believe, billions of dollars he was getting that little boy of his a plane, or maybe even a jet pack if they had invented it by then.
Like he had promised, the father and son had returned that night and spent hours just climbing trees, until Mary had found them gone and tracked them down. The entire family spent most of that night climbing trees and once the sun went down, catching fireflies and releasing them again to watch them light up the night sky like the stars, the earthbound insects' space counterparts.
There weren't many details for the boy to focus on, because even though it was all the same, all that mattered was the feeling that it brought with it all.
The late evening was nothing different from other nights, his parents and he went to bed and talked in the darkness for a few minutes about their next trip back to the U.S. via a long cruise ship. They would be heading for Metropolis first and begin a two year tour ending in Gotham city, where afterwards, they would be traveling into Canada for another two year tour there.
"It'll be cold there, in Canada," the child pointed out, his eyes searching out the glow from the clock on the fold out table next to his bed.
Mary spoke up with a sigh smile on her lips, "Yes, but you'll love all the maple syrup."
"Hmm," John breathed next to her near silently, "I want pancakes now."
"Go to sleep marshmallow head," Mary said, whacking her husband with her pillow.
"Woman, you are initiating a war!"
The youngest Grayson laughed, "Oh you're in for it, Dad."
A subtle creak awakened Dick Grayson from his dream. His eyelids slid up and his blue eyes attracted the beams of sunlight streaming in through his window, as if they confused his eyes for the atmosphere they moved through on earth.
"Dick?"
Ebony hair brushed against the far side of his extra fluffy pillow as the boy acrobat turned to stare at his doorway. Bruce was up and already dressed. Big surprise right?
The thought made the boy grin and sit up quickly, stretching his arms up and out as he yawned, "Morning Bruce, any hopes we can see to that warehouse tonight?"
Bruce frowned. The boy gets up and the first thing he asks about is crime fighting. Better soldier than he thought.
"I heard you say 'dad,' did you have a nightmare?"
Dick blinked a few times in surprise before he chuckled and laid a hand against the black bat symbol on his t-shirt, "No, it was actually a good dream. A memory of our time in Tashkent, before we came back to America and started our two year tour, you know the one that ended here."
The ebony haired child's smile fell for a moment before he dragged his hand across his mouth and smiled brightly again, as if he had the ability to physically wipe off frowns.
Maybe he did have that power.
For Bruce smiled a relieved grin and stepped back outside, holding his ward's door open, "Come on Alfred has breakfast waiting."
The acrobat whooped and got out of bed, leaving it ruffled as it was. He'd come back and fix his bed after breakfast.
"I hope it's pancakes!"
With some kind of Canadian Maple Syrup. Maybe that one his mother mentioned, the one he never got to try...
As the two descended the last flight of steps, Dick followed the design on a line of wallpaper with his eyes. It lead his gaze into the library where the portrait of Bruce's parents hung in solemn silence over the cold fire place. That made him frown a bit. He had moved the portrait of his parents into his room, had actually made the request of Alfred sometime last year, of course though, he had to make sure that the picture was in the right place so any light of any day would illuminate them perfectly. That's where some the of lessons Bruce had given him had actually come in handy when he had, at first, thought that they were tedious and had found there were a lot of elements to attempting to get the picture and light to work just right.
He didn't understand why, well OK, he might have understood more than most people why Bruce kept that portrait back in the library but, if HE were to hang the painting in a giant house like this, he'd have the portrait in the kitchen or hanging on the out cropping wall above the staircase they were walking down, forget the big, shiny chandelier.
"What is it Dick?"
Bruce's voice broke the boy from his thoughts and their pairs of blue eyes met in a square moment. The billionaire had stopped at the bottom of the staircase while the boy was about six steps from the bottom. The acrobat went to speak but his stomach growled and he closed his mouth to blush instead.
"I guess my stomach's hungry," Dick said with a laugh, running a warm toned hand through his onyx hued hair.
Bruce dared himself to smile, "Isn't that stomach of yours always hungry?"
The boy's breath caught. THAT. His dad in his dream-it-
The billionaire's smile fell. CRAP.
What did he do wrong now?
Man, this parenting thing wasn't easy.
The rich playboy's frown disappeared though when his boy started laughing, "Nothing to worry about, it's just, that's something my dad said when we were climbing trees in Tashkent. The dream I had last night."
Bruce's mouth fell into a straight line of indifference as he allowed his thoughts to drift. A rare occurrence.
"Hey Bruce?"
This time the BOY'S voice broke HIM from his thoughts and the pairs of blue eyes met again.
"Yes, what is it?"
As the boy descended the last few steps, the man followed the child's gaze into the library and to the portrait of Thomas and Martha Wayne.
"Do you think they would've liked me?"
Bruce took the opportunity to ruffle the acrobat's hair, as the boy's slipper covered feet hit the bottom floor, "My mother would have spoiled you rotten and my father would be fussing over your health every two minutes, probably demanding to know if I'm feeding you enough."
Dick smiled brightly. That silly little toothpaste selling smile again!
"I know I would've loved them. They would have been great grandparents and they'd be proud of you."
OK. He was not expecting that on a Saturday morning from his ward.
Bruce sighed lightly, running his right hand through his own onyx hair, he went to speak but two hands wrapped around his left wrist and started pulling him towards the kitchen.
The little ebony haired acrobat spoke quickly but clearly, "You're a better parent than you think Bruce. Hey Alfred! We got the good maple syrup?"
~Moonsetta