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Watching
Fifteen Years Ago
It was so odd, this being dead. Just an hour ago they were going about a normal evening with and their usual performance and now…it was all so sudden, that was the thing that was hard to adjust to. Maybe when they had some more time, had a chance to get used to it everything would seem less strange, but for now…it was just so different.
The other thing which was difficult to understand was how they could be so aware if they were, well, you know—if they were dead but it was like all those bad books and accounts of near death experiences you hear and read about. They were above, looking down at their bodies and the people surrounding them. They themselves were calm enough and wished they could tell the others, especially Dick—God, most of all Dick, that they were al right and not in any pain, that they'd be here watching to make sure he was taken care of.
God, Dick was so young still, just eight years old and he needed someone to take care of him so badly. He was still just a baby; their baby and he couldn't be left alone. Not now, not yet.
"I'm sorry son, I wish there was something we could do, but…they didn't suffer, I promise they didn't. It was very quick and they didn't feel any pain; you have my word on that." The doctor left, probably happy to be done with this. It had been a real mess and now there was a kid left behind and that was always difficult. Thank God his shift was over in an hour and he could go home, pop a beer and forget tonight ever happened 'cause God knew what would happen tomorrow.
"C'mon, Dick, you come stay with me tonight, okay? I'll look after you, I'll make sure you're all right—we all will." The young boy looked up at Jimmy; he was still wearing his clown makeup and costume, but Dick could see he'd been crying and his whiteface was streaked. They were sitting on the first row of bleachers, the crowd had filed out, the police and the ambulance people were getting ready to leave and he was just kind of left here. There were murmurs from the other performers standing around, he felt someone put a hand on his shoulder and squeeze and that almost made him start crying again but he didn't think thee were any tears left right now and they wouldn't change anything anyway, so what was the point?
But the police wouldn't let Dick stay with Jimmy or anyone else from the circus because they weren't 'family', even though they all insisted that wasn't the case. Because the Grayson's had died without a will—or none they could find that night, anyway, and with no actual blood relations immediately available, Dick was remanded to Child Protective Services. By then he was in shock, barely speaking and in no condition to protest, even if he hadn't been eight years old.
"John, there must be something we can do. He's—John, he's crying. Please, we have to do something. We have to."
"We will. I'm not sure how, but if we can see and hear him, there must be something we can do."
The Graysons weren't really sure where they were. Floating in a way, but they could feel their bodies, so the whole idea of being ethereal beings or ghosts wasn't right. And if they could feel and think, they could worry about their son and try to help him.
"That your boy down there? Good looking kid, if you don't mind my saying so."
How very odd. An middle aged woman, dressed in a fifties house dress of the type you'd see on Donna Reed and missing only the pearl necklace, was beside them, though they had no idea who she was, how she'd gotten there or why she'd care about Dick.
"He's barely stopped crying and they're making him get in that police car as if he'd done something wrong." Mary Grayson looked like she might joint the boy crying. "Is there anything we can do? Please, do you know how all this works?"
"Of course—May I call you Mary and John?—I'm Ann and I'll be showing you around until you get your bearings, if that's all right with you." They nodded. Really, what else were they going to do?
"Well, first things first. Let's get that boy of yours out of that horrible place they've put him in, shall we? This may take a little while, but we'll get it done. Now, whom would you like him to stay with? Do you have some family who could raise him?"
Mary and John looked at one another. They'd talked about this but Mary was estranged from her family and all of John's relatives were still in Europe. The Haley family, the circus people would be happy to take care of Dick and he'd be with 'family'. Maybe Pop would be willing?
"Sorry, the authorities will never let him stay with the circus." Ann made an apologetic face. "It looks like you died in testate, which was not too smart, you know. That means a judge will decide where he ends up. Now, we can nudge things a bit, but bureaucrats are bureaucrats no matter who you are. My goodness, you really should have made a will, if you don't mind my saying so. So—no family? Did you leave the boy any money, at least?"
John looked a bit abashed. "We never made much and fliers who work without a net can't get insurance."
Ann was too polite to roll her eyes, but she probably wanted to. "So we need someone with enough assets to take care of him. All right, now, the police won't allow him to travel out of state until the case is closed because he's probably some kind of material witness. Do you know anyone in Gotham? No? Well, you're certainly not making my job any easier, you know." She sounded exactly the way Mary's mother did when the dog left an indiscretion in the living room.
"May I ask a question?" Mary's voice was a bit tentative. "I don't mean to sound rude or dumb or anything, but we are dead, aren't we?"
"Of course you are, dear."
"It just seems so strange to be talking about bureaucracy when we're—you know. How can we make sure Dick is going to be taken care of? I'm so worried…" Looking down they saw the child being locked in what seemed to be a holding cell of some kind. He sat on the uncomfortable looking cot, his knees drawn up and his arms around his knees. It was breaking Mary's heart.
"It's not all fluffy clouds and wings, you know. I really do wish we could clear up that nonsense, it just makes things more confusing when newcomers arrive." Ann was checking a list on a clipboard she'd produced from somewhere. "Well, if you don't mind my saying, if you'd thought about these things a year ago he'd be all set and settled, now, wouldn't he?" She was sounding a bit like she'd just found a peanut butter smear on one of her cabinets. "Yes. This could work." She was checking off a name on the second page on her list. "Financially secure, upstanding member of the community, civically minded, employed, no prior arrests, live in help. Yes, he should do nicely. You don't mind that he's single, do you? There wouldn't be any funny business with this one and this is short notice, you know." She pulled a cell phone from the pocket of her apron. "Peter? Good morning, sweetheart, how are you? Sniffles all gone? Wonderful!…Could I possibly impose on you for a teeny favor? Listen, did you see about that circus accident a couple of weeks ago?…Oh, I know, just awful! Well could you be a dear and put a bee in Bruce Wayne's bonnet about adopting the boy?…You will? Oh, you're just the best!…Now you're coming over for bridge this weekend and I'm not taking 'no' for an answer!…No, I'm not taking 'no' for an answer. 'Bye, honey." She made a check mark in the middle of the second page then looked over at the Graysons with a maternal smile. "There, that's taken care of. Anything else?"
John had his arm around Mary's waist, trying to hold her up. "What's taken care of?"
"Your son, Dick—he's being adopted or something by Bruce Wayne and should be out of Juvenile Hall in three days." She seemed ready to leave.
"Bruce Wayne? You can't mean that Bruce Wayne. I mean, you can't…"
"Oh please, dear, don't sputter. It's very unattractive. Of course I mean that Bruce Wayne; do you know any others? Besides, Dick will be taken care of, he'll have money and new career and everything will work out perfectly."
"A career? You mean he'll end up working for Wayne?" John couldn't imagine Dick in an office.
"Well, sort of yes. Now, let's get moving, we don't have forever you know—everyone up here thinks they can just dawdle and while away as much time as they'd like but we really need to wrap this up if it's all right with you."
"You said he's been there for a few weeks? But…"
"Time moves a bit differently up here, John, you must realize that. You've been dead almost a month now."
"But…"
Ann almost, but not quite, seemed annoyed. "Please pay attention and try to stay with me. You were killed almost a month ago in a fall off that silly trapeze, leaving your young son behind. There was a mistake and he was sent to Corrections—because you neglected to name a guardian in the event of your deaths, I must add and that was very neglectful of you, you know—I've arranged to have him taken in by a wealthy member of the Gotham community and that will set him up for life and also eventually give him a nice career. Not a bad day's work, if I say so myself." She favored them with a beatific smile.
"Um, what are we supposed to do now?" Mary was confused by the whole thing.
"Do? Well whatever you want, of course."
"But, were do we go?"
"Go? You mean like a house or something? We've arranged for you to have a very nice trailer over in the entertainer's section. You're right next to the Flying Wallenda's; lovely people and you'll enjoy them. Now, anything else?" Her cell phone rang again. "Charlie will show you and if there's a problem, just pick up the phone; I'm #1 on your speed dial." She answered her phone with a 'please hold, sweetheart'. "If you want to watch your son, turn on the TV, channel 9. All righty, I'll be in touch!" That was it, she was gone and while not exactly in a puff of smoke, that wouldn't be too far off.
Charlie, a teenager dressed as a kind of bellhop, slouched out from behind a tree. "Um, this way. You're new, right? It's okay here, you'll get used to it and Ann's okay after you get used to her. Circus performers, huh? Cool. Falling must have kinda sucked, but that's awesome. Okay, this is you." They were in front of a small trailer, identical to the one they had at Haly's until they opened the door and somehow the place was about 5,000 square feet. Well, whatever. "Okay, you need anything, just dial 'O' on the phone and it'll be cool. Later."
John stopped him, still a bit confused by everything. "What are we supposed to do here?"
"What, do? You're dead, do whatever you want. Hang out, make some new friends, chill, It's all good, dude."
John and Mary just looked at each other after he left then went to the enormous wall mounted TV screen and clicked on channel 9 with the remote. There was Dick, now ensconced in what could only be called a mansion and not one of those prefab ones, the real deal. He seemed sad or apprehensive, but considering what he'd been through, that was hardly surprising. There were Christmas decorations up and clearly more time had passed.
"Master Dick, I would appreciate you're making more of an attempt with your Brussels sprouts, if you don't mind."
"I hate them."
"We do not 'hate' anything, young man."
"I do."
There was a pause and a slight softening of the older man's expression. "Would French fries be more acceptable?" Dick gave him that smile which always melted his mother's heart and nodded. "Master Bruce will be home in about an hour and I would suggest you have your homework done by then as I believe he has a surprise in store for you."
The scene shifted to a dark and eerie cave but since Dick was wearing the same clothes, was probably the same night. Dick was there with the man who could only be 'Master Bruce' and John and Mary nervously glanced at one another. What was going on and what was this surprise for Dick that had him so excited?
"I've been pleased with the progress you've made and I think you're ready."
"Ready for what?" The child could barely contain himself, much as he was trying and John thought how like Dick it was for him to maintain a professional demeanor, no matter what.
"You're ready to help me find and catch the man who hurt your parents; if you want to, that is."
Dick's eyes were huge in his face, the brilliant blue more intense than usual under the artificial lighting as he nodded.
The man, Bruce Wayne, reached behind a computer consol, pulling what looked to be a large piece of fabric from it's hiding place, shook it out and placed an attached cowl on his head. "You're ready to become my partner and our first case together will be to bring your parent's killer to justice. If you're interested, that is." He flicked a light switch, illuminating an alcove behind them. There was a brightly colored costume on a child-sized mannequin.
Dick's eyes went even larger and he nodded.
"Your code name is 'Robin', if you agree."
"You're really Batman?" Dick looked at the other costume, clearly modeled after the colors in the Flying Grayson's working clothes. His expression was serious and he nodded again.
"John—no. He's still a baby. We have to stop this before he gets hurt."
He looked at the image of their son and the very strange man he'd now been tied to. "He needs this. He needs to avenge us to deal with his own pain, Mary. We'll let him do this and as soon as he finds our killer, we'll find a way to put a stop to it."
"Do you promise?"
"Promise.
TBC