Catch Me When I Fall
By Kat
Disclaimer: Nightwing and other characters belong to DC comics. Be nice, don't sue.
City lights burned bright, masking the shadowy back alleys. The orange glow suffused into the night sky, swallowed up in the great black mouth. It caught on a few wispy clouds, which were hung delicately in the darkness. The cars were like fireflies, crawling sluggishly on the branched roads. The shadows darted between each light, concealing any who wished not to be seen.
One such figure flitted from rooftop to rooftop, smooth and supple, slipping sleekly through shadow. His muscles tensed and relaxed as they pulled his body through the air. The mask over his eyes lent his face a slightly cruel look, its points and lines reflecting those of the blue insignia across his chest. Crow's-feather hair whipped in the wind.
Atop a tall block of flats stood another figure. In direct contrast to the other this one wore a white T-shirt, picked out brightly in the lights. This small boy had crept up the stairs from his home below, seeking the freedom of the open roof. Small trainers slid in the mud that had collected at the edges of the roof. Their owner stretched out his arms, catching the nearby vent to steady himself. In doing so, his eye fell upon the low wall at the roof edge. Hearing the night sounds of the streets underneath, he was compelled to peer over the edge to see. Standing on tiptoe, the boy found that he was too small to see over. Scrambling up, he was soon crouching on the wall, entranced by the scene below. Cautiously, he stood up, holding his arms out for balance. The mud on his sole came between the wall top and the grip of his trainers. In a swift, sudden moment he fell, vanishing from the rooftop.
Nightwing saw the white fluttering shape out of the corner of his eye, and turned his head. In an instant, he threw himself after the plummeting shape. Arrowing his body, he began the desperate race against time to reach the boy. The small hands reaching up for his triggered an old memory in the young hero.
Rehearsals in the big top. Below, the elephants walked through their act. The sawdust under their feet sent up a rich smell, which mingled with the animals' own. The Flying Graysons swung from their trapezes, practicing their moves for the evening's performance. Dick Grayson, the child of the family, somersaulted into his father's arms. Large hands closed around his, plucking him from the air. Hands that he thought would always be there for him.
Now it was his hands doing the catching. The child's face, white and terrified, looked up at his. The child's hands opened and closed, panicking.
His father's hands as he fell. One clutching his mother's, the other outstretched in a futile effort. Both his parents lying on the ground, hands still joined. A different, paternal, pair of hands resting on his shoulders. Bruce's.
He drew closer to the falling child, even as they both fell faster towards the ground. Nightwing stretched out his arms as far as he could.
On the Gotham rooftops, training with Batman. The caped figure encouraging him, holding out his black-gloved hands.
"I'll catch you if you fall," came the promise.
Black and blue-gloved hands wrapped around the other, smaller, hands. The boy was clutched closely as a jumpline shot out to wrap around a support. Childish tears dripped onto dark Kevlar as the boy was carried to the worried arms of his mother. The boy's saviour vanished again, words echoing in his mind.
"I'll catch you when you fall."
~END~
By Kat
Disclaimer: Nightwing and other characters belong to DC comics. Be nice, don't sue.
City lights burned bright, masking the shadowy back alleys. The orange glow suffused into the night sky, swallowed up in the great black mouth. It caught on a few wispy clouds, which were hung delicately in the darkness. The cars were like fireflies, crawling sluggishly on the branched roads. The shadows darted between each light, concealing any who wished not to be seen.
One such figure flitted from rooftop to rooftop, smooth and supple, slipping sleekly through shadow. His muscles tensed and relaxed as they pulled his body through the air. The mask over his eyes lent his face a slightly cruel look, its points and lines reflecting those of the blue insignia across his chest. Crow's-feather hair whipped in the wind.
Atop a tall block of flats stood another figure. In direct contrast to the other this one wore a white T-shirt, picked out brightly in the lights. This small boy had crept up the stairs from his home below, seeking the freedom of the open roof. Small trainers slid in the mud that had collected at the edges of the roof. Their owner stretched out his arms, catching the nearby vent to steady himself. In doing so, his eye fell upon the low wall at the roof edge. Hearing the night sounds of the streets underneath, he was compelled to peer over the edge to see. Standing on tiptoe, the boy found that he was too small to see over. Scrambling up, he was soon crouching on the wall, entranced by the scene below. Cautiously, he stood up, holding his arms out for balance. The mud on his sole came between the wall top and the grip of his trainers. In a swift, sudden moment he fell, vanishing from the rooftop.
Nightwing saw the white fluttering shape out of the corner of his eye, and turned his head. In an instant, he threw himself after the plummeting shape. Arrowing his body, he began the desperate race against time to reach the boy. The small hands reaching up for his triggered an old memory in the young hero.
Rehearsals in the big top. Below, the elephants walked through their act. The sawdust under their feet sent up a rich smell, which mingled with the animals' own. The Flying Graysons swung from their trapezes, practicing their moves for the evening's performance. Dick Grayson, the child of the family, somersaulted into his father's arms. Large hands closed around his, plucking him from the air. Hands that he thought would always be there for him.
Now it was his hands doing the catching. The child's face, white and terrified, looked up at his. The child's hands opened and closed, panicking.
His father's hands as he fell. One clutching his mother's, the other outstretched in a futile effort. Both his parents lying on the ground, hands still joined. A different, paternal, pair of hands resting on his shoulders. Bruce's.
He drew closer to the falling child, even as they both fell faster towards the ground. Nightwing stretched out his arms as far as he could.
On the Gotham rooftops, training with Batman. The caped figure encouraging him, holding out his black-gloved hands.
"I'll catch you if you fall," came the promise.
Black and blue-gloved hands wrapped around the other, smaller, hands. The boy was clutched closely as a jumpline shot out to wrap around a support. Childish tears dripped onto dark Kevlar as the boy was carried to the worried arms of his mother. The boy's saviour vanished again, words echoing in his mind.
"I'll catch you when you fall."
~END~