The End
Dick was dying. There, Bruce had said it. It was nothing related to Robin or Nightwing, crime or heroics. He was just sick beyond the skill of doctors and science.
When Bruce looked at him he saw an eight year old boy smiling at him in ridiculous pixie boots, sparkling shorts and a canary yellow cape, cartwheeling towards villains cheerfully calling out, "Let's get 'em Batman!"
He saw a small form in pj's with his flashlight sneaking down into the Batcave then curling at his feet, dried tears smeared on his face. "I know it's past bedtime. Can I just keep you company?"
He saw a boy in soccer shorts tugging at his hand though he himself was dressed in a thousand dollar suit and scowling at the trials of the latest business deal. "Come play Bruce. You can be goalie!"
"You make me want to be a better person Dick," whispered Bruce to his grown son who he assumed was sleeping.
Dick was wearing an oxygen mask, his voice had been gone for a few days now and his eyes were closed but he wasn't sleeping. He signed sleepily. "Love you. Want to be better when loved."
Bruce smiled softly and looked up to Damian who was sat not far away. Damien was a young adult. Bruce and Damian were at odds but right now, for this, there was a truce.
Dick had never married. The last Grayson died peacefully.
There was no peace around him. Bruce Wayne was not the type to allow do not resuscitate orders. Damian Wayne could not be reasoned with and Lazareth pits and other desperate measures one after the other were tried and failed. Battles were waged over the right to efforts with the body. Eventually peace returned.
The brutalized shell that used to be Richard Grayson was cremated to stop the nonsense and restore peace. His ashes were scattered in the sky in the jet trail of the Batplane flown by a grime faced Batman himself.
The funeral was a dry eyed affair because it didn't seem real or permanent to anyone close to him.
Bruce dreamed of a smiling angel child with dark untameable locks and ocean blue eyes cartwheeling through the heavens on downy wings.
"I love you!"
Jason dreamed of the oddest family dinner ever. They were having rainbow jello with ice cream for dinner and everyone was wearing domino masks. Dick was a child cheerfully chanting to a room full of adults, "Please pass the jello. It's Jason's turn now. Please pass the jello. It's Tim's turn now. Please pass the jello. It's Damian's turn now. Please pass the jello. It Stephanie's turn now. Please pass the jello. …" There were a lot of other turns but Jason couldn't remember them all on waking. He could only remember that they were all together. They were passing the jello. Everyone was happy about it and did Dick have wings?
Tim dreamed he was on the rings doing gymnastics something he'd loved as a child but had not done in years. He dreamed he did Dick's quad and there was a flutter of feathers and he woke.
Damian dreamed the most annoying little angel kept giving him ghostly little butterfly kisses.
"I love you. Nope, I still love you. I stiiillll love you."
He woke up with a shout of, "STOP IT GRAYSON! YOU IDIOT!" In the dark that night he cried. For the first time in as long as he could remember he cried. He had a plane ticket booked back to the middle east for the morning. Damian wondered what Dick would have thought about what he was trying to do in the middle east.
Barbara dreamed of a small dark haired angel holding her up as she took her first steps walking again. "You can do it Babs!"
"You were never really for me, were you short pants…" whispered Barb when she woke.
Alfred had no dreams but the blasted feathers, every occupied room in the mansion. "Richard don't think I didn't hear the bells ringing that night you and Bruce caught Zucco saving his life rather than letting him fall to his death. It is not necessary to clutter up every room in the manor with careless moulting. I've known for years you were the answer to many a desperate prayer."
"ALFRED were you talking to me? I can hear you muttering," called Bruce from several rooms away.
"Oh no Master Wayne. Just an old man rambling on to himself."
The Justice League had braced for the backlash that was sure to come when the Bat clan finally accepted that Nightwing, the first Robin had passed but after the crazy fury shortly following his death things just settled down into an odd almost peace.
Clark Kent or rather Superman who'd always had a tendency to socially bumble a little, asked Bruce about it for Batman was mostly retired.
He got grunted at.
He asked Dick's brothers, he got a huff, a shrug and a scoff.
He asked Alfred. Alfred smiled mysteriously and offered him tea.
The Beginning
Gabriel and Michael looked down on Gotham. Bruce Wayne had been groomed to help turn Gotham around. This murder of his parents created a hiccup in the plans. There were rumours the devil had plans to revive his Red Hood scheme. Making crime and chaos a fashionable entertainment or exhibition. If ever there was a city in need of salvation it was Gotham.
"He's aiming towards vigilantism instead of politics now. Gotham needs an inspiring leader. We can't loose Bruce Wayne to vengeance. Vengeance is hate and hate is the devil's handmaiden," spoke Gabriel.
"I think we could make it work. Gotham needs a champion. A knight in shining armor," protested Michael. Michael loved a good battle. It forced a quick end to issues that tended to become long and drawn out.
"There is a taint on Bruce Wayne now. He has lost faith," argued Gabriel.
"His butler Alfred Pennyworth still has faith. He prays for him nightly. When the tragedy is less new, Alfred will draw him out of darkness," answered Michael but his voice lacked certainty.
It was at this point that Gabriel got beaned in the head with a soccer ball. "RICHARD!"
"I was told to play outside. What are you doing looking in the pond? Why is the water showing pictures? Who is the boy? Why is he punching the wall? Do you think he likes to play soccer?" Richard kicked his ball into the pond for the boy to play with. The scrying meditation was broken. Two senior angels were soaked and looked furious and Richard didn't notice because he was too busy pouting.
"The boy looked like he needed a friend. He didn't get the soccer ball. Maybe he'd have stopped frowning if he'd have gotten the soccer ball. That didn't work." Richard climbed into the pond to fetch his ball. He turned around with ball in hand and noticed the two Archangels glaring at him. Not having any other idea what to do, he grinned cheerfully. Everyone knew a smile could go a mile. "Hallo!"
Michael lost his frown and laughed. "Richard it may be you are right. A true friend is a blessing to any man." He kissed the small angel on the forehead and sent him off.
"A friend is not a replacement for family," protested Gabriel.
Bruce's world grew darker, more violent and more angry over the years. Gotham was falling further and further into darkness. Gabriel reported Bruce's first dreams of the Bat. The Bat was fear reigned down on the chaos. It was an iron fist to restore order by force. The Bat was not God's way but to a hurt and grieving child it might seem that smiting evil would be the cure for all.
Michael listened to Gabriel's report and his thought returned to Richard and his soccer ball that day a few years ago. Richard had been drawn to Bruce and heaven was rarely a place of coincidence. Michael had a sudden thought. How old was Richard?
As an archangel Michael just knew names for they were part of the nature of God's creations. He couldn't remember ever meeting Richard before that moment. He went to the hall of records to check. The answer to his inquiry astonished him.
"Gabriel! Richard is the answer," spoke Michael.
"What are you going on about?" asked Gabriel.
"Gotham, Bruce Wayne, Richard the young angel. He was told to go outside and play. Let me rephrase that. He was TOLD to go outside and play. That was the moment of his creation," spoke Michael.
"He… a newly created angel, an answer to prayer, to need?" Asked Gabriel.
"So many souls in Gotham pray and need. So much has been invested in Bruce."
"But if he's born now Bruce will be a young man before Richard grows into his angelic age of would you say he's seven or eight?"
Gabriel and Michael asked the small angel how old his form was to be for his beginning.
"Oh It's my birthday," explained Richard with a cheerful smile. "I'm going to be eight today."
So they prayed for understanding and a plan developed. The little angel would undergo many trials to prepare him to be Bruce's help mate. This would not be an easy road. The elder angels understood adversity but Richard was new and without experience. How was an angel, created to be a child at heart, to be the answer to Gotham and Bruce's need?
"Will I fly like you guys?" asked Richard.
"No," answered Gabriel. "Born to human form you will be human."
"Will I have God's might in my arms to smite evil?" asked Richard skipping and jumping happily beside Michael. "I've heard Gotham has great evils to be vanquished."
"No," answered Michael. "You will be human."
"I will be human! Sounds fun, but I'm still going to fly and I'm still going to smite evil. I'm just sure of it!" cheered Richard.
"Richard even if you earn your wings little one, while you are on earth, you will be human. God's gift, God's grace to you is the ability to love and hold onto hope even through the darkest adversity. That is all that is required of you," explained Gabriel with a gentle smile.
"Bruce does enough smiting for both of you put together," laughed Michael.
"I'm going to fly and I'm going to do some smiting. Bruce and I will do it together and it will be the greatest fun ever, ever, ever," insisted Richard fading from view as his human mother conceived him. His memories of heaven faded from consciousness replaced by the feeling of the warmth of the waters of life and the sound of the thrumming beat of his mother's heart.
The Middle
"Bruce?" asked the small boy who'd just come to live in Wayne Manor.
"Dick I promise. The nightmares will fade," Bruce gently ruffled his fingers through the crown of dark locks tangled in a disarray of restless sleep.
"They won't fade when I'm alone."
"Tell me about a beautiful dream you've had Dick. Focus on that for a while."
"I dreamed I saw you when you were my age. We were going to play soccer together."
"That does sound like a beautiful dream," answered Bruce in a deep soft voice trying to sooth Dick back to sleep.
"Then we ended up in the fountain in the garden. We got in trouble but not too much trouble just the right amount," answered Dick.
Bruce knew he'd not had a lot of time to for Dick. Was the boy relating a daydream wish that I had more time to play with him?