Not even a Twinkie high could last forever, and by two in the morning Dick was exhausted. Wally was beginning to have trouble avoiding yawns, as well, and in accordance with Bruce's insistence that his son's regular weekend bedtime be adhered to the pair headed to bed. The idea of the speedster sleeping in a guest room or on the floor never occurred to them; they saw each other so rarely that each moment was precious, and it was much easier to whisper and joke until they fell asleep if they were under the same covers.

Despite his advanced level of tiredness, however, Dick couldn't sleep. Once the older boy had passed out and begun to fill the room with quiet snoring, the younger stopped trying to join him and merely stared up at the ceiling. I wish I knew why I feel so mixed up about tonight, he mused. The show was great, like Wally said. The family act bothered me for the obvious reasons, but…what about the rest of it? The fact that some of the tricks they'd seen were completely new to him, he supposed, was part of it. …So I'm jealous? But I know how they did those moves, I could tell just from watching. With a little practice, I should be able to manage a pretty good imitation, at least. So there's no point in being jealous, really.

When that realization failed to quell the unnamed emotions that were making his chest tight, he gave a quiet sigh. I don't know what it is. I wish Bruce were home; he could help me figure it out. He glanced over at the slumbering redhead. Wally's no detective, but he'd at least lend a sympathetic ear. I don't want to wake him up, though. Alfred would listen, too, but he's probably asleep down in the den, waiting for Bruce to get home from his business thing. Crap.

Rolling noiselessly out of bed, Dick padded over to the window and crawled up onto the padded seat. Earlier, the sky had been obscured by a flat, gray blanket of clouds that not even a highly active imagination could have found anything interesting in. Since the end of the show, however, the cover had cleared off, leaving a vast starscape overhead. "…Whoa," the boy muttered. …Maybe that will help me think, he struck upon an idea. Glancing over his shoulder make sure that Wally was still unconscious, he slipped a sweater on over his pajamas and climbed out to the gently sloping roof, leaving the sash up just a crack so that he could get back inside.

The night air was comfortingly cool as he lay down and stared upwards. During his earliest weeks at the manor, Bruce had taken him up to the rarely-used third floor and let him look through the large telescope that resided there. One of the perks of their remote location, he had explained that night, was that there were no city lights to interfere with stellar viewing. I wonder why we haven't been back up there in such a long time, he pondered as he named the constellations he could see. Maybe he figures that since I had to memorize so many stars during my initial Robin training I'd be bored with it. But that telescope is cool. I should ask if we can go back up there sometime…

As entrancing as the tiny, distant lights were, though, they could only hold his attention for so long before his thoughts slipped back to his earlier quandary. Why? Why was I so unsettled by seeing new moves by other aerialists? He frowned, considering what he'd just said. New moves. Maybe…maybe that's it. Sitting up, he put his chin on his knees and gazed across the dark lawn towards the forest. New moves. Mom and dad had been all over the globe doing trapeze, so they must have known about every trick in the book. There aren't that many fliers in the world; even if we won't outright share a move we've developed, it's pretty hard to keep one completely secret for long. But I'd never even heard some of the things I saw tonight be described before, and mom and dad pounded info about trapeze into my head the way Batman pounds in villain profiles. What are the odds that they missed that many routines, let alone that one particular group of acrobats was holding on to them? Really low, I would think.

Shifting as the rough shingles dug into his backside, he tried to recall everything he'd read about the performance team from that evening. …They haven't even been around that long, he remembered. I think that one article I read said they were founded four years ago. So…right around the time they died. In that case, unless someone who joined them had a bunch of moves they'd been perfecting and keeping secret, there's no way mom and dad missed knowing about them. His face froze as he realized what was going on. …They didn't know about them, and couldn't tell me about them, because they didn't exist when they were alive. Those were tricks that got developed after they died. His eyes were suddenly heavy with tears. …Everyone moved on without them, just…just like I did. In another six months aerialists around the globe will probably be using some of the new stuff I saw tonight, if they aren't already. And then they'll come up with more new moves, other passes that mom and dad never heard about…

It was a hard thing to come to understand that, despite the great respect his parents' names had commanded in the acrobatics world at the time of their deaths, the community had moved on without them. Hot courses of liquid drove suddenly down his cheeks as he absorbed that fact. I should have known this would happen. I should have thought about the fact that aerialism would keep evolving, whether they were part of it or not. It hurts, though. It hurts to know that other people have picked up innovating where they left off, and that now they're doing things better, and prettier, and…and…and they aren't even here to see it, but they would have loved it. They could have done those tricks so perfectly

He dissolved into sobs, and that was how Wally found him a short while later; arms crossed over his head, eyes tight against his kneecaps, shaking with upset. Whoa, the speedster was taken aback when he spotted him through the window. "…Dick?" he asked, climbing out the window and reaching forward to touch his shoulder gently. "Hey, what's up?"

"W-wally?" came back, distraught eyes and a sad pout making the tiny stutter all the more heartwrenching as he looked over.

"Yeah, bro," the older boy threw an arm across his back and settled down beside him. "You okay?"

"'M sorry, I just…was thinking about the show tonight," he shook his head, trying to collect himself. "I didn't mean to wake you up."

"I only woke up because you weren't there. It kind of freaked me out a little. So…what's going on?"

"It's nothing," he whispered. "It's stupid."

"…Is it about your parents?" he guessed.

Ah, crap. "Y-yes," his tears renewed. A second long arm joined the first, and the redhead sat without speaking, simply holding him until he quieted again. "I just…I just realized something tonight, that's all," he explained slowly.

"What was it?"

"Well…you remember when I said there were some moves the aerialists did tonight that I'd never seen before?"

"Yeah?" he frowned.

"It was weird," he sniffled. "It was weird because we're all pretty up on which moves are popular at any given time, and who's working on what kinds of new stuff. I mean, there aren't a whole lot of professional aerialists out there, you know? We kind of keep in touch. Kept in touch," he corrected himself with a wince. "So, it wouldn't have been so strange if they'd had like one or two things I'd never seen before, but…there were a lot more than that. Some of it was stuff that I could tell was just an exaggeration of something I've done before, but some of it was totally new."

"So…that upset you?"

"Well, yeah. It did. It…it made me realize that…that everything's changed. I knew that, obviously, but I hadn't really thought about how it applied outside of my own world. But there are whole new sequences being performed that mom and dad never imagined, and...and someone else must have taken their place on the ladder, you know? They were two of the best, Wals, they really were, and…and I just never thought about the fact that other people would pick up where they left off, being amazing – being better than them, even – and coming up with all this new stuff, and…" He trailed off, wiping at his face. "Anyway, I…it just upset me. I'm okay now," he swallowed hard.

Yeah, you sound just fine, the teen scoffed mentally. "…Dude, you're a terrible liar when you're sad. Did you know that?"

Giving a choked little laugh, Dick dug his head in against Wally's shoulder. "Guess I'll have to work on it," he said quietly. "…And on some other things. If anyone is going to be the best aerialist in the world, it needs to be a Grayson. I can't just let their legacy die with them."

"…Are you kidding?" the older boy gaped. "You said that like you don't believe that you already are the best in the world."

"That one kid tonight was better than I ever was on a trapeze," he argued. "…And she looked younger than I was when…when I stopped."

But Wally was shaking his head in a violent denial. "No way. For one thing, I thought she was older than I am. Some people just look way younger than they really are. For another, I didn't see her, or anyone else for that matter, do a quadruple somersault the whole night. Did you?"

Dick glanced at him, a tiny grin drawing across his lips. "…No. She managed a triple, but she only did it once and she wasn't moving fast enough to have even thought about getting a fourth rotation in there."

"See? You do those like they're easier than walking, so…whatever. Don't get me wrong, it was an awesome show, but once you've seen Robin up close and personal, everything else kind of pales." He paused. "Besides, you already come up with new stuff all the time. I mean, how many of Robin's moves did you invent, or at least modify from something Batman taught you?"

"…Most of them," he admitted. "The aerial assaults, at least."

"And you're gonna work in some of that new stuff you saw, right?"

"Yeah. I've…I've got a few ideas already," he admitted.

"So what the heck are you worried about, bro? Seriously. I know it sucks that those people tonight can't ever know this, but…" He shrugged. "A Grayson still is the best aerialist in the world. I kind of doubt there was ever a lag there. I mean, the stuff you showed me the first night we met was easily as good as what those other people did, and it's not like you've gotten worse with practice."

"Yeah, but…I don't know. I guess part of it too was just…kind of missing the crowd. I feel selfish saying that, but…I remembered, watching them up there, what it felt like to hear all those people cheering for you." His face darkened. "…No one cheers for us, Wally, not really. People appreciate it when we save their lives or stop a bad guy, but they're just as quick to turn on us if they think we did something wrong. Even if it was something we had to do to get the job done, the public doesn't see that. Do you know what happens when an aerialist has to go to net during a performance?"

"…No. What happens?"

"Well, I've only seen it a couple of times, but…there's this big gasp, because even with the net there you…you never know it's going to hold." He gulped, shoving away bad memories in order to finish his story. "…And then, when they sit up and wave to show that they're okay, everyone in the audience claps and cheers. Even if the performer didn't get a single move completed, everybody claps, because they're okay, and because they at least tried something that ninety-nine percent of the people in the audience never could." He shook his head. "You try to entertain, and you fail, and people clap. You save lives, and maybe you didn't even really fail, but your name gets spat on by the very people you risk your skin to protect anyway." A heavy sigh escaped him. "I…I just miss being the one everyone's cheering for sometimes."

"I know it isn't much, but…I'm always cheering for you," the redhead told him quietly. "And you know Bruce is, and Alfred, and Superman, and probably everyone else in the JLA. We're not a whole crowd or anything, but…we think you're pretty awesome. Even if you are kinda short," he teased.

Dick laughed. "Yeah, yeah, I'm a midget. I get it, thanks." He fell silent for a minute. "…But seriously, Wally. Thanks. I…I don't feel like I even need other friends when I'm with you."

"Yeah, I'm pretty fantastic," he smirked.

"I see you haven't hurt your ego on patrol recently."

"Nope. And whenever I need a boost, I just come hang out with you."

"You say that now. Let's see how your ego is after I kick your butt playing Halo tomorrow after breakfast."

"Is that a challenge?"

"That's a threat."

"If the pair of you don't get to bed, you won't be awake to play anything until after lunch," a deep but unusually soft growl interrupted them. They turned, still huddled together, to find Bruce standing in the window with his arms crossed. "It's almost four in the morning. That's even past your bedtime, Wallace." He'd slipped into the bedroom to check on the boys just as Wally was settling down next to Dick outside, and upon hearing them talking had decided to eavesdrop. I knew something about his parents was likely to be triggered by tonight's show, he'd sighed as his son expounded on his feelings. I'm sorry, kiddo. I wanted to be there for this very reason… Still, though, he had to admit that the other child did an admirable job of comforting him by simply listening. Thank you, Wally. Letting him tell you who he is in real life may have been one of the best decisions I've made.

Wally cringed at the use of his full name. "…Sorry."

"Yeah, sorry," Dick nodded. "It was my fault, not Wally's. I'm the one who climbed out onto the roof."

"I'll let it slide this time," the billionaire said as they slid back into the room. "But only because you left me a Twinkie."

"…We left you five, actually," his son stated, stopping beside him as the speedster tumbled back into bed.

Bruce glanced between them a bit suspiciously. "...Is something wrong with them?" he frowned.

"No. We just didn't think it was fair to eat all but one of the last Twinkies that may ever enter the house."

"You know they're bringing them back, right?"

"Sure. But what if the new company changes the recipe?"

The man blanched, clearly not having considered that. "…It wouldn't be the first time a buy-out led to changes in a signature item," he confessed. "…When did you become a corporate strategy expert, anyway?"

"The key word in that question is strategy," Wally threw in from halfway across the room. "He's, like, the new Napoleon. His plan was what got us past Alfred to the Twinkies."

"I've even got the height to be a new Napoleon," Dick said bashfully. "…But I don't think I'd be a very good dictator."

"Let's keep it that way," Bruce ruffled his hair. "And you'll be taller than Napoleon before too much longer. Just do me a favor; if you get yourself banished to an island, try and make it a tropical one. I'd hate to have to come visit you in, say, Svalbard. That's a bit colder than I prefer my vacation destinations to be. Now," he gave him a proud smile, turning slightly so that it wasn't visible from the bed. "Go to sleep," he cupped his cheek briefly. "Alfred agreed to make a big brunch at eleven. I'll see you both then."

"…Brunch?" Wally perked up.

"Eleven," the billionaire said firmly from the doorway. "Goodnight, boys."

"Night," they replied simultaneously.

"…Hey, Wally?" Dick ventured a moment later as he snuggled in next to him.

"Mm-hmm?"

"Do you really think I'm like Napoleon?"

"I can't name a single plan of yours that hasn't worked out. So…yes. You're a…what do you call it…a double threat. Acrobatics and tactics, that's you."

"I don't think Napoleon was an acrobat," the younger boy yawned.

"Well, I guess that makes you better than him, you compliment whore."

"'Compliment whore?' And I was going to let you win a couple rounds when we play later, too," he grinned, poking him in the ribs. …I feel a lot better now. Thanks, Wals.

"We'll see who lets who win. I've been practicing."

"Oh, well, if your Halo playing is as good as your stealth, now…"

"Ooh, low blow. What about my ego?"

"Hey, Wally?"

"Yeah, bro?" A small fist popped up above the covers, hovering as it waited for its other half. The redhead grinned, then bumped it lightly. "…Okay, okay. My ego is sated." Hell, whose wouldn't be, with you as a best friend? I must be doing something right to have earned that label.

"Good. Let me know if you need another one. I've got an unending supply." He smiled in the dark. "But don't worry. I'll save them all for you."

Author's Note: I hope you all enjoyed a little romp with our favorite bros! 'Causalities' will pick up again tomorrow, for those of you following that story. Happy reading!