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ThatHydrokinetic: I hope this lives up to your expectations!


chapter 4

The reactions his words caused were almost comical. The moment they left his mouth, the attention of the four occupants in Bruce's study snapped to him-their expressions varying from shock to guilt and, in the elderly man's case, unbridled curiosity.

But Dick's topped them all. "B-Bruce!" the boy stammered out, as he instinctively leaped from his spot on the over-stuffed sofa...only to be force to bend at the waist in a mad scrambled to catch a multitude of papers, which had been seated on his lap, from falling to the floor. They seemed to be...letters. And to judge from the coloring of them, they were old letters at that.

"I didn't-I mean...your home!"

"Yes I'm home," Bruce agreed, privately thinking that if his son couldn't tell that a person was coming until they announced it, then Batman and Robin would to have a particularly concentrated training session on Detection and Sensatory Awareness in the near future. But back to the matter at hand...there were two total strangers in his house.

One was a attractive young girl only a few years older than Dick, and that alone sent off a barrage of red flags in Bruce's mind. But he was quick to dismiss those theories upon observing her shy, nervous disposition and the well mannered way she held herself.

The other was an older man well into his eighties, too old to be considered a physical threat-providing that he was a normal man, and not some long lived villain along the lines of Ra's Al Ghul. But even if he was just an ordinary mortal man, there was a fiercely intelligent gleam in his eyes as they observed him. This man was clever. And judging by the similarity in their eye shape and color, he was a relation of the girl.

Careful to keep his posture non-threating, Bruce stroved into the den in an unhurried manner. Allowing a polite look of interest to cover his face and his suspicions, he calmly said, "But I wasn't aware that we were having company his afternoon. Dick are these your guests?"

Smiling sheepishly, one of Dick's hands reached up to grip the back of his head in his normal nervous habit.

"Um, yeah you could say that-but in my defense," the boy added quickly, as he guardian let out a disapproving breath threw his nostrils -for security reasons, Dick wasn't allowed to have guests over without informing Bruce- "I didn't plan this. Heck, I've never even seen them before today...they kinda sprung this on me...but Alfred gave me the go-ahead."

Despite the situation, that admittedly caused Bruce's lips to twitch. Oh, throwing Alfred under the bus are you kiddo? That going to cost you at least two nights worth of dessert. Out loud, he asked, "Is that true Alfred?"

To judge from the raised eyebrow of the mention butler, Alfred didn't much care for being thrown into the spotlight at all, despite being a ex-theater man. After giving his youngest charge a surprisingly dignify stink eye, Alfred cleared his throat and stood to help Dick collet his papers. Yes, now that Bruce was closer, he could positively assess that they were in fact letters, some dating as far back as 1937...did Dick have some sort of history project due that he wasn't aware of? Not that that convincingly explain the presences of the mystery guests.

"I must confess that it is Master Bruce," Alfred confirmed flatly, though his eyes gleamed. "Though I assure you that the circumstances under which I gave may permission were so extraordinary, I could do nothing else." Bruce raised a questioning brow, and motioned for him to continued.

So on cue, Alfred turned to the guests, and nodded at each of them in turn. "May I present Master Elijah Goldson and his granddaughter Esther-" Bruce immediately noted slight huff of amusement the man-Goldson-released at the title Alfred bestowed upon him. It wasn't mockery-just amusement. And perhaps a bit nostalgic.

Meanwhile Alfred continued. "And the reason they have been cordially invited to our home is that nearly sixty years ago...Master Elijah was a member of Master's Dick's family."

And just like that, Bruce could feel that small, polite smile vanish from his face as though it had never been there.


Y+J

"Excuse me?" Bruce said sharply, his softer approach dissolving. Even as Esther jump in her seat at his change in tone, Bruce was fixing her grandfather with stare that was only a few degrees lesser than the Bat Glare. "What proof do you have of this?"

The time for fun and games was long over, because if one thing had remained the same throughout the ages, it was the conveniently time appearance of long lost relatives of wealthy people. In the early years after the death of Thomas and Martha Wayne, Bruce had dealt with no less than five low-life conmen impersonating illegitimate half-siblings, cousins, and a great uncle.

Oh, each and every act had been kicked to the curve in under ten minutes, but the sheer audaciousness of it left a bitter tast in Bruce's mouth, even to this day.

And the though that someone might be trying to do that to Dick caused a cold, blind fury to rise within him.

But Goldson didn't cower. Matter of fact...he almost seemed pleased by his newly hostile front, humming in approving way. While this was happening, Dick quickly came forward.

"It's good Bruce," his boy told him hurriedly, his blue eyes wide and imploring. "It not a hoax or anything like that. I know it's not. Their telling the truth. Elijah really did know my family. The things he knows, and the things he been telling me-"

"What things Dick?" Bruce demanded to know in as rational a tone as he could managed. "What things does he know? What has he been telling you?"

What has he been filling your head with? That was what Bruce was really asking. And everyone in the room knew it. And if one was to go by his rapidly flushing face, Dick did not appreciate having his judgment question like this.

"Well for one thing, I'm apparently the descendant of World War Two camp survivors," he shot back hotly.

"What?"


Y+J

Ever since Bruce had taken up the mantle of the Cape Crusader, he could count on one hand the number of times he was totally and completely caught off guard. And he remembered them all...the most memorable of them being the day a certain little bird wormed his way into his heart.

And this came close to trumping even that. Realizing that his mouth was hang open, he quickly closed it.

Elijah Goldson took advantaged of the moment, and rose gradually to his feet with the assistance of his granddaughter.

"Thank you Essie," he murmured lovingly to her before straightening up and clearing his throat.

"Mr. Wayne," he said formally, looking him dead in the eyes, and extending his hand in a peaceful gesture. "I understand that you are young Dick's guardian, and because of that it does me good to see just how much you truly care for him. That takes a heavy burden off my shoulders...at my age, they could not have held it for long. I understand that my presence here is...unexpected to say the least. So I will make some things perfectly clear: I swear on the soul of my mother that the last thing I want to do is hurt this boy in any way, shape or form.'

'Though I can claim no blood relation to him, I nevertheless see him as a part of my family, as much so as Esther. Sixty years ago, I was the closest friend of his grandfather...together we survived the worst hells ever placed on this earth...hells that devoured both of our families whole. Two in my case. Please...come and sit, and I will explain further...you'll pardon me, but it's hard for a old geezer to stay standing for very long."

Bruce stared at Elijah, open mouthed again. Every word that Goldson had spoken had rung with truth. As both of Bruce's lives depended on him being able to weed out liars, he knew one when he saw it, and he knew this.

Whatever Goldson was...he was no liar.

Or if he was, he was a very good one.

But Dick was watching him intensely, as was Alfred. Both of them clearly believed what was being told to them, and neither of them were easily fooled. So for now, Bruce decide to go along with them before coming to a decision on how to proceed.


Y+J

"So what's all this then?" Bruce asked as he sat in an armchair, gesturing to the mess on the coffee table.

"This, Mr. Wayne, is all that remains of a lost way of life," Goldson replied in a softer, almost delicate tone. Reaching out, he caressed a few papers as gently as he would a baby. "After the War-after the camps-me and Rikárd traveled all over Europe-well, all over the Europe we could reach before the Iron Curtain split the continent- colleting the letters and pictures that the Grayson family sent out over the years. We had to find them; they were the sole remaining proof that they had existed at all, besides Rikárd and myself. I'll also admit that it was somewhat therapeutic for us...a-a way of trying to cope with the fact that they were gone..."

Goldson broke off here and looked away suddenly, blinking hard. "I am so sorry," he muttered. "I have only ever spoken of this to a few people, and it never gets any easier. Forgive me."

"Oh Saba," Esther whispered sadly.

Alfred immediately retrieved a tea kettle from the fire place, and hasten to fill a cup.

"You have nothing to apologize for sir," he said feelingly, as he handed the drink to Elijah. "And believe me, none of us will judge you for any tears you happen to shed...if there is one thing the people of this household understand, it is the lingering pain which loseing loved ones can cause."

Goldson paused and considered that; his face growing thoughtful as he ran his emerald gaze over Dick and Bruce, seeing the evidence of this statement for himself. "Yes...I supposed they do."

Bruce felt a good deal of his skepticism diminish at the note of simple compassion in the elderly man's voice. Not pity, not sympathy, but complete and total empathy at it's finest. Few people were that good an actor. And all of the paper seemed authentic, to his critical eye.

Which meant everything he said could very well be true.

Bruce wasn't sure how he felt about that, after all...what would that mean for Dick?

"Now then, I think I've had enough time for silliness," Elijah said, wiping his face dry with his hand. "Now back to our original purpose..."

With that Goldson removed from the safety box an portfolio case-an old leather one, the name Janos Grayson carved neatly into it's front.

Dick's breath hitched, and Elijah smiled as he removed some of the contends from its folds. Photos-a great number of black and white photos, and a stack of thick, equally antique notebooks.

"This is your grandfather's family Dick Grayson," the old man said, as he plucked out a few select pictures and leaned forward so they all could see. Dick was all but out of his seat.

"These fine people were his parents- Dymitr and Zoya. God rest their souls," Elijah commentated lovingly, placing on the table a photo of a young couple in their early twenties. The man was a towering figure, tall and muscular in a way that spoke of a life time of hard work. He was a handsome fellow too, with noble features that spoke of keen intelligent and firm convictions.

His wife made just as powerful an impression, though in a slightly different way. She was so beautiful it almost hurt to look at her image, with her dark exotic eyes, high cheekbones, and a waterfall of thick raven tresses that tumbled down her shoulders. Her stance was gentler than her husband's, but no less certain, give the proud tilt to her chin. They were seated before a horse pulled wagon, in what appeared to be winter, given the snow on the ground.

"They were wonderful people who work for everything they had, and wonderful parents too. They loved their children more than anything else in this world. And they had enough of that love to extended it to a miserable Jewish boy who came crawling to them for protection when the Germans rolled into town," Goldson chough then, and chuckled grimly. "Well, truthfully Rikárd and his brother all but dragged me to their wagon step by step...and Jan had to threaten to knock me unconscious and stuff me into a sack. And he would have to."

He pulled out another picture, this one a close up of the oldest boy from the first photo he had show earlier that day. It's subject was up in a tree, lazily stretch like a cat, one leg folded over the other. His face was turned to whomever had taken the image, reveling a good looking young man with no small amount of charm in his features, as he was forever tilting his hat to the camera. Resting on his lap was a notebook...one of the very notebooks that rested against Elijah's side.

"Jan was the oldest of us kids, so the role of "I'll protect you whether you like it or not" often fell to him. And admittedly, he was a very good protector, a good big brother...but he was a God-awful role model when it came to girls." Here Goldson snorted fondly. "Janos Grayson was a world-class ladies killer fit to put Don Juan to shame. He had more experience at sixteen then most men have by time their twenty. More than once he blew Rikárd and I off to go lollygagging with some long legged blond. I don't know how to explain it, but he needed girls...he needed the physical contact."

Elijah eyes suddenly gleamed with mischief. "...and seeing how young Dick was mooning over that pretty red-head at his school, I'd say he inherited that trait. If that be the case than you have my pity Mr. Wayne, for I remember well the pains and hassles his parents went through in dealing with Jan."

Bruce groaned and dropped his head into his hand, muttering "Great," even as Dick went beet red with mortification, sputtering unintellialbe noise.

"Well it seems that we have a few interesting years ahead of us," Alfred said dryly.

Elijah chuckled again, this time a little more light-heartily, took a deep sip of his tea. "Of course, there was more to Janos than just the notches on his belt," he commented, setting his drink down. "He was also a talented artist," with that, Goldson handed over that notebook...which quickly proved to be a sketch book. "...see for yourself."

By this point, Dick had left his seat behind him and was kneeling beside the table. He took the sketch book eagerly; pouring over it's contains with an almost greedy eye.

"Wow..." was all he could say. His relative's drawings were amazing-beyond amazing. Though there were some landscape sketches, and portraits of people, anthropomorphism animals were the dominating theme; their characteristics hilarious exaggerated. Fat pigs for bankers, a swan ballerina, a tomcat burglar-that made Dick snort-and much, much more.

"Jan got into drawing way back in 1928, after he saw Steamboat Willie in the moivehouse...he dreamed and talked about going to America someday and working for Walt Disney," Elijah said proudly...before his smile disappeared. "But of course...things didn't work out that way. Not for any of us."

With deliberate speed now, a third photograph was slapped down. This once was of that mid-teen girl. Her picture had been taken while she had been performing a spirited twirl, a tambourine held high in the air, with masses of black hair flying around her beaming face.

"This was Soraya, the second born and the only girl in the family," Goldson disclosed in a hushed tone. " As you can see, this girl clearly took after her mother in teams of beauty. My Miriam was her dearest friend, and when they would walk down the street, people would stop and stare. They called them Snow White and Rose Red. And believe me, Raya's personality lived up to that title. She was open-hearted and gracious -she would spend hours comforting people who had been outcaste from their villages due to poverty, sickness, or madness. But make no mistake...she was a Grayson, and if you crossed her, there would be hell to pay. That was a trait she shared both her brothers...and they got it from their father."

Now Goldson fell silent, and seem almost...lost for an instant. His mouth moved, but no words came out. Slowly, ever so slowly...he put the last picture down.

"And this was Rikárd, at the age I first knew him..."


Reviews make me happy so tell me what you thought and I'll update sooner!

Okay, what do you think of the Grayson Family so far? Do they seem like legit characters? I tried to incorporate some of Dick's traits into each of them, but still keep them unique. Also...how am I handling the subject matter? Needless to say it is dark stuff. Am I doing a good job with it?

P.S...I hope you got a laugh out of how Elijah made fun of how Dick might be like his Uncle Jan when it came to girls.