"Ladies and Gentlemen, boys and girls, please direct your eyes skyward…" The voice of the ringmaster startled Dick Grayson back to reality.

Whoa Grayson, get with it, he chided himself. Lack of concentration can get you killed up here. He smiled as he realized that particular piece of advice had been pressed upon him repeatedly by both his fathers.

Dick grasped the bar with one hand and got ready for his cue.

Okay. Now

Just before he stepped out into the air something in the crowd caught his eye. Does that guy have a hook for a hand? And a gun? Nah, must be seeing things. Then he let all his thoughts fly away so that his muscles and gravity could do their job without waiting for his brain to catch up. He was dimly aware of a blur of red rushing toward him as he began to spin and spin and spin on a cushion of air.

BANG

What the hell was that? He wondered as he straightened his body and reached for the bar swinging toward him. His hands slapped the wood as they made contact and once his grip was secure he looked back over his shoulder.

Where was Boston?

He heard a scream from the audience. Then more screams as he arched his body and swung onto the platform in front of him. Looking down Dick saw a familiar red costume lying on the ground far below.

Oh no, no, no! Not again. Not this.

Dick wasn't aware of anything while climbing down from his perch. . The next thing he was conscious of was holding Boston's bleeding body almost the same way he had held his parents years ago.

"Boston? Boston, hang in there big guy. I got you."

Boston Brand opened one eye and smiled at Dick Grayson.

"I'll get him, Boston. I swear it. I'll get the guy that did this to you," Dick whispered. He was suddenly aware that Bruce was kneeling behind him and had placed his hands on Dick's shoulders.

"…know…you…will…kid," Boston gasped. Dick felt one more breath and then no more.

Boston Brand had passed on.

Dick placed the body gently down to the ground. He crossed Boston's arms and leaned back against Bruce.

Bruce let his arm drop from the Dick's shoulders to his forearms where they squeezed gently once. Then he crossed them around the boy's chest and held him while Dick Grayson cried for his lost friend.

Batman knew that having a personal stake in a case could sometimes be an asset but it was almost eerie how quickly Nightwing was able to solve this one. The boy had learned well. Still something was different and not just because of Brand or the circus. But he did not want to dwell on it. Dick was strong, he would go on.

The one thing that had rattled him was the Hook's confession. He had admitted to choosing Brand at random from a poster. A poster featuring both Brand and Dick.

"Didn't matter to me. Whichever one was the easier shot."

No one would ever know that this small time criminal had frightened Batman more than anything he had ever encountered in this dark troubled city.

The sooner this was in the past the better.

Bruce Wayne's subconscious however didn't seem to want to let it go. The night following Boston Brand's murder he had a dream…a nightmare that it had been Dick who had been shot. Over and over he watch the boy fall from the trapeze, bleeding from a bullet wound while he was helpless to do anything. Then he would awaken in his room and still believe that it was true. That Dick had been the one who died and he was alone in the dark.

He thought the dreams might stop once the case was wrapped up. He was wrong.

Vincent Baker aka The Hook was convicted of the murder of Boston Brand after Dick Grayson testified to seeing the suspect at the crime scene with the murder weapon.

It was an emotional day for Dick and he was surprised but pleased when Bruce had asked him to spend the night at the manor. Surprised because Bruce was even broodier than usual and Dick didn't think he had noticed how hard this one had hit him. Pleased because he needed comforting and it would be good to be home.

They didn't patrol that night, another surprise, but sat quietly together in Bruce's study. Dick figured that this was probably as much comfort as he was going to get. But I'll take it, he thought drowsily. And it was comforting to be here with Bruce nearby…Dick fell asleep on the sofa, snoring lightly.

Bruce allowed himself a moment to take in the young man's sleeping face before turning away and staring into the fire. This one was close. So close, he thought pensively. I told him it was a bad idea. Dick how can I protect you if you won't listen.

Bruce yawned. There was absolutely no reason for him to be tired. He was well rested. He had been fully functional after losing days of sleep many times before. Frowning Bruce decided maybe he would patrol tonight after all. In one minute he would get up and… Two minutes later he was unconscious and at the mercy of his dreams.

They were worse.

He held Dick in his arms but the boy didn't move. He was dead. All around him the lights in the circus tent began to go out one by one until he was in darkness. He held Dick's body close as sobs wracked his own when suddenly Dick vanished. He was alone in the dark with grief.

Suddenly a woman with long black hair and blue skin was standing before him.

"Bruce Wayne," she cried pointing at him in disgust. "You have been granted a second chance to be with your son and yet you waste it? Perhaps I will take him from you yet. Better he should die again and be of service to the goddess, Rama Kushna, than to waste his life with a man so utterly unworthy of his devotion."

As the goddess berated him Bruce realized he was dressed as Batman. What was happening? Where was Dick? What was this woman saying…Take him? Take Dick away from him again?

"No," he roared ripping the cowl off and confronting the goddess face to face. "You will not take him away from me. Do you hear me? YOU WILL NOT TAKE MY SON!"