Author's Note: This piece is set after Pop Haly's death, when Dick has inherited the circus. Happy reading!

The inside of the Big Top could be best described with a single word; bright. Every corner was illuminated by spotlights and fairy trails. The metal risers still glinted with near-newness, although their first season of use had given them a few battle scars. Far overhead, the tent fabric's fat red and green stripes stretched upward like Yuletide trails to the stars. Even the sawdust in the ring seemed to glitter, and Bruce wondered if it had been mixed with tinsel for this special occasion.

"What do you think?" an uncharacteristically nervous voice asked from his right. Turning, Bruce found his eldest child chewing on his lip and taking everything in. "Maybe we should have put decorations up in here, huh?"

"Dick..." Reaching out, Bruce grabbed his son's wrist and pulled him down to sit beside him on the bleachers. "Sit here, and look out at that, and imagine you're one of the Foundation kids who are coming tonight. Then tell me if you could possibly be any more excited if there was garland wrapped around the handrails."

A tiny smile appeared, and the younger man's jitters seemed to vanish. "No. I guess they're probably about ready to explode with excitement as it is."

"That's basically what Janice said when I spoke to her a couple of days ago." Janice Yarbrough was the Experiences Coordinator for the Wayne Foundation's Youth Assistance division, and both Bruce and Dick had been in close contact with her over the last four months. While the idea of having Haly's Circus perform a special Christmas Eve show for Gotham's underprivileged youth had been one hundred percent Dick's, the billionaire had taken a special interest in it. He hadn't interfered with the planning – his son was more than capable of coordinating a project like this on his own – but he had discreetly checked in with Janice from time to time.

Dick arched an amused eyebrow. "Been speaking to Janice a lot, have you?"

"Mm. The normal amount, I suppose."

"I had no idea you called her on a weekly basis before this whole project started. Should I start calling her 'mom'? Because she's not that much older than me, so it's going to be kind of awkward."

Dick was joking, but Bruce shook his head and answered seriously. "No. It's not like that."

"I think it's more than you just trying to help in your own way, Bruce."

"...I thought we were talking about you," Bruce countered. "You and Christmas decorations and tonight. What happened to that?"

"We're still talking about it. But now we're talking about the part where you're so into it that you've been calling Janice and are now sitting inside an empty tent a full hour before the kids arrive." A beat passed. "So what about that, Bruce?"

Bruce sighed. He had come out here specifically so that Dick wouldn't notice his pensive mood, but he should have known better than to think he could duck under the radar on a night like this. His boy was highly attuned to emotions – super-attuned, Clark would argue – at the best of times, and with the circus pitched on the front lawn of Wayne Manor on Christmas Eve that sensitivity was cranked up to maximum. Disappearing from the house, Bruce realized, had been the most obvious thing he could have done.

Still, this wasn't the time to share the worries he'd been wrangling with all week. They were too dark, and he didn't want to taint the eager joy that Dick was radiating. "Let's talk about it later. Not now."

"But tonight?" Dick pressed.

"Tonight," Bruce nodded. "Afterwards, when everyone's gone. We'll talk then. Right here. Okay?"

Dick watched him for a long moment. "Okay. So long as it isn't something that will keep you from enjoying the show."

"It isn't," he lied. "I promise."

Another smile. "Great. Then I'll see you later; I have to go check on some things before the world goes crazy."

Bruce stared after Dick until he disappeared outside. "Sometimes, chum," he murmured when he was alone, "I think the only thing in this world that isn't already crazy is you..."

Wayne Manor had hosted more fetes and galas than anyone could remember, but it had never before been ground zero for something like this.

Two retired policemen, both recommended by Jim Gordon as trustworthy men with sharp eyes, stood guard at the tall gate that separated the estate's long, curving drive from the highway. Their job was to check the credentials of the many buses and passenger vans ferrying children up from the city and to put the few members of the press who had been granted access to tonight's event through rigorous questioning before allowing them onto the grounds. The newsfolks complained, but not seriously. None of them wanted to lose a rare opportunity to stand in the shadow of Bruce Wayne's family seat.

The approach to the house was soon lined with vehicles of all descriptions. Children poured out of them and swarmed towards the sights and sounds of the circus midway. Their delighted squeals carried in the chilly winter air and echoed back off the mansion, whose glowing windows looked down on the scene like some massive, turreted sentinel. The adult chaperones hustled after them, staring around all the while at the private park they had never dreamed they might someday be invited to.

Dick was covering the circus' expenses for this trip so that everything could be made free for the attendees. Each child received a strip of ten tickets, which they could use for whatever they wanted. Games, food, fortune telling; nothing cost more than a single tag. The smallest visitors thronged the pony rides and the ring toss. Groups of adolescent boys elbowed each other for a chance to knock over heavy old milk bottles with a ball or to race through the House of Mirrors. Their female peers followed the smell of incense to the booths of the Tarot and palm readers, then sat down for henna tattoos and shared what they'd learned about their futures. Everyone, regardless of age or gender, stood in line to choose between candied apples, peanuts, cotton candy, and popcorn.

And then, just before seven o'clock, the crowds outside began to thin as everyone trickled into the Big Top. Bruce returned from stretching his legs and checking the back side of the house – he knew how sneaky the reporters that had been invited could be, and didn't want them snooping around any more than necessary – just in time to catch Tim and Damian at a side entrance. "Did Dick tell you if we're supposed to sit somewhere in particular?" Tim asked.

"No. But follow me; I know a spot." Bruce led them a short distance away, then climbed halfway into the stands and sat down in the same place he'd been when he'd spoken to Dick earlier in the evening.

Damian frowned. "Why here? I don't want to be right in the middle of everything. We're going to be surrounded by kids."

"It's a decent enough view," Tim shrugged as he took a seat beside Bruce. "And you're going to be surrounded by children no matter where you sit."

"…Whatever." With that, the pre-teen turned away.

"Where are you going?" Bruce called him back.

"To find Grayson."

"He's busy. Sit down."

"He said I could tag along with him tonight if I wanted!"

Bruce hesitated. He wouldn't put it past Dick to have said exactly that to his youngest brother, but it also wasn't difficult to believe that Damian would make something up in order to escape sitting with the rest of the family. "…Go ahead, then. But I'll be checking with Dick after the show to make sure he really offered."

"Fine. He'll back me up." And with that, Damian stomped off.

"What a freaking sourpuss," Tim muttered. "I don't know how he's not having fun tonight. This is amazing. I feel like I'm four years old again."

Bruce flinched. He'd forgotten that the last time he'd been inside a circus tent not only Dick but a very young Tim had been present. Both had been unknown to him at the time, but that didn't matter. "Dick did a good job putting this together," he said in an attempt to dissemble his reaction.

"He did." Neither spoke for a second. "Nice new bleachers."

"Dick bought them at the beginning of the season. The tent's new, too, just for tonight."

"I know. He told me. I'm surprised he didn't buy a bigger one, though, or more seats for that matter. I think they're in the exact same configuration they were the last time I went to a Haly's show. Funny, huh?"

"Yeah. Funny."

"That makes it easy to pick a seat, at least. You know…if you wanted to sit where you'd sat before."

Bruce recognized Tim's hinting tactic as one that Dick used regularly. "If you're trying to get at something, Tim, make it quick," he advised. "We're still relatively alone right now, but that won't last."

"You're sitting where you sat that night, aren't you? The night his parents died."

The billionaire's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "…Did Dick say something to you?"

"He asked me to keep an eye on you, that's all. What clued me in is where you chose to sit just now. Damian didn't want to be in the middle of the crowd, and normally you wouldn't want to be, either. The only thing I could think was that you went incognito that night, and sat in a spot like this one so you could blend in and not get spotted by the paparazzi. Now…now this spot has significance for you. This is where you watched it happen. This is where you watched them...watched them die. Am I right?"

"…You're not wrong."

"You know tonight won't be like that, right?"

Bruce turned and studied his third son's face. "What do you mean?" A spear of worry drove through his stomach. "…Tim, if Dick is planning something – some unannounced trapeze act or something like that – I need you to tell me right now." If his eldest was going up on the wires tonight, he couldn't watch from here. The stress would make his heart explode.

"He's not planning anything, at least not that I'm aware of. I'm just saying that this is totally different than before. That's all. All of the equipment's been locked up behind the gate for days, and I saw Dick check everything about eighteen times besides. So relax; no one's going to die tonight."

No one was supposed to have died on that warm spring night fifteen years earlier, either, but that hadn't prevented deaths from occurring. Still, Tim's assurances calmed the billionaire a little. Maybe it was because Dick hadn't mentioned being in the air tonight; maybe it was because what Tim had said was perfectly logical. "…You're right," he admitted slowly.

"So can we just enjoy the show instead of sitting here with our hands clenched and waiting for something to go wrong, then?"

Bruce looked down at the white-knuckled fists he'd made without realizing it. "Shit." Forcing his fingers open, he shook his hands out. "Okay, Tim. You win. I'll stop thinking that tonight is going to be a repeat of the last time I sat in this seat."

"Do you want to move? There's still time. We could try to find Alfred; I know he's around here somewhere."

There were indeed a few spots left elsewhere in the stands, and the house lights hadn't gone down yet. It felt wrong to think about switching seats, though. The last time he'd sat where he was now the show had been horribly interrupted; he owed it to himself to finally finish the performance he'd tried to watch so long ago. "No. We'll stay here. It's fine."

And it was fine. For an instant after the interior of the Big Top dimmed, the noise level also fell. Then an entrance jingle was played, and the crowd roared back to life. A trio of spotlights zeroed in on the spangle-suited and top-hatted figure striding into the middle of the ring. Bruce couldn't help but smirk as he recognized the announcer as Dick.

"…Lllllladies and gentlemen," his son began with a grin so broad that even the Joker would have been impressed, "boys and girls, welcome to this very special Christmas Eve performance of Haly's Circus." There was no possible way he could have seen into the audience, but his eyes fixed themselves to Bruce's anyway. "I can't even begin to tell you how glad I am to see you here tonight."

Somehow, that did it. The coil of fear that not even Tim's most logical argument or Bruce's own determination could unwind collapsed into an unthreatening heap on the floor of his stomach. As soon as his tension had evaporated, Dick's gaze skipped away from him to roam the masses again. "But you all didn't come here to hear me be sentimental, did you?"

"No!" screamed the children.

"Of course you didn't! So, without further ado, I give you my personal favorite thing about the circus; the elephants!"

Dick returned to the twilit sidelines under a rain of cheers. Bruce peered after him and saw, just barely, as Damian reached out to take his hat. "…Was that Damian, being helpful?" Tim asked beside him.

"It was," Bruce answered.

"Huh. I guess funny things really do happen at the circus."

"Apparently. But no more talking," he said as a bulky gray silhouette started forward into the light. "…Let's just enjoy your brother's show." Now, Bruce thought, maybe he really could.

The elephants paraded by in their gold- and silver-fringed blankets and headpieces, their gaily clad passengers tossing candy by the handful into the delighted crowd. After a few tricks the circus' three pachyderms stood in a line at one end of the ring. Dick re-emerged wielding a conductor's baton and stood before them. "Now as I said before," he remarked, "the elephants are my favorite. Part of the reason I like them is that they're such generous creatures. They're so generous, in fact, that they'd like to sing a song for you. But they need your help. Do you guys think you can help them sing a Christmas song?"

"Yeah!" shrieked the children.

"Are you ready to start?"

"YEAH!"

"Elephants, are you ready?" He waved his baton at them, and they raised their trunks as one. "Okay, Pancho, hit it!"

An accordion-bearing roustabout ran forward into the light and began to play the strangest version of 'Jingle Bells' Bruce had ever heard. The audience recognized it anyway, and began to sing. Every time the song reached a 'hey!' the elephant trio trumpeted. Squeals of delight rang out from all sides of the tent, and when the music ended so many feet pounded on the risers that the noise might well have been audible in the next county. Only one act had performed, and the kids were already likely to be hoarse come morning; the show was an undeniable hit.

The quality didn't falter as time went on. Acrobats dressed like candy canes completed complex floor routines, climbed into towering pyramids, and threw one another high into the air. Ponies skipped and shuffled in synchronized patterns while riders performed dangerous feats of balance on their backs. There were fire-breathers, sword-swallowers, and hula-hoopers who kept five, six, seven rings going at once. It was all just as Bruce remembered it being, only better because Dick was directing the action with such feverish fanfare that he seemed almost insane.

The last act was the aerial show. This was the part Bruce had been dreading the most, and it took all of his strength to keep the coil of fear Dick had banished from re-tightening itself in his gut. The fact that the quartet of performers were cousins rather than parents and children helped, as did the fact that they lacked the preternatural fluidity that the Flying Graysons had possessed. Other than that mild criticism the only thought that went through his head was the grateful reflection that if something did happen now at least it wasn't his son who would fall.

And then it was over. The performers came out for a final wave, then ghosted back to their trailers at the edge of the woods to change and wipe off their makeup. The bleachers emptied out more slowly, with children having to be cajoled into leaving by their caretakers. Eventually Tim stood up, too. "I'm going to head inside. Are you coming?"

"No. I'll see you in the house in a little bit."

Tim gave him a quizzical look, but just shrugged rather than inquiring further. "Okay. See you later."

Five minutes later, when Bruce was the only person left in the Big Top, a side door opened. Dick walked across the ruffled sawdust, dressed no more in his sparkly suit but instead in jeans and a light jacket. He vaulted the barricade between the floor and the stands, then climbed up to sit at the billionaire's side. "…Hey."

"Hey, chum." Comfortable quiet spun out between them. "That was a damned good show. I should have known you'd be a natural ringmaster."

"Yeah…Alfred said the same thing. Timmy, too. It was fun. A lot of fun, actually. That's a job I could get used to."

"So what are you telling me? You're running away to re-join the circus?"

"Heh. No. We've got enough of a circus to take care of right here in Gotham."

"We do. I can't argue with that. Now if only we could get rid of the clown..."

Dick shivered. "Don't bring him up. Not tonight. I keep them out of Haly's for a reason. It's not that they're bad folks, clowns, but there're just too many nasty connotations for me."

"Understood." Bruce had been glad that none had appeared in the show, and it didn't surprise him to learn that their exclusion had been a conscious choice.

"I saw Tim inside. He, ah...he said you thought I might try and fly tonight."

"It crossed my mind." He paused. "Thank you for keeping your feet on the ground."

"I was tempted, Bruce. I'll admit, I was tempted. And the Rizzinis would have let me join them, too. But it wouldn't have been safe."

Bruce blinked hard as a remembered snap sounded in the back of his mind. "What?"

"Not like that," Dick promised. "No, believe me, I checked those wires about a hundred times over the last couple of days. I meant security-wise. I know Tim's a rare breed of observant, but that doesn't mean that someone else here tonight couldn't put what they saw me doing and a news clip of…other things…together and come to the same conclusion as he did. Besides, I…I knew you'd freak. I knew you'd be scared if you saw me performing here again, like that. And I didn't want to hurt you. It was enough to be back in the ring at all; I didn't need to be in the air, too."

"I think it would have about killed me if you'd gone up there tonight, Dick. I know it's ridiculous, but that's how it is. And if something had gone wrong-" He had to stop. For all that it hadn't happened, the picture was too much. In that instant all he could see were the broken bodies of John and Mary Grayson, and he realized as he never had before how closely Dick resembled his biological father. If those wide, staring eyes were ever his, and if that thin line of death-dark blood ever ran from between his lips... His hand groped over blindly and covered his son's. "Just…no. Please."

"…Bruce? It's okay."

He took a deep breath. "It is now, chum. Now that it's over and you're safe…now it's okay."

"Is that why you sat in the same seat as before?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, you sat here last time you were at Haly's, and I lived despite what happened. I was just wondering if you thought sitting in the same seat would yield the same result if something else went wrong tonight."

Bruce hadn't even considered that his choice of seat could have been tied to some subconscious superstition. He didn't like the idea of submitting to such an unscientific concept, but he couldn't deny that it might have been an unknown factor in his decision. "If I did think that, I didn't know it."

"Mm. No surprise, coming from you, but I figured I'd ask. So…what was it, then? Why here?"

He was at a loss for words until the reason he hadn't wanted to move seats on Tim's suggestion rose back into his mind. "I needed to finish it, Dick," he explained. "All week I've been thinking about tonight. Dreading it, in a way. There's a reason I never took you to a circus when you were younger, and it wasn't because I thought I was sparing your feelings. Having you with me in a place where you could so easily have died…I didn't think I could do it. So I avoided it until I couldn't avoid it anymore."

"But you let us have it here. You didn't have to do that if it bothered you so much."

"When have I ever been able to say no to you?"

"Point taken. But I wish you'd told me, Bruce. You didn't have to come. If I'd known-"

"No," Bruce cut him off. "It's good. I'm glad I came, now. I'm glad I've proven to myself that a circus doesn't always end in murder. And I'm glad I saw you standing in that ring and running the show." His earlier observation about the brightness of the tent came back to him. Long ago he had taken the brightest thing in Haly's circus away from it; tonight that brightness had been restored, and it had touched every facet of the show. "I'll never forget the sight of you in that top hat, Dick, and I'll never regret staying to see it, either, no matter how hard it might have been at moments."

Dick leaned into him briefly, then made a thoughtful noise. "Hmm…"

"Mm?"

"Well, I was just thinking…we never went to the movies when I was a kid, either."

Bruce stiffened. "No. We didn't."

"...You're not ready for that one yet, huh?"

"No." He'd never be ready for that. Tonight had been difficult because someone he loved had once nearly died here; a movie would be impossible because two people he loved had died there.

"That's okay. I don't mind. At least I got you to go to the circus again." Dick's hand landed on his shoulder and squeezed. "So you're better now?"

He was. "Yeah. I am."

"Then can I maybe convince you to stop sitting in this drafty tent by yourself and come watch a movie with the rest of us? In the den," Dick added. "No theaters. I promise."

Bruce felt a tiny smile push onto his lips. "I don't think any movie can compare with what I just saw in this 'drafty tent,' but I'm willing to find out." He pulled Dick close for another moment, then released him and stood up. "Lead the way, chum. Tonight's your show, not mine, and I'm ready to see where it leads next."