Friday morning


Terry Perkins looked up from his newspaper at the sound of the approaching vehicle. He grimaced as he got to his feet. The mornings were always the worst on his knee -- it always "woke up" a few hours after the rest of him. Limping slightly, he walked over to the hangar entrance to see a large green Hummer pulling up. He smiled in recognition as Dick Grayson jumped down from the passenger side.

The smile turned into a grin as he saw Dick go around the vehicle and plant a passionate kiss on the driver of said vehicle -- a kiss that was being returned with interest. Terry walked closer to the Hummer.

"Hey, Grayson! Get a room, why dont'cha!"

Dick turned to him with a mock scowl on his face, but he couldn't hold it. Smiling, he motioned for Terry to join him. He then turned to the woman in the car.

"Babs, I don't think you two have ever met. This is Terry Perkins. He's Bruce's plane guru. Ter, this is Barbara Gordon."

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Ms. Gordon," he replied, shaking the hand that Barbara offered him.

"Likewise, Terry. And please, call me Barbara."

Dick pulled his suit bag and overnight kit from the back seat. "I assume the Mustang's ready?"

"Yep."

"Great. Babs, I'll call you as soon as I get in to Chicago. 'Kay?"

"All right. Be careful!"

"Always." He smirked and headed over to the plane waiting in front of the hangar.

Terry heard Barbara mutter, "Yeah, right," under her breath, and smiled at her. "Would you care to join me for a cup of coffee while we wait for Dick to take off?"

"Well, I really ought to be going ..."

Terry could tell that she really wanted to stay, but that she needed an excuse. Purposefully falling back into the speech patterns of his east-Texas childhood, he drawled, "Miss Barbara, I make an outstanding cup of coffee, if I do say so myself, and I would purely enjoy the chance to share it with a pretty lady like yourself."

Barbara smiled at him in surrender. Activating her chair lift, she left the Hummer and followed Terry into the hangar. Terry got her the promised cup of coffee, refilled his own, and sat back down at the table in such a way that Barbara could position her chair across from him and still see Dick completing his preflight inspection of the old warbird.

"Umm...Terry? Exactly how old is that plane Dick's going to fly?" Barbara asked worriedly.

"Didn't he tell you?"

"No. Knowing Dick, I figured he'd be flying one of the jets."

"That's a P-51D Mustang. It was built in 1944 and actually saw combat time over in Europe. Mr. Wayne insisted on that -- he wanted a 'veteran' plane," Terry replied in the tones of a proud parent.

"So Dick's going to be flying 1400 miles round-trip in a plane almost sixty years old?!?"

"Don't worry, she's a fine plane, Miss Barbara! She always received excellent care while she was in the Army (much as I hate to admit it about Army mechanics), and a collector bought her later on and completely restored her. Those Mustangs were built to be tough planes."

Barbara smiled at his muttered aside about Army mechanics, but he could see she still wasn't convinced.

"Look, he's flown this bird long distances before, he's a good pilot, and it's a good plane. Trust me -- it's not a good career strategy to kill off the boss' son!" That got him a genuine laugh and seemed to clear some of the worry from her eyes.

"Now Miss Barbara, tell me about yourself. Dick has never had pretty young ladies like you drop him off before. Have you known him long?"

Her smile became a grin. "Actually, I used to babysit him."

Terry snickered. "So I guess worrying about him is something of a habit by now."

"You could say that."

Their conversation was interrupted rather forcibly by the sound of the Mustang's powerful engine starting up. Both of them waved their hands in response to Dick's wave of farewell as he taxied toward the runway. They watched in silence as Dick got the plane into the air quickly and efficiently. Less than a minute later, Terry laughed out loud and Barbara almost smiled as Dick put the plane through four successive barrel rolls, and then headed west.

"My daddy always said, 'It ain't work when you're doin' what you were made to do,'" Terry said, half to himself.

"The plane or Dick?"

"Both. That plane was made to fly like a bat out of...well, anyway, and that boy is a natural pilot."

Babs smiled at Terry's abruptly edited description of the plane, but also at his description of Dick. "I often think he was born to be a flier."

"I'll tell you the truth, Miss Barbara, I was a pretty good Naval aviator -- which meant I was better than about 95% of the rest of the pilots out there," he said with a twinkle in his eye to indicate he was kidding (mostly), "but Dick reminds me of a couple of guys I flew with who didn't just wear their planes, they were their planes."

"How do you know? Have you actually flown with Dick?"

"Well, there are a couple of birds here that I really needed a co-pilot for their test flights. Dick volunteered to help me whenever I needed one. We've done quite a bit of flying together in some rather...tense situations. He never lost his cool."

"Well, I've always thought anyone who could perform quadruple somersaults on the trapeze when he was only nine had no nerves to begin with." Barbara smiled as she recalled an earlier conversation she and Dick had had recently. "You might appreciate this: I once asked him if he wouldn't love to be able to fly like Superman. You know what he said?"

Terry shook his head.

"He said it would take all the fun out of it! 'What would be the point in doing a quad or a double-double if you knew you couldn't fall?' The thrill for Dick comes from defying gravity, not eliminating it."

Terry looked thoughtful for a moment and then nodded his head in agreement. "Yeah, I can see what he means. After the first few times, I bet flying is no more exciting for Superman than walking or jogging is for us."

Barbara stared at him. "It must be some sort of pilot thing -- that's almost word for word what Dick said." She looked at her watch. "Oops! I really have to get going!" She backed away from the table and wheeled out to her car with Terry at her side. "Thanks the coffee, Terry. It was nice meeting you!"

Terry shook her hand again after she was settled back behind the wheel of her Hummer. "Likewise, Miss Barbara. I hope to see you around here again soon."


****

The Mustang had made fun -- but fairly quick -- work of the flight to Chicago, and Dick circled into his approach at Chicago's Meigs Field. After a slightly eventful landing (a sudden gust of wind coming off the lake right as he touched down), Dick taxied over to one of the public hangars where he had made arrangements for the Mustang's care, feeding, and security. Once that was taken care of, Dick grabbed a taxi to the Palmer House Hilton. The old but still-elegant hotel had always been a favorite of Alfred's, so Dick and Bruce always stayed there.

When Dick got to his room, the first thing he did was set up his laptop and call Barbara.

"So that antique plane didn't kill you after all?" Barbara greeted her lover with a twinkle and a mock frown.

"It's not an antique, sweetheart, it's a classic!"

"It's over fifty years old, Dick. It's an antique."

"I'll be sure to tell Alfred you said so."

"Now, Alfred's a classic. Besides, the British don't think something's an antique until it's at least a couple hundred years old or something."

"See! The plane's a classic."

"But it's an American plane, Clueless Wonder."

"It flew in over 100 missions over Europe. That should count for something."

"Yeah, it means that plane has seen more than the usual wear and tear. To quote Indiana Jones, 'It's not the years, it's the mileage.' Your plane's an antique, Dicky-boy."

Being a true student of the Bat, he knew Barbara Gordon's secret weakness. "Next time I see Harrison Ford, I'll be sure to tell him you think he's an antique," he replied.

"All right, all right! I surrender! It's a classic. Just leave Harrison Ford out of this."

Dick tried not to snicker at her panicked expression, but he finally gave up and burst out laughing. Babs, after an unsuccessful attempt to glare him into being serious, gave it up as a lost cause and laughed along with him.

"Okay, I've got to get changed if I'm going to make my apppointment with Thompson. I'll definitely contact you after our meeting, but call me if anything comes up." Dick paused for a moment, and when he continued, his voice was more serious, "I love you, Barbara."

"I love you too, Dick." Barbara brought her right hand up to her mouth, kissed the first two fingers on it, and placed it on the screen in front of her where his mouth was. Dick responded by doing the same thing on his end. They looked at each other for a moment, and then Dick hung up.