Dick had never thought of himself as "soft". He was Nightwing for goodness sakes, but some of the psychos he rode with were beginning to make him think twice about hitching. With one guy, he could have sworn he heard noises coming from the trunk of the car. There was one who would only talk to Dick through the use of a sock puppet on his right hand. Another argued with him about the recent Presidential election and nearly pulled a gun when Dick mentioned his disgust for Lex Luthor. There were nice ones too. Dick rode over four hours with an elderly woman who talked nonstop about her grandchildren. He wasn't in the mood for a conversation of any sort but it was comforting in a way to hear that at least someone was having a happy life.
Dick was convinced that by hitching cross-country, Batman and the others would have a harder time finding him. He knew, however, that the 'greatest detective on earth' would catch up sooner or later. He waited at yet another rest stop for someone willing to take him another hundred miles. It had been two days since what he affectionately calls "the mistake". He traveled over a thousand miles yet he was nowhere closer to a solution. Dick was exhausted from the constant traveling; he was dirty, hungry, and worst of all out of money. He sat at the rest stop all night shivering from cold, half wishing that Batman would pull up in the car, stare at him the way a father does to a disobedient son and take him back to Gotham. By morning he had his mind made up to finally call home. He searched his coat for any change that he might have forgotten about. He found the change but surrounding it was a fortune from a fortune cookie. He smiled softly as he read the fortune.
"May your life be blessed with strength and clarity [in bed]". Scrawled on the back of the fortune was a number with the name "Richie, Seacouver USA" underneath.
Dick wasn't what one would consider a spiritual person but he took this as a sign and instead of calling Babs he dialed the number on the slip of paper. It rang several times before he heard a sleepy and annoyed voice cross the line.
"Hello?" The person sighed.
"Richie?" Dick said. "Richie Ryan?"
"Yeah." He groaned.
"It's Dick Grayson." He said brightly.
"Dick? It's 5:30 in the morning." Richie sounded less than amused to hear from his old friend.
"I know I'm sorry but I'm on the road and I need a favor."
Richie sat up staring hazily at the strange room and woman he was with. "Dick it's been like three years. Last I heard you were a bartender."
"Two jobs ago. Look Richie I need you to wire me some money."
"You're kidding." Richie answered.
"Oh come on you know I'm good for it."
"Since when do I have money?"
"Look I'm out in the middle of nowhere and I have nothing to live on."
Richie sighed. "Ok where are you?"
"Outside of Jackson, Mississippi on I-20." Dick answered after staring around quickly for a road sign.
"OK uh...I'm in New Orleans. I could meet you in Baton Rouge in two hours."
"Ok I'll try." Dick answered.
"What do you mean you'll try? Where's this bike you've told me so much about?"
"I've been hitching the last few days. It's sort of a long story."
"Ok fine stay where you are and I'll pick you up in a few hours."
"Ok Wait...Why are you in New Orleans?" He could hear a woman in the background.
"Mardi Gras." Richie answered.
"Mardi Gras was over a month ago."
"I got a little sidetracked. I'll see you in a bit."
Dick hung up the pay phone and sat on the curb, waiting for Richie to pick him up, hoping he didn't find something better to do on the way to pick him up.
Dick was convinced that by hitching cross-country, Batman and the others would have a harder time finding him. He knew, however, that the 'greatest detective on earth' would catch up sooner or later. He waited at yet another rest stop for someone willing to take him another hundred miles. It had been two days since what he affectionately calls "the mistake". He traveled over a thousand miles yet he was nowhere closer to a solution. Dick was exhausted from the constant traveling; he was dirty, hungry, and worst of all out of money. He sat at the rest stop all night shivering from cold, half wishing that Batman would pull up in the car, stare at him the way a father does to a disobedient son and take him back to Gotham. By morning he had his mind made up to finally call home. He searched his coat for any change that he might have forgotten about. He found the change but surrounding it was a fortune from a fortune cookie. He smiled softly as he read the fortune.
"May your life be blessed with strength and clarity [in bed]". Scrawled on the back of the fortune was a number with the name "Richie, Seacouver USA" underneath.
Dick wasn't what one would consider a spiritual person but he took this as a sign and instead of calling Babs he dialed the number on the slip of paper. It rang several times before he heard a sleepy and annoyed voice cross the line.
"Hello?" The person sighed.
"Richie?" Dick said. "Richie Ryan?"
"Yeah." He groaned.
"It's Dick Grayson." He said brightly.
"Dick? It's 5:30 in the morning." Richie sounded less than amused to hear from his old friend.
"I know I'm sorry but I'm on the road and I need a favor."
Richie sat up staring hazily at the strange room and woman he was with. "Dick it's been like three years. Last I heard you were a bartender."
"Two jobs ago. Look Richie I need you to wire me some money."
"You're kidding." Richie answered.
"Oh come on you know I'm good for it."
"Since when do I have money?"
"Look I'm out in the middle of nowhere and I have nothing to live on."
Richie sighed. "Ok where are you?"
"Outside of Jackson, Mississippi on I-20." Dick answered after staring around quickly for a road sign.
"OK uh...I'm in New Orleans. I could meet you in Baton Rouge in two hours."
"Ok I'll try." Dick answered.
"What do you mean you'll try? Where's this bike you've told me so much about?"
"I've been hitching the last few days. It's sort of a long story."
"Ok fine stay where you are and I'll pick you up in a few hours."
"Ok Wait...Why are you in New Orleans?" He could hear a woman in the background.
"Mardi Gras." Richie answered.
"Mardi Gras was over a month ago."
"I got a little sidetracked. I'll see you in a bit."
Dick hung up the pay phone and sat on the curb, waiting for Richie to pick him up, hoping he didn't find something better to do on the way to pick him up.