Please note: Death fic
Playdate
The next day was a Saturday. Haley's was playing two matinees and then had a ninety-minute break before starting the evening benefit. Dick and his parents did what they always did on triple days; rested when they could, relaxed with their friends and went on when they got their cues. Mary was nervous, hiding behind too bright chatter and John was apprehensive about the dinner afterwards. Dick just wished it was over and they'd already moved on to the next city on the tour. His mother wasn't acting like herself and he didn't like it; she was nervous and uptight and wanted his calm, mellow but fun Mom back. Now, please. Besides, nervous was a bad thing on a trapeze. It really was.
Finally, after too much small talk that trailed off to be replaced by another subject no one cared about, they got the cue to start the opening parade. The music started, the ringmaster made the introductions with suitable flourish and everyone lined up in costume; the clowns, the showgirls, the animal acts, the acrobats, the tumblers, the trapeze artists and made their first circuits around the three rings.
Halfway around Mary touched Dick's elbow. "There they are, wave—third row, Mom's in a blue dress. Smile, sweetie, big smile." He did as he was told, but wasn't really sure which ones were his grandparents since there were a lot of people in the stands tonight. He thought he might have seen Sarah and her mother, though he wasn't sure, since the place was really crowded.
Parade over, they went backstage again to wait for their act to be introduced. One of the things Dick liked about benefits was that they were usually shortened versions of the regular show because people wanted to get it over with so they could go eat their overpriced dinners and drink. They'd be outta here in an hour, ninety minutes tops and then they'd sit through this family dinner thing, go back to the trailer, sleep and move out tomorrow, thank God.
"Dick, did you finish your homework this afternoon?"
His mother was always on his case to do his homework. Jeez. "Yes."
"And you made sure you have clean clothes for tonight? I don't want you wearing that ratty old tee shirt you had on this morning."
'Ratty old tee shirt'? It was his favorite. "I have a clean shirt."
"…Because we're going to a nice restaurant tonight." She touched that lock of hair that was in his eyes again. "And I wish we'd had time to get you a haircut."
"Mary, will you calm down, please? It will be fine; your parents are looking forward to seeing you and Dick and you know they're even feeling a little better about me. Susan will be there to run interference at the show and the restaurant and the kids can just eat and answer any questions that come their way. Besides, you know your parents, especially your mother, is going to dote on Dick and no one will get a word in edgewise once she gets started." He gave her a quick kiss. "Relax? Please?" John tried a reassuring smile, rubbed her shoulders and knew he was in for a long night.
The lion act was finished with the applause dying down, the clown filled car was making the entrance for a slapstick routine; The Flying Graysons were the next act up and they were the finale, other than the company curtain call so, with any luck, they'd be done inside of fifteen or twenty minutes. Dick was starving.
"Ladies and Gentlemen, if I may direct your attention to the center ring…"
"That's him Phillip. Oh my God; he looks exactly like Mary, he could be her twin instead of her son. Just look at him!"
Philip Lloyd agreed, not that he'd admit it. Richard was a striking looking youngster, just like Mary had been, and still was if you wanted to know the truth. From where they were sitting, it looked like the boy hadn't inherited anything from his father other than an unfortunate affection for living like a vagabond. And that ridiculous costume the child was forced to wear, all shiny fabric and sequins, for the love of God. Ridiculous.
But he was a beauty and, much as it killed him to admit it, the three of them looked happy out there in those garish costumes, standing in the cheap spotlights like the paid performers they were.
If she just hadn't met that Grayson character, if he hadn't been so charming, if he didn't have that build and that charm. Oily bastard. She could have had a good life if she hadn't met him. It still might not be too late, but they could talk about that later.
Well, they'd sit through this spectacle then have a decent and civilized meal together. Mary would see what she was missing, what the boy was missing and maybe they could convince her to come to her senses this time.
…For Richard's sake, if nothing else.
"Oh Bruce, you're such a sweetheart to ask me to a circus! How did you know I just love them to death?"
"April, I just kind of had a feeling."
She lowered her voice, whispering into his ear. "I know you're going to think I'm just awful, but which charity are we here for tonight?"
He suppressed a sigh; she was wearing on him. "The Cancer Society."
"Oh! They're a good one, aren't they?"
"…Yes, they are."
The Flying Graysons made their entrance like they always did, though Dick thought his mother was still nervous and she kept looking over to the part of the audience where her parents were sitting. They took off the satin and sequined capes, handed them to one of the showgirls and climbed the narrow ladders up to the platforms, spotlights on them and music building the tension.
There were a bunch of bigwigs in the crowd tonight, there always were for a benefit, but since they were next to Gotham they'd brought in some serious major people this time. Bruce Wayne was here with some hottie sitting next to him; that looked like Donald Trump a few seats over and that had to be the mayor and governor in the front row with their families. Big money benefits brought out bit money people and that was the way it was. They'd probably have to do a short meet and greet afterwards, but it was part of the job. Dick knew the deal; it was one of the things they got paid for.
The lights dimmed, leaving them alone in the follow spots with the blue backlights for atmosphere, the beading on their costumes sparkling as they moved. They started with the usual simple warm up passes, back and forth. John handed Dick over to Mary, Mary turned a single flip to a catch, and Dick passed back to his father from the platform. They were all moving well and the routine was going well tonight.
"Ladies and Gentlemen, your attention, please. If I may have total silence as Richard Grayson will endeavor to perform the most difficult move ever attempted on the trapeze, one of only three people in the world to master this particular move and the youngest performer in history ever to complete the quadruple flip…and he will make his attempt…without a net!" On cue the net was dropped to the ground, a clanking whoosh as it fell.
The drummer played a riff as Dick left the platform, pumping his legs to get the height and distance to make the four complete turns, John hanging from his knees on the other bar, hands ready to catch his son when the timing was right. The follow spots were on them, their costumes sparkling just enough, the drum building to a climax.
Legs tight together, form perfect, as it had to be to complete the trick. Dick released at the right moment, tucked instantly, turned almost too fast to count, straightened out, his hands slapping onto his father's wrists with a solid thwack. The musicians played a fanfare the audience exploded the way they did every show and Dick heard the "Good job, son", just like he did every time the trick was caught. He smiled his thanks, knowing how proud he father was; Dick cold do stuff no one else could—well, pretty much no one else and it was a rush.
Dick made the easy pass to the other bar, landing a second later on the platform beside his mother. His part of the show was done now, though they'd been talking about changing the act so that the quad was the finale; maybe next week when they got to Metropolis. He stood back as far as he could on the small rectangle of plywood to make room for her to do her special trick. He saw her glance down to the section her parents were sitting, hoping they'd be pleased with her this time and still looking nervous. He was glad this was the last trick.
In all the years she'd been doing the act, she'd never rally felt like she was quite as good as she should be. John had been doing this all his life and Dick, goodness, John had him hanging from the shower rod when he was eighteen months. Dick could turn a flip as easily as he could breathe but she'd only learned this when she was eighteen and she was still a little frightened. Mary held the bar, took the hop and swung away to turn a double layout into John's hands.
All right, just one more pass, one more layout and then a double pass and they were done.
She threw the layout, easier than the double but the timing was tricky. John smiled at her, their grip locked, there was a slip, the snap and they were falling.
They were falling for hours, for seconds. They knew immediately what was happening. Yes, they knew.
Oh, God, Dick; what would happen to Dick? He was still a baby…
Her parents…
She loved John…
John loved her…
Dick…
Oh God.
They didn't feel the landing, it was so quick and John died instantly, his skull fractured. Both of them had broken their backs, severed their spinal cords and couldn't feel anything but Mary could still move her eyes, for a minute or two, and she looked up to where Dick was staring down in horror, scrambling down the ropes before he moved out of her line of vision and she was so sad for him. At least her parents were here and would take care of him. They had to, there was no other choice.
In the stands the audience was screaming, pointing, shocked, covering their mouths and their eyes with their hands. Caroline stared, disbelieving and had the incongruous thought, "But we were supposed to have dinner and we made reservations. We'll have to call." She stood up, about to run down to the sawdust floor but Philip took her arm, holding her back. She tried to pull free, but he was so much stronger than she was.
"Philip, for God's sake. Mary…That poor child…"
"He's a stranger, he doesn't know us—we wouldn't be any help."
"Of course we can help, we're his grandparents."
"Grandparents he's never met. Don't get involved with this. He has people down there looking after him. Get your coat."
"No, I have to…Phillip—please!"
"I told you to get your coat." She did as she was told, as she always did. In the car he pulled out his cell phone, canceling the reservation then calling Susan, still at the circus, to say the plans had changed so she should make other arrangements for herself and Sarah this evening.
Dick was on the ground by this time, kneeling beside his parents, surrounded by circus people, their bright costumes incongruous under the harsh work lights that had been switched on. The paramedics were there in minutes, placing John on a wheeled stretcher with a sheet covering his body and face. They worked on Mary for a couple of minutes, blocking Dick's view, giving her oxygen and some kind of drugs but finally placed her on another stretcher, covered by another sheet. For the rest of his life he was torn about that; distraught at having missed the last few moments with his mother, but grateful he hadn't actually watched her die.
Dick was led over to the first row of seats by one of the clowns, the man's arm around the boy's shoulders as he stared, uncrying, at the ground.
Susan Landon tried to get through, but the police stopped her as soon as she, unthinkingly, admitted that she wasn't related to the poor people who'd been killed, assured that the circus people would take care of him and the social workers had been called. Sarah had tried to get through to Dick as well, but he was surrounded by a bunch of people and he looked like Mr. Jackson did after his car accident in front of their house last year. He was all pale and staring, but it was like he didn't really know what was going on. Sarah wasn't able to sleep that night or for several nights afterwards. She'd drop off then wake with nightmares, begging her mother to please, please let her try to call Dick. Finally she wrote him a letter, sent care of Haley's Circus, but it was never forwarded to him and was eventually lost.
Bruce Wayne was allowed through because he was Bruce Wayne and he took over comforting the child when the clown had to answer police questions about whether or not he knew anything about what happened. He spoke quietly to Dick, the words not really mattering so much as the soothing tone of his voice and the strength of his arm holding the boy upright and only loosening his grip when members of the circus came over, hugging him, letting him lean against them, telling him how they'd take care of him and how he was part of their family. "You aren't to worry about anything, you have a home and you're loved. That won't change, Dick." Janey, the bearded lady was kneeling in front of him, holding his hands. "You're part of us and you know circus people take care of their own, right? You're going to be all right, sweetheart, I promise."
Dick looked at her, unanswering, confused and in shock.
Commissioner Gordon made his way over. He'd been at the benefit himself, naturally staying when the accident happened—though he didn't assume it actually was an 'accident'. "Bruce? This is Linda Weinstein, she's a caseworker and she's going to make sure Dick here is taken care of. Thank you for your help, but we'll take it from here."
"Won't he stay with the show? I mean, it's his home; he knows all these people." Gordon could tell Bruce didn't like this and you wanted to keep someone like Wayne happy. It made life a lot easier. "The boy should be where he feels safe and cared for."
"I wish he could, but the show is supposed to leave tomorrow and we may have to keep him here as a witness. Besides", he lowered his voice, "We don't know if the boy was also a target, so we want to keep a close eye on him."
"Does he have any family in the area?"
Gordon knelt beside the child. "Dick, son, can you tell me if you have any relatives we could call?" The question was asked gently but the trembling child just continued to stare at the sawdust.
A clown, the same one who had been comforting Dick a little while ago volunteered, "I don't think so—Mary's family pretty much cut her off after she married John and I think all of John's family is still over in Europe, or dead." Gordon nodded his thanks.
Gordon spoke over Dick's head to Bruce. "He'll be taken care of, you have my word on that. I'll see to it myself." His hand was on Dick's shoulder. "You're going to be well looked after, son, we're going to take care of you."
In the end, of course, despite the best of intentions, the child was sent—temporarily—to juvenile detention for the night simply because of the lateness of the hour and the need to protect him. A few days later Jim Gordon, busy with a hundred other things, asked one of his assistants to find out what had happened to the circus kid. The answer came back that he was fine and was adjusting as well as could be expected. The small detail that he was still in a cell was glossed over because the assistant was new and assumed the Commissioner already knew that.
Caroline, Dick's unknown grandmother also tried to find out how the poor thing was faring, but because she was afraid to admit she was a blood relation, was politely fobbed off with bland assurances that he was just fine, thank you for asking. She almost went behind Philip's back and simply admitted the relationship so she could find out the truth, but she knew how her husband would react. She'd seen his temper, lived with it for almost thirty years now and yes, she'd thought about leaving him, but he controlled all the money and no one would believe how he really was. Besides, he told her he loved her, or he used to anyway, before he became so busy. And it wasn't like they really knew the boy; he'd be fine, he really would. The professionals were very careful about this sort of thing nowadays.
Sarah tried to write Dick a card, also sent care of the circus, but it was returned as 'Addressee Unknown'. About six or seven years later she thumbed through People standing in the checkout line while buying groceries. The cover subject was about Robin, and the article was wondering where he'd disappeared to lately; Batman had been out and about as usual, but his partner was MIA, causing all kinds of speculation that he was injured or even dead. She was drawn to the picture, it looked familiar, he looked familiar and she'd been following his career for years, ever since he became known. He friends had teased her about her crush but she either ignored them or joked along with them He was cute, he seemed smart and nice and he wasn't anything like the jerks in school. In fact, she knew he wasn't and she remembered how he'd turned a quadruple flip when he was twelve years old and how he had the bluest eyes she'd ever seen.
But she never told anyone who he really was.
3/9/06
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