Notes: Last chapter and this are pretty much the prologue heh.
Sneaking into a hotel was as easy as Dick had imagined. All he had to do was go straight in - in disguise of course; he didn't want to chance his being recognized as the adopted son of Bruce Wayne. As long as he kept his head up and sped his steps as though he had somewhere to be, no one bothered him.
Cheyenne had gone ahead to explain the situation to her companion. She had told him earlier the room number she was staying in, refusing to write it down in case it got lost. And now he was standing outside her door, waiting for her to answer. It gave him enough time for the circumstances to fully slap him in the face.
He might have a kid. A son. A son he never knew about until today. It was a lot to take in.
Now he knew how Bruce felt.
The door opened and Cheyenne stuck her head out. "He's sleeping. But, come on in."
Dick entered with trepidation. The hotel room was classy in its decor with muted browns and pastels. He could see one of Cheyenne's assistants carefully packing bottles into a bag on the dresser, Cheyenne herself was handing over several folded clothes. And on the bed...
Because they were constantly moving, his parent's didn't have a lot of material belongings. All the Graysons had was what they could fit in their trailer; no lazy boy, no four post bed. They didn't even own a real camera, just a handful of disposable ones found in convenience stores in whichever town they stopped in, and bought when they could spare the money. Family photos were rare and mostly out-of-occasion, but cherished and kept in a shoe box.
Dick only had a handful of pictures of himself as a baby; Haley's had been making slow profits that season and his parents could hardly spend for clothes, let alone a new camera. But the sight of the little figure sleeping peacefully on the bed brought to the forefront all his memories of those baby pictures.
The same dark hair. The same cheekbones. And the near-delicate jawline that told of a softness matched with masculinity. They were the same features that had the other circus folks warn Mary Grayson that her son would grow up to be a ladykiller.
And they were all on his son.
His son.
Oh G-d, what would Babs think?
"Dick?"
His head felt like moving through molasses as he turned to face Cheyenne. She and her assistant were standing in the middle of the room, packed bags at their feet.
"Chey, what-"
She shook her head, giving the baby a sad look. "I can't chance that Pierce might find me here. With you. With him." Her brown eyes shone with tears. "I want you to take care of him."