"How did you do it, Alfred?" Bruce asks, staring at the papers in front of him.
Alfred simply raises his brows even though he knows exactly what was meant by the question. He doesn't give an answer and simply says, "There are many things I do, Master Bruce."
"You know what I mean," Bruce says, frowning. He jots down something and his left hand goes towards the phone. "When my parents died, you did the..."
"It's not everyday that you see The Batman floundering with his words," says the butler in a calm tone. He sets down a steaming cup of coffee for the tired billionaire. "The funeral arrangements?"
Bruce nods, ignoring the jab at his nightly persona. "How did you do it?"
The butler smiles softly. "Your parents were good people and they deserved a respectful service for all they had done. Does Master Jason not deserve such a service?"
"Of course he does," the philanthropist replies. His hand tightens on the pen in his hands. "So do Richard's parents."
•••
His arms are giving off minute shakes as he begins his ascent. Gardner keeps his eyes up because he's afraid that he'll start freaking out if he even thinks about looking down. As he focuses on keeping his breathing steady to calm his hammering heartbeat, there are phantom images haunting the inner-workings of his mind.
(A light snowfall and chilly air all around. It's dark and lonely. There's someone out there—or is there?)
Gardner swallows, faltering for just a second as his foot slips. He quickly remedies the situation, tightening his grip on the next rung and hoisting himself up. The air is thick and tense and he wants nothing more than to climb back down and admit that he can't do this.
(Eyes everywhere and nowhere all at once. Fear and paranoia. His mind isn't functioning right—why isn't it functioning right?)
He's almost there. He can see the details in the wood of the platform. Carved into a board, he sees a child's scribble that reads Dick was here in sloppy penmanship. He almost smiles at that but he doesn't because he's stuck in the moment.
(It's not like him to be so scared. There's someone in front of him and behind him and right there running alongside him. There's nowhere to go but down. So, he jumps.)
Gardner reaches the platform and he helps himself up. He leans against the huge support pole with one hand, amazed with himself. Then, he looks at the trapeze. The name Flying Graysons rings in his head and he remembers that no net was ever used in the act.
That fact was what killed Dick's parents.
He takes one shuddering breath and as he's about to walk forward, he hears a shout coming from Jason. Gardner doesn't dare look down. He just listens.
"Wait!" Jason yells, capturing everyone's attention. If it weren't for his tough guy exterior, he would have blushed at his outburst. Instead, he continues to speak. "I believe him. Dick, you can come down now."
Gardner smiles, dropping to his knees. His arms fall limply to his side and before he knows it, he's laughing. Then, it starts to sound like a cackle that just sings of familiarity to the makeshift family of Dick Grayson. Gardner stops, bringing fingers to delicately touch his throat.
It tickles uncomfortably like an itch that won't go away. His fingers clench slightly and he wants to claw at the skin to get rid of the feeling.
He doesn't.
Down on the ground, Damian is glaring suspiciously at both Jason and Gardner. The soup of unease boiling in his insides from earlier is still there, bubbling and threatening to spill. He says nothing because he has enough heart to not ruin the atmosphere.
Slowly, Gardner is going down the ladder. If anyone noticed the way his eyes are screwed shut, then no one is stepping forward to say anything. Instead, Haly steps forward, engulfing Gardner in a bear hug.
"He's home," Terry says, smiling.
The dead ringer only nods in silence. His arms feel numb so he just lets them hang at the side during the duration of the hug. As soon as he's able to, he slips on his jacket.
Later, Haly stops Gardner before he leaves the circus. The old man says, "Because you're finally back, I won't disband the circus. That's what you want, right?"
And before Gardner goes on to follow everyone else, he smiles. "Whatever you want to do is astrous with me. Thanks, Pop." And then, just like that, he's off.
•••
Despite the metaphorically-warmer atmosphere, the ride in the car is tense and awkward. It's only a handful of minutes in that Gardner looks up from his hands to see everyone looking at him. Of course, the designated driver, Bruce, is only sparing glances via rear view mirror. Gardner sighs, sitting up straighter. He clears his throat.
"I take it you want to know what happened these last two years," he says, not bothering to turn it into a question. His throat still itches but he doesn't dare ask for a drink.
"What I want to know is who you really are," Damian immediately says, glaring at Gardner. "You are not Grayson—I know it."
"Well, it's me and you're wrong," Gardner says. "You're not very traught, you know?"
Bruce glances over at Damian in the passenger seat and then at Gardner through the rear view mirror. "Nothing a blood test or DNA test won't solve," he says. "We can go get one tomorrow with the proper authorities."
Gardner smirks. Then, he crosses his arms smugly. "Or," he says, "we can do one when we get home. You know, down in the Batcave. You used the computers to test a blood sample from when Jason was Red Hood."
Upon hearing this, Terry gives Damian a pointed look. "It has to be Dick," he says. "How else would he know all this?"
"He's done an exceptional amount of research," Damian retorts, glaring at Gardner through the rear view mirror. He scowls. "He's a threat."
"I'm not an impostor," Gardner shoots back. "Why won't you believe me? Terry does and so does Jason!"
"Where were you?" Tim asks, looking down at Gardner. The youngest is wedged between Terry and Tim while Jason lounges in the very back, propping his feet up on the seat in a manner that would disgust Alfred had he been here with them. Tim raises his brows, frowning.
Terry nods in agreement to the question. "You've been gone two years."
Immediately, Gardner flinches. One hand snakes up to rub the back of his neck as he smiles uneasily. "I... don't really know. All I remember from that night is running. I was scared—like someone was chasing me."
"Someone was chasing you?" Bruce asks, keeping his eyes on the road.
Gardner nods. Then, he shakes his head. And after that, he runs a hand through his hair. "Yes. No. I don't know. I felt like I couldn't think straight and I didn't know what to do."
"So, when you can't think straight, your first instinct is to jump over a fence?" Bruce says, gauging Gardner's reaction with eyes like a hawk.
Immediately, Gardner's brows rise. "What? No, my first instinct is to jump off a building. Get it right," he says. "I jumped off a building and... the last time, I... fell." His eyes cloud over, whether it be intentional or unintentional. His eyes drop, staring at his feet. "There must've been a lot of blood."
"There was," says Bruce, calmly turning the wheel towards the right. "There was enough blood to make me wonder if you even made it out alive."
Tim's eyes light up. He glares at Bruce accusingly. "I thought you said the blood test proved to be negative."
"I said nothing about the blood test aside from it was done with," Bruce replies. Then, he shifts his eyes back to the rear view mirror and then slides them back to the road. "I didn't want you to worry."
Damian scowls at his father. "We would have worried regardless of whether or not you told us that Grayson lost enough blood to potentially be dead."
Jason takes the time to grin mockingly. "Oh, so the demon spawn was actually worried? How cute."
"Oh shut your mouth, Todd, or I will be forced to castrate you."
The anti-hero rolls his eyes. "You can keep throwing around threats but we all know you'll never go through with them."
The blood son's eyes glint dangerously and he twists around to scowl at the annoyance in the back seat. "Don't push it," he warns. Looking to Gardner, he says, "And you, I do not wish to spend any more time with you once we get to the manor."
Gardner stares in response.
"That's enough," Bruce says in a tone that dares them to defy him. "Alfred's probably in the middle of cooking and I want you all to sit down and have a normal dinner."
"Since when were we ever normal?" Terry asks at the same time Jason's eyes glue themselves onto the back of Gardner head.
•••
Meanwhile, at the manor, Alfred is busy preparing a small meal. After all, he assumes that the colony will be back by the time he's done with cooking. He glances at a clock left behind by Bruce's late father. It's quite late but he pays no mind.
As he's about to begin slicing, he hears the doorbell.
Obviously, it's not Bruce. The man has a key and it is his own home so there would be no need to ring the bell. And the philanthropist isn't the type to forget something so simple.
His hands clutch the knife just a little tighter and he begins to creep out of the room.
Whoever it is, he thinks, somehow knows the passcode that opens the gate. Otherwise, he or she wouldn't be ringing the doorbell.
As he nears the door, he hears a familiar voice give a muffled yell. He hasn't heard the voice in a long two years. Alfred sighs in relief, thankful that it isn't some heinous criminal who managed to sneak past the security of the manor. He loosens his grip on the knife and walks briskly towards the door. He quickly straightens himself out and then pulls the door open.
Standing in front of him are Barry Allen and Wally West. Alfred notices that the latter is close to vibrating in his spot, looking frazzled and frantic while Barry looks more reserved.
"Master Wallace, Master Bartholomew," he says, greeting them and moving to the side. "Do come in."
"Thanks, Alfred," Barry says in an earnest voice. "Is Bruce back yet?"
Wally brings his hand closer to his face and begins to bite his nails. Alfred takes notice and carefully pries Wally's hand away, making sure that the knife doesn't injure the teen. Barely smiling, Alfred says, "I believe an actual meal will be much more tasty than your nails, Master Wallace."
The British man drops Wally's hand and turns towards the kitchen. Silently, Barry and Wally follow with the former giving Wally a concerned look. Of course, the teen is too busy worrying to notice.
"To answer your question," Alfred says, "Master Bruce and the boys have not yet arrived."
"Well, you should probably prepare an extra plate," Barry advises. "Or a hundred."
"Will you be joining us tonight?" Alfred asks as he begins to chop the carrots. The rhythmic sound of the knife coming into contact with the cutting board provides a calm that Alfred found he needed.
"Us plus one," Wally answers, saying something for the first time since he arrived.
One of Alfred's brows rises. He stops cutting the carrots and puts the knife down so he can turn around. Before he can ask for someone to elaborate, words spill out of Wally's mouth.
"Dick's back."
Yo yo yo! :) I'm very surprised that I was actually able to finish this chapter so soon. I hope it's okay. :P I just wanted to dedicate a chapter to those who celebrate Rosh Hashanah!
So, saved by the metaphorical bell. Lucky you, not-Gardner LaRou. And thank you, Jason for realizing that this dead ringer was serious. Serious about what though? ;)
Just a btw, there are various times throughout this fic where I've written things in certain ways. Now, I know whether or not not-Gardner is really Dick. ;) From what I've given you, he's either Dick or a clone. Who knows aside from me?
Oh! And remember the chapter with Xenothium and C-4? I've decided that if there's a sequel, that will be one of the plots going on. You know, gotta keep things as simple as I can for now. Though, it might be mentioned or take on a mini-plot in this story.
Also, I'd like to give a special thanks to AlecGateway! :) The reviews left to me by this person ever fail to make my day. I swear, when I saw the latest review, I started grinning like crazy. It was kinda embarrassing. I've been meaning to do this but I kept forgetting. Whoops. XD
Anywho, anything you'd like to see in this story? Any characters? I'd like to incorporate some of your ideas in this story. I'll credit them, of course. I just wanna make this story more enjoyable for y'all. :P Since I have a better idea on where I'm going, it'll be easier for me to weave in a few ideas.
All right, that's all! Please drop a review (if you aren't too lazy) and have a great day/night!