AN: So technically this one's 'fear of water', but as those of you who had to read Old Yeller in fourth grade know…it's an old name for rabies. Sorry, Little Crane.
McStaken-What can I say, I'm a man of many talents. At least one hench has considered returning Robins 1, 2, and 4 to Batman because really, they're the worst thing that could happen to him.
It's Jonathan's first time driving them anywhere that's not 'mailbox' and it's possibly the most stressful time of his life.
Fingers white on the clutch and the wheel, eyes open as wide as they'll go, he does his best to ignore the judgmental old crone sitting ramrod-straight in the passenger seat.
He's fourteen and they need to actually come into town proper. That's his only consolation at this point. She can't do anything to him in town-too many witnesses-and he's driving because her arthritis is acting up, so she probably won't do anything to him when they get home.
Not that that's any reason to invite trouble.
"Slow down, Jonathan."
"S-sorry, Granny."
They arrive without injury, and the second Granny's not looking he slumps back. He's going to be gray by the time he's eighteen, if he lives that long.
He spots Blue, the Smiths' hound dog, and feels a little happy for the first time today. Stupid name aside, the dog's friendly, always has a wag and a dopey smile for him.
Granny's exchanging barb-laden small talk with Old Mrs. Marlowe and really, he should stick around because the sheer level of hidden insults from both sides is…astounding…but Mrs. Marlowe hates him and he's just gonna…not.
Blue's flopped behind a shady building. Prob'ly been here for a bit, judgin' by the comfy-dog-sprawl.
"Hey, Blue." No response. He eyes the whiteness on the dog's muzzle and factors in hearing loss-s'been a few months. "How're you doin', old boy?" The dog opens one rheumy eye and it's hot, maybe he needs a drink. "Stay here, I'll be right back."
The grocer always lets him use the faucet whenever he's in town, and he grabs a plastic cup and fills it up.
Blue hasn't budged when he gets back and he crouches down, pitches his voice a little louder and says, "Blue. Gotcha water, c'mon."
It's reflexes that save him. He's reaching over with the cup when the dog's head comes up fast, teeth snapping at his fingers, and he drops the plastic and scrambles back.
"Blue, s'just me!"
Blue gets up, swayin' and not lookin' right at all, and Jonathan takes several steps away. The dog follows, head down and saliva drippin' into the dust 'round his paws.
Somethin's wrong.
For the first time in his life-'least that he can remember-his first thought is to go to Granny. Blue stumbles and he turns and walks quickly towards the black parasol, listening to the heavy panting grow fainter.
"Granny?"
"Not now, child-"
"Something's wrong with the Smith's dog."
"Why should I ca-"
She finally turns around, probably to grab his wrist with the promise of punishment later, and goes white.
"Go inside. Right now."
"Huh?"
"Don't argue with me, Jonathan."
He follows her inside, confused as he's ever been, and a second later there's a gunshot.
THE END