Thanks again for the review, Callypse. I'm glad to hear you liked the Players; I wasn't sure what people would think.
Dick was trying desperately to hold back his tears.
When his parents had first fallen, he hadn't cared about hiding his tears. It had been too much—too sudden, too monumental, too incomprehensible. Once he'd arrived at the Wayne Manor, the initial grief was over, leaving only shock, and he'd been distracted on top of that, too distracted to cry. At the funeral, he'd simply been numb with disbelief. Now, rolling away in the car with Alfred, it had begun to settle in that his parents were going to be resting on that hilltop forever. He wished that he'd taken more time to say goodbye.
He was glad that Bruce Wayne wasn't with them—Bruce Wayne, who'd been four years younger than Dick when his parents died, and yet who could still talk about it so easily. How was Dick ever supposed to become like that?
"Why didn't Mr. Wayne want to come to the Lieutenant's house, Alfred?"
"He says that he's developing a head cold, Master Grayson, but it's my belief that the day's events have simply left him sentimental. It happens every once in a while; he'll go back to the manor and walk around, revisiting his parents' bedrooms and dusting off family heirlooms. Also, the Gordons're better friends to me than they are to him. Master Bruce never really became part of the family that we forged through Jackson."
Dick was looking forward to meeting Alfred's son.
It amazed him, as they drove through Gotham, the stark differences between the classes in the city. One area would be full of shining modern apartment stacks, with huge windows and marble bases, the next would be a series of boarded up windows, grimy shacks, and the homeless. Passing through the downtown area, spiked with skyscrapers, Dick realized that they were heading back towards the site of the circus. However, just as the edge of the grounds became visible, Alfred pulled off. Both sides of the street were lined with apartments. It surprised Dick how, after the rest of Gotham, the mossy brick and glowing golden windows felt like home to him.
"This way, Master Grayson."
Alfred took him inside and up two flights of stairs before stopping in front of a blue door and knocking.
There was silence for a few seconds before a raspy voice issued from inside. "The Gordonsssss… are not at home…"
Dick froze, but Alfred just said "Open the door, Barbara."
The door was immediately flung wide by a girl with huge brown eyes and a wide grin. "How could you possibly have known?"
Ignoring her, but in a way that somehow seemed practiced instead of impolite, Alfred motioned to Dick. "Barbara, this is Dick Grayson. Master Grayson, Barbara Gordon, daughter of the lieutenant."
Dick could tell by the flash of pain that crossed her face that she knew his story. She might have even been in the audience. But she nonetheless hitched the grin right back on her face and leaned out, clinging to the doorknob, to shake his hand. "Hiya, Dick. Come inside!"
She pulled back inside, and he saw her socked feet flash across the carpet out of sight. Alfred pushed the door open. "In you go, young sir."
Dick stepped inside to a small living room. It was incredibly homely, with springy brown carpet flowing into hallways on either side. The couches that were crammed into the central living space were covered with bright blankets, and the coffee table was crowded with books, movies, video games, and bowls of M&Ms.
As Alfred shut the door behind him, a woman entered from the room on her right. She looked tired, and thin, but smiled at him nonetheless as she hung up her checkered apron on a wall hook. "Go ahead and hang up your coat, Dick." After Dick had put away his coat and taken off his shoes, she moved forward and he was surprised that she pulled him straight into a hug. "It's very nice to meet you. Welcome to our family."
He turned red, but didn't pull away. Something inside of him had melted—something childish, that needed the embrace of a mother. He was touched by the kindness that she showed, so he hugged her back. "It's nice to meet you too, Mrs. Gordon."
After she stepped back, he saw that the police lieutenant had also entered the room, though without his jacket and tie, and with his sleeves rolled up. It was remarkable the difference that that made, turning him from officer to husband and father. "Hello, son." He shook Dick's hand, then gestured down the opposite hallway. "Barbara and Jackson should be right down there, if you want to get to know each other." He looked over at Alfred. "You going to say hi?"
Alfred looked uncomfortable. "I'll see him in a minute. Do you need any help in the kitchen?"
Alfred and Gordon moved back into the kitchen, and Dick took the narrow right-hand hall to the room at the end, from which he could voices issuing. He poked his head around the doorframe to see an even smaller room, that reminded him of a half-completed game of traffic jam. Two twin beds were shoved up against each wall, with just enough space at the foot of each for a desk to fit. One desk, that stretched from one wall to the other, for both occupants to use. And no chairs—he guessed that they just sat on the beds.
At that point, the uniformity ended abruptly, and Dick got the sense that the room was slightly DID. The left half was decked in purple, the right side covered in blue. The left was occupied with posters of gymnasts, tigers, break-dancers and samurai warriors; the right with cars, engine diagrams, and the periodic table of elements. The only recurring theme seemed to be the use of the color black and various sci-fi or fantasy images.
Barbara was sitting on the purple bed, upside down, with her head touching the floor and her feet sticking straight into the air. She looked over at Dick and waved, which attracted the attention of the other occupant. Dick had been expecting Alfred's son to be tall, pale, fair-haired, blue-eyed—in short, European. Instead, he was greeted by a boy who was quite clearly Asian. His hair stuck up like he'd just taken a nap. "Hi, Dick. I'm Jackson. Want to come in and close the door?"
Dick looked up and noticed the DANGER ROOM sign on the door, and grinned before closing it.
Barbara flipped her legs down off the bed, stood up, and sat on the desk, motioning to the bed. "Sit down. We're going to do real introductions. I hate how adults just go: Name. Name. Shake hands. Be nice. Done. How are you supposed to get to know someone that way?"
Dick sat nervously on the bed. He liked meeting new people, but it was usually at the circus, where he was comfortable, not in a foreign environment with a hyper teenage girl running the show.
"So—name, age, occupation, origin. Shoot." She looked excitedly at Dick. "You first."
Jackson cleared his throat. "I'll go first, Babs." He Dick a don't-get-too-overwhelmed look, before firing off, "Jackson Pennyworth, fourteen, junior engineer, Singapore. But moved to Britain. Then moved here. By the way, my mom is Chinese. That's why I look… you know…"
"Oh," said Dick. "Do you get that question a lot?"
"Yeah." Jackson looked over at Barbara. "Go."
She huffed at the disruption of her order, but said, "Barbara Gordon, thirteen, gymnast, Gotham. Dick?"
"Um, Richard Grayson, twelve, acrobat—the entire country. I think I was born in Colorado, but I'm not sure."
"Your real name is Richard?" giggled Barbara. "Weird. You don't look like a Richard. Or maybe kinda. But I wouldn't call you that. So I take it that in your free time you're usually acrobating?"
"Yeah."
"I sort of do too, since I do gymnastics, but we'll have to introduce you to the stuff that normal kids do. I draw and paint. Jackson designs websites and builds computers, though I wouldn't call that 'normal'. We both like to read and play video games. And Jackson makes one mean chili!"
Then she dropped from the desk and surveyed Dick closely, who backed up. Something about her bothered him—something that he couldn't quite put his finger on. Squinting at him, she said, "You are staying here, right?"
"As far as I know, yes. Not that I don't like it here. I do."
"Good," she said, sitting happily back on top of the desk.
Dick finally started to realize what was bothering him. Even if her eyes weren't green, Barbara had bright red hair. She also had a very alive, spirited personality. It was impossible for Dick to not think immediately of Raya.
Suddenly, he thought, Raya. The circus wasn't gone yet. They were probably in their trailer, getting ready to move out. He didn't know when they would leave—only that they hadn't yet. And it was just down the street. Alfred would definitely try to stop him from going, but if he slipped out the window now, he'd never know. He looked up, nervously, at the door.
When he looked back, both Barbara and Jackson were staring at him. They looked at each other, before Barbara asked "What's wrong?"
"I—uh—" he thought that it would probably be rude when meeting new friends for the first time, to suddenly leave to go see older friends. But he had to ask. "It's just that I had this friend at the circus. Her name was Raya. I didn't really get to say good-bye to her, and I just realized that the circus is still here, but I don't know when it's going to leave. It's right down the road from here, but I wouldn't be able to let Alfred see. I was just wondering…"
"Wait right here." Before anyone could react, Barbara was out the door in a flash of red.
Jackson started to pull open the window. Once it was open, he poked his head out. "There's a fire escape right here, so you should be good as far as that goes, but there's this stuff blocking the end of the alley—" Jackson then looked back in. "Oh wait. Right. Acrobat. You should be fine. Go out here and go left and you'll be there."
Barbara ran back in with a pair of shoes and a jacket. "These are Jackson's. I took them from the closet so that Alfred wouldn't see yours missing. Here!" She tossed them at him.
Dick was overwhelmed as he started to pull the sneakers on. These people—he'd only met them a few minutes ago, and they were already helping him sneak out?
"You should have at least an hour until dinner," said Barbara.
"And if anyone comes knocking," said Jackson. "We'll cover for you."
He pulled on the jacket and was halfway out the window, perched on the ledge, when he looked back in. "Guys—I really don't know what to say. Except thank you."
"Then get going!" said Barbara.
Dick grinned, jumped down from the ledge, descended the fire escape, leapt over the garbage bins at the alleyway entrance, and shot through the deserted midway.
He tried not to look at the central tent as he passed by.
The next thing he knew, he was pounding on Raya's trailer door without the slightest bit of hesitation. "Raya!"
There was silence inside the trailer, and he was afraid that they weren't home. But where would they be? He was hurling his fist forward to knock again when the door flew open and he fell inside. Dazed and on the floor, he looked up into Raya's apologetic face.
The next thing he knew, she'd hauled him to his feet and was hugging him like a ferocious octopus. "I'm sorry, Dick."
Dick was stunned for a second, still a little out of it from his fall, but after a second he laughed and thumped her on the shoulder. "Why?"
After she'd brushed him off and they were both sitting on Raya's trailer bunk, Dick told her what Bruce Wayne's manor had been like. He tried to be as honest as he could, even talking about the police lieutenant and the children who were covering for him back at the apartment. He didn't know if Raya would be jealous, but he wanted to be as honest to her as possible.
Raya, however, seemed to have recovered. She listened and laughed. She asked questions. Once he was done talking, she added that the circus was planning on heading out the very next day. She was glad that he'd managed to make it back in time.
The one thing that he didn't talk about was the Batman.
When they ran out of topics to talk about, a short silence reigned. Raya swung her legs and looked at the ceiling. Dick finally looked at the clock and realized that he only had a little while before he had to be present for dinner. He had no idea how to say good-bye to her, so he kept it simple. "I'm going to have to start heading back, Raya."
She was silent for a minute longer before she looked back down and asked, "Why'd you give me my necklace?"
He was taken aback. "What?"
"Why did you take the time to make it? We're friends, I don't need gifts to know that."
Dick looked down to where the necklace, well cared for, glittered around her shirt neckline. "I thought you'd like it."
"And I do. Dick, remember back when we were eight, and we'd joke that we'd get married when we grew up?"
"Yeah."
"I was only half-joking."
Dick was looked up in surprise, but not shock—sad surprise, an I-wish-you'd-told-me sooner kind of surprise. He didn't even notice her ears reddening, because when he looked back, he was looking into her eyes. "So was I."
Raya gave a mournful half-smile. "We have great timing, don't we?"
Dick wanted to laugh, but he couldn't put any heart into it.
Raya continued. "You got so busy—I barely had any time to even talk to you anymore. I figured that once we were both older, I'd ask you out. Not that we could go very far 'out'. But I've still had my eye on you since I was about four."
Dick still didn't know how to respond.
Raya stood up and sighed. "You should get going, it's almost six. But keep in touch, okay? You know the map. You know where we'll be and when. And you have my mom's cell number. So write and call, or I'm going to be really angry when we wind back up in Gotham."
He smiled and stood up. "Yes, Mademoiselle Vestri. I don't think you have to worry."
They both hugged, and he added, "I'm going to miss you too much."
When they broke apart, she kissed him on the cheek. "Me too. Good luck, my Flying Grayson."
Too soon, he was out of her trailer, walking away, turning back to wave at her as she watched through the window. He only turned to face forwards once she disappeared behind the corner of a tent.
He was crossing the midway when he stopped and looked up at the tent. The tent, the main one. He had been planning to ignore it, walk right by, force himself to keep going. But he thought he heard something. Something inside.
The tent was designed to be sound-proof, or as soundproof as a tent could be. It was also flame-retardant, tough as nails, and never faded. One of Haly's specials. But it bothered Dick. If he could hear anything, it mean that it had to be pretty loud.
And they never practiced on the night of departure.
Despite the fact that he was already running late, despite the fact that it was dark, despite the fact that he was heading towards the place where his parents died, he ran to the tent flap. He knew that something was wrong the minute that he started to feel heat on his face. After pulling the flap open, he blinked and coughed, but didn't pull back. He was too busy taking in the scene—he could barely believe his eyes.
The entire interior of the tent was ablaze. The stands that rose on either side of him were burning; the hard-packed dirt of the center of the ring was blackened and scattered. He covered his mouth and nose with his sleeve. What had caused this? What had happened?
A piece of flaming debris fell dangerously close to him, and he was about to leave when he heard crashing a little ways away and spun to see something moving underneath the stands. Three things. All three on the ground. Two who were aiming weapons…shooting them, at a third. At the last moment, the third staggered upright and flung out his hand. At that moment, that infinite moment, Dick recognized him.
"Batman!"
Two blindingly bright explosions later, the stands started to creak and groan above his head. Where was the Batman? Was he all right? Dick was torn. He had to get out—he wasn't flameproof. But what about the Batman? He was going to be trapped.
As he heard the wood above start to splinter, he finally made a split second decision and leapt into the supports beneath the stand.
Ducking around beams and dodging fiery comets, Dick made his way painstakingly to the scene of action. All three of the people were unconscious, but Dick was surprised to see that Batman's two adversaries appeared to be… children. Maybe two or three years older than him. One still had a grip on their paintball gun. Dick had no idea if they merited saving, but he got to work on Batman first. He dragged Batman through burning piles of rubble and to the edge of the tent, barely able to move him at all, but managing after a few tries. He knelt down and cut the cords securing the tent to the ground and wriggled under, pausing to spew carbon monoxide from his lungs and gulp down clean air. Then, he reached back in and tugged Batman's still form out, fumbling at Batman's belt to look for any type of device that he could use to signal the police, or an ambulance. Because he needed an ambulance, badly.
Unable to find one, Dick pulled out the phone that he was now privileged to own—it had belonged to his father—and dialed 911. He had never reported an emergency before, and barely even knew how to describe the situation that he was facing. A burning tent, wounded Batman, and two child hostiles with paintball guns. He did the best he could.
Taking several deep breaths, Dick shimmied back into the tent, and saw that the stands had partially collapsed, on top of the two adversaries. Since they were Batman's enemies, he didn't really care—but they were still more valuable alive than dead. Dick nimbly leapt back over to where they'd been and kicked some of the rubble off them. He was having a hard time finding any part to kick that wasn't on fire.
He had almost cleared it when he realized that they were gone.
He didn't understand how they could have moved, or been moved so quickly, but there was no sign of them. Not even a stray paintball. Dick started to feel lightheaded again and ran back to the hole at the base of the tent. Once he was out, he sucked in a lungful of clean air and looked up.
Batman was gone too.
He sat there, aggravated. Then he realized that he was late for dinner and scrambled to his feet. He began to hear cop sirens heading towards him, and wondered if they'd think he'd prank called. But then again, it wouldn't surprise him if this happened a lot.
He sped back through the tents and into the alleyway underneath the Gordons' apartment, before sprinting up the fire escape, taking the steps three at a time. The moment he crept over to the window and peered in, it shot open and Barbara and Jackson were both there, looking panicked.
"Oh, thank God!" said Barbara, and with one hand yanked him inside. "Are you all right?"
Dick righted himself and panted out, "Yeah—yeah, sorry I'm late, it's just that—stuff happened."
Jackson looked like he was going to close the window, but left it open. "Stuff like a fire? And Batman?"
Dick started pulling off his shoes. "How did you know?"
Barbara yanked off his coat. "Did you forget that my dad works with the police? The minute the 911 call came in, he was out the door. You called, didn't you?" She stuffed the coat and shoes under the bed. "Wow. You still smell like smoke. And I'll have to hide those things so that mom doesn't ask why they're scorched."
"Oh, yeah," said Dick, sheepishly. "Sorry about that."
They all looked at each other before they burst out laughing. Barbara threw herself down on her bed. "We have an extra half-hour now that Dad's out. Tell us what happened!"
After Dick had explained had everything, Jackson closed the window (explaining that Dick no longer smelled like he'd been in a fire). "Huh. It's weird. I mean, I know that it's weird, but I thought that that might have had something to do with why Alfred left."
Dick looked at him sharply. "Alfred left?"
"Yeah, he said something about forgetting to run an errand for Mr. Wayne, but it seemed like a bit of an odd time. He told us to eat without him, and when he came and asked where you were, we said that you were under the bed."
Errand? Huh. The three of them were all pondering the events when there was a knock on the door and the commissioner poked his head back in. "Nice to see you out from under the bed, Dick. Decided that you needed fresh air?"
"Yeah."
Jackson pushed himself up. "What happened, Jim?"
Dick thought it was funny for him to call him "Jim", but then again, he was living in his house.
"Massive fire in the tent at Haly's circus. We still don't know what caused it, but the caller to 911 said that it involved Batman and two hostiles. That honestly wouldn't surprise me. Anyway, we got the fire department there, and we couldn't find whoever Batman was fighting. But we've decided to offer the circus police protection until it leaves."
"Good," Dick said. "Apparently they need it."
The commissioner's face looked pained for a second, and he looked like he was going to say something to Dick, but instead addressed them all. "You kids ready to eat now?"
The dinner was homely. Mrs. Gordon had baked rolls and made mashed potatoes; the commissioner had made meatloaf. Dick had expected the meal to feel awkward and uncomfortable, but as time passed, conversation was had, laughter was exchanged, and food was consumed, their kindness embraced him. Later as he played video games for the first time, with Jackson and Barbara, he started to feel like he'd found his new home.
At nine o'clock, there was a knock on the door, and Jackson got up to check who it was (he'd lost the last round of gaming and was sitting this one out to collect his thoughts). Then he pulled a mock sad face and said, "Bad news, Dick."
Losing his concentration and looking up, Dick asked "Who is it?"
"Alfred."
It took Dick a second to remember that Jackson was Alfred's son, and realize he was calling his dad by his real name. He watched as Jackson pulled the door open and Alfred first looked in at them by the TV and then looked up at his son. Dick tried to read the expression crossing Alfred's face, to try and understand what was going on between him and Jackson, but his features were incredibly pleasant and normal.
"Hello, son."
"Hey, Alfred."
"Mind if I take Master Grayson home?"
Jackson grinned and looked over at him. "Yes. And he might too."
Barbara paused the game and sprang to her feet. "Please, Alfred! Just ten more minutes! Well, a half-hour. Just a half-hour, please?"
"Barbara," said commissioner Gordon, entering from the kitchen with a beer. "When Alfred says that he has to go, he has to go. But feel free to come back any time, Dick."
Dick wordlessly got to his feet and started putting on his shoes and coat. After the evening that he'd had, the last thing he wanted to do was to return to Wayne Manor, to the empty halls, and Bruce Wayne's loveless presence. Compared to the Gordons' motherly household, the manor was a queen—beautiful, regal, cold, and just out of reach.
Barbara was bouncing up and down on the couch. "Come back for Thanksgiving! Dad's making turkey and I'm going to make cranberry relish with oranges and you-can-help-Jackson-make-the-green-bean-casserole-with-onions-but-he-likes-to-relate-it-to-lines-and-vectors-and-other-weird-mathy—"
Commissioner Gordon stopped her motion by placing one hand firmly on her head. "Calm down, Babs. But she's right. That'd be a great time for you to drop by."
Dick had zipped up his coat and was hovering hesitantly by the open door. "I wouldn't miss it for the world." Then he looked back at Alfred waiting in the doorframe. "Bye, guys."
"See ya, Dick. And watch out for Batman!"
He grinned at her, but as he turned away, his expression became thoughtful. "You know, I think I will."
(Batman and related characters are property of DC comics)