A/N: Erin and Kim’re doing the beta. It sounds like a new dance. Thanks!

“The Boy Who Defies Gravity”

The hot steam of the shower coursed over Bruce’s back and eased the aching in his joints and bones. The billionaire pressed his forehead against the cool tiles and closed his eyes. He knew, at the tender age of eight, that money couldn’t buy the most important things in life, and three years ago, that painfully horrible lesson was drilled into him once more. Three years…Three years since his body began its downward spiral. Three years since the nights became longer and the days even more so. Three since he lost…

Bruce’s bruised and worn hands flattened against the tiles. Tomorrow, all would be all right. Even if just for a day, everything would be as it should be—or as close as it would get.

The shower knobs groaned when he twisted them off, and he drew back the curtain. He fought through his protesting shoulder, where a new bruise the shape of a crowbar would be forming shortly, and dressed in his silk pajamas. He’d long since learned not to enter his room naked as the familiar thirteen-year-old boy laid stomach-down upon his bed, his legs bent at the knees to twist in the air expectantly. Dressed in flannel bottoms and a Gotham Knights T-shirt, he looked away from the TV, which had been left on just for this situation.

As Bruce approached, he smiled sheepishly. “You don’t mind, right? The night before, it gets a little…weird in my room, alone.”

Bruce shook his head and graced the boy with a tiny smile. “Of course not.” He actually preferred the boy stayed.

Dick turned back to the Scottish late night host, his hands holding up his chin, as Bruce climbed into the massive bed and pulled the covers over his body. He knew better than to ask Dick to grab a blanket and turn off the TV. Instead, Bruce watched the boy in silent vigil, wanting to push that stubborn lock off of Dick’s forehead, and eventually allowed gravity to close his eyelids, the familiar and comforting noise of the TV easing him to sleep.

*^*^*

“…oh, President Sarkozy, Wayne Enterprises would be more than willing to help rebuild after the riots…blah, blah, blah,” or at least that was what it sounded like to a thoroughly bored Dick Grayson. The boy huffed and fought the urge to gag. When Bruce said costume party, Dick foolishly believed this “party” had some potential. Instead, here he stood on Halloween, his feet killing him not from too much trick-or-treating, and Bruce and the president of France talking about politics still! The only deterrence from the norm was Sarkozy in a long black cape and gray jumpsuit with a black bat across his chest—a cheap imitation costume if Dick said so himself. His wife donned a black leotard with two black ears popping out of her long, curly brown hair and a whisking tail suspended from her butt. No matter what she looked like, Carla Bruni couldn’t hold a candle to Selina Kyle.

Dick fought back a yawn and rocked back onto his heels. How much longer would he be forced to act even somewhat attentive?

“Oh, Brucie, it looks like we’re boring your little Superman here,” Carla’s sultry voice worked its way into his thoughts, and he almost flinched as her long, black nails scraped alone his chin.

Bruce Wayne, dressed in a simple tuxedo with a blue sash and crown to look like royalty, glimpsed down at his ward before letting out the tiniest of sighs. “You had to dress like that.”

With a blue suit and red cape complete with golden s’s on the chest and cape, Dick beamed up at his guardian, his eyes bright and clear with mischief. “You wouldn’t have to see it anymore if you just let me go out with my friends.”

The president nodded. “Exactly, Bruce. Isn’t it an American custom that children go out—what’s it called?”

“Trick–or-treating,” Carla offered before nodding toward Bruce. “Shouldn’t he be with his friends instead of here with the boring grown-ups?”

“That’s what I thought, Ms. Bruni,” Dick added with a smirk toward Bruce.

Bruce swiped his hand. “Mr. President, Carla, trick-or-treating is dangerous in Gotham, even in Bristol, and besides, it’s getting late.”

I.e. it was late for Dick Grayson but not for Robin.

Dick rolled his eyes. “But Wally invited me to go with him, and we won’t be out long.”

I.e. he would trick-or-treating in Blue Valley, one of the safest places on the planet, and Wally could run him home in less than five minutes.

Bruce glanced at the French president and his wife, back at Dick, and then out to the older man standing not too far away with a plate of hors oeuvres. A subtle nod met Bruce’s unspoken question, and when Bruce turned, Alfred winked at Dick. The boy returned it before smiling up Bruce almost ecstatically.

Bruce sighed. “Fine.”

“YES!”

Before Dick took two steps, a hard hand snatched the back of his cape and tugged him back into Bruce’s comfort zone. “But you will keep your cell phone on at all times, and you will text me every fifteen minutes to let me know you’re safe.”

“Aww, but—”

“You want to make it every five minutes or maybe not go out at all?”

Dick gave up struggling as just a hint of the Bat Voice entered Bruce’s, and he deflated. “No, sir.”

“A little hard on the boy, aren’t you, Wayne?” Sarkozy asked, taking his wife’s arm.

“One can never be too careful, Mr. President. I’m sure you know that.” Bruce turned Dick around and hit the drooping curl in the middle of the boy’s forehead that mimicked Superman’s “Are we in agreement?”

“I don’t agree with it, no, but if you mean I’ll do it, yes, sir.”

“Good, then be home by ten.”

Dick glanced down at his WayneTech Flyr phone. Only an hour? By the time he reached Wally, it might be thirty minutes. Oh, well, it was better than nothing. “Yes, sir.”

With an exaggerated sigh, Bruce let Dick go.

*^*^*

The first thing Bruce noticed when waking up was the coldness of the room. When he’d fallen asleep a little before two, the massive silken cover had been pulled up to chin. Now, his covers had been stolen, and when he opened his eyes, they softened at the sight of the boy wrapped within their warmth. Through his black-out curtains a ray of light crept through to illuminate the locks of raven hair like a halo. His tanned skin glistened with the innocence of a newborn baby, and other than his gray patch of his T-shirt or a splash of green from his pants, Bruce could only see—and smell—the foot. Just before Bruce’s face lay the bare foot complete with a jagged, aged-to-brown scar that Dick received jumping onto a spike meant to keep pigeons off the Burnley Building. The needle had sliced right through Robin’s pixie boot and hurt almost as much as a bullet wound, if the amount of Dick’s complaining indicated anything.

Without a second thought, Bruce clamped his massive hand over the boy’s ankle, jostling the boy awake. An instant tugging accompanied a strained whine, and Dick pulled the covers over his head.

“…Bruuuce…”

As soon as the word worked its way from his lips, his resistance fell, and his head shot up. Bruce released his leg just long enough for Dick to toss the covers off the bed and lunge forward to wrap his arms about his father’s torso. Bruce’s back smacked into his headboard, but he didn’t complain, would never complain at the force of the hold about his stomach and the warmth of the boy’s body against his own. He dropped his cheek to the boy’s raven mop and closed his eyes. If only they could stay like this…If only time could stand still…

The door opened without a knock, and the jingling of a tea cup sounded against a metal tray. “Master Bruce, Master Richard, good morning.”

“Hey, Alf,” the boy answered, somewhat thickly.

Wiping his eyes, Dick crawled from Bruce’s arms, much to the father’s disconcertion, and sat cross-legged on the bed. Even after all this time, Alfred wasn’t fazed. He simply placed the tray upon the ottoman at the end of the bed and lifted the plate covers to reveal buckwheat pancakes. He did nothing more than hand the boy the plate and stop, cradling Dick’s cheek against his chest and granting Dick a kiss upon his head. He released the boy to hand Bruce a plate of buttermilk pancakes.

“What is the agenda for the masters of the establishment this fine morning?”

Dick met Bruce’s eyes as he inched closer to the man, so even though they weren’t touching, Dick was close enough to feel his presence.

Bruce said nothing, though he needed the feeling as well.

Ignoring his fork, Dick shoved half a pancake into his mouth before snatching the remote off the bed. “I figured we’d just go to work today. Isn’t that what you do every Friday?”

“I thought you’d want to do something more…entertaining,” Bruce offered, not even touching his food.

Dick shrugged. “I like going to the office. It…It’s…comforting, especially when I can…you know…smell it.” He ruffled his hair and ducked his head to hide his flushed cheeks. “That didn’t come out right…”

He had to say nothing else. It was decided.

As the TV flashed to life, Summer Gleason’s once bright face was forlorn, her clear eyes dark with sorrow. “And as many of you know, today marks the three-year anniversary of—”

Dick switched the channel to Save by the Bell, and Bruce didn’t switch it back.

*^*^*

Wayne Security met the disheveled man when he first entered the manor. Unlike the other businessmen and women, or in this specific case, politicians as well, this man appeared scruffy, unshaven, and downright unnerving in his dark shades and red bandana. The security guards exchanged looks before the tuxedo-dressed guards broke away from the metal detector.

“Sir, can I see your invitation?”

The man gave the security guard only a second to see the glimmer of the gun barrel in the soft overhead light.

“It’s right here.”

*^*^*

“Bruce, seriously. You should rethink Halloween here. It’s a great holiday.”

“No.”

“You really have to get over that.”

“No.”

“Do you know any other words, or is ‘no’ just your favorite?”

“Yes.”

“Yes to knowing other words—well, I guess that’s true if you know ‘yes’ and ‘no’…or did you mean ‘yes’ that ‘no’ is your favorite word?”

“Yes.”

“Yes that—” Dick sighed exasperated and stuffed his hands in his jacket’s pockets. “Oh, never mind.”

Bruce’s lips twitched into a smirk as the duo made their way through the security check point. The older man slid his Wayne Enterprises ID card through the detector and allowed the silver bar to open before walking through. Dick, on the other hand, simply flipped over the bar and caught up with his adopted father as they walked through the undecorated hallways of Wayne Tower.

Bruce watched the boy slump out of the corner of his eye as not one person came to work dressed as a pirate, a spacemen, Superman, Nixon, or Luthor. Instead, suits, ties, and skirts greeted the two as they made their way into the elevator. Bruce made a mental note at Dick’s slouched shoulders against the back wall but said nothing. He wouldn’t acknowledge the holiday, and though he never officially sent out a memo, the majority of his employees knew better.

“Just because you like to brood doesn’t mean your employees have to, you know,” Dick offered as the elevator doors opened.

Letting out a deep breath, Bruce put a hand on Dick’s head and worked his fingers through the raven locks before pressing on the top of the boy’s back and leading him out of the elevator. He allowed himself a brief smile when Dick leaned against him and didn’t care what Sarah would see when she raised her head, though he didn’t expect her face to blanch so much.

“Mis—Mister Wayne?” she stuttered from her desk. “What are you doing here? You should be—”

“I’m where I should be, Sarah.” He didn’t even bother to put on the Bruce Wayne voice. Batman chilled the room with his presence, and Sarah nodded instantly.

“Y—Yes, sir. I’ll inform Mr. Fox.”

“Thank you.”

Dick waved absently to the woman who nervously put up the phone and hit the correct extension. Bruce held the door open a little longer than usual to accommodate the boy, who stopped just inside the doorway and put his noses up in the air. Bruce wasn’t sure exactly what it was about the smell, but Dick tried to explain it to him at one time. The woodworking of the building along with the vanilla scent of Bruce’s cologne mingled with the fine aroma of the scotch and vodka drinks in the wet bar at the side just reminded Dick of the many days he joined Bruce after school or during the summer months in the office. He said something about seeing it in the Parent Trap, some teenage movie Bruce never heard about.

“Are you…content?” Bruce asked, somewhat warily.

Dick opened his eyes and indulged him with the ethereal glint in the boy’s piercing blue eyes, and he blushed again with a nod. “Yeah, thanks. So, what’s on the agenda today?”

Bruce shrugged and made his way to his desk. “Sarah cleared my schedule, so unless something comes up with Lucius, there is really nothing to do.”

“I told you not to do that,” Dick said with a disdained scowl.

“And I don’t listen to a thirteen year old.”

“Well, maybe you should.”

That earned the boy an exasperated glare, which Dick returned mockingly before using the front of his desk to jump into a handstand. He began to bend one leg inward when the doors to the office crashed against tan walls.

“Bruce! What in God’s name has gotten into you?”

Dick immediately grinned widely at Bruce upside down. “Sorry about this.”

Bruce narrowed his eyes. “No you’re not.”

“I’m not what?” Lucius demanded as he stalked forward. “Furious? Bruce, you should be home. You shouldn’t be—”

“I shouldn’t be what? Working?” Bruce demanded as he pushed to stand and come about his desk to see Lucius. “Today is like every other day.”

“But it’s not. That’s the problem.” Lucius let out a long sigh, and when he spoke again, his voice hardly rose from a whisper. “Bruce, I know…I know you just want to bury it, but…you’ve never really grieved.”

A large clunk of something hard hitting his desk sounded from behind Bruce, followed by the thud against the carpeted floor. He didn’t need to turn to know Dick had fallen, especially when he heard the faint, “Ow…”

Of course, Lucius wouldn’t notice. He simply rubbed the back of his head and continued without missing a beat, “It’s natural to try to ignore the pain—”

Out of the corner of his eye, Bruce saw Dick grab the side of his desk and haul himself to his feet. “Your dad’s hrmphing again,” the boy muttered.

“—but eventually,” Lucius continued, “you’ll have to come to terms with it.”

“I had to come to terms with my parents’ murders, Lucius, and I don’t know I ever have,” Bruce combated, the edge of Batman seeping into his voice. “Don’t ask me to do the same with my son’s.”

“Your dad agrees with Lucius, Bruce,” Dick said softly as he hiked up a leg to sit on the edge of Bruce’s desk. “Your mom, too.”

“I’ve had to ‘come to terms’ with too many things in my life, Lucius. I’ve had to accept injustices and wrongdoings, and simply endure.” His hands curled and shook as he retreated toward the window. “It’s exhausting, Lucius, and I’m done doing it.”

“Then what are you going to do? Hold onto the pain forever?”

Bruce glanced back at the boy who worked himself back into a handstand before being swallowed by the massive desk chair. A hint of grin crossed his face.

“Lucius, do you believe in ghosts?”

*^*^*
“ ‘cuse me, mate. Do you know where I can find The Boy Who Defies Gravity?”

Australian accent, south of Sydney, but that wasn’t what Alfred first noticed. The valet immediately bristled at the glass scraping along the man’s throat and turned from serving the prime ministers of two Asian countries to meet the almost horrific sight and of course, offer the aforementioned man crusted mushroom caps. Unlike the other costumed businessmen, the newcomer wore a red bandana with a black tank top and blue jeans. Though that could be seen as simply bad taste at the annual Wayne Foundation Charity Costume Ball, the almost green markings upon his grungy face and arms glowed ethereally, almost demonically.

Alfred was grateful those sunglasses covered the man’s eyes. “I beg your pardon.”

The man shifted his weight onto his back leg. “No idea, huh? Well, best be off then. Cheers.”

The man put a hand on Alfred’s chest and with a thrust, shoved the older man into the wall. The force behind the push rattled Alfred more than it should have, and the valet shivered at the burst of cold that seeped into his body from a gale of bristling wind from an unopened window. He raised an eyebrow as he watched the deviant weave between the stuffy guests dressed in ridiculous outfits, and the coldness seeped into his gut.

He asked for a boy who could defy gravity….such as a Flying Grayson.

Alfred instantly sought out Dick but unable to find the young master visually—Please let the boy have left for Blue Valley--he rushed to find Master Bruce.

*^*^*

Donna called it suicide. Sure, she could really fly. Garth laughed nervously, almost incredulously, when Dick talked about it. Wally’s eyes always bugged out of his head, and Roy—well, Roy muttered “carnie boy” with a wink, as if he understood the whole thing. Sure, he wasn’t raised in a circus, but Roy could almost do it just as well as Dick from his time with Green Arrow. And he agreed.

There was no greater rush than flying over the city a thousand feet above the ground.

Robin let go of the jumpline, grabbed onto his shins and whirled forward four times before flattening his body across the air and shooting another line.

“Whoo-hoo!” he released through the cavern of skyscrapers and grinned from ear-to-ear when the voice replied to him. As the window came into sight atop of the warehouse, Robin swung as far as he rope would let him, spun into a 360 inversion and dove straight down with his pixie shoes pressed together. The glass broke on contact, and Robin bent his knees to absorb the impact of the ground as the black cape fluttered behind him.

Batman and Robin fought side-by-side again.

Two-Face turned from the crates he and his men were opening and sneered, “So it’s true, huh? I lost fifty dollars?”

“You’ll lose a lot more than that,” Robin promised, hitting his left fist into his right palm.

“Oh, I’ll collect from you again. After all, it’s been—what? A year since anyone’s seen you? The Arkham gang started a pool. Most believed you were dead.”

Those comments always hurt, but he couldn’t let Batman see that. “Yeah, well, I’m here, aren’t I? Don’tcha want a second chance?”

“Always.” He tossed his coin and flattened it upon the back of his hand. “Boys, make it a double homicide.”

The first goon’s eyes looked like Wally’s, out so much that they protruded over his nose. “Uh, boss? How so? All I see is the Bat.”

“What are you talking about?” Two-Face snarled and pointed directly at Robin. “The kid’s right there!”

“But—”

Robin blinked as the first goon slammed into the ground, and the second crashed into a set of crates. Batman systemically took out the goons, leaving the one person Robin could fight open for the boy. Armed with a smirk, Dick jumped up onto the crate and vaulted forward, flicking his feet outward to connect directly with Two-Face’s chest. The teet, teet, teet stole Robin’s attention enough for his head to whip toward Batman, and the small break in concentration gave way to a blinding punch. Robin grunted as his back smacked into a row of crates, and the top one began to teeter. He pushed onto his feet again just as Two-Face charged toward him—

“I’ll make sure you’re dead—a second time!”

—and Robin leapfrogged over Two-Face’s back. The former lawyer rocked the crate when he slammed headfirst into the row, and Robin even grimaced when the wood cracked upon Two-Face’s face.

Once he made sure the criminal was unconscious, he turned to see Bruce tying the henchmen with a cable wire. “Thanks for…y’know…”

Batman nodded. No words were needed.

After pushing off the crate, Robin snatched Two-Face’s collar and dragged him toward the pile. “Wasn’t that the JLA alert?”

“I’m no longer in the JLA.”

Robin shrugged. “Then it must be important for them to call you, especially tonight.”

“They’ll just have to deal.”

“Baaaatman, come on,” Robin drawled.

“Don’t whine,” his mentor snapped before Robin let out a sigh.

“Yes, sir, but they need you or else they wouldn’t have called. Go. I’ll be fine.”

“No—”

A slightly smaller hand slipped into Batman’s, and even through the gloves, the older man felt the boy’s warmth. “I’ll be fine. They’ll be other days, and if something were to happen because of me…they aren’t just your friends, y’know, not to me.”

Batman didn’t turn to the boy and disengaged their hands to push the stubborn bangs back from Robin’s forehead. “How did you get to be so good?”

Robin beamed. “It’s heredity.”

“That I don’t doubt.”

“I wasn’t talking about biologically. Nature versus nurture and all that.”

*^*^*

Dick clicked the roof of his mouth with his tongue as he sent another text message. “Third quickest reflexes in the world, but can’t return a text message in five minutes?” he mumbled to himself. There was just something wrong with that.

Blowing up his one curl with a single sigh, Dick slapped his Flyr shut and leaned against the small corner of the wall. So much for any sort of fun. He might as well head down to the cave and wait for Bruce to finish with his guests. Maybe he could finally get a lead on that new Batgirl…

Buzz-Buzz! Buzz-Buzz!

Yes!

Dick reached into his golden belt and flicked opened his Flyr to read, “Sweet! B-2-U in—”

He felt the coolness upon his forehead, sliding against the small pool of sweat later than he should have. The sensation was all too familiar as his stomach bottomed out, an overwhelming lightheadedness overtook him, and his clear blue eyes crossed at the barrel pressed directly between them.

His eyes slowly moved from the gun to the sinister man holding it.

“’ello, mate. Name’s Matatoa. I hear you’re the one I’m lookin’ for.”

*^*^*

“The world better be coming to an end,” Batman threatened as he entered the monitor womb.

Like always, a majority of the Justice Leaguers jumped at the sudden address, though this time, no one passed a comment about the curtness. Instead, Superman flew forward and dropped to the floor just before the Dark Knight.

“I thought you would like to know.” Superman hesitated for a moment, causing Batman to narrow. What on Earth could possibly cause the Man of Steel to stop—Oh. God. “Ollie and Dinah ran into a man who called himself Matatoa. He said he was in search of ‘an undefeated warrior.’ Ollie fought him for a little while before he realized Ollie or Dinah wasn’t the one.”

“Lucky me, lucky me,” Green Arrow grumbled the table.

Batman never glanced at him as his words scrapped his throat raw. “Where is he now?”

Black Canary’s heels clicked along the ground as she came to place a hand on Batman’s shoulder. “He said something about checking out Gotham. We figured he must be heading for you.”

Hitting off her hand, Batman swung his cape around as he pivoted on his heel and treaded toward the door.

“Bruce.”

Batman halted abruptly at the desperate plea. “Diana.”

“We all know this is hard for you. If it were my sister—”

“It wasn’t your sister.”

The raw emotion stole Wonder Woman’s argument before she regrouped. “But if it were…then I would be overcome with the rage of the Underworld. This isn’t something you have to face by yourself. An intelligent warrior knows when to strike in a pack.”

The white hot burning in Batman’s chest threatened to unleash upon the very people in the room—those he once considered friends—and rotated halfway to see Wonder Woman’s flushed face. “If it were your sister, then you would know why I have to do this alone.”

He said nothing else, simply closed his cape and strode from the room.

J’onn’s red eyes snapped open and met every single one of the members’. “He is not alone.”

*^*^*

“The Boy Who Can Defy Gravity?” Bruce repeated incredulously. “Why would someone be—” His brilliant mind clicked the riddle together, and his widened eyes searched the area. “Dick. He’s after Dick.”

“Almost assuredly, Master Bruce,” Alfred agreed. “The only question is: why?”

“That doesn’t matter, not now. We’ll figure that out later, after we find—”

A bloodcurdling scream whipped Bruce’s head toward the foyer, and he took off in a mad dash. Bruce’s heart fluttered as he pushed between the gathering people, fighting against his own emotions not to panic. Once he broke from the crowd, he saw the security guards, all of the familiar and recognized, lying in pools of crimson under their blackened tuxedos.

“Call nine-one-one,” Bruce ordered the nearest woman, noting vaguely as Sarkozy’s men ushered the president and his wife from the room. He, however, already had his phone out and hit the speed dial one.

In the periods between rings, Bruce felt dread creep into his stomach, and when he heard Roy Harper’s voice on his son’s voicemail, “Hey, you’ve reached People’s Richest Teenage Heir, Richard Grayson. What? You think I answer my own—” he reached for a different kind of communicator.

*^*^*

The sky cried.

The heavens wept thick drops upon Gotham like they wished to purify what had been dirtied. To some extent, Batman hoped it might.

By the time he returned from Happy Harbor, the night had grown dark. He eventually found the man on the very edge of a steel eagle of Wayne Tower, his red bandana illuminated by the lightning that flashed overhead every few seconds. The green markings on his skin needed no additional help, however; they glowed fine by themselves.

The man didn’t turn as Batman dropped onto the eagle behind the man, the hot pain of rage burning in his gut. “I hear you’re looking for an ‘undefeated warrior.’”

“Sorry to say, but that’s what will satiate the hunger, mate.” The man slowly pivoted on his heel to meet the Dark Knight’s unforgiving glare. “Name’s Matatoa, and I’m here to make this curse right.”

“Curse?” Batman echoed and slowly rose from his crouch. “What curse?”

“Yeah, mate. I’m immortal, but see? I need to kill and devour souls to do it.”

Batman’s jaw set.

“I’m not a killer by nature, but I don’t have control. I mean, I’ve tried not to kill. Really, mate. I have. Really. You have to believe me, but I just can’t not do it. I, like, get these orders, and then I just gotta, and—the hunger gets too great, and—”

The rage overcame him, and Batman lunged forward, his fist brought back to deliver a crushing blow. Matatoa ducked at the very last second, his speed faster than it should be, as well as his agility as he dropped to the slippery metal, planted his hands and pushed both feet up and over. The momentum took the Dark Knight over Matatoa’s head, and the wet metal did the rest, sending Batman over the edge of eagle. At the last possible moment, Batman caught the beak of the eagle and hung on for dear life.

As he began to pull himself up, a heavy boot pressed down upon his fingers, searing him with physical stinging. “Well, you’re the only undefeated warrior I’ve ever heard of, and you and I—we can make this right, mate. Really we can. I knew once I found you, you would be a man on mission. You must be paying for some sin or debt or love or something, and I hear you want this city protected. All you have to do is let go. Just let go, and I promise, mate, I’ll use this curse to protect your city. That is what you want, isn’t it? To know your city will be protected forever? Well, you’re only mortal, but me—I can give you what you really want.”

Batman narrowed his eyes as the pain in his hand finally numbed, and the cold rain mixed with the river upon his face. Let go. That was all he had to do. If he let go, he would finally be at peace, but…Dick…

Two green arrows sliced through the air, narrowly missing Matatoa as he ducked and then flipped backwards to avoid them. He sprung into the air in a backhand spring and landing in a crouch. Batman didn’t need to glance over his shoulder to Green Arrow perched on Green Lantern’s platform with Black Canary, Aquaman, and the Flash; while Wonder Woman, Martian Manhunter, and Superman hovering in mid-air.

“You’re wrong, Batman,” Superman proclaimed. “You don’t have to do this alone.”

Matatoa drew two pistols. “Sorry, but none of this concerns you, mates. It’s between me and Batman.”

“Like hell!” Black Canary growled, and Batman took a better grip on the eagle as the blonde-haired woman flew overhead and engaged Matatoa. The man depressed one trigger, but Black Canary ducked the shot and let out her cry. The man immediately dropped his weapons to flip backwards, tuck his knees into his chest, and dive off the side of the eagle. At the last moment, he snatched the metal and swung with the momentum, flinging his body upward onto another beam.

“ Great Hera…” Wonder Woman gasped.

“Is that what you told the boy?” Batman grated as he lugged himself back onto solid ground.

Matatoa’s eyebrow furled. “The boy—oh. You mean the kid I did in Gotham three years back? Hey, mate, it was nothing personal. If it makes you feel any better, the orders told me I supposed to do a ‘complete innocent’ afterwards, but he also qualified as that. Can you imagine that? A complete innocent? I still see his eyes when I try to sleep—‘try’ being the key word there.

“But unlike you, I didn’t have anything to offer him. You probably blame yourself, don’tcha? We can change that. We can make this curse right.”

“Oh, we’ll make it right all right!” Green Arrow let another arrow fly, but as the pointed end zipped toward the man’s shoulder, Matatoa sprung backwards only for pixie boots to slam into his back and send the mass murderer tumbling forward.

“That’s my move!” a barely pubescent voice hollered.

“No…” Batman’s fists clenched, shaking, his fingers digging through the Kevlar and into his palm, Batman somehow managed not to fly forward when Robin landed behind Matatoa in a crouch on the eagle.

Superman’s eyes grew wide. “Dick…?” his gutted voice wafted into Batman’s ears.

“My mother taught that to me!” Robin launched forward to kick Matatoa, who accepted the blow after blow with the precision of a well-trained ninja. He leapt over Matatoa’s head. “And my father taught me that!” He kicked back. “And Batman taught me that!”

“Wuh…” Flash asked as he shook his head. “Just what is going on here?”

“Matatoa is being defeated by the Invisible Man?” Green Lantern wondered.

Matatoa actually caught the boy’s foot with his forearm and slapped a backhand across Robin’s cheek, stunning the boy enough to grab his tunic. He snatched the domino mask from the boy’s saturated face. “Kid, do I—Oh, sweet Lord…”

The tears of Heaven mixed with Dick’s own and stained tracks down the boy’s cheeks.

*^*^*

The bloodcurdling shriek was just the right distraction for no one to notice the cold barrel against Dick’s forehead. The man’s hand was unnaturally cold and sent shivers through Dick’s body as it latched onto the back of the boy’s neck, like ice to a warm tongue. The gun’s barrel swiped across his head but never left his scalp before the man dragged it down to settle behind his shoulder blades.

As the horde of businessmen and women hurried in the direction of the scream, Matatoa dragged Dick along without another word, the boy allowing it to get out of the watchful eyes of the public. Still his breath unconsciously sped up. He blew out a slow breath in hopes of calming his runaway heartbeat like Bruce taught him, but nothing could stop the fear growing within his stomach and eyes as he stared upward at the man’s determined face and the dark, opaque sunglasses, sparing him of seeing the man’s demonic eyes.

This guy wasn’t one of the crazy lunatics Bruce and he normally fought. This guy was sane, a serial killer no doubt, but sane nonetheless.

With the knowledge eating at his stomach, Dick waited until the hard hand thrust him forward into the darkness of Bruce’s study before Dick whirled and lifted his fist to punch. Matatoa must have been good at what he does, for he snatched Dick’s hand. The boy never saw the weapon, but he’d taken a pistol-whip across the face enough times to know the pain. His lower jaw slammed into his upper, and Dick crashed to the floor, his hand cradling his searing mouth.

“I—I don’t want to do this. Really, kid, but this—this is the only way I can satiate the hunger.”

Dick made mental notes. Australian accent, from where on the continent he wasn’t sure. The gun, a .45 caliber, would blow his brains onto the carpet, and Alfred would hate to clean that.

He reached under his stomach, the cut across his cheek still smarting, and he used the time to snatch his Flyr. He began to speed dial Bruce when the man’s boot heel slammed into his stomach and sent him into Bruce’s desk, his phone snapping against it.

“You gotta believe me, but I gotta do what I’m ordered, you know? You understand, right?”

Okay, maybe not so sane after all.

The man crouched by Dick’s head, his cold hand brushing back the boy’s hair from his forehead, manifesting a fine tremor in Dick. “You see I have no control over—”

“Why are you doing this?” Dick demanded, shocked and horrified by the fresh tears glistening upon the man’s still glowing cheeks. “Bruce will pay you anything you want.”

“The hunger isn’t satisfied by money,” Matatoa apologized as he petted the boy’s head almost in an affectionate manner. “It’s only satisfied by a soul that meets its description.”

“A soul?” Dick echoed. He tried to keep the fear from wetting his cheeks, even as Matatoa lowered his gun until it once more pressed against Dick’s forehead.

“The last of the greatest aerial act ever. A Flying Grayson.

“The Boy Who Defies Gravity.”

*^*^*

“Okay, anyone know what’s going on here?” Aquaman asked as Matatoa was thrown around by seemingly no one.

“What are you talking about?” Superman contested. “It’s Dick!”

Wonder Woman shot a shock gaze toward Superman before staring at the scene, now Matatoa holding someone at bay. “Richard? But Kal, he’s…he’s gone. How could he possibly—?”

Batman listened to their conversation only as far as it served his purposes—to make sure they left Robin to fight his last battle. The boy lifted up his feet and forced them into the chest, breaking away from Matatoa. Even as he flipped back onto his feet, the serial killer let out a gasp.

“You—You can’t be here unless—” Matatoa turned his shocked gaze upon Batman. “Ah, you made a deal, didn’t you? Better watch those. They can be a killer. Trust me. I know.”

Robin lunged forward. “So do I.”

A sudden lightheadedness attacked Batman, and he put a hand to his head. J’onn, get out of my head!

Only a moment in Batman’s head was enough for Martian Manhunter to see what Batman had for the last three years, and his voice drifted to the other JLA members. Superman is right. Richard is here.

Startled gasps and wary swears sounded behind Batman, though Green Lantern muttered, “What are you talking about? I don’t see the kid.”

“Enough of this!” Superman yelled as he shot forward, but Batman put a hand up, halting the alien in mid-air.

“No, let him.”

“But—” Green Arrow interjected.

“No!” Batman argued. “He needs to do this!”

“What gives you the right?” Robin shouted, twisting into a tornado kick. “What did I do to deserve this? Why must your victims be punished, so you can live?”

“I’m gonna make it right!” Matatoa argued, accepting the kick and delivering his own, which sent Robin flipping to avoid the twenty-story fall. “I’ve already talked to your father. I’m gonna give him what he wants and make this curse into a blessing.”

“What my father wants?” Dick crossed his wrists to accept the blow and blocked with his arm before pouncing forward to land on Matatoa’s bare chest. “You know what I want? I just want weirdoes like you to leave Batman alone. He doesn’t deserve this torture.

“And you know what?” Dick lifted back his fist to nerve strike. “Up until tonight, you were more or less undefeated yourself—ep!”

A kick to Dick’s butt sent him falling forward, and he cringed when his head smacked face first into the metal. A hand snatched his cape and tugged hard, but as soon as he coughed, the force lessened. Batman had leapt forward to seize Matatoa’s arms and detach them from Robin’s cape.

“It’s over, Matatoa,”

“Are you sure you don’t want to make this right, mate? You sure you want don’t want your city protected forever?”

Batman’s jaw set. “You have the wrong man.”

“Eh?”

“You came to Gotham looking for an undefeated warrior.” Batman handed Matatoa over to Superman to restrain before he walked to the boy, who pushed his yellow cape over his head. Maskless and flushed, the boy didn’t raise his eyes, but he accepted the hand Batman offered. “You defeated me three years ago.”

“Huh.” Matatoa looked toward Superman, back to the Justice League looking on, before letting out a long sigh. “Well, I guess that’s it then, isn’t it?”

His fast and lithe movements startled even Superman, who failed to hold the man when he writhed out of the hold and launched himself off the tower. Wonder Woman instantly dove to catch him, but the man dropped with the supernatural speed, which not even the speed of Hermes could match.

Batman manually moved Dick’s eyes away from the horrific and macabre sight, lifting the glimmering blue eyes until they met his own,

“I—I didn’t want him to do that. I didn’t think—I didn’t know—”

“I know,” Batman soothed, wrapping his long cape around the boy’s body and drawing Dick against him. He tried to absorb the boy’s shivering with his warmth and rested his cheek against the boy’s sodden hair. “I know.”

*^*^*

Dick caught the man’s wrist and twisted it, causing the gun to fall, and Dick flicked his lower body upward to connect with Matatoa’s chest. As the man fell backwards, Dick used the desk to propel him to his feet. He vaulted off the desk to snatch the gun, but Matatoa’s leg shot up to throw Dick off course. The boy cringed as his back crashed against the grandfather clock, shattering the glass bottom, but he fought through the pain to get up.

BANG!

The very foundations of the thick wooden door shook and cracked, as someone on the other side attempted to break through.

BANG!

As Matatoa lunged for the gun, the boy pounced upon him.

BANG!

A splash of blue and red flashed behind Matatoa in the picture window as Dick straddled Matatoa and lifted his fist to deliver a punch.

BANG!

Matatoa’s cold fist clasped about Dick’s warm one, and the boy recognized the macabre feeling seeping into bones.

BANG!

It had felt it only once before when the Flying Grayson fell from their trapeze.

BANG!

The icy touch of Death.

BANG!

The boy froze with horrifying trepidation at the faint sparkle of a metal barrel.

BANG!

Bruce broke through the door.

BANG!

*^*^*

“Bruce made a deal through Deadman with someone or another,” Dick muttered as he sat perched on Batman’s chair at the Justice League Round Table at Happy Harbor. Even though Batman left the JLA a little less than three years ago, the members still retained his chair for what they believed to be his inevitable return.

With his arms wrapped around his legs, Dick dropped his chin to his knees and continued, “Every year on the anniversary of my death, from dawn to dawn, my soul and body are reunited, so I may touch and be touched. For every anniversary this occurs, Bruce gives up one year of his life.”

“Then why didn’t we see you before?” Aquaman asked.

“Arthur, see who?” Green Lantern demanded. “There’s no one there!”

Black Canary laid a gentle hand on Dick’s shoulder. “Why can we see you, but he can’t?”

Dick stared blankly ahead, not meeting one of their gazes. “He doesn’t believe in ghosts.”

“Ghosts?” Superman echoed.

Dick shrugged. “That’s all I am now, and as long as you believe I exist, then you can see and touch me on this day. If not…”

“If not....?” Green Arrow prompted, crossing his arms over his chest. Out of anyone, this boy didn’t deserve what was given to him.

Dick ignored the worried gaze. “If not, then I am nothing to you and do not exist.”

Green Lantern snorted and stalked toward the exit. “You people are all crazy.”

“There’s still something I do not understand,” J’onn said as soon as the doors shut behind Green Lantern. “Richard, why could Superman and Batman see you where we couldn’t?”

Batman placed a hand on each of Dick’s shoulders. “You’ve come to terms with his death.”

“What?” Wonder Woman demanded.

“You’ve come to accept his death and moved on. In this way, you cannot see him anymore because he does not exist to you any longer.”

A solemn silence enveloped the room until Dick lifted his head and wiped his sniffles in a napkin Flash offered. “But kiddo, if you don’t mind me asking, why aren’t you at peace?”

“Matatoa is a soul-eater, Mr. Allen, and as long as a piece of my soul is trapped within his body, I can’t be at—” For a moment, Dick’s head snapped up, and he looked to the left of him as if someone stood right next to him. “All right already! I hear you! I’ll tell him, okay? Happy?” Once he let out an aggravated sigh, Dick glanced at Bruce. “Your dad says you need to move on. Your mom doesn’t agree, and they’re fighting back and forth. …Sorry.”

Bruce just tasseled the boy’s hair.

“Ooh-kay,” Green Arrow huffed. “You wanna explain that, kid?”

“It’s like I said, Mr. Queen. I can’t be in the afterlife but not exactly on this plane anymore, either. So, I can hear what’s going on in that plane, even see a little hear and there, but I can’t talk to those of it. They only know my answer because they see what we do on this one, so Bruce’s parents like to talk to him through me a lot of time.”

“So…” Black Canary drawled before placing a hand on Dick’s. “Now the big question: How can we help you?”

“Yeah, that’s got to be something,” Flash buzzed. “Maybe a few experiments, see how we can get your body—”

“Thank you, Mr. Allen, but there’s nothing you can do,” Dick said helplessly. “The answer lies with Matatoa. Until we can find a way to release that piece of my soul from him…” Dick tipped his head back against Batman’s arm. “…but now that he’s disappeared from the morgue, we’ll have to find him all over again.”

“Later,” Superman decreed as he reached forward to grab Dick’s forearm warmly. “Right now, I believe it would be best for you to see your friends.”

Whatever brightness that remained on Dick’s face faded as he shook his head. “No, Kal. I—I can’t.”

“What do you mean, ‘you can’t’?” Green Arrow accused. “Kid, Roy would want to—”

“Roy is doing great as the leader of the Teen Titans. He’s done things I wasn’t able to do, and Donna and Garth and Wally have all survived my death. It’ll…It’ll be better this way…for all us.”
“How can you believe that, Richard?” Wonder Woman asked, agape. “The children—”

“—are going to become adults, grow-up and go to college, get married and have kids.” Fresh tears shimmered in Dick’s eyes as he averted them. “They’ve already moved on, while I’m…I’m stuck in that one moment forever. I’m never going to age. I’m never going to have kids or become a lawyer or…it’ll be set back for all of them if they knew. This—This is the way it should be.”

Superman pushed back Dick’s bangs. “But—”

The door swished open. “Hey, what’s this we hear about Grayson being alive?”

Dick’s head popped up at the vehement shout, and Roy Harper, Speedy, treaded into the room like he owned it, leading the flush-faced Wally and Donna. Garth trailed behind, his purple eyes filled with tears.

They looked straight at Dick as if looking through him, as if they never saw him.

Except Wally, who locked eyes with the Boy Wonder.

“D—Dick?”

Dick patted Superman’s hand. “It’s okay. Really,” he said and flipped onto the Round Table. He came to the end when Wally stood and looked up with haunted and guilty eyes. “You’re…alive?” A question, an uncertainty.

Donna snatched the speedster’s shoulders. “Wally, who do you—”

Dick stood at the very edge at the table, his glistening eyes poring into his best friend’s. “No,” he whispered. “You know the funny part of all this? It wasn’t being Robin, Batman’s partner, or even Dick Grayson, Bruce Wayne’s ward, that got me killed. It was being a Flying Grayson. I mean…it was like I was meant to die with parents along.”

Allowing the tears to flow freely, Dick flipped to the ground and walked toward the Teen Titans. Donna’s ponytail would have smacked him in the face. Roy’s quiver would have hit his shoulder. Garth’s arm would have elbowed Dick in the stomach. And Wally—Wally ran right through Dick as he tried to catch his best friend. He came to screeching halt, his yellow boots smoking against the ground.

As Dick disappeared through the door behind him, Kid Flash grabbed his biceps. “I—Is anyone else cold all of a sudden?”

*^*^*

Numbness.

Shock.

Pain.

Blinding agony.

Though he wore the shield, Dick was not bulletproof, and that proved true when his arm, which had reeled back to punch, diverted to his chest, where it lightly touched the once golden and red S now tainted a sickly shade of crimson.

A trickle of blood seeped from the corner of his mouth.

His glassy, horrified eyes focused upon Bruce’s, his mentor’s wide and frightened, and he flinched ever lightly as Matatoa’s deadly hand cupped his cheek once more.

“Latcho drom,” he muttered in Romanes.

Good journey.

Dick felt the slight movement, felt his back smack into the floor as Matatoa slithered out from underneath him and take off toward the picture window. As the world suddenly darkened, an unfathomable pain pulsated in his heart with every ragged breath. He barely heard the shattering of the picture window in the study and instead, saw the movement of a dark figure dart toward the window.

“Bruce…?”

The figure stopped in mid-stride and came closer, kneeling on Dick’s side. He scrunched his face and let out a long hiss as his already throbbing chest was pulled into cradling arms.

“I’m here, son,” Bruce Wayne choked. “I’m here.”

A strong, unremitting hand clutched his own, but Dick couldn’t feel its warmth amidst the coldness.

“Hold on, Dick. Just hold on.”

*^*^*

Dick shed his wet costume once he and Bruce returned to the cave and instead chose jeans, a T-shirt, and a sweatshirt. As Bruce pushed his cowl off his head and read the file upon the screen, Dick jumped backwards onto the mainframe and clutched his legs to his chest.

“Bruce?”

“Hmm?”

A soft sigh. “I—I saw you…before the Justice League came. It—It looked like you were contemplating Matatoa’s offer.”

Bruce continued to stare at the screen as if Dick never spoke.

“I mean,” Dick continued, raking a hand through his still wet hair, “that is what you want, isn’t it? For Gotham to be protected forever?”

Bruce clicked up another file.

“Bruce?”

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, Bruce lowered his eyes. “I already made a deal with someone, Dick. I don’t need to make one with the Devil, too.”

Dick sighed and dropped his chin to his knees. “Your mom says you need to sleep.”

Bruce’s voice remained stoic. “I’ll sleep when I’m dead.”

“Your dad just hrrumphed. Every so often he’s been adding, ‘And this helps how?’” Dick blinked. “He means your crusade, not—”

“Not trying to save you. Yes. I knew that much.”

Bruce nodded, and Dick sighed. The younger man knew what they meant. Their deaths. If Bruce could get over them, then perhaps he would find some peace. That wouldn’t happen. Perhaps if Dick would have heard them before he’d…but he couldn’t have, and now with Matatoa gone and Dick still stuck, there would no convincing Bruce to stop his new crusade.

“Your dad’s pretty cool. I wish I could talk to him one-on-one instead of…this,” Dick added lowly. “He…He said I can refer to him as my grandfather if I wanted.”

Bruce wasn’t transparent, but he’d gotten better to burying his bewilderment of Dick’s revelations.

This time, however, he seemed pleased.

So Dick continued, “He…He has that glimmer of pride in his eye, though, y’know? He doesn’t say it, but it’s there.”

Bruce stopped typing. “You know?”

“Yeah, I know. It’s the same one you hold for me.”

A few moments passed in a comfortable silence before Bruce’s fingers exhausted on the mainframe. “I only contemplated Matatoa’s offer insofar that you would not be alone in your plight. However, it occurred to me that you would be forever damned to walk this purgatory if Matatoa was not captured and your soul released.”

Dick narrowed his glistening eyes. “You think I’d want you to be here, damned like me? You think I’d want that for you and would be selfish enough to wish it upon you?”

“No.”

“Don’t you want to move on, Bruce? Don’t you want to find peace and finally let me go?”

“It will never happen.”

“How do you know?”

“I know.”

“How?”

*^*^*

“Get the para—”

“No need!” a yellow and red clad boy stopped just in front in Bruce. “What do you—OHMYGOD! DICK!”

Bruce never looked up at Kid Flash as he watched Dick’s chest stop, saw the boy’s glazed over eyes, and his mouth never close. He cursed loudly, pressing two fingers into the boy’s neck.

His own heart stopped when he failed to feel Dick’s pulse.

He ignored Kid Flash’s desperate squeal into his comm. unit as he laid Dick flat upon the ground and tore open Dick’s costume, revealing what was left of the boy’s chest. His own hands saturated crimson, he growled, “No, I won’t let you go that easily. Fight, Dick.”

He pressed thirty times, gave one breath.

“Fight, damnit!”

Another thirty depressions, one rescue breath.

“You will not give up!”

Thirteen. The boy was thirteen.

“I won’t let you go!”

Blood squirted from the boy’s wound, dribbled from the corner of his blue-tainted lips.

“I. Won’t. Let. You.”

Soft but ever strong hands covered his own. “Bruce.”

He continued to pump, having long forgotten the rescue breaths. “BREATHE, DAMN YOU!”

“Bruce, stop. It’s over. There’s nothing more you can you do.”

Bruce’s shaking hands fisted in the boy’s shield, and he shook him once. “No…no, I can save him. I can…”

Tears coursed Superman’s face as he snatched Bruce’s hands and tried to pry them away from Dick’s cold body. “Bruce, please…he’s gone.”

Bruce stared down at the bloodied body, the face and eyes void of life. This wasn’t his son, not the boy who defied...Oh, God. Just like his parents, the boy…

“He’s gone.”

*^*^*

Bruce lifted a hand to Dick’s cheek, cradling the soft flesh with his Kevlar glove. “I already did…once.”

Dick’s eyes softened until they glistened, and Bruce let out a deep breath as the tears rolled down the boy’s cheek but never touched his father’s glove. Instead, the warmth against his glove vanished, and the tears proceeded until it latched onto Dick’s chin and finally plummeted onto his shirt. Bruce closed his own eyes as his hand seeped through Dick, and he retracted it to save him from the chilly touch of Death.

Another year passed for both of them.

Dick squeezed his legs tighter. “So, Two-Face escaped from police headquarters.”

Bruce swiveled back toward the computer and clicked a few buttons. “He killed his court-appointed lawyer before stealing a policeman’s uniform and simply walking out the front door.”

“Do you think he chews Double Mint gum?”

Without ever looking at the boy, Bruce swatted at Dick’s head.

Despite only being a soul, Dick still ducked. “Hey, it was just a question.”

“And it was pertinent to the investigation how?”

“And reading Wayne Enterprises’ stock quotes is pertinent to the investigation how?”

“I’m researching.”

“You’re researching, maybe, but not for the case…”

*^*^*

As the sun rose over the gravestones on the hill besides Wayne Manor, thirteen fresh roses greeted the morning light from the base of its youngest addition.

The End

WARNING:

I’m not big on giving warnings or telling readers that something’s depressing because, well, if I didn’t write the story right, then you might think it’s hilarious. But just in case—warning, this might be depressing. Kanny, you do NOT want to read.