In Need Of . . .

By AJ

. . . A Father

Part 1

"I try, but it's hard. It's almost year. I don't know if I can do this, but I must. I'm turning 11 in a few days, and yet, I don't know if I can face it without them. I got a package from the Haly Circus today. They found several things in the trailer that we used as our home away from home. I guess when everything happened I didn't have a chance to take anything with me, just the clothes on my back. The box was pretty large. Haven't opened it yet. Seeing that label just got me thinking about Mom and Dad. Why did they leave me? They didn't leave me, they were taken from me."

Dick Grayson wrote in his journal, something that he started ever since he learned to write. His parents had encouraged him to do it. It was a way for him to remember every place they would travel to for the circus, ever since he could remember. And somewhere along the way, he stopped, after his parents had been murdered. What no one knew was that it was the day before his 10th birthday when it happened. And with his guardian Bruce Wayne, everything seemed so unreal. Within hours after his parent's deaths, he was taken by Batman, not only for his own protection, but to aid him in fighting Tony "Boss" Zucco. He begged Batman to train him so he could avenge his parents' deaths. Batman reluctantly agreed and then he was standing in front of a table that held nothing but a lighted candle, and swearing to fight crime and to stay on the path of right. Then the next thing he knew he was going to court and Bruce Wayne was asking to adopt him, but the court had denied his petition. Somehow he had managed within that time to get permission from a relative on his Mother's side, and that relative had said yes, but the court only allowed Bruce to become his guardian. He knew very little about the man other than the fact he was Batman and that he had lost his parents to violence as well. The next thing Dick knew Bruce and he were attending his parents' double funeral in a cemetery in Newtown. The circus left town the day before, without a word.

"Bruce stood right by my side with his hand on my shoulder," Dick Grayson added to his journal. "I don't remember crying. I just remember seeing their faces, and their bodies lying there in the sawdust, and the blood. I mostly remember the rage that I felt. I held it in as long as I could. Right after the funeral, I began training, first showing Bruce what I knew. It felt great to be up on that trapeze, but it was also bittersweet. There was no one to catch me if I fell. I didn't know if Bruce would."

Dick stopped writing, looking at the words. He still didn't know if Bruce would catch him, this time meaning something totally different. Over the past year, Bruce taught him about criminology and that being a detective was just as important as being a fighter. Being able to solve a mystery to know who committed the crime and how, was just as valuable a skill as it was to fight the thugs who were committing the crime at that moment. And yet, Dick could not help recalling, Bruce's words during those first crucial hours when they were together.

"I can't replace your parents. From what everyone was saying about them, they were good people. I will guide you in whatever way that I can."

"I didn't quite understand what he meant," Dick wrote. "Though we've been able to work together, live together, something's missing."

Dick closed his journal and turned out the light, even though he could not sleep. School was out for the summer, which was a new thing for him. He started school mid semester, having to catch up with everyone else. It wasn't hard since he proved to be a very apt student, but at the same time, it took a lot of getting used to, being in a classroom setting. And he had to face a new situation, being bullied, and not being able to fight back without revealing his secret identity. He tried to talk to Alfred about it, but Alfred told him just to ignore the boys. They would eventually come around and see Dick as one of them, but that didn't work. He tried to talk to Bruce, but all Bruce did was remind him what might happen if he did fight back. Even so, his secret identity as Robin was starting to get attention.

Dick recalled after they had taken down Zucco, Bruce started over with his training, trying to teach him that rage could get him killed, if he did not channel it. If ever he felt rage, Bruce told Dick that he needed to work it out another way. He limited his time out in the field, treating it as another training exercise, until Robin could fight without feeling the rage that could cause him to make mistakes, or to channel it so if he did feel the rage, he would still keep a cool head. Time then seemed to fly by, and he was once again going out on patrol more, proving that he could handle himself well and not let the rage get the better of him, but at the same time, something was missing.

Then, two weeks ago, things started going down hill, and Dick didn't know why, not at first. He was having nightmares, waking up in a cold sweat with tears running down his face. He didn't understand what was going on, and Bruce seemed oblivious to his plight, though in truth, Dick hadn't really told him much, just that he was having trouble sleeping.

"Anxious about an upcoming exam?" Bruce had asked. "You'll do fine."

But that wasn't it. Suddenly the images in his nightmares became clearer, seeing the faces of his parents, over and over. And then he was seeing Bruce, turning away from him, away as if rejecting him. Batman loomed, but this time, Batman's face was stony and terrible to look at, as if he was the one who committed the crime and Batman was his judge. Even Alfred showed up in his dreams. His face had none of the gentleness that was part of his make-up. It held nothing but cool distain for the orphaned circus performer, as if he was in trouble for something he had done, but did not know what it was. There was no warmth, as if all the love had evaporated with the death of his parents.

Looking at the calendar, he realized what it was that was coming up. It was then that Dick realized he had not really mourned their deaths, had not really said a proper goodbye. Oh, he stood at their funeral, even watched as they covered his parents' coffins with dirt, but at the time, he had not really mourned their deaths. He raged inside, like a storm ready to break.

The day loomed closer and his heart became more anxious. He needed to do something, to remember that day, but also to really mourn. And after everything he had been through what he really wanted, he could not have, or thought he could not have, because of what Bruce had said, and what Dick believed were the words behind his statement. A deep sadness engulfed him and then a resolve. He knew what he had to do. Going down into the bat cave, Dick plugged in his question into the bat computer and got an answer. Then he plugged it into the directory to see where in relation he was from where he needed to go. Newtown was three miles outside of Gotham almost a suburb, but it was 20 miles north from the Wayne Estate, and the nearest road to Newtown was still five miles. It would take him most of the night, and a good part of the next day. He had at least a couple more days to decide if that was what he wanted. He shut off the electronic directory and took the punch cards with him as he left the bat cave.

"Did you finish your research?" Alfred asked as he came out of Bruce's study.

"Yes, Alfred."

"Good. Dinner should be ready soon"

"Isn't Bruce home yet?"

"He called while you were in the bat cave. An emergency meeting had been called at Wayne Foundation. He will not be home until real late."

Going back up to his room, he placed the information on his desk, trying to decide what to do next. There was still time, and he hadn't opened the box that he received. Dick pulled out a small penknife and ran it along the tape sealing the box. He opened the flaps and the first thing he saw was a bunch of newspapers, which he removed. Inside he found several notebooks, which turned out to be his journals that he kept. He was glad they hadn't been lost. Removing the journals, he found another layer of items underneath, some of them were papers that both his father and mother kept and he would have to go through them later. Removing the papers, he found an old stuffed animal, a tiger that Pop Haly had given him when he was real small. There was also a scrapbook of photos and cards. He flipped through those and his eyes locked on a few of them, trying to recall his parents' faced before their untimely deaths, before they were murdered. As he removed each item, the images of his parents came into view. When he got close to the bottom, his hands hesitated before they reached in. The red and green costumes glared out at him. He carefully removed them then noticed several colorfully wrapped boxes in the bottom, birthday gifts, for a birthday party that had not taken place because of what happened. His eyes returned to the costumes folded neatly on the floor next to him. His hands brushed the fabric. His was on top. He removed it and found his mother's; it was filled with creases. His nose twitched as he caught a scent that he had not smelled since that night. He brought the fabric up to his face and breathed in the scent. He could still smell his mother's favorite perfume, jasmine with a hint of vanilla. His father's costume was on the bottom. He picked it up as well and also smelled his father's aftershave. Clear as day, their faces blossomed in his mind and he remembered their last day together. He could feel their love as tangible as the cloth he held in his hands. And he knew what was missing. Without a second thought, Dick left the contents of the box scattered on the floor, then picked up the punch cards on his desk. He grabbed a backpack, a flashlight from the shelf in his room, and a light jacket. Without another word, he silently moved down the stairs and walked out the door.

Continues with Part 2