Disclaimer:  This story is a work of fiction, set in the Potatoverse.  The 
characters of Dick Grayson, Barbara Gordon, Bruce Wayne, Dinah 
Lance, Cassandra Cain, Tim Drake, Roy Harper, Lian Harper, James 
Gordon, and John and Mary Grayson are property of DC Comics/Time 
Warner and have been used without permission.  Spud and Filb belongs to 
me.  Tim's little brother belongs to Kerrie Smith.  No profit is being made 
from this story.

***

Better Than a Necktie
by Smitty (smittywing@yahoo.com)

***

"Now hold still," Barbara Gordon Grayson admonished Spud, 
tugging on the ends of the bow tie around his neck.

"Aw, this bites," Spud protested.

Babs scowled but thought better of it.  "Could be worse," she 
informed him.

"How?"

"I could make you wear a sweater vest."

"Oh, foul!"

"See?  Babs tugged on the tie again to straighten it.  "I can always 
come up with something worse."

"Hey."  Dick appeared in the doorway, looping the end of his 
necktie into the half-formed Windsor knot and tugging it through.  "You 
two almost ready?"

"Soon as Spud grabs his jacket," Barbara confirmed.  She licked 
her fingertips and made another hapless attempt to smash Spud's curls into 
some semblance of order.

"Ew, stop it!" Spud protested, running for the bed where his sport 
coat and Buckshot, his stuffed horse, were waiting for him.

Babs grinned at him.  "A little spit never hurt anyone," she told 
him.

Spud just grumbled as he shrugged into his jacket, first one arm, 
then the other as he switched possession of the horse to the other hand.

"The flowers are in the fridge?" Dick asked, shrugging on his own 
sport coat.

"Already in the vases."  Babs fingercombed a few loose strands of 
hair into place and looked up at her husband.  "Ready?"

"As I'll ever be."

***

"Where are we?" Spud asked, discarding his seat belt to get on his 
knees.  The windows of the wheelchair-modified SUV were a little too 
high for him to look through comfortably.

Dick and Babs exchanged a glance and Dick looked back at him 
from the passenger seat.  "We're at the cemetery," he said gently.  "Both 
our dads passed on, so we like to go remember them."

"But they're dead."

"I know.  We'll show you."

Spud, skeptical of what he was going to be shown, slid from the 
seat when Babs stopped the car and waited for Dick to open the door.  
Dick let him out and went on to open the back of the car.  Spud hopped to 
the ground and followed to see what they were carting around.  

"Close the door," Babs reminded him as the lift lowered her to the 
ground.

Spud tore his eyes away from Dick only long enough to run back 
and slam the door closed and then returned to the trunk, where Dick was 
extracting two plastic vases of flowers.

"What are those for?" Spud asked.

"To put on the graves," Dick replied.

"What's a grave?"

"It's where they bury people when they die.  Then they put a 
headstone to mark the place."

Spud gazed around at all the headstones, big and small, simple 
curves and elaborate figures.  "There are dead people here?" he asked, his 
voice betraying a tiny bit of fear.

Dick bent at the knees to look him in the eye.  "You can't see 
them," he promised.  "It's just a place to remember them."

"But—"

"Look around.  Do you see any dead people?"

Spud shook his head tentatively.

"It'll be ok.  Come on."  Dick held out his hand.  Spud took it 
warily and clung closely to Dick as they followed Babs down a paved 
path.

Barbara veered off into the grass before a line of medium-sized 
headstones.  Spud started to follow, but Dick held him back.  

"We'll stay here," he said.  "Let Babs talk to her dad in private for a 
couple minutes."

Spud's eyes widened as he watched Babs' mouth move.  She did 
indeed seem to be talking to the headstone.

"Does he talk back?" the boy queried, holding his horse tight to his 
chest.  

Dick looked down and blinked when he saw Buckshot.  Where had 
Spud been hiding that?  

"Not really," he replied to Spud's question.  "Not out loud."

"Oh."

Dick winced, wondering if he was confusing Spud even more.

"What happened to Babs' dad?  Did he get shot, too?"

Dick smiled sadly.   "No.  He'd been shot before, but he lived.  He 
died saving a child."

He had Spud's full attention now.

"What happened?"

"He was in a building—a bank.  Some bad men had put a bomb in 
the basement.  They were going to rob the bank when the bomb went off.  
But there was a structural problem.  It had stayed standing when we had a 
big earthquake, but there was something broken and somehow, it didn't get 
fixed."

"So the whole bank fell down?"

"One side fell down.  It hurt a lot of people.  Barbara's father was 
in the side of the building that was ok.  But he was a policeman—"

"Like you?"

"Sort of.  He was in charge of all the policemen in Gotham.  And 
he got that way by being a very good policeman.  So the first thing he did 
was call for backup and then went into the other part of the building to 
help people.

"There was a little girl trapped on the second floor.  She had gone 
to see her daddy at work and was in the side of the building that fell 
down."

	"Was her daddy hurt?"

"Only a little bit.  He had gone to the other side of the building for 
a minute."  He'd had a broken arm and a concussion, Dick recalled.  "But 
the little girl was trapped.  So Jim—Commissioner Gordon—climbed up 
through some of the concrete that had fallen and tried to get her out.

"He got her out, but some more stuff fell on him and he was hurt."

"Oh.  And then he died?"

Dick glanced sadly at Babs and thought of the hours of work and 
sweat and terror that had been spent digging through the collapsed 
building and of the hours Jim Gordon had hung on, his good humor 
buoying up the spirits of the girl trapped with him.  He thought of the end, 
and felt tears well in his own eyes.

"Yeah.  And then he died."

***

"Spud!"  Barbara waved at the small boy standing by Dick and 
gestured him closer.  "Come here!"

Slowly, Spud made his way to her side.  He looked sad, she 
thought, so she wrapped an arm around his shoulders and squeezed.

"This is my father's grave," she said by way of introduction.  "His 
name was James, too, remember?"

Spud nodded solemnly.  He looked at the stone.  It had words 
carved in it.  James.  That was his name, too.

"Daddy?  This is Spud.  I think Dick was just telling him about 
you."  She looked over to Spud for confirmation and got a nod for her 
trouble.

But just for a minute, Spud knew what Dick had meant when he 
said that dead people didn't talk out loud.

***

"Where are we going now?" he asked, trailing Babs as she pushed 
herself along the path, with Dick bringing up the rear with the second vase 
of flowers.

"We're going to visit Dick's dad," Babs explained.

Spud turned back to look at Dick and nearly fell over an untied 
shoelace.

"Whoops, careful there," Dick admonished, catching Spud's 
shoulder.  "Might want to tie that."

Spud fiddled with his lace for a while, then just jammed it into the 
side of the shoe.  Mommy and Scorch had taught him to tie his sneakers, 
but the laces on the stupid brown shoes Babs had made him wear were 
skinny and slippery.

"Here, let me give you a hand with that."  Dick was kneeling in 
front of him, the vase of flowers on the ground.  "Look," Dick said, 
making eye contact with Spud.  "The trick to tying these shoes is to hold 
the laces tight and close to the shoe, ok?"  He finished tying off the bow 
and double knotted the shoes.  

"Hey, look," he pointed out, standing up.  "We're almost here."  
Grabbing the flowers in one hand and Spud's hand in the other, Dick cut 
through the grass and paused before a large headstone.

"Hi Mom, hi Dad," he addressed the stone.  "I've got someone I'd 
like you to meet."  He placed his hand on Spud's back.  "This is Spud.  
He's staying with me and Babs."

Dick continued to talk to his parents for a minute and Spud tuned 
out.  He glanced back at Babs who was still sitting on the path.  She saw 
him looking at her and waggled her fingers at him.  He abandoned Dick 
and walked over to her.

"Did you do it?" he asked her.

She nodded.  "Just like you told me.  Are you sure you didn't want 
to give it to him yourself?"

Spud nodded.  "I'm sure."

Babs glanced over his shoulder.  "Shh, he's coming."

"Hey there."  Dick walked up behind Spud and squeezed his 
shoulder.  "You guys ready to keep going?"

"All set," Babs said, smiling prettily at him.

Dick sensed a coverup, but played along.  "To the manor!"

***

Although Dick had a key to Wayne Manor, he knew Alfred would 
have a coronary if he wasn’t permitted to do his butler duties, so they rang 
the bell.

The door opened as quickly as if Alfred was standing right behind 
it—which he probably was.

“Miss Barbara!  Master Dick!  It’s such a pleasure to have you 
here!” Alfred exclaimed.  He always felt as though the manor was empty 
without the ‘children.’  “And you must be Master Spud.”

“My name’s James,” the young boy informed him, solemnly.

"Ah."  Alfred nodded, solemnly.  "James it shall be, then."

***

“Master Bruce, Ms. Dinah, Miss Cassandra, the Graysons  have 
arrived,” Alfred announced, ushering them into the drawing room.  
“Dinner will be served shortly.”

“Excellent, thank you, Alfred,” Bruce said, rising to meet his son’s 
family.

“Happy Father’s Day, Bruce,” Dick said immediately, clapping the 
older man on the shoulder.

“Thanks,” Bruce replied, returning the squeeze.  “Hello, Barbara,” 
he added, kissing her on the cheek.

“Hi, Bruce.  Thanks for inviting us to dinner.  And Dinah!”  What 
are you doing here?” she asked her friend, with a teasing glance to cover 
up the tears that had stung her eyes after Spud's announcement at the door.

Dinah lifted her shoulders in a careless gesture and winked at 
Barbara.

"Spud.  I'm very glad to see you again," Bruce continued, holding 
out his hand out to the small boy.

Spud took the proffered hand and shook enthusiastically.  “My real 
name’s James,” he told Bruce seriously.

“Is it, now?” Bruce said thoughtfully.  “I once had a very good 
friend named James.  I miss him a lot.”

“That’s ok,” Spud said gallantly.  “I’ll be your friend.”

A grin threatened to break out on Bruce’s face.  “Thank you.  I 
appreciate that.”

Spud glanced furtively around the room.  “Does *she* wear 
‘special pajamas’, too?” he asked, with a discreet nod to Dinah.

“Yes,” Bruce acknowledged, remembering Dick’s explanation of 
their 'code', an ironic smile briefly gracing his face.  “Yes, she does."

"Which is why she's here today," Babs announced with a smirk.

Dinah glared at her.  “Lian wanted to take her daddy out to dinner, 
since it was Father’s Day, so Bruce was kind enough to offer to feed me 
for a night.”

“And they say there’s no such thing as a free lunch,” Barbara 
replied innocently.  “So where are Lian and Roy going to dinner?”

“O’Shaughnessy’s,” Dinah grinned.  “She’s paying.”

“Oh, really?” Dick asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Yep.  I paid her to program the VCR to tape ‘The Brave and the 
Bold’ next week while I’m in Macau.”   Dinah’s grin was wide and 
wicked.

“Tim at his dad’s house?” Dick asked, shoving his hands into his 
pockets.

"He's already been by," Bruce said.  

"He was dragging that poor brother of his with him," Dinah added.  
"Kid was wearing this god-awful sweater vest.  Argyle, even."

"What a dweeb," Spud spoke up.

"Hey," Babs said, poking Spud in the shoulder.  "Don't forget how 
close you came to  having to wear one."

"I don’t have one."

"We would have gone out and bought one," Babs promised.  
"Now, go say hello to Dinah.  She's my friend."

"You're Babs' friend?" Spud asked in surprise.

"Yes.  Babs has friends."  Babs rolled her eyes and shook her head.  
"Now go be polite."

"Hi."  Dinah cut in between them.  She leaned forward, resting one 
hand on her knee and holding the other one out to Spud.  "I'm Dinah."

"Hi."  Spud stuck his hand in hers and shook it a little less 
enthusiastically than he had Bruce's.  "Do you have a secret name?"

"Yes indeedy.  It's Black Canary."

"Oh."  Spud furrowed his brow.  "I've never heard of you."

"Spud," Barbara groaned, covering her eyes as Dick and Bruce 
chuckled.

"That's ok," Dinah replied, ignoring the rest of the people in the 
room.  "It's Babs' fault.  She's been slacking on the PR."

"PR!" Barbara exclaimed.  "I'll tell you where you can put your 
PR—"

"Ahem," Alfred interrupted.  "Dinner is served."

***

"Hi Cassandra."  Spud lingered in the doorway until Cassandra 
Cain walked into the dining room.

Cass grinned cheerily at him and ruffled his hair.

Spud beamed.  He was in heaven.

"Come on, Spud, get moving," Babs called from her place at the 
table.  "You're blocking the doorway."

Well, almost in heaven.

***	

"How's the move coming?" Dick asked Cass as everyone started on 
their salads.

Cass lit up.  "Is good!" she replied.  "Apartment stalking now!"

"Apartment hunting," Babs corrected.

Cassandra frowned.  "Hunting, stalking, mean same."

"But—"

"Looked at studio," Cassandra told Dick.  "I *love*!"

"No studios," Bruce grumbled, sticking a forkful of lettuce in his 
mouth.

"You and Tim are going to live in a TV studio?" Spud asked, eyes 
wide.

"No, apartment studio!"

"Studio apartments have no bedroom," Barbara clarified.

"Oh.  Where're you gonna sleep?  On the couch?"

"They could just put their beds in the living room," Dinah pointed 
out.

"There will be no studio apartment," Bruce grumbled.  "With as 
much as I'm paying him, Tim can certainly afford a two-bedroom 
apartment.  Two bedrooms.  With doors."

"That's what Tim say," Cass agreed.  "So Kon can visit!"

Bruce scowled and crunched his lettuce.

Dinah smiled at Cass.  "That's so sweet.  Don't you think, Bruce?"

Bruce drained his water glass in one deep swallow and was saved 
from further comment by Alfred with the main course.

"This looks great, Alfred," Dick complimented as the meat, 
potatoes and hot vegetable were passed around the table.

“What is this?” Spud asked, poking at his dinner.

“It is Roast Pheasant,” Alfred informed him, regally.	

“Roast Pheasant?” Spud asked, in disgust.

“It’s just fancy chicken,” Dinah told him, leaning across the table.

“Really?” Spud asked her, wide-eyed.

“Really,” she confirmed with a nod.

Alfred looked scandalized.

Spud dug in.

Another crisis averted.

***

“Spud, join me in the drawing room,” Bruce requested as dinner 
was drawing to a close.  “Everyone, please excuse me for leaving the table 
early.  I just want a chance to talk with my grandson.”

“Take your time,” Dinah told him.  “We’re going to try to con 
extra dessert out of Alfred."

“C’mon, Spud-uh, James,” Bruce said, inclining his head toward 
the door.

“I want extra dessert, too,” Spud protested.

“We’ll get some later,” Bruce promised. “Or maybe Cassandra will 
sneak you out some.”

Spud directed a wink at Batgirl, who smiled at him.

“I think she likes me,” he told Bruce as they left the room.	

“Really?” Bruce asked him, amused.

“Oh, yeah,” Spud confirmed.  “She’s hot for me.”

“I see.”  

They entered the smaller room and Alfred immediately appeared 
with two burgundy smoking jackets and a small tray.  He helped Bruce 
into his, and then held out Spud’s, a miniature replica of the larger one 
Bruce wore.  He handed Bruce a snifter of brandy and a large cigar.  To 
Spud he handed a Shirley Temple and offered him a choice from a box of 
lollipops.  Spud chose a root beer one.  Not because he especially like root 
beer, but it was the same color as Bruce’s cigar.

“Will there be anything else?” Alfred asked, crisply.

“No, thank you, Alfred,” Bruce replied.

“Very good, sir.”  Alfred left the room.

“So…” Bruce began, settling in an oversized armchair.  Spud 
crawled into the one next to him, the lollipop held in the corner of his 
mouth.  “Tell me, James.  What do you think of living with Dick and 
Barbara?”

Spud gave Bruce a confidential look.  “That boy’s whipped,” he 
announced.

***

"What was that all about?" Barbara asked, waving away the second 
helping of tiramisu Alfred offered her.

"I don't know, but if Bruce is thinking Spud's going to be the next 
Robin, he's got a surprise coming to him," Dick muttered, taking his 
second helping gratefully.

"Tim is Robin," Cassandra reminded him, slightly alarmed.

"Don't worry," Dinah told her.  "Bruce likes Tim.  He can bully the 
kid into anything.  Hey, Alfred, can I have some whipped cream on my 
second piece?"

"Of course, Miss Dinah."

Dinah looked back to the table to see Babs glaring at her.

"What?"

***

"Did Dick tell you that it's very important that secret names stay 
secret?"  Bruce held his brandy snifter but didn't drink from it.  Instead, he 
brought the glass to his nose and sniffed cautiously.

"Yup," Spud assured him.  "'Cause home has to be safe.  And if 
bad people knew where Nightwing lived, then they might follow him 
home."

Bruce nodded slowly.  "You know that's the same for Robin and 
Batgirl and Black Canary…and Batman."

Spud nodded vigorously.   "It's a big secret," he agreed.  "Even 
Filb doesn’t know."

"Right."  The corners of Bruce's mouth turned up.  "You have to 
assume that no one knows unless Dick tells you otherwise."

"I know."  Spud sat in his oversized armchair, frowning down at 
his ankles and feet—the only parts of him that didn't fit on the chair.  He 
used his tongue to shove his lollipop to the other side of his mouth.  "Can I 
ask a question?"

"Yes, you may."

"Oh, I thought of another question.  Can I ask that first?"

"Go ahead."

"Does Alfred know?"

"Yes, he does."

"Does he wear special pajamas, too?"

Bruce blinked.  "No," he said deliberately.  "No, he most certainly 
does not.  Alfred is a great help to us, though."

"Oh, ok.  Like Babs?"

"A little bit.  Alfred doesn't use the computer quite as much.  And 
he only helps the…family.  Babs helps lots of people."

"Ok."

"What was the first question?"  Bruce set his brandy down, 
untouched, and ran the cigar under his nose.

"Oh, right.  Why are you Batman?"

"You mean, why did I pick a Bat as my symbol?"

"Nah.  I figured it was 'cause they're scary."

"Well…yes.  Actually."

"Was your dad Batman, too?"

"Was—how did you get that idea?"

"Well, Dick is Nightwing.  And you're Batman.  So I thought 
maybe your dad was Batman.  Or someone else."

"No.  My father died.  A long time ago."

"Oh.  Scorch died.  He was my brother.  I don't have a father."

"I know.  My mother died the same night.  I didn't want that to 
happen to anyone ever again.  So I became Batman.  To protect people."

Spud scowled into his Shirley Temple.  "My mommy died, too.  
Scorch told me.  We had to run away because Mommy didn't come home."

Bruce nodded.  He'd hacked into the Blüdhaven Police databases.  
He knew the details.

Spud looked up at him.  "Do you miss your mommy and daddy?"

Bruce's jaw tightened.  "Every day, James.  Every day."

***

"What are they doing in there?" Babs asked, stirring creamer into 
her third cup of coffee.  

"You haven't been online in what, almost three hours?' Dinah 
asked.  "Getting twitchy?"

Babs scowled at her.  "Dick's usually out by eleven.  We'll never 
get out of here in time."

"The world won't end if I'm an hour late," Dick admitted mildly.  
"But we do need to get going."

"Bruce's world really *will* end if he's an hour late," Dinah 
pointed out, nibbling whipped cream off the edge of her fork.  She sighed 
and very deliberately set the fork on the edge of her plate.  "There's only 
one thing to do.  I'm going in after him."  She pushed herself back from 
the table with a flourish and stood dramatically.  

"I'm going with you," Dick decided suddenly.  "And don't believe 
he won't get an earful if he's trying to talk Spud into Spandex.  That kid 
doesn't need any encouragement."

Babs looked forlornly at Cassandra, who was still sitting down the 
table, happily eating her third piece of tiramisu, then down at her coffee.

"Coffee is my friend," she announced to no one.

***

"So, you treating my best friend right?" Dinah asked Dick as they 
walked down the wide halls of Wayne Manor.

"Of course.  You treating my sorry excuse for a father figure 
right?"

Dinah cracked a grin.  "We're not sleeping together."

"Oh, I've been assured of that many a time."

"You didn't turn out too lousy, y'know.  He couldn't have been that 
bad a father."

"I'm here on Father's Day, aren't I?"

"Doesn't count.  Alfred feeds you."

"Don’t force me to get mushy, Dinah.  You'll be sorry."

"Ok, ok."  Dinah grinned and held up her hands in supplication.  
"You win.  Just don’t make him mad.  He gets all sulky and difficult and 
then he's just no fun at all."

"Right, and you need him in a good mood so you can not sleep 
with him."

Dinah was about to answer when they met Alfred coming out of 
the drawing room.  The gentleman's gentleman was holding a silver tray 
on the palm of his hand.  A full brandy snifter, a nearly full Shirley 
Temple, an uncut cigar and a soggy lollipop stick rest gracefully on a 
white linen doily.  

"What are they doing in there, Alfred?" Dick asked, surveying the 
contents of the tray.

"See for yourself, sir."  Alfred opened the door of the drawing 
room with one hand.

Dick and Dinah peeked in.  They could see a roaring fire and the 
backs of two armchairs.  At an affirming nod from Alfred, they crept 
forward, looking around the chairs.  

Bruce and Spud were asleep, leaning against the sides of their 
respective chairs.  They wore matching smoking jackets. 

"Well would you look at that," Dinah marveled.  "He really does 
sleep."

"I can't believe he got Spud to wear that," Dick said, shaking his 
head.

"I can't believe it doesn’t clash horribly with his hair."

Dinah and Dick looked at each other again.

"Should we wake them up?"  

They paused for a moment, affection for their loved ones and 
respect for the day settling over them.

"Nah."

***

Epilogue:

Dick lifted his pillow to pull his side of the comforter back and 
was surprised to see a blue envelope lying on the bed.  Frowning, he cast 
the pillow aside and sat on the bed to read examine the envelope by the 
lamplight.  It had one letter on it—a D.  

He glanced at the bathroom door where Babs was showering and 
looked back at the envelope.  The D wasn't her writing; it was clumsily 
etched with a black pen.  He turned the envelope over and wasn't surprised 
to find it unsealed.  He lifted the flap of the envelope and pulled out a 
greeting card.

The picture blurred under his scrutiny and the pre-printed words 
ran together.  But he saw the only word he needed, scrawled across the 
bottom.

	Spud.

***

The End