Kindred Spirits by Anonymous *** He almost overslept this morning. He forgot to set his alarm, I suppose, because it didn't go off at 7:30 like it's supposed to. So at 7:38, I nudged his shoulder a bit. He blinked and looked at his clock and jumped out of bed, yelping "Babs is gonna kill me!" Fortunately, his trains have all been kicked under the bed, and he doesn't trip on any of them. He pulls on a pair of jeans that don't look *too* dirty and his favorite Gotham Knights Jersey, and scoots on downstairs to breakfast. I followed him, and watched him as he tossed entirely too much cereal into a bowl, and sloshed some milk on top. He managed to get more orange juice on the counter than in his glass, but I let him. Barbara could stand to have her kitchen destroyed a few times. Builds character. Grayson came downstairs, straightening his tie. I guess he had early shift. I remember taking the early shift... but then again, that was a long time ago. He mirrored Spud's breakfast routine, right down to the overabundance of cereal and OJ mess. Barbara's gonna have a lot of character in a few years. They both shoveled they cereal and then dashed out the door. Then dashed back in to retrieve briefcase and backpack respectively. Thank God Barbara packs their lunch at nights, or the two of them would starve. "Seatbelt," Grayson reminded him when they get in the car. Spud started to protest, but I gave him a poke. "Dick just wants you to be safe, " I reminded him. "Besides, it's the law, and if you don't do it, he'd have to arrest you." He giggles a little, and buckles up his belt. Second disaster of the day averted. Hmm, slow morning... *** School started out smoothly enough. He hung his coat on the coat rack, and put his lunch in his desk and joked with his friends. I reminded him to sharpen his pencil, but he didn't listen and promptly forgot. You win some, you lose some... There was a spelling bee today. Spud got his first two words, but the third one-- spaghetti-- stumped him. "S... P...A... G..." "H," I told him. He screwed up his face, obviously not believing him. "E," he decided, finally. "I'm sorry, Spud," Ms. Jones replied. "There's an H in there, too." "Nuts, I thought there was," he frowned, wrinkling up his nose. But he sat down without a complaint. I think he's learned by now not to cross Ms. Jones. "Heh, heh, Spud can't spell 'spaghetti'!" that ugly fat kid sitting behind Spud teased. I hate that kid. "So? You got out on 'apple,'" Spud shrugged. "At least mine had a trick in it." "Good job," I told him. "No need to get mad." The fat kid just sat back and fumed. Some little girl across the room got out on "automobile." Boy, I miss second grade sometimes. *** "Didja see Superman yesterday, Spud?" Potsy asked him on the way out to recess. Yeah, I know the kid's name isn't really Potsy, but I'm old, okay? I can't remember all their stupid names. And he looks like a Potsy. "Nah," Spud replied. "Dinah came over and we played catch. She's pregnant and gets bored a lot." I only ever met Dinah Lance... Wayne, whatever she's calling herself, a few times. Very bright and funny lady. Barbara's lucky to have a good friend like her. They're all lucky, although how Bruce managed to snag her, I'll never know. "I like Superman best," Potsy blabbed on. "I wish I lived in Metropolis, so we could have a cool superhero!" "I usedta live in Keystone City and once I seed the Flash!" the little girl without the two front teeth informed them. "He was really neato and made red blurries! The 'partment building near ours caught fire and he helped the kids get out." "Blüdhaven has Nightwing," the little Hispanic kid whose clothes never fit right added. "He's a hero." "I think he's make-believe," Potsy replied, not in the tone of a know-it-all kid, but more along the lines of someone who had recently had a talk about What Was Real and What Was Make-Believe. "No, he's not," Spud said quietly. "I seen him." "You did?" No-Front-Teeth asked, whistling a little. "Was he big and scary? My sister Francine says he's big and scary like Batman and eats little girls." "I didn't see him too good," Spud defended, staring at his sneakers. He didn't like the sudden attention, I realized. "But he just looked like a guy in pajamas to me." "Spud's a liar," Fatty announced. Damn, I hate that kid. "Am not," Spud replied, anger beginning to boil. I didn't like the sound of this. "A big... fat... Liar Liar Liar!" Spud started to step forward, when I put my hand on his shoulder. "You're bigger than this, James," I told him. "What would Babs do if someone made fun of Dick?" His face wrinkled... he was thinking hard. "What would Babs and Dick say if they found out you got in another fight? I bet Dinah wouldn't come over to play with you anymore." I hate saying things like that, but sometimes they work. "I don't care if you believe me or not. I saw him," Spud affirmed. "I'm gonna go climb the jungle gym." The other kids go swing, while Spud hung upside down by his knees from the jungle gym. He spends a lot of recesses upside down. But about five minutes before recess was over, the kid with no teeth walked over and stared at him. The bell rung. Spud didn't move. "Y'know what?" she said. "When the Flash wasn't makin' red blurries... he just looked like a guy in his pajamas, too." Spud swung down from the jungle gym. "You like pudding?" "I LOVE pudding! It *squishes* between my teeth." "Whatcha got for dessert? I'll trade if it's good..." "Carrot cake." "Hmm... that'll do." *** We made it through the rest of school in one piece. I didn't even help him on the math test, even though I really wanted to. He needs to do some things on his own. *** Babs picked him up from school. "Where are we going?" "To pick up Dick." "How come?" "Well, Bruce called..." "Is everything okay?" Sigh. Spud was so incurably paranoid. "Yep. In fact, they're having a barbecue, and we've been invited." "A barbecue?" "Yup. Dinah said she wanted to have a party before it started getting chilly. Tim can help you with your homework, and when you're done, I packed Dusty and Buckshot for you." "Wow, thanks, Babs!" He looked pensive for a minute. "Is Lian and her dad coming?" Barbara ignored the sarcastic tone. She's such a good mother. "No, they had plans for tonight. But Tim and Cassandra will be there, and Dr. Leslie, too." "She ain't gonna give me any shots, is she?" "Not unless I ask her to." "Babs!" "Spud!" I chuckled. Like mother, like son. *** Everyone seems lighthearted at the barbecue. It's strange... I knew about Bruce and Dick years ago, but I never could really imagine what is was like in their life. Were they Dick and Bruce most of the time and Batman and Robin at night? Or the other way around. Or were both the same? Now that I know, I can't explain it, but it's nice to finally be on the inside. Tim Drake helps Spud out with his subtraction. Drake's a good kid. I remember thinking it strange when he got stuck in Gotham after the quake, but when I found out later, it all made sense. He spends a lot of time with Cassandra Cain, but he brought a kid with him, too. I don't think it's his-- he doesn't handle it like a father would. More like a brother or an uncle or something. Cassandra seems to be wrangling the toddler for now. Bruce sat on the picnic table, watching bemusedly as Dinah set some steaks on fire. Alfred wandered back and forth between the kitchen, carrying bowls of stuff you *never* would have seen at one of my barbecues. Every so often, he'd plead with "Mistress Dinah" to "please be careful... for the sake of the children." I get the feeling the old guy's been fighting the same losing crusade for years now. With Bruce, with Dick, and now he's got a whole new battleground. Dr. Leslie helped him out, a bit, mostly with the food. She knows better than to mess with Dinah. Dick teased Cassandra while Barbara cooed over the little one. I watched Spud do his homework, and listen to Tim. The guy sure knows his subtraction. Finally, he let Spud go, and the little monkey raced over to the picnic table where his parents were sitting. He tried to wheedle his toys out of Barbara, while she held him off with as many "Weeeellllls..." and "Maaaaaaybes..." Meanwhile, I couldn't help but notice the way Cassandra seemed to be staring at me. Not through me. Not at something on the other side of me. At *me.* She seemed like she couldn't decide what to make of me. "Here you go," Barbara finally said, presenting Spud with his two best friends, where he promptly ran off under the shade of one of the huge oaks in the Wayne's back yard. I couldn't help but lingering for a moment. There was something about the little squirt that seemed somehow... familar. Cassandra looked down at him. "You want go play with Spud, Bert?" Bert contemplated this for a moment, and seemed to have some sort of conversation with the ragged stuffed animal in his lap. Some sort of lizard or something. Then, he hopped off Cassandra's lap, and toddled off towards his new playmate. "Are you sure that's a good idea? Letting them play by themselves?" Barbara asked. I love her dearly, but she's as big a worrier as Spud is. "They got plenty supervision," Cassandra replied. But by this time, I'm more interested in the hazy cloud of smoke that seems to be following Bert. It slowly coalesced into the shape of a woman... maybe about Dinah's age. She watched fondly as Bert plopped down in the grass next to Spud's makeshift train robbery, and interjected his ugly green thing into the scene. Spud doesn't look amused. "They're wonderful, aren't they?" she said quietly, gazing down at them. "Sometimes I think they're the angels and not us." "Every day," I agree. "Grandfather?" she asked. "I wish I could be. I'm Barbara's father, Jim Gordon." "You don't have to be related to love them," she replies, brushing a few ghostly fingers through Bert's dark hair. "I'm Janet Drake, Tim's mother." "So Bert's your..." "Jack remarried. Bert's not mine. But... Tim hasn't needed me for a long time. This little one... for one thing, he thinks he's Batman... and that the Gator is Superman..." "I've had days like that," I chuckled. I guess we got so excited at seeing someone else, that we stopped paying attention to the kids. Because in a move that would have made Bruce whip out a new red suit on the spot, Spud snatched the.... whatever it was out of Bert's hands, and hurled it across the yard. With a gasp of betrayal, Bert was after it, running as fast as his chubby little legs could carry him. I cringed. "I'm sorry, Jan... I should've been watching for that." "Oh, don't apologize," she dismissed. "Because then I'd have to apologize back... and so on and so forth." "Apologize? For what?" And at that moment, Bert, having returned from his search-and- rescue, took both Gator's back legs in his hands, and swung him like a fluffy green baseball bat... right in to the back of Spud's head. I couldn't help it. I near abouts busted a gut laughing, and so did Jan. Even with Tim and Dick dashing over like the worried parents they were and Spud sputtering indignantly, and Bert smiling triumphantly... we just laughed. Because sometimes, you have to let them do things on their own. *** The End