Early in the morning, Dick is fast asleep beside me. His hair is curtaining his eyes, his mouth is agape and he's snoring. It sounds unattractive, but this man somehow makes it looks peaceful and cute.

I unwrap his arms from around my waist- with great difficulty -and shuffle away from him. Judging by the darkness in the room it's barely early hours.

Something has woken me up. 

There isn't any twisting from Amethyst or Cyan, who are usually on high alert if danger is nearby. When I hear footsteps I quickly reach over and flick the bedside lamp on.

Blearily, through tired eyes, I make out a familiar child-like figure in the resulting dim standing at the end of the bed.

"Perich."

You have got to be kidding me.

"What the fuck, kid?" I whisper angrily, "I could have shot you! What time is it?"

Keeping the blanket up over my very naked self, I roll over to look at the alarm clock to see that it's only just gone on to four in the morning.

"There is something you need to know," he states simply, looking prim and fresh for so early in the morning.

Been on patrol, have we? 

"Right now?" I snap, glancing at Dick, who frowns in his sleep and turns slightly.

"Yes. Get up."

When he doesn't leave so I can do exactly that, I glare, even though he can't see it.

"Go into the living room. I'm not wearing anything." 

He makes some sort of disgruntled, disgusted sound before turning and hurrying out, closing the door quietly.

What would be so important he can't just text me? And why this early in the morning? And how long was he standing there before my instincts kicked in!?

"Little bastard," I mumble as I put my robe on, tying it blindly, but securely. I head into the bathroom quietly and slap some water on my face. Something tells me I want to be fully awake for this, seeing as I 'need' to know it.

I wonder if it's about that night with the car crash? That would explain why he couldn't just text me like a normal human. Then again, what has Damian done in my presence so far that seems normal?

"Okay you little psycho," I say quietly when I come out to the living room, "What the hell do you want?"

He's standing in the centre of the room with Cookie and Luscious circling him, but he doesn't look at them. It's strange considering his affinity for animals. He seems distracted and doesn't even react to my words.

"Grayson," he begins shortly, eyes darting to me, "Today is the anniversary of his parent's death."

I feel myself go cold. The anger at Damian fades.

"What?" I say dumbly, but he doesn't roll his eyes.

"Gordon informed me, though I was already aware. She also told me that he did not want you to know, as he would prefer you to treat him normally."

I'm not sure what to think of that. Do I get mad at Damian for telling me against Dick's wishes? Mad at Dick for not telling me? Or sad that he didn't tell me?

"Why...are you telling me then?" I respond slowly, glancing back at the bedroom door to make sure I shut it before I move closer to him and take a seat.

"In my endeavour to...overcome certain grievances, I have found that those around me being aware of the circumstances has...helped." 

Each word of such an emotional topic obviously scalds his throat, but he manages to make his point with that simple sentence. I can't say I agree. On days I had lost team members in the previous years I never said a word to my family. I can't stand the idea of pity, let alone having it placed on me under such circumstances.

"People grieve in different ways, Damian," I say after awhile. 

He frowns at me.

"I'm glad that your process involved others knowing, but for me and obviously for Dick, we prefer the privacy." It surprises me that he doesn't as well.

"I am not referring to pity, if that is what you mean," he bites sharply. "You may disagree, but I know Grayson better than you. On this day he tends to act completely different. I also know your tendencies and believe you'd interpret the shift in his personality as a personal offence."

Oh. So that's his motivation. Little asshole.

"During a particular day of the year I become very easily agitated."

"More than usual?" I snap, done with this conversation.

He glares at me, "I nearly killed Drake thrice, threw a bowl at Brown's head and destroyed father's latest invention. They called some drab therapist and attempted to search for some deep-seated issue for weeks. If I had merely told them what the day was to me we could have avoided issue."

First, I thought that kind of peril was part of their every day life? Second, what the hell kind of anniversary would make him do that? Third, why does this kid not go to therapy every day? Fourth, surely he has multiple deep-seated issues?

I could have said any of those things, but I don't.

"Why do you care if I interpret Dick's actions the wrong way?"

It's a simple question. Damian's eyes widen at it though, like he wasn't prepared to be asked that.

"If you can't answer that question yourself, I have no place in answering."

People probably like to think of Damian as an old soul. Wise like the tortoise on Kung Fu Panda, or Dumbledore. I think of him as a snide little brat who can't decide if he's nasty or just mean.

"You also have no place in going against your brother's wishes but here we are," I say, but he's already up and walking to the door. I can't believe he stopped by this early just for that. "Whatever you're trying to do, are you really helping it by refusing to answer my questions?" 

He stops right before he can disappear around the corner. 

"Is there something else? Or did you really just stop by for that?"

He doesn't turn around, but he sounds quite lighthearted for himself when he says, "You make Grayson very happy. Do you know that?"

Instead of waiting for a response he runs away like a little bitch.

"The fuck?" I whisper to the cats.

I'm not entirely sure which part to focus on.

If I go from the start- Damian really, really cares for Dick. I don't think he's lying, which means today I need to be distracting, without giving anything away. Or it could be the complete opposite and I need to give him space?

"Cleo?"

Dick appears at the bedroom door, hair tousled with our blanket around him. It's cute.

"Hey," I smile, panicking over whether or not he heard.

"Did I hear the elevator?" He asks, only one bleary eye open.

"You did," I think quickly, "It was just Mai. She's heading to Sunset ahead of us and came to give me my itinerary." It's the best I can do.

"Oh. Okay," too easy, "Are you coming back to bed?"

The question puts an idea in my mind immediately. He might be tired and it might be a cliché, but it would be the easiest way to cheer him up from the get-go.

"Well..." I start slowly. It's dark, I hope he can see me. "I'm already up so I'm going to have a shower."

Whether we end up talking about it or not, if he figures out that I know, or if he doesn't say anything at all- I can still make the day okay.

I start to untie my robe and his sleepy expression shifts to something very interested.

"Are you going to join me?"

◊

◊

Later, while he's getting dressed, I sit down at the table and open my laptop up. My stomach turns when the images of the recent village massacre in Relaysia appear. I forgot to close them the previous day.

I open the browser and search up 'Haly's circus trapeze death Gotham'. 

The first article that appears in the news section reads, "Haly's Circus Sabotage: Tony Zucco Convicted Of Couple's Murder." 

I click on it and skim read because I can hear Dick has come out of the wardrobe. The gist seems to be that Zucco demanded insurance payments from the circus and they, not knowing the ways of Gotham, refused. With help from Batman and his 'new, young partner' evidence of tampering was found within the structure of the trapeze. Jonathan and Mary Grayson leave behind a son who has recently been adopted by 'billionaire playboy Bruce Wayne'.

"It's still early but, wanna' go out for breakfast?"

The screen is already shut before he can see me. Luckily he isn't looking and instead heads towards the sofa, where he sits down to get his shoes on.

I put on a smile and nod, "Sure, where?"

"Somewhere outside of the city maybe?" He suggests. Immediately after he snaps his head around to me, "Unless you're busy today?"

I am. Since we're going to Sunset soon, I have to do some actual work to make up for the time away. There are still companies to be moved into Wayne Enterprises from Perich Inc, and some other plans I had for the background of things.

"I'm not," I say casually as I get up, "Out of town sounds great. Just let me just fix my face."

"You don't need to do that," he tells me, pouting over the sofa back.

"Don't throw a high school pick-up line at me."

He takes a moment before responding, "I'll have you know I charmed many a girl in high school."

"What?" I stop at the door and smirk over my shoulder at him, "With your Mathlete trophy?"

He gasps dramatically like I've truly offended his honour. I cackle as I walk into the bedroom where I remember that I'm supposed to be nice.

"Don't worry, I'm sure you charmed them all!" That'll do.

I get ready fast.

It sounds pretty appealing to me to waste the day away with him. We'll start with breakfast. I'll let him choose where, but complain about it so it doesn't look like he can have whatever he wants. But he can. 

Maybe after we could do something before lunch? I don't know what there is to see on the outskirts of Gotham. I don't even know what there is to see in Gotham. I know there's a dense wood to one side nearing the manor. I know there are abandoned warehouses Bruce is slowly buying up and then knocking down to create more affordable housing. 

Which reminds me of another thing I wanted to work on today.

I have been looking into ways to fix some of my father's charitable mistakes, such as knocking down the free health clinic. If I can put it back and maybe some other facilities it could reverse the issues his actions created.

I was also going to try to hack into the drone visions of the village that was destroyed, though there might not be much point. If they had anything then Heather's ARGUS informer would have reported it.

Which means the assailant knew how to destroy the drones or hack them themselves. 

I pull my brush away from my face at the thought of Grotesque. He makes me shudder in both fear and disgust like nothing else, but at least I can handle it.

Not like Eric. 

Grotesque's tech girl, codenamed Buzzard by ARGUS, is very well incapacitated. I know because Christa chopped both her arms off. Can't type with no hands.

Then again she could always have prosthetics.

It's all too much to think about today.

"I'm ready," I emerge from the bedroom five minutes later to see him sitting in the same spot, still staring outside.

It's a grey, overcast, sad looking day. My least favourite kind of weather. Thunder had rolled the last two nights which resulted in a pair of cats wedged between us. The other morning I woke up to Luscious licking his behind right next to my head.

I'm about to mention it, when I actually see his face.

It has turned solemn as he gazes out at the gloomy day. It must hurt when the weather reflects exactly how you feel and just what the day means to you. As I get closer I'm stunned by the presence of a single tear fallen from glassy eyes down his cheek. He looks lost. It immediately takes apart my composure and my smile drops, as does my bag.

It can just be the thought of the day, or the weather. Was it something I said?

"Dick?" I say quietly. 

He jumps when he sees me like he's been stabbed, quickly slapping away that tear so fast I'm sure he hurts himself.

"Hey-" I begin.

"Sorry," he shakes his head and jumps to his feet, grinning as wide as he can. I try to re-arrange my face to look neutral. "I was staring at this...bird on the apartment across the road. I must have forgotten to blink."

It's a pathetic excuse. He rubs his eyes with his fists.

"Shall we?" He laughs nervously and walks past me.

I reach my hand back and catch his wrist.

He stops, not even trying to pull away. We are both frozen. I can't see his face so I don't know if he's figuring out that I know or if he's crying again, but he sighs loudly.

"Damian."

Well that answers that.

I do not want to sound too pitiful because it's what he wanted to avoid. I don't want to sound too overjoyed in case I seem cold.

"He loves you very much. In his own way."

I manage to sound normal, void of anything really telling of how I feel. Before I can ask him if I can ask a question, he mutters under his breath.

"Why does it have to be a thing?"

Then I get it. It's not that he doesn't want pity and it's not that he wants to mark this day in his own way; he doesn't want this to be 'a day' at all.

"I don't understand why everyone just...expects me to celebrate it. Why is it a thing that I have to address every year? I didn't want to tell you because I wanted one person who wouldn't act weird around me all day."

This sounds like something that has been on his mind for years. He probably hasn't had anyone he can relay these feelings too in a while, if ever.

I turn around and grab his arm with both hands, guiding him to sit back down on the sofa. Still remaining as neutral as possible, I kneel down before him.

"Dick-"

"Their wedding anniversary is a month before ours," he says. I don't think he heard me say his name. Maybe he's letting himself talk like he hasn't in a while. "Why can't that be the day I remember them?"

"It is," I say, trying to remain calm. I keep a hold of his arm and muster up years of being the oldest sibling and a team leader. Hopefully this comes out wise. "You're right. Today shouldn't be a celebration. It's not a happy day."

He lets me speak, eyes set on me. I move one hand to take a hold of his. He returns the grip and looks back down.

"On days when sad things happened we don't have to be happy. We're not obliged to put on a smile or accept people's pity. When someone we love isn't here anymore, the day they die doesn't have to be when they're remembered. That should be birthdays, graduation dates, anniversaries."

The main point could have one of two reactions.

"We don't have to mourn anymore. We don't have to put on a show or a party or even a toast. But Dick...what I think we should do is acknowledge it." His eyebrows raise and he meets my eyes. "Jack died on the last day of February. On his birthday my team and I go out and get a drink and we toast to him and the others. On the last day of February, I wake up thinking of him. Our last moment comes to mind. Sometimes I would visit his grave. Other times I'd just think about him, only for a bit. Even talking about him for a minute to the team. It's enough. After that, I can get on with my day. If I didn't take the time to acknowledge what happened on that date years before, Jack's final moment alive becomes...forgotten."

Something like agreement and realisation blooms in his eyes. Perhaps it's understanding. His gaze drops back down to our hands and he rubs his thumb over the back of mine, clearly thinking about his take on my words.

"My parents were happy," he mumbles after a while. Then he laughs a little and my heart warms. He starts to talk a little bit more animated. "My mom had this way of smiling at me before a jump. It was like she was saying you can do it. And then I'd just...jump, and she was right. She was smiling at me like that when it happened."

Based off of who Dick is as a person and how much he loves his current family, I bet his parents were the same. When they realised they were going to die, I bet they were just happy Dick wasn't on the rope with them.

"My first time in front of a crowd, I forgot to bow. It was headlined as my debut act and I thought I'd ruined it all by not bowing. But they both told me that I'd...charmed the crowd." When he says that I realise that my own earlier words had triggered the tears. 

I don't say anything, but I do bring his hand up and kiss his knuckles- which are not so subtly bruised in places.

"They always had a way of making things better. So when it happened...I knew they would have wanted me to think on the bright side."

I wish I could say more, but anything on my mind will only hint at the part of his life I'm not supposed to know about.

Because of what happened you dedicate yourself to preventing anyone else from suffering every single day. 

Instead I pat his legs lightly, "You did it." He spoke about them. That's all he has to do.

He smiles at me. It reaches his eyes unlike the fake ones from earlier. His heavy sigh is complete and utter relief. I'm stuck in my own relief at the talk having gone well, so when he takes my face in his hands and kisses me, it catches me off guard.

It does not mean I don't kiss back, wanting him to feel that I'm proud of him without having to saying it.

"Cleo," he says softly, only pulling back the slightest, "Thank you."

What I want to say won't come out, so I just kiss him again. I think it does the job for me. 

When he draws away again, he's still smiling, but it shifts a little when he asks, "There's just one more thing. We can do it on the way to breakfast. Is that okay?"

Is that okay? I guess the message didn't get across as well as I thought.

With zero trepidation, "Anything."

◊

◊

It should look scary to be, but really it's just melancholy.

When the sky reflects the majority colour of the head stones in the First Hearth Memoriam Park, it's hard to remember that this is supposed to be a happy moment.

I push my hair out of my face with the hand not linked in Dick's arm.

"My family- That's, the Graysons, either didn't want me or couldn't take care of me. Old Jack offered but I knew the circus was struggling already. Especially after the incident. Bruce was in the crowd and well, he paid for them to be here."

The memorial park is on the far side of Gotham's Diamond District where the rich live. Many of the headstones look expensive so I'm not surprised it was paid for by Bruce.

"When was the last time you were here?" I ask. 

"Only a year ago. I used to come here more often but I was in Blüdhaven a lot, so..." he trails off. I don't press.

He suddenly kisses my head.

I snort, "What was that for?"

Our stroll starts to slow, "For being here."

He stops and turns to look at a shared stone to the right, lined with a gold which is also the colour of the writing.

Mary and Jonathan Grayson
Forever May They Fly 

"That's beautiful," I murmur, not really meaning to.

"Bruce said Alfred came up with it," Dick smiles fondly. He steps a bit closer. "Hi mom and dad." Tears snap to my eyes immediately just watching him. Normally I would feel stupid but in this moment it fits. "Sorry I haven't been to see you. I've been really busy."

He looks back at me and I anxiously squeeze the bouquet in my hands. His face softens at my tears, before he holds his hand out. I take it and he pulls me closer to them, not letting go.

"This is my wife, Cleo."

I feel like my heart could explode. It's already going a hundred miles a minute. He sets his eyes on me and I can't look away even if I want to when he speaks.

"She's a surfer, she's a marine, like me she's a terrible cook. You remember Damian? He really likes her, even if he doesn't say. That just shows how great she is, right?" He winks at me and I imagine that just makes the red in my face even worse. "She's a big sister to nine kids," he exasperates. I can't help but laugh. "We live in an apartment with two cats name Cookie and Luscious from this awesome show she introduced me to. Oh, and Cookie loves me."

I remain silent the whole time and just watch him talk, excitedly, to his parents. He mentions a few of our dates, our ugly wedding, how many somersaults he can do in one jump now, a new Japanese cereal he thoroughly enjoys, how the circus is doing and how Bruce and the rest are.

After about ten minutes, he finishes and just stands there, silent. I squeeze his hand and watch a flurry of emotions cross his face in that minute, before he turns and takes the bouquet from me.

He places it at the foot of the stone which he rests his hand on gently, whispering something. He straightens up, rolls his shoulders and takes a deep breath. It's refreshing and I can feel his sense of fulfilment from here.

"Let's go," he smiles, ceasing me by the hand again and heading out.

He only ends up pulling my arm though. I stand my ground, eyes set on their names which probably reflect sunlight on any other day.

"Cleo?"

I look at him, hoping that he doesn't mind, before my eyes move back to them

"Your son..." I begin. 

He probably hasn't brought anyone here. 

"Your son is unlike anyone I've ever met." He exhales loudly, like he can't believe it. "He's kind, he's funny...He feels everything in his heart and he's not ashamed of it." I look at him and his face is priceless. His eyes are wide and his mouth is open. "And I'm glad I married him."

I am. Even if this was a plan for the future by higher powers (Rip Hunter), I'm glad he's in my life. He's like a ray of sun, or the light at the end of the tunnel.

When I say that, he gives me a warm smile. I feel that blossoming in my chest, as I have felt all day and in the past few weeks as well. So I smile back.

As we head to the car back through the park, he's holding my hand, but it's a strangely loose hold. I sneak a glance at his face. He looks a lot more serious than I would have expected, given that he was so smiley a moment ago.

"So where are we going?" I ask to try and lighten him up.

Instead of answering he stops just before the gate. My hand slips from his and I turn to face him with the fear that I over-stepped back there, or that he's going to cry again.

Following a moment of thought, he looks up at me with renewed determined. It softens into the smallest smile. It isn't fake- it actually looks hopeful. 

"Stay with me."

I blink dumbly, not quite sure of what he means.

"After this," he gestures between us, "After our divorce and the end of the contract and the companies part...Will you stay with me?" Then, as if realising he hasn't said it, "Be my girlfriend?"

Whatever flutters I have felt up until now pale in comparison to the fireworks that go off inside me. I can't even bring myself to react like a normal human being and instead go completely petrified like a stunned statue.

The longer I stare at him, the more awkward it becomes and the more panic starts to rise.

Is this even real?

Knowing what I'm admitting, what I'm jumping into head first...I smile.

"You sure picked an odd place."

The comment washes over him and leaves him even more panicked before. That only makes me laugh and I move forward and pretty much glomp him.

"Of course I will, moron!"

"Really?" He muses, wrapping his arms around me and leaning back, effectively lifting me off the ground. We probably look like over-excited children. All I can do is laugh along with him as the truth burns bright inside of me.

I love him.

◊

◊

This chapter was really hard to write - Probably why it's 4400 words.

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