The nine-year-old settled himself with amazing ease on the building's edge. He perched there, a thoughtful frown pulling at his young face. His blue eyes though sparkled with excitement through the gloom of the Gotham night.

Bruce Wayne had never thought of himself as someone who could be a father or play anything close to that role. But watching the boy's face, the carefully structured and maintained barriers that kept the Batman from feeling any unnecessary emotion shattered. Bruce found himself biting his tongue so as not to tell the boy to come off the ledge. The kid was an acrobat and knew how to handle himself, but Bruce couldn't help but worry he would fall. His body tensed, prepared to leap into action and save the child if the unlikely need arose.

"The city is so pretty from here. You can't see any litter and the people all look tiny and cute," The child observed, looking over to smile at the man beside him. That smile, so innocent yet holding a silent pain, sealed it. Bruce's entire world shifted, priorities warping so that a new responsibly was hidden at their center.

Dick Grayson leaned a shoulder against the broad one beside him as he turned his attention back to the city. Bruce continued studying the child for a moment more, wondering how this boy had done what so many had tried too. He had broken through the billionaire and the vigilante to the human beneath the masks of Bruce Wayne. Finally settling his thoughts with a deep, but silent sigh, Bruce too turned his gaze to the city before them.

If anyone saw them, they would wonder at the man and boy sitting daringly at the edge of many stories, tempting gravity and fate. For it wasn't the Batman and Robin the boy wonder who sat shoulder to shoulder, or even Mr. Wayne and Richard, his "charity case" fosterson.

It was just Bruce and Dick, the Gotham night hiding them away from prying eyes like a good friend. They might not have been father and son in the 'normal' sense, but they were in every other way. And that's all that mattered.