Soaring Free

A Young Justice Fanfiction

Hi guys! So, "Come Fly with Me" has become one of my most popular stories ever, and it seemed like a lot of people wanted a sequel...

I'm not dreaming, right?

Anyway... here it is. Unless otherwise noted, this story is from Dick's point of view. Hope you like it.

You don't have to read CFWM to read this, but I would recommend it, just to get to know the characters' history better.

Disclaimer: I do not own Young Justice.

Falling... falling... falling...

I see their bodies...

Mom. Dad. Bruce. Jason. Tim. Barbara...

Everyone I know, falling faster and faster until, the last body...

With a gasp, I sit up, feeling the sweat rolling down my spine. I try to shake the fear from my mind and body, forget that last image in the terrifying nightmare. I drag my hands down my face. I force myself to realize that it was just a dream.

A grunt from the warm figure previously curled into my side instantly eases my anxiety. Gently, I reach over and pull the small boy into my lap, burying my face in his soft ebony hair.

My son. My absolutely beautiful son.

He stirs slightly from his sleep. His adorably cracking voice whispers through the darkness. "Dad?"

The final fears from my dream flee. Pressing a kiss to the crown of his head, I say, "It's okay, Dami. Go back to sleep."

It's a testament to how tired he is, that he falls back asleep without complaint. My little Damian.

Damian Grayson. I adore the way it sounds, the way my son proudly wears my family name.

Richard "Dick" John Grayson and his son, Damian. I don't think that the sound of it will ever stop making me smile.

The thought of how close I had come to losing him... my grip around my son tightens inadvertently.

My mind flashes back to the events of the previous months.

"Tt. I could've swung down myself, you know."

"I know. You can't fault me for wanting to hold my baby boy, though."

I grin as I remember his disgruntled look. The smile fades as I remember what followed the happy memory.

"Stay put. Under no circumstances are you to get in the range of fire for that...man."

We had been tracking down a man who was trying to complete some sort of time ray. Just as we finally managed to track him, he had completed the gun. I had taken one glance at what the ray could do and knew instantly that there was no possible way that I would allow my son to risk being hit with it.

The fight had actually been going pretty well, for once. I had taunted the criminal enough to make him him frustrated and had gotten close enough for hand-to-hand combat.

"I've seen kids shoot better with Red Rider BB guns!"

"Did a blind cow teach you how to aim?"

I was about to disarm the man when Damian poked his head around the corner. Time seemed to slow, and fear like I had never known overcame me as the felon pointed his ray at my son and without thinking, I leapt in front of the barrel.

I shudder as I remember the unbearable pain. I had passed out not long after the ray began to take effect, and, next thing I knew, I was in the Batcave. Of course, being the excellent the father that I am, my first thought was of my son.

"Damian! Where's Damian?"

It took a second for me to realize what was wrong with me. My body was smaller, my voice higher pitched, my muscles weaker. Thankfully, my mind was fine. I was just physically thirteen.

The next few months, I was consumed with regaining my physical prowess. I felt the need to get out in the field, but... Nightwing is not 13. In order to go out, I needed a different alias...

"It would be more efficient for Father to take on the role of Robin. His experience and intelligence would prove extremely useful in a case such as this. There really is no reason that he shouldn't be Robin."

I had felt an overflow of love at that moment. Dami was offering to give up his title, for me.

"Bruce, tomorrow night, Robin will accompany Batman. Tonight, however, is reserved for father-son bonding."

I breath deeply as I remember the glorious feeling of soaring through the air between skyscrapers, of seeing a mother smile as she was reunited with her daughter. There is something that feels inherently good about helping others.

And then the Team happened. It was great; to be able to save the world, work with the Justice League (without the mountains of paperwork you had to do when you are a full fledged leaguer) and to just hang out... Before I knew it, I was acting my physical age, rather than my emotional and chronological one.

And, even worse, I began neglecting my own son.

Any remnants of a smile fade away as I remember the day that I came home from the mountain to find Damian beating away ruthlessly on a training dummy.

"What's wrong?! WHAT'S WRONG! You're asking me what's wrong? Why don't you just ask your precious team what's wrong, since that's all you seem to care about!"

I shudder as I recall his words.

"I just want to have my dad back. I know I'm not a normal kid. My personality is a bit intense, and I know that you probably get annoyed by me a lot, and I understand that you probably have more fun with other people and that you like to let loose in a way that you can't around me, but-"

My heart had broken. I felt like the worst father ever, having turned my child into a pariah.

But we talked. Heaven forbid it, we actually talked. And things started to get better.

Christmas was absolutely amazing. Damian... his gift was absolutely amazing.

"Um, Dad? Does this mean that you like it?"

"I love it, Damian. Just like I love you."

Then New Years came, with it a Justice League crisis, and then we finally caught the man who changed me, and then...

"It's me, Dami... Kiddo, even if I could change what had happened, I wouldn't. You know why? Because it brought us closer. Sure, it was weird and odd and uncomfortable at times, but our relationship is better than ever, and I wouldn't change that for the world."

And now, here I am. Back to my 26 year old self. Here I am, clutching my son to my chest mere hours after catching the bad guy.

Any thought of the reaction of the team passes from my mind as I drift off to much needed sleep with a little smile on my face.

In the morning, I wake up to find myself spread eagle on the bed, covers thrown to the side, with Damian curled into a ball on my chest. As I watch the cat-like boy rise and fall with my breathing, I can't help but chuckle. Little D is just adorable.

He lazily opens an eye and glares at me before readjusting his position. My left hand reaches up to come through his hair and my right goes to trace light patterns on his back. Just as I am about to fall back asleep, my JLA communicator starts to beep.

Groaning, I gradually shift the both of us closer to the side of the bed; Damian completely refuses to move off of me. Eventually, I'm close enough to the bedside table to pick up the communicator and shove it in my ear.

"'Ello?" I grudgingly answer.

"Nightwing."

I sit straight up in bed, ignoring Dami's angry muttering as he rolls off of me.

"Kaldur! What's up, dude?"

For a while, there is a silence on the other end of the line, and I wonder what is going through Kaldur's mind. Then: "We-the team-would like an explanation."

My eyebrow shoot up. For Aqualad, his tone is very passive aggressive. I swallow, suddenly nervous. Yeah..the little fact that I ran out on the team last night after...everything.

Without saying anything.

"Yeah, about that..." I wince, but I can't help but smile as Dami glares at the comm before huddling up in the covers on my legs. "Umm... I'm actually Nightwing? The original Robin? But I was de-aged?"

I can practically feel Kaldur's leveling, cool look. "Report to the cave in 20 minutes."

Despite the fact that he now knows I'm older than him, Kaldur manages to keep his voice expectant and commanding. I feel strangely proud of him for that fact.

Groaning, I yank my knees out from under Damian, ignoring his cry of protest, and start to get dressed in civies. It feels good to be in my own clothers; thirteen year old me had an odd sense of style.

I pull on a pair of jeans and a light blue button down shirt. Rolling my sleeves up to my elbows (come on, I know girls love it) I rummage around the floor with my feet to find acceptable shows. Finally, I find some worn, white Converse. All the while, Dami has been glaring at me from his blanket fortress. "Father," he calls out imperiously. "Where are you going?"

I'm not Damian's father for nothing. I can hear the underlying tone of worry in his voice. Where are you going? I just got you back.

Pausing in putting on my dark sunglasses, I ruffle his hair, grinning as his slightly indignant huff. "Emergency at Mount Justice, Lil D. Gotta go. Don't worry, I'll come straight back."

He folds his arms across his chest. "Of course you will, because I'm coming with you."

I raise an eyebrow. "Really? And why is that?"

"-tt- To remind them of who you really belong to, obviously."

I chuckle and, bending down, kiss the top of his head. "I think I'll be fine, Damain."

He only stares at me, then rolls out of bed and begins getting dressed. I roll my eyes good-naturedly. I know that he would stay put if I truly wanted him to, but if I'm being honest, I want him to come. I want to spend time with him, I want to try to make him laugh and make him smile, or, heaven forbid it, giggle.

Damian knows it, too.

As he finishes getting ready, a mischievous thought pops into my mind. As soon as his glasses are placed on his nose, I grab him and swing himself around so that he is on my back. He yells in surprise, instinctively tightening his legs around my waist, and I cackle. Before he has time to truly process what just happened, I'm sprinting out the door toward the kitchen.

We pass a confused Alfred on the way, who has time only to call out a "Master Dick!" before we are past him. I only slow when we reach the kitchen, pausing to pass a banana up to Damian and keep an apple for myself. Damian's unintelligible grumbles are like music to my ears, but he doesn't try to get out of my grip.

He can deny it all he wants, but I know that Damian is a cuddle monster.

With Dami still on my back, annoyingly (and intentionally) chewing his banana in my ear, I make my way to the Batcave.

Just because Damian is my son and we love each other doesn't mean that we don't ever purposefully irritate one another.

We toss my apple core and Damian's peel in the trash before we go to stand before the zeta tube. I smile softly as I feel Dami slip his hand into mine.

"Ready, kiddo?"

He scowls, but tightens his grip on my hand. "Of course, Father."

I smile and quickly key in the end destination. We walk into the zeta tube and faintly hear the computer call out our designations.

My smile falters, however, as we are met with the glares of seven angry teenagers.