Disclaimer: Most characters belong to DC Comics - those ones I borrowed 
without permission. James (Spud) Grayson belongs to Smitty; Bert Drake 
and the Gator belong to Kerrie. I asked to play with them.  Written for the 
amusement of friends, not for profit.

Deadline is Suck 
by Chicago

Batman's low growl came over the comlink. "They're on the move." 
 
James Grayson spun in his chair to face the grid of the Gotham-Bludhaven 
corridor. A little blue dot was indeed finally moving out of Gotham's 
Upper East Side, making it's way to the Aparo Expressway.  James cursed 
under his breath and opened another channel. 
 
"O2 to Batgirl." 
 
"Batgirl." 
 
"Batgirl, I need a huge favor. What's your location?" 
 
"On roof." 
 
"Which - never mind. Look, I gotta go help out there or they'll never 
finish. Can you signal me when the target gets to the bridge?" 
 
"Okay." 
 
James severed the connection and jumped out of his chair, careening from 
Oracle Central and into the living room. "Guys, they're on their way." 
 
Lian looked down from the step ladder. "What? I thought Batman was 
going to keep them -" 
 
"You wanna tell him he didn't do his job?" James answered, grabbing 
Bert's hand. "C'mon, Gatorhead, we gotta get you into your jammies." 
 
"I'm holdin' the ladder!" Bert protested, setting his feet and tightening his 
grip on the frame. 
 
James rolled his eyes and shot Lian a glance. "You almost done up there?" 
 
"Calm down, James. We'll make it. There." She climbed deftly down from 
the ladder, ruffling 10-year-old Bert's hair as she stepped onto the floor. 
"Good work, Bert." 
 
Bert beamed. 
 
"Come ON, Bert," James insisted, pulling the younger boy toward the 
bathroom. A kitchen timer went off. "ARGH!" James cried. 
 
"I'll get it, Spud," Lian reassured. "Go get Bert ready for bed." 
 
Bert jerked his hand from James grip. "I can get myself ready," he 
complained. "I'm not a baby anymore." 
 
"Fine," James grumbled. "Just do it. And don't spend three hours brushing 
Gator's teeth, either." 
 
"Son of Krypton has perfect teeth," Bert sniffed, digging his pajamas out 
of his overnight bag. 
 
James looked at his charge with some bewilderment, not really sure how 
to read Bert's comment. "Fine. He has perfect teeth. Just get ready." 
 
Bert disappeared down the hall, and James suddenly remembered the box 
in his closet. He was just about to go down the hall when Lian's voice 
called, "James, now what?" 
 
He spun on heel and dashed into the kitchen. Lian had pulled the cookies 
out of the oven and was arranging them on a plate. "Not that one!" James 
protested, diving down to rummage in a cupboard for an iridescent glass 
plate. "Put 'em on this." 
 
Lian shot him a look. "You're going to have an ulcer before you're 
sixteen," she remarked acidly. 
 
"No, that's Tim," James replied, missing the point. He began transferring 
cookies to the preferred plate, pausing to look around at the mess of 
dishes. "I better deal with the kitchen. Can you check on Bert for me? I 
promised he'd be in bed by nine." 
 
"It's 11:00," Lian pointed out unnecessarily. 
 
"Damn," James muttered, reaching for his ear. "Cass just signaled. They're 
on the bridge." He did some quick mental math. "At that rate, we've got 
maybe twenty minutes to get Bert into bed and you out of here." 
 
"Spud -" 
 
"Oh NOOOO!" The cry came from somewhere further back in the house. 
 
Lian and James looked at each other. "Bert!" 
 
James leapt to his feet and dashed in the direction of the Bert's howl.  Lian 
followed a step or two behind. 
 
It wasn't pretty. Bert Drake sat in the middle of the living room in 
wrinkled pajamas, his Gator sitting in his lap facing him. "His eye!" he 
choked in obvious distress. "He lost an eye!" The part of Bert that was 
desperately ready to be regarded as grown and deeply resented the fact 
that he still required a babysitter was warring with the little boy whose 
life's companion had just suffered a crippling loss.  The little boy was 
winning as tears began to run unchecked down Bert's face. 
 
"Oh, Bert!" James exclaimed, a note of sympathy in his voice. "Where 
was he? Did you see where it went?" 
 
"He was - I left him in my bag, 'cuz I didn't want to look like a baby, 
except when I pulled him out - " The tears began to fall harder. 
 
James was already digging in Bert's overnight bag with one hand, his other 
hand reaching for the phone. "Do you think it's still in here?" he asked as 
he hit "1" on the speed dial. 
 
"I don't KNOW!" Bert sobbed, hugging his injured Gator and stroking its 
head as if to offer - or receive - comfort. 
 
A reliable two rings sounded in James ear as he continued to grope for the 
lost eye, then Alfred's voice answered, "Wayne Manor." 
 
"Dinah, please," James said, glancing up at Lian. 
 
Lian knelt down and took over the search of Bert's bag, while James put a 
hand on Bert's shoulder and murmured. "It's okay. We'll fix -" 
 
Just as Dinah came on the line, an inconsolable wail escaped Bert. 
 
"Hi, Dinah." James managed to sound calm. 
 
"Need a save, Tater Tot?" came the amused reply. 
 
"Do I ever." 
 
"You got it. Bye." 
 
James hung up and threw the phone at the couch, turning his full attention 
to Bert. "Let me see him, Bert," he coaxed. 
 
Bert hugged the Son of Krypton closer to him for a minute, then 
reluctantly released him to the older boy. James inspected the grinning 
face with the two stray threads that marked the place where an eye had 
once been. "Any luck?" he asked Lian. 
 
Lian shook her head as she repacked all the items she'd removed from 
Bert's bag. 
 
"He's going to be blind!" Bert sniffed. "I let him down. I knew his eye was 
loose. I shoulda been more careful. I just -" 
 
"Bert." James made his voice mimic the tone that Babs took with him 
when she wanted his attention. 
 
Bert calmed. 
 
"Lian, can you go *downstairs* and get the surgery kit?" James asked 
seriously. 
 
Bert's eyes widened as he looked up at James in awe. He knew what 
*downstairs* meant, even though he knew he technically wasn't supposed 
to. Just like he knew what James and Lian and Tim and everyone (except 
his mom and dad and Bruce Wayne and everyone from school) did when 
they went out. His face took on a braver look. The Son of Krypton was in 
the hands of heroes. 
 
"Bert," James instructed. "I need you to hold Son of Krypton and reassure 
him. And come with me." 
 
Wide-eyed, Bert took James' hand and started to follow him to *the 
room*. They took two steps before the phone rang. 
 
James stopped. "Oh no. Where did I throw it?" he muttered. 
 
It rang again and James located it. He gave Bert's hand a little squeeze. 
"Hold tight, Dark Knight," he ordered. 
 
He answered the phone in a sleepy voice. "Grayson residence." 
 
"Hi, Sweetie. Were you asleep already?" 
 
"Hey, Mom. Nah, I was just reading. You guys having fun?" 
 
A warm chuckle came over the line. "I don't think we jumped off enough 
buildings for your father's taste, but yeah, we're having fun." James smiled 
at Dick's "HEY!" in the background. "We were just calling to let you 
know we're going to be a bit later than we expected." 
 
"Later?" James tone conveyed surprise. 
 
"Dinah just called us as we were heading out of Gotham, wants us to come 
over there for a bit. Everything okay at home? We can ditch her if you 
want." 
 
James laughed. "And deal with Dinah afterwards? I don't think so. 
Everything's cool here." 
 
"Homework done?" 
 
"Hey, don't I always finish my homework?" 
 
"That's an evasion, Dick Jr.," Babs teased. 
 
"Go see Dinah. Say hi to the twins if they're awake. And Dinah and 
Alfred, too." 
 
"Of course. We're just going to poke in, though, to say hi. We'll be home 
in about forty-five minutes." 
 
James eyes met Lian's as she re-entered the room with a questioning look. 
"Forty-five minutes. Got it. I'll probably be asleep by then anyway." 
 
In instant understanding, Lian handed James the sewing kit she had 
fetched and disappeared back into the kitchen. 
 
Babs chuckled again. "Yeah, like I believe that. But just in case, good 
night, Potato boy." 
 
He heard her shift to hold the phone toward Dick, who shouted, "G'night, 
Spud!" from some distance from the phone. He would never take the 
phone while he was driving, so Spud yelled, "G'night, Dad!" back. Then 
Babs voice was back in his ear. "Sleep tight, James." 
 
"Get home safe, Mom," he replied. "See you in the morning." 
 
"Yep. Bye." 
 
James clicked the phone off. Bert was staring expectantly at the sewing kit 
in his hands. "Is that for the surjey?" 
 
"The surgery, yes," James corrected mildly. "Now let's get back to what 
we were doing." 
 
Again he grasped Bert's hand, leading him into Oracle Central. It was a 
definite breech of the prevailing fiction that Bert didn't know about the 
Batworld which surrounded him, but desperate times called for desperate 
measures. 
 
James sat Bert down in a spare chair that Dick sometimes used and took 
up his own spot at the Oracle console. "Stay there and stay quiet," he 
directed. 
 
Bert nodded mutely, his eyes wide. 
 
James opened a channel. "O2 to Batman." 
 
The monitor fuzzed and suddenly a visual image of Batman seated in the 
Watchtower filled the screen. "Go ahead, O2," Batman replied in his usual 
gruff tones. Tim was getting good, James reflected - he was almost 
indistinguishable from Bruce's growl earlier that night from Gotham. 
 
"We have a small emergency here involving the Son of Krypton," James 
reported succinctly. 
 
Batman's - Tim's - face betrayed no emotion. "The nature of the 
emergency?" 
 
"Partial blindness brought on by eye loss. The missing optic seems to have 
completely disappeared." 
 
Batman frowned thoughtfully. "The Son of Krypton is green, yes?" 
 
A little choked sound of surprise sounded from where Bert sat. 
 
"Affirmative, Batman." 
 
"It is possible he possesses some regenerative powers. Hold on a moment, 
O2." 
 
"Of course." 
 
James put his signal on mute and turned to Bert. "Can he see me?" the boy 
asked. 
 
"No. We send out a masked signal to the Watchtower." 
 
"Then how did he -" 
 
"Batman knows everything," James intoned, turning back to the monitor 
before a smile could betray him. "Besides, he's met Gator before." 
 
James could feel Bert's eyes staring at him in absolute confoundedness. 
"How did you know that?" 
 
"I have my sources," James answered cryptically as a beep signaled 
Batman's return to the line. "Now, shush." 
 
"Go ahead, Batman." 
 
Batman again filled the screen, but he had someone with him. "O2, I have 
a resident expert on tissue regeneration." 
 
Batman stepped aside and Martian Manhunter slid into his spot. "O2, what 
is your situation?" 
 
"I have a faithful sidekick here with the complete loss of his right eye." 
 
J'onn's face grew somber. "This is a serious situation. Is the patient able to 
be brought to the screen? I might be able to advise if I could see him." 
 
"One moment, Martian Manhunter," James replied. He reached back to 
Bert, who wordlessly handed over the Gator. James flipped on a small 
camera and held up the stuffed toy. 
 
J'onn looked concerned and studious. "Hmm. The damage is not 
irreparable, although I fear that the replacement will seem a bit - 
artificial." 
 
"Of course. An injury of this severity - one couldn't expect to duplicate the 
original perfectly. Perhaps if you could explain the qualities of the new 
part so I can inform the Son of Krypton's partner?" 
 
"Naturally. The replacement eye is of the most sophisticated Martian 
technology. It will offer the Son of Krypton high quality night vision, as 
well as an unerring sense of his partner's whereabouts and safety." 
 
"Very well. Can you send that down directly then? I've sent coordinates." 
 
J'onn nodded and left his place in front of the monitor, leaving Batman 
once again at center screen. "Is your crisis resolved, then, O2?" 
 
"Affirmative." 
 
"And your other plans?" 
 
Had Bert not been in the room, James might have cried. He glanced at the 
clock. He'd lost 15 minutes of his remaining 45. The blue dot was at least 
still anchored at the Manor on the grid of the area. He knew his pause 
spoke volumes before he said, "Canary is providing a distraction." 
 
Batman nodded once. "Your requested optic should be coming through 
now. Good luck." 
 
The screen winked out, and a black button materialized on the ledge just 
beneath the projection monitor. James scooped up the button and the 
sewing kit and cradled the Son of Krypton. "Okay, Bert, let's get this 
surgery underway." 
 
************************************************* 
 
 
It took Lian all of ten minutes to tidy the kitchen. She knew James saw it 
as in a shambles, but she chalked that up to panic. Heck, *she* 
remembered about Uncle Dick's housekeeping habits before he'd married 
Auntie Babs. She finished drying and putting away the last of the three 
mixing bowls, then turned her attention to setting up the living room. 
 
She first put away the short step-ladder, returning it to its place in the hall 
closet. From that same closet she retrieved the linen table cloth she knew 
James wanted spread over the sideboard under the banner she had strung 
earlier. Spud was *so* going to owe her - but she couldn't help feeling a 
hint of admiration for the boy who had dropped all his careful plans for the 
sake of a damaged toy. And for a boy who could create such a magnificent 
torte. 
 
The iridescent plate, she discovered, fit perfectly on the bottom of the two 
tier cake rack on which the torte rested. Figures Spud would be in the 
"right tool for the right job" mode - she would have to tease him about his 
battishness. Still, once she had the rack set up, she moved it with great 
care into the living room - perhaps more care than was strictly necessary. 
It sat neatly on the table cloth on the sideboard, and Lian shifted it to the 
perfect center. She was just arranging the preselected candles ("Don't light 
them since we'll be leaving them unattended," James had cautioned) when 
James and Bert emerged from the workroom through the den. 
 
"All fixed?" she asked. 
 
Bert held his stuffed gator tightly, his face caught in an expression of 
extreme awe. Lian noticed a bandage tied around the toy's head. 
 
"We had to call in the JLA, but I think the operation was a success.  Mom 
and Dad are on their way." 
 
It took Lian a second to realize that those were two different thoughts. 
"Oh! Drat, I should get outta here. Dad's gonna be mad anyway and -" 
 
"I know. I'm sorry I was so awful earlier," James apologized. "Thank you 
so much." 
 
Lian smiled. "Oh, you'll make it up, Potatoboy. Talk to you tomorrow." 
 
"Okay. C'mon, Bert. Bedtime." 
 
Lian stuck around long enough to watch James lead Bert off to bed, then 
slipped out the back and walked down the block to where she'd left the 
car. 
 
***************************************** 
 
 
James carefully checked all the locks and turned off all the lights, finally 
slipping beneath the covers of his own bed with only minutes to spare. He 
closed his eyes for a moment, then sat bolt upright. The box! He'd 
forgotten the box! 
 
It sat in his closet, still unwrapped, but there was no help for it.  They'd be 
home any minute. 
 
He jumped up and grabbed the present, slipping on cat feet down the hall 
past the darkened guest bedroom where Bert and the Son of Krypton had 
already drifted off. As he entered the living room, he heard the sound of 
tires in the driveway. 
 
*Don't panic,* he told himself, forcing himself to move carefully as he 
heard his parents' voices. He set the box down in its spot by the midnight 
snack he'd prepared and darted back down the hall, diving back under the 
covers just as the locks on the front door began clicking open. He lay there 
with his heart pounding, trying to listen above its noise. 
 
Slowly, calm returned, and he could hear Babs' soft laugh and Dick's quiet 
tones as they moved through the house. A brightening of the hallway 
signaled that they had reached the living room, and it was quickly 
followed by twin gasps of surprise. 
 
James Grayson, snug in his bed, smiled contentedly and glanced at the 
clock. Not quite midnight. He'd made it. Maybe not elegantly. Maybe not 
perfect. But he'd done it. 
 
From the living room, he heard Dick read aloud the banner on the wall: 
"Happy 10th anniversary, Mom and Dad." 
 
"He's a good kid," Babs murmured. 
 
As adrenaline gave way to weariness and he felt sleep overtake him, Spud 
heard his father agree. "Yes, he is." 
 
-end-