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• Video marketing
• Video monetization
• DOUBLE FEATURE: CHILDREN OF THE NIGHT / MAYBE I'LL COME HOME IN THE SPRING (DVD)
• And Maybe, just Maybe, I’ll come Home
• DEMO VIDEOS
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Being around Jason was a reminder he didn’t need or want. All this about “home” has the echos bouncing around in my mind. I currently live in an inherited house, the one my parents retired to in 1980 and lived until my mom died in 2003 and my dad in 2013. Its not bad and the town i OK, but its too big.

More went out than went into the new house. Then I bought more shit and I have a blank space on two walls just waiting for the perfect things, I haven’t found them yet. Peter has heard plenty about the Batman that haunts Gotham at night, though he’s never seen him.

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Cold air stings his cheeks, but he barely feels it. He’ll never grow tired of this view. The night full of magic and wonder. Few people will ever experience it, yet somehow he’s one of them.

One who would no doubt spruce up the place as an excuse to raise rent. Sure, enough in the following days, the place was crawling with maintenance workers. Peter almost wept when he went to take a shower and hot steamy water came out. Seeing his dead brother’s face isn’t that unusual for Dick Grayson. Especially today, of all days, he knows it’s only a matter of time before Jason Todd haunts him once again. Expecting it doesn’t lessen the pain.

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Lower rent is good enough for him. He couldn’t care less about the empty promises of the wealthy. It’s going to take a hell of a lot more than a fresh coat of paint for frikin Crime Alley to be suitable for living. As more improvements are made in the building, Peter can practically see the dollar signs.

“I won three fights,” Peter replies flatly. Though to be fair, for the first time he’d also lost two. Neither a complete knockout, but it’s embarrassing, nonetheless. He’s now sporting a black eye, and while not entirely abnormal in Gotham, it’s bound to lead to questions. To make matters worse he’d been really counting on that money.

DOUBLE FEATURE: CHILDREN OF THE NIGHT / MAYBE I'LL COME HOME IN THE SPRING (DVD)

Maybe by next summer I’ll have it ready to go on the market. Hopefully, it will sell before I’m ready for assisted living, but I have no idea where I will look for that elusive Home then. Everywhere I’ve lived as an adult has felt temporary and life has put “proved” to that. Maybe for some of us Home is not a physical place.

Jason never once crossed his mind. Beyond gifting Jason with his former name and costume, Dick had no burning desire to step into the role of big brother. No desire to be around the manor and Bruce. He was too busy creating a life for himself outside the role of Robin.

And Maybe, just Maybe, I’ll come Home

On several occasions Dick had found Tim in front of Jason’s costume in the cave. Talking softly to the hero he missed.

By the time he makes it back to his building, all he can think about it taking a shower and collapsing back into bed. A group of maintenance workers are outside, replacing the stair’s handrails. A few weeks ago, he’d heard whispers from neighbors that some rich jerk had bought the building.

Peter sighs, wrapping his hand up in a towel, not caring it will stain. He sits down on the floor and pulls his knees to his chest. The laughter is fading, leaving him with nothing more than a throbbing hand and the faint street sounds of Gotham.

Despite his efforts, sleep refuses to return to him. Faint laughter still echoes in his ears. Too wide smiles, dripping red, play on repeat. Not wanting to see them anymore, he rolls onto his back and stares up at the ceiling.

“And maybe, just maybe I’ll come home”

But its exhausting and the hours are shit. Walking around Crime Alley that late at night is just asking to get mugged. Dick blinks, feeling warmth creep across his cheeks. He scrubs at his eyes and then checks his watch. His cup of coffee has grown cold since he’d sat in the café. Outside on the street people bustle about.

He’d asked him about it once, only for Frank to laugh. It builds and builds, drowning out all other noise. “Try and keep up, old man,” he taunts. Their gruff words are lost amongst the sound of car horns and rushing wind. Fuck.” He hisses through his teeth. The knuckles of his right hand are split.