"Fun and Games"

by Daria

[The following story is fan-fiction, written purely for entertainmentpurposes. It may not be reprinted in any form without my permission and maynot be reused for profit. I don't own any of these characters; copyrightedhero names belong to DC Comics.]

Prologue:

A limp, lifeless-looking, ashen body lies listlessly at rest at the bottom ofthe cold porcelain ball-and-claw footed bathtub, tiny oxygen bubbles streamingfrom partially opened lips. The tub is filled to within an inch of capacity,and the icy cold water is as still as the small frame which lies beneath thewater line. This silent scene is shattered by the sudden shriek of a man goneberserk with rage, revulsion and fear. "Oh, my word! Master Richard! MasterRichard! What have you DONE?!"

Part 1

As the butler's scream awakens me this strange morning, I'm immediately aware that I'll have to come up with a good explanation for my behavior. With thesound of a gurgling aquarium pump in the background, and, in my room, thecloak and dagger goings on of a few hours ago, the events of the last dayalmost seem like a dream. Of course, it doesn't help that I only went to sleepfour hours ago, a fact which explains why my mind is the human equivalent ofmush right about now. If Alfred's accent were Cuban instead of English, Icould only expect that his next words would be "Dicky---you've got some'xplaining to do!"

Alfred, the world's most "veddy veddy English" butler, always summons me forbreakfast by 7:30am if I don't show up at the table by then to have breakfastwith my guardian. But, like I said, I only just went to bed a couple of hoursago, so I'm pretty tired and not thinking about food, and I sure didn't set myalarm. And I was having such a lovely dream, too, but then the dream was a continuation of my great adventure from the previous day and especially fromthe night which followed it. I want to pinch myself for a reality check as Irecall how all of this started, for I barely believe it---and I lived it.Funny as it all seems now, it sure didn't start out that way, but then I guessthat's how a lot of great stories begin.

It was one of the biggest, messiest skirmishes I've ever seen, and I've seen a lot of them. Not that I've been at this all that long; heck, I'm onlythirteen! But acting as aid and partner to Batman for a couple of years hasexposed me to some pretty insane situations, about as insane as a lot of thecrims we corral and send back to either Stonegate Prison, or, if they belongto that whacked-out fraternity of freaks, back to Arkham Asylum. Butthis...this was something other than else, man.

There we were on a small island in the Bay, due south of Stryker's Island, outside of Metropolis, and there was debris and huge hunks of metal strewn all over the sand. An army of tripod-legged robots under the control ofBrainiac---a computer entity who is one of Superman's losers---had been on theattack, and it took the combined might of members of the Justice League ofAmerica and numerous other heroes to put them down. These fantastic heroes haddrawn the fight to this island to avoid any civilian casualties, for if theonslaught could be repelled out there, the robot raiders would never breechthe shores of the coastal USA. It was amazing to be in their company, whatwith the combined forces of the Man Of Steel, the Green Lantern and thatamazing ring of his, Aquaman---the man from Atlantis, The Flash---fastest manalive, and the Green Arrow, the world's finest archer, all of them ready foraction. Don't get me wrong---this isn't the first time I've been able to workwith so many of these marvels, but it was the first time that I wasn't theonly person under 5' 5" fighting along side of so many of them!

To my amazement, there was a boy who could travel just as fast as The Flash.He was a streak of yellow and red, accented by an ample-sized bouncing swatchof red hair to match his costume, and I heard him referred to as "Kid Flash." During the fight, I heard him bantering back and forth with his mentor, thoughI didn't understand a word of it, for only they can understand the pitch andtimbre of a high-velocity voice while in motion. It made me want to get toknow him---if we survived the mania of this encounter, of course. It sureimpressed me that another kid would want to put his life on the line to fightfor justice. And then, there were three of us.

The other boy was so intriguing to me that he had my keen detective senses tingling right away. He was a little shorter than I am, and a littlethin---but not to the point of being too frail-looking. With an olivecomplexion dotted by tiny freckles across his cheeks, and that set off withjet black curly hair, he made for a striking vision. Kind of reminded me ofme, sans the freckles; maybe, like me, he's of Romany stock, producing thatswarthy, southern European look. Unlike Kid Flash, he was silent throughoutalmost the entire encounter, so quiet that at first I couldn't figure out justwho he was there in tandem with. And that "near-frail" look to him? That wasas deceptive as the mask I wear, something he, unlike most costumed heroes,didn't sport. That kid had a punch that could have kayoed a pro boxer with onehit. Pound for pound, this boy managed to hold his own against a couple ofthose tin monsters, and that was without any weapon other than his hands. Iwanted to get to know him as well, and even though I'd fought beside him formore than an hour, I still didn't know his name. It took a while before Inoticed the gold "A" on his belt; it matched the one I knew Aquaman to wear.This boy was an Atlantean too. Whoa.

When I finally saw that golden "A," it was from the ground up, while lying onmy back on the warm sand. Having come so close to death just a few momentsbefore that, I needed a breather and a moment to get my head together. And Iowed someone a big "thank you." The shadow of death, as personified by thosecyber-robots, loomed over me, one in front of me, one behind me, but at thetime, the Tinman in front of me had my attention. A well-placed batarang haddone major damage to what I assumed to be a hydraulic cable, yet this hulkington of metal was still advancing toward me.

A scarlet streak had begun to circle around the legs of the robot before me,and in a glance I knew that The Flashes had things under control. With the twoof them running at lightning speed around the base of this behemoth, theycreated a vortex which sent this monstrosity falling backward onto the beach.Meanwhile, behind me, a second metal giant was beginning to reel from thedrubbing it received from the combined blows of a dainty yet dangerous flyinggirl, the Atlantean boy and the Green Arrow, who had used a lariat arrow totangle the robot's legs. I had seen the shadow of the girl on the sand as shecame between me and the sun, and the boy from the sea had run past me to jointhe attack, but I didn't find out about the Green Arrow's work until theseevents were recounted to me later in the day. His well-placed arrow waseffective in helping to topple the giant; unfortunately, between the listingrobot and the ground on which it would fall stood this little Robin who waspreoccupied with that robot's kin in front of me.

As the shadow created by the falling robot grew all around me, I was liftedoff of my feet and pushed clear of the soon-to-be-wreckage; I tumbled androlled sideways, getting wrapped up in my cape. A bit of an embarrassment ifyou're meant to be a professional at this game, because handling your cape islearned on day one of the job. As I finally came to rest on my back, the sunshut my eyes for me. Bringing my hand up as a shield, I looked around to seewho my benefactor had been and prayed it wasn't Batman. There's surely nothingworse than having your boss, partner and mentor find you laid out on theground during a take-down. Really ruins any shred of self-confidence a juniorpartner might have developed; take it from me, 'cause I've got first handknowledge of this and then some.

The clouds above rolled in and provided a light relief to all below, but not before the sun betrayed the hero standing next to me, for the rapidlydeparting sunlight glinted off of the metal symbol on his belt. "Thanks forthe save. Aqua...boy, I presume?" I fumbled for a name as I panted, stillshort of breath. He simply stared at me with a mild look of concern on hisface. Then a second shadow joined his, much taller and far more imposing."It's AquaLAD, actually. Now get up; there's still work to do." Oh great. It'sthat familiar low grumble of a voice that always reminds me of what my stomachsounds like when I'm really hungry, the same voice which always reminds me ofwhat more I could do and how much better I could do it if I "really" tried. Asif I don't "really" try. It just had to be the Batman, didn't it?

He stalked off without another look at me, almost as if he couldn't stomach another look at me, but not before he gave an approving pat on the shoulder to the "lad." My face must have shown my self-loathing, because it, in turn,evoked a grief-stricken look on this boy's face. That didn't last long, though. This kid had a certain something about him---a kindness, a gentle nature...I don't know what to call it, but I could see it plainly right away.And then he proved it. A blue gloved hand extended down to me, then a secondone, and he took my hands in his own and pulled me to my feet. I was about tothank him again when he suddenly turned with a start toward the beach. Ascreeching sound of metal hitting metal caught the attention of most everyoneon the shore, and, out in the water, the orange and green garbed Aquamanseemed to be getting the worst end of a tangle with yet another of the metalbeasts.

"Minnow! Minnow----get out here and take the other end of that net! What areyou waiting on? HURRY! " The brawny blonde king of all the oceans barked hiscommands, sounding for all the word like a cross between an angry Russian sea captain and a New England fisherman, a curious accent indeed for someone whois supposed to be from the fabled sunken lands of the eastern Atlantic. Hebellowed like the winds of a hurricane at that little boy, who seemed all themore small because of the litany of diminutive names leveled at him by hismentor. "Minnow." "Tadpole." "Sardine." "Squirt." "Shrimp?!" I didn't hear"Guppy" in the minutes which followed, but I certainly expected to. And, forhis part, the Minnow did work equal to the force of a whale, thrashing away atthe lower end of a metal monster, while his mentor bashed away at the head andshoulders. That lasted until the tin freak was able to maneuver a claw aroundthe golden-haired hero and flung him to the sands of the beach.

Superman swooped in, moments too late to catch Aquaman but just in time tostop some hefty debris from finishing the job on him. Next, the Man Of Steelpicked up the steel man that the king and his young page had been attackingand hurled it what seemed to be several miles out to sea. Even in his haste,he was careful to toss the giant far beyond the shipping lanes and thesportfishing areas and out into deep water. Always impressive to watch, thequiet dignity of Superman shown through all of his efforts. Before he flew offto another end of the battlefield, I saw him lift the aquatic boy out of thewater, and, deftly holding him around the waist, the mighty man sailed himgently to the side of his fallen comrade. That kid fell to his knees next tohis mentor in a vision of grief I hope never to have to equal with my own. Hegave what comfort he could to his wounded friend in the midst of the mayhemall around them, and shielded him from the scorching sun, the heat from whichcaused them visible pain as their exposure to it continued. Maybe the otherheroes would have done more to help them had the needs elsewhere not been sogreat. Sadly, these water marvels seemed to be on their own for the timebeing.

By the time the super-rumble ended, there were shreds of spandex costumes in a myriad of colors littering the beach, and lying among the metallic lumps of smoldering robot parts were the limp forms of several heroes. With the defeatof the robot soldiers came a hushed silence. I took a few moments to surveythe cost of the battle, scanning the glittering sands, taking stock in whatremained of the afternoon's mayhem. The first area my eyes hit was a spot nearthe edgewater where two now familiar figures lingered. There, huddledtogether, the strikingly virile-looking Aquaman lay gasping in the sand, withthe small boy who had come to aid him hunched over him, using his body toshield his friend from the sun. I saw him cupping his hands to gather waterfrom the surf to pour it over his fallen mentor. It was such a sad scene, andit seemed of little comfort to either of them when Superman went over toexamine Aquaman's injuries. I was suddenly hit with a great desire to standnear Batman, if only to reassure myself that I had survived...and so had he.

Part 2

As I walked in the shadow of the wind-swept red cape of Superman, I bent downto the ear of the frightened boy as he leaned over his partner. "Don't worry,"I said with as much hope as I could muster up, "he's going to be all right. Iknow it." As his head slowly turned to face me, I was startled beyond beliefby his eyes---he had lilac-colored irises, of all things! My face never hidesmy emotions---something I've got to work on---and my feeling of shock musthave been written all over it, like a graffiti artist covers the side of abuilding. As the boy faced me and he noted my expression, his eyes dropped andhe lowered his head. I sure didn't expect that, and I felt ever so badly forstaring. I put my hand on his shoulder, patting it gently as my mentor haddone not so long ago. "If you need any help, I'm here, ok?" I reminded him,and he nodded without looking at me again. I could tell I'm not the only onewho has freaked over those eyes, and I felt like a real rat for making himfeel badly.

Before I could say anything more, Superman leaned down to me. "I'll see to Aqualad, Robin. Meanwhile, find Batman and ask him to contact S.T.A.R. Labs immediately. I'll be flying Aquaman in for observation within a few moments.""Check, Supes---I mean Superman...errr....sir!" I blurted out. Man, I've justgot to check my mouth at the door before the next mega-rumble, but it's sohard to put a lid on it , what with what Batman says about his compatriotswhen we're alone. He always refers to this super-strong alien as "Supes," or"The Big Blue Boy Scout," and it's usually said with a scowl. Superman ishardly his favorite person, especially since they tend to clash on theirtheories of criminal justice. That's only to be expected, I suppose, sincethey deal with totally different kinds of felons, and their views of the worldcome from two completely different kinds of upbringing---farm boy vs. richboy, "The Real McCoys" vs. "The Untouchables." Batman knows a lot about thissecretive man; to Batman, no one is above suspicion, and everyone's past mustbe available for inspection. I don't know what Superman knows about Batman'salter ego, but there's not much about Superman that Batman hasn't managed tofind out.

Something else which separates them: Superman's rogues gallery can be from anywhere and do most anything, while the crims Batman and I end up chasing are mostly generic nuts without alien superpowers or anything. That doesn't makethem any easier to apprehend---it just means they usually don't fly or shooteye beams at us. Big deal. A rocket launcher aimed correctly does the same orworse damage, and we've sure seen our share of those.

As I walked across the sand to get to the Batboat anchored in the surf, a will-o-the-wisp sprang up on the sand in front of me, flinging the granules up and into the air to form a dusty cloud. I drew my arms up and covered my eyesto protect them, as, just then, the turbulent air suddenly came to a halt. Theblur turned into hazy yellow and red, and then into the image of Kid Flash.

"Hey there!" he said, flashing a mouthful of pearly white teeth framed in adevilish smile. "You're..." "Robin," I volunteered before he could say it, andI offered my hand in friendship. "I saw you out there working with The Flash.That's amazing---I didn't know there's a 'world's fastest kid' as well.""Yep---and I'm it, kiddo," he laughed as he, to emphasize the point, rancircles around me faster than my eye could follow. I felt as if I were acartoon character with my eyes rolling around in my head uncontrollably. As heat last came to rest in front of me, I put my hand out and grabbed hisshoulder, mainly to steady myself from the dizzy feeling in my head he hadinduced. "Errrrr....don't do that ever again, Kid...Flash..." I warned him,and I tried, laboriously so, to walk away.

"Wally!" he called after me. "Excuse me?!" I asked, indignation causing myshoulders to go rigid. Feeling my adrenaline rise as I massaged my forehead, Ireadied my fists to belt him for name-calling. "The name's Wally, Wally West.Call me sometime and we'll get together, ok? I can be in Gotham City within aminute or two. You can get in touch with me through the JLA." Too dazed toturn around, I flung out an arm and waved back to him. "Yeah....I'll callyou...Wally." I heard him suck his teeth as he giggled, "Huh? That's what Isaid. Call me Wally. Spaz."

"Dick!" I yelled as I continued away from him, and I turned slightly, only tosee his fists clenching. A sudden gust of what at first seemed to be a breezestopped abruptly behind me, nearly slamming into me; it was actually the redand scarlet streak of Wally West, covering more than thirty feet in a nanosecond. "Wha'd you say?" he grumbled. "It's ok, Fleet Feet!" a third voiceentered the picture. "Dick's his name, Flasher," said a taller boy withWally's same color scheme, only dressed like his senior archer, Green Arrow.I'd seen Speedy before today; we were recently involved in a caper with ourtwo mentors, and I'd noted his amazing abilities with a bow and arrow, coupledwith a rather surly demeanor and a wicked tongue.

"My, we're being rather informal for a public display of super-hormones, aren't we Birdy Boy? Betcha Bats won't like that!" Speedy quipped, and of course Roy---as I knew his name to be---was quite right. Wally didn't seem to care whether others knew of his dual identities; he seemed to be so proud ofhis high-velocity abilities that I could see him strutting into school for"Show And Tell" in that junior-Mercury get up. Roy, for all his posturing, was pretty tight-lipped about his non-hero persona, at least from what I'dwitnessed in our previous encounter, though I'd gotten the impression that hismentor was not at all secretive about his own dual nature. As for me, mymentor would probably kill me if he had any idea that I'd told either of theseguys my real name. The Batman has no sense of humor and detests familiarity,and I got the impression that no member of the JLA no matter how mighty wouldever think of calling him "Bruce!" Bruce Wayne is a character he plays by day;Batman is his 24/7 reality.

As I called out to my shadowy partner on my wrist communicator and conveyed Superman's message, a shapely shadow passed overhead and all the talk from the two teen heroes behind me screeched to a halt. Wonder Girl's lithe framelifted into the breeze, and I saw her look down at the three of us boys. Hertake-off from the ground was like that of an angel who suddenly floated aloftvia the kiss of a breeze, so unlike, by comparison, Superman's leap intoflight, an action that is more akin to a rejection on his part of theauthority of Mother Earth's gravitational pull, for it has no effect on him.The sun behind her clawed at my eyes as I tried desperately for a better viewof this heavenly body, but I was sure I saw her wink...at me. Wow. Imagine mydisappointment a moment later when I heard the whooping and cat-calls comingfrom behind me.

"Aw man! Did you see that babe?! She loves me! I'm down here, baby!" screamedRoy, laughing and waving at the lovely Amazon girl as she floated above us."You?!" Wally yelled as he smacked Speedy's yellow cap off of his head. "Getoutta town! She was looking at me!" I could only sigh to myself. Maybe shewasn't looking at me at all, but I sure wish she had been. I remember thinkingthat she seemed like a nice girl and she certainly was amazingly formidable ina fight. I hope I'll get to know her one of these days, but then I'd guessthat every guy she ever meets must feel that way.

In a moment, the young Amazonian warrior was passed in the sky by the imposing red and blue shape of Superman, who now effortlessly cradled an unconscious Aquaman in his arms as if the Sea King weighed the same as a feather. As Ilooked back down the sand, I could see the slight figure of Aqualad walkinginto the waves, head hung low as if the world rested on his shoulders. Iremember wondering if he had anyone to go home to, since it occurred to methat he was most likely an orphan, seeing as he lives with Aquaman. I thoughtabout how far away Atlantis must be---too far for a kid to have to go thedistance alone into the dark water of the bottom of the ocean. I couldn't helpbut think about the night I walked out of the big top into the eveningdarkness after I was suddenly left orphaned and alone in the world. Thethought made me shudder as if hit by a sudden cold chill, as if my name werebeing spoken in a graveyard.

Thinking about my parents' deaths and the horrors I went through following them---being locked up in the Gotham Youth Home, a hotbed of violence and juvenile delinquency---always does me in. My only crime was being left with no living relatives, allowing the uncaring legal hand of fate, the Gotham County Child Welfare Services, to step in to remove me from the "corrupting influence" of the circus---people who loved me and wanted me---only to placeme in the Home, where I was immediately and savagely victimized. The one thingthat awful experience did for me was to make me more sensitive to the plightof kids who are lost, alone, abandoned or trapped within the system. There's alot of it about, and one of these days I hope to be able to do something about it.

As I watched the boy disappear into the foamy waves, I thought about thebeatings I took inside GYH and the relief I felt after a few days of gettingused to my new life in my benefactor's home, and I hoped Aqualad had someplace nice, cozy and safe to retreat to after the day's catastrophic events.My memories of those vulnerable days I'd lived through not long ago alwaysbring tears to my eyes. But heroes don't cry, at least not in uniform, so Ihung my head and combed the beach for clues, evidence---anything to get thehurt out of my mind. And I said a silent prayer for that kid to get homesafely, wherever the heck "home" is for him.

"He shouldn't be in the Justice League of AMERICA, you know," I heard KidFlash say to Speedy, easily loud enough to carry to other ears, maybe even Superman's, the one considered by most folks to be the "main man" of all superheroes. Superman's super hearing ability probably allows him to hear teenagegirls whispering secrets to each other in the next state, a fact Wally is perfectly aware of, so this was more likely an attempt on his part to see howRoy and I felt about such an "issue" than an effort to influence JLA membership. I stopped in my tracks and turned to the two red-heads. "Who shouldn't be?" I asked. "The fish," Wally said, snobbishly, "He's NOTAmerican. He's got a funny sort of accent...and Atlantis isn't a state." "Notyet it isn't," I snarled back, "but I'm sure if LexOil drills deep enougharound that place and strikes crude, it'll suddenly be the 51st state ofAmerica. Those robots weren't attacking Atlantis, were they? Still those twopeople came from that far away to help save our butts. I'd say they wereacting as Americans, even if they aren't. We should be praising them, nottrashing them."

Wally raised a suspicious eyebrow and then lowered both, glaring at me. "Haveto be careful, that's all. They aren't Americans no matter what else they do.Who knows what their motivation is? Isn't Atlantis near Cuba?" Speedy began tolaugh, adding, "Yeah, and since we can't make out what accent they've got,Carpman and Tunaboy could be communist spies. And, errr...Wally? Doesn't TheFlash wear an awful lot of red?" He snickered loudly while walking away,raised his hand to his head and rotated his index finger to demonstrate theinternational symbol of idiocy. "He's all yours, Bird Boy!" he called back tome.

Wally, obviously a sheltered little Mid-Western dweeb suffering from rampaging xenophobia with a touch of stupid to go along, merely folds his arms andstared at me. "Mark my words, Birdy, those two are weird. I'm watching them. I watch everyone."

"Ooooo....I'm shaking," I said, folding my arms in a similar threateningmanner. NOKD. That's what he was doing to those aquatic heroes, in a sense; hewas NOKD'ing them. I've learned all about that at the private school I attend,and it's no fun being the subject of that kind of treatment. The snickering,the sneering, and then the remark: "...he's not our kind, darling." Nah, I'mnot their kind. I'm just a "circus freak" who "got lucky," like my parents'deaths made for some sort of windfall, with my safety net being Bruce Wayne'smillions. Even worse, I get this treatment from Bruce's too-rich-for-their-own-good house guests too, the ones who look upon me with such mock "poorthing is out of his element" pity. It's the same thing Wally was doing,putting down Aquaman and his friend and devaluing their worth and theirassistance to us based on where they are from. I've been on the receiving endof that kind of attitude a number of times since moving to Gotham City, ingeneral, and Wayne Manor, in particular...and I hate it.

Realizing this is a useless thing to fight over, I decided to direct myattention to other things. "If you'll excuse me, I've got some REAL sleuthingto do," I growled as I turned to leave. "And, just as a tip, you really shouldstop getting your political views from cows and the guys they keep warm at night." I didn't care what he did or said after this; I just didn't want to bein his company, and, for his part, he seemed to feel the same about me, though I figured he'd be asking lots of questions about me to anyone who would listento him. Somehow, I'll bet Wally really does watch everyone else. As fast as hecan move, he may as well do. He's certainly got time on his side.

Part 3

As I roamed the beach, a bright golden glint hit my eyes, and I ran a few feetto see what I'd found. I knew it wasn't part of one of the robots, becausethey were made of a chromium steel alloy and, thus, had a silver-gray finish.I dug my fingers into the sand and yanked at the sharp metal piece. A golden "A," the symbol of Aquaman. It must have been dislodged from his belt duringthe battle, I figured. I noted there was a tiny communicator button on the back; I assumed it to be S.T.A.R. Labs technology. I could feel a subtle vibration coming from the button as I pressed my thumb against it; it was my guess that it emits a sonar pulse signal that Aquaman could pick up on nomatter where he traveled in his vast domain. I'd always wondered how the JLAgot in touch with a man who lived at the bottom of the Atlantic. Clever bunch,they are.

"Robin! To the Batboat!" the gruff voice screamed to me. Yikes! I'd been sobusy contemplating my find that I'd forgotten where I should have been----backat the Batboat. I heard cackling from nearby from the two yellow and redsuited red-heads, who laughed loudly as I ran by. "Fly, Robin! Fly!" Speedyyelled. I considered a rude hand gesture, but the Batman was watching me as hestood there at the boat mooring, his massive arms folded across his chest ashe leaned against his testosterone-powered speed bucket. He glared at methrough narrowed eyes, and his down-turned mouth indicated he'd been waiting afew minutes too long for his taste. I overheard a sympathetic Speedy as helowered his voice and said to Kid Flash something that included, "...gives methe total creeps..." I didn't have to hear the rest. There's probably no oneon Earth that the Batman doesn't spook. He could make Superman blink.

The Dark Knight and I rolled and rocked home, cushioned in the black inner sanctum of the Batboat, with him giving me the silent treatment most of theway. It wasn't really that Batman was angry with me; it had been a horribleday all around. Though Brainiac's legion had been defeated, it had been at afearsome cost. Beyond whatever injuries Aquaman had suffered, Green Arrow hadreceived several nasty-looking cuts and bruises for his trouble, and even the lightning-fast Flash had experienced a bad blow to the head, a hit so strongthat it had flung him across the island like a rag doll. Batman hatessurprises, and the robot legion had certainly been different from anythingwe'd come up against back home in gritty, grimy, decaying Gotham City. For allof his frigid aloofness, he didn't like seeing his friends hurt . Although hisexpression never varied from one end of the day to the next, the concern hehad for his fallen comrades was evident to my seasoned eye. I shifted my gazeelsewhere as he bristled with my scrutiny of his features, so I busied myselfrearranging controls on the onboard computer. The last thing I wanted was tohave Batman's temper directed at me. As we flew through the causeway on therocky waves along the shoreline route to the outskirts of Gotham, I hoped withall my heart that, just for once, all was peaceful and calm in my adoptedhometown tonight, and that its two busiest guardians could just go home andget some rest.

. . . .

"A bit late for a full course dinner, Master Richard," Alfred said as I camedownstairs following my bath. I'd had sand in my hair, my boots, probably evenmy shorts, and soaking in soapy water while answering Jeopardy questions blaring from my bedroom TV seemed just the thing. Alfred, Bruce's trusty and spit-spot butler, gets rather fussy when his meal plans are thwarted, butafter several years of Bruce's nocturnal adventures, he's learned to cope. "I have, however, prepared some light comestibles for your consumption. Yourchoice from the larder includes slices of Virginia ham, fresh fruit, chickensalad, digestive biscuits, Major Grey chutney, piccalilli and several agedcheeses. Be sure to eat your apple, drink your milk, wash your plate and glassand return the platter to the refrigerator when you're finished." "What aboutBruce? Is that for his dinner, too?" I asked. "No, Master Bruce is presently having tea as he works downstairs on the computer. I'll be straightening up in the study if you need anything." So I ate alone in the kitchen, which isn't atall unusual in this massive, stuffy old household. Alfred does his thing, Bruce does his, and I'm left alone to do mine, except for when I'm in training...sometimes. Heroics can be a lonely life, and being the ward of aman obsessed with it only compounds the hurt.

Later, here in my bedroom, I curled up under the blankets and pulled the comforter over my head. Nothing on TV to keep me awake; no old movies tosoothe me from the traumas of the day. Damn infomercials anyway. I sure misslate-night black and white Mae West fests, those cool ancient comedies I usedto watch with my mom while we settled down in the early hours of the next dayafter a night of "oooo's" and "aaaahhhhs," swinging high above the awe-struck townies in the thin air at the top of the big tent. I miss Mae West, I missthe laughs, but mostly...I miss Mom. And since there was nothing else ofinterest on the tube and I felt like crying, I figured I might as well crash.Sleep...the great equalizer, for asleep I don't have to please anyone, jumpthrough hoops, fly off of rooftops or pine for the good ol' days.

Part 4

I could have sworn I closed one of the double French doors of my balcony,while leaving the other slightly ajar, but I was soon awakened by a suddenchill and a breeze which blew the homework papers from my desk and into thetrash bin next to it. Good; it was as if I'd planned it that way. Reluctantly,I kicked off the bedcovers and threw myself out of bed. I hate to walk thecold floor in my bare feet, but if I had opened my eyes to look for myslippers I'd have never gotten back to sleep. I'm like that: once awake, I'mwide awake. Stumbling across the floor, I reached out almost instinctivelywhen I figured I was in grasping distance of the door knobs, and I fumbled inthe dark, running my fingers along the wooden moldings to find the ornatehandles.

My room is on the second floor with an outside balcony which overlooks thepool, so I never worry about securing the doors at night. No one would thinkof breaking into imposing, stately Wayne Manor---that's why there's no burglar alarm. This place screams murder mystery from the outside, so no one would try it. Besides that, just beyond the grassy property line that my doors face, there's a steep, treacherous cliff that ascends from the depths of this inletof Gotham Bay. Only the seagulls can manage a trip from the bottom to the top.

"It is over there," I heard a light, strange voice say, the sound of whichimmediately sent my body into attack mode. I assumed a martial arts positionand prepared to defend myself, and through squinted eyes I peered around thearea of the double doors and used the moonlight to my advantage. "Come out,whoever you are!" I yelled as my eyes began to adjust to the dim light. "I amright here; can you not see me?" the lilting voice said. I detected nomovement other than feeling my heart racing, but since the figure made no movetoward me, I began to back up and to reach for the light fixture next to mybed. Remembering that my guitar was leaning against the headboard of my bed, Ifigured I could do an "El Ka-bong!" on my assailant if I needed to, so Iinstinctively grabbed its neck and prepared to swing it. I flicked the lighton in the same pass as grabbing the guitar, and, as light flooded the room, afamiliar form standing next to the French doors began to take shape."Aqualad?!"

"Hello," he offered in a timid voice. "Do you remember me?" I loosened my gripon my guitar, leaned it against the nightstand, and straightened up. Notwanting him to think he'd gotten the drop on me, I pushed my drooping blackbangs out of my eyes and shrugged my shoulders. "Of course I remember you.I...I was just startled, is all..." "Oh, because you looked as if you weregoing to hurt me," he said cautiously, as he scanned my room with anexpression of awe. "I like your dwelling very much," he added, and I notedthat he still hadn't moved an inch from the spot where he first plantedhimself, near the outward opening doors. "You can come in, you know. You'llcatch cold standing there...and I'll get a towel for you. Alfred will kill usif he finds water all over the place." Dumb-bell! Cold? What's wrong with me?!This kid lives at the bottom of the sea! If he can survive freezing coldtemperatures down there, Gotham City in the fall is a cinch.

"Towel?" The funniest expression broke out on his face as he fingered myoffering, a big plush bath towel from the bathroom. "Ummmm....you dry yourselfoff with it," I instructed him, "...it'll take the water off of you.""Oh...and why would I want to do that?" he asked as he rubbed it against hisface. Then the answer came to him without any further assistance from me."Ahhhh...this is...very nice. Ok...I'll try..." My goodness; amazing howsomething I take for granted would seem so strange to someone like him. Butthen, what does he know of my world, I wondered. Probably way more than I knowabout his; that's for sure.

Politely as I could, I searched his features for whatever might give him awayas an Atlantean if I didn't know him to be one. Using my best-learneddetective skills, I started from the top: normal-enough looking hair, ears,nose, mouth---we're not going there eyes-wise! Pretty much the same build asme, no fins, no scales, no dorsal appendages, no gills that I could see.Nothing that would conjure up images of mermaids or creatures from the deep asseen in old horror movies. He looked harmless enough---cherubic to a fault, infact, and, judging from the events of this afternoon, I figured him to be onlyvulnerable when out of water for a while, not that I'd assumed him to be adanger anyway. After all, he's on our side. Though Batman had mentioned thewords "maverick," "loose cannon" and "royal pain in the...backside" in termsof Aquaman, I don't think any of that applied to this boy. He seemed to bequite the opposite.

"How the heck did you get up here?" I pondered aloud, scratching my head as Ileaned through the doors to see what he might have used to climb up. He couldn't possibly have climbed the sheer, forbidding cliffs protecting Wayne Manor from the sea. Sir Edmund Hillary couldn't have managed a climb that treacherous. "I did it in a leap from the cove," he replied, not looking up atme or stopping his water blotting. "Then I did the same from your water pondonto your ledge."

"Ooooo-kay....geez, you must have legs as mighty as a grasshopper's, pal." Helooked puzzled at me, but I caught him before he could even begin, "Nevermind. I'll explain that some other time. There's an easier way up via thewaterway through the underground caves, by the way. I'll have to show you thatbefore your next visit. Errrr....Why did you come here---and how did you everfind me?"

"I came because you called me, only I thought it was Arthur...the one you callAquaman...calling me. I am just as surprised to see you as you are to see me.Where is he, then?" He looked around my room, the enigma of it all written onhis face. I didn't know what he was talking about; how could I have..."I....Ididn't call you. How could I?...oh no!"

Then I remembered! The "A!" "Oh no----was it this thing?" Reaching for mytunic and belt dangling from the back of my desk chair, I pulled the goldenicon with its mini-transmitter out of one of the compartments on my belt."When I touched the button on the back, maybe I set it off. Is that it? I suredidn't hear anything." "I'd be puzzled if you did!" he giggled, taking theicon in hand. "It's not at a pitch your ears would recognize, but I could hearit plainly, even many leagues away from your shores. I did think it wasstrange, though, because I normally can sense things about Arthur, even from along way away, and that feeling did not come with the distress signal. Maybethat was because I am already worried about him."

"That's pretty deep, kiddo," I grinned at him. He and his mentor must have anamazing friendship; they must be the type to complete each other's sentences."Sorry to drag you all the way up here to Bristol on a wild goose chase,Aqualad. But maybe I can make it up to you by getting some information on howAquaman is doing. I can hack into S.T.A.R. Lab files anytime I want to and..."

Before I had even finished the sentence, I knew I'd lost him, so there was no need to complete it. No worry; he'd understand it later as I'd show him how to navigate the system to do some covert sleuthing. Some days I just love mywork, and hacking my way into lab files is one of my favorite challenges. Hey,it keeps me off the streets...

"I don't sense him to be in danger of death, but I am worried for him," musedAqualad quietly. "Sense? I thought he was only a telepath where fish areconcerned." I had to ask; see, I thought I knew everything about the JusticeLeaguers. Batman studies them all and keeps files on them, and I learn a lotleaning over his shoulder as he types away. He hates it when there's anunsolved mystery or any sort of unknown quantity, and the normally tight-lipped Aquaman poses a bit of a conundrum to the great detective.

"This has nothing to do with telepathy," Aqualad said, stopping his towelblotting to take a look at me. I noticed that each time he had done this, hiseyes purposely never met mine, but stopped just below or to the side of mine, his thick, kohl-black eyelashes acting as concealers. "I share a sort of linkto him, and I always seem to know when he is in pain or in danger. It is a type of .... well, extra-sense."

"It must be interesting to live with a man who can talk to sea creatures, though I can't figure what a flounder would have to say to anyone," I giggled,thinking myself quite clever for a moment as I flung my body back onto my bed.My humor was lost on my guest. "Most of those creatures have ancient souls;they know much about the rhythm of life from learning to survive in the seasfrom generation to generation, and these stories they impart to Arthur. And then....some of them just babble. Well...a great many of them do."

"Must make for some great tales, then, huh?" Fish tales, mostly, I'd figure,like how they got away from fisherman. I tried not to laugh at the thought; hewouldn't understand the humor in my play on words, and I wouldn't want toinsult him in any way.

"Arthur...errr, Aquaman...tells wonderful tales of the sea and her struggleswith man." I smiled broadly at this remark, which piqued Aqualad's interest;as an eyebrow raised, he boldly searched my face for an answer. "You laugh?You believe we of the seas have nothing of value to say?" "Oh no--not at all!"I corrected him. "I guess it's just that we on land always view it the otherway 'round---you know, like in the documentaries, like 'man and his attemptsat conquering the sea, harnessing her power' and all..."

"But in the end, she must win, Robin" came his thoughtful reply. "For if sheloses the battle, then all is lost---for your kind and mine." And, of course,he's right.

Part 5

Finished with dabbing at beads of water on his body, Aqualad fumbled with the towel, unsure as to what its function is after having served its purpose. "I'll take that," I offered, lifting the towel from his hands and depositingit where I usually leave such things...in a heap on the floor. Alfred wouldtake care of it sooner or later, delivering the same sermon he does each timehe enters my junked-up room: the one about neatness, about cleanliness being next to godliness and all. I usually do my own laundry when he lets me get toit first, so I don't see what the big deal is. If Alfred had his way, no onewould ever dirty anything, and what fun would that be? Sometimes he can be acranky old pain; it must come with the accent. But he's the closest thing I'vehad to a father since I lost mine, so I try very hard to please him...inmoderation, of course. I am new at being a teenager, after all.

On invitation, Aqualad decided to have a look around my room, and he developeda new fascination with all things electric. It was cute in that corny "cavemanmeets spaceman" sort of schtick, but I swore if he turned my nightstand lighton and off one more time...I'd bean him! Out at sea, it must have appearedthat I was sending coded distress signals from my bedroom window. "Maybe Iought to introduce you to television, huh, pal?" I figured this would keep himbusy for a few minutes, so I handed the remote control to him, pressing thebutton to turn the TV on, and lowering the volume so as not to alert Alfred,wherever he roamed about the house, that I was still awake. "This buttonchanges channels. Are you hungry? I can sneak down to the kitchen and getsomething for you---maybe a sandwich or some crackers?"

Pensively, he eyed the remote, then shifted his attention to me as he took aseat on the floor in front of my television. "Do you have any kelp, Robin?" "Errrr...no, I don't think so, 'cept Bruce might have some in capsule form asan health food supplement." Kelp?! Help! "And the name is Dick; I'm only Robinwhen I'm wearing the mask. So, do you want to try the capsules?" "Oooo...No, Ihave no real need of food, thank you...I ate yesterday, but I will need waterfairly soon. I did not like the water in your pond, though. It was painful tobreathe and made my gills itch. Is all your water of that sort?"

"The pool water is chlorinated, and...ewww, that had to hurt trying to breatheit! Yeah, no problem; I can get spring water for you from the kitchen." Justas I was saying this, a rumble in the heavens above the house stopped me in mytracks. One one-thousand, two one-thousand, three...I counted aloud andsearched the ceiling as if I could see the clouds through it, and then...amammoth crack of lightning flashed outside! My balcony doors suddenly blew in,and the light flickered and dimmed to a brown out. Poor Aqualad; the flashfrightened him so that the remote control for the television jumped from hishand, and, as the light brightened, I could see him curled up in a fetal position on the floor with his arms covering his head. The poor Minnow; life's tough above the waves!

"You can skip the 'duck and cover' drill, kiddo---it's ok now, " I comfortedhim. "I...think...I had better...go home now..." came the hesitant reply, andhe gestured toward the doors. "Oh no, you can't go out there! You heard thatthunder! There's a big storm off the coast and it's already raining heavilyoutside. You can stay here tonight!"

In my generosity, I'd forgotten that this wouldn't be an easy task, to make suitable accommodations for what's technically a two-legged mermaid. Hecouldn't sleep in my bed, for one thing. I remembered Batman saying thatAquaman needed water at regular intervals. These people have to breathe oxygenfiltered through the hydrogen bond in order for it to be of any use to theirbodies; otherwise, they slowly and painfully suffocate. If he fell asleep inbed, neither of us would remember to make sure he was getting properhydration. I figured he'd need at least a bathtub's worth of water in thehours until morning. Hey.....bathtub! That was the answer!

"I've got it, Aqualad!---hey, don't they call you anything besides that? Well,anyway, I've got it! You can sleep in the tub overnight, and by morning the storm should have passed over us. Then we can find out how Aquaman is. I don't dare use the computer now, what with the electrical activity overhead; it'stoo dangerous. In fact, I shouldn't even have the TV on because the electricalstorm might blow out the cable box." Reaching down, I picked up the controlsand turned the TV off, returning the room to the amber glow of the small bronze-colored Tiffany table lamp.

"Garth," he said quietly, forlornly surveying the blank TV screen. He'd beenseriously getting into a rerun of "Lassie;" said it made him homesick for hispet walrus. WALRUS?! "Sorry?" I asked, as I reached for the light dimmer onthe wall and turned on the fluorescent tubes which are shelved along the upperwalls of my room, allowing for various tones of dramatic lighting. Kudos towhoever designed, or more likely remodeled, this museum piece of a house."Garth," he said again, shyly, "My name is Garth."

I stopped in my tracks, perplexed by his demeanor. He seemed almost ashamed to say his own name. "Oh...that's a neat name," I replied, mostly fumbling forsomething to add to this revelation. "How come you and Aquaman have suchnormal names? I guess I figured with you two being from some place so exotic,you'd have names that were pretty hard to pronounce."

"Arthur told me he received his name from a landsman who cared for him for atime, when he was younger. I don't know why my mother called me Garth; I don't know why she called me anything at all, since she would not keep me. The authorities had decided I must die soon after birth; it could be there justhad to be a name on the birth and death records, I would suppose. The deathorder record is how I found my name. One of Arthur's friends, a city official,was able to find it for us."

"Wait wait wait wait wait!" I jumped in. "Death?! They wanted to kill---alittle baby?! What kind of nuts run that place?" "It is the way," he said,slowly, sadly shaking his head. "My eyes told them all they needed to know;they give me away. They say I am mentally and physically deficient; my mindand body may never develop properly. At least that's what the authoritiesbelieve. The high priest of the Shalakites---one of our religious groups---says I was born evil, the reincarnation of an evil wizard; my eyesprove it. He believes I will bring bad luck and danger to his people because I live."

"That's the craziest thing I've ever heard, and that includes the ravings ofthe Arkhamites. You're no more an evil wizard than...than I am! You ask me? You're better off away from those people. They're loonies."

Sighing, he stood in front of my dressing table mirror and stared at his reflection in the dim light. "But I am, you know. There's something wrong withme, but I just can't figure it out. Funny things happen to me, things that don't make sense at all. Sometimes I wake up surrounded by freezing water.Then, sometimes it's just the opposite---the water directly around me isboiling hot---yet I remain unharmed. It only seems to affect me as I sleep;it's a kind of curse. And I don't dare tell Arthur; he might send me away, andI'd be all alone again. I wouldn't want to live like that again. You won'ttell anyone about this, will you? Please...?"

"Of course not," I reassured him, "It's probably nothing at all---there couldbe any number of explanations for differing water temperatures. Kind of a'gulf stream' sort of thing, maybe." I didn't know what I was talking about,but as long as it made him feel better about himself, that's all that counted."You shouldn't let other people's superstitions make you feel badly aboutyourself. You're lucky---you have no idea how many people wish they could swimunderwater and view the oceans as you do. I bet those folks inside that cityare just jealous of you because you're on the outside and not cooped up in aglass bubble like they are."

"But you have never seen the wonders of their city as I have. As an exile, Iam not permitted to go into the city, but I wish I could someday. It looks so beautiful; it shimmers like a giant jewel in the dark of the ocean. I look in through the dome sometimes and dream that someday I might travel their streetsas they do, but I suppose that is stupid. I will always be an exile..." As his voice trailed off, his eyes were drawn to a framed picture on my nightstand,the one of me smiling in triumph between my parents, John and Mary Grayson.

Picking up the photo, I handed it to him. "That was taken after I had completed my very first aerial routine, during training for our act. I was so thrilled that I'd done something so tremendous that my folks could barely holdme down long enough for the picture to be taken. Man, look at me! My teethpretty much fill up the picture---I look like an Osmond!" Well, that was apretty silly analogy to make to a kid like him, I thought after the fact, so Itried to fix it, albeit quickly and clumsily. "Ummm....they're a family ofsingers with...well, never mind." Garth laughed quietly, "I know...the 'OneBad Apple' boys with the big grins, yes?" He knew from The Osmond Brothers?!

"Because I often come to the surface with Arthur, I find out about many things. He has acquaintances on sailing vessels and island researchfacilities. Some of them teach me about music and games and all sorts ofthings. This is how I know."

"Forgive me," I began, feeling rather foolish, "I didn't mean to make it soundthat you're out of touch, but I figure if you don't have radio or televisiondown in the ocean, you probably don't know a lot about pop culture and stuff.That's all I meant."

"Oh yes, and you are right, but I learn very fast and I learn from everyone Imeet. I like what music I hear...and 'Green Acres' and 'I Love Lucy.' I do not understand all of the words said, but people talking to farm animals is funnyin any language." I laughed out loud at the thought that somewhere in a caveat the bottom of the ocean, this kid was, on some cold, dark night, keepinghimself entertained by recalling lines from American-made sitcoms createddecades before his birth....much the way I recall those classic lines as I liehere in the dark of my room on nights when sad memories try to force their wayinto my brain. Realizing how much we have in common, I became certain of onething right there and then: Garth will become a dear friend of mine. No doubtabout it.

Since we hadn't seen lightning for a good half-hour and the thunder echoesseemed to have moved on for the time being, I turned the television back onand found a nostalgia shows channel for Garth to watch, then I began torummage through a box full of items under my bed. Comic books, a few oldpromotional posters for Haly's Circus rolled and rubber-banded, a baseball capBruce got for me at a Gotham Knights game---we sat in his box with his date,the swimsuit model, that night. That was the night I swore that when I grow upI'll never let a girl's whining and boredom interfere with me staying for adouble-header, because we, of course, had to leave before the end of the firstgame, thanks to Delphine. The humidity of the late afternoon air was makingher hair frizzy and her yawning and complaining was annoying people severalboxes away. Bruce bought me the cap as a token of apology. Whoopee. But Idigress...

So, let's see, what was I looking for...? Oh yeah---got it! At the bottom ofthe box I found the thing which jogged my memory, for hidden under the otherjunk was an air pump fit to service up to an one hundred gallon aquarium tank.Surely that should create enough oxygen bubbles to keep Garth quite happyduring the night---that is, if I could ever drag him away from reruns of "ThePatty Duke Show." From the moment he saw Cathy, he was enthralled; somethingabout that British accent just did him in. I hope he never asks if he can meether; I'd hate to have to be the one to tell him she isn't real.

"Does it ever scare you," he looked up at me from his position of being muchtoo close to the TV screen, "what you do with the Batman, I mean. Itis...dangerous. You must be very brave." "Don't you think what you do withAquaman is dangerous? Aren't you ever afraid?" I asked, rather surprised athis comment. "Oh no," he replied, "Arthur always tells me it's just fun andgames, even when we got captured by pirates. He told me it was just like'Peter Pan,' a story the lighthouse keeper told him, and he, in turn, told tome to make me go to sleep when I did not want to...." He pouted like a littlekid for a moment, then brightened up again. "I knew he only told me that so Iwould not worry. I wasn't sure we'd be able to escape that time, and, to behonest, neither was he, but we did with the aid of the sea creatures who cameto our rescue. They love Arthur. Some of them gave up their lives to help him.So I know we are never in any real danger because our friends will always bethere to aid us, and we do the same for them. Strength in numbers, as yourpeople say. Do you have such friends?"

"Errr....no, it's just me and Batman out there...but...but...we have a cave. Icall it The Batcave! It's kind of creepy...but it's pretty cool, too. Lots ofscientific equipment...and bats." Well, it's about all I could come up with; Idon't have anything cool like a pet walrus to brag about. The word "cave" hada strange effect on Garth; he began to grin wildly. "Yes, I know! We have acave too! I found it and made it our home, and I named it the Aquacave, inhonor of the stories Arthur told me of you and the Batman. You see, I want tobe just like you."

Imagine that---he wants to be like...me? Wow! I've only been that proud acouple of times in my life, like that night when a little kid at the circusbegged to take his picture with me and my folks. I had promised him I'dcomplete the nearly impossible quadruple somersault just for him; no one elsein the business had ever completed that move before an audience before. Thiswas never a sure thing, and I'd only done it in practice, but he wanted it sodesperately....and I did it. The look on his face was priceless, and Icouldn't believe that something I did could make someone else so happy. Ofcourse, that was the last thing I did professionally, because my folks diedonly a few minutes after that.

That poor little boy's emotions went from elation to devastation in a matterof moments, just as mine did. But for a few minutes that night, I was thatkid's hero, and looking at Aqualad right then, I knew it wasn't just a oneshot deal. I really do have something to offer, especially to other kids. Ilike heroics...I'm just not used to being told I'm a hero. That's deep, andprobably more responsibility than any kid my age should have. But as I thoughtabout the events of the day---being out there fighting along side other kidslike me---it occurred to me that there could be something to what Garth said,about there being "strength in numbers." Something to think about...but forlater.

By 3:45am, both Garth and I were pretty tired. My new pal had gulped several sixty ounce bottles of spring water, his eyelids were drooping and he was giggling at things that weren't even funny, so I knew it was time for bed. Ushering him into the bathroom, I basked in the glow of his fascination as I plugged in the air pump and hooked up the clear plastic line that wound feed oxygen into the bath water. But what about that hard porcelain surface?

"What do you usually sleep on back home, Garth?" I asked, looking around for asoft solution to our problem. "Sponges and woven sea grass. Do you have any?"he answered, flashing those big, innocent lavender eyes. "Errrrr....no. Butthere's a feather down comforter in my closet that'll pad the bottom, and thatand a pillow should do. I've got a night-light that'll make it a littlefriendlier for you, and we'll leave the door open. I'll only be a few feetaway. Do you want some pajamas? You can use a pair of mine."

His curious look turned curiouser. "Pajamas?" I pulled on the bedshirt I waswearing. "I have either another bedshirt like this or a cotton set with a topand bottom." Still curious, he answers, "I don't wear anything when I sleep.Am I meant to?" His question surprised me and I'll admit that it made me blushbright red. "Ummm...that's up to you, Garth. The bathroom is all yours; justsettle yourself in and let me know if you need anything else." No point inmaking him feel uncomfortable, especially when he's already in a foreignenvironment. As I filled the tub with tepid water, I checked the tube to makesure it was working and dropped it into the bath. Minutes later, while Ipulled the comforter from its drawer, Garth pulled the sheer, skin-like redtunic he wears up and over his head. Pushing the bedding down into the tub, Iadjusted the tube to make sure it wasn't going to be clogged by the bed cover,and then I dropped in a pillow I'd brought along from the closet. Garth saidhe didn't know what a pillow was since they didn't have such back home, butafter feeling its plush softness he decided it was something he very muchliked. It was then I began to marvel at how amazingly quickly he seemed toadapt to life above the waves; he absorbed everything around him like asponge.

Smiling brightly, Garth climbed into his cozy makeshift bed, tested the waterand settled into it. His gurgling voice let me know that he was quitecomfortable; he sounded like a fugitive from a cartoon show as his voicerippled through the water with every word. After saying a final goodnight tomy guest, it was time for me to crash as well. The happy little hum comingfrom the air pump let me know that my new friend would rest comfortably, and,jumping into bed, I pulled the covers up and sank down into the mattress. Withone final look at the bathroom door, I grinned at the wonder of it all oncemore. I just hoped that Garth wasn't the kind to thrash about in his sleep,because that would send water cascading out of the tub and onto the floor. Icould just see me having to explain a mess like that to Alfred.

THE END

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