The couple looked around them, wondering in which direction they should walk. They had no idea where they were, although it looked vaguely familiar, something from a distant memory.
Deciding the most sensible thing to do would be to look for the authorities, they headed in the direction of the city's lights.
Once within the city, they stumbled through it aimlessly, not sure where they were going. One could say that they were lost.
Because of this lack of knowledge, they ended up in Gotham's notorious Crime Alley, a very dangerous place. So, naturally, a mugger tried to take a shot at them.
Mary screamed as the bullet brushed just past her ear, both adults ducking insitinctavely. The mugger then crept up on them, glowering. John pushed his wife behind him in an effort to protect her. The man before them laughed coldly at the feeble gesture, and pointed his pistol in John's face. Looking down the barrel, he saw his life flash before his eyes for the second time. Closing his eyes, he prepared for impact.
It never came. Instead, the mugger let out a howl of pain as the gun clattered to the ground. John reopened his eyes to see a man in a red helmet standing in the shadows, a gun in his hand.
"You must be a poor marksman," the helmet quipped, striding towards them and collecting the pistol from the ground, "to let a rubber bullet to dissuade your aim."
The mugger cowered in his faze, whimpering pathetically.
"P-please," he tried, "I beg you, don't kill me!"
The helmeted man sneered, "I should kill you, seens as though that's what you were going to do to these people here," he gestured to John and Mary, "but Bats doesn't like that, so I'll let you off this time. But if I see you trying such a stint again, you won't be so lucky."
The mugger whimpered, scurrying away.
Helmet turned to the Graysons.
"Are you insane?" he asked, "You should know better than to be in Gotham's Crime Alley at this time of night. Actually, scratch that, you shouldn't be in Crime Alley at all."
"We're lost," John explained, "We're looking for the nearest police station."
The helmet looked them over.
"Alright," he sighed eventually, "I'll take you there. Ask to speak to Commissioner Gordon, tell them Red Hood sent you. Don't speak to anyone else. Gordon's one of the only uncorrupted cops in this dump."
When they arrived at the station, they did as Red Hood had asked, and were soon ushered into a rather large office. A brown-haired man sat behind the desk; Commissioner Gordon.
"Please, take a seat, " he said, gesturing to the two chairs before him, "What seems to be the problem?"
He looked over at the couple seated before him, trying to work out where he had seen them before.
"We're not exactly sure ourselves," the man explained, "We're not sure how it happened."
Gordon frowned, "Why don't you start at the beginning, with your names."
"Mary and John Grayson," the woman replied.
Jim Gordon nearly tumbled out of his chair in shock.
After explaining to him exactly what had occurred that night, the commissioner gave them his side of the story. Neither group could explain how the Graysons had suddenly returned from the dead, but they both agreed on one thing: there was one person that definitely needed to know.
Richard Grayson was in his Bludhaven apartment when he received the call.
"Hey, Commish. What's up?"
"I need you down at the station. Something important cropped up."
Dick frowned. It was 03:34. What could he be needed for at that time?
"Alright, I'll be there in 30."
31 minutes later, Dick walked through the doors of Gotham P. D. The receptionist looked up at his entrance and gave him a small smile, "The commissioner's in his office. He's expecting you."
Dick gave a small nod of accent before heading in the right direction. Reaching the door, the 21 year old opened it onto a scene that would change his life.
Dick nearly toppled over when he saw who else was sitting in the office. They looked exactly like his parents. But, his parents were dead, so it couldn't be them, surely?
The two older Graysons stared at the young man in the doorway. They hadn't believed it when the commissioner told them that their son was now 21 years old, but seeing him there in the doorway put pay to that.
Both sets of Graysons stared at each other in shock.
"Who are you people?" Dick asked. He knew enough shape-shifters to realize that this could be a trick.
The older Graysons' breaths hitched. Did he not recognise them?
"They're your parents, Dick." the Commissioner responded, softly.
Dick shook his head, "My parents are dead."
Dick wasn't going to risk believing them only to relive losing them when he found out that it wasn't actually them.
"Dick…," Mary tried, softly.
"Fine," Dick said in Romani, eying them warily, "What was the name and breed of my first pet?"
His parents stared at him. It wasn't that he didn't recognise them, he just wasn't willing to believe it was them until he had confirmation.
"Her name was Zikita," John responded firmly, "An African Elephant."
Dick lost his tense posture and stared at them. Could it really be possible? Could they really be…?
"Dick," Mary said, tentatively, stepping forwards, "It's alright."
Carefully, she held her hand out towards him until she was close enough to gently caress his cheek.
With tears in his eyes, he brought his mother into a tight hug, which his father soon joined.
He had them back.
The Graysons had returned.