Little Lost Things

Deirdre and Dear

"Dear?"

"Yes, Deir?" 

"Do you think Greggy is alright?" 

"You know he doesn't go by that anymore, Deir." 

"I'm just not comfortable calling him by his new- it's not even a name! He's not even a real doctor. He dropped out."

"I know, Deir, I was the one paying the tuition fee." 

"Now he's practicing illegally." 

"I wouldn't call what he's doing practicing, Deir." 

"I'm going to call him." 

"Don't!...Deir."

"Well, why not? I birthed him. I deserve to know he's alive at least and not been shot by that nasty bird." 

"If you want to know he's alive just turn on the television, Deir." 

"I shouldn't have to turn on the television to see my own son." 

"Well, with any luck they'll soon lock him up over on the island, then when you go visit and won't run away as he does." 

"Dear! You can't possibly mean that. How can you say such-" 

"I apologize, I apologize. You know I only want the best for him. Maybe we can take him to the Maldives or Vanuatu. You know, some beautiful remote island with no extradition treaty." 

"He's too stubborn. You know, I think he likes it, all this bad press." 

"He certainly seems to like having that bird chasing after him." 

"You think? Maybe all this can be settled. A wedding could be just what he needs." 

"It was a joke, Deir. Here watch the news and see if Dr Dis- er, Greggy, comes on- oh, what do you know? He is. That's a co-inky-dink." 

"Is that...is he...? He's on a rooftop! My baby is on a rooftop! Oh I can't watch, just tell me what's happening. Tell me he's safe." 

"He's safe. Oh, maybe, actually...uh, the bird has him trapped. He's throwing those, whatcha-ma-thigs, uh, Wing-Dings! Yeah, he's throwing those Wing-Dings at Dr Dissect, I mean, our Greggy boy. Hmm...I think one hit him, no maybe that blood is just from one of his victims. 

"Oooh."

"There there, Deir. Hey, do you ever wonder why he only kills older couples whose children have flown the nest? They always seem so pleasant and loving, like us." 

"No I don't wonder. What's happening. Is he on the roof still?" 

"Well, the police have surrounded them... There's helicopters... This might be it, Deir. He might not escape this time. Guess we should have planned that trip to the Maldives sooner- ow! Was that necessary, Deir? Oh, he's looking over the edge, I think he's going to jump." 

"No!" 

"I thought you couldn't look?" 

"This might be the very last time I see my baby alive! Look, he's got that hooky thing off of the bird boy." 

"Grappling Gun." 

"Yes, oh there he goes. My Greggy is flying through the air like an angel. My baby boy is still in there somewhere." 

"Right..." 

"Aw, he's looking at the camera, he knows his mommy is watching. I love you baby! Come home- eek, that wasn't him killing the reporter, was it?" 

"I think the reporter just dropped the camera trying to open a bottle of ketchup, Deir." 

"Sarcasm doesn't suit you, Dear. Come now, we've got a trip to pack for. We can sneak him out of Gotham on your sister's boat." 

"Whatever you say, Deir."

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Disclaimer: Obviously components of this are DC's, I just borrowed them.

It's short and a bit of an experiment but I hope you enjoyed it.