Alright, they said when you are 9 that you're most likely in 4th grade, but Robin has a late birthday like I do, so he'd be 8 when he was in 4th grade for a long while… My little brother came home with one of these yesterday and told me to hide it for him, so don't judge me.

Telling you to go to Hell, but I'm talking to myself.

Richard stared blankly down at the tabletop in front of him. Tears burned lightly in his blue eyes and his hand that gripped his pencil quivered in anger at the tightness of his fist. Normally, most kids would be overjoyed at the chance to not have to do an assignment, but this one offended him to a level that he didn't know it could go to. It was Monday, May 2nd, five days before Mother's Day and his whole class was supposed to be working on a Mother's Day project in which they filled out poems and colored pictures and drew pictures and made stuff for their mothers.

Seeing that Richard was without one, Gotham Academy didn't assign him the project and instead told him that he could read or work on other homework for the next week, or they could assign him extra stuff for him to do. It wasn't often that a child under their roof was without a mother, let alone both parents. Richard wasn't mad about that though. He was happy about not having to do any work for a week. He had three really good books he had brought that he intended to finish soon, hungrily devouring their words. He wasn't mad because he could only read or work on other homework for the next week either.

What truly struck Richard's nerves, what really got underneath his skin, what truly pissed him off, was the fact that the teacher didn't even offer him a packet to work on. She just assumed because he didn't have a mother that he wouldn't want to work on one. That's why Richard hated his teachers. They all just assumed. Well, you know what happens when you assume? For one, the trapeze bars can snap under you because you assumed you were safe! For two, you assume that just because you're an average person, nothing bad will happen to you, and then something does!

With an angry sigh, the blue eyed babe wiped unshed tears from his eyes and picked up his dark blue Sharpie abused binder up and unzipped it to get some paper. He pulled out a single piece of lined notebook paper and released his tight grip on his pencil for a moment as he rezipped his binder and tossed it beneath his desk. He rested his head against his hand, running his fingers through his black hair and lost himself in thought for a moment as the wheels in his heads began to turn. Then his fingers grasped the pencil again and the pencil began to dance over the piece of paper as he let out his anger through lead and his small slice of tree.

XxXxX

Richard slipped his phone from his pocket and pressed 2, then pressing the phone to his ear. With his binder strap tight around his body keeping his binder with him and the piece of notebook paper tight in his other hand. Bruce picked up on the second ring.

"Hello?"

"Hey Bruce," Richard began, his feet falling into a fast pace as he walked to a familiar pace. "I'm going to be home a little late tonight."

"Why?" Bruce asked, barely after the words had left the boy's lips.

Dick smiled gently, ducking under the low dipping branches of a tree that was placed close to the white fence he was walking alongside.

"No duress here, father dearest," he assured his mentor. "I'm just paying Mother an early Mother's Day visit, seeing that I won't be able to on Mother's Day."

He heard Bruce sigh in relief.

"Do you want me to come and get you at four?" his gravelly voice offered.

"Yeah," Richard obliged happily. "Thanks."

"See you later," and then the phone went dead in Dick's ear.

The black haired boy pocketed his phone and continued down the familiar striped sidewalk, his eyes set ahead of him. He knew it wasn't much farther from here. He was cut down on time today, seeing that it was already 3:10, limiting him to only roughly 45 minutes to talk which hurt his heart, but he knew that it would have to do for now. He rounded the corner swiftly and broke into a light run towards the black stained gates before him. As he recognized the slabs of stone that now surrounded him, a familiar sorrow settled over him, but he didn't care right now. The green grass, as patchy as it was, and the beautiful and recent flowers that had been placed on the graves both raised his spirits a bit and he dropped his run to a jog as his eyes surveyed the rows of stone. He began to count the rows by memory, trying to find his row.

Two… three… four… five… the numbers kept growing the farther he got until he found the row he wanted. Twenty five… twenty six… Twenty seven!

He turned down the row, now counting the gravestones which he could quote by heart now. First was Joanna Johnson, and then were Marty Thomsen and his wife, Abigail Thomsen, buried beside him. After them came Anna Lewis and then Ashley Ranck, the young girl who had killed herself after her boyfriend broke up with her. She had been in Richard's grade last year.

"Hi Ashley," Richard bowed his head in recognition, his jog continuing to slow until he finally found the graves he wanted to see.

He froze in front of the graves belonging to his parents, Mary and John Grayson. He stared down at the dirt beneath his feet and in horror, he realized he was standing on top of their bodies, only a coffin lid and six feet of dirt keeping his feet from their bones. He stepped to the side until he was kneeling lightly beside his mother's grave instead, sliding his binder off of his back and onto the ground, upon which he rested his head. His blue eyes stared blankly up at the sky as he fought to think of what to say. Then he got an idea and turned his head sideways to look at the grave, his eyes heavy in their sockets.

"Hey… mom… dad…" he said gently, the grass tickling his bare arms.

The wind rustled his hair, reminding him of a year ago when a hand had once swept his hair gently, causing him to laugh gently back then. He laughed the same laugh at the thought, but it was a polite laugh.

"How do you wait for heaven? Who has that much time?" Richard sang lightly, his eyes watching the grass dance. [1]

The warm summer sun beat down on his body and he closed his eyes and cherished its warmth, listening to the birds chirp merrily.

"You always loved that song," he muttered.

He forced his eyes open again, his smile fading when he saw the graves again.

"Well, it's Mother's Day coming up," Richard began, his fingers playing with the edge of the notebook paper in his hands. "Bruce is taking me away on one of our… 'vacations'… so I won't be here on the real Mother's Day, so I thought I'd come here while I can. Sorry I can't explain the vacations to you Mom… If I know you, you wouldn't approve of it, but I trust him with my life and you've already lost yours so… I just hope that you trust him too."

A cloud passed over the sun, making the area darken momentarily. Richard glanced up at the sky, his eyebrows furrowed.

"It's nothing illegal Mom. In fact, we help people everywhere! We save lives… I just… put my life in danger a lot and you never seemed to like that, even when I just wanted to be on the trapeze…"

The cloud passed on and warmth wrapped around the boy, harboring him in its glory. His eyebrows softened and he laughed softly.

"Yeah, I noticed. You'd get that look in your eyes and you'd glance at dad when I'd beg you to let me even practice. You'd have Dad set up the net, just in case. I never fell though! Who would've thought that you would've been the one who ended up falling?" he sighed gently, his smile fading to a soft frown.

In the distance, he could hear someone else talking, but it obviously wasn't directed at him and there was no response, so he didn't think much of it.

"I drew you a picture… I know, it's stupid… it's just that… I got bored in class…"

Richard unfolded the paper and held it up against the sun so the picture was facing him. The picture was of a small boy and his mom. The mom was drawn so she looked faded almost and she had brilliant wings and a soft halo against her dark shaded hair. She was looking down at Richard with a smile on her lips, her arms tight around him. Richard's face was blank with no eyes, nose or mouth, showing that he didn't know how to react.

"It's stupid, isn't it?" he sighed, but before he could fold it up, the wind swept it from his grasp and it landed on his Mom's grave, held by a stubborn piece of grass.

Tears sprang to Richard's eyes and his mouth fell open in surprise. He blinked quickly and sat up, watching the piece of paper turn around so the picture was facing the earth where his mother lay. Tears fell hard from his eyes and hit the ground in huge drops. The tears were warm on his face and they quickened into soft sobs before he knew it.

'Calm down; it's not the end of the world. Just take deep breaths and calm down. That's right, deep breaths. No more tears' Richard heard his mother's words of ancient ring through his eyes as a sharp wind tore at his eyes, sending his tears flying off into the wind.

Richard smiled weakly and wiped at his eyes.

"Yeah, sorry about that… I shouldn't have started crying… It's just… I miss you," he whispered.

He picked up the picture and pocketed it, rubbing harder at his eyes.

"Happy early Mother's Day," he said gently.

He picked up his binder. It had to be nearing 4 and Bruce was strict on his time, even on matters like this, not that he would know why Richard was visiting the cemetery besides to visit his parents. He had no idea that Richard still celebrated Mother's and Father's Day by himself. Just as he threw his binder strap around his shoulders, he found himself face to face with a girl who looked maybe a year or two older than him. She had long and messy brown hair and her brown eyes were tear stained too, only she hid the stains behind her glasses.

"What are you here for?" she asked, her voice broken and frail.

Richard blinked in surprise.

"I'm uh… just visiting my parents… what about you? Are you okay?"

He noticed that she was wearing a white dress that fell to her knees that was heavily tear stained near the top. She sniffed hard and wiped at her eyes.

"Y-Yeah, I-I'm fine," she insisted, biting her lip. "They just… b-buried my little brother."

Richard's eyes softened. "I'm sorry. I know what it feels like to lose family."

The girl nodded and she set a hand on his shoulder, her eyes scared. Richard noticed that even though she was four or five inches taller than him, she looked a lot smaller.

"I… I… you look like you've been visiting them a while and I wanted to know…" her voice broke and she released his shoulder to wipe away a few hot tears. "D-Does the p-pain ever go away?"

Richard offered her a strong and hopeful smile, his eyes hard with determination.

"It only goes away if you will yourself to let go. Don't focus on the pain and it lessons. It gets hard at times, but…" he patted her shoulder and grinned slightly. "It's all good in the end, I promise!"

The girl raised an eyebrow, but managed a small smile.

"Thanks," she told him, staring hard into his eyes.

Richard blinked, returning the gaze.

"It's no bother to me. I'm sorry about your brother."

"I'm sorry about your parents."

He waved gently at her and began walking back towards the gate, confused as to why she had approached him of all people. Then he figured it out. He was a veteran of this place, and a young one at that. He came here often enough that the ground and the weather had become the words of his parents from Heaven. He came here so much that he knew every name of every person in the 27th row of the Cemetery. As he continued, he nodded in recognition to Ashley's grave before breaking into a soft jog before he began to lightly run towards the gate where he was sure Bruce would be soon enough to take him home.

Does the pain ever go away?

The girl's question echoed hard in Richard's head. He felt bad for lying to her, but what was he supposed to say? He didn't want her to suffer. He wanted to give her the hope that he hadn't been given.

But back at the grave, the girl grinned to herself and strode back to the grave that the boy had been visiting.

"John and Mary Grayson…" she read and her grin widened. "Ah, so you're a Grayson? That was much easier than I thought…"

She slipped her own phone from the hidden pocket in her dress and dialed a number she had memorized. A deep voice answered and her heart thudded happily in her chest.

"His last name is Grayson, son to the Flying Graysons," she said into the phone.

"Excellent," the man on the other line said, chuckling to himself. "That makes it much easier…"

Lord, it's more than just thirsty, I'm feeling inside. 'Cause these tears I've been crying have left me bone dry. I wish the bartender had a cure I could buy! But the truth is I'm only, drinkin' me lonely, tonight…

[1] Lyrics from the song 'Born to Fly' by Sara Evans. I think of it as Robin's song some days.

Alright, I just couldn't end it happy so I decided to end it so that you're left hanging. NO, THIS WILL NOT BE CONTINUED! If you want to use it for a chapter story, just ask if you can use it and as long as you mention that I wrote this part, I'm okay with it. Have a nice day, I suppose? Review?

-FrankandJoe3