Hey. Sorry, I'm half on a hiatus. Anyway, if you're reading this, please note that 'Matt' isn't an OC. I read… somewhere that I cannot think the name of… that on a movie of a sort, a Matt Grayson was mentioned. Or maybe it wasn't Matt? Oh well. If there is no Matt Grayson mention in any movie, then he's my OC. I don't really give a rat's ass. All I know that Stride's Mystery Flavor is delicious!

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the YJ cast, and I don't think I own Matt…I could be wrong though… All I own is the name up to the… er… left upper corner of your screen? Yeah, FrankandJoe3 is mine, copyrighted and everything! You take it, I sue. No joke.

The robot pulled its mechanical fist back and drove it hard into Richard's stomach. Richard gasped, screwing up his blue eyes in pain as he dropped to his knees. His sunglasses fell to the concrete and he bent over, hugging himself in agony. The robot raised its might fist to deliver the final blow and Richard tensed up, waiting for the familiar feel of unconsciousness to take him over. He never felt it though. Instead, the alarm that marked the end of the training simulation sounded and the familiar hiss that accompanied it as the backdrop faded. Richard squinted one eye to look up at the robot, just in case. To his relief, it was bent in half, its arms dangling uselessly near its feet.

"Dick! What the Hell was that?" Bruce's unpleased tone thundered through the room.

Richard inhaled sharply as he forced himself to his feet, still tightly hugging his stomach. It throbbed worse every time he took a breath, but it stung when he held his breath. It felt better to hold his breath though, so he kept holding it until he couldn't stand it.

"I… didn't see," he winced at how bad it hurt to speak, "it."

Bruce's expression softened a little at the state Richard was in, but he still wasn't pleased.

"That's no excuse. You've done this simulation a million times as Robin successfully. What's the difference?"

He knelt down in his civvies as Richard had branded them and picked up the sunglasses, frowning at the jagged crack that ran through the left lens. He pocketed them before attempting to meet his ward's eyes. Richard's eyes were still closed tightly and his breath was labored, but he seemed to be trying to fight off how bad he really felt. He gritted his perfect white teeth roughly.

"M-mask… utility belt… bulletproof costume?" he offered.

The second his lips closed, it was obvious that his teeth dug into his bottom lip, praying to soften the pain that nearly paralyzed his body with its effects. Bruce's eyebrows furrowed a tinge of guilt ran through him, but it faded fast. He set a hand to the ebony's shoulder, only to get a sharp flinch in response. He dropped his hand back to his side.

"For a mask, you had your sunglasses, and you always have your utility belt. That's not a good excuse either," he argued.

Richard took a deep breath, shaking his head slowly at some thought that passed through his mind.

"You said… I had to stay… in cover. So I couldn't use the-…" Richard growled from deep in his throat, scrunching up his nose, "utility belt. And you try fighting… in these pants."

Bruce's eyes darted from the pained face to the dark pair of mildly skinny jeans that were loose enough to keep circulation going in his legs but tight enough so they framed every muscle perfectly.

"I told you to put on shorts," he retorted simply.

Richard opened his eyes, glaring at Bruce with an 'Are-You-Stupid?' glance.

"In this weather?" he cried, inhaling sharply as the wave of pain hit him hard.

He wondered what the robot could've hit that hurt so bad, but he didn't really care. Right now, he just wanted to put some serious ice on it before it started to bruise to avoid that awkward conversation with Wally who would probably first suspect a sexual situation being the perv he was. He waited for Bruce to give his 'I-Give-Up, I'm-Not-Discussing-This' face and walk from the room, but instead, he got a face he had only seen on times when he had a knife through his chest or was half-dead on the floor. It was Bruce's sympathetic and worried fast, complete with furrowed eyebrows, troubled eyes and a hesitant frown. A soft sigh sounded.

"Why don't we go upstairs and make sure you're okay?" he offered, his voice cautious and careful as if caring was something new to him.

Richard's eyes opened from the painful squints to a surprised and wide look. He looked to the right and left him to make sure it was him Bruce was talking to. When he realized that Bruce was actually showing concern over his failure, a soft smile came to his lips and he nodded, cautiously staggering towards the stairs. A hand softly caught his arm, freezing him where he stood.

"You're in no condition. I don't want you to sprain or break anything," he scolded.

Richard's eyebrows furrowed, but the look of confusion quickly snapped to a look of fear as he was swept off his feet and held like a newborn baby or a newlywed bride with a hand supporting his back and one supporting his knees. He winced and was sure that the simulation robot had accidentally given him something a little worse than a bruise. As Bruce started up the stairs, Richard had gotten used to being held and a smile flitted over his lips again. He closed his blue eyes for a moment and rested his head against Bruce's nicest work shirt, but when his consciousness caught up with him, he lifted his head again and tried to avert his eyes and focus on the pain again.

XxXxX

Richard's head snapped up at the knock he heard on his door, but he calmed as he quickly recognized Alfred's signature tap.

"Come in," he called, screwing up his eyes tight.

The pain had numbed under the ice, but this was the 20 minutes without ice part and it stung something awful at the moment. His head fell to the side so it was facing the door, a smile coming over his lips as he recognized his favorite old man.

"Hello Master Richard," Alfred nodded his head in greeting.

"Hey," Richard returned the greeting, his eyes flying to the envelope in Alfred's hands. "What's that?"

Alfred held it out towards the boy he had grown to consider his grandson.

"A letter for you. It came in the mail this morning. I meant to get it to you earlier, but you were off with Master Wallace before I could," he admitted.

Richard gently grabbed the envelope in his pale hands and pulled it towards himself.

"Thanks," he dismissed Alfred politely.

Alfred took the hint. He bowed his head and ducked out of the room, easing it closed behind him. Once he was gone, Richard set the ice back over his chest, reading the names on the back of the envelope. He saw his own name, written in a familiar spidery style in the center. It was the name in the upper left corner that caused a chill to run down his back: Matt Grayson. Richard had forgotten that name, and for a good reason to. With it came memories he had once been proud of, but now only caused him pain.

"Took you long enough bro," he mouthed to himself, easing open the envelope, pulling out the paper that came with it.

The letter was long with that same spidery handwriting on it. The writing was a small font and it consumed all of the white on the paper, except for a small doodle in the upper right corner which looked kinda like an elephant or an alien with huge bulgy eyes. Inside his chest, Richard's heart ached as the name echoed through his mind.

Matt… It's been 6 years. You better have something pretty damn important to tell me he thought to himself before his eyes began to read.

Dear Dick,

Hey little bro! Do you remember me? Man, it's been FOREVER since I saw you. Last time, you were five and you refused to take off little Anna Cheney's one piece swimsuit because you said it made you feel like one of us. How's the circus been going? Last I heard, mom and dad recruited you and you learned some big fancy trick that wowed the crowds. I wanted to come see you two years ago, but for some reason, I couldn't find where Haley's Circus was gonna be next. And for some other odd reason, it said the circus closed. Did you guys move to a new circus or something? The address you're at is definitely not the one it used to be. Did mom and dad finally ship you off to a military school like they always threatened? Just kidding, but seriously, what's up with the new address?

Richard's eyes widened and his lips parted in the closest thing he could manage to his jaw dropping. Tears threatened to obscure his vision, but he blinked them away.

"Oh God… he doesn't know that mom and dad… and the circus… or Bruce…" the tears came back with a vengeance.

The defenses in his head held pretty strong but one tear managed to escape, slipping down the right side of his face to the pillow beneath his head. With a deep breath, he kept reading.

It took me forever to find you in anything. I finally just went to the police in desperation and they gave me this address. Did you know mom and dad aren't in the phone book anymore? You better tell dad to work on that. I mean, it'll take him a couple years with his 'technical genius', but it'd help people like me. I'm guessing that you guys moved, and to a pretty nice place too! I used Google Street View to look at the house and… well, excuse me, but DAMN. Nice house bro! It's huge! How did you guys afford it? Did dad suddenly when the lottery or did mom divorce him and marry a rich guy like I told her she needed to? Kidding, sorry about that.

The more Richard read, the more tears managed to slip past the barrier. Was Matt really that stupid? How could he not have run across that article that announced the Flying Graysons' leaders dead and him being adopted? How could he believe that the Graysons lived in a home with a gate that read 'BW'? He didn't ever remember Matt being that thick, but his memory around the time when Matt left was pretty fuzzy. He slowed his breath, trying to calm down, but it was hard.

Anyway, I was chilling at home with my girlfriend, F.J., [1] when I found a picture of us and I realized how much I missed you and I want to see how much you've grown up. I hope you look like me. If you do, you probably have all the ladies crawling on you, right? Unless you're gay, which I guess I could understand… I got to thinking, and I… would it be okay if I came for a visit? It wouldn't be long, just a day or two to catch up. We can talk, hang out, maybe head on down to that little pizza shop you used to love growing up? You know, whatever you want to do. Write me back as soon as you get this. Well, I guess I'll hear from you soon.

With Love,
Matt G.

Richard's eyes reread the letter, waiting to see a 'Just kidding; I know everyone's dead and your life sucks', but he never saw one. His brother seemed oblivious to everything his youngest brother had spent four years trying to get over. With a sigh, he let go of the letter and let it fall to his side before wiping the tears from his eyes with the back of his hand. His brother's words angrily pounced about in his head, and he didn't know how to reply. He closed his eyes tight, pressing the icepack deeper into his stomach to try to numb the dread it started to unleash.

What am I gonna tell him? "Hey bro, yeah, mom and dad were murdered and I was adopted by a multi-millionaire! Come on down and let's catch up!" Yeah, that'll work out just fine… Richard frowned to himself and forced himself out of the bed.

He staggered weakly to his writing desk where he pulled a new sheet of notebook paper from one of the drawers. He took a pen from the bucket he had on his dresser and pressed it to the paper, wiping at his teary eyes with the back of his hand again.

"Get a hold of yourself Grayson. It's just a letter from your brother. Why are you crying? Man up!" he yelled at himself beneath his breath.

He bit hard on his lip and set his brother's letter beside his, trying to think of the proper way to phrase everything.

Dear Matt, he wrote in his neatest print, tapping his pen against his lip blindly.

He frowned harder if it was possible and sighed slowly, making sure to be careful as to not hurt his chest. A slight idea came to mind, but it hurt his heart though.

"Maybe Matt doesn't need to know everything right now. We can talk about it when we catch up," he decided, putting the pen back to the paper.

It's been a long time. I'd love to see you again. I have so much to tell you when we get together. There's a reason that we're not in the phone book and that the circus isn't listed and that I'm living in this fancy house, and you definitely won't believe it. Leave 'F.J.' at home though. I want it to be just you and me this weekend. I'll have to clear it with Bruce, my 'warden' if you would, but I'm sure he wouldn't mind since you're family. So, I guess I'll see you when I do.

Love,

Richard J.G.

He put Bruce's number in the lower left hand corner, his heart pounding in his chest. He prayed desperately that when Matt called that it'd be him to pick up the phone and not Bruce or Alfred. Alfred would mess everything up with a, "Master Richard isn't here at the moment" and Bruce would probably end up cussing him out for calling in the first place. It looked like his plans with Wally for the weekend would be put on hold. He set a hand to his forehead.

Damnit. I was looking forward to running through Wal-Mart in my Robin costume with KF, using Wal-Mart as our paintball war grounds… I'm sure he won't mind going another week without getting arrested though.

And with that, he folded the piece of paper and slipped it into the envelope and wrote his address in the corner and copied Matt's address from the original envelope. He blinked in surprise at how close Matt lived. He was in New York City, less than 25 miles east of Gotham. All this time, he lived about 12 minutes from his brother, if he was the one driving at least. If Bruce was driving, it would be about 5 minutes if he didn't care about property damage and attempted murder on every civilian passing through the street. Just thought made him forget about the couple tears he shed over the letter and his mind faded to the thought of Bruce's erratic driving.

[1] Couldn't resist (: I have to watch over my stories somehow, don't I?

Anyway, yeah. I know Bruce was out of character with the cruelness near the beginning and Richard wouldn't give in to a single blow to the gut, even if it almost killed him, but I had to include the front part on a dare from my bestie. It was from one of the 'Horror Land' by R.L. Stine books and I figured I could fit it in. So… uh… should I finish this? I had on my list of stories to write, "Something with Matt Grayson", so I figured I'd check it off before my hiatus… So um, review?

-F.J. ;)