I wrote another one! Gosh I haven't posted in forever...but don't worry people , I'm still alive and writing :)

This is just a one shot I started writing New Years night, right at the beginning of 2014 to start off my year. It's probably one of the saddest things I've written, but I just love writing 10 year old Dicky Bird so much!

Thanks to BlazingRagnarok for Betaing again! I'd be lost in typos without you.

Rated T: For swearing, I dub the villain the Bandanaed douche and he has a potty mouth. Not my fault. Blame him.

italics=flash back

Disclaimer: Santa didn't give me the rights to Young Justice for Christmas...he gave me the flu...he's not getting any cookies and milk next year...

When you raise a child, you have to be prepared to answer questions. Lots of questions. Children are inquisitive creatures. They must know how the world works and why. Why is the sky blue and the grass green? Why does pain hurt and what about a kiss can make it all feel better?

But there are certain questions that every parent and guardian dread. They aren't the questions that can be prepared for beforehand or worked around. They're asked out of the blue and always catch you off guard, making you wonder how such a small child could make you question even your very existence.

So when Dick wandered into my room at two in the morning, tears leaking out of his bright blue eyes, even I, the world's greatest detective, couldn't have guessed what kind of question was in store for me this time.

"Bwuuuce!" he cried, slurring my name the way he only did when he was truly scared. My heart melted instantly. I opened the blankets and allowed him to crawl into my bed where he instantly tucked himself into my chest and cuddled me close.

Closing the covers and wrapping my arms around the shaking figure, I asked the all-important question, "What's wrong chum?"

At first there was silence. Then, he slowly lifted his head up from my chest, found my eyes with his own and asked, "Why do people kill?"

There it was, the impossible question. A query on human nature so great it's been thought on for centuries by the greatest minds of our time, and here I am, expected to answer it at two in the morning for a ten year old child.

I should have expected a question like this after the day we'd had. My mind flashed back to the events of that morning. To the events not fought through by Batman and Robin, but experienced by Bruce Wayne and Richard Grayson. It all started during any normal trip to the city bank…

"Bruce, Bruce, why do we need to go to the bank? Don't you already have enough money?" Dick asked as he playfully cartwheeled circles around me on our way into the bank.

I couldn't help but roll my eyes at the innocence of the question before answering. "I need to talk to them about rerouting funds from my account into a business account that Lucius can use for an upcoming project." I really needed to teach the kid about banking and business if he was going to be the ward to the head of Wayne Enterprises.

"That sounds boring," Dick whined, sticking his tongue out at me from the middle of a handstand, "why do I have to come along?"

"Because Alfred insisted some fresh air would do us some good. I personally think he just needed some peace and quiet after a week of shooing you off all of the chandeliers and preventing you from sliding down the banisters." I could see Dick visibly smirk at the word "preventing." Apparently while I was at work, Alfred had his hands full.

We entered the marble interior of the bank to be greeted by the usual uptight bank cleanliness. Almost like a hospital, but without the smell. The bank was only moderately busy with a couple people making transactions while others loitered around waiting to be helped. I strolled over to the first available teller window, Dick at my heels making two steps for every one of mine. When I reached the window, Dick quickly plucked a sucker out of the bowl on the counter top and bounded away before I could react, probably headed off to explore the place from head to toe for anything remotely fun. I turned my thoughts away from him to pay attention to the low drone of the teller as we began going through the dull process of fund transferal. We had just gotten to the exciting part where I had to sign my one hundredth form, when a huge explosion rocked the whole building. A wall to my left completely shattered inward, sending rock shards and debris flying everywhere. People screamed and ran for cover on the opposite side of the bank as through the hole stepped three men in black ski masks followed by one with a red bandana tied around his mouth. All four men were holding guns.

The guy with the red bandana, the leader by the looks of it, stepped forward and waving his gun threateningly in the air yelled out, "Okay yah bunch of tight assed money grubbers, this is a hold up. Everyone lay on the ground nice and pretty-like and put your hands on the back of your head were I can see them. I don't want no funny business, so if you guys just shut up and do what I say, you should be able to get out of this mostly unharmed. Mostly." The ski-masked cronies behind him started chuckling disturbingly as the last line.

Not wanting to cause any trouble, I did as they said and slowly lowered myself to the floor, all the while scanning the bank for signs of Dick's location. I finally found him on the opposite side of the room from the explosion, helping an elderly lady out of her wheel chair and on to the floor. I breathed a sigh of relief that he was unharmed, but I quickly noticed the cold hard look in his eyes. A look I had seen countless times during my nightly escapades with Robin was now being directed at the bank robbers. Any sign of the happy innocence seen on him only moments before had instantly vanished from his face.

As soon as he looked my way and his eyes made contact with my own, we instantly understood our predicament. We would sit through this robbery as Bruce Wayne and Dick Grayson, the civilians. No tights, no gadgets, and no heroic rescues. His eyes asked me whether there was anything we could do. Any stunts or daring deeds we could pull to save the day. But my eyes answered that no, the only useful thing we could do now is stay quiet and hope that the police would arrive soon. I could almost hear him scoff from across the room. Batman and Robin waiting to be saved by the Police? I didn't like it any more than he did, but sometimes doing nothing was the best course of action.

The man with the bandana then strolled cockily over to the nearest teller stall, stuck his head over the counter, and took a look at the bank teller probably cowering bellow it. I could see a smirk form in the robber's eyes before he reached down with one arm and pulled up a struggling female bank teller by the scruff of her suit. She clutched at the arm that grabbed her, gasping for breath as the grip on her suit cut off precious air to her lungs. She looked to be in her mid-twenties with long, flowing blond hair and a fairly busty frame. The type of girl I would have been expected to hit on to keep up my persona as a millionaire playboy. But right now, her beauty was working against her as the robber pulled her over the counter with a vicious tug that nearly choked the life out of her and sent her struggling even harder against the hand that held her.

"Well ain't you a pretty penny," said the robber, holding the struggling teller closer to his bandanaed face. She let out a squeak and tried to pull away, fear evident in her eyes. From across the room I could see Dick attempting to burn a hole in the man's head with his own eyes. I knew he would give anything to jump at him and deliver the wallop of a life time. I wanted to do the same myself.

The urge only got stronger when the robber threw the girl over to his partners and ordered them to put a gun to her head. He then yelled out so the whole bank could hear, "See this girly? If I don't see one hundred grand in cash in front of me in ten minutes time, she getting a bullet in that pretty little head of hers, yah hear?"

There was stunned silence for a moment while the whole bank stared at the scene in disbelief. By now, streams of tears had started to slide down the poor teller's face. The sound of them dripping one by one onto the floor was the only sound to be heard until the robber smacked her in the face with the butt of his gun and yelled out, "I said yah hear me? Now you only got 9 minutes to deliver my one grand. Better make it snappy, I don't know how long blondie here is gonna hold out."

There was suddenly a mad scramble behind the bank counter as the rest of the tellers tried to pull together all the cash they could get their hands on. Contrary to what most people usually imagine, banks don't tend to have huge amounts of cash on them at a time. Especially not Gotham banks that are robbed every other week.

As the robbers were distracted watching the teller's mad dash for money, I slowly began sliding closer to them and their hostage. If an opportunity arose, I wanted to be close enough to snatch her away or tackle one of the men to the ground. Even if I was stuck as a civilian, I still needed to help in any way I could.

When I was about ten feet away, one of the goons noticed me and shouted out, "Oi, boss man! That one just moved! I saw him!" I stopped moving and remained still on the ground, as the "boss man's" eyes turned in my direction. Luckily that was the exact moment the tellers returned, laden with bags of cash. The robbers turned their attention back to the load of money now being set in front of them. Though the tellers looked tired, afraid, and covered in sweat, they had managed to gather up the ten grand in cash within the given time limit. The whole bank gave sigh of relief as they hoped the robbers would just take their money and leave them in peace.

"Well what do we have here," the leader said, strolling around the bags of money at his feet, "You suit monkeys were actually able to do something right for once. You're probably thinking I'm just gonna return the girl, take my winnings, and leave you all nice and quiet like. But then, you wouldn't have learned a damn thing. You all just go back to your nice hoity toity lives where money is continuously shoved up your ass. No, no, no, I think I need to leave you all a little present to remember me by." And with that he turned around and before we could even blink, fire a shot straight at the girl, hitting her right in the chest. Her eyes went wide for a split second before she fell to the ground with a thud and a scarlet pool of blood began forming underneath her body.

In a flash I jumped at the murderer and wrestled the gun from his hands, throwing it several yards away. At the same time, Dick had thrown himself at the feet of the cronies, knocking them all down, before smacking away their guns and giving them each a good kick in the head for good measure. I would lecture him later about doing stunts like that in public.

The Bandanaed man, seeing his goons defeated and his weapon lost, turned tail and ran back through the hole he had initially created. I would have followed, but there were more pressing matters to attend to. I walked over to where Dick was on the ground, now cradling the bleeding women in his little arms. There was nothing more to be done for her. She had already lost a lot of blood, and no type of medical attention would have been able to save her in time. All we could do was watch as the light slowly left her eyes, and her body stilled forever, tears still streaming down the face that would move no more.

A single tear dropped down on to her body from the face above. Dick began to cry, deep sobs racked his entire frame as he still clutched her unmoving body to his now bloodstained chest. While I had seen death countless times before, Dick had only seen it up close and personal once. At the death of his parents. Now it was like I was watching it all over again, a helpless eight year old boy crying over his broken parents. Trying to hug life into the bloodied bodies.

After I couple minutes the police and paramedics finally arrived. I carefully pulled Dick off of the body and away from the scene. He latched onto my chest and cried silently into my shirt as I carried him out of the bank. Though the ordeal was over, I knew for him it would never truly end.

So here I am at two in the morning, staring into the tear stained face of the child in my arms, with one great question hanging over my heads. Why do people kill?

I took my time to answer it, not knowing if I truly knew the answer myself. It was a question with no known right answer, only vague ideas of understanding. I took a deep breath, and began. "Some people are lacking in things that others have. Things necessary for normal life and thinking. If it was a perfect world, everyone would have a loving family to take care of them and a place to call home. Through these, we learn the meaning of caring, through these we learn the importance of a life. But not everyone has these things. Some people grow up in a world without a home, without a family, and without love. To them, life doesn't carry the same meaning as it does for you and me. To them, life is just another thing, another thing that can be easily taken away. They grow jealous of the love and warmth they see around them, the love they believe can never be theirs. In their jealously they feel lonely. They decide they don't want to be the only ones to feel their pain. So they spread the pain, they spread it like a virus. They take away lives, leaving sadness and loneliness in their place. They kill and they kill and they kill, thinking somehow it will fill the hole in their heart. Not realizing that you can't fill a hole by only creating more."

At this point a lump formed in my throat, preventing me from continuing. When I stopped, Dick spoke up for the first time since asking the question. His voice just barely a whisper, he said "But why can't we just share the love? There's plenty to go around. I lost my family and my home, but you just replaced it. Now you're my family and Alfred's my family and this is my home." Here he paused for a second as if in thought before continuing, "I think I know now what Batman and Robin are for. We stop the killing and we stop the crime so that no more holes can be created. In a way, we spread love and warmth and tell Gotham that it's not alone. It's never alone. Because it's our family too."

With those final words, Dick cuddled back up to my chest and fell asleep, his question finally answered. But in all truth I realized, as I wrapped my arms around him and began drifting off to sleep myself, he was the one who taught me. He taught me again what it means to be a family.

R and R! That means Relax and Review right? or is it Roller skate and Review...either way...you know the drill ;)