I decided to continue this for swirlhearty23's birthday. A little, okay a lot, late, but better late than never! Enjoy Swirl and Happy Birthday!


Pt. II

"You didn't know?"

This just in-

"There must have been some sort of translation error then."

-Gotham City's very own billionaire, Bruce Wayne-

"He sustained more than a shot in the chest..."

-has been shot in the head during his business trip to...-

"I'm sorry Master Richard but..."

Along with other injuries, including several bullets to the chest-

"I'm so"

the attack was captured on this amateur video footage...-

" so sorry."

-doctors say that Wayne's condition is only getting worse...

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

"Master Richard...?"

And to update you on the condition of Gotham City's Bruce Wayne-

"Master Richard, the doctor said-"

-Wayne is expected to return home, for the first time, today-

"Really?"

-doctors are now telling us that after a tremendous recovery after...-

"Yes, I am quite certain."

-Bruce Wayne is on his way home.

"Let's go!"

-Our prayers are with him and the entire Wayne family.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Gotham

September , 3:56 EDT

Dick sat on the couch, his cloudy, tired blue eyes grazing over the TV. It was so good to be home, where your butler could make good food, where you could sleep in your own bed, where everything is normal. So normal, in fact, that the child almost didn't believe what was on the news. Bruce Wayne wasn't shot, he was home, he was fine. Well Dick wanted to believe that, more than anything. Bruce was Batman, the Dark Knight, the World's Greatest Detective, he was to good to be hit by a few bullets. Far too good.

Dick stood and drowsily walked over to the door as a quiet, almost timid, knock was heard on it. The house was quiet, Bruce needed his rest. Dick played his WayneBoy® with his headphones, and watched TV with the volume no more than 20, which was barely breaking audible. He didn't speak, and Alfred didn't reply. Meals were both cooked and eaten delicately, and the family moved about their business near noiselessly.

Even the door felt like it was holding back any creak that it might have given while Dick opened it. "Hey Wally. I thought you were headed out of town?" he asked as he welcomed the speedster in.

"Well I am, but I decided to stop by for a few minutes before we leave," Wally gently replied, "You doin' okay?" he asked his friend who was again sitting on the couch.

"I'm okay, quiet, but okay," he softly replied almost praying that Wally could see through his lie.

"Oh, Master Richard do you believe it is wise to have guests?" Alfred asked Dick after greeting Wally, who waved a silent hand to say hello to the Brit.

"It's fine Alfred," Dick said through immaturely clenched teeth, indicating that he wished to be alone. Once Alfred left to cook Wally the cheese-steak that the speedster requested, Dick asked him a question that had been bugging the child. "Wally," he hesitantly began, "am I family?"

"Like mine?" Wally replied, leaning his elbows on the back of the couch.

"Well, I mean do I feel like family to you?" Dick eagerly clarified.

"Sure, I guess. Why?" Wally had many theories as to why his friend was asking him such questions, but he maturely decided to wait, and let Dick speak for himself. And the child did.

"Well, Alfred said that Bruce needs a family right now, and that I'm not doing a very good job at being it for him. But, I just always thought that the whole father-son thing was mutual," he pieced together.

"Really? Why'd Alfred say that?"

"I don't know," standing, Dick began to pace around the low table that decorated the center of the room. "I just thought it was."

"Well introducing yourself as 'Richard Grayson, fostered son of Bruce Wayne' kinda' speaks differently," Wally tried. He was no expert on anything outside a lab, and he would never claim to be one, but he was going to help Dick through this time anyway he could.

"You think that that's what all this is about? The adoption was never finalized, so I'm legally not a Wayne, so I introduce myself as his fostered child," Dick's slow, mourning mind was hurting with all the sudden thoughts and ideas. It hadn't had any excitement in several weeks, and since Batman was in charge of initiating the team's orders, he couldn't get his adrenaline through his suit.

"I doubt it, but..," Wally paused. He could clearly see the logic behind his friend's introduction and he was pretty sure that that's not what this was about. "What do you think it is? I mean, what else did Alfred say?"

"Not much. It's just, if Bruce needs a me, then I want to be there. And if he needs a family, then I'll be that family," Dick's words were choked with sincerity. "But, what does that look like? How am I supposed to know what that looks like?"

Wally could feel Dick's confusion and uselessness oozing off him. Finally, Wally decided that his friend needed to be hugged, especially since the child had no one else to cry into. Standing, Wally wrapped his muscular arms tightly around Dick as he trembled. "It's okay dude, you'll figure it out. It'll be okay."

Dick felt Wally's brotherly-love for him in the secure bear-hug, and even though he was breaking the delicate lines of bromance, the tears were overwhelming, and Dick let them fall.

A few days later, Dick walked into the large, ghostly mansion after another mediocre day at school. Traveling up the steps to the elaborate Manor door only moments earlier, he was angered by the severe lack in warmest wishes and prayers for Bruce, only days after the millionaire had returned home.

People don't care anymore, he told himself as he dropped his back-pack on the floor. Sighing, he absorbed he raw, stale emotions of the Manor as he inhaled, and let all the feelings of want, desire, and hope escape him as he exhaled. The good, happy thoughts were forever lost in the labyrinth of the mansion.

"Welcome home Master Richard," the Butler greeted the child warmly. The old man was the only thing in the house that appeared to be living, aside from Dick's atrium.

Escaping to his room, Dick lazily collapsed on his large bed. He lay there, wishing that things could be normal, praying that he had enough strength to make that happen.

But until then, he would sleep. Maybe, just maybe, when he awoke Bruce would be better, happy, and the team could actually go out and do some co-op goodness. But the chances of that looked bleak, and only got worse every moment.

Sure he had gone to the cave and tried to act normal around his team, but really how could he? He wanted to stay there, even if he had nothing to do, he wanted to be with his very much alive and healthy friends. But his custom was was to return home often, and he had to maintain a strong, normal face.

Bruce was recovering, at an astounding rate if you asked the doctors, but Batman couldn't come quick enough for Dick.

The child thought. Was that really all that he cared about? All that he wanted; Batman? Did he even care for Bruce, or was it the cowl that the child really prayed for? Slipping off his bed, he knelt beside it, folding his hands before his cloudy blue eyes.

He sat there, in the position that his first father taught him, but it had been so long that Dick nearly forgot what to say.

Studying his bedspread intently, the child's soul was heavy burdened, and his heart pleaded for freedom from the antagonizing question; who did Richard Grayson really love, and whom did his care and affection truly belong? His head was speechless, despite his heart's desperate grasping for words.

Dick's body grew numb in the pose, as he felt his soul had. His head, heart, and soul were all still and breathless, awaiting to see what Dick was going to do. Even if he cared for Batman, it was merely a costume, a mask. Loving the man who had pity on a lost, senseless, and hurt boy was what he, as a human, should care about, not a mask.

It was wrong, and it had to change. And he had to change it. No one could change Dick, he knew that, thus he had the power to commit himself to to start the family bonds that Bruce so desperately needed. He was but a boy, so he would start small, but as to where to place his foot still alluded him.

Then dinner came.

Dinner, like how it had been for weeks, was quiet as Dick and Alfred ate in somber silence.

"Master Richard, I've heard that your class in going on a scientific excursion tomorrow," the Brit said between bites.

"Yeah, we're going to some aquarium for biology," Dick quickly explained, his deep thought actually making him say more than he would have.

After a few minutes, Alfred began again, "And, like most educational excursions, doesn't one require a parent's signature in order to attend such activities?"

…...

After dinner and before bed, Dick made his way toward Bruce's room, where the man of the house would be.

"Hello?" he hesitantly asked after timidly knocking on Bruce's solid wood door.

"Hey kid," Bruce wearily said, his voice weak and hoarse.

"Am I disturbing you?" the child asked, forcing a nervous swallow.

"No, not at all," Bruce tried to sit up, but the wound in his chest still hurt him though, and Dick easily forced him back down. "So, what's up?" the man coughed.

Dick was almost jerked to tears while listening to Bruce's cough. This was the first time that the child had visited his father since they returned home, and he wished that he had done it far sooner, for Bruce's sake.

"Don't worry, I'm not contagious." Bruce quipped, mustering a weak smile at his child's expression.

"Um, I need you to sign this, i-it's for school," Dick shoved the paper forward. He watched the dim glow from Bruce's eyes drop into complete sadness.

"Sure," Bruce said, somehow having the strength not to show that he was too hurt.

Dick handed him a pen, pointed out where the signature should be placed, then watched Bruce write it. "Thanks dad," he blurted as he turned to walk out. It wasn't disrespectful, but it did escape his lips.

Dick froze there, with his back turned on his father, who was tearing up at the title. Turning, Dick collapsed into Bruce's large arm, tears rolling down both of their cheeks.

"You're welcome..."