Disclaimer: the Batman Universe is owned by DC Comics

Rated T for violence and language

The moment Richard Grayson witnessed his parents brutal deaths, it caused a pain in his heart that would never truly go away. Dick was in a trance, not fully believing what had just happened. The world had stopped, peopled stilled, he grew numb. As if waking from a dream, Dick suddenly scrambled downwards to his parents lifeless contorting bodies. He winced when noticing body parts bending in ways not even Leonardo, their circus contortionist, could achieve. His heart knew what his mind was struggling to come to grips with. No, his parents couldn't really be dead. They've preformed this trick hundreds of times, his parents were healthy and good people, he was still a child- his parents couldn't be dead!

He stared at the lifeless bodies, hoping some twitch of life would erupt through their eyes but none were seen. Dick suddenly felt a tug from behind him and met the eyes of a distraught Mr. Haly, frantically shaking his head beckoning Dick to look away from the scene. Dick became more numb and deaf, letting himself get ushered away from his guardians and into a back room where he was greeted by Zara's own frantic gestures. She drew him into a suffocating hug, gushing tears and reassurances.

"My poor baby!" Zara exclaimed while finally loosening herself from Dick so he could take in a sharp intake of air. She stared at the wide-eyed boy that was looking into darkness, devoid of any feeling. He knew who was around him, what had happened, but had somehow cut himself off from the hurt. He was like a zombie or a robot, completely disconnected from his own movements and words. He knew Zara was taking a cloth and cleaning up the blood that had seeped into his tights at the knees, but what she was saying was completely lost. It was as if she was speaking a different language.

Her frantic babble was joined in by numerous other circus employee's, crushing Dick with more sorrowful embraces and tears. He allowed himself to be dragged from one person to another as they shared his grief.

~/~

While his circus family was busy attending to the shell-shocked child, Bruce Wayne was still implanted at his seat, staring at the tarp that covered the two parents of the young boy. He as well as the other spectators watched in horror as the unreal scene played out in front of them. In the end all were powerless, forced to watch as the two bodies plummeted towards their death. The crowd had dispersed in panic, running to either towards the two mangled bodies or out of the tent as fast as they could. Bruce Wayne was the only attendee to sit there in silence, as his own parents deaths' flashed before his eyes.

He recounted the look on their faces when the last piece of life drifted from their brow. The last gasping breathes his father made to Bruce, while choking on his own bile and blood. The powerless feeling washed over him again, stripping him of reality and putting him in the pit of his nightmares.

It was the sirens that finally snapped Bruce out of his daze, allowing him to follow the scene before him. Officer Randal ran beside Officer Fritz while they were led to the blood stained tarp. Paramedics trailed behind them bringing out stretchers and from what appeared to be body bags. Yellow tape had also been wrapped around the exit, keeping curious eyes outside.

Bruce grimaced as he finally rose from his seat, the only sole occupant left, and wandered down, quietly slipping out unseen. He was once again greeted by panic and disorder while quests complained about getting their money back and letting out loud sobs while muttering how they'll be haunted with nightmares for the rest of their life. A bit frustrated he worked his way through the crowd, gently pushing people to the side if they so happened to be in his way, and finally was able to locate Mr. Haly himself.

The look on this man resembled one of a corpse. His eyes had somehow sunken in, adding at least 10 years to his looks, and his mouth was slightly open giving short rapid breathes of anxiety. Bruce's eyes narrowed causing his lips to thin out while confronting the man.

"I'm terribly sorry for this horrific loss," His voice was low and deep, "If there is anything I can do, please don't hesitate to ask." Mr. Haly snapped up, looking up and down at the young man that confronted him.

"B-Bruce Wayne correct?" He asked. After a short nod in confirmation he continued, "Thank you for the condolences, as you can see we're in a bit of a disaster at the moment so if you are inquiring about a refund-"

"No, no." Bruce interrupted. "You misunderstood me, I have no desire for minimal services such as that. What you experienced here is a tragedy, and I want to expand my resources to you and your employees here. If anyone needs any counseling, support, community, anything of the sort, I want to be of service." Upon making a quick look around he continued, "What will happen to the boy?".

Realization struck Mr. Haly at the heart. The boy. His boy. Mary and John's boy. What was going to happen to his little imp? Surely they wouldn't let the lad travel around the circus without a legal guardian, but he had no other family- no other relatives that could take him in. His parents never got around to making a will, that he knew of at least, so they couldn't even have left the child into his care. Closing his eyes in frustration, trying with all his might to not cry right there at the spot he shock his head.

"I have no idea what they'll do with him." Was his grave answer.

As if on cue a middle aged blonde woman came storming in on the scene, appalled by the type of commotion that was still taking place. She grabbed an officer on her right and ordered him to escort her to the owner of this flea bitten, two bit excuse for a form of entertainment. Miss Hare was never the outdoorsy type, she liked to have clean fun that included attending orchestral performances at the Gotham Performing Arts and attend art shows, especially the ones that were hosted in Central City.

As she made long strides in her purple heels, not suited at all for the muddy ground that surrounded the circus site, the officer she abducted pointed to a short chubby man standing directly across from the famous and young Bruce Wayne.

As she made her way over to the two men, she ran her fingers through her rustled hair, trying to make sure each strand was in perfect place. Her Saturday night might not be ruined afterall, she mused. Perhaps after she took care of the boy, should could take care of the man…

"Mr. Wayne, I'm quite surprised to see you here." She smiled while redirecting her focus to the elder man. "My name is Samantha Hare, I'm here to attain," she glanced at her clipboard slightly, "a Mr. Richard Grayson. He is now under the custody of Child Protective Services and must be escorted off the premises as soon as possible. He is now a ward of the state, and if you try to detain him from me", she motioned to the officer who looked like he rather be somewhere else, "there will be legal consequences. I'm hoping there won't be any problems, so both you and I can handle this as soon as possible." Mr. Haly gave the woman a worried gaze while glancing slightly at the officer on standby.

"Ms. Hare, please, the boy is traumatized and frightened. He needs to be here with the rest of his family while he comes to grip with this tragedy. I understand your means of collecting him as soon as possible, but is there any way to-"

"No there is not, Mr. Haly", Samantha countered. "Like I said before, any resistance you show can have legal repercussions, please direct me to where the boy is and we'll get out of your way." It took Bruce all his strength to not bite back a sly remark at the woman standing in front of him, he desperately wanted to though.

"I…I understand Ma'am." Mr. Haly said, defeated. He gave an apologetic look to Bruce and without another word led the woman and police officer to a small tent a couple yards down.

Bruce stayed in his spot, contemplating what sort of action he should take in all this. It wasn't everyday he'd been a witness to a horrific death as Bruce Wayne. Batman, sure, but not as a civilian. It was a strange and foreign feeling, without his suit of armor it was making him feel vulnerable. He wanted to help the people who lost tonight but he was unsure how to go about it. Swinging around money would help some of the problems, at least it would provide revenue for the circus to last a few months, but what about the boy? The one person who lost the most in all this and he was the least in control.

Images of the boy surged through Bruce's mind, with the horrific expression of shock plastered on his face. The images came in as waves, first shock, hopelessness, and grief. He noted that he didn't see the boy cry out or scream when he approached his parents mangled bodies but acted as if in a trance. Those who have not experienced true tragedy might have thought this action was extremely peculiar, but to Bruce it was only all too familiar.

Movement coming from the tent brought Bruce's attention back to the present as he watched the woman practically dragging a still immobile boy towards the exit to the campsite. In one of her hands she held a suitcase, in the other the wrist of the boy barely keeping up, probably barely registering what was going on.

The eyes that stared blankly forward were those of the dead. It wasn't two that died tonight, it was three.

~/~

Samantha Hare gave a worried expression at the boy who sat in her backseat. Ever since she went and collected this Grayson kid, he hadn't uttered a word. Not in protest, not in grief. Usually there would have been some sort of rebellion to stay at his home, but he completely cooperated. Oh well, made her job easier at least.

The ride to the Juvenile Detention center was silent. Dick continued to aim his gaze forward, as if studying the car seat pattern. By the time Samantha parked by a giant old gray building, it was close to 11 o'clock. Two hours since the fall.

Samantha scurried to the trunk and grabbed the old leather suitcase from the back before opening the door for the silent Grayson. She was thankful that the circus folk put together a couple of his items, at least she didn't have to touch his stuff. She gave out a annoyed huff when the boy remained seated and roughly grabbed his wrist dragging him out of her car.

Her shoes made a noticeable tap tap tap on the hard cement floor while she lead Grayson to the warden's office. Soon, she thought to herself, I'll be able to go home and get into that goddamn bubble bath I was supposed to be in two hours ago. Once she reached the only light encased room, she was greeted by a balding latino descended man, staring intently at a few pages in front of him.

"Why Ms. Hare," he began, "I assume this is the boy? How are you doing son?" he said kindly. Dick remained staring at the floor, unfazed by the new man's attempt for friendliness.

"Mr. Collins, here is the needed paperwork for Richard Grayson's stay here until the necessary opening at the group home become available." Upon giving him several forms she presented a half-hearted smile to the boy. "Richard," she said at an attempt to sound concerned, "this is the Gotham's Juvenile Detention Center at Westpoint. You didn't do anything wrong, but there just isn't enough beds at the group home to house you right now. You'll be staying here until a space opens up. This man is Hernandez Collins and he'll be here if you need any help adjusting to this facility. Do you have any questions for me?" She leaned down and gently placed a reassuring hand on the boys shoulder while he steadily looked up at her.

"Unde sunt ei?" "Where are they", Dick whispered. For the first time sending a piercing gaze into the woman that stood before him. His eyebrows forward, he let his lips form a sort of snarl that immediately recoiled the attempt for kindness on his shoulder.

"Vreau să-i ... părinții mei văd. Unde sunt ei?" "I want to see them...my parents. Where are they?" he said frantically. It was as if a suffocating fog had finally been lifted from his eyes. Dick staggered backwards and looked back and forth between the warden and social worker, not sure which one to display his obvious anger to.

"Kid, speak English! I have no idea what you're saying," the woman said while retreating next to the warden. "Look, just calm down we'll figure this out alright?". Samantha dared to approach him but Dick threw his arms up defensively, as if shielding himself from the woman's gaze.

"Vreau să mă întorc! Du-mă înapoi la Pop!" "I want to go back! Take me back to Pop!" Dick yelled. His body was shaking in fear, reality finally sinking in to the boy. The warden looked over and shakily said, "Richard, ¿hablas español?" "Richard, do you speak Spanish?" in hopes there was a more common tongue the boy could talk to him in. Richard shook his head frantically, taking long staggered breathes while he slumped down on the floor.

"Du-mă înapoi" "Take me back", he yelled. "Vreau să mă întorc!" "I want to go back!" his hands shot up to his face, encasing his tear stained cheeks. He let out a deep agonizing moan while beginning to rock back and forth. "Te rog, ia-mă acasă!" "Please, just take me home!" Dick continued to mumble bits of pieces of Romanian as the warden quickly called the nurse.

"Sheila, we need a sedative stat! The new boy is freaking out over here, I think he's beginning to hyperventilate." Within two minutes a young woman rushed through the warden's door, and hobbled over towards the screaming child.

Blackness soon took over Dick's mind, finally allowing the day to end.