Voices faded into a muffled combination of words; all sounding the same but so foreign to Dick Grayson's ears. The world slowed while his mind whirled a million miles an hour. Cops bustled in the cramped cracking building, their loud footsteps echoing to the point Dick was sure it would shatter the concrete walls. Four A.M. was the busiest time of the day in Bludhaven, which meant cranky officers who were paid half what cops in Gotham were paid and detectives wearing crumbs on their shirts and bored expression.

Dick sat in his old cushioned chair, leaning heavily into the back that springs dug through his shirt to poke irritably at his shoulder. Bludhaven Weekly was gripped in his sweaty palms. The title's small print shown as large and brightly as the computer at the Batcave. Yesterdays title bore the words: "Nightwing saves local bank funds, but how long can we rely on local hero?"

It should have warned, prepared him for something like this. His mother had always told him bad luck is always followed by more bad luck and problems, that it is testing your strength. He knew bad news should have been added to that list.

BLUDHAVEN WEEKLY

It has been revealed that Millionaire, Bruce Wayne, of Gotham has officially adopted his ward, Tim Drake, now known as Tim Wayne. The legal papers were signed and filed Monday, January 10th. Drake's parents both died tragic deaths...

Dick's eyes stopped processing after reading the bland, apathetic word: tragic. What did Debra Mathes know about tragic? What did any of these people know about tragic? The word was thrown around like a rag doll that collected duct under your bed. Your dog died? Tragic. A state is going through the worst drought since the 60's? Tragic. You 105 year old great-great-grandmother died? Tragic. Tragic. Tragic. Tragic.

No one knew tragic like Dick did. No one knew tragic like Bruce. Tragic did not even begin to describe what they had gone through. Bruce hadn't learned his lesson with the last boy, now he found himself a new replacement.

How long could he keep this up? When Richard left he had hoped maybe Bruce would see him as a man, a respectable hero, a son, an equal. Obviously not. Jason was brought in, the amateur trained for a few weeks and thought he was some hotshot. Richard had to train for months until Bruce had finally shown his partner off like a fancy new lap dog.

Dick's blue eyes stayed glued on the beginning sentences for five, long heartbeats that rang slowly from Dick's chest. His chest was closing in on itself. The world around him began to blur outside of the paper before him and the words began jumbling and shaking themselves up. He drew his arms down to his lap quickly, tearing the information from his sight as fast as Cat Woman could turn the dial of a safe.

Dick looked around the small office reserved for him and ten other desks for fellow cops and detectives. They all pushed against one another in an attempt to break from this prison inside a prison. Anger, tension and pure disgust drenched the air with a vile stink of animosity. Criminals brought nothing new here besides a higher pressure in the need for blood. Eyes darted and muscles twitched. There was no trust here. Power was dominant.

As Dick felt the dark emotion of the room drowning him, his blood pulsed in his ears and his heart rate quickened. Heat rolled up his back like a snake on the mossy amazon floor. He felt the heat plunge down his throat and through his body, making a sudden gag tug at his throat.

A quick glance was cast at the paper before he tossed it into the plastic cylinder sitting beside his left leg. That information had brought on the heat and he wanted nothing more then to rid himself of this scorching desert residing in his abdomen.

But no matter where he hid the paper, it's presence still haunted him with the taunting song of circus tunes and children singing off key in the background. Dicks body shook as he pushed his body to the edge of his wooden desk, pushing the heels of his palms in to his ears. This was effective for only a moment, but the music became louder and a sharp ringing echoed behind it.

He needed to leave.

Richard flew to his feet, sailing through the cluster of enraged beings and to the metal doors, glowing like the gold gates entering to heaven, that lead him away from this hell hole. His feet stumbled against one another from the push of the exit.

Dick watched as his breath fogged the air around him, reminding him briefly of the snow falling around his body, but then there was the heat. The warmth wrapped around him like strong arms that he used to seek for comfort, but now he just fought against their hold. These arms pushed him away and slapped his face, making it red and swell with humiliation.

Away. Home. Somewhere...

He began trading to the one room apartment he shared with the noisy atmosphere of this damaged city. He wanted to collapse on the ratty bed he had been residing in for the few years since leaving the king sized mattress that used to hold his tiny, pitiful form.

No!

That room was no home. It wasn't safe. He wasn't safe. Anywhere.

Dick froze with the sudden realization he had no where to go. He looked forward to see the abandoned streets that had long ago been left from the crowds of snow crowding the city. Dick turned slowly to see behind him, feeling the burning presence of the heated grasp reaching for him, but there was no one but the imagined Snow Queen dancing along with her snow flaked children.

Bruce had told him as a child that the Snow Queen made it snow so that her snow flake children could play with the children of the world. He said his mother told him that as a child. But as soon as he had told Dick that piece of information he had suddenly felt that snow flakes were not something of happiness. They played with the wind in a taunting game of tug-of-war; creating the snow storm that meant no child would be able to disturb their silent domain of freedom.

Dick felt the heat push itself down on him and force the young man to fall back and onto the frozen floor beneath him.

He's here. It's not safe. Not here. Not safe.

Dick continued running for the building he resided in. Instead of running up the unstable steps that made a gray concrete road to his top floor apartment, Dick walked to his car that was blanketed with the soft cover of snow.

He didn't know where he was going, but he couldn't stay in Bludhaven any longer. The heat had covered the city in a dome of containment and dominance. Away, he just needed to escape the cage it had made around him.

Sweat poured from him like rain on a window, coloring his clothing in a painting of nervousness. What felt like years turned out to only be twenty minutes according to the digital clock in his car. Not far enough. Not five minutes later, his foot involuntarily pressed hard on the brake, bringing Dick to the side of a winter wonderland.

With the engine turned off and the snow falling harder, Dick stepped out into the cold air of the Winter. Without the green grass and colorful playground it almost looked like a different place, but there was no mistaking it. Their Place.

Dick knew because the large oak tree that he broke his arm on when he was nine stood tall and proud just ten feet away, tauntingly reminding him that it was an untamable creature, one not conquered by a mere child. Bruce had practically popped a vein when Alfred had brought him home with a bright yellow cast protruding from his school uniform jacket.

"Our Place?" Bruce questioned the child slowly.

Dick nodded eagerly at his father, grinning ear to ear despite the bright cast resting on the table beside him.

"Because Daddy took me there yesterday and I wanted to go today, but you were busy and you weren't here." Dick looked down for a moment before smiling back up at his father. "I went by myself and got all scratched up and broken. That means that I can't go there without Daddy or else I'll break again."

Bruce sat straight back, staring incredulously at the child, blinking back his instinct to raise a brow questionably.

"Dick, the reason you broke your are was because you tried to climb a twenty foot tree." Bruce reasoned.

Richard just shook his head and pouted stubbornly up at his guardian. "No, I'm right and you are wrong! It's me and Daddy's Place, not Dick's Place and not Daddy's Place. Our Place. It's safe for you and me. Like the mansion and cave!"

Bruce opened his mouth to argue with the child, but he supposed if Dick wanted to believe that he would get hurt without Bruce he could live with that. It just meant less doctor bills coming in from Leslie.

"Safe." Dick sighed gratefully.

He walked slowly to the Oak, leaning dependently upon the trunk. As soon as his body connected with the strong limb of the beautiful creation the heat was blocked from touching the soul of the young man.

Dick rested his back to the tree, slowly sitting himself atop the snow decorated land to watch the heat ward off. He could almost see the heat wait for him to stand and walk away from the protected plant.

Richard smiled tiredly, but it quickly vanished. Our Place. Not Dick's Place. Not Daddy's Place. Our Place. The heat would come back soon and there was nothing Dick would be able to do.

The tree had already hurt him once, and this was it's debt to him. Protecting him from the heat for the six weeks of holding his arm out of the shower curtain. Soon, it would be back soon.

But the exhaustion crept up just as the heat had and enveloped him in one sweep. As his blue eyes hid themselves, Dick saw the heat hold out it's strong arms, begging him to come and rest his head against that haunting bat symbol.

Alright, first off let me start by saying: "I am so proud of this!" No matter what, I loved writing this and how it turned out. First, I used so many words that I thought meant something totally different, but I got it right! Positive Self Talk level just went up about two levels! Also, I really enjoyed just focusing on Dick's feelings, where as for my others I focus on how all the characters and Batman are feeling. It was an awesome write. So, this obviously takes place after the other stories, Dick being older and on his own as Nightwing. I am planning on writing a few more with older Dick, but not that many.

So, earlier today I was on the internet (duh) and I saw that in the comics Bruce adopted Tim, making him Tim Wayne, but Dick was never legally adopted...WHAT?! I mean, it even states on dick's profile that they created Dick to show the lighter side of Batman and they were inseparable and had a great father/son relationship. Yet, he adopted Tim, but not his oldest son? WHAT?! Ugh, I was so devastated. But somewhere else, it said that Dick was adopted at 16, so IDK! But just thinking about it made me think of how awful Dick must have felt. Would he have been sad, angry, a sobbing mess? I don't know! So here, I made Dick come to grips with it all to fast and he just had a total claustrophobic panic attack. I feel like I did good with it, but I want to know what ya'll think :)

PS, the heat (if you couldn't tell) was the love he feels for Bruce. I mean, the kid loved him obviously, he was his second dad. Then to get that thrown in your face? Like your nothing? I know I'm over reacting, but Dickie is sensitive! He be sad! I also wanted to try writing some angst ;)

Inspiration found by this awesome, lovely girl on Deviantart. Check her out! Since I can't paste a link, I'll put it on my bio on my home page. Check out the pic, I got the idea from it and her drawings are so cute X3

Sorry for the long review and sorry for being gone so long! Promise more soon, I'm working on like three stories for this right now! Driving school is time consuming :/

Next, Dick's first birthday party with Bruce! Yay!