Disclaimer: I don't own these characters.

It's Saturday peoples, so I can write all day if I want and not worry about stupid 'office procedures'. Thanks for the reviews and favorites. In answer to a question in one: yes, I am posting a chapter a day. I've got seven written so far, and if I'm lucky I can get to at least ten today... hopefully. But I don't want to just post them all at once and be pressured to speed through a chapter. It would come out rushed and I probably wouldn't be happy with it. Anyway, here's chapter four. Enjoy! ;D

Chapter 4: Contemplations

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Dick kept his eyes firmly on the window as they drove through Gotham to Mr. Wayne's house. It was still pouring, like it had been all day, and the raindrops created hypnotizing streaks on the glass. He didn't know where exactly they were going or how long it would take for them to get there. He remembered that Bruce Wayne had paid for his parents' funeral, meaning he had to be wealthy. Dick imagined he lived in a fairly big house. Maybe he was married and had a family.

Dick could feel Mr. Wayne looking at him through the rearview mirror every time they came to a red light or a stop sign. He was nervous. He didn't know how to act around Dick. That was obvious. So if he is married they don't have kids, Dick decided.

In his time at the circus he had seen countless kids. Sometimes they got separated from their parents in the large crowds. Depressed or crying, if his father had come across one he would have them calmed in a second. Dick had once asked him how he did it. How did he know just what to say to cheer them up? 'It's a Dad thing,' he'd said as he ruffled Dick's hair, 'Keeping little birds happy is what we do best.'

Mr. Wayne had seemed so uncomfortable just opening the 'Warden's' door for Dick. As though he were afraid he would offend him in some way by doing so. Why would anyone find that offensive? No, Dick thought again as he carefully traced a line on the window with his finger, He doesn't know anything about kids.

He diverted his eyes to the man for a brief second to see if he at least had a wife. No wedding ring. Dick was truly puzzled now.

Why would Mr. Wayne want to take him in? A single man, with money, and no wife? Dick wasn't a genius, but he was pretty sure people didn't do things like this. Especially people from Gotham City… unless they were up to something illegal.

But then again, Bruce Wayne had already passed under Dick's critical eye. He was one of the good ones. He wouldn't hurt Dick.

No… there was only one reason a man like Mr. Wayne would take him in. Pity.

Dick didn't need pity. He didn't need sympathy. He needed to be wanted. If Mr. Wayne was only doing this because he felt sorry for what Dick had experienced… well, it just wouldn't be real. This man might feed him, give him a warm bed, clothe him in actual clothes instead of the Juvenile Hall's uniform; but what if he didn't even like Dick?

The physical trauma he had gone through could be easily fixed with nourishment, sleep, and a few bandages. What he needed was someone who could help him emotionally. Dick wasn't dumb. He knew he needed help. He didn't want to be moody and withdrawn for the rest of his life. He wanted to smile. He wanted to laugh again. But he needed a reason to. Was Mr. Wayne capable of helping him with that? The current silence in the car didn't reassure him.

He sighed and closed his eyes, imagining what his parents would say if they could hear the pity party he was throwing in his head.

Richard John Grayson, his mother would've scolded, This man just got you out of that horrible cell. You shouldn't be so critical of him.

"Eu sunt imi pare rau," (I'm sorry) he mumbled softly, speaking Romani in case Mr. Wayne heard him, "Are doar astfel incat tare fara tu. Am nu stiu ce pentru a face." (It's just so hard without you. I don't know what to do)

We know, son, he imagined his father's voice, But you can't stop living because we're gone. Give him a chance, he seems like a good person… not everyone can be good with people.

"Bolnav incercati, dar…" (I'll try, but…)

No 'buts', little robin, his mother reprimanded, Be strong. Be happy. For us.

He sighed, "Bine, Am promisiunea." (Alright, I promise)

He was sure most people would think he was crazy, pretending to talk to his dead parents like that. But he didn't care. He felt better then he'd felt since that night.

He was so caught up in his own thoughts that he didn't realize the car had stopped. He jumped when someone opened his door. An old man in a neatly pressed suit was holding an umbrella over his head. Dick didn't even need to study him to know he could be trusted. He was what Dick always thought a grandfather would look like. A kind weathered face, a small warm smile. But it still startled him.

"Cine sunt tu?" (Who are you?) Dick automatically said. Then he realized that it was probably rude to ask that and he was still speaking Romani anyway. He looked down in embarrassment. "Sorry," he said, his voice was weak and his accent could be clearly heard.

The man just smiled, "That's quite alright, sir," he had an accent too, like the people Dick had met overseas at a show in London. "My name is Alfred Pennyworth," he introduced himself with a slight bow, "I cook the meals and make sure everything is kept clean."

"Nice to meet you," Dick managed quietly, "My name is Richard Grayson."

"Yes sir, I know," Mr. Pennyworth nodded, "I've just finished preparing your room." He offered his hand, "Would you care to come inside, Master Richard? You might catch a cold in this rain."

Dick tilted his head in confusion. Master? He'd only ever heard that word at the circus when Pop Haley introduced himself as the 'Ringmaster'. That obviously wasn't what Mr. Pennyworth had meant. Maybe it was part of the language the older man had spoken before he learned English.

Cautiously, he slid his hand into Mr. Pennyworth's and let himself be helped out of the car. He almost fell over in shock when he got his first look at Mr. Wayne's home. It looked more like a fortress than a house. Big, dark, intimidating. "Nebun," (Crazy) he whispered. He glanced at Mr. Pennyworth and timidly asked, "How many people live here?"

"I, Master Bruce, and now you, sir."

Dick's eyes widened. Just the three of them? It looked big enough to hold Pop Haley's entire circus… Big Top and elephant included. "Nebun," he muttered again.

He heard the sound of the trunk shutting and turned slightly to see Mr. Wayne sliding a ring full of keys into his pocket while clutching the handle of a small suitcase in his other hand. It was Dick's suitcase. The one the social worker had packed. The guards had taken it from him the day of the funeral and locked it into storage with Peanut.

"Come along, Master Richard," Mr. Pennyworth said pleasantly as he gently pulled Dick towards the door, "We'll show you to your room so you can wash up while I fix you something to eat. What would you like?"

Dick frowned. He knew he needed to eat. It had been at least a day and a half since he had anything… even then it was just one slightly bruised apple. He couldn't remember when he'd last had a full meal. He was just at that point. Where he knew he should eat, but felt like he'd be sick to his stomach if he did. But one look at Mr. Pennyworth told him that he didn't have a choice. He had the same look on his face that Dick's mother did when he refused to eat his vegetables.

"I don't know, sir," he said softly, "Anything is fine I guess."

"Very well," Mr. Pennyworth said with a slight sigh, "Perhaps some soup would be best. And please, call me Alfred."

Dick just nodded as they walked inside. The entryway was large and echoey, with dark wooden floors, red carpeted stairs at the end of the hall, and a glittering chandelier hanging from the ceiling. There were a few doors and arched openings leading to different rooms as well. The storm outside made everything seem gloomier than it probably was… he hoped. Alfred let go of his hand, closed the umbrella, and placed it in a bucket-type thing by the door.

"Master Bruce," he turned to Mr. Wayne, "would you please show Master Richard to his room and help him get settled." Dick could tell it wasn't really a question.

Mr. Wayne's eyes widened in surprise. He opened and closed his mouth a few times as though he were trying to say something, but didn't know what words would fit. Dick kind of knew how that felt… it had been the same for him when he first started using English.

M. Wayne managed to mumble, "Sure." But it hardly mattered because Alfred had already left them. Mr. Wayne looked down at Dick and tried to smile, but he was too nervous for it to look like more than a grimace.

"So…" Mr. Wayne said awkwardly, "your room is… upstairs." Dick just tilted his head curiously. "Why don't you… I'll… follow me," he finally formed a complete sentence. Without another word he turned and led the way up the stairs.

Dick sighed and went after him. At least this was going to be interesting. He could tell.

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Next up we have Dick settling in... sort of. There still won't be much dialogue until chapter 6 though.