Edited: 1/26/2017

The ship shook as they rocketed out of Earth's atmosphere. Barbara sat next to him, tears slipping out from underneath closed eyelids. Her calm and collected mask had shattered the moment he had entered the strange transport. Dick just stood there, holding her tight until a scout shouted at them to sit down. Now he sat quietly, holding her hand and staring at nothing. With nothing to do but wait, memories entered unbidden into his mind.

An eight-year-old Dick Grayson sat next to a giant window. He watched the sun sink behind the horizon, throwing the world into shades of reds, purples, and blues. The image blurred as tears spilled onto his cheeks. His heart throbbed with the pain of losing his parents and he felt so alone in this large, empty house. Even with his two new housemates, he couldn't shake the feeling.

Dick closed his eyes but the tears kept coming. He missed them so much. He missed the way his mom used to sing him to sleep. He missed the way his dad used to tickle him until they were both blue in the face. He missed the way they looked at each other when they thought he wasn't looking. There had been so much love between them and their trailer had always been so warm because of it.

But this house, no, this castle was way too cold. It was too dark and too big, that he felt like he was suffocating. There was just too much space and he felt like he was developing gora…gora-something. His dad had explaining the word's meaning to him, the fear of wide open spaces, but now he couldn't remember.

Dick punched the chair he was sitting in, frustrated. Why couldn't he remember? Suddenly, the door to the room opened and light flooded in. A shadow of a man slithered across the floor and faulted at his feet. Dick turned away.

"Dick?" called the shadow. It had Bruce's voice. The shadow shrunk as the figure moved closer. Bruce paused at the chair. "Dinner will be ready soon. Are you hungry?"

Dick didn't respond. His stomach wouldn't stop wiggling and twisting and he doubted he could keep anything down. Bruce sighed, "Okay," and he turned to leave.

A small broken voice stopped him. "Does it ever stop?"

"What?" Bruce asked.

"The pain, does it ever go away?" Dick clarified.

Bruce's face softened and he knelt down till he was face to face with the small boy. "No," he answered honestly and Dick's shoulders sagged. He placed a comforting hand on one of those shoulders. "But it does get easier. You'll get through it and I'll be there every step of the way."

Dick finally looked him in the eye. "Do you promise?"

Bruce nodded, "I promise."

Dick launched himself at his new guardian, hugging him as tight as he could. "I miss them so much!" He sobbed.

Bruce wrapped his arms around the heartbroken boy, "I know."

"I'm forgetting things." Dick mumbled into his shoulder.

"What?" Bruce asked pushing him back to hear him properly.

"I'm forgetting what they were like," Dick cried. "I'm forgetting what they looked like, what they sounded like…" He trailed off, trying to remember.

Bruce gazed sadly at the grief-stricken child. He remembered lying in his bed one night when he was a boy, sobbing, because he had forgotten what his dad had liked to eat for breakfast in the mornings. He remembered breaking down because he couldn't recall the lyrics to his mother's lullaby. He wasn't going to let Dick forget too.

He held out his hand to the boy, who simply looked at it confused. "Come on," he urged. "I want to show you something."

Dick took the offered hand and let Bruce lead him through the old mansion. They descended one of the many staircases and entered a sitting room. He gasped as his eyes were immediately drawn to the giant portrait that was the focal point of the room. Over the roaring fire, immortalized on the canvas, was a painting of his parents. His mom's head rested against his father's strong chest, her eyes closed in bliss and a warm smile played on her face. Her red hair framed her face in soft curls, accenting her natural beauty. His father had a similar smile as he embraced his wife. His magnificent blue eyes gazed down at her lovingly. They were both dressed in their Flying Grayson costumes, bringing bright colors to the picture. The same smile found its way onto their son's face as he stared up at them.

"They're not going, Dick." Bruce said kneeling next to him. "Not as long as you keep them in here," he tapped the boy's head, "and in here." He then tapped his chest right over his heart. Dick smiled. Bruce's own smile morphed into a playful smirk. "Or is it here," he poked him in the side, earning him a giggle. "Or here," He poked him over and over and Dick's laugh warmed the once cold home.

Dick returned to the present smiling. That memory was always bitter sweet to him. The pain of his parent's deaths always hit him full force with that memory, but it was also the first-time Bruce had ever made him laugh.

Barbara squeezed his hand and turned his attention to the viewing window. "Look," she whispered and they both stared in amazement at the massive space station they were approaching. It had the arrangement of a molecule with a large, central hub and many smaller spherical hubs branching out.

"Welcome, humans," a scout said smugly, "to the Arena."