A/N: Gonna write up the next chapter tonight, hopefully. If I don't fall asleep. I've got too much stuff in my head and not enough room to get it out; the next chapter is exactly what I need.

Disclaimer: Don't own.

Never before had Dick Grayson ever been so grateful for fresh air.

Well, maybe when he was drowning, but even then, the Gotham air had never tasted so sweet. The smell of cigarettes, car exhaust, and marijuana had never been so... perfect.

"Good to be home?" laughed Artemis as she jabbed the crosswalk's button with her elbow, one of his bags slung over her shoulder while the boy carried the other two. His uniform was stashed away safely in one of the three, she knew; Artemis had seen a scrap of yellow amidst all of his jackets and jeans.

He cracked the biggest smile she'd ever seen on his sweet little face. "Better than you would ever know." Grayson watched as cars splashed muddy water up onto the sidewalk, narrowly missing both of them. "I'm mostly glad I'm out from under Dinah's eagle-eye. Black Canary should turn into Black Vulture or something, I swear."

Artemis shook her head and looked over her shoulder at Roy who was stalking a safe distance away. Grayson knew the arrangements, Roy being just a few doors or even a yell away if necessary. Ollie and Dinah still wanted to keep an eye on him before Dick grew attached again. Her gaze focused on the street ahead as the cars screeched to their stops and the raven-haired boy led the way across the street. "Don't tell her that."

"She'll just say it's teen angst or whatever," he snorted. Artemis wasn't the same as Zatanna, but at least he was out of the Watchtower and back on his own turf. Cracked sidewalks and dark alleys felt more like home than any hero facility ever could.

And just the sound of people talking made him thank the League for letting him out of his prison. The economy, crashes at NASCAR, who won yesterday's baseball game. He didn't care what they were talking about, just the general chatter of the world enthralled him; the sound of voices made him was to cry out with joy. People. Albeit stupid people, but they were people, real people, and so many of them...

He wasn't alone.

"Just down here." Artemis ducked down an alley, keeping her head low but her eyes alert. It was a dangerous spot, especially to be taking such a high-class kid, but it was an easy route and if their plan was going to work, they'd have to spark something in Grayson eventually. If even one trip down the alley ignited it, the League would be taken down in less than a month.

It was empty, much to her disappointment, but the other side held her apartment building. The girl motioned across the barren street towards the decent-sized building. "Home sweet home," she said with a bit of a sigh hanging on her words. Her steps paused to admire the view; the building faced West, meaning the sun was reflecting off the front windows in the mid-afternoon hour. It was easily one of those cliché moments that seemed to pop up sometimes. "You'll be rooming with me unless you prefer the couch. It's the only extra bed we've got, and it's only two rooms."

"Fine by me." She was nice enough to offer up her home as a permanent place to stay. If she could get him out of the accursed Watchtower, he didn't care where he slept. In a tent on the street would've been fine for all he cared, as long as he wasn't alone anymore. And as long as she wasn't a dictator. He'd decided he hated dictators. "A roof is basically all I'm asking for at this point."

Smirking, she asked, "So does that mean I don't have to feed you?"

"Hey now, let's not get crazy."

And they crossed the street. Artemis shoved her key in the lock, pushed the door open, let Dick in, and let it slam shut. Roy could get it open with his own key. "Just around the corner. My mom's set up means we have to be on the first floor."

He'd read the notes on her mom in the Justice League files before his exile from the system, but they hadn't formally met yet. Mrs. Crock had put her faith in her daughter's judgment of him and figured that Richard Grayson was a nice boy who needed a real home. The orphan could never be more grateful.

"Mom, we're home!" called out the archer after shouldering the door open to loosen the sticky lock. The girl dropped the bag just to the left of the door and next to the kitchen's garbage can; the two bags in the boy's hands followed soon after.

The chair's wheels squealed to a stop in the small hallway to the right. Then they squealed twice more as she maneuvered her way out of the hall and into the main room. "Artemis." The woman offered a kind smile. Her face was haunted with age come too soon from years of experience. Prison, Grayson knew, could do that to people. "And Richard Grayson." The woman, after making her way slowly and painfully to the door, leaned forward and offered a hand to the boy. "Nice to finally meet you."

It was strange to see how nice she was, especially knowing how many times he and his mentor had put her husband and eldest daughter behind bars. "Mrs. Crock," he replied coolly, playing it smooth in offering his own signature grin.

"Please, call me Paula."

"You can call me Bruce."

"Thank you, Mr. Wayne." His blue eyes took in the house, knowing he should've enjoyed every second of this. Any of his circus family wished and prayed for a house like this. He had it and only felt miserable. He didn't deserve it. This was the prizehe'd won in his parent's deaths. He lost his parents and won a house.

What a sick, twisted world...

"You can call me Bruce."

The man, when Richard looked, was standing right by his side, hands clasped behind his back. Bruce Wayne carried himself regally, like a god among mortals, but he wasn't afraid to step down. Step down to just a Bruce, no Wayne attached.

"Bruce," confirmed a nine-year-old Grayson, looking up at a grandfather clock with sadness tinting his baby blues. He forced a smile. "You can call me Dick."

It was the first time Dick had ever seen his foster father smile, and it was not a moment to forget. "Dick," confirmed Bruce with a satisfied, relieved sigh.

He snapped out of it like a man waking from a coma, breathing slightly hitched, eyes filled with fear. He managed to keep it under wraps the best he could, Artemis noticing the difference in him only as a friend could. Dick managed to keep how grin solid as he confirmed, "Paula."

And the woman retracted her hand from his grasp to wheel herself towards the kitchen. "Now go fix up that room, you two. I'll have dinner ready in an hour."

Artemis picked up two of the duffel bags and left the last for Dick. "Come on. To the hallway." She had expected it to feel weirder, her teammate meeting her mom. Of course, she'd expected her ID to be kept a secret forever, but since that hadn't happened, she hadn't had much time to consider any of the team to meet her mother. Her father, sure, but not in such a casual way...

Artemis ducked into the hallway and around a corner, through another doorway and into the room. She dropped the bags on what had once been her sister's bed; the poster had been taken down. "Your side," she indicated. And she backed up to sit on her own bed. "My side."

"Fair enough." He shoved his bag under the bed. She immediately knew it was the bag with his uniform in it. "As long as you don't sleepwalk."

The girl leaned back on her bed, hair spilling out around her like the rays of the sun. "I don't." Her eyes shut as her muscles relaxed. "Or at least I don't think I do."

There was a quiet pause between them, and the archer leaned over to flip on the radio on her alarm clock. Some song about not wanting to be a queen came on.

Dick's voice piped up after a few minutes of verbal silence. "How does your mom cook, exactly?" he questioned, honestly curious while he hoped he wasn't offending. The wheelchair had to be limiting…

Holding her hands up in surrender, the girl answered, "I wonder the same thing myself."

A/N: Review?

~Sky

P.S. BTW, don't start judging the fact that they share a room. It's my set-up. No hormones here. Don't even think about it.