I Already Have A Father ...

Author's Note: I don't own the Teen Titans ... however, Thomas is mine ... mkay?

Chapter I
Bye Bye Mommy

Gotham City. December 10th, 2015

The snow outside on the streets of Gotham, gently tapped against the ridiculously large and spotless window. The snowflakes stuck to it like small white fairies, begging to come into the warmth. The plea for comfort never lasted long, and every time Thomas looked, a fairy that had once been stuck upon the window, would have disappeared, and in a new spot, there would be a fresh new fairy, with the same objective; warmth.

A small child, no older than four, played with his action figures. He sat, not far from a spectacular Christmas tree, filed with glowing gold lights and sparkling trinkets. Boxes and parcels were slowing growing from his friends and relatives and with each passing day the young boy grew more and more excited for that visit from the legendary red coated man and his trusted shinney nosed steed. Each morning, Thomas would open his advent calendar his parents had bought him and enthusiastically show his mother and father his spectacular prize, and then, carefully place the small chocolate in the fridge. Most boys of his age would have gobbled up the small treat within seconds of opening it, but Thomas never even licked his lips. When his father, an athletic, attractive man who had earned himself the title of 'Gotham's Greatest Detective Since The Dark Knight Himself', opened the fridge to find the number or small pieces of advent chocolate increasing, he questioned his first and only child why he did not eat them. The dark haired boy merely replied;

"Because Santa will be hungry and I want to give him my chocolate to say 'Thanks' for my toys'."

That's how things went for a while. Peaceful, calming, loving. Until one day Thomas's beautiful, successful super-model mother picked him up and sat him upon her knee. She looked deep into his dark green eyes and spoke softly too him.

"Hello Thomas,"

"Hi Mommy. I was just playing cops and robbers,"

"Oh? And who was it that was winning?" His mother asked, hot tears forming in the corners of her emerald eyes, making the edges of them glisten.

The young boy looked sad and took a piece of his mother's long, silky red hair, twisting it with his fingers. "The robbers,"

"That is not right Thomas. Should it not be the 'Good Guys' who should be wining?"

Thomas sighed, showing his mother that he was reluctant to let the good cops win yet again. But he did not want to displease her. "Yeah Mommy they should I guess. I'll make the good guys mash the bad guys up real bad then,"

His father was leaning with his arms folded against the door frame. An odd little smile painted across his pale face. His brown eyes watching the only family he had left. He knew it may be the last time he looked upon his son and wife together again. He had to be strong. For him. For her. His mother smiled too, continuing her last words. "Mash them up? Would it not be a better idea if the 'Bad Guys' got sent to jail instead ... rather than being ... mashed up?"

"Okay," He sighed once more, making his father's odd little smile grow into a smile of humour at his son's willingness toward 'mashing the bad guys up'.

"That is a good boy. Now Thomas, I would like you to remember that no matter what happens in your life, your Mommy will always love you. Promise me?"

Thomas stared at his Mommy. He didn't understand. He'd always thought that if you cried you had to very sad, so why was his Mommy smiling at him too? He only knew he had to promise to his mother's request. "Ok Mommy," He smiled, wanting praise for his promise. His mother smiled back, lovingly. Satisfied with himself Thomas eagerly said; "Ok, can I go and play now?" His mother ruffled her son's dark hair and kissed his forehead. Thomas made a disgusted face and wiped his brow with the back of his hand. "Ewwwwwww! Mommy that's gross!"

She and his father smiled, and she finally placed her son back on the floor. He ran to his action figures, making small, sound affects with his mouth so the guns and dieing sounds seemed more realistic. His mother placed a hand on her head and sobbed, quietly. Her husband slowly walked to her, placing his hands around her. He wiped a warm tear from her cheek and she looked deeply into his eyes.

"He looks more and more like you everyday," She said.

Her handsome husband smiled warmly at her. "Shh, it's ok,"

"I do not wish to leave you two,"

"Hey, hey, you've a duty to your people. They're counting on you. Besides," He swallowed. "It won't be for long now huh?" He tried so hard to be strong for his wife. He did well. But inside, her departing from him was tearing his heart to pieces. Cutting into his soul and spirit. He was about to loose the person he'd loved since he was fifteen years old, and he didn't know when he'd find her again.

"I know but I love you and Thomas so much," She rested her red head in his neck, stroking his chest with her feminine fingertips. He in returned stroked the back of her head. They both watched their son play with his toys. How could he understand?

"He loves you. I love you,"

"I know. Don't let him forget me Richard."

"Never. He will never forget you."

Gotham City. January 25th, 2027

The thirty-seven year old man sat with his heavy head resting on his left hand. A cup of cold coffee was his only companion, not surprising since it was 3:30am. He sat at his old, large, home desk. Scattered upon it was dozens of documents, work papers, and newspaper clippings. He was getting no where. He took a gulp of his double espresso, only to spit it back into the rest of the cold coffee. Frustrated with his progress still not increasing his smashed his fist onto the desk, sending drops of coffee and stationary everywhere. He placed his hands on the back of his head and turned around, only to be faced with his sixteen year old son.

"Dad? Oh c'mon man it's 3:30am! Dad, you said you'd get some sleep!" His son rubbed his hazel eyes and stared angrily at his father.

"Sorry son but I'm so close to getting that Terry Slugsby guy,"

"If you were so close Dad you'd have caught him already,"

Richard Greyson stared at his son. His jet black hair laid flat on his head, just ending below his eyebrows. His once emerald eyes had taken to the colour of his father's brown and merged to create a deep, rich hazel colour. He was dressed in a white t-shirt and blue boxer shorts; his night clothes. He sighed. "Yeah. Yeah your right. I'll get some rest,"

Thomas sighed. He knew his father was busy and he loved his job, but his job was now becoming an obsession. It was the fourth night he'd stayed up all night and it was beginning to show. He was still athletic, he had to be, chasing criminals down, and he still looked attractive, for a man almost reaching forty, but his rich chocolate brown eyes were shrinking into his pale face and his lips were thinning. A few lines were now showing around his eyes when he smiled and a few grey hairs (almost unnoticeable but still, they were there) were replacing his black hair. He knew when he woke tomorrow his father would be at his desk, eyes red, smelling of coffee, still without sleep or food. "Kay Dad. Night," His son turned and headed back up the stairs to his room.

"Night Tom," Richard turned once more to his work and started tidying up his notes when he picked up a piece of information he hadn't seen before. He sat back down on the chair and began frantically scanning the page. He took the cold coffee cup, drinking. Letting the cold coffee drip down his throat.

Tom woke early that morning, dressed in jeans, and a warm black polo neck, for it was cold and brittle out side. That winter had been particularly ferocious, and the spring was finding it hard to defeat the chilling air. Tom hated the winter, he hated the cold mostly. Something about it made his entire body chill like the weather that came with winter.

"Dad," Thomas sighed. "Dad, you said you'd sleep!"

"Huh?" Was the reply he received. He shook his head. Getting through to his Dad was hopeless when he was 'on to something'. He walked to the kitchen, searching the cupboards for breakfast. Finding nothing appealing, he gave up, grabbed his school bag and walking to the door.

"See ya Dad,"

His father rose a hand, without looking. "See ya son!" The door slammed, alerting Dick. Too late. His son was gone.

Thomas liked walking to school. It was a chance to concentrate on himself. On his thoughts. His Dad was still Gotham's top detective and he was immensely proud of his father. Thomas, himself wanted to become an adventurer. He remembered vaguely when he was seven or eight, his Dad siting on the bed next to him, taking out a book to read to his son, then half way through reading it, he'd sigh, chuck the book on the floor and say; "Say Thomas? You wanna hear a real adventure story?" Then, he'd tell stories of the legendary 'Batman' and of his tales of justice and equality. He used to think that Batman was his grandfather or some distant relative of his father's, until the stories declined and he realised that the Dark Night his father spoke of was nothing to him but a character in a bed time story. Now his father's latest obsession was of Terry Slugsby, the 'Advanced Technology' thief. The only person to escape the clutches of his father and it was eating him up to think his prey was out there, probably supping up a cool bear and mocking the word 'equity'.

Soon, Thomas was approaching 'Gotham Elementary High School'. The building wasn't particularly pleasant. Saying that no building in Gotham was particularly pleasant. Gargoyles were placed on every corner or the building. The teachers explained, they watched over the school. When you asked the students they usually told you they were great places for pidgins to perch upon and crap over you if you wasn't carefully. Consequently, no one ever walked near the gargoyles. A tall, black fence surrounded the school and once the gates closed at 8:30am you were trapped, until let reopened again at 3:00pm.

Thomas sighed as he quickly ran to his first lesson. English literature. He was late. Again.

"Sir? Mr Greyson?"

"Huh?" Dick looked up to see Penny, his secretory, perking her little face around his office door.

"Miss Farrot is on line one for you sir."

"Thank you Penny," She nodded and closed the door. Dick picked up his black office phone, cleared his throat and pressed the red 'line-one' button.

"Richard Greyson speaking,"

"Dick! Hi, it's Jayne! Listen I've got the press here demanding news on Slugsby and I haven't got them any. Have you?"

"What?"

"Got any news? Only the public, apparently, are getting restless about not hearing anything,"

Dick's face darkened. Slugsby was getting to him bad. "No," he said, through gritted teeth.

"What! C'mon Dick it's been two weeks!"

"Look Jayne I'm working on it alright!" He said fiercely.

"Well. As long as you work on it quick. Can't let your name as 'Top Detective go to shame now huh?"

"Don't worry Jayne. It won't" He put the phone down, hanging up on Jayne.

He ran his fingers through his hair, annoyed that Jayne Farrot had the nerve to insult him like that. Who was he kidding? He was annoyed with himself, for not throwing that slime ball Slugsby behind bars. He pressed a green button on his phone and talked into the speaker.

"Penny?"

"Yes Mr. Greyson Sir?"

"Double espresso please. Quickly as you can."

AN: Ok, yes, ok I know most Teen Titan fics have Robin's eyes mysterious blue, however if you actually read a bio of Dick Greyson (assuming the Robin in Teen Titan's is Dick Greyson) it explains he has brown eyes, and I thought; why not be different and make Robin's eyes brown? So, no reviews on that please!!