Author's Note: Not dead! Several other stories on my plate and I want to finish this one! Onward!

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"What took you so long, man?" Wally asked Dick as he walked back with a big glass of water in his hand.

"I was really thirsty," Dick said simply.

"So…you don't need to use the bathroom or anything?"

Dick opened his mouth, and then stopped, turning around with a hurried, "I'll be right back!"

Severalminutes later, he returned without the glass and sat back down with the rest of the Team. They all looked at him earnestly. Garfield was still red-eyed and blowing into a handkerchief.

"Dick," Garfield said quietly, "I don't want to be rude, but I don't think I can handle the rest of the story."

"Relax, Gar," Dick smiled, "it's not as depressing afterwards. I promise."

Garfield peered at him, "You mean it?"

"I do."

"Can we get on with this?" Rocket tapped her foot impatiently, "We're dying to know the rest!"

Dick cleared his throat,

The old man, named Alfred, guided me out of the building and led me to this limo that was waiting at the last step. I blinked a few times, trying to figure out what was going on? How long was the joke going on for? But when Alfred opened the passenger door and buckled me in, I stopped breathing for a moment. I was leaving. I. Was. Leaving.

I could go home. I could go –

Then that thought died when I remembered Haley's Circus was only meant to be in Gotham for a week. It's been at least that long since the wire snapped. My head hung low and I could feel my throat tighten.

I felt someone nudging me gently and saying something. I looked up at Alfred, "What?"

"I said," Alfred replied in that voice that made me think too much of Pop, "Are you alright, Master Richard?"

I didn't trust myself to speak and just shook my head. Everything that happened since my life was taken from me; the center, the cell I had to sleep in, the thugs that looked at me like I was a punching bag, the staff that looked at me like I was trash, it was starting to get to me. My eyes were burning with tears –

" – and trust me, Garfield, this is the second to last sad part of the story," Dick added quickly to the green boy, who looked like he was going to have another outburst.

– and I felt Alfred pulling me into a hug, telling me that everything would be alright eventually and that I wasn't alone. That's when the crying started. For one week, I'd been locked in a cage like an animal and I didn't cry once. Not from the nightmares or the insults or how cold I was or how much I ached from hunger. But from the first act of kindness I'd been given since everything fell apart. I didn't consider Mr. Wayne punching the social worker to be an act of kindness for me, I wasn't thinking straight at the time. Someone I didn't even know was giving me a shoulder to lean on and I didn't want it to go away. A little while later, Mr. Wayne had come to the limo looking red in the face and exhausted. Alfred opened the door for him and he was sitting right next to me a moment later.

"Take us to Leslie's," he said in a hoarse voice. I looked out the window as we drove away and could have sworn I saw a police car stopping at the entrance and storming up the stairs.

Leslie, as it turned out, was a lady close to Alfred's age that ran this clinic in Gotham for anyone who couldn't afford to go to the hospital. A clinic for the poor, the homeless, the loveless. She took one look at me and put a hand to her mouth, then guided me to a separate room. Someone else, a man with blonde hair was there dressed in those blue shirt and pants combos you see people dress in hospitals – scrubs – and Leslie said to him, "Steve, how's the first aid kit?"

The man checked on the kit attached to the wall and gave her a thumbs up. Leslie continued, "Could you grab one of the blankets in storage? I think we'll need it."

I accepted the blanket when it was given to me, remembering just how cold I was –

"Hold it," Artemis held up a hand, "You never mentioned any of this. The hunger, the nightmares, the cold, the pain, the sadness."

"I was skipping ahead and I didn't think it would have been appropriate for some members in the audience," Dick subtly gestured to Garfield.

"I think Conner would have broken something, too," Wally added unhelpfully. Conner grunted, but didn't say anything else, "Or Artemis,"

He looked at his girlfriend with a nervous expression, "There are some things that might trigger you, since…you know…"

"Okay, first off Wally, I'm not fragile. Second off," Artemis sighed heavily, "I appreciate the concern."

Dick continued…

Mr. Wayne stopped Leslie before she could check on my injuries and took photos of them. I felt more than a little uncomfortable, but he promised it was supposed to be evidence to bring the Juvie and everyone running it down. Then there were some questions…

Dick looked at Garfield nervously.

…like if I was hurt certain ways. The man, Steve, even held up a doll and asked me to point to certain areas. He actually sagged in relief when I pointed out just my head, chest and arms.

"Did they think someone tried to touch you?" Garfield asked suddenly.

Dick felt his face go pale, "I…ah…yeah. They did. They double checked, they had Leslie ask me later by myself in a non-confrontational way. I think Bruce couldn't help but think he didn't get me out of there fast enough."

We were at the clinic for an hour and by the time we were done; I was covered in bandages, had my old clothes in a nice suitcase and had been put into a nice pair of black dress pants with a jacket to match. At the time, I thought Mr. Wayne just wanted a kid just for the sake of dressing them up, to show off like a pet. I didn't really care, anywhere had to have been better than Juvie.

So much of it was a blur, all I could really remember were those random acts of kindness from people I never knew. Alfred. Steve. Leslie.

If you know about Bruce Wayne, then there's nothing else to say on the matter, right? Nope. I knew him in passing, just some random rich guy that got in some embarrassing situations that made it to the news sometimes. Someone who donated a lot to charities. Maybe someone who was blaming himself for what happened that night, too, since Haley's was only in Gotham because he paid for it.

When we were finally out of the clinic, I thought we would be driving back to where I'd be staying – Mr. Wayne's house, I mean – but Alfred said quietly that we were supposed to attend a funeral. Then the new suit I was wearing – which hung a little lose on the shoulders – had a new meaning. Mr. Wayne had made the arrangements almost as soon as he filed for custody, and even picked out a spot for my family to be buried.

And everyone at the circus was waiting for us when we arrived. It turned out Mr. Wayne paid them triple what he owed them so they wouldn't miss the funeral and to compensate any travelling he might have affected as a result. Pop gave the eulogies; one from himself and one for each member of the circus. He was the only one who could have done it because everyone else was too busy crying.

I couldn't stop thinking that this was it, I wouldn't see my family again and I knew I wouldn't be able to come with the circus, no matter how much I wanted to, because it wouldn't be allowed. And then they were gone. The eulogies were over, the caskets laid to the ground, the last goodbyes made. Pop told me Uncle Richard survived the fall, but was in a coma under Mr. Wayne's dime. But I was still alone.

Weeks passed and I didn't see much of Mr. Wayne in that time. Alfred kept making excuses, telling me about unexpected business trips or meetings that Mr. Wayne had to go to. But what kind of meetings were held late at night –

"Bruce Wayne is Batman, isn't he?" Rocket said bluntly.

Dick stared at her, "What."

Rocket shrugged, "'Late night business meetings?' Doesn't take a genius to figure out that your guardian is Batman."

"I kept dropping hints about it," Wally said in a sing-song voice, "But no one would listen to me."

"Well, we're listening now," Artemis pecked him on the cheek to silence him, "Happy now?"

"Not until Bird Boy says it," Wally gave Dick a meaningful look.

Dick huffed, "Fine! Batman is Bruce Wayne. I was going to tell you that part anyways, but –"

A loud buzzing! noise cut him off. Dick grumbled and pulled out his phone, "Yeah?" His eyes widened and he began to look uncomfortable,

"I wasn't…Bruce, I swear to God…well how was I supposed to tell my secret ID without mentioning yours in it?! Alright, alright, I'll keep it as edited as possible from now on! See you at home. Bye."

And with that, Dick ended the call and looked at everyone.

"Long story short, I found out Bruce Wayne and Batman were the same person, yadayadayada, he was hunting down Zucco and let me help him so I could get closure and then I became his sidekick."

"After a little negotiating and a failed threat," Wally muttered. Dick glowered at him. Wally ignored this and continued, "Dick threatened to fight crime by himself if Bruce didn't train him…"

"I won't train you, Dick," Bruce looked at his charge with a tired expression, "It's too dangerous."

"Fine," Dick crossed his arms, "I'll just go out and fight crime by myself."

He expected Bruce to cave in at that, but was caught off guard by the glare he was receiving.

"Never. Make. That threat to me. Again. If you even try to go through with it, the only place you'll be allowed to go outside of the Manor is to school. Understand?"

Yessir," Dick squeaked.

"Two weeks later, he decided to train me anyways," Dick cut in, "On the condition that I follow his rules to the letter. And so, Robin was born. Any questions?"

Garfield raised his hand, "Does that mean Batman's inconsistent? Because it feels like he changes moods every time the weather changes."

Dick facepalmed as the others laughed.

XXXX

Author's Note: Funerals can be held a week or two after the death happened. Last part will be short and coming out soon, please review!

Edit: Also, just fixed the last line because it contradicted Dick's characterization from a previous chapter (i.e. making fun of his old outfit).