Okay, so this is set during the current 'Ric' Grayson story-line where Dick has lost his memory and works for a cab company. (I know, I just want him to get his memory back too - and start going by Dick again.)

I do not own these characters.

A Short One Shot:

You Really Don't Remember?

Tap-tap-tap

Ric groaned. Who would be knocking on his door this early in the day? He checked the time on his phone. 10:30 am. So maybe, it wasn't exactly an unreasonable time to knock – but it was still early for him. Grudgingly, Ric lifted himself out of bed. He had worked well into the night and was not in the mood to be roused from his sleep. Far more people in Bludhaven seemed to need cab rides at night than they did during the day.

Tap-tap-tap

Damn, whoever this was, they weren't patient. Rick finally dragged himself to open the door.

"Took you long enough,"

Ric's head snapped down. It was a kid. Ric cocked his head studying the young boy. He looked about twelve. Although, the unflinching gaze the kid had fixed on him made him look far older. Ric's eyebrows drew together in a frown – wait, shouldn't the kid have parents with him or something? Ric popped his head out the door scanning up and down the apartment complex for any sign of an adult. It was all empty.

He brought his eyes back down to the kid to find that the boy's own were still fixed on him. The sharp emeralds watched him intently. It felt like his every movement was being analysed meticulously. Ric repressed a shudder. This was one unnerving kid.

"Uh…look kid," Ric began, "if you're with the boy scouts–"

"I'm not with the boy scouts Grayson," The kid scoffed, pushing past Ric to enter the apartment.

Rick frowned. This kid had some– wait, Grayson? he groaned inwardly. Yet another thread to his past life. Closing the door, Ric turned around to face the kid.

"Kid, if you're here for 'Dick'–"

"-tt-" the kid cut him off, "I'll never understand your insistence on that ridiculous name."

Well… at least they could agree on something. Ric watched as the kid seated himself on the couch. It was done with such familiarity, he had to wonder how many times the boy had performed that movement in his presence. Once satisfied with the way he was seated, the boy turned that penetrating gaze on him once more. Ric repressed yet again the urge to recoil from those eyes. Did the kid even know how intimidating he was? Ric eyed him curiously. Maybe he did it on purpose.

"What do you remember?" came the abrupt question, breaking the silence.

Ric sighed. He had been through this far too many times. Deciding that he might as well get himself comfortable for this, he moved to sit on the opposite end of the couch. When he turned back to face the boy, he noticed that his eyes bore into him. Waiting, intent. God, he was going to be so disappointed.

"Nothing after the circus, kid."

The boy's gaze faltered. Ric looked away.

"Then…" the boy began, his voice cracking on the word. He stopped himself, pausing to take a breath before continuing again. "Then, you really don't remember me."

Ric forced himself to look at the boy again. His eyes were glassy now. Damn, none of the others had given him this reaction. What was he meant to do?

"I'm really sorry kid."

The boy didn't respond. He sat silently, averting his gaze. Had 'Dick' really meant that much to this kid?

"Hey kid," Ric tried again "I really am sorry." He sighed. There was no way this was going to go well. "Let me drive you back to your parents or something."

The boy huffed, "We're not on speaking terms."

Well, that had Ric stumped. "Uh… okay, who are you on speaking terms with?"

This time, when the kid looked up, his gaze wasn't intimidating. It was desperate. The boy's eyes searched his own for even some small spark of recognition, some hint of the man he had once known – anything. There was nothing. The boy's eyes were beginning to water. He blinked the tears back forcefully and turned his gaze away once more.

"You," the boy finally answered, "I was always on speaking terms with you."

Ric froze. Who was he to this kid? He almost wished that he could remember. Before Ric could make a move to respond, the kid stood up in an abrupt motion. Not sparing another glance at Ric, he walked toward the door. As the kid was turning the knob, his hand stalled.

"You were a good brother Grayson," The boy said, his back still to Ric, "the best."

With those final words the boy slipped out. Ric's eyes stayed glued to the door, processing what the kid had said. His brother? He ran his hand over his head trying to push aside the sinking feeling at the pit of his stomach. For the first time, he was beginning to realise that he might have lost something profoundly special when that bullet had hit his head.

Okay, that was just something short because I have been contemplating how Damian might react to the knowledge that his favourite big brother has lost his memory. Please let me know what you think - all feedback is appreciated. And also, for those of you who do follow my other story - I haven't abandoned it I promise! I've just been a little slack on the updates - but I will update soon!

Anyway, thanks for reading and I hope you liked it!