I'm back! And with me comes Damien, the five-year-old who hates happy! Also, I know Talia's backstory and that jazz but not her personality very well, so forgive the OOCness... yah. Enjoy, and PLEASE review!

DISCLAIMER- By Damien: No one can own me. I am the Grandson of Ra's Al Ghul, the son of Batman, and thus, I will kill those who will attempt to lay claim on me. Strangely, in another universe I am nothing but a Comic Book character that a company called DC owns, although I don't know why as there is already Washington DC and DC shoes, at least, that's what I believe they're called, as I would never wear such things. Combat boots are more functional. The person who wrote this fanfiction neither owns me nor profits from me as a fictional character, although I'm plotting the destruction of this... DC. To the ashes, I say.

"Who're you?" Damien looked at me.

"I'm Dick." I answered. Why was he frowning? The room was so big and nice and the bed looked like Tati's and… Tati's… a tear slipped down my cheek. Why did Momma say Tati didn't want me? Why wouldn't he want me? Doesn't he love me?

He said he loved me. No one would believe the big, scary Batman would ever love someone, but he told me he did. He cuddled me when I was scared, he pushed me when I needed it, he played with me when I was lonely… why didn't he want me anymore?

"So you're my Beloved's adopted whelp…" Talia set some apples down between Damien and I.

"Who is 'Beloved,' Gorgeous Lady?"

"Bruce Wayne."

"Tati?" I stared at her. "You know Tati?"

"Yes… I do."

"Seli- Momma says he doesn't want me anymore. Why wouldn't Tati want me, Gorgeous Lady?" I bit my trembling lip.

"Hm." Gorgeous Lady frowned and stood up. "Don't kill him Damien, I doubt Beloved would be pleased by that."

I frowned as she walked away. "Why would you kill me?" I asked the Grumpy Boy.

"Because you're happy, annoying, talkative, likeable, and cheery. I hate happiness."

"Happiness is a good thing. Sometimes when I feel really happy, the air feels like music and the sun feels like silk, and all the world glows like there could be no wrong, and you realize everything doesn't really matter and you feel like you could just float away like spider's silk on the breeze…" I looked up at the sparkling chandelier and smiled distractedly. I remembered one time when Mami had told me that there is good and bad in the world, like the spiders that bite and their silk that's laced with fairy tears in the morning after dew has settled everywhere.

"See, you are a happy, cheery, nice person. I hate happy people."

"Well, I think that sad, boring, scowley, broody people need to cheer up and let the sun sing them a song."

"The sun doesn't sing."

"I can sing."

"That's nice."

"Do you want to hear it?"

"No. I hate you."

"Then I will sing to the crystals." He looked back to the chandelier. "Sunt atât de multe lucruri pentru îngeri să cânte, atât de multe locuri pe care diavolul nu poate ajunge, există locuri pe care speranța poate cânta în seara asta în interiorul ei a luminii. Acolo atât de multe lucruri pentru îngeri să cânte, sunt atât de mulți oameni despre lume singur. Chiar daca frica este de multe ori de guvernământ gândurile mele, îmi pot aminti întotdeauna îngerii sunt mereu aproape de ..."

Meanwhile, Talia was brooding angrily about her Beloved loving this little boy more than her. She was half listening to the conversation and couldn't help but wonder at the little boy. His voice was soft, sing-song, but not too perky and high to be annoying, and his words were like poetry. How could such a young child be like that, ANY child be so different like him?

Then she heard a soft voice start singing and she jerked her head to stare at the little bird. He was laying on his back, his eyes closed, moving his hands in sign language to a song he was singing. It was in Romani, but she slowly converted it to English in her mind: "There are so many things for the angels to sing, so many places that the devil cannot reach, there are places that hope can sing tonight inside her light. There are so many things for the angels to sing, there are so many people in the world alone. Even if fear is often ruling my thoughts, I can always remember the angels are always near..."

She sighed. He was simply adorable, his hands moved in quiet passion and his voice sounded like a lark. I guess a Robin is technically a songbird, she thought. I wonder if he'll ever fulfill his brother's role as Robin?

Eventually Dick started humming softly, still making hand motions as Damien stared at him. A moment later he walked up to Talia.

"Mother, why is he so happy?" He growled. Talia looked at her son and shrugged.

"Some people were lucky with it, Damien."

"Who would want to be happy?"

She looked at her son. He was very much like her Beloved, before he adopted a couple of kids. She internally smiled. If anyone could make Damien happy, it would be Dick. She hadn't been in touch with her Beloved in a while, but she knew Dick is what made the dark, broody, cold bat into the tender, fatherly man. "Many people, Damien."

"He says weird things."

"He's different, Damien. Much different." It certainly did take a very different, special kind of person to make Bruce happy. At this point, she was about ready to figure out how the child did it to maybe bring her Beloved back. Yes, she was getting kind of desperate.

"Gorgeous Lady?" Dick sat up and stopped humming.

"Yes, Dick?" she stared at him.

"Why doesn't Damien like happy? Happy is good, like summer days and fairies."

"Fairies aren't real." Damien growled.

"It's a metaphor." Talia said and turned back to her brooding. Hopefully the boys wouldn't kill each other.

"Well, maybe not, but aliens are real, and so are meta-humans. So I wouldn't be one to judge. Maybe mermaids are real, too."

"Mermaids are ugly, vicious, sea-hags in shell-bras." Damien growled.

"Really? Mami always told me that mermaids were the goddesses of the sea, with hair as long as a river and eyes as blue as the sea itself. If you died at sea in good terms, they'd carry you to the deepest depths where all the treasures of the ocean go and you'd rest in peace as a treasure forever and ever."

"That's stupid, and creepy. And why do you talk like that?"

"Like what?"

"Like- like you're reading a story!"

"I love stories. But I don't talk like a story."

Talia smiled at Damien's displeasure, as well as the rhythmic, song-like voice of the little boy in her chamber. He did indeed speak as if reading a story sometimes.

"Yes you DO!"

"No need to be angry, Damien," Talia chided. "Why don't you tell us a story then, Dick?"

"Otay."

Damien scowled, conflicted. He loved stories, and almost never had the courtesy of enjoying one, but he also didn't really like the happy teller. Finally, he sighed and sat cross-legged on the bed.

"Hmm… most of my stories are in Romanian… so I'll try to translate.

"A long time ago there was nothing. Not the sea, or the wind, or the land, or the sky. The only thing in existence was a being named Hasha. For years and years Hasha roamed empty space until one day he came across a stream.

"Kneeling at the stream was a weeping woman, and Hasha was frightened. Never had there been anything but him. So, in fear, he killed the woman, and in turn the river fled existence in fear of what Hasha would do to it.

"So Hasha continues to wander existence, wondering at what he had done… Ta-da!" Dick smiled, his electric blues eyes shining like headlights, yet Talia could tell the lids were heavy in grogginess.

"That was a terrible story." Damien scowled.

"Nu-uh. I like that story. Stories have meaning, Dam-i-en." The little boy carefully pronounced Damien's name.

"But we're here now so that means it can't be true!"

"That's why it's a story. The story teaches that to be able to grow in life, you'll have to face new things, and not put them out. If you do, you will forever remain empty."

Damien scowled harder, if that was possible.

"Hasha killed the woman, who would have given birth to children, also causing the river to leave, and if the river had stayed, then plants could have grown, and then eventually, the world as we know it would blossom- and Hasha would be a king! But instead, out of his fear, he lashed out, ending it for him."

"I- I still don't like the story."

"But I do." Dick murmured, closing his eyes again and humming the tune for earlier. Eventually, the humming stopped and the sleep won. Damien followed soon after, leaving Talia to ponder.

And there we go! Another chapter! Remember my poll, it's really important, and my 15 Review Challenge! We're getting there! Boo-yah! Hmm... nope, nothing else, so... bye! Please review!

~Universe

p.s.: I stink at writing songs... and my story, meh, but it served its purpose. (;