Well, this chapter turned out much longer than the first. Please, critique me, I want to be better at writing these characters, and I appreciate every review.

I remember a long time ago, probably when I was 7 or 8 years old, I was practicing flips with my parents. It might've been the first time I was ever taught to do it, in fact. My parents were very good at what they did. I knew that as long I was in their hands, I was safe.

I walked along the balance beam, arms stuck out at my sides. My mom was on one side of me, my dad on the other, ready to catch me if I fell. What they wanted me to do was run in a straight line, do a front flip, and land back on the balance beam. I had seen each of them do it dozens of times, but somehow I didn't think I could. And I wasted no time telling my dad this.

"Dad, I can't do it! It's too hard!"

He raised an eyebrow and smiled. "It's not that hard! It's actually pretty simple."

"But what if I fall?" My shoulders slumped and I dropped my arms, at the same time almost losing my balance. My parents each raised their arms in case I fell, but I righted myself before they had to do anything. My dad smirked.

"I don't think you will."

But right then, being the 7 or 8 year old that I was, I wanted someone to agree with me. So I turned to my mom. She just smiled the same smile my dad did. "You can do it, my little robin."

I groaned. I hated it when she called me that. But, I decided I should try the move. Just to make them happy.

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath.

But, when I opened them, I wasn't with my parents. I wasn't even in the gym. I was lying in a bed in the Gotham City Orphanage.

Kicking the musty covers to the end of the bed, I sat up and looked around. I was one of many children in the rows of beds lining the walls, but I was the only one awake. I checked the clock. 12:04. It had been nearly 2 hours since...

I bit my lip to stop the sobs from happening again. I couldn't deal, at least at the moment, with the fact that my entire life had changed in a single moment. It was too much to bear to even think about what was going to happen. Was I going to spend the rest of my life in this orphanage? What if someone adopted me? Would I have to call them "Mom" or "Dad"?

I got up and looked out the window. Gotham looked prettier when you weren't actually walking around in its streets, just looking out on it. It was impossibly dark, with pinpricks of light scattered throughout it. But, no matter how pretty Gotham could be, I still hated that I was stuck there and not traveling with Haley's Circus where I belonged.

Just then, the door opened. I dove back into bed and threw the covers back over me just in time. I had my eyes shut, but from what I could tell it was two pairs of footsteps that moved quietly around the room. Then, someone whispered.

"He's there. I don't want to wake him, but now that I think about it, he might want to leave now." He paused. "He has no family. His parents were all he had."

The next voice was deeper. "He's had a rough night. Let him sleep."

It was then I realized that they were both standing next to my bed. Had someone come to take me home with them? As much as I didn't want a new family, I really didn't want to stay at this orphanage one moment longer. I feigned a yawn, then pretended I was just waking up. When I opened my eyes, I saw the owner of the orphanage, an old man with silvery hair that walked with a cane, and a man I had never seen before. He was tall, with wide shoulders, and wore an expensive-looking suit.

"Dick, you're awake," the owner said. He gestured to the man next to him. "This man has come to adopt you."

Besides the nice suit, the first thing I noticed about him that I wasn't used to was the fact that he had a chauffeur. The man opened the car door for us without saying a word. I climbed in, placing my suitcase with my few possessions on my lap. The man who had adopted me sat next to me, so tall his head brushed the ceiling.

"Richard, my name is Bruce Wayne," he said, and smiled, and for a moment I was reminded of my father. I mentally kicked myself. There was no way I was replacing him.

I wanted to tell him to call me Dick, but I couldn't muster up the will to speak, so I just nodded. This was terrible. I was already trying to convince myself that this wasn't really happening, but everything that was happening I was so unused to.

We drove for some time in silence. His house must have been right on the outskirts of Gotham. When we finally arrived, I almost gasped. His house was gigantic. I wondered if he had a family, a wife and kids, that he shared that huge house with.

We exited the car. I craned my neck upward to try to get a look at the house close up, but it was too tall. When we entered the front hall, I was instantly surprised. The walls were covered in old paintings, expensive looking vases and statues covered the shelves, and everything looked very fancy. But, what surprised me was how empty it all felt. I had a suspicion that the decor was the closest thing Bruce got to company.

There was a tall, kind looking old man standing in the foyer. Just as I was starting to get annoyed at how everyone seemed to be taller than me, the man walked up to me and grasped my hand in a handshake. "Hello, Master Richard, I've been expecting you. My name is Alfred." He spoke with a British accent, and was probably the most proper sounding man I'd ever spoken to. There was no doubt in my mind that he was the butler. "Your bedroom is on the second floor, third door on the left. Would you like me to help you find it?"

"No thanks," I replied. "I'll be able to find it."

"Well, you can go unpack, then," Bruce said. "And you should go to sleep, it's really late."

I nodded. I still couldn't bring myself to speak directly to Bruce. As I walked through the too-large hallways and tried not to touch the breakable items that seemed to be everywhere, I was overwhelmed by everything that was happening. I was actually going to live here.

I stopped in my tracks, dropping my suitcase. It opened as soon as it hit the ground, its contents spilling over the ornate carpet. I wanted to move, but grief was gluing me to the floor. What was going to happen to me? What was my life going to be like without my parents? What if Bruce wanted me to call him "Dad"?

I bit my lip and put my hands over my eyes, but I could stop the tears from spilling out. I hated that I couldn't even make it to my room, which I now couldn't remember where it was, before I completely broke down.

I wiped at my eyes a few times, then stared down at my open suitcase. A few articles of clothing were now laying on the floor, along with something I had almost forgotten about. My childhood teddy bear. I remembered that I had almost neglected to pack it, because of the social workers that were standing over me and urging me to hurry, but somehow I couldn't. It was the only memory I had of what was left of my childhood. I had had it since I was born.

I picked it up. It was pretty old and you could see where it had had to be resown several times. I had simply called it Bear, but it lost an eye when I was around 8 and my dad started calling it Cyclops Bear. Remembering this, tears came to my eyes for the second time.

"Master Richard?" I looked up.

Alfred was standing next to me, looking at me with a worried expression. All I could think to say was, "You can call me Dick."

"Master Dick, then. Are you alright?" I nodded.

Alfred sighed, then put a hand on my shoulder. I remembered then that the last time I had touched another human being was back at the tent, when I had cried into the Batman's cape, but then again, I didn't even know if Batman was fully human. "Let's pick all this up."

We both stuffed clothing into my suitcase for a few moments, in silence, until Alfred spoke again. "Is that your bear, Master Dick?"

"Yeah." I looked down at the thing, still in my hand. "I've had it forever, and I know it's really old and I'm not supposed to have stuff like that 'cause I'm older, b-but it's the only thing I h-have l-left-" The rest of my sentence dissolved into yet more tears. Alfred took me in his arms.

"There, there," he said. "You're going to be fine."

I was exhausted. The covers I was under were fluffy and clean and comfortable, and it was dark. But I couldn't sleep there any more than I could sleep in the ratty bed at the orphanage.

I rolled over and stared at one spot on the wall for what seemed like an eternity, until the whole room was bathed in light. I sat up. Nothing had changed.