Sorry about the lack of updates. I haven't been near computers lately.

I might be taking some stuff from the Nolanverse (like how to get into the Batcave).

I stared at the ceiling, feeling intensely hollow inside. This was the first day of my life without my parents.

The clock on the wall told me it was 6:00. In my mind, that was way too early to get up, but I couldn't take another second of lying in bed doing nothing. I threw the blankets off of myself and jumped out of bed. Grabbing my suitcase, I placed it on my bed and opened it, searching around until I found some clothes to wear. Once I was dressed, I exited my room.

As soon as I opened the door, I smelled a familiar aroma that had filled my trailer more than once, which was the smell of pancakes being cooked on the stove. Almost instantly, my stomach grumbled ferociously. How long had it been since I'd eaten? It hadn't seemed like it had been that long, but I was still a very hungry person. I followed the enticing scent downstairs to the kitchen to find Alfred standing at the stove holding a spatula.

"Good morning, Master Dick," Alfred said pleasantly, flipping over a pancake. "Would you like breakfast?"

I sat down lightly at the counter, noting that Alfred remembered that I preferred to be called Dick. Suddenly, I felt more at ease. "Sure."

Alfred slid one of the pancakes onto a plate and placed it in front of me. I grabbed the syrup bottle sitting beside me and drowned my meal in it. Alfred raised an eyebrow at it and asked, "Perhaps you'd like some pancake with your syrup?"

At this, I cracked a smile, which in turn made Alfred grin.

I shoveled the food into my mouth, instantly lighting up a little more at the fact that Alfred seemed to be an awesome chef. "This is great."

"Why, thank you." Alfred had stacked the rest of the pancakes on another plate and was beginning to clean the pans. "How are you this morning, Master Dick?"

I hesitated before answering. "I'm okay." I decided to focus on the sweetness of the saturated pancakes for a while instead of the aching holes in my heart where my parents once were.

When I finished eating, Alfred took my dishes. I decided to make small talk. "So, do you do all the work around here?"

"I do."

"Doesn't it take a while to clean the place? It's pretty big."

"We don't use most of the mansion," Alfred explained. "Although I suppose we'll get more use out of the place with you around, eh?"

I was confused by this. "You mean you and Mr. Wayne are the only ones that live here? But it's so huge! He doesn't have a wife or anything?" I looked around the kitchen as if I expected more people to emerge from a cupboard. "And where is he, anyway?"

"Master Bruce has already gone off to work," Alfred said.

"When's he gonna be back?"

"Around suppertime. But he will be returning to work again after that, and he won't be back until late."

"What does he do for all that time?" I imagined lots of pointless mathematics in a small office and frowned.

Alfred seemed to pause. He turned to place the plate of pancakes in the refrigerator and didn't look at me when he answered. "Master Bruce has a very demanding job."

That was the last I heard of Bruce's job for a while.

Dinner that night was, to sum it up in one word, uncomfortable.

Bruce had rushed in, wrenching off his tie, and accepted a plate of spaghetti from Alfred. He ate it more quickly than I'd ever seen anyone eat, then said, "I need to leave early tonight, Alfred."

"I would think that you wouldn't leave until a bit later tonight, Master Bruce," Alfred replied. I thought I saw him look pointedly at me.

Bruce definitely looked at me, as if he was just noticing I was there. He seemed to consider what to say next. "I have a lot of work to do tonight. I'm sorry, Richard." Well, at least he genuinely looked sorry.

Alfred raised an eyebrow. "Master Bruce, I believe your work can wait for one night."

I wondered why Alfred was being so pushy. I mean, I wasn't that excited to spend time with Bruce. I couldn't explain why. Maybe I didn't want him to replace my parents.

Bruce thought for a minute, seeming to weigh his options. "I suppose it could wait until later."

Alfred smiled at him contentedly, then turned to me. "Why don't you go to the living room to wait for us? I'll clean this up."

I obeyed, but as I left the room, something caught my ear.

"You haven't been giving out new arrival a very warm welcome, Master Bruce."

I decided to stop and eavesdrop. Bruce spoke next. "I know, I know. I just don't have time."

"Which begs the question - why adopt a child when you have no time to raise him?"

Bruce sighed heavily. "I can't just leave him alone, Alfred. But my work can't wait, and you know that."

"I know your responsibilities. But you must think of his feelings! The boy's parents were killed just yesterday, and you know all too well what it's like to lose - Oh, Master Dick?"

Oops. I hadn't payed attention to the voices getting closer to the door. I looked to see Alfred and Bruce exiting the kitchen, both of them staring down at me.

Bruce looked at us both, then his face seemed to fall. "I've got to go to work." He walked off quickly.

Once Bruce had gone, Alfred spoke. "It's quite rude to eavesdrop, Master Dick."

There was only one thing I could think to say. "Why did you say my parents were killed? It was an accident." As soon as he'd said those words, my veins had run cold for two reasons - that someone had wanted to murder my parents, and that Alfred and Bruce knew something they were keeping from me.

Alfred turned white as a sheet. "S-slip of the tongue, Master Dick. Now, off to bed you go." He patted me on the shoulder a few times to shoo me away.

"But it's only seven o'clock!"

"Even so! Go ahead upstairs and get ready for bed," Alfred said insistently. I decided to go ahead and do what he said, knowing I wouldn't win an argument with him.

I woke up in a cold sweat with a gasp. The blanket was sticking to me, feeling as though it was suffocating me. I frantically wrenched it off, breathing deeply.

I checked the clock on the wall, but had to blink a few times when I realized I couldn't see through the tears that formed in my eyes. It was fifteen minutes past midnight. I thought hard. What had my dream been about?

I remembered a few images. The colorful pattern of the circus tent. The feeling of the acrobat's bar beneath my palms. A brush of fingertips as I failed to catch my mother. The sensation of falling. An arm bend too far the wrong way. A vertebra sticking out of my father's neck. Blood on the floor, then on my hands.

I almost leaned over the side of the bed and puked right there. Instead, I jumped out of bed and paced back and forth in front of my bed. I was too afraid to go back to sleep, but still too tired to practice my acrobatics. Besides, when was I gonna get a chance to use them again?

As I dwelled on that sad thought that I wasn't ever going to get to perform my tricks again, my door flew open. There stood Bruce, wearing button up pajamas and looking out of breath. "Richard! What's going on? Are you okay?"

I knotted my brow in confusion. "What do you mean?"

"I heard you screaming! I thought someone broke in!"

"Oh." I hugged my arms to my chest. Had I been screaming in my sleep? I must have been. "No, that was nothing. I'm sorry."

Bruce's shoulders seemed to relax, satisfied that I wasn't in any immediate danger. He stepped further into the room until he was standing directly in front of me, then knelt down to my level. "Are you sure that you're okay?"

I nodded, but my eyes betrayed me by filling up with tears once more. Bruce silently pulled me close to him. I grabbed the fabric of his pajamas and cried for what seemed like hours, but in reality was only a few minutes. Once I had calmed down, I spoke. "Can you read me a bedtime story?"

"Of course." He stood up and turned to a bookshelf that was against the wall. "How about... The Tortoise and the Hare?"

"Okay," I answered. Nobody had read me a bedtime story since I was six, but for that night, I needed it.

I climbed into bed, and Bruce sat down next to me. "Alright, Richard-"

"You can call me Dick."

Bruce nodded. "Alright, Dick. This was one of my favorites when I was a kid..."

I sat there while he read me the story, content and warm for the first time in days. Bruce's voice reminded me of my father's when he had read me stories, and I allowed myself to take comfort in that. When he finished it, I was still awake. We sat there in silence for a few minutes. Bruce must have thought I'd fallen asleep. When he made to get up, I spoke. "Bruce? Do you remember earlier today in the kitchen?"

"Yes, what about it?"

"Alfred said that you knew what it was like to lose your parents."

Bruce's entire body seemed to tense up next to me. "You heard that."

"Yeah." I was curious to know what he was hiding, but I was also afraid to hear him explain.

Bruce turned so that he was facing me. I could only just make out his features in the darkness. His voice was deadly serious when he said, "Have you ever seen Mark of the Zorro?"

It was so far from anything I expected him to say that I almost smiled, but I stopped myself. "No."

"Of course not, it came out when I was eight. I saw that movie with my parents. I was so excited to see it, I was slashing up house plants with sticks weeks before we went. Nearly drove my mother crazy. I remember she was wearing these pearls my father had gotten her for her birthday... They were quite beautiful. Brightest thing I could see that night." Bruce was no longer looking at me, but at the wall behind me.

"We left the theater and cut through an alleyway to get to our car more quickly. It was my idea." He paused. The brief silence was heavy before he continued. "Then, he arrived. His name was Joe Chill, and he had a gun. My father instantly went in front of us, tried to protect my mother and I. Chill wanted money. I don't remember what they said, but when Chill reached out to grab my mother's pearls, my father blocked him. That's when the gun went off."

I was frozen, too afraid to move. "What happened next?" I asked quietly.

"My father fell. My mother screamed, and the gun went off a second time. Chill pointed the gun at me while he grabbed the wallet, but I don't think he had it in him to kill a child. I was left there, alone, with my parents until the police arrived." Bruce looked back at me. "And that's how I know what it's like to lose your parents."

I let his story sink in. I knew, subconsciously, that he had to have been in the audience that night my parents fell, but neither of us had to say it.

I felt the bed shift as Bruce got up. "Goodnight, Dick."

I grabbed his arm before he could. "No. Stay."

Bruce stayed. I lied close to him, already almost falling asleep before Bruce spoke again. "Dick, I promise that I will not replace your father."

"Okay," was all I could say before I lost consciousness.