A/N: Thanks for commenting, JessicaRae95, hueningplushie, and She'sBatman! :)

Three hours later:

Pete came back, although a little later than he had anticipated, and was pleased to find that Dick was ready to go. He had come with nothing, so he was leaving with nothing. His clothes had been thrown away, so Pete delivered him to the orphanage in a detention center uniform.

The director, Dave, took one look at the uniform, the tousled hair, the small but noticeable limp, the general unkemptness, and the small cast. Internally, he sighed. His orphanage was overflowing, he had no space for another troublemaker.

Pete crouched down in front of Dick and said, "I think you'll be much happier here. Dave is nice, and he'll take care of you. Be good, okay? I'll have Miss Valentia come check on you soon."

With that, Pete stood up, thanked Dave for taking the nine-year-old at the last minute, and left. It was Dave's turn to crouch in front of the boy.

"I don't need any more trouble here, understand?"

Dick, who was nervously biting his bottom lip, nodded. Dave was a giant of a man – six foot six with a touch of fat beginning to take over the muscular frame. He was intimidating, but he had a soft heart. The nine-year-old couldn't see the heart, he only saw a man who slightly resembled a fear-provoking guard. Dave, however, was much bigger than Ron.

"I also don't have any beds, but I do have some extra blankets. You can have two, one for under you and one to cover you. The floor's not very comfortable, but at least you have a place to sleep. Do you have any other clothes?"

Dick shook his head.

"I'll get you some things from the leftover bin. Pretty sure we have at least one pair of pants in your size. Maybe a shirt or two. How long have you been an orphan and why were you in the detention center?"

The nine-year-old was terrified, a feeling he was still very familiar with, and wanted nothing to do with this new man. So, he dropped his eyes to the ground and shrugged.

"Are you a mute, kid, or are you just scared?"

Dick glanced up, and Dave saw the fear before the boy looked away. The director wasn't sure if the nine-year-old was scared of him, or of the orphanage, or both. Probably both, he decided when Dick remained quiet.

"Have you ever been in an orphanage?" Dave inquired.

Another shake of the head was the only response.

"Okay, kid, I need you to look at me so I can explain some things."

Dick obediently raised his head and stared straight into Dave's eyes.

"You don't make trouble for me, I don't make trouble for you. Here's my best piece of advice: stay away from the older kids. You're the new guy, and they'll want to initiate you, so keep yourself as small as possible for at least a week. Someone else will come in and their attention will shift to whoever that is, so then you'll be fine."

The nine-year-old nodded again, and Dave sighed. He hated having to warn the new kids, but it was better than allowing them to be trapped and beaten because they hadn't known what was coming.

"Come on, let's go find you a spot to sleep. I'll grab some blankets on the way. Dinner's over, but you probably already ate anyway so you can last until breakfast."

He didn't wait for an answer, so he didn't know that Dick had spent the last three hours of his time in the detention center sitting at a table in the visiting room. It was almost seven o'clock – lunch had been eight hours ago – and Dick was hungry. But, it was another feeling he was used to, so he let the comment go.

Standing up again, Dave picked up Dick's right hand and led him up a set of stairs. They entered a short hallway, and the man stopped at a cupboard. Dropping Dick's hand, he opened the cupboard and pulled out two small blankets. Then he led nine-year-old through the first door on the left and across the room to a corner.

There were sixteen small bunkbeds, and there was a kid on every single mattress. Dave spread one of the blankets on the planks of wood that made up the floor, then put the other one in Dick's arms.

"Lights out on this floor in half an hour. You can go introduce yourself if you want; the older boys are one floor up so you don't have to worry about them tonight. See you in the morning."

With that, Dave turned around and left. The other kids were all staring, and Dick tried to make himself as small as possible by sitting down and pushing his body into the corner. He covered himself with the thin blanket and attempted to disappear. After five minutes the kids got bored of watching him sit there, so they returned to their conversations and began ignoring him.

The detention center:

"He's…gone?!"

Tank was talking to the guard who checked people in and out of the visiting room. After dropping Dick off, he had been called back to the infirmary because of another fight. Two boys, both badly beaten, and his hands had been full all afternoon.

The nurse had finally been able to return to the visiting room around six, hoping Dick was still in there and had not been taken to his normal cell. Or even to dinner, where Sam would obviously get ahold of the boy again.

When he had opened the door, the room had been empty. The guard had called him over before Tank could turn around and leave, so he was currently at the man's desk.

"Yeah, some guy came and took him about fifteen minutes ago. Same guy who came to visit earlier today. Don't know where they went, but he signed the kid out for good."

"What about the warden?" Tank asked.

"That's the weird part," the guard replied. "He literally said, 'screw the warden' and then walked the kid out the door."

Tank's mouth dropped open in surprise. Who had enough clout in Gotham City to be able to say and do that?

"Was it Bruce Wayne?"

"Nope, some guy I've never seen before. Not my job to find out who."

"Yeah," Tank mumbled before turning around and leaving.

"What about his wrist and his shin and his overall general condition?" the nurse wondered aloud as he strode back to his office. "I hope he's going to a doctor before landing wherever the guy is taking him."

One week later:

The orphanage was better than the detention center, but not by much. Dick was not a problem child so he was generally ignored. It wasn't on purpose, but Dave was short on staff and had little time to deal with the kids who didn't make trouble.

Neither Dave nor Pete knew about the bump on Dick's right shin, and the nine-year-old was too scared to mention it. He also didn't mention the fact that the cast on his left wrist was falling apart, and that his ribs still hurt, and that he had a constant headache. In fact, Dick hadn't said a single word to anybody.

The older kids had, surprisingly, left him alone after only one day. They had toppled over his breakfast and eaten his lunch, but got bored when Dick didn't react. He was old news, and nobody cared about him anymore.

Bruce had asked about him, but Pete had declined to tell him anything. He was, after all, vetting the millionaire, and telling him where to find the boy would not accomplish anything. So, Bruce had something new to worry about, but at least the nine-year-old was no longer in the detention center and under the control of Sam.

Victoria had been told to check on the boy, and was very reluctant, but finally went to see him. She asked one of Dave's assistants to bring the nine-year-old to the cafeteria when she arrived at about two in the afternoon. Five minutes later, Dick was sitting across from her.

She stared at him, looking for any signs of injuries, and found nothing. There was no bruising, or blood, or bumps on his head, or anything else. He was pale and thin, but most kids living in an orphanage were pretty skinny. Victoria was pleased that she didn't have to waste her time by taking him to a doctor.

"So, how are you doing?" she asked, attempting to make herself sound genuinely interested so she wouldn't get in trouble with Pete.

Dick, whose eyes were on the table, shrugged. He didn't trust anyone, and had decided that he was never even going to think about trusting anyone for the rest of his life. There was no point, because the only people who had ever truly cared for him were his parents.

Victoria rolled her eyes, annoyed that she had to be here questioning this 'innocent child'.

"I don't know why you were allowed out of the detention center, but here you are and it's my job to check on you. Therefore, you need to answer my questions. Tell me how you are doing."

Dick glanced up, only to see an expression of anger. She didn't care, so he swung his legs over the bench and turned his back to her.

"Well, I have never had such a rude kid," Victoria stated condescendingly. "Maybe I'll send you back to the detention center and just not tell my boss."

The nine-year-old turned around to face her, and she saw a look of pure terror. Her heart surprisingly softened a little, and she decided to leave him in the orphanage.

"Okay, you can stay," she said with a long-suffering sigh. "I did my job, I checked on you, so hopefully I won't have to see you again. You can go back to whatever you were doing before I came."

Dick nodded and turned around again. As he stood up, he heard her say one more thing, in a voice so quiet that he almost missed it.

"Like probably stealing things."

Unbidden tears slowly filled his eyes as he walked away. Everyone wanted to be done with him, like he was yesterday's trash that had to be thrown away as soon as possible. Even the "concerned" man Mr. Wayne had never come to see him. This was his life now, so there was no point in hoping for anything good to happen.

Two days later – the Batcave:

"I found him!" Batman exclaimed.

The shout startled Alfred, who was just entering the Batcave with a sandwich. He nearly dropped the tray, but was a proper butler and easily recovered from the surprise.

"I'm going to assume you're talking about young Master Grayson, sir."

"Yes, he's in an orphanage not far from here. I should go see how he's doing."

The Manor phone began ringing, and Alfred promptly picked it up.

"Wayne Manor," he stated politely as Batman tore off his cowl. "Yes, please hold."

He passed the phone to Bruce and mouthed, "Mr. Cadovitch, sir."

Nodding, the younger man answered, "Bruce Wayne."

"Bruce, this is Pete. I'm wondering if you're available for a visit tomorrow. Also, and please don't feel like I'm trying to rush you, but have you made a decision regarding the boy?"

"Hi, Pete, good to hear from you. Yes, Alfred and I are both available tomorrow. What time would be best for you?"

Bruce paused, then nodded.

"Ten o'clock is fine. To answer your other question, yes, I have made a decision. I would like to be Dick's guardian, not just his foster parent. I think because of our similar childhood experience, I might be able to help him deal with the grief and pain he is undoubtedly going through.

Pete, I'm going to be completely honest with you about something. I understand that there will be times when one of your employees might need to visit. However, I will not tolerate anyone leading Dick to think that he will have to go back to the detention center, nor will I tolerate any of them talking down to him just because he was a performer in a circus. He is a nine-year-old child who needs both physical and emotional stability, neither of which he will have if he is constantly concerned about those things."

"Thank you for your honesty, Bruce. I want you to know that I had no idea that both Jeff and Victoria felt that way. I have spoken with both of them, and they are on probation. No child should be made to feel as if he is a criminal just because of his background. In fact, Victoria went to visit him a day or two ago. She said he looks fine, has no injuries, and was very polite. I'll see you tomorrow, Bruce."

Pete hung up, and Bruce did the same on his end. The millionaire stared at the phone for nearly a minute, the next to last sentence replaying in his mind several times.

"Master Bruce?" Alfred finally inquired. "Is everything okay, sir?"

"Victoria told Pete that Dick 'looks fine, has no injuries, and was very polite'. There is no way that woman would change her opinion of him in one week. When Batman was in her office, she called Dick a thief, even though she knew nothing about him except that he was in a circus. I can't – I don't – trust her judgement. I doubt he looks fine."

"Am I to assume that Batman is going to go check on him, sir?"

"Yes, tonight. If he's been beaten again by older kids, I might do something we will all regret," the younger man growled as he put his cowl back on. "If it turns me into a vigilante instead of a duly deputized agent of the law, so be it."

Alfred sighed and said, "Please do not do anything rash, sir."

Ignoring the request, Batman turned to the Batcomputer and began to research the orphanage where Dick was allegedly living.

Later that night:

The orphanage was completely dark when Batman arrived. He decided to Bat-climb his way to the second floor, where he could see an open window. Quietly, he slipped through the narrow opening and silently made his way around the room. There was a kid on every bed, and they looked to be about Dick's age. However, none of the kids even slightly resembled Dick Grayson.

Maybe he was on the wrong floor, or in the wrong section. Maybe there was another room with another set of bunkbeds and kids. Batman glanced around the room one last time. Sixteen bunkbeds, a few dressers, and a pile of blankets in a corner. No nine-year-old boy with dark hair and light-blue eyes that were always full of pain.

Batman walked through the entire orphanage – third floor, fourth floor, and back to the second – but found no sign of Dick. He went down to the first floor, but it was the lobby, kitchen, cafeteria, director's office, and staff offices. No sign of Dick in any of those places.

Frustrated, the hero went back up to the second floor. He slipped out the window and Bat-climbed his way down the wall. With one last glance at the dark building, the Caped Crusader returned to the Batmobile and drove away.

Wayne Manor – 10AM:

Pete rang the doorbell precisely at ten, and Alfred promptly opened the door.

"Good morning, Mr. Cadovitch. Master Bruce is in the living room. Please, follow me."

The butler led the man into a bright room filled with elegant furniture. Bruce stood up to greet him, they shook hands, and then both sat down on the couch.

"You have a very nice house, Bruce."

"Thank you, Pete."

"This is an official visit, so I'll need to see the entire house. I don't care if your bathroom isn't clean, or if there's a layer of dust on the mantel of the fireplace. I'm only looking for safety concerns."

Bruce glanced at the entrance to the room, where Alfred was standing with a scandalized look on his face. The millionaire internally chuckled; the butler was offended that Pete would think anything was even remotely dirty in Wayne Manor.

"Of course, Pete, I'll give you the grand tour myself. Shall we start in the kitchen?"

Standing up, Bruce led Pete out into the hallway and across the marble floor of the expansive entrance. As they walked by the study, Bruce caught Alfred's eye and discreetly flicked his head in the direction of the room. The butler immediately understood, and waited until the younger men were in the kitchen before going into the study to hide the Batphone.

The 'grand tour' took almost ninety minutes, because Pete stopped to flick on and off every light switch, turn on every faucet, and check all the outlets for any sign of overuse. When he was satisfied, the men went to the dining room, where Alfred had lunch ready.

"Well, Bruce, you have a well-kept house."

"I can't take credit for much of it, Pete. Alfred keeps things ship-shape around here."

"Thank you, Master Bruce," the butler commented politely as he retreated to the kitchen.

"I have a confession to make, Bruce."

The man paused, and the millionaire motioned for him to continue.

"I may have pushed the paperwork through a little faster than normal. This visit is actually the last thing I needed in order to release Dick into your custody. When I go back to the office, I'll sign your approval notice and we can go get Dick tomorrow."

Bruce's eyes widened in shock. Pete had said several weeks, but it hadn't even been two yet!

Pete noticed the expression and quickly backtracked.

"I'm sorry, Bruce, is it too soon? He can stay where he's at for another week or two, if that's what you need."

"No, no, it's fine," the millionaire replied quickly. "I'm just surprised at the speed."

"Yes, well, usually it takes about at least month once the process gets started. But, like I said, I pushed hard on this one. Because of everything that has happened, I feel like Dick needs stability now. He probably doesn't feel very stable in an orphanage."

Bruce hesitated, second-guessing himself again. It only lasted a moment, and then he took a deep breath.

"Okay, where do you want me to meet you tomorrow in order to pick him up?"

"I can just bring him over here if that would be easier. I know you're a busy man. Would four o'clock be okay?"

"Yes, I can be home by four tomorrow."

"Okay," Pete echoed as he stood up and prepared to leave. "Dick and I will see you tomorrow at four. You might want to buy a few things before he arrives. I know he's using clothes from the leftover bin at the orphanage because he doesn't have any of his own."

Bruce was taken aback, and his eyes widened in surprise.

"Didn't he bring any from the circus?" he asked.

"Jeff took him that night and never went back to get anything. The circus left the next day anyway. He has…" Pete held out his hands and shrugged, "…nothing."

"Good heavens!" Alfred murmured from the doorway.

"I'll see myself out," Pete stated, knowing that the other two men would need to discuss some things.

He tipped his head at the butler, shook Bruce's hand, and headed for the front door.

"Tomorrow, Alfred," Bruce said quietly. "He'll be here in time for dinner tomorrow."

The younger man paused, and the butler waited patiently.

"Am I doing the right thing?" Bruce asked, glancing at the front door then turning his gaze to Alfred.

"Sir, it is a little too late to be asking that question. However, yes, I believe you are doing the right thing, Master Bruce. I am confident that you will be able to help Master Dick in many ways. And, perhaps, he will find a way to help you as well, sir."

"He's nine, Alfred, he doesn't need to find a way to help me."

"You misunderstand me, Master Bruce. But you will begin to understand as time passes."

Maybe a child will be able to crack open that wall around your heart.

Alfred kept that thought to himself. With a polite nod, the butler went to the kitchen to begin tidying up.