Officer Grayson sighed, "Listen, Andy, I know you don't trust me very much. But trust me on this, there's no honor amongst thieves. Any of them would rat you out given a good enough deal. I'm sure you have soe family out there, someone who would miss you if we locked you up. I don't want to do that, but you have to give the DA a reason to spare you."

I glared at him. Tripp wasn't exactly something that capes would worry themselves over. Nothing like Penguin, or Scarecrow, or even Two Face. Tripp isn't making the market for these guns, drugs, or stolen car parts. The afore mentioned heavy hitters are. Tripp is just observing the market, and advising kids who have no other way to make ends meet how to play the field. Tripp is about as good of a guy as you get in Gotham. He genuinely cared about the kids he helped.

"I'm not telling you anything about anyone." I said, leaning back in my chair. The ball is in my court right now. I know that no cop saw me touch any drugs or guns. So they have no way to connect me to the deal that almost went down tonight. All they could get me on was attacking two cops with tear gas and assaulting Officer Grayson. The first two cops probably couldn't pick me out of a line up if asked to, seeing how dark it was in that alley, and how tear gas had probably caused their eyes to shut.

One charge of assault against a cop, against a minor. I almost wanted to smirk. I'd be out in a few months, and Juvenile Hall wasn't as bad as most parents wanted their kids to think.

"Andy, just give me a name, and I can get you off these charges." Officer Grayson pressed.

There was a knock on the glass, and the door opened. A cop who looked like something out of a TV show walked in, a file in his hands. He was chubby, mid forties, graying hair, and a face with wrinkles that showed so many frown lines, it concerned me. "Might as well end it, Grayson."

Officer Grayson turned around, and through the reflection in the mirror, I could tell he was trying very hard not to glare. "Detective Fisher?"

Detective Fisher ignored Grayson, setting the file down in front of me. "Ya know what that is?"

"I haven't read it, so obviously not." I snapped back. I already hated this guy. I normally didn't like cops in general, but it was more than that. Grayson was a decent guy, so far, and I respected that. He was trying to do his job, and unlike most of the cops outside of this interrogation room, he wasn't trying to break my arm, or my nose to get me to talk.

Tripp was firm about teaching us one thing. Not every cop is bad. Most are. But the ones that treat you respectfully, the ones who are decent towards you, respect them back. Don't give them a hard time. It was his way of teaching us manners, I guess.

"This right here, is you're fucking life, ya gutter rat." Grayson really didn't seem to like this development, but he kept his mouth shut. He was an officer, but this guy was a detective. "Grayson here was wrong, ya ain't got no family. Little disappointment here, was found on the steps of a group home, only a week old. Mom was probably some dried out hooker, couldn't make enough money on her back to feed the failed abortion you were. On top of that, yer name isn't Andy."

Oh no. No, no, no. The anger that had been bubbling to the surface was cooled with a huge dose of fear. This was always what I feared most about getting caught. I was terrified of going back to that name, that identity, to the glared of social workers and the hateful spewing words of bigots, screaming of my future in the flames of hell.

"Yer name is Anya, and yer bitchy little ass ran away from yer last foster family, because…" He lifted the folder, opening it to the last page, "They made you go to church."

He tossed the file down in disgust. "Yer a sick fucking kid. Good people take you in, out of the goodness of their hearts, and when they try to teach you right from wrong, your cross dressing ass runs off."

Memorize flash through my mind. They were the Duncan family. A wife, a husband, one son (16 at the time I knew him), and a golden retriever for a dog. Perfect American family. Almost. They wanted the cookie cutter dream of a white picket fence, a wife, a husband, a son, and a daughter.

I was supposed to complete that image. Too bad that when I admitted to them that I was Trans, they went from a loving family to a pack of angry dogs.

I snorted, looking up at Officer Grayson, and ignoring Detective Cunt. "Officer Grayson, next time you're walking down the street, and some 'gutter rat' spits at you, calls you pick, or even throws something at you, calm yourself before you respond. They're only acting that way because a cop who acts like Mr. Cunt over here influenced the pig stereotype."

Before Detective Cunt could respond, I spoke over him. "If the Duncan family really told you all they did was make me go to church, not only are they some of the worst bigots I've ever met, they're lying whores." I leaned back in my chair, letting the front legs lift off the ground. "Church they were at, was one of the really bad ones. Not only thought that homosexual and transgender acts were curable, with what they called 'sexual correction therapy'. In case you're wondering, it's worse than it sounds."

I closed my eyes, remembering the man that had subjected me to that. "Some therapist with no credible degree thought that the reason behind homosexual and transgender people existing, was that the brain got confused, and the way to correct the issue was to force the person into traditional feminine or masculine sex positions."

Officer Grayson looked like he nearly wanted to vomit, and Detective Cunt actually looked a bit ashamed. "They forced me to take my clothes off, held me down, and had their son assume the traditionally masculine role. Before you start making a rape report, he didn't … you know, uh, penetrate or anything. He just kind of… postured up. They made me lay there for two hours. Once they let me up, and let me put my clothes back on, I booked it." I let my chair drop to the ground, put my arms on the table, and rested my chin on my right forearm. "I wasn't ever going to let them do that to me again."

Detective Ashamed Cunt left the room, taking the file with him. His reaction was pretty normal, most people I told about the incident were to disgusted but the idea of it to say anything in response.

Officer Grayson reached across the table, squeezing my hand. "Andy."

I perked up, not used to many adults still using that name after finding out my legal one. "Listen, I'm going to call a friend of mine, alright? He's a social worker, one that I trust. I'm going to talk to him about getting you placed somewhere a bit nicer than your last home."

He got up, walking over to my side of the table. He hugged me, which made me stiffen up, not used to gestures like that at all. He pulled away, grabbing my shoulders and looking me right in the eye. "I'm not going to press charges against you for attacking me. If I recall correctly, I didn't announce myself as a police officer. Anyone would attack a person for pulling a gun on them."

He left the room, and my mouth fell open. I found myself smiling a little, wondering at my luck. Officer Grayson wasn't just a decent cop, he was a pretty outstanding person.

WITH DICK

When I grabbed my cell phone to call the social worker, I nearly balked. Seven missed calls from Raven. No voicemails. Bad sign.

I called her back, and she picked up on the first ring. "Dick!"

"Raven, what's-"

"The girl you picked up tonight, Anya-"

"Raven, his name is Andy."

"The last time I saw her, her name was Anya, and she was only five days old."

I nearly dropped my phone, "Raven?"

"Anya, Andy, whoever that kid is, is Starfire's child. I promised I wouldn't tell, but it's been fifteen years, and she still hasn't come back for her."

"You… you said you didn't know where Starfire went."

"She begged me not to tell anyone, but I don't see much of a choice now. Anya comes first, from here on out. Starfire's planet is caught up in a civil war. I think it's still going through it, because I would sense it if she died, and if she's alive, she should have come back by now."

"You think?!" Dick hissed. "Fifteen years, Raven! You never said anything about this kid…" A sudden thought struck him, panic flooding his system. "Raven… did she tell you who the dad was?"

"No." She whispered. "Dick, promise me, Anya isn't going to jail."

Dick swallowed, "His name is Andy. And I promise, he won't go to jail."

With that he hung up on Raven, and dialed the social worker. No one answered, so Dick left a brief message, explaining Andy's situation, and his history. He ended the message with, "I need you to find him a home that doesn't have any prejudices against people like him."

With that, Dick went to go fill out the paperwork on tonight's bust, making sure he lied enough so Andy wouldn't be able to be charged with anything.

Halfway through, he stopped, and sighed. He allowed himself to whisper a very dangerous combination of words. "Andy… Grayson."