Okay, I can already tell a lot of you are going to smile at this chapter. I'm eager to hear your predictions.

Dick heard voices; lots of loud whispers and low murmurs. The hums of the voices acted as both a means for waking up and a lullaby for sleep. At the moment, he couldn't decide which path he wanted to follow.

"Idiot! Don't touch it!"

"Why, just because you got shocked last time? Todd, you're the idiot."

"Shut up! He's still asleep."

"He's going to wake up sooner or later; might as well be now."

"Damian! Don't—you moron!"

Hands were shaking him then. Robin smirked and in one solid movement grabbed Damian's left arm and forced him face down onto the bed. He forced the arm backwards at such an angle that if Damian so much as twitched his left arm would be dislocated. Dick's knee was on the small of the boy's back and he turned back to the older two.

"Impressive." Damian squeaked from underneath him.

"Let him go." Jason crossed his arms, not looking terribly concerned. "He's a moron, but the brat didn't mean any harm."

Dick looked back down at his captive. Damian was rather gruff looking for being younger than him. The nearly permanent scowl was now a calculating grin. What the boy was happy about, he didn't know. He released Damian, rolling backwards and off of the bed.

It seemed that action didn't help him in the least. His vision blurred and he felt like he was going to hurl. Forcing it back, Dick was more focused on how badly his head throbbed. At least his mask was still on.

"Concussion?" He asked.

"Yeah. It's not too bad." Tim answered. "Alfred said you shouldn't move around a lot for a couple of days."

"I'll be fine in four hours."

If anything, Dick had suffered more than his share of concussions. He knew exactly how long it took to get his body back into whack.

"What's your name?" Damian demanded. "Your real name."

Dick frowned. So they figured out it was merely his alias. Dick decided to ignore his question. He wasn't obligated to tell them anything. Sure, they were Bruce's kids—wait a minute.

"Where's your mom?" Dick asked. "You're Bruce's kids, right? I haven't seen your mom. Does she live here?"

"No." All three answered at the same time.

"We're his adopted kids." Jason bit out. "He's not our real father."

"We're not related by blood." Damian made sure to make that as clear as possible, including over the top hand gestures and slowing down his speech.

Dick felt a little better. So they were in the same boat he was. He noticed his utility belt was on the dresser near Jason. He would have to think of a way to get that back without them noticing.

"We answered your question, now answer one of ours." Tim patted the bed, silently ordering him to sit down.

Dick supposed it couldn't hurt. Abruptly the rest of them were also on Bruce's enormous bed, crowding him.

"Well? What is it?" Tim pushed.

"Dick."

Immediately the three erupted into laughter.

"Seriously?" Jason guffawed. "That's seriously your name?"

"It's short for Richard." Alfred added, coming into the room with a frown on his face. "You three have no business here."

"Alfred, we got him to talk!" Jason grinned. "Mr. Time Traveler is finally answering some questions."

"Time traveler?" Dick scowled. "What are you talking about?"

"We figured it out." Tim answered. "You went back in time and changed something and now you're back in the present."

Dick was mildly impressed. How they managed to figure that out, he'd never know, but it was pretty accurate.

"The future. This is the future." Dick corrected. "Seven years, actually."

"Why?" Damian growled.

"Why what?"

"Why was it you? Why did you change whatever it is you changed? Why are you here? Why can you do those things?"

"Dude, that's a lot of why's." Dick answered. "I don't know if I can answer them all. I'm still trying to figure things out."

Why was he telling them this? What was it about these boys that made him open up? It was the same with Bruce's parents. Something about this future was so… inviting. He didn't feel like running anymore. He felt different around Bruce. Bruce wasn't… wasn't someone he had to prove himself to anymore. He still needed to keep Bruce away from the idea of becoming the Caped Crusader, but as long as he didn't say anything about it, Bruce should be fine. It was hard to do this alone, but that was the reality of the situation.

"What can you answer, young master Richard?" Alfred asked.

"Maybe… maybe it would be better to wait." Dick bit his lip. "I should tell everyone at the same time."

"Fair enough;" Alfred answered before Damian could rudely pretest, "this evening after dinner then. Come along young master Jason, Damian, Tim, we must let him rest."

The boys were ushered out of the room and Dick waited until the door was shut before snatching his utility belt back. Double checking that nothing was stolen from it, he heaved a sigh of relief. Those boys would hurt themselves trying to figure out how to use his "toys".

Kid Flash had wanted to try using his utility belt once. Robin decided to let him try. It was a mess of gadgets gone wrong and the speedster ended up unconscious from using his own knockout gas. It was hilarious. Robin smiled fondly at the memory.

He wondered where Kid Flash was now. It was seven years into the future, so that would make Kid Flash about 22 years old. That was nine years older than himself. Miss Martian was probably the same age and Superboy would be… 7 and a half years old. Physically the clone of the Man of Steel would be in his early twenties. Aqualad and Artemis would be 23. He was so far behind. Well, unless there was somehow another Dick Grayson running around.

Deciding not to think about it too much longer, he laid back and closed his eyes, dreaming of memories of exciting missions and corny puns from villains.

Before he knew it gentle hands shook him. Groaning, he rolled over, one hand clutching the blanket over him tighter and the other swatting at the hands.

"Robin, it's time for dinner." The voice was female and Dick immediately snapped his eyes open.

Martha smiled at him and waited for him to sit up. Dick rubbed the sleep out of his eyes and struggled to remember what he was doing before he fell asleep. It didn't really matter, Martha was beckoning him to come down for dinner and Dick obeyed.

"Tim told me your name is Richard."

"Dick," He answered, stifling a yawn, "my parents called me Dick."

"It's a lovely name." Martha smiled fondly. "Friends of ours named their child Richard. They called him Dick as well."

"Mm." His head still ached, but it wasn't serious. The nap he'd taken had helped—well, it wasn't exactly a nap when he'd been asleep for the last seven hours.

Downstairs Tim and Damian were arguing again, Jason was brooding in the corner, Thomas was reading the newspaper, and Bruce was trying and failing to break up the argument. Once the family had noticed him, it had gone quiet and very awkward.

"Robin, are you feeling any better?"

After spending weeks avoiding Bruce, the itch in his muscles to flee never went away. He nodded, but didn't speak. Alfred announced that dinner was ready and for once, the long table in the dining hall seemed to be filled with people. Usually it was just him and Alfred, who brought him breakfast.

His usual spot was taken by Jason, and while it just didn't seem right, Dick sat at the other side of the table and furthest from Bruce. He didn't fail to notice the disappointed frown on the former vigilante's face. He tried to quell the guilt while shoving his fork into the mashed potatoes.

Dinner was just as awkward. Alfred sat across from him—a strange sight in and of itself, and seemed to be trying to figure out what exactly to say. Dick was grateful no one asked him any questions during dinner. It allowed him some time to think things through. How much was he willing to reveal to Bruce's family?

It hurt to even think of the word. He and Bruce had never really considered themselves as family. It was merely a partnership born of tragedy and grief. He supposed that was the best way to start off. Dinner was over far too soon, and Dick had hardly touched the food. Perhaps that was what Alfred was struggling with. His Alfred would immediately order him to finish breakfast or there would be no breakfast the next morning.

Things were too different.

In the living room, Dick sat by himself in a chair and watched as Bruce's adopted sons sort of scrunched together on one couch and Bruce and his parents sat on another. Alfred stood by the door to the kitchen.

"Alfred, you should probably sit down." Dick called out. To his surprise, Alfred obeyed. "I should probably start off by saying that things right now are a lot different than what I'm used to."

Dick paused, struggling to find the right words to say. He still needed to protect these people—these people who were precious to Bruce now.

"Take your time, Dick." Thomas smiled at him and Dick hurriedly looked down at his hands.

"I just don't know how sane this will all sound to you."

"You mean about the time traveling?" Jason snorted. "The shock has long since worn off."

"No, it's not that." Dick bit his lip. "I mean, I guess I did travel through time; but I didn't mean to. I was just sort of… there. Bruce's parents… you never survived. I was never there to save you and Bruce was left alone."

That in itself was hard to get out. It sank in for the family, but Dick didn't dare look up. He licked his lips and thought of how to continue. This was a lot harder than he thought it would be.

"Go ahead, Robin." Bruce prodded.

"That's where I'll start next. My name isn't Robin. My name is Dick. I go by Robin because… we'll get to that later. Bruce is—was taken care of by Alfred for a long time."

He could hear Alfred take in a short breath. Surely the scenario was playing through his head. Martha and Thomas didn't seem to be very affected by the news, most likely due to his last encounter with them.

Dick continued somberly. "Since the killer was never found, Bruce—the Bruce I knew—decided he was going to stop crime in Gotham. He trained under many people for many years and finally came back home. He became Gotham's protector and he was really good at it."

"A superhero." Damian grinned. "Father had the right idea."

Dick let a small smile cross his lips before frowning again. This was the hardest part.

"I… I lived with my parents. We traveled a lot, and when we were in Gotham for a short while, they were murdered." Dick struggled to compose himself. He missed them. He missed them so much and looking at Bruce's family, he wished he had been able to stop their murder as well. "Bruce he… he saw the whole thing and took me in. I found out about him being the World's Greatest Detective and proved myself worthy to be his partner. We've been partners for five years."

It was the most he could talk about it. Bruce never talked about it, and Dick was glad he never did. It was less painful not to.

"So Father really was a superhero."

"What was his name? Every superhero has a name." Jason grinned. "Yours is Robin, isn't it?"

"Yeah." Dick looked back and him and smiled. "It's what my parents called me."

"You didn't answer." Alfred pointed out. It seemed he, too, was curious.

"There is only one thing that terrifies Bruce Wayne." Dick answered and gave him a look. "Why don't you tell us?"

"Bats." Bruce answered. "You mean I'm… Batman?"

"Batman and Robin." Tim gave a chuckle. "It's kind of catchy; but seriously Dad, Batman?"

"It's because bats are scary." Dick explained. "Bruce wanted to put fear into the hearts of his enemies. It worked, believe me."

"How did you travel back in time?"

Dick's smile fell. He didn't want to remember. It hurt.

"So if Bruce is Batman, who is KF and Miss M?"

Dick blinked. "Oh, those are my teammates. Kid Flash and Miss Martian—"

"Martian?" Damian leapt up to his feet. "Now you're telling me there are people on Mars?"

"Yeah," Dick shrugged, "there's lots of them. Superman is a Kryptonian, so is Superboy."

Dick noticed Tim stiffen. Furrowing his brows, he thought about questioning him, but decided to leave it for another day.

"I thought you and I made up a team?" Bruce asked.

"We do, err, did, it's just… I'm also part of Young Justice. We—Me, KF, Miss M, Superboy," Dick caught the startled expression yet again, "Aqualad, and Artemis, work together on some missions from time to time. I still work here in Gotham."

"It's good to know you had friends." Martha smiled.

Dick looked back down at his shoes. Thinking about them, it reminded him just how different things were now. None of them would know him and they would all be so much older.

"I think I should go to bed." Tim stood and bid them all goodnight before making his way up the stairs.

"Tim's right, it is getting pretty late. Boys, up you go; school bright and early tomorrow." Bruce nodded towards the stairs and reluctantly his other two foster sons followed their brother.

"I'll prepare a bath, Master Bruce." Alfred left the room.

"I'll put the boys to bed." Martha stood and kissed her husband. "Damian can't sleep without you know what."

Thomas smiled. "We should really just get the boy one for Christmas."

"Don't you dare." Bruce warned. "He'll end up training it to attack Tim and Jason. Knowing Jason, he'll kill it and bury it in the backyard after a week. If he doesn't do it, Tim will."

Martha only rolled her eyes and also climbed the stairs. Bruce turned back to Dick, who sat still in the chair. Thomas also eyed the boy, wondering if he should say anything. Bruce realized the boy didn't have a room in the manor.

"You can sleep in one of the guest rooms, Dick, if you'd like. Or if you feel more comfortable in my bed, you can stay there."

Dick didn't answer, his eyes glued to the floor. His hands were starting to shake and he felt sick. The last mission he'd gone on had been disastrous. What had his team thought of him? Batman had been so furious—he started to tear up. Now Bruce was offering up his bed. It didn't feel right. They knew everything now and it was as if he'd never told them in the first place.

"Are you alright?" Bruce gently placed his hand on Dick's forehead. "You've still got a slight fever. Dad, would you…?"

"You'd best do it son, I'm old and slow." Thomas offered a small smile and Bruce left the room, off to get medicine, Dick supposed. "Are you still uncomfortable around him?"

His answer was silence. Perhaps the kid had fallen asleep with his mask on. He hadn't said a word in a few minutes, but the hitching in his breath and the swallowing told him different. The kid was trying not to cry.

"Hey, now, don't you worry." Thomas shuffled his way to Dick and placed a hand on his head, ruffling the dark hair. "We're going to take care of you Dick. You're going to be fine."

Bruce returned with two pills and a glass of water in hand. After a minute of coaxing, Dick took the pills. He refused to move from his spot on the chair, however. Deciding it was best to let Alfred handle it, Thomas went to join his wife in bed. Bruce, however, was ordered by Alfred to take the bath he'd drawn.

"Young Master Richard, you are still recovering. It's best you get some sleep."

"Alfred?" The boy's voice was quiet.

"Yes?"

"What would you do if I told you I'd done something awful?"

Alfred took in a deep breath. "I'd support you in any way I could, as long as you sought to right what you'd done wrong. As long as you were truly suffering from this burden, there really is nothing more I could do."

There was silence, and after a moment, Dick stood. "I'll sleep in one of the guest rooms Alfred. You don't have to prepare it. Thanks for dinner, good night."

"Do not thank me, sir;" Alfred answered immediately, "it is my job. If you are sure, then I suppose I will also turn in for the night. Good night."

Dick collected his things from Bruce's room, including the recently washed Robin suit and crawled into the bed of one of the guest rooms. Sleep evaded him for several hours, but by dawn he'd managed to pass out.

Questions and Answers time!

KKCopper asked how I write so quickly. Truth be told, I already have a good amount of the story written from about 3 weeks ago. I wanted to wait until I knew I could post chapters without being in a super rush to pump out another one. I do, however, write every day. Where you see the line breaks is usually where my stopping point is for the day. Well, in later chapters there are bigger gaps between the breaks, so it makes a bit more sense.

I make time every night to go on about an hour long walk around my neighborhood in the dark. I know that seems a bit scary, but when I'm in the dark I can sort of act out different scenarios without people watching me and wondering what I'm doing. I listen to a lot of background music, but I also listen to pop, rock, and various other types.

I'm curious; do you guys want links or the names of the songs that have inspired the chapter? I would be happy to if you wanted. Sort of set up an optional mood music for the chapter. If you do want it, let me know. Otherwise I'll assume it's not important or silly of me to even offer.

haruhaze made a comment about the Wayne's being geniuses and figuring these things out so quickly. Well, they don't call Batman the Greatest Detective for nothing. I figured Bruce would already have the intelligence and detective skills—maybe not as refined or great as Batman's, but it would still be there. You don't get to be a Robin easily, either.

Thanks so much for your reviews, guys. Once again, let me know if I've screwed up anywhere. Don't forget to tell me whether or not the optional mood music is a good idea or not.