You guys, I'm so very sorry. It's been what? A week? I've been kind of emotionally drained, and this chapter is sort of pure emotion. School just started back up again and I'm trying to get used to the new rhythm again. Please forgive my super late chapter. Unfortunately, I can't tell you when the next will be up. I have a couple of classes where I have free time, so it could be sooner than later, but of course the rest of the story is pretty much emotional scene after emotional scene. I'm doing my best, so please put up with me for a while longer until this is finished.

As Bruce left the Batcave, two new figures took his place. Batman knew this time would come, but he didn't expect it to hit him so hard. After years of submerging himself in darkness and burdening himself with the hand of justice, the very factor sending him into such a frenzy for vigilantism was climbing down the steps of the cave.

Martha looked exactly how he'd always imagined. Her gray hair turning into a beautiful snow white, pulled back neatly as she always did when around the house. Even when her hair was shorter, she would pin it back. Her face held little wrinkles for someone in their early seventies; most likely due to a wealthy life style. Her eyes were kind and her lips drawn back into a small smile. She was thin, but not overly so. She exuded the gentleness that had always been his mother.

Thomas was still tall and strong despite his old age. His face held more wrinkles than his wife, but instead of kind eyes, his were concerned. His gray hair had streaks of white, but he was not partial to balding, such as Alfred. There was a frown, but not a frown of disappointment or irritation. This was an expression Bruce once knew when he had scraped up his knee or fallen down the staircase one spring morning.

"Hello son," Thomas nodded at him, keeping his distance. Martha followed suit, though her hands were itching to hold him. "You're looking well."

What should he say? What had Dick said when he first saw his parents? What could he say to his lost loved ones? Often he's pondered the thought while visiting their graves. If he's had five more minutes with them, what would he have said?

Martha shot forward and enveloped him in a hug. It was different, being hugged by his mother at this age. Her softness relaxed him and he stood there, waiting until she pulled away. She reached up and caressed his cheek.

"You've been in need of this for a while, from what we've heard." Martha spoke softly. "Dick's been a wonderful boy and he's told us everything."

"You understand it wasn't your fault, right?" Thomas put a hand on his son's arm. "That night was a tragic one, but we're glad you survived it. Alfred's been taking good care of you?"

Bruce finally found himself answering shakily. "More than you know."

Thomas smiled. "Good man, that Alfred."

"Bruce," Martha pulled her hand back, and her soft features hardened up a bit, "we understand that life has been hard for you, but we don't understand a few things."

"Dick is a child; this you know and I'm sure you've already heard this. You're a grown man, and you make your own decisions, but Dick isn't yet grown. He needs someone he can look up to. He needs a father."

Bruce had just had this talk—at least until the word father was mentioned.

"The entire time Dick's been here, we've only heard him call you Bruce. You took him in, didn't you? Why haven't you adopted him?" Martha looked almost hurt as she asked him.

Bruce took a moment of silence. "He already has a father. We work better without determined roles. He understands—"

"No, I don't think he does." Thomas interrupted. "Bruce, he's cautious, far too cautious for a kid his age. We spent nearly a week trying to convince him it was okay to live here. He snuck into the house when he couldn't take the cold. He made himself sick, sleeping outside in the snow. In his fevered sleep, he was constantly apologizing; whether it was to his parents or Batman, it was the same grief. He was afraid to get this Bruce involved in this. He was afraid, Bruce."

Bruce hadn't expected that. He felt sick himself, hearing about this. Just how much had his little boy suffered this past year? Bruce nearly broke down completely after the first week. He wanted to give up on everything; being Batman, leading his company, even being inside of that manor with no one but an equally grieving Alfred.

Dick meant the world to both of them. Alfred didn't think he noticed, but the tea was salty. The salt from the old man's tears was noticeable in his tea and it only hurt Bruce more. Between Superman, Flash, Green Arrow, Black Canary, and Wonder Woman, he'd heard enough to throw in the towel. The only thing keeping him alive, at this point, was the determination to fix what he'd broken—to find what he'd lost.

Now Dick lay critically injured upstairs. He was lucky Young Justice had decided to sneak into the portal. Without them, Dick could have very well been dead by the time Bruce had even gotten a third of the way through the rubble.

"We love you, Bruce," Martha grabbed his gloved hand and squeezed, "don't you forget it."

"But just as we love you, son, Dick needs to know as well." Thomas nodded towards the door. "He's waiting for you. You'd best pay Mary and John a visit as well, to ask for custody properly."

Bruce numbly walked towards the cave entrance. This was not how he'd imagined seeing his parents again would have been like, but matters with Dick came first. He was sure he would speak to them on a more personal basis after he righted his wrong.

Looking back, he saw both of his parents giving reassuring nods. They were right. Dick needed a father, someone to depend on. Had Bruce actually adopted Dick, he was sure he would never have said what he had. Fathers looked at their sons differently than older partners did younger.

He could only hope Dick would forgive him; give him a chance to patch things up. Doubt suddenly filled him, the same doubt that surfaced when he'd first decided to take the boy in. Why would Dick want him as more than just a partner? Why would Dick need him as a father, when his own was far better?

Bruce never got a new set of parents. He had only Alfred…

Alfred never adopted him, but raised him like a son anyways. Would Bruce have felt less alone if Alfred had adopted him? Would he have felt a sense of family, instead of a glimpse of friendship? Why couldn't Bruce provide more of a comfort to this boy who had brought back a sense of family to the Wayne Manor?

Pushing away the doubt, Bruce replaced it with resolve. He would make things right and he would make sure Dick never felt the feelings Bruce did while growing up. He'd failed to do so thus far, but he would put an end to it.

JuJu, I live in Washington State. Do you live in California? Or Oregon? Or maybe same state as me? Let me know if you feel comfortable revealing it. I'm not asking specifics, so just the state will do.

Maskedmidnightninja, thanks for your review. You're sweet, and I'm glad you decided to let me know what you think.

amozon28, thank you for comforting me in the late chapter, but i feel your comfort was wasted since I took a long leave of absence like right after you sent it to me. Much appreciated anyways!

Thanks to everyone else for reviewing. I'm glad you are all okay with there not being any set pairings within this story. I might write pairings in the future, but for now, I'm sticking with just general stuff. Thanks for being so supportive and once again I'm sorry for the long wait.