Hey guys I'm back! Sorry about the wait, life is insane! Everything got super super busy and I totally lost it. (Not literally, that happened a long time ago) Anywho, next chappie is up and ready to be read by you lovely readers!

Red Kite: Disclaimer again? Ugh. As if they don't know you don't have the skill to create characters like Batman

Me: HEY!

Robin: What about me?

Red Kite: You're easy, just stick a black wig on any random hot underwear model and we've got you, I mean seriously, it took, like, three decades for you to lose the panties

Robin: You little b****!

Me: Cat fight

Red Kite: You too

Robin: I'm gonna-wait...did you just say I was a hot model?

Red Kite: What?! N-no that is so not what I me-

Robin: You so did! And here I was beginning to think your eye-sight wasn't good enough for those gorgeous blue orbs

Me: Damn, you two don't even need my help to flirt

Red Kite *blushing*: Can we just get on with the disclaimer already?

Robin: I thought you didn't want to do the disclaimer

Red Kite: Ugh! Batfan doesn't own any characters but me! Ok get on without the story!

Me: Ok ok. Here ya go!

Chapter 7: Richard Grayson

After KF told them that they'd gotten the children to safety, handing them over to the police, they headed back to the tower. Red Kite was silent the entire flight and ignored every one of the others and their irritating questions. She didn't need that right now. The moment they reached the tower she teleported back to Gotham without even saying goodbye.

Back in the relative safety of the warehouse, she changed into comfortable sweats and a tee-shirt and tried to relax. She needed to relax, she could feel her heart rate speeding up. Thank God she didn't work on Saturday. It was already one a.m. She'd trained herself to sleep in pretty much any position. Tonight, she slept leaning against the wall, one leg hanging over the beam, the other stretched out. She then closed her eyes and tried to block out the world.

She knelt in the Gotham Cemetery, gazing at the three gravestones. Dry-eyed and expressionless. She'd asked for a few minutes alone, before the police took her to an orphan home or something.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, tears falling, unbidden. "I'm so, so, sorry. I should have warned you, I should have saved you."

Mom, Dad, James...all dead. All gone. Because of her.

She closed her eyes. Slowly taking in shaky breaths, she climbed to her feet, scrubbing away the

tears. "I promise I'll set this right. I'll find the people who did this to you," she whispered, fire burning in her young

eyes. "I promise."

She stood, turning. She bit back a scream at the sight of the tall man, he had a gun trained on her. He shoved a cloth onto her face and everything went black...

...

...She came to slowly. Opening her eyes to a dark, dank room. Her hands were chained to the floor. The door opened and a big man walked in. She shrank back fearfully.

"You're a special order," he said. "Someone's payin' a lot of money for you. Why I don't know, but hey, as long as I get my green." He grabbed her chin roughly. "I can't see what's so special."

She was little, but her baby teeth were sharp, she bit down on his hand as hard as she could.

He shouted, jumping back. "You're lucky I'm getting such a good price, or I'd just kill you."

She tried to appear unafraid. "Bastard," she spat. "I know who you are, you were the one who killed my family. I'll make you pay."

He laughed nastily. "Apparently you don't understand your situation. I could snap your neck like a twig. Or put a bullet in you, like your mommy and daddy and brother."

"You won't though. Someday I'll make you pay. I'll kill you."

He laughed again. "I sincerely doubt that." She struggled weakly at the chains. "But just to make sure you don't try and escape..." He threw something. She cried out in pain as a knife embedded itself in her shoulder.

In the days that followed, only one thought in her young mind held her together, the thought that some day, somehow, she would kill the man responsible for their deaths.

A few days later, Scarlet found herself in a too-short skirt in the courtyard of Gotham Academy. She took deep breath, hitching her bag higher up on her shoulders. She knew how to keep a low profile, it came with the job. She made sure to get there a few minutes early.

She sat quietly at her desk, doodling on a piece of scrap paper. A little memory popped into her mind, one of the few good ones.

"You're a good drawer." She smiled at her friend.

"Thanks. I'll get better."

"Draw a picture of Tezina," he said.

She proceeded to draw a picture of the siamese cat. It was pretty good, for a six year old.

She shook her head to clear it. That was a long time ago. Students filed in, one in particular caught her attention as he sat down at the desk beside her.

"New here huh?" Richard Grayson said with a wink.

She rolled her eyes. "Obviously."

He chuckled. "Sarcasm, I like it, Kara." He tried the name out, saying it once more. He pursed his lips.

"Hmm, doesn't quite suit you."

"Why the sudden interest?" she asked, leaning back in her chair.

He shrugged. "You are going to my school."

"Possessive much?" She smirked.

"You have no idea."

A few hours later, Scarlet found herself walking through the halls, searching dismally for her bio class. She couldn't remember where the classroom was and the few people she'd tried asking had turned up their powdered rich-kid noses and ignored her. She paused near a trio of giggling painted dolls. The halls were almost empty, most of the teens gone to their next classes. She didn't want to talk to the brats but she was going to be late if she didn't. She sighed slightly and approached.

"Hey, do any of you know where-"

"Oh, you're the little charity case."

She blinked. "Excuse me?" She recognized the girl who'd spoken as someone from her gym class. She was a girl from one of the elite families of Gotham, also a very popular girl that got good grades, was gorgeous, and was trying to get Dick Grayson to go out with her. Her name was Donna Glade.

School gossip. Gotta love it.

"The one Bruce Wayne gave the scholarship to," Glade said. "A pity you couldn't have been prettier."

She resisted the urge to roll her eyes at the shallowness. "Hey I'm just lookin' for my class."

Glade glared at her suddenly. "I saw you talking to Richard, let me warn you, he is my boyfriend, and no charity case is going to change that. And sorry sweetheart, but you're not good enough to be his anyway." Oh so she feels threatened. Ha!

She made a mockingly sorrowful face. "I would be so so offended... if I gave a fuck what you thought anyway."

Whoops, there went getting directions to her classroom.

Glade reddened. "Don't get smart with me girl-"

"I would but you'd have to have a brain to understand," she replied with a pitying look. The girl flushed. "Oh did that hurt? Maybe you should think once in a while and be more careful who you pick a fight with sweetheart." She walked past the glaring teen with a wave of her hand, suddenly a foot hooked around her ankle and knocked her balance out, she almost went into a handstand and did a back-kick to the bitch's face, then she realized a fifteen year old high school student wouldn't be able to do that so she mentally sighed and began to fall.

But she didn't. She looked up in slight confusion at the handsome teen that caught her.

Handsome? I've never noticed stuff like that before.

"Careful gorgeous."

She rolled her eyes.

Glade looked appalled. "Richard!"

She straightened up and dusted off nonexistent dirt from her mini-skirt. "Donna was just telling me that you two were dating," she said.

Grayson raised an eyebrow. "I'm sorry to say I wasn't informed."

Glade was crimson in embarrassment. "I-er, I didn't, you miss-heard."

She cocked an eyebrow at the very embarrassed girl. "I see." She smirked mentally and turned to Grayson. "Would you possibly give me directions to the bio classroom?" she asked. "It's my next class and I'm almost late."

"What a coincidence, bio is also my next class, I'd be happy to show you the way," he said.

She hook her arm through his and turned away from the trio. "That would be awesome." As they walked away she glanced back at the infuriated Glade and gave a devilish wink. Next time be more careful who you mess with.

Scarlet looked over the crappy apartment room she'd managed to get for cheep and heaved a sigh. It was filthy. The windows were cracked, the wall paint was peeling off and the door rocked and creaked on its hinges. But... it was a roof over her head and the only thing she could afford, only two hundred dollars a month because it was located right next to the famous Crime Alley.

She tossed her bag on the floor and flopped down on the bed, it creaked beneath her weight and a cloud of dust came up around her. She sighed again. She rubbed her eyes wearily, they came back dusted brown. Her concealer was coming off.

Her phone buzzed and she picked it up. "Madison residence."

"Hey Red."

She rolled her eyes.

"I'm not even going to ask how you got this number Grayson," she said, too tired for irritation.

"Probably good."

"What exactly do you want?"

"I was nominated to call and ask if you wanted to have Thanksgiving at the mansion."

"Thanksgiving?"

"Yeah."

No way in hell. "Maybe. Who's idea is this?" she asked.

"Alfred." She'd only ever heard about the butler, but she'd only heard good things. That didn't mean she was going. There was a loud bang from the room one door down. She closed her eyes for a moment, then opened them.

"I'll think about it, I gotta go."

"Ok, bye."

"Bye."

She stuck the phone in her pocket and exited her room. There were several shouts from the room next to hers. She was about to knock when it was shoved open and someone fell out onto her. She caught them on instinct as the door slammed shut again.

The person was a young boy, maybe ten or eleven. He was small and scrawny, but he had a defiant glare in his eyes. His clothes were practically rags. He had red hair and green eyes.

"You okay kid?" she asked with a voice gentler than any she'd used in months. He practically jumped out of her arms.

"I'm fine," he said angrily, wiping his bloody nose. He had a gash on his cheek that was bleeding profusely.

"Come with me," she said. "I can help you with that cut."

"I don't need your help," he practically spat, backing up.

She sighed in exasperation. "Yes you do, if it doesn't get treated than it'll get infected. I can help you, I won't hurt you."

"You know those movies where they say they're not gonna hurt you...then you're dead?" he snarked. "Yeah I don't think so. Thanks but no thanks."

She rolled her eyes. "Come on."

He stared at her defiantly. She went back into her room, leaving the door open. She went into the kitchen where she kept her first-aid kit and pulled it out of the cupboard.

The kid slowly stepped in, looking around as if searching for danger, which he probably was. The things Gotham did to people.

"Sit right there," she directed, pointing to the stool. He hesitated. "Look kid, if you want that to get infected, be my guest." He glared at her but sat down.

"Why the hell are you helping me?" he asked.

She looked at him. "What do you mean?"

"Why. Are. You. Helping. Me?" he asked it slowly, as if speaking to someone with brain damage.

She shrugged. "You need help."

"Do you know how to do that?" he asked, eyeing the first-aid kit warily.

She rolled her eyes. "Duh, my mom's a nurse."

"Where is she?" he asked, looking around.

She bit her lip. "Out. Now hold still." She wiped the dirt and blood from the cut, frowning.

"How did you get this?"

His eyes darkened. "I don't have the best father in the world if ya hadn't noticed."

"Ah." She grimaced. "You may need stitches for that. It's pretty deep. What'd you get hit with, a crowbar?"

"Do you know how to do that?" he asked again, ignoring her second question. She nodded. "Maybe we should wait for you mom."

She shook her head. "They won't be home for hours."

He got off the chair, starting to leave. "I don't need any help, I'm fine."

She rolled her eyes. "Come back here right now. Open your ears kid, that will get infected, and then I might not be able to help."

"Nobody does anyway," he muttered.

She sighed. "Come on, the stitches will hurt, I don't have any numbing stuff or anything, but it'll be better. And we both know that you won't be going to the hospital."

He sighed slightly. "Your mom isn't a nurse, is she? Do you even have a mom?"

The needle she held between her fingers snapped. "What?"

"If she was a nurse, you'd probably want to wait for her," he pointed out. "And if she was alive, this place wouldn't be so bare and ratty."

She looked around at the two pieces of moth-eaten furniture. The bedroom wasn't any better.

"Regardless, I still know how to patch you up," she said. "I've been doing it to myself for years."

She internally cursed herself for slipping up on the last sentence as she tossed the broken needle in the trash.

He looked at her quizzically. "What do you mean?"

"Just sit down so I can help you," she said in exasperation. He slowly obeyed, obviously curious. "I'm not gonna lie, this is gonna hurt," she said.

He nodded. "That's okay."

She raised an eyebrow, but let it slide. She dabbed at the cut with antiseptic, he sucked in a sharp breath. She threaded a new needle and stitched up the cut with practiced efficiency.

"There, done."

"Thanks," he mumbled.

"You're welcome."

"You said you've been patching yourself up for years, why? Family?"

She thought back on her mentor. "Sort of."

"Is that what happened there?" He pointed to her eye. Her eyes widened. The makeup! She cursed her thoughtlessness. But she looked the kid in his green eyes nonetheless.

"Er, yeah." She bit her lip.

"How old are you?" he asked suddenly.

She looked at him in surprise. "Almost fifteen."

He frowned. "Hmm. I should probably go," he said, backing towards the door. "Bye."

"My name is Kara Madison, by the way," she said.

He called over his shoulder. "Jason Todd." He waved. She waved back as she closed the door behind him.

When silence reigned once more she wandered into the bathroom, it was as crappy as the rest of the apartment, but when she turned on the water she found it to be warm. That was a definite plus. She shut off the water and turned, then halted, gazing into the cracked mirror. She traced the scar that ran from her eyebrow to below her cheekbone. When she was out, she had it concealed with makeup, when she was fighting, her mask covered it. She was the only person alive who knew about it. Besides Deathstroke anyway.

And now this kid, Jason, had seen it. She felt a sort of connection, maybe because they both have crappy home-lives, maybe because he seemed so alone. Whatever the case, she resolved to try and help him. It wouldn't be easy, she could see the brokenness in his eyes, he was hurt in more ways than one. But she understood.

She could help.

And so chapter 7 meets it's finish. I'll probably be updating every Friday, but... more reviews make me update faster... PLEASE REVIEW

Enjoy the weekend!

P.S. I'm sorry about the update screw-up, this chapter is actually 7