Wow! Thanks for all the reviews! GremlinX: Yeah, I read it over so many times that I missed the mistakes I was hoping to catch. Hopefully, there won't be any in this one!

Well, thank you. 12 reviews on the first Chapter is awesome and I thank you all for the opinions. :) And, don't worry, there will be twists and turns in this story. It won't be just straight forward. ;)

Witch08: Wow, you cried? I suppose the story surpassed the expectations I had for emotions. Sorry, I didn't mean to. But, this one I am going, somewhat anyway, for tears.

I own nothing, not even Woody or Annie.

Don't let your victories go to your head, or your failures go to your heart.- Unknown

Chapter 2:

Richards feet swung freely beneath him.

He pulled at his shirt collar, which he felt was choking him. He was sitting outside of Mr. Haley's trailer, refusing to go asleep. It was, what? Three in the morning? Yeah. Mr. Haley and a few more performers were standing there, comforting the boy when the sobs he was trying to hold back broke free. The young boy had changed out of his performing outfit, seeing it made him cry, and had changed into a green t-shirt and black pants.

His normal bright blue eyes had lost their light, their drive gone, his eyes were red and puffy. They showed no other emotion other than pain. He stared at the ground and wrapped his quilt around him and Peanut snuggled into his chest.

A lady with black hair and rectangular glasses stood by him. The cops were there at the circus as well. The lady wore a black skirt and jacket, with a white blouse shirt underneath. Her pointed black shoes were shining in the moonlight. She leaned over Dick.

"Richard?" She asked quietly, staring at him with pitying and worried eyes. He looked over with his dead blue eyes. They were so deep, like a lake of skies that had rained down and covered the lake with the sky color blue. They were dark though, as if a storm cloud had covered the sky.

"Yes, Mrs. Parker?"

Samantha Parker smiled at his sweet, child-like voice. Her own nephew back in DC was rarely this cute, but, then again, he was eleven. He lost his cuteness when he threw his Woody doll across the living room at Christmas. Samantha, a government official and worked in a branch that covered certain things that need not be mentioned. She worked with an adoption agency as well.

"Are you alright?" Her voice was soft and comforting as she placed a hand on his shoulder. Out of the corner of her eye; Samantha saw Mr. Haley smile sadly. Richard Grayson frowned and stared down at the ground again, his small six year old hands clutching the elephant and blanket like he was afraid they would be gone forever as well.

"I can't get the picture out of my head…" He muttered and chocked, the grotesque picture burned in his mind seemed to have emotions that flowed to Samantha, as she too began to feel loss, and he buried his face in to the crook of her neck. Samantha almost fell back with shock but slowly brought her hand up to pat him in the back. He sounded to broken, so sad. So… angry. It was hard to detect but it was there.

Richard looked up at her. "Where will… where will I go? What will happen?" He asked quietly, his voice barely audibly over the police sirens. Samantha frowned and tried to come up with an answer but found none. She knew that all of the Gotham Adoption agencies were full, which was sad, and didn't know where he would end up. The circus couldn't take him in, they had no legal right.

"I…I don't know," she whispered and he nodded, looking away. Samantha wished she could do more, she really did but… there was only so much one could do.

][][][

Bruce stared down at his desk, frowning.

His coffee was pushed to one side and his hands were over his temples, rubbing occasionally. He looked down at the papers and his frowned deepened. Who cared at Wayne Tech? I mean, he was obligated to care and he did, but right now it was such a simple distraction from what really mattered.

What mattered right now was that boy.

Richard John Grayson, the one who watched his parents fall to their deaths at the age of six. Watched as their bodies fell to the ground and snapped on impact, blood leaking from them. He shivered. It had been horrible, the boys cries, the parents, the panic in the child's face as he watched them fall. And, sadly enough, it was all to familiar. His parents had been shot in front of him, right there. A bullet in their chests.

Sure, it had been dark. But fate was a being a jerk and allowed the moon to shine at full. The blood glinted horribly. But that boy's cry's and screams sounded like he was being tortured. It reminded him of that moonlit color crimson. That's what his cries reminded Bruce of.

Bruce had been there. For heavens sake, he was Batman! He could have saved them! Saved Richard from the pain. But, no, he didn't. He just watched in horror like everyone else as they fell. But, he wasn't everyone else. He was Batman and the entire reason he created Batman was to stop such things from happening!

Why did it happen?

Why was fate cruel to those so young?

"Master Bruce?" A thick accented British voice said, opening the door to Bruce's study. Bruce looked up and rubbed his temple again, quickly washing away his thoughts from his mind. Alfred Pennyworth, the butler for the Wayne family for who knows how long, stood at the door. He was like Bruce's second father, the man who helped him when he lost his parents. The man who was just always there. Alfred always knew what you were thinking, most of the time, and Bruce always wondered how the butler did it.

He learned, of course he did, though. Listen and watch. It was simple as using your senses. And that was what Bruce did. What Batman did. So far, it hadn't failed any of them.

"Yes, Alfred?" He asked, looking up completely now. Alfred had walked in, now standing in front of the oak wood desk. His face and stature were blank and straight, like a proper butler, but the man's eye held questions and possibly answers too.

"I noticed something bothering you when you came in last night. Perhaps you wanted to talk about it?"

Bruce chuckled slightly. Oh Alfred.

But, yes, he did want to talk about it. He wanted to blurt everything he saw and felt. But he didn't, he simply frowned. "I didn't tell you?" He asked the butler. He knew, of course, that he hadn't said a thing. He had walked straight up from the front door to his room, locking himself in. Alfred had watched him and, this morning, had made breakfast for him, not that he did anyways but today it seemed like there was something else behind it. The man had killer cinnamon buns.

"No, Master Bruce, you did not. In fact you rarely said anything at all-" Alfred went on but he paused, waiting for Bruce to cut in and say he was fine and nothing was bothering him. But Bruce said nothing, a silent plea for the butler to continue. Alfred cleared his throat.

"-what exactly happened at the circus. I heard police sirens sir. Was someone hurt?"

Bruce frowned. Hurt was the nicest word you could possibly use to describe that boy. He had seen, last night as he left, the boy with a government agent comforting him. Destroyed was the best thing to say, maybe that didn't even cut it either. The black clouds that covered the boy was filled with tears and loss. His sobs echoed around the circus grounds and his eyes, full of pain and loss and sadness and anger, looked around wildly hoping that maybe, just maybe, they were alive.

No such luck.

"Yes, Alfred, I suppose you could say someone was hurt."

][][][

Richard rubbed the tears away and looked around 'The House'. He could only take a few things to… well, wherever he was going. No one had really told him. The small Superman suit case held some clothes and a picture of his parents. There was a small notebook on the side-desk by his parents bed that he had wanted to take but a Gotham official, not as nearly as nice as Samantha, said he couldn't take it. He didn't know what was in it, but it seemed important. To bad, he really wanted it.

And he couldn't take Peanut. Oh! Poor Peanut! Where would he go? How would he survive! He was just one lone elephant! How would he survive out there! His mother had told him that Gotham City was so dirty, so full of crime that is was considered on of the worst cities next to Bludhaven, which was almost nearly as bad.

"I miss them…" he whimpered to himself and wiped silent tears from his eyes. It hurt to even think about them. He took one last look at the Flying Grayson's poster in the trailer, it hurt to much to call it 'The House', and turned away, tears now flowing freely down his cheeks, leaving lille rugged trails.

"Richard, are you ready?" Mrs. Parker, Samantha asked, opening the door slowly and walking in. She looked around and smiled, it was nice. It would have been a nice place to live. When Samantha noticed the boy she frowned and walked over, kneeling down to his eye level. "Do you think you'll be alright?" She asked, though already knew the answer. Just by looking at him you already knew.

He looked up at her and Samantha practically melted, he looked to sad, so lonely, so ruined. "Oh!" She cried and gave him a small hug, wrapping her arms around him caressingly. He cried, freely, not as much as when he lay over their bodies but not like when he had been in front of everyone else.

He just… simply… cried.

The was a knock on the door and Samantha looked over, expecting Ron Armdons, the Gotham official, but was greeted with a man. He had black hair and blue eyes and a nice suit on. He had a small notepad in his hands.

Reporter.

Samantha frowned and stood up reluctantly, Richard gripped he legs and cried. "Are you going to ask questions?" She asked harshly, glaring at the man. "Because if you are-"

"I'm… not. No, I was sent in to get you. I was only asking questions of the other performers and Mr. Haley. I wouldn't ask Richard any, I couldn't do that." The man smiled and then it faded when he looked down at the boy. Samantha let out and internal sigh of relief. His eyes stared at the floor, they were enigmatic. The blue swirling with an almost grey color. When had they changed?

Samantha reached down and grabbed Richards hand. "Are you ready?" She asked once more, tugging slightly at his arm. He looked up at her with those big blue enigmatic eyes and said, and it was said in the most sweet and honest but broken voice that was layered with truth, "I was never ready."

Samantha look up at the man, whose name she had yet to acquire, and sent him a sad, desperate look of panic. He stared at her and then at the boy.

"Richard," he said softly, kneeling to his level, "If you want to stay a little while longer that would be alright. Mrs. Parker and I will wait outside." He smiled warmly and Samantha smiled, perfect.

Richard nodded. "Okay."

Mrs. Parker mouthed a 'thank you' in the mans direction and followed him out, closing the door softly behind her. She stepped away from the trailer, feeling, even though she was outside, that she was invading on something important. "So," she said, turning toward the man, "what's your name?" His face got a comedic stature and he chuckled. He was so much unlike the other reports that Samantha felt a bit betrayed, she loved getting into arguments with them. But he was different, the others would have asked questions first and cared little about the feelings of the one asked after, or not at all.

The man held out his hand. "Kent, Clark Kent."

][][][

Richard 'Dick' Grayson stared around the trailer, and, most specifically: the little leather notebook.

To take or not to take.

That was what the question was, and, between those simple words of thought were: to obey or not to obey. The Gotham official had said not to and his mother (internal flinch) had said not to disobey adults but that leather book just sat there teasing him on the little desk.

He walked over to it, reaching his hand out just a little further… a little closer…

Then, suddenly and to his surprise, the door swung open and Richard jumped back in shock and surprise. Samantha stood there, looking a little guilty as she said one word, "Ready?" she asked, it was easily heard in her voice that she was sorry to be pressuring him but he nodded and didn't argue.

One last glance at the notebook and then he walked over to the Flying Grayson's poster. He put his fingers on his parents' faces one last time and then walked out past Samantha, whose eyes followed him with sadness and pity. She quickly glanced at the poster and then at the notebook. She frowned and then walked over, taking it for safe keeping.

][][][

The funeral.

The word rang in Richard's mind over and over. Funeral. There shouldn't have to be one. Mr. Wayne, the man he met that day, was paying for it, donating the money. Mr. Haley had been so happy, actually, the circus had gotten a lot of donating money and Haley put it away for Richard.

"Will you be okay?" A male voice said from behind him. He didn't turn away from the coffin's that confined them. The service was done, over with. "That's what everyone asks." He said simply, still not looking up. He felt a hand on his shoulder, a strong one but still, he did not looked up. "Well, that's because everyone wants to know." The voice continued.

"Why?"

"I don't' know. I suppose… I suppose because that's what matters."

"But what about them? They matter." Richard said, pointing at the coffins.

"Of course they do-"

"Then why ask about me?"

The was no answer to this. Still, Richard hadn't turned around. He still stared, straight ahead. A thousand yard stare, just looking past the city, the hills, the sky, past everything else.

"Because you're here." The voice finally said after a few minutes of complete silence. A bird began to chirp and, Richard, instantly recognizing it, looked over, surprised. It was a robin, a red bellied robin. I smiled and shakingly looked back and the coffin. Robin, her little robin.

"I'll be okay." He finally said and after a bit the footsteps retreated. He never found out who the voice was.

][][][

The first thing Richard noticed about this room; was that it had barred windows and the door was big, bulky and metal with a huge lock on the outside. And everything was cement. And there were weird phone booth things down the hall where he cam in.

Overall, it was a really weird place. A weird orphanage. Even the ones on TV and Annie were better than this place. Frankly, it scared the six year old. Samantha and the Gotham official, Ron Armdons, walked with him. He had had to say his goodbyes the night before and had stayed in the hotel with Samantha. He cried again, not for his parents though, it was because he had to leave the circus for good. They couldn't take him, they weren't allowed.

Mr. Haley. He had to say goodbye to Pop Haley, his grandfather, friend, second father. To Mark, Laura and James: the lion trainers, and everyone else. He would have to say goodbye to Samantha Parker too.

They walked past the metal doors with barred windows, big, burly boys stood at the windows looking down, sneering and spitting when the walked by. A man, who worked here, yelled at them with a screaming voice. Richard flinched when he spoke harshly. Why was he here? Wasn't this an adoption agency? Like the one in Annie? Well, it certainly didn't look like one.

Samantha put a hand on his shoulder and smiled down when he looked up. He just frowned at her and looked away.

"Well," the man said, pulling out a key and pressing a number sequence in a key pad by the door, "Lil' Rich-ard gonna be stayin' here. Don' know haw long, sorry." He shrugged and the door slid open with a schlock! Samantha frowned when he saw the room. "I don't like him staying here. Will he be fine with the other…" she frowned, not wanting to say inmates but didn't know what else to say. The man, named Mr. Harley, smiled at her apologetically. "Other kidz? He shou' be. I'll be keeping' my eye on dis one. Poor kid,"

They watched as Richard let his Superman suit case fall on the floor and he sat down on the bed, curling in a ball. He stared at the barred window, frowning and blinking tears away. Mr. Harley shook his head, wondering why he had to stay in a Juvenile Center (a.k.a the tiny Arkham of Gotham) there were open spaces in Adoption agencies elsewhere, why here? Samantha, thinking something along the same lines and turned to Mr. Armdons. "Why does he have to stay here? Why not Star City? Metropolis? Somewhere!" She exclaimed and watched sadly as the door closed and clicked, signifying the locking of itself. Mrs. Parker shook her head.

Ron smiled. "Because they wouldn't take him!" He sneered and walked away, chuckling darkly to himself.

Samantha shook her head. They would, if they had been asked.

Richard was tucked in a ball on the bed.

How long had he been here? Two months? Something like that. He couldn't do it, he couldn't get the pictures away, get the nightmares from coming. Oh, how he wished he had Peanut!

He wished he had his parents! The nightmares. They blamed him, blamed him for not grabbing his mothers hand. It was his fault he was like this, stuck here where he was bullied and pushed around and alone. He could have come with them, but, no, he was being selfish, keeping his life to himself. He saw the bloody images passing through his head, their faces and hollowed out eyes, crying for him. Telling him it was his fault they were dead. He saw Zucco, heard him too. He could have stopped it.

Zucco.

The man to blame for his pain. It was Zucco's fault, that was what he told himself. But, in his mind, with his parent's, the nightmares, telling him it was his fault, he couldn't help but blame himself, deep down and inside. He cried and cried but it didn't help, didn't make the pain go away. It never helped and neither did the other boys.

The other boys, especially Damien, who stole from a bank at thirteen. Damien made it worse, pushed him, calling him the circus freak, foreign freak, weirdo. Richard didn't do anything, he couldn't, he was so lost and alone, there was no one to help him. So, he simply let everything fall.

Himself, his life (which was practically already gone), everything. He should have grabbed his mothers hand, it as his fault and, maybe, just maybe, he could have saved them.

He let his head fall into his knees, tears spilling over.

He couldn't have saved them, no one could have.

][][][

Bruce's hand slammed against his desk and he threw the newspaper down, the papers falling everywhere. A juvenile center? That's where they put the sic year old? No one could have taken him, for heavens sake he watched his parents fall. No one? Bruce shook his head and sipped his coffee, this was unbelievable.

"Master Bruce? Is something wrong?" Alfred asked, looking over at Bruce, who was in the library, reading the newspaper. Bruce looked up, and it was obvious he was angry even furious would cover it. His eyes were narrowed and he was shaking his head in disbelief.

"Wrong? Wrong? Alfred, they put him in a juvenile center!" He exclaimed. Alfred frowned and walked over, leaning to see the paper better. "You mean the boy? Richard Grayson?"

Bruce scowled and nodded. "Yes…" he frowned and looked away, down at the ground, thinking.

"Alfred, what do you think about a ward?"

T.T

I hadn't planned on updating this till Friday, so consider yourselves lucky. My main update days will be Friday's and/or Tuesdays and if I don't update on those days expect something the next day. Of course, If I get uber excited about a chapter than that rule is thrown out the window. Soooo! Hope you enjoyed and I probably won't update this Friday, I am going to be working ahead on chapters but right now I need to work on 'A Look' as they way surpassed my 145 reviews please! I have 156 reviews, yeah, they surpassed my expectations.

Also, I wanted to add Clark in. I felt that he should see him to understand something, bu I'm not sure what. If anyone has any problems, do tell. Enlighten me, please.

So, uh, review? ^.^

Those who criticize our generation forget who raised it.- Unknown