Stupid Disclaimer: It hasn't changed since the last update.

It's been two months since the accident and people are just starting to hear about Wayne and his ward. And, I do not know who runs the Daily Planet so I'm making up a name.

Chapter 4:

Clark Kent walked up into the Daily Planet onto his floor.

He held his coffee in one hand and his briefcase in another. His light grey-brown suit was nice and clean and the matching jacket had nothing but one single dust speck on it. He had woken up to the sun shining in Metropolis and a few birds chirping. He greeted everyone that he passed on the street, deciding to walk today. The gorgeous weather often brought that out in him. He was in a good mood but somehow, in the back of his mind, he knew it was going to be ruined.

"Hey Lois," he said and smiled to the black haired lady. Lois looked up from her computer and gave a brief smile in Clark's direction. "Hey, Clark. Hey, Mitchell, di you have the Wayne adoption thing, or was I supposed to do that?" Lois turned to face a brown haired and brown eyes, big glasses clad man. Mitchell looked up and Clark froze. Wayne? Adoption?

"Huh? Oh, no it's not adoption. He just took in a ward, that kid? You know? The one-"

"Mitchell! One of us was supposed to write it! Front page!" Lois jumped up and Mitchell swallowed and leaned back in his seat. Lois looked peeved and she seemed ready to exploe but then the chief came out, "-get that paper now! Lois, you have the Wayne one? Front Page!" The boss, Harvey Johnson, stalked out, screaming and ordering for things to get done. Lois blinked and whirled around, slipping into her chair s fast it would have rivaled the Flash, and ferociously began typing on the computer. Johnson groaned and then looked at Clark, still frozen buy Lois's desk by the news. There went his good day.

"Kent! What are you doing just standing there! Get back to work!"

Clark looked up, surprised for a moment. "Uh, Mr. Johnson, I need to make a call…" his voice faded and he opened the door, rushing out and flipping his phone up.

"Kent! KENT! Get back here right now!"

Clark quickly walked out and dialed Bruce's number, hoping he heard all of that wrong.

"Hello? Bruce Wayne speaking," Bruce's voice came from the phone. He sounded… happy almost it sounded. Np, not happy, it just wasnt the usual gruff voice and monotone he spoke in. "Bruce, what's this about a ward?" Clark stepped out onto the street and stepped into an alley. He leaned against the wall and ran his hand through his hair. Bruce didn't reply for a few moments and Clark scowled, he really didn't need Mr. Silent right now.

"Bruce-"

"Yes, I have a ward." Bruce said, finally speaking and interrupting him. Clark almost groaned and he shook his head. Was something wrong with Bruce? Something had to be. A ward! He was Batman! He couldn't take a ward! Bruce, sensing his obvious disapproval even through the phone, smirked on the other end of the line. Good, at least he annoyed Clark today. One thing off his To-Do list. "A you crazy Bruce! How could you take a ward in? Who is it?"

"Richard Grayson."

Clark froze and then straightened in understanding, "Oh. Oh." He frowned and then looked around, a few people gave him strange looks but they kept on walking. Clark looked down at his shoes and then up again. Clark frowned and turned away, facing his body down the alleyway he stood in.

"We'll talk about this later." Clark said and snapped his phone shut.

][][][

"Mr. Wayne?"

Bruce looked down and was greeted with healing blue eyes. He was getting better and after that week when he comforted him after the nightmares they were getting, only slightly, closer. Richard still called him Mr. Wayne and he wouldn't budge from it and he would still avoid him but when the nightmares came Bruce would come in and comfort him. So far, that was as far as he and the boy had gotten.

Bruce knew Richard didn't trust him, or Alfred much to Bruce's surprise, and that would keep the boy from coming closer. But, then again, he was younger so he would trust him faster than an eight year old. Any child older than that would normally despise their adoptive parents(s), or siply strongly dislike them, perhaps even blaming them for what was wrong. But, as he was young, he would be more trusting. Or, at least, that was what Bruce thought. Richard would get a panicked, slightly scared and nervous look on his face when Bruce would attempt to talk with him and he would scoot away uncomfortably, shifting under the man's worried gaze.

"Yes, Richard?" Bruce asked, leaning down, slightly. Richard was out in the gardens when he found him. Bruce had stayed with him and Richard was simply gliding through the gardens, staring at the flowers as if there were no tomorrow. Roses, Lilacs, Wisteria and lilies. He would sniff them and finger them, twisting the flower around in his fingers to get a good look. Alfred and the gardeners (that came once a month) made it gorgeous in the summer and spring.

"What's your favorite animal?" He asked. Bruce paused a moment, faltering in his step. Why would Richard as that? They knew so little about each other and that's what kept them from coming closer. Maybe this was a start. Bruce smiled to himself.

"I like a bat, what's yours?"

"Robin."

"That is interesting. Why?"

Richard hesitated a moment but then froze altogether. "Why do you like a bat?" Now it was Bruce's turn to freeze. He never actually thought an answer to the question. And, truthfully, he had answered the question without a second thought, he hadn't thought about it. Maybe his trust toward the boy was stronger than the boy's trust to his. But why didn't Richard answer his question about why he liked robins? Bruce looked down at the boy and sighed, he was such a paradox.

"I don't really know."

"Okay, what's your favorite color?"

"Black."

"Why?"

Again with the why. Bruce sighed and looked away. "It's… a nice color." He said this absentmindedly, as he was thinking forward to the talk with Clark. In all honesty, he was worried about what Clark say. He didn't want to deal with the 'Your Batman!' crap, really. Bruce scowled and shook his head. Frankly, the thought of not showing up was firmly planted in his head.

"Mr. Wayne?" Richard's small voice broke through his thoughts and Bruce looked down at him. The boy's sad and depressed eyes thoroughly saddend Bruce.

"Yes?"

"Why did you take me in?"

][][][

Clark sat at the table, waiting.

Honestly, he hadn't expected Bruce to show. Or even answer if Clark called him. Heck, he doubted it if Bruce would even let Alfred answer.

"Mr.? Would you like to order something?" A voice said to the right of Clark. He looked up from his writing to see a waitress, standing there looking rather bored. "Uh, no, thank you. I'm waiting on someone." Clark replied, looking over at her and sending a smile. She nodded and walked off to serve someone else.

Clark shook his head and turned back to his work. A ward. What was Bruce thinking? He heard the ding of the bell from the door but didn't turn around.

And then, of course, Bruce had to slid into the seat across from him. Clark looked up, slightly irritated that he hadn't even heard the man walked up to him. "Bruce…and…"

Clark looked down and saw a six year old boy, so it was true. The boy was sitting against the booth seat in a black jacket and blue jeans. His black hair was shaggy in his face and his blue eyes stared dead ahead of him.

"Clark, meet Richard, my… ward." Bruce said and looked away at the word ward. Clark blinked. He hadn't gotten a good look of him before. He looked bad now, Clark couldn't imagine how he was that night and even worse the day after. Right now, he stared ahead with dead, lonely eyes. Bruce looked down and smiled. Smiled.

"Say hi to Mr. Kent, Richard," he said. Richard looked up and smiled at Clark.

"Hi."

Clark nodded and smiled warmly at the boy. "Hi, Richard. How do you like living with Bruce?"

Bruce shot Clark an irritated look.

Richard looked up and nodded, only giving him half of a glance, his thoughts else where. "It's okay," he replied and his head hung again. Clark nodded and gave Bruce a look. The man was looking away, frowning all the while. Clark instantly regretted asking the question to the boy. Richard didn't seem to want to look at Bruce and probably living with him didn't make it any better. He... didn't feel comfortable. But when Bruce looked down at the boy and the edges of his mouth twitched upward as the boy smiled slightly at something in his thoughts; Clark knew that Bruce cared for the boy, the kryptonian could see in it in the humans eyes.

"Bruce?"

"Yes?"

"We need to talk."

"We are talking?"

Clark scowled and shook his head. Of course he would say that. "You know what I mean. Why? Why did you do it?" Bruce frowned and looked out the window at Metropolis. He didn't reply for a few minutes, and Clark frowned. Nothing, Bruce still didn't say anything for a few more minutes. Richard was playing with a Rubix Cube on the table. He had pulled it out of his jacket pocket and seemed to be enjoying himself. His brow was furrowed and his chin was on the table as his narrow eyes studied the cube restlessly.

"He asked that too," Bruce whispered, still looking at the window as if he hadn't said anything, under his breath. For a moment, Clark wondered why he hadn't said it aloud. Then, of course he didn't want Richard to hear. He didn't want to hear Bruce's answer, Bruce didn't want to worry him or… offend him… or something. Clark frowned at these thoughts.

The boy, Richard, asked the same thing?

Clark glanced at the six year old. He was smart, this could easily be told, and was fumbling, his fingers flying, across the Rubix Cube. He slid one side over, frowned and moved it the other way, not pleased. Clark chuckled, he could never figure those dang things out.

Honestly, Bruce seemed duped.

Well, not about the Rubix Cube but about the boy in general. He obviously cared for him but felt uncomfortable. The boy said very little to nothing and apparently called him Mr. Wayne when he did talk. Clark chuckled, Bruce probably didn't like that.

"Well-"

"Do you wanna or-dah now?" The waitress said, once again by his table. Clark and Bruce both looked up, as did Richard but when he saw the girl he found it uninteresting and he looked back down at his Rubix cube. Bruce chuckled and then looked up at the waitress, smiling kindly. "Yes, a coffee please. Caffeinated and an orange juice for him."

She nodded and wrote it down.

"Same here," Clark said, nodding in her direction. She nodded and looked down at Richard, who was completely ignoring her. None of the adults moved as they watched his nimble, tan fingers run over the cube. He moved them around quickly, sometimes even looking up at the ceiling in thought, still moving the little squares around.

And then, he was done. He placed it on the table and looked up at Bruce. "Done," he whispered softly and then stared at it, smiling. Bruce grinned and nodded, looking down at it. Clark stared at in shock and then his gaze flickered to the boy; amazing. The waitress snapped out of it and nodded, slipping her paper pad into her apron pocket.

"I see that. Nice job," commented Bruce, picking it up and inspecting it. His index finger taped against the blue side. He frowned and put it back down on the table. Richard smiled a bit and picked it back up, messing it back up and then completely returning it back to the finished product. He smiled again, nodding his head as if this confirmed it was officially finished, and set it back on the table just as the waitress came with the drinks.

She set the orange juice in front of Richard with a piece of paper and a few crayons. He looked up at her and smiled. She nodded back curtly and placed the coffee in front of the adults. "Here," she muttered, placing the bill in front of Clark and walking away with a quick glance and smile toward Richard, who seemed to be contemplating what to draw. "Why don't you draw… a robin?" Bruce asked, leaning over suddenly toward the boy, whispering in his ears. Clark blinked, as did Richard.

The boy looked up, surprised, and then down at the paper, his features softening. He nodded and picked up a black crayon, staring down at the white piece of paper and smiled a bit, beginning to draw the back part of the birds head. He moved the crayon gracefully down the paper until he had the tail feathers. Clark smiled and then looked up at Bruce.

"Fine. If something happens… I still don't like this," Clark said and then stood up, putting down three fives on the bill paper and picking his coffee up. He nodded toward Bruce and then paused for a moment, looking down at Richard.

And then he left.

][][][

Bruce walked toward the library, where he heard Alfred and Richard talking. He didn't enter, however, as he wanted to hear his voice.

"I don't know, Alfred." Richard was saying, seeming to be thinking about something. He spoke, for a six year old, with such eloquence and a calmness that would have rivaled Thomas Jefferson. He was smart. So much potential. Bruce smiled to himself, he really had come to care for him. Honestly. He hadn't realized this before, a few weeks ago, but he genuinely cared for him. He wanted to talk to him, to get to know Richard. Bruce wanted to talk to him.

But he kept pulling away, kept turning from him, seeking refuge from the storm called his life elsewhere. He searched out books, pictures, nature, even Alfred. Anything to get away from the man he had been taken in by. The stranger, the stranger who seemed to be trying to replace his parents. The relationship between the two could only be considered to be getting worse.

A pursuer was pursing something that didn't want to be pursed. Something that just needed time to be healed. But in order to be healed, one had to have a healer.

][][][

Bruce slowly rubbed his temples, slightly annoyed with his secretary.

"Mr. Bruce, a man is here to see you," she would say as cheerfully as she could, and Bruce had thought she did it just to annoy him.

"What's his name?"

"He says his name is Mr. Dubois," Mary Allen replied, cheerful as ever. Bruce scowled, honestly, even Flash wasn't this cheerful when he was hyped on coffee. Annoying, yes, but cheerful? Not really. Bruce didn't reply at first. He knew not any Mr. Dubois, but maybe he was a business associate of another company. No, he wasn't meeting with anybody that he knew of.

"What's he here for?"

Mrs. Allen didn't reply for a few minutes and Bruce actually forgotten she was on the other end of the line. He went back to shifting through paperwork, Classified and Declassified Wayne Tech documents clouded his vision as he worked, filling his mind with words and diagrams.

"So… if this was- Yes, Mrs. Allen?" he asked, slightly exasperated as her voice rang from the comm. line.

"He left sir, grumbling. But you do have a call, sir."

"Where from?" He sounded more tired now than annoyed but she didn't notice. "Wayne Manor, sir."

Bruce blinked. What did Alfred need now? Not that Bruce wanted to sound annoyed with Alfred, but he didn't really want to be disturbed. He needed to work, that was final.

"Put me in," Bruce sighed, shaking his head. Hopefully, it would be a short exchange. "Master Bruce?" Alfred's voice sounded through the comm.. Bruce sighed and looked out the window down at Gotham City, watching the people pass by.

"Yes?"

"It's Master Richard."

Bruce sat up now, fully alert. Whatever it was, Alfred seemed nervous. Bruce could here it in his voice. Normally, Alfred could handle most things, so refraining to Bruce it must've been bad. Whatever was wrong with Richard was bothering Alfred, and now Bruce. Maybe a nightmare, or perhaps he had done something, fallen down the stairs and broken his arm or had a concussion. All of these things ran through his mind in a flash.

"What? What's wrong?"

"It seems I can't find him, Master Bruce."

"You mean he's lost?"

"Or hiding."

Bruce frowned, Richard should have no reason to be lost. Bruce often caught him wandering the manor, looking around and inspecting rooms. So, maybe he was hiding. He was finding a place of refuge. Bruce frowned, something wasn't right. Well, obviously, Richard seemed to be hiding but that he was hiding, from Alfred. It seemed Alfred was more closer to the boy than Bruce. So, why would he run from Alfred?

"I'm on my way. Mrs. Allen, please get off the line," he growled and he heard a beep. Alfred sighed deeply and then left, another beep following the first. Bruce stood up and quickly gathered up all the documents and files and placed them in his briefcase. He shook his head, quickly lapsing the locks on the case and rushing from his office, which was much to big for one man.

He zipped past Mrs. Allen, who looked up from the laptop and smiled way to big. He ignored her and walked past.

The news of him having a ward had been taken way to seriously in the last five and a half weeks. People were still making a big deal about it. Newspapers were writing about it, calling it a simple publicity ticket. Bruce had gritted his teeth at that. Did they think he was some cruel man; taking a child in and then disposing of him just for publicity? Alfred had shaken his head at that thought, muttering under his breath. Richard, who had seen the article on the newspaper that was talking about it. It had bothered him and he asked Bruce if that was what it was, just something to make him more popular among Gotham City and America. Somehow, this disgusted Bruce more then the Joker. How people culd think so low of him was beyond his thoughts. Well, no, the weren't actually. He knew that his playboy image wouldn't be good and taking in a ward wouldn't be good either, but... he had too. He couldn't let that young boy turn out like him. Bitter and hurt. But the news article had freake Richard out, the thought of going to the Tuvenile Center completely scared him.

Bruce had completely freaked out over the whole thing and Richard was sent to bed early by Alfred. More nightmares that night, and he'd caused them.

There was a charity event in a few days, and Bruce was going to take Richard to it. Wayne Tech was funding a few Gotham City orphanages and a few elsewhere as well.

Bruce, who had completely spaced out, was now at his car, keys were instinctively in hand. He looked down and shook his head, putting the key into the car. He opened the door and slipped inside, closing the door behind him and starting the engine.

Heading home.

][][][

"Richard?" Bruce yelled, looking around.

It was about twelve at night and they were still looking for the boy. Alfred and he had yet to find him. He had been missing since One O'Clock in the afternoon, he had missed dinner and was now missing out on sleep. Unless, of course, he had already fallen asleep and that explained why they hadn't found him yet.

"Master Bruce, I have searched the third and fourth level for him twice. He is not there. Have you looked in the gardens?"

Bruce frowned. "Yes, I have."

Alfred frowned and looked at the picture of the Greek Agora. Bruce couldn't think of where he may be. They searched just about every part of the manor, except the Batcave… unless.

"Alfred, the Batcave. Come on!"

He turned and sprinted off toward the small library, where the grandfather clock was. The small library! They didn't check there! Bruce knew it! When he came to the door and slowly opened it, he paused when he saw Richard, staring out the window.

Richard was on his knees, his hands between his legs. The moonlight shone on him directly from the window, his ebony hair having a now eerie effect. His blue eyes were a more crystal clear blue and his tan skin was almost glowing in the pale light. His face glistened with tears coming from his eyes. He stared up at the moon, not moving, breathing calmly and softly. Bruce didn't move and neither did Alfred, who had come up behind Bruce.

"Richard?" Bruce finally asked. Richard jumped slightly and turned, wide eyed, toward the two older men. They stared at each other for a few moments.

Bruce moved forward, and got down on his knees next to him, looking up at the moon.

"Richard," he said.

"Bruce," Richard replied back with. Bruce looked down, surprise. This had been the only time he voluntarily called him 'Bruce'. Richard wasn't looking at him now and was staring back at the moon. He looked almost like a ghost, so peaceful and quiet. "Bruce? You can call me Dick, it's my nickname. I'll call you Bruce," he explained. Bruce nodded and stared straight up at the moon.

"Alright, Dick."

It was silent for a little more while until Rich, no, Dick whimpered. "I miss them. Mommy always used to look up at the moon, she said it was like a pearl. I miss her… and daddy," he whispered, his tears flowing like the little rivers of life that streamed down the windows of the limo that day. They hadn't reached the end of that waterfall but, suddenly, Bruce could feel they were getting closer to the end.

"You know what, Dick?"

There was no reply but silent sniffles.

"I miss mine too. I lost my parents, like you did, when I was younger. I had to watch too, just like you. We're alike Dick, just a bit. I miss them too," he whispered back, just staring at the moon like the young boy next to him. He felt eyes on him and he looked down, Dick staring at him with wide, tear bearing eyes.

"Really?"

"Yes."

"Just like me?"

"Just like you."

It was silent and they just stared at the moon.

][][][

I had to put a Bruce/Dick scene in. I think they'll really begin to click in the next two chapters, which will be a part 1 and a part 2. I felt like it was time for a bit of them, and besides, Bruce just needed away to find away to comfort him. And don't worry, Dick is still wary of him but trust is starting to wriggle its way to the two. It'll take a while but it'll happen soon. But, they did, however, slowly develop in this chapter more.

I am glad you guys are liking this story and thanks a bunch for reviewing and reading the quotes. Question: So far, which quote has been your favorite?

Wolfram003: Thank you! A bunch!

And thanks to those who are reading 'A Look' and such for reading this as well, I really appreciate it. I updated because I was excited about this but then, now, Tuesday I won't be able to update. There's always a catch, isn't there.

Review!