I updated!

In time!

Yay!

Hopefully, after you read this chapter; you'll never see snow the same way again. Haven't you ever just basked in it? For those of you who have never seen snow at all, I hope I gave you a good impression and scene. :)

Sama: I have no intention of ever abandoning this, I might have to get someone to hold me to this. :) Don't worry, I totally noticed the repetition, makes me know how much you love or like the story, which ever it is.

If Diana seems OOC, I was on a sugar rush while writing that part. :DDD

BTW, still looking for an official beta. :)

The first step to getting the things you want out of life is this: Decide what you want.
- Ben Stein

Chapter 8: The next day:

"Bruce, if you don't open the door; I'll knock it over!" Diana threatened, her voice rising slightly like they often did in the English language.

Bruce sighed and he seriously thought about taking the escape route to the Batcave. He could imagine Diana raising her fist, her face flushing red as she yelled. The escape sounded nice right now. There was one, of course, that he had as a backup. Not even Alfred knew about, just incase someone would brainwash him, or read his mind, or force him to tell where all the Batcave entrances were and then block them. Honestly, deep down, he knew he was just being paranoid but one could never be to sure, right? Still, the thought of running was funny to him, almost as if he had heard a good joke. Not that he usually laughed to jokes, but still.

Okay, he never laughed at jokes.

"If you knock down that door, I'm pretty sure you'll get in trouble," Clark said seriously, though his voice sounded almost mocking and humorous, an odd sound coming from the Man of Steel. Normally, his tone was kind and soft, unless, of course, he was talking to Lex Luthor. But right now he sounded like he had a bone to pick with someone and that someone just so happened to be poor (not literally) Bruce Wayne. Either way, the Man of Steel was getting his talk, no old door could stop him from that.

"She will. The door's unlocked, by the way. I'm surprised you didn't try that first," Bruce called out, his fingers lightly tapping on the oak wood desk that had once belonged to his father, Thomas Wayne. His brown eyes narrowed as he heard silence, obviously they were whispering to each other and blaming their own idiocy. Honestly, he didn't blame them. If they were in a fight and had waited to get someone, most likely the person they were saving, they would be dead; just because they waited to open the door. And then the people after the would get them and probably kill them. Well, if they had kryptonite and could catch Diana, then they would be dead. Then again, Bruce was thinking of a worst case scenario, and it probably wouldn't happen. But he was Batman, it was just what he did.

The door slowly opened and a red faced Diana and a bashful looking Clark stepped inside the big private study of Bruce Wayne. Diana was wearing a jeans and a blue blouse with black heels, her bracelets were secured on her wrists and Clark wore a simple stereotyped reporters outfit. They both walked forward stoically, their movements stiff and tense.

"Bruce."

"Clark. Diana."

"Bruce."

It was silent for a moment and Clark's lips twitched in humor and he relaxed slightly. Bruce looked at each of them expectantly, waiting for one of them to speak. Besides, they had come to visit and talk with him, they start. Clark's eyes wandered, ever the small farm boy, as he was amazed by the Manor and the study itself. Diana's blue eyes remained, however, on her prey. She muttered under her breath and Bruce could tell it was in Greek, probably cursing him to the gods. He'd heard her do it to Flash, poor guy, when he kept asking her why she wore that costume.

"Bruce, we came to talk," Clark said, hoping to get rid of the tension they had so unknowingly created. Diana let out a sigh of relief, quickly glancing at the man next to her in thanks. Bruce's eye brows shot up and he tilted his head toward the Man of Steel, obviously not impressed. Heck, why should he be? He'd been in so many more business meetings where the people were just so dang awkward and tried to be so impressive; that Bruce just wasn't impressed by anything anymore. Then again, after facing the Joker, he was prepared for anything really.

"Obviously, you didn't come here for a cup of tea," Bruce replied, snorting and spinning in the chair to face them completely. He leaned forward, lacing his fingers together and giving them a completely serious Batman look. Diana's glare hardened, her eyes narrowing, but she couldn't compete with the Bat glare that he had so obviously improved. Clark smiled nervously. Sure, he was stronger than Bruce, who was merely human, but he knew Clark's every weakness.

"I know," Clark admitted sheepishly, "but we need to talk. Bruce you've been neglecting League contact, issues and, no real surprise here, some of the members. Is it for the kid?"

Bruce's head shot up, for it had been hanging slightly and his glare hardened. Did Clark really just call Dick the kid? Where they implying that he should be dealing with the League more and not with his s- ward? He knew the League was important, it protected all innocents on the planet, and then some, but his family (this was thought absentmindedly) was important too. If you would ask Alfred, the butler would swear (not in the literal sense) that the man was healing.

"Are you implying," he hissed, voicing his earlier thought, "that the League is more important than my son?" He hadn't realized that he said son.

Diana looked slightly offended and opened her mouth to speak, but was cut off by Clark, who swept his hand through the air; eyes narrowed. "What! No, I would never say that!" he exclaimed, "I'm just saying the League is important too. They need you about as much as they need the Watchtower… okay, maybe not that much, but still. Bruce, Batman is still there-"

Suddenly, to their surprise, Bruce laughed. "You honestly think that I would just give up being Batman? Yes, when hell freezes over, sure. Clark, I could never ever give up that part of my life. Heck, it is my life. Richard is here, nothing can change that, I'm just trying to make him feel at home.

"He's broken and lost, Clark, you saw that when you went to Haley's that night. He needs someone right now-"

"Yes," Diana interrupted, snorting in mock laughter, "because you're the perfect candidate. Mr. Dark and brooding himself will heal this boy. Bruce, he would have been better off with someone else-"

"Get out!" Bruce snarled suddenly, standing up and pointing toward the door. Diana stepped back in surprise, all the anger that had flooded her face suddenly left, replaced by shock and realization of what she had just said. Clark glanced at Bruce and then looked at Diana, surprised by what she had just said and Bruce's reaction. Honestly, he hadn't expected this sort of thing from her but, then again, Bruce's reaction was to be expected. But, either way, it confused the Kryptonian.

"What? Bruce, look, I'm sorry! I didn't realize-"

"I said, get out," Bruce growled, his eyes narrowing and his voice deepening. Diana straightened and then nodded, promptly spinning on her heels and stalking out, head held high. Though they didn't see it, she was crying. Clark gave an apologetic smile toward the angered man and slowly backed out of the room, once out of sight, however, he was gone.

Bruce sighed and sat back down in the chair, the anger gone.

She was right though.

December 25, Christmas day 5:34 A.M, 2004

Dick woke up, eyes widening when he realized what day it was.

Christmas.

How could he have forgotten? Just last night, obviously, it had been Christmas Eve, he had even gotten to open the present that Alfred had gotten him. Bruce's present was yet to come and, to say the least, Dick was extremely curious as to what it was. He had tried to prod around the house in search of anything that could relatively look like a present. He hadn't had any luck, considering the Manor was so large.

He threw the covers off himself, jumping out and onto the floor, his bare feet slapping against the cold wood floors, and ran out of the room. He zipped down the stairs, pausing to look out a window to see the soft snow falling over Gotham City. He had never truly seen snow before, mostly because during the cold winter months they went to the warmer places, often down south. The circus had never taken a break…

He wiped a tear that slid down his cheek.

Thinking back toward the snow, he had yet to wonder where it came from; having never read about it. It honestly fascinated him, to see the white fluffy stuff come down from a grey-white sky. The clouds swirled around the city in a dark mass, their color reminding Dick of smoke from a fire, only lighter in shade. The white snow fell down peacefully, not coming down to fast. It came down in sheets, almost making the grey city blending into the frozen, crystallized water particles. Dick's breath hitched as he stared out the window, completely forgetting it was Christmas just because of the thrill of the snow. He grinned to himself slightly as an idea popped into his head.

He continued down the stairs, though he was now tip-toeing down, careful not to wake Alfred, if he wasn't already up yet. He carefully walked over to the door, absentmindedly pulling the cuffs' of his sleeves closer to his hands. He grabbed the big iron handle, his small tan hands wrapping around it delicately, and pulled with all his might. The door gave a small creak but then opened effortlessly. The wind blew in, wrapping around the boy like sheets. He let out a suppressed shiver, not expecting for it to be so cold.

Sure, he knew the snow needed cold but he didn't know it needed to be that cold. He let out a deep, determined sigh and tromped out into the bitter cold, the winter breeze biting at his exposed skin, giving him a pale complexion. He ignored it, closing the door behind him, not realizing that it locked itself, and walked out down the walkway. He stared up at the sky, his blue eyes widening in wonder.

Dick clutched the edges of his pajamas, folding the cuffs of his sleeves over his hands. He wiggled his toes and then looked down, feeling an odd sensation in them.

They were numb.

Not that he realized it, because he shrugged them off and looked around at the white around him. He had normally thought white as such a bland color, mostly because he grew up around so much color. But now, as he saw it floating around him, shining and fluttering in the wind, he thought it was beautiful. As he stared up, the snow swirling delicately around him, the grey sky in the background, he felt… almost warm. It twinkled like stars in a grey sky, beacons to the darkness that came from the night. It swirled down around him, floating around and twisting and turning. They were so flexible, so interesting to watch.

He smiled to himself, silently wishing his parents were there with him.

He continued walking, finding himself in the white covered gardens. The normally blood red roses were crinkled and frost covered their brown stalks, but he still thought it was beautiful. Gorgeous in it's own special way. The carnations and daisy's were gone to, but Dick could still identify them with little problem. The red brick path was covered in the white stuff, the landscape blending together in a swirling mass of sparkling white. He smiled at it, pushing back the coldness factor in the back of his mind. It almost seemed like a painting worthy of being inside Wayne Manor. The whites and grays and dark colors went together so valiantly, that it seemed almost like a fairytale land. Like the one in one of C.S Lewis's books.

A snowy wonderland.

It was bitter, biting at his skin uncomfortably. The wind wafted through his ebony hair, the black onyx slightly grey from the icicles and snow sticking to it, making it slightly damp. It shined in the faded yellow light from the sky, but the sun was mostly covered up by the grey clouds. The wind was harsh as it suddenly blew in his face. He spluttered, his breath being seen by his eyes a surprise to him, having not noticed it before.

He gave out a deep breath again, seeing the frosty grey color come from his mouth made him giggle.

If only his parents could see him now…

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Bruce had been sitting in his bed for a bout fifteen minutes before he finally came to the realization that is was Christmas and there was someone in the house other than Alfred. A boy, about six years old, would most likely be either a) excited about it or b) sad because his parents were dead and this was his first Christmas without them.

He knew that Dick would most likely in the kitchen with Alfred, if the butler was up of course. Most likely he was, he really had never been the one to sleep in. Bruce threw the covers off him and grunted as he sat up, his bare feet slipping into come navy blue slippers. He stood up and made his way to the door, waking straight past Dick's room as he walked down the stairs. He went by the window, smiling as he saw snow, being reminded of the times before his parents were gone.

He stepped into one of the more frequently used kitchens. Alfred was making coffee and humming to himself, going along with the Christmas music from the radio, mixing a few scrambled eggs in a pan. Much to Bruce's surprise, however, he saw no Richard Grayson. Normally, the boy would be leaning against the counter, chatting silently and comfortably with Alfred. Sometimes he would even help cook with the older man.

"Alfred," Bruce said, eyes warily bouncing around the room, "have you seen Dick?"

"No, sir, I have not. I thought he was still asleep. Was he in his bed? Oh, and Merry Christmas, sir."

Bruce glanced up at Alfred and nodded in reply and shifted uncomfortably. Should he feel worried? No, Dick was probably still sleeping in his bed. Nice and warm. "Maybe… maybe I should go check, just in case," he said, feeling way to paranoid than he should have been. He stood up, glancing toward the door, hesitating, just waiting for the kid to come in, either crying or smiling. Alfred nodded, smiling but confused as he watched the younger man walk up and out of the kitchen, also wondering why Master Richard hadn't entered yet. The boy was generally up bright and early to get his schoolwork done, mostly so he could wander the Manor and the manor's grounds.

Alfred silently wished that the boy hadn't gone outside.

][][][

Bruce walked toward Dick's room, glancing out at the thick fog that had settled over the city and the Manor. It made him uneasy for some reason, but he wasn't sure why. Normally, thick fog was usual in Gotham City, and most of it was hazy grey because of the polution and people were so used to it, that they didn't even realize the air was different until they left the city.

Slowly, he approached his ward's door, the iron knob beaconing him to come and twist it's handle. He placed his hand on the cold metal, but didn't pull back, instead, opening the door and looking at the bed.

The empty bed.

][][][

Dick turned to go back toward the Manor.

And then turned again.

And again.

And then realized he was lost. The whiteness had blended everything together, it was still pretty but quite confusing to the six year old. The bitter coldness hit him from time to time, his face turning almost as white as the snow, for he was freezing cold. His eyes had lost their bright blue color a bit, becoming foggy and glassy. But he still maintained a straight mind as he turned around, hoping to see the dark Manor against the white grey sky.

Nothing.

He bit his lip, biting away the frost that had turned his lips blue and even drawing blood, but he didn't realize it. Dazed, he continued walking. The world became quiet and foggy, a dense thick cloud of fog and snow had descended on Gotham City, making it harder and harder to see. He ran into a few shrubs from time to time, but everything seemed to blend together as if a painter had taken a brush to the city.

He closed his eyes, a tear running down his pale, icy cheek, the thought of being left out in the cold scared him. His feet had an odd sensation and, even though he could not see it, his lips were a blue, purple-white.

He curled up in a ball, his breath warming him as he breathed into his hands, but the warm sensation only lasted a few seconds. He shivered, teeth clacking against each other, his body trying to generate heat. His eyes slowly began to close, the fog and the cold drifting into his thoughts. His dreams shifted, sometimes he was a character in a book he had read. A swordsman, fighting against the White Witch or sometimes he was a valiant dragon, defending his treasure.

White covered his vision, sometimes he thought he was seeing his parents, other times he saw Bruce or Alfred. Sometimes he heard voices, people yelling his name. Were they his parents? Were they calling for him to come home? Was the past few months all just one big horrible dream? He saw flashes of light and splotches of darkness. His vision faded in and out as the coldness took over, pulling him in unconsciousness.

The last thing he felt was strong arms wrapping around him.

Bruce laid Dick on the velvet covered couch, pulling up the wool blanket he found.

The boy snuggled into the cushions, his pale skin returning to it's normal color as the warmth from the Manor spread through his limbs. Bruce had found the boy curled up in a shivering ball, unconscious. Panic had overtaken him as the worst case scenario came to his mind. He rushed forward and pulled the boy into his chest, hoping to warm him up. Dick had been as white as the snow, his ebony hair was covered in frost and his lip was bleeding, no doubt from a bite mark.

Bruce rushed toward the house and ordered Alfred for hot chocolate and then rushed toward the main living room, laying him on the couch and fetching a blanket. The boy was sleeping and Bruce had taken his temperature: 98.3 degrees. He had mild hypothermia and Bruce nearly fell over from worry. He should have at least expected that, since the weather outside was 10 degrees below zero, record temperatures in Gotham City. Of course, as long as they kept him warm, he would be fine. And, as long as he didn't get Hepatic Dysfunction, but hopefully that could be avoided. They would slowly warm him up, insulating him in warm clothing and the blanket. Having already changed the boy's very wet pajamas to something more appropriate, warmer clothing, he would begin to warm up.

"Sir, I brought the hot chocolate, shall I leave?" Alfred said, causing Bruce to look up in surprise; having not heard the butler.

"Huh? Sure, I'll just wait for him to wake up," Bruce replied, glancing down as the boy shifted slightly. Alfred nodded and bowed, retreating to the room to go clean up the mess from breakfast, thinking that this would be a very memorable Christmas. Bruce stroked Dick's hair, it's dampness bothering him. He grabbed a towel from earlier and rubbed Dick's hair, trying to get the remaining wetness from it.

He sighed and sat back in the chair across from the couch, watching Dick with warm brown eyes. The boy would mumble in Romani in his sleep, shifting slightly to fit his comfort. He pulled his knees up into his chest, wrapping small, pale thin arms around them. Bruce smiled slightly and then looked down.

Bruce reached down and pulled the Christmas present he had gotten for Dick. He hadn't bought a thing. Bruce moved forward fluidly and set the boy's familiar elephant in his arms.

At least he got to find out who peanut was.

New Year's Eve. December 31, 2004 11:55 P.M

Dick and Bruce sat in the living room with Alfred, watching the New Year's Eve party at Time Square.

Dick was obviously fascinated by it, having never seen the party on television before. They probably were performing on New Years Eve & Day, so television was not an option. Bruce was having more fun watching Dick watch the screen than actually watching the screen. Alfred was drinking a 'spot of tea' and reading a book by Edgar Allen Poe, though why he would be reading that greatly confused Bruce, but he simply brushed it off as pure boredom.

He frowned as he realized that he hadn't called Diana back and apologized for snapping at her. But he decided to prove her wrong. This would be a place where Dick could grow up, free from vigilantes and heroes. He smiled as Dick jumped and gave him and Alfred a hug, surprising the man and dropping the book, since the ball dropped.

This year would be a new year.

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Review! Thank you! Can we get up 100! Please!

Chance is a word void of sense; nothing can exist without a cause. -Unknown