The chapter you have all been waiting for! Dick's birthday! Yay! Has anyone noticed that in reviews, Dick's name is starred out? ** like so? Makes me laugh everytime I see it. Lol. Well, if you have the Profanity Filter, like I do. Anyway, you all voted in the poll! So here comes the result! This chapter is probably going to be the most fun to write, and as I'm writing this AN, the chapter is nonexistent. The AN at the end will be once I've finished the chapter and edited.

Oh, and when I say love is something you do; I don't mean it like that, you know what I mean those of you who are snickering.

Special guest in this chappie! Yay!

Chapter 9:

Some have said that love is a trifle thing; but, truly, it surrounds our every thought. Even those you hate, a small part of you loves them, or else you wouldn't think about them. Love is in every aspect of our lives, our work, family, friends, hobby's. Love is, actually, not a feeling. It is something you do. You do not feel love. Love goes toward someone, you love them. They are in your thoughts, you see them, you interact. Now, that is not saying anyone you talk to, you love. Those who are close to you, you care for them, you love. Love can abandon you, or, perhaps, you it. You can, much to the surprise of anyone, can abandon love. If something is ripped from you, something that you loved, your love will be stripped from you before your very eyes. Hate and revenge will grow, consuming your every thought. Vengeance will be your guide in life and will control your actions unless you take it and control it.

Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It is not rude, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. It does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.

Love never fails.

February 18th, 1:27 A.M.

Batman sighed, rubbing his temples slightly.

He stood on a gargoyle over Gotham City, his eyes trained on the dank, wet streets below. A light mist had settled over the city and the rain came down softly. Puddles reflected the little moonlight that escaped from the clouds, their mirrored images of the smoky mist above them circulated and rippled with the falling rain. Movement was little on this dark night, few cars moved in the street and the freezing February air was bitter cold, biting at any exposed skin. Most people were staying inside, including the criminals, and Batman felt that the need to be warm was circulating through the city like an epidemic. Frankly, he wanted to go home too, but he wouldn't finish his rounds until the sun began to pop through the grey clouds, or if the time was right; because it didn't look like the sun would make an appearance all through the cold February week.

He was crouched in a poised position, ready to move at a moments notice. He wore his winter suit, the white one with the full face mask. It allowed him to blend in with the snow, fight Mr. Freeze and stay warm in the winter. It was also cold in the early months and the city seemed to be attracting fog and mist like there was no tomorrow; therefore blending in with the white took little to no effort from the white-grey costume.

"You look tired," a silky-smooth voice said behind him. He heard slight movement and the sound of heels clacking against the stone that made up the building. Batman didn't turn around; he knew that voice. Frankly, he didn't want to talk to the voice behind him, ever since Dick came to live with him, he'd spend more time at the Manor and seeing people that generally annoyed him or talked to him as Batman seemed to be against Dick. So, he'd been slightly avoiding the Batman mantle. But either way, Gotham still needed a protector and he couldn't just abandon that. He'd said so himself, he wouldn't give up the mantle of hero.

"Oh really," he replied, his voice gravelly, "and how did you get that impression?"

There was no sound until he heard a small chuckle coming from his left. His arm shot out and grasped something. An arm. A small surprised yelp echoed through the air and the sound of a curse soon followed it. He looked over, smirking slightly at the disgruntled Catwomen before him. The cat thief let out a huffed sigh and glared at him behind the mask, but it didn't effect him.

"Okay, forget that last thought. You're not tired, but you have been avoiding your patrol crap. What's up?" she asked, rubbing her wrist after he let go, turning back toward the city. Her grey eyes from behind the mask examined him as he avoided her gaze. She gave a deep, long sigh and turned to face the city as well, watching the light rain come down. He didn't reply, knowing that she knew what was going on. Besides, she kept tabs on his identity and he on hers.

"Is it the Grayson kid?"

He gave a low growl, turning to face her; the whites of his cowl narrowed dangerously. Even she was a bit threatened and back down, holding her hands up in the defense. He turned away again, but his eyes were still narrowed as he went back to examining the city.

"Fine, fine; I won't call him that. Still, how is he Bruce? I know he's like you, er, sort of. He joining the field?"

His head whipped toward her so fast the turn almost didn't even exist. Flash would have been proud and jealous. His eyes were narrowed and he gripped the gargoyle with all his might, a bit of the weather beaten stone cracking. "No, Selina, he is not. He will not be harmed by this life, I will not allow it. He's to young, he'll get hurt."

Selina Kyle backed up a bit, surprised by the menace in his voice, but then nodded in understanding. She moved away from the bat, knowing she had slightly upset him. Besides, he could break her arm if he wanted too. Not that he would, but she knew it was sometimes hard for him to contain his anger.

"Alright, alright, sorry. I know what you mean. Still, how is he?"

His answer was short and blunt, the typical Batman answer, but Selina was pleased with it nonetheless. "Fine."

She nodded and then realized he didn't want to be bothered, knowing that her question had bothered him, she slipped away into the misty night, her heels clacking ever so quietly against the wet stone. Batman, realizing that she was gone for the night, let his shoulders fall slightly, his anger disappearing with Catwomen.

No, Dick was not going to be like him. He wouldn't let the boy let anger drive him, let revenge fuel his life. Dick would grow up having a normal life, he wouldn't know about Bruce and the Batman being one in the same. Bruce wouldn't, because he loved his son.

And that, was a promise he would keep.

March 21, Dick's birthday

Bruce looked up from the newspaper.

It was Dick's birthday, how could he have forgotten. He frowned at this revelation and looked at the clock, it was 9:37 A.M and Dick still wasn't up yet. Was the boy still sleeping? No, that couldn't be. The boy was usually up bright and early for Alfred's breakfasts. As a matter of fact, he hadn't seen Alfred all morning either and Bruce had been up since 5:45. Technically, since his Batman duty's went well into the morning, he should have slept in but for some reason his mind and body decided it would torture him and wake him at almost six in the morning. Frankly, that wasn't what he needed.

"Br-Bruce?" a small muted voice behind him whispered. Bruce turned around from his desk, seeing Dick standing behind him with Peanut held tightly in his hand and tears falling down his cheeks. Bruce vaguely wondered how he hadn't heard Dick come in and up behind him. The boy let out a small whimper and Bruce knew what it was for. Today was his first birthday without his parents.

Bruce leaned over, his brow furrowed in worry as he held the boys shoulder in his hand. Dick looked at him sullenly and opened his mouth to speak, but his vocal cords abandoned him and all that came out was a huff of air. Bruce sighed and took the boy in his arms, letting him sit in his lap. They sat there for a few moments, Bruce calmly stroking the mop of ebony hair on the boy.

"I'm seven now," Dick muttered, his voice hoarse and ruff, like he hadn't talked at all that morning.

Bruce nodded, "They would be proud Dick," he whispered in the boys ear. The boy nodded, silent tears moving down his cheeks as he thought about what Bruce had said. Would they be proud? He hadn't done his flips and worked on his routines since the day before it happened, which was almost a year ago. Today, the first day of spring, his birthday; his mother would always say she was her little robin and when he flew through the air, performing with so little effort, it would always make her so proud. He smiled at the thought, closing his eyes as he remembered her leaning down and giving him the biggest and best hugs ever.

"I know," Dick whispered, his eyes still closed as all the good and happy memories passed behind his eyelids.

Bruce knew what was happening, what Dick was remembering. He had done the same thing so long ago, when he too, had experienced his first birthday without his parents. He had just lain there in his bed, eyes closed and tried to think of all the things that made him smile. His mothers laugh, his fathers long talks with him, going out with his parents. Anything that would remind him.

"Master Richard, Master Bruce; breakfast is ready," Alfred intoned, his voice coming from behind the big oak doors. Bruce looked down at Dick expectantly, awaiting to know whether the boy was up to it or not. Dick smiled slightly, thinking of Alfred's breakfasts and slid from Bruce's lap and moving toward the door, the purple elephant in his hand bobbing along behind him. Bruce smiled and followed his son toward the beginning of the day.

It mostly passed in a blur.

Dick had eventually decided that they go to the gardens on the first day of spring. He want to see if there were any flowers. Bruce complied, slightly reluctant to go but the exuberance that Dick had shown had caused the man to be weaseled into going. Dick was chatting quietly, slowly becoming more and more faster with his words, his voice rising in the quiet, slow breeze that passed through the garden.

"Zucco is going to pay," the boy suddenly said, his voice lined with anger. Bruce looked down surprised, his eyes widened.

"Who?"

"Zucco. I saw him at the circus, he said someone would have to pay. He killed them, I know he did," Dick intoned, eyes narrowed dangerously. Bruce nodded and looked away. He didn't want Dick's childhood consumed in revenge like his had been. He didn't want the boy to driven like vengeance.

Silence passed between the two as the continued to walk through the gardens. Bruce waited for him to say more of this Zucco character but the boy kept quiet. Bruce knew that soon he would mention one of his parents after this, probably referring to something in the garden.

"My mom, her favorite flower was an Iris. Do you have any Iris's?" Dick asked, his hand tightly wrapped around Bruce's. And there it was. The boy looked up with expectant blue eyes that awaited a final answer. Bruce went completely blank, having never actually noticed nor cared for the flowers and the gardens, let alone which types. He had, at one point in his life; when it had been a happy time, often gone walking with his mother and father in the gardens. They would talk, sometimes his father went on and on about how business was and sometimes it was planning for a party. Most of the time, they just walked. There was nothing special in it, but to Bruce; it was just a good memory to have.

"I don't know," Bruce replied, looking away as to not see the disappointed expression cross the boy's face. "But we can look. Do you know what they look like?"

Dick looked away, frowning. March in Gotham was fairly cold, mostly since they were up north, and the flowers wouldn't be in bloom, technically, till April or early May. But the way Dick had asked, Bruce really wanted to show him an Iris. Besides, the older man felt that Dick wanted to see it on his birthday because his mother wasn't there and he felt that he should honor her in some way. And anyway, what better day then on the first day of spring, to see her favorite flower?

"No. Can we go inside Bruce? I'm feeling tiiired," the boy said, looking up, a yawn slurred into the words. Bruce chuckled and nodded, tugging on Dick's hand to lead him back toward the Manor. Images of finding Dick in cold in February flooded his vision. Bruce closed his eyes, shaking his head, the worst possibilities had come to thought. Dick hadn't been able to find his way to the Manor because he was lost. Frankly, Bruce couldn't blame him for going outside. Having never seen snow before, the child would simply be intrigued by it.

"Sure Dick," Bruce said.

And they slowly began their trek back.

Dick slipped into his bed and let Bruce tuck him in.

He got used to Bruce, even coming to like the man who had taken him in a year ago. All in all, it hadn't been an eventful birthday, at least not yet. Dick had promptly decided to take a nap, slightly exhausted from unknown reasons. Bruce complied, deciding not to argue with him, and had gone upstairs to tuck him in. The walk in the garden seemed to have worn him out, causing him to be sleepy and tired.

He hadn't asked for a birthday present from either Bruce nor Alfred. Of course, Alfred had given him a big, nice breakfast in exchange for a gift. Bruce hadn't gotten him anything, or, nothing that he knew of. It was hard to tell what Bruce was feeling, but his eyes conveyed everything to the boy. The man was silent, dark and brooding. He didn't talk a lot, but, then again, neither did Dick. Of course, Dick had been such a chatterbox with his parents that one could tell within a few years he'd be back into that habit. Still, Dick was sort of hoping for something from Bruce. But he hadn't asked; one simply didn't ask for a gift.

Dick's thoughts wandered to his parents as Bruce turned off the lights and closed the door. He vaguely wondered what they would think of Bruce. Would they approve of the billionaire philanthropist playboy? How would they think of the Manor? Simple living had always been their lifestyle, electronics had been generally not welcomed in the Grayson household. Would they mind if he didn't have to clean his room, since the Butler did it? Would they mind it? Would they have preferred or more simple life? Maybe one with a family? It could have happened that would have had a sister or brother?

As these thoughts went through his mind, he drifted to sleep.

Bruce typed furiously on the Bat Computer.

Zucco. Zucco.

Where had he heard that name before?

Multiple images came up. Newspaper files of a circus. The name was Bundies Family Owned Circus. It was closed down some thirty thirty-five years ago due to low profits and an accident involving a knife thrower. Apparently, the boy had killed his father when his hand slipped. That boy, by the way, was Tony Zucco. Apparently, after the circus closed the mother and the boy moved to Gotham City.

Eventually, it turned out, a man with the same name a few years later began threatening people for 'protection' there were a few witnesses but nothing really against him. This had come from a variety of mini news articles that probably were of little importance to Gotham's people. Those things were of daily occurrence to them. If anything, the whole escapade was sad. The boy could have had a good life. Well, as good as it could have been in Gotham City.

The whole thing that was ironic, though, was that Tony Zucco from the circus and had ruined his life and now he ad gone to a circus as a crime boss and ruined some one else's. Bruce's eyes narrowed as he thought about this. Dick's life was ruined, just because someone wanted money. Dick had said a payment, the Zucco man wanted payment for something. Obviously, whatever it was, had caused him to kill Dick's parents.

Time for the Batman.

The Batmobile screeched to a stop as it moved through the silent streets of Gotham City. The moon was gone, leaving the bat in his element. The streets were flooded with shadows and darkness, the blue light of the Batmobile illuminating them only for a few seconds as it passed. It moved with hardly a sound, the people oblivious in the house to know what it was; more or less likely thinking it was a speeder that was out of control.

Batman had made his way through Gotham's street's toward the slums. And by slums, it basically means the docks. Any criminal who is any criminal takes a warehouse by the docks. He'd have more encounters there than pretty much anywhere else from the city. Besides, if Batman didn't know criminals. Then Flash was slow.

If anything, checking in a few bars and interrogating a few people would get him, if any, some info on Zucco. Of course, the bat didn't know where to start. There were ton's of places where he could be or where anyone who knew him could tell Batman about the murderer.

Batman's eyes narrowed and his hands tightened around the wheel as it went to a complete stop.

A murderer. That's exactly who and what he was.

Dick's eyes fluttered open.

He groggily lifted himself up, his small but strong arms surely letting him pic himself up. He looked around his now darkened room. The velvet curtains were closed and no light streamed through. His head swiveled around and then back toward his bedside table. A crystal vase sat on the table, the water with a faint glow of light. Four flowers were set inside. Dick's hand shot out and his small but nimble finger grazed the purple petal of the Iris flower. He smiled softly and sat up completely to sniff it. The smell was comforting and reminded him of their trailer when his mother would set about five flower vases just so the smell of the flowers could flow through the room. Thoughts of his mother surrounded him as he looked at the flower with soft blue eyes.

He glanced down at his clock, seeing that it was only 7:45, he realized he hadn't had dinner yet. His stomach grumbled in discomfort as he thought this. Moving swiftly from the bed, his small feet met the floor and he walked slowly toward the door; a feeling of being nausea overwhelmed him and he feel to the floor, gasping for breath. Suddenly, it left him and he was able to stand upright to catch his breath. A small smile grazed his lips as he felt himself move with little problem.

He didn't know what came over him, perhaps it was just from being so tired catching up with him, but now he was fine. He slowly opened the door and not a creak came out of it, and made his way down the hall. He wanted to eat and to thank Bruce for the flowers. It occurred to him that Bruce had probably know idea for his birthday and had gotten him the flowers in supply. Dick didn't mind though, the flowers were perfect.

Alfred was no where in sight, however, once Dick reached the kitchen. The old man was usually found in there or in the Library dusting for the tenth time that day. A sly smile came on the boys face as the thought of the ultimate game of hide and seek throughout the manor would ensue. Alfred was hiding and Dick was seeking. If anything, the Manor was the perfect place to play the game, with all the nooks and crannies that were in the large home, it was truly the perfect place. Dick had once even heard Alfred talking about secret passages that went from room to room. The idea of that seemed to make Dick adventurous but he knew that he shouldn't wander the manor.

He still got lost sometimes.

Not minding where he was walking, Dick seemed to have found himself in a library; another one anyway. Who knew how many there were in the Manor? Two velvet chairs were in front of the fire place and a side table in between them. The fire place was unlit, causing the room to be very dark from the lack of light from fire and moon. Bookshelves lined every other wall around the room, except for a place where a grandfather clock was stationed. The thing that seemed to have caught Dick's attention.

A picture of his parents was on the wall over the fire place. His mother and fathers face stared back at him, the features smiling. His mother was holding his fathers hand. Their features were soft and smiling, his mothers eyes seemed to have a spark of love in them. "Mama. Tatăl," he whispered, slowly walking up to the picture and stroking it with his hands. He looked away, squeezing his eyes shut from the oncoming tears that flooded over. He wiped them away with the back of his hand, the other still stationed on the picture; right over his mothers other hand. This was probably the original birthday present from Bruce.

"De ce m-ai lăsat?" He whispered again to himself. He always seemed to ask this question to himself every night. Why did they leave him? Why did they have to go and leave him with this man? Why did Zucco have to take them? Yes, he knew it was Zucco. Dick had figured it out when he continuously thought about the man he had seen yelling with Mr. Haley. The man had asked for a payment? A payment of what?

Death.

A payment of death.

Dick moved away from the picture, a small grazing his features as he moved around the unfamiliar library. The grandfather clock intrigued him greatly and seemed to draw him in, causing his legs to move him in that direction unknowingly. He touched the pendulum lightly, the cool surface surprising him into pulling his hand back with slight shock. Finally pulling up enough courage to touch the moving metal weight, he grasped it completely, stopping it from moving back and forth. He looked at it warily, expecting it to start moving once he let go.

It did not, however, continue and remained in place. Dick frowned, thinking he had broken it and grabbed it again, pulling it down to see if that would fix the problem.

Suddenly, the clock began to slid down. Dick's hand shot out from the tight hold he had had over the metal weight and he jumped back with wide eyes. A glowing steel door was left in the wake of the clock. The door's opened to reveal a circular, very tight, very small room. Dick, realizing it was an elevator, stepped in to inspect it. Not knowing that it responded to weight, the door slid shut behind him, closing him off from the library. Dick let out a muffled cy of shock and banged against the doors with his fists.

"Bruce!" he cried in worry, but he continued to feel an odd feeling. He had the notion that he was traveling downward, but the Manor wasn't that big. The basement levels didn't go that far down, did they? Suddenly, it stopped and he lurched forward with surprise into the door. The doors slid open and he tumbled out on more steel. Feeling slightly disoriented, he groggily sat up and looked around, eyes widening when he realized he was in a cave of some sort. "Whoa," he muttered to himself as he walked around. The cave was big, round and echoic. A computer was on a rocky wall, keyboards and holographic things below it. A chair was moved up against it as well. The ceiling had stalactites hanging from it, causing the boy uneasiness when he looked up at the pointed rocks. There were multiple levels and metal poles with holes through the floors connected them. He moved over to the edge where quite a large hole was. Through that hole was obviously a place where a car would be, as a tunnel led from it.

Suddenly, a roaring noise and a flood of lights blasted Dick, causing him to move back from the edge of the hole in surprise. Regaining his balance, he moved closer, back toward it, to see a high-tech looking car now in place of the pad. The top of the sleek black car slid open and Dick leaned in from utter curiosity.

The thing that jumped out nearly sent him to his wits end.

The Batman.

Good Cliffy? Bad Author making a good cliffy? Yup!

Lol. Hope you liked this chapter. And, well, yay! Dick found the Batcave... and Batman himself! So, take that Bruce! What do you think of your promise now? Haha. Anyway, any thoughts or questions with the story? I have a simple answer to that question: Review! Makes you happy because questions will be answered and maes author happy because people asked questions and reviewed! Ah yes, one big happy family.

If there were anymistakes, my apologies. After reading it over five times, my brain supplies the needed info so I don't realize that the mistake is there.

New poll on profile, check it out.

So, uh, review?