It was his first night in Wayne Manor, and Dick couldn't fall asleep.

He had a big room. The whole mansion was huge, which was ridiculous, since only two people lived there before Dick arrived. They're just wasting the house, he thought.

He was lying awake on a big fancy bed, in a dark empty room. All his worldly possessions were stuffed into two big duffel bags which sat unopened in the corner. He was technically the inheritor of his family's things too, but they were in storage somewhere. He hadn't wanted to pick through their stuff yet.

He fought the urge to toss and turn, thinking he might fall unconscious sooner if he stayed still. It's not that he wasn't tired. He was desperately sleepy, especially after all the stress he went through the last several days. It was a lot of work: the funeral, becoming Bruce's legal ward, becoming an official American citizen. But sleep just wouldn't come.

There was a digital clock on a nightstand next to his bed. He kept glancing at it and knew when the first hour had passed, then the second hour, and so on, and he regretted looking because knowing just how much sleep he was missing only made him feel worse.

He groaned and tried to figure out what was keeping him awake. It probably wasn't grief. It's not like he hadn't slept at all since the death of his family. The problem had to be this room. But it's not like the bed was uncomfortable - just the opposite. And even if it weren't, he could sleep on anything from cots to sleeping bags to Zitka's back. (Zitka was the elephant who liked Dick best.)

Maybe it was too comfortable - but that wouldn't make sense either. It's not like this was his first time sleeping on a full-size mattress. He spent the night at the home of new friends before. He even stayed in a hotel once.

And it wasn't the temperature that kept him awake. It was a tiny bit chilly - consequence of a big mansion, Alfred had warned him - but he slept through much worse than this. He was used to all sorts of climates.

He thought about what the problem was. He thought about it for ages. It took him so long because it was something he never even imagined before. Something he didn't think was possible. Something he had become so used to for every minute of the day that he didn't recognize it when it changed.

This room was quiet. It was so quiet he could hear his own breath.

He never really noticed the sound of his breath before. It was always being drowned out by the sound of his parents' breathing. Or his uncle's light snoring from the next cabin. Or the sound of the train clicking against the tracks. The rustle of the big top's fabric. The crackle of a fire. People working overnight. Shuffling of feet. Mumbling in the distance. Animals stirring in their cages. He couldn't even hear any crickets chirping.

There was literally no noise at all - except for him.

And now that Dick realized that it was starting to freak him out.

His breathing became heavy. He forced himself to hold his breath and strained his ears, desperate to find some trace of noise. His heart pounded, and once he could hear the blood rushing through his ears he threw the covers off and left the room.

Dick wandered through the mansion with a flashlight in his hand. The sound of his footsteps didn't comfort him. What he wanted to hear was some noise that didn't come from him. Someone breathing, at least. The silence was creating this strange, unnamed panic inside of him. He knew it was an irrational fear, but he didn't know what he'd do if he couldn't find some relief for it and quick.

Before he arrived, this giant mansion had only two people to fill it. It was no wonder Bruce slept so little here.

It was the middle of the night. And Dick figured he wasn't allowed wake up Bruce or Alfred for something they wouldn't consider important. He avoided their rooms - or at least the directions he thought were their rooms. He hadn't memorized all the different hallways yet.

Eventually he found a room with a television. His flashlight searched over the walls for a light switch, and then he flipped it on. Dick blinked against the sudden brightness, and it didn't do much to calm him down. Next he picked up the remote, read some of the buttons, and pressed the one marked "PLAY."

Nothing happened. He tried it again. And again. He stared at the remote in confusion. It took a little more trial and error to figure out he was supposed to press the "POWER" button instead. Some type of nature documentary appeared on the screen, and a woman's voice was talking about the ever-so-fascinating biology of jellyfish.

Dick breathed a sigh of relief and sat down on the sofa. He wasn't really listening to the narrator's words, but the sound of her voice and the quiet music did a lot to ease his nerves. It was just eerie to have nothing to fill all that emptiness. Soon enough he stopped being so anxious and started feeling sleepy again. He decided to relax here for just a few more minutes, and then he would walk back to that room and try again to fall asleep...

.

"Richard?" Alfred shook the sleeping boy's shoulder. "Master Richard?"

Dick stirred awake. "Huh? Wha?" He realized he was lying down on the sofa. He pushed himself to a sitting position and rubbed his eyes. After a few moments he could make out the blurry image of the manor's butler.

"Alfred...?" He said groggily, "Why are you up so late?"

"It's not late, sir. It's six in the morning," he answered. He picked up the remote and shut the TV off.

Dick blinked. He looked around the room. Alfred said it was morning, but everything was the way he left it last night.

He stood up. "I-I'm sorry..." He felt embarrassed, like he was caught doing something he shouldn't have been.

"I thought you were in bed. What were you doing out here?" Alfred asked.

"I-I couldn't sleep. I was looking for something to do..." He yawned. "I... I only wanted to be here for a little while. I'm sorry."

Alfred looked down at the boy, and he gave a little sigh. "Well, no harm done."

He led Dick back to the bedroom. After the boy yawned again, Alfred said, "I don't want you picking up any bad habits from Master Bruce. It's not healthy to stay up so late at night."

"I wasn't trying to stay up late, Alfred," Dick said. "I just couldn't sleep in that room."

Alfred thought for a moment, and then he said, "Is there a problem with the room?"

Dick looked nervous. He didn't mean to complain or sound ungrateful. "I, uh..." He decided to change the subject. "I'm sorry. I know I shouldn't have wandered off on my own. It won't happen again."

Alfred thought for several more seconds. Then he stopped walking and put a hand on Dick's shoulder. "Richard, you don't need permission to walk through the manor. This is your home now. Do you understand?"

He blinked again. And then he nodded. "Thank you."

"You mustn't be afraid of telling us when there's something wrong," Alfred said.

Dick stared at him. Slowly, he diverted his eyes to the ground. Finally, he admitted, "My room's too quiet... It was never that quiet at Haly's. Last night, I couldn't even hear anyone breathing, and I... I just freaked out... It made me feel like I was the only one left in the whole world..."

He felt worse for saying it. He felt embarrassed and stupid. But Alfred didn't make him feel that way. He just looked at him kindly and said, "We'll take care of that. I promise."

He offered his hand, and Dick took it. As they walked down the hall, Dick pressed his thumb against Alfred's wrist. It was reassuring to feel someone's pulse and remind himself that he wasn't the only one who survived that night at the circus.

.

Wally stared at him on the rooftop. "I never would have guessed you were afraid of silence," he said. "You and Batman are always hiding in the shadows and sneaking up on bad guys. Isn't it sort of your job to be quiet?"

"I can handle it much better now," Dick told him. "It was much worse in the beginning. Besides, you don't hide unless there's someone there to hide from. I don't feel alone that way." He nodded to himself. "...It was easy to feel alone back then."