"What's your uncle like?" Wally suddenly asked.

Dick didn't answer. He seemed uncomfortable.

"You still see him, right?" Wally added.

Eventually, Dick said, "Not as much as I should..."

.

The building was called an "assisted living facility." It was basically one part hospital and one part retirement home. Dick thought it was an awful place to live.

Still, Dick Grayson went there on December 1st, local time - his tenth birthday - his first birthday without his parents.

It wasn't in Gotham City, or even the same state. Bruce Wayne made a point of looking around for the best one. The drive was nearly two hours long, but Alfred didn't complain. Dick didn't say much during the ride either.

They signed in at the lobby, and Alfred volunteered to wait for him there. Dick went up to the room by himself. The hallways were white and sterile clean.

The door to the room was open. Dick stood out of sight beyond the doorway for a moment. There were a lot of uncomfortable, unnamed emotions swirling inside him, but Dick took a deep breath and put on a brave, smiling face, just like his aunt taught him at the circus.

That's just show business, Dick. Some days you're sad but the show goes on.

He stepped into the doorway. He didn't announce himself, just made eye contact with the room's occupant. A man lay back on the bed with his torso slightly raised. A caretaker stood nearby.

The man was Richard "Rick" Grayson - Dick's uncle and namesake. He smiled at the newcomer. Then he told his caretaker, "Can we have some time alone?"

The younger man nodded, and quietly walked past Dick on the way out.

His uncle was on the verge of death after that fall at the circus. He was in a coma for a while, and they knew even if he did wake up we would have little to no mobility in all his limbs. Dick never went to visit him at the hospital while he was unconscious. It had been several months since he woke up and got settled in this home, but in all that time Dick only saw him two or three times.

Dick hesitantly walked into the room, still smiling. "Hello, uncle," he said in Romanian.

His uncle smiled again and closed his eyes. "I've missed hearing that language," he replied in Romanian.

It felt like another needle prick in his chest. Dick's face twitched, but he walked closer and sat in the chair facing the bed. There wasn't much more furniture in the tiny apartment, except a wheelchair in the corner. There was a television in easy view of the bed, and a radio. Dick ignored them all and focused on his uncle's face.

"Happy birthday, Little Bird," his uncle said.

His family called him that sometimes. Dick had always loved birds.

"Thanks," Dick said. He struggled to find something else to say. "How are you" wouldn't come out easily.

His uncle spoke up again first. "Isn't today a school day?" he asked with a smirk and a raised eyebrow.

Dick hesitated, then shrugged casually. "The school loves Bruce. They're not going to care if I miss one day."

His uncle laughed. "Still a trouble-maker, huh? Little John was a bad influence on you."

Dick was glad to hear that his uncle was okay with talking about his son John.

"So how is school?" his uncle asked.

He hesitated again. Then he put on an even bigger smile than before. "It's great. It's a lot of work, but it's still really fun. And everyone there is really nice. I've made a lot of friends."

His uncle smiled knowingly and kind of sadly. "You still can't fool me, Little Bird. I can still tell when you're lying."

Dick lost his smile. He lowered his eyes to his lap. "I'm sorry..."

"You can tell me. How is it?"

"It's..." He shrugged. "I don't know. It's not bad. It's just... The kids are all... They made me feel..."

"Different?"

"Yeah..."

"I know that's tough, but it'll be okay. Just give it more time. Kids your age can adapt to anything," his uncle said optimistically.

That's something Dick had heard a lot. Children adjust to new environments. He'll bounce right back. But the words felt hollow to Dick. It hadn't been that easy.

He spat out what he needed to say. "I'm sorry I don't visit you more often."

"It's okay," his uncle said gently. Dick didn't really think it was, though. "I know you're busy in Gotham." That wasn't really why he never came.

He made sure not to stare at his uncle's arms or legs.

"Is Mr. Wayne here too?" his uncle asked.

Dick shook his head. "No. He's even busier in Gotham. Alfred drove me today... And you can call him Bruce. Only people who don't know him call him Mr. Wayne."

"I still don't know him that well," his uncle replied. "I owe him everything, though. Taking care of you. Paying for all this," his eyes looked around the room. "I can't thank him enough."

"Yeah, me neither," Dick nodded.

"That being said... Is he treating you okay?" He looked at Dick seriously.

The boy blinked. "Yeah, Bruce is great."

"You don't have any problem with him then?"

"No." Dick tilted his head. "Well, he's really busy. I can't always see him whenever I want. Especially when I first moved in, but it's better now. And... People don't know this about him, but he doesn't really like himself. He doesn't really think he's a good person, but he's wrong. He's a REALLY great man. I'm glad I met him."

His uncle smiled. "That's great, then."

"Bruce has done a lot for me. Not just letting me stay with him, or paying for stuff. He's a taught me a lot of things..." Dick remembered something and smiled brightly. "I know computer code now. I can program stuff."

"That's impressive."

"Yeah. I'm still a beginner. I'm still learning, but turns out, I'm REALLY good at it. Even Bruce says so, and he doesn't give compliments unless he means it."

"You always were good with numbers," he uncle said proudly.

"Actually, math is only a one part of computer programming. It's more like learning a new language, and figuring out how the computer understands it, and figuring out all the different ways to say the same thing. Like, no matter what you have, you can always add new layers to it. There's always something new to do. Like, if you want to find a back door to a certain block of code, you can try..." Dick realized he was starting to ramble, and smiled sheepishly. "I don't know how to describe it without going into the whole thing."

"I'm happy for you, Dick. It sounds like you're doing really well for yourself."

This conversation was hard for Dick. It was hard for him to know what topics were safe to say out loud. There were things he wanted to say... Things he needed to say... Things he could never say.

"Did you like your present?" his uncle asked.

"What?"

"You know, the Hans Christian Andersen book. The French translation," he explained. He seemed disappointed at Dick's confusion. "Didn't it arrive in the mail yet?"

"N-No," Dick shook his head.

"Oh." His uncle smiled. "Sorry for spoiling the surprise."

"You got that for me?"

"It's the same book your mom got you, except in French. I thought you might enjoy reading it in a different language. So I asked the staff to find it online, and they ordered it with my money."

"You didn't have to do that," Dick said.

"Of course I did," his uncle replied incredulously. "What kind of uncle forgets his favorite nephew on his tenth birthday?"

Dick stared at him for a little while. He sniffed, and he started to blink a lot.

"I'm sorry," Dick's voice cracked.. He lowered his head. "I'm really sorry."

"For what?"

"For never being here..."

"I told you that's okay."

"No it's not!" Dick snapped, which shocked his uncle. Dick's eyes were watering. "You're all alone here. I'm all you have left, so I should be here more!"

"You come when you can," his uncle said gently, understandingly.

"No I don't! I stay away on purpose," Dick cried. He really cried. Tears dripped on his face and he took shaky, shuddering breaths. He finally spat out what he was ashamed of. "I can't stand seeing you like this! I'm sorry, but I HATE coming here, and thinkin' about what happened, and mom an' dad, an'...!" He started slurring his Romanian words. "But - But I know you need me! I'm all you have left. I know I'm not suppose' to leave you alone, and I'm sorry! I'm sorry, I'm sorry..."

By this point Dick bent his head down low and was sobbing uncontrollably, talking incoherently.

"No, no, Dick. It's okay... It's okay, Dick... Look at me." His uncle wanted to hold his head, but he had to settle for talking. "Look at me, Richard! Look at my face," he said firmly, in that voice adults use when they want children to listen.

Dick lifted his head and sniffed hard.

"You are not doing anything wrong, Richard," his uncle said firmly.

"Bu - But-!"

"I mean it. It is NOT your job to look after me." He smiled. "You're the same as always, Little Bird. You're always in such a hurry to grow up. You're so smart, and strong, and you work hard, it's easy to forget you're only a little boy. You shouldn't force yourself to do things you're not ready for."

Dick sniffed again, wiping his tears and snot on his hands.

"I know you don't like seeing me this weak," his uncle continued. "The truth is, I don't like looking this weak in front of you either. When I first woke up, I told you not to come, remember?"

"But I should'a come anyway," Dick whimpered. "I should'a been stronger..."

"I'M the one who was supposed to take care of YOU. I don't want you to worry about me. I want you to get on with your life," his uncle replied.

"But what about you...? Don't you hate it here...?"

"Of course I hate it," he said casually. "I don't want to be in this bed or in that wheelchair. I want to be out jumping and spinning. I want my wife and son and your parents alive. But... it is what it is. I just have to get the hell on with it. We both do."

Dick's lip trembled. He sniffed and wiped his nose again.

"And I'm not doing nothing all day, waiting for you to visit, you know." His uncle thought for a moment. "I watch movies now - Never had much time for that before," he added with a smirk. "I've been reading a lot - Well, listening - Audiobooks, mostly. I'm trying to learn new things. I read biographies from famous people. I'm thinking of writing one of my own, actually... I talk with the other residents here. I have friends... It's not much of a life, but it's not all bad. I make it work."

He looked at Dick seriously. "I know you miss the others. I miss them too. I don't want you to worry about me on top of that. I want you to be busy in Gotham, learning new things. You take care of yourself. You can take as much time as you need before coming back."

Dick wiped his hands on his sleeves. When he got them as clean as they were going to get, he reached out towards his uncle - then pulled back - hesitantly moving his hands around, unsure where to put them. He stared at his uncle's useless arms and legs. "C-Can I hug you...?"

"Of course."

Dick stood up and leaned close to his uncle, slowly, hesitantly holding his shoulders and pressing against his body.

His uncle spoke in Dick's ear. "That one night ruined a big part of my life. Don't you dare let it ruin yours too, Little Bird... You grow up... And you be amazing."

"I love you," Dick whispered. And it was true. Dick didn't think he was very good at it, but he did love him.

Inside, he wondered how sincere his uncle's words were. Maybe he didn't even like seeing Dick because the boy reminded him of the others. Maybe he was thinking things he forced himself not to say, just as Dick had always been thinking things he forced himself not to say. Things he didn't think it would be okay to say out loud, like:

Are you really okay here, just sitting around never moving?

Do you think about the family?

Do you think about dying?

Do you ever think it would be better if you didn't survive that night?

Ten-year-old Dick never said those things, to anyone.

.

Twelve-year-old Dick sat on the rooftop hugging his knees to his chest. He was extremely quiet.

Fifteen-year-old Wally watched his friend, thinking about the story he heard. He spent a while respecting the silence, and then he decided to deliberately lighten the mood.

"So," Wally spoke up, "you and your uncle are both named Richard?"

"Yes," Dick answered without lifting his head.

"And your dad and your cousin are both named John?" Wally asked.

"Yes," Dick answered.

"And your middle name is also John?" Wally asked.

"Yes," Dick answered.

"Okay, next question: Did your family not know any other names?!" Wally said incredulously.

That made Dick raise his head. "It's tradition," he said defensively. "Naming someone after a relative shows that they have a place in the family."

"That's what the family name is for," Wally replied. "Besides, having all those people with the same name - didn't that get confusing around the circus?"

"No," Dick said simply.

"Really?" Wally said with surprise. "Never?"

"Well," Dick titled his head, "it was a wild place to start with."

.

Author's Notes: (Posted 3/8/2017) I didn't make up Dick's uncle Rick. I think only his parents existed in the main comics, but in the comic based on the Young Justice cartoon, it confirmed Dick had a bigger family and that his uncle survived the fall. I hate it when comic book families reuse the same names for all the extended relatives and middle names (I'm looking at you, Peter Parker). I was going to change the uncle's name, but then decided to lampshade it instead.

Please review. I'm still very eager for feedback.