A/N: Thanks for commenting, JessicaRae95! :)

Gracias por comentar, Guest! :)


For the third time in less than two months, Dick Grayson woke up in a hospital bed. Bruce was pacing around the room, and Alfred was staring out the window.

"What did I do this time?" the boy quietly asked.

Bruce stopped pacing and turned around, surprise on his face. They had only been in the hospital for half an hour, and Dick was already awake!

"Master Dick, I highly doubt that you are the one at fault here," Alfred answered as he, too, turned toward the bed. "However, we only know one side of the story."

"What happened between you and a kid named Nick?" Bruce asked, failing miserably at his attempt to not interrogate the boy.

"Nick."

The nine-year-old closed his mouth and shook his head. He grimaced, and carefully touched a tender spot on his head.

"Nick…" Bruce prompted.

"I think I got in a fight. But I didn't start it, Bruce, I swear! I was just trying to eat lunch, and this kid came and sat down and then Nick was there!"

"I believe you, chum," Bruce assured him. "But I need to know exactly what happened."

"I don't remember everything."

"That's okay, just tell me what you do remember."

"I was getting ready to eat lunch and a kid sat down across from me. He stole my tray and I was going to take it back, but then Nick grabbed my arm…"

Dick paused again, causing Bruce to ask, "Who is Nick? How do you know him?"

"Sam."

The word was a whisper.

"What does Sam have to do with Nick?"

"When Chuck, um…when he was gone, Nick became Sam's second-in-command."

"Son of a fricking biscuit eater," Bruce muttered.

Sam'll kill me!

Nick's last statement floated through Bruce's mind. Nick had been Sam's outside man, and now the outside man was going to be back inside.

Too bad for him.

It was a sarcastic thought, Bruce really didn't care about what was going to happen to Nick. The millionaire had no doubt that the teen had been given one objective: get Dick to do something that would get him sent back to the detention center.

"Mr. Wayne, you can take him home."

The quiet voice of the young nurse pulled Bruce out of his thoughts.

"Just don't let him go running around yet," she said with a smile. "Dr. Thompkins told us you are quite capable of caring for a small wound in a young child's abdomen."

The second sentence was directed at Alfred, who almost smirked at the look of chagrin on Bruce's face.

"Well, okay, let's go," Bruce stated as he began gathering Dick's things.

"Thank you, miss," Alfred said to the nurse.

"Anytime," she replied with another smile. "Please try to keep this brave boy safe for at least a month this time. I don't want him to become a 'regular' whose breakfast order I have memorized."

She laughed – a quiet, tinkling sound – and left the room.

Half an hour later the three of them were in Wayne Manor. Dick was resting on the couch, and Bruce had just sat down in the chair across from him to read the paper.

"Bruce!" the boy suddenly cried.

"What is it, Dick, what's wrong?!" the man exclaimed, dropping the paper and jumping to his feet.

"The police officer, he wasn't really a police officer!"

Bruce sat back down when he discovered that Dick wasn't in immediate danger or a copious amount of pain.

"Which one?" the man asked calmly. "There were a lot of them in there."

"There were?"

"Yes, chum. You were pretty out of it, though, from what Commissioner Gordon told me. What about the police officer?"

"Nick, he said I tried to kill him, so I got angry…again."

The nine-year-old paused, so Bruce commented, "It's okay to be angry when someone says something like that. Maybe Batman will pay this Nick kid a visit," he mused softly.

"Then the police officer told me to calm down, but he wasn't a police officer. He was the guy…the…"

Dick stopped talking as the man's face appeared in his mind. The memory overwhelmed him, and he suddenly couldn't breathe. He felt the cloth across his nose, and the wrinkled hand on his chin, and he saw the fuzzy blob that the man's face had become right before he had passed out.

"…breathe, chum, come on!"

The frantic words of the millionaire pulled Dick back to the present. He gasped, sucking in precious oxygen in an automatic movement that he had momentarily forgotten how to do.

"Okay," Bruce said, relief evident in his voice, "you're okay."

"The guy who pushed me in the water," the nine-year-old whispered shakily.

"Tony Zucco's guy?!" Bruce exclaimed. "How in the heck did Zucco get a false police officer into a locked down school?!"

"I don't know, I'm…"

"Don't say it, Dick," the man commanded.

"Okay, so…"

"Dick."

"Um, I don't have anything to say, I guess."

"The fact that Zucco had an inside man who was able to impersonate a police officer is not – in any way, shape, or form – your fault. You had no way of knowing, so there is no need for an apology. You really need to stop apologizing for every little thing that happens, chum."

"But if it's my fault…"

"How is any part of that situation your fault?" Bruce interrupted.

Dick was stumped, because Bruce was right. There was no possible way that the nine-year-old could have known that a criminal would have an inside man on the police force.

"Um, it's not."

"Exactly!" Bruce exclaimed triumphantly. "Before you apologize about anything, I want you to ask yourself that question. Think about the situation, and ask yourself if there was any way you could have known about it or predicted it. Then you can decide whether or not it was your fault."

"Okay, sor…I mean, okay."

"Thank you, kiddo. Now, are you okay to rest by yourself? I need to go downstairs to do some research."

"Yeah, I'm kind of tired."

"You can take a nap. I'll let Alfred know what I'm doing so he can watch over you."

"He doesn't have to hover," Dick stated with a grin.

"Smart aleck," Bruce responded with a matching grin. "He'll check in on you, not hover over you."

Standing up again, Bruce walked over to the couch and grabbed the blanket hanging over the back. He carefully tucked it around his ward, then brushed a stray lock of hair away from the boy's eyes.

"Sleep well, kiddo, I'll take care of this."

Dick hummed in response, his eyes already closed. Bruce stared down at him for a moment, wondering why he was lucky enough to have this amazing child in his life. Shaking himself out of the moment, the man strode to his study, determined to find and take down Tony Zucco.


Dick opened his eyes when he heard the study door close. Batman was going to find Tony Zucco, and the nine-year-old had finally figured out the face that went with the name. Tony Zucco had killed The Flying Graysons, and Dick wasn't going to allow the guy to get away with that.

He already had a plan. Taking his anger out on punching dummies had helped him become stronger. When he had realized that, Dick had created a workout to help his entire body gain strength, not just his arms. Because Dick had decided to find the fat guy with the white stripes in his black hair. But he wouldn't be able to take the man down if he was skinny and weak.

The nine-year-old's body was already athletic and strong from his nine years of circus training. His muscles didn't grow powerful, like those of Batman. They grew long, increasing his speed while not adding unnecessary weight. All he had to do now was find Tony Zucco so he could take him down. And Batman was about to do the first part for him.


Two nights later:

Batman had heard rumors, whisperings of a weapons shipment coming into Gotham Harbor in the next few days. Several names had been tossed about, including Tony Zucco. The Caped Crusader had circled the harbor several times last night, and was preparing to go out again.

He had already checked on Dick, who was sleeping peacefully for the first time in a while. Bruce and Alfred had decided that the butler would stay in the house with Dick until Zucco had been captured. Batman wasn't going to take any chances with the boy's life.

A quick glance at the harbor camera he had hacked into showed calm waters. Adjusting his gloves, Batman climbed into the Batmobile and roared out of the tunnel. The little stowaway on the floor in the backseat stayed completely quiet, willing to patiently wait for his chance to take down the man who had shattered his life.


Gotham Harbor:

Batman parked the Batmobile and climbed out. He had half a mile to traverse from the alley where he had hidden the vehicle to the docks. It took him three minutes, and when he arrived he immediately began circling the perimeter.


Dick waited until he couldn't hear the sound of boots quietly crunching on gravel. Then he counted to sixty, just to be safe. Unfolding himself from his curled position on the floor, he stood up and climbed out of the Batmobile.

The alley was dark and quiet. Dick quickly ran toward the dim light that signaled the end of the alley. He discovered, when he stepped out of the darkness, that it was easy to choose which way to go. To his left was a row of small stores, but the view on his right was filled with tall buildings and the sounds of boats gently bumping against wooden docks. He went right.

It took Dick two minutes longer to get there due to his shorter legs. He arrived just as a large boat quietly slipped into an empty bay. The nine-year-old knew he wouldn't be able to see anything from his current vantage point, so he went up.

The short building in front of him had obviously been abandoned. A window had been shattered, and the front door was half-open. Dick chose to go through the window, which was on the side of the building, instead of putting himself in plain sight by going to the front.

A set of stairs greeted him, and he immediately sprinted up to the door that led to the roof. Kneeling down, Dick quietly crawled his way to the edge. He now had a perfect view of the large vessel, and the people moving around on the dock.

The nine-year-old couldn't make out features, but he didn't need to see the man to recognize the voice.

"There should be five crates! Why are there only four in front of me?!"

Dick remembered that tone with a clarity that scared him. Maybe he shouldn't have come. What could he do, anyway? He was a child, and the big man probably had a gun. And there were – Dick paused his thoughts in order to count – eleven other men that he could see. They probably had weapons, also.

This was a dumb idea.

Suddenly, Batman appeared from the shadows cast by the building on Dick's right. Somebody yelled a warning, and the eleven men immediately attacked. To Dick's surprise, Tony Zucco lumbered through the broken door of the dilapidated building underneath him.

Without thinking, Dick jumped to his feet and sprinted back to the access door. It hadn't closed all the way, so he was able to slip in without making a sound. Tony Zucco was staring at the long flight of stairs, debating whether or not to ascend them. Dick realized he wouldn't be able to get to the man if he went that way, so he looked around the room in search of a different way down.

The building was a warehouse that was approximately the size of a two-story house. Small, for a warehouse, but big enough that Zucco didn't see or hear the nine-year-old scooting himself across a beam in the rafters.

It was his only other option, and Dick wasn't scared of heights. He was small enough to feel secure on the thick beam, so his fear of falling was not a hinderance. If he could get to the middle, he could swing himself down to the crossbeam. It would still be a long fall, but the nine-year-old was confident that he could keep himself safe by landing on Zucco.


Batman watched the boat dock, but stayed in the shadows. He had to find out if Tony Zucco was there before confronting the criminals. The hero didn't have to wait long. Zucco's easily-recognizable, rough voice rang out through the stillness of the night. Batman didn't waste time.

Racing out of the shadows, the Caped Crusader headed straight for the mobster. He was immediately surrounded by the man's henchmen. As he began retaliating against the plethora of punches flying at and around him, Batman took notice of the fact that Zucco had retreated into a crumbling building.

It took him longer than he would have liked to take down all the men. When the last one finally fell to the ground, the Caped Crusader stalked toward the small warehouse. Batman strode straight through the door, and the scene that met him caused him to freeze in shock.