"Well done, apprentice."

Dick was kneeling at Deathstroke's feet, a pleased smirk on his face. "It was my absolute pleasure, Master..."

Littering the ground was the bodies of his deceased friends, each with matching stab wounds on their torsos. Their collective blood pooled around the floor and almost definitely stained Dick's uniform, but he was beyond caring. He was too far gone to understand what he had just done.

Someone stirred from the other side of the room, attracting his attention. "Dick?" Bruce was chained to a wall, watching him with startled eyes. "What's going on?" His gaze shifted towards the fallen heroes, and then the blood splattered all over Dick's uniform. It didn't take long to put two and two together. "Why would you do this?" His eyes were steely now, and Dick knew that his acts would not be forgiven.

As if he cared.

"It's all part of the Mission, detective." Deathstroke answered cooly. "His Mission, in fact. You're not the only one who would sacrifice everything to achieve your goals."

Bruce flinched at the comment and stared at his former protege pleadingly. "Dick, please..."

"Begging now? Pathetic." Deathstroke shook his head. "I expected better from you. Some protector of Gotham you turned out to be. End him, apprentice."

"Gladly." Dick stood up and drew his sword, pointing the tip at his guardian's chest. "Any last words?"

Bruce stared at him blankly before speaking. "Wake up."

"Wha-"

"Dick, you're taking your test today. I need you to wake up." The room darkened, and the sword fell from the boy's fingertips. He heard his Master laugh darkly as the final pieces of his dream shattered ,and he was pulled towards consciousness.

Dick's eyes flew open, and he sat up with a gasp. He looked wildly around the room for any sign of Deathstroke. Instead, he found Bruce standing awkwardly next to his bed, eyes filled with concern. "Bad dream?"

"Yeah." He forced out, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. He could almost smell the metallic stench of blood from his nightmare, could see the lifeless forms of his friends behind his eyelids. As he exhaled, he forced those senses away. Deathstroke wasn't there, his friends were alive, and Bruce wasn't about to die by his hand. Everything was fine. Fine.

The bed shifted as Bruce sat next to him, and a warm hand fell onto his shoulder. "If you don't feel like going today, we can reschedule."

Right, his school placement test. He nearly forgot about that. He was half tempted to ask to stay home for the day, but decided against it. Being defeated by a mere nightmare was not what he had in mind when he escaped from Cadmus. He had to be strong like his mentor, or it would be so much easier for Deathstroke to get his hands on him. "No, I want to go." He moved away from his guardian and stood up. "I'll be ready in ten."

"If you're sure..." Bruce reluctantly stood and made his way towards the door. "If you change your mind, just let me know." He promptly left.

Like that was going to happen, Dick thought sourly. He quickly got ready, stripping himself of his sweatpants and throwing on a pair of dark jeans. When he went to look for a shirt, he paused. This would be his first time leaving the house since the Bialyan incident, so it wouldn't hurt to have a good luck charm with him.

He decided on a Batman shirt.

After that, he threw on a pair of socks and shoes and worked his way over to the bathroom across the hall. His hair was a sloppy mess, but he managed to gel it back without much hassle. Being the ward of a billionaire meant that he had to dress the part, which unfortunately meant that he had to mimic his guardian's hair style.

If he didn't know Bruce Wayne personally, he would have disliked him just because his hair.

After he had brushed his teeth and gave himself another look over in the mirror, he exited the bathroom and made his way to the staircase. He had long since disregarded all rules concerning the stairs, and chose to slide down the railing rather than take up unnecessary time by climbing down the steps.

"We have stairs for a reason, Master Dick." Alfred said as soon as he walked into the kitchen, a stern frown present. Dick didn't bother asking him how he knew- all members of the Bat family had a strange sixth sense which allowed them to know exactly what you don't want them to. Dick still didn't have that ability, which was a sign itself.

"Sorry Alfie. Won't happen again," he said with his most charming smile.

Alfred scoffed. "I might have believed you if you haven't said that after the last three incidents, sir."

Dick looked offended. "Are you calling me a liar? I would never!"

Before Alfred could counter, Bruce walked into the kitchen, adjusting his tie. "Are you ready?"

Dick turned around to face him, nodding. "Yeah. I've been studying ever since you took me in, so hopefully I'm not as stupid as before."

"You weren't ever stupid. You're a bright lad, Dick." Bruce finally caught sight of the shirt that he was wearing, and his lips came upward in a rare smile. "I don't think you'll need the strength of Batman to take a placement test."

"Probably not." He agreed. "But I might need it if my Master decides to come after me again."

The smile faded away instantly. "He isn't your Master." He said sternly, eyes narrowing. Seconds later, he forcefully relaxed. "I will make sure that no one will get to you Dick. Not now, and not ever."

"Promise?" his voice sounded so desperate that he nearly cringed.

"I promise."

The tension built up in Dick eased away. If Bruce could promise him such a thing, then he was definitely safe from any kidnapping attempts. "Okay. Are we going now?"

A frown. "Don't you want some breakfast?"

His last nightmare was still fresh in his mind. Eating was not an option right now, not unless Bruce was willing to wait while he threw it all back up. "Not hungry."

The two older men shared a look. "If you say so." Bruce said finally. "Let's get in the car."

Dick nodded in consent and followed his mentor through one of the garage doors. "Are you sure that you do not wish for me to drive you, sir?" Alfred asked Bruce as they made their way out.

"Positive. I do have a driver's license, Alfred. We'll be fine." Bruce hurriedly closed the door behind them before the butler could argue any further. He then swept his eyes over the present cars. "Well, we have sixteen cars at our disposal. Which one do you want to take?"

"Only sixteen? I expect more from you." Dick said teasingly. He then looked at the four cars in the garage they were currently in, eyebrows knit together. He had almost no information on cars in his databases, and he didn't remember his family ever traveling by automobile while in the circus. Which one was the best? Well, he knew which one was the best. He has ridden in it many times before. "You would be the best dad ever if you drove me to school in the Batmobile." Just picturing it made him grin.

Bruce laughed at that. His voice was low, and it echoed around the garage. Dick felt the his neck hair stand on end at the sound of it; it was so much like Deathstroke's laugh from his dream that he nearly thought the man himself was there. "Here, I'll pick something that won't give away our identities. And... maybe I'll let you drive the Batmobile tonight."

All thoughts of his last nightmare faded away, and he perked up immediately. "Really?"

"Sure, as long as you're good."

Who else could say that the great Batman ever let them drive his precious Batmobile? Dick grinned and was practically buzzing with excitement as he climbed into the passenger seat of his guardian's choice of vehicle. "Wait until I tell Wally!" He exclaimed as he buckled himself in.

Bruce simply chuckled in response.

xXx

When Dick emerged from Gotham Academy, he was mentally exhausted, but proud. His instructor told him that he finished the test in record time, which either meant he did very well, or very bad. Dick had a feeling it was the former; the questions were simple and didn't take much effort. He knew for a fact that he was brilliant in math, if the way he flew through it was anything to go by.

Maybe he wasn't so stupid after all.

Bruce glanced at him as he started the car. "I was expecting you to take longer. How did it go?"

"Not sure." Dick admitted. "But I think I did well on the math portion."

"I'm sure you did fine." The car backed out of the parking lot, and soon they were cruising on the street. "Want to get some ice cream?"

"Yes!" Dick exclaimed right away, sitting up straighter.

The drive to the nearest ice cream shop was short, and Dick soon held a scoop of cookie dough ice cream on a cone. Bruce tried to decline the shop owner's offer for a scoop of his own, but Dick intervened and made him get a mint chocolate. His guardian attempted to argue, but Dick silenced him with a bat-glare. Bruce was so baffled by the change of perspective that he actually accepted the cone. Dick never felt prouder.

They ate their ice cream inside, with Dick happily licking his ice cream and Bruce hesitantly eating his own. Anyone else who entered the store gawked at the two. Dick was aware of the whispers that circled around the room, and couldn't help but feel nervous. What could they possibly be saying about him? Was something wrong? When a flash of a camera made an appearance, Bruce finally took action.

"We need to go." He said quietly, eyes sweeping the crowded shop. "I didn't realize how long we've been here."

Dick frowned. "But I was having fun."

Bruce sighed. "I was too, but trust me, it's time to go." He grabbed his coat from the back of his chair and stood, urging Dick to do the same.

As soon as the boy was on his feet, he was led to the trash can on the other side of the room, where they got rid of their napkins and Bruce's remaining ice cream. The man's face was ridden with apprehension, and it increased with every step they took. Dick wondered if he was late to a board meeting or something of the sort, and felt slightly guilty for taking up so much time. He was about to apologize when-

"Bruce Wayne!"

A swarm of people appeared out of no where, trapping them in their circle. Dick flinched when a much brighter flash of light blinded him, several more following soon after. He stumbled backwards and bumped into Bruce, who put a steady hand on his shoulder. Dick looked up at him and saw that his eyes were narrowed into a perfect bat-glare. The boy gulped and lowered his gaze, unaware of what caused the chaos.

"Mr. Wayne, who is this boy?"

"Is this your son?"

"Bruce, have you taken in a child to show your support for the newest orphanage?"

There were several mutters of "charity case" as reporters scribbled some notes down. Dick felt his face heat up as more and more questions were asked. People were surrounding him at all sides, the flashes of light made his head hurt, and their chattering voices came together in a cluster of noise. It was all so confusing, and the closer the reporters got, the sicker Dick felt. His senses were being so occupied that it would only take a quick shove to take him out of commission.

Deathstroke was waiting for an opportunity such as this.

That thought made his resolve crumble, and he just about clung to Bruce's suit as he tried to keep his panic at bay. This only seemed to encourage the reporters; some of the females declared how adorable he was for clinging to his father and took even more pictures.

"Get back." Bruce said angrily. "Leave us alone."

There was another murmur, this one sounding like a mix of "protective father," and "only pretending." Dick squeezed his eyes shut as they continued to shout questions and shove each other away for a clearer shot. Bruce tried to push through them, but with Dick clinging to him like a lifeline and the persistence of the reporters, it was impossible to do so while hiding his strength. The reporters started to ramble more, now spitting insults at both Bruce and Dick. The familiar buzz of electronics gathered in the back of Dick's head, growing stronger with every photo.

When someone tried to pull Dick away from Bruce, something snapped.

Every camera made a strange buzzing noise, and Dick pried his eyes open to see a faint cloud of smoke raise from all present electronics. The crowd of reporters shared shouts of alarm as they dropped their devices, their hands now a bright pink color. Bruce removed himself from Dick and fished his cell out of his pocket. He quickly dropped it too, the phone being to hot to handle.

Dick's panic was completely forgotten, and a small smirk appeared on his face as he observed the fearful expressions. Bruce didn't appear to notice him, too focused on the reporters. "Let's go." He said lowly, grabbing him by the shoulder and steering him out of the crowd.

Dick pulled himself out of his grasp and scowled. "Don't manhandle me. I can walk myself." He snapped.

Bruce retracted his hand, a brief look of surprise crossing his features. His eyes met Dick's before narrowing ever so slightly, analyzing him. He then looked away and continued on, not waiting for Dick to catch up. The two entered the car in silence, which stuck around until they pulled up in front of Wayne Manor. "You did that." Bruce suddenly said.

Dick didn't need to ask what he was talking about. "Yeah, so?"

Bruce turned the key, and the car went silent. "I thought you were only capable of hacking."

He shrugged in response, climbing out of the vehicle.

"Dick, stop." Bruce appeared next to him, face unreadable. "We need to talk about this."

"About what? Okay, so I have a new ability. Big whoop. I'll try adding it into my training schedule. Happy?"

Bruce narrowed his eyes. "You shouldn't have other abilities."

"That's a bit selfish. It's not my fault that you don't have powers."

"That's not what I'm saying." Bruce pinched the bridge of his nose, calming his frustration. "Manhunter scanned your mind for any programming and saw the extent of your abilities. Hacking was the only thing he could find, Dick."

Dick froze. "What are you saying?"

"He needs to check you over again. If what I'm thinking is true..." Bruce sighed.

His fear was replaced by anger, and he pushed Bruce away from him. "Then what? Are you going to toss me to the side and get yourself another kid?" He asked in a snarl. "I bet you'll lock me up in some cell until you can figure out what to do with me. Act like I don't exist, pretend I never escaped from Cadmus." He laughed, but it was hollow and sounded wild. "But I guess I can't blame you, how could I? I'm a freak. None of my memories add up, I have weird powers that I used to hurt those reporters, I'm a former drug addict who still has the need to get a fix..."

Bruce put both hands on his shoulders, eyes wide. "Dick. Stop." His hands then moved to Dick's, prying them off of his arms. Dick didn't even realize that he had been digging his nails into his own skin, hard enough to draw blood.

He rambled on anyways. "Panic attacks left and right, I've been trained to kill at an early age, I'm the most useless member on the Team, I've been downloading information on everyone in the League, and now I can't-"

"Wait." Bruce's face hardened. "What was that last one?"

Dick's breath caught in his throat. No. No. Nonono. No one was supposed to find out about that, especially not Bruce. His head was bombarded with thoughts of abandonment, the people he cared about looking at him in disgust, him having to run away, and thoughts of being left alone to fend for himself. His former friends would hunt him down, try to find a way to get rid of the information he had, and possibly kill him if they couldn't. Batman was against killing, but he could definitely turn a blind eye if his own identity was at risk.

"Dick. Look at me."

He couldn't. He kept his head tilted towards the ground, tears gathering in his eyes. He wouldn't be able to handle the look of disappointment on Bruce's face. To see the person who he looked up to to look at him with such contempt would break him. The frail pieces of his mental stability would shatter, and his dim light would be extinguished. He couldn't do this, he just couldn't.

"Dick..." Bruce crouched in front of him. "I need you to tell me what's going on, or I can't help you."

Dick buried his face in his hands, letting out a sob. "I can't. You won't like me anymore."

There was a moment of silence before he was pulled into a crushing hug. "There isn't anything that will make me not like you. Nothing. Understand?"

Dick couldn't answer, he could barely breath with all of his crying. His chest shook as he hiccuped, and his sobs only grew worse when Bruce tried to calm him by rubbing his back. He was sure that he created a huge wet spot on his guardian's shoulder, but the man didn't seem to mind. Yet.

Bruce let him get it out of his system, saying a few soothing words every so often. Dick eventually ran out of tears, and was left feeling exhausted. His eyes stung, his throat was dry, and his body shook. His guardian soon led him inside and sat him down on the nearest sofa, kneeling down in front of him.

"Master Bruce, is that you? You have been gone for a long-" Alfred walked in, and caught sight of Dick's tear stained face. "My word, what happened to the young Master?"

"Please, leave us." Bruce said softly. Dick went back to hiding his face, another round of hiccups making a reappearance.

"Of course, sir. Shall I put together a cup of hot chocolate for Master Dick?"

"Please." When Alfred left, Bruce pried Dick's hands away from his face. "Hey chum, I need you to tell me what's going on." When the boy remained quiet, he sighed. "Please Dick? This could be very serious."

Dick nodded, eyes downcast. He quietly told him about the downloaded information that his chip had stored, explaining how the data could be found even when he suffered from amnesia. He even told him about the battle advice that he was given for each League and Team member. Bruce listened without interrupting, no clear emotions being displayed. When Dick finished, Bruce simply nodded, and squeezed his shoulder gently. "We'll figure this out." He promised. "You should have told me earlier, Dick. If Manhunter couldn't find this or your other abilities when he was going through your head, there's no telling what else he missed."

Dick stared at him. "Y-you're not mad?"

Bruce maneuvered himself onto the seat next to him and pulled him into another strong hug. "I'm not angry. This is completely out of your control. I'm slightly disappointed that you didn't think you could tell me this earlier. Look, I didn't take you in just for the fun of it. I care about your well-being, and I will go through great lengths to keep you safe. This hidden programming could possibly get you killed, and I don't want to see that happen."

Dick sniffled. "But those reporters said that I'm just a charity case. Why would you care if I died?"

"You are not a charity case. Don't ever think that."

"O-okay." There was another period of silence. Neither Bruce nor Dick moved, not even when Alfred set two mugs of hot chocolate on the coffee table. After another minute, Dick spoke. "My mom used to make me hot cocoa when I was sad."

"Yeah?" Bruce took a mug and handed it to him before taking the other for himself. They both took small sips of their drinks before putting them back down.

Dick curled up, tucking his knees towards his chest and setting his head on his mentor's side. He felt like a small child again, having to rely on a parent to give him comfort. He didn't feel weak for it, though. A realization came to him: he was a child. Most of his reactions could be blamed on his age and/or the trauma he went through in his early years.

It was nice not hating himself for once.

"My parents had difficulty teaching me English." He said quietly. "I couldn't grasp the concept of prefixes and suffixes. I kept making up words that didn't exist... Eventually, my parents turned it into a game. I actually learned faster that way."

"And that's why you mess with words now." Bruce said softly.

"Yeah. I forgot what the purpose of it was for a while, but I still did it. It cheered me up when I was at my lowest points. I had a distant memory of having fun with it, so I continued. Drove the scientists insane."

Bruce chuckled lightly. "I bet it did. Your parents sound like nice people."

"They were..."

Another silence came over them, the occasional sip of cocoa being the only noise made. Finally, Bruce spoke again, "My father used to call me chum whenever I was upset."

Dick looked at him. He remembered back in the bio ship, he was so ridden with panic that he barely registered those who surrounded him, but then Bruce came and calmed him down. He called him chum back then. Come to think of it, he did the same thing just a few minutes ago. "Is that why...?"

Bruce nodded silently.

Dick smiled. "I'm glad you care so much."

Bruce ruffled his hair. "Of course I do. I wasn't lying when I said that before." He smiled warmly. "So, are you traught enough to wash up for dinner, or do you need another minute?"

Dick stared at him in confusion. "Traught?" His brain slowly made sense of it. Distraught - traught. He couldn't help but grin like an idiot when he realized what he was doing. "I dunno... I kind of want to see how long you'll let me lay on you. Blackmail material, of course."

Bruce snorted. "Me being Batman isn't good enough for blackmail?"

"You probably have a gazillion plans ready in case I reveal your identity."

"And you assume that I don't have any in case you reveal how parental I can be?"

"... Point taken."

No words were exchanged after that, and dinner wasn't brought up again. Dick eventually grew drowsy, and ended up dozing off. Sometime later, a warm blanket was placed over him and woke him up. He tiredly looked around but found that he was in the same exact room, and still laying on Bruce. The man had his eyes closed, and was breathing deeply, a similar blanket resting on top of him. Dick smiled to himself and put his head back down, feeling completely at ease for the first time in a while.

xXx

AN: I'm such a liar. "Once a week," I said. "It'll be fun." I said. Only, it wasn't fun, because my inspiration for this story took a hike and I had to hunt it down.

But anyways, remember when Dick deactivated the Fog a few chapters back? Yeah, he did something kinda weird. He did the same kind of thing in this chapter, but it's more exaggerated than last time.

Hint: it's the way he acts.

Thanks for reading, and thanks for your patience! :)