A/N: Just so you know, name changes are intentional. The name of the twelve-year-old depends on each character's point of view. Hopefully that makes sense. :)

Batman had slipped into the main tent through the back entrance. He watched the Flying Rossellis climb the rope ladder from his spot in the shadows of the bleachers. Nobody knew he was there; they were all focused on the spectacular show they were about to witness.

The spotlights landed on the aerialists, and Batman didn't miss the fact that Dominic was hiding behind his brother. The father jumped off his platform and began swinging. Batman counted two and a half swings, then watched the boy take off.

Dominic swung forward, then back again. Batman narrowed his eyes as he tried to remember at least part of what he had seen last night. The Caped Crusader was fairly sure that Dominic had flipped right away.

The boy's right hand slipped off the bar, and the crowd gasped. Batman almost jumped into action, but held himself back from running to catch the twelve-year-old. He was being paranoid again; there was a safety net. And perhaps the young aerialist had meant to do it. Bruce hadn't memorized the routine; maybe it was part of the act.

It must be, Batman concluded, because Dominic let go and executed a smooth double back. His wrists landed right in his father's steady hands. The man released the boy at the platform, and the hero saw the mother bend down slightly. Then it was her turn.

As she grabbed the bar and took off, Batman saw the boy drop to his knees. He was hunched over, as if he was in some kind of pain. Or maybe he was stretching a muscle that had suddenly become tight. Perhaps he was flexing his hands to keep them mobile while he waited for his turn.

An empty bar was swinging back toward Dominic. Standing up, the boy jumped off the platform and easily caught the bar. He executed another double backflip, and Batman noted the addition of a half twist. But then Dominic was reaching for his mother with only one arm.

Batman almost jumped into action again, but the woman easily caught her son and swung him up to the platform. The hero closed his eyes, attempting to review last night's performance. He didn't remember any one-armed tricks, but he wasn't an aerialist. It could be that they had a backup routine so they didn't perform the same one every night.

The sudden silence caused the hero to reopen his eyes. He was shocked to see Dominic slowly climbing down the rope ladder. Alone, as everyone stared at him. Apparently, the young aerialist had messed up again – so badly that he was being cut from the rest of the performance. Batman couldn't even imagine the shame that must be flowing in the boy's veins at that moment. If Dominic was as passionate as he had seemed to be last night when talking with his father, this was not a moment he was going to easily forget.

A whistle sounded high above the crowd, and their attention was diverted from the boy back up to the platform. The mother jumped off, and the performance continued. But Batman was still watching the twelve-year-old, who had just landed lightly on the floor and was walking toward the back exit. He passed right by the hero without even noticing him, and Batman heard the hitched breathing that usually meant pain or tears. Maybe both, the man decided as he turned to follow the boy out of the tent.

Dick slipped out of the tent and headed for the trailer of The Flying Rossellis. He walked around to the back, where there was a large poster depicting the family that was used as an advertisement. Of course, he was excluded from the picture, just in case Circus Fazioli happened to travel past Haly's Circus. The twelve-year-old would probably be recognized by a member of that troupe, and nobody in Circus Fazioli wanted that to happen.

The boy stared at the picture for a moment, then grabbed an edge and tried to pull it off. His right arm refused to help, so he gave up and dropped to his knees, cradling the injured appendage to his chest again.

The pain in his arm was intense, but not nearly as intense as the pain in his heart. Dick had nearly fallen, just as his parents had three years ago. Nobody knew it, but everyone had seen him shamefully climbing down the ladder. For the first time in his life, he was glad nobody knew he was a Flying Grayson. He had embarrassed the Rossellis, not the Graysons, so it didn't really matter.

But Dick had never been cut from a performance, and he was humiliated. He knew Marco was going to expect him to go out and greet members of the crowd after the show, but there was no way he could face any of them. Maybe he should just go to the customs box now.

Dick made a decision and stood up. Turning around, he almost walked straight into the chest of the bat-like person he had seen before. Mumbling an 'excuse me', he walked around the tall man and headed for the elephant cage. He climbed up the steps and went straight to the customs box.

It was long, like a rectangular coffin, and he easily fit inside. Grabbing the lid, the twelve-year-old pulled it down and left himself in almost complete darkness. The only thing keeping him from thinking he was buried alive was the fact that there were breathing holes, many of them, right above his face.

Batman quietly followed the boy as he wandered toward a small trailer. Instead of going inside, he went around to the back. The hero watched in confusion as Dominic attempted to pull the large poster off the trailer, and he noted the use of only one arm. He also noticed, after a quick study of the picture, that only three of the aerialists were depicted. Dominic was already better than the others, so why was the budding star the only one not pictured?

The hero watched Dominic sink to his knees, much like he had on the platform less than ten minutes ago. He carefully placed his right arm in the cradle made by his left, and Batman recognized the pose. It was the one most people automatically used when their arm was injured. He walked toward the boy, intending to find out what had happened.

The twelve-year-old suddenly stood up and turned around right as the man came upon him. Batman heard what sounded like "excuse me" before the boy made his way around him and walked away. He watched, slightly suspicious, as the boy climbed into the trailer that was clearly reserved for the elephants.

Circling around to the back of that large trailer, Batman peered in through the bars. His eyes widened in disbelief when he saw Dominic lay down in a long, rectangular box and close the lid. There was a lock on the outside of the box, and the hero assumed that meant the boy was used to being locked inside. Anger bubbled in his veins.

"Dom, hey, where are you? We gotta go meet people!"

The voice of the older boy floated through the air. Batman saw…Roberto?...walk into the trailer of The Flying Rossellis and come right back out less than thirty seconds later. Without hesitation, the older boy walked straight to the elephant cage.

"Dom," he whispered as he climbed up the steps, "I know you're here, but I don't know why you're already in the customs box."

Rob lifted the lid and stared down at the younger boy. Batman moved closer so he could better see and hear.

"He shouldn't have done that, Dom, but you shouldn't have done it either. What were you thinking?"

"I'm not Dom, so stop calling me that."

The boy's voice was full of rage, and Batman saw the older son's eyes widen.

"You can't say that when people are around, you're lucky Dad isn't here."

"He's not my dad, so I don't care. Just lock it up, Rob. And maybe just forget that you did. Maybe just forget to open it. I'm already dead anyway."

This time the eyes that widened belonged to Batman. The almost-command from Dominic to forget that he had been locked in what was essentially a coffin was shocking. What was going so wrong in this child's life that he already considered himself dead? He seemed to have what many boys could only dream of having – an exciting life in a circus, the ability to fly, the freedom that comes with traveling around the world.

"If you're dead, why are you breathing and talking?" Rob asked logically, forcing the hero's thoughts away from the disturbing direction they had begun to follow.

"Inside…forget it, you wouldn't understand," Dick growled, frustrated. "Just go. I don't want you to get in trouble with your dad."

Batman didn't miss the emphasis on the 'your', and he wondered why Dominic felt so unattached to his family. He saw the older boy shrug and close the lid again. The Caped Crusader was not going to let this go, so he circled the trailer and strode inside.

"Hi, Dominic," he stated as he opened the lid. "I think we need to have a chat."

The twelve-year-old's eyes instantly filled with fear. Batman knew he was intimidating, and he must appear even more so since the boy was lying down with no escape route. He stepped back and motioned for Dominic to sit up.

"I'm not here to hurt you, I just have some questions," he stated as he sat on what he assumed was a trainer's bench.

Dick slowly sat up, keeping his eyes on the hero the entire time.

"Who are you, and what do you want with me?" he asked quietly.

"I need to know what's going on, why you're choosing to close yourself in what is essentially a coffin, and why your brother called it the customs box."

"Not my brother," Dick snapped, taking Batman by surprise.

"Okay, but that doesn't really tell me anything. Why are you here?"

"Because I can't go out there."

"Why not?"

"Did you see what happened?! I got kicked out! I can't go out there!"

"I'm assuming it was embarrass…"

"Humiliating," Dick interrupted, anger filling his voice. "Not just embarrassing."

"Okay, why did your…the other boy call this the customs box?"

"Why do you even care? It's not like you can do anything about it. Who are you, anyway?"

"I'm Batman."

"Bat…" Dick stared at him incredulously. "Why?" he asked, genuinely curious as to why a person would not only dress up like a bat, but also use the name 'Batman'.

"A question for a question, answer for an answer," Batman responded.

Dick shrugged, and Batman took it as an agreement.

"I'll answer yours first," the man said. "I'm a duly deputized agent of the law, but I do things a little…differently than the police. Your turn. Why did the other boy call this the customs box?"

"I can't answer that," Dick immediately replied. "Ask something else."

That raised a giant red flag in Batman's mind. The boy had responded too quickly, like he knew that something terrible would happen if he discussed the 'customs box'. So, obviously, something terrible had happened the first time he had talked to someone about it. Batman decided not to push for an answer. For now, anyway.

"Okay, why did you close yourself in it?"

"Because I don't want to go out there."

Batman waited, but Dick dropped his eyes to his lap. The Caped Crusader hated being patient, but he was hoping that the boy was trying to gather enough courage to elaborate.

"Why do you dress like that?" Dick whispered instead, keeping his eyes down.

"So nobody knows my identity."

Dick snapped his head up, curiosity in his eyes again.

"Why don't you want anyone to know your identity?"

"It's your turn," Batman responded. "Does your dad hit you?"

"Not my dad," Dick muttered, dropping his eyes again.

"That's not what I asked, but I'll amend it. Does the man who seems to be your dad hit you?"

Dick was not going to confess. He didn't know this man, didn't trust him at all. The guy was probably some kind of spy, maybe for Marco. Sent to gain Dick's trust and draw something out of him that would give Marco more ammunition than he already had. Besides, Marco only punished him like that when Dick made him really mad, which wasn't very often so it wasn't a big deal.

The silence was telling, but Batman wasn't going to allow Dominic to know that fact.

"I changed my mind, I don't want to ask that question," he said casually. "How long have you been a trapeze artist?"

"All my life," Dick answered quietly, keeping his head down so the man wouldn't see the tears gathering on his lower lids.

"You're very good."

"Thanks," the twelve-year-old mumbled.

"Better than the others, even."

Batman watched the boy's body language closely, and was immediately rewarded. Dominic's torso – which had been hunched over as he looked at his lap – instantly straightened, as if a balloon of confidence had just inflated his ribs. His left hand absently began rubbing his right arm, stopping to massage at random times.

"You're hurt," Batman observed.

"It's not your turn," Dick replied.

"That wasn't a question."

Dick snapped his head up again, something akin to fury smoldering in his eyes. Batman saw two tiny, clear streaks snaking down through a layer of makeup. He saw something else, and the anger boiling in his blood grew hotter.

The darkness under the makeup was a different color than the rest of the boy's skin. Batman flicked his eyes from the now-motionless left arm to the face a few times, and decided he was correct.

"I wonder where you got those bruises," Batman mused, studying the other wall of the trailer as if he was speaking to himself.

He watched Dominic in his peripheral vision. The boy's eyes were full of fear, but a hint of anger remained.

"Who sent you?" Dick asked, his voice trembling slightly.

"Nobody. I saw your performance, and followed you."

"Why?"

"My turn," Batman responded. "How did you get those bruises?"

Silence again as Dick frantically tried to think of a believable response. Batman knew the answer, but wanted to hear the excuse.

"My brother and I got into a fight."

"You said he's not your brother."

The trailer went silent again as Dick tried to figure out a way to backtrack. He couldn't, because he had been so emphatic about the fact that Rob wasn't his brother. Whoever this guy was wouldn't believe him if he tried to refute what he himself had said.

"Your turn," Batman finally said, allowing the twelve-year-old a moment of relief.

The boy's body was tense with either stress or anger. Batman figured the former emotion, because Dominic had been trapped in a corner that he hadn't known he was headed for. That would be stressful for even an adult.

"Dominic Rosselli, you better get your idiotic self out here right now before I decide to come in there!"

Batman saw the boy's face morph into a snarl. He was surprised when Dominic stood up, stepped out of the box, and marched toward the entrance of the trailer.

"Kid, you better hope you…"

Marco was cut off when Dick launched himself at the man. The two tumbled to the ground, where Dick got in a couple of good hits before Marco was able to grab his right arm. Batman was just coming out of the trailer when Marco yanked the boy to his feet.

"That is the last straw, Dominic," he growled.

"I. Am. Not. Dominic!" the boy yelled, both pain and fury in his voice.

Marco flung the injured arm away, and the movement tossed the boy to the ground. Batman stepped in, grabbing the other man's arm and twisting it behind his back. The aerialist spun the opposite way and swung, trying to catch Batman off-guard with a flying elbow. It was easily blocked, and Marco found himself on the ground with a mouthful of dirt. He rolled over and stared up at a man dressed all in black.

"You had no right to do that," Marco growled, slowly pushing himself to his feet. "That is assault, and I'm going to have you arrested."

He lightly rubbed his jaw where Batman's right hook had landed, testing the level of pain. It was going to be a bruise, but nothing that a layer of makeup couldn't cover.

"It is my duty, as a duly deputized agent of the Gotham City Police Department, to protect people. Your son was in danger from you, so I had every right to do that," Batman snapped, rage pulsing out of his Bat-glare.

"Dominic was not in danger," Marco snarled. "He attacked me, and I defended myself. He tripped when I let go of his arm."

"Do you think I'm an idiot?!" Batman roared. "I know what I saw, and you know what you did!"

Most of the performers were gathering near, both curious and worried about the confrontation. Batman glanced around, looking for Dominic. The boy was still on the ground, curled into himself and panting. His eyes were squeezed shut and he was supporting his right arm again.

"Look at your son," Batman growled, pointing in the direction of the boy. "Look at him, and tell me he's fine."

Marco glanced over then glared at the hero.

"I don't know who you are, but how I handle my family is no business of yours. Dominic humiliated himself tonight, he humiliated the Rosselli name!"

Suddenly the boy was on his feet, and the circus members began whispering amongst themselves. Dick was barely holding himself together, the pain in his arm and the fear of what was to come threatening to break him to pieces.

"Then it's a good thing I'm not a Rosselli," he said softly, although the tone was full of fury.

Turning his back on the crowd, the boy fled into the darkness.