Ten year olds had nightmares about ridiculous and impossible things. Ask any parent who had been woken up by their terrified child, screaming or even crying at some ridiculous hour of the morning. Turning up to school in their pajama's, being chased by Big Bird off of Sesame Street, or maybe even their own demise via the likes of monstrous donuts.

However, one look at the little boy in the largest room in the West Wing of Wayne Manor would throw the theory out of the water.

Curled up in a ball, sheets clenched in hands, was ten year old Richard Grayson. His face showed visible strain and his body shook. Every now and then, a little whimper escaped him.

And no, he wasn't dreaming about failing his spelling test on Friday, or even the creepy, smiling cat that he'd seen in that Disney movie Bruce didn't want him to watch.

Richard Grayson was a child with the same dream. The same nightmare. The same memory his subconscious seemed intent on torturing him with while he couldn't guard himself from it.

A light breeze brushed his messy ebony hair, kissing his cheek as he curled a little tighter. Even the cool night wanted to comfort the boy, though its efforts were futile. In a few moments, Richard would wake up, gasping for breath as he surfaced from the dream. He would gaze around wildly, forgetting where he was as he tried to blink away the red burnt into his memory, red he could still see. The red and white strips of the circus tent, and the red of the blood sinking into the ground.

Richard Grayson was a ten year old living a nightmare every time he closed his eyes.

He woke up. He screamed. Not necessarily in that order.

Bruce came running like he always did, and Dick buried his face in hands.

He could still see it, the bright lights, their crumpled forms down below and an awful, sickening laugh was echoing in his ears. Dick had never heard Zucco laugh before, so the sound was one he had made up himself.

Tony Zucco, the man who had killed his parents.

Left him an orphan.

The reason he had had to leave the rest of his family and his home the day they had been murdered.

By the time Bruce Wayne had flung open the door, Richard's startling blue eyes were beginning to fill with angry tears.

By the time Dick had buried his face into his adoptive father's shirt, the tears were flowing freely down his pale cheeks.

'I-I hate him.'

Anger. Pain. Something they had both knew very well.

'I know,' Bruce said softly, hugging Dick a little tighter.

Bruce knew what his ward –his son- was going through. He had lived it.

Two lives destroyed in seconds, the first by the actions of mugger and the later an extortionist.

Bruce became Batman and Richard became Robin. Both driven by the same want- that no one should have to suffer the way they had. They brought justice to the city, sacrificed their innocence, so that the people of Gotham might keep theirs.

The memory and the wounds were still fresh and raw in Richard. Since taking the boy in, Bruce had been a guiding hand, a mentor and even a father to Dick. He would continue to be, no matter what. Robin could laugh, joke, smile in the face of danger. Bruce never wanted that to change. Bruce knew Richard would probably never be able to stop the war on crime, but if he could stop him from becoming Batman, then everything would have been worth it.

They hadn't moved when Alfred came in holding up a tray bearing two steaming hot chocolates and a plate of his chocolate chip cookies. Alfred placed it down gently, watching his surrogate son and grandson with a little smile that refused to be snuffed out, even as he took his leave. The young master was in good hands.

'The nightmares?' Bruce asked quietly, when the tears finally stopped.

He let go of Richard so as to better see his face, and to hand him his hot chocolate. Dick nodded, taking a deep breath and making an attempt at composing himself. 'Would you like to try and go back to sleep, or do you want to stay up?' he asked. This had been the worst nightmare in a while, and Dick doubted he could get to sleep now.

'Could I stay up?' Dick asked softly. 'I just- I don't want to have to…'

Bruce put a hand on his shoulder and simply nodded. Nonverbal conversations were normal for the Dynamic Duo, even when out of uniform. One look was all it took.

Dick drank a few mouthfuls of hot chocolate, and the little shakes finally stopped.

Richard's thoughts immediately turned to making conversation. He was good at talking and good at listening. He needed to take his mind off of the nightmare, and onto something else.

'How's the kidnapping case going?' Richard asked between sips. 'The one Supes asked you to help him with.'

A young executive of a rival company of LexCorp had gone missing in Metropolis a few days ago, and since Superman wasn't overly familiar with the proper protocol of kidnapping (because kidnapping rates in Metropolis were close to finding a needle in a haystack, and in Gotham, looking for people that hadn't been kidnapped was like finding the needle) he had called Bruce for help.

'Found him in an old industrial warehouse,' said Bruce, picking up his own mug. 'A little bruised and pretty vague about the whole thing, but he's back home. Did you get your math test back?'

Dick grinned, 'Full marks.'

Bruce ruffled his hair, making it messier than it already was (if that were possible), 'Good work, sport.' He was happy to see him smiling again. It went quiet for a little while, and then:

'Did I tell you that Diana called?'

Dick watched, amused, as Bruce nearly spat out his hot chocolate. 'W-What?' he choked out.

'This afternoon, while you were out at one of your meetings,' he said rather airily.

'What happened? What did she want?'

Smirking. Richard was definitely smirking. 'She popped up on one of the computers in the Batcave. Me and Alfred-'

'-Alfred and I-'

'-were down there moving some stuff-'

'What stuff?'

'Do you want me to finish?' Bruce gave him a look and then sighed. 'Thank you. Anyway, so she pops up on the screen, looking around to see if she can see you. Well you should have seen it- Alfred jumps over the Batmobile and ducked behind it, and I dive behind the giant coin before she realizes we're there.' Dick grinned. 'She calls for you –Well Batman, I mean she didn't say Bruce- and then grumbles something like "off brooding" and ends the call.'

Bruce groaned- the second he got into the Watchtower he'd be beaten over the head by an irritated Amazon for not calling her back… 'And you said nothing about this, because?'

'Alfred said "the opportunity would present itself" and I decided to be nice and tell you now,' said Dick in a matter-of-fact tone.

'This is nice?'

'I could have left it for a couple of weeks. Imagine that- Wonder Woman angry and the World's Greatest Detective having no idea why.'

He blinked several times as he looked at Dick, dumbfounded. Richard was still grinning.

'Remind me to never leave the Batcomputer on when I'm away,' Bruce said finally. The last thing he needed was a Leaguer calling in for Batman and see Robin instead.

As if reading his thoughts, Dick grinned a little wider as he said: 'So when does Robin get to meet Batman's friends?'

Richard Grayson was ten years old and already bullying his adoptive father.

There was hope yet…