Damnit. I want a Christmas fic. WHY DO I SUCK AT THEM? Gr. Oh well, I've always wanted to write this. Artist is the amazingFall Out Boy! Song is 27, but I've already done a 27 so… Heh ^-^ Oopsie on my part.

Disclaimer: I don't own the song or the characters.

If home is where your heart is, then we're all just fucked.

A home has a million meanings, but only one at the same time.

It's often confused with a house which is simply the vessel that holds you. It'd be like saying that just because you smile, you're happy. It's something different entirely. A houseis just where you get your mail sent to.

A homeis 'where your heart is'. It's where you always want to be, no matter where and when you are. It's the place that sounds better than Hawaii, Disney Land and Tahiti to you. It's the place where you know if you go, you'll temporarily be safe from the part of the world that only has cruel intentions regarding you.

Dick had a house. His house was the Wayne Manor, but he never called it his house. He just called it his cell while life was labeled his prison. He'd never see his family until the warden let him out, past the bars, to find out what to do after his sentence has been paid. The bed was comfy and he was let out of his cell every once in a while to play with the other inmates, but they'd never replace the family waiting for him on the other side of the walls.

Dick had a home. Actually, he had two. One was in one of Gotham's many cemeteries, right around his parents' graves. It was a sad and cold home, but when he didn't feel safe, he'd go there; curl up on their graves and just sleep. Some times, he'd get dreams about them and he'd convince himself that it was whispers from their corpses into his unconscious ears in attempts to comfort him. His other home was wherever Wally West happened to be at the time. It could be anywhere from the Ghetto to the middle of a hoard of blood thirsty zombies.

Point was, he had two homes and neither were always comforting. Both could leave him sobbing, heartbroken and weak while at other times, he could leave blushing, happy and giggly. Usually, it was Wally that left him in love while the graves kept him weak, but some days, the prison liked to change it all up just a little. They'd replace the heavy shackles with plastic cuffs when he was good, even replacing the regularly crappy lunch with a treat. They could also add a ball chain to his ankle and poison to the mashed potatoes. He didn't care though. He was just serving his sentence, hoping that he'd be let out early for good behavior.

Last thing was a reference to how the good die young. Hope you liked it. Couldn't resist brief KF/Rob hints. Christmas fic requests would be amazing.

-F.J.