This is the third story in the My Son series. All my works are self-beta, so any and all mistakes were foolishly made by me. I do not own any DC characters. If I did, there would be quite a few changes in the DC world. I do not profit from this story. If I did, I'd upload a lot more and a lot sooner, don't you think?

FLASHING BACK AND BACK

CHAPTER ONE: DEATH

AGE: 14

"Alfred, have you seen Dick anywhere?" Bruce asked as he entered the kitchen. "His school called me, saying that he'd written a 'disturbing' essay, and I'd like to speak with him about it."

The elderly man placed a glass of juice next to a roast beef sandwich on a silver platter, before turning to face his "master". "Why, I'm afraid I have not seen nor heard from the young master since our arrival. I am terribly sorry, Sir." He held up the tray, offering Bruce his lunch.

Raising his hand, Bruce denied the offer. "Thank you anyway, Alfred. Maybe he's walking around outside somewhere."

"Perhaps, Master Bruce. I do seem to recall him saying he needed some 'fresh air'." Alfred set the tray down and covered it so that it would remain fresh later when Bruce changed his mind.

"Hm." Bruce nodded a 'thanks' before wandering out into his field of a backyard. After an hour of searching and calling, Bruce was just about to go inside when he noticed a mysterious figure in the Wayne family cemetery. He walked in the direction of the figure, and soon realized it to be the boy he'd been looking for.

"Dick?" He lightly touched Dick's shoulder, causing the teenager to turn around. "Can I talk to you for a moment?" The acrobat continued to sit on the ground, arms wrapped around legs, staring up at his mentor. "I'd gotten a call from your teacher today. She said that you'd written an essay with some 'disturbing' content in it. I'd like to know about what it was that you wrote."

Dick turned back around, and the two were silent for a moment. Bruce was about to question Dick some more, but the gypsy was the first to speak.

"…Bruce…?"

"What is it, Dick?" Bruce could tell that whatever it was that Dick wanted to tell him was not an easy topic. He kneeled down next to Dick, and placed a hand on the shoulder farthest from him. Dick hugged his legs tighter.

"…I…D...Do you…ever…um…th-think…about…um…well...about…death?"

Bruce was puzzled for a moment. He wasn't quite sure what Dick meant by "death". Was he pertaining to the deaths of those they could not get to in enough time as Batman and Robin? He was in the cemetery, so maybe he was referring to the death of loved ones. Then a troubling thought entered Bruce's mind. 'What if he's talking about suicide? Does that mean he's been hurting himself again? He has been acting peculiar as of late.' Suddenly, Bruce's mental clock kicked in, telling him that he's yet to answer Dick's question for several minutes.

"Uh… Wh-what do you mean, exactly?" Dick looked down and ran his hand along the short grass. Bruce could tell that Dick wasn't going to answer the question unless he restated it. "When you say 'death', how do you mean it? …Are you referring to the deaths of friends, or…the death of…oneself?"

"No, no. I mean…" Dick picked up a handful of grass then let the blades fall back to the ground. "…just…death in general."

Bruce studied Dick for a moment, searching for some unsaid variable. He found none, forced to answer the teenager without the slightest clue of what to say. "…uhm… Well, I suppose…the issue of death…uh…is one I sometimes…go over in my mind." The raven-haired boy was unmoved, still looking away from Bruce. The older man wasn't sure if what he'd said had any effect. He gave another effort, trying to get some reaction from his ward. "…We just about surround ourselves with death. It's a little inevitable for us not to think of it every now and then." Dick remained still. After a few seconds, Bruce began to worry. He had to get Dick to say something. "…What…caused this all of a sudden?"

Dick shrugged. "Just…stuff, I guess."

"Anything you want to maybe talk about?"

Dick looked at Bruce. His mouth moved, but no words came out. "...No." He faced away from Bruce again, looking rather sorrowful, Bruce noted.

"Are you sure?"

Dick nodded slightly. "Yeah…I'm sure." Bruce could tell that he was concealing something monumental. But he also knew that pressuring Dick tell him would end catastrophically. So instead, he simply sighed and tightened the hand on Dick's shoulder.

"Well…if you ever do…you know you can always talk to me? No matter what it is. Always. You do know that?"

"Yeah, sure." The expression on Dick's face told Bruce that the young teen didn't entirely believe what he said. And Bruce also knew that nothing he said could make Dick think otherwise. At least, not at the moment.

Bruce sighed again. There were so many questions filling his mind. Yet, he knew that he was not going to get an answer for a single one of them until he could find a way to de-depress Dick.

'That could take…well…as long as Dick wants it to take. And there's hardly much that I can do about it.' Bruce thought.

A cool breeze caused acrobat to shiver.

"Come on, Old Chum." Bruce stood, signaling for Dick to do the same. "Let's get inside." Bruce looked at the graves of several fallen Waynes. "It's depressing out here."

Bruce silently walked with Dick back to the manor, deciding it would be best if he never again mentioned the phone called he'd received.

A/N: About time I'd started this story, right? Well, here's how Flashing Back and Back is going to go: Each chapter will be a different flashback from a different time in Dick's life. It isn't quite necessary that one following the "My Son" has to read this story. HOWEVER, some of the chapters in this story WILL explain a few of the things mentioned in "My Son", and POSSIBLY in the fourth and fifth stories in the "My Son" series. I'll be working on this story for a while, and I expect around 20 or so chapters.