Catch Me If I Fall || R.Grayson ||

Constantly On The Move:(2)

The car ride turned out to be a long one. Dick sat in the backseat, staring anxiously out the window. It occurred to him for the first time in the whole half hour they'd been driving, that he had no idea where they were going.

Bruce Wayne had tried talking to him as he drove, but evidently, the six year old remained quite silent. He stopped trying to make conversation, now worrying about this entire decision he was making. Alfred, the butler, had indeed hosted a few problems and excuses as to why adopting the little boy was a bad idea, but over all, he had agreed that perhaps this was what Bruce needed to get on the right track. A good amount of parental responsibility never hurt anyone.

What Bruce conveniently chose not to tell Alfred was why he wanted to take Richard Grayson under his wing. Bruce had lost his parents as a child, too. Like Richard, he had seen them die right in front of his face, and look where he was now; dressed as a giant bat parading around the dark streets of Gotham, perhaps with a mild personality disorder, and a dark need to make all crime pay for what it did to innocent people. He knew he was beyond saving. That he was allowed to dwell in his anger for far too long; but perhaps he could save this boy from that.

It was early evening when they pulled up to Wayne Manor. Alfred would be wondering why they were late to dinner.

"We're here," Bruce said, parking the car in the long driveway.

Richard was shifting facial expressions so fast, Bruce wasn't sure what he was feeling. Finally, he settled with genuine astonishment. He cocked his head in question. "Y-you live here?" He said it in a fine mix of English and Romanian.

Bruce nodded. "Yes, I do."

"It's like a castle!"

They climbed out of the car. Bruce grabbed Richard's bag, and led him up the front steps of the manor. The boy was visibly excited, but also very hesitant; two very conflicting emotions for a kid that age. At lease the skepticism he had toward Bruce was gone for the moment as he followed the millionaire into the house. To Bruce Wayne, the manor was familiar. To little Dick Grayson, it was, indeed, a castle.

"Ah, Master Bruce, you've returned," An old man came around the corner, holding a little feather duster. He spoke with an English accent, and wore a fine suit. He fixed his judgemental stare on Dick, who immediately felt like turning into a puddle and hiding for the rest of his life. "And you must be Master Richard," he gave a polite bow. "I am Alfred Pennyworth."

"Alfred won't bite," Bruce said softly, putting a steady hand on Dick's shoulder. "He does make the best cookies, though."

"Indeed I do," Alfred said with the faintest of smiles. "But I'm afraid you'll both have to wait until after you've finished your dinner. Come along now; I've made spaghetti."

They didn't bother washing up before dinner. It had been a long day, and the most anyone in the house wanted to do was sleep. They ate silently, with the occasional interruption from Alfred. After they finished, both Bruce and Alfred showed Dick to where he was going to sleep. Dick seemed pleased with the room they had made up for him, but didn't say anything.

"If you need anything, just call for Alfred," Bruce said. "Or if you need, my room is just down the hall."

"Okay," Dick said.

"I'll let you get your pyjamas on, and I'll come back in a few minutes, okay?"

"Okay,"

Bruce exited the room, and Dick took a second to look around before pulling out his hand-me-down pair of pyjamas from the orphanage. When he was dressed, he sat on the edge of the big bed, and waited for Bruce to come back.