Dick Grayson was of the opinion that everyone carried an atmosphere around with them. It may be uplifting and invigorating, or it may be unwholesome and depressing. It may make a little spot of the world a sweeter and better place to live in; or it may make it harder for those to live worthily and happily who dwell within its circle. Bruce Wayne, in his very experienced opinion, was the latter.

That wasn't to say that Dick didn't care about Bruce, because he did; like a son to a father, he was grateful for everything that he had done for him as a child...but there was a reason Dick had relinquished the title of 'Robin' and entered a solo crime-fighting career as 'Nightwing'. The first reason was because, after being shot in the shoulder by Joker, Bruce had practically forced him out of the role. The second reason was because, well, Bruce was kind of a jerk. Dealing with him every single day, his constant paranoia and scrutiny, was exhausting. Dick didn't realise just how sick of it he was until he joined the Teen Titans, and realised what a team's relationship should actually be like.

Despite this, Dick tried to visit Bruce regularly because he could never completely erase the man's annoying and permanent scowl out of his life. It would be like losing a second dad.

"Here's an idea, why don't you just apologise?" Dick said, analysing the Batmobile's new paint job. It was in constant need of repair, from scratches to crashes, it was rare to see it without a dent.

"I didn't ask for your opinion," Bruce replied without even looking at him, "and I have nothing to be sorry for."

"Oh yeah, sure, 'cause you're Mr. Perfect all the time and you can do no wrong. I forgot," Dick mocked with a smirk. "Honestly, it's no wonder Jason left. You can be really hard to deal with."

"And he's not?" Bruce retorted.

"...Touché."

A soft whirring filled the room, unmistakably the elevator down to the batcave. At first, Dick assumed that it was Alfred arriving with a steaming pot of tea...then the door opened and in stepped a tall woman with long black hair almost as dark as her eyes. Dick recognised her from a recent newspaper article. It was impossible to forget such a face.

"Why did you use the elevator?" Bruce asked sharply.

Rahn stepped out of it and approached. "I am attempting to make you feel more comfortable. Or would you rather I suddenly appear beside you?

Bruce said nothing.

"Zsasz has been captured and returned to Arkham," Rahn said. "I assisted the Bat Child but she did not seem to appreciate my presence."

"Bat Child?" Dick questioned.

"I sent her to Barbara," Bruce answered nonchalantly.

"Damn, and Barb likes everyone," Dick sounded almost impressed that Rahn had managed to get on Barbara's non-existent bad side. "What did you do?"

"I did not do anything of consequence, she must simply harbour the same mistrust of the unknown as Bruce does."

"Barbara?... Nah, not her," Dick almost laughed at the idea. He had dated Barb for quite a few years, and he knew that she didn't choose to dislike someone for no reason...but she could be a little paranoid. Her father was a cop, after all.

"Excuse me, but should I know who you are?" Rahn asked suddenly.

"I mean, yeah probably. Name's Dick." He saw the blankness in Rahn's eyes and gasped, "Wow, Bruce hasn't mentioned me at all? Rude."

"Dick? That is your name?" Rahn tilted her head to the side in obvious confusion, "I was under the impression that 'dick' was slang for the male appendage. Why would your parents burden you with such a name? Is it because your seed is more potent than average?"

"Holy shit," Dick boomed with laughter. He was used to people mocking his name, but never like that. He had gone from being mildly annoyed that even aliens couldn't hear his name without saying something stupid, to wild amusement at the genuine puzzlement in her expression. "I mean, sure, yeah. That's why they call me Dick. The seed is strong."

He could almost feel Bruce's glare burning into the back of his skull, but that only made Dick laugh harder.

"Dick's a nickname," Bruce answered, serious as ever. "It's short for Richard."

"How is it short for Richard? That does not make any logical sense. Have I not studied your language correctly?"

At this point, Dick was leaning over his own knees; gasping in air between violent fits of chuckling. His eyes were beginning to water, and his cheeks hurt from the wide grin stuck to his face.

"It doesn't matter," Bruce finally stated. He had indulged in this conversation for too long already. "Was Jason there when you captured Zsasz?"

"No, he was not. I will search for him tonight if it will appease you."

Finally, Dick took a sharp inhale and wiped a few stray tears from his cheeks. "Jason's still healing, he shouldn't be going out for another month at least...but knowing him it'll only be a few days. Maybe if Bruce apologised then he wouldn't have to worry about where he is."

"That's enough, Dick. This has nothing to do with you," Bruce retorted coldly.

These words erased all joy from Dick's face and replaced it with a bitter worry, "Kinda does though. Jason's like a brother to me and I don't like the path he's headed on. You're the one that stuffed him into that damn suit, said it'd help him the same way it helped you, but it's just made him...bitter."

Bruce didn't reply. He just sat there, blank with indifference, a wall around him built so high that it would take an asteroid to puncture it. Bruce had always been like that, Dick knew it better than anybody, but this time it just pissed him off.

"Got nothing to say?" Dick snapped, "You should never have let him become Robin...fuck it, you should never have let me become Robin!"

Bruce frowned, but finally spoke, "It wasn't my choice."

"What are you talking about?! Of course it was! I was thirteen years old, Bruce, and Jason wasn't any older. If a kid comes up to you and asks to join the army during a war, do you just let him do it?! It's the adult's responsibility to say no!" Dick slammed his fist against the bat mobile and felt the metal bruising his knuckles. "Neither of us were mature enough to make such a stupid decision, and now look at us! It's messed us up!"

Rahn stepped backwards, hoping to observe for a little longer without being noticed. Bruce didn't even acknowledge the movement. He simply stared at Richard; at his clenched fists and gritting teeth...the glisten starting to form in his eyes. "When my parents died, I wanted to kill myself. I tried. But when I realised that...I could use these feelings to do something, it gave me purpose. I knew what I needed to do. I thought that I could save you from the decades of pain that I barely lived through. Especially if you saw the man that killed your parents brought to justice."

He was talking about Tony Zucco. Small-time mob fixer who cut the trapeze lines during the Grayson family's circus act. Dick's mom and dad fell 40 feet to their deaths in front of hundreds of people. Dick, 12 years old and waiting on the far end to join the act, was one of them.

Dick let this gaze fall away from Bruce's. It was rare that the man ever spoke more than two words, even rarer for him to say something so sincere, but it didn't erase years of trauma. Nothing ever could. "When you created Batman you were in your twenties, Bruce. It was different. I was barely old enough to catch the bus by myself. You had a decade to deal with your grief and manifest it into something. I was acting on fresh wounds and didn't think about how being Robin would affect me in the future. I can't live a normal life because I know over one hundred ways to incapacitate a human being, and I could never live with myself if I didn't use it. I'm not saying my life is all bad, because of Robin I met Kori...but Jason isn't coping. He's confused about his own morality, and that's on you."

"I know," Bruce said in barely a whisper, turning his back to Dick as if he were going straight back to work; monitoring the street cameras and waiting for a crime to stop. Though this agitated Dick, his next words chipped away at that long-held anger. "I'm sorry. I'll fix it."

Dick shook his head. This wasn't the sort of thing that got 'fixed', but it was more than he was expecting to hear from him. With a nod at Rahn, Dick headed for the elevator. He felt uncomfortable in the suddenly hostile room that he had created. Usually, he'd make a smart-ass comment to Bruce, flirt with the pretty woman, then leave...but he was too angry. A quiet rage had been brewing inside of him for years now.

When Dick had disappeared from view, Rahn decided to speak, "If it is any consolation, my species readies children for war at the age of five. It is important that they are prepared for the violence life throws at them."

Bruce threw her a deadly glare from over his shoulder, apparently not at all comforted by her words. "Find Jason. Take the Robin suit. Make sure he doesn't go out looking for trouble."

To his surprise, Rahn didn't argue; like she saw straight through his facade to the storm rumbling in his chest. She knew that he needed to be alone, so with a lingering look that almost echoed sympathy, she disappeared into thin air.

Bruce rested his head in his hands, his shoulders slumping and back arching. A lone shadow in a darkened room.

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