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 I Never Knew How Much You Meant To Me

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Iron Man

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PostSubject: I Never Knew How Much You Meant To Me   Sun May 27, 2012 2:05 am

;; I Never Knew How Much You Meant To Me ;;

Can also be read here

My name is Richard John Grayson and I'm thirteen years old.

But Richard John Grayson isn't my only name. To friends I'm Dick and yes, I've heard enough sexual jokes to realize that may not be a great nickname but it's my nickname.

Though even then that's not my only name; sometimes the world only knows me as Robin. The Boy Wonder. The partner of the Caped Crusader. The Dark Knight. Batman. I have many names or nicknames if you'd prefer to call them.

Sometimes I get lost behind them. Robin helps hide the pain Richard feels about his past, his parents, and the bullying while Richard hides the bruises, scars, and whelps I receive on a daily basis from my nightly activities. Both masks cover each other so well, there wasn't much room for any lagniappe. I could always hide behind one mask or the other. It was easy to tell who was who at any given moment. But, it wouldn't be that way for long. One day, Bruce presented me with a new name. I felt really odd about receiving a new name but Bruce seemed happy to give it, I liked seeing him happy so I took it.

Richard John Grayson Wayne.

Who was Richard John Grayson Wayne? Was he the weirdo that kids picked on? Was he the boy that went out on nightly escapades with the Dark Knight of Gotham City? No. He was none of those. But who was he? Was he the injured boy that would cry desperately for attention from his father figure even though he barely received it unless he hurt himself? Was he the immature hacker that his team relied on to get them through technically advanced areas? No. Again he wasn't any of those.

Who was Richard John Grayson Wayne?

I never knew the answer to it. I was too confused by the thought of another me. I already had two perfect masks how could I contain another? It was too much to deal with the confusion, the inability to switch masks. It seemed like all of the names and masks were merging into one. I couldn't take this, I couldn't handle this. My masks were the only reason I was still partially sane. Throwing the new wrench into my perfect system had thrown me a curve ball. I couldn't figure out why it was affecting me so, though.

-000-

I must have hurt Bruce, I snapped at him. I cursed him out. Told him I wished I had been the one to die. That I didn't have to here and live night after night knowing they couldn't be with me. That I knew he only kept me around as a publicity stunt, honestly I didn't even know what I was yelling at one point. I just yelled and yelled and yelled and it felt exceedingly fantastic to anything I had ever previously felt.

I could see the tensing of his muscles and the way he shut himself down, he was always like a turtle shrinking into his shell. The shell that people called Batman. I called him on it, did he even care about me or was I just a soldier Batman had created for his army against evil? I couldn't stay here, everything was just over whelming. Not any longer. Not to never know who I could possibly be. I left and with it I threw away Robin and Richard John Grayson at the threshold of Wayne Manor. They bled off of me like blood flowing from a cut artery, within minutes they were dead. Only to leave Richard John Grayson Wayne.

But who was Richard John Grayson Wayne?

Right now, I believe he's a scared child desperately looking for something he can't find. Maybe it was a home. Maybe it was a face. Maybe it was some reason to keep on going. Maybe it was something different all entirely.

But my name is now Richard John Grayson Wayne.

And I'm a scared little boy walking along the streets of Gotham City in the cold, blistering rain while the sleet slaps me across the face leaving a sore, sour stinging sensation on my exposed skin. My stomach lets out a growl and I remember I had my argument with Bruce before lunch. I hadn't eaten in a while. I felt tired as I trudged through the snow and tried not to slip on the ice. I wondered how long it would take for Alfred to hunt me down. How long until I could go home. How long until I could beg for Bruce's forgiveness. How long until I could cry and sob into the man's arms, scream about how much I didn't mean it. He was my everything and suddenly I felt alone. And scared. Too scared. Maybe Batman would come? Batman seemed to always know where I was. But I had left hours ago. Batman must have been taking his time. Was this a lesson I was to learn? Don't fuck with Bruce or Batman won't save you when you need it most? I felt my throat dry out and become sore while my eyes just burned for some reason I couldn't pin-point. I think I blamed it on the snow. The snow that became sleet as it rolled down my face. I couldn't stop it.

I turned down a street that reeked of garbage and perfume. A red light district. Booze, hookers, drug-heads, low level thugs, and other repulsive human scum littered these allies and one point or another. My stomach tightened as I found myself looking straight down the backstreet. It was a bad idea but then again I'm Richard John Grayson Wayne and I'm a walking bad idea.

Then I took a step on to the road to self-discovery.

Self-discovery felt a lot like getting hit in the head with a baseball bat.

"Whataya doing here, kiddy? Lookin' for your whore of a mama?" A man spoke, I couldn't feel anything. Just the cold sleet and snow that lay on the ground beneath me. It felt so cold, but so inviting. I just wanted to sleep, completely give up then and there. I could feel the smacks against my body but the pain never registered. I couldn't speak; I could find the need to want to. I did hear screaming though; it was shrill and high pitched. I wished it would stop.

The screaming ceased. The smacks ceased. I felt something move me and take a sharp intake of breath. My eyes had shut long ago, so long I had begun to wonder if they'd ever open again. The world felt weird, foggy and something else. Something I couldn't exactly pin point but I could feel the snow and ice brushed off of my face. Suddenly it hurt, like I was coming down from my mental breakdown of a high. My eyes burned as the warm tears trailed down my face. Gloved hands wiped them away before they could ever drip off though.

"Shhh, Richard, shhh. I'm here." I knew the voice, didn't I? I gave a choked out sob as a response, pain. My nerves were screaming in pain. I knew most of it was physical but I couldn't help but feel the emotional.

Batman was here.

Batman would always be here.

I felt more tears trail down as I shook violently in his arms. The masked vigilante just held me close to his chest, so close I could hear his heart beating faster than a normal, healthy pace. Had he been worried? I must look like a mess, I mused to myself. No one could be beaten with a baseball bat and not look horrible.

I wanted to speak. I wanted to say everything I had thought about on my way here. I wanted to confess everything; Batman and Bruce were my everything. My world. I couldn't stand to be without them.

"It's okay, just try to calm down." The voice was being soothing. Could… should his voice ever sound like this to me? I wasn't sure but I was okay with the voice. I found my body relaxing into the bigger, warmer body that held me. I hadn't realized how cold I was. My brain went through the normal processes, my fingers and toes felt numb but that was to be expected. I couldn't feel my feet, I winced at the thought. I like my feet, I didn't like that I couldn't feel them.

"…B?" I asked, only able to form one letter, one sound of the name that meant the world to me. It was enough to get his attention though. I could hear a car door hissing open and warmth filled my entire body, except my feet which were still, painfully, numb.

"Yes?" I expected a grunt, not a word. I felt my body just slowly relaxing as I felt something on my shoulder. A blanket? Maybe a heating pad? It started out as a dull warm before, as time passed, it became increasingly warmer.

"'m sorry, I didn't mean it." I blurted out after haven't re-fully activated my muscles that were used for speech. I felt something shift the blankets on my shoulders as there was pressure to my shoulder.

"Don't talk, just relax." The voice said again, I leaned into the touch. I hadn't noticed how close in the, what I could assume to be, the Bat-Mobile we were. My head leaned into the middle of his upper-arm, nuzzling into the biceps and triceps that flexed as Batman, Bruce, turned the vehicle's steering wheel. I had never once opened my eyes since Bruce had found me on the side walk but I think it was time to. I blinked open my eyes, looking at the dash of the Bat-Mobile. My guess had been correct. I gave a shiver, trying my best to curl into the body next to me.

The blanket wasn't the warmth I wanted right now and I believe Bruce sensed this. He moved the arm I was currently using as a pillow and wrapped it around my shoulders pulling me into the side of his armor and Kevlar covered chest. The cape that I had grown to associate with safety draped around my shoulder. I shut my eyes against, nesting into the area given to me by my Dark Knight. What I had yelled earlier was just a bunch of insecure lies. I knew now, that Bruce meant the world to me and I meant the world to him. It only took an argument, and then some, for us to see the true value in the other.

My name is Richard John Grayson Wayne and I know who I am.

I'm the son of Bruce Wayne, billionaire play-boy philanthropist. The partner of Batman, part of the Dynamic Duo. I'm the best hacker the Young Justice and Justice League, I'm their youngest member while being the most experienced. I'm a kid that has a horrible past but has learned to see the light and happiness in the world. Yet, in spite of those things, I'm just a boy that desperately wanted the approval of his adopted father.

And for once in my life I knew I finally had it.

"I love you, Bruce." I mumbled out, the feeling in my feet was coming back. It burned but I could care less at the pain.

"I love you too, Dick." Bruce had replied, making the finally turn to their destination.
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