He didn't know exactly what happened. It all started with a mistake, an argument, and next thing he knew, his thirteen year old son was walking out the door. The mistake was simple, Bruce under estimated Dick's abilities, in other words, was treating him like a little kid again. He told him to stay behind during the mission, that it was too dangerous. That wasn't the smartest move because before they knew it, and argument broke out and the villian got away.

As soon as they returned home, the sixteen year old grabbed his things and left.

Bruce watched wordlessly as the boy he once called a son left, closing the door behind him.

'He'll be back' the older man lied to himself, but the door remained closed.

The door remained closed as such for years. By now, Jason had come and gone in Bruce's life. Much to his surprise, Dick had been at the funeral. He stood in the back with Alfred, not saying a word to anyone. You knew threw Barry that Dick had since moved into an apartment a few cities over. He hardly came in contact with anyone on the Justice League anymore.

"He'll be back." You continue to lie to yourself as you pass the closed door of his old room.

The bed is still made, clothes still scattered, the only difference is the lacking of a hot-headed teen boy.

By now, Dick was no longer a teenager, you remember, he would be eighteen today.

Your own hair is greying now, your age beginning to become more prominent; though, a little sooner than you would like. You are typing at your laptop when there is a knock at the door. You hear Alfred click the lock, his old, low voice echoes throughout the old mansion.

"The door for you, Master Bruce."

"Thank you, Alfred." You head to the door. There is a young man before you. Black hair that hangs low on his neck and all too familiar blue eyes. He stares at the ground, unable to meet his eyes.

"Hey, dad."

For once, you could say this without lying, 'He's back.'