Sorry this is late, but I had a strange plan to be happy on Christmas. I have a lot to type before tomorrow night (tonight for you guys reading this) so I can't really work on memorable A/Ns. Sorry if this sucks, but I really don't care. I don't have time to care. Merry Christmas, Hanukah, Kwanza, Boxing Day and December. (SEE! I show love for the Atheists).

Disclaimer: I OWN NOTHING.

Dr. Hank Emerson wasn't new at this. Day after day, new patients were wheeled into his room, bleeding and broken. He'd seen everything from spouse abuse to kids who ignored the warnings on TV and did what they saw. Several patients had died on him, but when the little black-haired beauty was wheeled into his room, he knew this one wouldn't. This kid was a wreck, everything out of place.

"What happened to him, John?" Hank asked his assistant.

Hank was an older man, maybe 54 or so. He was weathered with age, a serious look usually set over his features. John on the other hand was in his early thirties, his brown hair and green eyes making him popular with the ladies. John hopelessly shrugged, dismissing the nurse and pulling the ebony further into the room.

"It's not my job to ask sir," John said calmly, scooping the scissors off of the table beside him.

He quickly went to work, cutting the bloody shirt from the pale chest. Dried blood acted like glue, doing its best to prevent him. John didn't panic though. He just tugged a little harder, knowing he couldn't do anything worse than what had already been done. Hank frowned, nodding and stepping forward to examine the pale chest. It was a mess, but to see everything, he'd have to clean the wounds.

He walked with a fast pace to the sink, grabbing some sterile wipes and dashing back to the bloody boy's side. He dabbed at every blood splotch, working as fast as he could to clean up. There seemed to be an endless amount of leaking though and he almost gave up on trying to clean. John took the wipes from his hands and took over. Hank nodded thankfully, picking up a delicate arm and looking it over.

He noted aloud everything that was wrong, more for his own memory than anything else. There were a ton of breakages, bruises and cuts and he bet there were a ton of torn ligaments and muscles on the inside that'd need a good portion of time to heal. He didn't have time to take notes anymore. He had to set the bones back.

XxXxX

Bruce calmly drove the car in silence, his mind elsewhere. Something had been bothering Wally for the longest time and he knew that now was the best time to ask it. The worst that could happen would be that he'd get kicked out of the car. He could run to the hospital or back home, all depending on what he felt like.

"Hey… can I ask you something?" he said slowly, holding tight to the door handle just in case.

Bruce hummed to show he heard and was listening, no matter how distant. He half expected the redhead to ask if he could be with his ward, seeking approval, but he knew that Wally wouldn't dare with that. He was half interested, but the biggest portion of his interest was there with his little boy in the hospital.

"So… the second I walked in, you recognized me because you told the cops not to shoot me. You knew I was Kid Flash because there weren't a lot of gingers who cared about Dick. How'd you know that Kid Flash and Dick knew each other?"

Bruce's eyes widened for a second and he offered a small smile, obviously impressed by this kid's thinking.

"If you haven't noticed, Dick likes to talk. At our house, Alfred and I are the only people he can talk to. I know a lot about his life," Bruce stretched the truth a little.

The last part was the only lie. There was no need to blow his cover. Wally was clever though.

"That's the thing sir. Kid Flash doesn't know Dick. Kid Flash is sucked up in sidekick stuff, unlike Dick…" the ginger went on, perfectly ready to run.

Bruce was ready for this talk though. He had rehearsed something similar to it in his head hundreds of times ever since Dick had donned the domino mask and joined him on the battlefield.

"You and I both know Dick is Robin. That's not too much of a secret. If he keeps up that stupid giggle of his, the whole world's going to find out pretty soon," Bruce shrugged.

"I don't think it's stupid…" Wally mumbled under his breath at first.

Bruce's smile strengthened, but he quickly drained it and focused harder on the roads.

"He doesn't giggle that much. Besides, how would you know that Kid Flash cares for Robin? If you know as much about Dick as you say you do, then you know he doesn't talk about… that kind of stuff… openly. And he's always uncertain about friends. He wouldn't rant on about stuff his friend does. You'd have to notice it yourself, but I've never seen you around the Cave…"

Wally was quick to add, "Please don't kill me," when he saw the offended look that crossed the eldest's face. Bruce smiled lightly.

"Trust me, I won't kill you," Bruce assured him, "If I did, Dick would hate me and probably run away or something."

Wally's heart stopped. Great. The only thing keeping him alive was a fear of losing his kid. That made him feel better.

"Should I just drop the subject?" he asked lightly, lessening his hold on the handle.

Bruce said nothing so Wally took that as a yes. He bowed his head lightly, staring at his knees. They were stained from blood, probably from when Dick tackled him. Dick… he was in the hospital, his bones being fixed, tubes and wires piercing his skin… Wally shivered, gritting his teeth and balling his hands onto his fists as they rested right below the blood stains. He unconsciously wiped at his eyes even no tears were quite ready to fall.

"You're a smart kid. You probably won't hear that a lot, but you need to know it. If anybody had to protect Dick on the field while I cannot, I'm glad it's you. He probably won't be on the battlefield again for a long time… but I trust you'll watch over him and protect him even then," Bruce spoke strongly for a voice so crippled with pain.

Wally's eyes widened and he winced in surprise, looking over at his best friend's dad. Inside, he cheered happily. He was finally on the good side.

"Thank you," he never lifted his eyes from his fists. "I fully intended to."

XxXxX

Alfred raised an eyebrow as the doorbell rang. He dismissed the cops with a wave of his hand, walking to the door and opening it. A man stood there, his face grim. He was painstakingly familiar, but Alfred couldn't place him.

"May I help you?" Alfred folded his arms over his chest, raising an eyebrow.

The man in the doorway was bulky, not fat, with broad shoulders. His brown hair was thinning up top, little specks of gray dotting here and there. His eyes were dark blue and he was extremely muscular all over. When he realized he was being spoken to, he set a hand to his neck, obviously upset.

"Is this… Is there a Dick Grayson living here?" he asked hopefully.

Alfred furrowed his eyebrows in confusion before he finally placed the man. He forced a weak frown.

"I'm sorry? Who's that?"

Years of playing faithful butler to Batman and Robin had taught him how to keep secrets without being figured out. He was the best and oldest actor in the Wane Manor and he intended to take that title to his grave. The man weakly smiled, his eyes teary.

"He… he's my son. Five years ago, my wife and I got involved with the mob and we had to… 'drop off the map' for a while… and we understand he was adopted. The orphanage said he'd be here," the man peered over Alfred's shoulder, as if looking for his boy.

Alfred pretended to be confused, thinking hard.

"Oh, you mean the blue eyed boy? He works here on weekends sometimes, keeping Bruce and I company. He helps with the cleaning because, as you can tell, time isn't faring well for me and my son is always out working. You must have the wrong Wayne family. There's another one not to far from here in upstate Brooklyn," Alfred managed to say it all, seeming as impatient as ever. "Now if that's all, I have a dinner to attend in my son's honor and he's waiting for me."

The man seemed startled, but he nodded anyway.

"O-Oh… um, thank you sir. Have a nice day."

And with that, Alfred shut the door in the face of John Grayson.

WOAH! Plot thickened! And Alfred just got that much more awesome. I was going to make up a gay couple line, but I decided son and father was more believable and not everything has to be gay to make me happy… it helps though. I don't know when I'll next update, but expect it soon because I obviously have no life. Review?

-F.J.