Some situation

Disclaimer: I don't own young Justice

A/N: this is rather personal to me I don't know where this is going but it's always been my secret wish. I always wanted a big brother to protect me or a father who always took my side. Robin's pretty lucky because he's got Bruce and Wally, but he deserves them.

Chapter one: Blame

'It's my fault,' his mind screams in pain and rage. 'It's my fault! It's all my fault.' Dick Grayson pulls himself up on the bar. His body is covered in bruises and his ankle is broken. Every inch of his frame is shaking like a life in a hurricane.

He forces his body flipping it, twisting it and landing it. He screams out in pain as his hits his ankle. He falls forward but he doesn't even bother to catch himself. Tears soak his face as he lies on the ground.

All he can see in his mind; Bruce, battered, bruised. It's his fault. He was so stupid! He'd fallen right into the jokers trap. How could he be so STUPID? Why the hell does Bruce even trust him! He doesn't deserve the tittle Robin. He doesn't deserve the chance Bruce gave him. He didn't deserve his love and affection.

Dick lets out a sob and slams his head against the gym floor. The ten year old begins to break down further than before. He clutches at himself digging his nails into his skin but his heart break is interrupted.

"Master Richard," Dick nearly jumps out of his skin at the sound of Alfred's voice. "Master Bruce has request to speak to you." Dick pushes off the floor and the site of him nearly breaks the old man's heart to see the boy like this. Dick fully raises himself and limps out of the gym to his 'fathers' room.

Bruce Wayne is propped up in his king sized bed in his lavished room. Honestly he doesn't feel that bad. The only reason anyone would think it was bad his because head wounds tend to bleed very much. And his head hadn't been that bad just a large cut across the forehead.

That doesn't matter though. Dick isn't hurt and that's all that matters. But Alfred had told him Dick was far from well. Bruce could have predicted this. Why did his 'son' have to be so rough on himself? Dick was always pushing himself, whether it was with school or training. His determination is truly admirable but his frustration with himself was a very bad habit. More than once Bruce had seen Dick fall into a full blown panic attack.

Bruce truly hates it to see the usually happy, spunky, cocky kid so distraught. And as if on cue there is a knock on Bruce's door.

"Come in," Bruce calls. The door creaks open and Dick enters. His head is dropped and his limp seems slightly worse. Bruce frowns as he sees a bit of blood drip on the carpet.

"Dick comes here," Bruce says. Dick half shuffles have limps to Bruce bed side.

"Dick looks at me," Bruce says. Dick shakes his head weakly.

"Richard look at me," Bruce says more firmly. The boy looked up weakly showing a bleeding mark on his forehead where he had bashed it on the floor. Bruce inwardly flinched at the site and has the strange urge to kill something (preferably a certain clown).

"I-I'm sorry," Dick whispers looking back at the floor.

"For what," Bruce asks.

"For screwing up, for getting you hurt," he mumbles feeling tears burning behind his eyes.

"Dick," Bruce says genially. "You're still new at this, you're still young. No one can be perfect. Mistakes are made, all that matters is that everyone is safe." He takes a pause.

"And you're safe and that's what matters to me," Bruce smiles warmly at his partner. Dick couldn't stop the tears that are suddenly pouring down his bruised cheeks. Dick throws his arm around Bruce's neck and sobs into his chest.

Bruce smiles softly and wraps his arm around his little bird rubbing soothing circles on his back. Eventually the boys breathe evens and he goes limp against Brice. The man laughs softly as he shifts Dick to the empty side of the bed and watches him sleeping feeling at peace. He quietly wonders how he never realized how empty his life had been without his little bird.