After an hour, the boys were getting anxious. "Is it supposed to take this long?" Tim asked. He was pacing worriedly in the hallway. "Maybe he's a perfectionist?" Jason suggested. "He might just be dead set on getting it accurate."

"Let's just check on him," Damian deadpanned. 

"But what if he's in the middle of something emotional?" Tim asked. 

"We'll just knock then open the door," he answered.

They followed Damian's lead and watched as he knocked on the door then went in. Dick was staring at the papers with his drawings, his body shaking slightly and his breathing too quick for comfort. "Grayson, are you alright?" he asked, slowly walking up to him. Dick turned to him sharply and nodded. "Yeah, just bad memories. What do you want with the drawings?" he asked, shuffling the sheets of paper. "Do you think you can go through them with us? Or do you want a break?" He shook his head with a weary smile. "Ok, Drake, Todd, he's okay," Damian announced to the brothers behind him. They breathed a sigh of relief and Tim hugged Dick lovingly. Damian sat on the couch, signalling for the others to do the same.

Tim sat in the middle with Dick on his lap and his brother's on either side of him. Dick bit his lip a little then fished out the first picture. It showed two bodies on the floor with stands around them and lots of red splattered around them. Dick was being pulled off by some woman and there was a dark figure with red eyes standing at the top of the trapeze. It was really gory for a child's artwork. "This is of that night. I was supposed to perform with them b-but the-they fell b-before I could," he explained.

"Who's this?" Jason asked, pointing at a dark figure behind the trapeze. 

"That's Zucco before the performance he-he undid the screws that held the ropes." 

"You saw him do this? Did you tell your parents?" he questioned. The boy teared up a little. 

"I-I tried. The-they were ju-just too b-busy to listen," he answered in a defeated tone. "Mama and Tati s-said I was im-imagining things." Tim hugged him, trying to comfort him. Luckily it worked.

"Who's this woman dragging you away?" Tim inquired. 

"That's the woman who took me to Mini Arkham. I think she was just trying to do her job but I really wanted to stay."

"How long had your family been in America for?" Tim asked out of curiosity. 

"Almost a year. Gotham is well known everywhere, that's how I learnt about you guys and Batman. Mama said when we get to Gotham, she was going to put Batman to the test and ask him to do a show with us. Tati thought he could do better," Dick reminisced with a laugh. "Heroes are hard to come across anywhere else, that's why I love it here. There's hope."

Next was a picture of Dick being pushed around by taller boys. He had a bloodied nose and looked in pain. There were wardens in the background but they were turned the other way. "My first day in Mini Arkham was bad. Well, that's an understatement. The boys cornered me and started beating me up. I called out for anyone to help but they either joined in or looked away. One of them said it was because I was scum. That sorta became my nickname," Dick explained, wincing at the memories. "Sugar honey iced tea (think about the first letter of every word) that's awful. Who could do that?" Tim asked. He thought for a moment before casting the picture to the side. "Kids who don't have a lot I guess. Wonder if they needed to do what they did to help themselves in a way."

He moved onto the next picture. It was of a man with a half orange face and half black. He had knives strapped to his waist and gripped Dick's hand. There was another boy in his grip. He had light brown hair and green eyes. "Wait, who's this?" Damien asked, pointing to the boy. 

"That's Thomas, he prefers-" Dick stopped and shivered a little. "Preferred Tommy," he corrected. It didn't sound right for him to use the past tense but he had to. "Was he taken with you?" Tim asked. He nodded.

"Slade took us about a day after I arrived. Tommy was older than me and told me it would be okay. I-it's a sh-shame it was-wasn't." he explained. 

"Did Slade ever hit you or Tommy?" Jason asked.

"Hitting was the least of our worries." Dick lifted up his shirt, revealing a large whip scar on his stomach. "He did this to us when we refused."

"Refused what?"

"To kill."

Silence. No. He couldn't have done anything. Dick was too innocent. He wouldn't have. Then again he talked about Tommy in past tense maybe he had. No. That's impossible.  "Grayson, did you ever?" Dick began to cry. 

"I-it wa-sn't my ch-choice," he stuttered through tears.

"Of course it was your choice! There is always a choice to this!" Jason yelled standing up. 

"No there isn't!" Tim yelled back as Dick cried heavily. How could he be so naive? It wasn't Dick's fault. "Really? How many times did you do it, Dick?" Jason questioned angrily. 

"T-ten ti-times. H-he thre-threatened Tom-my, I h-had to." 

"Bullshit! You didn't! You probably enjoyed it enough to do it ten times! How old were they?"

"Ja-Jason ple-please," Dick cried.

"How old?"

"Eig-Eight may-maybe old-er." Jason growled and gave him a look of disgust. Dick hid his face and continued to cry. "Todd get a hold of yourself and at least listen to him! We haven't even finished yet." Damian defended. Jason ignored him and turned away. "Look at him, Todd! He is crying his eyes out! If he was truly some cold-blooded killer he wouldn't be!" Jason sighed and turned. Dick did look distraught. Guilt began to eat away at him as soon as he saw Dick's eyes. They'd drained of their colour. "Sorry, Dickie-bird. I was just." He didn't really have a good excuse. Dick sniffled and stared at him worriedly. "Forgive me?" Dick nodded and Jason hugged him. He did feel bad for not giving him a chance. 

"Still feel like you can talk about your drawings Dickie?" Tim asked. He nodded and picked up the pictures, wiping his tears away. Tim kept his arms wrapped around him just in case he needed comfort and they carried on. Dick trembled a little before showing the next picture. It showed a boy, assumed to be Tommy, on the floor. Red covered everything and Slade stood over his body with a gun pointed at Tommy's head. Dick was on his knees, covering his mouth. "Dick? What happened?" Tim asked.

"I'd killed to protect him. Sl-Slade said Tommy and I were his best students, the only two to pass those dumb tests." He paused and let a tear drip down onto the paper. "But he could only have one apprentice. We had to fight one another. I hesitated....Tommy didn't."

"This kid tried to kill you?" Jason asked. 

"It was our task. He just decided before I could. I gained the upper hand. I could've pulled the trigger b-but."

"You didn't. So Slade did," Damian finished. 

"T-Tommy still lost even if I didn't kill him. Sl-Slade shot him and sent m-me back," he explained. "Oh Dickie, I'm so sorry," Tim apologized. 

"I just don't know why he tried to kill me when I'd killed for him." He wiped his tears away again and he sighed. 

"What's the last picture?" Jason asked, noticing the last paper in his hands.

"It's something that happened when I got back to mini Arkham," Dick said simply but he hesitated to change to it. He hadn't hesitated before. "What's going on?" he questioned. 

"You're supposed to trust adults. The-they should listen. But a guard there. They." He didn't finish, he just showed the drawing. It was Dick being beaten by the guard. "My God," Damian whispered. "Grayson, we should stop." He agreed, on the verge of crying again. 

"It's alright, you're safe here," Tim comforted. He stood up, taking Dick with him in his arms. "We should get you something to eat, we've done enough today." 

"Are you mad at me for h-hurting those people?" he stuttered. 

"Of course not. We understand it wasn't your fault," Tim told him. "Right guys?" he asked venomously. "Yeah," Damian agreed. They glared at Jason. 

"I'm not angry anymore. You really didn't have a choice." He was only eleven after all. Moral grey areas didn't exist yet. Dick smiled in relief and rubbed his eyes. "You tired buddy?" Tim asked. The child nodded. "You can take a nap whilst we make something," he replied putting Dick down on the couch. "We'll be back soon, get some rest," Tim said leaving the room with his brothers. Poor kid, they thought.