Finallyyy

                                    

                                          
-1 year later-
                          
"Dick Grayson?" 
                          
"Dick Grayson."
                          
"Dick Grayson!"
                          
"Yes sir!" Dick replied hastily, "Are you ready for your trial young man." Dick nodded, "Yes sir." "Your adoptive father has held it off for as long as he can," "I know."
                          
"He's heartbroken," The lawyer hummed. "He does truly care for you." Dick nodded his blue eyes sunken, due to lack if sleep. "How is he holding up if I may ask?" "Who?" 
                          
"Bruce," Dick urged, "How is Bruce?" "Still angry." Dick let his head hang. "He will forgive you in time."
                          
A police officer walked in, the look on his face looked like somebody ran over his toe with a semi truck. Dick allowed himself to daze off as he was escorted into a courtroom. He let his mind free as the lawyers stated their cases and points, all over him. 
                          
Out of the corner of his eye he saw a bird fly by the window, Dick shifted himself so he could watch the bird pass by the many windows. His eyes gazed over to the people who came to watch, his eyes finding blue bloodshot eyes.
                          
It was Roy. Dick watched Roy as he looked down at his hands, his puffy red eyes, his scrunched up eyes, the corners of his mouth downwards into a frown, and silent tears.
                          
Dick took a deep breath as his gaze shifted, Alfred? Yes. Alfred.
                          
 The old man's face was pale, as with shaking hands he held a rosary. His usual laid back look was taken over by  a look of terror. 
                          
 Bruce was nowhere to be seen. Of course.
                          
 Would you be happy if somebody killed a boy that was your adoptive son you barley knew?
                          
 Dick was pretty sure there was a few other heroes but he didn't have the heart to keep on looking. 
                          
 "Dick Grayson," the judge's voice boomed, "Yes?" "Do you have anything to say in your defense," "No sir." The judge nodded, he lifted his wooden hammer. "Guilty to manslaughter."
                          
 And that was it. Rosary beads dropped onto the floor, silent tears turned into sobs, doors slamming open. And there stood Bruce Wayne.
                          
 He was to late, only early enough to see his adoptive son dragged out of the room. Accepting his fate of prison.
                          
 Max left at a unmarked grave of his little brother. The only thing to leave a clue to it being Ronin was the tiny photograph of the man who killed him. The same photograph that led him to his demise. The one the green haired clown price gave him.
                          
With kiss marks.