This is a little drabble that popped into my head. I just had to write it; my muse demanded it.

Song is 'For the Love of a Daughter' by Demi Lavato

Disclaimer: I do not own Young Justice. If I did, I would have developed the jealousy with Robin and Aqualad more. It just kind of fizzled into nothing, and a simple basketball game wouldn't fix that I think.

Also, is it just me or did Batman look like a really bad creeper just watching Robin work out. Just me? Oh well. :P

Hiding the Wounds, Living a Lie

Four years old with my back to the door

All I could hear was the family you wore

Your selfish hands always expecting more

Am I your child or just a charity ward?

Dick sat outside of the grand hall, listening to the well-bred laughter and banter that the snobs of Gotham society amused themselves with. He heard the swish of the ladies' dresses and the champagne glasses clinking together. Another Wayne Foundation Charity Ball. Another day for Bruce Wayne to put on his mask.

And yes, Dick knew that he billionaire's smile and gaggle of girls was a mask. After all, all traces of that smile disappeared once the doors to Wayne Manor were sealed shut. Behind those doors Bruce was a different man: he never smiled, he didn't care, the most he'd ever voice to the young ebony were soft words of disappointment or rage-filled rants that tore the bird to shreds. Sometimes he wondered if it all was worth it.

If hiding all those feelings of rejection and worthlessness from the world was worth it.

He wondered what would happen if he actually tried to build a semblance of a relationship with Bruce outside of crime fighting, if he actually voiced these feelings to the billionaire. The idea of getting some attention, no matter how small, drove him towards this possibility several times over the course of his time in Gotham. And several times he almost brought up the matter.

But the one thing that dissuaded him from speaking up was that utter look of disinterest that his foster father got on his face when he entered the room. Dick always decided to keep quiet after those looks…at least until the next futile attempt.

It seemed like he was only good as a fellow crime fighter to Bruce, although heaven knew that he wanted a father or at least the slightest hint of love. He had a few friends at school: Babs, Bette, and occasionally Artemis, although she was more of an acquaintance than a friend (at least in school, being heroes didn't count). But it wasn't the same as having family.

And Dick didn't dare ask Bruce about the issue. He knew what would come.

He heard the stories or course. Who wouldn't? They gave him smiles at the charity balls and the social gatherings; they exchanged playful banter back and forth like all the socialites did. But the truth was that those in high society detested him. Words such as 'charity case' and 'circus freak' and 'gypsy trash'. And they were all true. There wasn't one time that Dick could recall where Bruce gave any indication that there was any other reason that he took him in. He certainly didn't act like he cared.

So it was obvious that he didn't care. Right?

You have a hollowed out heart

But it's heavy in your chest

I try so hard to fight it but it's hopeless

Hopeless, you're hopeless

Dick prided himself on being the type of person to make light of a situation, no matter how bad. He was the brightness among everyone else's gloom. His mother and father had said that to him: he was destined to fly and to remind people how to. And he had believed that for so many years; it had been what he repeated in his head when he felt worthless and small and weak.

But now…that statement didn't have as much relevance as it did before. It seemed that no matter what he'd do, Bruce would never smile. His frown stayed, in fact it got even deeper when he entered the room. So what was that about flying, and why did it seem so meaningless now?

Just the fact that his mantra was disappearing filled him with so much sadness. It was like he had lost another piece of his parents, and he had so few left. He had his picture albums full of happy times, and that was the only thing that saved him from forgetting their faces. But their voices, his mother's laugh, his father's deep baritone when he sang. All gone. And it just seemed like the end of the world when he realized it.

Now all he had was Bruce. How come that sounded so much like a death sentence?

Oh father, please father

I'd love to leave you alone, but I can't let you go

Oh father, please father

Put the bottle down for the love of a daughter

Wally heard the door slam shut and quickly ran to his room. Maybe if he was quiet enough he would leave him alone. One could hope.

But it was not the case; evidently his Dad was in a bad mood today. Rudolf West stomped up the stairs and barged into his room.

Another person would fight back; they would be brave and stand up for themselves. And Wally would…if it was just him. But if he kicked his father out, which he was very well capable of doing; his father would just head downstairs and start beating his mother. That was something that Wally had promised to himself that would never happen.

So he just curled into a ball in the corner of his room and bit his lip as the blows landed. It was best to keep quiet when his father was like this. He had learned that a long time ago. If he begged and cried, Dad would just kick harder and punch more tender spots. He always stayed silent.

Inside, though, he was screaming. He wanted to yell: 'Why do you do this? Don't you love me?' He wanted to run away as fast as his legs would carry him and just screw everyone who saw him without his costume. But he was scared too. First and foremost, what would happen to Mom? He couldn't just leave her. Second, he didn't know what he would do if he did. He didn't want to leave Dad alone either; Mom always locked herself in her room after this. Who would give Dad a shower after he passed out and who would clean the floor and Dad after he threw up on himself. He couldn't just leave them. But he so wanted to.

Don't you remember I'm your baby girl

How could you throw me right out of your world

So young when the pain had begun

Now forever of afraid of being loved

Whenever Wally went to school, he would eat in the corner of the cafeteria and then rush out as soon as he was done. He didn't talk to anyone; he was what psychiatrists would call 'antisocial'. He didn't have any friends, and he was the school punching bag because of his silence.

This told Wally that it wasn't just his Dad that knew he was worthless; it was others too. And if more than one person confirmed it, it must be true. Those were the laws of science, right?

And science made so much sense. It was unbiased. It just told the straight facts, not the sugar-coated stories that children always believed. Evil was recognizable by ugly witches, and good always had the help of their animal friends that talked and sang along with them. Wally had tried that when he was younger and it had first started. He had secretly checked his Dad for any warts or signs that his skin was turning green. He had sung quietly, trying to call any animal friends that he might have. No one came.

So he quickly realized that magic was lies. Science was the only thing that yielded results.

It was his reprieve, his break from the horrors of the real world. All he had to worry about was whether the measurements were correct and if the chemicals bonded correctly. And everyone's answers were the same. No one got any special treatment, and no one failed miserably unless they made the mistakes themselves.

Science was unbiased.

People weren't. He knew how they would react if they saw the handprints on his flesh. They would know that he was worthless and a failure and they would abandon him. And he didn't care so much about his 'schoolmates', but the Team…and Uncle Barry.

They would abandon him, and that he couldn't handle. So he would lie and play happy for them. He would act like nothing was wrong and they wouldn't think twice. Robin was his best bud; how would he react when he saw the bruises and the cuts? He just didn't want to think about that. They were heroes, sure, but they saved the worthy. He wasn't. And no one could really love him. He was Wally.

So it was better to lie. The alternative…he couldn't bear to think about it.

You like? No? Please tell me what you think. And if I should continue this!