This room was huge.
Dick Grayson thought it was even bigger than the entire trailer he and his parents had lived in while touring.
The furniture was dark solid wood, and curtains hung low around a four-poster bed.
The windows faced Gotham City's hazy skyline in the distance. The room was remarkably tidy, but it also had the chilly air of a place that had stood empty for years. There was none of the big top's noise or colorful lights here, only a stony silence and unchanging shadows.
"I hope you like the room," Alfred said, drawing back the curtains to reveal the enormous floor-to-ceiling windows. "Master Bruce stayed here when he was about your age."
Dick looked up at Bruce Wayne, who rested a hand gently on his shoulder.
"This isn't easy, Dick, but you need to give yourself time to come to terms with it... well... however long it takes, you can stay with us..."
He paused, looking into Dick's dull blue eyes. Once full of an aerialist's sparkle and laughter, they now held nothing but desolation.
Bruce wanted to say more. The platitudes he had prepared-"time heals everything," or "they would want you to be strong"-rolled around in his throat before he swallowed them back down.
He had once been the one left behind, too. He knew how hollow those words were.
"Come, Mr. Wayne." Alfred opened the door. "I believe Master Dick needs some time to settle in."
Bruce Wayne gently patted the boy's stiff shoulder and left the room. Alfred bowed slightly and withdrew after him.
Dick remained silent. Their comfort reached his ears as though through thick glass, muffled and distant.
His gaze wandered aimlessly around the room.
A heavy desk with some expensive-looking stationery on top; an empty glass cabinet; and on the