Archive of Our Own

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Dick was fourteen the first time he was woken late one night by the ringing of bells, and the faintest, faintest sounds of music wafting through the air. It was haunting, a tune Dick had never heard before, but he knew, deep down, that it would never truly leave him.

He blearily raised his head, peering around the room. It was the darkest of nights, with not even the moon shining outside. Through the half open curtains that covered Dick’s window, he could see a faint glow of torches in the distance.

The Wayne castle stood tall upon its hill, giving its inhabitants the perfect view of the streets of Gotham down below. Dick, when he’d been taken in as a ward at the tender age of eight by Lord Bruce, hadn’t hesitated before choosing this particular room. It was a few doors down from Bruce’s chambers, but the most important thing about it had been that it overlooked both the sea and the town below.

The signs of life from the town square had been the only thing Dick had been able to reliably cling to in the early days, when the dark quiet of the castle threatened to send him further plummeting into the grief of his parents’ death. He had liked to see the signs of life moving on, the variety of festivals that took place every once in a while, or when entertainers would pass through and stay for a few nights, earning a penny here and there with their performances.

At first, Dick thought that the music was coming from a troop, arriving in the town late at night. Gotham had recently been through a gold mine scam, with a pair of young con artists who had convinced the entire town – or, those who had money enough – that there was gold to be mined in the fields just beyond the main city. Citizens were still recovering from that, and they’d all been reluctant to trust outsiders.

But, Dick noted, there weren’t nearly as many torches as he’d originally thought there to be. In fact, it seemed that there was really just one torch, weaving its way through town.

He had to go down there and investigate, in case it was a precursor to a riot or brawl.

Dick didn’t stop to think about it. He slipped out of bed, and headed straight for the solid iron chest that sat at the foot of his bed. He was the only one who had a key to it – not even Bruce could open it. From inside it, he pulled out a green leotard, bright gold hooded cape, and a red tunic. Getting dressed was an automatic thing now, after so many years.

Lastly, he added the belt, making sure he had in it his bird shaped throwing stars and the medicine pouch. He never knew what he was getting into until he was in the thick of it, but there was no helping it. Bruce had certainly tried to dissuade him, but Dick had to be Robin. It was a part of him.

When he’d been younger – before Bruce had known about his night activities – he’d used to have a bicycle that would carry him to Gotham. Now, since his cover was known to the man, he used Ace, the horse he’d been riding ever since he’d come to the castle.

Sounds of the crowd drew Dick to the town square, but he realised what was happening long before he got there. Ace didn’t shy easily, but he did so now, with the flurry of rats – big, fat rats, that made even Dick’s skin crawl just a little – that were racing down the cobblestoned streets.

There were positively hundreds of them. Dick knew that farmers and shopkeepers had been complaining about a rodent problem lately, about how no amount of poison, traps, or cats could keep up with their numbers.

This? ‘Problem’ didn’t even come within throwing distance of this. There had to be ten rats for every citizen living in the city, and they were all three times the size of even the largest rodent Dick had seen.

Dick dismounted, and tied Ace to a nearby post. No one bothered the horse – the mask on his face and his own cape, a replica of Robin’s, indicated who he belonged to, and Robin was popular amongst the people. Children often came up to give Ace treats, which he accepted with all the grace of a bottomless pit.

“What has happened?” Dick asked a nearby man. He stood in front of his house with a torch and pitchfork in hand, still in his nightgown. Three faces stared outside from the window, small fingers pressed against the panes.

The man shrugged, his eyes on the creatures darting past the two of them. “The children woke up,” he said, his Gotham accent shining through particularly strongly with his tiredness. “They wanted to follow the rats, but we forbade them.”

Dick nodded a thanks, and used the small crossbow he kept strapped to his back to shoot a line to the roof of the house. It was clear that other parents hadn’t been nearly as cautious – or the children had been far too caught up in the pull of the phenomenon. The main road had children on every street corner, clumping together in little groups as they pointed and screeched at the rodents.

Dick dropped down right behind a particularly loud group. “Good evening,” he said cheerfully. “Or perhaps I should say ‘good morning’.”

They all jumped, whirling around to face him. Dick’s grin widened as their eyes grew at the sight of Robin.

“Robin!” one of them shrieked, before the other one elbowed her in the gut. She glowered at her friend, before turning back to Dick. “We knew you would come! Is this not a miracle?”

“A miracle?” Dick asked, though he knew what she meant. The rodents had begun to eat into the town’s food that was supposed to last them until the next harvest season. It’d been all that Bruce had been able to talk about, during their dinners – trade with other towns was difficult with their limited ships and merchants, but he was working on something with their neighbouring fiefs.

The young girl – for she was tiny, beneath the shawl she had draped over her shoulders – nodded enthusiastically. “Yes! The man has been leading them into the sea!”

“The man?” Dick raised his eyebrows, relaxing his stance.

This time, one of the other children took over the narration. “The man in the jester clothes!” he told him. “He has a magic flute that makes the rats follow him!”

“I see,” Dick said. “I think I’ll visit the sea myself, now. You lot should head on to bed. Your parents will be missing you.”

His heart hurt just a little when he heard the little derisive snort that the two of them gave, as the rest of the group shuffled their feet and looked awkwardly away. He knew that Gotham wasn’t perfect, no matter how hard Bruce tried. And he knew how it felt to think you were unwanted, and couldn’t imagine how it must be to actually be unwanted.

Dick stuck to the rooftops, not wanting to trip over some rat and have to clean up its guts from his boots. He followed the brown stream, which was now a small trickle. The man, whoever he was, must’ve gotten most of them to him by now. What should he call him, Dick wondered. Rat-Man? Rat-Attractor? Rat-Catcher?

In the dark of the night, the torch the man carried – for it must be him who Dick had seen from his window – could be seen from miles away. Dick was nimble with years of practise, footsteps as silent as they could be as he ran after it. Nights like this he lived for, where there was a mystery to be solved and so far, no body count.

Dick finally got to the last building before the shoreline began. He used a trail of vines to climb down from the three-story building he was on top of, standing at a distance as he took in the man.

He was dressed as a jester in red and yellow, just as the children had said, complete with the hat and bell, though if it made a sound, Dick was yet to hear it. On his lips, he held a flute, playing seamlessly. Dick’s skin itched as the music poured through him, so much louder now. The hairs on his arms and the back of his neck rose; there was something inhuman about the sound. Dick would go so far as to say ethereal.

The rats could clearly feel it too, because they, without hesitation, ran straight into the sea. The sea was crowded with the amount of dead rats floating in it, in the little basin that met the town, where all the children came to play during the day, and merchants used natural resources from to make their crafts.

It was lucky this wasn’t their source of drinking water, Dick thought distantly, eyes still fixated on the man and the dead rats surrounding him.

The jester was standing knee deep in the sea, still wearing his shoes. Dick approached him quietly, body tense.

“Excuse me,” he said, with a cheer he didn’t feel. His hands hovered over his weapons as he got closer. “Who are you?”

The jester stopped playing, and Dick felt as though he’d just woken up properly. He slowly turned around, and to Dick’s surprise, he saw that the jester’s face was devoid of make-up. It was just a regular human face, of anyone he might meet at the markets.

“I,” the jester said, “am the Pied Piper of Hamelin.”

“Hamelin?” Dick frowned. The name struck no bells. “What is your business in Gotham?”

The jester raised his arms slightly, a small smile on his face. “I did just rid you of your pests problem. Do I receive no thanks?”

Dick nodded his head. “You do,” he said. “As Gotham’s protector, I thank you on behalf of its citizens. But as Gotham’s protector, I must ask who you are, and why you are here.”

The jester shrugged. “I am merely a traveller passing through your lovely town. I will only stay for one week, no more and no less.”

Dick nodded warily. “All right,” he said. “I suppose you know where the local inn is?”

The Pied Piper nodded. “Their rat infestation is what led to this,” he said. There was a strange undercurrent to his voice, something Dick couldn’t quite put his finger on.

“Then I suppose I must thank Miss Cobblepot,” Dick responded easily. “Come. I’ll walk you back.”

Dick looked carefully, but there was no reluctance on the Pied Piper’s face as he agreed, and on the way to the inn, he and Dick chatted easily about his travelling schedule.

Bruce was waiting for Dick in his chambers when Dick climbed back in through the window. In the few seconds before Bruce registered Dick’s presence, Dick looked at him. It’d always been a fascination of his, to observe people when they thought no one was watching. Or rather, to observe Bruce, because to an eight-year-old boy, Bruce had been shrouded in mystery.

He still was, Dick reflected, studying how the man sat on the edge of Dick’s bed, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. His hands were tightly clenched, and there were deep frown lines on his face.

His manner changed entirely when Dick climbed inside, face clearing up for a moment in relief before smoothing over towards neutral. Shrouded in mystery, Dick thought ruefully, working to remove his mask.

“Well?” Bruce asked quietly, standing up.

Dick methodically removed his Robin costume behind the screen, knowing Bruce could hear him perfectly well, but that this wing was devoid of others who might be listening in. “A man who goes by ‘Pied Piper of Hamelin’ played a flute and drew away all of Gotham’s rats – and there were plenty, mind you – into the sea. So now we have a mysterious traveller, but no rodents.”

Bruce grunted, and Dick hid a smile, knowing exactly what sort of perplexed look the other man was currently wearing. Over the course of Dick’s time in Gotham – not to mention the lifetime that Bruce had spent here – they’d seen plenty of strange things, but this was definitely stranger than most.

“Why?” Bruce finally asked.

Dick shrugged, stepping out from behind the screen. He started folding up his costume and putting it away neatly, hating it but knowing that his future self would thank him for it.

“I haven’t the faintest,” Dick said, scrubbing at his hands, legs, and face with water in the pitcher on the nearby table. “He’s staying at the inn, though. You could pay him a visit tomorrow, on a walk through town.”

Bruce hummed. “I’ll have to,” he said knowingly. “But you have your studies.”

“This is the thanks I get for my detective work,” Dick grumbled as he slipped beneath the covers. “A day in with the tutors.”

Bruce didn’t say anything, and when Dick glanced up, he found Bruce looking back at him with something he didn’t quite know how to decipher. “Sleep,” Bruce rumbled, a hand running over Dick’s face.

Dick slept.

Two nights later, Dick woke to the sound of music playing. He felt a keen sense of déjà vu as he sat up in bed. This time, however, moonlight streamed in through the window, lighting up his room. It was much earlier in the night this time than the first, was Dick’s second thought. The third was that, though this was a different tune, it reverberated within his very bones.

Dick was out from his covers before he could even properly think about it, his hands gripping the edge of the window tight as he peered out and towards Gotham. Torches were lit up – many more than they had been that first time. They seemed to have gathered at the town square, and there were enough lights there that it seemed like a good half of the population was present.

Robin costume. Dick shoved his feet into his boots, feeling the thrum of the music urging him on. His body was filled with adrenaline, and his hands shook slightly as he pulled on his gloves. Part of him wanted to ditch the belt altogether – he was spending much too long getting dressed – and that was what jerked him out of it. Leaving behind his belt? Which had all his medical supplies, his tools?

Dick shook his head violently, trying to wake up. He walked over to the pitched of water, and poured it out into the basin, cupping some in his hands and splashing it on his face. He felt only slightly better, but it would have to do – he needed to get down there and see what was going on.

It seemed like Ace was just as intrigued, because he cantered eagerly towards the town. Dick had to slow him down as they were riding down the hill, lest he step in a pothole.

Going from riding from the castle to tying Ace to a post to the town square felt like a dream. Dick could barely remember the sequence of events that led him there. He watched from atop a nearby roof as the Pied Piper stood in the middle of the town square, playing his flute. He wore the same outfit Dick had seen him in that first time, right down to his hat.

Someone had provided him with a wooden crate, and he stood on it, rising above the crowd that had gathered to listen to him play. People were swaying back and forth, some couples holding each other as their eyes gazed upon the Piper. There was a tranquil stillness to the town, as though the faintest of movements could break this spell the man was casting.

Dick spotted that same group of children in a dark corner, huddled together listening to the Piper play. They had a dreamy look in their eyes, but they didn’t dare venture into the crowd full of adults. That was okay – it made it easier for Dick to speak to them.

He ventured over, leaping down from the roof lightly. This time, one of the children spotted him before he landed, and it seemed to break a trance in all of them, because as one, they turned to look at Dick, eyes as wide as when they’d spoken with him a couple days ago.

“Robin!” one of them whispered.

“Good eve…” Dick paused. “Hello is all I can say now, really. What’re your names? I forgot to ask last time.”

The girl who’d first spoken to him said, “Steph,” and the boy who’d told him about the Piper said, “Jason. And this is Tim,” nudging the smallest boy, whose eyes took up approximately a third of his face.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you all,” Dick said with a grin, “especially with how helpful you were last time.”

They seemed to grow three times at his words, and something in Dick simultaneously grew warm and very, very cold at the thought of these children with no one to properly love them. Which from this crowd were their parents, he wondered. Perhaps if he subtly mentioned how useful their information was, they would receive praise.

“What’s happening here now?” he asked, in that same low tone.

The one called Steph shrugged. “We heard the sound of music and followed it,” she said. We? Dick wondered. Were they siblings, perhaps? Or cousins? “There was already a crowd gathered when we arrived.”

“But it’s well past midnight,” Dick said.

It wasn’t uncommon for festivals to go on this late, or even when circuses and other performers were in town. But for a lone musician, to begin his performance at this hour? It was strange, to say the least. Dick had been raised around performers of all sorts of peculiarities, who each had their idiosyncrasies. It was all part of being in a circus. But this was very different. The very air around them was different to that of a crowd staying up so late.

But it wasn’t as though there was a disturbance, or a crime. Dick stayed there, with the children, until the last notes of the flute faded.

Or at least, he thought he did, but when his eyes snapped open, he realised that it was well past dawn, and he was still in the town square, huddled in a corner with the group of children. It didn’t seem as though anyone but the four of them had fallen asleep there – the general hustle and bustle of the place was the same as ever, and no one seemed to be worse off for their very late night.

Dick must’ve been more tired than he’d realised, he thought, eyes darting around. Steph, Jason, and Tim were awake now, but their eyes seemed resigned more so than surprised.

Dick cleared his throat. “I’m sorry,” he began, “I didn’t mean to—”

“Take these,” the smallest one – Tim, Jason had said – suddenly shoved two burlap sacks into his hands. “For your disguise.”

Dick glanced down at himself, inwardly cursing his decisions to hell and back. What had he been thinking, just falling asleep like that? It was going to be much harder sneaking back into his chambers, not to mention Bruce when he realised that Dick was only just returning… For the first time since heading out as Robin, Dick regretted never leaving a discreet note saying where he was, because he knew without a doubt that there would be a stern lecture awaiting him once he returned.

“Thank you,” he said graciously. “I’ll return them to you tomorrow night! You needn’t show me where you live,” he knew that asking children to show him their houses was… not a trustworthy move in the slightest, “but I can place them here—”

“We’ll be here,” Steph interrupted him, with a glance at Jason. “We’re good at sneaking out.”

Dick paused, about to be a complete and utter hypocrite and tell them about how they really shouldn’t do that, when he realised that now that they were up and moving, their little group was receiving glances from the rest of the town.

“Go,” Jason said, tugging the sack that Dick had wrapped around himself like a shawl into place. “Don’t worry,” he added with a rakish grin, “we’re good kids.”

Dick laughed, and ruffled his hair, before he headed off towards where he’d left Ace. There were two small children who were petting his nose as Dick approached, but they scattered instantly when they saw him. He didn’t mind, though – he really needed to get going.

The ride from Gotham all the way to the castle felt much longer than when Dick had been racing down that hill only a few hours ago. He couldn’t blame Ace – the poor horse definitely hadn’t wanted to spend the night outside instead of his cosy stall at the castle stables.

Dick had to take off his mask as they approached the castle – leaving the castle was fine, and easy, even, because Dick had gone out of his way during the earlier years to keep odd hours at night and go out riding, long before Robin had been spotted, and it was now seen as yet another oddity, but to return so late would beg the question of where he’d stayed all night.

“Good morning!” Dick called out, trying to look awake and refreshed from a ride.

“Good morning, Master Richard,” one of the castle guards said confusedly. “You were out riding?”

Dick nodded, patting Ace’s neck and hoping the guard didn’t look to Dick’s bare legs and green boots. “I was feeling restless all night,” he explained. “Thought a good, hard ride would do us both some good.”

The guard nodded, a frown coming over her face. “I could not sleep, either,” she confessed. “There was… music playing.”

“A performer is in town.”

“Yes. The Pied Piper from Hamelin. His skills are remarkable.”

“As are the acoustics from the town square to the castle,” Dick said with a grin, and was rewarded with one in return. “I must be going. Bruce will be wondering where I am. Good day, Jean.”

The guard nodded her regards, and resumed her stance. Jean Paul was one of Bruce’s personal guards, who had travelled alongside him for many years. Dick was naturally a friendly person, but it’d taken him a while to warm up to the guard – now, it was as though Jean turned a blind eye to Dick’s night activities. Hell, perhaps she thought he had a lover in town. It would certainly explain the lack of pants.

Dick normally liked to cool off and rub down Ace himself after a ride, but today he handed the horse off to one of the stablehands. James Gordon was young, still an apprentice, but he had an eagerness that made Dick smile as he handed over the reins.

And then there was no further reason left that Dick could use to avoid Bruce. He exhaled deeply as he made his way up the spiralling staircase to the east wing, where he knew Bruce would be breakfasting.

He only stopped by his own chambers for a quick change of clothes, and to splash water over his face, looking at his reflection quickly to make sure he was at least somewhat presentable. It was strange – normally, his eyes had dark bags beneath them after a couple of sleepless nights as Robin, but tonight, they were non-existent. Dick didn’t feel particularly rested – more like he’d been pulled out of a state of paralysis, but he’d take what he could get. This would, at least, stop Alfred from fretting.

The door to Bruce’s personal dining hall was closed, but Dick expected nothing less. He raised an eyebrow at the guard stationed outside the thick wooden doors, and one of them made an exaggerated show of grimacing and shook his head just the slightest.

Dick wrinkled his nose in reply, and smiled at the guard as he braced himself.

“Good morning,” he greeted as he entered.

Bruce was seated at the end of the table, the barest scraps of food laid out in front of him. His head snapped up as Dick entered, and Dick saw the other plate, placed diagonal to Bruce’s on the table.

Bruce opened his mouth to say something, and then closed it again. Dick saw his jaw clenching and unclenching as he struggled to find something to say. Normally – had Dick not just spent an entire night out as Robin – he would’ve made a joke, something to prompt Bruce into speaking, but right now, he’d rather the other man didn’t get into a lecture about safety and worry.

He ripped up a piece of the bread, and served himself some of the broth, dunking the bread in and eating as though he hadn’t had a meal in a week.

Finally, when Dick was about halfway through his plate, Bruce spoke. “Did you find anything?”

Dick relaxed incrementally, and shook his head. “I awoke a few hours after going to bed, and when I arrived at Gotham, the Piper was in the town square playing music.”

Bruce frowned. “That was all?” The unspoken question of then what were you doing all night? hung between the two of them.

Dick shuffled in his chair. “I was with a group of children,” he said, mind working on how to say this without outright telling Bruce that he’d fallen asleep in the middle of the town, right out in the open. “Their parents must have either been in the town square, or not noticed that they had snuck out. So I stayed with them until morning.”

Bruce looked at him, head tilted slightly. “Why did you not ask them about their parents?” he asked, voice genuinely confused.

“They fell asleep. Listening to the music. They looked tired, so I didn’t wake them up.”

Bruce looked at Dick for another moment, before softly saying, “Fine,” and going back to his meal.

Despite the lack of angry words or lecture, Dick still felt wrong-footed, as though there’d been something at stake here and he’d blown it. He tried to stifle down the feeling, but the food was tasteless in his mouth.

There were no more Piper related incidents for the next three nights, though Dick travelled to Gotham every day just in case. The second and third night, he rode through the streets on Ace, patrolling the area.

The first night, however, he gave the sacks back to the children, as well as delicacies he’d stolen from the castle kitchens that he knew Bruce had received as compliments from recent travels to neighbouring fiefs.

They accepted the strange cheeses and fruits with wide eyes, and used the sacks as a mat to lay their spread out upon. Dick seized the opportunity to ask them questions.

“So,” he said, taking a single grape and popping it into his mouth. He refused the rest when they tried to include him in their dividing of the food, saying he wasn’t hungry. “What are your families?”

That instantly put them all on guard, but Dick was only slightly sorry that he had asked.

“Look,” he said seriously, leaning forward a little. “If you are in need of a place to stay, go to the castle, and tell them that Robin sent you. Lord Wayne will take you in, without a single question, and make sure you have enough to eat and a bed to sleep in.”

Well, Bruce would make sure of a lot more than that, starting from education to play, but that wasn’t the sort of thing Robin was supposed to know about, or that Dick could say, without revealing his own tale, and that of the other children who Bruce had fostered over the years, though none for as long as Dick had been there.

Barbara and James were the only ones who were still in contact with Dick – though they’d stayed in the castle only for a short period of time when their father had been thought to be dead. James had stayed and become an apprentice to their horse master, but Barbara had left for university the previous year.

Dick missed Batgirl, though he’d hear, from time to time, stories passed through word of mouth about a protector of Metropolis.

More shifty glances. Dick looked away, to give them as much privacy as he could, but that didn’t change the disappointment he felt when they told him their families were waiting for them.

Everything changed on the final night of the Piper’s stay. Dick had been waiting for this day with bated breath, knowing that he could finally sleep knowing that the Piper wasn’t up to something when he was finally out of their borders. So of course this was the night something finally happened.

Dick woke up on Ace. He was wearing his Robin outfit, but he had no memory of anything past getting into bed and blowing out the candle. He almost fell off the horse, and it was only years of riding that he managed to tighten his legs and grab onto Ace’s mane.

Ace blew out a breath, clearly annoyed with Dick, and Dick patted his withers in apology.

They were headed down to Gotham. Had Dick finally reached peak efficiency in not only sleepwalking, but also sleepdressing and sleepriding? Would the next stage to this be sleepvigilanting?

He looked back towards the castle, but it was the same as ever, with the only lights being those of the guards stationed at the gates. But for the life of him, he couldn’t turn back. Something was calling him to Gotham, and Dick didn’t have it in him to not respond.

The streets were in chaos when Dick arrived. He slowed Ace down to a trot, and then dismounted entirely because people were dashing about all over the place and it was difficult to spot someone calm who Dick could talk to. He found himself looking around for Jason and Steph and Tim, but they were nowhere to be seen.

“Mrs Cobblepot?” he called, seeing the old innkeeper wringing her hands on the front of her dress. “What has happened?”

“Robin!” A look of pure relief passed over her face. “Of course, you are unaffected!”

“Unaffected?” Dick repeated.

“He has taken the children!” Her eyes were big and scared, but beneath them, there was a rage that Dick knew he wouldn’t want to be on the receiving end of.

“The Piper?”

The woman nodded. “I should have known when I allowed the bastard to board here. But he was perfectly charming, and he played for us near every night.”

“But now he’s taken the children?”

“Witchcraft,” Mrs Cobblepot hissed at him. “He’s a witch, he is. He played that flute of his, and they followed without a care in the world.”

“Mrs Cobblepot, do you know where they were headed?” Dick had a sinking feeling in his stomach, but that didn’t help matters when Mrs Cobblepot confirmed what he already knew. The Pied Piper was taking the children to the sea.

Dick took Ace instead of flying over the rooftops. He didn’t know what sort of a situation he was going to run into, but he knew that he had to be prepared for absolutely anything. The rhythmic sound of hooves as they raced towards the seashore was grounding; his fingers trailed over the edges of his throwing birds, reassuring him with their cold weight.

Though the sea was just outside the town, it felt as though a whole day had passed before Dick saw the deep black of the waters at night. The moon was only half visible, partly hidden by clouds that kept coming and going. Despite himself, he shivered; there was something in the air tonight, and he knew he would’ve felt it even if he’d never left his chambers.

Dick could hear the music now, feel the pull of it. But perhaps it was because he was too old, or for some other reason, because he didn’t feel the intoxicating energies of the song like he had that night he’d slept in the town square. Sort of like that time he’d been given a dose of opium, though with far more coordination.

“Jason!” Dick called out, seeing the boy’s bright red head of hair, standing out in the crowd like a flame.

Jason, who was normally so skittish, normally so wary, gave no sign that he’d heard Dick’s call. Half the children were already in the water; it was lucky that this was a basin, and the sea level was shallow for quite some time, though then it dropped steeply. But Dick had time.

The Piper… he had to find the Piper. He couldn’t waste time trying to rouse any of the children – from his meagre experience in dealing with magic users, that wouldn’t do very much. Victims always woke up disoriented and scared, if they woke at all.

The clouds swept over the moon, shrouding the landscape into darkness for a long few seconds. Dick vaulted onto Ace’s back. He didn’t always ride with a saddle, and tonight, he hadn’t had enough time to grab the tack – Ace only had on his halter and the lead, though Dick had worked and trained with him for long enough that didn’t impact them very much. He’d worked with show ponies before, when he’d still been a performer. Dick’s only real wish now was that he was barefoot, but that was impractical.

There was a glint of light coming from a nearby clifftop. Dick narrowed his eyes at it – he only had one opportunity to get this right, because the time it would take to scale that cliffside would mean that the children would drown if he made a mistake.

But the glint came once again, as the moon revealed itself. Dick was off Ace’s back in a flash, racing over the sand.

He had to get around to the other side, so the Piper wouldn’t see him coming. Dick was breathing deeply as he rounded the side, feet sinking into the sand; it was a relief when it faded into solid ground. He didn’t think before he aimed his crossbow, the grapple line flying upwards and embedding itself into the cliffside.

Dick couldn’t tell where it had struck, but a few tugs told him that it would hold his weight. He’d just have to manage the rest once he got up there; he didn’t have enough time to shoot another line.

Music floated over him, sinking deep into the ground. Dick’s skin prickled; it was as though the very air was heavier, a little like humidity. Even as Dick heard the tune, some part of him, deep down, knew that he’d forget it the moment it stopped playing. This was a not song meant to be remembered.

Dick tried to be as silent as he could, climbing up the jagged cliff. He and Barbara had practised this blindfolded and at all sorts of strange hours. It’d been an adventure then, when they’d both started out. Two protectors of Gotham, perched upon the rooftops.

Hand over hand, feet finding footholds. Dick’s gloves weren’t thick enough to stop him from feeling the sharp bite of the rocks, but their sting helped keep him focused. Better a rough cliff wall than a smooth one.

Dick could see the Piper’s colourful boots. He played the flute facing the sea, clearly not expecting anyone to stop him. And who would? The townspeople couldn’t scale this cliff, nor would they think to do so once they saw their children in the water. Already, Dick could see the flames from torches as a giant mob approached, though what had taken them so long, he had no idea.

Dick crept closer, and then brought out his crossbow and one of his throwing birds. “It’s over, Piper,” he said. “Let them go.”

The Piper finished the note before slowly lowering his flute. He turned his head to the side a little, so Dick could see his profile in the moonlight.

“I am the musician,” he told Dick in a voice devoid of anything that made it human, “and I say when it is over.”

He raised his flute to his mouth once more, and Dick threw his weapon. It flew straight through the air and knocked the flute out of the Piper’s hand. The Piper let out a shout of rage, whirling around, but Dick was ready for him.

He leapt forward, aiming a kick at the Piper’s midriff, but the Piper had somehow anticipated his movement. He avoided Dick’s kick, and pulled out another flute from his belt, placing it to his lips.

In the time it took for Dick to recover and aim another hit, he’d played a single note. That was all it took.

Dick staggered beneath the weight of the note. Where the Piper’s other songs had been wonderful, beautiful in the way a fossilised bug was beautiful, the way the cold, dark depths of the ocean were beautiful, this one was as lovely as the grating of fingernails on a blackboard, as eerie as watching the sea at night, the natural progression of things. Something in Dick told him to calm down, to relax, because someone else had the reins now, and Dick…

No, he told himself. No one would have control over him, no matter how well they played the flute. He’d been under mind control before, and he’d been able to break out of it – there was no way he was going to let this measly human rule his mind with a flute.

But it wasn’t that easy. Fighting against the music was like claws ripping Dick’s chest into shreds, the sheer pain of not just disregarding, but outright challenging, the whispers of the Piper. His senses only screamed at him, telling him nothing of the world outside of himself. Dick lost the feeling of the cool grass beneath his hands, the little rocks and pebbles digging into the calloused flesh of his palms and his bare knees. He didn’t hear the distant cries of seagulls, nor did he see the triumphant look on the Piper’s face as he stood over Dick, at the edge of the cliff.

Breathe, Dick said to himself. As long as he could breathe willingly, he could do anything. Control came back with every inhale and exhale, like winning a game of tug-of-war. He dug his heels into the metaphoric dirt and yanked with all his might. His mind felt like quicksand; Dick could barely tell up from down, let alone left and right.

Colours swirled in his vision, and try as he might, he couldn’t stop himself from shuddering at the sight of the Piper’s colours of red and yellow, which reminded him sickeningly of his former home.

The Piper must’ve thought he had Dick, because he was now turned to the side just a little, eyes on the sea. Dick couldn’t stop his mind from going to Jason and Tim and Steph, and all the village children, who were surely drowning by now. He had no concept of time left – how long had his mind been lost?

Every movement felt like trying to push against gravity, but wasn’t that what Dick had been doing his whole life?

He reached forward and grabbed the Piper by the ankle, and pulled. The Piper let out a startled noise, but he couldn’t stop himself from crashing to the ground in an ungraceful heap. Dick didn’t waste time, even though his body was screaming at him. Something wet was dribbling down the side of his head, almost tickling him.

Dick didn’t give the Piper a chance to get his wind back; he grabbed the pipe that had fallen from the man’s hands, and without a moment’s hesitation, smashed it in half on a rock.

It was like a million voices screaming in his head. Dick dropped the two pieces, hands automatically covering his ears in vain. There was no stopping this noise. They wailed inside his mind, reaching a pitch that Dick hadn’t even thought was possible. It grew and grew, until Dick wasn’t aware of anything but the sound, those terrible noises of anguish.

And then it stopped.

It wasn’t a gradual end – one moment it was there, and the next, there was nothing. Dick’s ears didn’t even ring, like they normally would if this was a real noise, and not some strange feedback from breaking the flute.

When Dick blinked, his eyelashes were wet, and there were tracks of water trailing down his face. He wiped them away unfeelingly, mind numb from the overload. In front of him, the Piper lay in a crumbled form. Dick hadn’t known what the cost of breaking the pipe would be for any of them, but it’d been the quickest – and only – way that he’d known of breaking the spell.

The Piper’s eyes were open, and his chest rose and fell, but his gaze was unseeing and he didn’t react when Dick nudged him. It could all be for show, but Dick doubted that. He didn’t know whose screams he’d heard, and he wasn’t sure he would ever truly have the answers. But deep down, he had his suspicions.

I’m sorry, he wanted to say to the man. He hadn’t known that breaking the pipe would do this to him, if that truly was the cause. But the lives of the entire village’s children had been at stake – were still at stake.

Dick’s fingers worked automatically to tie the Piper, and then he was stumbling back down the cliff, arms and legs clumsy. He lost his grip countless times, and it was only because of a lifetime of practise that he didn’t fall entirely.

Running on sand was difficult on a normal day, but tonight, after everything that had happened, Dick’s limbs felt like lead. He could see faint moving blobs out in the water and near the sand, but it was too dark to tell what was going on.

Fumbling with his belt, Dick pulled out a whistle, and blew it. It was his call, the sound that he made to alert people that he was Robin. The children knew it even more intimately than they knew him.

Those who could raced towards him, all in their nightclothes. Dick bundled together the younger children, and quickly gave instructions to the older ones. His voice sounded to him as though it was coming from a distance, but he couldn’t stop as he ran towards where the rest of the children were.

“Robin!” a voice called out to him. “Robin!”

Dick swam towards it, wading through the black waves. They were lucky it was a calm night, because had the sea been choppy and rough tonight, they would’ve lost everyone.

Here, older children had grabbed onto the younger ones who couldn’t swim as well – or at all. They were huddled together in clumps, wading forward but drooping from the tiredness.

“Here,” Dick said, grabbing two toddlers from a boy who looked to be at most ten years of age. “Keep swimming, but slowly. It is better to be slow than to tire yourself out.”

He passed off the toddlers he’d grabbed onto others, because he needed to keep going, and they needed dry land. Dick spotted Steph with her arms full, Tim at her side. The relief he felt at seeing them alive was a surprise to himself as well.

“Keep swimming,” he told them automatically. “Where is Jason?”

Both Steph and Tim’s eyes were wide and fearful, but Steph’s voice was steady when she said, “Behind us. He has three.”

Dick nodded once, watching them with their four younger charges as they made their way steadily to shore. And then he swam forward to look for Jason. It was impossible to find someone in this darkness, especially if they weren’t making any noise. For all Dick knew, Jason was treading water, trying to regain enough strength to be able to swim to shore.

He blew on his whistle again, and then stopped moving, trying to listen out for any sounds Jason and three other children might make. And then he blew it again, and listened. Still nothing. Dick felt desperation stirring within him as he blew into the whistle a third time, listening with all his might.

And then he heard it. Someone was slapping at the water in a rhythmic tune, to that little jingle that Dick had taught those three children. He made a beeline for it, his arms moving as fast as they could through the water.

Jason floating on his back, both arms full of children who looked as though they were absolutely petrified of water, and holding onto his stomach and using him as a log was another. Jason’s face flooded with relief as he spotted Dick, who moved as fast as he could to take some of the burden off of him.

“You took your time,” Jason said in greeting, and that was when Dick knew he was okay.

By the time they had reached shore, dawn had only just broken. It would’ve been a spectacular sunrise, had Dick not been flagging with exhaustion. He wanted nothing more than to collapse into bed and not rise for at least a day, and the thought of eating was enough to make him salivate.

But he couldn’t leave until all the children were taken away by their parents. There were some on the fringes who kept looking at the sea hopefully, and Dick’s insides ate at themselves with guilt at not being quick enough. He should’ve been stronger. There shouldn’t have been any casualties tonight at all.

Those parents were escorted away by others, weeping into shoulders, and Dick didn’t know where to look. Instead, he looked upon the motley group who sat on a grassy patch, just above the sand, and sighed.

“You don’t have parents,” he said, a question he’d for some reason been holding back ever since he’d met these three. Jason, Tim, and Steph didn’t even have to look at each other, or at Dick. Dick already knew the answer. “Come with me.”

Jason stood, bristling. “We won’t stay at the orphanage,” he said, fists clenched. He spoke with more energy than Dick had thought he had left. “We aren’t a nuisance on the streets – we do not steal or anything of the like, and we keep out of the way at night. In another year, I will be of age, and I will take full legal responsibility of my friends—”

“Jason,” Dick said. His head was much too murky right now to deal with one of Jason’s tirades. “I will not hand you lot over to the orphanage. I want to take you to the castle.”

Tim frowned, stepping a little out from beside Jason. “Why?” he said suspiciously.

“Lord Wayne takes in anyone who is in need of a roof over their head. You will not be expected to do anything you don’t wish to do, and there is no obligation to repay him.”

“Why should we believe you?” Steph asked, even though Jason looked as though he was somewhat convinced.

“Because,” Dick said tiredly, “I am a ward of the castle.”

Three pairs of eyes blinked at him, but it wasn’t as though what Dick had just confirmed wasn’t already common gossip. Too many people had spotted Robin coming and going from the castle to hide that.

“And right now, I wish to be asleep,” Dick continued, “so please, come with me.”

Tim opened his mouth, but Steph yanked him and Jason around. “We need to discuss this,” she said. “Give us a moment.”

Despite how tired he was, drained to the bone, Dick couldn’t help but smile. He walked over to Ace, who was probably the most rested of all of them and was happily being picky over grass. The horse looked up at Dick approaching and let out a low nicker, and Dick rubbed his nose.

He didn’t realise he’d dozed off leaning against Ace’s neck until a hand was shaking his shoulder. Waking with a little jump, he turned around to see Tim peering up at him, a shy smile on his face.

“Sorry,” he said, voice hoarse. “You come to a decision yet?”

Tim nodded, shuffling around a little. “We want to come with you.”

No amount of weariness could stop the smile spreading over Dick’s face at his words.