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Chapter Text

This is a collection of one-shot scenes during the movie Batman: Subzero. So these scenes are the ones in between the ones on camera. ENJOY!

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Advice

Batman sat at the computer, clacking and typing away while listening to the surround sound of bats echoing throughout the cavernous area. He had left the fundraising gala early, much to Veronica Vreeland's disgust: there was more to do on the streets of Gotham, picking up where he left off before he had to change to go to the party in the first place.

Two in the morning wasn't such a ridiculous hour to return to the crime scenes, he figured.

However, as he fervently searched up any latest drug ring locations, he heard footsteps trailing down the long winding stone staircase that led into the abyss.

Bruce knew who it was without turning around.

"I was wondering how long you'd stay out"

"Sorry", Dick offered a halfhearted apology, walking over to a desk nearby as his guardian continued to type. He had taken off his jacket and was now taking off his tie, "Lost track of time, I guess"

This time, Bruce dropped the act and softened, "No need to apologize". He was dressed as Batman, but still had his cowl down, "Did you have a good time?"

"Oh yeah", Dick chuckled to himself as he walked over towards the changing area. Quickly reminded of his plans, though, he paused, "Oh, by the way, Babs and I are going up the coast for the weekend. Jazz festival, beach parties, just stuff like that"

"Sounds nice"

"Yeah, I can't wait!", Dick declared happily from the other area out of shot as he donned his nighttime gear, "It'll be nice to get away, ya know? Just hangin' out, no problems, no stress. Just me and Barbara and fun... I just hope it goes well..."

Batman could pick up on a subtle change in mood halfway through his excitement. Dick was elated at first, but then ended on a worried tone. While he couldn't see the college boy, he could picture the younger man's face dropping and his confidence waning. Bruce turned and saw Dick emerge as Robin. The Boy Wonder was adjusting his cape, his mask still off his face. After he finished mussing up his combed hair, the red and green hero's smile wasn't quite there anymore. He looked anxious. Nervous.

It was at that moment Bruce realized he hadn't given Dick any advice on women, just as he had asked about during the party. Seeing his ward's pensive, silent brow as he fiddled with his mask, not yet on his face yet, Bruce got an idea.

He rose from his seat, smiled to himself, and warmed up to a potential 'father hat' situation.

"You still want that advice you asked for?"

Dick looked up curiously, seeing his guardian's telling smirk. Smiling brighter at the unexpected friendly offer, he nodded, "If you have any"

Batman donned his cowl and chuckled in his throat, nudging his head towards the Batmobile.

"You can decide for yourself if it's worth it. We have time"

After the Chase

Freeze had just taken Barbara... She was gone...

Dick tried to rescue her, but to no avail. Even his craziest stunts and extreme hard work and ridiculous effort was no match for Mr. Freeze and his cold gun, sending him careening off a cliff and slamming into a tree.

Helplessly, he watched as the large van that held his captive girlfriend drove out of sight around the mountain. Slumping to the ground with a hefty painted grunt, he was both frustrated with himself and angry at the villain.

Although he was upset, he soon realized the adrenaline of the chase was wearing off... it made him realize how much his ribs really hurt.

"Ugh... Crap... This isn't good", he mumbled to himself, huffing with pain as he attempted to stand up. He knew he couldn't stay there in the middle of the mountain road, so he had to walk back. He had to tell everyone what he saw.

Not long into his staggered walk, Dick heard sirens in the distance. Looking up, he saw the familiar red and blue glow coming up the mountain. They must have cleared a path and made way for some vehicles to go past the pileup he so easily soared over with the motorcycle... which was now burning at the bottom of the cliff.

Coming closer, the police cars wailed to a stop just meters from Dick who had now propped himself up against the guard railing.

The first officer out of the car noticed his haggard stance, radioing in for "Rescue Team needed, injured citizen on the route. Require ambulance"

Dick grunted as the men and women came closer. None of the police officers he recognized, so when they asked him "What's your name, son?", he wasn't surprised.

However, he did not respond, instead redirecting their focus.

"They went up that way", he pointed shakily towards the rest of the road with extreme urgency, "You gotta go after him! He took Barbara!"

"We'll go after him, son", the one man promised, "But you need to get to a hospital"

Dick scoffed angrily, still gripping his very bruised ribs. He shook his head and growled against their suggestion.

"No! We need to go after him now! Mr. Freeze took her!"

Taking it upon himself to do just that, the young injured man tried to turn and walk back up the mountain to — somehow? — catch up to the runaway van.

"Easy kid, easy, you're not going anywhere", one police woman soothed him, gripping his shoulders to halt his stubborn progress up the mountain. She looked over her shoulder, "Is that ambulance on its way?"

"What's your name, kid?", another one asked again.

Dick Grayson was now furious. Not only did they keep calling him 'kid', but they didn't seem interested in the kidnapping as much as his injuries. But, he knew they wouldn't let him go, so he exhaled heavily and answered them, albeit through gritted teeth.

"Dick. Dick Grayson. But Freeze took–"

"Lie down on the ground"

"Nice and easy"

"Ambulance is on its way"

The black-haired young man wasn't getting anywhere fast. Yet, as the arms lowered him to the ground, his ribs flared up once more, eliciting a seething pained moan from his throat. Dick pinched his eyes shut and laid down, feeling helpless... Yup... definitely bruised ribs. Maybe a fractured one, he wasn't sure. He slammed his fist to the ground in frustration, just as he heard more sirens. More police cars showed up on scene.

This time, he knew one of them.

"Dick? Is that you?"

It was Renee Montoya. The Latina detective knelt down next to him with a supportive hand on his shoulder as the younger boy's face contorted: he was losing his battle at covering up his discomforted aching. Renee lifted her head and barked at the nearest officer.

"Call Bruce Wayne, his guardian. Let him know what happened. And get Gordon on the horn, now!", she directed one of the nearer officers before turning back to the injured man, "Are you alright? What the heck happened?!"

Seeing the woman's face above his own made his urgency flare up again. Dick clutched onto the Detective's sleeve, ignoring the older woman's voice of concern.

"Freeze took Barbara Gordon!"

No Time to Waste

Batman and Robin had just came back from a visit with Gregory Belson's stock broker. The market expert was fast asleep in his bed, but they didn't care. Then, to make matters worse, the two vigilantes found out Belson and Barbara were not on the coast: they were now five miles out to sea on the oil derrick.

"We can prep the Batwing", Batman was half talking to himself and half to Robin. While the oil derrick was out to sea and could require the use of a boat, the Dark Knight reasoned, "Flying will be quicker than traveling by water"

He was gathering his equipment, putting new tools and weapons into his utility belt when he realized he didn't receive any return comment from his ward. Turning over his shoulder, Batman saw Robin staring at the papers they had just mulled over. The black-haired boy was clearly deep in thought, his brow furrowed with a mixture of consternation and worry.

But also, Bruce noted, pain.

Dick was rubbing at his torso mindlessly as his mouth pinched. Batman knew he bruised several ribs when he fell onto the tree branch – the fact it was even there prevented him from tumbling over the cliff, effectively saving his life. Staking out at someone's house was one thing, but going into battle? Facing Freeze and the polar bears again?

"Are you going to be alright?"

Robin blinked with surprise and looked up to his guardian, seeing a hooded gaze with a concerned tilt to his tone. The young man forced a tight smile despite his discomfort and nodded.

"I'm fine"

"If you're not feeling well, you d–"

"I'm helping you rescue Barbara", Robin's voice lowered as he didn't wait for his guardian to finish his suggestion, his softness hardening as he thought of his girlfriend in danger, "And you can't talk me out of it"

Batman stared at Dick, quietly judging to see if he was well enough to travel. Yet, as Robin set down the papers and stormed over towards the Batwing that had gunned up without another word, the father in him couldn't help but worry.

But he knew there was no use... Robin wouldn't stay home, just as he alluded to. He would just have to keep an eye on him in case he felt worse. Batman nodded to himself and followed after his partner into the plane.

After the Rescue:

The battle was won.

Mr. Freeze was stopped.

Gregory Belson was stopped.

Barbara Gordon was safe.

It was quiet inside the Batwing for quite a while. Koonak, the young boy, taken in by Victor Fries after his own parents had died, fell asleep in his rescuer's arms. Nora Fries remained unconscious, oblivious to any outside world.

Which left Robin and Barbara Gordon.

Robin continued to fly, the stress of the ordeal slowly leaking away which allowed his mind and body to relax.

"Where are we going now? Police headquarters?"

Robin was beyond relieved she was okay, more than thrilled to know she was safe. Now, they could go to the police headquarters to drop her off, but he knew there was only one place she should go first...

"We're going to Gotham General. They'll take care of you, Nora, and the boy"

Even though she agreed with the action, Barbara couldn't help but still worry about someone else caught up in this mess. Her face dropped as she gazed out the window, "I hope Dick is okay..."

A knowing smile grew on Robin's face as he commented back, "Oh, I'm sure he's fine"... then quickly he corrected himself, "Umm... I mean.. Who's Dick?"

Barbara sighed with concern, "My boyfriend. We were on a date together when Freeze attacked us and kidnapped me. I think he got hurt, but...", she bit her lip, "I'm just worried about him. Mostly because I'm sure he's worried about me"

Robin wasn't sure how to respond, so he paused for a second. Then, he smiled again, "If he was worth anything to you, he'd be worried sick"

Barbara chuckled, playing bashful, "Oh, he's worth it alright. The best guy I know"

This made Dick smile even wider, his cheeks blushing near to the color of his outfit, "Well... That's good to know"

"I just need to know he's okay", Barbara urged Robin, leaning forward in the seat, despite the young boy sitting in her lap, "Is he hurt? Is he missing like I was? Or has he been out looking for me? Dick can get pretty crazy sometimes, so I wouldn't put it past him to try to find me all on his own"

Robin smiled again and shrugged off her concern with a quick little laugh, playing right into it.

"Don't worry, I'm fine. It was just a tree branch. Could have been worse"

Now this caught Barbara's attention. Opening her eyes wider, she turned her attention towards the back of his head. That was not what she was expecting to hear from the masked hero.

"What?"

Uh oh

Robin realized he stepped in it... Big time. His own eyes shot open and his face reddened as he flailed to cover up his mistake. His huge mistake. He fumbled and gaped, trying to find the words.

"Oo-oh, u-uumm... What I meant was... I mean, he's fine. Ya know.... Cuz he's not... I'm...", he gulped, freezing in his spot, cinching his mouth shut.

He was done. Doomed. Over. Finished.

Barbara, sensing there was more to his flub than met the eye, leaned forward further, trying to reason why Robin would even say that. Staring at the back of his head, she suddenly put two and two together. When she felt like she couldn't hold it in anymore, she cautiously, suspiciously, voiced her discovery.

"...Dick?"

Now at this point, Robin tried to wrack his brain for a way out of it, but realized he couldn't. He was in it. No getting out. No covering up... Crap... So instead of trying to fix things, he grinned crookedly and gave a short awkward chuckling snort.

"Heh heh... H-hey Babs"

The redhead's blue eyes nearly bulged out of her head, her mouth gaping wide open. She couldn't believe it. Her boyfriend... right in front of her... was Robin.

"W-wait... Are you... Are you serious? Dick? You're Robin?"

Grimacing apologetically at her questioning blurt, he shrugged, seeing no way to take things back, and nodded.

"Wow", Barbara leaned back as she tried to cope with her new discovery, "I... I can't believe it... How... Why didn't I..."

"Well, I guess I'm just pretty good at keeping secrets, huh?", Robin pathetically tried to offer, but it didn't sit well with his girlfriend who simply stared back with narrowed eyes.

"Uh huh..."

Dick slumped further, feeling guilty for keeping this bombshell from her. He sighed and deflated, "Look, I'm... I'm sorry, Barbara. I've wanted to tell you, honest, but I just... I just didn't want you to worry, and–"

"You didn't want me to worry?", Barbara blasted back, "Didn't want me to worry?! Of course I'm worried! You're out there night after night kicking bad guy's butts and at any point you could get hurt! Or worse!"

"I know, I know, I just...", Dick bit his lip at her accusatory tone, "I'm sorry... You have every right to be mad at me"

Barbara was beet red. She was upset with him, knowing he kept this a secret for so long... And yet, despite feeling frustrated and bitter towards her boyfriend at his secrecy, she stopped herself and frowned... Because, deep down, knowing that she herself was also keeping a secret of her own of the nighttime vigilante variety, she knew she couldn't keep the anger going. Instead, the heat in her heart cooled down and sunk into her own regretful embarrassment.

Hypocrisy at her finest, she acknowledged.

"No... I don't...", she exhaled heavily.

"Huh?", Robin was confused at her change in pace, her anger dissipating.

Barbara looked up at the back of his head and grimaced awkwardly, "I can't get mad at you, Dick... Even if I wanted to be, I couldn't..."

"Why not? I-I didn't tell you", Dick tried to reason, gesturing to his outrageous outfit, "I kept this a secret from you"

This time, Barbara felt ashamed. She pursed her lips and shied away, feeling every bit the irony of the situation. Clearing her throat, she attempted to lighten the situation.

"Weeelllll... Let's just say... You and Batman aren't the only ones with a secret identity"

Robin was thoroughly puzzled now, narrowing his eyes curiously as he continued to fly the jet. His face twisted as he tried to figure out what the heck she was talking about, but just as he opened his mouth to ask for more clarification, it struck him. He spun around as much as he could with an unconscious woman on his lap. His girlfriend's blue eyes stared back at him, her flush of embarrassment across her face. When she bruxed her teeth apologetically, it hit him.

"Wait", his own eyes shot open even further, eyebrows near the back of his head, "You're... You can't be serious?!"

Barbara chuckled nervously, shrugging as he guessed it, "Yeeeaaahh..."

Robin couldn't believe it. He gaped at her, truthfully beside himself. His girlfriend was Batgirl. Batgirl!

Rotating back to the windshield and his destination ahead of him, the black-haired hero stared blankly, blinking slightly as he tried to catch up with what was going on.

However, rather than questioning and berating her for keeping her own secret, he just laughed. Laughed and laughed. Soon after, Barbara joined in. Koonak, the little boy from the arctic area was confused, staring back and forth between the two cackling strangers. Apparently he had woken up without either of the heroes noticing.

"Gee lady, he's just as crazy as you are"

"Wow", Robin wiped a tear and calmed himself down, "I... I can't believe I never figured it out. I had no idea!"

"That's the whole point", Barbara snarked back as she settled her own laughter.

Dick exhaled with a humorous shake of his head at the irony, finding their situation both touchy and hilarious at the same time. The plane approached the shore as he guided it along towards the hospital.

"I guess we have a lot to talk about now"

Barbara didn't answer, she just giggled and agreed.

When the Batplane finally landed on top of the medical building's roof – first with Batman dismounting from his long hold of the grapple –, Robin opened the canopy.

"I got her", Batman was right there without announcing himself, appearing overhead to carefully take Nora Fries from his ward's grip. Robin struggled with lifting her up with his aggravated ribs, but managed nonetheless.

Soon after, the Dynamic Duo, Barbara Gordon, Koonak, and the wife of the frozen villain were on the helicopter pad being greeted by hospital staff who were radioed in ahead of time by the Boy Wonder.

"Get her on the stretcher"

"Take her inside"

"Hook her up immediately!"

Swiftly, the unconscious woman was taken away. Just as she passed on the gurney through the doors leading to the elevators, Jim Gordon busted through to the rooftop. When he saw his daughter, he gasped and lunged.

"Barbara! Oh my God, thank Heavens you're safe!"

"Dad!", she reached out for his hug, accepting his squeezing embrace.

"Oh sweetheart, I'm so glad you're back", Jim was nearly crying as he held his daughter tight, "You have no idea how worried I was"

Barbara chuckled and patted her dad on his back, "Oh, I think I can guess"

When Jim leaned back, he cleared his throat and collected himself to a more professional demeanor, then turned up to the Dark Knight and his partner. His eyes still twinkled with relief.

"Thank you, Batman. Thank you, Robin. Thank you for rescuing her"

Batman nodded, "You're welcome"

"Always there to help", Robin commented softly, his arms at his side.

Within seconds, the doctors surrounded Barbara and Koonak for questioning, ushering them towards the doorway for more observation. Robin and Batman stood back, relieved the wild event with Freeze was finally over.

However, just before they could turn around to leave, Barbara had other plans than to go into the hospital. A coy smile curled on her lips as the idea sunk into her head. Then, without warning, the redhead spun around and released her grip from her father's hand. In three quick strides in the opposite direction, she grabbed Dick's cheeks...

... and pressed her lips firmly against his.

Robin's eyes widened at her show of affection, but relished the contact. His eyes soon closed and he melted into her kiss. His hands flew out to his sides, his brain not knowing what to do about them.

Jim Gordon and Batman also reacted to the public display, but not the way the boy did. Gordon blinked and shuddered in shock, aghast at what his daughter was doing. Batman simply smirked at the two lovebirds and averted his own gaze to give them some semblance of privacy, regardless of the medical and law enforcement personnel gawking onward.

When Barbara released her lip lock on Robin, she backed away from his stupefied expression with a proud yet mannerly smile. She straightened herself up, whispered softly into his ear...

"That's for what we didn't toast to"

...and then patted his chest before returning back to the doctor's who were awaiting her for observation. Just like that.

Robin, though, took a few seconds to pry his eyes open from his dreamworld back to reality. He blinked himself awake and stood there gaping. Slowly, his eyes focused on what was in front of him as the blood rushed back into his brain and his breathing resumed. A smug sappy smirk crossed Dick's face, widening to his ears as he stared after his adoring girlfriend being led into the elevator hallway. It truly was the toast they never finished...

Jim Gordon, though, wasn't quite pleased.

More embarrassed than anything, really.

"W-well, u-uum... Ahem...", he cleared his throat and tried to push his blushing awkwardness into his gut. He shifted on his feet, scratched at his neck, and puffed out a finality that he hoped would end it all, "Okay then...", and beelined it for the doorway after his daughter and the doctors. The closed door echoed behind him.

When everyone had left, Batman and Robin were left alone on the rooftop, standing side by side in the night. The Dark Knight looked down and noticed his ward's ditzy, enamored gaze after the girl who had since disappeared into the building, the girl who had smooched him unashamedly in front of everyone. He noticed Robin was smitten, ridiculously gaga over the redhead. The boy even wavered slightly, unsteady after his romantic ordeal that lasted not even half a minute.

After a few seconds of studying his ward's goofy posture and sloppy grin, Batman chuckled and teased.

"Come on, Romeo, let's go home"

Robin wobbled with love and spun around to follow his guardian towards the plane, his dopey grin still cracking his face. Then, a small yet uncontrollable giggle of amusement rose from his throat as he shrugged, not even bothering to say anything to the contrary.

When the two of them made their way back into the Batwing to return home, Robin's voice spoke up from the back, exhibiting more humble yet confident bravado than before.

"Ya know, I don't think I need that advice after all"

Batman piloting this time, smirked over his shoulder to his lovesick ward in the back after he started up the engine.

"Oh really?"

The only response Batman earned in return was a quiet chuckle. He saw the boy swing his arms over his head, a very brazen and relaxed posture as he happily gazed out the window. Truthfully, Bruce found it hysterical. Instead of laughing out loud, he simply played it off and asked another question, a crooked smile still across his face.

"So... How does Dick Grayson feel about his girlfriend kissing a masked vigilante?"

Dick snorted, then gave a wistful yet sly sigh of contentment and anonymity, "Oooh, I think he'd be okay with it... all things considered"

Batman raised an eyebrow at the oddly calm comment, curious as to what he meant.

A sneaky smirk grew on Robin's face, like he was harboring a juicy secret when he saw his partner's questioning gaze.

"I'll tell ya all about it when we get home..."

Chapter Text

"Hey... Batman... How much longer do you think it'll take him to show up?"

"......."

"Sooooo... Maybe five minutes? Ten? Twenty?"

"......."

"Ooooh, that long, huh? Man... Kay, well, ya wanna cup of coffee since we'll be here for another hour? I can go swing by the local midnight bean guy and snag a brew or two"

"......"

"Hmm... Yup... Dark roast, extra espresso, I agree. Oh, and maybe this time I can get a pay raise in my allowance? Saaaay, a couple thousand?"

".... you don't have an allowance"

"Holy GASP, Batman! You do talk!"

It was your typical night of atypical activity and conversation between the masked vigilantes. The Dark Knight and Boy Wonder were currently in the middle of a stakeout, enjoying some lively one-sided banter back and forth, as contradictory as that sounds. 

Truth was, word on the street was that the Scarecrow was back in town after a breakout from Arkham Asylum last month... and this warehouse was the prime location for the prince of terrors.

Suddenly, just as Batman finished rolling his eyes at his ward's sarcasm, he spotted something off into the corner. Around the alleyway nearby.

The Dark Knight spoke gruffly as he glared down, the seriousness of the situation returning. He stood and replaced his binoculars against his belt.

"Better hold off on the coffee. We're up"

"It's about time", Robin snarked back, standing up to crack his back from his lengthy crouched position.

Batman directed Robin to go in one direction while he would take the other, silently communicating his order. Robin nodded and took off opposite him.

Grappling around and down, they both slunk stealthily to either side of the abandoned building, to which Robin couldn't help but comment in his own thoughts, 'abandoned warehouse... clever...'

Sure enough, there he was. The Scarecrow.

Robin whispered into his comm, "I see him... He's over here, closer to the west side boiler room"

The black caped hero nodded to himself, climbing further up to the roof, "We'll take him from above. Wait for my signal"

"In all seriousness", the 16-year-old hero commented dryly as he crept along, "I really do hope this doesn't take long... I have an English paper I gotta finish before tomorrow afternoon..."

Sensing Batman's unamused silence, he added quickly.

"Hey, I just found out about it two days ago!"

The older man sighed through his communication microphone, shaking his head, not answering...

... which prompted a sly and guilty confession from Dick, "... okay maybe two weeks ago..."

But before Batman could remind him to focus up, Scarecrow's scrawny voice rose from below as he ordered his minions.

"Keep a look out you morons! This new shipment cannot be messed up. It must go precisely as planned! Any foul ups and it's your life!"

Batman smirked, whispering to Robin in his microphone, "That's our cue"

Immediately, they both dropped in. 

Robin laughed as he stood, arms out in a playful gesture, "Any foul ups, huh? Well, hate to break it to ya dude, buuuuut..."

If not for the solemn gravity of the situation, Batman might have found it humorous... might have. 

Scarecrow rolled his eyes with a hefty growl of frustration, wringing his hands, "Blast it! I should have known... I'm not back in town five minutes and you two are breathing down my neck", he then pointed towards the two heroes and barked to his accomplices, "What are you waiting for?!"

Gunfire sounded.

Immediately, Batman and Robin sprung into action. They swung batarangs at the group of six men, only three of them hitting their targets and knocking the weapons from their gloved hands. Scarecrow swore and growled.

"Goddammit, can't I just do my business without you two pestering me all the time?!"

Robin smirked again with a nasty chuckle, "NOPE!", and punched a nearby criminal, knocking his lights out.

"It's over, Crane", Batman growled as he finished throwing out the last people on his side, ignoring that Robin was still busy with two more that had found their strength. The Dark Knight ran over to the scrawny straw-man and lifted him from his lapels high into the air, "Let's put you away for good now. No more escapes"

"On the contrary, Batman... I think it's time you take a little escape of your own... from your own mind!"

The Professor of Fear pressed a button on his wrist while being held. A plume of smoke rose out from Scarecrow's sleeve, right near the Dark Knight's face. Batman breathed it in, his mouth mere centimeters from the cloud. Coughing, he dropped the villain.

Scarecrow collected himself with a gleeful chortle and sprinted away with two other men that rose from their knocked out stupor. Out the door, they were gone.

Robin finished tossing the last criminal nearer to him, but saw his partner kneeling, coughing on the ground. Lighting up with concern, he raced over just as the small cloud of dust dissipated. He touched his shoulder.

"Batman! You okay?"

The Dark Knight nodded, catching his breath. He stood upright and shook his head clear from the fogginess. Straightening, he didn't even bother to look at his partner, "I'm fine... Let's go"

Batman took off in the direction of the Scarecrow and his couple minions, leaving behind the red and green hero. Even though he was concerned, Robin shrugged and followed him.

As they exit the building, they both spot a car's lights shining brightly towards the east... a car that was increasingly racing towards them.

Batman and Robin dove out of the way, just in the nick of time.

It was Scarecrow's car.

Finally reaching the Batmobile, the Dynamic Duo hopped in and raced after, driving through the streets. Robin looked over at the driver as they took another sharp turn. Batman's teeth ground together, a look of pure anger upon his face. While it wasn't out of the ordinary for the hero to become obsessed over catching a villain, this seemed... different... Robin became even more worriedly puzzled.

"Hey, are you sure you're alright? You got a good whiff of whatever came out of his hand"

Batman grunted and gripped the steering wheel tighter, "I'm fine", and kept driving, swerving, dodging everything on the road at a dangerous rate of acceleration.

Robin sensed that something was way off as his partner became increasingly daring and more haphazard with his driving. One more close call with a light post made him call out and grip the dash.

"Whoa! Hey, careful! You almost hit that li—", he lurched again and slammed against the window, "and that!"

Batman screeched to a halt without warning, sending his protege nearly into the front of vehicle with a jolting yelp of protest he ignored. Instead of acknowledging Robin's complaints, he jumped out of the car once the canopy was opened and alarmingly looked around. Glancing around frantically, sweat beading down his forehead, he struggled to focus on his surroundings but also felt a weird sense of hyper-realism overtake him, like the world blurred and sharpened all at once. Colors morphed, sounds echoed, the road came alive and moved. Batman shook his head and felt his breath coming faster, his lungs burning and his brain on fire... but he did not pay attention to any of it. Instead, he raised his arm and waved for his partner.

"Come on! They went that way!"

Robin looked around, completely confused. Nothing was there... No one was there... It was completely silent. Void of life.

"What? They did? I didn't see any–"

But Batman grappled off into the air to the top of the building before he could get his next words out. Robin stared at him, growing more confused and alarmed by the minute. He sighed with resignation and followed him up, hoping to get to the bottom of whatever was going on.

When Batman landed, he saw them... All of them...

"WHOA! Holy crap, where did these guys come from?", Robin responded startled when he landed next to him.

Sure enough, they were surrounded by at least thirty men, all waiting with various forms of weaponry from guns to knives to chains to bombs to anything they could use against the heroes.

The Dark Knight didn't respond to his ward, however, other than a couple grunts as he pummeled one of the criminals who had chosen to come near to him.

A bad choice...

Fists jabbed, feet kicked, bodies flew. It was utter chaos in the most extraordinary way. Batman gripped and slung three men at once towards a vent system, knocking them unconscious. Robin barreled into a few more with flips and twists the natural way his acrobatic body moved.

As the crowd thinned out, a few stragglers decided to race across the rooftop, even jumping and leaping as wide as the building themselves, landing on the roofs nearby.

Batman and Robin fired off their grapples and took off to the next building, not even bothering to register the fact that human beings were leaping twenty feet across.

Yet, when they landed, there was no one around. The thieves and low-lives were gone.

Silence

"Huh... Where did they go?", Robin spun around in search of anyone to punch.

"I don't know", even Batman was confused, also looking around their vicinity. It was as if they vanished into thin air.

"Did you see the outfits on those guys? They didn't look like they belonged to the Scarecrow. They looked... different"

Batman shook his head, walking closer to his partner who stood by with his hands on his hips. His narrowed, fixated and obsessed eyes searched around the area as he moved back and forth in front of his partner, who could only stare at him.

"What if the Joker has some henchmen out on his behalf?", the calmer red and green hero continued to try to reason, "Maybe it's someone doing his job for him. Or he's teaming up with the Scarecrow?"

"I doubt it", the Dark Knight countered, putting his grapple back into his belt. He stared up to the sky and went on, his lungs and brain working on overtime as the colors swirled around him, the sky lighting up brilliantly with both darker and bolder hues, "They're all with the Scarecrow. All of them"

"Who?", Robin raised an eyebrow and glanced around the empty space, "There's no one here. They're all gone. All those guys just–"

Before the Boy Wonder could go on, the duo was ambushed once again. In fact, with more men than before. They were all wearing brown suits, throwing Robin off again as he continued to guess who was after them... Penguin? Two-Face? Clayface?

"Whoa! What the--"

Batman ignored his comments, instead directing all his attention to the broken bones and busted spleen he was delivering each and every criminal that attacked. He was on the brink of losing it, but his body coursed with adrenaline so much so that his ears fogged up. All he could hear was the sounds of the bodies flying and smashing against the walls.

As someone came near to him, Robin smiled and flipped backwards, sending his feet into the jaws of two men at once, twirling and crashing his knees into the two behind him before complete a full handspring forward to knock the fifth guy into oblivion.

Yet, just as they came, they all went... All forty men were down and out...

"Well, that was surprisingly easy", the Boy Wonder clasped his hands to remove metaphorical dust. He placed his hands on his hips and smiled towards his mentor, "What do you think?"

Batman was silent... He didn't say a word. He just looked over at his grinning partner as he stood near the edge of the building. He noticed Robin blurring in and out of focus, but couldn't put his finger on why. Couldn't reason through the supposed abnormal visions before him.

Why was the sky colorful? It was nighttime, nearing midnight, but the atmosphere above was filled with illustrious tones and shades, all morphing and shifting. Even his auditory senses were off... Why could he hear sounds that weren't nearby? Kids playing, cars honking, ducks squawking... even the building facade itself fuzzed in and out as if the cement and brick was alive. 

None of it made sense.

But, before he could comment on his confusion of the night, a sound echoed through the area that sent chills down Batman's spine.

A gunshot.

Robin's eyes widened just as the crack ricocheted in the night. His smile dropped from his face, replaced with an open-mouthed inaudible protest.

Robin was shot.

Life turned to slow motion...

Batman's white slits of his eyes enlarged at the sight of his ward's body bleeding from the bullet hole...

...and the second one...

...the third one...

Where did the gunshots come from? Who fired them? Who was there?!

"NOOOOOOOOO!!", the Dark Knight found his cracking voice as he screeched painfully at the younger man, reaching his hand forward slowly as if he could stop the onslaught just by doing so.

Robin stumbled and staggered, awkwardly clutching at his wounds as he blinked rapidly, his mouth moving silently like he just either couldn't believe what was happening, couldn't catch his breath, or both...

Both

"DIIIIIIICK!!", Batman found himself screaming again, sprinting at a snail's pace towards his ward, unable to get past a crawl. The world blurred around him as all he could do was focus on the young man who was getting closer and closer to the edge of the building.

Just as he finished bellowing out towards the injured boy, Robin's eyes widened even further with his one misstep, sending his body backwards... careening over the edge of the high rise.

Robin fell.

Batman's voice nearly broke, but it wouldn't do any good.

Finally reaching the edge of the building, Batman gripped the edge of the cement and peered over, fear and agony taking over at the vision of the red and green hero's broken body at the bottom...

Bruce Wayne's body was numb. Cold and numb.

God, no.... This isn't real... this isn't real... this CAN'T be real...

Somehow he found the energy and awareness to scale down the building, touching his feet roughly onto the cement. Clumsily pitching and stumbling closer to Robin's body, he fell harshly to his knees, breathing erratically with surprise and disbelief. Shakily, Batman reached out and grasped the boy's shoulders, his hands trembling just as much as his whole body, mind, and soul.

"Di...", he gulped, forcing his mouth to work against the utter shock and despair he was experiencing, "Dick... Please..."

No response... and no pulse.

Robin was dead.

The Dark Knight carefully lifted his limp ward... his son... into his arms, pulling him closer. The pale, stoic, frozen brow of the youthful masked face stuck in a peaceful trance, showing no emotion and no expression, contrasting the older man's complete brokenness as his own face crumbled into itself... his mouth wavering and trembling, sniffles and snorts breaking his dark demeanor.

"Dick... No...", Bruce whimpered, hugging the younger man to his chest, tears falling down his reddened cheeks onto the black hair of his son.

Inhaling deeply, the enraged and heartbroken father figure reeled his head back against the now black and white sky and bellowed into the musty, dank air that smelled of burning rubber and acid, his agony and pain echoing terrifyingly throughout the city... 

Chapter Text

It had been five days since the funeral.

Bruce had to tell everyone that Dick Grayson was the unfortunate target of a disastrous and fatal attack of an alleyway mugging in the heart of Gotham City on the way home from class to cover the tracks.

He felt sick to his stomach he had to even do that. As if a young man's life ended so simply. So quickly. Without justice, without honor. Ended by some punk in the streets.

If only they knew the real story...

Deep down in the dark cave, Bruce Wayne sat hunched over at the massive computer, his head in his hands. It had been days since he talked to anyone, even Alfred.... He had Alfred shove and shoo away the reporter and media because they kept hounding him, day after day, to get a glimpse of the grieving billionaire.

He didn't want to talk to anyone... all he could think about was Dick. The sounds of the gunfire that came from nowhere. The shouts of pain when each bullet his the boy's chest. The way he tumbled backwards... his broken body. A fate similar to that of both his own parents and Dick's parents, he observed ironically.

"Master Bruce", Alfred softly called out to him, stirring him from his fog as he visualized the final night, "Commissioner Gordon is on the phone for you upstairs"

Bruce didn't answer.

Alfred knew his charge was beyond sad... so was he. In fact, sad wasn't even the right word. Depressed. Wretched. Utterly miserable. His word had ended in the blink of an eye. Even to himself, Dick was like a grandson whom he loved dearly. Although, despite his own broken heart tearing him to pieces, he did his best to carry on. He cleared his throat and tried to maintain poise as he called out again, but his voice cracked ever so slightly.

"Bruce..."

"I failed him, Alfred...", the still man choked out, "I failed him..."

"Sir, you–"

"NO!", Bruce shouted painfully, pounding his fists on the console, nearly smashing the metal plates, "Dick is dead and it's my fault! I'm to blame!", he rose quickly and wildly threw the nearest equipment, sending it crashing and echoing throughout the cave, "I"m the one that brought him into this life, I'm the one that gave him the suit, I'm the one who took him out night after night for the past seven years, throwing him into danger. I. AM. to BLAME!"

He ground his fingers into his palms, pressing them so tightly with internal rage his knuckles began to turn white. Bruce felt a stinging behind his eyes that nearly bore tears... He was surprised he had any left.

"Bruce, listen to me", Alfred tried to reason with him, his own emotions threatening to break him, "You are not to blame. Master Richard...", he paused to swallow the painful lump in his throat, "Dick knew the risks"

"Did he? Did he really?", Bruce scoffed back nastily, throwing shade as he stood up to face the man he called a father for so many years, "He only knew the risks I allowed him to take. He was a child when I took him in, Alfred. A CHILD!"

"You cannot blame yourself for what happened... It is not your fault"

Bruce turned and stormed away, in silence... He wouldn't listen. Standing by the medical bay, staring at the bed that the poor boy lay on while they figured out how to fit the narrative for Dick Grayson rather than Robin, he remained stoic. Silent.

"What makes it even worse", he croaked quietly after a few more moments, his voice losing its power, "is that I have no idea who even did it...", he turned around, tears rolling down his cheeks, "I don't even know who fired that gun. I don't... I don't know...", he broke down, covering his face with his hands. Falling to the ground on his knees, Bruce wept for his loss.

Alfred saw no way to console the man he himself called a son, knew no other words would work. All he could do was offer a supporting hand. He walked over and knelt down next to the broken man, encasing Bruce into a half-hug as the larger frame shook with sobs ... He knew it would take time before he would get anywhere with him. Perhaps even longer than it took after Thomas and Martha Wayne were murdered.

Bruce lost his parents... now he lost his son.

After the next few days of delirious melancholy, Bruce found himself strolling through his home office. Just as he stopped near his desk, ready to sit down, he looked out at the skyline of the city. And once again he saw the Bat signal in the sky.

He glared at it.

Apparently word on the street was that Robin AND Batman had met their ends, that they both had died. Bruce hung his head, 'it was only half true...'

Even Commissioner Gordon provided an interview on the news to the desperate media who craved information the other day asking if anyone had seen the missing Dynamic Duo. Unfortunately, Gordon could provide no solid guess as to when, or if, either of them would return to the streets. According to their statistics, the reports were showing that crime was rising. Since Batman and Robin had disappeared, the criminals were running rampant without any checks or balances. Burglaries, muggings, even murders were going unchecked and unmatched, unable to be stopped by the GCPD.

Even worse than that: major criminals and villains were escaping Arkham...

Alfred interrupted his slump with a knock at the door. The old, weathered man cleared his throat and whispered emotionally, "Sir... I hate to bother you, but... I'm afraid I have some bad news..."

Bruce closed his eyes, his shaky palm on the window pane. What more bad news could he possibly take? Alfred went on...

"The Scarecrow has been spotted"

Mr. Wayne opened his steely blues and lifted his head. The Batsignal was still glowing in the foggy sky. His heart hardened and a surge of anger flooded his veins at his butler's announcement.

Finally

Each time Batman went out, he strove for justice. Vengeance. But now? True, unfiltered, raw rage-filled revenge was the first emotion that filled his darkened heart for the longest time that didn't want to make him cry.

Turning around in a quick whirl, the billionaire's demeanor morphed from depressed to fury. Storming past Alfred without a word, he knew what he had to do.

The next reality Bruce was aware of was that he was in his Batmobile speeding through the back roads of Gotham. Images of Dick's bloody and broken body flooded his memories, echoed by the Scarecrow's insane laughter. It was his fault Dick was dead. Had to be his fault. Jonathan Crane was the one they were chasing. He was the one they were after that night... and now he would pay.

Batman found himself suddenly in front of the Scarecrow. How he even arrived there, he wasn't positive, but time traveling wasn't off the table in this new dystopian world he lived in after losing his ward... his son...

"Batman", Scarecrow greeted him rather snarkily, his sniveling sinister grin growing higher, "I notice you are by yourself tonight... Any reason why?"

Before he knew what was happening, the Caped Crusader's fist slammed into the villain's face. Over and over again. He couldn't help himself. He was in a trance. A darkened blurry haze of anger and exasperation and desperation grew over him and loathe and spite controlled his every movement.

Bones broke under his fists of fury. Blood splattered, limbs went wild. Batman couldn't control himself if he tried...

The thing was, he wasn't trying.

His promise he made not to kill drove further from his mind with each punch.

The sounds of gurgling and gasping mixed with snapping and cracking as his disillusioned and transfixed world faded into black... 

Chapter Text

"AAAAHHHHH!!!"

Bruce Wayne heaved and panted, jolting upright with feverish panic. He gasped and gulped in air, struggling to control his irregular breathing. Clutching at his heart with one hand and his sweaty head with the other, he frantically searched around for any signs of the Scarecrow's bloody corpse.

There was nothing.

In fact, he wasn't even outside at all.

Bruce was back in bed.

"What in the...", he choked out, glancing around the room, confused at his whereabouts that weren't outside. Checking his knuckles, they weren't bloody. Looking at his outfit, he was in a shirt and pajama bottoms.

He blinked again and shook his head.

"This can't be... What's...", he swallowed a heavy lump in his throat, "How did I get back here?"

The groggy and delirious billionaire had difficulty forming a thought, let alone words. However, after a few moments of trying to recollect himself with soft, deep breaths, he allowed himself to make a realization.

"It... It had to have been a dream", he muttered, swinging his blankets off his legs as he shakily shifted to the edge of the bed, his feet touching the floor, "Just a dream... No, a nightmare..."

Although, once he came to the conclusion that he did not kill the Scarecrow in cold-blooded murder, the memories of someone else who did die came back with a vengeance. Closing his eyes shut, he knew he was still raw from Dick's death. It hurt even more now...

He sat there for quite a while, allowing his harsh reality to sink it... Yet, Bruce remembered Alfred's words just the other day; he couldn't sit around like he did last time. He had to get up.

Before he moved, though, his ears picked up on some noises from out the door and down the hall, most likely the kitchen. Lifting his head, he knew it was Alfred.

Bruce knew he couldn't hide for long, even if he wanted to... Slowly, like a terribly rusted machine, he stood from his bed and trudged towards the door, one step at a time.

With each step, he relived the terrifying moments in his mind... Dick getting shot... Dick falling... Dick's dead eyes... Scarecrow's pleas for him to stop... Scarecrow's lifeless body... His own bloody knuckles...

Granted, he reasoned the Scarecrow must have been a nightmare, but it felt so unbelievably real that he had a hard time shaking it from his mind, even tricking himself to convince himself it wasn't real... to the point where he half thought maybe it was??

No... it was a nightmare... It didn't happen...

But when Bruce finally made it downstairs, his face downcast and his movements melancholy just as they had been the past week or so, he saw a sight that made him stand upright and bewildered.

Alfred was singing to himself in the kitchen.

Bruce frowned, thinking it was very odd Alfred was so happy, especially in these times.

"Alfred?"

The elderly man spun around with a beaming smile that caught him off guard. With a chipper tone, the butler greeted him.

"Ahhh, Master Bruce! I was just questioning to myself when you would rise from your slumber. You've missed breakfast, brunch, and lunch, young man; this hour is way too late to stay in bed"

Bruce was flabbergasted. Alfred was walking around like nothing happened, like Dick didn't just die. Like he didn't just kill a major Gotham villain. Did he? Didn't he? Was it real? Was it a dream? What happened?

"Alfred?", he asked again, the incredulity of the situation boggling him, "What in the... Why are you so–"

"Oh, by the way sir, Miss Vreeland called for you", his jovial voice interrupted as he rinsed off one more dish, "She wanted to remind you of your date for the performance tonight. The ring leader announces the show promptly at seven o'clock"

Bruce had no idea what was going on. Alfred was happy, Veronica was calling him, but Dick was still dead. He shook off his cobwebs and took a few timid steps forward.

"Huh? What show? Alfred, I'm not going anywhere tonight, especially with Ronnie. After everything that just happened, I'm still not ready to–"

...then he paused, frowning with confusion. Two words caught his attention that made him freeze. He looked up to Alfred suspiciously, furrowing his brows.

"Ring leader? What do you mean? What are you talking about?"

Alfred chuckled and set another plate on the counter, "The circus, Master Bruce, are you daft? You purchased tickets weeks ago for the performance"

Bruce Wayne blanked, "The... the circus?"

This didn't make any sense... Why on Earth, after Dick passing, would he go on a date with Veronica Vreeland at a circus of all places?! This was absolutely bizarre! Did he suggest it? Certainly not! Must have been her, he tried to reason...

Glaring at the frozen and stupefied man, Alfred narrowed his eyes very judgmentally.

"Yes, Bruce, the circus... I swear, the later you sleep in, the more you lose your marbles", he cleared his throat and resumed cleaning, "As I said, sir, it starts promptly at seven o'clock", then he pulled out the papers, "Here are your tickets, lest you lose them like you lose everything around here"

Bruce took them, studied them, and gasped. They were tickets for Haly's circus! But what really made his blood freeze was the image on the cover: the Flying Graysons!

Mary, John, a younger child... and Dick. As a teenager!

"WHAT!? What is this?!", Bruce shouted, his eyes bugging out of his skull as the tickets gripped tighter in his fingers as he stared flabbergasted at the dark-haired grinning boy, "Dick?!"

"Master Bruce, your language! Now, Miss Vreeland assured you she would prefer to drive, but I have preempted your unpredictability to be a gentleman and fueled up the 2009 Porsche. It is just–"

"This... This is impossible! Dick is dead, Alfred!! He's dead!", Bruce shouted, shaking as he looked at the ticket in his hands. He had ignored everything Alfred was talking about, instead trying to make sense of why he was looking at a piece of paper that had Dick's teenage face all over it.

None of it made sense. Not one bit. Not only was Dick deceased, but he left Haly's Circus at nine years old. Why was his picture on this ticket? Why were his parents still alive?

"Ahh, you are referring to a person. Again, Master Bruce, I have positively no idea to whom you speak of. Is he a business partner? Short for Richard, I assume..."

Bruce was appalled and disgusted and so confused. He looked at Alfred with a baffled gape, "Alfred? Wha– H-How could you... How don't you...", he paused, looked at the tickets once more, up to Alfred who now had a terribly concerned frown on his face, then turned and sprinted towards the garage.

He knew it was a nightmare. It had to be. There's no way this was real life. Bruce had to figure out what was going on. Alfred's shouts were ignored.

"Sir, where are you going? Miss Vreeland will be here any minute to escort you to the show!"

Minutes later, Bruce was in a car speeding off towards the town, the vehicle racing just as fast as his mind as he tried to rationalize the current events. Before he knew it, he had reached the circus grounds. Jumping out of his car, he began searching ferociously around the area to see if he could see something that made sense.

As if he time traveled again, Bruce found himself inside the Big Top, where the main acts took place. Looking upward, he froze.

There he was.

Dick Grayson. Alive and well. Swinging on the trapeze like a natural.

"It... It can't be!", the stunned billionaire whispered to himself, his eyes nearly bugging out of his head, "This can't be real..."

The boy was also older, Bruce noted, as he gaped and gasped. Not the kid he used to be. Not the kid he took in when his parents fell from their swings. Dick was as old as when he last saw him, in fact. As old as... that night...

Admittedly, seeing the young acrobat in his trapeze outfit as a teenager hit him hard. Bruce gulped and watched as he twirled and swung effortlessly, like he were one with the air, floating graciously from swing to swing. It was amazing, really, watching him perform, like a true professional.

And true to form, was the beaming smile across his face.

Eventually, Dick had finished. Waiting for him to climb down, Bruce gathered his strength, shook his head awake, and quickly bolted towards the boy that just leaped happily from the final two rungs of the ladder. When Bruce reached him, he clutched at his shoulders, shaking Dick from his joyful jaunt.

"Dick!"

"Whoa! Hey!", the boy began nervously as his attention steered away from wherever he was heading. Finding himself in a new situation with a rather large adult grabbing your arms, a panicked and alarmed look in his eyes was enough to startle someone, "Uuumm... Can I help you?"

All Bruce could do was stare. His mouth was agape, his eyes wide with bewilderment and pain, hurtful mourning. Dick was confused, but didn't want to offend the man. Clearing his throat, he looked around for help before turning his blues back to the older man to offer a small timid smile.

"Uummm..."

"Dick...", Bruce breathed, blinking furiously and gawking at the younger man, his fingers gripping his shoulders tighter, "It's... it's you!"

"Yyyyup", the kid gave a puzzled chuckle and tried to play it cool, "It's... It's me", then he furrowed his brow, still very concerned by the older man's behavior, "And you aaaare...?"

Bruce couldn't speak... He was too dizzy. Dick was dead. But, Dick was alive. Here, alive. It didn't make any sense! And even more, he didn't know him! Dick Grayson, standing before him, did not know who Bruce Wayne was...

A new voice spoke up and interrupted the duo.

"Oh, you must be Bruce Wayne"

The billionaire turned his head and took in the sight of John Grayson. The same handsome, athletic John Grayson he himself watched fall to his death all those years ago.

Once again, Bruce was speechless.

The acrobat came over for a firm handshake, holding out his hand with a brilliant smile that mirrored the young man's, making Bruce know exactly where he got his smile from. The air about him screamed respectful, kind, and powerful. It was as if he were everything Bruce had hoped to be as a father. Blankly, he took the other man's hand without thinking and shook, his other one still on the younger man's shoulder.

"We're so happy to hear you're coming to our show tonight. It's nice to see you here to early"

"Absolutely", Mary Grayson, as elegant and graceful and petite as her son, walked over next to her husband and smiled, her sweet tone carried through the yard, indicating she was an extremely caring person, "We've told Dicky and David you were coming and we're all so excited"

"Ahh, gotcha!", Dick laughed again, recognition hitting him as he turned his eyes up to the man who still had a hand on his shoulder, "That Bruce Wayne!"

Bruce couldn't believe it. Dick didn't know him. He dropped his remaining hand and backed away, staring at the three of them, sorely confused. Dick frowned, somewhat puzzled, as did the others. Even little David came over, who Bruce noted was of the same appearance and age as Dick was when his parents died... maybe? It was so surreal... Dick had a brother? Would he have had a brother if things were different?!

"I'm... I'm", Bruce sputtered, struggling to make sense of it all. Dick came forward and placed a supporting hand on his shoulder to comfort him as if he'd done it a million times. He had... Apparently in another life?

"Honestly, we're just thrilled to have you here, Mr. Wayne. You don't know what it means to Haly's to have such a rich guy here"

"Richard!"

"I-I mean... Ya know", Dick tried to cover his slip up with a widely crooked grin, even as he scratched the back of his head bashfully, "Wealthy... Sorry"

Bruce couldn't help but feel a swell of pride and familiarity in his heart. Dick was the same person he'd always known. He grew up to be the same person. Joking, bright, cheery, outgoing. As happy as ever. It made him feel guilty to know the boy was torn away from all this. But was he? Was THIS now real life? Was his whole past a dream? What was happening? Did Dick really die? Was he ever really Robin?

The billionaire started to feel lightheaded, dizzy, and disoriented... He grabbed at his forehead and blinked away the blurriness and the discomfort fogging his vision.

"Mr. Wayne?", he heard Dick calmly question, "Are you alright?"

"Uhh", he stammered, trying to shake away the fog and appear somewhat normal, "Y-yeah... I just... I'm fine. S-sorry, Dick"

"Oops, excuse me", John spoke up briefly, looking into the distance to a group of performers who were waving him on, "I need to take care of something. David? Come with me? Oh, and Mary, could you please make sure the rigging is all good"

"Double checked it myself, dad", Dick proudly boasted, "Flew on it and everything. It's all good"

The rigging, Bruce rose to alert. His eyes opened wide, looking around. Even though he was unaware of his plans for this night, sprung on him by Alfred just a bit ago, he knew he had to stay tonight. What if they fell? What if there was an accident? What if–

"Well then, in that case, Dicky how about you show Mr. Wayne around the grounds?", John offered, clapping his oldest son on the back, "I'm sure the biggest benefactor of our performance here in Gotham would love to tour around the area and see the sights. Show him the animals. Introduce him to other performers.

"You got it", Dick saluted to his dad. Even the quirky hand gesture was familiar to Bruce, sending another pang of confusion through his body. The younger man turned and smiled, waving to him to follow along, "Come on, we'll start with the elephants. They're my favorite. Just keep an eye out for any loose food you might have; Zitka gets hungry a lot...", then he snickered and side stepped a pile of something on the ground, "Aaaand watch for the poop..."

As they walked along, Bruce Wayne felt like he was in the twilight zone.

Dick had died.

So why was he here? Why was he back in the circus? Clearly, Dick didn't know who Robin was seeing as he had no idea who Bruce was. And now he had a little brother? Would this have been his life if Robin wasn't a thing? Would this be his life if his parents hadn't died?

Bruce barely registered Dick speaking about the captive animals, but he did hear the long pause. The man turned when he didn't hear his ward's — or not?-- voice anymore. Looking over and away from the tents around him, he noticed Dick frozen. Not in fear, but in anger. His mouth was tight and his eyes narrowed on something off to his side. Following his line of sight, Bruce noticed that there was a man standing by. A man that, by the way he dressed and loitered, clearly didn't belong to the circus troupe. Dick scowled and held up his hand to the billionaire.

"Hang on a sec... There's something I gotta take care of. Stay here"

Sure enough, Bruce watched as Dick walked briskly over to the man. Curious, trying to make sense of his day, he followed. Surely this was some kind of dream, so if he overheard the conversation, it may give him clues as to what the heck was going on.

"I thought we told you never to come back here", Dick snarled at the scraggly man who seemed as if he'd needed a shower for a month. The stench coming off him alluded as much. That and the disheveled hair, grimy skin, and nasty teeth to match.

"You never told me", the man countered with a smugness that made Bruce's hair on his arms stand up.

Dick growled and pointed at the guy's chest, unafraid of being blasted by the noxious odors from the unbathed man, "Look, bud, we all told you to git. Haly's not paying, and you can't make him"

Paying? Bruce was on edge. Bribery? Extortion?

"Oh, he'll pay alright", the man promised with a low chuckle, "Remember our deal? You's pay up and we leave ya's alone"

"This doesn't seem like you're leaving us alone", Dick barked back, crossing his arms, "I'll give you one last time before I kick your butt. Get. Out. Now"

Suddenly, three other men appeared out from behind the trailer they were near. Three more nasty, putrid men who gave off the same ominous air surrounded Dick, and now Bruce who was mere steps behind the younger circus performer.

"Yyyyeaaaaa", the man scratched his chin in humorous thought, "I dun think so...", he snapped his fingers, signaling the other three to move in. Their hands were up as if to grab Dick.

But Dick wouldn't have it... He put his fists in front of him and readied himself for action.

This snapped Bruce into attention. He growled at the immediate danger Dick was put in and placed a hand on his shoulder to show solidarity. The action caused the young man's eyes to dart around, gasping with shock that the billionaire was right there.

"Mr. Wayne? What are you doing? I told you to stay back!"

His distraction was enough for one of the men to make his move. Without warning, Dick was punched in the face, reeling backwards.

Bruce gasped and shouted, "No!", but didn't wait long before he sprung into action and readied himself to take on the other men coming forward.

It was on.

Dick growled and readied himself again, standing and lunging forward to get back at the man who decked him, throwing his own punches, adding his own commentary just like he was used to.

"Looks like someone needs a bath!", he shouted, grabbing the man's jacket and hurling him towards a nearby water trough meant for the thirsty animals. Soaked from head to toe, the man gurgled and sputtered, struggling to get out. Dick turned his sights back towards the others that had surrounded Bruce.

Seemingly, the older rich man knew what he was doing... or so he thought...

A lucky punch landed to Bruce's gut, distracting him enough for the other criminal to wind up his own arm to deliver yet another blow.. But, he was blocked by a tackle to the side, thrown sideways by a young red and white blur.

Bruce looked up and saw Dick taking on the two– no, four??-- men who had surrounded him. Grayson grunted and heaved, tossing lefts and rights and kicks and flips all over the place.

One thing Bruce did note, however, was the lack of help. When he found a break in the fighting from the now eight men, he searched around the area for others and observed that somehow the circus deserted itself. No one was around. No one! The circus was empty!

"Where is everyone?", Bruce thought out loud to himself, sorely weirded out by the situation. Turning back to Dick, he saw something that made his stomach turn.

A man was coming forward with a knife.

Bruce gasped and held out his hand, trying to reach for the young man that was now somehow further away, "NO! Dick, look out!"

Sure enough, he wasn't able to intervene. It was as if his protest went silent.

Dick's yelp of pain stabbed Bruce's ears.

Young blue eyes widened with shock, his mouth open with startled agony. The man released the blade from the trapeze artist's chest and bolted, followed by the others.

Bruce felt his throat tighten and his heart pound. Flashbacks of the rooftop, visions of Dick in pain echoed in front of him. As if bogged down in cement, he felt like it took him forever to reach the young man. However, he came up to him just in time for the injured acrobat to collapse backwards into his arms.

"Dick!", Bruce cried, steadying the injured man in his arms, "Oh God, Dick, NO!"

The black-haired teen arched his back and ached for breaths in between painful pulls of his mouth, a gurgling sound filling the air. He gaped, coughed, and clutched at his chest, his frightened blue eyes staring into Bruce's soul.

He wasn't going to make it.

"HELP!" Bruce screeched at the now mysteriously empty circus area, "HEEEELLLP!"

He looked back down to Dick, his blue eyes stinging with sorrow at the sight of the young man once again dying in his arms. He tried to stem the blood flow pooling from his performance emblem, but it wasn't working. As Dick gasped for breath, blood trickled out of his mouth and down his cheek.

"Please NO!", Bruce shouted brokenly, pulling the boy closer into his arms as he grew more limp, "NO! Stay with me, Dick! Please, stay with me!"

But it was too late... Dick's eyes rolled and his head flopped backwards, his arm falling to the ground.

He was gone.

Guttural, heart wrenching pain filled Bruce's soul, a bad memory that had doubled in grief and torment. Stricken with anguish, the man, whose face crumbled upon itself with sorrow, pulled the younger man into his chest, cradling him closer despite the blood pooling everywhere. Bruce cried and sniffled, shaking his head to deny what was happening.

"No...", he choked and sobbed, tears falling down his cheeks onto Dick's hair, "No... This can't be... Not again... NO... NOOOO!!!"

Chapter Text

"NOOOO!!!"

Bruce Wayne bolted upright once again, screeching at the top of his lungs from the vision of Dick dying in his arms. And, once again, his eyes took a bit to adjust to his surroundings, which as he peered around the area frantically, he came to the very stark realization that he was no longer on the circus grounds. The air in the room didn't smell of animal feces or hay or even sweat from traveling performers that may or may not have access to a regular shower.

He was back in his manor bedroom.

"What in the world is going on?!", Bruce mumbled out loud, deliriously perturbed by the changing realities. He sat up and ran a shaky hand across his face and through his hair, struggling to catch his breath. Surely THAT was the nightmare and now he was back in real life.

It felt so real though... So surreal.

However, as he checked himself, he noticed he was back in his pajamas. In fact, it was the same outfit he woke up in yesterday.

"Did I...", he questioned, narrowing his eyes around his room, "Did I dream that, too?"

Was it yesterday? What day was it? Did he go to the circus? Was he actually there? Did he see Dick and his apparent younger brother, David, that had never had a chance to be born?

Bruce gasped and lit up, sitting upright "Dick!" He leapt from the bed in a furious panic, his feet pounding on the hardwood floor. If his thinking was correct, all of that was a dream and there was a real possibility that Dick was not dead! He had to check!

Rising from his bed, more baffled than ever, Bruce sprinted out into the hallway of the manor. He looked around, wall to wall, and ran unsteadily from his bedroom to his ward's bedroom. Flinging the door open, there was no sign anyone had lived there. No signs of the acrobat's clothes, belongings. Nothing.

"This isn't making any sense", Bruce was struggling mentally. He backed out of the room and ran back down the hall.

He wanted to see Alfred. He needed to see Alfred... He needed to check if–

"Well good morning, Bruce. Or should I say, good afternoon?"

Now that was a voice Bruce Wayne had not heard in forever... Years... Not since that fateful night in the alley.

Sure enough, Bruce halted in his tracks, spun around, and dropped his mouth to the floor.

"It... It can't be!"

The billionaire gawked disbelievingly at the sight of Dr. Thomas Wayne walking towards him. He was barely paying attention, Bruce noted; only enough to allow him to still fiddle with his watch and cuff links. When the older man looked up, he saw his son standing in a state of shock.

Thomas scoffed, "Puh, come now, Bruce. Don't tell me you're going to just stand there with your mouth open. You have to get ready for the day, not stand there lollygagging around in your bed wear"

Bruce again couldn't speak... He blinked and gaped for words. Thomas paused and frowned.

"Bruce? Are you coming down with a cold?", then he rolled his eyes and snarked, "Don't tell me you had another night out with those tramps of yours? Please, three hangovers in one week is absolutely unbecoming of the Wayne name", then he sighed and walked away, shaking his head disappointed, "And for Heaven's sake, get dressed! You don't want your mother seeing you in your underwear, do you?"

Finally, getting over his frozen shock, Bruce shook off the feeling of awkward uncomfortability and fright, "D-dad?", he whispered to himself. Then he thought more about what his father just said, "M-mom?"

The billionaire playboy patted his body and pinched himself, hoping to cause pain to wake himself up from whatever was going on, "This can't be real. This is NOT real!", he grabbed his head and blinked furiously, totally beside himself with bewilderment, "They're... You're... They're both..."

"GOOD GRACIOUS, MASTER BRUCE! Do put on some trousers!"

After slowly gathering himself enough to put on some clothes, especially after Alfred had called him out in the hallway, Bruce made his way downstairs.

Not only had the illusion of seeing his father in the hallway startled him beyond belief, but one more surprise to boot might have just made this the 'weirdest day ever'.

His mother was at the kitchen counter with a cup of tea, the way she always did when he was younger, he remembered.

Martha Wayne smiled and waved to her son, "Well, good morning sweetheart. It's about time you found your way down here"

"And you have pants on", Thomas patted his back roughly, "Good lad"

Bruce couldn't believe it... He rubbed his eyes, staring wildly around the room. He was in the manor, that was sure. But the decorations? It was all different. All new. Was this what life was like with his parents as he grew up? Would they have changed things? More paintings, more sculptures, more vases, just... more. It was so odd.

"None of this makes sense", he whispered under his breath, hoping no one heard him.

"Alrighty, my boy", Thomas once again popped his mouth with finality, "Let's get a move on"

Bruce blinked and turned back to the man, his brain very much not functioning on all cylinders. He stared at his father, sorely puzzled as to what he was even talking about. Seeing his baffled and blank eyes, Thomas rolled his own.

"If you keep having these late nights I'm going to have to put a stop to them", then he nudged and tilted his head, "Let's get a move on, I said. Come on"

Bruce Wayne found his feet moving in the direction of his father without thinking, like he was on autopilot. Glancing around the manor as he walked, he couldn't believe what was going on. Shaking his head to once again try to focus on whatever reality this was, he found himself trailing after into the library. Thomas led him over towards the grandfather clock.

And just like... clockwork... Thomas opened the glass panel and pulled on the chain...

Opening the door.

To the Batcave

Bruce gasped, taking a surprised step back. "What!? You've gotta be kidding me!"

"Come on, we don't have a moment to lose", Thomas ignored his whispered question, "I have a new lead and we need to take it while it's hot"

It was like looking in a mirror of his own reality, watching as the clock opened and revealed the winding staircase into the depths of the cavernous below. Steeling his resolve in an attempt to figure out what was going on, Bruce awkwardly followed his father down the steps into... yes... the Batcave. It was very similar to his own organization: computer, desk, chair, laboratory area, med bay, equipment, training area... it was all there.

"This can't be real", Bruce gawked around, "How did... Why is... How is this even here!?"

"Suit up, Bruce", Thomas's disembodied voice over to the side distracted the younger man back to him. However, when he turned his head to his dad, the weirdness just kept growing and growing..

Thomas Wayne... was dressed... as Batman

"You've have to be kidding me?!", Bruce Wayne repeated for the second time in so many minutes. For sure, he was having one of the most absurdly bizarre days imaginable. He just stared, his mouth opened wide. That's all he could do. Each minute was one big shock after the other.

His father was Batman.

"Ah, good", 'Batman' spun back around, grinning satisfactorily towards his son, "Glad you changed"

Unsure what he was referring to, Bruce blinked and risked a look down at his own body...

Weirdness level 8,495..

"What!? I'm... I'm...", Bruce sputtered, grasping at his own costume, the red, green, and yellow nearly blinding him,"I'M ROBIN!?" 

"Not for very long if you keep up that attitude", the gruff voice changed. Thomas swooped over to the computer, typing and pulling up some videos and text from whatever case they were supposedly working on, "Now, I told you I have a new lead on the Acrobat"

"The... who? Dad, what is going on?!", Bruce/Robin was still sorely confused. Thomas sighed and rolled his eyes.

"The Acrobat, Robin. The same villain we've been tracking for five years. The one that just keeps slipping through our grip. But", he grinned sneakily, "The rumor mill is spreading like wildfire. Word is that he's back here in Gotham stirring up trouble. He might have skipped town for a year, but he won't be able to this time. This time, we get him", he stood up, swooshed his cape around his body, and gestured towards the Batmobile.

Bruce – Robin– felt like he was having a stroke. The world was so different. So odd. So... messed up.

His dad was Batman.

He was Robin.

Where was Dick? What's going on? Was Dick still dead? If he was Robin, there was no way Dick Grayson was even in his life. But why Robin? Why not Bat Boy?

Blindly following, Bruce found himself crawling into the passenger seat, a seat he never really ever sat in – aside from a case or two where Robin had to drive home because of an injury.

Almost instantaneously, Batman and Robin pulled up to an abandoned warehouse. They both jumped out of the vehicle, one a bit more unfocused than the other. Looking around the night sky, Bruce came up with another weird observation. Thinking to himself, he muttered under his breath. 

"I just woke up... how is it night already?"

Because sure enough, the sky was pitch black. It was at least well after ten or eleven o'clock at night. But wasn't it just noon? Why was time moving differently?

As they stalked on, the unconventional Dynamic Duo came across an abandoned warehouse further up near the docks. Bruce couldn't help it: he scoffed sarcastically to himself, remembering his own partner's familiar observations on the predictability of Gotham's 'stupid and moronic' underworld, to quote him.

"Dick's right...Why is it always abandoned warehouses?"

"Because they're the only places these scum feel safe enough to do their devilish work", Batman/Thomas must have overheard him, "Come on, let's stick to the shadows. Take it by the numbers... nice and easy"

Wow, Bruce thought, deja vu... He crept closer to his father, doing the best he could to stick to the shadows. But, it was strange: it seemed like whenever he got to the shadow, it would pull away from him, revealing him into the light. Some things just didn't seem right.

That was a laugh, Bruce thought slyly to himself, NOTHING seemed right.

After a few moments, they approached a door leading inside. Batman kicked it open and the sound echoed throughout the space. He tilted his head towards Robin and pointed, indicating they go in separate directions. Robin/Bruce nodded and went around to the right. His eye slits pierced through the dark for any sign of action, anything out of place.

Who am I kidding, this entire night is out of place... My dad is Batman? I'M Robin?! Nothing is making sense!

Since his mind wasn't in the right space, he was unaware that he was attracting someone behind him... Unable to react, he was kicked in the back and sent reeling forward. Robin/Bruce went down, but recovered quickly and spun back around on his back, just in time to catch another boot in his hands. Swiftly, he lifted the attacker over his head and threw him.

However, the attacker, barely an adult – more like a teenager– effortlessly flipped and twisted midair, landing gracefully on his toes before turning into another back handspring. He was unaffected by the toss. 

The boy in question wore a black denim jacket over top a dark blue shirt, ripped blue pants, and a bright red bandana that covered the bottom part of his face. Dark sunglasses adorned his face covering his eyes. The only part of him that was visible other than his skin was his spiked jet black hair.

"Whoa... What in the–", Bruce admired, watching the height the young man got as he arched his back and twisted, landing perfectly on a railing beam a mere ten feet away, "How did you just... ", he whispered, studying the criminal, an eerie suspicion grew in his chest like a lead ball settling in, "Wait a minute..."

Bruce observed him, watching as he pulled two sticks out from the back pocket of his pants. And yet, as he twirled them and jumped down from the railing, he knew instantly who it was. The boy's posture, his hair...

"I told you and your boss to leave me alone!", the boy spat back. 

That voice.

The second the boy spoke, Bruce Wayne knew his assumption was right on the money.

It was a punch in the gut if he ever felt one. 

Robin's eyes widened and he dropped his stance, once again overcome with deja vu and shock. Gulping back a large lump of nervousness, he spoke one broken and strained word.

"Dick?"

The boy paused, frozen. He didn't move.

Bruce started breathing again and went on, approaching as calmly as he could to not give away his pounding heart and clogged ears that settled in the more anxious he became. He tried to appear non threatening. He tried pleading for some kind of answer, but also dreadfully sick to his stomach at this new confrontation.

"Dick? Is that you?"

After what seemed like an eternity, the young criminal reacted. In one swift motion, he reached up and ripped the sunglasses off his eyes and bandana from his mouth and nose. Staring back at Bruce was the very rough, very scarred, and very worn down face of a very real representation of the young boy he had believed to be dead.

Richard John Grayson.

"No one calls me that", Dick growled nastily, "No one!", he scowled further, "And I told you to stay away from me! You and your boss need ta git!"

Robin/Bruce couldn't believe it... His heart raced as he began to panic, grasping for answers, his eyes wide with disbelief and even something akin to fear. He was afraid of what was happening, afraid of finding out why Dick was like this. Slowly coming closer to the defensive boy, he held up his hands in a peaceful gesture, trying to reason with the young man that had turned to this life.

"Dick... What happened to you? Why are you doing this? What's going on?!"

Dick didn't answer; instead he grit his teeth and gripped at his bars more. Bruce saw this and tried to deescalate the situation.

"Please", he pleaded, his voice cracking emotionally, "Please talk to me"

"Talk?", scoffed Dick, "Talk? HA! That's hilarious...", he laughed sardonically, "You and your boss never want to talk. You both have made that perfectly clear for all these years", he pointed one of the bars at him dangerously, "You've both made my life miserable! It's all your fault! And now you wanna talk?!"

"Ahhh, good, you found him", Batman strolled out of the shadows, a glowering stare upon his face as his sights settled on the younger man, "Time to end this"

"No, wait!", Robin/Bruce held out his hands to stop his father from coming forward, "I know him!"

"You don't know me!", Dick countered nastily, even more defensive than before now that he saw both of his enemies, "You don't know anything about me! You think you do, but you don't!"

"Yes I do!", Bruce reasoned, tears stinging his eyes. Perhaps removing his mask would do some good to help the boy recognize him, so he did just that. He felt his throat closing in as panic rose in his chest, "Dick, please, I–"

"Don't call me that!!"

"ROBIN, put your mask back on now!"

"I know you were a part of the Haly's circus!", Bruce went on quickly to get his point in, ignoring the young boy's outburst and his father's urging to replace his mask, "I know you were a trapeze artist! You love elephants, you love playing jokes on people. You're always trying to find the best out of any situation. You bring light to the darkness... To my darkness", then he gulped sadly, feeling like in the moment this was something he should have told him before. He took a deep, shaky breath and went on, "And I know what happened to your parents..."

At first, as the hero was speaking, Dick was shocked to hear all those facts. The criminal was somehow exposing all of his past, knowing what he went through, what he was. As the masked man continued, he found himself dropping his facade and his bars.

But when he mentioned his parents, the fury returned.

Instantly, Dick growled and readied himself for battle, but not in enough time to prevent Batman from leaping in and kicking him across the warehouse, a good twenty feet away. His rough landing nearly knocked the wind out of him as he rolled and flopped to a stop. 

"NO!", Robin/Bruce lit up and protested. Demanding it all stop, he raced forward and snagged his father's arm. Batman shook his off like a feather and sprinted over to the downed villain for round two. Before he made it to the man who was picking himself up, the Caped Crusader felt himself hurtling in the opposite direction. 

Bruce had thrown him off to the side and away from the boy, preventing any more damage. Thomas snarled at his son, puzzled at his actions.

"What do you think you're doing?!", Robin screeched, surprised and shocked that his father was behaving this way.

"I'm finishing what we started all those years ago" Batman's gruff voice reminded him as he stood back up, "Get out of my way, Robin. And put your damned mask back on!"

"Why?!", Bruce demanded, "Why are you doing this?! Finish what?!"

"It's all your fault!", Dick stood up uneasily, grabbing an injured shoulder he must have landed on when he was tossed, "You're the one that cut the wires! You're the one that made them fall! They did nothing to you!!" he snapped and panted angrily, "YOU KILLED THEM!!"

Wait, cut the wires? Bruce thought to himself, reeling from the proverbial bomb that went off in his mind. Dad cut the wires? My dad killed Dick's parents on purpose?!

Bruce was not expecting this. The words hit and rocked him to the core. The pained look in Dick's eyes said as much. He wasn't lying...

Robin stood up straighter, slowly, stiffly turning to his father. A shocked look of perpetual frozen bewilderment painted on his face as he whispered the one strained word, "Wh-what?"

When Batman didn't react, Bruce knew it was true. Thomas didn't argue. He didn't counter. He didn't do anything. He just stood there facing his outraged son, his stoic form contrasting the younger man's aghast stare.

It was true.

"You... What did you do!?"

"You act like you weren't there, Robin", the Dark Knight calmly yet haughtily posed the obvious, walking forward past him. He cracked his knuckles and directed his next words to the young teen, "And you're next, Acrobat"

Without hesitation, Thomas Wayne pulled out a weapon from his belt.

A gun

Bruce couldn't believe what was happening. His eyebrows flew up to the top of his forehead and his mouth opened wide at the sight of the weapon.

Thomas held up the glock. Dick recoiled and prepared to duck. Bruce held out his hands to stop the action, but no amount of his yelling would do any good.

Rapid fire; bullets flew everywhere.

Dick flung himself backwards like a true athlete and took off down the length of the warehouse. He flipped and twisted, parkouring his way up to the upper catwalk that had appeared out of nowhere, Bruce noted.

"NO! STOP!", Bruce cried, reaching for his father's arms to stop the gunfire. However, Batman easily flung him off like he was a rag doll.

"Stay out of my way, Robin! Or else you'll end up like them" 

"You can't do this! You don't know what you're doing!!", Bruce demanded, standing up to reach for his father again.

Yet this time, he wasn't able to stop him.

The world was slow motion.

At least his world was. Bruce couldn't move. His legs were simultaneously floppy like jello and stiff as bricks. No amount of struggle or muscle could make him move any more.

"This is impossible!", Bruce screeched at his pathetic uselessness, "What is happening?!"

Thomas Wayne aimed and fired while Dick Grayson ducked and ran. He sprinted all around, flipping over boxes and ducking under beams that exploded with gunfire, and soared back up to the catwalk with his acrobatic maneuvers. The young teen somehow couldn't find a way to escape, seeing no windows or exit doors anymore.

Bruce yelled, but couldn't move, frustration bellowing out of his lungs as he screamed into the air. 

"Why can't I move!? Why can't I run!? Why is this happening to me?!"

However, just as he complained to whatever Gods were messing with him, he quickly felt himself lurch forward and out of his spot. With his new found freedom, he sprinted and bolted at the armed masked man. When he reached for his arms again and tried to pry the weapon from his hands with brute force, he was met with resistance.

"Don't do this! You can't do this!"

"WATCH ME!"

Throwing his son off him one more time, Thomas aimed again and fired.

This time, it landed its mark.

Dick was up on the catwalk with nowhere to go. He tried to spin back and double around the other way, but was halted in his spot by a jolt of pain in his back. His yelp of pain echoing through the room, letting the two below know he was indeed shot.

"NOOOO!!", Bruce screeched at the top of his lungs, holding out his arms like he could do something about it.... But he couldn't.

Dick panted and winced with every step before stumbling forward and sideways. Bruce watched with horror as the boy's face pinched with pain, but couldn't do anything as he began falling over the railing of the catwalk and down, landing and bouncing off two crates before landing on the cold floor, face down.

"DIIIIICK!!", he screamed once more, running to the boy. Bruce panicked and knelt down next to him, rolling him over onto his back. Dick was alive, but struggling to breathe.

"Move aside, son", Thomas' deadpan tone dangerously rumbled from behind. Bruce scowled and spun around, hatred brewing in his heart, warm anger boiling under his skin as tears welled in his eyes.

"I'm not your son! You are NOT my father! My real father would never do this!!"

The older man didn't react at first... His face gave nothing away other than a steely cold expression, an emotionless facade. After a few moments of stare-down, a snarling grin rose on his face.

"If I'm not your real father, then I won't have any problem doing this", Thomas evenly spoke, a menacing cool evenness in his tone. Within a beat, he raised his gun once more.

This time to Bruce.

And fired

Chapter Text

At this point in the game, one would figure that Bruce Wayne would become accustomed to waking up drenched in sweat and panic from each nightmarish life he had just lived.

But with each passing memory, day, night, vision, projection, whatever he would call it, it was something fresh and new and just as alarming that would keep his heart racing like a drag car.

"NOOOOOO!!"

The billionaire lurched upwards in a heartbeat, panting and breathing heavily. Sweat dripped down from his brow, his eyes shaken wide with fear and his skin pale white and clammy. Bruce Wayne struggled to steady his lungs, but they were burning just as much as his head pounded. He could still barely make out the angry and heated voices of Richard Grayson and Thomas Wayne, slowly fading away. Foggy visions faded away in front of him, barely there. It was as if he could still see it, like he was dreaming...

And then he heard a voice.

"Master Bruce!"

Hearing the surprised and startled shout next to him shook him from the cobwebs and the faint visions in front of him. Sure enough, Alfred Pennyworth was next to him, his face worried and strained yet relieved all the same. The older man sighed, a weight off his chest.

"Oh my dear boy, thank goodness you're awake!"

"A-Alfred?"

Bruce strained to speak, his heart thundering and his head throbbing. He blinked heavily, finding a way to control himself. But, just as the uncertainty of seeing the man next to him he lit up with even more panic and clutched at the butler's shirt.

"What day is it?! What year is it?! Where am I!? Am I Batman? Where are my parents!? Is the Scarecrow dead?! Is Robin alive?! Is this real life?!"

"My word, Bruce! What on Earth are you-"

"Please! Please tell me! I need to know! I can't keep doing this Alfred!", the black-haired man heaved and pleaded, shaking his head against the torment he just cycled through, "I can't do this again! I can't keep living a nightmare!!"

Alfred blinked at his incessant rambling and saw how utterly frightened he was. Reaching up he held the man's hands that were still on his collar.

"Bruce Thomas Wayne, it is Monday the the 11th and yes you are Batman. In fact, you are in the Batcave at this very moment. Your parents are unfortunately deceased but I assure you the Scarecrow is very much alive, as he was apprehended tonight by the police. This is real life, I assure you, as real as it could possibly get"

The explanation wasn't good enough. The frenzied man leaned in closer, his blues bugging out of his skull as he desperately searched for more proof.

"Dick! What about Dick?! Do you know who Dick Grayson is?!"

Alfred huffed as if that were the most preposterous question.

"Dear Heavens boy, what a silly question. Master Dick is-"

Before he could continue, he was interrupted when a rumbling entered the cave.

Both men turned their heads and saw the dark black motorcycle roll up with a green and red hero attached.

Robin, the Boy Wonder, cut the engine and staggered off the bike, removing his helmet. Bruce's eyes widened even more at the sight of his ward, in the flesh, fully alive and in his presence. A shot went through the heart as he stood up and walked a few steps away from the medical bed.

The tired teen grunted, rolling his right shoulder with an uncomfortable grimace as he trudged over. Bruce noted he appeared sore and absolutely exhausted; worn down, beat down, and every bit as stressed as he probably was. But he was alive! Alive! Alfred told him this was real life and he was starting to believe it.

"Man, Alfred, I tell ya... These low-life bums just don't know when to quit!", he removed his mask and rubbed his face, scratching at his neck, "I swear, if one major villain gets out, they all feel like they gotta just-"

But he stopped mid-sentence when his blue eyes lifted and saw his mentor, guardian, and partner standing upright by the cave's medical bed. Gasping at the sight of Bruce awake, Dick lit up and ran over with the widest smile across his face.

"Bruce! You're awake! Ah man, you had us worried sick! I was wondering when you'd-"

His surprised exclamation was cut off when a strong pair of arms wrapped around him, pulling him in for an embrace.

Dick's eyes widened even more as Bruce clutched him close, his bewildered blues scanning around for a reason. When he looked over to Alfred on the other side of Bruce's bed. Alfred simply shrugged, silently loving the affection from the older man, even though he was also confused at the older man's behavior. Dick's mouth grew crooked and amused albeit slightly worried. He patted Bruce's back, doing his best to possibly alleviate any awkwardness.

"Hey, um... You alright?"

Bruce leaned back and gripped the younger man's shoulders, peering into his eyes. When Dick saw the worry and uncertainty in his mentor's watery eyes, his quirky smile dropped, now even more concerned.

"Bruce? You okay? How are you feeling?"

The Dark Knight didn't know what to say...

Was this real life? Was this another dream? He wasn't sure... Was this Dick the real one or some figment of his imagination? Was he really Batman or was his deceased father the owner of the mantle? Was Dick an acrobat again with a younger brother or some forgotten youth that turned to the streets? He had no idea... But right now, the 16-year-old was alive and in front of him; clearly Robin, clearly himself. When he didn't answer, Dick and Alfred both prodded again.

"Bruce?"

"Master Bruce?"

The older dark haired man shook his head and tried to quell his anxiety and frantic confusion. Steadying his breath, he shakily nodded, trying to return to normalcy. He didn't want anyone to worry, so he feigned that he was fine.

"Y-yeah... I'm...", another slow puff of air, "I'm fine"

"Man", Dick chuckled awkwardly, the concern still very evident in his tone, "You really had us worried..."

"What happened?"

Dick frowned as Bruce's hands dropped from his shoulder and stood there. He took a deep breath, "Scarecrow happened"

"Scarecrow...", Bruce repeated evenly, slowly trying to remember what happened.

"Yeah, the stakeout we were last on. I guess when you breathed in that gas that came out of his hand, it affected you pretty bad", Dick rubbed a hand through his hair, "After we made it on that roof you were fine for a few minutes but then...", he shrugged again, the pain of the memory stinging, "You just kinda went south. You started saying things, like weird things, mumbling and yelling, like you were seeing things that weren't there, and... Anyway, before I knew it you just... lost it"

Bruce tried to remember.

He did, in fact, remember, but it was somewhat of a blur. He did remember the stakeout. He did recall splitting up and cornering the thin villain of fright from both sides with his partner. The gas did expel from the Scarecrow's wrist and he did remember breathing in the purple fumes. But after that was not as clear. Bruce's brow scrunched as he wracked his brain for more information. Looking up at Dick from his hands, where his eyes had dropped to, he asked the one big question.

"How long was I out?"

Dick frowned again, this time even deeper.

"Three days... We weren't sure if... when... you'd, ya know, wake up", he rubbed at his shoulder and winced. Bruce wasn't sure if it was from the painful memories of him never waking up or any injury, or both, "Turns out Scarecrow's new toxin is extremely volatile and crazy unpredictable, not just scaring the victim senseless like his old stuff used to but disorienting them and causing some severe hallucinations. Except way worse. When I finally got you back here, which", he gave a quick humorless snort, "was not exactly my idea of fun, you finally passed out. We tried to make a new antidote, but I'm not the chemist you are. You'd probably have had it ready to go in an hour...", the boy pursed his lips sullenly, "I'm sorry"

Bruce couldn't believe his ears.

Dick was apologizing for not waking him up sooner. Dick, who had to lug his half lucid half dead-weight body down from the roof, into the Batmobile, out of the Batmobile, through the cave and onto the medical gurney, was apologizing. He was extremely grateful for the young man's effort, but through his steadfast confusion and fogginess, instead of thanking him for all his efforts, all he could hear himself automatically saying was:

"It's okay"

Dick didn't smile. Instead, he simply nodded... Glancing over his shoulder, he exhaled heavily before thumbing in that direction, the adrenaline leaving his body and replaced with weariness.

"Well, I'm gonna get the bike put away and start on the report. Gordon said when they caught Scarecrow he had a ton of inventory on him, like he was ready to spread it around the city. It makes us think maybe he wasn't working alone"

"A distributor... Right"

"Right", Dick trailed off, seeing his partner's long stare into the abyss around him, his mind very much preoccupied and not responding coherently. He cleared his throat and took his leave, turning around to the bike. Even through the wrinkled brow, the worry lines on his cheeks, the unsteady swaying of his visibly exhausted body, Robin set to his task of wrapping up the investigation.

Alfred watched the interaction, glancing between the younger and the older of his charges, watching their movements and facial expressions. It was difficult to see two men who cared about each other so much clam up like they were hiding the world's biggest secret. But unbeknownst to them, everyone could see how much they cared about each other.

"Master Bruce?"

The billionaire was startled out of his stupor turned and watched Alfred come closer, the older man's expression gaunt and haunted, his lips turned down.

"Are you feeling alright, sir?"

Silent for a few moments, Bruce pondered if he really was right. If he really was okay. He was about to say 'yes, of course I am', but after one more quick look over towards his young ward whom he considered a son and watched his disappear about the corner with his motorcycle he decided against it. Sighing heavily, Bruce closed his eyes.

"Alfred", then he looked up with worried eyes, "Is this really real life?"

Mr. Pennyworth saw the distrust and skepticism. Smiling warmly, he nodded.

"Yes, Master Bruce. As far as I know, this is real life"

And with that announcement, with that final declaration, Bruce nodded. Solemnly he walked away and over towards the computer console, cautiously seating himself down. Batman was back in action, typing feverishly away.

Not seeing as if he'd make any head way, Alfred frowned further and set back to his own business of tidying up the area.

But... he didn't get far.

"He died, Alfred"

The low rumble that was barely a whisper broke Alfred's concentration, causing him to look up and over his shoulder. Bruce had since stopped typing. His head was in his hands, his body hunched over. When that happened, he wasn't sure, but it was alarming to say the least to see the strong man so brazenly awkward. Alfred blinked and quirked an eyebrow and walked over to stand by his charge.

"Who died, sir?"

A moment of hesitation later, the dark-haired man croaked, barely audible but full of emotion.

"... Dick..."

That name got the butler's attention. His eyes opened wide, curious for more information.

"Sir? What do you mean?"

The elderly man came closer next to Bruce's side and the first thing he noticed was the shaking hands. The second thing was the single tear that fell down his cheek. The younger man ground his teeth through pursed lips and clenched his fists, gripping them tightly as all the memories flooded back.

"Dick...", he exhaled heavily, "In every vision, every nightmare... he... he died. I... I couldn't stop it from happening"

That was not what Alfred was expecting to hear. He clutched at his heart.

"Oh... my dear. Sir, I-"

"I couldn't stop it, Alfred...", the pain was clear in his voice, "Dick died over and over and over again and I couldn't do anything about it. It... It..."

Bruce spoke up after a few moments of silence, grateful for the older man's patience.

"Watching my parents die right in front of me was bad enough", he opened up, his voice still very low and hurt, "It was the worst pain imaginable, something that rocked me to my core in a way I never predicted. It changed my life... But this? Alfred, this was... this was something completely different. It hit me harder", his eyes stared at his visibly shaking hands unseeing, as if he were looking past into his memories, "Watching Dick die as I held him in my arms, with the blood and...", pausing to take a breath, "... and watching it happen again and again... I-It was...", he sighed, trembling, closing his eyes and dropping his head, "He means so much to me, I... I couldn't stand the thought of losing him. Couldn't bear it... Alfred, if I ever lost Dick I think it..."

Then, Bruce's harsh voice grew even lower, to an aching heartfelt whisper he wasn't sure even the bats could hear.

"I think it would break me"

He trailed off, closing his eyes shut again. Alfred's sympathetic heart felt for him, he really did. It was one thing to live a nightmare, but to relive it in a looped cycle would leave anyone feeling trapped. Whatever Scarecrow put in his toxin was enough to leave someone riddled with fear, anxiety, and dread, but this new formula was almost as if it were specifically curated to leave someone in the mental gymnastics of torment facing their worst fears imaginable... and if that worst fear is watching the people you love meet their demise on repetition, then it most definitely would leave that person traumatized.

"So if this isn't real life", he cracked, standing up, facing his own father-figure with desperation in his eyes, he asked again, "I need to know... I can't go through that again. I just can't!"

Alfred breathed through his nose, slowly, understanding exactly where the young distraught man was coming from. Walking closer, he reached up and put two supportive hands on Bruce's shoulders, smiling warmly and kindly.

"Bruce Wayne, this is real life. I promise you that. I am very real. As are you... and Dick. I give you my word", he squeezed his shoulders for good measure, "And as grateful and as humbled as I am that you confided in me all your recent experiences, I do believe perhaps you should award the same courtesy to another. I do believe you should Master Dick"

"Tell Master Dick what?"

Both older men were startled by the incoming voice of the red and green hero who had now changed out of his uniform. Striding up to them was the fatigued face of Dick Grayson, dressed in sweatpants and a white tank top -bare feet, of course-, wiping his hair with a towel. Bruce assumed he must have quickly showered in the meantime, removing the grime and grit of Gotham's streets from his body.

It wasn't the only thing he noticed.

There was a large bruise covering Dick's shoulder; a nasty green and purple splotched mess that was evidently from a recent injury. It was also the one he was rubbing when he got off his bike, which led Bruce to one stark realization:

"You've been going out there on your own?"

Dick quirked his mouth sideways and shrugged with his uninjured shoulder, playing it off like it was nothing. Bruce could tell he was walking stiffly, giving away how sore he was. Yet his expression and attitude tried to feign normalcy.

"Well, yeah. I mean, someone had to, right?", then he chuckled and came closer to the computer console, still holding his towel. Joking even more, he went on, "But I'm gonna tell ya, it'll be nice to have you back out there to take your share of the punches"

Bruce watched him sit down at the computer for a moment, unsure of how to react as the teenager went about opening up files and typing. Robin was patrolling solo out on the streets to cover for Batman's absence, taking the brunt of the nastiness that was thrown their way on a regular night. It was honorable and noble, but it made the older man worry. That being said, he also knew that his worry would go ignored, seeing as how stubborn the former acrobat was in his own right. No amount of concern or words of caution would slow down the younger man. Not one bit.

But he also thought about what Alfred had said...

"Hey... Dick?", Bruce spoke up after a few moments, interrupting the young man who was in the middle of a report.

Dick didn't turn away from the screen's mission, but answered anyway.

"Yeah?"

Bruce looked over to Alfred, who met him with a supportive grin and a slight head nod. Feeling his own lips curve up, he reached over to the computer and tapped a button, effectively shutting down the console. This surprised Dick.

"What, hey! Why did you-"

"How about we leave this for tomorrow, okay?"

"But...", Dick was confused, raising an eyebrow, "I'm always supposed to report on what happened. Shouldn't I be doing that?"

"Not tonight, Dick", Bruce urged him quietly, gesturing for him to rise, "Come on. Let's go get a coffee. You and me"

Dick blinked again, very puzzled. He pointed to the clock, "Uuuumm... but it's midnight"

"It's okay. My treat"

The younger man watched his mentor wink, sensing there was more than met the eye. Bruce rarely smiled, and he sure as heck didn't offer coffee at midnight - at least, unless it was an all-nighter for a mission. But, Dick played along. He rose with a wide sly smirk, snorting humorously.

"Your treat, huh? Well, you're the billionaire, I'd hope so"

Bruce's laughter rang through the cave.

Alfred watched happily as the father walked with his son out of the dark dwelling and up the stairs, his arm slung comfortably around the other's shoulder, even listening in on their conversation.

"So, I have to ask: what happened to your shoulder?"

"Eh, some guy got in a lucky one, no biggie. You dislocate it once, you dislocate it a million times"

"You dislocated your arm!?"

Chapter Text

"Stuff your advice, Batman! You and your stone cold heart. You don't know how I feel! How could you??"

A short twitch of offense flitted across Batman's stoic face, a subtle hint of wounding that made Dick realize his mistake. His immediate and horrible mistake. His face dropped as guilt and regret replaced the hot anger.

"Batman, I... I didn't mean it... I'm sorry."

Sirens filled the air as Robin and Batman recognized the arrival of the police force. With one final glare of pure loathing thrown the way of the murderer in his grasp, Robin spun and threw Tony Zucco over and away onto the pier. Robin stalked around the now cowering Zucco towards his bike and away from both him and his mentor...

Batman watched the teenager walk away. He knew he needed to talk to him. He knew he needed to tell him he was proud of how he handled himself now, but understood how angry he was to nearly let it get the best of him. The night was over: it was done... It was time for peace and reconciliation and closure.

At least he thought.

"Oh, Bats?"

Batman looked over at the downed criminal Anthony Zucco, conman and racketeering expert, as he reached into his jacket pocket with a sinister sneer. Then, the caped hero watched with horror when his hand came out of his jacket with something in its grasp.

A pistol.

Quickly, without any further warning, the hand gun lifted and trained on Batman. But before Batman could react to the looming deadly shot, Zucco's devious grin grew wider... then turned his gun behind him.

And aimed it at Robin's back.

The Dark Knight gasped with shock at the new development and shouted a quick warning.

"NO! Robin, look out!"

But it was too late.

Even though Robin turned at the warning, it wasn't enough time to dodge. It was as if life were slow motion and rapid speed simultaneously, Bruce noted; one that happened in the blink of an eye and a millennium all at once. Like as if you could see events happening before they did but there was nothing you could do to stop it.

The bullet lodged in his chest near his "R" symbol. The hit was punctuated with a gasp, a strangled grunt of pain and startled surprise, and a flinching reactionary movement as he recoiled, finally succumbing to the gravity as he flew back with a thud on the wooden flooring of the pier.

He barely heard himself screaming.

"NOOOO!!"

Batman heard a second shot amidst his screeching, but he wasn't aware until later that it was not from Zucco's gun. Instead, the new entry embedded in Zucco's chest instead of his partner's, causing the murderer to fall backwards onto the planks, effectively stopping his gunfire.

The Caped Crusader forced himself into action as horror gripped his insides, as if an elephant were squeezing his guts from the inside out. Racing awkwardly and blindly to his ward's unmoving side, ignoring his injured knee, the pained and groaning criminal, and the police officers in the distance running down the pier, Batman finally fell to the ground beside the downed boy.

"Robin! Dick!", he cracked, his voice gaining urgency as his eyes began to sting. He held Grayson's head in his hand while grabbing at his shoulder with the other, turning him to face him. At the sight of the injury, he cried out even more, "No, no, please God no! Dick! Dick, answer me!"

Robin was nearly unconscious, uttering small moans and gulps of air, but unresponsive to his frantic demands to wake up. Pure panic took a hold of his heart as he failed to do anything to stem the red liquid. Blood seeped out of the wound on the boy's chest, and even though he himself was not shot, Bruce felt every bit of agony strangle his entire body as if he were. Shaking with fearful hysteria, he carefully yet quickly lifted the injured boy into his arms. Batman stood up, righted the motorcycle with Dick cradled on his lap, and took off.

As he zoomed past the police officers storming down the pier to reach Zucco, he ignored their looks of confusion at the departing Dynamic Duo. When Batman neared the end, flying past the security van, Gordon watched as the Dark Knight sped by. He gasped when he noticed Batman holding Robin in his lap.

"Oh no...", he whispered with growing horror, watching them leave without checking in. The Commissioner knew something was wrong... something really wrong.

Life was a blur...

Bruce didn't remember radioing to Alfred to meet him at Leslie's NOW...

He couldn't hear himself pleading down to the boy in his lap to be okay, to stay with him, to not leave him, to please dear God be okay...

He barely recalled rolling up to Leslie's back door and racing inside with the limp boy dangling in his arms... begging for her help...

Setting Dick on the operating table...

Leslie informing him she'd need his assistance until Alfred arrived....

The shrill steady, flat beep of the heartbeat stalling on the monitor...

The boy's blood all over his hands and his chest and his legs... oh God, so much blood...

Eventually, when Alfred did arrive, the hero was ushered out of the room. Truth was Bruce didn't want to leave but Alfred kicked him out anyway, citing it was for the best he should not be in the room. Bruce wanted to argue back with him that he didn't carry the limp listless kid on the bike with him, or even that he didn't see the bullet hit home in the teenager's flesh. But he didn't.

Batman, his cowl down around his shoulders - he couldn't even remember when he took it off- trudged deliriously into the other room and sat heavily in the chair. Blue eyes stared unblinking at his shivering bare hands covered in blood - Dicks blood... Oh God, so much blood...-, reliving all the terrifying moments that even led up to the disaster. The events of the whole night... how it even started...

It was supposed to be a normal stakeout for a low-level racketeering endeavor, but instead it turned into a random chance blast from the past that ended in absolute horror for both he and Dick as the younger man clung to life on a hospital bed with a hole in his body.

Sitting in silence, with the merciless ticking of time being the only other company, Bruce Wayne was left alone with his thoughts... which was never a good thing.

Two hours later, nearing the early dawn hour of 5:00 am, a door creaked open.

"Bruce?"

No response.

Leslie frowned and walked further out into the room, coming closer to the absolutely still, contemplative younger man. She watched as his eyes remained closed, his body taut and stoic, tense and rigid like he was preparing for the worst.

"Bruce?"

No response.

"He lost a lot of blood", the doctor quietly clued in the details, her own voice soft and tormented as she ran a tired hand across her face, "And he's not out of the woods yet, not by a long shot. But...", she cleared her throat and sighed heavily, "You got him here in time. He's going to make it, Bruce... Dick's healthy and strong. A stubborn fighter, like you... He's going to pull through. He's going to be okay."

No response.

Leslie felt for him, she really did. She knew his history, knew his family tragedy, knew how hard he took it when the people close to him got hurt, so she wasn't surprised by how he was handling this. Hanging her head, she turned to leave but was stopped by a barely audible voice.

"Thank you."

Her hand dropped from the door as she peered over her shoulder back to him, noticing that he still hadn't lifted his head. Leslie walked back over and sat next to him. She watched him, saw him, that even though his eyes were closed, he was fully aware of everything she said.

She even noticed his hands trembling... and the tear that fell onto the floor between them.

Leslie Thompkins reached over and covered one of his hands in hers, feeling comforted when the hand rotated and squeezed back.

Sitting by Dick's side a time later, the father-figure remained frozen, his eyes taking in the sight of the blankets and bandages that covered the boy. The breathing mask, the IVs, his still and strained face that gave away he was not in a peaceful slumber but rather a pain-filled medicine-induced quietude.

It was almost too much.

Bruce Wayne couldn't recall any time his ward was covered in that many wires. Sure, he'd had his fair share of injuries throughout the years as both a masked vigilante sidekick and a rambunctious and over-excited former circus star with a knack for scaling high places - namely the chandeliers that weren't exactly sturdy-, but this was something completely different.

No, there wasn't a time like this at all. Even all the times Dick got hurt, sick, brokenhearted, all the downs and way downs. It was much too often to keep track, which scared him.

But, Bruce remembered all the light.

All the fun. The laughter. The trust. It was always there to counteract and balance his darkness.

Trust.

Batman messed up tonight... No, Bruce did. Batman was the mask that gave Robin the order, but Bruce was the man that kept the little boy who lost his parents all those years ago in the dark. Bruce Wayne abandoned his ward... his son. Bruce Wayne didn't show trust, in either himself or Dick.

And it hurt.

For hours and hours, Bruce never left Dick's side, even when Alfred or Leslie told him to change, to eat, to drink something, to stand up for crying out loud. The loyal butler went to leave once, but he heard Bruce whisper just as he was about to.

"I'm not leaving him... not anymore..."

Alfred knew that he meant: he was there. He was there when Batman drove Robin back and left him in the cave, in the dark, without information, wondering what had gone wrong. Wondering what he did wrong. He was there when Robin did his own investigative work and discovered the true identity of Billy Marin. He was there when the young man took matters into his own hand. What he did not know is that it could end this way...

It wasn't until hours later, nearing the afternoon hours, that Bruce heard a sound from the bed.

The exhausted billionaire's bloodshot eyes fired up and he felt himself move in an instant. Sitting up straighter in his chair, leaning over the stirring boy, Bruce peered into the still face and waited for anymore movement, his voice crackling with emotion.

"Dick?"

The boy didn't wake up. At least not fully. Bruce watched as his prone ward shifted uncomfortably. His fingers twitched, his lips curled, his eyes cinched shut and moved under his lids rapidly, even small moans escaped his lips.

He was having a nightmare.

Bruce stood from the chair and took the boy's hand and held it gently around the IV tubes.

"It's okay, Dick, you're safe."

But Dick whimpered and started to breathe erratically, upset by the nasty vision he was seeing in his mind, clearly traumatized by something unseen. His breathing mask fogged up with each exhale.

"Da... d-daa-ad?"

At that one word, Bruce gripped his hand tighter with both hands, his heart aching for his boy. He pursed his lips before taking a shaky breath, speaking as calmly as he could while he sympathized with the boy.

"It's just a dream, son, it's okay. Just breathe. You're safe", he swallowed a lump in his throat and whispered brokenly, caring, "I'm here."

Eventually Dick slowed his breathing and relaxed his body, but didn't open his eyes. He was back asleep, albeit restless.

Bruce sighed and sat back down, still holding his son's hand. He wasn't waking up, but it was something. It was a reaction. It was something to go on. Leslie said he wasn't out of the woods yet, so he knew it was going to be rough, but at least it was a good sign.

Nearly 24 hours after the night before began with the initial high-rise stakeout, Dick stirred again. This time, a quiet groan escaped his lips.

Bruce bolted up and leaned forward, watching as the boy's eyes fluttered. Seeking and searching, he waited with bated breath. And there, his hand moved. And his eyes.

"Dick? Dick, can you hear me?"

A small murmur of discomfort released from the teen's lips, causing a hitch in Bruce's heart. Turning over his shoulder, he yelled for Leslie to come into the room, that he was waking up, before returning his attention back to the black-haired boy.

"Dick? Hey, kiddo, can you wake up for me? Please?"

And just like that, the boy's eyes opened, cracking slightly. The Boy Wonder was obviously very disoriented and confused as he looked around, unfocused. Bruce leaned forward, his face was wary but hopeful.

"Dick, it's me. It's Bruce. Can you see me?"

Dick Grayson's head turned slowly and tried to focus his bright yet listless blues on Bruce. He took a big gulp and croaked a very broken response of "Bru-Bruuce?" before stiffening in pain.

Wayne held his hand, feeling tears rise behind his eyes. He took a big swallow to hide the tight lump in his throat and smiled roughly, cautiously.

"You're okay, son. Everything is okay... I'm here."

Grayson blinked slowly, but just as Leslie busted into the room, the heaviness in the injured boy's lids claimed his consciousness once more, sending him back to sleep. Bruce exhaled and closed his own eyes, finally feeling for the first time like Dick was going to be alright.

A full day had passed again.

"Uuunnggg... Nnnggg..."

Dick Grayson strained and struggled against the stabbing light in the room, pinching his face tight as the brightness impaled his eyes. After some time, he tried to pry them open to look around, trying to regain his senses, but immediately shut them in pain. He tried breathing deeply, but a pull in his chest warned him that wasn't a good idea. He couldn't pinpoint the pain: it felt like it was radiating all over. His head, his gut, his arms, even his back. Wincing harshly, he seethed through his teeth at all the throbbing and stabbing.

Then he heard a voice, muffled but very near to him. Like en echo chamber bouncing off the walls in a padded, cotton ball room. Or maybe the cotton walls were in his ears? He wasn't sure. Slowly, he tried to make sense and focus in, finally hearing the voice clearly.

"Dick. Can you hear me?"

Dick opened his bloodshot blues and refocused on his left, seeing his partner and mentor leaning over him. The boy smacked his lips against the cotton mouth and tried to regulate his breathing without discomfort. Blinking twice, he garnered enough strength to whisper back.

"Bru... Bru-uce? Wha-"

His breath hitched again with a pull of pain in his chest, shutting down his question.

"Take it easy, just relax. You're in Leslie's clinic now. It's okay, you're safe."

Dick tried to remember what happened, but it was fuzzy. Everything was fuzzy. The room around him, his memory, his hearing, all of it. Again, he tried to form words.

"What... Wha' hap'nd?"

"You were...", Bruce pursed his lips, the pain of the memory coming back. He took a deep, shaky breath as it hit home to say it out loud, "You were shot."

That wasn't what he was expecting, not by a long shot, but judging by the heaviness in his chest, the obstructive mask on his face, and the incessant sounds of beeping around him, he figured it must be true. Dick blinked slowly, swallowing hard. He furrowed his brow, confused.

"Sh-shot?"

"You're safe now. You're going to...", Bruce nodded mostly to himself, struggling to not lose it, "You're going to be okay..."

It was a few moments later when the injured boy heard two words that made him question everything; two words he never anticipated hearing any time soon.

"I'm sorry."

Grayson was puzzled at the man's words. Slowly, he gathered more strength to pry.

"Huh?"

Bruce nodded, lifting his blues to Dick's exhausted pale face. He noticed the older man's eyes were watery and bloodshot, as if he were crying before this. His mentor's voice croaked, his tone low and every bit as emotional as he felt.

"Yes, I'm... I'm so sorry, Dick. I shouldn't have ke-", Wayne cut himself off when his voice failed, breathing evenly to gather himself again. Bruce sat on the edge of the bed, holding Dick's hand in his own trembling one, "I shouldn't have kept you in the dark. I shouldn't have hid what was happening from you. This is... all my fault."

Dick blinked twice again, hearing the apology. It all came back to him in a flash flood. The stake out. Billy Marin. Tony Zucco. Tracking down the Batmobile. The rageful outburst. The fact that he nearly sent the murderer over the edge of the pier if not for his partner. The way Batman stopped him. His own words of - his words. Those nasty words. The spiteful, ignorant, hateful accusation he threw back at Bruce as he let his own emotions get the best of him. The boy in the bed exhaled heavily, shaking his head slightly as he felt remorse rise in him.

"No... 'm sorry. S-s'rry for wha'... I said to y-you.", Dick swallowed hard and coughed once, wincing at the pull in his chest and the excruciating headache, "Sh-shdn't've said tha'... Y-you were right... f'not bringing me 'long... Y'knew I'd... take it t-too... p'rsn'lly.", he was easily winded, so his voice was faltering rather quickly and his words were as heavy and slurred as his drooping eyelids.

Bruce gripped his hand tighter, listening as Dick tried to blame himself. The older man shook his head and denied it vehemently, knowing the truth.

"No. No, Dick. That wasn't it. That wasn't it at all."

The younger boy watched his mentor, his guardian, his partner... his father-figure... pause, deep in thought, before continuing.

"Zucco's taken so much... caused you so much pain. I couldn't stand the thought that he might ta-"

Dick observed as Bruce closed his eyes for a moment, a very clear internal struggle between his heart and his words. It had been a long time since he'd heard the older man so open and vulnerable. He waited, watching as the older man took a steadying breath before opening his eyes that flooded with tears, training them down on him, the cracks in his armor opening wide, showing his true emotions.

"I couldn't stand the thought that he might... take you, too.", his breath shuddered as one tear fell from his eyes that threatened to crumble, "And he almost did... He almost took you from me".

So that was it. It wasn't about the wronged young man taking things too far, taking things too personally, acting on pure vengeful hate. It was the very real fact that Bruce cared enough about Dick that he was scared Tony Zucco would end him, too.

And it nearly happened.

The Boy Wonder, covered in bandages and gauze, wires and tubes, and a breathing mask, felt his chest swell up at the realization that the man in front of him didn't want him involved in the case not due to a lack of trust but an overwhelming sense of love.

Dick's eyes watered, as well. His pursed lips trembled and his face felt hot, aware of the frightening reality that he was nearly taken from this world. From his friends. Alfred... Bruce. Sniffling, he nodded curtly.

"... 'm sorry..."

Bruce let out a strangled short laugh at the exhausted boy's whimpered apology. He reached one shaky hand up and ruffled the boy's hair before moving it down to cup the side of Dick's face, holding his cheek gingerly and carefully around the mask, as he himself sniffed back his emotions. A wide smile cracked his face.

"It's okay, Dick... You scared me to death, but...", he exhaled heavily as a weight fell off his shoulders, his low voice gaining strength the more he was content with the realization that all was going to be better from now on, "You're going to be okay."

Neither one of the men paid any mind to Dr. Thompkins who stood comfortably in the doorway, awaiting her turn to check on her patient, to allow them their privacy. With a warm smile, she watched over as both her boys healed... a father relieved his son would be okay.

****

It was a dark and gloomy night, one would consider the most normal of nights in Gotham City. There was a slight nip in the air; not one to cause you to freeze instantaneously or notice as soon as you stepped out the door, but if you remained outside long enough it would give you a bone-chilling discomfort you would need a long, hot shower and a warm fire to shake loose.

Commissioner Gordon checked his watch for the tenth time. Sighing, he glanced back up at the skyline that glowed from the illustrious Bat Signal next to him. He had been waiting for a good twenty minutes at this point, and he was ready to give up when a booming yet hushed voice spoke up behind him.

"You have something?"

"I was wondering when you'd show.", Gordon turned around, his hands in his pockets.

Batman stalked forward, his cape around his body.

"Sorry."

That made the white-haired man blink. Scoffing humorously, he scratched his chin at the apology.

"Sorry? Man, you must be slipping... Everything okay?"

"What do you have?"

True to business, as always. Pulling out a stack of pictures and evidence, he handed it over to the Bat.

"Word has it Penguin is up to no good."

"... he's still in Arkham."

"Yes. But, his IceBerg Lounge has been closed down for repairs for a week. Not necessarily out of the ordinary, but while that's going on he's been kinda restless in Arkham. Not just that, but deliveries in and out of his cell. Visitors nonstop. And the shipments he's getting into the Lounge? Weird."

"Did anyone stop by and check it?"

"That's what we were hoping you'd do.", Gordon pointed to him with a smirk, "If you're up for it."

Batman glanced at the photos once more, silently staring at them. Jim noticed an odd look in the white slits of his cowl, the posture of his shoulders. He was more closed off than usual. But, before he could say anything about it, the Bat handed back the photos and turned without a word.

Gordon pressed his luck.

"Batman? Are you okay?"

No response

Then, Gordon went on... prying.

"How's Robin?"

This time the Caped Crusader stopped in his tracks, but didn't turn around. After a few seconds, the gruff voice sounded, barely audible, but as curt and tight-lipped as ever.

"He's fine."

The Commissioner walked over a few steps, clearly trying to make conversation. He let out a big puff of air, preparing to have this discussion. He knew something was up, and he wanted to know. Scratching his hair, he pressed.

"Look, um... I know something happened. You know, that night on the pier. With Zucco. If you want to talk about it, I'm-"

"He's fine."

Gordon took a beat, then lowered his voice, but not in a judgmental way; simply caring and empathetic.

"There was blood... a lot of it... and it wasn't Zucco's."

That did it. Gordon saw a hitch in the other man's shoulders. A stiffening that indicated he must have hit the nail on the head. Something happened that night and it wasn't good. The police commissioner saw the way the Dark Knight carried Robin on the bike, even if no one else noticed. Truth was, they all saw it. The police force has been talking about it nonstop. They hadn't seen the Boy Wonder out on the streets in a week, and only the Caped Crusader since a few days ago.

"Hey, you don't want to talk about it, I get it, but don't play dumb with me.", Jim leveled with the Bat, coming closer. "We heard shots fired, which prompted Lieutenant Anderson to fire on Zucco. And how you carried that boy out of there on that motorcycle like a crack of... well... We're detectives, Batman, we can put two and two together."

No response

Then, he came forward further and lifted a tired hand, placing it on the caped man's shoulders. Gordon could feel a stiffness, an uncomfortable tightness, and dare he say even a shudder. He could tell the Dark Knight was holding back, keeping in a terrible atrocity and a weight on his shoulders... and in his heart. The police officer sighed nasally, feeling for the man terribly, sympathetically.

"Look, I, uh. I understand... Believe me, I do...", he shook his head as a thought came to mind, "If anything happened to my daughter, I'd unload my mag straight into his chest and rip off his-"

The Commissioner pursed his lips to cut off his verbal rampage. Relaxing, Gordon cleared his throat and took another steadying breath. He squeezed the man's shoulders tighter, allowing himself to open up kindly.

"Robin's like a son to this department. Like my own grandson if I had one.", he chuckled lightly, "Boy, that kid can light up a room and make you want to lose your mind all at the same time."

No response... At least verbally. Jim felt a subtle shake of the Dark Knight's body, like he was thinking the same. Sighing again, he went on, soft and caring, like he was trying to help the caped man carry his burden.

"So, um... Just let him know we're thinking of him, okay?", he paused, "And you. If either of you need anything, just let us know."

It was quiet for a moment, with again, no surprise, no response. Gordon lowered his hand and shoved both in his pockets, but just as he began to turn around and walk away, he heard a small voice that was once again barely audible. But this time, he could hear the true, raw emotion shine through.

"Thank you, Jim."

Giving a small smile over his shoulder, he nodded to the Dark Knight. Although, he wasn't done.

"Oh, and thank you...", he continued, "For taking down Zucco. We had no idea he was hiding out back in town. But, I can tell you one thing, you made one family very relieved to hear the news he was finally taken into custody. I know you remember what Zucco did all those years ago, so thank you and Robin both for helping wrap up a nasty chapter in that poor boy's life. His family appreciates it."

Family

The Dark Knight lifted his head to the night sky, knowing how it felt when he received the phone call that first afternoon from Gordon himself that Anthony Zucco was apprehended. The bullet didn't kill him, but he was taken in and locked up in BlackGate, awaiting trial. Word was he was up for life, no parole. Bruce Wayne was beyond elated to put the past to rest, even if it cost him a tremendous price to get the job done, both physically and emotionally.

Family

Even though that night had worn on him and Dick, they could rest easy now that Tony Zucco was finally behind bars... and their family could have some peace.

Because that's what they were... a family...

"You're welcome.", was all he found himself muttering before storming off into the night.

Jim Gordon watched the Caped Crusader fly away, soaring off into the night. After a few moments, he turned and shut off the spotlight, shoved his hands back into his pocket, and went down the stairs to make himself another cup of coffee... it was going to be a long night.

Chapter Text

"Man, I'm tellin' ya, you gotta try it!"

"Yyyeaaaah, hard pass. As great as that sounds, I think I'd make them all look like stick figures."

"Suit yourself. More for me then."

Dick watched as his friend reached inside his pocket, pulled out a black comb, and swished back his hair in one suave motion, smoothing down the curly locks only for them to spring back into place. His friend, Paul McGruber, was a college sophomore, a whole year older than Dick. The strong athletic type, Paul was up for any kind of activity that involved either sports, drinking, or girls... preferably all at the same time, admittedly. The tall brown-haired jock reveled in attention, something Dick himself wasn't quite fond of. Granted, being a former circus star he was born into it and excelled in it naturally, being able to hold cordial and intuitive conversations like a pro with any stranger or possess no bout of stage fright whatsoever, but he'd learned to give up the daytime spotlight for something a bit more... discreet.

Unless you actually take a look at the flashing red, green, and yellow. Then you'd call Dick Grayson a liar.

It was a beautiful day for walking outside along the inner pathways of the Gotham University campus, no umbrella needed. Dick and Paul were on their way to their next classes, one of them sorely more interested in the anatomy of the females in his figure drawing class than the other boy's schedule, so he was sure to let his friend know.

Paul fake gagged, thumbing into his mouth, "Ugh, science? Dude.."

Dick laughed and slung his backpack further onto his shoulder, "Forensic science, to be specific. In fact, I think it's super cool and interesting. Really fun!"

The brunette deadpanned his contrasting disinterest, then gave a shrug, "If you think so. Give me the arts any day." Then he grinned, "Today we're moving onto nudes!"

Dick rolled his eyes.

"Hey! Wait up!"

Both young men turned and saw another figure running up to them, their other friend Steve. The blonde man waved them down, making the other two stop and wait. Steve Johnson caught up rather quickly, not one bit out of breath.

"Hey Steve, how's it going?" Dick politely asked. Steve cackled and slapped him on the back, nearly lurching him forward with surprise.

"Fantastic! Couldn't be better! So, you two going to the party this weekend?"

Paul smiled and nodded, "Heck yeah!" Then he realized his faux pas and turned to Dick, "Oh right, Dick, I forgot to tell you. The Kappas are throwing a big blow out Saturday night. Gonna be a ton of people there. Tons of girls!"

The black-haired boy chuckled and crossed his arms, giving his friend a knowing, teasing look, "Let me guess, you're gonna draw some of them?" Paul snickered at the comment, but Dick went on regretfully, "Actually, I have something big this weekend. With Bruce. So, I'm gonna pass on this one, but–"

"Boooooo!"

"Aww, come on!"

Dick laughed and tried to calm down their tirade of disapproval, pumping the brakes with his hands.

"Hey, I'll catch the next one, I promise! You guys have fun."

"You're lame." Steve gave a thumbs down, then sighed, "But I get it. No worries."

Paul gasped and clung to his chest, "No worries? No worries?! Big worries! Come on, when's the last time you came out to a party, Dicky boy? You're always doing something with your old man."

Even though the 'old man' comment made him laugh on the inside, Dick hummed to himself as he truly considered the last time he went to one of their parties. After a few seconds, he gave up and shrugged, "I guess it has been a while." Then seeing their puppy dog faces, he couldn't help but laugh out loud, "Okay, okay, let me see what I can do. Fair?"

"YES!" Both boys gave the other a high-five, shouting with excitement.

However, Paul's joy shifted to shock as he checked his watch, "Oh shoot! Hey, class starts in a few minutes and I gotta make sure I get front row. Can't have my view of my beauty queen blocked by some knucklehead. Catch ya guys later!"

Dick once again rolled his eyes at the over-eager man who took every opportunity to ogle the female species, but waved anyway. He turned with the newcomer, Steve, and walked on their own path to class.

Steve Johnson was just as much of a jock as Paul, but with his bleach blonde hair, piercing green eyes, tanned skin, and snowy white smile he was the epitome of Homecoming King if there ever was one. Furthermore, he was just as much of a party animal as Paul, but less so in the womanizing department. Pity, Paul would tease, Steve could have any girl he wanted. He had the looks for it... only for Dick to point out that it's more than just looks that gets the girls.

"Ready to go solve some of the world's biggest problems?" Steve sarcastically asked the other man, slinging an arm around his shoulder. Dick smirked.

"If you count the problems of figuring out how to totally avoid Professor Dungan's incessant questioning, then yes."

A short time later, Dick and Steve were both seated in their spaces for the calculus lecture, ready and prepared for the next hour and a half of numbers and equations and how to avoid participation. Except, when Dick looked over to the seat next to him, he noticed that it was empty once again. Frowning, he turned to his left.

"Hey, Steve. Where's Ethan? He hasn't been here for days."

The blonde man looked over at the empty seat and shrugged, "I don't know. He didn't say anything. Maybe last-minute vacation?"

Grayson was puzzled at the odd disappearance of their other friend, Ethan, who hadn't been in class all week thus far. But, instead, he tried to refocus on his classwork. Later on, though, their professor called Dick and Steve over to his desk just as class had ended.

"Mr. Grayson, Mr. Johnson, could you please pass on my message of well-being to Mr. Cartwright? I do hope whatever illness he caught clears up soon and he can return to class."

Dick was confused, "Oh, um... We will. Did he say he was sick?"

"Yeah, we haven't heard anything," Steve added.

Professor Dungan sighed and muddled about his desk, stacking papers, "Unfortunately, I haven't heard anything official either. I was just assuming. Either way, would you pass it along?"

Steve and Dick shared a look, just as puzzled, but acknowledged that they would. However, as they were walking out the door, the black-haired hero couldn't help but feel more unsettled by the whole ordeal. Ethan Cartwright, their most personable, honest, and trustworthy friend, one that went out of his way to keep his friends and family in the loop of whatever he was doing, was most definitely out of character by not only skipping class, being silent and mysterious about it.

Definitely out of character, Dick mused worriedly.

Later that evening, the Boy Wonder and Dark Knight were busy sparring, practicing their mixed martial arts moves and warming up for the evening of patrol.

Just as they finished, Bruce smiled over to his ward, "Good work." Then he frowned and turned to the boy, "You seem distracted. Everything okay?"

Dick exhaled and wiped the sweat off his forehead, "Sorry, um... Yeah, it's just that my friend hasn't been in class all week. We don't know where he is. The professor thinks he might be sick, but we just don't know."

Bruce took a swig of water, "Did you try calling him?"

"Yeah, but no answer. Even his parents didn't answer. It's just... weird, ya know?"

His guardian agreed, but didn't give more than a nod. Bruce walked over to the console and typed a few buttons, then looked back over his shoulder to the boy who was still deep in thought, "Well, are you focused enough to go out tonight?"

Dick looked up at that, seeing his partner's questioning gaze. He smiled and nodded, "Yeah, I'm good for that."

****

Over the next two days, there was still no sign of Ethan. Dick was getting worried. It definitely was unlike his conscientious friend to completely ignore phone calls or even visits to his house, with no contact whatsoever explaining his absences. It was odd, to say the least, and deeply concerning to say the most.

So much so that Dick was zoned out enough, even in the large group of party-goers at the Kappa house, that he didn't hear his name being called three times.

"Hey, Grayson! You have a hearing problem?"

Lifting his head, he saw the beautiful and fiery redhead that gave him a run for his money every time they talked. He smiled as she walked up to him through the crowd.

"Hey, Barbara. What's up?"

Barbara Gordon shrugged and sighed, glancing over her shoulders. She also appeared perturbed, Dick noted.

"Hey, have you seen Steve?"

Dick knew that she had a crush on the blonde jock, even if she didn't admit it as much, so he just chuckled teasingly.

"Steve? Actually, I just–" but then he paused, a thought coming to him that made him frown, "... you know what? I haven't. I mean, I thought I saw him, but I came here with Paul."

It was true. Dick had class with Steve all week, but he realized that he hadn't seen him since Calculus Thursday afternoon. He didn't even get a phone call from the guy that he wasn't attending the party he so exuberantly tried to get him to attend. So, here Dick was with Steve nowhere to be seen.

Barbara frowned, "Huh, really? That's odd..." she mimicked the black-haired boy's thoughts, "We were supposed to get lunch tomorrow and I wanted to ask him about it."

Brushing off the worry for half a second, Dick smirked down at the redhead and swirled his drink coyly, "Ahhh, like a date, Miss Gordon?"

"No, not like a date..." she teasingly whacked his arm, nearly spilling his drink. But, when she saw Dick's growing grin and waggling eyes, she couldn't help a half-smile grow on her own face, "At least not official."

Dick laughed and crossed his arms, but then grew more serious, "Well, when I see him I'll pass on that you're still interested. Can't have a pretty lady like you going date-less."

Babs smacked him again, causing him to laugh even harder and fully spill his drink, "Says you, rich boy. What about Cindy? You two still, ya know, hanging out?"

Grayson sighed, his attitude deflating somewhat. Not in a sad manner, per say, but more of a calm resigned indifference. The bubbly blonde girl had crept into his life and had become fairly close to him, but only surface level. Messing around was one thing, but it wasn't turning into the relationship he had hoped for.

"Eh... not exactly," he admitted, setting down his empty cup on the table nearby, "But it's okay. Maybe someday the right woman'll come along that can keep up with this." He gave a cocky grin and thumbed to himself.

Babs rolled her eyes at the goofiness and huffed sarcastically, "Good luck... You'll be waiting a while."

"You know what, Gordon?", Dick brightly shouted after her as she turned to walk away into the crowd, "I'll take that as a compliment!"

"You can take it whatever way you like, champ," the redhead slung a teasing remark back over her shoulder before disappearing around the kitchen corner.

Dick watched as she left, smiling proudly to himself that he was able to best her in a comeback, but as soon as the prideful feeling came it went, only lasting for a fleeting moment. Truth was, he was starting to feel a churning in his gut each time the Commissioner's daughter was near; something that made him question their simple friendship each time he interacted with the redhead... Maybe someday he would say something... Someday.

However, her words rang in his head once again. Steve hasn't been seen for over a day, without any contact or trace... Just like Ethan, Dick mused uncomfortably... It had to be a coincidence. It had to be...

****

Ten days. Ethan had been missing for ten days. Steve hadn't been seen or heard from since Thursday.

It was disconcerting, to say the least, something Dick kept in the back of his mind while doing his best to not keep it from interfering with his nightly duties. He tried to pass it off as a coincidence, but couldn't help but think it wasn't.

Monday evening, the news was on in the living room, as always. Dick and Bruce were sharing the space, as always. The younger was studying for an upcoming exam while he stayed home for the Fall Break, his books and papers spread out along the table as he sat curled up in a chair, one open on his lap... the older situated with a newspaper in his hands, a cup of coffee to his right.

The anchor on the television spoke:

"And in other news, the tally for missing college students has reached four."

Dick's eyes curiously glanced up from his notes.

"Since last Tuesday, several prominent family members in Gotham's societal elite have reported children missing, starting with Ethan Cartwright, aged 18", a photo of the young, black-haired freshman smiling popped up, "who has not been seen by peers or family members for nearly two weeks. 18-year-old Steve Johnson", again, a new photo of the blonde displayed, "has been marked as missing by his parents since Thursday evening when he failed to contact them with his whereabouts. But just today, the count doubled when the McGruber family reported their 19-year-old twin sons Paul and Tyler", two more photos of identical boys, "are missing, as well, with no correspondence to their location."

Dick gasped and sat straight up, his book dropping from his lap, "Wait, what?"

Bruce became alert when his ward was startled by the news, setting down his paper in his lap. Tuning in, he listened to the rest of the broadcast.

"It must be reiterated, Sasha," another anchor announced, most likely an opinion-panel pundit, just there for added effect, "That each of these families holds an incredible financial impact in Gotham City and surroundings areas, surpassing a net amount into the billions," the reporter cleared his throat, "So they are not beyond taking whatever steps necessary to ensure their sons' discovery, including providing a fitting reward to anyone who has any information for their safe return."

"That is correct, John," the first anchor, Sasha, took back over, "Their whereabouts and causes of disappearance are not known. If anyone has any word on the location of any of these missing young men, you are asked to contact the police department immediately."

John then segued into the Gotham Knights win last night...

"Something wrong?" Bruce questioned when the report was over, seeing Dick's still gaping mouth and wide eyes. The younger man scoffed and pointed, looking over at Bruce.

"Heck yeah! Those are friends of mine, some of them I have class with. Ethan is the guy I was worried about the last couple weeks. He still hasn't shown up. And Steve hasn't contacted anyone in four days. Now these ones? I've never met Tyler, but Paul's another one of my good friends! What's going on? Why are all these guys missing!?"

Wayne watched as Dick grew more upset by the second, seeing how worried and bothered he was. He nodded and stood, "That is concerning..." He let the newspaper fall onto the table and tilted his head for the other to follow, "Come on. Let's talk to Gordon tonight. See if he knows anything."

****

An hour later, Commissioner Gordon unfortunately didn't give any answers that satisfied the Dynamic Duo's inquiry.

"Something fishy is going on, Batman," he stroked his beard, "We originally thought we had some leads on the Cartwright kid, but it hasn't working so well."

Batman went on, "Any ransoms?"

Gordon shrugs, "No, no notes. At least none that showed up on our doorstep. Although, we have our theories. The closest thing to a pattern is that they're all from severely wealthy families. Tyler and Paul are brothers in the McGruber family. Their father, William McGruber is head developer in the TC Bio-engineering firm that does business with Tokyo and Belgium. The entire Johnson family runs an international shipping industry called Johnson Cargo Incorporated. They're responsible for over half the shipping lanes in the world, bringing in some serious dough. And the other boy's parents, Peter and Nina Cartwright, are both CFO and CEO of one of the largest pharmaceutical industries in the country. To put it bluntly, if you combine their finances they all have more money than God." He took a puff of his cigarette, "Makes you wonder, huh?"

It does, thought Batman. He couldn't help but give a reactionary side glance over to Robin, who was still staring off in the distance, deep in his own thoughts. Batman narrowed his eyes back to Gordon as an unsettling thought made him connect some invisible dots.

"So... let me get this straight... Young heirs to wealthy establishments are being kidnapped?"

Gordon sighed and shoved his free hand in his pocket, taking another drag from the cigarette, "Seems like it... At least that's the pattern we're seeing."

Now that caught Robin's attention, making him immediately turn to his partner. He could tell in Batman's voice what he was thinking, even if the gruff exterior didn't give it away. Robin's eyes widened slightly, as he also put two and two together.

"And what's even weirder is that they're all students at GU," Gordon went on, "Coincidence?"

"No... At least not from where I'm standing. Wealthy families that have children at the same university are being targeted and taken is not a coincidence."

Jim sighed and scratched the back of his neck, "Yeah, I was afraid you'd say that. We can't find the reason, though. They just ... vanished. Like I said, no ransom, no contacts, no nothing. The parents just reported them, but even they didn't seem that worried."

"Does anyone have any leads as to who took them?"

The Commissioner looked over at the Boy Wonder's quiet words. Looking down, he shook his head, "Not a one..."

After a few beats, Jim spoke back up and looked up to Batman and Robin...

"But I'll tell ya one thing, I–"

... who were gone...

Gordon exhaled heavily and shook his head, "Dang it... It was bad enough when it was just him. Now he's got the kid doing it..."

****

The Batcave was quiet... as quiet as it could be. Only the timid squeaking of flying mammals who hustled and bustled around the cave in search of nighttime snacks. It was as if they knew the largest of them all needed to focus.

"All four boys are students of Gotham University,"  Batman recounted the night's report as he typed away, pulling up photographs of the missing citizens, "All around the same age. All from families that have significant wealth and contributions to society. Most certainly not a coincidence," he stroked at his chin, "History would assume they're being used as some kind of blackmail, but there hasn't been any ransom yet, according to Gordon. No notes. No demands... Why?"

Robin, who was pacing behind him, stopped and looked over to Batman, his eyes wide as if something clicked in his brain.

"Hey! I have an idea. What if I go undercover and ask around, try to find some answers."

Batman didn't even bother to look at him as he continued to type, "Absolutely out of the question."

Scoffing, Dick argued back, "Oh come on! I can walk around that campus and easily get into places you can't."

Taking offense to that, Batman rotated and gave his ward a look, raising an eyebrow, "You do know who you're talking to, right?"

Robin would have found that funny if not for the seriousness of the moment. Rolling his eyes at the sarcastic remark, he went on.

"I meant as me, not as Robin." He removed his mask and thumbed to himself, "Dick Grayson can get around that campus during the day without causing suspicion. Come on, Bruce, let me do this. And hey, if I get taken, then you can –"

"No."

"Hear me out!" Robin pleaded, coming closer to the now irritable man, "You can track me! I'll keep a GPS on me. If anything happens–"

"NO."

"--I'm sure I'll be taken to where everyone else is and you can leap in and save the day like you always do."

"Dick, no, this is not up for debate." Batman rose to his full height, daring the younger man to continue, "You are not going to sacrifice yourself for–"

"Bruce, listen. Four people were taken. Vanished, without a trace. And they're all rich kids." He sighed, a more personal reason coming out, "Not to mention they're my friends... Seriously, you said it yourself: there's an obvious pattern, which means zero coincidence. Based on your logic, what's to say that I'm not gonna be the next one anyway?"

Batman's eyes narrowed, not wanting to consider that. Truth was, he was deeply concerned that was going to be the reality. It was on the forefront of his mind that Dick was going to be the next target. But, he lied.

"That's not something I want to consider at all."

Dick nodded, understanding. Pointing at the man, he countered otherwise, "Yeah, but you have... You have thought about it. I saw the look you gave Gordon. I heard it in your voice. I know you're worried, Bruce. You can't deny it."

Wayne, instead of replying, dropped his head and closed his eyes. Robin knew he got to him, knew he was right on the money. Sighing, Dick went on in a calmer, reasoning voice, knowing he hit the nail on the head.

"Look, if we get ahead of this and I start asking around, maybe we can get to the bottom of this faster than the police. I'll wear a tracker, I promise. You can trace me. IF I'm taken, you can still find me... And, if all works out, it'll lead to the other guys and whoever is behind this."

After a few moments of consideration, Batman lifted his head and stared at Dick. He saw the confidence. And he heard the reasoning. Dick was perfectly capable of taking care of himself; he had trained him to do as much. But the father figure in him was still worried. That being said, Batman reluctantly acknowledged, it was a unique opportunity they could use to their advantage. Bruce exhaled heavily and removed his cowl... then, as much as he didn't want to admit the younger man was right, he gave a curt nod.

"Okay... But we do this right. No unnecessary risks."

Dick grinned and agreed.

****

It wasn't as easy as he thought. To be real, Dick Grayson had hoped that as soon as the news broke that the boys were missing he would ask just a few people around campus if they knew anything and get a load of answers.

Wrong.

Monday was his first day of investigative work. And only in the first day, Dick made his way around the campus, casually and intermittently inquiring into different groups that he frequented or not whether anyone knew anything about any of the boys. He interviewed his professors, made small talk with randoms, and even pried into his friend's (lack of) knowledge on the whereabouts of Ethan, Steve, Paul and/or Tyler. Dick even sneakily crept into rooms and offices and poked around, trying to see if there was any documentation or anything. Granted, he wasn't sure what he was looking for, but any clue could help.

After the day was over, there was still nothing, which frustrated Dick more than anything.

"I don't get it."

He paced around in his Robin suit, taking off his gloves and his mask after an evening of routine patrol that ended in nothing more than a simple burglary of a local bakery.

Robin had commented that the bad guy really 'kneaded' some extra 'dough'...

Batman didn't like the joke...

"Surely I should have found something by now. It's like they just vanished without a trace. No one knows anything."

Bruce, now busying himself with removing his utility belt and cape, calmed him down, "It's okay, Dick. Either nothing else is happening, or whoever is responsible is laying low because they know people are on to them. It was all over the news. Just be careful you don't start seeming too obvious."

Dick grinned and thumbed to himself with his mask in his hand, "Hey, I'm the right kind of obvious. Think about it: I'm the ward of the richest guy in the city and a student of GU. And the same age as the others. Of course I'm gonna wanna know about students getting taken," he removed his shirt and cape and tossed them into the basket nearby, "I'm making it all about me, like I'm not concerned about others."

"But you are worried about others... which makes me worried about you."

Dick looked up and saw Batman's pointed glare; his mask was still on, but it did not hide any emotions. He smiled warmly and walked over, "Bruce, I'm fine. Tomorrow I'll ask around the art department if they've seen anything weird. That's where Paul hung out the most... for lots of reasons," he quipped dryly before continuing confidently, "Don't worry. I'll still have my tracker watch on", he lifted his hand and showed Bruce, "It's all good."

The Dark Knight was silent, but as he watched Dick disappear upstairs to shower and turn in for the night, he sighed and took off his cowl and spoke to the other presence in the cave.

"I can't help but think this isn't going to go well."

Alfred Pennyworth raised his eyebrow without pausing his dusting, "Yet you still permit him to do this."

To that, Bruce could help but grow a small mirthful smirk as he turned back to his butler, "Permitting isn't exactly the right word, Alfred. Dick is an adult. He'd be doing his own investigating whether I 'permit' him or not."

Nodding in agreement, picturing the other times that happened just as much, Alfred went on, "As he's proven that true on multiple occasions..."

The other man was right. Dick would have no problem sneaking out to help his friends, regardless of any sort of permission from either of the other men, uniform or no uniform. Padding back over to his console seat, Bruce still couldn't help but feel a pit in his stomach that something was going to go wrong...

****

The next day Dick exited his Chemistry class, preparing to walk into the art department's main building. He figured someone in the figure drawing class Paul frequently spoke about in high regard (for perhaps the wrong reasons) should know something. Walking up to a girl who was seated on a bench reading a book outside the building, Dick cleared his throat.

"Hey, um... Sorry to interrupt, but my name's Dick Grayson. Could I ask you a question?"

The girl looked up and smiled, "Sure", then blushed and closed her book, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear, "Aaaand I know who you are, by the way. I'm Stacey."

"Oh, right... Sooo, Stacey," Dick scratched at the back of his neck, feeling the awkward gaze of the girl's obvious flirty eyes, "Do, uh, do you know a Paul McGruber? Or his brother, Tyler? Maybe even Ethan Cartwright or Steve Johnson? Just curious..."

Perking up at the names, Stacey stood and nodded, "Oh yeah, I know Ethan and Paul. I heard they were missing. Paul's in my figure drawing class. And, Ethan is actually in my business finance class, too," Then she lit up even wider, "Oh wait, there he is!"

At first, Dick didn't know which boy she was referring to, but when he turned and looked, he couldn't hold in his shock. His mouth gaped at the sight of none other than Ethan Cartwright strolling up, books in hand, a bright smile on his face, as if he held no worry or care in the world.

"Ethan?!" Dick gasped.

Ethan's cheerful and bubbly laughter hit the black-haired boy's ears, enough to make him blink in disbelief. The missing boy – now found, apparently– strolled over and placed an arm around the girl's shoulders.

"Hey, Stacey! Oh, hey Dick! How's it going?"

Now, Ethan had been missing for nearly two weeks. And now here he was, unannounced, undeterred, unaffected, and has the nerve to ask 'how's it going?!' The hero blinked again, cautiously not sure what to expect.

"Uuuhhh... Ethan? Where have you been!?"

"Yeah, you've been missing for two weeks!!"

Ethan sighed sappily, bringing Stacey in closer, "Missing? Ha, more like FOUND!"

Dick and Stacey were both confused, even if Dick was the one to show it more openly. He blanked and stared between the two, unashamedly puzzled.

"Come again?"

Ethan laughed and threw his arms in the air, "Yes! Totally! The thing is, I really haven't been missing. Ya see, I've been in this new therapy."

"Therapy?" Even Stacey questioned, but not as deliriously worried as the other man. Ethan nodded, beaming.

"Yeah! Guys, I tell ya it's amazing. So peaceful. So relaxing. Picture it: I was out in the wilderness, like talking to the trees and stuff..."

"Talking to... trees?" Dick slowly questioned dubiously.

"Yeah! I guess all I needed was to ground myself and put down some roots in my brain," Ethan touched his head, then his chest, "And my heart... I used to be all sour and rotten and wilted, my attitude on life so brown, but now? It's like I turned over a new leaf. I feel so green! Amazing!" He gave a bashful chuckle, "Sorry I couldn't talk about it. It was kind of hush hush. I couldn't even tell my parents. But now I'm back and I'm happier than ever!"

Dick watched him stare off into the sky, his mind elsewhere, like he was taking a meditative trip. Then, Ethan looked back to them, his smile never leaving his face.

"Well, anyway, I gotta get to class. Got a lot of work to catch up on. Later!"

As the no-longer-missing college student left with a funky kick in his step like he was borderline skipping, Dick and Stacey couldn't help but stare after him. They were both completely blown away by his nonchalant attitude towards being missing for nearly two weeks.... Although according to him, not missing... Just in therapy.

"Ooookaaaaay," Dick scratched his head, super weirded out, "I... guess he's okay?"

However, instead of agreeing, Stacey made one observation, "Well, that was kinda odd... You'd think he turned into a tree or something."

The black-haired boy looked over at her, seeing her annoyed face, "What do you mean?"

Stacey shrugged and gestured towards Ethan, somewhat irritated with his attitude, "All the nature puns he made. He disappears for two weeks, doesn't tell anyone, and then talks like that? It's like you'd think he turned into a tree or something," then huffed and turned with her books in her hand, "Well, anyway, nice meeting you Dick. Officially, anyway."

Grayson froze, taking in her words. It was interesting, and odd, for sure. The comparisons, the word choices... 'new leaf', roots, wilted, green... It was enough to make you question. Sparing a scrutinizing glance back at Ethan who was still walking away, high-fiving everyone that came into contact, he couldn't help but be even more confused than if Ethan had still remained missing.

"Yeaaaaah... odd..."

****

"You think it's Ivy?"

Batman typed away at the computer, hearing his ward's suggestion, "Possibly... Judging by how you said Ethan described his little 'therapy', it would be right up her alley."

Dick, dressed in street clothes, sitting cross-legged on a table nearby, nodded. He couldn't keep the puzzled frown from showing on his face, "He did give way too many nature and plant metaphors... Way too weird to let go," he looked up at Batman who had now stood, "Remember when Alfred and his girlfriend Maggie had that problem with her? When they were turned into trees with her youth serum?"

Alfred, who was polishing some batarangs off to the side, shuddered, "Do not remind me, young sir."

Dick went on as Batman walked past him, "What if she's doing it again, but with college students? What if she's taking them for experiments or something?"

It was enough to make Batman pause. He finished putting on his cowl and considered the words. Eventually, he sighed and nodded.

"I wouldn't be surprised... And with their connection to that much money, there is most likely an underlying motive for these boys to go missing. Good work."

Dick beamed at the praise. Then, he stood and gestured to the stairs, "Oh, I said I'd go to a party tonight. Apparently Ethan's gonna be there. I want to see if I can get more info from him. Maybe he knows something else about the other missing guys, too."

Batman attached his utility belt and pointed at his ward, "If Ivy really is involved, you need to be on guard. Don't take any unnecessary chances."

"No worries, Bruce," the young man hopped off the table and saluted with a wry grin, "I got this handled, you can trust me. Besides, if anything happens, I know what to do."

****

Later on at the party, Dick walked in with his roommate Bryan. The house was enormous, a well-established fraternity on campus that held enough room for nearly fifteen occupants. A massive crowd had already settled in, ensuring that Dick and Bryan were not the first ones to arrive. Bryan excused himself from Dick, saying he wanted to go talk to some of his football teammates he saw standing by the food. So after Dick smiled and waved him on, he took to his own mission: find Ethan and grill him for more information.

Sure enough, there he was.

Ethan Cartwright stood by the music box, a drink in his hand, with two other guys on the rugby team. The three of them were talking and laughing, obviously deep in some kind of inside joke.

But, getting to the kindhearted rugby player proved to be more difficult than he thought... As the night went on, Dick tried to talk to Ethan, but he kept getting interrupted. A girl would appear on either of his shoulders, a drink or three shoved into his face, or he would be bumped and knocked out of his path and into another room.

Just when he was becoming more frustrated, Dick felt another drink shoved into his hand. He didn't want to drink: not because he hadn't had any, he most certainly had a drink or several before, but he knew he had to be on his game tonight. If Poison Ivy truly was involved, he couldn't risk being unfocused.

Dick took the drink to keep up appearances – mostly because he was getting sick and tired of people shoving drinks in his hands. However, even though he felt irritated at having it in his hand, he took one look at the liquid and realized it didn't look like beer or liquor, as per all college parties. It was a greenish color, and even held a strange odor. Like a juice of some sort. Sniffing at it, Dick wrinkled his nose at the scent.

"Huh..." he mused, mumbling under his breath, "What is this?"

And furthermore, who actually put this in my hand?

"Heeeey it's Dick Grayson! So glad you're here!"

Dick spun and saw Ethan Cartwright strutting over, his arms wide and welcoming as his grin. The hero-by-night who had been trying to get his attention since he walked through the door grinned appropriately.

"Hey Ethan. Yeah, this is some party. You having fun?" he played along, hoping to get the boy to stay nearby.

"You bet!" Ethan wrapped an arm around Dick's shoulders, pulling him for a half a hug. Seeing the drink in his hand, he gasped happily, "Cool! You're having one, too! Sweet!"

Studying the drink in Ethan's hand, Dick noticed it was the same as his. But before Dick tried to say anything else, another voice in the room cut through.

"Yooooo! Dicky!"

At this point, Dick thought he was seeing things. His eyes bugged out at the sight of the blonde jock, "Steve!? What in... Where have you been?! You've been missing, too!"

Steve Johnson laughed and slapped the black-haired boy on the back, nearly spilling his drink, "Not missing: Found!"

Dick straightened up and raised an eyebrow at the deja vu, "Found, huh?... Let me guess, Therapy? Like Ethan's?"

The blonde jock nodded emphatically, "Yeah! Exactly that! Ethan's the one that got us into it. So relaxing. Like we just blossomed into a new person."

Curious, Grayson thought to himself. Seriously skeptical about the word choice, he mumbled under his breath, "Blossomed... Uuuuh huh..."

Then Steve closed the gap to Dick, placing an elbow on his shoulder, "So, I gotta say, we're actually really glad you're here."

"Yeah" Ethan agreed, just as eager, "We really gotta show you something."

Initially, Dick wasn't quite sure what they wanted to show him. Suspiciously, he looked between the two grinning men.

"What is it?"

Steve's smile grew, but in a way that didn't quite put Dick at ease, "You'll see."

"Come on. It's this way," Ethan dragged the confused boy along with him, being just as cryptic.

After a few steps, Dick followed on his own as Steve went on ahead to open the door to a stairwell. Clearly, it led to the basement. Dick took one look into the abyss and questioned everything. But, he was also on an investigative mission, so he went along with it.

Walking inside and down the steps behind Steve, Ethan following in the rear, Dick glanced around at the darkness. Then, when the single bulb light above turned on, he saw they were in a regular looking basement. Nothing out of the ordinary. It was empty with only a few boxes here and there... Nothing special.

Something doesn't seem right... Better keep an eye out.

"Uuumm... So what did you want me to see?" he called out skeptically as his eyes darted around for anything crazy, the hairs on his arms reminding him to stay alert.

"It's just right over here. Just a bit further. It's amazing!"

Dick peered into the dimly lit room, trying to scout around warily. Within seconds, though, he sensed something unnervingly close behind him. However, just as his Robin-training kicked in and forced him to turn around, it wasn't enough time to avoid the bat whacking him straight in the head...

****

"Uuugggh..."

Pain... Sharp pinching... Dull throbbing... It was there, most certainly. Although where it came from, where it originated, Dick wasn't quite sure. All he knew was that his head hurt. Bad. It was also the first thing he was aware of when he came to, when the world came alive again.

"Nnnnggghhh... Uuugggh..."

Slowly, cautiously, he tried to pry his eyes open. Blinking against the light that filtered through, he eventually managed to open his blues slightly. It took a few seconds to focus through the radiating agony in his skull and the brightness in the room, but he managed to discover that he was sitting in an empty room. Nothing. No shelves, no chairs, just one table. Going by the layout, he was still in the frat's basement.

Dick blinked furiously again, straining to look up from his prone position on the floor. Upon further inspection, he realized his hands were tied behind his back and his feet bound together, leading him to understand why he couldn't move. Pulling once or twice against his arms and legs made him pinch his brow and seethe in through his teeth against the stabbing pain in his head that rose back up.

"What..." he croaked, "What the..."

"Well, well, well, look who's awake? That's okay, I was going to wake you up soon anyway."

Lifting his head again at the voice, Dick reopened his eyes a crack and peered in front of him. Sure enough, the fuzzy voice belonged to none other than the very person he and Bruce had suspected was behind this entire ordeal.

Poison Ivy.

Dick's eyes widened even further as he gasped out the woman who had a brown coat draped around her; her way of going incognito, apparently.

"Poison Ivy?"

The green villain smirked when he struggled in vain to remove his ties on his wrist. Stalking over, she tsked.

"Oh come on, seriously? You think I haven't learned my lesson? You can't get out of that. It's foolproof."

The bound man tried anyway, knowing he could get out of many kinds of ropes. But the problem was, he was not Robin... which made things a little more complicated.

"What do you... want?" Dick refocused to wake himself up further as he continued to pull against the ropes. His head hurt like a monster, but he couldn't allow himself to succumb to it.

Poison Ivy did not answer. Instead, footsteps tracked down the steps. Slowly, Dick turned and gasped when he saw both Ethan and Steve walk down the stairs. He could still hear the loud music playing above (giving more reason to why no one heard any commotion down here... and letting him know he must not have been out for long).

The two jocks were perfectly fine, on their feet, walking as normal as he saw them at the party. Their faces were emotionless for the most part, but they were clearly aware of their actions. Coming closer, Ethan and Steve each handed over a large bag to the criminal.

She opened the one and smiled gratefully, nearly giddily. Pulling out part of its contents, her smile grew.

It was money.

"Good boys," she cooed, patting Ethan on the cheek, "Now, go fetch me more."

Dick couldn't believe his eyes. He was right on the money; no pun intended. She had somehow convinced Ethan and Steve to steal from their families (he assumed) and bring her money.

"Ethan!" Dick panted as he gathered enough energy to get their attention, raising his voice, "Steve! What are you doing?!"

No response. They didn't even look at him. He was invisible to them.

I have to get out of here!

The captured hero once again tried to free himself, pulling and tugging his wrists and feet against the bindings. He did his best to ignore the excruciating headache, but it remained no matter what he did. He was positive he had a concussion, one hundred percent.

Although, as he moved and shimmied for an escape, Dick noticed that he still had his tracker watch on. He internally breathed a sigh of relief and pressed the button on the side that signaled to Bruce for help.

Hopefully he won't be too mad.

Now, all he had to do, he reasoned, was keep Ivy busy and distracted enough for Batman to arrive.

"Ivy," Dick redirected his focus to her, "What... Why are you doing this?"

Instead of responding the way he had hoped, Poison Ivy carried her bags of money over to one of the tables, setting them down. When she turned around, however, her devious yet cool grin sent shivers down Dick's spine.

"Alright, Mr. Grayson. I do believe it's time for your therapy. After all, you're the one I've really been waiting for," Poison Ivy sauntered back over and waved for Ethan and Steve to grab Dick.

Crap

Dick was helpless against the strong arms that lifted him from the floor, carrying him higher as they started to drag him away. A bout of panic hit him, making him realize he was most definitely not in control.

"Hey! Ethan, Steve, shake out of it! You don't want to do this! Come on guys, stop it!"

He tried to fight their controlling grip and his pounding headache, but the boys held him steady and the pain in his brain refused to let up. The young man knew he couldn't do much as 'Dick', wishing he were Robin, but he also had to keep up appearances. He's played the dumb rich kid vibe before, and he could do it again.

"Seriously, whatever it is, Bruce will pay it! Just let me go!"

Dick feigned his frantic fear, but only slightly. He wasn't sure what was coming next as the two jocks carried him under his pits, and as brave as he could be as Robin, this was a rough predicament he was worried wouldn't go his way.

Ivy started to laugh, "That's the idea, pretty boy..."

The next thing Dick knew he was led outside through a basement door that emptied to the backyard. It was pitch black outside, but he couldn't tell what time it was. He could still hear the raving and bumping music playing from the windows above, to the point where even if he yelled he was sure no one would hear.

But there, in the darkness, he saw something large and shiny they were walking toward.

A car.

"Hey! Where are we going?! Why are you–" but he was cut off when a bag was thrown over his head, "Hey! Come on! Ethan, Steve, let me go!"

Dick was blinded to the world. As he struggled once again to free himself, shouting for them to stop, his reality shifted as he was roughly shoved into the car trunk. He landed with a loud oomph just as the trunk door shut. Once again in silence and darkness, he pulled and strained against his bindings on his hands and feet.

This isn't good...

The car started to drive.

After only a few moments, Dick got a handle on his emotions as much as he could, taking deep and even breaths to force himself to calm down. As his training kicked back in, he reasoned that they had driven for at least a half hour when the vehicle finally stopped.

In what directions, he had no idea...

Listening in, the young man heard muffled voices and car slams, indicating someone was getting out of the car. Sure enough, the trunk lid opened and he was bathed in some kind of street light. He couldn't tell where he was because he still had the bag over his head, but he did feel hands grab him once more.

Dick was manhandled harshly out of the car with little to no consideration, emphasized by the rough landing when he was thrown to the ground.

"Uuugggh!!"

He could hear Poison Ivy tsk tsk with shame.

"Oh, boys. That's not how we treat our guest."

Dick was once again lifted and carried forward to some unknown location. While he was uncertain of his location, he knew of two things: his head was pounding and he was still tied up.

After some time being carried and escorted, he was set into some kind of chair. The bag was taken off his head, allowing him some semblance of grounding. Blinking furiously against the stabbing light that flooded him again, he realized he was in some kind of auditorium, with a stage and auditorium seating that had been largely ripped out and emptied. Instead of seats, there was equipment. Laboratory inventory, beakers, vials, test tubes... more green liquid, like the one in his cup at the party. Perhaps a second stash?

Funny, he thought to himself, what a very unassuming place to be for a super villain.

And Dick being Dick, made sure he got his crack in.

"What? No abandoned warehouse this time? Two Face using them all up?"

SMACK

He wasn't expecting that, not in the least. Pinching his eyes against the growing throbbing in his head at being slapped in the face, Dick once again seethed in through his teeth to control the pain.

"Psssh, Ethan, my dear. That was unnecessary," Ivy's sweet voice sailed over. But, she giggled under her breath, "But I will admit that was a good one, Mr. Grayson."

Dick lifted his head back up and sneered at the villain, "Where are we, Ivy? What do you want?"

"It doesn't matter where we are," Ivy busied herself with the vials and beakers against a table, "But as far as what I want, you figured that out already," she smirked over her shoulder, "Money."

Without warning, four more men entered the room. But, what made his eyes widen even more was the two he knew:

Tyler and Paul.

With those two, plus Ethan and Steve, and add in the two more, she must have kidnapped more men than he realized. More than was reported on the news.

Uh oh.

Then, to add to the craziness of the night, Dick looked around and saw even more figures bound up like he was. Three more young men about his age, in all stages of consciousness, from the one that was fully out, the one that was waking up, and the one that was panicking outwardly – without sound, he noted, because of the tape over his mouth.

Double Uh Oh

"Ahhh, there we are..."

Dick returned his wide eyes to Poison Ivy who had started to walk over to him. She had something in her hands, a glass. It held the same green foul liquid he noticed at the party: the same green liquid that Steve and Ethan had been drinking.

"You look thirsty? Care for a sip?"

The tied up hero narrowed his eyes to her, "You gotta be kidding me. I'm not that stupid!"

Kicking both bound feet up, he knocked the drink out of her hand. Poison Ivy gasped at the shattered glass on the ground.

"My formula!"

Once again, Dick was met with an immediate punch to the stomach from Steve and a slam to the back from some other guy. Lurching over in his chair from the pain, he couldn't stay upright and fell out of the chair on the floor. He was starting to see stars -- and blood spatters on the ground from his head--, which was never a good thing.

Ivy pouted for only a moment before collecting herself. Glaring at the downed man who was taking deep breaths from the gut punch, she huffed.

"Well, if you're not going to take it willingly, then I guess I'll have to go the other route."

The redheaded villainess stormed over to one of the tables, uncovering a box. Dick watched in horror as she reached in and pulled out a syringe that had similar green liquid in it. His eyes widened and he gasped again.

"Hey! Get that away! You can't d–"

Suddenly, Ethan and Steve lifted him off the floor to face Ivy. Slithering over, she swayed her hips in a very sultry manner, but her face held much contempt for him, he noticed, contrasting the smooth walk of hers.

But, little did they know that Dick had a trick up his own sleeve.

He was able to loosen his feet bindings.

"Now, be a good little rich boy and do what you're told," Ivy lifted the syringe, daring him to do worse.

Dick smirked, "Yeah, I don't think so."

His feet went up and once again smacked the vial out of her hands. But he didn't stop there... Dick kept going, flipping his feet completely up and over his head. It was enough to break free from Steve and Ethan. He jumped and twisted into a split, the rope splitting wide open. Jumping again, he kicked and nailed them both in the back, sending them onto their faces, and then turned and bolted away.

Ivy gasped and growled, "GET HIM!"

Before Dick could reach the door, Paul and Tyler lunged for him, their faces unrecognizable as angry medicated goons. But, instead of allowing them to tackle him, he twisted and leaped between the two, simultaneously pulling his arms from the back to his front in order to contort into a back handspring. As soon as that was accomplished, Dick reached out and opened the door and took off...

Into another hallway... full of other hallways...

"Ooookaaay... This is interesting..."

Dick looked around at the three options, debating where to go. Hearing the voices shouting behind him, he guessed and went down the right hall, sprinting as fast as he could. Rounding another corner, he came to another split of hallways, with a very noticeable office-looking door to the right.

Instantly, he figured out where he was.

"We're in a high school?!" Dick wryly mused to himself, very frustrated with his situation.

But, he chose again, hoping it would lead to the right escape to freedom.

He chose wrong.

Three more young men came out of nowhere and lurched forward, their hands up in an attempt to grab him. Although, keeping momentum, Dick twisted and leaped over one, bringing him down with him as he grabbed his neck and flipped him backward. The second man earned a kick to the gut, sending him forward. The third man was rewarded with a twirling send-off as Dick snatched his arm and flung him sideways into the other two.

He knew he had to keep up appearances as the rich spoiled kid, but he also knew the public was aware of his performing past, allowing him some leeway on what he knew... Plus, going around telling people Bruce Wayne put him into some self-defense classes, it all made sense. Not suspicious in the least.

Still, he couldn't go overboard, which frustrated him to no end.

Dick continued to race down the hall. Before long, he came to another door. He opened it, ran inside, slammed the door, and locked it. Leaning against the door, he panted to catch his breath and his racing heart.

"Okay, Dick, think... Think... Now what do I do?"

The young man looked around and saw he was in yet another room with equipment in it. It wasn't a lab, per say, but a utility room with cleaning supplies. He walked over and tried to spot something useful for an escape. Then, he saw it: a pair of scissors.

"Bingo," he smiled, snatching them off the table.

Before he could use them, the door behind him busted open, causing him to turn around in alarm. Four men immediately charged in and tried to grab Dick.

He prepared for more action, readying himself to fight back, but as he kicked one in the chest he was punched square in the face and sent crashing back into the table.

"Uuughgh..."

Dick blinked and tried to stay alert and on his toes throughout the pain of another punch to the face, but before he could stand up he felt a pinch in his arm.

It burned.

With a growl of pain and frustration, Dick tried to push his way out, shoulder butting the guy that had the syringe in his hand. The emptied needle crashed to the ground and Dick tried to take off, but he was met with another fist to the face.

He was unconscious before he hit the ground.

****

The very next thing Dick was aware of was that he was back in the same auditorium as before... This time, even though his hands were still bound in front of him, he now had rope across his chest and his legs as he was attached to a chair... Dick strained again, trying to get himself free.

"Go ahead and try all you want," he heard a deadpanned, irritated voice, "You aren't getting away as easily as you did before."

Lifting his head that was now aching even more, he blinked through the spots and saw Poison Ivy once again in front of him.

Dick blinked drowsily, his energy suddenly feeling very zapped. Whether it was from the injection or the concussion, or both, he wasn't sure.

"What do you want?"

Poison Ivy shrugged indifferently as she fiddled with her equipment.

"I already told you. I'm a villain that needs money, what do you expect?"

Dick narrowed his eyes to her, his corny snarky side showing its true colors. He smirked.

"Not much more than that I guess... You are pretty predictable. And stupid if you think you're getting away with this."

Ivy didn't like that one bit. She frowned and glared back at the boy who couldn't help but throw insults her way. First the Two Face comment, now this... She snapped her fingers to Ethan. Dick's friend walked over and slapped a piece of tape on Dick's mouth, who in turn mumbled and muffled his outrage of being silenced.

Poison Ivy tsked again, sitting on the nearby table with her legs crossed. Around her, the young men she kidnapped and enslaved were busying themselves with either bringing in bags of money, holding equipment, or standing by still as they waited for more instructions.

"You sure do have an attitude, I'll give you that," then she gave a sexy grin, "but you are a cutie. Also the heir to one of the richest men in the country," she acknowledged coolly, studying her fingernails, "Easier to get cash when you exploit their loved ones, isn't it?"

She hopped off the table and walked towards another.

"That being said, blackmailing isn't exactly my forte anymore. I'd prefer to just take things when I want them, not when someone else feels up to agreeing to my demands. And thus, my new elixir was born," she gestured around to her equipment, "This new idea was arguably inspired by Tetch and his mind control methods. Swap out his crude technology for my organic, nature-friendly toxin and we have a much better system of mind control."

Dick glanced around and saw them all working freely, but they also seemed oddly controlled. Like he noticed before, some were standing by, some were fiddling with equipment, and others were counting money. All of them were doing exactly what they were told.

"With this new and improved toxin, my subjects know exactly what they're doing,"Ivy went on, a new syringe in her hand, "They're convinced it's for the greater good. You see, they're injected with my pheromone chemicals that are enhanced by Tetch's nanotechnology that alter their nervous system, responsible for cognition and reactions. After, they're sent home on their merry way a week or so later with the belief they went to therapy," she grinned, "I mean, it was therapeutic... to me, I'll admit. It was rewarding watching them succumb to my creativity."

Poison Ivy sniggered, then lifted her wrist. On her wrist was a bracelet of some kind, Dick noticed, a metallic band that wrapped around her forearm. She pressed a small button on it and before he knew it, Paul stood up from his chair and walked over.

Dick's eyes widened with realization that everyone that was injected by her new chemical was controlled by this remote. She could easily make them do whatever she wanted.

Bruce, where are you?!

Then, Ivy turned to face him, syringe in hand, "With them having access to codes and passwords to some of the largest accounts in the world, it technically isn't 'theft'. More like 'borrowing without a chance of repayment'. And with you being a stone's throw away from Wayne Enterprises' mounting fortune, well..." she smirked evilly over to him, "I told you you were the one I was waiting for."

Dick struggled again, seeing her walk over with the syringe. He knew it was coming for him, but try as he might, he couldn't free himself this time.

"Oh, in case you were wondering, I didn't mind telling you my secrets because it's not going to matter in a few short minutes anyway. You'll be under my control," she admitted, her confidence surmounting. Lifting the syringe in front of him, her lips curled in an evilly seductive manner, "So... Let's seal the deal, shall we? You got the first dose already, let's give you the rest of it."

The villain stalked over, needle in hand.

Dick pulled and strained as he could, his headache growing worse by the minute as his muffled protests under the tape never hit their mark. Sure enough, four hands grabbed him and held him still, halting his efforts of shimmying free again. He felt sweat beading on his forehead at his vain struggle, both internal and external.

He knew there was no way of getting out of this one.

****

A lone figure touched down lightly on a rooftop, scanning the area for any signs of activity or entryway, or both.

Batman held up a device in his hand, seeing a red beeping light on it. Looking down at the building beneath him, he knew Dick was in there. His tracker had said as much. It took him some time to find him though, since after being activated it had moved locations. He had to quickly shift his drive to the new place a half hour out of town. But, at least he found it.

He stalked in the darkness further ahead and came to a rooftop entrance door. Picking the lock with ease, Batman opened the metal door and stepped inside, his flashlight lighting the way.

Slowly, cautiously, he made his way through a maze of hallways and rooms, increasingly frustrated at the lack of organization in the building. One would have thought that school buildings, even ones that were long since abandoned like this one, would have some sort of appropriate layout.

Whoever designed this needs to rot, Batman grumbled to himself.

Holding up the tracker once again, he saw that the red button was still working. Although, now, he could tell it was moving around. Dick was walking around wherever he was.

Walking further, Batman traversed through the hallways and extra rooms, eventually finding his way stealthily into a large room that housed multiple tables of equipment. Looking around, Batman used his flashlight to peruse through the materials and supplies, gathering enough information that they must be used for–

"You're pathetically rude to interrupt, you know that?"

Batman stood up straighter when the lights illuminated the massive room – more massive than he initially thought–, washing over everything to bring it into the light. There was no use hiding, especially when the green villainess stood in the middle of the room, her hips jutted out, her hands on her hips, looking very frustrated.

"It's over Ivy," Batman declared, "Your little operation is being shut down."

Instead of snarling back, Ivy smiled and crossed her arms, "You really have nothing better to do than track me down, huh? Tell me, how did you even do it?"

Batman smirked secretively, "I have my ways," then frowned, "Let your hostages go and we can end this."

Poison Ivy hummed to herself, tapping her chin as if she was considering his order. However, she giggled nastily and shook her head, "Naaaah, I'd rather not," then pressed a button on her wrist and called into the air, "Ooooh boys!"

Suddenly, six boys ran out from hidden locations. Batman looked at their faces and realized they were all ones missing from the news: Ethan, Steve, Paul, and Tyler... plus two more he wasn't aware of. Readying himself for whatever battle they would offer him, he raised his fists.

Batman fought them off one by one, sending two flying against the walls when he grabbed their wrists and twisted them around, head over heels. Ethan lunged but was met with a kick to his stomach, sending him to his knees for only a moment before he rose again to his feet. Steve and Paul, the ones he sent into the wall, were back at it, along with the two others, sending fists flying in Batman's direction.

He had no idea why they were able to keep going, but the Dark Knight was becoming increasingly frustrated.

"They're completely conscious, Batman," Poison Ivy teased from the side, "They know exactly what they're doing. They can even feel pain! They aren't able to react to it, but it's there all the same."

"What a touching sentiment," the Caped Crusader snapped back, punching two more in the gut at the same time. However, seeing them rise once more and come back his way, he grit his teeth together.

"Enough of this!"

Raising a bola from his utility belt, he swung and roped two of them together, effectively tying them up. Next, he used another rope from his grapple to send three more high up into a ceiling rafter that was exposed on the stage.

Before he could turn around and declare a threatening victory to the villain, he was hit on the back and sent forward with a grunt of pain. Landing harshly, Batman rolled over and saw Poison Ivy standing over him with a smug grin on her face... and a baseball bat in her hands.

"Gotta thank Harley for the loaner..." she patted the slugger in her palms, "Comes in handy when you have a Bat problem..."

She raised it over her head and prepared to slam it back down with a shout, but it never landed: Batman swung his legs around and took her own, sending her crashing to the floor. Flipping up, Batman once again stood above her, readying himself for more.

Ivy rolled to her back and simultaneously lifted a can of some sorts, ready to spray it on the Dark Knight, but instead it was kicked out of her hands and sent hurtling across the room. She snarled and climbed to her feet, using her other wrist to send arrows in his direction from her wrist gauntlet, opposite the other metal band that encompassed her forearm.

Batman dove and ducked behind an auditorium seat, feeling the pinging of the arrows into the wood backing. He found a stray piece of metal nearby and raised it up, deflecting the arrows like his own baseball bat.

"You won't be able to get away this time Ivy," he called out angrily when the arrows stopped, "We're putting you away for good."

Poison Ivy laughed, lowering her arms, "Oh really? You and what army? Certainly not mine..."

Next, Batman watched as she pressed a button on the apparatus on her other wrist. As soon as she had, more men arrived in the room. Two more.

"How many people did you take, Pamela?" Batman shouted, sending a fist into the one's face, "How many innocent lives are you ruining?" a kick to the stomach of the second one.

"As many as it takes to get my way, Batman," Ivy cackled back, standing by to watch the fight. But, to her dismay, her adversary dispatched of the two men the same way he did the others. She tried to make an escape, leaving out the one side door, but was stopped when a batarang flew past her and jammed into the key lock, shutting her off from her way out.

The villain spun back with a nasty glare on her face.

"You sorry excuse for a..." she began angrily. But, as quick as her anger hit, it left... Batman watched as her glower morphed into a smug grin, her eyebrows raising confidently. She chuckled under her breath, then lifted her wrist and pressed another button, "Fine... Let's make this interesting."

Without warning, Batman was kicked solidly in the back with enough force to send him flying across the room. He grunted as he landed, but when he gathered himself and turned himself over to look at who had done such a thing, his heart dropped. Batman gasped and his eyes widened upon seeing the man responsible for kicking him.

"No..."

Dick Grayson stood before him, his chest puffed out, his fists clenched, and his facial expression unrecognizable as a mask of indifference covered his eyes and his mouth.

Ivy laughed at the show, "Perfect timing, sweetheart! My therapy is working wonders!" she skipped over and held both Dick's shoulders in an endearing manner, "I heard Mr. Grayson here was a circus star a while back. He certainly has proven he kept his touch, with how difficult it was to nab him... I was surprised, I must admit. Brucie's little charity case really knows how to put up a fight," she grinned more, "This could be entertaining!"

Batman watched Dick stand by, unmoving, fully under her power. His shirt was ripped in several places, his hair mussed up. He also noticed the boy had bruises on his face, with blood on one side of his temple, practically dried up from an injury that happened some time ago. It made him sick thinking about it...

He stood up, seriously not wanting to hurt his boy, but as Ivy pressed the button on her wrist again, he crouched and prepared himself as Dick approached him, cracking his knuckles.

"Let him and the others go, Ivy," Batman demanded loudly, his eyes both on Dick.

Ivy giggled, walked a distance away, and plopped herself down onto a table. She ignored his shout. Instead, she clapped twice.

"Aaaaand on with the show!"

Batman didn't get a chance to say anything else; Dick reacted to her demands and charged forward. He crouched and prepared himself for an attack, just as Duck lunged forward. Each time Dick reared his hands back for a punch, Batman ducked and dove, not allowing anything to land. Even Dick's legs swinging wildly in rapid succession didn't make a connection. Bruce at this point was on a true avoidance tactic, refusing to engage or hurt him.

"Don't do this!" he whisper-yelled under his breath when the young man got close, "You're under her control!"

Dick punched and kicked again, flipping and twirling like the expert he was, using both his martial arts and acrobatic training. It was like a dance, if anyone watched, but they knew it was anything but. Batman blocked and avoided, still doing his best not to harm the boy who was under Ivy's control. That being said, while Batman noted that the other boys that were pretty basic fighters, through their own will or Ivy's, Dick could be pretty lethal... and seeing as how he wasn't aware of his professional movements, or at least not in control, he didn't exactly hold back his Robin training.

"Oooh, I am impressed!" Ivy boasted, clapping for the young man who arched his back and swung his legs around like the expert athlete he was.

If this were any regular sparring routine, Batman would also be impressed. But, seeing as how it wasn't, he was not excited about this battle.

"You've got to fight this! Fight it, Dick!"

Dick was unresponsive. Although, odds were, he was going to connect at some point. Eventually, he wound up and swung his legs for a high flying roundhouse to Batman's shoulders, then righted himself to grab the man's cape and fling him around across the room.

"Oof," Ivy sassed, "Looks like I underestimated this one. I guess you can take the kid out of the circus, but you can't take the circus out of the kid... Besides, looks like he's had some martial arts training, I'd say. Must be all that money Wayne throws around."

Batman stood up just in time to see his emotionless ward stalk back over. Emotionless, at least, other than anger. With a throaty growl, Dick launched himself again, his feet flying forward to the Caped Crusader's head.

The Dark Knight flew across the room... again... and again.

Batman rubbed his head, shaking himself awake from the beating he was taking from his own partner. However, he didn't have much time to recover. Looking over his shoulder, he saw Dick coming back again...

Quickly rotating, he grabbed both Dick's hands as he was shoved back onto his back from the momentum. They were both deadlocked, straining to gain the upper hand over the other. They matched wits, gritting and bearing down as they were stuck in a stalemate, their hands both pushing against the other.

"I don't want to hurt you, Dick," Batman mumbled under his breath to his ward, trying to get to him. He felt anxious at his predicament, sorely wanting to keep the young man safe without injury, "You have to wake up!"

Dick did not respond.

Upon further inspection, his heart dropped as he saw the state Dick was in.

Aside from the head injuries and disheveled appearance, Batman also saw his blue irises were nearly nonexistent; his pupils were dilated something fierce. Whether it was caused by the toxin in his blood or the concussion he most likely had judging from his head wounds, he wasn't sure, but it could be either... or both.

He felt sick to his stomach at the suffering his ward – his son– went through.

The Dark Knight had enough, though. He wanted to end this. And unfortunately, he knew he would have to get Dick off of him somehow. Batman twisted his arms to the side, causing Dick to fall that way. Quickly, the hero stood up and grabbed Dick's one arm and swung him sideways and away.

But, the boy was prepared...

He didn't flop and fall. Instead, Dick rolled and went into a succession of back handsprings that ended in a flawless tri-point landing.

Batman would be more proud if his own life weren't on the line.

Good thing he's on my side, he mused to himself, thankful that the boy wasn't a villain in his own right.

Then, without hesitation, the drugged up young man raced forward again. After four steps, he yelled and went into another spiral kick with the intent of sending his foot home into Batman's jaw.

Instead, Batman caught Dick's foot in midair and spun him around, sending him backwards and upside down in the opposite direction – directly into Poison Ivy sitting on the table.

"Ahhhh!"

Ivy shouted when she saw the young man fly her way, but she couldn't dodge in time. Dick slammed into her and they both went backwards, breaking the table and rolling a few feet into a shelf of equipment. When they hit, the glass and metal supplies broke loose and fell around them, shattering and clanging against the ground... and their bodies.

Batman stood up, eyes wide with worry and fear, severely hoping he didn't hurt Dick. But, he waited by for anything just in case he actually didn't.

Ivy and Dick both stirred under the equipment, moving slowly to get up. Although, as Poison Ivy lifted her wrist to call in more of her minions, she discovered with horror that her wristlet that controlled the men was broken. Fizzling and sparking on her hand, she quickly removed the broken gauntlet.

"Nooooo!"

Batman saw this, as well, then noticed that the other men in the area had started to clutch at their heads. He looked around and saw one by one the boys doubling over, moaning and groaning in pain as if they were waking up from a disastrous nightmare.

Dick was doing the same.

"Dick!" Batman whispered under his breath, hoping Ivy wouldn't hear him. Quickly, he raced over to the downed man beside the villain. But he didn't make it.

Ivy stood up quickly, "Not so fast!" she raised her other arm with her bow and arrow, "One more move and you're dead, Batman."

Batman stopped and held up his hands, but saw Dick rolling slowly and coming to a kneel. Around them, the other boys were slowly waking up, mumbling, confused

"What happened?"

"Where am I?"

"What's going on?"

Batman turned back and smirked over to Ivy, crossing his arms, "Looks like your little mind control is over. Time to go back to Arkham, Pamela."

The villainess let out a shriek, beyond frustrated she had been stopped. Looking around, she snarled at the men who were waking up from their chemical induced stupor. However, she huffed and glowered back to the Dark Knight.

"Fine! I have enough supplies stored elsewhere to restore my elixir. Besides, I think you'll be too busy saving everyone, Batman!"

She raced over to one of the tables nearby that held a large computer console and slammed down on a button. When she did, two explosions ignited nearby on the empty stage and the side walls, causing everyone to shout and duck for cover. Amidst the fires starting and the occupants of the room distracted by their own safety, Ivy took her leave and bolted down the aisle and through the main door, making her exit.

Just as he turned and readied himself to follow after, he heard a familiar groan of discomfort. Batman knew it was Dick.

Immediately, he sprinted over to his ward as he cautiously crawled back to his knees. Carefully placing a supporting hand on his back and shoulder, Batman helped him sit up.

"Are you alright?"

Dick grunted and held his head, his eyes still pinched shut. Slowly, he blinked them open and stared around the room at the glowing disaster.

"Bru–", then paused when he noticed the cape and cowl, "Batman? Uuugghhh... Y-yeah..."he gulped again and tried to steady his breathing amidst the pain in his skull, "W-what happened?"

"Ivy," Batman informed him in a rough voice, helping support the young man as he stood up slowly, "I'll fill you in later, but right now we have to get everyone out."

Dick furrowed his brow, trying to concentrate. After he found his balance, still supported by the older man, he gasped and lit up, "Wait... I remember..." his tired yet wired blues looked up at Batman and he clutched at his cape, "She's using Mad Hatter's nanotech," he paused and swallowed hard against the pain in his head, "She fused it together somehow with her chemicals."

"Makes sense," Batman nodded, "She uses her own formula combined with his technology and it's a force to be reckoned with."

Hearing more noises and moans of discomfort, the caped hero looked around and saw the other boys standing upright, seeing if the others were alright. They were still disoriented and sorely confused, but obviously becoming increasingly aware of their surroundings, showing fear and confusion at where they were... especially now that they were in a room engulfed in flames. The explosion set off a blaze around the room; the curtains and old chairs that were practically kindling at this point were already burning brightly. The fires caught on rather quickly, spreading rapidly.

And one more look at Dick, he saw his hooded eyelids and discombobulated state, indicating his head injury was still very much bothering him.

It was time to go...

"We have to get everyone out of here before–"

On cue, two more bombs went off, shaking the whole building. Batman kept a tighter protective hold of Dick as they both wobbled from the tremors, the others falling over with shouts of protest and fright.

When the shaking subsided, the Dark Knight released his grip on Dick slightly, "You get everyone out of here to safety, I'll go after Ivy."

It took Dick a few seconds for that order to register. When it did, he lit up and clutched at Batman's cape again, "Wait, by yourself? I can–"

No," the older hero shook his head, "You're injured and there are other people here who need helped. You get yourself and them out of this building as fast as you can! Do you understand?"

Dick looked like he wanted to argue, but with one more look around at the frightened and panicking men, plus the flames everywhere, he chose not to. Besides, it was true: his head was pounding from the inside out, a jackhammer running rampant in his skull. He turned back to his father-figure and gave a small nod.

Batman was grateful he understood... at least he'd get to safety.

The Dark Knight let him go and took off after Ivy. Dick watched him run down the aisle of the auditorium in her last direction, hoping he'd be safe.

When he left, he had to hold onto a nearby hunk of wood to steady his breath against the growing nausea in his stomach, mostly as a result of the concussion... But he didn't get to be self-centered for long.

"Dick? Dick, is that you?"

The black-haired young man lifted his head and saw Paul and Tyler walking up, holding their heads and looking around, absolutely bewildered and frantic of the flames. Off to the side, he saw Ethan and Steve, plus a couple others were still unconscious, surrounded by a few more boys who were awake and shaking them, all in varying states of awareness.

Not to mention the fire that was increasingly getting worse.

Dick gave a heavy, stressful exhale. There was a lot of work to do.

"Okay... Let's get everyone out. Now."

Batman, meanwhile, was on a rampage trying to find Pamela Isley, rounding corner after corner through the smoke that had now seeped into the rest of the building. He searched room and room, hallway and hallway, until he slammed the doors to the gymnasium open side, peering inside.

"Boy, you sure don't know when to give up, do you?"

There she was. Batman turned his head and saw her gathering more supplies. Ivy stood to her full height and growled that the Dark Knight had found her.

"You'd think bombs would be enough to keep you busy!" spat Ivy, who raised her wrist sling and aimed at his head.

Batman grit his teeth and raised his fists, "Not busy enough that I can't stop you from controlling the minds of others."

The villain let out a frustrated shriek, practically stamping her feet, "Stay out of my business, Batman! You have no idea what I'm raising money for!"

Batman ducked and dodged the arrows as she flung them his way, all while the flames grew around them now that they had spread throughout the school.

"I know enough to know it's illegal. Stealing the amount of money you're doing is grand theft. And mind controlling? Last I checked that's also unethical... and illegal."

"You don't understand! These rich entitled selfish families harm the environment more than anyone else! The atrocities they do to the rain forests, the rivers, the lakes, the deserts all for the sake of their next buck. It's a sin! Besides, it's two-fold," Ivy shot off more, ignoring the smoke and flames around them, "I'm also taking their money to use it towards environmental protection programs. Think of it Batman: think of what I could do with all the money to save these wildlife areas."

Batman argued back, ducking behind a random shelf that had been thrown into the gym, among other miscellaneous school supplies. Apparently the gym had become a dumping ground for extra unused materials when the structure was abandoned.

"Those companies you're stealing from already do that," the Dark Knight shouted back, "Wayne Enterprises donates millions of dollars each year to charities in exactly those fields."

"Not enough!"

"So you're going to blackmail and control citizens in order to get your way?" Batman countered, throwing a batarang of his own that only made her duck.

Ivy snarked back, "Not blackmail Batman. Literal control!"

"Again, which is illegal," Batman quickly looked around and saw more fires nearly engulfing the gym. He looked back over the shelf and reminded her of one thing, "Your chemicals are volatile and flammable, Ivy! This whole place is going to blow! We need to get out of here!"

Poison Ivy growled and raised her wristlet bow and arrow again, ignoring his warning, "You want this to happen, Batman! You'd rather save those spoiled rich snobby brats than save Mother Earth! You're just a–" 

Ivy was abruptly cut off when another explosion hit nearby. The entire building started to shake, making the figures inside unstable. Batman stumbled and fell, and so did Ivy. Shortly after, she found her way to her feet and turned to leave. Just as soon as she made it to the exit door, she was met with a bat to her gut and a kick to her face. Pamela flew back and smacked her head on the floor, rendering her unconscious.

Batman looked up and saw a still wobbly Dick Grayson with a big crooked smile, patting the bat in his hands.

"You're right... We should thank Harley for the loaner."

The Dark Knight breathed a sigh of relief that his boy was okay. But, just as he rose and ran over, he became even more worried upon seeing Dick's still wobbly exterior.

"I thought I told you to get out."

Dick snorted into a half- laugh and half-cough, "I did. Couldn't leave you behind. Now come on, this place is coming down!"

Batman went over and lifted Ivy, slinging her dead weight over his shoulder. However, just as he turned back to Dick, a loud boom ruptured overhead, causing them both to look up. Part of the ceiling was collapsing in, making them duck and dive away from the falling debris. Sure enough, it landed right where the exit door was.

Dick and Batman crawled to their feet, coughing. The exit was blocked.

"Okay, plan B," Dick gestured for Batman to follow, his sluggish mind running on empty yet forced to be on hyper-drive, "There's another way out. This way."

Batman followed his ward as they both traversed the smokey hallways, dodging roaring flames left and right. Dick took a left, a right, another left... even if he did stumble once or twice on his own feet. Thankfully, Batman was right there to keep a grip on his elbow.

Sure enough, after a very few stressful minutes of uncertainty, Batman and Dick Grayson found clean air and a night time sky... plus nearly two dozen blinking red and blue lights. The police, fire department, and emergency medical crew were all hands on deck surrounding the raging inferno. 

Just in time, too... The building ruptured from two more explosions from the gymnasium, most likely the flammable chemicals igniting. Everyone outside ducked for cover, including the three that just finally left the building. Batman slung his body over both Ivy and Dick on the ground, protecting both from the shooting debris.

When the roaring subsided, the Caped Crusader and Boy Wonder looked back over to the unrecognizable abandoned structure.

They were safely out.

Batman looked worriedly down to Dick who was shaking and crawling to his knees, "Are you okay?"

Dick, still coughing and hacking, nodded... but didn't smile.

Before he could say anything, three medical team members ran over to the heroes, two of them taking Ivy from the caped man and one bending down in front of Dick.

"Mr. Grayson? This way," guiding him to stand and walk towards an ambulance.

Thankfully, for Batman, Dick did not protest. He was too busy coughing and struggling to remain upright. Assisted by the one EMT on one side and Batman on the other, he allowed himself to be led to the ambulance.

****

"Well, Batman," Gordon sighed, watching as Ivy, who had now woken up, was being taken into custody in the security van. The van would soon head to Arkham, treat her for any injuries, and lock her up for good, "You really figured things out this time... Honestly, I don't think we'd have any idea if it weren't for your call in. Especially with her setting up shop a half hour away. How did you do it?"

Instead of answering, Batman took a good look away from the Commissioner, knowing who really solved the mystery of the kidnapped college students. His eyes settled on his ward who was still seated by an ambulance, a breathing mask on his face and a first responder tending to his head. His ward– his son– who had shown true bravery and intuition, was the real savior behind the day.

He was proud.

Turning back to Gordon, his crooked smile remained, "I had some inside help," then walked away without another word, leaving a very confused yet relieved police commissioner.

Batman approached Dick as he noticed the young man was just being finished with getting his head bandaged, hearing the word 'stitches' mentioned. Just as he came closer, the EMT took his leave, allowing him to stand by Dick privately.

"You alright?"

Dick looked up at the man above him and nodded. Batman observed his tired yet tight face, pinched with both discomfort as the pain meds haven't settled in yet.

"Yeah... I'm okay..." he sighed, taking off his breathing mask, "At least I'm not them," he gestured to the other guys.

Batman followed his eyes to the others. Some of the boys were alert and confused (Paul and Tyler) and some unconscious on stretchers (Ethan and Steve). Two ambulances drove away while a few more remained. All in all, they counted nine boys who had been nabbed.

"They must have been controlled for a lot longer," the Dark Knight assumed of the ones still unconscious, "After all, they were missing for quite a while."

"I... I hope they're all going to be okay."

At the sound of Dick's small voice, Batman saw his concerned frown. The young man was gazing out mournfully and worriedly towards his friends, his face long and weary, the adventure of the day finally catching up to him. Batman noticed a slow blink, showing how exhausted he was.

He leaned down and patted his shoulders, "They will be... Thanks to you," he grinned and squeezed his shoulder, a fond tone to his voice, "You saved the day."

Dick glanced up and saw his partner's kind grin, making a blushing smile creep up on his smoke-covered face. Still, he wouldn't take the credit. He didn't feel like the hero of the day, just the right person at the right time.

"Eh... I wouldn't think that. I was still taken... and controlled, too," then he frowned, suddenly very embarrassed, "Look, um... S-sorry I kinda went nuts on you. I..." he gulped, ashamed at the memory of the big fight between the two, "I remember the whole thing."

"No worries. I'm just glad you're safe. Although," he leaned over and whispered, a twinge of humor to his voice, "we'll talk when we get home about upping your training... You nearly handed me my butt back there."

That comment left Dick laughing out loud... before he broke down in coughs.

"Mr. Grayson, you need to keep the breathing mask on!"

****

Three weeks later, Dick was walking on campus again... His concussion was nearly subsided, practically gone, and his bruises had disappeared. Even the small stitch count he needed in his head had been handled.

As he walked along to his Chemistry class, he thought hard about the past few weeks....

All his friends were in the hospital for a few days, being monitored, especially Ethan and Steve, who gratefully woke up as soon as they arrived to the medical building. Thankfully, Dick had grabbed enough of the toxin to make an antidote before getting all the guys outside. Granted, when Ivy's wristlet control panel was destroyed, she also destroyed her ability to manipulate the boys; however, with the nanotech inside, they still needed a way to manufacture a way to remove them from the bodies. The toxins itself still had the nanotech mixed in, so it was easy to engineer a way to disable it, lest Ivy find some way to remake her elixir.

Then, as Dick passed the art department building, he reminisced back to when he was home, with Bruce in the cave, a couple days after the ordeal...

Bruce was getting ready as Batman, but Robin was still grounded because of his concussion and other injuries... He was frustrated with himself, angry that he allowed himself to get captured.

"You chose to go undercover, and I agreed," Bruce put on his cowl while his ward sat on the computer chair, "Even though things didn't quite go as smoothly as we'd hoped, without you we'd have never found Poison Ivy's hideout and stash of toxin, or that it was confirmed to be Ivy in the first place. And furthermore, Dick, you did it as yourself... not as Robin," Bruce walked over and patted his shoulder, "I'm proud of you."

Dick beamed up at him, happy at the praise. It wasn't often Batman showed this amount of confidence in him or outright congratulations at a job well done. So, it felt good... But, he then frowned, concerned, pulling his leg up on the chair.

"I'm just glad the other guys are going to be okay. Paul and Tyler woke up just fine; they'd only been taken for a few days. But Steve and Ethan? They didn't look so good."

Bruce nodded, knowing the other two boys were out significantly longer. Ethan, especially.

"I know. But at least with the anti-toxin they were able to be helped," he smiled, "Which you also managed to nab."

Then, the older man smirked.

"Oh, and about your training," his grin grew as he gathered his utility belt, "When you're feeling up to it, you're back at it. Like I said, you nearly handed me my butt back there... apparently I've been going soft on you."

Dick smiled to himself thinking back to that conversation with his mentor/father-figure that day weeks ago. He was happy that Bruce was pleased with him, even forgiving him for getting captured. And it was nice to have him acknowledge that he was even more of a fighter than he led on.

"Hey, Dick!"

Back to the present, he raised his eyes and saw three people running towards him: Ethan, Paul and Steve. He waved and greeted them excitedly, "Hey guys! Glad to see you all back! How are you feeling?"

Paul puffed his chest, "Ahh, I'm feeling good. Same with Tyler, he's all fine. But these guys?" he thumbed to the other two, "I dunno. Still messed up in the head. Although, they were always that way, so you just can't tell."

Ethan cackled and shoved his friend, "Says you," then grew serious, "In all honesty, it was pretty freaky. I mean, I remember the whole thing. I-I remember being taken from work," he sighed and shook his head, "One minute I'm slinging burgers and the next I'm being shoved in the back of the car."

"Same," Steve agreed, "I had just left the locker room after practice and then wham! When I came to, I was tied to a chair next to a lady in green," he shivered.

Paul's gaze trailed to the ground, his mind preoccupied with a very dangerous and deep thought, "Truthfully, if I had to draw that creepy lady in my figure drawing class, I think I'd give it up for good..."

Dick chuckled at the irony of the situation, then calmed down, more sober, "I really am glad you guys are okay."

"And what about you?" Paul pointed to Dick, "You got taken, too."

Steve and Ethan flushed, ashamed at their actions, "Yeah, Dick, we're sorry about that... We really wanted to not do it, but kinda being controlled and all, well..."

Dick waved off Steve's apology, "Hey man, it's all okay. I forgive you," but then he shrugged, "In all honesty, it sorta worked out. See, I usually have a tracker on me. Bruce is kinda protective, ya know," he wrinkled his nose wryly, "So when I didn't turn up back home, he activated it and sent Batman to find us."

"Smart", Paul tapped his head, "I gotta get my folks on that tracker business."

"Hey, guys!"

They all turned and saw Barbara running up, waving to them.

"Well, gentlemen, if you'll excuse me," Steve cleared his throat in a very suave manner, readjusting his nonexistent tie, "I must be off," then turned to the redheaded girl as she approached, "You ready?"

Barbara smiled and took his arm, giving a very sarcastic remark, "Cafeteria sandwiches and soda? What a date..."

Dick snickered and watched as the two left. As he did, a small twinge of jealousy squeezed his gut, especially when he saw Steve wrap an arm around Barbara.

A shove to his shoulder woke him out of his stupor. Dick turned and saw Ethan waggling his eyes, similar to Paul's wide, knowing smirk.

"For the record," Ethan whispered, leaning in closer, "She's cuter with you."

Dick smiled and crossed his arms as they both walked away, high-fiving each other at the teasing comment. With one final glance over towards Steve and Barbara, he sighed and walked away to his class, ready to get on with another day.... but couldn't help the growing blush across his face.

Chapter Text

"Thank you, Alfred. You've outdone yourself once again"

"I... appreciate the compliment, Master Bruce. I assure you, it was no trouble at all"

"Nonsense! This is delicious"

Alfred Pennyworth stared at the older man who was not only his charge and employer but his surrogate son in curious surprise. Bruce chewed his duck l'orange with a small, barely noticeable smile on his face. He was clearly enjoying the meal, but what caught the chef off guard was the open compliments.

It was... odd.

Truth was, ever since a certain circus star arrived in their household a few years ago things had become very odd indeed... in a wonderful way. A new youthful life was breathed into the house and extended into all corners of the grounds, bringing a vigor and excitement that hadn't been seen for many years prior. Thanks to Dick Grayson, Bruce Wayne had learned to open up more, express himself more, and even, dare Alfred acknowledge it, smile before. The stiff and grungy caped hero had most certainly loosened his heartstrings thanks to the boisterous and full-of-life boy who entered their lives in the most unusual and traumatic way possible.

And thanking him for the meals was certainly an upgrade.

However, both Bruce and Alfred observed that the other figure at the table did not offer a compliment.

Instead, Dick Grayson sat there pushing around his food with his fork, an absentminded and pensive look upon his face like his mind was elsewhere other than the beautiful plating in front of him.

Bruce swallowed his food and addressed the boy, "Everything okay?"

No response

"Dick?"

The twelve-year-old looked up from his plate at his guardian, blinking at the sudden awareness that two sets of eyes were on him. Dick put on a smile and nodded.

"Oh, yeah, sorry", then he realized his own mistake, turning up to the butler, "Thanks, Alfred. This tastes really good"

Alfred, ignoring the fact that the young man had not taken a bite yet, grinned anyway.

"You're quite welcome, Master Dick. Glad you like it"

The two went back to eating their meal, returning to a normal routine... for the most part.

Now Bruce Wayne, board meeting extraordinaire by day and criminal pulverizer by night, was unparalleled in his ability to take in information, process it, and make observations and inferences that others could not. Dubbed the 'World's Greatest Detective' by his ward in red and green, he didn't let a lot of things slip by him, making assumptions and deductions better than anyone else given the facts in front of him in order to solve any case in record time.

That being said, being fairly new to the whole 'parental shtick', he still was not quite sure what to do in the 'regular times', as he put them.

So a subtle nudge to his shoulder woke Bruce out of his own meal time enjoyment.

He looked up and saw Alfred standing over him once again, but this time it wasn't because he was summoned for a duty or a request. A quiet, reserved yet pointed expression rested on the elderly man's brow, enough for Bruce to raise interest.

Without a word, Mr. Pennyworth gestured with his eyes over towards the younger man at the table, indicating that Bruce's attention should follow. And when he did, he saw that Dick had still not taken more than a couple bites of his food. In fact, it looked like all he was doing was moving the morsels around to make it look like he had disturbed it just enough to not be noticed.

Furthermore, Bruce took another look at Dick's face.

His eyes were downcast, staring at the plate, but he clearly wasn't looking at the food. He had the same faraway gaze he had minutes ago when Alfred first brought out the dishes. It was as if he wasn't seeing what was in front of him, but like he was looking at something past him... or thinking of something.

Bruce looked blankly back up to Alfred.

If looks could talk, Alfred's eye roll screamed 'oh for crying out loud'... The butler sighed and moved his eyebrows harder in the direction of the boy, trying everything he could to get any kind of conversation going. It was painful to see such awkward silence in the room, even if he had gone decades living in it.

The billionaire took the hint.

He cleared his throat and smiled kindly over towards Dick, "So... Dick... How's school going?"

Again, the look of frustration was very evident on the servant's face. So much so that he sighed again and took his leave, mumbling under his breath at the brilliance of the comment. Sarcasm dripped from his tone...

Dick looked up at Bruce, blinking twice at the question.

"Oh, um... it's good"

Bruce took that as a good sign.

"That's good"

The two had returned to their meals, one of them chewing with more interest than the other. It wasn't until Bruce glanced over and caught Alfred's direct glare of annoyance that he even bothered to try again with the boy.

"Hey, um", Bruce spoke up again, getting the message loud and clear, "Are you alright? You seem distracted tonight"

The pre-teen smiled again, but it was a very tight forced smile, Bruce could tell. Like there was something on his mind but he was doing his best not to bother anyone with it.

"No, I'm fine"

"... Okay..."

However, as Bruce took another bite, he made sure to keep an eye on Dick. He watched him lift his fork to his mouth and nibble slowly. It was obvious something was on the boy's mind... very obvious. But, instead of addressing it outwardly, he decided to just observe:

Dick Grayson pushed his fork back and forth, moving the peas around in a pile through the sauce of the protein, then spread them out again, like they were dancing on the plate around the other foods. His left pointer finger tapped once, twice, three times against the table, an agitated twitch that gave away a twinge of nervousness or anxiousness or... something... Then, furthermore, his mouth moved crookedly, like he was alternating between biting his cheeks and pursing his lips. It was curious also, Bruce saw, that the boy's posture shifted, like he was internally debating whether or not to sit up straight and talk or slump over and shut down. Dick's mouth would open in a silent word, his muscles would relax... then it would shut and tighten again... then open... He'd bite his cheek... He'd purse his lips... His shoulders raised... then fell again...

It was humorous, really, to watch the young boy struggle valiantly between wanting to open up and get whatever it was off his chest and closing up and continuing his meal in silence... humorous enough that Bruce had to do everything in his power not to laugh out loud as he watched the performance with utmost patience, choosing not to say anything to the contrary. He settled for a sip of his water instead to cover up his amused grin.

Finally, the floodgates opened.

Dick sighed heavily and put down his fork.

"Okay, there is something bothering me"

Bingo

"What is it?", Bruce asked kindly, setting down his glass.

The boy bit his lip and shrugged. He was openly embarrassed, Bruce figured, judging by his awkward posture and nervous brow.

"Well...", Dick began scratching his neck, "I was wondering if maybe... I dunno... yoooouuu could help me with something? Like, maybe give me some advice?"

Mr. Wayne smiled warmly down to his ward, nodding. It wasn't often Dick had asked him for advice for anything, so it filled him with a glowing fulfilment to know he was needed.

"Of course, Dick. What do you need help with?"

With that one question, Bruce watched as the boy flushed, his face turning abnormally red. It wasn't often the former trapeze artist was shy about anything, but whatever he was inquiring about, whatever was tearing him up inside, must be something big to cause him such outward timidness. Dick sat up straighter and fiddled with his fingers, a bashful side glance focused on Bruce as the next word out of his crookedly apprehensive mouth was less of a statement and more of a hopeful question.

"... Girls?"

Well that was unexpected...

Bruce's surprise was written all over his face, his eyes widening and his mouth in the famous O shape. He sat up straighter and blinked at the boy's quirky cheese bathed in nervous anticipation.

"Girls?"

"Y-yeah", Dick clarified again, trying to be more confident, "I mean... You seem like you're pretty good with girls, s-so I figured I'd ask you"

A snort off to the side made Bruce rotate his attention. Alfred covered his tracks and coughed, sniffling twice. He batted his eyes and adjusted his shirt.

"My apologies, sirs. Must be the lingering dust in this old mansion. I will remind myself to go over this dining hall again tomorrow"

Dust... right...

"Oh, um", Bruce ignored the obvious commentary from his butler and turned back to Dick with an uncertain smile of his own, "Really? I mean, you want to know about girls?"

Dick was twelve years old. Just about the time when he really started to notice girls for less than just their recess camaraderie and more for their changing physiques. It was a natural process, Bruce knew, but it was admittedly something that caught up to him faster than he thought he'd have to deal with, even if he hadn't had the young boy in his house since he was born. Three years in the manor really did zoom by.

And here he was... becoming a man.

Or at least a hormonal teenager.

"Well, yeah", Dick said, "So... what do I do?"

Bruce raised an eyebrow, "What do you mean 'do'?"

"Like... How do I impress them? You impress girls all the time so you have to know what to do"

Another louder snort made Bruce give a sideways glare towards his butler, but just as before the older man covered it up and went about his business dusting said room he claimed needed dusting. Bruce ignored the humorous twinge to his butler's mouth and turned back to the eager boy with a kind smile.

"Well, um... Let's see...", the billionaire struggled to find the right words. He put down his fork and leaned forward on his elbows, considering what to say, "I guess it comes down to... Um... Well, you see it's kind of... It's..."

Well, this is going smoothly, Bruce thought dryly to himself, How the heck do I do this? I wasn't prepared for any of this. What do I tell him?

"I think what Master Bruce is trying to say", Alfred interrupted properly, his amusement not quite hidden, "is that impressing women is a very complex manner, one that needs to be tailored to the individual interest that seems to have caught your attention, young sir"

Bruce watched as Alfred gave him a direct wink and he instantly caught on. Smiling, he turned back to his ward.

"Exactly. That's right. So... is there a girl in particular you're fond of?"

Dick shrunk further, blushing. Apparently that was the problem, they noticed. Biting his lip again, the boy gave a half shrug, his eyes down to the table.

"Well... there is one girl..."

Bingo

Bruce smiled encouragingly, "I guess what you need to do is find the things that would impress this girl, then. What is she interested in? Any hobbies?"

Lifting his head, the boy seemed to grow more confident the more he spoke about this girl, even smiling more.

"So... She's really into gymnastics. And animals. And school work. She loves school. And police work, I guess. Like investigating and solving mysteries and stuff. Kinda like we are, but not really the same way", he gave a knowing smirk, "She's super smart and funny and really, really pretty. But", he frowned, "She's a couple years older than me so I don't even know if she likes me the same way I like her. I guess I just don't know what to do"

That was the most Dick had spoken all night, a flood of information given about this secret crush of his. The more he opened up, the more Bruce smiled. When the boy was finished talking, his guardian chuckled and nodded.

"Well, that is a lot of information. But, don't worry. Things take time. Besides, you're a great kid, I'm sure she'll come around"

Dick blushed again, seeking more, "But... what do I do to impress her?"

"Maybe perhaps some lessons in being a proper gentleman are in order?"

Once again, Bruce looked over at the innocent face Alfred could easily muster through his guilty pushing, covering his crooked smile as professionally as he could. Raising an eyebrow at the older man's poised covert nudges, he knew what he was doing...

"Really?", Dick beamed excitedly, "You think that'll help?"

"Absolutely, Master Dick", the butler smiled to match, "And Master Bruce is just the person up for the grand task. After all, as you have observed, he does 'impress the girls' often, so he must know what being in a steady and healthy relationship is all about. Isn't that correct, sir?"

If looks could kill...

Dick was either oblivious to Bruce's death scowl at the butler or he ignored it, but he lit up all the same at the new plan.

"Would you? That'd be awesome!"

Slowly rotating back to the young exuberant boy, the billionaire's hardened glare morphed into a too-bright grin, hiding his insecurity in relationships- the thing Alfred knew all too well. He gulped and nodded.

"Sure thing, kiddo. How about we start tomorrow?"

"Naaaaah", Dick waved it off, laughing too hard, "We can start now! So what do I do? What's lesson number one? Do I have to smile differently? Do I have to walk differently? I don't think I can walk any different than I do now, but I can try. Do I have to buy her stuff? What do I say? Do I say she has pretty teeth? Would that be weird?"

Alfred could see Bruce's eye twitch...

****

"Okay, Dick... Show me what you got"

The young daredevil cleared his throat, took a big breath, puffed out his chest, opened his mouth and...

"......"

Bruce watched Dick freeze. The boy clammed up, his mouth wide open for a few moments of silence. Quickly realizing his awkwardness, he shut it just as fast, his cheeks turning pink.

He had nothing.

Bruce scratched his chin at his ward's uncomfortable presentation of how much 'game' he apparently did not have. It wasn't for lack of good looks; Dick definitely had no problem attracting attention, especially at the galas and parties the Wayne Foundation threw. Perhaps Dick's confidence only worked when he was kicking the bad guy's butts.

"Ooookay... Let's try something new"

They had decided to make a day of it, hoping to try out some real world lessons on acting like a gentleman. True, Dick had attended several Wayne Foundation galas and parties and balls to know how to interact with the elite of Gotham, including how to put up a rich-boy front and facade the way the 'snobby money bags' expected him to be, but he wasn't quite sure on what to do when it came to his own peers... especially the ladies. And even though he wanted to start right away, Bruce promised him they'd start fresh in the morning.

Which apparently also included the younger man eagerly waiting outside the bedroom chamber door of his guardian until he woke up... much to the billionaire's surprise.

Bruce and Dick walked down the city's shopping district where you could count on it being somewhat respectable at least most times of the year. They passed store windows and business fronts, talking and practicing along the way.

"How about you give someone a compliment?", Bruce suggested.

Dick considered it, then countered innocently, "But, I give people compliments all the time"

"I mean a real one. And not to someone forty years old than you who gives to charities"

".... oh..."

Mr. Wayne smiled and looked around, then saw over to the side there was a younger girl who stood with a group of friends... more girls. The young blonde and her friends seemed to be about his ward's age, something that he could definitely work with. He leaned down to Dick and gestured in their direction.

"There. How about you walk over and tell her she looks pretty?"

That might have been the most ridiculous idea Dick had ever heard, judging by his blatant gasp of incredulity.

"WhAt?! Are you kidding me? I can't just walk up to a strange girl and tell her she looks good! Are you nuts?"

"Well", Bruce shrugged, not seeing the problem, "It's a good opportunity to give someone a compliment"

"Yeah, but she's surrounded by her friends!", Dick pointed, his eyes bugging out with fear, "Do you know what a group of girls can do to a guy who makes a fool of himself?! Nuh uh! I don't think so!"

"Oh, I think you're overthinking this"

"No, I'm under-thinking this! Overthinking would mean I thought about how they take pictures and tease me and follow me around forever calling me names... which I had thought of!"

As the younger man went on a rampage of how the incident could go down in the history books as the most embarrassing thing that could happen to his adolescent life, Bruce couldn't help but find it humorous. He gave a chuckle and patted the anxious boy's shoulders to calm him down.

"Okay, okay, okay... You win. We find something else", Bruce had pondered a new idea, scratching his chin for a thought. When one did pop up, he snapped his fingers, "I know. If there's one thing I can count on to be a success with ladies, it's that they always enjoy when men do something nice for them. Giving them gifts, for example"

"... So then how come you don't have a girlfriend?"

"......."

"......."

"Oh, look, there are flowers up ahead. How about we get one and you can give it to someone as a kind gesture?"

".... Is that what you said to your last girlfriend?"

"........"

To say things weren't going too hot would be an understatement.

They had tried everything Bruce could think of:

Compliments

While the teenage girl ploy didn't work out, Dick inadvertently gave a compliment to the older lady at the cash register regarding her politeness, only to receive a borderline bruising cheek pinch in return for how 'adorable' he was.

Kind Gestures

This was something that should be a foolproof situation. Should be... While Dick was gracious enough to hold the door open for a girl or two walking by, he didn't count on a whole horde of shoppers to strut past with the expectation that the young 'doorman' would continue to do so for them... Therefore, nearly five minutes later, Dick finally left the glass entryway door with a grunt of frustration and walked over to his guardian who was struggling to keep a straight face.

Lavish Gifts

Flowers weren't quite the show of affection Dick was too thrilled about, especially when the flower he did try to give to someone (per Bruce's pushing) ended up with a bee stinging the girl's nose, resulting in the lovesick acrobat being shoved into the bushes nearby.

At least it wasn't a total loss with the gifts. Dick knew his crush was into reading, like big time! A massive book worm. Problem was, he wasn't sure what kind of books she was into, so they needed four bags to account for the multitude of genres that could possibly satisfy her craving as they walked out of the nearest bookstore.

"Bruce, it's hopeless... Face it, I'm a total failure in the love department. Every time I tried to impress some random girl today I ended up looking like a total idiot. Just have Alfred make me a bunch of Robin suits so I can live in them every day..."

The billionaire rolled his eyes at the dry defeatist comment, even if he did find it funny. The poor boy was struggling. While his courage and bravery worked wonders in his nighttime escapades, it wasn't translating to his civilian life, especially in the lady land.

"Oh, come on, Dick. It was just one day, and you did fine. Besides, all you need to do is–"

He stopped talking when he realized his ward wasn't by him anymore. Looking back, Bruce saw that Dick had also stopped walking. Instead of continuing by his side, his ward's gaze was redirected to a bench over on the other side of the street.

On the bench was a girl.

The girl in question, under more observation, had been crying. Or, was still crying. The young brunette had her knees up to her chest, her arms wrapped around them. Her head was down, but each time she lifted it up tears were obviously staining her face. She looked as if she had experienced something rough, they both noticed; something rough that would cause her to be all alone on a bench in a not-so-nice part of Gotham.

Dick watched her, his heart going out to the girl. He had no idea what possessed him to move, but before he knew it he was walking across the street in her direction.

Bruce, curious to see where this was going, followed.

Sniffling on the bench, the young girl was oblivious to the new company until she heard a throat clearing... and a voice.

"Um... excuse me? Are you okay?"

Shooting up like a rocket at the interruption, the girl's eyes stared up at Dick. Her large green eyes were bloodshot from crying too much and her brown hair was mussed up, needing a comb to tend to it. She sniffled again and drew closer to herself, nodding. She still didn't say a word.

"Cuz", Dick calmly took two steps forward and continued talking, "It doesn't seem like you are..."

The girl was clearly guarded in both her posture and facial expression, but she straightened herself up and wiped her tears to keep up the impression that she was okay. In a meek voice that feigned strength, she spoke up.

"I'm fine"

Dick considered her words, knowing they weren't true. He smiled kindly anyway and held out a hand.

"I'm Dick. What's your name?"

The girl stared at him, wondering why in the world he wasn't leaving her alone. Although, there was something about his smile and his soothing voice that made her feel warm. He wasn't threatening in any kind of way, and he wasn't sitting next to her. While he wasn't leaving, there was an air of graciousness and charity that wasn't rude, obnoxious, or pushy in any way. Feeling calmer about his presence, she held out her hand.

"Lindsay"

Dick smiled wider and gestured to the bench, "May I sit down?"

At first, she hesitated, but only for a few seconds. Nodding, she scooted over and allowed the boy to sit. Lindsay watched as he sat down, but not too close. He was keeping his distance, something that she found confusing and welcoming at the same time.

"So, ummm", Dick began tapping his knees, "I'm sorry, but I couldn't help you to see you're upset by something. Is there anything I can help with?"

Lindsay blinked at his boldness. But, it wasn't a harsh boldness. He spoke in a way that was clear and concise and genuine, like he truly wanted to help. She found herself relaxing her knees in his presence, her guard loosening with each word.

"N-no... I'm fine..."

The boy nodded and continued to sit, without another word. He kept his blue eyes on her, though. Lindsay saw he wasn't badgering... he wasn't pressing... which in turn made her open up.

"It's my dad"

Dick became alert at her words. He was now invested. His first thought, upon seeing her dirty clothes and disheveled hair, immediately went to parental abuse. It seemed as if she had been through something traumatizing. Carefully, he began to prod for answers, putting on his detective hat among the red flags that popped up.

"Your dad? What's wrong?"

"It's just that... He's...", she sighed heavily, relaxing her knees to a cross-legged position, "Well, my mom died two years ago next month. There was a car accident... Anyway, now, my dad is remarrying. Aaaand I kinda don't like her but I don't know what to say because he likes her. Obviously, he asked her to marry him, duh..."

Whoa, that's a lot, Dick blinked. She had just gone from 'clammed up' to 'open book' in seconds. Granted, he was beyond relieved it wasn't anything like her dad beating her; just a simple matter of step-mom syndrome.

"The problem is, she tries to do all this nice stuff for me, like buy me clothes and jewelry and things and...", Lindsay wrung her hands together, "And I know she's trying to get me to like her, but I just don't... She's not my real mom, ya know? How can I think of someone like a mom that's not my real mom just cuz she died?"

If Dick had put money down he would experience this conversation today he would have made a billionaire dollars on the spot. Slowly, he took in her words and couldn't help but feel unbelievably connected to them. After all, he was not quite in a dissimilar situation.

"Oh, um... Well..."

"Sorry, sorry", Lindsay brought her knees up again, "I shouldn't have put that all on you. Heck, I don't even know you and I just told you all that stuff... I guess I just overshare way too much... Sorry"

Dick felt for her, he really did. He understood this situation more than she realized; maybe not entirely as far as the new marriage, but he understood what it was like to have a surrogate parent/guardianship in the wake of both your mother and father passing away. He bit his lip and quelled his own emotions, then put on a smile and looked up at her.

"Hey, it's okay. I kinda know what it's like, I mean"

Lindsay looked at him, her green eyes widening, "Did your dad remarry too?"

"Well, no...", the boy gave a crookedly shy smile before it turned downcast, "Both my parents died three years ago. So... I know what it's like to lose a mom. And a dad"

Gasping quietly, the girl lit up at her words.

"So while I don't know what it's like to have a parent remarry, I do know what it's like to have a new home... It can be scary and unfamiliar and pretty lonely", Dick softly admitted, the not so distant memories of moving into the big empty manor very vivid, "But once you get used to it it's not so bad. You might end up liking it. Or loving it", he smiled up to her, his kind blue eyes holding her attention, "Nothing can compare to the mom you lost, but if you give your dad's new wife a chance maybe she can become something close enough. Kinda like what Bruce is to me"

Lindsay considered his advice. Slowly chewing on the thought of opening up to her dad's new love, she started to smile.

"Wow, that's... that's actually really helpful. Thanks"

Dick grinned back, "You're welcome", then he frowned and pointed to her outfit's appearance, "But, I gotta ask. Are you sure you're okay?"

Upon seeing her own dirty outfit, she gave a humorous snort and rolled her eyes, "Ooh, yeah. I'm super clumsy and tripped over a bush running away from home today", then caught his relief and laughed more, "Don't worry, my dad's not beating me or anything if that's what you thought"

Nodding along as if that was exactly what he thought, Dick visibly relaxed, "Good to hear"

Lindsay took a good look at the random boy who plopped down beside her and gave her some wisdom beyond his years. And some words stuck out to her.

"Sorry about your parents, though. It must be tough to lose both of them. But it sounds like you got an awesome new dad"

Pausing, Dick considered the label... Dad... While there was certainly no mother in the house, there was a father-figure. Two, in fact. While at first Bruce took him in as a show of sympathy to avoid an unpredictable placement in the foster system after the loss of his parents, their relationship, along with Alfred, had grown into somewhat of an adopted family he could learn to trust... and love. At first it was scary and lonely, but the more he grew accustomed to its walls – and its basement cave– the more it truly felt like home to him. Alfred and Bruce had welcomed him with open arms, the latter sharing a similar trauma he was able to relate to... which is just what Dick shared with Lindsay.

Bruce really was there for him. Like right now, he was doing his best to try to teach him how to impress girls. It was failing miserably, but it was the thought that counted... Dick smiled and nodded as the warmth spread through his body at how lucky he really was.

"Yeah... He is pretty awesome"

Lindsay stood up and smiled, "Well, I guess I better get back home... Dad and Carla are probably pretty worried about me. I took off after breakfast without telling them, soooo..."

"Yeah", Dick agreed, joining her off the bench, "Sounds like a good idea"

The brunette girl beamed, "Thanks for everything, Dick. I really appreciate the advice"

"Anytime, Lindsay"

"See ya around, hopefully"

"See ya around"

She waved and took off down the street, only pausing at the corner to wave again. Dick returned the gesture as she disappeared around and out of sight, then he shoved his hands into his pockets and stood there for just a few more moments, thinking about everything he just said to her. When he turned around to walk back, he looked up and saw a familiar face staring back at him. It was obvious his guardian had listened in on the exchange between the two teens, causing the younger man to flush with embarrassment as he thumbed over his shoulder towards the corner.

"O-oh... Sorry. She just looked like she needed help, that's all"

Bruce couldn't look prouder if he tried. The widest, most caring smile stretched across his face. He just stood there, his arms crossed, bags at his feet. At first, Dick wasn't sure what the older man was so silent about, but then he chuckled and walked closer.

"You know what? I now understand why my advice wasn't working for you"

Dick raised an eyebrow at his guardian, "What do you mean?"

Placing a supporting hand on his ward's shoulder and leaned over to his height, the older man beamed, "You asked me for advice on how to impress girls. But none of what I could say would work on you. Because none of it was real. Gifts, compliments, kind gestures? Dick, you don't need to be given any advice on how to impress people"

The blue-eyed boy watched as his guardian's smile grew warmer, his tone softening.

"All you need to do is everything you just did. All you need to do is be yourself... Because when you do that, you impress everyone"

Dick considered those words, thoughtfully looking down at the ground. When Bruce squeezed his shoulders, he looked back up at the older man's affectionate grin.

"I can tell you one thing, though. You're one heck of a great young man, Dick, and nothing makes me prouder than seeing you just be you. Everyone is lucky just to be in the same room as you, I promise you that"

It was amazing to hear that. Dick beamed, his chest filling with happiness at his guardian's words.

"Thanks, Bruce"

Mr. Wayne gave another gentle squeeze before releasing his hand. Reaching down, he picked up two bags of books while the boy grabbed the other two. Side by side, they started walking back down the sidewalk towards the car, each lost in their own thoughts on what just transpired: the conversation with the girl, the warm acknowledgements after, an entire three years of knowing each other up until this point, and everything in between, including the true lessons on impressing people.

After a few moments of comfortable quietness, the young boy spoke up.

"Soooooo... Does this mean you'll be coming to me for advice from now on?"

Bruce couldn't stop laughing.

****

"Alfred, this tie just doesn't feel right"

"Master Bruce, it's on backwards"

"How the heck do you put a tie on backwards?"

"..... really sir? After all these years do you seriously have to ask that?"

"Well, I–"

"Nevermind..."

Alfred Pennyworth had just finished preparing and readying both his charges for the gala tonight. Another night for another Wayne Foundation and Charities Ball. Another night for pompous and pretentious party-goers to throw around their money and their wealth in front of each other, flaunting their status like a peacock trying to attract a mate... or in their case, a new cause.

Bruce Wayne had attended more galas than he could count, both as a guest and as a host. He knew it was part of the deal, being CEO of Wayne Enterprises and the wealthiest elite in the city, but he would be more comfortable in the dark cave or on the streets of Gotham in a cape, beating criminals to a pulp. Instead, he had to parade around and put on the playboy facade in a display of pure aristocratic tomfoolery.

If only they knew...

"Bruce, Alfred, I'm all ready"

Both men looked at the door towards the young boy standing there, prim and proper and dressed to impress, for sure. Both men were also extremely surprised with how little Dick had put up a fight getting into the 'monkey suit', as he so affectionately labeled the three piece tux he absolutely abhorred with all his soul.

"Master Dick, you look appropriately presentable tonight", Alfred complimented him, "And it seems as if you're done a wonderful job on the tie, young man. Clearly my teachings have done you a service"

"Thanks, Alfred. Soooo, I'll be downstairs", Dick thumbed out into the hall while Bruce sent a side-glare towards his butler, "I can get some stuff set up if you want"

"Nonsense, young Master. I shall be down post haste, lest Master Bruce's tie troubles persist. Nevertheless, you may make your way down to the ball room"

Dick saluted and took off without another word, making both older men give each other a very curious look.

"My my, he does seem more eager tonight than any other night. Usually he's chomping at the bit to escape these ghastly ordeals. I wonder why the change in heart"

"He told me the girl he has a crush on will be here tonight, Alfred", Bruce smirked knowingly, adjusting the tie Alfred had just placed correctly, "And I know he's very nervous about it"

"Aaaah, I see. Well, we shall give him all the support in the world for a successful evening with the young lady"

Bruce chuckled and started walking towards the door with his butler on his heels, "Can't wait to meet her"

Guest after guest arrived, shaking each other's hands, patting each other on the back, complimenting each other's massive endorsement for this or donation for that or funding for whatever. A true chest pounding among the elite.

It made Dick gag.

However, tonight was different. As he stood in the waiting by his guardian, looking as put together as ever, Dick surveyed the crowd, his nervous eyes scanning for a very particular guest. He had begun to sweat, which was never a good thing. At least he piled on the deodorant for extra safe precautions. That plus the overabundance of mouthwash that burned all the way down to his toes at least gave the impression that he was more confident than he really was.

"Do you see her yet?"

He sighed and shook his head at his guardian's whisper, "No"

"Well, I'm sure she will be soon. The guest list is nearly all checked off"

The Boy Wonder slumped.

But... then... he saw her!

"There she is", Dick whisper-yelled, taking a step back to take cover behind his mentor, "She's here!"

Bruce smiled, outwardly finding it adorable how incredibly nervous the boy was. He put his palm behind Dick's back and practically shoved him out onto the floor.

"Well, here's what you've been waiting for. Go for it, kiddo. You got this"

"But! But! But!"

"No buts", Bruce reminded him, his grin both crookedly teasing and warmly encouraging, "You can do this. Besides, remember the advice I gave you?"

Dick stared at him.

"Your advice sucked"

Bruce narrowed his eyes at the deadpan snarky remark, "I meant the one about being yourself, Dick. Just do that and you'll be fine"

It was true. That advice did sit well with you. Taking a deep breath, Dick looked back over to the girl who had just walked through the door. Releasing it heavily, trying to quell his nerves and calm his anxious spirit, he felt one more big pat on the back from his mentor before stumbling forward in search of his beautiful lady.

Bruce watched as he walked away, smiling outwardly at the young man his ward had grown to be. While it had only been three years, he felt like it had been a lifetime Dick had lived with them. And throughout those years, watching Dick mature and blossom, he couldn't be prouder, really, of how truly well-mannered, kind, caring, empathetic, sweet, and–

"Wait?! He has a crush on the Commissioner's daughter?!"

Chapter Text

*******

Seven weeks

It had been seven weeks since the incident on the amusement park pier that ended in absolute chaotic terror. What started as a normal stake out for a suspected extortion ring led to a bloodbath of frightening proportions, putting young Dick Grayson on medical bed rest for quite some time.

However, nearly two months later, the college boy was on his road to recovery. Dick was lucky enough to stay home in the manor, remaining around both his surrogate guardians, Bruce and Alfred. Each day he walked around more and more, gaining his strength back. At this point, he was starting to feel somewhat normal, even. Just not normal enough for a patrol out as the Boy Wonder.

Dick finished pouring himself a cup of coffee, savoring the aroma of the beans that lifted his tight grin. Coffee in hand, he grabbed his school books off the nearby table and made his way over towards the Den area where a lovely fireplace was set up. Alfred was kind enough to get it going earlier with the promise made by the young boy he would keep it going. Perfect for a frigid December night.

Or early morning.

It was 2:00 am.

Dick carefully sat back, positioning himself on the comfortable recliner. With his feet propped up, textbook in lap, coffee in hand, he sighed a breath of content that he finally felt peace.

“I thought you would be in bed by now.”

Turning to the voice just as he was about to take his first sip, he saw Bruce Wayne stroll into the room. Dick smiled at the familiar face.

“Calling it an early night, huh?”

“Hardly.” Bruce retorted, plopping into the chair. He looked weary and tired as he ran a hand over his face. With a heavy sigh he fell backwards, letting his head drop on the backrest. Dick watched as he didn’t say a word, then frowned.

“That bad out there?”

“More annoying than anything. It's as if every penny-anty thief decided tonight was the night to rob every store in Gotham.”

“Well, tis the season.”, Dick raised his coffee and took a sip, “Christmas is only a few weeks away.”

Bruce’s eyes lit up. The quick realization that he had completely forgotten the upcoming holiday smacked him in the face.

Of course he would forget Christmas… it wasn’t as if the signs were all there. Trees decorated in the house, the lights all over the city, Santa’s ringing bells on every corner, carolers around every block… the calendar…

Dick saw this. Somewhat humored, he scoffed, “Don’t tell me you forgot it’s almost Christmas..." When Bruce didn’t respond again, he rolled his eyes. “Aaaand we can make that ten Christmases in a row you forgot until the last minute.”

“I didn’t forget.” Bruce sat up indignantly, but upon seeing Dick’s knowing smirk behind the mug of coffee, he knew it was true. He still tried to cover it up, “I just had other things on my mind.”

“Liiiiiike?”

Bruce looked like he didn’t want to give any details, but after remembering what had just transpired the last time he kept information from his ward, he resigned to respond and sat up. Dick noticed the seriousness in his expression, holding his coffee still for the answer. He watched as his guardian leaned forward and rested his arms on his knees, his shoulders bent over. Definitely a very serious moment. Taking a breath and releasing it slowly, Bruce spoke up quietly.

“Tony Zucco’s trial has been set for two weeks from tomorrow.”

Dick froze. Slowly, his eyes fell, focusing on a spot elsewhere in front of him but picturing half his life trying to put the man behind bars, bring him to justice. Bruce’s words definitely hit him. Just the name alone was enough to trigger strong emotions of his past; not just the distant past, but the most very recent trauma on the amusement park pier that left him hanging by a thread from a bullet wound. He gulped and nodded.

“Oh… Okay.”

After a few seconds, Bruce went on… this time, his voice drastically more bothered.

“The Commissioner informed me tonight he’s recovered enough from his injury that he can stand trial and face judgment. He also says that with the evidence they have it’ll be swift, not taking any more time than necessary.”

“Well… that’s good news.”

“But”, Bruce went on, just as somber, “they do want witnesses to testify against him for added measure.” raising his eyes, he caught his ward’s look of consternation, “They’ve included you on that list.”

Dick’s posture stiffened. His own blue orbs lit up as his mentor’s stern yet worried eyes held his gaze, hoping to gauge how the older man felt. He most assuredly wanted to put Zucco behind bars, but testifying about it?

“Why?”

“The DA brought up a list of witnesses from Zucco’s crimes over the past decade.” Bruce pointed out, rubbing a hand across the nape of his neck, “Turns out your parents were his first murder. And seeing as how you were the material witness on the circus grounds that put him on scene before it all happened, with firsthand experience how he threatened Haly prior to the tragedy, the new Prosecutor wants you on the stand.”

Dick didn’t know that… He wasn’t aware that his parents were the first ones he murdered. Granted, he wasn’t sure how many more after that Zucco had killed, but it didn’t make him feel any better knowing his parents weren’t the only victims. The first, though? He wasn’t sure how that made him feel.

“Oh…”

But, upon seeing Dick’s still stoic and thoughtful face, Bruce tried to put him at ease.

“The thing is, Gordon only told Batman, not Bruce Wayne, which means you still have some time to think about it until he calls the manor. For the record, I completely understand if you don’t want to. Like I said, the attorneys have enough evidence to put him away without anyone tesif–”

“No.” Dick interrupted sharply, his eyes still wide. He shook his head, bringing himself out of his stupor, and looking at his father-figure straight forward, “I want to do this.” A new hardened determination graced his features, “I have to do this…”, he held his coffee in both hands and leaned forward slightly despite his aching chest, “My whole goal was to put my parents’ killer behind bars… and if this is the way to do it, then I’ll do it.”

Bruce studied Dick as he spoke, so sure of his task and so determined. A swell of honorable pride flowed through him. He smiled sympathetically and nodded, knowing his ward was hell bent on making this work.

“Okay. When Jim calls tomorrow with the news, try to act like it’s the first time you’re hearing it.”

Dick nodded, but then smirked, “Don’t you mean later today?”

Bruce exhaled heavily and stood, not even bothering to respond. He knew how late it was. But, just as he let the time sink in, he gestured with his head towards the rest of the house, “Come on. It’s late. How about you head to bed?”

Shaking his head, his ward leaned back, “In a little bit. It’s been a while since I actually felt comfortable. Plus, I have some catching up to do on my classwork.”

“You know, we told you you could withdraw from the semester while you heal.”

“Ehh, yeah I know, but it’s okay. I actually like these classes.” Dick acknowledged, opening his textbook, “Besides, while I’m laid up there’s nothing else for me to do. Might as well study for finals so I’m not too far behind.”

Bruce smiled and nodded, “Don’t stay up too late.”

“If I do, I’ll just make breakfast for everyone.”

His quirky comment elicited a small chuckle in Bruce’s throat. He nodded and said goodnight. However, just before he rounded the corner, he turned back and caught a glimpse of Dick as the boy sipped his coffee, turning the pages in his book, the fire roaring in front of him. Bruce knew he didn’t say it all that often, but he would make it a point throughout this new stressful ordeal to tell Dick he was proud of him.

****

Tap

Tap

Tap

A rhythmic tapping echoed down the hall of Stonegate Penitentiary, its short staccato beat representative of the lonely aura of the prison. The guard marched down the hallway, a metal tray full of food in his hands.

Finally, after several moments of the march of solitude, the guard approached a cell, stopping at its doors. Lifting a key, he unlocked the metallic door and opened it, walking inside.

“Time for your grub.”

The metal tray slammed onto the small table, its contents of corn, chicken, and greens shifting at the force. The guard looked up and saw the prisoner on the bed, still unmoving. Narrowing his eyes, he placed his hands on his hips and addressed him again.

“Yo, creep. Come and get it.”

Anthony Zucco lifted his head, his beady eyes trained on the guard who stood by waiting. With a low grumble of annoyance, Zucco stood up and walked over to take the tray, not so much as a thank you.

The guard rolled his eyes and went to turn to leave, but not before he got in some kind of comment.

“So, I hear your trial’s been expedited. Two weeks, huh?”

“Whoopdifreakingdo.”

Clearly the criminal wasn’t amused. He chewed on his chicken without making eye contact, but the guard kept talking.

“They’re gonna have some witnesses to put your kiester away for good.”

Zucco rolled his eyes, not bothering to respond anymore. The guard smirked and turned around, closing the door behind him.

****

“Morning, Alfred. Morning, Bruce.”

Wayne glanced up from his newspaper to see his ward walking into the dining area. It wasn’t exactly late, but it was later than he had expected the young man to wake up. That being said, he had been staying up later in the evenings to study for his finals recently. The last few days were no exception.

“Good morning, Master Dick. Or should I say a nearly good afternoon?”, their butler greeted, placing a full plate of delicious smelling food on the table for him, “I trust you slept well?”

“Eh, as good as I have been.”

“What time did you end up going to bed?”

Dick considered his guardian’s question as he sat down, “Hmm, maybe 4:00?”

“Oh dear me, what an ungodly hour.” Alfred chided, filling Dick’s cup of coffee, “Must you stay up that late?”

“Only just to annoy you, Alfred.” The boy’s wink and a smirk was very telling, enough to make the butler roll his eyes.

“And that, I must admit, is something you have grown to excel at, Master Dick.”

The young man humored the situation even further with a snarky response. “Finally, something I’m good at! Although I’m sure you’re happier I was crushing the books instead of skulls.”

“A preferable trade off, of course.”

Bruce could only smile at the back and forth, adjusting his newspaper as Dick picked up a fork to enjoy the brunch that was placed in front of him. Letting his thoughts return to their task today, his smile flattened, remembering the visit to the Commissioner’s office they were slated to do in just a short time… After his initial phone call days ago informing Dick of his potential for testimony, Gordon offered him to come in for a 'trail' run of questioning to prepare.

When they arrived at the Police Headquarters, Jim Gordon was the first to greet the duo.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Wayne. Hey, Dick, how’s it going?”

The young man shook the older man’s hand, after his mentor, and smiled kindly, “It’s going okay, thanks.”

However, even though the black-haired boy said everything was okay, Gordon noticed a slight stiffness to his walk and an edge to his expression. He raised an eyebrow and commented while gesturing for them to follow.

“You sure about that? You look like you’ve been put through the ringer recently.”

Now Bruce didn’t want to give anything away, especially about the life-threatening injury the Commissioner assumed (knew, let’s face it) Robin had nearly two months ago, so he simply placed an arm around his boy’s shoulders and played it off like it was a normal case of not enough sleep.

“Oh, he was just up way past the time he should have gone to bed. Too busy studying hard for his first semester finals coming up. Can’t keep these kids down, can we Jim?”

Dick played along, beaming brightly. To be fair, it wasn’t a lie. He really did go to bed incredibly late (or super early). He just didn’t need to elaborate.

“That we can’t, Wayne.” Gordon agreed, opening the door to his office, “I know my Barbara’s a book worm in her own right. Always studying, always writing papers, researching whatever she can get her hands on. Very curious about the world, that one.” He gestured for both men to take their seats, “Now, speaking of researching whatever we get our hands on, how about we focus on the task at hand, shall we?”

As Dick and Bruce sat down, watching Jim move to behind his desk, the younger man couldn’t help feeling bothered by something.

“Commissioner, if there’s enough evidence to put Zucco away for good, why do we need to prepare for the trial with witnesses?”

Gordon sighed and steepled his fingers, leveling with the curious college boy. Granted, Dick knew very well why witnesses prepared beforehand, having been privy to classified information regarding testimonies as the Boy Wonder behind the scenes, but he wanted to hear from the police commissioner’s mouth why for his own civilian sake.

“Well, Dick, I’m not going to lie to you. Yes, there’s enough evidence of corruption and crime to put Tony Zucco away for a long time, but his supposed ‘attorney’ of his is crooked. Not even that, but he’s rumored to have taken a buyout to get him off on a technicality.”

Bruce frowned, “Technicality? What technicality?”

“They’re claiming he’s crazy. Mentally unstable.”

“So…” Dick tried to see his point, an unsettling pinch formed in his stomach, “You’re saying that they’re trying to claim he didn’t know what he was doing? That he didn’t mean to do what he did to my parents?”

Jim could see the furrowing of the younger man’s brow the more he tried to rationalize the reality. Exhaling heavily, he dropped his hands and nodded. Bruce looked over to Dick who couldn’t help but stare blankly at the desk. He knew what his ward was feeling, even if he tried to keep it all inside. The younger boy wore his emotions on his sleeve most of the time; right now, Bruce could tell that Dick was experiencing furious frustration with the system, haunted pain from his past, and uncertainty and fear of the potential outcome that might not go his way.

“Besides,” Gordon cleared his throat and spoke back up to interrupt the other two’s thoughts, “I know it’s been a while since you’ve seen him in person. After that much time, it can still register as shock. We just want you to be prepared, Dick. Not just with the questions, but how you’re going to act when you see him in court. Is that okay with you?”

Dick shook himself from his thoughts, removing the vision of Zucco sneering over him as he finished threatening Haly, the devilish and hooded eyes of a man with no honest conviction leaving the tent right before the show, or even the final time he faced him on the pier just a short month. Granted, Gordon did not know that Dick had seen Zucco recently, so his comment about seeing him for the first time in half his life was honest and innocent; he had no idea the struggle on the pier that left the red and green hero dangerously injured… But he played along. Lifting his head to meet the commissioner’s seeking eyes, Dick instead smiled confidently to bely his apprehension.

“Well, with everything that’s happened, I don’t see how anyone could say he’s innocent.” Then Dick took a steadying breath and straightened up, “And yeah… I’m ready for this. I want to see him behind bars.”

Gordon smiled and nodded, “Alright. Let’s do this.”

As the commissioner sorted through some papers on his desk, half talking to himself, Dick felt a pressure on his shoulder. Looking up he saw Bruce smiling supportively, his hand squeezing comforting. It felt nice knowing he had his back, and his guardian’s nod made his own grin – and confidence– grow.

After a very stressful yet productive hour later, Bruce Wayne and Dick Grayson left the police headquarters and walked outside into the brisk and chilly air. December was proving to be a ruthless month in Gotham, taking no prisoners in its endeavor to acknowledge winter was on its way. Making their way down the front steps of the building, though, Bruce couldn’t help but catch a glimpse of his ward, studying his stiff posture, his tight mouth, his blank gaze. Without a doubt, after everything they just went over with Commissioner Gordon, Dick looked out of it.

“Everything okay?”

The boy raised his head at the soft question, seeing his guardian’s concerned blue eyes on him. Dick stood up straighter and nodded, hoping he wouldn’t come across as scared in any way.

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

Bruce still kept an eye on his boy as they walked down the street towards the car. He knew Dick was worried, knew this was going to be rough for him. Facing your parents’ killer as a masked vigilante with all the tools and weapons at hand that give you an upper edge in both tactical skills and confidence was one thing. But staring the vicious criminal con man in the face as the young boy who lost his parents at the hands of his selfish extortion attempts was another.

“Hey, I have an idea.” Wayne chimed up after a few moments of silence, “How about we catch a hockey game this afternoon? I know the Gotham Goliaths are home today. What do you say?”

Dick raised his eyes to the man. He knew this was an attempt to get his mind off the stressful situation at hand, which made him chuckle. Bruce wasn’t exactly a fan of hockey, but he knew his ward was. He nodded and agreed, allowing his guardian to put a supportive arm around his shoulder as they walked the next block to their car.

****

“One more week, huh?”

The same guard that had taunted Zucco just as the news broke about his expedited trial was back for more. He opened the door and threw the tray of lunch on the table, nearly spilling the watery soup.

And just like before, Zucco didn’t care to respond with anything other than a noncommittal shrug. Still, the guard persisted, this time with a sneaky grin across his cheeks.

“Ya know, I overheard some higher ups talking about some of the witnesses. One of ‘em even said they’re gonna have that Dick Grayson kid on the stand.”

Even at that name drop, Tony didn’t seem too interested. He gave a quick snort and shrugged indifferently, his gravelly voice scoffing back.

“Who cares? Who the hell is that anyway?”

The guard laughed darkly, even somewhat surprised, “Don’t you remember? Everyone in Gotham knows who dat kid is. He was that circus runt that out-smarted you all those years ago. Last of the Flying Graysons. The one you didn’t kill. Yeah, bet ya didn’t know he’s living with Bruce Wayne, huh? Richest guy in Gotham?”, but seeing no response, he shrugged and turned to open the door to leave, “Oh well, thought you’d wanna know.”

When the guard made his exit, Zucco was left behind to muse over his food… and the name. Slowly stewing on what the guard said, a small imperceptible smile graced his lips. Then, it blossomed larger as more recognition lit up on his face. A brilliant evil smile stretched ear to ear.

“So… The circus brat’s in Gotham, huh? Interesting…”

****

The Batcave was fairly empty, save for the resident flying mammals and one young college boy that held their company.

It had now been eight weeks since the incident on the pier. Dick Grayson had thankfully, gratefully been cleared by Dr. Thompkins for light exercise as he worked on his rehabilitation in the Manor. Naturally, to the former acrobat, the balance beam was one of the first things he felt like trying out. And with the looming trial starting tomorrow morning, he knew the best way to clear his head was to get a great workout in.

While he was busy jumping and leaping on the gymnastic equipment, he didn’t even acknowledge a low roar of an engine rolling down the plank that led to the outside world.

Batman exited the vehicle once he parked, and it took him a few seconds of walking towards his base to recognize that he was not alone. At first, he observed how graceful Dick acted, twisting and leaping back and forth across the beam like an actual professional. But, upon further inspection, he could tell the young man was preoccupied mentally, most likely not thinking clearly. Once he registered how dangerous his flips were becoming, he shook off the prideful admiration in his boy and replaced it with the worry. Dick had begun picking up speed, twirling and tucking a bit faster than Bruce – and by extension, Dr. Thompkins– would like.

Swearing under his breath, Batman ran closer to the workout area. Just in time, too.

Near the end of the beam, Dick’s muscles wobbled from the lack of activity the past several weeks, causing his usually strong grip to loosen slightly. It was a chain effect he couldn’t recalculate for, resulting in an abnormally uneven balance. He tried to fix his footing, but instead of landing correctly the momentum made him fly backwards into the abyss with a yelp of surprise.

“Whoa!”

What he was expecting: to slam on the ground and lay there for quite a while, resituating himself with as little pain and audience as possible. What he didn’t expect was the solid brick wall of flesh that came out of nowhere. Dick let out an oomph as his legs and arms went sideways, his whole body halted by the sudden jerking stop and strong arms tightening around him to stymie his potential crash. When his feet touched the floor to re-right himself, he looked up and saw Batman’s stern face. A sheepish grin crept up his cheeks.

“Oops! H-hey Bruce… Um, thanks for–”

“What in the world do you think you’re doing?”

Dick stood freely and dusted himself off, catching his breath, “Just getting in a little workout, that’s all.”

“You’re supposed to be taking it easy.”

“... and I was.”

“This is not easy.”

The boy looked up to his father-figure’s narrow slits of the mask. Innocently, he shrugged, having been exposed to the Batglare enough times to develop somewhat of an immunity to its effects, “Easy for me, at least.” Then walked away towards the nearby table.

“This isn’t a joke, Dick.”

“I never said it was.” The boy coolly acknowledged over his shoulder. He grabbed the towel and wiped the sweat off his face, settling it around his neck with a firm grip, “Really, Bruce, it’s okay. I’m just–”

The Boy Wonder was quickly cut off when he realized that in the short time it took him to walk over to the table and turn around, he was met with a face full of six-foot-two raging parental material that caught him off guard.

“NO! This is unacceptable!” The taller hero was practically foaming at the mouth, his voice booming more violently the closer he got to the young man’s face, “You’re being careless and haphazard with your recovery! You’re not taking this seriously. The balance beam with no spotter?! Really, Richard?! Leslie told you to take it easy and this is not easy!”, he gestured at the equipment, “It has only been two months since you were shot and nearly died in front of me and this is how you try to recover?! By twisting around like a maniac at full speed to the point where you completely lose control and literally fly off?! If you’re not going to take your rehabilitation cautiously by the books then perhaps I should just bench Robin entirely! What if I wasn’t here just now, huh!? What if you fell?! What if you got hurt?! What if you–”

The very second Bruce began shouting, Dick’s crooked grin erased from his face. The angrier the older man got, the wider his own blues grew to the point where all he could do was openly stare with disbelief at the red face. But when Batman halted mid-sentence, he didn’t dare speak up... Instead, the young boy stared at the man whose gaze dropped to the floor, his mouth shut, his body frozen… at least for a few moments. Without waiting for any return rebuttal, the Caped Crusader’s cape swirled behind him as he stormed over to the computer desk. He sat forcefully in the seat, picking up the incessant tap tapping on the console. It was as if the conversation was shut down before anyone else could pick it up.

Grayson didn’t know what to think… He couldn’t move. Bruce had laid into him before, for sure, sometimes royally, but usually it was about something he could argue back with.

Like last year when he somehow popped a flat tire on his motorcycle… or when he accidentally poured bleach on his mentor’s cape when he was twelve… or when he was too stubborn to stay home from patrol when he had a cold and ended up sneezing so loud he ruined their hideout and caused the criminals to vamoose before they were caught…

This time, it felt different. It felt more direct, more personal. Deeper. That being said, Dick couldn’t help the inner turmoil of emotions that bubbled in his gut. At first, he was shocked, surprised, and confused. Then, he grew angry and offended at the loud baritone in his face, accusing him of not taking things seriously: the mere threat of Robin being taken away from him caused his muscles to tense up so bad his nails tug into his palms. Although soon after the verbal onslaught was over he felt a growing pit of concern and worry that his father-figure was arguing about more than just the workout.

Otherwise, he wouldn’t bring up the whole ‘getting shot and almost dying’ thing and throw it back in his face as if it were his fault.

The young boy zipped his lips and chose not to speak, instead keeping his swirling thoughts and feelings to himself despite the hotness spreading over his face and the stinging behind his eyes. Throwing the towel on the table, Dick chose to leave the conversation… and the room. He knew he shouldn’t be treated that way and he sorely wanted to spit back in his face to argue his point, but he also had enough sense to know that Bruce was right… if the older man wasn’t there he surely would have smacked to the ground.

No, I would have twisted and made it, I would have been fine.

But honestly… he knew it wouldn’t have ended well to some capacity. Did he want to acknowledge that to Bruce? Not a chance in hell…

Bruce did not pay attention to the young man leaving up the stairs without a word in otherwise, refraining from any further comments of his own. He knew he had to focus on the mission he just returned from, the mission of keeping Gotham city streets clean. And if his outburst would keep his own son off the wild track of not taking it easy after an injury, then so be it. He won.

Besides, Zucco’s trial was set to begin tomorrow with Dick being a key witness to testify. There were other things to worry about than the young man’s hurt feelings right now.

“Well, that certainly could have gone better.”

Batman gave an annoyed sigh, not even bothering to acknowledge his butler’s sarcastic tone behind him. Where Alfred came from was anybody’s guess. Although knowing him he was there the whole time.

“Did you know he was doing that?”

Alfred raised an eyebrow at the curt bark, crossing his arms at the back that didn’t even bother to turn around to address him.

“I did.”

“And you allowed him?”

“Master Dick knows his body, sir.”, he countered with matching irritation, “Far be it from me to–”

“He could have been hurt, Alfred!”, the still-masked vigilante shot up from his seat and directed his harsh gaze on his butler, “If I wouldn’t have–”

“If you wouldn’t have what, Bruce?”, Pennyworth snapped back, his decorum slipping. Dropping his arms, he faced the younger man fully, “Yes, yes, if you haven’t been there he could have hurt himself, I understand. But here’s what you are failing to understand: there will always be holes in Richard Grayson’s life when you aren’t there. You’ve proven that time and time again over the last nine and a half years of that boy living in this Manor, in fact. Shall I recount every single moment you’ve disappointed him in some capacity by your absences? For every failed attempt at attending a concert, performance, conference? Missing holidays and casual dinners for the sake of avenging the underworld? No? Therefore, might I suggest that you quit your bellowing and shouting and refrain from continuously seeing fault in that poor boy for trying to rehabilitate his naturally athletic self that has still not learned the art of staying put and instead open up and admit that you’re simply afraid of your own shortcomings which include an incalculable fear of failing as a provider and a protector and, daresay, a father.”

The Dark Knight gave it a few seconds for everything to sink in. Mostly because he didn’t know how to respond. Instead of fighting back to say his peace, he huffed and turned back towards the screen to resume whatever typing he was busy with before.

Alfred, on the other hand, did not let it go.

“Bruce Thomas Wayne, you are thee most stubborn human being I have ever met in my entire life.”, he pointed out coolly, adjusting his bow tie, “Why are you any bit surprised that the very boy you have raised would turn out any differently?”

The white slits of the hero’s mask closed… the typing stopped… Alfred had known he hit the nail on the end on some level, so taking a small victory he chose to gather the plate of half-eaten sandwiches he left out for the young master and retreat upstairs to the manor’s kitchen. With one final glance in his charge’s direction, he gave a nasally sigh to try to calm his own inner stress. It wasn’t often he blew up… but when he did, Bruce and Dick both knew he meant business.

When he knew he was all alone, Bruce reached up and took off his cowl, throwing it on the console. He dragged his hands across his face, resting them on his forehead as he leaned forward on the counter. He knew he shouldn’t have yelled at Dick, that much he reasoned… or rather, Alfred reasoned for him. But he also knew that he was right about the workout being potentially dangerous…

Was it just that?

No…

He knew deep down it was more than that. Way more than just the workout. But would he admit it to Dick just now after everything he just said? After how he acted? After how he allowed his temper to abruptly flare up like an overstuffed volcano?

Also no…

****

Bruce Wayne and Dick Grayson barely said one word to each other in the car ride over to the courthouse. The tension in the air was thick enough with the anxious day ahead, only exacerbated by the tongue lashing the father-figure laid out last night. It was silent enough that each man could practically hear the other’s blood rushing through their veins as their hearts pumped faster and faster the longer the dead air went on.

Finally, Bruce pulled up and parked in the lot behind the courthouse. He chose to give Alfred the day off, mostly due to Alfred’s own insistence that he be the one to drive Dick to the trial instead rather than from the kindness of his own heart.

When the car had stopped, both men remained in silence for a few moments, lost in their own thoughts. Neither one said a word for a small bit of time, perhaps only several seconds. But, by the time Bruce gained enough courage to glance over to his ward for a word of encouragement, Dick was already halfway out of the car. Slamming the door behind him, the boy began walking towards the building alone.

Bruce watched him walk… sighed… and exited the vehicle himself.

The courtroom was packed. Way more crowded than Mr. Wayne had imagined it would be. That being said, Anthony Zucco had committed enough atrocities in his life that he shouldn’t be surprised this many people wanted to see him behind bars for life: not just Dick Grayson.

Speaking of the boy… As he stood by him, still being ignored, Bruce could feel the energy radiating from his smaller frame. The anxious tension in his shoulders, the tight fists, the steely gaze that held an underlying feeling of fear – Dick would dare not admit it– about today’s events were obvious to anyone who really knew him. Bruce wanted to say something to him as they took their seats side by side, but with the way the young man’s posture was closed off and redirected away from him, he knew it wouldn’t do any good.

“All rise. Judge Williker presiding.”

One by one the ones directly involved with the case walked forward.

Dick’s eyes were simultaneously hyper-focused and far away, seeing everything and nothing at the same time. Bruce noted that while the defense and prosecuting attorneys pleaded their cases, presenting evidence for and against for whatever crime they were speaking of, Dick remained unmoving. Only the deep rise and fall of his chest and the clenching of his jaw gave away how he was truly feeling. At one point, though, the murderer glanced over his shoulder at the crowd behind him… and locked eyes with Dick.

It was funny, really… Dick felt zero fear in his chest when he faced down the criminal responsible for his parents death on the pier. But when his blue eyes caught the con man’s sneering grin and gaze in his own, a bout of recognition in those beady eyes staring back at him as if he were the lion that just caught his prey in a trap, Dick couldn’t remove the lump in his throat. Zucco’s darkened eyes peered into his soul, as if he could see the panic and frustration and pain he had caused the young boy all those years ago… and was happy about it.

This time, though, he wasn’t Robin. He was himself… and Dick couldn’t look away.

Bruce saw this, as well, seeing the internal struggle in his boy as he stared down Zucco further up in the courtroom. He felt for him, but dared not say anything. This was Dick’s fight, not his.

After several hours of testimony, the Judge slammed the gavel and called for a thirty minute recess to gather more information and take a break. The court’s audience slowly rose to their feet, a hushed murmuring cascading over the room as they all discussed and commented on the proceedings thus far.

Bruce Wayne did not rise; instead his gaze dropped to his hands, deep in thought as to how everything was going so far. But, when he saw his ward take to his feet, he looked up to the boy who had since remained quiet.

“Where are you going?”

Dick gave a side-eye to his guardian, an emotionless expression on his face. His tone, however, was sarcastic and dry, even somewhat accusatory.

“Bathroom… Do I need protection from the toilet, too?”

Ouch

Bruce ground his teeth at the snarky attitude, but said nothing. Hearing no other complaints or comments, the young boy simply took his leave to the restroom. Wayne watched as he beelined it for the exit door, half slamming it open and disappearing into the hall. Knowing what his ward was going through, from not just today but the ‘conversation’ they had last night in the Batcave, he decided it best not to engage and cause a scene. Dick needed space…

“Wayne, everything okay?”

At the new voice, the billionaire’s eyes found the Commissioner standing over him, a concerned furrow of his brows scrunched on his face. Bruce smiled and cleared his throat, rising to shake his hand.

“Yes, everything is fine. I just think it’s a lot for him, that’s all.”

Jim nodded and sighed through his nose, “Yeah, I bet… But I’m sure we’re almost over. Honestly, I’m surprised it went this long… Then again, knowing Zucco’s lawyer, I shouldn’t be.”

“They’re still trying to get him off on a technicality of mental instability?”

“Pure insanity, in fact…”

Bruce didn’t want to think of the possibility of the Graysons’ murderer walking free on account of pleading mental insanity. It was unfair to the highest extent and it made his skin crawl imagining how his ward would take the news. How he would handle it going forward… It was enough to make you woozy and nauseous.

Meanwhile, out away from the thick tension of the drama unfolding in the courtroom, Dick Grayson finally felt like he could breathe. In the bathroom minutes later, he took a few moments to stare at his reflection in the mirror, picturing everything that had happened to him in the past, how Anthony Zucco literally ruined his life, how things had gone since, and what he would say when it was his turn to take the stand. Shaky hands gripped the porcelain of the sink, haunted blues staring back at him. It was enough to make him sick… not even realizing his guardian felt the same way.

Without any kind of warning, the back of his head exploded and colorful bright spots danced in his vision. Unable to stand up from the pain, Dick collapsed to the ground, his face smacking off the tile floor. Upon impact, any semblance of consciousness left his body… which meant he never saw the two sets of footprints beside his face.

****

“All rise.”

The court was reconvened. After a half hour recess, Judge Williker had called everyone back to resume the session. The only case on the docket today was the Zucco case because it was the only high level one to take precedence.

Bruce retook his seat after the Judge arrived at his bench. However, after a few moments of pause, the robed justice looked over at the defense table, clearly confused.

“Excuse me, Bailiff… Where is the defendant?”

Said Bailiff, a short and stocky man off to the side of the door, also appeared confused. He cleared his throat and pointed somewhat shakily at the clearly empty chairs, unsure how he should answer.

“Umm… Well, he was…”

A silence fell over the crowd. Anthony Zucco had not returned to his chair, nor did his attorney. Both were right now MIA, which set off a chain reaction of urgent alarm.

Jim Gordon stood up, as did other law enforcement officers.

“Mr. Marcus, where is the defendant?”, Judge Williker questioned again, standing up at his seat, “The court has resumed session and Mr. Zucco is ordered to be in his seat. Find him!”

Mr. Marcus nodded emphatically, racing nervously to the door that led to the defendant’s quarters. A soft murmuring wafted over the audience as assumptions were beginning to fly around. Faces turned towards each other in an attempt to understand the situation. Only Bruce Wayne remained silent yet stoic. Although, he couldn’t help but shift a puzzled side eye to the empty seat behind him to which his ward still had not filled yet… and then back at the door he had hoped he would just walk through.

Where is he?, Bruce thought to himself, He can’t still be in the bathroom, can he?

Moments later, an out of breath Bailiff returned to the scene, his eyes wide on his pale face. He took a big gulp and approached the bench. Leaning upward, he whispered something to the Judge that caused the older man to gasp.

“Commissioner Gordon! Assemble your officers: Anthony Zucco and his attorney have disappeared. They have most assuredly left campus!”

This time, the silence that morphed into a hushed whisper exploded in loud outbursts around the courtroom. This time, everyone was on their feet asking questions, calling to alarm the disaster that was happening.

For the billionaire playboy, however, he had immediately felt a pit of dread in his stomach as he took one more look at the empty seat beside him… A sudden coldness seeped into his veins when he started to assume the unnatural coincidence that both Tony Zucco and Dick Grayson had not returned to the trial on time.

Bruce leapt up and bolted from the bench towards the exit, his eyes searching frantically around the hallway area for any signs or clues that could help him. Right. Left. There was no visual of his son, none at all. Instead of standing still any longer, he took off and ran towards the bathroom, yelling Dick’s name as he got closer; the restroom was the last place he said he was going. Hopefully the boy was telling the truth and he wasn’t taking a walk elsewhere…

Flinging open the men’s room door so hard it echoed as it banged against the wall, Bruce’s eyes once again scanned the area for any signs of Dick. The stalls were empty, there was no one in the room. Not one soul.

However, upon further inspection, something on the floor caught Bruce’s eyes. Furrowing his brow curiously, he bent down to get a closer look. A small puddle of deep red liquid stained the floor, a puddle no bigger than a quarter, but its thickness, coloration, and smell was obvious.

Blood.

Then his eyes traveled upward to the one window against the wall. It wasn’t a large window, but it was definitely large enough to fit a body through.

And it was wide open.

Bruce quickly put his detective intuition to work. Dick was in here… He had to have been. Not just that, but someone else was, too. With even the smallest amount of blood on the floor, it was a clear sign of struggle. Plus, the window left open, it was obvious someone or someones had left that way. No one came out the front, especially Zucco: someone would have said something by now.

Something happened to his boy. And with Zucco missing from the courtroom, Wayne assumed the absolute worst.

“Oh no…”

Sprinting from the bathroom once again, swearing under his breath, he finally made his way back to the chambers. The billionaire took a big frantic breath and screeched for the Commissioner.

“Jim, Dick is gone!”

Gordon spun around at the booming baritone. His eyes locked on Mr. Wayne running towards him, a look of panic across his brow. Bruce reached him and grabbed his shoulders, repeating himself.

“Dick is gone! There’s blood in the bathroom and the window is open!”

Gordon wasted no time.

“Alright, people, we have a serious situation on our hands, even more than before! Set up a perimeter lock around the building! No one in or out without my say so!”, Jim Gordon continued screeching at his fellow police officers, “Capture Anthony Zucco and find Dick Grayson safe and sound at all costs! This is an emergency, people! Get on it!”

Immediately the police force that was present in the room was already on high alert, but the missing civilian associated with the criminal mastermind sent them rushing into action the split second they received their new orders. But, Bruce barely paid them any mind. His own mind was reeling, his blue eyes wide as he stared at the floor.

Bruce couldn’t speak. He felt helpless… What if the last thing Dick Grayson ever remembers his guardian as was a nasty and unfeeling old wart? What if the last memory he has of his son was the verbal rampage he let loose just last night over a simple workout? What if–

No… He couldn’t get bogged down in the ‘what ifs’... Wayne shook his head and walked away from the Commissioner who had gone back to ordering his men around. As he spun and searched around the courtroom, hoping his detective mindset could kick in and find something to relieve the pressure on his heart and his gut that stemmed from extreme worry about his boy.

“No… This can’t be happening.” Wayne uttered a whispered pain as he grasped his temples. A sense of deja vu hit him just then as his mind reeled back to the sounds of the shot that rained against Dick’s chest on the pier from Zucco himself. If no one did anything this time, it could very well end the same way… and that made him more scared than anything.

Bruce wanted to dart after them, he sorely wanted to follow them, but as the police officers set into motion he felt a weight on his shoulders. Spinning around, he saw Gordon’s sympathetic yet urgent frown.

“We’ll get him back, Wayne, don’t worry. For now, I need you to get to safety.”

“But I can help!”, Bruce pleaded, trying to reposition himself as the frightened guardian, “Please! We need to rescue him! NOW!”

“And that’s exactly what we’re going to do. Mr. Wayne, you stay here. Don’t do anything dumb like try to play hero, I mean it! Let us handle it.” He exhaled heavily, placing a supportive hand on the frantic billionaire, “We’ll get him back, I promise.”

When Jim turned back to bark more orders, the billionaire stood there, his fists clenched at his sides. Darting his eyes back and forth between the cops that had begun to disperse to their tasks, Bruce made his decision.

Backing away slowly, shifting around to make sure no one was paying attention to him, Bruce slipped out the front doors to the hallway once more. Sneakily, he walked back towards the bathroom. When he approached, two officers walked out.

Hoping it was empty once more, Wayne quickly raced inside with one more secretive glance around the hallway. Inside the bathroom, after double checking it was indeed empty, the billionaire took the only necessary actions to get to his boy: he climbed out the window.

I’ll find you, Dick… Don’t worry…

****

BAM

WHAM

THUD

Dick Grayson’s eyes flew open at the next bump, awakening him from his headache-filled slumber that sent him into unconsciousness. Blinking away the pain from his pounding head once reality set back in, he gritted his teeth and moaned. After a few seconds, he lifted his head and searched around to figure out what was going on.

Between the rocking, swerving and shifting, the worn-down shoddy carpeting, and the exhaust fumes, not to mention the near dark surroundings, he knew instantly he was in a car’s trunk.

The boy moaned pathetically, frustratingly, and pushed himself up onto his hands, but grunted again when his back hit the trunk. He was trapped, with nowhere to go… and to make matters worse, he had no idea who had grabbed him or where he was going.

Where’s Bruce?

Swallowing the lump in his throat and taking a deep breath, all Dick could do now was steady his heart rate, focus on his surroundings to try to discover where he was going, and try not to have a panic attack at being kidnapped once again…

****

Bruce Wayne beelined it for his own vehicle right outside the courthouse. While he would have gained more ground in the investigation if he returned back to the Cave for more equipment, he knew Dick didn’t have much time; the worst case scenario was right within arms’ reach. Which meant that going home would waste valuable time.

So, he did the next best thing: access the mini computer he stored in his Jaguar.

The “Car Cave”, as Dick had dubbed it some years ago, held enough information to be a transportable bank of information in times like this when Bruce couldn’t be in full Batman-mode. Phone numbers, data entries, official test results, criminal aliases… even street cameras.

Bruce tapped on some buttons, all while trying to maintain a low profile (his eyes lifted every so often to catch any curious onlookers from the outside world), to bring up several screens at once that accessed Gotham’s street cameras the law enforcement installed years ago. Thankfully, Batman was a good enough hacker to gain access to all them.

Bingo

The civilian vigilante watched on in horror when he witnessed his boy being dragged out the back of the courthouse and shoved into the trunk of a blue sedan. Dick was clearly unconscious the way he flopped into the vehicle. When the lid was shut, four men took their spots in the vehicle… two of them being Tony Zucco and his lawyer. His skin crawled with the realization of proving himself right. He knew back in the courtroom he was right: this just proved it.

“No…”

Next, he saw the car speed past the courthouse… down the boulevard… hung a right two blocks down… veered left through a busy intersection… drove through the old financial district a.k.a. Slum Land… and peeled into a parking lot of a framed infrastructure that looked shockingly familiar to Bruce.

It was the same building Batman and Robin encountered Billy Marin’s thugs attempting to blow up part of the building during their extortion ring stake out.

It was also time stamped a half hour ago.

The dark-haired man slammed his fist on his dashboard.

“Damnit”

A queasiness grew in his stomach. He felt like he was going to throw up. Heavy breathing rose in his chest as his heart rate sped up, imagining the worst case scenario for what could happen to Dick. Zucco had somehow not only found a way to break himself out of court but convinced and hired lackeys to help him kidnap the key witness directly from court. Dick was now at the mercy of the same hands that had murdered his parents.

Shaking his head out of his darkened trance, he peeled out into traffic and raced along after the men. If there was anything he could do to get his son back safely, he would do it; which meant taking matters into his own hands and following after.

“Hang on, Dick… I’m coming”

****

A half hour earlier, when the vehicle finally rocked to a stop, Dick felt a short-lived relief that the bumps, potholes, twists, and turns were finally over… only for it to be replaced with dread and worry as to what was next. He heard doors opening and shutting all around him, indicating the others in the vehicle were exiting. Voices muffled around him.

“Let’s get this over with, huh?”

“Open the trunk.”

“No screw ups… I want that kid now.”

One of those voices belonged to Zucco.

Dick gasped quietly as his eyebrows flew up, his mind reeling with the new reality. He wasn’t just kidnapped by anyone: he was kidnapped by the man who killed his parents. Spots of anxiety danced in his field of vision and his breathing came in short and panicky, but rather than fall down the path of stressful hyperventilating, he shook away the feelings of dread and refocused his energies, preparing for the worst by doing the best he could. His heart raced and his stomach twisted once again, but he knew what he had to do. He knew he couldn’t let Zucco grab him. He had to emulate Robin the best he could under these circumstances…

After several seconds of impatiently waiting for the trunk to open, he had to make his move.

Three… Two… One…

Thankfully, for him, the hands sent to grab him never landed.

PUNCH!

“ARRGH!”

“Dude! What the hell!?”

Dick Grayson took it upon himself to punch the nearest kidnappers, launching himself into their faces the second the trunk opened. No longer captive, the Boy Wonder bolted in the opposite direction of the vehicle.

“You idiots! Why didn’t you tie him up?! GET HIM BACK HERE!!” Tony Zucco spat to the men who were rubbing their jaws, “NOW!”

Dick didn’t wait for them to follow and he didn’t look back. He just kept running.

Gunfire erupted around him, just in time for him to duck behind the nearest abandoned structure that had enough holes in it already. The grounds of the bare bones highrise didn’t exactly make the best ‘take cover’ situation, but he would have to think fast if he didn’t want his body to be full of holes like the boxes he sprinted past: he already had enough from Zucco just two months ago.

Bruce would kill me if I got shot again, he mused wryly.

Dick took cover behind one of the nearby storage sheds to catch his breath and straighten his mind. Here he was, taken from the courtroom against his will by the very man who he was to be testifying against… the very man who killed his parents… plus a couple other goons.

“Come on, Dick, get it together.”

Bright blue eyes scanned the area for anything he could use to his advantage. He knew this place. It was the same place he and Batman staked out a month and a half ago. There were crates, boxes, storage facilities, actual garbage, scrap metal pieces… and the remnants of the construction equipment that were strewn about the place… But hearing the voices shout orders to each other on how to best surround him, Dick knew he had to take matters into his own hands to ensure his safety. Fear dissipated and his natural courage took over, once again filling him with rage and vengeance… He narrowed his eyes and growled to himself, clenching his fists, preparing to do just that.

“Alright, Zucco… You want me? Come and get me.”

Tony Zucco gestured for his men around each of the sides of the building, pointing for them to spread out. Their guns were poised and ready, but they saved their bullets for the target. Sneaking around, Zucco and the others kept their eyes peeled and their teeth bared.

“Come out, come out, wherever you are!”, he teased nastily.

Suddenly, one of the men saw a blur race in front of him, sprinting past so fast he nearly fell over. The figure took a few more steps to the right and then launched himself high into the air with a twist, grabbing onto the upper beam and landing on the upper level with ease.

“He’s up there!”, the low-life growled.

“How the heck did he do that?!”, another was aghast at the nimbleness of the boy.

Zucco growled and joined them, also frustrated with how the boy was now propelling himself higher and higher up the infrastructure.

“He’s a goddamn circus freak, you morons, that’s how! GET HIM!”

The three men stared back and forth, gawking at each other at their boss’s orders. One scratched his head and pointed up, confused.

“But… I’m afraid of heights.”

BANG

The two others witnessed their coworker fall to the ground, the small hole in his head bleeding out profusely… his chest stopped moving. Blinking rapidly against the shock, they studied each other… and judged the moment…

Tony Zucco glared viciously at the other two standing men, daring them to do anything against him. Lucky for them, they took the hint. Nodding obediently, they followed orders and turned, taking to the utility lift that rose higher and higher in search of the boy. Zucco watched them rise as he remained on the ground: his minions were now on their way to ‘greet’ the circus brat.

Dick stopped about five stories up, crouching low behind a beam. Daring one look down, he saw the two men on the elevator. He had heard the shot, knowing something happened. With one look at the downed fourth man with a puddle of dark red around his head, he knew he was now one less villain, but that still didn’t make him feel any better. Zucco was still moving, and the ultimate goal was to take care of him.

Taking another deep breath, the former acrobat closed his eyes and thought through his next moves. Then, studying his surroundings, the beams, the posts, the wires, the smallish platforms for the unfinished decking and flooring, he knew he had to devise a plan… and fast.

"Come on, fellas... Let's dance."

The first man, his slicked back oily mop and jagged teeth that reeked so bad he could clear out a small room, stepped off the lift first. They didn’t know where the brat was, but they took a guess. He waved the other on higher ground, taking his watch on the third level. He glanced around the darkening surroundings as the sun set lower in the distance, keeping his beady eyes peeled for any signs of the prey.

The second man, a larger bulging and grotesque beast of a human, stepped off on the sixth floor, about a third of the way up the highrise. His belly hung over the edge of the small beam, making him gulp nervously that with one small step in the wrong direction would flatten him into a monster-size pancake below. But he surveyed the unfinished flooring and went about his job, his gun held high.

“See anything, Mac?”, shouted the crook from below three stories.

Mac shook his head, knowing the other couldn’t see, “Nah… You got anything, Bill?”

Bill was just as blind as he cautiously yet obediently searched the area. His eyes darted left and right, back and forth, hoping that he could see–

“GAAAHH!!”

Without warning, Bill’s world turned upside down. A rope latched onto his ankle somehow and propelled him head over heels and up another story. Screaming from the momentum swing, he lost control of his gun and dropped it just before his body screeched to a stop against the beam. Dangling from his one leg, Bill blurted out obscenities and curses of bewilderment. But twist as he might, he couldn’t free himself from the ankle constraints that held him securely like a bat.

Mac heard the shouting from his coworker and tried to keep his own cool. Gulping heavily, he yelled out for his friend.

“Bill? Bill, what’s going on?”

Mac was three – now, two stories– above Bill, and through the darkening sky and echoing empty space of the massive Gotham lot he had a hard time pinpointing which direction the fearful shouting was coming from, meaning he couldn’t make his way to Bill if he wanted to.

Sure, he wanted to, but he was also terrified… But why? This was just a kid! He was a boy! How is this boy causing so many problems, Mac thought to himself as he trained his gun higher, clicking off the safety. Just as he rounded another corner of a support beam, the criminal’s world went dark.

“HEY! What the–”

Mac stumbled and fumbled to get the bag off his head, but it wasn’t in enough time to keep himself from falling. Wailing at the top of his lungs at the drop, he thudded heavily against the deck work below one story, sinking into an unconsciousness the second he hit the wooden planks of the support scaffolding. He was out…

Meanwhile, Tony Zucco, still on the dirt, could only listen on with growing frustration and absolute anger. He started this night with three men… After offing one himself, he was becoming royally irate with how easily the other two were dropping.

“Son of a bitch.” Zucco muttered to himself, smacking his forehead. He grunted and ran over to the lift, pressing the button for its return. When it finally dropped to the ground floor, he loaded himself onto it and rose up higher, glancing around with bared teeth and a nasty disposition, “Come on out, kid! You can’t hide from me forever!”

When he received no answer, the extortionist cackled devilishly to himself, taunting the air.

“Ya know, I gotta admit… I actually forgot about ya. All those years later and you were gone from my mind. Like a crappy past well forgotten, ya know? I take care of the circus, kill a couple of nobody gypsy folks, and move on out of town. Easy peasy.”

Zucco stepped off at floor four, cautiously scanning around. If one listened closely, one could hear the rough grinding of teeth up ahead.

“Nine years later… Nine friggin’ years later I’m not back in town five minutes and I got the Bat on my tail… Sure,” he cackled, “I thought it was just some big joke. Like I had a bad luck thing over my head. Almost like Gotham was cursed.”

He clicked the safety off on his weapon, listening intently for any other noises.

“But you know what? Wasn’t just the Bat, either… It was the brat. That stupid, goddamn, punk jackass kid of his. Here I am, minding my own business, ‘bout to take out the Dark Knight himself for good, and he comes onto the scene. Roarin’ his bike, draggin’ me down the pier… I tell ya, it was like something straight out of a nightmare! For no good reason! After all, I thought, what the hell did I do to them?!”

Then Zucco’s cheeks lifted in a nasty smirk, his eyes still scanning the area as he skulked around in the darkness. His voice lowered… a cool, deliberately secretive tone to his tenor.

“And then, Robin said something to me on that pier that made me question everything.” He spat the name with such hatred, “Ya wanna know what he said? Do ya? You wanna know what that punk said to me?”

Silence loomed over as Zucco took more steps around, his weight creaking on the wooden planks before tapping onto the metal platforms surrounding them. While he monologued he was still keeping an eye around him, waiting for any movement of the kid who knew for sure was still around.

“I’ve waited a long time.”

Up ahead, another figure that had been slowly maneuvering its way around above the criminal froze in its spot…

“That brat said those words to me… ‘I’ve waited a long time’.” Tony Zucco mused cleverly like he had some big secret, “Now why on Earth would that masked freak say that to me? Why would he have any business with old Tony Zucco, huh? Cuz see, last time I was in Gotham he wasn’t even around the Bat. The red and green dope didn’t even exist.” Then he grinned wider, a very telling ominous grin, “And then it hit me… Like a ton of bricks. Once I figured it out it made total sense… Robin saying those words to me could only mean one thing.”

Up above, the frozen figure’s heart rate pounded into outer space… Blue eyes widened fearfully. It clicked harshly what the murderer was getting at as a cold chill ran through his veins at his tumultuous screw up.

Zucco’s evil grin spread wider, his disgusting teeth bared and shined in the streetlights that illuminated the construction zone. Speaking very clearly, deliberately enunciating every word, he drove his point home.

“You are Robin.”

No more secrets… Zucco knew. Or at least, he thought he knew. Thing was, he was absolutely accurate. When he didn’t hear a sound from the peanut gallery around him, he started to chortle and cackle.

“Think about it: why would Batman’s partner, who wasn’t around nine years ago, say that to me? Huh? Waiting a long time? For what? Why?! I’ll tell ya why… Cuz he’s you! You were around last time! You were there at the circus! You’re the punk acrobat, the little material witness, the key to putting me away for good! It was YOU! But now look at ya: all grown up, huh!? All grown up and ridin’ around with that stupid SOB Bats, trackin’ me down, huntin’ me down, and lookin’ to lock me up. Well guess what, bucko, I got news for you: you ain’t makin’ it out of here alive. Not if I can help it… I took care of your low-life gypsy folks, now I’m gonna take care of you… So how’z about you come on out and we can deal with this like men, huh? You come on out, and we handle this. To give you credit,” Zucco sneered, “I’m sure you’d last a lot longer than your mommy and daddy did.”

SMACK

The criminal reared forward from the whack over his head that came from behind. Stumbling ahead flat, Zucco braced himself on his elbows before grunting and looking up just in time for a twisting blur to somersault overhead. The figure landed in a tri-stance and lifted his head, a daggering glare staring him down, foam practically frothing at his mouth as he stood to his full height.

“Don’t you DARE talk about my parents like that!”

Tony Zucco threw his head back and cackled when he finally rose to his feet, “Why? Too soon?”

Dick screamed and raced forward, taking his strides in a large gait that allowed him to reach the predator in record time. Zucco barely had enough time to get his weapon up and get a shot off before he felt another punch to his face. Thankfully, the bullet ricocheted off a nearby beam, clanking it solidly, but the deck to his cheek sent him backwards again.

The former acrobat punched and kicked again… and again…

“You had no right to do what you did to them!” Dick painfully echoed out into the night, his hair and suit mussed from the fight, “You murdered them for no reason!!”

Zucco flew back again onto the flooring, his face smacking against the wood. He grunted and rolled over, propping himself up. Screaming in anger, he began firing off more shots.

Dick ducked and dove around every one. He flipped and soared over the criminal and landed behind another beam for some cover. Picking up a loose pipe, he returned to the fight just as Zucco swore that his bullets had run out.

“You ruined my life!! I was a kid! They did NOTHING to you! Haly did NOTHING to you! You selfish, evil, sorry excuse for a human!”

Each time he wound up and slugged the criminal with the pipe, he felt his heart aching and breaking more and more, as if years of torment and torture from the murderer still running loose around teased his peace. And each crunch of metal hitting bone sent him into furious fits of rage even more. The murderer had been pushed around so far where he was nearly dangling off the center lift in the middle of the infrastructure, holding him several stories up by just a small rope that was meant as a makeshift chain… mostly due to budget cuts.

“You!  Killed ! My!  Parents !”

Grayson saw red. Nothing mattered more in that moment than setting right what was wronged, and that was taking care of this murderer once and for all. Sweat beading down his forehead, his breaths coming in deep spikes of adrenaline that drove his madness… he raised the pipe over his head for the final blow.

And stopped.

Dick looked down at the half beaten man cowering in pain, blood seeping from several cuts over his body from the damage. There was certainly a broken bone here and there, evidenced by his uneven breathing… also most likely a concussion. But what caught the acrobat off guard was how easy it would be to completely take him out. To destroy him. To wipe Anthony Zucco off the face of the Earth once and for all.

It scared him.

Dick blinked out of his enraged stupor and lowered the pipe, gulping cold air greedily to steady his nerves and the pumping blood in his ears. His heart raced and his chest throbbed from over exertion and stress. Limbs shook and trembled as he backed away from the bleeding criminal, refocusing his energies once again on doing the right thing. And the right thing at the moment was not going too far. He couldn’t go too far. He almost did… It almost happened. But he stopped himself just in the nick of time.

Tony Zucco was stopped… He was still alive, but stopped. He was going to go to jail. For good…

The last of the Flying Graysons would have peace.

Lowering his head, Dick closed his eyes and took deep steady breaths, reveling in the quiet victory.

Until he heard a click.

The black-haired boy raised his blues and saw in horror that Zucco had gathered enough strength to pull out another gun from his pocket. With a sneering smirk directed at him, Dick was transported back to eight weeks ago on the pier when he didn’t have enough time to even register what was happening, let alone move to prevent it. A silent fog filled his ears at the very real danger. He was going to be shot.

Until he realized he wasn’t just some helpless little boy anymore. He was a grown adult who had the power to stand up to Tony Zucco. He wasn’t the small kid trapped in the circus who thought no one would believe him.

He was Robin.

Dick reacted effortlessly in one swift motion, chucking the pipe at the murderer’s hand like a batarang.

CLANK

BANG

The gun went off, but it was redirected upwards with enough force that the bullet tore through the makeshift rope chain. When the rope snapped, a loud roaring shook the place, sending the wooden lift rumbling and shaking.

And down.

Tony Zucco screamed at the weightless feeling of falling four stories down with the destroyed equipment. His broken voice echoed around the shifting metal and breaking wood for what seemed like an eternity to Dick’s ears… but it finally settled and culminated in a massive booming bang at the bottom of the beams and pillars as it meshed and mixed with a utility trailer and porta-potty, sending a large plume of dust and smoke into the air.

Silence fell.

Dick watched in horror as the dust settled, revealing the pure destruction of the crash site below. His eyes were wide, unable to believe that four stories down was somewhere the body of Tony Zucco. Four stories. Slightly higher from how far Mr. and Mrs. Grayson had fallen.

Finally syncing his brain with his muscles, the former acrobat swung and twisted down the beams, softly touching carefully on the dirt despite the insane trembling all over his body at the anxiety tackling his insides. However, when he crept closer once on the ground, he realized instantly that there was nothing the criminal could have done to survive that fall. There was no way he could have moved or landed that would prevent it from being fatal.

Tony Zucco was dead.

Dick slumped to his knees, his mouth gaped open at the sight of the mangled wreckage. He tried hard to reason through everything, but all he could think of was that it was his fault… Cinching his eyes tight, his head dropped forward in the best attempt to stop his stomach from upending itself. The hot rage that had filled his body seeped away and was replaced with the frigid December air, sending a cold depressing chill through his veins. He couldn’t stop shivering if he wanted to, even though his nervous system was running haywire with enough electricity to power all of Gotham. He was fried and hyper alert, making for a very uncomfortable silence.

The former acrobat wasn’t aware how much time had passed before a roar of an engine entered his ears. It was soft yet angry, like a sports car, but it wasn’t enough for him to pay any attention to it other than that.

Bruce Wayne eventually pulled up to the construction site, the tires of his Jaguar squealing when he slammed on the brakes. Immediately rushing out of the vehicle, he frantically searched around for any signs of his ward, shouting his name.

Coming closer into the area, he stopped just short of calling out for Dick’s name again when he saw the broken building with jagged metal and wood sticking out everywhere. There was an ominous stillness in the air, like an incredible disaster just occurred and the night was drowned in its aftermath…

Then, his heart caught in his throat when he noticed his ward kneeling next to the rubble. While he wasn’t sure what had happened, the fact that he was upright and not covered in blood was enough to send his heart rising into his throat with a whispered ‘Thank God’. Running forward, praying for the best but preparing for the worst, Bruce approached Dick, slowing down as he neared.

“Dick! Are you okay?"

Grayson did not answer.

Bruce took one more concerned glance to his boy before raising his eyes to meet the wreckage. It was a mangled mess, for sure. After looking up and around for any other signs of… anything…, the detective settled his blues back on Dick who had still not moved. Pursing his lips, he approached closer, timidly yet urgently. Calling out once again, this time even softer as his voice nearly cracked.

“Dick... Where’s Zucco?”

After a few moments of uncertainty in his reply, Dick painfully twisted his head, slowly rotating his now visible bloodshot blues up to his guardian. Bruce could see in the tight jaw and creased brow the emotions he was holding in. A wetness formed in his eyes as his lip and entire body trembled, his mouth gaping like he was trying to speak… his voice quiet and aching.

“I… I… It just… I-I didn’t want him to… I w-wasn’t trying to… H-he…”

Bruce listened to the heartache and wobbling tone that was both traumatized and freezing before taking one more look back to the destroyed shed…

And then he understood.

Closing his own eyes, putting two and two together, he gathered enough of what had happened. Hanging his head, he didn’t respond back. He didn’t need to... Zucco was dead, that much he had reasoned.

When he lifted his now solemn eyes back to his son, Dick had since refocused back on the destruction and what was left of the murderer buried somewhere in the rubble. Bruce, no longer urgently manic, walked calmly over to the boy and knelt down in front of him, blocking the view of the disaster. He observed the boy in question, studying him over to check for any injuries he may have missed. There was a knot on his forehead above his brow that had since stopped bleeding; most likely, Bruce deduced, sustained from hitting the floor in the bathroom. A split lip and a bruise on his cheek were the only other visible signs of a fight. He was also cold… freezing cold. If his skin and lips weren’t pale, tinting on the blue side, the violent shivers would be enough to give it away. Bruce knew how long he would have been out here based on the cameras he saw, and with the Gotham winds blowing in fairly fiercely, he knew Dick needed to get warmed immediately before he suffered hypothermia.

Despite the obvious signs of trauma, he was beyond eternally grateful for the lack of bullet holes…

Bruce leaned in closer; the billionaire tried to get Dick’s attention by speaking in soft empathetic tones.

“Dick, look at me.”

He sniffled quietly, a small hitch in his shoulders indicating to Bruce that he was on the verge of losing it. Dick’s mouth gaped pathetically, his eyes trying to look through to Zucco’s buried body as if he could still see it. Slowly, his watery blues turned up to his seeking guardian as he quietly broke.

“I d-didn’t w-want him to d-die.”

Bruce sighed nasally, understanding completely what Dick was going through. He nodded, agreeing, and placed both hands on his shaking shoulders. He knew the torment the boy was going through, but he didn’t need to say anything. When Grayson leaned forward into his warm embrace, Bruce shut his eyes and held him tightly as he quietly sniffled and shook. While he didn’t break down completely, he melted into the hug like any truly emotionally exhausted person would: his hands were still at his sides, but his head rested on his father-figure’s shoulders, allowing the strong biceps to keep him safe and away from the cold.

They stayed like that even when the parade of sirens approached in the distance.

****

One week.

It had been one week since the tragedy at the construction site on the west side of Gotham that took Anthony Zucco’s life. The two men who were still trussed up from the victim’s makeshift traps were whisked off to jail and the other two, both Zucco and his first henchman to lose his life, were subjected to the morgue. No family came forward, not surprisingly, to claim the lone henchman, but Arnold Stromwell had been present to fill out paperwork on behalf of his nephew.

The ambulance ride from the construction site was both calm and tense as Bruce and Dick sat in the back in silence, stewing over the events of the entire day. While Dick had mumbled that he was fine, the Commissioner ensured he was going to be checked out anyway. Even Bruce didn’t get away so easily without some kind of sarcastic interrogation.

“Wayne, how the hell did you get out of the building without us knowing? We had every exit blocked!”

The billionaire playboy by day and world’s greatest detective by night shrugged smugly, pointing out the obvious.

“I just slipped out the bathroom window, Commissioner. Easy as that.”

It wasn’t even a lie… something Bruce was proud he didn’t have to do.

One week… One week had passed since everything went down.

Dick Grayson found himself in the very familiar situation he had been in weeks before when his guardian approached him for the news of the trial. Seated in front of a roaring fire in the middle of the night, the college student studied the flames more than he had that night. His eyes scanned over the dancing pitches in red and orange with the occasional spark of blue. He watched as they moved effortlessly over the logs, the organic crackling hitting his ears in the most relaxing and tranquil manner, as if they were luring him into a sense of peace.

“Can I join you?”

The college boy lifted his head at the intrusion, smiling warmly when his guardian approached.

“Sure.”

Bruce Wayne sat on the couch beside him, allowing the glowing waves in front of him to warm his soul. Both he and Dick stared at the fire for quite some time before either spoke up. It was comfortable, to be so quiet for so long, but the tension in the air crept back in to remind them of the recent events.

“Are you okay?”

Dick sighed heavily, not taking his eyes off the fire.

“Mm hmm.”

Bruce watched as the boy wrestled with his emotions, a faraway gaze in his eyes as he studied the fire. It was obvious that Dick wanted to say more, even though he mumbled nothing. He let a few more moments of silence pass before he went to speak up again, but he didn’t get the chance to.

“He found out I was Robin, Bruce”

Bold blues settled on the stoic young man, seeking out more clarification. He didn’t move, neither did. It was just a simple confession yet so loaded at the same time; one quiet sentence that spoke volumes. Dick went on, every word uttered made his face redder and his blood pressure spike.

“He found out. He remembered what I said to him on the pier when I was Robin. He remembered me from the circus... H-he figured it all out because I messed up.” Dick murmured achingly, his gaze still on the fire, “Then he said things to me that… He… I-I just lost it..."

Bruce watched on, observing the subtle twitching of Dick’s fingers, the slight furrowing of his brow as he thought back to that moment, even the deepening rise of his chest that showed his breathing was heightening. He was feeling his emotions stronger as he mentally recalled every punch, kick, and swack with that metal pipe he found, becoming more visibly upset even if only noticeable by the Batman.  Although, Bruce did not say anything to acknowledge how frightening it was that Zucco discovered Dick was Robin. He simply took it all in and listened.

“But…” Dick paused, frowning harder, “I… I didn’t want to be like him. I couldn’t be like him. And then in the middle of it all I remembered what you said, about not letting my emotions get the best of me. I heard your voice in my head. And it made me stop… He found out I was Robin because I did let my emotions get the best of me, and I knew I couldn't let anything like that happen again.” He let out a deep, rough exhale, “When I looked down at him, he looked so pathetic. So scared. So… beat up”, the boy gulped and narrowed his haunted eyes directly at the fire, “But even though I stopped, I still killed him in the end… It’s all my fault, Bruce… It’s my fault he’s dead…”

Bruce’s eyes never left his son’s face. Dick closed his eyes and shut himself off. The young man trembled slightly, his lip quivering gently through the emotions that ravaged his insides. He watched as his boy sniffled once, twice, but kept a tight lip. He was hurting more than Bruce realized… blamed himself for way more than he did. He knew it couldn’t end this way.

“Dick, you didn’t kill him.”

The former acrobat shook his head and began to open his mouth to protest, but Bruce cut him off.

“No, you didn’t. Listen to me. I don’t know what he said to you while you were with him, but I know him well enough to know he was doing everything in his power to get under your skin in the worst way. Saying anything he could to antagonize you. And I have no doubt in my mind that he meant every word. Tony Zucco was a despicable, evil human being who did unthinkable and unforgivable acts to good people who didn’t deserve it. He’s caused you so much pain and heartache, more than anyone should ever have to live through. He took your world from you, destroyed your sense of peace and family, ended everything for you in the blink of an eye… I know what that can do to a person…”

Dick stared at the fire unblinking as his guardian spoke from the heart.

“You were put in an impossible situation. You were taken by the very man who murdered your parents with every intention of killing you… and you came out on top. He might have discovered your secret identity, yes, but that's something we can talk about another time. Plus, I’d also like to think I know you well enough to know that you wouldn’t directly kill him on purpose no matter how much you thought you wanted to. Deep in your heart, no matter how angry you felt, you really didn’t want to, which is why you didn’t.

“Yes, he died.” Bruce admitted, seeing the boy sit up to protest his actions, “But you should give yourself credit for not allowing your hands to make that call. You acted heroically. Responsibly. Things happened. Accidents happened. You did not murder Anthony Zucco, Dick. Take that into consideration.”

Dick listened as his father-figure praise him coolly, calmly. Even though he heard the words, he didn’t feel them in his heart. Shoulders slumped as his eyes closed again. He hung and shook his head, his meek and solemn voice almost breaking.

“Bruce, I’m no hero…”

“In my eyes you are.”

His blue eyes rotated from his lap to his guardian and saw only a warm smile creep up his cheeks. It wasn’t a big smile, but for Batman it was big enough. He had never heard him say those words, either. It was something new. Dick’s lips parted curiously, but before he could speak, he was cut off. Bruce leaned forward and steepled his fingers in his lap, choosing his words carefully.

“Dick… I haven’t told you how many times I came close to ending someone’s life…”, he quietly acknowledged, a hollow echo of his past whispered, “How many times in my early years as Batman that I let my anger get the best of me. Each time I would catch a criminal, my mind went to the low life that ended my parents’ lives and I would envision his face in front of me. At first, it was a nameless faceless figure, but as I learned his identity I would see him everywhere. Each time I had some small bit thief in my grip, I would imagine taking him out… killing him,” He lifted his now dark pained eyes to meet his son’s seeking gaze, “I know what it feels like to hurt so badly you want nothing more than to release your anger on anything that you think would give you peace. But the thing is, killing anyone doesn’t do that. It just makes your appetite for vengeance grow. It’s not justice… It's revenge. And I swore an oath to never go down that path: the same oath you promised when I trained you as my partner. Since then, you’ve carried that oath honorably, without hesitation. You’ve kept me in check more times than I can count. This time, you kept yourself in check like a responsible, trustworthy adult in your own right.” Bruce’s chest swelled with pride as he held Dick’s eyes, “So yes, in my eyes you are a hero. In my eyes, Dick, I couldn’t be prouder of the man you’re growing into than I am right now.”

The more Bruce talked, the more the young man’s heart filled. Each word of praise lifted his spirits to the point where he was sitting completely upright and full at attention, his eyes never leaving his father-figure’s face. When he finished, Dick gulped heavily and pursed his lips, a stinging of love behind his eyes. Slowly, he nodded, silently thanking the older man when his words failed to come out.

Bruce smiled and nodded back, then returned his gaze to the fires. After a few seconds Dick did the same. Two men, a father and a son, stared at the warm glow of the embers, the dancing flickering in the massive fireplace. It was comfortable, serene, and tranquil. Wearied heroes succumbed to the very few instances of relaxation in these troubled times.

“Merry Christmas, Bruce.”

“Merry Christmas, Dick.”

Chapter Text

******

“Gordon’s report puts the Scarecrow at the Zoo. Supposedly he’s working with the Joker tonight.”

“The Scarecrow and Joker? Teaming up? What the heck for?”

“I have no idea. But whatever it is, we can be positive it’s not because they’re setting up for a birthday party.”

“Huh…  Well, look at you telling jokes. I think I might be rubbing off on you.”

Batman and Robin had just left police headquarters, hearing from Commissioner Gordon himself that the news of the night was the latest major villain team up. This time, it was between the King of Fear and the Clown Prince of Crime. The two criminals in their own right were dangerous enough, but combined could be a severe force to be reckoned with.

And their latest destination? The Zoo.

Why? It was anybody’s guess.

The Batmobile roared up to the entrance of the Gotham Zoo. Both heroes leapt out of the vehicle, scanning the area for any signs of the crazed maniacs. Batman turned to Robin and gruffly ran through the details.

“I’ll take the Joker. You try to find Scarecrow. If you see the Joker, do not engage. Radio to me and wait for backup. As far as I’m concerned, he’s more of a threat than the Scarecrow. That being said, take caution with him, too.”

“Same with you.” Robin directed his pointed worried glare to his partner, “Radio to me if you find the Joker. I’ll be there in a heartbeat.”

Batman nodded and instructed him to “Stick to the shadows. Be careful.”

Robin saluted and took off in the opposite direction. They both would cover more ground if they split up, they knew that, but they also were very aware of the dangers of doing just that. Both criminals had experimented with toxins and venom several times over -- infecting each of the heroes at one point in time or another-- and weren’t to be trifled with. They’ve teamed up for whatever reason and that was enough to set the Caped Crusader and his partner on edge.

It took a while as each hero stalked and skulked around the grounds, bypassing animal cages and vendor booths, listening to the nocturnal animals screech and howl and hoot in their confines.

Robin’s narrowed slits kept a watchful vigil each time he rounded a corner, even whispering back to his partner who had radioed over letting him know he hadn’t spotted the green-haired murderer yet while asking if he had seen the bundle of straw.

“Nothing yet. He’s just–”

But he paused… Up ahead was a light. It shined dimly from a nearby cave of some sorts. Like a tunnel.

The tunnel that led to the aquarium.

“Robin?” came Batman’s concern when his partner stopped mid-sentence.

“There’s a light on at the aquarium. I’m gonna check it out.”

“Stay low. Keep me informed.”

The Boy Wonder snuck over to the entrance, careful to avoid being spotted by anybody that would want to kill him. Further into the tunnel, he arrived at the center of the aquarium. Tanks full of fish, squid, eels, sharks, and other marine creatures were laid out wall to wall. Some large, some small. But no signs of the–

“Ahhhh, welcome, my miniscule little mouse. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Robin scoffed at the disembodied voice in the echoing spaces of the glass tanks.

“Pleasure, huh? You actually find joy in hurting people?”

“Come now, young chap. You of all people already know the answer to that…. YES!”

Out of nowhere, four large brutes raced forward at the red and green hero. Crowbars and pipes and guns raised.

Unlucky for them, Robin was ready.

The first one with the pipe went down easily with a back flip kick to his jaw, forcing him to drop the metallic weapon. Picking it up, Robin chucked it at the man with the gun, silencing him. However, three shots did make their way out of the barrel and into nearby tanks, shattering the glass and spilling waterfalls out onto the floor. Thankfully, with the last two distracted by the flood, Robin clacked their heads together and disarmed them from their own crowbars.

All four were down.

“Pop Quiz, Spooky... Why are you at the Zoo?” Robin sneered into the air, smirking with a smug teasing nature, “The corn field not good enough for you?”

“Trying to get under my skin, eh? No matter. I’ll let that little attempt at an insult slide.”

“I wasn’t trying to insult you. I was being serious.”

“Hmmm… Indeed… Clever.”

Robin readied himself for more of a battle, his eyes darting around trying to find the source of the voice.

“If you must know, animals are the perfect test subject. We use them for everything: medicines, cosmetics, food, and other products we use on a daily basis. Soooo… I figured why not use them to test my toxins? My new and improved toxins, I should say.”

“Wait a sec… You mean to tell me you actually grew a heart and want to test it before poisoning people? You're slipping, man.”

“Don't you ever just shut up?!”

The Boy Wonder snickered, loving it when he could irritate the villains. But he still searched around, closing in on the walls for some kind of entrance that could lead him to the criminal.

“Anyway… I must admit, the use of aquatic creatures does have its limitations. Confined to their four glass walls and life in the water isn’t exactly a fruitful use of my genius… Avians , on the other hand, prove to be more uplifting , wouldn’t you say?"

"Hey now, that's pretty on brand for you. I mean, they do call you the Scarecrow for a reason, right?"

"Too right you are, my feathered friend, too right you are. Although, since sadly none are around, I guess I shall settle for a pathetic little robin instead!"

Before Robin could comment on his quick comeback and choice in words relating to his own namesake, the room had begun to fill with a deep green gas of some sort, covering every nook and cranny of the room. The boy gasped, attempting to spit out the vapors from his nose or even cover them up with his cape, but it was no use.

“Thank you, Boy Wonder, for involuntarily offering to be my first test subject! I must take notes!”

He coughed and stumbled back away from the fumes, but there was no way to tell where the exit was.

WHAM

The Boy Wonder lurched forward with a grunt as he fell flat on his face. Groaning and rolling over, he reacted with just enough speed to lift his legs and kick the Scarecrow in the chest, sending him on his back. 

Robin clumsily stood up, shaking his head from the immediate effects of the gas that confused his orientation, and finished off the criminal…

Minutes later, Robin exited the Aquarium, dragging Scarecrow behind him. Trudging through the rest of the enclosures, he finally made his way out and over towards the squad cars that had arrived on scene. Batman had radioed over to let him know he called it in to Gordon that the two villains were discovered and apprehended at the Zoo. Just as the Boy Wonder walked over to the flashing reds and blues, he saw the Joker already being loaded into a nearby Arkham transport van, also handcuffed. 

Batman watched his partner deliver the straw man to two police officers and waited for him to come to his side. He didn’t appear too over-the-top like he usually did– more subdued, in fact–, but he didn’t make any comment on it. Maybe he was just tired…

“The Zoo of all places… Why?”

“They were using their knowledge of chemicals to create a super-strain of their toxins, most likely combining both their recipes to strengthen its potency.” Batman informed Gordon. “The Joker was set to test his batch on Primates until I intervened.”

“Scarecrow was using fish.” Robin piped up quietly, letting them know what he heard without going into too much detail... especially about the gas being used on birds as a nod to him.

Gordon sighed and shook his head, “What will they think of next… Don’t answer that; I don’t want to know.”

While Batman gave the Commissioner more of a rundown on what he suspected the toxins to be made of or used for, Robin began to feel lightheaded. Not necessarily ‘began’ per say – he had been feeling not right in the head ever since that gas expelled in the room –, but even more so than before. He blinked rapidly against the glittering spots that had started to appear in his vision. Even the voices around him were somewhat muffled. It was as if he couldn’t hear the people near to him.

Someone noticed…

Gordon looked past Batman’s shoulder when he saw the young man seemingly spaced out.

“Robin? Are you alright?”

The inquiry nabbed Batman’s attention as he quickly spun and saw what Gordon saw. However, Robin, not wanting to be on everyone’s radar, lifted his head and plastered on a smile, albeit tight and seemingly forced. He nodded, not saying a word.

Jim Gordon took that as an okay. He nodded, thanked the duo, and took his leave to take care of the catches of the night. However, Batman was still not convinced. He took a few steps closer to his ward and voiced his quiet concerns.

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

Robin gulped again and nodded, despite his head beginning to pound, “Yeah… I’m fine…”

Even though he was still wary, Batman didn’t want to push. Both he and Robin turned and walked towards the Batmobile with the older hero keeping half an eye on his seemingly closed off and out of character partner who was not his usual rambunctious self.

As they neared the vehicle, Robin stumbled over his feet and had to catch himself against the Batmobile’s hood before he fell.

“Robin?”

The young boy lifted his droopy eyes and forced himself to focus on his partner’s question amidst his chest tightening and his vision fuzzing in front of him. Dizziness took over and he blinked away the uncomfortable strain of staying alert.

“I’m… I-I’m fine… I just…”

He couldn’t finish his words before he fell forward against the passenger side of the Batmobile. Batman gasped and raced to his side, calling his name.  When he knelt down next to him, a hand on his shoulder, he saw Robin was panting and clammy, blinking furiously, shaking his head to focus.

“Come on, let’s get into the car.” Batman helped get him into the car gently, ensuring he was buckled up. He knew his partner was not well, even though he claimed he was. “We’ll be home soon.”

When they arrived back in the cave, Batman immediately jumped out of the driver seat and quickly came around to the passenger side. Leaning over, he helped Robin’s clumsy and shaking form out as cautiously yet urgently as he could. He noticed the boy was even more out of it: sweating and breathing heavily, ready to pass out. Robin insisted nothing was wrong as he took off his mask.

“I-I’m… I-I’m okay..”

Batman argued back calmly as he took the younger man’s elbow and guided him away, “No one that’s okay just collapses like that. Come on, let’s get you to the med bay. With the Scarecrow we can’t take any chances.”

As he helped Dick over to the bed a distance away, he lit up again when the boy stumbled, half falling to his knees. Bruce caught him in time before he completely fell. Slinging an arm over his shoulder he continued to take him to the bed just as Alfred walked over and saw the sight.

“My dear word, what happened? Master Dick, are you alright?”

Batman grumbled while Dick did not answer other than heavier pants. “Scarecrow most likely doused him with some of the toxin he was working on at the Zoo.” Then he spoke back to Robin as he helped him onto the medical bed, obviously concerned, “Easy, Dick… Just lay down. I’ll run some tests.”

When Dick was settled back on the pillow, his chest heaving and his skin pale and sweaty, Batman walked back over to the computer, addressing his butler.

“It was the Joker and Scarecrow tonight. We don’t know the extent of what they were up to or how dangerous this chemical is. I’ll need a sample of Dick’s blood to figure it out and to develop an antidote in case it turns out worse than we think. Alfred, can you–”  

However, just as he started to ask Alfred for medical equipment, an interruption came from where he left his ward.

CRASH

Both sets of eyes spun and saw Dick panicking tremendously. His eyes were wide with terror, his mouth gaping around the expansive cave. He had apparently also knocked over a nearby tray as he shot up in bed, his stiff posture obviously scared stiff.

Batman was even more worried now as he ran back over, but still tried to remain calm. 

“It’s okay, Dick, just relax. You’re just–”

“ AAHHHHH !! NOOO! STAY AWAY!”

While the Caped Crusader came nearer, the boy officially noticed him for the first time… and completely freaked out. Dick’s brows shot up to the ceiling as he lit up with fright, trying to scurry away as much as possible. His hands flew up to prevent the older man from approaching any closer and ended up falling backwards off the bed with a loud thud and crash of the objects around him.

“ Dick !”

“Master Dick!”

Both Bruce and Alfred hurried to his aid, but Dick was already trying to scramble away even further. The young boy scooted further away on the ground and backed into a nearby wall, screaming.

“Don’t hurt me! Please ! G-get away from me! Wh-what are you?! DON’T HURT ME!!”

Dick was insanely afraid, Bruce noted, as the fearful boy cowered, sweat beading down his pale yet flushed face, his terrorized blue as wide as the moon. His breath came in short yet heaving pants, like he was nearly hyperventilating.

Batman realized Dick was afraid of him… A side effect of the poison no doubt. To avoid any further problems or confusion, the caped hero reached up, yanked off his cowl, and tossed it aside in one quick motion. Holding out his hands slowly, he tried to make peace with his boy.

“It’s okay, Dick, it’s me. It’s Bruce. I won't hurt you. You’ve been infected with some kind of Scarecrow toxin. It’s going to be okay, you’re just–”

“NOOO! STAY AWAY!” Dick panicked more, his voice screeching higher and higher. Nothing was working. He was shaking and trembling, his hands clawing at the ground and walls as he clumsily struggled to distance himself from whatever kind of monster he visualized as the man before him. Bruce swallowed a worried lump in his throat and took another step closer, but before he could try to calm down the boy, Dick bolted up and away.

“ DON’T HURT ME!! ”

Bruce yelled after him, trying to catch him as he chased after. However, as the scared man neared the edge of the cave, the older man gasped with a stark frightening realization of what could happen if the boy didn’t stop running.

“Dick! WAIT ! Stop running!!”

Blind to his hysteria, the young boy had no idea what he was doing or where he was going. All he knew was that he had to get away from the monster. But, soon enough he gasped with renewed fear as he saw what he was approaching.

The edge of the cliff.

“DICK, STOP !!”

With a loud gasping shout, barely hearing the cloudy shouts of urgency behind him, Dick scrambled and tried to halt the brakes on his run, but he couldn’t stop in time. Slipping and sliding on the rocks, he screamed at the top of his lungs as he fell sideways on his hip before crashing over the edge. 

Thankfully, he never made it to the bottom.

“I got you!”

Blue eyes darted back up and saw the monster. The same monster that was chasing him. This time, the monster had his hand.

Dick continued to yell and freak, his voice crackling with absolute fright, a tear falling down his cheeks as he strained to get away and free. The monster kept his firm grip.

“Stop struggling, Dick!! You’re going to fall!!”

A few more seconds passed by as the boy continued to shout, but without warning he slumped and fell unconscious, becoming a dead-weight in Bruce’s arms. 

Bruce grunted and yanked him up, clawing and dragging him up by his limbs. When he secured him away from danger and held him close, he observed Dick was now burning up with fever, sweating, and nearly hyperventilating. Wayne swore under his breath at the alarming turn of events and picked him up in his arms, holding him while he raced back towards the med bay.

“Oh my word, what on Earth was that?!”

The hero managed to catch his breath and steady his own heart as the near fatal accident was over. Bruce placed Dick back on the bed and closed his eyes for a beat before training them up on the worried brow of his butler.

“I need to run blood tests. Alfred, prepare the necessary equipment.”

When Pennyworth went to do just that, Bruce took a second to realize how close they were just now to Dick taking a nosedive over the cliff to his death. It was shocking and terrifying, enough to shake him. 

After Alfred arrived back seconds later, Bruce steadied his hand enough to take a few samples of Dick’s blood, ensuring he would be able to have enough to find a cure for whatever was going on in the young man’s body. As he drew the vials, Alfred placed a breathing mask on the younger hero’s face and proceeded to take his temperature.

Alfred tsked as he checked the thermometer, “Fever of 105, sir. Much too high for my liking.”

Bruce took the vials of blood over to the research station with a heavy sigh, “Or mine. I’ll be busy for a while, Alfred. I have to figure out what this is.”

An hour later, there was no luck. Bruce slammed his fist on the table.

“Dammit… Nothing…”

“Nothing, sir? What do you mean ‘nothing’?”

Bruce exhaled loudly and shook his head as Alfred approached. “I mean nothing. No abnormal cells, no discoloration, no signs of anything foreign. I just don’t get it. It’s like his blood is clean.”

“Does this mean he wasn’t affected by Scarecrow’s toxin?”

“I… I don’t know. He had to have been. There’s no other explanation.”

Alfred frowned, also confused, “But I don’t understand… What then could possibly have caused Master Dick to act that way? To act afraid of you?” 

Rubbing a shaky hand over his tired face, Bruce had no answers. Robin had nearly passed out against the car back at the zoo. Even Gordon noticed something was off about him, off enough to ask about it. There would be no other explanation than the boy being infected with the toxin… 

However, as he thought of making another speculation, a noise interrupted them again. Already on edge from the earlier incident, Bruce and Alfred were now alert to the med bay. They looked at each other with worry before bolting towards the sounds near the bed a short distance away. Sure enough, they noticed Dick was awake.

Not just ‘awake’, but throwing objects around.

Bruce shouted as he ran closer, “Dick! What are you doing!?”

The young man spun around at once, but what Bruce saw wasn’t a scared or frightened boy. He saw a look of anger in the icy blues that made him freeze in his tracks and take in the absolute heat coming off of the sneer across Dick’s face. He wasn’t scared anymore… He was downright mad.

“YOU!”

Dick growled at Bruce, glaring daggers his way. Squaring up to the older man, the hatred practically seeped out of his pores. 

“Stay away from me! It’s all your fault !”

Bruce blinked at the random accusation, completely confused at the change of tone from before.

“Wh-what are you talking about? What are you–”

“I said stay away!”

Grayson raised his fists, preparing to fight with anyone that came closer. Despite the shift from fear to fury, the boy looked the same: clammy skin, pale yet flushed, sweat beading on the forehead indicative of a rising fever, and trembling limbs. His breathing came in steady heaving pants as if he were struggling to maintain normalcy in his lungs, like his throat was closing in. Although a new addition was the developing bags under his eyes.

“You’re never there for me! You’ve never been there for me! For them ! It’s all your fault !”

Bruce had no idea what was going on, no idea what could make Dick act this way. They were used to the fear toxins, but this was something new. Grayson was raging beyond belief, and it scared him something fierce. The older man swallowed a lump of uncertainty in his throat and held up his hands to show a sign of peace.

“Look Dick, you’ve been infected with some kind of fear toxin from the Scarecrow. You need to go back to bed so we can–”

“There you go again!”, Dick spat back nastily, “Treating me like a kid ! Always telling me what to do! No, ORDERING me what to do! You’ve never treated me like an equal! You’ve always thought of me as less than a person! You don’t respect me.” Reaching down, Dick threw another piece of equipment at Bruce who ducked easily. “You don’t care about me!”

“That’s not true!”

“ YOU DON’T LOVE ME!!”

Bruce gasped at the insult as he continued to fend off the boy’s tossing of random items. To hear those words hit him in the chest hard, like someone had just stabbed his heart. All he could mutter was a shuddering whisper of shock as his eyes widened.

“Dick, I… Why would you even–”

“I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU!!” , Dick screeched back, this time with tears in his eyes, “YOU–”

He never finished his tirade. Instead, he pushed off the wall and took off from the med bay and away from Bruce.

Dick didn’t make it far though: he was stopped mid run, causing him to look back and see his wrist was attached to Wayne’s fist. However, not to be stopped, despite the older man urging him to stop and wait, Dick spun around, wound up and decked Bruce in the face, freeing his hand. 

The pressure on his wrist loosened enough for him to continue to make his way around the corner, past Alfred, and up the stairs.

When Dick busted through the clock and into the manor, Bruce was hot on his heels, shouting for him to come back.

“Dick, wait!”

He did not. Flinging himself over the desk and into the main foyer, the natural acrobat flew through the hall and into the main living room.

Bruce once again ducked more objects that were thrown his way, including the boy’s cape that had been discarded as a distraction, doing his darndest to reach his boy before he did anymore damage… to things or himself.

“You have to stop running!”

“You can’t keep me here like a prisoner!”

“You’re not a prisoner, Dick!” Bruce tried to reason, chasing after the boy who flipped easily over the couches, “You’re my–”

The father-figure stopped short of saying son , realizing in a heartbeat how easily it nearly came out, but before he could think about it more his ward froze and spun around as he reached the bottom of the stairs that led to the residence wing. Dick bared his teeth and snapped back.

“I’m NOBODY to you and you’re NOBODY TO ME! You’re NOT my father! You never will be! I’m just a stupid, pathetic puppet to you! Just someone expendable for your mission, because that’s all that matters! Batman is the only thing you care about! I don’t want to see you anymore! SO GET AWAY! I HATE YOU!!”

It stabbed Bruce Wayne each and every time Dick said those nasty words, like a knife in his heart. Even though he knew it was the toxin making him say it, deep down he feared that it was the toxin’s intended nature that drew the truth from its victim. What if this is what Dick truly felt? What if he actually believed all of this? What if this was his truth?

Bruce swallowed down the hurt and pain and refocused on his ward in front of him, his fists still in the air. He spoke in the calmest, coolest, and most empathetic way he could possibly muster despite the aching in his chest and the stinging behind his wide and worried eyes.

“You have to fight whatever’s happening to you, Dick. You… You don’t mean to say these things.”

At least he prayed the boy didn’t mean to say these things. He didn’t know what he would do if he did…

Dick growled and backed away, feeling cornered as Bruce cautiously came closer, his hands held up in front of him. When his foot landed on the bottom step, Grayson spun and raced up and away towards the second level. Bruce did the same, immediately running after him. He thought he had the upper hand when he reached the top step, but he didn’t… Instead of taking down the halls, Dick launched himself backwards over Bruce and kicked his back to make the man fall forward with momentum, flipped twice more and landed effortlessly on the banister like a true gymnast.

Bruce sat back up and turned to see the boy surfing down the banister. Grayson flew down the thin railing, and what happened next made Bruce’s blood turn cold… He knew what was going to happen. He’d seen it a million times. Except this time wouldn’t end well and he knew it.

“Dick, stop! Don't jump!”

Dick, still sliding, coiled his legs and sprung upwards into the air at the last minute, reaching out to cling on to the chandelier that hung in the middle of the room in order to make his athletic get-away.

Yet, his grip never landed…

The boy missed completely, fell half a story, rolled and tumbled awkwardly on the hard floor, and slammed to a halt into a desk… He didn’t get back up.

Bruce shouted his name and ran urgently back down the stairs, three steps at a time. When he reached the downed man, he turned him over to see Dick nearly out of it again, his eyelids fluttering and twitching, his lungs harshly straining to gulp in any air he could, and sweat pouring down his forehead like before. Just as hot and feverish. Just as shaky and trembling. This time, though, he had a nice knot developing on his cheek from smashing into the floor.

Seemingly, in his toxin-induced stupor, Dick had forgotten Bruce and Alfred raised the height of the chandelier years ago due to all the times the acrobat swung from it as a child…

Gently, Bruce once again picked Dick up in his arms and carried him back downstairs, passing a concerned Alfred as he reached the grandfather clock.

“My word, Master Bruce… Whatever this is is more dangerous than we thought.”

“I know.” was all the distraught billionaire could mutter.

When the boy was hooked back up to the breathing mask and heart rate monitor, Bruce closed his eyes once more, hung his head, and recalled the entire ordeal… 

All those words hurt… They hurt more than he cared to admit out loud. He knew Dick wasn’t in his right mind, either, but the nagging feeling that maybe it was reality being exposed stung tremendously.

He couldn’t dwell on it for long.  After another beat passed by, he collected his feelings and emotions, checked himself against thinking too much about what was said to him, and got back to work.

After a minute or two of focus back at the computer, a small elderly voice cut through his inner turmoil, a quiet understanding filled with sympathy.

“Master Bruce, you know the lad didn’t mean to say any of–”

“I need to figure out whatever’s in his system. I need to find a cure…”

Alfred watched as his own charge worked tirelessly, his fingers clacking against the console as he remained focused. He knew, without needing to be told, how all those words must have affected him. But he simply nodded silently and walked away, knowing the Dark Knight would not voice any of his thoughts regarding the hatred Dick threw in his face.

Another hour had passed. The night was growing long. Longer than anyone wanted it to go on. 

“Any breakthroughs on a way to help our poor boy, Master Bruce?”

The billionaire exhaled harshly, a throaty grunt emanating from the depths of his soul to show how truly drained he was from his endeavor of finding an antidote. His fidgety hands wrung across his face and through his hair as Alfred approached. Bruce was exhausted… More mentally than physically, at least. Yet he was as determined as ever to find any kind of cure to help his boy who had been tormented with uncontrollable fear and unnatural hatred. During both episodes, Dick’s outbursts of raw emotions caused an abrupt uproar in the cave, resulting in the boy losing consciousness both times to fall deeper into his mind’s trap caused by the toxin.

“No… This is the third time I’m running his blood results through the mainframe. I… I don’t know what I’ll do if they don’t–”

DING

The smallest noise made both adults look up at the screen, the former more aware of its implications than the latter. The billionaire stood up from his chair, nearly toppling the large seat as he gazed searchingly at the information that popped up.

“Master Bruce?”

The hero scanned the results and gasped, a smidgeon of a hopeful smile cresting his features.

“It’s… This is it! Alfred! I can make an antidote!”

Alfred stared happily as his charge took off towards the chemistry set, frantically preparing the chemicals, tubes, vials, and other equipment he would need to put together something to help Dick. The butler was thoroughly relieved.

“Oh my goodness… Thank the Heavens.”

The World’s Greatest Detective got right to work… Trial after trial, test after test the antidote was underway. After another hour, Bruce clutched the precious test tube of blue liquid carefully in hand. He gazed at it as if it were gold and glass at the same time, treating it like it were the most valuable and delicate thing in the world. He transferred it into a syringe, ready for administration.

“Finally…”

He stood up and walked back briskly to the other room in the cave, Alfred in tow, to give his boy the necessary cure to drive the poison from his system. However, once they had the med bay in their sights, a very unnerving and unsettling sight lay before them.

The bed was empty.

Bruce gasped and spun around to see if he could spot Dick anywhere nearby, “What? Where did he go?!”

“I haven’t the slightest idea!” Alfred shook his head, feeling helpless. “He was just there moments ago.”

“Look everywhere! Find him! He’s not in his right mind; he could do something crazy! He could hurt himself!!”

Instantly, in a fury of panic, both Bruce and Alfred stomped and stormed and raced about the cave, shouting the boy’s name for his whereabouts, growing more worried each minute Dick remained missing. They searched behind machines, near the Batmobile, around the gymnastics equipment, everywhere.

“Alfred, check up in the manor, I’ll keep looking down here!”

“Of course, sir!”

Taking off in opposite directions, they continued their search. Bruce sprinted around, his heart beating faster and faster the longer it went on, growing more scared by the second.

Until he saw him.

Bruce lit up with a gasp when he came to the section in the cave that acted as a natural high-wire scenario, a narrow stretch of cave rock that expanded across a vast cavern. It was enough to send anyone with a dizzying fear of heights to their knees, but for a circus acrobat it was playtime.

Not now, though.

Dick Grayson was a good distance away from the edge, maybe ten or fifteen feet out, perched easily on the slim surface. Facing out towards the empty space, the boy stood as still as possible. Like a statue. Bruce had no idea what was happening or why he was there, but there was no doubt in his mind it wasn’t a good sign.

“Dick?” Bruce approached slowly, not wanting to startle the boy who was centimeters away from falling. He spoke in comforting tones– as comforting as he could while trying to keep his voice from trembling that would give away his fear at the moment. “Dick, what are you doing? You can’t be out there. You could–”

“I don’t deserve this.”

The billionaire frowned at the boy’s hollow words. He had no idea what he meant. Deserve what? Why was he speaking this way?

“You don’t deserve what?”

Dick’s voice cracked. A dry, emotionless emptiness came through over his typical jovial lilt. It unnerved Bruce to say the least, and terrified him at the most.

“Don’t deserve to live.”

Oh no

Bruce’s eyes widened when he realized what was happening. Dick was standing out on this ledge for a reason, and it wasn’t so he could get in some back handspring practice. It was much, much worse than that… He gulped and held up his now shaking hands, preparing for the absolute worst. Again, he tried to calm down his ward… and himself.

“Dick… Please… You need to get back here. You can’t–”

“I’m a failure.” Grayson croaked, his voice shaking. It was as if his voice were not his own, Bruce noted. Like a haunted echo of the past coming out, making the boy’s lips move with words that weren’t his own. “Can’t do anything right… Mess everything up. You hate me.”

“That’s not true.” Bruce tried to reason, inching slowly closer with his hands out, his eyes pleading with the boy to not go down this mental road. Truth was, he was having a hard time keeping his voice steady. “You are not a failure. And I do not hate you.”

“It should have been me to die that night… Not them… It should have been… should have been me . Should have died… ”

Bruce Wayne’s heart skipped several beats as Dick’s emotionless facade began to crumble. His boy was wishing himself deceased… He was wishing himself dead . The older man vehemently shook his head and inched even closer, praying he would reach his boy before anything happened. 

“Dick, no. No! Don’t think that way.”

When he got closer, he could see the horrible state Dick was in: large purple bags hung under his eyes, his jaw was taut and rigid, his hair was mussed, and every inch of his body shook with small tremors. Not even that, but he hadn’t blinked the entire time. Wide, bloodshot blue eyes stared unflinching at the darkness below him, seeing something not there.

He looked terrible…

Bruce had to stop him from this mindset. Now.

“Please… Walk back this way, Dick. Walk to me.”

“They fell… I need to fall...”

“No, no. Don’t you dare! Don’t you dare say that!”

“I need to… have to die…”

The former circus star shifted his foot, causing a small crumble of rock to fall down the abyss. This small movement forced Bruce to stop and collect himself. His own breath was coming in short as panic gripped his chest, one of his worst fears coming true. Shaking himself out of it, he moved on cautiously, not wanting to make any sudden moves that would make Dick react and fall.

“Dick, please . Listen to me… You can’t think this way. This isn’t you.” A tear fell down Bruce’s cheeks as his strained voice begged his boy to stay with him.

“I screw everything up.” Grayson’s face distorted with grief, his exhausted stale eyes shedding new tears while staring absently at the black space beneath him as if he weren’t focused on anything at all. “The worst… In everyone’s way. Useless. No good to anyone…. Should have died instead of them… should have died… I need to… to die .”

Bruce gulped again, swallowing the enormous lump in his throat that settled there. It was as if his esophagus was closing in from the absolute horror he was experiencing. As he took one more step closer, he was nearly within arm’s reach. Still close enough to the main edge but far enough away he couldn’t grab a hold of it if things went sour. However, a horrified gasp off to the side made him aware someone else was there. Alfred…

He refocused on his boy ahead of him.

“Dick, you need to listen to me.” Bruce pleaded again, his resolve breaking while his insides were ripping apart. He paused to gather his breathing and take another step. “You are not a failure, do you hear me? You are not useless. You do not deserve to die. Scarecrow messed with your mind. This isn’t you .” 

“I’m not good enough to be your son.”

Now that made Bruce’s heart drop past his stomach straight to his boots… He froze, his eyes staring straight at the boy as he achingly said those words. Mouth open, Bruce couldn’t think of anything other than how unreal that statement was. If anything, Bruce Wayne wasn’t good enough to be any kind of father-figure to Dick Grayson, that much he reasoned with himself. But to think Dick wasn’t worthy or good enough to be his son? Absolute garbage.

“You deserve a good son… Not me. Wasn’t good enough for my parents. Died because of me… Not good enough for them… for anyone. I’m not… I’m not good enough for you… Not good enough… Not… not enough …”

The boy mumbled repeatedly his believed inadequacies, like a stoic mantra that made Bruce feel like this truly was how he felt. That this was indeed what Dick really went through on a daily basis. Was this fear toxin some kind of truth serum? He had speculations before, but now he was starting to feel there was more to this drug than met the eye.

At least he had an antidote… But that wouldn’t do any good if he couldn’t give it to him.

Slowly, Bruce watched with horror as the entranced man lifted one leg and slowly began to fall forward. 

“ DICK , NO !!”

Wayne abandoned all caution and took the last remaining two steps forward to nab Dick’s hand and pull him away from the abyss, wrapping his own arms around his torso. In one swift motion, the older man lifted him, turned, and ran, taking the widest steps he could to throw himself and his boy onto the ledge and away from danger. They both landed and rolled together, Bruce taking the brunt of the fall.

 It was over within seconds, gratefully. 

Except that it wasn’t.

“ NOOO !” Dick screamed, writhing in his guardian’s clutches as he realized he was back to safety. He squirmed and attempted to free himself, wetness rolling down his face from his toxin-coded blues, his arms and legs flailing to do everything he could to get back to his main task. Even Grayson’s breathing suddenly started to hitch and intensify, just like before. A borderline hyperventilation, his lungs heaved and panted as sweat poured down his flushed pale skin. “ NOOO!! NEED TO FALL!! ”

Bruce simply held on firmly, fighting against the strong force that threatened to do harm to himself. He grit his teeth and bared down against the struggle, legs holding steady as his ward scraped against the ground like an animal. Between his own roaring tears and aching muscles, he squeezed Dick against his chest to prevent him from getting away. 

“NO! This isn’t you! It’s the poison talking! You can’t do this!! PLEASE !!"

“ NOOOO!! CAN’T LIVE!! CAN’T LIVE!! DON’T DESERVE!! LET ME GO!!”

“Stay with me, Dick!! Stay with me!! You have to fight this!! I need you!!”

“ NOOOOO!! ”

At this point, Dick’s struggle became less words and more grunts and cries, his prior stoicism cracking to a full blown hysterical meltdown. Sobs grew louder and more animalistic, his breathing manic and erratic. But still, his guardian held strong, straining to keep his strong partner and son tight against his chest as he fought valiantly, dust and rock and dirt flying as their legs kicked and bucked. Quickly, Bruce yelled over his shoulder.

“ Alfred !! Get the antidote! NOW!!”

The butler did as he was told without a second thought. In no time at all, but what still felt like an eon to the octopus of limbs that either tried to hold steady or lurch free, Alfred was back with the syringe. Bruce, tear-stained and agonized, gripped the screaming boy even tighter. He didn’t need to tell Pennyworth what to do. 

In mere moments after the injection, Dick’s poison-induced stupor that sent him on a verbal and physical rampage to end his life finally slowed down. His eyes fluttered and twitched, his breathing was still strained and wild, but his muscles loosened and soon his body succumbed to a state of semi-consciousness. Going limp in his father-figure’s grasp, Dick’s head flopped backwards against Bruce’s shoulder, letting the older man know the fight was over.

At least, the physical fight.

Bruce Wayne gaped and gulped to re-right his own lungs, relaxing his stance and grip slightly so that the boy wouldn’t be completely bruised. However, he didn’t relinquish control. Bruce stared down at the unconscious boy for a few seconds, trying to match his brain to what actually just happened… trying to recognize that what just occurred was truly real…

His boy tried to kill himself… The Scarecrow’s toxin tried to make Dick kill himself… 

Dear God, what is this thing?! What is happening?!

Then Bruce cinched his eyes shut and pulled Dick in closer, hugging his son for dear life, not bothering to fight the agony that tore at his heart or wipe away the tears that flowed down his cheeks onto the black head of hair. He didn’t even flinch when his own surrogate father-figure wrapped his arms around the two of them, letting him know the older man was also distraught over the event while offering whatever support he could.

They were both spent… in more ways than one. And right now, all they could do was sit there and hold on.

After several minutes, Bruce eventually calmed down and sniffed back his distress… He lifted his weary head and stood up, cradling Dick on the way back to the med bay… He laid the boy carefully down on the bed, to which Alfred immediately administered a breathing mask to aid him in easing the labored, strangled wheezing.

To avoid any further traumatizing events, Wayne grabbed some security straps and tightened Dick’s wrists to the bed, preventing him from getting out of his bed anytime soon.

When the boy was settled back down, secured, and hooked up to the monitors once more, Bruce allowed his head to drop to his chest as he remained standing, shaking… taking it all in… It wasn’t until a few moments of tense silence passed by that he moved under the hand of Alfred to sit back down at the computer chair.

Alfred’s eyes rotated back and forth from each of the young men, not remembering the last time they were in for such a dramatic, horrific, and downright scary ride… Yet as the Dark Knight set back to work typing, his servant gave it a few moments before he quietly approached him, his voice full of empathy.

“Master Bruce? Are you alright?”

No response… 

Alfred knew when to cut his losses and not push the subject. He shook his head dejectedly and left his charge to his own devices, knowing that the man was shaken up more than he cared to admit. Returning to keep a vigil watch on the sedated, hopefully healing, young hero, the older gentleman didn’t hear a sniffle coming from the billionaire.

Hours later, the time neared the early dawn hours in the Batcave. The sunrise was nearing the hills outside. Bruce had tried to busy himself with studying more of the toxin he found in Dick’s blood. Specifically, why it took so long to show up in any of the tests. What did Scarecrow and/or the Joker do to the poison to make it untraceable for quite some time? Was that part of the ploy? Was it to ward off any potential cures down the road?

Or was it intended to force its victim into a roller coaster of emotions that would ultimately end in their demise?

He wasn’t sure… Which made him even more frightened…

Bruce was nearing the end of his wits, ready to call it quit. He was no closer to finding out answers to any of his questions. As he rubbed a tired hand over his jaw, he heard a stirring coming from the med bay.

Dick.

Lifting his head, he focused in again, once more hearing a muffled moan. Immediately, Bruce was by Dick’s side in a heartbeat, crossing the short distance to the bed quickly. Reaching the edge of the bed, now with Alfred by his side also remarking about the boy waking up, the billionaire watched eagerly as the bedridden boy’s eyes twitched.

“Dick?”

“Hmmm… Ugh…”

Alfred breathed a sigh of relief. “Oh my goodness, my dear boy. We’re so happy to see you alright.”

“Uuunnnggh… If by ‘alright’ you mean like I got hit by a bus that was on fire, then sure… yeah…” He quipped back, pinching his eyes tighter very obviously discomforted.

Slowly, despite the absolute dull, throbbing ache all over his body and in his head, the sleepy, puffy blue eyes cracked open. They were unfocused, to be sure, bogged down with the remnants of whatever was in his system. Dick blinked furiously to gather his senses and opened them wider, but as he turned his head and saw his two guardians standing over him, something didn’t feel right…

He had realized in his movements that his arms wouldn’t budge. They were stuck. Lifting his head to his hands, he noticed he was strapped down. Struggling weakly against the restraints, Dick moaned and whimpered as he tried to free his hands. He was still out of it, so he wasn’t doing a very good job of freeing himself, but when he felt pressure on his arm, he looked searchingly up at his guardian standing over him.

“B-Bruce? What is this? Wh-what’s going on? Wh-why is my… What’s the…”

The father-figure noticed his boy seemed panicked– rightfully so–, so he tried to put him at ease while needing to make sure everything was normal again... Speaking as calmly as he could while he looked Dick straight in the eye, Bruce pointedly, directly, asked him a series of important questions.

“Dick, listen to me… Do you know where you are?”

The boy blinked a few times at the odd question, glancing around the space he was in. Taking another shaky breath, he looked back to Bruce and answered timidly.

“I’m… I’m in the Batcave. Bruce, what's going on?"

Bruce nodded, pleased with the answer. Softly, he asked another one and ignored the boy's question.

“What’s the last thing you remember?”

This time, it took the young man a few moments to answer. Thoughtfully, he stared off into space, pinching his brow as he tried to remember anything that could help answer his questions. Carefully, he turned his bright blues back to his guardian and answered in a meek voice as it dawned on him.

“S-scarecrow… We were… W-we were at the zoo.”

Again, Bruce nodded, more relieved than ever that Dick seemed to have some wits about him. He remembered the mission. He knew it was about the Scarecrow. But, maybe he didn’t know what happened afterwards.

“What happened at the zoo?”

It was difficult for both adults watching the young acrobat struggle with his memory, feeling sorry for him as he closed his eyes and laid his head back, doing everything he could to recollect the events.

“It was… He was there with the Joker.” Dick listed off the events slowly, deliberately making sure he got it right. “I went to the aquarium… Scarecrow had a–” He lit up and opened his doe eyes back at his partner. “D-did he get away? Did they escape? I-I’m so sorry, Bruce, I tried, I really did. He just… He tried to–”

“No, Dick, we got them.” Bruce reassured his boy quickly, cutting off any self-deprecation and guilt trip. The last thing he needed was him going off on some tangent to blame himself unnecessarily. “Joker and Scarecrow are both back in Arkham.”

Breathing a shaky sigh of relief, Dick let his head flop back onto the pillow– which elicited a moaning whimper at the massive headache smashing his brain.

“Do you remember anything after that?”

At this point, Grayson had begun to suspect that something more happened than he remembered. Something more detrimental or incidental or substantial must have occurred for Bruce to be asking all these questions… more specifically for his arms to still be strapped down. He had woken up several minutes ago, but yet the older man had made no move to free him. 

Perhaps, he worried, there was something HE did…

Slowly, Dick looked back up to Bruce, his worried eyes now even more curious and apprehensive than before. His breathing started to hitch as he grew increasingly agitated and scared. His voice seemed small and nervous… 

“Br-Bruce… Y-you're freaking me out, man. W-what did I do? Did... D-did I do something wrong?"

That did it. A light flashed in the older man’s eyes, a haunted light, as if that question immediately triggered a flashback of epic proportions. Dick noticed Bruce’s eyes grow dark and his jaw tighten with recognition. Something happened, he knew. Something happened.

But, true to fashion and on character, the older man quickly shook his head and ignored the matter, going right to making everything seem perfectly normal. Batman took back over, replacing the calm and kind Bruce with the stoic and guarded vision of vengeance and justice. He cleared his throat and removed the traumatic memories of recent from his mind and went to remove the straps from Dick’s arms.

“Nothing… You did nothing. It’s okay, Dick… Just a precaution, that’s all. It’s fine now.”

The red and green hero cautiously sat up while groaning against the discomfort of moving an inch. Looking down at his chest, the young man complained loudly when he noticed the bruises and bumps over his arms and bare chest. 

The bruises caused by a decent fall from the chandelier… and Bruce’s alligator hold on him…

Dick coughed and winced, rubbing at the marks, very seriously confused about the lack of answers on his end.

“Precaution from what? What did happen? Why am I… I-I don’t understa–”

“Everything is fine.” Batman interrupted and redirected the attention back to mission from the Zoo, his voice curt and to the point. “Scarecrow and Joker were detained. Their toxin won’t spread to others. Everything’s going to be fine.” Then he glanced off to the side back to the computer before turning back to Dick, barely making eye contact. He was back to business... “You need to get some rest.”

“But… Why? If nothing happened, why do I need–”

“I said don’t worry about it.”

Dick paused, blinking confusedly at his guardian who was quick to shut down any more talk of the events. Taking one quick look to Alfred, who had his own judgmental eyes trained on the brooding older man, he turned back to Bruce. But, before he could ask anymore questions, he was cut off.

“I have a meeting this morning at the office.” Batman announced to the other two, leaving them behind as he walked towards the stairs exit. “I should be home around 11:00.”

And then he was gone. Just like that, the cave went silent again. The boy hung his head and laid back on the bed, staring at the high ceiling of the cave while their butler next to him remained stationary, his eyes boring holes into the back of the billionaire as he walked away.

Dick had enough sense about him to figure out a few things in short time of being awake. 

He did something… Bruce doesn’t walk to talk about it… And Alfred was pissed…

****

A few days had passed by. Dick Grayson had fully recovered from the toxin as evidenced by his actions – or rather, lack of actions that were obviously out of the ordinary (i.e. being unnaturally afraid, exceedingly angry, or frighteningly suicidal). 

Batman mass produced the antidote in the anticipated case the poison would turn up in the city at any point in the near future – most likely due to the revolving door that was Arkham Asylum. Surely at some point the Joker and/or Scarecrow would make their escape and try again. And Batman swore to be ready for them… no matter what.

Bruce had remained closed off, for the most part. He continued on in his dark ways, emotionally shut off. However, Dick noticed that he had become even more so in the past few days. He would make excuses to not use Robin as much, only offering him out after four days for a regular routine rounding of the city. Even as Dick tried to get his guardian to talk about what happened, each time he was met with either a noncommittal gruff, silence, or a very jagged ‘there’s nothing to discuss.’

If one didn’t know any better, one would think Batman was shutting himself off from anyone near to him.

That one person would be Dick Grayson.

Batman and Robin stood on a rooftop in Gotham’s more affluent areas – in other words, they were watching the banks. It was late. The Dark Knight kept a vigil on the city through his binoculars while the Boy Wonder remained motionless, his cape fully surrounding him to keep the chill off his half-bare arms. This was the first night in so many days that Robin was allowed back on patrol and he was determined to do everything in his power to keep it a peaceful one.

Risking a forlorn look over his shoulder, he watched as Batman scoured the area through his lenses, not bothering to say one word to him since they landed on the high-rise an hour ago. Robin, catching a hint when it was thrown to him, didn’t even bother to speak up… Sighing internally, he redirected his solemn gaze back to the streets.

What Robin didn’t know was that the events of recent were tearing up Batman on the inside on a minute by minute basis.

What Robin didn’t know was that Bruce couldn’t go one minute of the day without thinking about what happened. Without thinking about how Dick nearly toppled over the edge to his death… twice. One of the times being by his own hand rather than the accident. He didn’t know how Bruce was playing Dick’s hateful spiteful words over and over in his mind, reliving the insults and stings as Dick blamed him for everything, accused him of not caring for him, not loving him, calling him anything but a worthless human being.

What Robin didn’t know was that Batman was taking every angle to avoid discussing the traumatic night, which meant avoiding any conversation that could lead to it… which meant avoiding Dick.

Which meant, all Robin did know was that Batman had barely spoken to him in so many days… and all he could think was that it was his fault.

An hour passed on the roof with no sign of criminal activity. Robin was beginning to grow restless, but he dared not speak up. He just kept to himself, kept his eyes on the city, and followed directions.

Batman noticed.

Batman spared another look at his partner; something he was doing quite often that night out of fear that some new symptom of the toxin would rear its ugly head and sprout back up, causing him to leap off the rooftop when he wasn’t watching. It was unnerving and highly stressful. But, as Alfred had suggested, Robin would be a better asset by his side than sitting by himself in the cave.

Or, as Alfred remembered it…

“Bruce Wayne, you will take that boy out tonight by your side and talk to him or so help me I will starch every single one of your shirts and smack you over the head with it myself!”

Bruce listened…

But he hadn’t talked yet.

He didn’t want to. He couldn’t… What could he say now? So much time has passed. How could he bring it up without sounding like a pathetic unemotional beast? What could he say to Dick that would make up for all the days of absolute silence with attitude?

Batman’s gaze remained on his partner. The boy stood there, silently, his cape still subtly swirling around him in the late night breeze. He looked worn down yet alert, very guarded and wary, like he wanted the action but also wanted to go home and curl up in his bed simultaneously. Dick looked conflicted and cautious but also like he wanted to talk someone’s ear off. He knew the look on the boy’s face all too well… He’d known it for years. A rambunctious, extroverted, ray of sunshine he was, and he had no problems opening up to people if they’d allow it. But the look on his face right now was not that.

It was guilt. Tremendous guilt.

And he knew why it was there…

Batman’s insides twitched and somersaulted. He knew what he had to do. He couldn’t go on like this. He couldn’t leave things as is. If what the toxin really did was to expose the truth, then he knew he couldn’t live one more day allowing those thoughts to dance around Dick Grayson’s mind space… and he couldn’t live one more day knowing he was the root cause of all of it. Deep down, he didn’t want to ever think of that night ever again. But also, deep down, he knew that if he didn’t address it at some point then his ward would absolutely keep thinking that… especially if he were ignoring the issue. It would further drive home his feelings. Batman looked back out to the city, took a deep breath, and closed his eyes.

“You’re not a failure, Dick.”

His reaction happened within seconds… Robin’s head swiveled instantly at the soft words. He blinked a couple times when the words registered, even more so surprised at the fact that Batman had said his real name in public. That was typically a no-go rule for the protection of their secret identities. 

“Wh-what?”

Batman lifted his head towards the city – not to Robin–, his usually stoic and stern brow softened. He took another deep breath through his nose and released it slowly, gathering his thoughts and his nerves.

Watching his partner and mentor very clearly out of character, Robin wasn’t sure where this was going. But, he was all ears. Fully attentive, he watched all the signs as the typically dark and gloomy man wrestled with his emotional inner turmoil. Batman’s jaw tightened and clenched, seemingly at war with wanting to stay quiet and keep talking… but the latter won out.

“You are not a failure. You don’t screw things up. You are not useless.”

Batman, after a few seconds, turned his head to look at his young partner square in the face, his hardened visage losing its edge. A gentle expression overtook his face, like he was speaking from the heart. Even his voice eased up from its vigilante act.

Robin could only stare back… He was confused, but intrigued enough to stay quiet. It wasn’t often Batman opened up like this, for whatever reason, so he knew he shouldn’t interrupt.

“Sometimes," he mulled over his words, "things in our lives don’t go as planned. Accidents happen. Mistakes occur. Tragedies tear us apart... You and I both have had our fair share of things not going our way, whether due to our own devices or something completely out of our control, both in costume or in our regular lives. Mistakes are natural, and learning from them makes us human. But throughout it all, throughout the entire time I’ve known you…”, the gravely, emotional voice paused, “I’ve never once considered you a failure. Or a screw up. Or useless… Or as someone unworthy.” The man turned to completely face his boy, the slits of his eyes soft and his voice low and heartfelt, “And if there’s anything I’ve ever done or said to cause you to feel that way, to make you feel like you’re anything less than amazing, to make you feel that you’re not worthy of being my partner… I’m sorry.”

The red and green hero was stunned… Robin’s eyes were never wider. His mouth opened slightly with his guardian’s admission of guilt and apology. He knew that Batman never says sorry… Like, ever! Robin was too caught off guard to say anything quippy or sarcastic, either. All he could do was stare. But, his partner went on, taking a few steps forward to meet him, stopping a foot or two before him.

“You deserve the best in this life, Dick, whether deep down you believe it or not. You deserve to be in this world. You dese–” Batman paused, shaking his head as he thought of better words. “No… The world is honored to have you in it. The world is a better place because you’re alive. My life is better because you’re with me. I am honored to call you my partner… my friend… And while it may not be something you've accepted in your heart or ever will, to which I fully understand," he pursed his lips, controlling his emotions, "I am honored to consider you my son .”

If there was a moment for Dick Grayson OR Robin to completely freak out from the unnatural admission of openness from his stoic partner, that moment would be now. However, again, all he could do was stare, his blues growing wider than he ever thought possible. He was floored, to say the least, at the uncharacteristically kind words from his boss, from his mentor, partner… father. Admittedly, for a while, Dick hadn't wanted to consider Bruce a father out of fear he would replace his own. But as time grew on, he had started to develop a familial feeling beyond simply being a ward of a partner in justice. Then, Batman lifted his hand and placed it gently on his shoulder; he could feel the warmth emanating from the older man. He could feel the gentleness and strength in his words. A soft smile lifted on his cheeks and whispered, his voice cracking ever so slightly, enough for the young man to notice.

“I love you, Dick.”

Correction… NOW would be the time for the former acrobat to freak out…

Dick Grayson couldn’t believe it. Not once in his nine years of living with Bruce Wayne did he ever hear the older man apologize for any wrong doing. Not once had he heard the words ‘I love you’ uttered. Not once did he hear the expression of love admitted. At least, out loud. Sure, he knew Bruce cared about him, that wasn’t the question. But to acknowledge that he considered him a son? It floored the young man. Even the look on the older man’s face alarmed him -- although, confused and puzzled was more like it. He was Batman, sure, with the cape and cowl and signal upon his chest. But his smile was all heart. It was odd to see a caring, loving grin upon the grizzly hero’s face. If this weren't such a serious moment, Dick would surely make some kind of joke or question who swapped bodies with the Dark Knight.

Instead of teasing and joking, though, he took it for what it was worth. Robin couldn’t help but feel his chest swell. As he allowed his father’s words to sink in, he could feel a wetness behind his mask as his eyes threatened to leak. He pursed his lips and trembled slightly, his whole body coursing with emotional energy he hadn’t felt before. Yes, the extroverted circus kid had no qualms with showing outward signs of affection, but to have them directed at him from one of the most closed-off individuals he’d ever met was something new.

And he loved it.

Robin sniffed once and nodded, barely trusting himself to speak. But, as he took a shaky breath, he whispered back, his mouth quirking up in his trademark smirk with none of the sassyness… He felt lighter than ever.

“I love you, too, Bruce.”

Batman put his other hand up and squeezed both his shoulders firmly, another show of affection that the young boy loved dearly. Robin couldn’t keep the smile from his face… or the small drop of water that he quickly wiped away before it was noticed (it was). Standing there quietly, he revelled in the moment, feeling more at peace, more connected, and more appreciated than ever before.

At least until police sirens wailed in the distance.

Glancing out to the city they had sworn to protect through an oath of do-gooding and honesty, the Dynamic Duo gave each other a smirk, a nod, and in one swift motion fired off their grapples in search of whatever wrongs needed to be righted… as partners… as friends… 

Batman and Robin.

The Dark Knight and the Boy Wonder.

Father and son…

Chapter Text

********

When Dick Grayson's guardian had tried to convincingly promise him tonight wasn't going to be boring, he hadn't had any idea how accurate the older man would be.

As the thunder roared outside, its nastiness punctuated with flashes of lightning, he sat as still as a statue on the uncomfortable chair, his arms wrapped around his legs as they curled up near his chest. Blue eyes glared dazedly out at the sterilized room, twitching every so often in rhythm with the beeping of the machines next to him. His mind was everywhere and nowhere all at the same time, a stubborn dull headache that refused to ease up as he replayed the traumatic events of the night.

Risking one look over to the occupant in the bed, Dick shivered as ran through the details that led up to his guardian… his second father… fighting for his life.

FLASHBACK, FIVE HOURS AGO:

“Alfred, have you seen my red bow tie?”

“To which red bow tie are you referring, sir? The cherry, the blush, or the scarlet?”

“... The dark red one.”

“There are a variety of dark reds, Master Bruce. You’ll have to be more specific than that.”

“... Could you just pick one out for me then?”

“Already ahead of you, sir.”

The dutiful butler immediately handed over a lovely garnet bow tie to his charge. Bruce Wayne gave him a look as if to say ‘you knew I’d need this exact one, didn’t you?’, to which the older man simply smirked a silent ‘of course I did…’

Alfred Pennyworth was never to be questioned on his proper etiquette or his timing.

Bruce Wayne was slated to depart soon for the evening’s festivities. And by ‘festivities’ he meant the latest charity gala that was to raise funds for the less fortunate. Tonight’s goal was to raise enough money for the Children’s Hospital in Gotham. A noble cause for sure. The hospital was sorely underfunded, which meant Gotham’s most elite and affluent would have no problem sipping on wine and dining on the finest caviar in order to give back to the kiddos.

This time, though, Bruce was not going alone. His ward had been recruited to accompany him to the event. Dick had usually gone to these things as a young child living in the manor, but in the most recent months had been too busy with college classes since he started at the University. Even though he had not quite been enthused to go– his exact words: ‘Seriously? These again? I thought I was done with this!’-- he (reluctantly) agreed.

Later on, after making his guest pickup at Gotham University, Bruce Wayne and Dick Grayson strolled into the extravagantly decorated Museum of Natural History, the host location for the charity event. Dressed in their best formal attire, Bruce with his hand-picked garnet tie and Dick with a canary yellow one, they searched around the room for anyone they could mingle with. Looking over his ward’s flat mouth and emotionless eyes, he smiled as a way to make peace.

“Thanks for coming tonight, Dick. It’s been a while since you’ve been to one of these, you know.” 

Dick gave a respectfully annoyed sigh and nodded, scanning the area for something of interest, “Yeah, I know… For good reason, too.”

Bruce patted his shoulder with a crooked smile, “Don’t worry. Tonight won’t be boring. I promise. You’ll see.”

“You always say that… and yet they still end up being boring.”

Wayne didn’t get to comment anymore because the host of the evening, Mr. Gregory McMaster, redirected everyone’s attention towards the introductions for the event. He announced the major contributors, the biggest financial backers, and declared their monetary goal. Everyone clapped, cheered, and huzzah-ed their way into offering themselves praise for the charitable actions.

Typical.

“Ahhh, Wayne! So good to see you! Oh my goodness, and is this little Richard?”

“Not so little anymore. Your ward looks like a regular gentleman.”

“My my, has he grown. Is he single?”

“When’s his first day at the office, my good man? Slated to take after you some day, is he?”

Dick Grayson sorely wanted to roll his eyes each time some obnoxious and ignorant comment came his way, but he held it in with a tight, grinding smile instead.

Bruce breathed an internal sigh of relief when the latest flirt trap removed herself from his son’s arms. He could tell Dick was uncomfortable with every interaction that either tried to get his number or patronized him like he was still the same little ten-year-old whose cheeks would burn red from so many pinches, so he sympathized with him while trying to make light of the situation.

“So… Having fun?”

Dick’s sarcastic narrowed glare, with the subtle eyebrow raise of irritation, spoke for itself. It was your classic ‘if looks could kill’ moment…

“Don’t worry. We won’t stay too much longer.” Bruce gave a quiet snort.

Little did the billionaire know he was absolutely correct.

“Alright! Everybody freeze!”

“Yeah! Nobody leave!”

Loud questions and murmured hushes of confusion spread throughout the vast ballroom. They were alarmed, but not nearly enough to do anything about it. Bruce and Dick both heard the orders and looked at each other, then around the room trying to find the source of the voices. What was going on? Who shouted that?

When the gunfire erupted towards the ceiling, that was when the real panic took place.

The murmured hushes turned into frantic screams as the guests rushed into motion trying to leave. Many people, including Bruce and Dick, ducked and covered their heads to avoid some ceiling debris falling on them from the high shots.

“I SAID DON’T MOVE!”

Two more gunshots fired from a mystery person. It was enough for the crowd to still themselves and turn towards the intruders standing against the wall space. The four men walked over, guns rotating to take aim on anyone caught doing what they weren’t supposed to do. The intruders looked every bit of Gotham scum, as if the underworld took them in, chewed them up, and spit them out to do its bidding. Or, as Bruce and Dick thought, typical: Greasy hair. Raggedy, tattered, and filthy clothing that didn’t quite fit them. Sunken jaws. A full set of teeth between the four of them. And the junkiest guns they had no business getting their hands on.

“Everybody stay still, ya hear?” shouted the tallest of the quad, his rifle held up high.

A second one, the shortest and fattest, added to the threat, “Yeah! Just give us what we want and we’ll be gone!”

“B-but… What do you want?”

All four men sneered at one of the closest socialites who had the nerve to pipe up. The third criminal didn’t like that. He wound up with the heel of his foot and kicked the man in the stomach, forcing him to stumble back. Baring his teeth in a nasty sneer, the crook readdressed the crowd.

“Any other questions?”

Bruce and Dick were beside themselves… They looked around the room at all the worried faces, cursing their inability to help them right now. Dick took an opportunity to lean over and whisper up to his guardian.

“Do you think we can sneak away?”

The older man took a second to respond, considering their options. “I don’t think so. There’s too many people.”

“Exactly. Too many people to keep an eye on. They won’t notice if just two of them crawl out a window.”

“I know, but–”

“OY! What you two chattin’ about? Didn’t we say no talkin’!?”

Any other normal human being threatened with a gun like that would cower and pee their pants. The young college boy who dealt with these low-lifes on a nightly basis wearing nothing but a grin was not normal. 

Dick innocently played dumb and aloof as best he could, shrugging his shoulders.

“Actually, you said don’t move. You didn’t say we couldn’t talk.”

It was Bruce’s turn to shoot daggers down his nose to his ward’s snarky mouth that didn’t know when to quit. Bad enough he did it in costume where he could fight back; this wasn’t exactly the best moment to be wittingly annoying.

“You wanna say that ag’in?”

“Sorry, can't. You said not to talk, remember?”

The criminal didn’t like the comebacks… Instantly, his rifle aimed at the sassy young adult. A click of a safety went off.

“You wanna die?”

Bruce Wayne did not take that threat lightly. Steely blues refocused back on the criminal as a wave of anger rushed through his veins. No one threatened his boy like that and got away with it. Without hesitation, he moved to put his whole body in front of Dick – who had decided he was done being sarcastic and snarky-–, fully protecting him from the direct line of fire. 

The sleazy villain curled his lips, finding the bodyguard act cute.

“So… You think you’re gonna save Mr. Loudmouth, huh? A’ight… Both of ya this way.” He waved his gun in the direction of the rest of the crowd that had already gathered with their hands over their heads and then back near his partner. “Don’t make me say it ag’in or you'z’ll grow a few more holes you don’t want.”

Dick risked one look up to Bruce, but didn’t get a chance to speak. He saw he was fuming (it might not outwardly show, but the young boy could easily read him); whether it was because of the men with the gun interrupting the party or because of himself for opening his big mouth, he wasn’t sure. All he knew was that they were now in more trouble because he decided to snap back. As they were ushered over, both vigilantes racked their brains for ideas on how to remedy their situation. They placed their hands on their heads, just as everyone else. 

As some time went on, the four men with guns made their rounds through the crowd, picking pockets and gathering precious jewels and money, raiding prized possessions everyone carried on hand.

Dick couldn’t take it anymore. A growl of frustration rose in his throat and took another unnoticed opportunity to speak to Bruce while the men weren’t looking in their direction.

“Look, I can make it out easily. Just through those curtains. I can–”

“I already have a plan.”

Dick blinked at the bold interruption. He frowned, puzzled.

“Wait, what? What plan?”

“Don’t worry about it. Just stay low when it happens.”

“When what happens!? What are you gonna do?”

Bruce did not respond. Dick, exasperated at the lack of information, was starting to grow more upset.

“Bruce, what are you gonna do? You gotta tell–”

“THAT’S IT! I thought I told you two to shut up!”

The two heroes in civvies looked back up and saw a most unwanted face sneering nastily in their direction. To make it worse, he started to walk back over, his gun drawn. The man scoffed.

“You two are really gettin’ on my last nerves.” Then he turned his head and shouted back over to his buddies. “Hey! Roy! Get ovuh here! We gotta a couple o’ smart-aleks that don’t know when to quit!”

‘Roy’, hearing his name, lifted his head. His lips curled, revealing some yellow teeth that hadn’t seen a toothbrush in years. Roy was also the tallest– the first one to bark orders at everyone. Perhaps he was the leader, Dick mused. As he came nearer to the two, both Bruce and Dick could tell that he was not in his right mind. As evidenced by his shaky, twitchy frame, his bloodshot eyes, and his matted hair, he was most assuredly on some kind of drug. In fact, the young college boy noted, they all looked like that. They were all on drugs… Definitely not in their right mind. Drugs, guns, and desperation made for a very dangerous and unpredictable combination…

“So…” Roy spat, “You’z two like to chitter chatter, huh?”

The two black-haired men did not answer… 

Roy didn’t like when people didn’t answer him.

“Ooooh-ho-ho, I get it,” he snapped and took more steps forward, “we got a couple of wise guys. Two rich bozos who think they can get under my skin by acting like idiots…”

“Is it working?”

To Dick’s surprise, those words did not come from his own mouth: they came from Bruce’s. Stunned blue eyes slowly lifted to his father-figure, bewildered that he even said anything. Usually, it was he himself who would pull out the quirky comebacks and sassy insults. This time, it was Bruce.

Roy, again, didn’t like that. His eyes twitched and his meth-mouth snarled even more.

“Excuse me? You think this is funny?!”

“Maybe.”

“What are you doing?!” Dick hushed into Bruce’s back through his gritted teeth.

“Roy said SHUT UP!” The first man barked at the younger, lifting his weapon again.

At this point, Roy’s pale coked-out skin had begun to turn brilliantly red. Steam practically seeped out his ears at how angry he was getting. He lifted his rifle and aimed it at Bruce…. But, before he could order the man to do anything, Roy stopped…

Dick and Bruce could both see the wheels turning in his drug induced brain. They could see the cogs working overtime. An idea was developing. It was pretty much a sure thing Roy had a brilliant plan when his brow softened and his snarl morphed into a devious grin. In fact, when the low chuckle bubbled in his throat, they were all but guaranteed the criminal had a change in plans.

It was even more solid when his beady brown eyes… and the gun… moved from Bruce to Dick.

“Ya know…” Roy went on coolly, confidently. “Gems and jewels and cash are one thing… But you, Wayne, apparently have somethin’ more valuable than that: this kid right here.” Then when he noticed the older man’s eyes widened slightly at the acknowledgement, the criminal’s own grin grew, “Thaaaat’s right, I know who ya are. I know who everybody here is. Ya see, I did my research. I knew how to get in. I knew what kind of loot was gonna be at this thing… What I didn’t know was that you were gonna bring the brat.”

The gun’s safety clicked.

“Now, let’s talk shop… How much you willin’ to pay for the kid to stay alive, huh? Two million? Ten million? All your money? What’s the price, Wayne? What’s the limit on his life?”

The man was lucky Bruce wasn’t in his cape and cowl: he would have been torn to shreds. 

But, as luck wouldn’t have it, Bruce had to remain frozen and stoic to avoid any further distractions while his mind raced to figure it all out. Even Dick was working through all the math in his head on how best to get out of this dangerous situation. Could he run? Could he jump through the window? Could he punch the guy? No. All great plans, for sure, but there would for certain be some casualties around the area. Too many people to avoid. Plus, with half of the muggers’ attention on both of them, it would be even more challenging to do anything.

Suddenly, luck see-sawed. Sirens wailed in the distance.

Someone called 911.

“Crap!” Roy hissed to his minions. “Get the haul and get outta here!”

Just as the three others worked to do just that, Bruce used the distraction to make a move.

With one swift kick, Roy few backwards. Landing rough enough to cause a painful puff of air to escape his lips, the armed mugger groaned. But, he wouldn’t stay down.

To Dick, it all happened so fast… Yet, for as fast as it happened, he would remember every detail.

Roy raised his gun.

Bruce shoved Dick to the floor.

A gunshot sounded.

Bruce yelled.

That was it… There was no pomp and circumstance, no crazy last words, no fanfare or dramatic flair. The gun went off.

And Bruce was hit.

“ BRUUUCE!”

Dick Grayson sprang back to his feet just in time for his father-figure to stumble backwards. Catching the larger, heavier man in his arms, he cradled him and lowered him to the ground as carefully as he could under the pressure of the enormous muscle weight. Amidst the panicking crowd that had decided all at once to rise and run, or the criminals who had chosen to make their exit just as the police showed up, all Dick could focus on was the growing red spot on the man’s torso that matched the color of his garnet bow tie.

“Bruce!?” Dick gasped as he laid him down on the ground, “ BRUCE!? Oh God, NO!”

Bruce Wayne coughed and spit, moaning with obvious discomfort at his injury. He was hit just under the left collarbone, Dick observed. To add to it, the bullet had apparently gone straight through – later to be discovered embedded in the wooden table behind them– when he noticed the blood pooling on the ground under his back.

Dick couldn’t breathe.

“Just, stay with me, okay?” he pleaded, taking off his blazer and pressing it into the wound to pack it down, “Please!”

Wayne gargled and coughed again in between groans of pain. His eyes remained half-slit while Dick’s were as wide as ever as fear gripped his insides. Turning his head, he blinked slowly when he saw the younger man frantically pressing on his wound.

“D… D-dick?”

“It’s gonna be okay, Bruce.” Dick felt a wetness down his cheeks. His heart and his head burned and fogged over,  his breathing strained and stressed, and his whole body shook at the sight of the blood all over that wouldn’t stop coming out of the prone body over his hands, “Y-You’re gonna be okay, okay? Just stay with me, okay?! Just stay with me!” He whimpered and whispered, his voice losing the will to remain steady.

Bruce’s eyes fluttered closed… Dick took that as a bad sign.

“B-Bruce? BRUCE! Oooh, no no no. NO! Don’t do this to me… Please, don’t do this… Wake up! Wake up!!” He shook his head as if to deny a potential dark reality, his breath coming in short manic pants. “I already lost one dad, Bruce, I won’t lose another one!”

At first, Grayson fought the arms that grabbed him, reacting as if it were the gunmen again. But when it registered that they were the police and EMTs, he took a reluctant step back and watched the scene unfold as the First Responders went to work taking care of his father.

When Bruce was loaded into the ambulance, Dick beside him on the spare bench, all the younger man could rationalize was how he royally screwed up…

CURRENT TIME:

The thunder continued to roar outside. Lightning continued to flash. At some point during the night, unawares to everyone at the party, a storm had begun.

However, to the young man sitting hunched over in the visitor’s chair, the storm was a distant non-issue to him. His only concern right now was willing the man in the hospital bed to wake up and be okay again. Even the incessant horde of reporters and tabloids that crowded outside the building and in the front waiting lobby were of no bother to him. After all, anyone attempting to get a glimpse of Gotham’s most elusive bachelor and wealthiest socialite was a typical obstacle they had to endure, but this time the entrepreneur had been admitted to the hospital with a gunshot wound after a hostage situation.

Dick Grayson continued to stare out into the room, absentmindedly scratching at his knee as his legs remained tight against his chest. He hugged his legs tight, his physical form bound tightly together as still as a statute to contrast the insides that somersaulted with stress and anxiety. 

Pure Media Gold, as they would call it.

“Master Dick?”

Blinking away his trance, Dick glanced upwards. Alfred had just walked into the hospital room with two cups of steaming hot tea. Offering one to the younger man, the butler smiled sadly.

Grayson unraveled and dropped his legs, shakily accepting the mug of tea. When he did, he revealed the messy and bloody white unbuttoned shirt, making the older man's heart pull... Dick muttered a mousey ‘thanks’, but Alfred heard it all the same.

“While it is nowhere as tasteful as my own brew, it will do in a pinch. Under these circumstances, beggars can’t be choosers, I admit.”

He thought he saw a twinge of a smirk rise on the boy’s cheeks, but perhaps he just imagined it.

The two of them sat in silence for a short period of time, both lost in their own thoughts as the beeping and buzzing around them worked in a medical symphony. It was an unnerving sound, for sure. Alfred spared a look at the boy’s haunted and deflated gaze.

“Master Bruce is going to be perfectly alright, young sir. You know as well as I do how strong and frustratingly stubborn he can be. After all, this isn't quite the first time I've seen him in this predicament.”

Dick made no move to argue or agree with the attempt at reassurance. All the times Alfred was referring to he hadn't been Bruce… he was Batman . Different story in his opinion. So, he just stared at the floor. But, as he remembered back to the moments that led up to the incident, all he could think about was that it could have easily been avoided… the tremendous guilt that was eating him alive.

“It’s all my fault.”

Alfred paused his sip and sat up straighter at the words. He watched as the young man’s sad blues stared straight ahead, his half finished mug still in his hands. He frowned, confused.

“I beg your pardon, young Master, but whatever do you mean ‘your fault’? Why on Earth would you think that?”

Swallowing a lump in his throat, Dick blinked back the stinging behind his eyes.

“I… I just couldn’t keep my mouth shut.” He admitted with a shaky breath. “I stupidly joked with the gunmen, as usual . Except this time I wasn’t Robin. I was me… We were targeted because of me and my big mouth. And then this happens, and…” his shoulders hunched as a heavy weight settled on his back, “It’s just all my fault…”

Alfred Pennyworth listened with a heavy heart as the boy blamed himself. Between the agitation in his hands that could shatter or drop the mug at any second, the slight trembling in his lips, the staccato breathing that wasn’t just quite right, he knew Dick was tearing himself up inside. However, while he knew that he had no idea what had happened tonight save for the fact that Mr. Wayne was shot, he knew it did not have anything to do with Dick being the reason.

That being said, his words brought back the memories of just a few months ago… The night Robin was infected with the Scarecrow toxin that sent him on a whirlwind of emotions, culminating in the young man blaming himself for everything bad in his life to the point where he wanted to take his own.

Alfred knew he couldn’t allow him to think this way.

He took a deep breath and squared his shoulders, preparing to do what his oldest charge had vehemently told him not to do.

“Master Dick, has he confided in you the events that transpired all those months ago while you were under the influence of the Scarecrow’s toxin?”

As his question sunk in, Dick curiously lifted his head towards the butler. Blinking away the surprise of him even mentioning it, he furrowed his brows and shook his head.

“No… He won’t talk to me about it. I kinda just gave up asking, too.”

Alfred nodded and emptied his lungs slowly. Closing his eyes, he internalized his feelings and chose his words very carefully…

“Richard… What I am about to tell might be difficult and alarming to hear, so please bear with this old man… While you were under the influence of the toxin,” Alfred spoke deliberately, making sure he had the boy’s attention, “you had exhibited a wide array of… emotional episodes.”

“Emotional… episodes? What does that mean?”

“At first, when the symptoms started to manifest, you were simply afraid. As is stereotypical of the villain’s drug, we had deduced you were indeed infected, which meant Batman could manufacture an antidote easily. However, riddled with fear of myself and Master Bruce, you took off running away from us; you, if not for him seizing a hold of you in the final second, would have careened over the cliff’s edge…”

This, Dick had no idea of… He lit up and sat up straighter, his mouth dropping slightly.

“Wait… Seriously?”

Alfred went on…

“Next, after a decent amount of time spent unconscious, you awoke again. This time, in contrast, you were not fearful. You were angry. Unnaturally loathsome, I must sadly admit. However, while I know your words were not from your heart but rather an abnormal and unfortunate side effect of the toxin, Master Bruce internalized everything personally and, even though he would never confess as much, stewed on it for quite some time.”

“My words? I don't understand. What did I say?”

The older gentleman paused and caught Dick’s seeking gaze. He cleared his throat and pressed on, a soft empathetic expression in his tone.

“You had taken to blaming him for not caring. For not ever being there for you. In fact, you had gone so far as to accuse him of responsibility for your parents’ deaths.”

Dick couldn’t believe it. Aghast at the reality, he nearly sloshed his drink on the floor as he protested.

“You gotta be kidding me! That’s ridiculous! Alfred, how the heck could I blame him for that!? It wasn’t his fault at all!”

Pennyworth nodded, knowing deep down it was true. In the moment, though, it was difficult to hear the words. Pausing his story, he took a sip of his tea – doing his best not to make a face at how bland and bitter it was compared to his own– and considered not even going on. Fear and anger were one thing, but the rest of the story was utterly depressing. 

Dick didn’t give him a chance to stop. He wanted to hear more. Needed to hear more.

“Alfred… What else happened?”

The butler glanced up and caught Dick’s puppy dog eyes that searched for the truth. The young man was smart. He knew something else had happened. Deep down, Dick knew there was a reason Batman had that talk with Robin a few nights after, and it wasn't just because he was afraid or mad. So far, everything Alfred said wasn’t explaining it completely. There was a missing piece to the puzzle. 

While Alfred didn’t want to mention that part, he was already in it. He just hoped that Bruce wouldn’t be furious with him for giving the young boy the information he needed to hear. He inhaled slowly, put down his mug, and held his charge’s gaze steadfast.

“You attempted to take your own life.”

Whatever he had expected Alfred to say, that was most certainly not it.

Dick froze for a second, staring at the man’s solemn brow. He blinked twice, gaped a few times when words failed him, and shook the stunned cobwebs away.

“W-what?”

Alfred nodded and went into more detail, his expression aging him terribly as he recalled the tormentus moments.

“Master Bruce had just finished curating an antidote that had frustratingly taken quite a while due to the toxin’s ability to remain undetected in tests. However, before he could administer it, you had disappeared from the med bay bed once more. We searched high and low for you, sir, feverishly… until he found you… standing high above a rocky abyss on nothing but a small sliver of a rock bridge…”

Dick couldn’t look away from the haunted elderly gentlemen as he quietly recalled the night.

“He urged and pleaded with you to come back to safety, but you refused. Master Dick…” Alfred looked up to the boy, un-shed tears threatening to fall. “You said you didn’t deserve to live.”

Dick’s eyes widened even more. He didn’t know what to say…

“Repeatedly, you called yourself a failure, a screw up, useless, and that you didn’t deserve to live. Master Bruce begged with you to come back… Until eventually you tried to step off the edge. By sheer willpower and determination… and love… that man grabbed you and pulled you to safety as quick as he could, then struggled to keep you safe as you relentlessly fought and battled to continue your toxin-induced mission. Moments later, after I injected you with the antidote, you returned to unconsciousness. When you awoke, you had no recollection of what had happened…”

It all made sense. Dick Grayson’s heart had since crawled up his throat and practically choked the shock out of him. He gulped and rewet his mouth that had since gone dry and shifted his stunned gaze at the floor. He had no idea what had happened, but it all made sense now…

Failure

Screw up

Useless

“So… that’s why he had that talk with me on the rooftop…” Dick mumbled and blinked away the water from his eyes that clouded his dizzying vision.

Alfred nodded, knowing about the conversation. Granted, he technically didn’t hear the exact words that were spoken, but he knew both his boys and knew that something positive came out of that patrol based on their interactions after they returned to the cave. They were more relaxed than before. 

“The reason I am telling you this is because you have a natural knack for blaming yourself, Master Dick. Your insane ability to acquire the guilt of everyone else’s mishaps and mistakes is only matched by that man lying there beside you… a trait I fear you might have picked up along the way of living in the Manor.” Alfred smiled fondly. “My dear boy, mistakes will happen, but how we learn from them makes us human.”

Where have I heard that before , Dick connected the dots, knowing that the man before him practically raised the man in the bed. It would only make sense for Bruce to mimic Alfred’s words. It was a great lesson to learn…

“What occurred tonight was not your fault. Those vicious hooligans are to blame. They were the ones who trespassed on private property with firearms and the intent to harm for their own gains. They were the ones who used fear to threaten a loss of life in exchange for money. They are to blame. Not you. And I know that when Master Bruce awakens, he will not blame you, either.” Alfred placed his hand on Dick’s, squeezing it tightly. He offered a kind grin and spoke in warm, soft tones. “We both love you, my dear boy, very much. Do not ever forget that. Horrible things happen in life, but the last thing either of us want for you is to be encumbered with guilt for actions that are not by your hand. Do you understand?”

Dick didn’t know what to say. He knew Alfred and Bruce loved him, but hearing them both say it out loud was something he didn’t know he needed to hear: mostly because he didn’t know if he was ever going to hear it. And in so many months, he heard it from both of them. While he had grown to consider Bruce as a father-figure, Alfred was most certainly a grandfather to him. The young man pursed his now trembling lips and wiped away a tear, and mimicked the butler’s kind smile as much as he could without losing it. Sniffling, he nodded: it was all he could do because his voice would fail him.

Pennyworth patted the boy’s hand, giving him a kind and loving wink. Then, he stood up and took Dick’s mug from his hand with a heavy, disappointed exhale.

“Now, I do believe we have suffered through this so-called ‘tea’ long enough. I shall return with a more suitable and proper beverage from my own private stash, don’t you worry.”

Just like that, he dumped the leaf water in the nearby sink, gathered his coat, smirked at the young lad, and took his proper leave… Dick could only chuckle at the older man’s quick quip.

****

The first thing Bruce Wayne was aware of was the throbbing in his shoulder and the pulsing all over his skull. A regular mystery episode of ‘how the heck did I get in this situation’ for the Caped Crusader who was no newbie to waking up with some kind of ache or ailment. However, when he opened his blues and blinked against the surprising dimness of the room that still stabbed behind his eyes, he had rationalized enough that he was not back at home. There was a warm lamp lit on the table next to him and curtains that were not his adorned the window. He was neither in his Manor bedroom nor in the Batcave.

I’m in a hospital? Great…

“Nnngghh…”

“Master Bruce? Welcome back. How are you feeling, my dear boy?”

At the soft elderly voice that broke through his painful stupor, he recognized Alfred’s voice. Bruce pinched his brow and attempted to make sense of his predicament. He was for sure in a hospital room, that much he had gathered when he glanced around and saw the machinery hooked up and beeping away. What he wasn’t sure about was how he even got here. But, as he looked left and focused in on his butler’s concerned brow and open-ended question, he tried to force his cotton mouth to form a question.

“Uuuugghh… A-Alfred? Wh-what… What happened?”

Alfred smiled, albeit sadly, “You were attending the charity event for the Children’s Hospital tonight. Or rather last night, to be more precise, according to the current dawn hour. There was… an incident .”

Wayne again racked his brain for any memory of the event. He listened to Alfred’s words, struggling to make sense of them. But, when he heard the word ‘incident’, he immediately remembered. Eyes widening as much as they could against the severe headache, he gasped and stared up at his butler, suddenly very alarmed and concerned. 

“Dick! Wh-where’s Dick? Is he… Is he okay?”

Mr. Pennyworth lifted his brow and nudged his head over to the side, a fond grin twitching ever so slightly on his cheeks. When Bruce slowly turned his head to avoid any new throbbing in his skull, his tired eyes refocused on a figure that was awkwardly curled up sideways in the nearby visitor’s chair. Black hair mussed, mouth half open, legs draped crookedly over the elbow rest, arms bent awkwardly across his lap, his head propped up against the wall at an angle that would leave any neck sore for days…

… and the dried dark garnet stains all over his wrinkled and half-buttoned white polo.

Bruce watched as Dick dozed, half amazed how he was able to sleep so soundly twisted up like that, but eternally grateful and thankful that he seemed to be okay. The blood stains, however, alarmed him; questioning, concerned eyes flickered back to his own father-figure, who returned a reassuring gaze.

“He’s quite alright, I assure you. Worried to the high heavens about you , but he is unharmed.”

That was the news he was waiting to hear… Visibly relaxing, Bruce allowed his eyes to close as he steadied his breath. He swallowed a lump in his throat and whispered a quiet ‘good’ under his breath.

“Bruce… He blames himself…”

Alfred’s words registered in the billionaire’s brain. He cracked his bloodshot eyes back open and gazed up at the somber and serious expression of his butler’s. Bruce knew his pointed look. It was direct and hooded, driving home a message with minimal words… and he understood. More to the point, the last thing either of them wanted was for Dick to go down another dark hole of suffering a guilt trip for something that wasn’t his fault… especially something like his father-figure being shot by some homicidal money-hungry two-bit nobody madman.

Bruce groaned and shut his eyes again, imagining the conversation he was about to have with his boy.

As if on cue, however, the contorted circus star moaned and stretched as he stirred in his slumber with subtle aching moans of discomfort. The muffled words around him infiltrated his unconsciousness, bringing him back to the land of the awake. Reactionary, he lifted his lids to reveal bleary and exhausted eyes. Dick blinked away the sleep from his blues and smacked his lips… but froze when he saw two sets of eyes looking over at him. And even though it took him a couple seconds to register that the man in the bed was awake, it only took him half a second to react once he did.

“Bruce!”

Dick bolted up with renewed energy and stood by the bed immediately, gaping and shooting out questions left and right.

“Oh my gosh, y-you’re awake! H-how do you feel? Are you okay? A-are you feeling okay? How are you? I-I mean… I just…”

If Bruce was more alert, he would laugh at the boy jumbling over his words. Clearly Dick was just as excited as he was to be awake, which warmed the injured man’s heart. He was even more happy to see Dick was indeed not injured, which made him visibly relaxed enough to put a soft whisper of a smile on his cheeks.

“I’m… fine…”

“Man, Bruce, you scared me to death.” Dick exhaled in a humorous scoff, the stress of the prior several hours leaving his body now that he could have a full conversation with his father-figure. “I just… I-I thought…”

Wayne watched as he trailed off, an anxiety-filled puff escaping his lips. He watched as Dick wrangled with his emotions and tried to collect himself: clearing his throat, scratching the back of his neck, dragging his eyes to the bandage patch. 

He couldn’t take it anymore.

“It’s not… your fault, Dick.”

Grayson lifted wary eyes, apprehensively gazing into the deep tired blues before him. He swallowed the lump in his throat and bit his lip, not agreeing with the sentiment. Dejectedly he shook his head and lowered himself down gently on the bed next to Bruce.

“But–”

“No…” Bruce meekly shook his head amidst his growing headache, denying his ward of any argument, “Y-you… did not… do this… They did…”

“But I couldn’t keep my mouth shut. I kept annoying them… as usual…”

This time, Wayne gave a snorting chuckle; weak, but deliberate. He raised an eyebrow and countered that comment.

“So… did I…”

“We were targeted because of me, though.”

“Y-you kept their attention… away f-from others…”

Now that was something the Boy Wonder hadn’t considered. While shouldering the guilt for having himself and his guardian targeted, he hadn’t been aware that he inadvertently diverted their attention away from the other guests. Pinching his brow, he thought back to it and let the notion linger… and it was true. While he and Bruce were being singled out by Roy and his partner, the other two were spread thin between the other hundred or so guests. Not easy odds on their part. And the only one that had been injured was Bruce Wayne. To the Dynamic Duo who were sworn to protect innocent lives, that was a risk he knew both of them were willing to take.

Slowly, as the reality dawned on him that Bruce made a good point, Dick raised his eyes to meet his father-figure’s face. A face that had softened and offered a comforting smile.

“You s-saved… their lives, Dick…” He reached over with his shaky, weak hand and patted the young man’s. “Y-you did good… Proud of you.”

Alfred beamed at his two charges – his son and his grandson. A warmth spread through his chest as he watched them interact. The younger boy surreptitiously wiped away the wetness from his cheeks and grinned back. While they were far from the perfection of training Richard from burdening himself with things beyond his control, they knew that each time they reminded him he was a good person would be a win in their eyes. And each time Bruce opened up about his feelings without feeling like he required an immediate retreat into the shadows to recover, the world could be a better place.

“Told you t’night wasn’t…. gonn’be boring, didn’t I?”

Dick quirked his eyebrows and stared at the man. Upon seeing a twinkle in the older man’s eyes, all he could do was groan and shake his head, giving a humored chuckle at the ironic twist in their plans for the night: a humored chuckle that released all pent up nervous energy.

“Man, you’re a piece of work, you know that?”

Bruce began to snicker, even weakly, then nudged at the former acrobat who had a knack for routinely getting on every bad guy’s nerves with just a few sarcastic snappy comments.

“Learned from… the best”

They enjoyed a good laugh at that, even if one did lose his breath quite easily. For Alfred, Bruce, and Dick, things were looking up in their favor.

“Now that that’s settled, I recommend a spot of some delicious ginger and turmeric tea to soothe those aches of yours.”

“... Wait a minute… Alfred, did you bring your entire tea set to the hospital while I was sleeping?!”

“Certainly not, Master Dick. There are far too many pieces for that to be possible… This is my travel set.”

Chapter Text

***********************

“Alright, Dick. The first lesson in self-defense is to anticipate your opponent's actions and to be able to react accordingly. Now, watch my movements and react.”

“Okay, I got this.”

Bruce Wayne slowly moved around, circling the smaller boy on the mat down in the Batcave's sparring area. Just as he moved into his first faux punch, the expected reaction didn’t quite land. Instead, the little acrobat before him flipped to avoid. Not backwards and away from harm, but straight over his guardian. Dick Grayson flew and twisted, soaring directly over Bruce’s head, and landed perfectly crouched behind him.

The taller man spun, perplexed by the movements. He blinked and furrowed his brows, confused.

“Um, no, that’s not what you’re supposed to do.”

“But you said it yourself.” Dick stood up and grinned innocently, “Anticipate the actions and react. I saw you were gonna punch and so I reacted.”

Bruce blinked again at the ease to which the boy countered his argument.

“Yes, but, that’s not…” He cleared his throat and refocused his efforts, “It's okay, let’s just try it again. Watch my movements and react the way you’re supposed to. The way I taught you to. Ready?”

“Got it, boss!”

Just as the next one charged, this time a kick, the young apprentice did react. Only, not in the way the master had planned. Dick once again redirected his body away from the foot, but this time he ducked and rolled under and in between Bruce’s legs, sliding to freedom behind the man. Rising to a fighting stance, the young boy giddily prepared himself for more.

And once again, Bruce was puzzled. He exhaled and turned around.

“Dick, you can’t just flip and duck like that in the heat of a battle.”

“Why not?” The boy put his hands on his hips, “You said to use our strengths to our advantage and use their weaknesses against them, right?”

“...... Yes, I did, but–”

“And my strength is this!” He beamed proudly, toppling over into a handstand and donning a big smile, “I can just fly over the bad guys! Especially the ones who aren’t really light on their feet. Like you.”

Bruce pinched the bridge of his nose. Truly he found the exuberance a bit adorable, but this was a serious matter if Dick didn’t learn the basic skills of hand to hand combat. This was necessary. He even ignored the comment about his own self not being light on his feet… for now.

“Look, you need to learn how to stand your ground.”

“And you need to learn how to go with the flow.” Dick began walking on his hands like they were his second set of feet.

Just a short week ago, after over half a year of living in the Manor, young Richard Grayson had inadvertently stumbled on perhaps one of the greatest secrets he could ever discover: the identity of Batman. And, seeing as how he was actually living with the very man who put on the cowl each and every night and beat criminals to a pulp before locking them up, the boy had been put into the dire situation of needing to maintain that secret.

Or convince Bruce to let him be his partner.

“Listen, while I appreciate your natural athleticism, you do need to learn these self-defense skills I’m trying to teach you. It could be life or death out there. You can’t just flip over the criminals and villains each and every time. You might not always get that chance.”

“But, if I use the situation to my advantage, they won’t even see me coming!” Then Dick frowned as he hadn’t considered this thought regarding his guardian. He returned to his proper footing and stood straight, “You mean you don’t flip and jump like that?”

Wayne snorted and raised an eyebrow down to the curious boy, “As a matter of fact, I don’t. While I do have those skills, it’s not exactly my preferred method of… interaction.”

Dick considered his words. Furrowing his brow, he pinched his chin, “So…. What skills do you know?”

“Excuse me?”

“Gymnastics. Acrobatics. What do you know?”

Bruce, nonplussed, debated answering. He stammered and stood up straighter and dropped his hands, “Well… I…”

“You don’t know much, do you?”

“Yes, I do. I just choose not to use them unless absolutely necessary.”

Silence filled the air for a moment as both men considered the other… But then–

“That’s it! I got it!” Dick Grayson cackled, clapping his hands, “If we’re really going to be partners, we need to have each other’s backs, right?”

“Right. That’s the whole point of–”

“Which means not only anticipating the bad guys’ movements but each other’s, right?”

“..... Right.”

“Sooooooo… I’ll make you a deal, Mister Batman.” Dick walked forward, a gleam of enthusiastic challenge in his blues, “I’ll teach you everything I know about acrobatics and gymnastics, right? I mean, it'll take years to get it all, to be honest, but anyway... yeah... And theeeeenn, in turn, I’ll learn everything you know about self-defense! I’ll show you the proper way to fly and flip, and you show me the best way to not be punched in the face! Then Batman and Robin would be unstoppable! A dynamic duo for the ages! Deal?”

The little hand that struck out with such force, only matched by the brilliant cheesy grin upon his face, took Bruce aback half a second. He stared at the little boy, curious and puzzled and… intrigued.

“Let me get this straight…” Bruce tried to understand. “ You want to teach me ?”

“Yup!”

“And when you’re done, you’ll focus and pay attention to the proper techniques of self-defense, actually putting in the time and effort to do it right?”

“You got it!”

Bruce Wayne had spent a considerable amount of his life preparing and planning for nearly every bump in the road. Years of contingency after contingency, second plans, Plan C, the backdoor option… Becoming Batman had trained his mind to act accordingly to every twist and turn and every monkey wrench in the best laid plans to ensure success.

But he had not prepared for the smallest little pipsqueak to discover his secret and within one week try to one-up him in his own training sessions.

However, after he mulled it over for a few seconds, and upon seeing the crooked smirk on Dick’s face growing even wider, Bruce actually smiled and accepted the challenge. He shook the boy’s hand and nodded.

“Alright, Robin , you have yourself a deal.”

“Really?!”

“Really.”

“Heck yea !!” Dick somersaulted backwards and launched himself into a flying flip kick. He pumped the air and hollered again, excited and overjoyed. 

However, in a heartbeat’s switch-up, Bruce watched as the joyful boy collected himself and shifted gears. His ‘kid in a candy store’ grin fell and was replaced with a stone cold seriousness that would make Batman proud. Dick stood straighter and faced his guardian, his chin jutting out properly and his eyes void of the mirth he just displayed.

‘Coach’ Grayson stood before him and tapped his foot against the floor mat, studying his new apprentice dutifully with a judgmental glare. He huffed and crossed his arms.

Bruce stood tall, his own posture matching that of his ward’s. He raised an eyebrow down to the shorter boy without a word, silently expecting him to continue. Dick was in his element, that much he figured. The rambunctious acrobat that lit up every room like a thousand watt bulb immediately shifted into an unexpected authority figure the moment he sealed the deal. Now, a look of confidence crossed the boy’s features as he turned up to Bruce.

“Alright. First lesson. A round-off.”

The billionaire blinked at the simple request. A round off? Really? He smiled kindly so as to not insult the smaller boy.

“Dick, I know how to do a round-off.”

The boy quirked an eyebrow at the remark, but did not smile.

“Okay, smarty pants. Round-off into a back handspring.”

“Back handspri–” Bruce mumbled with surprise at the doubled dare. A round-off was a simple request, for sure, but Dick had made it very obvious that he meant business when he added in the extra handspring at the end. He cleared his throat and shook off the absolutely odd comment and prepared to do the easy moves. “Okay… I can do this.”

Bruce launched himself into position, his hands smacking the mat with force as he propelled both feet over his head into a round-off maneuver. When his feet landed together, he flung his arms back over his head to complete the back handspring. Satisfied with the completion of the task, he stood up and puffed out his chest dramatically, ready to take the win.

“Nope. All wrong. Do it again.”

What?

The Dark Knight, Caped Crusader, scourge of the underworld, the stuff of villain’s nightmares, was just told he did an amateur round-off move the wrong way.

“Excuse me?”

Dick shook his head and tutted his boss, “Your knees weren’t together and your feet were crooked. Besides, your arms were too wide into the back handspring. You’re gonna catch them on a wire or something. Do it again.”

Bruce couldn’t believe his ears. The former circus star stood there and waited, his face void of all joy from earlier and replaced with deadpan authority.

The billionaire started to feel something very uncomfortable swirl in his mind. He was Batman. He was the Night. He had traveled the world and trained with multiple masters and professionals in various ways of martial arts and meditation. It took years to acquire those skills. He was supposed to be the best. He was supposed to be the teacher. This? This was something he wasn’t prepared for!

And yet, it was slowly dawning on him that his young protege, who also had traveled the world since he was a baby and performed death defying stunts for many years (maybe even longer than Bruce had, by comparison) might actually have something to teach him after all… which ticked him off. 

He narrowed his eyes, faced the mat, and completed the round-off and back handspring again.

“Nope.”

“What?”

“Your shoulders weren’t square. You landed lopsided.”

“I did not!”

“And your eyes weren’t looking straight.”

“My… eyes?”

Dick sighed, shaking his head… like a disappointed coach deciding to just move on.

“Bruce, if your eyes aren’t focused on where you’re supposed to go, your body won’t follow orders. You can’t look to the left and expect to move right. This isn’t a quarterback pump-fake, it’s simple acrobatics. Here’s how it’s really done. Watch and learn, okay?”

“.................”

The former circus star proceeded to demonstrate the proper techniques, naturally going into the correct positions of a true round-off and finishing it off with expertly practiced back handspring as if he could do it in his sleep. The arms, the knees, the feet… the eyes… Perfection. When Dick stood back up, he gestured again to the mat to wordlessly encourage his apprentice to try again.

Bruce, starting to feel a bit duped into the whole thing, snorted and did it again. This time, when he landed, he stood back up and sought out an unexpected approval of the boy he was supposed to be training in his area. Instead, he was met with a considerable pause from Dick as puckered his lips and deliberated how to critique appropriately.

“Man, you really don’t know how to do this, don’t you?”

“What?!”

“You’re too stiff.” Dick acknowledged matter of factly, shaking his head, “It’s like watching a walrus try to climb up a slide. Just… all flippers, ya know I mean?”

“.... Walrus?!”

“It’s okay, Bruce, you’ll get it eventually. I have faith in you. I mean,” Dick snorted and gave a quirky grin, shrugging his shoulders, “It’s not like you’re going to be a gymnastics prodigy overnight, amiright?”

Bruce could only stare… He swallowed a lump that settled in his throat and puffed up his feathers, slightly offended that he wasn't doing as well as he imagined he would, “Um… No, I guess not, but–”

“Hey, I know!” Dick had an idea, pointing his finger in the air, “Think of it this way: acrobatics is like a dance. Although,” he reconsidered thoughtfully to himself under his breath, “maybe that’s why you’re so bad at it.”

“Bad?”

“Uhh, yeah.” The boy sassed back like it was the most obvious thing. “You’re not going with the flow. And gymnastics is like dancing but with flips. It’s all about the flow. And rhythm. You’re treating this like an interrogation where you gotta beat the moves to a pulp.” Then he smiled coyly, “You told me fencing is about finesse, not strength. Same for this! You gotta roll with it and allow your body to move fluidly, not like some clunky robot who only moves in two directions.”

As Dick spoke, he demonstrated his body moving in tune with the ‘flow’, twisting and pirouetting and spinning, finishing off in a one-handed ‘star’ shape like it was the easiest thing in the world. He moved with perfection, with grace, and agility. His beaming upside down smile directed up to his boss to add to his point.

“See?”

Bruce was as dumbfounded as he was in awe. This little nine-year-old boy, only in his life for six-ish months, had turned a 180 from the shy shell of grief and uncertainty into the bubbly and energetic never-ending battery, but the natural-born empathetic coach – no, leader – caught Bruce off guard. Collecting himself, he shook off the stunned unexpected turn of events and chuckled.

“Yes, I see.”

“Okay then,” Dick re-righted his body and gestured to the mat encouragingly, “Try it again.”

The Caped Crusader squared his shoulders again, staring down the challenge in his mind. He prepared his body and launched into a series of movements he hoped would make the young coach proud. Finishing off his round-off into a back handspring the best he could, he stood and waited for the anticipated congratulations and prai–

“Nope. Again.”

“You gotta be kidding me!”

****************

Dick Grayson stood boldly, hands on his hips, glaring up at the uneven bars like some daring obstacle he couldn’t wait to tackle. However, the obstacle wasn’t for him: he grinned widely and spun back to his guardian.

“Next up, the uneven bars.”

Bruce stared at the apparatus as if it secretly taunted him. He and Alfred had installed several pieces of machinery and equipment over the past few months to satisfy the natural athletic itch of the young addition to their family months ago. The uneven bars were something, he admitted, he had never thought of using, despite Dick taking to them like he was born on them. The boy had admitted that even though he was a trapeze artist at heart, he had learned to manipulate just about every piece of gymnastics equipment there was… and excel.

“Wait a minute...” Bruce cleared his throat and pointed calmly to the two bars, “Why these?”

“Easy!” Dick clapped and rubbed his hands together, stepping beside the equipment, “You’re Batman, right? And Batman swings from railings and light posts and rooftops and cables, right? Well, this is here to teach you to do that!”

Bruce blinked, once again confused.

“Umm… Dick, I’ve been Batman for years. I already know how to do that.”

“True, but not to my satisfaction.”

This time, the older man couldn’t help a twinge of amusement that crept into his heart. Giving a slightly sarcastic snort to his chuckle, he quirked an eyebrow down to the boy.

“Is that so?”

Dick huffed and crossed his arms, a bit put out, “It is so. Now, go my young apprentice! Go! Swing! Swiiiinng! Mwahahaha!”, he stopped himself cold and cleared his throat, returning to his appropriate stance, “I mean, please proceed.”

It took everything in Bruce to not laugh out loud; in fact, he had to bite his cheeks to hold in his smile. Apprentice? Dick really was running away with the idea of teaching the Dark Knight a thing or ten about his acrobatic craft. Still, Bruce humored him and prepared himself for the next task. He approached the bars and stared them down. It took him a good half hour to get a round-off into a back handspring correctly, according to his ‘teacher’s’ expectations… or at least until Dick decided enough was enough. This shouldn’t be a problem.

Or so he thought.

“Before you start, just remember two things, Bruce.” Dick held up his fingers to count, “One, allow your body to flow through the movements. And two, don’t get stuck. I don’t wanna have to call the fire department to get you down.”

That did it… Bruce glared back at the boy, but was only met with a cool innocent grin of someone who wasn’t phased one bit. Even the added irritated growl did nothing but earn him two taunting thumbs up. Rolling his eyes, the billionaire vigilante sighed and moved into position. Grabbing the lower bar, he prepared his body for the routine.

Gaining momentum in the first swings, Bruce allowed his body to lift up into the higher one. At least, that was the plan. Instead, his legs kicked out too soon and clumsily attached to the bar in a way that made his hands flounder for a good grip as he arched his body in a way he wasn’t used to. Even though he found a way to maintain a few solid connections, his movements and twists were not smooth in any capacity, causing him to twirl and kip back to the lower one awkwardly.

The result? Bruce landed flat on his back with a loud oomph.

Stunned at his failure, the older man laid on the mat for a few seconds, trying to figure out what the heck went wrong. He frowned deeply at himself, but as he pushed off the mat and sat up, what he saw made it all the worse.

Dick stood by, arms crossed, a narrowed gaze, and pursed lips of frustration.

“You know,” Bruce grunted, standing up, “You could be a little less condescending.”

“And you could be a little more better.”

Wayne lifted an eyebrow at the horrible word usage, “Excuse me?”

“Do it again.”

Bruce did… He lasted a bit longer the next time, but he was still as awkward as a horse trying to hula hoop.

“Again.”

Same thing…

Dick rolled his eyes and grunted, slouching dramatically, sorely exasperated by the lack of success. It was obvious he was losing his patience. Straightening himself up, he moved over to the bars and practically shoved his mentor out of the way.

“Fine… I’ll show you how it’s done.”

Through pure instinct and muscle memory, Dick Grayson took to the uneven bars like a monkey flying through the trees. Lifting himself up, he launched himself into a rhythmic routine that only came from years of practice, his arms and legs moving in sync to create a peaceful and fluid motion as he moved from the lower bar to the upper bar and back again. His body twisted and flipped gracefully, his posture a picture of perfection. When he completed the routine, he propelled his body outwards into a triple forward tuck to land effortlessly like a feather on the mat.

Bruce was impressed. Not one slip up. Not one falter. It was precise. On point. Not a smidgeon of anything out of place.

Dick stood up and exhaled with finality, then turned to his mentor, whose mouth was actually agape, and gestured to the bars.

“That’s how you do it.”

Bruce blinked and closed his mouth, shaking off the stunned surprise of seeing the acrobat perform the task with the utmost of ease. However, just as he thought he could muster the courage to try again from the miniature flying fox, he heard a noise off to the side near the computer console. A noise that sounded like someone was choking or coughing.

Turning around, he saw Alfred.

Narrowing his eyes to his butler who stood by calmly, Bruce questioned darkly, “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you, Alfred?”

Mr. Pennyworth tutted against the accusation and continued his dusting regimen with a proper air of poise, “Master Bruce, whatever do you mean? I am simply tending to my duties of trying to keep this drafty old cave somewhat livable. Nothing more, nothing less.”

Oh yeah, Bruce reasoned as he glared even harder, he found this hilarious.

“Come on, Bruce, don’t be too hard on yourself.” Dick tried to help out, donning a big smile once more like the little ornery cherub he was. “When I was four, it took me a month to get a good routine going. I’m sure that with lots and lots and lots and lots of practice you can get it by next year.”

This time, Alfred’s snort of amusement could not be ignored.

*****

Needless to say, the uneven bars didn’t bode well for the World’s Greatest Detective. After a humiliating defeat from the athletic equipment, Bruce was beyond ready to just move on. So he allowed Dick to guide him over to the next venture in their journey: the balance beam.

“Alright, Bruce, now we’re ready to work on your balance.”

Wayne raised another dubious eyebrow down to the young sprite as they stopped by the long beam. He sighed and deadpanned, “Dick, I already know how to balance.”

This time, instead of receiving a stern glare or harsh warning or even a curt reminder, a sly smirk rose on the boy’s face. Dick chuckled and shook his head to argue.

“True, but not while I’m on your shoulders.”

Bruce blinked as Dick cracked his knuckles and bounced on his feet, very obviously excited about this next training session, “While you’re what?”

“While I’m on your shoulders! Think about it, we’re partners right? We have to move together, right? So when you move, I move!”

“You… want me to balance while you’re standing on my shoulders?”

“Yes!” The playful glint in his blues unmistakable, “We have to anticipate each other’s movements and go with the flow, see? Like a stealthy ninja! Or a squirrel ninja! Precise and sneaky! Like that!”

Bruce blinked at the smaller boy who had no problem demonstrating such moves as he kicked and darted and flung himself around like the ‘stealthy ninja’ he claimed to be. When Dick finally settled and beamed up to him, Bruce couldn’t help but feel a pull of something akin to fondness in his chest. Absurd as the situation was, maybe Dick was on to something.

“Ooookay… We’ll try it.”

“Alright! To the bat-beam!”

“To the… what?”

“Oh, come on, you've never called it that?”

"Never."

"You're no fun..."

A lump of uncertainty spread throughout Bruce’s gut as he glanced down to the jittery boy next to him, clearly giddy for what they were going to attempt. He sighed and climbed into place onto the ‘bat-beam’, as Dick had dubbed it. Balancing on his two feet, he felt quiet comfortable and stable.

However, the very moment Dick launched himself onto his shoulders without warning made Bruce lose his balance immediately, lurching forward awkwardly as his arms jutted out for hopeless support.

“Dick!”

“Expect the unexpected, Batman!”

“But this is–”

“If you can balance with me on your shoulders, you’ll be ready for anything. So listen,” Dick cleared his throat and focused, “You’ll have to adjust your core to my weight, my movements, any shift in pressure, all of it. I used to balance on a basketball at the circus with two monkeys on my back. Literally… And do you have any idea how unpredictable monkeys are?!”

Bruce exhaled heavily again, slightly wobbling as the boy’s added weight threw off his equilibrium.

“Now,” Dick pointed and beamed to the rest of the narrow path ahead of them, “Onward!”

Slowly, the older man took a cautious step forward. His arms still stayed out at his sides for added stability, doing their best to shake minimally at the added pressure on his shoulders. Bruce strained and began to sweat, a clear sign of stress he wasn’t expecting. Dick’s small feet remained steadfast near his ears, the boy never once shifting or shaking or trembling as if he’d been born a natural.

He was.

Then… Dick grinned widely and lifted his left foot straight out to his left.

“What the–” Bruce exclaimed sharply at the instant shakeup. He grappled with a shift in balance and waved his arms, arching his core to remain on the beam. It took a decent struggle, but he made it back to his figurative center, even if he had to stick out his right leg to do it.

“See? I move, you move.”

“This is insane!”

“Aw, come on, where’s your sense of adventure? Besides, I’m a kid! I’m as light as a feather!”

“You’re a nine-year-old acrobat, Dick; light as a feather is not how I’d describe you.”

Dick cackled, “I’m a professional. And you said you’re the one who could balance!”

“.......”

The younger boy grinned ear to ear at the no-response, figuring he’d won the battle, and returned his left foot to Bruce’s shoulders, allowing the older man to shimmy back into place with minimal struggle. The billionaire groaned again, unsteadily taking one step forward, then another, and another. Slowly but surely, each movement felt like some kind of progress. Dick would shift, Bruce would adjust. Dick would bend, Bruce would bow. He'd add pressure to his shoulder, crouch slightly, arms straight forward, leg back, all of it. The Dark Knight needed to make it work.

“Don’t think about your movements, just feel them. If you think about it, you’re already off balance.”

Bruce had to admit to himself that the boy was good. Darn good. Too good. The small acrobat had a true natural gift that was only honed by his intensive acrobatic training, he figured. Dick had an unparalleled sense of coordination and athleticism that Bruce had worked extremely hard to obtain, now realizing he was in fact nowhere near the level of grace, fluidity, and flexibility the small boy on his shoulders possessed in his short life. Dick had more natural ability in his pinkie finger than Bruce had in his entire body, as evidenced by everything he'd seen in the last so many months.

Still, though, he did not give up.

He was determined to see this through. He was Batman. He was the Night. But mostly? He was a sore loser who would never admit to being okay with a nine-year-old child besting him in anything.

So far, so good. After ten steps, it was actually going well.

Until it wasn’t.

Dick smiled and pulled a quick audible and replaced his feet with his hands... on his mentor's head... in one swift motion. This immediate movement did not sit well with Bruce.

“Whoa!”

“Easy, big guy! Steady! Keep your legs back in!”

Bruce grunted and protested, scrambling to keep his balance as the hands dug into his hair and pinched his neck. He pitched and shimmied, gritting his teeth against the intense wobbling he just couldn’t control anymore. Compensation became unachievable the second his body lurched forward towards the ground, his legs flying out wildly. Dick gasped and released himself to twist and fly to the ground, adding more unevenness to Bruce’s gait as he tumbled.

However, Bruce didn’t fall sideways to the ground. He didn’t land on the mat.

His large body went straight down… onto the beam... in a split.

The high-pitched squeal that escaped his throat at the cracking impact sent stars shooting through his vision to add to the immense pain stabbing into his gut. Like a lightning bolt tearing apart his insides, Bruce’s eyes went wide as he tried to ease his pain. Seething in and out in an attempt to quell the agony, the billionaire really couldn’t do much but mumble incoherent squeaks and meeps and groans.

When Dick looked up and noticed what happened, all he could do was offer a large sympathetic wince, holding himself as if he could feel his mentor’s pain.

Slowly, Bruce’s body slid sideways and off the beam. His body collapsed heavily onto the floor where the man writhed like a snail, shakily holding himself while rolling onto his side. He huffed and puffed, but even the tiniest eek couldn’t be stemmed.

“Oooooh… Yeesh.” was all Dick could offer, hissing through his teeth as if he could feel the older man’s pain. He shook his head and tutted, standing straighter as he calmly observed the display of discomfort that was surely to last a while, “You didn’t want to have kids of your own, did you?”

If looks could kill… Dick would be dead ten times over.

Lucky for him, the only comeback Bruce had was the feared ‘bat-glare’; he could only mutter out pathetic whimpers and heavy grunts.

“That’s okay, Bruce.” The young acrobat tried to remain upbeat, his hands placed on his hips with finality, “We’ll try again later when you feel better. Ice and rest, that's what Mom always used to say to me! Besides, practice makes perfect, right? So don't worry, we’ll have you up to my level... eventually. Maybe? When you're 50, you might get it.”

Off in the distance, away from the overconfident school-aged child and the wronged and wounded-in-more-ways-than-one billionaire, the unmistakable sounds of snickers and chortles failing to be covered up couldn’t be missed by either one of them.

“Alfred… You’re… fired!”

Chapter Text

**************************

“Whoa, did you see that pass? Sick!”

“Totally! That had to have gone more than 80! I bet that breaks any GSU record we got.”

“Absolutely. Carl Lancer from 14 years ago only threw for 73, which was unheard of back then.”

“But”, Dick Grayson smirked over to his roommate, “Next week you’re bound to break that, Super Star, no sweat. You got this!”

Brian Rogers laughed and threw popcorn in his mouth, “Now that everything is kinda back to normal, who knows. I mean, I did sign professionally, so at least I don’t have to worry about that anymore. But still… We’ll see.”

It had been a full week since the debacle with the Scarecrow’s fear-induced gambling scheme ended. The affected athletes had finally recovered from their terrors and visions, returning to their events with high productivity and success. Brian Rogers was no different. Soaring back to stardom, he committed to a professional contract post-graduation immediately. The downside: he still had a few years to wait.

“You know, I wonder if anyone else went through what I did. I mean, at least other than the ones they covered on TV. I bet there’s more than we know.”

Dick’s grin flattened somewhat, the irony hitting him hard.

“Yeah… I wonder…”

If he only knew.

As Dick recalled his own horrific hallucinations as Robin, remembering all the moments of sheer terror and insanely unnatural paralyzing fear, he also observed that Brian’s face dropped, as well. It was as if something else were still on his mind other than wondering about other victims. Being the detective he was, Dick pried cautiously.

“Bri? Everything okay?”

The other college boy sighed and flopped back on his bed, “I dunno man… I mean, yeah, everything’s fine but…” he placed his hands behind his head and gazed at the ceiling, “it’s just the nightmares that bug me.”

“Nightmares?” Dick’s interest was piqued.

Brian nodded, “Yeah. Except they’re not really nightmares. It’s like it happens during the day, ya know? Like day-mares. But, different than before. See, after it all went down, I thought it was over, right? But each time I'd walk through the tunnels in practice or whenever I caught a pass, or even walked past the stadium, I saw these… shadows that somehow turned into monsters. They were kinda see-through, too. Like, not solid. I knew they weren’t real, so once I shook them off I was good to go. I haven’t seen them for a couple days now, so maybe they’re all gone.” he admitted, staring back up at the ceiling, “Still bugged the heck out of me…”

Dick gazed at him for a moment more, quietly considering his words. Brian truly had no idea how much his words hit the nighttime vigilante close to home….

“Hey…” Brian spoke back up, curiously tilting his head to the other boy, “How come you weren’t affected? You touched the telegram, too.”

The former circus star blinked at the question and sat up straighter. While he couldn’t legitimately talk about his escapades as a spandexed hero, he could open up about some of his fears he had. After all, Brian was right: he did touch the envelope. By all logic, Dick Grayson should have shown symptoms of the fear toxin, as well. He could at least admit to it at some surface-level capacity.

“Oh, umm…” he began timidly, “I was, actually.”

“Really?”

“Y-yeah. Well…” Dick sat up and crossed his legs on his beds, a serious look drawn on his face, “I mean, I didn’t really see monsters or anything like that. But… I did sort of.. hallucinate… people falling…”

He uttered the last words so meekly, as if admitting his insecurities made them all real. Yes, they were real, but he wanted to forget it all without talking about it. He didn’t want to get into how he would envision his parents – or Bruce– falling all over again, or how he was too fear stricken on the side of the building as Robin to do anything to help his partner who fell right next to him, or the waves of dizzying vertigo that washed over him each time his adrenaline spiked standing on a step stool.

Brian Rogers also knew how the former acrobat’s parents died.

“Whoa. Dude… I’m sorry. That must have sucked.”

The comment was sympathetic, at least, which made Dick’s tight-lipped frown straighten into a grateful grin. He shook it off and picked up the remote, trying to be more upbeat about it all.

“Hey, at least it’s all over, right? Time to focus on what really matters: this game!”

His roommate laughed and nodded at the diversion.

“Tell me about it. Speaking of this game, how about you play QB and pass me a cold one, huh?”

“You got it, Man!”

Dick reached into their miniature fridge and pulled out a can, tossing the beverage to Brian who caught it effortlessly. They joked and laughed a bit more, renewing their commentary on the latest pigskin game on the television. But as they watched, the Boy Wonder couldn’t help but think about their conversation and how his own hallucinations plagued him for quite some time… and unbeknownst to anyone else, to some extent, still did…

****

The next day Dick had elected to go home to the Manor for the upcoming Fall Break. He had been planning to help Bruce on a project that involved a new Riddler case. It was concerning enough to call for reinforcements, so when the Dark Knight asked for help solving some puzzles– to which his ward excelled–, the call was answered.

“How did he even manage manipulating the therapy sessions is the question… It’s not that he could just… Hmmm…”

Batman sat hunched over the computer, his cowl down around his shoulders, murmuring clues to himself the deeper he grew engrossed in the case. Clicking and clacking keys were the only other sounds in the cave other than his mumbling and the bats squeaking in the cavern. A guttural grunt of frustration rumbled in his throat as he hit another dead end in the case of Riddler’s recent hijacking of therapy sessions in which he tricked the unfortunate sufferers into dangerous financial thefts.

“Have you figured out tonight’s clue yet? I’ll admit, this one is downright bizarre and not quite Nigma’s M.O. Makes me wonder if there’s someone else in play.”

Instead of receiving an answer, he was met with silence. Turning a side eye to the younger man next to him, Bruce observed the boy had been completely zoned out of the task at hand. Sitting cross-legged on the table adjacent to the computer, Dick, while holding several pieces of paper containing the riddles in his hands, seemed not to be focusing on it at all. His still eyes were glossed over as if he were seeing past the paper in his hands.

“Dick?”

No response. Batman raised his voice a tad to alert his still frozen ward to his question.

“Dick.”

It was enough to work. Dick stirred and blinked up to the older man, gawking like he was caught in an awkward moment. When the older man’s blues quirked questioningly, he realized he had not been paying attention.

“No, I, uh… I haven’t figured it out yet. You’re right, it is tough.”

Bruce studied him as he dug his eyes back to the clues on the papers, his brow furrowing as if only now he had been attempting to figure it out. Between his slumped but tight shoulders, his pursed mouth, fidgety toes, and his distracted demeanor, something was bothering his ward. In fact, it looked like he hadn’t slept in days, judging by the purple under his droopy eyes. Bruce wasn’t sure what it could be, though. Granted, he had just experienced a traumatic time with the fear toxin, but all the symptoms and side effects had long since been gone. At least, that’s what Dick had claimed.

Claimed…

Still, it couldn’t hurt to pry.

“Some of Scarecrow’s fear toxin victims were reported to have lingering effects.” Batman began coolly, trying to stir up a conversation on the matter. “Official police notes are that they still saw faint shadows of their fears. Still succumbing to slight echoes of hal–”

“--hallucinations.”

Dick’s quick interruptions stopped Batman in his tracks. Again, raising an eyebrow towards his ward, he sent a question without asking one. Seeing this, the boy cleared his throat and shrugged it off as hearsay.

“Oh, um, yeah. Brian had mentioned yesterday he was still having waking nightmares. Day-mares, he called them.” Dick provided quietly. “He would see shadow-like monsters like the kind he saw on the field, but then they would go away when he convinced himself it wasn’t real. He said he hadn’t had one in a couple days, so… I guess it’s all good now.”

Batman studied the young man’s body language as he opened up. Dick appeared somber and serious, but also distracted and distant. The small tight smile didn’t reach his secretive eyes. As was observed before, his bare toes fidgeted and twitched, his fingers played with the papers, and his body was hunched over. He was absolutely holding something back… This made the older hero both confused he hadn’t spoken of it before and also concerned that Dick was experiencing something similar.

“And you?”

Dick lifted his blues to his guardian again and saw a quiet whisper of concern on his face. He knew that look… it was a look that stoically screamed ‘I require an answer. Now.’ while also gently worried about the outcome. Both Bruce and Batman were asking. Understanding that he wasn’t going to be able to get out of a no response, he smiled wider and blew it off as nonchalantly as he could.

“Nope! All good.” And then he perked up and pointed to the papers in his hands. “Hey, I think I figured it out!”

Batman listened as his partner sorted out the cryptic message from the super criminal, enthusiastically expressing his expert analysis of what Edward Nigma was up to in latest escapades. Still, though, as Dick gave a detailed rundown of what the clues and riddles meant, ultimately leading to a hopeful capture, Bruce couldn’t help but feel he was missing something else not dealing with the Riddler’s case…

****

The Riddler’s case, turned out, was a complete sham. After investigating for two full nights, Batman had determined that while the Riddler was most assuredly still in Arkham, there was no way he was able to still send those clues out for the Dark Knight to find. In fact, a little rat down in Gotham South had offered up information for a copy-cat nobody who was doing their darndest to make a name for himself in the dark city. The clues were fairly solid; they were enough to stump and confuse both the Caped Crusader and the Boy Wonder. Hindsight, no wonder…

It was fake. All of it.

And it was enough to sorely frustrate Batman.

At least the copy-cat trickster was off the streets and in a low-level prison for impersonating a mastermind criminal villain. Even his intended grab at stealing from a psychiatrist’s business seemed off for Nigma… Made sense, because it wasn’t Nigma.

The Batmobile rumbled into the cave late that night, its engine clicking for a while after it cut off. When the canopy opened, a weary and annoyed Batman jumped out. He ran a heavy hand over his face, more irritated at the turn of events than anything, but secretly grateful it wasn’t anything serious.

However, when he heard a noise that sounded mechanical and unnatural, he figured he wasn’t alone.

Bruce walked around the cave past the computer console to another section set up for working out, sparring, and otherwise training. It was also where he, Alfred, and Dick had set up several pieces of gymnastics and acrobatic equipment over the years, expanding their repertoire of machinery to double or triple capacity based on the young circus star’s intense needs to stay active. A balance beam, a vault, pommel horse, rings, parallel bars, and even a low-flying trapeze were installed. Although, the one in use, as Batman glanced up to the ceiling, was the high wire. It wasn’t a true high wire structure; more of a significantly higher balance beam, sporting a thin rail rather than a wire approximately twenty feet off the ground. Still, though, it wasn’t the beam that caught his attention, it was the man on it.

Dick Grayson stood on the thin rail, his arms spread out to balance. He was dressed in his regular athletic attire, not his Robin gear. In fact, Robin hadn’t been seen on the streets since the night at the Gotham State University football game that ended Scarecrow’s fear toxin betting scam a week and a half ago.

Moving slowly, Dick took one foot in front of the other, focused and serious. Bruce watched as he went into a series of movements and flips. A quick cartwheel into two back handsprings. A one-handed handstand into a split. Two front flips and a no-handed twist.

While Dick’s athleticism appeared normal to anyone watching, Bruce knew better. He watched the choppy way his feet landed, the agitation in his muscles. Even from the height above he could see the tightness in his brow and the sweat on his skin. He observed how his boy gritted his teeth each time he made a maneuver and a flip as if each time he did them he figured it wouldn’t go well.

Dick was stressed. And distracted.

Bruce took off his cowl and moved in closer, quietly, doing his best not to startle the young man who was hyper-focused on his balance. He could tell something was bothering him, like he was not quite all there mentally, so any sudden movements on his part could inadvertently shock him and make him lose that focus. So Bruce just stood by, carefully scanning for anything extra out of the ordinary.

Suddenly, after a sequence of high-intensity no-handed back flips, Dick’s footing slipped. He flew forward with a gasp, his cheek connecting with the beam with a resounding grunt of pain as his body lurched sideways haphazardly. Although, with what could have been a disaster, Dick’s reflexes kicked in and he twisted his arm back to snag the beam in a tight grip. His body dangled precariously over the abyss – Bruce was grateful for the safety net Dick was always required to use– while he panted and heaved, his eyes wide with fear.

He wasn’t the only one.

It took everything in Bruce not to go to his aid. Still, he couldn’t help but react at the mishap, flinching with his own worry.

But, Dick was a professional. He winced and pulled himself up to the beam, his one leg tucked under him while the other lay loose to his side. Frustrated with himself, he pinched his blues tight and leaned forward, his head resting on the beam while his hands clutched at his head. His body was still shaking, Bruce noted, as if trying to collect himself from the misstep.

It pulled at Bruce’s heartstrings to see Dick very obviously preoccupied with something truly bothering him. Dick never misses on the beam… ever.

Slowly, still trembling, the young acrobat rose and pulled himself back a few feet to the platform and climbed down the ladder to the ground. Dick took another shuddering breath and slid down, his legs splayed out in front of him as his back slackened against the railing. He closed his eyes and tried to block everything out, breathing deeply through the strain.

He was so distracted he had no idea he wasn’t alone.

“That didn’t go well.”

Dick gasped and shook at the baritone, lifting his tense eyes over to the sound. He relaxed when he saw Bruce. The boy let out a long exhale as he forced his lungs to return to normal and laid his head back.

“Geez, don’t scare me like that.”

“You were distracted.”

“Heh,” Dick gave a pathetic snort, “Ya think?”

Bruce didn’t say anything. He just stood by and watched as his boy very visibly worked hard to put himself back together. Slowly, Dick rose to his feet. Walking over to a nearby table, he reached for a towel to dry his face, wincing with a hiss when his bruised cheek ached at the touch. He sighed and walked past his mentor who never took his eyes off him.

Finally, after a few moments of awkward silence and before Dick took off too far away, Bruce spoke up.

“I thought you said you weren’t having any hallucinations.”

To this, Dick froze and spun back, surprised by the comment. He turned to Bruce, his blues open with confusion.

“How did you kn–”

Of course… Bruce knew it all.

After a few moments of watching the smallest twitch in his mentor’s jaw to let Dick know he had figured it the whole time, the teen resigned to reality. He exhaled and slumped, resorting to giving up the charade. He couldn’t hide it anymore. At least, physically. Dick didn’t speak as his head bowed to the ground, which gave Bruce an opening to inquire more.

“When were you going to tell me?”

The boy cleared his throat and stood straighter, the timidness still etched all over his face. Shrugging indifferently, Dick still didn’t look at Bruce.

“It wasn’t a big deal.”

“You almost fell, Dick. You could have hurt yourself. I’d call that a big deal.”

When he didn’t receive an answer, Bruce took a few steps towards the boy and prodded more.

“Is this why you still won’t go on patrol? You’re afraid?”

Well, when Dick heard it said that way, it made him feel ashamed. A tightness in his chest grew, making it more difficult to focus and reason without getting emotional. His hands fidgeted with the towel, wringing it with his hands to keep the obvious tension at bay.

“I’m not… It’s just…”

“How often are you seeing things? I thought you had a handle on this.”

Now Dick felt embarrassed. He pursed his lips and forced his nose to help him breathe steady. His heart raced as he was called out, the quickening of his agitated pulse making his skin flush with shame. His eyes still didn’t look up. His too-bright blues stung, narrowing with humiliation at nothing while his body tensed.

“Are you going to answer me?”

It was all out in the open now. There was no use hiding it. Dick took a shaky breath and barked out a sarcastic huff and glared up at Bruce.

“What do you want me to tell you, huh?”

“I want you to tell me the truth.”

“The truth?” Dick snorted, his agitation and frustration on full display, “You want the truth!? The truth is that I’m a useless piece of crap!” He threw his towel angrily.

Bruce watched as Dick paced back and forth, his hands clenched and shaking, alternating between falling tightly to his sides or running through his midnight locks. Erratic breaths seethed through gritted teeth, the very epitome of stress and anxiety manifested.

“The truth is that I can’t go one day without seeing things that aren’t real but can’t rationalize they’re not real until it’s too late! Every time I see them I try to tell myself it’s not real. They're not really there… that it's not really happening… It's not real life. But it doesn’t matter. It still happens! I still see them!” He let out a quakey breath, “And it’s driving me insane!”

The Dark Knight felt helpless. Whatever happened with the fear toxin was still obviously having an affect on his ward, causing him severe anxiety and depressive stress. Lingering visions still had a hard grip, refusing to let go. But, as Dick still paced around, irritated with this reality, Bruce wanted to know one thing. Suspicions swirled, but he wanted clarification in case he was mistaken.

“Who are you seeing?”

Not what. Who.

Dick stopped… His frame shook and held his torso tightly, his quivering hands wrapping himself up. He sniffled and closed his eyes, praying to keep the tears inside. After a few beats he whispered brokenly, as if admitting it out loud made it more real.

“Them… You…”

Bruce knew exactly what he meant. Softening, he understood… Of all the things, this would be the one thing Dick would subconsciously hallucinate about, without a doubt. It all made sense.

“I… I don’t know why it’s still happening.” The young man questioned, desperately struggling to understand. He opened his eyes and glared pathetically at the ground beneath his feet as if he were seeing beyond it, “It’s just… I’ve been exposed to Scarecrow’s fear toxin once before. But it got better on its own right away. It’s been over a week, Bruce! I-I… I just keep seeing them. They’re falling, over and over again, even yelling out to me. Calling my name. Begging for help.” He rubbed a trembling hand over his face. “Then I-I… I see them on the… on the ground. They’re just… there, a-and…”

He stopped for a moment and took a beat, exhaling sharply to further illustrate how beside himself he was. Bruce waited, not bothering to intervene.

“And then I see you.” Dick croaked painfully, half facing the older man, “I see you on that ledge, just hanging there. You needed my help and I… I-I… I couldn’t do anything about it. And then you did fall! You fell!” He spun fully around and gestured with sorrowful eyes to his mentor who stood by like a tree. “You could have died! And it would have been all my fault! I was helpless. Completely useless. I froze. I couldn’t move at all, like I was paralyzed…”

The young man took another shaky breath and deflated, his self-doubt eating him up inside. Dick hung his head and stared at his hands, whispering painfully in a desperate need for answers.

“And it’s not getting any better… Why isn’t it? Why isn’t the fear toxin going away? What’s wrong with me?”

Bruce’s heart truly ached for him. He knew that Dick had felt guilty before, but the fact that he still felt this way even after more than a week was something troubling. However, he also knew how to remedy the situation. He exhaled softly and took a few steps to his ward.

“It’s not the fear toxin, Dick. It’s you.”

To this, the young man wasn’t exactly expecting such a blatant insult. He curled his lips with a sardonic snort and half glared at the caped hero.

“Gee, thanks, Bruce. Way to admit I’m a total loser instead of just half a one.”

Bruce shook his head to disagree and corrected himself quickly.

“That’s not what I meant. You said it yourself; Brian’s visions stopped days ago. So did the other athletes’, according to them. The fear toxin wore off, you’re right. But what’s happening to you now isn’t the lingering fear toxin. It’s your mind.”

“... still not helping…”

“Dick,” The older man softly spoke, leveling his voice to get through to the distraught boy. He didn’t want to upset him anymore than he already had been doing, so he selected his words wisely, “You know as well as I do that a mind is a powerful thing. Your imagination can convince you of anything if you allow it to, good or bad. So what happens to someone when they have a lot on their mind, or even a wild imagination? They’re restless.” Bruce answered without waiting. “They dwell on things… They see things. Things that aren't really there."

He waited until he knew the young boy was listening before continuing.

“Yes, you were affected by Scarecrow’s fear toxin that took your adrenaline and excitement and turned it into paralyzing fear. What’s happening to you right now, though, isn’t because of the fear toxin; it’s because you’re dwelling on something and allowing it to manifest in your mind, causing you to still experience residual nightmares and visions. Do you know what that is?”

Bruce watched as Dick curiously shifted his eyes his way, as if to say I don’t want to know but secretly do.

“Guilt.”

To this, Grayson looked up completely, his solemn and dejected blues focusing on his guardian’s. He watched Bruce for any signs of untruths, but when the billionaire came over to him and stood in front, all he saw was kindness and understanding.

“I’m saying this is all in your mind because it’s true. You’re blaming yourself for things that were never your fault. Not being able to reach me on that ledge is not your fault. Your parents… that was never your fault. And the second you realize that what happened is not because of something you did wrong, the second you can start to recover. You were not in control when you felt fear, Dick. But, you were in control when you swung down and grabbed that toxin vial out of thin air, saving the entire stadium. You need to get that control back and not allow these nightmares to control you. Trust me,” he added with a knowing smirk in an attempt to relate to the situation, “I’m an expert at allowing nightmares to control me.”

Dick couldn’t help but feel a bubble of humor rumble in his throat, knowing it was true. Bruce laid a gentle hand on his shoulder, offering even more support.

“You have to forgive yourself. You have to get past this. If you keep letting uncertainty and guilt fog your mind, you’ll never get over this. The fear and anxiety will eat you alive.”

“It just…” The young man wiped away a tear that had threatened to fall, feeling his heart beat race again. He whispered emotionally, his voice nearly cracking, “It all felt so real…”

“I know it did.” Bruce understood completely, “But put things in perspective; your visions aren’t some trivial missed goal, or flubbed pass, or monster on a tennis court. You can’t compare Brian’s experiences to yours. You can’t. You can’t allow your subconscious guilt to take over your reality. You’ll never get any better if you allow yourself to keep holding onto guilt and blame for things that were never your fault. Do you understand?”

Dick looked up to Bruce and locked eyes, the older man holding nothing but empathy and compassion in his blues. Dick’s lips wavered under his steadfast gaze, feeling both vulnerable and vindicated in one fell swoop. He tightened his mouth into a small smile, a grateful smile, and nodded.

“Thanks…”

Bruce squeezed his shoulder again and finished with a heavy pat. Then, he gave a warm crooked grin and tilted his head over towards the rest of the cave’s equipment.

“Come on. Let’s get some ice for your face. It’s already turning green.”

The acrobat reached up and felt his cheek that took the brunt of his flub on the high-beam, wincing and seething when the bruise pinched deep. Dick exhaled roughly and loudly, nodding. With an embarrassed chuckle, he followed his father-figure to the medical bay.

“Good thing I do this stuff on the reg, huh? Hard to explain away all the bruises without the gymnastics background.”

“Tell me about it. Alfred had to find me movie-set face paint in my early days. They even had an article about it in the Gotham Tattler that I was wearing cosmetics.”

This time, Dick full out cackled teasingly, raising an eye up to the other man, “Wait, seriously? You mean you had to wear make-up?! Aw man, this I gotta see!”

“I paid the company a substantial reward to bury the story before it was distributed. You’ll never find it.”

“Says who? Expert research artist, at your service! Besides, I’ve been trained by the Batman, remember?”

“And I am the Batman… What’s your point?”

“My point is that you underestimate me, old man. That article is as good as found!”

“Good luck, kid.”

********************

As it would have it, Bruce Wayne offered some solid advice on overcoming subconscious illusions that would otherwise trick and distort reality. It had only taken a couple more days of self-convincing for Dick to quell his day-mares and hallucinations, allowing himself to understand the truth that while he may have reacted a certain way under the influence of the fear toxin, it was not because he was at fault. That peace of mind permitted the boy to quell his uneasiness and anxiety, allowing him to fully put the past behind him, and accept no more guilt over something he couldn’t control.

For now, a couple weeks later, the sun shone bright above on a beautiful Gotham autumn afternoon, the beams illuminating the billionaire’s corner office of his Wayne Enterprises highrise in downtown. Bruce shuffled through paperwork, checking over contracts and other financials per the regular duties of his day job. He checked his watch once more, praying for the hours to tick by so he could put on the cape and cowl once more.

A knock and a quiet voice chipped into his duties.

“Mr. Wayne? I’m so sorry to interrupt, but…”

Bruce looked up and saw his secretary standing in the doorway. The young brunette, no older than college-aged herself, had been with the company for just a few months, so the CEO had been getting used to her shyness. He greeted her with a kind smile.

“Yes, Miss Tull, can I help you?”

“You, um, have a visitor, sir. Says he doesn’t need an appointment.” Despite her introverted nature, she had a sly grin on her face as if she had some information only privy to a select few, as if she were hiding a secret.

Curious, Bruce raised his brow, “Oh? And who would that be?”

Sure enough, Richard Grayson opened the door further and strolled in with the biggest smile plastered over his face. It was not uncommon for the young man to hold such a grin, but all the same it was definitely indicative of a great mood.

“Aww come on! I don’t get that luxury?” He then turned and waved at the secretary with a cute wink, “Thanks, Carla!”

“Don’t mention it, Di– I mean, Mr. Grayson.” Miss Tull giggled quietly, a slight blush crossing her face. Catching herself in a moment of flirtatious weakness, she cleared her throat and returned to her proper posture before slipping out the door, the coy grin still visible.

Bruce relaxed when he saw it was his ward, grateful it wasn’t a serious meeting. While Dick was one of thee only people he would allow in uninvited and unscheduled, he was also confused as to why he was even here.

“What are you doing here?”

“I'm doing good, thanks for asking.”

“I mean,” Bruce corrected apologetically, sitting back in his chair with his papers still in his hand as he looked between them and his approaching boy, who had both his hands behind his back, “Don’t you have class?”, then another worried thought popped into his mind, “Everything okay?”

Dick chuckled and stopped near his desk. His arms were still clasped behind his back, and Bruce noted that his posture was playful and even somewhat mischievous. The boy’s grin hadn’t shifted course, remaining high and tight, lighting up his eyes with an impish glint.

“Ooooh, suuuure. Yup! Everything is perfectly fine! In fact, I just wanted to stop by and give you an early birthday present.”

This made Wayne stop. He lifted a dubious brow up to his ward and deadpanned the obvious, “My birthday isn’t for another three months.”

“Oh yeah, you’re right! Silly me.” Dick snapped his fingers at his mistake, though his lighthearted chuckling never ceased, “Then maybe it’s an early birthday present for me!”

“That’s in four months…”

This time, Grayson’s grin shifted from its gleeful chipper toothiness to a deviously sinister smirk. A smug smirk, in fact. He puffed out his chest and stood tall in front of Bruce who had instantly become more wary about what his ward was really up to and what actually prompted the unexpected visit.

“Well…” He confidently cleared his throat and brought out a wad of paper from behind his back, tapping it in his hands, his cocky grin growing even wider, “Then consider this an inaugural present for the first day of I told you I’d win! BOOM!! Read it and weep, big guy!!”

With a resounding smack on the table, Dick flung a hefty newspaper onto the table, both his hands framing it. Bruce peered at the bold presentation, sorely bewildered as to what his boy was even talking about.

Then he saw it…

Bruce gasped and lit up.

“What?! You– How did you–”

He went to grab at the tabloid edition that produced on the front page a gloriously unflattering image of the younger billionaire from at least ten years ago, with the headlines scripting ‘Wayne Wears Women’s Cosmetics? Cover Up for a Cover Up? Shocking!’

Dick did it… He actually did it.

He found the article.

“Nuh uh uh!” Grayson pulled it away just before his father-figure’s fingers could snag it, yanking it high in the air with an effective cackle of victory, “I win! And you lose! How does it feel, huh?! Ha HAA!”

Bruce couldn’t believe it. All he could do was gawk slack-jawed at his ward who took to doing a small jig of achievement in front of his desk. Dick was beyond proud of himself, and Wayne had no idea how he could have done this.

“But… I buried that story! They retracted and destroyed it! How could you possibly have found that?!”

Dick laughed again, hearty enough he had to grab at his stomach from the cramps. Wiping away a tear, he let out a lengthy whooping exhale and beamed at his guardian.

“You honestly think I’m going to tell you!? Good luck! Oooh, this feels so good! Maybe I’ll re-gift it to myself as a birthday present after all!” Then he clapped his hands together and turned with a resolute salute, “Anyway, you were right about one thing: I do have class. In like ten minutes, so I gotta go before I’m late… again… Just wanted to come by and gloat for a minute, that’s all. See you at dinner, Bruce!”

And with that, Richard Grayson skipped out the door with an echoing joyful whistle down the hall.

Bruce Wayne blinked at the empty spot his ward had occupied just moments before. Stunned didn’t begin to cover how he felt about what had just occurred. Flabbergasted, shocked, puzzled, absolutely dumbfounded. He flopped back in his chair and wracked his brain for any solution, any plausible path to success, any possible way Dick could have made that happen.

But, despite the taunting and teasing and blatant ridiculing in his honor, Bruce couldn’t help the sly grin that ruptured on his face. Chuckling deep in his throat, he sat back and crossed his arms, glaring out towards the door with a mixture of deep fond appreciation and renewed sense of equal revenge.

“I guess I taught him too well..”

Chapter Text

*********************

“Bruce? Good old Bruce… You’re always there. You never give up on me.”

“He’s right. You’re always there for him.”

“Yes… Just like you’re always there for me.”

“Hey! What are friends for?”

It was nearly 11:00 pm.

Two Face had just been readmitted to Arkham Asylum after his recent kidnapping attempt of… himself . Batman had apprehended him and returned him to the system. However, if not for Robin swinging in as a tag-a-long, it might not have been a successful evening.

For now, Dick Grayson sat in the passenger seat of the vehicle as he and his guardian drove home after visiting Arkham to see Harvey Dent off, once again hoping for rehabilitation that actually succeeded. One of the boy’s legs curled up a little, his shoulder leaning against the door frame. His eyes weren’t on the road as much, but the dark blur of passing trees. Quiet had settled between him and Bruce Wayne: not heavy, but thoughtful, like the kind that followed a storm. Even though there was no fallout following the incident of Two Face’s disappearance as far as how to approach the case after Batman had discovered who the ‘kidnapper’ was – Two Face himself had orchestrated the attack–, there were definitely some moments of insecurity and ignorance on both parts, causing somewhat of a rift between the two heroes for a moment.

After a while of pensive silence, Dick turned slightly, his tone tentative.

“Hey, Bruce… Can I ask you something?”

The billionaire glanced over briefly from the road to his ward, nodding, his tone warm and open. “Of course.”

Dick hesitated, choosing his words carefully. He didn’t want to say anything offensive or triggering, but he had a nagging sense of needing to know something.

“I know you and Harvey were friends when you were younger. But… you don’t really talk about him much. What was he like? Ya know… before all of this. Before Two Face.”

At first, Dick thought his guardian wouldn’t answer. The older man’s fingers tightened on the wheel momentarily, but it wasn’t due to anger or frustration or irritation, but a sense of gathering one’s thoughts before speaking. Bruce Wayne took a deep breath and spoke very calmly, remembering a lifetime ago.

“We met in high school, actually. Had some of the same classes, joined similar activities… liked some of the same girls.” He added with a slight twitch to his mouth. “We weren’t really close then. More like acquaintances, really. But friendly enough.”

The car turned down a familiar lane leading toward the Manor, gravel crunching gently beneath the tires. Dick kept his eyes on his mentor, listening to every word.

“After graduation, he went to Law School. I traveled.” Bruce remembered wistfully. “But, when I came back, that’s when we really connected. I was trying to piece together what the Foundation would be, having inherited the entire estate after my father. Harvey was a young defense lawyer, already trying to make waves in society before he became the youngest DA in Gotham history. We started running into each other more and more. Fundraisers, court rooms, lectures. Then day trips on yachts and nights at the clubs. He was… magnetic, to say the least. Always knew the right words to say to get an entire audience on his side.”

A hint of fondness crept in Bruce’s voice. It was rare, Dick noted, but unmistakable.

“He wasn’t afraid to call me out. Called me spoiled to my face once. I called him a hot head.” Bruce chuckled slightly. “He had Heart. Passion. He wanted to fix things and make the city a better place. He believed he could. I believed he could.”

Dick listened quietly, hanging on every word. He watched Bruce’s profile in the dim light of the dashboard and the passing light posts. He could see the weight of the memories in his guardian’s eyes, the ache of something he lost– not just a friend, but maybe a version of Gotham that might’ve been. Then the billionaire paused, a faint amused smile rose on his lips.

“He even dated Pamela Isley at one point.”

Now that wasn’t what Dick was expecting.

“Wait, you mean Poison Ivy? Seriously?”

“She was a brilliant botanist with a sharp wit.” Then he smirked even louder with a playful side eye, “He actually asked her to marry him.”

“No way! How did I not know that?”

“In the end, she was just dating him to retaliate against the Gotham Penitentiary he built that ruined some rare roses, funded by the Foundation, of course. Needless to say it didn’t end well.”

Dick envisioned that odd relationship with an amused snicker, thinking about how weird it was to consider them a couple at one point. He had remembered meeting Harvey Dent at a few galas when younger and fresh from the circus and then juvie, but he was just a kid; he hadn’t known Dent the way Bruce did, as adults with similar interests. Plus, Dick was only a couple years into his Robin-hood when the transformation to Two Face took effect, so he hadn’t had time to really get to know him. 

But then he thought about something else, something with a bit more commiserate awareness.

“You really knew a lot of them before they turned rogue, didn’t you?”

Wayne nodded, turning down another road. A darkness fell over his eyes, but it wasn’t a shadow of anger, rather a dim reminder of the past that was. “I did.”

“That’s so weird to think about, ya know? I mean, I was just a kid when they kinda started to go south. But, you knew them as real people.”

“Isley, Crane, Fries… Harvey… They were all good people. Good people with good hearts but misguided ideals and a jaded view on life. Mix all that with a broken system and... you know what could happen.”

The silence that followed wasn’t uncomfortable. It was appreciative. Nostalgic. Even slightly melancholy. Full of things Dick understood more than he had even a year ago: loss, change, the slow quiet pain of seeing someone you care about slip away. The teen knew that feeling all too well. At least, maybe not the slow slip but more of the sudden rip. Bruce understood both aspects of loss, and was helpless to stop any of it from happening, no matter how much he tried.

The luxury sedan pulled into the circular driveway of Wayne Manor, the headlights searching out the garage. Once Bruce parked the vehicle, he turned off the engine but stayed put. Dick noticed he still had something on his mind. The older man took a deep sigh.

“Harvey was my past. He was someone I didn’t know I needed when I came back to Gotham after all those years away. Supportive, caring. A true friend.” Then Bruce turned to his boy and smiled. A warm, genuine, heartfelt smile. “But now I have you.”

Dick blinked at the openness. Whatever he was expecting when he asked Bruce about Harvey, this was not it. This conversation had suddenly turned… personal.

“I don’t tell you this often,” the older man admitted with a solemn brow, nearly apologetic, “Or even show you… Maybe not at all, if I’m going to be honest. But... you are very important to me, Dick. More than you’ll ever know. I do appreciate you. I am grateful to have you in my life. In fact, I truthfully couldn’t imagine my life without you in it. With that being said, I don’t ever want you second guessing what you mean to me.”

The younger man was gawking at this point. He had never heard him say those words, or anything closer to it. Dick could only stare, his mouth agape and his eyes wide. Bruce was not an emotional person by any stretch of the imagination, but his heart was pouring right now and all he could do was stare. He swallowed hard, a thick lump of emotion settling in. Bruce wasn’t finished.

“You’re not just my partner or my ward, Dick. You’re not even just my friend.” Bruce held the boy’s surprised gaze tight in his warm blues, a smile easing across his cheeks. “You’re my family.”

That did it. A wave of warmth bloomed in Grayson’s chest, so fast and full he almost couldn’t breathe. It wasn’t everyday Bruce expressed emotions. In fact, Dick can’t remember the last time they really actually had a true heart to heart conversation. He looked down at his lap, gathering his wits and his emotions. After a moment he looked back up to Bruce, scratched at his neck awkwardly, blinked away the stinging in his eyes, and grinned tightly. He nodded, his own voice a little rough and thick.

“You’re my family, too, Bruce.”

Bruce held his smile, allowing his moment to sink in. Reaching over, he gave the boy’s chest a good pat and tilted his head outwards, gesturing that they make their way out. Dick grinned wider and followed suit, both men exiting the vehicle and walking quietly towards the house. The silence was comfortable and warm, pensive and contemplative. They rarely had heart to hearts: they happened, just not often, and not to this extent where Bruce expressed his feelings.

When they stepped into the Manor, the air was warmer and lighter despite the threatening storm overhead. It was late for any normal resident, but for the Dynamic Duo there was still time for some action left in the dusk.

“So, what’s the plan for the rest of the night?” Dick smirked over to his partner, a gleam of mischief in his blues, “Back out for patrol? Go a couple rounds with Croc? Fix the wiring in the Batwing’s navigation system that’s been busted for a week?”

To his credit, Bruce grinned back and raised an eyebrow over to the boy as if he had another thought.

“Actually, I was thinking we’d stay in for the rest of the evening. What would you say to a movie night?”

The college boy stopped in his spot, glancing up to his mentor again who continued to walk. Crookedly, he quirked his own brows up and teased back, picking up his steps to catch up a bit to the older man.

“Okay, now I know something’s wrong. Feelings? Movies? You keep this up people might start talking about the great scary Batman actually having a heart.”

Bruce chuckled and mussed up Dick’s hair, “Don’t spread it around. It’ll ruin my reputation.”

“Too late. I’m taking out an ad in the paper tomorrow.” The boy could only snicker back, not even bothering to fix his hair when the older man’s hand dropped.

They walked further into the Manor, rounding the corner and finding their dutiful butler polishing some of the finer silver displayed on the tables. Bruce and Dick strolled up to him, doing their best not to surprise the older man.

“Alfred, could you please prepare the den for a movie night?”

Mr. Pennyworth froze in his tracks. Turning around at the two heroes, he watched them come closer and noticed a light air about them. The evening had most definitely turned sour and stressful as the Two Face debacle grew longer, but seeing wide grins on their faces and a bounce in their step made Alfred voice his curiosity at what changed.

“A movie night, sir?”

Bruce nodded, but Dick was the one to perk up and discuss the details, ticking off his fingers the requirements of the evening.

“You got it! We’ll need snacks, drinks, the works.” Then he grinned and thumbed up towards the bedroom quarters, “I’m gonna go change and be right back to pick out a tape.” And off he went, practically jogging to the steps and taking them two at a time.

Bruce shoved his hands casually in his pockets and watched as his ward joyfully leaped upstairs. Alfred noticed, as well; an unnatural peaceful show of emotion on his eldest charge’s brow that was very rarely witnessed was for sure to cause some attention. The relaxed and jovial expression was enough to make him even more delightfully puzzled.

“How… uncharacteristic of you, sir. Might I inquire about the nature or purpose for the cinematic request? Or at least the reason against donning your cowl again tonight?”

The younger man turned with a smile and followed the butler into the kitchen. There was definitely a greater sense of whimsy about him, Alfred observed, as if a level of stress had flown away. Bruce rummaged through a cabinet for a cup and shrugged casually.

“I guess you could consider it a… a family obligation.”

“Family, sir?”

Bruce nodded again, filling up a glass with water, “We don’t do it enough.”

Alfred put aside the reference to the three of them as a family for another time– it was definitely something that needed discussing– and raised an eyebrow even higher. He watched the man take a sip, dryly commenting on the lack of such activities.

“Or at all… At least not since the young Master was a wee lad.”

“Well… Perhaps it’s time we start a new tradition then.” The billionaire finished his glass and let out a satisfied sigh. Then he gave his butler a playful smirk and a hefty pat on the shoulder as he walked back out of the kitchen, “...and you’re joining us whether you like it or not.”

The Englishman watched him walk away, a kick in his step he hadn’t had for quite some time. It felt new, and strange, and… absolutely wonderful. Alfred couldn’t help the blossoming sense of togetherness grow in his gut as he smiled after his boss. He shook his head at the appreciated idea of partaking in an enjoyable evening activity with his… family.

Not even a half hour later Bruce Wayne found himself settling comfortably in his favorite recliner in the den, plopping down with a warm cup of coffee. Due to his extracurricular activities and his abnormal routine lifestyle, caffeine at all hours of the day or night was completely acceptable.

“Okay, so I couldn’t decide on just one.”

He turned his head as his younger partner strolled up, happily clutching several video boxes in his arms. Dick, being the gymnast he was, leaned over and flipped upside down and sideways onto the couch, displaying all of them with the biggest cheese he could.

“Soooo I got four!”

Bruce chuckled at the boy who was still upside down, previewing the movies in his hands, “That’s not indecision, Dick, that’s surrender. Do you seriously want to watch four movies tonight?

Dick snickered and shrugged, “Why not?” His smile turned sarcastic, teasing his guardian. “You’re just nervous that your old man self can’t handle pulling an all-nighter for something other than beating bad guys to a pulp.”

To this, Bruce raised an eyebrow and paused his sip of coffee, a sharp look of offense gracing his features, despite the playful nature of the jab.

“Old man?”

“Heck yeah!” The boy laughed, his feet still dangling over the back of the couch, “You’re like six times my age, dude. That makes you ancient.”

“Six times? You know I’m not that much older than you.”

“... okay then, five times.”

Bruce snorted and scoffed at the insult, crossing his arms challenging towards the ornery boy. His smirk grew, “So what does that make you? Seven years old?”

Back and forth their teasing and banter went, one insulting the other, the other taking it and throwing something right back. It wasn’t until Alfred Pennyworth came into the room with a tray full of popcorn and drinks did he realize he walked into a rather physically heated argument.

“Oh my word! Master Bruce, please unhand those vintage silk Turkish pillows this instant! And Master Dick, do come down from the edge of the sofa before you break it. It was bad enough we had to purchase another chandelier, I do not want to invest in another piece of furniture lest it come out of your own pocket.”

Panting and heaving from their acrobatics and fanatical movements, Bruce and Dick settled their laughing and chortling. The ‘ancient’ man returned their pillows to their proper place and the ‘whippersnapper’ righted himself off the sofa with a resounding plop that still earned another hardened warning glare from the only proper man in the room.

Secretly, Alfred loved it… he just wouldn’t admit it.

****

Hours later, the warm and cozy den was engulfed in darkness, only illuminated by the organic flickering flames in the fireplace and the fluorescent glow of the television as the third movie played on the screen. Dick had chosen four movies as a dare to his guardian and they were currently over halfway through.

Bruce Wayne sat back in his favorite recliner, one leg crossed over the other, as he quietly watched on, the figures and dialogue playing along on the television. However, just as another punchline hit in the plot, his attention shifted to something other than the characters. Something a bit more…. Personal.

On the couch next to the recliner, draped awkwardly across the plush cushions, one arm draped behind an unruly head of midnight hair, the other falling towards the floor, legs crossed gently at the ankles, was a figure of perfect contentment and relaxation. Subtle snoring emanated from a gently parted mouth as the muscular chest rose in rhythm while bright blue eyes were shut off from the world.

Dick Grayson was sound asleep.

Bruce noticed the teenager had started to drift off halfway through the second film. A quick reminder of the ‘old man versus young whippersnapper’ challenge had him perking up immediately, acting as if he hadn’t just lost the bet. But as the third movie rolled on, any fight he had left putzed out and he finally succumbed to dreamland.

A small smirk rose on the older man’s face as he watched the boy snooze, mixed between warm appreciation and earned swagger at winning the bedtime bet.

“Well, it appears as if Master Dick has lost his battle against exhaustion, hmm?”

Bruce chuckled playfully and leaned forward, his elbows on his knees, “I can’t wait to tell him he lost to the ‘old man’.”

“It is likely he will not live it down.”

“Not a chance.”

“I must say…” Alfred Pennyworth mused gently as he lifted the remote to turn off the screen, “There once was a time when this kind of event was unheard of, even back when your parents still graced these halls with their presence. Reserved for special occasions, these film nights were; only held in times of personal accomplishments or business endeavors in which to show off this magnificent space.”

Bruce glanced around the room, admiring its beauty and glamorous luxury, remembering back to a time when it was very far and few between this room was used for something other than casual entertaining for the Wayne Enterprise partnerships or high-end clientele shindigs… then back to the snoozing college boy… and back up to Alfred with an even wider smile.

“Well, I guess you could say it is a special occasion, Alfred.”

“Indeed.” 

The butler mused, a twitch of lightness to his cheeks. He rose to his feet, pulling his lounging robe tighter around him. He gave a calm sigh as he gathered their refreshments and snacks onto the tray for clean-up. A pensive quiet filled the space as Alfred placed the used cups and bowls on the tray… but it didn’t last long.

“You do remember, sir, that when you first made the decision to take in the young boy I had my reservations.”

“... I remember.”

“I was worried, I do admit,” he went on, wiping the table around the cluttered tray, “of how his stay here would manifest itself. Given your lifestyle, I did not think a young child here would do well for either one of you. Especially a young child as rambunctious and full of life as Master Dick, despite his traumatic experiences that rendered him lethargic and depressed most days he was not swinging from a chandelier.”

“It was… a lot.” Bruce admitted with a long nod, remembering back to the days that Playboy Brucie, Billionaire CEO Mr. Wayne, and Batman would hinder any interaction with the young child. Being gone most of the day and evening prevented him from truly getting to know the boy early on. Each time Dick would ask where Bruce was he was met with any kind of excuse Pennyworth could manage in the moment.

“It was meant to be temporary, was it not?”

Bruce considered their original arrangement. Richard Grayson was not intended to stay at Wayne Manor permanently. Once the billionaire had discovered the misplacement of the poor circus boy in the juvenile detention center rather than any orphanage or safe house, he knew he had to do something. Doing what he thought was right, he had accepted – after some intense legal battles that settled as migraines for quite some time– the young boy into his home. Still, though, despite all the court settlements and paperwork, it was still meant to be for a short period of time. Dick was never supposed to stay forever.

“It was…”

“Although, despite our intentions, I do say,” Pennyworth went on, seeing how his eldest charge had changed throughout the young acrobat’s extended stay, especially with how he was acting tonight, “his very presence had become precisely what this drafty old mansion needed. You and I both have become accustomed to solitude and stoicism over the years that I do believe we forgot what true joy and happiness were. What was intended to be a simple provisional solution turned into something much more. Master Dick gained a home he could call his own and you acquired a more dutiful and meaningful purpose in life. A purpose, if I may be so bold, I would characterize as something akin to... fatherhood?”

Bruce didn’t answer right away… he didn’t need to. Pennyworth’s words hit home and their meaning struck deeper. It was true that the last Flying Grayson was only meant to be fostered temporarily until he could find his forever home; after his traumatic ordeal with losing his parents and suffering weeks upon weeks in the child un-protective services’ placement the boy had nestled his way into Bruce and Alfred’s lives so perfectly it was as if he were meant to be there from the start. 

After all, what other child could have possibly withstood what Dick had in his young life? Losing his parents, nearly dying in the detention center, finding himself in a massive empty mansion with a cold and absent fostering situation, discovering the secret identity of Gotham’s most elusive vigilante… and joining alongside him as the brightly clad boisterous sidekick as if he hadn’t suffered. It was truly remarkable the boy turned out as bright and carefree as he was, given his past.

Bruce stood slowly, walked over, and picked up the blanket draped on the back of the couch. He laid it carefully over Dick’s body, but his hand paused for a moment, gently lingering against the boy’s shoulder as if savoring a small connection even for a brief moment. Pennyworth watched the taller man he considered the teenager like his own son, seeing how gentle and caring he was… It had been quite a while since he ‘tucked in’ the young boy that it made his own heart flutter with nostalgia. Rising back, he turned to Alfred with an appreciative, warm smile… and nodded.

Alfred grinned back, meeting the sentiment. Mr. Wayne didn’t necessarily need to say anything to get his point across, but the butler knew what he was feeling. Bruce walked over to him and offered a soft pat on his shoulder before turning away towards his bedroom chambers.

“Goodnight, old friend.”

The white-haired man gave a small bow of his head and watched him walk away, a lightness in his gait that hadn’t been there even this morning. He took a deep breath and nodded to himself. What started off as a rather stressful night, knowing that Bruce Wayne was struggling with his emotions leading up to the mission, knowing that when Harvey Dent was involved it was not going to end in a peaceful sleep, Alfred acknowledged that something had changed throughout the evening. Something transpired either during the mission or afterwards.

Something positive.

Something healing.

“Goodnight, my dear boy.”

Chapter Text

***********************************************

“Reports of at least eight hostages, maybe more. Potential for at least a dozen or more of his lackeys. Take the roof, Robin. Stay low and in the shadows. Understand?”

“Got it.”

“And be careful.”

“Roger, boss. Same back to you!”

Batman and Robin had received a tip from Commissioner Gordon earlier that night that Two Face was holding himself up in one of the latest dwellings in Gotham to be abandoned. A shuttered multi-story deli had been reported with some suspicious activity by some concerned locals in the area, specifically with sightings of the dual-sided maniac.

The Caped Crusader and the Boy Wonder split up, the older scaling down the wall to the alley space. As Batman crept in from one of the side doors that led to a distribution center, he took one more glance upwards towards the sky and saw his teenage partner leap across to the roof to his own post. Carefully keeping to the shadows, he continued inside and made his way through the back storage areas, into the hallways, and up the stairs into the main factory area.

Batman looked around to gather his senses. The old deli was large enough inside to afford to make its own products rather than have them shipped in. Boxes upon boxes, machinery galore, a twist and tangle of materials and supplies that lay strewn about from the previous owner who never bothered to clean up. 

But inside the massive interior, surrounded by another story of gangplanks and walkways that most likely led to the other floors and the main service area where patrons would purchase their meats and cheeses, was a group of people who surely didn’t belong. 

Two Face, ten of his men (from what he could see), and only six hostages. Most likely they were employees of the deli who were in the right place at the wrong time. 

Keeping a vigil eye on the trespassers and victims, the Dark Knight heard a quiet voice in his ear.

“Batman, I’m on the roof. Just took out two guys with guns on perimeter watch. How many on your end?”

“Ten armed.” Batman whispered, “Plus only six hostages and Two Face himself. Keep out of his sight. Don’t intervene until I give the go ahead. With Harvey there’s always a second plan up his sleeves. Nothing is ever clear cut.”

“Gotcha. Where are the other hostages?”

“Not sure.”

It was true. With Two Face, nothing was ever as it seemed. There was always a back up plan, always a second meaning to his schemes, or some kind of double-edged sword to the circumstances. Even though Harvey Dent used to be Bruce Wayne’s best friend, Two Face was now one of Batman’s true enemies, one that was not to be trifled with at any cost. 

Batman ducked behind one of the machines and listened in.

“--won’t know what hit ‘em. By tomorrow, we’ll have half of Gotham eating out of our hands.”

“Literally, right? I mean, with all duh cheeses, right?”

“Shut up.”

Two Face grumbled at the idiocy from his congregation. He picked up a radio and barked.

“Parker, where’s that delivery?”

“On its way, boss. Open up the back door.”

Pointing towards the back area, the main villain gave more orders, “You two, get that bay door ready. The three of you secure these hostages over there. Bobby and Mook have the others rigged up as insurance. I don’t want anyone escaping and ratting us out to Gordon. If anyone finds out, you toast ‘em, you got it?”

“They say landlords are the real scum nowadays, but this takes the cake, right Harvey?”

The booming baritone erupted from the shadows and shocked the ground crew. The men searched around the room, their guns now drawn. They knew that voice. Two Face growled as he searched around for the source of the interruption, his fists clenched at his sides.

“Batman! How did you–”

“Do you really need to ask that question?” Batman snarked as he stepped into the light. “We’ve been at this a long time, Harvey. Don’t act so surprised when your plans don’t go accordingly.”

Cackling deviously, Two Face lifted his hands to gesture around the room, “You are correct about one thing, Batman. We have been at this a long time. Which means you shouldn’t be surprised when I do something like this! ”

Immediately, a flurry of gunfire erupted around them. Batman took to the side quickly to duck to avoid anything hitting him. Taking cover behind a stack of boxes, he gritted his teeth against the rain of fire. Bullets came from each side, prohibiting the caped hero from making a quick escape in any direction. When he tried to rationalize a way out, another lighter voice came from above.

“Hey what gives! No one thought to send me an invite to the party?”

Three men paused their rounds to stare up at the ceiling. Amidst the gunfire, Robin had taken to shattering through the ceiling. With a whoop he landed square on one of the men’s heads and instantly round-kicked two others. When the rest of them caught up to what was happening, they trained their weapons on the teenager and let loose.

“Yikes! How rude!”

Taking cover quickly behind more random bakery machinery, Robin ground to a halt and ducked. Looking over he saw his partner shifting his stance and pulling out a batarang, motioning for him to do the same. The Dynamic Duo mimicked each other, simultaneously wound up, and threw their weapons at the ceiling, sending part of the room into darkness with two explosive pops.

“Argh!” Two Face shouted, “Take them out! What are you waiting for?!”

More gunfire ricocheted around the area, pinging left and right. They thought they were getting closer to the Dark Knight and the Boy Wonder: what they were getting close to was a storage box of propane tanks used for torching and toasting desserts. With the smallest puncture, it blazed up and chain reacted with others, sending half the building into an immediate fireball.

The explosion knocked everyone off their feet, including the heroes who had been taking cover. However, when the blast settled down, Batman and Robin stared wide-eyed at the engulfed section of the restaurant’s back room. Heat began to fill the room in an instant.

“Let’s get outta here!” yelled one of Two Face’s goons, not thinking twice about making a run for it. Others followed. Even Harvey Dent didn’t bother with a second look; he also snagged the opportunity to make his escape. 

“Robin! We need to get the hostages out! Six are here but there are more elsewhere.” Batman stood up and pointed towards the flames that began to climb the walls erratically.

The Boy Wonder nodded back, already on the move, “You got it!”

Without hesitation, Batman and Robin took to the task of trying to save the six nearest hostages as quickly as they could to safety with the instructions to call the police. In order to find where the other hostages were kept, the duo tried to make their way to the front of the building. That was most likely where they were held.

However, the raging inferno that had quickly spread was becoming difficult. Batman and Robin coughed and hacked as they made their way through. Robin even suggested some new tactic.

“We can split up and find them faster.”

Batman shook his head at the teenager, “Too dangerous. We stay together.”

Trust in Robin’s ability to do the right thing wasn’t the issue: trust in a rickety old building filled with flammable items galore that should have been condemned years ago was.

Before the red and green hero argued back, he heard voices. Pointing down the one hall, he yelled out their location.

“I hear someone! That way!”

Hot on his heels, Batman followed after his partner. The smoke was becoming alarming, its blanket thickening the air like soup you didn’t want to eat. A few moments later, the duo came to a section of the building most likely used for packing orders. It was a small room, but large enough for breathing room. And in the middle of the room were the remaining three hostages surrounded by flames.

“Everyone okay?” Batman asked one man he helped untie. The elderly man coughed and nodded as he rubbed his wrists.

“Y-yeah, we’re fine.” But then he looked up to the hero, alarmed, “But the upstairs is full of people!”

“They’re trapped! You have to save them!” Added the woman, possibly his wife. Both looked to be outfitted in professional attire, most likely the business owners.

“What do you mean there’s people upstairs?” Robin questioned, untying the third man, pulling his gag out of his mouth.

The third man, a younger man, coughed and strained to speak, “We sublet the upstairs five floors to tenants. Doubles our income.”

Yup… The upstairs floors doubled as an apartment complex. Of course it did, thought Batman as he glared towards the stairway leading to the rest of the massive multi-story building. He figured it made sense for Two Face: take over the business venture and earn capital legitimately and also double dip as the new landlord for the building. Perfect two-part scheme.

“We’ll get them out, don’t worry.” Robin quieted them down, pointing towards the front, “Just get out and call 911!”

The three captives nodded and did what they were told, not wasting any more precious moments holed up in a burning building. When they were out, Robin looked back and saw Batman was already racing down to the stairs. Taking off after, the boy easily caught up to him. Together, they climbed to the next floor. The old materials in the building aided the fire in engulfing the walls quickly, the first floor being nearly entirely washed with heat. Even the second and third floors were feeling its burden. Thankfully, the fourth and fifth floors still had yet to be touched with flames, but smothered with smoke all the same.

At least until a resident’s oxygen tank – discovered in the fire department’s investigation later on– chose to be the first thing on the third floor to erupt, bringing the total number of affected stories to all of them.

Robin and Batman were blown back by the blast, thrown into the nearby wall. Slumping to the floor, they groaned and tried to gather themselves.

“You okay?” Batman grunted and saw to his partner. Robin nodded, his teeth gritted from the discomfort of being slammed into the wall.

“Yeah, I’m good…”

Before long, Batman and Robin worked in tandem to gather all the residents from the upper floors. Two small families breathed fresh air thanks to the Dynamic Duo as they settled out on the pavement that had since been littered with emergency vehicles and law enforcement. Checking one final round on the upper fourth floor in the inferno, Batman made the executive decision that they were finished. The smoke and the heat were getting to them, their vision becoming hazy and their lungs burning from the chemicals in the air.

“Time to go! Everyone’s out!”

However, their relief was short-lived when Robin’s ears perked up at a noise. It was muffled by the roaring of the wood creaking around them, but distinct. The slits of his mask widened when he gaped back his partner, pointing down the hall covered with flames.

“Batman! I hear something! Sounds like someone crying!”

Sure enough, Batman listened in and heard it, too. Taking off, the duo shot out down the hall, careful to not singe themselves anymore than they already had. Covered with scorch marks and breathing heavily through the thick smoke, the Dark Knight and Boy Wonder were seriously hoping they weren’t hearing phantom noises. The smoke inhalation was playing too hard with their lungs, and their orientation. 

But no. It was real. 

In fact, so was the gaping hole in the flooring. And the ceiling. 

But more important than that was staring back at them across the chasm that had exposed a variety of beams from above and two open stories below: a small boy hugging the door frame. The brunette boy gawked back at them, green eyes wide with fear, and couldn't be more than eight years old. Terror and fright etched on to his face, thus mirroring in the hero’s, as well.

“Batman! Look!” Robin pointed at the boy who had been yelling and crying, tears rolling down his red and sooty cheeks, “We have to get to him!”

The older hero looked around, his lungs burning. Both Robin and Batman were coughing relentlessly as the flames and smoke filled the air. Batman tried to find a way over, but there was nothing in the exposed beams, supporting pipes, or woodworking that could hold his weight. Not even that, but the older hero’s grapnel had been fried recently on the three floors below, rendering it completely useless. 

“My grapnel is useless, use yours.”

“Sorry…” Robin apologized with a grimace, “I-I don’t know where mine is. It fell off somewhere.”

Batman was frustrated, but he didn’t argue otherwise. Looking back at the scared and trapped little boy he tried to work through their options, to engineer a solution in his mind, but he couldn’t help the helpless sinking in his gut.

“Going around would take too long. We need to figure out a better way.”

Robin scanned the area, as well, studying the mangled scene of exposed wiring and beams and bars ahead from the open ceiling that lost its paneling. Pipes and cords hung precariously, dangling every which way. In fact, if he followed the pattern, he discovered they could lead him right to…

He had his answer.

“Here, hold this.”

Batman looked down when a weight pressed in his hand. Holding it up, he saw it was Robin’s cape. Not even that, but Robin had taken several steps back, tracing backwards down the hall and avoiding downed barriers and fallen beams in addition to the flames. 

“What are you doing?”

A deep look of determination crossed Robin’s youthful but soot-covered face as he stretched his arms around mid-cough. Stating the obvious like it was an easy task for him, he gestured out to the open space still coated with heat and danger.

“I can swing from those pipes and get to him.”

“Are you crazy?” Batman demanded in a growl, “Absolutely not!”

“I’m light enough to cross.” The Boy Wonder argued factually, his face hard set with assurance he was capable. “I’ll swing over and snatch him, no problem.”

“Robin, no!”

“Batman, he can’t wait.” The young boy shouted back with more urgency, crouching low and preparing to run. “I got this! Just trust me, okay?”

“You can fall!”

“I won’t!” Robin stood back up. Both men were coughing and hacking, but it didn’t stop their sheer will and determination to do the right thing. The boy glared at his boss, daring him to stop him as he ticked on his fingers how right he was, “You’re too heavy; those pipes won’t hold you. Besides, our grapnels are trashed so we can’t even get over there with them. You said it yourself that going around would take too long, that we need to find a better way. This is the better way! The only way! You have to trust me!”

Batman stared at his boy. Really stared at him. He saw the pure adrenaline coursing through him, the desire to do death-defying stunts part of his persona. However, he was a hero. A true hero that did right by people no matter the cost. 

That scared him the most.

But, he also saw that there really was no other way to get to the boy quickly and safely who was still crying for help. Taking one look back to the vocally frightened boy, and back to his own in red and green, Batman resigned to allowing his partner to do what he did best. The older man exhaled heavily amidst his coughing and nodded.

“Be careful.”

Robin smirked only briefly before locking his jaw and preparing his muscles for the jump. Bouncing on his toes, he knew how to adjust his speed and his arc, then strategized the best way to leap and fly. So when the calculations were finalized in his brain, Robin sprung free and bolted… and jumped.

Batman held his breath.

Within a half a second, Robin snagged a hold on the first pipe. Twisting once, he flew to the other one nearby, grabbing a hold with one hand before leaping upside down to the next one just a few feet higher. The acrobat recalculated and adjusted his momentum, bringing his leaner frame twisting and flipping down to a couple other bars, only cracking one of them – Batman only suffered a minor heart attack– before finally giving himself one last hefty push to fly forward and land in a crouch next to the frightened little boy on the other side.

If Batman’s relieved exhale were any heavier he could have blown out the entire building fire. 

Even though his own eyes and lungs were burning from the exertion of flinging himself through a scorching open space, Robin welcomed the boy who immediately bear hugged him the second the hero was stable.

The red and green hero held the boy tightly and asked about his condition as best he could while coughing severely.

“Are you okay?”

The boy nodded, still clutching to the older teen like a lifeline, coughing and wheezing heavily. He looked okay, for the most part, but Robin wanted to make sure he didn’t need to be cautious of any injuries.

“What’s your name?”

“Ch-Charlie.”

“Are you hurt?”

The boy shook his head ‘no’ and held on to Robin’s cape tighter, tears stinging his eyes. 

“I-I want m-mom a-and dad.”

Charlie was scared, for sure, Robin understood that. And being away from his parents wasn’t helping any of it. The hero coughed and secured him tighter, half-standing and trying to reassure the hopefully uninjured boy. 

“Okay, Charlie. Just hang on, I’m going to get you out of here. We’ll find your parents.”

Robin tiredly yet reassuringly turned back to his partner now a good twenty feet away and raised him a thumbs up. Batman was now more visibly relaxed, but still anxious about his boy’s antics.

“There’s stairs down here, we’ll meet you outside.”

“Be careful!” Batman shouted back. He watched as Robin stumbled once when he picked up the distraught boy in his arms and disappeared down the other hall and into the stairwell. Batman knew there was nothing he could do for them now, so he turned around and high-tailed it down the opposite way to make it outside. 

Moments later, traversing through thick smoke and flames across the hallway, overturned debris and tables, then down several more stories, the Caped Crusader finally felt the cool refreshing kick of the open air, inhaling it immediately. Still hacking and coughing, however, Batman stood tall and searched around for any signs of–

“Batman! There you are!”

Commissioner James Gordon ran up to him, bullhorn in hand. He looked concerned and frazzled, but still kept his professional exterior.

Batman nodded, still wheezing and gasping from the smoky interior, looking every bit as disheveled as he felt. However, he didn’t answer the older man right away; his eyes were still trained wildly on the burning building.

“We think we got everyone out.” Gordon informed him, coming closer, “Did you see anyone else on your end?”

Still no sign of Robin.

The Commissioner noticed the smoke-covered hero seemed distracted, half coughing– half pacing back and forth, his eyes darting everywhere around the building. It was enough to make the officer nervously curious.

“Batman? Are you–”

“Did Robin come out yet?!”

Blinking at the abrupt question that was heightened with worry and fear, Gordon startled. He had not seen the Boy Wonder. In fact, law enforcement hadn’t even shown up until just after the building had gone up in flames: the Dynamic Duo was already inside. Swearing under his breath, he immediately matched Batman’s energy, keeping vigilant eyes peeled for any sight of the red and green teen.

Suddenly, a crash came from above.

Glass broke free from its frame, protruding outward in a shower cascading down five stories. Batman and Gordon, and some of the others around, whirled in its direction and watched with bated breath for any sign of anything. The only thing that jumped out of the windows was more flames. Until…

A line.

Then, a ball of red and green leapt out of the window attached to the grapnel that secured itself on a nearby tree. Another smaller bundle of arms and legs attached to the figure’s torso. As quick as a whip, mid-fall, Robin used his athletic abilities to adjust his soaring free fall to glide into a swift upflow of grace – straight into the side of a news van.

Luckily, the young hero had enough foresight to turn his body to take the brunt of the impact, shielding the rescued child in his clutches to avoid injuries. However, at the risk of his own self-preservation, Robin’s back collided with the van with such force: the impact elicited a loud, sharp yelp from his throat and a protesting moan from the metal vehicle as it nearly toppled. After the sudden jolting halt, Robin released the grapnel and dropped down onto his butt.

“ Robin!”

A manically worried Batman, followed by Gordon, sprinted over to the young downed hero who was awkwardly struggling to catch his breath.

The boy, though, shot straight up in awe at his rescuer. Doe eyes widened at the obviously injured caped hero.

“W-wow… That wa-as– * cough cough * –s-so cool!”

“A-are you…” Robin coughed through his pain, “A-are you okay?”

The boy nodded.

The Boy Wonder gave a half-smirk, hoping to put the kid at ease. But not even waiting for any further remarks about how sweet that “landing” was, the rescued kid stood up and raced out towards the police officers, leaving the hero to slowly grunt and grit his teeth. His legs were still splayed out in front of him as his head dangled.

The small body was swiftly replaced by a larger shadow looming over him. Strong hands grasped his shoulders, holding him steady as he hacked and snorted, every breath painful.

“Robin?” Batman peered into his face, supremely worried as he sought out any injuries. “Are you alright!?”

Robin nodded again, his lungs aching with smoke. He was covered with soot and smoke, bits and pieces of glass fell from his hair, and he had a small gash across his arm that was bleeding worse than it really was. 

“Uh– *cough cough* Uh huh...” 

Then he lifted his hand and showed the man the missing piece of equipment, unable to help the crooked grin from spreading on his blackened and bruised face.

“F-found it…”

Batman was too relieved to care about the grapnel… His shoulders visibly relaxed as he let out a shaky exhale and helped the boy stand. Carefully, unsteadily, Robin allowed himself to be guided upright with only a few tremors and winces of pain from how hard his back slammed into the news van. Speaking of, when the boy rotated and saw the sizable dent he caused in the side of the vehicle, he grimaced apologetically to the camera crew it belonged to.

“Heh heh… Oops… My bad.”

Suddenly, a cry rang out, shifting their attention from the auto damage to the other side of the street... 

The small boy, Charlie, was crying. Screaming. Wailing.

“Mooooom! Daaaaad! Where are you!?”

Charlie was being held back by Gordon and another officer. It was obvious the boy was trying to get back inside, frantically calling out for his parents over and over again.

A sinking feeling hit both heroes.

“Oh no…” Robin whispered when he realized what was going on, “Batman, they’re… th-they’re probably still inside!” He gasped and coughed, his wide eyes on the building, then back to his guardian, “W-we have to go get them! We have to–”

Just as the words left his mouth another big explosion rocked the building, sending people flying back and to the ground that were close enough to the heat. Debris cascaded everywhere, beams and fireballs rained down. Everyone nearby within the vicinity took cover, protecting themselves and others from the blast. It wasn’t enough to take down the building, but it was enough to ensure no one was going back inside… ever…

Batman stood up and removed his cape and protective grasp of Robin. When he and the teenage hero returned their eyes to gawk at the destroyed residence, they couldn’t stop the absolute shock from registering on their faces. The wreckage burning to a crisp was beyond repair. However, even more so than the mangled mess of wood, beams, and brick, there was one thing that was utterly destroyed in more ways than one…

The boy… Charlie… broke down and cried.

He knew his parents were gone.

****

An hour later, the Dynamic Duo was still on scene, remaining to wrap up any loose ends and give testimony of what they witnessed to officers, helping with any clean up. 

But mostly– at least to Robin– to watch over Charlie.

Batman had just finished speaking with Gordon at length about the failed plan Two Face had cooked up. He then turned and walked back over to his partner who was stoically standing by, his black and yellow cape that had been returned to him surrounding and concealing his ripped up uniform like a shroud. Robin’s face was covered in soot and smoke, even a bruise or two formed on his cheek. The scratch on his arm required nothing other than a bandage, thankfully. Other than his injured back and a nasty headache from the sudden stop in momentum, he was fairly fine. 

However, the older hero could tell his young partner’s focus wasn’t on himself or even the building… He could tell the injured teen couldn’t tear his eyes away from the little boy.

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

The red and green hero’s lips pursed, his apt attention still not on anything other than the smaller child. A croaking whisper echoed from his throat, aching and uncertain.

“He… He lost his parents.”

It was a statement… They didn’t even have to question it. They knew they were gone…

“Wh-what’s going to happen to him? I-I mean… D-does he… Does he have anyone ?” 

Does he have anyone?

Instantly, Batman was transported back to another time in his own past. The very night that changed Dick Grayson’s – and Bruce Wayne’s– life forever. Permanently altered in the blink of an eye. Never to be the same in more ways than one.

Does he have anyone?

It was the same question the billionaire playboy asked of the Commissioner as the small acrobat sat huddled up off to the side, silently crying to himself. It was the same thought he posed and wondered right before he made the decision to want to take him in. If not for the stint in the juvenile detention center, the boy would have spent his first night without his parents in a glamorous Manor.

And now? Dick was having the same thoughts about Charlie.

Bruce could tell the tragedy was hitting the teen hard. He knew he saw himself in the boy the same way he saw himself in Dick. Their experiences were very similar, very comparable. Losing parents at a young age is traumatic enough, but having them harshly ripped away from you in the blink of an eye makes it worse. The older hero closed his eyes and deflated, knowing there wasn’t much he could say…

After a few silent heavy minutes, Batman rested his hand on Robin’s shoulder, gently guiding him back to his reality despite the torment he knew was rolling in his heart.

“Come on… It’s time to go home.”

At first, Robin didn’t move at the subdued baritone. His agonizingly empathetic gaze was still on Charlie who was being seen by paramedics, still crying and bawling, practically inconsolable. But, with one more quick squeeze, the red and green hero’s eyes lifted to his guardian’s. Batman was affected, as well, but he had to be strong for his own boy.

Robin gulped, tightened his lips, nodded… and followed without a word.

The tension during the ride home was thick the entire time. Anxious energy filled the air, their minds both on the disaster they just dealt with. But Batman made sure to keep an eye on his young partner every so often to make sure he wasn’t lost in his own thoughts too much… One look at him and he knew Dick’s mind was on another planet, unresponsive to the world around him… He knew his mind was on Charlie.

When the Batmobile shut off in the cave and they exited the vehicle, Dick didn’t even bother to stick around for anything else. He didn’t bother to wait for any debriefing or discussion about the mission or even for Alfred or Bruce to look over any injuries. And Bruce didn’t force him.

“I’m gonna shower…”

Batman heard the boy’s incredible heartache, the mumbled declaration so soft and miserable… He watched Dick walk away without another word towards the locker room in the cave, knowing he didn’t need to say anything… What could he say?

“Is everything okay, Master Bruce?”

The billionaire exhaled heavily, his shoulders loaded with an emotional teenager’s mental baggage. Ripping off his cowl, he lifted his sad eyes over to his butler. Alfred saw the inner turmoil settled in, even as he gave one last glance over his shoulders in Dick’s direction before turning back.

“There was a fire… A little boy’s parents died tonight.”

There was no need to beat around the bush. No need to sugar coat anything. The situation was loaded enough.

“Oh dear…”  Alfred held his heart as it went out to both of them and the little boy. He also put two and two together enough to inquire further, “How is Master Dick?”

Rubbing a tired shaky hand through his hair, Bruce walked over to the computer and plopped down.

“He’s… He’s affected.”

“I would have no doubt of the matter.” Then Alfred posed another question, “And you, sir? How are you handling this horrible situation?”

The billionaire coughed a few times, expelling remnants of the lingering smoke in his lungs. Rubbing his eyes harshly with the heels of his palms, he pictured the entire night and what it meant to him.

“I’m fine, Alfred. If anything, it makes me think about Dick, not myself.”

“As I’m sure it does, given your similar circumstances. Well then, we will just have to take extra care to support the poor lad after such an ordeal. At Master Dick’s young age I am certain he’s reliving his own traumatic past.”

Richard Grayson, not even being a decade removed from his own parents’ deaths, was still very fresh to the memories that to this day occasionally gave him nightmares. It had only been six years since John and Mary Grayson fell to their deaths. Six years of living in the Manor without them. 

Nearly an hour later Dick finally emerged from the showers. Bruce knew he was taking an exceedingly long time to clean himself, but he also knew not to push. He knew the teen needed some time to himself… So when Dick walked out of the locker room, dressed in his sweats and t-shirt, Bruce observed how worn down he looked. His stride was off, tight. Worry lines pinched his brow. His dimples were pulled into a frown. It was obvious he was hurting, both physically and emotionally. Dick wasn’t one to necessarily hide his emotions on a regular day, but his gaunt and haunted appearance struck the billionaire in the heart.

“You okay?”

Grayson came closer to the computer area, his head still down and his eyes still distant. He hugged himself and shrugged, only wincing once when his back ached, his voice meek and occupied.

“Yeah…” But that half-confident fib only lasted a couple seconds… He shook his head when he realized he wasn’t. “No… No I’m not…” Dick’s broken blues turned up and focused on his guardian, his pleading gaze questioning. “Bruce, w-what’s gonna happen to Charlie? He… H-he just lost his parents. We know what that’s like…”

Right into the meat of the matter…

Bruce inhaled deeply, preparing to have this conversation. It was obvious what Dick was getting at… He nodded slowly to agree, knowing it was hitting Dick pretty hard; maybe even harder than he originally thought. It was obvious this fatal fire shook him more than any other mission. Then, the teen started to get worked up, his bloodshot weary eyes now searching, an idea taking root.

“What if… W-what if we take him in?”

Uh oh.

Bruce Wayne studied the boy’s puppy dog eyes. The pleading hopeful blue beams tried to break his guardian’s will, but it wasn’t enough. Solemnly shaking his head to negate that idea, he carefully shot it down as easily as he could.

“I don’t think we can do that, Dick.”

Dick didn’t appreciate that response.

“W-why not? Why can’t we? I mean, you took me in after my parents died. We can do the same for him.”

The older man rubbed a tired hand across his face and stood up, walking over to the overeager young boy. He tried to soften his voice, tried to show sympathy for his feelings. But he also had to face reality.

“It’s not that simple, Dick.”

“But it is! It is that simple, Bruce! A little boy just watched his parents die, right in front of him! Okay yeah sure they were somewhere else in the building and not technically in front of him, but that’s not the point! They’re dead ! He has no one! Just like me when you took me in!”

Dick Grayson at this point was starting to get worked up and agitated, kicking up and exacerbating his coughing again. Bruce again tried to calm him down without appearing uncaring.

“Dick… It’s not exactly the same thing. It’s–”

“It’s totally the same! I-I mean, why not this kid, huh? Why can’t you take him in?!” He puffed out his chest defiantly, “If you don’t want to, then…  then what if I adopt him?!”

An incredulous yet amused look crossed the older man’s face. He thought it was adorably heartwarming that his ward would make that suggestion, so he didn’t want to shoot it down rudely. Even Alfred off to the side had to hide his soft smile at Dick’s kind-hearted yet immature proposal. Bruce’s face warmed without being too obvious as he shook his head.

“You can’t adopt a 7-year-old, Dick, you’re only 15.”

“And you were like 26 when I was 9, what’s the difference?!” Dick started to breathe heavier, his eyes filling with empathy as he tried to plead his case. Even his voice began to crack. “Wh-what made me so special and this kid not special, huh? Why can’t we care for him the way you cared for me?” 

Bruce stared at him. All he could do was stare. There was so much emotion in the smaller boy’s eyes. So much hurt, so much will to do the right thing, so much drive to help others. It was hard seeing him so agitated and distressed. But Bruce knew this wasn’t going to end well… for Dick. The older man hung his head and closed his eyes, gathering his senses and his own emotions before responding, but he never got the chance. Dick spoke up first.

“You know, it’s not fair when kids don’t get to pick and choose when their parents die but other people can pick and choose when they’re worth caring for…”

That hurt.

Bruce didn’t even bother to lift his head as Dick stormed away. He heard the snide attitude in his tone, the way he felt pathetically insulted and injured. The fire behind his words stabbed Wayne in the heart. Alfred Pennyworth clutched at his, sympathizing with both of his charges.

Only when the footsteps faded away up the steps into the Manor did he lift his head and rub his eyes… He let out another exhausted puff, exasperated and conflicted over the situation… He had tried to make it better. He had tried to reason with Dick, but it only made it worse… Bruce didn’t know what else to say. What else could he say? Yes, Bruce felt something of himself in Dick as he watched the acrobat’s parents die, saw his own traumatic past in the young boy’s eyes, and admittedly took him in instantaneously, without really thinking much about it. The decision to take care of Richard John Grayson was impulsive. Built completely on emotion and shared similar emotional damage. 

But now?

Being older and somewhat wiser Bruce Wayne knew he couldn’t just take in every child who lost his parents. He couldn’t just foster everyone. He knew that… But Dick did not… 

****

A day had passed and Dick still had yet to speak to Bruce. He skipped breakfast, lunch, and dinner with his guardian. Granted, Alfred had informed Bruce the young boy had at least snuck out some snacks from the kitchen without his awareness, so the positive take on it was that he was eating.

The next evening, Bruce walked around the Manor grounds in search of the young acrobat who had disappeared every chance he could get, avoiding his foster guardian around any corner. After a while, he finally spotted the boy… high in a tree on the far end of the grounds. 

The billionaire walked over as calmly as he could. Staring up at the boy, who had not moved, he chose to climb the tree carefully and sit himself next to Dick. At first, Bruce didn’t say anything… he couldn’t. He could tell the boy was still hurting: he could tell he tried to wipe his eyes to clear the tears, but his face was still red and marred by emotion.

Silence loomed between the two. Neither one spoke for a while. Dick didn’t make any attempt to move away, and Bruce didn’t make any move to get closer. They respected their space and their distance as well as their nearness… 

After nearly five minutes of quiet, Bruce cleared his throat. 

“Charlie is moving in with his aunt and uncle from Connecticut.” 

Dick took in the rumbling words, then gave a slow side-glance towards his guardian. Bruce saw his subtle attention and continued.

“Gordon contacted the family members last night when they, well…” He didn’t want to say ‘identified the bodies’...  “They’re on their way.” 

Dick looked back at the sunset ahead of him and hung his head. His shoulders tightened, his knees pulled in a little closer, but he didn’t say a word in response. Bruce tried to break the tension… He took a deep breath to steady his nerves and released it slowly. He didn’t want to say anything that could be misconstrued as heartless, so he chose his words wisely.

“It’s hard… when you want to fix everything.”

The teens’s lip twitched into a fine line and his breath hitched almost imperceptibly even though he was trying not to react emotionally. Bruce calmly pressed on, his hands clasped between his knees. 

“I know you want to help him. But, you know, wanting to help someone isn’t the same as knowing what’s best for them.”

Dick’s hands balled into fists, his gaze fired at the sunset. His tone was sharp and tight, even accusatory.

“And you think leaving him is what’s best?”

“I think giving him a stable home is what’s best.” Bruce answered, unfazed. “He’ll be with his family, not strangers. He’s moving in with people who love him and can give him a normal life.”

“Yeah, because I’ve seen what happens when you move in with strangers...”

Bruce sighed, his patience unwavering, even at the sarcastic dry even snide observation. He didn’t want to take offense to it, and he knew Dick meant no offense. At least he’d hoped not. The boy was hurting. He was emotional and prone to outbursts. Plus, he was a typical teen who historically rarely thought twice before acting or speaking. The older man knew this entire situation was a recipe for disaster if one didn’t approach it with caution and consideration and as much level-headed attitude as he could muster.

“You think taking him in is the right call. And maybe if circumstances were different, I’d agree. But Dick… the choices we make for people, they… they shape them. And when we make those choices from a place of pain we don’t always see the consequences.” Bruce felt the pressure mounting in his heart, “It’s not something you can just decide on a whim. It’s something you have to truly think through. This is another life you’d– we’d – be responsible for. That’s a big undertaking. It’ll change your life in more ways than you could ever imagine.”

Dick swallowed hard, but his shoulders were trembling. Bruce softened his tone so he didn’t come across as overbearing or condescending. The last thing he wanted to sound like right now was an authority figure on a lecture-high. 

“I just don’t want you to regret making a decision you weren’t ready for, no matter how noble your intentions. Do you understand?”

And then Dick, his voice so meek and pained, nearly broke the billionaire with his follow-up:

“Do you regret taking me in?”

Bruce sat up straighter and blinked at the soft but pointed question. His mouth opened with surprise. Dick’s voice might have been small, even cracked a bit, but his intention screamed from the mountain. Burning, raw blue eyes stared over at him, reaching into his soul, expecting– no, demanding– a response. Without hesitation, Wayne shook his head and held firm.

“Never, Dick. Not once.”

“Then… why would you regret taking in Charlie?”

Bruce really wasn’t sure where he was going with this discussion, and the double standard Dick pointed out flawlessly made him question everything. The boy next to him was smarter than he ever gave him credit for… and he gave him credit a lot. The billionaire took another long, deep breath, one that held much weight and stress, and let it out heavily. Staring out past the teen’s form, Bruce tried to wrack his brain for something that made sense because deep down he knew he wasn’t going to get out of this hypocrisy. Pursing his lips and refocusing his words, he ran fingers through his hair, really doing his best to control his thoughts and his words. This was proving to be one of the most difficult conversations he’d ever had with the boy… and that said a lot.

The ‘birds and the bees’ was nothing compared to this.

“Look, Dick, I can’t exactly explain why I took you in. At least, maybe not in a rational or clear-cut way to be able to give you closure, or my emotions justice. When I saw you up on that platform, crying, screaming, I… I felt something… It was as if I was reliving my own parents’ deaths all over again. It wasn’t a good feeling… It… It tore me apart, and…”

Wayne watched the younger teen barely react other than a narrowing of his eyes as if his knees harmed him.

“And when I found out you were sent to that hell hole of a detention facility rather than an orphanage, I…I snapped. I just couldn’t believe they did that to you. After everything you had just lived through, suffered through, they had the nerve to go and do that and make you suffer again with–”

He cut himself off… Dick didn’t need to be reminded of what he endured. He didn’t need to be refreshed on the torment, both emotional and physical, he suffered through at the hands of the fellow inmates at the JDC. He knew all too well…

Bruce’s fists clenched as visions of the bruised and broken boy who had been so wronged swarmed his vision. The poor boy who had just watched his parents die was sent uncaringly into the nastiest facility youth could face because he was deemed a trouble-maker… Really? The true reason was because of an unjust stereotype of circus-folk. That’s all… However, Bruce tried to calm himself down… He took a steadying, shaky breath, cleared his throat, and looked back at his hands that had white-knuckled in his internal rage.

If he’d had looked at his ward instead, he would have seen a tear fall.

“But… When I made the decision to bring you home with me, and when I put things in motion to make that happen, I’ll be honest and admit I didn’t exactly think it through. I was… I was emotional.” He felt red in the face and a pinch in his heart when he heard his own admission of impulsive actions out loud. “And I know that these words right now might not make you feel any better, but it’s the truth. A lot of people asked me if I was doing the right thing and I, without hesitating, said absolutely. I couldn’t rationalize it in any normal sense, but I knew what I was doing was right in my heart. Now… I’ll be the first to acknowledge that I wasn’t exactly parental material .”

The man continued as if he didn’t hear the soft dry humorous snort, even if he did…

“We’ve had our fair share of rough patches as we got to know each other, Dick,” Bruce acknowledged dryly,  “and I know I messed up a lot in our first few years, not just as your guardian but your partner. Hell, I still don't think I have everything down and, to be honest, I don’t know if I ever will. Being a parent… or a foster parent… or a guardian… is no easy feat. I’ve made you angry at me more times than I can count. Each night I go to bed wondering if I did right by you. If this life is the best for you.”

Bruce knew that Dick was listening. His ears were perked and his body language was closed off, but he was definitely paying attention to what the older man was saying.

“Anyway, my point is… I fully understand why you want to do what you want to do. You felt something in Charlie’s loss. You saw another little boy ripped away from his parents at a young age, suffering such a terrible trauma that not many understand. But you do.” He was looking hard at the boy now, hoping he would turn his head and look at him, “You do understand what it’s like… And you also know that I understand what it’s like…” He gave a small hopeful smile, “You have a big heart, Dick. Probably the biggest I’ve ever seen. And when you have a heart as big as yours, you want to make things right. You want to stop someone from feeling the same pain you did… I get it. I do. We just…” His smile turned down. “...can’t…”

He didn’t need to go into the logistics of it being illegal for a minor to adopt another minor: he figured Dick at least would be able to comprehend that. He was trying to get into the real reasoning why Bruce couldn’t adopt the boy… or at least, wouldn’t.

Dick was still quiet after Bruce finished his monologue… His body was still stiff, still hesitant and closed off. Then, after a few moments, the older man noticed a trembling in the smaller shoulders. The acrobat sniffled and whispered brokenly.

“I just feel sorry for him…”

Bruce looked over at Dick, whose small whimper hurt his heart. He saw the sunset reflecting in the boy’s watery eyes and knew he was feeling for the younger boy. Dick truly did have a heart of gold, he had come to discover. A heart of gold that was easily broken. He knew his young boy was hurting, more so at being helpless than anything else… Bruce sighed again and nodded.

“I know… I do too.”

They sat in silence for another bit longer… Contemplative, deep, agonizing silence. Neither one knew what to do or say. They just sat there thinking about all the times they met someone who went through trauma and they wanted to do something about it. Dick couldn’t explain why he felt what he felt and Bruce couldn’t explain why one boy was okay to take in and another wasn’t... Dick pondered everything that had happened with the young boy and everything his guardian had confessed, and Bruce felt like he just made things a whole lot worse. He tried to say his peace and make sense of it all, but he ended up being more confused in the long run.

“Why is life so hard?”

Wayne turned and their eyes met. He could see the emotion in Dick’s bloodshot blues: the hope, the doubt, the crushing guilt, all of it. He wished he had the perfect thing to say, some reassurance that would make this easier. But he didn’t. Instead, Bruce placed a comforting hand on his boy’s shoulder and said the only thing that was true.

“Sometimes, there are no happy endings. No perfect explanations. Sometimes… life just is.”

Dick swallowed a large lump in his throat and sniffled again. He turned his gaze back toward the skyline, silent but understanding in his own way. Bruce, as supportive as he could be, remained beside him, his hand still on his shoulder, watching Gotham’s lights flicker in the distance. They didn’t say anything else. 

They didn’t need to.

All they knew was that sometimes you can’t break the cycle of pain. Sometimes bad things happen in life that you can’t do anything about.

Sometimes life just is… and you just have to be.

Chapter Text

“Zucco’s taken so much. Caused you so much pain. I couldn’t stand the thought that he might…” Batman turned for a quick glance before returning his gaze to the sunrise, his voice lower, practically cracked with emotion, “... take you, too.”

Robin stared at him. The Boy Wonder was not expecting that to be the reason he was kept in the dark when the high-rise sabotage turned around. At first, being practically shooed out of the Batmobile with little excuse or explanation other than “it’s something I have to do alone” left Dick with the implication that he just wasn’t needed… or appreciated. Instead, after all was said and done, after ignoring Batman’s orders to stay home, after tracking and tracing and hunting down the man who had murdered his parents, after being stopped from doing the worst at the last second, it turned out to be something more… Instead, the reasoning he was shunned from the mission wasn’t that his guardian was worried about the boy going in too deep or becoming too emotional, unable to control his rage for the man who had killed his parents. Instead? Bruce was worried that the man who had killed his parents could possibly kill him, too.

That was it.

Nothing else.

After scratching his neck thoughtfully, even a bit bashfully, Robin stepped forward, the heat in heart and vengeful mantra quashed… 

“Come on, partner… It’s been a long night.”

Together, cautiously because of Batman’s injured knee, they walked side by side down the pier as the sun rose over the bay. The night was finally over. And indeed it was a long night. When they arrived at Robin’s motorcycle down the way, the boy cleared his throat and stammered out apprehensively as he righted the vehicle.

“I-I’ll, uh… I-I’ll meet you back home…”

Batman watched as his boy mounted the bike and gunned the engine, riding down the pier and past the police. He watched the retreating yellow and black cape take off around another corner and disappear through the amusement park. Knowing exactly what was going through his mind and his heart, Bruce took a steadying breath and continued his hobble towards his own car. The whole time, though, his mind was full of multiple possible case scenarios of how tonight could have shaped out. It could have gone better, that’s for certain, but it also could have gone worse… much worse… For now, he was grateful things worked out the way they did. Robin was unharmed, Zucco was in custody, and that meant the world.

After a quick conversation with Gordon pertaining to the sudden reappearance from the murderous criminal that had taken the lives of the traveling acrobats many years ago – even voicing his intent to call Mr. Wayne and his ward to inform them of the news, to which the hero hummed his agreement without raising identifying suspicions–, Batman was finally back in the Batmobile. However, throughout the drive home, Bruce’s mind was anywhere but the road…

Ingrained in routine after all these years, Alfred Pennyworth was there to greet the Caped Crusader when he pulled into the cave some time later. The butler stood by, obviously concerned with whatever was happening with the mission as he was stuck inside, utterly worried about both of his charges and their whereabouts. He watched as Bruce hopped (more or less) out of the Batmobile, the vigilante’s face gaunt and exhausted, further dragged down as he wiped his face across his jaw and through his hair, a movement that slicked back his cowl off his brow. Taking another deep breath and expelling it slowly, the billionaire vigilante hobbled closer to the butler… who then saw the wooden plank bracing the injured knee before he could get a word out about the evening.

“My goodness, Master Bruce, what on Earth? Are you alright?”

He quickly rushed to Bruce’s side, aiding the younger man– who insisted he was fine, just a sprain– through the cave towards the medical wing for treatment. However, just as he realized the absence of the other important figure, Alfred glanced back over his shoulder expecting there to be another returning, as well.

“Where is Master Dick? Did you see him? Did you find him?”

Bruce snorted softly and nodded, “More like he found me… ”

“Did he now? And what, pray tell, happened when he found you? Is he alright?”

“He’s…” Wayne considered what to say, how he was to even answer that. Was Dick okay? Was he alright? Physically, yes he was unharmed, but emotionally? He cleared his throat with a slow exhale, his voice lowering as if a great weight still crushed his chest when he climbed onto the medical bed, “He’ll be okay…”

“Where is he then? Is he coming home?” Alfred assisted the injured hero once they made it to the designated area for stitches, sutures, casts, and other life-saving equipment, eliciting a small wince from the vigilante as the affected knee jostled.

Bruce nodded again and situated himself on the bed without grunting in pain too much.

“He’s coming home, yes.”

“So, he is not injured?”

“No, he’s not.”

After a few moments of quiet, as Bruce was beginning to inspect his haphazardly braced knee, pinching and poking with an attempt to locate the injury’s worst points, he felt another bout of pain… this time, over his head.

“Ow! Alfred? What the–”

“Do you have any blasted idea what you’ve done tonight? When I arrived downstairs to find that poor boy, standing alone, staring off–”

“Alfred.”

“-- as you drove away, leaving him behind for no apparent reason, I do beg your pardon but you did not see his face. He was crushed. Confused. He stormed off, barely touched his food, and scowled more than I had ever seen. In fact, one would think he was your own flesh and blood the way he brooded and sulked. Master Dick hadn’t any inkling of a clue as to why you abandoned him in the dark anymore than I did. He was frustrated and puzzled beyond belief. Yet when he discovered–”

“Alfred…”

“-- that this Billy Marin character you both had come across was none other than the wretched man that had destroyed his family all those years ago, he was absolutely livid. And incredibly hurt, might I add. Not only that, I would venture as far as to say betrayed .”

“........”

At this point, Bruce had resigned to just listening to his own surrogate father-figure berate him. Downcast eyes fell to his lap as Alfred stood over him on a rampage. Sure, the man had yelled at him once or twice or dozens of times in his life– in fact, he lost count–, so he wasn’t unaccustomed to any kind of lecture. Still, the words hurt. Was this how they saw the night? Was this how Alfred and Dick felt when he left the boy behind? Of course it was… he imagined Dick finding out on his own, the lengths he took to do his own research when he felt useless and helpless and completely side-lined. After all, Bruce didn’t offer any other explanation other than he had abruptly decided he was working alone tonight (after a four hour stakeout together) without any need to explain himself.

He messed up.

“I did my best to keep him here, sir, even so much as telling him he should do as you say, that you had his best interest in your heart, but he saw right through my attempts. Master Dick did not deserve to be cast aside by you tonight, especially when dealing with that madman he had waited nearly a decade to bring to justice. That boy at least deserved to be in the know, for God’s sake. He deserved to be trusted and appreciated and considered. You of all people, Bruce, know the importance of trust and consideration, and you of all people know that closure is just as important as justice and vengeance. So, with all that said, you bloody well better have a flawless excuse as to why you made the decisions you made tonight, young man.”

A beat went by...

“I talked with him, Alfred.”

Pennyworth scoffed and crossed his arms at the meek response, “You? Talk? In what regards? Do you mean you ‘explained yourself’ in your way that manifests as a patronizing lecture or an order rather than an honest to goodness discussion?”

Bruce sighed and rubbed his face again. This interrogation was becoming more than he wanted to handle but all the same just what he deserved. He had acted rashly, regardless of his best intentions, and he was getting laid into.

“I told him the real reason I kept him out of it…”

“And the real reason being…?”

Again, Wayne paused. He swallowed the lump in his throat and looked at his hands that fidgeted with his knee. Picturing the night’s events from beginning to end, Bruce Wayne recalled the very moment the situation shifted.

“At first, everything was going fine. We acted on a tip we were following about a local extortion crew. They showed up, albeit hours later than expected. Robin and I took care of business… However, when Paris Dolan confessed his employer was Billy Marin, that’s when things changed. I knew who he was… I knew Billy Marin was really Anthony Zucco.”

“Master Dick did not.”

“No… I never told him that. I never told him any of Zucco’s aliases. After all these years, after each hearsay tip-off led to one dead end after another, after every investigation that resulted in absolutely nothing, we come across this. Completely out of the blue. After I sent Dick to get the car, Dolan told me everything... He confirmed Zucco was back in town. For real this time. So… my first gut reaction was that if Dick got involved in the case, something would happen… That he… that Zucco could…” He paused and collected himself, his chest tight with the fear of the what-ifs and unknowns, “I… I was afraid.”

This time, Alfred softened and blinked at that admission. He remained silent for more explanation. It was not often, or at all, that the great Batman expressed any kind of fear of something. So when Bruce looked up to him with his sad, regretful blues that were tinged with anxious worry, he felt it.

“My decision to keep Dick out of it had nothing to do with a lack of trust. In fact, if there’s anyone on this planet I trust more than myself, or you, it’s him; sometimes, given the situation, even more than myself. What I couldn’t trust was myself losing control if something were to happen to him… I... I don’t know what I’d do if Zucco took Dick away from me. I…” His voice dropped, nearly breaking,”I don’t know if I could live with that pain, Alfred. So… I did what I did…”

Pennyworth took it all in. He took in the admission of guilt, not outwardly stated but insinuated all the same, and the acknowledgement of real emotional fear the young man felt at the very serious possibility that he could lose his ward… his son… to the same heartless lunatic that had murdered his parents. It all made sense in a roundabout way, the butler reasoned. Poorly executed, but well intended all the same. Alfred gave a slow nasally sigh and shook his head, the heat from his earlier outburst sputtering away. While he was disappointed in the actions taken by his first charge, he couldn’t necessarily fault him for having those thoughts.

“Bruce, while I do appreciate your honesty and candor, did you by any chance tell him any of this?”

Bruce stared off at the floor and thought back to their conversation on the pier. Yes, he had told Dick that he benched him because he was worried Zucco would take him, but only in a minimalist manner… and after the fact when he had to confront Robin before he did something unforgivable. The full explanation, his fear, his years spent searching for the murderer to help bring Dick to closure, none of that was expressed. A flush of bashful embarrassment rose on the billionaire’s cheeks.

“Not to that extent, no…”

After a few moments Bruce looked up and saw a kind empathetic smile, one that had seen too much to expect any more or less than the boy he had known since birth. The smile radiated as much warmth as the hand that laid on his shoulder.

“Then perhaps that’s what needs to be done to remedy this situation. When Master Dick comes home, I do believe you two need to have a serious talk. Hmm?”

Swallowing another lump in his throat, Wayne nodded. He knew as much, no doubt about it. The more he thought about it, as well, he became more ashamed of his actions. Not necessarily ashamed , per se, but more obtusely aware of the undertone that was implied when he brought Dick home and practically kicked him out of the Batmobile. Rationalizing how he would feel if in the same position, discovering on the Batcomputer screen the reason behind the fuss over Billy Marin’s name, Bruce started to feel nauseous… He closed his eyes and pictured the conversation he was going to have as their resident field medic collected himself and prepared for his extracurricular duties.

“Now then, let’s see to this knee, shall we? It’s amazing, given your habits, you even have any use left in the damn things. If I were a gambling man, I’d place a wager that you have less than a decade remaining with any cartilage… But then again, sir, I’m not one to judge.”

This time, Bruce did snort and quirk his eyebrow up to the man who was tending to the injury, “You? Not judge? Come now, Alfred…”

“I merely suggest.”

“You’re a terrible liar.”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night, Master Bruce…”

****

Nearly an hour later, after a solid real bracing wrapped around Bruce Wayne’s knee, he was seated back at the computer console. Typing away, the hero updated the files pertaining to mob boss Anthony Zucco. He hovered over the keyboard, index finger poised above the Enter key that would give the case closure… but he didn’t press it. Not yet.

Instead, Bruce stared at the words, at the name, letting it all settle into his chest. The night started with a simple extortion ring bust. Nothing more. But then through sheer random happenstance, the past revealed itself with a fury… The man that had taken everything from the young Flying Grayson was back, bringing pain and stress and heartache with him.

But now? Tony Zucco was in custody… Hopefully to rot in a prison cell for life.

The uncowled hero exhaled through his nose, slow, weary. His breath fogged faintly in the cool air. He sat there, hunched slightly in his sweatpants and t-shirt. However, as he sat there studying the screen, regarding the discovery and arrest, a rumbling echo grew louder down the cave’s driveway.

Robin was home.

Turning his head, Bruce saw the motorcycle roll in. The bike coasted into view on the driveway. When it came to the pad, it halted, idled for a moment, and then cut out. The clicking of the cooling engine echoed and pinged throughout the cave, but the young hero did not move. Dick’s helmet was still on as he sat stoic on the bike… his body stiff.

Still.

Unmoving.

Bruce watched Dick for a long, suspended moment. The cave immediately felt heavy and grew heavier by the moment. Tension had started to mount from the frozen figure.

Then, without declaration, Dick swung his leg off the bike. His motions were rough and sharp, unlike his naturally smooth grace. The boy ripped off his helmet and dropped carelessly to the floor in one swing. It clattered across the concrete.

Dick didn’t look at neither Bruce nor Alfred, who had also been standing by watching the ordeal unfold… In fact, his gaze was trained blankly towards the ground. He didn’t say anything, either. He just turned and stormed toward the training mats, his boots echoing with heavy footfalls across the floor, his hands clenched at his sides. A storm was brewing underneath the costume, and it was more obvious than ever.

Bruce turned in his chair, following Dick with his eyes as he approached the exercise area… specifically, the punching bag. Without warning, the boy wound up and thrust his first forward, smacking the leather with such intensity it reverberated in the caverns.

Again.

Again.

There was no warm-up. No rhythm. No technique. Just action. A raw, unmeasured outpouring of anger and pain and exhaustion that had been bubbling under the surface for years. The bag jolted on its chain with each hit, squeaking and swaying under the assault.

Bruce watched as the sloppiness grew, so much so that the teen’s cape started to snag around his ankles. Violently, Dick reached up and unbuckled his cape, whipping it aside, followed by his gloves that were mercilessly thrown away. However, his fists didn’t stop their barrage on the bag.

Dick kept going.

Punch after punch, each thwack of the bag more forceful than the last. Dick’s shoulders trembled. His breath came in ragged gasps with each powerful jab. The dim lights caught the edge of his face, exposing his rawness, even a vulnerability…

Bruce watched the whole thing… But, after sitting by long enough, he stood slowly, his knee slightly protesting as he straightened. Alfred’s eyes met his for a heartbeat, but the billionaire kept going. Silent communication honed by years.

Concern gripped Bruce’s chest as he walked forward to the training area, each step bringing him closer to the maelstrom on the mat. Dick’s fists were bloodied now, splitting at the knuckles, raw from impact. But despite the torment on his hands, he didn’t stop… almost couldn’t stop.

And then the mask came off.

Dick tore it from his face and hurled it aside. It skidded across the floor.

As Bruce came closer, he could see tears pouring freely now from his boy’s eyes, no longer shielded by the disguise. He watched Dick hit the bag again. And again.

But then… He stopped… Fists still pressed into the leather, his forehead leaned against the bag. The teen was shaking, heaving and panting. Dick’s shoulders rose and fell in broken, exhausted waves. Every part of him trembled and shivered, like an earthquake rolling through his body.

Bruce finally reached him. He was quiet, composed, and subtle, as if any sudden movement would start the beating again. Carefully, he placed a hand on Dick’s trembling shoulder, gentle and grounding…

… and in that second of contact Dick whipped around and collapsed into Bruce’s chest…

The boy threw his arms around his guardian, hitting him like a ton of bricks, nearly causing the breath to leave Bruce’s lungs from the sheer force. But he didn’t falter. Instead, his arms instinctively wrapped around his boy… holding him close, securely, safely.

And when he did, the floodgates opened.

Dick sobbed into his chest, face buried in the cotton of Bruce’s shirt, fists clutching at his back. It was the kind of sobbing that sounded like pain being torn from the soul, hoarse and ugly and deep. Years of agony, torment, uncertainty, and anguish erupted from his soul, bouncing off every wall of the cave.

Bruce just held him…. He held him like he had when Dick was a young child. The little boy who blamed himself for what had happened to his parents, for not being able to speak up and do something about the stranger in the tent, for not warning anyone when he had the chance. The little boy who was stuck carelessly in the juvenile detention center, needlessly subjected to the horrors of the criminal youth who would beat him to a pulp week after week, preventing him from even attending his own parents’ funeral. The little boy who had struck out on his own to find the madman who had murdered his parents, escaping from Wayne Manor in the middle of the night, prompting a frantic search from the Dark Knight. The little boy who tearfully asked if the pain ever went away… Because despite growing into the shell of the college student and young teen hero, inside was the little boy who lost his parents…

Bruce’s eyes closed, and he rested his chin gently to the top of Dick’s head, his hands enveloping that little boy securely around his shoulders, engulfing him against his warm, welcoming body.

They stayed like that for minutes. Ten, maybe more.

Alfred stood at a distance, wiping away his misty eyes. His heart ached watching it unfold… but it also swelled. He had told Bruce a serious talk needed to be had when the boy returned home. This was step one in the healing process…

Bruce didn’t let go. The tension that had driven Dick to pummel the heavy bag still radiated from him, but under it there was something far more fragile. When the first muffled words came against his chest, Bruce almost thought he’d imagined them.

“He killed my mom… H-he killed my dad…” Dick’s voice broke, catching on the weight of it with heavy agonizing hiccups, “… for no rea-reason !”

Bruce shut his eyes. His hand slid from Dick’s shoulder to the back of his head, palm cradling dark hair damp with sweat. “I know, son… I know.” His own chest tightened. He didn’t know how to make it better, but he knew he’d hold the boy for as long as he needed.

Then Dick’s voice changed… snapping sharp and jagged. 

“I h-hate him… I hate him!” 

The words weren’t loud, but they were raw, ripped from a place so deep that Bruce could almost see it. And they echoed from another time in their lives... A much smaller Dick, fists raining down on Tony Zucco’s chest after he had discovered his hideout during his solo venture out to find the madman, his tiny voice angrily cracking with the same words: You creep! I hate you! I hate you! The memory was like a wound Bruce had never stopped feeling.

He lowered his head, resting his cheek atop Dick’s hair, holding him tighter, fingers gently combing through the tangles. The boy’s chest heaved against him, breath hitching into half-sobs, half-panicked gasps. His grip was desperate, his fists curled in Bruce’s shirt like a lifeline. Then, after a few minutes, Dick mumbled against his chest, his words hot with shame.

“I al-almost killed h-him.”

Bruce’s hand cupped the back of his head, saying nothing, letting the boy’s voice spill.

“If y-you hadn’t stopped me, I… I w-would have… I–I could have kil–”

“No, Dick,” Bruce interrupted quietly, shaking his head. “You wouldn’t have.”

Dick jerked back, his face blotched red, eyes glassy. His breath came in short bursts as the tears flowed down his cheeks. His hands still gripped at his guardian’s shirt. 

“But I almost did! I had him! He was right there! Right there and—”

Bruce gripped his shoulders, leaning in and looking into the bloodshot blues, he spoke carefully and pointed. Steady and unshakable.

“Dick, you are not a murderer. You’re not like him. I know deep down, with every ounce of my soul, regardless of me being there or not, you would not have gone through with it.”

Grayson’s voice rose, sharp. 

“No, Bruce! Don’t you see?! I ha-hd him in my hands!” His fists raised to his chest, white knuckled with rage as his ragged hyperventilating tore through him, “I was gonna th-throw him off that pier! H-he made my parents f-fall, and I almost did the s-same to him! I… I-I…” He broke off, breath shuddering. “He could ha-have died and it would have be-been my fault! I was g-gonna… I c-could have…”

Dick spun back toward the bag and hit it again with a choked yell. He hit hard enough that his already-raw knuckles split open anew. He leaned into it, forehead pressed to the canvas, panting.

Bruce didn’t move, didn’t lecture. His chest ached watching the boy crumble like this.

Dick sniffled into the bag, struggling to catch his breath. When he spoke again, his quavering voice was aching, questioning, hurt… seeking.

“Why didn’t yo-you just tell me? After all these y-years, you knew… Wh-when I saw all those al-aliases, I realized you kn-knew where he was, who he was. All this time… Wh-why, Bruce? Why didn’t y-you just tell me it was him? Why d-didn’t you tell me you were sti-still tracking him? Why didn’t you t-tell me y-you knew ?!”

Bruce hung his head and steadied his own heartbeat… not even bothering to look up when he felt his boy’s eyes peer into him. He exhaled heavily, his eyes dimming with guilt. Dick spun and glared at his guardian, at his father-figure. Seething through his teeth, he continued his accusing interrogation.

“If y-you would have ca-caught him tonight, wi-without me knowing, h-how were you planning on telling me? How we-were you going to bre-break it to me that it happened? B-by lying that some ra-random cop caught him?! He ki-killed my parents , Bruce! You kn-knew I wanted to catch him! A-and you were going to t-take that away from m-me! Why?! ”

How could he explain himself? Dick was right. All those years, for nine years, Bruce had kept tabs on Tony Zucco and his multiple aliases. Punky Lesh, Killr Coburn, Sid the Squid, Simon Dirks… Billy Marin... He kept tabs on the murderer and didn’t tell his ward, his partner… his son… that the mob boss that had taken his parents’ lives was still roaming around causing trouble. He didn’t tell him about how he was aware of his movements to a certain extent; not so much that he was able to nab him, but that he was still alive and active in his extortion schemes. 

Knowing he had no way out, Bruce took another steadying breath and went for broke… and apologized.

“You’re right… I should have told you.”

Dick’s lungs caught, resulting in painful hiccups. He stared at his father-figure, his gaze still hardened and steady, only shaking with tears, but his ears perked when he knew there was more coming.

“In my own mind, I reasoned that if I kept you away from Zucco, kept you out of his life, kept him out of your life, that I was protecting you… sparing you from any more pain he could cause you. But I can see now that I was wrong. All I did was push you away… I was selfish and narrow-minded, and didn't think about how my decisions would hurt you…” 

Then, Bruce’s voice changed. His tone softened, lowered, and held more emotion than Dick had heard in quite a while.

“And, for the record, what I told you on the pier was true… I meant what I said. Every word. Tonight had nothing to do with trust, or respect, or your emotions… or even a deliberate act to keep you from getting the closure you deserved… Zucco took your parents from you… and I…” He swallowed a lump in his throat, feeling the stinging in his eyes, “I was afraid he’d take you from me. Truth be told…” His voice grew quieter, breaking in parts, “…I don’t know what I’d do if I ever lost you.”

Bruce lifted his head and looked at his boy… When their eyes connected, his blues that had already welled shone in the spotlight above, and his heart caught in his throat.

“I’m sorry, Dick.”

Dick held his gaze, heard the sincerity there, felt the weight of the apology… and ached when he absorbed the truth. Granted, he heard that explanation, however short, on the pier, but hearing it now, again, seeing the pain etched in his guardian’s face when he exposed his emotions, hearing the tenderness in his apology… It was almost too much to take. His resolve crumpled slightly as he shut his eyes and ducked his head, trying to breathe through the leftover sobs and trembling lips, hiccups shaking him with every breath…

And then, without another word, Dick stepped over and collapsed back into Bruce’s arms. The hug was fierce, clinging. Bruce’s cheek found its way back to the boy’s head, one large hand splayed protectively between his shoulder blades while his other gently cradled his neck into his hair. Dick’s muffled sobs were less violent this time but just as impacting. This time, his soft moans and sniffles were of healing rather than breaking, and his father-figure’s heartbeat against his ears reverberated into his soul. Bruce felt the same, holding his boy tightly, securely, protectively… They weren’t perfect, and God knew how many more times they would argue about things of this nature, but it was a start. Bruce felt lighter for confessing, opening up and exposing his true feelings to his son and Dick felt warmer for having heard those words, knowing that he had a special place in the man’s heart…

They stayed like that until the storm evened out, the sharp edges dulling into something warmer, calmer. After quite some time, the teen’s hiccups quelled as his breathing tried to return to normal and he croaked out a concern into the broad chest.

“H-how’s your knee?”

Bruce huffed a watery chuckle, feeling his own throat grow tight. He rubbed at Dick’s back and cleared his throat so he could speak without cracking his voice.

“Just a sprain. I’m fine.”

A pause went by. Then a faint smile tugged at the billionaire’s mouth as he slightly tilted his gaze down to the head of midnight mop near his chin. 

“Actually, if you really look at it, you saved my life tonight.”

That made Dick pull back, frowning in confusion.

“Huh?”

Bruce smirked faintly, but it was soft and kind. Genuine praise.

“If you hadn’t shown up when you did, Zucco would have taken me out. I was injured, trapped on that carousel, with no way to escape. He had me dead to rights. But instead, you saved my life when you rode in and took him away. You really did.”

Dick blinked, absorbing the words. He hadn’t been aware of what was going on before he arrived on scene, blasting through that sign with his motorcycle. But hearing it now, he realized what an impact he did make in the moment. Then, slowly, a smirk began to creep in. Impish and ornery. 

“So… what you’re saying is that… I need to not listen to you more often?”

A bark of laughter exploded from the older man’s chest. Reaching up, he snagged the boy in playful headlock, ruffling his hair with his knuckles. 

“Don’t press your luck, kiddo.”

Their laughter echoed throughout the cavernous space… lighter, carefree, and easier. When the moment passed, Bruce and Dick gave each other one last considerable look, smiled, and turned to walk away towards the main console area. Shoulder to shoulder. However, when Bruce’s eyes caught sight of Dick’s hands. 

“First things first, how about you get a shower and then we let Alfred take a look at your knuckles. You pulverized them.”

Dick lifted them and marveled at the red, split, and angry swelling. He realized maybe he went a bit too far in his. Wincing through his teeth at the sight… and the twinge of pain that was startling to settle in now that his adrenaline was wearing off…, he gave a short embarrassed snort, sending a wry grin up to the man. 

“Heh… y-yeah…”

Bruce just smiled faintly, keeping a hand on his shoulder as they walked. The weight of the night still lingered, but something in it had shifted. The seriousness of the ordeal remained, but the grief had started to transform to a more healing nature, both men more in tune with their feelings, their intentions, and their expectations going forward. 

When they approached the computer console, Dick gave one last look over his shoulder and up to Bruce, both men sharing a brief moment. While this might not have been the most productive way to wrap up a nearly decades’ long case, or the smartest way of proving your love, it fit them perfectly. They gave each other a smile, appreciative, caring, grateful, and parted ways… Dick strode on to the showers and Bruce watched his boy walk away, pride not doing justice to his feelings.

****

A half hour later, Dick Grayson emerged from the showers, scrubbed and clean and rid of the grime of a nearly full half day shift of crime-watching. Honestly, he was surprised he was still standing. The night began around 8:00 pm… and here it was, well after sunrise and going on twelve hours since their initial stakeout began. Adrenaline had kept him going, but fatigue was settling in. Exhaustion plastered all over his young face, but mixed with that bone-tired wash was a renewed sense of freedom, as if a weight was lifted off his shoulders and his heart.

He strode over to the med bay, lifting his eyes and finding the resident butler-chef-medical expert and all-around ‘guy who pretty much knew everything’ waiting for him.

“Well, then Master Dick,” Alfred greeted him, his nose in the air, “Now that you’ve rid yourself of the scum of the city, would you mind explaining why your hands look like they’ve been boxing a brick wall?”

The teen’s bashful grin lifted crookedly as he situated himself on the medical cot. 

“I guess I wasn’t really thinking…”

“I daresay that is an accurate deduction.” Alfred tutted, gathering the antiseptic and wraps. When he brought them over, however, he quirked his eyebrow at the boy as he took a hand in his to inspect closer, “Or, to contradict my own self, perhaps there was too much thinking involved?”

Touche… 

Still, though, Pennyworth did not press the issue or berate the embarrassed and suddenly shy teenager. He was fully aware of the situation in the training area. He overheard everything: the barefisted boxing session, the altercation, the cries, the cathartic ending… Alfred didn’t need to bring it up. Instead, he simply cared for the beaten digits with tender care and gentleness. The quiet between the two wasn’t awkward in any sense, mostly because Alfred had been in the cave when Dick had discovered the truth about Billy Marin, and he knew what the boy went through during that discovery. So, no more words needed to be said… just a warm presence.

When he was finished wrapping the hands, the butler gave a soft pat to the bandages with a tut and a kind smile.

“There we are. Good as new. Rest and ice, young man. Hopefully going forward we can avoid these types of careless injuries, hmm?”

Dick gave a humorous huff and stood up from the bed, gently flexing his fingers underneath the stark white bandages, “Yeah, I’ll try…”

However, before he walked away, the teen stood in front of the older man. Their eyes met, a blooming warmth grew between them, and Alfred pulled Dick in for a very welcome embrace. The paternal side of Alfred sympathized with the young boy. He whispered into his ear, caringly, almost tearing up himself.

“I am so very proud of you, my boy…”

Dick beamed when he stepped back, almost laughing when he saw the elderly wink. Then, with a pat on his shoulder, he started to walk away.

Or he would have if Bruce hadn’t already been waiting for him. The billionaire caught the boy’s gaze. Tilting his head and nudging towards the computer console, he spoke softly.

“There’s still one more thing to do before we call it a night.”

Curiously, Dick followed. When they both made it over to the Batcomputer, the teen looked over to his guardian and saw a warm smile gracing his face. Then, when he glanced over to the screen when Bruce had indicated he do so.

And there, on the screen, was the case file… 

Anthony Zucco

Status: Police Custody, awaiting trial

Case: Closed...

Enter?

Dick stared at the blinking ellipsis for what felt like forever. This was it. The final motion to end the case for good. Something struck inside him when he realized the finality of the moment, the culmination of years and years of uncertainty and open-ended stress at his fingertips, waiting to be confirmed and solved.

Looking apprehensively back over to his father-figure, he saw nothing but understanding, empathy, and encouragement. When Bruce gave a soft nod, Dick’s eyes traced back to the screen, wide with trepidation and, oddly enough, excitement. Swallowing the lump that had nearly closed his throat, he reached a shaky hand towards the console… allowed it to waver over the button… 

…and pressed Enter.

Just like that, the case was closed.

Over.

Zucco was going to be behind bars.

Dick Grayson’s lungs expelled with the force of nine years of waiting, wondering, hoping… His eyes closed and his head hung, his heart racing faster than he expected this moment to bring. However, allowing the reality of the situation to linger, he felt lighter than ever. The massive pressure flew from his shoulders, freed his heart and his mind, and felt what could be described as peace for the first time in quite a while...

It wasn’t until he felt a strong gentle presence on his shoulder that he remembered he wasn’t alone.

“You did it.”

The teen gave a soft snort, as if he debated the facts of that.

“You did.” Bruce confirmed, leaning closer, “You tracked him down. You found him. You brought him to justice. You did it, Dick. You really did.”

This time, Grayson looked up at his father-figure and saw nothing but pride, hope, love, and peaceful support emanating from his smile. While true that he wouldn’t have even known Zucco was in town if not for the Billy Marin clue, Dick did track him down on his own… he did discover where he was hiding out… and he did take him down.

And that fact allowed a satisfied smile to rise up on his own cheeks.

“Y-yeah… I guess I did.”

Clapping his shoulder again for good measure, Bruce then leaned over and turned off the computer, sending the cave into a welcoming darkness. The case was closed, and the night was over… even if it was well past eight in the morning, heading towards nine.

“By the way,” Bruce began as they both turned towards the stairs to the Manor, his voice curious and light, “how did you find out where Zucco was hiding?”

Shrugging as if the ordeal was no problem, Dick casually explained himself as he fell into step with the older man.

“Oh. Well, I um… I found out where Dolan lived, searched through his records, and pressed redial on his phone. When Zucco answered on the other end, I was able to trace his location to the amusement park.”

Bruce blinked at the simple explanation. However, when he heard it, another thought came to mind.

“Wait a minute… So, when the phone rang in his hideout, that was you?”

That little connection made Dick think about how their paths coincidentally crossed tonight in the investigation. Smiling up to his mentor, his grin wide and sly, he shrugged again and nodded.

“Yeah, I guess so.”

This time, Wayne couldn’t hide any kind of astonishment. Pride and amazement filled his features as he chuckled down to his boy.

“Impressive.”

They walked side by side toward the stairs, the tension of the night slowly dissipating, and a feeling of cathartic healing overtaking both of them. Bruce’s hand had dropped from his shoulder, but the closeness remained. Shoulder to shoulder they walked up the steps to the Manor. But, as they made it halfway up, a groan escaped Dick’s lips, breaking the solemn calm.

“Ahhh, man… I have class in half an hour! I’m gonna be late!”

Bruce chuckled softly, turning to him with an amused glance.

“I think you can afford to take one day off. Especially since you’ve been awake for well over twenty-four hours.”

Dick yawned wide, as if to prove the point. He smacked his lips and nodded. Bruce’s smile remained warm, softening the lines of his own exhaustion on his face.

“I’d say you earned it.”

Grayson looked up at him, eyes heavy but playfully expectant, as if to subtly remind his father-figure of his own long hours of crime-fighting.

“What about you? You going to work today?”

Bruce nodded, a tired but determined gleam in his eye as he opened the grandfather clock into the study.

“Yes. I have a meeting at 9:00 for —”

But then Bruce yawned, cutting himself off. In fact, Dick thought he heard a couple cracks in the old jaw bones, eliciting a small wry snort at the hypocrisy.

“Uh huh. Yeah, right.”

****

The sun beamed in through the large picturesque windows that adorned most of the Manor. Alfred Pennyworth moved through the quiet halls, leaving the busyness of the kitchen. It was well past noon and he had prepared lunch, the smell of fresh bread and roasting vegetables filling the air.

When he entered the living room to announce it, however, the sight before him stopped him in his tracks.

Both Bruce and Dick were on the couch.

Passed out… fast asleep.

Bruce’s head was tilted back against the cushions, his expression relaxed in a way Alfred had rarely seen outside of moments like this. His jaw slack, and for once, the endless burden seemed to have lifted, if only for a few stolen hours. His left leg, still wrapped with the knee brace, was stretched out upon the coffee table.

Dick, for his part, looked utterly spent. His chest rose and fell with the steady rhythm of deep sleep, eyelashes dark against pale skin still flushed from the night’s pain and tears. The tension that had roiled inside him only hours before was now gone, replaced by a fragile peace that Alfred recognized as hard-won. His bandaged hands were folded on his stomach and his legs were splayed out and stretched, resting gently upon his father-figure’s lap.

For a moment, Alfred simply stood there, his eyes tracing the slow rise and fall of two lives entwined by more than just shared trauma or partnership.

He thought about the boy who had ridden in on that motorcycle, fierce and furious, who’d beaten the punching bag raw in a desperate attempt to release the storm inside him. And he thought about the man who had held him through tears and anger, who had offered not only protection but understanding: something far more difficult to give.

Alfred’s chest tightened with something like pride, but also a quiet ache. There was so much pain beneath those closed eyes, so much loss and fear and love tangled up together. And yet, here they were, resting, healing, and finding solace in each other’s presence.

Careful not to disturb the fragile calm, Alfred allowed himself a beaming, appreciative, soft smile. This was what made all the darkness bearable….

He turned quietly and slipped away, leaving them to their much-needed rest, his heart fuller than it had been in a long time… and set to make the preparations to turn their lunch into dinner.

Chapter Text

Another day, another million dollars…

It was early morning, the warm spring sun peaked through the curtains of the stately Wayne Manor master bedroom. Inside, Bruce Wayne stood in front of his full-length mirror, attaching his cufflinks to his sleeve hems as he prepared for the day: four research and development proposals, three budget meetings, two investor collaborations… and a partridge in a pear tree.

A soft shuffle drew his attention away from himself. He didn’t need to turn fully to know who it was; he could hear the congestion in the small, stuffy sniffles and the quiet, uncertain footsteps.

Dick Grayson appeared in the doorway, clutching his stuffed elephant, Zitka, close to his chest. His nose was red and damp, dripping slightly down his face. He tried clearing his throat, but failed; his soft voice spoke up raspy and harsh.

“Are you leaving?”

“Yes, Dick,” he replied to the obviously sick boy without turning, his fingers now busy with adjusting his tie. “I need to go into work today. There are a lot of meetings that need my attention,” he added dryly under his breath, “...unfortunately.”

The ten-year-old shuffled closer, his little body swaying as he tried to stand tall. He had been feeling ill for a few days now, increasingly growing sicker by the day. Now, his half-stuffed half-runny nostrils impeded his speech, preventing him from speaking clearly. But after days, finally, Alfred and Bruce – through Dr. Thompkins– deemed him too sick to go to school. The diagnosis: flu. But despite having the next few days off, Dick still didn’t want to acknowledge there was anything wrong... He sniffled and came a step closer.

“Are you… gonna be Batman tonight?”

Bruce’s lips lifted in a small, quiet smile without looking away. “Yes, I am.” he said. Then, he glanced over his shoulder at Dick, a playful gleam in his eyes as if he knew the second part of the question without hearing it. “And you are not going to be Robin tonight.”

A dramatic raspy groan escaped Dick, his bloodshot puppy dog eyes defending himself. “But… I’m fine! I’m not sick anymore, I-I-I–” A violent sneeze trumpeted out, clearing his nose only temporarily, followed immediately by several rough barks. His small frame shook with each cough, the effort draining him.

Bruce looked at the boy struggling to be brave and upright. He stopped primping himself and walked over, kneeling to Dick’s level with a heavy sigh. He placed his large palm on the boy’s fevered forehead, reminding him gently of the reality the boy didn’t want to face.

“If you’re too sick for school, you’re too sick to go out as Robin. You know this.”

Dick sniffled noisily and wiped his face with his sleeve, trying to argue, his voice small and weak but stubbornly persistent.

“I… I can go to school then.”

Another cough exploded out, his chest rattling with phlegm and congestion.

Bruce’s hand dropped from the small forehead to his cheek, then shoulders. His eyes were soft but firm as he held his ground to the puppy dog eyes. 

“I don’t think so, chum. You can’t get better without rest. And Alfred’s chicken noodle soup. Promise me you’ll take it easy, okay?”

The young acrobat’s small form slumped, his bottom lip jutting out in such an adorably rebellious manner. It was obvious he didn’t like that order... He shrugged miserably, giving a non-answer.

Bruce’s tone sharpened just slightly, with gentle insistence, even if he was slightly amused at the not so subtle way his boy was refusing. 

“Not good enough, Dick. I need you to promise with your words. No gym, no cave, no running around… no sliding down the banisters. I mean it. Can you promise me?”

Exhaustion pulled at Dick’s eyes. Slowly, his bloodshot blues lifted upwards to meet the waiting eyes of his guardian. He knew he was outmatched… Knowing he was in a no-win scenario, he mumbled a meek confirmation. 

“... ‘m’kay… I promise...”

Bruce’s lips curved into a faint, affectionate smile, appreciating the effort to agree. He patted the boy’s flushed and feverish cheek, stood up, and took his small hand to lead him gently back to bed. 

“Good. Besides, it’s way too early for you to be up anyway. Come on, let’s get you back to bed.”

****

After many brutal hours of butt-kissers, yes-men, and corporate interrogations on financials and contracts and room renovations and gala planners, the billionaire CEO had finally returned home. Much to his relief, there was still plenty of time left in the day to do what he truly loved:

Beating up the bad guys.

Bruce made it down to the cave, gathered his nighttime costume, and began to change. However, as he got halfway through putting on his cape and boots, a quick set of footsteps trailed down the edge of the stairs and echoed through the cavernous space, growing louder and more frantic as they neared.

“Oh, Master Bruce, you’re home! Thank Heavens!”

Bruce noticed a subtle edge of panic threading his butler’s usual calm demeanor. Raising an eyebrow he turned to see the flushed and nervous man approach.

“Alfred? What’s wrong?”

“It’s Master Dick, sir. He’s missing and I can’t seem to find him anywhere.”

Wait, what?

“What do you mean missing?”

Alfred’s eyes darted anxiously around as if he could see the small boy. He steadied his breathing, wrung his hands, and explained. 

“Exactly that. I’ve searched everywhere, sir, even his usual hideouts. He is not in his bedroom, the living room, the kitchen cabinets, the crawl space behind the stairs. I even looked up to the bloody chandeliers but he isn’t anywhere to be found. I am… terribly worried.”

“How long has he been missing?” Wayne asked evenly, though the tension in his jaw betrayed his concern. His mind was now racing what could have happened or where Dick could have gone. Hopefully not far; he was still very sick.

“An hour, sir,” Alfred admitted. “I was busy preparing him a late night snack to go along with his medication but when I came back into the living room the boy had vanished.”

Bruce exhaled slowly, collecting his own sense of fear. A growing pit of uneasiness lingered in his gut, but after a few moments he looked at his butler and somewhat confidently proposed an idea.

“Search around the cave. I’ll go check the roof.”

Alfred blinked. “The… roof, sir?”

Bruce’s lips tugged into a faintly dry grimace as he held up his hand to pause the thought. “I’ll explain later.”

As the boy’s guardian walked toward the stairs to reach the Manor’s level, something caught his eye in his periphery: the Batmobile’s canopy was open.

Bruce’s eyes flickered curiously towards the odd sight. He normally keeps the car's opening closed until he’s ready to leave. To be fair, the last thing he needed in the expensive vehicle’s interior was bat droppings… However, the more he looked at the car and wracked his brain for answers, his confusion gave way to the spark of a detective’s amusement. He smirked, softened, and gave Alfred a subtle, knowing glance.

Just as Pennyworth was about to question or protest his oldest charge’s actions, Bruce held up a quiet finger to his mouth, halting the inquiry. Then, he tilted his head towards the Batmobile on his walk over. Curious, Alfred followed.

When Bruce reached the side of the vehicle, he peered inside the Batmobile. Bunched up on the passenger seat was a large piece of black fabric: his cape. An extra one, at least. But it wasn’t the cape that was out of place, it was the faint wheezing and rattling sound that slowly and evenly lifted the cape like a heartbeat…

… and the small boot sticking out.

Bruce almost laughed… At least, he would have if the boy’s disappearance weren’t so serious. After all, he was still very sick and shouldn’t be in the dark, dank cave. He leaned over the edge of the car, his arms crossed casually as he peered in. He cleared his throat and softly, gently coaxed the boy.

“Dick?”

The only response was more wheezing.

He shook his head with mild amusement and carefully lifted the cape. Beneath it, curled up like a tiny, frail bird, was Dick Grayson, all mussed, exhausted, and still very much ill. His mask sat askew on his small face, snot running from his nose, but his tiny body had tried to don the full Robin suit, only making it about most of the way proper.

It was the most adorable thing he had ever seen…

Bruce chuckled softly. He gingerly removed the mask and set it on the dashboard, then scooped the boy into his arms. Instantly, Dick relaxed against him, coughing violently into Bruce’s shoulder. His small legs wrapped instinctively around Bruce’s waist, his arms reaching up and clinging to his neck like a lifeline.

Alfred breathed a long, relieved sigh when he saw the man rise out of the vehicle’s interior with the child wrapped in his arms. 

“My goodness! Now… how in the world did he get down here without my noticng?”

Bruce spun around, his broad arms swallowing Dick against his frame. He started to walk towards the step, giving his butler a knowing smirk. 

“And now you know how he got on the roof.”

Step by step, Bruce walked toward the stairs, holding Dick with care, listening to the soft rattles and wheezing breaths. He glanced down at the boy in his arms, the boy’s small face pushed into his neck, eyes shut, lips parted in fatigue. Bruce’s thoughts wandered quietly, the bond between them filling the silence of the early morning with warmth… and he felt an unspoken promise to always protect this small, stubborn, indomitable boy, no matter what. 

Meanwhile, Alfred watched from the distance, a lightness filling his chest as he watched the father-figure carry the new and welcomed addition to their family up the steps. A sense of love and pride entered his soul. 

Chapter Text

For the past several months, David M. Donner had been eluding and evading capture for his lucrative business. As far as anyone was concerned based on details and leads and evidence, The newer Gotham traveler from down south was trafficking something illegal, assumed weapons or ammunition of some sort.

It wasn’t much for Batman or Robin to go on, admittedly, but it was enough to consider the tips and leads worthy enough for a shakedown.

“We have a receipt of cash flow and a suspected clientele list that’s fairly prominent and damning. Congressmen, business execs, even a freakin’ millionaire pharmacist from the Bronx has ties to this,” James Gordon stoically informed the Dynamic Duo as they stood on the rooftop of police headquarters beside the glowing signal, “Donner’s been pretty careful so far, avoiding leaving any crumbs, traveling from place to place to place. How he ended up in Gotham is anyone’s guess, but our snitch underground gave us enough intel to go on to make our move tonight… and with everything we learned, we need to move ASAFP, pardon my French,” he tilted to the younger hero, who simply smirked as if it was nothing he hadn’t heard before.

“So, the GCPD takes full reins while we’re used as backup?” Batman questioned, his cape surrounding him like a protective sheath.

“Well, considering what’s going on, we were hoping for the element of surprise, if you’re up for it. The entirety of the force will be there, but I’d wager it’d be the other way around…”

“We go in first. You follow.” 

Gordon nodded heavily and handed over a piece of paper, “Here’s the address. Nowhere near what we thought. It’s a rundown apartment building in the South Bowery. Which, when you consider the irony, should have been what we thought. Seemingly abandoned from the outside, the inside is… well…” He cleared his throat and his eyes darkened, “Our new intel as of ten minutes ago suggests ‘inside’ isn’t what we thought it was going to be.”

“What do you mean?”

“Donner, uh… isn’t trafficking weapons.”

“What is it then?” Robin asked from beside them both, “What’s inside?”

The Commissioner suddenly paused as his gaze lingered on the younger teenager, a sense he was abruptly uncomfortable. Something spooked and unsettled the older man, Robin and Batman had noted. The white haired man looked between them, hesitating. Pushing his glasses up his nose, his hooded eyes glanced back towards the Bat and his now raspy tone taking on a more serious and confidential nature. 

“Can I have a word alone?”

Robin blinked around the empty roof, “But we are alone.”

This time, Gordon didn’t hide his awkwardness. He shifted and cleared his throat again, “I meant… with you,” he directed his eyes over to Batman, “Just you.”

Batman didn’t answer immediately or acknowledge Robin’s indignant perplexity that crossed his youthful face. He just studied Gordon’s expression and took in the tight jaw, the faint crease between his brows, and the closed off posture. Something wasn’t right… Batman then looked back at Robin. His gaze lingered a beat longer on the confused gaze of his young partner, longer than usual, before he gave a single nod back to the police commissioner.

“Wait here,” Batman instructed his protege, his voice low, final.

The Boy Wonder’s brow furrowed as his mouth gaped, watching his mentor walk away. “What? Why? Why can’t I–”

“Wait. Here.”

That tone ended it. Batman turned and followed Gordon toward the far end of the rooftop, leaving Robin standing by the signal, his cape tugging lightly in the wind, and sorely puzzled as to why he wasn’t privy to this conversation.

The red and green hero crossed his arms and narrowed his eyes curiously, watching them. The two were speaking in low tones, too low for him to catch, but he could read the body language well enough. Gordon’s shoulders were tense, his hand occasionally gesturing toward the folder, and his face held no joy or pleasure in whatever he was saying. Batman didn’t interrupt, either; he just listened. Then Robin watched as the caped man closed his eyes briefly, his head dipping as though the weight of whatever he just heard sank deep. A shallow nod. 

Whatever it was, it wasn’t good.

When Batman returned, his expression was grimmer, the sort that shut down further questions before they started, but still unreadable on his part.

“Let’s go.”

Robin bristled and rotated his befuddled gaze between his boss and the commissioner. “Wait, that’s it? What was that about?”

“Later,” Batman deadpanned, already moving toward the edge of the roof without waiting.

Robin looked back and over at Gordon, who gave a faint, understanding nod before turning back toward the door to the stairwell. The young hero frowned, frustration and curiosity written all over his face, then followed Batman into the night.

As it drove along the streets in a rumbling echo, the Batmobile’s occupants remained even quieter. Robin sat in the passenger seat with his arms crossed, his knee bouncing and fidgeting with the questions that remained unspoken. However, after several minutes, the teenager couldn’t take it anymore.

“Okay, seriously, what was that all about? It had to have been serious.”

Batman kept his eyes fixed on the road. After a pregnant and considerable pause, his expressionless tone informed his boy that “It was about the investigation.”

“Yeah, but what part? Gordon seemed pretty frazzled about the whole thing. What did he tell you?”

No response.

“Why won’t you tell me about it? Why couldn’t I hear it?”

“Drop it.”

“But I don’t understand, why can’t–”

“I said drop it, Dick.”

Blinking at the booming finality in the abrupt cut off, Robin felt a deep agitation rising in his gut. His curious eyes morphed into a narrowed glare with the serious lack of information from his mentor and guardian. However, instead of continuing with his own interrogation, he snorted and stared back out the window, hoping that at some point he’d be kept in the loop with whatever they were getting into.

The Batmobile finally pulled into a narrow alley, the shadows swallowing the car as it crept into its dark cover. The building that loomed ahead on the opposite side of the street, however, looked half-abandoned, as Gordon had stated. An old apartment complex long since deprived of any upkeep and maintenance, its crumbling brick exterior and boarded up windows left something to be desired.

Robin leaned forward in his seat, squinting at the dilapidated structure. “This is the place?”

“Yes.”

“You sure? Looks like it’s been dead for years. I know the Commissioner said it was gonna look that way, but this place looks like it really is.”

Batman took a deep breath, exhaling slowly, then pressed the canopy button without a word. As the roof of the vehicle slid open, Robin waited for the plan– for any plan–, of the usual precise rundown of entrances, exits, and backup scenarios, but instead, he received nothing of acknowledgement other than Batman’s swift leap from the vehicle.

“So?” the Boy Wonder prompted as he leapt out after, following along a few steps behind, “What’s the move?”

Batman stopped in his tracks, froze for a second, and then half turned toward him. “You’re waiting outside.”

Now that made Robin stop in his own steps. His shoulders shuddered as the words physically took him aback with a puzzled eye lift.

“Huh?”

“When the police arrive, be ready to help them. From outside.”

None of this was making sense to the red and green hero, not one bit. He scoffed and shook his head in disbelief, stepping forward. “Wait, what are you talking about? Why can’t I come in? What’s inside that I can’t–?”

“I’m not going to argue with you,” Batman’s tone hardened and his eye slits narrowed even more, “You’re not going in.”

“Come on, you might need me! What if–”

“I said no, Robin.”

The boy opened his mouth to protest again, but the look on his guardian’s face was beyond stern and immovable, like a brick wall being blasted with a squirt gun. His tone was even and decisive. Still the stubborn boy tried to argue his point and try to at least get one reason.

“But I don’t–”

“That’s final.”

The teenager stared at him for a moment, slack-jawed and beyond bewildered. However, as the order to not engage sunk in, his mouth closed and tightened, the frustration practically steaming out of his ears. His fists clenched at his sides while his insides twisted with offended rage. Quickly, Robin averted his eyes, jutting out his jaw towards the street beside them rather than face his mentor who had not hesitated to both humiliate and offend him.

Seeing he was getting no more push back from the teen, Batman turned and continued to walk towards the building, snaking his way around the side into the darkened alley… and disappeared into the shadows.

The eye roll from the young hero couldn’t have been louder, but was still accented by a rough kick of a stray gravel stone down the street.

****

Time passed by inexplicably slowly, images and thoughts crawling through space and dimension, stretching on into eternity as the matter of surrounding beings became lost in their own ideology and deprived of senses that grounded them in their present period of existence…

At least that’s what it felt like… After ten minutes, Robin thought he was about to lose it. 

Thankfully, reality wasn’t as harsh as his imagination. Soon, sirens cut through the dead boring silence of the front porch as the red and green hero sulked in his own fashion. The flashing blue and red bounced off the broken windows of the old apartment complex and the structures surrounding the area, sending anyone within a multi-block radius scrambling for their homes, cars, or cardboard boxes.

One by one, the Gotham City Police Department cruisers screeched to a halt. Doors flew open. Boots hit the ground. Guns were drawn. Officers spread out in formation, approaching with sharp yet silent precision, waiting to tackle whatever the Bat had scrambled up for them as HIS backup. 

Commissioner Jim Gordon was the first up the sidewalk, his trench coat flaring behind him, the black pistol drawn but low. His sharp eyes scanned the property, then traced up to the front stoop and… landed on the sulking teenager sitting on the steps, brooding and frustrated, as if he’d been grounded from saving the world.

Gordon’s shoulders loosened just slightly at the hunched and closed off hero. 

“Robin.”

He greeted the boy carefully, keeping his voice calm but his tone edged with command as he half studied the boy and half glanced around the perimeter.

Robin didn’t even look at the older man. He just jerked his thumb over his shoulder, his expression steeped in pure irritation and annoyance and his tone low and deadpanned… beyond ‘over it’.

“He’s inside.”

Jim blinked at the gruff and frustrated mumble, which meant he couldn’t quite hide a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. Relief softened his wrinkled face, the kind that came from realizing the kid hadn’t seen whatever was inside that building.

“Good,” he exhaled quietly, glancing at the armed team behind him, gesturing sternly yet discreetly for his men and women to “Flank the back and sides. Secure any and all exits, watch for window escapes. Batman’s inside already, but wait for my signal.”

A chorus of silent nods and mumbled confirmations floated through the force as one by one they took off in various directions to do just that.

Detective Harvey Bullock lumbered up beside Gordon, keeping his gun brandished yet lowered as he gave Robin an amused sideways glance.

“Still don’t know why the Bat didn’t send ya home, kid. This ain’t a place for you’se, alright?”

Because Robin didn’t understand the severity of whatever situation this was, he didn’t recognize the subtle solemnity of the overweight detective’s words. Instead, his head snapped toward him, a glare sharpened with profound offense at being labeled a kid.

Fourteen wasn’t a ‘kid’, in his eyes. He was practically an adult.

Before he could retort, Renee Montoya gave Bullock a firm smack on the arm. “Knock it off, Harvey.”

Gordon didn’t say anything to the contrary, neither agreeing or disagreeing with Bullock or Montoya. He knew what was inside that building. They all did. And frankly, he was glad Batman had left the boy on the porch and out of the thick of it.

Still, the Boy Wonder couldn’t help the restless tap of his foot as he exhaled heavily, stood up, and watched the building’s activity bustle around with every added police officer, every muscle tense, every gun drawn and ready for action. His trained eyes glanced around the windows again at the six-story building.

Why isn’t anyone telling me what’s going on?

Without warning, sounds of shouting erupted from inside, muffled and angry and desperate calls for help. Robin tensed instantly, his fists curled at his sides as he prepared for action. His gut twisted and his instincts readied him for whatever was going to happen. But, before he could react further, the front door burst open.

And out flew a man– literally, flew–, crashing face first onto the front porch’s splintered surface before his momentum continued tumbling and flipping him down the three steps, sending him crumbling to the cement landing below with a loud crunch of bones. Whimpering and groaning, his face puffed and pitted, wild and sweaty and full of fear, the man known to Robin through pictures as David M. Donner struggled to crawl away with seemingly two broken legs.

“Please help me! Help me! Keep ‘im away from me, get him away!”

He wasn’t alone.

Batman, silent and deadly, his jaw locked and grinding, stormed out after him. The looming Dark Knight towered over the blubbering criminal, his own fists white knuckled at his sides, glaring daggers down at the pathetic excuse for a human being that was pleading for mercy. 

“Move move move, people! He’s out! We got him!” 

“David Donner, you are under arrest! Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court o’ law, so if I were you I’d shut my big fat pathetic trap!”

Gordon, Bullock, and the others moved fast, guns raised, shouting commands and reading the man his Mirandas. Some officers swarmed into the building through broken windows and the front door behind Batman as others took to handcuffing the criminal instantly. 

Robin had to step back a few feet from the scene as Bullock manhandled the disabled suspect that matched the Detective’s size and stature. He watched helplessly as three officers dragged him to a nearby cruiser, then looked back up to Batman still standing over the scene, chest rising and falling with controlled rage. In fact, Dick couldn’t recall ever seeing his guardian that furious before, that livid, that full of violently seething wrath… even for the Joker.

It freaked him out. Even though he knew the guy, lived with the guy, it still freaked him out. All Dick could do was stare at him… in awe and fear.

Something had happened inside.

Something bad.

But his guardian didn’t stay raging frozen in his spot for long. Turning back, he reentered the establishment. The Boy Wonder had wanted to follow, only his loyalty to the spoken direction keeping him back. Soon enough, however, any questions he had were answered when one by one, people began to emerge from the darkness.

Kids. 

Children. Teenagers. Boys and girls, each no older than Robin himself, some wrapped in blankets, others with a helping uniformed arm around their bare shoulders. Shivering, pale, eyes empty with shock, the children were ushered out by police that had snuck in behind the Dark Knight during the chaos.

Robin’s breath caught. Slowly, his anger at being shoved aside in the action melted into confusion and unease as paramedics whirled in, their own sirens blaring their pronouncement.

Ten minutes later, the street was a storm of organized chaos. Yellow police tape dragged and circumvented the establishment, the radios buzzed with orders and details, the sirens calmed their wailing but flashed steadily… and the sobs and coughs from the rescued victims filled the void. More men, and even some women, were dragged out in cuffs. The smart ones didn’t resist.

Robin glanced around, his face twisting with frustration and guilt as whatever had happened inside somersaulted in his chest. He still didn’t know, still didn’t have a clue. But with the children there, he started to put two and two together. The young hero exhaled and leaned over towards his mentor who was still observing the paramedics doing their jobs.

“I could’ve helped.”

Batman said nothing. His expression was still grim and unreadable, but Dick knew deep down he was shaken. Still… no words.

“Seriously? Nothing?” Robin pressed, his voice sharper.

The Caped Crusader spun and trained his ‘no nonsense’ gaze down to his partner and kept his words short and to the point. 

“Go wait in the Batmobile.”

Robin blinked, incredulous. Here he was, trying to help, but still being shoved aside. “What? But–”

“Now, Robin.”

It wasn’t loud, but the tone was final.

Robin clenched his jaw, biting back what he wanted to say. This night had turned out far different than he had thought, and not in the best way. And being treated like he wasn’t worthy of being involved, or trusted, hurt him to his core. He looked down to the ground, doing his darndest to steady his own rage that boiled his blood… but instead of fighting back, he bit his lips – and his tongue– and spun around, his boots smacking the pavement hard as he sulked angrily toward the Batmobile, his cape snapping around him.

Gordon watched the whole exchange; as Robin removed himself from the immediate area, he took his chance to intervene. Slowly, the Commissioner walked over towards Batman, who kept his furrowed gaze on his boy who had now climbed into the Batmobile. 

“Teenagers, huh?” Gordon said lightly, offering the ghost of a grin.

Batman gave him a dry look, one eyebrow raising slightly. Then he exhaled through his nose… a low, weary sound… but didn’t answer.

Gordon’s expression softened when he saw the inner turmoil in the younger caped man. He cleared his throat and patted him on the shoulder, briefly, maintaining his professionalism but offering a small supportive pinch of confidence in the other man’s abilities and decisions.

“You did the right thing, you know. That kid didn’t need to see this.”

Batman’s eyes rotated back over to his sulking partner in the passenger seat, then over towards the paramedics, lingering on the treatment of the young survivors as they gathered around police cruisers and ambulances. His jaw tightened as the tormenting visions of tonight danced in his head, his shoulders lifting as he sucked in a steadying breath.

“Is everyone accounted for?”

“They’re still searching for those who took to hiding in cupboards or closets or what have you, but from what we’ve gathered so far, yes,” Gordon said, his tone turning grim as he scrubbed at his jaw. “Some of them will need medical attention. All of them will need therapy. But… yeah. Everyone found so far is alive.”

Batman gave a single nod, barely perceptible, but enough to show his gratitude for how the night turned out rather than how it could have, should they not have been there at all. He turned his head then, glancing once again toward the Batmobile. Through the open canopy, he could see Robin slouched in the passenger seat, arms folded again, staring out the window with a storm behind his eyes.

He could only imagine what was running through that young, wild, stubborn mind.

Protecting the ones you love means sometimes you have to be the bad guy.

****

The drive back to the cave was quiet. Uncomfortably quiet. Unnervingly silent. Only the growl of the Batmobile’s engine filled the void. Every so often, though, Batman would glance to his right, where his young partner sat with his arms folded tight, his jaw locked and eyes glued to the window at the passing scenery. 

The kid was fuming, silent but visibly burning. Every muscle in his body screamed frustration. His reflection in the window made him look both older than he was and yet younger simultaneously, as if yes he were trained to handle crazy mature situations but also innocent enough to not be expected to experience all of them.

Batman’s grip on the wheel tightened. He could feel the anger radiating off Dick, and it stung more than he wanted to admit. Still, he kept his eyes on the road ahead. Tonight wasn’t something a young teenager needed to see. Not even him. Especially not him.

When they finally reached the cave, the car crackled and jingled as the engine idled once the power shut off. The canopy slid open with a quiet puff of air, revealing the two warriors.

Robin was out first. No hesitation in his gait. 

“Dick.” Batman’s voice stopped him mid-stride. His tone was graveled and low, but full of everything unsaid, “We need to talk.”

The boy whipped around, eyes and teeth flashing. “Talk? You wanna talk? You never wanna talk!” His voice cracked with anger and something else underneath: hurt. “Besides, what’s to talk about? You just treated me like a little kid tonight in front of everyone! It was embarrassing!”

Batman walked away from the car, standing tall as he came nearer to the smaller bundle of nerves. “I had my reasons for making the call I did,” he said, calm but firm. “You simply aren’t old enough for what–”

“Not old enough?!” Dick barked, throwing his hands in the arm. “Not old enough, are you kidding me?! Come on, Bruce, I’m fourteen, not a baby! I’ve already dealt with guns, drugs, dead bodies,” he ticked off his fingers the list of his exposure, “and everything in between for the last five years, for crying out loud! But for some reason you think I was too young for tonight? You think I couldn’t handle whatever was going on in that house?”

The cowled man exhaled harshly but slowly, trying to keep the frustration from clawing up his throat and barking out at the boy. He closed his eyes briefly and shook his head. “Dick, listen to me–”

“If you didn’t want me to help, then why take me with you at all? Why even bother bringing me if you were just gonna bench me?” The boy tore off his mask and threw it, the fabric hitting the ground with a soft slap that echoed louder than it should have. 

Batman pulled off his cowl, his own temper fraying. “You know the rules,” he said, stepping near and past Dick. “There are times when I can’t explain my actions, even to you. Don’t question my decision-making when it comes to this job.”

“I could’ve handled it!” Dick shot back, his voice raw. “Don’t you trust me?”

Bruce spun back on his heel, his blue eyes narrowing towards the boy as he clung to his red tunic… and his heart. “This has nothing to do with trust, Dick, and you know it.”

“Do I?!”

“I made my decision to keep you outside tonight, and that’s final.”

“I don’t believe this! This is bullsh–”

“ENOUGH!”

The cave echoed with the sudden silence that followed.

Dick stood there, breathing hard, eyes glassy with restrained tears. For a moment, Bruce thought he might say something else… but instead, the boy just glared, shook his head, scoffed indignantly, and stormed off toward the showers, the sound of his footsteps fading down the corridor.

Bruce watched him go. His anger dulled into something heavier. Guilt, maybe, or something worse.

“Dare I ask what that was all about, sir?”

As sure as ever, Bruce and Dick were never the only ones in the cave. Alfred Pennyworth stood by the staircase, a folded towel in one arm, his expression unreadable yet entirely curious.

Bruce exhaled slowly, rubbing a hand through his hair and down to the nape of his neck, forcing his muscles to relax. His hand lingered there as his head tilted upwards, his eyes closing, as if he were communing with his internal peace… After a few moments, he turned towards his employee, servant, and own guardian, and began to trudge over, his movements sluggish and full of emotions… in a small yet heavy voice, he informed Alfred what had happened… and what he had seen.

Pennyworth’s expression shifted from curiosity to silent horror. “Good heavens…” he breathed, clutching at his heart. Then, after a moment and a quick glance over towards the other side of the cave, he went on, “And Master Dick?”

“He doesn't know. I didn’t allow him inside,” Bruce spoke quietly, walking toward the computer. He sank into the chair with more weight than usual, resting his elbows on his knees. “He’s not happy about it.”

Alfred’s shoulders eased just slightly as relief washed over him, “I imagine not.” Then, after a pause, a small, approving smile tugged at his lips. “Still… a decision that any good father would make.”

Wayne’s eyes lifted over and toward him, one brow raised, “I didn’t make that decision as his father, Alfred. He was there tonight as my partner. He’s only 14. I didn’t need him to see that.”

“Need? Or want?”

No response…

“Nevertheless, I do apologize if I am overstepping my bounds here, sir, but if Master Dick were there as a simple partner, would you have permitted him into that building? Would you have made the same decision to deny him involvement? No, sir…” he smiled knowingly, half turning away as he picked up two dishes, “Your choices and actions tonight were based on emotions, not logic."

Bruce simply sat there, his eyes now trained on the black of the computer screen in front of him. Granted, Dick was just a teenager, yes, and he did not need to witness what Batman had come across in that building, especially given his very certain past that had encounters with... well… Either way, if he were any other person, any other teammate, any other partner, would he have denied them action?

It made him think…

But before Alfred completely disappeared up the stairs, he turned back at the landing, his voice gentler now. “At the very least, Master Bruce… an explanation might be in order. If only to keep the trust.”

The billionaire leaned back in his chair, the weight of tonight heavy on his shoulders and on his heart. As his butler rose up the steps that led into the Manor, Bruce Wayne closed his eyes and pictured everything that had happened tonight, running through all the scenarios, the play by play… and how involving Dick could have changed all that.

*****

Hours passed by before the owner of Wayne Manor exited the underbelly and made his way into the ‘warmer’ interior of his dwelling. The house was quiet, though, as if a hushed heaviness wafted over and filled every nook and cranny with a tension so thick it could be sliced with a knife.

Finally, after navigating through the darkened interior lined with table lamps and moonlight, Bruce Wayne hesitated at his ward’s door, the faint light from within spilling into the dark hall. He raised his fist, paused for a brief moment, and then knocked twice.

The door creaked open.

Taking that as somewhat of an invitation, Bruce peered inside carefully. He didn’t want to intrude on this precarious moment of privacy, barreling in and furthering Dick’s rebellious streak, but he wanted to make sure the boy was even in there.

He could see the boy’s silhouette perched at the bay window. His back faced the door, his attention out towards the vast features of the Manor’s landscape that glowed in the midnight moon. Dressed in sweatpants and a t-shirt, Grayson did not move.

Bruce cleared his throat and spoke as gently as he could.

“Can I come in?”

Dick didn’t answer. There was only a barely visible shrug of one shoulder that indicated he had heard the voice at all. Taking that as a sign, Bruce stepped in the threshold of the room, slow and deliberate with his stride. Finally, he sat down beside the boy on the cushioned window seat, facing the room while Dick continued to stare out toward the night. For a long time, neither said a word. The silence hung between them, thick, uncertain, but not hostile.

Finally, Bruce drew in a slow breath, releasing it slowly to ease his blood pressure, and cleared his throat.

“I owe you an explanation.”

Dick didn’t move at the soft words, but his eyes shifted slightly toward Bruce’s direction… enough to show he was listening.

“What we walked into tonight,” Bruce continued evenly as he recalled the night, beginning to fiddle with his fingernails, “it wasn’t what I expected. It wasn’t what Gordon expected either. That building wasn’t a front for smuggling weapons… or even money laundering or extortion. It was… much worse. More… involved… than our original investigation led us to believe… and far more than you needed to be exposed to.”

Bruce’s words caught in his throat as he was forced to pause. Pursing his lips, he closed his eyes and took another steadying breath.

Dick finally looked over, his expression not quite as hardened as he was earlier– time allowed him to cool off–, but the anger hadn’t fully left his eyes or his resolve. “I could’ve helped, you know,” he countered, his voice shallow but sharp. “You know I could’ve. I know how to talk to teenagers. I am one, remember?”

The older man’s lips twitched faintly, but there was no humor behind it. He shook his head.

“Not for this, Dick.”

“Why not?” Grayson huffed back, his blues narrowing as his temper flared again, half turning his body towards his guardian, “I told you, I’ve seen things no one else my age has ever seen. I’ve dealt with drugs, guns, dead bodies, why couldn’t I–”

&&

“I walked in on a grown adult male sexually violating an 11-year-old boy and I had to intervene, Dick, that’s why.”

&&

Dick’s eyes widened. 

Whoa.

The words hit like a brick as the realization sunk in as to how dire this situation really was. It wasn’t drugs. It wasn’t guns. It wasn’t even dead bodies.

A guy was doing… what?!... to a kid? Holy…

The boy said nothing… how could he? He just stared, frozen, in shock, feeling his chest tighten as he quickly acknowledged now the depth of what Bruce had been shielding him from. He still felt the sting of being sidelined, but his anger had nowhere left to go.

Bruce’s eyes turned and fell blankly onto the carpeted flooring, but he wasn’t focused on the floor, rather what was beyond the floor… and his memories.

The two sat in a charged quiet steeped in high emotions, neither one daring to speak up first. However, while Dick was lost in his own tormenting memories, Bruce’s exhaustion from keeping silent won over. A long exhale forcefully expelled from his lungs as he sat up straighter and kept his gaze towards the rest of the bedroom while he explained his reasoning.

“I know you're wondering why I even brought you if I was just going to keep you in the dark. First of all, like I said, what we expected from tonight turned out to be anything but. I had no idea. Had I known, I would have kept you away. Secondly, despite everything, I still trusted you to be there for me if something were to go wrong. I’ve always trusted you… and I always will.”

Dick studied him, watching his face flushed with honesty and openness. Bruce wasn’t angry anymore: he was just worn and drained.

Then the man’s tone softened even more, almost cracking with emotion as his blues turned to connect with him… His features both softened with compassion and hardened with the sting of the truth. 

“And thirdly, on a more personal level, each time I looked into their eyes, Dick, I saw you…” his eyes began to glisten, “I remembered everything you’d gone through at the Center all those years ago… and the last thing I wanted to do was reopen a wound for you tonight. So… in my own mind… I was protecting you.”

The mere mention of the juvenile detention center hit Dick like a cold wind. The six weeks worth of traumatic and detrimental memories flooded his brain and swirled through his thoughts like a hurricane before he could stop them. His throat tightened as his gaze shifted downward, but he didn’t speak.

"I know it might not have come across that way, and I apologize for that... but that's the truth."

Another bout of pensive silence fell over the bedroom. Neither man could look each other in the eye as both were lost in their own thoughts relating to the immediate present and the distant past of five years ago. Bruce hung his head, shutting his eyes… Dick brought his knees up, hugging them to his chest as his watery eyes flickered in the moonlight. 

When Dick had come to the Manor all those years ago, he had once explained to Bruce what had happened to him in the detention center (the details Batman hadn't investigated while Dick was a "resident"), and he only explained it that one time. Bruce hadn’t questioned anything since and they had long enough left those memories in the dark. But now, Dick began reliving those experiences all over while Bruce could only imagine the similarities of his ward’s past and the children’s present from tonight.

A while had passed, enough time that the moon shifted position, its glow angling differently through the glass. Breaking the silence, the older man spoke again, quieter now… more thoughtful, deliberate, and curious, even hopeful. 

“But… I can also see how your experience, how your strength, might’ve helped them. Your empathy could’ve reached them in a way mine can’t.”

Dick turned, meeting Bruce’s eyes. What he saw in those blue orbs was a level of understanding, compassion, and appreciation. Even the faintest of smiles graces the corners of his mouth. Slowly, Dick sat up and smiled back, whispering an idea.

“Maybe I can still help them.”

Bruce studied him for a moment, then nodded, his smile growing. “Perhaps you can.”

Another comfortable quiet fell between them; it was heavy, but no longer painful. The tension had melted into something gentler. But after a minute, the younger of the two snorted and tried to break the soberness of the mood. 

“I’ll be honest, when I thought I knew what was going on, I kinda thought this was all because you didn’t want me seeing a naked girl.”

Bruce blinked at his boy’s quiet smirk, then matched his expression. “If that were the case, Dick, I wouldn’t have stopped you.”

“Ugh!”

The corners of Bruce’s mouth lifted higher at his boy’s embarrassed outburst. Coolly, the father-figure went on as if it were the most normal thing to discuss while his boy covered his face with his hands.

“What? Like you said, you’re fourteen, Dick. It’s very natural to–”

“Noooo, come on, we already had the Talk!”

“I understand your hormones are a little haywire now, but seeing a bare-breasted woman is nothing to–”

“Oh my God, Bruce, stop!”

Bruce threw his head back and laughed, he couldn’t help it. The sound was rare and warm and much needed. He reached out and gave Dick’s shoulder a gentle teasing shake. For the first time that night, Dick cracked a larger smile as his hands fell from his face. Inhaling deeply as his chuckles died down, he looked at Bruce, his blue eyes and thoughts clearer now that everything was in the open.

“Thanks for telling me.”

Bruce nodded, his features quieter and his tone grateful.

“Thank you for listening.”

*****

Morning sunlight slanted through the high windows of the downtown youth shelter, but the warmth of the rays didn’t help much when the mood was so frigid. 

Commissioner James Gordon stepped aside as a pair of officers guided two teenagers toward a row of plastic chairs that accented the cots of the youth shelter. Since the bust of David Donner hours ago, the shelter that had already been filled to the brim with orphans and runaways had seen a tripling in capacity. The room buzzed with soft conversation. Detectives collected statements, nurses checked vitals, kids were wrapped in donated blankets nibbling at toast or staring blankly at the floor.

It had been a long night.

Gordon rubbed the back of his neck and puffed out an exhausted exhale, imagining (dreading) the work that still needed to be done to get these kids safe. However, a mechanical noise from the front entrance made him turn around. Blinking in surprise, he closed the gap between himself and the two figures who had just entered the building in just a few seconds.

“Batman… Robin. What are you two doing here?”

Batman’s low baritone rumbled with a gentleness as he glanced around the interior while his partner stopped beside him.

“We came to check in. See how everyone’s doing.”

Gordon nodded and cleared his throat, gesturing toward the officers conducting interviews.

“Well, we’re getting statements from the very few who are comfortable talking. Most won’t, but if we can get enough damning evidence to put Donner behind bars in addition to what we've already learned, that’s all that matters. His trial is in two weeks, by the way. It’s going to be messy, but right now we’re making sure the kids are safe and that nothing falls through the cracks.”

As the Commissioner continued to explain the updates to Batman, Robin didn’t stay put beside them. Without a word, he began walking around the room, his movement light but purposeful. Gordon followed the younger hero with a curious look as his voice trailed off…

“Uh… where is he going?”

Off to the side, half a room away, Robin stopped at a cot where a few of the younger children sat quietly. Their body language was closed off and hesitant, extremely guarded as some of their eyes were downcast and clouded with terrors and the others darted around in a paranoid search of anything hostile.

Robin didn’t hesitate.

Gordon and Batman watched on as the boy crouched down to their level, sitting cross-legged on the floor and offered a soft, encouraging smile. Slowly, cautiously, the kids looked up at him as Robin began to speak a few words.

And then something miraculous happened.

In just a few seconds, the children's guarded expressions gave way to tentative curiosity. Some of them began to smile… and speak… and laugh. Then Robin lifted a box he had brought, a box that Gordon hadn’t seen until now, and pulled out paper, crayons, and a few colored pencils. He held them out, and the kids’ eyes lit up. One by one, they reached for the supplies, eager to draw.

From across the room, Gordon and Batman observed the boy without a word. Batman allowed himself a long silent exhale, pride and confidence. Gordon, however, observed with a level of curiosity that bordered on confusion. He leaned over and spoke to the caped man.

“What’s he doing?”

Batman didn’t answer immediately. He didn’t need to. Gordon could see it in his eyes: the quiet pride, the warm admiration, and the gentle compassion that holed itself deeper than surface level. Without turning to face the police officer, the caped man’s voice rumbled with a sense of private admission.

“I kept Robin away from that house last night for multiple reasons, Jim.”

Gordon’s brows furrowed as he considered the statement, glancing toward Robin. The boy sat on the floor, helping a small group of children color, laughing quietly as one of them carefully traced a sun in orange crayon. There was a gentleness there, a patience that belied his years, and Gordon realized this wasn’t just normal teenage curiosity. It wasn’t just being young enough to converse on their adolescent or development level.

Batman turned his head slightly towards the commissioner, his voice low but laced with an over abundance of heartfelt appreciation.

“Thank you for giving me a heads up.”

Gordon’s eyes widened slightly at the grateful words. With one look back out towards the red and green hero, then back to the stoic yet shadowed visage of the mask, it all clicked.

It was empathy born from experience.

Something in Robin’s past had influenced Batman’s decisions, something that made him overprotective, but also wise in how he handled the boy’s exposure to everything that had happened last night at that house. Jim pursed his lips and hung his head, a pit of sympathy settled in his gut. He exhaled deeply, nodding to himself, steadying the emotion, and then opened his eyes up to the caped man. Reaching up, he lightly patted him on the shoulder.

“For the record… let him know I’m sorry for what happened to him. But thank him, too… for what he’s able to do right now.”

Batman met Gordon’s eyes, silent acknowledgment passing between them as his head bobbed. Gordon gave a small, knowing smile.

“That boy of yours… he’s something else, huh?”

The Caped Crusader allowed the faintest half-smile to curve up his chiseled jaw.

“I know.”

Jim patted his caped shoulder again, lingering, a quiet gesture of camaraderie and respect. Then he dropped his arm, straightened his jacket, and proposed an option going forward.

“You want to go over the details of the arrest warrant?”

Batman’s smirk returned, a glint of dark sarcastic humor in his eye slits.

“Sounds like fun.”

Gordon chuckled, shaking his head in disbelief and admiration. He glanced back toward Robin, still on the floor with the children, the crayons scattered around them, his voice soft as he guided their little hands and offered a comforting word or two. The commissioner shook his head again, silently acknowledging the weight of both fathers in the room and their shared experience of promoting and striving for guidance and protection, both working in tandem to keep the children safe and the boy grounded in hope.