Hey guys! I'm back with a Robin fic, finally. I'm really going to try and NOT disappear off the face of the earth in the middle of this one, promise. But a little R&R always helps me stick to it. Oh, and any 100 fans will know where I got the title. XD
May We Meet Again
CHAPTER ONE
-Present day, 2012-
Dick stared, his throat dry, his stomach plummeting.
"What?"
Bruce met his eyes with his own stern gaze. The screen from the monitor cast harsh light over his face. "I said, you're grounded. No patrol for the rest of the year."
No patrol?
What did that even mean?
"What about the Team?" he asked tentatively.
"You can still visit the Cave, but you'll have to sit out on any missions."
Dick's world shot out beneath his feet. Running away from him, like a criminal on the loose.
There was still four months left in the year! He wanted him to sit out for four months? Was he insane?
"You can't do that," Dick said, too angry to plead.
Dick watched as his mentor moved for the stairs, running away from conversations, like always.
"Your nights as Robin are a privilege, Dick. And I can revoke that privilege the minute you disobey me. That was the deal."
"You wanted me to leave you!" the teenager cried. Incredulous. "You wanted me to leave you to a bunch of ruthless criminals in the sewers of Gotham. With a broken arm!"
Bruce sighed, gripping onto the railing tightly. "I told you to take Gordon out of there and request backup. I could have held them off till then," Bruce argued, and Dick scoffed, folding his arms. "I made it very clear the day you took up the mantle of Robin that I called the shots, no questions asked. You have to trust me, or this doesn't work."
"I was trying to save your life."
"And you nearly lost yours in the process," Bruce retorted. "Not to mention, you put the Commissioner's life in danger."
Dick glanced down at the bullet wound in his thigh. He felt the tears well up—in frustration, not pain—but he refused to let them free. Not in front of Bruce.
"You can't take this away from me," he whispered pathetically.
Bruce's shoulders fell, and his face softened. An imperceptible shift to a stranger. But Dick had learned Bruce's body language early on. He had to—it was the only language he spoke fluently.
"Until you learn to follow orders, this is the way it has to be."
OoO
"He wants me to trust him, but he won't even trust me!" Dick hissed, his breath white against the air. "I always thought we were partners. But I guess I was wrong."
"I'm sorry, man," Wally said from the other end of the line. "If it makes you feel better, Barry treats me the same way. Like a sidekick who can't survive on his own. A caddy."
"What's their deal?" Dick huffed, lying back on the roof of some casino. "I mean, it's not like he's been training me for four years or anything."
He could hear Wally's humph of agreement over the background noise of Mario Kart.
"And it's not like he never gets hurt. He comes home bruised and battered every night! God forbid I get shot—"
"Wait, you got shot?" Wally snapped.
Dick winced.
Worried-Wally was a nightmare. He and Babs were similar in that regard.
"It was just a graze."
"And you're back out there, right now? Without permission. Aren't you in pain?"
"It helps fuel my anger."
"You're a moron."
"So is Batman."
Wally sighed unhappily. "Don't you think all this might have something to do with…you know…the date?"
Dick worked his jaw. "That has nothing to do with it."
"Because around this time every year, you sort of go all self-sacrificial and push the limits."
Dick shook his head, even though Wally wasn't there to see him. "This isn't about my parents, KF. It's about Batman. Robin's a part of me now. Bruce can't just expect me to pretend like I live a normal life for the rest of the year. I've never lived a normal life! I have no concept of what constitutes as normal."
Wally laughed into the phone. "Maybe a little break will be a good thing, then. I mean, it's not like you can be Robin forever."
The words sent the cold air straight to Dick's lungs, and he bit his lip.
"You don't think so?"
A beat passed as the speedster realized he wasn't joking.
"What, you're gonna run around in tights for the rest of your life?"
Dick opened his mouth and closed it again.
He wasn't like Batman. He wasn't consumed by the life.
And yet, just the idea of losing his alter ego for months was enough to send him over the edge. To hang up the uniform forever? Maybe that was something Wally could envision, but a life without Robin? Impossible.
Robin was freedom. He was kissing skylines and jumping off skyscrapers. He was beating up bad guys and saving lives. He was time spent with the real Bruce Wayne, not his mask.
How could his mentor deny him that?
Wally didn't get it. Turning to crime-fighting—it wasn't something that gave his life purpose. He'd had a family. He'd had a home. A childhood. To Dick, Robin was his life. Being an acrobat was all he'd ever known.
"I should probably head back before Alfred checks in on me. The Bat Glare has nothing on an angry butler."
"Sure thing. But Dick," Wally said, pausing his game. "Be careful out there, okay? Bruce isn't the only one you scare when you do stupid shit."
"Yeah...okay. Goodnight, KF."
OoO
He was making his way back home when a burst of white energy kissed his peripheral.
Meta, Robin thought solemnly.
He followed the light to an alleyway, crouching at the edge of the fire escape.
The man below wore a dark hood that shadowed his face, but his hands were covered in tattoos. He didn't look like a typical Gotham thug. Robin was getting more of a League of Shadows vibe.
"Don't you wish you could turn back the clock?" the man murmured to himself, as he placed his palms upon the brick wall at the end of the alley. White light spread from his hands, traveling along the mortar.
"To visit those which we have lost?"
The bricks shuddered, pulsing with energy.
"I knew you would come, Dick Grayson," the man said coldly, and Robin slid a little bit from his perch on the railing, stunned.
"How do you—"
"I am Lord of Time. I know your past, present, and future," he explained. "You see, Richard, we meet again someday, under less agreeable circumstances. That is why I must apologize in advance for this tragic goodbye."
Robin should have seen it coming.
An invisible force tugged on his body, and he fell from the fire escape, slapping the grimy floor of Gotham with a crack. He just had a chance to glance up at the shadowed figure before the force yanked him backwards, into the wall.
Or…through it.
OoO
He hurdled through glass and landed on cold, checkered linoleum.
What…in the hell…?
Alarms started screaming, and Dick was having a hard enough time trying to recover from the crash-landing without losing his goddamn hearing.
He groaned, shifting his body away from the shards. His thigh throbbed and blood began to seep through his uniform. Again.
He finally opened his eyes to a dark room flooded with the stale green light of an exit sign and the flashing red alarms on the ceiling.
It was like the Christmas apocalypse.
Okay, he thought, trying to focus. Think.
Where had he been moments before?
Fighting some weirdo that called himself the Lord of Time?
Then the next thing he knew, he was shooting through a brick wall like Harry Potter and was somehow transported across multiple blocks of Gotham City to…
Ah. Figures.
He wondered why this place seemed familiar. Even in the dark, he couldn't forget the austere architecture of Wayne Enterprises.
Bruce was going to murder him.
He could forget ever patrolling again, let alone four months from now.
He sat up on his elbows, pushing the button on his communicator to check the time.
He'd only been gone about two hours. If he could clean up this mess and reach the manor before anyone even noticed he was—
His eyes found the date in the corner of the time compartment, and he lost his train of thought.
Dick squinted.
That…couldn't be right.
Had he landed too hard on his side? Did the fall mess up the settings or something?
Before he could investigate the error, a figure swooped down and landed at the edge of the broken window. A familiar, unwelcome sight.
"Batman…" he sighed, trying to come up with a viable excuse, anything really.
His mentor flicked his hand, and a batarang stapled the fabric of Dick's cape to the floor. Pinning him to the ground.
"Hey!"
Alfred would not be pleased.
Batman moved forward like a dark, unforgiving wave.
Okay, so yeah, he was in deep shit, but still. Bruce never actually threw stuff at him? Didn't he care that he was covered in glass and bleeding? Was he that angry?
Robin was about to open the floodgates and start apologizing when Batman stepped closer, towering over him with a cold, distant stare.
"Who are you?"
OoO
"Who am I?" Dick repeated incredulously. "What are you talking about?! Are you concussed?"
Batman worked his jaw, revealing nothing.
Robin could hardly breathe. Was this some sick joke?
"You're not fighting back. You haven't stolen anything. And you're dressed like a clown. Start talking."
A clown?
Robin stared helplessly at Batman, trying to come up with a reasonable explanation as to why his mentor didn't recognize him. Dementia? Clone? Brainwashing?
And then his eyes flitted down to his communicator again, and he swallowed.
No way.
No, no, no, no.
"What year is it?" he asked, afraid of the answer he would receive, the implications of his response.
Batman glared at him.
"What's the date?" Robin stressed, eyes wide and haunted.
"It's August 2…"
Robin's throat constricted.
"August 2, 2007."
And that's the pitch.
Here we go.