"As for your performance… It was satisfactory"

Dick gave a small smile to the ground as the rest of the team broke out into grins of joy. Approval from Batman was something rarely given, so they were treasuring it while it lasted.

While the others were all gathering round Kaldur, expressing their happiness of his release, Dick wandered off into the trees, preferring to be alone. The League was finalising the clean-up of the place and sending the Injustice League back to Belle Reve.

The Injustice League.

Atomic Skull, Black Adam, Count Vertigo, Poison Ivy, Ultra-Humanite, Wotan and…

The Joker.

Dick, moments before had been facing the Joker, and besides from a few bruises, he was fine. He had to be.

Then why wouldn't his hands stop shaking?

Dick took a deep breath and leaned against the tree, trying not to think about the fight. The Joker had come at him with a knife and the words I always wanted to carve this little bird. It had terrified him, that if this madman had gotten his hands on him that he would 'carve' him with a small dagger.

He wasn't usually this scared after or during facing Villains. But the Joker was different. He epitomised everything that Batman and Robin stood against; he was the biggest threat that they had ever faced together and the most terrifying.

And he seemed hell-bent on destroying Dick.

The Joker seemed to hate Robin like nobody else. It was different than the way that he hated Batman, and different from the way that the Joker hated the world. Just when the Joker thought he was going to succeed in finally taking down the Batman, Robin would rush in with some plan to foil him.

The Joker despised him and wanted to take Dick down, and that's what scared Dick most. That one day, Batman wouldn't be there to save him, and that the Joker was going to take him down in the most horrifying way possible.

"Robin?" a deep, gruff voice broke through Dick's thoughts, "Time to go home."

Dick looked up at Bruce through his hair and nodded, breathing in shakily. He felt like wasn't there. The voices around him sounded like they were talking through a glass wall, the feeling of the wind against his skin didn't feel… right. His mind couldn't stop thinking about anything and everything about that evening and what was happening right now in front of him. He was going at a million miles an hour but remained perfectly still.

Dick looked up again, realising that Bruce had said something.

"Huh?" he mumbled.

"You alright?" Bruce repeated.

"I'm fine," Dick replied quietly. He just wanted to get home.

They finally made it to the Batmobile, and no matter how high the heating inside was, throughout the entire trip home, Dick had his cape drawn tightly around him. Bruce kept casting side-way glances at him throughout the entire trip, as if he was trying to deduce what was wrong, but couldn't tell.

When they arrived at the Batcave, Dick ignored Alfred's offer to make him a warm drink and stalked straight to his bedroom, still shaking and trying to control his breathing. Pacing, he gripped his hands in his hair and pulled.

What's wrong with me?

He was Robin; the flitting circus-bird filled with boy-ish charm. Whenever Robin got into trouble, he laughed it off and moved on. He didn't… shake.

He couldn't let Bruce know; he didn't want him thinking he was weak. Robin had to be strong enough to face his nightmares if he wanted to stay with Batman.

Dick carefully undressed from his uniform, wanting to rid himself of Robin for now. Sometimes, he needed to leave crime-fighting in the other world, where he had wings and could do anything he pleased.

Right now, he was Dick Grayson, ward of millionaire Bruce Wayne, and he was getting ready for bed.

Dick slept restlessly, dreaming of knives and flightless birds, maniacal laughter and endless demeaning wise-cracks. Finally, the knife pierced him, and he woke up, shaking from head to foot and drenched in his own sweat. He realised he was crying and stared at the tears falling onto his hands. He needed a drink.

Dick got out of bed and wiped his eyes as best he could, before padding through the silent hallways of Wayne Manor towards the kitchen. Hopefully, Alfred would still be preoccupied with Bruce.

He was wrong.

Alfred was in the kitchen, almost as if he was expecting him.

"Good Evening Master Dick," Alfred in his polite voice. Just the sound of it calmed Dick down.

Dick breathed in shakily before replying. "Hi Alfred." He wandered over to the kitchen counter and sat on a stool across from the standing Butler. Alfred was wiping dishes down and stacked them in piles beside the sink.

"Everything alright?" Alfred asked kindly.

Dick laughed breathily, still trying to keep in the tears.

"No," he managed to get out, "Not since the fight with the Injustice League."

Alfred nodded as if he knew.

"I- I haven't been able to stop thinking about… Him," Dick started, "Since the end of the fight."

He placed his palms on his forehead. "I wish he would just get out of my head."

"Have you slept tonight?" the butler asked.

"Yes, but I feel like I've run a marathon. I'm exhausted even more than usual after a mission," He managed to get out.

"Why don't we," said Alfred, leaning on the bench in front of Dick, "Organise something to calm you down." The butler raised his eyebrows in question.

"Like what?"

"A movie, popcorn, warm blanket. Sound appealing to you, Master Dick?"

Dick nodded slightly and the Butler was off. He would always care for his boy.

An hour later, Dick was sleeping soundly on the couch in front of 'Through the Rear Window' with a box of popcorn half spilling onto the floor.