Disclaimer: I don't own anything related to DC and I'm not making any money off of this story. Also, I write it the way it comes out of my head so the characters probably aren't in very good characterization. ;-)

"There's nobody over here, Batman. It's…"

THUNK

"Robin? Robin, answer me! Robin!"

"Sorry, Batman, but the boy is more interested in reading a book than talking to you."

"Bookworm, you devious devil! What have you done to Robin?"

There was no answer and Batman shoved his Bat-communicator in his utility belt. He was in the history section of the large library and Robin was in the fiction area, all the way on the other side.

"Excuse me, citizens, out of the way, please," he whispered as he weaved his way through several people browsing in the same aisle.

"Batman!" a woman exclaimed as he stepped around her. "My nephew loves you!"

"Shhhh," a man beside her admonished.

Dropping her voice to a whisper, she continued, "Will you autograph this book for him?"

The woman held out the book she had just taken off the shelf while rummaging through her purse for a pen.

"I'm sorry, miss, but I'm trying to find Robin. And that book belongs to the library."

With that quick but polite reprimand, Batman jogged away. The woman looked up, disappointed, and murmured, "I would have bought the book!"

Thirty-two seconds later, Batman rounded the corner of the last aisle in the fiction section. There was Robin, lying on his back with his left arm draped across his chest. The boy wasn't moving but Batman took note of his steady breathing as he crouched beside his young partner.

"Robin, can you hear me?"

The Boy Wonder mumbled some indistinguishable words then slowly opened his eyes.

"Wha'…happened?" he asked quietly.

The words were slurred and Batman was slightly concerned.

"I was hoping you could tell me, chum," the Caped Crusader replied. "You were saying that everything was fine over here but then you stopped talking and the next voice I heard belonged to Bookworm."

"Bookworm? Who's that? And, uh, why are you hiding your face?"

Raising his eyebrows, Batman responded, "I have an identity to protect, Robin."

"Why?" the boy inquired. Then he gasped, abruptly sat up and pushed himself away from his partner.

"Are you some…some kind of criminal?"

"What?" Batman exclaimed softly. "No, I'm – we're – duly deputized agents of the law!"

Robin's eyes widened and he raised a hand to his face. He felt a piece of fabric and, following it with his hand, discovered that it was wrapped around his head.

"Why…what…who am I?"

Now it was Batman who widened his eyes. Robin was glancing around as if searching for something and the hero immediately noticed the irregular-shaped bump on the back of the boy's head. He raised his hand to touch the injury but his partner, who was now staring into his eyes, flinched.

Dropping his hand, Batman stated, "You're Robin, the Boy Wonder. You're my partner; we fight crime together."

Confusion filled the light-blue eyes of the boy. This was going to take some explaining, Batman realized, so he went from a crouch to his knees.

"And who…who are you?" Robin mumbled. His voice was shaking slightly and fear joined the confusion radiating from his eyes.

"I'm Batman. We find and capture villains. Bookworm was here with you and something happened. Do you remember anything?"

"So you're a bat and I'm a bird?" the boy whispered skeptically.

"Well…it's a long story," Batman replied with a sigh. "Before we get into that, can I check you for injuries?"

"Why would I be injured?" Robin asked.

"I think you were just attacked by a villain…"

"Bookworm?" the boy interrupted.

Nodding, Batman continued, "I can see a bump on the back of your head but I need to know if you have any other injuries."

"Why should I trust you? Don't touch me!" Robin yelped quietly when Batman raised his hand to feel the bump.

Dropping his hand again, the Caped Crusader stated, "It's something we do after every fight, chum. I'm your partner, you can trust me. We've been working together for four years."

"And I'm just supposed to believe you? Maybe you're actually one of the villains!"

Batman sighed again. "I'm not, Robin, we're crime-fighters. I think we should discuss this in the Batcave. It might help you remember something."

"I'm not going anywhere with you!" the Boy Wonder exclaimed. "You could be trying to trick me! I'm sure my parents have taught me about strangers!"

"Do you remember your parents?"

"Of course! They're…I, um…."

Robin trailed off and shook his head. He winced, an action Batman took note of, and squeezed his eyes shut.

"I don't," the boy admitted softly, a touch of distress woven through the words.

"Do you have a headache?" the Caped Crusader inquired quietly.

The Boy Wonder opened his eyes and began staring at the ground.

"Yes," he whispered. Lifting his head, the fourteen-year-old connected his eyes with the dark-blue ones of his partner. Tears began sliding down his cheeks and Batman recognized the pleading look in the solemn eyes.

"I can help you," Batman stated. "You're confused and scared and hurt but, if we go to the Batcave, I can explain everything. There's also a man there who can help with the pain."

"But I…I don't know you," Robin whispered despairingly. "Can you just, uh, call my parents or something?"

Shaking his head, the hero replied gently, "I can't call them, chum. And that's something that I can only explain in the Batcave."

Batman heard whispering coming from his right, his left and behind him. People were now surrounding the aisle, staring at the pair.

"He doesn't remember anything," a man muttered to the woman standing beside him. Batman frowned as the whispering increased in both speed and volume.

Standing up, he nearly growled, "Please, citizens, return to your normal activities. Robin is fine, he just got hit in the head. Everything is fine."

A woman at the end of the aisle tsked and shook her head. "You're lying to us, Batman," she murmured as she turned and walked away, joining the now-dispersing crowd.

"You're not lying…right?"

A quiet voice came from behind him and Batman turned around. There was a small girl, about six years old, staring up at him. Her wavy, blonde hair was framing her face and the light coming from behind made her look like a tiny angel. But disappointment outlined with betrayal filled her blue-gray eyes and she stepped around Batman toward Robin.

"It's okay, Robin," she said softly as she knelt beside him. "It's okay to not remember stuff. It happens to me all the time."

She smiled and lifted a small hand. Wiping some tears off the astonished face of the Boy Wonder, she continued, "But Batman will take care of you. He's nice, and he doesn't lie," she glanced accusingly up at the Caped Crusader, "so you can go with him. Don't be afraid."

"O…okay," Robin replied just as quietly. Her smile grew and her hand went from his face to his hair.

"Batman does this all the time," she announced as she ruffled the dark hair gently. "You guys are friends and he can help you."

This time her hand went from his head to his right hand. She grasped the green glove and stood up.

"Come on," she encouraged.

Robin slowly pushed himself to his feet. Dizziness assaulted him and he wanted to topple over but forced the feeling away. He knew that would scare her and she was the only person he could believe right now.

"You're my favorite hero," she stated sweetly. "You'll remember everything soon. You're smart and strong and, um, handsome."

Her small cheeks reddened slightly when she said the last word and she looked at the ground. Robin's left hand went under her chin and he gently lifted her face.

"Thanks," he said, "and you're adorable."

Her entire face lit up and, dropping his hand, she threw both arms around his waist and squeezed him tightly.

"After you remember everything, can we go to the park together? My name is Lisa Downey and I live by Gotham Central Park."

Robin grinned down at her. "We absolutely can."

"Thanks!" she squealed delightedly and raced away to find her mom.

Batman, who had been watching the exchange in amazement, carefully studied his young partner's face. It was still full of confusion but there was a tinge of confidence swimming in his eyes.

"Ready?" the Caped Crusader asked softly. The Boy Wonder flinched noticeably and Batman grimaced.

"Um…I guess so," Robin replied. "I don't know how much trust to place in the words of a six-year-old, but I'll go with you anyway."

"Okay," Batman stated.

The teenager swayed, closed his eyes and put a hand on his forehead. Batman reached out to steady him and, to his relief, Robin didn't pull away. Gently placing a muscular arm around the lithe shoulders, the Caped Crusader turned them around and guided his Boy Wonder through the library and out to the Batmobile.

Twelve minutes later:

Robin's eyes were open but they were filled with pain. He was staring out the windshield but taking in nothing. His hand was still on his head and he was mumbling to himself.

"We're here, chum," Batman declared softly as they pulled into the Batcave.

Robin started, glanced around and dropped his hand. Unbuckling his safety Bat-belt, the teenager opened the door and climbed out of the vehicle.

"Master Batman, Master Robin!" Alfred greeted them cheerfully. "Was your outing a success?"

"No," Batman stated flatly.

A look of concern filled the butler's face – Batman's voice had a slight warning tone to it and both heroes looked weary.

"Is this the, um, guy who can help with the pain?" Robin asked quietly.

Batman nodded and the Boy Wonder stared at the butler's face for a brief moment.

"Sorry, I, uh, don't remember you," he whispered, shame flitting around the words.

Alfred's eyes filled with shock. They moved from the face of Robin to the eyes of Batman, questions replacing the astonishment.

"As far as I know, he was hit in the head. Now he has a slight case of amnesia…"

"You call this a slight case?!" Robin shouted, startling both men. "I'm pretty sure that not remembering who I am, or anything else for that matter, qualifies as more than a slight case!"

"You don't remember…anything, young sir?" Alfred inquired, alarm filling his voice.

"Who are you, who is he, who am I?" Robin exclaimed, throwing his arms in the air. "And where are we and where are my parents and why can't I go home and every single other thing on the face of this planet?!"

The Boy Wonder folded his arms across his chest and began pacing around the entire Batcave. He stopped by the Bat-computer and then the Batphone, momentarily gazing at them with a confused yet thoughtful look on his face, before continuing to pace.

"Well, Master Robin," Alfred began, "first of all, my name is Alfred. And you are Robin, a strong, intelligent, athletic and cheerful young man."

The teenager dropped onto the nearest chair and put his head in his hands.

"Why?" he whispered miserably. "Why am I strong and athletic? Am I some kind of athlete? What sport do I play? How can I be intelligent if I can't even answer those simple questions?"

"Oh, dear," Alfred murmured. Glancing at Batman, he asked, "Where are you going to begin, sir?"

Batman removed his cowl and Alfred nodded slightly. "I agree, Master Bruce."

Robin looked up at those words. "Master Bruce? Why did you call him that?"

He was staring at Alfred but movement to his right caught his attention. Bruce had placed his cowl on the nearest desk and was now walking toward him.

"Do you want something for that headache before I start explaining things?" the man asked as he sat in a chair that was four feet away from his ward.

The boy nodded slightly and Alfred immediately went to get some Bat-aspirin and a cup of water. He made a quick decision while in the medical area and grabbed a pack of Bat-ice from the freezer. Returning to his two charges, the butler placed the pills and cup in Robin's hand then held up the package of Bat-ice.

"May I hold this on the back of your head while you are listening, Master Robin? You have a large, rather nasty looking bump."

After washing down the medicine, Robin nodded and stated, "Okay."

Gratitude raced through his still-masked eyes and that caused Alfred to ask another question.

"Is it alright if we take off your mask, young sir?"

It was confusion instead of gratitude this time but, after a short pause, Robin nodded again. The butler carefully untied the black material and removed it. Dick Grayson blinked a few times then connected his eyes with those of Bruce Wayne.

"I'm going to start at the very beginning," Bruce stated as Alfred gently pushed the ice against the boy's head. "Your name is Richard John Grayson, although you go by Dick. Your parents are John and Mary Grayson. You were growing up in a circus, Haly's Circus. You and your parents were trapeze artists, the most famous aerialists in the world. They were amazing and you had just begun to perform with them."

"Why are you using the past tense?" Dick inquired, a tinge of panic in his voice.

Bruce sighed before continuing.

"Something happened, Dick. They were performing and the trapeze wires broke and they fell. Your parents were mur…"

The millionaire trailed off when Alfred quietly cleared his throat.

"Your parents died," Bruce amended. "You became an orphan and I took you in. I'm your guardian and you are my ward."

Dick's eyes were wide and his breathing had become erratic.

"I can't…breathe," the fourteen-year-old whispered as he grabbed his chest.

Alfred began rubbing soothing circles on Dick's back and Bruce was by the boy's side in an instant, crouching in front of him. Grabbing a small hand, the millionaire placed it on his own chest and began taking deep breaths.

"Breathe with me, chum," he commanded gently. "Do it with me, Dick. In. Out. In. Out. That's right," he stated as the boy's breathing began slowing down.

Soon they were inhaling and exhaling at the same time. Bruce continued the action for another ten seconds, just to be sure.

"You're doing good," he murmured and Dick immediately pulled his hand away.

"Thanks," the boy mumbled.

The teenager's entire body was trembling slightly and Bruce glanced up at Alfred. Sympathy was in the older man's eyes but he nodded. Bruce stood up and returned to his chair. He didn't immediately continue, however, and Dick dropped his head.

"Go on," he whispered, his voice full of sadness and outlined with confusion. Placing his elbows on his knees, Dick laid his head in his hands and waited.

"I took you in…"

"How old was I?"

"Nine, chum, you were nine when it happened."

A strangled sob came from the boy's mouth and Bruce thought about pulling his ward into his arms. But he didn't think Dick would let him do that yet, so he pushed the thought away.

"How…how old am I now?"

"Fourteen."

"I can't even see their faces."

The mumbled words were thick with emotion and both men saw the glistening tears that began dripping onto the floor. There was a long pause but the silence wasn't awkward. Several minutes later Dick lifted his head. His eyes, still full of tears, connected with those of his guardian and he nodded.

"You can keep going," he stated softly before dropping his head back into his hands.

"Okay, you put up with me for about a year."

Alfred cleared his throat, louder this time. Bruce glanced up at him and the butler raised his eyebrows in disbelief. The millionaire sighed for what felt like the fiftieth time.

"Put up with you?"

The question interrupted the silent exchange between the two men.

"I wasn't very…I mean that I…you were just…"

It was Alfred who sighed this time.

"Master Bruce wasn't around very much for the first few months, Master Dick. He wasn't sure how to handle everything. What happened to you also happened to him, when he was eight."

"You were in the circus, too?" Dick inquired, looking up at his guardian again.

A small smile twitched at the corner of his mouth but Bruce held it in check.

"No, my parents died when I was young. We had – have – that in common and that's the first thing that drew me to you. I was at the circus when it happened and I couldn't…they were going to put you in foster care and…"

There was another long pause and, unlike the last one, this one was awkward.

"And…" Dick prodded.

"The social worker…there was no room in any orphanage and you can't just snap your fingers and have foster parents appear. They were going to put you in a detention center, Dick. You wouldn't have lasted long in there; I couldn't let that happen. So, you went home with me instead."

"Oh."

A bit of fear filled his voice when a picture of a bunch of young criminals entered Dick's mind. The man – Bruce, his guardian – was right. A nine-year-old orphan wouldn't have lasted long in there.

"Uh, thanks."

Bruce did smile this time. "You're welcome."

"Sorry I interrupted you," Dick stated as he glanced back at Alfred.

"There is nothing to apologize for, Master Dick. Ask any questions you want to ask at any time you want to ask them. This is a lot of information for you to process."

Looking at Bruce again, Dick motioned for him to continue.

"I admit I wasn't around very much at first. You were so sad and scared and all the memories of my parents' death were becoming fresh in my mind again. I'm not the best when it comes to dealing with emotions…"

There was a chuckle from behind him and Dick glanced back again. The butler was smirking slightly and the boy didn't understand the joke.

"Okay, fine, Alfred, I'm not even on the charts!" Bruce exclaimed and Dick winced.

"Sorry," Bruce lowered his voice.

"Master Dick, by way of explanation, Master Bruce is excellent at bottling up all of his emotions and never letting them escape."

"Why would you want to do that?"

The question was directed at the millionaire, who scowled in annoyance.

"I…this isn't about me! Do you want me to explain your life to you or not?!"

The question was growled and Dick dropped his head again.

"You can stop, if you want. I don't want to be a bother."

Bruce huffed in irritation. The conversation wasn't going in the right direction and he needed to get it back on track.

"You're not a bother, Dick," he declared with a tinge of anger in his tone.

"Okay," the boy responded before getting up and walking away.

Bruce looked at Alfred, who was shaking his head in disapproval.

"What?!" the younger man demanded.

"Sir, he doesn't remember you. He doesn't know that your anger is not directed at him. To Master Dick, sir, you sound frustrated. Why would he think that you're frustrated with anyone besides himself? He doesn't know – doesn't remember – your personality, sir."

Bruce roughly ran a hand through his hair. Dick was all the way on the other side of the Batcave now, wandering aimlessly around, so the millionaire turned to the Bat-computer. Before he could begin inputting information, a hand lightly rested itself on his shoulder.

"It would not be wise to ignore him, sir."

Alfred's gentle rebuke was quiet but firm. The faithful butler walked to the medical area in order to return the pack of Bat-ice to the freezer. Taking the advice, Bruce stood up and strode toward the pacing boy.