Disclaimer: all characters belong to DC. I'm just borrowing them, but I promise I'll return them in good condition.

Note: This story is set at some time shortly before Robin: Unmasked.

Thanks to Char for the beta!

Keeping Promises

"Re-so-lu-tions?" Cass sounded out the word carefully. "For… New Year?"

Tim nodded energetically. "Sure. New Year's is a time to take stock of your life, and figure out where you're going and what you'd like to accomplish."

The older vigilante scowled. She had to be missing something. "But… I already do. Always."

"Well… yeah," Tim said. "But this helps you concretize it."

Cass' scowl grew deeper. "Concretize," she repeated. "To make like concrete? Hard? Solid? Unbreakable?"

Tim grinned. "You got it."

"So… I make promise to do something different this year." Cass said dubiously, still not sure she understood. "Like what?"

The youth shrugged. "I dunno. Anything."

Some help he was. She considered her options. She could train harder. No, she couldn't. She already spent more than half the daylight hours practicing her combat skills, and almost the entire night using them in the field. Maybe… relax more? She imagined explaining that to Batman. He didn't relax. And she didn't really feel the need to. Barbara still wanted her to learn to read. In fact, she'd even given Cass an alphabet book last week for Christmas. Cass sighed inwardly. While she had to admit that it was frustrating sometimes asking for help when she needed to know what a word said, actually trying to master the talent herself felt like it would require too much effort for too little return. So far, Cass reflected, she had managed just fine without that skill. It just wasn't as important to her as it was to Barbara. Her eyes narrowed. "What did you pick?"

"Me?" Tim flushed. "Um… well…"

"Tim?"

He sighed. "I resolved to get Bruce to slow down a bit more."

"What?" She couldn't be hearing him right.

Tim nodded. "And to master Baranta."

"Baran…"

"It's a Hungarian martial art."

"Oh. And you started learning this… when?"

Tim cleared his throat, reddening slightly. "I… need to find a teacher."

Cass felt her eyebrows draw together. "So you promise to make other person do something he probably won't do, and you want to become expert at new fighting style when you don't know enough to be… beginner?"

"Well…"

"Tim," Cass said softly, "why resolve to do… these?" How could he not see it? "You'll… fail."

Tim shrugged. "Well, that's kind of part of the fun."

What? She had to have heard him wrong. "Fun."

"Sure. Ask anyone. Everyone makes resolutions on January 1st. By January 15th, most people forget all about them." He chuckled. "Last year, Bruce resolved to learn how to make toast. One scorched countertop later, Alfred resolved to take early retirement if Bruce ever again used a kitchen appliance that wasn't designed to keep food cold." He hesitated. "Okay, maybe Alfred keeps his… Or at least, Bruce hasn't been near the toaster oven since."

This time her smile matched his. She sobered. "But why… make promises in the first place if only to… break them?"

Tim shrugged again. "I dunno. It's kind of a tradition." He sighed. "Maybe it helps to remember where our weaknesses are. Even if we forget again a few days later. Sometimes, maybe it just helps to set aside a day to stop and think."

"Concretize." Cass decided that she liked the sound of the word. "Con… cre… tize."

"Right. I thought it might be fun. But if it's not your thing, that's okay too." He looked at his watch. "I'd better get going. I still need to get a workout in before supper. See you on patrol, later?"

Cass nodded, as she mulled over their conversation. "Bye."

She was still thinking things through several hours later, when she returned from her night's work. It just didn't make sense. Why make promises so lightly? What was the purpose of setting oneself impossible goals? Did they really have to be impossible? And why, she frowned, was she taking this so seriously? It wasn't as though there would be any tangible consequences if she failed. And if she didn't tell anyone, then if she did fail, then nobody would know. And if somebody did… if Tim was right, then nobody really expected her to keep her resolutions anyway.

She hesitated. Slowly, she peeled off her mask and let it fall to the floor. She drew a deep breath. "Resolved," she stated. "I will not let the… the knowing that I could fail… stop me from trying to learn." That would have to do. It wasn't a grand impossible promise, but it was one she thought she could keep. And if she failed, well, she'd keep trying.

She reached into the back of her sock drawer and fumbled past the soft pairs of cotton and woolen stockings to pull out the alphabet book. She gripped it in both hands, and drew another breath. "I can," she said fiercely. "I can!"