A/N At the request from someone who reviewed, this story will continue. I've expanded on this part somewhat, trying to bring in a little more emotion, and a little more thought. Please, it may take me a while to write the following parts of this story, so bear with me. Robin is going to face a foe that he has never faced before. It will be someone he does not expect. I hope I will do the story justice, and Robin will find justice for Bruce.

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Forever Robin

By

AJ

The man scrutinized himself in the mirror. His body was athletic with firm, well-developed muscles. His abs were tight, proving that his core was strong to do what he needed to do. His thighs had the look of a runner as well as strong calves needed for jumping. His arms and shoulders were muscular, but not overly so. His chest, though not as broad, still had the look of a body builder half his age. In fact, he had the body of what could be a twenty year old, but the graying hair at his temples told another story. Though his body was strong, it also could tell a story that would cause a Mother to worry. Scars from knives and bullets graced his body, tell tale signs that his profession was a dangerous one. His blue eyes shone with an intensity that rivaled any gaze.

The man gave a sigh then turned away from the mirror to continue dressing. Putting on a pair of black pants, a crisp white shirt, a black tie, and a black suit jacket, the man sat on the bed, put his socks on and a pair of black shoes. He shook his head then opened the door and walked down the hall to the stairs. He had walked down this hall and these stairs countless times in his life, since he came to live in this house. This would not be the last time. This, however, was the first time that he would be doing it as its master.

The will stipulated that he was now the owner. The former owner wanted him to know that if something should happen. He not only was the master of the house, he was now heir to everything the man owned. The man that waited in the hallway tried his best to keep his composure, but it was so difficult to not be moved for the one whose body lay in state in the next room. Everyone would be arriving soon.

A gentleman, now in his 80's moved beside him.

"Should I open the door, Master Richard?"

"Please, Alfred," Richard Grayson said.

People started filing in. They shook hands with the man then moved into the room, taking a seat. The room, though large, would not be able to fit them all. It would be standing room only at the end. A red-headed woman wheeled in a man in a wheelchair.

"Barbara, I'm glad you came."

"My father wanted to say goodbye. You know they were such good friends."

Richard Grayson bent down to talk with the man in the wheelchair. "It's good of you Commissioner Gordon."

"I am not the Commissioner any more, boy," the older man said with a knowing wink. "Your father will be missed."

"He really wasn't my father," Dick said reminding the elderly man.

"In his eyes, you were his son. You could see it in his eyes every time he looked at you. It didn't have to be on paper for it to be true."

"I know. Actually, he did make it official, when I was 18. He wanted to surprise me after I returned from my first year of college, but other things got in the way. The courts finally said yes to him, even after my guardianship was up. I learned about it a year later."

"Why didn't you add the name of Wayne to your last name?" Barbara asked.

"Oh, I don't know. I guess it was just easier to keep the name of Grayson. Bruce understood though. He knew how much I loved my parents and what they meant to me. Adding the name of Wayne was so I could act as his executor if something were to happen. And he wanted to be certain that everything was in good hands. Well, should we go in?"

The three of them moved into the large living room. The piano that sat in the corner had been moved into the library. The rest of the furniture had been stored. An open casket sat in the center of the room surrounded by chairs. There were three empty chairs in the front, waiting to be filled. Barbara Gordon moved her father's wheelchair to the front beside the three chairs. Dick Grayson took the first chair up closest to the head of the casket. Alfred sat next to Dick. Barbara took the third seat.

"Is there no other family?" someone asked.

"No," Dick said. There had been three others, but they had been gone now for several years. "We can begin."

A minister entered and began the ceremony to honor the man that they now were putting to rest. There were quiet sobs in the background. Members of Bruce's hunt club, some from the Wayne Foundation, and even members of the Board from Wayne Enterprises. All were mourning the loss of this great man. When the minister came to the part where Bruce took in the orphaned ten-year old, Dick Grayson's mind flew back to the first time he met Bruce Wayne. The memory felt like it was only yesterday.

"I'm going to trust you with a secret I've never revealed to anyone else . . . My real identity! I'm socialite Bruce Wayne."

'I didn't know there was a Batman, let alone there was a Bruce Wayne. Now, he's gone," Dick fought the tears, not wanting to break down. Though Bruce would have understood. By not breaking down, he wanted to honor his partner the Batman, to show him he could be strong. 'I promised never to reveal his secret.'

And since that day, Dick Grayson hadn't revealed that secret to a living soul. He would take that secret to the grave. All too soon, people were standing to share their memorable moments of his guardian, no . . . father. Bruce was his father when he needed one. He was there to help him with his homework, to teach him on being a good citizen, and the moral implications of when the decision you make turns out to be the wrong one, such as when he decided to move out. He remembered meeting a punk kid named Chino who was bent on using him to lure Batman into a trap to kill him. His foolish decision had nearly gotten not only Batman killed, but Alfred as well. In truth, he really did feel terrible for running out on Bruce.

'I don't even remember what set it off. Teenage angst and wanting a little more freedom I guess. I should not have allowed it to interfere in my duties as Robin . . .'

"The procession is ready, Master Dick," Alfred said.

"Oh, yeah," Dick said, his thoughts still somewhat in the past.

Dick looked up to see five people waiting. The lid of the casket had not been lowered yet. Dick moved to stand in front of Bruce's remains. He placed his hand on the man's chest. Hoping beyond hope, but there was no warmth. Death finally claimed Gotham's protector. Only a Lazarus Pit might bring him back, but Bruce would not have wanted that. Death was a part of life, and although was often feared, it always comes in the end.

"Goodbye . . . Dad," Dick had never used the word . . . until now. He never needed to. Bruce knew how he felt toward him. There was no need to use the title. Bruce sometimes would call him "son," but he really didn't need to either; Dick knew. Today though was different. He was saying goodbye to a second father, and it felt right that he should acknowledge him in this way. Dick slowly lowered the lid, slipping something inside between Bruce's hands that no one else could see, an old batarang, the one that Bruce had when they first met. He heard the tell-tale clicking of the locking mechanism, closing the lid in place with a finality that felt like a door closing. More than a door, it felt like his heart was breaking. There was a hole in his soul that would never be filled, again.

Dick took his place on the right side of the procession. He could have had someone else be the sixth man, but he wanted to do this for his guardian and father. It felt right. Bruce had carried him many times, and now it was his turn. Bruce would be laid to rest next to his parents on their right. When it would be his turn, Dick would lay next to Bruce on his right. On Dick's right were his parents. They were joined in life by a common bond, and they would be forever joined in death. Batman would have his Robin forever.

The procession walked to the grave site and lowered the casket on top of the straps that would be used to lower it into the ground. A canopy had been raised to protect it from the weather. As soon as the casket was in position, it started to rain.

'Funny, Bruce told me that it rained on the day he buried his parents. It also rained on the day they buried mine. Now it's raining on the day I'm burying another parent.'

Dick looked passed the stones where there were three other markers, smaller than the others. He scanned them briefly and read their names.

'Jason, he was the only one of us to died twice. Ironically from a bullet of his own making. Tim, he died saving others when a plane crashed into a building. Damian, he barely reached his teens before the genetic engineering that created him started breaking down. All of them Robin at one time. Bruce was devastated by each one, but he still picked himself up and found a way to carry on. Out of love and honor, I decided to take up the mantle of Robin, again, and return to Batman's side. He needed me. That was ten years ago. Now, Robin must carry on alone.'

Dick hadn't noticed when the crowd dispersed and when the first shovel was being dropped into the grave. All he was aware of was that he stood alone. Memories kept playing through his mind, both good and bad, until someone was approaching with a lantern. Night had descended.

"Come Master Dick, you must return to the house. Everyone has gone home."

"I can't leave him, Alfred."

"You intend to stand vigil all night?"

"Yes," Dick answered. He could do no less. "Bruce did it with each of his other sons. He would have done the same for me."

"Very well. I shall leave the lantern."

"No, please. Leave me in the dark."

"You are your father's son," Alfred said, remembering that Bruce had said the same thing for each of the others. "I shall return in the morning."

Dick stood alone as the light from the lantern faded. Alone in the darkness. Dick allowed his grief to overtake him. In truth, he felt like that lost ten year old boy, again. "Bruce, I don't know what I'm going to do."

"You will do what you have always done, Master Dick. Carry on," Alfred said looking after his charge some distance away, though Dick could not hear the words.

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When morning came Alfred found Dick Grayson in the study. He was sitting at the desk, holding an envelope with his name written on the front in Bruce's hand.

"I made a light breakfast, Master Dick."

Dick did not answer, but stated instead, "He left me a letter to be opened only after he was buried."

"What does it say?"

"Dear Dick,

The mantle is now yours. I know you never wanted this. When I was going through time and did not know who I was, there was one face I kept seeing that got me through. That face was yours. You were my anchor Dick, the one person I knew who would figure out the truth. You must figure out the truth now. Find the person responsible. Batman must live, but most of all, to quote Tim, "Batman needs a Robin." I know you will learn the truth. I love you, my son, and good hunting.

Love,

Bruce."

"Curious," Alfred said.

"I'm sure you're thinking what I'm thinking."

"You are certain."

"Yes, Alfred. Bruce did not die of natural causes. He knew he had enemies. For a man who was only 55, he was in perfect health. That's why it was so shocking. The only reason I have this letter is because he knew someone got to him. He wanted me to find this letter."

"What will you do? Will you become Batman to solve his murder?" Alfred asked.

"No," Dick answered. "It will be Robin who solves his murder. There is only one Batman, and I buried him. I am Robin and I will remain Robin forever."

To Be Continued