"You were in a coma, Robin."

"For 20 minutes! That's just a nap."

"This isn't a joking matter. You're coming back to the Batcave, now." Batman fixed Robin with the glare he saved for likes of Joker. Unfortunately, Dick had grown up with that glare.

"I'm fine here, thanks."

"Not up for debate," Batman tapped in his authorization code for the cave. He didn't wait around for Robin to follow, because the threat of him firing Robin was still fresh in the boy's mind. He heard the barely audible sound of feet dragging behind him.

"Recognized Batman, 0-2, Robin B-0-1."

Robin rounded on Batman as soon as they were in the cave. He ripped off his mask to glare at his father. However, Bruce had already left his ward in the dust. He was stripping out of the suit, littering the floor of the cave with various bits of the suit.

"Bruce!" He shouted, his frustration seeping through his usually calm demeanor. "God! Would you just listen to me!? I don't want to be coddled any more. You need to start trusting me. You should have told us about the training more, so we would have known what to expect. That way you wouldn't be pissed at me when your plan goes bad!"

Bruce went quiet as he finished removing the last of his suit. He turned to his ward, his eyes set in grim determination. Dick licked his lips nervously as Bruce glared down at him.

"It's not you I don't trust, it's the others. Miss Martian has powers that even her own uncle doesn't know about. She's dangerous," His eyes flashed as Dick opened his mouth to defend his friend. "and we're damned lucky that she's on our side. Tonight's little… episode only proved that my fears were correct. I've always told you to keep them at an arms-length. I have back up plans in case any leaguers go AWOL. I have backup plans if those back up plans fail but the only way that any of those plans work is if we know their weaknesses –"

"Fire stops the Martians no matter what!" Dick interrupted.

"Yes, it does. But Miss Martian has proven herself capable of significant psychic powers. Who's to stay that she simply couldn't block the fire with her own telekinesis?"

"She's not Zatanna, Bruce. She can only manipulate people with her mind."

"That's exactly the problem. She could take control of you and use you to extinguish the flames. It's simply too dangerous, Dick. You're quitting Young Justice. Effective immediately."

"What!? No!" Dick shouted, flinging his domino mask to the floor. "You can't make me quit."

"Then you're fired."

Dick realized he kicked Bruce in the back of the head after he landed to the right of him. Bruce dropped to the ground, swinging his left leg in a wide arc on the floor. Dick's legs were kicked out from underneath him, sending him to the floor. He caught himself in a backbend and jumped up, throwing a fist towards Bruce's unprotected face. The billionaire blocked Dick's punches easily, dodging as the youth swung with all his might.

"Enough," Bruce growled, twisting around and placing Dick in a headlock. "You're too violatile. From this moment on," he loosened his grip a bit. "You are fired, and banned from any patrols or access to the Batcave or any of your vehicles, equipment. You will only have access to Wayne manor."

Dick twisted out of Bruce's grip with an angry grunt. He glared up at his mentor with a rage he had never felt in his life before. He reached up to his shoulders, unclipping his cape and throwing it to the floor. Without another word to Bruce, he left the cave. The short elevator ride back to the study wasn't near long enough for the young ward to cool off. He stomped through the study and up the wooden grand staircase to his room. The old butler peeked out from the kitchen just as Bruce emerged from the study.

"Sir?"

"Dick probably won't be joining me for dinner," He rubbed the back of his neck.

"And why is that?"

"Because I just fired Robin."

"I see," Alfred turned to go back to the kitchen. "Because it makes perfect sense to stop doing the one thing that wears Master Dick out," He grumbled as he returned to the kitchen.

Bruce scowled at his old friend. He didn't expect Alfred to understand his reasoning, but he also didn't feel like placating the both of them. As Bruce passed Dick's room, the door slammed shut so fiercely that the priceless paintings on the wall shuddered.

The boy ran to his shower, slamming the door to the bathroom as well. He collapsed to the floor in a puddle of frustration and began raking his fingers through his thick, black, hair as he thought of his options. He could possibly sneak down into the cave and wait – for how long he had no idea – for batman to go out onto patrol. His hacking skills were still new and untested; but he bet that he could take a crack at the Batcave's operating system. Bruce had been stupid for teaching him how to hack on that mainframe in particular. Slowly, the young boy rose to his feet and turned on the shower to a nice, chilly temperature. Even after four years of living with Bruce, he still craved the cold waters he bathed in while he was still a Flying Grayson in Haly's Circus. Old habits die hard, Alfred had said. As he stepped under the spray, angry tears finally broke through. Dick slumped to the floor once again. Batman needed Robin! Before Robin, the Dark Knight was exactly that – dark. Dick wasn't a fool. He had seen the various news reports that showed just how brutal the Batman had been – branding criminals, leaving them hanging from the Washington Street Bridge, and interrogating them 40 stories above the ground in mid-air. All of those actions screamed recklessness, screamed irresponsibility. Robin made Batman human. (Well, as human as one could be in Gotham City).

But the worst part was that Bruce still treated him like a child. No matter how many times he faced off against Two Face, Joker, Penguin, or Mr. Freeze, no one took him seriously. Not Bruce, not batman, not even his own team. He'd been fighting crime longer than anyone on the team had been – but he was still the youngest. Dick swallowed. He needed to leave Gotham. Maybe Batman was on to something. Dick needed to fight crime somewhere else. He turned off the shower, grabbing one of the plush towels that hung from the brass bar. He wouldn't wear the pajamas Bruce had given him tonight – no, he wanted to wear John Grayson's old shirt and a pair of boxers. Dick settled into the plush bed.