Disclaimer: I do not own any of these guys or places. DC is keeping them all to himself. -sob-

Author's Note: Now there it is, my first published story in English. This will be a longer one if I'll manage and it's dedicated to a dear friend of mine. All in all it will be a collection of eight one-shots which somehow relate to each other. I know very well that I'll be mixing up the world of Batman a lot in this story but those who don't like it won't be forced to read. (:

I love the characters very much and they became dear to me over the years, so this could be seen as a tribute. My story for them - but still relating to the original one.

I'm not sure if I'll be able to update this frequently but I'll try my best. But so much for now. Please enjoy the reading. ( hopefully )

1ST: The Boy Who Matured.

„Robin!"

The young man didn't listen. Instead, furious, he stormed upstairs and slammed the door shut which separated the bat-cave from the mansion. Somehow separated two lives. Two identities.

Bruce was left behind in the cave, still in his bat-suite and sighing deeply as he put the mask off. Dick had been quite rebellious lately and he didn't know how to cope with it. Teenagers truly were a pain sometimes.

Weary he pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes for a moment, intentionally letting himself fall into the seat in front of the huge bat-computer.

Opening his eyes, he stared at the black screen, facing his own reflection.

Somehow, Bruce knew he had changed. He knew he had become more brutal and impulsive in his actions lately. Therefore he knew Robin was right somehow. It wasn't fully rightless of him to criticise his mentor but weren't his own actions justified, too?

Didn't the villains deserve some punishment after all they've done themselves? Didn't they deserve to taste the bitter pill of their own medicine for once?

Of course he knew the answer to that himself. They did. But he wasn't the one to impose their penalties. Hadn't he, himself always been the one to say: 'Most important is that we don't kill, Robin. We don't want to hurt them physically even though we'll bring justice over their actions. Worst of all would be to become like them, ruthless and brutal, hurting others to reach our goal – a villain, a monster.'

How hypocritical must he look in his wards eyes now.

"I'm leaving."

The smooth voice of said ward shook him out of his thoughts. Slowly he turned in the chair he'd been occupying and watched his 'son' approach his motorcycle, fastening a big sport-bag to the back of the black bike.

"And where do you think you're going? This late and alone."

"Away from here."

A frown began to form itself on Bruce's face. Until now Dick had never threatened to leave the manor. Sure, he had proclaimed to quit being Robin before if Batman wouldn't change his attitude – but leaving him?

"You overdid it tonight, Bruce. Again. You simply crossed the line. Again."

"I know, Dick … and I'm sorry, I-"

"No, you aren't! That's the problem, Bruce. Batman thinks they deserve it! What happened to our golden "No-killing-or-hurting"-rule? What about "we don't want to become like on of them"? Don't you realize what's happening to you?"

Even though Dick did his best to hide it, Bruce could hear the slight desperation in his ward's voice. He had tried to make him realize. Had done his best to shake his 'father' out of his madness. He tried to save him from becoming … a monster.

But what could a single boy do?

A child, telling an adult what to do? What's right and what's not? A circus-boy, an orphan even, telling the mighty and smart Bruce Wayne that what he was doing was wrong?

Bruce finally stood up and left his place in front of the bat-computer. While Dick was still trying to prepare his bike – without much success because of his shaking hands – Bruce began to make his way towards his ward. Even though Dick hardly tried to act as if he was determined to no limit, it had been hard to finally make this decision. The decision to ring down the curtain on this fucked up situation.

"Dick, you can't be serious."

The older man had reached the young acrobat and found his shoulders shaking. If it was because of his anger or maybe tears he was fighting back, he didn't knew. Dick had to pull all his will together not to just let Bruce get through with it again. He had to grow up so he could help his mentor as an adult!

A child wasn't able to break a man like Bruce Wayne out of some madness like this one but if he got himself to mature a bit faster he surely would succeed. Dick was sure of that.

"I'm dead serious, Bruce. I don't want to be in contact with you and the others for a while."

The young man turned around and let his sky-blue eyes meet with the ones of his 'father' for the first time during this conversation. And somehow it frightened him. He was positive that it wasn't visible to an outsider but inside these dark orbs Dick could see the hatred, the man had been holding in for so long, slowly leaking out. Hate, that had extended itself even further inside his mentor's body over the years. Hate, Dick couldn't prevent from tainting Bruce's soul, which hurt the young man's heart the most.

He had been there but didn't do anything.

"Dick, I don't believe this. I won't accept this. You'll stay. I'll try to change, alright? You're right, I-"

"You said that the last time, too. And the one before that. And all the other times. You even promised! You've hurt this man badly! In front of his wife and son! Even though he was a bad guy – that doesn't justify your brutal manner!"

"Dick, please. I'm sorry, give me one last chance … it's hard."

Bruce slowly realized how determined Dick was even though it was hard for the boy as well. Firmly he gripped the smaller man's shoulders and squeezed them slightly.

"Please, Robin."

His ward didn't look at him – he couldn't, instead he looked at the floor. Slowly and controlled, although his hands were still shaking, he reached up to cover Bruce's left hand with his own. Taking it and putting something into the older man's palm, closing all fingers around it. Not until now he raised his gaze and dark met shining blue for the second time.

"Don't call me that. I'm not Robin anymore."

Dick's voice was strong as he pressed Bruce's now balled fist into the man's strong chest before he turned around and took his dark-blue helmet.

No, he wasn't a robin anymore, the once little bird spread his wings to fledge and somehow had matured a little already.

When Bruce looked down in his hand he saw it was the Robin-badge he was holding.

Dick pulled the helmet on and swung one leg over the dark motorcycle, looking over his shoulder for a last time, face hidden by the black ventail.

"I'm no longer a robin. From now on I'm Nightwing."