Notes: This plot actually came from Unseen Watcher (thanks!) - I just tweaked it a bit and fleshed out what I had. Hope you like what I did.
Notes2: I'm still working on my other fic. It's really being difficult T_T
The gleaming metal of the sleek craft was made of an unknown alloy. Neither of the Green Lanterns had encountered it before nor was it in the Kryptonian archives; and Martian Manhunter was currently on Mars for a brief information exchange so there was no one else the Justice League could ask for expertise on repairing the spaceship that had crashed in an unused field near Texas.
But the aliens - Ipphirans - insisted that the Justice League's help was enough for the ship to become space-worthy again. So Superman, both Green Lanterns, and Flash all worked on fixing the ship with guidance from the Ipphirans.
The whole time they were doing repairs though, Green Lantern John Stewart worried whether they were being duped. "Wouldn't be too hard to pull off," he muttered in an aside to Superman, "Pretend to be injured, bring down their caution, and boom!"
To Superman's relief, that was not the case.
"Honor strangers," the lead Ipphiran bowed, speaking in stilted English as it and its companion approached Superman in the hangar. A Green Lantern ring worked as a useful translator when needed and Hal didn't even have to be close during the entire exchange. "Ipphirans gratitude for transport repair. Delay short than expect."
"We're glad enough to help," Superman replied, interpreting the aliens' speech as an expression of gratitude that the JLA repaired their ship quickly so their stay on Earth wouldn't be longer than necessary. He thought it amusing that the Ipphirans don't seem to have past or future tenses in their speech, maybe not even pre- or suffixes.
He had landed in front of the two aliens as soon as he finished checking the repairs on the spaceship, once again taking on his role as the JLA's public leader. The League had agreed to transport both aliens and ship to the hangar of Mount Justice - so they could make use of the hideout's resources and keep an eye on the aliens in case they turn out to be hostile. The hangar not only provided the needed equipment, but it can also be secured quickly with only one access into the rest of the Mountain. Much as Clark wanted to believe the best of these Ipphirans, Superman had learned to listen to Batman's precautions.
"Ipphirans honor-bond." The tall alien continued, raising its thin arms in supplication. "Ipphirans require give reparations."
From what Clark understood, the aliens were honor-bound to give something back for the services the JLA gave them and Superman could think of several ways where accepting their gift could prove disastrous; like accepting a poisoned meal or a powerful artifact. In the JLA's experience, these gifts have a tendency to become double-edged swords. The story of the Trojan Horse had proven not only precautionary but also necessary when dealing with alien cultures.
"That's alright," Superman held up a hand to refuse but the Ipphiran was having none of it with a disapproving hum.
"Superman give name. Ipphirans do same." One three-fingered hand gestured at itself. "Zheiv." The hand moved to indicate its companion. "Shiov." Then a wave towards the unmoving lump lying off to the side, covered by a white tarp, "Rioph."
Superman's expression became solemn as he remembered the third member of the Ipphirans' exploratory party. Rioph had been crushed by one of the ship's consoles and despite the JLA's efforts, died shortly after the crash.
"I'm sorry about Rioph..." Superman began only to be interrupted once again by Zheiv.
"Not blame," the alien said reassuringly. "Blame waste. Ipphirans live."
Clark was glad the aliens didn't blame them for the crash. He's known of a few politicians who would happily assign blame even where there was none (much as he hated to think so low of humans). The Ipphirans were wise in that they considered blaming as a waste of time. There was much humanity could learn from the Ipphirans, in his opinion.
"So," Superman cleared his throat, getting back to the previous topic. He doesn't always receive gifts of gratitude from people he'd saved, and he often felt awkward when those were offered him. But it wouldn't do to offend any alien race by a slight of manners so he decided to accept the gift with grace. "What kind of reparation are you suggesting?"
The two aliens exchanged looks - Clark had the impression the Ipphirans were telepathic like the Martians - then both turned back to him. "Gift of memory. Justice League give help. Ipphirans do same. Your best memory. Ipphirans make it live."
"What do you mean?"
"Something come up?" Green Lantern Hal Jordan came to land beside Superman, concern on his face. But his approach seemed to please the aliens as Zheiv gave a happy-sounding trill.
"Green Lantern!" The Ipphiran chirped. "Moment, please," a thin arm reached up and slim fingers lightly brushed Green Lantern's left temple.
All at once, Superman found himself surrounded by blinking machines, with a weight on his head and his vision partially obscured. He was watching the clouds to his right as he zoomed past and it was then he realized he was in a plane and the weight on his head was a helmet. It was when he couldn't take his eyes away from the clouds to look at anything else and when he couldn't stop feeling a strange kind of elation bubbling from his stomach that he came to the conclusion: he must be in Hal's memory.
Hal Jordan, the first Green Lantern in the JLA, had sometimes spoken of the first time he flew a plane, of the joy he felt when flying. That first joy, he'd said, trumped the joy he felt when the Green Lantern ring levitated him. Piloting a plane had taken years of perseverance and hard work; Hal had earned the skill to fly while the Green Lantern ring was handed over to him by a dying alien. It was the effort exerted that made everything worthwhile.
The living memory stayed for another moment before his surroundings gradually faded back into the hangar of Mount Justice.
"Whoa, what was that?" Hal exclaimed beside Superman, his face bright.
"First flight memory," Zheiv explained, sounding very pleased with itself. "Gift to Justice League. Best memory to experience again."
"So you'll make us relive our fondest memories for a minute or two? That's your gift?"
"Yes."
Hal grinned, clapping a hand over Clark's shoulder. "It's a great gift! I haven't felt this good in weeks!"
"So the whole thing..." Clark interrupted, "it wasn't unpleasant at all?"
"You kidding me? The first time they let me pilot one of those F-35's? It was the best day of my life." The grin turned wistful. "With all the work the JLA's been getting lately, I'd almost forgotten how it felt that day."
Superman smiled and turned back to the Ipphirans. "Alright. Let's hash out the details first before we proceed to ah...accept your gift."
Batman ran past a startled Wonder Woman as he left the Zeta room and straight for the med bay.
"Flash!" He called when he spotted a dash of red at the corner of his eye. "Med bay! Now!"
Whatever response the speedster gave, he paid no attention to it. Right now, the most important priority he had was in his arms and not in exchanging chitchat with the other heroes.
He was strapping Robin onto one of the cots when the speedster finally came in.
"Hey, Bats, what's- What happened to Robin!"
Batman didn't bother to face him as he finished buckling the final strap to his partner's ankles. "Scarecrow."
Flash winced. All of the JLA members knew what the Gotham rogue specialized in, and all of the founding members had an idea of exactly how that specialty affects their favorite nephew. "Is he...?"
"He's sedated for now." Batman stood up to face the speedster. "But it'll wear off in a few minutes and I don't dare give him more."
"Right. So if you're not sure how a sedative will affect the toxin running through Robin's system, I'm guessing it's a new formula?"
"My current antidotes have no effect." Batman agreed, turning to make sure the boy was as comfortable as possible despite the straps.
Flash nodded and stepped closer. "Tell me you managed to get a sample of the toxin."
Batman smiled grimly. "The last nine remaining vials."
"I'll get the gas chromatograph."
When Dick woke, he couldn't move.
There was no weight on him so it wasn't Zitka sitting on him, but his arms and legs were held down by...straps? Oh, he must have fallen asleep during Pesha's practice. He hoped the magician wasn't angry at him for wasting time by falling asleep. They were nearing their Gotham show and everyone needed to get all the practice they could squeeze in. When his dad said Gotham had a black pin on it - meaning they had to pull out all the stops and bring down the house - Dick had been spending as much time as he could with his cousin John, hoping that by being very available, they'd finally let him join the final act.
Speaking of which, they were supposed to be practicing a couple of hours after Pesha's practice!
Dick wiggled to get out of the straps. It took some doing, (did Pesha get new straps? These were hard!) but he managed to free himself in two minutes and then he was rushing out of the bright trailer.
Then it was a matter of searching his way past the trailers, half-finished stalls, and colorful tents to find out where the Graysons' practice was being held that day.
The tents were unusually bright today, like they were almost reflecting light. And the wind felt cool even though it should be in the middle of the afternoon. Dick shrugged and continued looking. Maybe Gotham was colder than their previous stop.
He passed by several tents with people inside them. For some reason, the tent flaps flipped open when he sped past as though a breeze blew them, and the people were already in their costumes. But the show wasn't for hours yet and those costumes would only get dirty if they wore it all day! Dick paused and took a step to remind them they had a show later but he quickly changed his mind and went on his way. Maybe they were doing one of those 'dress rehearsal' things to make sure they can move while in costume.
It wasn't long before he reached a room with more people in costumes only this time; they were standing around and looking at something in the middle of the room. Dick stopped running and stepped closer to see what they were looking at.
Those were his parents!
They were swinging on the trapeze, doing their warm-up routine before they attempt their more difficult stunts. And there on the other platform, his aunt, uncle and cousin were waiting for their turn at the swings. They started practice without him!
Dick was ticked at first that they would leave him out. But as his parents completde their warm-ups and were now joined by his aunt and uncle, Dick realized why he'd been left out of the practice: they were practicing their big finale, the one major stunt that included all the Flying Graysons except for him, since he was too young to join in.
It was annoying that he couldn't join them but rules were rules and Dick patiently watched as his family came together on that one swing, holding each other with his uncle as the base. The stunt was their most daring move since it involved all of them being supported by only one trapeze - and during showtime, it was done without a net. If any one of them had a weak or slippery grip, there was no one else to catch him or her.
But the Flying Graysons were professionals; they'd done this stunt tons of times to cheers and applause. They were the best in the business!
And as Dick watched his family through a routine practice, he didn't expect for that one lesson to hit hard: the even the best has their off days.
He was frozen. His thoughts stopped as one rope snapped. And then they were all falling...
Clark couldn't help but smile at his mother when she served him a plate with a quarter of her freshly baked apple pie. After raising him for so many years, she'd gotten used to his large appetite so she always served him double portions - most especially when it came to his favorite dessert.
And on that day of all days, he appreciated her cooking even more.
He'd just put out a fire from an apartment building - no civilians died, thank goodness - but the fire's rampage had put dozens of families out of a home. Initial investigations wrote the cause as faulty wiring, installed by the landlord looking to save a couple of bucks.
Sometimes, the greed of people just... he sighed and ate a forkful of apple pie.
"I hope that sigh wasn't because of my cooking." Martha Kent said with a teasing smile.
"Oh no, Ma. You still make the best apple pies in the world!" Clark quickly shoveled in two more bites. "It's just..." he sighed again.
"Oh, don't despair of the bad ones," Martha chided him as she set down the plate with the rest of the pie on the table. "You know not everyone is-"
Suddenly, the familiar wooden walls of the farm faded into smooth, colorful panels. A spotlight came on to glare down at him and a sudden hush of anticipation drowned out the sounds of the barn animals. At first, Clark didn't know what happened or where he suddenly found himself in until Martha Kent's comforting figure blurred into a man wearing a trench coat.
Suddenly there were five bodies on a sand-covered ground, with a team of uniforms swarming around them and taking pictures for documentation. Another pair of uniforms was off to one side, talking to a growing crowd of onlookers.
A half-strangled sob brought his attention back to the bodies; and only then did he realize they were wearing identical uniforms - familiaruniforms that were commonly worn by these particular performers.
And that was when he knew.
Somehow, the Ipphirans must have gotten Dick's memories.
Dick ran.
He wanted to get closer, to touch his family, to see that it was all a nightmare; but one of the men looking had turned his way and started walking towards him and-
And he was a cop!
Dick had been warned against the cops in the towns they stopped in. Sometimes they would call his family names and sometimes they would ask for things that didn't - and shouldn't - belong to them. Dick didn't know how true any of the stories were but he knew he didn't want to be caught by the cops.
The cops were nosy and kept asking him questions about who he saw and when and where and what Pop Haly was doing-
Wait a minute!
Dick shook his head. He'd never been questioned by the cops. Where did that thought come from? And why-
"Dick?"
He glanced up, seeing a lady in a straight skirt walking towards him. The lady's hair was done up and she looked at him like she was concerned but Dick knew better. The concern on her face was fake, just like her sugar-sweet voice was fake.
"Dick, what are you doing here? What- Where are you going?"
He was backing away from the lady. Other grownups pretended to be nice when they tried to become friends but he could see not only was this lady pretending to be nice, but she had something else in mind for him - something un-nice like taking him away from everyone in the circus and making him stay with kids who were always angry and always beating him up and nobody there cares about him-
"Dick?"
He spun on his heel and ran; away from the nosy cop, away from the evil lady, and away from the scary thoughts that weren't his own.
"Wait!" Diana started to run after the boy - she'd never had Robin look at her with so much fear and it shook her to her core that this young warrior who called her 'aunt' would run away from her - but at that point, Superman had caught up to her. "What's going on?"
"It's..." to her surprise and worry, Superman looked both anxious and contrite, "There's been a misunderstanding."
Wonder Woman turned to face him, completely blocking his way. "What happened."
The powerful man raised a hand to rub the back of his head. Diana had noticed that the Man of Steel often did that whenever it involved Batman; perhaps the Man of Steel had felt Batman's glare often enough he was unconsciously feeling the phantom pain on the back of his head.
"The...the Ipphirans," Superman stammered, "they wanted to show their thanks for our repairing their ship by...helping us relive our memories."
Diana raised an eyebrow at the idiocy that would make Superman agree to let aliens play with their memories just to accept the aliens' gratitude - but Superman neither looked sheepish nor embarrassed that meant that he'd made a stupid decision. It didn't look as if Superman had regretted his decision. But he definitely looked contrite.
" 'Memories?'" she repeated, knowing as he did, the kind of memories that lurked beneath Dick's sunny disposition. If Superman had agreed on letting strange aliens mess with her nephew's mind...
But Superman's next words brought even more confusion. "Fond memories. Our favorite moments in our lives. Hal relived his first flight, and...I was enjoying some of Ma's apple pie." He blushed at the confession of his favorite memory but Diana, as well as the other League members - had already known of his fondness for apple pie. "That was when the whole scene changed into Dick's parents."
"Great Hera," Diana gasped in horror, "the poor child must be traumatized!"
"The thing is," Superman continued, scanning the WatchTower with his special vision. "None of us knew why the alien's gift pulled up Dick's nightmare instead of his fondest moment. In fact," he turned back to her with a puzzled frown on his face, "I thought Batman wouldn't let Dick up on the Watchtower?"
Diana shook her head in agreement, "He wouldn't. Not unless there's been an emergency."
Supeman nodded. "Batman and Flash had been logged as using the chemistry lab for the past couple of hours."
"Let's go."
Batman barely relaxed the moment the latest blood analysis results came back negative for Scarecrow's new toxin. The success rushed through his chest and he almost smiled in relief as he held the syringe with the orange-colored antidote.
"Did it work?" Barry asked behind him, feet tapping a rhythm that sounded suspiciously like a track from 'River Dance'.
In answer, Batman tapped at the screen that held the results he'd been aiming for. "Negative for fear toxin."
Flash grinned in exhausted triumph. "We did it."
The victorious feeling quickly disappeared as Batman recalled the reason why they worked frantically on this formulation and he began packing up what he needed. "I need to get this to Robin."
Syringe prepped and ready for use, he had just turned to head for the Medbay when he was met at the lab door by a worried Superman and Wonder Woman.
"Batman, what-"
He ignored the two heroes and strode past them, intent on his goal. The sedative would have worn off half an hour ago, and Robin must be having nightmares now.
But Wonder Woman was suddenly in his way, keeping him from getting past. "Bruce."
Batman sighed irritably and paused though he didn't bother keeping his impatience a secret. "What is it. I need to get back to Robin."
"That's the problem," Superman stepped up beside him. "Robin ran from us a couple of minutes ago, looking like we were going to grab him and toss him in the chicken coop."
Bruce inwardly winced at the farm references but Dick's plight immediately had him on the alert. "Where?"
Wonder Woman frowned. "By the hallway leading to Medbay-"
He pushed past her, heading for the hallway she mentioned.
Superman's voice called after him as the Kryptonian probably took flight to catch up. "Batman, wait! What-"
"He's been dosed with fear toxin!" He called back. "Find him!"
Dick crawled through the vents above the Mirror House. He didn't know how he got there, but he was sure he didn't want to stay in this place any more.
The mirrors were showing him reflections of the other circus people - his family - instead of him. And they were all reaching out to him like they wanted him to come...but their faces were twisted into grins that said they wanted to hurt him too. Why?
He didn't understand why his family would want to hurt him or maybe kill him. He'd lived with them for years! And they all taught him stuff or played with him or watched him when his parents and cousin and aunt and uncle were busy doing something else.
And then there were the other mirrors. The ones that showed him Bruce's friends, broken and bleeding like they'd fought...and died.
"No no no no no..." He whispered to himself. "They're not dead. They're the Justice League! They're alright."
But only the dark space of the crawl vents answered him.
He curled his legs to his chest and wished that someone would find him and take him away from this place - this place that twisted all his family into monsters.
"Bruce..." he whispered to himself, half-hopeful that somehow, his guardian would hear him and half-afraid that the monsters would hear him too. He was sure these weren't his real aunts and uncles. They'd never be beaten so easily.
Especially Bruce - the one member of the Justice League who didn't have any metahuman powers except for his mind; the one member who could beat all of them if he needed to.
The vents suddenly awoke with an echoing voice, "...in the vents..."
Dick dropped to his hands and knees and crawled quickly to get out of the vents. He couldn't stay there if they knew where he was. They could send more of those monsters after him. But now he didn't know where to go.
He passed several grates and chutes that sounded noisier than the others. The voices kept bouncing everywhere so it was hard to distinguish which direction the voices came from - so he decided to avoid them all.
And then he ended up in an opening that was both dark and quiet. The grate blocking it was shut tight, but he'd packed a small laser in his belt-
He blinked at the tiny device in his hand then down at the suit he was wearing. What... When did he start wearing... His eyes darted to the 'R' emblem on his upper left chest. Could it be...when did he become Robin?
"Dick! Where are you?" the voice sounded like it was just behind him and he scrambled to switch on the laser to cut through the grate. He can wonder when - if - he joined the superhero club later, after he got away from the things chasing him.
He finished cutting less than a minute later, grabbing the falling grate before it could land on the floor below. The room he found himself in was dark and large, but a bit of light from somewhere showed that it was empty. There were large beams attached to the ceiling; the light didn't reach high enough so he could see how far the ceiling stretched, but he thought the beams had a wide enough ledge for him to hide in. But how would he...?
He checked his utility belt and to his relief, found that he still had a grapple gun loaded. The jump line shot out and clamped on one of the beams. A flick of the switch and he was swinging away to hide in the shadows.
He'd barely settled himself in a shadowy corner when the doors slammed open and the lights came on. The man who came in had him squeezing himself further into the corner. He knew that man - he was the rude cop from... from that night, the one who kept asking him questions and barely even listened to his answers. The cop had even ignored him when he talked about seeing someone threaten Pop and that his family always, always, checked the lines before the show.
Dick didn't want to go through another round of rude questions from the cop. But the cop looked like he knew where Dick was as he stepped closer and closer. Then his sneering face started to tilt upwards.
Dick wedged more of himself into the corner, hoping the cop hadn't seen him. He couldn't see the cop from this angle now, too, so he wouldn't know if the cop was coming after him.
Then a voice growled angrily and Dick shivered. Maybe the cop was telling the monsters where he is so they could get him.
But for several minutes, nothing happened. There were no more growls, or shouts, or any other noises except for something big humming along far away. Dick shifted to take a peek downwards.
The cop was gone and there weren't any monsters. There was only one man standing far below. He was dressed all in black - and somehow, it felt wrong for this man to be standing in the middle of the bright light; like this man belonged to the shadows.
Dick wasn't scared of shadows. The dark meant rest, when the circus closed for the night and the performers could go back to their trailers to eat and sleep. But the dark also meant safety - no circus kid would be scared of the dark where they could hide in. No one could find a circus kid hiding in the dark if he didn't want to be found.
The man below held out his arms and waited, just like he did during that night when Dick's whole world fell to pieces and people he didn't know kept grabbing him away; but this one shadow just...hugged him and told him that things will be alright, in time. He didn't say anything fake like the others; didn't say that he was 'sorry' like it was the proper thing to say. The shadow said he was sorry because he couldn't do anything to save Dick's world, sorry because it hurt, and sorry because it was the right thing to say - because the shadow knew exactly how Dick felt that night.
So Dick smiled and dropped right into the man's arms.
Bruce held the boy close, letting his cape fall over the boy's body. With his free hand, he quickly injected the antidote into Dick's neck. The boy flinched at the sting but fell asleep shortly, his head tucked into the crook of Bruce's shoulder.
"You're safe now, Dick," Bruce murmured in his son's ear. "I'm here."
"...Br-uce..." came the sleepy mumble as small arms slowly raised to curl around his neck.
"Is he alright?" Superman asked softly from the gym's entrance.
"He'll be fine." Batman answered curtly, turning on his heel to march towards his quarters.
"He's...he's never reacted this way before," Superman dogged him, "He looked like...I mean, he acted like he was a ki- I mean-"
"He acted like he was younger than his current age." Batman, annoyed at the Kryptonian's stammering, finished for him. "Scarecrow's new toxin preys on the victim's most frightening memories, twisting it into even worse nightmares. Robin was probably hallucinating about figures from his past."
He sighed and patted Dick's back when the boy whimpered softly. "Fortunately for us, Scarecrow hadn't moved his new formula past the experimental stage. We stopped him from turning it into something more...potent."
"But his hallucinations weren't any less terrifying." Clark concluded.
At this, Bruce tightened his hold on his son and nodded.
Superman sighed, giving Batman a relieved smile. "Thank goodness you were able to make the antidote then."
Batman grunted in agreement.
They'd reached his quarters by this time and Bruce quickly punched in his code at the access panel. "We'll leave in the morning." He told the Kryptonian before stepping into his quarters and letting the door slide shut behind him.
Dick had a first curled into the edge of Bruce's cape, a fact he belatedly realized when he bent to put the boy to bed and found he couldn't straighten easily. Bruce glanced at his son's furrowed brows and reached out to brush the boy's hair away from his forehead.
"Sleep, Dickie," he murmured while gently removing the hand holding his cape hostage, "I'll be here when you wake up. You're safe."
Dick's face relaxed as his breathing deepened. Bruce pulled up the blanket and tucked it under the boy's chin. When Dick unconsciously snuggled into the blankets, Bruce turned to drag the lone chair in the room to the side of the bed. Then, he grabbed a laptop before setting himself on the seat and went to work.
"Ipphirans honor-bond to friend repair." Zheiv explained once everyone had gathered, waving its companion forward. "Gift offer."
The aliens, once what happened had been explained to them, had demanded to meet 'the child-warrior' - as they called Robin - as soon as possible. Batman's threatening growls and the League's protective stances didn't faze them until Superman - completely frustrated at the Ipphirans' insistence and not a little exasperated at Batman's growling - decided to agree to let the aliens meet Robin, only with the rest of the League present.
Only now, with Zheiv's declaration of reparations needed because of the mishap with the aliens' earlier gift, did Superman realize the severity of the reason why the Ipphirans wanted to meet Robin. Superman hadn't often met an alien culture that made a lot of emphasis on one's honor, but he knew from meeting other cultures on Earth that honor for these kind of people could mean as much as their whole world.
Still, as much as Superman didn't want to know what happens to shamed Ipphirans, Clark didn't want another disaster to happen from delving into Robin's memories so recently after a bout with fear toxin-induced nightmares. So he shook his head and said gently, "There's no need for you to do that. The whole thing was an accident-"
"Child-warrior strong." Shioz interrupted, stepping in front of Batman, who was holding Robin close to his side, and holding out an iridescent hovering cube in its thin hands. "Need nurture, guidance. Knowledge-cube help."
Robin blinked at the cube being presented to him as he asked weakly, "For me?"
"Child-warrior respect. Rioph understand." Shioz said, implying that the cube had once been the deceased alien's and that it expected Robin would treat the gift with respect. Shioz moved the cube closer towards Robin, ignoring Batman's low growl. When the Ipphiran dropped its hands, the cube was now hovering just a few centimeters away from Robin's chest. "Ipphira shuum."
The cube lit up, shooting out an inverted triangular holographic screen from its top, right at eye-level with Robin. The screen showed a picture of a strange plant and when Robin raised his hand to 'poke' the screen, the plant scrolled left to show another. "Cool!" Dick grinned with delight and he waved his hand to scroll to other plants.
When his finger hovered on a single plant, a new screen opened up with lines of squiggles that Robin realized was Ipphiran writing. Then Shioz brushed a finger on the cube and the text morphed into plain English detailing the plant name, its species, uses, cellular structure, and other information. The grin on Dick's face widened. "This is so cool!"
"Ipphiran shuum," Shioz said, bowing towards Robin. "Child-warrior learn. Child-warrior grow. Strong warrior."
"Thanks, Shioz," Robin turned to face the alien. "I'll take good care of it."
The Ipphiran bowed again and backed away.
A couple of years later, Batman and Robin stumbled into the Cave after a tiring night's patrol.
"So," Dick said, unlatching his cape and letting it drop behind his heels, "How long do you think Penguin'll stay behind bars before some sleazy lawyer finds a loophole to exonerate him?"
"Best guess?" Bruce gave him a pointed look at the discarded cape and the boy sheepishly picked it up to fold it into the pile he was making with the rest of his uniform. "About two months."
Dick whistled. "Two entire months? What, he lost his best sleazy lawyer?"
"No. His sleazy lawyers will find it hard to refute video evidence." Bruce smiled and ruffled his son's hair. "Good idea, setting up that remote camera inside the duplicate copy of The Giving Tree."
Dick grinned up at him as the boy tossed one glove to the pile. "I knew he only added that book for appearances' sake." But the grin quickly turned into a pout. "Although I would've gotten a better angle if I had better controls for the camera. The dual-handed remote would've worked if it hadn't been so bulky."
"Then I have just the thing for you." Bruce walked towards one of the dressing room's supply cabinets and picked up the newest pair of gloves. "Here," he went back to Dick and handed it over. "Try this."
Dick's right eyebrow rose in curiosity as he quickly put on the glove. The eyebrow was joined by the left one as Dick registered the subtle, heavier weight on the top of the glove. "What's this?"
"Tap the extra Kevlar piece on your wrist."
When Dick did as instructed, a holographic screen shot out from a hidden projector in the glove. "Whoa!" Bruce had a moment's worth of glee at the sight of the boy's wide eyes before those same eyes turned to him. "This...you based this on the cube those Ipphirans gave me. Didn't you?"
At Bruce's nod, Dick grinned even wider. "This is so cool! You made me a glove-computer!"
"Only to be used during emergencies and while in uniform." Bruce dictated, but Dick was already busy customizing the glove-computer's settings. So Bruce kept his sigh to himself and let his son play with his alien gift.