Hello all! This story takes place during Grant Morrison's Batman and Robin run.

Disclaimer: I do not own DC Comics or the associated characters.

Reviews are much appreciated. Enjoy the beginning of this journey.

Dick Grayson tried to stifle back the laugh. He really did try. The laughter that escaped from his covered mouth only seemed to cause Damian's scowl to deepen. This was the scowl that could send most villains and even some heroes wanting to scamper home crying to their mothers. Dick, however, has grown immune to it. Plus, it looked rather ridiculous when it was supposed to be a pout.

"Tt. I ought to slit your throat."

Dick's laughter grew and the acrobat wiped the tears that started to form. He hiccupped a bit as the laugher died out and he rubbed his nose to act nonchalantly. The current Boy Wonder was standing in front of him dressed in his uniform, his arms crossed with his usual scowl upon his features. Damian was trying to convince him with his wavering form, glassy eyes, and sweating forehead that he was indeed able to patrol tonight.

"Little D, I think you have a fever."

"I have no such thing. My immunity to such diseases is at best. I have never had a fever."

Dick raised a brow as Damian rapidly blinked his eyes as if he was trying to make his vision clear. He had to smile at that. He enjoyed moments where he got to see the kid in Damian. He remembered pulling this same stunt on Bruce way back when. He wrapped an arm around the smaller kid and placed a hand on Damian's forehead. It was warm to the touch.

"Don't touch me," Damian tried to say threateningly. It only came out as a weak protest.

"You have been complaining about headaches all weak. I think you need a night's rest, little bird."

"No. I have to go out and patrol. Who's going to watch over your sorry hide?"

Dick shook his head in amusement as he picked Damian up, wrapping his strong arms around him. "Thanks for the vote of confidence, kid. But, I can take care of myself believe it or not."

"I find that hard to believe." Damian nuzzled his head in Dick's shoulder and Dick knew it was the fever causing Damian to share his rare displays of affection.

Dick carried his little brother up the elevator and up the stairs, taking him to his room. He forced Damian out of his uniform and into his pajamas, the Boy Wonder moved ever so slowly as if he was a zombie. Dick felt the kid's forehead once again as he tucked Damian into his sheets. There was a knock on the door.

Dick turned to see Alfred standing in the doorway, looking worried.

"He has a fever. He's on bed rest for the night. You'll be on watch and guard, won't you?"

"Yes, I'll stand outside the door with my rifle across my lap. I'll make sure no one ventures out," Alfred responded curtly.

Dick gave the butler a playful glare. He turned back to see that Damian had already fallen into a deep sleep. He tucked the covers in around the ex-assassin before he met with Alfred in the doorway. They both stood, watching the steady rising and falling of Damian's chest.

"If there are no crazies rampaging out of the Arkham Asylum tonight, I'll be home early," Dick said as he ran his fingers through his black hair. "He has been acting strange all week. Not to mention the tiredness and the headaches."

"I assume it was just the flu taking its grasp on him. You know how most children refused to admit that they are sick." Alfred pursed his lips. "Or rather how most people in this household act as if they cannot catch a common sickness."

Dick smiled. "You sure knew how to bribe us into bed. Hell, you nearly had to tie Bruce down in bed when he was spiking a fever and couldn't walk straight."

With a straight face, Alfred went on to declare, "Nearly? I did."

Dick chuckled, hesitating to move from the doorway. His eyes remained locked on his little brother. This has to be the first time he remembered him getting ill. He felt a hand on his shoulder and he looked over to Alfred.

"Master Damian is in good hands, Dick. From what I recall, there's a serial killer out there you must investigate. Let Gotham borrow you for a few hours. I'll keep an eye on him."

"Thanks, Alfie. Call me if he gets worse."

Dick pulled the cowl, his own scowl plastered across his face as he made his way to head out into the darkness of the night.

Batman landed on the edge of the roof, causing Jim Gordon to nearly spill his coffee over his hands. Batman hid a smile as Gordon glared at him from under his eyebrows as he switched the Bat-Symbol light off.

"I'm surprised you have yet to give me a heart attack," Gordon said dryly as he took a sip.

Batman didn't say anything as he wrapped his cape around him. He waited for Gordon to speak. The Commissioner pulled out a file from within his jacket and handed it over to the Dark Knight.

"Another body. Early this morning. Throat slit from ear to ear. No doubt it's the same man."

Batman glanced down, flipping through the file. In a low, raspy voice, he said, "That's the eighth one this week; all of them are highest members of Gotham. Besides that, there are no connections between the victims."

"This one, however, had some ties to the department. He was serving undercover to help us collar his CEO for embezzlement." Gordon took another sip as he watched Batman study the file in front of him as if it held all the answers he needed.

"Elijah Parker," Batman read. "I know that name. Folks call him a non-Gothaman because he was not originally from here."

"Perhaps the other victims are not as well. The initial report does not state their birthplace, I'll look into it." Gordon cocked a smile. "Though, I'm sure you'll know long before I tell you."

"Long before, Mr. Gordon."

Gordon always felt at ease when this Batman smiled. His smile reminded Gordon of another, of a boy who grew up within the shadows. The Dark Knight handed the file back to him. Gordon took it and placed it back within his coat. He opened his mouth to speak only to pause as he realized that he was alone.

Elijah Parker.

Dick didn't want to say it, but he knew that name or rather he's heard it before. Bruce Wayne was often known for throwing parties and he always had the same social group of the highest class members of Gotham attend. Dick remembered meeting a Mr. Parker during one of those nights just before he left for college. He never really mingled with the adults at the party, and he was still very bad at keeping up the appearances of a rich boy like Bruce did. He wondered if all the other victims had the same connection.

It was a connection Dick knew that he should have made sooner. Dick wanted to blame it on all the distractions at home, such as finding out that the corpse they had was not really Bruce Wayne's body. Plus a sick Damian kept him from investigating this further. He knew that being able to disassociate himself from others made Bruce a better detective, a better Batman.

Dick just couldn't do that. He wasn't Bruce. He didn't want to be that part of Bruce.

He shot out a grappling hook as he continued to fly his way across Gotham. He had a meeting on the other side of the city. He was somewhat glad that Damian stayed behind; this person contacted him through the secure lines at the penthouse Bat-Cave. There were only a few people that Dick knew that could override the Bat-Cave's system. In this crypt email that he received earlier that day, the person demanded a meeting at the docks; a meeting alone with the Dark Knight.

Dick didn't know how he would have had to convince Damian to stay behind. He was planning on having Damian stake the place out and keep him within close contacts until the Boy Wonder got sick. At the thought of his little brother, Dick vowed that he would return home after the meeting.

As he approached his destination, he released himself from the grapple hook and plummet down toward the ground below. He pounced off a dumpster and used garbage bags on the ground to cushion his landing. He disappeared quickly into the shadows, turning on his night vision goggles. It was 3:15. He arrived right on the dot. He walked close among the buildings, keeping his ears opened for any sound. He saw a quick flash in the corner up above. Dick quickly did a somersault as someone landed behind him, their intent obvious to tackle him. Dick moved swiftly and had an escrima stick out before he could even blink. He slammed the figure against the brick wall, snarling.

"Really, Red Robin? You thought you could ambush me?"

"Just making sure your senses haven't gotten dull, Batman."

Dick winced a bit at Tim's harsh yet almost playful tone. Dick knew the teen was still bitter about being replaced by, what Tim called, the Demon Spawn. Their relationship was not as strained as it was the months before. Though, it seemed to get worse whenever they were in costume.

He released Red Robin from the wall, placing his stick away. Dick eyed him closely. "What's the emergency?"

Red Robin held up a disk. "Proof."

Dick raised a brow, though Red Robin couldn't see it. "Care to elaborate?"
"That the son of the devil is not as innocent as you make him out to be."

Dick rolled his eyes, turning off his night-vision goggle. "Red Robin, enough. I know you think this is your way of looking out for me, but I trust Robin."

"Listen, Batman, you have to watch this," Red Robin's voice was pleading. Tim never begged, not unless it was a last resort.

Dick rubbed the back of his neck as he took the disk from him. "What is it?"

"The truth." Red Robin held up a portable Batman-style DVD player. "Just watch it."

Hesitant, Dick took the player and placed the disk within. He watched as the screen fizzled to life. There was black and white static before a black and white screen appeared. A man was locking up his office door. Judging from the view, Dick could tell that the camera recording this was not within the building, but from the outside as if someone was zooming in through the window. He recognized the man as one of the serial killer's victims. The man had turned around and placed his key within his suit pocket. Suddenly, a hooded figure pounced onto the man's shoulder. With precise accuracy, the knife sliced the man across the throat in one fluid motion.

Dick's breath caught in his throat as he recognized the flip the figure did from off the man's shoulders before it slumped down. His eyes widened from under the cowl. He knew that hoodie. He knew that slight smirk. He knew that stance. He knew that old knife. As the figure turned slightly around, Dick could see his face

"It's…"

Red Robin finished for him. "It's Damian. He's the serial killer."

DUN DUN DUN!