This story was inspired by a discussion with and a story written by Kira Sema. Thanks for the inspiration, Kira!

Dick took off his mask and laid it carefully on the tray made for it. He stood there shivering as water from the Gotham River made a puddle at his feet. His boots made squishing noises every time he moved. The river water had helped cleanse the smell of the sewer, but not all of it. His nose wrinkled again in response to a particularly disgusting whiff.

He stood there miserable watching as Bruce stripped off his cape and cowl. It was his fault, he knew. Batman had told him to stay with him at the beginning of the fight, to not wander off. The two gangs they had run across had more than chains and knives as weapons, they had had guns. None of the ten teenagers cared that the area they had chosen for their throw down was edging upon a residential area, or that the bullets could hit a child or parent or grandparent.

Batman had taken on the vast majority of the members, seven of them to be exact. Robin had only to neutralize three. The first two had been relatively easy.

He had swung in onto one teen's back, knocking him forward onto his knees. Robin had used the momentum to roll close to the teen that the older boy had been fighting. Robin had swept the second guy's feet out from under him, and hit then hit him in the face with an elbow.

The first teen was staggering upright when Robin had flipped back onto his feet. His crescent kick sent the older boy's weapon skittering under a parked car. When the teen went to grab him, Robin had leaped over the guy's head, and using his back as a springboard, flipped away. The push from Robin's feet was enough to overbalance the young thug, and he went sprawling head first into the side of the parked truck.

Two down!

Batman had taken down four of the seven teens in the same amount of time. So, while he concentrated his efforts on the remaining three, Robin turned to the last guy he needed to deal with.

The young man had watched in awe as the Dark Knight and his colorful apprentice were quickly demolishing both his and the enemy gang. He wanted no part of the Bat. When Robin turned to him, he decided it would be better to retreat and be free to fight another day. He ran.

Caught up in the adrenaline rush, Robin forgot his mentor's instructions and chased the older boy. When the kid ducked into an open manhole, Robin didn't even think about it before he jumped in after his quarry. What he wasn't expecting was to run into six more members of his target's gang in the sewer. Had Batman not followed so quickly on his trail, Robin might not have escaped the situation with naught but an unsavory scent and a dip in the freezing, late-November river.

He and Batman had both ended up in the Gotham River before the fight had ended. Although it had helped the smell greatly, they had still been forced to drive back to the Batcave with the windows down and the heater on high.

Bruce was taking his boots off, stopping to pour water out of each, when he noticed Dick still standing in the same spot as he had been when they had first walked into the changing room. It was too cold to not strip off their uniforms immediately. They were both in danger of hypothermia, the boy more so than him.

"Dick, what's wrong," he asked, stopping and moving to the child.

The boy's head was bowed, and water dripped off of his hair to add to the puddle between his feet. When he didn't answer immediately, Bruce kneeled down in front of him. He tipped the boy's face up, examining him for symptoms of hypothermia. He frowned. Dick was cold but he was still shivering. He hadn't reached a dangerous level as yet, but he would if he weren't stripped of his wet clothing.

"Here, let me help you get out of this," he said.

Bruce talked to him as he took off the sopping cape and soaked tunic. He sat the boy on the bench to take off his boots for him. They were filled with water. He poured them out and set them aside. Dick's feet had the puckered skin that came of being in water for too long. His own probably looked similar.

"Master Bruce." Alfred's voice called from the main chamber of the cave. "You are back from patrol early."

"In here, Alfred," Bruce called back.

The butler came in and immediately took a step back out. "Oh dear, what is that . . . aroma?"

Bruce chuckled. "Eau de Sewage, Alfred. What? You don't care for it?"

"It does tend to make one's eyes water," he told the younger man.

Bruce snorted. "You should have gotten a whiff of us before we took a dip in the river. We probably need to air out the Batmobile overnight."

"Indeed." Alfred made a note of it. He would tend to it just as soon as he took care of the masters' uniforms.

Alfred paused as he noticed the young sir's silence. The boy always seemed incapable of stillness, and his never-ending chatter quickly brightened any room. For him to be so still and quiet now was alarming.

"Is the young master injured," he asked, worried.

Bruce answered for him. "No, I don't believe so. Just very cold. I'm going to help him shower and get dressed. He should feel more the thing once he's tucked into his flannel pajamas and drinking some hot chocolate, I think."

Alfred laid a hand on the child's cheek. "Perhaps I should take his temperature," he murmured. "We don't want to use too warm of water until his temperature has been brought back to up to normal."

"You're concerned?" Bruce frowned. Dick had yet to speak since they had climbed into the Batmobile after their dip. Maybe there was something wrong with the boy, after all.

"I don't believe it is dangerously low," Alfred remarked, producing said thermometer and tucking it under the boy's tongue, "but it is better to be safe. The water of the Gotham River must have been quite chilly this time of year."

Bruce shivered. "You are the king of understatement tonight, Alfred."

"I look forward to hearing all about it. The story sounds like it is quite riveting."

Dick's head came up at this point. His eyes were panicked and his lower lip protruded despite the thermometer. He shook his head, his eyes pleading.

"What is it, Dick?" he asked. "What's the matter?"

Alfred pulled the thermometer out of his mouth. "Ninety-five point two degrees, too low but not dangerously so. He will feel better once he gets warmed up."

"Please, don't tell Alfred," Dick begged, his voice a whisper.

"Ah, so that is what this is all about, eh, chum?" Bruce shook his head.

Their present difficulty was a direct result of Dick's disobedience. Bruce hadn't planned on saying anything about it tonight, however. They were both too cold and miserable to add a rebuke and punishment to it. But it would be addressed . . . preferably tomorrow morning. His actions could have resulted in circumstances far worse than what had actually occurred.

Alfred raised a curious eyebrow but didn't remark. He understood immediately that their current predicament had obviously been the fault of young Robin. He was certain that he would be hearing about it eventually from Master Bruce, but there was no use upsetting the child any more than he already was.

"All right, chum," Bruce reassured him. He helped him finishing stripping, pulled off the last of his own uniform, and tossed the boy a towel. "Let's go get cleaned up. I'm tired of the smell, aren't you?"

Dick nodded, scurrying ahead.

Eventually they walked out of the shower, Bruce with his towel tucked around his waist and Dick with his towel under his arms. Already small for a nine year old, his towel resembled a dress, reaching from his armpit to his knee. Bruce was followed the boy closely, rubbing the water out of his hair vigorously and making the child laugh as he tried to duck and dodge.

Alfred was just hanging up the Batsuit as the two entered the changing area. It smelled better, Dick thought, but he frowned at how wet the suit still was. There was a large puddle beneath it.

Bruce sighed. "We'll be lucky if it isn't still wet by tomorrow night. That won't be fun."

"I'll locate a bottle of baby powder for you, sir," Alfred offered.

"Baby powder?" Dick yelped, offended for his mentor's sake.

Bruce ruffled the boy's damp hair. "It helps with the chafing, chum," he explained. "Otherwise the damp material can rub you raw as you move."

Dick looked from the suit to Bruce and back again. This was way worse than he could have imagined. Either Bruce had to endure the humiliation of wearing powder for babies, or he would have to let the wet suit rub his skin off. And it would be all his fault!

He bit his lower lip in consternation as he watched Alfred pick up his own uniform.

"Not to worry, young sir," Alfred assured him. "I have no doubt that your Robin uniform will be dry in time for tomorrow's patrol. It isn't nearly as heavy as Master Batman's."

Dick's face turned red with embarrassment. This was all his fault. There had to be something he could do to fix this . . .

The manor was quiet as Dick crawled back into his bed a few hours later with a satisfied smile. Bruce would be much happier to be able to wear a comfortable Batsuit without the help of some dumb baby powder. He closed his eyes happily, dreaming the dreams of the innocent.