I wish I had listened to the people of Gotham. The concept of a child crime-fighter is ridiculous. I never should have allowed him to become my sidekick. I should have known better. I deal with dangerous criminals. And to put a child in harm's way… I'm the true criminal.

All of this is my fault. If I had just stuck to being a solitary hero, none of this would have happened.

As he lies on the hospital bed, he looks even younger. So small and delicate. Like the slightest touch might cause him to shatter like glass.

Ironically, the morning of that fateful day, when I looked out my window, I saw the body of a dead robin. A cold, stiff bird, its legs in the air, wings sprawled out to either side. A songbird that would never sing again.

Robin looks like that now. He looks like that dead bird, his legs in casts suspended above his body. Silent and still. Lifeless.

"He's in a coma, Batman," the doctors had said. "He may wake up, or he may not."

They told me that Robin was lucky to survive, at least partially. The car that ran over him broke both his legs and hit his head.

"There's damage to his brain, specifically his occipital lobe," one doctor said. "The part of his brain that controls sight."

"If he wakes up, he'll be blind," another one said bluntly.

The first doctor shushed him. I looked from the first doctor to the second. "So you're saying that Robin will never be able to see again?"

"Not necessarily," said the first doctor. "There's surgery that can be done. We know of a surgeon who specialized in complex brain injuries. He's retired now, but I'm sure he'd be willing to try. It's risky surgery, Batman. There's a chance he won't make it, assuming he comes out of the coma in the first place."

"And," continued the second, "to perform the surgery, the doctor would have to remove Robin's mask."

A gasp escaped my lips. "But his secret identity…!"

"It's either unmask or be blind, Batman. Ultimately, it will be Robin's decision."

I remember letting my gaze drift to look at my sidekick. Robin would never want to give up his secret identity, because once his secret was out, mine would quickly follow. People would put two and two together and figure out just who was behind the cape and the cowl.

A part of me wishes that Robin won't wake up, just so I don't have to tell him. But I can't be without Robin. Without him, I'm just a dark, sad, lonely knight. I can't let him go. He's become so much more than a sidekick. So much more than a friend. He's become like a son to me. What kind of a parent would I be to give up on him?

I know he's not really my son; he's my ward. But I've become the father figure in his life, and it is my duty to protect him. Good job I did protecting him. I nearly got him killed.

I haven't given up on Robin, and I won't give up on him. He's a fighter, and he'll push through. This hope keeps me by his bedside day in and day out.

Alfred comes every couple days to check up on me. He worries about me; I can see it in his eyes, the way they watch me sadly as I adjust Robin's blankets or smooth his hair. The first few times, he tried to convince me to return to Wayne Manor to get a good night's rest and a decent meal. But he stopped asking after I continuously turned him down. I can't leave Robin. I need to be here when he wakes up to comfort him. I can't let him wake up in a world of darkness with no one around to help him find light. I know how scary being alone in the dark can be.

Now Alfred just stands next to my chair, silent mostly. He'll occasionally mention what's going on outside the hospital walls. Apparently Superman has been taking care of my criminals while I spend my time with Robin. He's a good guy, that Superman. I'll have to thank him for that once Robin wakes up. If he wakes up…

Why do I let myself even think about Robin dying? I know he won't. He can't die like this. He has so much of his life ahead of him. It wouldn't be fair for it to be cut so short. Which is why I will never let them cut off his life support. People who have been in comas for long periods of time can and do wake up. And Robin will, too.

I wish I knew who did this to him. We were pursuing an unknown villain, masked and hunkering down in his car as he escaped. We sped down back alleys and side streets, following the erratic rogue. We managed to overcome him, and Robin leaped out of the Batmobile, ready to apprehend him. After all, we had him cornered; there was no way he could escape.

But he did. He drove straight for Robin. I started for him, but time slowed. Each action was a snapshot photo that I can see clearly even now. Every detail stands out in glaring, high-definition colors. And the sounds… Blaring and grating on my soul, filling my ears when all I want to hear is silence.

The screech of rubber tires on asphalt as the car barreled toward Robin. The small "o" of surprise on Robin's face, eyes widened as if he couldn't quite understand what was happening. The awful thud of tires hitting flesh, then flesh hitting the blacktop of the road. The blood-curdling scream that came out of my mouth as I tried to intervene, but it was like I was running through water – not quite fast enough. The bright red of Robin's blood as it poured from his wounds, pooling on the road. The squeal of the tires changing direction as the villain zoomed away, his laughter loud and piercing, reveling in his victory, mocking me.

These are the things that make up my nightmares. These images replay themselves night after night. Most nights I never go back to sleep afterwards. Instead, I grip Robin's hand, squeezing gently, hoping he knows I'm here for him. Or I'll talk to him, telling him stories or just babbling on about nothing in particular. I feel like there's some part of him that can hear me, some half-conscious area of his brain that understands me but can't respond.

Today is Day 36. Robin has been asleep for over a month with no sign of waking any time soon.

I sigh and look out the window at the parking lot below, watching as people get into their cars and leave, or get out of their cars and head toward the hospital entrance. It depresses me, watching these people as they come and go. Something I can't do. I can't go. I can't let go.

My eyes fall on a boy about Robin's age, hobbling on crutches out of the hospital with his father. For a moment, I picture myself down there next to the boy, only the boy is Robin. If only it were that easy, if he could just get up and leave with me…

I tear my gaze away and return to my chair, grabbing Robin's hand and holding it in mine. A few silent tears escape my eyes, allowing the whole deluge to break through. I haven't let myself cry since Robin was hit; I felt that if I cried, it'd be like admitting he was gone and would never come back. I guess I finally accept that Robin is gone from me forever.

Through my blurred line of vision, I think I see Robin's eyelids flickering, as if waking up from a pleasant dream not quite over yet.

"Batman…"

I gasp. Now I'm going crazy; I'm hearing his voice in my head.

Robin's limp hand squeezes mine. "Batman, where am I? What's happening?"

I wipe away my tears and clutch his hand tighter. "Robin?" I whisper.

"Batman. What's going on? Why is it so dark?"

"Oh, Robin," I breathe, unable to believe he's actually awake. I just want to hug him and never let go for fear that someone will try to take him away from me again.

But I need to compose myself, for his sake. Robin needs someone strong to support him. I take a deep breath. "Robin," I start. "You're in the hospital. You've been in a coma for over a month."

"I… how…?"

"You were in an accident. We were trying to stop a villain, and whoever it was hit you and drove off."

"I… think I remember…" Robin rubs at his eyes. "Batman, could you please turn on the lights? It's so dark in here. Is it nighttime?"

"No," I reply shakily. "It's mid-morning."

"Oh," says Robin. "It must be awfully cloudy out, then."

I sneak a glance at the handful of rays of sunlight flooding through the window. Still, I find myself standing and moving robotically toward the light switch. Wincing, I flick it on, and light fills the room. Light that Robin can't see.

"Robin, I have something I need to tell you…"

Robin waves a hand dismissively. "Whatever it is, it can wait until you turn on the lights. I want to be able to see you while you're talking to me."

"Robin…"

"Turn on the lights, Batman."

"Robin, they are on."

Silence. Then Robin laughs. "Oh, come on, Batman, was that a joke? What happened to your sense of humor?"

"No, Robin," I say, making my way back to his bedside. "I'm serious. The lights are on."

"But… I…"

"Robin." I take his hand again and place my other on top, closing his hand in both of mine. "There's been damage to your brain, and, well… Robin, you're blind."

Robin's free hand flies to his mouth as a small gasp escapes his lips. "No…" he whispers.

I nod, then remember he can't see me. "Yes. I'm so sorry. I can't imagine waking up to permanent darkness. But there's some hope," I say, forcing some cheer into my voice. "There's surgery that can be performed. It's risky, but there's a chance it can correct your vision."

"Oh, yes, please. I'll do it; screw the risks!"

"But Robin…"

"Yes, Batman?"

"There's a problem. In order to perform the surgery, the doctor is going to have to remove your mask."

Robin's face falls. "Remove my mask? Then my secret identity…"

"There's always doctor-patient confidentiality, but I wouldn't rely too heavily on that. With something as juicy as your secret identity, even the most disciplined doctor may accidentally let it slip. I know it's your decision, Robin, and I just want you to know that I will support you no matter what you choose."

"Batman, you know I can't risk your identity by having mine revealed."

"I know, Robin. But I wish you would think of yourself, just this once, instead of me. I don't care if all of Gotham knows our secrets if it means having you see again. Honestly, it'd be a relief not to sneak around all the time."

Robin sighs. "Very well, Batman. If you're willing, then I'm willing."

I study the doctor who stands before me, taking in all his features. The gray hair parted just so and impeccably in place, the silver spectacles perched on his nose, the surgical mask strapped across his mouth. Claims he may have a cold, or it may just be allergies, but why risk it and all that. It doesn't make me feel any better; the fact that a sick doctor is going to cut open Robin's head doesn't exactly put me into a trusting, safe sense of security.

"Look, Dr…."

"Dr. Butler," answers the man. "Dr. A. F. Butler."

"Dr. Butler," I continue. "Robin is being very brave to allow you to operate in hopes of repairing his vision. However, you are going to be one of select few who know his secret identity. Surely you know how important this is to Robin, because a secret identity is a secret identity. Once it's out, there's nothing that can be done. So the very fact that he is willing to let you in on his secret is an honor and a privilege. Therefore, we would appreciate if it the secret be kept. I am even willing to pay you if need be. That is how important this is to the both of us."

"Oh, that won't be necessary, sir," says the doctor, reaching for his mask.

He removes it and says, "I have another confession to make, sir."

My eyes widen. "Alfred?"

"Yes, sir. There's a lot you don't know about me. Before I met your parents, I was a brain surgeon, specializing in complex procedures such as this one. I'm retired now, of course, but I make a few exceptions."

"But why keep it a secret?" I ask.

Alfred shrugs. "No reason. I wasn't really keeping it a secret; just keeping things to myself, like I do."

"So you can help Robin see again?"

"I can try, Mister Wayne. But this procedure is dangerous. The brain is a complex and intricate machine. Tinkering with it may end up causing more harm than good."

I let my gaze drift to fall on Robin, who has fallen asleep. A small smile creeps onto his face as he dreams in pleasant images. It's the only way he can see for now. But if Alfred can help him…

"I know it's risky, Alfred, and so does Robin. But he's willing to take a chance."

"Batman, I'm scared."

I grip Robin's hand tighter. "I am, too. But Alfred will take good care of you, and the next time you wake up, you'll be able to see me."

"You think?"

"I know." But I don't know. Anything can happen, and this could very well be the last conversation Robin and I ever have.

"Is Master Dick ready?" Alfred asks me.

"Robin, are you ready? Alfred's going to administer the anesthesia now."

Robin nods. "I'm ready. But Batman, promise you won't leave until I'm asleep."

"You know I wouldn't even think of leaving you."

As Robin's unseeing eyes begin to droop and his grip on my hand becomes looser, Robin gives me a smile.

"Whatever happens, know that I love you, Batman," he whispers.

Tears threaten to fall as I whisper back, "I love you, too, Robin."

Those words echo in my mind long after Alfred takes him away.

"He's not going to wake up, is he?" I say, more as a statement of fact rather than a question.

"Now sir…" Alfred begins.

"Tell me the truth, Alfred. Should he or shouldn't he be awake by now?"

Alfred sighs. "It depends. No procedure is exactly the same."

"Alfred! Answer the question!"

"He should be awake, if everything went according to plan. But surgeries are unpredictable; anything can happen. Perhaps he is just taking a little longer to bounce back. He is young, so his brain is still growing and…"

"Enough, Alfred," I snap. I stand, stretching my legs, before heading toward the door. "I'm going home. There's nothing more for me to do, and I'd rather not have to watch him…" I can't quite bring myself to say the word. "I've come close to losing him before, but I don't think one person can cheat death so many times."

"But sir, you can't leave," Alfred protests. "If you leave…"

"I make life easier on both of us. I need to be alone so I can begin to cope."

I almost make it out of the room, but something stops me. I can't just leave. Not without saying goodbye at least.

I return to Robin's bedside and set my hand gently on his arm. "Robin, I really don't know where to begin. Before I had you, I was just a dark, sad, lonely, miserable guy with no friends or family. You became both to me and brought me light and joy and happiness. Together we were unstoppable. I guess what I'm trying to say is, thank you. Thank you for being my morning bird. Thank you for being my friend and my sidekick. Because of you, I'm a new person, and I can never repay you for that. I really hope that somehow you can hear me, Robin, because I've always wanted to say these things to you, but never quite knew how." My voice catches as I choke back a sob. "Thank you so much, Robin. For everything you've done." I bend and kiss his forehead. "Goodbye," I whisper.

I can barely see the door now. Everything is so cloudy. I stumble to where I think it is and reach for the handle.

"Batman, where are you going?"

I whirl around. "Robin?!"

He rubs his eyes. "It's so bright in here. I'm nearly blinded by it. So bright, so bright, so bright."

"His eyes are adjusting," Alfred explains excitedly. "That means that, though they're sensitive now, they'll soon be back to normal."

I don't know whether to laugh or cry, so I end up doing a little bit of both. I fall onto the bed, burying my face in my hands.

"Batman, don't cry. I'm alright." Robin places a hand on my back and rubs in a circular motion.

"I had given up on you," I say. "I thought you were gone, so I gave up. I'm a horrible person."

"No, you're not. I can't imagine what you might have felt, but it's not your fault. I could have given up, too. It would have been easier. But I fought the urge to die. For you, Batman. I didn't want to leave you alone."

"Thank you," I manage to say.

"No," Robin says. "Thank you. You gave me something to live for. Even if I didn't have my sight back, I would make the best of it. Because we're an inseparable pair. You can't have one without the other. And nothing will ever separate us. Not even death."

I nod. "You're right. When we die, we'll die together."

"Exactly. Now, enough of all this depressing conversation. I wanna play Nintendo."

I smile. He's back. Robin's back. And he will never leave me again.