Disclaimer: I don't own the Teen Titans or any other copyrighted characters.

Part II

Flashback

The young boy glared sulkily at the dark figure, no more than a shadow hidden by the wing of a stone gargoyle, blanketed by a thin dusting of snow. The average bystander would have missed the human shape nestled among the shadows, but this boy was no average bystander. His sharp blue eyes, concealed behind a bland white mask, were clearly fixated upon the tall, brooding cloaked figure of the Dark Knight. To Gotham City, he was the Batman. But to the young boy, the man was his mentor and his teacher, his friend and the older brother he never had.

"This is ridiculous, Bruce," the boy spoke up at last, voice sullen. "It's Christmas Eve. We should be at home. Leave the crime fighting to the police force for one night."

The taller figure's masked face was illuminated briefly as he stepped closer to the edge of the roof, and light from the street below was thrown onto his grim face. "For one, crime rates are higher on Christmas Eve than usual, not to mention Gotham's police force is more corrupt than usual. Besides, heroes do not celebrate or simply take days off. I thought I taught you that, Dick."

Richard "Dick" Grayson cringed inwardly at the use of the nickname. His parents never called him that… usually Richard, or 'little Robin', as his mother nicknamed him, but never 'Dick'. His parents… Dick pushed the thought to the back of his head, but not before a single tear had trickled down his cheek. He brushed it away quickly, hoping Batman hadn't seen it. They're dead, he told himself firmly, though every time it hurt to admit it, like a permanent scar on his soul, Just stop thinking about them. "But, Bruce, we haven't come across a single criminal or crime the whole evening. Can we go?" he persisted, like a little child pleading for ice cream, but knowing the answer before the question fully left his lips.

Only the silence replied. No, no, no, the wind whistled mockingly.

Dick sighed. "OK, OK. Fine," he grumbled. I should've known better. I'm talking to a plank of wood. "I just thought… since it was Christmas…" He stared longingly at the streets below—families, wrapped in layers of warm clothing, talked and laughed together. Dick subconsciously hummed along to fragments of Christmas carols that drifted upwards from the friendly-looking neighbourhood below, lit by warm yellow lamplight and strings of blinking fairy lights.

"If we catch one villain tonight," Bruce said suddenly, "then one more person would be able to wake up happily tomorrow and experience the joys of Christmas. It may not seem like much to you, but it would mean the world to that one person." There was a hidden emotion in his voice that Dick couldn't quite place. "It's what heroes do—they sacrifice their own happiness so that others can live in happiness."

"Yeah, I know. But… you know, shouldn't we get some kind of reward or something?" Dick asked quietly, half to himself.

"You'll learn to appreciate things when you're older."

"You mean old, like you."

"With age comes experience, Dick."

"Experience in what?" Dick retorted bitterly.

"You'll see when the time comes," Batman answered enigmatically, evading Dick's question. "But trust me; you'll learn to like it… eventually."

"That's what you said about my Robin costume." He pulled a face. "I swear, Bruce, I've been walking around looking like a Christmas tree for three years. Honestly… red, green and yellow? Why can't I get black?"

"Green suits you."

Dick frowned. "Whatever. I don't like spandex. It's so stupid."

For a split-second, a hint of what might have been a smile flashed across Batman's face. "Hmm… Christmas tree, eh?" Bruce raised an eyebrow. "Well it is Christmas, Dick. You fit in perfectly."

"Bruce." The boy scowled. It just… didn't seem fair that he had to be the one who gave up his happiness just to see happiness on the faces of others. But maybe Bruce was right. Maybe, one day, he'd learn to like it. Just not now.

"Life isn't fair, Dick," Batman said, reading his mind. "Appreciate what you have." It sounded more like, Appreciate what you have left. With that, he swung down from the rooftop and landed lithely in a dark alleyway. The boy quickly followed suit, touching down noiselessly, dark cloak flapping around his shoulders. He followed his mentor down a dark side alley, and they stopped in front of an apartment block, the windows dark and empty.

"See?" Dick grumbled, "Everyone's gone out—" a hand clamped down on his mouth, and he felt a gun barrel pressed against the side of his head, the cold steel pressing mercilessly against his temple. His arms were twisted painfully behind his back, and he suppressed a cry. Out of the corner of his eye, Dick noticed Batman, slowly inching behind him. The young boy tried to breathe in, out, calmly, and remembered all the training sessions he'd ever had, every lecture he'd ever sat through. He knew Batman's policy with guns. Rule Number One, Batman had told him flat-out at the very beginning, NO GUNS

Unfortunately, most criminals didn't appear to share that opinion. Dick closed his eyes; his reflexes were sharper than ever, senses honed to perfection. After two years of training… this was what it all led up to. His first real test as Batman's sidekick. For the moment, he wasn't eleven-year-old Richard Grayson anymore, he was… Robin, saviour of Gotham City. Dick weighed his chances—not something easily done with a gun held threateningly against one's head. He could almost imagine what would happen if the trigger was pulled. Not a pleasant thought.

But he was trained to think quickly and sharply under pressure… although no amount of training could have prepared him for this, his first real, life-threatening situation.

If he kicked back now, knocking his captor in the stomach or the groin… would the man drop the gun, or would he shoot? And what if the guy avoided the blow? What was the worst-case scenario? Dick quickly summarised the possibilities: I kick and shove the guy… I miss or he sidesteps… I end up falling backwards… he shoots… the bullet goes inside my head, I die straightaway. Painlessly quick, maybe. Or maybe very, very painful if I'm unlucky.

Either way… not good.

There was a sharp 'clang' of metal on metal as a bat-a-rang hit the gun and whisked it out of the criminal's hand. Seizing his chance, Dick wrenched himself free of the crook's iron grasp and with a kick from his boot sent the gun skidding across the icy concrete, far out of the man's grasp. Wincing slightly, Dick kicked the man in the stomach, extracting a loud cry as the wind was knocked from the villain. The man instantly fell backwards onto Batman, who was waiting expectantly and expertly wrestled the offender's wrists into a pair of handcuffs.

Dick flexed his arms experimentally, just to make sure that no bones had been broken, no tendons or ligaments torn, in the twisting process. He stared at the incredible Batman in action, feeling helpless and guilty. Helpless because he was still a novice beside Batman, whom he admired greatly. No matter how good he grew to be, he would never be as good as Batman. Batman was Batman… and who was Dick? Just some kid in a spandex suit pretending to be a superhero. Pretending and failing miserably. He also felt guilty because he had not been vigilant enough to have spotted the crook. Dick sensed that his mentor was more than just a little displeased and jogged to keep up with Batman as they strode away, leaving the crook tied up. "I'm sorry…" Dick began apologetically, knowing a lengthy lecture was sure to follow; a lecture on the dangers of guns, on how his life had hung in the balance due to his carelessness and lack of attention, blah blah blah……

Much to Dick's surprise, his mentor waved off the apology. "No, I should be sorry." He turned around and laid a hand on the boy's shoulder, saying, not unkindly, "You were right. You're only a kid, and before you know it, you'll be all grown-up. Go home, Dick. Watch a movie with Alfred or something. Wait for Santa Claus. Enjoy yourself for one night."

"Wow, the infamous Batman's going soft." Dick could not resist smirking.

"Wipe that smile off your face. You're just growing to be more like me." At those surprising words, Dick stared up into Batman's face, shockingly haggard. For the first time, he saw the thirty-something-year-old man behind the mask, weighed down with the pressure of saving the city on a daily basis, and the fatigue of leading a double-life. The man had a lot on his shoulders, and the weariness had begun to show in the wrinkled brow and the crow's feet that he hid behind the mask. Like everyone else, Bruce was slowly wearing away at the merciless hands of Time. Dick suddenly felt a pang of sympathy; Batman had obviously endured a lot more than he let everyone—including his apprentice—know. Perhaps all the strictness and the lack of emotion were simply side-effects. Dick didn't blame him. In fact, for the first time, he actually sympathised with the man he respected the most.

"So, is that a compliment?" Dick ventured.

Batman's eyes narrowed, and all emotion disappeared from his face. The man that stared back at Dick was no longer Bruce Wayne, but Batman—the legend, the hero. "Are you going or not, Dick? There's a city full of criminals waiting for me out there, and you'll miss Santa Claus if you keep loitering around here."

Dick sighed, exasperated. "Bruce… you know I don't believe in Santa."

Another trace of a smile appeared, but only briefly. "I'll take that as, 'Yeah, I'm coming with you. Now will you please get going? It's embarrassing enough that I have to take orders from a guy who thinks a Speedo is a fashion statement; I don't want people to actually see me within five miles of that weirdo.'"

"What—?! Hey, I never said that!" Dick cried indignantly, watching Batman scaling up the side of a building using just a grappling hook.

"That doesn't mean you're not thinking it." Batman was already waiting at the top. As his protégé scrambled rather ungracefully up onto the slippery, icy concrete, the Dark Knight had already disappeared onto the next rooftop, a shadow lost in the swirling fog of snow that fell all around them.

End Flashback

Richard sighed in frustration as, once again, the security cameras showed no sign whatsoever of any criminal activity on the streets. Maybe the criminals were taking a night off. He blinked; cerulean blue eyes were strained from staring continually at the computer screen, and there were dark rings beneath his eyes—evidence that he had been deprived of sleep in the last few weeks. A small part of his fatigued brain reminded him that he should be taking a day off too. When was the last time you had a holiday? it asked in an annoying way, knowing it had a valid point to make. It's Christmas, another voice adjoined, coaxing persuasively, Weren't you the one who was always complaining about superheroes not having a day off? Go on, go play with the kids, spend some time with Kori… you know you miss her…

No, he shook his head to clear his mind, draining another espresso. The bitter beverage brought Richard back to his senses and temporarily warded off another wave of exhaustion that washed over his weary body. His limbs ached from sitting in the same position for hours; he had a cramp in his neck, and his brain simply refused to concentrate. Richard stared down at the heavily scribbled-upon scrap of paper and tried to make sense of the congested, scrawled handwriting. He'd been working for six hours non-stop already... if only he could just go to sleep, wake up and start afresh…

An abrupt knock on the door once again shook all thoughts of sleep from Richard's mind. Irritated, he wondered who would be disturbing his work at this hour. Kori and the children should all be asleep by now… and there was no one else in the house. But he had told them, time and time again, not to disturb his work. Sighing with anger and frustration, Richard ventilated his anger by viciously throwing a pencil at the desk, and went to open the door.

A/N- OK, I'd like to thank everyone who reviewed the first chapter. I really hope you enjoyed this one, and don't forget to review, please! I know there wasn't too much happening here, and maybe the Batman flashback was kinda boring for you, but... well, I thought it was important to cover Richard's side of the story too.

Constructive criticism is welcome as always, but no flaming!