I did not create, nor do I own, Commissioner Gordon, Alfred Pennyworth, Bruce Wayne, Dick Greyson, or the latter two's vigilante identities Batman and Robin.

This story is for entertainment purposes only, so please read and be entertained.

Batman pulled a cloth from his belt while instructing Robin to press it against his cut. Then he stalked to the lady standing by her unconscious kidnapper. He reassured her of Robin's condition, handcuffed the bad guy, and radioed Gordon. "Commissioner."

"Batman! Where are you, what's the situation?!"

"We're on 17th Street 3 blocks south of the bank. The suspect is down and restrained. The hostage is bruised, but safe. My partner's received a head wound, though. It's only a bullet graze, but I need to get him back to our base of operations. Pick up the suspect as soon as possible."

"Partner?!" The Commissioner froze and stared straight ahead. Then he lifted the radio to his lips again. "Batman, is the rumor a child's been assisting you true?"

There was an uncharacteristic pause from the vigilante, followed by his usual monosyllabic reply. "Yes."

"Tomorrow night, I want to meet on the roof for a talk."

"I'll be there."

Robin thought he'd swallowed a pear-pit. Acid roiled in his stomach. He wanted to throw up. He felt like kids do when they misbehave in front of their parents and others. Some moms and dads don't punish their children in front of other people. The child can feel their punishment coming, though. They hear it in their parents' careful, clipped words and see it in their mother and father's refusal to look their direction. The child may wish to receive their punishment in front of witnesses, but know their parents will wait until they have them alone. This was Robin's situation.

The police arrived and took over matters. Gordon glared at Batman's back while he walked Robin to the Bat-Car. The vigilante drove them to the Cave in silence.

Robin not only didn't speak on the journey, he didn't move. When they parked, he melted even further down into the passenger seat. Batman's command got him moving again. "Get out."

Robin jumped. Then he undid his harness-belt, opened the door, and sprang out before shutting the passenger door gingerly behind him. Batman's copied him with slower, calmer movements, but slammed his. "Follow me."

Robin did keeping four steps between them until Batman reached the examination table. His mentor turned back to face him. "Sit here."

Robin normally leapt onto things. This time he crawled. Batman didn't watch, but went to a cabinet where he got gauze, bandages, and disinfectant. He poured some of the latter into the gauze. Then he returned and reached out to take away the cloth he'd given Robin earlier. He pulled it away. Drops of blood fell from the saturated cloth to stain the cot. Robin gulped. Batman removed Robin's mask and pressed the gauze and disinfectant to his cut. Robin hissed. He pressed his teeth together like shut scissor jaws, so as not to make any other sound. Again, only Batman spoke. "Hold this."

Alfred came down to check on them. His eyes widened at the sight of Robin. Then they widened again as Batman sent him back upstairs so he could have a "talk" with his ward alone.

When the elevator door had sealed Alfred in, Batman spun around and stared at Dick. The boy flinched. His mentor growled like a bulldozer shoving a mountain of gravel. "Do you realize what could have happened to you?"

Dick's whisper barely bounced off the cave walls. "Yeah . . . I could've died."

"EXACLTY!"

Robin flinched again. He bent over, rested his elbows on his knees, and set his chin in his hands. "I'm sorry . . ."

He stared at nothing with the expression of a sad puppy while Batman paced up and down in front of him. While Alfred was there, Batman had wrapped his ward's head in bandages making him look like he wore a white headband. The visual reminder of how Robin put his life on the line against orders gave Batman the desire to shake him every time he glanced his direction. Since he'd promised himself he'd never get physical with Robin in anger, he put his rage into words instead. "I told you again and again, 'Just follow them and see where they go, don't engage 'especially' when you see they have a gun!'"

"I know . . . but . . . he had that lady with him!"

"And a gun! When I saw him leave with her, do you know what I said to myself? 'I don't have to worry, because my partner's outside. He'll follow and see where the suspect takes her. Then I can find all three of them, and we can handle the situation together.' You didn't even try to see if I was following you!"

"But he was hurting her!"

Robin looked up with clasped hands and big eyes. Batman didn't give him a glance. "He could have hurt both of you a lot worse! You got lucky!"

Robin slumped. He set his chin in his hands again and lowered his gaze to the floor. "I just . . . wanted to actually . . . do something."

Batman paused. He turned to stare at his protege. He studied the boy's body-language and reviewed what he'd noticed of it that night. He concluded Robin hadn't shown a sign of defiance after the incident. In fact, he'd been extremely submissive since.

Batman spoke again in a calmer, quieter tone. "If you want to do more than tail, you should work on your throwing or fighting. Swinging directly at someone with a gun, however, is 'not' a good idea."

Robin snapped upright. His chin rose and eyes burned. A snarl entered his voice. "How would you know how I'm doing with my throwing and fighting? You haven't worked with me on them for weeks!"

Under his mask, Batman raised an eyebrow. Then he reviewed dates in his head. He "had" left Robin's martial arts training in Alfred's hands for months. He hadn't checked Robin's throwing for the same amount of time. He nodded. "Alright. Show me."

Dick grabbed a batarang and threw it. It landed in the hand of a training dummy twelve yards away. Batman froze.

When Robin had first tried throwing a batarang, he hadn't been able to hit the target from six feet away. Batman had given him directions while observing his practice sessions. After a month or so, he'd stopped. Why had he stopped?

He'd been preparing for and attending board meetings, studying convict files, doing research, and analyzing clues from open cases. A pricking conscious guided him toward his true reason, though. He'd seen Robin was getting better. He hadn't wanted to admit this. He hadn't wanted to believe the time was coming to tell Dick he was ready to use those skills in a real situation.

Batman closed his eyes and tucked his chin in. He forced his words out soft and low. "You've improved."

Robin slouched back into his previous position, hands pressed into his cheeks, elbows set upon his knees. He sighed. "I wanted to ask you if I could use them sometime out there, but you kept saying I should wait a whole year before doing anything besides tailing. I know it hasn't been that long, but I've been trying really hard. I kept hoping you might notice."

Batman flinched. He'd gotten out of touch with his ward. How out of touch, he was just beginning to realize, and only inches of aim had kept Dick from dying tonight.

His protege had worked hard. He had a lot of potential. Robin was capable of being much more than a tail. If Batman didn't let him spread his wings soon, he might lose him altogether, one way or another. At the very least Bruce needed to spend more time with Dick.

Batman swallowed a sigh and spoke steady and low. "You've put a lot of work into your throwing and fighting. Alfred told me how you've approved in the latter. I think you can do a little bit more than tail now. If you prove yourself ready while training with me a few hours a day this month, and I don't have a particular reason to want a suspect followed instead of captured, you can take them down yourself."

Robin's mouth dropped open. He straightened. His hands gripped the edge of the examination table. Their knuckles turned white under his gloves. "REALLY?!"

Batman nodded. There was no change in his expression and tone as he continued. "Yes, but you 'have' to do it 'right'."

The vigilante squatted down until he was at eye level with his protégé. He tried to give gravity to his words, so Dick would take what he was saying seriously. "You first need to use the batarang to knock any weapons out of their hands, before you approach them, and we're going to practice until you can throw one and hit my hand before I pull anything from my belt. We're also going to work even harder on your fighting, 'together.' Think you can handle that?"

"YEAH!"

Robin leapt out of his seat. He landed on his mentor, wrapping his arms around the man's neck. Bruce smiled slightly and wondered if Dick could hang on to that exuberance throughout the entire course of his training. He doubted it, but if the boy had pushed himself toward perfection on his own during the past few weeks. Batman also doubted Dick would give up. He wrapped his own arms around the boy in return. Then he frowned.

Still ... What would Gordon say? Batman's form slumped slightly at the thought.

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God Bless

ScribeofHeroes