A/N: Sorry for the delay! I meant to post this a few days ago but then RL interfered, as it so often does.

Thanks so much to everyone who was kind enough to leave a review on chapter 1! Every single time I get a review it feels like getting a present. Thank you! :)

"Good evening, Master Bruce. How was your trip?"

"Frustrating, but ultimately successful," Bruce replied as he set down his briefcase and shrugged off his coat. "Hashiba kept changing the conditions of the deal but we got them to sign eventually." He hung up his coat and picked up his briefcase, pulling off his tie with his other hand. "Where's Dick?"

"He is in his room, sir."

Bruce paused. Dick was home but wasn't coming down to greet him? Odd.

Alfred seemed to read his thoughts. "I believe something may have happened, sir."

"What? Is he all right?"

"I'm afraid you shall have to ask him that yourself, Master Bruce. He has hardly spoken two words since his return from a mission with the team yesterday afternoon. I have attempted to speak with him about the matter but he will not talk. He has also barely touched his food, sir."

Bruce frowned. "I'll talk to him."

"Very good, sir."

Bruce quickly changed into something a little more comfortable before going up to Dick's room, all the while trying to squash the sense of foreboding in his gut. He knocked on Dick's closed door and stuck his head inside to see Dick sitting hunched over at his desk, his back to the doorway. "Can I come in?"

"Oh, hey, Bruce," Dick said without turning to look at him. "Sure."

Bruce frowned at the lackluster greeting and the feeling in his gut intensified. He schooled his features into a more neutral expression as he approached the desk. Dick appeared to be doing homework; books and pieces of paper were strewn about and he had his laptop and an open notebook in front of him.

Dick's cheeks were a little flushed, his hair was damp and slightly tousled, and Bruce could smell the lingering scent of Dick's shower gel. When his eyes fell on Dick's face his eyebrows drew together into another frown. There was a sizeable bruise on Dick's right cheekbone, the skin around his eye red and a little swollen, and another bruise stretching across the left side of his jaw.

"Dick, what happened?"

"What happened when?" Dick asked, without looking up from his homework. Dick's phone buzzed, but the boy ignored it. "Care to be more specific?"

"The bruises on your face," Bruce clarified, though he had a feeling Dick knew exactly what he was talking about. The fact that Dick had yet to even glance at him bothered Bruce.

Dick shrugged. "Mission with the team didn't go entirely as planned. I got caught, the team came to my rescue. The end. How was your trip?"

"Whoa, hold on, you got 'caught' as in captured?"

"Yup. The bad guys just roughed me up a little. No big deal."

Bruce's frown deepened. Dick sounded off. He was clearly trying to downplay what had happened, and his trying to change the subject and the white-knuckled grip he had on his pen suggested there was something he didn't want Bruce to know about. Something that had upset him, put him on edge.

Dick's phone buzzed again, but Dick still ignored the device.

"Don't you want to get that?" Bruce asked.

Dick shrugged.

The phone buzzed a third time.

"It sounds urgent."

"It's just Wally," Dick said with a shrug. "He's been texting me all day."

"What if he's in trouble?"

"He wouldn't be texting me if he was," Dick replied, but he checked his phone anyway. As he did so, his sleeve caught on something, pulling it up slightly and revealing a bandage around his wrist.

"What's wrong with your wrist?"

"Huh?" Dick looked at his arm and immediately pulled his sleeve further down to cover up the bandage. "Oh. Uh…the handcuffs they put me in were a little tight. Look, Bruce, do you mind? I kinda want to finish my homework. This stuff's due tomorrow."

Bruce wasn't about to be brushed off.

"Dick," he began, reaching out to touch Dick's shoulder. His hand had barely made proper contact when Dick flinched so violently that he almost knocked over his desk lamp. Surprised, Bruce immediately withdrew his hand as Dick looked up at him with wide eyes.

Bruce's heart sank. Something was very wrong.

Dick recovered quickly, giving him a smile that was so fake it set Bruce's teeth on edge. "Sorry. Guess my shoulder's still a little sore."

What Dick was telling him didn't mesh with the naked fear that had flashed across the boy's face a moment ago, and it made Bruce clench his jaw until it hurt. He dragged a chair over to the desk and sat down so he could look Dick in the eye. "Dick, tell me what happened."

Dick's smile faltered. "I already told you what happened, okay? I'm fine."

"You are not fine. Something happened on your mission with the team that upset you. I want you to tell me what it is."

Dick's features slipped into a scowl but a polite knock on the door forestalled his reply. Bruce didn't have to turn around to know who it was.

"Pardon me for interrupting, sirs," Alfred said, his tone apologetic. "You have a phone call from Mister Fox, Master Bruce."

"Tell him I'll call him back," Bruce said, not taking his eyes off of Dick, who was starting to fidget under his stare.

"I'm very sorry, Master Bruce, but he said it was urgent. Tiblisi Facilities is apparently threatening to terminate their contract with Wayne Tech due to some kind of malfunction, sir."

Of course it was urgent. Bruce very nearly growled with frustration as he got up from the chair. "Fine. I'll be right there."

"Very good, sir," Alfred said before he left the two of them alone once more.

Bruce stared down at Dick, who refused to look up at him. "Don't think you're off the hook, Dick. We'll talk about this when I get back, understood?"

"Bruce, there's nothing to talk a-"

"Is that understood?"

"Okay! Yes! Understood."

"Good."

Unfortunately, it took longer for Bruce to avert the imminent crisis at Wayne Tech than he would have liked. By the time he finally hung up the phone after his last-ditch but ultimately successful attempt at damage control it was well past dinner-time. What was worse was that he was already late for patrol and hadn't had a chance to talk to Dick. The boy's evasiveness disturbed him; it was out of character for a kid who generally enjoyed talking about pretty much anything.

"Did you manage to straighten everything out, Master Bruce?" Alfred asked him when Bruce passed him in the hallway.

"Barely," Bruce replied absently. "Is Dick down in the cave, Alfred?"

"I'm afraid Master Dick has already gone to bed, sir."

Bruce stopped dead in his tracks. "What?" He'd fully expected Dick to be waiting for him in the Batcave, ready and eager to go on patrol, as he always was.

"He said he wasn't feeling well, sir."

Bruce frowned. That sounded suspiciously like an excuse to avoid having to talk to him. Dick never missed patrol, barring broken bones or other debilitating injuries and team missions. Even when Dick had had the flu a few months ago he'd tried to hide how sick he was so Bruce would take him on patrol. The fact that he was purposely skipping out on doing something he loved just to avoid talking to Bruce told him things were even worse than he'd thought.

"Did he look unwell to you, Alfred?"

"He seemed more upset than ill, sir. He barely ate two spoonfuls."

Bruce nodded. "I'll talk to him tomorrow. Right now I have to go on patrol. Would you keep an eye on Dick, Alfred?"

"Of course, sir."

oOo

It was 3 a.m. when Batman finally returned from a long and arduous patrol. He would never admit it but Batman was less efficient without Robin at his side. Although he kept one eye on the boy at all times, with Robin in the field Batman was able to focus on taking down the big guns while Robin incapacitated the lesser criminals.

As he took a shower and changed into civilian clothes, Bruce made a mental note to talk to Dick as soon as he got home from school tomorrow. He would not let Robin out on patrol before he knew exactly what had happened on that mission with the team that had Dick behaving so out of character. If Dick still refused to tell him, Bruce would have to go through the team's mission reports or question the team in person. Dick would be pissed off at him, but Bruce would find out what happened one way or another.

He was halfway up the stairs leading to the bedrooms when the screams began. Heart hammering, he took the remainder of the steps two at a time and sprinted down the hallway to Dick's room. He barreled through the door, ready to take on whatever he found inside, but stopped short when he saw that there was no one in the room but Dick, who was flailing about in his bed.

Bruce frowned. It had been a while since Dick had had one of his nightmares, or at least one of the ones that had him screaming down the manor. Bruce quickly strode over to the bed and switched on the reading light, freezing when he got a good look at Dick.

Dick's thrashing had caused his pajama top to ride up a little, exposing some very suspicious-looking scratches and bruises on his stomach. And- Jesus Christ were those teeth marks?!

Red hot fury rose up inside Bruce like a flash flood. His fingernails dug into his palms as his hands balled into tight fists and his teeth clenched so hard his jaw cracked. Someone had put their hands on his son! Bruce felt himself shake with pure rage. Some sick son of a bitch had dared to touch his boy and- Christ, what if it had gone beyond that?

Something twisted in his gut at the thought, like a coiled snake about to strike, and he felt his blood boil. The sudden urge to go out and smash things – people – and tear them apart was overwhelming, the adrenalin roaring through his veins demanding vengeance.

"No! Get- get off of me! GET OFF ME! STOP!"

The terrified cry was what finally pulled him back from the edge and reminded him that Dick was still in the throes of his nightmare. Bruce grappled with his anger and outrage and managed to wrestle it down to a more controllable level.

"Dick." Bruce grimaced when his voice came out sounding more like Batman than Bruce Wayne, and cleared his throat. "Come on, Dick, wake up, you're having a nightmare." Avoiding Dick's flailing limbs, Bruce very carefully placed a hand on Dick's shoulder and shook it gently. Dick woke with a start, eyes wide and wild, backpedalling until his back hit the headboard.

Bruce quickly withdrew his hand and shifted so that he was in Dick's field of vision. "Dick, it's all right, you're safe."

Dick jumped and stared at him, breathing hard until it finally registered where he was and who was with him. "Bruce?"

Bruce knelt beside the bed, bringing himself down to eye-level. "Yeah, it's me. You were having a nightmare. You okay, kiddo?"

Dick shuddered and pulled his knees up to his chest. "Y-yeah."

"Want to talk about it?" Bruce asked, his heart aching at the distraught look on Dick's face.

Dick refused to look at him. "Not really."

Bruce sighed. "Dick, I know what happened."

Dick's eyes widened and this time he did look at Bruce. "W-what?"

"I know what happened on your mission with the team." Bruce took a deep breath, trying to keep a lid on his already rising temper. Just the thought of what some sick fuck had done to Dick made him want to strangle someone. "Dick, when you were captured…someone touched you, didn't they?"

All color drained from Dick's face and his mouth fell open. "What? N-no! That didn't- I- Who told you that?"

"Nobody. I saw the marks, Dick."

It was as if the words sliced through the strings of denial that had kept Dick from coming apart; his face crumpled and he curled in on himself, hugging his legs to his chest and hiding his face in his knees, his shoulders shaking.

Struggling to rein in his anger once more, Bruce got up and sat down on the mattress beside Dick, careful not to crowd him. Dick flinched when Bruce placed a hand on his back, but when Bruce didn't remove his hand, Dick gradually began to lean into the touch. Bruce took it as permission and slowly started rubbing Dick's back.

He felt completely out of his depth. Dick rarely cried, which made the few times that he did all the more disconcerting. Even after four years of having Dick in his life, he still felt ill-equipped to deal with his tears.

They sat like that for a while until finally Dick calmed down and uncurled himself just enough for him to be able to lean against Bruce's side a little. Bruce was tempted to put an arm around him to pull him closer but wasn't sure how that would be received. He needed to let Dick feel in control.

"Sorry," Dick muttered, sniffling.

Bruce reached for the box of tissues on the nightstand and offered Dick one, who used it to wipe at his wet cheeks and nose. "You have nothing to apologize for, Dick."

"Crying is for babies."

"Who told you that?"

Dick shrugged.

"Given the circumstances you have every right to be upset."

Dick said nothing and stared at his knees.

Bruce steeled himself. "Dick, I need you to tell me what happened."

Dick's head jerked up to stare at him. "W-what? You said you already knew what happened!"

"I have a pretty good idea, yes, but I need to know how far it went."

Dick's face flushed. "Why?"

"Medical reasons, for one, but also for my own peace of mind."

Dick turned his face away. "But I- I don't want to talk about it. I just want to forget it happened…"

"I know, kiddo, but it's important. I want to make sure you're all right and that that bast- creep that put his hands on you gets what's coming to him, and that he doesn't do it to anyone else." Anger stirred in his gut once more and he stamped down on it firmly. Now was not the time to go into vigilante-mode.

Dick picked at a loose string on his comforter before he finally said: "It-it was two guys."

Bruce nearly blew a gasket. "What?!"

"I mean, I was blindfolded so I'm not sure if there were other people in the room too, but- there was one guy that- that held down my legs. I- I was lying on my back on the floor and my hands were tied to something so when- when I realized there was- there was a guy on top of me doing- stuff, I started kicking out really hard. But then that guy ordered the second guy to hold down my legs. He didn't want to at first but the- the guy on top of me started threatening him."

Bruce's hands curled into fists. So there were two men that had touched his child. God damn it all to hell!

"Anyway, they- he- the team got there before the guy could do anything really bad."

Bruce frowned, his heart pounding. "Define 'really bad'."

"…R-rape?" Dick said, his cheeks aflame.

Bruce slumped back against the headboard, letting out a long sigh of relief; his son had been spared the horrible physical and emotional trauma of actual rape. Thank god. Molestation was traumatizing enough but rape- he wasn't sure if Dick would've been able to come back from that.

He knew he had the team to thank for saving Dick from suffering a horrific emotional wound that might never have healed. As if the kid hadn't been traumatized enough by his parents' deaths, he had to- wait. The team?

Bruce frowned. "Where was the team?" he asked suddenly. "They should've had your back."

Dick stiffened beside him, looking up at Bruce with wide eyes, his embarrassment and mortification momentarily forgotten. "No, Bruce, don't blame the team! It was my fault. All- all of it. I- I went off on my own and I shouldn't have," Dick went on in a rush. "I thought- if I could just get the building's blueprints we'd get the mission done a lot faster so I went looking for a computer but I never told the team and then I was dumb enough to get caught and-"

"Whoa, whoa, slow down, kiddo. You're saying that what that son of a- that creep did to you was your fault because you didn't tell the team what you were going to do and then got captured?"

Dick nodded, eyes averted and shrinking in on himself again.

"Dick- hey, look at me." He waited until Dick had turned back towards him, but his eyes remained downcast. Bruce reached out, slowly, and tilted Dick's chin up so that reluctant blue eyes were finally looking up at him. "Dick, none of this was your fault. Do you understand me? None of it."

"But if I- if I hadn't gone off on my own or just told the team where I was going, it- it never would've happened. I was stupid and- and I guess I- I had it coming."

Bruce stared at him. Was Dick really saying he deserved what that monster had done to him? "Dick, no. Just- NO. What if it had happened to Wally? Or M'gann?"

"It never would've happened to them."

"Why, because they have superpowers?"

"Well…yeah."

"You know as well as I do that that doesn't make them invulnerable. They all have weaknesses. When Wally was captured and beat up by Kobra's cronies a few months ago, did you think the beating he got was his own fault? That he'd had it coming? That he'd asked for it by getting caught?"

"What? No!"

"Why not?"

"Because- because he didn't ask for it and…because he…had no control over what happened after he got caught…" Dick said slowly, understanding clearly dawning on him.

"Exactly. Falling into enemy hands must be avoided at all times and yes, from now on you will tell the team where you're going, but you had no control over what those men did to you after you were captured. You didn't ask for it and you sure as hell didn't deserve it."

Dick seemed to mull that over for a while, absent-mindedly picking at his comforter. "I…guess you're right," he said eventually.

"You guess?" Bruce pressed.

"No…you're right. I know you're right," Dick said, though Bruce wished he sounded a little more sure of himself.

A sudden shiver ran through Dick.

Bruce frowned. "Are you cold?"

Dick shook his head. "No, I- it's just- sometimes I can- I can still feel him on me, Bruce…" Dick said in a near whisper.

"Oh kiddo," Bruce said, and this time he did wrap an arm around the small, huddled form beside him and pulled Dick close.

Dick stiffened at first but gradually relaxed against him, eventually burying his face in Bruce's shirt.

"It's okay, kiddo," Bruce murmured as he rubbed Dick's back. "We'll work through this, you'll be okay."

Bruce's mind reeled with violent thoughts. Tomorrow he was going to check the team's mission reports to find out who were responsible for his son's anguish and then the Batman would pay them a little visit.

oOo

The next day found Batman glowering through the barred windows of the Bridgeport Correctional Center's medical ward. Ezekiel Payne, the scum that had put his filthy hands on Robin, was handcuffed to a bed in a room he shared with ten other injured inmates and defendants.

The team had done a number on him: the arm not handcuffed to the bedrail was in a cast, as was his right leg. His face was swollen and bruised, his nose quite obviously broken.

Conflicting emotions warred inside Batman. On the one hand it was satisfying to see that the piece of filth that had molested Robin had been quite thoroughly dealt with by the team, who had clearly been as pissed off as he was at finding out what that monster had done to Robin. On the other, he hated that he had not been the one to inflict pain on the man.

He would have to pay the vermin another visit once he'd recovered enough to be released from the medical ward. There was no way he would let Payne walk around without having been properly threatened by the Batman.