Bruce smiled at Robin as he practiced on the parallel bars. The boy had taken his lecture on obedience in the field quite well, paying close attention and maintaining a serious demeanor throughout. He had no doubt that tonight Robin wouldn't be running off in pursuit of a criminal without Batman's express approval.

What they did was far too dangerous to take it so lightly. Bruce knew as well as anybody that taking a nine year old out to battle crime at night was a terrible idea. If Dick had been any other child, he would never have consented to his training and induction into the violent world of crime fighting. But the boy had been different from the moment Bruce had met him. His intelligence, talent, observation skills, and understanding was far above the norm, and his genuine need to help prevent his own tragedy from repeating itself had been integral in the Batman's decision to train him.

There were times, like the previous evening, however, when he questioned himself. This was a recipe for catastrophe. It was only a matter of time and he knew it. His desperation to put off the disaster a little while longer was the root of his seemingly endless list of rules that he forced the boy to follow religiously.

He walked into the changing room and stripped in preparation of donning the Batman persona. Grabbing the bottom portion of his Batsuit, he sat and began pulling the legs over his feet. Bruce frowned when they proved snug as he drew them up over his calves. He stood up and attempted to slide them over his thighs. They got stuck mere inches above his knees.

"What the . . .?" He growled, surprised.

He yanked, gaining another inch. He yanked again, this time while jumping. He got them to the top of his thighs finally, but he felt so confined by them that he thought he was a little worried he could lose his balance. He struggled, trying to wriggle them over his buttocks.

Bruce stared down in annoyance and perplexity. The pants barely covered his ass! If he bent over, Bruce was certain he would flash a plumber's crack at anyone unfortunate enough to be standing behind him. What the hell happened overnight? It was true that he had eaten before going to bed but not so much that could possibly result in this drastic of a change.

"Alfred!"

He grabbed the tunic from the hanger and thrust his arms through the sleeves. It's too snug as well? He pulled it over his head but nothing he did could compel the blasted top to make the journey over the bulging pectoral muscles of his chest.

"Alfred!" he yelled louder this time.

This is ridiculous, he groused to himself. He tried to pull the shirt back over his head so he could take it off but it wouldn't budge. It seemed to get stuck beneath his armpits, unable to drag it over his triceps.

"ALFRED!" he roared.

Two sets of feet came pounding toward the changing room. Robin stumbled to a halt in the doorway, his mouth hanging open. One didn't need to see his eyes behind the mask's lenses to know that they were as round as saucers. Alfred nearly sent the lad tumbling as he rounded the corner, grinding to a halt in shock.

"Good Lord!" the man gasped. "I-I don't understand . . ."

Normally, Bruce would have paid good money to see his unflappable butler shocked speechless, but not in this particular circumstance. He wanted to know what had happened to his Batsuit . . . and he wanted, perhaps even more than that vital bit of knowledge, out of it!

"This is something I would like to understand as well," he grumbled. He couldn't even lower his arms. Instead, they stuck out to his sides in a ridiculous fashion, making him resemble nothing more so than a stick figure.

"Alfred, how could something like this happen?" Bruce demanded to know.

The butler pushed the shocked youngster gently out of his path, moving into the room and circling his charge in mystification. "I must admit, I am at a loss, sir. I cleaned the suit just as I have on previous occasions and hung it up to dry. This should not have happened."

"This is unacceptable, Alfred. Something different had to have occurred for it to shrink like this." Bruce turned in a circle, following Alfred's progress in order to keep the older man in view.

"I-I cannot imagine . . . It is an enigma, sir."

As the shock passed, Alfred had to place a hand over his mouth. The entire situation was rather amusing, he had to admit, but he knew the younger man would be less than pleased should the Englishman give in to the urge to chuckle.

Bruce attempted to sigh and grunted. It was getting a little hard to breathe in this. The armored tunic felt as if it were trying to strangle him, not to mention he was becoming a little bit claustrophobic.

"Do . . ." he panted. "Do you think . . . you could help me out of this now . . . Please?"

Alfred blinked rapidly, his hand over his mouth. Although the man didn't move, his shoulders shook suspiciously. Bruce narrowed his eyes, glaring. Unfortunately, the batglare was less effective than it might normally be in this situation. As the intensity of the shaking in his shoulders increased, Alfred held up a finger, turned, and without a word, walked quickly out of the room.

Bruce stared in dismay at his manservant's retreating back. His startled gaze fell onto Robin. The boy was still standing frozen next to the door, his jaw dangling. As Bruce watched, Robin closed his mouth, sucking his quivering lower lip between his teeth in what appeared to be consternation. It didn't take a detective to figure out that his butler had left the room in order to laugh at him, nor require much effort to recognize the guilty mien of a nine-year-old boy.

Bruce had tucked the child into bed the previous evening before turning in himself. Alfred would have followed suit immediately after that. Since Dick had spent most of the day with Bruce, it stood to reason that whatever had befallen his suit had happened between bed and breakfast. Obviously, Dick hadn't remained in bed for the entirety of the night.

"Dick?"

The boy gulped.

"Do you want to tell me something?" Bruce asked, breathlessly. He hoped Alfred managed to recover his composure soon. Bruce needed help out of what was fast becoming a damned torture device.

The boy shook his head.

Bruce sighed. It was more like gasping for breath but he had meant it to be a sigh. "Dick, is there something that you should be telling me?"

Dick nodded but remained silent. A single tear escaped from under the mask, slithering down the boy's cheek. Dick's shoulders shook but not from laughter. Bruce didn't know exactly what the boy had done but Dick clearly had not expected the results of his actions to be this . . . and he was taking the discovery quite hard.

"Dick, it's okay," he said, striving to be calm. It wouldn't do to upset the boy more than he already was. "Come over here."

Wanting to take a seat on the bench, but unable to see well enough to judge the distance, Bruce sat back too far. He tipped over backward, unable to catch himself. His head banged into the locker behind him before he fell down between the two. His legs stuck straight up in the air.

Gah! This was so not happening . . . Except it was. All he needed now to make his humiliation complete was to have Clark to walk through that door.

He struggled to get up. He was forced to roll onto his side and worm his body free of the space. By the time he had pulled himself up into a kneeling position, Dick was gone.

Alfred reentered the room. "I heard a noise," he said, raising a curious eyebrow at Bruce's lack of dignity. "Are you alright, sir?"

Al least, the butler had regained his composure. Alfred moved to assist his elder charge back onto his feet.

"Did you see Dick when you came back in?" Bruce asked, panting in exertion. This was proving to be more difficult than had the rounding up of the gangs from the previous evening.

"Indeed. I passed the boy on my way in here. He was headed in the direction of the Batcomputer, sir." Alfred grabbed hold of the back of the tunic and tugged. "Ngh!" The butler grunted with the effort of rescuing the younger man from his confinement.

"The computer?" Bruce frowned. That made no sense. But, his mind slipped elsewhere as he struggled toward freedom.

It took some time but, with Alfred's assistance and a handy pair of scissors, Bruce was finally free of the Batsuit and breathing on his own. Throwing on the first thing he found, a t-shirt and a pair of sweats, Bruce headed out in search of his wayward ward. But, instead of discovering Robin, he found only the costume. It lay folded neatly on the computer chair. Dick had gone to the computer but, apparently, only to change.

Upstairs, Bruce checked in each of the rooms he passed while making his way to the boy's bedroom. They were all empty. When he peeked into the boy's room, he found Dick seated on the window seat in his pajamas. It surprised him a little that the boy had gotten ready for bed so early. Even without patrol, Dick's bedtime wasn't for hours yet. He continued to gaze out the window, ignoring Bruce's presence, although he had to know he was there.

"Mind if I join you, chum?" Bruce asked, making his way over.

Dick shrugged, sniffling. He wiped his nose on his sleeve. Bruce winced at that but didn't correct the action. Alfred wasn't present to protest, and Bruce thought there were more things to discuss at the moment than hygiene. He sat on beside Dick and gazed out onto the night. It was cloudy, he noted. Very few stars could be seen where a patch of sky was clear, the moon remained hidden. There wasn't anything visible in the darkness that might hold a young boy's attention but Dick stared out with impressive determination.

"I-I'm s-sorry, Bruce," Dick finally whispered.

Bruce watched Dick's reflection in the glass. In it, he could see a tear as it rolled down the boy's cheek. It was painful to see Dick upset and he had the sudden urge to bundle the child onto his lap and comfort him. He didn't. Bruce knew that Dick wasn't ready for comforting yet. The boy was still working up the courage for his confession.

"Really? And why is that?"

Dick's chin quivered and another tear followed the path of the first. "I-I was only tr-trying to help," he whimpered.

"How's that?"

"I-I felt bad that you had to get w-wet to save m-me. If I had o-obeyed . . ." Dick struggled to get the words out. "I just . . . didn't want you to have to w-wear powder or to chafe."

Bruce didn't comment. He waited, allowing the boy the time he needed to say what he needed to say.

"So I-I got up last night, and put your Batsuit in the d-dryer."

At that, Bruce did look at him. "If that was all that was needed, chum, don't you think that Alfred would have done that instead of hanging it up to dry?"

"I didn't know it would do that!" Dick wailed. He turned, looking miserably at his guardian. "I only wanted to help. Bruce, I'm sorry. P-Please, don't send me away!"

"What?" Bruce stared at the sobbing child, flabbergasted.

Enough of this, he thought, scooping the boy up in his arms. "Ah, Dickie, I wouldn't send you away. This is your home now. While shrinking the Batsuit wasn't a good thing, it wouldn't make me send you away." He tipped the child's head back with his finger, so he could look him in the eye. "In fact, I cannot think of anything that could make me want to do that. I'm afraid you're stuck with me."

Dick gulped, swallowing his tears. "Forever?"

"Forever," he promised.

Dick threw his arms around his guardian's neck for a bone-crushing hug. Bruce chuckled, returning the embrace.

The boy pulled back suddenly. "But what about Batman?'

"What about Batman?" Bruce frowned.

"You don't have your Batsuit anymore. How are you going to be Batman?"

"I think I have a spare or two around I can use in the meantime," Bruce reassured him. "But from now on, let's leave care of it up to Alfred. Deal?" He put his hand out for the child to shake.

Dick smiled, happy again as shook Bruce's hand. "Deal."

Bruce picked Dick up and tossed him on the bed, playfully. The boy bounced a few times before he scrambled under the covers, giggling.

"Isn't Batman going to go out tonight?" he asked. "I mean, since you have other suits to use."

"Not tonight, buddy," Bruce smiled. "Tomorrow is soon enough for Batman and Robin to start patrolling again. In the meantime, I think I'll head back to the cave and start drawing up the specs for a brand-new Batsuit."

Dick's cerulean-blue eyes sparkled with interest. "Really?"

"Don't worry," he told him. "You can see it tomorrow and put in your two-cents."

"My two-cents?"

"Your opinion." Bruce touched his chest, and waited for Dick to look down, then he flicked the boy in the nose. The first and last time that trick would ever work on him, he was sure. He grinned as Dick laughed. "I think Robin should have a say in it, too, don't you?"

"Really," Dick squealed again. He started bouncing in his excitement. "Can I go down and help?"

Bruce groaned. He probably should have waited ask for his input into the new design. "You're not too sleepy?"

"No way!" He proved it by jumping out of the bed. "It's too early to go to bed," he declared as he ran towards the door.

"Grab your robe and slippers," Bruce reminded him. "The cave's too chilly for bare feet."

Dick spun around, grabbing the robe from the foot of the bed and sliding into his slippers on the run. He bolted for the hallway. Bruce followed him out of the room at a slower pace. He had been thinking about upgrading the suit, anyway.

"There's no time like the present," he murmured to himself.