'You look tired.'

'It's been a long week.'

'Are you sleeping ok?'

Dick shrugged. He was sat cross-legged on his bed, his body covered in a baggy hoodie and sweats; his mask lay on the bed beside him. He shifted uncomfortably where he sat; he felt vulnerable without it. On the bed in front of him was his laptop, the screen directed at him as he video called Bruce.

'Dick?' The older man looked concerned, it was a look Dick was getting used to seeing.

'I'm handling it.' He said. He knew he couldn't outright lie to him, Bruce knew him too well. But he didn't want to tell his father about his latest episode of sleep paralysis. He didn't want to give him any reason to come to Jump City. He pulled on the sleeves of his hoodie, shrinking further into the material.

'Dick, I agreed to let you leave because you said that it would help. If being away isn't helping I'm going to insist you come home.'

'It is helping.' Said Dick quickly. 'I'm fine.'

Bruce sighed but decided not to bring up the fact that there were dark bruise-like shadows under the younger males eyes. There were certain subjects that he knew caused arguments with his young son. So many of their calls ended with arguments, but he could see there was something bothering the younger, so he didn't want to fight tonight. Instead, he changed the subject.

'How are your studies going?'

Dick groaned and looked away from the screen.

'Dick.' Bruce said, exasperated. He had never had any problem getting Dick to do his school work until this year. These days it was a task getting the teenager to meet deadlines and complete assignments.

'I've been busy.'

'That was the deal.'

'It's tedious!' Dick whined. He was intelligent, he knew that and the work that he needed to complete was ridiculously simple. And what was the point? It wasn't like he was planning on going back to being Dick Grayson.

'Not as tedious as unemployment, which will be your future if you don't get a high school diploma.'

Dick was about to point out that plenty of people were successful in life without a high school diploma, but he decided he didn't have the energy. Since waking up to find he was trapped in his own body, he hadn't been as keen to lie down and sleep. He knew the feelings would pass, they always did, but the week following an episode was always exhausting.

'I'll catch up next week.' He answered instead, not looking at the computer screen.

'Make sure you do.' Bruce's voice was stern but not unkind. He wasn't stupid, he could see Dick was pulling away from everything that reminded him of his sexual assault. And losing interest in things was a common side effect after trauma. But Bruce still held out hope that if he gave Dick time and space, his energetic boy wonder would return. But every now and again, Dick just needed a little push in the right direction. He hadn't been keen on the idea of Dick leaving Gotham and the safety of Wayne Manor, but after Dinah had informed him, she didn't think she could help Dick, he knew he would try anything. But he laid down ground rules with the sixteen-year-old. He had to continue with school online and the straight-A rule still applied. Dick also had to call either Bruce or Alfred twice a week and either Dinah or Leslie once a month. The biggest rule that Bruce made sure Dick understood, was that if he thought Dick's departure was becoming detrimental to the young boy's health, he would bring him home. After some initial arguments, Dick had agreed. Over the last 5 months, he had stuck to his word; it was only now that his grades were beginning to slip.

'Have you thought about taking the pills Leslie gave you?' Bruce said gently.

Dick groaned again, he regretted mentioning the pills to Bruce.

'I'm not depressed.' He said bluntly, shrinking even further into his hoodie, pulling the strings hanging from the hood so it bunched a little around his neck. 'I told you, I'm fine.'

Bruce nodded, avoiding this argument too.

'Wally asked about you again.'

For the first time emotion flashed across Dick's face, but it wasn't the usual joy that used to come with thoughts of his best friend. It was pain.

'You're going to have to speak to him eventually.'

'I know…I just...' he trailed off, bowing his head.

'I know chum. But what happened wasn't your fault and the team, especially Wally, don't think of you any differently.'

Dick bristled.

'I don't want to talk about this.'

'Ok. What do you want to talk about?' said Bruce patiently.

'How's Alfred?' Alfred was always a safe topic of conversation.

'He's well, he misses you.'

'I miss him too. The Titans are great, but they can be pretty immature.'

Bruce as about to comment that Dick could be immature at times too. But he stopped himself when he realised, he couldn't remember the last time Dick acted immaturely. Sure, he was moody and sometimes it was hard to get him to see reason. But that wasn't immaturity, that was depression – and Bruce didn't care how much Dick denied it, he knew the signs and so did Leslie and Dinah.

'You seem to be working well as a team' Bruce commented.

Dick nodded, if there was one thing, he was good at, it was getting a bunch of teenage heroes to work well together. He had had plenty of practice with Young Justice.

'Kalder mentioned the other day that he always said you would make a great leader.' Bruce instantly saw he'd made a mistake mentioning the other team again. The small interest Dick had had in the conversation vanished and he emotionally shut down.

'Bruce, I'm tired. Can we cut this short tonight?'

'Sure chum, get some sleep.'

Dick reached forward to shut down the laptop.

'I love you, Dickie.'

Dick nodded. 'I know Bruce.' He shut the computer.

He hadn't lied, he was tired. In the rare instances he took his mask off and truly became Dick Grayson again, he noticed that he was soon emotionally and mentally drained. He knew Bruce didn't approve of him being Robin all the time. Which was why when he called home Bruce made sure he always had his mask off. In a way that only Batman could, Bruce seemed to even know the difference between Dick and Robin when they were on the phone or when they texted. But Dick knew Robin was the only thing holding him together. Until he was ready to deal with what happened to him, Robin was keeping the world at bay.

He stored the laptop away and placed the sunglasses back on his face, taking a deep breath. He was fine. He could make it through this. He just needed time.

Pulling off the hoodie and slacks, he quickly dressed in his running gear. Running had become his time to clear his head. If the weather was particularly bad, he would just run on the treadmill in the gym. But for the most part, he would pull on a cap to make himself less noticeable and run on the edges of the city. Tonight, was the first clear night all week, he needed to get out. He pulled on his trainers and headed out of his room.

'Oh, friend Robin. You are going on your run?'

He had hoped not to see anyone on his way out, but he smiled at Starfire all the same.

'Yeh, Star. I won't be long.'

'Why do you run each night, Robin?' asked the ever-curious alien.

'It clears my head.' Said Robin, beginning to walk away from her.

'But why does your head need clearing? Is it full?'

'Kind of.' He said, still walking. 'Full of thoughts.'

'Do you not want thoughts in your head'

Not these thoughts – Robin thought dryly.

'I gotta go Star, I'll see you a bit later.' He felt like he should feel guilty about leaving the red-headed alien standing there when he hurried away. But his adrenaline was already beginning to pump around his body, he needed to run. He pulled his bike from the garage and drove through the secret tunnels from Titans Tower that led to the city. From there he drove the short distance to the edge of the water. He parked his bike, leaving it under a camouflage tarp in an unused alleyway. He walked towards the water, pulling his cap down lower on his face and putting his earbuds in his ears. Once his feet began hitting the floor with an increasing pace, it didn't take long to get himself into a rhythm. His feet against the ground, his breath in his lungs, his heart beating heavily in his chest. With every repeated motion he felt the tension and the anxiety, that always built when he called home, melt away. He didn't stop until he was 4 miles into his run, only then did he slow down and let his thoughts filter back in.

There were times, like the previous night, when he considered doing what Bruce suggested; taking the antidepressants that Leslie had prescribed. Maybe if he changed the chemicals in his brain, he would feel alright again. But then there was the niggling fear that if he took them, he wouldn't feel like himself, he would be different. But wasn't that the point? He also knew that he should call Wally. The redhead had been the best friend he could ever ask for, he had supported him after the event and given him space when he had asked for it. But the fact he was now asking Bruce for updates meant he was getting worried. He knew he should call him, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. He hated the look people gave him. It was a look of pity. Poor helpless Dick Grayson. Even when he was Robin the look had been there, once they knew the truth, they hadn't been able to differentiate between Robin and Richard.

That was why he needed to be around the Titans. They only knew Robin, they didn't know about the terrible things that had happened to Dick Grayson. Being with them meant he was away from all of the pitying looks, the questions and concern. Here he could heal. He just needed time.