********Author's Note********

All right, first of all I want to say sorry that this isn't a proper update. I have another chapter almost ready to go but, in the way that these things usually go, I seem to have gotten a job this summer that decided to take over my life. Not necessarily a bad thing, of course, especially when I'm getting the sweet monies, but that does mean that to some it probably appears that I've abandoned this little story. That's not true, of course, and I have every intention of getting that next chapter posted sometime in the next week.

On a side note, about that sweet job, I'm a body artist and soon-to-be caricaturist at Six Flags Over Texas. So if any of you are in the area and happen to stop by...well, it would be awesome if you bought an ungodly amount of henna tattoos, but I'll settle for you telling me my story is awesome :P Look for the nametag that says Megan :D

Until I post again, here's a little one-shot.

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Neville didn't like the darkness. In fact, he hated it--and he'd never admit it, of course, especially with Bruce Wayne constantly watching him. The Batman rarely changed his mind, or second-guessed himself. This frightened the young boy even more, because even if he didn't think he believed in himself, there'd never be any way of convincing Mr. Wayne that his fear was too great or his cowardice too strong. It just made Mr. Wayne push him even further, as if pushing the limits of the young boy's terror would deaden him to it somehow. But that wasn't the case...

The mechanical whirring that preceded the arrival of the elevator brought Neville out of his reverie. He hit a button, flooding the so-called Batcave with light just as the shiny metal doors opened to reveal his mentor standing there, the butler Alfred close behind, as usual. Out of habit, Mr. Wayne scanned the room, alighting for a moment on Neville, whose wiry and muscled frame was shining with sweat.

"Hard at work, Master Longbottom?" asked Alfred.

Neville nodded. "I just finished my day's training," he said, glancing over at Mr. Wayne for...what was it, approval? The man nodded, then without a word took a seat in front of a large computer console.

"Do you require anything?" asked the butler.

"He should eat," said Mr. Wayne without looking at either of them. "A protein shake, some carbohydrates. You know, the usual." Alfred bowed, then reentered the elevator, leaving Neville alone. Neither of them spoke for several minutes. Neville was looking at the costumes that Mr. Wayne kept in clear glass cases--the original Robin, Batgirl before she became the Oracle--when Mr. Wayne spoke up.

"You seem uneasy, Neville." He turned, a little startled and intimidated to hear the man speak his name.

"Eh...I..." The desire to lie was right on the tip of his tongue, but a part of him knew that lying to a man like Bruce Wayne was pointless. "I guess I am, sir," he said.

"Hmm..." Mr. Wayne had turned around and was staring at him. The shadows pooled on his craggy face so that Neville could hardly see his eyes, something that made him feel even more vulnerable. "Why do you think that is?"

"Because I really don't know why anybody thinks I can do this," he said, before he could stop himself.

His skin crawled when a long silence stretched out between them. He anxiously wiped the sweat from his brow, staring at the black mass that was Mr. Wayne's face.

Finally, Mr. Wayne stood. "I have some things to attend to. You may return to the manor for the time being. Alfred should have a meal prepared for you by now. We will speak more later." Neville felt a little as if he had been slapped across the face--it was obvious that he was being kicked out, at least for the time being. A bit ashamed, he got into the elevator and returned to the elaborate interior of Wayne Manor, where he was no longer Robin--not that he was yet, anyway.

Alfred had set a place for him at the small table in the breakfast room, whose table was only slightly smaller than the long dinner table in the room adjacent. The butler was busying himself nearby. Neville downed his meal in a matter of minutes, and Alfred was on hand to take the plate the moment he was done. Neville laid his head down on the table, feeling sick and tired and agitated. When he heard footsteps again he was already prepared to tell Alfred he didn't need anything, but it was a different voice that greeted him.

"You look exhausted. Bruce really does like to put you through the trenches doesn't he?"

Neville's head shot up. He was suddenly looking at somebody he'd only seen in pictures--the first Robin, Dick Grayson, who was now a superhero in his own right--Nightwing.

"H-hello," said Neville.

"I was supposed to meet him but it looks like duty calls," said Dick, gesturing toward the window, where the sky had already grown black without him noticing. "Ah, well, I can stick around old Gotham until morning," he said. He took the seat next to Neville, and a few moments later Alfred had returned with a plate that he sat down in front of Dick.

"Fantastic! My favorite, Alfred," he said with a smile.

"I haven't been touched by senility yet. Of course I remember," he said with a curt bow.

"So," said Dick between bites, "how's it feel to be getting ready to take up the old red and green uniform?" he said. "Tommy found you, right? What's your story?"

Neville shrugged. "It was right around the time of the big Arkham riot nine years ago."

"Yeah," said Dick with a scowl. "Joker, Two-Face, Harley Quinn...they all managed to pull a runner. I had to come help with that."

Neville shook his head, feeling a heavy weight in the pit of his stomach. "Yeah. Well...my dad was a detective. My mom was a prosecutor, and the both of them handled the legal stuff last time Batman locked Joker up. Harley decided that maybe if something happened to my mom and dad, Joker would have a shot at escaping. So she made her way to my house with a bunch of his thugs..."

Dick cursed. "Yeah, I remember that," he said after a long moment. "The Longbottoms...dosed up with Joker Juice. Didn't kill them, but..."

"But they've been in a mental hospital most of my life," said Neville quietly. "Anyway, a few months ago Harley Quinn escaped with the Joker, but the Joker was put back behind bars. I don't know what I thought I could do, but I started sneaking out at night...thinking maybe I could find her..."

"Thinking maybe you could get yourself killed," said Dick with a shake of his head.

"Yeah," said Neville sheepishly. "One night I found her. But I didn't know that the Joker had managed to get out, too...so when I cornered her, they all just started laughing...I was fighting off these guys who had to be insane...laughing like crazy until suddenly there was this big black shadow and they all stopped thinking it was so funny..."

"Then Batman swooped in to save the day, that's usually how the story goes," said Dick, shaking his head.

"Actually...no," said Neville. "It was Robin...Tom. He pulled me out of there and brought me here. Told Mr. Wayne what he'd seen and once they'd heard my story Mr. Wayne called my gran and told her he had selected me for a prestigious scholarship to go to a school out of state, somewhere in Kansas. And that's when I found out about the Academy."

"So, this was two months ago?"

"Right after school let out," said Neville.

Dick whistled, clapping Neville on the shoulder. "The Academy...and the new Robin, too. Sounds like you're going to be a busy boy."

Alfred came into the room with a small black phone. "Master Wayne has contacted us. He would like you to meet him...in the proper dress, of course."

"Thankfully, that isn't bright yellow tights anymore," he said with a grin. He tousled Neville's hair and took the phone. "I'll take it from here Alfred."

Neville watched him as he left. "He's really cool," he said, almost as if he'd forgotten that Alfred was in the room.

The butler chuckled. Neville turned to look at him. "What was he like as a kid? I mean...when he started being Robin?"

"Oh, very different than the man you see now," said Alfred. "A most unusual sort. He made some rather rash decisions, had to be pulled out of several rough situations...a bit uncertain of himself, if I remember. Yes, a most unusual boy...though I seem to be finding myself in the care of an abundance of unusual young men. Would you care for some tea before bed, Master Longbottom?"

Neville said nothing and after a moment Alfred left the room. He went to the window and looked into the sky, where a perfect crescent of light marked the edge of the signal they used to call the Batman.