Author's Note: This chapter turned out much longer than I anticipated, which is why it's posting in the afternoon instead of the morning. I also posted the map I promised on my blog yesterday, for those who are interested. Happy reading!


After the nutrition tablet debacle, Robin was expecting to be driven hard for the rest of the weekend. He knew his mentor thought it had been short-sighted of him to give away all of his emergency rations, but he couldn't make himself agree entirely. KF's not hungry anymore, he shrugged as the other boy zipped ahead to a promising tree. That's worth it, I think. It would be better to starve to death knowing that he'd done everything he could for those he cared about than to be a miser, deny his friend food, and possibly still end up just as dead, he decided.

It would be best to avoid sharing that conclusion with Batman, however, so he simply smiled and said nothing as he started a pile of dry brush back at camp. The slight nod of approval he was sent after the first delivery was surprising, but what he found when he brought his third load made him outright doubt his eyes. "...What are you guys doing?" he inquired, stopping work to approach the two men who were kneeling on the ground.

"Building a fire ring," the black-clad figure answered.

"Oh." Mild embarrassment filled him for having asked something so obvious. He knew what a fire pit looked like – heck, he'd helped build his fair share with the circus, gathering rocks and putting them in a circle when the nights were chilly but no one could stand to be cooped up in their trailers – but with Batman it was usually better to check. What appeared to be a fire ring might just as well have turned out to be the launch pad for a secret miniature satellite or something equally as awesome. "Okay."

"...Robin, what are you doing?" came from over his shoulder a minute later. Dropping the flat piece of wood he'd been using as a scraper, he craned his neck to find both adults staring at him. Aw, what'd I do now?!

"I'm...making KF and I's fire pit," he answered, gulping. "I mean...wasn't I supposed to? We need one, right?"

Flash shot Batman a look that the boy couldn't read. That mystery was nothing, however, in comparison to the bolt of guilt that sprinted across the mouth beneath the cowl. Before he could do more than begin to cock his head at it, his mentor's expression cleared. "You don't have to make your own fire pit," he was informed quietly. "You and Kid Flash may use this one with us."

"Oh! Oh," he repeated, blushing and feeling even sillier than before. Hadn't he just been thinking that it was better to double check than to assume? Chastising himself, he gave a weak smile. "I guess I'll go get some more wood, then."

"No. There's plenty. You have something else to do right now." Rising, Batman brushed loose dirt from his knees and turned to Flash. "Do you want to utilize starting the fire as an opportunity for Kid Flash to practice compartmentalization?"

"Uh...sure," the speedster agreed. "Getting to go fast and lighting something on fire? He'll love that. Works for me."

"Good. Robin...come with me."

He followed, confused but not eager to make things worse by arguing. "Where are we going?" he asked when they had walked for several minutes in as straight of a line as the forest would allow.

"Back to the clearing we landed in."

He stopped cold. "You're not...you're not sending me home, are you?" he whispered. You said we could use your fire pit, and you wouldn't say that if you were sending me away, but...why else would we go there right now? You called the plane back, didn't you? His eyes grew hot. I don't want to go home! Let me try again, please! I'll do better!

"What?" The man retraced his steps, and Robin felt hidden eyes examining him. A massive sigh was heaved, and a second later a hand landed on his shoulder. "...No, I'm not sending you home. Why would you think so?"

"I...I dunno." He sniffled as shame crept in over his panic. "I guess because I screwed up?"

"Mm...you made a decision that might – or might not – affect your ability to survive long-term in the situation we're acting out. It wasn't the wisest choice, but..." He paused. "...That's what training is for, Robin. It's an opportunity for you to make mistakes and try out options in a semi-controlled environment. Do you understand?"

"I do," he nodded, peering at him, "but...um..."

"'Um' what?"

"Did you just figure that out, like just now? Cause..." He scuffed his boot against the soft moss of the forest floor. "Well, it kind of sounded like you were realizing it as you said it. You know what I mean, when someone sounds like that?"

The fingers on his shoulder jerked in surprise, and he knew he'd hit the nail on the head. "...You have a better ear for tones than I realized," a roundabout answer was given. "Perhaps once you've finished mastering Spanish we'll start you on Mandarin."

Robin smirked, suddenly feeling much better. "So...yes, then?"

Batman's lips twitched upwards for the space of a breath. "Your aptitude has been already been noted," he said, rising. His hand slid back until the boy felt it between his shoulder blades, gently guiding him forward. "Now, let's finish our task before your friend gets hungry again."

Twenty minutes later he bounded back into camp with four long stems in his hands. "KF," he called out joyfully, "look, we get to cook our own food!"

"Duuuude," the redhead gasped, vanishing from the fire ring and appearing at his side. "No way! For real?"

"For real! That's what these are for!" He brandished the sticks over his head, shaking them in his excitement. "We cut them out of willow trees, see? And then we shaved one end and sharpened it. Batman showed me how. Mine aren't as neat as his," he observed, comparing the branches, "but isn't that awesome?!"

"It would be," KF replied sadly, "if we were going to have some way to cook."

Robin frowned. "...What do you mean?"

"...I can't make a fire. I'm terrible at compartmentawhatsit. Crap! See, I can't even say it!"

"Ooh..." His mood fell to match his friend's. "Well...that's okay," he gave him an encouraging nudge. "We'll just figure out another way."

"I told you he wouldn't be mad," Flash called. "Compartmentalization is hard, Kid. Don't feel bad about not getting it the first time."

"...You thought I'd be mad?" Robin asked, latching onto the elder speedster's first comment. "Why?" That's weird, bro, he bit back. I've never been mad at you. Not really, at least.

"Well...it's the simulation. I mean, if we can't make fire we could totally, you know...die."

"Yeah, but we can make fire, bro. Here, hold these." Passing the roasting forks over, he reached into his belt. "I know they're here somewhere...aha!" Yanking out an almost-flat plastic envelope no wider than two of his fingers, he presented it proudly. "Matches!"

"...You just carry those around with you everywhere? Why didn't we just use those to start with?!"

"I don't know. I guess so you could practice making just your hands go fast. But Batman says you never know when you'll need to light a torch or...well...blow something up," he shrugged, "so we carry matches. This little pouch thing is waterproof, too, so they're good even if you have to swim or get wet some other way."

"That's good. Now we won't die. I still wish I could have started the fire, though."

"You can! Just use these, I don't mind."

"...You're sure?"

"Totally! Just be careful; we only have three tries, and after that we'll be in major trouble."

The fluffy pile of tinder in the middle of the ring all but exploded when the first flickering stick was held to it. Both boys began to pile bigger fuel on, but after a moment the bright flame withered and fell back. "Oh, no," KF moaned. "We killed it!"

"...I know what we did wrong, I think," Robin broached, thinking back to the dozens of blazes he had seen lit when he was younger. While he'd never been permitted to feed the fire, he recalled the care with which others had fed each stick into the inferno. Tanti said fire is like a living thing, he mused. It has to breathe. "It needs more air. We're smothering it. It's like we're stop-drop-and-rolling it to death."

"...So do we take stuff off of it, or...?"

"I guess we have to."

"Uh, no," Flash intervened. "You don't take stuff off of it. I will." Moving forward from where he'd been watching, he removed the majority of what they had placed in the pit. "There, go ahead and try again. Everything I grabbed seemed to be out, but be careful anyway. I don't want either Batman or Iris trying to take my head if one of you burns yourself."

"But we're both wearing heat-resistant gloves," Robin pointed out. "We can't burn ourselves."

"Let's not test that theory," Batman rumbled from behind him. "Just because your gear is capable of protecting you from high temperatures doesn't mean you should expose yourself to them unnecessarily."

"Got more wood, I see," Flash commented.

He turned to look. "Didn't we get enough?" he asked, concerned that he'd dropped the ball in yet another area. For all that Batman had said the whole purpose of training was to make mistakes in a controlled environment, he still wanted to get as much right as he could.

"You got plenty. I only brought larger logs because they'll require less frequent replacement."

"Oh. Okay." His worry assuaged, he directed his attention back to their project. "Look!" he cried out as a breeze ghosted through camp. "Did you see that?! I think it's still alive, KF! We can save it!"

"We didn't kill it?!"

"Nope! Hurry, give it some of that bark!"

Ten minutes later they sat back and let the heat of the eager young flames bathe their faces. Batman and Flash joined them, sitting on the grass somewhat uncomfortably. Dusk teased the sky overhead, painting the few clouds that were visible over the trees a faded pink. The air was all forest and smoke and faint sweat, silent except for the crackle of the hungry blaze and the faint gurgle of the creek nearby.

No one spoke, and Robin tried to remember when he had last felt this exact sort of contentment. As much as he had enjoyed his night out on the lawn with Bruce the previous summer, it had been too tame to qualify. No, his eyebrows drew down, he had to go back to before in order to find this feeling. Before, when he'd never even heard of Batman and his parents were still alive to inhale the primordial melange of camp with him...

"Ow!" A distant prick behind his jaw snapped him out of his memory before it could fully manifest. It was probably for the best, he thought fleetingly as he reached for the sting, since he didn't want to start crying in the middle of training.

"...Mosquito?" Batman queried.

"I think so." He brushed at the spot and felt something flee his touch. A small bump remained under his skin, promising to itch like crazy later. "...Yeah. It was a mosquito."

"Mm." The man grimaced. "They'll come out now that the temperature is dropping. Are they bothering either of you?" he asked the speedsters.

Flash and KF glanced at one another. "Nope," they answered simultaneously.

"No fair," Robin complained mildly.

"It's their metabolisms," his mentor explained. "If I had more skin exposed the insects would be targeting me, too. The smoke from the fire will help some, but..." He looked around the clearing, seemingly searching for something. "Here. Follow me. There's something else you can do to make them leave you alone."

"Do you have special bat-repellant or something?" KF giggled.

"Huh-uh," Robin replied. "Not for mosquitoes, at least."

"We have it," Batman corrected. "It just isn't part of our standard equipment. It's designed for tropical missions where malaria and other diseases are a major concern."

"...Kinda wish we'd brought it anyway."

"It's not necessary. There's another solution." With that he walked into the swiftly-darkening woods, leaving the boy to scramble after him. They traversed the narrow strip of forest between their camp and the water and stepped out onto a trace of brown sand. "...Over there."

He walked as far as he could before the bank ran out beneath his feet. When trees blocked his path, he stopped. "Do you want me to go back in the woods, or...?"

"No. This is what we're looking for." Batman crouched, his gauntleted fingers dancing across the small white flowers growing on the fringe of the open area. "This is yarrow. Note the fuzz on the stems; there are other plants that look similar to this that are poisonous. It's important that you remember the difference."

"Yarrow?" Robin peered at it in the semi-darkness. "Oh, hey, I think I've seen that before! Tanti-" He broke off. "...Sorry. Civilian stuff."

The man didn't respond for a second. "What did she use it for?" he inquired finally.

"Um...she made tea out of it sometimes." For mom, he swallowed. "And...I remember once she was watching me and I skinned my knee really bad. It was bleeding kind of a lot, so she put something on it. I think it was yarrow. I don't know, though; it's been, um...a while."

"Hmm...that fits some of its more common uses. What we'll be using it for tonight, however, is insect repellant." He began to strip leaves from the spindly plants, and after a moment Robin followed suit. "...Now grind them up in your hands."

"Eww...it's all sticky," he wrinkled his nose as small pieces of greenery clung to his fingers.

"How can you feel that through your gloves?"

"I can just tell, that's all. Can't you?"

"Yes. But if you think that's gross, you won't like the next step."

He hesitated. "...What is it?"

"Spit on it."

His jaw dropped. "You want me to spit on myself? What would...you know who...say?"

"He'd say that it's better to spit into your hands and make bug repellant than to come home covered in bites."

"...Okay, yeah, I can see that. So...spit?"

"Yes, Robin. Spit." To drive the point home, the man lobbed a ball of saliva into his own palm. "...You know how to spit properly, right?"

"Yeah. I'm just not normally allowed to." His mother had had a cow when she'd learned what her husband had taught him to do, he recalled, and had instantly forbidden the action. The moratorium on spitting had continued when he'd come to the Manor, and now half a lifetime of restriction held him back. After a moment's thought, he shrugged. It wasn't as if Alfred was there to see him hock on himself, and technically he was just following orders. As for his mother...well, it was best not to think about what her reaction would have been. Giving in, he spat.

"Now rub it all together until it's mixed, then smear it everywhere that isn't covered by your costume. Don't get it in your eyes or your mouth."

A light spicy odor met his nose as he raised the paste to his face. "Wow. This stuff smells kind of nice."

"Not to the mosquitoes."

"Is that why it keeps them away?"

"Yes. There is a chemical in the plant that repels them."

"So...why did we have to spit? I'm not complaining or anything, but it's kind of weird."

"The additional moisture strengthens the smell of the plant and makes it adhere to your skin better."

"Oh. That makes sense." Finished swiping the smelly stuff on himself, he scratched at the bite behind his jaw. "All done!"

"Good." Batman, having already completed his own application, looked down at their hands. "...We'll wash the rest of this off before we eat."

"Wait, we're allowed to spit out here but we still have to wash our hands for dinner?" Robin joked.

"Yes." A faint smirk appeared. "Your point is taken, but even if I was certain that it's safe for children to ingest yarrow you have no complaints that would make it necessary. So wash your hands."

"Okay," he agreed. Moving to the creek, they bent down and scrubbed the pads of their gloves with wet sand. "...Oh, hey!"

"What?" Batman tensed beside him as if the exclamation had come while they were on patrol.

"It's not an emergency," Robin assured him quickly, "it's just that we forgot to get water for camp. Should we take some back with us, do you think?"

"What do you think?"

"Um..." It felt like a trick question, but he couldn't figure out why. "Well, we have to have water, so...yes? Although I guess it's just right here," he allowed. "We could just come get it when we need it."

"You're forgetting something."

He was forgetting something, he realized all of a sudden. "Crap, it's not safe, is it? The water? It could be full of bacteria and stuff. I remember reading that now."

"Correct. Did you read about how to kill the bacteria?"

"I did, but..." But that only brought up other problems. Everything he'd studied over the past few days had stated that the best way to purify water was to boil it or add certain chemicals. He knew that they didn't carry the right agents in their belts, though, and he certainly didn't walk around with a pot bouncing on his hip. There had been something about using a tarp and the sun, but there was no room for plastic sheeting in his usual kit, either. "...I don't think I have any way to do it," he confessed. "If we had pieces of the plane we could make something, but-"

"But the plane went over a cliff, so that's not an option."

"Right. Crud, how are we supposed to drink anything without getting sick?!" Thinking of something he'd seen a man with a funny name talk about on television, he shuddered. "...I really don't want to drink my own pee, Batman," he pleaded.

"I...don't think that will be necessary this weekend, Robin," his mentor said, sounding disturbed. "I'm not saying that you'll never be in a situation where that is your only option, but you'll know if and when that time comes. There's no need to drill beforehand."

There was something in his voice that made the boy suspect there was a story to be told. "Have you ever...you know? Had to?"

"I was made to practice that particular...skill. The unpleasantness of that experience is why we'll be focusing on other options during this trip."

"...Eww." Drawing on what little he knew of Batman's training, he took a guess as to whose idea that had been. "...Ra's is mean. I already knew that, obviously, but still...yuck. It was him that made you do it, right?"

"Correct. It's good to know that you can do something if you absolutely must – drinking urine included – but I don't think it's necessary for you to have prior experience with that kind of a last resort so long as you are aware that it is a final option."

"Thank you," Robin said with a deep sense of gratitude. "I'm sure KF would say thank you, too, because that's gross."

"...Yes, yes it is. On the note of your friend," the man straightened, "he's likely started complaining of hunger again in our absence. Are you ready to eat?"

"Um...are you giving us food? Because we don't have any of our own." He'd meant to ask earlier, but he'd gotten so caught up in crafting their willow skewers and building the fire that he'd spaced it.

"For tonight, yes. Tomorrow you'll be gathering your own meals, but I was...instructed...to ensure that you were well-fed this evening."

The boy grinned. Good old Alfred. He knew that Batman might very well have made them go hungry as part of the simulation had the butler not intervened. I'll have to give him an extra hug when we get home. "Okay. But what about the water? We never figured that out."

"I want you to sleep on that and see if you come up with anything."

"But...I'm kind of thirsty now." He hadn't noticed before how his tongue was beginning to stick to the roof of his mouth, but once he became aware of it he could barely focus on anything else.

"I have something for you to drink with your dinner. That should hold you through morning."

"Hooray!" Popping up from his crouch, he began to skip back towards the trees. "C'mon, let's eat!"

"Wait."

He slid to a stop. "...Huh?"

The last of the light had gone out of the day while they were talking, and Batman was little more than a caped shadow as he drew near. "Robin..."

He shuffled around to face him more directly. "What is it, Batman?" he asked, concerned. "You sound kind of sad. What's wrong?"

"...I just want to make sure that you're enjoying your training."

"Of course I am! It's really neat," he grinned.

"You aren't upset about anything that's happened today?"

"Um..." The fact that his parents kept coming up in his head wasn't much fun, but even if he could have safely talked about that here he probably wouldn't have. It was better to leave things until they were home, where he could spill everything at once, cry if he wanted to, and then let Bruce cheer him up. Batman wouldn't cuddle, he knew, and on top of that the man might be disappointed at his failure to keep his civilian life separate from his mask. I already almost cried on the plane, and then I mentioned Tanti, too, he frowned. I know he's not mad at me for not getting everything right, but I don't want to make him mad, either, so...I can wait. I can try, at least. "I'm okay. Honest."

"Mm...well, if you're certain."

"I am." He had to be strong, he told himself; this was supposed to be a survival situation, after all.

"...Good. Let's return to camp, then. We have an early day tomorrow; we need to eat and go to bed."

"Okay." The hand that had guided him earlier landed between his shoulder blades again, urging him towards the faint glow that gave away the fire beyond the foliage. "I'm excited for tomorrow," he shared. "Like, super excited. Get it?"

"I get it," Batman replied without laughing. "I'm looking forward to our activities as well."

"I'll do better tomorrow, I promise."

"...You didn't do poorly today, Robin."

A happy buoyancy filled him at those words, rising from his toes to the top of his head. I want to hear that every day, he determined as they entered the trees. I'll do good tomorrow. I'll do my very, very best.

I'll make you proud, Batman.