Hey, everybody. I have good news. I have two more chapters already done and will post in about a week. I have one more to write and this fic will be finished! I'm sorry, sincerely sorry, that it has taken so long (seven frickin years) to complete, but life was tuned upside down for quite a while. Thank you, Kanny, for sticking with me and keeping my Batmuse alive. I also want to say that, for reasons I won't state, I've had to change my user id from MyBatBoys to ItzAGoodThing. That's okay. I like the new name. :)

Okay, so here is that next chapter that I've been receiving all the flames about for being so darn late. I hope it doesn't disappoint. I'm pretty happy with it, myself.

Trapped - Chapter 10

The sound of active sparring filled the cave as Alfred walked down the long staircase, carrying a silver platter filled with sandwiches, fruit and chips. He entered the area where his boys were and set the tray down on a table in the corner before walking to a mini fridge and selected various beverages to place on the table next to the tray.

"Awesome. Thanks a million, Alfred." Dick said, walking over to the table while taking the wraps off his knuckles. "Ohmygosh…," he said around a mouthful of sandwich, "...you're a lifesaver."

"Yes. Well, this training session seemed quite intense and I could tell that getting the three of you to stop and come upstairs for a proper supper would be about as easy as herding feral cats into a kiddie pool."

Dick paused and looked at Alfred over his Gatorade, shaking his head as he swallowed, "You've got some strange analogies, man."

Alfred handed Dick a napkin while watching Bruce and Tim spar, "They've gotten stranger over the years; I blame the three of you."

Dick shrugged, "Can't really argue with that."

The two men watched the sparring match for a few minutes. Alfred was the first to break their silence with a nod after Tim landed a perfect roundhouse kick to the back of Bruce's shoulders, "Master Timothy certainly is holding his own these last couple of weeks."

Dick leaned against the table as he opened a bag of corn chips and nodded, "Yeah, kid's real close to suiting up for real." Dick chewed for a couple seconds, then shrugged, "Well, in my opinion, anyway."

"Yes, that day is rapidly approaching indeed."

Dick took another drink and watched his brother spar against Bruce and thought back over the last eight months since Bruce agreed to begin to retrain Tim physically into the role as Robin.

The first three months had been dedicated solely to rebuilding Tim's muscle mass and endurance, with a few light sparring matches. Dick remembered how the three of them were blown away by what seemed to come back naturally to Tim. Sure, you can mark some of his hits and blocks to muscle memory, but they could also see a lot of strategy to his choices during those matches.

Bruce decided to challenge Tim and really step up the training by occasionally skipping combat levels without notice. There had been setbacks, things that he'd lost and had to relearn, sprains, cuts, bruised ribs, and the occasional fit of frustration, but all things and circumstances considered, Tim soared through those past eight months.

There was still the fact that Tim continued to using sign language to communicate instead of speaking, but that wasn't really an issue when it came to going back out in the field. When Cass first started as Batgirl, she didn't speak either and she was a valuable part of their team and kicked much ass.

Tim still had a little way to go before he was ready to rejoin Bruce and Dick on patrol, but that day was rapidly approaching and Tim knew it too. Over the last few weeks, he'd been telling Bruce he felt he was ready to go and, even if it meant he wasn't allowed to participate in the usual festivities, he just wanted to go.

Dick could see the itch Tim felt to go out there and get his feet wet again and while he and Bruce disagreed on whether or not any harm would come from Tim tagging along, Dick didn't push it. He'd given his word that Bruce would ultimately be the one to give that green light. He made sure to voice any disagreements about Tim's progress and/or training where they wouldn't be overheard. Bruce was driving this bus and Dick didn't want Tim to get an impression that anyone but Bruce would be the one to make that decision.

Pushing himself off the table, Dick tossed out his trash and walked over to the edge of mats next to Alfred and watched. He could see Tim was beginning to form his blocks with a bit of hesitation. He knew his brother was getting frustrated with Bruce constantly being a step ahead and wasn't completely focused. He held his tongue until he noticed Tim was about to get a kick to the face face and yelled at him to dive and roll.

The shout distracted Tim and broke his concentration. He fumbled Bruce's kick which, instead of dodging it, ended up catching it in the shoulder. He lost his balance, flailed his arms and tumbled off the balance beam.

Dick winced and walked over to his brother, offering him a hand-up, "That was a pretty good match."

Tim slapped the offered hand away and jumped to his feet with a scowl, "Yeah, until you decided to start shouting." Tim signed.

"Hey. Distractions are part of the game out there."

Tim huffed, "I saw the kick; I was about to block until you had to open your mouth."

"Excuse me, little bro, for trying to help." Dick returned his brother's scowl, "Next time I'll keep my mouth shut and let you eat Bruce's boot." Dick signed back with attitude.

"Like you can keep your mouth shut..."

"About as well as you block."

"Yeah, we'll see. Dick." Tim said with a screw-you smile, signing Dick's name with one hand and making an obscene gesture with the other.

Dick's face shadowed with anger as he lunged for his brother, "C'mere ya little-!"

Bruce stepped between his boys, placing a hand on Dick's chest to interrupt his advance, and pointed a finger at Tim, "That's enough."

"- punk."

He looked at Dick, "From both of you."

There was silence in the cave for a moment before Dick ended his brother's stare down with a, "whatever..." And walked off toward the showers. Satisfied that the situation had been defused, Bruce looked at Tim. "He's right. You can't blame your lack of concentration on Dick. There will be immeasurable distractions out there in the streets."

Tim, hung his head and rubbed the back of his neck. He knew all this and had also known it wasn't his brother's fault.

Bruce placed a hand to the teen's shoulder, "You need to be able to tune out the things that might take your mind off the fight, because it's that one shout; gunshot; dog...whatever, that can get you or someone else killed."

Tim sighed, "I know, I know..."

Bruce smacked him on the back, "Good. That's enough for tonight."

Tim nodded and trudged off, snagging a sandwich and a drink on his way to the showers.

Bruce watched Tim walk off, folded his arms across his chest and exhaled deeply through his nose.

"The lad is close."

Bruce nodded at Alfred's statement. "Very close. He can taste it and its frustrating him."

"Then one must ask the question: Is making him wait any longer only going to do more harm than good with his training?"

Bruce sighed, running a hand down his face. "...I know."

Alfred nodded and gave his charge a pat to the arm before leaving him with his thoughts.

A few hours later Tim walked up the stairs from the cave and made his way into the living room and just stood there for a moment, looking around, and then wandered down the hallway until his nose led him into the kitchen. He swung the door open and walked over to one of the stools, took a seat and folded his arms on the counter before plopping his chin down.

"I take it Master Bruce has gone out for the evening?" Alfred asked without looking up from the brownies he was dusting with powdered sugar.

"Mmhmm."

"I see. And did you inquire about joining him?" Alfred asked and then looked at the teen when he snorted with disgust.

Tim sat up, "After what happened a few hours ago? You're kidding, right?"

Alfred put down the sifter and reached for a long bread knife, "I am not. What happened today was nothing that hasn't happened to all of you from time to time; even under peak performance."

"He would have said: No."

Alfred raised an eyebrow, "Have you exchanged speaking for mind-reading?"

Tim fixed a mock glare on the older gentleman, "It doesn't take a mind-reader to know what his answer would have been."

Alfred sighed, "Perhaps," and began to wash the few dishes in the sink.

Tim sat there and watched him for a moment before he got up and grabbed a towel from the drawer and began to dry and put away the dishes. They worked in silence for most of the chore until Tim tapped Alfred's shoulder, "Where's Dick?"

"In the garage; I believe he's tinkering with his motorcycle." Alfred noticed how Tim continued to dry the same dish for some time. "Have you two spoken since earlier?"

Tim shook his head and turned to put the dish on a stack with others.

Alfred rinsed off a bundle of silverware, "It's been quite a while since the two of you had such a quarrel."

Tim leaned against the corner of the counter, looked at the door to the garage and then to Alfred and shrugged one shoulder.

Nodding, Alfred took the towel from Tim, dried his hands and then selected one of the clean plates and placed a few of the warm brownies on it. "Then, perhaps a peace offering is in order."

Tim looked at the plate Alfred offered him and smirked as he took it, "Thanks."

Dick adjusted the mechanic's light he had clipped to the side mirror of his bike, selected a wrench and began to remove a spark plug. He heard the door to the kitchen open and looked up briefly as Tim walked out and then returned his focus on what he was doing. He removed the last plug, sat down on the floor next to the others and picked up the can of carburetor cleaner. Out of the side of his eye he saw Tim's sneakers stop next to his front tire. He gave the plug a couple sprays then picked up an old toothbrush and began to clean the connector and was about to move onto the threads when Tim gave his front tire a light kick.

"Hey! Careful." Dick looked up and patted the side of his bike, "She's got feelings, ya know."

Tim rolled his eyes and walked around to where his brother sat, tossed him a clean rag, then sat on the floor and placed the plate of brownies down.

Dick wiped his hands off and took a brownie, "You made me brownies? Aww, that's sweet."

"Yeah; sure." Tim took one for himself.

Dick examined his brownie as he chewed, "Wow, that's amazing! They taste exactly like Alfred's." Dick said with faux astonishment.

Tim shrugged, "What can I say, I'm that good."

"Yeah, but, Alfred wouldn't have forgotten the milk." Dick said as he got up and opened the fridge in the garage and tossed his brother a bottle of chocolate milk then grabbed himself one too.

The two boys sat in silence for a bit and finished their snack. When Dick began cleaning the rest of the plugs, Tim picked one up and began to help. After a moment he touched Dick's arm, "Look… about earlier-"

Dick shook his head, "Don't worry about it."

"No. I…" Tim exhaled, "I was already worked up and frustrated and…, I took it out on you."

Dick grinned, "Yeah. I know," He grabbed the back of his brother's neck and gave it a squeeze, "Don't sweat it, bro. We've all been a dick to each other before," he put emphasis the word and laughed when Tim punched him in the shoulder, "It won't be the last time. Trust me."

Satisfied that things were cool between them again, Tim worked with his brother for a little while longer, putting the spark plugs back in and by time Dick was connecting the wires, he'd made a decision. As they finished putting away the tools and washed their hands at the garage sink Tim caught the towel Dick tossed him, dried his hands and waited for eye contact.

Dick felt Tim's gaze on him and slowed his hand drying, "What?"

Tim looked out the open garage door, hesitating for a moment, and then put his towel down, "I have to tell you something."

Dick frowned, not liking the conflicted look on Tim's face, and leaned against the cabinet behind him, "O-kay… tell me."

Tim looked his brother square in face with a stone-serious expression and signed, "I'm going out tonight."

"Out...?" Dick tilted his head forward, trying to draw out more information before asking, "Out where?"

Tim sighed, "Out… out."

"Um, no you're not." Dick huffed and tossed his towel in a laundry bin and pointed at his brother. "Are you out of your mind? Do you know what Bruce would do to you-to us-when he found out; and you know he'll find out. He always finds out."

"Ssshhh! Keep it down," Tim waved frantically, "Sonic-hearing Granddad just beyond that door."

Dick shook his head and walked over to his brother and grabbed him by the shoulders. "Tim. Listen to me. I know you're dying to get back out there and I completely understand the frustration you're feeling. But it's not a smart move. You have to hold on just a little longer."

Tim shrugged off his brother's hands and walked to the edge of the garage, then turned back toward him. "Look. I'm not asking you to go with me. I'm not asking you to cover for me. And, I'm not asking for your blessing. I'm telling you. I am going out tonight. I have to."

Dick rubbed the back of his neck and groaned as he looked up at the ceiling and turned away from the desperation rolling off his brother in waves.

Tim walked back around Dick and snapped his fingers in front of his face, demanding his attention. "I can't concentrate anymore- can't focus. I… I keep thinking of taking off for awhile and staying with the Titans just to get some freedom and get some independence back. The walls are starting to close in on me here and I keep having these doubts about if I'll ever be good enough to be Robin again and, if I don't break out and use some of the skills I'm killing myself over day after day... I'm going to seriously lose it!"

"Alright, alright… calm down," Dick saw tears of frustration begin to glisten in his brother's eyes and grabbed his shoulder, giving it a squeeze, "Just… calm down and let me think a minute." he squeezed Tim's shoulder again and patted his other arm a couple of times, "Okay?"

Tim took in a deep breath and nodded.

Dick walked out of the garage, onto the driveway and breathed in a deep breath of the night air. He stood there with hands on hips and looked up at the clear, star-filled sky. He completely understood where Tim was coming from and, frankly, had seen this on the horizon for a while now. He rubbed a hand over his face as he exhaled and contemplated his options. Tim was dead serious. He was crying out for help and if Dick didn't answer him, he'd bolt and find it somewhere else. That worried him. He knew the Titans would take good care of his brother, but he also knew they weren't nearly as aware of the things that Tim still struggled with and how best to help him when he needed it.

If he told Bruce, Bruce would freak and basically lock Tim up, throw away the key and the kid would be lucky if he could patrol before Christmas. Which in turn Tim would sneak away at his first opportunity and be gone.

Dick knew if they went to Alfred, even though Dick knows Alfred is in agreement with him that Tim's ready to go on a short patrol with light action, he also knows Alfred's not to the point where he'd go against Bruce's wishes and conspire with them on this.

No. If Dick agreed to this, they'd have to leave Alfred out of the loop, if for anything else, to keep him from catching hell from Bruce as well. Because, Bruce will find out. Shit. Dick ran his hands through his hair. He was between a rock and a hard place and looking over at his brother again, knew he didn't have much of an option.

He waved Tim over to him and grabbed his shoulders, looking intensely into his eyes, "If we do this, we do it my way. My rules. You give me a hard time on anything and I will radio Batman to pick you up and haul your ass back home, even knowing full well that he'll kill me later. Probably multiple times."

Dick paused.

Tim nodded earnestly.

Dick continued to keep strong eye contact. "You do understand that he'll kill you, too. Right? I mean, imagine the maddest you've ever seen him and multiply that by about fifty. That mad. He'll also push back your debut back into the world of crime fighting. Are you sure it's all worth it. Are you sure it's all going to pay off?"

Tim didn't hesitate, "Yes. I know. I don't care. I'm suffocating here. I have to get out- even for just one night. I have to get back out there and confirm I can even jump off of a roof again."

Dick sighed. He knew he'd already resigned to what he knew Tim needed the minute he read the desperation in his eyes. "Alright. So what now? What do you want to tell Alfred? Because, this is your dance, man. I'll go with you and look out for you, but I not going to go in there and lie to Alfred about it."

"I know. I wasn't going to ask you to. I'm going to tell him we're going to take off and catch a late movie." Tim looked at his watch, "Rocky Horror Picture Show is starting in forty minutes."

"And what about our gear? Can't just sneak into the cave and grab our stuff, he'll be going down there real soon."

Tim winked and opened a cabinet door and tossed Dick a backpack.

Dick caught the pack and gave his brother a frown, "All ready to split, huh?" and started rifling through the bag's contents then looked up sharply, "My suit's in here already? What if I'd said no? You were going to jump ship AND steal my stuff?"

Tim shrugged, "I had a hunch."

Dick simply shook his head. "If we're gonna do this, let's do it." He waved a hand toward the kitchen door, "Go on and spin your web of lies to the man that makes us brownies and be done with it."

Tim frowned, "I don't like lying to him either, you know."

"Yeah, bro. I know." Dick rubbed his brow, "Unfortunately, I've been there before, too. I know. Just... get it done and let's go."