For the umpteenth time since he was returned to his past, Bruce shot Dick a look of disbelief and dread while the boy dressed in his Robin suit.
Short sleeves. Short pants. Pixie boots. The vest was the only part of the original Robin costume that gave any kind of – if insufficient – protection; made of soft leather and lined with a layer of the best aramid fibres available at the time.
What had they been thinking, when they let the boy out in Gotham dressed like that; to fight metas and lunatics and thugs by the dozen, and armed with nothing but his acrobatics, skill and wit?
"It's high time to update your costume, Dick. That suit does not provide enough protection," he said, lifting his cowl and cape from its holder.
Not that the Batsuit of this time was much better, he had to admit. He missed the reassuring heaviness over his body, the stiff boots and the dull swoosh of the cape. Sometimes he had an unpleasant feeling of being half naked.
"It's a leotard, Bruce; how many times do I have to tell you!"
"I don't care what you call it. It doesn't even protect your knees from scrapes."
"Acrobats use leotards, Batman. Agility is my strength – you're the one who taught me that."
"Nevertheless. The Robin suit needs to cover more of you and be made of stronger material. It's not safe for you to go out in that."
"Something heavier and less flexible would impede my fighting style. How is that going to keep me safer?"
Most people thought that Dick Grayson was a sweet, kind and easygoing kid – but they had never encountered his stubborn streak, Bruce thought darkly. The boy would stop at nothing to get his own way. He would use charm, humour, manipulation, denial, deflection or downright refuse to back down.
Well, two could play that game, he decided. He was going to ask Alfred to help him make a new suit with long sleeves and legs and tougher material over the torso; something along the line of what he would dress Tim in… had dressed Tim in? Only with even more protection. Dick would be presented with his new suit as a fait accompli, never mind what it might do to the timeline. When Deathstroke the Terminator turned up in a few years time, the youngster would at least have a decent body armour to help him get through confrontations with the mercenary, who was far above his weight class even as an adult.
He never got the chance to come up with a fitting comeback to end the argument, however, since the intercom buzzed.
"Pardon, sir, but the Bat-Signal is on. It would seem the police commissioner is eager to see you," Alfred's voice came over the loudspeaker.
Batman made an affirmative noise, adding "Thank you, Alfred" as an afterthought, before heading out to the Batmobile with Robin at his heels.
"We're not finished with this discussion," he warned as they climbed into the car.
"Good to see you, Batman," commissioner Gordon greeted when he looked up from his paperwork and noticed the two vigilantes standing inside the window. "Not that it wasn't a pleasure to get help from Superman, but I'm glad you're back on your feet again."
The man he'd spoken to inclined his head in reply, but the more talkative of the duo gave the police officer a wide grin.
"Hi, commissioner. The original Dynamic Duo is back in business."
Jim Gordon's mouth twitched in a smile; then he turned to a pile of folders on his desk, starting to sort through them.
"I'm glad you could stop by. I've got a case we could use some help with."
"Of course, commissioner."
"... It's not as dramatic as most of your cases, but it's been plaguing us for months, and we're not making any progress. It's a hot car racket; the gang steals luxury cars on order, fixes them up and sells them under the pretence that they are almost new."
"Owned by a little old lady who only drove to church on Sundays," Robin quipped.
"We've closed some of the dealers, but there are always more. I'm sure the car dealers don't know any details – oh, they're bound to know there's something shady going on, but all they have is a contact, and so far we haven't been able to get anywhere from there."
It all sounded familiar to Batman – but he got a nagging feeling of worry as if this wasn't a case where he should let things run their due course. He needed to go over what he remembered and find a way around whatever the problem was.
"Give me all the information you've got, commissioner," was all he said.
Usually, he enjoyed his little talks with Jim Gordon and quite often he would stay a while to go through the information and perhaps drop a hint or two. But he'd be better off not talking about the case until he could sort out what he remembered.
"I'll get back to you when I have something to report," Batman said when he had got the information. He swiftly vanished out through the window and heard Robin say "See you, commissioner" before following him.
He silently lead the way back to the Batmobile and once there beckoned the boy to get in. He started the car, randomly choosing a route through the city.
"Are we going to check up on some car dealers straight away, Batman?"
"Give me a moment, Robin, I need to think something over."
The boy, obviously puzzled by Batman's unexpected hesitation, did his best to leave his mentor in peace. If they had been in the cave or on a roof, he would no doubt have done hand-stands on top of the computer or the gargoyles and back-flipped all over the place. Being stuck in the Batmobile, the boy couldn't do more than drum his fingers and fiddle with the radio receiver.
The problem was that Batman by now could recall the case – some of it quite vividly. He – as Bruce Wayne – had actually been stabbed in his arm for his troubles, but that was the least of his worries. What made him hesitate was the memory of how Robin, trying to find a lead to the brains of the hot car ring, would sneak out – had sneaked out – to take the place of a young man that was being coerced into trying to kill the District Attorney. He would end up a prisoner of the hot car ring together with the young man's sister, a dance performer.
The two of them had been left tied up over an oil pit filled with gasoline and a burning candle, to perish when the garage blew up – and the gang was long gone. If the girl, Juanita, hadn't managed to snuff out the fire by kicking her shoe at the candle at Robin's request, the plan would have succeeded. And Robin's quick thinking in putting the number plate of a stolen car on the gang's getaway car had led to most of them being caught by the police.
Batman hadn't seen the scene himself since he hadn't known where Robin was – the boy had left without speaking to his mentor about the plan and hadn't thought to bring the tracking device from his utility belt. Once again, Batman got temporarily sidetracked with brooding over his lack of foresight to hide trackers in the boy's underwear, for all those times when Dick didn't bring any of his Robin equipment.
While the two youngsters narrowly escaped death, he himself had been stuck worrying in Commissioner Gordon's office. But he had never had any problem visualising the scene, neither when he first heard of it Juanita's fortuitous hit, nor right now.
It took Batman only moments to decide that he would do everything he could to prevent the past he remembered from repeating itself. The fear of what could happen – the girl might miss when she kicked her shoe or Robin could be killed by the gang in another way – by far outweighed his hope that he could return to a future that looked exactly as it should.
He turned the Batmobile towards the manor, set on keeping Robin away from the case.
All he had to do was to pretend that he found the racketeers some other way. Since he remembered most of what had happened and where, it should be a piece of cake to track down the gang. He did not doubt his ability to put together a solid case and give to the commissioner; it wasn't like he generally disclosed the details of how he worked to the police, anyway. He would not, however, be able to fool Robin if the boy went with him.
The problem was how he was going to keep Robin far away from the case. When it came to field work, Robin wasn't generally disobedient as such – but he had a creative way of circumventing orders, so he didn't really have to go against them. The time when Dick had obeyed the order not to put on the Robin uniform for 30 days but used the suit itself to trick the Green Cowl gang that Robin was there, stood out in his memory.
Batman's musings were interrupted by the very person around who was occupying his thoughts; the boy had finally lost his patience.
"Why are we heading home already? Aren't we going to patrol or look for any leads about the commissioner's hot car racket?"
"I believe it will be more efficient to start by researching the Batcomputer."
"And we're not going on patrol first? Do you really think a gang of car thieves are that important…?"
Since he couldn't very well tell the boy that this particular gang of car thieves were a threat to the District Attorney's life, Batman searched for a reasonable excuse to make the case a priority. Perhaps he should have waited until after a regular patrol to avoid raising awkward questions, but it would seem even more out of character to change his mind, halfway back to the cave.
He felt like harrumphing – that's what he would have done in his own time and his newer Robins were accustomed to it and would probably leave him to his thoughts. Unfortunately, this Robin would keep asking questions.
"Commissioner Gordon asked for our help; that's a good enough reason for me, Robin."
Batman congratulated himself on the reply – Dick was all about helping people, he wouldn't question that. But the tricky part was still to come; to leave Robin behind. He decided it would be easier to try to distract him from the case altogether, rather than grounding him when it was time to go out in the field.
When they had arrived back at the cave, Batman turned to the boy.
"I can research this case without you, Robin. You may use the gym if you want to, or you can go upstairs and take the evening off."
He got the message that he could have executed his diversion better – immediately, loud and clear. The boy stiffened, tore off his mask and turned to face him. He stared at Batman, his eyes first wide and then narrowing, and finally exclaimed, "Why?"
"...I expect I will be working here for several hours; there is no reason for you to be stuck here too."
"Usually, you'd want me to stick around, so I don't get the idea that being Robin is just about flipping over rooftops and getting into fights. And I can't remember the last time you wanted to start a case on the computer instead of looking around and try to get some people to talk. What makes this case so special?"
You'll be a second away from a horrible death, and I can't take that risk, Batman wanted to say. Instead, he tried, "I think you need a rest from this, Dick. You worked the case with Clark for several days, after all. And we had a busy night yesterday. I'd prefer it if you spent a day or two away from the cave."
Dick's eyes narrowed even more, and he clenched his teeth.
"Fine! If you don't want me around, I'll leave you in peace… I'll get out of here and go see my friends."
"Friends…?"
"Yeah, you know. Friends. Some of us have them. You might like it, if you tried."
"…Remind me."
"Gosh, Bruce, you're acting weirder each day! Wally and Roy and Garth and Donna, of course. I showed you the place we hang out sometimes. I'll make some calls, and I'll be out of your hair!"
Roy Harper – that's a role model for you, Bruce thought moodily to himself. Already flirting with Wonder Girl, and in a few years, he would be stuck with drug problems. God, there were so many people whom he knew would get hurt or even die. Should he talk to Ollie and make him understand what was needed to keep Roy from addiction – or should he stop Dick from seeing the other boy?
That's one idea he shut down immediately. Dick wouldn't meekly accept that Bruce could dictate whom he was friends with. And in the end, surely both Roy and Dick benefited from their friendship, however difficult the situation sometimes would be.
All things considered, Robin hanging out with the future Teen Titans was preferable to having him within a mile of a garage with a petrol-filled oil pit and a burning candle, Batman decided.
"Seeing your friends a good idea, tomorrow. Alfred will pack something to eat; you can stay all day if you want to."
The answer obviously surprised the boy; his mood seemed to flicker between anger and anticipation.
"… Right…" he eventually said, still determined to sulk.
"I don't want you to be alone there, though. If none of them can come, ask if you can visit with them instead."
The conversation was definitely not leading where Dick had expected – he looked downright confused. Fair enough, Bruce thought, he almost surprised himself; but better confused than tied up in an exploding garage.
"And you will not go out as Robin, except for going there and home. I don't care if you get a call for help from the General Secretary of the United Nations or if the Penguin takes over Manhattan; you will not go out as Robin without my approval."
"..."
"Is that clear?"
"... Yes...!"
"And if you intend to go out with your friends in civilian clothes, you must check in with my first."
"What the... Bruce! What is it you're not telling me?"
"..."
"Don't give me that stonewall face. Even you wouldn't be this paranoid if there weren't something up!"
"... I'm... concerned, that is all. I want to know where you are. Now, are you going to comply, or do you prefer to stay in the manor?"
"Fine! Okay! Why don't you just chip me like a pet and have it over with?" Dick snapped, before turning on his heel and storming to change from his Robin outfit.
It hadn't exactly gone well; Bruce had to admit to himself. Perhaps he was just too different from his younger self to manage to keep things as they once were. He was already changing history in different ways; as he remembered it, Dick hadn't lost his temper with him like this for at least a couple of years.
He sighed and sat down in front of the computer console, deciding to concentrate on solving the hot car racket to avoid thinking about how his actions would affect his future relationship with the first Robin.
The case that Batman had Robin sit out is "An Affair of Death", writer Al Schwartz. Batman dailies November 26, 1945, to February 9, 1946.
Also mentioned: "The Plainclothes Robin", by David Vern. Star Spangled Comics # 112.
And Dick's feelings about heavy suits are made quite clear when he is new as Batman, in Batman # 688.
Panels from all three can be found on my Tumblr, /blog/northoftheroad