The first clue I got that something was wrong was the fact that Tim didn't text fifteen times to confirm we were meeting up. He always did that. I guess he just liked to make sure things were well planned, which I didn't mind. It was kinda funny and, after meeting three times, I was used to it. The texts didn't come though, not even one, in the two days leading up to our scheduled training session. Then, when the training session arrived and he never showed up, I got really concerned. I waited at my personal gym for an hour but he never arrived. I didn't like the idea of him riding the bus all the way from Gotham to Blϋdhaven by himself but my time was super limited and this was the only place we could meet besides the cave. During the hour I waited, I called, texted and even sent him an email. Not a peep.

Really worried now, I drove all the way to Gotham as soon as I had time to look for him. I started at his house but found it empty, the lights off and the doors locked. I went to the bus station next and snuck in, looking at their records. Tim never even bought a ticket. If he had disappeared, it hadn't been on his way to see me. I called his school next, pretending to be someone who wanted to give him an award, kind of stupid but the best I could come up with on short notice. No one had seen him for a week, not that the people at the school seemed to find that alarming. Apparently, Jack would take Tim on business trips sometimes, or at least he used to, and once or twice he had forgotten to call. Everyone assumed something like that had occurred. I was not nearly so convinced.

Not sure what else to do, I motored up to Wayne manor. I found Alfred sweeping the front steps. He waved when he saw me. "Master Dick, it is awfully good to see you," he said, hugging me tightly.

"It's good to see you too Alf," I agreed, "hey, has Tim been over here recently." Alfred's face darkened.

"The last I saw him was Sunday. I am not sure what Master Bruce said to him but he left here in a great rush and has not been back since."

"Well, we were supposed to meet up today and he never showed. I can't find anyone who's seen him all week." Alfred's face screwed with concern.

"You do not think something has happened to him, do you?" he asked.

"I don't know," I replied, "I need to talk to Bruce."

"Master Dick, you…Master Bruce is not well right now."

"What do you mean, not well?" I asked. Alfred pursed his lips, obviously not quite sure what to say and how to say it.

"Well, anyway, Master Tim is more important. Master Bruce is in his study, go and see him there." I nodded, feeling trepidation. Alfred didn't often bother to warn me about Bruce's moods. I knew them almost as well as he did by now. If he was concerned…I made my way to the study and immediately noticed it was dark. I thought for a few moments that he wasn't in there but, when I pushed the door open, I saw a single lamp shining in the darkness, illuminating the glass case where Jason's costume was kept. Bruce sat in an armchair facing it and, in the languid light, his eyes looked dull and glassy.

"Go away Dick," he said softly. Jason's costume caused me to pause. It was usually down in a dark corner of the cave, a corner I avoided. Now, with it out in the open, it felt like there was a ghost in the room and I didn't want to get too close but I took a deep breath and approached. Beside Bruce, a bottle of whisky sat but I knew he hadn't had any. He might have been tempted to drink but he never did. Batman thrived on pain and wouldn't try to dull it, no matter how much he wanted to.

"Bruce, Tim's missing, we have to find him."

"He's not our concern," Bruce murmured, eyes fixed on the case. It was like it had hypnotized him.

"Yes, he is," I countered, getting between him and the costume, "now get up, we have to find him."

"Go and find him yourself," Bruce grunted. He wouldn't meet my gaze, it was like he was looking right through me.

"This is not a time to wallow in your guilt," I said, "I need to find Tim and I need your help. Alfred said you said something to him and he left in a hurry."

"I told him to leave," Bruce murmured wistfully, "I told him to leave and never come back." I clinched and unclinched my fists, wanting to punch him but knowing that wouldn't be productive.

"Why would you say that to him?" For the first time, Bruce's eyes met mine and there was a spark of reproach in them.

"Because I was growing…fond of him and I can't…I can't do that again. I can't care about anyone anymore."

"Well, you're stuck there," I growled, "because you care about me and Alfred."

"You both can't be helped," Bruce replied, his voice meandering and almost dreamy, "but he could. He won't come back now, not after what I said to him."

"HE IS NOT JASON!" I roared, fed up with him now. "HE IS NOT JASON, I AM NOT JASON, ALFRED IS NOT JASON! YOU CAN'T STOP PUSHING PEOPLE AWAY JUST BECAUSE YOU'RE AFRAID THEY'LL END UP LIKE JASON!" That got a rise out of him. I don't know if it was the yelling or the fact that I said Jason's name so many times, a name no one dared say in front of him, not even Alfred. He got up out of his chair and shoved me backwards as hard as he could. I collided with the case that held Jason's costume, knocking it over. It crashed onto the ground, shattering into a million pieces and I fell among them.

"YOU DON'T GET TO TALK TO ME LIKE THAT. YOU DON'T GET TO SAY WHAT I CAN AND CAN'T DO! I DIED THAT DAY!"

"Bruce, I loved him too, maybe even as much as you did, but this has to stop! I love you so much and I can't watch you do this to yourself anymore. Tim was right! He came to me weeks ago because he was worried about you and the way you were acting. He was sure you were going to get yourself killed and I…didn't listen. I was still so angry with you over what happened but it wasn't your fault and it wasn't mine."

"SO, YOU WOULD BLAME JASON FOR WHAT HAPPENED TO HIM!" Bruce howled, "YOU THINK IT WAS HIS OWN FAULT HE DIED. THAT'S WHAT EVERYONE SAYS, ISN'T IT, THAT HE WAS VIOLENT, THAT HE WAS UNSTABLE, THAT HE ASKED FOR IT! YOU THINK THAT TOO!"

"Of course I don't," I replied, feeling tears start to well up in my eyes, "of course I don't think that. It wasn't his fault either, it wasn't any of our fault. It just happened Bruce, it just fucking happened and now…now we have to find some way to move on." I didn't even feel angry anymore. I had used up the last burst of my anger yelling at him and there was nothing but grief remaining, grief deeper than any I had ever felt. I thought it might crush me. Bruce just looked…lost now. He looked the way I felt, like he had been filling himself up with anger so that there wasn't any room inside of him for grief but now, his last reserves of rage had been tapped. He sunk to his knees in front of me, his eyes wide and frightened and hurt and seeing him that way made me feel frightened too.

"I can't move on," he said softly, "you're wrong, it was my fault. I wasn't there for him. I knew he was going through a lot but I couldn't…be there for him…I couldn't help him and then…then he died. I didn't think any pain would ever match what I felt when my parents passed but this is…so much worse. He depended on me, he thought I was going to take care of him and I…didn't. Over and over in my mind, I keep imagining his last moments, how he was expecting me to come for him and how he felt when he realized I wouldn't make it. He must have been so scared and in so much pain. It's all there, in my brain, all the time. I can't…go on like this Dick, I can't keep living with all this. It's too much for me. I loved him so much."

"And he loved you," I pleaded, crawling out of the glass towards him, "and I know he wouldn't blame you for what happened."

"I made him Robin," Bruce whimpered, "I should have never…have done that. It was selfish. I just…wanted you back and I thought…I thought he could do what you did. I as good as handed him over to the Joker."

"Listen to me Bruce," I said, gripping his arms, "when you got Jason, he was angry and scared and damaged. That wasn't your fault. You tried to help him and you know what…you did. You loved him so much and gave him so much joy while he was with you. I saw that. So many people never get the chance to be loved the way you loved him. You gave him that gift, you have to hold onto that. I know you don't want to go on living but I need you…I need you so much and now, Tim needs you too. Please…please." I almost couldn't see now, the world was blurring behind my tears, but I felt when Bruce grabbed me, dragging me into his arms. He clung to me tightly, breathing like he was drowning with big, unstable gulps of air. He was choking on his sobs now and shaking.

"I miss him so much Dick," he whimpered through his tears, "I just wish I could hold him…just once more."

"I know," I agreed, weeping into his chest, "I miss him too." Moments dragged on into an eternity. I let the grief sweep me up and carry me away like a river. I let it surround me, force its way down into me so that I felt it throughout my body. I could tell by the way Bruce was holding me and the way he was shaking that he was doing that as well, finally allowing the pain to catch up with him. Neither of us said anything for a long time until he spoke in a small, tentative voice.

"I missed you." I came up out of his arms, facing him with tears still streaming down my cheeks and a small smile playing across my face.

"I missed you too." He took my face in his hands and kissed my forehead.

"I'm sorry," he said softly.

"So am I." I saw him looking over my shoulder and turned to see the remains of the case that had held Jason's costume, which was still on the floor. We both stared at it for a few moments, breathing slowly and trying to reclaim our breath.

"Tim helped me…you know," I said softly. I turned back to Bruce. "Telling him stories about Jason, remembering him…it helped a lot. We should…talk about him. We should stop pretending he didn't exist."

"We should," Bruce agreed softly. "What were you…what were you saying about Tim?"

"Shit," I swore, leaping to my feet, "listen, you have to help me, Tim's missing. No one's seen him in like a week. I contacted his school and they said they thought his dad had taken him on a business trip or something but I'm sure he would have told me if he knew he wouldn't be able to see me today." Bruce gave me an annoyed look, getting slowly to his feet.

"I told you, that boy is not our responsibility."

"I put my hands on my hips."

"That's bullshit and you know it. I care about this kid and I know you do too, even if you don't want to admit it. We have to at least verify that he's ok."

"I'm sure he just went with his Dad," Bruce grunted, wiping his face on his sleeve, "but if you insist, I'll call him and confirm."

"I do insist," I insisted, frowning at him. Bruce frowned back and then seized his cell phone, dialing quickly. The phone rang three times before someone answered.

"Helloooooooooo Jackie," Bruce drawled in his Bruciest Bruce Wayne voice, "how are things goooooooing? Well, that is just fabuloso! So, listen, I was bored the other day, poking around the manor, and I found a stash of Dick's old toys. I was wondering if Terry might like them." I gave Bruce an outraged look but he ignored me. "Is the boy home, could I drop them by this afternoon? Perfect, peeeeerfect, well, I will do that then! Looking forward to your report at the end of the week, chao!"

"You had better never give anyone my old toys," I said seriously after Bruce hung up but he ignored me, the slightest amount of concern evident on his face.

"He's not with his father."

"Shit," I swore, "well then, where is he? You told him to go away last week, did you tell him where to go to?" Bruce shook his head and paused for a moment.

"But…"

"What?"

"He was going on about having "solved his case", whatever that means."

"What case?" I asked, "You mean that thing he had in that binder when he first came to me?" Bruce nodded.

"He's been working on it ever since, having me help him with parts of it. When he and I…talked last week, he said he thought he had solved it."

"Do you think he might have done something about it after you ignored him?" Bruce shrugged awkwardly.

"I mean…he didn't seem like the type to take matters into his own hands." I frowned at him.

"Ok, well, if he had…where would he go?"

"I don't…I don't know," Bruce replied, "I wasn't really paying attention to what he was saying."

"You're telling me you spent all this time helping him and you still have no idea what he was investigating," I cried, aghast.

"Well…Yea," Bruce replied defensively, "I helped him with analysis but we never talked about results. I have no idea what he was up to!"

"Well," I said, "then I guess we better get suited up and go to his place." Bruce frowned at me.

"Why?"

"Because, I assume that's where all his evidence and shit is. We have to re-solve the case he just solved so that we can find him."

"Dick," Bruce murmured uncertainly, "I can't…I just…" I put a hand on his shoulder.

"I am not asking you to replace Jason," I said gently, "I know that that's not possible. I don't want to replace him either but this kid needs us. We have to find him." Bruce gave a heavy sigh.

"Alright," he agreed reluctantly, "I guess…I guess let's go."

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"Batman, you gotta see this," I cried, "look! He built a scale model of Wayne manor with toothpicks. Batman look, here's my room!" Batman glanced over my shoulder at the glory that was the painted and carefully measured Wayne manor hidden in Tim's closet. "He is…super obsessed with us, isn't he," I said, straightening up. We were in Tim's room, searching around, or at least, I was. Batman was reading through his notes at his desk, looking ridiculous trying to perch on Tim's tiny chair. I had never been inside the kid's room before and, although I had known he was pretty…into me in a kind of hero-worshiping sort of a way, the ramifications of that had somehow never dawned on me. He had made his whole life about Bruce, Jason and me. In fact, being in this room was probably making Batman pretty uncomfortable.

Since Jason's death, Bruce had systematically gone through and removed every trace of him from the walls of the manor, squirrelling them all away in the attic. In Tim's room, however, we were surrounded by images of the late Robin, both in and out of costume. In some ways, I found that comforting, especially since I knew Jason would have loved it. Having a weird little kid print out a bunch of pictures of him and put them all over his walls was a strange tribute but, in some ways, quite fitting. Jason had made a real impact in his fifteen years, more than some people make in a lifetime. My thoughts now, however, were more on Tim than Jason. "Did you find anything?" I asked, moving back over next to Batman.

"Getting there," the Dark Knight grumbled, "if you would like to help…" I gave him a moody look and took one of the binders, settling on Tim's bed. In this case, the boy's thoroughness might be his undoing. He had documented pretty much everything he had done in the course of his investigation, every lead he had ever pursued, even the ones that didn't pan out. I guess I should have been realistic. It was unlikely Tim would just have a piece of paper with the words, 'I went here, these are the bad guys,' just sitting on his desk waiting for us. "Tim was an…impressive detective," Batman said suddenly, breaking my train of thought. I nodded in agreement.

"He definitely was. He was getting pretty good at the self-defense stuff I was teaching him too. I mean, he was small so I don't know how effective he would have ended up being but still, he was tenacious. Probably could have gotten really good if I'd kept working with him." Batman looked up at me.

"You wanted him to be Robin." I pursed my lips and avoided his gaze, not saying anything. "I would have thought you, of all people, would understand why he couldn't be, why no one ever can be again."

"I do…" I insisted, "I mean…I thought I did but…Do you know why he came to me at the police station a few weeks ago?"

"It was about this case," Batman replied, indicating the binders in front of him.

"Yea, but not just that. He wanted me to go back and be your Robin again. He was worried about you. He thought, with Jason gone, you were taking too many risks, you were too…unbalanced. He wanted me to fix it. I said no because we still weren't exactly…getting along but I think he was right. I think you do need a Robin and…I'll admit, I was kinda grooming Tim for the job." Batman glared at me. "I know, I know, I was probably a little out of line but he just seemed like a really good fit, especially after Jason. He's more involved with the intellectual side of it. He's cautious, he's humble, not one to get in over his head, not a mean bone in his body, I mean he's the exact opposite of Jason and he…needs you."

Batman managed to hold his glare for another minute before his head dropped, his eyes going back into Tim's notes. "Anyway," I continued, "it was just a thought."

"I'm not going to get anyone else killed," Batman said softly, so softly, I almost didn't hear him.

"Who says you have to?" I replied. Silence lapsed between us for a few minutes as Batman and I continued digging through the files when suddenly, Tim's computer screen began to blur and flash. We both stared at it, confused and surprised, as the lights on it flickered twice and then consolidated into the image of a man. He was dressed in an orange and gray costume and mask that covered his entire face so that there were no easily discernable features that might give us a clue as to who he was. He stood silently in front of the camera for a moment and then started to speak.

"Hello Gotham, I am the Fault Ripper." His voice was measured and calm in a chilling sort of way and, when I felt my phone buzz and fished it out of my pocket, I could see the image of the same man there as well. Clearly, he had found a way to broadcast to all capable devices in Gotham, concerning, but not that surprising since Joker had just done that last week. Cyber security in Gotham was pretty shitty. "My demands are simple," the Fault Ripper continued, "I want the Batman. If he does not appear, alone, at the old Boran factory in one hour, I will destroy Gotham…starting with this boy." The camera panned behind him and there, tied and gagged and looking very frightened, was Tim Drake. "Remember Batman, one hour, come alone…" The image disappeared with a pop and Batman and I stared at each other.

"It has to be a trap," I said. Batman nodded.

"I know."

"What did Tim get himself into?" I asked, aghast.

"I think I know that too," Batman replied, indicating a page in one of the boy's binders. "He uncovered a plot to destroy Gotham using a massive earthquake." I stared at him in shock. Batman got up, collecting Tim's binders as he spoke. "There's a deposit of a rare metal under Gotham that would be impossible to mine without destroying the city. Namazu Inc., a mining company, has come up with a plan to destroy the city with an earthquake. Once everyone is either dead or has moved away, they'll be free to buy the land for next to nothing and mine it." I sat back on Tim's bed, my mind spinning.

"But…why an earthquake?"

"It makes perfect sense," Batman continued, shoving Tim's binders and laptop into a sack he found in the corner of the boy's room. "An earthquake serves to get everyone out of the city but also forces massive upheaval in the rock layers beneath Gotham that would bring deeply buried metals to the surface. Tim inadvertently uncovered the final piece of their plan, which is to blame the whole thing on this… 'Fault Ripper'. No one will think twice about it, there are a lot of insane, costumed villains in Gotham. One was bound to destroy the city eventually. No one would try to connect him to a company."

"But how can they do that, I mean, no one can cause an earthquake…can they?"

"Tim seems to think they can and, from the evidence he collected, I'm inclined to agree with him. They must have created some type of machine that can concentrate seismic energy. They tested it in Namibia. This was the result." He showed me a picture Tim had printed out and the destruction it showed chilled me to the bone. I sprang to my feet.

"So, what are we going to do?"

"I need you to take this to Gordan," Batman replied, shoving the sack he had just filled with all Tim's materials into my hands. "Have him begin to take precautions, any that he can think of, to protect people from what might be coming. It should also be enough for him to get a warrant for Namazu's headquarters. Go with him, see if there's anything you can find that might help us shut down this machine before they start it."

"What are you going to do?" I asked. Batman stared at me grimly.

"I'm going after Tim."