Chapter 17:

Batman couldn't believe his eyes. This had to be a dream, or some kind of hallucination. Robin was dead, he had carried the boy to the Batmobile himself. But then Conall was racing past him and aiming a foot at Robin's head.

Before Batman could shake himself out of his stupor, Conall was on the ground and Robin was closing his eyes. That was the thing that convinced him: only Robin could be nearly dead and still take down a bad guy with his bare hands.

"Robin!" he yelled as he jumped to his feet.

He raced over to the motionless teenager and dropped to his knees.

"Robin, can you hear me? Are you…it's impossible…you're dead!"

The last two words were whispered and the teenager, who was on the verge of darkness, could hear the despair. Robin realized he had been correct – Batman had really thought that the boy was dead.

"No," Robin stated, his voice soft and hoarse. "Tired."

"But I saw you, I held you in my arms! You weren't breathing, your heart wasn't beating, you were…are…so bloody!"

The Boy Wonder slowly opened his light-blue eyes. Everything was blurry and he wanted to go to sleep but Batman needed reassurance.

"I'm fine, everything is fine."

Robin was having trouble both talking and breathing so Batman decided it was time to go. Actually, 'time to go' had been about three minutes ago, when the boy had popped out of the alley.

Everything is fine, of course.

Alfred's words again echoed in his head and Batman shook his head in disbelief. Even after dying and coming back to life, Robin was still trying to make Batman feel better.

"Let's go, chum. I only have the Batcycle and you're going to have to ride in front. We're going to be a little squished."

But Robin had finally followed a black cloud into unconsciousness. Batman, still not quite willing to believe that this was real, laid his head on the small chest. He heard a strong but erratic heartbeat and felt the uneven rise and fall of Robin's torso during each wheezing breath.

"How is this possible?" the Caped Crusader murmured as he gathered the Boy Wonder in his muscular arms.

But how it had happened wasn't very important to Batman…for now. The fact that it did happen was all he could think about as he situated his young partner in front of him on the Batcycle. Somehow, Robin had escaped the icy hand of death.

"Over two hours, at least!" the hero exclaimed quietly as he started the engine.

He didn't know when the Boy Wonder had come back to life but it had been exactly one hour and fifty-eight minutes since Batman had gathered the boy's small, lifeless body into his arms in the State Pen.

"Batman!"

Startled out of his musings, the Caped Crusader turned his head toward the sound. Commissioner Gordon was crossing the street to meet him. Batman softly growled but waited, albeit impatiently.

"What..."

"Long story, Commissioner," Batman interrupted. "The main thing you need to know is that this man," he tilted his head toward the still-unconscious Conall O'Reilly, "kidnapped my partner. Also, if you ever try to send Robin to the State Pen again, we'll leave and never return. We'll go protect a different city, one that won't turn its back on the Boy Wonder because of a ridiculous article."

Batman's voice was full of a mixture of anger and disgust, directed not only at the entire police department, but also at himself. He had allowed Robin to be taken away and his partner had paid the ultimate price.

Commissioner Gordon glanced at the front of the Batcycle. The only thing he could see was a mop of dark hair sticking out of the blue-caped cocoon surrounding the Boy Wonder.

"Is he…?"

The commissioner didn't want to finish the question because he was terrified of the answer. Had Robin died because he had been thrown into the State Pen?

"That is a story for him to tell, Commissioner, if he lives through this," Batman stated, his voice too calm for the other man's comfort. "And if he decides to see or even speak to you again," he continued coolly. "I wouldn't, if I were in his place, but he is not me."

Batman left the commissioner to ponder that thought as he took off down the road. It would be Robin who would decide whether or not to help the GCPD. And if he didn't want to, then the Caped Crusader would begin thinking about hanging up his cowl. Bruce Wayne would rather have a living Dick Grayson and retiring would be the best way for them to do that. Because if Batman was going out, Robin would insist on coming, even if he had already decided not to help the police department. The Boy Wonder would never leave the Caped Crusader on his own, of that Batman was positive. He was too loyal, too determined, and too stubborn for that.

Batman suddenly realized that he was in the tunnel leading to the Batcave. Alfred was sitting on a chair by the Batmobile with tools strewn on the ground around him. The butler looked up when he heard the Batcycle gliding into its spot. He saw the same thing as the commissioner – a blue-caped cocoon with a head of dark hair sticking out.

"You found him," Alfred whispered, tears threatening to slide down his wrinkled cheeks.

With a quick nod, Batman carefully climbed off the Batcycle. Gathering his partner into his arms again, he swiftly strode to a medical table and laid the teenager down. Alfred's eyes widened in shock when he heard a soft moan.

"How…" he began but was quickly interrupted.

"I don't know how, Alfred, but he's alive. I held him when he was dead and now I'm putting him down alive. Right now I don't really care how because he needs you."

Alfred was already at the table, staring down at the near-fatally-wounded body and wondering what he and Batman had done to deserve this miracle.

Light-blue eyes sluggishly opened and the teenager attempted a grin.

"Hey," he said softly.

That led him into a silent coughing fit. Batman pulled Robin up and gently patted his back while Alfred almost sprinted to the nearest sink to clean himself up. The teenager began choking on air, his face turning blue as he fruitlessly attempted to bring oxygen into his lungs.

"Breathe, Robin, come on, chum," Batman commanded.

He continued to hold Robin up with one hand while pulling his cowl off with the other. Then he carefully untied and took off Robin's mask.

"Okay, you're okay," Bruce whispered as Dick's breathing began to calm down. "Let's not do that again, okay?"

Dick nodded and sank against his guardian's torso. He wanted to go to sleep, but he needed Bruce – no, Batman – to understand something.

"If I die," he croaked hoarsely, "you…"

"Stop," Bruce stated. "You've been through enough and you need to rest."

Shaking his head in disagreement, Dick continued, "You have to promise me."

"There's nothing to promise, Dick, because you're not going to die."

"Stop," the boy echoed. "I did die, I remember it."

"We're not talking about this, kiddo," Bruce declared as he laid the boy down again.

"Just…please," Dick implored, "just listen."

"You need sleep."

"Not yet."

Dick's voice was fading and he knew that soon he wouldn't be able to talk. But Batman needed to know that this would be okay with him.

"If I die," he began again.

"Dick," Bruce warned.

"Find another Robin," the boy whispered. "Batman needs a Robin."

Bruce was stunned. He agreed – Batman did need a Robin – but Dick Grayson was the only Robin he needed. Dick was Robin just as much as Robin was Dick and nobody else could fill those shoes.

"It's not going to happen, chum."

"Please," Dick rasped. "I'm…it's okay."

"Go to sleep," Bruce commanded, refusing to respond to what he deemed to be a ridiculous request.

"Know…everything?"

That was all Dick could get out so he silently asked for a pencil and paper.

"Yes, kiddo, I need to know everything but not right now. Right now you are going to go to sleep."

Dick shook his head then noticed Alfred pushing liquid into an IV that he didn't even know he had. The teenager shook his head again but Bruce smiled gently.

"Sleep well, kiddo. I'll be here when you wake up."

Two days later:

"Why isn't he awake yet?" Bruce demanded loudly, glaring at his butler.

"Sir, he died. He was beaten, drowned, left to bleed for who knows how long and he died. His body is trying to heal itself, Master Bruce. It's much easier to do that while unconscious."

Alfred was just as frustrated as Bruce but he had been a field medic. He had seen this happen too many times to count. Comas were not unusual when a body was as battered and broken as Robin's had been. The boy just needed some time, especially since he had come back from the dead.

They were in Dick's bedroom, where the teenager had been lying motionless for almost two days. Bruce hadn't left his side. He had promised to be there when Dick woke up and he wasn't about to break another promise. Batman had failed Robin, but Bruce wasn't going to fail Dick.

"Hey."

A drowsy whisper came from the bed beside them and both men looked over. Relief filled their faces as they watched Dick begin to open his eyes.

"I can talk again," the boy whispered with a slight grin.

"It's been two days," Bruce grumbled softly.

"Two d…?! It's okay, Bruce, I'm fine."

Dick's tone went from shocked to soothing when he saw the look on his guardian's face.

"You are not fine, chum, but you are looking better. Alfred reset your nose and stitched up almost your entire body. The Bat-ice did its work on your throat, eye and left hand. You're still black and blue all over, but you do look much better than when I brought you home."

"I drowned, Bruce," Dick commented timidly. "Joker…he pushed…I tried to stop him but I was just so tired."

"But you're here now and he's back in the State Pen. We don't have to talk about it right now. You just woke up from a two-day coma but you still look exhausted. Go back to sleep; the story can wait."

"Okay," the boy replied groggily. "But a full," he paused to yawn, "report."

"Full report," Bruce agreed and Dick easily slipped back into a deep slumber.

Three hours later:

Light-blue eyes slowly slid open. At least, Dick thought he had opened his eyes. It was still completely dark so maybe this was a dream. The teenager began pushing himself up, intending to get out of bed.

"No, chum, not yet."

The familiar voice was quiet but firm. Warm hands were now resting on his shoulders, gently pushing him back onto the pillow. A soft light filled the room as Alfred slid the dimmer up slightly.

"What time is it?" Dick whispered, his throat still a little sore.

"Almost seven, young sir," the butler answered. "Are you hungry?"

"Um, no, not really."

"You're going to have to eat, kiddo. You've had the equivalent of four good meals over the last five days. How about some soup?"

"A bottle of Bat-nutrients?" the boy asked hopefully.

Soup sounded disgusting to him right now – in fact, everything did. But if they were going to make him eat, something he could down quickly would be best. And Bat-nutrient bottles had everything they wanted him to have.

Alfred, ever the observant butler, walked around Dick's bed to the table on the other side.

"I assumed that you would want something quick, young sir," he stated with a soft smile as he popped open a bottle of Bat-nutrients.

"Alfred!" Bruce exclaimed, astonished that the butler had brought something Bat related into the house.

"Master Bruce," the older man acknowledged, politely nodding his head before leaving the room.

"Dick," Bruce began.

The teenager held up a finger as he finished swallowing the last of the liquid in the bottle. It burned his sore throat but at least he had nourishment inside him now.

"Full report," Dick said quietly when he was done. "It's not great, Bruce," he grimaced. "Are you sure you want to hear all of it? There's some stuff that, um, you need to promise me something first."

"Yes, I want to hear every single thing and I'm not going to promise that Batman will not go have some conversations with people in the State Pen. But if you're hesitant about it, we can wait."

"I just don't want Batman going on a rampage," Dick sighed. "Not that you would go kill people or anything. It's just that you're kind of overprotective sometimes and…"

"OVERPROTECTIVE?!" Bruce exploded.

Dick winced and Bruce attempted to calm down. He realized that he had jumped off the chair he had been sitting on so he took a deep breath and sat back down.

"You died, Dick. I don't think me having a perhaps-slightly-rough conversation with a certain villain can count as overprotective in this situation," the man growled.

"But I'm fine now," the boy replied. "The villains are all in the State Pen and I'm not. Isn't that good enough?"

"For now," Bruce grumbled. "And you're not fine so stop saying that. Whenever we spoke when you were in solitary it was always 'I'm fine, everything is fine.' Nothing was ever fine so just stop."

"Sorry," Dick mumbled, dropping his eyes to his hands. "I just…you sounded so stressed and angry and I didn't want you to feel like that. Everything was fine, until Joker came to see me, anyway."

"I will decide whether or not everything was fine, Dick, after I receive your full report. I know that you left out a lot of details. Batman never allows Robin to do that, and I'm not going to allow you to do it now. Full. Report."

"Okay," Dick sighed again.

"And absolutely no lying, kiddo," Bruce added. "I can handle hearing how bad it was more than I can handle hearing you lie to me."

"I just didn't want you to worry," the fifteen-year-old muttered. "I'd rather lie than hear you yelling at me because you're worried."

There was a short pause and then Dick amended his statement.

"Actually, I hated lying to you but you were so mad. About what was happening, I mean. I wanted you to feel better; I don't like hearing you so upset. I was worried about you."

"You were worried about me?!" Bruce exclaimed. "Did you really expect me to be okay with you sitting in a small cell and having no way out? Of course I was upset! I never should have let them take you away!"

Bruce was shouting by the end of his statement. Dick was looking at him with wide eyes full of unshed tears.

"I'm sorry," the boy said softly as a single tear slid down his still-bruised cheek.

The man realized he was standing up again and practically looming over his young ward. Dick looked distraught and Bruce immediately backed away and sat down.

"I'm sorry, too," he stated. "Do you still want to tell me about it or should we wait?"

Instantly the entire story began pouring from the teenager's mouth, from talking to Lt. Copple in processing all the way to knowing he was taking his last breath. A large variety of expressions raced across Bruce's face while he listened and even more emotions zipped through his body. Sometimes his fists were clenched, sometimes he wanted to go to the State Pen at that very moment and pound some guards into the ground, and a few times he wanted to cry.

"Did you find me, Bruce? Was I actually…I mean, did you have to see me…?"

"Yes, chum, I was the first one to see you," Bruce answered quietly. "You weren't breathing, weren't moving, you had no heartbeat, you were so pale and bloody."

"I'm sorry it was you."

"None of this was your fault, Dick. You have nothing to apologize for."

"I just wish someone else…it shouldn't have been you."

"Kiddo, I would have held your lifeless body in my arms whether I was the first to see you or not. You were dead, Dick. For at least two hours you were dead."

"Then how am I here?" the teenager questioned.

"I don't know. O'Reilly said something about Joker having some kind of potion but I was more concerned about finding you than listening to him."

"You still thought I was dead, didn't you?"

"I thought I was hallucinating. I heard your voice, saw your face, but knew you were dead. People don't just come back to life, Dick. I knew it had to be some kind of trick. But then you took the guy down! Lying on your side, bloody, exhausted, in pain, wheezing, but you still knocked him unconscious. That's when I realized it wasn't a hallucination. Only Robin is strong enough to do something like that."

"What I said in the Batcave…it's true. You know it is."

"I don't know which part you're talking about, chum," Bruce replied, even though he was pretty sure he did know.

"Batman needs a Robin," Dick whispered. "Even if it's not me, Batman needs a Robin."

"There will never be another you, Dick Grayson, and nobody could ever replace you. Batman doesn't need a Robin, he needs you."

"Yes, but if I'm not around anymore…what about when I grow up? Am I still going to be 'just' the sidekick? The Man Wonder instead of the Boy Wonder?"

"Just don't grow up," Bruce stated firmly, although amusement was woven through the words. "We'll cross that bridge when we come to it. Right now, I think you need to rest – your eyes are drooping. You've been through a lot and you're still exhausted. I'll be right here."

"What if…Bat-signal…innocent…"

Dick fell asleep before he could finish the question.

"The Bat-signal can wait, chum," Bruce whispered. "Last time I left to answer it you died so, for now, they're on their own."