Chapter 18:

Several days later:

"Bruce, can I talk to you?"

Dick hesitantly entered the living room, where his guardian was thumbing through the morning paper.

"Of course, Dick," the man answered as he looked up. Then he saw the boy's expression and jumped to his feet.

"What's wrong?!" Bruce nearly yelled.

Dick's eyes were red and puffy, his entire body was trembling – although only Batman would notice that – and his lightly bruised cheeks were streaked with still-drying tears.

"Do you think I should still be Robin?"

That was a question that Bruce wasn't prepared for. He had been wanting to discuss this very subject but had decided to wait until the teenager seemed ready. Apparently, Dick was ready.

"I think that should be your decision, chum," he replied.

"That's a cop-out, Bruce. I already know what I think. What do you think?"

"If you already know then why do you need my input?" the man asked, attempting to avoid having to answer.

"Because I need to know if it was worth it."

"It?"

"Dying. Is being Robin worth dying for?"

"No," Bruce immediately answered firmly. "Nothing is worth dying for, kiddo."

"You are," Dick whispered. "And Alfred, and the innocent citizens of Gotham City."

There was a long pause. Bruce had no idea what to say and Dick was patiently waiting for an answer. After several minutes of silence, the teenager continued.

"If you had to choose, right now, yes or no to Robin? You can't ask for my answer and you can only choose one. I deserve to know how you feel about this."

Bruce agreed with that statement. Dick did deserve to know. The man had been wrestling with this question every day since his ward had gone to the State Pen. Batman, of course, wanted Dick Grayson's Robin to remain by his side. Bruce Wayne, however, didn't want to lose the boy to death or drag his bright light into the darkness. The teenager had so much potential as both Dick and Robin. But what was best for him?

"For purely selfish reasons, I say yes to Robin. However, you deserve much more than that. You deserve to live a full life, Dick, and I don't know if you can do that as Robin."

Shock filled the light-blue eyes of the fifteen-year-old. Batman wanted Robin, but he was also saying that Robin should retire?!

"Are you going to tell me your thoughts?" Bruce asked after a short pause.

Shaking his head, Dick turned around and raced up the stairs to his room. The door slammed and Bruce sighed heavily. Dick had looked stunned with the man's answer but Bruce had no idea what the boy was thinking.

Later that evening:

Bruce stared at his young ward from the end of the dining room's long table. Dick was staring right back, although his look was more of a glare. Alfred was standing by the kitchen door, his eyes flicking between the two and wondering what they were going to fight about.

Dick finally broke the lengthy silence.

"You think keeping Robin is selfish," he stated coldly.

Not sure why the teen's voice sounded so frosty, the man replied, "Yes, because Batman needs Robin. But does Robin need Batman? You're a hero all by yourself, you don't need me. So, yes, it is selfish of me to ask you to keep Robin alive."

"What makes you think that Robin doesn't need Batman?" Dick asked angrily.

"You went to the State Pen, alone, and survived two riots and a fight. Then you beat up a major villain with your hands literally tied behind your back. You died but came back to life and then took down a man bent on revenge with your bare hands while nearly unconscious. That was all you; the only thing I did was allow them to send you to prison."

Dick opened his mouth but was interrupted before he could say anything.

"And I didn't see you for two days, leaving you wondering why I had broken my promise about checking on you," Bruce added, guilt filling the words.

That comment sidetracked the teenager and he said, "You told me it was a long story but then never told me the story. What happened?"

Dick's tone was now curious instead of angry. This time it was Batman's story that poured out, from finding out who was in the State Pen, to searching for Robin only to discover that there was no record of him, to finally hearing his young partner's voice from the other side of a solid steel door.

There was another lengthy silence, broken only by the soft sound of the door between the kitchen and dining room closing. Alfred had silently disappeared – sometimes there were things that needed to be worked out between his two charges without the butler's words of wisdom.

"I'm sorry," Bruce finally whispered.

Shrugging, Dick replied, "It doesn't matter. You got me out in the end."

"But you died, chum. I basically killed you, I never should have let them take you away. It does matter because all of this is my fault. Like I said, Robin doesn't need Batman," the man stated sadly, dropping his head and staring at his plate instead of the accusatory eyes of his ward.

"Sometimes, Bruce, you're a bigger idiot than I am," the teenager growled. "If there was no Batman, there wouldn't be a Robin. And if there was no Robin, I probably would have run away a long time ago to find the man who killed my family. But I would have done it without training and probably would have died. If Batman didn't exist, there would be no Bruce Wayne and Dick Grayson because Batman wouldn't have taken down the criminal at the circus that night. You would have been just another spectator and I would be just another orphan in Gotham City's foster system."

"So you needed Batman in the beginning," Bruce commented quietly as he lifted his head. "You needed him to get started but now you're a hero in your own right."

"Shut up," Dick commanded heatedly. "I don't care what you think because you're wrong. You have never been more wrong than you are right now."

"You should probably think before you speak, Dick," the man growled, irritated by the boy's words and tone.

"I have been thinking, for several days. And if you think that you can get rid of Robin by saying that he doesn't need Batman or that I can't live a 'full' life while being a crime-fighter, then you're more of an idiot than I said ten seconds ago."

Bruce stood up and slammed his right hand on the table.

"The longer you stay with Batman," he roared, "the easier it will be for you to become like him! I don't want you to lose the light you have inside you!"

"So first you say that Robin is strong enough to be a hero on his own, but now you're saying that he's not strong enough to hold whatever darkness you think Batman might 'drag him into' at bay?!" Dick snarled as he, too, jumped to his feet.

The man dropped onto his chair, his eyes filled with some kind of emotion that neither of the two could figure out.

"That's a great way to treat a sidekick," the teenager continued sarcastically. "You're strong, but not really. Way to both compliment and tear down at the same time."

"That's not what I meant," Bruce stated, his voice calm but outlined with frustration.

"Yes, it is, and you know it. No matter what you or Batman think, Robin will always – always – need Batman. Keeping Robin isn't selfish on Batman's part; retiring him is selfish of Bruce Wayne."

"I can't lose you again," the man whispered in defeat.

"I'll train harder, get better, become faster and stronger. I'll work harder than you've ever seen me work," Dick assured him as he sat down.

"Villains cheat, chum. Joker cheated with a guard," Bruce retorted.

"And we should have expected something like that," the teen countered. "We were unprepared for what just happened but it all worked out. We'll sit down and think of every possible situation that could ever occur at any time and create solutions."

"That's impossible," the man snapped.

"Have you tried it?" Dick asked sharply. "There are a lot of things I learned in the State Pen. We can at least prepare for those situations."

"But you're not going back so they don't matter."

"Really?" the boy stated incredulously. "Paranoid Batman is telling me that a hypothetical situation doesn't matter?"

Bruce had nothing to say to that because Dick was right. They should have anticipated everything, should have had a plan for everything. He could count on one hand all the times that Batman had been unprepared for something. There were two, and both of them involved Dick Grayson: that fateful night at the circus and the recent events at the State Pen.

It was Dick who broke the silence again.

"I'm going to double my training time. Get up, train, breakfast, school, homework, train, dinner, train, patrol, bed. That's my new schedule."

"Dick, that won't work. You have to have some you time or you're going to burn out. Quickly."

"Let me try it for a month."

"Two weeks."

"Three."

"Sixteen days."

"Seventeen."

"One."

"Okay! Sixteen days."

"You're going to be exhausted and grumpy and you won't be able to concentrate and focus as well as you should. If things start happening at school – grades dropping, falling asleep in class, not paying attention to teachers, or anything else – you're done. That is my one restriction and don't try to find a way around it."

Dick jumped up from his chair with a small wince and an even smaller grimace.

"Well, it's after dinner. Time to go train."

"You can start when your ribs are healed and your body isn't black and blue all over."

"I'm fine!"

"Which is why your breathing is slightly labored and your hands are clenched. Clearly, you're absolutely fine," Bruce stated sarcastically.

The boy's body immediately relaxed but the man could still hear the quiet wheezes scattered throughout Dick's breathing.

"You're in pain, Dick. Just let yourself heal before jumping back into everything."

"Does Joker know I'm alive?" Dick asked, abruptly changing the subject.

"There are only four people who know for sure and three of them live in this house."

"But do you think that O'Reilly guy would tell other prisoners?"

"Do you really think a man like Conall O'Reilly, who is barely a criminal, would talk to anybody in the State Pen?"

"True," Dick mused. "What about…"

"Master Bruce, Master Dick," Alfred interrupted quietly. "I think you should come look at this."

All three of them went to the kitchen, where the butler had been watching the news while waiting for his boys to finish their conversation.

"…Boy Wonder is dead," the dark-haired news anchor stated soberly. "While we have not received confirmation from Batman, Joker is claiming responsibility. The video we are about to share with you has details that may not be suitable for young children to hear. View at your own discretion."

The screen switched from the anchor desk to a video obviously taken in the State Pen. Joker was at a metal table, handcuffed to a ring in the center, and laughing uncontrollably. Dick's hands clenched into fists and Bruce narrowed his eyes. Maybe the teenager shouldn't see this.

"Master Dick," Alfred suddenly stated, "perhaps I could interest you in some dessert? Of course, you will have to eat it in the di…"

"I'm watching," the teenager growled.

"I don't know, chum…"

"I. Am. Watching. Be quiet so I can hear."

His tone was commanding but his voice was soft. Bruce and Alfred were worried but decided to let him watch. For now, anyway.

Joker was cackling now. Dick moved closer, glaring at the screen and wishing he was in there punching the villain's lights out.

"Here's how it went down," Joker stated with a sneer. "We fought and I won. I broke his nose and several ribs, cracked his head open twice on the corner of a toilet, choked him with a weapon…"

"A guard's weapon," Dick snarled softly.

"…and drowned him!" the villain finished triumphantly. "Oh, he's definitely dead. I held his head under the water for several minutes. Then, when he stopped struggling, I held it down for another minute or so, just to be sure."

Black spots began dancing across the teenager's vision. Water, so much water, filling his ears and mouth and nose and lungs and…

"You're okay, chum, it's over!"

He heard Bruce's frantic voice from far away and Dick sluggishly opened his eyes. His guardian's face came into focus and the teenager realized he was lying on the kitchen floor.

"You passed out, kiddo," Bruce explained quietly when he saw confusion filling the boy's light-blue eyes. "It was too much, I knew it would be too much. You shouldn't have…I shouldn't have let you watch."

Dick's eyes went from Bruce's face to the television on the counter. The screen was blank and Alfred was standing right beside it, concern in his eyes.

A smirk slowly slid across the teen's face.

"He still thinks I'm dead."

"Yes, and now everyone else does, too."

"But they probably don't care. I mean, they all wanted 'justice for The Darkling'."

"Not all of them," Bruce declared evenly.

The memory of the jeering crowd presented itself in his mind and the man was hard-pressed to remain calm.

"Well," Dick whispered, "most of them."

"No, kiddo," Bruce stated. "That was a crowd of only twenty-seven people. There are around ten million people in Gotham City. That's less than one-eighth of one percent."

The teenager slowly sat up and Bruce, who had been crouching by his ward's side, stood up. He stretched and then sat on the nearest kitchen chair.

"What is Batman going to say?" Dick asked, his eyes flicking from his guardian to the blank television screen and back again.

"I don't know."

"Let him think he killed me. Then, when he escapes, let me take him down."

"Dick…"

"Wait! Before you answer, remember that I'm upping my training and I'll be stronger by the time he escapes! Think about it: Joker bragging to you about killing me and then I pop out from behind you and knock him out!"

Bruce sighed. He didn't want to agree, but he had to admit it was a good idea. By allowing Robin to arrest Joker, Batman would be showing the villain that his partner was not only alive, but also stronger than any of them had known.

"You think it's a good plan!" Dick nearly crowed. "I can see indecision in your eyes – you don't want to do it but you know it's a good plan!"

"You're right, I don't want to do it," Bruce replied firmly. "Batman will make a statement that Robin is alive but injured and will be out of commission for an undetermined amount of time."

"Come on, Bruce, please. Just do it my way so I can see Joker's face when he realizes that he failed. He killed me, Bruce! Let him find out the truth from me! Let me take him down!"

"I'll think about it."

"Master Bruce, if you intend to think about young Master Dick's plan, then I must advise you not to think for too long. It has, after all, been almost a week since the incident and people will be waiting for you to confirm or refute Joker's story."

At that moment, all three heard a very familiar sound coming from the direction of the study.

"Now you have to decide, Bruce," Dick declared.

The man stared at the teenager for several seconds. Light-blue eyes began pleading for understanding while doubt skipped around in Bruce's dark-blue circles. Bruce finally gave a short nod.

"YES!" Dick shouted in a whisper, ecstatic with his guardian's decision.

Bruce left to answer the Batphone and the teenager slowly stood up.

"May I help you with anything, young sir?" Alfred inquired.

"No, thanks, I'm just going to rest here for a minute or two."

"As you wish. If you don't mind, Master Dick, I will begin clearing dinner."

"You don't have to ask me, Alfred!" Dick exclaimed with a laugh as he sat down.

The butler went through the door leading to the dining room. Dick stared at the blank television screen for several seconds before making a decision. He quietly went to the counter and flipped the switch to turn on the TV, quickly turning down the volume as soon as the picture came up.

"…from Batman," the solemn reporter continued. "Joker has taken our breath away. When will the Caped Crusader restore it to us? And, can he? If the Boy Wonder really is dead, does the fate of Gotham City lie solely in the hands of the Police Department during Batman's expected period of mourning? No offense intended, but how often have our brave policemen been able to catch a criminal the caliber of Joker?"

There was a pause as the anchorman put his hand to his ear. A murmur and a nod later, the newscaster looked directly into the camera.

"Commissioner Gordon has just confirmed it," the man said gravely. "He was on the phone with Batman less than thirty seconds ago and the Caped Crusader told him that Robin, the Boy Wonder, did not survive his violent prison encounter with the Clown Prince of Crime."

Another pause and another nod.

"Batman will hold a press conference at ten o'clock tomorrow morning outside Police Headquarters. This is a sad day, citizens of Gotham. One of our heroes has been taken from us at such a young age. Mayor Linseed is proclaiming tomorrow a day of mourning in memory of Robin. Tune in tomorrow morning to hear from Batman. Good night."

"A press conference?" Dick mumbled. "What's he going to say besides 'Robin's dead'?"

"The commissioner asked me to address the citizens, although they might not like what I'm going to say," Bruce stated loudly as he walked into the kitchen.

"Why not?"

"I'm going to talk about that article and its repercussions. Because a reporter printed lies, an innocent young man went to prison which led to his death. And other such things."

"Details?" Dick asked.

"Joker gave them all they need to know," Bruce whispered.

"Thanks for letting me do this, Bruce."

The man stared thoughtfully at his ward, just as he had before going to answer the Batphone.

"I'm still not sure but what's done is done. I need you to focus on healing so you can build up your strength. It won't take Joker long to escape. If you want to arrest him, it has to be the first time he escapes, not the second or third."

"Because we'll look stupid if this doesn't work."

With a slight grin, Bruce nodded.

"I have a press conference to prepare for," the man said.

Turning around, he strode out the door. Dick, with a grin of his own, switched off the TV and headed for his room. Sleeping helped a body heal, and he needed his to heal quickly.