One month later:
Dick was lying flat on his back on the training mat in the Batcave, panting. He had left his chest open and Batman had taken advantage. The man had not used full power, of course, but the flat-handed jab had knocked the wind out of the ten-year-old and sent him tumbling to the ground.
"You missed an opportunity," Batman growled as he held out his hand.
"Because I missed the block," Dick grumbled, accepting the proffered hand.
Batman pulled the boy up to standing then took several paces back and folded his arms across his chest.
"Tell me," the man commanded.
"I went right when I should have gone left," Dick admitted with a sigh. "I was watching your eyes instead of your hands."
"Exactly," Batman stated, a touch of approval in his voice. "Sometimes it's good to watch your opponent's eyes but other times it puts you at a huge disadvantage. You have to know the difference, Dick, in order to keep up with anyone taller than you."
"But I'm getting better?" the ten-year-old asked hopefully.
"Slightly," the hero conceded after a short pause.
"I would call his progress more than just 'slight', sir," Alfred commented.
The butler had been dusting the Bat-computer, but had paused to watch the sparring match. And he was right. Dick was keeping up with Batman for one minute now, instead of the 'less than a minute' that had been frustrating the boy for two weeks. Granted, he had only done it three times, but this match had just made it four in a row.
Bruce, after a long week of deliberation, had decided that it would be okay for Dick to learn offense. But he still refused to even entertain the thought of the ten-year-old becoming a crime-fighter. On weekends, Batman allowed Dick to help Alfred in the Batcave while the hero was on patrol, but that was the extent of it.
"Again," Dick demanded, dropping into a defensive stance.
"Lunch," Batman replied firmly, unfolding his arms and walking away.
"Just one more time, please?" the ten-year-old practically begged.
The man didn't respond so the boy rushed at him, going for a surprise attack behind the hero. But the hero was Batman, and he wasn't at all surprised.
His cape swirled around him as he turned, blurring Dick's vision and leaving him vulnerable to a counter-attack. The cape was followed by a fist that the ten-year-old didn't even see. Luckily, he was small enough that it passed harmlessly over his head.
"That would have knocked you out, chum," Batman stated, disapproval evident in his tone. "You were reckless and not paying attention. I went high so that you wouldn't find yourself on a medical table with a concussion when you woke up."
"You went high because you're used to adults, not me," Dick retorted, trying to save face.
"Do you really think I forgot that it was you I was fighting merely two minutes ago?!" the man asked incredulously. "You think my reaction was automatic and not well thought out?"
"I…um, I guess not," Dick replied weakly. "How did you know?"
"You were loud," Batman said indifferently. "If you're going for a surprise attack, you should at least try to be stealthy about it. And you're not ready to defend yourself after you miss an attack like that, anyway. You're barely hanging on when you can see what's coming."
"But…"
"Lunch," the man said firmly, waving his hand at the boy dismissively.
Dick dropped his head and walked away. Fifteen seconds later he was in the service elevator on his way up to the Manor.
"That last part was a bit harsh, Master Batman," Alfred remarked. "He is doing much better, especially since he has only been training for a mere three weeks."
"He thought he could get away with something that he's obviously not ready for," Batman countered. "Maybe after being knocked down a peg he'll think before trying a move like that again."
Alfred raised his eyebrows and didn't reply. Batman sighed.
"Fine, I agree that he's doing better," the latter man grumbled.
Silence reigned. Alfred stared at his charge dubiously.
"Fine," Batman huffed as he removed his cowl. "He doesn't need to be knocked down a peg. Happy?"
"I'm not the one to whom you should be telling these things, sir," Alfred stated evenly.
"Are you…mad at me?" Bruce asked in disbelief.
"Of course not, Master Bruce. I'm merely exasperated. Master Dick has never needed to be 'knocked down a peg'. You of all people should know that he doesn't have an ounce of arrogance in his body."
"What do you want me to do, take it easy on him?!"
"Physically? No, I think you are doing well in that area, sir. But there is no need to shake his confidence in either himself or his rapidly developing abilities."
Alfred was right, of course. Bruce wanted Dick to feel confident in his fighting skills and that wasn't going to happen if Batman made disparaging remarks in order to prove a point.
"There is nothing wrong with apologizing, Master Bruce."
"You think I need to apologize?!" Bruce exclaimed.
"I think you need to at least acknowledge that you probably shouldn't have said he was 'barely hanging on', sir. Master Dick has made it past the minute mark four times in a row."
"Four times?" Bruce asked in surprise. "In a row?"
"Yes, Master Bruce, four times in a row."
"He really is getting better," the younger man murmured as he walked toward his Bat-pole. "Four in a row," he whispered just before shooting himself up to the Manor.
Dick was waiting for him in the study, eyes on the ground and arms folded across his small chest.
"I'm sorry," the ten-year-old said quietly. "You're right, of course. It was stupid of me to try something new since I'm not even good at what I know. I'm sorry," he repeated.
"Stupid of you?" Bruce echoed, eyebrows raised in surprise. "You are not even remotely close to being stupid, Dick."
"Except when it comes to fighting."
"Dick."
The boy didn't answer, choosing instead to chew his bottom lip while still staring at the ground.
"Dick," Bruce repeated.
Still no response and the man shook his head, disappointed in himself.
"Look at me, chum," Bruce commanded.
A pair of light-blue eyes, full of regret, connected with Bruce's own dark-blue ones.
"You are not stupid, Dick. You're not great at offense…"
The ten-year-old dropped his eyes to the ground again when he heard that.
"No, kiddo, I'm not done," Bruce said. "Look at me, please."
This time the light-blue eyes were swimming with disappointment.
"You're not great at offense yet. But, Alfred just told me that you've made it past the minute mark four times in a row."
A slight grin slid across Dick's face then just as quickly disappeared.
"I know," the boy whispered.
"You…how?" Bruce stammered in disbelief.
"Alfred."
"Of course," the man murmured.
"He nodded the first time but now he just smir…smiles."
Smirks. Alfred was smirking because Dick was improving without Batman even recognizing it. Bruce shook his head in amusement.
"Don't tell him," Dick said, his tone almost pleading.
"What? Don't tell him what?"
"I didn't mean…he smiles, Bruce, he just smiles."
"Of course he does, chum, I understood you."
"Okay, as long as we're clear about that. He smiles."
"He's proud of you," Bruce remarked. "Of course he's going to smile."
"Are…never mind."
"Ask," the man lightly demanded.
"No, it's a stupid question. Just forget it."
"Never in the entire time I've known you have you asked a stupid question, Dick."
"Well, you already kind of answered it downstairs so I don't really need to ask it."
Bruce knew what the ten-year-old wanted to hear. He also knew that Batman had hurt Dick's feelings and, as Alfred had said, shaken the boy's confidence.
"Yes, Dick," Bruce said with a slight grin, "I'm proud of you."
Dick's entire face lit up and unbridled joy filled his expressive eyes.
"Batman shouldn't have said that," Bruce admitted. "You are improving, and making it past a minute four times in a row is impressive."
Before Bruce even realized it, Dick was in his arms, squeezing him as hard as he could.
"Thankyouthankyouthankyouthankyou!" the boy exclaimed.
The man laughed and wrapped his arms around the small body.
"If this is all it takes to get a good hug…" he chuckled.
"Nononono, I'm sorry, I'll hug you every thirty minutes on the dot!"
Bruce laughed again and Dick giggled.
"Let's go have lunch. What do you feel like eating?"
"COOKIES!" the ten-year-old exclaimed.
"That's not lunch, chum," Bruce chuckled. "However, four times in a row does call for a celebration. Maybe we can ask Alfred about that."
"Master Bruce, 'Alfred' has already made the cookies that he knew Master Dick was going to ask for because he knew that after you found out about the boy's accomplishment you would eventually decide to celebrate it."
Alfred was standing at the open door of the study, hands clasped behind his back and a polite smile on his face.
"Of course you did!" both Bruce and Dick exclaimed at the same time.
"You know everything!" Dick continued.
"So it seems, Master Dick," Alfred replied with the not-a-smirk expression that Bruce was becoming accustomed to seeing.
One month later – the Batcave:
"I can't believe it!" Dick yelled, pumping his fist in the air. "I did it, I beat you!"
"Dick," Batman replied, amusement in his voice, "I stumbled back. That's not 'beating' me. That's called a good counterattack."
The ten-year-old was bouncing lightly on his toes, his fists raised defensively in front of him. To Batman, he looked like a tiny boxer. His movements, however, belied the look. Dick was fast and his attacks were almost graceful in their appearance. He could hold his own for almost five minutes now, and the Caped Crusader was thinking about increasing the power behind his own attacks. Even more than he had done two weeks ago. That would put Batman at a little over half-power, which was more powerful than some villains.
Batman had to admit that, if it ever came down to it, Dick would be able to fight his way out of some situations. He probably would have been able to escape from Michael Wickers without getting his kneecaps shattered. One-on-one with an inexperienced adult was even possible. Which meant, if it was someone like Scarecrow, the ten-year-old could be victorious if the villain didn't cheat. That, however, was a big 'if'. Villains were notorious for cheating. Fear gas, Joker-gas, poisoned darts, sleeping draughts, and so many other things.
Then Batman wondered why he was even thinking about Dick fighting villains. It wasn't like it was ever going to happen. Unless someone attempted to kidnap him, which was a moot point because neither Bruce nor Batman would ever allow that to happen.
Suddenly the hero was on the ground. He had been lost in thought, and Dick had taken advantage. The boy had tackled him and was now sitting on the man's chest, fist raised threateningly. Batman almost laughed – the punch wouldn't do any damage from a sitting position – but then realized that a ten-year-old had just knocked him off his feet.
"Did I beat you now?" Dick asked in his best Batman-growl imitation.
"Master Dick, that was perfect timing!" Alfred exclaimed from across the room. "Your opponent was obviously distracted and you took the opportunity at the right moment. Well done, young sir!"
Dick blushed at the praise as he climbed off Batman's chest. He held out his hand, offering to help the hero up. The man grabbed the boy's hand and yanked him down then flipped them over. Now Dick was on the ground and Batman had his fist raised threateningly over the small head.
And then he was gone. Dick was both small and fast. Before Batman could react, the ten-year-old had grabbed the man's legs and pulled himself under, sliding out behind Batman and instantly scrambling to his feet.
Batman immediately spun around while standing up. But Dick was gone again. The hero stared up in amazement as Dick rotated past him in the air, landing in a half-lunging crouch behind the man.
"How…" Batman began and the hesitation cost him.
Dick executed a perfect front handspring from his position. Batman had turned around again, just in time for a small but strong fist to slam into his solar plexus. That was followed by an uppercut that barely grazed his chin. He was, after all, over a foot taller than his ward.
Because the punch missed, Batman now had the advantage. He grabbed Dick's raised arm and easily twisted the boy around. Dick was compromised, his shoulder stretched almost to its limit with his arm pressed against his back, but he fought back anyway.
And that was Dick's first experience with a dislocated shoulder. The loud 'POP' echoed around the Batcave, the ten-year-old screamed, Batman dropped the arm, and Alfred almost flew across the space separating him from his charges.
Dick had crumpled to the ground and was hugging his injured arm. Batman had dropped to his knees, his hands hovering over the injury and his face full of regret.
"I'm sorry, chum, I'm so sorry," he whispered.
The boy didn't respond. His face was pale, sweat was beading up on his forehead and his eyes were squeezed shut. But there were no tears because Dick had decided that if he was going to be 'Robin' he would have to handle whatever pain he received without giving his opponent an advantage. But this…this was almost too much.
"Master Dick, do you want some Bat-gas before we reset your shoulder?" Alfred inquired calmly.
Dick shook his head but Batman already had the can ready. A short mist of Bat-gas later, the ten-year-old was completely relaxed and nearly asleep. Batman gently picked him up and laid him on a medical table. Alfred grabbed the injured shoulder and expertly popped it back into place.
"What happened, sir?" the butler asked sharply.
"I guess I used too much force."
"You…guess…sir?!"
"I didn't expect him to fight back! I thought he would realize that it was over!"
"After all the training he's been doing, you expected him to just give up?! Sir!"
"Yes, I mean, no, not give up. Just stop, because it's only me."
"Whom, Master Batman, do you think he's trying to impress? Me? Certainly not, sir, which is why you should have known that he would not give up unless he couldn't move."
Instead of answering, Batman took the can of Bat-awake out of his utility belt and sprayed it in front of Dick's face. The boy immediately woke up.
"Did I cry?"
"Did you…that's the first thing you want to know?!" Batman exclaimed incredulously.
"No, Master Dick," Alfred replied at the same time.
"I almost got away," Dick whispered, almost to himself. "Block the pain, try again."
"What was that, chum?" Batman asked, certain he had misunderstood.
"I said I almost got away," the ten-year-old repeated.
"No, after that. Something about a lock and trying again?"
"Hmm? I don't remember," Dick replied, justifying the lie by telling himself that Robin would explain it to Batman when Batman finally allowed Dick Grayson to become Robin.
"You did a backflip over my head," Batman stated, a small amount of awe in his tone. "A standing backflip."
"No, I did a back handspring first. You were just too slow to see that part," the boy responded with a grin. "It takes you longer to stand up than it does for me to do that trick."
"But still…"
"Come on, Batman, I've been doing that combination since I was three or four. You really think I can't train my body to tumble faster?"
"Faster?" the man echoed.
Dick sat up and slid off the table. He carefully rolled his shoulder and grimaced.
"I would say you could time me today, but maybe we should wait until tomorrow. I have a slight ache in my shoulder."
Flashing a cheeky grin, Dick turned toward the service elevator and left the Batcave.
