Note: Sorry for the lengthy delay. Life happens.
Gotham National Bank:
Scarecrow had attempted to use his new fear gas on Batman, but the hero had already made an antidote and taken the Bat-pill. Back in the Batmobile, he called the Batcave again. He was surprised when, again, it was Alfred who answered.
"Where is D…Robin?" Batman growled.
There was a long pause and Batman sighed in both anger and concern.
"Did you help him?" the hero snapped.
"Whatever do you mean, sir?" came the butler's calm reply.
"You know exactly what I mean. Did. You. Help. Him?"
"No, sir," Alfred finally stated. "He told me he was going to the bathroom and, when he didn't come back down, I assumed he had gone to bed. He looked rather tired."
"Where is he?"
"Crime Alley, sir. He just took down Two-Face for you."
"He…WHAT?!"
"He knocked Two-Face into oblivion, sir. There was a henchman with a gun, but instead of shooting Master Robin, he lowered it and walked toward them. Now that man is also down and Master Robin is sitting up."
"He's just sitting there?!" Batman exclaimed. "What's wrong with him?"
"Just a moment, sir, he's standing up. Okay, he's going toward an alley and has now disappeared."
"I…"
"No, sorry, sir, he's now riding his bike back toward the center of the city."
"Where…"
"How exactly, sir, am I supposed to know where he is when he doesn't have a Bat-communicator and he is riding a bike in a heavily populated city?"
Alfred's voice held a tinge of frustration, and Batman knew exactly why. The hero had suspected that Robin was going to go out – had even practically given him permission in a backwards way – and should have just taken him along in the Batmobile. At least then he wouldn't be on his own.
"Sir, you said he's not going with you."
"I know," Batman growled. "Which means he felt he could go on his own."
"I'm glad we're on the same page, Master Batman. I told him not to go, sir. Right after you left, he asked, and I told him no. Yet he still did. And he somehow has a costume to conceal his identity. I did not make him another one, sir, before you ask."
"I'm going after him."
"Again, sir, he is riding a bike in the middle of a heavily populated city. You would have a better chance of finding a needle in a haystack, sir."
"He's in a costume and it's past midnight," Batman retorted. "I'll start at Crime Alley and try to follow him from there. I'm only a couple of miles away. Batman out."
"Of course, Master Batman," Alfred replied to the silence. "Good heavens, Master Robin, what are we going to do with you?"
Crime Alley:
Robin sighed, wondering where this new trickle of blood was coming from. Probably his shoulder, since the top of his arm felt wet. He took his hand off his head and held out his arm to inspect it. The blood originated from his wrist, and was sliding along his forearm toward his elbow.
That's weird.
Shouldn't the blood be originating at his shoulder and running down his bicep? Why was the streak of crimson leaking from his wrist, which didn't hurt in the slightest? Then again, he realized, his shoulder didn't hurt, either. His head, on the other hand…
Robin's eyes widened as a thought occurred to him. The officer had shot at Two-Face, but the villain hadn't been hit. Raising his other arm, the ten-year-old gingerly touched his head with just his fingers. When he pulled his hand away, his fingertips were red.
I've been shot in the head!
But why wasn't he dead on the ground? People don't usually survive being shot in the head, right?
The officer Robin had knocked out groaned, and the boy decided it was time to leave. Carefully, he stood up and made his way to where he had stashed his bike. Climbing on, he turned it around and headed toward the center of Gotham City. Time to find the next villain.
Batman sped through Crime Alley, keeping one eye out for criminals and the other one searching for his partner – no, his son.
Where did 'partner' come from?
Batman didn't need a partner. Batman was fine on his own. Batman didn't need help. Ever. Except that time he had been frozen in a block of ice…and that other time he had been delayed by seven or eight henchmen who would have kept him occupied while dangerous criminals pillaged Gotham City.
"Batman doesn't need help," he loudly stated authoritatively.
The hero slammed on his brakes as a person staggered in front of the Batmobile. Batman raised his eyebrows in disbelief when Two-Face leaned against the front end of the vehicle. The man was wheezing slightly, and one arm was wrapped around his torso.
"I know you don't need help," the villain began snidely, "but you got some from a little kid. You have an apprentice, Batman?"
"No," the hero growled, refusing to explain further.
"He's smart," Two-Face admitted, scowling. "He waited for the perfect opportunity, and didn't miss his chance when it appeared. You trained him well."
Batman opened his mouth to reply, but decided that talking to this particular villain was a waste of time. Time he could be using to find the boy that Two-Face had reluctantly complimented. Stepping out of the Batmobile, the hero strode to the villain and slapped a pair of Bat-cuffs around his wrists.
Just then, a henchman with a gun walked around the corner. Batman grabbed a Bat-a-rang, but the other man held up his hands in submission.
"Officer Jones, Batman. My ID is in my pocket, if you care to see it. I'll take care of him so you can continue on your way."
Batman strode to the man and nodded. The officer held the gun away from himself and reached into his left pocket. He pulled out his official GCPD badge, which Batman scrutinized carefully. Another nod, and Officer Jones put it away.
"My car is around the corner. I'll take it from here," the man said. "Also, there is a kid running around in a costume, calling himself Robin. He's the one that took down Two-Face. You…know him?"
Ignoring the question, Batman whirled around and stalked back to the Batmobile. He climbed in, the engine roared to life, and then he was gone.
"I accidentally shot him," the officer said to the cloud of dirt and receding taillights.
Two-Face, who was sitting on the ground, started laughing.
"You shot him?!" the villain yelled gleefully.
"I grazed the side of his head," Officer Jones said defensively. "He'll bleed a lot, but he'll be fine. Long as he stops the blood soon."
"Where is he?" Two-Face growled.
Jones didn't want to admit that the boy had knocked him out, so he ignored the question. Hauling the villain to his feet, the officer took him to his car and shoved him in.
"I hope he doesn't stop the bleeding," Two-Face snarled as Jones started to close the door.
"I hope you shut up so I don't have to knock you out," the officer retorted.
"I hope he lives so I can find him and give him what he deserves."
"Last warning, Two-Face. As an official undercover officer, I am permitted to do whatever is necessary to take you in. So you should shut up."
"I…"
The villain's sentence was interrupted when the fist of Officer Jones sent him tumbling into unconsciousness.
In an alley near downtown Gotham, Robin was tearing off his homemade cape and wadding it into a ball. Pressing it hard against his head, the ten-year-old tried to decide where to go next. Home, to get his head looked at by Alfred, or to the Gotham City Library, where Clock King would undoubtedly go to peruse – and steal – the collection of rare clocks on display.
Robin was slightly dizzy, but Clock King shouldn't be too hard to take care of. The ten-year-old decided he would go home after that, leaving everyone else in the capable hands of Batman. The Gotham City Library was only three blocks away, he might as well check it out.
He removed his cape from his wound and gently touched the area. His fingers came back mostly dry, so he grabbed his bike and climbed on. A familiar roar echoed from the next street over as Robin gently rolled out of the alley. The ten-year-old now had another decision to make: wait for Batman, or go for the villain and let Batman catch up to him. The choice was suddenly taken out of his hands.
A pair of strong arms wrapped themselves around Robin's slim waist. He was pulled off his bike and thrown over an equally strong shoulder. An easily recognizable shoulder, attached to a head covered by a cowl.
"Um, hi," Robin said meekly.
Batman remained silent as he carried his charge through the alley. When they arrived at the Batmobile, the hero dumped the ten-year-old on the passenger seat.
"Stay here," the man said gruffly. "Watch the Bat-camera monitor while I take care of Clock King. We'll discuss this," he motioned to Robin's head, "when I come back."
Suddenly there was a Bat-towel being shoved into his hands. Robin stared at it, then began wiping the blood off his arm.
"No," Batman growled, "it's for your head, kiddo. Keep it there, and let me know if anything happens."
The hero turned away and Robin flipped the switch to turn on the tiny Bat-camera monitor installed on the dashboard.
"Stay. Here."
The words echoed in the boy's ears as Batman strode down the alley and out of sight. Ten minutes later he was back, talking to Alfred on his Bat-communicator while climbing into the Batmobile.
"Call in Clock King," Batman commanded, pointing to the red Batphone in between himself and Robin.
Robin stared at him in shock while the hero continued talking to Alfred. Batman sent him a slight glare, so the ten-year-old immediately picked up the Batphone and pressed the button.
"Batman, we just booked Two-Face," Commissioner Gordon said when he answered.
"Clock King is ready to be picked up in the library," Robin stated, attempting to sound emotionless even though a thrill of victory shot through his chest at the mention of Two-Face.
"Batman, are you okay? You sound different."
Before Robin could reply, Batman grabbed the Batphone and told the commissioner that he had also secured the Mad Hatter. The two villains had been fighting over the display of rare clocks, so taking them down had been rather simple. Then he slammed the phone down and glared at his boy.
"I'm sorry," Robin sighed. "I was just…it was stupid of me, I know. Are you going to ban me again?"
"No, I'm going to give you a Bat-communicator and put a Bat-tracker on the costume Alfred is going to make for you," Batman grumbled. "I obviously can't keep you out of trouble, since you follow me no matter what. It's better for you to be Robin with me than it is for you to be Robin out on your own and nearly getting killed all the time."
"I'm sor…wait, what?!" Robin exclaimed, shock filling his voice.
"Keep the Bat-towel on your head and your questions in your mouth for now. I have no locations on the other villains, so we're going home. Don't go to sleep, I don't know what happened to your head and the last thing you need is to fall into a coma because you went to sleep with a concussion."
Batman's voice was firm, so Robin shut his mouth. The drive to the Batcave took twenty minutes. When they arrived, Batman was out of the vehicle and standing by Robin's door before the boy had even unbuckled his safety Bat-belt. The man swooped the ten-year-old off the seat, strode to the medical area, and deposited him on a table.
"What happened, young sir?" Alfred asked as he entered the medical area.
"I don't know," Robin answered truthfully.
Batman untied the boy's mask and removed it. Alfred began checking for signs of a concussion while Batman examined the wound on the small head.
BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.
Leaving Dick in Alfred's more-than-capable hands, Batman went to the Batphone.
"Yes, Commissioner?"
"Batman, one of my officers told me something rather strange. He said a young boy knocked out Two-Face."
"That's…" Batman began, but was interrupted.
"He also told me that as he was shooting to take down Two-Face, somehow the boy got in the way and the bullet probably grazed his head. So, somewhere in Gotham City there is a young boy with a bloody head. Will you please keep an eye out for him…"
"He's with me," Batman responded, then quickly hung up the phone.
In his office, Commissioner Gordon listened to the dial tone and pondered the answer. Did Batman mean 'with him' as in sitting beside him in the Batmobile, or 'with him' as in a sidekick that nobody knew about?
Meanwhile, in the Batcave, Batman took off his cowl and strode back to the medical area.
"A bullet grazed his head," Bruce stated, and Alfred nodded in acknowledgement.
"Did you…mean it?" Dick asked quietly, wincing as the old butler began cleaning the wound.
Bruce sighed and ran both hands through his sweaty hair. Alfred pretended to be completely immersed in what he was doing, but the tone in the boy's voice made him very curious.
"Dick, no matter what I do to try to keep you out of trouble, you find a way around it. Even banning you from the Batcave didn't work. So, yes, I meant it. I would much rather you find trouble with me, than find it on your own and, perhaps, not be able to handle it."
Alfred raised his eyebrows in surprise while continuing his ministrations on Dick's head.
"So…" Dick prompted when Bruce remained quiet.
"Kiddo, if we do this, you have to do exactly what I tell you to do, exactly when I tell you to do it. If I tell you to stay in the Batmobile, you stay there. If I tell you to check out the alley, you go check it. Whatever, whenever. Can I trust you to do that?"
"Yes!" Dick exclaimed, excitement dancing in his voice.
"Dick," Bruce said seriously, "this is a dangerous profession. You know that. I need to know that you will do your best to keep yourself safe. If there is anything you think you can't handle, I need you to tell me right away. Please, please, don't try to take on more than you can without backup. Bruce Wayne needs Dick Grayson more than Batman needs Robin."
"I understand," the ten-year-old replied, his tone completely serious. "Dick Grayson needs Bruce Wayne, too. That's the main reason I want to be Robin. Not because I want to be recognized as a hero, not because I want to show off any skills. I want to be Robin so I can watch your back, so I can maybe make it a little safer for Batman, a little easier for him to make it home in one piece."
Bruce sighed again, glanced at Alfred, then said, "Welcome to the team, Robin."
Both the man and the boy waited for a reaction from the butler, who was facing away from them and cleaning Dick's blood off his hands. The Batcave fell silent as Alfred began drying his hands on a towel. Bruce folded his arms across his chest, waiting for the butler to turn around and say something. Dick started chewing his bottom lip, hoping that whatever Alfred said would be in Robin's favor.
After what seemed like forever, but was actually about thirty seconds, Alfred turned around. His eyes flitted between his two charges, then landed on Bruce's dark-blue circles.
"This is not a decision to make lightly, Master Bruce," he stated. "If you do this, you cannot back out tomorrow. You cannot, in good conscious, tell the boy that he is now Batman's partner, then wake up tomorrow and say you were tired or you weren't thinking straight and that everything you said was a mistake. If you are going to do this, sir, you have to follow through."
Dick's eyes were wide in disbelief. Alfred had never talked to Bruce like that in front of him. The butler's tone was firm and unyielding, his eyes never left those of Bruce, and the expression on his face was almost as scary as a Bat-glare.
Bruce understood that expression. Alfred was telling him that if he tried to go back on what he was saying, he could very well lose Dick. His nod was almost imperceptible, and the butler was satisfied that his oldest charge understood what he was risking.
"I agree," Alfred continued, "that it would be safer for Master Robin to be with Master Batman, since he obviously intends to go out anyway."
Looking straight at Dick, the old man said, "But please, Master Dick, try not to do anything rash and try to follow the instructions of a man who has many years of experience. Try to cultivate that tiny seed of self-preservation that I know is in there somewhere, young sir. I would much rather have both of you back in one piece."
Dick nodded solemnly and the three of them stared at each other. Suddenly, Dick jumped off the table and threw himself into Bruce's arms. The man returned the hug before pulling away and crouching in front of the boy.
"I need you to train harder than you ever have. I need you to be stronger than you are right now. I need you…"
"I practice in my room when I can't go to sleep," Dick blurted out.
Bruce stared for a moment, surprised by the interruption, then chuckled.
"I'm sure you do, chum. Will you give me your word that you will follow my instructions, especially when we are in the field?"
"I swear I will do my best to follow your instructions, all the time," Dick replied. "So…does this make me a sidekick?"
"Most people will probably think of you that way," Bruce responded. "I prefer to think of you as my partner. But, most importantly, I see you as my son. And keeping my son safe is the most important thing in the world to me. So if I have to turn you into a tiny crime-fighter in order to do that…"
There was a pause, and then Bruce sighed for the third time in the conversation.
"So be it."
There was another pause, and then Dick said, "What's our team name?"
His giant smile lit up the entire Batcave and both men chuckled.
"How about Batman and Robin?" Bruce asked.
"Well, yeah, that's who we are," Dick replied. "But what's our team name?"
"Master Dick, that's a conversation for another time," Alfred said. "Right now is the time for bed, young sir."
"Besides, the citizens of Gotham City are good at coming up with nicknames. I'm sure they'll give us something soon," Bruce stated.
Sure enough, three month later most Gothamites knew Batman and Robin as 'The Dynamic Duo'. Batman's 'Caped Crusader' now had a sidekick – Robin, the 'Boy Wonder'.
Like a Phoenix, Dick Grayson rose from the ashes, emerging stronger than he had been before that disastrous night at the circus. From the ashes of disaster, Robin was born.
THE END
Final note: Thanks to everyone for sticking with me until the end. Sorry for the delays, and hiatuses, and all the other stuff that kept this story from being completely published. A special thanks to everyone who commented. Thanks for the encouragement and help. And, again to everyone, thanks for reading! :)