Note: Thanks for letting me know you like it, usagipoints! :)
Batman heard someone yelling for help. The voice was familiar but there was nobody in the room. His head was clearing and the effects of the gas were finally wearing off.
"What?!" he answered the disembodied voice.
There was a pounding sound and then a piece of metal dropped to the floor near the opposite wall. Batman could move his head and a little bit of his shoulders. He looked up and was surprised to see a small shadow sliding out of the resulting hole in the ceiling. It draped itself over something – a rafter, maybe – and whatever that thing was groaned in protest. The shadow mumbled something indistinct and then flipped itself over its own head and grabbed a swaying object.
The hero squinted, attempting to see what was happening. He recognized his utility belt and estimated that it was about twenty feet in the air. Which meant that the shadow was now precariously hanging nineteen feet in the air, and the only thing keeping him there was his grip on Batman's belt.
"Who are you?" Batman yelled. "You need to climb back up, you're going to fall!"
Some of the many clouds floating throughout his brain burst apart and Robin blinked his eyes. And discovered that he was about to fall. How had he ended up like this?! His plan had been to reach over and grab the utility belt, not hang on it!
Batman, the boy recognized the voice, was yelling at him. Something about falling and Robin heard the word 'who' at the beginning. Who was he? Dick Grayson, last of the Flying Graysons, and he was about to die just like his parents had. But he couldn't tell that to Batman because…no matter what.
"Robin," he called down as one of his hands slipped off the belt.
The Caped Crusader watched one of the shadow's hands drop and heard the word 'robin'. Where had he heard that before?
"You need to pull yourself up! Use both hands, my utility belt can hold you."
He's certainly small enough, but it won't hold for long.
His parents were waiting for him. They were on the ground, staring up at him and waiting for Dick to join them. Their blood was spreading away from their bodies, toward a man that was frozen to his spot.
"Watch out for the blood!" Robin yelled. "They're dead, aren't they? I can't see for sure, just tell me!"
Batman gaped at him. Robin. Dick had said 'Robin out' before turning off the Bat-communicator. And the shadow hanging from Batman's utility belt was asking for confirmation of death. Which meant that the kid about to fall nineteen feet, to his death, was Dick Grayson.
"What are you doing here?!" the man demanded loudly.
"I'm supposed to be, we're performing, don't you know who I am?!"
There was a beat of silence and then the voice was stronger.
"Rescuing you, of course. You're the one that got frozen in a block of ice and then doused with fear gas!"
Batman suddenly noticed the blood on the ice and could feel it sliding down his cheeks. He remembered the words of the villains, that he was going to beat his head against the ice as part of his struggle to get out. And here he was, bloody and probably concussed and watching his ward dangling from the ceiling.
"Pull yourself up, kiddo! You're strong, pull yourself up!"
The Caped Crusader heard the panic in his voice and was upset with himself. Forcing the emotion away, he took a deep breath in order to calm down.
"Just grab onto the belt and pull," he stated steadily. "You can climb up, it can hold your weight. But I need you to do it now."
Robin was staring down at Batman. This was it, this was how it was going to end. He didn't have the strength to pull himself up, not with the way his ribs were yelling at him.
"It's just like climbing the rope, chum!" the hero shouted. "Hand over hand."
"Did you know it takes thirty minutes to ride a bike into Gotham City?" Robin remarked casually. "And then another ten or so to find a place to hide it and then another fifteen or so to walk from there to here?"
"No, but I need you to focus on this right now. The Batmobile is right outside, I'll take you home in that. But first you need to climb up."
"I'm tired," the boy sighed.
"No, you're not!" Batman growled. "You are perfectly fine and you are going to do as I say right now. CLIMB!" he commanded.
"They fell, I'm about to fall, it all works out in the end, I guess."
"YOU ARE NOT GOING TO FALL!" Batman roared. "BECAUSE YOU ARE GOING TO GET YOUR OTHER HAND UP THERE AND YOU ARE GOING TO CLIMB!"
"I could just let go and we could be done. You wouldn't have to yell anymore, I wouldn't be tired anymore. It would be easier for both of us."
"WHAT?!" the man exploded. "No, D…Robin, you are not giving up. You have never given up and you're not going to now. You are too strong to give up."
"I just said it would be easier," the boy mumbled as he threw his other hand up to grab the belt.
Slowly, hand over hand, Robin climbed. To Batman, it was three years instead of twenty seconds and he breathed a sigh of relief when the boy was finally sitting on the beam.
"However you got in, go out the same way," the hero commanded.
"Belt, you need your belt, I need a belt, everyone needs a belt!" Robin nearly screamed. "I'm going to die, right here and now, all because of a belt!"
"No, kiddo, you're not!" Batman shouted, struggling to keep his voice even. "Forget the belt, just go up into the ventilation shaft and crawl out of there. The belt doesn't matter."
"The belt always matters!" Robin yelled.
Fear gas, obviously. Dick had received a dose of fear gas but, somehow, had been able to escape the villain's grasp and was attempting to get the utility belt so he could use the Bat-tools to free Batman.
"We're not going to argue about this right now. Get your tiny body in that shaft and crawl out!" the man commanded.
"Stop, please," the boy cried out. "I'm sorry, I don't know, please don't!"
"The Australian," Batman growled.
"I won't run anymore!" the ten-year-old yelled desperately.
"Wickers," the hero snarled.
"You killed them!" Robin shouted in the direction of Batman.
The beam wobbled slightly and the boy did also. The Caped Crusader tried to flex his hands or wiggle his shoulders or do something at least somewhat helpful to get himself out of this mess. Dick was about to be consumed by the fear gas and he would probably topple right off the beam when it completely took over his mind. But Batman was stuck, frozen solid with no way to get out. Unless he used the Bat-laser, which was in the utility belt that was twenty feet above him and two feet below a terrified ten-year-old.
That ten-year-old suddenly draped himself over the beam again. He grabbed the belt, yanked it off whatever was holding it up there and clambered back onto the beam. Shoving the belt up into the shaft, Robin climbed in after it and disappeared from view.
Three seconds later the boy was frantically yelling about dirt and alive and stop and help and alive and please and then his voice faded as he traveled farther away.
"Parents, Wickers, Australian, Mack, Jasper and being buried alive," Batman stated.
Now he knew six of Dick's worst fears and none of them surprised him. Except the last one, he hadn't known that his boy was terrified of being buried alive.
Suddenly that boy was tumbling down the stairs, fear on his face and utility belt in hand. His entire body was trembling and his breathing was more like gasping. Robin's eyes were wildly darting around, searching for the danger he knew was waiting in the shadows.
"D…Robin, come here, chum," Batman demanded.
The boy looked at him, glanced at the utility belt, then looked up again and raced across the room.
"What do I do, I can't do this, please don't be mad, I'll do better next time, I'm sorry…"
"Sh, kiddo, calm down," the man stated. "You need to open the third pocket to the left of the buckle. There are some Bat-pills in there. Take out the green one and chew it up."
"O…okay," the boy mumbled.
His hands were shaking and he had trouble opening the clasp on the pocket. It took Robin eleven seconds but he was finally able to reach in and pull out a small handful of Bat-pills. Batman stared at them in dismay. Blue, red, orange, white and purple. But not green.
"He must have known, he must have taken it," the hero murmured.
Robin was panicking now. Shadows were merging together and beginning to surround him. Everything was going wrong.
"Hey, chum, look at me," Batman said quietly. "I'm here, nothing is going to happen to you right now. Look at me."
Robin stared at the hero, eyes wide with terror and full of unshed tears.
"There's…there's no green," he whispered, dropping the belt and the Bat-pills.
"I know, but we can get through this. I need you to go to the first pocket on the right. There's a Bat-laser and you can use it to melt the ice. Then we can get out of here and go to the Batcave."
"Why are you so calm!" Robin shouted. "They're coming and they're not going to be happy! I'm in so much trouble and you're just standing there!"
"I'm frozen in a block of ice, kiddo, I can't move. Just get the Bat-laser and melt me out and everything will be fine."
"No, it won't."
Batman's eyes widened and Robin whirled around. Scarecrow was standing at the top of the stairs, hands on his hips and anger in his voice.
"So, Batman," the villain said as he started down the stairs, "who is this kid? Obviously someone you know, since he came to attempt to rescue you."
Robin backed up, tripped over the utility belt and hit the ground hard. His head bounced off the floor and his eyes slid closed.
"Oh, dear, I must have scared him," Scarecrow laughed.
"Leave him alone," Batman growled.
"Well, I can't exactly do that. He could wake up and rescue you. It's a good thing I left that second vial of my extra-strength fear gas outside the door. The kid might have been able to help you if not for that."
Scarecrow walked over to the prone body on the floor. He stared at Batman as he passed. A grin manifested itself on his face.
"You really did beat yourself up. I didn't think it would actually happen. What did you see that made you struggle so hard that you hit your head on the ice so many times?"
"Leave him alone," Batman repeated, ignoring the question.
"I like the thought of experimenting on a kid," the villain mused. "It would enable me to see the strength of my concoctions in real time. Then I wouldn't have to guess the dose when I finally use it on you."
"If you touch him…"
"What, you'll get me?" Scarecrow taunted. "By the time that ice melts, we'll be long gone. Since you're not dead, I'm leaving Gotham City. And I'm taking him with me."
The villain bent down and scooped the boy into his arms.
"You will never regret anything more than what you are doing right now," Batman threatened darkly. "He is a child."
"I can see that," Scarecrow replied, rolling his eyes. "And you'll never find me unless I choose to come back and find you."
With that, he turned toward the stairs and strode across the room. The villain climbed the stairs, then abruptly stopped. Batman watched in astonishment as Scarecrow stumbled and then fell backwards down the stairs. He landed on his back, and the limp body of Dick Grayson flew out of his arms and slid across the room.
The only way to get out of this trouble, Robin decided, was to go to sleep. So, he closed his eyes, stared at the horrible images flashing through his mind, and hoped it would be over soon. In some tiny part in the back of his brain, he could hear Batman telling him about fear gas and Scarecrow and hallucinations. Another tiny part told him that he needed the Bat-laser and he couldn't get it if he didn't have the utility belt.
Batman was growling and Scarecrow was laughing and Robin knew they were talking about him. A plan began to form, even as he watched Mr. Mack shoot his parents and Michael Wickers begin beating him with a tire iron. Then Mr. Jerkins began beating Bruce Wayne to a pulp as Robin felt himself being lifted into the air.
Someone was carrying him and the boy was pretty sure it was the villain. Batman had no way out unless he had a Bat-laser, which he didn't because it was in the utility belt that Robin had stupidly dropped on the floor. His body began bouncing slightly and he recognized the feeling. A long time ago, Bruce had done the same thing: carried him up some stairs.
Actually, now that Dick thought about it, Bruce had done that more than just once a long time ago. Bruce was always doing things for him, always helping him, and how was Dick repaying the man? By doing absolutely nothing. Right now, at this very moment, Bruce needed him and Dick was doing nothing.
Robin flipped his eyes open and waited. They made it to the top of the stairs and the boy flung his right leg out. His foot landed on the door jamb and he shoved it off. Scarecrow stumbled slightly then fell backwards and hit the ground hard. Robin was thrown out of the man's grip and he quietly gasped as he slid painfully across the floor.
The ten-year-old's head hit the ice block and he stared up at the surprised face of Batman. That face morphed into Jasper's face and Robin jumped to his feet with a wince.
"The belt," Batman reminded him, glancing over at Scarecrow.
"Yes, sir," Robin whispered.
Reaching down, the boy grabbed the utility belt and held it out to Batman.
"D…Robin, I can't do anything with it," the man nearly growled impatiently. "Open the first pocket on the right and find the Bat-laser."
"Yes, sir."
Batman shook his head in frustration and wished that Jasper really was here so he could beat the man to a pulp.
"Is this it, sir?"
"Enough with the 'sir', chum," Batman stated. "Yes, that's it. Point the red end at the ice and then push the black button on the other end."
Robin nodded and did as instructed. The ice slowly began melting. Not fast enough, Batman silently growled as he noticed Scarecrow sit up.
Scarecrow carefully moved his head from side to side and let out a low moan. The sound startled Robin and his thumb slipped off the button. Glancing back, the boy saw the villain attempting to get to his feet.
"Here," a semi-lucid Robin whispered as he shoved the Bat-laser at Batman. "You keep doing this and I'll keep him occupied."
"Kiddo," Batman began but stopped when he felt the smooth tool slide into his right hand.
"You're smart," the man whispered as the boy turned away.
Batman had assumed that Dick was just trying to melt any part of the ice away. But Robin had been concentrating the beam on the ice covering the man's right hand. And that hand was now almost completely free.
Robin saw Mr. Jerkins shoot Bruce Wayne in the head and then Michael shoved both Bruce and Dick into a deep hole. Laughing, he and Dirk began throwing dirt on top of the man's cold, dead body and Dick's very alive and terrified body.
"NOOOOOOOO!" Robin screamed, startling both men.
Scarecrow took the opportunity to punch the boy in the chest and then began to swing a fist at his face. Robin stumbled as the wind was knocked out of him but automatically threw his left arm up to block the hit that was supposed to land on his jaw. He immediately drove his right fist straight up, a quick jab that hit the villain on the edge of his chin.
Batman, meanwhile, was working on the ice around his feet. He was attempting to ignore the sounds of the fight in front of him because he couldn't do anything about it right now anyway. Glancing up, he was surprised to see that Dick was holding his own. Quickly refocusing his attention on keeping the Bat-laser steady, the hero silently commanded the ice to melt faster.
Scarecrow wasn't the most ferocious fighter – in fact, he wasn't very good at all – but he was almost a foot taller than the ten-year-old. His fists could fly down or sideways, while those of Robin could only go up. The boy was exhausted and hallucinating and scared and in pain and ready to go to sleep.
"Hold on, chum, just a little longer," Batman said quietly.
The hero could feel the change in the atmosphere. Dick was too tired, too terrified, and probably in a lot of pain. He was close to breaking down, but Batman was so close to breaking free.
Scarecrow took a step closer and landed a punishing blow to the side of the boy's head. Batman glanced up when he heard the 'thud'. Dick was on the ground, on his back and not moving, and the villain was standing over the small body, rubbing his sore jaw.
"Let's see who you are," Scarecrow muttered, kneeling down.
He reached for the strip of material covering the boy's eyes but suddenly Batman was there. Hero tackled villain and the two men traded punches. But Scarecrow's fighting skills were weak and it only took Batman eight seconds to end the fight.
The Caped Crusader turned to Dick…Robin…who was steadily breathing but not moving. Actually, the man noticed as he knelt down, the boy's entire body was minutely trembling. Robin…Dick…was still in the depths of a fear-gas-induced hallucination. Batman decided he wasn't going to just sit there and wait to find out what was going on in the boy's mind. They needed Alfred, and the fear gas antidote stored in the Batcave.
Batman scooped the boy up, grabbed his utility belt and strode to the Batmobile. He glanced at Dick's face as he settled him on the passenger seat. At least the boy had been smart enough to attempt a disguise. Even if it was just a strip of black material from Alfred's scrap basket in the laundry room.
The hero climbed in and opened the Bat-communicator.
"Is everything okay, sir?"
"Well…" Batman hesitated.
"Well what, sir?!" Alfred exclaimed.
"I'm intact with a concussion. I think I should explain when I return. Please have the antidote to Scarecrow's fear gas ready. Maybe cut it in half."
"Cut it in…what is going on, sir?!"
"I, um…well, Robin's here and since his body is so much smaller we probably shouldn't give him the regular dose."
The explanation rushed from Batman's mouth and Alfred's eyes widened.
"Ro…Robin, sir?!" the butler nearly shouted. "Please don't tell me that a young person that I know is sitting beside you."
"No, he's more like lying beside me. On my way, be there in fifteen."
Batman quickly closed the line and started the engine. It would take too long to explain everything via Bat-communicator. And Dick needed the Bat-pill and a lot of Bat-ice.
"Robin," the man growled, thinking his ward was still unconscious. "You shouldn't have done this. I can take care of myself."
"And you were doing such a great job," the boy mumbled sarcastically.
"I was riding it out. I was going to be fine," the man protested.
"Yeah, 'cuz bleeding to death from banging your head against ice totally means you're going to be fine," the ten-year-old whispered, a touch of exasperation in his tone.
"You're in trouble."
"I always am."
"What? No, you…"
"How's your head?" Robin interrupted.
"Fine," the Caped Crusader grumbled.
He glanced at his passenger. The boy's eyes were still closed and his face was pale.
"How's your head, chum?"
"Not fine."
Suddenly, his eyes flew open and he sat up.
"They're coming back," he whispered frantically. "They're coming back with the dirt!"
Batman glanced at him again. The boy's eyes were wildly darting around, like they had been at the theater, and his breathing was turning into gasping.
"We're…" the man began.
"Nononono, you're dead, he shot you and you're dead and I don't want to die this way!" the ten-year-old nearly screamed.
"Calm…"
"I'm sorry! Don't do it, I don't remember!"
"It's…"
"NO! I can't climb out anyway! You don't have to pour it down, I won't leave!"
"Dick…"
"I'll break my other one! Nobody can climb out of a twelve-feet deep hole with two broken legs!"
The ten-year-old suddenly slammed his fist onto his knee. Batman grabbed his arm before he could do it again. Holding Dick's wrist with one hand, the hero sped up. He really needed that Bat-pill.
Eight minutes later they were in the Batcave. Alfred was staring at them in shock. All he had heard for the last ten seconds was a steady, loud, wailing cry of terror. Ten seconds was the amount of time it took to cruise down the tunnel and park after entering the secret entrance to the Batcave. And the first thing he saw was the copious amount of drying blood on the head and face of Batman.
The screaming had actually been going on for the last three minutes and Batman was really hoping that Alfred had already sliced the Bat-pill in half.
Dick's body was rigid and his eyes were squeezed shut. Batman picked him up and the boy's limbs began flailing around, almost causing the hero to drop him. Readjusting his grip, Batman strode to where Alfred was waiting and laid Dick on the table.
"Dick, chum, calm down," the younger man stated wearily. "We can't give you the antidote if you're screaming your lungs out."
"Master Batman, I remember you doing the same thing the first time you received a dose of fear gas. You go change, I'll get the antidote in his system, sir."
"What would I do without you?" Batman mumbled as he walked away.
"Master Dick," Alfred said softly, "listen to me, please. You are home, Bruce is safe, you are completely intact, and you are having a very realistic nightmare. I need you to take this Bat-pill, young sir. The sooner you do, the sooner the nightmare will end."
Dick stopped screaming and Alfred slipped the Bat-pill in his mouth. The effects were almost immediate.
"Did I save him?" the boy asked softly.
Alfred, with a deep frown, replied, "Yes, Master Dick. But you should not have done it."
"He was frozen solid and banging his head around. He was going to die, Alfred."
"No, Dick, I would have been fine," Bruce stated as he joined them at the medical table. "The gas had left my system by the time you grabbed my utility belt and the ice would have completely melted eventually."
"Eventually," the ten-year-old repeated. "Scarecrow came back before you were even a quarter of the way unfrozen. He would have killed you himself!"
"Scarecrow is not a killer."
"Then he would have given you more fear gas and you would have killed yourself!"
"He probably didn't have any more vials, since he had used one on me and left one by the basement door."
"Probably, Bruce, is not the same as definitely. There was absolutely no way for you to know for sure whether or not he had more hiding somewhere in his clothes or on his body."
Bruce changed the direction of the conversation by saying, "You could have died, Dick."
"But I didn't, and we weren't talking about me," the boy stated as he sat up and removed the black strip of material from his face.
"Weren't, but now we are," the man replied. "You deliberately disobeyed both Alfred and myself. You are untrained, naïve, young and have no sense of self-preservation. You could have been killed."
"So train me. Teach me what I need to know so I can be better prepared next time."
"There is not going to be a 'next time', Dick."
"Let me tell you something."
"No, Dick, this conversation is over. There is not, and there never will be, a 'next time'."
"They were going to come back. I heard them talking."
"You were in a room with three villains and you escaped?!" Bruce exclaimed.
"They hadn't caught me, I found a way in and heard them talking. I know their plan, well, part of it anyway."
"They have an actual plan?" Bruce asked in surprise.
"Yep. I don't know the whole thing but I do know that something is going to happen at the power station. And it's going to happen tonight. And, after it's in motion, they're going to come back and check on you. But they'll only find Scarecrow."
"He won't be there," Bruce declared dismissively. "I already called the commissioner."
"The ice wouldn't have melted in time, Bruce. We both know that but you won't admit it. Because if you admit that, you'll have to admit that I helped you. And if you admit that I helped you, you'll have to admit that having a part…no, sidekick, could be useful, especially in dire situations that require certain athletic skills."
"I wasn't in a dire situation," the man grumbled.
"Oh, so you're saying that after the ice melted – which wouldn't have been before the villains came back – you would have been able to climb twenty feet in the air in order to retrieve your utility belt?" Dick asked incredulously. "Or perhaps you would have been able to fit your body into the ventilation shaft and crawl from the vent in the roof all the way to the grate over the basement. And after doing that, you would have been able to lower your muscular body onto a creaking beam three feet under that grate and then grab your utility belt that was two feet under that. However, that beam probably wouldn't have held your weight, which means that your muscular body would have fallen twenty feet and crashed into the cement, which is lower than the height my parents fell from, but still plenty high enough to kill you. So, even if the ice had melted in time – which we both know it wouldn't have – you would still be dead."
Shock was racing through Alfred's eyes but a slight smirk appeared on his face. Dick had just justified to Bruce why Batman needed Robin. And it was an airtight explanation. Alfred hadn't been there, of course, but obviously the boy had accomplished something that the hero wouldn't have been able to do. The athleticism and size of a ten-year-old who called himself Robin had saved the life of the protector of Gotham City named Batman. And the butler knew Batman was going to do his best to refuse to admit that.
"I didn't need to retrieve my utility belt, I have extras here," Bruce growled.
"Of course," Dick stated, a touch of sarcasm in his tone. "Because Batman would totally leave his utility belt hanging around for any old villain to steal and use. We all know that Batman isn't paranoid at all so he wouldn't have cared about leaving the belt."
"Nobody could get up there and get my belt!" the man exclaimed.
"Except," the boy countered with a smirk, "me."
"I mean no villain, or criminal or anybody else!"
"Unless that villain was strong enough to stack crates – like Bane – or could use vines to grab objects – like Poison Ivy – or could use a laser-like beam to control the mind of a strong person – like the one in Mad Hatter's hat – or could shoot a ray of…"
"Okay, you've made your point," Bruce interrupted rudely.
"Batman needs Robin, that's my point."
"Bruce Wayne needs Dick Grayson, and I refuse to allow you to chase after dangerous villains! You could be hurt or killed and I wouldn't be able to get over that."
"Then train me. I admit that right now I would probably lose a fight and get severely injured or, yes, killed. But right now I've only had defensive training. Let me learn offense and I'll be able to take care of myself. Even Dr. Thompkins said that!"
That comment surprised Alfred. He hadn't heard about that conversation and wondered how it had come up.
"Scarecrow knocked you out twice."
"Once."
"You were unconscious on the floor twice."
"Huh, I fooled you, too," Dick said, surprise in his voice and on his face.
"Fooled me?"
"I closed my eyes and started trying to find a way out of the situation. You were stuck; there was no way you were going to get us out in time."
"But you had fear gas in your system."
"Yes, and I was freaking out the entire time. But, I was also hearing you telling me about the effects of fear gas and was hoping that what I was seeing were really just hallucinations."
"Which they were, but you were still completely out of it."
"No, I was biding my time. I didn't think he would carry me away, I just got lucky. My foot happened to hit the door jamb at the right second and I pushed us down the stairs."
"Just 'happened'?"
"Well, it was planned but I had to guess the location. I had opened my eyes but couldn't turn to look, of course."
"Of course," Bruce muttered.
"Did you see me hit him in the chin?" Dick asked excitedly. "I think it was hard enough to give him a bruise."
"I was using the Bat-laser so no, I didn't see it," the man grumbled. "Yes, he had a bruise. You should go up to the Manor now. I have things to do. Get some Bat-ice first."
Bruce's tone had a note of finality and Dick's face fell. He had done and said everything he could to convince the man to let him help. With a sigh – he would have to continue to be patient – the boy turned around and went to the service elevator. Bruce waited until he heard the whirring of the machine before looking at Alfred.
"He used the Bat-laser on my hand, Alfred! He knew Scarecrow would get up before the ice would be completely melted."
"It seems to me that you have a lot to think about, Master Bruce."
Holding up his hands, Bruce began ticking things off on his fingers.
"He made a mask, rode his bike to Gotham, had a codename ready to protect my identity, stopped me from continually smashing my head onto a block of ice, crawled through a ventilation shaft, saved my utility belt after nearly falling because of fear-gas-induced hallucinations, tricked both a villain and a hero, knocked Scarecrow out long enough to get the Bat-laser going, melted the ice off a useful part of me, kept Scarecrow occupied just long enough for me to get out of a solid block of ice, and did all of it while screaming in terror and calling out for help!"
"He is quite a remarkable child, sir."
"Buried alive, Alfred. One of his worst fears is being buried alive but he crawled through a tiny metal shaft that probably felt like a coffin in order to get the belt. He was terrified of the belt, and terrified of falling, but he did it all anyway."
"Master Dick, it seems, would do anything for you, Master Bruce."
"You're smirking," Bruce stated angrily.
"I don't 'smirk', sir," the butler replied formally.
"You are, and it's your way of saying, 'I told you so'."
"Well, Master Bruce, I did advise you to remember my words, did I not?"
"He's ten, Alfred!"
"He is also intelligent, observant, determined, brave, athletic, a naturally-talented fighter, and can withstand many things, sir. It is, of course, up to you to determine how to handle this situation. Whatever you decide, Master Bruce, I will stand behind you, as I always have and always will."
Bruce sighed and ran a hand down his face.
"He's ten," the man mumbled to himself.
Note: Just so you know, Batman later called the commissioner and they caught the villains at the power station. :)