A/N: Thanks for the comments, finalotte!
Chapter 3:
The Batmobile sped into the Batcave and coasted to a stop. Batman climbed out and immediately removed his cowl. The night air was stifling, and his entire head was dripping with sweat. Drops of the salty liquid were assaulting his eyes, blurring his vision, so he quickly strode to the Bat-changing area and grabbed a Bat-towel. He heard a quiet creak as he was wiping his face. Instantly dropping the small Bat-towel, the Caped Crusader crept out of the changing room and visually examined the entire Batcave.
His gaze was focused on the Batpoles when he heard a second creak. Stepping completely away from the Bat-changing area, he visually swept the entire cave again. There was movement in the far corner, where the acrobatic equipment was located. Robin wouldn't blatantly disobey a direct order, would he? Batman received his answer when he saw a flash of gold – his partner's cape.
Fury filled his body. Robin had recognized the danger during their previous conversation but now here he was, swinging around the bar faster than Batman had ever seen him swing. The Boy Wonder suddenly let go and horror replaced the fury in the Caped Crusader's chest. Robin had enough height for a quadruple but not enough momentum for even a double. The boy's knees were sloppily bent and his arms were hanging out in the air. Instead of the tightly tucked ball that Batman was used to seeing, Robin looked like a free-falling spoonful of jelly.
Everything seemed to slow down as the older crime-fighter tried to sprint his way across the Batcave. His feet felt like they were made of concrete and the Batcave seemed to grow longer as he ran. He wasn't getting closer; he wasn't even moving! The younger crime-fighter was about to land on his head and there was nothing Batman could do about it.
A pair of gray, glassy eyes turned light-blue as Robin's brain regained the upper hand. Those same eyes widened when he saw the ground rushing up to meet him. His limbs were flying recklessly around, and he wondered why he hadn't tucked. The high bar laughed at him as he passed, and Robin became irritated. He reached out his left hand to slap the offending object but, at the last second, chose to grab it instead.
A gasp was torn from his throat as the teenager was yanked out of his free-fall. The momentum swung him around the bar again and his hand almost slipped off. Only the strength from years of training kept him there as he slowly swung to a stop. With a sigh of relief, Robin let go and fell limply to the floor.
"Robin!" Batman slid to a stop and quickly dropped to his knees. He was relieved to see his partner's eyes open and clear. The boy's breathing was slightly erratic but that was to be expected since he had almost fallen to his death.
"What were you thinking?!" the man demanded, fury again rising to the surface. "You could have died! You agreed to stay on the ground but here you are, disregarding not only a direct instruction but also your own safety! Are you some kind of…"
Luckily, Batman realized what he was about to say and managed to shut his mouth. Robin was not, never had been and never would be an idiot. The boy could be reckless, but he was one of the most intelligent teenagers that Batman had ever known. Also, saying something like that could have damaging repercussions that might never be resolved.
The Boy Wonder was staring up at him, fear filling his young face. His eyes were wide with apprehension and his body was tense. Batman took a deep breath and pushed the fury away. Robin was alive, seemingly uninjured and the consequences of his actions could be discussed tomorrow.
"The voice, Batman," Robin stated with terror in the tone. "I heard it again. It told me to…to…"
"To what?" the Caped Crusader demanded.
"To swing from a tree branch, do some flips and aim for the ground with my head!" Robin's voice was trembling noticeably, and Batman's jaw dropped open in shock. "I tried to stop it, I swear. I didn't want to, I tried to find you, I couldn't stop it. He can control me, Batman! Whenever he wants to and wherever I am, he can make me do anything and I can't stop it!"
Robin was nearly screaming now, and Batman placed a hand on the boy's chest in an attempt to calm him down. The other hand he ran through his own hair. This voice, and the substance it had fed to Robin, was now priority number one. It had to be taken care of immediately and he knew he couldn't risk leaving the teenager alone for long periods of time.
"Okay," the older hero released the breath he didn't realize he had been holding. "We're going to…"
"Don't," Robin interrupted. "Don't tell me that we're going to figure this out. Saying it again doesn't help anything. I'm scared, Batman, really scared! The voice is going to succeed; for some reason it wants me dead and it's going to find a way!"
Speechless was not a word that usually applied to the Caped Crusader. However, the hero had just been rendered speechless. His strong, capable, and tough young partner had just confessed that he was really scared. Robin never admitted that; not even when he was kidnapped by Joker!
"Sorry," the teenager muttered. "I, uh, shouldn't have interrupted you and I shouldn't have any doubts. I mean, you're Batman! The World's Greatest Detective and the smartest man I know. It's idiotic," he looked pointedly into Batman's eyes, "for me to be scared. Sorry."
"We. Will. Figure. This. Out." Each word was crisp, strong and full of confidence. Batman was anything but confident right now but there was no need for his terrified partner to know that.
"Right," Robin whispered. He removed Batman's hand, stood up and walked to his Batpole. His body was slumped in dejection and Batman detected a slight shudder in the lithe frame.
Standing up as Robin disappeared into the Manor via his Batpole, the Caped Crusader strode to the Bat-computer and re-entered all the information he had already given it. He was not going to sleep until this problem had been solved. If he did, Robin might somehow die, and he was not going to allow that to happen. Alfred needed to know, also, and Batman made a mental note to tell his butler in the morning.
Ding.
Apparently, adding the information about Robin's near-death experience had helped the Bat-computer come up with an answer. Batman grabbed the card from the exit slot and stared at it in disbelief. The green gas was identified as humatronic poison, whatever that was, and the person who had put it in Robin's system was…Bruce Wayne?!
Somewhere in Gotham City:
The short, thin man with the salt-and-pepper hair frowned. The connection had been broken but he knew the Boy Wonder was still alive. He reluctantly admitted to himself that the kid was strong. Robin should not be able to resist the potent formula, especially since he had been exposed to it for nearly four hours!
The sidekick had automatically fought against the man's commanding voice. Control had gone back and forth between the man and the boy. Just when the criminal had begun to think that he was winning, Robin's resilient mind had overpowered the man's control and severed the connection.
He pounded his fist, wrinkled and spotted with age, on the table in frustration. This was going to be harder than he thought. Killing Robin wasn't the ultimate goal; he wanted Batman to feel pain. The pain of not being able to protect someone close to you. Forever having to live with the thought that you should have done more: been more careful in your observations, examined your surroundings more thoroughly, made sure to have a weapon handy. Always knowing that if you had been a little quicker or a little closer, that person would still be alive.
"It will happen, Batman. Your kid won't be able to repel me forever. His death is imminent, as is your eternal pain, and there's nothing you can do to prevent it."
Turning his attention back to the blue computer monitor, the man pushed several buttons on the keyboard and waited. Words slowly began appearing:
machine, educate, adjunct, compartment, disregard, allergic, nibor.a.
Nibor.a?!
Well, he had the clues. Now he just had to figure out how to put the words together. What happened next depended on his ability to make sense of the random words.
Wayne Enterprises – early morning:
Bruce Wayne was sitting in his office at his large, ornate desk. His elbows were resting on the cherry-colored wood, his fingers steepled together and his mouth turned down in a frown. The millionaire was lost in his thoughts and didn't even hear his door open.
"Uh, Bruce?" a quiet voice gently pulled him away from his musings and he looked up. Dick was standing in the doorway, chewing on his bottom lip and looking uncertain.
"Come on in, Dick. What's wrong?"
Accepting the invitation, the teenager took one step inside and closed the door.
"I, um, saw the card. In the…you know. You should, uh, have a better hiding place if you don't want me to find something."
A slight grin accompanied the last sentence but quickly disappeared as the boy dropped his eyes to the ground.
Bruce grimaced. The card had given his name as the perpetrator and, instead of tearing it up and throwing it away, he had tried to hide it. It wasn't smart, he had to admit that, because how could he hide something from the boy who had been trained by the World's Greatest Detective?
"So…I've been poisoned," Dick continued in a whisper. "That's, um, unfortunate."
Standing up and striding over to his ward, Bruce put a firm hand on the boy's shoulder. Dick flinched and the man almost removed his hand but decided against it. He locked the door with his other hand and pulled his ward farther into the room.
"You know it wasn't me, right?" Bruce asked calmly when he decided they were in a spot where they wouldn't be overheard.
"Yeah," Dick mumbled, still sounding a little unsure. "It's just, um…" he trailed off, not knowing how to express himself.
"Just what, Dick?"
Shifting uncomfortably from one foot to the other, and refusing to meet his guardian's eyes, Dick asked, "Why would the Bat-computer give us your name?! I mean, is there another Bruce Wayne in this world? I only know one so I would really like to meet the other one; the one that can control my MIND!" The boy's voice was rising the entire time and he was yelling by the time he finished.
The man wanted to wrap the boy in his arms and attempt to shield him from everything that was happening. But Dick had taken a step back, causing Bruce's hand to drop off the small shoulder.
"I would never…why would you think…this is outrageous! Dick, you're my ward and partner; why would I ever do anything like that?!"
"So, there's another Bruce Wayne then, right?" The teenager was staring into the man's dark-blue eyes, tears shining in his light-blue ones.
"The Bat-computer made a mistake. It still doesn't have much…"
"IT DOESN'T MAKE MISTAKES!" the boy thundered then dropped his head again. "Sorry," he whispered.
"Dick, I don't know what to tell you. Maybe something is wrong with the inner workings of the machine."
"I already checked it, several times," Dick stated softly. "Nothing is wrong."
"Well…" Bruce shook his head and grimaced, trying to come up with something.
"Do you have codes?" the boy raised his head and abruptly changed the subject.
"Codes?" Bruce was startled by the seemingly random question and he stared at his ward blankly.
"Yeah, you know, for using office machines and opening locked doors and things like that. Do you use codes?"
"We have a unique code for every person in the building. There are no individual machine or door codes. It makes it easier; you don't have to remember fifteen different codes in order to get somewhere. If your personal code is cleared to enter my office, for example, then you simply type in your code at the door. No clearance means no access."
"Oh." There was a long pause. Dick's gaze was fixated on the wall behind Bruce and the man could almost see the wheels spinning rapidly in the boy's intelligent mind.
"Do I have a code?"
"No. You don't work here – employees only."
"Could an employee give his code to someone else, a person who doesn't work here?"
"Of course. We can't control what people talk about. It would be nice to know that everything is completely secure but that would mean wiping memories at night and giving each person a new code in the morning."
A small grin twitched at the corners of Dick's mouth and Bruce released a quiet sigh of relief. He was glad to be off the subject of allegedly poisoning his partner, but he was also wondering where his ward was going with this line of questioning.
"There's no other security system in addition to the codes?"
"Of course there is, Dick! You do know who you're talking to, right? Have I ever been on the 'less' side of the paranoia scale?"
The grin slid across the teenager's entire face this time and Bruce met it with one of his own. He started to glance at his watch but thought better of it. Dick needed him right now and that was more important than a meeting that he could reschedule anyway.
"So, what is it?"
"Simple things like hidden video cameras and badges. And more complicated things like fingerprint scanning and lasers in heavily restricted areas."
"Do you ever have to do more than one thing to get through a door?"
"Okay, Dick," Bruce sighed. He was becoming a little impatient and was struggling to keep it hidden. "Why are you asking about all of these things? What's your point?"
"I'm thinking about breaking in tonight and I need to know the ins and outs of your security systems," Dick replied with a small smirk.
Before Bruce could say another word, Dick unexpectedly turned around, walked to the door and opened it.
"Thanks for the information," the teenager said softly, with a quick glance at his guardian. Then he left, striding down the long hall without looking back.
Bruce stood at the door, watching his young partner.
We need to talk about this when I get home.
Usually Dick would stop to chat with someone or stick his head in the door of another office to say a quick hi and goodbye. But this time the boy had his hands in his pockets and was staring straight forward. He didn't even react when the teenager from the mailroom held up his fist for a bump.
The millionaire was both irritated and surprised. There was no call for rudeness; Dick could have at least given the kid a flick of the head. But he also could have used the elevator instead of turning toward the stairs. The stairs…?
"Ready to fly, Robin?"
The voice startled him, and Dick quickly turned away from his guardian. He needed to get out of here before something happened. As if from far away, he heard himself thank Bruce for the information then found himself striding down the hall.
"Where are you, Birdy boy? Some sort of office? What floor are you on?"
The questions were filling his head and Dick clenched his teeth. The voice couldn't see where he was, that was good.
"Wayne Enterprises? Interesting…."
But the voice could, apparently, read his mind. Awesome.
"It is awesome, isn't it Bat-boy? I'm getting stronger and you're getting weaker. Take the stairs."
The last sentence was an obvious command and a hint of gray slid into the teenager's blue eyes.
He didn't want to, but Dick turned left at the end of the hall. The stairwell was three doors away and the teenager began to sweat. It was happening and he realized that he probably should have stayed with Bruce. But if Bruce had poisoned him…no, Bruce wouldn't poison him. That was preposterous.
"Not so preposterous, Boy Wonder. How did you get his name? The infamous Bat-computer, perhaps?"
"Shut up!" Dick demanded quietly but the voice just laughed at him. He had arrived at the stairwell and he put his hand on the round doorknob.
"NO!" he yelled, but it was a hesitant yell, not at all forceful. He pulled his hand off the knob, but his fingers began twitching and reaching for the door.
Familiar footsteps were striding toward the end of the hall and Dick grabbed the handle again. He glanced back, saw his guardian, threw open the door and raced up the stairs. Two floors later he was opening the door to the roof. He sprinted across the concrete to the edge and stared at the street that was eighty stories beneath him.
The battle began anew. Part of his brain yelled at him to turn around and leave but his right foot was hovering in the air, just past the edge of the building.
"Stop fighting, little one. Just take a walk, like you did around the lake. It's a beautiful day, just take a stroll around the building. You have to step forward to begin, though. Take the step, Robin!"
The last sentence was an order and Dick's brain retreated again. His right foot moved farther away from the building and the teenager stepped onto air.
He was about to fall, Dick could feel it, but for some reason he didn't care. The voice was right; it was a beautiful day for a stroll. His left heel released its hold on the ground and the boy spread his arms wide open. What a beautiful day….