Chapter 4:

Bruce stood in the doorway to his office, indecision plainly evident on his face. There was nothing wrong with taking the stairs, right? But Dick had never taken the stairs. In all the many times that he had been here, the teenager had not once turned left at the end of the long hall.

Alfred would be waiting in the lobby, watching the elevator. Bruce knew this and knew that Dick also knew it. There would only be one reason to take the stairs: the voice. Maybe that was why their conversation had come to such an abrupt halt. The boy had heard the voice, was a little unsure about his guardian and had decided that leaving was a better choice than staying in the vicinity of someone who might have poisoned him.

"Dick," he whispered as he began walking down the hall. Jogging was a better word and his employees were staring at him like he was going crazy. Because why else would their boss be almost running down the hall in his expensive suit and shiny shoes?

"NO!"

The word was loud but tentative. Bruce turned the corner and saw his ward standing at the door to the stairs. His right hand was shaking as it reached for the handle. Dick glanced back and Bruce was shocked to see glassy eyes that were the color of storm clouds. The teenager threw open the door and raced down, no, he was going up the stairs. The roof!

Bruce tore off his suffocating tie as he raced to the door and sprinted up the stairs. He burst through the exit to the roof and froze. Dick was standing on one foot with his other one stretched out over the street. The man watched in horror as the boy opened his arms and leaned forward.

"DICK, STOP!" he shouted, the tone full of panic. He was too far away, he wouldn't make it in time. But he was sprinting across the cement anyway, yelling his ward's name over and over.

Either Dick didn't hear him or he chose to ignore him. Bruce would never know, he realized, as the boy's left foot eased off the building and the small body disappeared.

It was working this time, the man could feel it working. Half of the boy's brain was in full panic mode, yelling at him to step backwards instead of strolling forward. But the criminal had a firm hold on the other half and was urging him to continue. He couldn't tell how close the kid was to falling but the urgency of the word the brain was shouting – stop – meant that it would happen soon.

What a beautiful day….

"Yes, Bat-kid, it's a beautiful day. One that Batman will remember forever. Is he there watching you? If he is, wave goodbye."

The man cackled as the connection began to sever. The boy's death was imminent and soon he would hear people screaming and sirens wailing. He really, really hoped that Batman was at least in the vicinity of the scene. The idea of the Caped Crusader watching his little sidekick fall to his death made the criminal laugh so hard that he burst into tears.

The line between his mind and that of the boy was cut off completely. The man sat down and began listening carefully, waiting for the joyous sound of a body hitting the ground. What luck that the boy had, for some unknown reason, gone to Wayne Enterprises. It made it so much easier to bask in the glory of his triumph when he was so close to the action.

"Bye, Robin." Another chuckle escaped through the evil grin on the man's face. "And farewell, Batman. If only you had saved my wife, we wouldn't be here right now. Your kid would still be alive with no poison in his system."

The man paused as he thought of his lovely wife. A look of complete sorrow washed over his features and several tears slid down his cheeks. He had been so close, but Batman had been closer. The "hero" should have saved her instead of trying to hold on to both of them. Her satin gloves had been slippery; both he and Batman had lost their grip. But if Batman had let go of him and grabbed her, she would still be alive. What a waste of a beautiful young life.

"You will never find me; my trail is completely concealed," the man suddenly continued. "Bruce Wayne is your only suspect. How fortuitous that Robin decided to walk off the building owned by that particular millionaire. Enjoy the rest of your grief-filled life," he snarled as he pictured Batman kneeling by his young sidekick.

He took a mental picture of a sobbing Batman sitting beside the broken, mangled body of the "Boy Wonder" and hung it up on a wall of his brain. His revenge would be complete as soon as he heard the thud.

"…wave goodbye."

The voice suddenly disappeared, and Dick opened his eyes. The gray mist that was clouding his vision disappeared, allowing the normal light-blue to shine through. All he could see was the black asphalt of a Gotham City street, with tiny shapes moving around like busy ants. What was he doing upside down? And why was he at least seventy stories high?!

"DICK!"

That was the voice of his guardian and Dick lifted his head. His eyes widened when he saw his predicament. Somehow his right knee had landed on the railing of a fire escape and his foot was wrapped around the nearest rung. He was swaying gently but he could feel that he was secure. And Bruce was nowhere in sight.

Quickly flipping his left leg up, Dick placed it in the same position as his right and dropped his head again. That one movement had taken a lot of energy and he wanted to go to sleep. But the blood was rushing to his head, giving him a major headache, and he needed to have his entire body on the fire escape before his feet decided to let go.

This was just like flying on an immobile trapeze. Dick began swinging his body, faster and faster, until he had enough momentum to pull himself up and over the railing. He hit his head on the third step when he flew off the railing, but a bruise was better than being dead.

Gasping from both the exertion and the fear, the teenager allowed himself to drop to the landing. It would just be a short rest; then he would climb the ten or so stories up to the roof. Bruce would be there waiting, Dick was absolutely positive about that, and the boy realized that he wanted a strong pair of arms wrapped securely around his small body. But first, just a short rest.

Dick was falling to his death and Bruce didn't want to look over the edge of the roof. He already knew what he would see: a splash of red on the white sidewalk that was eighty stories below him.

But he looked anyway, and his reluctance turned into elation. His ward was stuck on the fire escape, both legs wrapped around the railing and both arms hanging down. The boy wasn't dead but would probably resume his fall soon if somebody didn't get to him. Quickly opening the gate that led from the roof to the first set of stairs, Bruce began descending the steps as fast as he could.

Suddenly the teenager's body was rapidly swinging back and forth. Was Dick in control and attempting to save himself or was the voice telling him to untangle his legs and drop to the ground? Bruce received his answer when the small body flew up and over the railing. There was a 'thud' and then complete silence.

His ward was now only five stories away and Bruce began jumping over the corners instead of rounding them. He caught a glimpse of dark hair and pushed himself to go faster. Finally, he made it to the last set of stairs and he slowed his pace so he wouldn't run the boy over. Dick was stretched out on the last three steps, eyes closed and body motionless.

There was a streak of red on Dick's forehead; that was the first thing Bruce noticed. Upon closer examination he determined that it was a small gash that wouldn't need stitches. The huge, purple bump was more concerning than the blood.

"Dick," he whispered, his hands hovering over the limp form. The blue eyes immediately popped open and Bruce was relieved.

"Bruce?" the boy mumbled, and the man nodded.

"Talk to me, Dick. What hurts?"

"Forehead, right knee and a pounding headache. What happened?" Dick raised his right hand and touched the streak of blood.

"You walked off the roof, Dick. I was calling your name but you didn't even turn around. You just…" Bruce's voice faltered as the image of his ward's body disappearing rushed through his mind.

"I…the voice…he can read my mind!" Dick was trembling and tears were filling his eyes. "I can't do this, Bruce, I can't do it! Help me…please!"

"I'm trying, kiddo, but I'm hitting dead ends everywhere I turn. I know what caused this, but I don't know how to counteract it."

The man's voice was full of guilt; he was Batman, he should be able to find the cure!

"I don't want to die, Bruce!" Dick almost yelled. He sat up and grabbed his head with both hands. "Please don't let me kill myself," he whispered, the tone full of despair.

And Bruce did what Dick had been hoping he would do. He wrapped both arms around his young ward and pulled him into his chest, hugging him tightly.

"I will stay with you as often as I can and Alfred will be with you while Batman searches for the cure. We will not allow you to die, kiddo, I promise you that. And you know I always keep my promises."

There was no answer and Bruce assumed, correctly, that Dick was attempting to control his emotions.

"It's okay to let it out, Dick," the man whispered. "Cry, hit me, scream, whatever you need to do. Don't keep it inside."

Hypocrite. Bruce rolled his eyes at himself and tossed the thought away.

There was a muffled sound, Bruce couldn't quite tell what it was, and then the boy raised his head. His wide, blue eyes were red but there were no tear tracks on his cheeks.

"You want me to hit you?" Dick asked skeptically.

"If that's what it takes to release whatever it is that you're feeling, then yes. Hit me."

The teenager threw a half-hearted punch at the man's shoulder and chuckled quietly.

"Thanks, that really helped," he snickered sarcastically. "I'm good now. Are we going up or down? I kind of want to get off this fire escape sometime soon."

"Up is closer but are you okay with that? We can break a window, instead."

"Bruce Wayne doesn't break windows so I guess we're going up. You'll be right behind me?"

"Of course. I'm not going to let anything happen, okay?"

"What if I hear…what if I try…"

"Then I'll wrap you in a bear hug and not allow you to move until you have control."

"It's getting harder to fight."

"I'll help you, kiddo. I won't let go until I know for sure that you will be safe. Ready?"

Sighing heavily, Dick stood up and grabbed the railing. Guardian and ward began the long trek up to the roof. Bruce stayed one step below the entire time, ready for anything. Ten minutes later they were going through the gate and onto the roof.

"You were supposed to DIE! Why aren't you dead?!"

"Bru…uce," Dick gasped, his eyes widening with fear.

"I'm here and I've got you." The man immediately sat down and pulled the boy into his arms. "I'm not letting go, I promise."

Dick was suddenly struggling to escape from his guardian's strong grasp. Bruce tightened his grip, forcing the athletic muscles to work harder. The teenager quickly became tired, making it much easier to regain control.

"Thanks," he mumbled. "Sorry."

"It's not your fault, there's no need to apologize," Bruce commented quietly while slowly releasing his ward's body. Pulling the boy to his feet, the man wrapped his arm around the small shoulders and pushed him toward the door that led inside.

There were no screaming noises, no cracks signifying broken bones, no wailing sirens. Something had gone wrong. Had Batman been close enough to save his kid? Growling, the man stood up and strode to his window. Pedestrians were casually walking and cars were speeding past the buildings. Nothing had happened.

Opening his mind, the criminal searched for the connection. It was weak and slightly painful so he stepped back. Five minutes later he tried again and heard the frightened tone of the Boy Wonder. That was good. The words, however, were mushing themselves into each other so he couldn't understand what the kid was saying.

He was suddenly in the boy's head again.

"You were supposed to DIE! Why aren't you dead?!"

The struggle was much shorter this time. The teen's brain was stronger than it had been previously; the man had control for less than two minutes. That wasn't supposed to happen. The boy was supposed to get weaker, not stronger.

The words would help him; he just had to figure it out. There had to be some sort of link, no matter how obscure. He just had to put the puzzle together. But the seven words were so random!

machine, educate, adjudicate, compartment, disregard, allergic, nibor.a

"The machine will adjudicate and disregard any allergic reaction. I will educate my dep…no, compartment. But what is nibor.a?!"

Shaking his head in frustration, the criminal grabbed a pencil and began scribbling phrases and sentences on the pad of paper in front of him. It was imperative that he figure this out soon. These words, configured correctly, would give him the key to maintaining complete control over Robin's mind.

One hour later – the Batcave:

Dick hissed in pain as Alfred's fingers prodded the bump on his head. He was sitting on one of the medical tables, allowing the butler to examine him. Batman was ten feet away, working on the Bat-computer and casting furtive glances in the boy's direction every thirty seconds.

"Sorry, Master Dick. I'm trying to be as gentle as possible." There was a quick pause and then the butler stated, "Bat-ice will do the trick there. No need to worry about it, young sir. Now, ehm, what's this about your right knee?"

"I don't know what happened. When I woke up, my right leg was the only thing keeping me in the air."

"It sounds to me as if your knee was forced to accept all ninety-two pounds of you when it hit the railing. You're very fortunate, Master Dick, that it was not blown out. Let's hope nothing is torn."

The old man's deft fingers began feeling the ligaments and tendons in the boy's knee. After several minutes of manipulation, Alfred declared that Dick's anterior cruciate ligament had sustained a grade one sprain. It would need to be supported with Bat-wrap for at least two weeks, but no further treatment was necessary.

"Is there anything else, young sir?"

"My ribs are kind of sore. I don't think I hit them on anything and I wasn't in a fight so I don't know what happened there, either."

"Up with the shirt then, Master Dick, and we'll have you right as rain in no time."

The teenager willingly complied, and Alfred quietly gasped at the sight. Dick's entire torso was black and blue. There was not an inch of pale skin anywhere. Batman glanced up when he heard the soft noise.

"What the…?" Batman shouted. Dick hadn't said anything about his torso when Bruce had asked about pain on the fire escape. He strode to his partner's side and gently touched the darkest area. Dick flinched and Batman backed away, regret sliding across his face as he realized the cause of the bruising.

"I am so sorry, kiddo," the man stated softly. "I didn't know I was holding you so tightly. I should have…"

"Better bruised than dead," Dick muttered, interrupting Batman's line of thinking. "What you should have done is exactly what you did. If this is what it takes to keep me from killing myself…"

He trailed off and noticed Alfred staring at him in shock.

"Master Batman, you did this?! Why on earth would you be holding him tight enough for this to happen?!" Alfred gestured to the battered torso as he spoke.

Backing away a little more, Batman said, "I had to hold him down. He was hearing the voice again and I didn't want him to get hurt." He stared for a moment at Dick's body.

"I didn't do a very good job of that, though," he murmured.

"It's fine, I'm fine, don't worry about it," Dick said loudly. "Like I said, better bruised than dead, right? I'll just pack myself in Bat-ice for a while and it will go away. No big deal."

Tired of the scrutiny of two pairs of adult eyes, the teenager pushed his shirt back down and slid off the table. "Am I done, Alfred?"

Without waiting for a reply, Dick walked to the Bat-freezer and pulled out two bags of Bat-ice – one large and one small. Then he went back to the medical area and grabbed a roll of Bat-wrap out of one of the cabinets. He laid down on the table and placed the small pack on his forehead. Then he lifted his right leg and quickly wrapped his knee. It was a little sloppy, but it was supporting the ligament. Finally, he maneuvered the large pack of Bat-ice onto the front of his body. All this was done as Alfred stood rooted to his spot in shock and Batman glared at the ground in front of him.

"I'm sorry," the Caped Crusader growled again, and Dick sighed.

"I'm going to take a nap, if that's okay. Wake me up if I try to jump off any buildings." He looked at the two men with a slight grin. Both of them frowned in reply.

"Too soon?"

"Yes, Master Dick, much too soon."

The teenager closed his eyes and instantly fell asleep. Alfred quickly unwrapped then re-wrapped the knee before repositioning the Bat-ice on the boy's torso. Then he turned to Batman, his eyes cold with anger.

"What did you do to him, sir?!" he whispered.

"I already told you!" Batman replied heatedly. "I had to hold him down. He had just walked off the roof, Alfred! What would you have done if you knew that he was about to try it again? Held his hand? He's strong and I had to keep him immobile. You think I like seeing him in that condition?! I've got a lump of guilt in my chest that weighs more than he does!"

Taking a deep breath, because he knew that blaming Batman would do more harm than good, the faithful butler replied, "Thank you, sir, for saving the young master's life. I understand why you had to do it, sir, and I did not mean to imply that you wanted him to be in pain. Please forgive me if I overstepped my boundaries."

Alfred abruptly turned around and walked to the service elevator. He did understand but, right now, he didn't want to be in the Batcave, glaring at Batman while hoping that Robin's bruises would fade easily.

"You don't need to apologize, Alfred," Batman began but the butler had already walked away. "I didn't mean to do it!" he shouted but instead of receiving a nod of acknowledgement from the older man, he heard a soft noise.

"Trying to sleep," the boy mumbled, and Batman returned to the Bat-computer. He was going to figure this out and it was going to happen soon.