Next chapter up. Sorry, a lot of Tim's thoughts here, but this needed to be in here. Tim's a thinker, and I really think that he's the type to have these mental soliloquies. So, hopefully this won't bore you stiff. If it does, sorry, the next chapter should be better. These stories keep going and evolving on me. I had planned on only four chapters for this story, at the most, and it looks like it's going to be six, at the least. shrugs Oh well, I guess. I'm becoming a faster typist, anyway. Drat my hyperextended, overactive imagination.
Also I'd like to thank Jim, Jon, Lee, Claudia, Kelly, Teri, Nchan, Nararbitz, Redwulf, and anybody else I missed, that so kindly offered to help me figure out some of my last minute changes to the storyline. I really appreciate your support. Hope I get a chance to return the favor sometime. -krt
Reviews greatly appreciated.
Disclaimer was in chapter 1
Chapter 4: Introspection
I leaned up against a convenient outcropping of rock, still grinning slightly. Dick smirked at me from the other side of Bruce's chair. Now that I was officially one of the guys again there surely wouldn't be any harm in catching up on a lot of those pranks that he'd played on me.
Ok, so it's been three years. I have a long memory. So, one of these days, Richard Grayson, one of these days.
Not now, though, because there was still several important issues to settle. Like the fact that I needed a name and a costume. I was beginning to wish that I'd given this a little more thought. To be totally honest, I had never really thought that I'd get this far. A couple of days ago, I had thought that Bruce had cut off contact with me for no other reason but that I screwed up when Dad found out about Robin. Then, when I got back and found out that there was a plausible reason, I wasn't really sure that Bruce wanted me back on the streets. Now that I knew that this was ok with him, I wished that I'd had a name all picked out. Having a costume to jump into and impress them all with would have been cool, too.
So much for a stunning entrance. Heh.
I really don't care that much about my identity. That might sound stupid. I mean, what hero doesn't have a total love affair going on with his or her costume. Ask a hero, or a villain, for that matter, what they spend the most time on outside of their profession, and it's usually the costume and the gimmicks. Or the car, but Dick doesn't fall into the normal category. I was different from most heroes in that the costume that I'd worn wasn't something that I had been the first to think of, or even the first to wear.
I didn't even know who I wanted to be now. According to the 'heroic code', I should have just had a life shattering experience or just discovered some new aspect of myself, and miraculously, that should help me shape a new identity. I've had life shattering experiences, and discovered several new aspects of myself over the last couple of years, but nothing seemed to have actually changed the way that I thought about myself. Because in a lot of ways that was what a costume was. Oh sure, it hid your features and made it so the bad guys would recognize you but not know who you were, but to be truthful, so would a plain black outfit. The additions, the name, that was all an outward projection of how a person thought, what they felt, and how they chose to affect their world.
I'd felt at home in the Robin costume. It had been what I'd had fantasies about since I was five, and the pride I felt when it was mine had been great. Fear of screwing up had been pretty high on the list, too, but as I had grown up and survived the different obstacles that Gotham threw in my path, I had lost that fear. After that, for a year or so Robin had been my mental projection. Who I was, what I wanted to be, what I couldn't be around my father, I found that I could be around my surrogate family when I was Robin.
But, 'was' was the key word there. Robin. I could be Robin again, and fall into the role relatively easily, I guess. This would be if this was acceptable with Bruce, of course. But, the outward projection of Robin that I had been when I was fifteen was far from the person I was now. I had changed, both for the better, and if I was totally honest with myself, in some ways for the worse. I had left what little innocence I had ever had behind me, with Robin. Gone also were most of my insecurities, my childish fears, and my lack of confidence in what I was capable of. I suppose it was a fair trade, certainly one necessary to my maturing, but sometimes I wished that my life wasn't so danged complicated. Although my time away from home had enhanced my physical abilities, I think that what changed the most about me over the years of loneliness and self-preservation was mental.
Amazing what three years on your own will do to your confidence and will power. Here, in Gotham, I had known that if I failed, it would be bad, but life would go on. Maybe without me, if it was a bad enough failure, but it would still go on. If I failed, Bruce would get the bad guy. If I fell, one of the clan would either be able to catch me, or pick up where I left off. Top that off with the feeling that I'd always had that if something did happen, or I quit the game, that no one would ever really notice, and you get a insecure teen that never really accomplished everything he was capable of.
Now, I knew exactly what I was capable of, and better yet, I knew that anything that I didn't know now, I could learn. Three years of lonely nights, and days spent getting pounded on by people much harder on me than anyone in Gotham ever had been, had taught me patience and only enhanced my stubbornness. When I had no one else to depend on other than myself, when I was convinced that no one in the world cared whether I lived or died, those were the times that taught me to depend on myself always and others second.
These changes in the way I thought made Robin a difficult role to imagine myself stepping back into. Robin was a child. Tough, intelligent, and willing to learn, but still a child. I may only be eighteen now, but I've been mostly alone since I was a child, and on my own since I was fifteen. That will either mature or kill someone. I was a long way from a child.
I wondered if I was doing the right thing by returning to Gotham to stay. It had been three years, and although so far I had seemed to be able to jump right back into the camaraderie of the clan, I couldn't help but wonder if it would be easy to be with people again. After three years of trusting only myself, will I be able to trust someone else watching my back? I didn't know. Some habits are hard to shake, and for so long, I had almost hated the thought of the clan. It had hurt too much to think about them. My imagination had had them cheering happily now that the 'boy blunder' was out of the way. It would take some time before I would really feel totally at home again. My relationship skills were never that great to begin with, I just hoped they hadn't gotten too much worse over the last few years.
Maybe it would all come back with time. I hoped so.
What had changed over the last three years was my assuredness that even if things didn't work out here, I could survive. I could make a life for myself anywhere. Gotham felt right because here I could do work that I'd done before, and even have the chance to prove myself to people that, despite the loneliness of the last three years, I had never stopped respecting. I also knew that, with my more mature and analytical mindset, I wasn't as apt to get emotionally involved with the clan again until I was pretty dang sure that it would work out. Maybe it was cold of me, but I could go upstairs right now, grab my stuff and leave and survive. And I would, if I had too, although I really wanted to make this work.
Somehow, putting myself back into the Robin costume would send the message to the rest of the clan that I was the same, just older. This was far from the truth. I didn't want this to be any harder than it already was going to be, and a new name would at least emphasize that I was different. However, an identity is not to be approached lightly. It did matter what name I went under, for several reasons. First, it was going to become more used than my real name. Second, it needed to portray me, who I was, how I thought. Finally, it was nearly impossible to change, and I didn't want to have to go overseas for another three years just because I didn't like my codename. Heh.
I was jolted out of my reverie by a question from Bruce. Typical, he seemed to know what I had been thinking about. "You're going to need a costume. Do you have anything in mind?"
I had my mouth open, ready to tell them that I was open to suggestions, when a voice behind me made me jump. "Tim is going to stay?" Cass moved from the shadows and joined us. At Bruce's nod, she grinned and threw her arms around me. I blinked. Wasn't expecting that, not that I mind. Although it looks like I'm going to get teased later, if I know the look on Dick's face. I returned her hug carefully. She stepped back, turned around, and ran out of the room. I blinked again and gave the room in general a blank look. I have no idea what that was about, but I know one thing, Dick had better stop snickering at me, or there's gonna be bloodshed.
I cut off my glare at him to look back at Cass as she ran back into the room. Grinning at me, she handed me a familiar shuriken. The colorful piece of metal caught the light as I held it. I gave her a questioning look, why had she given my old R back to me? I started to ask, aware of both the steady gaze of Bruce and the shrug that Dick shot me. "Umm, thanks. But..."
Cass got a stubborn look on her face. "You are back. Need costume and name, right?" At my cautious nod, she continued. "Be Robin." She nodded her head and crossed her arms as if the matter was totally settled.
I had several things that I wanted to say. Really. It's not my fault they all came out in an assortment of sputters. Anyway, it didn't matter because both Bruce and Dick started talking, too. In the ensuing muddle of words, one voice rang out loud and clear. "This is not a chicken coop!"
The sound of a pin falling would have been loud in the cave as Alfred descended the stairs, glaring at one and all. If we all hadn't been so cowed, it would have been funny. Who would have guessed that all it would take to shut up Batman, Nightwing, Batgirl and who ever I was, was an elderly English butler? But shut up we were, and even Bruce looked somewhat penitent as Alfred continued. "My word, what on earth could cause all of you to be talking at the same time? I heard you from the top of the stairs!"
Dick spoke, looking rather embarrassed. "Sorry, Alfred. Ummm, hey, Tim's going to be staying!" I was tempted to roll my eyes at Dick's blatant change of subject, but Alfred turned to me and I didn't have the nerve. I had always secretly thought that Bruce's famed Bat look was an evolution of the slightly less well known, but equally terrifying Alfred glare, but now I had proof. I held back a sigh of relief as the glare changed into a smile.
"Why, that's wonderful. Will you be indulging in the activities of the night as well?" Well, that was an interesting way of putting it.
"Yeah, well, that's kinda what we were discussing. I am planning on it, but I need a name..." I let my voice trail off.
Alfred shot Bruce a look. "I see. Exactly what was the cause of the commotion, might I ask?"
"Well, I'm not really sure. Cass suggested that I be Robin again, and we just were discussing the matter when you came down." I was rather proud of how I worded that.
Alfred gave me a skeptical look, but didn't comment. "Perhaps if you spoke one at a time, you would accomplish more." After that profound statement, he headed back upstairs as we all looked at each other.
Cass was the first to speak. "I think Tim is Robin again. Was Robin, good Robin. No reason to change."
Dick went next. "I don't care, other than I figured that Tim would want to strike out and find something new." He shrugged. "Whatever though, it's really not anything that I have any say in." Which was somewhat true.
Bruce and I traded glances. We obviously needed to have another talk, and it wasn't that I specifically didn't want Dick and Cass in on it, but like Dick said, it wasn't really their call. It was something that was for Bruce and I to discuss. Dick picked up on our train of thought, and distracted Cass by his usual method, cracking stupid jokes and doing his best to make Cass laugh. Which, I gathered from the stone face that was rewarding his antics, was harder than it might seem. It looked like a game that they played frequently.
I walked a little closer to Bruce and leaned up against the computer console. I wonder what name he will suggest, or if he'll suggest one at all. This should be interesting.
TBC....
Also I'd like to thank Jim, Jon, Lee, Claudia, Kelly, Teri, Nchan, Nararbitz, Redwulf, and anybody else I missed, that so kindly offered to help me figure out some of my last minute changes to the storyline. I really appreciate your support. Hope I get a chance to return the favor sometime. -krt
Reviews greatly appreciated.
Disclaimer was in chapter 1
Chapter 4: Introspection
I leaned up against a convenient outcropping of rock, still grinning slightly. Dick smirked at me from the other side of Bruce's chair. Now that I was officially one of the guys again there surely wouldn't be any harm in catching up on a lot of those pranks that he'd played on me.
Ok, so it's been three years. I have a long memory. So, one of these days, Richard Grayson, one of these days.
Not now, though, because there was still several important issues to settle. Like the fact that I needed a name and a costume. I was beginning to wish that I'd given this a little more thought. To be totally honest, I had never really thought that I'd get this far. A couple of days ago, I had thought that Bruce had cut off contact with me for no other reason but that I screwed up when Dad found out about Robin. Then, when I got back and found out that there was a plausible reason, I wasn't really sure that Bruce wanted me back on the streets. Now that I knew that this was ok with him, I wished that I'd had a name all picked out. Having a costume to jump into and impress them all with would have been cool, too.
So much for a stunning entrance. Heh.
I really don't care that much about my identity. That might sound stupid. I mean, what hero doesn't have a total love affair going on with his or her costume. Ask a hero, or a villain, for that matter, what they spend the most time on outside of their profession, and it's usually the costume and the gimmicks. Or the car, but Dick doesn't fall into the normal category. I was different from most heroes in that the costume that I'd worn wasn't something that I had been the first to think of, or even the first to wear.
I didn't even know who I wanted to be now. According to the 'heroic code', I should have just had a life shattering experience or just discovered some new aspect of myself, and miraculously, that should help me shape a new identity. I've had life shattering experiences, and discovered several new aspects of myself over the last couple of years, but nothing seemed to have actually changed the way that I thought about myself. Because in a lot of ways that was what a costume was. Oh sure, it hid your features and made it so the bad guys would recognize you but not know who you were, but to be truthful, so would a plain black outfit. The additions, the name, that was all an outward projection of how a person thought, what they felt, and how they chose to affect their world.
I'd felt at home in the Robin costume. It had been what I'd had fantasies about since I was five, and the pride I felt when it was mine had been great. Fear of screwing up had been pretty high on the list, too, but as I had grown up and survived the different obstacles that Gotham threw in my path, I had lost that fear. After that, for a year or so Robin had been my mental projection. Who I was, what I wanted to be, what I couldn't be around my father, I found that I could be around my surrogate family when I was Robin.
But, 'was' was the key word there. Robin. I could be Robin again, and fall into the role relatively easily, I guess. This would be if this was acceptable with Bruce, of course. But, the outward projection of Robin that I had been when I was fifteen was far from the person I was now. I had changed, both for the better, and if I was totally honest with myself, in some ways for the worse. I had left what little innocence I had ever had behind me, with Robin. Gone also were most of my insecurities, my childish fears, and my lack of confidence in what I was capable of. I suppose it was a fair trade, certainly one necessary to my maturing, but sometimes I wished that my life wasn't so danged complicated. Although my time away from home had enhanced my physical abilities, I think that what changed the most about me over the years of loneliness and self-preservation was mental.
Amazing what three years on your own will do to your confidence and will power. Here, in Gotham, I had known that if I failed, it would be bad, but life would go on. Maybe without me, if it was a bad enough failure, but it would still go on. If I failed, Bruce would get the bad guy. If I fell, one of the clan would either be able to catch me, or pick up where I left off. Top that off with the feeling that I'd always had that if something did happen, or I quit the game, that no one would ever really notice, and you get a insecure teen that never really accomplished everything he was capable of.
Now, I knew exactly what I was capable of, and better yet, I knew that anything that I didn't know now, I could learn. Three years of lonely nights, and days spent getting pounded on by people much harder on me than anyone in Gotham ever had been, had taught me patience and only enhanced my stubbornness. When I had no one else to depend on other than myself, when I was convinced that no one in the world cared whether I lived or died, those were the times that taught me to depend on myself always and others second.
These changes in the way I thought made Robin a difficult role to imagine myself stepping back into. Robin was a child. Tough, intelligent, and willing to learn, but still a child. I may only be eighteen now, but I've been mostly alone since I was a child, and on my own since I was fifteen. That will either mature or kill someone. I was a long way from a child.
I wondered if I was doing the right thing by returning to Gotham to stay. It had been three years, and although so far I had seemed to be able to jump right back into the camaraderie of the clan, I couldn't help but wonder if it would be easy to be with people again. After three years of trusting only myself, will I be able to trust someone else watching my back? I didn't know. Some habits are hard to shake, and for so long, I had almost hated the thought of the clan. It had hurt too much to think about them. My imagination had had them cheering happily now that the 'boy blunder' was out of the way. It would take some time before I would really feel totally at home again. My relationship skills were never that great to begin with, I just hoped they hadn't gotten too much worse over the last few years.
Maybe it would all come back with time. I hoped so.
What had changed over the last three years was my assuredness that even if things didn't work out here, I could survive. I could make a life for myself anywhere. Gotham felt right because here I could do work that I'd done before, and even have the chance to prove myself to people that, despite the loneliness of the last three years, I had never stopped respecting. I also knew that, with my more mature and analytical mindset, I wasn't as apt to get emotionally involved with the clan again until I was pretty dang sure that it would work out. Maybe it was cold of me, but I could go upstairs right now, grab my stuff and leave and survive. And I would, if I had too, although I really wanted to make this work.
Somehow, putting myself back into the Robin costume would send the message to the rest of the clan that I was the same, just older. This was far from the truth. I didn't want this to be any harder than it already was going to be, and a new name would at least emphasize that I was different. However, an identity is not to be approached lightly. It did matter what name I went under, for several reasons. First, it was going to become more used than my real name. Second, it needed to portray me, who I was, how I thought. Finally, it was nearly impossible to change, and I didn't want to have to go overseas for another three years just because I didn't like my codename. Heh.
I was jolted out of my reverie by a question from Bruce. Typical, he seemed to know what I had been thinking about. "You're going to need a costume. Do you have anything in mind?"
I had my mouth open, ready to tell them that I was open to suggestions, when a voice behind me made me jump. "Tim is going to stay?" Cass moved from the shadows and joined us. At Bruce's nod, she grinned and threw her arms around me. I blinked. Wasn't expecting that, not that I mind. Although it looks like I'm going to get teased later, if I know the look on Dick's face. I returned her hug carefully. She stepped back, turned around, and ran out of the room. I blinked again and gave the room in general a blank look. I have no idea what that was about, but I know one thing, Dick had better stop snickering at me, or there's gonna be bloodshed.
I cut off my glare at him to look back at Cass as she ran back into the room. Grinning at me, she handed me a familiar shuriken. The colorful piece of metal caught the light as I held it. I gave her a questioning look, why had she given my old R back to me? I started to ask, aware of both the steady gaze of Bruce and the shrug that Dick shot me. "Umm, thanks. But..."
Cass got a stubborn look on her face. "You are back. Need costume and name, right?" At my cautious nod, she continued. "Be Robin." She nodded her head and crossed her arms as if the matter was totally settled.
I had several things that I wanted to say. Really. It's not my fault they all came out in an assortment of sputters. Anyway, it didn't matter because both Bruce and Dick started talking, too. In the ensuing muddle of words, one voice rang out loud and clear. "This is not a chicken coop!"
The sound of a pin falling would have been loud in the cave as Alfred descended the stairs, glaring at one and all. If we all hadn't been so cowed, it would have been funny. Who would have guessed that all it would take to shut up Batman, Nightwing, Batgirl and who ever I was, was an elderly English butler? But shut up we were, and even Bruce looked somewhat penitent as Alfred continued. "My word, what on earth could cause all of you to be talking at the same time? I heard you from the top of the stairs!"
Dick spoke, looking rather embarrassed. "Sorry, Alfred. Ummm, hey, Tim's going to be staying!" I was tempted to roll my eyes at Dick's blatant change of subject, but Alfred turned to me and I didn't have the nerve. I had always secretly thought that Bruce's famed Bat look was an evolution of the slightly less well known, but equally terrifying Alfred glare, but now I had proof. I held back a sigh of relief as the glare changed into a smile.
"Why, that's wonderful. Will you be indulging in the activities of the night as well?" Well, that was an interesting way of putting it.
"Yeah, well, that's kinda what we were discussing. I am planning on it, but I need a name..." I let my voice trail off.
Alfred shot Bruce a look. "I see. Exactly what was the cause of the commotion, might I ask?"
"Well, I'm not really sure. Cass suggested that I be Robin again, and we just were discussing the matter when you came down." I was rather proud of how I worded that.
Alfred gave me a skeptical look, but didn't comment. "Perhaps if you spoke one at a time, you would accomplish more." After that profound statement, he headed back upstairs as we all looked at each other.
Cass was the first to speak. "I think Tim is Robin again. Was Robin, good Robin. No reason to change."
Dick went next. "I don't care, other than I figured that Tim would want to strike out and find something new." He shrugged. "Whatever though, it's really not anything that I have any say in." Which was somewhat true.
Bruce and I traded glances. We obviously needed to have another talk, and it wasn't that I specifically didn't want Dick and Cass in on it, but like Dick said, it wasn't really their call. It was something that was for Bruce and I to discuss. Dick picked up on our train of thought, and distracted Cass by his usual method, cracking stupid jokes and doing his best to make Cass laugh. Which, I gathered from the stone face that was rewarding his antics, was harder than it might seem. It looked like a game that they played frequently.
I walked a little closer to Bruce and leaned up against the computer console. I wonder what name he will suggest, or if he'll suggest one at all. This should be interesting.
TBC....