Chapter 17 - The Batcave, 28 minutes later
Batman had noticed that, particularly since Robin had joined him, Alfred nearly always managed to be halfway down the stairs to the Batcave as the Batmobile (As Dick sill insisted on calling The Car) pulled up after the nightly patrol. Batman had long since given up wondering whether Alfred simply hung around on the off chance, which seemed improbable, or had some sort of early warning system he had simply yet to locate, which seemed far more likely.
Whatever the reason, Bruce was grateful to see him. If the Manor might had been built around Alfred, it couldn't have had a firmer foundation.
"I took the liberty of preparing some hot drinks and a small selection of…" His voice trailed off when he saw that not only was Robin not bouncing out of the car the way he usually did, but Batman had actually taken his cowl off whilst still in the car. Something must be seriously wrong.
Bruce all but carried the clearly shaken Robin (Who, Alfred noted in passing, wasn't wearing his gloves) to the examination table in the "triage section" of the cave. Bruce made a small gesture to Alfred, and he immediately joined them. When Bruce indicated the area around Robin's neck, Alfred nodded.
"Blunt head trauma?"
Behind him, almost on reflex, Bruce pulled the cowl up again. This was also not a good sign, in Alfred's estimation. It usually meant there was something that Bruce didn't want to face on it's own terms so he was becoming Batman to deal with it.
"I suspect so, I didn't have much time to check him out, so I thought it best to bring him straight home. Bqack of the head or neck, though there's no obvious bruising."
"If only you'd think of that before such things before the altercations take place…" Alfred broke off at the warning look he was getting.
He allowed none of his own concern he felt to show in his voice. If the boy was shocked, he needed reassurance, and that was Alfred's role in this, as in so many other situations. "If you will allow me Master Dick." Alfred moved behind Robin and removed the yellow cape to allow a better view of the back of the boy's neck and, with fingers grown skilled through long experience, began to probe gently.
In the meantime Robin hadn't said a word, which disturbed Alfred most of all. He turned to Bruce and made a vague querying gesture with his hands. Batman shook his head, not now.
Robin winced as Alfred touched a sore spot under the tunic. Alfred expertly slit the through the tunic and undershirt with a convenient scalpel, and looked at the area more closely. "There's definite bruising just here, Master Bruce, under the collar line, a single blow at a guess." He moved out of the way so Batman could take a closer look, Alfred could treat a wound, but Batman could identify the cause better.
"It's called the Sleeping Viper, I've seen the technique a couple of times, it's a nerve strike. The spot is small, and not a nerve cluster that many people can hit effectively, certainly not through an undershirt, a tunic and a cape. That tells us something about who did this. They're very strong and very precise."
Meanwhile Alfred moved around and, using a dab of the solvent that was always to hand, carefully removed Robin's mask. He didn't like the slightly glassy look that Master Dick wore underneath. He shone a small torch into each eye, tracking each pupil's reaction and tracking. Only then did he allow himself a small and silent sigh of relief.
"A minor concussion, but nothing that should be too serious. No need for Dr Thompkins this time I think, though I'll let her know, of course. You wait here young sir, and I'll fetch you something for that bruise."
He moved away to fetch a cold pack, and Batman joined him. Robin just stayed where he was, looking at something neither of the older men could see, but one could well imagine.
They conferred in low whispers.
"Was it intended as a lethal blow?" Alfred asked, a loathsome question, but one that needed to be considered.
"No, not this one. It renders the target deeply unconscious, but that's all it does. If he'd wanted Robin dead, he would have been."
"The concussion is minor, as I said. The injury itself is only a bruise now that he has recovered, though his neck will be quite sensitive for a day or two I'll be bound. But he _is_ in shock. What did he see tonight that could have done this?"
"Horror." was the simple reply.
When Alfred just fixed Batman with one of the stares that had managed to cow him at age seven and still managed to get through his emotional barricades now.
"Master Bruce, there is a time and place for cryptic comments. This is not one of them."
Batman nodded. "The Corinthian struck again tonight. Along with a couple of hired heavies, he killed four boys that Robin was protecting, and the only reason he didn't kill Robin was because he's playing some sick mind game, and he sees Robin as a player. When he came around, Robin saw the bodies as the Corinthian had arranged them, like puppets…" Before Alfred even had a chance to glare, Batman held up a hand "I know, believe me I know. I never intended for him to get involved with this case at all. And never like this."
"And yet he did get involved" Alfred let the neutral comment hang, he knew nothing he could say could either help, or make Master Bruce feel any worse. He took the opportunity to busy himself, taking the cold pack and applying it to the back of Dick's neck.
"If you will insist on wearing them, you might want to consider adding some sort of protective layer to the collar of your capes, Master Bruce. Something to protect against this sort of impact. Several of the older volumes in the library show suits of armour with such a thing, I believe. I happened to open one when dusting and…"
"A gorget, yes. I've heard of them." It was a simple idea, and an eminently sensible one, too, provided the protective material could be made flexible enough, and wouldn't chafe. He made a mental note to work on it for future costumes.
"And in the meantime, I think the best thing the young master could use is some hot cocoa and rest. Sleep if he can manage it."
"I agree on the sleep, but isn't sweet tea recommended for shock?"
"If you read more than 'How to deal with gunshot wounds' in your numerous first aid manuals, you'd know that sugar and hot fluids aren't isn't recommended for shock at all, however, as this is an emotional rather than a physical one, this is more akin to comfort food. I always have some to hand of an evening."
"Take it up to Dick's room, I'll bring him up."
"I'll have a suitable excuse for Master Dick's school tomorrow, just in case. I believe it has been some time since he has had a severe head-cold, and what with the skating incident this evening…"
"I'm sure you'll be very convincing Alfred."
"I always have been in the past."
Batman didn't even notice him leave, though he'd have been hard pushed to hear a sound at the best of times. He returned to where Robin was still sitting.
"Come along Dick" Batman spoke in a low gentle voice, "Time for you to get some rest I think."
He shepherded his ward up the long flight of stairs to Wayne Manor, removing his cowl as he did so and carelessly dropping the cloak on the stairs.
When they reached Dick's room, he carefully steered him towards the bed. A steaming mug of cocoa was already waiting on the bedside cabinet, with a small pile of home made chocolate chip cookies.
Dick clasped the mug like a life preserver when it was placed in his hand. He swallowed several mouthfuls without looking and reached for a cookie without a word.
Bruce was relieved, it was at least a normal action, the most normal action he'd seen from Dick since he'd found him in Ma Graves.
When Dick had finished, he started to remove his utility belt and tunic, still without a word. Bruce turned away at that point to allow the boy some privacy, even his somewhat stunted parental skills told him that.
A few minutes later he turned to see that Dick was now in his pyjama's but was still just sitting again.
Bruce came over and moved him so he was lying on the bed, Dick obeyed like a puppet, offering no resistance.
"Just rest Dick, sleep if you can."
He pulled the quilt up over him, then he sat down in the nearby chair and became all but immobile so as not to disturb him. He wasn't at all surprised to find a second cup of cocoa had been left by the side of the chair, Alfred knew his habits in such cases well. There weren't any cookies for him though.
As he sat there, a part of his mind wondered absently yet again over his wards choice of bed linen. All right, he realised that children had to have heroes, but a _Superman_ quilt-cover? If Clark ever found out he'd never let Bruce hear the end of it at JLA meetings. He'd probably even offer to autograph it for him too... Bruce paused, well, Dick's birthday _was_ in a couple of months, and it might be worth it just to see the look on his face. Bruce weighed the pro's and cons of it as an idea as he sipped his own cocoa.
+ + +
Some time later Dick woke from a disturbed sleep, something to do with an eyeless face smiling at him in a way that was all wrong. He sat bolt upright, sweat pouring off him.
He was not as surprised as he might have been to see Bruce sitting in the chair next to the bed. A wash of memories flooded through him, and he started to shake again. Before he'd felt himself shut down rather than face it, but now, with a little more time and some rest he'd be able to cope with it. At least he hoped he could. but not alone..
"Don't think about it Dick, there was nothing you could have done."
"But you left me looking after them and they… they.."
"Yes, they did. The fault was mine, I shouldn't have left you alone. I have no idea if I could have done anything differently, but I know you did your best to help them."
"That doesn't help."
"It's the best I can do, I'm sorry", said Bruce simply. "And I'm also sorry to have to press you further, but do you recall anything about the man who attacked you?"
Dick frowned, there was a space in his memory. He tried to explain it to Bruce as best he could
"I remember hearing a noise, and telling the kids to wait… and going down the stairs, and seeing something… no, someone standing there. Why would I think 'something' when I know it's a person Bruce? There was a man there, and he was standing in front of me, he'd just come into the house, and then he wasn't standing in front of me and then I remember waking in the upstairs hall, but nothing else."
"Do you remember anything about what he looked like? Even the slightest clue could help."
Dick's frown deepened further as he concentrated hard. "No, not a thing, I couldn't even tell you how old he was, or how tall he was. I should be able to remember something, but I can't. It's like I can almost see around him, but he's a hollow space. Does that make sense?"
Bruce knew that Dick worked hardest at the things that didn't come naturally to him, and though he lacked the all but eidetic memory of Batman, he'd worked hard at the memory techniques Bruce used. If he said he didn't remember anything, chances were it was for a reason. Pushing this now wouldn't help.
"Don't worry about it Dick, we'll try again later, in the meantime, just see if you can get some more rest. Alfred will cover for your absence at school today, so take all the time you need. I have some things I have to take care of, but Alfred will be around if you need him."
As he left the room he picked the remains of Robin's costume off the floor, he'd have Alfred repair it, or burn it, whichever he preferred.
Dick settled back down, tiredness taking it's toll properly this time, but as he drifted off he did recall one final thing.
"Did you take your mask off in the Car?"
"That would have been a most irregular thing to do don't you think?" came the solemn reply.
So he _did_ do it, thought Dick, Bruce never avoided a direct answer if there was nothing to hide.
"Yes. Yes it would be most irregular" mumbled Dick with an equally solemn tone as he finally slept again.
Batman had noticed that, particularly since Robin had joined him, Alfred nearly always managed to be halfway down the stairs to the Batcave as the Batmobile (As Dick sill insisted on calling The Car) pulled up after the nightly patrol. Batman had long since given up wondering whether Alfred simply hung around on the off chance, which seemed improbable, or had some sort of early warning system he had simply yet to locate, which seemed far more likely.
Whatever the reason, Bruce was grateful to see him. If the Manor might had been built around Alfred, it couldn't have had a firmer foundation.
"I took the liberty of preparing some hot drinks and a small selection of…" His voice trailed off when he saw that not only was Robin not bouncing out of the car the way he usually did, but Batman had actually taken his cowl off whilst still in the car. Something must be seriously wrong.
Bruce all but carried the clearly shaken Robin (Who, Alfred noted in passing, wasn't wearing his gloves) to the examination table in the "triage section" of the cave. Bruce made a small gesture to Alfred, and he immediately joined them. When Bruce indicated the area around Robin's neck, Alfred nodded.
"Blunt head trauma?"
Behind him, almost on reflex, Bruce pulled the cowl up again. This was also not a good sign, in Alfred's estimation. It usually meant there was something that Bruce didn't want to face on it's own terms so he was becoming Batman to deal with it.
"I suspect so, I didn't have much time to check him out, so I thought it best to bring him straight home. Bqack of the head or neck, though there's no obvious bruising."
"If only you'd think of that before such things before the altercations take place…" Alfred broke off at the warning look he was getting.
He allowed none of his own concern he felt to show in his voice. If the boy was shocked, he needed reassurance, and that was Alfred's role in this, as in so many other situations. "If you will allow me Master Dick." Alfred moved behind Robin and removed the yellow cape to allow a better view of the back of the boy's neck and, with fingers grown skilled through long experience, began to probe gently.
In the meantime Robin hadn't said a word, which disturbed Alfred most of all. He turned to Bruce and made a vague querying gesture with his hands. Batman shook his head, not now.
Robin winced as Alfred touched a sore spot under the tunic. Alfred expertly slit the through the tunic and undershirt with a convenient scalpel, and looked at the area more closely. "There's definite bruising just here, Master Bruce, under the collar line, a single blow at a guess." He moved out of the way so Batman could take a closer look, Alfred could treat a wound, but Batman could identify the cause better.
"It's called the Sleeping Viper, I've seen the technique a couple of times, it's a nerve strike. The spot is small, and not a nerve cluster that many people can hit effectively, certainly not through an undershirt, a tunic and a cape. That tells us something about who did this. They're very strong and very precise."
Meanwhile Alfred moved around and, using a dab of the solvent that was always to hand, carefully removed Robin's mask. He didn't like the slightly glassy look that Master Dick wore underneath. He shone a small torch into each eye, tracking each pupil's reaction and tracking. Only then did he allow himself a small and silent sigh of relief.
"A minor concussion, but nothing that should be too serious. No need for Dr Thompkins this time I think, though I'll let her know, of course. You wait here young sir, and I'll fetch you something for that bruise."
He moved away to fetch a cold pack, and Batman joined him. Robin just stayed where he was, looking at something neither of the older men could see, but one could well imagine.
They conferred in low whispers.
"Was it intended as a lethal blow?" Alfred asked, a loathsome question, but one that needed to be considered.
"No, not this one. It renders the target deeply unconscious, but that's all it does. If he'd wanted Robin dead, he would have been."
"The concussion is minor, as I said. The injury itself is only a bruise now that he has recovered, though his neck will be quite sensitive for a day or two I'll be bound. But he _is_ in shock. What did he see tonight that could have done this?"
"Horror." was the simple reply.
When Alfred just fixed Batman with one of the stares that had managed to cow him at age seven and still managed to get through his emotional barricades now.
"Master Bruce, there is a time and place for cryptic comments. This is not one of them."
Batman nodded. "The Corinthian struck again tonight. Along with a couple of hired heavies, he killed four boys that Robin was protecting, and the only reason he didn't kill Robin was because he's playing some sick mind game, and he sees Robin as a player. When he came around, Robin saw the bodies as the Corinthian had arranged them, like puppets…" Before Alfred even had a chance to glare, Batman held up a hand "I know, believe me I know. I never intended for him to get involved with this case at all. And never like this."
"And yet he did get involved" Alfred let the neutral comment hang, he knew nothing he could say could either help, or make Master Bruce feel any worse. He took the opportunity to busy himself, taking the cold pack and applying it to the back of Dick's neck.
"If you will insist on wearing them, you might want to consider adding some sort of protective layer to the collar of your capes, Master Bruce. Something to protect against this sort of impact. Several of the older volumes in the library show suits of armour with such a thing, I believe. I happened to open one when dusting and…"
"A gorget, yes. I've heard of them." It was a simple idea, and an eminently sensible one, too, provided the protective material could be made flexible enough, and wouldn't chafe. He made a mental note to work on it for future costumes.
"And in the meantime, I think the best thing the young master could use is some hot cocoa and rest. Sleep if he can manage it."
"I agree on the sleep, but isn't sweet tea recommended for shock?"
"If you read more than 'How to deal with gunshot wounds' in your numerous first aid manuals, you'd know that sugar and hot fluids aren't isn't recommended for shock at all, however, as this is an emotional rather than a physical one, this is more akin to comfort food. I always have some to hand of an evening."
"Take it up to Dick's room, I'll bring him up."
"I'll have a suitable excuse for Master Dick's school tomorrow, just in case. I believe it has been some time since he has had a severe head-cold, and what with the skating incident this evening…"
"I'm sure you'll be very convincing Alfred."
"I always have been in the past."
Batman didn't even notice him leave, though he'd have been hard pushed to hear a sound at the best of times. He returned to where Robin was still sitting.
"Come along Dick" Batman spoke in a low gentle voice, "Time for you to get some rest I think."
He shepherded his ward up the long flight of stairs to Wayne Manor, removing his cowl as he did so and carelessly dropping the cloak on the stairs.
When they reached Dick's room, he carefully steered him towards the bed. A steaming mug of cocoa was already waiting on the bedside cabinet, with a small pile of home made chocolate chip cookies.
Dick clasped the mug like a life preserver when it was placed in his hand. He swallowed several mouthfuls without looking and reached for a cookie without a word.
Bruce was relieved, it was at least a normal action, the most normal action he'd seen from Dick since he'd found him in Ma Graves.
When Dick had finished, he started to remove his utility belt and tunic, still without a word. Bruce turned away at that point to allow the boy some privacy, even his somewhat stunted parental skills told him that.
A few minutes later he turned to see that Dick was now in his pyjama's but was still just sitting again.
Bruce came over and moved him so he was lying on the bed, Dick obeyed like a puppet, offering no resistance.
"Just rest Dick, sleep if you can."
He pulled the quilt up over him, then he sat down in the nearby chair and became all but immobile so as not to disturb him. He wasn't at all surprised to find a second cup of cocoa had been left by the side of the chair, Alfred knew his habits in such cases well. There weren't any cookies for him though.
As he sat there, a part of his mind wondered absently yet again over his wards choice of bed linen. All right, he realised that children had to have heroes, but a _Superman_ quilt-cover? If Clark ever found out he'd never let Bruce hear the end of it at JLA meetings. He'd probably even offer to autograph it for him too... Bruce paused, well, Dick's birthday _was_ in a couple of months, and it might be worth it just to see the look on his face. Bruce weighed the pro's and cons of it as an idea as he sipped his own cocoa.
+ + +
Some time later Dick woke from a disturbed sleep, something to do with an eyeless face smiling at him in a way that was all wrong. He sat bolt upright, sweat pouring off him.
He was not as surprised as he might have been to see Bruce sitting in the chair next to the bed. A wash of memories flooded through him, and he started to shake again. Before he'd felt himself shut down rather than face it, but now, with a little more time and some rest he'd be able to cope with it. At least he hoped he could. but not alone..
"Don't think about it Dick, there was nothing you could have done."
"But you left me looking after them and they… they.."
"Yes, they did. The fault was mine, I shouldn't have left you alone. I have no idea if I could have done anything differently, but I know you did your best to help them."
"That doesn't help."
"It's the best I can do, I'm sorry", said Bruce simply. "And I'm also sorry to have to press you further, but do you recall anything about the man who attacked you?"
Dick frowned, there was a space in his memory. He tried to explain it to Bruce as best he could
"I remember hearing a noise, and telling the kids to wait… and going down the stairs, and seeing something… no, someone standing there. Why would I think 'something' when I know it's a person Bruce? There was a man there, and he was standing in front of me, he'd just come into the house, and then he wasn't standing in front of me and then I remember waking in the upstairs hall, but nothing else."
"Do you remember anything about what he looked like? Even the slightest clue could help."
Dick's frown deepened further as he concentrated hard. "No, not a thing, I couldn't even tell you how old he was, or how tall he was. I should be able to remember something, but I can't. It's like I can almost see around him, but he's a hollow space. Does that make sense?"
Bruce knew that Dick worked hardest at the things that didn't come naturally to him, and though he lacked the all but eidetic memory of Batman, he'd worked hard at the memory techniques Bruce used. If he said he didn't remember anything, chances were it was for a reason. Pushing this now wouldn't help.
"Don't worry about it Dick, we'll try again later, in the meantime, just see if you can get some more rest. Alfred will cover for your absence at school today, so take all the time you need. I have some things I have to take care of, but Alfred will be around if you need him."
As he left the room he picked the remains of Robin's costume off the floor, he'd have Alfred repair it, or burn it, whichever he preferred.
Dick settled back down, tiredness taking it's toll properly this time, but as he drifted off he did recall one final thing.
"Did you take your mask off in the Car?"
"That would have been a most irregular thing to do don't you think?" came the solemn reply.
So he _did_ do it, thought Dick, Bruce never avoided a direct answer if there was nothing to hide.
"Yes. Yes it would be most irregular" mumbled Dick with an equally solemn tone as he finally slept again.