Chapter One

1

Dick hated this part. Hated it with a passion.

Six years ago, when he had first learned the truth behind his mentor's alter ego, it hadn't seemed so bad. Then, it had been like looking beyond the shadows of a wild dream, catapulting him into the unknown toward the adventure of a lifetime. Then, he had been but a boy in the clutches of the unknown, drawn toward something he did not understand, something horrifying and wonderful at the same time. To this day he was not sure he was completely ready for the burden placed on his shoulders.

Dick stepped out of the cab and paid the driver. As the yellow vehicle spun away, the teen drew a deep breath, grabbed his heavy suitcase, and looked toward the massive household that had been his home for the better part of a decade. Three years ago he had left it all behind, on his way to the west coast and Jump City, toward a better life. Or so he had thought. It seemed his own alter ego would always haunt him, just as the creature inside his mentor would always be on the prowl.

The house seemed the same as always—large and neat and open…gothic—which was bizarre for a house that kept only two. The trees Thomas Wayne had planted when he had purchased the estate had turned various shades of yellows and reds and browns with the season. Here, there would always be a home, though much of it had seemed a prison to the youngster in the days before he had made his decision to move out west. Dick crossed the vast driveway and ascended the short flight of steps that led to the front door.

"Master Dick, welcome home."

Dick turned his eyes to the familiar, friendly voice and had to grin when he spotted his friend standing on the portico leading to the garage. "Alfred!" Dropping his suitcase by the door, he darted over to the butler and threw himself into the old man's arms. "My God, it's great to see you!"

"It's good to see you too, Master Dick." Alfred held the boy at arms length and looked him up and down. "My, you have grown."

Dick grinned. "I've been working out."

"Yes, I would imagine."

"What about you, Alfred? Taking care of yourself?"

"Everyday."

He gave the butler another hug. The man had done so much for him since his parents had died, just as Bruce had promised he would. He cared for Alfred like he would a grandfather. He cared for Bruce, too. Though their experiences as partners had been difficult, and their time as a family had been brief, Dick would always see Bruce as a friend. That's all that Dick had really ever needed, though Bruce had inadvertently introduced him into the world of crime-fighting. Through Bruce and Batman, as well as the tragic loss of his family, Robin had been born.

The old man patted his young friend on the back, and then grew somber. "It really is good to have you back. You couldn't begin to understand what a relief it is to see you after all this time."

"I should have come back sooner."

"Perhaps, but a man must be allowed to choose his own path. Isn't that what Master Bruce said before you left?"

"Yeah, I guess he did." There was a silence between them. Dick shoved his hands into his pockets. Bruce had said a lot before his protégé had set off on his own. Some of it Dick had agreed to. Some of it he had taken to heart. There was a lot of respect in his heart for the man who had been so generous as to make Richard Grayson his ward. Still, anything Dick had taken away from being sidekick to the Dark Knight had been left scarred by his own concerns for the man who seemed submerged in the darkness.

Dick turned to gaze to the yard, where colors of autumn invaded Wayne Manor. He remembered his younger days, when he was only nine and he would spend hours on end climbing those trees with Alfred keeping an eye on him. It must have caused the old man a world of pain. Dick blamed it on his lineage, and the butler couldn't have agreed more. No mere boy could do some of those considerably dangerous tricks as the Boy Wonder, a nickname he had earned leaping from rooftop to rooftop and battling evil right alongside the Caped Crusader himself.

"We've really missed you," Alfred said quietly. "Both of us."

Dick nodded. "How is he?"

"Not himself. He prefers the night more than in the old days."

"Sounds like Bruce."

The butler lay a hand on the boy's shoulder. "It is as though he has been consumed by darkness…by the Batman. I'm worried for him. He spends day after day in that cave of his, and night after night on the streets of Gotham. He hasn't slept in his own bed in over a month."

Dick shrugged. "So he's busy."

"It isn't healthy."

"Of course it isn't." Dick sighed. "Look, I don't know what you expect me to do with him. It's Bruce. You know how he'll respond to anything I try to do."

"He's doesn't have superpowers. He can't fly, he can't breathe under water, he can't outrun a bullet. Master Dick, he may be a part of the Justice League, but he's still only human." The old butler sighed. "He needs to remember that."

Dick lay a hand on Alfred's shoulder this time. "He doesn't have time to remember. I think that's what makes him the best."

The butler gave him a thoughtful look and nodded.

"I suppose you're right, Master Dick."

The young man smiled. "So, think he has time for an old friend?"

2

He stood in the shadows of the Dark Knight's lair, peering out over the catwalk where the sleek, black vehicle sat. For a time, Dick was hesitant to take that step across the threshold, into the realm where Robin had been born, but he had come here for a reason. There was purpose in each and every step he took these days, just as there was for Batman. Taking a deep breath, Dick started down the short flight of stairs.

The vast chamber was empty, which was a little surprising, especially with the Batmobile untouched. Dick looked about, taking a moment to realize that nothing had changed since he had last left the Dark Knight's side. He continued on past the Batmobile to the metallic stairway leading up to the massive computer where Bruce plotted his war on crime. There, on the deck overlooking the rest of the Batcave, standing in front of a wide array of monitors and computer consoles, was a tall, athletic man, a black cape flowing from his shoulders.

The cowl of the Batman's costume was pulled back, hanging from his neck. Dual fans overhead, set on high, poured icy air down about him, causing the cape to ripple as it flowed away from his husky frame.

"I didn't expect you back until August."

Dick drew a slow breath. He watched his mentor's fingers slide deftly over one of the consoles, his eyes drinking in the details that flashed on the monitor in an endless cycle of information. Dick wondered what his mentor was working on at the moment. There had never been such a meticulous detective in the world of crime-fighting.

"Yeah. I'm a little early," he admitted quietly, giving his shoulders a little shrug.

Bruce didn't look back as he continued to scroll through data on one of the many monitors that blinked back at him.

"Did you ever tell Barbara the truth?" Dick said quietly, burning twin holes into his mentor's back with his stare, demanding the truth. If Bruce felt the heat of the glare—which Dick expected he did—he didn't show it.

"Not for me to do," Bruce grumbled.

Dick let his eyes linger on the monitors for a time. He didn't hate Bruce, not by any stretch of the imagination. But, occasionally, he questioned his mentor's harsh approach. It was why he'd left for the west coast three years before, to establish the Titans in Jump City.

"In other words, it's my job."

Bruce nodded, peering to his protégé from the corner of his eye. "It always was your job. You…protected her. You guided her when I wouldn't. Batgirl trusted Robin, and Robin guided Batgirl. It's only fair that Dick tell Barbara the truth."

"And what about Batman?"

"Babs is a smart girl," Bruce replied, going back to his work. "I'm sure she'd figure it all out on her own once she learns Dick Grayson is Robin."

"Was. Dick Grayson is enrolling at Gotham U. first thing tomorrow morning."

For once, perhaps the first time in years, Dick saw Bruce smile. The big man rested a hand on his ward's shoulder. Despite their differences, their friendship was intact.

"Maybe one more night?"

3

What is it you want, Dick? What are you really doing here?

The young man touched the stylized R emblazoned over his left breast as the voice in his head ridiculed him, and stared quietly into the shadows. How the hell should I know?

If you don't know, the voice taunted, then why do you keep coming back?

"Good question, Bruce," he breathed softly, kneeling on the parapet of the rooftop of an old apartment building. Gotham City lay stretched out before him in a haunting array of everlasting shadow, ranging from the overcast sky to the crime-infested streets and alleyways, somehow all connected by the labyrinth of concrete towers between them. Below lay one of those alleys that had only just recently become a point of interest for Dick Grayson's alter-ego.

He drew a slow breath and pulled his domino mask carefully from his utility built. He stared down at the mask, considering his next move. Batman had warned him about this, that knowing would only make his duty harder. Very much so, he decided as he slipped the mask over his eyes. But worth it all the same.

With a soft sigh, Dick Grayson pressed the mask into place, completing the transformation. Then, Robin rose to his feet on the parapet and dropped off the building, allowing the rush of the air against his face soothe his nerves. He brought up his right arm and fired the grappling gun, snagging a rooftop across the way. As he swung across the dark alley, black and gold cape flapping wildly behind him.

His boots landed silently onto the balcony just outside the apartment he'd set his sights on a week before. He peered through the window into the darkness. It didn't look like anyone was home. Still, Batman had taught him better than that. He tested the sliding door, knowing before he did that it would be locked. He selected a small tool from his utility belt and went to a knee before the lock. A moment later, he rose to his feet and slid the door open. Once inside, Robin slid the door shut and started through the shadows.

He knew where she'd be. He chose a door on the far side of the room and strode that way. The apartment was definitely a woman's apartment, neat and tidy, lavishly furnished the way only the daughter of Gotham P.D.'s Commissioner Jim Gordon could. Had it really been four years now since Batgirl had been born, since she had joined Batman and Robin in a series of missions going up against some of Gotham's grimmest villains?

As his training permitted, Robin soundlessly pushed open the door to Barbara's den and peered to the room. The glow of the computer screen was the only lighting in the room. The young man strode on in and started to look about. Not a single sound…was that right? Maybe there really wasn't anyone here.

Wrong again, Dick. He whirled about instinctively, throwing up his arm. Like a lightning bolt he disarmed his attacker, wrestling the shadow to the ground in a rush. Something metallic clamored to the floor. Robin fell over the shape, pressing his wrist under the assailant chin. It had all happened so fast. Just a little rush of air behind him had been enough to save him.

Eyes narrowed, he searched the shadowed face before him. For the briefest of moments, neither dared to even breathe.

"You…" came Barbara Gordon's trembling voice.

"Babs!" Robin blurted, and lessened the pressure of his hold. In a rush, he scrambled to his feet, almost melting back into the shadows. He stood there, over her, waiting. Finally, Barbara allowed herself to rise off the floor, supporting herself with one wrist as her other hand lay over her mouth, staring up at Robin in shock. He reprimanded himself for coming into a situation, knowing the young woman's capabilities. He could have gotten her hurt, but he was grateful that she looked all right.

And then, Robin's face flushed as he realized that she was nearly naked from the waist up. Only her bra shielded her from wandering eyes. From her waist was a band of yellow—the utility belt of Barbara Gordon's alter-ego—and below that the purple tights caressed her athletic legs, with boots of a slightly darker shade. He swallowed hard and took the cape from his shoulders, offering it to her. She accepted and drew the titanium-weave fabric around her slender figure as she stared up at him. Her breathing became steady after only a few seconds.

"But I was so careful," she said quietly. She appeared to be trying to gather her strength. He must have scared the hell out of the poor woman. "How'd you know who I am?"

Robin drew a slow breath. He'd promised he'd be careful. He owed Bruce that much, despite their differences.

"Because of who I am, what I do," he replied. He slipped nearer to her, lowering to a knee as he set his eyes on her once more. "I'm a detective, remember?"

"That's right," Barbara muttered. "One of Gotham's great defenders."

If you're such a great defender, why is it you feel like such an ass right now, Dick?

Ignoring the taunting voice in his head, Robin held out a hand. "Come on," he said gently. "There's something I have to tell you."

4

"What will become of the Teen Titans?" Beast Boy asked, shattering an uncomfortable silence. Three sets of eyes focused on the green shape-shifter.

And, just when the others thought Starfire couldn't possibly shed another tear, the Tamaranian began sobbing again. She was kneeling at the edge of Titans Tower rooftop, peering out over the harbor to Jump City beyond, the city that had given life to a team of upstart teen superheroes, and for nearly three years now, had been her home. It seemed distant now, as if the harbor had grown and swept the island further out to sea.

Raven lay a hand on her friend's shoulder and fixed Beast Boy with a cold stare. His face flushed, and immediately he regretted the question. He wondered if he should even have opened his yap at all. Turning from Raven's glare, he sat down next to Starfire and folded his arms over his knees. It'd been a long while since he'd felt so insignificant. Somehow, without Robin, everything about Titans Tower seemed so small. Everything, that is, except the harbor that surrounded the small island. Even the city skyline across the rippling waves seemed far away. Beast Boy sighed heavily as his head sunk deeper into his folded arms.

"Yeah, yeah, dumb question," he grumbled.

A hand touched his, and he peered over to Starfire. She was smiling, or at least trying to, through her tears. "The Titans will become exactly what they are meant to become." Beast Boy forced a little smile and brushed a tear from her cheek.

"Yeah. I guess." He didn't have the heart to add, Whatever that means.

Starfire sighed, leaning into him. A cool breeze caressed the rooftop, wrapping the broken team in its gentle embrace. The Tamaranian pulled a loose strand of red hair from her face and hooked it behind an ear. We must really be a sorry sight, Beast Boy thought glumly as he watched her. They hadn't even been leaderless for a full day, and they had already crumbled beneath the weight of obligation. It seemed their motivation had vanished right along with Robin.

Beast Boy didn't like the thought of that, but he'd never seen himself as a leader. He was a carefree prankster, and he'd always assumed that if anything were to happen to Robin that Cyborg would take the reigns. It just seemed a fitting choice in the line of succession. Now, Cyborg seemed as oblivious to the future as he felt. Even if Beast Boy liked the excitement that came with suspense, he decided it wasn't worth the uncertainty. Without Robin, the Titans might as well be dead.

Was it really over? Were the Titans truly finished?

Sure seemed that way.

The Titans will become exactly what they are meant to become, Starfire had said.

"Dick Grayson," Cyborg murmured after a time. "Jeesh, what a mind bender, huh? I mean, think of what that means. Robin… Our Robin is Dick Grayson."

Raven nodded slowly. "And we wondered how he managed to supply the tower with all this technology. All this time we knew he was resourceful. We just never realized how resourceful he really was."

"Explains a few things about the Batman too," Cyborg agreed quietly.

Starfire gave a low, pitiful moan. Beast Boy touched her shoulder. She leaned deeper into his wiry frame, weeping softly against him. The shape-shifter swallowed and draped a comforting arm over her shoulders. The poor girl's tears could cause entire oceans to overflow. Why wouldn't those two just shut up about Robin? He wanted to focus on the future of the Titans, not on the past.

What the heck were they doing, anyway? Moping? That'd never do. After all, they were the Teen Titans. They never gave up, even if it seemed all hope was lost.

Robin was gone. Retired…was that the right word? Dick Grayson had gone back to Gotham City, taking Robin with him. Probably never to return. Dick was done with the superhero business. That's what he'd said when he'd revealed to them the truth, barely an explanation as to why he was leaving. Just that it seemed the right thing to do.

Beast Boy rose to his feet.

"Let's go," he said in a low voice. "We don't need him anyway."

Once more, three sets of eyes turned to him.

"We're the Teen Titans, right? Well, Jump City needs the Titans. Robin wouldn't want us to quit just because Dick Grayson decided on a career change."

Raven lifted a brow. Cyborg folded his arms over his chest. Starfire's shoulders trembled as she gave a long, slow sigh, as if steadying herself for the inevitable.

"For once," Raven said slowly, "you don't sound entirely stupid."

He tried to glare back at her. He blushed, unable to hold the expression. "Can't play follow the leader without one," he replied. "Right?"