"I C-A-N. I think I can, I think I can, I think I can, I think I can, I think I can, I think I can, I think I can, I think I can, I think I can, I think I can, I think I can, I think I can."

- The Pillows 'I Think I Can' -

Oh Silent Prayer of My Thoughts:

By: The BatThing

"Accept it." Robin breathed deeply and sighed, feeling his warm breath against his hand. It was time to move on, time to accept what everyone was saying. Not muttering anything more, Tim sat in the fading sunlight in the 'backyard' of where Gordon and he lived. There wasn't any grass, just a single tree in the middle of the – almost empty - parking lot.

"What are you doing?"

Turning around, Robin faced a younger girl, looking down at him, confused. She couldn't be any older than ten.

"What are you doing, just sitting here?" Her big blue eyes blinked at him and her mouth was hanging open. "Why do you have on sunglasses? It's not that sunny out."

"Eh?" Tim carefully felt his glasses, and then shrugged, thankful that he had decided to wear them rather than the mask. "They're, um, they're in style."

Apparently the girl believed him, and now she was starting to fashion a smile. "My name's Annika. I'm nine. Do you have any sidewalk chalk?"

Robin blinked, trying to take in the information being given to him. "Sidewalk chalk?"

"Yeah, you know sidewalk chalk." She pulled out a single piece of pink chalk from her pocket and squatted down beside him. Without a word she wrote her name on the pavement. When she finished she looked up at the boy. "And your name - for the record."

The boy thought about how to answer that. He could tell her Robin; sure, that was a boy's name. But he could already hear Gordon gripping about how the neighbors found out the masked boy was named Robin. "It's, um – Quinn."

"Quinn?"

"Yeah. Quinn."

The girl wrote his name down beside hers and then looked up at the boy she now knew as 'Quinn'. "You're old."

"Eh?"

"You're like, 15. I'll probably get in trouble for talking to you."

"Then you shouldn't talk to me."

"There isn't anyone else." She handed him the chalk, which he accepted, and stretched out her legs. "This place doesn't have many kids around, just a bunch of old people who don't like change … or for that matter sidewalk chalk."

Robin listened to her ramble as he drew a line on the parking lot ground, looking at the color. Pink. The boy began to write down random letters and numbers.

"They say this isn't a safe spot to live, Commissioner Gordon lives around here. That should make it safe, but mom and dad don't think so anymore. Not after the bombings. They said that he's probably a target now-a-days. We almost didn't move here because of that, but our home was destroyed by the bombs."

"So was mine."

Annika's eyes got wide, as if she suddenly was seeing a new person. "Really?"

"Yeah, really."

The girl smiled all the more. "Then you understand. Where do you live?"

"I, um." He scratched the back of his head, not really wanting to tell her he lived with the Commissioner. "With, the, er – the Commissioner."

"Oh, so you're his kid? I thought his kid died, that's what mom and dad said."

"He's my, my dad's friend." Tim could feel his cheeks turning red as the girl looked almost doubtful. "What?"

There was a moment of hesitation before she spoke. "I'm sorry. My best friend lost her grandpa in the bombing too."

Robin didn't look at her, nor did he reply. The two sat for a few minutes, the sun setting faster and faster. It was almost dark.

"ANNIKA!"

"Whops, that's my mom, I better go!" She jumped to her feet and started off, only to stop and turn back around. "My sidewalk chalk, you can keep it."

Tim looked down at the chalk and then back to the girl. "Thanks." She ran off, leaving Robin to himself. The boy got up and dusted off the seat of his pants as he walked back to the house. It was the first time, in a while, where his thoughts were solely on Barbara. 'I don't even know how she died.'

"Ah, so you're home." Gordon was sitting in front of the television when Tim entered the house. His eyes landed on the piece of pink chalk in the boy's hand. "Where were you?"

"Talkin'." Tim started for his room, feeling the need to sleep.

"Talking to whom?"

"A girl called Annika."

Gordon closed his mouth and raised and eyebrow. "A girl?"

"A ten-year-old girl. I told her my name was Quinn. So, just incase you get any questions."

"Well, at least you're making friends – no matter the age." Gordon turned back to the television. "I'll remember that, Quinn."

Robin stood, and then took a step backwards. "Jim, can I ask you a question?"

The man looked over his shoulder. "Yes."

"H-how did Barb die?" The boy lowered his head but kept his eyes locked on the man before the television. "It's not really my business, but – I, just was …wondering."

For a few moments the only noise was the television, a commercial advertising. "High Standards, Low Prices – Meijer."

Gordon flicked his remote up and switched off the T.V. He got to his feet and faced the boy, turning his head a little. "She was driving – at least that's what the man who found her, told me. She died on impact, I don't know much else."

"Eh?" Robin closed his mouth, feeling bad for his surprise. "I-I'm sorry. It's just been in the back of my mind."

"Don't be."

The boy offered a small smile. "Goodnight, Jim."

"'Night, and Robin? I might be getting up early tomorrow and going to Barbara's apartment – I think it's about time I brought her stuff home." The man shrugged his shoulders with a weary look. "I'll swing by and pick you up for work on the way back, ok?"

"S-Sure."

The man smiled, and then headed towards the kitchen. Robin made his way for bed. When he did finally fall asleep, the boy had a fitful one, tossing and turning. He awoke, thoughts steaming. "Barbara's costume!" He jumped out of bed and threw his sunglasses on. How could he have just let something like this slide. It wasn't just Barb's costume – it was all their costumes. 'Stupid, stupid, STUPID!'

Tim changed into a pair of shorts, a T-shirt, and laced his shoes – fumbling a little as he did so. He reached down and grabbed his backpack, tossing it over his arms and pulling it up to rest on his shoulders. The boy hurried out of his room and to the closet near the entrance. Robin opened the door and pulled out the old bike that sat inside. And then wheeled it outdoors and took off.

The sun was already coming up, as the boy biked to Dick Grayson's loft. It was located near the river – which took almost half an hour to get to – unfortunately. Tim let the bike fall to the ground as he sprung towards the river bay. As far as he knew – this was the only way to get into Dick's loft - the secret passage. It would be gross. The boy hurried and began to wade through the river, trying hard not to think how gross it actually was. He found the pipe that led in and made a face. Gross.

By the time he was inside he found it a waste. Dick had the place sealed – stupid, of course he would. "Damn it, Dick! How am I supposed to save the secret if you have the place sealed up!"

Wait.

That was it.

The boy hurried out of the muck and ran back to his bike, not enjoying the sloshy shoes and damp shorts he was now sporting. 'They can't sell Dick's loft, not yet. Bruce hasn't been found, and I haven't either. So that means that it's ours.'

Robin took a moment to breathe and think things through. When he got frantic he just acted – without thinking. Finally, after a moment or two, he headed towards Barb's.

Jim was already at Barbara's when Tim parked his bike. He looked at the car, a little worried, but made his way inside. It took a few minutes to convince the woman at the desk he knew Jim, and well, even then she called up to make sure.

"Mr. Gordon?"

There was a pause, and then a click. "Yes?"

"There is a boy down here who says he knows you and wants to come up. Say his name's Quinn." The woman blinked at Robin.

"Oh yes, I know him – send him up."

The boy made his way up and opened the door to her apartment, and saw Jim piling things into large black garbage bags. "What are you doing here – and how did you get here?"

"I took the bike from the closet." Robin glanced around. He didn't have a clue where Barbara would keep her costume. Not a clue.

"You're wet – and to be honest, smell." Gordon smiled a little. "What'd you fall in? Smells like the river. You'll probably want to change before we go to work."

Robin blinked and then looked down at his clothes. "Probably."

"Why'd you come?"

"I, uh, wanted to help."

"Help? Why?" The man was now moving on to the kitchen. "I think I have it almost done. But thanks."

'Where, where, where …' Robin moved toward the girl's room and opened the door, finding it still untouched. He could hear Jim still talking as he walked over to her chest of drawers. 'Crap, how am I supposed to know this? She never mentioned where she hid her stuff to him.'

The boy caught sight of a picture frame, and inside were the smiling faces of Dick and her. Both were apparently laughing – and obviously younger. Tim lifted the frame up and studied the faces for a moment, only to set it back down and continue his search.

There was a knock at the open door. "What are you doing? Or better yet, what are you looking for?" Jim had his arms crossed and didn't look pleased.

Robin jolted from looking under her bed and closed his open mouth.

Gordon walked into the room and looked under the bed himself, he straightened back up and looked at the boy standing before him. "Are you going to tell me what you're up too poking around my daughter's bedroom?"

Tim glared, not understanding why he suddenly was getting upset at the man. "It's none of your business."

"Oh, but it is. These are my daughter's things, things that are important to me, and you are poking around. I want to know why." Gordon held his ground, returning the glare being given.

"I was curious, that's all - curious and bored."

"I thought you were going to help me pack things up. How'd you get bored if you were working?"

"Working is boring."

"Then why'd you come?"

Robin crossed his own arms and tried to give a dangerous look. "If I were trying to find something then I doubt you would know about it. I wouldn't just, so blatantly look for something important. Like I said, I was bored."

"You didn't answer my question, if you hate working, why did you come?"

"I needed to get out of the house, I found the bike and decided to use it."

"Then go out and bike, I don't want you messing around with my daughter's things." Gordon gestured towards the door. "You can bike to work, it's not that far."

'At least he bought the excuse – now just to find a way to find the costume before he does.' Robin walked out of the room and headed slowly towards the door. "I – I'm sorry for poking around, I didn't mean to upset you."

Jim made a strange noise, probably something of doubt.

"Really, and um." The boy turned around to face the man. "I'll help you clean up."

"No, I think it'd be best to go back to the house and change. It's almost time for work anyway." The man studied the boy and then shook his head. "Did you, did you know Barbara?"

"No." Robin lifted his head a little. "I'm sorry though, about her loss. I – I knew of her."

"Thank you." Gordon pointed towards the door. "Now please, I need to finish this on my own."

When Tim was out of the room he cursed under his breath. 'Now what!' The boy glanced towards the stairs and then back at the closed door. It was crazy, but it would get Jim out of the room. The boy walked towards the stairwell and looked down it, then secured his glasses and jumped up on the railing. Without any warning, without any other thoughts, Tim allowed himself to free fall.

Jim jerked his head up at the sound of Robin's voice, the man dropped the large garbage bag and ran out of the room. "Robin?"

Silence for a moment then an answer. "I think I broke my ankle, shit."

The man ran towards the stairs and found the boy on the ground, clutching his leg. Gordon ran down the stairs and kneeled at Robin's side. "What the hell happened?"

"I think that's, urg, obvious."

"I see you managed to get your sunglasses back on." Jim reached down to the boy's foot and pulled the shoe off. "How in the hell did you fall?"

"Could I just get some ice or something." Robin groaned.

The commissioner frowned, feeling the ankle. "It's not broken, but probably badly twisted – what else?"

Tim winced as the man pressed against the foot. "My ribs, my arm, and my head, that's all that right now."

Gordon shook his head, smiling a little as he pushed the boy's hair back, showing a small gash. "You banged your head all right, but you'll be fine. Nevertheless, let's get you to a doctor who won't ask any questions."

"No doctor."

"Doctor."

"No."

"You could have cracked ribs, something unseen – you did just fall down a flight of stairs." The man got to his feet. "It'd probably be the smart thing to call an ambulance, but I won't – so take what you get. I'm going to lock up Barb's apartment, and then we're going to a doctor. Ok?"

Robin watched the man walk up the stairs and the boy couldn't help but grin a little. It had worked, now it was just a matter of getting back to the apartment and finding the costume before Jim did.

To be continued…