A/N: Thanks for the comments TMNTGFKittySidekick01 and Blas! You guys are awesome! :)

Chapter 5:

Crime Alley – midnight:

Batman was pacing. He had landed on the flat rooftop of this centrally-located office building nearly two hours ago. For the first ten minutes, he had crouched in the shadows between the two air conditioner units, scanning the streets below. The next ten minutes were spent sitting on the peak of the roof of the building next door, searching the sky and the rooftops for an athletic shadow. That was followed by thirty minutes of lying on his stomach at the highest edges of various buildings, carefully studying the darkest corners of several different streets.

He had slowly circled around the perimeter of Crime Alley once and that took almost thirty-six minutes. The next twenty-four minutes had been spent darting behind and around random buildings throughout the area. And now here he was, back where he had started and pacing in frustration.

The voice that Bruce had heard earlier in the afternoon belonged to the boy; Batman was more than slightly confident after having ten hours to ponder the obvious clues. Who else would warn an obviously wealthy man to leave? Nobody in Crime Alley looked out for anybody else. The law-abiding citizens living in this section of Gotham City had a saying: "Keep to yourself and keep your head down".

The Caped Crusader chose to call off the search for now. The kid had been seriously injured; hopefully he was at home, in bed and healing. Batman decided to wait two more nights then come back and repeat this evening's actions.

Just as he pulled out his Bat-communicator, the hero noticed a movement on the street below. There was a dark-green sedan driving slowly down the road with no headlights. That in itself was suspicious. A short figure suddenly darted across the street and the car immediately sped up.

Batman was about to jump off the roof to investigate when he heard the easily recognizable rattling sounds of several automatic weapons. He sighed as he swung to the ground: another gang war.


Saturday, March 27

I have decided to stay home tonight. My ribs feel like they're bursting into flames whenever I move. The pain recedes to a deep, throbbing ache when I lie still so that's pretty much what I've been doing.

That villain last night got me good on the side of the head. There's a small cut but I guess it's fairly deep because it wouldn't completely stop bleeding. I finally wrapped a piece of Mom's quilting fabric around my head and I probably look like an idiot. But it worked – I was able to go get something to eat without streaks of red sliding down my neck.

Speaking of eating, I saw Bruce Wayne today when I went to Crime Alley for lunch! I have no idea why he was here but he was alone and vulnerable. I warned him to leave but he started asking questions so I was the one who left. What would a guy worth millions of dollars be doing in such a dangerous part of Gotham City?


Robin's writing was interrupted by the unmistakable sound of gunfire. He lifted his head and began debating whether or not to get involved. But it stopped less than a minute after it started so the boy let it go. Either the criminals had killed each other or someone had fled. It didn't really matter; it just meant that he didn't have to move and for that he was grateful.


Two nights later:

Robin was thinking about staying home for the third night in a row. His torso was still sore but he was able to deal with the pain. However, the normal stretches he did every day had been reduced to a single lap of walking around the outside of his house. He didn't even feel like jumping, much less fighting.

But last night had been filled with gunfire and several piercing screams. Robin couldn't help but wonder if the bad guys had noticed his absence. Was last night's violence a product of his selfish decision to rest his damaged ribs?

If so, taking another night off would be too risky. There were children in Crime Alley; he couldn't just leave them to fend for themselves. If any kids became orphans because Robin was demonstrating weakness, he would never forgive himself.

The material wrapped around his chest hadn't moved since Robin had put it on. He was scared to look at his injury but the fabric was bulky and would throw off his balance during a fight. So, he slipped his leotard off his shoulders and began unwinding the long cloth.

It looked better than he had anticipated. The bruise was still dark but the spots were yellow and green instead of black. He didn't know what to do about the bulge, which looked the same as it had when he received the injury. When he gently pressed on the rib, a fiery bolt of pain shot through his entire torso.

"Shoot," the young crime-fighter muttered. "No allowing lucky punches tonight."

He curved into a backbend and nearly screamed in agony when his chest stretched with the movement. Dropping to his back, he took several deep breaths as tears of pain trickled down his cheeks.

Robin knew he wasn't good enough to fight anybody if he wasn't using his own techniques. And his acrobatic style demanded the flexibility of his entire body. Right now, he couldn't even do a simple backbend without almost passing out.

A shrill cry of pain sliced through the night air and Robin made his decision. Carefully standing up, he slipped his leotard over his shoulders, slowly pulled his tunic over his head and wrapped his small, black mask across his eyes. Crime Alley needed protection and it was Robin's job to do that.

Glancing back at the poster on his wall, Robin stated, "I'm not weak. This pain is nothing compared to what some little kid could feel if I fail to save someone. Love you guys."

Another shout burst through the new sound of gunfire and the eleven-year-old crime-fighter began jogging away from home. Every step hurt but nobody was going to die because of him.


The Batcave:

"More felonious activity in Crime Alley, sir," Alfred stated. He was standing by the Current Criminal Activity Bat-disclosure Unit, holding the card that had just exited the machine.

"Again?! This happened last night, too!" Batman exclaimed.

"Well, sir, you did say that the boy was rather injured. Perhaps he has chosen to stay home, wherever that is, and try to heal. I know you suspect that he is part of the reason why Crime Alley has slightly calmed down. If that's correct, sir, then it's no surprise that crime has increased since his injury."

"Hm," Batman murmured in agreement. "I'll go out there again tonight. Last night was almost a bloodbath, Alfred. I can't allow that to continue."

"Be careful, sir," the faithful butler said as the Caped Crusader climbed into the Batmobile and roared away.


Crime Alley:

The two gangs were spread out along the main street of the area, hiding behind trash cans and walls and fire hydrants and whatever else they could use for cover. Robin was flattened against the side wall of the first building on the north end of the street. Bullets were flying across the street at random times – there was no way to predict when they would be released or where they would hit. Running down either sidewalk, taking out bad guys on the way, would be suicide.

"The Bat!" someone suddenly yelled. The declaration spurred a stampede as members of both gangs began racing away. Robin's eyes widened; they were sprinting towards his position! Batman must be at the other end of the street. Turning away, Robin started walking toward the nearest alley in order to avoid being crushed. He froze, however, when the sound of a crying child assaulted his ears.

Whirling toward the noise, he sucked in a sharp breath of dismay. There were three large guys holding a small family hostage directly across the street from his position. Robin peered around the corner of his building. Batman was at least twenty yards away and occupied with seven or eight bad guys. Something was going to happen before Batman could get there and Robin wasn't going to allow that.

"Let them go," he growled softly as he stepped into full view of the three criminals. Two of them had thick necks and bulging muscles – Robin named them Bull and Bear. The third, probably the leader, was large but not muscular.

"Oh, look, it's the itty bitty boy in the mask," the leader taunted. The tone of his high-pitched voice was condescending and he was sneering at the small figure in front of him.

"You should leave, little one," he continued. "You're no match for these two." The man flicked his head toward Bull and Bear and his sneer turned into a confident grin.

Robin didn't hesitate. The bigger men were holding the parents and little girl while the leader was slightly off to the side. Before any of them realized what was happening, Robin had sprinted across the street and barreled into the leader. Stumbling back, the man threw a wild punch that passed harmlessly over the boy's head. Robin countered with a kick to the face that knocked the leader out cold.

Two shadows suddenly loomed over the young crime-fighter and he turned around. His torso was screaming and he was panting from the pain. But the family had been released because Robin had redirected the criminals' attention.

He wanted to wrap his arms around his ribcage but that would show the men exactly where to attack. The bones were on fire and the muscles were throbbing. But Bear, the smaller of the two men who was still at least two times Robin's size, was throwing a punch and all thoughts of pain fled as adrenaline rushed in.

The hit was aimed at his stomach so Robin twisted left, allowing the fist to slide past his body. Another, larger, fist whistled by his ear and the boy's eyes widened. That had been too close. Both men were facing him now, forming a small circle and glaring viciously. Robin had no room to do anything except crouch or jump. He saw two pairs of eyes connect and silently communicate a plan.

A twitch; that was all Robin needed to see. The dark eyes of Bear glanced right and the eleven-year-old ducked. Bull's meaty fist, instead of connecting with Robin's head, hit the chin of his large partner. Bear yelped in both pain and anger while Robin crawled through the legs of the distracted man. He stood up in the middle of the street and quickly turned, expecting an immediate attack.

Bear was the only one there and Robin instantly realized that he had walked right into their trap. Bull had swiftly circled behind him and suddenly he had one arm around the boy's neck and the other across his chest. The large muscles contracted and Robin saw black worms dancing in front of him. Pain exploded throughout his ribcage and everyone heard the loud 'crack'. The young vigilante gasped in agony and wanted to give up.

But Bear was turning back toward the frightened family – Robin briefly wondered why they hadn't run away yet – and growling. Both the action and the sound were, to Robin, unacceptable; whatever the man was thinking about doing had to be stopped.

The young crime-fighter's arms were trapped by his sides, his vision was blurry and he couldn't breathe. His legs, however, were free and uninjured. Tilting his head to the left, as far as he could with a thick arm around his neck, Robin threw his right leg up and hoped something good would happen. His foot connected solidly with some part of Bull's face and the man automatically released the boy with a short cry of pain.

Robin bent over, gasping for air and biting his cheek to stay awake. There was a dripping sound behind him and he glanced over his right shoulder. Bull was covering his face with both hands and blood was sliding down his arms. It was time to finish this job so he could take care of Bear, who was now holding the little girl by her long, blonde hair.

The eleven-year-old was already exhausted and in agony so he went with something simple. Standing all the way up, he took two steps forward then threw himself into a rather sloppy back handspring. That was followed by a back tuck that took Robin over the man's head. He timed the kick-out perfectly, as he usually did, and slammed both feet into the back of Bull's neck. The large man toppled forward and hit the asphalt face-first. Robin, instead of landing on his hands and springing out of the trick, crumpled to the ground and squeezed his eyes shut. Everything hurt and he couldn't breathe.

"He…help, ppplease," came the soft, frightened voice of the little girl. Robin's eyes flipped open and he slowly forced himself to stand up. Turning around, he glared at the blurry image of Bear, who had just pulled out a gun and was pointing it at the girl's head.

There was nothing he could do to stop a bullet that was so close to her head. Even with his speed, by the time he got there she would be dead.

"Let her…" Robin paused to wheeze painfully, "…go," he finished quietly.

"What are you going to do if I don't?" the man growled.

Something flew past Robin's head and hit Bear's hand, leaving a strip of red where the gun used to be. Without hesitation the boy ran at the man. He began with a front handspring this time, using the momentum to fly into a front layout. The trapeze artist in him felt the proximity of something solid so he bent his knees and latched onto the shoulders of the startled man. Swinging himself up, Robin began pummeling Bear's face and head.

Bear wasn't completely stupid. He had heard the crack and knew where Robin was vulnerable. Blood was now streaming down his face, blurring his vision, but he didn't need to see to slam two large fists into the sides of the young boy. Robin went limp, Bear fell back and the man succumbed to unconsciousness when his head hit the ground.


There were men all around him but Batman could see three large criminals surrounding a small family. The sight was obstructed by a large fist that the Caped Crusader easily dodged. Less than three minutes later he was done with the eight gang members that had been brave, or stupid, enough to attack him. He looked up the street and was surprised to see one of the large men down. Then he found out why. A small body flipped over the head of the biggest criminal and Batman watched in awe as the boy kicked out, shoving both feet squarely into the back of the muscular neck.

Batman was expecting the athletic boy to easily land on his feet. But the kid crumpled to the ground instead and curled himself into a ball. The last man standing was pulling out a weapon and Batman reached into his utility belt.

The boy, however, was on his feet again and standing directly in between Batman and the large man.

"Let her…go."

That was definitely the same voice Batman had heard as Bruce Wayne but this time it was full of anger and pain instead of sorrow. The criminal snarled something and the Caped Crusader didn't wait to find out what was going to happen.

Taking two steps to his right, Batman threw the Bat-a-rang perfectly, missing the boy's head and knocking the gun out of the man's hand. His eyes widened in amazement when the kid immediately sprinted toward the muscular man, flew into a front handspring and executed a flawless front layout that landed him on the criminal's shoulders. The Caped Crusader was also impressed with the swing up that gave the boy extra power behind the punches that were now flying around the man's head.

But the kid's ribs were injured – it had only been two nights since Joker had attacked him and his torso had probably taken a least a little beating tonight. The criminal slammed his large fists into the boy's sides and the small body went limp. It was too late for the man, though, as he fell backwards and hit his head on the hard surface of the street.

The momentum of the fall tossed the young boy off the man's shoulders and he landed in a heap on the sidewalk that was four feet away. Batman sprinted toward the scene as the girl and her parents ran away as fast as they could.

None of the criminals were moving so Batman passed by without a second glance. The boy was groaning softly, his eyes were squeezed shut and his arms were wrapped around his small, trembling torso. Batman quietly knelt by his side and patiently waited for him to open his eyes.


Robin felt himself flying. The sidewalk rose up to meet him and he shut his eyes in anticipation of the hard landing. He kept his head curled into his chest, saving himself from slipping into unconsciousness when he hit the ground.

Something was groaning. No, not something, him. Robin shakily wrapped both arms around his ribcage, trying to put out the intense fire dancing in his chest. A light breeze drifted across his face and he sensed someone near him. Who had been able to get up already?

The young crime-fighter opened his eyes, expecting to see the angry glare of an injured criminal. Instead, through hazy vision, Robin recognized the dark head of Batman. There was no way he could escape this time. The man was right beside him and Robin decided that he couldn't move anyway.

"Hi," Batman said quietly. He stared into a pair of pain-filled, light-blue eyes and waited for a response.

"Sor…ry," Robin whispered, assuming he had angered the man by interfering in the fight. "It's just that you, um, were already fighting…" he trailed off, exhausted. A wave of pain rolled around his torso and he clenched his jaw to avoid screaming in front of Batman.

"You saved that family," the Caped Crusader stated. He heard guilt in the boy's tone and wondered why it was there. "I probably wouldn't have made it down here in time."

The only response was a clenched jaw and a wheezing gasp of air.

"Can I help you? I have a friend who's pretty good at taking care of injuries."

Robin hesitated then whispered, "No, I got it, thanks. I'm just, uh, going to rest for a minute so, um, you can go. I'll be okay." Every syllable was outlined in agony and the eleven-year-old was pretty sure he sounded like an idiot.

"Are you sure? He's had a lot of practice; I get hurt all the time."

That comment caused a slight smirk. "Right," the boy said somewhat sarcastically. "You're Batman! You're a…a super hero!"

"That doesn't mean I don't get hurt. I had to wrap my torso the other night because somebody," Batman paused and searched the boy's eyes carefully before continuing, "cracked one of my ribs."

Robin's eyes widened and regret swam through the blue circles. "I didn't mean…you weren't supposed…I can't let…" The sentence wouldn't completely form and Robin felt like cotton balls were being stuffed in his mouth.

"You're severely injured," Batman said. "I saw Joker break a rib the other night and your eyes are going in and out of focus. You probably have at least a mild concussion."

"Just…I'm fine," Robin whispered. He forced himself to stand up, pushing Batman's arms away when they attempted to support him.

"Thanks for the pep talk," Robin said as he turned around. He staggered dizzily toward the alley across the street and disappeared into the shadows.

"Not going to happen, kiddo," the Caped Crusader declared softly. He waited thirty seconds and then began to follow.


Sixteen minutes later:

Apparently the boy knew he was being followed. Batman had been tailing him from a good distance and he realized that they had just made a complete circle around the main section of Crime Alley. The kid was smart, observant and stubborn. Why didn't he want Batman to help him?

"Can you just leave already?" a weary voice whispered from above.

Batman looked up in surprise. The boy was sitting on the first landing of a metal fire escape. How…?

"You looked down, I jumped up," Robin stated, answering the unasked question. "I'm really tired so, if you don't mind, I'd like to go home without being followed around like a criminal. Please," he added as an afterthought.

"I'm just concerned," Batman replied. "Look at yourself. You're slumped against a metal staircase, fatigue loudly expressing itself through every inch of your body, and your breathing is an unhealthy wheezing sound."

"I can take care of myself," Robin said, the tone slightly defensive. "I don't have a bunch of cool weapons or muscular arms or an awesome uniform but I've been doing this for a while and I'm fine on my own."

The statement had taken the rest of his reserves and he closed his eyes against the pain. He started to drift off but slapped himself hard on the right cheek. A fire escape in the middle of Crime Alley was not a good place to go to sleep, especially since he was still "the boy in the mask".

"At least tell me your name."

Robin thought for a minute. Was there any possible way that Batman could figure out his real identity if he knew his crime-fighting name? He didn't know anything about the Batcave, he didn't even know there was such a place, so he had no idea that there were powerful machines just waiting to receive and give information. Gotham City, a place he had never even heard of until he was ten, had only been his home for a year.

"If I tell you, will you leave?" Robin asked.

"Yes," Batman replied. For tonight, anyway.

The boy slid down the railing of the fire escape, landing with a wince and a grimace.

"Robin," he whispered softly then whirled around and raced away.

"Robin," Batman repeated, astonished that the kid could still run. They were in Crime Alley, though, and running was usually how one traveled in this section of the city.

Turning in the opposite direction, Batman strode toward the Batmobile. He finally had a starting point – a name.

Robin.