A/N: Thanks for the comment and compliment TMNTGFKittySidekick01 and mystery guest!
Chapter 7:
The Batcave:
Alfred gasped and grabbed the Bat-communicator. Robin had just appeared on the screen that was showing the feed from a camera by the border of Crime Alley. The boy was hunched over and stumbling and the butler could see a steady stream of liquid falling from his head. Either he was unusually sweaty on this rather cool night or he was bleeding profusely. The butler was almost certain that it was the latter.
"Pick up, sir, come on, pick up!" he whispered frantically.
Batman wasn't responding and Alfred watched in dismay as Robin disappeared behind a gas station. Would he stay there or find somewhere else? Why wasn't Batman answering?!
"What do you need?" Batman's voice came through the static and Alfred allowed himself a quick sigh of relief.
"Robin, sir, the boy! He's at the border of Crime Alley and he looks extremely injured!" The words practically flew out of Alfred's mouth and, on the other end of the Bat-communicator, Batman's eyes narrowed.
"Where?" the hero demanded and the butler gave him the location of the gas station.
"On my way," Batman said shortly and abruptly cut off the communication.
"Batcave out, sir, and find him quickly," Alfred whispered.
Batman was fighting three of Penguin's goons when his Bat-communicator started beeping. Ignoring the distraction, he finished off the henchmen and slapped his Bat-cuffs around the wrists of the villain.
Snatching his Bat-communicator out of his utility belt, and a little annoyed at the interruption, he asked, "What do you need?" But the feeling fled, his face darkened and his eyes narrowed when his butler told him what he had seen on the border of Crime Alley.
"On my way," he replied shortly. Shoving his Bat-communicator back into his utility belt, the Caped Crusader raced out the door of the old, abandoned fish store and jumped into the Batmobile.
"I knew he was going to get himself killed," the hero grumbled but his tone was full of concern instead of anger. He was on the other side of town, twenty-two miles away from the border of Crime Alley, and the kid could already be dead.
"Hang on, kiddo," he whispered as the Batmobile roared to life. Batman broke almost every single traffic law on his way across the city but it was two o'clock in the morning and nobody was around to get hurt by his recklessness.
Twenty minutes later the Caped Crusader slammed to a stop across the street from the gas station where Alfred had seen Robin. Quickly climbing out, he sprinted toward the back of the convenience store, hoping to find an injured kid instead of a dead body.
Rounding the corner, Batman stopped short. Robin was six feet away, lying on his side with his back against the wall. His body was curled into a tight ball and the Caped Crusader could hear the gasps that accompany the pain of breathing through broken ribs.
"Hey, Robin," he whispered and the boy flinched. Robin immediately uncurled, placed his palms flat against the ground and pushed himself up to standing. He leaned against the wall; the only thing Batman could see was a silhouette.
"Either go back to whatever hole you crawled out of," the boy snarled, "or come at me like a man. A broken nose shouldn't stop a villain from attempting to take out a kid."
Villain? Broken nose? Batman sighed – who had escaped this time?
"I'm Batman, kiddo," the Caped Crusader replied softly and the boy released a short, scornful laugh.
"And I'm millionaire Bruce Wayne," he replied sarcastically. "You're an idiot and a coward. Let's finish what we started so you can go back to prison."
Robin stepped away from the wall and into the light, swaying like a small branch in a heavy wind. Batman's eyes widened, both shock and concern racing through them, when he saw the boy's condition.
Blood was streaming from Robin's forehead and had spread across his entire face, making him look like a vampire who had just enjoyed a large meal. There were several dark bruises on his arms, visible even in the sickly, yellow glow from the lights of the gas station. His eyes were blinking rapidly and the hero could tell that Robin was struggling to stay awake. Batman could see the irregular bulge under the boy's red top and wondered if that was from Joker or last night or tonight or all three.
"Are you coming or not?" Robin suddenly growled. Without waiting for an answer, he threw himself into a round-off, intending to shove his feet through the man's face at the end of the subsequent back handspring. Instead of a full back handspring, however, Robin's arms gave out and he crumpled to the ground when his hands hit the gravel. The boy's face hit the dirt, followed by his torso, and he grunted in pain.
Batman didn't hesitate this time. It took him two long strides to cover the distance between them. The boy was breathing but unconscious when the man scooped him up and strode back to the Batmobile.
The Caped Crusader settled Robin into the passenger seat, buckled the safety Bat-belt then went around to his side and climbed in. Picking up the Batphone extension, he pushed the button to call Alfred.
"Did you find him, sir?" Alfred asked, trepidation in his tone. The child had looked like he was about to drop dead and the butler didn't want to hear that sentence come out of Batman's mouth.
"Yes and he's in bad shape, really bad shape. Blood everywhere, broken ribs, an obvious concussion and unconscious," Batman replied quickly.
"I'll prep the medical area, sir. I assume you're bringing him here?" There was no answer and Alfred replaced the receiver on the Batphone. At least the boy – Robin or Richard or whatever other name he used – was alive.
Something was restraining him; the villain was back. Robin began struggling, knowing he needed to take the crazy guy down. He was failing the citizens of Crime Alley and it would be his fault if someone died tonight. An annoyingly loud voice was making noises and Robin knew they were words but he couldn't make sense of them.
"Relax, Robin, I'm taking you somewhere safe. My friend is going to fix you up and then you can be on your way."
Batman was calmly trying to reason with the boy but he could tell that nothing was registering in Robin's brain. At least the kid was exhausted enough that his struggles ceased after less than a minute.
It had taken only ten minutes to drive to the Batcave. The Caped Crusader had pushed the Batmobile past its limit and broken every traffic law this time. Robin, this brave, young, strong boy, needed immediate medical attention so red lights and speed limit signs weren't important.
Climbing out of the Batmobile, Batman strode quickly to the passenger side, unbuckled the safety Bat-belt and gently lifted Robin off the seat. The boy began to struggle again and a startled Batman nearly dropped him.
Robin's eyes abruptly flipped open and he swung his left arm up. The small fist weakly smacked Batman on his nose, making it tingle without doing any damage.
"Robin!" Batman shouted at him and the boy widened his cloudy eyes. "I'm Batman and I'm trying to help you!"
Confusion slid across his face as the boy tried to process the sentence. It was something about Robin and Batman. Wait, he was Robin so was the dark man above him Batman?
"Where?" Robin suddenly snapped, trying to fill his voice with anger.
"My place, the Batcave," Batman replied, his voice calm.
There was a long moment of silence and the hero laid the child on a medical table.
"Batman?" the boy whispered, confusion still on his face and wrapped around the word.
"Yes, kiddo."
"NO!" Robin shouted as he hastily tried to sit up. He couldn't allow Batman to find out anything. And he was in Batman's house, trapped and at the mercy of the powerful crime-fighter! Was the man going to take his mask, make him reveal his identity?
"Relax," Batman repeated. "You're only going to be here long enough for my friend to patch you up. Then, if you want to, you can leave and I promise I won't follow you."
"You…you're not going to try to find out where I live?" Robin was puzzled at the man's sudden change in behavior.
"You have an identity to protect," the Caped Crusader replied softly. "I will never force you to reveal yourself unless your life is being threatened because of it."
Abruptly changing the subject, Robin asked, "Why are you helping me? Nobody ever helps me. Well, except the grocer and baker, once in a while. They sometimes leave out…"
The boy suddenly slapped a hand across his mouth. He was talking too much, he realized, and anything he said could be used to discover his identity.
Batman wanted to glance at Alfred but forced himself to remain focused on Robin. The end of the sentence was easy to fill in – they sometimes left out food. So that's how the boy was eating, living off any little extra thing that a brave citizen would leave out for him. That was a surprise to both men because Robin's comment was true – nobody ever helped anyone else in Crime Alley.
"We're helping you because, right now, it's difficult for you to help yourself," Batman answered the question. Robin's eyes narrowed and Batman sighed.
"You are perfectly capable of taking care of yourself, I know. However, I also know that your vision is blurry, your ribs are burning and you probably don't even realize that blood is covering your face. Therefore, we're helping you because we have the medical knowledge necessary to patch you up. That's something you don't seem to have. Yet."
"Almost done, young sir," Alfred declared as he finished the last stitch on the boy's forehead. "May I have a look at your chin?"
Robin suddenly realized that a sticky liquid was all over his cheeks, nose and chin. Another liquid was sliding off his forehead. The young crime-fighter hadn't noticed that the masked, white-haired man had been fixing the deep cut on his forehead after cleaning the wound with water. He didn't even have a chance to answer the old man's question because his chin was already being poked and prodded.
"Just a bruise, young sir, that can be quickly healed with a pack of Bat-ice." Alfred walked away and ten seconds later he was back with a small package of ice.
"Bat-ice?" Robin stated with disbelief in his tone. "This looks like regular ice to me."
"Yes, it does," Batman agreed. "However," he explained, "Bat-ice reduces swelling and lightens bruises much quicker than any pack of normal ice."
"Okaaaaay," the boy drew out the word skeptically.
"Regardless of what you think, young sir, please leave your hand here," Alfred put Robin's hand under the pack of Bat-ice that was resting against his chin, "so it can do its job."
Alfred picked up a small Bat-towel that he had already soaked in warm water. Carefully, he wiped away the blood that was covering the majority of Robin's face. Replacing the wet Bat-towel with a dry one, the butler gently patted the young features then dropped both cloths in the basket by his side. Robin obediently held the Bat-ice against his chin the entire time as he stared at the concerned face of the white-haired man.
"Time to sit up?" Batman inquired and Alfred nodded. Batman slid his left hand under the boy's small shoulder blades and, trying to be as gentle as possible, pushed him up.
Robin began gasping and wheezing, his eyes tightened into little clumps of eyelashes and his entire body began trembling. The pack of Bat-ice dropped to the ground but nobody noticed – the boy was trying to stay awake and the men were yelling at him to breathe.
"I think we'll have to cut it off, sir," Alfred whispered over the top of Robin's head. Batman nodded, opened the top drawer on his left and reached for the Bat-scissors.
"NO!" the eleven-year-old unexpectedly shouted. His eyes flew open and he shoved three hands away from his body while unsteadily sliding off the table.
"My tunic does not get cut. EVER!" he yelled sharply. His hands had clenched into fists and his formerly-trembling body was now tense with anger. The men stared at him in surprise and Robin dropped his head.
"Sorry," he mumbled regretfully. "I…it's just…I can't tell you why but just don't. Please."
A few drops of liquid splashed to the ground and Batman looked at Alfred with understanding in his eyes. Alfred nodded: the tunic was from the circus. It was probably part of his costume or something special that his parents had given him.
"Just pull it off," Robin whispered. "I can deal with it." Squishing his eyes together again, the young crime-fighter held his breath and raised his arms.
The two men instantly jumped into action. The red material was quickly pulled over the boy's head and they stared at what was obviously a green leotard. So the kid was wearing sheer tights, a leotard and a thin tunic. How had he survived the winter?!
Robin's eyes were open now and he was attempting to slide the straps of his leotard off his shoulders. He was still holding his breath, his face was turning red, and Batman swiftly pulled the straps over the thin shoulders and down the small arms. The boy exhaled loudly and slumped over, almost passing out. Robin would have fallen to the ground if Batman hadn't been standing right in front of him.
Alfred stared at the torn, thin material that was sloppily wrapped around Robin's midsection. The boy obviously had no idea what he was supposed to do with one broken rib, much less three.
"Perhaps some Bat-sleep would be helpful, sir," Alfred commented quietly. Batman nodded and silently slipped the can of Bat-sleep out of his utility belt.
"Wha' tha'?" Robin mumbled. He knew something was going to happen and he knew it would probably make him vulnerable to an attack. But the question and thoughts faded away as Batman sprayed a soft mist in the boy's face.
"I can't let him go home like this, Alfred," Batman growled as he sat Robin up on the medical table and held him straight.
The butler unwrapped the old fabric and both men glared at the sight in dismay. A dark-blue bruise covered the boy's entire torso, there was a large bump on the right side of his ribcage and a tiny one on the left.
"What are you going to do, sir, keep spraying him with Bat-sleep until he is completely healed?"
"Of course not, I…but look at him! He shouldn't even be allowed to leave a bed! If I let him go, he's just going to go out again and increase the severity of his injuries!"
"You already told him, sir, that he would be allowed to leave after we patch him up…"
"That was before I saw this!" Batman interrupted loudly while gesturing to the small, battered torso.
"If you break your word, sir," Alfred continued calmly, "he will never learn to trust you." The butler finished adjusting the boy's ribs and began swathing them in Bat-wrap.
"If I looked like this when I was eleven, would you have allowed me to go out and fight crime?"
"We aren't talking about you, Master Batman," Alfred skillfully avoided the question. "You knew how to fight and take care of yourself before beginning to travel this path. He has nothing, nobody and only knows how to trust himself. Right now, he is the one person he can depend on. Not you, not me and certainly not any officers of the Gotham City Police Department. Can you imagine, sir, what Commissioner Gordon would say if he knew there was a child fighting criminals in the worst section of the city? What he would do?"
"Orphanage or foster care or something similar," Batman mused and Alfred nodded.
"We would be taking everything from him: his purpose, his obvious drive to make his parents proud, his loyalty to their memories. Everything, sir."
"But he'll get himself killed, Alfred! I can battle through the pain of three broken ribs but his fighting style is much different! It requires the flexibility of his entire body, especially his torso! And he's taking on hardened criminals night after night – men that don't let up once they know a person's weakness!"
"Offer to watch Crime Alley for him, sir. I think the only reason he came out during that gang fight was because he knew something excessively violent was happening. The one night he stayed home was the night of the 'bloodbath', as you called it. Do you think, sir, that he was willing to let that happen again?"
"So you think," Batman began incredulously, "that he will stay home for a couple of nights if I offer to help him?! Didn't you just tell me that I shouldn't offer help unless he came to me?"
"Perhaps offer was the wrong word. You'll figure it out, sir. You always do."
Alfred completed wrapping Robin's ribs and Batman re-dressed the boy before laying him back on the table.
"Can I at least let him sleep for a little while?" the hero asked as he covered the young crime-fighter with a blanket.
"Why are you asking me, sir?" Alfred replied with a slight smile. "You brought him home, he's your responsibility."
With a quiet chuckle, the faithful butler walked to the service elevator and returned to Wayne Manor. He had some research to do and the absence of both Bruce Wayne and Batman was critical to his objective.
Batman glared at Alfred's retreating back for a moment. Then his eyes turned thoughtful and he glanced down at the boy. Reaching over the table and grabbing the still-wet Bat-towel that Alfred had used earlier, the Caped Crusader gently began scrubbing the drying blood out of Robin's dark hair.
Several hours later:
Robin stirred, groaned softly and Batman jumped to his feet. The Caped Crusader was dozing in a chair he had brought over to the medical area. But if Robin was waking up, Batman couldn't let the boy see that either of them had been sleeping for a while.
"Where…" Robin mumbled groggily as his eyelids fluttered.
"The Batcave, with Batman," the hero replied quietly.
"How…"
"I brought you here in the Batmobile," he stated a little louder.
"When…"
"A few hours ago. You were in pretty bad shape and needed he…" Batman abruptly changed the end of the sentence, "…to be fixed up."
"Why?"
Batman paused – why what? Why did Robin need to be fixed up? Why did Batman decide to do the fixing?
"Why do you want to help me so much?"
That wasn't what the Caped Crusader had expected. He had been ready to launch into the short version of what had happened but apparently Robin either remembered or didn't care to know.
"I'm not worth helping, you know," Robin suddenly whispered as his eyes slid open. "I'm not going to grow up to be some rich, big-shot businessman or famous lawyer or anyone important. I'm just going to fight bad guys until I can't do it anymore and then I'll just die."
"You don't have to be rich or famous to be worthy of help, Robin. But there must be something you want to do or be when you grow up."
Robin was staring at nothing and Batman recognized the same wistful look that he used to have when he thought about what life could have been like had his parents not been murdered. A thin film of liquid skated through the light-blue eyes and the small chin trembled slightly. The Caped Crusader watched a single tear escape the fabric of the mask and leave a trail of sorrow on the young cheek.
"Nope!" the boy unexpectedly shouted. "All I've ever wanted to do is fight bad guys. Keep the streets clean for kids, so they can all grow up in nice homes with good parents and have tons of fun."
Batman almost tried to dig deeper but remembered Alfred's words of warning and let it go instead. Robin would eventually tell him everything; he just had to be patient.
"Can I go now? I mean, thanks for the help and everything but I need to get home. Don't want my family to start worrying." The last sentence was accompanied by a half-hearted grin as Robin struggled to sit up.
"You have family to take care of you?" Batman asked in surprise. Alfred had told him that Richard Grayson appeared to be living alone.
"I have family to live with but I wouldn't say they 'take care of me'. I'm usually the one helping them."
The boy had made it to sitting and was now sliding off the table. He swayed slightly but brushed it off, hoping Batman hadn't noticed. The Caped Crusader, of course, noticed everything but this was something else that he chose to let go.
"Um, how far away from Crime Alley are we?"
"Pretty far, almost twenty-three miles."
"Oh," Robin dropped his eyes to the floor. Twenty-three miles was a long way to walk!
"You don't think I'm expecting you to walk there, do you?" Batman asked in disbelief when he saw a tinge of discouragement flash across Robin's features.
"Well, you've already done a lot and I don't want to bother you any more than I already have. So, if you could just point me in the right direction…?" he trailed off as he lifted his head.
Shaking his head, Batman strode to the Batmobile and opened the passenger door.
"This is the right direction," he stated, pointing to the cushioned seat. "You're not walking, especially not in your condition." The sentence was more of a command than a statement and the independent boy wasn't going to allow anyone to order him around.
"My 'condition'?" Robin almost growled. "I'm perfectly capable of walking!"
"All I meant," Batman sighed, "was that you're injured and riding in the Batmobile will give you some extra time to rest."
This time it was Robin who sighed. "Sorry, again," he said. "I'm not used to people being willing to help me. Like I said, I'm not worth it so it makes me feel like a…burden." The last word was whispered and outlined with shame.
"Robin, if I thought you were a burden, I wouldn't have brought you here. You needed fixing, my friend and I have the knowledge to do so and we just wanted to help."
Tears suddenly filled the light-blue eyes and instantly rushed over the lids. Robin couldn't stop them from streaming down his face so he dropped his head into his hands. He was being such a weakling! His father wouldn't be crying in front of a man he barely knew!
Batman was stunned. What had he said to make the boy break down?! He didn't know what to do and wished Alfred was here. The butler would know how to fix this.
"What's wrong, young sir?" Alfred asked gently as he entered the Batcave with his usual impeccable timing. He received no response so he slowly walked over to join the boy at the medical table. Glancing at Batman, who raised his eyebrows and shrugged, the butler quietly crouched in front of the child. Robin's face was completely covered by his hands; the only things Alfred could see were the tears glistening in the lights of the Batcave as they dripped onto the floor.
"Are you in pain, young sir?" There was no reply so Alfred stood up and lightly rested his left hand on the boy's right shoulder.
The touch made Robin shudder and he immediately stepped away from the butler.
"I'm fine, sorry, I'm fine," Robin stated. He lifted his head and attempted to wipe all the evidence of weakness off his face. Alfred smiled softly and handed the boy a tissue.
"Thanks," Robin mumbled. He almost ran to the Batmobile, where Batman was still holding the passenger door open, and quickly climbed inside.
"I'll ride, if you don't mind," he whispered, staring at his feet under the glove box.
"Okay," Batman replied with both confusion and relief in the tone. He shut the door, glanced at Alfred in concern then strode to his side of the vehicle and climbed in.
Fifteen minutes later:
The Batmobile slowly coasted to a stop across from the border of Crime Alley. Robin quickly pushed the door open and climbed out.
"Thanks again," he mumbled, his eyes on the sidewalk. "Maybe I'll, um, see you later."
The comment had a slight questioning tone and Batman smiled.
"I…" the hero began but Robin had already vanished into the shadows.
"How…?"
Shaking his head, Batman turned the Batmobile around and headed for the Batcave. The grin stayed on his face – Robin had just given him a tiny amount of hope. Perhaps the boy would begin to trust him sooner than the man and his butler had anticipated.
Robin slowly made his way home, flattening himself against every wall and peering around every corner. Sixteen exhausting minutes later he stepped through the door. He took off his mask, crumpled it into a tight ball and threw it across the room, wincing at the pain that flared up as a result of the motion.
"Idiot," he mumbled. "Allowing yourself to be captured, even by a hero, is the worst thing you could ever do. You don't even deserve to be Robin!"
He began pacing around the room, muttering insults at himself while trying to form a plan. Accidentally telling Batman and his friend about the grocer and the baker had been a gigantic, inexcusable mistake. They would probably talk to the man and woman, who would probably tell them why they left food in the back alleyways.
The young crime-fighter knew that several people had seen him looking through dumpsters while dressed as Robin. Sometimes dinner had to wait until after he had thwarted the plan of a criminal or gang. And sometimes normal, law-abiding citizens were still awake at two or three o'clock in the morning. Getting in and out of tall dumpsters wasn't always easy and Robin had, more than once, been much louder than usual.
Sighing, he grabbed his notebook and carefully sat down on his rough bed. He was in too much pain to go to sleep and it was nearly morning anyway.
Wednesday, March 31 – I think…
It finally happened. Batman caught me and I couldn't do anything to stop him. I got taken down by some villain then hit a couple of times by a thug and barely made it over the border of Crime Alley. Something happened behind a building, I don't remember anything except laying down to rest, and when I woke up I was in Batman's house or…I think he called it a Batcave?
Anyway, his friend really does know how to "patch someone up", as they called it. There was a pretty deep cut on my forehead, from the villain's pointy shoe, but the man somehow fixed it. I don't have a mirror or anything so I don't know what it looks like but when I touch it there's no open wound.
Batman has this thing called "Bat-ice" that he says works better than normal ice. I don't know if I believe that – it looked like a pack of regular ice to me. They fixed my ribs, too. There's no huge bump anymore, the wrapping is much better than anything I've done and I can breathe without pain. Moving around still hurts but at least I can breathe.
Oh, yeah, another stupid thing. I started crying, in front of BATMAN! What kind of weak little baby starts sobbing into his hands while standing in front of an actual hero?! But he was just being so helpful and acting like I mattered. Acting…? I don't know, maybe he was just pitying me.
It was the first time, since THAT day, that anyone has ever actually helped me. The food from the grocer and baker is helpful but it's just food. But they, Batman and his friend, talked to me and fixed me and he drove me back to Crime Alley in the Batmobile – the most awesome car ever!
I'm tired….
