Chapter 12:

Dick knew he was quick and, now that both men were looking away, it was time to leave. His mask had missed the trash can, and was only two feet away from his current position, so there would be no noise when he grabbed it. Frustrated with his injuries – the jolt of pain that surged down his entire body when he sat up was going to make his escape more difficult – the young hero silently slid off the table and took three quiet steps to his left.

The world tilted when he bent down to pick up his mask. Waiting for the dizziness to dissipate, however, wasn't an option. Time was a precious commodity so he muffled the gasp of agony as he stood up. Pushing the pain to the back of his mind, Robin raced away without looking back. He was almost to the dark tunnel when he heard the surprised voice of the butler. Quickly wrapping his mask across his eyes, the eleven-year-old disappeared into the darkness.

Robin's slightly muddled mind recognized the fact that he wouldn't be able to escape if he just continued to run. So, as soon as he entered the tunnel, he searched for a place to hide. There was a shallow cave in the complete darkness of the wall to his right and the boy knelt down. He could fit, as long as he squished his body into a small ball and limited his breathing to soft, occasional wheezes.

The position made his entire body begin throbbing again but there was no way he was going to allow Batman's butler to force Bruce Wayne to take care of Dick Grayson. The man was hesitant, Robin had heard it in his voice, and the boy wasn't going to pressure him into anything. It would be nice to have real shelter and three good meals a day and better training to fight against villains but not because Batman and his butler pitied him.

Batman had said that Crime Alley had calmed down slightly since Robin had entered the picture so the boy decided not to retire, not to give up. The place couldn't protect itself and, if it gave Batman more time to capture the real bad guys, then Robin was going to do his part. Finding a place to stay would be more difficult this time, sleeping out in the open would get him killed, but there were abandoned warehouses throughout Crime Alley. He could sleep in the rafters, like a bat, if any criminals decided to use his hiding place as their headquarters.

Like a bat.

Robin rolled his eyes in amusement at the thought, although the light-blue circles were outlined with a touch of sadness. He was a bird, not a bat, and after this escape he probably wouldn't be given another chance to work with Batman. The man was undoubtedly angry, frustrated and tired of trying to help him. Robin recognized that, once again, he was on his own.

If he had enough space, the boy would have shrugged his shoulders. He would be fine, as long as he left the real villains to Batman. Especially Joker; the eleven-year-old never wanted to see that pasty white face or creepy red sneer again.

Suddenly the Batmobile roared past him and the young crime-fighter grinned. He could hear noises from the Batcave, the butler was doing something, so he would have to wait until the man left before unfolding himself from the tiny cave and retrieving his things.

The Batmobile unexpectedly rumbled past him again and Robin's eyes widened in both surprise and disappointment. A tiny flame of hope had persuaded him that Batman might try to find him but the man was already giving up. The hope disappeared as a twinge of regret flashed through the boy's eyes.

Murmurs were coming from the Batcave and then a dark shadow was striding toward the tunnel. Robin heard the words "hills" and "Manor" and "on foot". The minute flame reignited but the boy shoved it away. If the Caped Crusader found him, he would probably just hand him over to the police. It was obvious that Batman thought Robin was hiding somewhere in the surrounding area. Escaping would be harder now but the young hero was determined to find a way.


Just as the Batmobile flew out of the camouflaged exit, Batman realized that there was no way Robin would be in plain sight. The boy was on foot but had the ability to immediately vanish, even when Batman was right behind him. There were many small but thick bushes along both sides of the road, not to mention the several hills around the property. Searching the area while in the Batmobile would be a waste of time; the large vehicle wouldn't be able to traverse the terrain as easily as a running Batman.

So, the hero turned the Batmobile around and sped back into the tunnel. Slamming to a stop, he told Alfred his conclusions and the butler agreed. Batman chose to begin his search by going up the closest hill but, right before he left, Alfred pointed to a crumpled bundle lying on the floor by the Bat-computer.

"He'll come back for his things, sir, I'm sure of it. There is no way he would leave the poster of his parents or his journal."

"I agree. He has to be close, he's injured and on foot."

Not waiting for a reply, Batman turned around and strode toward the tunnel, confident that he would be able to find the boy. Robin wouldn't be able to run for long and his concussion would be hindering his ability to think clearly. The older hero was certain that he would track down the younger one before darkness descended on Wayne Manor.


Later that evening:

Robin's entire body was numb and breathing was the main thing he didn't want to be doing right now. His lungs couldn't expand because of the squished position of his body and the quiet wheezing he had decided to use in order to stay hidden had turned into short, painful gasps.

He had nearly fallen asleep several times, which would have led to tumbling out of his hiding place. So, he was struggling to keep his eyes open and stay aware of his surroundings. Fuzzy clouds kept interrupting his thoughts and once in a while the walls of the tunnel would turn into waves. Throwing up was a constant threat and Robin was leaning toward deciding to turn himself in. The butler hadn't left the cave and Batman had been striding in and out of the tunnel all day, making it impossible for the boy to escape without detection.

"WHY HAVEN'T I FOUND HIM?!"

Batman's voice thundered into the tunnel and Robin squeezed his eyes shut. The man sounded furious and the boy felt slightly guilty.

"HE'S BADLY INJURED, ALONE, SHELTER-LESS AND HAS NOTHING WITH HIM!"

There were some quiet words from the butler – Robin heard "strong" and "clever" – and then the familiar roar of the Batmobile. A rush of wind blew by the boy as the vehicle flew down the tunnel and out of sight. The eleven-year-old, per usual, counted to one thousand before beginning to slide himself out of the torturous space to which he had confined himself for almost an entire day.

The boy leaned against the wall and tried to shake the feeling back into his body. The sharp needles of a body waking up began pricking his nerves and he closed his eyes against the new pain. After everything he had been through recently, this ache was the easiest to handle.

After several minutes, Robin stood up and quietly crept toward the entrance to the Batcave, flattening himself against the wall when he heard movement. The butler was still there, murmuring to himself as he walked around the area. Peeking carefully around the bumpy wall, the young crime-fighter watched the man flip some levers on a machine then pick up a feather duster and begin cleaning.

His bundle was by the biggest machine, the one closest to where the Batmobile had been parked. But the butler was right there next to it; there was no way Robin could grab it without being seen.

BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.

A red phone began blinking and beeping loudly. It was on the opposite side of the cave and Robin held his breath. Would the butler answer it or ignore it? Relief rushed through the boy's body when the man turned away and walked toward the phone. Now was his chance, probably the only chance he was going to get.

Alfred picked up the phone and began speaking. Robin raced around the corner, snatched his full blanket off the ground then turned around and sprinted away. He was out of sight before Alfred was finished with the phone call and exiting the tunnel twenty seconds later.

"Good heavens!" Alfred exclaimed when he returned to the Bat-computer. The bundle of Robin's things was gone; the boy had been here the whole time! How, and where, could he have possibly hidden himself so well that the World's Greatest Detective hadn't even found him after half a day of searching?!

The butler walked over to the Bat-communicator receiver and pushed the button. The Caped Crusader needed to have this information immediately.


Commissioner Gordon's office:

"…escaped?!" Batman exclaimed, furious at the news he had just received. How had a murderer, not even a clever villain, escaped from Arkham so easily?! This criminal was one that the hero needed to recapture immediately, especially since Dick Grayson had obviously changed his mind about "retiring" Robin.

"How did you get here so quickly?" the commissioner's voice pulled Batman out of his thoughts. "I used the Bat-phone only three minutes ago!"

"I was already on patrol and decided to stop here, although I had no knowledge of this new development," Batman growled. "Tell Warden Crichton to hire better security guards."

With that statement, the Caped Crusader turned around and raced out the door. He had no idea where Robin was and now the man who had murdered The Flying Graysons was free. If they ran into each other, Batman had no doubt that someone would either be permanently injured or, perhaps, killed.

Terrifying memories and volatile emotions would rise to the surface if Robin found the murderer and recognized him. Would the eleven-year-old be able to control himself? Batman had only known the kid for a week, and he didn't even really know him, but Robin had asked Batman to leave Joker alive. That villain, however, had only fought the boy; this criminal had killed Dick Grayson's parents.

Beep. Beep.

His Bat-communicator went off and Batman snatched it out of his utility belt as he climbed into the Batmobile.

"It's gone, sir!" Alfred exclaimed loudly as the Caped Crusader started the vehicle. "He was here, somewhere, all day and his pack is gone!"

"What…where…how?" Batman stammered out the incomplete questions. Where could Robin have been hiding and how did he grab his things without Alfred noticing?! And where would he go now that both of his previous homes were unusable?

"Sir?"

Shaking his head, Batman stated, "I'll find him, he can't be too far away from the Batcave. His injuries will slow him down. On my way, Batman out."


The first time he had been in the Batcave, Batman had said they were twenty-three miles from Crime Alley. Robin had broken so many of his parents' rules already; one more wouldn't matter. So, he stuck out his thumb as he trudged along the dirt road that led toward Gotham City.

Ten minutes later the grumbling sound of an old engine approached from the other side of the road. Robin's arm was tired and he had dropped it to rest it. But it immediately flew out when he heard the loud noise and fervently hoped that the driver would decide to stop.

"Need a ride, kid?" a gravelly voice asked as the car slowed down across the street. Nodding in relief, Robin approached the car and saw a large, dark-haired man.

"Where are you going?" he asked wearily. The guy's face was slightly blurry but the young hero didn't really care about the man's identity. He had a car and was offering a ride; that was all that mattered.

"Got a place in Crime Alley," the man replied. "Not really a great section of town for a kid, though."

"It's where I live," Robin stated with a slight grin.

"Then hop in, there's plenty of space in the back." The man returned the grin and pointed to the back door.

"Thanksss."

Robin heard the slight slur in his voice and his grin changed to a grimace as he turned away. Hopefully, the man hadn't noticed it.

"You okay?"

Sighing, the man had heard it, Robin answered, "Yeah, just tired. Been walking for a while."

Nodding in understanding, the man said, "I've had concussions, too, kid. Horrible things."

Robin climbed in the car without replying, laid his bundle on the floor by his feet and leaned back against the seat. The man began driving again and the boy closed his eyes. Batman wouldn't find him as long as he was riding low in an old, non-descript, black car.

Glancing in the rearview mirror, the stranger asked, "Why you wearing a mask, kid?"

"Got people to hi…hide from," Robin whispered, hoping the man would let it go.

"Me too, kid, me too."

Fifteen minutes later they passed the gas station where Robin had hidden several nights ago. Three minutes later the man parked the car in front of the theater and they both climbed out of the vehicle. Swirls of darkness filled his mind when Robin bent down to retrieve his bundle but he was able to force them away and stand up.

"My place is just past the theater. You know where to go from here?" the man asked as he stepped into the light of a street lamp.

A memory flashed through his mind as Robin stared up at the man and he unintentionally frowned. A pair of green eyes stared back, suddenly uneasy.

"What are you staring at, kid?"

"Huh? Oh, nothing, sssorry. Just gotta get my, uh, bearings," the boy replied, glancing around as if orienting himself.

His voice was calm but Robin's insides were churning. The man had a crooked nose and a light scar running from his forehead to his left ear. This person was a criminal and a murderer, the boy realized. Dick Grayson had just stared into the green eyes of his parents' killer and the only thing that held him back from tearing into the man was the knowledge that it was better to find a criminal's weakness before attacking.

"Thanss again for the ride," the young hero managed to murmur before turning and heading toward the back of the theater. He tripped on an invisible crack but somehow turned the near fall into a mere stumble.

"Sure," the man replied but the kid was already gone. Shrugging, he walked north and entered the house next to the theater.

Glaring from the shadows, Robin waited until the door was closed before creeping around the back into the alley. Quietly, he lowered his bundle and placed it next to the corner of the theater. Pressing himself against the wall of the small house, he slid along the side until he came to an open window. The light was on and the man was speaking to somebody. Robin chose to listen instead of look, for now.

"Yeah, some kid with a little mask," came the man's voice. "Said he had people to hide from. Think he had a concussion – slurring and walking funny."

"You gave a ride to the 'boy in the mask'?!" a second voice exclaimed quietly. "That kid fights crime and now he knows where you live!"

"He seemed innocent enough. Looked really tired, too. He did take a long look at me, though, before leaving," the first man stated thoughtfully.

"Tired and a concussion," the second man muttered. "Good time to take him out."

"What?! Take out a kid?!"

"You haven't seen him, Lester! He's beaten every member of Rosco's gang and the only reason I'm here is because I ran away when I saw him take down the most powerful man in the warehouse in less than a minute!"

Jest. Robin remembered the names on the shirts back in Joker's warehouse at the circus grounds. Tall, thin, probably easy to knock out. And the other man, the criminal who had killed The Flying Graysons, was Lester.

He realized he was slumped against the wall and anybody who glanced his way would notice the position. Straightening up, Robin slid back toward the alley, picked up his pack of things and turned north. Maybe part of his old house would still be standing; Batman wouldn't think to look for him there.


"I drove slowly down the entire road with the Bat-headlights constantly moving from side to side!" Batman exclaimed through the Bat-communicator.

"He can easily blend into the shadows, sir, as you well know."

"I'm going to Crime Alley. My priority now is to find the man who killed The Flying Graysons before Robin does. Hack into every street camera you can and keep an eye out for Robin on those and the Bat-cameras. He can't have gone far on foot and injured."

"I will keep you informed, sir."

"Batman out," the Caped Crusader grumbled as he turned the Batmobile around and headed for Crime Alley.

"Batcave out," Alfred whispered to the static emitting from the Bat-communicator receiver.


Crime Alley:

"Are we really going to search this entire place tonight?!" Lester exclaimed softly, sending a slight glare in the direction of his roommate. "I've had a long day; I'm tired!"

The two men had casually walked several blocks in search of Robin. They were half a mile southwest of their house and Lester was ready to give up.

"He can't be too far away," Jest whispered angrily. "We wouldn't be out here in the first place if you hadn't given him a ride!"

"How was I supposed to know?! I've been in prison for the last year!"

"It's not my fault you got caught! Stop complaining and just find the kid!"

"Fine," Lester grumbled, "but let's split up. I'll go north, you go south. If I don't find him within ten minutes, I'm going to give up for the night."

"Fine," Jest repeated irritably. "I'll take the longer way even though you got us into this mess." He briefly glared at the other criminal before turning south and strolling away.