ION

Part III

If she wasn't still heart-sore over reading Dick's handwriting, Barbara would have laughed at this "Tim's" expression.

She had scanned him carefully upon their meeting, taking in everything about him. The boy certainly showed potential, but he needed some work. Okay, a lot, but she knew that he could make it. Wheeling out from behind the small desk, she nodded at the poor child.

"Come on, you're coming with me."

His beautiful blue eyes snapped up, and Barbara's lips softened into a smile. He was just a little boy. An innocent child tossed into a world of chaos. Her heart stilled, thoughts clouding her head. She had become Batgirl when she was sixteen, but Dick? Jason? They hadn't really ever had a choice. Dick had been dragged out of his home and to a new one. No one was forcing him to be a vigilante, but honestly, what else could he do? Jason had grown up on the streets, and he… she had never thought about this. And now… Tim… he was…

"Timothy?"

"Y-Yes?"

"Do…" she hesitated. "Do you want to be Robin?""

He glanced to the side, shrugging.

"Timothy. Do you want to be Robin? Be honest." She slanted her eyes imploringly. "Please."

"I…" his voice cracked as his head lowered, his hands folding delicately in his lap. "I…" this time it was choked.

Barbara, like all bats, had never been all that good at touchy-feely stuff. But… her fleeting heart remembered the words of the person she held most dear.

"Sh, sh… it's… okay. Well, it's not really. I know that, Babs. I do."

Leaning forward, Barbara put her hands on Tim's shoulders. He flinched under their weight. "Timothy…? Tim…my? You… you don't need to look at me, but… I'd like to tell you it's okay. That being Robin, being stuck with Bruce… it's all okay. But," her eyes clenched , resisting the tears. "It's not. Not right now, at least. I know that."

Tim shook as he leaned into her hands, and she let him. Just like… just like Dick would have done.

"But, it WILL be alright. I know you don't think you can, and… uh, well, you probably can't, if we're being logical, y'know. But… WE can."

"Timmy, someone important to me once told me that… one person probably can't handle these trials. But… if one can't… then two can. I know we're not in the same shoes, or capes and cowls, but… I want you to know that… well… Bruce is a jerk. Dick and Jay had Bruce. But… you don't."

His hands tightened in her shirt. She took a deep breath as she continued. "But… also… I want to be there for you. I have someone I'd like you to meet. She and I… we're going to help you. But first, do you want to be Robin?"

The boy stilled, and as she helped him back to a sitting position, he shook his head hesitantly, tears streaming down his face. "N-no. I… can't. I'm not a hero. I'm a coward. I'm not strong. I can't even do a good mile in PE. I'm not smart. Well, not exactly true, but I can't, like, build a car! I can't help people- I…. I'm not… I'm no Wonder."

Barbara considered a moment. "Well, I can't run a mile in PE either." She smiled slightly, patting her wheelchair. "I'm smart. But when I was your age, I couldn't even drive… at least not very well. I'm no wonder. But I can help people. Wanna know how?"

He gave her that look that teenagers do so well, the one that says: "I know YOU can, I KNOW that. But it doesn't work like that for real life problems."

"Because I want to help. I try. Without work, you aren't going to get anything done, Timmy. People have to face that no matter what they think, success isn't magical. But Timmy, I just… you don't have to be Robin. But let me teach you. Please."

He stared at her with those blue eyes, so, so blue, so shocking… wavering and glistening. Then his head bowed. "I… can't."

"You will. Now follow me."

He stared at her. "Promise you'll…"

"I promise."

Part I

He had nearly fallen asleep before something exciting happened. And as a previous Talon (with the same abilities), that was pretty amazing.

The box opened, and he flinched back from the light, trying to keep the sleep façade up.

"Hey, kid, wake uuuup." He was nudged by a hand. Having had enough touching for a life-time, he snapped his own hand out, gripping the offender's with a vise.

"OW!"

Talon flicked his eyes open, letting them adjust before flipping out of the trunk, more than anxious to get out of the confined space. He opened his mouth, issuing a soft hiss.

"OH crap! WHAT is wrong with you?!"

He cocked his head, staring imploringly at the young man in front of him. Dark brown hair, almost auburn, swayed over charcoal eyes and a soft sprinkle of freckles. The kid had a pointed chin and a lithe build, crouching by his recent confines.

He just stared at the kid, who started to look uncomfortable, stumbling to his feet and looking sidelong at him. "Uh… you're weird."

He cocked his head in response, leaning back like a cat on its haunches.

"I'm Secha. And you are…?"

He didn't even twitch this time.

Secha pursed his lips. "Look, I'm trying to help you out. Least you could do is give me a name."

He straightened, raising his nose to the air and taking a whiff, ears swiveling. Someone was coming. Secha just stared harder. He shook his head, immediately assessing a way of escape before recalling that he had planned to stay and help people out. Whoever needed him. His eyes flicked, training on Secha's. Did… did this boy need his help?

Secha looked uncomfortable at his shift in focus. "Uh… d'you need something?"

He shook his head, pointing towards the door and reluctantly wandering back to the trunk, climbing in. "Wait- you want to stay?" Secha asked incredulously. He shrugged in response.

"You do know they're gonna auction you off like a horse."

He stilled, drawing in a shaky breath in attempt to calm his heart. N-no. I'm a person. I… I'm not just a piece to be sold. You're a person. A person. A person. Alive… His heart broke upon remembering that he certainly wasn't alive.

He buried his nose in the crook of his arm, hoping Secha would take the hint before whoever was coming got here.

The kid didn't, sitting beside his trunk and trying to convince him to come out, even as the door slammed open. "Secha." A low voice growled. The kid immediately jumped to his feet, and he could hear the boy's heart speed drastically.

"R-Red Hood! Sir, I was-"

"Just messing around again. Open your eyes, kid. I should kill you."

"I-I know. Then why don't you?"

"Secha," Red Hood seemed to sigh. "You're just a kid. You have a life ahead of you. I'm not going to take that away from you. But instead of trying to help people in your free time, I suggest you help yourself."

Secha stood, seemingly seething at the man's words as his head buzzed from his sleep-façade on the floor. His usually still heart thumping, confusion pumped through his lifeless veins. The smell in the air from this new man, Red Hood, it was… he…

"I'm not going to do that, Red Hood sir. I'm not in a great position but neither is anyone here, and I plan to help them."

"I know. But then I'll have to kill you. I really don't want to kill you, Secha."

"I don't see why not! You're just as bad as any of those pimps-"

The anger he sensed growing in Red Hood broke free, and the man crashed the kid toward the wall. "I am nothing like them, and you won't forget that, Secha. Now get out. Get out."

The anger drained from the man as he leaned back. Secha hesitated, eyes straying towards the box in which he hid before dashing out. "You'll go to heck, Red Hood. Just remember that." He whispered as he disappeared.

He heard a thump as Red Hood fell to a seat on another box. "I already have. I'm so sorry, Secha. Sorry sorry sorry." His voice modifier faded out, leaving a surprisingly young voice broken in its wake.

"I've already been there."

Part II

Today I must take you to meet someone. It's the best way to explain this story.

I stand as I continue to write these words, making my way downstairs to a car. Master Bruce is out on some minor cases tonight and won't need me. And if he does, I have my phone ready to call. I grab the keys, exiting into the garage and getting in one of the less conspicuous cars. My car. I do not use it much as my own personal past-times aren't priority, but it is important in times like these.

As I drive through the Gotham suburbs, I reflect on what is about to happen. I pull into the driveway of a humble home, making my way to the door and ringing the bell. A darling five year old dressed as a fairy answers, laughing and running inside to fetch her mother, her nine year old twin brothers chasing her along with a toddler.

A moment later, a simply glowing young woman answers the door. She wears an apron caked in flour, but her smile is so beautiful it lights up the cold Gotham night. As I enter, my attention is brought to focus on a huge painting of Christ in their entryway. A piano is being played by one of the nine-year olds now, the boy eyeing me as he stumbles through what I believe is a hymn in amateur skill.

Sitting on the couch is a man, not much older than the children's mother- their father. He has an infant beside him and is reading scriptures aloud to the child as his daughter returns to what appears to be painting his toenails rather sloppily. I smile at the homey feeling, remembering vaguely the feeling of when Master Richard and Jason still brought light to the manor.

The father looks up, his eyes widening. He jumps up, leaving his little girl pouting as her canvas is taken away. "Mr. Pennyworth! I'm so sorry! We had Cub Scouts tonight and I totally forgot you were coming! Uh- uh… Mom?" he looks to his wife.

"I got it." She winks. "Okay guys- PJ race, go!" Immediately all the children scramble to the stairs, yelling as they fight their way to their rooms. She then picks the baby out of her husband's arms, pecking him on the cheek. "I'll put Mark to bed then finish the bread. Have fun." she waved.

"Right." Her husband snorts. She smiles, plucking a bow his daughter had mostly likely placed there out of his hair.

As she leaves, the man turns to me. "So… what exactly do you want to know, and why do you keep writing in that book? Also, please take a seat." he asks.

I smile pleasantly, doing as directed and sitting on the worn couch across from him. "Well, Mr. Heim, I am writing because it is essential I don't miss a detail. As for what I'd like to know, just as much as you recall."

He takes a deep breath, slumping back into the couch. "Yes. Well, before Dick came to the Detention Center, things were very dark form me." His eyes get a distant look in them.

To let you understand, his name is Charles Heim. He grew up in Gotham, before getting arrested and put in the Juvenile Hall. He was Master Richard's cellmate. However, the once-abusive young man took a turn for the better shortly after my Master left the Hall. He got a new cellmate, one framed for a crime. A child visiting from far away with a strong belief in Christ. Those months were critical in young Charle's life. He was converted, attending a Christian College and marrying into a strong family and raising on of his own. Master Dick would be overjoyed to see such a beautiful change in someone's life.

Charles has agreed to tell us what he remembers from his time with Master Richard. I can only hope that it is enough to fill the gap in the story I am telling.

I AM ALIIIIIIIIIIIIIIVE!

Surprise, right? O.O

So actually, I'm trying to write more... but... I might possibly... just pretend I'm dead... and you will never know. O.o

XD Anywaaaay maybe if I gets lots of loves then I can writes more! But, ah, no promises *pales* *leaves*

Anyway! Byyyye my dears!

~Universe

But now I'm... I'm Techno... should I sign it that way? ...Naaaah