Chapter 1

Gotham was a tough place to grow up- Robin Grayson knew that firsthand. Brought up in a circus in a tough area of town, she was accustomed up hearing the pop of gunshots and the wail of police sirens.

Tonight, however, was ominously quiet. The Falcone mob had been silenced, and, for the last few months, Gotham had lived in relative peace. Not that this helped Robin any- times were tougher for her than they had ever been. She hugged her worn leather biker coat closer to her and pulled the hood down over her forehead- it would be along night indeed if she didn't find shelter soon.

The alleyways Robin trod through the day were quickly becoming dark as the last tendrils of purple leaked out of the clouds. Robin quickened her pace; it was a bad idea for anyone to be caught out alone in this part of Gotham, even more so for a young woman.

Her favorite haunt was out by the docks at Gotham Harbor. Within its maze of empty cargo containers, one could find plenty of nooks and crannies which to sleep away the night unnoticed. One had only to watch out for the occasional drug dealer or prostitute taking advantage of the docks privacy. Robin had traversed the area so frequently she did not have to think about where she was going; she simply followed where her feet took her.

She stopped abruptly in the ghostly orb of a streetlight. Her small figure cast a distorted shadow in the orange light. All seemed quiet, but…

She disregarded the notion. "Keep going. You're the only person around," she thought. Shaking her head, Miss Grayson continued on. "You know how everything echoes in here."

But as the many rows of containers passed by, Robin kept her ears open. Everything was as it always was. Still… "Something's weird here."

Robin was certain she heard another set of feet pounding the asphalt behind her. She slipped clandestinely between two stacks of containers, making sure she was hidden by the crates. Sure enough, another set of footsteps continued to plod on. "There is someone else."

As the footsteps approached, Robin waited with bated breath. Whoever it was passed by her hiding place without pausing. Miss Grayson wiggled her way out from between cargo containers and crept on toward her usual hiding place- but kept close to the shadows and muffled her footsteps.

Suddenly-

"Hey Sweetheart! You passed that streetlight and just up and disappeared!" Two muscular hands seized the collar of her jacket and shoved her to the ground. Her head cracked the pavement. Scrambling up, Robin kicked back as her attackers huge hands fumbled at her ankles. She stumbled a few desperate steps, but her head swam with the impact of the fall and her feet fumbled. She fell back to the ground, and those same two arms pulled her by the shoulders back behind a container. "Not so fast sweet- Oof!"

The man holding her spun backwards, and Robins arms were wrenched painfully as her attacker flew away. This latest assailant materialized from between cargo containers, a great tall man in black. Even as Robin crawled away, the sounds of their fight reverberated throughout the docks.

But Robin didn't stay to watch. Though her footsteps were still uneven, she trippingly ran through the maze of containers. All she wanted to do was put as many footsteps as possible between herself and those two creeps. The ground swayed and she listed from side to side, all the while running desperately… "It's not far away now."

The street came into view. Robin whooped in delight and staggered closer.

But the docks were slippery, her footing uneven. The closer she came to the street, the more she staggered toward the edge, until-

The black water flew up to greet her. She plunged into its frigid depths gasping for breath. The cold burned her skin, but every second she became

more numb.

Her vision dimmed.

Her heart slowed.

She stopped struggling toward the surface.

She was already unconscious when the great black shadow pulled her out.

Chapter 2

"Nnnhhhh… mmmmmmffffff…"

Robin bit her lip. For hours, the pain in her head and lungs had waxed and waned, sometimes causing her to cry out in the silence for anyone, anyone who could hear her.

The room was dark and stifling. Though the curtains were closed, she was sure it was night; the only light was moonlight filtering in between the curtain. For hours, Robin had heard nothing from any part of the house- and she was sure that this place was a house. It was certainly not a hospital- far too spacious, and too well furnished. The bed she now occupied was a four-poster, with a great velvet canopy. The walls were high, with a vaulted ceiling and windows near the very top. They were curtained with the same material as the canopy, making the room stuffy and stagnant.

The furniture was as lavish as the room itself; all dark, richly patterned wood. Directly across from the bed, a large desk stood with what looked like a stained-glass-shaded lamp. An identical lamp adorned the bed stand on her right. If this wasn't a mansion, it was a Ritz-Carlton. Even in dark relief, Robin could see the extravagance clearly.

The clarity of her thoughts surprised Robin. "Maybe I'm not as wrecked as I think I am."

Even so, that wasn't saying much. Soon after waking up, Robin had snaked one IV- punctured arm up to her forehead; even through the thick bandages she felt a tender bump.

Now if only she could remember how she became so injured. All she could seem to remember was a dangerous stranger and odd shadows… as hard as she wracked her mind, nothing else was coming back. Robin laid her head back on the many fluffy pillows and closed her eyes…. Maybe in the morning she would find out what this strange place was.

"What's that… oh geez."

In a moonlit corner, a bat was caught in the curtains. It thrashed and screamed in desperation; Robin cowered in bed. Bats were possibly her least favorite animals.

"Hey! Hey! Somebody come here, there's a bat in my room! Somebody! " She listened for footsteps.

Nothing.

Untangling herself from the sheets, she limped to the door. "Hey, somebody! Hey! HE-"

The door swung open, and a silver-haired man in silk pajamas rushed in the door. He looked rather harried and cross. "What? Why didn't you just get it yourself-" He stopped just in time to keep from running straight into Robin. "Who- oh. What is it? Are you hurt?"

"Umm…" Robin was now painfully aware that she was dressed only in a hospital gown. Looking at her feet, she tried to remember what it was that warranted her screaming.

"Well?" Apparently, this man was not a night owl.

"There's, um, a bat. Up there, in the curtain." She pointed at the window.

This new stranger squinted at the still- thrashing bat. After a moments consideration, he shuffled out the door. "Stay here," he mumbles sleepily.

Robin rolled her eyes and limped back to the bed. "Like I've got anywhere good to go."

The sound of doors opening and muted mumbles punctuated the silence. Before long, two pairs of feet came shuffling down the hall. Another door opened and closed, and the first groggy man entered the room, accompanied by another, much taller figure- holding a broom.

"Over there, Master Wayne. In the corner by the curtains." He pointed to the bat.

The second man walked confidently forward, raised the broom high over his head and carefully poked the curtains until the unfortunate bat disentangled itself. He then held the curtain back and the bat flew quietly out the window. Setting the broom in the corner, he turned to Robin.

"Annoying little buggers aren't they? I can hardly stand them myself."

Robin stared at him, dumbfounded. Whoever this latest arrival was, he was clearly wealthy. He wore a rich red silk robe that reached to the floor, and flannel pajamas to match. Even his navy slippers looked expensive. Robin mused that anyone who had such expensive pajamas must have been obscenely wealthy.

This odd stranger dragged the chair from in front of the desk to the foot of the bed. "You must be anxious, waking up in a strange house in a strangers bed. I'm sorry for the rude awakening, the bats nest in a cave somewhere near the lake." His voice was quiet and calm.

"It's been a while since I slept in a bed." Robin could think of nothing more coherent to say.

He frowned. "Is that why you were on the docks? You're homeless?"

Robin said nothing. "Don't be ashamed to admit it, you aren't the only homeless person in Goth-"

"Who are you?" Robin burst out. "And why did you bring me back to your house?" Her days on Gotham's' streets head taught her suspicion of anyone too kindly.

"You were attacked on the docks. I brought you here because you were injured and unconscious- you've had a concussion and cracked your skull, and you fell in the water running away from me."

"You were attacked on the docks. I brought you here because you were injured and unconscious- you've had a concussion and cracked your skull, and you fell into the harbor. My name is Bruce Wayne. This is my home, Wayne mansion."

Chapter 3

"You're Bruce Wayne? Bruce Wayne, as in Bruce Wayne, Prince of Gotham? The city's most infamous playboy?" Robin reached over and turned on the stained-glass lamp. "I don't believe my eyes."

Bruce chuckled. "Been reading the tabloids, have we?"

"Wha- oh. Yeah, used to work for one."

"What were you doing working for a tabloid?"

"Just delivering." Robin squirmed under the sheets; all she wore underneath the gown were her panties.

"But you're a bit young to have a job. The hiring age is sixteen."

"The hiring manager didn't seem to mind. Besides, all I did was go around at three in the morning tossing the Gotham Hawk into people's driveways. It paid pretty fair, all things considered." She shrugged; the gown fell off her shoulders, exposing her entire chest.

"Aack!" Robin dove under the sheets, embarrassed enough to pee her pants- or wet the bed, at any rate. "Where are my clothes?" She asked angrily, peeking out to glare out at Bruce. It must have been Bruce or the sleepy man who had undressed her- hardly a comforting thought, either way. "You freak! Perv! You coulda at least put me in some pajamas! Why am I naked anyway?"

"I told you, you fell in the harbor. I had to look you over to make sure that your skin didn't have any damage from the freezing water." Bruce looked uncomfortably at the floor. "I hope you'll forgive me. Besides, you wouldn't have had a chance if I'd just left you there."

Robin was little comforted. "If I was hurt so bad, why didn't you just call a doctor? Or can Bruce Wayne not afford a physician?" Her Chicago-esque accent came on full force, just as it always did when she got sarcastic. "What, was the ER full? Was the Lamborghini out of g-"

"My, you are sarcastic. Maybe you aren't as bad as I thought." He frowned. "I am a physician," Bruce said.

Robin stared, nonplussed. "But I thought you were a-"

"Businessman," Bruce broke in. "Yes, I am involved at Wayne Industries, but I studied at Princeton to become a pediatrician. Just like my father."

"Oh,… well, then maybe you've gotta point. But I'd still like to see that degree." Robin glared at Bruce, hoping to inspire some guilt on his part.

"Then see it you will, as soon as you get up tomorrow morning." Bruce opened his mouth to say more, but at that moment, a clock began to chime. Robin listened carefully, counting each chime. "Did that thing just chime thirteen times?"

"Uh, yes… it's on military time," Bruce said hurriedly. He then rose from his chair, looking suddenly serious. "Well, I should get back to bed, tomorrow is a long day for me." He headed for the door, but Robin stopped him.

She sat up, clutching the gown to her. "Wait! You haven't said where my clothes are."

"Alfred, my butler, put them in the wash- I imagine he will wash them several times."

Robin grinned sheepishly "They were pretty revolting."

"If you want something to wear in the meantime, there is a bath robe in the closet there-" he indicated the bathroom door- "It's in the walk-in closet next to the shower, and probably some slippers." He turned to go, but paused in the doorway. "I may not be home until the afternoon tomorrow. Feel free to look around. Any room that's private- and there aren't many- will be locked. I will tell Alfred you have my permission."

And with a swish of his silk robe, Bruce Wayne strode purposefully out the door.

Chapter 4

Robin turned the map and hitched up her pants. "Now it makes sense." Turning down the hall, which, according to her map, led to a staircase, she struggled to keep her double-cuffed pants from catching in the crutch as she hobbled along.

They weren't her pants; they had belonged to a young Bruce Wayne. Both she and Alfred had agreed that her own clothes looked little cleaner after five washings, so Alfred had marched off to another bedroom and pulled out a red flannel shirt and denim jeans. As Robin expected, it was all too big- the shirt came almost to her knees, and the sleeves had to be rolled up to half their length. The jeans were no better; they were nearly as tall as she was, and the belt Alfred had offered her (also the property of a teenage Bruce) could have wrapped around her twice. Even at fifteen, "Master Wayne" had been nearly twice her size.

Alfred had also given her a wrapped box which- she had to laugh at this- contained a leather-bound map of Wayne mansion, courtesy of Bruce. She figured it was a map

Robin looked at the map- where had she decided she was? Oh yes- the staircase leading to the third floor of the west wing. She continued down the hall, stopping to look into the rooms as she passed them. They had all turned out to be bedrooms of offices. As it happened, there had been only three locked doors, which she assumed were Bruce's and Alfred's rooms. She turned a right corner and descended up the wooden staircase.

She could feel her pants slipping as she walked up, but didn't take her eyes off the map. There were so many landings and other stairs branching off, and she knew she would lose her bearings if she did. The map indicated a huge room on the map that had no label, and she wanted to know what it was.

She reached the first landing; her pants were sagging. Still, she continued on.

Halfway to the second landing; her pants were slipping toward her waist.

Three steps up; they just barely held at her hips. Robin gulped and did a sort of hip-shaking jig to keep them up.

Two more steps-

The jeans fell down to her knees and caught the crutch in mid-step, sending her bonking and bashing all the way to the first landing. She slid across the floor like a hapless figure skater. She thumped against door and stopped. The crutch slid to a stop a few feet away.

She sighed. "I sure fellfor that one."

Bad puns aside, Robin felt pretty floored. "Good thing puns make it easier to see the humor."

Robin cocked her ear. As her heartbeat slowed; she heard footsteps sounding in the hall below. She gulped. "Alfred."

He had been clandestinely following Robin all day, no doubt to make sure she didn't get into any trouble. Honestly, did he really expect her to believe that he just happened to be cleaning everywhere she was headed?

Robin grabbed the crutch and crawled army-style through the half-open door. She nudged it, and it closed quietly.

It all reminded Robin of the attack on the docks. The footsteps pounded past her. She waited until they faded and got up. Only then did she realize that this was not just another bedroom.

Even years later, Robin would swear that what she saw made her heart stop.

Really, is there such thing as a good pun?

Which brings up another question- where does Alfred find all the time to vacuum Wayne mansion?

A/N: I just got back into school, so updates will be a trifle slower. Hang in there, I'm not done just yet!