Chapter 8
Robin listened closely. The air was still, the room dark, the house silent. The very air she breathed pressed close to her.
Despite the late hour, Robin was wide awake. The pain medication Bruce Wayne had given her after her fall down the stairs had made her perpetually lethargic, and she had slept most of the week away. But now, with no medication in her system, she was restless. She longed to get up, to walk around, to make up for all the time spent sleeping when she could have been doing something productive- like wondering why in Gotham's name she was still here at Wayne Manor.
She looked over at the clock on the nightstand- two thirty a.m. "They're probably asleep by now…" She bit her lip; what if Alfred caught her?
"They can't catch you if they're not here." Robin knew that voice- her perpetual curiosity never let her down. "You know Bruce is away most of the night, whatever he pretends, and Alfred wouldn't be up at this hour of the night. Do it, it'll be fun!"
Robin rolled her eyes. "Great. Now even my id is using clichés."
Damning the proverbial devil on her shoulder, she threw back the bed covers and stood up. "We're off to see the wizard, the wonderful wizard of odd."
There was a subtle difference between daytime quiet and nighttime quiet. Robin had sensed that difference many times in her days on the streets, but Wayne Manor highlighted it perfectly. Night-quiet always made her breathe a sigh of relief: another tedious day, full of uncertainties and hardships, was over. Robin fondly remembered what her father always said when times got tough: "Tomorrow is another day." He never once lost faith in that, and neither Robin.
She padded through the halls in stocking feet without really watching where she was going. Memories of her parents sprang up uninvited- though certainly not unwanted.
Her family had not been wealthy by anyone's count, but they had gotten by. The Gotham City Big Top didn't pay incredibly, but it did provide them with free housing. Food and clothing were payable by her parents salary, if not plentifully. In the hardest of times, the three Graysons had always, at the very least, had each other to lean on.
Passing another block of bedrooms (or so she assumed), Robin turned a swift cartwheel and said a short Our Father. "Mom, I'm pretty sure you can hear me up in heaven, and even if you can't……… I hope you're not too ashamed."
She had wandered into a room of the house she didn't recognize. It looked like a parlor, furnished as it was with fancy couches and armchairs. One wall was lined with bookshelves, and the outer wall had two ornate windows set into the stone. In the very middle of the room stood a black grand piano, shining in the moonlight. Robin thought that it looked like something out of a romance film.
The piano gleamed. The white keys ("Probably real ivory", she thought) were smooth; they reflected the moonlight up onto the ceiling. She knew she probably shouldn't, but the chance to plunk out some familiar melody on such a fine instrument was simply too tempting.
She approached the piano quietly. One hand extended hesitantly. Her fingers brushed reverentially up and down the keyboard. Robin took a step closer and banged out three random notes.
She hurried to cover her ears as the discord echoed throughout the halls. A loud grating filled the room as a bookcase behind the piano swung back into the wall- another secret passageway.
"Oh, no…" Robin whipped around and hurried for the door-but found her path blocked. Looming in the doorway, looking none too pleased, was Alfred.
"Having fun?"