Author's Note: I will finish this. I will. I just need a bit more time and a little more feedback from you the reader. The reason this chapter has taken so long to produce is because I went on deployment to Afghanistan, then Germany, then the U.S and then Cyprus. So I've been really busy. I'm thinking another two chapters to end the story. This chapter details what Luke has done with his new information and the fallout it creates. Things get interesting…

Enjoy.

Luke 10

My name is Luke Martin and I am a shadow. I follow them when they go out on their patrols, track them as they work through the scum, and always leave before I overstay my welcome. This is the best way of dealing with this secret. I don't want to tell anyone the truth about Dick, about what he and Wayne do almost every night. I'd sell Wayne down the river in a second, but not Dick. He deserves to keep his privacy. The truth is though, my imagination isn't that great, outside of violent resolutions to trauma that is. I can read books and sort of imagine the scene in my head, but it's barely better than a Crayola drawing. Too much blunt force to the head. Probably too many memories crowding up the space too. So I use a high-powered set of binoculars, a rooftop and total silence to save my head the trouble of trying to imagine what Dick is doing as Robin. I've been sitting atop of Ace Chemicals every other night for nearly three weeks watching them go through Park Row.

I slip out of the house after ten-thirty when Charlie and Linda have put me to bed, get here by subway and watch for a couple of hours. I know now this is where they finish their night. It's also where a lot of drug-dealers and gangbangers run to when Dick and Wayne flush them out of their hiding places. I always see a good show from here. Thursday night is no different. Just after midnight, both of them drop down from the skies and start final clean-up duties outside the old courthouse. I get a perfect view as Dick buries a fist in some chump's grill and watch teeth and blood fall out in the aftermath. Dick is beautiful, but incredibly brutal when it suits him. I bet he could beat up my stepdad without breaking sweat, kill him even. After what he did to me and for how long, that's a terrifying thought. I get lost in that for almost five minutes.

When I focus down again, I see Dick finishing off the last two on his own. Wayne is nowhere to be seen. I scope around for him but see nothing. I could've sworn he was just…

"You should not be here."

I slowly look over my shoulder. Wayne is stood less than three feet behind me. With his body hidden behind a cape and his face hidden behind a mask, he should look ridiculous, a billionaire playing dress-up. But he doesn't. He looks like the scariest thing on Earth. For the first time in a long while, I'm actually afraid. I look back at Dick.

"He can't see us. This is a private conversation." Wayne says, his voice going through me like a cold breeze through a graveyard. I stand up.

"Is this where I disappear?" I ask. Wayne draws closer. He makes no discernible sound whatsoever. If I'm a shadow, he's a ghost.

"I do not make children disappear. This 'practice' of yours must stop. Now." I glance down at Dick again: he's looking around for his boss. "He is trained. You are not. If you persist in this venture, you will likely be killed, sooner rather than later. Is that what you want, for him to attend your funeral?"

"Aren't you going to threaten to bring down the media circus again? Don't you want me to move out of the city altogether?" I challenge. Wayne's grim expression does not change in answering.

"No. I was…mistaken. You are not a bad influence on him. If anything, your presence in his life has helped with certain…issues." No denials over his identity. No bullshit. Wayne knows I know his secret. He isn't scared though. Why would he be? I'm just one crazy blond boy with a pair of binoculars and he's…Batman.

"Have long have you known I was watching?"

"Since the first night twenty-one days ago."

"Why didn't you say anything earlier?"

"I could not be sure of your identity. I assumed you were a freelance photographer at first. Once I had sighted you the third time in the same place, I took precautions." He gestures to the door for roof access. I squint and see nothing. Then a small red dot flashes once. A spycam. So simple…and smart. It makes me feel stupid.

"Does Dick know I'm up here?" I ask looking down at him as he stands confused outside the courthouse. He starts searching the skyline.

"No. I do not wish him to find out either. I doubt he would be happy knowing you were doing this without the precaution of a safety net." Wayne says, referencing Dick's insistence I always prep the net before we do any private gymnastics training. He sees everything apparently. I consider what my silence is worth.

"Aren't you scared I'll tell someone who you are?"

"No. If you wished to do so, you would have done so by now. Whatever your reasons for staying silent, thank you. If you stop now, I will not pursue this matter any further. Nothing will change in your friendship. I promise you that." Even in a creepy voice and an even creepier costume, he sounds sincere and frank as hell. I look down and see Dick beginning to scale the courthouse without the need for a net. He is trained. I am not. I guess that excuses hypocrisy. I nod and know I've lost my privacy forever in doing it. He'll never let me go now.

"Fine. I'll quit. I promise."

"Good." He says before turning away and calmly walking off the edge of the rooftop. I sit back down and watch him glide to the courthouse like an actual bat. It's impressive and freakish at the same time. Except Dick isn't there waiting anymore.

"Nice night, huh?" I hear light feet approach me from the left. I nod in agreement.

"Yep. He's going to be back up here in a second when he can't find you." I say watching Wayne scan the area for his partner. I hear Dick settle on the ledge beside my vantage point.

"Let him. Enough secrets already. I knew before now anyway." He tells me with a lethargic sigh. I turn to my left and find him smiling at me in that way that is uniquely his. "You're way too smart not to have figured it out. No offense to everyone else, but you really are impressive. I mean, to know that big a secret and not let it show, not tell anyone at all, is an amazing skill. Do you have a crush on me or something?" He says it teasingly and I manage a small smile back.

"You think boys in shorts are my thing? That's original."

"I know you and Ellie Saunders are a thing: but is that your thing?" He doesn't even sound angry with me. Under the mask he never seems to care from what I've seen, but I didn't think he'd be so relaxed talking with me like this: at work. I want to sit and talk with him like this for hours, about nothing in particular. But with Wayne likely halfway up the building, I think I should go. I get to my feet.

"This feels like a school thing, not a midnight rooftop rendezvous thing, especially with you sat in your underwear…"

"Pixie shorts, not underwear." Dick corrects me following my example and rising up. I pat him on the shoulder, brushing against his cape. He wears a cape. An actual cape. What a life.

"Whatever you say. I'm stopping already, so this doesn't get any more awkward."

"Says the guy whose seen me naked more times than Alfie?" Dick replies walking to the fire escape with me.

"Sometimes I think you like it." I say, trying to sound blasé about it all. He smirks.

"Sometimes I do." We both stop walking. I look at him and expect a burst of laughter followed by 'I'm just kidding'. But the laughter doesn't come. I have no idea if this is a wind-up or not. And him wearing a mask so I can't read his eyes isn't fair either. After maybe five or six seconds of deathly silence between us, Dick removes his mask and lets me see the sincerity in his eyes.

"Okay, that came out all wrong. Let me explain what I mean: I'm not into guys. And when I say I like you seeing me naked, I don't mean it romantically. I just like not having to hide from you. I'm always trying to hide a scar here or a bruise there in the locker room or the pool from people who can't understand them. And secretly I'm always terrified I'll slip up, someone will see something they shouldn't and it'll get Bruce in trouble. They'll say domestic abuse and he'll say nothing to protect our identities. He'll go to prison and I'll be alone. Most people don't understand that. But you do. And you don't judge me, you don't stare: you just let me be. So, even though it sounds a little fruity, I like giving you a couple of glimpses of the whole package, just because I can get away with it. If it sounds like I'm teasing you or anything, I'm sorry." He's nervous. I can tell admitting this to me is a big deal for him. With his popularity, double-life and general air of heterosexuality, saying aloud that he likes it when a blond boy with mental health issues sees him in his birthday suit is something special. I don't leave him in suspense. I pat him genially on the shoulder.

"Yeah, don't give me false hope." I reply to get another smirk from him. "Just so you know, I don't want to fuck you either." His reaction to this is a little stronger. His eyes widen and his mouth is half-open for a split second before breaking into a full-blown grin.

"Glad to hear it." He replaces his mask and playfully jabs me in the arm. "See you tomorrow."

I go home and I sleep for just over seven hours before getting up for school. I sleep really well knowing that being right on Dick being Robin hasn't alienated us in the slightest. Whatever horrific images pass through my head this morning, I just ignore by thinking about him smiling at me last night. He likes it when I see him naked. He likes it. I've literally never heard another guy say that to another. Plenty of my admirers in Juvie said they liked seeing me in the showers, but none of them said they liked me seeing them totally exposed. It makes me feel weirdly happy inside just thinking about him admitting that openly. But whatever I feel inside, I don't let show on the outside. People get suspicious about it, and that might lead to some dark days. Charlie and Linda don't seem to notice anything different about me during breakfast, just that I'm as sunny as I was yesterday or the day before. My violent thoughts and the images I use to squash them are helping keep things even. Ellie helps keep things in perspective. Dick helps keep me happy. Everything is good. Everything's been good for weeks.

Time goes by quickly. Dick's in school today, so we sit next to each other for most lessons. In Geography I sit next to Ellie. Both Dick and I hide secrets well, even from each other. Even when it's the same secret. We both act like the rooftop meeting didn't happen. And with Ellie, I pretty much push that to the back of my mind and just concentrate on her. It's been getting easier to ignore the voices in my head. I just listen to her. She's talking about the prep work for her latest debate circuit while we learn about volcanoes and tectonic plates. She's read a lot for these debates, more than I'd have thought was necessary to win some regional tournament. My mind is fighting to break me now, desperately digging into the vault for memories that will have any impact on me. It's been weakening in intensity for the last ten days, maybe exhausted trying to keep pace. It drags up the time he threw me head-first downstairs and I came within a couple of inches of breaking my neck. Instead, I fractured my ribs and broke my collar bone. Mom just watched me bleed on the hallway carpet, like a deer in headlights. This is a good one but I just counter it with a fantasy of flossing my step-dad's balls with razor wire whilst he's nailed to the floor. Easy fix. Trauma backs off yet again. I keep listening to Ellie. Eventually, the bell rings.

He likes it when I see him naked. He likes it. I can't stop replaying those words over and over in my head as Dick and I practice gymnastics in the sports hall after school. Somehow my body isn't disintegrating from all this activity. If anything, it's getting stronger. I know if I reach forty I'm literally going to be in a wheelchair from everything that's happened to me anyway, so I enjoy it all now. Dick helps me practice for the team whenever he can, which is most nights. Tonight he's taking me through my ring routine. Every time he demonstrates the movements, he's nothing less than perfect. Even with fresh bruises and welts blemishing his torso, he's perfect. I actually think he looks more beautiful with his war wounds. I watch them try to force him into an error, but they fail. Now it's my turn.

I drop down after two perfect renditions out of eight tries and proceed to lie flat on my back. He's beautiful, but as an instructor, he can also be a total asshole. He always wants three perfect run-throughs of whatever we're doing before he calls it a night. I'm sucking wind, but I can handle the cramping shunting through my whole body. He crouches over me, grinning in amusement.

"You got one more to get." He tells me.

"I know. Give me a minute, okay? I don't have the cardiovascular system of a world-class athlete to work with here."

"You get this right on Monday and you'll be in the first team. Everything else is solid. You're just weak on the rings. So get your ass up and finish this."

"I still need a minute."

"Would a kiss help?"

"Screw off." I say lethargically rising back up. His grin widens. His teasing is so close to flirting sometimes that I get confused. He teases all the other guys too, but every time he does that to them, I know he's just teasing. With me, things become less clear. But I just shrug it off. I jump back up and grab the rings. It begins all over again.

"That's a solid three." Dick remarks when I'm back on the mat and dying slowly. A moment later he lies down next to me. "You'll nail it on Monday. Hard to believe you nearly died a month ago."

"Well I'm almost glad I didn't now." I reply in-between gulps of air. He lets out a brief giggle. A weirdly long silence follows. I turn my head in his direction and find him staring blankly at the ceiling. It's the same faraway look he gets whenever he's remembering something haunting about his past. I'm pretty sure I have that look almost permanently. I turn my head back to join him in admiring the plasterwork.

"I once got beaten to within an inch of my life once. One more blow, and I was a total goner. Bruce literally saved me at the last second." He tells me a minute later. I figured something like that would feature at least once in the crime fighting career of a kid under the age of fifteen. I've been beaten half-to-death nearly a dozen times, but my appendix bursting was the first time I'd actually knocked on the grim reaper's door. Thinking of him mangled on the floor, bleeding like a stuck pig while some shadowy asshole prepares to deliver the killing blow makes a hell of a messy Crayola picture. I scrunch it up.

"You don't have to tell me that, Dick. You don't have to tell me anything if you don't want." I assure him, still staring up at the ceiling. Trapped in the garage facing a brick barrage asserts itself, hoping for a reprieve from another exile. I quash it with shoving Wayne's face through a plate-glass window and then dragging him side-to-side on the remaining shards to dice his chin. This is almost too easy now. I'm in a groove. Dick sighs.

"But I do want to. Before, I couldn't say anything because of Bruce and our secrets. I want you to know the real me. I want you to know what I've been through. Pretending that you've never been seriously hurt when I get lumped with something every other week is really hard. The excuses Alfie makes up when I go off sick from school and the fact I can't have friends over to visit when I'm laid up for weeks on end just make it worse."

"Yeah, but I understand that crap. My step-dad put me out of action so much I got expelled from my schools for poor attendance. I wasn't allowed friends…at all. Every day was a new kind of hell for me. But none of that needs airing in public, even if it made me this way. Those moments aren't worth sharing. And if my darkest moments aren't worth sharing then neither are…"

"I got a man killed last year…because I was stupid." I turn my head to look at him. He's staring back at me. I honestly thought the height of secrecy with him stopped at being Batman's sidekick. I thought that was the apex of his private life. Getting another human being killed, while being Robin, is a whole other level that I did not expect. Richard Grayson, accessory to murder. It doesn't fit. Not at all. I'm quick to back him up.

"I doubt that was the reason. Was Bruce with you?"

"Yeah."

"Then it wasn't your fault. It was his. He put you in that position in the first place. That death is on him."

"It gets worse. Less than a minute after getting him killed, I was nearly killed with a baseball bat. My actions nearly cost Bruce two lives in less than five minutes. Can you imagine what went through his mind? And then after I ran away to join some weird cult…"

"Okay, back up." I say sitting up. Dick doesn't follow. He just lies there, looking up at me. He's nervous again, even more than last night. I hate seeing him on edge like this, like he's scared of rejection…from me. That is laughable. He's worried about what I think of his past? It's darker than I thought, which is kind of impressive in itself, but I already feel like I need a roadmap to understand what he's saying. I put my hand atop of his and squeeze it once to show him everything's good. "Look…I will listen to anything you have to say. I will. But you've got to explain it one thing at a time. My life was shit, okay? I went through the ringer. But my life makes sense: your life is fucking crazy. So, one thing at a time, please."

And with that assurance, he slowly starts rolling from there…