Thank you CuzILuvChicken12 and Witch08 for your reviews! I got so excited about it that I'm going to post the next chapter.

Bruce refused to come out of his room. He sat on his bed, running his hands along the different grooves of the golden belt Robin had been wearing. The boy hadn't survived. Bruce and his father watched him bleed out, breathing his last and remaining silent. Even as the paramedics tried to take the body, Bruce still held his hand tightly, hoping he'd squeeze back. His mother had to carefully pull him away, tucking him under her arms like a mother bird to her young, shielding him from the horrors he had just faced.

The police received the necessary information from his father and mother, leaving him to watch the still body. Bruce didn't understand why the boy was wearing such a strange outfit. It was odd, but it was cool. He looked like a real hero. He'd certainly died as one.

No one could identify the boy, even with the mask having been removed, revealing lifeless blue eyes staring up into heavens. There were no children in all of Gotham named Robin. Bruce refused to let Robin's body be taken away to be buried in some random cemetery.

"He saved us." He whispered, though his parents and the police heard him loud and clear in the reverent silence of the tragedy. "He saved us, and we should be the ones to bury him."

The decision was made; the boy named Robin was buried on the grounds of the Wayne Manor. Bruce insisted he be clothed in his "hero" garb, although he removed the belt. It wasn't a souvenir, it was a memento.

Someone knocked on his door and Bruce was tempted to hide the belt. He didn't answer and continued running his hands over the small grooves. Alfred entered, bringing a tray of scones with him. Gently setting down the tray, the butler sat himself down on the end of the bed. Bruce didn't even so much as look at him.

"Young master Bruce," Alfred said softly, "that boy did not give up his life for you to take it yourself. His sacrifice should be honored. If you starve yourself, it will cause him a grief not known to any living thing."

Bruce ignored him, solely focused on the belt. He felt a strange connection with this boy. He couldn't quite explain it, but his death was hitting him far greater than it should have. He'd only known the boy for five minutes. Granted the boy saved his life and died in front of him, but Bruce shouldn't have been so hyper focused on this.

"Young master Bruce," Alfred tried again, "what are you thinking about?"

Bruce bit his cheek. He wondered if he should confide in Alfred. Alfred always knew what to do and say. Drawing in a shaky breath, Bruce spilled everything. He told Alfred about his fears, about his guilt, about his grief and depression. He told Alfred of the strange connection he felt and how he hadn't done the boy enough justice. His killer was still out there and what could Bruce do? He was only a child, but Robin had been just a child—what should he do?

"Young master Bruce, I believe that boy saw something in you that day. If he truly was a hero, then I think it best you aim to become the best you can be in order to honor his sacrifice."

"Alfred?" Bruce whispered, clutching the belt to his chest. "Do you think I could be a hero someday?"

Alfred smiled warmly at him and stood up. "Not unless you eat every scone on that tray. A hero cannot be a hero if he is starving to death."

Bruce managed a small smile and reached for one of the scones. "Hey Alfred?"

"Yes?"

"Don't tell father?"

"Not a word."

Robin woke from another trance to realize he was in the streets again. He felt disoriented and sick. After fighting off the nausea, he attempted to regain his bearings. It was as if time was replaying itself, and once again Dick found himself in the very same alleyway. There was no Bruce and his family being threatened, however. He was alone in the familiar Crime Alley.

Robin frowned and after he was sure the world would stay still instead of spinning like earlier, he climbed up a nearby fire escape, flipping onto a roof. There was a stray newspaper and after snatching it up and thumbing through the pages, Robin was sent reeling.

The date on the newspaper was seven years into the future. He should have been twenty. How had he slipped through time? What was he supposed to do now? Should he attempt to make contact with Bruce?

Bruce…

Memories flowed through him. He had been there in that alleyway and saved the Wayne family from tragedy. He'd been shot. Looking down at his leg, he found a hole, but no wound. Somehow he was alive. Looking over the edge of the building and back at the alley, a ghostly image of a man sprawled across the floor, limbs at awkward angles and blood pooling across the cobblestone.

Immediately backing away from the edge and away from the image, Robin struggled to breathe. He felt sick and retched off to the side. No one came up to get him. He stayed curled up in a corner on the roof muttering to himself and trying to remove the images from his mind for over four hours. The tears never stopped and by the time Dick composed himself, a sickening realization occurred.

There was no Batman anymore.

If there was no Batman, there was no Robin. Yet, it was seven years into the future and Dick had no clue where his future self was or what he was doing. Perhaps if he had really been thrown through time, he was lost and there was no Richard Grayson in the future until he arrived.

If that was the case, what was he supposed to do? Grief filled him. Without a Batman, Richard Grayson had no savior, no one to take him in. For all he knew, he—the one from this time continuum—could have been adopted by someone and moved far from Gotham long ago.

Struggling with what to do, Dick decided there was really only one thing he could do. He would have to abandon being Richard Grayson until he figured out more of what was going on and instead become Robin permanently.

Self doubt coursed through him. Was he strong enough to do this by himself? He had always worked as a team, either with Batman or Young justice. He'd never been a solo vigilante before.

"I never should have taken you on as a partner!"

Robin flinched. Batman got his wish. Batman didn't exist to have a partner, so Robin would go solo. He would do everything he could to keep Gotham in the order it was in under the hands of Batman. Reaching for his grappling hook, Robin found it missing. He was missing his utility belt—tears stung his eyes again. No Bruce, no Batman, no utility belt. Shaking away his grief, and forcing thoughts of how happy Bruce must be at that very moment, Robin flipped off of the roof and stuck to his aerial tricks. He could survive, but he was seriously crippled without his utility belt.