You guys are so awesome! I love hearing all of your predictions and questions. I've decided that I'll be updating twice a day, as I've got about a third of the story written. Your reviews inspire me to write more, so keep reviewing! Hope you enjoy! Also, please point out any grammatical mistakes if you catch them. I'm a bit of a comma whore, and while I do proof read before I post these, I know that I miss things.

It had been over twenty years since Bruce had seen Robin. Had the memory not been ingrained in his head and nearly traumatized him, he wouldn't have given the boy he'd seen a second thought. A soft thunk informed him that his shovel had hit the expensive casket Bruce had picked out himself. Giving one last glance up at the headstone, he read what he'd already memorized.

Robin

A true hero in which we are grateful.

There were no dates. They didn't know when the boy was born, and Bruce didn't want just a death date on it. Swallowing back painful memories, he gently opened the casket.

There was nothing.

Bruce fell to his knees in the mud of the grave. He stared at the empty casket. It wasn't possible. He'd seen him—felt him die. Bruce allowed the tears stinging his eyes to roll down his cheeks. He wasn't sure what it was he felt. He was laughing and crying at the same time and clutching the black casket as hard as he could.

Robin was gone. His savior all those years ago was never there to begin with. All those hours spent pouring over his grave, apologizing for needing his protection asking for forgiveness… it was all to an empty casket.

Robin hadn't heard him.

Robin was alive.

"Master Bruce?" Alfred asked shakily, hearing the door to the grounds open. Truthfully, he hadn't wanted to know; but he turned around anyways, shocked at what he saw. "Dear heavens!"

Bruce was covered in mud, a wavering smile on his face. Whether it was the rain or tears streaming down his cheeks, Alfred couldn't have guessed at that moment. He immediately went to fetch a towel, but Bruce stopped him in his tracks.

"Alfred," Bruce said, "it was empty."

The air turned chilly and for a few moments there was only the sound the clock ticking. The sound echoed in the manor, louder than the increased heart rate beating wildly in Alfred's chest.

"That isn't possible!"

"Check for yourself if you need to."

Alfred watched him carefully as he pulled out the belt and ran a thumb over it softly. The familiar site did nothing to ease Alfred's concern. Bruce's smile was growing, but Alfred caught the slight wavering of his bottom lip.

"Alfred, he's alive."

Insane, was Alfred's first thought. Bruce was insane and obsessed over the fallen hero; but something just didn't feel right. Alfred left, returning moments later with a dry towel. Bruce let him dry him off, never taking his eyes off of the belt in his hands.

"All this time I was talking to him, he was never there Alfred. I don't know how or why, but he's out there. I saw him today."

Once dry, Bruce hugged his butler. Alfred hesitantly hugged back, watching his employer leave the kitchen and head off to the lounge. Once he was sure Bruce was gone, he grabbed an umbrella and made his way out the door.

The mist from earlier had thickened to a sprinkle and the cold weather made it quite uncomfortable to be outside. Hesitantly, he made his way to where Robin had been buried. To his shock and dismay, the grave had been dug up, and as Bruce had said, there was no body within the beautiful casket.

Had Bruce put it somewhere? No. He knew the man his whole life, and never had he shown signs of mental instability. What would he have done with the bones of a child? No. There was something bigger at work here. Perhaps the child really was running around. Alfred could only pray this wouldn't end in tragedy once more.

It had been three days since the incident with Barbara. He'd been tailing Bruce around town ever since, keeping a watchful eye on his former father figure. He could tell Bruce was keeping a watchful eye for him as well. He hid well, covering himself within the shadows. But while he was an acrobat, without his utility belt, he was limited on how quickly he could escape in certain areas.

Bruce was at another charity event. Dick used to absolutely hate going to those; being forced to dress up and smile nonstop at those prying and invasive reporters. They never tired of bothering him and prodding him for information on "Gotham's Hottie". It was sickening.

Now he only wished he could go again. His stomach growled and squeezed painfully from within his abdomen. He hadn't eaten in at least two days. His blue eyes from underneath his mask spotted the tables of appetizers and he bit his lip.

Should he risk it?

He needed the energy. He refused to steal, and this wasn't stealing. These treats were out for those attending the event. It was a public event. The problem wasn't the others at the event, it was Bruce. He couldn't risk being caught. Bruce would ask questions and Robin wasn't sure he could handle the heartbreak. It was already hard enough to just watch the man, longing to laugh with him again.

Another growl from his stomach prompted him, and he went for it. He waited until Bruce was answering questions from a reporter. He was thoroughly distracted and Robin felt he had the chance. He grabbed what he could without being noticed and ducked out.

"Mr. Wayne, wait!"

Shit. He'd been seen.

"Mr. Wayne? Where are you going?"

Robin focused only on escaping, ducking into alleyways in between streets and listening for the heavy footsteps behind him. Once he was sure he'd lost Bruce, he sat down and looked guiltily at the food. He sure felt like he'd been stealing. It didn't feel right to eat it anymore.

Then suddenly there were footsteps, quieter, but coming his direction. He scrambled to his feet, trying to ignore the wave of dizziness that came from lack of energy and standing too quickly. Around the corner came Bruce Wayne. Like a cornered animal, Robin backed up, abandoning the food now spread all over the floor of the alley.

"Robin…"

There was something in his voice that tempted Robin to stay. He reminded himself that this wasn't the same Bruce he knew. This was Bruce Wayne, unaffected by the tragedies of crime. He couldn't compromise Bruce's happiness by a moment of weakness. He had to stay away.

"You're alive… but how?"

Robin didn't answer. He didn't want to answer. He wanted to disappear. It was starting to hurt. His heart beat wildly in his chest and he took another few steps backwards.

"Wait! Don't go! Please, not after I just found you again."

It hurt. It hurt. It hurt.

Robin shook his head and found his way out through a fire escape. He gave one last look at Bruce before flipping his way onto it and quickly slipping up and onto the roof of the building.

That evening Robin found himself curled up on the same rooftop. It was getting colder—most likely November in Gotham. He had lost track of time as of late. Then there was screaming. It was loud and desperate. Instantly Robin was on alert.

Batman wasn't real anymore, but that didn't mean Robin was off duty. Robin jumped rooftops until he found the source of the screaming. He saw a man hovered over a trembling woman. She was screaming desperately for the man to stop. She was being raped.

Instantly Robin jumped off of his rooftop, landing on the man and rolling off and away from him. He ran to the woman, taking in her ripped shirt and undone jeans. She had red hair and—Robin took a couple of steps back. It was Barbara. In his rage, he turned back to the groaning man, fists clenched and teeth gnashing together.

His pulled his fist back and crashed it into the man's jaw, satisfied with the crack he heard. He was on top of the man, throwing punch after punch.

"Don't you ever touch Babs!" He cried.

The man didn't get a chance to fight back. Robin backed off after blood coated most of the man's face. Panting for breath after his outburst, he turned back to Barbara. She looked at him in a mix of shock and horror.

It hurt.

Turning back to the man, it was suddenly not the rapist. It was a man in uniform. He was lying broken on the ground and Robin was on top of the skyscraper. His breathing started to grow heavy and he stumbled back and away from the man. He was starting to get dizzy again.

"What was…? Who are you?" Barbara asked, her arms covering her near naked chest. Tear tracks stained her cheeks, most likely from the attack. "You're the kid from before. Are you stalking me?"

Suddenly she looked more frightened of him and angry. She shakily grabbed at a purse Robin hadn't even realized was there. Inside was a gun and it was now being aimed at him. This was wrong. Babs didn't carry a gun. None of them did.

"Are you okay?" Robin asked before he could even think about it. "I got him, so it should be okay."

"Answer me!" She screamed back at him.

Robin just stood there. For a moment neither of them moved. Barbara narrowed her eyes and lowered her gun, but immediately aimed at him again once he tried to take a step towards her.

"Don't move!" She warned. "I don't know who you are, but you just stay away from me!"

It felt as if she really had shot him. It hurt to hear one of his friends—a close friend—talk to him as if he was the one who'd been on top of her just moments before.

Robin did as she asked, backing up a few steps and crouching down. He stayed still and just watched her aim the gun at him for a while. Shakily, she pulled out her cell phone. Robin listened to her relay some information and once she was done, she lowered her weapon once more.

"Are you even going to say something?" She snapped at him. "You just come out of nowhere, like a superhero or something, and won't answer any of my questions. It's creepy."

Robin allowed himself a small smile. "I saved you."

"Thanks." She said slowly after a moment. "I suppose I at least owe you that."

Robin didn't say anything more. She must have found it unnerving, because she started talking again.

"What's your name, kid?"

It hurt.

"Where are you from?"

It hurt.

"How old are you?"

"Thirteen." He answered.

"Thirteen? You're thirteen and playing hero? Kid, this is Gotham. It's dangerous!"

It hurt.

"I know. That's why I'm doing it."

"You get a rush from danger or something?" Babs glared at him. "Go home."

That hurt more. "I'm not playing, I'm protecting."

He felt so small, having to answer to Barbara this way. He was being scolded for saving lives. It wasn't fair. Robin had never felt this way before.

"Barbara!"

Both turned their heads to see Commissioner Gordon rush to his daughter. Robin supposed now was the time to leave. He'd done well; he protected Babs. He would have to protect her too. Protect both Bruce and Babs. He could pretend to laugh with them both.

"Dad, I'm okay." Babs turned to him as he stood up. "He saved me."

"I don't believe this…" Commissioner Gordon took a hesitant step toward him, and Robin took one step back. "Robin?"

How did he know? He wasn't going to stick around to find out. He turned on his heels and ran, content with the lack of footsteps following him. This wasn't going how he wanted. He would have to treat Babs the same as he treated Bruce from now on. He would hide, protect them from the shadows.

It was a shame. He could have used a friend, someone to talk to.