Much longer chapter this time guys. I hope you enjoy.

Disclaimer: Nope. Nothing is mine.

Sorrow looks back,
Worry looks around,
Faith looks up! -Unknown

"Again."

Dick breathed tightly and did a front side kick, sweat rolling down his pale face, his hands balled up into fists. Bruce frowned, watching as his ward kick the dummy in the chest, causing it too fall back and then rebound back toward him. Dick jumped back, falling into his fighting stance. The eight year old was breathing hard, his chest rising and falling heavily but steadily.

"Your form is off. Again," Bruce inclined, tilting his head upward as Dick sighed deeply and repeated the stance, his foot sliding a bit to the left as he did so. Bruce pinched the bridge of his nose and resisted to urge to comment. He was trying his hardest not to tell "Robin" that he was messing up, but every little detail was standing out like a light in the dark and it was almost like he was having OCD with fighting stances.

"Did I get it this time?"

"Stance was off. Again. Dick, you have to-"

"Try harder," the boy whined, "I know. You said it, like, a bazillion times."

Bruce smirked slightly, the boys' facial features looking quite dorky as he pouted with big blue eyes, his bottom lips popping out and his cheeks growing slightly puffy. Bruce raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms, his head tilting a little to the left; to Dick, he looked unamused, to Alfred it would be more like amusement.

"Dick, I've only said it seven times. Because you've messed up your stance… seven times."

"You're no fun."

"You're not doing it right. So, now, do it again. Twice more."

Dick sighed and ran a hand through his hair, a habit he'd recently picked up from Bruce, who often did it when he was annoyed when Lex Luthor tried to call him and organize a meeting. It seemed this was happening a lot more than "Mr. Wayne" would have liked it too but what could he do? Sighing, Bruce watched as the boy did it, his stance finally coming to the more appropriate one. They'd been training for three months know, ever since Dick had convinced him to let him be his "partner", and the boy was doing exceptionally well, except a few of his stances were off. He could throw a punch and dodge a ray gun, but he couldn't seem to get his feet in the right place.

His balance was, of course, exceptional, and his "detective skillz" were very well developed. Apparently Dick had told him that when he was at the Circus he would try and pick out different people an analyze them because his father had told him Sherlock Holmes stories to bed and so he'd decided he wanted to be a detective like Sherlock Holmes.

Dick had no problem cart wheeling over punches and flipping over kicks. The dummies that Bruce had were "too easy" and Dick often ended up reprogramming them with the beginner computer skills they'd gone through, most of the time ending up with a bruise he described as a "battle scar". They hadn't gone over weapons yet but Dick had taken a fascination to the Taser that was in Batman's belt and had ended up getting tased because he pressed the wrong button… the only button. Bruce had found it quite humorous and Alfred had just shaken his head while throwing a bucket of ice cold water on the boy to wake him up.

"Did them!" Dick called out, his voice echoing around the cave. He ran up to Bruce, sweating all over, but before he reached him he did a serious of cartwheels and flips. He landed on his toes and fell forward, rolling into a somersault and the landed one foot exactly in front of Bruce, a grin plastered on his face. Bruce couldn't help but smirk as he did so, and as he was about to comment on Dick's form, even though there was nothing wrong with it because Bruce was only a tad jealous that he couldn't do that exactly himself, a message from JL popped up.

Bruce glanced at Dick. "Hide."

The boy nodded and leapt into the shadows, climbing his way up the steel beams that held the cave up. He sat in the rafters, looking down at Bruce and the Batcomputer, swinging his legs gleefully.

Bruce pressed the accept button and watched a picture of Hawk Woman's face popped up. Her helmet was on and her mace was swinging from her bronze belt. She stood stiffly at the camera, looking slightly confused as she watched it intently. After a moment she was smirking under the helmet and her hands were twitching as Bruce's face popped up on the screen.

"Batman," she inclined, "Superman needs you up here, something about the Zeta-Beams? I really don't know and he doesn't exactly want Flash messing with them."

Bruce nodded, shaking his head at the thought, already in "Batman Mode" as Dick had dubbed it. Apparently, everytime someone from the League would call or arrive unexpectedly, Bruce would go all stoic and silent and calculating. According to the League, Batman didn't need or want a "partner" so Dick was sort of staying out of the League Business by not being a "superhero". Diana and Clark would rip his head off. Shayera would approve and say he was training him to be a soldier. Green Lantern would just shake his head and Martian Manhunter would just stare at him like he was insane. Flash would have a spasm attack. Alfred already had his head.

"The Zeta-Beams are finished," Bruce, or Batman, replied curtly, "what about them?"

Shayera shrugged, glancing back behind her as Flash ran onto the screen in the background. "I have no idea. But… we don't trust Flash. Or Superman, so we just decided to call you. Are you busy?"

"Well-"

"Good, come along now."

And then the transmission ended, leaving a disgruntled Batman and a very cheeky Robin, who had leapt down gracefully from the rafters. They stared at each other for a few moments and then Dick began to laugh, grasping his stomach and almost falling over. Bruce grunted, pulling away from the computer screen and walking stiffly toward where the cases that held his suits sat. While he would have loved to continue training with "Robin", he really didn't want Flash messing with the Zeta-Tech. It already cost a lot of money and they didn't really need more fundraisers that involved fake Girl-scouts. The last time had been a disaster.

"I'll be back, you stay here."

"Where would I go?"

"Weapons vault." Bruce hesitated and then added, "Barbra's.

Dick scoffed and then smirked, leaning back on his heals. "Never," he drawled and then ran toward the elevator. He pressed the up button and turned around, pivoting on his heels. He cocked his head to the side and stepped backwards as the door opened.

"How dare you accuse me of such a ghastly thing!?"

And then the doors shut and zipped up toward the manor. Bruce shook his head, pulling himself rather reluctantly toward the cases.

He went over the things that he would have to go over with Dick. First actual fighting skills and pressure points and then it would have to be using a grappling gun. Then weapons like a Batarang and then computer skills. While they already did the basic "training", which Dick seemed to really like, Bruce was wary of him learning this trade. The boy was already brilliant in his own right and giving him advancements in technology didn't seem like the best idea. He'd already tried to hack into Gotham Academy's school network because he didn't want green beans for lunch the next day.

Well, he didn't try. He succeeded.

He'd come running toward Bruce with the most happiest look on his face. He promptly yelled that he had hacked into the schools system and they were now having Peach Ice Cream as the side dish on Wednesday. He almost fell out of the chair when an associate of his asked what was going on. He'd been on a business call.

Alfred had found it very funny.

][][][

Dick had found it quite humorous when he walked into the main foyer to see Wonder Woman, or, as he had been told to call her, Diana Prince. Well, Miss Prince anyway, because he wasn't allowed to call people by their first names. He knew she was Wonder Woman and that she has a thing for Bruce (not that either of them knew it) and to find her in the main foyer made him want to laugh. He wasn't exactly sure why though, of course.

He had happily trotted into the main foyer and was about to make his way up the grand staircase toward his room to read his mothers journal when Miss Prince called out his name. He'd frozen, pivoted on his heels, and turned to find the Amazon princess staring at him with an amused expression. He had sighed deeply and then walked forward, his blue eyes meeting hers.

"Miss Prince!" he called out excitedly, his elated expression simply brightening her day.

"Richard," she mused, "why are you sweating?"

Dick paused and then smiled, the smooth lie rolling over his tongue as he spoke. "Bruce got me a trapeze set so I can keep up my forms and routines-" it wasn't a lie, technically "-I just came back from practicing."

"Oh really?"

"Mmhmm. It's good that I get to practice," he inclined, "Asta e ceea ce spune Alfred oricum!"

Diana smirked slightly, only hearing Alfred's name in the jumble of words. She knew that English wasn't his native language, which she felt truly intriguing, because it wasn't her's either. Ancient Greek came much more easily to her tongue, sliding over the words fluently, and she often preferred to speak in such. It seemed Bruce's ward was making an effort to speak English to everyone, but sometimes he would trip over the words, mixing them up but then move along as if nothing happened. She loved it.

"So," the boy rocked back on his heels, "why are you here? Bruce said you guys… needed him?"

Diana's smile faded a bit as she glanced away but then she looked back at the eight year old, who was staring up at her expectantly, and smiled once more. The League had sent her because Dick knew her the most, and had called Bruce on the "Zeta-beam Situation", which didn't actually exist. She would take Dick out to dinner and see what she could find out about the dynamic duo, because the League *coughSupermancough* was getting weary. Clark still found it a bad idea that Dick was with Bruce and J'onn was really confused about the whole ordeal.

"Yes, but I decided while he was doing that and because I have no idea how the tech works, I'd come a visit you. Want to go for pizza? Have you even gone out for food in Gotham yet?"

Dick laughed and then shrugged, wiping sweat from his brow. " Nope! But sure let's go!" And then he turned and ran up to get changed, running up two steps at a time, his delicate pale fingers nimbly touching the silky wood.

One Week Later:

Flip. Duck. Punch. Duck. Kick.

Dick's thoughts revolved around these three words, running through his head over and over.

Flip. Duck. Punch. Duck. Kick.

He was going over the routines with Bruce and, to himself he had no idea what Bruce was thinking, he was doing exceptionally well. The sweat dripped from his ebony hair, rolling onto his face. His whole body ached and his muscles screamed with each passing minute. But he still went on, his body moving on instinct. He had to keep going, keep moving. His blood pumped through his veins and his heart beat faster with every motion.

Flip.

He ducked down, falling toward the floor in one swift motion.

Punch.

He moved to the side as Bruce's fist whooshed past his ear, only to be met with an empty space filled with air.

Kick.

He jumped out of the way and flipped over a leg, his body moving like liquid; all of it in one fluid motion. He landed nimbly on his toes, which lightly touched the floor like a feather, and fell into a forward stance, his fists rising and his chest rising and falling as he leveled his breath. Bruce was staring at him approvingly, falling from his stance and moving backward.

"Good. Very good. You're getting better, better than better actually, I'm very impressed."

"Will I be able to go out with you soon?" Dick breathed, his breath getting caught in his throat as he awaited an answer. His eyes met with Bruce's and then he immediately glanced away, his fists falling from his front and to his side, fingering his blue and white leotard that gripped his skin tightly, showing the forming muscle. His fingers twitched occasionally and the look on his face told Bruce that he was starting to get impatient.

"Perhaps," Bruce mused, turning toward the Batcomputer. "I'll have to think about it. We still need to work on the Grappling Gun… and the weapons you'll be using."

"Can I go practice Knife throwing now, then?" Dick asked impatiently, sending a mock scowl toward the much older man, crossing his arms and walking forward. He ran ahead of Bruce and plopped down in the large comfy chair that was situated in front of the Batcomputer, spinning around in it with a smirk. He crossed his legs and leaned back, relaxing ever so slightly.

"Yes, so get out of the chair."

"You're no fun!"

"Go throw some knives, I have work to do."

Dick huffed and hopped out, making his way toward the weapons vault. He disappeared behind the large metal door, his soft feather feet not making a sound on the cold steel. Bruce sat down in the chair and listened to the boy rummage around in there, looking for the right knives. Apparently he had a specific one he liked the throw because he liked the ivy design on the side. Not the Bruce recalled any knife he owned with ivy engravings going down the side, but he rolled with it and let Dick do what he wanted.

Eventually he heard the sound of metal against wood. That large thwack! that pierced the air echoed around the empty cave. Sometimes he would turn around and watch his son as he flipped and jumped in the air, throwing the knives and Batarangs with little issue. Whatever he'd learned at the circus must've stuck with him because even Bruce had learned a few things here and there, not that he would ever admit it.

Dick liked extravagance. He liked big, dramatic, something that would make you look at him. Perhaps it was the circus in him, or maybe it was he liked to be looked at, but Bruce needed to get it out of him. Not that he really minded, if anything he thought it amusing, but Dick couldn't be tromping into a drug deal covered with shiny metal. They'd gone over his "Robin" costume, adding things here and there. Dick was intent on having some color while Bruce wanted to make it black and gray with a mottled sort of pattern, allowing his ward to blend in with almost any surrounding. Dick prominently refused.

Eventually they came to an agreement.

Dick had expanded upon his computer skills and had so far convinced his adoptive father to let him take on this area of expertise. He was learning how to create viruses, hack into databases and mainframes, clear off entire hard drives, and hack into security cameras and systems. Overall, the boy had almost figured most of it out, it was just a matter of getting him the tech and showing him the basics. He had a knack for finding problems and patterns and solutions.

He was a genius.

Bruce was proud and he knew Mary and John Grayson would be as well. Dick was smart, evasive, clever, bright, creative and an overall genius. He was learning survival skills from Alfred, and was already making guessing and scenarios in which he would try to find a way out off. Alfred was quite pleased with this and had informed him that he would no longer "require assistance". Dick had been ecstatic, bouncing up in down in his bubbly smart aleck manor.

And then there was Barbra. The girl would've been a bad influence in a way that meant joking wise. Dick already liked to prank, which Bruce had found out the hard way when he's walked in to the Batcave to find his belt painted bright pink, and having the commissioner's daughter around certainly didn't help. Bruce or Alfred would often catch them in the foyer, or in one of the empty rooms, doing cartwheels, backward handsprings, flips and jumps. Though, they made a great team, nevermind the age difference.

He turned around and hefted himself up, pulling his body away from the comfy Lay-Z Boy*, and toward the elevator. Dick was still throwing Batarangs and knives, a determined look on his face. Chuckling, he pressed the "up" button and waited for the door to open. Once it did, he stepped inside and the doors closed, obscuring his view of his ward. A smile began to creep up on his face, which was abnormal because Bruce Wayne rarely ever did smile, and he stepped out into his office, which was engulfed in a pale moonlight.

He always lost track of time in the cave.

"Alfred? Is it ready?" he called out to the British butler, who stepped into the room with a glass of milk on a silver platter.

"Indeed sir, the parts were all assembled this afternoon."

Bruce grinned slightly, walking toward the older man. He grasped the glass of milk and turned away, toward the grand oak doors that led into the office, and walked out. He walked into the main foyer and into a hallway that lay behind the staircase. The wooden frame of the arch was dark and led into an even darker hallway, which held a substantial amount of doorways. The corridor was long and windowless, as it was in the center of the house, and Bruce walked down it as if he were in a sunlit park; calm and relaxed, as if nothing were about to jump out upon him.

He stopped at a door on the right, grasping the knob. He turned the iron knob to the left and the door, old and heavy, creaked open to show a concrete room. It was filled with balance beams, exercise equipment and gymnastics equipment. But the thing that stood out is what Bruce layed his eyes on.

The trapeze.

Honesty is as rare as a man without self-pity.
- Stephen Vincent Benet

Review? Please? Was this chapter good? I felt it was slow. And don't worry, I'll show the part with Diana and Dick going out to dinner, perhaps in a spin-off one-shot. ;)

-Fighter1357