Author's Note: This is just a short little piece that was inspired by a quote from Ira Glass (the quote will be used in the second chapter, so I won't share it here). This story isn't officially part of my Spark in the Dark series, although if you'd like to read it as such you're certainly welcome to. I plan to post the second chapter tomorrow. Happy reading!

His boots dragging slightly, Dick trudged from the car to the back corner of the cave where their costumes were kept. He'd shed his mask in the vehicle, tearing it off with a little hiss the instant they had entered the long tunnel that marked the beginning of safety. For the rest of the ride he had clutched it tightly in one hand, his expression downcast as he stared out of the side window at the age-old strata flashing by.

Batman hadn't said anything about his early unmasking. In fact, he hadn't said anything at all since they'd reconvened following the botched takedown, and that was part of what was bothering the boy. …He could at least go ahead and yell at me, he fought back tears as he laid his domino carefully in its assigned drawer, straightening it before he gently slid it out of view. I know I messed up, and I know I could have done better. I know he's…he's mad at me. He researched these guys for two weeks, and then I let the most important one get away. He sniffled as silently as he could. …He'll probably never let me out on patrol again. What good is a partner who lets the bad guys escape?

"Robin," was breathed low from just behind him. He shuffled around to face the speaker reluctantly, keeping his head bowed in shame.

"…Yes, Batman?" his voice trembled slightly. Please. Please, yell at me all you want, just…just don't sound disappointed. I hate it when you sound disappointed…

"Explain what happened this evening." He already knew, of course, but he wanted the child to figure out for himself what the problem had been. He'll never learn to self-correct if he can't pick up on his own mistakes. This is an important lesson, he reminded himself as a pair of tears suddenly glistened on the flushed cheeks in front of him. …Even if it is a cruel one for someone as sensitive as he is.

"I…I'm sorry," he murmured, hands balling at his sides as his lower lip tucked itself between his teeth.

"…That doesn't answer the question," he pointed out in a voice that almost had a soft edge to it.

"I ruined it," Dick whispered, his face now all but parallel to the ground. "You did all that work to find Standish, and I…I let him slip away." Don't cry. Don't cry, it will only make it worse. I already let him down once today, if I cry in costume he'll just feel like I'm even more of a failure… It was a Herculean task for the ten-year-old to restrain his sobs, but he managed it through sheer force of will. I don't want to be a failure, Bruce. I want…I want to be like you.

"…Correct. Go change and think about what you could have done better." Go quickly, before you can't control yourself any more, the caped man recognized the huge amounts of effort that were being put into avoiding a total breakdown. I don't want to see that. It will only make me want to hit people, and there's no one around to serve as a punching bag. Training equipment just doesn't serve, not when Robin pouts.

"…Okay," he nodded, then moved away towards the showers. I don't want to take my uniform off, though, he protested miserably to himself. I'm too afraid that you won't let me put it on again…

Batman watched him go, then grimaced as the emergency line rang. Damn it, Gordon, I've been out of the city for thirty minutes, and you're calling already? Why do you even have police officers if they can't manage for half an hour without me? "…What?" Two minutes passed as he listened to the harried request on the other end of the line. "Mm. Fine. I'm on my way." With that, he hung up and turned to follow Dick. This isn't the time for this, not when there's coaching to be done, but…I'll talk to him in the morning. No one will die if we push our discussion off for a few hours; the situation in town, on the other hand, requires immediate attention. "…I'm leaving," he announced when he spotted the half-changed boy.

His tunic lay on the floor and his arms were held out in front of him by his partially-on pajama shirt, but he whipped around anyway, eyes wide and wet. "…Leaving?"

"The Commissioner called," was explained brusquely.

"Do…do you want…I mean, I could…" he trailed off hopefully. If he takes me with him, I'll know he's not all that upset, after all. I know I did everything all wrong, but…maybe he'll forgive me?

"No. Go to bed. And keep thinking about what happened earlier."

…Oh. So he is mad. Well, I guess I should have known that, Dick sighed to himself when he was alone again. I mean…it's Batman. Forgiveness isn't exactly his M.O. Out in the main cave, the Batmobile door slammed. A minute later the child that had been left behind shucked off the last piece of his costume, dropped it onto the pile, and then sat heavily on a bench and buried his face in his hands. …He's never gonna let me back out with him, he just knew, the certainty repeating itself in his head as he finally let his tears come.

It had started as a complex case with a simple-sounding endgame. Batman had been tracking a ring of human traffickers for weeks, but they were clever, never using the same location twice and shuffling different kidnappers in and out of the city so frequently that it was difficult to hunt them down for interrogation. It had frustrated the man to no end, particularly as more victims vanished from the streets every day. When people started being taken from secured buildings and other locations where they should have been safe from such things, Bruce had laid down the law, forbidding Dick to leave the house without the direct supervision or either himself or Alfred. Even just playing outside was verboten; while the Manor was almost as extensively protected as the cave was, he wasn't taking any chances.

Then, completely out of the blue, there had been a breakthrough. A mid-week patrol had included a confrontation with two petty thieves enacting a mugging on an elderly woman. She had been frightened, as was to be expected, but whereas most muggees would have feared the gun in the crooks' hands her concern was a bit broader. "You aren't going to take me away to sell, are you?" she'd asked, her voice shaking wildly as the unarmed hood rifled through her purse.

Behind the dumpster he'd been preparing to charge out from, Batman had paused, listening. Magic words passed from the lips of one of the criminals after a moment of silence: "Nah. You're way older than the ones we usually take. You wouldn't be worth anything." Smirking mirthlessly as he heard exactly what he'd been hoping to, the black-clad man came around and flattened the pair. After sending the now terrified citizen on her way, he'd gone about the process of scaring information from the less unconscious of the thugs.

That interview had resulted in tonight. A large load of girls destined for the sex trade were supposed to leave town, and with their advanced notice there was a chance that Batman and Robin could save them. Equally as important, there was a rumor going around that the big boss, the man responsible for organizing the underground auctions at which his hostages were sold, would be present to inspect the merchandise prior to shipping. There was no way that such an opportunity could be passed up, and the crime fighters had stepped out with every reason to believe that they would be successful that evening.

Everything was going beautifully until the duo split up at a T in the secret corridors below a world-renowned restaurant. They'd already flattened several guards, one of whom had confirmed that yes, the man they were looking for was present somewhere deeper in the warren of hidden rooms. The goal was self-evident; get the ringleader and save those who had been ripped from their homes. When Robin peeked around a corner to find not only the man whose face his mentor had made him memorize but also ten women, bound together two-by-two and all wearing petrified looks, a wildcat grin had slipped across his lips. Perfect.

He stepped out to find three gun barrels leveled on him. Just as he leapt away, Standish screamed for his security detail not to shoot, fearing that the sale price of a woman bearing a fresh bullet wound would be lower than he wanted. Foolishly, the men obeyed, and in less than a minute all three had fallen under the boy's hit-and-fly blows. Your turn, you creep, he'd thought as he turned his attention to the focus of the raid.

The trafficker had been paying attention to what the goons of Gotham had had to say in recent months about the brightly colored vigilante who swiveled to face him as the last gunman thudded to the floor. Robin was tough, but he was more compassionate than Batman had ever dreamt of being, and finding himself cornered only by the former Standish concocted a speedy plan. Gambling on the idea that the boy would stop to give aid to a dying hostage before chasing after him, the man shoved his hand out to the side and struck one of the girls in the throat with as much strength as he could muster. Her windpipe half-crushed by the blow, she fell to her knees and began to choke. Knowing his cue when he heard it, Standish fled through the only door in the room that he didn't have to go through Robin to get to.

Faced with a dilemma that his training hadn't prepared him for, the youth hesitated for an instant. He'll get away if I don't go after him…but she can't breathe. If I take care of him first, she could be dead by the time I get back, and Batman's…who knows where Batman is, this is a big place. We can find him again if we have to, but…she'd already been through a lot. I don't want him to escape, but I want her to die even less. Decision made, he moved to where the wild-eyed slave was clawing at her bruised skin. …I don't know, this looks bad…maybe if she lays down, like on her side? "Here," he tried to guide her to the floor. She resisted at first, clearly frightened of his intentions despite the fact that he was obviously a child, but when the woman she was chained to began insisting as well she obeyed. Slowly, her breathing calmed, still ragged and strained but less desperate than it had been. "Just…just keep her like that. Someone will come to help, okay?"

With that, he leapt back to his feet and followed the outlaw through the second door. The space beyond was a narrow staircase that led upwards and featured another portal at the top. Dashing through, he found himself in a back parking lot surrounded by a high fence. He was just in time to see a pair of taillights, the vehicle they were attached to unidentifiable in the darkness, turn onto the street and speed away. …Crap!

Even if he grappled up to the nearest rooftop and began to give chase, he knew there was no way he would be able to catch them. Provided that he was even able to keep up, without knowing what the car looked like he wouldn't be able to identify it from above, and he'd have to move out of sight of it frequently in order to cross the buildings. …I lost him. He got away. "Batman," he flicked on his radio.

"…Report."

"I found ten hostages with three guards and Standish. The guards are unconscious, and Standish hurt one of the prisoners. I chased him, but…I'm going back to them now, to tie up the ones I knocked out."

There was a moment of silence, and Robin knew that the elder vigilante was processing the very obvious gap in his relaying of events. He knows I let Standish escape. But…I didn't have a choice, his thoughts turned confused and pleading as grim disappointment transmitted itself through the airwaves. Now, with his decision being called into wordless question by his mentor, he felt far less certain that he'd done what he should have. I couldn't let her die! I know he could go on and hurt other people before we catch up to him again, but these people were hurt now, right here. Was…was I not supposed to help them? he'd wondered as he traipsed back down to the bound women.

That same unhappy inquiry ran through his mind again as he sat in the back of the cave, his eyes wet and raw. I…I guess I shouldn't have stopped to help, at least I think that's what he's going to say, but…how could I just walk by her? What if I hadn't gotten back in time, and she'd died? I…I don't know, Batman. I don't know what you want me to have done differently. I'm sorry…

It was too late for apologies, he knew; after all, their target had run off to who knew where, and if he fled Gotham entirely they might never get another opportunity to bring him to justice. The more Dick thought about the choice he'd made earlier that evening, the more certain he was that his logic had been flawed, and the more self-flagellating he became. He can't use me on missions like this if he can't trust me to make the right decisions without him, and…well, if he has to stick by me all the time to make sure I don't screw up, what good is it to even have me? His shoulders hunched forward. It's useless. I'm…I'm...

He couldn't quite finish the thought. Sighing, he climbed to his feet and prepared to head to the house. Before he could take the first step, however, he remembered the clothes scattered around him. …Oh. Well…they don't really need washed, I guess. I mean…if he won't let me out anymore, what's the point? I don't want to waste Alfred's time, too… His gaze flitted to the garbage can, and he shuddered. No. No, I can't do that, I…I just can't. And idea struck suddenly. That might work, though. At least he'd know that I already figured out that he can't use a Robin who screws up missions like I did tonight. Chewing on his lip, he picked up the garments from the floor, folding each one carefully before placing it in a stack on the bench. When everything was together, he picked up the entire bundle and carried it back out to the main cave. There was one spot that Bruce was guaranteed to visit upon his return, and as he placed his uniform beside the stand where the cowl resided Dick felt a little sob escape his lips. I don't want to give this back to you, but…it's better than having you take it away from me. With his task completed, he walked slowly towards the stairs to do what he'd been ordered to do, glancing back more than a few times on his way. …I'm sorry I didn't do good enough, Bruce. I wish…I wish I was as good as you are, but…I guess now I never will be.