Oh, I forgot to mention last chapter… If you recognise it… I don't own it.
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"Batman" & "Harry Potter"
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This one even has a Title! "The Green Eyed Bat"
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Robin, A.K.A. Richard 'Dick' Grayson, moved silently across the rooftops of his home city, Gotham. He paused perching on top of a parapet, to breathe in the night air.
It was early August and his patrol had been fairly quiet that night. Feeling the need for a walk he'd left his motorcycle back at the Batcave, having hitched a ride with Batman in the Batmoblie for the trip out into the city. He'd mainly been patrolling the back streets of Gotham, leaving the warehouse district for Batman. Not that the backstreets were any less dangerous, this was Gotham after all. Despite how the tourist board tried to advertise it as a suave and sophisticated city, with a university to rival most of the best in the country, a fashion centre that threatened Paris for its superiority, a shopping district that could rival many in New York for diversity, and a number of world famous museums. Robin knew the truth, Gotham was city where many people couldn't live, or understand why people would live there. Gotham was dirty, it was dangerous.
Not that Robin could imagine living anywhere else, once you'd lived in Gotham for a while it got into your blood. Gotham was the best and the worst sort of drug; it only hooked certain people. Those it hooked lived on the edge, and liked it there; some dared to wonder what was beyond the edge; a few even went past the edge. Gotham was like dancing on a razor blade, where the line between light and dark was not as clear as expected. Gotham was a city where the majority of the population knew the dangers of the world, and could anticipate them. Gotham did not just make people; it forged them into a bar of iron, if they let it.
Movement from below caught his eye, disrupting his contemplations; he looked down to see a small figure hobble down the alley, obviously wounded. Curious he dropped down, and approached the person, who was hiding behind some old bins.
Robin moved one of the old bins, and saw a shock of dark hair; carefully he squatted down to be level with the bundle of oversized clothes. From what he could make out, the child had his knees pulled up to his chest and had buried his head in the gap between his knees and chest.
"Hey," he said quietly; the figure didn't look up. "I'm Robin. What's your name?"
"Freak." A childish voice replied, scared and nervous
"That's not a name. What did your parents call you?"
"They're dead. Since I was one." The child replied, still not looking up
"Who do you live with?" Robin asked, fearing the worst. He couldn't be sure of the child's age, having not seen his face or his size, but he would be willing to bet that the kid wasn't over 7, if he had even reached that age. Surely no child could have been left on the streets that long; and if he had…
"My aunt and uncle." Came the answer, Robin relaxed slightly
"What do they call you?"
"Boy. Freak." The reply was almost emotionless
"Well…" Robin was appalled, who could call a child a freak? Instinctively picking up on the accent in the child's voice, he asked: "You're British. What did it say on your passport?"
The child moved his head, and looked a Robin with one bright green eye, the other still hidden by his knees. From what Robin could make out under the muck and grime on the child's face there were many bruises and what looked like infected cuts.
Slowly the boy opened his lips, licked them once, to moisten the cracked skin. His voice was almost a whisper, and filled with uncertainty.
"Harry. Harry James Potter."
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"Well, Harry." Robin said, putting one hand on the kid's shoulder, removing it immediately when he saw the kid flinch. "Shall we get you back to your relatives?"
"No!" Harry yelped, before cowering like a frightened puppy, his eye hidden again
"Why not?" Robin asked, shocked at the level of fear in both Harry's voice and actions
"You won't listen. No one cares about me." Harry mumbled
"I care. I won't take you if you don't want to go. I just want to know why." Robin's voice was quiet and soothing
"They hate me. They dumped me, eight days ago. The plane home left two days ago." Harry replied with no emotion in his voice
"It's okay," Robin replied, his arms twitching out to hug the frightened boy, before falling back to his sides, remembering the flinch "I won't take you back. Do you want to come and meet a friend of mine?"
"Will they send me back?" Harry asked,
"No, but she has food. And maybe a bath and a bed." Robin replied as he mentally planned his route to Leslie's hospital for the needy; Harry definitely was needy, and needed medical care.
"Promise?" Harry quavered, not knowing why he trusted this red and green clad, masked stranger.
"Promise." Robin confirmed, "Do you want a piggy back?"
"Can I?" the child's voice was full of wonder and amazement.
"Sure. Up you get." Robin reached out a hand to help Harry to his feet, but he did not take it, and instead scrambled up on his own.
Robin looked him up and down; Harry appeared to be about three or four, a bit younger than he had expected, but he had only been estimating. Harry was wearing clothes that barely appeared to stay on and were tatters, under the grime and the muck, faded, once bright, colours could be seen. Only one bright green eye peered out from this face, the other swollen and bruised, the eyelid fluttering constantly as it tried to open. Streaks of dried blood ran along his arms and matted his hair. But it was the child's expression that tugged at his heart strings; Harry appeared to be preparing himself for disappointment.
Robin turned around and dropped to the floor
"On you hop." He said quietly, Harry needed no further encouragement.
As Robin stood up, he noticed that Harry barely weighed anything. They moved onto the rooftops and Robin started to move towards Leslie's. He could hear Harry's gasps of amazement as streets were leapt.
A noise in an alley came to Robin's finely tuned ears, immediately he halted. Looking down into the alley he could see a woman, having a night out on the town. Or at least that was what Robin believed judging by the woman's attire. She was wearing a skimpy red skin-tight dress, with matching high heeled shoes and a small red purse. Her golden hair was pulled up into a loose pony-tail.
However the five men approaching her were obviously not interested in her attire, although it may have had an influence in their decision to approach her, as it showed off her assets. The men had a disreputable air about them, men of the streets with no qualms or morals, the lowest of the low.
"Harry, could you get off my back for a moment?" Robin asked
"Why?" Harry asked, as he slid off
"There are some bad men down there, hurting a nice person. I'm going to stop it." Robin replied "I'll be back as soon as I've sorted it."
"Okay." Harry sat down on the building's edge, as Robin leapt off the top to land in-between the men and their prey.
"We wondered when you'd turn up." One of the men stated, before charging
As Robin struggled to hold his own against the five men, he realized that these were expert fighters, obviously well trained and at the top of their field, not the mere street thugs he had supposed them to be.
Once one was knocked unconscious things became easier, and each assailant fell to Robin's skills. Then he tied them all up.
He heard a whimpering sound coming from the end of the alley, noticing the woman cowering in the corner; he walked over to help her up.
"T…T…Thank you." She stammered, turning to pick up her purse
"You're welcome." Robin replied, as she turned to face him again
She sprayed something into his face, he started to cover his eyes and rub furiously at them, in a vain attempt to stop the smarting.
"NO!" Robin heard the single word screamed, as he fell to his knees
He collapsed sideways, his eyes starting to close, his hearing dimming. However before he lost consciousness he was certain that he saw a bundle of rags obscure his vision of the red high heels, and a shrill voice announce to the world:
"No! You don't hurt Mr Robin!"
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A splash of water hit Robin's face, effectively waking him. He opened his eyes and took in his surroundings. His hands were chained to the ceiling and his feet cuffed to the floor. The room was dark, but only for a moment as a bright light was shone directly into his face. As he flinched away, screwing up his eyes he realized that his mask was still present. This only confused him; if he hadn't been unmasked what did his captors want with him?
"Well, lady and gentlemen." A cultured and familiar voice pierced the silence "There is the Robin, whom you retrieved so wonderfully. You know your payment. Only one rule, nothing permanent. You have ten minutes."
Through his screwed up eyes, Robin could just make out six figures approaching him, one of whom was obviously female. He'd been set up, and fallen for it. That became much more obvious as they got closer, and he could compare their faces to those that he'd logged earlier.
As the first blow landed, he realized that he was not going to walk away from this, and it was going to hurt. These fighters wanted revenge for the beating he'd given them in the alley, and they had all the opportunity they required. They knew how to hurt, and weren't holding back.
Against all the odds, Robin was conscious when the ten minutes were up; he was slightly surprised at this achievement. Rough hands undid his shackles, while he started to catalogue his probable injuries, starting with two, no make that three, bust ribs.
"Put him with his companion. We'll leave the Bat to stew, before we present our demands." The cultured voice announced a smirk clearly present.
One black eye, Robin was dragged down a hall; a possible broken leg, he winced as a careless foot hit his leg and it cried out in pain; a split lip, he spat blood onto the floor as he was dragged round a corner; a cut arm, a changing grip caused the partially clotted wound to open again; perhaps a concussion, he was dragged down some stairs, with them going in and out of focus; numerous bruises, he was flung into a dark room.
He could just make out a small ragged figure in the room, as he tried to struggle to his feet. The figure ran towards the fallen hero, trying to support him, as he slumped to the floor. The door closed and locked.
Robin's eyes closed, but not before he saw a bright green eye, filled with tears stare into his own, from a distance of no more than a few inches.
He felt small gentle hands position him on the floor, unwilling to let go of his right hand. His wounds were stroked by almost insubstantial fingertips.
Lost in their soothing caress, Robin barely noticed the background noise fade into silence. The last thing he heard, before exhaustion claimed him, was a faint piping voice.
"Are you alright, Mr Robin, sir?"
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When Robin came to, he didn't open his eyes; instead he tried to assess his surroundings with his other senses. Apart from his own steady breathing, he could only hear one other set of lungs. So only one person in the room.
He was lying on a hard, rough stone floor, but his head was positioned on some sort of pillow. And the one person in the room was right by his head.
Robin quickly rolled over putting his head firmly down on the person's shoulder. As his eyes snapped open the figure started to try and release itself from his firm grasp.
Upon seeing the figure, Robin immediately removed his hand
"I'm sorry, kid… I'm sorry Harry." He blustered, as Harry retreated to a corner, again curled up into a bundle. "I didn't mean to scare you..." there was no reaction
Robin rolled to his knees, his hand landing on the make-shift pillow. He identified it with a glance, Harry's t-shirt and jumper, almost pitiful rags. The room wasn't warm by any means, and with the cold stone everywhere, even Robin was starting to feel slightly chilly, despite it being the beginning of August. Robin was amazed; this boy had provided clothes for a pillow, even though the boy would be cold without them.
The memories of his wounds came flooding back, he looked himself over, but could see no trace of them; apart from the blood, cuts and rips adorning his costume, there was no proof that he had ever been hurt, not even so much as a bruise, or a drop of caked blood on his skin.
He picked up the t-shirt and crawled towards Harry's slender frame. No wonder the child was so light! Harry was skin and bones
"Hey." Robin said, quietly "Here's your top back." He held it out, "I didn't mean to startle you."
Harry looked up, and quickly claimed the proffered item. He slipped it over his head, for a second revealing scars and open wounds criss-crossing his chest.
"Come on, Harry, let's get out of here." Robin held out his hand for the younger boy to grasp.
For several seconds Harry stared at the extended limb. Then his gaze rose to Robin's hopeful and smiling face.
Slowly he moved his hand, and slipped it into Robin's. Robin could feel the tension in it, preparing for a quick withdrawal. Robin clasped the smaller hand and stood up, before helping up the scared boy.
Hand in hand, with Harry's terrified, but hopeful eyes on Robin, they crossed the cell to the door.
"How old are you, Harry?" Robin asked, trying to engage him in conversation, as he kneeled down to look at the lock
"Five." Was the quiet reply, causing Robin to do a double take; Harry did not look old enough to be five. Robin didn't let go of the child's hand though. He looked quickly at his watch, noticing that it read a quarter to three.
"I am so dead!" Robin muttered, he normally had to check in with Batman at least once an hour, preferably more often
"Sorry!" Harry yelped instantly, obviously scared, and trying to pull away from Robin
"What?" Robin was shocked "No. It's not your fault." He kept a firm hold of Harry's hand; as he reached for his lock-picks, but his belt was missing "Bother! I can't open the door."
"Let me." Harry said quietly; as Robin stared Harry placed his right hand over the keyhole, closed his eyes, and tensed up.
The door opened with a resounding click.
"How did you do that?" Robin asked, in amazement
"I just do it." Harry whispered, with a little shrug, while seemingly trying to cower.
"That was amazing. Come on. I just need to find my belt and comlink. Then we can blow this joint." Robin stated, putting the occurrence on his 'Strange Things Today' list.
The two boys moved silently though the halls, Robin still holding Harry's hand, but as they moved Robin began to feel Harry starting to hold his as well.
By chance, they ducked into the room, to avoid guards, which happened to contain Robin's belt and comlink. Letting go of Harry's hand, Robin put on his belt and inserted the comlink into his ear. Then he held out his hand for Harry again.
He noticed Harry's face change from almost expected disappointment to disbelieving amazement, at this simple act. Harry tentatively reached out, before latching onto Robin's hand as if he would never let go.
Now armed, Robin moved through the maze of corridors with more confidence, a birdarang held loosely in his left hand.
Soon they both stood near the exit to the lair, having miraculously met no opposition they couldn't avoid, by hiding in rooms.
However two guards sat posted on either side of the door, in a large warehouse style room, ready to challenge anyone attempting to enter or leave the building. Robin and Harry crouched down, behind packing crates, as close to the exit as they could get without being spotted.
"We just need to slip past them unnoticed." Robin murmured to Harry, as quietly as possible "If only we had a distraction."
Harry nodded, his body tensing again, eyes closed in concentration.
A large crash came from the back of the room; both guards leapt to their feet and charged off to the back of the room to investigate.
Robin needed no further bidding, with his left hand he swept Harry into his arms and bolted for the door. He was out, into an alleyway before the guards had reacted to his presence.
Once outside, he started to ascend a fire escape with his load. But the guards weren't far behind; Robin was forced to halt, in order to prevent attracting any attention.
"Don't move!" he whispered to Harry, who was currently looking shocked, scared and amazed "They mustn't spot us."
Again Harry nodded, again he tensed, again he closed his eyes in concentration. A cat jumped down onto the section of the fire-escape that Robin was crouched on, knocking some tin cans and bottles over.
The guards looked up, shinning torches, removed from their belts directly at Robin. Robin tensed ready to run, but the guard's gazes slid over Robin and his charge, then the guards shrugged moving back into the building.
"The wind must have blown the door open." One announced the other nodding in agreement.
Robin just stared; another item for his list he mentally noted. He readjusted his grip on Harry, as the young boy went limp in his arms. Cradling Harry like a baby, Robin ran over the roof tops, aiming straight at Leslie's hospital.
"Robin! Come in!" Batman's voice came over the comlink; Robin winced, Batman was not happy.
"Robin here."
"Where have you been?" Batman demanded "You haven't contacted me for two hours!"
"Can't talk. Going to Leslie's." Robin replied, keeping his answers short, so as not to carry Harry with only one hand for too long (answering the comlink required the use of one hand).
"Are you okay?" Batman's voice was slightly worried
"Fine! See you later." Robin cut contact.
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Robin pushed the door into Leslie's hospital open with his foot and moved in.
"Leslie!" he yelled, holding Harry close
"What is it?" Leslie asked, before realizing the identity of the intruder "Robin! Are you okay?" she was staring at the blood and rips adorning Robin's costume.
"I'm fine." Robin was terse
"But the blood!" she lead him into one of the more out-of-the-way consultation rooms
"I don't have any blood on my skin." Robin place Harry down on the bed, and looked at his arms. "Apart from what Harry just added."
"Harry?"
"The kid." Robin almost shouted "He needs medical care. He has probable infected wounds, and a duff leg. He was limping earlier." Robin removed his cape, rolling it up as a pillow for Harry.
"Why did you do that?" Leslie asked, wetting a cloth
"He did the same for me. Only he used his jumper and t-shirt. I left the jumper behind; it wouldn't have kept him warm." Robin quickly claimed the cloth, as Leslie started to prepare bandages.
Robin started to gently wipe away the dirt from Harry's face. As the boy flinched, Robin gently stroked the child's hair. Caked blood and mud fell away revealing a bruised and cut pale face. Robin moved onto Harry's arms, while Leslie cut the clothes off the thin form, noticing as the she did the lack of footwear.
Before long Harry's wound were on display, free from dirt and blood. Robin rubbed antiseptic onto the wounds, while Leslie bandaged the more severe ones. Robin then cut the matted hair away from Harry's head.
"I can't be sure, but his right ankle is sprained, bruised or broken. Either way it's well on its way to being healed. So I'll just bandage it." Leslie stated picking up another bandage.
Fifteen to twenty minutes after Harry had been brought in, his right ankle and torso were bandaged, leaving only the relatively minor cuts open to the air.
Robin pulled a blanket over Harry's still form, still shocked at the extent of the wounds and scars decorating Harry's body.
"Someone really did a number on him." Leslie commented, putting her equipment away "What is he anyway? Another cape?" she inquired disdainfully
"No. Just a kid. A civilian. An innocent. Abandoned on the street." Robin replied, pulling a seat up to Harry's head. Not quite sure whether to be shocked or scared that she thought he'd get a child involved.
Gently Robin began to stroke Harry's cheek with one finger; his other arm lying over Harry's head protectively.
"Come on, Harry. Wake up. I just want to know you're okay. It's safe here." Robin murmured
A loud bang caused Robin to jerk his head up, before lowering it again. He knew what it was.
"Robin!" Batman's voice resounded down the halls
"In here!" Robin replied, his voice much quieter than his mentor's "And keep your voice down."
"Why?" the dark knight asked, entering the room, his voice quieter now,
"You'll scare Harry." Robin replied, not turning to face the protector of Gotham
"Harry? What happened?" Batman asked his apprentice "I thought you were hurt."
"Not me. The kid. Harry James Potter." Robin replied, before reporting what had occurred that night in the barest of details, not turning away from the prone figure on the bed.
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Harry began to stir, groaning slightly before freezing in fear, without even opening his eyes.
"Its okay, Greeneyes." Robin soothed, "It's me, Robin. No one's going to hurt you Greeneyes. You're safe. I'm here. I won't let anyone hurt you."
Harry opened his unbruised eye, and the other tried to open. Spotting a cowled, scowling figure and a white-coated woman, he instinctively curled up, hiding under the blanket. His frail form shook in fear, under Robin's gentle hand, now placed on the huddled child.
"Batman, you're scaring him. Stop frowning." Robin commented, glancing quickly at his teacher, before turning back to Harry. "They're not going to hurt you, Greeneyes. They're my friends. You're safe, Greeneyes. Trust me, Greeneyes." Robin slipped his hand under the blanket and continued to stroke Harry's cheek. "If anyone wants to hurt you, they'll have to go through me first. I swear."
"Will they…?" Harry's voice drifted out from the blanket
"No, they won't send you to your relatives, Greeneyes. I promise." Robin whispered
Harry pulled the blanket down, uncovering his head.
"Promise?" he asked, a bright green eye penetrating Robin's mask. The eye was full of hope, but also of sadness from broken promises, made a thousand times before
"Promise." Robin confirmed, secretly wishing that he could do something about the fear in the young boy's eye
Harry didn't uncurl, but his muscles did relax slightly
"Who was that man?" Harry asked; the question caused Robin to breathe slightly easier, Harry had not lost all his innocence, he still believed that adults knew everything
"What man?" Robin asked
"The man flipping a coin. The man with only half a face." Harry replied, his eye not blinking, not leaving Robin's face for a moment "He put me in that room you were thrown in." Harry's voice was quiet
"Two-Face." Robin answered, slightly shocked; Harry was a child, he shouldn't have had to see the ugly side of the world yet, let alone enough of it to be so blasé about describing it.
"Why didn't you say this earlier?" Batman asked, his voice low, almost threatening
"Sorry!" Harry whimpered, hurriedly, his whole body tensing again, eyes tightly shut
"It's not your fault, Greeneyes." Robin tried to calm the frightened boy "You didn't know, that he would want to know. Come on. It's okay. No one's going to hurt you, my Greeneyes."
Harry relaxed slowly, his breathing deepened. Robin continued to murmur, his gentle comments calming the frightened boy, as the younger boy drifted into sleep. Robin couldn't have told anyone later just when he had started to lapse into Romany, it was only when Batman pointed it out afterwards that he realized that he had made the switch.
A firm, but gentle hand was laid on Robin's shoulder; he turned and looked up into Batman's cowl.
"You care for him, don't you?" Batman asked
"Yeah, he's lost everything, and has no one to help him. No one cares, so he trusts no one." Robin sighed
"You care. He trusts you" Batman stated, half a smile on his face
"What do I do with him?" Leslie asked, walking forward, distinctly upset "He's only a child. I have no legal right to keep him here. He should be sent back to his family. I'm sure they are missing him. He should be with those who have legal claim on him."
"No!" Robin almost shouted, only the presence of Harry prevented him from fully expressing his anger at the statement
"Look after him." Batman replied "I know just the person to take him in. It won't take very long to sort. And everything will be legal."
"How long?" Leslie asked "He can't stay here more than a day; otherwise I have to tell the authorities. Then he'll go into their care."
"He should be off your hands by this time, tomorrow." Batman replied, "Come on, Robin, we have to go and talk to my friend. This should be sorted out as quickly as possible. For the child's sake."
Reluctantly Robin got up, running his fingers through Harry's hair, and stroking his cheek one last time; before following Batman to the Batmobile, leaving his cape behind. As Batman drove off, Robin finally asked:
"Who's your friend?"
"Bruce Wayne. He has a ward, who I think will get on very well with your little 'Greeneyes'." Batman replied, watching out of the corner of his eyes as Robin broke into a huge smile. Batman was often reported as being heartless, but the reputation was ill-deserved. Some of the generosity that his alter-ego was famed for spilled into his life.
"But what about the 'Night Job'?" Robin asked,
"Harry won't tell." Batman replied firmly, "He distrusts most people. And wouldn't dream of betraying you."
"Thanks." Robin replied, lying back in the car seat.
"We'll sort Two-Face out tomorrow." Batman stated, as his apprentice started to fall asleep.
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Harry woke at his normal time, about six o'clock, but sheer exhaustion sent him back to sleep before he could take in his surroundings or even whimper.
At nine o'clock he woke up, and panicked. He didn't recognise anything. The room was white, and smelt of the bleach Aunt Petunia had kept under the sink. He remembered the smell well, for as long as he could remember he had been using it to clean the bathrooms and kitchen. Curling up into a bundle, he found himself hugging the makeshift pillow; burying his face in it he breathed in the comforting scent of a person, who had, if only for a little while, been kind to him. Trying to drown the smell of the room out. Trying to deny the bad memories that the bleach brought back.
Memories of his blood mixing with the bleach on the floor; memories of the stinging sensation as the bleach was poured over his wounds, in order to teach him not to bleed on the clean floor; memories of watching the rest of his family eat, while he scrubbed the floor till it shone; and out of the dark mists of time, a vague memory of being told to drink it once, or did he chose to drink it? He couldn't quite remember. What he could remember was cleaning up the mess he made afterwards, with more bleach, and feeling sick to the bottom of his stomach at the smell.
The door opened, Harry didn't move, clinging onto the cape as if it could protect him from the rest of the world. Extra weight fell on the blanket covering him,
"There's some clothes for you. Better get dressed." A firm, no-nonsense voice rang out, not unkindly, but Harry had learnt one lesson in the long years he had spent in his relative's care: don't trust adults, they lie and they hurt. This may have been a generalization, but the only two adults he had had regular contact with, his aunt and uncle, often beat him. The only other adults he had met, and spoken with in private, in secret, they had always promised not to tell anyone anything he told them, but he was always punished for it. His guardians had always known what he had said. Anything they had not liked, he had paid for; and he had paid for just speaking as well. Talking to adults meant pain, so it was better not to do so.
Robin didn't count, Harry was sure of that. Robin was…, Harry thought for a moment, trying to dredge up a correct description…kind, and … not an adult. But he was gone. Harry knew that in the whole world there was only one person he could rely on…himself.
The door had closed, but Harry didn't uncurl; instead he waited for a few minutes, before moving slightly. There was no reaction, no noise apart from the background noise of cars and distant conversations. He waited another few minutes, before uncovering his head, and scanning the room.
No one was there; quickly Harry rolled out of the bed, and picked up the left clothing. It was nothing fancy: a pair of light blue trousers; a yellow, slightly grass-stained t-shirt; a pair of bright blue sandals; a navy blue jumper; and knickers.
He wasted no time in getting dressed, working carefully around his bandages and other wounds, sliding into the softness of the clothes, the gentle texture against his skin. With the sandals on his feet, although they were a bit large, he felt, if not safer, then more secure. He could run now and never stop. No one could hurt him. He could escape and never come back.
He grabbed the cape, and sat on the bed holding it as tightly as he could, letting the lingering scent of Robin reassure and comfort him.
The door opened, and he jerked to look, as a white-coated, slightly familiar, woman walked in, carrying a tray. On the tray was a bowl of porridge, a glass of orange juice and a spoon.
"Here's your breakfast, Harry." The woman said, placing the tray on a table. Harry placed her; she had been there last night, with the dark clothed man. "Best eat it all up. I don't know when lunch will be. You'll be going to your new home today."
She walked out the room, shutting the door behind her. Harry had frozen on the bed, as his thought processes went on holiday. Relying on his instincts and habits he walked to the food, quickly devouring it. As he drank the orange juice he began to feel refreshed and reinvigorated.
Picking up the cape, his thinking ability returned to him. He had to escape. He was an orphan. No one wanted and orphan. Living on the streets was hard, but he could cope. On the streets on one noticed him. If he wasn't noticed, he couldn't be hurt. It didn't matter to him if the new home was with the Dursley's or not. He would not be going, if he could help it.
Quietly he made the cape into a small bundle, trying hard to alert anyone of his intentions. Reaching up the door handle, he pulled it down and pushed the door lightly. The door didn't budge, it had to be locked.
For a moment Harry thought about using his 'trick', but decided against it. Ever since he'd discovered his 'abilities' he'd tried to gain control of them. But he'd always kept them secret. Showing Robin might have been a mistake, but Robin had been kind, and hadn't called him a freak.
Having decided that using his 'trick' would attract unwanted attention, he looked for alternatives.
The only window in the room, looked big enough for him to squeeze through, it was also open. However it was too high up for him to reach, even if he clambered onto the work-surface.
No other exits, but there was a different solution.
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At about half eleven, Leslie was walking past the consulting room that she had put Harry in, when she heard a loud bang. Immediately she tried to enter, but realized that the door was locked. Inwardly she cursed; she normally locked her consulting room and must have done so when she had last left, on instinct. She had never meant to lock the young boy up.
Fumbling for her keys, she unlocked the door and entered.
Harry was missing, the chair was lying on the floor, in such a position that it must have fallen off the worktop. Leslie ran out of the room, the door banging after her, as she ran to catch Harry outside, before he got too far down the street.
Meanwhile Harry slipped out from one of the cupboards holding a length of thread, which he'd found in a drawer. The trick was simplicity itself, tying the thread onto the chair, so that it would fall off the worktop when tugged, had only taken a few moments. Then all he had had to do was wait, until someone walked past the room. It had taken a few goes, but worked in the end.
Harry scampered over to the door, opening it he slipped out. Immediately he ran down a corridor, and promptly got lost. His pace changed from an all out run, to a crawl, often interrupted by spates of hiding in various rooms and cupboards. Progress was slow, and by the end of an hour he had still not got out of the building. This was probably due to the fact that he was often forced to reverse direction to avoid people, as well as the maze of corridors.
While he was hiding in a small storage room, from some passing people, the door got flung open, allowing a large, burly man to enter.
"What chu doing?" the man slurred, grabbing Harry's arms. Harry tried to turn his head away from the man's alcohol laden breath. He struggled desperately, trying to get free, but his attempts were ineffectual, especially when the man picked him up.
Leslie came across the obviously drunk man, carting the terrified boy down her hospital corridors.
"Put him down." She ordered, her voice clipped and tense, "and then leave. You're not hurt."
"But you're pretty." The man slurred "He's pretty. I want him. He's mine."
"No." Leslie moved forward, and with movement proving years of experience, removed Harry from his arms "Go away, Simon! You don't need my help. Go home."
Obediently Simon started to navigate his way out of the hospital; while Leslie turned to Harry, who was now curled up against the wall, between two chairs.
"Where have you been?" she demanded, walking towards the child "I've been worried! Don't run off, again." She grabbed Harry by his arm, roughly pulling him to his feet. Dragging him down the corridors to her office, she was oblivious of Harry's terrified expression and the tension in his whole body.
Once in her office, she placed Harry in a quiet corner, presenting him with a cheese and ham sandwich and a bottle of water. Before she sat at her desk doing the necessary paperwork to keep the hospital running.
Harry quietly ate the sandwich and drank the water. Then he curled up into his normal pose, waiting for a chance to escape. He now knew a route out, the office was just across a large room from the exit; inwardly he could almost smell the scent of freedom, feel the street under his feet.
Escape was not to be, about three quarters of an hour later, a well dressed man entered the office. After a few quiet words with Leslie, which Harry could not hear as much as he strained his ears, she signed some documents, and motioned to Harry in the corner. Harry curled up tighter, hiding his eyes.
Nothing happened; no sounds stuck out from the background of traffic, footsteps and muted conversation.
Uncurling slightly, Harry found himself looking into a pair of bright, sparkling blue eyes, with only a few inches distance between him and their owner. Instinctively he curled up again.
"Its okay, Harry." The man's voice was quiet "I'm not going to hurt you. My name's Bruce."
Again Harry uncurled, this time taking in the man's features. Bruce was kneeling down, but would be quite tall when standing; black hair, blue eyes and a young, kind face.
"I'm going to be looking after you. Shall we go?" Bruce asked his voice still soft. Harry's response was a nervous nod
With flowing movements and grace Bruce rose to his feet, while Harry scrambled up. Bruce held out a hand for Harry to hold, but Harry did not take it.
Walking out of the office, Harry moved almost unnoticeably closer to Bruce, shying away from the crowd. He may not trust Bruce, but he was only one man, and had a reassuring presence.
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In the street, Bruce placed a hand on Harry's nearest shoulder, moving him towards a black car. Leaning on the car was a tall youth, with black hair and cheerful blue eyes. Spotting Bruce, the youth's face broke into an even wider smile than it had been a moment before.
Bruce removed his hand from Harry's tense body,
"Harry, this is Richard." He motioned to the seventeen year old
"Call me Dick." Dick said opening the back door of the car, motioning Harry inside, before following himself.
Bruce started driving back to the mansion, keeping half an ear on the conversation in the back. It soon became obvious that it was all one-sided, with no likelihood of change in the near future.
It took about one hour and forty minutes to get back to the gates of Wayne Mansion, and in that time Harry had said so few words that Dick could hand them on his hands.
Harry stared out the window, occasionally turning to look at the other two occupants of the car. Spotting the house he caught his breath in amazement.
"Come on, Harry. I'll show you to your room." Dick said, jumping out of the car, once it was at the front door. Harry followed, his movements slow, his head low, his body tense. Bruce took the car round to the garage, thanking his stars that Alfred was on his day off. If Harry was this skittish and shy with only two strangers around, three might have been an overload.
Dick seemed to bounce up the stairs to Harry's room, while Harry followed. Dick noticed that Harry's movements produced nearly no sound, being almost as silent as the bats that Bruce emulated.
"This is your room." Dick said, opening a door, "Mine's opposite."
Harry stepped through the doorway, turning so as to take in all of the room. It was painted a light blue, with darker carpet and curtains. The majority of the furniture was pine, consisting of desk, bed, bookshelves, mirror and drawers. The chair was office style in black leather, the wardrobe was built in. A door opened into a bathroom with white ceramic toilet, bath with shower and sink; the walls were a light green with white tiles.
"Mine?" Harry breathed in amazement, the room was bigger than Dudley's, twice over.
"Yes. Yours." Dick nodded, smiling at Harry's shock "Shall I leave you to get settled?"
"Please." Harry whispered,
"Okay, I'll be just across the hall, should you want me." Dick left, carefully closing the door behind him.
Again Harry looked around, then he sat on the bed, removing his jumper and next his t-shirt. Slowly he started to unwind bandages from around his chest.
Once a roll of bandages had been removed, Robin's cape fell away from the position Harry had placed it, for easy transport. Unrolling it, he folded it back up and placed it under the pale blue pillow, before putting the t-shirt back on, over his remaining bandages. He wasn't going to run from here for a while, first he needed to know how to get back to the city streets. He could survive there. He didn't know how to survive in the countryside
It wasn't that he didn't want to stay, he did, desperately; but why would someone rich want him? He'd been brought up to believe that he was nothing, but a freak, a worthless bug, a burden on whoever was kind enough to even offer him stale bread or water. Anyone this rich obviously had no time for a waste of space like him. He was a waste of air; he should have died in the car accident that killed his parents. However since he was alive he wanted to live for as long a possible, with as few injuries as possible. And that meant, judging from his own experience, relying on himself, and being known by no-one.
Drawing reassurance and confidence from his memory of Robin, he hadn't thought Harry was worthless, Harry opened his door, and went to explore the house; leaving Dick in his room.
Avoiding Bruce was easy, the man had entered a room that looked a lot like a small library, from what little Harry could see. Wandering around the corridors, Harry got lost in wonder, alternating from staring at paintings to marvelling at the furniture.
Finally Harry opened a door, looked round the room in awe, before entering with a half-smile on his face. He could and would stay in this room for a while, it was comforting.
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At half past four, Dick entered the study, throwing the door open with a bang
"He's gone!" Dick shouted
"What?!" Bruce was shocked "Why weren't you watching him?"
"I was giving him space and time to settle into his room."
"Could he have done a runner?" Bruce picked up the phone
"No." Dick shook his head firmly
"Why so sure?" Bruce put the phone down
"He left my cape, under his pillow."
"I didn't see him carrying it." Bruce frowned
"Nor did I. Judging from the bandages lying on the bed, he bound it to himself." Dick's voice was slightly amazed, and slightly proud, reminding Bruce of the feelings he had felt the time he had found his young ward in the Batcave investigating the Graysons' deaths.
"You sure?"
"No blood on the bandages? Those wounds of his would have leaked, for certain."
"He's smart." Bruce nodded
"Yeah. But he doesn't trust us." Dick sighed
"He trusts Robin." Bruce said with a smile, throwing Dick his mask
"I can tell? Now?" Dick held the mask, staring at it, amazed that his guardian would even consider letting the child know so quickly
"He needs to trust someone. And I'd rather it was one of us, than someone else. He's also smart enough to find out, if we don't tell him. And then he'll feel betrayed."
"Okay. I'll find him!" Dick ran off.
Smiling at the hurried exit of his protégé, Bruce brought up the security cameras on his computer, to make sure that Harry didn't leave the house. Loosing him outside could cause quite a problem, and take up some time finding him. He would have brought up the camera views inside the house, but they were programmed to only send their images to the Bat-computer.
Dick ran from room to room, flinging open doors, leaving them to bang shut when he left. Had Alfred been there he would have had a fit. Or at the very least given a mild spoken disapproval; mild unless you knew him.
Thinking of Alfred, it almost felt like he was back, there was a delicious scent of baking in the air. Following his nose, with the heart-felt agreement of his stomach (when Alfred had his day off, he and Bruce had to survive on sandwiches and soup) Dick finally arrived in the kitchen. A small black haired figure stood next to the oven, placing a baking tray on the hob.
"Harry!" Dick yelled, moments before the door hit the wall "There you are! I've been looking for you!"
"Sorry!" Harry whimpered, having retreated to a corner, curled up in his usual position, faster than Dick thought possible.
"Its okay, Greeneyes." Robin said, kneeling in front of the frightened child.
The term of endearment slowly sunk into Harry's consciousness. In amazement he raised his head, and found himself staring into the mask of Robin.
"Robin?"
"Yes, Greeneyes. It's me." Robin slowly removed his mask, "Robin is Dick. Dick is Robin."
Tentatively Harry reached out to Dick, who smiled and wrapped his arms firmly around Harry, enveloping him in the hug that he so desperately desired.
"I…think…I…love…you." Harry whispered, his words hesitant, flinching away, as if expecting pain
"Well, I think I love you, too." Dick replied, "I'd like time to find out. What about you?"
"Yes." Harry whispered
"So, you're staying here. If that's okay?" Dick stood up, still holding the little boy
"Yes." Harry murmured, his head tucked on Dick's shoulder "And if you don't?"
"I can't see that happening. But we won't throw you out."
"Thanks, Robin."
"Greeneyes, no one can know that I'm Robin. You can't tell anyone. When I wear the mask, call me Robin. When I don't, call me Dick. You understand?" Dick asked, realizing that he had to make the distinction clear to the young boy, now.
Harry nodded, wriggling and sliding from Dick's grasp, dropping lightly to the floor. Slipping quickly past Dick, he moved towards the hob. Quickly he relocated the biscuits on the tray onto an airing rack.
"Want a cookie?" he asked turning towards Dick, motioning to the numerous cookie laden racks.
"Don't mind if I do." Dick picked a random cookie and tasted it. It was amazing; the chocolate chips were nice and gooey, while the edge of the cookie was crisp, the inside was soft and spongy. "Wow! You made these?"
"Yes…" Harry replied tentatively
"They're wonderful! I can't cook at all! Let's take some to Bruce." Dick grabbed a plate, and started loading a selection of cookies onto it.
"Does Bruce…" Harry started nervously
"Know about the mask?" Dick held out his hand for Harry, holding the plate in his other hand. "Yes, of course. He'll explain everything. Let's go and see him."
Dick led Harry through the house, to Bruce's study. Bruce looked up as the boys entered a smile on his face.
"There you are. Where were you?" Bruce addressed Harry directly, rounding the desk
"Kitchen, sorry." Harry whispered
"He was cooking." Dick smiled, passing the plate to Harry, and nudging him forward.
"Want a cookie?" Harry's question was nervous
"Yes, please." Bruce leaned forward from his position perched on the edge of his desk, to claim one. He was preparing himself to disguise his disgust as he took a bite.
"He's good, isn't he?" Dick remarked, as the billionaire spluttered in shock.
"Amazing!" Bruce knelt down to Harry's level, "I can't make a salad." He confided
"Or boil water. Where did you learn?" Dick asked, also lowering himself to the same level
"'Orphans are brats, whose parents didn't want them. They must pay their guardians back.' I did the cleaning, gardening and as much of the cooking as I could manage. Aunt Petunia insisted on it." Harry replied, obviously quoting the first part.
Bruce started to steam, he didn't know who these people were, but they would pay. To tell a child that his parents didn't want him was despicable.
"That's not true, Harry." Bruce stated, trying to keep as much of the anger out of his voice as possible; "I'm an orphan, have been since I was eight. And my parents loved me very much."
"So am I," Dick added pulling the frightened boy into a hug "And my parents also loved me. I'm sure your parents loved you, too."
"He's not your dad?" Harry asked, his voice a mere whisper
"No," Dick replied, "My guardian, and yours."
Bruce stood up and made a decision,
"Harry, what I'm going to show you, you can't tell anyone." He told Harry, walking over to the bookcase. He leant a book forward and the Grandfather clock opened up, much to Harry's surprise, revealing a fireman's pole.
Quickly Bruce approached the pole and slid down,
"After you, Harry." Dick said standing up. Cautiously the younger boy approached the pole and slid down. Silently Dick counted to ten, before following, so as to avoid landing on him.
Dick found Harry staring round the cave, eyes wide in astonishment.
"Welcome to the Batcave, Greeneyes." Bruce announced.
"Watch your step. We wouldn't want you to fall." Dick added, smiling at Harry's face
"But…how?" the whisper echoed around the cavern
"Greeneyes…" Bruce knelt down to Harry's level, gently placing his hand on the child's shoulder, "A long time ago, I saw both my parent's killed. Shot by a criminal. When I grew up, I decided to make sure that no one would have to go through that if I could stop it. Now criminals are cowards and superstitious, so I decided to model myself on a bat, calling myself Batman. Then I went out and fought crime. No one can know what I do, or they'll attack me when I'm out of costume, or hurt my family."
"What does super-tic-ous mean?" Harry asked his body tense under Bruce's hand, but not trying to break free.
"It means that they believe in things that don't exist." Bruce explained, patiently
"Okay. I won't tell." Harry promised, solemnly.
"That's my Greeneyes." Dick stated, swinging Harry up, into a hug.
"Do you want a tour?" Bruce asked; Harry nodded shyly as he was set down. "Come on then." Bruce and Dick both held out their hands for Harry to take. Harry quickly took Dick's hand, before nervously reaching out to put his other hand in Bruce's.
Gently Bruce closed his hand around the much smaller hand, before leading Harry through the levels of the cave. They started at the lowest levels, showing the child their vehicles; next was the costume department and the museum of criminal artefacts; then there was the training area, complete with Dick's trapeze set and high wire, which of course Dick had to do a display on, much to Harry's wonder and partial fear, that Bruce tried to comfort to the best of his ability. Harry's eyes boggled as he was shown the armoury, nodding his head in obedience when he was told never to enter the room, without a 'Bat-adult' present.
Finally they showed Harry the lab with the Batcomputer,
"This computer can find anyone in the world." Bruce stated, "Who do you want to look up?" Dick crossed his fingers and started to pray that Harry would give the names that Bruce was fishing for.
Seated on Dick's lap, Harry closed his eyes in thought,
"Petunia and Vernon Dursley." He eventually said,
"Let's type that in. Do you want to type?" Bruce motioned to the keyboard, while Dick let out a deep breath in thanks.
After clambering off Dick's lap and moving closer to the keyboard, Harry began to type, slightly jerkily, but correctly. Bruce nodded encouragingly, his suspicions about Harry's reading and writing skills confirmed.
Quickly the giant computer searched through the internet, bringing up addresses and pictures for the couple.
"This them?" Bruce asked, pointing; Harry nodded, his eyes suddenly fearful
"You won't have to go back, Greeneyes." Dick said, "I promise."
"I just wanted to know, so that I can make sure they never try to claim you." Bruce added, trying to calm the young boy, "Take him upstairs, and see if you can heat the soup."
"Without blowing up the microwave?" Dick asked cheekily, standing up.
"I broke the microwave. I didn't blow it up. And I thought we agreed never to mention that incident again?" Bruce asked.
"You and Alfred did. I didn't agree to anything." Dick laughed, bending down to sweep Harry into his arms, before fleeing Bruce's mock anger.
Harry was tense at first, but during the lift ride up, started to relax.
"Did he…?" Harry's voice was hesitant
"Did he what?" Dick asked, stepping out of the lift and heading to the kitchen
"Break the microwave?"
"Oh, that! Yep! He put a can of soup in the microwave, without opening it. The microwave almost caught fire. Alfred's face when he came in and saw Bruce trying to put the minute amount of smoke out with a whole fire-extinguisher was a picture! I laughed for hours!" Dick broke into a huge grin at the memory.
"Who's Alfred?" Harry's voice was hesitant and nervous.
"Alfred's a friend. He lives here. You'll like him. He's like my Grandfather. And yours too, if you let him." Dick answered, trying to calm the kid, as he placed him on the kitchen worktop. Diving into a cupboard, Dick removed a can of chicken soup, and pulled open random drawers to find the can-opener
"Here." Dick turned to look downwards, to where Harry's voice came from. Harry, his face turned up, eyes starting to shine with happiness, held up a can-opener.
"Thanks." Dick claimed the item.
As Dick sorted out the supper, Harry appeared to sense what item would be needed next and would quickly locate the item, often knowing exactly where the item was before he started to search. It only took a little while for the meal to be ready. Seeing the comfort and assurance Harry found in the kitchen, Dick laid the old wooden table for three.
Down in the Batcave, Bruce was investigating the history, financial status, criminal records, social background and anything else he could find of the Dursleys. What he found was disturbing.
According to the records he could gain relatively easy access to, the Dursleys were comfortably well off. Well able to afford the raising costs of two children. However Child Services had several logged reports of suspected child abuse, all about Harry, none about his similarly aged cousin, Dudley. The reports were for all different reasons: unexplained injuries, ranging from bruises to broken limbs; old clothes; flinching from raised hands; not being seen for a week, and not saying where he had been; and other such indications of abuse. The odd thing was that none of the reports had gotten past a cursory inspection; most hadn't even got that far. Mainly the reports had been filed and ignored.
The most recent report, filed by the Dursleys, had stated that Harry had been taken to America to live with his father's brother, who had asked to take care of the boy. Given Harry's circumstances, Bruce confidently classified that as a lie.
As he walked into the kitchen, Dick looked up from his place at the table; Harry tensed up, a slice of bread half-way to his mouth,
"Anything left for me?" Bruce asked, noticing that Harry was barely able to reach the table, due to his small size.
"In the microwave." Dick tilted his head to indicate, as he scrapped up the last of the soup out of his own bowl.
Bruce quickly claimed the soup and sat down; he noticed Harry's slow relaxation, while he ate his supper.
A few cookies each provided a desert, after which Dick sent Harry upstairs to take a bath. Once that had been done, Dick tucked Harry into bed.
"I'll see you in the morning." Dick whispered, just before he turned out the light and shut the door behind him.
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Batman tossed Robin a small folder as he drove to Two-Face's hideout.
"What's this?" Robin asked
"As much info, as I could find on Greeneyes. Read it."
"Okay." Robin started to flick through, "Son of James Potter and Lily Potter, nee Evans. Only child. Parents died in a house fire, caused by … a gas leak. A lot of child welfare reports. None in depth." Robin looked up "They were hurting him." He announced, meaning the Dursleys
"Probably constantly." Batman agreed
"No placement forms. Shouldn't he have one?"
"Yes, unless he was found abandoned on their doorstep." Batman turned a corner, "And even then, they should have registered him."
Robin turned a few more pages of reports, before suddenly flicking back to the first page, a birth certificate.
"I don't believe it." He whispered
"What?"
"His birthday is the thirty first of July."
"So? That was a few days ago."
"Nine days ago. He told me yesterday that he'd been abandoned eight days ago… They abandoned him on his birthday." The last statement was barely a whisper
"He's safe now." Batman tried to calm his partner
"Yes. He is." Robin closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "Are we nearly there, yet?"
"Almost. We'll walk the last part."
Of course, to The Bat, a 'walk' meant building jumping, before a lighting fast raid on the lair. Robin took particular pleasure in taking out the six lackeys, who had so enjoyed beating him up the night before.
"I'm surprised your bird can still fly." Two-Face sneered, the only retaliation he could take, given the handcuffs. "My people did a thorough job on him."
"Takes more than that to keep me down." Robin quipped, while Batman used intimidating silence.
"So I see. And what about the boy? I found him so… amusing. He tried to bargain for your freedom, you know. Offered himself for you." The criminal smiled, as his off-handed comments struck deep. "So sweet. I decided to show him the treatment my enemies deserve. Such a bright child though. I hope he's not involved in your business normally."
"He's a civilian." Robin spat, furious
"The police will be here soon." Batman implied leaving to Robin, with his statement
"And what will I be charged with? I haven't done anything wrong." Two-Face smiled, "It's not like your Robin will press charges."
"You broke out from Arkham. And I'm sure if the police poke around here, they'll find something." Robin retaliated, indignant
"You organised the recent diamond heist." Batman slipped in, "There's evidence. They just couldn't find you."
Batman swept out of the building followed swiftly by Robin; leaving the bound villain in his hideout, awaiting the police. Once out of hearing range, Robin punched a wall in anger and frustration.
"The nerve! I hate to think what he actually said to Greeneyes! Man, I wanted to hit him!" Robin hissed
"But you didn't. That was right." Batman said his words seemingly scant of praise, but having more praise than Robin had heard for a while, "Now, we have patrol."
"Yes, sir!" Robin bounded up to the roof-tops and leapt away
All in all it was a profitable night, apart from Two-Face, the pair rounded up a small gun-smuggling ring, as well as a few robbers and muggers.
It was after midnight, before the two crime-fighters returned to the Batcave.
"Hey, Alfred!" Robin shouted, spotting the butler cleaning the medical area.
"Welcome back, Sirs. Master Robin, could you please head to the computer. There is something you need to sort."
"Sure thing!" Robin leapt up the stairs.
The computer screen was blank, so Robin turned to ask Alfred what it was that he needed to do, and then he spotted it.
"Okay, Alfred. Give me a minute to change." Robin smiled, quickly moving past the computer chair, in which Greeneyes was curled up, fast asleep.
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Earlier:
Alfred returned, just as Bruce was heading down to the cave.
"Hello, Alfred. Good day?"
"Very good, thank you Master Bruce. Dare I ask about the state of my kitchen?"
"Dick and I didn't destroy it… Oh, Alfred, we have a new member of the family. He's called Harry; although Dick calls him Greeneyes. He's five and in the blue bedroom. We're keeping him." The last sentence was said firmly
"But, Master Bruce, the…" Alfred panicked
"He knows. And he won't tell." Bruce started, before begging "I had to take him in Alfred. He's been abused and abandoned. I won't let it happen again."
"Very well, Master Bruce." Alfred sighed
"You'll like him." Bruce nodded eagerly his voice was almost childish "He's a good kid; just very shy. Only really trusts Dick."
"How did you find him?"
"Robin did… And he's not in a good condition. I've sorted out all the legal papers."
"Very good, sir."
"You'll see him tomorrow. See you later, Alfred."
"Good hunting, Master Bruce." Alfred watched as Bruce entered the cave, before heading to the kitchen to assess any damage.
It was several hours later, after Alfred had found his kitchen intact, if over-run by cookies, that he detected someone else. Looking up from the table, where he was enjoying a quiet Gin and Tonic, he noticed a small child cowering by the door. It was obvious that the boy hadn't expected to find him in there.
"Sorry!" the boy whimpered, instantly curling up, closing his eyes tight.
However Alfred had quickly spotted the boy's bright green eyes, before they were closed, and made the connection.
"Ah, you must be young master Harry." The butler started, getting up, and approaching the bundle.
The child opened his eyes, confusion spread across his face.
"You are 'Greeneyes'?" Alfred asked, trying to relieve the confusion, his heart warming to the small child.
Too scared to talk, the boy nodded.
"Then you are young master Harry." Alfred moved gently and slowly towards Harry. "Why are you up at this hour?"
"Sorry!" yelped Harry,
"There is nothing to be sorry about. Couldn't you sleep?" a shake provided a tentative answer, "Bad dreams then?" a nervous nod, "Want to talk about it? It helps." A definite shake, denied the request. "Well, I know just the thing for bad dreams… A glass of warm milk and chocolate chip cookies. I'll get you some." Alfred had dropped the title, seeing that Harry was nervous and unused to being treated with respect.
"Sorry!" Harry apologized again
"No need to be. Come on get up. The floor isn't particularly comfortable."
As Harry scrambled up, Alfred began to heat the milk
"Where's Dick?" Alfred jerked around, surprised at the question, as it contained no apology. "Sorry!" Ah, there it was.
"Don't worry about it. And Master Richard is out, at the moment. As is Master Bruce." Alfred noticed that Harry hung his head at this comment, "Though you may stay up to await their return." A definite smile spread over the young boy's face, tinged with doubt.
"Promise?" the voice quavered
"I promise. Now, Harry, why don't you carry this plate and I'll carry the milk? Then we can go to wait in a better place than the kitchen."
Harry nodded, picking up the plate of cookies. Alfred led the way, carrying a large glass of warm milk. Once down in the Bat-cave, having used the lift, Alfred headed to the computer, more specifically towards the large chair. Placing the milk down on a small table, Alfred relieved Harry of the cookies.
"Curl up in the chair." Alfred suggested softly, "The milk and cookies are yours. Enjoy."
Backing off, so that he couldn't be easily seen by the frightened child, Alfred watched as Harry nervously drank the milk, obviously relishing the taste. Carefully he put the empty glass down, before picking up a cookie. He'd barely finished the cookie, before he fell asleep.
Alfred found a blanket, and wrapped around Harry.
"Master Bruce was right." Alfred whispered to the small bundle, "You'll fit in very well here. Welcome home, young Master Greeneyes."
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Alfred had just finished his breakfast and was about to start preparing everyone else's for when they woke up, when the kitchen door opened. Standing in the doorway, looking almost as nervous as last night was Harry.
"Now why are you up this early, Master Harry?" Alfred asked, moving gently to Harry's side,
"Sorry!" Harry cringed
"I'm not telling you off," Alfred kept his voice calm and soothing, "Just asking. Was it another bad dream?" Harry shook his head and cowered away, as Alfred bent down to his level, "Is this when you normally get up?"
"Sorry!" Harry recoiled away
"It's okay." Alfred sighed slightly, "Do you normally get up at this time?" Alfred reached out and placed a kindly hand on Harry's shoulder, as Harry nervously nodded slightly. "Well then, as you're up, let's get you some breakfast."
Alfred led Harry to the table, before picking him up and placing him on a chair.
"Now then, do you want milk or juice?" Alfred asked, making a mental note to buy a booster seat,
"Milk, please." Harry replied quietly, tensing up as he did so.
"Milk it is then." Alfred poured a tall glass of milk, placing it in front of the child, "Now how does a bowl of cereal sound?"
"Good?" Harry's reply was cautious
"Well then, I'll make you a bowl. You just sit there."
Alfred busied himself around the kitchen a plan rising in his mind, as he made a steaming bowl of porridge with dried fruit in it. Harry's face was full of amazement as he started to eat.
"Who are you?" Harry asked once he had finished
"I am Alfred, Master Harry." Alfred replied, from where he sat at the table
"Sorry." Harry said, looking away from Alfred, obviously ashamed
"What for, sir?" Alfred asked, curious
"I'm not…"
"Now what, sir?"
"Master Harry." Harry stared at the table
Tenderly Alfred slipped his hand under Harry's chin and carefully raised the boy's head, until he was looking into bright green pools, welling up with tears
"Yes, you are. You are Harry. You are Greeneyes. You are Master Harry. You are Young Master Greeneyes. Everyone has different names, but it does not change who they are. I was taught to call people Master and Mistress, Sir and Lady. It is merely a title I use to refer to people."
"Why?" Alfred smiled, it was a nice fact to know that despite his relatives (Bruce had provided greater details of Harry's history once he had returned); Harry still had a child's curiosity.
"It's part of my job. I'm a butler, by training."
"Oh…" Harry looked depressed "I'm sorry!"
"What for, child?" Alfred was confused
"If you're a servant, then I'm not meant to be down here… Or am I a servant too?"
"How do you know about servants?"
"Aunt Petunia talks about them. I think I was hers." Harry was once again looking at the table top
"I was trained as a servant, but having known Master Bruce since he was a baby and raised him on my own since he was eight. I'm more of a kindly uncle to him. To Master Dick, I'm a grandfather."
"And to me?" Harry's voice seemed to be preparing for disappointment
"A grandfather, if you want me to be." Alfred was patient
Harry slid off the chair and moved to hug Alfred's legs. Alfred scooped Harry up, holding the boy protectively in his lap, as Harry's arms wrapped around him.
"Grandfather." Harry whispered his tiny frame started to shake as he began to sob.
Alfred started to comfort the crying child, smiling as he did so; he had not done this for a long time.
"It's okay Harry. I'm here. I'm not going anywhere, Greeneyes."
Slowly Harry calmed down, still seated on Alfred's lap; he began to drink a glass of orange juice, which Alfred had poured from the jug on the table.
"Grandfather…"
"Yes, Greeneyes?"
"Can I… tell you about my nightmare?"
"Of course. You can talk to me about anything." Alfred smiled, glad that he was breaking through Harry's barriers
"It was… a flash of green light, and laughter… But it's not good. The laughter is… bad… cruel. I know something bad has happened. Just I don't know what. Sometimes there's even a… scream before the laughter."
"You've had this dream before?" Alfred asked, worried
"Sorry!" Harry cowered
"I'm not blaming you. Just asking. I'm worried, that's all." Alfred made a mental note to work on self-confidence with Harry
"For as long as I can remember." Harry replied, before adding "It scares me."
"It's okay to be scared."
"Uncle Vernon says only girls get scared and only girls cry." Harry looked up at Alfred his eyes filled with honesty
"Well, he was wrong. Everyone gets scared and everyone cries, at some point."
"Really? Even Uncle Vernon?"
"Even him. Even Masters Bruce and Dick get scared and cry at times."
"Even you?"
"Yes, even me." Alfred smiled giving Harry a hug. "Come on, let's wash your face."
Tenderly Alfred cleaned Harry's face, wiping away the tear stains.
"Now, let's take a look at your wounds." Alfred said setting Harry on the table
The bandages removed, Alfred could see scars, bruises and healing wounds. What surprised him was the fact that they were partially healed already, and Harry's ankle was healed. The only remaining treatment required for Harry now was time.
"I think we can leave the bandages off, now." Alfred said, "But if you start bleeding, let me know."
"I will." Harry promised.
"You seem to heal quickly." Alfred commented, binning the bandages, while Harry put his t-shirt and right sandal back on.
"Sorry."
"Oh, it's not a bad thing. Just unusual."
"I always have." Harry shrugged slightly
"It's a good trait."
Harry slipped off the table, a semi-smile on his face. It seemed to be Harry's current facial default setting, which was better Alfred reflected than the 'fearful-run-and-hide' setting that Dick had described.
When Alfred heard a distant door slam shut, he closed his eyes for a brief second. In that second Harry had vanished from his immediate sight; but not too far a small patch of yellow and blue could be spotted behind the potato bins in one corner.
"What is the matter?" Alfred asked, kneeling down, and moving a bin out the way
"I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I'm sorry! Don't hit me! I'm sorry! I won't do it again! I promise! Please?" Harry begged, curled tightly up in the corner, shaking with fear, and crying slightly
"There's nothing to be scared of." Alfred tried to touch the boy, but stopped as Harry flinched at his light touch
"Someone's mad! …They'll hurt me!" Harry whispered
"No, they won't. I'll stop them." Alfred said, pulling Harry into a hug, ignoring the young child's cringing, "And no-one is angry."
"They slammed a door." Harry replied, disbelievingly, still not relaxing
"That was just Master Bruce going out for a run. He couldn't be bothered to close the door quietly."
"Really?" Harry's question was nervous, as he began to uncurl. Alfred made a mental note to inform both Bruce and Dick of Harry's assumption
"Yes, come on. I'll show you."
Alfred put out a hand, as Harry scrambled up, before accepting the hand nervously. Leading the young boy outside, Alfred pointed to Bruce.
"See, there's Master Bruce. He's doing his daily run."
Can I…?"
"Join him?" Alfred finished the question, "I don't see why not, he won't mind. Just be careful. Your ankle is still healing. If you get tired or feel in pain, stop. And see me, immediately. Do you understand?"
"Yes, sir." Harry nodded
"Don't call me sir. Now off you go."
Alfred smiled as Harry ran to join up with Bruce.
"Other billionaires collect rare artefacts, fine art, horses, cars; but you, sir, collect Waifs and Strays." Alfred sighed, before going back to the kitchen; he did need to sort breakfast out after all.
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I do know roughly where this should go. But I can't write it down. I don't know how to phrase it. But from what I do know, is that Harry does not become a Robin.
I also know the end of the story:
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Alfred picked up the post, in his usual manner he ruffled through them sorting them by person and judged importance. One of them he looked at twice, turning it over to look at the green wax seal on the back of the heavy parchment envelope. The seal consisted of a shield split by a party per cross, an animal in each quarter. Thinking back to his heraldry lessons, he couldn't remember any family with a shield containing a lion, snake, badger and eagle. Turning it back over, he read the address for the second time.
Mr. H. J. Potter,
The Blue Bedroom,
First Floor,
Wayne Manor,
Wayne Estate,
Gotham City,
New Jersey,
United States Of America
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Yes, this is a Plot Bunny with Sequel potential!
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Thank you for reading this.