TimeLord27: Thanks again for commenting! I love Crystal's development in the comics, and felt of all people she might be the one able to comfort and connect with him the most, since she understands some of the struggle he's going through (even if not to a full extent). Basically she's half-adopted him as her "son"/acting as the "mom" he never had growing up already. ='3
On that note... Happy Father's Day.
There was a time when I was alone
Nowhere to go and no place to call home
My only friend was the man in the moon
And even sometimes he would go away, too
-Ruth B, "Lost Boy"
Before.
"Batman, wait!"
Robin was too late; Batman had already charged ahead by ruthlessly breaking down the door to the house with the sole of his boot. A low-key villain calling himself "Cluemaster" (whom Robin had incidentally never heard much of until now compared to the likes of Riddler or Joker, having supposedly gone "straight" for a couple years – at least according to Batman) had led them on a lengthy chase, and they ended up pursuing him all the way out to a small neighborhood in the suburbs. As they infiltrated the dwelling, Robin hastily checked around to make sure no homeowners were present who could be caught in the fray – or worse, taken as collateral.
Fortunately the room was empty, aside from their glaringly orange-clad target in the middle of it, reaching for one of the plasti-glass pellets attached to the front of his costume. Batman had already anticipated the move though and launched forward faster than the other, lurching a blurred glove into his opponent's throat, which caused him to drop the canister as his body was slammed hard against the wall.
"You're under arrest for multiple counts of grand larceny, Cluemaster. Or should I say, Arthur Brown?"
With his other hand, he grasped at the bandana covering the lower half of the man's face, which had already come loose from the force of impact. He jerked the rest of the kerchief off to expose a snarl under the guise, the owner evidently infuriated by the idea his identity had been so easily discovered.
"Now, where's the money you stole?"
Arthur sneered.
"Why don't I give you a clue to its whereabouts, and you can figure it out yourself, since you're so smart?"
Batman growled as he grabbed his foe's collar, lifting high into the air, letting free-dangling feet flail frantically.
"I don't have time for these games. Either you tell me voluntarily, or I'll make you confess."
Robin was getting anxious by the aggressiveness in Batman's tone; making threats of violence wasn't anything out of the ordinary, but he'd been out of sorts all night, acting excessively and extremely hostile, leaping into enemy territory with heedless disregard to danger – to himself or those around him. Sans his usual sangfroid. He was starting to sound like that time Scarecrow dosed him with a gas that took away all his fear, resulting in Batman almost taking a henchman's life. It had taken all of Robin's strength to haul him back up after Batman cut the line…
The current captive seemed to be getting panicky too, as he quickly changed his attitude, appealing to sympathy instead.
"Listen, I've got a wife and kid. They're asleep upstairs. I just needed the cash to help support them. We're in a bit of a financial jam, y'see…"
Robin's conscience wavered, recalling the time they had to prevent a penniless man from holding up a drugstore in order to obtain medicine for his daughter, who was simply sick with a high fever. Of course this was theft on a much greater scale, but he still couldn't help having some lingering empathy – especially based on his own past experiences dealing with poverty.
"That's one of the hardest things about this job, Robin. Sometimes we have to stop someone from doing the wrong thing for the right reason."
"…Daddy?"
As if on cue, all three revolved towards the top of the staircase, where a young girl with golden curls – probably about his age – was standing in bare feet and violet nightgown, beholding the scene before her with baffled eyes, big and blue and broad.
"Darling, why don't you go back to bed?" Arthur choked out, his own eyes bulging as cheeks turned indigo as well. "You're just having a bad dream."
"Arthur? What's going on here? I heard a loud noise…"
Robin swallowed as a woman emerged from behind the adolescent, gripping the girl's shoulders as she drew her daughter in protectively, eyeing the pair of home intruders with fear and suspicion. The situation was steadily turning from bad to worse. He hurriedly bounded up the steps, trying to block at least the shorter one's view with his arms and cape, acting as both shield and shroud.
"Both of you should stay back…"
Batman's prey put on a pleading, pathetic look.
"Now now, you wouldn't hit a guy in front of his family, would you?"
While his quivering lips pouted, his pupils seemed to flash triumphant. Robin felt a sick chill in his stomach. Had he set this up just to take advantage of innocent citizens – and his provider status for them – as an alibi?
Whatever the reason, Batman wasn't falling for it. While he slowly lowered his fist, he continued to glower viciously at his victim.
"I'm still taking you in. The police will be here soon, they can interrogate you. And if you don't admit to them, well…" He leaned in close, crescent slivers narrowing. Intimidating. "They'll just have to call me."
With that, he twisted his prisoner around, pressing head harshly against partition again as he slapped a pair of handcuffs on. Robin sensed the two frightened females peering over his shoulders, crying and clinging to each other as sirens started to wail outside, and the junior one almost looked like she was about to join them. He thought about reaching out to try and comfort her, but a cold bark from Batman halted him.
"Let's go, Robin."
"But Batman-"
"Now."
He was already halfway out the side exit when he said this, and, after a moment's hesitation, Robin bit his lip and vaulted over the railing to race after him, cloak whisking out of sight just as officers began filing in. As they headed back towards the Batmobile parked in the shadows close by, Robin hissed his irritation.
"You know, there were a million other ways you could've handled that."
"I did what was necessary in order to get him to talk. The police should have an easier time of it now."
"Yeah, but did you have to do it while his wife and child were watching? This is exactly the reason Nightwing left you, remember?"
Batman blatantly ignored the bold declaration of disapproval as his pager began to beep: a message from Batgirl, requesting backup.
"Armed robbery in progress, escalated to a hostage situation over on the north side. We're needed."
"Did you even hear what I just said?"
Batman brusquely cut him off.
"We'll discuss this later, at home. Now get in the car."
Robin grumbled, but grudgingly obeyed.
They never did discuss it though. Concurring collectively, both Batman and Batgirl determined there were too many hired guns in the building, deeming it far too "risky" to bring Robin – the "kid" – along. …Plus it was a school night. So Batman swung swiftly by the manor on the way, dropping Robin – Tim – off unceremoniously at the front gate despite loud and adamant protests, where Alfred was waiting to pick him up and march him straight on inside to get changed and ready for dinner.
"And 'don't forget to do your homework','" Tim mimicked Bruce's reprimanding voice with a querulous whine as the vehicle sped off, leaving him in the dust. "God, he still treats me like such a child."
The butler patted his charge's back consolingly, ushering within.
"Come along, Master Timothy. There are cookies and cocoa waiting for you inside – after you finish with your studies, that is. We wouldn't want to spoil your appetite, now would we?"
Tim shot an exasperated expression at the patronizing statement, but acquiesced. Upon entering, he immediately tore off the mask and tossed it on the table in frustrated anger, flopping sullenly onto the couch without even bothering to remove the rest of the suit. Alfred tutted, but made no remark as he disappeared into the kitchen, promising food would be served shortly.
As Tim gazed at the fireplace, he stewed over Batman's earlier reckless – not to mention downright rude – behavior. How could he even be so cruel and insensitive? It wasn't just the bossing around that bugged him, but he was genuinely rather troubled by Bruce's mental state. …Truth be told, he had a guess as to the cause for callousness. He'd noticed a common trend in increasing indiscretion (and intractability) after their latest visit to Arkham, when they stopped by Two-Face's cell following another escape – and subsequent suicide attempt. Ever since he'd developed a third personality who judged himself guilty and sentenced to death for his sins, his condition had been gradually worsening. It was to the point he – and his coin – had to be kept under constant watch and isolated lockdown.
Tim was never really sure how to feel about Two-Face (in the same way his chest was always confused and ached a little whenever he faced Clayface). The man murdered his father; Tim supposed he should hate him for that. In addition, he'd even once mercilessly electrocuted Nightwing with a wire taser, forcing the senior superhero's heart to completely stop. …Had he not promptly administered CPR and literally brought his brother back from the brink of death, he might have lost another family member that day.
But, according to Dick, Bruce and Harvey had been good friends once – which explained why his guardian always bore a grieved semblance whenever they went up against Dent. …Tim tried to imagine what it must be like, to watch one's once close companion fight a losing battle against himself. Clearly it was taking a capricious toll on the old man's emotional and psychological well-being as well, making him far more mercurial and volatile – prone to violent vagaries.
Yet, even Tim recognized that didn't excuse him taking it out on others, especially when it interfered with their work. (Frankly that didn't seem to be the only thing distracting recently either, given Batman and Batgirl had been ditching him more and more often as of late, citing his "immaturity" as pretense. …But he didn't really want to think about that right now.) He was concerned about that girl as well. Screw Batman, he should've stayed to try and talk to her. At least give her some reassurance after witnessing such a harrowing event.
Making up his mind, he snatched his domino from the counter and was out the door (cautiously evading the security cameras he knew were watching overhead) just as Alfred came to call him for dinner. Upon finding the parlor empty, and after exhausting all other options of where the lad might have gone to within the mansion (including underground area), the caretaker finally murmured in alarm.
"…Oh dear."
…
It took Robin longer to get back by grapple alone, but eventually he made it to his destination. Descending on the rooftop from a nearby tree, he tiptoed towards a single annexed dormer window which jutted prominently from the tiles. Testing the lucarne's latch, it luckily wasn't locked and slid open with relative ease. Silently slipping in, he was greeted almost instantly by an unpredicted punch to the face.
As he was thrown flat onto the bed, survival instinct triggered to roll over and try to fight back, but his own fists arrested when he saw his assailant was the same girl from before, glaring at him with mistrust.
"Who are you?! Some kind of creepazoid stalker?"
"Whoa, whoa! It's me, Robin. You know, from before?"
She stared at him, realization dawning.
"Oh. …Sorry. I didn't know it was you."
The way she said it, she still didn't seem very impressed.
"…I'd hate to be someone you were expecting," Robin muttered, rubbing at his sore jaw.
She folded her arms firmly.
"So? What the heck are you doing here? Again?"
"I- I just wanted to check and see if you were okay, after… all that."
An eyebrow raised.
"And you thought coming in through the window was the best way to go about it?"
"…In hindsight that might not have been the best plan," he acknowledged, repentant. "Sorry. Being with him tends to rub off on you. I apologize if he scared you earlier. He's really not a bad guy."
She exhaled, letting her limbs down.
"No, my father is, right? …It's okay. I know who and what my dad is. He deserves to go to jail."
Robin cocked in confusion at this unanticipated acceptance.
"But… He's still your dad."
"Yeah, and I hate him." Her knuckles clenched, tightening. "He just wanted to use Mom and me to get away with his crimes. We're basically just tools, a means to an end for him. He's a total class-A jerk."
Robin blinked, unsure how to respond to that. He certainly hadn't been prepared for this outcome. An uncomfortable hush filled the chamber, which he idly noted details of as he glanced around nervously. He'd never actually been in a girl's room before, so he wasn't sure what to expect. He supposed the piles of stuffed animals and boy band posters were probably typical, though he was surprised to see some large prints of Superman lining the walls, and a bulletin board covered with newspaper clippings of Batman and Robin – mostly his predecessor – busting the Cluemaster's previous petty heists. She apparently wasn't kidding when she said she had it in for her father. (…The image felt almost eerily familiar, reminding of the days when he kept a similar chronicle in a corner of his own pops' apartment, much to the old man's displeasure.)
"…You've got weird taste for a girl," he mused aloud.
"And you've got weird fashion sense for a boy," she retorted, nose wrinkling.
"Hey, I didn't design the suit," he huffed defensively.
"And who did? Your mom?"
Robin winced a bit, but bit his tongue. "…Would you believe me if I said Batman?"
She sniffed. "I mean seriously, what's with that getup anyway? It's so bright, it makes you look like a clown."
Fed up with her criticism, he started to skulk back towards the outlet again.
"Look, I didn't come here just to be insulted."
A hand reached out to clasp his wrist, and he rotated to see her regarding him sincerely.
"Sorry, I was just joking. …You don't have to leave."
He gulped, blushing a little at the light touch. The last time a girl held his hand like this for so long, she'd followed with a…
"Um, okay." He rubbed the back of his neck uneasily, growing tense as she inclined forward and grinned – before passing him by to hop onto the sill instead, sticking out her tongue at him.
"Ladies first."
He whirled around in shock as she stepped out over the ledge.
"Hey, what do you think you're doing? That's dangerous, get back here."
"Relax, I do this all the time. Besides, you jump around rooftops every night, don't you?"
He impulsively climbed after her, keeping a careful eye on her footing, hovering close behind in case she fell. But, true to her word, she did seem to have practiced this pattern many times before, effortlessly picking her way over the slates to the top, where she plopped down and petted the spot next to her. Indicating invitation. Tentatively, he took it and traced her wondering sightline to the stars above.
"…You know, I used to dream I'd see the Batman someday. Drifting across the moon, dark against the night sky…" She hugged her knees to her breast. "This is the first time I've actually seen him in person. For a second, I almost thought he was a monster."
Robin remained quiet as she continued.
"But, my dad's the real monster. I know he's hurt a lot of people – myself and Mom included. He doesn't care about us at all."
"How come she doesn't just divorce him?"
"She can't afford a lawyer to kick him out. He still owns the mortgage on the house."
She smiled bitterly, drawing circles on the shingles.
"As a kid, I used to think about running away. Getting on a plane and going somewhere far, far away from here. Someplace exotic, where no one knows who I am or where I come from – like Africa. …But, I could never do that to my Mom. She'd be lonely if I left. Even though she has some… 'difficulties', I still love her."
She looked at Robin, who was still listening attentively. Patiently.
"Sorry," she mumbled in a slightly sheepish manner. "I'm just making you sit through my random rambling. I don't usually get a chance to talk to anyone about this, let alone someone my age. Having a lame, insane supercriminal for a dad isn't exactly something I can tell all my friends at school."
"It's all right. I wish there was more I could do to help…"
He replied, feeling as utterly useless – hopeless – as when he came across a bunch of homeless youths in his hunt for Annie after they'd gotten separated, the ragtag group of street rats sleeping together on a filthy mattress in an abandoned shelter; huddled under each other for warmth, sharing but one thin, dingy blanket between them. (…The kind of neglected kid he could've easily ended up as had he not happened to be so lucky, to be "chosen" – caught before he slipped through the cracks into faded obscurity and was overlooked – forgotten – by society.) There were some things punches and kicks just couldn't fix.
"You've already done more than enough, thanks. I'm grateful to you both for putting a stop to him. …Even if it's probably only temporary."
"There has to be something that can be done though."
"Really, you don't have to go out of your way or anything. Besides, why do you care so much anyway?"
He shrugged, surveying the distance. "Maybe it's because you kinda remind me of someone."
She scanned his wistful countenance, scrutinizing closely.
"…Was she cute?"
"What- no. I mean yes. I mean, uh-" Robin stammered, flushing red as he was abruptly taken aback by the unexpected inquiry. She giggled in snorting amusement at his oh-so-obvious reaction.
"Relax, Boy Wonder, I'm just teasing you."
He coughed, regaining composure.
"To be honest, that's not the only reason. My dad wasn't much of a prize either. …Although he can't compete with yours."
"Ehhh?" She gaped at him in astonished awe. "But he's so cool!"
"Huh?" He puzzled for a beat, then it clicked what she was talking about. "Oh, you think that Batman's- no, he's not my real dad. I'm not even sure I would even go so far as to call him much of a 'father figure' actually. He's more like a… mentor?"
It was her turn to listen as he ruminated, reflecting.
"He saved me though. Took me in when I had no place else to go. Gave me a second chance. I've… done things I'm not exactly proud of either. If he hadn't found me, I'd likely be dead or in jail myself right now."
Sensing a buzzing interruption from his waist – a warning summons from the butler no doubt – he consulted the timestamp in the corner of the display, and cringed upon calculating how much interval had elapsed in his absence.
"…Speaking of which, I should probably get back soon. Batman's gonna kill me once he finds out I'm gone without letting anyone know."
Her forehead creased with contriteness.
"You didn't have to go that far for me…"
"Hey, don't sweat it. It's the least I could do."
She looked reluctant to end the conversation though. He wondered if he was the first person she'd ever been this open to about her feelings. …After some thought, he fished around in a pocket and pulled out another spare backup communicator.
"Listen, don't tell anyone about this; Batman doesn't like me lending out tech. But if you ever need anything, you can get in touch with me on this. I'll come as soon as I can. …Only if it's an emergency though. He'll really give me an earful if he finds out I'm using our gadgets for personal stuff."
She looked down at the device in trepidation.
"Is it really okay for me to have this?"
"Yeah. It's no problem, don't worry. I know how to keep a secret. And I'll definitely stop by again sometime, so we can hang out some more if you want. Whaddya say?"
Her eyes lit up, and- without warning, she flung her arms around him in an appreciative hug (that very nearly knocked him off balance).
"…Thanks, Robin."
His hue embarrassed again, but he gently reciprocated the gesture.
"Hey, what are heroes for?"
After an awkwardly long minute, she propelled back from the embrace with a self-conscious laugh. Once the rapid beating in both their ribs had calmed down (and she'd surreptitiously wiped some tears from her face), she afforded him a somewhat odd look.
"…What's wrong?"
"Nothing, it's just… Calling you 'Robin' feels kinda weird. It's like a girl's name."
"Hey, it can be a boy's name too," he sulked in indignation. "Besides, at least it is a name."
She shook her head, concentrating intently on him as she contemplated. After a bit, she brightened with sudden brilliance.
"I know! I'll call you 'Peter' – since you came in through the window. …And 'cuz of the tights."
Robin blanched as she pointed playfully at his leggings.
"…I think I'd rather be called 'Robin'."
"Nope," she cheerfully announced. "You're 'Peter' to me now."
Robin sighed, but didn't object further to the nickname. It wasn't like he could tell her his real title.
"Fine. 'Peter' it is then. …Does that make you 'Wendy'?"
She smirked with a wink.
"If you want me to be."
He blinked, clearing his throat as he stood up, almost stumbling over his heels as he backed up in haste.
"Right. Well then. Wendy. …Guess I'll see you around?"
"Yeah. See ya."
"…'Kay, bye."
"'Kay, bye."
He waved as he fired his grapple into the branches and swung away, and she merrily returned the motion. Elated, Robin's spirit soared over heightening city structures back to the estate, performing as many flips and tricks as he could on the way. …Although come to think of it, he had failed to ask for her actual name. …Oh, well. There was always next time.
Rather than directly approach the porch or cave entrance, Robin thought about endeavoring to sneak back in through the second-story opening to his own bedroom, so he could pretend he'd been there all along. …Unfortunately, as soon as he'd made it inside and detached his façade, he bumped straight into a severely stern-looking Bruce towering over him.
"Where the devil have you been? We've been trying to contact you for the past hour. Barbara's out there searching all over for you right now. Meanwhile I've had to help Alfred double-check every secret room and passage in the manor. Do you know how long that takes?"
Tim merely shrugged.
"I went out for a stroll. Is that a crime?"
"In this house, it is. Do I need to start putting a tracer on your utility belt again?"
"No, sir," he squeaked meekly.
Bruce heaved a grunt.
"Just hurry up and go get changed, young man. Your dinner's cold already. Alfred made soup. Make sure you apologize to him too, he's been worried sick."
"Yeah yeah, I hear ya, old man."
"And did you finish your homework?"
Tim flinched. He knew there was something else he'd forgotten.
"You had better get to it if you want to come patrolling with us tomorrow night."
"I will."
Before he vanished into the privacy of his enormous closet (which, in his own private opinion, was way too overly spacious – though no one would certainly hear him complain), Tim paused, calling softly back over his shoulder.
"Bruce."
"What?"
"Thanks… for caring."
…
About a month later, a couple men dressed in black arrived at the Brown residence, carrying grim, serious auras and stiff briefcases containing various important-looking official documents. An obstinate Stephanie insisted on sitting down alongside her mother on the sofa as they discreetly disclosed the news she never once conceived she'd get to hear like this:
Her dad was dead.
Apparently he'd cut a deal while in prison, and became a part of something clandestinely known by a select few outside those in power as a "Suicide Squad". He'd perished while on a covert mission for the government, and – according to these strange men's confidential report – he'd died a "heroic sacrifice".
Stephanie didn't know how to react. What to feel. …How she was supposed to feel.
As she sat in her room, trying to write in her diary but coming up blank, her observation shifted to the window still left ajar each evening, through which a mild breeze blew. Opening her desk drawer, she retrieved the hidden miniature handset from the far back, tucked neatly behind all sorts of stationery. She had avoided using it up to now, afraid of coming off as an annoyance. …But she hadn't seen Robin at all since then. No one had. Based on what she'd gathered from growing gossip, he'd been fully MIA over the course of the past few weeks, and rumors were starting to spread. It was like his existence had been entirely erased, simply evaporated off the surface of the earth. …She was worried about him too.
She pushed the button, hands shaking in mounting apprehension as she elevated to her ear.
There was a long, low hum of crackling static, before someone (presumably) picked up at last.
"…"
"Hello?"
"…Who is this? How did you get access to this comm line?"
"I'm… a friend of Pet- Robin's. Is… he there?"
An extensive gap stretched.
"There is no more Robin."
The pronouncement was deep. Disturbing. Definite.
"Do not contact here again."
With a final click, the other end hung up.
She tried, repeatedly – desperately – to dial back – but the machine seemed to have been remotely disconnected. Slumping forward in defeat as she let go the last potential link – lifeline – she buried her face in her sleeves, and burst into sobs.
At length, she dried her sniffles and rose, dragging her feet to the wide frame. Casting one last look of longing out at the pitch gloom, she shut the pane. …Shutting out pain, and all the brief memories associated with it.
…
She never saw Robin again.
He sprinkled me in pixie dust and told me to believe
Believe in him and believe in me
Together we will fly away in a cloud of green
To your beautiful destiny
As we soared above the town that never loved me
I realized I finally had a family
I'll leave it to you, dear reader, to decide whether Tim was on his way to see Steph when "it" occurred. *flees*