Date: Fri, 29 Mar 2013 14:09:12 -0700
From: B.E. Kelley <hailcaesar2011@hotmail.com>
Subject: Gotham Prep Episode 6

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters in this story. They belong
to DC Comics. And also, if you are too young to read this, leave...
please. Or if this type of thing is illegal where you live then also
leave...please. This is a story involving homosexual, or rather gay, sex
and love. So if this offends or freaks you out, leave... please. This is
purely fiction, it doesn't imply anything about the character's mentioned
sexuality.

This story is a work of FICTION. The events described are my own invention.
Any similarities to actual events or persons are strictly coincidental. The
author retains the copyright, and any other rights, to this original story.
You may not publish it or any part of it without my explicit authorization.

Comments are always welcome at: hailcaesar2011@hotmail.com

Gotham Prep
Episode 6: Robins: Past, Present and Future.

It was two days before Christmas in Gotham City and despite his
complaining, Damian was enjoying the season. Until that morning, he'd spent
most of his Christmas break with Robbie and Colin.  Robbie left, earlier in
the day for Hawaii, with his dad.  They were spending the holiday on a
father son bonding trip.  Colin, at Damian's insistence, was staying at
Wayne Manor but he was so busy volunteering at the orphanage, that no one
saw him much, though Damian and Robbie had gone with him a few times.

With his friend and boyfriend either busy or out of town and Alfred busy
baking, Damian spent his time with Titus but by mid-afternoon, he'd grown
bored with his dog's lack of conversation.  He'd finished most of his
Christmas shopping a week ago but he still had to get something for his
father and jumped at the chance to go to the mall, when he'd been invited
by his brothers.  Dick left work early and swung by the house to collect
Tim and Damian, the older boys had the same problem, they needed a gift for
Bruce.  After much debate, they settled on an idea and that's how Damian
found himself waiting in line to see Santa for the first time in his life.

"I still don't understand what we're doing here," Damian huffed.

"How many times do I have to tell you, kiddo, gift giving is part of the
Christmas tradition," said Dick, for what felt like the hundredth time.

"Yes Grayson, I understand that, I finished most of my shopping a week ago,
though I've never felt the need to express my affections by distributing
trinkets before," said Damian.

"Ok, then what are you talking about?" Dick followed.

"I don't understand why we're waiting in line to see Satan and why I have
to sit on his lap," Damian complained.

"It's not Satan, doofus, its Santa Claus," Tim giggled.

"Right, Santa, I guess the red suit threw me," said Damian.

"It's just another tradition," said Dick, "you tell Santa what you want for
Christmas and have your picture taken, it makes a nice gift for the
parents, and you're sitting on his lap because you're the smallest."

"Yes, but that's my point, aren't we a little old for this?" said Damian.

"That's the point, it'll be cute," said Tim.

Damian thought it was a stupid tradition but he was going along with it
because it seemed to make his brothers happy.  They also knew his father
better than he did, if they thought this would be a good gift, he'd have to
trust them.  Damian was also happy to see Tim smiling so much, they're
relationship had been rocky from the beginning but after their adventure at
the opera, they'd talked things out and Damian was trying to be a better
brother.  They still picked and nagged at each other but without so much
venom and vitriol.  He was also struggling to decide if Tim was gay or not,
Robbie was convinced but Damian wasn't sure and he didn't want to bring it
up to the older boy and risk hurting his feelings.

Damian was growing more and more aware of people's feelings.  He'd been
trained from birth to see feelings as a weakness; if you felt for something
then your enemies could use it to hurt you.  He'd lived his life as an
emotionless drone, his mother was the only one that ever lavished him with
affection, but then he'd come to Gotham and found a family willing to
accept him, friends willing to put up with him and a boyfriend who shared
himself openly and gave him love. Damian was beginning to understand that
his feelings weren't a weakness but a strength, he knew that if his loved
ones were in danger, it wouldn't matter how wounded he was or how much he
hurt, nothing would stop him from coming to their aide.

Damian didn't have much time to think about the issue, before he knew it,
he and his brothers where called forward by a midget in an elf costume.
Santa was seated on an ornamental throne and Dick and Tim took positions
behind it, while Damian hopped up on Santa's lap.

"This some kind of joke or something?" asked Santa, the smell of gin on his
breath, "aren't you a little big for this?"

"Ah, very good Claus, I see you've deduced through your drunken fog that I
am, in fact, too old to be sitting on your lap," said Damian, "this is a
gift for our father, evidently it's cute you see."

"Right," Santa slurred, "let's get this over with."

"Indeed," Damian agreed, "wait a minute, what's this?"

When Santa turned his head to face the camera, Damian saw a piece of
elastic behind the man's ear, holding his beard in place.

"What's what?" said Santa.

"You fraud!" shouted Damian, as he pulled the beard from Santa's face.

"Jesus Damian what are you doing?" shouted Dick.

Throughout the line of children there rose a cacophony of boo's and cries.

"This man is an impostor!" said Damian.

"Gimme that!" Santa shouted as he struggled to pull his beard from Damian's
hands.

"Never, you bastard!" Damian shouted in reply.

Damian and Santa struggled over the beard in a vicious tug-o-war.  Tim
grabbed Damian from behind, Dick grabbed the beard and pulled it in a
different direction and all of them looked at the camera when the elf
shouted, "CHEESE."

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," Dick apologized, as he freed the beard and
handed it back to Santa, while Tim dragged Damian off his lap.

Santa took the beard and put it back on, he and his elves gave the Wayne
brothers looks of disgust, as they made their way off the stage.  The boys
kept their heads down as they passed through the throng of unhappy
children, some with tears streaming down their faces.

"Beware children, he's not Santa, don't tell him what you want for
Christmas, don't tell him anything," said Damian.

"Damian, shut up!" Dick scolded.

"I hate you," said one little boy.

"You're bad!" shouted another.

That started a chorus of children sounding off against Damian and what they
preserved as his assault on the beloved holiday icon.  Some kicked and
punched at the older boy, others swung their bags at him.

"Ouch, you bloodthirsty little fucker's!" Damian shouted, when a well
placed kick struck him in the shin.

"Ok, time to go," said Dick, who threw Damian over his shoulder and carried
him off, before he could cause any more trouble.

When they were safely away from the scrum of angry children, Dick sat
Damian back on his feet and the brothers approached the picture kiosk.

"Well, we better do some more shopping, we can't give dad this," said Dick.

"Yeah, I don't think he'd appreciate a picture of the three of us beating
up Santa," Tim agreed.

"I don't know, I rather like it," said Damian, as he paid for the 8x10 that
featured him locked in a tug-o-war with Santa while his brother's tried to
pull them apart.

"Come on brat, help me pick out a tie," said Tim, as he put his arm around
Damian's shoulder and marched him toward Macy's, "what the hell was that
anyway?"

"He's not real, he's probably killed the real Santa so that he could usurp
his position," said Damian.

"Of course he's not real," said Dick, "Damian, there are Santa's in malls
all over the world but little kids don't know it's fake, it's fun for
them."

"Then what's the point?" asked a confused Damian.

"It's tradition," said Dick and Tim in unison.

"Tradition, tradition," Damian huffed and rolled his eyes.

"Come on, I know you've lived all over the world but you never heard about
Santa Claus when you were in Europe, you never figured out what that was
all about?" said Tim.

"I knew the jolly old geriatric was a symbol of the holiday but I saw no
reason to learn more, what use does an assassin have for Santa Claus?" said
Damian.

"Ok, maybe we should have briefed you better," Dick conceded, "I sometimes
forget what a magical childhood you had."

"Can we just pick out some gifts and go home, this place closes in an
hour," said Tim.

While Tim and Dick scoured the tie racks for something they thought Bruce
would wear, Damian wandered over to the picture frames.  He saw no reason
why they shouldn't stick to the original plan, he thought the picture with
Santa captured he and his brothers perfectly.

Christmas Eve at Wayne Manor was a time for family and friends.  Alfred
spent most of the day preparing a feast fit for the Royal Family. Dick was
home and his girlfriend, Barbara Gordon, Wayne Enterprises CEO Lucius Fox
and his wife, and of course Colin, joined the family for the sumptuous
banquet.  There was roasted prime rib, mashed potatoes with horseradish,
creamed spinach, and that was just the main course.  After dinner, Alfred
served a dessert of pumpkin mouse and mulled wine.  When the guests left
for the evening, the family gathered in the library around the 12 foot tall
Christmas tree to open presents.

Colin went first because he couldn't stay; he had volunteered to play Santa
at the orphanage that night and wouldn't be home until later in the
evening.  He was thrilled with his gift, Damian and Robbie had combined
their resources to get him an iPhone. Robbie programmed it with all the
apps he'd designed for he and Damian and Damian made sure that all the
bills were sent directly to him.  Damian explained to Colin that if he was
going to be part of the team then he needed the same tools as everyone
else. Colin was thrilled, for the first time in his life, he felt like he
was with people who truly wanted him, he felt like he belonged.

Damian and his brother's should have asked Colin to take the portrait
they'd planned for their father.  Colin took a photography class at school
and as it turned out, he was brilliant. Using a camera he'd barrowed from
the school, he'd taken a black and white photo of Damian and Robbie, after
a football game.  Damian was dressed in his panther costume, minus the
head, with his arm around Robbie's shoulder, it was a great picture and
Colin had finished it off by matting it and putting it in a frame he'd made
himself.  Damian was deeply touched by the gift and thanked Colin
wholeheartedly.  Colin blushed and then made a quick exit, after receiving
gifts from the rest of the family, who treated him like an honorary Wayne.

Damian did well with the rest of his gift selections, in a family as
wealthy as the Wayne's; it wasn't the size of the gift but rather the
thought that counted most.  He gave Tim a book of 100 of the World's
Greatest Poems.  Bruce and Dick, even Tim, thought that it was a joke,
given Tim's dubious flirtation with poetry, but Damian had come to realize
that Tim had the soul of an artist and picked the book because he thought
he would enjoy it.  As for Dick, Damian gave him a new tennis racket, Dick
had tried to give him a lesson over the summer and when Dick beat him at
the new game, Damian had cracked the racket he'd been loaned, when he threw
it across the court at his brother.

All of the boys presented Alfred with day off coupons, they knew how hard
he worked to take care of them and they thought the best thing they could
do for him was to take turn's doing chores he'd rather not do himself.
After that, the boys presented their gifts to Bruce.  Tim and Dick had each
selected what Damian considered to be hideous ties, then he presented their
photo with Santa, complete with a bat themed frame that he'd found in the
clearance section. Bruce sat back and studied the photograph, his face an
impassive mask.

"That was going to be from all of us but someone decided to ruin it by
uncovering the truth about Santa," said Dick.

"Yeah, that was a disaster, I'm shocked that we weren't kicked out of the
mall," Tim agreed.

Bruce sat there for a moment then burst into a fit of laughter.

"It's wonderful, I love it," Bruce laughed.

"You do?" asked Damian, somewhat surprised, he thought for sure he'd judged
incorrectly on this gift, once his brother's put their two cents in.

"Absolutely, look at the three of you, most dad's get a phony posed
picture, but look at my boys, they captured you guys in your natural
element," Bruce smiled.

"At each other's throats?" asked Dick.

"Let's call it rambunctious or spirited," said Bruce, "Damian, where did
you get this frame?"

"I think it's from Halloween, I found it in the clearance section but I
thought you could put it in the cave, you know, your real office," said
Damian.

"That's exactly what I'll do, thanks son," Bruce smiled.

Damian was pleased with all of his gifts but none more so then Bruce's, the
elder Wayne had presented his youngest with the access code for the Bat
Cave and invited him to train there with his father and brothers.  To
Damian, the gift spoke volumes to the level of trust his family put in him
and he brimmed with pride.  It's an odd thing, a family, and it was a
subject that was on Damian's mind throughout the evening.

Once all the gifts were opened and the mess cleaned up, Bruce went to help
Alfred clean up the kitchen and grab a cup of hot cider.  Dick and Tim both
fell asleep on the couch, Dick listening to his iPod and Tim thumbing
through the book Damian had given him, his feet propped up on the coffee
table.  Damian stood by the fireplace, stroking Titus behind the ears and
watching his brothers.  It was strange, not long ago he would have been
perfectly happy to end their lives and have his father to his self, now he
was starting to feel like they belonged together.  Hell, with their dark
hair and blue eyes, they even looked like family.  Damian was contemplating
this, when Bruce distracted him.

"They're kinda cute when they aren't, well, speaking, right?" Bruce teased,
as he threw a blanket over the older boys.

"I'm sure you've said the same thing about me before," Damian retorted.

"Once or twice," Bruce winked, then leaned against the mantle, "I wanted to
tell you how proud I am of you Damian."

"For what?"

"You're doing very well at school, you've made good friends, I think Robbie
and Colin are men of excellent character and your attitude and outlook on
life seems to have drastically improved," said Bruce.

"Thank you father, I have been trying," Damian acknowledged.

"I know you have, I just thought you should know it hasn't gone unnoticed,
especially with Tim, you seem to be going out of your way to be nice to him
lately, I appreciate that, thank you," said Bruce.

"You're welcome but I haven't been doing it for you," said Damian.

"No?" asked Bruce, pleased with the boy's reply.

"Don't tell them I said this but I've grown rather fond of Grayson and
Drake," said Damian, "I think they make quite exceptional brothers."

"I'm glad to hear you say that, and don't worry, your secret's safe with
me," Bruce chuckled.

"Thank you," said Damian, quite seriously, "can I ask you something?"

"Sure, what's on your mind?" asked Bruce.

"I know how you came to be Batman, what I'm curious about is them," said
Damian, gesturing at his brothers, "how did Robin come to be, how did we
end up a family?"

"That's a long story," said Bruce.

"It's quiet, there's no Bat Signal in the sky and we've got a warm fire,
what better time to tell the story then now?" said Damian.

"Am I interrupting?" asked Alfred as he entered the room.

"Not at all.  Damian was just asking how our unique family got together,"
said Bruce, gesturing at the still sleeping Dick and Tim.

"It sounds like I came in at just the right time," smiled Alfred, as he
took up a seat close to the fire.

"Well, Dick was about 12, Tim 6, just babies really," said Bruce, "It all
started with a night at the circus..."

Dick Grayson had been born in Gotham City, on the first day of spring, but
at 12 years old, he'd spent less time there then a sailor on shore leave.
Together with his parents, John and Mary, they were The Flying Grayson's,
the most famous acrobats in the world and the stars of The Haly Circus.
The Grayson's traveled the world, impressing crowds with their daring
feats, but Dick was glad to be home and was looking forward to some well
earned time off.  It wasn't that he didn't enjoy working with the circus;
it was simply the fact that he was 12 years old and wanted to take some
time to do the things other boys did, like play baseball, or go to a
regular school and make friends.  John Grayson had promised the boy that
after the Gotham show, they'd enjoy a nice long rest, in their home town.

The Haly Circus was scheduled to perform in Gotham for a week and the first
night usually brought out the cities big shots.  As the showcase act, Dick
and his parents spent the intermission having their picture taken with
wealthy families of Gotham.  Dick always loved this part of the job,
especially meeting other kids who were in awe of his abilities.  A good
natured boy, Dick relished his ability to make people smile, especially
those close to his own age.  He was also a curious child and occasionally
had to be corralled by his mother when he strayed too far.

"Dicky, come here sweetheart," called Mary.

Dick had seen one of his favorite baseball players enter the tent, as the
media crowded around Tom Ross, pitcher for the Gotham Giants, the boy had
slipped away from his family to get a look.

"Sorry mom, I was just trying to see Mr. Ross," Dick blushed.

"There'll be plenty of time for that later, my little robin, come and meet
the Drake's and Mr. Wayne," said Mary.

Bruce Wayne was the most eligible bachelor in town and was used to being
fixed up on blind dates, he'd readily agreed to attend the circus with Rene
Drake, his neighbor Jack Drake's sister.  The couple had doubled with Jack
and his wife Janet, who brought along their 6 year old, Timothy.  Dick
happily shook hands with the adults and then knelt next to young Timothy,
who seemed in awe of the older boy.

"Hi, what's your name?" Dick smiled.

"Timothy Jackson Drake," the little boy smiled proudly.

"Well it's nice to meet you Timothy Jackson Drake, my name's Dick."

"I know, you were amazing," said Timothy.

"I'm so glad you're enjoying the show, what was your favorite part?" asked
Dick.

"The last flip you did, it was so cool!" Timothy exclaimed.

"Oh, the quadruple summersault, I've been practicing that for years, not
many people can do it," said Dick.

"It was so cool," Timothy repeated.

"Hurry along now, Timmy, I'm sure the Grayson's have to get ready for their
next act," said Jack.

"But daddy..." whined Timothy.

"Tell you what Timothy, if you go with your mom and dad, I'll see if I can
do another quadruple summersault, just for you," said Dick.

"Awesome!" said Timothy, as he excitedly chatted with his father.

"Thank you, the show is absolutely spectacular and your son is wonderful
with children," smiled Janet Drake, as she turned to follow her husband and
rambunctious little one.

The Drake's collected their photo, then returned to their seats with the
rest of their party while the Grayson's disappeared back stage.
Intermission came to an end and after the acrobats had changed into their
costumes, they waited for the Amazing Hernando, the Spanish Magician, to
perform his act.

"For my next act, I shall need a member of the audience to volunteer," said
Hernando.

"You should do it, Bruce," said Rene.

"Oh, I don't know..." Bruce began.

"You'll be great," Rene encouraged.

The Amazing Hernando saw the couple and thought the gentleman would make a
perfect assistant.  He looked uncomfortable and like he could use a break
from the woman the magician mistook for his wife.

"You sir, come down and join me in the ring," said Hernando, pointing his
finger, and a spotlight at Bruce.

Bruce stood and buttoned his suit coat, then dutifully marched down the
stairs.  Dick watched the tall billionaire as he strode over to the
magician.  The Grayson's would be performing next and Dick enjoyed moments
like this, where he stood with his parents, his mother's arms around him,
while he watched the show.  The magician loaded Bruce into a giant paper
machete donkey, then had it hoisted into the air, when it was high enough
that there was no way anyone could jump down without seeing, the donkey was
set ablaze and burned into nothing.  The crowd cheered while Bruce stumbled
around back stage, having made use of the trap door in the bottom of the
donkey, as Hernando had instructed him before beginning the trick.

When the applause died down, the Amazing Hernando took a final bow, then
the ring master stepped into the center ring.  The Grayson's were on next
and as they prepared for their introduction, Mary noticed that something
wasn't quite right.

"Dicky, where's your cape?" said Mary.

"Oh no, I left it in the dressing room," said Dick.

"Run and get it son, just make sure you're back in time for the flying
trapeze," said John.

"I will, sorry dad, I'll run," said Dick.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, boys and girls, once again the amazing, the
incredible, the spectacular Flying Grayson's!" shouted the ring master.

It was quiet back stage, most of the other performers usually took a break
to watch the Grayson's act.  Dick had no trouble negotiating a path to his
dressing room and soon had his cape fastened, he was returning to the
arena, when he caught a curious sight, the owner of the circus, Mr. Haly,
being pushed up against the wall by two strange men.  Instinctively, Dick
crouched behind a box and watched the action unfolding before him.

"Look, I don't know who this Zucco chap is but I've never paid protection
money in my life and I'm not about to start now," said Mr. Haly, bravely.

"No, you look pops, the boss says you gotta pay so you pay or some of those
pretty little performers of yours might not be so pretty anymore," said
Ronny Cox, Zucco's chief thug.

"Threaten me all you like, I'll go to the police," said Mr. Haly.

"Oh I wouldn't do that if I were you, I really wouldn't," said the second
thug, Tommy Bernardo.

"I demand you two leave at once," said Mr. Haly.

"This is our town, you don't make demands here," said Ronny, as he drew his
fist back.

Before the thug could strike, Bruce Wayne tripped over a box, sending it
crashing to the floor.  The two mafia hoods released the circus proprietor
and turned towards Bruce.

"Sorry gentlemen, am I interrupting something?" asked Bruce.

"We were just leaving," said Tommy.

"Yeah, but we'll be seeing you Haly, we'll be seeing you real soon," said
Ronny, menacingly.

"What was that all about?" asked Dick, he stepped forward from his hiding
place, once the two hoods were gone.

"Dicky, what are you doing here, you're supposed to be in the center ring,"
said Mr. Haly.

"Excuse me, I'll just be going back to my seat," said Bruce.

Haly paid him no attention, he assured Dick that everything was fine and
that there was nothing to worry about from the two men he'd seen.  The
proprietor sent the boy to join his parents and Bruce Wayne, rather than
return to his seat, retrieved the Bat Suit from the trunk of his car.
Bruce recognized Ronny and Tommy, he'd had run ins with them before and one
thing he knew was that they made good on threats.  Once he'd changed into
the Bat Suit, he returned to the circus, only this time, seeking the safety
and camouflage of the dark rigging high above.

Dick returned to the ring and performed his floor act flawlessly, despite
the fact that he was worried, despite Mr. Haly's assurances that there was
nothing to worry about.  The next part of the act took place on the
high-wire, Dick watched his parents climb to the top of the platform and
set out across the thick piece of rope.  High in the rafters, Dick saw
someone move and immediately recognized one of the faces, it was the man
who had Mr. Haly shoved against the wall.  Dick froze, he didn't know what
to do, the man shouldn't have been there, had no business being there but
Dick couldn't make his feet cooperate with his brain.

It was too late, Dick watched in horror as the line snapped and his parents
fell screaming to their death.  The mafia thugs had used acid to weaken the
thick rope and as the acrobats reached the middle, their weight was too
much for the line to hold.  The Grayson's never worked with a safety net,
always trusting in their abilities and their equipment, that faith lead to
their doom.  Batman found the two mafia thugs fleeing the scene, the damage
already done.

"Mommmmmmmy! Daddddddddddy!" Dick screamed, as his parents bodies hit the
pavement.

The ring master ran up behind the boy and pulled him into his breast,
shielding his eyes from the grizzly scene.

"Don't look Dicky, don't look," said the horrified ring master.

When the audience realized what had happened, that this wasn't part of the
act, they began to run for the exits.  Women screamed, mother's grabbed
their children and Timothy Drake watched in confusion, willing the famous
acrobats to stand up.

"Daddy, why aren't they getting up?" asked a very confused Timothy.

"Don't look Timmy, just look away," said Jack, as he grabbed his son and
his wife, they were a step behind his sister, as they raced out of the
arena.

The ring master held Dick fast in his arms, the Grayson's had been his
friends, he wasn't about to let Dick see them like this.  Dick was in
shock, he knew what had happened, knew that tears would come but for the
moment, he felt numb.  He looked up and in the rafters he saw a masked face
looking back at him, masked by the famous black cowl and masked by grief.

"Batman," mumbled Dick.

"Don't look Dicky, don't look," the ring master repeated.

Out in the parking lot, Bruce, back in his suit and tie, found the Drake's.

"What happened?" asked Bruce.

"Some kind of accident, it was terrible," said Jack.

"Where were you?" asked Rene, slightly annoyed.

"I was backstage, that magician didn't tell me where to go after the act,
it's a maze back there," said Bruce.

"What's going to happen to him?" asked Timothy, he was still in his
father's arms, but he was pointing at a very sad Dick, wrapped up in a
blanket next to a police car.

"I don't know son, I just don't know," said Jack.

Over the next few days, Bruce Wayne hardly slept, he was tormented by the
haunted expression he'd seen on the Grayson boy's face.  It brought back so
many painful memories from the death of his own parents. Bruce didn't need
to investigate the Grayson's murder, he knew what happened and knew who was
responsible, when he wasn't thinking about Dick, he devoted his time to
devising a plan to take down Tony Zucco, once and for all.  After his third
night of troubled, restless sleep, Bruce found himself pushing his
scrambled eggs around his plate with his fork and staring off into space.

"You could go and see the boy, Master Bruce," said Alfred.

"What?" Bruce replied, snapping out of his trance.

"The Grayson boy, I know you've been thinking about him sir."

"He has been on my mind," Bruce admitted.

"I'm sure he'd appreciate some company, this can't be an easy time for him,
as you know better than anyone," said Alfred.

"No child should ever have to lose their parents, let alone watch it
happen," said Bruce.

"Of course not but you know, Master Bruce, there is something to be said
for the small fraternity of boys who share that experience," said Alfred.

"What's that?" asked Bruce.

"There's certainly a bond there, you could help the boy," Alfred smiled.

"Yeah, maybe you're right," said Bruce, contemplatively.

Alfred left his charge to ponder the suggestion, while he returned to the
kitchen to tend to the breakfast dishes.  Bruce went to his study and paced
before the large picture window, then started making phone calls.  It took
an hour but he was able to trace Dick to the county juvenile center.  There
was a shortage of foster homes open at the time and with nowhere else to
place the boy, social services had locked him up with the inmates, while
they decided what to do with him.  This information sent Bruce scrambling
for his car keys.

When Bruce arrived at the juvenile center, he found Dick waiting for him in
a room used for weekly visitations between the inmates and their families.
Normally inmates were only allowed visitors on Saturdays but since Dick was
only there because he had no other place to go, the staff gave him plenty
of leeway.  The boy was sitting at a table, in a black sweatshirt, his
hands clasped together on the table and his eyes down cast.

"Hello Dick, you probably don't remember me but I'm..." Bruce began.

"Bruce Wayne, I remember," said Dick, looking up for the first time and
revealing a black eye.

"Who did this to you?" asked Bruce.

"One of the older boys, he wanted me to give him my sandwich, at lunch
yesterday, but I was hungry," Dick frowned.

Bruce Wayne was not known for his snap decisions, he thought about things,
took his time to deliberate but not this time.  He took Dick's small hand
in his and stood up.

"Come on, we're getting out of here," said Bruce.

"Where are we going?" asked Dick.

"My house, you can't stay here," said Bruce.

"Mr. Wayne you can't just take the boy," said the duty warden, who tried to
stop them as they walked out of the visitation room.

"And yet that's exactly what I'm doing," said Bruce, "tell social services
I've taken the boy and should there be any further discussion needed, they
can reach me through my offices at Wayne Enterprises.  In the mean time,
see to it that his things are delivered."

Bruce placed the boy in his car, then climbed into the driver's seat and
sped out of the parking lot.  He hadn't planned this but his mind had been
made up the moment he saw the black eye on Dick's face, he couldn't have
left the child there, even if he'd wanted to.  He wasn't exactly sure what
he was going to do with the boy but he knew Wayne Manor would be a better
place for him then where he'd found him.

The ride in the car was quiet, neither man or boy saying a word.  When they
pulled up in front of Wayne Manor, Bruce led the boy inside.  For the time
being, Dick forgot about his problems, he'd never been in a place like this
before and his jaw hung open while he looked everywhere, soaking up the
sights as best he could.

"Alfred!" Bruce shouted.

"Yes, Master Bruce?" said the wizened old butler, as he came out of the
library with his feather duster.

"We, uh, have company," said Bruce.

"I see," said Alfred, the usually unflappable butler momentarily dumbstruck
by the appearance of the surprise guest.

"This is Dick Grayson, he'll be staying with us for... a while," said
Bruce.

"Well then, how do you do Master Richard, I'm Alfred," said the butler, as
he stooped over to shake hands with the boy.

"H-hi," said Dick, still in awe of his surroundings.

"Would you like something to eat, young sir?" asked Alfred.

"Yeah, I mean, yes please," said Dick, as his manners returned.

Alfred took the boy into the kitchen and Bruce returned to his study.
Bruce sat behind his desk for a moment, then picked up his phone and dialed
his lawyer.  He'd let Weintraube, Giest and Dalsgaard deal with Gotham
Social Services.

Dick found the next few days to be an exercise in frustration.  Bruce never
talked much, and that left Dick feeling like he was in a state of limbo.
He was glad to be out of that horrible juvenile center but he didn't know
how long he was going to be at Wayne Manor, where he was going to go next
or what was to become of him.  Dick was also troubled by his parents
murder, he read the papers, he knew that the police were writing it off as
a freak accident but he also knew that wasn't true.  His mom and dad where
the victims of a crime, they had been taken from him and he wanted justice.
Feeling that the justice system had let him down, Dick resolved to take
matters into his own hands.

He remembered everything about that awful night, about coming out of his
dressing room and finding Mr. Haly being roughed up by those two bit mafia
hoods.  He remembered their threats but what he remembered most of all was
the name Zucco.  It didn't take Dick long to figure out that the men he'd
seen worked for Gotham's mob boss, Tony Zucco, that gave him the target for
his revenge, now he just had to figure out what he was going to do.

The answer came on Dick's third day at Wayne Manor.  Bruce had finished
breakfast, patted the boy on the back and quietly left the dining room.
When he was gone, Dick reached for the news paper and quickly scanned the
front page, he'd seen the name Zucco on one of the headlines, before
sitting down to eat his cereal, now he found the story and skimmed it until
he found what he was looking for.  In a story about Zucco's latest RICO
trial, the journalist mentioned a club that the gangster owned and ran his
business from, The Crazy Horse.

Dick knew exactly what he was going to do, he was quiet the rest of the
day, his mind was focused on the job at hand.  Since arriving at Wayne
Manor, Dick had spent a lot of time with Alfred, the butler knew the boy to
be quite chatty, and he couldn't fail to notice how quiet he was being.
Alfred chalked the silence up to the fact that, he and Bruce had arranged
for funeral services for John and Mary Grayson to take place the next day.
The boy would be saying his final goodbye to his parents and Alfred knew
that had to be weighing heavily on his mind.

Dick waited until bedtime, after he said goodnight to Bruce and Alfred,
before making his move.  Instead of changing into his pajamas, he put on a
black hoodie and slipped out of the third story window.  A trained acrobat,
Dick had no trouble quickly scaling the wall and landing on terra firma
with both feet, just like a cat.  Little did he know that his absence was
about to be missed.

"Are you going to say anything to the boy, sir?" asked Alfred, as he and
Bruce sat in front of the fire in the library.

"Do you think I should?" asked Bruce.

"I know this is new for you sir, but it is customary for parents to comfort
their children prior to life changing events, such as funerals," said
Alfred.

"But I'm not his parent," said Bruce.

"You're the closest he's got," Alfred reminded him.

Dick's arrival at Wayne Manor hadn't been easy for Bruce.  He hadn't
planned this, didn't know what he was doing, all he wanted was to get Dick
away from the juvenile center he'd been placed in.  Since then, he'd come
to like having the boy around, they didn't talk much but the house seemed
lighter with the boy there.  However as much as he liked having the boy
with him, he'd resisted the temptation to step in as a father figure.

Bruce remembered his training at the hands of Ra's al Ghul, "when they come
for you, they'll come at what you love." Bruce knew this to be true, he'd
had any number of girl friends face danger because of their association
with him, what would happen if he had a child?  Bruce's mind was plagued by
his search for an answer to that question, after all, Ra's had children, if
he of all people could make that work, couldn't Bruce Wayne?

"You're right, Alfred, I'll go and check on him," said Bruce.

"Good sir, and you might mention that you've made up your mind," said
Alfred.

"You know me to well, old friend," smiled Bruce.

Bruce walked up the stairs and knocked on Dick's door but there was no
answer.  He knocked again and still nothing, then he turned the knob and
stepped inside.  Bruce found the bed still made and the curtains flapping
in the breeze coming from the open window.

"Alfred!" Bruce shouted.

"What's the matter, sir?" Alfred panted, after racing up the stairs to join
his employer.

"Dick's gone," said Bruce.

They searched the room, looking for any sign of the boy, any clue as to
where he might have gone.  Alfred, who had experience dealing with troubled
boys, looked under Dick's pillow and found exactly what he was looking for.

"Does this help, sir?" asked Alfred, as he handed over the mornings paper,
folded neatly to the story about Zucco.

"Damn it, I was afraid of something like this," said Bruce, as he stormed
from the room, "thanks Alfred."

"Good luck, Master Bruce," the butler called behind him.

Across town, deep in the heart of the narrows, Dick found The Crazy Horse.
He approached from the rear, sneaking up the back ally and making his way
to the staircase in the back of the building.  Dick took a deep breath then
moved up the steps, he was about to start climbing them when the back door
opened and one of Zucco's thugs stepped out.

"What are you doing back here, kid?" said the mafia thug.

"N-nothing, I was just..." Dick began.

"Ain't no place for kids," said the thug, as he grabbed the boy by his
collar and shook him, "what do you want!"

Dick began to panic, he'd found the nightclub but he was 12 and hadn't
given a lot of thought to how he was going to carry out the next part of
his plan, now, here was facing off with a thug he hadn't counted on. On
instinct alone, Dick kicked the man in the groin, when he dropped to his
knees, Dick picked up a two by four from the alley floor and clubbed the
man over the head, knocking him unconscious.  Dick bent over, hands on his
knees, panting for breath but still full of resolve.  He ran his hands over
the man's body and after a quick pat down, he found what he was looking for
and slipped the man's .45 automatic into his hoodie.

Dick climbed the stairs and carefully stuck his head through the open door.
He looked around the dark hallway and saw light coming from one of the
rooms.  He approached slowly, carefully testing the strength of the
floorboards before putting all his weight down, least more thugs hear him
and come to investigate.  When he reached the door with the light coming
from under it, he put his shaking hand on the knob and turned it slowly.
The door opened and Dick found himself staring at the man responsible for
his parent's death, Tony Zucco.

He was huge, fat and sweaty, he sat behind his desk like a frog on a lily
pad.  He looked up when the door opened and was surprised to see the small
boy who came padding across the wood floor.

"You lost or something, kid?" said Zucco.

Dick's eyes were wide, his body was shaking, this was the man who had
killed his parents and he had the means to send him to hell.

"What's a matter, cat got your tongue?" said Zucco.

"Y-you killed my parents," Dick stuttered.

"Oh, you'll have to be more specific if you want me to remember who they
were, I kill a lot of people's parents," Zucco grinned wickedly.

Dick pulled the gun from his hoodie and pointed it at the gangster, his
hands shaking badly as he struggled to aim the heavy weapon.

"Now what do we have here," said Zucco, raising slowly from his desk.

"You killed my parents," said Dick, this time as if he were spitting venom.

"You need to put that down right now little boy, unless you wanna join
mommy and daddy," said Zucco, threateningly, inching forward, closer to the
boy.

"Stay back, I'm warning you," said Dick.

"You gimme that gun now, you hear boy?"

"I'm warning you," said Dick.

Zucco reached out, moving slowly to take the gun from the boy.  Dick was
shaking harder but he knew he couldn't let Zucco disarm him, he fired a
warning shot that sent Zucco stumbling backward to avoid being hit.

"I said stay back," said Dick.

"Ok, ok, I'm baking off," said Zucco.

"Good, that's good, you stay away from me," said Dick, as he began to get
control over his emotions.

"Why don't you just go home, huh?" said Zucco, "you leave me alone and I'll
leave you alone, no harm done."

"No harm done?" said Dick, "YOU KILLED MY PARENTS!"

Zucco flinched as the gun in Dick's hand shook at him.  He was dripping
with sweat, facing death was part of the life he'd chosen but he'd never
expected it to come at the hands of a small boy.  His heart started racing
and he felt a pain in his chest.

"Rocco!" Zucco shouted, calling on his thug who was passed out in the
alley.

"Rocco's not coming, and you're going to answer for the murder of John and
Mary Grayson," said Batman, as he stepped up behind Dick.

"Batman!" Dick and Zucco exclaimed.

"Put the gun down Dick, it's time to go home," said Batman.

"But he..." Dick started.

"I know what he did and he's going to answer for it, now give me the gun,"
said Batman.

Dick started to waver, he lowered the weapon, ever so slightly, but then
Zucco had to open his mouth.

"Yeah kid, give him the gun," said Zucco.

The sound of the fat mafia slug's voice infuriated Dick, he raised the gun
again and took careful aim.

"This isn't what your mom and dad would want for you Dick, this scum isn't
worth it," said Batman.

Dick stood there, gun out stretched, hands shaking.  Zucco's forehead
looked like Niagra Falls as the sweat poured down his face, his breathing
grew deeper, he had to suck in more air just to maintain his speech, and
his chest pounded with pain.  Dick felt tears well up in his eyes and
cascade down his cheeks, he couldn't do it, he couldn't pull the
trigger. Batman put his hand on the guns slide and gently pulled it from
the boys hand.  Dick let it go, turned and buried his face in Batman's
chest as he wept.

"That's right kid, bawl now because when I get my hands on you..." Zucco
threatened, now that he was out of danger.

Batman kicked Zucco, forcing him back down on the ground as he scooped the
boy into his arms.  He left the mafia boss clutching his chest as he made
his way to the Batmobile.  Dick slumped into his seat and cried all the way
to the Batcave, when they arrived, Batman put the boy in a chair and stood
in front of him.

"You made the right choice, you can't avenge your parents by taking life,"
said Batman.

"I-I couldn't do it," Dick stuttered.

"That's because you knew it was wrong, as much as you might have wanted to
pull that trigger and as much as he deserved it, deep down you knew that
you couldn't take someone else's life.  If you'd done it, no matter how
noble your motives, you'd have been just like him," said Batman.

"I guess so," Dick sniffled.

"I want to show you something, Dick," said Batman, as he removed his cowl.

"MR. WAYNE!" shouted Dick.

"You can call me Bruce."

"You're Batman?"

"I am, and I have a proposition for you," said Bruce.

"What?" asked Dick.

"I want you to be my partner," said Bruce.

"What, why me?" asked Dick.

"Because I see a lot of myself in you, because I think you have courage and
with the right training you can help me clean up this city, and because if
you can't trust your son, who can you trust?" said Bruce.

"Your son?" asked Dick.

"I know it's soon, and I'm not trying to replace your parents but I've had
my lawyers take steps for me to adopt you.  I don't want you ever going
back to that juvenile center and I think maybe we both need each other,"
Bruce explained.

Dick stood up and Bruce thought he was going to walk out, he was surprised
when instead, Dick threw his arms around his neck and hugged him tight.

"Thank you Mr. Wayne, I don't ever want to go back to that place again and
I didn't know what was going to happen to me," said Dick.

"It's alright Dick, you'll never have to worry about that again," said
Bruce, "come on, let's go up to the house and get some sleep, we'll have
the rest of our lives to talk about the details."

Dick dried his eyes and followed Bruce up the long staircase.

"Now that you're going to be my partner, we'll have to think of a name to
call you," said Bruce.

"Robin," Dick replied, immediately.

"What's that?" asked Bruce, stopping to turn and look at the boy.

"My mom, she used to call me her little robin," Dick blushed.

"Robin, the Boy Wonder, I like that," Bruce smiled.

The next day, Dick buried his parents at Gotham Cemetery, with Bruce and
Alfred at his side.  Alfred had informed the Drakes about the funeral and
the Wayne's neighbors made it a point to be there as well.  It was a small
and dignified service and when it was over, Bruce left Dick at the
gravesite so that he could say his final goodbye in private.  The adults
stood over by the cars and waited for the boy, little Timothy quietly
released his daddy's hand and walked over to Dick.

"Hi," said Timothy.

"Hi, Timothy, right?" said Dick.

"Uh huh, but you can call me Timmy, like my mommy and daddy."

"Thanks Timmy," Dick smiled weakly, then turned back to the two graves.

"You're sad, huh?" asked Timmy.

"Yeah," Dick sniffled.

"Here, you could have this," said Timmy, holding out the picture his family
had taken with the Grayson's the night they died.

Dick looked at the picture, it was the last one his parents would ever
take.  He'd forgotten about the photograph but he was glad to have it.

"Thanks Timmy, that's really thoughtful of you," said Dick.

"Ok," Timmy blushed, "Are you ready to go now, its' cold."

"Yeah, let's go home," said Dick.

"Here, take my hand," said Timmy.

Dick took the boys hand in his and led him back to the car.  Jack picked up
his tiny son and Bruce patted Dick on the back as he climbed into the
backseat, bringing the day to a close.

"So that's it?" asked Damian.

"It took a year of training before I let Dick go out on patrol with me, but
you wanted to know how he became Robin, now you do," said Bruce.

"What happened to Zucco, he didn't just get away with it?" asked Damian.

"No, nature took care of him before we got the chance to," said Bruce.

"I don't follow," said Damian.

"Heart attack, bastard died when his heart popped like a balloon," Bruce
explained.

"Poor Grayson," said Damian, "Were Drake's parents murdered too?"

"Not exactly, that story's a little more complicated," said Bruce.

"You said you'd tell me," Damian reminded him.

"I know you're mother never told you about me but did she ever tell you
about Batman?" asked Bruce.

"Mommy and grandfather told me all about Batman, they said he was the
greatest warrior the League had ever produced but that he'd betrayed us and
became grandfather's nemesis," said Damian.

"Did your grandfather ever mention a name he used to call Batman?"

"Yes, he called him, Detective," Damian replied, "he said that was a
compliment, that Batman was one of the greatest investigators he'd ever
known."

"Ever hear him call anyone else that?" asked Bruce.

"No, never," said Damian.

"I have, only once," Bruce smiled.

"Who?" asked Damian.

"He's sitting right over there," said Bruce, as he pointed at Tim.

"Drake? Really?" asked Damian.

Once Dick moved into Wayne Manor, Timothy began to follow him around like a
lost puppy.  Most 12 year olds wouldn't want a 6 year old as their
permanent shadow but Dick found that life at Wayne Manor could be lonely
and Tim was bright and mature for his age.  Dick had always wanted a little
brother or sister and lavished attention on Tim.  The relationship also
benefited Tim, his parents often traveled, leaving him in the care of
various nannies and boarding schools, now Dick looked after him.  Dick also
started training the boy in acrobatics, skills that would be more useful to
his future then either suspected.

Tim was nine years old when he uncovered Bruce and Dick's secret
identities.  Like most boys in Gotham City, Tim followed the careers of
Batman and Robin with relish.  He was watching the news with his parents
one night, The Dynamic Duo was battling The Riddler outside the Bank of
Gotham.  Tim was just taking a drink of his soda when he saw Robin perform
a quadruple summersault.  The boy almost spit his drink across the room,
he'd been training with Dick Grayson for three years now and he knew that
move was one of the most difficult a gymnast could perform.  There were
only a handful of people who could do it and one of them was Dick, formerly
of the famous Flying Grayson's.

"Hey buddy, you're early," said Dick, when Tim greeted him the next
morning.

"Sorry, I was just eager to get started today," Tim replied.

For the past three years, the boys had a standing appointment to work out
together before school.  Dick was 15 now and though he was popular and had
many friends, he always made time for Tim, who he considered his little
brother.

"That's ok, I'll just change and we can head down to the gym," said Dick.

Tim watched Dick changed and took notice of several bruises on the older
boys back and abdomen.  Dick was always coming up with strange injuries and
often blamed them on clumsy accidents around the house.  Tim realized how
foolish he'd been to believe those excuses, his friend was graceful and
poised, he was one of the finest acrobats in the world, he didn't have a
clumsy bone in his body.  He'd trusted Dick, he didn't think his idol would
ever lie to him but now he knew, Dick had been keeping a secret for years.

"How'd you get those bruises?" asked Tim.

"Me and Peter Gibbons were climbing the rock wall at the school gym, I lost
my balance and took a tumble," said Dick.

"Right, you lost your balance," Tim scoffed.

"Yeah, that's what I said," Dick replied, with a raised eyebrow, Tim never
doubted him.

"Whatever," said Tim, "I was wondering if we could try something new
today?"

"Sure, what did you have in mind?" asked Dick.

"I wanted you to teach me how to do a quadruple summersault," said Tim.

Dick froze, there was danger here, something about Tim's tone was causing
alarm bells to ring, he just couldn't quite see where the danger lie.

"Come on Timmy, you know you're not ready for that yet," said Dick.

"I can do it, I know I can, I just need you to teach me how," Tim pleaded.

"There's only so many people in the world who can do that trick, and
they've trained for years," said Dick.

"You can do it, I've seen you," Tim retorted.

"Yeah, you've seen me, once," said Dick.

"Twice," Tim shot back.

"Once, just the night my parents died," said Dick.

"And last night, on the news," Tim replied.

Dick just stared at the little boy, behind his impassive face, his mind was
racing, trying to think of something to say, something to put an end to
this conversation.

"I know who you are Dick, you and Bruce," said Tim.

"What are you talking about?" said Dick, trying to buy himself some time.

"You're Batman and Robin," said Tim.

"What?" laughed Tim, "I think you bumped your head the last time we
trained, you're talking crazy."

"Only a handful of people can do a quadruple summersault, Robin did one
last night on the 6 o'clock news," Tim explained.

"Ok, so he's one of the people that can do it..." Dick began.

"Everyone knows Robin's a boy, about 15 years old, he has your black hair,
how many of the people who can do the quadruple fit that description and
live in Gotham City?" asked Tim.

"Yeah, but..." said Dick.

"And there are the injuries you're always coming up with, I didn't realize
it until I saw that summersault but they always seem to appear after I've
read something about Batman and Robin in the paper or seen something on
TV," said Tim.

"I, uh," Dick stuttered.

"Not to mention you come up with flimsy excuses to leave, every time the
Bat Signal shines across the sky, Robin," said Tim.

"When did you become such a detective?" asked Dick.

"I just see what I see," Tim smiled.

"I think we better skip our training this morning and have a chat with
Bruce," said Dick.

Bruce tried to explain away Tim's discoveries but it was no use, they were
caught.  Bruce swore Tim to secrecy and the boy became part of the team, he
spent many nights in the Bat Cave, using his intellect to help Batman and
Robin when he could.  Tim kept the secret, never once revealing what he
knew to anyone.  He continued to train with Dick and watched as the older
boy outgrew the Robin suit and took on his own superhero identity as
Nightwing.  Tim knew Jason Todd and watched him assume the role his friend
had left vacant.  Though they had never been close, Tim felt Jason's lose
when he was killed by the Joker.

It was about this time that Tim's parents, Jack and Janet, left for a
business trip to Hati.  During the trip, the Drakes where taken hostage but
a sadistic voodoo priest known as the Obeah Man.  The Drakes where held for
ransom but were saved by Batman, only he was too late.  Jack and Janet,
relieved to be free, drank some water that the Obeah Man had poisoned, she
died instantly but Jack lingered in a coma.  Over the next several months,
Tim resided at Wayne Manor and while his father recovered, he became the
new Robin.

It wasn't easy and it didn't happen overnight.  After the loss of Jason,
Bruce was reluctant to take on a new partner but both Dick and Tim felt
that Batman was becoming reckless without a young sidekick. Dick resolved
to do whatever he could to help his mentor as Nightwing and ignored Tim's
pleas get involved in the family business.  One night, Dick raced off to
help Batman battle Two-Face, only for both of them to be captured; Tim
watched the whole thing on the monitor in the Bat Cave.

"Oh my God Alfred, what are we going to do?" asked Tim, as they watched the
carnage on the screen.

"I'm afraid there's only one thing we can do, Master Timothy," said Alfred,
as he turned his gaze from the boy to the glass case where Jason Todd's
Robin costume resided in its place of honor, "If you think you're ready."

Tim followed Alfred's gaze and looked at the suit, it had been placed
there, after Jason's death, never to be worn again, only now, things had
changed.

"I'm ready," said Tim.

Two-Face held Batman and Nightwing at the old mill on the Gotham River, Tim
deduced that from the images he was seeing on screen and the last reported
location of the two superhero's.  He was only thirteen, so he changed into
the Robin costume in the back of the Rolls Royce while Alfred did the
driving.

"Well, how do I look?" asked Tim, when he stepped out of the car in
uniform.

"You look ready to take on the world, how do you feel?" asked Alfred.

"Nervous, but excited, I can do this, I have to, if I don't, they'll die,"
Tim Replied.

"Good luck, Master Timothy," said Alfred, as the boy climbed the fire
escape to the roof of the mill.

Batman and Nightwing were bound at the wrist and ankles to folding chairs,
Two-Face paced back and forth in front of them, one of his henchmen stood
behind them.

"What are we gonna do with them boss?" asked the henchman, "should we
unmask them and kill them or kill them and unmask them?"

"An excellent question, why don't we let fate decide?" said Two-Face as he
flipped his coin into the air.

The coin never landed, Robin threw a Baterang and took out the coin in
mid-air.  Two-Face and his henchman turned in the direction the Baterang
had come from and stared in shock.

"You!" Two-Face exclaimed, "you're dead!"

"Scared of ghosts?" asked Robin as he leapt to the floor, his cape
fluttering in the breeze coming off the river.

"The Joker killed you, everyone knows that," spat Two-face.

"Robin?" said Batman, in puzzled wonderment.

"I came back for you Two-Face," Robin smiled wickedly.

Two-Face's henchman rushed at the boy but Robin was prepared for that.  He
pulled a staff from his utility belt and with the press of a button, he
extended it to its full length.  The henchman charged forward and Robin
jammed the staff into his belly then used it to vault the man over his head
and against the wall.  The henchmen fell to the ground with a sickening
crunch.

"Just you and me now, Two-Face," said Robin.

"I don't think so, not this time," Two-Face replied.

To Robin's great surprise, Two-Face turned and ran.  His instinct was to
give chase but he was already out on a limb, he knew he didn't have the
training to pursue and apprehend the villain on his own.  He had come to
rescue his friends and so he set about untying them.  As soon as Batman was
released, he seized the boy by the arms and examined his face.

"Jason?" asked Batman, as he brushed a lock of black hair off the boys
forehead.

"No, it's me," said Tim, as he took off his mask, "It's me, Tim."

"Timothy, good God, do you know what could have happened to you?" said
Batman, as he came to his senses.

"Do you know what could have happened to us, if he hadn't shown up?" said
Nightwing.

"You need a partner, I'm ready and I've been trained," said Tim.

"Not enough," said Batman.

"I know that, but I want to learn, you can teach me what I need to know,
you taught Dick, you taught Jason..." Tim began.

"And you saw what my training did to Jason, it cost him his life," said
Batman.

"No, Jason did that to himself.  I know he was your son and I know you
loved him but he was reckless and impulsive and that's what got him
killed," said Tim.

"How dare you..." Batman started.

"He's not wrong, Boss," said Nightwing, "I loved Jason too but he had his
faults, we all do.  Tim's deliberate and thoughtful, maybe more so then any
of us, you won't have to worry about him the way you did Jason, and you
need him."

Batman considered what they were saying and he knew they were right.

"We can talk about this more at home," said Batman, as he turned towards
the exit.

"So Drake claimed the Robin mantle as his own?" asked Damian.

"When we were in danger and there was no other option, Tim did what he had
to do to save his friends," said Bruce.

"And since then he's been Robin?" said Damian.

"No, he got lucky that night, I don't know what would have happened if
Two-Face hadn't run off, Tim wasn't ready to fight him.  After that night,
I started training him, he worked with Dick and Alfred and I eventually
sent him on a world tour so that he could learn from some of the best,"
Bruce explained.

"I was trained by the best," Damian reminded his father.

"Son, I don't doubt your fighting skills in the least, but you have to
learn to use your mind.  You're smart, but you have to develop your street
smarts, you can't do that in the League of Shadows, they're to isolated,
that's why I sent you to school," said Bruce.

"And I can learn to be street smart by hanging around with children who are
obsessed with their acne and this Justin Bieber?" Damian scoffed.

"Yes," Bruce smiled, "you can learn a lot from your peers."

"Whatever," said Damian, rolling his eyes in disbelief, "did Drakes father
ever recover?"

"He came out of his coma but he was paralyzed, still, he led a full life,
he even got remarried, unfortunately he was later killed," Bruce sighed.

"I'm sorry for Drake, that must have been very hard," Damian sympathized.

"He's tougher then he looks, he bore it well," said Bruce.

"You and Dick were lucky, your parents we're ripped away, Drake lost his
mother then had to watch his father languish, that's terrible," said
Damian.

"Yeah," Bruce agreed.

"Right, well then, you skipped Jason," said Damian, shaking off the subject
of Tim's dead parents.

"Not tonight son," said Bruce.

"But you said you'd..." Damian protested.

"I know, but it's been a long night, it'll keep till another time," said
Bruce.

"Very well," said Damian, looking at his watch, "I'm supposed to call
Robbie anyway."

"Good night, son," said Bruce.

Damian walked out of the room but stopped to put his hand on Drake's
shoulder and give it a gentle squeeze.  He returned to his room and lie on
his bed, then dialed his boyfriend.  It was almost midnight in Gotham City
but because of the time zone difference, Robbie was just finishing dinner
in Hawaii.  The two boys had agreed to hold their gifts until Christmas Eve
and exchange them together, over the phone.

"Open yours first," said Robbie.

"Ok, which one?" asked Damian.

"Start with the small one," Robbie giggled.

Damian tore the wrapping off the small box and then extracted the contents.

"An eye patch?" asked Damian, confused by the small piece of black fabric
and elastic.

"No, it's a thong, you dork!" Robbie howled with laughter.

"You mean you want me to wear this thing?" Damian exclaimed.

"Yeah, you know, its sexy underwear," Robbie explained.

"But it'll floss my butthole!" said Damian.

"You don't really have to wear it, Dami, it's a gag gift, you know, a
joke," said Robbie.

"Oh, now I get it, very funny," Damian agreed.

"Open the other one," Robbie instructed.

This time Damian opened a handsome leather bound journal with his name
embossed on the front cover.

"This is beautiful, thank you Robbie."

"Read the inside," Robbie instructed.

Damian opened the book and found a note written in Robbie's scrawling
penmanship.

"For my special boy and all his special thoughts.  With love, Robbie,"
Damian read aloud, "Robbie, I don't know what to say."

"Don't worry, that kinda says it all," Robbie smiled on his side of the
line.

"Alright, open mine," said Damian.

"It's a watch," said Robbie, as he opened the paper and pulled it from the
box.

"It's just like mine," said Damian.

"Oh, so if I press the tracking button, Batman and Robin will come and save
me?" Robbie giggled.

"No, I will.  That GPS tracker is linked to my iPhone, if anyone messes
with you, they'll have to deal with me," Damian explained.

"It's perfect Dami, I love it," said Robbie, a little choked up.

"I'm glad," said Damian.

"So it's your first Christmas, what do you think?" asked Robbie.

Damian thought about the question and while he pondered it, he looked at
the picture he'd taken with his brothers and Santa.  Someone was missing
from it, someone that Damian had shared a Christmas Eve with before, though
he hadn't remembered it until that moment.

It was three weeks after his beating, at the hands of his trainers, and
Damian and his family were still hold up in their German castle.  His
mother had recently returned from a brief mission abroad, leaving him in
the care of his grandfather.  Damian worshipped his grandfather but he was
happy to have mommy home.  It was late December, snow was falling from the
night sky and he was happy to curl up alongside her, in his robe and
pajamas, and listen to Wagner, while his grandfather read by the fire.

"Dami, where are you going my darling?" asked Talia, when the boy stood up.

"To get a glass of milk," he replied.

"Would you like me to do that for you, you need your rest," said Talia, she
still felt guilty when she looked at him.  His arm was in a sling from the
broken collar bone he'd received in training, from the attack she'd allowed
to take place.

"I'm 10, I can get it myself," Damian assured her.

"Talia, don't baby the boy," said Ra's, without looking up from his book.

Talia relented and Damian went on his way, stopping only to grab his
katana.  He'd taken to carrying the sword wherever he went, since his
beating.  The beating had been a training exercise, he hadn't expected it
and that was part of the lesson, always be prepared.  As such, he kept the
sword at his side, ready to strike anyone who would dare to harm him.  He
passed a few guards who were on duty; those who saw him snapped to
attention as he walked by.  It was a sign of respect to the boy who would
one day replace his grandfather as their leader.

Damian crossed through the castles grand dining room and entered the
kitchen alone, or so he thought.  It took a moment for his eyes to adjust
to the bright light, then he spotted someone hunched over, digging through
the refrigerator.  The guards never came in here, they had their own area
of the castle, the cook had retired to the servant's quarter's hours ago
and he'd just left his mother and grandfather. Damian quietly drew his
sword and stealthily approached the intruder.

"Turn slowly or I'll be forced to run you through," said Damian.

There was a sound that indicated the intruder had dropped something, then
he stood up to his full height and turned as ordered.  He was a boy, no
more then 16, with dark black hair and green eyes.  There was fear in his
eyes, though not of Damian, a deeper fear, almost a haunted look.  He was
dressed similarly to Damian, in blue pajamas and a dark blue bathrobe.  To
the casual observer, the boys could have been brothers.

"Who are you?" Damian demanded.

"You wanna put that thing down?" said the boy, gesturing at the sword.

"Your name," Damian demanded.

"Ok, ok, Jason, they said my name's Jason," he replied.

"They?" asked Damian.

"Talia and the old man," Jason replied.

"That's my mother and grandfather," said Damian.

"She brought me here," said Jason, "so can you put that down now?"

"Alright," said Damian, as he sheathed his sword and cautiously stepped
back from the stranger.

"Do you always walk around with a sword?" asked Jason.

"Yes," said Damian, as though that were a stupid question, "what are you
doing down here?"

"I, I was hungry," said Jason.

"Why didn't you have dinner with us, if you're a guest?" asked Damian.

"I was asleep," said Jason, "what are you doing down here?"

"I came to get a glass of milk," said Damian.

"I'll get it," said Jason.

"I can do it myself," Damian grumped.

"Yeah, I know, but I'm already here, why don't you let me do it for you?"
said Jason.

"Alright," Damian agreed, as he hopped up on a stool and sat at the
counter.

Jason put the milk on the counter then retrieved two glasses from the
cabinet; he sat across from the small boy and poured.

"I thought you were hungry?" said Damian.

"I am," Jason admitted, "wanna have a sandwich with me?"

"Ok," said Damian, as he watched the boy's every move.  He'd never spent
much time with other children and the discovery of the strange teenager, in
his kitchen, filled him with curiosity.

Jason dug out the ingredients he'd been collecting from the fridge and
placed them on the counter, then set about making two sandwiches from that
evenings leftover roast beef.

"What's your name?" asked Jason.

"Damian al Ghul," he replied.

"Can you tell me where I am, Damian?" asked Jason.

"Schloss Hohenschwangau, Germany," said Damian.

"Wow, that's a long way from Gotham City," said Jason.

"You're from Gotham City?" asked Damian, excitedly.

"Yeah," Jason smiled.

"Have you ever seen Batman?"

"Only on TV," Jason replied.

"My father lives there," Damian explained, "In Gotham City."

"Oh yeah, what's his name?" asked Jason.

"I, I don't know," Damian admitted, shyly.

"Oh, well, that's ok, I don't know who my dad is either, or anyone else for
that matter.  For all I know, maybe we're family," Jason smiled.

Damian looked at him dubiously.

"Right, so how did you break your arm?" asked Jason.

"It's not my arm, it's my collar bone, it has to stay in a sling until it
heals, and I was in a fight," said Damian.

"At school?" asked Jason.

"No," Damian giggled, as if he could be involved in anything so pedestrian
as a school yard tussle, "it was part of my training, I was attacked by 30
Shadowmen."

"Shadowmen?" asked Jason, curiously.

"You don't know who we are, do you?" asked Damian.

"All I know is that your mom said she was a member of the League of
Shadows, whatever that is, and that if I came with her, her father might be
able to help me remember, I jumped at the chance," said Jason.

"You're probably here for training then," Damian explained.

"In that case, I hope I fair better then you," said Jason, gesturing at
Damian's arm.

"I killed 5 of them and 3 more will never walk again," said Damian,
defending himself from what he took as an insult.

"Hey, I didn't mean to offend you, it's just that where I come from, little
boys don't usually take on 30 guys in a fight," said Jason, thinking this
kid had a very strange imagination.

"I'll let it pass this time, you obviously don't know who you're dealing
with," said Damian, haughtily.

"Here, try this," said Jason, passing the boy a sandwich.

Damian held the big sandwich in his tiny hands and put it to his lips,
where he nibbled at it like a chipmunk.

"It's delicious," Damian exclaimed.

"Thanks," Jason smiled, as he started to eat his own sandwich, "what day is
it anyway?"

"December 24th," said Damian.

"Christmas Eve, shouldn't you be in bed, what about Santa?" asked Jason.

"Don't bore me with foolish holiday sentimentality," said Damian, with a
roll of his bright blue eyes.

"You're a strange little fella, Damian," Jason smiled.

Before Damian could offer a reply, Talia and Ra's entered the room, he'd
been gone for over half an hour and his failure to return hadn't gone
unnoticed.

"Damian, there you are," said Talia.

"I see you've met our guest," said Ra's.

"Yes grandfather, this is Jason," said Damian.

"How are you feeling Jason?" asked Ra's, while Talia stood behind her son,
her hand resting protectively on his uninjured shoulder.

"I woke up feeling hungry, but now I'm sorta tired again," said Jason.

"That'll be from the jet lag," Ra's explained, "why don't I show you back
to your room so you can rest?"

"I have a lot of questions," said Jason.

"I'm sure you do my boy, there will be time for that when you've recovered
your strength, come," said Ra's, his arms stretched out graciously.

Jason rose reluctantly and Ra's put his arm around the boy's shoulder, then
guided him towards the door.

"Goodnight Damian," said Jason, then he turned to go with the old man.

"Goodnight Jason," Damian replied.

"Mommy, who was that boy?" asked Damian, once they'd gone.

"Jason is a friend of the family, little one, he's come to us for help,"
said Talia.

"What does he need help with?" asked Damian.

"He was in a terrible accident, he lost his memory," Talia explained,
"grandfather is going to help him recover it."

"I like him," Damian admitted.

"Do you now?" asked Talia.

"He made me a sandwich and he was very interesting to speak with," Damian
explained.

"Then I'm glad you two got the chance to meet," Talia sighed.

"I'm not going to see him again, am I?" asked Damian, making a judgment
from his mother's tone.

"Perhaps someday my darling, but we'll be leaving for London tomorrow and
he'll be staying here with your grandfather while he recovers," said Talia,
"for now, why don't you return to your room, you also need your rest.

"Yes mommy," said Damian, obediently.

"Hey Robbie, can I call you tomorrow morning, there's one last thing I need
to do," said Damian.

"Alright, Merry Christmas, Sweetheart," said Robbie, "I love you."

"Goodnight Robbie," said Damian, then he took a deep breath, "I love you
too."

Damian put on his coat and slipped a wallet sized copy of the picture of he
and his brothers into his inside pocket.  He grabbed his backpack, went
down to the kitchen, where he made a few sandwiches, then slipped out the
back door. It was a cold and snowy night in Gotham City, most of the
criminals were tucked up in their beds and that made it harder for Damian
to find the Red Hood.  Damian was surprised when he found Jason, without
his red mask, simply walking the street.  He didn't let that phase him
though, he stuck to Jason's trail.

Damian followed Jason into a local church and sat in the last pew while
Jason attended the midnight mass.  When the service was over, Damian
blended in with the congregants, then tracked Jason out into the night.
Like the last time he'd encountered Jason, he disappeared into an alley,
then climbed up the fire escape to one of his many safe houses that dotted
Gotham.

Damian didn't hesitate this time, he followed Jason straight up the fire
escape, his footfalls silent as a cat.  When Jason ducked into a 4th floor
window, Damian followed suit and came face to face with a .45 caliber
Glock, the barrel pressed firmly against his forehead.

"Gimme one good reason why I shouldn't pull the trigger," said Jason.

"It's me, Damian," he replied, pulling back his hood.

"I said a good reason," said Jason, as he glared at the boy.

"Well, there's this," Damian offered.

Jason looked down and found Damian holding a butterfly knife, the tip
poised to strike his throat without warning.

"That's better," said Jason, holstering his pistol, "what are you doing
here this time?"

"I brought sandwiches, I thought you might be hungry," said Damian.

Jason knew that there was no getting rid of his little brother when he had
his mind set on something.  He found it terribly annoying, most people were
intimidated by his very presence, Damian, however, acted like he found him
about as threatening as a teddy bear.  Jason flipped on the light switch
and sat down on the mattress, with his back against the wall, the only way
to get rid of the boy would be to let him get whatever it was off his
chest.

"I could eat," said Jason.

Damian sat across from Jason and opened his backpack, he'd made sandwiches
from the left over prime rib and brought along some chips and bottled
water.  They ate quietly for a few minutes, then Jason started talking, he
hoped that the sooner Damian said his peace, the sooner he'd leave.

"I see Alfred still hasn't lost his touch," said Jason, complimenting the
food.

"Dinner was spectacular," Damian observed.

"It usually is, so what made you decide to darken my door tonight?" asked
Jason.

"It's Christmas, I brought you something," said Damian.

"Sorry, I didn't have time to do any shopping, you'll have to consider
those two scumbags my gift," Jason grinned.

Damian knew exactly what he meant.  A few weeks earlier, he'd given Jason
the names and addresses for two men involved in human organ trafficking,
not long after that, they were found shot to death, floating face down in
the river.

"It's alright, that was a most satisfactory present," Damian grinned in
reply.

"Anyway, I brought you this," said Damian, pulling the picture from his
inside pocket.

Jason took the picture, examined it for a moment, then looked up at his
little brother.

"You beat up Santa Claus?" asked Jason.

"He was a fraud, it's a long story," said Damian.

"Right," said Jason.

"I know you and father have your issues but I also know that you've turned
up a time or two to help Grayson and Drake, you even came to save me from
that awful basement," Damian explained, "I thought you might like something
to remember us by."

Jason looked at the picture of his three brothers again, then fished out
his wallet and tucked it inside.  He wasn't about to admit that he was
touched by the gift, but he appreciated the gesture.

"Thanks," said Jason.

"I was wondering if maybe you'd tell me how you became Robin," said Damian.

"Why would you want to know about that?" asked Jason.

"I'm curious about our family," Damian explained.

"Since when, I figured you'd be happy to be rid of all of us, at least
that's the impression I got," said Jason.

"Maybe a few months ago but I'm evolving, I'm starting to like having a
family," Damian admitted.

"Isn't that cute," Jason scoffed.

"Don't get smart, I'm curious about you, that doesn't mean I wouldn't
cripple you for mocking me," Damian threatened.

"Why don't you just go home and ask Bruce?" asked Jason.

"I did, tonight after dinner, we had a long talk, I learned about Grayson
and Drake, but he wasn't comfortable talking about you," said Damian.

"Figures, he thinks I'm his greatest failure," said Jason.

"If you ask me, I think he thinks he failed you, at least that's the
impression I got," said Damian.

"Alright, if you really wanna know," said Jason, "my father was a petty
crook, he went to prison and we never saw him again.  My mother was a
junkie who overdosed and left me alone to steal car parts on the street.
One night I came across the Batmobile parked in an alley, so I stripped it.
I was trying to take the rims when the old Bat caught me."

"You were a common thief?" said Damian.

"Thief, street rat, slum kid, whatever the little princes of the world,
like you, want to call it," said Jason, "anyway, he tried to put me in a
boarding school for punks like me but that didn't work, the head master was
just running the place as a training camp for future convicts.  Eventually
he thought he could channel my anger and made me Robin, then I died."

"Just like that?" said Damian.

"Of course there's more to it, but I'm kind of focused on the dying part,"
said Jason, sarcastically.

"How, how did that happen?" asked Damian, though he knew he was broaching a
sensitive subject.

"I found out my mother wasn't my biological mother.  I tracked down my real
mom; she was an aid worker in Bosnia.  She was a piece of shit too,
embezzling from the program she worked for and the Joker was blackmailing
her.  In order to get out from under his thumb, she handed me over to him,
only to be locked up in a warehouse with me.  He beat me nearly to death,
with a crowbar, then blew the place to kingdom come," Jason spat.

"I'm sorry Todd, that really is terrible," said Damian, "is that why you
hate father, because he didn't save you?"

"No, that was my fault, he warned me but I didn't listen, I thought I could
help my mother and she just betrayed me," said Jason.

"Then why do..." Damian began.

"Because, the Joker is still out there, breathing fresh air.  He killed me,
me and God knows how many more.  Bruce claimed to love me, made me his son
but he lets that sick, twisted, death merchant roam free?  Sure he puts him
away from time to time but never for long, where is the justice in that?"
said Jason.

"It's hard to see any," Damian agreed.

Damian had accepted his father's rules about killing but he understood
Jason's pain.  If anyone hurt his family, Bruce's rules be damned, Damian
knew in his heart that as disciplined as he was, it wouldn't be enough to
prevent him from striking down the perpetrator.

"What happened after..." Damian started.

"After I died?" said Jason, "I don't know, I was dead."

"You know what I mean," said Damian.

"I woke up in a coffin," said Jason, in a subdued tone, "I had to claw and
fight my way out of it, and 6 feet of dirt."

"Why didn't you go home, let them help you?"

"I didn't know where home was," said Jason, "I didn't even know who I was,
I ended up walking the streets of Gotham, like I had in my past life,
stealing to get by."

"That's when we first met, isn't it?" said Damian.

"I didn't think you remembered," said Jason.

"I didn't, until tonight, it's been four years, and you're different now."

"Different how?" asked Jason, curiously.

"You were still a boy then, and you were scared, not so angry," Damian
explained.

"I wasn't scared," Jason objected.

"Yes you were, I could smell it, but that's no judgment on you.  After
everything you'd been through, then to be plucked from the streets and
brought to that castle, you would have been a fool not to be frightened,"
said Damian.

"Your mother told me your grandfather could help me," Jason explained.

"He put you in one of the rejuvenation pits, didn't he?" asked Damian.

"He helped me to remember who I was, helped me get some training and then I
decided to come back here and fight crime the way I wanted, without Bruce's
rules.  One day I'll get my hands on the Joker and I will kill him," said
Jason.

"To think, all that time I was sitting there with my big brother and didn't
know it," said Damian.

"There wasn't any way to know then, I didn't know who I was, let alone who
you were," said Jason.

"Mommy and grandfather could have told me," said Damian.

"Would it have made any difference?" asked Jason, "you're a real Wayne, I'm
just adopted."

"We'll never know, will we?  Thank you for sharing that with me," said
Damian, as he stood up.

"Leaving so soon?" asked Jason.

"Hardly," Damian replied, as he stripped down to his socks and underpants.

"What are you doing?" asked Jason.

"It's late, I'm too tired to walk home, I'm sleeping here," said Damian, as
he slipped under the covers of Jason's bed.

"Oh, just make yourself at home," said Jason, sarcastically.

"Thank you," Damian mumbled, then closed his eyes.

Jason couldn't believe the boy's brazenness, but he also realized there
wasn't much he could do about it.  After a moment's hesitation, Jason
stripped down, shut out the light, then climbed into bed with his little
brother.  The bed wasn't very big, so Jason spooned behind Damian and put
his arms around his waist.

It had been a long time since Jason had been this close to another human
being and he didn't realize, until that moment, how badly he missed that
kind of touch.  He stroked the soft skin under Damian's belly button, then
moved his hands along the boys abdomen and chest, stroked down his arms and
placed his hands on his hips.  Damian may have been a growing, athletic boy
but his skin was still soft, smooth and supple, his waist narrow and his
buttocks firm, he even smelled good. Jason couldn't help himself, he leaned
in and kissed the boy where his neck and shoulder met.

"That tickles," Damian giggled.

"Damn it, Damian," spluttered a startled Jason, "were you awake the whole
time?"

"Yes," Damian giggled.

"God damn it," Jason swore and pulled away.

Damian rolled over so that he could face Jason, he put his arms around his
rugged, uncouth big brother and nestled in close, resting his head on
Jason's powerful chest.

"Put your arms around me," Damian ordered.

"There, now just go to sleep," said Damian, once Jason complied.

Jason fell into a deep sleep, cradling the lithe boy against his chest and,
for the first time in a long time, he actually rested.  When Damian woke in
the morning, he stretched in the predawn light, extricated himself from
Jason and quickly put on his clothes.  He was glad he'd come to see Jason
and was determined to find some way to reconcile his father and wayward
brother.  Before he left, he bent over Jason and kissed him on the
forehead, then disappeared as silently as he'd arrived.