Archive of Our Own

“Robin, what have they done to you?”

Nothing quite seemed to register in Robin’s mind.  He was vaguely aware that Batman was speaking to him, but it sounded so far away, like he was at the end of the long tunnel.  He didn’t even know where Batman was, couldn’t see him.  He couldn’t focus on anything.  Robin almost thought he must be dreaming, because his head felt strange and swimmy.  It was that same feeling he remembered when he’d had a bad fever as a child and his mother had given him cold medicine. Fever- and cold medicine-induced delirium.   He didn’t currently feel sick, so he had to be dreaming, didn’t he?

He didn’t even remember leaving the room where Batman was or how much time had passed since then.  The next thing he knew was that the Sandman told him he alone had killed Batman before everything faded out for him again.  When Robin really began to realize what was happening, the Catwoman was forcing him into her maze.

It was like waking up after that long bout of fever as a child, the way everything still felt a little off and surreal.  As he wandered around in that maze, things slowly began to become clearer, little things falling back into his memory, fading into existence.  The one thing that stood out to him, however, was the Sandman’s voice when he’d said Robin had killed Batman:

"It was you who did it.”

He had to be lying, didn’t he?  It wouldn’t be out of the realm of possibilities that a criminal would lie, after all.  But then, little by little, Robin began to recall pulling a lever of some sort.  A lever for what, he wasn’t sure, but then most horrifyingly of all, Robin’s own voice thundered in his head:

“He’s dead.  I pushed the switch that killed him.”

It couldn’t be true.  It couldn’t.  Robin would have died before he did anything to hurt Batman.  Before he did anything to hurt his guardian, the man who had taken him in and virtually saved his life when he felt like he’d lost everything.  But then Batman’s voice came echoing back to him:

“Robin, what have they done to you?”

Robin placed his palms flat against his temples, his fingers gripping his hair.  “What’s happening to me?” Robin whispered aloud, although there was no one around to hear him.

The memory of Batman’s words chilled him to the bone, and he couldn’t help but wonder if the Sandman was telling him the truth.   Were those the very last words Batman had ever said?  If Robin didn’t know any better, he might have thought that Mr. Freeze was just around the corner with his freeze ray, because Robin couldn’t remember ever feeling quite so cold in his entire life.  Only the feeling wasn’t coming from the room itself, it was coming from within.  It was so cold inside his chest that it was becoming painful.  That alone told him that Batman was gone from this world, didn’t it?

“Batman,” Robin said, his voice cracking.

He wrapped his arms around himself, even though he knew that wouldn’t do anything to stem the storm inside his chest.  A part of him wanted to simply lie down and curl up in a ball so that he could forget this entire day had ever happened.  Was this really the day he lost Bruce?  The day he had killed Bruce.  The one and only thing in his life that kept him going sometimes.  The one and only thing that seemed to bring him back to life – after his parents had died.  Only this was worse, because this time, it had all been Robin’s fault.  They had made him do it, and he’d done nothing to stop it.

What was he going to do?  He couldn’t imagine going home, returning to the Batcave and not having Batman there.  What would he tell Alfred?  How could he even face the man that had become like a grandfather to him and tell him that he had killed Bruce?  What would they tell Aunt Harriet?  Not to mention, Robin feared that Batman’s secret identity wouldn’t be so secret anymore.  Surely it would come out that both Batman and Bruce Wayne died at the same time on the same day.  Someone would put two and two together.  It was only a matter of time before Robin’s identity was figured out as well, and how would he explain that to Aunt Harriet?

Robin’s world was about to be turned upside-down, and this was only the beginning.  Yes, lying down here in the maze and waiting for death to slowly claim him seemed so much easier than what surely awaited him outside of this maze.  In a world without Batman.  Without Bruce.  Robin would be lost – so much more than he was in this maze.

But deep down, Robin knew he couldn’t give up.  Not like he had nearly done after his parents had died.  Bruce had rescued him from that and made sure he kept going.  Besides, Batman would never give up and more than anything, Robin wanted to be like his guardian.  That urge was stronger than any fears he had, stronger than the pain in his chest, and the feeling of hopelessness that threatened to claim him.

He had to keep going for Batman.  For Bruce.  For the man who had helped to give him his life back once upon a time.  He didn’t want Bruce’s efforts to be for naught.  Didn’t want to let his guardian down, so he pressed on.

Batman had always told him that in the heat of the moment, it was best to push any emotions as far away as he could.  Negative feelings would only take his mind away from the task at hand, and there would always be time to process such things later.  Just like he had done when his parents had died, he tried to push any thoughts of Bruce as far down as they would go.  They weren’t gone, but they would have to stay hidden for a while.  The only thing that was left was the huge gaping hole that had formed in his chest.  A black hole of emotion.

Robin had no idea where to start to try and find his way out of the maze, but he knew there had to be a way.  Catwoman had told him that it could take a lifetime to find the exit, but there had to be some sort of logic to it.  It had been designed, after all.  It hadn’t just come into existence.  If there was a clear path to the exit, then it had to be planned…like a house or a public building.  One didn’t construct something without any rhyme or reason – unless your name was Sarah Winchester.  Robin remembered reading about the heiress to the Winchester rifle fortune who had built a sprawling mansion that was so disorganized, it had doors and windows that opened to nowhere, and a staircase that led into a ceiling.  Its layout was so convoluted, it had become known as the Winchester Mystery House.

Dick had been so fascinated with the house that Bruce had promised to take him to see it one day.  Now that was something he would never have a chance to do.

But this wasn’t the Winchester Mystery House.  It was a normal, average, everyday maze.  Therefore, there had to be some sort of solution to it.  Robin just had to figure out what it was.  He slowed his steps, taking a moment to look around at his surroundings, to eye the chain-link panels of the maze itself, and then up towards the ceiling where fences abruptly ended.

It occurred to Robin that he could possibly climb up one of the fences to get a better look around at the layout, but no.  The Catwoman’s maze was electrified, and he had already gotten shocked more than once on the metal.  Still, there had to be something he could climb to get a better vantage point.

Before he could ponder this further, however, he ran into what he never expected to find there – another human being.  It turned out to be Policewoman Mooney who had gone undercover as the Catwoman’s apprentice, Caterina.  She had failed, just as Robin had, and it was his duty to deliver the horrible news that everyone in Gotham City would have to hear sooner or later:

“I’m afraid it’s over for the Caped Crusader.”

It didn’t feel real to Robin, even after he said it.  He imagined he would still always be looking over his shoulder, expecting to find Bruce there, looking out for him like he always had.  Expecting to see Bruce sitting in his study or the living room at Wayne Manor, reading a book or playing chess.  Expecting to see Batman climbing into the Batmobile just like always.

But that was something Robin would never experience again, and he didn’t know if he was ready for that.  If he was ready to face this world without his guardian by his side.  But then…Robin began to question his sanity, because he saw something he knew couldn’t be real.

It was Batman running through the maze in a fury, trying to find him, his deep blue cape flaring out behind him.  But it couldn’t be real and Robin knew that.  This didn’t make any sense.

“Robin!” this strange Batman imposter said, racing over to him.  “Robin, are you okay?  Speak to me!”

Robin shook his head, but it wasn’t in response to Batman’s question.  Rather, it was to clear his head, because he wasn’t sure what was happening anymore.  Was this a vision?  A desperate need on Robin’s part to see his guardian coming to help him?  Worse yet, was this one of the villains’ sidekicks in disguise, perhaps deciding to finish the job and get rid of the Dynamic Duo once and for all?  It wouldn’t be the first time such a thing had happened, and Robin was sure it wouldn’t be the last.

Robin backed away as he choked out, “No.”  His hands went to his utility belt, wondering if he should throw some Batgas and run for it with Policewoman Mooney.  “It can’t be you.  You’re dead.”  He paused for a very long time before glancing back over his shoulder at his silent companion.  When he turned back to…whoever this was, Robin whispered, “They told me I killed you.”

He didn’t exactly think it was prudent to mention that fact in front of a police officer, but Robin didn’t know what else to do.  He could have just been losing his mind – unhinged by another unspeakable loss that no one should have to face.  Especially not on top of the loss of his parents.

Batman took several steps towards him and said, “No, you didn’t.   I’m not dead.”  He reached out to grip Robin’s shoulders and added, “It’s me, chum.  It’s me.”

Robin shook his head again and squeezed his eyes shut.  Oh god, it sounded like Bruce – his warm and steady tone that always managed to make Robin feel better, no matter what kind of chaos they were in.  His eyes were Bruce’s too – large and brown that felt like they could look into Robin’s very soul.  This man had even called Robin ‘chum’.  That made Robin want to believe him, but it wouldn’t be completely out of the question for one of the bad guys to know Batman’s nickname for him, would it?

He didn’t know what to think.  Perhaps somewhere along the line of being turned into one of the Sandman’s sleepwalkers and sustaining a few electric shocks, Robin had lost his mind.  Maybe the Sandman’s drug had some sort of adverse effect on him and he didn’t know what was happening anymore.

Robin considered just throwing punches at this imposter and running for his life, because this certainly wasn’t going to go anywhere good.  Robin lifted up his arms and threw them outwards, bringing them down hard against his captor’s arms.

That quite didn’t work like Robin had planned, because this man held onto his shoulders even more tightly.  “Ask me something!” Batman ordered.

Robin attempted to throw the man off again, thrusting his hands into Batman’s chest.  The man held fast, his grip only slipping a little bit on Robin’s shoulders before tightening again.  Robin wasn’t quite sure what this man meant at first – to ask him something.  Robin’s mind was too addled with hurt, and anger, and confusion to process anything else.  It wasn’t unlike what he had felt like after his parents had died, so he supposed that made sense.  It was the only thing that did.

Then Batman clarified, his voice much softer this time, “Ask me something only I would know the answer to.”

Robin sucked in a soft breath of hope, because surely one of the enemies wouldn’t tell him to do this.  It would be way too easy to figure out if this was really Batman or not.  But then Robin’s mouth fell open, because he wasn’t quite sure what in the world he could ask.  They weren’t alone, after all, so anything he asked couldn’t accidentally reveal their secret identities.  Taking a few breaths to try and calm himself, Robin thought back over the events that had led up to this moment.  He remembered where they had been when they had first realized there was trouble – in the mountains with the Bat-signal shining high in the sky.

Holding Batman’s gaze, Robin firmly asked, “When this all started – when we saw the Bat-signal in the sky – what did I hear?”  Robin’s eyes were wide and pleading, hoping against hope that this man would answer the question correctly.

“Ringing,” Batman responded without missing a beat.  “In your ears.  ‘To the Batpoles.’”

Robin’s bottom lip began shaking, so he pressed his mouth closed to stop it.  For all the good that did, because he only ended up sucking in a shaky breath instead.  A part of him had thought that he’d never again hear Bruce say those words to him.  “’To the Batpoles,’” Robin echoed, because this was Batman.  This was his guardian who was still here to stand by his side, to look over his shoulder, to help him, and to guide him.  It was Bruce.  His Bruce.

Batman nodded softly before he repeated, “It’s me, chum.  It’s me.”

“Batman,” Robin whimpered, and he suddenly didn’t care if they had an audience or not.  He pushed himself up off the floor and threw himself into Batman’s arms.  He stretched up as far as he could, wrapping his arms around Batman’s neck and hanging on for dear life.  Robin fisted his hands in the back of Batman’s cape, the satin fabric sliding between his gloved fingers.

He could feel Batman’s arms around his shoulders, hugging him back tightly, and Robin’s crazy mixed up world seemed to right itself once more.

Dick jerked awake, his breath coming in hard and heavy gasps, beads of sweat standing out on his forehead.  Even though his dream had ended in the best possible place, it was still like living through one of the two worst experiences in his life.  Dick’s room was pitch black and for once, he wished he had gone to sleep with a light on.  He really didn’t like not being able to see anything, not being able to tell if there was something lurking in the dark corners.

At first, he was almost afraid to move, paralyzed with fear, his limbs frozen to the mattress.  All at once, he forced himself to be brave, to move before those things in the blackness could come out and grab him.  He sat up like a bolt of lightning and dove for his bedside lamp.  Turning the switch, the room was flooded with a yellowish pool of light.  Dick turned around, grabbing his comforter in his sweaty fists, checking to make sure that the room was empty.

It was.  Everything was still and quiet, and nothing seemed out of place.  Even his bookbag was still hanging on the back of his desk chair, his shoes sat nearly in the corner, and the book he had been trying to read earlier in the night sat on his bedside table.  Everything seemed to be in its place, but still, he couldn’t shake the feeling that something wasn’t right.  That someone was perhaps waiting in his closet for the opportunity to jump out at him, trying to put him in some sort of trance again.  One that would make him try and kill Bruce for a second time.

Throwing his covers aside, Dick lowered his feet to the floor and glanced at the clock on his beside table.  It was just going on midnight and Bruce might still be awake.  He usually stayed up after Dick had gone to bed, either reading or going over paperwork for the Wayne Foundation.  Then again, it had been a long and trying day for both of them, so maybe he had fallen asleep early.

Either way, there were times when Dick needed Bruce more than anything in the world, and this was one of those times.  Even if he had to wake Bruce up, Dick didn’t think he would be too bothered by it once he saw how upset Dick was.  Bruce had always told Dick that he was available to talk whenever necessary.  Yes, that had mostly been when Dick had just moved in and he was heavily struggling with his parents’ deaths, but Dick thought that offer still stood now.

Dick made his way to his door and opened it.  Wayne Manor was completely silent, but the overhead lamp was still burning in the hallway.  It was always left on at night.  He could see Bruce’s door from where he was;  it sat just across the corridor on the opposite corner.  This was why Dick had chosen this room for himself when he first came to live at Wayne Manor; Bruce made him feel safe and he liked being able to see Bruce’s door from his own.

The light was still on underneath Bruce’s door, throwing a pool of light on the floor, so Dick figured he was probably still awake.  There was the off-chance that he had simply fallen asleep with the light on, but Bruce didn’t seem to do that very often given the fact that he liked to conserve electricity as much as possible.

Carefully creeping across the plush maroon carpet, Dick made his way towards Bruce’s door.  His socks made swishing sounds against the rug, and his eyes darted around the hallway, keeping on the lookout for anything or anyone out of the ordinary.  Dick knew no one was there, but he couldn’t quite shake the feeling that someone was still coming to get him.  Someone bigger and stronger than he was who would make him do horrible things to Batman.

God, he wanted Bruce.

Nearly sprinting across the last few feet to Bruce’s door, Dick knocked sharply on the polished wooden surface.  “Bruce?” he asked timidly.

Only silence met his ears for several seconds and Dick stood frozen, wondering he if should wake Bruce up or return to his own room.  After all, Bruce would still be available to talk in the morning once he had gotten a good night’s sleep.  But one glance back at his own room made Dick feel cold and empty, and he couldn’t imagine trying to go back to sleep now.

Just then, however, came Bruce’s gentle voice from the other side of the door.  “Dick?”

Dick wasted no time in wrenching the door open and sticking his head in Bruce’s room.  “Can I come in?” he whispered.

Bruce was sitting on his bed, leaning back against a stack of pillows against his headboard, his legs stretched out in front of him.  He had a book open in his lap which he closed with a snap at Dick’s question.  “Of course you can,” he said, setting his book on his bedside table.  “Do you want to talk about what happened today?”

Swallowing audibly, Dick nodded and stepped farther into the room as he shut the door behind him.  It always made things seem a little bit better when Bruce could tell what was bothering Dick, even when he didn’t articulate his thoughts.

When Dick didn’t offer anything else, Bruce said, “I thought you might.”  He sat up straighter on the bed and scooted down the mattress.  He patted the bed next to him and said, “Come sit down.”

Dick crossed the room and dropped down onto the mattress, but he only sat and stared at the door.  He suddenly wasn’t sure how to voice his thoughts; so many were fighting for space in his mind, and he didn’t know which one to bring up first, but sometimes just sitting in Bruce’s presence was enough.  Just then, however, Bruce began to speak, and Dick was grateful that he took the initiative to fill the silence.

“I know so much happened today,” Bruce said slowly, “and we weren’t able to discuss it at the time.  Then we got home and…you didn’t bring it up.  But I figured you just weren’t ready.”

“I guess not,” Dick said.  He couldn’t bring himself to meet Bruce’s eyes and he wasn’t sure why.  He never really had a hard time looking his guardian in the eye before, except for when things between them weren’t on the best of terms.  But truth be told, he knew exactly what was bothering him.  He just didn’t know if he had the courage to bring it up.

Bruce turned to face Dick fully, curling up one of his legs on the mattress while he let his other foot dangle to the floor.  He didn’t push Dick to talk and he never did.  He always waited until Dick felt completely ready, and Dick loved that about his guardian.

It reminded Dick of when he had first moved into Wayne Manor, and he had originally been so closed off from Bruce.  It had taken him so very long to start sharing his thoughts and feelings with his guardian, and it had taken even longer for him to open up about things like his parents.  Still, Bruce had never pushed him, but had simply let Dick know that he would always listen if he did want to talk.  That was something that carried through on their relationship until this day.

“Bruce?” Dick finally asked after nearly a minute.  He didn’t say anything else right away, running his thumb along the hem of the sleeve of his pajama top.  “I’m so sorry,” he forced himself to blurt out before he could lose his nerve.

Dick could feel his face flush with warmth at the words, an uncomfortable sensation in his stomach quickly growing to consume him.  He hated this.  He hated that he felt this way around his guardian, and that he had to apologize for things that he had been forced to do.  Still, he felt even worse that he had allowed himself to be controlled in the first place and for that, he did need to apologize.

Almost immediately, Bruce brought his hand up to rest it on Dick’s back, rubbing small circles across the fabric of his shirt.  “Nothing about this is your fault,” Bruce said.  “It wasn’t you pulling that switch.  I know that.”

“But I feel like…” Dick started, but then he trailed off.  After a moment, he tried, “Shouldn’t I have been – I don’t know – strong enough to resist it?”  Dick glanced up at Bruce, blinking back the sudden tears that had begun to form in his eyes.  “You’re the most important thing in the world to me and I never would have done that on purpose.  I should have…been able to realize what I was doing and stopped it.”

“It was a mind control drug, Dick,” Bruce told him.  “Its purpose is to wipe your mind of any inhibitions or reservations you might have and make you extremely susceptible to suggestion.  I’m not sure even I could have resisted it had I been subjected to it.”

“But I did what he told me so…easily,” Dick said, his voice cracking on the last word.  He hung head, frowning deeply at the deep blue rug just beneath his feet.  “Like you meant nothing to me,” he said so quietly, his voice barely above a whisper, but Bruce heard him.  Bruce always heard him.

Dick’s eyes burned and he squeezed his them shut, trying to will the tears away.  But his efforts proved to be fruitless, because tears began to escape his eyes to trail down his cheeks anyway.  If Dick couldn’t even control his tears, how did he ever think he could have resisted the Sandman’s mind control drug?

Bruce moved his hand across Dick’s back to grip his far shoulder.  He pulled Dick against him, wrapping his other arm around the boy and gently kissing the top of Dick’s head.  “It wasn’t you,” he whispered into Dick’s hair.  “I know you never would have done such a thing.”

Bruce always made it so easy to apologize.  He never hesitated to forgive Dick for anything, and this thought caused Dick’s bottom lip to begin quivering as he leaned heavily into Bruce’s chest.  He covered his eyes with one of his hands, his other formed into a fist into his lap.  His fingernails digging into the palm of his hand, Dick tried his hardest to hold the sobs in, but they started to explode out of him, his back wracked with the force.

“It’s okay,” Bruce told him softly.  He ran one of his hands up and down Dick’s arm, rocking him gently.  “You can let it out if you need to.  Remember what I told you when you first came to live with me?  It’s okay to cry.  It’s not a sign of weakness, but a normal and healthy way for us to release our emotions.”

As much as he tried to hold onto his sobs, Bruce’s words finally made the dam burst.  Everything that Dick had been keeping inside for the last twelve hours made itself known.  He curled in against Bruce’s chest, crying harder than he thought he had ever cried before.  Perhaps even when his parents died.  He wasn’t sure.

When he had lost his parents, it had been such a shock.  Everything had happened so fast and he didn’t feel like he had been able to process his grief until much later.  He’d felt so hollow for such a long time after, he had been numb.  To everything.  It wasn’t until he’d met Bruce and had grown closer to him that Dick began to truly feel things again.  The tears had finally come then, but perhaps not as heavy as they would have been immediately after.

But this was so very recent and raw.  Dick had been doing nothing but trying to process this since he and Batman had returned to the Batcave earlier that evening.  It hung like a heavy storm cloud over him, ready to let go at any moment.  It had almost taken everything in him to get through dinner without letting Aunt Harriet onto the fact that anything was amiss.  Moreover, it had been even harder once his aunt had sprung the idea on them about putting a maze in the garden.  Thank god Bruce had seen fit to talk her out of it, because Dick didn’t think he could stomach to look at such a thing given everything that went along with it.

Dick was also thankful that Bruce never shied away from letting Dick cry.  Didn’t care about tear stains on his clothes.  He knew Bruce was right – that it was a very human thing to cry – but Dick still sometimes felt silly and stupid for it.  As it was, Bruce was no stranger to tears, having gone through his own grieving process over his parents.  Dick sometimes wondered how many sleepless nights Alfred had stayed up with Bruce, telling the young boy the very same things.

Dick wasn’t even sure how long he ended up crying.  All he knew was that he did what Bruce had said – let it out until he felt completely spent.  Until there were no more tears left to cry.  Then he stayed slumped against Bruce until the position grew to be uncomfortable.

When Dick straightened up, he rubbed at his swollen eyes, at the streaks his tears had left on his cheeks.  He sniffled quietly, not able to meet Bruce’s eyes again, and he really wasn’t sure why.  He never had a problem looking his guardian in the eye.  Maybe it was because Dick still hadn’t brought up what was really on his mind – that great big elephant in the room.

“Here,” Bruce said.  He momentarily let go of Dick while he reached for a tissue from the box on his bedside table.  When he handed it to Dick, he returned to rubbing Dick’s back, running soothing strokes up and down his shirt.

Once Dick blew his nose and rubbed at his eyes some more, he took a deep breath and let it out slowly, trying his best to regain his composure after such an emotional outburst.  He had returned his eyes to the floor, wondering if things between him and his guardian would ever be the same again.

“You don’t know how afraid I was when I thought…” Dick said, trailing off as the words died in his throat.

“I think I do,” Bruce replied.  “I could tell with how hard you hugged me in the maze when you figured out it was really me.”

Dick hunched over, resting his elbows on his knees.  He pressed his wadded up tissue into a tight ball, kneading it with his fingertips.  “It was like the night my parents died all over again,” he said.  “There was this big black hole…here.”  He brought a hand to his chest, pushing it against the front of his nightshirt.  “It hurt, but…it felt so empty at the same time.”  Pausing for a very long time, Dick finally added, “Only it was different, because it was my-“

“No, it wasn’t,” Bruce cut him off gently, because he knew exactly what Dick had been about to say.  “Dick, nothing about that was your fault.”  Using his free hand, Bruce cupped Dick’s far cheek, pulling against it until Dick turned his head and met Bruce’s eyes.  “Listen to me.  That wasn’t you,” he said, enunciating each word. 

“What was I like…when I…?” Dick asked, unable to finish the sentence,

“Emotionless,” Bruce answered.  “Cold.  Stiff.  Empty.  Nothing about that was you.”  He let go of Dick’s cheek, falling into silence as he let his young ward ponder his words.

Dick’s eyes returned to the floor, because it felt safer down there.  Not as…noticeable.  “Bruce?” he asked quietly after a moment.

“Yes, Dick?”

“You said you know I would never do such a thing.”

“Indeed I do.”

“Even after you saw me do it?”

“Always.”

That was when Dick finally looked up again, because Bruce’s voice was unwaveringly firm, and Dick wanted to see it on his face too.  Wanted to see it in his guardian’s deep brown eyes that always felt so king and honest.

“How did you know?” Dick asked.  “How did you know that it wasn’t really me?  I mean, if I decided to do something like that…my manner could have just been for show.”

A moment of silence passed, and when he spoke again, Bruce’s voice was barely above a whisper.  “After I escaped…I talked to the Commissioner and…he more or less asked me the same question.”

Dick only watched him, waiting for him to go on.  He didn’t want to break the feeling that had settled in the room – one of immense camaraderie and honesty.  It almost made the atmosphere feel thick, but it wasn’t uncomfortable.  It was warm and comforting, like that hug Bruce had given him back in the maze.

“He asked,” Bruce went on, sighing, “if he needed to send some officers to apprehend you.”

Dick used his balled-up tissue to wipe away the errant tear that had escaped his eye.  He supposed this wasn’t much of a surprise.  Of course the police would be concerned about Robin’s actions, especially if they hadn’t been there to actually see what happened.

“I told him absolutely not,” Bruce said.  “I said, ’I know Robin too well to believe he’d ever betray me and embrace a life of crime.’”

Dick straightened up, eyeing Bruce closely.  “You said that?”

Bruce nodded once.  “Those exact words.”  Bruce smiled at him warmly.  “You’re my partner, Dick.  That never would have happened in the first place if I didn’t trust you implicitly.”

“I guess,” Dick replied.  “I just…I never really thought about it before.”

Bruce scoffed at Dick’s words.  “How long have we known each other?”

“Four years.”

“You haven’t thought about how well we know each other?  About the fact that we have to trust each other immensely to work together as Batman and Robin?”

“No, I know we do,” Dick told him, pressing at his tissue even more, pushing it into an even tighter ball.  He wasn’t even sure how much longer it would stay in one piece.  “At least, I like to think we do.  I mean…you know me better than anyone.  And…other than my parents, I’ve never been this close to anyone in my life.  But…you’re Batman.”’

“Yes,” Bruce agreed, but then he fell into silence.  “What’s what supposed to mean?”

If Dick wasn’t mistaken, he thought he caught the slightest accusatory hint in Bruce’s voice.  He couldn’t blame Bruce, because perhaps his comment had been a little backhanded, although he hadn’t meant it that way.  He would never say something even remotely hurtful to Bruce on purpose.

“Just…you’re so stoic,” Dick explained.  “I know you have to keep a lot of yourself hidden.  It must be exhausting.  Or is it second nature by now?”  Dick watched Bruce closely as he waited for an answer.

Bruce took a deep breath, letting it out slowly.  “A little bit of both.  It is second nature in a lot of ways, but…you’re right.  I don’t think it’ll ever stop being exhausting.  The bravado of Batman, the pretense of Bruce Wayne – yes, it’s tiring.  Alfred was the only one I could ever truly be myself with, and coming home to him, knowing I could let my walls down was such a relief.  A release.  And I’ll never stop being grateful that Alfred could be that person for me.  That I had a person like that at all.”  Bruce broke off, his gaze going to the door and then down to the mattress between them.  “Well, that used to be the case.”

Dick frowned deeply.  “What do you mean?”

“Alfred isn’t the only person anymore,” Bruce replied.  “There are now two people in this world that know the real me.  One of them is Alfred.”  Bruce didn’t say anything more and he didn’t need to.

The gravity of what exactly Bruce was saying sat heavily in Dick’s chest.  It wasn’t an uncomfortable feeling, not like before, but one of completeness and fullness.  Sort of how you felt after a warm and satisfying dinner on a cool evening.

Dick asked for clarification anyway.  “Me?”  He flinched slightly at the way his voice cracked on the word.

“Of course you,” Bruce said.  His hand was still on Dick’s back, but Bruce brought it up to his shoulder now, squeezing it firmly.  “How many other people do you think I spend this much time with?  How many other people know I’m Batman?  It would be a little hard to keep hiding myself from you.”

Dick shook his head, trying to make sense out of it.  He knew that Bruce spoke the truth; Bruce would never lie to him about such a thing, but it seemed to sit just outside of Dick’s realm of understanding.  “But…I’m just a kid.”

“My son,” Bruce corrected.  “And my partner.  You’re not just…anything, Dick.  You’re…well, not quite everything to me, but pretty close to it.  You, and Alfred, and Aunt Harriet – you’re my family.  And you and Alfred know me.  You know the real me.  Not…a mask I put on when I step outside.  When we sit here and talk like this…this is me.  This is Bruce Wayne as he actually is without any walls around him.”  Bruce was quiet for a moment, letting his words sink in.  “Did you think you weren’t getting the real me?”

“Maybe?” Dick asked sheepishly.  “Sometimes.  It’s hard to tell with you.”

“Okay,” Bruce said, nodding his head as he considered this.  “Maybe that was true once upon a time, but…how long have you known I’m Batman?”

“Three years.”

“And that was where any lies and false pretenses between us ended,” Bruce said.  “I’ve been nothing but myself with you since then.  You know my deepest, darkest secret.  There’s nothing else I couldn’t tell you.”

Dick sighed.  “I’m sorry.  I didn’t mean to imply that I didn’t think you were being truthful with me.  Like I said, it’s hard to tell with you sometimes.”

Bruce thought about this for a moment before he said, “Perhaps my stoicism gives off that impression sometimes.  It’s habit by now, I suppose.  I became that way after my parents died.  It wasn’t a conscious choice.  Not that Alfred didn’t try and make it easier for me, but…I’m Bruce Wayne.  It almost seemed like I had to…be a certain way.  I don’t know.”  He dropped his hand from Dick’s back, focusing instead on the bedspread again.  “And then when I became Batman…that feeling intensified.  I felt like I couldn’t be any other way.”

“I can understand that,” Dick said.  He turned on the mattress, mirroring Bruce’s position by bringing one leg up to rest it on the mattress.  “That’s how I was a lot after my parents died, because I felt like I had to hide it from the other children.  Most of them didn’t lose both parents.  Not the way I did anyway.  Not the way we did.  And a lot of them had parents that were simply unfit.  They didn’t know what it was like.”

Bruce’s hand found Dick’s shoulder again.  “A lot of people don’t, chum.”

Dick sniffled quietly before he said, “I felt like I couldn’t show them.  Because it was so…ugly.  They didn’t need to see how awful this world could be.  So I kept everything inside.  I shut down.”

“I know,” Bruce said, squeezing Dick’s shoulder.  “That shell of a boy I met on the first day of summer four years ago isn’t even a fraction of the young man you’ve grown into.  You’re so enthusiastic, and excitable, and emotional, and – dare I say – happy.  I love that about you.  All things I had no idea even existed in you when we first met.  And…perhaps this is who I could have been in another life.”

‘You made it safe for me to let all those things out,” Dick said.  He leaned forward, meeting Bruce’s eyes like he hadn’t been able to since this horrific day had begun.  “You broke down my walls and…I was able to discover who I was again.  Who I used to be before I lost my parents.  And yes, Bruce.  I’m happy.  Happier than I’ve been since…my whole world was pulled out from under me.”

Silence fell between them that was warm and comforting, and Dick wondered if their conversation was over.  Bruce had assuaged his fears as much as Dick thought possible, so he didn’t think it necessary to break this closeness that had grown to envelope them.  But then Bruce spoke again.

“And there’s another answer to your question.”

Dick shook his head, because he wasn’t even sure what Bruce was referring to.  “What question?”

“When you asked how I knew that person pulling that switch wasn’t you,” Bruce explained.  “Sure, you could have been pretending, but I know it’s hard for you completely bury yourself like that now.  This is you.”  Bruce moved his hand from Dick’s shoulder, placing it over his heart.  “This is Dick Grayson.  Not that cold, emotionless husk I saw in the Sandman’s lair.  You haven’t been that way for a long time.  This Dick Grayson feels things.  This Dick Grayson gets happy, and excited, and upset, and angry, and he loves, and he cries.”

Something dawned on Dick all at once.  His mouth opened in surprise, his eyes grew wide.  “He couldn’t cry,” he gasped.  “That’s why…you let – even encouraged – me to cry earlier.  Because if I ever did anything as horrible as betray you, if I willingly tried to…kill you, I never would have been able to forgive myself.  I would have broken down…then and there.  Or I would have shown…something.  You knew that.  And that’s how you knew it wasn’t me.  Because he couldn’t cry.”

“That’s how I knew it wasn’t you,” Bruce agreed.  He gripped both of Dick’s shoulders and said, “I never want you to be afraid to show your emotions.  Well, except for when certain circumstances call for it,” Bruce corrected.  “But when at all possible, especially when it’s just us, let yourself feel, Dick.  That’s what makes you different from any of the people we may fight.  They’re the ones who can do despicable things without a shred of emotion.  But not you.  Okay?”

Dick’s bottom lip began to tremble again and this time, he did nothing to stop it.  He thought that he had cried all he could tonight, but apparently not.  Tears welled up in his eyes at Bruce’s words, and he didn’t try to blink them back.  He let them come, and he only nodded before he threw himself into Bruce’s arms just like he had back in the maze.  His hands bunched up in the back of Bruce’s silk pajama top and he squeezed his arms around Bruce’s shoulders, perhaps holding on for dear life.

“I love you, Bruce.”

Bruce wrapped his arms around Dick’s shoulders, hugging him back just as fiercely.  For the first time that day, everything felt all right again.  It was starkly different from the hug they had shared in the maze.  That one had been fueled by an overwhelming combination of fear and relief, but this was one of love and acceptance.  Acceptance on Dick’s part that things had happened that had been beyond his control, but things which Bruce wouldn’t hold against him.  On top of that was the knowledge of one thing – that Bruce would never give up on him, even when Dick wanted to give up on himself.

“I love you too, Dick."