Dedicated to: Desiree and Jon Boring, who are my Dynamic Duo.

It is also dedicated to: Val Kilmer, Chris O'Donnell, and Michael Gough, who are, to this author, the embodiments of the characters they portray.

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As I roamed the wide corridors of Wayne Manor, I knew that I didn't belong in this strange house. I belonged with the circus, in which I'd spent all of my life. I had learned to fly like a robin there, under the watchful eyes of my family.

The nightmare still plagues me, the one in which my family dies at the hands of Two-Face. His face still haunts my every waking moment while the spirits of my family cried out for vengeance. They would continue to do so until I laid them to rest with the death of Two-Face by my own hands.

After their funeral, I agreed to stay with this millionaire friend of the police commissioner in order to avoid becoming a social services case. I wanted to leave and search for Two-Face, but the mystery surrounding the man who had taken it on himself to pay for my family's funeral made me curious to see who and what he really was. I wanted to unlock the mystery lying beneath the image he chose to project to the rest of the world. There was so much more to him that met everyone's casual glance and he reminded me of someone I knew long ago.

When I couldn't sleep, I often came down to the gym to work off the tension that kept me awake all night. I looked up at the ceiling, knowing that the one piece of equipment that I wanted and needed wouldn't be there. All I knew was that there was an indescribable ache in my heart at its absence; that no matter what gifts he would give to me, it would never be filled. I had once possessed the ability to fly, but now my wings were stripped from me and were lying bloodied at my feet. I was lost in a world that I didn't understand and would never fit into.

I punched the bag, trying to relieve my pain. It didn't help. If anything, it increased my pain and made it so much more unbearable. I kept punching the bag, seeing only the face of the man I hated above all others: Two-Face. I knew that if they were to see me here at this hour, they would worry about me, especially Al. He's like the grandfather I barely remember, trying to take care of both of us.

As I continued punching the bag over and over, tears began to stream down my cheeks. My emotions, which I'd held in check during my family's funeral, finally got the best of me. I fell to my knees, sobbing and longing for something that could never be. I longed to feel the warmth of my father's arms around me, holding and comforting me as he'd done when I was a child.

I screamed and shouted the hurt and rage I felt at their deaths at the top of my lungs, ignoring the pain it caused in my throat. I hoped that no one was around to see my outburst. My longing for them consumed all rational thought. I cried out my hatred of both Batman for allowing them to be sacrificed to protect his secret identity and Two-Face for killing them. Part of me knew that Bruce would have given himself to stop the slaughter, but he'd not been given a chance to do so.

"Are you alright, Master Dick?" I heard a soft, but strong voice ask from the doorway. It distracted me from the pain and abandonment I felt. I turned to see who had spoken to me and I saw Al standing there. He wore a pair of black silk pajamas covered with a blue robe tied at the waist. He stood there silently and waited on me to regain enough of my self-control to respond to his question.

As I struggled to regain enough of myself to answer him, I saw a figure dressed in a black tuxedo standing behind him. From the way he was dressed, it was obvious that he'd just gotten back from the charity ball that he'd wanted me to attend with him and I'd refused to go. The look on his face told me that my words, uttered in pain, agony and despair, had hurt him deeply nonetheless. I looked at him, trying to convey with my eyes and expression the sorrow I felt at having caused him such pain. All he'd ever shown me was kindness and trust and given me a place to call home, yet I'd managed to hurt him without thinking. I stood up and took the tissue Al offered me and blew my nose. I then dropped it in the trashcan after I was finished with it.

"Bruce, I. . . ," I stammered as I turned to face him. I needed to explain my words, tell him that I hadn't meant what I said about hating Batman. I watched him as he walked away from me without saying a word. I wanted to reach out and touch him, convince him that I knew he wasn't responsible for their deaths, but he chose to shut me out. I looked over at Al, trying to figure what was going on inside Bruce's head. "I didn't mean what I said, Al. It's just sometimes the pain becomes so unbearable that I lash out without thinking."

Alfred smiled at a distant memory. "We all do that, Master Dick," he finally said, a frown creasing his brow. "Even Master Bruce has done so at the deaths of his parents." He smiled at me, trying to make the discomfort I felt go away. "Give him time, young master. He'll realise that you didn't mean what you said. Go on upstairs and I'll bring up a tray of tea and scones."

I nodded, heading towards the stairs as he headed for the kitchen to prepare the tea and some lemon scones, which I'd developed a real taste for while living there.

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As I came downstairs the next morning, I heard Bruce tell Al that he'd be home late this evening. Sleeping in had cost me the chance to make peace with him before he left this morning. Entering the dining room, I saw that Al had already made a huge stack of warm pancakes with butter and maple syrup.

I fidgeted as he waited on me hand and foot. I was not used to someone doing the things I had learned to do as a kid. My parents had taught me and my brother independence and self-sufficiency as a way of circus life.

"Thanks, Al," I said when he'd finished setting my breakfast before me and turned to leave. I saw him nod his head in acknowledgement. As he walked out of the dining room, I attacked the stack of pancakes.

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Going about my usual afternoon routine, I found myself thinking about what happened last night, the stunned look of horror on Bruce's face at my words.

I hadn't meant to hurt him, but all the pain and rage I'd held inside me since their deaths finally came out. In the hours after my outburst, Al had tried to convince me that need and pain had a greater reason and were never understood by many people. He then proceeded to tell me about the deaths of Bruce's parents years earlier and how watching the deaths of my family had brought back all those old feelings in him that he'd never acknowledged.

Walking without thinking about where I would end up, I found myself alone in Bruce's study. It was a place of quiet and solitude. I usually didn't come in here unless Bruce was here, but today I needed someplace quiet to collect my thoughts. It had been cool enough for Al to have lit a fire in the fireplace and the glow it gave off made the room seem so much less severe and more comfortable. The room felt more suited to quiet romantic conversations and somber thinking more than any other room.

I sat down on a small couch in front of the fireplace and stared into the flickering flames, my thoughts a mass of chaotic impulses. I had to decide what to do with my life now that the only life I'd ever known was gone.

Bruce had wanted me to go to college in the fall, but he found out that I needed a high school diploma from an accredited school. The education I'd received with the circus had always been enough in the past, but now I found out that I would have to take one year of high school at a regular school with other kids closer to my own age.

I fought the idea. I didn't want to mix with other kids. I wanted my old life back, and I wanted to be able to fly again. I wanted to know that my father and brother would both be there to catch me if I fell. Bruce had made it clear that this was one time that I would do exactly what he wanted me to without arguing. I wisely held my silence, willing to give his way a try for a while.

I found my attention wandering, feeling the warmth of the fire lulling me into a contented feeling. My mother had always said that there was a reason for everything, but what was the reason served by their deaths? Was I orphaned to become the partner of a man who needed someone to care about, someone to look after? I had no idea what I thought about that as I felt myself drifting into sleep.

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Alfred glanced at the clock hanging on the nearby wall and saw that Bruce would be arriving home from his office at Wayne Enterprises soon. He also became aware of the fact that he'd not seen Master Dick around for some time. He wondered where the young man was. He checked his room and found nothing out of place then checked both the garage and the Batcave. Everything was as it should be. His motorcycle was still parked in its slot in the garage and his Robin costume was still hanging in its usual place beside Bruce's.

As he came through the silver closet from the Batcave, he heard the outside door open and saw Bruce walk into the foyer. Bruce could tell from the look on his face that something wasn't right.

"What is it, Alfred?" he asked, hoping against hope that it didn't involve Dick.

"Master Dick is nowhere to be found."

Bruce felt the blood drain from his face. Here he was, responsible for Dick's safety and he'd left him vanish without a trace.

"Have you checked his room, the garage and the Batcave?" he asked, trying to keep control of his emotions long enough to locate his ward. He had to find Dick, if only to tell him that he understood the pain and loss he was going through.

"Nothing is missing, Master Bruce. All of his things are still in his room and his motorcycle is still in the garage," Alfred said as he noticed his employer's reaction. "Even his Robin costume is still in the cave next to yours." He pursed his lips together in thought, then spoke what was on his mind. "Perhaps we should wait for him to come back on his own?"

Bruce nodded, unwilling to trust himself to speak. He was concerned that someone had put together the secret of his dual identity and taken Dick as a hostage. He couldn't think like that. It wouldn't help him find Dick.

"I'm going to do some work in the study, Alfred. Let me know when he gets back," Bruce said as he headed upstairs to his study, unaware that Dick Grayson was there.

**** **** *****

As I woke up, I could tell someone was in the room with me, but I was unable to tell who it was. Struggling to sit up, I saw Bruce sitting at his desk, his focus solely on the stack of papers before him. I didn't think that he'd seen me lying on the couch and I tried not to make too much noise as I sat up.

"Dick?" he whispered as he saw the top of my head over the couch. He got up from the desk and came around to where I sat. He knelt down and looked at me, his concern evident in his eyes. I didn't know what to say to him, so I chose to remain silent and let him make the first overtures. His hands came up and touched me on the shoulders and the next thing I was aware of, I found myself being drawn into a warm embrace.

"I'm so sorry. I didn't know that you felt that way about what happened to your family. I tried to. . ."

"I know you tried to stop him, Bruce," I said as my arms went around his shoulders and drew him against me. I found myself wanting to comfort him in light of the knowledge I'd gained of his loss. In that respect, we're so very much alike. "Al told me how watching the deaths of my family brought back memories of the deaths of your parents. I don't blame you for what happened. You would have died for them if you could have. Two-Face is the one I blame."

I took his chin in my hand and turned his face towards mine. I looked deep into his eyes and saw the tears streaming down his cheek. I knew he was feeling pain not only for my loss, but for his own that he'd never allowed himself to feel over the years. I knew that by sharing our grief, the relationship we shared as Batman and Robin would never be the same. We would both make it through the next few months with some help from Al.

"You will never have any reason to distrust me," I promised him. I gently wiped the tears from his eyes with my fingers, smiling when he didn't draw away from me.

He smiled his gratitude and my heart felt like it had wings. "Thank you, Dick," he barely whispered. I had to strain to hear his words. "You have no idea what it means for me to hear you say that."

I felt like that, given time, there would be nothing we couldn't overcome as a team. As we looked out the window, we saw the Batsignal, our clarion call to duty. It was the one thing we could share and take pride in the fact that what we were doing saved many people's lives. Maybe this was why my life had been spared when theirs had been snatched away. Moving as one, we headed for the Batcave to change into our other selves, Batman and Robin.