Warning: Disturbing Imagery, Possible Language . . .

"Boo!"

Bruce grunted as he caught Dick in the air just seconds before the boy could land on him. He swung the nine-year old over his body and onto the bed with a bounce that set him giggling. Dick immediately climbed to his knees and grinned down at his guardian with glee.

"Did I scare you, Bruce? Did I? Did I?" the boy asked excitedly.

Perhaps if Bruce hadn't only climbed into bed two hours previously, he might have been more inclined to play along. As it was, he merely wanted to roll over and go to sleep. It was the weekend. He was allowed to sleep in on the weekends.

"No," he grumbled crabbily. "You made as much noise as a herd of rhinos running from your room to mine." Bruce tugged the covers over his shoulders and rolled onto his side. "Besides, you slammed the door to your room when you left it."

Dick hesitated over the words but didn't appear put out. Probably because Bruce had been telling the truth. The slam had woken him up. The patter of little feet running towards him had clued Bruce into Dick's plans, thankfully, before he had been woken by two bony knees in his stomach.

"Okay, I'll do better next time," Dick nodded with a smile.

Bruce groaned. "No next time, chum. What time is it?"

"Six-thirty," Dick answered, leaning over Bruce's body to read the clock. "Do you know what day it is?"

"It's Saturday, Dickie. Time for all little bats and birdies to sleep in," Bruce mumbled. He swung an arm around Dick and pulled him down onto the bed and dragged the comforter up and over him as he tugged the boy next to his chest. "Another six hours would be great."

"But you don't know what day it is," Dick said, squirming.

The boy had accompanied Batman on patrol last night as Robin, but Dick was still just a child. Alfred had decreed that a boy this young must be returned by midnight on patrol nights, no matter that it was the weekend. Batman had dropped Robin off in Alfred's care and driven back out to finish the patrol on his own.

Rumors were going around that there was a new drug hitting Gotham that had led to several deaths. Batman suspected that the drug was linked to a new gang that had settled in Old Gotham near Miller Harbor. The area was slated for reconstruction and renovation sometime in the next two years but right now there is a section of abandoned storefronts and a few industrial buildings that were deserted and ripe for criminals and homeless alike, a perfect place for a new gang to call home. The crime rate in the nearby popular Riverfront Center has recently been on the rise as had the number of drug busts. Batman turned the Batmobile in that direction.

Parking the Batmobile in an alley near the edge of the area in question, Batman had prowled Riverfront Center near the three block buffer zone that lay between the Center and the dilapidated area just beyond. In the hours following, he had stopped three muggings and two robberies and busted up two drug deals. Crime, he discovered, was indeed increasing and he noted four of the criminals caught were all wearing yellow and grey. Was this the gang's colors?

His questioning had yielded few results. The drug dealers he had captured were among those wearing the gang's colors and while the suspected members were scared of Batman, they were more afraid of being labeled as stoolies. Instead, it was a mugger who clued him into what was going on.

Frustration had led to a particularly hard takedown of one of two muggers working together. They had been attempting to rob a young couple whose vehicle was parked in a less trafficked area. When Batman had turned to the second mugger, he had laid down his weapon and held his hands above his head. The man had stared at his unconscious partner and then hinted he would be willing to talk for a lenient sentence.

Batman promised to pass on his request and the mugger had told him of a building above a store front in the old waterfront area where the new gang was rumored to meet.

"I hear they have run out a lot of the homeless and transients in the area. It looks a lot quieter there," the mugger had told him, "but that's only because there are fewer people willing to cross them. They are bad news, man, quick to repay." The man, in his late twenties, glanced around him as if he suspected the walls of having ears. "You can't let anyone know I said anything. They'll kill me and my family."

"You haven't told me much yet," Batman had growled at him. "Which storefront are you talking about? There are at least twelve in that area."

His partner had begun to come around by that time and, as a result, his new informant shook his head. "River Run. Best I can do. Sorry, man."

River Run Avenue . . . Batman knew of at least four abandoned buildings on that street that used to house businesses. It was a place to start. He had driven down the street in question on his way back to the Batcave. The next night was soon enough to begin his search.

He had been tired when he arrived at four in the morning. One of the drug dealers had gotten a lucky punch in and now he was feeling it. Nothing serious, certainly not enough to concern Alfred, but now Bruce wondered if he had managed to bruise a rib or two, after all.

"Bru-u-uce," Dick whined in a grating voice that jerked him out of his thoughts and further away from sleep. "You don't know what day it is," he repeated, wiggling to get free of Bruce's grip.

"Dick, I will pay you a thousand dollars if you would go to sleep right now and not wake up for six more hours."

The boy merely laughed at him. "What would I do with a thousand dollars?"

"Save it for college tuition," Bruce suggested.

"Bo-oring. And I'm not sleepy."

"Well, I am," Bruce muttered, tightening his hold on the struggling boy.

"But you never said if you knew what day it is," Dickie complained, settling down only once he had turned to lie facing his guardian.

"I'm fairly certain that I did. It's Saturday," he said with finality and closed his eyes.

Dick lifted one of Bruce's eyelids and peered close at the blue-gray orb. "It's October 31st. It's Halloween!"

The other eye joined the commandeered one and Dick finally let go as Bruce stared at him.

"You do know what Halloween is, right?" Dick asked. "Kids dress up in costumes and go around collecting candy. It's called trick or treating."

"I am aware," Bruce looked at his ward suspiciously. "I remember seeing commercials and hearing references to it being made. Is there a point to this, Dickie? If so, would you kindly make it and then let me sleep."

Dick made a face at him. Had he been more awake, Bruce might have recognized it as disappointment. As it was, he only noticed his eyelids were once more drooping as sleep continued to beckon.

"I've never went trick or treating before," he whispered.

"Hmm," Bruce hummed as his eyes lost their battle. "Neither have I."

It wasn't exactly the truth. Alfred made mention of his going with his mother one year but the memory was vague at best. Surely if it had been as interesting as his butler had made it out to be, the memory would be more prominent, wouldn't it?

It was beyond his mental capabilities at the moment, however, and Bruce found himself falling into a dreamless sleep after that.

"You won't give it away, will you, Alfred?" Dick asked as he adjusted the item on the plate in order to make it look a little more gruesome.

"I wouldn't dream of it, young sir," Alfred assured him as he covered the plate with a silver lid.

Far be it from him to spoil the lad's bit of fun. He patted his pocket to ensure he had his camera in place and then Alfred lifted the tray in his hands. Dick ran ahead of him as they moved up the stairs and down the hall.

"I'll get the door for you, Alfred," Dick announced.

He threw open the door to the master's bedroom with flare. Alfred winced as it hit the wall with a bang, although the boy hardly noticed in his enthusiasm.

"Breakfast, Bruce," Dick called out before leaping on the bed.

The boy bounced excitedly on his knees beside the slowly moving lump as Alfred set the tray down on the dresser in order to open the drapes. Noonday sun poured into the room drawing a groan from the bed's occupant.

"Good day, Master Bruce," Alfred chimed cheerfully. "Time to rise and shine."

"What time is it, Alfred?" Bruce rumbled from beneath his covers.

"Twelve-thirty, sir," Alfred told him as he picked up the tray. "I have your, ahem, breakfast, although lunch would probably be the proper term considering the time of day."

"I told Alfred not to wake you for six hours. That's what you said, right? Not to wake you for six hours?" Dick squirmed a little closer and tugged at the covers. "It's been six hours, Bruce, just like you wanted."

With a sigh, Bruce allowed the blankets to be pulled from his head as he shoved himself up with another groan. He was still a little sore from his activities last night. He probably should have had Alfred tape his ribs but the Batsuit's armor had protected him from the brunt of the blow and Bruce had been certain no real damage had been done. Had a rib actually been fractured, lying on his side would have been impossible.

"You didn't indicate you were injured this morning when you came in, although you were moving a little stiffly, I'll admit," Alfred noted, frowning. "Do I need to take a look today?"

Bruce shook his head. "No, no . . . Just a little bruised. I'll have you tape them up for me tonight, however." He smoothed the covers as Alfred set the tray over his lap.

"So, you are going out tonight?" Alfred asked. His voice expressed disapproval as he backed up and reached inside his pocket, his hand pausing so as not to give away the young sir's surprise too soon.

Bruce untucked his napkin and spread it over his lap. He took hold of the handle of the silver dome covering his plate, but didn't lift it. Dick bounced and squirmed a little closer.

"Hold still, Dickie," Bruce told him absentmindedly. "You're going to spill the juice. Is there something happening tonight that I'm unaware of, Alfred?"

"I believe the young master had hoped to spend the evening with you," Alfred told him.

Bruce was looking at the boy as he removed the lid and set it aside. "You will be spending the evening with me, chum. Patrol tonight, remember?"

Dick wasn't looking at him, however. His eyes were on the plate. "Um, aren't you going to eat your breakfast before it gets cold?"

Bruce smiled. "Of course," he said smoothly.

Without even a twitch, Bruce picked up the rubber decapitated hand and brought it to his mouth. He ignored the flash of the camera bulb as he pretended to bite into it and then pulled it away, frowning.

"Alfred, you must be slipping in your old age," Bruce complained. "This hand is a bit overcooked. It tastes rubbery."

"Aaww," the boy moaned in disappointment. "You were supposed to scream."

Bruce calmly set the hand back on the plate. Chucking the boy under his chin with a finger earned him a giggle. Dick sat back on the bed and crossed his legs as Bruce picked up his orange juice and took a sip.

Bruce smirked at him, amused. "Batman doesn't scream."

"You knew! How'd you know?" Dick demanded as Alfred removed the plate and retrieved the dome cover.

"There was a suspicious bulge in Alfred's pocket that I have come to recognize as a camera," Bruce smiled. "Too many times sneaking up on me to get your pictures, old man."

Alfred inclined his head. "I will endeavor to increase the level of my sneakiness in the future," he intoned. "My apologies, Master Dick. I had not intended to ruin your surprise."

"It wasn't entirely your fault either, Alfred," Bruce shrugged. "Dick was a bit too anxious and fidgety waiting for me to take off the lid. I knew there was something hidden there and you two were in on it together."

Dick slapped his forehead. "Don't worry, Alfred. We'll get him next time."

As the two men watched the boy scamper away, obviously eager to plan out his next assault, Alfred cleared his throat. The elder man was clearly unamused.

Bruce blinked. "What?" he asked defensively.

"If you were a detective enough to figure all that out, sir, you might have at least pretended to be startled by the hand," the butler chided.

"You weren't really expecting me to scream for him, were you, Alfred? That's not going to happen," Bruce chuckled. "And I'm sure that Dick wouldn't appreciate my feigning surprise as a means of placating him. The boy is too smart to accept that."

"Hm, I think you are forgetting that he is still a child."

"A rather brilliant child, Alfred," Bruce moved on to his coffee. "He wouldn't accept less than the real thing."

"He was hoping you would take him trick or treating tonight," Alfred informed him.

Bruce frowned. "Trick or treating? You mean, like door to door? Surely not! I can buy him candy if . . ."

Alfred interrupted with an exaggerated sigh. "I cannot believe I raised you to be so obtuse."

Bruce's mouth dropped open. "You cannot be serious! Alfred, I believe I have discovered the possible location of that new gang that has been operating out of Old Gotham! There has been a rash of new crime in the vicinity that needs to be accounted for. I'm fairly certain that they are responsible for that new drug that's out there. It's being called 'Rapture'."

Alfred hesitated. "You don't believe that they would give the drug to the children tonight, do you?"

The idea that the gang members might harm the young ones whether by introducing them to this new drug or through normal gang-related violence during what was ultimately a children's holiday was appalling. Alfred was not unaware of the terrible loss of life from drive-by shootings and other dangerous activities within the city. Such knowledge was broadcasted over the news stations every day.

Bruce blinked. "Well, no, not exactly, although it is certainly possible. There are a number of planned activities scheduled to be happening nearby tonight. I know that Gordon suspects this gang is responsible for a number of murders and influx of Rapture as well as other illicit drugs, however.

"Alfred, I am this close," Bruce indicated a small space between his forefinger and thumb, "to finding where they meet and, hopefully, with any luck, where they store their drugs and weapons. It is only a matter of time before another gang will challenge them and we'd have another gang war on our hands."

Alfred listened carefully to the latest threat to Gotham's peace. He nodded. "So then you do have a couple of hours to spare this evening in order to take a young boy trick or treating."

"Did you hear anything that I just told you at all," Bruce asked in growing aggravation.

"It will be his first time, you understand." Alfred added.

"His first time . . .?" Bruce wondered aloud. "You know, I think I remember hearing him say something like that earlier this morning when he came in to try to scare me. Obviously he missed going last year but, still, how can it be that he has never before gone?"

"Apparently, the circus would have Halloween parties for the troupe each holiday, but the young sir tells me that neither he nor the other few children were ever allowed to venture out into the nearby neighborhoods to trick or treat. As I understand it, the circus folk didn't believe their children would be welcomed intermingling with the city's own." Alfred said.

Bruce pursed his lips as he thought of the societal issues that would prevent children from ever feeling welcome during holiday celebrations. It was a shame really.

"Well then, of course he must go tonight," Bruce declared. "You can take him while Batman continues his investigation."

"I? I'm afraid he is not hoping to spend his evening with me, Master Bruce, but with you," Alfred chided.

"Alfred," there was warning in Bruce's voice. "This is simply too important to put aside for children's games. But what I need to do tonight, I can do alone. Robin need not accompany me. Let Dick have his fun."

"Then you will have to be the one to tell him," Alfred said as he turned away. "I refuse to be the villain in this." His disapproval was heavy in the air.

"There is no villain. It isn't as though I'm confining him to his room this evening," Bruce called after him, exasperated. "Okay, fine," he grumbled. "I'll tell him myself."

Alfred hesitated at the door. He looked back over his shoulder. "Try to let him down gently, sir," he stated before disappearing down the hall.

Bruce slumped back onto his pillow, rolling his eyes. "Oh, for God's sake."

The boy had been busy. How Dick had managed to get all of his pranks done without Bruce catching him he didn't know, although he rather suspected Alfred had a hand in some of them. He thought this as he showered with the plastic skeleton that dangled from a noose attached to the showerhead. He had been forced to remove the fake tarantula from the drawer containing his small clothes and took the time to shake out his shoes before putting them on just in case Dick had decided to shove a surprise inside of them as well.

Someone had put up a spiderweb over his door at some point after Alfred had removed the breakfast tray. It had taken Bruce a few moments to remove the wispy strands that stuck to his damp hair after he had inadvertently walked through it. He had a feeling that this was going to be a long day despite the late start.

And it was . . .

"You have to be the bravest man in the world," Dick declared at dinner. "Did nothing I do scare you today?"

Bruce looked up from his soup, distractedly. He hoped to get an early start tonight. The sun's last rays glowed from behind the treetops.

"What's that you said, chum?"

"I've been trying to scare you all day," Dick complained, good-naturedly. "But you barely blinked at any of the tricks I played on you."

"The spiderweb caught my attention," he murmured.

Dick rolled his eyes. "That's only because you had to take the time to pick the strands of it out of your hair and off of your clothes."

"All day," Bruce reminded him, amused. "I'm still finding pieces of your web on my sweater and slacks."

Dick grinned and hopped down from his chair to pick off some of the white strands that Bruce had missed. "This should be the last of it," he promised.

"What costume are you going to be wearing tonight," Bruce asked, curiously. "Are you excited to go trick or treating?"

Dick's smile wilted and he shrugged, stirring his soup halfheartedly. "I don't know . . . I'm kind of too old to be trick or treating now. I think I'd rather go on patrol with you instead."

Bruce frowned. "Are you sure? You aren't as old as all that. You can still go out and have a little fun with other kids your age. I'm sure that Alfred wouldn't mind taking you around."

"Indeed not, Master Dick," Alfred agreed as he retrieved their soup bowls in preparation of serving the main course. "I would be delighted."

Bruce didn't miss the scathing look his butler bestowed on him when Alfred was certain the boy wouldn't see it. He had a feeling his meals were going to be overcooked over the course of the next week. It was enough to make one wonder who exactly was the master of the house. Bruce picked up his glass in annoyance . . . or was that feeling churning inside of him guilt?

He suppressed a grimace. The excitement that had followed Dick throughout the day was gone and, although the boy still smiled, the glow had dimmed considerably.

"That's okay, Alfred," Dick told him. "Being Robin is more important. I'd rather help Bruce than go trick or treating." His eyes dropped to his lap. "It was a silly idea, anyway."

The slap on the back of Bruce's head came out of nowhere and happened during the boy's inattention. Dick didn't get to see Bruce's head bob in reaction the blow.

"Oh, I do beg your pardon, sir," Alfred murmured. "Quite clumsy of me."

Bruce suppressed a growl, finding himself doubting the other man's sincerity. He sent a glare after the butler but Alfred was already moving back through the door to the kitchen and was unable to appreciate it.

"Yes," Bruce grumbled. "Indeed."

"What happened?" Dick asked, curious as to what he missed.

"Nothing of consequence, Dickie," he answered the child. "It was just a little accident, I'm sure."

Satisfied, Dick nodded, completely missing the sarcasm lacing Bruce's reply.

Luckily, they were able to finish dinner without anymore 'accidents'. Bruce watched Dick change into his Robin costume for patrol. It was early yet. He could still go trick or treating if he wanted.

"Are you sure you want to come with me tonight, Dickie?" Bruce asked before he pulled up his cowl. "It is alright if you want to stay behind and go trick or treating with Alfred instead."

Dick put on his mask before he answered.

"I'm sure. I mean, I get to dress up in a costume all the time and helping you capture bad guys is a lot more important than collecting a bunch of candy," the boy assured him.

Bruce narrowed his eyes but said nothing as he finished tugging his cowl in place. That was the second time Dick referred to being Robin as being more important than finding enjoyment in being a child. He also didn't miss the fact that the boy refused to look at him until his mask was covering his eyes. Had that been the boy's effort to hide his continuing disappointment?

He sighed. Parenthood, he was discovering, wasn't an exact science. It was a bit more hit or miss and lately it seemed that Bruce was doing a lot more missing than hitting the mark. He said that he didn't want to replace Dick's father and that was still true but, in choosing to raise the boy, that was exactly the role he had stepped into. Bruce thanked the heavens that he hadn't any plans to have children of his own as he seemed to be doing a rather terrible job at it with Dick.

Batman stalked out of the changing room. He pushed Dick's disappointment into a compartment in the back of his mind. He would deal with it tomorrow. The sooner he could find the gang, the sooner he could locate the evidence he needed to trace the drug back to its distributor and get it off of Gotham's streets. He needed to get his head in the game. This new gang was too dangerous to go in distracted, however, his conscience continued to berate him in a distinct, and extremely annoying, British accent.

There is more than enough time to allow Dick an hour or two to be a child. I can always go out afterwards . . . Growling, Batman shook his head. It is too late now, he told himself as Robin exited the changing room. I'll make it up to the boy tomorrow.

"Let's go, Robin," Batman called to him. "We have a long night ahead of us."

He had to hide his smile as Robin jumped onto the hood of the Batmobile and slid across with a dramatic flair. Batman's nights had become a lot less grim since he had agreed to allow the boy to join him in his mission. It had been a difficult decision and he had fought it all the way but Dick had proven himself multiple times since then. He owed it to the boy to reward his hard work and diligence with the opportunity to use his new skills.

He probably should feel guilty for giving in to the idea of a Robin but, the truth of the matter was, Batman liked having a partner. Despite his dire prediction that Batman would suffer more injuries for having to look after a child while in the middle of a fight, in truth, he was actually receiving less injuries by the simple virtue of having someone there watching his back. That and, in an effort to keep the boy safe, the result was that Batman was now putting a lot more thought into his plans of attack than he had previously to the benefit of them both.

Interestingly enough, one prediction he had made when he first noticed the boy's unique talents almost a year ago was proving to be true. Dick was a natural at this . . . Far more, in fact, than Bruce himself, if he were honest.

The boy's natural-born athleticism, his intelligence and observational skills, his dedication and conviction all lent him the ability to not only equal the Batman one day but eventually to surpass him. On top of this was another talent that Dick possessed that Bruce did not . . . The boy's optimism and resilience meant that the darkness, something that Bruce continued to struggle with, could never overwhelm Dick. The boy, he was certain, would never be tempted to cross that line.

As they crossed the bridge into Gotham, Batman looked at his partner with satisfaction. For all that Robin was still just a child, the boy held in him the potential for greatness and Batman was determined to help him reach that pinnacle.

"Feet down," he chided softly.

Robin obeyed immediately and put his feet on the floor . . . or tried to, anyway. He had another few inches of growth yet before his feet would reach the floor board.

"Right. Sorry," Robin apologized.

Batman said nothing. He knew the boy would forget himself on the way back to the Batcave and his feet would end up right back on the seat again.

"So, do you know any ghost stories?" Robin's question came at him from left field.

"What? Ghosts?" Batman glanced at him. "You don't believe in ghosts, do you?"

Robin shrugged. "Maybe. Maybe not, but it is Halloween. If ever we get a chance to meet a ghost, don't you think it would be tonight?"

"I think," Batman said firmly, "that you would do better to get your mind off of Halloween and back onto the mission. Perhaps I should have left you home after all," he considered. "If you are this distracted, it would be safer for you to wait for me in the Batmobile."

"No, please," Robin begged him, alarmed. "I'll be good."

"You've had your fun today with all your pranks but now we are heading into dangerous territory. No more goofing around. Out here, that will only get you killed," he warned.

Robin sighed and nodded. "Right. Sorry," he murmured as he looked at the passing cityscape.

Rather than let Robin stew, Batman proceeded to bring the boy up to date on the information his new informant had given him. By the time he was finished they were nearing the rundown area Batman had found the previous evening. He wondered briefly if the mugger was being completely truthful when he named this block as the gang's hideout. There were another couple of streets nearby that were also viable candidates for what he was looking for. But, if the man had lied, to what purpose?

He parked the Batmobile in an alley away from the block they were to be investigating. Less chance it would be spotted and the gang members alerted. They could enter the area via the rooftops.

"Keep an eye out and keep up," he warned.

Robin nodded. "And keep quiet?" He was rewarded with a nod.

They shot their grapple hooks and flew up to the roof, silent but for a soft flap of cape. Batman halted the boy with a hand as he scanned the rooftops for any sign of guards. He didn't have to look to know that Robin had noticed the gesture and obeyed. It was amazing really that rapport that they had developed. Only a few months of working together and the man and boy were so synchronized it was almost as if they had been a team for several years.

The area appeared deserted but years of experience reminded him looks could be deceiving.

"Did they leave?" Robin asked softly. "I don't see anyone."

Batman frowned. "Be aware," he warned again. "Just because we can't see anyone doesn't mean that no one is there. It could be a trap."

A nervous flutter in his gut made him pause. Had the mugger intentionally given him false information as part of a plan to ambush him? It was a testament to his exhaustion last night that the thought hadn't entered his mind until now. He was suddenly tempted to send the boy back to the car.

"Robin," he said. "I want you to wait here while I search the building. Keep down and stay alert."

Robin looked up at him, stricken. "Did I do something wrong? I promise, I'm focused on the mission."

"It's not that, Robin," Batman told him. "I'm a little suspicious of the quiet."

"You think you're being set up?" Robin asked. "All the more reason you need me with you. I can watch your back."

"There is that," he admitted, but was that a good enough reason to endanger the boy needlessly? "All right," Batman decided, "I want you to wait for me on the fire escape while I go in. I'll call you if the coast is clear."

It was clear that Robin didn't care of that idea but he wisely chose to keep his own counsel. He had only been sent back to the Batmobile on two occasions since becoming Robin, one of which had been for arguing with him. Batman didn't believe that the boy would risk having that happen again and Robin was well aware of the punishment for disobedience in the field.

The first building had been deserted of everything but trash and rats. After checking the top two floors, Batman had called Robin in to assist in the search for possible weapons and drugs or clues to their whereabouts. It had been unlikely that they would find anything. Batman doubted that the gang would leave such valuables without men to guard them but he would discount nothing.

They swung over onto the next building. A cold wind disrupted the unseasonably balmy night the duo had started with, leaving an uncomfortable nip in the air.

"This place is creepy," Robin shivered.

Batman looked at him. "You've been in abandoned buildings before, chum. What exactly is bothering you about this one?"

Robin shook his head. "It isn't the building so much as the neighborhood." There wasn't anyone around at all. "It's like it's haunted."

Annoyed, Batman climbed the stairs to the upper level again. "It's all in your head, Robin. I think the holiday is making you see ghosts everywhere."

Robin glanced at him, nervously. "I haven't seen any ghosts yet," he argued. "H-Have you?"

"No," he snapped. "There are no such things as ghosts."

Robin was quiet as they climbed down the fire escape of the next building. While Batman didn't believe in ghosts, he did feel like they were being watched. Try as he might, even with infrared lenses, he had yet to find any signs of life. He grew more certain that the mugger's information was false. The question left was whether the Intel he received was purposely given or mere conjecture on the part of his informant.

"Can I go in with you this time?" Robin asked as Batman slipped open a window.

"Same thing as before," he told him. He paused as Robin put his hand on his arm.

"What if the coast isn't clear?" the boy asked worriedly. He had picked up some of Batman's nervousness.

"I will call you if I need you. In the meantime, stay put, until I give you the all clear," Batman repeated and then climbed through the opening.

Another cold breeze slid through him and Robin shivered. He rubbed his arms to rid himself of the gooseflesh. The night was relatively mild for the end of October. 'Indian Summer' Alfred had called it. Robin wondered if the cold he was feeling was the first hint of the coming winter.

Robin settled in to wait and keep watch until Batman contacted him with the all clear.

Just a few minutes had passed when Robin noticed a light moving in the window near the corner of the building. Was that Batman's light? There was a full moon out tonight, however, and, at least on the upper floors in the previous building, Batman had chosen not to use a light. Enough was coming through the windows and in the darker areas, he preferred his night vision lenses. He hadn't wanted to alert anyone who might be watching that they were there with a wayward beam.

So, did this mean there was someone other than Batman in there?

Batman moved through the room and into the apartment proper. His fingers slid into his belt and he pulled out a tiny spray of lubricant to coat the old hinges. If there were anyone nearby, Batman didn't want to alert them with the sound of a squeaky door. He stepped into the short hallway. Four more door led off of it to other apartments.

Standing stock still at the head of the stairs, Batman listened. Silence greeted him. Another empty building? If so, why did his heart rate rise and his gut clench. Something was wrong but he didn't know what. Despite that, Batman suspected that this building would be yet another dead end. He winced slightly at the term that had flitted through his mind. He was getting as jumpy as the boy.

He was just about to radio Robin to join him when he heard it.

A creak across a floorboard.

Someone was in here!

It was coming from the door on his right, a different apartment from the one he had entered through. He flicked on his infrared lenses but it wasn't heat he was seeing. A shape was human but smaller than a full adult. A small woman, perhaps, or maybe a child but cold . . . The color the figure was emitting was blue and black!

How could that be? Only Freeze could manage those temperatures to show those colors through the lenses. Every object emitted some kind of heat signature, even if it was reflecting heat or absorbing it from another source. Had Freeze somehow recruited gang members? That made no sense either. Freis had no patience for those he deemed beneath him intellectually.

Curious, Batman carefully stepped over to the door. The figure hadn't moved since he spotted it and no others appeared. He flicked his lenses back to normal and opened the door, his batarangs already in his hand. He stepped swiftly into the room, prepared for anything only to find that he was alone. He moved in slowly, searching. As he took a step forward, his boot sank into the wooden floor, alerting him that there were far more rotten floorboards in this apartment than the one he had previously been in. He stepped around the spot and moved with more care. He had no desire to fall through the floor.

Movement out of the corner of his eye caught his attention and he turned his head swiftly. He got the briefest glimpse of something white as whoever was in here slipped silently around the corner. Batman, once more, flicked down his infrared lenses. He had no desire to pursue the figure only to run into an ambush. Again, no red and yellow indications of anything alive showed up but the blue/black figure was once again standing stock still in the middle of the next room.

He flicked up the lenses and moved as quickly as he could across the weakened floor. He burst around the doorframe into . . . another empty room? This one was small bedroom. There was no furniture to hide behind, however, and the closet, too, had nothing in it to account for the strange figure. Except for a window that had been painted shut, there were no exits except for the door he had entered through. Even the ceiling appeared solid.

As he stepped out in the short hallway, he heard something off to his right, leading him further into the apartment. The bedroom at the end of the hall . . . He slid along the wall where the floor was best supported and stepped into room nearly twice the size of the previous one. This room had a wardrobe along one wall large enough for someone smaller than himself to hide. Batman yanked open the door but the piece was empty as the rest of the room. Then, in the cracked mirror that was attached to the inside of the wardrobe door, Batman saw someone standing almost directly behind him wearing a white sheet.

Spinning around, he reached out and caught the sheet in his hand, yanking it off the mysterious figure and discovered . . .

Robin?

He dropped the sheet as anger rose up and Batman grabbed the boy's arm. It was ice cold and he was pale behind his mask but Batman's temper flared only hotter that Robin had risked their lives in this ridiculous attempt to try to scare him again. The boy had disobeyed him in the middle of a mission!

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" he snapped quietly. "I told you to wait outside until I called you. The gang we are searching for has been responsible for several deaths already and you are playing games by attempting to frighten me!"

Robin pulled away from him but didn't try to speak in his own defense. It was just as well as Batman was in no mood to listen to anything he had to say. There was absolutely no excuse for such reckless and foolish behavior.

"I want you to go back to the Batmobile immediately and wait for me there. Turn on the heat as well; you're like ice. But understand me, we will be having words when I get you back to the Batcave," he growled. "You can expect to be grounded after this, young man."

It just began to slip through his temper that Robin wasn't upset. Shouldn't he be upset that he had just been scolded for a serious infraction? The boy's unnatural silence and pale features started penetrating the anger to alert Batman that something wasn't right. Memory of the boy's lowered temperature sent a fissure of alarm through him. Had Robin run into trouble while outside and had come in to find him?

Robin had turned away and was moving out of the room when the rotten floor suddenly gave way beneath him and he plummeted down to floor below.

"Robin!"

Horrified, Batman crossed the room in second, his own safety secondary in his mind. He dropped to his knees as he peered down through the broken boards. He jerked his light out of his utility belt, no longer caring that someone might spot an errant beam, and shone it through the hole.

"No!"

Robin lay in a twisted tangle atop several broken boards. One had penetrated his suit and jutted through his abdomen. Blood seeped from his lips, black against too pale skin in the low lighting. The boy's head was tilted at an unnatural angle, making it obvious that he had broken his neck in the fall.

No . . . No, no, no, no! "Robin, no . . ."

Why had he taken the boy with him tonight? Dick had only wanted to go trick or treating. Was it too much to ask that Dick have an hour or two to just be a child? Instead he gave up everything to spend his last moments with Batman. Overwhelming guilt swamped him.

Batman climbed to his feet, jerking his grapple gun from his belt. The hole left in the floor was just large enough to allow Batman to lower himself through it in order to reach the broken child below him. He was preparing to send it into the ceiling above him when a sound came from behind him.

"Batman!"

He spun around and froze. His eyes widened in shock!

"Robin?!"

"You called me?" The boy was squatting on the sill of the now opened window, looking at him. "Are you alright? I thought I saw a light coming from in here," he explained. "I was afraid that maybe someone was going to sneak up on you."

"Y-You . . . just . . ." Batman twisted back around to search out the body of Robin's double and stumbled back, blinking in confusion. "What?"

The floor was intact and solid once more, no hole marred its dusty floorboards. In fact, the only footprints disturbing the dust were those of his own boots. He turned in a circle but the wardrobe door was hanging open, just as he left it, and the sheet he had yanked off of Robin, or was it an apparition, was missing from where he had dropped it on the floor. He moved closer and his eyes widened to discover inside the wardrobe was the sheet, folded neatly on the bottom of the interior.

His eyes flicked up to the mirror's marred surface and he spotted Robin standing just inside the window, staring at him oddly. His coloring was normal, not the strange paleness from earlier.

"Are you alright?" the boy asked in concern; his face puzzled. "What happened in here? Was that your light I saw a few minutes ago?"

No, I'm not and no, it wasn't. He had only just pulled the flashlight out seconds before Robin had shown up at the window. What could the boy have seen that had brought him over to investigate?

Batman failed to answer him, his voice having dried up in sudden inexplicable fear. Worried, Robin stepped further into the room, walking toward the area where Batman had just witnessed his fall mere moments before.

"Stop right there!" Batman barked, hoarsely. "Don't move!"

Robin halted two steps shy of the spot, startled.

Batman shut the door to the wardrobe and moved carefully across the floor to him When he touched the boy's arm this time, he could feel Robin's body heat seep through the leather, not at all like the cold from before. Batman toed the spot carefully and, sure enough, the boards sank beneath the slightest pressure ominously.

"The floor is rotten," he warned. "It's too dangerous to walk across. I-I don't want you to fall through. We'll go out the window instead."

Robin nodded. "Okay, sure," he said easily, trusting his mentor to lead him to safety.

A few minutes later, they were standing once more on the roof.

"Are we not going to continue searching the rest of the building?" the boy asked, confused.

"Not tonight," Batman murmured to him. "It's deserted anyway. Let's go home."

Robin gaped at him. "Home? But it's early yet! We've only been out here for maybe an hour."

Batman nodded and allowed himself to take a deep breath again. "Good," he said. "Then maybe you still have time to go trick or treating tonight. What do you say, chum? Care to make the rounds?"

"R-Really?" Robin stared, a small smile lifting the corners of his mouth. "Wait! Do you mean Alfred or are you going to take me?"

"I wouldn't miss it for the world," he ruffled the boy's hair. "Sounds like fun! I want to see what costume you picked out to wear."

Robin grinned. As he looked out over the deserted street below he made a curious observation. "You know, it's not nearly as cold up here as it was down on the fire escape," he noted. "Weird, huh? You'd think it would be colder up here where there is more wind is blowing."

Batman nodded. That was odd. He thought back over the unexplained cold breeze that had moved through the apartment earlier. All of the windows had been shut except for the ones that he and Robin had purposely opened. He suppressed a shiver. As they made their way back to the Batmobile he reconsidered what it was that he had just experienced. Had that apparition that he had taken for Robin been a figment of his imagination, visible personification of his guilt, or was it something else?

Once they were ensconced back in the Batmobile and headed home, Robin chirped up.

"So, you really don't believe in ghosts?" the boy asked in an attempt to resume the aborted conversation of earlier.

"Ghosts?" Batman repeated.

Could that have been . . .? He shook his head.

"No, Robin," he said firmly. "Ghosts don't exist."

"Would it be wrong to pretend that they do? You know, just for one night of the year," Dick asked as he drew his feet up in the seat. He wrapped his arms around them and shivered with delight. "You know, in the circus, we'd all sit around a bonfire toasting bread and marshmallows and told ghost stories every Halloween."

He shoved his cowl off of his head as they crossed the bridge, exiting Gotham City limits and entering Bristol County. Dick peeled off his mask and set it on the dash.

"Do you miss it?" Bruce asked gently, curious, despite himself, about Dick's early life with his parents.

The boy was quiet for a few moment as he watched his reflection in the darkened window. Eventually, he shook his head.

"Sometimes," Dick admitted finally, "but it was different back then. I used to be scared of the things that went bump in the night, but now, I'm fighting against the things that go bump in the night." He looked over at Bruce. "I'm no longer afraid of the dark."

"No?" Bruce felt his lips lift. "And why's that?"

He expected it had something to do with that blasted Superman nightlight that Alfred had purchased for the boy nearly a year ago, just after Dick had first come to live with them.

"Because I know that Batman's in the dark, too," Dick smiled. "And as long as you are out there in the dark, I know that nothing hiding out there is going to hurt me."

Bruce shoved the disturbing memory of his experience in the apartment into the back of his mind. He would bring it out some other time and examine it under a microscope but tonight, he was just thankful that he would have a chance to give the boy a few more pleasant memories of his fast-disappearing childhood.

He reached over and tousled Dick hair lightly. He nearly laughed that it looked somewhat neater for it. It no longer looked as wild as it had a year ago, as if somehow the condition of the boy's hair reflected his ability to settle in the longer Dick was with him and Alfred at the manor.

"Nothing ever will if I have anything to say about it, Dickie," Bruce murmured as he turned onto the road that would take them to the Batcave.

"You never said what your costume is," he reminded the boy. His curiosity was getting the better of him. Dick had yet to admit what it was.

"It's a surprise," he giggled. "Alfred got you one, too," he admitted almost shyly. "When we thought that you might go."

Bruce sighed. "Well, I'm going now."

Squirming with excitement, Dick curled his legs underneath him as he began to bounce. Bruce kept his counsel this time and let the boy enjoy the moment. Bruce would find out in just a few minutes what costumes that Alfred had for them.

"And how did the trick or treating go, Master Dick?" Alfred asked as he opened the front door and allowed the two revelers in.

"Sh, you'll wake him up," Chewbacca murmured with Bruce's voice as he stepped into the foyer carrying an exhausted Han Solo. The creature handed off a heavy sack of candy to the butler.

Bruce paused inside the door to tug off the head of his costume one-handed. "I have to admit that I had some reservations about this costume when I first put it on but it turns out it is really warm. Came in handy there towards the end when Han got cold," he said, setting the head on the table.

"Ah," Alfred smiled at the adorable picture the two of them made. He tugged out his ever-present camera and snapped another picture, ignoring Bruce's much put-upon sigh of forbearance. "I take it he had a good time."

Bruce returned the older man's smile. "That he did, Alfred. You know, it is easy to forget how young he really is most of the time. His intelligence and maturity is that of a much older child but then, on nights like this, when he has none of the responsibility of Robin being forced upon him, I am reminded rather forcefully that he's still just a little boy."

Alfred nodded, watching the boy in question drool on Chewbacca's furry shoulder.

Bruce hesitated. "Alfred, do you think I'm doing the right thing, allowing Dick to be Robin?"

"It is a little late to be questioning your decision in that matter, sir," Alfred told him softly. "To take Robin from the child now would likely be devastating to his sense of self-esteem at this point."

"It wouldn't be because he couldn't handle it," Bruce argued. "He has more than proven himself as a worthy partner to the Batman. He's worked so hard for it but . . . on nights like this I can't help but think I'm doing him a disservice. He deserves a childhood, Alfred."

"Indeed. He lost so much far too young but I think if you are careful to allow him a few hours to indulge the child still in him, he won't miss the loss too greatly," Alfred pointed out. "If I remember correctly, you refused to allow yourself even that much despite my attempts to coax you out of your self-imposed exile from all things child-like."

Bruce refused to reflect back on his own lost childhood. It was too late for him anyhow. But Dick was in the midst of his, and Bruce hated to see him lose anything more than he had already.

"Is that enough, do you think?" he asked. "He won't look back on this time one day and wish he had had something different. You don't think he'll someday resent his time as Robin?"

"We cannot know the future, Master Bruce," Alfred told him. "The boy does seem to thrive in the field, though, doesn't he? He doesn't seem to resent the time and hard work he has to put in in order to be able to give dastardly criminals their just dues."

Bruce nodded his head as he rubbed the sleeping boy's back. "He does, at that, Alfred. He fought tooth and nail for the opportunity and he is a natural at it, and I don't mean merely the physicality of it. His sense of justice is always true; his moral compass always pointed north. I'd trust Dick's judgment over those of the League any day."

He was silent for a moment as he carried the child in his arms up the stairs to his room.

"I think I'd trust his sense of right and wrong over my own, truth be told," Bruce finally whispered.

"Then I believe you have answered your own question, Master Bruce," Alfred murmured as he opened the door to the boy's room. "We simply must be diligent in our efforts in order to ensure that the young master's youth isn't neglected. I think being certain that he has things like Halloween will help in that."

The two men worked together like a well-oiled machine to strip and dress the boy in his pajamas in record time. It was a testament to Dick's exhaustion that he didn't crack open a sleepy eye even once during the process. Bruce tucked him in, taking the time to retrieve Eleanor, Dick's stuffed elephant, and nestle the favorite toy under one of the boy's arms before dropping a kiss onto Dick's messy dark locks.

He closed the door behind him to find Alfred was still in the hall waiting for him.

"You'll need assistance with the zipper, I believe," the older man said in explanation.

Bruce grunted. That he would. Whoever's bright idea was it to put Chewbacca's zipper in the back should have been fired.

"Perhaps now you would be willing to indulge an old man's curiosity and tell me what happened tonight," Alfred said as he followed the younger man into his own room.

"I'm sure I don't know what you are talking about," Bruce answered cryptically.

But Alfred's eyesight was still sharp. He noticed the tightening of Bruce's mouth and the skin around his eyes. Something had happened to upset the younger man during the course of his shortened patrol.

"Why did you return so quickly from your patrol this evening?" Alfred asked while tugging the zipper down. "A patrol that I remind you that you were dead set upon going on."

Bruce shrugged out of the furry costume having worn only an undershirt and jogging shorts beneath it. He didn't want to think about what he had nearly convinced himself had been a hallucination on his part. The images were still too vivid in his mind . . . too pale skin, a dark stream of blood, the broken board jutting through a too young body, the awkward angle of a child's head. He shivered.

In the next second, however, it had disappeared as if it had never been. Even the hole in the floor! But the rotten boards had been real . . . He had been moving carefully throughout that apartment in an effort to avoid places like that. And then Robin, his Robin, had very nearly repeated the same terrible mistake as the apparition had.

Had it been a . . . a ghost? His mind rejected the idea out of hand, but his gut wasn't nearly so sure. If it had been a spirit of some sort, why had it taken on the image of Robin? Had it been a warning of some kind?

Without really thinking about it, Bruce had chosen to take it as such. Had he taken the time to think it through, he might have pressed on despite the distressing vision. Would Robin have gone on to suffer such an accident had he made that mistake, he didn't know. Either way, Bruce didn't regret pulling the plug on the patrol early.

Seeing Dick so happy and enjoying himself while doing something normal had been more than worth it. Tomorrow night would be soon enough to begin the search again, although Batman would take on searching that particular building without Robin, he determined.

He deferred explaining to Alfred until the morrow, using the need for a shower as his excuse. Later, while lying in bed, Bruce had trouble sleeping. After twenty minutes of tossing and turning, he wandered over to Dick's room. The boy was sleeping the sleep of the innocence, having no idea that he had, indeed, managed to scare his guardian half out of his wits during the course of the night.

Bruce sighed and knew that sleep wouldn't be coming easily. Instead, he pulled over the upholstered chair that he often sat in when Dick was sick or injured. Settling in, Bruce tugged the throw from the foot of the boy's bed and propped his feet on the edge. Maybe if he just sat here for a while, he would be able to go back to his room in an hour or two.

The next morning, Alfred smiled and closed the door to the boy's room. He was tempted to pull out his camera once again but didn't want to risk waking Master Bruce. It was clear that something had drove him to check on the boy. He would get the story out of Master Bruce soon enough.

In the meantime, he would take advantage of the quiet November morning to make himself a nice pot of tea.

REACTIONS? I was shooting for fun AND creepy? Did I manage it?

This month has been fraught with real world things that have claimed my attention. And I'll admit that when I did find the opportunity to write, I was constantly distracted by a story that is more than a year away from being ready to post as it is a spinoff of another story that I'm currently working on. Have any of you, that are writers on here, ever have that happen?