"Where are we going?" murmured Dick, as he sat in the passenger seat of the Batmobile later that night.

"Home," replied Batman, staring straight ahead.

"You know where I live?" asked Dick.

"Yes," replied Batman. "You live with Bruce Wayne. Everyone knows where he lives."

He was conflicted – on the one hand, he didn't want to add the burden of his secret identity onto Dick after all he had been through tonight. On the other hand, if this Joker was going to continue to cause mayhem and chaos, he might target Dick again. It would be good if he knew how to defend himself, and Batman knew he could train him, as he had trained himself. Dick could always say no to helping him with crime-fighting, if he didn't want to do that. But it might help Dick if he knew the truth – if he knew how Bruce Wayne had honestly dealt with the pain of his parents' murder. It might comfort him to know that after a horrible trauma, people could still rise as heroes.

He cleared his throat. "Look…after tonight, you've…seen the worst that humanity has to offer," he murmured. "And this Joker guy…he might not stop trying to hurt you."

"So I should have killed him," murmured Dick, looking out the window.

"No," said Batman, firmly. "You should never kill anyone. Taking a life…shouldn't be something that anyone should do."

"Tell that to the Joker," muttered Dick.

"You proved tonight that you're better than him," said Batman. "And surely you don't want to sink to the level of the man who murdered your parents?"

"You wouldn't understand how it feels to have your parents taken from you like that," murmured Dick.

"Yes, I would," said Batman, gently. "My parents were killed by a criminal when I was your age. And for a long time…I felt lost and alone and completely purposeless. But then I…found my purpose. My purpose was to make sure that kind of thing could never happen again, to any innocent child. I failed you, and I'm sorry. But every night I try to do better. Every night I go out and try to save the people of this city from the worst of humanity, so no one will ever have to feel what we feel ever again."

Dick stared at him. "Bruce?" he murmured.

Batman nodded. "So now you know the truth," he said, looking at him. "You and Alfred are the only ones who know. I'm not asking you to join me in what I do, Dick – it's dangerous work, and more than anything, I want you to be safe. But this is what I chose to do with my life when I couldn't distract myself anymore from my parents' murder. I felt I had to make a difference somehow. And maybe it's not perfect, but it's the only way I know how."

Dick said nothing. "The Joker was right about one thing," he murmured at last. "There's only so much you can do on your own. No one person can protect this city from criminals single-handedly. There are just too many of them."

"Maybe," agreed Batman. "But I don't want anyone else to get hurt because of my actions. Especially not a child."

"But you can't do this on your own," said Dick. "The more people there are fighting the bad guys, the fewer people the bad guys can hurt. Right?"

"It's not always that simple, Dick," said Batman. "And as you found out tonight, sometimes it's not only the bad guys who get hurt."

Batman drove into the Batcave, parked the car, and then lead Dick toward the stairs. "We can talk about this more tomorrow," he said. "But right now you need a good night's sleep…"

"I don't feel like sleeping after what I've been through," murmured Dick, looking around the Batcave.

"Ok. What do you feel like doing?" asked Batman.

Dick slowly approached a punching bag hanging from the ceiling. Batman watched as Dick carefully traced a pattern along it – a pattern that looked like a smile.

And then Dick threw his fist against it, hard. "I feel like fighting," he murmured, turning to Batman. "Can you show me how?"

Batman nodded slowly. "Yes. I can."

Five Years Later

"Robin? Are you in position?" asked Batman, speaking into his commlink as he scanned the warehouse below.

"Roger that, Batman," replied the voice of Dick Grayson. "But I don't see the target…"

"He'll be here," said Batman, glancing around carefully. He suddenly heard a thud, and then a cry on the other end of the commlink. "Robin?!" he cried, his heart leaping into his throat.

"Ooops! Birdie Boy seems to have bumped his widdle head on my crowbar!" said a familiar voice.

"Hit him again, puddin', he's still moving!" exclaimed another familiar voice.

"Now Harley, there's no need for excessive force," said the first voice. "I mean, it is fun, but Batman wouldn't want his little friend too damaged. He needs to be kept nice and safe, so my boys can load up this toxin without a certain Bat interfering in the operation. Because if he does, I'm gonna crack open Bird Boy's skull like an egg. Like the egg that Robin laid in a popular song where the Joker got away..."

"Joker, if you dare hurt him…" began Batman, but the Joker suddenly smashed the commlink with his crowbar.

Joker whistled as he held up his own radio. "Come on in, boys!" he said. A moment later, his henchmen entered the warehouse, and began loading crates of Joker toxin onto a waiting truck.

"Harley, be a lamb and give them directions on where to take the truck after it's loaded," said Joker. "Remember, the most complicated way so the Bat can't follow it. But I'm betting he's keeping his undivided attention on me anyhow!" he chuckled, looking at Robin. "We just have that kinda relationship!"

"Anything for you, Mr. J," purred Harley, kissing him and then skipping over to direct the henchmen.

Joker continued to whistle as he tied up Robin, and then smiled to himself as he slapped him across the face. "Wakey, wakey!" he said, beaming.

Robin's eyes fluttered open, saw Joker, and instantly became furious. He struggled madly against his ropes. "Let me go, you sick son of a…"

Joker slammed the crowbar across his face suddenly. "Language!" he said, clicking his tongue. "A boy your age shouldn't know such words! One might question your upbringing – what kind of horrible people must you hang around to pick up words like that? No kind of role model for a young person, that's for sure. But anyone could probably guess that from the bat costume!" he chuckled. "Seriously, people call me crazy, but at least my sidekick's an adult. Over the age of consent, if you get what I'm saying," he chuckled. "Y'know, of legal age for breaking the law. But here you are, some poor kid Batman's brainwashed into becoming a criminal, without being old enough to really know what it is you're doing. He should really be locked up, the sooner the better."

"I know what I'm doing," growled Robin. "I'm going to see you brought to justice for your crimes."

"And what about your crimes, kid?" chuckled Joker. "And your boss's? So far tonight, we've got breaking and entering into private property," he said, gesturing around the warehouse. "And that's nothing compared to the numerous unprovoked assaults you and your boss have subjected me to."

"My crimes are nothing compared to yours," hissed Robin.

"Maybe not, but I ain't a kid," chuckled Joker. "When I was your age, I was playing baseball outside in the fresh air and sunshine, not hanging around costumed lunatics all night to help with dangerous operations to foil criminals. And you know what they say about kids who get a criminal record when they're young. Tell 'em, Harley, you're the shrink," he said, as Harley returned after seeing the henchmen off.

"Juvenile delinquency, if left unchecked, is a gateway into much more serious crimes," said Harley. "Sure, it's a little breaking and entering and assault today, but tomorrow? Who knows what you're gonna end up doing. I'm betting first degree murder."

"I will never murder!" growled Robin. "I will never be like him!" he spat at Joker.

"No, you won't," agreed Joker, shaking his head. "As you can see, I'm a very successful man, with a very profitable criminal career, not to mention the funniest man alive. I've got a beautiful, loyal girlfriend, and a job I enjoy – making people laugh, usually to death! I got a purpose which fulfills me and makes me happy, and I get to spread that happiness to others, which is why I'm always smiling. You'll never have any of that," he murmured, smiling at him. "Because you'll always be a pathetic little birdie, in the shadow of a bat. Won't you, Robin?"

Something about the Joker's choice of words unnerved Robin – he had heard that phrase before, before he was Robin, when Joker kidnapped Dick Grayson at Haly's Circus…did the Joker know who he was?

Robin studied the grinning white face in front of him, but it was inscrutable. Nothing but that horrible smile, those wide, grinning lips, red like blood…and he had seen so much blood in his young life…

Robin shut his eyes to block out the image of his parents falling to their deaths. "Boss, toxin's safe," said a henchman, entering the warehouse suddenly.

"Good," said Joker. "Bring the birdie outside, and we'll be on our way."

The henchman obeyed, picking up Robin and dragging him after a skipping Harley and whistling Joker. They emerged into the drizzly darkness of a typical Gotham night, with a typical bat figure crouched on the roof, studying them carefully.

"How do we make sure the Bat doesn't follow us, boss?" asked the henchman.

"Easy, Roc," said the Joker. "We distract him by making him preoccupy himself with Bird Boy. By making him need urgent medical attention. Plus my parenting philosophy has always been 'spare the rod, spoil the child.' It's time this child learned the meaning of discipline, and that people who commit crimes have to suffer consequences."

He smashed the crowbar across Robin's face again, and then beat him around the head a couple times. "You're fine – just a little concussed," said Joker, patting Robin gently on the shoulder as he fell to the ground, bleeding. "Nothing too serious, but better get him seen to soon, Batsy!" he called.

Robin's vision was blurry as he watched Joker and Harley and the henchman head to the waiting car. "What are all these posters, boss?" asked the henchman, glancing at the faded and ripped papers pasted onto the warehouse walls.

"Old advertisements for stuff, Roc," said the Joker.

"Oooh, look at that one!" said the henchman, pointing. "Haly's Circus! I love circuses! And hey, that clown looks like you, boss!"

"He sure does, doesn't he, Roc?" chuckled Joker. "He's a dead ringer! Coulda been me in another life, for sure."

"See the incredible, amazing, death-defying Flying Graysons!" read the henchman. He frowned. "Never heard of 'em."

"Just some second rate acrobats, Roc," said the Joker. "They died performing their act. Well, all except one – God knows what happened to that useless kid. Suffering through something like that must have messed him up pretty bad though, huh, Harley?"

"Yeah, Mr. J," agreed Harley. "I hope he got the psychological help he needed, but I'm afraid he's probably got some kinda criminal record now."

"Oh, I know he does!" chuckled Joker. "Gee, you could almost feel sorry for the poor kid. First wasting his life as a circus freak, and now a criminal, thinking he's allowed to break the law just because his parents died. As if everyone else needs to suffer just because he suffered, just to placate his own pain. Almost brings a tear to your eye, doesn't it? Well, not my eye, of course – I'm always a happy soul! And wherever he is, I hope Dick Grayson is the same. But somehow, I sincerely doubt it."

Robin heard the Joker's cold chuckle turn into a hysterical laugh before he, Harley, and his henchman entered the car and drove off. A moment later, Batman was with him, checking to make sure his injuries weren't too serious. They weren't, the physical ones anyway. But Dick Grayson knew the mental ones would never entirely go away.

The End