It is still Friday by UK time - therefore I totally posted this on time! This is an extra long chapter with some incredible fluffy goodness coming your way towards the end - fans of Wally/Robin bro-ness should be happy, and daddy!bats makes an appearance too! Enjoy!

Chapter Three
Do you want to build a... SNOWMAN!?

Kid Flash ran as if his best friend's life depended on it...

...which really, it probably did. He cut cross-country at speeds high even for a speedster, not really paying attention to anything other than just getting there as quickly as possible. In minutes he had crossed the city border into Gotham and then it was a short run down to the small island that housed the infamous asylum.

And that was when he ran into trouble.

Security didn't really pose much trouble (which was more than a little worrying), but then again, Kid Flash was in the stealth version of his suit and he was moving faster than any camera could see, so maybe that was understandable. But no, the problem that he hit was the fact that Arkham was huge, and he had no idea where inside Robin was. Perhaps he should have asked that before he set off. Though Rob didn't sound like he really knew, and even if he did, the phone had cut off before he could have said.

(And that was really worrying.)

Kid Flash vaulted a security checkpoint; sending paperwork and fast food wrappers scattering – though he didn't stick around long enough to see the surely comical expression on the guard's face. He settled for searching in a grid pattern, covering the entire ground floor in under a minute and coming up with nothing. And then he hit a stairwell and had to decide whether to look up or down first – a wrong choice at this point could have consequences Kid didn't want to think about.

He thought back on the phone call, trying to recall as many details as he could. The echoes of background noise, the bad connection...

Down.

He shot off down the stairs, his boots barely touching the steps as he ran. There were two sub-levels; the first one coming up empty, leaving him praying that Robin was in the basement. He had to be.

But with every room he checked that hope kept fading – maybe he should have gone upstairs first?

Last door. Peeling green paint; tarnished brass sign reading M—GU-. A horrible feeling settling in the pit of his stomach.

Kid Flash slammed straight through the wood; momentum causing it to splinter with ease the moment that his shoulder hit it. And then his toes smacked into something solid and he came crashing down to earth. His goggles hit concrete and cracked, but he shook it off and rolled over onto his back. Propped up on his elbows he got a look at what had sent him tumbling; his breath catching in his throat when he realised that he was lying in a pool of blood. The frozen surprised expression of an Arkham guard stared back at him.

"Well, nice of you to drop in."

Kid Flash twisted around at the disturbingly familiar voice; the horror of tripping over a dead body replaced by the ice cold dread of finding the Joker. Beside him stood Harley Quinn wearing a red and green elf-outfit and pouting miserably at the interruption. Sagging between them was an unconscious and bloody Boy Wonder.

On the plus side – he'd found Robin. On the down side... the psychopathic couple were trying to shove Robin in to the incinerator.

"Let him go!" Kid Flash demanded. He sped back onto his feet, but didn't get any closer. The Joker raised an eyebrow, and then let go off Robin with one hand, causing the Boy Wonder to slip lower in their grip. Harley's arms around Rob's waist and the Joker's grip on his cape collar were the only things stopping the younger boy from falling head first into the oven.

"Are you sure that's what you want?"

Kid Flash huffed in frustration. "Put him down. On the floor."

Harley rolled her eyes. "Or what?"

"Or this."

Kid Flash put on a burst of speed, literally crossing the room in less than the blink of an eye. He hit the Joker in the jaw with a right hook that he didn't hold back with, causing the clown to stumble back and hit the floor. In the same second, Kid Flash leg-sweeped Harley and took her place; catching Robin before he could fall into the incinerator, so close that there was less than an inch of clearance between skull and furnace.

With Robin secure in his arms he took off out of the room; the whole altercation taking place in about two seconds. He didn't stop to check whether or not he had hurt the crazies too severely with his powers, he was slightly more concerned by his best friends condition. He ran them a couple of corridors away until he found what he considered to be a safe corner, and then knelt down to assess the Boy Wonder's injuries.

"Rob?" Wally asked tentatively, snapping his goggles up and onto his head with his free hand. Green eyes roved over the smaller boy, taking note of the half-dried gouge in his forehead and the terrifying Y-shape carved into his chest. Blood was everywhere – more blood than could possibly be healthy outside of the human body. Any visible skin was ghostly pale; his breath coming in short, stuttered gasps. Wally gently patted his cheek, trying to encourage his friend to wake up. "Rob, can you hear me?"

"W-Wall-ee?"

"Rob?" Wally asked again, more insistently than before. He wiped his thumb over the right lens of Robin's domino mask to clear away the blood smeared across it; wishing that he could take the damn thing off and just see if Rob had opened his eyes.

Robin's breathing got even shorter as he winced in pain, his head turning to one side as if he were looking around. His brow furrowed in confusion, his voice sounding small and far away as he asked "I'm... I-I'm not...d-d...?"

Wally guided Robin's face back to look at him, hating the shaking of the younger teen's body that couldn't be totally attributed to blood loss. Robin was scared, more scared than Wally had ever seen him before. But judging on where Wally had found him and who he had found him with, Robin had every right to be. He put every effort into sounding as reassuring as possible "No Rob, it's okay. You're safe, I promise. It's over."

Robin curled against him slightly more, one hand gripping the black fabric of the Kid Flash suit like a life line. "I want-t-to go h-home."

"Okay, Rob," Wally agreed as he stood up again, Robin nestled safely in his grip. "Let's go home."

Meanwhile, at Wayne Manor...

...Bruce and Alfred returned home; the main phone ringing incessantly even as they crossed over the threshold. Bruce had been feeling uneasy all night, though he had put it down to being trapped in room full of predatory socialites while his city was left unprotected. Thankfully now that he had made an appearance, he should be able to get away with skipping the next few – which sounded like an incredibly good idea to him.

"Wayne Residence," Alfred answered politely, despite the fact that it was nearly four in the morning and an inhuman time to be calling anyone.

Weary, Bruce began to head up the stairs, intending to stop off at Dick's room and check that he was asleep before passing out for the few hours between then and dawn. But he didn't make it very far before Alfred's voice had him frozen mid-step.

"Miss Barbara?" the butler asked, sounding surprised. "What brings you calling at this hour? Master Richard...? We have only just arrived home ourselves. I see, now. Yes, yes Miss Barbara, I will have him call you as soon as he can. Thank you, and good night."

"Alfred?" Bruce asked warily as the butler hung up the phone.

"It would seem that Master Richard did not get a ride home with the Commissioner this morning as we had arranged," Alfred relayed. The odd feeling of unease that had settled in Bruce's stomach twisted painfully. He had only allowed Dick to attend the school dance instead of the charity function purely because he had thought that he would be safe with Gordon – but if he had missed his ride... how did he get home? "Miss Barbara explained that the young sir stepped out for some air and did not return."

"And she didn't call sooner?" Bruce demanded; his eyes fixing on the top of the stairs towards Dick's room, where he damn well hoped the boy was sleeping.

"She believed that he was mad at her and had called me for a ride home," Alfred explained patiently. "She's been calling the Manor ever since she got home and realised that she could not get hold of him."

Bruce nodded distractedly as he continued up the stairs, praying that he would just have to give his son a lecture on irresponsible behaviour and bad manners; and not the alternative that his gut was warning him of. He reached Dick's room and opened the door without knocking; disheartened to find the bed empty and unslept in.

"He's not here, Alfred," Bruce stated, his panic barely concealed behind a thin veil of stoicism. He turned back into the corridor and called for his son in case he was simply in another room, but the old manor house offered him only silence in return.

"It is possible that he is merely downstairs, sir," Alfred said reassuringly. "He is likely perfectly fine."

That's not what Bruce's instincts told him.

He marched down to the cave anyway, knowing that it would be his best chance of finding Dick even if the teen wasn't waiting down there clueless to the stress that he was causing. Bruce opened the grandfather clock and descended the stone steps, Alfred close behind him. Once they reached the large open space and it was clear that none of the shadows concealed the missing boy, Bruce hit the computer console in frustration. "Where is he, Alfred?"

"Uh, Mr Batman sir?"

Bruce turned at the voice, surprised to find Kid Flash standing in his lair. He was even more stunned to see Robin cradled in the older teen's arms, clearly unconscious. All he could see was blood.

"I found him."

Alfred had seen many horrible things in his duties...

...but none quite so horrific as the wounded boy before him. Bruce had quickly taken Dick from Wally's arms and carried him over to the examination table; but the moment that Dick's back had touched the cool surface the boy had gone from unresponsive to panicked, his arms and legs kicking and flailing in an attempt to escape. "Master Richard, please!"

"Dick, Dick, stop," Bruce tried, catching the small boy by the shoulders and trying to keep him still, but that just seemed to make things worse. Wally stood slightly back from the table looking terrified, and Alfred couldn't blame him. Each thrash seemed to send more blood oozing from Dick's wounds, and it didn't look as if the boy had much more he could afford to lose.

"He's having a panic attack," Alfred stated calmly, turning so that he could measure a safe dose of sedatives before Dick could cause himself anymore damage. "Hold his arm."

"Dick, please, calm down, it's okay," Bruce attempted to soothe as he caught one of Dick's wrists and held it down so that Alfred could insert an IV and administer the drugs. Still the boy struggled, barely understandable words of protest tearing out of his throat. "You need to calm down, Dickie! Please!"

Gradually, the fight went out of the teenager as the sedatives began to take affect, though he still looked petrified even as he slipped into unconsciousness. Dick was traumatised, though Alfred didn't understand quite by what until he was able to get a good look at the wounds that had been inflicted. "My word."

Bruce's eyes widened as he too took in the sight before them. It was difficult to make out with the mix of dried and fresh blood that seemed to cake every inch of the Robin uniform, but the crudely carved Y-incision had them both cringing in horror. The imagination was a terrifying enemy when presented with something that so closely implied the act of autopsy. Alfred recovered first, though his hands still moved hesitantly as he began to clear the layers of fabric and blood in order to get to the wound.

"What happened to him?" Bruce asked seemingly no one; his eyes still glued to the cut in Dick's chest. And then he spun and turned on Wally, the fear for his son turning to misplaced anger. "What happened?"

Wally was as white as a sheet; though whether that was from the force of being pinned with a direct batglare or the unpleasant experience of finding Dick, Alfred could not be certain. The red-headed teen stammered under the pressure to respond "I-I don't know," Wally shrugged helplessly. "He c-called me, said he needed help, so I-I ran..."

"Where?" Bruce interrupted shortly. Alfred raised an eyebrow at him in warning of his tone, but Bruce was too busy glaring at the speedster to notice.

"A-Arkham."

Silence fell. The cave was so quiet, as if even the bats knew the implications of that place. Bruce glanced back at Dick just as Alfred finished cutting away the uniform, revealing the wound in all of its glory. His hands gripped the edge of the table for support. "Who?" he asked, quieter than before.

"I-It was the J-J-Joker and Harley," Wally answered, the temperature seeming to drop at his words. "I-I f-found them in the morgue."

Bruce turned away from Wally and returned his focus to Dick, taking the sleeping teen's hand as if to offer comfort or sympathy. Alfred cleaned the wound with care and practised speed, making the angry red lacerations stand out against pale skin. With the boy's stillness and chill to the touch, it was hard not to picture Dick as the autopsied corpse that he so disturbingly resembled. It was a painful reminder that one day this parody of tragedy would be a reality that they would have to face; especially in their line of work.

"I-is he...?" Wally asked after the silence stretched on for too long. He stepped forward in concern for his best friend, but Bruce stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. "D-did they...?"

"You don't want to see this," Bruce warned. The wound looked so much worse now that it was bloodless. It looked too real. "Go home, Wally."

"No," Wally refused adamantly, his voice stronger now. "I'm not leaving him. Not until I know he's okay."

"Wally." Bruce growled.

"No."

Bruce sighed, too tired and too worried to really put up a fight; something for which Alfred was grateful. Tensions were already riding high enough as it was without a shouting match adding to the mix. "Call your uncle," Bruce conceded. "Keep it vague. You can stay in the spare room. But you have to leave the cave now. There's nothing you can do here."

Wally nodded, his green eyes drifting to what he could see of Dick past where Bruce was shielding him. "Understood," he said quietly. "Thank you."

He vanished with a burst of speed, most likely heading to the changing area where over the years a few spare sets of his civilian clothes had been accumulated. Alfred's rule of no capes in the house extended to guests as well, and Wally had long since learned to obey it.

Alfred continued to work in silence as Bruce hovered like a sentinel over his son. In his hand he held part of the Robin suit's tunic; the torn R displayed prominently in his grip. The butler allowed him to stay like that for nearly ten minutes before deciding that that was quite enough brooding for one morning. "Perhaps you should heed your own advice, sir," he said without looking up. "There is nothing you can do here either."

Bruce ignored the suggestion. "How bad is it?"

"Not as bad as it looks," Alfred replied. "Most of the incision is just a flesh wound designed to inflict more mental trauma than physical, I would imagine, though there are parts that are significantly deeper. Here," he gestured to the left of Dick's chest, "the cuts are jagged and uneven, most likely due to the difficulty of cutting through the insignia."

Bruce gestured at the wider lesion down the centre of the boy's abdomen. "What about here?"

Alfred drew in a breath. "That... that appears to have been caused by a blunt hook-like instrument. Most likely..." he paused and cleared his throat. "...most likely fingers, sir."

If it was possible for Bruce to get paler, in that instant he most certainly did. "F-fingers?" Bruce actually stuttered, an impediment Alfred hadn't heard from his eldest charge in a very long time. He stared down at the wound, possibly picturing the act that could have created it, judging from his ill expression. "That sick... that sick man tried to pry him open?"

"It would seem his intention was to perform an autopsy, though he clearly lacked the skill and knowledge to do so," Alfred explained somewhat clinically in an effort to keep his own anger and disgust at bay. "A small mercy for which I am grateful."

"Will it scar?"

"I will do my upmost to prevent that, sir."

Bruce looked like a bull just waiting to see a red flag. "The Joker will pay."

"Yes, he will, sir" the butler agreed. "But not today."

Bruce sighed as he squeezed his son's hand.

"Not today."

T'was the day before Christmas and all through the house...

...not a creature was stirring, not even mouse. Or at least, Wally didn't think that there was. Wayne Manor was a big place after all, it was really hard to tell if there was truly nothing moving at any given moment. And he didn't really think that Alfie would let there be mice in the house anyway. They were more bat-people than rodent-people, anyway.

Wally sighed, trying to derail the tangent his unoccupied mind was running down at high speed before he starting weighing the pros and cons of Ratman and Bobbins.

He was in Dick's room even though he practically had his own room at the manor from the amount of time he spent there. That was where he was meant to be staying; but even though he was exhausted from the events of the day before there was no way that he could sleep. Not after seeing Dick like that, no way.

So instead of lying in his own room doing nothing, Wally had decided to cross the hall and take up residence in Dick's. The billionaire's kid had a huge king size bed anyway and was totally only taking up like a quarter of it; so Wally figured it was okay to lounge on the other side and read Dick's comic collection. Anything to try and distract him from thinking too much. Thinking was bad right now.

"Ughn..."

Wally snapped to attention as the lump under the covers shifted and groaned. He tried not to be too eager or impatient as he waited for Dick to wake up in his own time, but it was hard. Part of him was relieved that his best friend was relatively all right, but he also knew that this nightmare was far from over for the bird boy. At least while he was asleep he didn't have to feel anything or a think about things – did he mention how thinking was bad right now?

Gradually blue eyes opened, taking in their surroundings before settling on Wally in confusion. "W-Walls?" Dick asked, his voice sounding hoarse. He blinked, the terror Wally had been expecting to see mysteriously absent. Dick looked more like he had forgotten they had had a sleepover or something.

"Hey," Wally greeted.

"W-what are y-y..." Dick pushed himself up on to his elbows and gave a little gasp of pain. He looked thoroughly bewildered, his hand automatically going to where the pain had flared in his chest.

And then his eyes widened in terror.

"No-no-no-no..." he muttered in denial, his breath getting shorter to the point of hyperventilation. Dick pulled up his t-shirt, the grisly Y confirming his nightmare to be real. "No-no-no..."

Wally knelt beside him on the covers and took him by the shoulders to try and draw his attention away, but Dick was fixated on the fresh stitches with unwavering focus. He couldn't breathe, the panic attack taking a hold of him fast and strong; stripping away the invulnerable mask of Robin that Wally knew to reveal the child beneath. "It's okay, Rob, look at me! It's over, you're okay, you're safe..."

The words of reassurance were doing nothing and Dick was practically asphyxiating himself, so Wally tugged the hem of the t-shirt out of the younger boy's grip and pulled it down. With the wound hidden from view, Wally tried again to get Dick's attention, this time taking him by the face and forcing him to look at the red-head. Dick froze at the touch, staring at Wally for a moment as if he couldn't see him. And then the first tear escaped.

Wally wasn't entirely sure what to do. He had never seen Dick cry before – he didn't even think it was physically possible for a Bat to cry. But if anything, the past twenty-eight hours had been a reminder that none of them were invulnerable, and maybe, right now, Dick just needed to react like a normal fourteen-year-old.

So Wally did the only thing that made sense, and pulled the Boy Wonder in for a hug.

The response was instantaneous. The moment that Wally wrapped his arms around Dick's shoulders, the smaller boy buried his face against his chest and sobbed. Dick's hand latched onto Wally's shirt like an anchor, grounding him to reality as he released all of the fear and panic that he had kept inside during the Joker's games.

Eventually the tears dissolved into hiccups and Dick pulled away. "S-sorry," he immediately apologised, his cheeks flushing in embarrassment as he scrubbed at his eyes. "I sh-shouldn't've..."

"It's fine," Wally smiled. He leaned forward and rearranged the pillows so that Dick was propped upright, and then slouched back as if nothing had happened. "You feel better?"

Dick tried to return the smile, but he couldn't quite pull it off. "Sure. All better."

"Do you want to talk about what happened?"

"Not really."

Wally sighed, but didn't push the issue. Dick had been through enough and he suspected that Bruce would probably want to know some more of the details – there was no need to make the Boy Wonder relive the story twice. Instead he decided to make himself useful and get Dick a glass of water, which went down well considering the younger teen had just shed his body weight in tears.

"So..." Dick murmured once he'd downed a glass and a half. "How long have you been here?"

"About a day," Wally shrugged. "I brought you home yesterday morning and decided to stick around."

"Wait, yesterday morning as in the day after the school dance?" Dick asked, making Wally half-shrug in confusion. Dick was starting to look worried again. "The dance was on the 22nd, but the morning after would be the 23rd which makes today Christmas Eve, right?"

"Uh, right?"

"Aren't you meant to be at your Aunt and Uncles for that huge speedster pre-Christmas feast with the Garricks and your parents that you've been talking non-stop about for the past three weeks?"

"Uh, yeah?"

Dick raised an eyebrow, thankfully the one that wasn't below the massive cut on his forehead. That would have been painful. "Then why are you here?"

Wally snorted. "Oh, no reason. Just this random person I know decided to get badly hurt and scare the crap out of me. Figured it'd be a nice idea to hang out with him until he felt better."

"Yeah, well, we've already established that I'm all better now," Dick retorted, a little self-deprecation edging its way into his tone. He spread his arms to show off his total-all-better-ness, almost completely hiding the wince that the movement caused. "See? Now shouldn't you be somewhere else?"

Wally chewed his lip apprehensively. "I'll stay if you need me."

"Walls, I'm fine," Dick said forcefully. The speedster was pretty damn sure that he was trying to convince himself with that statement just as much as he was Wally. "Go. I'll be all right."

"Dick..."

"Wally," the Boy Wonder interrupted quietly. "I... I kinda want to be alone right now. Just, just so that I can sort things out in my head. I promise, I'll call you if I need you."

Wally studied Dick for a moment, before nodding. "You'd better."

Dick smiled, and Wally leaned in for one more hug. "I know you'll always answer," Dick said quietly.

Wally grinned. "If only to shut up that annoying ring tone."

Last Christmas, Batman gave Robin a new utility belt...

...This year, Batman gave Robin...

"A new utility belt?" Dick said uncertainly. He kicked the wrapping paper to one side and lifted the yellow belt out of the box, and then glanced at Bruce over his shoulder from where he was sat on the floor. "This isn't going to become a 'thing', is it?"

Bruce gave a small chuckle and then patted the seat beside him. "Come here, I'll show you."

Dick squinted at him suspiciously before clambering to his feet and collapsing on the sofa. Alfred had given him an extra boost of painkillers so that his wound wouldn't interfere with Christmas, but he still felt an uncomfortable twinge of pain with every movement his body didn't agree with. He passed over the new belt when Bruce held a hand out for it, and then watched with intrigue as the older man popped open a compartment on the back.

"I was working on this yesterday," Bruce explained off-handedly as he showed off the circuits beneath. "It's a new in-built security feature. If anyone unauthorised by you tries to touch it or remove it, they get an electric shock strong enough to render them unconscious..."

Dick made a small noise of awe in the back of his throat as he studied the delicate wiring. The care and attention that had gone into creating the belt was incredible, and he couldn't help but appreciate the reasons behind it. Bruce understood. Dick had half-expected him to try and retire Robin, but by building him this Bruce showed him that he still trusted Dick to fulfil his role. But this way, at the same time, that fear that had held him throughout the whole ordeal; that feeling of helplessness – now he had a way to defend against that.

"...trying to find a way to incorporate it into your gauntlets as well," Bruce was saying, "but then there's the risk of accidentally harming civilians or fellow heroes when they insist on shaking hands like that somehow makes for good teamwork..."

"Bruce," Dick interrupted, making his father figure stumble to a stop and look at him. Dick smiled and then curled against his side for a hug, resting his head against Bruce's shoulder. "Thank you."

"You're welcome, son," Bruce replied, returning the hug. "Anything to keep you safe."

"Hey Puddin', do you wanna build a snowman? Come on let's go and play...

…I never see you anymore, come out the door, it's like you've gone away!"

Joker banged his head against his cell wall, praying to every deity that he had ever heard of to smite his girlfriend with extreme prejudice. He didn't even care how; just so long as it shut her up. Of all the cruel punishments he could have been dealt for his playtime with the Boy Blunder; Christmas spent with Harley Quinn as his neighbour was by far the most vindictive.

He was 99% sure Batman that had had a say in it. He might've even suggested it.

"Ho, ho, ho," Joker grumbled miserably, Harley continuing to warble in the background. "Merry Christmas my ass."

So, there you have it - hope everyone had a great Christmas and enjoyed my little gift! Thank you to all the wonderful people who took the time out of this hectic season to read this fic - I have counted every review as a present to me :P As always this fandom is fantastic and makes writing for it even more fun; so extra super-sized thank yous for everyone!

I promise that I am working on my series; and you'll be pleased to know that this fun exercise has inspired some motivation to get cracking! I won't promise any posting dates cause I always fail at keeping them, but let's just keep our fingers crossed for 'soon'!

If anyone is interested, I have recently gotten myself a Tumblr where I am starting to post artworks and illustrations I am working on to go with my YJ stories. It's a bit bare at the moment but please take a look anyway: manic ravings of a lunatic .tumblr (remove spaces)

Thanks!

Manic x