AN: I want to thank everyone who commented on this story throughout posting. I wasn't as diligent at responding to you all as I should have been and I'm sorry (RL, just...waaaaa!). But I really appreciate every single piece of feedback and thank you all so, so much. It never ceases to amaze me how warm and generous the YJ fandom is.

Also, I need to thank my fantastic beta, Haley-Kim. My writing a multi-chapter present tense fic was a study in insanity. And she kept me sane. So thank you, Kim. As always, you rock.

Most importantly, I want to address all the people who messaged me and left reviews (anonymous or otherwise) to tell me about their own experiences with PTSD. I want to thank you all for sharing with me. Everything I've read suggests PTSD is difficult, exhausting and emotionally wrenching. That you live with that every day and still persevere...I can't tell you all how much I admire your courage. And cheesy as it sounds, I want to dedicate this chapter to you. PTSD doesn't have an easy fix, and there can be many dark days, but I wanted this chapter to bring a little hope. Dick is still healing, but he is also returning to the life he had. Not as the same person, but a braver, stronger and more resilient one. And I wish hope and peace for all of you.

oOo

Batman watches Robin swoop down onto the muggers, cackling gleefully.

He lands, quite literally, on the head of one before vaulting onto another. The men are so shocked they barely have time to react. Within two minutes, all three are sprawled across the pavement, groaning. It's an impressive achievement for the boy's first night back on patrol.

Robin picks up the discarded purse and dusts it off, before walking over to the woman sitting on the ground. "Are you alright, Ma'am?" he asks, holding out her purse to her.

"I– I think so," she stammers, taking her purse with a shaking hand. "Th-thank you."

"Do you need me to call you a cab?"

The woman shakes her head. "My apartment is just around the c-corner. I was…I was only walking home from work! Th-this is a good neighbourhood…I don't understand…"

"Sometimes bad things happen," says Robin quietly. "But the good mostly outweighs the bad, so try to focus on the good stuff, okay?"

Batman purses his lips. He's noticed that Robin's ability to empathize with victims has increased. The boy has always been better at reassuring them than Batman, but tonight he seems to know exactly what to say to make them feel better.

The woman nods and Robin holds out his hand to help her up. "Let me walk you to your apartment," he says, offering her his arm.

The woman is at least six inches taller than him and Batman sees her lips give an almost involuntary twitch as she takes Robin's proffered arm.

He watches the boy escort her down the street, the tension he's been feeling about tonight finally draining. Robin has done well, taking down several criminals efficiently. In fact, Batman has noticed that his punches are sharper, his kicks more streamlined and his tactics more skilled – the extra training is really paying off.

More importantly, his old confidence has returned – there was no hesitation, uncertainty or fear tonight. Batman had been concerned, despite five weeks of no nightmares, flashbacks or panic attacks, that fighting crime would trigger something. He didn't want to allow Robin out on patrol, but the boy had begged, pleaded and badgered until Batman had finally agreed to a one-night trial.

He'd even spoken to Dr. Carter – whom the boy is still seeing once a week – and she had told him that "healing doesn't mean the damage never existed, it means it no longer controls our lives," before pointing out that a massive part of Dick's recovery will hinge on getting his life back to normal. It's the thing he's striving hardest for, and Dr. Carter feels the only way to know if Dick is ready is to let him try.

Of course, she thinks 'acrobatics' means a gymnastic class. Batman is fairly certain she would feel differently if she knew it meant swinging from rooftops and tangling with dangerous criminals.

He sighs as the wind on the rooftop picks up and whips his cape around him. Despite the success of this evening, he still feels it's too soon – it's only been seven weeks since Johnson was found guilty. He doesn't deny that Dick has made huge progress: the verdict did wonders for reducing his anxiety, while the media praise of his bravery helped him feel like less of a victim, and the gratitude of the other victims' parents decreased his guilt. Most importantly, the nightmares, flashbacks and panic attacks have stopped. But Batman – Bruce – knows that PTSD is an insidious thing which can strike anytime, even when you think it's gone.

"Alright, B-man," chirps a young voice from behind him, "what's the verdict?"

Batman turns to find Robin behind him, grinning up at him. "You were too showy during the last takedown. That many flips are unnecessary: it takes longer to defeat your opponent and leaves you open."

Robin rolls his eyes. "You just want to find something to criticize. Admit it, I did good."

Batman remains silent and after several seconds, Robin sighs. "Alright, alright. I did too many flips. I'll watch that in future."

"Good. On the plus side, your punches are sharper and your kicks are neater. Have you contacted the police?"

"On their way now to pick up the three morons."

"Then it's time for us to go home."

Robin groans. "Aw, man. Please, Batman, just another half hour?"

"It's one a.m. and we had a deal."

Robin pouts. "Alright, fine."

They return to the car. As Batman pulls out, he can practically feel Robin vibrating with adrenaline beside him.

"Soooooo?" the boy quizzes.

"So, what?"

"Argh, c'mon on, Batman! You know what – do I get to return to Robin duties full time?"

Batman swipes a glance at him, but doesn't respond.

"I didn't freak out," Robin reminds him, a little nervously, "not once. And I know I did too many flips that last time, but I still took down three of 'em by myself. I can do this, Batman, I'm ready."

"We will start at patrolling one night a week for four hours, and work from there."

"One night?! You've got to be kid– I mean, that's fine. Totally fine," he backtracks at a sharp glance from Batman.

There's silence for a few minutes before Batman asks, "How do you feel after tonight?"

"Honestly?" Robin's voice is soft. "I feel like…me again, Batman. I needed this."

Batman nods. He's beginning to understand – being Robin is an inherent part of who the boy is, but he hasn't been able to access that part of himself for almost eight months.

They're nearly back at the cave when Robin stretches and says, "So. Why didn't Superman say hello?"

"What do you mean?"

"You really think I didn't notice him floating around when we broke up that drug deal in the narrows?"

Beneath the cowl, Batman's eyes twitch. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Robin laughs. "C'mon, B, he's Superman! The dude doesn't know how to do stealth – he stuck out like a sore thumb at least three times tonight!"

Damn boy scout… Batman sighs in irritation. "Alright. I asked him to tail our patrol tonight as a precaution. I didn't want you left vulnerable if I were occupied in the event of…" He hesitates, not wanting to shake the boy's confidence.

"Go on, you can say it, in the event of a flashback."

Batman nods. "It's not that I didn't trust you. I just thought it better to take some security precautions."

"It's okay, Batman," says Robin and his voice is amused rather than annoyed, "I get it. You're the kinda guy who likes to back up his back-up."

Batman represses a smile.

"But you didn't actually back up your back-up…did you? I mean, Martian Manhunter wasn't floating around somewhere as well? 'Cause I wouldn't have seen him with that camouflage thing he can do…"

"There are ways of spotting a Martian in camouflage mode if you know what to look for, but no, J'onn wasn't there tonight."

"Okay, cool. But…um…you think we can do the next patrol without back-up?"

Batman glances at him. "Provided there are no major emergencies, yes."

Robin makes a pleased noise. Then, after a moment, "How do you spot a Martian in camouflage mode? And, wow, that sounds like the opening to a bad joke!"

This time Batman smiles.

"No, seriously, Batman, how do you know if a Martian is in camouflage mode?"

"They can't blend seamlessly to their surroundings – there are certain disturbances in the air around them."

"Can you show me what to look for?"

Batman hits the button to open the hidden entrance to the cave before glancing at him. "You want me to add that to your training?"

"Uh, yeah. I need to know that stuff if the League, you know, turns evil or something."

Batman sighs. "You are spending too much time with Kid Flash."

Robin snorts. "Like you don't have a dozen contingency plans in case anyone in the League goes rogue!"

Batman doesn't respond. He had seventeen at last count.

"Do you think anyone else in the League has a contingency plan for evil Leaguers?" Robin continues.

"They'd better," Batman answers shortly, guiding the car into the cave entrance. "A rogue Leaguer would be a very dangerous thing indeed."

"Well, not if you're prepared. I mean, Superman could be taken down with kryptonite, right? But not the green one 'cause that can kill him if he's exposed to it for too long− the red kryptonite that drains his powers. And once he's incapacitated, you could work on fixing whatever had turned him evil in the first place. And Martian Manhunter and Aquaman are susceptible to heat, so you could totally use that to weaken them. Or with Flash, if you synthesized high-density polyurethane foam that he couldn't vibrate his molecules out of, then you–"

"Robin," Batman interrupts, parking the car and turning to face him with a frown, "how do you know what the League's weaknesses are?"

Robin blushes. "Um…I may have hacked your files a few weeks ago?"

Batman's eyes narrow.

"I was bored, okay! You wouldn't let me patrol and I wanted to read up more on some of the Leaguers I don't know so well."

Batman turns off the car. "Are you…interested in the League?"

"Well, yeah. I mean, if I'm going to join them one day…" Robin frowns. "You are going to let me join, right?"

"When you're old enough, but…"

"But, what?"

"It's interesting that you're talking about the League like this. According to Green Arrow, Speedy has been pestering him about membership ever since he turned eighteen. And Flash says Kid Flash has been asking a lot of questions."

Robin shrugs. "Well, we're interested in what the League does. I mean, our mentors are founding members and we all want to join someday."

Batman studies him. "You're serious about joining the League?"

Robin gives him an exasperated are-you-for-real look. "Of course."

"Then perhaps I can organize an induction day for you and the other protégés, maybe a tour of the League headquarters."

"You mean the Hall of Justice?! Like, for real? Batman, that would be awesome!"

"I'll speak to the other members about organizing something for next week. Maybe on the fourth when–"

"YES!" Robin fist pumps the air. "I'm so available on that date! We all are! Totally available!"

"It's Independence Day, Robin. Your friends may have plans."

"I promise you, they won't have plans once they hear this!" Robin's grin is manic. "Oh, man, what time is it in Central? Is it too late to call Wally?"

"Since it's after one in Gotham and time for bed, yes, it is too late to call Wally."

Robin slumps a little as Batman hits the release for the hood of the car. "Killjoy."

"Robin…"

"Fine, fine. I'll go to bed." He vaults out of the car and removes his mask just as Alfred joins them.

"Good evening, sirs. How was tonight's patrol?" The butler's voice is smooth, but Batman can see his nerves in the tightness around his eyes.

"It. Was. Awesome!" Dick informs him gleefully, performing a little dance. "Robin is back in business!"

Alfred's face relaxes. "I'm very pleased to hear that, young sir. There are some turkey club sandwiches waiting for you upstairs, so if you would wash up and change, please…"

"Okay, Alfred." Dick turns to Batman. "Are you going back out?"

"Just for a few hours."

"Okay. See you in the morning."

He darts towards the showers, and Alfred turns to Batman. "Did everything go well, sir?

Batman nods. "Better even than I'd hoped. He needed this, Alfred. I think he's really hit the turning point."

The smile that crosses Alfred's face is the most genuine he's expressed in months. "That boy's resilience never ceases to amaze me."

"Me either," Batman admits softly, before hitting the button to make the car turntable spin. "I'll be a few hours, Alfred. You head on to bed with Dick."

"Very well, sir. Breakfast at eleven?"

"No, nine. I have an important League meeting to prepare for next week."

"I will see you then, sir. Good night."

"Night, Alfred."

The hood slides back over the Batmobile and Batman peels out.