So, it's been a while, eh? I really don't have much of an excuse other than the chaos that has come over the world with the...uh...y'know, Backstreet Boys reunion concert ;) (And the US Govs response to that which is AN ENTIRE DIFFERENT TOPIC I COULD RANT ABOUT)

Anyway, I DO have some exciting news, though, that was also a factor in me not really updating anything. I HAVE A NEW WIP, in a fandom that I kind of got unintentionally sucked into, and so far it's progressing really well and I'm super proud of it. And the fandom it's apart of...?

BEETLEJUICE

It is so fun to write, I know EXACTLY where I want it to go, and the chemistry between the characters is SO INTERESTING to explore. It will also be a pretty hefty story compared to my other ones, as what I'm going to publish first is only one arc/part out of the 3 (possibly 4) I have planned.

All of that said, I hope you're all safe, healthy, and are considering checking out the first part of my Beetlejuice story!

Happy trails!

Chapter 16: The Music

Dick shouldn't be here. His entire being told him that he needed to get away, needed to run, and do so as fast as possible.

Alfred hurried back to the other side long, pleather couch, daintily placing the silver tray on the small mahogany table in front of them. He picked up his own cup of tea then promptly handed Dick his own steaming mug.

Through the heavy smell of fire from the burning fireplace Dick caught a whiff of the chocolate and peaked inside his mug, a soft grin alighting on his face when he saw the tiny marshmallows that he always insisted they buy as a kid floating in the hot chocolate.

Carefully taking a sip, Dick glanced around the shadowed, spacious gallery, noting that it hadn't seemed to change. All of the pictures still hung perfectly straight, the vase he had managed to fix without getting in trouble still stood proudly on the marble pedestal in the far corner, and the looming presence of the portrait above the fireplace in front of them was exactly how it had been all those years ago.

"So, I believe I deserve an explanation as to why I was not made aware you were back on this side of the country, Master Dick." Alfred said, glancing at Dick as he took another sip from his tea.

Dick barely managed to hide his wince. "It's not like I was purposely avoiding you." he answered softly, pointedly staring at the dancing flames as Alfred placed his cup down and turned to face him.

"But you are avoiding something, are you not?" Dick took another large sip from his mug. Leave it to Alfred to be able to perfectly analyze his mental state after only being back together for the better part of an hour.

"Yeah. And by coming here, I'm basically accomplishing the opposite of that." Dick shifted. He took a glance at Alfred and was met with a mixture of pity and determination.

"Master Dick, you know that Master Bruce was only looking out for your best interests-"

"By trying to take away who I am?" Dick snapped back, immediately dropping his snarl at Alfreds wide eyes. He sighed, running a hand through his damp hair. "That doesn't sound like something a father should do, does it? Even if it was 'in by best interest'."

An uneasy silence settled over them, only broken by the occasional snap of a log as parts of it fell to ash.

Dick squeezed his eyes shut, leaning heavily against his knees. A hand came up to run over his face. He jerked slightly when his hand didn't run over his mask, his whole body tensing, before he remembered he left it back with his parents.

When had it become so natural to wear that mask everywhere he went? Even in the privacy of his own room? Dick heaved a large sigh, rubbing the bridge of his nose.

"You are correct." Alfred whispered, causing Dick to whip towards him with wide eyes. The man looked pained as he continued. "It is not something a father would do. He did what he has done ever since his parents were murdered. He acted through his intellect, relaying the risks and rewards and deciding the risks outweigh those rewards." Alfred sighed, eyes falling shut. "The poor boy rarely acts through his heart. If he had on that day, Master Bruce and I may have never lost you."

Dick started, all thoughts coming to a halt. Alfred continued to sit there, eyes shut. When he pried then open they shone with deep grief. Dick flinched, setting aside his now empty mug.

"Alfred, you're not the one who lost me." Dick sputtered, anger starting to swell and voice rising. "Bruce is the one who lost me. Who lost all the faith I had in him. All the trust I gave him. All of the..." Dick trailed, shaking his head, curbing his anger. "I may have left, but you never lost me."

"Oh, my boy." Alfred said after a beat, moving closer to place a warm, stable hand on Dicks shoulder. "As soon as you left that cave, I knew you were lost. And I was correct. The boy I am talking to now bears little resemblance to the one that grew up in these halls."

As Dick continued to gaze at Alfreds pitiful, humble expression, he fought to trap down the needles that were rising in his chest. His mind was buzzing with as much ferocity as a hornets nest at Alfred's words. And if he didn't get it under control he knew it would explode, stabbing at anything that he could get his sights on.

Alfred didn't deserve that. He had been the only one to try to reach out to him, at least in those early days. He had sounded worried sick, asking him to come home. Alfred had cared, still cares, and while everyone else from his previous life just accepted that he was gone, Alfred didn't.

Dick shot to his feet, shrugging Alfred's hand off of his shoulder as the man rose with him.

"Of course I'm not the same. I'm not the naive kid that you knew before, no matter how much you might want me to be. That's all in the past." He stomped away, coming to a stop right in front of the flames, taking comfort in the gusts of warm air.

He became lost in his thoughts, watching the flames flicker across his vision as he remembered sleepless nights, the unrelenting hunger, and the frost covered mornings. He shivered, bringing his arms up to hug himself as he heard the clack of Alfreds shoes approaching him.

"Master Bruce has always cared about you, Richard." Dick tensed at the use of his full name, but Alfred plowed on. "When he first brought you into this unrelenting war, it was with the hope that he was preventing you from turning into him."

Dick swallowed, squeezing his arms tight as his own words, and apparently Bruce's, were thrown back into his face.

"And while I have no doubt that being homeless changed your psyche, I believe something else has occurred that radically changed that young boy I knew into the one Master Bruce feared you would become." Alfred was beside him now. Slowly he lifted his hands until they rested on both of Dicks shoulders, turning him so they were face-to-face.

Dick peaked up through his now wet eyelashes. Alfred squeezed his shoulders, rubbing small circles into his shoulders with his thumbs.

His hands were like an anchor to the world, and Dick felt more grounded than since he boarded the jet and flew back across the country. He melted into the embrace. All of his mental walls shook, and it took all of Dicks effort to keep them from collapsing completely.

He wanted so badly to tell Alfred. About everything. Everything that had been weighing on him since he hit the streets up to this point. It would be so easy, and he knew Alfred would make him feel better. He always did.

But with a jolt Slades mask rose into the forefront of his mind, and it was like an iron lock had been thrust into his lips.

He couldn't tell Alfred about that. There was a good chance he already knew about the apprenticeship. Dick doubted Bruce would keep that a secret. However, that wasn't what Dick was worried about.

Slade never said that he couldn't tell anyone about the offer, but Dick knew that it was implied. And he didn't even want to think about what would happen if the mercenary found out he told someone.

The thought of Alfred being in danger made the decision to keep quiet quite easy. But, much to Dicks chagrin, Alfred seemed set on getting some kind of answer.

"Whatever happened, whatever you are afraid of, I promise I will not judge. I will even go to great lengths to hide whatever it is from Master Bruce, just as I am going to be hiding your visit tonight." When Dick remained silent, Alfred let out a breath. "If you cannot tell me, then at least assure me that you are not in any danger?"

That really was the question, wasn't it. No, Dick wasn't in danger at that moment. Even if Slade threatened him, he wanted Robin as his apprentice. Slade wouldn't majorly hurt him, or go so far as to kill him.

But he was always in danger. From the moment he was born he had been in constant danger. Trapeze artists' faces their own risks in their profession, as evidenced by his parents demise. And then he was in danger as he was thrust into the Gotham Juvenile Detention Center, left to fend for himself. That was pure danger. Finally, he was roped into becoming a vigilante.

He would never be completely safe. There would be moments that he felt content, that he could let his guard down, but never safe. Around every corner there would be a new situation, a new person, another Slade that would make his life Hell.

Dicks breath stuttered. He would never be free. He was born into this danger, and the only escape would be to completely fall off the face of the Earth.

Did that mean it didn't matter if he accepted Slade's offer? He would still be in danger. That wouldn't change at all.

But Slade was powerful. He could protect Dick until he was ready to face all the danger that had been thrust on to him. Slade would train him to be better, to overcome the danger and make himself more lethal than the dangers surrounding him.

Dicks eyes widened and he wrested himself from Alfreds grip. His hands shook as he stalked towards the door, pulling his hood up.

"Master Dick, if you would just-"

"I have to go." Dick rasped, pulling open the door soundlessly and stalking towards the front entrance. He distantly heard Alfred calling his name yet again and the clicking of his shoes as he pursued him, but before he could catch up Dick was already heaving open the door.

The desperate cry of "Richard!" was the last thing Dick heard before the door slammed behind him. He glided through the front garden, bird songs starting to come to life in the early hours of the morning. But he heard none of it.

His mind was racing with denials and excuses, his entire body now shaking as he went on autopilot to find his way to the front gate. He registered that he was climbing over the steel fence, landing and rolling on the ground to melt back into a mindless walk.

He needed to be alone. Things were spiraling even more out of control, and if he didn't get a grip everything was going to fall apart even more.

In the next moment Dick found himself back in the cemetery, blankly staring down at the mask sitting between his parents' graves. His entire body slumped. He grasped the edges of his coat with still shaking hands and brought it tighter about himself.

All of his denials and excuses dimmed into a dull roar within his mind as he stared at the simple piece plastic and cloth. One that dominated his entire life.

It wouldn't be too hard to just disappear. He's done it before, and Dick knew he could do it again. The thought ran itself ragged within his mind, so tantalizingly close and reachable.

But with a sigh he crouched down, picked up the mask and placed it over his eyes once more.

Like a piece of armor had been returned Robin straightened, closing his eyes tight. Taking a deep breath, he released it, watching his breath curl into the air.

This was his cross to bear, his life to deal with, and Robin wasn't about to run from it anymore. He was going to face his demons face-to-face.

Finally, Robin was going to face the music.

Alright, not as long as what I was hoping for, but it's a chapter! Not the most exciting, but Robin is done running! The only question left is if that is the right decision...

Again, sorry for the wait and that it's not a particularly long chapter, but I hope you enjoyed anyway!

~Atatami