Epilogue:

The next morning:

The first thing Bruce saw when he opened his eyes was the tousled dark hair of his ward. Dick was curled up at the foot of the king-size bed, fast asleep. Bruce sat up and, for a moment, just stared at the peaceful look on the youthful features.

"Stop staring," Dick mumbled.

Bruce was not surprised that teen could feel his gaze.

"How long have you been in here?" the man asked.

"Since you fell asleep," the boy replied as he opened his eyes. "Figured I'd better be close in case I decided to jump off the roof."

"Dick, it didn't happen. You were drugged with something and it was all in your mind."

"I know," the teenager sighed, "but I was worried that maybe I was dreaming that all of this was a dream. And I knew that you could stop me if I tried to do something."

"Are you ready to talk about it?" Bruce asked gently.

"It's just…I mean…I've never even thought about killing, um, you know. You don't have to…I don't want you to worry about it. I would never do it; I would never want to do it."

"I know, chum. You don't have to worry about it, either, okay? If anything like what you've been telling me ever happened, you know I would find a way to fix it."

"But, what if you couldn't? What if it does really happen? What if I saw the future or something?"

"Dick, I'm going to go back to that building tonight. I'm going to find out who did this – and why and how – and then I'm going to come home and tell you everything."

"I'm going with you!"

"Absolutely not. I don't want you near that building. That green gas really affected you and I'm not willing to risk having that happen again."

There was a long pause and then Dick nodded.

"I don't want it to happen again, either," he agreed quietly.

"Did you sleep at all, kiddo?"

"I tried. But every time I fell asleep, I saw myself jumping off a roof so I stopped trying around midnight. That's when I came in here. I keep hearing his voice and there's a lingering feeling of terror, but I don't really feel afraid. I don't know how to describe it."

"Well, you were engulfed in gas for probably three or four hours and you thought you could fly when you woke up. Your dream was obviously extremely realistic so it's not surprising that you're still scared."

"But I'm not! I'm not scared of him anymore and I'm not worried about doing everything he says because I know he's not real. There's no, um…what's his name?"

The last three words were whispered. Relief flashed through the eyes of Bruce Wayne. Apparently, Dick was beginning to forget the small details. Hopefully, he would eventually forget everything. Bruce really didn't want his ward thinking - every day - about realistic hallucinations of death.

Suddenly, the teenager's eyes rolled back in his head and he fell backwards off the bed.

"Dick!" Bruce yelled, nearly jumping out of bed in his haste to get to his ward.

The boy was lying on his back, not moving. Bruce checked everything: Dick's breathing was even, his pulse was steady and there was no blood around his small body. Gently, the man put a hand on his ward's shoulder.

"Can you hear me, kiddo? Wake up for me; open your eyes."

A puff of green air floated out of Dick's mouth, just like the ones from last night. Then, he opened his eyes.

"Why am I on the floor?" he asked, confusion surrounding the question.

"You passed out and fell off the bed," Bruce replied.

"Why was I on your bed?"

This question was full of bewilderment and the man didn't know where to start.

"Do you remember anything?" Bruce asked after a short pause.

"I had some weird dream. We were checking out a tip and got separated and I was drugged with something and had a dream in the dream I was already having. Some guy wanted revenge so he tried to get me to…"

Dick paused, not wanting to say the words that he didn't know Bruce already knew.

"That wasn't a dream. It really happened, kiddo."

"Are you serious?!" the boy shouted as he abruptly sat up. "I really tried to, uh, kill, um…I don't know how to say this."

"Oh, dear."

Alfred's voice floated in from the hallway, startling both of his charges.

"No, chum," Bruce responded. "That part – attempting to kill yourself – was the dream. We did get separated and you did get drugged and the rest was all one realistic hallucination."

"I would never, Bruce!" Dick nearly shouted again.

"I know, Dick," the man replied evenly. "We just discussed this before you passed out but we can do it again if we need to."

A bunch of tiny puzzle pieces began popping out of wispy clouds in the teenager's mind. They floated toward each other and eventually revealed several giant memories. Dick saw everything, remembered everything, and relief filled his body.

The pause was long but both Bruce and Alfred waited patiently. Dick was staring at nothing but his eyes were full of a mixture of disbelief and amazement. That was followed by skepticism outlined with amusement and, after several minutes, relief. His entire body was tense but neither man was worried. It was obvious that things were coming together, so the men gave the boy time to process everything.

Finally his light-blue eyes re-focused and he whispered, "Wow."

"Indeed, Master Dick," Alfred stated softly.

"I know exactly what happened," the teenager declared. "I remember every tiny detail and imaginary pain is filling my body."

"Where does it hurt, chum?" Bruce immediately asked.

"Nothing hurts, I just remember it. It's all just a tiny ache, everywhere that I was injured a tiny flash of pain raced across and disappeared. I'm fine, and I know who did it."

"You…do?" the man said incredulously. "But we didn't recognize the voice, and we've never seen that kind of gas."

"Yes, we have," the boy laughed. "It's just never been green! Usually it's pink! And it's never lasted that long. Usually it dissipates after five or ten minutes!"

"I don't understand, young sir," Alfred stated.

"Why didn't Ba…um, you, get drugged, also?" Dick queried with a grin.

"I'm lost, Dick," Bruce reluctantly confessed.

"Who doesn't really like me but loves you?"

Bruce had no idea where his ward was going with this and that irritated him slightly.

"Get to the point," he demanded, although his tone wasn't even close to being angry.

"She's been experimenting and wanted to try it out. It's not hard to disguise a voice, especially when it's so ghost-like. She didn't want to worry about anything happening to you; that's why she separated us first!"

"Dick," Bruce growled.

"Think about it," the teenager stated. "A female villain, doesn't like me but won't hurt you by killing me, doesn't mind if I'm hurt, loves unusual mazes…"

"Catwoman?!" both Alfred and Bruce exclaimed in disbelief.

"Exactly!" Dick nearly crowed. "I don't know how she made it green but, if you think back to the voice, you could hear her distinctive 'r' sound. Close your eyes and concentrate on hearing that voice again."

Bruce did as instructed. And then he heard it. Dick was right; the 'r' was rolled ever so slightly. That's why the voice had sounded slightly familiar. But he had been so worried about Robin that he had completely ignored the tiny clue.

"Sometimes we're kind of dense," Dick commented with a chuckle. "In our defense, though, she did a good job with disguising everything. Green is definitely not her color, her gasses have never been that strong and she called me the 'sidekick bird of a flying rodent'. Catwoman would never call you a flying rodent! She totally got us."

"But what she did to you…" Bruce began angrily.

"Is over!" Dick stated with another chuckle. "Man, we are never going to live this down. She was probably watching the whole time we were in that building. I looked like an idiot – trying to fly, being angry at not having a superpower, passing out all the time. You were fine and I wasn't. The perfect way for revenge without really doing anything to me!"

"You're right," Bruce murmured. "You weren't really hurt but she had you terrified. I was worried but she knew nothing real was going to happen."

"Well, I did pass out a few times and got shaky and had a headache and some other things but those are all little side effects. Probably nothing unexpected from a new drug. I can't believe we fell for it!"

"This is a bit…embarrassing," Bruce admitted. "You're right, she's not going to let us forget this anytime soon."

"If you are feeling better, Master Dick, perhaps you would be so kind as to get up off the floor. A quick examination is in order, young sir, especially since you fell backwards."

The teenager did as he was told and, much to everyone's relief, was proclaimed unscathed within five minutes.

"How are we going to get her back, Bruce?" Dick asked eagerly.

"Get her back? Why don't we just find and arrest her instead."

"Yeah, of course, but we have to do something! Besides, has she actually committed a crime yet? We can't arrest her until she does."

"Drugging a duly deputized member of the Gotham City Police Force is a crime, chum."

"I'm not that important; she'll be out in two days!"

"Master Dick, might I suggest that you go to your own room to clean up? Surely this is something you two can discuss over breakfast. Or better yet, after breakfast while writing up your report of yesterday's activities."

"Slave driver," Dick declared cheekily, smirking at the ever-patient butler.

Alfred raised one eyebrow in both disapproval and amusement. The teenager saluted and dashed out the door, heading for his room and a shower.

"Not that important," Bruce echoed. "He really takes himself for granted, doesn't he?"

"Indeed, sir," Alfred replied. "Now, perhaps you would also like to clean up. Breakfast will be ready in half an hour, Master Bruce."

With that, the butler turned around and left the room, closing the door behind him. Bruce turned toward the bathroom, pondering the thought of 'getting her back'. Her plan, which Dick had described perfectly, was impressive. Not many people would be able to pull off a scheme like that: hurting the Boy Wonder without really hurting him and not allowing anything to happen to the Caped Crusader.

Grinning slightly, Bruce left one last comment hanging in the air as he disappeared into his bathroom:

"That darn cat."

THE END

A/N: An alternate version of "Silent Retribution" recently appeared in my mind and I'm currently working on it. What would happen if Conall O'Reilly's bomb - the one on the transfer truck - failed to go off and Robin really did go to prison? You can find out in the near future! :-)