A/N: Happy Father's Day to my favorite father/son pairing of all time!

Entropy

Entropy: the amount of chaos or disorder present in a system.

The first time had been brought about by an exhausted mind and beyond tortured body. It shouldn't have occurred at all, of course, but Robin had been drunk on the feelings of invincibility that a mask and cape could give.

It had all started with a call, as most disasters did, as Batman and Robin patrolled their city. It had been an unusually quiet night, a fact that Robin could tell was worrying Batman even though the man hadn't said a word all night. Robin had been working with his mentor for long enough to know what different degrees of narrow eyed looks meant.

The call had been innocent enough, coming in over Batman's comm. to inform him that residents by Gotham's wharf were calling in strange activities happening in one of the fish packaging plants. Knowing what a sudden disturbance on an otherwise peaceful night could mean, Batman had stayed silently unmoving for a long while after the connection went dead.

Trying hard not to fidget with excitement at the prospect of some action, Robin mirrored his mentor's crouched position as his masked eyes watched carefully for any movement. Gotham's Dark Knight was not showing any inclination to cease his quiet glowering of the empty streets, and Robin was about to say something when a firm voice finally spoke.

"Robin, I want you to head back to the cave. I'll deal with this one alone." With no further explanation Batman was suddenly gone, nothing more than a dark figure in the distance the next time Robin blinked.

Huffing out an indignant breath, Robin cursed Batman's aloofness and envied the man's perfected disappearing act all in the same thought. Left by himself on the roof of some random residential apartment building, Robin sat for a moment weighing up his options.

He could either do as was ordered and go home to safety like a good little boy…or he could head over to the wharf and watch from a safe distance as the action unfolded. Batman would probably be too distracted to notice him as long as he hid well, and as long as he left early enough he would still beat the other home.

Besides, Robin reasoned with a grin as he took off after Batman, what kind of superhero in training would he be if he didn't observe and learn?

It took Robin roughly ten minutes to get down to the wharf and another few to locate the dimly lit packaging plant. On first glance, it didn't seem as if anything sinister, or even disruptive, was happening anywhere on the silent wharf. Nothing but the sound of gentle waves and sleepy gulls could be picked up, and the salty air held no hints of smoke or any other foreign scents.

The noticeable lack of anything wrong unsettled Robin to no end as he wondered where Batman was. Maybe the baddies were on the move and Batman was tailing them, in which case Robin should really just get home and watch some TV.

In the few moments that Robin took to survey the area and make the decision to leave, he made a fatal mistake that never in his life would he ever make again. He let his guard down.

The next time consciousness washed over Robin's body he felt like he'd been bludgeoned in the head with a bat. In hindsight, he probably had. Blurry eyesight was not helped at all by the dim lighting of the room, but eventually Robin's vision cleared enough for him to take stock of where he was.

The overpowering smell of fish was the first indication that Robin was now inside the packaging plant he'd just been outside of. The fact that he was currently surrounded by the slick bodies of numerous wide eyed sea dwellers only confirmed it.

As Robin tried to shift positions and sit up, a searing pain began to radiate from both of his shoulders to pull a sharp scream from his throat before he could stop it. Pain slowly dulling, Robin slowly rotated his wrists but found that he couldn't. Both of his shoulders had been dislocated and his wrists bound to whatever surface he was laying on. And he was surrounded by fish.

A low, twisted sounding chuckle snapped Robin's attention to the mad looking man who was slowly striding towards him. Having not noticed him before, Robin had the sinking feeling that his scream had probably called him, and thus making any escape attempt that much more difficult.

"So, Robin, we finally meet." The roughly sewn potato sack of a hood that the well dressed man wore made the place where his eyes should have been nothing but depthless black holes. The eye holes never left Robin's face as the man slowly sat down on a stool that had been placed beside, what Robin had determined to be, some kind of work table that he was currently strapped to.

"I have just been…dying to introduce myself, you see. It isn't every day that one of the worst thorns in your side gets a weak spot, after all." The man leaned in closer, elbows resting on knobby bent knees as his eyes still never moved from Robin's carefully blanked face. "Do you know who I am?"

Silence, Robin quickly decided, would be his best friend. He would not say a word to this man whose profile he knew and could recite at a moment's demand, just as he could a hundred others that were in the Batcave's archives.

"Clearly, you do." The voice had dropped to a slow, deadly soft pitch that made Robin want to run as far and fast as possible. "I suppose, then, that you are well aware of my preferred method of chemical torture." Scarecrow's posture was still relaxed, his tone conversational despite the obvious ill intent beneath it.

Seeing Scarecrow reach towards him, Robin was ready to jerk away at the last second even if it did rip an arm off. However, Scarecrow's hand merely plucked one of the dead fish by Robin's head from the table before retreating. Eyes sharp but wary, Robin watched as Scarecrow lazily produced a shiny silver knife from one of his suit pockets. The knife was held up to the poor lighting as it was fondly admired by the still unseen eyes.

"While chemical torture gives me great pleasure in being able to make people writhe in agony without having to lay a finger on them, I do also very much enjoy my torture physical. Physical torture, you see, can also mess with the mind." Scarecrow's eyes returned to Robin as the knife slowly came down to glide ever so lovingly over the captive fish's body.

"Do you know how to gut a fish, Robin?" Scarecrow asked softly, inclining his head a little as the knife he held sank easily into the fish's soft flesh.

Slowly realizing what Scarecrow was planning on doing to him after demonstrating on the fish, Robin's eyes widened in horror as they glanced into the dead gaze of the knife's first victim.

"Ah, there it is." Scarecrow sounded pleased as he sank the knife slowly further into the fish's belly. "That look of realization that your life will soon be coming to an agonizing end by my hands."

"You're sick." Robin whispered, eyes still glued to the fish in Scarecrow's hand as its innards were cut from its body one by one.

"Sick, am I?" Scarecrow wondered as he tossed the gutted fish away, relishing in the slight wince Robin let show as the fish met concrete with a wet smack. "Let's see how sick you think I am after I'm done with you."

Robin's mind blocked out most of what happened next. He could remember the agonizing leisurely pace that the knife took in slicing into his body over and over as he fought to keep the screams in. Vision once again blurred as Robin felt his mind trying to black out, the sharp flashes of silver being the only tangible thing that he could focus on.

A crimson stained hand held Robin's chest firmly down when he tried valiantly to struggle away, and by the time silver steel was coated and dripping with his own blood he couldn't stop the screams anymore.

The ear piercing crash and the sound of shattering glass were only partially retained in Robin's memory. What he could remember after that was the sight of Batman, angrier than Robin had ever seen him, beating the life out of Scarecrow. As drops of blood that were finally not his own splattered across the floor, Robin succumbed to his body's plea to shut down.

He was safe.

The next time Robin opened his eyes the first thing he noticed was that his mask was gone, the second being that he was apparently back in his bed at Wayne Manor with nothing but a bedside lamp lighting the dark room. No longer Robin, Dick experimentally moved his right hand and was relieved to find that it was once again free to move, but he also found that any arm movements made his shoulders hurt like hell.

Gasping a little at the sharp reminder of the abuse his shoulders had taken, Dick moved his attention downward and found that he had been dressed in a pair of his sleeping pants with his heavily bandaged upper body left bare. Dick let out a gusty sigh as he settled back into his bed's pillows and closed his eyes, accepting the fact that he was seriously hurting and that he was in even more serious trouble with Bruce.

Speak of the devil, just as Dick was thinking of all the horrible punishments he'd have to endure his room door opened to reveal a tired looking Bruce whose hair was still damp from his shower. Padding over the soft carpet to get to Dick's bed, Bruce didn't say a word as he set the glass of water and bottle of pills he'd been carrying on the nightstand.

Blue eyes were wary but trusting as Bruce carefully helped Dick sit up before opening the pill bottle and shaking one out. As Dick took his pill and drank his water, Bruce sat himself down on the edge of the bed to wait. Dick took his time in draining his glass, sure that the second he was done there'd be a severe scolding waiting for him.

However, even after Dick had drawn out the task of drinking water for far longer than any normal person could and had set the glass down, Bruce remained silent as his dark eyes watched Dick's every movement with an unreadable expression. Sitting up for so long with his body in the condition that it was in was becoming increasingly painful, but Dick didn't dare shift under Bruce's gaze to try and alleviate some of the pressure.

A large hand rested lightly on Dick's shoulder as Bruce leaned forward to guide him back into laying down, the man taking obvious care in tucking him in without aggravating his wounds. Even as Bruce made sure that he was comfortable and switched off the lamp, Dick was still half-expecting an explosion.

Bruce's weight lifted from the bed as he stood, warm hand ruffling Dick's bangs briefly before his silhouette moved towards the still open door. Dick watched as Bruce paused in the doorway with his hand on the handle and inner turmoil evident.

"Don't scare me like that again." Bruce's voice was quiet and rough, having not been used all night, but it was as naked and sincere as Dick had ever heard it.

Closing the door quietly behind him, Bruce missed the tears that had started to stream down Dick's cheeks.

The second time occurred just two days after the first. It was a Monday and Dick had school, despite Bruce's assurance that he could stay home if he needed to. Bruce had been reading the paper when Dick entered the kitchen dressed for school, and his voice had been gruff in the way that it got when he was genuinely worried. Dick and Alfred shared knowing looks but said nothing as Bruce turned back to his reading.

As Dick sat down to breakfast, still stiff from the now covered bandages, he assured the two mother hens that he would be fine. He had an impeccable attendance record that he'd really like to keep up, and after promising Alfred that he'd call if he was in too much pain Dick was out the door.

Dick was in a lot of pain, he conceded to himself as he walked into Gotham Academy, but he could handle it. The painkillers took most of the edge off anyways, and besides that he had a history report to turn in. Sitting at his computer all weekend to finish it up had been no small feat, but he'd finished it and he was going to turn the damn thing in on time if it killed him.

"Hey Grayson, where did you get those bruises from?" A loud, haughty voice suddenly rang out across the courtyard, making Dick's eyes slide closed in resignation. Perhaps Alfred's suggestion of makeup to cover the cuts and bruises dotted across his face hadn't been as ridiculous as he'd thought.

Tyson was the biggest, stupidest meathead that Dick had ever had the misfortune to meet. Hanging onto his position at the academy by a tenuous thread, Tyson had always bullied Dick for being the smartest student.

"Does your boyfriend like beating you up before fucking you up the ass?" Tyson was also convinced that Dick was a flaming homosexual, which he was but no one actually knew that.

By this time, Tyson's Neanderthal bellowing had attracted the attention of all the students that had been milling around. Dealing with Tyson on a good day was tiring enough, today just the thought itself was enough to make Dick want to crawl under a rock.

Knowing that making Tyson chase him would just make the inevitable confrontation worse, Dick slowed his steps to allow the dumbass to catch up and have his scene. Sometimes biting the bullet was just easier.

This time, however, Tyson didn't feel like publicly humiliating Dick with his group of cronies like he usually did. Instead, the bigger teen roughly grabbed Dick's bag from his shoulder, cackled at the pained gasp the action elicited, and shoved Dick to the ground before walking off.

"How well do you think your bag can swim?" Tyson called over his shoulder as he disappeared into the school building.

Fuck, Dick cursed silently as he let his forehead fall to the courtyard's hard flagstones. If he ran and was willing to get into a scuffle he could probably save his bag, but judging by how loudly his body was screaming at him that wasn't an option.

Cursing the day that hadn't even begun yet, Dick pushed himself off the ground with careful slowness. Aware of all the eyes still on him, Dick resolutely ignored them as he straightened his uniform as much as he could with his limited range of motion. Hearing the warning bell begin to ring but not really giving much of a damn, Dick let the throngs of students stream into the building before him as he made his unhurried way towards the pool area.

By the time Dick entered the humid air of the pool, the morning's swim class was already standing in a line and sniggering at the objects floating in the pool, Tyson amongst them. Dick had to give the swim teacher some of the hatred aimed at his peers, as the man seemed more concerned with his smartphone than his unruly class.

Light blue eyes were blank as they took in the sight of his waterlogged bag, floating writing utensils, and utterly destroyed notebooks and papers. Knowing that eyebrows would be raised and rumors spread, but not wanting to see the look on Alfred's face if he came home with a destroyed uniform, Dick shed his clothing to reveal the bandages underneath.

The sniggers had died down instantly at the sight of shocking white covering the entirety of Dick's chest, shoulders, and abdomen. Stripped down to his thankfully black boxers, Dick was very aware of all the stares on him as he eased himself into the chilly pool.

It took five minutes filled with nothing but stunned silence for Dick to retrieve all of his destroyed school supplies. By the time Dick hauled himself out of the chlorinated water, bandages soaked through and boxers dripping, the teacher had finally looked up and was yelling at him for improper pool dress.

Shoving his sopping notebooks and papers into his bag and throwing his dry clothes over a shoulder, Dick left the pool room without a word or backwards glance. Making a short stop in his history classroom to drop his still somewhat legible report on his stunned teacher's desk, the half naked teen proceeded to storm out the front gates with as much dignity as he could muster.

Dick walked through the manor door right as Bruce was leaving. Doing a double take to confirm that the short body that had just slid past him was indeed his unclothed adopted kid, Bruce stood motionless as Dick angrily tossed his still soaked bag into the nearest trashcan and his dampened clothes in the general direction of the laundry room.

Alfred appeared in the entry hall as Dick was stomping up the stairs, the whole spectacle somewhat ruined by Dick having to pause every other step to wince. Knowing that he was no longer going to work, Bruce stepped back into the house and closed the door as he loosened his tie.

Coming to the unspoken agreement to give Dick some space, especially since the slamming of his door was loud enough to echo, Alfred gathered up the discarded heap of clothes as Bruce rescued Dick's bag and carried it into the laundry room to dry. Bruce took a quick trip up the stairs to change out of his suit into something more comfortable and grab a roll of bandages from the bathroom before heading to Dick's door.

Bruce had the good grace to knock before entering, even though no audible invitation in had been made. Dick hadn't bothered to put any clothes on before climbing back into his still unmade bed and shoving his head under a pillow. Wondering if he was this bad as a teenager, Bruce opened the curtains with an exasperated sigh before going towards the bed.

Ignoring Dick's whine when the pillow was removed, Bruce coaxed his son's uncooperative body into a sitting position before setting about changing out the bandages. Bruce noticed that in the silence of his task a permanent frown was tugging at Dick's lips as his averted eyes fought off moisture.

"You're probably going to get a phone call from school soon, so I guess you might as well get a heads up." Dick's voice was dull and his eyes still refused to meet Bruce's as he went on to recount his half hour at school.

"You walked home?" Was Bruce's only furrow browed comment, causing Dick's expression to go slack with disbelief as blue eyes searched dark for some rationality.

Bruce's cell phone beeping cheerfully from his jeans pocket prevented any further talk as he answered it. Talking with his light but authoritative multibillionaire tone to a concerned counselor, Bruce stood from the bed and moved to Dick's dresser with the teen's eyes following his every move. Throwing a clean pair of boxers, cargos, and comfily worn long sleeve shirt at Dick's face, Bruce left the room with a quirked smile and the phone still at his ear.

Dick took the pointed hint to pull himself together with good humor as he got dressed and headed downstairs, his chest lighter than it'd been all day. Alfred did a fair amount of fussing over Dick once the teen entered the kitchen, and once assured that Dick's smile wasn't forced proceeded to sit him down at the counter.

The rest of the day passed lazily as Dick, Bruce, and Alfred enjoyed a lunch of homemade soup and then an afternoon of movies and snacks tucked comfortably in the multimedia room. Dick had skipped school for the first time and Bruce had skipped work to spend the afternoon arguing with Dick over which Bond film was the best. That made Dick happier than he could ever say.

What made him even happier, however, was the next morning when he entered the kitchen and Alfred lay the morning's paper open for him to see the large black and white photo. Trussed up like a bunch of Thanksgiving turkeys with truly traumatized looks on their faces was Tyson and a few of his friends who took part in harassing Dick on a daily basis.

The story underneath the photo told of how the boys were found early that morning by Gotham police babbling profusely about how they were sorry. What they were sorry for and how they got in their predicament continued to baffle the police as they cut the teens down.

Grinning from ear to ear and feeling like he could take on the world with the immense feelings welling in his chest, Dick turned as footsteps signaled Bruce's entrance to the kitchen. Bruce was caught off guard by the tight squeezing his midsection was experiencing as Dick gave him a good long hug before grabbing his school bag and bouncing out the door.

Turning bewildered eyes to Alfred, Bruce received no explanation as the butler refolded the paper for him and hummed merrily to himself.

The third time fell on a Saturday morning a few months later. Dick was once again in his school's pool area, only this time there were a lot more people around. It was the state swimming final, and schools from all around the area had gathered at Gotham Academy's sizeable pool to compete.

Despite his short stature, Dick was actually a very good swimmer and had made the school team at the beginning of the season. Making it to the finals through his constant injuries as Robin had been agony at times, but here he was stretching and warming up for his first event with his friend Wally chatting his ear off. Wally was a runner, both with and without a superhero suit on, but he had somehow managed to tag along with Central City High's swim team to cheer on his friend.

As the two of them were talking over the excited hum in the air and trying to adjust Dick's goggles right, a sickeningly familiar snicker reached Dick's ear. Turning his head almost reluctantly, Dick was met with the sight of a very smug looking Tyson with his hands on his hips only partially covered by his tiny black speedo.

"Aw, the little fairy is getting moral support from his pansy boyfriend." Tyson taunted, his smirk widening as Dick had to physically hold Wally back. "I can't believe you actually made the finals with me. I'd have thought that a faggot like you would be too concerned about his clothes or some other girly shit."

"Fuck off, Tyson. I'm not in the mood right now." Dick snapped as he had to dig his heels into the floor to keep Wally from decking the idiot in the face. "Wals, stop trying to get me disqualified." Dick finally hissed as he gave Wally's collarbone a quick nip.

"Ouch! Hey, I was only trying to defend you here." Wally grumbled as he finally stopped struggling to rub at his abused skin.

"How cute, the two little fa-"

"Come on Tyson, you don't want to be late." The appearance of a burly, balding Mr. Thorman at his son's shoulder cut off the insult as the man beamed proudly. "Let your swimming do the talking, eh?"

As Tyson walked off with his father, he turned back to shoot one last sneer in Dick's direction, to which Wally responded to with a certain hand gesture that had Dick smacking his friend upside the head.

"Stop reacting, it only encourages him."

Wally had his mouth open to retort when it suddenly snapped shut, green eyes widening upon sensing a presence behind him that usually spelled doom. Taking a moment to smack some sense into Wally, Dick turned to grin up at an amused looking Bruce.

"You made it," Dick was obviously happy while trying hard not to show it, even Wally rolled his eyes at Dick's obvious façade.

"Of course I did." Bruce smiled, oblivious to the enamored gazes he was receiving from all the moms in the vicinity. "What's gotten Wally riled?"

Sighing as the reminder caused Wally to growl and glare over to where Tyson was getting a pep talk from the swim coach, Dick rested a calming hand on the taller teen's shoulder. "Tyson's just being a jerk, as usual."

A dark scowl flitted momentarily across Bruce's face, prompting both Dick and Wally to elbow him before any more of the Dark Knight leaked through. Shaking his head, Bruce gave Dick a clap on the shoulder as the swimmers were called to their blocks.

"Swim circles around him." Wally called to Dick as Bruce dragged him off to the bleachers set up around the edges of the room.

Rolling his eyes at his friend's over exuberance, Dick shed his swim cover and stepped up onto his block next to Tyson's. He and Tyson had been the only two male swimmers from Gotham to make the finals, and Dick was determined to win. He had three events, the 400m freestyle, the 200m butterfly, and the 400m medley. If Dick could take first in all events he'd take the overall state title despite not participating in the backstroke.

The swimmers were told to take their mark, and at the shrill signal of a whistle all ten dived smoothly into the water. Hitting the water, Dick felt the coolness wash over him as he pushed what speed he'd gained from his kick off. The other swimmers would have their body build as an advantage over him, but Dick knew for a fact that he could maintain a fast speed for an incredible amount of time when pushed to.

The first pool length always went the fastest, and before Dick knew it he was diving underwater to execute his turn off the wall. Gaining an explosive body's length from his turn, Dick glanced to his side as he came back above water. Tyson was practically at his shoulder.

Gritting his teeth in determination, Dick continued swimming as he refused to give up his early lead. Another length of the pool signaled another turn, and the cheering of the crowd came and went as Dick's mind focused on his goal.

On the last length it was clear that some of the swimmers were slowing, but Dick and Tyson kept their speed as they raced towards the end. At the last 50m they both burst forth in a two man race, and a for a moment Dick feared that Tyson would win simply because his arms were longer, but the judge watching Dick's lane shot his hand up just before Tyson's judge. Dick had won.

Cheers came from the spectators as all swimmers finished their laps. A very loud Mr. Thorman, whose voice could be clearly heard over the others even under water, shouted out, "Don't worry son, you'll beat him next time!"

Dick could only pity Tyson's mother as he pulled himself out of the pool, pointedly ignoring Tyson jeering at him. With five minutes before the next race, Dick decided that it'd probably be a good idea to keep stretching. Alfred had fed him healthfully all week leading up to the finals, and Robin hadn't gotten banged around too much as of late, but one could never know for sure.

"His turns are sloppy, he loses time there, and butterfly's your best stroke." Wally suddenly materialized at Dick's side, causing the younger teen to laugh.

"Wally, don't worry. I've got this." Dick shooed the redhead away as the warning whistle sounded and he remounted his block. Two lengths of the pool could hardly even count as a warm up. He had this.

Another tweet of the whistle and Dick was once again in the water. The butterfly stroke was strenuous and taxing on the body, but Dick loved the challenge of dominating it. It also helped that Tyson was not as much of a threat in this stroke, but Dick still had eight other competitors to beat.

Smooth and steady, Dick rose and fell through the water like a bird in air as he reached the end of the pool. Coming out of his turn, Dick noted that he had both Tyson and a swimmer from Central level with him. Eyes turned back towards the goal as Dick stretched his body to its limits to gain a marginal lead.

Just as Dick's head submerged for the last time before he'd touch the wall a sharp blow to his right shoulder sent jolts of searing pain through his body. Turning his body, still under water, so that instead of his momentum making him crash head first into the concrete, Dick's back took the blow and caused him to momentarily become disoriented.

A sudden disturbance in the water before him signaled that someone had just jumped in and was now hauling Dick up so that his head was above water. Gasping at the oxygen he hadn't been aware of lacking, Dick reached up with his left arm to remove his goggles and stare into a worried emerald gaze.

"You jumped into the pool." Dick drily stated, taking in Wally's now waterlogged clothing and wondering how many cows the school was going to have over this one.

"It was either me or Bruce." Wally glanced up at Bruce, who Dick just noticed was crouching on the pool edge behind him. "Your shoulder's out." He decided to add, looking down at Dick's right arm resting stiffly at his side and the jutting shoulder joint.

"I noticed." Dick's voice was still dry as he was cursing Scarecrow to hell in his mind. His shoulders had never been quite the same after being dislocated and then strained as Robin struggled to get free.

"That bastard hit you from his lane, but somehow none of the judges were watching." Wally hadn't removed his hands from either side of Dick's neck even as he glowered in Tyson's direction.

A very enthusiastic Mr. Thorman was proclaiming to anyone who cared to listen and even those who didn't that "That's my son! Right there!" as Tyson waved to the crowd of cheering classmates. Apparently, he'd scraped first place.

"Forget him for now, we have to get Dick's shoulder back in and get him out of the pool." Bruce's voice was calm, although his eyes clearly revealed what he'd very much like to do to Tyson's pompous demeanor. "Wally, can you get leverage?"

An unsure frown furrowed Wally's brow, but he nodded in affirmation as he braced one hand on Dick's shoulder, a knee on the wall, and grasped Dick's hand in his free one. Bruce's large, warm hands held Dick's head steady as Dick leaned back to stare up at his adoptive father with a wry smile.

"Okay, here we go." Wally looked to be mentally preparing himself. "Sorry buddy," the second the apology left the redhead's lips a quick jerk and shove had Dick's shoulder popped back into place. A sharp cry at the sudden jab of pain was all that occurred and then it was over.

The poolside first aid looked mightily put out that they had not been needed as Wally and Dick clambered out of the pool and got wrapped up in towels. After judges and coaches all made sure that Dick was okay, they announced that the 200m backstroke would begin in ten minutes.

Sitting on the sidelines next to Wally with Bruce on his other side massaging his shoulder, Dick had a very bad sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. Backstroke was Tyson's best, and he had a first place and second place standing already. If he won this event, the state title would be his even if Dick somehow pulled out a win in the final event simply because he swam more. Tyson would lord that title over Dick's head for the rest of high school and make his life even more miserable.

"Cheer up, he hasn't won yet." Wally patted his knee, expression cheerful despite his wet clothes. "Chase is a beast at backstroke, Tyson won't stand a chance." He nodded towards one of the taller Central swimmers with broad shoulders.

Dick was only mildly assured as he gave a stiff nod, wincing at the phantom pain tracing over his nerves as Bruce tried to loosen up his shoulder.

"How bad is it?" Bruce, Dick could tell, was struggling to not slip into someone's-hurt-my-kid-must-kill-them Batman mode. It made him want to smile.

"It's been worse. I can handle this." Dick assured as the whistle sounded to start the next race.

Dick's eyes were glued to Tyson and Chase, side by side in their lanes, willing Chase to swim as fast as he could. If Chase didn't win this race Dick might as well drown himself in the pool now to save Tyson the effort later.

Surprisingly, Wally for once had not been exaggerating when he'd boasted Chase's swimming prowess. The teen's long frame was slicing smoothly through the water a good body's length ahead of everyone else. Wide-eyed and dumbfounded, Dick watched as Chase easily secured himself first place to thunderous cheers from the Central supporters, Wally included.

"Okay, Dick, time to win this." Bruce gave his shoulder one last squeeze before he was called to his block for the final race.

Dick was going to have a panic attack. There were too many people, too much pressure, and too much breathing on Tyson's part. If Tyson would just stop breathing that'd be great.

A firm nudge at his back got Dick up on his feet and moving as Wally yelled encouragements after him. As he mounted his block beside a smug looking Tyson, a thousand scenarios of all the ways his body could kill him ran through Dick's mind. Tyson needed to be beaten though, so Dick would just have to get over it and swim.

As the cool water rushed over his body for the third time, Dick knew that his right shoulder would be protesting the entire race but blocked it out. The first length of freestyle had Dick barely in first place as his shoulder began to sting. The second length of backstroke had both Chase and Tyson scooting on by as Dick's shoulder grumbled with every movement. By the third length of breaststroke Dick knew he had to cover ground as yet another swimmer passed him. Dick was now sort of wishing for Scarecrow's brand of torture, at least then his brain wouldn't wonder why the hell he was doing this to himself.

Coming into his last turn, Dick dived down and put all the explosive energy he could into his feet as he kicked against the wall for all that he was worth. All thoughts of pain and doubt disappeared as Dick felt himself soaring. This was his stroke, three swimmers in front of him be damned.

Ducking his head down and letting the world around him melt away, Dick had no clue or care which swimmer was where nor who the crowd was cheering for. This one was just for him, to prove that he was stronger than injuries and small minded idiots. Seemingly in a flash, hands landed on the wall with finality as Dick surfaced, out of breath and unsure of which place he'd finished in.

Without looking at the judges or the scoreboard, Dick's eyes and ears automatically sought out Bruce. Looking quietly proud beside a whooping Wally and a shell-shocked Mr. Thorman, Bruce made eye contact with the for once silenced man.

"That's my son."

The fourth time, as far as Dick can remember, mainly involved a lot of panicked yelling on Artemis' part. Dick didn't mind the girl, overall. She was loud and abrasive and was obviously crushing on his best friend, but he found that ignoring her was a good tolerating method. As it was though, she was currently his only useful teammate.

Standing still watching Artemis panic over being powerless in a trying situation, Robin wondered how hard it was to simply be human for her. Having been raised since he could walk to be fearless, despite being a vulnerable defenseless human, Robin had never seen himself in any way less than a superhero with powers.

With Batman as a mentor, it was hard to believe that there was anything beyond his realm of capabilities.

Artemis, however, appeared to have not had the empowering atmosphere that Robin had, and she was now practically quaking at the thought of getting out alive with just the two of them. If Robin hadn't been studiously meditating through his frustration at his teammate's obvious ineptitude, he'd probably have just left her.

As it stood, however, Robin liked to think that he'd matured a little when it came to being a part of a team. If he ever wanted to lead this team, he'd have to learn to deal with these situations, no matter how tempting they made going solo seem.

"Artemis…Artemis…Artemis!" Robin finally grabbed the archer by her shoulders and gave her a firm shake to shut her up. "Listen to me, we can do this. I know we can, but I need you to pull yourself together and trust both me and yourself." Wide, scared eyes stared into Robin's unreadable domino masked eyes. "Artemis, we can get through this. Do you trust us?" Robin knew that they were wasting very valuable time that they needed to save their teammates and themselves, but he also knew that he couldn't do this if Artemis couldn't cooperate.

"I-yes?" Her voice was weak and more of a question than an answer.

"Good enough, follow me and keep your bow ready." Robin grabbed a few birdarangs from his weapons pouch before taking off down the fluorescently lit hallway of the old mental institute.

Honestly, Robin could have easily done this mission by himself. It was a simple infiltration job that required nothing more than a copy of the institute's database to be considered successful. Robin had done jobs like this many times before, and it would have been much easier to get himself in and out undetected but Aqualad had insisted on the whole team going in. This is why Robin should have been leader.

Within minutes of entering the institute Superboy had, with all his grace and subtlety, triggered the alarm system. Whoever it was that the team was tracking had altered the alarm system, as the second that the sirens went off several of the steel doors that lined the corridor shot open as metal arms reached out.

Well-honed reflexes had Robin dodging in an instant, but his teammates had all gotten grabbed and were being dragged kicking and screaming into the rooms. Throwing out exploding discs, Robin continued to evade the grasping metal hands as he tried to free the others in time. He managed to free Artemis.

Privately, Robin wondered why he hadn't tried for someone a bit more useful.

The hands had eventually retracted, Artemis had her freak out, and now Robin was running down the corridor wrenching open door after door. The institute was a massive maze of corridors lined with doors and Robin had no clue where his teammates had been dragged off to.

Artemis was keeping pace right behind Robin and was doing her fair share of room checking for their missing teammates, seemingly a bit less panicked by their predicament. The fact that the institute was apparently no longer trying to abduct them made Robin a little wary even if it did calm Artemis down.

A sudden cry for help from a few doors down had Robin crashing into a dimly lit operating room to see Kid Flash strapped down to a medical table with a chain saw inches from his head. Wondering what kind of mental practices were used on the mental back then, Robin froze for a second as he stared in slight fascination at the whirring blade.

"Don't just stand there!" Kid Flash shouted, terrified eyes glaring at his best friend before snapping back to the saw, his body straining futilely against the straps holding him down.

Grabbing his cape from his shoulders, Robin leaped onto the table with exploding disc ready. Quickly wrapping his Kevlar reinforced cape around the saw and attaching the disc to the saw arm, Robin averted his eyes as the disc exploded and then used his grip on the cape to send the saw flying at the wall.

Metal squealing against metal filled the room for a long moment before the dead saw fell to the floor with a dull clunk. Heavy breathing ensued as Robin and Kid Flash stared at the long slice the saw had made in the wall before turning simultaneously to stare at each other.

Robin started it with his giggles, and before long the two friends were laughing hysterically in the aftermath of their adrenaline rushes. This was how Artemis came to find them, with Robin practically sitting on Kid Flash's chest as the two of them laughed amidst the destroyed room.

"Get a grip and let's keep moving, you two." Artemis rolled her eyes before moving on in her search. Boys.

Robin finally got off of the table and freed Kid Flash after affectionately bumping their foreheads together in relief. As the two of them caught up to Artemis the strained air started to settle upon them again, although with Kid Flash Artemis seemed a bit more relaxed. Robin supposed it was a relief, as she was no longer screaming at him.

Well, that is, until Superboy all of a sudden burst through a wall in a fit of rage with an unconscious Miss Martian over his shoulder. Robin now had an armful of screaming Artemis as she cussed out Superboy for being a brute. Kid Flash looked highly amused at the very unamused look on Robin's face as he kept telling himself that dropping screaming girls on their butts was not polite.

Yelling for both Artemis and Superboy to can it, Robin finally gained some gloriously stunned silence as he placed the archer back on her feet and spoke to his three conscious teammates. Informing Artemis and Superboy that under no uncertain terms were they to speak again until they got out of this mental hell, Robin then sent them to find their way out while he continued to look for Aqualad. Kid Flash was apparently not leaving him.

Robin and Kid Flash found Aqualad strapped down much like Kid Flash had been and being subjected to old style electrocution to the temples by a malevolent looking robot. Making quick work of the robot that was, thankfully, too preoccupied with its task to try and turn its electrodes on them, Robin and Kid Flash were soon hauling a weak Aqualad out of the building.

Once all the torture rooms were empty it seemed to trigger a robot onslaught. Robin and Kid Flash were forced to alternate between taking down robots and protecting Aqualad, which made their escape slow going. Robin was quickly running out of exploding discs and had just started to resort to pulling motherboards from mechanical bodies when the sound of whizzing arrows met his ears.

Turning around, Robin felt an odd surge of pride when he saw Artemis fearlessly entering the fray with a determined look on her face as Superboy grabbed Aqualad and carried him out some back way.

As Artemis and Kid Flash kept up a distraction, Robin leaped from robot to robot as he programmed them all to self destruct. A shrill beeping from Robin's wrist had him grabbing a startled Kid Flash and Artemis by the wrists and hauling their asses in the direction Superboy had disappeared in.

An earth shaking boom sent the whole half of the institute up in flames just as Robin got them out. Breathing hard with his hands still clasped to his teammates' wrists, Robin glanced at the destroyed building and groaned at the hell there'd be to pay. Why couldn't easy missions ever go right?

Sure enough, the moment that the team arrived back at Mount Justice they were greeted by the presence of their mentors. While everyone else was hugged and fussed over, Robin walked resignedly over to stand before a scowling Batman.

"Report." Batman's voice was stern, but Robin didn't flinch. He gave an overview of the mission's mishaps with practiced stoicism, to which Batman's scowl deepened.

"Your cape?"

"Saving Kid Flash."

"Your injuries?"

"Robots."

"Mission objective?"

Robin let a grin break through his blank mask as he retrieved a slim memory chip from his utility belt and held it up.

"Accomplished."

Batman eyed the chip for a moment before a tiny smile overpowered his scowl.

"Not bad."

From Batman, that was as good as a big hug and heartfelt congratulations. After the hellish night he'd had, that's exactly what Batman's words felt like. Ducking his head down to hide his smile, Robin could feel that familiar welling in his chest again.

Years later, after Robin had become Nightwing and Dick finished college, it was time for him to spread his wings and take on the world for himself. As Dick had grown older, conflicting views had strained his relationship with Bruce to the point that they couldn't hold a conversation without it ending in bitter argument. Knowing that it was only going to get worse if he stayed, Dick knew that it was time to move out.

He'd gotten a job offer with the Bludhaven Police Department, which had sparked yet another heated argument, and he'd gotten a lease on a fair sized apartment shortly after. Now, all that there was left to do was leave.

Standing at the front door of the manor with the last of his duffels at his feet, Dick stood facing Bruce with an awkward silence between them. Alfred had already said his good byes before proclaiming that the bathrooms needed cleaning and he'd walked off sniffling into his handkerchief. Which left Bruce standing in the entry hall with his arms crossed and Dick wishing that the ground would open up.

"Drive safely." Bruce finally broke the silence, causing a rare lapse in composure on Dick's part as he jumped.

"I will." Dick promised, feeling a lump forming in his throat. For as much as he'd been willing Bruce to speak, now he half wished that the silence was back.

"Call when you get there." Bruce turned, making like he was going to head off to his office, which took Dick a bit off guard.

"I…yeah." Dick decided that this was just Bruce's way of saying good bye, and maybe it was all for the best this way. Grabbing his bag in one hand, the boy who had first come to the manor scared and unsure left as a confident young man, closing the door quietly behind him.

The digital clock by Bruce's head read 2:37 when the ringing phone roused him from sleep. Grumbling some sort of greeting into the receiver, Bruce was met with a stretch of silence that almost had him hanging up.

"I made it." Dick's voice was quiet and obviously tired. "I unpacked, got settled in, and got the alarm system working. Thanks for that, by the way."

Unbeknownst to each other, both men were sitting up in bed cities apart as a sadly familiar silence fell over them. Fidgeting with his comforter, Dick wondered if maybe he should just hang up.

"Hey Bruce?" He would later blame the lack of sleep and stress of moving, but Dick couldn't stand the silence anymore.

"Yes, Dick?"

"I love you."