I'm on my way to donate blood and thought it sure would be nice to find some wonderful FB in my box when I get home. Then I realize I needed to post a part of the story to get that... so I am!

This part's rated PG because of a few, not nasty, but not nice words.

Notes and disclaimer in part one, however, for Freddie, because he was kind enough (and passionate enough) to point this out to me-Credit for Batman and his creation must also go to Mr. Bill Finger who helped Mr. Bob Kane out with certain aspects of Batman and yet, goes widely unnoticed and uncredited. Sorry, Mr. Finger!

Without further ado...

By: Susie

All the way home, Tim cursed under his breath for his lack of attention to the time. He KNEW he had to be back early, yet still lost track. He was hardly excited to see what chores his father would tack on to his already tedious list.

Robin carefully scaled the wall to his window and entered his darkened home. His plan was to change quickly, leap back outside, enter through the front door, and await the yelling. He had barely set his foot on the ground when a hand tighten over his wrist. Instincts immediately clicked and Robin twisted his hand out of the grasp and moved away from the attacker. He stood in a defensive stance; ready to attack or be attacked.

The lights suddenly flooded on and Tim saw his father standing by the switch. As soon as Jack saw who was in his son's room he let out a gasp of surprise.

"What are you doing here?"

Robin thanked Batman for his many lessons on controlling facial expressions because, if not for the hours spent on that subject, Tim would be looking like a deer in the headlights right about now.

"What are you doing here?" His father repeated, but the young man was still clueless on to how to answer. "Have you seen my son? Oh God, has something happened to him?"

Robin moved his arms to his side in a more relax stance. "No sir, I haven't seen Timothy."

Jack suddenly took a step closer to the crime fighter in his son's room. "How do you know his name?"

The only comprehensible words in the young man's head were 'Holy Crud! What have I done?' Before the vigilant could answer, he saw his father take two steps closer to himself.

"Who are you?"

The question made a little bead of sweat form on Robin's forehead. This was beginning to spiral out of control, but he couldn't just jump out the window and leave things so strange, but he sure couldn't stand here as his father's eyes bore into him.

So caught up in his thoughts, the young man didn't see his father's movement until it was too late. With a vicious swipe, Jack grabbed the corner of Robin's mask and pulled. The quick tearing of the gum used to hold it on echoed in the room, along with Jack's gasp of surprise.


The young boy felt all color drain from his face. ~Oh my God! This has to be a nightmare. Come on, Tim, wake up, Wake Up, WAKE UP!~

But, it wasn't some morose dream; it was reality. Tim slowly moved his eyes to his father's face and noticed his hands were shaking slightly.


"What the HELL is all this?!?" The young man cringed as his father's voice rose at least fifty decibels.

Tim held his hands palm out towards his father. "It's not what it seems like, Dad."

"Then what exactly is it?" He asked dead-panned.

"Well, you see, it's like this. There was a costume party at Ives's and I went as Robin."

For a moment Tim thought that, perhaps, his father bought the strange story, but then he found he was wrong. "Christ, do I looked like an idiot to you? I'll ask you again, what the hell is going on here?"

The young man took a deep breath; he was all out of ideas and lies. "It's what it is, Dad."

Jack Drake looked his son over from head to toe. This was... it was just impossible. His son, Timothy Drake, was NOT Robin. Hell, Robin wasn't even a real person; he was a myth created by the police. Yet, right in front of him, stood his son dressed as the crime fighter.

It was unreal.

"No." At first, Tim wasn't certain he heard his father correctly. "NO!" But, then he heard Jack's voice yell out the statement.

"Dad?" The young boy gently held out his hand towards his father who seemed to grown more hysterical by the minute.

"No! My son is NOT a crime fighter."

"Dad, I'm... I'm sorry. I never meant..."

Jack meet his son's eyes. "Never meant to what? Exactly what didn't you mean, Timothy? Never meant to make us worry all those nights AND days you were missing. Never meant to lie to us at every turn. Never meant to risk your life every night and perhaps be killed without us knowing."

The young Robin shook his head at his father's statements. "Please, just listen for a second."

Jack watched his son take a step closer to him and then did the one thing he had never done in his life.

He slapped his son.

The older man watched as Tim put his hand to his cheek that was, no doubt, smarting a bit.

"No. I don't want to hear any more lies. I don't even know you, because you are NOT the son that your mother and I raised. You..." he gestured towards the Robin suit, "...are a complete stranger to me."

With that, the young boy watched his father turn and leave his room. The door slammed violently behind him and then Tim was left in silence. A sudden feeling a dizziness hit the dark-haired boy and he felt his knees collapse. Luckily, the bed was right behind him and he fell on the soft surface-bouncing slightly.

A quiet, but persistent clicking echoed in his ears and Timothy, without a second thought, hit the communication button.



"Good. Listen Batman needs you to join him at 65th and Thomas for some sort of surveillance." Oracle's soft laugh echoed in his ears. "Aren't you glad to be back in town?"

Robin smiled in spite of himself, but then, felt the black cloud of his current situation hit him. "Um, I can't go out right now. Tell Batman I'm sorry and I'll explain it to everyone later. Robin out."

Before Oracle had any chance to respond or question, Tim turned off his small radio. The young boy could hear the muffled voice of Dana and his father and knew exactly what they were talking about.

"Oh God!" Tim put his head in his hands and closed his eyes. ~What in the world just happened?~ Unfortunately, the young boy was finally able to answer that question.

His father found out he was Robin.

And he was a dead man.

And that would be the storm...

Hmm, quiet a mess little Timmy's in. The idea of him just entering his house in costume isn't that odd because in one of the comics (I can't think of which) he actually fell asleep on his bed with the outfit on. So mistakes can happen.

Continue To Chapter Three

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