Disclaimer: All the characters are owned by DC Comics and Time/Warner; 
this is an original story that does not intend to infringe on their 
copyright. Feedback is welcome! 

Word count: 33,530 

Copyright 1999 

***

Sixteen Candles
by Syl Francis (efrancis@earthlink.net)

***

Chapter One: Two-Face

***

The young man expertly drove the sleek, red convertible Porsche, his 
sixteenth birthday gift. His dark-haired, wind blown, good looks were 
striking enough to draw second and third glances from passing female 
motorists. A carload of students from a local exclusive girls' school 
honked and waved good-naturedly. They collapsed into helpless giggles when 
he flashed them a dazzling smile. 

The car pulled up next to him. The girls' foolish stunt instantly 
worried Dick. They were on a two-lane road with several dangerously blind 
curves. At any moment, another vehicle could suddenly appear in front of 
them. 

"Are you *crazy*?" Dick yelled. "You trying to get yourselves killed?" 
He began slowing down, urging them to pull ahead of him. However, the 
carload of fun- loving, girls blithely ignored the danger and his warning. 

"Dick! When are you going to phone me?" one girl called waving both 
arms over her head. She blew him several kisses. Dick recognized her as 
the kid sister of one of his classmates. 

"Pull up!" Dick answered. Emphatically pointing his finger in front of 
his car. 

"I'm free Saturday night!" another yelled, shoving the first one down. 

"I'm free *any* night!" still another added, laughing. She was standing 
up on the back seat, precariously managing to balance herself somehow. 

The first girl kept blowing kisses, while another whistled 
appreciatively. The one standing up cupped her hands and began reciting 
her phone number. 

"Call me!" she cried. As they drove off, the girls' fun-filled laughter 
trailed behind them. 

Dick shook his head bemusedly. Girls, for the most part, were still 
somewhat of a mystery to him. At sixteen, he had yet to go out on a "real" 
date. Of course, part of this morning's plan was to hopefully rectify that 
sorry state of affairs, he thought determinedly. 

Dick smiled to himself, easily visualizing Babs' beautiful, long red 
hair. A small squirrel abruptly crossed his path, interrupting his 
daydream. Expertly cutting the Porsche right then left, Dick breathed a 
sigh of relief when he spotted the frightened squirrel in his rearview 
mirror dashing back into the treeline. 

He shook his head. 

"Concentrate on your driving, Grayson," he muttered. "I can see the 
headlines now: Rich Kid Drives Porsche into Gotham Woods!" 

Focusing on his driving, Dick took the two-lane, tree-lined drive from 
Wayne Manor, his stately home in the country, at a speed the Gotham County 
Sheriff's Department would frown upon. Dick enjoyed the feel of power at 
his hands. The Porsche wasn't the Batmobile, but Dick had only been 
driving officially for a week. Therefore, the experience was still new 
enough to excite him, and he took every opportunity to get behind the 
wheel. 

Dick remembered the bright, clear morning almost a week ago when Bruce 
presented him with his birthday gift, a sleek, gleaming, red convertible 
Porsche. A dream gift by any measure of the word... 

*** 

"But, Bruce! It's too much! Really!" Dick's words belied the ecstatic 
expression on his face. A Porsche! It was much more than Dick would have 
ever asked for. But when your "father" was billionaire Bruce Wayne, you 
sometimes came to expect such outrageously generous gifts. 

"You're only sixteen once in your life, Dick," Bruce replied, pleased 
with Dick's reaction. "You're a good kid. You keep your grades up, you 
excel at everything I ask of you." Bruce looked away, momentarily 
embarrassed. "I'm proud of you. This car is little enough, I think." Bruce 
paused, then added with a slight grin, "And guess who gets to drive the 
Batmobile tonight?" 

*** 

Dick smiled at the memory. A momentary pained expression flitted across 
his eyes. Such happy, relaxed moments with Bruce were becoming poignantly 
rare. Dick remembered a time when he could run to Bruce and expect at 
least a warm hand on his shoulder and a minute's time with his guardian. 
Now, Bruce was growing more and more distant, with Batman increasingly 
consuming his life. 

Sadly, the only conversations Dick and Bruce shared lately seemed to be 
in the Batcave, and only while in their Batman and Robin personas. Why did 
things have to change, Dick wondered for the umpteenth time? One day 
everything was normal. The next day, everything was...different. 

Everything. 

Almost like turning a page in his life. New chapter...indent five 
spaces...begin new paragraph. Only problem: No one bothered to inform Dick 
of this new phase in his relationship with Bruce. 

Dick ran his hand absentmindedly along the car's dashboard, 
unconsciously enjoying the feel of sun-warmed leather. The interior was 
all leather, of course, with all the extras. Dick grinned sadly and shook 
his head. 

"It sure beats the desktop computer Wally got for *his* sixteenth 
birthday," Dick surmised aloud. As he drove along the quiet country road, 
Dick's mind went back almost a year, to the previous summer. He, Bruce, 
and Alfred were set to go to Cancun on a real vacation. The first one 
Bruce had taken in almost ten years... 

*** 

"Master Dick," Alfred said punctiliously, "have you finished your 
packing?" 

"Yeah, Alfie," Dick said, unconcernedly waving his hand in the general 
direction of his bags. He was lying on top of his bedcovers, listening to 
something that Alfred assumed was music. Alfred rolled his eyes upward, 
and then proceeded to unpack and repack Dick's clothing. 

Dick grinned and watched, secretly pleased by Alfred's thoroughly 
piqued expression. Dick didn't bother to do a decent job with his packing 
because he knew that no matter how well he did it, Alfred would 
nevertheless repack it. Dick figured that even if Alfred groused all the 
while, he actually enjoyed doing it. So, why deny Alfred his fun? 

That's when they saw it: the Bat-Signal! 

By the time Dick made it downstairs to the Batcave, Batman was already 
dressed and working behind the computer terminals. 

"Two-Face," Batman explained succinctly. Dick blinked, then nodded in 
understanding, hurrying to the uniform vault. Dick changed quickly and 
emerging, rushed over to where Batman was running a computer search. 

"He's escaped from Arkham," Batman continued as soon as Robin joined 
him. "I should've seen it coming, chum," he said quietly. "Today is the 
second anniversary of the second time I captured him and returned him to 
Arkham. On that occasion--" 

"--On that occasion," Robin interrupted, "he kidnapped his ex-fiancee, 
Grace Timm, who'd broken off their two-year engagement prior to his second 
incarceration." 

Batman's mouth quirked up in a half-smile. "You've been doing your 
homework, chum." Batman became suddenly serious. "Shortly after I returned 
him to Arkham, Harvey warned that since he'd lost the most important thing 
in his life, then the next time he got out, he'd take the most important 
thing in mine." Batman stood and he and Robin started for the Batmobile. 
"Harvey blamed me for losing Grace. I'm sure he hasn't changed his mind." 

"Two-Face out for vengeance?" Robin mused. "That should make him twice 
as dangerous!" He grinned at his senior partner over the Batmobile's 
canopy. "*And* twice the fun." 

Batman quirked a sardonic eyebrow at Robin's bravado and quickly got 
into the driver's side. 

Batman and Robin answered the Bat-Signal that night. Since it was 
summer vacation, Robin didn't have the usual ten p.m. curfew... 

*** 

As Dick drove in the bright March morning, he recalled the events of 
that summer night. Everything was proceeding normally, until-- 

Dick held his hand to his head. The painful memory still elicited a 
migraine whenever he forced himself to look back on it. Perhaps, he should 
pull over momentarily, he thought, and as quickly discarded the idea... 

*** 

Everything was proceeding normally. Batman and Robin clung to the 
ceiling rafters located in the waterfront warehouse. Batman's computer 
search predicted this place as Two-Face's most likely hideaway. 

Robin heard voices below him. He signaled Batman, who indicated he'd 
already heard them as well. Robin quickly took out a Batline, secured it, 
and began lowering himself into the shadows below. A sudden explosion rang 
out. Robin's line broke! 

The world went black. 

As he regained consciousness, Robin became aware of a blinding white 
light directed into his eyes. He tried turning his head, but something 
held him in place. He tried moving his arms and legs, but those too were 
immobilized. 

"Where?" Robin whispered. 

"Welcome to Hell, Boy Wonder!" That voice! Two-Face. The villain's 
maniacal laughter seemed to echo eerily from all around. Robin couldn't 
focus on a location because of the white light burning into his corneas. 

"Two-Face! What's the idea? What's going on?" Robin demanded, his voice 
a dry croak. He had to play for time until Batman could-- 

That's when he felt the first punch. It was a closed-fist, 
metal-reinforced, hammer blow to the abdomen. Before Robin could recover, 
he was struck with a heavy roundhouse to the chin. He instantly tasted 
blood and felt a tooth loosen. This was quickly followed by a 
white-searing blow to the groin. 

Robin again felt his tenuous hold on reality collapsing. 

"You don't ask the questions!" Two-Face raged. "I'm the prosecutor, 
remember? I ask the questions! I ASK THE QUESTIONS!!!" 

"Why--?" Robin whispered, barely enunciating the word. As the nonstop 
beating started again, Robin couldn't complete his question, "Why are you 
doing this?" 

"I ASK THE QUESTIONS!!!" Two-Face repeated. "Why are you so important 
to him? WHO ARE YOU?" Each question was accompanied by a blow to another 
part of Robin's poor abused body. "Where did you come from? How did he 
find you?" 

Two-Face's voice rose in increasing hysteria. "You even LOOK LIKE HIM! 
Is that IT? Are you his SON? HIS AND GRACE'S? That's it, isn't it? Even 
when he was pretending to be my friend, he was going behind my back with 
Grace!" 

"No," Robin tried to deny the unfounded accusation, but he couldn't 
articulate a sound. After that, everything just seemed to blur into a long 
continuous crimson haze. The incessant pounding became a dull background 
roar. An eternity later, Robin blessedly lost consciousness... 

Pain. Sharp, white-hot, searing agony in the rib area. His lower 
abdomen. Face. Extremities. He hurt everywhere. He squeezed his eyes 
against wakefulness. He wanted to crawl under something and just curl up 
and let sleep reclaim him. 

His hearing came back all at once. He was surrounded by a sea of loud 
voices. Angry voices. Shouts. 

GUILTY AS CHARGED!! 

GUILTY!! 

Cold, evil laughter. 

Where was he? 

When full awareness finally returned, Robin's blood froze in place. He 
was standing, his wrists and ankles again immobilized, in total darkness. 
He felt like he was tied to a post, but couldn't be certain because of the 
impenetrable gloom. It seemed that the room in which he was being held 
prisoner was entirely devoid of light. If there were such a thing possible 
as absolute blackness, Robin believed that is where he was. 

"Am I dead?" he whispered. 

"No, Boy Wonder, not dead...At least, not yet!" A sudden spotlight 
immediately in front of Robin blinded him, revealing Two Face/Harvey Dent 
in judge's robes, sitting behind a high, stately desk. "The verdict by our 
two esteemed juries..." Two Face waved an arm, and footlights suddenly 
revealed two jury boxes peopled by several of Dent's henchmen. "...has 
been passed...*HE* is guilty of violating that most sacred of trusts among 
friends! He betrayed me with my own fiancee, and therefore, *you...the 
*sole issue* of that betrayal must *die*!!!" 

With that announcement, another spotlight suddenly sprang up, revealing 
an old- fashioned gallows, complete with hangman's noose. Robin felt a 
cold hand clutch his insides when he realized this chamber of horrors was 
awaiting him. Two black hooded executioners lumbered towards Robin in 
slow, measured steps. 

"By the power vested in me, I now condemn you to be hanged until you 
are dead, Dead, DEAD!!" Dent screamed out the verdict in increasing fury. 
His anger escalating with each pronouncement. 

Robin felt himself grow lightheaded. The beatings he'd received earlier 
had probably caused internal injuries and possible bleeding. Also, because 
his extremities had been tied for some time, Robin also lost all 
circulation in his arms and legs. When Two-Face's goons untied him, Robin 
rallied to fight them off, but couldn't make his arms and legs do what he 
wanted them to. Instead, his leg muscles abandoned him by folding under 
him. 

One of the executioners picked up Robin, unceremoniously throwing him 
over his shoulder. Robin weakly tried to fight him off, but his strength 
was quickly failing, as was his grasp on reality. Robin felt the world 
crazily spinning around him, a weird kaleidoscope of light, colors, and 
darkness... 

Robin must have lost consciousness for a few minutes, because the next 
thing he knew, he was standing, a noose around his neck. 

"Does the condemned have anything to say before we carry out the 
sentence?" Dent asked solicitously. Through the roaring in his ears, Robin 
fought to maintain his hold on reality, and blinking furiously, tried to 
focus against the shimmering, crazy merry-go-round that had become his 
world. 

"If I'm going to die," Robin croaked in a dry whisper, bravely facing 
his cold- blooded murderers, "then I won't go with a lie...*He* never 
betrayed you with Grace...He was your friend and still is. Grace left you 
because of who and what you'd become...and as much as love I him...He 
isn't my father, and Grace isn't my mother..." That was all Robin could 
say, before he felt the darkness begin to encroach once more. 

"LIES!! ALL LIES!! You go to your death with *two* lies on your lips! 
SO BE IT!!" Two-Face flipped his two-headed coin. The weak light in the 
warehouse briefly flashed on the coin's every other turn. Robin's blurring 
vision caught the strobe-like effect that first marked the coin's ascent, 
then its slow return arc. The coin fell into Two-Face's open palm. The 
disfigured former District Attorney gazed on the coin with evil 
satisfaction. 

"Executioners...carry out your sworn duty!" 

Robin heard a whirring sound, followed by several screams of outrage. 
He felt himself falling...falling endlessly into a black abyss. Then 
blessed darkness... 

*** 

The next clear memory Dick had was waking up in his own bed, the 
morning sun streaming in through the open bedroom windows. 

"Master Dick, don't try to move, young sir," Alfred's soothing voice 
spoke from somewhere in his dreams. "You're home, and you're safe. 
Everything is going to be all right. Sleep now. Sleep." 

*** 

Dick pulled the Porsche into the Gotham Library's vast sun-drenched 
parking lot. Quickly parking the car, Dick sat back, the memories of a 
year ago almost overwhelming him. He blinked his eyes rapidly in the 
bright sunlight, and quickly brought his right hand up to his eyes, 
squeezing for several moments until Dick knew he wouldn't lose control 
right there in a public parking lot. 

Alfred was sorely mistaken. Everything did not turn out all right. Soon 
afterwards, Dick began to notice subtle differences in Bruce's attitude 
towards him. He seemed colder somehow, distant. 

At first, Dick thought his imagination was working overtime, but soon 
realized that their relationship had indeed changed. In his heart, Dick 
came to believe that Bruce felt ashamed of him. Dick foolishly fell into a 
trap that a child could have avoided, and as a result he'd gotten himself 
badly beaten and almost killed. 

Dick believed that Bruce probably couldn't stand to be in the same room 
with him anymore, which is why he'd avoided almost all contact with Dick 
for the past year. After all the training, time, and effort that Bruce 
invested in him, Dick let him down. 

"I guess I'm a real disappointment to him," Dick said, leaning back 
tiredly on the headrest. "A total loser." This time he felt the stinging 
tears dangerously close to spilling. "I deserve his contempt!" 

In his harsh assessment of his personal failings, Dick omitted the fact 
that the trap with which Two-Face caught Robin, also caught Batman... 

*** 

"Bruce...?" Dick whispered hoarsely. 
"I'm here, chum." Dick felt a warm reassuring pressure on his shoulder. 
Slowly, Dick's eyelids obeyed his half-hearted command to open. He focused 
on the blurry images immediately in front of him. These soon coalesced 
into the worried countenance of Bruce Wayne. 

Dick took a moment to get his bearings. He was hooked up to several 
tubes and machines. He heard the steady beep of a heart monitor and 
several noises he didn't recognize. He felt physically separated from his 
body, undoubtedly a side effect of the drugs he was being pumped with. 

"What--?" Dick could barely force the sound around his dry throat. 

"Don't try to talk, chum," Bruce's quiet voice ordered. He then began 
to explain what happened. "After the explosion, I woke up in a small cell. 
It had no windows, no doors, no seams of any kind that I could find. I 
didn't have my utility belt, of course, but..." Bruce's eyes twinkled 
momentarily, "...I had a few other tools squirreled away on my costume." 

Dick gave an answering lop-sided smile. 

"By my best estimates, I must've been unconscious for about two hours. 
I ran a blood-works on myself after we returned to the Cave, and not 
surprisingly found that I'd been drugged." Bruce looked away momentarily. 
Dick thought he saw a fleeting look of guilt-laden pain in Bruce's eyes, 
but it was gone so quickly, Dick decided that he must have imagined it. 
Bruce swallowed, then turned back to Dick. 

"I ran my mini-snoop device along the walls, and I soon discovered a 
weak spot. I tossed a coupla of nitro-pellets, and--Bang!--I was out! I 
found myself back in the warehouse. It was empty...or so I thought at 
first. I began looking around, and found my utility belt. I found yours a 
few feet away. It was stretched out to its full length...almost as if 
pointing. I walked in the direction that the belt seemed to be indicating, 
and found...you." 

Bruce paused. This time his pain was almost palpable. 

"Harvey really intended to carry out the sentence. If I hadn't shown up 
at that moment..." Bruce's voice dropped. His face showed his inner 
struggle to continue. To Dick's shock, a single tear began to trail down 
the corner of his guardian's eye. The man whose inner strength was the one 
constant in Dick's life was crying. 

Dick's raised his bandaged arm and awkwardly reached out for Bruce's 
face. Feeling his own tears well up, Dick gently traced the lone tear with 
his forefinger. Bruce reached up and held tightly onto Dick's hand. 

"I'm sorry I wasn't there for you, son...When I saw that executioner 
throw the handle, I thought you were--" Bruce choked on the words. "--I 
thought I'd lost you." Bruce closed his eyes at the horrific image of 
Dick's bloodied, battered, and broken form barely able to stand on the 
gallows' malignant platform, a noose tied around his neck. 

Batman had never acquired, prepared, and thrown a Batarang as quickly 
as he did that night. It's razor-sharp edge sliced the rope at the same 
instant that Two- Face's hooded executioners threw the switch. As the rope 
tightened around Robin's neck, the Batarang found its mark, and instead of 
the Boy Wonder's life being choked out of him, he fell to safety. 

"After I cut you loose, I managed to bring down the majority of 
Two-Face's henchmen. Unfortunately, Harvey had already escaped somehow. He 
left a note, 'Two birds for the price of one'." Bruce paused, his eyes 
chagrinned. "I found a second gallows, by the way. Intended for me." 
Bruce's eyes looked sadly upon Dick's. 

"Harvey might not have succeeded in killing either of us, but maybe 
this was better. By hurting you, he knew that he had hurt me." Bruce 
looked intensely into Dick's eyes. "I caught him two days later. Or 
rather, he let me catch him. He even arranged it. More than anything, 
Harvey wanted to gloat how he'd managed to hurt the two people who'd hurt 
him the most, with the one thing we both shared in common." Bruce shook 
his head in bewilderment. 

"Dick, I didn't know about Harvey's delusion. I tried to explain to him 
that you weren't Grace's son, but he wouldn't believe me. He's completely 
convinced that Grace and I betrayed him. That we had an affair, and that 
*you* were the result." 

Dick nodded. "I know," he whispered. "Two-Face told me right before he 
started to...you know." Dick looked away. He should've found a way to 
escape. Instead, he'd allowed himself to be the victim--again! Robin, the 
Boy Hostage, he thought disgustedly. I should've escaped, and helped 
Batman. But no, I get carried home practically in a body bag. "Bruce, I'm 
sorry...I should've gotten away." 

"Don't talk, Dick," Bruce said. "Nothing that happened was your fault. 
We were both caught off-guard, remember. It was a two-for-one trap, and we 
both fell for it. If anyone's at fault, it would be me. Now I don't want 
you to worry about this...I just want you to concentrate on getting 
better. Do you hear?" 

Dick nodded, but despite his guardian's words of reassurance, as Dick 
slipped off into sleep, he felt that Bruce was disappointed in him... **** 

***

Chapter Two: Babs

***

Recalling the incidents of the previous year, and Bruce's changed 
attitude towards him, Dick knew that he'd give the convertible back in a 
heartbeat, if that would restore his old relationship with his guardian. 
What Dick had admitted to Dent was only half-true. He might not be Bruce 
Wayne's son, but more than anything in the world, sometimes if only in the 
privacy of his own dreams, Dick wished he were. 

Coming back to the present, Dick remembered his location and purpose 
for being there. He nervously checked his appearance in the rear view 
mirror and sighed. The problem with convertibles is that a guy's hair 
never stayed put. 

"I look a mess," Dick muttered taking out a small comb. He ran it 
quickly through his hair, but his dark locks refused to return to their 
normal position. "Terrific! Enter Bozo the Clown!" Dick said disgustedly. 

Glancing over at the main entrance to the public library, Dick decided 
that it was now or never. The young man took a deep breath, opened the 
driver's side door and got out. Dick took a moment to drink in the 
beautiful spring day. He heard a family of baby robins chirping from a 
tree nearby and smiled. 

Spring was Dick's time of the year. He was born on the first day of 
Spring, March 21st. His Mom used to call him her "little Robin" because of 
that. When he became Batman's partner he selected the name to honor her. 
Spring reminded him of his Mom and always brought his roots home to him. 

Feeling a zest in his step, Dick bounded up the stairs leading to the 
library's main entrance. He wondered if she'd be there. She always visited 
the library on her spring break and helped out. Dick felt his pulse 
quickening. This was the first year since he'd known her that he was old 
enough to drive. And he had a real muscle car for showing off his 
abilities, too. 

Roy called Dick's convertible a real "chick magnet." Dick didn't 
usually give much weight to anything Roy said, but today he wanted to 
believe! 

Dick stood immediately inside the entrance to allow his eyes to become 
adjusted to the dim light. Within minutes he spotted her, sitting alone at 
one of the side cubicles, taking notes intently. There was a small, 
green-shaded reader's lamp immediately above her casting a glowing light 
on her red hair. Dick stood mesmerized, unaware that he was gaping. 

"Excuse me!" an annoyed voice said behind him. "Young man, you're 
blocking the doorway!" Dick quickly stepped aside, embarrassed. Recovering 
his composure, Dick gallantly held the door open for an extremely 
miffed-looking elderly woman. She gave Dick an imperious stare and walked 
past him, muttering, "Some people!" under her breath. 

Feeling sheepish, Dick watched the woman go. Releasing a long breath he 
didn't know he'd been holding, Dick finally began to make his way over to 
the object of his dreams, Barbara Gordon. 

"Babs! Hi," Dick greeted softly. "You look great," he added. 

Barbara looked up blinking. It took her a moment to focus on the 
speaker. She'd been totally immersed in her Criminology research. Abruptly 
her studious look broke into a wide, beautiful smile. 

"Dick!" Barbara cried, jumping up and giving him a hug. Standing back, 
she gave Dick a once over, and added impishly, "Look at you! Why you look 
almost all grown up, Munchkin!" 

Dick grimaced. "Aw, come on, Babs," he hissed. "I'm sixteen! Gimme a 
break, willya?" 

"Ooh...sixteen, huh? I bet you're fighting off all the girls now." 
Barbara sat down. "Here, join me for a sec." As Dick pulled up a chair, 
Barbara pulled something out of her purse. She held out the small 
beribboned package to Dick. "Happy birthday, squirt," she whispered 
smiling. 

Dick took the brightly wrapped miniature gift and returned Barbara's 
smile. "You remembered!" he said softly, sounding pleased. 

"Well, duh!" Barbara returned. "First day of spring. Not a birthday 
that's easy to forget. Besides..." she added, her eyes softening, 
"...you're still my best guy, right?" 

Dick looked down in hurry, feeling his cheeks burning. He wanted to 
shout, "Right! You bet! Let's get married! Or go steady! Or go out on a 
real date!" (And not *Barbara* taking *him* out for an ice cream or a 
movie as if he were still a little kid, for crying out loud!) 

Instead, Dick's tongue treacherously refused to formulate any coherent 
words. 

"Well? Open it!" Barbara urged. Dick nodded quickly and fumbled with 
the wrappings. Finally, opening the tiny box, he found a gold key chain 
inside with his initials: RJG, Richard John Grayson. 

"I called Alfred and asked him if there was anything special you might 
need for this momentous birthday," Barbara explained, smiling. She then 
emulated the dignified English gentleman. "'Miss Barbara, I'm not at 
liberty to be more specific, but I believe a key chain might be in order.' 
I figured Bruce must've bought you a car, or something?" She made the last 
a question. At Dick's eager nod confirming her speculations, Barbara's 
smile broadened. She felt happy for Dick. 

"Thanks, Babs," Dick said, taking his car keys out of his pocket. He 
immediately began transferring the keys to the new key chain. "I really 
appreciate it! It was very thoughtful of you." 

Barbara watched the younger man as he concentrated on the task at hand. 
"So, tell me how've you been, squirt? You didn't write me as often this 
year. And here your handwriting is finally legible enough to be read 
without a handwriting analysis. How're things at home?" 

Barbara asked this last quietly. The few letters she'd received from 
Dick shared one glaring omission in common...no mention of Bruce Wayne! 
This was highly unusual since Dick's life revolved almost entirely around 
his guardian. The previous years' letters mentioned Bruce in almost every 
other sentence; therefore, Dick's letters portended of serious problems at 
home. 

Yet, Dick seemed happy enough, but Barbara couldn't be sure. Dick 
shrugged, not looking her in the eyes. "Just the usual." Then, he grinned 
suddenly, his eyes lighting with excitement. "But you'll never guess! I 
got to drive the you-know-what these past few nights! Bruce actually let 
me. Can you b'lieve that?" 

"Hey, I *am* impressed. Talk about your ultimate 'chick magnet'," 
Barbara whispered. She smiled inside, feeling relieved. Dick sounded like 
everything was all right at home. "Tell me, what's it *feel* like...to be 
behind the wheel of the 'you-know-what'?" 

Dick grinned. "Sorry, Babs, but that's an experience that can't be 
described, only lived. 'Course, it's too bad you're like, semi-retired or 
something, while you're in college, 'cause otherwise, maybe, I could get 
the Big Guy to let me cruise you around Gotham City." 

Barbara gasped. "Really? Oh, Dick, could you?" Barbara hadn't been in 
the Batmobile before. She rode her own Batgirl-cycle and had never been 
given the opportunity to either drive or ride in the supercharged power 
car. 

Dick immediately began backing down. "Uh, gee, Babs, I don't know. You 
know how protective Bruce is about his *car*!" Dick dropped his voice. "I 
mean, he might be letting me drive, but he's driving me nuts. He's like 
the world's worst backseat driver!" 

"You mean side-seat driver." 

"Huh?" 

"Side-seat driver," Barbara repeated succinctly. At Dick's blank look, 
she explained, "The Batmobile doesn't have a backseat, right?" 

Dick rolled his eyes. 

"So...? What do you say, kid? Take a girl for a ride?" 

"First, you gotta make me a couple of promises," Dick said. 

"Name it. As long as it isn't illegal or involves me doing something 
that could inspire Dad to take a shotgun to your head for." 

Dick blinked at Barbara, his dark eyes mirroring his shock at the 
innuendo. Barbara smiled sweetly. 

"And don't give me those big, blue innocent eyes, either," Barbara said 
in low mocking tones. "You've been ogling my legs since we sat down, Boy 
Wonder, and don't try to deny it." 

Dick flushed furiously. He hadn't known he'd been staring. "I-I...I'm 
s-s- sorry, B-B-Babs," Dick stuttered, stricken, and looked away. "I-I 
didn't m-m- mean, t-t-to st-stare." Unable to face her again, Dick jumped 
up quickly and left the library. 

As he hurried down the stairs back to the parking lot, Dick felt a hand 
at his elbow. Unthinking, Dick grabbed the intruder's wrist and was about 
to throw him, when he heard Barbara's voice break through his confusion. 

"Whoa, Boy Wonder!" she hissed. "It's me...the girl with the big fat 
mouth!" 

Dick let go promptly, but refused to look at her. Barbara held on to 
his elbow and applied a little pressure. 

"Hold on, kid," she said quietly. "We need to talk." 

Arriving at his car, Dick finally turned on her, his burning eyes 
showing his humiliation. 

"Will you stop calling me that? I'm not a kid, anymore, Babs! I'm 
sixteen!" He dropped his voice. "I've been the leader of the Titans since 
I was thirteen! Batman is finally letting me work solo on occasion. He's 
even going overseas this weekend, and he's leaving me in charge of 
Gotham!" Dick looked at Barbara with accusing eyes. 

"I just wish you'd stop calling me 'kid' or 'squirt' or..." He grimaced 
with distaste. "...'Munchkin'! That's what I was going to make you 
promise, if you wanted a ride in the...you-know-what." 

Barbara stood back a little, stunned. She studied the young man whom 
she'd loved like a little brother for longer than she remembered with new 
eyes. When had Dick suddenly grown up, Barbara wondered? 

"Dick," she said quietly, placing her hand on his forearm. "I'm sorry. 
I didn't realize. You've grown up while I was away, and I'm afraid that 
it's gonna take me a while to get used to it." Barbara smiled, her eyes 
suddenly bright with unshed tears. 

"You don't know how hard this is for me, Dick. I mean, I've loved 
little Dicky like a baby brother. I got to read him to sleep when he was 
only nine, helped him with his math homework, and even let him teach me 
one or two aerialist tricks. But now?" Barbara looked at Dick a little 
sadly. 

"Now I see a young man who's as handsome as he's tall; who's as kind as 
he is brave; who's as sweet as only being sixteen can make someone." 

"Aw, cut it out, Babs!" Dick protested in exasperation. "Jeez, willya 
cut me some slack? Sweet sixteen is for girls! *Donna* is sweet 
sixteen--near as we can figure! I mean no one really knows how old she 
actually is...But guys aren't sweet sixteen. I mean, look at this muscle 
car, Bruce got me for my birthday. You don't think he picked it out so 
girls would say, 'Oh, my! Look at Dick! Isn't he sweet?'" Dick shook his 
head in sharp denial, then continued. 

"I think not, Ms. Gordon! This is a-a 'chick magnet'! And-and-and I-I 
was...I was gonna, uh, pick up, uh, girls, and I was, uh--" Dick stopped 
in the middle of his speech because Barbara was standing next to him, 
tears of mirth helplessly streaming down her face. She was covering her 
mouth with both hands in a desperate attempt to smother her laughter. 

"What's so funny?" Dick asked, hurt. 

Barbara shook her head. "Nothing, Dick," she gasped. "Nothing at all." 
Dick stood there looking so distressed, that Barbara finally took pity on 
him. "Oh, Dick, I'm sorry," Barbara said, laughing. "It's just that--Dick, 
I can't see you cruising the streets and picking up girls. Cruising the 
streets and beating up on the bad guys, yes! But picking up girls in your 
Bat-Love Machine?" 

Barbara shook her head. "Not you. And don't think for a minute that 
that's a bad thing, either. Dick, you're the kind of guy who's never going 
to be involved with anyone casually. That isn't you. You're much too 
serious." She ran her fingers affectionately through his hair. 

"Why do you say that?" Dick asked darkly, stubbornly looking away. He 
was leaning against the Porsche, his arms and legs crossed. Dick's body 
language warned all to keep a safe distance. Barbara smiled. She'd seen 
this pose before. 

"I don't know. Maybe it was losing your parents when you were so young. 
But you tend to take each of your relationships extremely 
seriously--Bruce, Alfred, the Titans...me. We're all important to you and 
you'd go to extremes to keep us in your life." Barbara paused. "Bruce is 
much the some way...even more so. Maybe, that's who you get it from. I 
mean, since your parents' deaths, your life has pretty much been 
identified by your relationship with Bruce." 

At Babs' mention of his relationship with his guardian, Dick gave her 
such a startled look, tinged with such profound sadness, that Barbara 
almost didn't continue. Catching her concerned look, Dick quickly looked 
away. He didn't want to talk about Bruce. His shame over his personal 
failure was still too raw, the wounds still too painful. 

Keeping a close eye on Dick, Barbara continued talking about his 
possible future relations with women. 

"I think that love is going to hit you hard when it finally finds you. 
I'm not saying that you'll marry the first girl you fall in love with, but 
you might. I don't see you as someone who will ever indulge in casual 
relationships with women. But if you do, I think you'll realize you've 
made a mistake." 

Dick couldn't look Barbara in the eyes. After all, he knew how he felt 
about her, and it wasn't like a sister. That's how Dick felt about Donna. 
And Babs doesn't feel like Donna, he thought. Dick stared down at his 
shoes and shrugged his shoulders. 

"So, would you like to take a ride in my 'Chick Magnet'?" he asked, 
jerking his head towards his birthday present. 

Barbara laughed lightly. "I'd love to. But only on one condition! *You* 
disappear if we run into any good-looking guys! I wouldn't want any cool 
guy to think I'm so hard up for a date that I'd go out with my little 
brother!" 

"Babs, I'm an only child...remember?" Dick protested. He didn't want to 
be forced to think of Barbara as a sister. More importantly, Dick didn't 
want *Barbara* to think of him as a brother. 

"So am I, Munchkin," Barbara said seriously. "But if it's okay with 
you, as long as we have each other, I have a little brother, and you have 
a big sister." 

Dick stared at Barbara and wondered if all women could be so blind...as 
a bat? Couldn't she see how he felt? Even Bruce warned Dick to cool down 
what Bruce called Dick's "hots for the ex-babysitter!" 

Dick looked away, studying a fluffy cloud floating across the sky. 
Finally, he nodded in reluctant agreement. "Okay, Babs...but I'm warning 
you. If we run into any cool-looking chicks, then *you* take a hike. I 
mean, I wouldn't them to think that I'm driving my *older* sister around 
town or something." 

"*Older* sister?" 

"Well, come on, Babs, you're at *least* six years older--!" 

"Five and a half years older--and don't make me out to be older than I 
am, Short Pants--!" 

"*Short Pants*!? Hey! Who's got the car here, Four Eyes? You wanna 
walk?" As he teased her, Dick opened the passenger side door for Barbara. 
Laughing, but feigning outrage, she slid into the passenger seat. 

"Four Eyes!? You'd best watch it, squirt! My Dad wears a badge." 
Barbara glared at Dick as he started the ignition. 

"Oh, yeah? My Dad wears a cape and a cowl!" 

"Oh, yeah? My Dad carries a gun!" 

"Oh, yeah? My Dad carries a Batarang!" 

"Oh, yeah? My Dad...!" 

*** 

"So, are you ever going to tell me what's bothering you?" Barbara asked 
casually, looking over the spoonful of vanilla-chocolate swirl ice cream 
that she was about to enclose with her lips. She unselfconsciously ran her 
tongue along the spoon before swallowing the cold and creamy contents. 

Dick watched her actions as if hypnotized, then, realizing she was 
talking to him, looked up in surprise, almost dropping a spoonful of ice 
cream on his lap. Embarrassed, he struggled to suppress his jumbled 
emotions. Where's a cold shower when you need one, he thought wryly. 

Quickly looking away, Dick glanced over at a table of teenage girls. 
They were all dressed in maroon and gold cheerleader outfits and trying to 
catch his eye. Dick recognized the school colors as being from a 
neighboring rival school, Gotham Heights High School. Relieved by the 
distraction, Dick acknowledged their waves with a lady-killer smile. 

Babs, stunned by Dick's sparkling smile, stopped her spoon halfway to 
her mouth. It seemed the kid could just "turn it on." Just like Bruce, she 
thought half-disgustedly. Little Dicky had indeed grown up while she was 
away at school. 

The girls collapsed into fits of helpless giggles. One girl started 
shoving another, who just as determinedly was shaking her head, "no!" 

"Go on, fraidy-cat! Ask him!" the first girl urged. 

"No! I'll die! I'll simply perish!" the second girl replied 
desperately. They all burst into giggly-laughter again. 

Barbara's eyes smiled teasingly at Dick. "Dicky's got a gir-irl! 
Dicky's got a gir-irl!" she chanted softly. Dick gave her an exasperated 
look. 

"I don't get it," Dick said, genuinely perplexed. "Why do they act so 
silly? Donna never acts like that...even around Roy. You don't either...at 
least I don't think you do. Do you?" Not waiting for a response, he 
continued. "None of Bruce's girlfriends act like that. I don't 
understand." 

Barbara smiled. "They're just trying to get your attention...it's all 
part of the game. Not all girls act silly, just like not all boys act like 
empty-headed jocks. Most grow out of it, thankfully. Some, unfortunately, 
don't. I'm sure that you'll never have problems finding girls who are 
interested in you, Dick." She smirked suddenly, "You can't go through life 
with those looks and not expect to attract girls like honey." 

Dick rolled his eyes in obvious disbelief. Unperturbed, Barbara 
continued, "But I think you're much too sensible to let it go to your 
head." 

Dick just looked at her, quirking an eyebrow almost in defiance. "Oh 
yeah? Well, what if I just got up right now and walked over to that table 
and asked one of them out on a date? Or better yet, all of them?" 

"Hey, knock yourself out, Boy Wonder. Just remember that if she...or 
they...say, 'yes', then you're stuck with having to go out with them. 
Dates with giggly girls can grow old real fast, real soon. But, then, I'm 
not a sixteen-year-old male who's never had a real date before. Who knows, 
a date with Gotham Heights' entire cheerleader squad may be just what you 
need, Dick...it could actually be the start of real social life." 

Dick gave Babs a sour look, then swallowed a spoonful of his French 
vanilla. A date with a gaggle of giggly girls was the *last* thing he 
wanted. He sighed. Why couldn't Babs see that he wasn't a kid anymore? 

"So, Dick, back to my question," Barbara said. "Are you ever going to 
tell me what's bothering you?" 

"I can't, Babs. Please don't ask me," Dick replied sadly. "It's 
something that I have to work out on my own." 

"Why?" Barbara asked simply. "Dick, if something is bothering you, 
well, you know that I care about you, and I want to help. Something's 
happened to you. Something serious. You seem happy enough, but I can see 
that something's wrong. Tell me. Let me help. I'm your big sister, 
remember?" 

"Yeah, I remember," Dick said ironically, "but you can't help me, Babs. 
No one can. I screwed up bad, and I lost all of Bruce's respect. I don't 
think that I'll ever get it back." 

"What are you talking about, Dick? You told me earlier that Bruce is 
going out of the country and entrusting you with Gotham City, didn't you? 
He wouldn't do that if you'd lost his respect as you say. Dick...Bruce 
loves you like a son, and respects you as an equal." 

Dick snorted at this. "An equal? Bruce? You've gotta be kiddin'!" 

"Well, maybe not an equal exactly, but he certainly respects you and 
your abilities. You *know* that, Dick! How did you ever come up with the 
idea that you'd lost his respect?" 

Dick shook his head determinedly. He glared at her, his dark, intense 
eyes shadowed. 

"I can't tell you, Babs, okay? But, you're right about this weekend. If 
I prove to Bruce that I can do it, that I can take care of Gotham like he 
does, then maybe I can start earning his respect again. Until then...until 
then, I guess I have to live with his contempt." 

At the word "contempt" Barbara almost choked on her ice cream. She fell 
into a coughing fit. As she coughed, one of the teenaged girls who'd been 
ogling Dick finally got up the nerve to come over to their table and talk 
to him. 

"Babs, you okay?" Dick asked worriedly, offering his water. Barbara 
nodded helplessly, waving away his ministrations. 

"Is your mother all right?" the girl asked innocently. The question set off 
another chain of coughing. 

"What?" Dick asked. "Oh! Oh, you mean Babs? She's not my mother...she's 
my--" 

"--sister," Barbara choked out. 

"Oh, sorry," the girl said dismissively. Turning to Dick, she 
introduced herself. "Hi, my name's, Caitlin...Uh, me and my friends were 
wondering if you...Oh, I'm sorry, I haven't asked you your name?" She 
raised her eyebrows questioningly at Dick. 

"Oh, uh, my name's Dick." 

"Hi, Dick," she replied with a smile. She looked ready to melt in 
Dick's presence. It appeared that her life would be complete if she could 
remain standing there admiring him. 

Dick looked at her bemusedly. "Yes?" he asked politely. Caitlin's eyes 
snapped open as if she'd suddenly been awakened. She immediately started 
talking. 

"Oh! Um, uh, hey! Is that *your* car outside? The red convertible?" At 
Dick's nod, she smiled excitedly. "Cool car, Dick! I'd love to go for a 
drive with you some day?" 

Caitlin again gave him her earlier dreamy look. Dick nodded 
uncertainly. Caitlin's smile broadened. 

"Oh, that's *awesome*!" Caitlin squealed, suddenly jumping up in her 
excitement. "Absolutely *awesome*!" She turned and screamed at her 
friends, who by then had gathered excitedly around her. To Dick's 
open-mouthed shock the girls were all soon jumping up and down, shrieking 
and hugging one another in their mutual excitement. Finally, taking deep 
breaths to help calm herself down, Caitlin continued, "Dick, me and my 
friends were wondering if you'd like to come over to my place tomorrow. 
I'm having a party over at my house--it's gonna be--! 

"--Don't tell me," Dick interrupted. "It's gonna be 'awesome'!" 

Caitlin nodded enthusiastically. "Oh, the *absolute*--! Everyone's 
gonna be there! And..." her voice dropped, then she added suggestively, 
"...my parents will be gone for the weekend." Caitlin and her friends 
screeched again in their anticipation. 

Dick blinked at her forwardness. 

"Why isn't that a coincidence, little brother," Barbara interjected. 
She'd finally recovered from her coughing fit. "Dad will be out of town 
this weekend, too. And I promised him that I'd keep a close eye on you for 
him. You're grounded, brat, remember? No parties. I'm sorry, Caitlin, but 
I'm afraid that Dick's gonna have to give you a rain check for this 
weekend. Maybe next time...when your parents are home. I'm sure Dad would 
love to meet them first. That's how he is about all our friends...he likes 
to meet them, and their parents." 

Caitlin looked at Dick commiseratingly, her disappointment palpable. 
"Grounded, huh? Bummer. But hey, maybe next time?" The other girls groaned 
in unison, voicing their sincere regret. 

"Grounded?" a cute brunette wailed. "But that's so not fair!" 

"He's too cute to be grounded!" another complained. 

"The ultimate in cuteness!" still another claimed. 

"I've never seen you in school," a perky strawberry blonde said. "Do 
you go to the Heights?" 

"No, I go to Prep," Dick replied, referring to his school, Gotham City 
Boys' Preparatory. 

The girls groaned in unison again. "Why do all the really cute guys in 
Gotham have to go Prep?" one girl sighed. "It's like a nunnery for boys." 

"Such a waste," another said wistfully. 

Caitlin took out a pen, and quickly wrote something on a napkin. 
"Here's my number. Call me anytime." Caitlin smiled brightly at Dick, with 
just a touch of longing, and gave him a small wave. She and her friends 
then slowly moved away in a group, still muttering their brokenhearted 
disappointment. 

"And he had such a cool car, too..." Caitlin's voice drifted back. 

"Thanks," Dick muttered once the girls were safely out of earshot. 

"You're welcome," Barbara smiled. "Now, back to the topic at hand." 

Dick grimaced. "Please, Babs. Don't start again. I told you that you 
can't help me. It's something that I have to work out for myself." 

"I think you're wrong, Dick," Barbara said quietly. "As much as I 
respect you, I can't stay out of it. I care about you too much. Now, why 
don't you tell me all about it?" 

Reluctantly, Dick nodded. 

*** 

"I'll drive," Barbara said authoritatively. She stood by the driver's 
side door, her hand held out for the keys. "You're in no condition to 
drive." 

"Babs, I had a double scoop of ice cream, not a double shot of vodka," 
Dick protested. 

"I insist...here, gimme your keys." 

Dick sighed. Sometimes being a gentleman took just about every ounce of 
energy within his being. He dutifully took out his car keys and handed 
them over to Barbara. Climbing into the passenger side of his own car, 
Dick slouched, feeling entirely put out by the world. If this is what 
being sixteen was going to be like, then he wanted to skip the whole year. 

"Don't worry, squirt. I've been driving for quite a while now, 
remember? I promise you, I won't put even a small scratch on her." Barbara 
gave Dick an evil grin, then immediately gunned the engine, burning rubber 
for a split second, and taking off as if shot. 

Dick was slammed back into his seat. "Are you *crazy*?" he called. 
"Gotham's got a speed limit!" 

"I know! My Dad's the Police Commissioner, remember?" Then, almost as 
if she'd planned it, Barbara whipped the Porsche past a GCPD patrol car, 
and happily pressed her foot harder on the gas pedal. The patrol car 
instantly turned on its lights and siren and began to follow. 

"What are *doing*?" Dick asked. "That's the GCPD back there. We've 
gotta stop! Babs! Have you gone nuts?" 

Barbara sighed. "Okay, okay...Chill, squirt. I'm pulling over." Barbara 
pulled over and waited for the patrolman to walk up. 

"All right, Speedy," the tired, female voice behind them began. "Let's 
have your driver's license." 

"Hi, Montoya," Barbara greeted sheepishly. She handed the veteran 
officer her license. Montoya looked at Barbara surprised. 

"Young lady, what were you thinking? You could've gotten yourself and 
your young passenger here killed." 

"I'm sorry, Montoya...please, you won't tell Dad will you? I promise 
not do it again." 

"Barbara, you know I have to cite you. You were doing ninety in a 
thirty-mile- an-hour zone...and whose car is this anyway?" 

"Mine," Dick said. He pulled out his registration papers. Montoya took 
them and read them through carefully. After a few minutes, she finally 
arrived at a decision. 

"Okay, you two, here's the deal. You appear next Saturday at the Third 
Precinct for their annual community fundraiser, and I'll forget this 
little incident." 

Dick and Barbara exchanged chagrinned looks. 

"Yes, ma'am," Dick agreed, resignedly. 

"Thanks, Montoya," Barbara said gratefully. "I really owe you." 

"Oh, believe me, little girl," Montoya said, "you most certainly do. 
I'll expect you both Saturday morning at six-thirty a.m.! Sharp! You'll be 
helping set up the food booths." 

The two chastised youngsters nodded glumly. 

When Barbara pulled back into traffic, she gave Dick an apologetic 
look. "I'm sorry, Dick. I guess the car sort of went to my head. I'll make 
it up to you." 

Dick shook his head. "That's okay, Babs. When I tell Bruce what 
happened...well, I guess I won't be driving the car for a while anyway." 

"But why should you tell him? You heard Montoya. If we help out at the 
Third's Annual Community Bazaar fundraiser, she'll forget about this and 
not inform our folks." 

"Babs," Dick replied tiredly. "You forget who my 'Dad' is. You don't 
lie to *him* or fail to tell him the whole truth. Believe me. I know." 

The rest of the drive was completed in silence. As they approached the 
glimmering twin towers of Wayne Enterprises, Dick finally realized that 
they weren't heading towards Barbara's home. 

"Hey, why did you bring us here?" he asked confused. 

"If you're going to confess to Bruce Wayne about what *I* did, then I'm 
just going to make sure that I'm there to take responsibility. I won't let 
you take the blame for something that I did." 

"But I wasn't--" 

"No, Munchkin, I insist!" 

"But, Babs, honest, I wasn't going to--" 

"No, Dick, honestly, you're a real gentlemen, sweetie, but I just 
couldn't let you!" 

"But--!" 

*** 

Chapter Three: Bruce Wayne

***

The two youngsters timidly entered the rarified world of the Wayne 
Enterprises Executive Suite, which was comprised of a series of 
interconnected luxurious offices and conference rooms. The spacious 
reception area overlooked a stunning, sun-dappled atrium, graced by 
charming, dancing fountains and lovely, growing greenery. Dick and Barbara 
took a moment to admire the restful vista. It was a view of which Dick 
never tired. 

They quietly crossed the carpeted reception area over to Bruce Wayne's 
executive assistant's desk. 

Maggie looked up delightedly at the sight of Dick. "Dick! What a 
pleasant surprise. I wasn't expecting you today, sweetie. Are you here to 
see Mister Wayne?" 

At the twin glum nods, Maggie raised a single eyebrow. "Is Mister Wayne 
expecting you?" The two heads shook, no, in tandem. Maggie quirked a small 
smile. "Let me see if he's free." She indicated a pair of chairs for them 
to sit down on. 

A few minutes later, the door to the CEO's private office opened. The 
dark, handsome figure of Bruce Wayne emerged, a small smile lighting his 
usually grim features. 

"Dick. Barbara. What a pleasant surprise. To what do I owe this 
unexpected visit?" Bruce walked up to Barbara and kissed her lightly on 
the cheek. "Barbara, I believe that you're even lovelier than the last 
time I saw you. Come on in, you two. I have a few minutes before my next 
meeting. Maggie, please hold my calls." 

Maggie nodded, smiling sympathetically at Dick as he followed Bruce 
into his office. 

Bruce ushered the unusually quiet duo to a small sitting area in his 
office. 

"Have a seat, you two." He waited while they sat down. "Care for 
something to drink?" 

"No, thank you, sir," Dick said quietly, while Barbara shook her head, 
no. 

"You two look like you have something of great import to get off your 
chests. What happened?" At the kids' quickly exchanged looks, Bruce added 
still pleasantly, but with a slightly harder edge. "It'll go easier on you 
if just tell it straight out." 

Dick sighed and was about to begin, when he was quickly beaten to the 
punch by Barbara... 

"So you see, Bruce, it's all my fault. I did a stupid thing, and we got 
caught." She shook her head, her eyes pleading. "You're not going to tell 
my father are you?" 

"Of course not, Barbara. You're a responsible twenty-one-year-old girl 
who did something incredibly juvenile, just as you said. I expect *you* to 
tell your father yourself." 

"But, Bruce--" Barbara protested. At his stern look, she stopped and 
took a deep breath. "I'll tell Dad myself." She stood up. "I'll wait 
outside. I guess you want to talk to Dick privately." Bruce nodded. As 
Barbara was about to open the door, she turned abruptly. 

"Oh, and while you two are talking in private, Dick why don't you go 
ahead and ask Bruce why you think he's ashamed of you, and feels only 
contempt for you. And Bruce, why don't you tell Dick why you've been 
avoiding him for the past year." She looked at their stunned expressions 
and grinned beatifically. "Oh, and don't forget to tell each other how 
much you love one another. That's all." 

*** 

When the door closed behind Barbara, the room fell into a deathly 
silence. 

Oh, God, please let the floor swallow me, Dick prayed silently. Why are 
girls like that, he added darkly, so sneaky and treacherous? 

"Dick, is that true?" Bruce finally asked. "Do you believe that I feel 
ashamed of you?" Dick looked at him for a long time, feeling the tears of 
shame begin to form behind his eyes. Finally, unable to hold his 
guardian's gaze any longer, Dick dropped his eyes and nodded. 

"Yessir," he whispered. 

"But why? What could possibly have put such a preposterous notion in 
your head?" Bruce sounded sincerely stunned by the revelation. 

"Oh, I don't know," Dick began, attempting to keep a light tone. "Maybe 
it's 'cause since Two-Face's last escape, you've avoided me like I had 
leprosy or something." Dick felt the hot tears finally give way, but he 
didn't care. "Ever since that night...you've hardly talked to me. As soon 
as I walk into a room, you find some excuse to get up and walk out. Except 
when I'm Robin, you won't hardly say a whole sentence to me...and then 
only if you have to." Dick shrugged his shoulders. "I-I know I failed you 
that night. I should've been able to escape. Instead, I fell right into 
his trap, and almost got killed because of it." Dick looked down on the 
floor. "I almost wish I *had* been killed." 

"Don't *say* that!!" Bruce's answering roar could be heard on the other 
side of the door. "Don't *ever* say that...do you hear me?" He quickly 
closed the space between them. "Look at me, Dick," Bruce said fiercely, 
his dark blue eyes piercing his ward's. "I am not, nor have I ever been, 
ashamed of you or anything that you've ever done. You make me proud every 
day that I know you. Do you understand? Proud. Proud of who you are...and 
of the young man you'll become in a few more years. Most of all, I'm proud 
that you're my son." 

Dick looked up at that, then quickly looked away. 

"I don't understand, Bruce. If that's true, then why--?" 

Bruce lowered himself slowly next to Dick on the sofa. He sat still for 
so long, Dick finally turned to see if there was something wrong. Bruce 
ran a hand across his face and through his hair, then looked down at his 
feet. He was almost a mirror image of how Dick had looked just a few 
minutes prior. 

"I'm sorry, Dick," Bruce said softly. "I didn't realize that I'd been 
doing that to you." Bruce let out a sigh, the memories of the previous 
year's pain- filled night suddenly washing over him. "When I saw you 
standing there with the noose around your neck, the hangman ready to throw 
the switch, I think I went a little crazy. You looked so beaten, bruised, 
bloodied. Even from where I stood I could see that you must've been 
suffering from severe internal injuries and broken bones. I just managed 
to throw the batarang and cut the rope...a split second later and..." 
Bruce paused unable to go on. Getting his raging emotions under control, 
he finished. "A split second later and I would've lost you forever. If 
there is anyone that I've felt only shame and contempt for this past year, 
it's been myself." 

Bruce stood up suddenly, his back to Dick. Dick also rose, and feeling 
a bit unsure, walked up next to Bruce. 

"Contempt for yourself?" Dick asked confused. "Buy why? You saved me. 
You saved us both. When I couldn't. Robin the Boy Hostage...big joke. I 
deserve your contempt. I know that I'm not proud of my actions that 
night." 

"No! You have nothing to be ashamed of!" Bruce denied, grabbing Dick by 
the shoulders. He gave the startled boy a good shake. "Do you hear me? You 
did yourself proud that night, Dick. You withstood their unspeakable 
tortures and abominations and still managed to face them down with dignity 
and defiance. Even in the face of death. I couldn't be more proud of you." 

Bruce's fierce eyes softened momentarily, the memory of Dick's heroic 
stance still clear in his mind. Bruce reached up tentatively and brushed a 
stray lock from Dick's forehead. How often had he combed back that same 
lock of hair since Dick first came into his life, Bruce suddenly wondered? 
Remembering what Dick had gone through at the hands of Two-Face and his 
own inability to shield his ward from the atrocities inflicted upon him, 
Bruce felt himself overwhelmed by feelings of self-guilt. 

"I hated Harvey for what he did to you," Bruce whispered intensely. "He 
even videotaped it." At Dick's startled look, Bruce paused, his jaw 
working through his anger. "I didn't tell you that, did I? Harvey intended 
to play it over and over for me while he held me prisoner in that cell 
back in the warehouse. Then after he'd had his fun, gloating at my expense 
and the considerable pain he'd caused me, he was going to lead me to the 
second gallows and execute me as well. But I escaped, and as it turned 
out, that was even better for him. Because when I caught him a couple of 
days later at the old abandoned Channel Two twin broadcast towers...or 
rather, when he let me catch him, he was playing the videotape on what 
seemed to be hundreds of monitors." 

Bruce walked over to the panoramic picture windows that lined his 
executive suite. He stood looking out over his beloved Gotham City, the 
home he'd sworn to protect. 

"You were lying there on all those screens...surrounding me," Bruce 
continued in a faraway voice. "Naked, bleeding, broken. And still they 
kept beating you, long after you'd lost consciousness." His fists 
clenched, Bruce's voice took on a new timbre, almost an animalistic snarl. 
"I wanted to *kill him*...with my bare hands." Bruce paused. He slowly 
unclenched his fists and dropped them to his sides, resting his hot 
forehead on the window's cool glass. After a long moment, he continued, 
his voice barely above a whisper. "I almost did it. I almost killed him 
right there and then. I had his neck between my hands. I felt my hands 
squeezing. Squeezing. I could feel his struggles weakening." 

Dick saw Bruce's shoulders suddenly slump, the weight of his guilt 
bearing heavily upon him. 

"But I couldn't do it. I hated myself even more then. I destroyed all 
of the tapes, but one. While you lay in your bed, near death, and I 
thought that I was going to lose you forever, I played the tape over and 
over, reminding myself that it was my fault. That I was the one who'd 
trained you, encouraged you, and brought you into this dangerous life. I'd 
brought you...a child who trusted me...to *this*. A child whom I'd 
promised to raise and protect. I thought that I'd go mad." 

Bruce paused for several minutes, the silence between them hanging like 
a death shroud. Dick could hear a phone ringing in another office, the 
sound of laughter from somewhere in the executive suite. 

"Then, thankfully, you made a turn for the better. Doctor Leslie 
assured me that you were going to make a full recovery." Bruce turned and 
faced Dick. "I think that the news might have saved my sanity. But the 
harm had already been done." Bruce held his thumb and forefinger close 
together. "You'd come *this* close to dying...and I-I didn't think I that 
could face another close call. Dick, I'm sorry I behaved as I did. I think 
that for the past year I've been living in a self-imposed denial. If I 
didn't talk to you about what happened, then maybe I could pretend that it 
never did." 

"I don't understand, Bruce," Dick said helplessly. "How could not 
talking to me make it all go away?" 

Bruce shrugged his shoulders. "I don't know. It couldn't, I guess." He 
swallowed. "I've told myself over and over that you're alive, that 
everything's all right. I've watched you as Robin for the past year. Your 
performance has been exemplary as usual. You've even improved 
somewhat...I've noticed your stealth skills are better than they've been 
before, and your acrobatics...Kid, if you're not the best all-around 
gymnast in the world..." 

Dick smiled at the compliment. He knew that his natural athletic skills 
had been honed to perfection since he'd started training as Batman's 
partner. 

"You're trusting me to guard Gotham City by myself this weekend," Dick 
reminded his guardian. 

"I know. Believe me, I know. Dick, did you know that the JLA satellite 
transporter can have me here in under a minute?" At Dick's stunned look, 
Bruce smiled sheepishly. "Yeah. I've planned it for several weeks now." He 
gave Dick an apologetic look. "I'm sorry, chum. I assure you that I have 
the utmost trust and confidence in you. It's just that I worry about you. 
And after what happened with Two-Face, I'm afraid that my natural worry 
turned into outright obsession." Bruce sighed. "I promise you, that I 
won't use the JLA satellite transporter. I know you can handle the job. I 
mean...who trained you?" 

Dick smiled uncertainly. "I know you believe in me, Bruce. And I know 
you trust me. What worries me is..." he stopped. 

Bruce gave him a "go on" look. 

"What worries me is your sudden obsession about me getting hurt. I 
mean, let's face it, Bruce. The superhero business isn't exactly 
sanctioned by OSHA." Bruce gave Dick a sardonic grin at the boy's 
reference to the government's occupational safety agency. "I hope it never 
happens again...I mean, I'm certainly gonna do my best to prevent it, but 
I could get hurt again some day. You could, too." 

Bruce gave Dick a half-grin, his eyes acknowledging the truth of Dick's 
statement. "I know, Dick. And either one of us could be killed at home 
from some careless accident. But that doesn't take away from the fact that 
I worry about *you*. Just as Alfred worries about the both of us." Bruce 
walked up to Dick and placed a hand gently on his shoulder. "You're my 
son, and I worry about you." Bruce shrugged. "Better get used to it, kid, 
because on your forty- sixth birthday I'll probably still be worrying 
about you. It's the nature of the beast, you see." 

At Dick's clearly uncomprehending look, Bruce explained. "Parenthood. A 
parent may get stuck with worrying about his kid, but the kid gets stuck 
with his parents' incessant worrying. So, Dick, what this means is that 
while I'm stuck with worrying about you--" 

"--I'm stuck with you worrying about me," Dick finished with a smile. 
"I guess I can live with that, Bruce." 

Bruce returned the smile, squeezing Dick's shoulder gently. "Good." 
Father and son stood in companionable silence for a few moments. His eyes 
taking a mischievous glint, Bruce asked slyly, "So tell me about the 'big 
date' with--" Bruce nodded his head towards the door. Dick understood 
immediately that Bruce meant Barbara. 

"Well, she promised not call me 'Munchkin' anymore," Dick said 
shrugging resignedly. Bruce placed his hand behind Dick's neck and 
squeezed affectionately. 

"Don't worry, chum. You have plenty of time for girls. I mean, you're 
only sixteen. Who knows, in another couple of years, you may even meet a 
girl your own age." Bruce immediately ducked under Dick's fist. 

"Maybe I'll wait till I'm *you're* age, so I can date girls ten years 
younger than me!" Dick shot back laughing. 

"Hey! You've been reading Gotham Gertie's column again," Bruce 
protested. "I assure you, my young friend, that all the women I date are 
most assuredly 'women'." 

Dick sighed. "Don't I *know* it. Who *was* that dish you were out with 
Thursday night?" 

"Dick, I've never dated a 'dish' in my life," Bruce replied 
exasperatedly. "You must have me confused with the spoon who ran away with 
one." Dick smiled at Bruce's rare moment of humor. "But, yeah, Selina Kyle 
*is* quite stunning, isn't she? What do you say to a quiet family dinner 
Friday night, so that you can meet her?" 

Dick's eyebrows traveled all the way up to his hairline. This *was* 
serious. Bruce never introduced Dick to any of his casual dates. Dick was 
suddenly intrigued. 

"I think I can fit a family dinner into my tight social calendar, 
Bruce," Dick said smiling. 

"I'm glad," Bruce said quietly, "because there isn't anything more 
important in the world than 'family', is there?" 

"No, sir, there isn't," Dick agreed making his way towards the door. 

"Oh, by the way, Dick," Bruce called. Dick paused before opening the 
door. "Run a search on the computer for me when you get home. There seems 
to be a strange new crime wave hitting Gotham City." 

"Strange?" Dick asked. "How so?" 

"Strange in that all the robberies seem to be somehow related to cats." 
Bruce shrugged. "Sounds harmless enough, but you never know." 

Dick nodded. "Run a computer check on any feline felonies found in our 
fair city. Gotcha!" 

Bruce threw him a "get out of here" look, and Dick quickly ducked out 
laughing.

***

Chapter Four: Vicky, Selina, and the Cat Burglar! 

***

Dick gave his formal tie one final tug. Perfect! Giving his reflection 
a self- satisfied nod, he checked his watch. Six thirty. He had plenty of 
time before the first guests arrived. There was a brief knock at the door, 
and Bruce stuck his head in. 

"Ready?" he asked brusquely. Dick smirked. He'd never seen Bruce look 
nervous prior to a date before. It appeared that tonight was going to be 
exceptionally fun to watch from the sidelines. 

"Yeah. Lemme get my jacket," Dick replied. Then he added innocently, "I 
thought Ms. Kyle and the other guests weren't due for another half hour?" 

Bruce nodded absentmindedly, his mind obviously on the impending 
evening. Smiling to himself, Dick retrieved his dinner jacket from the 
closet. The two men were dressed in almost identically cut white dinner 
jackets. A formal dinner party in honor of Selina Kyle was Alfred's idea. 
No, Dick amended. It had been Alfred's Command. 

Dick smiled as he recalled the scene from a few nights before when 
Alfred initially expressed his shocked dismay at Bruce's suggestion of a 
casual get together... 

*** 

"'A casual get together', sir?" Alfred's droll voice dripped sarcasm. 
"Pray tell, are we having a backyard barbecue replete with hamburgers, 
hotdogs and relish for Ms. Kyle's first visit to Wayne Manor?" 

"That's a terrific idea, Alf!" Dick replied enthusiastically. "Bruce, a 
barbecue would be so cool. I mean, no offense, but this place can 
sometimes seem like a mausoleum. We don't want to scare off Ms. Kyle after 
only her first visit here. Who knows...she might even walk away thinking 
that you're not some kind of stiff or something." 

"A 'stiff'?" Bruce asked, slightly insulted. 

"Aw, you know what I mean," Dick said. "Like you're part of a museum 
collection. Y'know, like one of those Egyptian mummies that's been dead 
for a few thousand years only doesn't know it yet." Dick looked at Bruce. 
"Well, jeez, Bruce! You don't want her think that you're, like, the living 
dead, do you? I mean, you're the coolest guy in Gotham City, but the whole 
secret identity gig makes it kinda hard for you to show your cool side--" 

Dick stopped. 

Bruce's mouth twitched slightly. The brief twinkle in his eye showed 
that he was trying desperately not to break out in laughter. Or in Bruce's 
case, not to break out in a half-smile. 

Dick grinned broadly, feeling relieved. It was good to see Bruce 
looking happy again. This Selina Kyle must be pretty special, he thought. 
Dick felt suddenly anxious to make a good impression. Maybe a backyard 
barbecue wasn't such a good idea after all. 

"Alfred, I agree with Dick," Bruce was saying thoughtfully. "Selina 
might enjoy a nice informal cookout with just us. Casual...just family--" 

"--Uh, Bruce," Dick interrupted. "Maybe Alfred's right, and we *should* 
put our best formal foot forward." 

"Sir?" Alfred asked taken aback. 

"Well, why not?" Dick replied with a shrug. "I mean, we don't want Ms. 
Kyle to think that we're a bunch of slobs, do we? Let's face it, the 
squalid bachelor pad motif is so overdone." Dick looked at Bruce and 
Alfred. "I think that we should pull out all the stops for Ms. Kyle's 
visit, Bruce--black tie, dinner jacket...the whole nine yards. What d'you 
say?" 

"You don't think that would be too much for a first visit?" Bruce 
asked. "That she wouldn't leave thinking I'm some kind of a 'stiff' as you 
said?" 

"Heck, no. If I were a girl, and I finally got invited to the 'famous' 
Wayne Manor, I think that I'd feel *insulted* if you didn't plan something 
really special for *my* first visit," Dick opined. "Besides, how could any 
girl not fall at your feet? You're a great guy, Bruce! Just ask Alfred!" 

Bruce and Alfred exchanged wry expressions. Bruce crossed his arms and 
gave his ward a pointed look. "And just why, may I ask, are you so 
suddenly interested that I make a good impression?" 

Dick gave Bruce his most guileless look. "I don't know what you're 
talking about, Bruce. All I want is to make Ms. Kyle's first visit to 
Wayne Manor a memorable one for her...and for us." 

Bruce nodded slowly, his disbelief apparent. "Uh-huh. Whatever is going 
through your devious mind, young man, I'm fairly certain that it's way off 
base. I like Selina, and I want you to meet her. That's all." 

"Sure, Bruce," Dick said innocently. "Whatever you say. It's just 
that..." 

"It's just 'what'?" Bruce asked. 

"Well, I just can't remember the last time you brought anyone home 
specifically to meet me. I mean there was that one time with Candy 
Sweet...the 'model'--" Dick rolled his eyes at this. "--who made a pass at 
me--" 

"--Please!" Bruce interrupted, cringing at *that* mistake. Dick had 
only been fourteen at the time. "The less said about that bubble-brained 
blonde, the better! A 'mutual friend' set us up. And I *didn't* invite her 
here specifically to meet you, just for a game of tennis. I gave Ollie a 
piece of my mind later, by the way, for insisting that he introduce us!" 

"Well, there was that one other time when--" Dick began thoughtfully, 
then stopped. All of a sudden, his eyes lit up in laughter. 

"That one other time when, 'what'?" Bruce asked suspiciously. 

"I can't tell you," Dick said, desperately holding back his laughter. 
"I just remembered...Oh, brother! I haven't thought about *that* in years! 
It just *dawned* on me what you two were doing!" 

Dick began laughing helplessly. 

"I could've lived a happy and fulfilling life without ever figuring 
*that* out!" Dick abruptly collapsed on the sofa, his merriment overcoming 
him. "Honestly, Bruce...I never knew. I've never even given it a second 
thought. I *really* honest to God thought we were all just playing--" 

"--Playing?" Bruce interrupted, a suspicious glimmer flitting across 
his dark eyes. 

Dick nodded, trying to suppress his bubbling laughter. "Hide and seek!" 
he finally managed. 

Bruce went suddenly still, his dark countenance thunderous. "You are 
treading on very dangerous ground, young man," he said quietly. "You'd 
best watch your next step very carefully." 

Dick quickly choked on his laughter, swallowing nervously. "Uh, I don't 
know what you mean, Bruce. I was just a kid, remember? *You're* the one 
who told me to go hide downstairs and that you'd come look for me. Is it 
*my* fault that I found...what's her name?...Vicki Vale, first? I mean, it 
was Saturday...You'n me, we *always* had breakfast together in your room 
on Saturdays!" 

"I think my advice is still fairly sound today, Dick," Bruce said, 
grimly. "You'd better run and hide, because when I find you..." 

Dick didn't wait to hear Bruce finish the statement. He immediately 
took off, flying down the mansion's elegant main corridor. 

"You'll never *fiiiinnnnd* me!" Dick called back tauntingly. He heard a 
noise behind. Yawp! Dick couldn't believe his eyes. Bruce was actually 
chasing him, and the look on his guardian's face was not one Dick wanted 
to come up against. Gulping nervously, Dick turned on the speed and 
instinctively sought the high ground. 

"Master Dick! The chandeliers, sir!" 

"Thanks, Alfie," Dick muttered, gratefully. 

"Taking sides, Alfred?" Bruce said from somewhere behind Dick. 

"*I*, sir?" 

Dick lost the rest of Alfred's response as he desperately vaulted over 
a sofa, leaped onto the huge dining room table, and balancing himself like 
kid on a skateboard, easily slid across the highly polished surface, 
narrowly missing an exquisite flower arrangement. 

As Dick came off the opposite end, he launched himself upwards. 
Laughing delightedly, Dick grabbed onto one of the elegant chandeliers 
that graced the Manor's massive formal dining room. Swinging from one to 
another, Dick somersaulted in midair, aiming towards the upper banisters. 

"You can't catch meeeee!" he taunted, bringing himself up and over the 
railing onto the second story landing. 

"Oh, no?" a deep growl threatened behind him. Dick gasped, laughing, 
managed to give Bruce the slip, and the chase was on once again. 

That evening, for a few precious moments, the sounds of playful 
laughter, running feet, and slamming doors echoed through the normally 
staid halls of Wayne Manor. 

*** 

Dick grinned amusedly at the recollection. Glancing over at his 
guardian's serious demeanor, Dick conscientiously tamped down the sudden 
snicker he felt beginning to simmer within. No need to embarrass Bruce 
tonight, he relented. 

The Vicky Vale memory was just one of many forgotten episodes that made 
up Dick's largely happy childhood years in the Manor. As he and Bruce made 
their way downstairs, Dick was suddenly flooded with memories of that 
particular Saturday... 

*** 

Nine-year-old Dick woke up excitedly. It was Saturday! No school today, 
and Bruce didn't have to go to work. Saturdays were a special time for 
Dick and Bruce. Since that first Saturday morning when Dick timidly 
entered the master bedroom to see if his new guardian was awake, Saturday 
mornings spent together had become almost a ritual. 

Over breakfast, the two would discuss local and world events, Dick's 
school week, pending homework, and the status of his training. Bruce, in 
turn, would fill his ward in on the cases Batman was currently working on. 
In all, Saturdays were reserved for their growing father/son relationship. 

In anxious anticipation, Dick quickly slipped on his house shoes 
(Alfred's orders) and rushed to his guardian's bedroom. Not bothering to 
knock, Dick ran up to the foot of the massive bed, then stopped. 

Dick blinked, confusion washing through him. He could hear the 
distinctive sounds of giggles coming from underneath the covers. And from 
where he stood, it looked like more than one person was thrashing about, 
almost as if they were fighting. However, the giggles, and...Dick's eyes 
widened...Bruce's distinctive baritone laughter...made him realize that 
whatever was going on, it must be fun. 

"Can I play, too?" Dick asked innocently. 

The smothered giggles and laughter immediately stopped. Dick heard what 
sounded like a surprised shriek, which was quickly muffled. Bruce's dark 
tousled head instantly appeared from beneath the covers. 

"Dick!?" he asked, nonplussed. "What are you doing here?" 

An attractive strawberry blonde slowly emerged from the covers next to 
Bruce. Dick's eyes widened and his small mouth formed a surprised "O" at 
her somewhat shy appearance. Beautiful blue eyes framed by lovely, long 
eyelashes studied Dick nervously. Dick looked at her curiously. She was 
holding the covers up to her chin, but Dick saw that she was obviously not 
wearing a pajama top. He looked over at Bruce. His guardian was also naked 
from the waist up. 

Alfred will be mad, Dick thought disapprovingly. Alfred told Dick that 
civilized men and women slept in their pajamas. 

"It's Saturday," Dick said, shrugging, in answer to Bruce's question, 
as if that explained everything. He turned to the strange woman and 
addressed her in a rush. "Hi. I'm Dick. Who're *you*? Don't you have any 
PJs?" Not giving her time to reply, Dick shook his head warningly. "Alfred 
won't like that. He gets mad at me if I forget to put mine on." His face 
lighting with an idea, Dick gave her brilliant smile. "I know! You can 
borrow a pair from Bruce." 

The redhead began to laugh softly. She sat up, still holding her covers 
to her chin. "Hi, Dick. I'm Vicky. Vicky Vale. I, uh, didn't think to 
bring any PJs with me, but I appreciate your offer." 

"That's okay," Dick said, running to Bruce's dresser. He pulled up a 
small chair and climbed up on it, pulling open the top drawer. 

"Uh, chum," Bruce began quietly, "that's quite all right. I'll get 
Vicky a set of my pajamas. And you know that's a very good idea. I don't 
why I didn't think of that myself. Vicky, don't you think that was a 
really good idea?" 

Vicky nodded, still smiling. 

"Look, Dick, why don't you run on downstairs and hide? Vicky and I had 
just decided to, uh, play hide and seek...right, Vicky?" Vicky smiled at 
Dick, her eyes dancing merrily. Again, she nodded in agreement. 

"If you go on and hide," Bruce continued, "that'll give Vicky here a 
chance to get dressed, and uh, well, she'll hide, too, and I, um, will 
look for the both of you, then we'll all have breakfast together. What do 
you say?" 

"Oh, boy! You'll never find *me*!" Dick said, laughing happily as he 
ran off to hide. He slid to a halt at the door. Turning around, Dick gave 
Bruce a profoundly thoughtful look. "Are you and Vicky getting married?" 
he asked, seemingly out of the blue. 

Both sets of adult eyes widened at the question. "Why would you ask 
that, chum?" Bruce asked quietly. 

"When I was a little kid, my Mom told me that Mommies and Daddies slept 
in the same bed after they got married." Dick dropped his eyes, then 
raised them slowly, meeting Bruce's longingly. "If you get married and 
have your own little boy, will you still want me?" 

Bruce sat up and called Dick over to him. Dick walked hesitantly back 
to Bruce's side of the bed. Bruce reached for his ward and easily lifted 
him up, sitting Dick next to him on the bed. 

"Listen to me, chum. If I ever get married and have any other children, 
you'll still be my son. I mean, we're partners, right? Don't ever think 
that that'll change. Do you understand?" 

Dick nodded, smiling broadly. Impulsively, he hugged his guardian's 
neck, then turned to Vicky. "You're pretty. Do *you* like little boys?" 

Vicky gave him a wistful smile. "I like little boys very much, Dick. I 
hope one day to have one just like you." 

"Go on, chum," Bruce said. "Scoot. I'll be down in a minute to look for 
you." 

"You'll never *fiiiinnnnd* me!" Dick repeated as he ran happily out the 
door... 

Later that morning, the breakfast dishes long since cleared, Dick sat 
firmly ensconced next to Vicky, within the protective fold of her arm, on 
the large comfortable leather sofa in the Family Room. Bruce lay stretched 
out on the opposite end, the morning paper covering his face as he napped 
quietly. 

While Vicki read out loud, Dick sat cuddling drowsily next to her, 
feeling warm. Mom used to hold him and read to him like this. He began to 
secretly hope that Bruce *would* marry Vicky. 

*** 

Dick smiled at the memory. Sadly, Bruce never asked Vicky to marry him, 
and eventually she found someone else. Bruce never brought another woman 
home who made Dick feel as safe and warm as Vicky did that Saturday 
morning so long ago. 

"Ready, chum?" Bruce asked. 

Dick came back to the present. "As ready as I'll ever be. Do I look 
okay?" 

Bruce's facetious response stopped at his lips. Instead, he gave Dick a 
clinically measured look, taking in his boy's height, build, and 
strikingly handsome features. Bruce gave himself a mental headshake. When 
had his little boy grown up, he asked himself. One day Dick was running 
into his bedroom with a broken train set, begging Bruce to "Fix it for 
me!" and now--? 

Girls made their debuts into high society when they turned sixteen. 
Perhaps Bruce needed to start looking into introducing Dick to Gotham's 
glitterati. Not that the boy needed the old man's help, he added. But 
still... 

"Bruce?" Dick asked. "Something wrong?" 

"What?" Bruce snapped back to the question at hand. "Oh, no. Nothing's 
wrong. No, you look quite striking in your new jacket. The cut's perfect 
on you. And, for once, there's not a hair out of place." Bruce added 
grinning. 

Dick grinned in response. He felt slightly nervous. Besides the guest 
of honor, they were also expecting Lucius and Mattie Fox, along with their 
soon to turn fifteen-year-old son, Tommy. Jim and Barbara Gordon were also 
coming. Dick and Bruce agreed that Selina might feel more comfortable if 
she weren't the sole guest. And, this way Bruce could introduce her to his 
closest friends, as well as, Dick. 

Dick was looking forward to the evening, and to seeing Barbara again. 
Even if she still thought that he was only a kid, he sighed resignedly. 
Maybe, some day, he thought wistfully. 

On the other hand, Dick was happy that Tommy would be there. Dick 
hadn't seen him since Tommy enrolled in a special music program for gifted 
children a couple of years ago. The conservatory he attended was located 
several hours away in Upper Gotham State. The two youngsters exchanged 
occasional letters, but it would be nice to see him again. 

And, of course, he'd finally get to meet the guest of honor, Selina 
Kyle. 

**** 

Perhaps Selina Kyle wasn't a 'dish' as Bruce said, but brother, she 
sure was a *fox* in every sense of the word, Dick thought. He hadn't been 
able keep his eyes off her through the entire meal, to the point that he'd 
hardly spoken two complete sentences to Barbara. 

"Tell me, Jim," Mattie was saying as Alfred cleared the dinner dishes. 
The group was getting ready to move to the family room for coffee and 
dessert. "What's the GCPD doing about this sudden spate of 'cat 
burglaries' that have been plaguing Gotham City?" 

"Cat burglaries?" asked Selina curiously. "How intriguing." To Dick's 
fascination, as Selina tilted her head slightly to give Gordon her full 
attention, the soft glow from the chandeliers above seemed to catch her 
diamond earrings and necklace in a rainbow of defused sparkles. She spoke 
in a soft, sensuous contralto that held Dick in thrall. 

Selina's long, sable hair, worn up in a French twist, was tastefully 
adorned with an emerald comb that set off her exquisite green eyes. She 
was wearing a simple black shift that showed off her gracefully athletic 
figure to its greatest advantage. 

Dick felt somebody's eyes him. He immediately shifted his gaze to 
Bruce, who was glaring at him with a single raised eyebrow. Grinning 
sheepishly, Dick turned his attention to the conversation at hand. 

Gordon was talking about the recent burglaries. His interest piqued, 
Dick listened. He'd spent the greater part of the two previous evenings on 
the Cray computers researching both the current string of robberies and 
any similar ones in the past. What he'd found out was enough to catch even 
Batman's interest... 

"Nothing really intriguing about this particular case, Selina," Gordon 
said gruffly. "The MO has been the same with each robbery. The perp 
selects a high rise apartment building, which is seemingly burglarproof, 
but somehow manages to break in, although not through ordinary means." 

Looking around the table, Gordon saw that he had the other guests' 
attention. Sitting up a bit straighter, he continued. 

"Usually, the burglar gains entrance through a window or the balcony. 
And it doesn't matter what floor he's selected, either. He actually broke 
into a thirty-story apartment once. From the window." Gordon shook his 
head in reluctant admiration. "The building was over forty stories high, 
and near as we could figure, the burglar must've lowered himself from the 
roof, then, using a glass cutter, broke in. However, prior to gaining 
entrance, he first had to disable the alarm system. A very sophisticated 
system, by the way...one of the best available." 

"Is it possible that the burglar knew his victims?" asked Lucius. "It 
seems much too coincidental that he knew exactly where and when to break 
in. Not to mention the location of the valuables that he's stolen." 

Selina gave a soft, almost purr-like laugh. "I thought you said that 
this case wasn't 'intriguing,' Jim. So far, you have *my* undivided 
attention." She looked around the table. "What about the rest of you?" 

"I've been fascinated by it ever since I got home for Spring Break," 
Barbara said. "Remember the other day when you met me at the library, 
squirt?" Ignoring Dick's answering scowl, she continued, "I was doing some 
research into any other cat burglaries with similar MOs for Dad." She 
looked suddenly thoughtful. 

"Did you discover anything, Barbara?" Selina asked, taking a sip from 
her wineglass. 

"I'm not sure, really. May I tell them what I found, Dad?" she asked. 
At Gordon's nod, Barbara related what she'd uncovered with her research. 
"Well, there's really not much to tell other than about thirty-seven years 
ago, there was a string of similar burglaries in town." 

Dick and Bruce exchanged sudden glances. So far Batman and Robin hadn't 
called Batgirl into the case. Apparently, Barbara discovered some of the 
same information that Dick uncovered. 

"So Gotham is in the grips of a reign of terror being visited upon us 
by a sixty-two year old burglar?" Selina asked, laughing softly. Dick 
again noticed Selina's engaging, almost purr-like laughter. 

Barbara smiled, chagrinned. "No. Unfortunately, that cat burglar has 
been dead for these past thirty-seven years. He was killed on his last 
job." She gave her father an apologetic look. 

"What happened, Barbara?" Tommy asked, his curiosity overcoming his 
natural shyness. It was one of the first words the quiet boy had spoken 
that evening. 

Barbara looked around the table. The others' interest encouraged her to 
continue. Within minutes, the dinner guests were transported to another 
time and place... 

*** 

That night, thirty-seven years ago, Barbara began, the cat burglar had 
already hit three other places. His take for the night so far was close to 
fifty grand, a vast amount in those days. 

Like the current cat burglar, the one from thirty-seven years ago also 
seemed to have a strange affinity for cats; although, not to the extent of 
our present one. However, he did at one point, go so far as to wash out 
the food bowl of one of his victims' pets. He even left the poor, hapless 
owner a warning that if she didn't take better care of her cat, he'd be 
back. 

On earlier burglaries, the guy had perhaps hit one or two places, max. 
And he'd never taken more than he could carry. For some reason, though, 
this night he got greedy. As I said before, Barbara continued, he'd 
already hit three other places, so the GCPD was hot on the burglar's 
trail. 

As soon as he cracked open this particular safe, located in the offices 
of the Wayne Foundation, they had him. Apparently, a rookie cop surmised 
that the next target would be the newly established Wayne Foundation 
offices. 

Doctor Thomas Wayne and his wife, Martha, held their first fundraiser that 
night for the Foundation. Apparently, they'd raised close to a 
quarter of a million dollars. Doctor Wayne and his wife were good people 
who opened their hearts--and wallets--to the people of Gotham. They were 
honest and trusting; therefore, they didn't think it necessary to place 
the money in a bank that night, nor to hire any security guards. 

Instead, Doctor Wayne just put all the cash and checks in his office 
safe for the night. The cat burglar struck at about three a.m. The Wayne 
Foundation building was completely deserted. 

Completely deserted, that is, except for one, young, twenty-two year 
old rookie cop, named Jimmy Gordon... 

*** 

Barbara paused. "Care to take it from here, Dad?" 

Gordon smiled at his beloved daughter and took up where she'd left 
off... 

*** 

I was beginning to feel extremely foolish, Gordon began. I mean, I'd 
been ordered to stay off the case by the detectives in charge. This was 
their case, and I was just a wet-behind-the-ears rookie. I'd only been on 
the force for three months. 

But something told me...I don't know, call it gut instinct, that the 
cat burglar was going to strike a fourth time that night. I just knew that 
the three previous robberies that night had been but a practice run for 
the real thing--the big payoff. 

I don't know how I knew, but I knew, as sure as I'm sitting here, that 
this would be the Big One. The last hit. After tonight, the cat burglar 
was going to sit back and live off the laurels of his ill-gotten gains. 

And there was only one place on this particular night that I knew would 
have the kind of money he'd need to retire in style, the Wayne Foundation 
building. 

So, early that evening, I found a broom closet in which to hide. When 
everyone vacated the building for the night, I made my way to Doctor 
Wayne's private office. I found a nice dark corner, pulled up a chair, and 
waited. 

I waited so long that I seriously began to feel like I was on the wrong 
track. But eventually, my waiting paid off. At approximately 
two-fifty-eight, I heard a noise from outside the window. You must 
understand, that Doctor Wayne's office was located on the thirty-ninth 
floor, so anyone outside had no business being there. 

I heard a strange, high-pitched scratching sound, and immediately 
realized that the cat burglar was carefully cutting the glass. Within 
minutes, he was inside. And the strangest thing...I know we'd been calling 
him a 'cat' burglar, but to my surprise that's exactly what he turned out 
to be. The man was wearing some kind of a 'cat' mask--you know, with ears 
and whiskers--and he had on one of those one-piece jobbies, called a 
'cat-suit.' 

I thought I was dealing with either some kind of a wise guy or a real 
nutcase. So, I didn't take any chances. I remained hidden, until he 
committed sufficient offenses in my presence to put him away for life. By 
the time he'd filled his sack with all of the night's take, I had him 
covered. 

I called out, Halt, in the name of the law!...I know, I know, but I was 
young and feeling mighty nervous. Anyway, it did the trick. He stopped 
what he was doing and just stood there, his back to me, his hands held out 
at his sides. 

I started walking towards him, keeping him covered the whole time. You 
have the right to remain silent, I began. Anything you say can and will be 
used against you-- 

That's as far as I got. Next thing I knew, I was tumbling head over 
heels, my gut kicked in. Jeez, but he was fast...quick as a cat! Before I 
could recover, he was letting me have it with *both* feet. I lost my grip 
on my handgun, and we both dove for it. To this day I don't really 
remember what happened next. We struggled for the gun. 

Finally, he managed to wrest it from me altogether. Keeping me covered, 
he slowly backed to the window. He warned me that he didn't want to shoot 
me, but that he would if I interfered. Well, I wasn't about to let him get 
away...not after all this. 

So, still being young and foolish, I saw what I thought was an opening, 
and I dove for him. He fired. I knew I'd been hit. I could feel this 
incredibly cold hand suddenly spreading its fingers through me. I just 
looked at him...I don't know. I must've looked desperate, because he 
dropped the gun, and rushed over to me. 

He began treating the wound by applying pressure to stop the bleeding. 
He ripped up some of my uniform shirt and used it as makeshift bandage. 
While he worked, he cussed me out a blue streak for throwing him off his 
timetable. I was quickly losing consciousness, and although I was grateful 
that he hadn't left me there to bleed to death, I still had a sworn duty 
to perform. 

When his back was to me for a moment, I managed to reach my gun, and 
cocking it, I pointed it at him. I ordered him to bring me the phone, and 
still barely hanging onto reality, I called for backup. 

When at long last, I heard the sirens, I passed out. That's the last I 
remember. When I woke up, I was in the hospital. 

I was told that cat burglar had been killed while trying to escape. The 
GCPD chased him all over the city's rooftops. My partner, O'Malley, told 
me that 'The Cat,' as the burglar had been dubbed that night, was a sight 
to behold, leaping from rooftop to rooftop, swinging from the eaves with 
what looked like a whip. O'Malley said that it was the most incredible 
thing he'd ever seen. Finally, The Cat was surrounded at the Katmandu 
Towers. He had no where to go. He was ordered to surrender, and when he 
didn't give up, the police sniper was ordered to take the shot. 

The force from the impact of the high-powered police sniper rifle threw 
him over the building and down to the waters of the Gotham River below. 
Although, his body and the loot were never recovered, he was presumed 
dead... 

*** 

"I don't understand, Commissioner," Tommy said tentatively. "If The Cat 
tried to save your life when he could've just let you die, why did the 
GCPD kill him?" 

Gordon glanced at him sadly. 

"The official story was that the cat burglar wounded a police officer 
while in the performance of his duty. The *real* reason? Some eager beaver 
cops were out to make a name for themselves at the expense of others' 
lives. That man could've been taken alive. Instead, because of me, he's 
dead today." 

"And because of *him*, you're alive." Selina uttered this last, barely 
above a whisper. Gordon quickly looked over at her, and then slowly nodded 
in agreement. 

"Yes, because of him, I'm still alive today. And believe me, it's a 
guilt I live with every day of my life." 

A solemn gloom seemed to settle over the dinner table. 

As if to alleviate the mood, Bruce suddenly stood and tapped his 
wineglass for attention. 

"Ladies and gentlemen, enough shoptalk for the moment. I would like to 
propose a toast...Gentlemen, if you would please join me?" 

As one, the men all stood. "To the ladies...for gracing us tonight with 
their beauty, their charming dinner conversation, and their most 
delightful company." 

Together, the men intoned cheerfully, "To the ladies!" The women all 
exchanged pleased, yet embarrassed glances at the unexpected accolade. 

"Gentlemen, please assist your lovely dinner partners with their seats. 
It's time that we move on to the Family Room. Alfred will be serving 
coffee and dessert there, and he promises us a big surprise!" 

The other guests gamely went along with Bruce, voicing their 
anticipation of a special surprise from Alfred. 

*** 

Soon the small group of closely-knit friends were all sitting 
comfortably around the Wayne Family Room's massive fireplace. A cheery 
fire helped keep the early Spring chill away. Lucius and Mattie Fox were 
sitting together, hand-in- hand, in a loveseat just big enough for two. 
Lucius leaned over and whispered something to his wife. She turned to him 
suddenly and playfully slapped him on the arm. 

"Look at them," Tommy whispered to Dick. "Like a couple of kids." Dick 
was showing Tommy the baby grand piano. Tommy gasped in delight at its 
clear tones and immediately began playing Beethoven's Moonlight Sonata. 

Dick smiled as he stood next to his childhood friend, watching and 
listening as Tommy played. The Fox's twenty-year marriage had been a 
constant presence in Dick's life. Lucius and Mattie were practically 
family, and Dick cared for Tommy like a kid brother. 

Dick shook his head ruefully. For an only child, you sure have a lot of 
'siblings', Grayson. 

He looked over to where Bruce and Selina were sitting, strangely apart, 
on the large leather sofa immediately in front of the fireplace. Dick 
narrowed his eyes, thoughtfully. What's with that, he wondered? He didn't 
wonder long, however, because at that moment, he caught sight of Barbara 
standing in the dimness near the massive bookcases. 

The dancing flames from the fireplace threw unusual combinations of 
shadows and light in her direction. Dick saw how her flaming red hair 
seemed to just naturally glow by the firelight. She looked like a sunset 
at midnight, he mused. 

"Jim, if you'll pardon my ghoulish curiosity," Selina called over the 
quiet murmur of conversation, "this cat burglar still has me fascinated. 
If the others wouldn't mind, I'm dying to hear some more about the current 
one." She paused, almost like a guilty child caught doing something 
naughty. 

"Well, if the others don't mind me talking cop shop," Gordon replied. 

"Heavens no, Jim! I'm also dying to hear more," Mattie assured him. 

"Me, too," chimed in Tommy, pausing, then continuing with his playing. 

"I'm also interested, Jim," admitted Bruce. 

"Very well, Selina," Gordon said smiling. "What else would you like to 
know about the perp?" 

"'Perp'? 'He?'" Selina asked distastefully. "Are you implying that you 
know your 'cat burglar' is a 'he', Jim?" 

"No, no not at all. We have no clue as to the burglar's gender." 

"That's an interesting point, Jim," Bruce broke in. "Have you managed 
to tie in any female cat burglar MOs to our current thief?" 

"Bruce, I haven't been able to determine *any*thing about our perp," 
Gordon said tiredly, "other than he or she has a fondness for cats." 

"Cats?" Fox asked. "Like the previous cat burglar?" 

"Yes," Gordon said nodding. "Cats. But unlike the first cat burglar who 
broke into office buildings and private homes alike for the simple purpose 
of robbing them, the current burglar has broken only into homes and 
apartments that have a housecat. Usually, the burglar washes the cat's 
bowl and leaves it clean and dry on the kitchen countertop." 

Gordon shrugged his shoulders. 

"Unlike his predecessor, he's never left any letters threatening 
reprisals if the owners don't clean up their act. However, on at least two 
occasions, the burglar has done more than just wash the food bowl, he's 
dumped the litter box in the middle of the living room and taken the cat." 
He looked around the table helplessly. "I don't know...you tell me why 
he'd steal a house cat. It's got *me* stumped!" 

"Maybe the burglar likes cats and he or she is telling the cat owners 
to take better care of their pets," offered Tommy shyly. 

Dick smiled at him and jumped in with his own two cents. "Sure, 
Commissioner," Dick chimed in. "Maybe the reason the burglar took the 
house cats is because they were being mistreated. I know that one act of 
kindness doesn't take away from the fact that the burglar stole some 
expensive jewelry and a large amount of cash. But maybe the burglar is 
only casing places that *have* cats, which for what ever reason, he or she 
believes are being abused." 

"That's quite an astute observation, Dick...Tommy," Selina interjected. 
"Perhaps these young men have a point, Jim. Perhaps, your 'cat burglar' is 
merely giving back some grief to people that he or she believes have been 
either cruel or negligent in the care of their innocent household pets?" 

"You may be onto something, boys...Selina," Gordon said thoughtfully. 
"I'll have my lead detectives look into it first thing tomorrow." 

"What about 'Batman'?" Selina asked. 

"What?! Batman?!" Gordon asked, almost spewing out his drink. He 
quickly dabbed at his lips. "Forgive me, Selina, but the GCPD doesn't 
bother Batman over a string of 'cat burglaries' or 'cat-nappings' for that 
matter. The Dark Knight has enough on his plate with crazies like the 
Joker and Two-Face. There's no reason to bother him with the frightening 
crime wave of the Cat Burglar!" 

The other guests laughed lightly at Gordon's quip. Selina's soft, 
purr-like laugh left Dick a bit reticent. Giving himself a mental 
headshake, Dick smiled to himself. So far, the evening had gone well. The 
others were utterly disarmed by Selina, and Dick liked her from the start. 
She was beautiful, gracious, intelligent, and completely charming. Dick 
felt that she would make a perfect match for Bruce. 

Plus, Bruce was obviously smitten by her. 

"Excuse me, sir," Alfred spoke up from the doorway. "But all is in 
readiness." 

Bruce gave Alfred a brief nod, then turning to the others, he stood. 
"Ladies and gentlemen. It's always special to share a meal with friends 
and family." The others nodded in agreement. "But when we are gathered on 
the occasion of not one, but two birthdays...then, the occasion becomes 
even more memorable." 

Bruce faced Dick. "Dick, I know that sometimes the old man forgets that 
you're growing up. But I assure you that only a blind man wouldn't notice 
tonight just how much you've grown and matured since the first day you 
walked into my life, a small scared kid, with a pair of bright blue eyes 
that could tear a guy's heart out." Bruce swallowed, getting his emotions 
under tight control. "Dick, I'm proud of who you are, and I'm proud of who 
you're going to be. And more than anything else I've ever done in my life, 
Son, I'm proud...and grateful...for the privilege of watching you grow all 
these years." 

Dick stood slowly, stunned by the public tribute from Bruce. He blinked 
rapidly to hold back the sudden onslaught of tears. Unable to articulate a 
coherent answer, Dick stood silently, holding his guardian's gaze for a 
long moment. To lighten the mood, Bruce added, "And no, Dick, you don't 
get another car out of me this year." 

The room erupted in a light smattering of relieved laughter. Barbara 
ran quickly up to Dick and hugged him. "You might be all grown up, Dick," 
she whispered fiercely, "but you're still a squirt." Smiling teasingly, 
Barbara gave Dick a quick, sisterly peck on the cheek, then moved over to 
sit next to her father. 

Bruce walked over to stand next to his boy, and placed his hand warmly 
on Dick's shoulder. He gave Dick a half-smile, then turned and nodded at 
Lucius and Mattie. Lucius immediately stood. 

"Tommy, when I held you for the first time," Lucius began, "you were 
only five minutes old. It was love at first sight. That was fifteen years 
ago, next week, and my love for you hasn't dimmed. Son, your mother and I 
couldn't be prouder of you, or love you more than we do right now." 

"Tommy," Mattie began, "you're my baby boy, and you always will be. But 
tonight, one week before you turn fifteen, your Daddy and I want to--" 
Mattie stopped, overcome with emotion. 

"Your mother and I want to tell you that we are proud...so very 
proud...of the young man that you've become." Lucius paused, near tears. 
"We love you, Tommy." 

Tommy cried out and ran into his parents' arms. Like Bruce, Lucius 
tried to lighten the mood by adding, "And no, you don't get your presents 
until next week!" The others laughed lightly. 

The lights to the family room suddenly went out. Before the gasps of 
surprise from the guests could turn into real panic, Alfred appeared at 
the double doors, a giant birthday cake before him. The room burst into 
spontaneous applause, accompanied by a smattering of ooh's and ahh's. 

The cake had two 'numeral candles' on the center: 15 and 16, which were 
in turn surrounded by the appropriate amount of lit candles. In blue and 
yellow lettering, the words 'Happy Birthday, Dick and Tommy' were written 
in lovely script on the face. 

Dick and Tommy grinned delightedly, and their friends and family began 
to sing "Happy Birthday" to them. The youngsters each quickly made a wish 
and blew out their respective candles. 

The rest of the evening wound down all too soon. Dick didn't really 
have a chance to speak to Barbara, but he and Tommy entertained the other 
guests with a musical interlude, Tommy on the piano; Dick with his guitar. 
They selected a simple John Denver tune that they both knew well, with 
Dick doing the vocals in his clear tenor. 

"Lady, are you crying? Do the tears belong to me? 
Lady, my sweet lady, 
I'm as close as I can be 
I swear to you our time has just begun." 

"Dick," Lucius said into the stunned silence that followed the kids' 
performance, "any time you want, I think that I can get you an audition at 
Tommy's music conservatory." 

Dick dropped his head, embarrassed. "Thanks, Mister Fox," he managed. 
Barbara walked up to him. 

"Dick, I didn't know you could sing so well. And Tommy, your playing is 
as lovely as ever." The youngsters smiled at the compliments. Dick wished 
privately that Barbara knew the song was meant for her. 

"Dick, Tommy," Selina said coming up to them. "Thank you both so much. 
I *love* that song...my father used to sing it all the time when I was a 
little girl." She stopped, suddenly, as if she'd said too much. Then 
smiling graciously, she thanked them again. 

Bruce came up behind her, and gently placed his hands on her arms. "Are 
you ready to go home, Selina?" he asked. Turning to him, Selina gave him a 
smile whose force Dick could feel, all the way over where he was sitting. 

Grinning to himself, Dick crossed his fingers, and quietly repeated his 
birthday wish. "She's the one for him. Please, don't let anything spoil it 
for them." 

"What did you say, squirt?" Barbara asked. At his dark look, she gave 
him an apologetic smile. "I mean, 'what did you say, Dick'?" she amended. 

"Nothing," Dick said, shaking his head. "A birthday wish can't come 
true if you tell it to others. And this is *one* birthday wish that I'm 
gonna do everything in my power to make come true." 

The guests were all slowly saying their good-byes and making their way 
to the front entrance. 

"A lovely evening, Bruce," Mattie said. 

"Dick, don't be a stranger," Tommy added, shaking his hand. "Write me! 
I miss my Gotham friends!" 

"Thanks for having us, Bruce," Gordon said. "Hopefully, by the time I 
see you again, this 'cat burglar' mess will be over." 

"Selina, it was wonderful meeting you," Barbara said. "I hope to see 
you again, soon." 

"Yes, Selina," Mattie called, "I'm having a little brunch next 
Wednesday for some of the executive wives from Wayne Enterprises. We'd 
love to have you. Please, don't make up your mind now. I'll call you on 
Tuesday." 

Selina nodded her head, while giving Bruce a 'Help me out, here' look. 
Bruce simply smiled at her. As the other guests finally drove off, Bruce 
turned to her. 

"Better get used to it, Selina. I'm afraid that Mattie Fox has been 
trying to marry me off since I graduated from college. If she has any say 
in it, you're the next target of opportunity." 

Selina looked seriously at Bruce. 

"Would you prefer that I don't attend?" she asked. 

"Are you kidding? Mattie is part of my strategic plan to wear down your 
resistance." 

"What resistance?" Selina asked suggestively. They immediately looked 
lost in each other. 

Dick, who'd been watching their by-play amusedly, decided that it was 
time to make his exit. "Uh, Ms. Kyle," he began, clearing his throat. 

Bruce and Selina turned as one; they'd obviously forgotten all about 
him. 

"Um, I, uh, just wanted to say that, uh, it's been a real pleasure. I 
mean, that--" 

"Dick, please call me, Selina," she requested. Selina walked up to him 
and gently lay her hand on his arm. "And it's been a real pleasure for me 
to meet you, too. I was very worried about you, you know." At his startled 
look, she nodded for emphasis. "Oh, yes...meeting the teenage son is 
always one of life's awkward moments, but you made it easy for me. And I 
appreciate it." She leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek, causing 
him to blush furiously. "Happy birthday, Dick. And many happy returns." 

Dick smiled at her, then looked quickly over at Bruce, who was watching 
them with a slight smile. Unable to meet their eyes, Dick looked down 
quickly. "I- I'm really happy that you both like each other so much. If-if 
you were ever worried about me...how I'd feel about it...don't be...I-I 
couldn't be happier for Bruce or for you, Ms., uh, S-Selina." With that, 
Dick turned and quickly went up to his room. 

*** 

Chapter Five: Catwoman and the Tigers' Lair! 

***

Robin flitted through the deep shadows afforded by the manmade canyons 
of Gotham City's skyscrapers as easily as one born to the high wire. The 
teenaged vigilante flew with an exuberance he rarely allowed himself. 

Tonight, the city belonged to him. 

Batman was overseas and he'd entrusted the safety of his beloved Gotham 
to his junior partner, Robin the Boy Wonder. And Robin was not about to 
let his mentor and senior partner down. 

Landing easily on the eaves of the Gotham Cathedral, an eerie gothic 
structure comprised of frightening gargoyles and flying buttresses, Robin 
took up a position on one of the cathedral's towering gothic spires. He 
surveyed the city far below. 

As he watched the lights of passing motorcars mingling with the garish 
neon false suns that turned the Gotham night into a scene out of Dante's 
Inferno, Robin recalled the long years of training and hard work that 
finally led to his being here tonight, working solo. 

Commissioner Gordon hadn't been exactly thrilled, Robin thought wryly. 
In fact, he'd been downright displeased... 

*** 

"What! Alone? You're going after these people alone?" Gordon stood on 
the rooftop of GCPD Headquarters, the Batsignal still sending its summons 
into the clear, moonlit night. 

"No offense, son," Gordon said, irritated. "You know I only have the 
greatest respect and admiration for you. But, Robin, understand that these 
men are vicious. They've already left a trail of blood and gore that would 
give even the most experienced police officers pause." Gordon jammed his 
hands in his pockets and shook his head. "No, Robin. I'm sorry." Gordon 
waved dismissively at the Boy Wonder as he turned and started walking back 
towards the rooftop entrance. "I won't be responsible for sending a mere 
child to face these thugs alone." 

At the door, Gordon turned to once again address the teen hero. 

"And another thing--" Gordon never finished. He was alone on the 
rooftop. Gordon felt a familiar eerie feeling wash through him. "Like 
father, like son," he muttered... 

*** 

"Looks like I have to prove myself to Gordon as well as Batman," Robin 
said. He grinned rakishly. "Oh, well. I *love* a challenge!" 

With that, Robin dove off the gothic spires of the Gotham Cathedral and 
allowed himself to enjoy the adrenaline rush he always felt during free 
fall. As the ground rushed up to meet him, Robin calmly shot out a safety 
line to the adjoining building and allowed his momentum to swing him in a 
smooth arc to his next stop. 

"Woo-hoo!" he cried out with boyish enthusiasm. 

Robin felt like a kid during recess. 

For if the Batcave had been the world's greatest playroom for little 
Dicky as he grew up under Batman's stern tutelage, then the Gotham City 
skyline was the world's greatest playground. Batman might view his one-man 
mission with a humorless single-mindedness of purpose, but Robin saw no 
reason why he couldn't do his job *and* have some fun, too. 

When he became Batman's partner, Robin entered the world's most 
dangerous game. At sixteen, he was now a player in the major leagues, 
expected to face off against some of the worst scum that Gotham City, the 
country's most dangerous urban backdrop, could offer. 

"Yeah, I'm a player, all right," he muttered. "A rookie player." And 
tonight, Robin had a gut feeling that all he met were going to put him to 
the test... 

*** 

The vicious thug slapped her again, drawing blood. Thelma gasped at the 
sharp pain. Her head was suddenly yanked back painfully by the hair. 
Thelma could feel his harsh, hot breath near her face. 

"I asked you nicely," he grunted, squeezing her exposed neck for added 
emphasis. "Next time, I won't ask so nice. Now where *is* he?" He struck 
her again, this time close-fisted. Thelma felt her left eye instantly 
swell shut from the impact. 

"I don't *know*," Thelma moaned. "I swear I don't--" 

SLAP!! 

Thelma cried out again. She closed her good eye against the ongoing 
horror before her. Her lips were badly swollen and bleeding. A dark, 
bruise was spreading rapidly across both her cheeks. A steady red stream 
flowed from both nostrils and from the corner of her mouth. 

"Mister Thorne don't like Leo Maxie moving in on his territory, see?" 
SLAP! "Me and the boys don't like it when Mister Thorne is unhappy, see?" 
SLAP! "Now where are Maxie's boys hitting tonight?!" 

Thelma mutely shook her head, no, and waited, exhausted and in 
excruciating pain, for the next blow. Thorne's henchman had established a 
sort of grim rhythm to his interrogation, with his relentless blows coming 
at such regular intervals that Thelma actually began to get a kind of 
perverse comfort in knowing what was coming. 

But the next blow didn't come. 

"Stubborn dame, eh? Okay, my old man knew how to take care of stubborn 
dames. He knew how to make my old lady toe the line. I learned a lot from 
my old man about dealing with women." Thelma felt him move away slightly. 
"Hey, Normie, pass me your cigarette butt. Let's see how closed mouth this 
broad's gonna be when I start marking her pretty face!" 

"No...please," Thelma felt a scream of terror begin to well up within 
her throat. She struggled against her bonds in a helpless panic. 
"Please...don't!" she whimpered. "I don't know where they are...I swear, I 
don't..." 

"Yeah, yeah...you're breaking my heart, Thelma. Leo Maxie don't do 
nuthin' without first talking to you about it. We know who wears the pants 
in Maxie's gang. The whole city knows it. Now, you gonna tell me what I 
wanna know...or is your next doctor's appointment gonna be with the 
plastic surgeon?" 

Thelma turned her face away in a useless attempt to protect herself. 
"Please..." she whimpered softly. "Please, don't hurt me..." 
"Wrong answer, Thelma," Thorne's henchman said mockingly. 

Thelma's scream was that of a cornered animal. "*Dooonnnn'ttt*!!!" 

The threatened attack never materialized. Instead, a gentle, caring 
voice...a very young male voice, her vast experience with men told 
her...was asking her if she was all right. She felt like laughing. 

Of course, I'm not all right, kid, she wanted to shout. Are you stupid 
or something? Rupert Thorne's goons just worked me over! What a stupid 
question... 

The young voice was accompanied by careful, gentle hands that first 
untied her, then swept her up tenderly. 

"Don't worry, ma'am," he said fiercely, "everything's going to be all 
right. I promise." She felt herself being laid down with great 
consideration for her injuries. The soft warmth of a blanket soon 
enveloped her. She felt herself slipping into oblivion. 

"No," Thelma whispered. "I can't sleep...got to stay awake." She forced 
her eyelids to flutter open and fought to focus her blurred vision. Thelma 
concentrated on a brilliant, yellow, red, and green figure an arm's length 
from her. As her dancing vision settled, gathering the various jigsaw 
puzzle pieces together, Thelma successfully separated the three bright 
hues into distinct patterns. 

A young, handsome face, partially obscured by a mask, smiled at her. 

"Help is on the way, ma'am. Just lie there quietly. I promise, I won't 
leave you alone. Magilla Gorilla and his three apes over there won't be 
bothering you for a long time." 

The boy pointed with chin. Four men lay crumpled, unconscious on the 
floor. They didn't look like they'd wake up anytime soon. 

"How did you--?" she started. 

"Trade secret," he said, giving her a devil-may-care smile. The boy's 
bright costume...his underlying bravado and sincere kindness reminded 
Thelma of rumors she'd heard from Maxie's men about a kid who partnered 
with the terrifying hunter of the night, the Batman. 

They'd talked amongst themselves in awed whispers about a kid who 
offset the Dark Knight's grim appearance with his own vivid costume. 
They'd talked about a kid who laughed devilishly while taking out the best 
of Maxie's boys. 

Until this moment, Thelma had dismissed the rumors as just talk. She 
hadn't really believed that either one of the mysterious vigilantes 
existed. 

"You-you're Robin?" Thelma whispered, shocked. At Robin's nod, she felt 
her eyes suddenly tear up. "Why-why did you help *me*?" she asked. "I'm 
Leo Maxie's girl. I only got what I deserved." 

Robin gently placed his hand on her forehead and swept a matted, sweaty 
strand of hair from her face. 

"No, ma'am. You didn't deserve what Thorne's goons did to you. *No* one 
deserves that kind of punishment." He dropped his eyes momentarily. 
"Believe me, I know what I'm talking about." Robin shrugged and gave her 
an encouraging half-smile. "Whatever problems exist between Maxie and 
Thorne, you're not the cause of it. You just got caught in the middle of 
it." 

Thelma snorted, then grimaced in pain. 

"You're just a kid," she managed, bitterly. "What do *you* know?" 
Thelma turned away, the hopelessness of her situation suddenly 
overwhelming her. "If I talked, Maxie would've found out about it, and he 
woulda killed me. If I didn't talk, Thorne's goons wouldn't've liked it, 
and *they* woulda killed me." 

Thelma brought her hand up to her eyes. What had happened to her life? 
She'd had such dreams when she left home. Now, she had nothing left. Even 
the dreams were gone. 

Thelma felt something soft being placed gently in her hand. She opened 
her eyes and squinted against the light: a snow-white handkerchief. Thelma 
felt the tears spilling over. When was the last time a gentleman had 
offered her a handkerchief? 

"I know that we get out of life what we put into it," Robin said 
quietly. "I know that if we take shortcuts that eventually we have to pay 
the price. I know that there's right and there's wrong. And that once we 
choose a path, it's very hard to get off and choose another." 

Thelma turned to Robin and looked at him sadly. "You mean, there's no 
hope left for me?" 

The Boy Wonder smiled kindly. "No ma'am. There's always hope." 

"But you just said--" 

"--I said, that once we choose a path, it's hard to change...I didn't 
say it was impossible. We just gotta *want* to make that change." 

"Know something, Boy Wonder?" Thelma whispered tiredly. "For a 
kid...you sure make a lot of sense." 

With that, Thelma took the first steps necessary to change the course 
of her life. She began to talk... 

*** 

The GCPD SWAT team stealthily surrounded The Combat Zone, a 
disreputable nightclub that catered to some of Gotham's seedier clientele. 
The tip that the latest gang hit was to take place at the club came in 
before midnight. 

Gordon quickly ordered a team assembled and personally led the raid. 
Sergeant Harvey Bullock somehow heard about the hit and managed to tag 
along. Gordon expertly deployed his team, sent his scouts to recon the 
area around the club, received word that the coast was clear, and 
immediately gave the "Go!" command. 

Three officers swiftly fired off concussion and gas grenades. The 
ordinance was designed to render unconscious any living thing inside the 
building. What the concussion grenades didn't take out, the gas grenades 
would. All the SWAT team had to do next was the mopping up. 

They blitzed the building entering from all compass directions. The 
team was effectively masked against the knockout gas, as well as, heavily 
armed and armored against anything the underworld could throw against 
them. The team of professionals moved rapidly and smoothly from room to 
room, quickly and efficiently securing each room before moving to the 
next. 

Before long, Gordon began to have a very strange feeling that all was 
not as it should be. He and his team had been in the building for almost 
ten full minutes and had yet to come across even *one* of Thorne's or 
Maxie's henchmen. 

What was going on? Gordon spoke into his radio. 

"Bullock! What have you got? So far, we've got zip! Only empty rooms!" 

"Commish..." Bullock's halting reply came over the air. "I think you'd 
better get over here, sir...You're *not* going to believe this!" 

When Gordon entered the Combat Zone's main dancehall and bar, he 
stopped. Gordon's jaw dropped as he gazed around the large, open room. 
Hanging from the rafters in twos and threes, obviously struggling against 
their bonds, were twenty of Rupert Thorne's and Leo Maxie's gunsels. 

"It's almost pretty to see, ain't it, Commish?" Bullock asked. "I mean, 
it's kinda like poetry, what with them hoods hanging there, looking like 
Christmas decorations, caught in the glittering light from the spinning 
disco ball." Bullock grinned like a kid about to open to his presents. 
"And look, Commish," he added pointing. "Stocking stuffers!" 

Down the middle of the dance floor, an arsenal of automatic weapons lay 
completely disassembled, the numerous parts lined up neatly along the 
floor, with almost military precision. 

Gordon slowly walked up to the weapons display, surveying it critically 
for possible booby traps. Something white caught his eye. A piece of paper 
was weighed down by an AK-47's firing pin. Gordon bent down and picked it 
up. Unfolding the paper, he read the short message scrawled in a youthful 
hand. 

MERE CHILD'S PLAY!--R. 

Gordon broke into a wide grin. "Okay, kid," he muttered to himself. 
"You proved your point. You *can* do the job alone." 

*** 

Robin smiled to himself. Gordon and his boys in blue should've found 
the little surprise packet he'd left for them. The night so far had 
offered some very interesting moments. Robin's eyes narrowed; his face 
grimaced in a snarl. Thelma was going to be all right, but Thorne's mooks 
had done a thorough job on her. It would be awhile before she showed her 
face in public again. 

Stopping the gang hit provided just the right amount of job 
satisfaction that Robin needed. He smirked, shrugging. No big deal. 
There'd only been twenty of them, after all. 

Hearing the unmistakable sounds of a truck backing up, Robin brought 
his attention back to the problem at hand. He was currently crouched high 
up on one of the many thick branches afforded by a large live oak. The 
broad leaves gave him sufficient cover, yet allowed him to see what was 
going on below. 

There they were. Two of Leo Maxie's boys! Robin shook his head in 
amazement. The anonymous tip he'd received early that evening seemed 
outrageous from the get-go, but the Boy Wonder decided to check it out 
anyway. 

Robin quickly scanned the grounds surrounding him. The chimpanzee area 
was to the East and the Polar Bear Exhibit to his immediate South. The 
henchmen were currently climbing into the rare White Siberian Tiger's 
lair. 

When the call came to the Batcave, Robin believed it a joke at first: 
Someone was planning to steal the rare and priceless Siberian tigers from 
their lair in Gotham's Central Park Zoo. The tigers, a male and female, 
were a goodwill gift from the good citizens of Russia. 

"These guys must be wacko," Robin whispered. He'd grown up in the 
circus. Tigers weren't animals for amateurs to toy with. More 
unpredictable than their wildcat brethren, the lions, the tigers of Haly 
Circus were only handled by their human trainer and his handpicked 
assistants. 

Pop Haly's rule was ironclad. No one else was ever allowed in the 
tiger's cage. 

Robin rolled his eyes. "Well, I said I liked a challenge." He dropped 
to the ground below, and darted silently through the shadows. Maxie's 
henchmen backed a large delivery truck up to the high security fence that 
ran along the tigers' lair. 

Robin went over the lair's layout in his mindseye. Immediately on the 
other side of the fence was a narrow, five-foot ledge, which ended in a 
twenty-foot wide manmade chasm with a sharp thirty-foot drop. Beyond, lay 
the tigers' lair, an engineering feat that accurately recreated the 
Siberian tigers' native Asian environment. 

Robin leaped and easily caught the fence's top edge. Climbing up and 
over, he saw a temporary "bridge" laid out across the twenty-foot gap. He 
heard nervous voices coming from the other side. 

"I tell ya, Lenny," a high, squeaky male voice whined, "this ain't such 
a good idea." 

"Shuddup, willya?" a deeper voice hissed, presumably Lenny. "I swear, 
Stevie, I tollya that if ya didn't have the stomach for this job, then you 
shoulda stayed home!" 

"Aw, come on, Lenny," Stevie protested. "You promised Ma you'd let me 
in on all your heists and get me in good with Mister Maxie." 

"Yeah, yeah, kid, I know," Lenny replied impatiently. "So you're here. 
Now button it...you don't wanna end up as a midnight snack for one of 
these big cats, do ya?" 

No answer. Robin presumed that Stevie was chewing on this food for 
thought. 

"Hand me the rifle," Lenny ordered. 

"I, uh, I ain't got it, Lenny," Stevie said timidly. "I left it in the 
cab. I'm sorry." 

"Jeez, Stevie, you're about as useless as a broken leg, you know that?" 
There was only hurt silence from Stevie. "Well, go get it, you idiot!" 
Lenny ordered, exasperatedly. 

Robin saw one of the two figures below hurry to the truck's cab, while 
the second stood just on the other side of the "bridge." 

Time to make my move, Robin thought. He followed the first hood, 
presumably Stevie, and coming up behind him, lightly tapped him between 
the shoulder blades. Stevie jumped, startled. 

"What--?" he squeaked out. That's all he managed, because Robin knocked 
him out with a single right hook to the jaw. 
"People with glass jaws shouldn't be crooked," Robin tsked under his 
breath. Keeping to the shadows, the junior Caped Crusader came to the rear 
end of the truck. He saw the other crook, still waiting for his partner's 
return. Robin took out a Batarang and shook his head. 

"Like ducks in a pond," he muttered. Throwing with the deadly accuracy 
of a big game hunter, Robin instantly took out the second hood. Robin 
smirked as his target collapsed where he'd stood. 

"Two down," he said satisfied. Robin quickly crossed the temporary 
bridge and picked up the unconscious henchman. That's when he heard it. 

The unmistakable, bone-chilling growl of a large, feline predator. The 
low, rumbling snarl quickly turned into the bloodcurdling shriek of an 
angry tiger protecting his lair. 

"Uh-oh." Robin stood stock-still. It took all of his self-discipline 
and willpower to remain unmoving when his basest instincts were screaming 
at him to run! Slowly, with absolute muscle control, he turned his head in 
the direction of the animal's cry. 

He swallowed. By the dim light afforded by the quarter moon, Robin saw 
two pairs of eyes being reflected back to him in the dark. Robin could 
almost feel the Siberian Tigers' hot breath as they prepared to attack. 

"Uh-oh," he repeated, his voice cracking. "Let's see, Superhero Lesson 
Number Five-oh-two: How to get from point A to point B without provoking a 
hungry, wild tiger into attacking. Oh, gee...I must've played hooky that 
day..." Robin began backing slowly, a teensy bit at a time. 

"Okay, Boy Wonder," he muttered. "Time for Plan B..." He felt the 
unconscious man he was holding begin to stir. "Oh, this is not a good 
time, Lenny," Robin whispered. "If you know what's good for you, you'll 
stay in Sleepy-Time Land." 

Taking out a palm-sized aerosol spray from his utility belt, Robin 
unceremoniously spritzed his groaning guest in the face. The hood's weak 
movements immediately stilled. Nothing like sleeping gas, thought Robin. 

By then, the Teen Dynamo was about halfway across the bridge. 
Unfortunately, he saw that one of the tigers had emerged from its lair and 
was slowly, calmly stalking him. Robin felt a slightly hysterical laugh 
build up in his throat. 

"Of course...*He* knows he's got all the time in the world." Stopping 
his retreat, Robin decided that it was time to face the enemy. He felt a 
cold hand clutching his insides. His parents' warnings to stay away from 
the cat cages suddenly returned in full force... 

*** 

"Dicky! Get away from there! Those cats are dangerous. They're *not* 
pets!" John Grayson sternly admonished his four-year-old son, grabbing him 
by the scruff of the neck. The star aerialist had just caught Dicky 
standing dangerously close to the tiger cage. The little boy was trying to 
reach in and pet one of the beautiful creatures. 

"I'm sorry, Daddy," Dicky said, ready to burst into tears. His Daddy 
*never* yelled him! 

"The Great Valentin is a professional animal trainer, Dicky," Grayson 
said fiercely. He was holding Dicky by the arms, his clear, gray eyes 
burning into his son's. "Any obedience the tigers pay him comes from his 
years' experience of working with large cats. Don't mistake the tigers' 
fear and respect for their trainer as love for him. Remember that, son." 

Dicky looked up his father, a large tear making its way down his cheek. 
Grayson relented and picked up his son, hugging him close to him. 

Later that same season, a tiger escaped and terrorized the circus 
compound. The screams and warnings came in time, but just barely. Little 
Dicky, already an experienced aerialist with several performances under 
his belt, managed to leap and climb out of the way of the crazed, pouncing 
tiger, but not before he'd received the biggest fright of his young life. 

Robin recalled the weeks of nightmares that followed the attack. His 
parents never again had to warn their precocious son to stay away from the 
tigers' cage... 

*** 

Remembering how the roustabouts were finally able to throw a heavy net 
over the animal, successfully immobilizing him before Valentin arrived 
with the tranquilizer gun, Robin realized what he had to do. 

Putting down his human load, Robin assumed a defensive stance and 
slowly began advancing towards the stalking predator. Recalling the Great 
Valentin's soothing tones when addressing his tigers, Robin began crooning 
in a low, melodic voice. 

The tiger responded with a low, menacing growl deep within his throat. 

"Here now, boy...You were given quite a fright weren't you? I know 
you're only trying to defend your home. I don't want to hurt you..." As 
Robin circled the three-hundred pound Siberian Tiger, he slowly and 
carefully removed a special device from his utility belt. 

The tiger suddenly went down on its haunches. His tail began twitching 
dangerously. He was ready to pounce. 

Robin waited tensely. His timing had to be perfect. 

"Or I'm dead meat," he muttered. "Literally." 

"Lennnnnyyy?" a high wail abruptly rang out from across the bridge. 
Robin turned, startled by the sound. "Lenny, where *are* you?" Stevie came 
stumbling from behind the shadows of the truck. 

This was too much for the tiger. In a wild frenzy he sprang, his angry 
roar crying out against these nocturnal disturbances of his home. As the 
cat leaped and cleared the space between himself and his quarry, the 
tiger's angry cry changed into a screech of outrage! 

A heavily weighted, wire mesh net suddenly appeared around him, 
enfolding him and entrapping him at mid-spring. His enraged and frightened 
howls were immediately echoed by his equally terrorized mate. 

"Lenny?" Stevie called out, tremulously. 

"He's on the bridge!" Robin called. "Grab him, and get the hell outta 
here!" Robin quickly turned to face this new, even more dangerous menace. 
She'd come out fighting mad, roaring her displeasure into the night. 

Behind him, he heard the sudden roar of the truck's engines as 
presumably Stevie gunned it. This was soon followed by a deafening crash 
as the temporary bridge was partially dragged back across, then dropped 
down into the manmade chasm, thus cutting off Robin's escape route. 

"You're welcome," Robin muttered ironically. He quickly turned his 
undivided attention back to the advancing tiger. 

"Note to Batman...We really need to carry more than one handy-dandy, 
insta-net in our utility belts." Robin intently studied the crazed female 
predator's moves, ready to react. 

"Okay, Boy Genius, time for Plan C," he muttered to himself. Reaching 
carefully into one of the many pouches in his belt, Robin was startled by 
a new voice behind him. 

"Plan C, Boy Wonder?" 

Without thinking, Robin whirled towards the sound of the low, sultry 
voice. There was no one there! His momentary distraction was the cue the 
female tiger needed. Before Robin could react, she sprang. 

The next few seconds were a blur of activity. As the tiger attacked, a 
new, lithe figure landed gracefully a few feet in front of Robin, between 
him and the leaping tiger. The distinct sound of a cracking whip rang in 
the night. 

"Stop, my pretty one," commanded the new arrival in a soft, crooning 
voice. Before Robin could shout a warning, and to his dumbfounded 
amazement, the tiger shifted her spring in midair. Instead of completing 
her attack on Robin, the tiger landed lightly, and quietly turned to the 
owner of the soothing, calming voice. 

"There, there, my pretty one," the woman intoned, her voice a balm in 
the tiger's frenzied mind. The mysterious woman reached her hand out and 
gently rubbed behind the she-tiger's ear and below the chin. Robin gaped 
as the tiger actually dropped on her side and began purring. "Yes, you're 
just a big kitty, aren't you?" the strange woman purred lovingly. 

"Now, my lovely, why don't you return to your home? Yes, you have the 
little one to think of now, don't you? That's a good mother. I'll send 
your mate in after you in a jiffy. I promise." As the woman spoke, the 
tiger reluctantly regained her feet and meekly returned to her manmade 
lair. 

Robin stood rooted to the same spot. He'd seen a lot of strange things 
in his young life, but he'd never seen anything like what he'd just 
witnessed. Who *was* this woman? And why did he have the niggling feeling 
that there was something vaguely familiar about her voice? 

The lithe figure remained largely in the shadows, but Robin could just 
make out a graceful, athletic build in a one-piece body suit. She seemed 
to be wearing a mask, but he couldn't be certain, as well as, thigh-high 
boots. And, of course, the whip he'd heard her use earlier. 

Calmly turning to face him, the woman emerged into the dim light of the 
quarter moon, a dark silhouette outlined by the greater gloom. Robin 
squinted in the night. Were those pointed ears, he wondered? 

"Who are you?" Robin demanded, then curiously, added, "How'd you *do* 
that?" 

The woman let out a sexy, low, sultry laugh. Almost like a cat's purr, 
Robin thought, his eyes widening. Selina, he wondered? 

"Call me...Catwoman," the mysterious woman replied, as if it were a big 
joke. "And I didn't *do* anything, my little bird. I merely spoke to 
her...one feline to another." Catwoman grinned easily, the picture of a 
cat who'd just swallowed a tasty morsel. "I confess I was hoping to catch 
a flying mouse, but I suppose, beggars can't be choosers." 

With that, Catwoman cracked her whip, momentarily distracting the Boy 
Wonder, while simultaneously tossing a handful of exploding gas pellets at 
his feet... 

*** 

His sense of smell came back first. There was the subtle odor of 
feminine perfume hanging in the air. Where was he? 

Sound came next, accompanied by touch. The distinctive sounds of 
Gotham's street traffic could be heard far below, carried in by the light 
breeze that caressed his cheek. 

Robin finally opened his eyes. Dawn was streaming in through the open 
French windows. Lying still, Robin surveyed his surroundings furtively. He 
was on a large bed in a strange room. He sat up slowly, checking himself 
over carefully. 

He was fine. No wounds. No ropes. No nothing. The open sliding doors 
led to an outdoor balcony several stories up. Wherever he was, Robin was 
obviously free to leave at any time. 

Another smell suddenly assaulted his senses, causing his mouth to water 
instantly. His stomach growled in sympathetic reaction. 

"Oh, good. I'm glad you're hungry," the voice said behind him. 

Robin whirled, instantly reaching for a Batarang. 

"I was afraid you superhero types were too macho to eat or something." 
The strange woman stood calmly in the light streaming in from the open 
balcony windows. The effect was even more stunning than her appearance in 
the tigers' lair. 

She was incredibly beautiful. That much was obvious, even with the 
cat-mask that covered half her face. Robin took in her perfect physique, 
which was emphasized by her one-piece cat-suit. The costume didn't leave 
much to the imagination. Robin felt himself blushing furiously. 

He immediately took refuge inside his cape, a nervous habit he'd picked 
up as a child superhero. When up against unknown odds, Joker to the left, 
the Riddler to the right, Two-Face coming up behind you, a guy had to 
stand his ground with defiant dignity. Enclosing the cape completely 
around himself, somehow made Robin feel somewhat less exposed. 

Yeah, right, Grayson, he chastised silently. 

"Why am I here?" Robin demanded. "Why did you bring me? Catwoman, 
right?" 

She smiled, revealing a perfect set of beautiful straight teeth. Again, 
Robin felt that he knew her. Not Selina, please, he thought. How would he 
tell Bruce? These thoughts and others flashed through the Boy Wonder's 
mind as his hostess indicated that he follow her. 

*** 

"So you see, Robin," Catwoman said, leaning back sensuously on her 
chaise lounge, "my intentions are strictly honorable." Robin noted that 
the mysterious woman intentionally rolled her "r's" when she spoke, 
further emphasizing her assumed feline role. Catwoman gave him a purr-like 
sound from deep within her throat. 

Robin carefully wiped his mouth with his napkin. There were no 
complaints from him over the breakfast she'd offered him as a token 
apology for dragging him to her "lair." He watched her subtle movements 
closely. Robin might not have much experience with women, but he knew a 
come-on when he saw one. Catwoman was obviously toying with him. 

"So let me get this straight," Robin began. "*You* sent that anonymous 
tip about the impending theft of the Siberian tigers, because you heard 
that Leo Maxie has been dealing in the illegal black market trade of 
endangered species?" 

Catwoman smiled, stretching out luxuriously on her lounge. "Yes...I may 
not like the idea of keeping those beautiful animals in the zoo, but I've 
made it my business to study how the Gotham Zoo cares for its animals. The 
female is one of the first Siberian she-tigers that has actually conceived 
while in captivity. The zoo veterinary staff is one of the best in the 
country and making fantastic strides in stemming the extinction of these 
rare cats." 

Catwoman turned her emerald gaze on the Boy Wonder, giving him a slow, 
deliberate blink. Robin noted, relieved, that her pupils were normal, 
rather than slitted like a cat's. Then again, he seemed to recall that the 
big cats didn't have slits, but rather rounded pupils. 

If this Catwoman were closer to the larger predators in make-up, then 
she was that much more dangerous. Maybe, "normal" pupils weren't exactly 
such a good thing after all, Robin mused. 

"Okay," Robin nodded, conceding her point. "But this doesn't explain 
why you dragged me here, or why you've been pulling a string of cat 
burglaries around town." 

Catwoman gave him a slow, sensuous, pulse-pounding smile. "String of 
'cat burglaries'? Why, whatever do you mean, Boy Wonder? You don't believe 
that *I'm* involved in these inexplicable burglaries of house cats, do 
you? Search my place...I assure you, you won't find nary a stolen cat." 

Robin shook his head. "You know that the missing cats aren't the issue. 
It's the half-million in stolen jewels and cash that's caught *our* 
interest." Robin emphasized the "our"--implying in no uncertain words 
*whose* interest she'd piqued: Batman's. 

"Look, ma'am, I don't know what you're trying to pull, but you know 
that I can easily find out who you are just by running a trace on the 
address here. Do you want the world to know who the Catwoman really is?" 
Robin paused, gauging her reactions. 

"Do you really want Batman on your trail? Believe me, much more 
dangerous criminals than you have had their careers cut short by him. And 
there are not a few in both Blackgate Prison and Arkham Asylum who wake up 
screaming every night because of him." 

Robin gave Catwoman his most intense glare. She blinked in surprise by 
the ferocity of his angry stare. Robin might be a kid sidekick, but his 
scowl had been stopping criminals in their tracks since he was about 
twelve. 

"I don't want to have to tell Batman that I ran into you, ma'am. I 
don't want to have to tell him who you really are. Look, you seem like a 
nice lady. Why don't you drop the Cat identity now before it goes any 
further. If you return the stolen jewels, you can probably get probation. 
I mean, this string of burglaries can all be collated into a single 
burglary count--a first offense." 

Robin felt himself pleading. If this *was* Selina, he wanted to do 
everything in his power to keep her from continuing on this life of crime. 
For Bruce's sake. 

"A good lawyer can get you off. If you need legal help, well, I hear 
that the Wayne Foundation provides pro bono--" 

"No!" Catwoman hissed. "I want *nothing* from the Wayne Foundation...do 
you hear me? The Wayne Foundation destroyed my fa--" she stopped suddenly. 
Catwoman slowly rose to her full height. Robin likewise jumped to his 
feet. 

Like it or not, she'd demonstrated last night that she could be 
dangerous. 

"I want *nothing* from the Wayne Foundation," Catwoman repeated, 
ferociously. 

Robin shook his head in confusion. Had it all been an act on her part? 
Had she never even *liked* Bruce? 

"I don't understand. Bruce Wayne is one of Gotham's leading citizens, 
and I assure you, ma'am, he's a good man. There are rich guys who talk a 
good game and there are rich guys who mean what they say. Wayne falls into 
the second category. The Wayne Foundation--" 

"--the Wayne Foundation is a house of mirrors, little Robin. It 
presents one face to the outside, while it distorts the truth behind its 
pretty facade. This whole town is rotten from the inside out, from your 
GCPD and Police Commissioner Gordon, to your precious Wayne Foundation." 

Robin shook his head. "You're wrong, Catwoman. You couldn't be further 
from the truth. I admit Gotham City has a tendency to destroy the weak and 
helpless...That's why there's a Batman and Robin, to help stem the tide of 
darkness that seems to be sweeping in. But believe me, Catwoman. The GCPD 
and Gordon are clean...and Wayne...Like I said, he's a good man. You'll 
just have to take my word on it." 

Catwoman suddenly cracked her whip across the breakfast table, 
scattering leftovers and dishes in every direction. Robin instantly 
somersaulted high and backwards, landing instantly in a crouch, at ready. 
To his shocked dismay, Catwoman continued to lash out at the furniture 
around her in a wild frenzy. 

As she struck out with her whip, again and again, Robin heard Catwoman 
muttering under her breath. 

"No! I *don't* believe it! *They* did it! *They* destroyed him! And 
I'll *see* that they pay!" Within moments, her rage spent, she stood in 
the middle of the room, surveying the damage. 

"I'll make them pay, Daddy," she whispered. 

Whirling suddenly around, she threw a handful of pellets at Robin's 
feet, which exploded instantaneously. As the gas overcame him, he groaned 
in self- reproachment. "Not againnnn..." 

*** 

The cold, wet cloth on his forehead startled him awake. Robin's eyes 
jerked open, then cringed shut against the room's single, naked light 
bulb. 

"Uhhnnnn..." he groaned helplessly. "Where am I...?" He turned his head 
in the direction of a dim figure nearby. The shadows in the room were 
eerily waxing and waning in time to the lone bulb's back and forth 
swinging motion. 

"Hey, squirt," a quiet voice said next to him. "How're you feeling?" 

"Babs?" he whispered. 

"Shhhhh, Boy Wonder," the gentle voice admonished quietly. "It's 
Batgirl." Robin brought his hand up to his eyes, then slowly opened them, 
careful not to let in too much light. He swallowed, his throat dry. 

"Batgirl?" Robin looked up her at her cowled face. Her lovely, green 
eyes were smiling. Where--?" He looked around the room. He was in the same 
place that he'd awakened in earlier. Much earlier. Robin's internal clock 
told him that several hours had passed. However, the room looked 
different. 

With the exception of the bed Robin was lying on, all the furnishings 
were gone. The paintings and mirrors that hung on the walls previously had 
since been removed. Even the ceiling light fixtures were missing, the 
single incandescent bulb left in their place. 

Robin blinked in confusion. What was going on? 

Turning his head towards the open balcony doors, he quickly noted that 
it was nighttime already. 

Robin brought his hand up to his face. Thank goodness, his mask was 
still in place. A lot of good that did him, though. Robin had no way of 
knowing whether Catwoman might have peeked under his mask. 

"What happened? What are you doing here?" he asked, blearily. "How did 
you know where to find me?" 

"Hey, easy, Boy Wonder," Batgirl said soothingly. "Do you remember how 
you got here?" 

Robin shook his head, no. He felt slightly guilty for being less than 
truthful. Unable to look Batgirl in the eyes, he looked away. "How'd you 
find me, anyway?" Robin repeated. 

Seeing that Robin was physically all right, Batgirl sat next to him on 
the side of the bed. She patiently explained how she'd found him. 

"A mutual friend contacted me at home," she began. Robin knew instantly 
that she meant Alfred. "He was deathly worried when you didn't come home 
last night and asked me to help look for you. I traced your moves, but 
lost your trail at the Gotham City Park Zoo." 

Batgirl turned away, ashamed that she hadn't been able to track him 
better. Batman would've found him, she thought. Batman would've moved 
heaven and earth if he believed Robin might be in serious danger. 

"Batgirl...hey, it's okay," Robin said softly, understanding what she 
was going through. He placed his hand gently over hers in reassurance. 
Smiling gratefully, she continued her tale. 

"Anyway, early this evening an anonymous tip came, reporting your 
location. I jumped in the 'you-know-what'--" Batgirl grinned at Robin's 
shocked look. 

"--You took the *Bat*mobile?" he asked, his voice cracking. Even *he* 
hadn't taken the Batmobile, Robin wanted to protest, and *he* had 
permission to drive her. Never mind that he preferred his Robin cycle. 
That was beside the point. "I'm dead," he added, falling back on the bed. 

"Oh, don't be such a spoilsport. Our mutual friend insisted that I take 
her...said that *your* safety was of paramount importance and that Batman 
would agree." 

Robin sighed. "Okay, okay. Go on with the story." 

"Not much more to tell. I got here as soon as I could. Because of the 
building's condition, I had to move fairly slow, but the directions I'd 
been given of your location were accurate. I found you exactly where we 
were told you'd be." 

"What do you mean...you were slowed by the building's condition?" Robin 
asked curiously. 

"You mean you don't know?" Batgirl asked. At Robin's blank look, 
Batgirl gave him her signature, teasing smile. "Come on, Sleeping Beauty, 
and I'll show you." 

Robin groaned. He had a sinking feeling that he wasn't going to hear 
the end of this one. 

"Why me?" Robin dropped his head between his knees. 

Batgirl slapped him upside the head. "Hey, come on, squirt. None of 
that. Who were you after last night anyway? Did you at least get a look at 
whoever did this to you?" 

"If I knew that don't you think I'd tell you?" Robin growled. He felt 
like the worst kind of heel for not confiding in Batgirl, but Catwoman was 
his. 

"Okay, junior, let's watch the attitude. Now come on. Let's get outta 
here, before the whole building falls on top of us." 

Robin looked at her sourly. "What do you mean by that?" 

"Just this." Batgirl stood up and walked towards the wall separating 
his bedroom from the next room. Placing her hands along an invisible seam, 
Batgirl suddenly pulled. Her rippling muscles underneath her costume 
showed the strength of her exertion. 

Robin heard a strange tearing sound, and then half the wall started 
coming down. 

"Batgirl, watch out!" Robin shouted in warning, but Batgirl was already 
out of the way of the falling drywall. To Robin's astonishment, he saw 
only the skeletal structure of a dilapidated building on the other side. 

"What in the--" he began. 

"You're in the old Katmandu Towers," Batgirl explained. "The city 
condemned it over three years ago. It's scheduled to be demolished later 
this week." Batgirl let her words sink in. "Whoever brought you here, Boy 
Wonder, went to a lot of trouble to fix up this little Robin's nest. Are 
you *sure* you don't remember anything?" 

"Look, I already told you--" 

"I know. I know," Batgirl interrupted. "You don't remember anything. 
Okay, squirt. Let's get of here. There's someone who's been worried sick 
about you now for almost twenty-four hours. I promised him I'd bring you 
home." 

Robin just looked at her and slowly nodded in agreement. 

As the two young crimefighters simultaneously shot out their jump lines 
into the night sky, Robin made a solemn vow. 

I don't what your game is, Catwoman, but when I catch up to you, I 
intend to find out. You're mine. 

*** 

Chapter Six: On the trail of the Cat! 

***

"Tell 'em I'm sick," Dick said, not looking up from the Cray monitors. 
"Ask 'em for my homework assignments for the next few days. And don't 
worry. I won't fall behind." 

"But Master Bruce left specific orders that you were not to miss any 
school during his absence!" Alfred protested. 

"Sorry, Alf," Dick muttered. "But this is one time that little Dicky 
doesn't follow orders." 

"Master Richard, I must insist--!" Alfred began. 

Dick stopped what he was doing and spun his desk chair around to face 
his friend and confidant. 

"Look, Alfred," Dick said with quiet intensity. "I wouldn't do this if 
it wasn't important. You *know* that. Bruce has been delayed in Europe. 
Gotham *needs* me on the job while he's gone. This *Catwoman* made a fool 
out of me, and I don't intend to let her get away with it. I'm going to--" 

"--I *thought* that it was the protection of the city that was 
important, young sir," Alfred interrupted. "It sounds to me as if you are 
being driven by the need to avenge this Catwoman for humiliating you." 

Dick stared at Alfred as if he'd been slapped. He shook his head in 
vehement denial. "No! That's *not* true! Catwoman has been going around 
Gotham robbing its leading citizens blind. My *only* motivation is stop 
her crime spree and see that she's brought to justice!" 

"I see. And this Catwoman's current 'crime spree,' as you call it, 
includes rescuing common household cats from homes that have been less 
than sterling in their pets' treatment. Tipping you off about a robbery in 
progress of two priceless Siberian Tigers. Rescuing you from the female 
tiger's attack, and--" Alfred paused, placing his thumb and forefinger on 
his chin. "--Oh, pardon me. It seems that I've come back to the fact that 
she humiliated you." 

Dick glared icicles at Alfred. Clenching his fists at his sides, and 
unable to trust himself to speak, Dick abruptly turned and made his way to 
the Batcave's gym. Not bothering to change into his workout clothes, Dick 
threw himself onto one of the apparatuses and started on one of his more 
complicated routines with a vengeance. 

Alfred watched silently for a long moment, then left without another 
word. 

Dick worked feverishly, driven by a stinging fury that only a 
sixteen-year-old boy who's been shamed by a woman can feel. 

"I'll *show* her!" Dick muttered, swinging and releasing, gripping then 
releasing again. "Just wait. I don't care what it takes--" Swing, release, 
somersault, catch, exchange, repeat. "--but when I catch up to her--" 
Release, free-fall, tuck, roll, grip. "--I'm going to..." 

Dick abruptly stopped his forward momentum. This awkward halt to his 
routine made his arms feel as if they were being pulled out of their 
sockets. Reaching his left hand out for a nearby safety line, Dick took a 
solid handhold, then lowered himself slowly to the floor. 

Dick stood on the gym floor for several minutes, assessing his inner 
motivations. Alfred was right. Dick *was* out for personal vengeance. 

Dick sighed. "You're a real loser, Grayson. Bruce finally *trusts* you 
to act like an adult, and what do you do? You act like the worst kind of 
rookie batter who's just had his ears dusted off by a major league 
pitcher." Dick kicked at an invisible object. "And look at how you talked 
to Alfred. Like a spoiled brat!" 

"Oh, I wouldn't call you that, Master Dick," Alfred's quiet voice said 
behind him. Dick whirled around. 

"But it's the truth, Alfred! I *did* act like a brat." 

"Indubitably, young sir," Alfred said, drolly. "Nevertheless, I *still* 
wouldn't call you that." 

Dick stared wordlessly at Alfred. Realizing that the Wayne butler was 
gently teasing him, he broke out in an embarrassed grin. Dick ducked his 
head and scuffed the floor in front of him. "I'm sorry, Alf...I was wrong. 
Can you forgive me?" 

"Nothing to forgive, young sir," Alfred reassured his youngest charge. 
Then in his best Drill Sergeant's voice commanded, "You have five minutes 
to be upstairs. Showered, dressed and ready for school. Go!" 

Dick took off, taking the steps that led up to the Manor three at a 
time. 

*** 

Dick quickly fell into his new temporary routine: school, homework, 
dinner, and evening patrol. Because this was a regular school week, Robin 
was under a strict curfew. He had to be back home by midnight, or Robin's 
wings would be clipped. 

Because of the inflexible limits that he was forced to work under, 
Robin planned his days carefully, almost to the exact minute. Dick 
optimized any free time he received during the school day, catching up on 
schoolwork or required reading. Therefore, by the time he roared his 
Porsche into its berth in the vast Wayne parking garage, Dick had but a 
minimum of homework to complete. 

By four-thirty, Dick was already downstairs in the Batcave working on 
his current Catwoman case. Having developed a working hypothesis--Catwoman 
was somehow tied to the original Cat burglar of thirty-seven years 
ago--Dick worked furiously on finding the missing link. 

Selina Kyle...the woman's image kept coming back to Dick. Her soft, 
almost purr-like laugh, the graceful way she moved, her slim athletic 
build...Dick knew in his gut that she and this Catwoman were one and same. 

He paused for a moment, thinking about Bruce. How would this discovery 
affect his guardian? More than anything else in the world, Dick wanted 
Bruce to be happy. Bruce had had so much pain in his life that sometimes 
it seemed a cloud of sadness hung over him. The last thing Dick wanted was 
to bring him more pain. 

Dick shook his head. No, if Bruce had the same suspicions that Dick 
did, he wouldn't hesitate to pursue any leads. The worst action Dick could 
take in this matter was inaction. Dick went over in his mind everything he 
could remember about the dinner party... 

Selina insisting that Gordon talk about the current burglaries. 

Selina questioning whether they suspected the burglar was male. 

Selina urging Barbara to share what she'd found out about the 
burglaries of thirty-seven years ago. 

Selina laughing and saying... 

Dick paused, sitting up straighter. "Wait a minute! What did she say? 
Something about how we're under a-a 'reign of terror'--?" 

Selina's sultry voice rang in his head: "So Gotham is in the grips of a 
reign of terror being visited upon us by a sixty-two year old burglar?" 

Dick sat still, his heart racing. He held a pen in his hand and was 
absentmindedly clicking it. Realizing what he was doing, Dick began to 
chew it instead. 

"Selina said, 'a sixty-two year old burglar,'" Dick mused. "*Not* a 
'thirty- seven-year old' one." He began twirling the pen from finger to 
finger. "Now *who* exactly was she talking about?" Dick muttered. 

Sitting back on his swivel chair, Dick began swinging himself back and 
forth, lost in thought. Abruptly coming to a decision, Dick sat up and 
immediately started running a new search on 'Selina Kyle'... 

Hours later, too late to go out on patrol, Dick finally put the Crays 
in sleep mode. He squeezed his tired eyes, saddened by the information 
he'd finally managed to uncover. 

If Selina Kyle and the Catwoman weren't one and the same person, then 
Dick would eat his cape. 

*** 

Now, he thought. 

"Oh, excuse me, ma'am!" Dick apologized profusely, quickly getting down 
on his hands and knees. He'd deliberately bumped into his target, 
practically knocking her to the floor. "I wasn't watching what I was--" He 
stopped, open-mouthed. 

"Selina!" Dick cried, in wide-eyed shock. "I can't believe it!" Looking 
around at the scattered parcels, he gulped and started helping her gather 
her purchases. "Oh, brother...I am *so* sorry!" 

Selina gave a soft laugh. "Don't be silly, Dick. It was an accident." 
She stood slowly, accepting her packages from the slightly 
chastised-looking boy. "Tell me. What are you *doing* here?" Selina's 
expression took in the sprawling Gotham City indoor mall. "Shouldn't you 
be in school or something?" 

Dick laughed. 

"Are you *kidding*? School's out for the day! I usually go straight 
home, but Alfred gave me a pass for the afternoon." He shrugged his 
shoulders. "I don't know...just thought I'd hang for a couple of hours. 
You know, check the place out..." 

He paused as a pair of high school girls passed by them, giggling when 
they noticed him. Dick unselfconsciously followed them with his eyes. 
Feeling Selina's gaze on him, he turned to her, smiling sheepishly. 

"Check out the sights," he added, humorously waggling his eye brows. 

"I see," Selina said, returning his smile. "Well, if it wouldn't ruin 
your reputation, would you care to join me for a quick bite? I was just 
about to take a dinner break." 

Dick turned on his best smile. "Oh, please! Spending time with you, 
Selina, can only *enhance* my reputation! In fact," he added sotto voce, 
"a couple of my classmates are standing over there turning slightly 
green." Offering to take her packages, Dick and Selina started walking 
towards the mall food court. 

As they sat with their fast food selections, Dick pointed at Selina's 
taco salad with his fork. He'd opted for a Greek salad and a side of bread 
sticks. 

"Funny, you don't seem the type," he said thoughtfully. "I mean, you 
look so, um, *athletic* and *fit*, I guess." He blushed suddenly, 
remembering the Catwoman costume. 

Selina's eyes smiled at him. "Oh, I'm full of vices, Dick," she warned. 
"You'd be surprised." 

I'll bet you are, he thought, darkly. Smiling guilelessly, Dick 
concentrated on his salad for a several moments. Finally, as if overcome 
with curiosity, he asked, "Selina...you don't have to answer this if you 
don't want to...I mean it's really none of my business, but--" 

Dick looked away momentarily, as if gauging his next words. 

"Now you've got me interested," Selina said. "Go on. But what--?" she 
nudged him. 

"Well, Bruce hasn't really talked to me about it, and I was kinda 
wondering...How did you two meet? I mean, one day Bruce is his usual 
taciturn self. Asking me if I've done my homework and what am I studying 
in school. The next day, he's telling me he'd like me to meet you." 

"And having you meet me...that's unusual?" Selina's voice was carefully 
neutral, but Dick could tell that her interest was piqued. 

"Heck, yeah!" Dick replied. "I mean, Bruce has a real playboy 
reputation in town and everything, but it's all gossip. Really!" He caught 
Selina's disbelieving gaze and blushed. "Well...mostly, anyway. At least, 
I *think* it is--" Dick felt himself stumbling. This wasn't how the 
conversation was supposed to go, he scolded himself! 

"Never mind all that," Selina said. "I don't think I *want* to know!" 

Dick smiled gratefully. "What I meant to say was that Bruce has never 
really brought someone home for me to meet. So..." Dick paused, assessing 
the effect of his words. "I figure that you must be someone pretty special 
to him." He shrugged. "That's all, honest! I was just curious how you two 
met, and--" 

"--And what?" she asked, gently. Dick swallowed. He was entering 
dangerous ground. Dick was no longer investigating a case, he was now 
asking a personal question on behalf of Bruce *and* himself. 

"And what your intentions are with Bruce," he said quietly. To mask his 
confusion, Dick took a quick bite out of his breadstick. He felt Selina 
watching him, weighing the motivation behind the question. Finally, as if 
satisfied of his need for truth, Selina answered his questions. 

"Bruce and I met quite by design," she began. At his startled look, 
Selina laughed softly. "Oh, yes. I wrangled and invitation to the special 
showing of the Catseye Jewel at the Gotham Museum of Gemology a few weeks 
ago. It's currently on loan from Peru." 

Dick nodded. "Yeah, that's right. It's believed to have been part of an 
Inca ruler's scepter. The scepter's end was supposed to be in the shape of 
a puma's head, the sign of Incan royal power. The jewel was literally the 
eye of the puma. The story goes that the Catseye was endowed with some 
kind of mystical power. Whoever possessed it was said to be able to 
magically transform themselves into the form of the South American great 
puma." 

"Yes," Selina agreed, nodding. "Apparently not long after the Europeans 
began exploring the jungles of South America, they heard about the Catseye 
and its power. The Spanish Conquistadors killed the Inca ruler and stole 
the scepter. Besides the Catseye, the scepter was lavishly decorated with 
several more precious gems. These were all removed and scattered among the 
Spaniards. The Catseye is the only one that's ever been recovered." 

"Unfortunately," Selina sighed, "the arcane knowledge of how to use the 
Catseye's morphing powers was lost along with the death of the last person 
who wielded it, the Inca ruler. Have you seen the Catseye exhibit?" She 
asked Dick. He shook his head, no. 

"It's quite exquisite and quite priceless," Selina said, giving Dick a 
look of almost childlike delight. "It's also a one of a kind gemstone. No 
one knows the location of the mine where such a gem might have been 
discovered, although many treasure hunters have tried and failed." 

"What about the scepter?" Dick asked. "I thought I read in the 
literature that Bruce brought home that the Catseye's power was somehow 
mystically tied to the puma head." 

Selina nodded. "Yes, I believe that's part of the legend. 
Unfortunately, the scepter was made of pure gold. The Conquistadors 
probably melted it down to ingots immediately." 

Dick nodded thoughtfully and they ate in companionable silence for a 
few moments. Finally, Dick broached the question uppermost on his mind. 

"So how does Bruce fall into the picture?" Dick asked, forcing the 
issue back to his guardian. 

Selina smiled with genuine affection. 

"You're really concerned for his welfare, aren't you? Okay, I'd read an 
article about Bruce in _Forbes Magazine_. I admit to being just a touch 
fascinated by him. Not yet forty and already one of the wealthiest men in 
the world? What girl could resist? Then I read about the Wayne Foundation 
and about the real good that Bruce and the Wayne billions have done for 
the people of Gotham City." 

Selina laughed, a deep throaty laugh that a sent an involuntary 
reaction through Dick's being. Selina shook her head as if she still 
couldn't believe what she'd read. 

"Young, gorgeous, rich, *and* a philanthropist? I suppose I thought him 
too good to be true and just wanted to find out for myself." 

"And did you?" Dick asked. "Find out that he's too good to be true?" 

Selina looked at Dick seriously. "The jury's still out on that one," 
she replied, enigmatically. Selina held Dick's gaze. He felt that she was 
trying to see if she could find out more about Bruce through him. 

"Well, if you ask me," Dick offered, "Bruce is the greatest guy in the 
world. But then, I'm biased." 

Selina smiled and gathering her packets, she stood up. "I'll keep that 
in mind." 

Dick stood up, too. "He really cares for you, Selina...Keep *that* in 
mind." 

Leaning over, Selina kissed him gently on the cheek. "I will, Dick. I 
promise." 

With that, Selina walked away and was quickly swallowed by the crowd. 

*** 

Robin parked his motorcycle in the dark, filthy alleyway. The place was 
overflowing with rancid garbage, which had been carelessly dumped over the 
years. A city sanitation inspector's warning citation was posted slightly 
above Robin's eye level. The date was five years ago. 

Robin shook his head. The city's sanitation department was rife with 
graft, nepotism, and union cronyism. The DA's office had not been able to 
find enough evidence to bring indictments against anyone so far. However, 
while it was a thorn on the city's side, Batman still hadn't seen a need 
to enter the case. 

More and more, Batman was concentrating on stopping the increasing 
numbers of the criminally insane who were of the Joker's caliber, while 
less and less on "ordinary" racketeering. Unless Commissioner Gordon 
called him in on these cases, Batman felt that the GCPD was well equipped 
to handle them. 

While investigating his current Catwoman case and her tip on a black 
market trade in rare and endangered animals, Robin researched Leo Maxie 
and his many business dealings. After all, the two would-be thieves he'd 
stopped at the Gotham Zoo belonged to Maxie and were apparently working 
under *his* orders. 

In the course of his research, Robin discovered that Leo Maxie 
originally gained a foothold in the local city contracting rackets through 
his cousin, a minor official in the Sanitation Department. Since then, 
Maxie's own garbage pickup contracting business grew to become the largest 
in Gotham. 

So far the problem the city faced wasn't the loss of sanitation 
services, but rather of the smaller sub-contractors being squeezed out by 
Maxie's hired thugs. Still, any hard evidence against Maxie tended to 
disappear, usually in the form of some hapless mook washing up several 
miles to the south on the Jersey shore. 

Still others disappeared permanently. They'd probably been sent on a 
bon voyage party to the bottom of the sea replete with a new pair of 
cement overshoes, Robin thought wryly. 

He looked around the squalid alleyway and took a sniff. Grimacing at 
the foul odor, he decided that maybe *Robin* could step in and look into 
the problem. 

"Hey, if I want a part in cleaning up the city," he quipped, "I may as 
well start here." As soon as Batman returned from Europe, Robin would 
start investigating the Gotham Sanitation Department. 

For now, though, Robin was checking out a lead on his current case at 
the Gotham City loading docks. Keeping to the shadows, the Boy Wonder 
wended his way through the seedy and dilapidated seaside district. 
According to his information, the ship he was looking for should be 
berthed at Pier No. 5. Rounding another long-abandoned warehouse, Robin 
saw her. 

The _Tiger Lily_, an ancient, tramp merchant ship out of Macao. She was 
riding low in the water, indicating that her cargo hold was full. 

"Good," Robin muttered. She hadn't been off-loaded, yet. Moving 
stealthily, Robin grabbed one of the ship's tie-down ropes and began 
climbing. Reaching the ship's railing, the teen vigilante quietly made his 
way to the cargo hatch. Finding the emergency escape hatch, Robin made 
easy work of the rusty lock used to secure it. 

Feeling his way cautiously, Robin eased into the cargo hold, and 
finding a ladder, quickly lowered himself to the deck below. Taking out a 
penlight, the young crimefighter quickly looked around. What he found made 
him slightly ill. 

His presence was greeted with a sudden stirring of dozens of caged 
animals, from lions and tigers to rare, exotic birds. Robin noted several 
large elephant tusks stacked on cargo pallets, sans the elephants that 
they'd come from. Other pallets were loaded with animal pelts, mostly 
tigers, although a few lion manes showed that the King of the Beasts had 
not been spared. 

And the smell! These animals must have traveled under intolerable 
conditions. It was obvious that their cages had not been cleaned during 
the entire trip. Robin wondered if they'd even been fed. 

Shaking his head in disgust, Robin turned to go. He'd found enough 
evidence here to have Maxie locked up for a very long time. 

The sound of a machine gun bolt being pulled back suddenly echoed in 
the cavernous hold. At the same time, the floodlights flared on. 

"Well, lookee here, Mister Maxie. A little birdie just flew in." 

"Yes, Gordo, and ain't it a coincidence...I just happen to trade in 
rare and exotic birds." 

Robin looked around. He was surrounded. 

Okay, Grayson, he thought calmly. Time for Plan B! 

*** 

"Plan B," Robin snorted in self-disgust. Okay, being tied up with heavy 
chains and hanging upside down over the Bengal tigers' cage wasn't exactly 
what he had planned. But hey, there was plenty time...before dinner, he 
gulped. 

The tigers circled menacingly below him, roaring their rage and 
maddened by their hunger. 

Maxie stood over by the side. He was wearing a heavy black overcoat, an 
aquamarine cravat with a bold amethyst pin, and--Robin did a double 
take--a Homburg! Maxie wore the hat at a rakish angle, the picture of an 
old-time gangster. He took a long puff from a foul-smelling cigar. 

Probably trying to kill the choking odor from the animal cages, Robin 
thought sourly. 

"Gordo, show the little Bird-boy just how playful my kittens are." 

Gordo grinned evilly and turned to do as he was told. He reached into a 
giant- sized cooler that was sitting immediately outside the tiger cage 
and pulled out a large slab of meat. Nodding at one his men, Gordo allowed 
the other henchman to hook the meat to the end of a long metal pole. 

Robin watched, fascinated as the tigers suddenly tore into the meat in 
a wild feeding frenzy. As they feasted, the large predators roared their 
killer challenges at one another as each vied for a piece of the proffered 
meat. 

Closing his eyes against Maxie's dinner plans for him, Robin 
concentrated on his chains. Breathing slowly to calm his rapidly beating 
heart, Robin went over his training step-by-step. 

Calmly, he worked his fingers to his utility belt. Contorting his body 
with superhuman effort, Robin managed to reach the right compartment. 
Careful not to drop it, he removed the special sliver of jagged metal that 
he kept there. It was a gift from a Grayson family friend, the Great 
Carlo, the Haly Circus escape artist. 

Palming the piece of metal, Robin again worked his muscles to perform 
impossible, minute movements. As he worked, the savage growls of the 
starving tigers faded into the background. They were replaced with the 
soothing sounds of Uncle Carl's quiet encouragement... 

*** 

"Close your mind to the crowds, Dicky. It's only you and the chains 
that bind you. Break free, Dicky. You can do it. You're my best student, 
Dicky. You have the gift..." 

The deep baritone of his new mentor's commands abruptly replaced Uncle 
Carl's soft voice. 

"Robin, you won't have time to think, only react. You must be prepared. 
Once again, take it by the numbers..." 

*** 

"By the numbers..." Robin whispered. He heard a click. He was free. 
Opening his eyes, Robin looked around furtively. Maxie and his boys were 
preoccupied by the tigers' demoniac table manners. 

"Well, this is *one* guest who's not coming to dinner," Robin muttered. 
"Heads up!" he yelled. The gangsters all looked up to where Robin was 
hanging. 

Or at least, to their surprised confusion, to where he'd just been 
hanging. His empty chains and shackles hung limply. Laughing from the 
shadows, Robin taunted, "Made you loo-ook!" 

Maxie and his men immediately broke into chaotic commotion, their 
frenzied shouts and randomly wild firing inside the closed quarters 
reminiscent of the tigers' own savage behavior of just a few minutes 
before. 

"Find him!" screamed Maxie. "Find him, you morons! And when you 
do...kill him! Shoot him on sight! He's fish bait!" 

"Aww-ww, Maxie," Robin's voice filtered mockingly over the din. "And 
here I thought we'd bonded!" A whirring, whistling sound preceded the 
floodlights suddenly going out. 

"Oh, man!" one of Maxie's thugs wailed. "He's got one of them 
Bata-ma-thingies! You know, a Bat-whatchacallit!" 

"A Batarang, you dope!" another said. "Now shut up, Stevie! If he can 
hear you, he can take you out--" 

Silence. 

"Lenny?" the first voice wailed. "Lenny, where *are* you, bro?" Out of 
the dark, an ironfisted punch dislocated the two-bit hood's jaw. 

"Sorry, Stevie, but you should've listened to your brother and kept 
your mouth shut," Robin chastised. "Oh, and *this* is for leaving me 
stranded in the Tigers' lair at the zoo." 

Lenny was instantly taken out of play, just as Stevie predicted. 

"Gordo! Gordo, where are you?" Maxie's angry, frustrated voice rang out 
in the dark. "Greaser...Red Dog...Lenny! Where *is* everybody? Answer me, 
dammit!" 

"Now, now...no need for that kind of language," Robin said. "I'm still 
a kid, remember? Your men are all here, Maxie. Look!" 

Robin threw a switch, and the emergency lights came on. Maxie looked up 
and around. Hanging from the overhead cargo grapplers, Maxie saw the 
unconscious forms of the creme of his organization. 

"It's not possible," he whimpered. 

"Oh, please," Robin said self-deprecatingly. "You're embarrassing me." 
Snapping a pair of Bat-cuffs on the racketeer, Robin added, "Oh, by the 
way, Maxie, it's *you're* turn." 

*** 

When the GCPD found Maxie and his henchmen a few hours later, he was 
screaming and blubbering in near hysteria. Whoever captured and secured 
him in the cargo hold must've had a perverse sense of humor, because the 
gangster was hanging, chained and upside down, over the tigers' cage. 
Maxie's face was a mere three inches beyond the tigers' nearest reach. 

When he was finally lowered to safety, Leo Maxie was a pathetic, broken 
man. He'd even soiled his own pants. 

Gordon and Bullock looked up at the grappling hook from where they'd 
freed Maxie. "The boy went a little too far," Gordon said sternly. "I'll 
have to have a little talk with him." Looking around at the emaciated, 
starving animals, that had been forced to lie in their own filth, Gordon 
amended his statement. 

"Well, maybe I'll thank him first," he said gruffly. "*Then* I'll chew 
him out!" 

*** 

Robin waited patiently, crouched in the deep gloom afforded by the 
shadows. It was almost midnight, and if he was late getting home, Alfred 
was gonna clobber him. Oh, well, crime didn't stop at midnight, he thought 
defensively. When was the *last* time some crook turned into a pumpkin at 
the stroke of twelve? 

As he waited, Robin suddenly caught sight of a darker shadow flitting 
across the skylights. Bingo! Just in time. 

He watched slightly in awe by the daring professionalism of the 
Catwoman. She calmly extended her claws and delicately cut through the 
skylight, as easily as slicing through butter. Next, she released a 
rappelling line and quickly lowered herself to the museum floor. 

Catwoman carefully removed a small aerosol spray from her carryall. 
Turning 360 degrees, she lightly sprayed the air immediately around her. 
Robin saw that the aerosol released a light, powdered mist. Catwoman 
immediately donned a pair of night vision goggles. 

Robin followed suit with his Starlite night goggles. When he turned 
them on, he saw that the powder Catwoman sprayed revealed the complex 
array of photoelectric laser beams that comprised the major part of the 
museum's security measures. 

"Not bad," Robin intoned admiringly. Catwoman next took out a small 
case and removed a number of small disks. Not quite being able to make out 
what the these circular items were, Robin grinned in admiration when he 
saw her meticulously set them up in a complicated pattern. 

The disks were actually mirrors, and Catwoman was using them to reflect 
the laser beams back in on themselves. Soon, she'd cleared an area large 
enough for her to walk through. 

Satisfied that her path was now unobstructed, Catwoman walked towards 
the Catseye exhibition. 

"You know, if turned you all of that ingenuity towards less criminal 
pastimes, you could probably end up owning this town...honestly." 

Catwoman let out a startled feline yowl, cracking her whip in the 
direction of Robin's voice. 

"Temper, temper," he teased. 

"Little birds should know better than to play with cats," Catwoman 
warned. 

"True, but I'm not all that little any more," Robin said. He threw his 
Batarang and its razor-sharp edge sliced Catwoman's whip in two. She 
suddenly leaped high, grabbing onto one of the gem displays. 

"Oh, little Robin, you shouldn't have done that," Catwoman said, 
threateningly. "That was my favorite whip." Jumping off the display she'd 
been standing on, Catwoman used her momentum to topple the heavy case 
over, scattering hundreds of precious gems across the highly polished 
museum floor. 

"Now see what you made do," her voice mocked from out of the dark. "I 
wasn't going to cause any damage...I was only going to take the Catseye. 
But *noo-ooo* *you* have to appear and spoil my fun." 

"Sorry, lady, but I couldn't let you take a priceless museum piece like 
the Catseye. It belongs to the people of Peru, and they've entrusted it to 
the people of Gotham. Batman's entrusted Gotham to me...so, there you are. 
It falls to me to see that the Catseye is protected during its stay in the 
city." 

"Look, Robin, you seem like a nice, decent kid," Catwoman's voice said 
placatingly. "I don't want to hurt you. So why don't you be a good little 
bird and go on home? I promise that I'll only take the Catseye, nothing 
else. Look, I wasn't lying about Maxie and his black market trade with 
endangered animals, was I?" 

"No, you weren't," Robin answered. He was moving quietly among the 
various displays. "Unfortunately for you, Maxie and his boys weren't able 
to take me out. They should all be under the GCPD's authority by now." 

"Boy Wonder, you don't believe that I *wanted* Maxie to win, now do 
you?" Catwoman's voice rang with insincerity. "I sincerely wanted you to 
stop his vile operation. You don't think I let you go alone thinking that 
you couldn't handle them?" 

"Your confidence in me is making me all teary-eyed, Catwoman," Robin 
said sarcastically as he quietly took out one of his bolas. Finally 
spotting the slim figure of the feline femme fatale, Robin whirled the 
heavy instrument and let fly. Catwoman heard the bolas high-pitched whir 
as they flew towards her. 

To Robin's shock, Catwoman instantly counterattacked with a *second* 
whip. Where'd *that* come from, Robin thought surprised! Catwoman stood 
slowly and looked at the Boy Wonder menacingly. 

"That's it, little bird," she said, cracking her long whip expertly. 
"The kid gloves are off!" To demonstrate her deadly accuracy, Catwoman's 
whip lashed out at one of gem displays sitting in the middle of the floor. 
At first it looked like nothing had happened. Catwoman walked calmly up to 
it, and with her eyes on Robin, gently nudged the glass display case with 
her hand. The case broke neatly into two halves. 

"Uh-oh. Time for Plan B," Robin muttered. He instantly shot out a jump 
line and barely managed to escape the Catwoman's deadly whip. 

"Listen, Catwoman," Robin urged, once he'd landed safely. "The GCPD is 
probably on its way by now. No way you knocking over all of these display 
cases didn't set off some kind of silent alarm." As if to prove his point, 
the distinct sounds of sirens could be heard fast approaching. 

"Come on, Catwoman, give it up. You *can't escape!" 

"Sorry, kid, but the word *can't* just isn't in my vocabulary!" With 
that Catwoman cracked her whip again, this time setting off the halon fire 
extinguishers. Robin quickly donned his re-breather. The halon gas was 
deadly if inhaled. It worked by cutting off all the oxygen in a room in 
order to extinguish the flames. Because he was still wearing his Starlite 
goggles, Robin's eyes were protected against the gas; however, he had to 
exit the museum quickly. 

Needless to say, Robin lost Catwoman in the misty fog of the rapidly 
spreading gas cloud. Looking up, Robin saw that the rappelling rope that 
Catwoman lowered from the skylight was still hanging from the rooftop 
opening. Taking a running leap, Robin grabbed the rope and quickly began 
climbing up. 

The caustic gas was beginning to seep inside his goggles' seams, 
causing his eyes to water. Rapidly blinking against the growing 
irritation, Robin climbed faster. As he neared the opening, Robin thought 
he saw a shadow flitting across opening. Robin saw a hand reach inside, 
and to his dismay, five razor-sharp retractable claws suddenly appeared. 

"You call yourself, Robin," Catwoman's mocking laugh rang out. "Then 
fly, little bird, fly!" Catwoman's razor claws sliced through the heavy 
nylon rope, clipping Robin's wings. 

"Plan C--!" Robin yelped, feeling himself falling awkwardly. Keeping 
his head, he coolly took out his grappling gun and fired off a jump line. 
Catwoman gave a distinctive angry yowl and disappeared from the open 
skylight. Robin climbed through and, not taking time to get his bearings, 
took off after her. He had a feeling he knew where she was heading. 

*** 

As he took to the Gotham skyline, Robin went over in his head the 
information he'd managed to dig up over the week on Selina Kyle. Born 
thirty years ago, Selina grew up with an abusive mother and an alcoholic 
father. Not understanding the pain of her childhood, the little girl 
believed that the abuse she received at the hands of her mother was 
deserved. 

"If I could only be a good little girl," Selina later told Child 
Welfare Services. Because she received only pain at the hands of her 
mother, Selina naturally turned for affection to her alcoholic father. 

According to the CWS sealed files, Selina learned to cope with her 
family situation. From her mother she learned to not give her heart 
without expecting pain in return. And from her father she learned a 
sleight-of-hand skill that became necessary for putting food on the table. 
During her father's sporadic, sober periods, Selina also learned about the 
Cat, and about what he called 'the conspiracy of silence' in Gotham City. 

Robin discovered that 'the Cat' survived his fall into the Gotham 
River, but lost his night's haul in the process. Furthermore, his injuries 
precluded him from ever pulling any other jobs. He'd married Selina's 
mother the year before, and due in part to his early success as a burglar, 
they'd been happy. 

Then he took his crippling spill into the Gotham River, and Serena grew 
embittered over his failure and the loss of thousands of dollars, money 
that the Kyles could use. 

Disgusted by him, Serena refused any further intimate contact with her 
husband. Then one night, in a drunken rage, he forced himself on her, and 
Selina was the result. Serena hated her own child from the day of her 
daughter's conception, and made the emerald-eyed, dark-haired girl's life 
miserable from the day she was born. 

The social worker assigned to the Kyle family noted that during his 
irregular periods of sobriety, Selina's father saw to the baby's care, 
feeding her and changing her. But usually, the baby was forced to remain 
in the same filthy diapers, sometimes for several days. 

Child Welfare Services removed Selina from the Kyle household on at 
least five separate occasions, but in each case, she was returned after 
only a few days with warnings against continued neglect. 

Thankfully for Selina, Serena died when the little girl was only seven, 
a victim of Crime Alley. Just a few years before, the murder of a wealthy 
couple had taken place in almost the same spot. Selina's father found the 
situation almost ironic. 

According to caseworkers, Selina revealed that her father would 
sometimes talk about her mother's death, almost as if it were a joke. 
"Imagine," he'd say to Selina, "the Waynes were killed in almost the same 
spot as your mother. Ain't life funny?" 

Curious about her father's callous statement, Selina asked him about 
it. The caseworker files stated that Mr. Kyle suffered from paranoid 
delusions, believing that he was the victim of a vast conspiracy 
perpetrated by some of Gotham City's leading citizens and the GCPD. 

Apparently, Selina's father confided in her about the Cat and the final 
failed heist. The former cat burglar believed Officer Gordon and possibly 
the Waynes lied about the money. The GCPD reported the loot as lost along 
with The Cat. Neither was ever recovered. 

"A quarter of a mil, kitten," her father would brood. "They kept it and 
then lied about it. And your old man never got to spend one red cent." At 
this point, her father would invariably start weeping. "Not one red cent, 
kitten." 

*** 

So Selina Kyle learned the rudiments of being a pickpocket and burglary 
from her father. The almost superhuman skill she'd achieved came from her 
own desire for revenge against those she believed had wronged her father. 

Robin shook his head, sadly. "I guess she never really cared for Bruce, 
after all." 

"That's not exactly true, Boy Wonder," she replied from the shadows. 
They were standing in the skeletal remains of the Katmandu Towers. The 
building was due for demolition tomorrow morning at dawn. Robin swallowed, 
unsure of her. Selina *was* a criminal, but she wasn't really evil. And 
she *had* tipped him off about Maxie's black market operation. 

"The Wayne family kept that money and divided it with Gordon. Easy 
money...untraceable. After all, it had been stolen by a known cat burglar 
who'd taken it with him to his death. Who'd ever suspect?" 

"That's crazy, Selina," Robin protested. "The Waynes were incredibly 
wealthy already. Their net worth was in the millions. Doctor Wayne 
developed several new surgical procedures that were destined to save 
countless lives. But his pioneering procedures needed new, improved 
instrumentation. Doctor Wayne was forced to develop these new instruments 
that have since become standard surgical equipment. Don't you see...he 
*owned* the patents on these new surgical tools." Robin felt like he was 
pleading. 

"That, plus some wise investments made him a wealthy man. But first and 
foremost, Doctor Wayne was interested in helping others, not in making 
money. That's why he and his wife started the Wayne Foundation. That 
night, your father stole the donations from a charity fundraiser. That 
money was supposed to go to the Gotham City Children's hospital, but it 
disappeared along with your father. The Waynes couldn't let the sick 
children of Gotham down, so they took a quarter of a million of their 
*own* money and donated it to the hospital." 

"And how do *you* know all this, Boy Wonder? Or should I say, Dick 
Grayson? Did your guardian tell you all this? You admitted yourself that 
you think the man walks on water...'the greatest guy in the world' is how 
I believed you described him." 

"Okay," Robin admitted. He deliberately removed his mask. "No more 
lies. Yeah, I'm Dick Grayson. But if I'm Dick, then just who do you think 
is Batman? Do you think for a minute that a man who's devoted himself all 
of these years to helping others by bringing criminals to justice would 
lie about his parents?" Robin paused. 

"*Your* father was an admitted criminal, Selina. Who would *you* 
believe if you were in my shoes?" 

"*NO*!!!" Catwoman cried out in hot denial. "They *lied*! *They* took 
the money, and tried to hide the fact by trying to kill my father." 
Without warning, Catwoman lashed out with her whip. Caught off guard, 
Robin was unable to dodge its stinging tip in time. The whip curled around 
Robin's neck, and he felt it suddenly yank him off his feet. 

Robin went flying into open space, dangling helplessly by the neck from 
Catwoman's whip. Desperately grabbing the whip with both hands, Robin 
managed to raise his body high enough to relieve the choking tension 
around his neck. Reaching up, Robin angrily removed the offending coils. 

"Are you crazy?!" Robin called up. "You've never *killed* anybody, 
Selina. Are you *trying* to get Batman to come after you?" As he talked, 
Robin swung sideways until he was able to reach one of the building's 
beams. Sitting down for a second to catch his breath, Robin massaged his 
neck. *That* stung. He noticed blood on his gauntlets. His own. 

Abruptly, a lithe figure dropped down next to him. Robin quickly back 
flipped and assumed a defensive posture. 

"Take it easy, Dick," Selina said quietly. "I'm not looking for a 
fight." Dick looked at her suspiciously. "I *promise*," she said. "Look, 
I'm even putting the whip away." 

With long-practiced ease, she expertly coiled it around her left arm. 
Dick nodded reluctantly. Selina reached her hand out to his chin. 

"Here let me look at that." She gently moved his head back and forth, 
examining the ugly red welts that were quickly forming around his neck. 
There was blood seeping from several cuts. 

"Hmmmmm. Looks ugly. Here, hold on." Selina reached into her carryall 
and took out a palm-sized aerosol spray can. She gently sprayed the 
cooling mist on the boy's neck, quickly bringing temporary relief. 

"Thanks," Dick said sincerely. 

"Don't mention it," she said, putting the can away again. "Look, Dick, 
you gave me a lot to think about...again!" They smiled as they both 
recalled their earlier dinner conversation. "What if I promised to leave 
Gotham? Would that square things between us?" 

"Selina, you know I can't let you go. You robbed thousands of dollars 
in jewels and cash from Gotham's citizens. You also broke into the 
gemology museum and caused several thousands of dollars worth of damage! 
As much as I'd like to, it's my duty to see that you're brought in." 

Selina smiled tenderly. She leaned over and kissed him gently on the 
cheek. 

"I know, little Robin, but I had to ask." Before Robin could react, he 
felt a fine, cold mist being sprayed across his face. 

"No!" Dick groaned. "Not againnn..." **** 

The warning klaxons woke him up! Voices were coming over loudspeakers. 

"We repeat...if anyone is inside the condemned premises of the Katmandu 
Tower, you must vacate now! This building is due for demolition in five 
minutes and counting. Clear the building. We repeat, this building is 
about to be destroyed in...four minutes, thirty seconds...!" 

Robin sat up, dazed. He was on the roof of the Katmandu Tower. He could 
see that the sun was just beginning to peek over the horizon. The Tower 
was supposed to be demolished at dawn, he recalled confused. He had to get 
away. 

Robin attempted to regain his feet, but promptly fell back on his 
knees. Catwoman must've sprayed him with an exceptionally powerful 
sleeping agent. His head was full of cobwebs, and he was seeing double. 
Robin blinked his eyes to clear his blurred vision. 

The warnings sounded again..."Two minutes, fifteen seconds..." Robin 
had to get to safety. He started crawling to the edge of the building, 
seemingly an inch at a time. The rooftop wavered in front of him. His 
hands and arms seemed unnaturally elongated. He heard a loud thumping in 
his ears. His heartbeat, Robin realized. 

As he moved forward, Robin's vision began dancing crazily. He started 
seeing whirling bright colors as the sun's early rays began catching and 
reflecting off the rooftop. What was that, he wondered? Lovely hues the 
colors of the rainbow, a sunburst on the decaying old tower. 

Clearing his vision, Robin stared at the mirage. "It can't be," he 
whispered, blinking rapidly. Forcing himself to crawl faster, Robin came 
up on the mirage. It was still there. He reached out and touched it. It 
was real! A weather- beaten black leather bag was wedged in tightly 
between two air conditioner intake pipes. 

The bright, diffused colors that Robin's blurred vision had seen were 
the jewels that 'the Cat' stole on that night so long ago. Some had 
spilled out from a tear near the bottom. Robin quickly looked inside the 
bag, and not surprisingly found a large amount of cash. 

"I don't believe this," he whispered, awed. "I just don't believe 
this." The stolen money and jewels must've been waiting, jammed in the 
same place all these years. 

"You have forty-five seconds...!" The loudspeakers called out. 

The warnings continued, but Robin had long since shot out a jump line 
and flown to safety. Within seconds, Gotham City rocked with the carefully 
controlled implosions that brought down the decayed Katmandu Towers. As 
Robin turned to go, he caught sight of another figure in the early morning 
sun, watching the demolition of a piece of Gotham history. 

Perhaps she'd be able to sleep a little more peacefully tonight... 

*** 

Epilogue

***

Robin crept through the dark, dank tunnels that comprised the 
labyrinthine underground complex of the Gotham City sewer system. Batman 
was thankfully due back on the following night. While Robin held his end 
all week, he was really looking forward to his senior partner's return. 

"This solo stuff isn't all it's cracked up to be," he muttered. Robin 
grimaced as a rat scampered over his foot. "Tell me that didn't just 
happen," he groaned. A week of working solo had done much to erase the 
slightest veneer of romantic adventure from it. 

At the moment, Robin was on the trail of a new and dangerous villain 
who called himself 'Killer Croc.' So far the eyewitness accounts intimated 
that the name wasn't an exaggeration. 

Surrounded by dripping sewage, and a smell that rivaled the cargo hold 
on the _Tiger Lily_, Robin reflected on his performance of the previous 
week. Except for the fact that Catwoman got away (and truth be told, he 
wasn't sorry she did), Robin felt a well-deserved pride. 

Even Commissioner Gordon thanked him for a job well done. "Yeah, then 
he chewed me out for hanging Maxie over the tiger cage." Gordon warned him 
that if he ever pulled another stunt like that, Robin would be brought up 
on charges for use of excessive force. 

As for Alfred...First, for breaking curfew during a school night, and 
not returning home before dawn, the loyal assistant and surrogate 
grandfather chewed Dick out as only Alfred could with his highly polished 
turn of phrase. 

Then noticing that his young charge was suffering from several 
superficial cuts and welts to the neck and that he was also slightly 
disoriented from the sleeping agent, Alfred instantly marched Dick up to 
bed amidst his weak protests. Robin gave a rueful shake of his head. Only 
Alfred could reduce a superhero to stammering defensiveness. 

As Robin walked through the endless stream of foul-running water, he 
grinned. 

"It looks like sixteen isn't gonna be such a bad year after all--" At 
that moment, Robin was startled by the sudden appearance immediately in 
front of him of a giant, scaly, man-shaped creature. As the refugee from a 
B-horror movie leaped out of the water, the nightmarish monster bellowed 
his anger in a long, blood-curdling roar. 

"Who dares disturb Killer Croc?" 

Robin gulped, frozen in place. As Killer Croc became aware of his 
visitor, he grinned, smacking his lips. 

"Ah...looks like a tasty morsel," he said, reaching quickly for his 
unexpected snack. The monster moved with the darting swiftness of an 
attacking cobra. 

Croc's threatening move was what Robin needed to snap him out of his 
shock. He immediately leaped sideways, just escaping Killer Croc's deadly 
reach. Landing in a crouch, Robin took out his insta-net and quickly shot 
out the lightweight, Nomex triple-weave wire mesh. In a flash, it looped 
itself around the mutant man-creature. 

Stepping back, Robin inhaled a deep sigh of relief, and immediately 
choked on the foul smell. Feeling his hands shaking, Robin made a show of 
nonchalantly dusting them off. Killer Croc howled, enraged by his bonds. 
He thrashed about in the water in a wild frenzy, his bellows reaching new 
volumes. Robin watched mesmerized. Croc's wild gyrations reminded Robin a 
bit too much of the man- creature's reptilian namesake, the crocodiles. 

Robin decided that the wire mesh net needed reinforcing. He took out a 
Batline and began slowly walking towards the dangerous prisoner. Robin 
didn't take two steps before Killer Croc managed to break his bonds. 

"You're mine, little morsel!" Killer Croc screamed. "When I finish with 
you, there won't even be any bones left!" The deadly mutant began 
advancing on the Boy Wonder. 

Okay, Grayson, another fine mess you've gotten yourself into. Now what? 


Narrowing his eyes with a new determination, Robin reached for his 
utility belt. 

"Time for Plan B!" he said with a feral grin. 

The End