Staring at the sleeping boy, Bruce Wayne finds that he cannot leave the room. It has been weeks since that night. The night when Robin disappeared and he killed someone. Directly after leaving the warehouse, Batman brought Robin to Doctor Leslie Thompson, a friend of the family.

The rest of the night and early morning was spent at her clinic where she pieced Robin's body back together. By the time Robin had left the clinic, he had more stitches in him than she had ever placed in another human being before.

Upon getting Robin home, out of what was left of his costume, and settled into his bed, Batman placed a call to Commissioner Gordan. Leaving an anonymous message, telling the police where they could find the body of the child killer.

The nights since Robin had been so badly injured were filled, not with swinging through the streets of Gotham, but calming a frightened boy. Each night was filled with nightmares to which Bruce would have to help Dick through. This night had only been one more nightmare in a string of them.

I almost lost him, thinks Bruce, staring down at the sleeping child. I almost lost my son.

Closing his eyes, Bruce relives the moments when he first entered the building and saw what that killer had done to Dick. Opening his eyes, Bruce walks toward the door to Dick's bedroom. Glancing back once more at the boy, Bruce sighs.

With Dick's knee, he will never walk the same again. Though I was able to save Dick's life, Holdsworth did take one more victim with him before he died.

Opening the door to the bedroom, Bruce takes one more look before exiting the room. As he shuts the door, one last thought crosses his mind.

Robin is dead, never to fly again.



AUTHOR'S NOTE: I wrote this story many years ago, but recently I decided to take it out and rework some areas. I hope you guys enjoyed reading it, even if the ending is a bit sucky. Don't forget to tell me what you guys thought of it. Later!