Robin: Beginnings - Chapter Fifteen

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

I Take an Oath 

Bruce Wayne is Batman. I’ve been living with Batman. He’s taken me in, kept me safe, and worked on finding Zucco. Everything makes sense— Batman showing up that rainy night, saving me from the mugger, telling me to wait. 

Bruce never being around, staying up late, sleeping in late. Alfred training me, holding me to high expectations. Everything suddenly clicks. How didn't I see it before? How did I not hear Bruce when Batman spoke? How did I not see Batman in the steely gray of Bruce Wayne’s eyes? It’s so obvious now why Bruce is so different in public. No one can know he’s Batman, so he’s someone that people wouldn’t think would be Batman. 

I want to smack myself. It was all there, staring me right in the face, no, slapping me across the face, waving flags, shooting off fireworks. Bruce might as well have had a sign over his head flashing ‘I’m Batman.’ How didn’t I see it? 

“All this time….” I hug myself, suddenly feeling so small, so insignificant before this man, this myth… this legend. He seems like a giant, so larger than life that I'm a tiny little mouse, shivering under his shadow. “It’s been you all this time.”

“Come on, Dick,” Batman speaks, but all I hear, even through the growl, is Bruce. Bruce, who has been here all this time. Bruce, the man I smacked in the face with a folder that I told I hated him. “We can talk in the car.”

The car? The car? No stinkn’ way! “You mean the Batmobile?” I want to jump up and down, but I also want to hide, run away, and get out of his shadow. I told Bruce—Batman—that I hated him. I hit him, I smacked him! And I still haven’t apologized. How does a Batman ground his ward? I don’t want to go to Juvie.

“Yes. The Batmobile.” Batman holds out an arm to me, his gauntlets riddled with weapons and curved fin spikes, yet they seem like the most comforting things in the world. He’s not angry. He’s not chewing me out. He’s holding out a hand, taking me somewhere safe. Just like he did when he took me from the Home. But… what about what he said? Does he still not have time for me? Do I have to stay locked in the Manor? How will things change between us?

“My bike.” I almost forgot about the motorcycle I took from the garage, but now it hits me. I left it behind a dumpster. I left Batman's motorcycle behind a dumpster. Oh, I am so, so grounded! 

“I already have it.” That’s all I get. Well, I really do have a stalker, don’t I? I don’t know how to feel about this. What would you think if you found out Batman was stalking you? 

So I take Batman’s hand, Bruce’s hand, and let him pull me in tight, my arms holding onto his strong neck as he jumps off the building, gliding to the ground. He doesn’t put me down as we walk towards a sleek, muscle car parked along the curb. Maybe he’s afraid I’ll run away again, but you tell me. Would you run away after someone told you you could have a ride in the Batmobile?

The thing is a work of art. Sleek, black, and shiny. But it could also be a tank from the sturdy tires and build. Sleek, yes, but durable. Fast, but able to punch through walls. He has this car, and he still buys other cars? What does he do, take all the best parts and use them to upgrade the Batmobile? Speaking of which, did Bruce build it, or did someone else?

Who else knows?

Batman clicks something on his utility belt, and the doors pop open. I don’t know who else he takes for rides in this thing, but it’s equipped with a passenger’s seat, the leather calling me. I couldn't resist, even if I wasn’t given permission. The thing’s just too beautiful. I jump inside, sliding into the seat and strap myself in, the belt more like the restraining harness on a roller coaster than anything else. 

A few seconds later, we’re speeding through Gotham, the lights whizzing past. Does he have a license for this thing? Can Batman get pulled over? How fast can this thing go? And, most importantly, can I drive?

“Why didn’t you tell me?” I don’t know how else to start the talk. What was I supposed to say? What was I supposed to ask? What do you say to Batman when he reveals he’s been the billionaire who’s helped you with your homework?

Batman, no, Bruce pulls off his cowl, his coal-black hair mused. Now his bedhead makes more sense. You’d think it’d be weird to see Batman with his cowl off, but honestly, it’s even more strange to see Bruce in the Batsuit. Batman without his cowl is still Batman, but for some reason, he’s even more intimidating. Maybe it’s his perfect features, but I think it’s the eyes. White film over eye holes in a mask is scary, but steely gray eyes glaring at you over bulked-up armor, broad muscled shoulders, and biceps the size of my head? Yeah… you tell me which is scarier. 

“It’s supposed to be a secret.” Bruce’s lips are drawn thin, his brows furrowed. Is he angry with me? Probably. But then— “Though I suppose you were going to find out eventually.”

“Well, who else knows?” What? I'm curious! If you found out that your guardian was Batman, wouldn't you be curious about who else knows?

“Alfred, Dr. Thompkins, and Lucius Fox.” Batman— Bruce— doesn't change his expression, leaving me to puzzle. Not about Alfred; that’s a total given. I mean, the guy raised Bruce. But why Dr. Thompkins? Wasn't she the woman who cared for me after I was shot? Oh… That might be why. But who’s Lucius Fox? And why not Vicki? Oh, no, scratch that. She’s a photojournalist. Then again, she must be a really bad one if she’s been around Bruce all this time and still hasn’t figured it out. 

We zip towards a wall. I want to yell and tell Bruce to watch out, but instead, the wall slides aside for us, leaving us to zoom into a long, dark tunnel, the fake wall closing behind us. So, this is how he gets around Gotham so fast. No traffic, no lights, no bother. Just a system of tunnels. Genius. 

I want to ask about Mr. Fox, who he is, and why he knows, but move on to the more relevant subject. “It would’ve been easier….” I want to apologize, but even still, can't I give him a hard time? Can't I be a little angry at him? “If you’d told me.”

“I didn’t want you to be a part of this world, Dick.” Bruce sighs. He’s tired. So tired, with the bags under his eyes. Only now do I realize how pale he is, how focused he is all the time. I should’ve known. I should’ve pieced it all together. He does so much. But… does that make me selfish, wanting him around? “I wanted to keep you safe.” 

That touches me in a place I’ve been trying to ignore. That parent-sized hole in my heart fills in a little, Bruce’s words bringing a warm, fuzzy feeling like he just wrapped me in a blanket. Maybe I am selfish. He’s been protecting me all this time, looking out for me, watching my back. And what’ve I done? Complained, smacked him in the face, and told him I hated him. Though… in my defense, he didn’t tell me. How valid is his excuse? You tell me. 

Even still, now I know. I know why he does this. I know why Bruce is Batman. Once you actually know Bruce, and about the other side of him, it’s not rocket science. His parents were shot dead in an alley. He couldn't do anything; he was just a kid. He’s like me. 

He wants everyone else he cares about to be safe. He just has a rotten way of showing it, I guess.

“But… I wasn’t safe anyway.” I point out. Oh yeah, so helpful, Dick. Way to point out the fact that you snuck out of the house. Might’s well just go to your room and lock yourself in. Then again, it’s true. I’m not safe. I’m not going to be staying safe. There's no stopping me. “I’m going to keep looking, whether you—”

“Stop right there.” Bruce eyes me, a smile twitching at the corners of his mouth. Oh boy, Batman smiling? I think my brain just exploded. Then again, Bruce does smile, so… who is the real him, I wonder? “I didn't let you sneak out of the Manor just because.”

So, he knew. He’d watched me sneak out. He’d trailed me the entire way here. What a stalker. Still, he could've stopped me any time. But he didn't. Because he knew that Alfred had been training me. He wanted to see what I was made of. Well, I’m glad I haven’t been making a total fool of myself. 

So, he ‘wanted’ to keep me safe. He ‘wanted’ to keep me out of it. But what does he ‘want’ now? An idea forms. It's stupid, I know. Some little kid’s fantasy. At first, I’m afraid he’ll laugh at me, but then I think, I'm already in so much trouble, why not?

“You were watching me this whole time.” I finally say, trying to read his expression. I’m not as good at it as he is. Not yet, at least. Right now, as far as I can tell, he looks thoughtful, aware, and waiting for the penny to drop. “You knew that I’d go after Zucco.” I don't get a spoken answer. I just get a nod. So I keep going. “So you followed me, tested me, because….” 

The answer is too good to be true. It can't be real. This can't be real. Now, you might be thinking, what's the big deal? He was following you like a creep; shouldn't you be mad? But here's the awesome truth. 

“If Bruce is never around….” Bruce’s smiling now, his eyes softening just enough for me to keep going. I can say hello to freedom because “Batman can be around, right? Batman can teach me— because if Bruce Wayne can’t have a kid—”

“Batman can have a partner.” Bruce looks right at me, still stern but smiling. “I wanted you to have a normal childhood. But you’re going out on those streets, facing Zucco whether you're ready for it or not. I need to make you ready. And I need to give you what I never had. Closure.”

I try to keep my heart from launching out of my chest. I try to keep my voice from squeaking. This day really did just do a complete one-eighty. I want to scream, bounce up and down in my seat, and press every cool-looking button and lever on the dash. 

But Bruce still looks at me with that thoughtful but steely gaze, so I sit quietly, my hands trembling. “But this world— it's dangerous.” Bruce doesn't slow down, even as we speed through the tunnel, the blue lights blurring overhead. “I don’t need to tell you that the people here in Gotham don’t care if you're a kid. They will kill you.”

Yeah, well, no, duh. “I know.” I drum my fingers on my thighs, blinking at the flashing lights, ignoring the look Bruce is giving me. I can’t meet his gaze. It’s too intense. 

“You don’t know.” Bruce’s voice is so hard, so demanding, that I turn to him anyway, meeting what I am now dubbing his ‘bat-glare.’ “You haven’t even seen what those people are capable of. You want Zucco, but I need to be sure you want to keep going after that.”

He means people like the Joker, Two Face, Poison Ivy, and Bane. People that Batman faces every other night. After Zucco gets what he deserves, would I want to go out every night, facing crazies like them? Would I want to fight crime with Batman, staying at his side? Is that even a question? I can see myself now, caped and masked, leaping into action. 

But more than that, I think of the woman in that alleyway I saved. And my parents, falling to their deaths. That wouldn’t have happened if I had done something. If I had told them about seeing Zucco sneaking out of that tent. It’s not guilt that drives me towards what Batman offers. It’s not excitement or adrenaline, though those pump through my blood like crazy. 

No, it’s not about the thrill. It’s about keeping them safe. Doing what Mom and Dad and Uncle Rick would’ve wanted. Living and helping others live too. Fighting the bad guys, so kids like me don’t have to look over their shoulders when they walk down the street. Fighting bad guys, so they don't have to go through what I went through. It’s super cheesy, I know. And if I say it out loud, I’ll never live it down. But I’ve made up my mind. 

I’m going to be Batman’s partner. Just you watch me. 

“I’m sure.” I settle back in my seat, finally smiling up at him. Then I remember something. So I say: “And I’m sorry, Bruce. For what I said. I don’t hate you. I never did. I was just—”

“I know.” That’s all I get. I should be used to it by now because this guy’s the Batman. More than that, he’s Bruce Wayne. Alfred told me the more I got to know him, the more I’d understand. But here’s the thing: when you find out a guy has not one, not two, but three different personalities, you know, the Bruce Wayne the public sees, the Bruce Wayne I got to know, and Batman, well, the more I learn about him, the more he confuses me. Who is he, really? But I guess that’s the whole point. 

“Alright, then.” Bruce slams on the brakes, and we slide to a stop. I can’t see where we are, not yet. Bruce holds my attention, leaning over, his hand resting on my arm. It’s gloved, cold, but it’s real. It’s here. And that’s enough for me. At least for now. “But there are conditions.”

Of course, there are. It makes sense. “Okay… shoot. What do I have to do?”

“You have to train a hundred times harder than before.” Bruce is so severe, so somber, that I can’t protest or laugh in his face. No way, more than I already am? Is that even possible? I’m only twelve! “Alfred’s trained you well, but not well enough. You need to be perfect, Dick. You can’t make mistakes.” 

Well, no pressure, then, huh? And I thought Alfred was bad! “Okay, Bruce. When—”

Bruce holds up a hand. I shut my mouth. There’s more? “You will train with Alfred in the morning. You will go to school—” I want to cheer, but I bite my tongue hard with the look that Bruce is giving me. Oh ho, I didn’t know him at all. Then again, I did see this side of him… sometimes, “And come home and keep studying. After that, you train with me.” A simple phrase. But it means so much more. Batman is the best. And if he wants me to be perfect— “You will train until you can beat me in a fight. Until then, when I am on missions, you will run, look out, and backup from here.”

I might as well be stone. I go cold, my mouth hanging open. Oh, I’m never getting out onto the streets! Or at least not until I’m in my forties! Beat him? In a fight? Is he crazy? I’ll never be able to beat him. “Bruce, I can’t do that.” I try to keep the whine out of my voice. If I’m going to be his partner, I can’t be a little kid. I have to be better. But I can’t help myself either. “I can’t beat you! You’re the best!”

It’s true. Ask anyone. Well, okay, maybe not a Superman fan, but anyone else will say that Batman is the best. Maybe that’s it. He wants me to be perfect because he’s perfect. 

Batman doesn't make mistakes. 

“You can, and you will.” Bruce doesn’t deny that he’s the best, note, but his determined look wears off on me. “If you want to survive this cesspool, if I’m going to let a twelve-year-old kid out into the Gotham streets, you need to prove that you’re ready.”

“But Bruce!”

I shut up when Bruce gives me that ‘look’ again. Did you know that there’re different levels of the ‘bat-glare?’ Well, there are, and this one cooks me to medium rare. “There’s no room for mistakes. No room for distractions or uncertainty. Out there?” Bruce points behind us, back to Gotham. Back to where I’ve almost died already, multiple times. “Out there is a place without mercy. Without hope. A place of insanity and filth. You—” Bruce points right at me. My heart stops in my chest. I shut my mouth, “Need to be physically, mentally, and emotionally prepared to go out there, do you understand me?”

“Yes, B.” I don’t know why I use a nickname, but what should I call him? Batman? Bruce? At least both start with ‘B’s, right?

He doesn’t acknowledge the nickname. Instead, he pops the doors to the Batmobile open. “Good. Come on.”

He leaps out, flipping onto the ground into a flawless landing, automatically walking off towards something with quick, purposeful strides. And I thought Alfred moved fast. I stay behind him, leaping out of the Batmobile, but I don't run forward. I gawk. I gawk at the massive cave Bruce drove us into. There’s a flat circle where the Batmobile parks, but beyond that is a museum. I mean a seriously huge museum of anything from villain costumes to a giant ten-foot-something penny to a model T. rex. It’s the best evidence archive I’ve seen… and will probably ever see. 

On the other side is the training grounds. Targets are lined up along the walls, drones ready to activate and be shot at. But not by guns, oh no. Beside it sits an entire rack of batarangs. A large fighting arena fills up a lot of the training space, and robots from human-sized to giant-sized stand ready. I resist the urge to dash all around and touch everything. I mean, there aren’t any signs saying I can’t, and the stuff’s so cool, but I can already feel the bat-glare boring into my brain, so I keep my hands to myself. 

Below us, a tiny cove filled with dark water laps a dock teaming with watercraft, a massive closed-off tunnel probably leading out to the cliffs, ready and waiting.

I watch Bruce zip up to the next level of the cave, using a firehouse pole but going up instead of down. My mouth drops open as I turn around and around. The cave looks like an actual cave, carved out of the rock with stalactites hanging from the ceiling, the upper level, no, the whole thing, supported by massive metal beams. 

Things fly screaming overhead, and I know it should be obvious, but I still jump when they zip past the blue-tinted lights. Bats. Hundreds and hundreds of bats. Okay, so who thought that was a good idea? I mean, it’s cool, but still. Bats?

“Gosh, B.” I stumble forward, trying to take it in all at once. “What do you call this place? The Bat Lair? Bruce’s Man Cave? Hideout à la Bat?”

“Dick,” Bruce peers over the upper level, looking so cool in his suit framed by the blue lights, that I want to take a picture to show Babs. Instead, I try to keep my heart from exploding out of my chest and bouncing on my toes, “Welcome to the Batcave.”

The Batcave. My new favorite place in the whole world. I want to start climbing up the beams, flipping from the hanging rocks. Instead, I grab onto the pole. When my fingers touch, the metal buzzes like someone’s stuck bees under my hand. I quickly grab on with both hands as I'm pulled up and launched onto the second level. Whoever thought of that’s a genius. 

I land in a solid stance, which is good because Bruce is watching. The upper level isn't as packed as the lower level. Up here, there’s a wall of glass cases, each holding a different version of the Batsuit. A plane that looks like it could be out of a sci-fi film waits in front of a blocked-off tunnel, sleek and black like the Batmobile. 

In the center of it all is a computer. And when I say computer, I don't mean a measly little desktop with a single screen and keyboard. I mean an entire wall of giant, TV-size monitors, several smaller ones closer to the desk, and several massive keyboards. Each computer has its own purpose. Right now, Bruce is sitting down in front of a set that’s filled with maps of Gotham and Zucco’s file. 

Next to the Bat computer is the analyzing station. Microscopes, scanners, test tubes, you name it, it's there. Okay, not really, but also literally. There’s even an examination table, medical supplies, and everything a patient would need. That makes sense. How often has B almost died?

To the side of the analyzing station, a capsule stands against the wall. At first, I think it’s another cool way to get down to the second level until it lets out a small ding like an elevato,r and the doors slide open to reveal Alfred carrying a tray of tea and weird biscuit things. Okay, so maybe if it looks like an elevator and sounds like an elevator, it’s an elevator. 

Alfred’s eyebrows raise as he looks me over, taking in my ‘street ninja’ attire. I wonder what he thinks about me sneaking out and taking a motorcycle. I wonder if he even knew. “Master Dick. At last.” Not exactly what I expected, but it does form a grin. Alfred’s been rooting for me the entire time. You’d almost think he planned this.

“Alfred.” Bruce slides back from the computer, his face hardening. “I suppose you knew this would happen?”

“I could not have orchestrated it better myself, Sir.” Okay, maybe he didn’t plan everything. Alfred strides forward and offers Bruce tea, which he takes. Huh, I didn’t know he liked tea. “It was only right that he sees who Bruce Wayne really is.”

Is it just me, or does Bruce smile into his steaming cup, rolling his eyes at our butler? “Well, it worked. He’s here.” Bruce pulls a sheet of paper off the desk and hands it to Alfred. “His new schedule and training regimen. I want you to add Ballet.”

“What?” I can’t help myself. What? Nothing can be perfect! No matter how fantastic something seems, there’s always something. Like dancing in a tutu. “I’m not wearing a skirt!”

Bruce laughs. Actually laughs. He sets the tea down on the desk and stands, looming over Alfred and me. Wow, I never really knew how much of a presence Bruce has. In and out of his Batsuit. He puts his hand on my shoulder, squeezing it. “You’re an acrobat, Chum. You’re used to wearing a leotard.”

“A pink, fluffy tutu—” I start, pursing my lips, “Is not the same, B. Though, if you do it, I’ll do it.”

“There will be no skirts for you, Master Dick,” Alfred says, folding the new schedule neatly and setting it on the silver tray. “Male ballet does not require it. Nor do I require leotards. Leggings will do.”

Thank goodness. Even still, ballet? Wouldn’t focusing more on fighting be better? I mean, if Bruce wants me to beat him… 

“Oh, and Alfred?” Bruce catches Alfred just before he enters back into the… um, what to call it? Would it be the bat elevator? The cave elevator? The Bat-la-vator? Where does it lead anyway? It doesn’t matter right now, though, because Bruce leans close to Alfred, his voice lowering to a whisper. If Alfred hadn’t started training me, I would’ve never heard it. Bruce says what I’ve wanted to say to Alfred for a long time. Well, I do say it. And I’ll keep saying it. “Thank you for taking care of him.”

Alfred steps back into the elevator, smiling. Oh yeah, actually smiling. I think someone broke him because I never thought his face could twist that way. This night is so full of surprises. I’m half waiting to wake up and realize this was a dream. A good dream for once, but that would still suck. “Of course, Master Bruce. It was, and is, my pleasure.”

Then, he’s gone, leaving us standing, watching the elevator take the one person we would fall apart without. I wouldn't’ve given Bruce a chance if it wasn’t for Alfred, well, at least not much of a chance. And Alfred’s the only reason Bruce came around. 

If you think about it, Alfred really did force us together in the end. He should get a raise. How does that work? “So…” I bite back a yawn as I turn back to Bruce. It’s way, way past my bedtime. If tomorrow weren’t Sunday, I’d be in so much trouble. Try snoring right through Mr. Lawrence’s lecture, “What now?”

“Now, you take an oath.” Bruce motions for me to follow him. As I skip to keep up with his long, deliberate strides, I can’t help but wonder. What kind of oath? He already asked me if I would continue fighting even after Zucco’s gone. What’s he going to make me promise? That I won’t stay up until one o’clock until I’m thirty years old? That I’ll always brush my teeth or pick up my stuff in the Batcave?

Okay, so definitely not those, but I can’t help but wonder. Raya and I always made pinky promises when we were younger, but mostly, I avoid promises. I want to keep them, but I can’t stand disappointing people when I mess up. 

Bruce leads me into a dark, side room off the Batcave. It’s full of news articles, framed or nailed into the wall, fluttering in the breeze swept up by Bruce’s heavy cape. The room’s lit by blue floor lights, casting the glow on the glass, sending it glinting and sparkling. 

I squint at the nearest article. “Batman Saves Commissioner Gordon’s Daughter from Mad Man,” the next one reads, “Two Face of Terror, One Face of Justice.” My mouth opens. Maybe it hits the floor, maybe not. I can’t tell. I’m too busy gawking at all the new articles about Batman. About Batman saving people. Being a hero. 

The media has no idea. No idea. Neither did I. Bruce Wayne, billionaire, arrogant, selfish, always with two ladies on his arm. Bruce Wayne, the jerk, Bruce Wayne, the showboat. That’s what they see. What they don’t see, and what I didn’t see, is why that act is so important. Why does he play it up for them? Because Bruce Wayne is the most selfless, heroic person I’ve ever met in my life. Why? Because he’s Batman. Batman is the wall, the guard between the innocent and the criminal. Batman is the reason everyone in this city can sleep safely at night. 

“This is what I do.” Batman stares at one of the articles, blocking it from view. His voice echoes in the chamber, his broad shoulders and cape outlined in the lights. “This is what you are going to do, Dick.”

He turns to me, larger than life, against all his accomplishments. “Are you ready?”

Am I ready? Can I do this? Can I live up to… to that? No, no, I can’t. But I will. I will, and I promise myself. I promise myself that I’m going to avenge my parents. I promise to end the evil in this city that took their lives. I’ll avenge my parents by giving Zucco what he deserves… and by spending the rest of my life in this war. Because it is a war. A battle between the heroes and the criminals. A fight between those who protect and those who do harm.

Laugh at me, why don’t you? Think I’m crazy, or dramatic, or rash. I don’t care. This is my promise to them. This is what I’ve always wanted. 

Only, I’m not alone. Not anymore.

I promise myself, even before Bruce pulls out the Book, you know the one, and holds it out to me, lifting up his right hand. I promise myself, even before I put my hand on the Book, raising my right hand. The lights flicker like candles, and it may be a trick of my eyes, but the cold blue light somehow warms, filling the room with certainty. 

Bruce starts the oath, and I stare into his eyes. Those cold, steely eyes look at me with determination, and something that I know is what I haven’t seen since Dad and I practiced our routine together the night before the accident. 

Pride. 

“—And swear that we two will fight together against crime and corruption and never swerve from the path of righteousness.” Bruce finishes. Only now do I realize that this is not just my oath. This is our oath as a team. He’s not just holding me to this. I am holding him to it, too. 

So I say. “I swear it!” Because I know that, for once, this is a promise I’ll never break. I won’t, because this is my promise to myself…

And to them. 

To be Continued...