Part Two

One year later

Of course, Bruce was dead set against it from the start. "Criminals don't take weekends off," he said. "And Tim doesn't have time for it."

And, of course, Tim didn't take the refusal well. "What do you mean, I don't have time for it?" he demanded. "It isn't like I have any kind of social life."

"I mean, you need to spend more time studying," Bruce replied. "You're failing two subjects as it is, you don't need to waste more time on video games and . . . hanging out."

"School is bogus," Tim scowled. "Besides, why do I need school anyway? I've got a career waiting for me."

"You do?"

Tim rolled his eyes, and favored Bruce with one of those looks that only teenagers can truly master, the one reserved for mentally deficient parental types. "Duh! I'm Robin, remember? And when you decide to hang up the cowl, I'm gonna be Batman."

Bruce returned the look with one of his own, the one that he usually reserved for criminals, just before he punched out their lights. "Not without an education, you aren't."

Tim had stared at Bruce for about thirty seconds before exploding.

The conversation quickly degenerated into a full scale battle of wills, which, predictably, Bruce won. Tim was sent storming off to his room. It fell to Dick to try to make peace in the family.

"Bruce, I think you ought to reconsider this."

"I thought I made it clear already," Bruce snapped. "The discussion is ended."

"I know, I know," Dick put up a placating hand. "Just hear me out, okay? Can't you do that, at least?"

Bruce paused, then nodded, once.

"Thanks." Dick was surprised, but pleased. Maybe, after all this time, Bruce was finally thinking of him as an adult. "Okay, it's just that, I think you're overlooking something here."

"Oh? And what would that be?"

"Tim is a completely different kid than I was."

"I am aware of that." Bruce turned his attention back to the computer screen in front of him.

Bruce was definitely in Full Batman Mode now, and Dick had been dismissed. If he wanted to make any headway here, without getting himself into as much trouble as Tim, he'd have to tread very carefully. Fortunately, he'd had years of practice at that. "Bruce, look, I'm just trying to do what's best for the kid."

"And I'm not?" He didn't turn from the screen.

"Come off it, Bruce. Don't pull that with me." Dick took a deep breath; he was beginning to feel his own temper rising, and fought to keep it in check. Make your point logically and without emotional interference, Bruce respected that, he'd listen, at least. "I'm not asking this because I want to interfere with the way you're raising him. You should know that."

"That's good." The voice was eerily calm, and most people would have said Bruce wasn't angry in the least; but Dick had grown up with the man, and he recognized the danger in the tone. Bruce was angry, very angry. He wasn't accustomed to having his decisions questioned, not by anyone, and definitely not by either of his Robins.

Dick moved around to lean against the console, facing Bruce even if the older man wouldn't look at him. "What I mean is this. Kids learn differently. Tim doesn't learn the same way I did, he doesn't respond to the same kind of discipline."

Bruce made a sound that might have been a laugh. "So, you're saying I'm too strict?"

"No, Bruce, not at all." He put a hand on Bruce's shoulder, and made him look up to meet his gaze. "No way. You're a great fa-" He caught himself before he said the word, and embarrassed both of them. "You know." Bruce nodded, and to Dick's relief, relaxed a bit. Good. One bomb defused. "You're doing a great job with Tim. He's changed a lot since he came here, he's not the same kid he was. He's a lot more focused, more aware."

""With his problems, it's especially important that he has a strong structured environment," Bruce said, his voice back to normal.

"Yes, he does," Dick agreed. "And it's worked wonders, I'm not denying that. But, sometimes he needs a little break from -" He paused, choosing his words carefully. He wanted to say, "He needs a break from you," but that wouldn't help matters. "It's just that, the same kinds of . . . structure that worked for me, don't necessarily work the same for him."

"Go on." Bruce was listening to him, really listening for once.

Dick was almost too shocked to speak. Well, it was now or never. "You know, Bruce, you do tend to be a bit negative."

"Negative?" Bruce was genuinely confused. "In what way?"

"He needs to be told when he's done something well, not just when he's done it wrong."

"I do -"

"No, Bruce, you don't." Dick was walking a tightrope here, and he knew it; lucky for him, he was a born acrobat. "You think you do, but every positive comment you give is always tempered with some criticism."

"There's always room for improvement," Bruce said. The Bat was creeping back into his voice.

"Yeah, and I also know you're just as tough on yourself," Dick sighed. "But Bruce, you have to understand how hard that is for a kid like Tim."

"You survived it."

"Yeah, but I didn't have the kind of problems he has. I already had a stable home before I came here, I was a year ahead in school not a year behind, and I didn't have to deal with being hyperactive." Dick shook his head. "He's got it a lot tougher than I did."

"He's a tougher kid," Bruce said.

"Yeah, he is," Dick agreed. "He's about the toughest kid I've ever met. He would have eaten me alive if I'd met him when I was his age. But being tough doesn't change the fact that he needs to be encouraged, not discouraged." He stood and crossed his arms over his chest. "He thinks he's never going to be good enough for you."

Bruce looked surprised. "That's ridiculous. I wouldn't have let him out on the street if I thought that."

"Yeah, you know that, and I know that, and Alfred and Barbara and Jim Gordon know that." Dick threw up his hands. "Hell, I expect Joker and the rest of those loons know that. But Tim doesn't. All he knows is that you never tell him he's done a good job." He dropped into the chair beside Bruce. "He thinks he's no good, Bruce."

Bruce was silent for a long time. He sat staring at the computer screen, not seeing it. After about half an eternity, he spoke. "Positive reinforcement. I'll consider it."

Dick nearly collapsed in relief. "That's a good start. What about weekends?"

Bruce looked up at him. "What does this have to do with him spending weekends with you?"

"I have a different, uh, style than you do," Dick replied. "I relate to him differently than you do."

"You mean, you let him get away with things." Bruce nearly smiled.

"Sometimes, yeah," Dick grinned back. "But only the unimportant stuff. You know, Zesti Cola, donuts, the occasional R movie."

"You know I don't approve of donuts."

Dick sighed in relief. Bruce made a joke, that was a sure sign that the anger was gone. Now, maybe they could talk. "Okay, seriously. I know you. We both know you probably aren't going to change too much."

"You're right."

"Well, that's a first." Dick grinned again. "To be honest, I don't think I'd want you to change. I think it's one of the signs of the end times."

"Very funny." Bruce almost smiled a bit more. "What do you suggest?"

"Well, to begin with, you let him train with me. That's where the weekends come in." He leaned forward, elbows on his knees. "Like I said, I can relate to him on a different level than you. We're closer in age, for one thing."

"True enough. Sometimes, I think," Bruce paused, and Dick realized that he was embarrassed. "Sometimes, I think his . . . preconceptions about me interfere with his concentration."

"Huh?" Dick was confused for a moment. "Oh, yeah. The Hero thing." He smiled. "As the saying goes, been there, done that. I think I could deal with that a bit better than you."

"So I've noticed," Bruce said wryly. "You two seem to get along well."

It was true. They'd clicked almost from the start, the former Boy Wonder and the New Robin. Despite the occasional hero-worship, Dick genuinely enjoyed his company; Tim was a bright kid, with a keen, if cynical, intelligence and a wicked wit that rivaled Dick's. They listened to the same music, enjoyed the same movies, and generally had a lot more in common with each other than either of them did with Bruce. But, there was also a more serious side to Tim, a maturity borne of being left on his own at such an early age, that gave him insight beyond the ken of most thirteen-year-olds. Dick could talk to him, really talk, and Tim not only listened, he understood. "I like him a lot, Bruce. He's a good kid."

"It would give you better rapport, working together I mean."

Dick wasn't sure if Bruce was trying to convince him or himself. Either way, he was going to press his advantage. "Exactly. And besides, I have a lot of stuff I could teach him that you've never learned. You've said it yourself, you didn't teach me a lot of these moves, right?"

"I hadn't considered that," Bruce mused. "It would give him a broader range. What about the school work?"

"Bruce, I did graduate with highest honors, you know." Even if you didn't show up, he added silently. No point in opening that old wound just now, not while he was winning. "I think I may be able to help him with that, too."

"God knows someone needs to help him," Bruce sighed. "I obviously don't know how to do it." He stood, and stretched, rolling his left shoulder to get out a kink. "He isn't lazy, it isn't that. I've seen him work for hours to perfect one move." There was pride in his voice, paternal pride that Tim was, at least in this way, following his example. "But I can't make him understand the importance of education."

"School is hard for him. He's not good at it, and he gets discouraged very easily." Dick raised an eyebrow. "You know, most people hit a brick wall long enough, they tend to give up."

"It isn't just that," Bruce said, switching off the computer and tidying things up on the desk. "He grew up in an environment that eschews education. A completely different world."

"Yeah," Dick agreed, following Bruce up the long stairway that led from the Batcave to the Manor. "I can't see Shifty Drake extolling the virtues of learning for its own sake."

"Steven Drake," Bruce said, emphasizing the first name. "The man may have been a criminal, but he died trying to save lives. And he was Tim's father."

"Sorry." Dick meant it.

"But you're right," Bruce agreed. They stepped through the doorway and shut the clock behind them. "It's a new concept for Tim."

"So?" Dick followed him through the house and into the kitchen. He could have predicted the destination. It was like a ritual; whether coming back from patrol, or just coming upstairs after working on research on the Bat computer, Bruce's first stop was always the kitchen. "What's the verdict on the weekends?"

Bruce waited until he'd poured himself a cup of coffee before answering. "We'll try it. Probationary period, two weekends a month, for the next two months. If the grades improve, I'll consider it on a more permanent basis."

Dick grabbed an apple for himself. "I can guarantee it, Bruce," he said around a mouthful. "Trust me."

"I always have, Chum."
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Part 3

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