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--!"

Continued...

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