[[Because I love you (and I do, don't I?), I decided to give you an alternate ending. I really wanted to use this one, but then realized that there is absolutely no way to write a sequel to it. So… here you go.]]
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Alternate Epilogue: Return to Home
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1
November 3rd, 5:52 AM
Robin silently donned a baggy sweatshirt and baggier cargo pants over a pair of black jeans and a black t-shirt. He then moved soundlessly through the halls of Titan Tower, affixing his mask even as he entered the override code to the room they'd temporarily given Tim.
The door hissed open to reveal Tim standing right in front of it.
"Are you ready to go back to Gotham?"
"Yeah."
"Yes," Robin corrected him. "If you're going to accept the Wayne Enterprises Scholarship and go to Gotham City Boys' Preparatory, you'd better learn to talk like a GCBP student. You get five demerits if you say the words hey or yeah."
Tim blinked. "You're kidding, right?"
"Wrong. It's a real rule. Rules like that are why the GCBP has the thickest student handbook on the planet, and comes with annotations in a large three ring binder."
"That was the joke, right?"
"No."
"Suddenly attendance doesn't sound like such a good idea."
"Because you're on scholarship, you'll have to follow all the rules. But the handbook isn't so bad. It's just wordy— as in, they have fifty pages about the lower body. Those pages include what colors of pants you may wear, what color socks you may wear, why boxers are not acceptable underwear, a table that matches student height with pant leg length, and a phone directory of uniform providers."
"How many rules are there?
Robin shrugged. "I don't know. I'm not on scholarship."
"Stupid rich bastard…" The younger boy joked. They continued down the hall, to the living room, and then the kitchen. "So… what are the Titans going to do now?"
'I'm considering suggesting that the Titans go back to their old beats for a little while; two months at most…"
"And those that don't have home beats?"
"They can stay here, or go home with someone who does." Robin shrugged. "Look, the plane leaves at seven. Eat quickly and make sure you call your father. It's an eight hour plane trip, in total, so he should have plenty of time to get to the airport."
"Thanks," Tim said. "Really— for the scholarship, for everything you did."
"I just wish we knew the whole story behind your kidnapping."
Tim shrugged. "Technically, it wasn't a kidnapping. Slade never actually held me anywhere, not that I remember."
"He just made your life a living hell when it didn't have to be, pushing you from place to place like you were a chess piece."
"I still don't get why he did it. I mean, how could he have used me?" Tim wondered. "What use was I, except in that whole, pointless scheme with the Mayor?"
"Aside from the fact that you know my secret identity?" Robin asked.
"Yeah, but how would he know that, without him knowing it already?"
He had a good point. It just didn't seem like Slade to invest so much time on a mostly useless teenager, and then leave him alive when he ceased being an asset.
"He must have intended to use you, before you quit," Robin realized. "He must have intended to use you in the original plan, before he learned about the haunted Tower idea…"
"And when he found out, he'd just invested too much to time in me not to use me," Tim finished the thought for him. "But why did he let me live?"
Robin shrugged. "I don't know. I really don't."
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6:17 AM
The other Titans rose, one by one, and entered the kitchen, where Robin leaned against a wall finishing his bowl of Special K and Tim ate a Pop Tart.
Starfire beamed, her eyes wet. "I suppose this is the day that you return to your home, Friend Timothy?"
Tim nodded. "Yep— er, yes!"
She nodded back. "Goodbye then. You have been a most excellent friend, even if you were working for Slade and know more about Friend Robin than the rest of us Titans do."
Tim beamed back. "Thanks."
"If you need anything—" Cyborg began
"—Like a little friendly competition," interjected everybody's favorite green-skinned teen.
Cyborg shot his friend a Look. "—or anything else, for that matter, you know who to call."
"Us!" Beast Boy gave his best lopsided grin.
"I know."
Raven merely looked at the younger teen. At length, she offered him her hand. "I'm sorry," she said.
"No prob. If I were you, I wouldn't have trusted me either."
Robin noticed that she didn't smile, not exactly, but her expression came close.
"We need to head the airport," Robin said quietly. "I'll be accompanying you home, just to make sure you arrive safely and that Slade's minions don't try anything on you."
"But he's dead…"
"So? He could have left instructions for the event of his death."
Tim agreed at length, and they left for the airport on the R-Cycle.
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7:30 AM
Robin decided that he hated airplanes. Or, at least, he hated flying from Jump City to Saint Louis (and then to Metropolis, then to Gotham). Not only did it waste his father's money (why to Metropolis? Why not just straight to Gotham?), but the turbulence sucked. As he had observed on his first flight from Saint Louis to Jump City. Actually, he had observed this on his flights from anywhere to Saint Louis, and from Saint Louis to anywhere else.
Apparently, planes with him on them heading for Saint Louis had very, very bad luck.
Stupid pressure fronts or whatever, he groused.
"Bored?" Tim asked.
"No." Oh no. Not bored. He judged boredom by how many times he'd gone over The Rules in his head. And he hadn't even started reciting The Rules yet!
Going over The Rules was a good way to remember to follow them. Of course, going over The Rules also meant mocking them.
He prided himself on being able to sit still for long hours and not do anything. Stakeouts required it, but part of his developing this skill came from his adopted father's disappointment in his natural urges to fidget. He still hadn't figured out just what it was about Bruce Wayne/Batman that made him want to please the man so badly…
But even after becoming his own vigilante, he still found himself constantly struggling to improve, just for a smile. Or an off-hand comment. Or anything from the man who had become his world from the time he was eight years old.
2
8:00 AM
"Did you bring a book?" Tim muttered.
"No," Robin replied.
"Why not?"
"Plane rides are excellent opportunities for introspection."
"So? What do you have to look at inside yourself?"
"…at the things I could improve."
"Why? You're damn near perfect as it is!"
Robin looked strangely at the younger teen. The boy was staring at him, puzzled.
"You wouldn't understand," he told Tim.
"Why wouldn't I?"
"You'd have to know Batman. There's something about him…"
Tim sneered. "So you improve yourself for some guy?"
"He's not just some guy!" Robin hissed. "He… He took me in when I needed help the most! He helped me! The man wasn't my father, but he became one for me!"
"So you owe him some sort of debt or something?"
"No! I just…" Robin shook his head. "See? You don't understand. There's something in that man that makes you want to improve." The Boy Wonder sneered back. He could be cruel as well as kind, even if kind was his natural state. "And unless I vacate this post— which isn't going to happen in… oh, until Batman passes the mantle, and even if I do, you wouldn't get it— you're never going to understand!"
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10:04 AM
The plane finally touched down in Saint Lewis, and Robin and Tim stopped in the public restrooms before heading to the plane that flew to Atlanta.
In the restroom, Robin shucked off his baggy cargo pants and sweatshirt, revealing tighter black jeans and a black tank top. Over that, he slipped on a red, yellow, and green T-shirt modeled after the Robin costume, and then put a Gotham Knights baseball cap on backwards, after pushing his bangs into the cap.
He removed the mask and put in brown contacts, then stuffed the mask into his back pocket.
The effect, he decided, looked neither like Robin nor like Dick Grayson.
He liked it.
3
Metropolis
"Hey, wait right here," Robin said, slipping the mask back on, taking the ball cap off and the duct tape off his sneakers. "I've got to go check in with somebody. Promised the Bat."
"Right," Tim said even as the Boy Wonder pushed him next to a security guard, and Robin left.
He pushed through the crowd until at last he found the man he sought.
The man was tall and broad shouldered, with all-American good looks.
"Hey, Supes," Robin called softly.
"Yeah?" The man looked up, taking his glasses off.
"Tim and I are here, obviously."
"Where is he?" Superman asked.
"Can't tell you."
"Ah. Well, I'll let your mentor know you checked in on time."
"Thanks. Is he mad at me for not checking in with Wonder Woman in Saint Louis?"
Superman shrugged. "When it comes to you, he can be pretty good at hiding things, so I can't say… but he didn't seem too angry, if that helps at all."
Robin nodded, and then returned to where he'd told Tim to be.
He'd worried that someone would kidnap the boy, but no. Tim stood next to the slightly angry looking security guard.
"I need to head to the restroom," Tim told him.
Robin shrugged. "Okay, then. I'll follow you in and make sure nobody tries to kill you."
So they headed to the bathroom.
Tim looked around to make sure nobody was in there, and then faced Robin. He wore an odd expression on his face. "Robin… there's something I need to tell you…"
"Yes?"
The odd expression became a wicked smile. "Your friends are dead."
Robin felt his jaw drop. "What are you talking about? How?
"I planted six bombs in Titan Tower. They detonated about an hour ago."
"WHAT?! WHY?" The Titans were dead. The Titans were dead because he had trusted the bastard.
He should have known. He should have known, fuck it all!
"I'm Slade. I tossed Tim Drake into the Jump City Harbor with a nice pair of concrete boots eight hours before you let him join you." The wicked smile vanished. "This all ends now, Robin. I know about your mentor and I don't like it. If you won't be my apprentice, you won't play the apprentice to anyone else. I tire of toying with you."
Robin found himself literally staring down the barrel of a loaded gun. It didn't really matter. He had failed. The Titans were dead.
"Goodbye."
The gun went off.
…
…
Don't turn your back on me baby
Don't turn your back on me baby
Yes, don't turn your back on me baby
You're messin' around with your tricks
Don't turn your back on me baby
'Cause you might just break up my magic stick
—FLEETWOOD MAC, Black Magic Woman