(Sorry for the wait... I've been busy/sick.)

Ring, Ring, Ring.

"Hello? Wayne Manor."

"Alfred? It's Dick. Is Bruce in?" I knew that I sounded agitated, that Alfred deserved courtesy symmetrical to his own. But, dammit, I was pissed!

"Yes, Master Dick, he is here. Shall I fetch him for you?"

"No. Just tell him that I'll be stopping by the Bat-Cave tomorrow night."

"Yes, sir."

Click.

I set down the phone, nearly shaking with anger. I walked to my bedroom-our bedroom- and lay down, my arm slung over my eyes. Minutes later, I felt the mattress sag as Kori sat down next to me.

The bed shifted a bit as Bruce sat down on the duvet. My arm was in so much pain that he'd procured a generous amount of morphine for me after Alfred's hasty surgery. How, I had no idea. He began to speak to me, the words rolling off my ears. That voice was so...

"...No longer going to need a Robin."

Wait, what?

"Wha, Bruce?" I felt woozy.

"Dick, don't make this any harder than it has to be." My mouth gaped open.

"You're...firing me?" The words sounded disconnected from reality.

I peeked out from under my elbow. Kori situated an orange hand on my knee, rubbing it gently.

Bruce laid a hand on my knee through the blanket, stroking it with fatherly affection.

"I'm so sorry."

"Bullshit, Bruce. Get your hand off me." He drew away.

"Don't touch me, Kori."

She 'hmph'ed.

"Dick, I was just trying to help..."

"Get out."

"But I-"

"Out." She left, for once not asking six thousand questions. I stared at the crack in my ceiling. The small line blurred in and out of vision.

Alfred's face blurred in and out of vision. I wiped a tear away with the heel of my palm and, with resolve, shook his hand. Then, picking up my bags, I walked out of Wayne Manor. I was halfway down the walk when I realized that Bruce was following me. I spun around violently.

"What the hell do you want?" He grabbed my shoulders, and for half a second I imagined that he would take it all back, that I wouldn't have to leave, and that I could keep being Robin.

Instead, he spoke coldly to me, as if I was twelve again, in trouble for sneaking out of fourth period for the hundredth time.

"Be careful." I gave up trying to hold in my teardrops. Burying my head in his chest, I sobbed, dropping my bags. He caressed my back with his fingers, holding me tightly.

"Dick, you don't have to leave." I looked up into his deep brown eyes.

"Bruce, I'm leaving. You're not going to tell me otherwise." A sniff emitted from me and I shook him off, walking away without my bags. I was just getting into the taxi when he knocked on the drivers window, telling him to pop the trunk. He loaded my suitcases for me, afterwards coming around to my window. I rolled it down.

"Dick, I-" I didn't let him finish. I wormed a folded five-dollar-bill into the hand that clenched the side of my door and began to roll up the window.

"Goodbye, Bruce."