Author's Note: This is the end of this story. Hope you enjoyed it. Please read and review if you feel it merits it.

Endgame Part 2

We carry out first-aid on the fourteen guys Harv left to die. Two of them are dead from gunshot wounds inflicted by their fellow morons during the confusion, one of them is gut shot and will be dead within the hour and four of them have been grazed by two or more stray rounds. All of them, alive or dead, have flash burns from the fireball to go with the third-degree burns to various parts of their anatomy. In short, it's a mess. We do what we can while Bruce calls it in on the transmitter built into his cowl. Ambulances and fire crews are twenty minutes out at the very least. Some of these guys are going to get worse before they get here, too bad huh? Dogs units are inbound too, plus a few search teams to comb through the woods. I use my thermal binoculars to check if I can see Lumpy shuffling through the woods, but with the hangar still blazing away, I only succeed in nearly blinding myself.

"Robin?" Bruce asks as he finishes restraining the last of our unwanted patients. I sigh before turning to face him.

"What?"

"May I check you for injuries?"

"Now? He's still out there: we should wait until he's under lock and key."

"Assistance will not arrive for another fifteen minutes. I think we can allow for a brief inspection." He says before leading me away from prying eyes and into the shadow of the adjacent hangar. He gets his micro torch out and motions for me to remove my mask. I take it off and fold my arms. He starts by shining the light right in my eyes to really piss me off.

"No signs of trauma." He decides after repeatedly flashing the light in both my eyes.

"I could've told you that." I tell him smacking the light away from my face. He brings it back and focuses on my scalp.

"No lacerations or reopening of wounds."

"I only got popped twice. It wasn't exactly the Saint Valentine's Day Massacre."

"Those two blows had sufficient force to fracture your skull." He explains now inspecting my nose. I scoff.

"My skull hasn't been fractured for years. You're acting worse than Al."

"You have taken a severe amount of punishment over the last four months. While your endurance is to be commended, you are far from invincible and still far from mature. We need to ensure your growth and development is not compromised by undiagnosed injuries." Bruce tells me before declaring my nose to now be broken in two places. I'm too sour to see the bigger picture.

"It's too late for precautions, big guy. If my development hasn't been compromised over the past four years with you, the rapes and sleeping rough before then surely did the trick." I say smacking his hand away again. This time it doesn't come back.

"Perhaps we can wait for Alfred to make a more professional diagnosis." Bruce says putting his torch away. I put my mask back on and we wait in silence, checking the casualties once more before help finally arrives.

"The teams have diffused half the explosives. They say it'll only take them another hour to sweep the rest. Turns out a mechanical timer is pretty unsophisticated these days." Jim Gordon says lighting his pipe. "So what direction do we think our former D.A has fled in?"

"He'll be heading back towards the city so he can actually get out of here. On foot in this terrain, avoiding all major roads and likely checkpoints, it will take him seven to eight hours to reach the city limits. At present, he has been on foot for almost forty minutes. Are your men armed?" Bruce asks as we're flanked by three or four heavily tooled up teams of four all equipped with powerful-looking tracker dogs.

"They have tranquillizers and live ammunition, just in case things get out of hand. I take it you want to accompany the search teams?" I don't even wait for a pause before jumping in with the obvious answer.

"Hell yeah, we-"

"No thank you, Commissioner. We have other matters to attend to."

"But Batman, with our car totaled, we need to hitch a ride back to the city with these guys anyway. We might as well just stay and help." I suggest in a way I personally think is logical and eloquent. By the way Jim Gordon's eyebrow just raised up, he agrees with me on this one. He indicates me with the end of his pipe.

"Your partner makes a good point, old friend. Surely there can't be any harm in…"

"Can I have a word in private, Commissioner?"

I don't know what's going on here as they withdraw to the other side of the paddy wagons, but I don't like the flavour of this private meeting of the minds. It's got the tang of betrayal and backstabbing. Less than thirty seconds later, they come back over.

"We're going home. Now." Bruce says. I turn to Jim but he just looks away. My jaw tightens. I'm being frozen out? After baring my soul to strangers and putting my ass through the ringer on the streets so he can play armchair detective, I don't get to watch this to the end? I have to make my hands into fists to stop myself from throttling him.

"May I please stay until the end of the search?" I manage to say without losing my temper entirely. The big guy's face is grim.

"No. The Commissioner has kindly provided us with transport back to the city. He has promised to keep us informed of their progress."

"Can I at least know why we're leaving now?"

"That will have to wait until we return to the city. I promise I will explain."

If there weren't so many police officers here, I'd make a bigger show of it, probably curse pretty hard too. As it stands, especially with Jim stood right there now watching me intently, I go quietly. I'm going to rip him apart during the ride back. We get into a patrol car and Bruce begins to drive us back to Gotham.

"Start fucking explaining why I'm sat on my ass in this car instead of taking down another freak from your personal collection. Start explaining right now." I say, resisting the urge to spit at him.

"Jim and his officers are more than capable of handling Dent in his current state. We are surplus to requirement. Our work here is done."

"Do you honestly think Two-Face killing my old man is a good enough reason to keep me from the bust? Do you really think I'm weak enough to let something like the fact that asshole made me homeless cloud my judgement? We've taken him down before. Like three times before. This isn't any different."

"Yes, it is."

"How?"

"The other three times, we had time between more complex cases to recover and adjust. Since you recuperated from your near life-threatening injuries, you have not had one day off in the past four months from your duties. It is time to rest." Really? He's playing the concerned father now? He's playing a parent of any description now? What the hell is wrong with him? I bend over backwards for him for four months and rewards me with a crap imitation of someone who gives a shit about my wellbeing? I want to punch him.

"Why not do this after we catch Dent? Wouldn't that make so much more sense than leaving before the big finish? At least then I could take a break and not be unbelievably pissed at you for ruining my triple crown."

"It is better we left before Dent's apprehension. There are certain things I wish to discuss with you at home that are too important to wait for."

"Why wait until we get home? If these things are so important that you left an active investigation to deal with them, why wait to speak? Tell me right now." I demand glaring at him. He doesn't even look in replying.

"This is not an appropriate venue for this type of conversation. We will have to wait until we return home. I have arranged for Alfred to collect us in the city once we return the vehicle to GCPD headquarters." I groan before slouching back in my chair and folding my arms.

"Oh joy."

We get to the precinct just before midnight. The call over the radio comes when we're handing back the keys. Seems in the end, ol' Harv went tamely courtesy of three well placed tranquillizer darts…in his ass. Even I can smile at that addition to the usual radio report. Al picks us up in an alleyway eight blocks away. He's driving the most discreet of black cars, an old Ford he sometimes uses to joyride around the grounds for gardening. I'm about to pile into the back with Bruce when Al gestures to the front seat. I oblige him and ride shotgun. He smiles at me in the only way that makes me smile back, even when I'm mad as hell. It's just another reason I love the old man more than the old master. Nobody says anything on the way back, which is good since I still time to calm down.

When we get into the cave, Bruce leaves immediately.

"Send him up when he's ready to talk, Alfred." He instructs Al as he's ascending the stairs in civilian clothes. The old man doesn't even offer a verbal reply: he just guides me over to the medical bay for treatment.

"What game's he playing this time, Al?" I ask as I take off my tunic, "What's he want me to do when he pulls my string now?"

"He is not going to ask you to perform yet again, Sir. I am almost pleased to tell you he has finally decided to follow my advice." The old man says snapping on a pair of latex gloves. He slips on his spectacles and begins to examine my head.

"Almost pleased, Al?" I check as he prods my skull for fractures.

"Yes, Master Jason, almost. He should have done something weeks ago. After our run-in with Mr. Nygma, he should have considered your needs and altered his approach to your relationship. All my prompting amounted to naught I am afraid to say. I only wish I could have pressed him harder. Perhaps it might have spared you some of the strain." He says before informing me I haven't broken anything important. I could have told him that. I roll my eyes.

"Why are the pair of you acting like I've been driven loopy by my workload? I mean, where the hell is all this concern and bullshit coming from? I've coped just fine with the last four months, the last five if you count my run-in with the reserves for the Red Sox. Hell, if anything, I've just proved I'm getting stronger by facing up to so much shit in so short a timeframe. You guys, by which I obviously just mean you Al, are overreacting. I'm fine." I tell him with more than a little bass in my voice. By his sour expression, I'm guessing he's picked up on it.

"You are sixteen, Sir. He may not remember, but I do. Regardless of how many degenerates you beat into unconsciousness or weight you can bench, you are still a child. With the amount of serious concussions you have suffered in the past three years and incredible catalogue of individual injuries you have sustained since taking up the mantle, you should really be a vegetable. Am I quite certain even Master Dick would be crippled by your 'workload', as you call it by this point. We wish to change that tonight." Al says, starting off curt before gradually tailing off into geniality. It's a hell of a trick, even for an old thespian like Al, to keep me in this kind of conversation. If it was Bruce, I would've walked off by now. I frown.

"Why now?" I ask as he graduates to my torso.

"Because we are all aware this is almost the point of no return for this partnership between yourself and Master Bruce. He has pulled you to breaking point with his attitude in recent weeks and it has to change or you will no longer abide by his rules. Should that happen, everything will come crashing down."

"And how's he going to stop the apocalypse from happening in one evening, Al? Do tell." I grunt when he presses on a particularly sore cluster of ribs. The old man smiles at me.

"He is not, Sir." Al rests a firm hand on my shoulder and squeezes it, "you are."

"What does that mean?" I ask. The old man sighs lethargically before motioning for me to shift over on the examination table. I oblige and he sits down. I watch him take a deep breath and then begin in earnest.

"Thus far, Master Bruce has set out the ground rules for you to follow, both at home and in the cave. These rules have always bore a striking similarity to those he laid out for Master Dick. As we both know, these absurd standards proved to be the undoing of your predecessor as Robin. And he was far less cynical and world-weary as you, even at eighteen." Al says with a smirk. I smirk back.

"Well, I do think of the world as an unending shithole of humanity's own creation."

"Precisely." He says with a nod whilst amiably patting my thigh, "precisely. Now, I have always felt that when you got to a certain age, it would be better all-around if you were given more leeway. Master Bruce has always felt otherwise. He thinks a firm hand is the only way to keep you in line. This is of course perfectly acceptable and some children respond well to strict parenting. You are not one of them. So, after years of failure, the master has acquiesced to my suggestions we let you set out the ground rules for your own benefit and continued wellbeing. To put it bluntly…"

"I call the shots." I finish for him. Al nods. "So, no more working twenty-four hours or more straight every other week?" I check. Al shakes his head. "No more disgusted looks from Bruce when I roll out of bed at ten instead of eight?" The old man shakes his head. "No more having to pretend I like you?" I inquire. Al looks at me in mock horror. I laugh. He chuckles and ruffles my hair.

"No, Sir, never again will you have to feign affection for me."

"So, when he says come up when I'm ready to talk, that means to talk at him, right? Not him talk at me?" I say, making sure I get to lay it on thick when I get upstairs. The old man nods.

"That is correct, young man: when you have your conditions ready, he will be ready to listen to them. Does that sound agreeable?"

"Only if you promise to help me enforce them, Al. This train doesn't leave the station without you as the conductor."

"I will back you up to the hilt, Master Jason." Al assures me with a theatrically clenched fist. I smile at him.

"I already have a first condition in mind."

"And what might that be?"

"I have to kiss you at least once a day, to remind me you are a tangible being, not a god, and to thank you for always having my back, no matter how bad he gets." I say, leaning in to peck him on the cheek only for him to move his head away.

"I don't know if my heart can take such affection on so regular a basis. I shall have to consult my cardiologist before agreeing to such an intense arrangement." He tells me firmly. I roll my eyes.

"Yeah, I mean with Bruce showering affection on you every day I can see how that's a major concern if I jump in on the action as well." I say getting to my feet only for Al to stand up and sit me back down.

"I'm not done checking you over, Sir."

"Mind checking my nose, Al? Bruce said I broke it again." I say. As soon as the old man gets within range, I kiss him on the mouth. He narrows his eyes at me.

"Well, that was smoothly done, wasn't it?" He says sarcastically, "almost as smoothly as this." There's a loud crack following an intense hit of pain and my nose has been reset again. This time around, I can't help my eyes watering up. I nod.

"Let's call this one a draw."

"Very wise, Master Jason."

I get up to Bruce's study an hour later. I'm showered and dressed in my usual workout sweats as I knock on the door. When there's no reply after thirty seconds, I knock again. When nothing comes this time, I walk away. If he doesn't want to meet me in the study for this little get-together, I have no clue where he could be. I take a half-assed look around the house and eventually wander across him in the library. He's sat on the window seat leafing through a copy of Alice in Wonderland when I approach him. He looks up immediately. He opens his mouth to speak.

"Al says shut up while I'm speaking." I tell him to control this conversation. He closes his mouth and nods whilst putting his book aside.

"So, your master plan to keep me sweet is to give me the reins?" I ask. He nods his head. "Think it'll work?" He shrugs. "Ready to listen to my conditions for me staying here and being a good boy? You can speak."

"Yes." He says. No 'go ahead' or 'please continue' tacked on the end to make it sound like he's giving me permission, just 'yes'. I nod in satisfaction.

"First and foremost, I'm going back to that therapy group. Not to gain people's trust and not for information. I'm going to help those kids get their lives back. Once it's over, I'm done with therapy…forever. No more amateur psychiatry from you or anybody else. Understand?"

"Yes."

"Second, I'll get up before ten every day, but not before eight. I won't sleep in late unless I need it. Same with smoking and drinking. I won't do them unless I need to and even then I'll cut down the amount of both. I'm not doing more than eight hours on a patrol or an operation ever again. I don't want the stress or the insomnia or the fucking disappointed looks you give me when I can't keep thinking straight after a day without sleep. I'm a kid. I need sleep or I don't grow right. Understand?"

"Yes, please-"

"Don't fucking say it, Bruce, I'm warning you." He closes his mouth. I go on. "Third, Barbara can stay as my tutor, but I still want lessons with Al. And she stays off the streets unless she trains with me first. Her shadowing me is a liability and will get her killed. She wants to come with me on patrol, she does six weeks minimum in the gym with me. She doesn't do that and she goes nowhere near me when I'm doing my thing. I don't want to clean up the mess. Understand?"

"Yes."

"Lastly, you fucking lay off me or I swear to God I will rip your throat out with my teeth. I'm not kidding. You berate me when I take out ten guys because I used the wrong foot to knock them unconscious, even once, and this partnership is over. You don't push me into making public speeches, joining you at galas or socializing with politicians or businessmen to make you look human. You're not human, but you do a good enough job of impersonating one on your own. You don't need me to back you up. So leave me out of your attempts to maintain your stupid pretenses." I say, the bile rising in my gut as I gather pace. He opens his mouth to speak. "I'm not fucking finished yet, you asshole." I practically spit.

"You also need to stop sporadically attempting to be a father to me. And I don't mean be more fatherly from now on, I mean stop trying altogether. You'll never be anything but a freak to me and that's where we're staying. Al's the only guy I need to love me. I don't need you to try. I need you to respect my boundaries and stop trying to connect with me. You've failed miserably. Quit while you're ahead. You follow these rules and we'll get along just fine. Anything unclear?" I say gesturing for him to speak. His face is unchanged as he shakes his head.

"No. You've made your position perfectly clear. I will make the necessary arrangements regarding your tuition and your caveats for Barbara Gordon accompanying you on patrol duties. If you have nothing else to say to me, thank you for your time." He announces getting to his feet. "I must return to the cave to check reports regarding Dent's arrest. If you would excuse me." He walks past without looking at me.

"Did that hurt?" I ask before he's out of earshot. He stops in place for a moment.

"Yes. It did."

"Good." He walks off. A minute later I walk off too. That felt really good. There's no point lying: I really enjoyed ripping into him. I think that's the end of his attempts to reach me now, I think I'm free to enjoy life without him imposing himself on my life like some kind of disease. The fragile bridge between us has been burnt to a tightrope only people who don't care about falling off can successfully cross. It's actually too late to stop the apocalypse from happening, but at least maybe we can live through it with some semblance of dignity. I don't love him anymore, if I ever really did. I thought we've have longer to make this crazy situation work, but time's run out. This is our partnership's last stand before one final insult tears us apart forever. After just four years, we've reached the final stages already. This is it…

The Endgame.