Fawkes

In the Doghouse

Batman was furious with me. 

It wasn't like the fire of anger and resentment that usually burned between us, but it was true fury. When contacting the team over the computer at Mount Justice, he refused to address me or even answer my sarcastic comments. The rest of the week went by slowly, and although I shouldn't have, I couldn't help feeling bothered by Bruce ignoring me.

Then I remembered that I was completely in the right. All I did was disobey his orders and go after one of the most dangerous criminals in the country, alone.

Okay, so maybe I understood where he was coming from.

But if he wanted an apology, then he'd better be prepared for years of waiting. I had my reasons to be mad, and he had is. It was better that we didn't speak. It was how it should've been.

But after another call full of me making condescending comments about the Bat and causing my usual ruckus, I felt cold and annoyed. He wouldn't even glance my way. Not once. It was like I was just some other kid on this team.

Was it wrong that I felt like I should've been more? I'd known the Bat for years. He'd been there as I grew up, maybe not everyday, but enough for him to see me develop into what I was now. Since I was six or so years old, he was there. Even if we were fighting and arguing ninety percent of the time, there was a comfort in knowing that he would be there on some rooftop in Gotham, never failing to promise to take me away from the Joker.

I guess I'd never realized how much of a liability Bruce was until he was gone. I guess I'd never known that after all these years, him being there in any way shape or form was a comfort. It reminded me that when I was younger, someone managed to have faith in me. Often, when I was a child, that was the only thing that helped me sleep at night. The knowledge that some day I might've had the courage to ask Batman to take me with him. The knowledge that someone out there didn't look at me like a lost cause. Even if his hope slowly dwindled, it was there, and who knows what I would've done to myself if he had never had faith in me? Who knows what would've happened if I never met the Bat?

Even if he didn't trust me, he gave me a chance. He gave me endless chances, and yet I still disobeyed his commands. He'd given me more than I deserved, and I showed no gratitude other than that brief moment in my room back at the Manor when Bruce had given me the scholarship to Gotham Academy.

Did he know I was thankful?

Heck, I didn't even know how thankful I was. Not until Batman refused to look at me and gave me the cold shoulder for an entire week.

It was slowly driving me up the wall. I needed a distraction. No one else on the team seemed to notice the change between me and the Bat, but then again I guess it wasn't obvious unless you were me. Maybe I was just overreacting. Surely.

Either way, it was eating me up inside, and I was itching for something to take my mind off of it.

I soon knew what I had to do, and I wandered into the kitchen where Wally was seated at the table and M'gann was cleaning the counter from where she had spilled flour everywhere.

I glanced at her warily before sitting across from Wally, immediately getting his attention. I placed both of my hands on the table, the burns on my left one having scabbed by now and no longer requiring me to wear bandages.

"Oh, I know that look." He grinned at the unmistakeable glint of mischief that sat in my eyes, and I couldn't help but return the favour. "Who's the target this time?"

"Robin." I didn't hesitate.

"You already did him, remember? When you first got here?"

"Yeah but that was amateur stuff." I waved off the oil prank he was referring to, "I need this to be big."