Saving Grace

Cat and Mouse

"Love ya too." He smiled and left.

"Aw! Someone's loved by daddybats!"

Robin narrowed his eyes.

"I think it is most glorious to have a father figure! My father sold me into slavery when I was seven, and then soon died afterwards."

"My dad was a mad scientist who turned me green. And then died." Beast Boy added.

"My dad made me the way I am." Cyborg clenched his metallic fist.

"You guys know about my father..." Raven droned.

"We are merely mentioning how lucky you are to have such a nice and caring guardian."

"Bruce is...interesting. To say the least. I miss my birth parents dearly, but I'm glad Bruce adopted me…out of everyone who could have."

"Without him, you wouldn't be the leader you are now."

"The titans wouldn't have existed..."

"And we never would have drawn Slade's interest." Robin finished darkly. The others paused, it was true, no denying that.

"But what if it was Slade who adopted you in the first place?" Star commented.

Robin shuddered. "True, that is something to be thankful for."

That evening, Starfire was on patrol again. She waited until Robin was asleep and then ventured to the cafeteria for her very late dinner. While she was gone, he had a visitor.

"Well hello Dick. Feeling better?"

"What do you want?" he asked darkly.

"Is that a challenge?" he laughed. "Move your arms and legs. Are they bound?"

Indeed, they were not. "No..."

"Good. I know you are weak so I'll give you a ten minute head start. Who knows, you might be able to lose me this time."

Robin looked at him wide eyed.

"I see Dick run..."

He bolted upright and yanked the IVs out of his arm. He came down hard on his broken leg and crushed toes. The searing pain was enough to send him to his knees, but he wasn't giving up. He had to work fast. He hobbled to the window seat where the bag with his clothes sat. The familiar red, yellow, and green glared back at him. He shoved it aside and grabbed his utility belt. Rifling through it, he found plenty of broken bird-a-rangs, defective smoke bombs, and useless tracing devices. Luckily, the tools he needed were still useful. He took out the grappling hook and tied the end of it to the middle beam of the window. He stuck one of his retractable bow staffs into the waistband of his pants. With a taught tug, he made a move for the window and took one last look at Slade.

"Run, Dick, run."

He looped his arm through the handgrip and repelled out the window.

His bare feet touched solid concrete, soaked from a puddle. Rain fell harshly on his head. He drew the bow and extended it to the height of his shoulder and used it as a support for walking. He limped away into a nearby alley.

The boost of adrenaline wore off and he realized just how weak he was. His leg was indeed broken, the pain was enough to tell him that. He made his way through town, using alleys to avoid people. It was late, but there were still people out and about.

He came upon an alley were a man was being mugged. He was about to turn around, but knew he could not forgive himself if he did.

Standing at his full height, he gripped the bow and took a deep breath.