Batman, Robin, Superman, Impulse and all related characters are the property of DC Comics. Rachel Storm Wayne belongs to my own warped imagination. No copyright infringement intended. Full Circle He almost missed it. It had been a hectic few months and checking the mail, e-mail and answering machine was the least of his priorities. He hadn’t even known until Bart Allen showed up on his doorstep. It was a private house, away from any neighbors, so no one noticed Bart’s Mach 6 arrival. He’d been surprised to see the speedster. They weren’t exactly friends, although their mentors had seemed to get on with each other well. “Tim,” Bart had greeted. “Rachel sent me to get you.” Timothy Drake had expected just about anything besides that, although it made sense. Who else but his sister could inspire Bart to risk his secret identity by racing out here sans costume and mask? Rachel Storm Wayne could wrap men around her little finger, and Bart Allen was no exception. But Rachel would never have asked that of him. Unless... “Bruce?” “He’s gone, Tim. I’m sorry.” Three nights ago, Bart had explained. Quietly, in his sleep. He hadn’t been in pain. He’d slipped away before Richard and Rachel had any idea that anything was wrong. Tim wasn’t surprised really. Bruce had been sick for a long time now. Cancer had been eating him up for almost ten years now, and the last few months he’d only gotten worse. So Tim had been preparing himself for the moment when Bruce finally gave in to the cancer, when the man who’d been like a second father to him died. “We’ve been trying to reach you,” Bart continued. “But we never got through. Finally, Rachel and I just decided to come see you in person. The funeral’s this afternoon and we thought you should be there.” “I’ll never get there in time,” Tim realized. ‘God, I wasn’t there when he died, now I can’t even be there when they bury him...’ “Sure you can,” Bart argued. “If you don’t mind being carried.” Tim had given him a look of disbelief. It had worked though. Bart had made the twelve hour trip from Tim’s home in upstate New York to the private cemetery of the Wayne Manor in Gotham in a matter of minutes, arriving just as the funeral began. He’d seen everybody he’d expected too, a few he hadn’t. Vicki Vale had been there. And Barbara Gordon. Clark and Lois Kent with the kids. Jimmy Olsen and his wife Cassandra. Half the Justice League. Lucius Fox and his family. ex-Mayor Grange. Selina Kyle and her daughter. Max Mercury and Wally and Linda West. Jean-Paul Valley. Richard Grayson and Rachel Storm Wayne had sat together at the front, neither looking particularly well. Tim had a half second to wonder when had been the last time they’d slept before Bart ushered him into a seat beside Richard, before he took his own place next to Rachel. Seeing his foster sister lean against Bart’s shoulder inspired Tim to wonder just how close those two had become, but the minister had started speaking and he’d lost the train of thought. It was a small service, simple. Most everyone spoke. Tim had spoken as well, telling of the support and guidance that had always been there. The friendship. How much he’d miss his mentor. It was late evening by the time the last of their friends had said their good-byes. Tim, Rachel and Richard would be staying at the Manor that night, until the reading of the will the next day. It was a distasteful idea, splitting up Bruce’s belongings, like that was all that was left of him. Tim was only mildly surprised to find his old room unchanged. Bruce had once said ‘Whenever you need it, there’s a place for you here.’ And he’d meant it. And he certainly had enough space in the mansion to keep three rooms separate for his kids. Four rooms, Tim corrected himself. He knew Jason’s room would still be as it had. Sleep was an elusive quarry that refused to surrender. After hours of lying in the dark, thinking about everything that had happened over the last twenty years, Tim had finally given up and ventured downstairs. *Downstairs* downstairs. To the ‘basement.’ The Cave was another thing that hadn’t changed. There were a few souvenirs Tim didn’t recognize, although he could guess what cases they pertained too. The ‘Mobile was different. Bruce had never tired of customizing that car over and over again. Tim’s target was the ‘brains of the Batcave’ as he’d once called it. Bruce had laughingly replied that he’d been replaced by a machine, the gone ahead to prove that he was still the best detective in Gotham, no matter how big a computer you got. Tim had spent entire afternoons digging through the memory banks when he was younger. He ran a hand over the keyboard, almost reverently. Some of the best times of his life had happened in this house, in this Cave. He’d made four of the best friends he’d ever had. He didn’t regret a second of it. He paused for a moment. Propped against the main monitor was a white envelope, with only his name scrawled across it, Tim recognized Bruce’s handwriting instantly. He picked up the envelope with shaking hands, carefully opened it and removed the letter inside. There were three separate bundles of paper, stapled individually. Richard’s name was on one, Rachel’s another. These two Tim set aside. The third had his name. *** Tim, So what do I say? It’s been a couple of great decades, hasn’t it? I still remember the thirteen year old who showed up out of nowhere, knew all my secrets, and forced me to start living again. *** It took Tim the better part of an hour to get through it, stopping at certain parts to work past a catch in his breath, or blink away the tears in his eyes as he read the last words that would ever be spoken to him by his mentor. The last page held only three short paragraphs, and a key, taped to the paper. Tim pulled lose the key carefully, not wanting to rip the paper. He recognized the key to the outer entrance of the Cave. He read and reread that last page *** It’s been a long time since you’ve been in the Cave, Tim. I think you made a point of avoiding it whenever you came to visit. Robin was what you wanted to be, and you were the best partner I ever had, but beyond that... You had a life of your own and it didn’t involve the Bat mythos. Lucky man. Sometimes I wish I had gotten away from this. That I’d been strong enough to look at the cowl and say ‘The last time,’ and mean it. But I wasn’t so I never did. I don't regret it though. This was what I had to do. No matter how much grief it caused me, the happiness, the satisfaction always exceeded it. That’s why I’ve leaving you this letter, and this key. It’s the only copy I had made. Kept it all these years. Probably the only key I never lost! I’m leaving this to you because I know that you are strong enough to say ‘no more.’ To put this to rest. Or to continue it. The choice always has been, and always will be yours. Do what you know is right. Do what you have to do for yourself. For the last twenty years I have had the honor and the pleasure of thinking of you as my son, as well as my partner and my friend. Whatever you decide from this point on, know that I love you, and no matter what you decide about this, I will support your decision. Goodbye, Tim. *** Tim fingered the key carefully. He’d left the role of Robin behind when he turned eighteen and while he’d considered the possibility of returning to that life, he’d never done it. He’d made his life elsewhere. But it had never been the same. The thrill of the hunt, the rush of adrenaline, the satisfaction of taking down a killer; that was something he’d missed. Carefully, slowly, quietly, Tim stood and walked away. Two hours later, for the first time in eight months, Batman patrolled the streets of Gotham. ________