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The hairs on Harvey Bullock’s neck stood on end when he walked into his apartment. Someone was here. He slowly closed the door and drew his gun. With his elbow, he flicked on the light.
For a beat, he froze completely.
“Robin?”
The kid sitting on his couch didn’t answer. He didn’t move or emote. And he wasn’t in costume. But Harvey was sure as all get out that that was Robin. His Robin. The second one. Not the one running around with Batman for the last months. That kid was a good half a foot shorter than his Robin, who’d shot up like a beanstalk at some point, and a good few pounds lighter. It was kinda insulting actually. Like he wouldn’t recognize his friend being swapped out. But he’d assumed… Well, he’d figured his Robin was dead.
But here he was, broken into Harvey’s apartment like he’d done a dozen times before, sitting on the arm with his feet on the cushion because the kid didn’t know how to sit like a normal person.
Harvey cautiously approached, holstering his weapon. “That you, shrimp?”
Robin cocked his head like a bird, but he didn’t say anything. It was the only indication he’d heard Harvey at all. Harvey’d never known Robin to go more than five minutes without running his mouth. The silence was unnerving. The whole thing was unnerving actually.
Harvey reached out and placed a hand on Robin’s knee. Robin looked down slowly and back up at him, expression unchanged. He was actually there, not some sort of ghost. “Y’alright?” he asked. It was a nothing question. Robin wasn’t alright.
Robin cocked his head again but said nothing.
Did he want something from Harvey? He didn’t seem to be hurt. He just seemed…Well, he seemed like the lights were on but no one was home.
“Hang on,” he told him and fished out his phone. The dial tone chirped at him twice before Gordon picked up.
“Bullock.”
“Hey, Comish,” Harvey kept his voice soft and his eye on Robin. “I’ve … Could ya call Batman? Send him my way.”
Gordon’s voice was immediately more serious. “Do you need backup?”
“No, it’s…” He watched as Robin’s gaze drifted into a middle distance. “It’s personal.”
“’Personal,’” Gordon repeated. “Between you and Batman.”
“Damn it, just get ‘im here, will you, Comish? I gotta go.”
He hung up the phone. A minute later, the faint glow of the Bat Signal lit up the cloudy night through his window.
“Bats know about you being…back…here?” Harvey asked, lamely. Of course Batman would know. But it was enough to make Robin’s empty gaze drift back towards him, so he kept going. “I wasn’t worried, you know.” A theatrical beat falling on deaf ears. “Ok, fine, twist my arm, I was worried. I thought… But you’re here. And what, just for my sparkling company?”
He wanted Robin to say that his company was only as sparkly as cheap glitter that’s impossible to wash out of a carpet. He wanted him to grin or laugh or move. He was silent. He was still. It was wrong. But there was not a doubt in his mind that this was Robin. Alive, and, well…
A knock sounded at the door, cutting off his train of thought before he could think of Robin as broken, and he answered it, careful not to take his eyes off of Robin. He and the Bat were like some kind of reverse weeping angels. If you took your eyes off ‘em for one second, poof! Not so much as a ‘see you later.’
Batman was at the door. “Bullock. Gordon said you had something for me.”
“Someone, actually.” Harvey gestured him inside.
If Harvey’d been hoping Robin would react at seeing Batman, he was disappointed. The kid just gave him the same stare he’d given Harvey. Batman, on the other hand, who was normally as closed a book as they came, relaxed immediately upon seeing Robin. As if Harvey had any remaining doubts.
“Did –” Batman considered his words. “Did he say something to you? Was that why you had Gordon call me?”
Harvey huffed. “Nah, he’s been … quiet.”
“Then…?”
“D’ya think I’m an idiot, Bats?” He gestured towards the kid. “I knew Robin for three years. There’s just not that many people who break into my apartment. Let alone ones who look like baby acrobats with smoking problems.”
The half of Batman’s face that was visible tightened. He didn’t deny it.
“The hell happened to him?”
“I wish I knew.”
That took Harvey aback. He gaped at Batman as he brushed past Harvey and took Robin’s hand. Robin moved slowly but allowed himself to be led away from the couch towards the door. Harvey grabbed Batman’s arm. “Hey, he’s my friend. I called you. I’m not here to unmask him to the world. You owe me some goddamn answers, or I will find ‘em myself.”
Batman removed his arm from Harvey’s grip in a quick motion. “Thank you for calling me, Bullock.” And he left, pulling Robin along with him.
Harvey’s apartment was empty. He closed the door. Locked it. Like that would stop anyone trying to get in. He’d never figured out how the kid did it, anyhow. He didn’t know how to feel. Robin was alive. But thought of him living like that for -- god, what was it? At least half a year -- sent a chill down his spine. A thought briefly surfaced of Batman sticking the kid in Arkham if he didn’t get better. No, he wouldn’t. He shivered in the empty apartment and wondered if he’d ever see him again. If he’d ever find out what happened to him.