based off my artwork for goretober and a comment left on it

Equipment that could mean the difference between life and death needed to be checked frequently and Robin knew that. He also knew it needed to be replaced as soon as it was expected to be faulty. That's why he was rather surprised when Batman didn't double-check his work and didn't replace the ropes they used to fly through the Gotham skyline when he suggested it. 

"It's good to air on the side of caution but both of our ropes were replaced at the same time and mine is perfectly fine. You're not out as much as I am so they can't be that degraded."

Although Robin trusted the man with his life, he felt like it was the wrong call to make. There was a kink in it which he pointed out to Batman and insisted that this would make it faulty. He also reminded him that they'd fought in the winter with Clayface who threw grit at them. Combined with the extreme dampness the snow had caused, the lack of use since Robin didn't get out as much so it didn't dry well and the grit, he was sure that the rope would be weaker. Yet Batman continued to insist that if he was fine then so was Robin. Deciding he couldn't win this fight, Robin backed down. After all, Batman had been in the game for much longer and he could be overprotective at times so there was no way he'd let the young boy go out there with faulty equipment. Besides, when was Batman ever wrong?

The pair had separated halfway through the night to help build Robin's confidence in working alone. Robin felt like it was more so for Batman to quell his separation anxiety when they split up during work but he didn't complain. He enjoyed the freedom of throwing unnecessary flips and cartwheels without being chastised for how they wasted time. He didn't care if it wasn't efficient, he looked cool and part of being a hero was looking cool. It was also nice to remind criminals that he was capable to fight on his own. 

Batman didn't enjoy their separation in the slightest but it did give him time to work on intense cases. He tried to keep Robin out of them for the most part, always investigating when he was sure the boy wasn't there to look over his shoulder at the gruesome notes. Logically he knew that one day Robin would have to learn that the world of crime didn't stop at murders and the worst thing that can happen to a person isn't always dying tragically but if that could be pushed back then he would gladly push it back. He'd work to preserve that little bit of innocence for as long as he could. 

They'd been apart for a little more than an hour and Batman was about to swing off a building when his rope snapped. Luckily he hadn't jumped off yet and the tension of him pulling on it in preparation had been enough for the fibres to break. He stared in shock at the broken rope, narrowing his eyes at it like it was going to explain why it snapped or somehow apologise for it. There went his excellent form of transport for the night. He huffed and pulled on the rope to inspect the damage. It looked like it had been worn down over time but it had been working fine all night. Sure it had a small kink in it but usually, a kinked rope could last at least a week after being defective. Although he did try a new brand of rope so maybe there was a difference in it he'd failed to realize. He remembered back to the cave when Robin had mentioned a similar kink in his rope. Huh. The kid was right after all. He pulled out his communicator to give him a call. 

Robin hadn't found much excitement tonight. He guessed all the good crime was on Batman's side of the city or maybe people had grown a bit of a conscience so didn't want to fight an eleven-year-old in a traffic light outfit. Since he had no one to fight, he spent his time practising his flips and dives from buildings. It wasn't all that necessary but he loved the rush of jumping into action, the air rushing past his face and running through his hair and the pride of doing a trick just how he saw it in his mind. He loved it.

Seconds after jumping off another building and hitting the low point of the swing, he realised that he was no longer moving forward but instead tumbling downwards in a freefall. A scream ripped from his throat as he came to the horrible conclusion that he couldn't do anything to save himself. There was nothing but the ground to break his fall and he didn't know how far up he was but he was sure that it was too high to fall from without something breaking. His eyes welled up as a single thought stuck out in his mind. Was this what his parents felt like when they died? The panic, the fear and being forced to be at peace with it because there was nothing that could be done to prevent his body from hitting the street below. He wasn't ready to die. Not in the slightest. His short life flashed before his eyes as the howling wind muted the sound of them. Then through the wind, he caught the shrill beep of his communicator. He'd turned it up high so it could be heard over the life of the city and now it was shouting at him but he couldn't do anything to answer it just like he couldn't do anything to stop his fall. 

Hitting the ground was possibly the worst pain he'd ever felt. At first, all Robin could recognise was that he'd stopped falling but then pain bloomed through his entire back and skull. He let out a broken cry knowing that Batman wouldn't hear him because he was God knows where in Gotham. He just about managed to turn his head to see the blinking light of his communicator telling him someone was trying to contact him and with great effort, he picked up the call.

"Check your rope," Batman's gravelly voice said. 

A little too late, he wanted to say. Come get me was something he also wanted to say. Yet when he opened his mouth all he could do was let out a cry and whimper. 

"Chum?" He must've heard Robin crying. He was using that tone he did after particularly tough patrols. His voice was breathy too. Was he running? Maybe he would find Robin soon. He hoped so. Everything hurt so much and his vision was blacking out. Or perhaps whiting out? All he knew was that he felt like he was fading but not painlessly. He was very much aware of the way his arm was bent at a bad angle at hitting the dumpster on his way down, the way his ankle was throbbing from banging against a fire escape and the blood pooling beneath his head. 

"Answer me, chum. What's wrong?"

"Dad?" he gurgled. That apparently took too much as his eyes closed, and he struggled to open them back up, he decided the call of the void was too strong for him to ignore. 

"I'm nearly there. Just stay with me." 

He was already gone.

Bruce felt numb throughout the entire ordeal. From the moment he heard his child's cries for him to finding him broken in the alley and then taking him to Leslie hoping that she could piece him back together. That all lead to Bruce sitting by the bedside of his ward who was unconscious with multiple wires and tubes coming out of him. God knows what all of them did. All he could focus on was Dick's face, stained with blood and bruised. The colour from his cheeks had been sufficiently drained and the darker part of Bruce's brain made an attempt to convince him the boy was dead but thankfully a consistent beep proved it wrong. 

"How is he?" he asked when Leslie was done. He knew it wasn't good but he didn't know if there was anything lasting.

"Stable. Look, I know I usually just let you guys come in here from whatever fight you've been in and don't ask questions but Bruce, he has a depressed skull fracture. Do you know how bad that could be? You're incredibly lucky that there's no brain damage from what I can tell." Leslie replied. Although she kept her cool for the most part, her voice was pitched up slightly to signal her worry. "It looks like he fell off a roof."

"He did," he answered. He hated feeling so small but it wasn't like he deserved any better. He was the reason the poor boy was so broken laying in the hospital bed more cast and bandages than skin. There was so much bruising too that he wished he could heal right then and there because he knew how it felt to be that banged up and Dick was only small. So small. 

"He fell off a roof?" she repeated incredulously. 

"His rope snapped. He was probably taking a dive and it snapped. I can only be thankful he seemed to be in the lowest part of the dip when he fell." 

"How did it snap?"

"You don't need to know."

"I do need to know actually because I let you get away with a fucking lot but if I find out that you're putting that kid in more danger than necessary then I'll-"

"Then you'll what? Take him away from me and get him back to the shithole he was in before? You saw him when he got out of there and if you want to willingly put him back then you're not the doctor I thought you were." He regretted snapping as soon as he said it but didn't make a move to apologise. Instead, he just looked longingly at his ward, hoping that he'd pop back up and say it was all an elaborate prank but that wasn't going to happen. They were looking at many months of recovery and he needed to figure out a cover story for it all so it didn't look suspicious. Then there's what the press would say since they're always there ready to snap at anything slightly odd, what would other heroes say and what was Alfred going to say? Alfred was going to serve him burnt food for the rest of his life. Leslie sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose, deciding not to fight it any further even if it would give her peace of mind. She busied herself with checking over her notes. Eventually, she seemed content with her work and turned to Bruce with a hint of a glare.

"One day you're going to break that boy and I'm not going to be able to stitch him back together. He's going to receive real long lasting damage. I'm not asking you to fire him because I know he'll just go out there without you."

"What are you asking of me then?"

"To learn from your mistakes."

"I'll try."

"There is no trying. You'll learn or you'll only do more harm than you can make up for." He watched her carefully as she walked out of the room and then turned back to Dick. Gently, he picked up the younger's hand and held it firmly in his. The size difference only made Dick seem more fragile. His hand was just so tiny in comparison. He was so small. That word kept repeating in his head and would likely haunt him until Dick was an adult. Maybe it would stay even then.

"I'll listen to you chum. I promise I will." He pressed a kiss against Dick's forehead. "I'll make it up to you."