A/N: Be gentle. First Titans ficlet. I remember there was an episode where Raven was in Robin's mind and flashed through a few of his memories. One of them was of two circus performers, his parents, falling to their deaths. This takes place after that.

I don't want to say anything because it's not my place. We all have our secrets. Even him. Especially him. Especially secrets that no one should touch, just ones that need to be left to fester deep within us.

His memories are sacred, at least to him, and to bring them up - to tell us what makes him tick - would be sacrilege.

Except that I know.

I didn't mean to know. I didn't want to know. It just…spilled over. When I went to help him, I betrayed him. I touched those treasures, and they shone for me. And now they indwell me as much as him, and I desperately need to know who are the people that I watch die in our dreams each night.

The woman is tall, lanky, athletic. She radiates confidence. She stands for peace. And I really like her smile.

The line below snaps. Her limbs go rigid as she passes the point at which the safety net would have been.

The man is solidly built and sturdy. His strength, both inner and outer, is obvious in his strong handshake and friendly clap on the back.

He can only watch as the blood seeps from her body, only given enough time behind her to know the fall is fatal.

The boy...my heart seizes when he runs to the corpses and pushes them as though to reanimate the limbs. Air rushes from my lungs and whatever shaky hold I had on my tears is gone and two track down my cheeks.

Again and again and again.

Four nights in a row, I dreamt that my - our - his mom pointed at him from the clouds. Marking him for the archangels to avenge. Before that, I dreamt that the boy made a last ditch effort to tie up a net, only to hear the sickening slap of flesh on cement. Tonight, I am afraid of what I will see. So I don't sleep.

The tea is smooth, the room quiet. I can't not sleep indefinitely; I'll crash. But for right now, I have to fend it off and maybe figure out a way to return what I've stolen.

But how? How?

The last drops of the brew on my tongue are bitter, rolling around in the back of my throat.

Can...can I even talk to him?

The cup clanks against the pile of dishes in the sink, and though I dread the chewing out to come with dawn, I leave them for someone else to do this time.

It doesn't matter what I can do. It matters what I should do.

Head ducked, I hesitate outside his door.

Can't couldn't shouldn't what if will he not mine why did I...

The faint taste of blood on my lips snaps me out of my daze. Knock, knock, knock. I focus on my fist, held steady half an inch off the door. Knock, already!

Knock.

Reverberations in corridor nip at my composure, but before I can run, he's before me. A smile curls up a corner of my mouth. He sleeps in army green sweats, and his hair is more of a mess than usual.

"Rav'n?" He slurs curiously. He must have caught the tension in my shoulders. His eyes sharpened. "What's up?"

"Um…" I don't know how to do this. Do I just invite myself in or take him back to the kitchen or erase the past ten minutes from his mind right now or…?

A firm hand on my shoulder steers me into the room and toward a chair that seemed to be waiting for me. He takes the opposite, slowly leveling his eyes at me. He's always been able to sense heavy conversational topics.

I don't say anything at first. I don't even look at him. I feel like a thief in a confessional, and curtain flicking between our legs isn't helping the sensation of entrapment. This was a very, very bad - wrong - stupid idea.

"R-robin?"

"Yeah?"

"Tell me about…" my - our "...your family."