Sleep
AN) This has been running wild in my head for about three months, two of which were taken up trying to put it into words. So, please review!
In a city known as Jump, in the middle of a bay there sits an island. On that island there is a tower and in that tower sits a boy. The boy almost never sleeps, it's not that he doesn't want to. It's just that…that he can't. Instead he spends the nights looking out to the city thinking about times gone by.
It's not like he's afraid of the dark or anything. If he were it would be impossible for him to be who he was today. The problem is the nightmares.
Click
No, they can't be classified as nightmares.
Creak
It's the memories.
SNAP!
He can't stand seeing it every night. He feels that after all these years he should be used to it, they should have stopped. He should be able to close his eyes without seeing it, seeing them. He knows by now its useless trying to sleep and that he should just give up. The problem is he, himself. Dick...Robin whoever he is doesn't loose he doesn't, can't won't accept defeat. Then again if that's the case then why is he sitting there not even trying to sleep?
Click
For a minute (more than that if he's completely honest with himself, not likely) he longs the huge mansion that had been his home since the age on nine. He longed for Alfred to offer him some hot chocolate or warm milk. The old man who in many ways was more of a grandfather to him than his own would hum an old tune from his childhood in England that would immediately cheer him up as he made the warm beverage. They would sit there in silence until Alfred would question him about it. He'd be assured that it was a completely normal thing to experience after all that he had seen. They'd keep talking about sports, weather, music, whatever they found relevant at the time. Eventually he'd yawn and Alfred would send him off to bed with a hug and a kiss to the top of the head. The nightmares wouldn't surface for weeks.
Creak
Then, came the Bruce method. That one depended on what had happened that week, on who you were talking about. It depends on if you're talking to Bruce Wayne or Batman. If you were talking to Bruce he'd go the gentle route. He'd know about the nightmare before it happened. (He might not be in Bat-mode, but come on how the hell does he know everything? Honestly, just kind of creepy.) As soon as it started he'd be there with a hug, some soft-spoken words and quiet reassurances. "Shhhh. It's ok Chum it's over now. They aren't here its over." They'd spend the rest of the night watching movies or taking a swim in the indoor pool. For the next few weeks his dreams would feature normal things for a boy his age.
SNAP!
If it had been a rough week involving a massive breakout from Arkham or an encounter with The Joker then he'd be treated to the Batman method. The memories would come and he'd wake up with only his Robin training to keep him from screaming his head off. He'd make his way down to the kitchen to check for Alfred after dawning his Gotham Knights sweatshirt and fuzzy slippers. When he would realize that the elderly man was not awake he'd make his way down to the cave. The Bat would be there, he was almost always there. The Bat would shoot him that all knowing I-Know-Why-Your-Down-Here-But-I'm-Not-Going-To-Make-You-Talk-About-It-Right-Now look and they'd spend the rest of the night training and talking about case files. For the next moth or more his dreams would be safe. He'd be shrouded in the safe, comforting darkness and bats would surround and protect him as he slept.
Click
He honestly can't take it anymore. The lack of sleep is starting to get to him and he knows he can't face his team tomorrow if he's falling asleep at every turn. If he could just get a few nights without the memories then he'd be safe…until they hit again.
Creak
As he sat there staring at the water he thought about maybe taking one of his pills. He hates taking them, thinks he'll get to reliant. That's why he's only taken them twice since Leslie prescribed them. Once on the anniversary of his parents deaths when Alfred and Bruce were gone (age 10, the first year without them) and once right after his last meeting with the Joker.
SNAP!
The young man in question sat up on his bed and proceeded to look out the window. He watched the waves gently lap on the shore and let the gentle sound wash over him. The last thing he remembered was looking up at the stars, sleep took him soon afterwards.
He was nine again. He's always nine in his nightmares. Barely nine, his birthday had been two days previous (Actually two days, twelve hours, forty-seven minutes, and fifteen seconds to be exact.) and his mom had made him a new uniform. It was her little way of saying how proud of him she was.
"Here you are Dick," she said proudly, "Now the world will see you as my Little Bird, my Little Robin." At the time he had hated how she made a fuss over him. Not even two days later that became one of his favorite memories. The night it happened was his first time flying in his new uniform. They'd had the last few days to practice for the big Wayne foundation fundraiser. If their act was good enough it was possible they could more on to Barnum & Bailey or even Circ Des Ole. Not that they'd every leave Pop Hailey's circus, but it was always good to keep their options open. It was amazing; it was the opportunity they had been waiting for. It was… a disaster.
The day had started normally enough, well for circus life anyway. He'd woken up, had breakfast, trained, and spent time with Sicka, the elephant. All in all a completely normal day until…
"Gotham is a dangerous place bad things happen here, plenty 'o horrible accidents. If you pay me an' my boys you might be able to avoid them." Said a voice belonging to Anthony "Tony" Zucco; unknown to him at the time but it would one day haunt his every moment both waking and sleeping.
"What exactly are you saying.." The rest of what Pop Hailey said fell on def ears. As soon as he realized what was going on little Dick Grayson called the cops. It was all going fine until Mary and John Grayson walked out of their trailer. John took one look at the men before stepping right up to Pop Hailey's side. The mobsters threw out a few more threats after which he couldn't hold his laughter.
"What do you think is so funny little boy,' sneered the one that the boy in question had named Dumber.
The next words he said would haunt his waking and sleeping mind for the rest of his life, "I called the cops about ten minutes ago." Dumb and Dumber just stood there doing what he felt were perfect impressions of trout. The leading man whose name he later learned was Tony Zucco shot him a bone chilling glare. The man's multicolored eyes bored into him making chills run down his spine.
"And guess who intercepted the call," a growling voice came from the shadows as a large figure emerged.
"It's da Bat, let's get outta here," Dumb yelled proving that he was in fact completely deserving of his new nickname
. A few minutes later the police were hauling Dumb and Dumber away and Tony Zucco was no where to be found. A mistake that all on the scene would feel guilty for a few short hours later.
Five minutes till show time and little nine year old (Nine years, two days, sixteen hours, fifty-two minutes, and twenty eight seconds to be exact.) Dick Grayson was nervous. He was worried so he decided to seek comfort in his father. Having been around the show since his birth he knew where to go. John Grayson was a careful man who always checked the equipment, he left no room for error. His motto was always check the ropes at least three time and even after that at least two more. On a night that had so much riding on it with so little room for error it didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out where John would be. So without further adieu little Richard "Dick" Grayson a.k.a little Robin made his way to the tent his father would be in. To his surprise he saw a vaguely familiar figure walking out of the tent carrying a knife.
Twenty minutes later little Dick "Robin" Grayson stood on a platform with his parents as Pop's introduced him. Fifteen prior his parents had assured him that the ropes were fine and that they would go check again. This assurance was followed by a series of events that had not only deprived them of a chance to recheck the ropes but had made them two minutes late.
"It'll be fine Little Robin," His mother assured him smiling at him warmly.
"Don't worry about it son," his father said, also smiling, "And," he added dropping his voice to a false whisper, "If we do well we might get your mom to tell us where she hid the rest of your birthday cake."
"John," Mary admonished her husband as her son laughed. Soon all three Grayson's broke down in laughter. The three of them hugged and stayed like that for a few moments until Papa Hailey finished his introduction.
His father went first, doing a few simple moves to warm up. He then beckoned his son over to him. His mother hugged him one more time and sent him on his way. The move was simple jump, grab, glide, release, flip, catch, and back again. He preformed flawlessly like he'd been taught. His mother then joined his father out on the ropes. They glided and flipped, their bodies were art, and their movements were poetry, then it happed.
Little nine year old Dick Grayson (Nine years, two days, seventeen hours, one minute, and seven seconds to be exact.)Was smiling as he watched his parents perform and silently waiting for his turn on the trapeze. The boy was so carefree and happy that if the world ended right then and there he wouldn't have mined. At least that's what he thought right before his world came crashing to the ground around him.
One minute he was preparing to jump back out as his mother and father worked their magic. They both separated and went to separate side of the trapeze; swinging back and forth trying to gain enough momentum to do their flips. Suddenly from above Dick heard a noise. CLICK! He looked around trying to find the source; his mother started her flips. CREAK! Dick continued to look around trying to find the source of the noise and gasped in horror as he did; his father catching her mother smiling as he felt his hands in hers. Then a look of shock as they both registered the noises.
"I love you Dick," his mother said her voice filled with both love and fear. SNAP! The rope spilt; Mary and John Grayson went crashing to the floor quickly as they held one another.
"No Mom Dad," Dick screamed as his world literally crashed to the floor. He watched from above as a pool of red surrounded their bodies.
Dick Grayson is nine years, two days, seventeen hours, eight minutes, and forty-five seconds old and will never be innocent nor little again. He is completely alone in the world.
Richard Grayson (no longer Little Dick Grayson; no longer childish enough) has been sitting by his parents dead bodies for two hours when Commissioner Gordon informs him of what will happen to him. He's aware that in the past two hours no less than four fights have broken out between the cops and various members of the circus community. He knows that Gordon is just doing his job, but he still can't meet the man's eyes as he hears that he can't stay with the only family he has ever known. Another thing he's aware of is the hand on his shoulder. The man has introduced himself no less than three times, it's as if the man thought he wouldn't know who he is. The entire world knows the name Bruce Wayne. Richard took one more look at his parents and followed Gordon into his car. He caught a glimpse of the sign on the building as they drove through the heavily guarded gate; it read JDC.
Richard Grayson is nine years, two days, nineteen hours, thirty-nine minutes, and eighteen seconds old and was just thrown head first into hell.
One month; Richard Grayson was stuck in JDC for an entire month. It was as if he was suspended in time. Inside the juvenile detention center time moved slowly, the days got rougher and rougher, and the other kids… he shuttered at the thought of them. But, outside the world was moving, rain had started falling, people had moved on, even his parents funeral had happened. Not that he was invited of course. Who in the world would ever have a need for Richard Grayson?
Richard Grayson is nine years, thirty something days, however many hours, a handful of minutes, and some seconds old and honestly just doesn't care anymore.
"Grayson," the guard shouted, "Gather your belongings you're out." Richard looked at the man in confusion. He was shown to room where a semi-familiar man stood.
Richard Grayson is nine years, thirty-four days, sixteen hours, fifty-one minutes, and eighteen seconds old and he was just adopted by a seemingly air headed billionaire with a very large secret.
Click
Robin tossed and turned in his bed. Had anyone been in the room they would have seen the clear distress written across their leaders face. He made a small noise as the dream shifted.
Creak
Richard "Dick" Grayson is fifteen years, twenty-four days, sixteen hours, seven minutes, and fifty-seven seconds old, had been fighting crime as Robin for around six years and is scared out of his mind. (Not that he'd admit it to the psychopath in front of him.)
He had read the note, Bruce Wayne was being held captive around there somewhere. That had to be the only explanation not even Alfred could get a hold of him. Bat rule number one is to always stay in contact. (Technically rule #3) He was checking out the coordinates that were sent to him when he heard a laugh that made his hair stand on end.
"Well, well what do we have here? A little birdie missing a Bat. Bats is around here somewhere right? No?" if possible the Joker's smile got even wider, "Well that simply will not do at all. Don't want to waste a punch line on you, do we? Sleep now little birdie." Robin felt a crushing blow hit the back of his head as his vision went black.
Dick Grayson a.k.a Robin is fifteen years old; surprised he can even remember that much; and ready to die. The maniac in front of him is placing a crowbar onto a table with other random assorted goodies including: several knifes, a blow torch, pliers, a baseball bat, a lighter, and a mystery item he had yet to pull out of his bag.
"Now, now my captive audience you must be just dieing to see my final act!" the Madman said theatrically. Upon hearing this Robin resumed his struggles, trying vainly to get out of his binds. Only to be shocked by a strategically placed joy buzzer. The boy looked up to see Joker holding a gun.
"Say good night Birdie." Joker held the gun, took aim, and
BANG!
Robin woke with a start. He shouldn't of fallen asleep its mistakes like that, that would get him killed. He shivered as the last moments of his dream replayed in his mind. One bullet, that one bullet had changed his life forever.
SNAP!
That one bullet had hit him in the arm. The bullet was through and through; it missed the bone and any major ligaments. He was brought to a doctor in time and he would heal perfectly from every injury, well every injury but one. That fatal blow was dealt by the big man himself. In his crusade for justice Batman had decided Robin was too much of a risk. So, Robin was let go, terminated, told they were going in different directions, however you wanted to phrase it he was fired.
Click
After six years of watching Batman's back, front, and sides he was fired over one little gunshot wound! Anger didn't even begin to describe what he was feeling. There was also some confusion on his part. If Batman didn't want Robin anymore did that mean that Bruce didn't want Dick anymore? There had to be a reason that Bruce hadn't officially adopted him and maybe that was it. Dick had lost so many people over the years that he didn't think he could take any more rejection. He grabbed his costume hopped on his R-Cycle and drove as far away from Gotham as possible.
Creak
Robin drove clear across the country, straight to California. He had wanted to get as far away from Gotham as possible. He went to Jump City for both the distance and the crime rate. He figured that he could just start over and make a name for himself, fate had different plans. He got to know an extraordinary group of people and they formed the team. Robin shook himself out of the past and resumed staring out the window. He stayed that way until dawn.
SNAP!
In a city known as Jump, in the middle of a bay there sits an island. On that island there is a tower and in that tower sits a boy. The boy almost never sleeps; it's not that he doesn't want to. It's just that…that he can't. Instead he spends the nights looking out to the city thinking about times gone by. The boy thinks of his past, his present, and his future. He thinks of all the people he knew, knows, and will ever know again. But most importantly he thinks of them of his loved ones. Of the people that he would never get the chance to meet and know again. It's in these nights that the façade of Robin the infallible boy wonder is dropped and Richard "Dick" Grayson is seen. It's in these moments, in his memories that they will live again.
Click…Creak…
SNAP!
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