Just Let Me Breathe, a teen titans fanfic

One Shot

Disclaimer: I own Nothing.

"Stupid snot-munching Titans," grumbled the young genius, Gizmo. He and the rest of the Hive Five, now accurately named since Jinx left, were back at their base after a run in with Jump Cities heroes: the Teen Titans.

"Yeah," SeeMore muttered in agreement. "Totally humiliating."

"Shoot, we' always gettin' humiliated by them guys," said one Billy Numerous duplicate.

"Billy's right," agreed another clone. "Wish we could show 'em how it feels."

The others nodded in agreement. Gizmo suddenly perked up with an idea. "Maybe we can." He smirked.

Kyd Wykkyd rose his eyebrow at the small pre-teen. SeeMore nodded at the mute, apparently agreeing. "Seriously, Kyd." Then he turned to Gizmo. "How are we gonna accomplish that?"

"Yeah," Mammoth also asked. "You know a way to beat them?"

Gizmo sighed and shook his head. "We can't beat them, but we can humiliate them."

Everyone looked to Gizmo with full attention now, waiting for him to explain. He reached into his mechanical backpack and pulled out some blue prints, spreading them out so that everyone got a good look.

"I only drew out the schematics so far since this can't really be used for breaking into banks or anything, but with Warp's help it wouldn't take me long to make. We can test it on a Titan, and get our sweet revenge."

"What does it do?" A Billy Numerous asked.

"And why do you need Warp?" SeeMore asked as well.

"We need Warp because it'll be similar to Warp's time traveling tech. What it does is look into the victim's mind and finds their worst fear. Then it shows the reason why; this is where Warp's tech comes in. Lets say that the victim is afraid of spiders: this little baby will locate that fear in the person's mind and find the date and time that they got that fear, it'll then display it to us in third person point of view because it'll be basically ripping a 'window' into the past so that we can see it. So, if they're afraid of spiders, it might open up a 'window' on the time when they were five and a spider crawled on them for the first time or something."

"Why can't we just see it from their mind?" Mammoth asked. It seemed like it would be much simpler to do it that way.

Gizmo rolled his eyes. "Not everyone can remember exactly why they're afraid of something. They remember that they are, and the machine uses mathamatical analysis to determine the exact time when - like going into the mind and calculating that the person started fearing spiders twenty four thousand eight hundred sixty four days ago, but cannot find the memory of exactly why. And even if the person did remember, people tend to over-exaggerate, or forget certain parts of their memory. Actually going back in time will show things more accurately."

He was met with no more complaints or questions after that. So the miniature inventor went to contact Warp, and the rest of the Hive went to contact everyone else. It was their turn to brag and show off their revenge against the Titans.

Gizmo and Warp finished the device a few days later. Warp left soon after, he regrettably couldn't stay, having business to attend to, but asked to know how everything turned out.

The other members of the Hive Five called all of their friends inviting them to the show, whenever Gizmo was finished. Because it can only be used on one person at a time, they had agreed to first use the device on the bane of all of their existences - Robin. Almost everyone agreed to attend.

That is how many of the teenage villains of Jump City found their Friday night occupied; all of them at the Hive Five's base talking, eating, fighting and waiting.

Waiting for Kyd Wykkyd to teleport into Titan's Tower, use the device on Robin, and then bring it back to the base to watch. They didn't have to wait long, he teleported back in with a grin. SeeMore was the first to see him and ran over.

"Went well?" The cyclops asked. The mute nodded and held up the machine - a small, black cube looking device.

"Sweet," SeeMore grinned.

Gizmo ran over to them and grabbed it. "I'll start setting it up." Billy duplicates saw Gizmo and started gathering people into the living room area, while Gizmo hooked the device up to the gigantic flat screen.

"Come on yall, we're 'bout to start. An' I know none o' ya wanna miss this." Billy called to the crowd of teenagers who were chatting excitedly. "Ready Giz?"

The young genius finished up what he was doing and gave a thumbs up. The room went dark and the screen flashed.

A class-like scene appeared with many young children, ranging from about six to twelve, speaking in hushed whispers. They were all dressed in white karate uniforms, all at different belt levels. Seeing as how parents were slowly arriving to collect their children, class had ended and the students were now chatting amongst themselves. The strange thing was the whispering; there was clearly no need for it if class was over.

The scene zoomed into a young boy who didn't even look ten yet, with black hair and light blue eyes, and a red belt. He was next to a young blonde haired, hazel eyed girl with a yellow belt who looked about his age.

"Aren't you afraid, Dick?" She asked him. "They could take anyone! You, me..."

He put his hands on her shoulders to calm her down. "Charlotte, relax. Breathe. Just be on your toes. They'll catch him soon."

She took a breath. "I hope so. I have a bad feeling-"

"You should!" Shouted a voice off screen. The owner of the voice ran up to the two and skidded to a halt just before he missed them. He was an older boy, taller, thin and lanky with ginger hair and stormy blue eyes.

"What makes you say that?" Robin asked. Both he and Charlotte had an annoyed look on their faces; the same face that the other villains get whenever Control Freak comes and around and tries to be buddy-buddy with them.

"Psh, don't you watch horror movies?!" He practically screamed at them. Charlotte discreetly rolled her eyes and uttered 'here we go again'. The kid didn't notice and continued with his explanation. "The only characters who make it out alive are the ones who know that they are in danger! Even when it defies all logic they listen to their gut feelings and are able to face off against the killer and win."

"I don't want to face off against the killer!" Charlotte screamed as she stamped her foot.

"Too bad, you're a main character!" He screamed right back.

Robin got in between them and faced the ginger. "Who says she's a main character?"

He older boy smirked. "So are you. I can tell these things. Besides, you can't tell me that you haven't noticed: all of the victims are between eight and eleven, they all go to our school, they all hang around this neighborhood, they all were involved in some kind of extra curricular activity..."

"So what? A lot of kids fit that criteria." Robin asked.

"I'm not denying that. There are a lot of main characters. All I'm saying is that you two fit the bill, so you're both in a movie, my friend."

"And you think you don't, Tony?" Charlotte asked.

The red haired bot, now identified as 'Tony', shrugged. "I don't think so, but only because I think I went passed the age limit on this guy's preferences. I mean, I'm almost thirteen and the police thought he was stretching it with the eleven year old. If anything I'm a supporting character that either doesn't play a big role, or that get's killed off. Hoping it's the first."

The younger two sighed and watched Tony walk away. Most of the other kids were gone now, and those who weren't were literally just about out the door, themselves. Robin and Charlotte just stood there silently in their own little worlds. A sudden voice broke them from their thoughts.

"Richard, Charlotte, still here?"

They turned to view a man with blond hair, probably in his thirties, dressed in a suit by the door.

"Hey, Mr. Perkins." Robin greeted. Charlotte chiming in a little 'hi' after him. "What are you doing here?"

"Ah, I'm just delivering some papers here to Mr. Yoon. The school is making arrangements with him to start an after school karate club and he needs to look over the documents. Is he here?"

"Um, I think he's in the back," Charlotte said.

The man smiled. "Thanks kids. Hey, I just back from the Art Club's bake sale, they were cleaning up and I snagged an entire gallon of fruit punch and some doughnuts that they couldn't sell. They're in the car, should be some plastic cups too, go get some and help yourselves while you're waiting here."

They beamed at him. "Thanks Mr. Perkins," they chorused. They can out to the unlocked car outside and came back to the now empty room with the food and drinks. Mr. Perkins was still in the back as they ate and drank.

As the minutes ticked by the two became more silent and less lively. Each began to slouch in their seats and soon passed out within a matter of minutes.

Mr. Perkins came back out and smirked. "Perfect." He went over and picked up Robin. "You have no idea of how long I've been planning this."

With that last statement he left Charlotte lying unconscious, put Robin in his car and drove away.

The drive lasted for a few minutes before pulling into the driveway of an outwardly ordinary looking house... On the inside, however, it looked like a funeral parlor. There were coffins of all shapes and sizes lining the room, chemicals on shelves on the wall, and documents spread all over.

He carried the past boy wonder to an open dark wooden casket lying on a table and laid him inside. He then grabbed a flash light and a walkie talkie, placing them inside the coffin as well. A large air tank was added, next.

He stepped back and admired his work. He smiled and walked over to the casket and closed the lid, locking it with a pad lock.

He dropped off the casket to a remote part of a cemetery and left a few papers on top of it before leaving. As he left he saw a couple of men enter the scene, examine the papers and nod to each other. They began to plant and bury the coffin in the ground, away from prying eyes. Mr. Perkins then made his way across town with a brown box and dropped it off in front of the Gotham City Police Department. He chuckled as he saw a random police man shout that 'another one came' and run inside with it.

"Let the game begin."

Robin awakened a while later to nothing but darkness. He was obviously confused. He remembered being at karate class but then it was all a blur. He couldn't be in his room, the surface was too flat to be his bed. He tried to move around but was met with cramped 'walls'. His eyes widened and he tentatively reached a hand up and was met with a surface. He knew where was. He knew that he had been taken by The Undertaker - a madman who is known to abduct children and bury them alive. It's a game he plays with the police: find the victim before their air runs out as he gives them vague clues and mocks them in their attempts.

He was panicking at this point and didn't care about conserving air. He took a breath and screamed for help at the top of his lungs. In his mind he knew it was hopeless. He was probably six feet under by now; no one would be able to hear him scream. He started scratching on the wooden surface above him, desperately clawing at it with his nails and grinding them down past the skin. Even after they started to bleed he ignored them and continued. Next he tried pounding on the wood using his fists and using his legs to kick as hard as he could from his position.

After a few minutes of continued attacks he did emit a sort of crack in the wood, but as he began to peel away the wooden layer, he was crestfallen to discover that this casket had a second layer of, not wood, but metal. He lay there breathing heavily, with wide eyes staring up at the darkness and feeling the cool metal on his finger tips.

He laid there long enough that he finally calmed and caught his breath. He then felt around the coffin, trying to find a way out. His hand bumped into an object, but in the pitch black he could not make it out. He felt it over and realized that it was a flash light. He clicked it on and was immediately spooked, the reality of being trapped inside of a coffin was much more real to him now. He was very tempted to turn it back off, but he soon spotted another object and turned away from the thought.

The second object was a walkie talkie, he quickly turned it on. "Hello?" He asked into it. "Hello, is anyone there?"

The response was immediate. "Hello! Hello! Sweetie, please speak again." It was a woman on the other end, she sounded professional.

"I'm here," Robin answered her.

The woman on the other end took a shaky breath. "What's you're name, sweet heart?"

He hesitated for some reason. When he did the woman continued. "It's okay. I'm detective Larson, but you can call me Jenny, okay. Can you tell me your name?"

Robin nodded although he knew that she couldn't see it. "Richard. But, everyone calls me Dick."

"Okay, Dick, thank you. Now, I need you not to panic, okay. Do you know where you are?"

Robin's slightly excited demeanor deflated. "He got me," he uttered sadly. "I'm in a coffin..."

"It's okay. Everything will be alright. Don't panic."

"I already panicked, I think I'll be okay for a while."

The other end was silent for a moment before clearing her throat and speaking again. "Do you remember where you were and what you were doing before?"

He had to think about that. "I-I know that I was at Karate. It was the end of class and I was talking with-with... Charlotte?"

"Good, good. Do you remember anything else?"

Robin shook his head. "No, everything's fuzzy. I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry, and don't worry. We'll get through this, Dick."

At the other end of the city at the Gotham City Police Department (GCPD) Detective Myers was speaking to Police Chief Swartz about the most recent kidnapping by The Undertaker and puzzling over the clues that were left.

"Jennifer is trying to calm the boy down as we speak. Like the other victims, he probably doesn't remember anything," Myers was saying.

"What about the girl? She was bright enough to realize that something wasn't right when she woke up, and she was right about her friend." the chief answered back.

The detective shook his head. "She's trying, but I doubt that she'll be successful."

Swarts nodded glumly. "We need to catch this fucker. Haven't forensics turned up anything?"

"No," Myers said. "Clean. Just like all of the other cases."

"What about the 'clues'?" Swartz asked.

"Jean said that the first one is obvious," Myers said as he set several photos on the table. The first one was of young children at the playground, the second was of children in a classroom, taken from outside the door, and the third was of a group of children smiling outside of a school. "Even though the kids, even the ones on the last one, don't remember someone taking their picture, we can easily conclude that he has the ability to see, get to, and talk to children easily. Whether he's someone who works with kids, or someone who just looks very trusting, we're not sure. But he's clearly mocking us; he's saying 'I can get to them whenever I want and you can't stop me'."

The chief 'hmmed' and closed his eyes in thought. "And the second clue?"

"We're not sure, Sir." Myers sighed.

"Well, get on it. We don't have much time." Swartz almost yelled.

"And when the third clue comes..." Myers asked.

"We'll cross that bridge when we come to it."

"Let's keep talking, shall we?" Detective Larson told Robin.

"Alright." The boy responded quietly.

"Good, okay. Let's just keep it simple. How old are you, Dick?" She asked.

"Nine." His tone still quiet.

"Oh wow, you sure are calm for your age in this situation, you know that?" She said gently.

"I suppose." He attempted to shrug from his position, regardless of the fact that Jenny couldn't see it.

"Where do you go to school?" She continued.

"Franklin Avenue, Elementary."

"I see," she paused, trying to think of more to ask. "How do you like school? Tell me all about it: what are your favorite subjects, who are your favorite teachers?"

"It's alright. It's better than the Catholic school I could have gone to." He said a little bitterly.

"I take it you have some issue with those kind of schools." She asked.

"I was sent to a Catholic orphanage at one point. Nuns don't really care for me because of my origin."

Detective Larson knew that it would be best to back away from this subject. "So what about classes?"

"I don't mind most classes, but for a favorite, I guess I like English. Mrs. Moris says I'm a good writer, especially my free-writes. Kind of funny since English isn't my first language."

Jenny was about to ask him more about that, but he kept talking before she could.

"I also like art. I'm no artist, not really, but I still like the class. Ms. Reyis is crazy, but in a good way. She's 'wacky' as she calls herself," he chuckled a bit.

"Like, Julie West a few months ago basically drew a naked lady - it wasn't detailed, like she didn't actually draw the details, she just didn't have any clothes on; you know, like a doll. Anyway, instead of freaking out and calling down the principal, she just asked Julie about it. 'Why did you feel like drawing her this way?' 'Is this a type of art you like?' 'What does this symbolize?' And Julie just answered her. And Ms. Reyis told her that while this kind of art is fine to do, it's better to do when she's older and asked her if she could draw something to cover the 'parts' even if they weren't detailed. She's really open and understanding. ... And she always finds her retro old stuff and let's us have it, if we want it. I got a key chain with a preserved tiny scorpion in it, it's really cool."

Jenny smiled and listened. Robin seemed much more calm and comfortable now and she wanted to keep it that way. "Any other teachers as cool as Ms. Reyis?"

"Um... Not a teacher, but Mr. Perkins can be pretty cool sometimes. He always visits the school." He said.

"Mr. Perkins?" Detective Larson questioned. She didn't recognize the name as anyone related to the school system.

"Yeah, he's a volunteer for school and after school things and is always helping out teachers and stuff. He likes to talk to and play with students too. He's known to give away candy or something if you're lucky. I've gotten stuff from him before."

"Really?" Detective Larson couldn't explain it but she wanted to know more about this person. "He definitely seems nice. Do you know his first name?"

Robin paused to try to remember. "I think it's... Dave? No, Dale. Dale Perkins."

Larson took a pen and wrote it down on a loose sheet of paper. "Alright. Thank you, Dick."

"Mhm. Luckily I remember. Most people don't even call him Mr. Perkins." He said.

"Oh really? What do they call him?" Back to small talk to keep calm.

"Freddy."

Detective Larson's eyes widened. "Freddy? Like, 'Freddy Krueger'?"

"Yeah, I guess" Robin replied. "He said that his friends nicknamed him Freddy as a private joke, but he likes it, so people call him that."

"...I see. That's very interesting. And you say that he's always around the school and such." She asked quietly.

"Yeah." Robin now knew that something was up. "What's wrong?"

"Just, something that I remembered." She stood up and held a determined expression. "Sweet heart, would you hold on for a minute? I'm going to put Detective Neil Harding on, okay. I need you to talk to him for a bit while I go take care of something."

"Sure," Robin said. His voice was still suspicious but he let her go. For now.

"Sir?"

"What is it, detective Larson?" The chief asked from behind his desk where multiple papers hid the entire top of it.

"May I see the second clue?" She reached out a hand for it. He nodded and handed it to her.

"Any ideas about it?" He asked.

She studied the paper - an image of Freddy Krueger with photoshopped images of each previous victims surrounding him in the background.

"We checked every 'Krueger' and 'Fred' variation in the entire town and we still don't have out perp." Swartz told her. "Forensics double checked all of the bodies too, he never touched any of them sexually, so that can't be the connection either. And just in case this guy is a meta-human, we checked with the families, and none of the kids were having nightmares. So we're at a dead end."

She gathered her thoughts before she spoke. "The child, Dick, mentioned something interesting to me." She looked up at her boss.

He kept silent, urging her to continue. "He told me about a volunteer for school activities who is always around and playing with the kids. Said that he even gives them candy sometimes. ...I know that the paranoia that I felt about that comes from my job, but I asked for his name and wrote it down anyway."

He took a breath and was about to remind her that not everyone is like that is a pedophile or a child killer, but she put her hand up. "Let me finish."

He sighed but allowed it. "I've done this before, and after I've had time to calm down, I usually don't worry about it after that day. But, he said something that reminded me of the second clue."

Swartz raised an eyebrow.

"He said that he was lucky that he even remembered the guy's real name because apparently almost everyone calls him 'Freddy'. Look I know that it's a long shot, but please, for my nerves and for the sake of maybe getting a step ahead in this case, can we investigate this lead? We have no trail anyway."

The chief shook his head but answered, "What's this guy's name?"

"Dale Perkins."

"Charlotte?" Another detective - an older woman named Frieda Darwin - sat questioning the young girl. "Do you know a man named Dale Perkins?"

She nodded. "Yeah, I know Mr. Perkins. What about him?"

"What do you think of him?" Detective Darwin asked.

Charlotte shrugged. "He's nice, I guess."

"You don't sound very fond of him," The detective pressed.

"No, it's not that he's mean or anything. It's just that, well, he kind of gives me the creeps. Ya know, when you talk to someone and they just make you... make you... um."

"Uncomfortable?"

"Yeah. But there's no real reason why." Charlotte finished.

"I see. Do you remember seeing Mr. Perkins at all today?" Darwin asked.

"Not that I remember. But, I don't know what happened after Karate class started to end, so..." She frowned and looked at her lap.

"It's okay, dear." The detective put a hand on her shoulder. "Feel proud of yourself that you realized that something wasn't right."

She nodded, then peered back up at Darwin. "Why did you ask about Mr. Perkins? Do you think he did it?"

"We can't be sure. We're just following a weak lead," Darwin thought for a moment. "You think that we shouldn't be?"

"Personally," Charlotte said. "No. I think you should follow it. I know that there's no proof, but of all the people I know, I think Mr. Perkins is the shadiest. Even if he does give you stuff."

The detective wasn't sure what to make of the interview but decided that enough was enough, for now. "Come on, Charlotte. Let's go get a soda, shall we?"

"This is the address?" One detective asked the other.

"Yup." The other one replied.

They walked up to the front door and knocked. No answer.

"Mr. Perkins!" One yelled at the door. "We would like a word."

Still no answer.

The other detective was about to radio the station when suddenly a loud 'bang' was heard from inside the house. The two officers sprang up and took out their guns.

"You think it was a gun shot?"

"Dunno. We'll kick open the door in three. One. Two. Three!"

Both simultaneously kicked the door and it opened. They rushed inside, through the living room and into another room, they stopped dead in their tracks stared open mouthed at the site before them: coffins everywhere. And apparently the 'gun shot' was actually the loose lid of a casket accidentally slamming onto the floor. The man bending over to pick it up, whom they assumed was Mr. Perkins, smiled smugly at them.

"Hello officers, what can I do for you?"

"Alright scum, you'd better talk or else-"

"Or else what? You don't have enough evidence to hold me." Perkins' voice mocked.

"Your home looks like a funeral parlor, which would explain why all of the victims were found in coffins." Detective Larson said.

"A hobby. I love the beauty of custom-made caskets. You certainly couldn't charge me for being a bit odd, could you?" He stated, rather than asked.

"You're known to have easy access to children in the neighborhood." The detective continued.

"There are many people who are able to be around children - teachers, coaches, neighbors... why aren't they being interviewed?"

Larson grit his teeth. "We did!"

Perkins smiled. "Than, I'm sure that I'll be found just as innocent as they were."

"We have witnesses that confirmed that they saw you near the area that the boy was last seen-"

"Circumstance. I had business in that area."

He folded his hands on the table. "Like I said, you have nothing to hold me with."

A knock on the one-way mirror interrupted the two. The detective next to Larson stood and stuck his head out the door. He returned half a minute later.

"Mr. Perkins, we had obtained a search warrant for your house. They found a box full of images. The same type of box that the killer is known to send to the police containing 'clues' about the kidnapping."

He shrugged "I'm sure that those boxes are attainable anywhere. I got mine from the post office."

Both glared at the man, neither liked the aura that he gave off. Both were sure that he was the culprit but at this rate couldn't prove it.

"Besides, what did you find in the box?" Perkins continued.

"Pictures of crows..." The detective said nervously.

"Ah," Perkins nodded. "And how exactly would that connect me to the kidnapping of this poor child?"

Larson slammed his hands down on the table. "The same way all of the other clues managed to magically, fucking connect! Through some sick and twisted means that no one's but your brain could possibly understand!"

Detective Larson took a breath and tried to calm down.

"By the way, that leaves me curious. How in the world did your sources manage to connect some vague secret message to me? I am not your killer, but I am an intelligent conclusion to come to."

He smirked. "Did you have the boy come up with the answer?"

Detective Larson kept a stern face, but his partner next to him wasn't so conspicuous.

Perkins laughed out loud now. "He did, didn't he! Ah ha ha, the 'brilliant' detectives at the Gotham City Police Department left it to a child to solve the case for them."

Larson glared. "Was that a confession?"

"You wish."

"Detective Jenny?" Robin asked.

He and the detective had been talking, both trying to stay calm, while the other officers tried to grill Perkins into a confession.

Detective Larson was tense, she knew from past experience that there wasn't much time left before the air tank ran out. She didn't want Dick to know how nervous she really was though. She didn't want to loose another child, especially after actually getting someone in custody.

"Yes, Dick?"

"I'm going to die aren't I?"

He stated it so calmly that at first Larson was too stunned to answer him. She swallowed, her mouth having gone dry at the thought of this bright, sweet-hearted child not making it.

"Don't think that way! We're going to get you out of there. Please just hang on as long as you can."

She didn't want him to doubt that they would find him, but it seemed that he already was at that point. She felt like breaking down and crying right then and there. But she willed herself to stay strong.

"Can you tell me about the clues?" Robin said suddenly.

"What?" The detective was at a loss as to why he would want to hear about them.

"The media says that The Undertaker makes a game out of this by sending the police clues. Can you tell me about the clues he used for me?"

Jennifer Larson knew that this wasn't protocol, she would never have told a civilian anything about a case, but considering the circumstances... She didn't believe that Dick would make it out alive anyway. She sighed sadly at the thought, but decided to tell him.

"The first clue were numerous pictures of children all taken while the children were at school, or in the local playground. The second was an image of Freddy Krueger where images of each previous victims were photoshopped in the background. The third - well, assuming that the guy we have in custody is him, - we found a box, similar to the ones that The Undertaker sends, full of pictures of crows. The first two we got - the second actually with your help. I'm afraid that the supposed third clue has us stumped." She finished honestly.

Robin was silent for a few minutes. Larson was afraid that the now sullen atmosphere had him upset with her, because now he knew that he wouldn't be found any time soon.

So she was surprised when he spoke.

"Obviously the first one is telling you that he knows, or is around kids. The second one... if it is Mr. Perkins, makes sense. But the third one... maybe..."

"Maybe?" Detective Larson asked. She wasn't above asking a nine year old for help, it pretty much worked before.

"Detective Jenny, have you ever heard of a place called 'The Field'?"

She hadn't. "No, I haven't, I'm afraid."

"Well, it's not really called that. That's just what people in high school call it. It's this big corn field, it belongs to a farm on the other side of Gotham. A lot of people go in there to make out and stuff. Me and Charlotte know because we heard her sister, Laura, talking about it to a friend. She said that she and this guy named Kyle want to head over there, but she was worried about the crows. Apparently, some people also call it 'Crow Field' because they're everywhere over there and sometimes they attack you. But anyway,"

Robin continued, "We asked Laura about it because Charlotte wanted to go and look at the crows, but Laura said that the farm was private property and Charlotte couldn't go because she would have to sneak in, like Laura. Laura, she said the farm was called 'Jame's place Farm'. I know that there's a town called St. James in Gotham, and I know the school and the hospital there are called St. James. Do you think that it could have a cemetery called that, too?"

Detective Larson's mouth was hanging open by the time Robin's explanation was done. Another weak lead but it could still be something!

"There might be, Dick." She couldn't help the excitement that leaked into her voice. "I'll contact the chief with your idea, I'll try to convince him to go along with it. In the mean time, another officer will take over talking to you, okay?"

"Okay. But Detective Jenny?" He asked quietly. "Could you hurry? I don't know how much air I have left, and I feel kind of Dizzy."

xXx

"Please, sir! Just check it out." Detective Larson had told Chief Swartz about Robin's idea. GCPD's chief was skeptical though.

"Jennifer-"

"Chief! The kid led us to a prime suspect by accident. His deductions are thorough for his age, and he's mostly been calm throughout this whole ordeal. I think that says a lot. Let's just try, we don't have anything to loose." She argued.

Swartz sighed. "Run your idea by Commissioner Gordon and see what he says."

Commissioner James Gordon wasn't like other people who would have laughed in their detective's face about the suggestion of following a child's analytical lead. Working with a man in a bat suit tended to open one's mind to such things, so he consented to Detective Larson's suggestion.

A team of officers and medical personnel made their way to St. James Cemetery, having contacted the owner before coming, they were going to meet with him and check every new grave with the roster of who was buried within the last several hours.

This was a task that would take a few hours., but they worked as quickly as they could. Detective Larson kept the walkie talkie with her and spoke to Dick as they made their way around.

"Jenny," Robin kept taking staggering breaths. "I hope - breath - you're close.- breath."

"I know," Detective Larson whispered. "Dick, just try to stay with me. We're moving as fast as we can."

The gasps of Robin struggling to breathe was the only sound for a few minutes. The thought of the boy's lungs searching for fresh air, while being forced to breathe in stale, used air, coupled with the actual sound effects had her urging her fellow officers to move faster.

"-Gasp - Jenny. I - breath- don't think I - breath, cough - 'm -cough - gonna make it." Dick's statement had tears forming in her eyes.

"No, you're going to be fine. Don't worry." She tried to assure him.

"Jenny," his voice was a whisper.

"Dick?" She called.

No answer.

"Dick!"

Inside the coffin Robin was still alive but the oxygen tank had run out and he had been breathing in his own CO2. His lungs hurt, he kept gasping for breath; his lungs looking for fresh air and coughing when none would come.

He was light-headed and dizzy. He knew that soon he would pass out, but he wasn't sure how long he would last from there. He felt bad for Detective Larson but it hurt so much to breathe, let alone talk.

He wasn't even sure if his eyes were open or closed. His flashlight had started to run low on juice a while ago, and he turned it off because he didn't care to be reminded of where he was, anyway.

So here he laid in pitch darkness, gasping for breath, while detective Larson's voice through the walkie talkie fell on deaf ears.

Finally, he lost consciousness.

Detective Larson wasn't sure she had ever prayed or cried so hard in her life. Sure the deaths of the other children hit her hard, but this one, they were just so close to finding him. If they didn't, she'd be heart-broken.

"We've got something!" Another officer's voice interrupted her thoughts.

She looked over. An unmarked grave with fresh soil was being pointed to. It was in a secluded area, covered by trees.

The owner re-checked the roster. "Yeah, this one is more suspicious. Ya see, this says that someone was buried there earlier today and should have no grave. However, there is no contact information for the deceased. Even a 'John Doe' would have had the morgue, or someone in the contact information. Go ahead and dig it up, and if we were mistaken, well, there's no one to apologize to anyway; no contact info."

Several officers stayed with the crew who was called over to dig, while the others went off to keep checking. Those staying would radio the others after they dug up the grave. Detective Larson stayed, praying that this was the right one.

The machines quickly did their job and the grave was hoisted out of the hole. As soon as they pulled it out, Larson knew this was the right one: there was a pad lock built into its side.

All of the officers were called back over. They took a heavy object and broke the pad lock. The casket was opened to find their victim.

He was very still and didn't appear to be breathing. He was taken out and placed on the ground. Detective Larson rushed over with the medical personnel.

They checked his pulse: his heart wasn't beating, not even faintly.

One of them asked Larson if she knew CPR; she did. He told her to perform it while they set up the Defibrillator in an attempted to start his heart up again.

Larson did her best for several moments trying to force oxygen into the boy's lungs and start his heart, but so far it didn't seem to be helping. Two medics quickly assembled the Defibrillator, while another produced an oxygen mask for the victim and pushed the detective out of the way.

"Clear!" The one medic called as he used the device on Robin's chest. His heart still didn't start, even as air was forced into his lungs.

He tried again. "Clear!" Zap. But the heart monitor on the device still showed nothing but a flat-line.

"Come on, come on one more time," the one medic spoke to himself. "One. Two. Three.-"

Detective Larson held her breath as she prayed to God to please save this child. To please not let her loose another one, especially after they found him.

"CLEAR!" Their last shot at a miracle.

Zap.

... Beep.

It was so faint she almost missed it.

Beep.

There came another one.

Beep... beep ... beep...

She could have cried, and perhaps she even started to without realizing it. She paid no attention to herself however; only to the beautiful beeping of the machine as it measured Dick's now present heartbeat.

The boy suddenly gasped in a deep, shuddered breath, and started to cough. The medical personnel took care of the boy as Larson fell to her knees and wept - the climax was technically over, but now more then ever was she loosing control of her emotions. She cried in both relief and pain; she both thanked the Lord and cursed the man that started all of this; and she finally broke down even as the weight of the drama was lifted off of her chest.

As the medics took Dick away, she ran back to her car to meet them at the hospital.

Detective Larson was there, falling asleep upright in a chair, when Robin awoke. At first, he was confused as to who this stranger could be, but when he saw her hand clutching the walkie talkie, he knew it must be Detective Jenny.

He tried to sit up more and grunted when his hands - wrapped in bandages because of all of the hitting and scratching he had done before - were positioned painfully.

Larson awakened at the sound of his displeasure. "Dick, are you okay?" She asked in slightly slurred tone.

"Yeah, I'm okay... Detective Jenny?"

She nodded in confirmation. He smiled for half a second and then laid his head back down on the pillows.

"I don't think I like enclosed spaces anymore."

Xxxx

The screen went blank. Everyone was silent for a few minutes, because honestly: who would have expected anything like that?

"Maybe we should try a different Titan."

Truthfully, I've had this idea for a while. I started typing this around April 2013, and I just typed several paragraphs when I found inspiration. It's now finished, and finally made it to Fanfiction... about a year and 4 months later. ^^" Good thing it's a oneshot, no?

If anyone would like to continue this, use the idea as inspiration, or whatever: please be my guest. :)