She gave him one last smile before leaping off the platform. He watched as her body arched across the sky, swinging by the trapeze, flying to meet his dad.
Richard grinned, rubbing his hands together like bad guys do in movies. He stepped forward, the metal platform cold under his bare feet. He silently counted down the seconds until his father would grab him and bring him into their act.
Five.
His father and mother swung backwards in a wide arc.
Four.
The trapeze snapped forward, swinging them towards each other. Doing flips midair, they grabbed each other's trapeze bars, swinging themselves opposite directions.
Three.
His father swung upwards to meet Richard, a confident smile on his face. This was a familiar routine, the one they were best at. He knew, they all knew it was safe. Richard spread out his hands to grab his father's.
Two.
His dad was above him now, pulled by the trapeze. He let go of one hand, and reached out horizontally, so he could grab Richard on that half second window.
One.
The ropes snapped.
There was a twack sound. The ropes split into two parts, science hurling them outward like a drop of ink in water.
For a split second, his parents' bodies hung in the air, faces an image of vague surprise, their hands clutched tightly in the broken and useless remains of the trapeze.
Then they began to fall.
Dick could remember screaming, just screaming until his lungs felt like they were about to fall off, and his throat was on fire. He could remember the howl of wind. He could remember the panic that threatened to overwhelm him, mixed with anger at himself for not being able to fly down and catch them, and the vain hope that they would somehow survive this, or there was someone below to catch them. He could remember feeling the fear on his parents' face as they free-fell to their deaths.
He could hear the sickening crash as their bodies hit the ground.
Peering over the edge of the platform at them, he gazed at their lifeless bodies arranged in an expanding pool of crimson, feeling numb with shock. He scrambled downward, rushing forwards to hug their cold corpses, to desperately cry for his mother. As the securities gaurds took him away, he scrambled over their hold, using their shoulders and heads for leverage points.
The day of the Graysons' funeral, rain was pouring from the skies. Dick couldn't remember any of it. He only knew one thing: he would never be like them. He would not fall, crash onto the ground, helpless to do nothing but wait to die. He would never fall. He would fly. He would never be like them.
And he felt ashamed.
But when Batman introduced him to the world of superheroes (and just heroes), and asked what he wanted his alias to be, Dick hadn't hesistated.
"Robin."
...And zat, ladies and gentlemen, is my interpretation of how Robin got his name.
Disclaimer-that-should-really-have-been-on-top-but-I'm-too-lazy-to-change-it: I do not own YJ.
Zis is Part Two of ze Batfam fics. (No idea why I have a French accent. *Not judging*) More on the way! :)