You probably should have a fair understanding of comic books backgrounds if you're going to read this. It involves a lot of that. (Wikipedia works if you don't...) Also, this came (once again) from the YJ anon meme, but I lost the prompt. So, if anyone knows where that is... It has one fill already, if that helps.
Finally, this will update every day since I have everything written out, it has short chapters. There may be another version of this at the end, if there is, that's what this was supposed to be originally, but it morphed.
Summary: Robin gets a chance he's always dreamed of: a chance to save his parents. But time travel rarely works out well, and this time is no exception. Now he has to fix things before he simply fades away... Written in 2nd person.
It started (and ended) with a villain from the future. Not even a big-name one, you'd only fought him the once.
Which century? It doesn't matter. You can't remember. You can't remember the villain's name; anything, really, except his face: The way he'd leered and leaned in, close, too close. You'd backed away, you remembered, his breath was foul, stinking of some futuristic delicacy.
You'd heard his raspy voice before, in battle, but now it was soft, almost hypnotizing. Not truly hypnotizing, you don't think, but it had that kind of effect; it reeled you in.
"You have something you want to change, don't you?" He'd said, softly. You'd glared, of course. That was none of his business. "I can help you. Here, take this, you just have to reset to when you want to go to – " And then the police had arrived, and you'd vanished back into the shadows, and there was no time to refuse the small object he'd shoved into your hands.
You studied it, later, when you were supposed to be (finally) falling asleep. You shouldn't trust him. He was a villain. There was no reason he would help you. Accepting this went against everything Batman had ever taught you.
But yet... despite everything, if this small, ordinary-looking pocket watch worked...
You don't think about it any more. The thing's been set to the right time since a minute after you got it, so you just press the button on the side, squeeze your eyes shut, and hope for the best.
It works. Of course. It would have been better if it hadn't, but you don't know that yet, though you already suspect. But you're intentionally crushing that doubt, and under the flood of euphoria that comes from seeing Haley's Circus again (working, still there, fliers for the Flying Graysons plastered everywhere) it nearly goes away completely.