Hello guys. My name is TheBlueSwallow and this is my first fanfic that I've decided to post online. Please R&R so I can determine if you want this story to continue or if you want to see something a bit different. Looking forward to joining this awesome community!
I do not own Young Justice in any way because if I did, there would be a season 3 already. I do however, own the OC that is about to be introduced.

_Prologue; From the Beginning
Gotham City, April 1, 20:54, 2006

Dick
This was his first time hitting Gotham City since he had become a performer and he could already tell that this place was a lot darker than the other places on tour. Just walking around the tent before the acts began was enough to give Richard Grayson chills. It seemed so dreary and haunting, no one in the streets at this point in time, with the circus having just started, which made the town looked even creepier. That and he had the feeling someone was watching him from the shadows…
'Sooner we leave the better…'

"…chard? Hello, earth to Richard? Dick!" a loud voice cried into his ear. He yelped at the sudden noise and turned to find a young girl behind him. She was older than Dick by no more than a week, just having turned 10, and had a similar physique to himself. Both he and the girl had small builds but with the right amount of muscle needed of an acrobat. Where his hair was ebony and short, hers was black and tied into a simple braid and while his eyes were bright blue hers were green with flakes of orange and brown, giving her a constant mischievous glint in her eyes.
"Your spacing out again Dick. Be warned I will throw cold water on you again." She claimed leaning her face into his personal space.
"Elianna I have at least half an hour before I go on. Why are you bugging me?" Giving him a sigh, Elianna reached for his and instantly started dragging him towards the back of the tent where most of the performers were waiting.
"You may have that long but I go on in five minutes and you promised that you'd watch me this time. I've gotten better I swear!" she eagerly called finally stopping at the small opening to the tent. He sighed exasperatedly pulling his hand out of hers. Despite him constantly calling her a pain and whatnot, she was his best friend and a promise was a promise.
"Wish me luck Dick or else I'll do bad" she whined but the glint in her eye giving her away. All she wanted from him was his approval and feedback. She just wanted to be like him. Like a Flying Grayson.
"Fine Anna, do your best" calling her by the nickname she hated, immediately getting a glare because of it. He chuckled knowing that he'd pay for that later.

She had improved immensely since the last time that he saw her act, watching her swing, cartwheel and contort her body to her needs, gaining more confidence as the crowd cheered her on. Finally, as she waved the crowd goodbye, she ran back to him, wishing him luck and running off to change into street clothes. He smirked her way, not that she noticed, and headed towards the stage himself.
'I wonder if that means she wants to practice with me again…'

Elianna
Why did everything go so wrong?
This could not be happening. Not now.
She had returned after changing from her street clothes so she could watch Dick perform like she usually did. She admired Dick and his family's passion and complete love for the stage. Despite not being a blood relative, they had helped her find her strengths and told her that with enough training, she could join their performance. She could become a Flying Grayson.
But that dream was over now.
Two dead. Faulty equipment. They always performed with no net; it adds to the excitement. But now…. Gone. Her dream to join them on tour, to become a part of an actual family. Now it would never happen.
But where was Dick?
She looked everywhere for him. The ring. The train. The storage holder. The practice ring. Police were everywhere, performers were gathered together.
But Dick was gone.
Her best friend. Her partner. Gone.

Little did they both know that they would both meet again…in the most difficult of circumstances.

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