This is a really old idea, like, last year old. That's why the idea is kind of crappy. But… you know… boredom. I want to get back up to 200 and stupidity helps. I decided to make the woman in the picture hot because… well, let's face it. If she wasn't hot, Wally wouldn't have been interested. Just think, maybe this picture was old? Or maybe the woman was young for someone of her title. The third paragraph should give her away, but just in case… It's not Willy Wonka or Bo Burnham in drag. It could be Trey Parker and Matt Stone in drag because I have to admit, they look boneriffic in dresses, but they were stoned out of their minds so I'm not sure...

And lastly, because I've seemed to attract haters, allow me to increase the crowd of them! Justin Bieber, our lovely drummer, beat boxer and break dancer, sounds h-o-t-t in his new song, Boyfriend. That low whispery voice is like chocolate, but his falsetto makes my heart skip a beat every time. I admittedly listened to it while I typed the first half of this. The other half was dedicated to "Nerds" by Bo Burnham, a horribly depressing song, or at least to me, about the unpopular kids and how we're ignored by the pretty girls and boys. *cough BRI I LOVE YOU cough*

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

They say a picture's worth a thousand words, so that alone should demonstrate a photograph's single handed power; its unstated abilities that it potentially holds behind the laminated picture cover, so much meaning, emotion and purpose behind certain snaps that have a lot more strength than they're given credit for. Every once in a while though, there comes to be one picture that can simply ruin the day or the life of another simply by making the photo go to the public which is one of the worst fates you can condemn someone to.

Some times, a photo can be dangerous without one's knowing. It can hint at a past secret that one never wanted to be unearthed, it can bring up a face that strikes up the worst kind of emotional pain, it can bring back memories that bring one close to the unjust desire to end one's life yet again and other worse circumstances, all because their eyes laid on this one particular picture. Even just a face can be deadly, just like the one in the picture in Wally's hands. He was oblivious to the pain that would come about with him bringing about the photo, but there was something about the picture that caught his eye.

All that rested inside the frame was a woman. She was thin with a light muscle tone, her curves clearly defined by her skin tight green dress with the short little ruffles around the tops of her thighs. It cut off at her shoulders, a yellow cursive G across her chest. The area from her wrist to her elbow was bound in tight white bandage, her pale fingers curled around the trim of her dress. Her brown hair was tied down into a low ponytail at the nape of her neck, two locks of hair having swept free of the ponytail, hanging down into her dark blue eyes.

The woman was without a name, the only form of identification or mark of ownership on the back being a simple pen-scrawled 'DG' in bouncy letters. The picture itself was creased, as if it was held in a tightly clenched fist, but the flaws to the cover only made the subject that much more appealing to the emerald eyes that beamed down on her. A heart desperately raced, eager to know why such a babe was hiding in Robin's dresser drawer beneath the false bottom he had nearly over-looked. He couldn't just ask though because then Robin would know he had been snooping.

There were several ways he could've gone about identifying her without actually having to consult his favorite birdy. He could've searched the internet until he lost all feeling in his fingers. He could've asked around Gotham until his feet were nubs. He could've called up Haley's Circus and asked around until his vocal chords were one frayed mess of strings. He could've had someone else ask Robin. Those were the shortcuts and despite his name, the speedster refused to take the quick way to finding out who this babe was. He wanted to get complicated, and he knew the perfect way.

Robin sat alone in the kitchen, the way he preferred it for now, his ankles crossed under him in the barstool he occupied. He held his head up with his hand, absently drinking a tall glass of orange juice through a thin white straw that had an even thinner red line up one side. His black hair hung down over his shades, making his hidden depression just that much more obvious. He didn't have the mental strength to even make a smile, keeping his eyes closed and trying to drift off to a world where bad orange juice was his only worry. Or pulp.

His heart felt as if its parents had been a regular organ and Iron Man. The skin was unbelievably heavy, weighing his chest down and keeping his stomach from the regular happy spikes that gave him the energy he needed to giggle and play ninja with the others. He just found out Bruce was working on his birthday. That was one of the last things he wanted to hear. He wanted to spend his birthday with what was left of the family he didn't have, but it looked as if he'd be spending another birthday alone and depressed. He wasn't surprised of course, but that didn't stop it from hurting.

Wally saw how wounded his best friend was; everything from the slumped shoulders to the overall dark aura, but he still bolted up to the little ebony, excited. His emerald eyes gleamed happily, a smile wide over his lips. Even his freckles seemed to glint with happiness, only worsening Robin's heartache.

"Hey Robbie…" Wally hugged his friend lightly, his voice soft and echous. "Some lady's here for you. Real babe too!"

Robin's eyebrows furrowed in confusion, beyond his normal levels of befuddlement, but curiosity peaked over everything else. It gave him reason to hop down from the chair, still holding his glass of orange juice as he walked after the ginger.

"Babs?" he asked hopefully, staring holes in his best friend with the assumption that an answer would fall from the newly made gaps in the speedster.

Wally shrugged, his smile shaking in anticipation, putting an arm around the black jacketed shoulders and leading the thirteen year old down the hall to where the woman waited for them. Robin caught sight of a shadow, studying it, realizing it to be too tall for Barbara.

"Selina..?" he guessed, racking his mind for any adult woman he knew that might come to him as Robin.

The bird couldn't think of any adult woman who would come searching for him as Robin specifically, or any woman who knew that Dick Grayson was Robin. Change the gender and he would've had a never ending list to check off. Women though…

"He's here," Wally called to the shadow, motioning her to come out and greet their youngest member, practically dancing in anticipation.

When she stepped out, it was the last person Robin ever expected to see in Mount Justice. Her skin was the same tan shade as it had been when he had last seen her, her dark blue eyes warm and welcoming. The corners of her lips were turned up in a soft smile, her dark brown hair pinned back with only two stranded flaws that hung down, one on either side, having slipped from the clips. She was even in the same outfit she had been from that day, the green skirted leotard creaseless. Not a drop of make-up lined her features, her face pretty enough to stand alone without it.

Robin's lips fell open in horror, his eyes swelling enough for the friction holding his shades to the bridge of his nose fading so they could slide down. His exposed blue eyes trembled, watering, pure terror written across his features. The woman smiled on oblivious, opening her arms as if asking for a hug. Although her lips moved, the words Robin heard unknowingly were only in his head.

"Do you like the outfit? It took forever to find it again. I thought it'd be easier for you to remember me in it," the woman's smile widened, "Come on, give me a hug?"

The glass of orange juice held by pale fingers slid as the tension lightened, glass shattering and flying in every which way as it marred the floor beside the black Converse. Trembling hands reached up to adjust black tinted shades before Robin slowly staggered out from under Wally's arm towards the familiar woman, his whole body shaking. Her smile widened, obviously thinking she was going to get a hug. Instead, the sidekick to the Dark Knight dropped down to the floor with the glass and drove his foot into the back of Wally's knee, sending the ginger sprawling to the floor with him.

The ginger gave a surprised cry, the surprise turning to pain as a shard of glass stabbed through his jeans, bringing his teeth together painfully. He stayed there, trying his hardest to find and remove the shard from his leg in pain. He was frozen in shock though, the freeze increasing as he saw how strong the hatred in his best friend's face was, just for him. The tears were visible, as was how tightly his jaw was locked. A fire burnt beneath the dark blue irises, turning Wally's soft flesh into hard concrete made for a statue. For a second, he actually hoped that the bird would kick him, but he had no such luck.

Instead, the little ebony walked slowly over to where the woman stood with an agape mouth, trembling as hard as his fists, staggering back as he moved closer. Her blue eyes flickered to amber for a half-second, unnoticed by anyone beside herself, but even that was barely.

"I don't know who you are… or why you agreed to help KF torture me… but…" Robin stopped, his face contorting in the worst way possible.

His knuckled grew as white as the color in the outside of his eyes which were now bubbly, a single tear slipping past his defenses. It was wiped away as the thirteen year old turned his head, breaking the boy who occupied the floor's heart. That single tear weighed the ginger down, his mouth open in horror, the fear growing as his best friend's breath caught in his throat painfully. Was he going to sob? No. This was Robin. He would've left the room if he planned to do that. Then, the expression on Robin's face changed.

The narrowed eyes with the blurry tears, the red tint and the gritted teeth seemed to flip itself upside-down. His eyebrows furrowed, a flustered blush dusting under his potential tear tracks, his frown becoming a sheepish smile as he lunged through the air and bound his arms in a death grip around the stranger. Tears immediately slipped past his now hidden eyes, a ragged gasp parting his lips and causing his teeth to clench tight.

"Wha-?" the woman cried in Megan's voice, her voice dim.

She didn't know what to say, instead setting a gentle hand to Robin's back and holding him close to return the hug. Normally, she would've vetoed the idea due to her jealous boyfriend, but Robin needed this more than Conner did, tousling the soft black hair's edge lightly. It was just like the woman she had been copying had done long ago. The action burnt a hole in the acrobat's heart, causing him to push away and hug himself instead, stalking to Wally's side. He dropped to his knees, the tears now a lot more visible up close. His voice dropped to a pained whisper.

"I don't know… what I could've possibly done to piss you off this bad, but you know what? I'm sorry. I'm sorry I hurt you enough to make you want to hurt me like... this. If it was this bad, I guess I deserved it… but at least tell me why?" his voice trembled, his jaw shaking, trying to distort his slowly spoken words.

He was unable to look at those once warm emerald eyes, those cheesy freckles, the soft reddish brown hair… it all stung. The stabbing mirrored back on Wally's face, his eyebrows furrowed, no words able to express all the words he wanted and needed to say. He wanted to reach up, hug his best pal tight and apologize until his lips fell off but he had pride and a reputation, as well as a love for his own life. He knew if he did what he wanted, Robin would kill him in a second. Faster than a second. Faster than a flash. Faster than the Flash.

"Rob… bro…" the cold glare he received cut his apology short, breaking his heart. "F-fine… but could you... could you tell me who she is before you kill me?"

Robin straightened up, looking down at Wally slowly as an innocent tear shattered on the ground beside the glass. His expression turned to glass, a face Batman would be proud to claim as his own, all of the lovable attributes everyone favored broken away.

"My mom."

A picture can be just that, a piece of paper to the normal eye. To most, it's a memory of a before time, one usually looked back at with a smile or a faint chuckle, or even a grimace of shame at how high the stupidity levels of the time had been. But in some cases… a picture is like the cold barrel of a pistol. The second it's seen, the trigger is pulled and the painful bullet tears through the strongest of hearts, crippling even the most invincible.

I know Robin would never have a picture of his mom at Mount Justice. Maybe he doesn't even have a picture of his mom! I was in a grim mood near the end of this and I figure that it deserved a grim ending... of a sort... Oh, and don't worry. Robin gets back at him. That's my next fic, based on something I saw on House. It was so bloody brilliant… I just couldn't help myself. We're all a little… insane… Review?

-F.J.