Chapter Two; Memories Consume

"Are you excited to go to the circus, Adam?" The camera turned to face a small boy around four years of age. Thin arms encircled his mother's neck as he was settled in her arms. Wide brown eyes looked back at the camera.

"Yes!" Wintergreen sighed and brought his attention toward Slade who had taken position on a table and was silently watching the homemade camcorder.

Effortlessly, Deathstroke had broken in the police records without alerting anyone of their presence. And then William had watched his old friend pull out everything on a Grayson, Richard, and surprisingly he found an old homemade video. William had heard a lot about this Robin from Slade. It was odd hearing him talk fondly about anyone, a child no less... For over a year the mercenary had gone through countless of younglings, always comparing them to the boy wonder. From what Wintergreen heard and gathered, Robin was a lot like Slade in many ways and that drove Slade over the edge in gaining possession of the boy.

"Kindly remove your eyes from me, Wintergreen, and watch the clip." A smirk tugged at Wintergreen's mouth but he complied, bringing his attention back on the screen.

"What are you excited to see at the circus?" Wintergreen rolled his eyes upward. They could've fast forwarded the tape, but it was like Slade to watch every single detail, no matter how small it seemed.

"What does this have to do with your apprentice, Slade?" Without removing his eye from the screen, Deathstroke hissed out calmly.

"Patience, Wintergreen." Patience was Slade's specialty, not his. Just as he was about to announce he was going to step out the stuffy room, something moved from the corner of his eye. He turned and witnessed a shadow outside the door… Tensing, William quietly moved to the dark part of the room and hissed out a warning to Slade. The man appeared as if he didn't hear him, instead, his eye was fixated on the screen.

Without another second, the door burst open and a man that appeared to be a night guard pointed his gun at Slade, not seeing Wintergreen in the dark corner.

"Freeze, you're under arrest for breaking and ent-," Deathstroke clicked the hand gun in his hand and within seconds he shot the man in the center of the forehead.

Wintergreen blinked as the body fell stiffly on the ground. Slade had done that without taking his eyes off the television in just a matter of seconds. He would've been impressed, but this was sloppy work for Slade. He had never killed like this before, he was impatient right now and Wintergreen knew what was causing it… or who was causing it. No one got under Slade's skin like this… boy did.

"He might've called for back up Sla-," The mercenary held up a hand toward Wintergreen. Pursing his lips together, William leaned against the wall in annoyance.

"The elephants and the acr- acro." Adam looked perplexed at the word he was trying to pronounce.

"The acrobats?" His mother laughed at Adam's enthusiastic nod.

Wintergreen ignored the rest of the sappy conversation until they reached the inside of the circus. He had never been inside of one and it shocked him that people actually worked there for a living… gypsies.

"And now, the moment you've all been waiting for, The Flying Graysons!" Grayson. Wintergreen gave a breathless chuckle. "Your apprentice was in the circus? A… a gypsy? Did you know that?" Slade didn't reply, but he leaned forward in interest.

The lights went off and the spotlights over the swings turned on. The audience was going wild as three figures swung back and forth on ropes that were a very high distance from the floor.

The camera tried to zoom in when the three landed and Wintergreen smirked as his eyes landed on the small boy. The boy had big blue eyes, the same as the woman standing next to him… and Slade's. He looked over at his friend to see his eye fixed intentionally on his younger apprentice.

The father and mother were both short and lithe, obviously Robin got his statue from them… the lights dimmed and Richard grabbed the swing at the edge of the platform after getting a kiss on the forehead from his mother.

Wintergreen frowned, "He's not actually going to do this, is he? He must be younger than seven." Slade's gloved hand made a fist at his side from Wintergreen's chatter and kept his eye on the screen.

"There is a net below him and he was born to two acrobats. I think he will be fine; now if you would shut your mouth, Wintergreen, and watch the film."

Richard looked back at his mom and gave her a smile and nodded toward his father across the platform. Adrenaline surged through his body as he pushed off the platform. He wanted to impress everyone in the audience, especially his parents. He knew he should've told them about that man threatening the circus leader, but he didn't know it would be such a big deal. Maybe after the performance he would tell them.

But right now, he needed to clear his head and focus on the routine. Gasps sounded throughout the tent as he did a flip in midair and a smirk appeared on his face. He couldn't wait to hear what they would do when he did his final move. His parents had practiced with him for countless of hours to prefect it and Richard new he could pull it off perfectly.

Gripping the swing, he swung his momentum backwards, gripping for the next swing over. Everything on the swings seemed natural to him. He wasn't afraid to fall, and he wasn't afraid to mess up. He knew where the swing was before he grabbed it, and he knew the precise moment it came swinging back toward him.

He saw his father get on the swing toward the platform, ready to catch him in midair as he did the finale.

He took a deep breath and as he swung toward his mother he pushed his body weight behind him, doing a backwards somersault. Not one, not two, but three times in the air without any aid from the swing. As he rounded his fourth, he started to fall, and two strong hands caught him before he could do any damage.

He smiled as his father pulled him up on the platform. His father would always be there for him, would always help him up when he was down.

His father gave a laugh and ruffled his hair with a proud gesture. And at that moment it didn't matter that the whole audience where on their feet, clapping and cheering for an encore, it mattered to him that both his parents were beaming with pride and admiration. At him

Wintergreen blinked and took a breath for the first time since the performance started.

"The boy is a natural. Brilliant for how young he is… was." Slade nodded in agreement, a small smirk on his face.

With one last ruffle of his hair, his father prepared for his wife and his performance. The last one of the day. It was without a net, which was why Richard couldn't perform with his parents. But he knew they would do perfect.

He watched in awe as they worked together on cue and amazed the audience. He knew he would be just as great as them when he got older. A bright smile appeared on his face as they flipped safely toward the next swing. Things were perfect. Just brilliant.

A 'snap' sounded in his ears and his smile dimmed significantly. He watched in horror as his parents tried to grip the swing, their only road to safety, when it snapped from the wire all the way.

His blue eyes watched as his parents faces turned in terror and their bodies started flipping in awkward positions in the air on the way to the ground. A part of Richard wanted to join them in their fall, but his feet stayed rooted to the spot. Twin snaps sounded throughout the tent as their bodies hit the floor, necks and legs bent in the opposite direction they should've been.

Silence was thick in the audience until screams of shock and horror traveled into Richard's ears. He should've dashed down the platform to their bodies, but his knees gave out underneath him and his mind was numb as he just stared at his parents… his lifeline to life.

"Ah!" His throat was raw as he struggled against the bindings holding him down. He had that dream again. That nightmare. But this time, he wasn't waking up in his room in the Titans tower. This time he was lying on a stiff bored and an iron smelling substance stung at his nose. Everything in his vision was blurry and he panicked.

He rammed his chest into the bindings and tossed his head furiously, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't feel his legs… he couldn't kick at his captors. Hoarse screaming was heard in the tiny space that held him captive and his mind realized that it was him who was crying and screaming, but he couldn't stop no matter how ridiculous it sounded.

Why were his legs numb? Why did his head seem like it was cracked open?

A hand started to stroke his hair, attempting to soothe him, but it didn't help. "Hush, it's alright. We're here to help you." A comforting voice sounded above his head, but Robin didn't calm down. Where was he? Where were those sirens coming from?

"You're on the way to the hospital. You had a terrible fall, but you're going to be ok." A sharp needle was inserted into his arm and he felt himself become droopy and hazed from the drug.

"Legs…spine…no hope…walk…." Pieces of conversation ran into Robin's sleep daze before he blacked out.

--PA--

Bruce Wayne was sitting in the waiting room of the Wayne Memorial Clinic. He had heard about the accident concerning Richard from the Teen Titans and called the medical crew to transport him over to the Wayne Clinic. He had heard nothing about Richard's condition and he was starting to get more anxious.

Looking around at the other people in the hospital, he stood up and started pacing back and forth. He knew the men and women's eyes were on him… due to being the most rich and famous person in Gotham City. They probably wondered what he was doing here.

If something happened to Richard their identities could be discovered… no, he couldn't think like this. Richard was going to be perfectly fine. Both their identities were safe for the time being with a cover Robin now located in Jump City. He had convinced Tim Drake to take Richard's place for awhile, or as long as it took for Richard to get better.

"Mr. Wayne?" Bruce turned around to face Dr. Thompkins, the only one who knew of Bruce's secret identity.

"How is he?" Leslie took a deep breath and motioned for Bruce to follow her down the ER ward. Just from the look on her face, Bruce's chest gave a heave.

"He's in a coma. He had a shocking trauma and his body shut down in order to accommodate the change. He had two broken ribs, both his legs are broken, and there was a large cut on his face that we had to stitch up. It will probably scar for the rest of his life…" She paused, but from her posture, Bruce knew she wasn't finished.

They walked down the long hallway, and Bruce smelt the strong sent of death and suffering. The two stopped at room thirteen and they looked inside the window at Richard. Bruce hadn't seen his ward in a long time, but the boy looked so small lying in the bed. He could see the scar that formed above the eyebrow and slanted diagonally down across his right eye and stopped above his cheekbone. The child's skin was pale, almost as pale as the sterile sheets surrounding him. Thick casts were embracing both of his legs and wires were connecting themselves in the boy's skin.

"Was his eye affected? Will his legs heal correctly?" His voice sounded grim to him.

"No. There was no inflammation in the eye, and there will be no disfigurement. Except for the scar of course. He will see perfectly fine after a couple of days after it heals." Her voice grew heavy as she said the next words. "And his legs… they will heal correctly." They sat there in silence watching as Richard's small chest rose and fell by itself.

"And?" Bruce questioned, still not connecting the dots to the information she withheld. "Will he be able to be back to the swing of things after he heals?" Leslie remained tight-lipped, her eyes looking at Richard's limp form. Bruce's or rather Batman's temper got the better of him and his voice rose considerably. "Damn it Leslie! Tell me!" She wasn't affected by his voice and kept her stare on the prone body.

"He's paralyzed from the waist down. His spinal cord was shattered." Bruce sucked in his breath, and frowned at the doctor.

"Will you be able to-,"

"No. There is nothing to help him, Bruce. I'm sorry." Bruce turned his back to her as he put a hand to his face. This couldn't happen. What was he to do now? Richard would be devastated… He could hear the doctor's heels tap on the floor as they entered Richard's room and came back out to him.

"I'm going to be out of the state for a few weeks, Bruce. So there are going to be other doctors on watch for Richard. Of course they won't know who he is, but will care for him." She paused and handed him a clipboard, not looking at his face. "Since the damage is so high and severe we will need a signature to admit him the necessary antibiotics. If we don't give him these shots, he could likely die from infection, or acquire a hospital illness." Bruce took the clipboard and studied it.

"If the antibiotics are so important to him, why do you require a signature?" She took a deep breath and glanced at Richard, pushing her blonde hair back, creating more of a mess with it.

"With an injury like Richard's sometimes the family will want their loved one to… acquire an illness and die, rather than being in a wheelchair the rest of their life… and some are too poor to afford treatment such as this." Bruce stared at the clipboard and back at Richard.

Leslie caught his expression and scowled at him. "Sign it, Bruce. Do you want Richard to die? The same boy you would die for?" She couldn't believe that the man was actually considering not signing it.

Her eyes were grimly locked on the clipboard as Bruce handed it back to her… without the signature. "You don't know Richard like I do, Leslie. If he knew that he couldn't run or fight again, it would eat him alive. Fighting crime is the only thing in life that kept him sane since his parents died."

Tears stung her eyes and shaking fingers clutched the board to her chest. "The boy is too young to die, Bruce. Not everything in life is about fighting crime. He could be a detective and still be in a wheelchair…you could adapt him into this new life. Now is the time he needs guidance."

"You know I don't have time for that. I can't see him like this." His voice seemed to take on a higher pitch as he avoided looking at the thin, pale, form of his ward. Perhaps… perhaps Bruce was too shocked at the moment? "He will never be happy like this, Leslie. I can't, he'll be better off." Bruce shook his head and started to walk away, never looking back.

"Better off dead?" She whispered at the back of the Dark Knight. There had to be a rational explanation why Bruce wouldn't sign. Just by seeing him avoiding the sight of Richard made her realize that he was in denial. This was affecting him much more than he let on. She would've, could've, signed for Bruce, but he was the legal guardian of Richard. And if she was caught signing it… she would have to face the government, something she didn't want for herself, or her family.

She looked over at the boy, lying so helpless in bed and gave a prayer to the Gods that Richard remain strong until Bruce straightened out.

A/N: I know that Tim Drake didn't go this early to the Teen Titans, and the whole time is off, but this is my AU and it doesn't follow a timeline. And another thing, I wasn't going to put the video on this, but I kept playing the scene over and over in my head... I hope it wasn't too corny?