A/N: Here's the second chapter!

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Enjoy!

Chapter: 2

Darren was jumping on the tumble track when Bruce walked into the training room down in the Batcave the next morning. Darren chose to ignore him until he walked over to where he was,

"Did you finish school for the day?" Bruce asked him. Darren continued jumping, stalling his answer. He knew Bruce already knew the answer to that. Technically he'd already gotten his GED, but due to the fact that it was probably fake and they didn't have any proof that he took it, he had to still get educated. He was a minor afterall and it was the law. He could take the GED test again, but honestly Darren didn't think he'd do as well as he did before. It had been hard enough when he took it the first time and again, it was probably faked or something. Bruce had suggested homeschooling, so that's what Darren agreed to. It was better this way, no one would get hurt or held hostage for knowing him or having him in their school. While the Court couldn't touch him while the custody case is pending, they could still get to him through other means. Being home-schooled was the safest thing to do. The only issue was that Darren did not like school that much. It was never really easy for him, he was dyslexic and while he was smart in his own right, it was difficult for him.

Homeschooling wasn't all that bad though. For one he could work on whatever he wanted, as long as he completed the appropriate classes and labs within the school year and of course he didn't fail. He could stop the videos whenever he wanted and go back if he missed something. But he also got bored, he just sat in the manor for the duration of the schooling session. Darren threw a back flip, and Bruce's frown deepened. He was annoyed Darren was ignoring him,

"Darren," he nearly growled. Darren glowered down at him still jumping,

"I got bored," he stated simply, flipping forward this time,

"You know the rules,"

"I know the rules you agreed to," Darren didn't exactly want to antagonize Bruce, but he knew the older man didn't trust him. He'd put him through a grueling and demeaning simulation test to see if he could control the killer instinct he'd been raised with but also set him up to fail by raising the levels of the robots he fought higher and higher. He'd also used a dog whistle on him, knowing it would incapacitate him due to his enhanced hearing which was painful and embarrassing. Though Bruce did offer him an olive branch of peace by letting him become Renegade, even if he was on probation. Bruce sighed,

"You can come down here when you finish for the day. Just get the work done and you can come back down. You know you'll be benched, like any of the other boys, if you fall behind on assignments or your grades drop," he said evenly, "If you are stuck on math Tim will gladly help you when he comes home from school," Darren slowed his bouncing before huffing out a breath,

"Fine," was all he said before jumping to the ground and marching out of the Batcave. Once upstairs he settled himself in the corner of the L shaped couch in the main living room with his computer, notebook and headphones but didn't immediately start working on history, like he had been before deciding to take a break. He instead looked up how much it would cost to get a tattoo, and he'd probably have to pay double because he wasn't eighteen yet…though he could probably pass as such, he was tall for his age.

The main issue was that he technically didn't have any money. He had an inheritance but he couldn't touch that until he was twenty-one and everything had usually been taken care of for him, even by the Court and the Powers—the despicable family that took him in per request of a fake will planted by the Court to get him in the clutches of their allies. He was supposed to be taken in by the Drakes, yet that didn't happen. With a sigh he loaded up the next video of his history lesson for the day and continued with school. He knew how to solve the money problem but didn't like what it entailed. There was only one place that would have the money he needed: Crowne Manor. Darren would so get benched for this as he would have to get the money during patrol, but if it eased his conscious about his scars, then it would be worth it.

Darren kicked the padlock off the front doors of Crowne Manor, but did not push the doors open or entered. It was strange to be back here. He hadn't been here since he was five, but it still looked familiar. It was large, just as big as Wayne Manor, though the crest on the doors and gates leading to the house was very different. He'd taken care of all the alarms, they shouldn't go off when he entered. Though he may not be the best at hacking, and was pretty slow at it, he still got the job done. Tim would've been impressed if he hadn't ditched him halfway to their patrol quadrant, Tim had probably told Batman by this point and they were out looking for him. He'd turned off his comm device before patrol started, so he didn't know what the others were saying or doing. Perhaps he was going to extreme lengths to get this tattoo done, but he needed this. He couldn't bear the feeling of helplessness looking at his old wounds gave him, it would make him a liability on patrol. The feeling his wounds gave him brought him back there, to the Court. Trapped on his stomach while William carved into his back, taunting him and laughing as he did so. Darren shook his head hard, forcing the thoughts out. It hadn't used to bother him to this degree, but ever since he started out as Renegade, he had been constantly wondering how long it would last before William was proven right. With a deep breath, Darren pushed open the doors to Crowne Manor.

Everything was covered in white cloth. The walls decorated with paintings and the walls adorned with covered statues. The wooden floor creaked as Darren stepped forward, letting the doors click shut behind him. Everything was dark and the creaks and groans from the house settling echoed loudly throughout the mansion. It sounded like muffled wailing to Darren as he took another step forward. Everything was covered in dust, it filtered down from the chandeliers above him and caused his senses to flair up. His eyes watered and he felt a sneeze coming on. But he closed his eyes and fought the urges, he just needed to find the safe. The safe was where a lot of the Crowne fortune was. The rest of it was in the bank of course, building up interest and waiting for Darren to come of age. But some of it was here and he only needed a bare minimum of it to get what he needed. It was a heavy duty safe with a dozen silent alarms, but if Darren remembered the code he could get into it. It occurred to him that the Court could have broken in and taken it, but then why would they need him in the first place? Perhaps they weren't as dishonorable as Darren thought, or there was more protecting his finances than just a safe.

Darren started up the stairs, his ears twitching at the simplest of noises, his blue-grey eyes sweeping over every inch of the building. He took everything in. He had run down these halls on unsteady legs, he trailed after his mother as she wandered from room to room and sat on the chairs by the grand fireplace with his grandfather for the short while he'd been alive after Darren had been born. He didn't like the feeling it gave him. Some sort of nostalgia mixed with sadness. It didn't feel like a home anymore. It felt like a tomb, where the ghosts of the past walked and wandered through a home they once enjoyed. It felt empty. He did not like being here. But Darren continued on, he needed to find that safe. He knew it was behind a painting, he remembered it from his five year old memories. They were locked up tight in the past, but he remembered glimpses of this place. The memories almost seemed like dreams now though, like they hadn't really happened at all. But the memories of his mother always appeared the brightest and he knew time wouldn't wear those away…at least he hoped it wouldn't.

Darren turned down the corner and found a painting at the end of the hall. The one of his great-great grandfather. He looked stern and unhappy, and Darren figured it was painted after Amelia had revealed she was pregnant with Dick's grandfather, it was said that he was never truly the same. The 'shame' they kept a secret really wore him down—or perhaps it was something else, unknown to the rest of the family and Gotham that was wearing him down in soul, mind and body—and he died soon after the baby was born, but before William stole the child and took him to Haly's Circus. Few knew what really happened to him, Darren knew it was William who had killed him and the Court who had covered it up as some unknown illness.

He suddenly heard a rather loud creak and stopped, his hands reaching towards his swords and he stayed still as the covered up statues in the house. No sound followed so he moved towards the safe again and tugged the painting down from the wall and stared at the face of the safe. Darren didn't really know what to expect, he'd thought the code would just come to him like some memories did sometimes, but nothing came. He bit back a curse, frustrated with himself. Of course he wouldn't remember the code to the safe. And even if he did it would just get rearranged in his head. He wasn't good with ordered numbers, they switched every time he looked away and then back to the page. Darren started off back down the hall, searching for a piece of paper with numbers on it, a file in the office…anything. But found nothing. He stormed back the way he came and turned another corner, ready to search the next hallway only to freeze. Darren stood staring at a door near the middle of the hallway. He remembered that door vividly. He knew that room.

Entranced Darren walked towards it and pushed the door lightly. It creaked open, the locking mechanism had been destroyed. He remembered that. It was his room afterall back before he'd been taken by William to the Court. The room was exactly how he had left it. A mess, filled with toys and plushies, a child's easel, a toy set, legos, action figures of all sorts as well as coloring books scattered all around. A dresser stood against the wall and he could see the clothes of a five year old poking through. His bed was shoved in the corner to the left of the dresser, the way he insisted it be so he'd have more room to play. It was a twin bed, not the large one he slept in when he had lived with the Talons and now with the Bats. A green comforter, like the one he chose at Wayne Manor was pulled tightly over dinosaur covered sheets. A thin layer of dust covered everything, like the rest of the house.

Darren stood in the center of the room, unsure what to do and unsure as to why he came in here. He turned on the spot, taking everything in. All the toys, the pictures tacked onto the wall of child drawings and finger-painted pieces of artwork. The green curtains were open, letting the moonlight spill onto the dark green carpet in the center of the room. All at once it was too much. All at once he felt so many things. Nostalgia, pain, the bittersweet feeling of happiness and fondness for the memories he had in this room. He could see himself in his mind's eye playing with each of his toys, running around through the legs of his mother, or any staff member or adult that had come to the mansion. He could see himself coloring diligently in the corner by the window in the sun and all at once he couldn't remember if he was here or there—then.

But he also remembered fear. He remembered that terrible night, after the car accident when the police whisked him back home to await further orders on his predicament when there were loud noises and crashes below, and the people he'd grown up around as well as the police members who escorted him home yelling and screaming downstairs. He remembered feeling so alone and sad and frightened and those emotions overwhelmed him. Darren remembered crawling under the bed, pulling his stuffed animal monkey with him and whimpering softly in fear until the door was kicked open—that was how the lock broke, it was rendered useless by the kick—and a tall, armored man with a mask shaped like an owl's head stepped into the room and yanked him out from under the bed by his hair—while he kicked and screamed and fought to get free—and then roughly grabbed him by the arm, keeping him still,

"Pack a bag child," the voice of William Cobb had hissed, "You're coming with us." And Darren remembered feeling helpless, for he had no other choice so he had done what he was told. He remembered being tugged down the hallways and stairs. He remembered seeing the blood and the bodies and the other Talons moving them around for the cleaners who would be coming in after they were gone to make everything spotless again, he remembered the horror he felt at seeing such gruesomeness. They would erase anything they had done in this manor. No one would know what really happened, only what the Court told them.

Darren blinked and stumbled back a step, slamming into the dresser. He shook his head, he didn't remember moving from the center of the room. He'd been lost in his memories, and he hadn't remembered something that clearly from back then in a while. Those people…all the people who had worked for his family for years, those cops…they were all dead because of him. He'd forgotten about them. He'd forgotten whether they had family members. Whether they were sons or daughters, mothers or fathers, brothers or sisters…he'd forgotten them all. Darren took a shuddering breath, and then another…and another and it suddenly felt like the room was spinning, or closing in on him…or both. Was…was he having a panic attack? He didn't know for sure, Dick was usually there to deduce that was the issue, someone was usually there, or at least now there was someone there. He never really had these kinds of issues before...but now he was around people who encouraged showing emotion and discussing things that bothered them. But now he was alone again…and he didn't know what to do. Darren slumped down to the floor and jerked his head between his knees and tried to calm himself and his breathing...that's what Dick tells him to do usually. Close your eyes and breathe slowly...try and be calm, be calm, be calm. He closed his eyes, but then opened them instead focusing on the grain in the wood on the floor. Trying to think of anything other than the past,

"Darren?" A voice asked. He jerked away from the voice on his left, scrambling away from the dresser until he bumped into the bed before he realized it was Tim standing over him. Darren didn't even hear him throughout the house, or hear him come into the room,

"T-Tim?" he demanded, "W-what are you doing here,"

"I think I should be asking you that question," Red Robin muttered, he was glaring at him and Darren instantly felt bad about ditching him,

"I'm sorry," he said,

"You know it's technically illegal for you to come here, at least right now. Until you're twenty-one the grounds are private to everyone, including you and including us," he meant the Bats when he said 'us,'

"I needed to come here,"

"For what?" he questioned, "You broke dozens of rules, not to mention got me into a near panic trying to find you, thankfully you didn't destroy your comm device and I could track it. You're lucky no one else thought to try and check the tracker in the comm and then manually turn it back on when they realized it was off. Dick would have never forgiven me if something had happened to you. You should be getting your ass handed to you by Bruce for this but I didn't tell him or anyone, so you tell me right now why you are here,"

"I needed to get into the safe," Tim stared at him with disbelief,

"You came back to this mansion…to steal from your own safe,"

"It's my money," Darren growled, his breathing finally resettling, "it's not stealing,"

"What for. You could have come to us with this, you shouldn't have to pay for something on your own,"

"I couldn't. This is…well…it's kind of illegal," Tim sighed,

"What are you talking about. Why do you need this money, be honest with me Darren. Let me understand what's going on. You've been on edge since you've become Renegade—don't deny it, I can tell—isn't this what you wanted?"

"Of course it is!" it was the truth, "But…I've just been wondering how long it will last,"

"Probation won't be forever—,"

"—not that," Darren hissed reluctantly...he didn't enjoy talking about his feelings or internal struggles it irked him still, but Tim gave him no choice, "Just…me being Renegade,"

"It'll last however long you want it to," he said simply,

"I'm not like you guys. I've killed before and sooner or later I'll probably do it again," Darren muttered bitterly,

"What makes you think that? Do you want to kill again?"

"No!" Darren looked away, down at the patch of moonlight on the floor, "William," he hissed afterwards in answer to Tim's first question,

"He can't touch you Darren. Not while the trial is pending, it would look bad for the Powers if something happened to you,"

"He's still there," Darren insisted gesturing at his back, "These scars, they're reminders,"

"Of what?" Tim asked, sitting down across from him, lightly picking up a toy dinosaur and inspecting it,

"That I'll always be an outsider, that I'll always be the one who kills and that I'll never be free. That the Court owns me," Darren recited painfully, resting his chin on his knees,

"That's bullshit. The Court doesn't own you, you're not their property. That's not how anything works. You're a person,"

"That's how it is to them,"

"It doesn't have to be," Tim stated softly, "I can't imagine what it was like growing up there, or even going through what you did…what they made you do, what they did to you, but don't let them win," Darren shrugged,

"We can remove the scars…usually we don't mind. It reminds us that what we do isn't painless, and that we are still just human and that overall what hurts us saves other people's lives. Though we do remove facial scars—they're too noticeable. We can do the same if they're causing you this much distress,"

"No! That's not what I want to do, I don't want to be a coward,"

"It's not cowardly to want them gone," Tim stated firmly,

"But I still want them to be a reminder…but a better one, a reminder that it's my choice whether or not I'm free and whether or not I'll kill again. That it's my decision what these scars mean,"

"So what will you do…that's illegal…to do that?"

"I'm going to get a tattoo," Darren explained simply, "But I don't want Dick to know, or Bruce. They'd probably freak and give me some long lecture about how there's no going back and I'm too young yada yada yada…so I did all this. I needed the money and the safe is the only thing I could think of. Go ahead and tell me it was a stupid plan,"

"It's not stupid…but it was stupid of you to think you'd remember the code after ten years of nothing but training and not living here. Not to mention…you were five,"

"Thanks," Darren muttered dryly,

"C'mon," Tim declared standing up, "I'll help you get it open," Darren lifted his head in disbelief,

"You're helping me?"

"If this eases your mind, then yes. You don't deserve to deal with doubts and fears of failing at something you want to do, and if getting a tattoo helps you with that then it's definitely a worthy cause,"

"Thank you," Darren said standing,

"Don't mention it," Tim replied, surveying the room one last time, "It's a nice room. Not too grand, seems you got to decorate it however you wanted. I didn't get that so my room in Drake Manor is pretty bleak," Darren often forgot that Tim had lived in a Manor just down the road from him years ago. It had always seemed like he had been a member of Wayne Manor,

"Yeah," Darren replied, looking at the room again, hoping the memories and the feelings he had before didn't come back, "It was pretty great," he agreed,

"The lock's broken it's the only one in the house that's like that," Tim mused, "I wonder what caused it,"

"William broke it," Darren stated mutely before stepping past Tim and out into the hallway. He briefly had a snippet of a memory, the halls splattered with blood before he blinked and it was gone. He shook his head,

"I don't want to come back here," he said out loud, and continued back the way he'd come before Tim could say anything.

Tim expertly hacked the safe, without tripping any alarms in place, and Darren took a few stacks of hundreds, whatever he had extra of he'd save for later—who knew what he'd need his own money for—before both he and Tim left through the front door. Darren had flashbacks of memories that had been locked away in his head as they walked back through the manor. Some were good memories, of happier and brighter times…but most were from the night he was taken by William and they were an unpleasant stain on the mansion's memory to Darren. As Tim finished soldering the padlock back together Darren again muttered,

"I don't want to ever come back here," Before he turned and started for his motorcycle, eager for the rest of their patrol to continue.

A/N: So some more insight on Darren's past and some of his locked away memories from when he was five that he didn't even realize he had, and a plan is in motion! Let me know what you think the Tat's gonna be of, you may be right you may be wrong but I kinda feel I laid it on a little to thick what it's going to be. I also feel that Darren would be a little irritable around Bruce because of the simulation fight and the dog whistle...which shows that Bruce still doesn't trust him so Darren doesn't trust him back because of that event.

Let me know your thoughts, opinions and idea! I love to hear them! REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW

Next chapter on Thursday!