Disclaimer: Disclaimer: All copyright and credit goes to the original creators of the Teen Titans, Batman, and the DC Universe. This is for entertainment purposes only! I do not own any of the characters!

A/N: Happy belated Thanksgiving everyone! It's been way too long. So very sorry. I had some health problems that through me for a little bit of a loop. But I'm better now and I have the itch to write again and to finish this!

A million thank yous for all of your kind reviews. I never stopped thinking of this story during my hiatus, and I'll finish it...eventually! That begin said, not sure when the next update will be. I'm going to try to get back in the groove of writing and do my best!

In the last chapter, Slade and Robin got ambushed by the Joker. This chapter doesn't answer many of the questions you may have, but the answers will come soon! I'm already working on the next chapter and some questions shall be answered in it. Hopefully I'll get it up soon!

As always, thank you for sticking with me and this story. Enjoy!

Chapter 24

Memories

"What the bloody blazes is going-"

"Just get us out of here, Will."

"What's wrong with him?"

Slade flicked on a light, illuminating the small space inside the helicopter. The question from Wintergreen was answered with loud shout from the boy as he yanked himself from Slade's grip and flung himself at the door.

"BRUCE!"

Slade yanked the struggling boy back and maneuvered his small form into a seat. Robin kicked and screamed, lashing out with a blind anger. A tremor ran through the small vehicle, sending a deep vibration through its sides.

"Will," Slade began, a warning note in his voice.

"We'll be out of range in a few seconds…" The man said from the controls as his green eyes flashed briefly back to the man; his forehead creased as his eyes narrowed with a thick concentration.

Robin's foot slammed against Slade's shin, and the man swore as he dropped the boy. Robin slammed against the side of the helicopter as he let out another scream. Slade grabbed the boy and dragged him back, spinning him around and pinning his arms down. Robin let out a ragged breath as his head spun around, looking left and right in a mad daze.

"Robin," Slade said as pressed harder against the boy's arms. "Robin, can you hear me?"

The words seemed to fly right over the boy's head as he tried to push past Slade.

"I need – I need to get to them-"

Slade stilled as he heard those words.

"Who? Who do you need to get to?" he asked very quietly as Robin turned to look at him.

"My parents…"

A crushing weight fell over Slade's chest as he shook his head, squeezing the boy's arm. The toxin from the bullet was messing with his brain now, causing him to hallucinate.

"Robin, listen to me-"

"Please, Sir. You have to let me go, I have to warn them."

His words were softer and quieter, lost echoes of the fear of a child. Robin pushed against Slade's arms, but the man held him back as his he closed his eye.

"Will, he's hallucinating."

Wintergreen flicked a few switches up, setting the helicopter on autopilot and grabbed a small, white box. He grunted as he climbed over his seat and moved to crouch down next to Slade.

Robin's hand reached out and grabbed the older man's arm, a desperate plea sounding in his hollow voice.

"Please, you have to help me," Robin said as he looked around. He flinched and pulled against Slade once more. "I have to find them."

Wintergreen gave Robin a small smile as he patted his hand gently. "Everything will be alright, lad."

He flipped the box open and pulled out a thick white piece of cloth and handed it to Slade while he continued to dig around in the box.

"Do you know what poison it is?"

Slade shook his head as he removed his hand from Robin's shaking arms and wrapped the cloth tightly around the bullet wound in an attempt to stem the flow of blood. Robin hissed in pain and shifted in his seat, but his eyes kept flickering around, never acknowledging the pair in front of him.

Slade glanced at the older man as he pulled out a needle.

"How long until we arrive?"

Wintergreen shook his head as he tapped the needle and handed it to Slade and said, "Six or seven minutes."

Slade shook his head.

"Can we go any faster?"

"I'm afraid not."

Wintergreen's green eyes narrowed as he examined the pensive and fidgety boy. He reached out and grabbed Robin's shoulder. The boy didn't notice the feather-like touch and instead turned around as a quiet cry escaped his lips.

Wintergreen sighed and turned back to Slade. "Where is he?"

The masked man leaned back on his haunches as he cocked his head at the boy. He knew little Robin's personal history but there was one event the boy had mentioned, and it was enough for Slade to deduce the hallucination.

"The night his parents died."

Robin muttered something under his breath as he tried to stand up again, but Slade pressed him back down into the seat.

He glanced at the needle Wintergreen had handed him, and raised an eyebrow under his mask. "What's in this?" he asked as he turned the clear liquid over.

"Sedative," the man replied simply as he pulled out a small rag and a clear bottle.

Slade frowned, glanced down at the needle, and extended it back out to Wintergreen.

"I can't use this on him," he said as Robin shifted under his hands again.

Wintergreen arched an eyebrow as he accepted the needle with pursed lips. "And why not?"

"If I knock him out," Slade said as Robin cried out again and kicked his legs out. The man let out a quiet hiss as he repositioned himself and restrained the boy. "His mind will still be trapped in this nightmare. I have to break him out of it."

The older man furrowed his eyes as he glanced down at his watch. "And how are you going to do that?"

Slade looked back at the boy as Robin grew extremely still.

"There isn't anything we can do until we get back to the haunt and can figure out what the toxin is."

A silence settled among the pair as Slade let out a low growl, clenching his hands together.

"Dammit Robin. You should have listened to me."

"So I'm assuming-"

Slade closed his gray eye and shook his head. This entire night had been one hell of a mess.

Wintergreen sighed as he dumped a clear liquid on a rag and reach out for Slade's hand. The masked man pulled away, blood dripping from the large gash the bullet had given him.

"I'm fine, Will."

"Don't be stubborn-"

"I'm not stubborn. It's Robin who-"

"We can't do anything for him until we-"

"Dad…"

Both men froze as Robin grew deathly still under Slade's grip. Color began to drain from the boy's face as he tried to rise to his feet.

"Mom…please…"

His words were a soft whisper in the silence that filled the helicopter. Slade took a deep breath funneling out the worry that had begun to fill him. His gray eye turned to Will, and the older man immediately moved to the cockpit of the helicopter.

"How much longer, Will?" Slade asked as a shudder ran through the boy's body.

Wintergreen turned in the seat, his green eyes speaking volumes as he glanced at the small boy. Slade grabbed Robin's wrists, squeezing them tightly.

"Robin," Slade began calmly, "It isn't real. None of it is real."

His words however fell on deaf ears as the boy continued to stare straight ahead. His eyes seeing a different picture; his mind remembering a different time. The boy tried to move forward, but Slade held him back, specks of the man's blood landing on the boy's uniform.

"No, don't go! Please! Don't go!" Robin shouted pushing against the man as he tried to reach beyond Slade and grab something in the distance. He screamed in frustration, but Slade held him down, his eye flickering back to Will.

"We're almost there, Slade."

Wintergreen's calm voice was buried under a shriek of panic as Robin pushed himself forward, his head slamming into Slade's chest. The man grunted under the impact as he was shoved into the outside wall of the helicopter, but his hands remained latched onto Robin's wrists, refusing to let go.

And then Slade saw it.

The subtle shift in the boy.

The way his hand fell a fraction toward the ground.

The way his mouth dropped open.

The way every muscle in his body tensed.

Slade mentally braced himself, preparing for the inevitable. Robin was watching his parents die for a second time, and there was nothing he could do to stop it.

Almost there wouldn't be close enough.

He was falling.

Colors and images flashed before his eyes in a swirling vortex, wrapping around him. His feet lifted off the ground as his body fell deeper and deeper into the recesses of his mind. Through the deafening roar, a figure rose up, solidifying into motionless black mass.

The figure was a man. A man with a familiar, dark mask plastered over his eyes. The blend of colors latched onto his cape and seeped into it, pulling him back among the chaos.

"BRUCE."

The man pushed forward, extended a hand.

Robin reached out, brushed the leather glove. The roar grew louder.

With a deafening snap, Robin felt a force yank him away. He was thrown back as a pair of invisible hands shoved him down. A scream bled through his throat as he watched the gloved hand morph and shift into a gun.

A deafening crack, and everything was silenced.

Blood.

Robin looked down. It drifted from his chest and lifted weightlessly into the air. His fingers ran through it as it separated into tiny droplets. He pushed the red droplets away and jerked back as his hands ran over a cold metal surface.

A black and orange mask stared back at him, smeared and caked with blood. His hand hoovered over the mask as the figure materialized in front of him. With a gentle pull the mask fell off and two clear blue eyes stared back at him.

His eyes…

Robin screamed as the red droplets clotted together and wrapped around him, devouring the blue eyes in a swarm of red.

Red.

The deathly color swarmed his vision, consumed him, and devoured him until all he could see and remember was red.

Richard Grayson blinked. His eyes drifted from the vibrant, red train car as the smell of popcorn wafted through his nose. He blinked as the world around him spun and twisted, bright colors flashing before his eyes. Music trailed in and around him, the sweet melody causing him to smile.

Robin –

The boy froze at his nickname and blinked as images came into focus. He looked around the empty space, searching up and along the large barrels of hay for the source of the voice, but the area around him was empty and no one was to be seen.

The young boy furrowed his eyebrows as he looked around, the low rumble of a large, distant crowd filling his ears. His small hands tightened their hold around the large bag of overflowing popcorn as he took a step forward, his feet making a quiet crunch on the dirt ground. The boy brought the bag up to his face and licked a small piece of popcorn into his mouth. His eyes peeked out over the top of the large bag

What exactly was he doing again?

It was the night of the big show, the boy could remember that much. But how did he get here? Dick continued forward along the towering hay stacks as a gentle breeze brushed past his cheek. He could see the big tent in the distance, its towering statue and vibrant, red color glowing in the sunset.

Robin can you hear me?

The boy whirled around, sending pieces of popcorn flying onto the ground. His raven locked flopped onto his head as he desperately searched for owner of the voice.

"Hello? I can hear you!" Dick cried as he jumped up and down, a ring of popcorn now forming around his small frame. The boy frowned when he didn't receive a response. The voice sounded familiar…but not in a good way. Perhaps Raya or Jimmy was playing a joke on him again. His blue eyes narrowed as he stamped his foot on the ground.

"Ay knock it off guys! It's not funny!" Dick yelled to no one in particular. His shout was quickly drowned out by a roaring applause from within the tent that bellowed in the calm air. The boy growled and stuck his tongue out, glaring around him as he imagined Raya and his friends running off and snickering at him. Train cars and smaller tents littered his path to the big tent and the boy began moving through them, muttering under his breath.

Something seemed off, but the boy couldn't place it. He drifted through the vacant train cars as another round of applause thundered in the distance. What exactly was he doing here again…It was almost as if –

His parents!

The realization slammed into him, causing the boy to drop his bag of popcorn. He glanced down at his small, red wrist watch and immediately broke out into a run, the ticking of the second hand spurring him along as his pounded on the ground. Tonight was the opening show for the tour in Gotham, and Mr. Haley had made his parents choreograph a special trapeze routine just for the occasion. Richard smiled to himself as he imagined the headlines tomorrow.

The Flying Graysons the Stars of the Show!

The Flying Graysons 'flying' into the spotlight!

Death defying, spectacular, amazing…

Richard rounded a corner, his feet skidding on the dirt. His parents were the best performers in the world, performing tricks and stunts others could only dream about. Dick had been practicing ever since he could walk, eager to follow in the legacy his parents had created.

Marvelous…

He had performed with them before, but he wasn't performing with them tonight. The routine had been too complicated for him to follow, and his parents had felt it better that he take the night off.

Unbelievable…

Plus, his mother always got worried when he went on the trapeze with them. Dick never understood her concern. They performed without a safety net all the time, so why shouldn't he?

Incredible…

Richard laughed. He was running out of adjectives to use - hopefully the newspapers tomorrow wouldn't. He couldn't wait to see their lithe forms fly through the air, to watch his mother's pale face light up with glowing smile that illuminated the crowd, to gaze in awe as his father flipped and fell effortlessly through mid-air, to witness the most difficult routine of their career, and to feel the thunderous rush of applause wash over him and radiate to his parents.

Soon…soon he would be at every performance, standing by their sides and smiling with them. The applause would be for him too as he flipped and flew through the air. Soon they would pass on the legacy to him, and he would make them proud.

Soon…

"Now, Mr. Haley we would hate for anything to happen to your performers on the opening night…."

"Get out. Both of you."

Richard slowed his speed and turned around as two men exited from the vibrant, red train car Mr. Haley, the owner of the circus, used for his office during tours. Dick furrowed his brow at the two creatures, both large, vulture-like men with dark coats that hung around their forms like billowing dead feathers. Dick glanced back at the tent as he heard another large round of applause echo through the air. He really should –

Mr. Haley appeared in the doorway of the train car, a thick scowl embedded on his round face. Dick hesitated. He had never seen Mr. Haley that made before. His normally care-free demeanor was plastered over by a thick layer of anger that simmered all throughout his short body.

"You're a man of business, Mr. Haley. Don't be unreasonable –"

"Unreasonable?" Mr. Haley hissed as he stepped down from the entrance of the train car. With a scowl he realized he now had to look up at the two predators and hastily took a step back up the step, setting his short form back to eye level. "You're not getting a damn cent out of me. You can tell Zucco to take that so called protection money I owe him and shove it up his-"

Richard slowly turned around and took a hesitant step forward, his boots rolling over the worn, dirt path.

One of the men held up his hands, cutting Mr. Haley off, and with a thin smile said, "We'll let him know you declined our generous offer."

Mr. Haley's face turned a few shades redder as he leaned forward.

"Generous!?"

The second man, a few inches taller and slimmer than the first, nodded his head as his dark coat flapped against his ankles.

"Shame too…opening night…"

The first one clicked his tongue and turned, his cold eyes landing on Richard's small form.

"It was good talking with you Mr. Haley."

Richard remained frozen in place as the pair of men started in his direction. The man's dark eyes washed over him, clouding his mind. The boy blinked as the haze grew over his mind pressing into him.

Robin…

The boy's vision cleared, and he took a step back as the pair of men walked by him, barely sparing him a second glance. A dark feeling grew in the pit of his stomach as he stared at the two creatures walking by him. Maybe he should-

"Richard!"

The boy whirled around as Mr. Haley stepped down from the steps, a smile on his face. Richard offered a small smile back and lifted a hand in greeting, keeping his elbows glued to his sides.

"Why don't you go find your parents and wish them luck before the big show," the plump circus owner said while walking up to him.

Richard nodded his head, his eyes tracing up and down the man's face. As if noticing the boy's scrutiny, Mr. Haley widened his smile and ruffled the boy's hair. Richard ducked his head, backing away, his eyes flashing back behind him.

"Mr. Haley, those men-"

"Are nothing to worry about, Richard," the man said as a stern note entering his voice. His eyes hardened as he stared down at the boy.

"But-"

"No buts! Go enjoy the show. I'm sure your parents will need some luck before they perform." A light laugh entered the man's voice, and Richard smiled, the tension before all but melted from Mr. Haley's reassuring presence.

"Okay, Mr. Haley."

Richard turned, the dirt licking his boots as he darted off, nimbly avoiding another hair ruffle.

"Give them some luck from me too!"

The boy raised his hand in acknowledgement as he sped off around a corner, his feet kicking up a trail of dirt behind him. He trusted Mr. Haley's judgment, but those men…a shiver ran down the boy's back. He should just forget about them.

His eyes glanced down to his watch and cringed as he saw the minute hand slowly creeping upward. The boy sprinted faster, the roar of the audience growing louder with each step. If he cut around behind the tent, he just might make it to their performance.

The boy skirted to the left, running through a maze of boxes and cages. No one was around him. All the workers were inside the tent right now.

"Cut them. Burn them. I don't care what you have to do to the ropes, Zucco wants it done."

Richard slowed his pace as the muffled words washed over him. He glanced around the desolate space, his eyes landing on a tall stack of hay bales. The boy scaled up them, his light touch ghosting upwards without a sound. His eyes peered over the edge of the bales and widened at the two men from before. One was currently talking into a small cellphone, his spidery fingers taping against the device impatiently.

"They'll be on in ten minutes, be ready," the man snapped as he ended the call. He looked at his companion with a thin smile.

"Old man is going to regret crossing Zucco."

A laugh escaped the second man.

"I can see the headlines already, biggest performance of the night flies to its death."

More laughter, but Richard's heart stilled.

Biggest performace…

Richards ducked down as the men snapped around.

"Did you hear something?"

That could only mean one thing.

He scrambled down the hale bales and took off running. He had to find his parents.

The boy sprinted along the empty path, a new sense of urgency beating in his chest. His eyes glanced down at his watch. The minute hand was almost to the top now. The red tent grew closer in his vision. His hand pushed aside the soft fabric and rushed inside, never wavering in his pace.

A dark object rose up before him, and Richard crashed into it. A hand grabbed his arm, preventing him from falling to the ground.

"Whoa there, what's the rush?"

The warm words faded into the rushing applause that filled the tent. A crowd of people twisted and shifted around him. Richard's eyes dashed and skirted around as he tried to pull away from the man.

"I need – I need to get to them-"

"Who, who do you need to get to?"

"My parents…"

The words were a whisper as he pulled against the hand.

"Please, Sir. You have to let me go, I have to warn them."

He felt the grip slip off of him and the boy took off running again, weaving through the crowd of people nimbly. Another applause roared through the towering space, and Richard felt his heart sink. The minute hand was only a few spaces away.

He whipped behind a second curtain, leading to the large area where all the performers warm up. A few people called his name in greeting, but the kind words washed over his ears.

"Next up with a feature performance for Gotham city, defying death itself with no safety net, the fearless, Flying Graysons."

The loud speaker blared in his ears and echoed across the space as he thundered through the area.

And then he saw them.

"STOP! MOM! DAD!"

They turned.

His vision flickered.

A light laugh echoed through the air as Richard barreled into outstretched arms.

"And we thought you weren't going to make it, bud."

"No, don't go! Please! Don't go!"

More laughter. His vision spun. Blotches of red speckled his parents' faces. His mom's brunette hair shifted and spun with a red haze and his father's hands dripped with red ink. The boy blinked hard and the color disappeared.

"What has gotten into you?"

It was his mother. That was his mother's sweet voice. Richard tried to focus, he tried to speak. But his parents couldn't hear him.

"Dad…Mom, please – "

"Oh he's fine, Mary. Probably had too much sugar again."

A large hand drifted through his hand, brushing gently through his raven locks.

It isn't real. None of it is real.

Robin whipped his head around at the ghostly voice. His head spun as people moved and walked around him. A man with a black and orange mask flashed from behind a circus attendant and then disappeared.

"Wish us luck, my little Robin."

He turned back around at the retreating voice. His mother's thin hand slipped from his shoulder as she began to follow her husband up the tall ladder. His dad glanced back, his violet costume glittering in the faint lighting. A wink.

"Dad…"

ROBIN –

Black and orange flashed in front of his eyes, and the boy fell backwards. The boy shook his head, blinking hard as the objects around him wavered and flickered. He pressed his hand to his head, collapsing to his knees. Each breath sent a ragged pain bleeding through his ribs.

Introducing…

The boy looked up. His vision stilled on the two distant figures above him. He felt two hands appear on his arms and pull him back. Richard wrenched himself out of their grasp and ran forward. But with each step he took, his parents moved farther and farther away.

The Flying Graysons…

"NOOOOOOOO!"

A terrible shriek gushed out of his lips and was drowned out by the applause around him. His head grew heavy as their uniforms sparkled and glittered in the bright circus lights.

IT'S NOT REAL –

The words were like a metal hammer crashing down on an avail. Colors flashed before his eyes and spun around him but Richard pushed through them, fighting to keep his parents within his view. He could still make it. He could still stop it.

The music began to play. The haunting melody reached his ears. It was his favorite song. They were performing the very first performance Richard had ever seen them do.

But this time they wouldn't even make it past the first flip.

Time slowed. He watched as his mother's feet lifted off the ground and into the air like a bird taking flight. His father soon followed, mirroring his mother's grace and elegance. But the ropes that the duo had trusted for years now failed them.

SNAP

The noise echoed in the air, reverberating in a heavy silence.

Then the screams.

They fell.

Blotches of red crept in on his vision as he watched the silhouetted figures fall to the ground. In that moment, everything in his heart was ripped and gutted out of him. He turned away as their bodies landed, a horrifying wail erupting from his lips. Tears rolled down his face as he buried his hands in the dirt.

Then laughter.

A ghoulish laughter rang in his ears overwhelming the terrified screams from the audience. The boy looked up as the background faded into an array of colors and a man with a smeared red smile appeared from the chaos.

"You let them die, birdie boy."

You let them die.

The laughter rang in his ears as he screamed into the dirt once more, burying his head in the sand and clenching his tiny palms around the small, rough grains that cut into his skin. His body burned with a feverish heat as his tears soaked the ground.

A sob escaped him.

You let them die.

Hands tried to pull him up, but he fought them, shook them off. He didn't want to see them. He didn't want to believe his own eyes.

Robin, wake up….

Quiet words, but the boy didn't listen. He didn't want it to be true.

You let them die.

It was all his fault. They were dead because he couldn't stop them. He couldn't protect them.

It's not your fault. You were only a boy…

The words cracked his concentrations. Tears streamed down his face as he looked up. A man was standing in front of him, with dark hair and a concerned face. The arms wrapped around him as a coolness spread through his body, pushing away the heat.

And all at once, the colors, the chaos, the screams, the laughter, the blinding red streaks, the blood rushed into him until his ears thundered with madness. He screamed as a searing pain rushed through his body and shoved the last dredges of heat away. The arms around him grew tighter.

And in a blinding snap, Robin lurched forward and opened his eyes.

The world around his chaotically spun. Tables, chairs, medical supplies all flipped over and over his head. Robin clenched his eyes shut, grinding down on his teeth and letting the taste of bile seep through his senses.

His breathing was erratic, uncontained and uncontrollable. Each breath sent stabs of pain beating into his head as images ran through his mind in a jumbled mess. A cry escaped his lips as he clenched his head in his palms, willing everything to stop. His fingers yanked at his hair as tears continued to stream down his face.

A pair of hands grabbed his arms and tugged them away from his head. Robin furiously snapped up as a single, gray eye gradually came into focus. Words spun into his ears and drifted away before he could latch onto them.

The boy turned, reaching out to the air in a futile attempt to swipe the blur of colors away but instead was met with the grasp of a strong hand. He felt his arms beginning pulled down and his body pulled closer to a warm presence.

"Focus."

The words was soft and drifted among the boy's swirling vision like a light feather. Robin shut his eyes hard and opened them, but the world still turned. He tried again and again, mentally willing for everything to slow down. His parents' faces flashed before his eyes and a cry of panic bled past his lips. He lashed out trying to push the image away.

A hand grabbed his chin and pulled him around. The soft, gray orb appeared again, and Robin paused in his movements.

"Focus on me."

The boy let out a short breath feeling the cool air gush through his lungs. He felt a pair of hands run up and down his arms in a slow rhythmic beat. His eyes dropped closed. Up. Down. Up. Down. He blearily opened his eyes and the man's face began to take shape.

"Slade…" Robin's voice was a mere croak.

And all at once the memories flooded back to him.

With a frenzied shove, Robin launched himself away from the man as his stomach lurched. The vile taste of bile and blood dripped from his lips and rained down on the ground. The boy heaved the contents of his stomach as a straggled croak escaped his dry lips.

A hand ran up and down his back as Robin tried to sort through his memories. Up. Down. Up. Down. But everything scrambled together in a jumbled mess, and he couldn't decipher the thoughts and images that slammed into his brain.

You let them die.

Robin froze. The words echoed in his mind, crisp and tangible in the haze of images and voices.

You let them die.

He pushed himself off of his hands and knees as he slammed his eyes shut. And then he saw it – the all too painful memory rose up in his mind, and when he opened his eyes, he saw them. He saw his parents. He saw their broken bodies.

Robin whipped around wildly latching onto the figure next to him.

"Robin, calm down," the man said as he grappled with the boy's frantic hands. "None of it was real."

The boy furiously shook his head as tears dripped down his face. He reached out and grabbed the man in a maddening grip, desperate for something real to hold onto to. Desperate for someone to listen.

"I let them die, Slade…"

A sigh escaped the man in front of him, but the boy didn't notice. His mind was too scattered, too numb to hear. "Robin, you didn't –"

Robin blinked as he heard the screams in his mind. Tears rolled down his cheeks as he looked into the warm, gray eyes, and faced the demon that had haunted him since that fateful day. His heart broke and shattered as a sob escaped his lips.

"I let my parents die, Slade."

A fleeting moment passed between them. The arms dropped from Robin's hands and wrapped around him, pulling him closer. And for the first time since his parents' deaths, Robin didn't pull away.

He simply leaned into them and cried