Okay, ZOMG… I know, I know – it's been ages since I've updated, I've been sooooooooo lazy…

Sorry guys!

Let's crack straight on with it;

Thankyou to: LoopyLouise123, YamiTai, Me, Flying02Fish, TheFallenAngel67, Athena's Wings, Raven Victoria Grayson, Guardian of Azarath, TheLoneWolf8986, Poison's Ivy, Simmie, Rosalina, Narroch, Crazy Insomniac, Kami Elf, and Quinn and His Quill, wherever you are…

I'm not answering any questions today because I'm mean. So there.

Thankyouuu for all the reviews. I had like 15… It's slowly creeping back up again… :)

I know, I'm just pretty much just chucking it at you today. I'm really sorry… I promise better ANs next time. On the other hand, it must be refreshing for you all not to have to plough (UK spelling!) through an entire essay's-worth of thankyou notes…

This chapter… Crazy!Batman…

Vengeance for the Bat

"Okay, Robin; you can let go now…"

Robin reluctantly opened his eyes – which were squeezed tightly shut – and dared to let his breath out. He kept him arms wrapped firmly around Terra's waist, however, as least until he was one hundred percent sure that the boulder on which they were riding had completely stopped. She had taken to riding at speeds in excess of 80mph through the sky on one of her self-made rocky air-boards, and while she seemed quiet comfortable standing upright, Robin was on his knees, his masked eyes scrunched shut against the wind and the chips of rock flying off, and his arms clinging grim-death to Terra's waist. Not that he was afraid of heights, or of speed, because he most certainly wasn't, but this… well, he wasn't used to this.

"We've stopped?"

"Yes."

Terra sounded impatient, and Robin quickly unwound his arms from her waist and looked down. The rocky platform was hovering a few feet from the wrecked grounds of Wayne Manor, and Robin slipped off and landed lightly on the ground among the burnt debris. A few seconds later Terra joined him, setting their means of transport down.

"I've already seen it," Robin whispered as he cast his eyes over the wreckage, the frame-work barely standing, burnt and disjointed… "But it's still a shock; it still hurts…"

"I know."

Terra placed a hand on his shoulder and squeezed him reassuringly.

"It's okay… if you don't want to do this…" she said softly. "We can just go straight to Gotham if you'd prefer…"

"No." Robin shook his head firmly. "No, I want to see him, Terra. I have to…"

"Okay, but…" Terra sighed deeply. "Just remember, Robin… this isn't your Bruce. He's…"

"I know," Robin finished expressionlessly. "He's mad."

"Well, just don't get upset, okay?"

"I won't."

Terra bowed her blonde head and walked ahead, motioning for him to follow. He complied and she led him across the demolished ground to a part of the manor that still standing, if precariously. He could see where she had cleared a pathway through the rubble from the many times she had been here before and he allowed her to lead him through a maze of parts of the broken mansion scattered through the still-standing East Wing. Burnt furniture, smashed glass, broken ornaments, torn paintings and photographs, all partially buried beneath years of dirt and reminisces of the weather that had befallen it; mould from the rain and snow, and fading from the sun.

Further in it became completely dark, the rotten floorboards creaking underfoot, slitherings of things unknown, and a distinctive fluttering of tiny, leathery wings – bats. It was so dark Robin couldn't even see where he was going, only following the sound of Terra's footsteps, and even then this navigation wasn't entirely reliable – it wasn't until he had tripped and landed flat on his face a third time that Terra reached back and took hold of his hand, leading him properly.

But it was little comfort to him; it had now become a scary game of "Follow the Leader". Wayne Manor was no longer a known, inviting place to him. It was little more than a graveyard, a memory of things that could never be again, just like Titans Tower. And in the darkness, Terra simply led him on, around obstacles that he could not even see, on to something that he wasn't sure he even wanted.

For it was not the darkness he was afraid of – it was what waited at the end of it.

Eventually, deep within the bowels of the broken mansion, he saw light.

"Almost there," Terra whispered, still clutching his leather-gloved hand. He nodded even though she could not see him as they came to an archway, the entrance to a stairwell carved into rock.

The entrance via the Grandfather Clock. Only… said clock had been torn aside; in the dim light coming up from the BatCave below, Robin could see the clock lying a few feet away, smashed and rotted.

Before he could change his mind, Terra squeezed his hand tighter and led him down the steps, even though her leadership was no longer really required. He knew where he was now, and as they descended further down the twisting staircase, deeper and deeper underground into the natural cave beneath Wayne Manor that Bruce had transformed into his lair, he could recognise nearly every crack in the wall.

And, yes… the trophies were still standing, lording it up high above; the giant robot Tyrannosaurus Rex, the monstrous two-headed coin, the oversized Joker card…

He tried to break away from Terra as they reached the bottom step and came into the BatCave itself. He could see Bruce sitting across the other side, facing the computer, and felt the urge to leave Terra behind and simply run to him, to tell him everything, to be encompassed in his mentor's strong grip…

"Robin, no," Terra reprimanded him sharply, pulling him backwards as though he was a disobedient toddler reaching for the most expensive and breakable thing in the store. "Don't just run at him. I don't know what kind of mood he's in…"

She held his hand very tightly indeed as she strode up the length of the BatCave, leaving him slightly miffed. This was, after all, his territory; in his time, Terra had never even met Bruce Wayne, or Batman…

He grudgingly allowed her to half-drag him towards Bruce, looking around at the BatCave. It had definitely been in better condition fifteen years ago – as far as caves went, anyway – and in the absence of Alfred the dust that had accumulated on every surface imaginable was as thick as that on top of the organ in the cathedral. Four glass cases lined one wall, and…

Robin frowned.

Four?...

There should have been one, certainly, the one housing his older uniform, with the yellow cape and shorty-pants and the pixie boots. But four? Again he tried to pull away from Terra, and again she gripped him tighter to prevent him from achieving it.

Fine…

He simply lagged behind her so that he could get a better look. He could see his own costume, the younger version, which had been there for seventeen years and counting in this time, and next to it…

He blinked.

Another Robin costume, but not his own. This one was red and black, with a high-necked yellow and black cape similar to the one on his current uniform. Beneath the case was a bronze plaque, which he just managed to read before Terra dragged him past it;

ROBIN

TIMOTHY DRAKE

The other Robin; now he understood. The next case held another uniform, similar to Batman's, but more refined, stylized… feminine, with the Bat insignia yellow on black, instead of vice versa.

BATGIRL

BARBARA GORDON

Of course; Tim and Barbara had not been buried in their uniforms, so Bruce had kept them as memorials… no, wait, that didn't work. Tim had been… well, had gone the same way as Robin's – Dick Grayson's – own parents, yet the costume in the case was in pristine condition. Likewise, Barbara's body, after her death at the hand of the Joker, had never been found. So these ones must be spares, or extras Bruce had had made up, to be put into the cases as memorial tokens.

Feeling a vague sense of excitement, he turned his attention to the last case as Terra pulled him past it. Yes, there it was, the same blue and black skin-tight costume worn by the cartoon in Starfire's scrapbook, the hawk spread across the chest, wings outstretched, dull silver utility belt hanging at the waist, similarly-coloured gauntlets adorning each black leather glove…

NIGHTWING

DICK GRAYSON

Not his full title, unlike "Timothy Drake" or "Barbara Gordon" instead of "Tim" and "Babs"; not "Richard John Grayson".

Just "Dick".

He smiled.

Next to Nightwing's case was one more glass case, this one set upon a marble pedestal; it was very small, rectangular in shape, and within, laid upon a purple velvet cushion, was a feather duster.

ALFRED PENNYWORTH

NOT EVERY HERO WEARS A MASK

That made him smile even more.

And a little further along again, although it was not in a case, was a crimson cape nailed to the rocky, uneven wall of the BatCave – Superman's. A metaphoric ode to Bruce's – although he would certainly never admit it – best friend.

This time he positively smirked.

"Bruce?" Terra asked softly, stopping a few feet short of the huge leather chair facing the computer.

No answer.

Robin could see the edges of the familiar scalloped cape draped over the edges of the chair – Bruce was in uniform.

"Bruce?" Terra tried again. "Bruce, I brought someone to see you…"

There was another painful silence and Robin felt his heart sink. But then, unexpectedly, Bruce suddenly spoke, although he did not turn around;

"I don't want to see them."

Well, at least he doesn't think he's a bat. Well, a real one, at any rate…

But, somehow, this was worse. Perhaps he would rather Bruce was flapping around screeching ear-piercingly, because now he sounded so… cold.

Distant.

"You don't even know who it is," Terra said reproachfully, although she gave Robin's hand a quick, reassuring squeeze as she said it. "So how can you say you don't want to see them?"

"It's Roy."

"No, it isn't." She stepped back a little even as she spoke, and Robin knew why; he too could almost sense the danger, the blackness of Bruce's mood.

"Bruce-" He started desperately, but was cut off as Terra slapped a hand over his mouth.

"Don't make this worse," she hissed at him.

But Bruce turned at the sound of his voice, swinging the tall leather armchair around – he was in his Batman uniform, but the cowl was down.

It was still Bruce – he had not changed as dramatically as Terra had, but he had certainly changed. His face was lined, but it was not with age, for even fifteen years on Bruce would only be in his mid-forties. His black hair now showed streaks of grey at the temples, however, and it was messy, stray strands falling across his forehead. His grey eyes seemed harder and colder than ever before, and his firm mouth looked as though it hadn't smiled in years. The uniform was torn, patched with scraps of grey material that almost-but-didn't-quite match, the scalloped edges of the cape were ripped and ragged. At the foot of the chair rested a heavy walking stick, shining black mahogany with a silver handle.

Walking stick?...

But surely, residing in the BatCave, Bruce would have no use for such a crude weapon, not when he had so many others at his fingertips?…

There Bruce Wayne sat, the Batman of Gotham City, nestled deep within his own habitat – a dark, damp, bat-infested cave metres below the ground.

And he did not look pleased to see either of his visitors.

"Bruce…" Terra's voice was soft and careful as she addressed the former-billionaire. "You… you recognise me, don't you?

"Yes," Bruce replied monotonely, regarding her icily. "Thankyou for bringing the food yesterday, even though I do not remember you doing so."

"You weren't in one of your… better moods yesterday, Bruce."

Bruce smiled thinly, but the expression in his eyes betrayed the action. His steely gaze moved to Robin and he frowned at him.

"Why did you bring this boy?" He asked frostily, pointing one accusing gloved finger at his former-ward.

"This boy is the person I brought to see you," Terra said cautiously. "Don't you recognise him?"

Bruce studied Robin for a second or two, his grey eyes narrowed, and Robin felt Terra clutching his hand tightly, maybe in fear of what Bruce's reaction would be; he was certainly quivering slightly.

"No," Bruce decided finally, his tone clipped. He leaned back in his chair and began to rock it back and forwards slightly, his gaze fixed on Robin and his eyes narrowed still in certain dislike. "No, I don't. Should I? Should I recognise him, Terra? Because I don't."

Robin could actually hear the madness in his voice, the incoherent rambling of his tone, the way he strung words together as though he couldn't really make any sense of them. He might not have thought he was a bat today, but there was absolutely no doubt about it – Bruce Wayne was nuttier than a fruit cake.

Except that, unlike a pretty-much harmless fruit cake, Bruce was dangerous and unstable with it.

"I don't recognise him," Bruce repeated, leaning forwards in his leather chair. He repeated it a few more times, more to himself, his voice hushed and breathless, as though trying to convince himself.

"Yes you do, Bruce," Terra whispered, throwing a spanner into the works. "This is Robin."

Bruce blinked, putting his head to one side to study Robin in a new light. Eventually he shook his head.

"No, that's not Robin," he said, shaking his head. "A robin is a bird."

Terra sighed, and Robin got the feeling that she was subjected to this very often.

"No, Robin," she accentuated. "As in the name. Like… Robin Hood. This is your partner Robin. Do you remember him, Bruce?"

"Might be a good idea to mention the whole time-travel thing," Robin muttered, leaning in to her.

Terra shook her head.

"Let's not confuse him," she whispered in reply. "At least not for the moment…"

"What are you whispering about?" Bruce demanded, raising his head sharply. "Why are you whispering? Tell me why you're whispering!"

"We're not whispering, Bruce," Terra said calmly, putting her hands up as though in surrender. "It's okay, take it easy. We're here to talk to you."

Bruce rocked back in his chair again, his narrowed gaze moving from Robin to Terra and then back again.

Silence.

"I don't recognise him," Bruce said again, breaking the silence.

He regarded the pair of them for a second or two longer, and then abruptly swung his leather chair back around to face the computer.

"Bruce!" Terra snapped.

Bruce ignored the pair of them, starting to tap keys on the Bat-computer. Screens shifted across one another – surveillance monitors, just like the ones in Titans Tower. From their database they could see practically everything that was going on in the city.

He felt Terra's grip on his hand loosen in her dejectedness, and prised it free.

"Robin!" She cried, but before she could catch hold of him he had darted out of reach over to Bruce's chair.

"Bruce, please," he pleaded, tugging on his fifteen-year-older ex-mentor's arm. "You have to remember me!"

"I've never seen you before in my life," Bruce replied stonily, pulling his glove from this seemingly-unknown teenaged boy's grip.

"Yes you have!" Robin pressed desperately. "I'm your first ward, and your first sidekick!"

Bruce did not even bother to answer this time.

"Robin, come on," Terra told him softly, coming to his side. "He doesn't recognise you. Let's go…"

"No!" Robin ducked out of her reach again and shook Bruce's broad shoulder beneath the torn black cape.

"Grayson!" He burst out, desperate for his ex-guardian to recognise him. "Dick Grayson! That's me, remember, the circus acrobat? The kid who had to watch his parents fall fifty feet to the ring floor? And you caught the guy that did it, Boss Zucco, remember?..."

Bruce seemed to freeze up in Robin's grip, and the Boy Wonder trailed off uncertainly.

"Bruce?" He asked quietly. "Do you remember me now?..."

Bruce swung his chair around again, rising from it in one fluid, powerful motion, so fast that Robin couldn't follow it. He didn't even realise that Bruce had grabbed him by the throat until the man had hauled him four feet clear from the floor, holding him by the neck high above his head.

"Don't ever say that name," Bruce hissed lethally.

Robin couldn't answer him, struggling with Bruce's powerful fingers as they cut off his air supply.

"Bruce, stop it!" Terra shrieked, lunging forwards; Bruce ignored her, instead shaking the boy he was brutally yet effortlessly strangling.

"DON'T YOU EVER SAY THAT NAME!" Bruce roared, tightening his grip and shaking the boy even more. "HOW DARE YOU SAY THAT NAME; HOW DARE YOU CLAIM TO BE DICK! DICK IS DEAD!"

"Bruce, let him go!" Terra screamed, wrenching at Bruce's powerful arm. "You're going to kill him!"

Bruce threw Robin aside as hard as he could; the Boy Wonder slammed against the wall and slid down, landing in a crumpled heap. Terra started towards him, but was wrenched backwards by Bruce as he grabbed hold of her arm. Enraged, Terra whipped back around, her eyes blazing gold. A large boulder dislodged itself from the far wall and careered right into the Dark Knight, sending him sprawling against the control panel of the computer; he too slid down, ending up slumped against the panel.

Terra ignored him, instead running to Robin and putting one of his arms over her shoulders, hauling him to his feet.

"You okay?" She asked quietly, fixing her gaze back on Bruce.

"Yeah…" Robin tried to straighten himself up, rubbing his throat. He too turned his gaze to Bruce, who was simply sitting against the panel frowning up at the pair of them.

"Dick," he said finally, his tone soft. His gaze was directed at Robin, but he no longer looked as though he wanted to kill him. On the contrary, he raised his arms and spread them out, as though he was trying to hug something that wasn't there.

An invitation.

"Dick," he repeated imploringly, wriggling his long black-gloved fingers. "Come here."

Robin looked at Terra for assertion. She seemed to think about it for a while.

"Alright, just… just be careful of him, okay? You just saw what he's like…"

Robin nodded as she let go of him and he cautiously went over to his ex-guardian. He knelt down next to him, and was slightly taken aback when Bruce greedily gathered him into his arms like a little boy coveting a new pet kitten. So there he was, uncomfortably trapped between Bruce's strong arms and broad chest, and indeed, Bruce did seem to be treating him as though he thought he was some kind of pet, stroking his jet black hair but roughly, combing his slightly-pointed fingers through it.

But Bruce's personality had certainly lobotomised in that last minute or so, no longer angry or savage; instead he seemed to accept that the boy clutched tightly to his chest – the same boy he had been strangling only a few minutes before – was indeed Dick Grayson and was now treating him with utmost love and care, instead of attempting to throttle him.

"I've missed you so much," Bruce murmured into his ebony hair. "So much… you went away, you've been gone too long, far too long…" Bruce gripped him tighter as he talked, addressing himself more than his ex-ward, even though he was not really making any sense. "You went away but now you've come back, you have to stay here now, forever… Promise you won't go away again…"

Robin said nothing; how could he promise when Terra was taking him to see Speedy tonight, the sole purpose of which was to get the Clock of Eternity fixed so that he could go home?...

Bruce didn't seem to notice; Robin could have been dead in his arms and he wouldn't have noticed.

"You are a ghost," Bruce murmured, hugging him tighter, pulling his knees right up so that Robin was pretty much caged, unable to pull away from him; although it was comforting to be in Bruce's arms, Robin could only wonder how long his ex-mentor was going to keep him there.

"You are an angel," Bruce went on, his voice so quiet it was barely audible.

"No, I'm-" Robin was cut off as Bruce pushed his face against his powerful chest, muffling his words against the yellow Bat motif. Robin tried to push away again to finish his sentence – and breathe, more importantly – but Bruce was holding him there now. Maybe he thought he was being comforting, but in actual fact he was suffocating his ex-sidekick.

"Bruce, you're hurting him," Terra said sharply from where she stood watching with her arms folded.

Bruce frowned, then looked down at Robin writhing in his grip. His eyes widened as though there was a snake in his arms rather than his own ex-sidekick and he let go as though the boy had burned him. He pushed Robin right off him, staggered to his feet and went back to his chair, which he sank into wordlessly.

Terra came to Robin and offered him a hand, pulling him to his feet; Robin's gaze, however, was fixed on Bruce.

The Dark Knight was simply sitting back at the Bat-computer, typing away as though absolutely nothing had happened. Robin started for him, but Terra grabbed his shoulders, preventing him from approaching the man.

"I think that's the best you're going to get," she whispered. "I… I'm sorry, Robin. I don't know what you were expecting…"

Robin shrugged dejectedly.

"I… I don't know what I was expecting either," he replied softly.

Terra put her arm around his shoulders and started to steer him out of the cave towards the staircase, giving him a sympathetic squeeze as she did so.

"Bye, Bruce!" She called over her shoulder.

No answer, only the tapping of keys.

And his grief for Nightwing did this to him, Robin couldn't help thinking. His grief for me…

The journey back through the broken manor only seemed to take half the time it had before, and before long Robin found himself stepping out into the sun, murky through the now-permanent clouds of pollution above Gotham City. He walked right away from the part of the mansion that was still standing, stepping over broken, burnt furniture and shattered rubble. Terra seemed to sense that he wanted to be alone and so let him be for the best part of five minutes, but when he simply remained standing in the middle of the wreckage looking up at the sky she made her way over to him.

"You gonna be okay?" She asked him softly, stopping a few steps behind him.

After a few seconds' silence, Robin spoke;

"This is my fault, Terra."

He looked at the ground, strewn with half-buried debris, unfallen tears stinging his eyes.

"No." Terra put out a hand, placing it on his shoulder. "No, Robin. This isn't your fault, none of it is. How can it be? When everything happened in this time, you were… in your own time, what, one year old?"

"No, not what happened here," Robin said softly. "I know that it isn't my fault. Well, I shouldn't have let my team die, but I mean… it's Slade's fault really, isn't it? What I mean is… Bruce's madness. That's my fault."

"No," Terra said again, her voice firmer. "Robin, you can't blame yourself for what happened back there, and you can't really blame Bruce either. He's the victim of heartbreak after heartbreak, he can't help it…"

"Exactly!" Robin cried, turning to face her. "Every death was another nail in the coffin, if you'll excuse the morbid analogy…"

"You're excused," Terra murmured sardonically.

"You said it yourself," Robin went on, ignoring her. "First his parents, then his best friend Clark – although he would never have admitted that Clark was his best friend – then Alfred, then Barbara, then Tim, watching nearly every single one of his team die, and the Justice League before that… every death broke him up, way back to when he was like, six, when he watched his parents gunned down… But the thing that topped it off, the death that drove him completely over the edge… was mine."

"That's not your fault though, Robin," Terra pressed. "You – or Nightwing, I should say – didn't deliberately die to make Bruce go crazy. Roy and I had no idea that it would affect him like this, either, but it did."

Terra moved her hand to his throat, touching him above the high neck of his Lycra t-shirt.

"Did he hurt you?" She asked him, moving right up to him and applying pressure to the brittle bones in his neck.

He winced and pushed her off.

"Just a little bit," he lied. "Nothing much." He paused, then touched his own throat; in truth he could already feel the bruises forming, imprints of Bruce's strong fingers.

"I deserved it," he convicted bitterly, still massaging his neck.

"No you didn't," Terra said dismissively, sounding extremely irritated. "He lost his temper again because you mentioned Dick's name-"

"It's my name," Robin interrupted. "And I should have known better; I should have kept my damn mouth shut, especially after you had told me not to say anything about Nightwing or Alfred or Barbara or anyone. But… but I was just so desperate for him to recognise me…"

His voice cracked slightly as he said it and Terra reached out and put her hand on his head, massaging his spikes in certain affection; perhaps an old affection for Nightwing…

"Poor baby," she said softly, but she wasn't mocking him. Then her face broke into a wide, beautiful grin.

"I'd hug you," she said, giggling, "but considering your height, I think we'd better pass on it…"

Robin cocked his head in confusion, then saw what she was getting at; given that, at sixteen years old he was so much shorter than this thirty-one year old, model-physiqued Terra, his face was exactly level with her breasts.

"Maybe when you're taller, eh?" Terra went on, pushing him slightly.

He managed a watery smile; had he been in a better mood, he would have laughed.

"Aw, c'mon," Terra sighed, putting a cupped hand under his chin and lifting his head up. "Chin up, ok? We're gonna go see Roy so he can fix that old piece of junk for you so you can go home and prevent all of this from ever happening."

Robin cheered up a little at that, knowing she was right. Once he got back to his own time, he could prevent the Teen Titans from dying, the first in the chain of events that had led to this devastated future world. Once that had failed to happen, the other events would fail to happen too, because the chain would be broken, and history rewritten.

"So what's next on the agenda?" Robin asked as he and Terra started back through the wreckage of the Wayne Manor grounds.

"Oh, I think a tour of crappy… I mean, picturesque Gotham City," Terra replied breezily. "There's still some stuff up and running, you know; it's not quite like the lovely Jump City, which is utterly dead…"

"I know," Robin replied blandly.

"I know that you know."

"Well, I know that you know that I know…"

They continued to argue in that ridiculous fashion until they reached the boulder that Terra had flown them there on. Robin sighed, finishing the argument and sitting down on the rock; Terra boarded it too, standing upon it like the captain of a ship.

"You clinging to me again?"

"Depends on how fast we go," Robin replied icily.

"Oh, I was thinking maybe… I don't know, 80mph, perhaps?"

Robin answered by wrapping his leather-clad arms firmly around Terra's legs. She giggled again as she lifted the entire boulder into the air with her impressive powers.

"You can definitely fully control your powers now, right?" Robin asked nervously as they began to rise higher and higher; it was never too late to jump off… "'Cause, I mean, when you were a Titan, you-"

"At thirty-one years of age, Robin, I should certainly hope so," Terra interrupted irritably. "I told you, Slade taught me to control them years ago. Only useful thing he ever did; unfortunately, it came at a price…"

"Oh. Yeah. Right…"

Robin looked back at the broken, burnt mansion now become further and further away, and thought of Bruce shut up inside it all by himself…

"You ready?"

Robin blinked and looked up at Terra.

"Yeah."

Terra frowned.

"What were you looking at?"

Robin took one last look at Wayne Manor, then shook his head.

"Nothing," he replied vaguely. "Just one more person I have to avenge…"

I can't even remember what happens next… Uh, I'll have to dig out the next chapter and dust it off. Seriously, I wrote this part of the fic sooooooooo long ago…

Could be Roy. I think it's Roy…

You'll just have to come back next time and see, hmm?

Ugh, sorry about the lame ANs, people…

- RobinRocks xXx