Author Note: Hello again! I happily present to you Chapter 6! I've been plotting head with this story while I was at camp (which was fantastic by the way) and I can't wait for you all to get wrapped up in the story. Thank you so much to all those who have followed, favorited, and reviewed this story. I truly love the reviews...please continue to comment your thoughts when you are done reading this chapter. Bonus points go to you if you also include your favorite part/what you liked/what you are looking forward to or expecting. Thank you for being patient with my updates-here's a long chapter for you to enjoy. Thanks once again!

Disclaimer: I don't own the characters.

Chapter Six: Daymares and Nightdreams

Robin was only aware of two things at first: darkness, and an ache deep within his throat that seemed to shake his entire being. He chose the word "being" instead of "body" because right now, he wasn't even sure if he had one. His consciousness seemed to be like an emerald lost in a sea of shadows. Alone, flying free, yet unable to shake off black chains. And all the while, there was an uncomfortable sensation inside him. It was painful, almost like physical pain…but how could he be in pain without a body?

As he attempted to wrap his mind around these thoughts, Robin tried to remember how he had come to be in this unfortunate situation. This couldn't be real…or could it? The only possible explanation seemed to be he was dreaming, and yet it was unlike any other dream he had experienced.

He felt almost empty…as if a chunk of him were missing. It was just Robin and the darkness. The darkness and Robin. When Batman had first started training him, the Caped Crusader had constantly said, "Darkness isn't something to be afraid of, Little Bird. Shadows are an ally. They can hide you from your enemies and you can use them to your advantage."

Robin could vividly remember his eight-year-old self, clad in ninja turtle pajamas, staring up at Batman with wide eyes. "But Bruce, the dark still scares me. I feel so weak there. How can you be unafraid?"

At that point in the conversation, Batman got down on one knee so he could look Robin in the eyes. When his mentor responded, both his hands were on the young boy's shoulders. "Shadows aren't scary. The thought of things hiding within them are. But, Dickie, if you are the strongest thing in the darkness, what is there to be afraid of? Let the shadows teach you, learn their ways, so when someone is chasing you at night, you can get the better of them. And I will always be right beside you, a constant ally. I am the Dark Knight, and I will not let anything come to harm you."

As Robin remembered all this, he became aware of the black void around him once more. This was different. Unnatural. He wasn't supposed to be here. And Batman…Batman said he was always going to be there with him. Bruce hardly ever broke his word.

Yet now he was gone.

Leaving Robin alone.

Again.

Just like before.

When his parents had fallen.

When his parents were murdered.

He was alone then.

And he was alone now.

Without a father once more.

An immense wave of loneliness and despair suddenly slammed into Robin like a tsunami. He opened his mouth to cry out, but realized with a cold shock why that was impossible. He became faintly aware of his body somewhere in the dark haze, and the uncomfortable feeling inside him suddenly made sense.

He had been screaming in agony the entire time.

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.

M'gann held her breath as Batman tore open the first letter. He hastily handed the thicker one to Superman, who took it immediately. The Dark Knight swallowed hard, then tipped the thin envelop upside down. A thin slip of paper fell onto his glove.

There was a moment of silence as the Caped Crusader let the envelope drop and turned over the paper. M'gann couldn't see his eyes under the cowl and dared not touch his mind, but noticed the man's jaw tighten slightly.

"What is it?" Green Arrow asked, voicing the question that burned in all their minds.

Batman opened his mouth to respond, but Barry and Wally peered over his arms to inspect the parchment. Their eyes widened simultaneously.

"It…"Barry started uncertainly, "it appears to be a poem."

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When Robin gathered his senses, he could hardly remember his strange dream. His mind was too focused on the present—the cold, hard truth that he was still a prisoner to Scarecrow and Sportsmaster. When the Boy Wonder blinked open his eyes, he could feel the crust breaking away from his lashes. It seemed he had been asleep for a long period of time, and yet his body was all but relaxed. He was as he had been—strapped to the dentist's chair with the high-tech crown of thorns gripping onto his skull.

Stifling a groan, Robin tried to sit up, only to be reminded of the buckles that held down his elbows and ankles. Robin, with a sudden flare of panic, quickly looked down at this body with wide eyes. To his relief, Scarecrow hadn't seemed to do any damage to him. He was bruised in multiple places, his muscles ached, his hands were sliced from where they had been cut by the Arkenson Industries window, his burned right hand pulsed and red flesh visible beneath the cuts to his glove, dried blood ran down his chin from the scraps to the corner of his lips from the gag, his cheekbone ached from where one of the henchman had smacked him—yet this was how he had been previously. Scarecrow hadn't done anything physical to him while he was induced in the dark sleep, except electrocute him in the beginning. The villain's words rang in his head, "By the end of all this, you will hardly be able to walk."

And yet, as Robin looked down at his legs and wiggled his toes, they seemed perfectly fine. That can only mean one thing, Robin though, his chest tightening. This whole nightmare is far from over. But he must have been there for days…how long was he going to be held prisoner? They surely couldn't keep him here for months…

And he was going to make sure they didn't. With a newfound sense of determination, the teen gritted his teeth and began struggling. He pulled his arms, tugging them in every direction. The straps groaned in protest, and the buckles chimed violently against each other, but he pushed on. Soon, new sweat began to gather along his arms and pooled in the nooks of his elbows, which he was thankful for. The bands were strapped tightly over his skin, but maybe he could slide one arm out if it was slippery enough.

Letting out a low growl, Robin thrashed harder, twisting his arms in every way he could think of. His skin and muscles soon began to burn, but the teen continued, knowing that he must slip loose. A fate trapped in this white room, waiting for Scarecrow or Sportsmaster to come hunting, was all the reason he needed to continue through the pain. His hopes soon began to soar; his left arm was finally sliding! With a grunt, the Boy Wonder pulled his arm free.

Any thoughts of his great luck and amazement were thrust aside as Robin immediately sprang upon his right arm, fumbling with the golden buckle. In hardly any time at all, all the buckles were undone and he rose from the chair and shakily stood, panting. Biting his lip, Robin reached both hands behind his head to undo the fastenings on his techno crown. A sense of relief (as well as some blood from the object's spiny lining) greeted the teen as he removed it and gently set it down on the chair. He had to be careful not to make any noise—it was a miracle that he had escaped at all and extremely rare for someone like Sportsmaster to make such a simple mistake. All good villains learned how to properly tie down a victim, he assumed. Something must be off with the bulky man, but Robin didn't care. He was free, and for now, that was all that mattered.

Trying his best to be silent, Robin collected himself and quickly glanced around the white room. His eyes drifted to the weapons that hung, suspended, behind a lining of glass above the countertop. They seemed to wink at him, beckoning him closer to their sharp points, some still stained russet. Again, he was faced with a hard choice. He could try and grab a weapon before booking it out of this hell, or he could ignore them entirely and push on. It didn't seem that hard a choice—naturally, someone would snatch up a weapon like the cat pouncing on a mouse—but this case was different. There was a sliding door on the glass, but that could set off an alarm that would blared throughout the entire base, immediately alerting all goons to his sudden break-out. As he eyed the guns, whips, knives, etc., Robin guessed it was a fifty-fifty chance of there being an alarm. After all, he had been unattended in his torture room. That was simple mistake number two made by his captors. The Boy Wonder wasn't even a criminal, and yet he at least knew the basics.

But, maybe, it was a trap. Maybe it was intended. Maybe the duo had been careless on purpose. Were they just waiting for him to grab a weapon, and then set off an alarm? Perhaps the glass was burning hot, and they were just waiting for him to injure himself further. After all, Scarecrow had said something similar. Robin frowned, trying to recall the former professor's words. "Thought he was going to cut up that pretty face of yours? I won't let him…at least not yet. You will be getting plenty hurt, but not by either of our hands. Disappointed?"

That memory sent another shiver down Robin's spine. He swallowed hard, feeling an overwhelming sense of nervousness and frustration. This was his one chance to escape…he couldn't screw it up. Not yet, not now. Turning, Robin swept to the door and slowly turned the handle.

There was a chance that the door had an alarm too—in fact, now that Robin thought about it, everything could be booby-trapped—but no such ringing sounded. Taking a quiet breath, the teenager stuck his head out the door and looked both ways. To his great relief, nobody was there. It was just two long hallways running in each direction before both turning. His eyes scanned the space, but the search for an air vent proved futile. It seemed he would have to push his luck with running.

He reserved a few seconds for listening for approaching footsteps, but upon hearing nothing the Boy Wonder took off down the corridor to his right. As his feet moved over the hard flooring, Robin twisted his face in concentration, trying to wrap his mind around which way led to the surface. The larger henchman had smacked him across the face when they hauled him down, disorienting him, and now he couldn't recall the way from which he had come. Now it seemed he would have to do this the hard way…trying every possible path until he found the surface.

And so, he set to it. He ran down hallway after hallway, seeing the same scenery, trying to keep his movements down to a hush, while forcing himself to keep a straight head and do what he imagined Batman would have done in this situation. After about twenty minutes of searching, he began to lean strongly on the idea that his escape had been planned. There were no henchman—none at all. Soon, the Boy Wonder was sprinting down the halls, not giving a thought to being discrete. It was plain that nobody was here. He would surely have been found by now if they were.

But what other choice did he have? Batman had always told him that if you think ahead and see a criminal's plan, do the opposite of what they want, and above all don't fall into their trap. But he couldn't just stay here—that was downright stupid. If Scarecrow and Sportsmaster intended for him to escape for whatever reason, he was just going to be very careful as he did so.

And so Robin ran. He was in full flight, desperately trying to find a path that led upwards. Soon, his muscles began to ache and his injuries throbbed in time with the pounding of his pulse. Despite his longing for sunlight and freedom, the Boy Wonder slowed to a walk in order to catch his breath.

There was a point when he turned to the left, and reeled back in horror as a face suddenly appeared beside him. Only upon realizing that it was his own did the teenager relax his body once more. He did have to admit, he was in pretty bad condition. His body ached all over, but he didn't realize how, well, kidnapped he looked until he actually saw himself.

His uniform was torn all over—even shredded in some places. A large chunk of his cape was missing and appeared to have been burned away by the fire. Similar singe marks appeared on his chest, legs, boots, and even hair. Not only that, but he was covered in a layer of ash and grime. Dried blood still streaked his chin and lips, while fresh droplets trickled down his temple and hair from where the spikes in the crown had punctured his flesh. A swelling bruise ran all down the right side of his face from where the goon had punched him. The mask over his eyes was also torn and singed in some places.

Robin also took notice to his collar. He had honestly forgotten it was there at all, and reached his non-burnt hand up to feel around it. It was completely smooth—no buttons, nothing. The only thing that broke the surface was the single tiny spike that pricked the soft skin of his neck. It didn't really hurt and wasn't too much of a bother, but the fact that it blocked his mind-communication was a real setback. He assumed M'gann and J'onn were going to be scanning the mental waves in the area, trying to pick his up, and now they weren't going to be able to find him. Great.

Biting his lip lightly, Robin sped up his pace to a jog.

And that's when he found it. The heavenly light that seemed to pour down from above was real—not artificial. Sunlight. Pure sunlight.

Choking back a cry of relief, Robin clamored up the stairs, reaching out for the door that stood ajar at the top.

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Artemis' eyes widened as the words left Barry's lips. "A poem?"

"Apparently," Batman grunted, his voice tight. The archer watched, gaping, as his eyes scanned over the paper. The man's brow pinched together as he read.

"That's not fair," Kid Flash said, frowning.

"Read it out loud, if you can," Superman added, his voice slightly soft. "We all deserve to hear."

Batman swallowed. He stopped halfway through reading the note, then shifted his gaze to the top and began to read out loud from the beginning.

"City of Ashes, City of Dark,

Patrolled by a man with a bird on his heart.

But said bird was taken,

The young boy will die,

His world will be shaken,

When all hear his cry.

City of Bones, City of Blood,

Can bird-boy still make it when Fear starts to flood?

Faced with lies,

Laced in red,

A Robin can't fly,

When it's soon to be dead.

City of Cold, City of Rust,

What will Bats do when his soul turns to dust?

Without his old partner,

Devoid of all light,

Fear will run free,

As Scarecrow takes flight."

As Batman finished, Artemis could see his fists clenched on the paper, making it tremble. Lifting her gaze upward, she wasn't surprised to see is jaw tight and a scowl upon his face.

"Well," Black Canary started, breaking the silence, "unfortunately, it looks like this wasn't exactly a clue to Robin's location."

"No," Batman agreed, his voice acid. "It just confirms our fears. Scarecrow is planning to kill Robin."

"Which is why we are going to hurry and stop him," Superman said, putting a hand on Batman's shoulder. He tried to meet the Dark Knight's eyes, but they were deliberately glaring at the note.

"Who knew this guy could write poetry," Barry scoffed, trying, yet failing, to lift the depressing atmosphere. "I didn't think criminals appreciated literature."

"It just proves how well he's thought this out," M'gann said, her voice heavy. "He must have had this planned from awhile ago in order to have left this here when he took Robin, days ago."

"It almost seems," Wally added, disgust in his voice, "that Scarecrow is playing a game with us. Why else make a freaking poem? Why even bother? He probably wants to prove a point that he has planned ahead and this is all going according to his plan."

"He wants to shake us up," Artemis offered, surprised at herself for agreeing with what Wally had said. I guess people would naturally not argue in a crisis, she reminded herself dryly. "He wants us to be afraid of what's coming next. This only adds to the illusion that we're like a mouse and he's a lion."

"Either way, we can't let him intimidate us," Superboy growled, raising his head in determination.

"That is true," Kaldur agreed. He turned to Batman and Superman. "You have fought Scarecrow before, Batman. You know how his thinks and acts for the most part. You are aware of his mistakes, and can probably think how he must have fixed some of them by now. Robin, even if kidnapped, has been trained by you and fought with Scarecrow as well. He has picked up on your skills and tricks, and can apply them even in a dark situation. I may be the leader of this team, but Robin could be, if he wanted to."

At that, Batman looked up and scanned the assembled parties with his eyes. "Robin has fought Scarecrow before, but never on his own. I can only hope that he hasn't been induced with too much fear gas. Scarecrow has the upper-hand as for now, but once we find him, once I reach Robin—Scarecrow will wish he had never been born."

The Caped Crusader's eyes locked with Superman's, and they shared a long look. Then, the Man of Steel handed something to the other man.

Shifting to her tiptoes, Artemis could see past Captain Marvel's shoulder. Batman was holding the second envelope—the thicker one that obviously concealed something more than just paper.

Wordlessly, Batman ripped open the top and turned it over. A folded piece of paper and an iPhone tumbled onto his glove.

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In all Robin's days, he had never been so happy to feel wind whistle through his hair. The teenager stood, arms held wide, as the breeze blew against him and sunlight greeted his smiling face. He was out—he was free. He was no longer trapped in Scarecrow's maze, where he was confused and aching. Now, the tides had been turned. The game was fair once more.

Forcing himself into action, Robin looked around the landscape. He had just come out of the warehouse shed, and now stood on the grass outside. The scene was familiar—he could make out the place where the van had stopped and he had been blindfolded and hauled down to the dungeon. The area around him was dotted with oak trees, and encircling it was the sea of corn that seemed to dance in the breeze, seemingly waving at him with their long stalks. There was a dirt road, leading away through the one spot where the corn parted. The Boy Wonder assumed it was where the cars came and went and would lead back to the highway.

Where the van had been, there were now several different cars. All looked shockingly new and polished. The sun that floated directly above washed them in light, making the assorted vehicles sparkle. Robin cautiously peered around, making sure there were no henchman, then hurried over.

There were two cars, two trucks, one jeep, and a motorcycle. Instantly, Robin sprang upon the last item, admiring its beauty and inspecting its features. To his utter shock, a glint of silver he hadn't been expecting caught his eye near the handles. Keys!

Robin swung his leg over the side of the motorcycle and undid the foot-brake. Gripping the handles and ignoring the reel of pain from his burnt hand, the Boy Wonder shoved off the ground and cranked the handle. He accelerated forward and, with a newfound dash of hope and pure excitement, sped down the dirt path.

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Batman immediately took the phone and examined it. It was a black iPhone5, polished and new, gleaming in the dim light. Upon pressing the "Home" button, the lock screen flashed up. The background was of a bird—a robin, limp and lifeless on its back, stabbed through the heart. It made Batman sick.

Biting the inside of his cheek, the Caped Crusader slid the arrow over. To his dismay, rows of numbers appeared.

"It's locked," he grumbled.

Kid Flash, who was standing behind Barry stepped forward and examined it. "I can use my super-speed to try every lock combination there is. It would take thirty minutes at the most."

"That's impossible," Artemis snorted unhappily. "After a few attempts, the phone will lock up. Then you can't try any more at unlocking it until after a set amount of time. If you keep at it, the time it's locked up will increase. So in other words, you have to know the code before you try it."

"How are we supposed to know the code then?" Superboy asked, frowning.

"That letter in Batman's hand, I'm guessing," Green Arrow said, motioning to the man of which he spoke.

The Dark Knight felt all their eyes upon him once more, and didn't waste time when unfolding the new piece of paper. He read it out loud, trying to hide his frustration at the situation they were in.

"Salutations, Batman and friends. It seems you have underestimated me once again. Or at least Robin has. Either way, I have him hostage at the moment, as you well know. He is quite the spitting image of you, Batman…but he may look a little different when I'm through with him.

"If all goes according to my plan, you should have found this letter a few days after Robin was taken. By now, I will have already started my experiment on him. I'm sure you are dying to know the details—patience Baty. You will see in time. I won't let Sportsmaster rough him up too much. In all honesty you should be thanking me. But, I do have a master plan, as I'm sure you've already guessed. By kidnapping Robin, I am going to break him in ways that you can't imagine. I am going to alter his reality so much that he is going to lose his mind. And maybe a leg or two.

"Do you like the iPhone I stole? It's pretty handy. At least, it is when you can open it. You have probably figured out by now that it's locked. So the question is this—what's the four-number code? Clever, aren't I? It may be tricky to figure out, so here's a hint: When I went on a road trip to Texas in my car, I took two extra tires.

"You better hurry though. Robin's life may depend on it. Remember one thing Batman—death is always waiting with open jaws. As long as your heart is safe, death cannot sink its teeth into you just yet. But, oh yes, your heart is rather cold, isn't it? I've heard the word that Robin had become your new one. I wonder what will happen when he dies?

"You know, death isn't just an action, a condition. It's a state of mind—a form of fear. Good luck, Batman. It must be interesting playing a game you are destined to lose."