AN: So this chapter was a little painful to write, but it was an interesting journey. Again, we don't own anyone from the DCU. And thank you so much to everyone who has reviewed – it means the world.

Chapter Five

The second shot of the new and improved Nightmare toxin had hit Dick with more force than any punch he'd ever received in his life. It was almost as if he could feel his veins open, feel the adrenaline pump into his system, a blazing fire and cooling water combined. He could literally feel his pupils dilate as his vision swam, and became fuzzy as he tried to blink it away. Dick could see Jason, extending his pistols, surrendering. He didn't know if Tim and Damian had gotten away; he hoped they had. Holding off enemies was something Dick Grayson was a practiced hand in, and Jason was one of the toughest men he knew, Bruce included. They could hold off long enough for help to arrive. Dick didn't know it yet, but that was the last rational thought he'd have for a while.

His eyes rolled back into his head.

When he opened his eyes, Dick was standing on a platform high above a dirt floor. The top of the black and orange circus tent was so close he could almost touch it. Dick glanced down; his clothes had changed. Instead of his Nightwing outfit, he now wore navy blue pants, and a red, sleeveless spandex top with gold wings near his ribs. As he looked up, the crowd roared.

"And now, for their final trick, the magnificent Flying Graysons will perform without the aid of a net." Dick immediately recognized the voice as belonging to Jack Haley, but couldn't see him. In fact, he couldn't see the crowd that roared its approval either, ready for the family, his family's famous final act. Movement to his right caught his eye, and he froze as he saw red hair cascading down the back of a costume similar to his own.

"Mom!" The words were shouted, but his mother made no movement that she could hear him. "MOM!" Her head turned ever so slightly.

"Stay here, my little robin," her voice was soft, familiar. A smile creased her face. "Stay here where it is safe." Dick saw her leap from the platform, her hands clenched around the trapeze. Movement to his left startled him for a moment, and he saw his father wink before leaping out as well. Across the tent, his aunt, uncle, and cousin all swung outward for the daring final act.

Everything moved in slow motion. He wanted to scream a warning, wanted to tell them to stop, to come back to the platform. To come back to where it was safe. Dick knew exactly where to look, knew where to spot the rope snapping. He heard the shriek of the crowd. The shriek from his mother. They all fell in slow motion, eyes wide, terror painting their faces as they fell, rather than flew, through the air.

Dick placed a hand against the support beam holding the platform and lunged off after his family. Things moved quicker now, but so did his brain. If he could catch them, he could turn and use his grappling hook, save them. One of his own hands brushing against his hip told him that his utility belt, and therefore his grappling hook, was not there. It didn't matter. If he could just catch them, he could find a way to save them. If he could just catch them, he could find a way to save them all.

He drew closer to his mother, his arms outstretched for her as she reached back for him. Dick stretched, trying to increase his reach, trying for every inch he could get. If he could just catch her, he could save her.

The ground was approaching fast behind her. And then it wasn't. The ground opened up into a massive black hole, a maw to swallow them all as they fell. Dick still stretched out his hands to his mother. If he could just catch her, he could save her.

His eyes were locked with hers. Dick's fingers inched outward, almost brushing hers. And then she disappeared. Her image, her form, dissolved into the blackness. That same blackness swallowed Dick's scream, and he turned at the very last instant to the see the final speck of orange and black from the circus tent blink away as he continued to fall.

Jason did his best impersonation of the infamous Batman scowl as he was marched down the hallway, one of his own guns pressing tightly in to the back of his head. Four goons had been appropriated, just for him. He had one on either side, each gripping an arm. Two more walked behind him, the one on the left holding the gun to the base of his skull. They didn't need to bother, Jason wasn't going anywhere. Not while two other men dragged the unconscious Nightwing in front of him. Scarecrow was at the head of this precession from Hell.

"My associate has already been notified of your capture," the masked man informed him. "It won't be too long before all four of you can be reunited."

"Fat chance," Jason scoffed. "Those kids are already off the fucking island by now." He hopped they were at least out of the factory.

"Your bravado is amusing, if unnecessary," Scarecrow informed him coldly. "Besides, I feel as though they wouldn't leave you and Nightwing behind. You're always looking out for each other, aren't you? Isn't that what got you into this mess?"

Jason didn't answer. It was pretty hard to think up some scathing remark while Dick spasmed on the floor in front of him. He could feel his stomach twisting in knots. How the hell was he going to get them out of this?

"Here we are!" Scarecrow chirped happily as he came to a stop. He turned to address the two men dragging Dick. "Get him tied to the chair and hooked up to the monitor. I don't want to miss any more of these beautiful visions he must be having."

"If you think for one minute that I'm going to let him out of my-" Jason started to yell as the men pulled Dick through the door. Scarecrow waved off his concerns, as well as the man pressing the cold steal of his pistol into his head.

"Mister Hood, please. You're in no position to make demands. However, this room here is for you, and the two younger brats once they've been found." He opened this door with a flourish. "From here, you'll be able to see everything." The men holding him shoved Jason roughly into the room, almost sending him to his knees. He stumbled to a stop in front of a ceiling to floor window. On the other side of the glass, Dick was being manhandled into a chair.

The original Boy Wonder twisted and jerked, his head slamming against the chair back as they pressed small pads onto his temples. The Scarecrow came to stand in the doorway, just far enough out of Jason's reach.

"If he comes to, he won't see anything but a mirror, himself – his own suffering. But you…you'll get to see every painful twitch and shudder. You'll be able to hear every pathetic, wounded moan escape his lips." Jason wanted to rush him, to make him hurt, to break something, but he knew whatever he did would only bring Dick more pain. He would bide his time, for now. "Don't worry, Red Hood, you'll be able to see everything, even the visions in his head." With a click of a remote, a large screen descended from the ceiling in Dick's room. "My men already have it recording, but I'll wait to turn it on until you have some more company, hmm? Enjoy the show, Mister Hood." And with that, the Scarecrow exited, the door slamming shut behind him.

Jason could feel his stomach drop as he turned his eyes towards Nightwing. He already knew about some of the things that haunted Dick's dreams. The two of them had spent long nights in Eastern Europe drinking and fighting each other instead of dealing with their own demons. He wasn't sure he was prepared to witness them first hand.

The deep purple of the bioship's interior wall stared back at him. Dick felt M'gann expertly swing her baby around and lower it towards the ground. The second the white daylight of the arctic pierced the darkness of the bioship's hold, he was sprinting out. Dick was vaguely aware of Artemis right beside him, but his larger concern was the spinning tornado of energy in front of him. It was the magnetic field disrupter gone chrysalis, and the only hope of stopping it was the three speedsters currently running in the opposite direction of the energy tornado's flow. Well, two speedsters and his best friend.

"Come on. Enjoy the moment, my friend. You've earned it." Wally's last words echoed in his head. Dick knew what was coming. This scene had replayed over in his mind dozens, if not hundreds, of times in the past three-plus years.

"Look, it's working! They're shutting it down!" Dick heard the words come out of his mouth, saw his arm point towards the stream of energy the speedsters were putting out to counter the chrysalis. But he wasn't making those movements. He wasn't saying those words. It was like he was a spectator inside his own body to a movie he had seen far too many times, to a film he already knew the heart-wrenching, horrible ending to.

And then everything slowed down. He could suddenly see the speedsters running. Dick could see Barry and Bart, clear as day, but saw his best friend like he was looking right through him. Wally's outline was hollow, nearly transparent. Barry was next to him, shouting words that Dick couldn't hear. And that's when Dick saw the flash. Not The Flash, though he could still see Barry running clear as anything. No, he saw the flash, that flash that signaled that his best friend, the Robin to his Batman, was gone.

Later, Dick knew Jamie's scarab would explain that Wally had "ceased", as it called it. That his physical form was no longer present. But as the chrysalis ended and the smoke cleared, Dick already knew what he would find as he ran towards it. His mind wanted to scream.

"Wally. Wally! WALLY!" He didn't even mentally register Artemis' plaintive plea for her boyfriend, or Barry's words to her. He'd heard them all before, both as they happened and in his nightmares since. He knew every haunting syllable, all thirteen of them. Every single syllable that said Wally was gone. He watched Artemis drop to the ground, watched M'gann rush to her side, and exchanged a long look with Kaldur. Wally was gone, and it was all his fault. As tears began to well up in his eyes, Dick's head bowed towards the ground as the world faded to black again.

This night was undoubtedly working its way towards being one of Tim's least favorite nights. Ever. And that was saying something. He wasn't ready to call it the worst, not yet, but he knew it was far from over. There was plenty of time for them to all die horribly.

"Idiots," Damian half moaned next to him. "You're all complete morons…" Tim didn't have time to deal with the kid's mouth. He placed a hand over it gently, afraid he might bite him, or worse yet, puke on him. They were currently hiding behind a stack of industrial strength storage crates, and Tim really, really, didn't feel like attracting the attention of the men currently stomping past them.

"Listen, Robin," he hissed directly into Damian's ear. "When we get out of here and Oracle is finished murdering all of us, then you can say whatever you want. But until then, shut up and just be rescued."

Damian shuddered violently in his grip, making Tim pull back slightly. The youngest Wayne turned his eyes to meet him sadly.

"You don't get it…" he whispered, looking the most remorseful Tim had ever seen. "Scarecrow…he wanted you here…he…" But he couldn't continue, his head lulling down against his chest. Whatever Damian had been drugged with, it was strong. Either that, or he'd been given a dose much too big for his small size. Tim grabbed him, tightly pressing him up against the wall, mentally willing him to stay awake.

"Scarecrow?" he asked as loudly as he dared. He shook Damian slightly. "Come on, D, stay with me. Tell me about Scarecrow."

Tim did his best to breathe deeply and not to scream as Damian struggled to remain conscious. Whenever anyone started listing Batman's worst villains they always started with the Joker. Everyone agreed that he was a sadistic madman; Tim didn't disagree with them either. He couldn't. Not after everything that psycho had done. But as to whom the second worst villain was? Each of the Robins had their own opinion there. Different people would pick different villains depending on positive and negative interactions. Dick, for example, took an extreme issue with Two Face, as there was some suspicion Zucco might have working for Dent when he killed the Flying Graysons. Then there was the time Bruce's ol' pal Harvey took a baseball bat to Dick and well… yeah.

Tim, however, placed another villain a lot higher than most. The Scarecrow. Dr. Jonathan Crane had found a way to master fear – to make it obey his whims, and that thought placed the Scarecrow pretty high above the other villains in Tim's book. And now he was suppose to believe that man was here, that his toxin had somehow been made stronger?

"Come on," he pleaded, fingers gripping Damian's arms tightly. "Talk to me."

"Him and Bane," Damian managed to croak out. "New formula…nightmares." The kid shook himself fully, his eyes snapping open wider as he became more cognizant of his surroundings. "Where are the others?" he asked, a hint of desperation in his voice. His blue eyes darted around, taking in every detail of his surroundings.

"You were there," Tim told him. "We got ambushed. Hood and Nightwing handed you off to me and told us to run."

"And you listened?!" he demanded, his fingers digging into Tim's flesh.

"It isn't like I had much of a choice!" Tim shot back, shoving the kid from him slightly, only to regret it as he teetered and sat back on the floor. "You weren't exactly in fighting condition!"

"He's going to get them," Damian insisted darkly, dropping his head into his hands. "He wants them as test subjects. Dr. Crane has a new formula… that's why I was kidnapped." Tim swallowed heavily as the realization hit him.

"We have to go back," he said. "We have to go to them. They don't even have gas masks with them."

"They won't need them, Niños." There came another voice from Tim's worst nightmares. "This new formula has to be introduced directly into the bloodstream. It's a kink we're still trying to work out." Tim felt his blood run cold, watched as the grim resignation hit Damian's face, seconds before Bane's hand wrapped tightly around his throat from behind. Effortlessly, Bane lifted Tim from his feet and slammed him quickly against the wall. Somehow, ears ringing, Tim managed to stay conscious.

"Stop it," he heard Damian demand as he scrambled weakly to his feet. Damian swayed unsteadily, completely undermining his authoritative tone. "We'll go with you."

"Of course you will," Bane offered with a smile. "We wouldn't want you to miss the show."

"Show?" Tim asked, trying his best to resist the way Bane was currently steering him down the hall. Bane's laughter rang sickly through his ears.

"Sí, un espectáculo grande. We'll have him all hooked up so you can see his nightmares."

Tim didn't let himself start to wonder which of his older brothers had been dosed with the toxin. He didn't want to let himself start trying to imagin which of their nightmares and fears he'd soon be seeing first hand. So instead he focused on the number of doors they passed on their way. By the time they'd gotten to door number fifty-two, they were greeted by a group of Bane's lackies. Both he and Damian were patted down, belts taken, before being shoved roughly through the door.

Jason stood before them. He was a little bloody and probabaly pretty bruised, but he didn't look like he was fighting any invisible monsters. At least not yet. Tim's eyes searched the room frantically for any sign of Dick. Jason flicked his head angerly towards what appeared to be a window, proabaly a two way mirrior.

On the other side Dick sat tied tightly to a chair, his eyes closed, but his body twitching violently agiasnt his restraints.

"Now that you're all here," came the modified voice of Doctor Johnathan Crane. "It's time to turn on the video screens. Let's see what your Nightwing is afraid of shall we?" The screen flashed to life before their eyes, the pictures in Dick's head up for all to see.

Tim swallowed hard, already knowing that little brothers were never meant to see the things that hanuted the dreams of their older brothers. They were not supsoed to know that kind of fear.

Dick bolted upright, his eyes flying open. His breathing was heavy, labored, and his costume felt oppressively tight. He'd been sweating, profusely, but as his breathing began to normalize he realized something else. He'd been sleeping. Damian getting captured, the mission going horribly wrong, watching his parents die, watching Wally die, it had all been a dream. A horrible dream to be sure, but a dream nonetheless.

"Robin, are you on scene yet?" Dick jumped at the sound of Bruce's voice in his ear. He hadn't realized he'd fallen asleep with his communicator on. While he wondered why he hadn't heard the previous radio communications from Batman, he figured they must have just been keeping radio silence until now.

"Just arrived. Two trucks out front, no markings. No bozos, either. They must already be inside." Dick was slightly surprised to hear Tim's voice, as he'd been expecting Damian's. Bringing up his wrist computer, he quickly located Tim's signal. Business district... right down the street from Wayne Enterprises. That was worrying, and no wonder Bruce sounded concerned. But why wasn't Bruce there with Tim?

"You rest up, Bats. We'll handle this." We?

'Oh, no," Dick thought. 'He's alone with Damian, they're going to kill each other...' Quickly hopping off his bed, Dick looked around his sparse Gotham flat. He walked over to a wall that was peeling wallpaper as if it was viciously offended by it and tapped three times. A small portion of the wall slid away, revealing a safe that scanned his retinas. After it opened, Dick removed the necessary supplies, stuffing them into his belt. He thought about grabbing double, just in case he had to break up Damian and Tim, but hoped his mere presence would be enough.

His motorcycle was parked out in the alley, right where he always left it. With a familiar and satisfying roar, it came to life, and soon he was speeding towards downtown Gotham, towards the business district.

When he arrived at the building where Tim's locator signal was coming from, Dick could see the two black trucks the younger boy had described. Parking his motorcycle behind some other cars, he sprinted to the edge of the construction site and fired his grappling hook straight up, feeling it catch and lift him into the air.

After repeating this step a few times, his wrist computer indicated he was a level above where the younger Robin was. Moving stealthily along a support beam, Dick saw the outline of someone dart across a shadow below him. Just as he was about to drop down to that level, another shadow darted out from behind a stack of building supplies, a bo staff whirling at the first shadow's head. The first man dropped like a brick, and as he hit the floor, his head dropped into a sliver of light provided by the moon. Dick stopped as he saw the man wearing a Joker mask.

As he crouched to leap down, Tim turned and motioned to someone out of Dick's line of vision. But all it took was a flash of red hair to make him freeze. Barbara? Here? As Batgirl and walking? The questions mounted faster. The mission had been a dream, seeing his parents die and seeing Wally die had been nightmares. Seeing Barbara here, did that mean that the last five-plus years was a dream? Had he never gone and found Jason in Eastern Europe? Had he never left her, the team? Had he never broken her heart?

Dick decided not wait for the answers. He jumped down, sprinting over to them. Dick knew there were still enemies in the area, but at the at moment he didn't care. Barbara was walking again, she seemed happy. It was everything he wanted for her.

"Robin, Batgirl!" He nearly shouted their names. They didn't react. Dick ran up until he was almost behind them. Neither acknowledged his presence.

"Nice job there, Robin," Barbara said, rubbing her gloved hand through the younger man's hair. "He never saw you coming."

"Thanks, Batgirl." Though Barbara turned to sprint away, Dick noticed Tim's eyes following her for the briefest of seconds before following after her. As Dick opened his mouth to say something, two goons jumped out from the shadows, both wearing Joker masks. Barbara leapt at one of them, spinning as she aimed a kick at his face. Tim went after the other, his bo staff flashing in the darkness.

As Dick watched the two of them move with a practiced choreography that he and Barbara used to have, two more goons appeared around the corner behind him. Dick turned, hands rising into a battle-ready stance, but the two goons did not seem to be interested in him. Both seemed fixated on the fight going on behind the original Boy Wonder.

Dick swung at the first goon to come within range, a fist aimed straight for the center of the man's face. Except his fist passed straight through it. And not just the man's face, the follow through carried Dick's body through the goon's as well. But that meant...

'NO!' Dick screamed the word, even though he knew no one could hear it. This was another nightmare, another one of the visions brought on by Scarecrow's... whatever it was.

The goons charged at his two former partners. Both began fighting faster, more frantically. They weren't choreographing their moves together anymore, now it was more about survival. Dick recognized the patterns, the problems. Tim, more used to fighting with Bruce, was struggling to hold his own against the two goons, since Batman usually attracted more of the attention. And Barbara, used to fighting with him, wasn't getting the type of support she was used to in battle.

Slowly, the fight began to move Barbara and Tim apart. There was nothing Dick could do, even though he wanted to. He wanted to so badly, he wanted to save them, wanted to help them, wanted to stop what he could only assume was the calamity coming next.

And then he saw it. The open door. A side kick from a Joker-masked thug sent Barbara flying through that door, which promptly closed, shutting her off from Tim. From help. Dick began sprinting. If he could pass through a goon, he was sure that he could pass through a wall. And if he couldn't, he was bound and determined to break through it.

As he approached the wall dividing Barbara from him, from the world, everything went silent. So silent he could no longer hear the sounds of the fight, or his frantic, sprinting steps, or his breathing. He couldn't hear the pulsating beat of his own heart. Instead, he only heard one sound.

Click.

A gun cocking. Dick leapt, flying through the wall, which was left unscathed. He stumbled to a halt inside the room. The scene in front of him froze, parts of seconds seeming to take full minutes.

Next to him, he saw the Joker, a sadistic smile coating his face, a small black gun held in his hand. In front of him, and Dick, knelt Barbara, hands on the ground, still wheezing, still trying to recover from having the wind knocked out of her by the goon's kick.

He saw it all. The Joker's finger slowly tightening on the trigger. Barbara's eyes widening as she glanced up. The sweat running from under her mask. The Joker's pulse quickening, a vein in his neck bulging.

But the slowness of the scene also allowed Dick to see something else. He could see his reflection in Barbara's eyes. His sleek form, blue bird emblazoned across his chest... and a black gun in his hand. As her eyes locked with his, she gasped out a word, still trying to breathe.

"Dick..."

The gun went off. Barbara slumped to the ground. Everything went black.