AN: Hey there, we wanted to tank everyone who has been reading and reviewing. Your feedback means a lot! Just warning you that if you haven't felt the story has lived up to it's higher rating – it does here. There were parts that made me squeamish.

Chapter Six

Everything was his fault. While he was incredibly reluctant to admit it to himself, and he would never admit it out loud, Damian had to accept that it was unequivocally true. If he hadn't been a moron, if he hadn't been so damn insistent and determined to prove himself, Damian knew that they wouldn't be in this mess right now. He just hoped that when he finally got the chance to awkwardly apologize to Oracle, she'd still be willing to forgive him.

He winced as a scene from Grayson's nightmares played out before his eyes. Damian couldn't decide which was more unsettling, the vision itself, or the way that Dick twisted and jerked in the chair. For a long time, none of them said anything, their eyes watching the screen helplessly. Todd was the first one to more.

Damian watched the older man ungracefully push himself back from the wall. He wordlessly moved to stand in front of Drake, holding his tied arms out awkwardly. Hesitantly, Drake picked at the knot, waiting form someone to come in and stop them. No one did. After several long moments with only the weak moans of Nightwing coming from the other room, Damian snapped.

"Did you tell him, then?" he asked, eyes leveled at Drake. He was angry, at himself more than anyone, but he needed to release it. Drake was, as per usual, the easiest target. When he didn't respond, Damian got to his feet unsteadily moving towards him. "Did you tell him how it happened? After Batman told us not to? That it was her story to tell?" Nothing came out of Drake's mouth. There was no indication that he had even heard Damian speak. It was completely unacceptable. Damian used all of his strength to shove the older boy into the glass. He barely made it back to the corner before dropping back to the floor, his energy spent.

"That's what happened?" The Hood asked in disbelief. Damian only shrugged.

"No…not… not exactly," Drake stuttered finally.

"What do you mean, 'not exactly?'" The anger in Todd's voice was thinly veiled. Damian could see the regret and the pain in Drake's posture as he finally peeled his eyes away from the glass.

"We were out on patrol together," he started nervously. "And then, I don't know…we got separated." He looked like he was going to be sick, but Damian, who had heard the story before just watched as Todd advanced on the trembling Drake. He almost felt sorry for him.

"Dose Di- Nightwing know that?" Tim shook he head. "Fuck," Jason swore. He punched the glass as other images swam across the screen projecting the thoughts of their older brother – nothing concrete, but images of pain nevertheless. Damian was thoroughly disappointed to see that the glass appeared completely unharmed. "FUCK!" Todd whirled on him as though suddenly remembering he was in the same room as a ten year old. Tt. Damian scowled but said nothing. He knew how to say worse than that in at least four different languages.

Before he could offer up a retort to Todd about using such language, the lights in Grayson's holding cell went out. Damian froze, and could feel the other boys freeze as well as they all listened as the door to the oldest boy's prison swung open, and cold, measured steps slowly made their way into the room.

Damian heard the scrape of cloth on the glass, and knew that Todd must be pressing himself against it, straining to see who, or what, was on the other side and invading Grayson's room. There was silence for a few seconds, and then a loud clank of metal on concrete shattered that serenity. The lights burst back on, stinging his eyes like a supernova. Damian heard a sharp intake of breath, and as his eyesight began to clear, he understood why.

But as much as the terror in the next room should have drawn his attention, he was instead focused on Todd. The older boy was a dichotomy of emotions, a split as sharp as Damian had never seen in a person not named Dent. One hand hung loosely by Jason's side, while the other pressed up against the glass, straining, almost as if trying to break through in a sheer force of will. One corner of his mouth hung open in a silent anguish, of nightmares of his own coming back to life, while the other corner scowled in want of a mighty revenge.

"Holy mother of Gotham fucking a badger sideways..." Damian paused. He loathed to teach Drake anything, but some new curse words were definitely in order.

A flash of movement drew his attention back to Grayson's cell. He turned just in time to see the crowbar slammed into Nightwing's foot.

Pain. Well, physical pain. It was a sharp, physical pain that brought him back to a semi-reality following that sea of mental anguish. Seeing Barbara be shot... he wasn't sure how close he'd come to the edge of losing his mind, but he didn't want to get that close again.

Now, though, Dick Grayson wasn't sure if the Nightmare toxin was wearing off, of if the crowbar jammed into his foot had simply made it seem that way. He tried to focus his eyes on it. Squinting, he could still feel his mask clinging to his face. 'Good,' he thought, 'at least we don't have to worry about that yet.'

Dick's eyes zeroed in on the crowbar, just as it twisted into his foot again. A grunt of pain escaped his lips as his eyes looked past it to the pair of black shoes standing on the cool grey concrete. But it wasn't the shoes that caught his eye, instead it was the purple pants just above those shoes. Those purple pants covering a pair of skinny legs, leading to a black belt, a purple jacket, and a dark green shirt. Dick didn't even need to see the purple tie, orange collar, black gloves covering pale skin, or the white face and green hair to know exactly who was crushing his right foot.

The Joker.

Dick watched the Joker's fingers tighten on the end of the crowbar, lifting it slowly before driving it sharply downward into his foot again. This time, a howl of agony flew from Dick's lips as his head snapped up to look into the Joker's face for the first time. His own eyes narrowed as he stared deep into the Joker's grey ones, a snarl crossing his lips. The Joker smiled as he stepped away.

"Oh good, the original bat brat is awake. I wanted to make sure that you heard what happened to dear little Barbara from me personally." The Joker started to laugh. At first, it sounded more like a wheeze but then crescendoed into a cackle that bounced off the walls of small holding room where Dick was being kept prisoner.

Dick tried to jump at the Joker. Tried to launch himself, shattered foot and all, at the bane of his and Bruce's existence. At the man who had nearly taken Barbara from him. Who had taken Jason from them all. But he couldn't. His arms and legs strained against what bound him to the chair, and as Dick looked down, he realized that the only way he was getting out of this chair was if someone cut him out.

"Now now, Number One, we wouldn't want you getting up and ruining the story. To interrupt would be so rude." The Joker swung the crowbar at Dick's right knee, and the crack of the impact the crowbar made with the side of it almost drowned out another agony-filled yell. "Someone has to teach you some manners after all." Dick didn't move, didn't speak. He tried to control his breathing, control the pain he felt coursing up and down his right leg.

"I'm flattered that I'm on your mind so much, Boy Wonder." The Joker's tone changed, one that was lighter. Almost flirty. "I never knew you cared." Another cackle, followed by another lightning strike of pain to his knee. Dick leaned down as far as he could, nearly doubled over in agony. But besides another grunt of pain, he remained silent.

"I'd forgotten how much fun I could have with a bat brat and a crowbar," the Joker nearly giggled as he feigned another swing at Dick's knee. "But now to the main event of the evening. Your nightmares are charming, Boy Wonder, but there's nothing quite like the real thing to stoke the mind, you know?" Another cackle and suddenly the Joker was crouching in front of Dick, their faces mere inches apart.

"Has anyone ever told you how young Barbara pined for her sweet Nightwing after he left? How she hoped? How she dreamed?" The Joker's voice got lower with each question, nearly forcing Dick to lean in more to hear the story. "Every night, she left her window open for the Boy Wonder. What was she hoping for? Boy, I wonder..." Another cackle as the Joker sprang back, spinning and throwing his hands wide.

"Observe, bat brat." He waved his left hand out in front of him, beginning to set the scene. "Here, sweet Barbara sleeps, innocently. Though not so innocently, am I right?" A laugh, higher pitched this time. "There," a hand shoots out to his right, "the door, where just down the hall her roommate sleeps." Finally, the Joker moves his left hand out to his own left, gesturing up and down. "And here, her window, left open, one assumes, for a figure dressed in black to come flying through," the Joker clasped his hands as if smitten, "and sweep her off her feet. Quite a daring thing to do with another girl just feet away, wouldn't you say, Boy Wonder? It must not have been so "wonderful" if you couldn't even make it so she could hear the two of you." He leapt back, landing in front of Dick, their faces barely parted once again.

"She did this every night, Boy Wonder. Every night she left that window open or unlocked in the hope that you would return from your quest to... what was it everyone was calling... finding yourself?" The Joker's head was thrown back in a long, sharp laugh. "Forgive me. But I mean, if you had trouble finding yourself, it's no surprise you lost her." The word "her" was turned into a low, guttural laugh that quickly turned manic.

"So once I find out this tasty little morsel of information, which really was quite delicious I must say, I just had to see if the rumor was true for myself. And much to my surprise, it was. Now I don't fly around like you do, or did..." another manic laugh followed as the crowbar was tapped against Dick's lower leg, sending a further wave of pain shooting up through his body, "but it was fairly easy to get up into her window. And do you know what I saw, Boy Wonder? Of course you do, you'd seen it many times before." The Joker's body flew backward again, once more setting himself as the master of ceremonies for his sick little play.

"It was a warm summer night, with a full moon. She was just wearing..." a slow breath in was followed by a sinister smile as the Joker looked right at Dick, "a t-shirt. It was a little big for her but she filled it out very well. I assume it was one of yours. Still holding on to some sad, sick feeling... I'm not sure what to call it. Hope? That works. Anyway, she's wearing a t-shirt, and the moon, the moon is illuminating her just right." The Joker took a step closer to Barbara's imaginary bed, his hands floating over it like a magician performing a trick.

"Besides the t-shirt, she was wearing... well, I don't know. This thin sheet covered her body from the waist down. But I could see her legs, those dancer's legs, those legs toned by so many years at Batgirl, outlined underneath that sheet." He paused for a moment, looking right at Dick. "Those legs, so familiar to you, wrapped so many times around your waist." A shriek of laughter before the Joker continued the scene.

"So you know what I did then, Boy Wonder? I... watched her. How she slowly moved in her sleep, how every once in a while a smile would cross her lips, her hair bunching around her face. Well, this all got much too sentimental for me, so I had to pull out my gun." His face turned back to Dick, a frown crossing for the briefest of seconds.

"Not like you would pull out your gun on her, you pervert. I pulled out my firearm. Wait... that doesn't work either." The Joker turned away for a moment, mumbling to himself. "I pulled out my piece? No, no. My Glock? Too similar. This is my rifle, this is my gun? Oh, nevermind." He turned back, his hand moving towards his crotch for a moment before sliding to his pocket to pull out a small, black gun with a silencer attached.

"This is what I pulled out, Boy Wonder. This very gun. I still keep it for sentimental value," his voice quivered as he started laughing again, almost doubling over in joy as his story continued. "She must have heard the metal scrape against the cloth of my pants, because she stirred. You had her trained very well, bat brat, that she could identify a sound like that. And you know what she said?" Suddenly, the Joker leapt forward, one foot in between Dick's legs, his mouth right by his ear. His voice took on a relieved, almost female tonality.

"You. Came. Back." This time, the Joker's laughed reverberated off the walls. His reflection from the television screens cackled back at him, and he jumped in the air as his laughter continued and he moved back to illustrate the scene. "You came back, is what she said. To me, thinking I was you. She was so ready for you, bat brat. Would have let you take her right there, had you been the one in her room. No "where have you been?", no "how could you leave me?", just a relieved "you came back"." The Joker stood in place, raising the gun and pointing it at the imaginary bed.

"So I 'raised' my gun, Boy Wonder. And then I 'cocked' it. And then, and this one is just really too good to pass up, I 'shot off' and 'penetrated' her." More cackling, more almost giddy bouncing and then the Joker was right back in Dick's face again, a finger jamming into his midsection, right near his belly button.

"Right. There. A little lower than where that bullseye on her chest always was, but really, how could I ruin what was going on up there?" The Joker poked a finger into Dick's chest before he pulled back again, his demeanor suddenly becoming much more sullen. "But do you know the worst part? The little bat brat didn't scream. Didn't make a sound. Her eyes were open, of course, and she could see that it was me, not you, who had crept into her bedroom and penetrated her... but she never screamed. She never begged." His breathing got more heavy as he turned his back to Dick, yelling at the wall.

"I live for the screaming. I live for the begging. She wouldn't do any of it for me." The Joker's body turned, his eyes wide, even more manic than before, if it were possible. But his voice was suddenly much lower, so much so that Dick could barely hear him. "So you know what I did, Boy Wonder?" He paused. "I watched her. I watched her upper body slowly writhe while her legs stayed still. I watched her eyes dart around, looking for something, anything to save her. Looking for you." The Joker slowly began walking towards Dick as he continued speaking.

"I kept watching her until she stopped moving. Until those sheets were stained as red as her hair, and her skin as pale as the moonlight coming through her window. And then I leaned down, brushed the hair from her forehead, and did this." The Joker leaned forward and planted a kiss right in the middle of Dick's forehead. Dick recoiled from the physical touch, fighting to keep the hatred inside of him from boiling over, and fighting the bile that was creeping up his throat.

"And do you know what I did then, Boy Wonder?" The Joker moved so his face was just inches in front of Dick's again. "I left. I left her laying there. Just like you did."

Those were the words that sent Dick over the edge. He gathered some of that bile in the back of his throat and spat, a large, runny mass landing on the Joker's cheek. The Joker's hand swiftly followed, striking Dick's cheek in a rage as he reached down to pick up the crowbar.

"Do you know what I did to the last bat brat who spat in my face? Of course you do, you brought him back." The Joker raised the crowbar, staring down at Dick, who didn't flinch. "I will teach you all some manners!" Before he could swing, a new voice crackled through a speaker in the room.

"Put it down, Joker. You know the rules." Dick recognized that voice. Scarecrow. His eyes widened slightly but he didn't say a word. He continued staring down the Joker, before the clown finally dropped the crowbar, the metal ringing out against the concrete.

"Seems like you have a guardian angel today, Boy Wonder. Too bad poor Barbara didn't have one that night." With that, the Joker turned on the heel of one of his black shoes, and strode out of the holding cell, slamming the door behind him.

Dick's body started to shake as he closed his eyes. The room was now silent, save for the slightly heaving gasps of him crying.