Black sat on the couch, criss-cross applesauce, with his hands in his lap. He hadn't bothered to put on his shirt, and merely laid it on the couch next to him.

A few moments passed in silence as Bruce tried to determine where to begin.

"What do you remember about your parents?" He finally asked.

"Um…" Black tapped his chin thoughtfully, his eyes screwed shut tight and his lips pursed. "I dunno."

"Really think. You can take the photo out to look at it if that helps."

He removed the photo from his pocket, which fortunately had a plastic sleeve over it to keep it safe during his manic episodes. He placed it on the table and then leaned forward, chin in his hands to study it.

The other Titans tried to get a closer look as well. From their perspective, it was a husband and wife in matching shirts. The wife was blonde, while the husband had black hair like Robin.

"My daddy…is really strong. He…used to throw me in the air."

Bruce nodded. "Good. What about your mom?"

"She is…really pretty, and sings a lot."

At this point, Alfred returned with the item Bruce requested. A child's stuffed elephant. Well loved and worn. He handed it to Bruce, who held it out to Black.

"Do you know what this is?"

Black's eyes widened as he took the toy like it was precious treasure. "Zitka…"

"Where'd you get it?"

"My daddy gave it to me. I named it after my friend—" he gasped and stood abruptly. "I remember now! We're circus performers! The Flying Graysons!" His voice changed. As Black, his voice was more child-like, like a cartoon character. But now it deepened and sounded almost like Robin. "We perform at Haly's Circus, and we're the headline act! I remember our car! And where the dressing tent was set up and how we did the rigging! I remember all of it! We can go! I know where we can find them!"

Bruce took a deep breath, bracing for what was about to happen. "What happened in Gotham?"

Black frowned. "I…I'm not sure."

"Close your eyes and think."

Black obeyed, hugging the elephant to his chest.

"You saw a man talking to Mr. Haly, right?" Bruce prompted.

Black nodded. "Yeah…yeah, I see it. He was kinda ugly and scary and was telling Mr. Haly about insurance, but Mr. Haly just yelled at him. I saw him again later that night…leaving the tent."

Bruce didn't prompt him anymore, just bit his thumb anxiously.

The Titans watched Black pace back and forth, a scene playing out in his head.

It was then that Bruce was finally able to see the tattoo covering his back. He clenched his teeth in anger, but said nothing.

"I told my dad that I saw him earlier, threatening Mr. Haly, but he told me not to worry about it. So I didn't. I trust him. So we went to perform as usual, and I had to wait for my cue—" he halted mid step, his eyes blew open wide. "The rope." He turned towards his friends, but didn't look at them. Instead, it seemed like he was looking right through them. "I saw it fray and—"

The Titans then witnessed the horrific sight of their friend become absolutely unraveled. Grief built up and flowed out as he screamed, wailed, howled, and fell to his knees, weeping. He slammed his fists against the table, utterly overwhelmed with anguish. "MOMMY! DADDY!" he shrieked as the tears just kept coming.

Bruce knelt at his side. "I'm sorry, Dick."

Black lashed out, grabbing Bruce by the collar and shaking. "Why the hell would you make me remember that!? Did you think I'd be happier knowing they're gone?!"

Bruce, only mildly disturbed, covered Black's hands with his own. "It's been ten years. It doesn't do anyone any good letting you believe that didn't happen. I know it's painful—"

"You don't know anything! All you do is cause me pain! All you want to do is hurt me! Just like the Masters!"

Bruce squeezed his hands tighter, making him look up. "I saw my parents die too," he snapped. "And I saw your parents die, Dick. I was there that day."

"I'm not Dick!" He screamed. "Why can't everyone just see me for who I am?! MY NAME IS BLACK! Like darkness! Darkness is eternal, uncatchable, unlimited, and invincible! Black can do anything! Black can do everything Dick can't! Everything he couldn't!"

"Pretending to be someone you're not isn't going to bring your parents back."

Black pried his fingers off of Bruce and fell back onto his butt. With tear soaked cheeks, he looked around the room, meeting the sympathetic gaze of all his friends. His eyes were wide and glassy, full of fear and uncertainty. He clearly had no idea what he was supposed to do. In a small voice, he turned back to Bruce and said, "can I at least have my medicine back now?"

Bruce shook his head. "Not yet. Do you remember what I said earlier? We're making an antidote so that you won't need the medicine anymore. Won't that be nice? Not having to pay attention to when you took your meds? Not having to be afraid of feeling that pain?"

Black held out his hands in front of him, studying them. His brows furrowed, as if the calluses hid a secret message he was trying to decode. "What's wrong with me?" He asked it like he wanted a diagnosis.

"Why don't you tell us?" Bruce asked. "We can't begin to understand until we know what you went through."

"Oh no…no I can't…I can't talk about that…" He began to get emotional again. "You don't want to hear about it."

"I do, actually. And I think talking about it will help. Whatever you can share."

Black looked unsure, and hunched his shoulders. He rolled up to be on the balls of his feet, and placed a hand on the table, ready to bolt.

Instead, Starfire took the initiative to scoop him off the floor and placed him on the couch next to her. She rested an arm around his shoulder and pet his hair. "There there, dear friend. You may share safely now."

Black swallowed thickly, and did not relax, but he didn't seem prepared to bolt.

"I…can't remember."

"You've repressed a lot of that, which is understandable," Bruce placed a hand on his knee. But, what can you remember? What are your first memories?"

"It…smelled bad." He began. "It was dark and dirty. There was another boy there, but he didn't say anything, or move much. Just laid on that bed all still."

The others recoiled slightly as they understood what he was saying.

"Then sometimes, there was another boy. He talked to me and tried to keep me from hurting myself. He was kinda a bully."

"What did this boy look like?" Starfire asked.

"I dunno. Never saw him. I only heard his voice."

"Like through a speaker?"

"Nah, in my noggin'. Sometimes I still hear him. It's like this little voice that's like, 'eeuuu don't eat that, you don't know where it's been'. He's kind of annoying and persistent, but I think he's keeping me alive."

Bruce sucked in a breath. "That's your conscience. Robin's conscience. That's your guide. Once we make the antidote for you, it will become a lot easier for you to behave normally."

He seemed to clam up then, twining his fingers together into a tight knot. "That's all I got," he said firmly.

"So why don't you try to relax? The fentanyl will run its course through your system, and then the pain will come. We'll try to make you comfortable, and once we think it's out of your system, we'll take a blood test. Then we'll get you a new dose and keep you dosed until you don't need it anymore." He reached out and touched his shoulder. "Think you can handle that?"

"No, but you said I don't have a choice."

Bruce just gave him a little pat, not having any words of comfort.

"Perhaps," said Starfire. "At any point you do remember what happened while you were being held captive, you could tell me in private? It is sometimes hard to divulge things openly and honestly."

"I'll think about it," said Black. "I kinda feel like the proverbial rug was pulled out from under my proverbial feet. If you know what I proverbial mean."

"Not even slightly."

"Things will begin to make sense soon," Bruce assured. "Just try to stay calm."

"Perhaps some lunch will ease you?" Alfred asked, standing.

"Ooo! La-gas-na! It's spaghetti in cake form!"

—

They were able to keep him occupied for several hours. They watched Robin's favorite movies, told him stories of their villains. Some went over better than others.

As the day went on, they all witnessed the major veins on his body turn darker and more visible. As night came, he became more agitated and snippy. He whined and moaned as he moved around, but seemed to be trying to ignore it for everyone else's sake.

Then it was time for bed.

"Come and get me when it becomes too painful," Bruce instructed. "Then we'll check your levels and see if we can take a test."

Black didn't look convinced, but begrudgingly agreed.

Starfire stayed up late. In the last few months, peaceful sleep hadn't been guaranteed or expected. So she sat up reading to clear her head.

What was she reading? A psychology book, provided by Raven. At first, Starfire had hoped it would give her enough information that she could be helpful in diagnosing her friend. But the more she read, the more lost she became. The human mind was complex and strange, capable of bizarre changes from seemingly simple affects.

But the book was still interesting and just boring enough to make her sleepy.

A knock at the door grabbed her attention immediately.

"Yes?"

"It's me," said Black's voice. "Are ya decent?"

"Yes Black. You may enter."

The door slid open, and he stood in the entry for a moment, wringing his hands. His hair was a mess and he looked worse than he had all day.

"What brings you here at this hour?"

"I…couldn't sleep," he answered, haltingly. "The pain is getting worse. So I was walking the halls. I saw your light on…"

"I understand. Would you like to come in and talk?"

"Are you busy?"

She closed the book and shook her head. "No. I was only reading to clear my thoughts. I would not turn down your company."

He shuffled inside, glancing around the room. He had been in here once before, as Black, though he would never tell her that.

"You can sit, if you'd like." She patted the mattress.

He did so, and brought his legs up so that he could rest his arms on his knees. "You said, earlier, if I wanted to talk about what happened, I could come to you."

"Yes, that offer still stands."

"I lied earlier. I remember all of it. The very beginning is hazy, but things become clearer after a certain point. The medicine makes it easy for me to block it out, but without it…"

"I will listen to whatever you are willing to share, if you do not mind if I take notes?"

"Are you gonna tell Bunny Man?"

"Only the things that I think he needs to know. I can keep secrets as well."

He didn't ask her permission to recline, just assumed the position of a patient in a therapy session, lying on a couch, hands folded over his stomach.

Starfire retrieved her notebook she had been using with the psychology textbook.

As far as she had seen, Black lacked the capacity to be serious in most situations. He was either goofing around, or violently unpredictable. So when he started speaking, his voice deeper than usual and tone focused, she almost thought Robin was at the helm. He took a deep breath and said, "have you ever heard of Tartarus?"

"…that is…of the Greek Myth?"

"Yes. It's a deep abyss that is used as a dungeon for the wicked. I can only assume that's where I was born. It might have been Hell, but I was under the belief that Hell had fire. This place was cold. Sometimes cold enough to see your breath. It's a kind of cold that makes you numb after a while. You think about snuggling up to the people around you, but then you think about who they are, and you decide against it." While he said this, his face remained eerily calm.

"There were 20 of us originally, though I only remember about 15. We had no names. Only numbers. I was number 8. I'm sure some boys tried to introduce themselves, but the Masters were quick to chastise. We weren't people. We weren't anything. There would be no mercy or kindness, nobody cared about each other. We were all enemies."

Starfire scribbled this all down, eyes only flicking to the paper momentarily as she wanted Black to feel like he was receiving her full attention.

"They had us wear these short, thin shirts that tied in the back. Everyone's asses were hanging out. Most of the day, they put us in a room with three beds, and we had to fight for them. One guy had his eye poked out in the chaos. Then other nights they put us in a tight space that was even colder than the normal room, and we had to huddle together to stay warm. One time I woke up and nudged the guy next to me...but he was dead. Frozen to death. Other guys lost fingers and toes on those nights."

Starfire swallowed thickly, a pang to the heart.

"They marched us to a bathroom once a day. They stripped us and tied chains to our feet and put bags over our heads…then we walked blindly for a long time. Then we were told to do our business, still with the bags on and chained to each other. There was only one bathroom break, so if you had to go, it was then that you did it. Otherwise you had to hold it or crap in the corner. We collected filth on our feet and legs and everything smelled. But after a while…we kind of got used to it. Then new smells would emerge. Smells of rot and infection.

"They humiliated us...called us names, made us feel like animals. They worked us too, made us carry weights for long periods of time, and made us hold our hands over our heads for hours. With the shirts we wore, raising your arms exposed everything. And they'd take the time to emasculate us. They would beat us for punishment, and chastise us verbally…using profanity that would make a sailor blush. They pointed out our flaws and made us feel weak and useless. I have scars on my scars from them. Then if you said anything wrong, you were put into solitary confinement, The Hole. Then they beat the other prisoners outside of The Hole, and you could hear their screams of pain…the other boys hit the door and shouted out profanity and said how much they hated whoever was in the hole for getting them in trouble."

"Were you ever put in the hole?"

"Everyone was. I was doing pushups and singing Amazing Grace, when one of my Masters asked me why I was being so obedient. I told him I was obedient by nature, and he called me a liar…then he threw me in The Hole for four days."

"Four days?!" Starfire was familiar with solitary confinement. Four days was a long time, even for her.

"It was almost three, but my freedom depended on the other prisoners. The Masters said if everyone was willing to give up their blankets, I would be let out."

"How many sacrificed?"

"None."

It wasn't all that surprising, but still sad.

"There was one boy…he barricaded himself in the corner, using the bed, and he shouted and screamed and raved like a madman. Something about needing a doctor…So the Masters let him out and we all thought he was being set free. But when that door swung closed…we heard a gunshot and that was it.

"Like I said, the early days are the haziest. I'm sure there were whole days I don't remember. But then…things got worse. It turned into real torture instead of abuse. One at a time, they would take a boy from the room and hours later, return with a bloody remnant of a shambling body. Some never came back."

Starfire watched as he raised his hand, seemingly scrutinizing the webbed surface. "I got taken twice. Both times I remember some things clearly, and some of it is completely blacked out."

He fell silent.

"What happened?" She pried gently.

"I don't think I want to say it out loud."

Starfire took his hand. Very patiently and tenderly, she explained, "before I came to Earth, I was a prisoner on a slave ship of the Gordianians. Before that, I spent many months being experimented on by the Psions. If anyone can understand what it was like for you, I believe it is me."

He looked at her, lips pulled into a grimace. "What if you had it worse and I…I had this transformation that you didn't?"

"We all deal with trauma differently. I will not judge what you went through compared to myself. Just understand that I can handle whatever you may say. I may seem rather soft, but I am not."

He nodded and turned his head back to look at the ceiling. "I guess you are pretty tough. I like that about you, Starfire. Tough, with a soft facade."

She smiled a little. The compliment sounded like one of Robin's.

"I don't know what the purpose of that chair was. Maybe they just wanted to cause pain? Or maybe there was something more to it? They found the perfect ways to cause pain. They cut just deep enough to hit all the nerves, and poured acid and alcohol into the wounds. They hammered needles under my nails and poured hot oil on my genitals.

"I lost my voice screaming both times. The water was scarce and smelled like rotten eggs when they actually allowed us some."

Starfire silently wiped the tears from her face. She could handle what he was saying, but her heart was big and she empathized far too much.

"One of the Masters laughed through it all. The other was silent. The laughing man had pure white skin and this horrible, evil smile. He thought my suffering was funny. The more I cried, the more joy he felt. I remember glancing down and seeing my naked body covered in blood, and asking for him to kill me. He just danced and clapped his hands with glee."

"That must have been the Joker," Starfire guessed. "Batman said he was responsible for this."

Black seemed to mull this information over as he ran his tongue over his teeth. "Yeah," he croaked. "That sounds familiar."

"What else do you remember?" She pried gently, hoping to maybe redirect him and keep him from shutting down.

"There was the food." He acknowledged. "We started out on bread and water...and then over time they gave us meat. Just meat, no vegetables or even bread. It was boiled, but tasted like pork…and they let us eat as much as we wanted. I distinctly remember one boy eating so much that he puked…" Black swallowed deeply. "Then someone freaked out, because they realized they were chewing on a finger. And then we all found out that the boys who had died had not been buried…but we were eating them…"

Starfire covered her mouth in sickness. She had witnessed such things on the Gordianian ship. But to see one alien species eat another was not all that odd. But for one human to eat another?

"Some cried. Others made themselves vomit. I just curled up in a corner and decided I would never eat again."

"I understand your decision to not eat processed meat quite clearly now." She tried to speak softly, but her voice held an edge. One belonging to someone with revenge on the mind.

Black brought his hands up to his face. "They injected us with poison." He continued. "I don't know what it was, but it glowed green in the syringe and we could see it in our veins. It burned. I swear that's how all of this happened. They shot us up three times daily. It had different effects on each of us. One boy dropped dead. Another started eating himself…bit the skin clear off his arm. Most of them, though, just vomited blood and died."

Starfire watched in amazement as Black relayed his story with no emotion on his face. As for her, she was white-knuckling a pillow, trying to keep her anger in check.

"Sometimes at night, if I listened just hard enough…I could hear singing. I think it came from my own mind, my subconscious. But it was the most wonderful thing I had heard in the world."

She had always known Robin enjoyed listening to music. It wasn't uncommon for the boombox in the ops room to be on when he was around. Even when he was in his office doing research, orchestral music could faintly be heard, likely to fill the silence.

With some sort of music often playing around him, it wasn't hard to imagine he'd subconsciously sing to comfort himself.

She noted this observation and theory down on her notepad and then looked to Black to ask him further questions…only to find him already asleep.

It was a little flattering, seeing that talking to her relaxed him so much that he fell asleep.

With a smile, she draped a blanket over him. As she got close, she got a whiff of his deodorant. He smelled like Robin again, and not the foul stench of death and rot. He smelled clean, with a hint of a musky spice. The scent of hair gel was missing though.

She contemplated going to sleep in his room, or even the Ops room, but in the end, she decided to stay. Shyly, she scooted closer to him so she could feel a bit of his body heat.

He mumbled in his sleep and shifted, bringing his leg over to touch hers.

She blushed wildly.

Eventually, she calmed down enough to feel sleep coming for her as well. Her eyes were heavy and despite the horrors he had shared with her, she felt rather at ease and soon drifted off to sleep, forehead lightly resting against his arm.