Teen Titans Fan Fiction ❯ Past Woes ❯ Memories ( Chapter 1 )

Robin stared silently over the city, trying to rid himself of old memories, but to no avail. He could see them so clearly, though he wished he couldn't.

The trick had been so simple. Release, flip, then grab on to the next trapeze and swing to the next trick, which was much more complicated. The rope wasn't supposed to break, sending his parents plummeting to the floor below. Robin could remember the harsh crunches of bones breaking and the blood that splattered the arena. In all the commotion, not one person had thought to protect him, a mere six year old boy, from seeing his parents' ruins. The image of their broken bodies still lingered in his mind to this day. Suddenly a shadow fell over his small form. He turned slowly and looked up at the large man with eyes a rich green dark enough that a few more shades would have left them black.

"You shouldn't be seeing this, young man," the man said softly, grabbing the poor boy's shoulder. "Let's go outside away from all this."

The young boy followed silently, still numb from what he'd seen. The tall man knelt down beside him and started to explain just who the cause of his parents' death was and why he couldn't go to the police. The black-haired boy listened mutely, his eyes blank of any emotion. He couldn't feel anything, but he didn't mind. It would hurt if he could feel. The young boy suddenly realized the man was staring at him intently.

"Are you alright, son?" he asked.

"What's your name?" the child heard himself ask, his voice as devoid of emotion as the rest of his body.

"Bruce. Bruce Wayne," the man replied then paused. "You need a new home, son. How would you like to come live with me?"

He stared at the man for a moment then nodded. "Okay."

At the time, the Boy Wonder had had no idea about Bruce Wayne's secret identity as Batman. In fact at the time, Robin hadn't even been Robin. He'd been Richard John Grayson, the son of John and Mary Grayson. His parents were part of a circus act, an acrobatic act, to be more specific, and were known as the 'Flying Graysons.' Robin had been training since he was three to join them, but his dreams of that were shattered the night they died. But with the shards of that broken dream, a new one had been born, though it had admittedly taken nearly a year for the young Richard to figure out Bruce's secret and construct the dream. With that thought, the memory of the night he'd found out who Batman really was surfaced.

A seven year old Richard was humming softly as he read in the study. The book was fascinating, all about the recent history of Gotham City. The young child knew that most kids his age wouldn't even understand most of the words in this book, but, as Bruce had told him many times, he was a prodigy at stuff like this. In fact, as long as Richard could remember, he had been hungry for knowledge and good at applying it in real situations. Their butler Alfred Pennyworth came into the room and arched an eyebrow at the young boy.

"And what are you reading, Master Richard?" he asked, his pleasant baritone rumble making Richard smile as he looked up.

"A book 'bout Gotham's recent history. It's very interesting."

"Ah. What part do you find most interesting?" Alfred asked, kneeling down beside the black-haired boy.

"I'm not sure. So far, it's when Batman came in to take crime away from the streets."

Richard sensed a sudden change in Alfred. It was very, very, very subtle, but it was there in the man's light blue eyes. If a person didn't know the man, they wouldn't have been able to see it. Hell, if they had known the man, they wouldn't have seen it. Richard narrowed his eyes, looking deep into Alfred's and wondering if it was all just an illusion.

"Is something wrong, Master Richard?" Alfred asked, his voice and eyes carrying only the barest, most remote traces of unease.

"No," Richard said after a moment. "Just wondering what a word means."

"Oh? What word is that?" The unease had been replaced with relief.

"Enigma. It says, and I quote, 'The true identity of Batman is an enigma that seemingly none can solve.'"

"Ah. An enigma is a mystery, a puzzle of sorts," Alfred said with a soft smile.

"What if somebody did solve it?" Richard asked, watching Alfred's eyes carefully.

"Then it wouldn't be much of a mystery anymore, now would it?" Alfred replied, his eyes holding that unease again.

"I guess not." Richard paused. "Where's Bruce?"

"Out at a party. He'll be gone most of the night," Alfred answered then stood up. "If you'll pardon me, Master Richard, I must go prepare your dinner."

"Okay. Hey, Alfred?"

"Yes, Master Richard?"

"Call me Dick."

Alfred paused and looked at the young boy. "Might I ask why?"

"In a book I found, the name 'Dick' is short for Richard. I'm not sure why, but it is. I want my close friends to have a nickname for me, and you and Bruce are the closest and only friends I have at the moment."

"Alright…Dick," Alfred said slowly then murmured, "You really are a brilliant boy. Bruce better watch himself."

That last comment had been the thing that led Robin to find out Bruce's secret. He'd been suspicious for about two and a half months by that point. Bruce hadn't been nearly as careful around Robin as he should have been. The boy had seen everything from the wounds Bruce came home with after his 'parties' to the hurried whispered conversations with Alfred. He'd even seen the entrance to the Batcave once, though he hadn't known that's what it was at the time. Robin blinked slowly, sinking quickly back into the memory.

The newly dubbed Dick was staring intently into the kitchen, watching Alfred cook. He felt slightly guilty about what he was about to do, but he had to find out once and for all if Bruce Wayne was Batman. Sure he acted all haughty and important, but that was only around guests. Dick knew the billionaire had a much softer, warmer side, and had received those attitudes himself.

Shaking his thoughts back to the present, the seven year old took out a small pebble, weighing it in his hands as he stared at his target. Dick aimed carefully then launched the pebble at the weakest point in the wood. His aim was dead on. The top shelf holding pots and pans collapsed on one side, spilling its contents down over the three shelves below it, each in turn breaking to scatter their contents over the kitchen floor. Dick only stayed long enough to see that Alfred was occupied for a while before taking off at a sprint in the direction of the study.

When he got there, he quickly went over to the Shakespeare bust, tilted the head back, and grinned at what he found: a button. He hesitantly pressed it then looked around. There it was. The third bookshelf to the right had opened up, revealing a dark tunnel. After flipping the head of the bust back upright, Dick grabbed a small candelabrum and walked inside. He jumped when the door slid shut behind him, but turned and kept on going.

The tunnel eventually ended in an enormous cave, and Dick found himself staring around in awe. There were all sorts of machines and weapons down there! His young mind couldn't get enough of all the exciting new things to learn about. Later, Dick would realize that losing track of time coupled with forgetting he wasn't supposed to be there was his downfall. He was looking at some rather interesting weapons when a strong hand grabbed his shoulder and spun him around. The young lad found himself looking into Alfred's angry blue eyes.

"What are you doing down here, Master Richard?"

Dick swallowed nervously-he'd never seen the kind old butler so livid before-and his mouth became dry. "I-I was just looking 'round, Alfred. Bruce said I was welcome to explore the house."

"But this isn't part of the house, now is it, Master Richard?"

"I don't know, Alfred! Is it?" Dick asked angrily. "And let go of me!"

"I shall not. You are to go to your room and stay there until Master Bruce returns home."

"Don't you mean until Batman returns home?"

Alfred forcefully marched him up out of the cave and shoved him into his room, locking the door from the outside. Dick screamed in outrage and began to beat at the door. He persisted for nigh on fifteen minutes until he had broken the skin on his hands, blood oozing down the inside of the door. He finally gave up, tears of anger streaming down his face. He picked up his bedside lamp and smashed it against the floor, glass flying everywhere. He then proceeded to shatter anything and everything he could get his hands on.

A half hour later, he was out of things to break. He sat on his absurdly large bed for a moment, still crying, then got up and walked to the window. Rain was streaming down in sheets and it was pitch black outside.

Being very careful not to get blood on the windowsill, he opened the window and slipped out onto the slick roof. He shut the window quietly, glad for the fact that the windows on the second floor had bad locks that hadn't been replaced. He thought about going down and immediately shot down the idea. He could kill himself, and the thought of falling from his death at the height he was at made his insides quiver in fear. So he did the only logical thing that remained. He climbed up.

When he was on flat roof, he maneuvered his way to the center and was delighted to find a little square space that seemed to be made of concrete and he settled there, ignoring the sheets of ice cold rain that had already soaked him to the bone. He huddled there, the rain running down his face mixing with the slowing tears. His hands felt bruised and sore and the water that got on them stung, but that was nothing compared to his feet. He had walked over quite a bit of broken glass, and some pieces were still stuck in his flesh.

He lost track of time sitting there in the dark, shivering and whimpering until Bruce found him. There was tense silence for a while, broken only by the patter of rain.

"Richard?" Bruce finally asked quietly, barely audible over the pitter-patter of the rain. Dick said nothing, too angry and hurt. Bruce sighed. "Richard, what's wrong? Talk to me."

"You told me when you adopted me that we needn't have any secrets from each other, yet here I find you've kept your very self a secret."

Bruce was silent for a moment. He was astounded by this small child's intellect and maturity. It showed not only in his strong grasp of the English language, but also in his adult-like reaction. Any other child Bruce knew would have been crying and screaming about unfairness, but Dick already knew about unfairness. Because of that, he reacted with cold fury and hard words, the reaction of a mature adult.

"Richard, I'm sorry, but I couldn't tell you," Bruce finally sighed.

"Why not? I've told you everything about me," Dick replied, keeping his eyes on the stormy horizon.

"I wasn't sure if you could keep it a secret, but it was wrong of me to think that," Bruce said after another moment's pause. "I know now that you are quite capable of keeping it. Alfred told me that he suspects you've known for a while."

"No, I just found out tonight," Dick said quietly. "I suspected though."

"How long did you suspect?"

"About two and a half months," the black-haired boy replied. "You know, you're really not as sneaky as you think you are."

"No, you're just more observant than a boy your age should be," Bruce replied. "And I'm sorry for not telling you."

"Hey Bruce?" Dick asked quietly, looking nervously at his surrogate father.

"Yes?"

"Can…can I maybe, possibly join you doing that some day?"

"Doing what? Stopping crime?"

"Yes sir."

"Well…"

"Please! I'll train really, really hard! Just as hard as I do acrobatics!" Dick exclaimed.

Even though his circus dreams were dead, he still practiced acrobatics. He worked on both old and new moves, loving the challenges they presented to him. Because of all the exercise, Dick's seven year old body was fitter and stronger than any other boy his age, hell, than any other boy even near his age, and both Bruce and Alfred had commented on it. However, Dick had shown neither of the men what some of the amazing things he could do with his body. Some of his abilities had freaked people out, and that was back at the circus.

Bruce hurriedly changed the subject. "Come on now, let's get inside. It's cold and we'll get sick if we stay out here much longer."

Robin reluctantly dropped the subject for a while and gone back inside. He let Bruce help him into the house where Alfred was waiting with towels. The butler grabbed the young boy and started to strip him off, but, even at seven, the boy was very shy and self-conscious about his body. Dick slapped Alfred's hands back and bashfully withdrew, his arms crossed over his bare chest with his cheeks burning. Both Bruce and Alfred stared at him for a moment.

"Something the matter, Dick?" Alfred asked. When Bruce gave him a funny look, the older man smiled. "He discovered the name is derived from Richard and wishes us to refer to him by that name."

"Ah. That's interesting," Bruce said with a soft smile then turned to Dick. "So, is something the matter?"

"I can towel myself off," Dick replied, keeping his eyes on the floor.

Alfred chuckled. "You don't have to be shy around us, Dick."

"If you want to become my sidekick, you need to lose this shyness around us," Bruce said.

"He might become your sidekick? Oh yes, Master Richard, you must lose this bashful behavior."

"Why?" Dick asked quietly.

"Because in this field of work, you get hurt often. Alfred has doctored pretty much every inch of me. In most places, multiple times."

Dick swallowed then looked up. "Just in front of you two?"

"Yes," they both replied in unison.

Dick nodded slowly. "I can do that."

A smile curled Robin's lips as a soft chuckle rumbled in his throat. He had indeed learned not to feel shy around those two men, though it wasn't easy. They had persisted though, and eventually Robin had felt comfortable enough around them. His smile widened when yet another memory cropped up, making him laugh softly. After he'd discovered the Batcave, he was allowed in there as long as he didn't touch anything, and about two weeks after that…

Dick looked around the room. Mats were laid all over the floor, meant to cushion falls. Dick assumed it was the training room and it was perfect. The young boy smiled as he stripped off his shirt, folding it neatly and setting it neatly in the corner, his shoes following quickly. He took a deep breath, stretching his muscles for a good five minutes. When he was done, he stood up and rolled his shoulders back, and then he started to move.

Back flips, twirls, and every other acrobatic stunt he could perform were done with ease. He was so intent on what he was doing that he didn't notice when Bruce and Alfred came in and stood frozen at the door. With a perfect double back flip ending in a graceful handstand, Dick flipped back up into standing position. He stood there for a moment, a film of sweat gleaming on his bare skin and his breathing labored, and then slowly sank to his knees. Dick's muscles trembled pleasantly and he smiled.

"That was amazing, Master Richard!" Alfred exclaimed.

Dick twisted around, his eyes wide. "Alfred! Bruce! What…what are you doing here?"

"Watching you," Bruce replied calmly, a proud smile on his face.

"Oh…well I was going to show you eventually," the tired little boy mumbled.

Robin ran his fingers through his hair, feeling the slickness of his hair gel even through the gloves he wore. Even though the Boy Wonder didn't want to, he decided to go spend some time with his friends. He was tired of the cascade of memories brought on by the date. Always before he'd requested to be alone to reminisce, but he couldn't do it anymore. The memories of his time with Bruce were even more painful than that of the night his parents fell to their death, and he just couldn't relive them. With a soft sigh, Robin turned and headed down the stairs.

"Bruce?" Dick asked softly after he was helped up; the training session had left him weak and shaky.

"Yes, Dick?"

"This won't change us, will it?"

"No, little birdie, never."

Robin stumbled, crashing into the wall as he gripped his head. Little birdie. That had been a little nickname Alfred and Bruce had given him after they saw his acrobatics. They'd said he could fly like a little bird, and that had been where he'd eventually gotten his name…

"Robin!"

"No," he groaned softly, sinking to the floor. "No more!"

"Dude? You okay?"

Robin looked up to see the rest of the Titans looking down at him. They were all looking concerned, especially Starfire, but they were also very wary. Robin had lost his temper the day before and that always made the others cautious around him.

"I-I'm fine," Robin lied, struggling to his feet.

Starfire floated a bit closer. "But you-"

"I said I'm fine!" Robin growled, shoving himself off the wall.

"I said I'm fine Bruce!" Dick exclaimed with a laugh, his eyes shining in amusement.

"Are you sure? That was a pretty bad fall," Bruce replied worriedly. "Maybe we should take a break.

"No! I can take more! I promise! I'll tell you when I can't train anymore."

Robin came out of the memory to find himself back on his knees, his hands pressed against his temples as if to stave off the flashbacks. There was silence for a moment then Cyborg and Beast Boy walked over and knelt down on either side of their leader. Without a word, they both wrapped one arm around Robin's thin waist and lifted him up. They carried him into the living room and set him on the couch, letting go quickly. Robin normally would have protested, but two things stopped him. One, his legs were shaking so badly that he was positive he couldn't walk, and two, if he opened his mouth, he was sure he would start to cry. Robin didn't cry, no matter what.

"You are so not fine," Raven deadpanned.

"You feelin' well man? If you're not, just tell us. We'll take care of you if you are," Cyborg said kindly.

"I'm fine," Robin muttered, bringing his knees to his chest and wrapping his arms around them to try and stop his trembling.

"Robin, you just collapsed in the hall, you're shivering like crazy, and you're paler than Raven!" Beast Boy exclaimed. "If that's fine, I'll eat one of Cyborg's all-kinds-of-meat pizzas!"

Robin shook his head. He couldn't tell them about today because they wouldn't understand. He knew that Cyborg had lost his mother in the accident that had turned him into what he was, and that he hated his father for it. He knew that Raven's father was a demon from another dimension, and that she hardly knew her mother. He knew that Starfire had sister trouble, and that her relationship between her parents was rocky, to say in the least. He knew that Beast Boy had lost his parents in a boating accident, and that the green boy felt guilty about what had happened. But none of that mattered to Robin. How could they understand what it was like to see your parents' broken bodies surrounded by what seems like gallons of blood?

"Look," Robin finally sighed. "Today's just a really bad day for me."

"Why?" Starfire asked innocently, her emerald eyes curious.

Robin looked at her and shook his head. "I don't like talking about it," he said, his tone heavy and sad.

Starfire opened her mouth to ask another question, but, to everyone's surprise, Beast Boy placed a hand on her arm. "Don't Star. There are some things that people can't talk about. This is one of them."

Robin smiled thankfully at Beast Boy then looked back down at his gloved hands. The silence filled the room and brought back dark nights of patrolling Gotham City with Bruce. Robin's fists clenched and he bit his bottom lip.

"Please talk about something," Robin said, his voice holding a faint desperation.

"Umm, well the circus is in town," Beast Boy said after a moment.

Bones crunched and blood sprayed the dirt around the freshly broken bodies…

"NO!" Robin bellowed, leaping to his feet. Everybody started and looked at him. "NOT that! You can talk about anything but that!"

"Dude, what's your problem?" Cyborg asked.

"Maybe it's cause he dresses like a circus performer?" Beast Boy joked.

Robin went cold. "No. Just no," Robin said, standing up and walking out of the room.

"Dude, I was just kidding!" Beast Boy shouted after him.

The Boy Wonder silently walked to his room, ignoring Beast Boy completely. As the door slid shut behind him, Robin covered his face with his hand and shivered, sinking to his knees. He honestly just wanted this day to end because, when it did, he wouldn't have to think about this again for another year.