Warning for Death in this chapter (In a dream), nothing too graphic

It's kind of hard to enjoy a road trip until you remember what you're fighting for.

-Dick Grayson

He's on the high wire this time. His parents always let him go on it, but only with their permission. Both the stage area and the mount were both deserted. He'd always felt more comfortable on the trapeze (after all, where was a Grayson more comfortable than in the air?), but as always, his practiced reflexes seemed to stretch as he launched himself into a run onto the wire.

Completing his move with a flip, he grins at the crowd.

Except there's no one in the crowd (why is that a surprise?), but there are two lumps on the ground below him, covered with a white sheet. That…can't be right.

There's something not right.

He almost jumps down off the wire to check what's going on, but then catches himself. Fifty feet down might be faster, but it sure as hell wasn't going to leave him in one piece. Instead, he pauses on the wire and moves to turn around.

The wire shakes more than it should and he realizes someone else has gotten on at the other side.

"Rachel?" he squints, confirming, "Rachel, you need to get off the wire, it's dangerous."

"Dangerous?" Rachel scoffs, taking another step. She's fully on the wire, now, "You really want to talk about danger?" She points to the ground, at the white sheets that leave knots in his stomach that he doesn't understand. "You put them there."

Dick stumbles back on the wire as memories flash in his mind.

"I didn't-" he can't finish before the circus twists around him. He's down near the bodies under the sheets all of a sudden, and he can't remember how he got down. The wire trembles slightly above him, and Rachel is nowhere to be seen. Air whirs behind him and he turns quickly on a whim. A throwing star whips past him, drawing blood on his cheek, a thin line that stings only slightly. Jason is standing in front of him, a terrified expression on his face.

"What did you do?" he demands, his voice shaking, "What did you do?"

The kid looks so scared Dick actually holds his hands up, showing that he's unarmed.

It's only then when he sees the blood all over himself and the floor. The red mingles with the Robin suit he's wearing, acting as some sort of macabre camouflage.

The bodies are lying on a cold stone floor, white sheets covering their faces. There is a red steadily seeping through them, though, and Dick approaches them slowly.

Jason makes a small sound in the back of his throat that might have been a whimper, and it kind of makes Dick want to be sick. Nevertheless, he carefully peels back the sheet, revealing the face of his foster father.

No.

Bruce Wayne is lying on the floor of the Batcave. Dead.

"Stay away from them!" Jason screams, giving him a shove. He keeps advancing, but Dick holds him back by the shoulders. There's a horrible sense of deja vu here, and all he can think is that this can't be happening.

That's when he realizes the sheet has shifted a bit off the other body, uncovering the arm. It's not much, but it's enough. A glimpse of a crisp black suit, a cracked watch face, a wrinkled hand.

"Alfred?" he calls, voice breaking. He can't feel the wetness through his uniform, but his hands are slick.

Robin's not wearing a mask.

Jason's managed to loosen Dick's grip and he lunges for him again.

"Why?" he hisses, "Is this enough? Are you free now?"

No. Dick wants to say. No, this isn't what I wanted.

His hands reach out on their own, and suddenly, Jason is lying slack on the ground next to him, eyes open, body limp. He's dead.

They all are.

They've escaped, they thought it was all over, but they're dead.

Everyone is. Every time, everyone except Dick.

Deathstroke appears, circling him as the bodies double, triple, multiply forever. Everyone he's ever met, everyone he's ever spoken to, ever loved.

They're all dying or dead.

"I told you, Grayson," Slade Wilson whispers from behind him, "You always live, even when the good don't."

He gestures to Jericho, Rachel, Gar. The green haired boy has dark bruises on his throat and as Dick looks down at his hands in horror, he can see little scratch marks where Gar tried to pry his hands away.

Kory is propped up on the side of the wall, next to Donna. There's no way he could kill them, either of them, they've helped him so much, and they're too powerful and-

They're dead.

"You don't deserve them," Slade mutters, "And they're going to notice soon."

With the last word, he plunges one of his curved swords into Dick's chest inches from his heart.

That's when Dick starts to scream.

He's barely awake in his bed, trying to get the white covers off of him, because he's not dead, he's not, even though it might feel like it inside. His palms sting, but he clamps his mouth shut before any sound can escape it and focuses on lying limp. The covers seem to relax their hold on him, and he looks to the side, watching Rachel sleep peacefully in the other bed.

Little breathes heave out of her mouth every few seconds, and Dick watches her for a couple of solid minutes before his eyes begin to burn. He feels numb, on edge, as if he's waiting for something to happen. As if he's been waiting for things to happen all along, and even though things have happened, it's not what was supposed to happen. That thought doesn't make sense, even to him. He should know by now that running isn't the answer, but he has the urge to leave the hotel room, even just for a short walk. Just get somewhere where he can't hurt anyone anymore.

But if he leaves, he doesn't trust himself to come back in.

Running a hand through his sweaty hair, he inspects his burning palms. Five neat crescent moons line each palm, each welling up slightly with blood. One of them seems a bit deeper than the others, and it slowly stops to well over.

The feeling of blood on his hands is eerily familiar, and entirely unwelcome. He gags, dry-heaving, but he hasn't eaten anything today, and his body honestly doesn't have enough energy to throw up. Instead, he presses his head against the wall, trying to think of nothing at all.

Needless to say, it doesn't work.

At least his mind isn't tricking him, making him see monsters in shadows and hear voices. After that dream, his subconscious is probably all worn out. Decisively, he pushes the covers away and stands up, swaying only slightly. Instead of heading towards the door, he walks to the room's small, questionably clean bathroom, pulling out the cheap burner phone that had been burning a lump in his pocket.

He had broken his phone in the fight with Trigon, screen cracked clean through, but he had managed to swipe a burner phone when the gas station worker hadn't been looking. After all, being seen buying a burner kind of defeated the whole purpose of it.

He made sure to tip extra for it, though.

Dick powers it on, sliding to the ground with his back leaning against the bathroom door. The floor was no cleaner than the rest of the room, but he had to make the call. If he was being honest, he wanted to make a bunch of calls, to everyone he had seen, or hadn't seen, but he couldn't disturb anyone, and even though Bruce, the only one awake at this time, would pick up a burner number, he didn't feel up to talking to him.

Trying to calm his racing heart, he checks the time. 1:19 AM. He's only been asleep for a few hours, and he's still exhausted, but he can't think of going back to sleep.

He'll only see the same faces again.

In the end, he nearly chickens out, but he decides to call Kory before he can do anything stupid. He'd memorized her number without even thinking about it, but after he dials and hears the first ring, it's so loud that it jars his thoughts.

What if she's asleep? What if she's in the middle of a fight, and this distracts her, and-

"What's going on, Grayson?" Kory's voice comes from the burner, slightly distorted but preserving its positive quality, "Everything okay?"

He lets out a breath and closes his eyes, leaning back against the door. "How did you know it was me?"

On the other side of the line, Kory laughs. She has no idea, no idea what it means that she can come through this and still laugh.

"Who else is going to call me this early on a phone number I don't recognize?"

Dick felt the ghost of a smile on his face. "Yeah, I-" his voice broke.

"Grayson?"

Dick let out a shuddering breath, pressing the phone to his cheek. "I can't do this, Kori, I just can't."

"Dick, what happened?" Kori's talking faster, and he can't really tell through the terrible quality, but that might be concern in her voice, "Come on, talk to me. Is anyone hurt? Are you hurt?"

"No," he whispers, "No, I'm just- it's- it's really nothing, I'm sorry for waking you up."

Kori starts to say something, but before she can finish, someone interrupts her.

"Is that Dick?" Donna's voice asks. Kori must have nodded, because suddenly, Donna's on the phone, too.

"What's wrong?" Donna asks quickly, and Dick wants to laugh, he really does, but it comes out more like a choked breath.

"Why does something have to be wrong?" he asks, and suddenly, he feels so, so stupid for calling, for hiding in the bathroom like he's afraid of himself, like he doesn't know what to do.

He doesn't know what to do.

Donna just sighs. "Come on, Dick, I always know when something's wrong. Older-"

"Yeah, I know!" he says, probably more rudely than he had wanted to, "I know, okay?"

He scrubs a hand through his hair and tries to remember why he called in the first place.

"You're both okay, right?"

"Dick, you saw us, like, a few hours ago. Are you okay?" Donna's always been good at this, at seeing through the lies even when he can't, of getting him to tell the truth.

He lets out another shaky breath. "No. I'm not. I can't do this, I can't stay with these kids and I can't teach them to be better than we were, Donna. As long as I'm with them, everything's going to be wrong."

"Dick, Slade's dead," Donna says, in the gentlest voice possible. A worm of guilt festers in his heart. She still doesn't know, none of them know, the real story of how Jericho died. They can't know how much of it is his fault. He ruined their lives, he knows, and he just keeps doing it.

"Okay, give me the phone," Kori's voice is soft, "Dick, do you remember what you asked me when we first met?"

"Something along the lines of, 'Where's Rachel?"

Dick can practically hear her rolling her eyes on the other end of the line. "No, after that. You asked me where I was from."

"And you didn't know," Dick shrugs, "So what?"

"And you didn't know where Rachel was from, but you still wanted to help her."

"Yes, but-"

"Dick, you're one of the good guys. It doesn't matter where someone's from or who they are, you always want to help them," she says, "That means you're good."

Dick lets out a sharp laugh. He doesn't know how exactly, she knew that was what he needed to hear, but at the same time, it's not enough. He's not enough, even though she is.

"People don't always try to hurt other people," his voice sounds foreign, "They do, anyway."

"You're an idiot," Donna interrupts, and Dick grins, despite himself, "You're not who you were years ago, and you just helped save the world. Cut yourself some slack, and go to sleep. Text us in the morning, okay?"

"Bye, Mom," Dick rolls his eyes, but he can't deny that he feels lighter, and more like himself, "And bye, Kori. Thank you."

"Anytime," the quick response comes. The line stays on for a few seconds longer, then clicks shut.

If they're alive enough to boss him around, they're really alive. That's what Dick can promise himself to do, for himself, for all of them. He can help them live, train them to be better than him, to have their own lives, and to not get lost in all of the violence.

He's not perfect, but he doesn't need to be.

He just needs to help.

He'll never be able to right the wrongs he's caused, take back the hurt that he's created, but he can try to soothe it, to teach people to learn from them.

He can be a Titan again.

He doesn't know how long he sits there, leaning against the bathroom door, just thinking about how he could do this, how he could start fixing things, for everyone. The only thing that startles him out of his stupor is Rachel's voice, coming from the room.

"Dick?" she calls, then her voice turns urgent and loud, "Dick! HELP!"

Immediately, he's off like a shot, throwing the door open, staff at the ready, in a battle position. He curses himself for not keeping watch, for allowing himself to drop his guard. What he sees, though, makes him drop his staff and rush towards Rachel.

She's not yelling right now, but her eyes are closed, and she's clearly asleep, taking deep labored breaths.

There's also the matter that she's hovering a few feet above the bed, and surrounded with a ring of purplish black shards of energy. There's no one else in sight. She's clearly dreaming, but that doesn't make it any less dangerous. He can't fight his way through the shards, and he can't exactly walk through it. He can't hurt her, and hurting himself wouldn't help the others either.

Rachel lets out a sob. "I'm sorry," she whispers, and Dick isn't sure who she's talking to, but that doesn't change the facts that she's breaking his heart.

"Rachel, you're safe," Dick promises, "But you need to wake up, do you hear me?"

Rachel lets out another sob. "I didn't mean to!"

Dick's hands clench into his fists, making the small cuts on his palm sting a bit more. She can't hear anything he's saying, and there's nothing he can do. This feeling of powerlessness is familiar, but that doesn't make the burn of shame any less.

He can't fail these kids. He can't fail Rachel.

So instead, he stands as close to the shards as he can and whispers, "I'm here, Rach, I'm not going to leave you. I won't leave you, you hear me? I promise."

His voice breaks, but the curtain of shards thins, just a little, so he keeps going. He tells her about the Titans tower, and how much she's going to love San Francisco. He tells her about fun things, stupid things, settling down, cross-legged, on the floor next to the bed as he speaks. He speaks for the better part of an hour, running his voice slightly hoarse. The shards start to thin, turning transparent and shifting slightly. Rachel lowers a few inches at a time, but he still doesn't dare stop talking until she's completely on the bed, and the shards have all disappeared.

She sniffs in her sleep and shifts to her right side. Dick lets out a little laugh. Somehow, through all this, she's managed to stay asleep. That's good; she deserves all the rest she can get, and then some. There's no evidence of anything having happened, the gem isn't glowing in her forehead, and she looks peaceful.

That's when he realizes he's not going to tell her about this. After seeing how excited she was to be normal, Dick refuses to be the one that ruins her life like this. She'd been dozing in the car, and nothing like this had happened. It had probably been a one-time thing, a product of the long day she'd had. It wouldn't happen again, he promised himself as he yawned slightly.

Rachel deserved to have the life she wanted. Not controlled by him, a demon, or anyone else. That was what all the kids deserved, and that was what he would stay to give them.

He promised.

A/N: What's up? Looks like things have started to look up, in my life, and in the fic! Hope everyone is staying safe!!!

Next chapter is Rachel, and I'm going to try to get it done sooner. Comments are good for the soul!

~ S