Author Note: Hello everyone! I bet you didn't expect to hear from me ever again! Firstly, you must know that I am incredibly sorry that I have taken such a break from this story. After I had finished the Young Justice series, I began to loose interest with the story and as my life grew busier, I began to neglect it. I would like to give a huge thank you to my friend Mary, who really encouraged me to finish this story and let you experience the building drama and heartbreak that I have in store for all the characters, especially Batman and Robin muahaha.

I strongly strongly encourage you to go back and read or at least skim the last few chapters-I did so myself before finishing this chapter, and have renewed vigor to continue this story. This chapter is a bit confusing, but I promise that all answers will be revealed soon. Poor Robin-he is just having a tough time!

I also really appreciate reviews C: They encourage me to continue this story, and reader encouragement is what I really need at the moment. I fully plan on finishing this story now, but I have forgotten a lot about the Young Justice universe, and will need to rewatch some episodes, so please be patient with me. I haven't really gone back and edited this yet, but I wanted to post it before I go bed, and will go back and edit it later.

And now, time to step into the mind of Robin!

Chapter 9: A Dark Path

Robin's heart beat faster and faster as the motorcycle roared to life. He jumped onto the vehicle, letting out a choke as his burns and numerous injuries collided painfully against the metal. He struggled to hold all the items he had snatched on his way out of the store. He had thankfully managed to grab a plastic bag as he fled, and shoved the clothes, Diet Coke, Cool Ranch Doritos, and map inside of it. Fear ran like ice through Robin's veins as he heard Dave and Linda's shouts from inside, and upon risking a glance behind him saw that the smoke inside the store was clearing. Yet what scared the young hero more was the fact that all the noise from the commotion was being drowned out by his throbbing heartbeat. His veins seemed to pulse and beat like drums in his ears, while the only other audible noise was the sound of his ragged, choking breathing.

Robin looked down to see his feet shaking, and fumbled at the foot break, unable to lift it because of his quivering. What is wrong with me? Robin thought, yet even the voice of his mind seemed to be lost in the pounding of his pulse. I am going to get myself killed! Then, Robin saw Dave burst out of the store in the left mirror of the motorcycle. The teen managed to kick the break up and the vehicle lurched forward, right before as he saw Dave raise his gun and the mirror shattered to pieces.

Robin flew off the concrete and onto the grass in an attempt to put various trees between him and the armed man. Then, turning, he drove onto another road and was out on the highway once more. Above, the sky was pure blue and fat clouds lazed their way across the sky—it was a beautiful afternoon. Twenty minutes go, Robin had been as hopeful as the day itself. But now…it felt as though his mind and body were about to splinter to pieces. Tears leaked out of his eyes and were gone, swept away against the wind that seemed to tear at him like a clawed beast. He tried to tell himself they were there because of the air blowing against his eyes or from the pain of his body burns, the cuts on his hands and shoulder from the glass, the severe burn on his hand, the tight collar around his neck that blocked his ability to communicate telepathically and the silver spike inside of it digging into his skin, the sores on the sides of his lips from where the gag had been, the pricks in his head where the spines on Scarecrow's iron crown had been, the knife-slash to his upper arm that Scarecrow had given him at their very first encounter at Arkenson Industries…but a small part inside of him knew that he was crying.

Being away from Dave and Linda should have been a relief, but Robin's entire body seemed to throb in sync with his heartbeat, and his vision was blurry. That, and the fact that two civilians hated him—but why? Why would they possibly hate him? He had been beaten to almost the point of death trying to save people on so many occasions, and never once had he been seen as an enemy by anyone other than who he saw as an enemy. Surely they couldn't have disliked him because he tried to take a sandwich? If they had just heard him out, he would have promised to pay them back. . .

Suddenly, Robin's eyes widened as a new realization came to his mind. Scarecrow had said something to him before he had started up the weird, techno spike crown machine—he had said that the Arkenson Industries building collapsed and killed thousands of people…

Robin's heart suddenly lurched, sending a splinter of panic through him as his body uncharacteristically lurched as well, causing the motorcycle to veer. The Boy Wonder tried to use the brakes, but the vehicle didn't slow down fast enough and shot off the road, turning in such a way that threw Robin forcefully from the seat and send him slamming into the ground. He heard a very loud 'CRACK!' sound, and instantly felt a stab of pain in his chest. The motorcycle landed nearby with a loud thud.

Broken rib…, Robin thought with a wince, attempting to stand. He took a step, and then crumpled to the ground, feeling as if he had lost all control of his limbs. What is wrong with me? his mind screamed, willing his body to move. But the ache of every one of his wounds became unbearable, and became more than just an ache—it became a sharp stab of pain, and he felt as if he were submerged in fire. The teen's frustration and anger and sadness and confusion seemed to bubble up inside of him, and he let out a shrill groan of agony, unable to stop himself from crying as he lay there. The landscape around him was quiet and peaceful, but he was a wreck, and an unashamed wreck, since there was no one else around. He felt his nose start to run as tears blurred his vision, and he didn't stop them as they streamed down his face.

As much as he hated to admit it, he couldn't help but feel a stab of pity for himself. His mind whirled around all the bad things that had happened to him over the last few days, and the devastation that he had been unable to prevent the deaths of thousands of people threw his mind into a dark turmoil that only increased his ragged sobs. He had a sudden desire to feel off his own skin and cease his mental and physical pain. Why would I think like that? a part of him insisted, but he didn't have the answer. Something about him seemed to be off, but it was impossible to tell. He had gotten beat up many times, but never like this before—never been without a rescue for so long before. He missed Batman and he missed Wally and he missed his team and all of the pain in his heart and body refused to relent. He seemed to be reduced to a helpless mess of a boy—not even a teenager, but a boy. He felt as if he were eight years old again and helpless to stop his parents from being murdered. He felt as if he was completely alone. And as much as he couldn't understand his sudden mental collapse, he couldn't seem to figure out any solution either. Maybe Scarecrow really had done something to him after all.

Eventually, about after twenty minutes, Robin wiped his nose and sat up, gritting his teeth in pain. It's okay now…you may be suffering, but you are on your way to Batman and Wally and everyone else. You need to snap out of it—you need to relax. Where is the fierce Dick Grayson? Where is the Robin that Batman would expect to be keeping his cool?

Slightly motivated by his own mental encouragement, Robin stood shakily and stumbled towards the motorcycle, holding his throbbing side where his rib had broken. Luckily, it appeared that the motorcycle was in tact; after briefly examining it, the Boy Wonder located his sack of robbed store goods and sat on the ground, eating his Cool Ranch Doritos, slurping his Coke, and looking at the map he had snatched. It appeared the town he had just left was called Farebottom and there were several towns between where he was now and Gotham. As he sat, he was reminded of the thousands that were now dead because of him and the fact that he was most likely universally hated by the civilians. What would Batman think? What would his friends think? Surely they would understand. And the blame wasn't all on him—the rest of the Young Justice team had failed as well.

Cramming these thoughts into the back of his mind, Robin inhaled sharply, a new determination rising in his chest. The teen put the wrapper of the Doritos and the empty Coke bottle and map into the bag, which he put on the motorcycle. He picked the motorcycle back up and gently guided it up the small slope and back to the road, where he got on and was able to steady himself. Without looking back, he kicked off the ground and the vehicle roared to live, sending him speeding along the highway once more.

Cool shades of violet streaked across the sky by the time that Robin saw the first city in the distance. Hope rose in his chest when he could see cars and actual people moving far away, but then he was reminded that he was a public outcast now. Looking around, Robin slowed the motorcycle and spotted what looked like a path used by dear in the thick forest to the right of the road. Making sure that nobody was around, he jumped off the vehicle and led it to the side of the road, leaning it up against an oak tree.

Robin then went into the forest, bringing with him his valuable sack. I should rest for awhile, then try and sneak through the town before dawn, he thought numbly, shivering from the cold and looking for a spot to rest. To his surprise, he soon stumbled upon a grove with a pond in it. After debating if getting in the freezing water would be worth it, the Boy Wonder reluctantly removed his singed and battered suit, the relief of a breeze against his burn wounds lessening the feeling of uncomfortable exposure. He slowly removed his clothes, until they were all laying in a heap, except for his mask. He was especially reluctant to let take it off—it represented who Robin was, and concealed Dick Grayson from the public's eyes. It represented all of his accomplishments and failures, and was a physical reminder of his connection to Batman. Letting out a short sigh, Robin removed the mask and set it aside, shivering violently as he stepped into the water. He washed himself thoroughly and as quickly as possible. He wished that he had taken a bar of soap as well, but just as he was scrubbing his hair with his fingertips, he saw a bar of soap sitting on the bank of the pond.

He stared at it for a few seconds, feeling as if he had just entered a whole new level of weird, before slowly reaching out and poking it. Yep—it was definitely real. After pausing a moment, he reached out and decided that he would use the ghost-soap and be clean and accept any ghosty side affects, rather than be semi-clean. It was a relief to wash through his singed hair and delicately soap his burned and injured body. He even managed to soap around the metal collar, and washed the ashen look from his skin since the fire.

Eventually, Robin got out of the water and rummaged through the bag for the clothes he had stolen, and put them on. He now wore a t-shirt and awkward jeans that didn't quite fit right, but they would do. Suddenly, Robin became aware of how tired he really was, and found himself stumbling towards a nearby tree. He quickly scaled it, and found the perfect sleeping place at the section where a fat branch connected with the tree base.

A strange nightmare of sorts soon overtook his body seconds after he closed his eyes, although 'nightmare' isn't the best term for it. It was as if his sleep was just one big dream, and it slowed his breathing and caused him to hold still. Deathly still. As he slept, it would have looked from any onlooker that Robin was dead.