I don't own Young Justice.

Chapter 1—

"What simulation? Oh my God, I forgot. Bruce, this isn't real? Can you hear me? J'onn, terminate it now."

His knees were worn down beyond pain, blood seeped down his calf but he valiantly ignored and instead continued crawling on through the service duct. The buzz from the murder investigation had died down to pure fear of who the perpetrator was. Gotham Academy was a very prestigious place with all of the big names sending their children there; now murder has struck the press would be swarming like flies around a pig sty. And after the commotion died down, people would leave, refusing to be targets with poor security. Boy Wonder had easily slipped in, in return for an autograph, a kid had shown him the air ducts; now he was slipping soundlessly through the vents.

"Bee, you are so going to jail."

The kid, Barbara, wouldn't stop murmuring behind him; she was determined to follow. Since it was the Commissioner's daughter, he was doubtful but it was just a crime scene and no danger was present. He expected blood and if the girl was to throw up then there were plenty of toilets around in the bathroom. The name Boy Wonder had been shortened among the kids and now he was Bee. As if the name wasn't bad enough, she just wouldn't stop talking; what didn't that loud red-head understand about stealth?

"What is it called? 'Tampering with a crime scene'?" She really was relentless. If Boy Wonder had room to turn around and slap her then he would but he didn't so he was left fuming silently as he crawled.

"We're investigating, nothing more." He shuffled to stop at the grate he wanted, he unhinged it and dropped down lightly into the locked down area of the bathroom. "This city isn't going to change if there aren't vigilantes around to bend the rules a bit." He hissed back.

Barbara's breath hitched from the vent where she hadn't dropped down. Boy Wonder's eyes grazed the area and he ran through ideas and theories. The toilet cubicles took up the far wall, the sinks took up the right. She was just discarded in the centre of the room. The room's lights were switched off when the place was put under lock-down to await the coroner and so the scene was hard to see. However, the little light that escaped from beneath the door glinted off that dark crimson that seemed to be everywhere.

Boy Wonder's gaze snagged on the girl's lips, noticing they held a tint of blue to them and the purple bruises on the neck. Barbara didn't throw up; instead, after regaining from her original shock, she jumped down and joined him. She crouched next to where 'Bee' stood and glanced up; she was as calm as she was beautiful.

"How long did this psycho strangle her for?"

"It must have been minutes at least, but the severity of the marks says longer." He thought aloud, "Are you okay? Did you know her? I mean, I know you were…"

"She was in my year but not in my Home room. We talked but we were never close."

Boy Wonder nodded as he looked over her more carefully noticing how her skin had discoloured due to Livor Mortis but the affected area was the front of her while she lay on her back. She had been moved several hours after the death—as for the time itself, it came to about twelve to twenty-four hours. It made sense, bathrooms were locked down at lights-out, and the ones on this block were at least.

"Why didn't she cry out, get help?"

"She would have been out cold in seconds."

"Is your investigation over?"

In answer, he brought out the small box of advanced tech from his pocket and snapped a quick radiograph of the poor girl's throat. The scan revealed the overall opaque form of her neck. He muttered profanities under his breath and checked the device. He improvised quickly, using the aluminium box that protected the machine to control what wave-length made it through. He finally received a clear x-ray. The larynx was intact, as was the hyoid bone. So no one un-naturally strong but a normal—yet admittedly twisted—person was to blame here.

Who would get the benefit out of killing a child?

"What was her name?"

"Talleen Estel, daughter of the owner of Estel fragrances. She always had the nicest perfume."

Boy Wonder strode to the door and opened it, on the other side a startled Commissioner saw his daughter and only got more confused. He opened his mouth to ask but Boy Wonder cut him off with a wave of his hand.

"The Estel family funds a lot of Gotham. They're going to grant a two million dollar check towards Arkham to improve security. Bane has no interest in killing kids; there are no clues so it's not Riddler. Two-Face would make a scene with his coin, that didn't happen, and there are no plants—as much as Poison Ivy would hate the pharmaceutical company. Joker broke out last week, correct? I think he's trying to…discourage…the family. If Arkham actually tried, then it would be harder for him to break out to cause his chaos. Understand?"

The Commissioner nodded, didn't once miss a beat; then he asked the dreaded question, "How did you get in?"

He ignored him, "Relay all information to Batman, will you? Super-Villains aren't my turf."

"Thank you."

A second officer tapped Commissioner Gordon on the shoulder, "Bruce Wayne called again about Richard Grayson, and I told him we have no further information regarding his disappearance a year and a half ago. Should we presume him dead, sir? It has been a grim winter."

"No, no. The boy…" he sighed, "There is still every chance. It's only been a year, he's survived longer."

"I see, sir, also, the kids will have to leave."

"Do you not see who this is?" The Commissioner demanded, pointing to the masked boy.

"I am aware but all the same."

"I don't wish to be an exception, I'm leaving anyway." He walked past them and disappeared around the next corner, leaving Barbara to slip past her Dad unseen.

As Boy Wonder made his exit through the front door, he walked past the lines of worrying students who were waiting to be picked up by their parents; he could feel their eyes on him. After what happened tonight, a murder of a young girl in a place they were meant to feel safe, the needed the morale boost. Nevertheless, he had different things on his mind, such as what the officer had said. Had it really been a year and a half? Was he now twelve? Maybe he ought to make an appearance, he thought.

Batman was still shaking from that nightmare. What did it mean? Was he stupid? It was clear what it meant. He rushed home, rushed to the Batmobile with a tracker in hand read to find the boy. Then Alfred stopped him and told him that the Commissioner had left a message that afternoon regarding the enquiry he had made that morning about Richard Grayson. It had caught his attention and the billionaire pulled down the cowl and asked for more information. When the butler sighed, he twitched.

"Are you aware of the Gotham Academy murder?"

"Was it…"

"No, Richard is fine; they found him amongst the crowd, happy luck I guess. As for the victim, well, Boy Wonder left a message, detailing everything. I assume it's Boy Wonder, it's written on a textbook page in marker pen and was left at the cave secret entrance outside."

"Let me see the note."

The elderly man handed it to him with a sigh, "Here sir, as you can see, he looked at the body."

"Is there something wrong Alfred?"

"Yes sir, Boy Wonder left through the front, so many cameras saw him and…well…when you told me he was young, I didn't think you meant still in Primary School. I mean, sir, I know you became his mentor to help him but you can't be there all the time. While you're fighting Super-Villians, he's fighting his own crooks. What if a crook happens to be more then just your average burglar?"

"You can't deny Gotham needs him. I waste so much time with Joker and his eccentric plans that I miss all of the other, less loud, crime that happen all the time."

"Master Bruce, Gotham needs you but at least you waited until you were twenty one, an adult and highly trained. This boy is smart, just look at this detective work; he has talent but isn't that all the more worrying if he wastes it? Think of his childhood, what child is willing to abandon everything for the sake of this life?" He turned away, "Children are meant to be happy and naïve, not tormenting themselves; be it over who they couldn't save or the criminal they couldn't catch. And no child should ever spend a night wiping up their blood from a knife wound."

"Not all children are happy and naïve, Alfred."

"You think he lost someone sir?"

"Yes, you are right in that no kid would sacrifice so much for this cause if they didn't have a reason."

"What will you do?"

"Nothing, Alfred; he's given this case to me. He's not stupid enough to go against the Joker but he's told me he won't meet me tonight, to give me time to verify his theory and catch the culprit. As for Richard, I'll call Gordon tomorrow. I still want to adopt, you know."

"We have two kids on our hands to help."

"Richard needs help more then Trace. He can't handle much and he's so vulnerable but Boy Wonder can take a blow, mentally and physically. Do you think I should call Gordon now, just in case?"

"If you think it best."

The Joker would be planning his next move and Batman had recovered from the shock of the dream. The boy was okay, normal, just like ever, he was taunting the news and chasing up cases for himself or to give to Bruce. The dream wasn't real, it couldn't have been real; he was making it up himself. The Boy of Gotham's night would tell him before he even thought of…suicide.

The Commissioner must have been waiting by the phone or something along those lines because it only rang once before he picked it up. "Hello."

"It's Bruce, Jim; I heard you had some good news for me. I hope it is good news at least."

"He's fine; Richard is just staying in hospital to get his strength back. He is different somehow, but he would be after so long in his situation. That boy is nearing the point of no return mentally, no pressure but he can't run away again. He might not be as lucky this time."

"I understand, I've been thinking the same thing but I don't want to force him into anything, it's his choice as much as it is my choice."

"I'm staying with him tonight."

"He asked you again? Last time he ran away."

"He didn't ask me; in fact he won't speak at all."

"What do you mean?" Bruce settled down at his desk, eyebrows furrowed, and Alfred left to fetch coffee.

"I mean, he won't respond in any way. It's some sort of trance he won't break out of. Dr. Leslie is worried and that worries me." From the noise from the other end, Bruce could tell he was at the hospital then. "Hang on."

Bruce listened as Leslie's voice could be heard in conversation with Gordon and then he was back, "How is he?" He asked, aware that the conversation was on the boy.

"He's asleep with an IV."

"I should wait until tomorrow and let him rest for now. Will you tell him I'll visit at 11am?"

"Will do. And I'll keep an eye on him."

"In case he bolts or in case he hurts himself?" He asked and immediately regretted reminding himself.

The image of watching the boy desecrate his own flesh in hope for that short escape burned in his brain. Imagining how the boy faired all alone on the street once more twisted Bruce's insides. He personally fought the cities demons and he could defend himself but that poor boy was helpless and yet walking into that danger because he thought the danger was at the orphanage. In a way it was, the adoption system was rubbish, especially at the Detention Centre. It was understandable that he trusted no one but it wouldn't help the healing process.

"…he won't respond in any way…"

That sentence worried Bruce. Maybe he had snapped, had the time on the street been too much? Could the kid really be 'gone'? Was his childhood 'gone', his happiness 'gone', his hope 'gone' all because his sanity had slipped? Bruce simply refused to give up on the boy, even if his own mind already had; it would be a shame to let such a brilliant mind dwindle and die in the depths of Gotham.

Swallowing down the memory of him alone and rocking in the mental hospital, he bid a farewell to the Commissioner and hung up. He leant back in his chair, closing his eye and wiping the sweat from his face, just as Alfred knocked courteously and entered to set a tray down on Bruce's desk. Bruce sent the butler a look, as he poured the coffee, which said, 'I know you won't give up on him.'

I have been not uploading for a while to write these in advance. I wasn't sure if this series would work. Let me know what you think.

Nevertheless, nine chapters are already written; I'll upload them every now and then.