***Okay, so I wanted to make some changes to this story, basically making all of the chapters a bit longer, but beyond that not much plot wise has changed. I ended up writing this opening intro paragraph on a whim and decided to use it but beyond that, I've only made some slight edits. More details to follow in other chapters! Enjoy!

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This was inspired by the following stories on Ao3 where this fic is cross-posted:

Always Answer The Phone by Disco_Wing.

Hearsay by haunt_the_stars.

Relictus by haunt_the_stars.

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*Disclaimer: I don't own any of these characters! I'm just being a horrible human being!

WARNINGS: THIS WORK WILL CONTAIN A SUICIDE ATTEMPT, SELF-HARM, SELF-HATRED, DESCRIPTION OF A SUICIDE, AND OTHER RELATED TOPICS. READ WITH CAUTION!

If ANY OF THESE ARE TRIGGERS FOR YOU, PLEASE DO NOT READ!

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Inspired by Resumé (by Dorothy Parker)

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It happened during his second or third year as Robin. He didn't really remember and it didn't really matter now. All he knew was that any normal, average kid shouldn't have seen what he had at that age. But he had never been normal even before he'd donned spandex, a cape, and a domino mask.

It was late spring, right before school let out for summer vacation and he hadn't been able to sit still at all during that patrol. Dick Grayson had finally gotten permission, after weeks of begging and some help from Alfred, to bring Barbara over to the Manor and he couldn't wait! He felt he was well within his right to be fidgety with excitement. His mentor apparently disagreed with him on that. Batman had been exasperated, but Robin was able to read his mentor well enough to sense well-hidden amusement. He wasn't sure if he should've felt annoyance at that or not. It didn't matter to him at the moment though.

Suddenly, panicked shouts coming from a few block away grabbed the vigilantes' attention away from their usual patrol route. Not needing to communicate verbally, Batman and Robin took out their grappling guns and fired them off, jumping and swinging in the direction of the noise. They quickly reached the source of the noise that was growing louder and more hysteric.

"Miss, please step away from the edge!" Commissioner Gordon's voice was easily recognizable despite its slight distortion from the mega-phone he was shouting through.

On the street below them, there were several police cars arranged in a semi-circle around the building across from them. Some of the officers were creating a barricade between a panicking crowd and the building. Robin could just make out the Commissioner in the jumbled chaos below pointing upward at the 45-story building across the street from Batman and himself.

Robin felt his blood run cold.

On the top of the building stood a young teenager who couldn't have been more that 16 years old. Her posture was loose and relaxed, blonde hair whipping around her in the wind. Before the Commissioner could say another word, before Batman or himself could move a muscle, the young teenager took a step off of the roof and fell. Robin felt himself fall to his knees, unable to move despite the frantic urging in his mind that he needed to move, he had to save her! But it was too late. Batman had tried to catch the falling teenager, but had missed by centimeters. The sickening smack of the body hitting pavement somehow managed to reach his ear drums over the screaming crowd of on-looking civilians. Everything faded into white noise as he didn't do anything but stare vacantly down at the crumpled body. Suddenly he wasn't seeing a teenage girl's broken body, blood seeping out from underneath it and staining the pavement. He was looking at the broken bodies of his parents.

The firm grasp of a hand on his shoulder startled him. He instinctively threw a punch which Batman blocked easily. Robin felt himself fall forwards into Batman's embrace and everything went black.

He woke up in the BatCave, confusion warring inside his mind. It didn't take long for the memories to catch up with him and suddenly he was sobbing. Careful arms wrapped around his shoulders and he found himself crying into his mentor's neck. Bruce didn't say anything, simply holding him as he waited for Dick's sobs to cease.

"Why?" Dick croaked out after a long moment.

Bruce, the ever-perceptive detective, didn't need him to explain his one-word question.

"I don't know," Bruce murmured. "I don't know."

Bruce let Dick skip school until the end of the school year which was only 3 days. He had Dick talk with Dinah about what he'd seen which was partially successful. Dick did open up, a bit, but he couldn't tell her everything. Even if she did know Robin was really Dick Grayson, some things were just too personal for him to share. That and he didn't really have the best track record with therapists. No offense to Dinah, but he'd had less than fantastic encounters with people who worked in psychology. Scarecrow and Harley Quinn were perfect examples of that. Eventually things began to get better and his nightmares faded away once again only to be replaced by new ones filled with maniacal laughter and sadistic red-lipped grins.

Dick didn't know what would possibly drive a person to do… to do that, but he promised himself one night after he'd woken from a nightmare where bodies hit the ground with sickening splats followed by a puddle of red, that he'd never be in that teenage girl's position.

Years later, Dick would recollect those memories and break down into hysteric tears of desperation.

Technically he wasn't breaking his promise.

He wouldn't be ending his life with a broken body and a puddle of blood staining the pavement.