I don't feel like this is as good, or even really related to the first chapter, but it's been sitting in my computer doing nothing so I figured I may as well post it. Enjoy.

Nightwing once told you the story of how Batman first met him. He'd obviously recited this little anecdote a few times already, because he seemed to know exactly where to leave the pauses, where a small chuckle should be thrown in, which words required the most emphasis. You can imagine him proudly repeating it to the Team, probably with a hand resting upon the new Robin's shoulder. When he tells it to you, it's in a dull, dead voice, with none of his usual animation. The chuckles and the dramatic pauses are still there, but they all fall flat, as though he's simply repeating them out of habit.

This kid had been out, wandering the streets at some ungodly hour of the night. He'd been watching out for wallets to pick, tires to lift, maybe a couple of errands some of the mafia guys wanted him to run. Then, he'd rounded a corner, and what should he see but the one and only Batmobile?

Any sane kid would have turned on their heel and sprinted as fast as they could. If they were feeling generous, they might shout out a few warnings to their fellow residents of Gotham, letting them know that the Bat was nearby. Instead, he did something which very few men would dream of even attempting. He'd grabbed the tire iron which every self-respecting street kid kept tucked away in their jackets, and had gotten straight to work. He'd been three-quaters of the way through his job when Batman turned up, and had first laid eyes on Jason Todd.

Jason Todd, the second Robin, the one no-one (save Alfred and occasionally Dick) ever talks about. The kid who broke one order too many, got just a little too reckless, and as a result became the first hologram to be placed in the grotto. For most members of the Team, he's a vague memory, or a spooky late-night story used to scare the freshmen. For you, though, he lives on, though, as a cautionary tale, a costume in a glass case, a hologram tucked away in one of the darkest and inaccessible corners of the Cave. His ghost haunts you everywhere. It's there, when Batman orders you to stay behind, says that this mission's too dangerous, that he'll handle this one on his own. It cackles quietly in your ear when Nightwing asks you to be careful, and tries to sound professional, but there's always that unmistakable pang of desperation in his voice. It sends a chill through the room whenever you're introduced to a new Leaguer, and they give you that strange look which says that they're looking at the costume and thinking about a completely different person.

And now, it's muttering away in the back of your mind as you desperately fight a roomful of Two-Face's goons. You'd been trying to slip past them, but of course, they had heat and motion sensors on him. This whole mission could be a bust because of you. You give one a good blow to the head with your staff. Stupid. Another one gets kneed violently in the gut. We were all expecting this eventually, weren't we? You drop a smoke bomb in the hope that it will confuse your enemies a little more than it will confuse you. You think Grayson's going to make it in time? Or will Brucey have another kid to add to his list of failed sidekicks? One of them suddenly lunges at you with a knife, and you stagger back into an awkward dodge. A fist appears out of nowhere and slams into your side. Not like anyone was expecting you to last anyway. Suddenly, there's another first, and another, and you have to fling yourself away from that knife slashing towards you. And then another man approaches you, sniggering and raising his weapon- a crowbar, you realize with a jolt of horror, but a black batarang suddenly materializes out of nowhere and strikes him in the arm. Relief surges through you. They're here, you're not going to die, they're going to get you out of this.

This time around, at least, the ghost chuckles quietly. You open your mouth to respond, and immediately chide yourself- don't be an idiot, he's not real and he can't hear you. You almost don't register the glint of the metal pipe as it swings towards your head. You feel a surge of panic, hear a sharp crack, and the fading sound of Jason's laughter as you instantly lose consciousness.

There is something unmistakable about hospital rooms.

Even before you open your eyes, even before you have properly drifted back into the world of the living, your senses begin to pick up upon the sharp smell of medicine and the unusually clean air as it is sucked into your lungs. The steady beep…. beep of a heart monitor thrums from somewhere to your right. Somebody must have put some drugs into your system- you can feel them as they are pumped through your veins, into your head, clouding and your mind and reducing your thoughts to a groggy mess.

For a number of seconds, you remain completely unmoving, as you piece together the splintered shards of your memory. Your name is Tim Drake. Robin. You were ambushed. Probably injured quite badly, considering the fact that you are lying in what appears to be the Watchtower's medical bay. You open your eyes slowly, reluctantly, and take in the darkened room. It's a stereotypical hospital room- minimal furnishing, spotless walls and floors, machinery humming away in the corner. Ordinarily, you might have investigated a little further, but you can feel the drugs beginning to take hold again and your brain begins to cloud over. Both eyes are sliding shut, preparing to take you back to the world of drug-induced sleep.

And then suddenly, they snap open again. Your peripheral vision has detected something which is certainly not typical of a hospital room. Carefully, slowly, hardly daring to breathe, you slide your eyes to the right and quietly process the information before you.

A dark figure is standing in the corner of the room, utterly unmoving.

Your heart gives a gigantic jolt, and adrenaline immediately courses through your system. You can feel your body fighting against the drugs, trying desperately to keep you awake, to learn more about this potential threat. You drag yourself up into a half-sitting position, carefully note the location of the emergency button installed next to the bed, and turn to inspect this person further.

His mouth twisted into a small smirk. His fists are clenched at his sides, his jaw clenched determinedly, his eyes fixed directly ahead. You know this pose well. You've spent countless hours staring at it, down in the grotto of the Cave. This Jason is certainly similar to his hologram, but as the blurriness subsides you are able to pick out more and more differences. The nimble, lithe fourteen-year-old frame has filled out. He's abandoned the Robin costume, replaced it with a brown leather jacket and a pair of ragged jeans. The mask, too, has gone- you can see two unnaturally bright, green eyes glinting at you through the shadows.

'Jason?' you choke. The single word comes out as a pathetic little whimper, and you immediately wish you could take it back. Even if this is a delusion, some strange product of your drugged-up mind, you still feel an undeniable need to impress him.

His smirk widens slightly, but he gives no other reply.

'But you- you're dead,' you say. An embarrassing stutter has crept into your words- it's a habit you picked up from Nightwing. Jason throws back his head, laughs loudly. The sound pounds through your head and you have a childish desire to clap your hands over your ears. Then, suddenly, the laughter stops, like someone has just flicked a switch and shut it down. Jason's expression quickly morphs from amusement to one of black, burning anger.

'Don't remind me,' he says coldly. He steps closer, and you are transfixed by those bright green eyes. They almost seem to glow in this poorly-lit room, but that isn't what unnerves you. They're wide, filled with rage, fixing upon your face with a frightening intensity. The eyes of a madman.

'Am I…?' you murmur, throwing a quick, nervous glance around the room.

'Not yet,' Jason says.

'I was knocked out,' it's a stupid, irrelevant observation, but your brain is growing increasingly reluctant to cooperate with your mouth. 'Batman's going to kill me. I could have died.' You cringe at the helplessness in your voice.

He chuckles again and takes a step forward, allowing his face to be illuminated by the overhanging light. 'Wow. You really are my opposite, aren't you?' You instantly want to reply, give some witty retort to prove that you've got something in common with your predecessors. The best you can manage, though, is a blank, stupid stare. He doesn't seem to mind. He just ploughs right on, each word growing more venomous than the last. 'Guess it helped justify what they were doing, right? Replacing me, handing my costume over to some kid who's nothing like me and pretending that I never even existed.' It takes all of your willpower not to shrink away from Jason as he bears down on you. His eyes are vacant and at the same time smoldering with rage.

'They didn't… they didn't do that,' you mumble. 'They didn't forget you.'

'Could've fooled me,' he mutters darkly.

'You're wrong. They miss you.' He quickly directs his gaze to the ground. You stare awkwardly down at your hands as your mouth rambles on. 'Bruce can't forget you. You were his-'

You look up. The room is empty.

'-son.'

Someone- Black Canary?- is striding in, saying something about a strange spike in the heart rate, but she's beginning to sound like she's underwater, and your vision is fading very quickly to black. For a few seconds, you try feebly to keep your eyes open and your brain alert, but the drugs are quickly taking hold, dragging you back into the world of dreams.

You dream of Gotham, its blood red horizon and sneering gargoyles and filthy buildings. And then suddenly you're with the Team on a mission, and then you're back at Gotham Academy, and then you're lounging on a chair in your family's beach house. Various people- Barbara, your father, that woman you saved last week- drift in and out of each dream, muttering a few nonsensical words before they fade away again. There is one boy, however, who is always there, tucked away in the background, stalking you through your sleep.

He has messy black hair, a nimble frame, and a stubborn scowl fixed upon his face. His name is- was- Jason Todd. He was reckless, impulsive, cocky, violent, snarky and disrespectful. And for some strange reason, you respect him more than every other hero you've met.