Bear with me guys, this is going to get a little complicated and a bit angsty. Also, just a warning, but you won't see too much of the Young Justice team until later on. I was tempted to put this in the crossover section, but decided not to in the end.

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters written or the world they belong to.

Robin cringed as Batman snarled at him. The harsh words coming out of his mentor's mouth hit him hard; each one causing his chest to squeeze in agony. His teammates stood warily around them. Superboy had been supporting him, one arm around his waist to keep him steady.

"You killed someone tonight. You're just as bad as they are!" Batman roared.

"Hey!" Superboy growled back, removing his arm and standing protectively in front of him.

"I never should have taken you on as my partner!"

Robin stood still, eyes wide with hurt. Never should have… Batman was right. He killed someone. Let them fall to their deaths just like…

He couldn't breathe. His chest hurt.

It hurt.

"Robin?"

Who was talking? Something bubbled up inside of him and he turned and ran. He couldn't see and it hurt. It hurt so much.

"Robin!"

He didn't feel the arms that caught him, didn't hear the voices screaming his name, and didn't see the worry and panic on his teammates' faces. He couldn't breathe. Robin's vision came back in time to see a window and darkness far too deep to simply be the night. Rough arms holding him threw him through the glass of the window, shards cutting his face and chest.

It hurt.

Looking back up at the window, he realized he was falling further away and the window was disappearing. His body turned in circles, weightless as he fell deeper into the dark. Disorientation made him feel sick, his head throbbed, and the tiny window of light above him was swallowed up in darkness.

With a few lazy blinks Robin found himself staring at a happy family walking together down the streets. As if breaking from a trance, he shook his head and tried to gain a grasp of his surroundings. He didn't have much time to gain his bearings; a scream brought his attention back to the happy family. A man with a gun was threatening them. The father slowly pushed his son behind his larger body protectively.

Robin's body moved on instinct. He descended upon the would-be mugger, knocking him back and away from the family with a well placed kicked to the chest. A shot was fired, ripping into the flesh of his shoulder. Stifling a cry of pain, Robin instead reached for a birdarang. Before Robin could throw it, he noticed the mugger had switched targets. Diving in front of the kid, another bullet hit his body. The Kevlar suit protected him from the bullet puncturing skin, but he could feel his ribs break.

Underneath him he felt the child tremble.

"Bruce!" the kid's mother screamed.

Robin blinked. Bruce? Another shot was fired while Robin was distracted and he felt it puncture his left leg. Cursing, he twisted around, birdarang striking the hand of his attacker. A cry of pain erupted from his enemy and the clatter of the gun being dropped echoed through the street. Footsteps getting fainter told him the man had fled from the scene. He rolled off of the kid and onto his back on the cold, dirty pavement, hissing in pain when large hands hurried to cover his wounds.

"Kid, you okay? Oh god, we need an ambulance!" The man he'd just saved applied more pressure to his leg. "I think it hit your artery. Shit!"

"Bruce, you stay here with your father. I'll go find us help." The lady kissed the boy after making sure he was unharmed.

"Be careful!" The man called. "That guy might still be out there!"

"I will!"

Robin focused on his breathing. It hurt. His shoulder burned and his leg felt like it was ripping itself apart. If this man was right—if the bullet had struck his artery he'd be dead within minutes. Breathe Robin. Breathe.

"Hang in there kid, help is coming." The man whispered to him.

"Thanks." A small voice whispered next to him. Robin was startled when he felt hands a little smaller than his grasp his. "You didn't have to—why'd you save us?"

Robin struggled with what to say. "It's my job."

"Your job?" The man frowned down at him. "You're brave kid, I'll give you that, but it shouldn't be a kid's job to save people."

Robin didn't fail to see that worry etched into the man's face. From the lightheadedness sweeping over him, he could only guess that the man's assumption was right. He was bleeding out.

"What's your name?" Robin asked, trying to distract both himself and this family he'd saved.

"I'm Thomas Wayne. This is my son Bruce."

Dick's eyes widened. "Bruce…"

The smaller hands tightened around his own, a desperate attempt to encourage to keep hold on his life. "What's your name?"

Dick couldn't believe it. He'd just saved Bruce Wayne. He just saved Batman. His thoughts brought him back to when Alfred had briefly told the tragic story of how Bruce became Batman. His parents had been killed by a mugger. He was never caught.

"I never should have taken you on as my partner!"

The words rang in his ears and his chest throbbed. Robin's eyes stung and he tried to hold back the tears. Batman—Bruce had never said anything like that to him before.

"Kid?" Thomas Wayne pressed harder, nearly panicking when he noticed Robin didn't seem to feel it.

"My name… it's Robin." He choked out. It hurt to breathe, it hurt to think.

A realization came to him as his vision started to blur. If he'd just saved Bruce's family, Bruce wouldn't become Batman. Bruce was going to grow up happy. In a way, hadn't Robin repented of his sin?

"You're just as bad as they are!"

But he'd saved people. It wasn't… he didn't mean to let that henchman fall. He didn't mean it. It hurt.

"Robin?"

"Kid, can you hear me? Just hang on!"

"Robin!"

Was he a hero now? Would Batman forgive him now that he'd saved his parents? No. Robin thought bitterly. By saving Bruce's happiness, he'd killed Batman. He'd done what the Joker could not. But it was better this way, better for Bruce. Bruce could be happy. Bruce had a family now.

Robin didn't notice that he'd stopped breathing. Neither did he realize that he couldn't see anymore.