Chapter 102 is finally up! This is a continuation of Chapter 100, so I hope you enjoy!

TW: The drug from last chapter is mentioned but not used again. If that makes you uncomfortable or triggers you in anyway, please don't make yourself uncomfortable. Its only mentioned in this chapter though. 

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READ AND ENJOY!!

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The feeling of waking up in a place you aren't supposed to was still something Dick wasn't used to. He didn't think he'd ever get used to it (and hoped he never did). Waking up after being drugged or hit in the back of the head too hard was never all that fun in his opinion either.

But where did he find himself? Waking up on a bed that didn't feel like his own at feeling the aftereffects of some unknown drug.

At least he was half conscious. His head was a little foggy, but he could sort of move his limbs around.

Nope, scratch that. He was restrained, he couldn't move his arms and legs at all. Awesome.

He didn't remember a fight. Maybe he was kidnapped as himself? He should at least remember some of that too though, right?

He opened his eyes and blinked hard from the light.

An infirmary?

This was the Batcave's Medbay!

Why was he restrained in the Batcave? Dick pulled against the restraints, but they were done tight. Why didn't he remember any of this or any of what he assumed was last night? Who restrained him? Where were Bruce, or Alfred, or his brothers? Did they restrain him?

He needed to calm down, being hysteric wasn't going to help. He stopped pulling against the restraints and looked around the room. He couldn't see outside because of the way the bed was facing, but he couldn't hear anyone out there.

He needed to get out of these restraints and see if something was wrong with the others. Something had to be wrong with them, there was no other logical reason for this.

The restraints, he needed to focus and get out of them. He pulled against them; they were tight but if he could get one hand out, he could get all his limbs out. Which also meant that he had to dislocate his thumb.

Yay.

He maneuvered his hand until it was in the right position and he heard a 'pop' when his thumb dislocated. He hissed lightly but was able to pull his hand out of the restraint and pop his thumb back into place.

Getting his other limbs out would be easier. All he had to do was undo the restraints. Easy-Peasy.

He undid his other hand and sat up before reaching down to get his legs out.

He threw his legs over the side of the cot and stretched. Why did his body ache if he didn't even remember any fighting? Something happened and nothing was coming back to him.

Awesome.

Dick walked out of the infirmary, no one was in the cave, not in this area of it at least. Was everyone up in the manor? Or were they hurt somewhere else?

Dick cupped his hands around his mouth, "B!" He only got an echo and the movement of bats in response. "Nightwing?! Agent A?!"

Nothing, not even some rustling.

"RED HOOD?! RED WING?!" Where were they? Dick ran to the changing room. He changed out of his costume but left his utility belt on just in case. If there was a fight upstairs in the manor, he thought he'd be able to hear it, but he may be wrong.

He ran towards the elevator and tapped his foot anxiously as he waited for it to reach the manor's floor. He stepped out.

No chaos, no thrown over glasses or couches or bookshelves.

Nothing looked wrong.

Should he call for them or just look? Looking was probably the best bet, why risk putting himself and them in more danger by announcing he was up here.

The living room was the closest, he'd start there. He ran out of the room as quietly as he could, looking through the halls for any sign of an intruder.

But there was nothing. Not even a crooked picture frame.

Something wasn't sitting right. Something had to be up, so what was wrong?

He still couldn't hear them or see them when he looked through the living room. He knew all the hiding spots in the room, they'd discussed them in case of emergency and in passing conversations. But they weren't there.

The kitchen, a noise came from the kitchen. Something or someone had to be in there.

Dick bolted out of the room towards the kitchen. He all but skidded to a stop when he came to the door frame, and hid right besides it so no one inside could see him.

It sounded like Bruce and his brothers; they were all in there.

"What are we supposed to tell him then? We can't keep him sedated forever." Was Damian talking about him?

"And if it was this scopolamine drug, what are we supposed to tell him?" Scopolamine? Was that a new drug? Was he down there because he got hit with some new drug?

"We should tell him the truth; he'd find out anyway."

"A great idea, Drake. How do you suggest we tell him that he killed Zucco?"

Killed Zucco?

Him?

Dick stopped listening and turned towards the wall opposite of him.

They weren't talking about him, they couldn't be. He would never kill Zucco, sure he had wanted to, but Bruce convinced him not to.

His hands were shaking, heck, he could feel his whole body shaking. He didn't kill anyone. He wouldn't just not remember killing someone.

He wasn't even thinking when his feet moved towards the kitchen. He was still in some awful horrified trance as he stood just under the door frame.

His voice shook with almost every word, "You're not talking about me, right?"

They all froze, turning towards Dick who had anxiousness written all over himself.

"I didn't kill Zucco, right?" They didn't respond. "Right?!" Dick all but shouted, wrapping his arms around himself.

Everyone in the room got up from where they were sitting and stopped right in front of him. Tim bent down and grabbed him by the shoulders. "Dickie, it wasn't your–"

"I KILLED SOMEONE?! Dick shouted, stepping away from them. He squoze his arms around himself tighter, his nails were leaving red marks wherever they were placed. "I KILLED SOMEONE, OF COURSE IT'S MY FAULT!"

"Richard," Dick turned towards Damian. "What do you remember about last night?"

"I-" Nothing. He remembered nothing. He remembered school, then nothing. "Nothing . . ." He whispered. "Why can't I remember anything after starting patrol?"

"It's because of Slade Wilson, Deathstroke." Bruce said, stepping closer. "He captured you when we started patrol-

"Slade made me kill someone?"

"Slade forcefully made you kill someone." Bruce continued. "He got his hands on a mind-altering drug known as scopolamine, also known as the Devil's Breath. Which is rumored to have the power to take away a person's free will completely.

"He used it on you," Jason added. "You were like a robot when you were fighting us-" Jason cringed immediately after he said it, Tim (who was beside him) slapped him on the back of the head.

Dick tensed up and squeezed himself tighter. "I killed Zucco and fought you guys. Amazing." He said, his voice shaking despite his sarcasm.

"Dick, none of this was your fault." Tim said. "You actually had no control of your body or mind. There was no way for you to even have attempted to overpower what happened."

"But I-

"No buts, Richard. You cannot blame yourself for something you had no control over or recollection of."

He killed someone. He killed Tony Zucco.

He was a murderer.

He didn't deserve to be Robin, Robin didn't kill. His parents would be ashamed. He didn't deserve to wear their colors; he didn't deserve to use their name for him.

He failed.

"You ok there, bud? You look like you just saw a ghost." Jason attempted to joke, but it fell on deaf ears as Dick continued to mentally berate himself. Bruce stepped closer to him and knelt down to his height.

Bruce grabbed Dick by his elbows which shook him out of his thoughts. Dick immediately looked down towards the floor. "Dick, look at me."

Reluctantly, Dick looked up at him.

"What happened was not your fault." Dick opened his mouth to retort but Bruce stopped him. "This is not something you should blame yourself for, because you had no control over it. If anyone had to be blamed, it would be Slade. This doesn't make you evil or corrupt, and it doesn't make you any less of a hero. We've all experienced things like this, things we aren't proud of. But you have to learn not to blame yourself for things you could never have stopped."

Dick stayed quiet before his shoulders slumped and he relaxed a little. "Ok." He whispered, disbelievingly.

Jason slung his arm over Dick's shoulders, almost knocking the boy over. "Look, Dickie. If someone gave you a gun right now would you shoot someone in this room?"

"N-No, of course not!" Dick said, his voice growing with confidence.

"And if someone gave you a mask and gun in a bank would you rob it?"

"No." He said assertively, shaking his head.

"Then if Slade had given you that gun when you had complete control of yourself, you wouldn't have done it."

Dick looked up at Jason and then towards Bruce, Tim, and Damian who nodded along with what Jason had said. They didn't think he was a bad person, and they didn't blame him.

Maybe he shouldn't blame himself either.

. . . Maybe he could still be Robin.

Dick smiled softly, "Alright." 

Yeah! Chapter 102 complete! 

Thanks for waiting and sorry for making you wait. I'm going to start a new writing schedule to see if it'll make me write and post more frequently. So hopefully everything will start updating more smoothly. 

Don't for get to ask questions and leave suggestion!

HAVE A STAR STELLAR DAY WEEK MONTH AND YEAR!!