So… Writing a teen titans fanfics. Boy, it's been a while since I had a plotful story for this fandom.
Lots of warnings apply for this story, including, but not limited to: hurt/comfort, gay pairings, straight pairings, multiple pairings for one character, implied rape, and Slade being the evil bastard we all know he is.
AU from Apprentice, Part 2.
It's a long trip from Jump City to Gotham, especially on a motorcycle (not the R-cycle, probably he'll never ride it again), but Robin makes the trip in record time.
Long stretches of open road don't require much attention, even pushing 160 mph, but he's more attentive than he's ever been, because he can't, won't, can't, won't, can't think about what he's doing or why.
"If the titans are so distracting, maybe I should just get rid of them."
A mistake. He's made them before, but this one is permanent. Unfixable. But it was one mistake or another, and it takes a really talented person to manage to make both of them.
Hell of a talent.
So now he's running away, running home, to the one place that'll always be home – maybe not for Robin any longer, but for…
He breaks into a clothing store in Ohio – it's three in the morning and he doesn't have the time to find a place that's open, and it's not stealing, because he leaves the money for the clothes behind – he's not stealing, he's not breaking the rules again, he's not...
"You'll come to enjoy the thrill."
Jeans, a sweatshirt, a backpack, and he sheds Robin. He wants to throw the suit away, want to shred it, wants to get rid of it because he doesn't deserve to wear it, not anymore, probably never again. Doesn't. He treats the suit with a reverence he's never bothered with before, folding it and tucking it neatly in the backpack.
He buys gas with cash this time, but it's just a gesture. Batman probably already knows he's coming, noticed his funds being accessed in almost a straight line from Jump city.
Don't think about him. Don't think about anything. Just get back on the bike and go. Still got about 400 miles to go.
He sticks to the speed limit now. In civvies, a cop might actually pull him over – would certainly, for going to speed he was. They wouldn't stop Robin. If Robin's going somewhere that fast, it's important. They would clear the way for him. Dick Grayson gets no such privileges.
He makes it to Gotham at about two in the afternoon – he stopped for a short nap on the way because even Robins need to sleep sometimes – even bats.
He leaves the motorcycle behind, walks three blocks, and hails a taxi. The driver tries to make small talk ("You look like hell, kid. What's wrong?") but Dick is steadfastly quiet, and the driver eventually takes the hint and shuts up.
The gates of Wayne manor are as intimidating as ever, but Dick feels like a weight is being lifted from his shoulders when he stands in front of them.
He presses the buzzer, and the crisp, British voice saying "yes?" makes him smile.
"Alfred," he says quietly, "It's me. Let me in?"
The gate slides open without a sound, and Dick walks in, feeling like…
Like a sinner about to beg forgiveness from…
He shakes it off, furiously.
Alfred retains his stiff upper lip; the only things that reveal how shocked he is are that he comes outside to greet him, and an arched eyebrow, "Master Dick, to what do we owe this surprise?"
A million explanations, and he loves Alfred and probably owes him an explanation, but he needs to tell Bruce first.
"I… I need to see Bruce," and his voice comes out so horribly small and lost-sounding that he almost winces at it. Almost. Bruce taught him better than that, at least. And no thinking about what Bruce taught him because he completely disregarded the most important thing of all the things he'd been taught. (But he was justified. Wasn't he justified? It was wrong, but he'd had no choice! No choice.)
"You belong to me now."
Alfred doesn't ask, but then again, he can probably guess. Dick's always worn his heart on his sleeve, no matter how much Robin can keep hidden. Alfred raises an eyebrow (his signature expression), and steps aside to let Dick in.
"Master Bruce is downstairs at the moment, I believe."
They're on the ground floor, and there's no basement under this wing of the house. Dick recognizes exactly what Alfred means.
"Thank you."
He walks inside hesitantly – can Wayne manor still be home after… after… what he did?
Does he have the right to call this place home now that he is…
He is…
He is a murderer.
He shuts his eyes, but that only makes the thought clearer, so he opens them again and toes off his shoes by the door. The rug feels familiar and comforting under his feet, and he walks with only a little hesitation to the grandfather clock that hides the entrance to the Cave.
The Batcave is cold, as usual, and when he walks in to see Bruce sitting at the console, he can almost feel like he never left. Like Bruce is about to say suit up, he's got a lead on the Joker or Penguin or Catwoman. (Whichever one. Pick your poison.)
"I was wondering when you'd get here," Bruce says as he approaches. He doesn't even need to look at Dick to know it's him, "I was expecting you sometime last night."
"I stopped for some sleep," Dick answers, "I mean, not everyone can do without it like you can."
The grin doesn't come easily, and the teasing is strained. He didn't exactly leave on good terms and now he's coming back under terrible circumstances, and he can't sweep it under the rug and pretend nothing happened, even though everything seems so achingly familiar.
"Your friends called me last night," Bruce says, finally turning from the terminal, "Apparently it took them all this time to break the encryption on your files."
There's a subtle compliment there, and where Dick might have once preened from it, now he feels like he doesn't deserve it.
"Dick," Batman says, "What happened?"
Dick perches on a convenient stalagmite and wraps his arms around his knees, "You've talked to them, you already know."
"I have conflicting opinions from four worried and confused teenagers," Batman says, "I can make an educated guess, but –" his voice softens back to Bruce "- I'd like to know from you what really happened."
Oh, god. Dick whimpers a little and hides his face in his arms. How can he admit what he's done? He came here hoping for… something, he's not sure what (he knows exactly what but he's too scared to name it), but actually telling Bruce what he did is just…
"Oh, god," he mutters, the weight of what happened pressing on him. He's run all this way, but he can't run any farther and home can't support this burden.
"Dick," Bruce says from directly in front of him. How he crossed the intervening space without Dick noticing is a mystery (well, not really, he's Batman. Batman can do these things).
Dick looks up at Bruce, and from this seat, he feels like he's eleven again, just discovering this man's amazing secret and so, so awed by him. He reaches up and hugs Bruce like he really is eleven again, and Bruce hugs him back awkwardly (he's never been very good at giving hugs).
"Oh, god, it was a mistake I didn't mean to I swear I never would have I didn't –" he babbles helplessly, because he needs reassurance, he needs Bruce to forgive him even before he can admit his sins, "I never wanted to I couldn't do anything to stop him –"
"Robin," Bruce says, and it's quiet, reassuring but at the same time it's not a voice to be disobeyed, "Tell me what happened."
Dick shivers once, twice, and then gets himself under control. Robin is always controlled, just like the man who trained him, and he can force himself to be Robin for long enough to explain, because right now Dick is falling apart completely.
The words come tumbling out of his mouth all at once, because if he stops, if he lets Robin slip away for even a moment, he won't get his control back, and he has to confess, he has to tell Bruce what happened.
He tells Bruce about Slade's plot, the probes that would kill his friends from the inside out, being forced to steal, hoping waiting for a way to escape, how they discovered what had happened and came charging in to his rescue (loyal, brave idiots, and he loved them so much, how could he let them be hurt?) and how Slade had hurt them again, and how Robin could do nothing, nothing.
He fought furiously, but Slade was simply better than him, faster, smarter, more experienced. Robin was panicking, because his friends were unable to do anything, hurting and running out of time and he had no more time but there was nothing he could do because Slade was anticipating his every move and he couldn't even land a hit.
There was something he could do. Slade wouldn't anticipate it, because Robin was a hero and heroes don't do what Robin did. He slammed his palm up into Slade's chin and twisted, and he heardfelt bone crack and Slade slumped to the floor, surprise in his one blue eye.
Dead.
Dead. Robin had killed him.
Bruce doesn't show any surprise when Dick confesses, but then again, when has the Batman ever been surprised?
"I didn't mean to kill him, I just… I had to do something and there was nothing I could do. I…"
Bruce is silent, and Dick…
…breaks.
Holds Bruce tightly, and cries.