A/N

This story dives into the darker side of Teen Titans (harking back to episodes like Haunted, The End, and others). Warning for readers: blood, death, and other very adult themes are mentioned. Disclaimer: I do not own the Teen Titans or any of their franchises.

Lose Control

Robin sighed as he rubbed his eyes in tiredness. It was late; too late, and he should've been in bed hours ago. However, after a rousing game of Stinkball between Cyborg and Beastboy, Robin had returned from the training room that afternoon to find all his files out of order and strewn about the hallway. After learning that Beastboy had thrown them at Cyborg to try to keep him away, Robin tiredly dismissed the two before getting to work. He reorganized the files, pouring over the names of countless villains he and the rest of the Titans had taken down and put behind bars. Cinderblock, Control Freak, Mad Mod . . . the list went on and on. As he placed the files back into their respective cabinets, something inside him twinged in annoyance as he realized one file was missing. Finding the file on the floor underneath his desk, he picked it up and dusted it off.

Slade. Robin's teeth ground just looking at the man's name, and as he opened the file, his rage spiked. His arch-nemesis. His rival, and even his . . . superior, at least in some respects. He hated Slade. Hated that the man seemed incapable of ever being caught, taken down, or imprisoned. Slade always seemed to be one, or three, steps ahead of Robin in every aspect, and that was why Robin knew he had to always be on alert. Jump City could go up in flames if he got complacent.

Robin got up from his chair, still holding the file. It would probably be better if his file on Slade went somewhere more suitable, but Robin knew if any of his friends found him in that particular room at this time of night, they would label him as obsessed. But he wasn't obsessed. This was Slade they were dealing with! Didn't they know that?!

The door to the room Robin was searching for opened. Robin stepped in, and as the light automatically snapped on, he looked around. There were artifacts of all the criminals they'd ever caught tacked up on the walls. But the room was largely devoted to Slade, which was why Robin feared what his friends would think at finding him here. Newspaper articles of the man were everywhere, as were several Sladebot masks, a few of Slade's gadgets Robin had recovered after he and Slade sparred during one of their numerous fights, and half of Slade's own mask. Folded up in the middle of the room sat a single suit, surrounded by various gadgets with a horrific "S" imprinted on the front of each one. Tossing the Slade folder onto the table, Robin picked up the suit and held it out, snarling under his breath before throwing the suit across the room in anger.

He hadn't forgotten, and it would be impossible for him to ever forget. Though he hadn't been Slade's apprentice long, the experience marred him like a brand and haunted his dreams and his nightmares each and every night. How could he forget the training sessions, the numerous threats, the learning how to effectively use lethal weapons? How could he forget Slade's training him how to steal? How could he forget the time Slade taught him how to kill?

It wasn't as if he were incapable of doing these things on his own, but as a hero, such brutal tactics never even crossed his mind. It wasn't a hero's way to steal, much less to kill. He wasn't like Slade. He wasn't an assassin. Killing was something that Robin would never do. "I'm not like you, Slade," Robin growled, pulling a Sladebot mask from the wall and glaring at it, pretending it was actually Slade himself. "I never will be!" With that shout, Robin threw the mask across the room. It hit the wall and fell to the ground, and Robin froze, hoping that he hadn't woken his teammates up.

After several moments, Robin sighed. He was far too tired to be playing mind games with himself. Robin walked over to the uniform that Slade had given him, picking it up and noticing the tears in the fabric. He pushed away the thoughts of Slade and folded up the garment, placing it back in its position on the table. He hung the Sladebot mask back up, then glanced around the room one last time. Two months. It had been two months since he'd been Slade's apprentice, and it'd been two months since he'd even seen Slade or heard the man's name on the news. But that didn't mean Slade was gone. Far from it.

Robin gritted his teeth again. Slade was definitely up to something. He was probably planning some nefarious scheme and would soon strike like a cobra in the night. But until Robin could either find the man or hear rumor of his plan, he would be blind. So he would simply have to wait to see what happened next, trying his best to be ready. Robin glanced over his shoulder before leaving the room, looking directly at his apprentice uniform before the door closed.

Turning from the room, Robin didn't go to his bedroom to get some much needed rest. Instead, he went toward the doors to the tower, planning on checking on Slade's old lair one last time. As long as Slade was still around, Robin couldn't rest. He couldn't even blink, or else he might find himself in the same position as before. And that would not happen again. Robin wouldn't let it.

"Dude, give it up. You're not going to find him."

Moments away from leaving, Robin whirled around, equally panicked and embarrassed at getting caught. He found himself face-to-face with Cyborg. "What are you doing up?" he asked.

"I could ask you the same question," Cyborg said.

Robin blushed. "I'm just . . . going out for a bit."

"You're not gonna find him, Robin," Cyborg said.

Robin balled his hands into fists, blushing again. "I don't know what you're talking — "

"We all know where you've been going, Robin," Cyborg said. "The first time you left, we followed you. You were trying to find Slade, right? You went to his lair, looked everywhere, then came back and told us you got lost trying to find a pizza joint. Really."

Robin sighed, his hands going limp. "It's just . . . I need to find him. I need to know what he's up to."

"If he doesn't want you to find him, he won't be found," Cyborg said. "You of all people should know that. Besides, who cares what he's up to? Who cares finding out what he's planning? Once he even moves a muscle, we'll be there to take him down — "

Robin suddenly slammed a fist into the wall to his left. "Are you crazy, Cyborg? You think it's no big deal to let Slade just plan and plot and scheme behind the scenes? What about last time, huh? You didn't even know those . . . those things were inside you until it was too late! You all could've died, and you're calling me crazy for being a little worried — "

"I never said you were crazy, Robin!" Cyborg shouted back, their voices escalating. "But don't you think it's a bit obsessive to go check on someone's whereabouts at three in the morning?"

"Are you doing that again?" Robin snarled. "Calling me obsessive?"

"Yeah, I am!" Cyborg shouted back. "Look, Robin, even if you do find him, what are you going to do, huh? You think going at it alone, in your condition, is going to do anything?"

"Are you saying I'm weak?" Robin growled.

"Dude, you know you can't take Slade down by yourself!" Cyborg said. "You haven't slept in a week, and if you managed to find him now, what do you think would happen? He'd annihilate you! In fact, he might just decide to make you his apprentice again!"

"Shut up about that!" Robin yelled. "Don't treat it like it's some sort of joke or game! Being under Slade was the worst experience of my life!"

"I'm not saying it wasn't horrible," Cyborg said, lowering his voice. "I'm just saying that you need to chill. You need to stop thinking about Slade for one nanosecond, and you need to sleep. Look, I'll strike a deal with you. If you go to bed right now and sleep, I'll gather the team and we'll look for Slade tomorrow. Together. Got it?"

Robin sighed, rubbing his eyes in tiredness again. He looked up at Cyborg, finally nodding his head. "All right. Fine. You've got yourself a deal," he muttered.

Cyborg grinned. "Great. Now get to bed, man. You're dead on your feet."

Robin nodded, slowly walking toward his bedroom. After saying goodnight to Cyborg, he went to his bedroom and fell onto his bed. He laid there for several minutes, then sat up. No, Cyborg was wrong. He wasn't being obsessive. He was protecting his team.

Robin got up, and, with years of Batman's training behind him, left his room without a sound and once again made his way to the doors of the Tower. Overriding Cyborg's system shutdown, Robin opened the doors and raced into the night. He hadn't wanted to lie to Cyborg, but it was necessary. He had to keep them safe; he couldn't — wouldn't — let his teammates suffer again. And he would never again be Slade's apprentice.