Teen Titans: Never Alone

Rated T for Teen

Fully disclaimed of ownership

Author's Note: Oh yeah, this on-a-roll is still a-rollin'! xD I can't lie to my new readers - this kind of update schedule is VERY atypical for me. But I really love this story. It's flowing so easily and I can really have fun with it. :3 LOTS of fun with it...

This chapter's a little shorter, but I can't possibly add onto it... xD Enjoy!

Chapter 6: Subdermal

It was a strange sensation on his forehead that aroused him from sleep. He moaned a little, reaching to swipe the odd feeling away and maybe fall back asleep. His fingers grazed something flat and crinkly where the skin of his forehead should have been, and he squinted through bleary eyes, perplexed at the yellow square obstructing the middle of his sight.

...what the...

...oh... a post-it note...

He fumbled for it clumsily, sleep still holding too firm a grip on his fingers for them to work properly. He finally managed to peel the adhesive paper backing from his skin, and frowned as he peered down at the note, flipping it over, inspecting it groggily.

"The fact I was able to put this on your face without waking is proof of how asleep you were," the note read on one side, and on the other, "Thanks for following orders. You are now free to move about the tower. ~Cy"

Following orders, Robin thought with a weary little smile, crinkling the note into a ball, casting it aside and then slumping into the mattress, head against the pillow. The day he orders me around…

He suddenly blinked into the bedsheets, as though just realizing where he was, and just remembering why.

He gulped and slowly lifted his head, carefully glancing around the dim hospital wing. A clock read 11:53pm. Small emergency lights illuminated the room with a soft glow. Curtains beside each cot fluttered eerily from the air conditioning. On the counter at his bedside stood a vial of liquid, labeled with his name, standing atop another post-it note.

But where was…

He backtracked a little, and felt his heart sink as his gaze fell upon that familiar figure, standing in the corner, lone eye gazing at him with watchful intensity. Robin swallowed back his disappointment, slowly sitting himself up, turning his gaze away from the stalking villain. It fell on the vial. He reached a hand out and grabbed it, glancing at the note.

"'There's nothing wrong with you, but I knew you'd want this anyway,'" he read quietly aloud. He read it over again silently, as though that would make the beginning of the note suddenly become fact. His fingers closed securely around the small glass container as he shut his eyes tight, taking a deep breath, feeling a wave of emotion gathering strength.

How could it be? There had to be something. Hallucinations didn't just happen…

He expected Slade to interject with something – some snide remark, some withering insult, some annoying question. But the room remained deathly quiet. Robin stole a glance at the masked mercenary.

Slade hadn't moved from his spot. He simply stood there. Staring.

"What, are you broken?" Robin asked in a hushed voice, standing up. He slowly trudged up to the motionless criminal, clutching the vial closer to himself as he went. Slade's eye followed him the whole time, but he remained silent. Robin gritted his teeth. "Come on!" he rasped, trying to yell while still keeping his voice down. "Aren't you going to pester me, frustrate me? Drive me completely crazy? Say something!"

Still no answer. Robin found himself tensing up completely, his free hand becoming a tight fist at his side. An aggravated growl tore through his throat as he swung his arm up, ready to strike Slade, ready to make him pay…

…but he stopped. A splinter of reason in his mind stayed his hand. He was reacting exactly how Slade wanted him to… Slade was being quiet to mock him, to irritate him. To get even further under his skin. Robin backed off, watching the villain with wide, vigilant eyes.

"It's not going to work," Robin murmured. A wry grin shot to his face, and he turned, making his way toward the door. "In fact, why don't you just stay that way, stay right there. I could definitely use some peace and—ACK!"

He opened the door, to find Slade standing straight before him, eyes staring unblinkingly down at him. Robin backed away a step, a haunted chill running down his spine.

"…That's not going to work…" he stammered in a small voice, more to himself than to the masked rogue. He composed himself and sidestepped him, watching him intently. But when he turned, there Slade was again, just ahead of him in the hallway.

He's just going to follow me like this… that's fine. I just can't let him bother me… can't let him get to me…

Robin tried to focus entirely on just walking, to not jerk away every time Slade popped up just before him. He simply wound his way around him like any other obstacle, face set with determination. As he reached a crossroads in the hallway, he stopped, looking around, as though lost.

To his right was the lab… To his left was his room…

He twisted his head back and forth, staring down each direction for a long moment before changing to the other. His eyes then trailed down to his hand, opening his grasp enough to see the fluid sloshing around inside the little glass vial. He swallowed, that familiar restlessness coursing through his veins.

He wanted to test it himself. He wanted to test it a hundred times, retesting and retesting with hopes that something would show up… that all this could just end…

But he recognized that overpowering feeling… that line of reasoning… that calling card of his obsession…

He glanced up. Slade was standing right before him in the large hallway, staring down with that cold, steely, emotionless gaze.

He still didn't make a sound.

Robin began to realize… if he had any chance of driving him away… he had to try and let him go…

With far more difficulty than it should have been, he guided himself to the left, and headed for his room. Closing the door in Slade's face, he turned to see him again, beside the chest of drawers Robin was already heading for. Placing the vial in a lockable drawer, he turned to see Slade standing by the corridor of closets heading for the bathroom. Robin moved towards him, but didn't look at him. He paused before the bathroom, turning to look into the floor-length mirror bolted to his closet door, inspecting himself curiously.

He still looked tired, but the injuries from that one day, from the dust, were beginning to vanish. He hadn't really even noticed that the swelling in his eye had gone down, the skin around his mask now simply a bluish purple that would be gone in another day or two. Other bruises were showing signs of healing, scratches scabbed over. His wrist didn't look so swollen.

Slade was watching him over his shoulder, his mask visible in the mirror. Robin couldn't help but grin, looking at that reflection.

"I think it's funny you're so quiet," he said lightly, eyes flashing impishly. He chuckled, and shrugged smugly. "After all, I did tell you to shut your big mouth."

Slade's expression didn't change, but Robin didn't stop smiling. He was feeling a little more confident, a little more in control. His physical wounds were healing. Maybe, next, his mind would heal, too.

Maybe whatever this was, would soon be over…

Suddenly, the room seemed to bank and spin. The sound of glass shattering deafened in his ears. Pain seared over his shoulder, his arms, his side. His back collided with the ground, lying amidst the shattered shards of mirror, gasping for air, grimacing against the piercing, searing pain seizing hold of the entire left side of his body. His arm rested on his face, somehow placed to protect it from the brunt of the attack. Huge fragments of jagged glass stuck out from the skin on his arms and legs. Blood was already soaking into his clothes.

He could sense Slade hovering over him where he lay. He could almost see his furious, blood-lusting expression.

"Okay…" Robin rasped weakly, still struggling to breathe. "I get it… I get it… please… no more…"

No answer. No attack. After a long moment, Robin slowly removed his arm from over his eyes, his body trembling with shock and pain.

But Slade wasn't there. From where Robin lay, he couldn't see Slade anywhere. Robin's eyes focused numbly on the ceiling above for the longest time, as though waiting for Slade to come out and say it was okay for him to move. He never did. With slow, excruciating movements, Robin finally sat himself up, wincing as movement prompted the shards of glass to burrow further into his skin. A few more slivers shoved themselves into his hands and knees as he pressed them to the floor, then grappled at the closet door to get himself all the way onto his feet, the glass crunching beneath his boots.

He paused, hunched over, still fighting for breath as he leaned against the closet door for support. Tears had broken free, dampening his mask as he stared down at the mosaic of broken mirror, his own pale, deadened expression staring back up at him in the bloodied fragments.

He didn't lift his head as he staggered slowly into his bathroom. His movements were stiff, automatic. He wasn't even aware of what he was doing or why. Blood tinted the metal of the faucets of the shower as he found himself twisting them, the nozzle overhead roaring to life with an artificial rainfall. He stepped beneath its downpour before it even had a chance to warm, without shedding a single article of clothing, without shutting the door. Sliding to the floor with a wince, the water soaking through his costume, dripping down his face in rivulets, stinging in his wounds. Leaning back, focusing on the gaps between the tiling. He sat, simply sat, allowing the false rain to beat against him and soak him through to the bone.

His face was blank, eyes empty as he stared at the tile, as though he had forgotten how to feel anything. The confidence he'd briefly felt before, the hope, the anger, the fear, all of it seemed to be swirling around the drain with the blood.

He didn't look into the bathroom, but knew that Slade was there, watching him once more. He didn't care. It didn't matter.

With nothing else to do, Robin began absentmindedly digging the glass shards from his body, with the same vacant interest as someone picking lint off a shirt. The fingertips of his green gloves became stained a disgusting brown, not even noticing the pain anymore as he dug deep to get the shards free. He set them aside, one by one, into the soap dish until it became an overflowing pile of bloody, jagged reflections.

The streaks of red swirling around the drain slowly grew into thick bands before the flowing water became completely stained with blood.

He continued numbly, quietly, as though it was his job, his punishment, to dig and scrounge until every shard was pulled. When he was unable to find anymore, he slumped faintly back against the tiled wall of the shower, the water stampeding over his clothed body, closing in on him, encasing him like a prison.

He waited. Slade continued to watch from the sidelines, his arms crossing. The expression in his eye was impossible to read.

Neither of them spoke. More blood slunk away into the drain.

After what seemed like an eternity, Robin got the feeling that time out was over. He crawled from the shower, his arms and legs feeling like dead weights, his head spinning and dizzy. His soaked costume sloshed around him, his cape pulling on his shoulders like a heavy burden. Blood stained his bathmat as he leaned weakly against the exterior wall of the shower, his arms and legs sprawled out limply before him, head drooping to the side.

Movement caught his attention. His eyes flicked up to the steel-toed boots moving slowly towards him. Legs folded, a dark hunched form crouching into view, golden mask twisting on its neck to meet Robin's gaze.

"I hope you've learned your lesson, Robin…"

Robin didn't answer. Gravity secured a tight grip on him, pulling him over sideways, his wet back squeaking against the ceramic tiling before he landed to rest on the cool floor. He stared blankly before him, watching the water from his costume puddle red on the linoleum, his vision beginning to fade.

Yeah… he'd learned his lesson…

A/N: Someone asked me a few questions concerning Robin and Slade (i.e. "Why does Robin walk around Slade when he knows Slade isn't real?"). I don't want to dive too much into it, but it's all deliberate: how Robin reacts to Slade coincides with his slipping into the irrational world of insanity. A rational Robin would think "Slade isn't real, I don't need to walk around him." But, Robin is losing touch with rationality, with sanity. So... yeah. XD Just in case anyone else is confused, I just wanted to kind of explain that.

I'm gonna be super busy this weekend so updates wont be ohmigodeveryday. XD But, as always, reviews are greatly appreciated and strongly encouraged! :)