Aaaand we're back! Hope you guys all had (a) great holiday(s) and are ready for the zombie apocalypse to start again. There has been a surprising lack of zombie action for some time (and a lack of action). But first, I need to do this...


Chapter 9: Wake


For the first time in countless nights, Robin slept. He knew he slept, based purely on the manner in which he woke.

"Get off me – GET OFF ME!" He growled, struggling against Slade's body, blood pounding through his wrists as Slade's large hands clamped down on them. His body shook under the man's weight, feeling fevered and frozen all at once.

"Are you awake?" Slade asked in a calm, dark tone.

"Yes, now get off!" the teen hissed, still struggling against the man, struggling to decide if he should head-butt the bastard.

"You were having a nightmare," Slade explained calmly.

"No shit - and waking up with you on top of me is such a refreshing change of pace. GET THE FUCK OFF."

Slade, to Robin's relief, slowly loosened his grasp, giving a deadly glare through the darkness before he rolled to the side and allowed the smaller body freedom.

Robin scrambled with the zipper on the tent, growling until Slade, calmly, unzipped the door and allowed him to claw its way out into the cold night air. Once outside, the teen ran to the opposite side of the rooftop, gasping for air as he leaned on the banister.

"Dreamt about your friends, didn't you?" Slade asked, rising from the tent but merely standing like a pillar in the pale light of early morning. He was not the type of man to really care about another person's trauma, but he was certainly familiar with the concept enough to respect it.

"No, I dreamt about rubber ducks. What the fuck do you think?" he growled between angry gasps of air, knees shaking until he finally collapsed to the frost covered rooftop. His breath escaped in white clouds, mixing with the light haze of sweat evaporating from his skin. Slade only watched, studying the teen and reaching his own silent conclusions. "Shit," Robin muttered, trying to calm himself as his head swam wildly with invasive, terrifying thoughts. Memories. "Shit, shit, shit…"

"You're going into shock," the villain finally spoke, moving closer and ignoring the glare from the teen as he held up his palm, commanding the man to stay back.

The black brows knit together. "I'm fine," he growled between frantic breaths. "Just… my heart won't slow down."

"Look at me," Slade instructed, his voice low and almost gentle if not for the dark edge that never truly left his tone. "Your body is reliving what happened… I can tell that you're trying your damnedest not to remember, but that won't help you now. You have to mentally take in what happened. Ignoring the pain won't change the facts. Your friends are gone."

"Fuck you," Robin shuddered, "I know that. I know they're gone."

"Tell me what happened."

"You… read the notes… You know." Robin sneered.

"Say it."

Robin shook his head from side-to-side, his eyes tightly closed as a chilled sweat ran down his forehead.

"Say it." Slade commanded once again, hands grasping the teen's shoulders. His brow rose in surprise when instead of swearing or breaking into tears, the teen simply let out an angry hiss and swung his fists. The man dodged, causing the teen to miss by inches and teeter off balance. Slade did not waste the opportunity. He curled his hand behind the teen's neck and dragged him to the ground, swinging his leg over the smaller torso and pinning the smaller body to the ground.

Robin let out a terrified growl, struggling wildly against the ground as Slade kept a firm grip over the back of his neck – at least until Robin's feet hooked under the villain's chin and pulled back. Rather than risk breaking the teen's neck, Slade begrudgingly let himself be thrown backwards. He turned quickly as he hit the ground, letting his roll guide him into a ready attack form as the teen lunged forward.

"You did this? Didn't you?! Was this all in your plan, Slade?" Robin asked mockingly, the pain and terror evident in his voice. "Kill them off? Make them think it was to save them? How are you immune? HOW?"

"You're delusional," Slade growled at the teen, calculating the movements and preparing to restrain him once again. One glance in the hero's eyes made it clear that his words were not to reach their target. The boy was mad with rage and pain and fear. Slade dared a smirk, reminded fondly of the old days where they battled on rooftops for different reasons. Robin never listened to him then, either.

The hero was a better fighter in the dead world, but physically weaker. It was easy enough for Slade to put him in another hold, slamming the smaller back into his chest and holding both of the teen's arms in one of his. Robin struggled and spat cursing as he kicked at the man's shins and tried to wiggle free. Slade merely moved each leg in time with the kicks, countering the young man's attacks as he dragged him several feet to their supplies and reach into a secret pocket that he had not divulged to the younger man.

"This might sting," he murmured, biting the cap off of a syringe before jamming it into the teen's leg.

Robin let out a pained scream, jarring against the man repeatedly as the burning liquid rushed through his veins, numbing them and causing his arms and legs to feel infinitely heavier than they actually were. His screams died to whimpers as his body slackened.

Slade gently turned the weakening body in his arms, knowing that Robin would be somewhat conscious for slightly longer than his body was able to move.

"The paralysis is temporary. I've hit you with a heavy sedative." he explained calmly, though unsure of why he bothered. "You'll wake up with a hell of a hangover, but you'll be fine. I have four more of these, and I will not hesitate to use them if you attack me again. The deal was to bring you back alive if weren't already dead, and I can't fail."

Robin's vision blurred with tears and an uneasy haze that was pulsing through his body and his mind. He grit his teeth, fighting the urge to sleep as his eyelids fluttered and his head lulled to the side. He could faintly hear – not feel - Slade lifting his body and carrying him away.

"I wish they'd killed me instead," Robin heard a voice whisper in the darkness.

Slade frowned down at the hero as he finally drifted into an unreachable void, gifted with a temporary answer to his wish. Survival was an instinct and a curse, and few men knew that better than him. Robin, apparently, felt the same.

It was too dangerous to simply leave the teen exposed until he came to, and that would certainly be awhile. He knelt down before the tent and slowly cradled the limp body inside. There was little doubt in Slade's mind that the hero would work through his madness in time; Robin was made of tougher things then the memories that haunted him. But they lived in a world that was quick and decisive… If the teen couldn't keep it together when it came time to move, his chances of survival were slim...


Confession time: I struggled with Robin in this chapter. I feel like I've kind of overused the "I GO CRAZY AT MINIMAL PROVOCATION" characterization with him (*Cough* Sladomasochism *Cough*). He was kind of a hot-head in the show - particularly with Slade - but not to the level I seem to push him.
But, basically, I needed him to be unconscious for a little bit while I stir the plot (Puns! Yay!), so maybe you'll forgive me this time.

See you next week!