School for Fools

Disclaimer: I do not own anything in relation to the Teen Titans.
Musical Inspiration: Forgiven – Within Temptation / Breaking the Habit – Linkin Park
A/n: Hey all. So this week is going to be the shits for me. I just got over the cold that has been going around and now I'm behind, not to mention needing to write a Greek and a Latin test soon and a midterm on ancient art and a 28 hour work week. Woopie. But writing is my passion so I have to find time for it! Plus it helps me relax. So I hope you enjoy, I'm going to make up for the last one for being so short. Love you all! Enjoy! Xo.

Chapter 10 – Dreamless

He wasn't sure how long he had been roped to the chair that should have broken a long time ago, but it was a fact that the ropes themselves were being bound to his flesh in a most intimate manor. The sounds of dripping and bodiless noises had become like best friends to Robin; something he could always count on, never betraying their silent vow of dependency. It was these unnerving sounds that gave him comfort in knowing he was still, in fact, alive. But there was that twang of annoyance to the drip, drip, drip of the leaking water pipes and the blast of airs and scurrying of feet; something that made Robin want to silence them all for good. Perhaps the silence would finally drive him mad.

It was all he could take to sit alone with the dependent friends and think of the mistake he had so blindly made and why he had made it. Slade was that mistake. He thought he must have been dreaming when he had walked into the classroom for the first time, sparking like some anime character that all the school girls loved. He must have imagined the courtship that occurred between them, the rush that whisked him into a whirlwind, and then dropped a house on him. Who would trust a man who dressed as if he held the world in his hands? Who would trust a man who had blazing white hair that was long enough to be a pirate's hair-cut of choice, and had an eye-path for that matter? He certainly never appeared to be anything proper, to what a faculty wise school was concerned. He did, clearly.

Slade came to visit him sometimes; mostly to tell him he had yet heard a respond from his father, or to have his way with him. And dread it as he might, Robin could not come to classify himself as being molested by a mad-man. Noting ever told him to stop. Nothing ever warned him of danger in his chest, but instead, fluttered to a high when he heard the very human sounds of footsteps drawing near. Conceivably, he enjoyed this. He liked to have Slade all to himself. He liked being able to be touched by him that no normal couple would have coupled. He liked the abuse.

Maybe it was Stockholm syndrome. Maybe he had fallen for his captor. But that couldn't be it. He did hate him, but hate as he might he didn't loath the man. He still willed, every moment, to see his face again, to hear his ragged breathing, to feel his skin on his. That's what he really loved. Something in that touch he felt the security he felt before all this happened and he dreamed he would wake-up suddenly and have Slade sooth him with a loving kiss.

But that kiss never came. There was never nothing soft or caring about the way they 'made love' now. It was always coarse and rough and when Slade wanted it. But Robin didn't care. He simply wouldn't allow himself to be distraught. Not about this. And not in front of him.

There were, though, times where they did not lay together, but when Slade raked him for being unable to attain his father's attention. The scars were slowly beginning to form across his skin from the lacerations and bruises stood out on his skin so it would have appeared he were more Dalmatian then human. But wasn't that just what he was? A damned dog that cowered beneath the owner's boot, and simply just wanting to love unconditionally. He couldn't conjure his father's affections and Slade would not have him, aside from hunger. He was nothing but a drink to be sipped from, upon the owner's discretion of course, and of no will of his own. He could do nothing to control any of this. And he sank deeper into the wooden frame of his captor.

A door creaked open somewhere in the background. Footsteps rang out true on the pavement, echoing deep into his ears. It awoke him, his senses aroused by the sound of additional life. He sat up almost immediately. Slade appeared before him, looking hazard and slightly drunk. His hair was free from its bind, streaking across his face in a wild manor. His were clothes askew and his black dress shirt unbuttoned to his navel.

"Robin." He whispered, and the boy almost didn't hear it. Then the man dropped something, a bottle, for it smashed against the ground. "Robin." The man kneeled before the boy, his eye unable to focus on the other before him. Robin simply just starred. He was scared, that was an understatement. But he let the man run his course. Whisky was strong on his breath and his clothes. Maybe he would leave; maybe he would just go away.

But he kissed him. A sorrowful sloppy thing that brought the world around them crashing down. Robin's mind reeled with questions that echoed that ones he had the first time they kissed. And how he had missed this. He pushed into the kiss.

"Robin, you bastard, letting me take you like this."

Robin said nothing; he held his breath as the man swayed before him, so close he could almost feel himself getting drunk off his breath.

"Don't you ever wonder what your father would think if he knew you fucked a bad guy?" His laugh was gruff, tired and sore. "Don't you ever wonder what the Teen Titans would think of their leader?"

"What?" It was the first time Robin had spoken since Slade took him in the darkness for the initial time. His voice sounded different to him somehow, laced with despair and death. "The who?"

"Oh, precious little bird. Don't play dumb with me. You know especially who I am talking about." He raised his head to look at Robin fully. His face looked like it was falling away in strips of bandages, like a mummy. A glowing eye stood out from behind his eye-path, a beacon in the night. A skull like face stood before him, glaring him down as a hunter would its hunted. "You know. You know."

Robin's eyes bolted open and it was all he could do not to scream out loud. His chest heaved and tightened as if he had just run a marathon. The pain in his lungs was so unbearable he toppled over himself, trying to suppress the pain back into the depths. What was that? A Dream? Was it reality? That line had been hazed a long time ago and Robin could no long distinguish what was real. But that couldn't happen to someone's face like that. And if it had, where was the evidence that he had been there to visit him. He dreamt it. He must have.

Once the ach had cooled, he sat back and went over it. Slade had said something in his dream to him, something about being a leader, but it had escaped him. All he could remember now was the fact that he had been surprised by what the man had said.

"Robin?"

He looked up, in the direction of the voice, but all he saw were the disgusting piping and a concrete ceiling. Had it happened? Had he finally lost his mind? The voice was familiar, but not. Like he had heard it in a previous life, or a dream, and was now experiencing déjà vu. But it was weird how it sounded like it was coming from right above him. But that was impossible, unless someone was flying above his head; there was no way someone could hide up there.

"We will free you, Robin. Just wait."

Again, he searched around for the voice but to no avail. What was going on here? He must have finally lost his mind, and after praying for so long that he would he wasn't so sure this is what he wanted.

Maybe he was still asleep.

A/n: Well, I hope that sates some watering mouths. I think I'm going to end it soon, like within the next chapter or two. It's all coming up so fast. Oh and I had another idea . . . But I've just forgotten it. OH REMEMBERED! Gotta write this shit down . . . :P Tata for now! Xo.