A/N: Number ten… three more to go, I think… I'm getting there… Can't believe its ten chapters! I thought "Touch" was long! Well, I hope you like it, and I hope you review…
Disclaimer: I do not own the Teen Titans… if you do, just shut up.
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Chapter ten: Pity
He woke up on a floor that was covered by a truly horrendous wall-to-wall carpet in beige, brown and green. Noticing the work of an insane interior decorator, wasn't really a top priority for Robin at the moment, though, as he realized that he couldn't move. He was on his side, bound hands and feet. He tried to straighten his legs but discovered that his wrist and ankles also had been attached to each other with a short rope. He would be able to kneel, but not stand, like this. The rope was more of a thin cord, maybe nylon, and it cut into his flesh for every time he tried to twist his hands and feet. He could feel that the person who hade bound him wasn't an expert, but what he lacked in skill he had made up for with enthusiasm. Robin couldn't move.
"Don't try to free yourself, it won't work, ok?"
Robin looked around, finally seeing his captor for the first time. The man had sounded slightly worried and when Robin laid eyes on him, he was amazed at how nondescript the man looked. He was on the taller side, thin and lanky, seemed to be around 45 with thinning hair and watery blue eyes. He looks like a clerk… Nervous eyes. Nervous and… angry?
"Who- who are you?"
"It doesn't matter… you are here because of Slade."
Shit…
"What do you want?" Robin growled.
"Oh. Oh… I see…" The man seemed even more anxious now. "You think that maybe I am going to torture you for information about Slade?"
"You're not?"
"No. I already know everything about Deathstroke the Terminator. … I… I'm sorry but I'm going to have to kill you."
"What?!" Robin struggled and managed to get to his knees. "What do you mean? Why?!"
The anger in the man's eyes suddenly seemed to blaze.
"It's not your business!"
Robin only gaped at that. Not his business? He was the one who was going to die here, right?
He suddenly realised he had to keep the man talking, had to buy time. He remembered something he had seen on TV a while back… was it another Oprah-show? Yeah, he was pretty sure it was… Well. This show might be useful… It had dealt with what to do in an assault situation, he remembered vaguely. 'Never let yourself be taken to another location' one advice had been. Well. He looked around. Pretty much screwed that up. He also remembered about talking to the person, telling them about yourself, making it harder for them to go through with, or continue, the attack. It was worth a shot. It would mean telling the man about his identity, but if it meant not dying…
"My name's Robin" he started. "I'm the leader of the Teen Titans. Do you know who we are?" The man walked over to him and got down on one knee in front of him, meeting his stare.
"Nice try boy, but it is no use. I know all about you and your team. You do some good work. You should be proud. But this isn't about you being a hero. It's about you being Slade's lover."
Robin's eyes widened.
"How… how did you…?"
"I have been watching Slade, and later you, for some time now."
Robin looked into those eyes, with their conflicting feelings, and asked in a low voice:
"What did Slade do to you?"
The man got to his feet, pacing and muttering something to himself.
"I deserve to know…" Robin urged the man cautiously, still in that low voice. "If I am going to die for something he did… I want to know what it was."
"He killed Carl!" the man suddenly shrieked into the air, turning to glare at Robin, as if he was supposed to know who this Carl-person was.
"Carl… he was… family?" Robin asked carefully, as his stomach started to knot itself together. He was in so much trouble right now…
"He was my husband!" the man gave him a fierce look as if daring Robin to say anything about the subject.
"I'm sorry." Robin said. "I truly am… but if you have proof, why not go to the authorities?" He knew it was a stupid, naïve, suggestion and so did the man, who barked out a short sorrow-laced laughter.
"No. No. You know how that will end up. They will never catch Slade. But he killed my lover. And I will kill his."
"Have you seen my back?" Robin growled "Slade did this to me, does it look like he loves me!?"
"That looks like a punishment. Slade wouldn't bother to punish you if he didn't care."
He came closer again. "You may scream if you like. No one will hear you here anyway. No one who cares. Carl died slowly. So will you. Slade tied him, just like this, and beat him to death. I think he wanted information, but for you… there are no questions."
Robin was still staring at the man in disbelief when the first kick hit.
The first couple of punches and kicks weren't that bad. They were slow, hesitant, and Robin was even able to dodge a few. Managing this, though, seemed to aggravate the man to attack harder, so Robin soon only focused on tensing his muscles, preparing for the hits and rolling with them. He had discovered that the man had let him keep his belt on, but why not? Robin couldn't reach it. He regretted throwing his knife away. It would be nice to have a weapon, even if he couldn't get at it in the moment. Every time the man hit his back Robin couldn't withhold a howl of pain. This encouraged the man, and soon the boy was bleeding profoundly from welts that had split open. The shirt was already in tatters from Slade's treatment, and the only thing soaking up the blood was the carpet beneath him. His world started to revolve around pain again, and Robin fought to stay conscious… if he couldn't manage that, he didn't think he was ever going to wake up. Anger fluttered trough his mind again. He wasn't going to die like this! Killed by that insignificant little WIMP of an office-rat! He growled, keeping himself upright on his knees.
Concentrating on the carpet, he tried to focus on describing its color and pattern to himself. After a while the descriptions slightly changed and he stopped when the only words he could come up with was 'red' and 'sticky'.
The man tried to talk to him, kept telling Robin why he had to die, but the boy didn't care anymore. The man was clearly driven insane by grief, and there was no chance of reasoning with him.
Robin knew nobody would miss him yet. Neither Slade, nor his team, expected him until tomorrow. And then it would be too late. If he could only reach Slade's communicator… Robin thought he could feel its weight in one of the right pockets of his belt… but it was no use. There was no way he could get his hands free. Then Robin realised that he might not have to. If the communicator was broken Slade might be able follow its trail. If he even saw it. If he cared. How to break it, though? There was only one way. Robin lifted his head, saw the kick coming and gritted his teeth. This was it. If this didn't work he would still be down, with no way to get up again. He threw himself to the left, making the kick connect with his right side. It missed. Not his side, the foot buried itself in his ribs making them crunch painfully, but it missed the belt. Robin cried out in pain and frustration. He was on his stomach now, and he knew he was as good as dead. His torturer seemed to like the idea of kicking his ribs in, though, and continued aiming for the boy's side. The next kick met its mark. There was a cracking sound, which Robin really hoped was the communicator. Even the man heard it and bent down to investigate. He opened the belt pockets until he found the slim case, now with a clearly visible hairline crack across it. Is that enough? Robin wondered anxiously.
"What is this?" The man pushed Robin onto his side and waved the gadget in front of his face.
"… communicator…" Robin gasped "…broken… useless…" He was beginning to feel dizzy from the loss of blood.
"Really….? Maybe it's rigged? Maybe Slade is on his way right now, to rescue his little boy-toy, hm? Maybe we need to finish this faster…" Robin's eyes widened as the man pulled out a baseball bat from under the bed. Smiling cruelly down on the defenceless boy he raised the weapon. Robin was about to close his eyes and wait for the final blow when the man hesitated.
"Maybe… maybe I should make him watch?" the man was quiet for a while. "He'll kill me afterwards. He'll kill me." He looked down on Robin again. "But he won't forget. It would haunt him." He walked around the room, muttering to himself, swinging the bat in the air. "I can't live without Carl, anyway…" He put down the bat, to Robin's huge relief, but then reached into a bag and pulled out a knife. Robin tried to edge away, not being able to take his eyes of the cold, sharp, steel blade. The crazy man reached him in a few steps, pulling him up to his knees again.
"Wonder how it feels to cut someone. Do you know?" He asked the boy, letting the knife-edge lightly stroke Robin's chest and arms. As the boy didn't respond he let the edge bite in slightly, dragging it across the shoulder. Robin hissed in pain as blood sprung up in the shallow gash. Fascinated with this new game, the man removed the black tatters that used to be Robin's shirt and continued to trace the blade across the young body. Now and again he would let the blade cut the skin. He didn't seem to grow tired of the entertainment and Robin started to tremble, gasping in the added pain.
"Release him"
Robin had never been so happy to hear Slade's voice.
For once, his captor was quick, though, as he threw himself behind Robin, yanked the boy's head back by his hair and pressed the knife against his throat.
"No closer, Deathstroke, or you'll lose your boyfriend!" Neither Robin, nor the insane man knew it, but this situation very much reminded Slade of a very painful memory. His son had been badly hurt in a similar way. That time he had been to slow to stop it from happening. Slade never made the same mistakes twice.
But for now Slade actually seemed to hesitate, tilting his head to one side, studying the man.
"Who are you?"
"You killed Carl!"
"Who?"
"Carl! He was my life partner! You beat him to death!"
"That doesn't narrow it down as much as you would think…"
Robin closed his eyes. No, Slade, please don't taunt him!
"New York. Two years ago! You don't remember?! How can you not remember…? Carl, he-" the man's voice almost broke and Robin would maybe have felt sorry for him, if he hadn't pressed down on the blade at that moment. A thin stream of blood started to roll down his neck.
Slade moved like a viper. Robin slumped forward as the two men crashed together. When the boy had managed to turn around Slade was holding his torturer by the neck. The crazy man still had his knife though. Making a strangled noise, like a desperate laugh, he plunged the knife into Slade's shoulder. Slade didn't even flinch. The man screamed in frustration and managed to pull the blade out again. This time he slammed it into Slade's chest. Slade only tightened his grip around the man's throat. Robin stared as the man once again tried to pull the knife out. Maybe his grip was getting weaker or maybe the blade had lodged itself in bone, either way he didn't succeed. Slade raised his other hand, gripped the hilt and pulled the knife out of his own chest. He threw it down on the floor, his eye never leaving the now terrified face of the man he held.
"What… what are you?" the man managed to stammer. Robin wondered the same thing.
"Deathstroke" Slade simply said. "So… tell me again what you were doing to my young friend."
"I… I… kill him. Only fair… Carl…!"
"Ahhh… yes… Carl… I think I remember him now. Pharmacist?"
"Yes. Yes!"
"I remember he helped the mafia with some special prescriptions. Not everyone liked that.."
"He... didn't..."
"Slade!" Robin's faint voice caught the assassin's attention.
"Yes, Robin?" He turned his head towards the boy.
"Don't… don't..."
"Kill him? Sorry Robin, this man is going to die shortly."
"Don't… mock him…"
Slade looked at the boy for a long time. "You have no problems with me killing him, as long as I don't harass him?" he asked, laughter evident in his voice. He eased his grip on the man's throat a little, not wanting him to die until he had found out where this was going.
Robin flinched. He hadn't meant it like that. Looking at the struggling man he wanted to beg for his life, he really wanted to. Then the man spoke again.
"I knew I should have smashed your little whore's brains in when I had the chance." The look he was giving Robin was one of pure disgust and hate.
Robin's eyes shifted back to Slade. The boy shook his head.
"I agree with Robin. You have done enough damage." Slade growled and started to close his fist tighter.
It was a slow death. Robin, still kneeling on the floor, his hands and legs bound tightly, just watched. There wasn't any emotion right now. He was too tired and beaten to feel anything, beyond his own pain.
"You will never hurt him again." Slade hissed.
There was a crack. The man's body hung limply in Slade's grip before it was tossed aside on the floor.
Slade picked up the bloody knife and cut Robin's bonds. The boy slumped forward and cried out in pain as bloods started rushing back into his hands and feet and he could move his sore body again. Being realised hurt almost as bad as the torture. Slade was there, gently lifting him off the ground. Robin moaned in pain again as he was lifted, feeling pressure on his back and ribs, but there was no other way.
As Slade carried him out, Robin looked back into the room one more time. Seeing the cut cords, the blood-soaked carpet and the still form of… of…
I never even knew his name…
He must have blacked out, because the next thing he remembered was being carried into Titans Tower.
He heard the screams and curses of his friends, but only vaguely.
"You. Fucking. Bastard!" Cy's voice. "What did you do to him?!"
"I'm not responsible for this." Robin heard Slade reply. "Well, not all of it, anyway."
"Tell us what happened, and maybe we will let you leave this place alive!" Beast Boy snarled.
Robin smiled a little. BB couldn't kill anyone… he didn't have it in him…
Not like you do…
Maybe he passed out again. The next thing he felt was being carefully put on to a hard surface. He recognised the smell of the sick-bay.
"I need you to treat his wounds. I don't have this kind of medical equipment at my base. He has lost a lot of blood."
"Get your filthy hands away from him, Slade!" Raven growled.
"Careful, all of you. Be grateful that I took him back to you… for now… I'll expect a full medical report in two hours." With that he stalked out of the room. Robin's head turned slightly after him, but then darkness claimed him once again.
They cleaned his body, wrapped up the cracked ribs and stitched the deeper cuts. A blood transfusion was necessary, but after that, the only thing they could do was to closely monitoring him for any signs of internal bleeding.
Slade called as the two hours were up, and reluctantly got his report. The man ordered them to give him regular updates every other hour and call him if anything changed. For better or for worse. Cy swore as they were forced to do this, but at least it kept the man away. For now. He had simply walked into the tower with Robin in his arms! No alarms, no signals, nothing had been triggered. And he had left the same way. How did he do that?! It made Cyborg terrified as he, at last, realized how vulnerable they really were against Slade.
Raven stayed by Robin's side, using what little healing power she had to take away the pain. The pain that was still evident on the boy's face even if he was unconscious at the moment. She tried to keep him levitated above the bed as this eased his agony, but it took a lot of her strength to do so. There wasn't any comfortable position they could put him in, though. He was simply too bruised all over.
Over the next twenty-four hours Robin drifted in and out of consciousness. One of his friends was always by his side. He wasn't in much pain now, due to some very powerful painkillers, and, slowly, he started to return to the world. He had been incredible lucky as no bones were broken. Apart from few cracked ribs the loss of blood had been the most serious problem. As he was told this, he had to grin a bit at how he had managed to be beaten close to death, without actually getting seriously hurt. His team didn't think it was funny, though.
On the next day he managed to walk around for a bit, going to the bathroom by himself.
He had tried to tell the team what had happened since he had left them last time. They were appalled, though Cyborg slightly intrigued, by the lifelike robot, and hissed in hate when Robin finally had to confess to where he had got those ridges on his back.
"He beat you?"
"He punished me…"
"What's the bloody difference? God, Robin…"
There IS a big difference… Robin thought grimly. He might not have thought so before, but the punishment was a measured penalty for breaking a rule he was very well aware off. What the other man put him through, though…
His team was horrified when hearing about this, as Robin confirmed what Slade already told them… But it was so much easier for them to focus their hate on Slade, then some unknown man, who also happened to be dead. He was beyond punishment. Slade wasn't.
Robin noticed how the event's fuelled his team's effort to find out about the numbers on the note, even further. Even Beast Boy stayed up late, going through newspapers and books and combing the internet for any clues. It was hard, though. Finding out what has happened, that is pretty easy, but finding out what will? And that information was only useful if the numbers were a date. Robin offered to help but was refused. His team seemed to think that he would heal quicker if he had nothing at all to do.
Slade didn't share the team's idea and sent Robin small surveillance-assignments. Those came via email several times a day and soon Robin found himself looking forward to them… there wasn't anything else to do, after all, and he got to use his head. As the pain slowly died away to a mere throb, more like a background noise than pain, Robin found he could move more freely, and four days after the assault he got properly dressed. After a very long shower, of course. He didn't wear his uniform, as that would have been too tight. Instead he found some loose-fitting sweatpants, and, ignoring what his friends might say; he pulled on Slade's T-shirt. It was the first one he had worn and slept in the night after he came back to the tower… that seemed such a long time ago now. For some reason he had kept it, putting it in among the rest of his clothes. Now he was very glad for the big shirt.
As he, slightly limping, came into the kitchen Starfire immediately noticed what he was wearing.
"Robin! Is that not…?"
"Dude! That's Slade's shirt!" BB observed.
"It's roomy." Robin defended himself. "I can't wear anything that chafes at my back!"
"Uhh… I might have some of my old shirt's left somewhere…" Cy offered.
"This is just fine!" Robin snarled "Don't be so childish, guys, all right? Where's Raven?" he added, to try and steer the conversation away from his choice of clothes.
"Meditating." Beast Boy sighed.
"Oh."
Robin felt a pang of guilt. Raven had kept him floating in the air for most of a day and a night, letting the painkillers start to do their work. It had drained her. The smile he got when he thanked her had told him, that if she had to, she would do it again, though.
"Is there anything to eat?" Robin asked, stirring up quite a frenzy of activity. He was offered a slice of cold pizza, a plate of tofu ice cream and… well… something purple… Taking the safest route he opted for the pizza.
"Has Slade called yet?" he wanted to know. He had been aware that the man had checked up on him regularly, but, until now, his friends had managed to keep him away.
"He's about to. You can set a clock by that man." Cyborg sighed.
One minute later, on the dot, the screen came to life.
"Robin. You are up. How are you feeling?"
"Sore."
"Can you walk?"
"Yes."
"Then come."
The screen want blank.
To be continued…
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A/N: THIS is how I treat OC's…. Cannon fodder, as I have mentioned before… ;o) I felt Slade needed something to mess with his plan, though, since he seems to control pretty much everything else… Is there a difference between a punishment and a beating…? I think that maybe, if your feeling was messed up enough, you might see it that way… can you see that logic? Robin seems to… Well he's not wearing a tinfoil hat and a straight-jacket yet… (Damn! I gave away the ending!). Stay with him. Hold his hand. I'm too busy.