He leapt out of bed with far more vigor than he felt. It was a gut reaction now, and while he was impressed with himself for it, he cursed his programmed body as he immediately fell out of bed and began to sprint toward the common area. After about a week of dead silence, the wail was far more jarring and intense than ever before. It almost made him nauseous.

The doors flung open before him.

"Robin, report," he barked as he jogged down the steps. "What's the trouble?"

Beast Boy's fingers were flying over the computer keys, bringing the locator on the massive screen right over a bank on Fourth Street before it began to blink. His head tilted to one side, and Robin could see his confused expression in the reflection of the window. Cyborg, too, was rubbing his chin.

"Red X is robbing the Fourth Bank," his voice was thick but quiet as he pondered. "This doesn't make sense."

"It doesn't have to," Robin was suddenly ravenous for a fight. Red X had brought her into trouble in the first place. He felt an unspoken score to settle. "Let's move."

"Hey, dawg, you wanna kick his butt and I feel you," Cyborg stepped toward Robin as he made a move toward the door. "But this is definitely shady, you gotta feel that too. And y'all know I'm all for full-frontal assaults but should we be goin' in blazing like this?—"

"We don't have a choice," Robin continued to ascend the stairs without turning around. "We can ask questions once we've got him."

Starfire and Raven had joined the powwow, and the four were hot on his tail as he made his way toward the door. He felt the heat of his anger radiating in his palms and he wanted to punch something, he wanted to break something, preferably the smug face of Red X—

The doors split apart and there stood Bailey, changed from her white suit into short cotton shorts and a black tank top. He remembered stuffing them into the drawers of her dresser. Even the Titans had kick-around clothes, street clothes, formal attire, and sleepwear; most of them just generally chose to remain in their costumes. It was simply more efficient. There was never any fuss with changing and they could just go when the alarm sounded. But Bailey was not a Titan, and she was very careful to avoid giving off the wrong idea.

He stopped dead in his tracks and immediately realized the problems here.

If he left her here alone, she could escape or Slade could lay siege to the Tower. If he brought her with them, it would anger the team or Slade could snag her or she could potentially thwart their battle efforts.

The long night that had passed into this morning was still crusty in her bleary eyes, and her pretty dark blonde hair was wrapped around itself in a messy bun at the nape of her neck. She wasn't ready for battle. There was no way she could come with them. And not only did he refuse to put her at risk of Slade nabbing her while the Titans were distracted, he was not completely sure how much he trusted her yet.

This was quite the pickle he'd created himself.

With angry resignation, Robin's shoulders fell and he sighed. "You guys go. I'm going to stay here."

There was an icy quiet as everyone's jaws dropped.

"Dude…why?" Beast Boy was staring at the back of his spikey head, his disgust with the girl in front of them completely obliterated with this sudden forfeiture. The only time Robin had ever backed out of a mission was when his arm was shattered. He seemed as healthy as always, standing tall (well, as tall as he could) and confident. And Beast Boy had never really liked it when Robin was MIA; Cyborg tended to step up, and while he was a natural and good leader, there was a slight uncomfortable tug as his best friend screamed out directions. It was easy for him to follow Robin. He had been the leader forever and always, and he wasn't particularly close to him, though he cared for him just like the others. It just felt…weird to be ordered around by Cyborg.

Robin sighed again, longer and harder than the first, and moved to stand behind the criminal. He set a hand at her back to guide her into the living area. "I can't leave her alone."

"Are you kidding me?!" Beast Boy exploded. "Is this some kind of sick joke?"

Starfire looked completely ashen, but Raven's face was smooth as ever, and Cyborg even looked to be on the same page. He had quickly looked her over but his lips curled into a line, recognizing the problems. What a decision for Robin to have to make. This was why he was the leader; while Cyborg was grateful for not needing to make this kind of choice, Robin accepted the responsibility without a word.

"What are you doing?" Bailey hissed over her shoulder. Her legs moved her forward against her better judgment; she wanted to stay planted at the doorway, or better yet melt into the floor. This wasn't happening. He wasn't doing this. He wasn't being this stupid.

But he didn't say anything, choosing instead to merely lead her to the couch. With a lump in her throat, she watched as he threw himself into the cushions and kicked his feet up onto the coffee table. She was not nearly as casual and graceful as he, her knees jerky and hesitant and embarrassed as she lowered herself beside him. A wide berth was left between her side and his. She couldn't even smell him.

"You cannot be serious!" Beast Boy screamed and leapt over the back of the couch. He landed on the coffee table like the nimble animal he was. "Are you forgetting who your team is?! What kind of leader are you?!"

Bailey's eyes shot wide open and she wanted to die. She truly wanted to die. He was going right for the jugular, going straight for the heart, and she felt hers begin to slam wildly but all she could do was stare at her lap because he was right, he was so right, and her hairline grew dewy.

How Robin calmly pulled his feet from the table, rested his elbows on his knees, and steepled his fingers, she'd never know. He had never looked so cool, especially with a temper like his, and she wondered how much he blustered inside. She marveled at how he didn't even flinch, because she was about ready to seep into the cracks of the sofa and slither away down the drain into the sewer system, where she belonged.

"That's my decision," he said quietly, and for a moment she was in utter awe at him but then she noticed that he was staring with a narrowed mask at his knees and couldn't even meet Beast Boy's eyes. And if he could, he would see the complete revulsion that he knew was pouring over his spiky hair like God's tears but he simply couldn't bring himself to look up. His knees, however sweaty and weak, were safer to stare at because he wouldn't have to look his decision in the face. There was no way he could even get mad at the changeling because he was right, he was so right and he hated himself more than anyone on the team could.

He was a rotten leader.

There was a splitting second of echoing silence.

"Whatever," Beast Boy scoffed. He sounded so repulsed, so absolutely done with this bullshit that Bailey winced and folded herself further into her torso; she tucked her knees tight and wrapped her arms around her ribs. Maybe if she folded herself tightly enough, she'd disappear into the air with a small pop.

But Robin stayed smooth as Beast Boy stepped from his perch and stomped around to the rest of his team. "Call us when you're ready to do your job."

She peeked over her shoulder, and the backs of the Titans as they ran out the doors were almost as expressive as their faces, with Beast Boy's being tight and angry and Raven's being composed and Cyborg's shoulders slightly stooped and Starfire's—

She had chosen the exact moment to peep over the back of the couch that Starfire had taken to pass a sweeping glance at Robin, her eyes molten emerald and so infinitely mournful and worried that Bailey truly wanted to suffocate her in a hug. She had never disliked Starfire. They were merely enemies in battle, nothing more and nothing less, but she had never once felt sincere malice in her heart for her, not even when it was known that Robin and her were slated for a relationship.

She'd never hated the Titans. She was just…doing her job.

And then the alien gaze swung to her. The deluge of ripping hatred, the electric current of fiery venom that poisoned her stare threatened to draw what little soul Bailey could possibly have from every pore of her skin bit by bit for maximum agony. Her heart shuddered in her chest, for this was not the battle field, this was life and she had an alien staring her dead in the face silently screaming I want to murder you.

But with that, the redhead was gone, and Bailey was left to choke on the noxious fumes she'd left while Robin choked on his decision.

It was very quiet.

Bailey took in the curve of his taut jaw, his bent neck, and his narrowed mask. "Why did you do that?"

He was angry and frustrated, she could tell. It was written all over his face in the small lines that creased his skin as he let his expression change for just a beat. He was doing his best to hold it in, because even Robin knew that when he was upset he lashed out, and he wasn't the most emotionally adept person on the planet and for whatever mental excellence he possessed, he lacked in temper control, and so she wasn't surprised when he almost snarled, "Because I don't trust you."

She looked down at her lap. Well, that was good to know. She wouldn't trust herself either. It hadn't been long—a week and a half, two weeks maximum—and though they were breaching some sort of awkward thing, she had yet to completely trust him too and she was okay with this. She felt the potential though. Every time her eyes met his face, she had an overwhelming urge to give him everything, and she felt that this was a good place to start. She felt like she could trust him if she wanted to. She felt that she could trust him very deeply.

Time just had yet to be on their side.

He sighed harshly and she watched as he immediately regretted what he said, and it looked like the building blocks of an apology were starting to build on his lips but Robin never apologized. So all that came from his mouth was, "I…I didn't mean…"

"No, it's okay," she interrupted with a small smile. "I understand. Really, I do." And she did. Really, she did. It only stung a little. Her shoulders pulled up and then fell in a shrug as she admitted softly, "I wouldn't trust me either."

It was quiet as Bailey listened to his silent war. He couldn't look up at her. She didn't try to make him. Out of the corner of her eye, she watched his fists clench around each other to an erratic beat, probably the tempo of the rapid-fire insults he was most likely berating himself with inside his own head. His shoulders looked perfectly huggable, his back perfectly rub-able, his cheek perfectly kissable and she longed to comfort him but she was not ignorant. She knew damn well that any attempt at soothing would earn her his recoil at the least.

But she didn't need to invade his space; he stood quickly anyway, tossing a black rectangle at her face—

"Watch what you want," Robin's voice was so soft, so exasperated with himself and his situation, but she heard no anger and so she let her big brown eyes watch him as he glided around the sofa, up the stairs, through the doors. A resigned peace ensued, shaken occasionally by the rumbling of the freezer spitting out ice in the kitchen area.

She was almost completely alone in Titan's Tower. What should she do?

She inspected the remote control in her hand. The red button in the top left hand corner had the POWER symbol in the center of it, and she jammed it with her thumb as she glanced at the clock. It was already 10 o'clock AM and the sun was screaming through the huge windows. It was wounding her soul. She was so tired.

The TV stayed on channel 2 as she flicked through the program labels on the bottom half of the screen. Game shows, soap operas, and Spanish channels hit her like gnats as she registered varying levels of "I don't care." Slade didn't have a TV. This was a sweet, sweet relic from a very long time ago, and the mindless chatter of people she didn't know in places she would never see in the heightened, perfect accuracy that could only come from television did wonders for her frayed mind. Her blood was beginning to warm again, from her toes to her fingers, as she slid into a slight dip of relaxation.

The title Criminal Minds made her chuckle. What did anyone know about the criminal mind? Hopefully something new, because she didn't understand her own damn brain. In an attempt she knew was vain, she pounded the SELECT button.

Dramatic music and attractive men circling a table overtook the screen. Yup, just as she suspected: a crime show. But it would do just fine.

0-0-0

Bailey jolted awake at the feeling of thumbs pressing into the underside of her shoulders. Her limbs began to snap to attention before she had even fully come round, with her spine pulling straight and her fingers curling into a fist—

"Hey, you're okay," a gentle voice began to soothe her, and while she didn't immediately melt, she stopped to listen. Sunlight struck her pupils as her eyelids allowed mere slits to peel open. Disoriented and suddenly wound on adrenaline, she froze to wait for her vision to adjust. She was afraid. She was tense. She was wary. She didn't like not being in control, and right now, she hadn't the slightest idea what was happening.

"You're okay, I promise." Oh, but that voice sounded like every fluffy thing she could name, that memory that comforted her when she couldn't sleep, that distant thought that clung to the back of her mind and held her hand when she was lonely. Her chest didn't feel as tight. Her fists unraveled like a bad plotline. With a cock of her head and squinting in the afternoon sun, she found a tender smile that she learned to never expect. Even behind his mask, his gaze was electrifying.

Her shoulders still in his palms, he slid onto the couch and placed her down so that her head nested upon his thigh. Gloved fingers hesitantly slipped into her hair, but he stopped.

"Is—uh, is this okay?" Robin stammered. His thighs were so warm and a little uncomfortable because of the muscle, and he still smelled so damn good, and she was growing exceptionally partial to the color green, and there was absolutely nothing un-okay about what he had just done. It threw her, though. It was really sweet, especially for her presence being far more of a burden than he could pardon her for.

In response, she nuzzled her face into his leg and closed her eyes again. The world went black.

0-0-0

The world rushed back again as her face dropped to the sofa. Her fingernails dug into the back of the couch as she yanked herself up, eyes alight with alertness.

Robin was standing in front of the couch, looking expectantly toward the doors parted to reveal an especially disgruntled-looking team. Beast Boy's scowl was carved deep into his green skin. Starfire had massive, blank eyes, betrayal glittering on her lashes. Raven merely had one cocked brow, but her hunched shoulders announced her dismay enough. Cyborg looked pissed.

"How do you think?" Raven growled in response to a question Bailey had missed. All she heard was the exhale of the doors as Beast Boy took his silent leave. He was sick of this. He was sick of the circus. His leader was clearly losing his mind.

Robin's head fell, bending under the weight of his regret and shame. His spiky hair deflated like a cockatiel's crest. "I should have been there. I'm sorry."

His voice was so soft and sincere that Bailey had to fight with every muscle she had to stand up to the roar of her heart that demanded she hold him. It was not her place—not here, not now. They weren't supposed to be proud of each other. As far as she was concerned, she was his biggest regret. He didn't need the trouble that a kiss upon his smooth cheek would stir. So she sat stiff in stony silence as Starfire strode to his side with folded hands and irises that threatened to smuggle him into a land of grassy meadows. God, she was lovely. The back of Bailey's neck lit into flame.

"Robin, do not blame yourself," she tried to comfort him with long, elegant fingers on his shoulder. Bailey felt her chest growing tight; she was absurd, pathetic to think that she had a fighting chance against this exotic alien. She was a man's heaven incarnate, with legs that could connect continents and a waist as slim as a wine glass stem. She was sweet and kind and a pleaser.

"It is not your fault you had to monitor this…" and suddenly she felt herself under the unbridled brilliance of Satan's hatred, as nothing else could be compared to that which poured from those emerald eyes. "That thing."

Bailey's hackles rose. She was no thing. She was a burden, she was a wrench in the wheel, she was an annoyance, but she was no thing. Had she forgotten the dozens of times she'd picked her team apart? How dare she? As the alien continued to soothe the boy, her eyes narrowed to slits and she felt her fingers curl slowly into a ball. Oh, she would show Ms. Thing what sort of thing she really was. Ms. Thing needed a reminder as to who exactly she was talking to and what exactly she was getting herself into.

Her thighs lifted her and her left foot drifted out, her point of pivoting around the obstacle that was Boy Wonder. The girl hadn't even looked her way yet—

Robin's hand shot out and grabbed the back of her neck. His gaze still had yet to leave the couch. With his classic grace and smooth assertiveness, he made her dance, pulling her in front of him as he slid around behind her. The pressure that his thumb pressed deep behind her ear began to crawl up her temple and threatened a headache.

"Walk." He left no room for argument, just a simple command that was heavy with intrinsic leadership, his God-given right. And for the first time yet, she was caught so off-guard that she bowed beneath his demand, spine straight and eyes forward as she marched around the couch with him in tow. She didn't even think to cast any glare or death threat to Starfire. The redhead just stood, cheeks freckled with astonishment, as the pair exited. Even her stare had been stripped of its malevolence—she was brimming with sheer confusion.

It was silent as the doors open and closed behind them. An immediate left—they were headed toward her room. All that sounded was the thud of his steel toes. She was barefoot.

Just as a question began to bubble to her vocal chords, he shoved her against the wall and had her wrists pinned beside her shoulders before she could even react.

She was getting slow. She was getting comfortable. She trusted him too much.

"Are you really thinking about attacking one of my team members?" Robin snarled low and fast, his hot breath pluming across her nose. "In our own home? Right in front of me?"

Bailey's eyes raced across his face, and her jaw could do nothing but pump uselessly. She couldn't think, her mind was reeling, and the dare that was plastered across his face was making her blood boil; he was daring her to do it. He was daring her to try to hurt any one of them. The lines between his eyebrows warned her that her skull would be confetti in his palm before she could land a move.

"I would think long," he yanked her arms around her back and shoved her wrists together, and she was suddenly back in the training room with him. Sweat was not skiing down his snow-white skin but his body heat was just as intoxicating, "and hard about every decision you make, Bailey."

His nose was almost grazing hers.

"Because I will not hesitate,"

Her heart could almost ricochet against his chest.

"to annihilate you,"

Handcuffs had nothing on the force of his fingers around her wrists.

"if you break my trust."

The black and white of his mask was all she could see, and it was drowning her.

"I won't!" Bailey blurted out. He stopped in his aggression, his face almost softening. He wasn't expecting that. He wasn't expecting an answer. He was making himself very clear, setting a hard line for her to follow, and he wouldn't take any protest—but he certainly wasn't expecting a yield. She was a fighter. If she wanted to, she would fight to the end.

"I…I won't." Her eyes were enormous and God he believed her.

She slowly leaned up with her eyelids descending as she gently delivered a soft peck to his mouth.

He could kiss her. He could kiss her right now. He could shove her against the wall and demand her mouth, his muscles were wound taut and his hands had her wrists and he was desperate to prove to anyone that he was some kind of a leader. He so badly wanted to capture her because his craving for her never seemed to dim, didn't pass with the changing of the sun and moon, didn't ease with the fading of the hours. Every moment played in excruciating detail on his dry tongue and reminded him that his lips were empty.

But his chest was fumbling again. She looked so beautiful pinned to a wall, and though he knew beautiful wasn't quite the word to be used he couldn't help but think it anyway. Hair all askew and gaze alight, she looked wild and untamable and he desperately wanted to be a part of that but he didn't know how. All he knew how to do was kick butt, crack the uncrackable, sleuth out leads, and summon the heavy hand of justice, and he loved it more than he could explain but he also couldn't explain his awkward affection for this girl. A part of him just wanted her to go away.

Robin's fingers pried apart, relinquishing her wrists. A little disgruntled, she let them slide to her sides, but didn't move another muscle as he pressed his palms to the wall beside her head and leaned over her. She couldn't read what he was thinking, but she almost choked on the effort he was exerting.

All she needed was patience. He would appreciate it in the end.

Long minutes turned over, and eventually he stood straight. Immediately she missed the little hut his body had become. She liked it when he bent over her, a crooked lean-to that kept her safe and warm and was kind on the eyes but kinder to the soul. He made her feel more secure than she thought she deserved. Bailey tucked a lock of hair behind her ear as she stared up at him.

"We have training to do," he mumbled softly before he turned and walked toward the elevator. The sway of his hips and looseness of his shoulders suggested that he was not mad, he was not stressed, he was not tight. These were all delightful things. He was an agreeable training partner when he was calm; not only was he more on-point, but he knew how to laugh and she loved it when he tipped his spiky head back and truly laughed. He was an angel, she thought.

"Wait," she didn't even stop to make sure he was waiting before she darted down the hall and ducked into her room. When she came running back, a bundle of white uniform flapped behind her, bleeding through her fingers. He could hear the pink bulbs clank together as they jostled through the air.

A slow, sweet smile stretched across Robin's lips.

0-0-0

"Honey, I'm home!" he called into the cavernous room. His own voice echoed back at him from the ceilings that could hold up Mount Olympus. With a smirk beneath his mask and his necessary cocky swagger, he sauntered to the center of the floor with two sacks in each hand slung over his shoulders. The fuckers were heavy, but way more than worth it.

He watched the man's back immediately tense at the sound of his greeting. A huge expanse of computers were blinking and flashing and sputtering down at him. It looked like work. Ew.

"Must you?" the man growled. He felt his white hair going whiter.

The boy flopped the huge sacks down and took a seat on them, lounging and stretching his legs before crossing them. What a deal he was getting: he got all the valuables he could carry and got to annoy the soul out of Slade. There truly was a God.

"The way I see it, you're the one that needs my help, so yeah, I must do anything I please."

"And you're proving to be useless," Slade slowly swung around in his chair to face the criminal. "That which is useless is disposable."

"Oh, relax, Big Bad Wolf," Red X's eyes rolled beneath his mask as he scoffed. Slade was dangerous, deadly even, but there was nobody that could do a better job than X, and they both knew it. He was stealthy, smooth, and secretive, and he was cocky enough to never second-guess himself. Slade valued that above all else; training would lay the foundation, but hesitation would always be the deathblow. Only practice could ensure that the first response was the right one.

But really, Red was the only one that Slade believed could get the job done. He had the best odds of not getting caught.

"I've got the info," he continued. Slade didn't answer. The little prick was enjoying the man's anxiety, and he wanted to crush him for it. He hated being so weak. He hated being beholden to anyone. Bailey better be worth the trouble, but he knew she was and he hated to admit it and it tasted like vinegar as the thought seeped deep into his brain.

Red X had slid a stack of bills from a sack and was flicking through it. After an antagonistic pause, he looked up from the cash. "She wasn't with them. But neither was Boy Wonder."

Icicles coursed through his veins before flaming up into magma. This was the smoking gun. This cemented his assumption: Robin was involved way more than he should have been. This harboring of his apprentice was far more than professional duty, was far more than his obligation to protect the city. He didn't know how, and he didn't know when, but it had become personal. The girl meant something to him.

How dare he?

Someone was going to die by the end of this. He would make sure of it.

Unfortunately, Red X was clever as well. Though Slade stared at the rock beneath his black boots, he could feel the dripping grin that sat proudly on the smug slug's face. It was not helping his volcanic eruption.

"Aw, Boy Wonder stole your girl…literally," he chuckled as he dug around in a sack. He had no idea how close he was to being strangled. "I've got something that'll help. I figured you'd need it after that little nugget." He pulled out a glass bottle filled with honey liquid and a blue label wrapped around it like a sash. It sloshed against the glass and collapsed across itself, and the kid looked like he was holding an Oscar with the pride that oozed from his chest. It seemed like an honest effort, a genuine gesture. He was really trying to help.

However, Johnny Walker Blue Label scotch was not what Slade needed. Slade needed revenge.

"Get. Out." He growled low and slow, and if he had to explain himself or make it clearer then the boy was not worth it. He would bash his head in and get someone else—he didn't care how valuable the runt was.

Red X heard the lethality in his voice. The hand full of scotch wilted. He had tried. Perhaps a bit classless—well, as classless as a stolen $200 bottle of alcohol could be—but there had been genuine thought there. He should have expected as much from Slade. He wasn't exactly the type to bounce back with the normal means of coping. He needed blood to settle a score.

"Suit yourself," he murmured, collecting his sacks. "More for me."

And with that, the criminal left the villain to his computers.