A/N: Okay! After I put out What Robin Doesn't Know, and got such a phenomenal response, I knew I had to write a companion piece. I just had to find the best episode to do it for. At first, I was going to do it after "Betrothed", but the seriousness of my theme didn't fit for that episode. But "Haunted"...wow! That was, by far, one of the greatest Titans episodes ever. (I guess I'm just sadistic, and love the episodes with Robin angst!)
To be perfectly honest, Starfire is my favorite character, mostly because she's so misunderstood. People think she's just a ditz, but I see so much more to her character than that. But if I had to pick a second favorite, it would be Robin. His character is very deep, and his life is so unhappy that I find strength in his endurance.
I might actually do another few companions to this "series" of one-shots that I'm doing, and I do use that term loosely, but I want to make something clear from the start. The only coupling I am a supporter of on Teen Titans is Robin/Starfire because of their roots in the comic book. I'm sorry to all you Ra/Ro, Ra/BB, Ra/Cy, St/BB, or St/Cy...I just don't see any of those pairs. Beastboy is not in a place emotionally to have a significant other--do I have to mention Terra? Cyborg...well, I think he should get a girlfriend, but not Star or Raven. And as for Raven, a character whom has nothing but my deepest respect, I just can't see her with anyone. She and Beastboy are too far tangent where even opposite attraction wouldn't make that relationship work. She and Robin are too much alike that they would ultimately make each other miserable--no room to grow in that relationship. I can tolerate her with Cyborg, but I'll never write such a pairing.
To make a long story short, I am an unbiased Robin/Starfire supporter. And for all my fellow Titan followers, I hope you like my companion piece.
Disclaimer: I do not own Teen Titans, much to my sadness. But I do tape the episodes--and label them! In your face Cartoon Network! Until you release the episodes on DVD I will have to tape them ALL! Also, I don't own the poem Invictus, that belongs to William Ernest Henley. I just thought it fit the scheme very well.
The Meaning of Alone
"Out of the night that covers me,
Black as the pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever Gods may be,
For my unconquerable soul..."
It was a dark and stormy night, when his life changed forever.
Well, it wasn't so much stormy as the air was filled with the thunder of applause and the huge strobe lights cut through the air like lightning, to illuminate the tent for all to see. It was the eight o'clock curtain, the last show of this tour in Gotham City that the circus would be performing for another four years.
This was back before his life had been ruined, mind you, back when he still went by the name that his mother had given him. That was back when he was still Richard Grayson, a child prodigy of acrobatics, the youngest son and member of the "Flying Graysons" trapezes team.
He had only been ten years old when they had come to Gotham, a city of dark and dangerous things that were both frightening and exciting. He had been old enough to know what death was, but just young enough not to fully comprehend what it meant.
He was just a little boy, so he couldn't understand why a strange man had suddenly taken control of the tent or why the people below him were screaming or why things were happening so fast. He didn't understand why his parents pushed him on to the last trapeze bar, taking him to the other tower across the tent while they stayed behind with his brother. He couldn't fathom why the tower his family was on had suddenly collapsed, and why his family suddenly fell to a ground with no nets.
Most of all, he just couldn't understand why they were gone, and he was still there. They had saved him, but not themselves. They had gone on, and he was left behind. With nothing, with no one. A creature with no present or future. At least, that was until he was rescued by a man in a cape.
It wasn't until years later that he realized that night, under the circus tent, Richard Grayson had died with his family. The little boy that had been left behind, the one taken in by the reclusive millionaire, the one raised by a vigilante, was an entirely different person. He became Batman's heir, the son he never had. He had become a hero the likes of which Richard Grayson, despite the limitless imagination gifted to most children, could have imagined.
It was because of Bruce Wayne, the man who had become friend, mentor, and father. Bruce had trained him to fight for what he believed in, for what was right. Taught him that he had been spared for a reason, to spare other little boys the fate that both he and Bruce had experienced. It was a cause that he put his whole heart into. It was what he lived for.
Then it was time for him to leave the place that he had come to look at as his home, in favor of a new home and a new city in need of protection. Now, he was no longer a little boy. He was nearly a man, strong and smart and honed for his calling. This time, he understood the changes to his world. He knew the responsibilities that lay before him as the leader of the newly formed heroic team, the Teen Titans. He fully understood who and what he was.
He was Robin, the Titan.
He was a hero.
But there were some instances when he still felt like that little boy who had lost his family one night that had begun no differently than any night before it. There were times when he still felt like Richard Grayson, and would miss that boy who he had known in another life.
There were times when Robin wasn't enough. Times like tonight, when his mind was no longer his own.
As he lay on his bed, gazing at the dark ceiling, these thoughts raced through his head at the speed of light. He had promised his friends that he would rest, promised them that he would relax and get better from the ordeal that had befallen him. But he found that he couldn't rest. All he had was his thoughts and his memories, locked away in the dark, and a lingering fear in the pit of his stomach that the madness that had briefly taken hold of his mind wasn't the result of a chemical, but from the darkest recesses of his own mind.
Robin sat up in his bed, nursing his bruises by going slowly. God, this was the one part of being a hero he never enjoyed. The healing part. When all the injuries bestowed upon him by various villains had time to sink in and result in one awful conclusion. Pain. Lots of it.
His head throbbed, along with the rest of his body, as he got to his feet.
His costume was still in tatters and it was drenched with cold sweat, evidence of the reminiscing of his past. It was just more proof that he wasn't over what happened to his family, what happened to who he used to be. Maybe he'd never get over it. Maybe he'd always have the nightmares, the sleepless nights, the obsessions with defeating any obstacle that might pose harm to the world he protected with ever ounce of his being.
Robin shook his head, an action that elicited a hiss of pain when he realized the error of that action. He hobbled toward the small bathroom adjacent to his room. He'd built it personally, so he wouldn't have to share with the others. Not because he thought he was above sharing a bathroom, but because he needed special equipment and space.
In the corner of the room was a small chrome tub that ran hot and cold. He turned on of the knobs and icy water started streaming into the bottom. Then he pulled off his uniform, tossing it into a pile on the while tile floor. He'd see if he could salvage any of it later. Right now, all he wanted was to relax his sore muscles and wash away the scent of fear that still clung to him in waves.
When the tub was filled, he turned off the water and lowered himself into the cold water, sucking in a deep breath. His teeth chattered slightly as he submerged up to his neck, but the cold water needled at his bruises until the pain was numbed away. Then he body fully relaxed, tension fleeing.
Bruce had taught him this technique. The difference between ice water and hot water. How to heal his fragile human body fast and efficiently. Robin cursed it sometimes. Being human, being mortal. He envied Starfire for her stamina. He envied Raven of her control. He envied Cyborg for his strength. And he envied Beastboy for his optimistic attitude.
Robin was sullen, and he was serious. Sure, there were times when he could be as fun-loving and joking as the next guy. He was a teenager after all. But most of the time, he head was in the mission and his mind was on the enemy. He always wanted to be three steps ahead, to prevent unseen consequences. Most of the time, he just couldn't do it all.
But it didn't stop him from wishing he could.
It didn't stop him from trying to do so.
Robin held his breath and fully submerged his body into the water. For a few heart-stopping seconds, he didn't want to go back up. He wanted to stay in the cold water and drowned so he wouldn't have to look at his friends again. So he wouldn't have to deal with the guilt and the remorse and the effects of his actions, no matter how misguided. He wanted to take the coward's way out for once, to hide and to leave so that he wouldn't have to look those he cared about in the eye, so he wouldn't have to be reminded that this lapse in control had let Bruce down, and all the faith he had put in him.
Maybe somewhere, in the deepest part of his soul, little Richard Grayson just wanted to be with his family again, and not have to keep fighting on, knowing that no one would be waiting for him when he came back at night.
No one but a dark room and an old photograph.
Finally, the air in his lungs gave out and Robin resurfaced with a gulp of air.
No, he didn't take the coward's way out, but God knew how much he wished he could have. Instead, he went on living for the next day. To stop the next villain and to save the city that looked to him for help.
It was almost funny that in a city populated with such a strong police force, it took five teenagers to keep it from falling down around the citizen's ears.
Robin climbed out of his icy bath and drained the water, drying himself off before changing into a fresh costume. He looked at the ragged left-overs from the first one he had been wearing that day and sighed. He'd deal with it later. Right now, he was mentality exhausted, and he needed more time to relax his thoughts.
"In the fell clutch of circumstance,
I have not winced nor cried aloud,
Under the bludgeonings of chance,
My head is bloody, but unbowed..."
The roof was vacant, as he knew it would be.
Sometimes Starfire came up here to watch the sunset. That was her favorite time of day, and she loved to bathe in the fading glow of the sun when she reminisced about her home. There were occasions when she's venture up here in the dark of night, like she had a few weeks earlier after their encounters with the new Red X. But he knew she wouldn't be here tonight.
He knew because it was late, even for him to be out here. That was a good thing, if you look at it, because he wanted to be alone at the moment.
That was a statement that almost had him laughing. Alone.
Such a stupid and insignificant word, yet it meant so much to his life.
For the past year, since the Titans had been formed and a sort of family had been forged between the five teenagers, everyone had been reminding him that he wasn't alone.
He just couldn't help it, he always felt alone.
Ever since his family had died. Since Richard Grayson had died. Robin had been the heir to the Dark Knight, a man who reveled in darkness and lived enveloped in loneliness. How could he, the son, not be inflicted by the sadness of the father? How could he not feel alone when everyone he loved was gone? When his mentor miles and cities and emotional walls away? When his heart was cut off from those around him, not out of desire, but out of necessity?
How could he not be alone when that was all he felt?
He had a calling, a purpose. He had a new life, a new identity. Robin had a home and a place and a job, but all of that didn't make up for the emptiness gaping inside, the hole left by so many years of being cut off from his emotions.
Maybe that was why Slade had so invade him. Robin had spent so many years cut off, so many months fighting nameless, faceless criminals that when a nemesis appeared, it consumed him.
Every Robin needs a Slade.
It was almost a sing-song tune that raced through his mind. Every hero needs a villain, or else they have no use. Robin, to escape the villain in himself, had thrown himself into fighting an openly evil menace. They were alike, he knew that. Slade gave in to the impulses of malice and destruction that plagued him. Robin resisted, went on trying to serve and protect. He couldn't give in to the darker side of himself.
He had chosen to be a hero, for all the pain and loss and confusion it caused him. He did what was right.
Still, his soul was weighed down with bitterness, with anger, with regret. There were times when he wanted to shuck the cape and mask of a hero and just exact the revenge he so wanted. To kill the man who took his family, who destroyed his life. To kill the man who threatened to take what little peace he had found. To kill anyone who got in his way, who threatened what he loved.
There were some nights he wanted that more than he wanted air in his lungs.
Still, he never gave in.
That was what made him a hero.
That was what made him Robin. What separated him from Richard Grayson. What separated him from Slade. But that was also what set him apart from his friends. His devotion, his cause, made him alone among friends.
His very being, who he was, set him apart. No matter how much he wanted to be with them, be one of them, be like them, Robin would never truly make the transition.
There was a little part of his soul missing. And that would make him forever alone.
"Robin."
At first, he wasn't sure if the voice came from inside or outside of his head. But in the same moment, he also felt the presence of another person behind him. He turned with baited breath, fearing that Slade had indeed come back to haunt his mind for a second time in the same day. He wasn't crazy, but if the masked madman was behind him, he'd know for certain.
But then the held breath was expelled.
"Raven," Robin breathed. "You should make a little noise when sneaking up on someone."
"Sorry," she apologized without sounding sorry at all. That was just her way, and he forgave her for it.
"What's up?" he asked.
"Shouldn't you be resting?" she questioned, moving silently to his side on the roof. Where as Robin sat at the edge, looking out over the sparse lights of the sleeping city, Raven choose to stand.
"I couldn't sleep," he admitted. One couldn't keep secrets around a psychic.
"That's not good for your injuries," she intoned.
"I already took care of the bruises. I'll be fine," he said, feeling the dull ache of his body all the more strongly now that she reminded him.
"I wasn't talking about your bruises," Raven said cryptically. "I was talking about your mind."
"It's all here," Robin said a little more forcefully than he would have liked. "And not going anywhere."
"I'm not implying that you're insane," Raven said slowly, knowing she had the retort coming, but pressing on anyway. "The mental and emotional strain this ordeal put on you would take a toll on the strongest person. You should be resting, even if that means laying still and letting your mind wander."
"Wandering is not a good habit of mind," he grumbled, pulling his legs up and resting his elbows on his knees. "Too much going on inside my head."
Raven sighed, crouching beside him. "I know, I saw," she reminded him. Then she looked over at him, her face blank, her eyes searching. "You have a lot of repressed feelings. Memories trying to get to the surface. Why do you ignore them?"
Robin frowned. "Why do you ignore yours?" he countered.
"I don't ignore my feelings," Raven clarified. "I think the fear episode was enough proof that I learned that lesson. Controlling them is to accept them. You'd do a lot better were you to accept half of what's in your head, or in your heart."
Robin gave her a deadpan look. "Is that from a fortune cookie?"
"The Book of Azar," she responded.
"Great," Robin snapped. "Go consult your books, Raven. I'll go watch something on television." He got to his feet, slow for him considering the pain he was in, and walked toward the roof access door.
"You must think she's stupid," Raven called after him, causing him to slow. "Or at the very least, I am."
He stopped, turning to face her. "What do you mean?"
Night air rippled across the roof, ruffling through Raven's cloak. It lent it's voice to her own as it twinned around him. "You forget I've been inside your head."
I've glimpsed what you hide, the wind sang.
"And what did you see Raven?" Robin challenged. "Pictures? Images of what I have in here?" He jabbed a finger to his forehead, angry at her for talking to him. Angry at himself for wanting to run away. Scared of the voices calling to him on the night air, another sign of losing his mind.
"I saw who you were," she said simply. "And I see who you want us to believe you are." Raven shook her head. "I'm surprised I didn't see threw it sooner. I know she did, and I'm the psychic of the house." She sighed suddenly, walked toward him, then past him toward the roof access door. "You try so hard to disconnect, to make yourself and everyone else believe that what happened in the past happened to another person."
"It did!" he protested. "I'm not who I was. I'm not that kid!"
You don't have to be a little kid, the wind whispered, dying with each step Raven took, to miss your family, and remember where you come from.
Raven sighed again, opening the door and taking the first step through it. "It takes a lot of strength to hide what you do," she said quietly. "I envy your endurance. But," and it was the but that made him close his mouth. "You're an idiot for keeping it all inside when there is at least one person determined to make you see you're not alone."
And with that, she was gone.
Robin was left to stew in his anger, his memories, and his sadness. She was right, he knew she was right, but that didn't make anything easier for him. It didn't make him suddenly want to open up and tell the world what happened to him and what made the difference between Robin and the little boy, Richard Grayson, who he had been.
All it did was make him want to talk to one person.
The person who's opinion mattered the most to him.
The one person he couldn't face.
"Beyond this place of wrath and tears,
Looms but the horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years,
Finds, and shall find me, unafraid..."
She was in the kitchen.
He didn't know whether to thank the Gods, or watch out for falling pianos, because that was about all that was left to happen to him that day. And a fitting end too! "Masked hero loses mind and is cursed by falling Instrument". The papers would have a field day.
For a few minutes, he contemplated heading back up the stairs to his room, before she spotted him, but in his movement, a floorboard creaked and she looked up.
And from the second her emerald eyes fell upon him, he knew he couldn't run. It was the power of her gaze that drew him in, as it always had the power to do, and he was helpless to resist. Robin was just that weak when it came to Starfire. Not because of some predetermined male weakness to a pretty female. Not out of some hormonal imbalance that made him drool--which, when he was honest, he was prone to do on occasion.
No, this was a connection that he had with the alien girl that he had never felt for another living thing before. Something in him just said that she, like no one else, could understand how he felt and who he was. No explanations were needed. No actions were taken. It was just there.
Starfire had always been there, by his side, even before she was physically there. Yes, it sounded strange. Just chalk it up to yet another thing to question his sanity over. It was just that, when he met her, it wasn't so much of a "Hi, how are you?" as much as "Oh there you are! What took so long?" That was his relationship with Starfire.
She was the only person in the world he could ever think of broaching the subject of loss and pain with. She was the only person he trusted remotely enough to feel that comfortable with.
On some level, he must have known how deep the feelings went, but he couldn't bring himself to say the words. Even in his head. It was too much of an admission of guilt. Or a death sentence. It was just a fact that everyone he ever loved, died. Except for Bruce, who would live forever as Batman, in the hearts of all villains who dared trod in Gotham.
Still, his love for his surrogate father was nothing like the feelings he had for the red-haired beauty who stood in the light of the open refrigerator door, staring at him. She didn't move, didn't say a word. Instead, she waited for him to make the first move.
"Hey, Star." Smooth Romeo, very smooth.
"Good evening Robin," she replied softly, turning back to the open fridge. "I was just coming for a snack at midnight. Even though it is past midnight...and it it more of a meal than a snack..."
"I get what you mean," he said quickly, cutting off the lengthy explanation that usually came when Starfire tried to analyze Earth slang. The ice was broken, so he moved away from the staircase and toward the counter, limping slightly.
"Why are you not resting?" she asked, half curious, half scolding.
"Too much on my mind," he responded, not really wanting to go into this discussion again. "I can't sleep."
She seemed to accept his explanation, and pressed on. "Would you like something from the cold box?"
"No," he said with a half-smile. "I'm good."
She reached inside and pulled out a plate of some kind of giggling mass. This one was violet. Placing it on the counter, a spoon beside it, she closed the door to the fridge and sat across from him, spooning the gelatin delicately to her mouth. She made no excuses; she was openly watching him.
Robin decided to make the first move, approaching a subject that was fresh in his mind. Like a scab, he had to pick at it until the pain made him stop. Who better to use to pick at than Starfire, who was there, and would understand part of what he meant?
"Starfire?"
"Yes?"
"You...have a brother...don't you?"
She blinked at his question, confused. Placing the spoon down, Starfire looked him in the eye. "I have a younger brother, yes. Why do you ask?"
Robin looked at his hands, gloved in green. He never wore gloves at the circus, only chalk dust to get a good grip on the bars. Gloves would make him slip. The gloves he wore now covered the scars on his hands left over from ten years of acrobatics in the circus life. Reminders of an old life, better left forgotten.
"I had a brother. Did I ever tell you that?" She could never understand how much air to took to push out those words.
"No," she said softly. Then again, maybe she could understand.
"He was three years older than me," Robin went on, still staring at his hands. "He was such a jerk, always pushing me around and calling me names. He always got me into trouble. But you know what? I adored him. He was...like a hero to me or something. I wanted to be just like him." He doubled his hand into fists, curling gloved fingers into a cloth-covered palm. "But then he died. Along with my parents. Along with Richard Grayson."
"And...who was Richard Grayson?" Starfire asked tentatively, not sure how to push forward without the sudden anger that had overtaken Robin to be aimed at her.
He had frightened her that day, frightened her and hurt her, because of Slade. Once more, because of Slade. The man who changed the boy in front of her from the one she loved, to one she didn't know.
"That was my name," he said quietly, as if for the first time out loud. "Before I put on a mask and a cape. Before I ever raised my fist to protect someone. He was a little boy, who died with his family."
"Robin--"
"I hated them Star," he said suddenly. "I hated them all, for years, for leaving me behind. But I hated my brother the most, because he was supposed to be invincible. He was better than me in everything. I know he'd have made a better Robin too."
With that, the masked sidekick lurched to his feet as fast as his injuries would allow, and hobbled toward the staircase. He would have made it too, considering that even injured he moved fast, but Starfire was faster. She blocked his escape, halting just a foot or some in front of him.
"Robin!" He couldn't meet her eyes. "Robin, tell me what troubles you?"
He shook his head, spiked hair falling forward into his covered eyes. The best part about wearing a mask was that it hid well the tears welling in his real eyes. "He wouldn't have been so easily taken in by Slade," Robin told her, slowly, carefully. "My brother wouldn't fall for his traps, his tricks. He wouldn't have believed a dead man to be alive. My brother wouldn't have failed."
"But you didn't fail," she protested.
"I failed," he said venomously. "I failed myself, the team, my father. I let Slade get to me, again. But this time he did more than make me break robots and attack a civilian. He got into my head, and I hurt you."
Then suddenly, without warning, Starfire had her arms around him. He felt her tears falling on his skin, felt her warmth on his cold body. He went stiff, not sure how to respond. Should he give in, and hug back? Should he stay still and hope she backs up, but knowing that he didn't want her to? What?
Finally, he acted out of impulse, and his arms came up around her. She didn't scream or try ot hit him. She didn't pull away. If anything, she moved closer to him, lending her soothing presence to his troubled self. Starfire was like air to a drowning boy, bringing him to the surface before he could get dragged down too far.
"Why are you so forgiving of me Star?" he asked, half fearing the answer but needing to know.
"Because, someone must," she said into his ear. "I was lucky to be first."
Okay, so maybe he could admit to himself, on some level, that he was in love. With a girl. For the first time in his life. But that didn't mean he had to advertise the fact. No sense inviting disaster, especially since he had so much on his conscience right now that any other guilt might cause a physical and mental breakdown.
Ah, the drama of being a hero.
But hey, it had it's perks.
Perks like helping two of your friends finding comfort with each other, the kind of perk that Raven was enjoying at the moment from her vantage point in the shadows on the staircase. But then she backed up and left them to their moment.
There was so much good in them both that they needed someone to share it with, the same with the bad in them. It just so happened that they had each other. Raven didn't do much actually. A few gentle pushes here, a little conversation there. All in the name of love.
She sighed, contented as she opened the door to her room. The book of Azar was sitting on her bed, opened to a passage about finding joy in solace, and finding happiness in sorrow. "Azar, you are crafty," she whispered to the darkness that swallowed her. This was the book she had looked to for guidance all her life, the words she lived by. "To think you were a romance novel all along."
It was enough to bring a faint smile to her lips.
"It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged with punishment the scroll,
I am the master of the fate,
I am the captain of my soul."
A/N: Yeah, there it is! I hope you enjoyed it, I loved writing it. Please remember to review, and if you have any questions of comments, feel free to IM or e-mail me at the addresses in my bio!