Disclaimer: I'd rather eat healthy than admit that I don't own the Teen Titans... damnit!

The Path We Chose

No one ever thinks a superhero needs saving.

I suppose I understand why; we're the elite, the best. Why should we have the same nightmares? The same fears?

Why should we be human?

But we are human, and we do have nightmares.

I've seen things no one should see.

My parents dying, my home being destroyed.

Innocent people getting caught up in yet another doomed plan to take over the world that will cost them their right to live.

Proud criminals begging for their lives.

But now... My team is dead. Killed. One by one.

I can hear someone standing outside the door, muttering to something, but I don't care.

It's my fault.

I told them to go in without me, I said, clear as day;

"You guys need the practice"

I told them that they needed practice. I sentenced them to death because I thought they were becoming too lazy.

It's my fault.

Batman disagrees. He says that I couldn't have known that those amateur reporters would actually be professional terrorists.

That they would be carrying the bombs that would kill my friends.

It's my fault.

Slade.

I thought I could bring him down, I really did.

I sat, in my room studying articles about his underground groups while my friends were cornered and killed.

It's my fault.

No, no it's not. It's Slade's. Slade is the reason I wasn't there with my friends. Slade is the reason I didn't die with them, like I was supposed to.

It's Slade's fault.

It's Slade's fault.

If I hadn't stayed at the tower, if I hadn't been thinking of him, I would be dead.

Like I should be.

It's Slade's fault.

I remember going down to the bank... and seeing it.

The pieces.

The blood.

A chunk of Beast Boy's scalp, splattered on the wall.

A few of Cyborg's burnt wires, littering the sidewalk.

Star... Star's body... or what was left of it.

And Raven... I will never forget what... I saw.

It was a broken mass of gore, her skin red, four yellow eyes looking blankly up at the sky. It wasn't Raven. It was a demon, a ugly, ugly demon.

That was my teammate. That had been my teammate.

It's Slade's fault.

I hate him. Everything is his fault. My friends going without me, my friends dying, Raven becoming a demon in her final moments.

It's all his fault.

It's Slade's fault.

The mumbling that had been going on outside my door stops, then it swings open.

"He's a lost cause," Says a man in a long white coat. "We can't help him. I'm sorry"

It's Slade's fault.

The man beside him, a man in a black costume (it even has a bat on it), asks, "How long has he been saying that?"

It's Slade's fault.

"Ever since he came here," The white-coat man replies. "Funny... yesterday he had been saying it was his fault..."

It's Slade's fault.

"Point being?" Asks the black clad man coldly, making me shudder.

"Well... if he's starting to blame someone else, we may be able to break through"

The black clad man kneels down beside me. "Robin, I will do everything I can to make sure that you are treated right. Everything"

It's Slade's fault.

White-Coat speaks up, clearing his throat. "He can't comprehend you, sir. He's so far into his subconscious that everything we say has no effect"

It's Slade's fault.

Black-Clad turns back to me. "I will get you out of here, Robin. I will get you out of this mental institution"

What is he talking about?

Mental Institution?

I look at the white, padded walls around me, and then it hits me.

I've gone insane.

I try to wiggle my arms, and realize I can't. I'm in a straight jacket.

Looking up at the sad, tired eyes before me, a jolt goes through me, and I realize that I'm speaking.

"It's Slade's fault" I whisper. "It's Slade's fault. It's Slade's fault. It's Slade's fault"

Bruce stands up, and looks at me. "I will get you out of here, Robin"

White-Coat shakes his head. "It's the path we chose, Sir. He chose the path of being a hero, of sacrificing being normal to protect his city. It was his choice"

Beast Boy. Gone.

Cyborg. Gone.

Raven. Gone.

And... Star... all gone.

Was that our path? To all go? To all die?

I didn't plan it. But White-Coat was right. The others died because they had decided to be heroes. I'm now in the asylum, because I decided to be a hero.

In the end, it was the path I chose.

Story behind the Story: Too much Slade, too much coke, not enough air, and WAY too much of my friend's ramblings about fate and whatnot. Oh, and the mad desire to make Fairy ::cough:: I mean, Robin suffer.