Phobophobia

(Phobophobia is the Latin word for a fear of fear itself)

Robin froze as he ran his gaze over the man – a dangerous criminal – who now stood before him; who paused, looked cautiously behind him.

Two-Face.

This man had once been a lawyer named Harvey Dent, brilliant, intelligent, kind and handsome to boot. He had also, Robin knew, been a very good friend of Bruce's. But somehow, following an accident involving acid that had permanently scarred his face, Harvey Dent had become this; a cold-blooded killer obsessed with the number two. Robin recognised the silver thing in Two-Face's hand to be the villain's lucky two-headed dollar, one side scratched to represent tails; whenever Two-Face had a decision to make, no matter how trivial, he always consulted the coin, heads for positive and tails for negative.

Robin heard the villain breathe a sigh as he approached.

"Lost him… creepy bat…"

Robin smiled faintly as he realised Two-Face was obviously being chased by Batman. He himself wasn't afraid of the former lawyer; he wasn't dangerous without a gun in his hand. He stepped out of the shadows, blocking Two-Face's path.

"Looks like you'll have to make do with his partner," he said softly, the realisation that he had just referred to himself as Batman's partner dawning on him as the words left his lips. What surprised him more was how easily and thoughtlessly he had said it, almost as though he had forgotten that he was a Teen Titan…

"The little bird," Two-Face acknowledged, stopping in his tracks. The normal half of his mouth curled into a smile. "I heard Bats was working alone these days."

"You heard wrong," Robin said before he could stop himself.

"No matter." Two-Face's half smile did not deteriorate. "How should I dispose of you? Heads: quick and merciful. Tails: slow and painful." He flipped his coin into the air where it somersaulted over and over more times than either of them could count, then landed back in Two-Face's hand, whereupon he slapped his other down on it.

"Moment of truth, Boy Wonder," he said softly. Robin clutched his staff more tightly as Two-Face lifted his hand to reveal the verdict.

"Heads," Two-Face said, his disappointment evident. He put his coin into the pocket of his sweatpants slowly and deliberately. "That's probably best; I am on the run from the Bat."

He suddenly lunged forwards, swinging his fist at Robin's face in a punch that was surprisingly well-precisioned. It was slow, however, and Robin was easily able to duck beneath it, grab hold of Two-Face's arm and use the villain's greater weight to overbalance him. Robin backflipped as Two-Face crunched to the floor, then straightened up and retracted his staff, putting it away.

"I wish it had come up tails," Two-Face spat as he got to his feet. Robin shrugged and sprung into a cartwheel, landing inches from Two-Face and delivering an uppercut to his mutilated jaw. A scissor-kick and then a roundhouse followed, throwing Two-Face back to the floor, where he struggled to get up. Robin approached the fallen villain and stood over him, his arms loosely folded and his expression extremely smug.

"Not so great now, huh?" He stated rather than asked. He realised how arrogant he probably sounded, but for the moment didn't care; he simply basked in the baleful look Two-Face was shooting in his direction, one which he had been expecting.

What he didn't expect was Two-Face's expression to suddenly become wide-eyed, almost terrified, and even less did he expect the villain to suddenly start shrieking and backing away from him. Robin's own expression faded from that contented little smirk to one of confusion as he looked over his shoulder, expecting to find Batman looming over him.

But there was nothing there. He sharply turned back to Two-Face, thinking the villain was trying to distract him, but found that Two-Face was now writhing on the floor, still shrieking, but now his screams formed words;

"My coin! No, not my coin! Please, no… no, I need it! Please don't take my coin! Please!…"

"I don't have your stupid coin," Robin retorted waspishly. "You put it in your pocket."

To his surprise Two-Face didn't seem to hear him, nor did he notice him any longer. Robin cocked his head in confusion as he watched Two-Face's strange behaviour, then approached him cautiously, still wary of the fact that it might be a trick. He crouched down next to the villain and shook him hard. Two-Face screamed and looked at Robin with wild eyes, and yet didn't see him. He was now shrieking about someone named "Marilyn" and his words were along the same lines as the ones about his coin.

Great. I hit him too hard and now he's got brain-damage…

Robin grasped Two-Face by his broad shoulders and used all of his strength to haul him to his knees. The villain was shaking uncontrollably. Robin frowned as he stared hard into Two-Face's unseeing eyes, guessing that somehow he was hallucinating.

And then he saw it. Tiny wisps of some kind of gas, atomic green in colour but pale with thinness, trailing around them both near the floor level. Robin decided that this gas was responsible for Two-Face's condition; regardless, he wasn't sure what it was and knew it was important to get both himself and Two-Face out of the area. Trying not too breathe in too heavily he shook Two-Face hard, trying to get him to snap out of his present state.

"Two-Face! Two-Face, c'mon! We have to get out of here…" He didn't get much of a reaction so tried a different tack. "Harvey! Harvey! Come on, wake up!" He slapped the villain across the mutilated side of his face. Two-Face blinked several times and Robin breathed a sigh of relief. It didn't look as though Two-Face had breathed in too much of whatever the gas was.

"Harvey, can you get up?" He asked pointedly, shaking Two-Face again. Two-Face nodded slightly and Robin helped him to his feet. The villain nearly collapsed again and Robin was obliged to prevent him from doing so. He slung Two-Face's arm over his shoulders, taking the heavier man's weight. He dragged Two-Face with him as the villain shuffled along beside him, locked in his hallucination. Over the sirens Robin could hear the faint shrieks and screams of others in the building; obviously the gas was spreading rapidly.

He and Two-Face fell through a doorway into another corridor, this one too dimly lit and without sirens. More importantly it was also absent of gas. Robin released Two-Face as the doors banged shut behind them, allowing him to collapse in a quivering heap. There was no way he could possibly haul Two-Face all the way outside; he simply wasn't strong enough. He figured it was ok to leave him here, though. The gas didn't seem to be in this area and anyway, he had bigger things to worry about. For some reason, he found himself concerned about Batman. What if the gas had got him unaware and now he was lying curled up in a similar state to Two-Face? He started to walk away, then stopped and looked back at Two-Face, wondering whether or not to tie him up with something. He decided against it, mainly because he had nothing with which to bind him, and also because it didn't look as though Two-Face was going to be going anywhere any time soon.

He left the corridor, his steps quiet and cautious, and found himself in another exactly identical. He came to a halt and allowed himself a brief look around, moving like a frightened rabbit into the shadows as he heard the approach of footsteps. Peeping out from his hiding place he saw the intruders to be two members of the Gotham Police Department, both with their guns loaded and poised. He stayed where he was until they had passed, not wanting to have "Boy Hostage" jokes hurled in his direction, as had been common back when he had truly been Batman's crime-fighting partner. When they had safely gone he stepped out into the middle of the corridor and went to his belt for his communicator. On pulling it out he flipped it open and played around with the buttons, trying to reach Batman's own communication device.

Just to check he was ok. He wasn't worried about him. Seriously, who worried about Batman?

"I do," Robin whispered to no-one, frowning as he failed to connect to the Dark Knight.

"How touching."

Robin whipped around at the sound of that familiar voice. The Riddler was leaning in the doorway, looking much less generic without his green suit, cane and bowler hat, and instead dressed in the same fashion as Two-Face; navy sweatpants and pale grey sweatshirt. But he was the Riddler all the same, his green eyes glittering with intelligence and his red hair, unlike Two-Face's, perfectly tamed.

"We've got some things to discuss, Hotshot," the Riddler murmured, approaching Robin with a malicious smile on his face.

"Mm." Robin shifted slightly backwards, not taking his eyes off the Riddler.

"The way I see it, you and the Bat… you got me locked in here again. I got pretty banged up when the clock tower exploded a few weeks back, too. I'm not happy with you at all, Bird-boy; not happy at all…"

"Understandable." Robin looked briefly over the Riddler's shoulder, checking for wisps of gas. The Riddler seemed put out.

"You're acting very strangely, Bat-brat," he acknowledged. "Very evasively, in fact…"

He didn't know how, but somehow Robin knew that the gas was spreading in this direction. The air seemed to be getting heavier, as though it was thickening. The Riddler obviously hadn't noticed, but it was getting harder to breathe.

"Riddle me this, Bird-boy," the Riddler went on, coming closer still to the Boy Wonder. "Why is a raven like a writing desk?"

Robin frowned, then shrugged.

"Dunno. I'll have to ask her…"

He was about to spring at the Riddler in attempt to bring him down, but three police officers suddenly burst into the corridor, their guns all aimed at the Riddler.

"Alright, Nygma, don't pull anything funny on us…"

"Come on, wise-ass, let's move it…"

"We're not finished, Bird-boy," the Riddler vowed under his breath as he was hustled away at gunpoint. Robin watched the small group until the four figures disappeared around the corner out of view.

Getting done out of a job…

Sighing, he turned back and flipped his pager into the air, deftly catching it and then replacing it in his belt. He heard footsteps coming from beyond the open doorway ahead of him. He half-ran to the end of the corridor and peeped around the edge of the doorframe, squinting a little in the semi-darkness. The footsteps were quickening, becoming louder and closer… Why could he feel his whole body tensing? No doubt it was just some run-of-the-mill criminal making a break for it. He hadn't even noticed that his fists were clenched, that he was biting his bottom lip so hard he had caused it to bleed a little.

And then he saw him, darting across from one corridor into another.

Robin gasped.

Slade…

But why? What was he doing here? There was nothing worth stealing in Arkham Asylum. The last time Slade had been anywhere near Gotham, his main target had been Wayne Enterprises.

The darker part of his mind took over again, as it always reigned when Robin found himself confronted with Slade. No thought for consequences, just a blind drive to win, to unmask him, to stop him.

Although… a slight feeling of light-headedness and dizziness was also vying for possession of his senses. He tried to force it away as he leapt from his hiding place and broke into a run. However, he had barely taken a few steps before the dizziness overwhelmed him; he stumbled and came up against the wall, trying to clear his head by shaking it vigorously. He opened his eyes and looked down, seeing to his horror and dismay green wisps of gas winding around his ankles and legs, moving quickly upwards to his hips and waist. He leapt away from the wall, diffusing the gas to a certain extent, but he was still dizzy and the sudden movement caused him to lose his balance. He landed flat on his face on the hard cold floor of the corridor and struggled to get up again. He managed to get to his knees and noticed vaguely that the green gas was all around him now, and was much thicker.

At least, he thought it was. But then, he couldn't be sure. His vision was going funny; it looked like everything was… moving, almost as though he was seeing his surroundings through a kaleidoscope. The floor seemed to be rocking back and forth, enhancing the dizzy feeling that was taking over him, making him feel like throwing up. He dragged himself to his feet and staggered against the wall, unable to stay upright; he put his hand to his forehead, willing himself not to vomit all over the floor, and could feel how hot he was through the green fabric of his glove. His eyes opened again as he had an impulse to look at his hands; they were covered in… blood. Blood that hadn't been there a few seconds ago. Or had it? He couldn't tell anymore. He heard a dripping sound behind him and had a sinking feeling in his stomach as he abruptly turned and saw blood running in streams down the walls. The fact that this made no sense at all didn't concern him; the only emotion he could understand at all was panic. He felt as though the walls and ceiling were all closing in on him, trying to crush him, while at the same time throwing him about as though he was on a ship. He tried to step backwards and fell, collapsing heavily and this time not finding the strength to get up again.

"Robin…"

He looked up and saw Batman leaning over him, and he too seemed to be moving, his outline blurred and duplicated several times over.

"Batman… help me, please…" He tried to get up but Batman motioned for him to stay down.

"I can't help you," the Dark Knight said coldly. "Not after what you've done."

"What have I done?" His confusion was overwhelming, as though this and the rising panic were the only two feelings he had ever known. "Please, Batman… What have I done? You have to help me, I can't get up, I…"

"You know." Batman's tone didn't change. "But if your memory needs refreshing then get up and look."

Batman rose and Robin struggled to his knees, establishing that the Dark Knight wasn't going to help him. He cast his eyes along the corridor and immediately the urge to be sick washed over him again. The Teen Titans, his own friends, they were all… Well, "dead" wasn't even the word for it. "Brutally murdered" seemed more fitting. Cyborg, Beast Boy, Raven, Starfire… they were all lying together, covered in blood, their flesh and clothes torn. Cyborg's circuits were all torn out, his nerve centre destroyed; Beast Boy's neck was lolling at a grotesque angle; a bloody cord was around Raven's throat, cutting into her pale flesh; Starfire was covered in numerous deep slashes across her alien body, one through her throat, one across her chest, some down her thighs… Her long red hair was tangled and matted with blood and there was a birdarang sunk into her abdomen. Their eyes were all wide open, staring lifelessly at him; staring accusingly at their murderer.

"I… I didn't…" Robin couldn't get the words out as he backed away from his friends' corpses. He looked up at Batman, who wouldn't return his gaze.

"Please… please, Batman… I didn't kill them…" He was shaking with shock, his stomach heaving at the horrible sight in front of him, the sight that Batman believed him to be responsible for. His mouth was dry and the terrible feeling was still conquering him, the feeling of confusion and panic and fear and nausea and shock all mixed together and altogether wiping out anything else.

"You can't think that I… I wouldn't… they're my friends…" He could feel every breath he took wracking his entire body as he lost the energy to kneel upright and instead came onto his hands and knees. "I wouldn't kill them… I wouldn't hurt them, Batman…"

But even as he said it, doubt was creeping into his mind. He looked at them again, at their brutally ravaged bodies, and then looked back at the floor, trying to fight off vomiting. What if he had? What if he truly had turned on them, exploited their weaknesses, hurt them, killed them?… What if everything, every little dark emotion and bad impulse he had ever kept repressed within his mind had been unleashed? What if the darker mind, the darker side of him, had gone one step too far?…

"You deny it, Robin?" Batman sounded almost amused.

"No… stop, stop…" Robin half sobbed. "I didn't do it; I didn't kill them."

"Oh, but you did, Robin… And what's more, you enjoyed every second of it."

That voice… It wasn't Batman. It was Slade.

Robin managed to lift his head, the dizziness now almost painful. Slade was crouched down next to him, while Batman loomed over them both. Robin didn't understand why Batman didn't do something, why he didn't take Slade down the way he did with all the other villains.

"You're a good boy, Robin." Slade's voice was far from affectionate; it was almost mocking. Robin shook his head, trying again to clear it.

"I didn't kill them."

"You did. You murdered the Teen Titans."

"I didn't!" Robin shrieked hysterically. He got to his knees again and placed his head in his hands.

"You did, Robin. We saw you do it. You liked it."

Batman's voice again. Robin looked up, saw Batman swaying back and forth, his expression accusing.

"You were laughing as you killed them. You basked in their screams of pain, their sobs of confusion." Batman shook his head sadly. "You saved Starfire until last, kissed her, made out like you were going to spare her, then cut her to ribbons with your own weapon when she let her guard down."

"And Raven," Slade added softly. He tutted sarcastically. "Real ladies' man, Robin. You kissed her as well, right before you strangled her to death with your grappling hook."

"No…" Robin shook his head violently. "I didn't… I wouldn't…"

"You did."

Robin looked up, his chest heaving, and stared long and hard at the moving Batman.

"If you were watching, why didn't you stop me?"

Batman bowed his head.

"There was nothing I could do. I can't save you, Robin. No-one can. It's too late."

"Too late for what!" Robin asked desperately.

"Too late for you to be anything other than what you have become."

"What do you-"

"You killed them, Robin," Slade interrupted in a whisper, "because I told you to. And you only did what I said because you wanted to. You and I, Robin… we're too alike to be separate. You were destined to follow in my footsteps. We're two of a kind."

Robin shook his head again.

"No, you're wrong! We're not! I'm not like you!" He turned to Batman, who was retreating into the shadows. "Batman, help me, please… I need you to-"

"You're beyond saving, Robin. I'm sorry…"

And then he was gone.

"You don't need him," Slade said softly. "You don't need your little friends. You have me."

Robin fell to his hands and knees again, drained of energy, then curled up on the floor, his head in his hands.

"I don't want to be like you…" He whispered.

"You cannot change who you are, Robin. Sooner or later you will succumb to the darkness laced within your soul, and when you do you will revel in it."

"I won't…" Robin moaned, not believing his own words.

"You will," Slade hissed. "And when you do, I'll be waiting…"

And then he too left the broken Titan, whereupon everything faded into a total blackout and died with his final scream…

Ok, how are we doing? Have I still sustained your interest? Maybe a little gory for a fic based on a children's cartoon, I admit, but this isn't actually as bad as it gets. Drop me a review if you have any suggestions or anything (thanks to DarkMarklv's advice I now accept anonymous reviews), or if there's anything you don't like (I honestly don't mind flames as long as they are constructive).

Hope to hear from you, and hope you enjoyed it.

Next chapters up soon, as long as my reader-base doesn't completely drop off the way it did the first time.

Let me know you care… and I'll dedicate chapters to you!