Bright Line

Chapter Eight: Epimenides Paradox

"Bunnies!"

He unintentionally closed the wrong window when he heard it, biting down a curse when he realized that he'd just lost twenty minutes' worth of analysis. Taking a deep breath, he tried to force his heartbeat to slow as he reopened the program. Maybe it was for the best. If he was hearing voices in his head, he had almost certainly passed the point where he would start making errors. Should go clear his head for a few minutes, should get out of this room before he started to really believe that somebody was talking about…

"Please, Robin? Please come with us—they have bunnies! I won't even say very many annoying things; I promise!"

Why was Beast Boy trying to beat down his door? And did Robin really want to know who had bunnies?

He hurriedly saved his work (at least, the parts that he could salvage—did he want his friends to be tortured?) and walked over to the door, sighing when Beast Boy made some comment about how the door wouldn't open. For all the times he'd taken up residence in this room, Robin had always kept it unlocked if he was there: he had a tendency to get absorbed and he wanted the others to be able to get his attention if they needed him. But this was different. He'd spent an hour making sure the locks were encrypted correctly. Bruce would have had trouble with it. Nobody was getting in here if he didn't want them to.

It wasn't just Beast Boy. He'd brought Cyborg and Starfire with him, all of them grinning. Robin blinked at them, the brightness of the hallway hurting his head, trying to think of something to say to get rid of them. He had to get back to work; the consequences he'd face if he didn't made him so nauseated that he couldn't even think about them.

"Friend!" Starfire clasped her hands in front of her, flashing an innocent, energetic smile. "I had begun to wonder if perhaps you were not coming!"

He didn't know what she wanted him to do, but he was pretty sure he didn't have time. "Coming…where?"

"Bunny Golf!" Cyborg and Beast Boy yelled in unison, looking at each other and smirking.

"…I'm sorry, what?" Ludicrous images of rabbits being hit with golf clubs settled themselves in the forefront of Robin's brain and wouldn't go away. That probably wasn't what they meant—whatever it was they meant—but that's what it sounded like; and anyway, it was a really imprecise name.

Starfire nodded as if this made complete sense to her, which was highly unlikely. "Yes, we will attempt to maneuver brightly colored, spherical objects while observing tiny, delightful mammals…and it would be most splendid if you would join us."

"So, wait," he began, trying to give himself time to understand. "You want to play mini golf…and somehow there are rabbits involved?"

"Yeah, Bunny Golf, exactly," said Cyborg. Apparently, this was supposed to explain everything. "It's this new place downtown. You play mini golf and there are rabbits living around the holes and awww…"

"I have never seen such wonderful creatures myself—only in pictures—and am quite eager to do so." The smile had yet to leave Starfire's face.

Robin didn't like animals. He could possibly deal with a fish, if he had to, but he was generally unimpressed with the cute and the furry. And the idea of rabbits on a golf course sounded like a fantastically bad idea. It was hard to even think about it when his mind was on what he'd been doing just five minutes before. As it was, he couldn't think of a good response to Starfire's bubbly voice and big smile, so he settled on a blank look. A blank look that no one could see because of his mask. Fortunately.

"Oh, come on, it'll be fun! You know: fun." Cyborg said the word as if he were trying to explain the theory of relativity to a llama. "It doesn't bite; I promise."

"Well, as…great…as this sounds, I really have a lot of work to do," said Robin. "Sorry, guys, but I'm going to have to pass."

Beast Boy rolled his eyes. "Work, work, work: the only times you've come out of that room in three days are when one of us forces you to sleep. And I have no idea why you've suddenly gone all obsessive-leader-mode, but it sure is lame, just so you know."

Obsessive-leader-mode. If only that was what it was…stop complaining. He tried to answer Beast Boy but ended up coughing—Robin felt much better, but the cough hadn't gone away, and that was just obnoxious. Sometimes, though, it did work in his favor. Like now, when he'd rather cough than think of a good answer.

"Y'know," said Cyborg with an almost theatrical sigh. "It sure is nice to see you, occasionally. Even if it always seems to involve you on the other side of that doorway, trying to figure out how quickly you can slam the door in our faces."

"Yeah, and it's not like it makes any sense, anyway," muttered Beast Boy. The bandage over his cheek probably needed to be changed. He'd been badly cut up during the fight—the others wouldn't tell Robin how. "We haven't even had any missions since the hospital. What could you have possibly found that was so important that you couldn't even tell us…"

"Okay!" Robin said it without thinking, louder than he'd intended, just to get Beast Boy to stop talking. He shouldn't agree to go with them, and he'd have to make up for it somehow, but if they kept begging, they were going to ask a question he didn't want to answer, and that would make things worse. Maybe he could convince Raven not to make him sleep tonight. "I guess I…could."

Surprise colored all three expressions as they stared back at him and Cyborg fixed him with an odd look.

Starfire was the first to find her voice. "Truthfully, you shall? Glorious!" She reached out, grabbed his hand and squeezed, dragging him down the hallway while the others followed behind, snickering. Robin focused on being thankful that he'd closed the video before answering the door, wondering idly how long he'd be able to stand having her touch him, praying that she'd let go…

"This'll be awesome, you'll see," said Beast Boy as they reached the living room. "They have bunnies! Bunnies!"

Starfire let go of his hand (as soon as she did, he put a safe distance between the two of them) and decided to make Raven and Terra her new targets. The girls were putting dishes away from dinner, a blue towel slung over Terra's shoulder as she reached up to stack the last of the plates. From the look on Raven's face, she already knew about Bunny Golf, and was considerably less elated than the rest of the team.

"Bunnies," she muttered caustically. "Why did it have to be bunnies?"

"Love you, too, Rae," said Beast Boy, poking her.

"Apologies! I was not aware that this metal tool would be quite so…delicate." She looked almost comical, standing there with her pink golf ball at her feet, wide-eyed, staring hard at what she'd done. The golf club was bent at an odd angle, deformed by some very distinct fingerprints.

"It's okay, Starfire; I'll get you another one." Cyborg took the badly abused club from her and left the group, presumably to go explain the situation.

Starfire cringed sheepishly and turned to Robin, speaking in a low voice. "It was simply not as sturdy as I had expected—on my planet…" She said something, probably something about what golf-club-shaped objects were used for on Tamaran. Robin didn't think he really wanted to know, but he nodded in what he hoped was a friendly manner while he thought about what Slade's map had to do with anything.

When Cyborg returned with a new club for Starfire, she hugged him and promised to be much more careful this time. It was her turn at the first hole, and though she could pick up most of the rules from watching everyone else (because of this, they all decided that she should go last), she wasn't very good. She hit the ball with far too much force and it ricocheted off the green and into the air, striking Terra squarely in the chest.

Terra's face went white but she caught the ball—her reflexes were getting better. "Ouchies," she muttered, handing it back to Starfire. "No, no, I'm alright," Terra amended immediately at seeing her crestfallen expression.

As they moved on to the next hole, Cyborg and Beast Boy attempted to explain to Starfire about the amount of force one should apply in mini golf. That wasn't necessary—she didn't have the experience yet, that was all. If they'd just let her practice, she'd figure it out, like everything else she'd figured out in the past.

The famous rabbits were confined by a high, mesh fence around the complex that was about as tall as Robin (which, according to Cyborg, was not very tall). Otherwise, they were uninhibited: the fence was presumably for safety reasons, to avoid untimely accidents involving the heavy traffic just behind the course…though judging by his friends' interest in them, perhaps the rabbits weren't exactly safe even inside the fences. Starfire in particular seemed much more interested in the rabbits than she was in the game, her attention wandering from the impromptu golf lesson as she gazed longingly at a brown rabbit hiding under a bench. There were a good number of them, mostly black and white, half-hidden behind low rocks and thick grass. Ahead of them, outside of the boundary of the course, a small child clung to the fence behind the fifth hole, little fingers hooked through the mesh, begging his parents to let him hold just one of the rabbits. Robin couldn't even remember being that young. It was another life that he'd forgotten how to live.

"Feeling better?" Raven's voice, casual and quiet while the others were focused on Starfire's golf ball problem.

It took more effort than it should have for him to overcome the very-sizeable impulse to tell her that no, no he wasn't feeling better, that actually he was feeling worse…and then to tell her exactly why he was feeling worse. The look on her face suggested that she wasn't asking the question out of casual curiosity—stupid empathy—and besides that, it made him… Well, made him think for one irrational moment that it would just be easier to tell her. Maybe the rabbits had something to do with it. The rabbits and the boy hovering over the fence and his high-pitched voice as he wondered aloud what you were supposed to feed to a rabbit…

But it wouldn't be easier. So he nodded at Raven and forced a thin smile. "Infinitely."

"Sarcasm isn't a very good look for you, in case you were wondering," said Raven.

Instead of looking at her face, Robin concentrated on the golf ball that she kept hovering in front of her. It was spinning gently, though you could never tell to look at it that she was using her powers. The shadowy outline was reserved for when Raven was serious. "Look, maybe you think I'm lying to you—"

"…not lying. Trying to impersonate me and failing. A lot."

"Whatever," Robin muttered. "In any case, I'm better. Really. I wasn't being sarcastic. It's just this stupid cough."

The golf ball fell neatly into Raven's palm. "You can tell me later." She said it in a way that meant that she had every intention of making Robin tell her later. And Robin was pretty sure that she wasn't talking about the flu. They still hadn't really discussed…well…everything. Anything. Though he didn't really see what there was to discuss, of course. He'd often wondered why she still saw fit to allow him to continue leading—though maybe she was just nice enough not to force him to leave while he was sick.

He would have said something in response to that, but it was Raven's turn and Beast Boy was standing very close behind her, trying to get her to mess up. Terra's giggle got cut short as she seemed to remember something and then edged away with an almost terrified glance at Raven. She knelt down on the dirt path to pet one of the rabbits, curling herself up as if she was trying to make herself as small as possible.

Somewhere between the eighth hole and the tenth, Beast Boy got tired of playing correctly and resorted to rolling the ball instead of putting—and, when that didn't work, to conveniently-placed shoes that "accidentally" got in Cyborg's way. Six months ago, Robin might have been annoyed, but as it were, he just didn't think he had the right to criticize a team member. Besides, it was only due to Raven's good graces that Robin himself was still a part of the team at all, let alone the team leader…and who knew when she'd…

"Hey, Asparagus! If you do that one more time…"

Beast Boy grinned innocently. "What? I was just trying to rescue this poor bunny from your big, scary golf ball." He indicated the closest rabbit within reach, made to pick it up, and scowled when it darted away.

"If you like them so much, you should turn into one, 'cos they don't talk," said Cyborg.

"Best idea anyone had all evening." A rabbit sniffed Raven's foot and she closed her eyes, breathing deeply as if she were running through all the reasons why she shouldn't kick it.

"Anyway, I get another turn—that doesn't count." Cyborg shot Beast Boy a meaningful look.

"It does so count—you missed!"

"Why do you care? You've been cheating the whole time!"

"I've only been cheating since the eighth…whoopsie."

Robin focused on the tiny lighthouse to the left of the next hole, staring into the electric light that was shaped to look like a candle and wishing he was doing his work. It was strange to have a model of a lighthouse with no water. Golf courses usually had a little river, so the people who didn't know how to play would have something to complain about when they lost their balls to the current. But of course, it wasn't a good idea to have water saturated with enough chemicals to make it sky blue when there were live animals around, so that was probably why…he really should be analyzing the video. Slade's plans always came with a time limit, and who knew how serious he was about the idea or how ready he was to implement it—or if he already had, even. Robin wasn't going to sleep tonight. Wasn't. He'd come up with some way to persuade Raven to leave him alone. Right now, what he really wanted to do was run until he couldn't run anymore, because Robin didn't like to stand still, and mini golf was way too slow paced for him in the best of circumstances—and after three days of either sleeping or sitting at his computer, he just wanted to move.

Get a grip. Stop thinking about yourself, stop it now.Was there anyone in the world more selfish than he was? Innocent lives were at stake, and all he could be bothered with was how bored he was with staying in one place…and how sick it made him to think about having to go back to that computer and… Stop it; it's your fault, you did this…

"Hey…guys? Where's Starfire?" Terra hesitantly raised her hand to interrupt Cyborg and Beast Boy's argument about the golf ball, raking her hair behind her ears with her other hand.

Cyborg didn't seem to have any intention of backing down, but Beast Boy immediately dropped the fight and turned his full attention to Terra. "Good question. I didn't really notice, honestly. Hey, Rae, have you seen her?"

Raven raised a dangerous eyebrow. "Call me that again. I dare you."

For one, horrible moment, Robin thought that Starfire might have been kidnapped, right there when he was supposed to be protecting her, and as the forgotten golf club slipped from his fingers, his breath caught in his throat with the sticky possibility that he'd never see her again…

"Friends! I have obtained numerous amounts of the furry mammals, and have found that they are simply delightful!"

Hovering in the air a few feet above them, Starfire flashed a grin that could have blinded someone if they weren't expecting it. She was struggling to hold onto the half dozen—or maybe more—rabbits in her arms as she lowered herself to the ground. One of them, entirely white, chewed languidly on her hair, a peculiar, glazed look painted over its eyes. Starfire hoisted one of the rabbits onto her shoulder, and to Robin's amazement, it didn't fall off or even struggle. It just…lay there, lifting its spotted face a fraction of an inch to sniff at her ear.

She swished her red hair in an attempt to pry it out of the white rabbit's mouth. "I believe that perhaps I preferred them when they were more energetic, but I did wish to hold them myself, and these creatures did not seem too keen on that prospect, so I merely…"

Starfire trailed off and indicated the armful of rabbits with excitement, offering them to Robin who politely shook his head, and then to Raven who pulled up her hood and glared like a snake about to strike. Shrugging and pulling the rabbits back to her chest, Starfire just barely managed to catch the one that had been balancing on her shoulder. It didn't seem at all disturbed by this, settling back into her arms with resignation. Eyes widening behind the mask and stifling a laugh, Robin suddenly connected the glazed looks with the rabbits' obedience.

Cyborg voiced the concern first. "Staaarfire…did you stun those bunnies?"

Her round eyes reflected genuine confusion. "Such an act is unacceptable behavior?"

Cyborg cringed, looking around to make sure none of the staff had heard the exchange. "Umm, guys, I think that's about enough Bunny Golf for one…" He risked a second glance at the unresponsive rabbits. "…eternity."

He scanned back over a particular section for the twenty-seventh time. There was something there, something he hadn't put together yet. Missed it again. Freck. He had software that could find whatever was embedded there, if he just knew what he was looking for. He just had to see it, to ignore what it was over and see what he needed to see. Reverse the video. Again. Eyes captured by what he didn't want to see and unable to catch what he did. Twenty-eight.

The next thing he was aware of was his cheek against the cool metal of his desk. He forced himself up with vexation, wondering if he'd have to remove his chair from the room in order to stay alert. If he had to stand, he couldn't possibly fall asleep…and anyway, the idea of sleeping while the video was playing was somehow too much to stomach. He coughed, squeezing one eye shut and then the other in hopes that that would make them stop burning. Stupid headache was back. It could not be normal to be sick for this long. At least Cyborg and Raven had stopped taking his temperature every thirty minutes. He had to—

A memory of earlier that evening made him pause. The last time he'd gotten distracted, he'd lost twenty minutes' worth of work. Who knew what he'd lose this time? As much as he didn't want to, he needed to do something about the headache, at least. It was making him negligent, sloppy—and that was unacceptable. Robin minimized the video, set the monitor to turn off after one minute of inactivity. He had painkillers in his room, and he wouldn't be gone long. Besides, he'd lock the door.

Practically speaking, he probably deserved the headache anyway, on top of everything else he deserved, but it was keeping him from doing his job and that was more important than penance…because that was something he wanted to do, and the only thing Robin was good for was fixing things, protecting the others from himself…

Once the door to his room slid open, he turned the light on and cringed. He needed to install a system that would adjust the brightness level. His desk was a mess—he hadn't had a chance to clean it since the others had finally stopped hanging around in his room—but that was superfluous. Hesitating, Robin took a deep breath and removed his mask, carefully avoiding the mirror. He liked the way the adhesive stung when he pulled it off, and it immediately improved the headache situation. He almost wished that he could avoid taking any drugs altogether, but that would require keeping the mask off, which he would not allow. He didn't like his eyes and he didn't want to see them because they reminded him and…

Robin opened the top drawer where he kept the small bottle of pills. He always tried not to use it, because Robin hated medication; it made him less alert, took that small fraction of control away from him. But he had no choice. He needed to get back to work, and quickly.

He swallowed three of them—water was for normal people—and carefully put the bottle away. One hand leaned against the corner of his desk, he rubbed the bridge of his nose and told himself that he'd just stand there for thirty seconds; thirty seconds and then he'd be better, then he'd be able to work for at least the rest of the evening. It annoyed him that he seemed to have lost all ability to go without sleep. He'd been able to last for four days before he got the flu. The area around his eyes always felt strange and exposed when he took the mask off. Sometimes, Robin could almost forget that he even had eyes at all, could tell himself that there was something else under the mask that somehow allowed him to see. Thirty seconds. He just needed thirty seconds…

"What the hell, Richard? What the goddamn hell."

A burst of energy that was somehow dark and bright at the same time made him stumble backward, jerking his head around to face the center of the room. He felt his eyes widen, mouth limp, hand falling away from his face of its own accord.

Raven, standing there as clearly as the disk that hovered a few inches in front of her, murderous expression on her face. "You've got ten seconds to give me a reason why I shouldn't smash this into a thousand pieces." She pointed to the disk with venom that could only indicate exactly which disk it was, and what she'd seen on it, and Robin just stared at her, completely unable to categorize what order of nightmare he'd fallen into.

He tried to make something come out of his mouth besides stammering, but there was a lump in his throat the size of an apple.

"…five, four, three…"

"Raven, don't!" He managed to choke out the plea, not even caring how desperate he sounded because right now he'd do anything just to get the disk out of her possession. Everything else he refused to devote energy to—everything else about why and how and humiliation and betrayal and none of that mattered as long as he could get the video back, because he had to. It was the only way to stop Slade. He had to have it back.

For a split second, it was Raven's turn to be speechless. But Raven was seldom speechless for very long, and this was no exception. "Don't? Don't what, Robin? Don't let you torture yourself with this sick stunt that you've somehow gotten yourself to believe you should be going along with?" The disk outlined itself in obsidian energy. "Your time's up. And I'm not convinced. I'm destroying this…"

Blood rushed to his ears, very unpleasantly, and his headache was fast returning with a vengeance. "Please, please just listen, just give me a minute—Raven, he's going to do something to someone!" He sounded like a five year old and he didn't care, just trying to get the words out so maybe some of them would make her drop the disk. He couldn't breathe.

"Enlighten me," Raven spat.

"Look, it's been altered, okay? He's embedded information in there—was sending me a message about what he's going to do if I can't figure out his plan." Her unwavering glare made him wish he could hide behind the desk. "Maybe you don't believe me, but Raven, I can't let anything happen to…" He swallowed with effort. "…I can't…I…"

His eyes stung and everything was quickly becoming blurry. Robin bit the inside of his cheek, trying to ground himself in the taste of blood, bringing up one hand to cover his eyes so he wouldn't have to… Something was wrong. Skin on skin, no cloth in the way like always. He—he wasn't—oh god.

The sharp intake of breath sounded like someone else; something else, a trapped animal. Hand still covering his face, Robin turned desperately towards his desk, looking down through the cracks in his fingers to figure out what he'd done with the mask. How could he not have realized, how could he have been this dumb, how many more mistakes was he going to make before everyone died because of him…?

Raven had been quiet through all of this—either that, or she hadn't been quiet and Robin just didn't have the mental energy to spare on listening to her—but once he got the black cloth over his eyes, his chest felt slightly less constricted, and he could at least attempt to focus on what she was saying. "…think about it, okay? You're tired, I'm tired, we both want to pretend the last fifteen minutes never happened—arguing about this at two in the morning isn't going to help."

"Wait...think about...what?" He gripped the desk so he'd have something to do with his hands, and because that kept them from shaking so much. Every breath he could force into his lungs made the stinging in his eyes slightly less insurmountable. He was okay. Maybe.

"Let me think about whether or not you can have this back," said Raven, indicating the disk that she'd still refused to touch. Her voice was quieter now, though still more resolute than he would have liked. "And let me tell you: if you so much as think about trying to rush my decision, this…thing is getting shattered."

"But I can't just let you take it!"

"Yeah, well I didn't ask your opinion." She closed her eyes briefly, and when she looked at him again, her expression was softer. "You have my word that I won't touch it without talking to you first. Okay?"

He considered it miserably. What choice did he have? And anyway, he was begging for the thing that he wanted destroyed more than anything in the world. This was so screwed up. "Okay," he whispered, staring at the wall behind Raven.

Raven took a step towards him, seemed to hesitate for half a moment, then extended her hand. "Shake on it?" The question was as tentative as Raven ever got.

For some reason, it immediately reminded him of Terra's welcoming party—he hadn't wanted to do it then and he certainly didn't want to do it now, but if it would keep Raven from destroying the disk, then he'd do it. And, really, how much worse did it have to be for her? Actually having to touch him when she knew... He accepted the handshake, briefly, so horrified by everything else that had happened that he didn't have any left to be horrified by the contact. It mostly just made him feel numb.

Immediately moving away to put distance between them, Raven let the disk drop into one of the pockets in her cloak. "Now. We both need to go to bed; we'll handle this later."

"I don't want to handle it." He felt the tears threatening to return, and he squeezed his eyes shut against them.

"I know," Raven said gently. "Just sleep." She turned and started towards the door.

"But Raven…"

"Sleep." The door shuddered closed with her on the other side of it.

Under normal circumstances, he'd never have listened to that, but her words made him feel as if he'd been given some shaky permission to be weak, and though it probably wasn't the right thing to do, he collapsed on the bed, not caring enough to change his clothes or even turn off the light. And anyway, if he was as uncomfortable as humanly possible, maybe it would make sleeping a little less wrong. His headache had spawned a whole new mutant breed of headache, and the stupid painkillers weren't helping—but that was good. He deserved that. Deserved it for being the worst leader in the history of the world: too stupid to even remember that Raven could phase through doors so of course what lock would keep her out. And too weak to keep his mask on just because his head hurt a little. And too pathetic to even convince Raven to give him the disk back, and now who knew what would happen…

His eyes were wetter than they should have been when he closed them.