Chapter 12: The Path Already Taken
Step forward.
Left arm punch.
Right arm punch.
Dodge and duck.
Step back.
Repeat.
After several reps, Robin wiped the sweat from his face with his forearm, his bare chest still glistening with his effort. Gloveless, shoeless, and beltless, all that remained were his green, spandex pants and bandages that wrapped his hands and feet as he began again to deliver punches and kicks to the helpless punching bag.
In frustration, he released a punch that sent the bag swinging wildly, his head and shoulders bobbing as to perfectly execute a series of sidesteps to evade being hit. His motions were like a dance to a song that only he could hear, his footwork and movements flowing into the next seamlessly. The momentum of the bag slowed as he stepped up again to raise both of his fists, rotating them so the bag was continuously bludgeoned.
While his breath left him at a steady pace, the rhythm of his swings led his mind down many paths.
Like how much paperwork was needed to be done on the latest Mumbo case. Or what he was going to discuss with Bruce during Christmas dinner this year. Or wondering how it must have felt for Starfire when her lips met Speedy's. How it must have been nice to forget him completely and move on past him so quickly.
He stopped abruptly then, his hands facing palms out as to steady the swinging bag in front of him. With it now still, he placed his forehead against the bag, trying to calm his now ragged breathing that had nothing to with his exercising.
He had heard so many rumors. Some raunchier and crazier than others. All of them heard indirectly, of course, or whispered in corners that the others thought he couldn't hear. All had one common thread: a kiss. The initiator of that said kiss was still in great debate but it didn't matter.
It confirmed everything Robin had suspected.
At first, he didn't want to believe it.
He had fluctuated to and from disbelief and anger and despair and back again. Who wants to believe that the person they love is with someone else? After more than a year of being together and only a month of being apart? Surely, it was another blown up rumor that would work itself to be false, like the time it was suspected that Hotspot was a double agent or that Beast Boy's green skin was due to his poor hygiene. While some were more serious than others, all were planted by none other than his good friend Kid Flash and then spread like folklore by the Network. This time would assuredly have to be the same. But one look at Raven told another story.
Entering the common room not long after the night of the party, she gave him a sympathetic look, one that was rarely bestowed, and he brushed her off as she tried to become both an empath and the residential therapist to dive into his head. Meanwhile, Beast Boy avoided him like the plague and Cyborg tried to offer a variety of distractions, from GameStation to basketball to a ride to the park. Their responses dashed the hope out of him.
That night at the Network gathering had rekindled some semblance of his old self, giving him something to at least grasp at. So many signals picked up that led to Speedy but so many that were dropped that made him think he at least had a chance. Her smile, a light that permeated her being as they spoke about mundane topics. The grip on the back of his neck as they danced and involuntary flex as her fingers started to weave into his hair. Her giggles as they watched the other Titans surf and he had asked her to come back to the Tower, really back to him.
She hadn't said no. Yeah, there had been some convincing, and, yes, they had a small argument about it but she hadn't said no. If she really felt nothing, it should have been easy to turn him down. She wouldn't have hugged him. She wouldn't have reacted at all as he saw her glance around the room to see where he was. And she sure as hell wouldn't have looked at him as if there was an easiness still there, a secret that they only shared.
He didn't want to give up. He wasn't sure if he could. As anyone on his team could attest to, he got fixated on things to a fault. He had messed up. He could own up to it. He would. But to do that while she was so far away while respecting her space? When it came to solving that problem, his mind came up blank.
Shoving the bag away from him, he retreated to grab his discarded garments and shoes. He exhaustedly plopped backward on the padded mat, puffing as he went to pull on his socks first.
So many question marks for him and blanks to fill. His mind was too consumed with her and he knew it. Paperwork was stacking up. Reports needed to be filled out. Evidence needed to be filed with the police department and training to be conducted and on and on. Duty over heart. Always.
"Must we always be heroes? Are we capable of nothing else? Can we not, for a few moments, be something...more?"
That conversation on the roof in Tokyo sprung to his mind now, he giving anything to go back to that moment and tell her a few moments would never be enough. Especially now that were none to give. That it should have been forever.
Nothing about their relationship had been easy. The beginning, middle, or the end.
Everything leading up to their official relationship had been a struggle on his side: feelings fumbled only after a near-death experience on an alien planet, a valiant, almost failed attempt to foil an arranged marriage, his fixation on Slade, being told to shut up and kiss her for the first time, etc. And it had only got harder after. Cultural differences, misunderstandings, and sex. Batfamily obligations. Jason. And in the end, he had walked out on her, the fight leaving him.
Some hero.
He shook his head.
Everything in its place except his cape, he stood and slung it over his shoulders, clicking it into place. Limping from exhaustion to the wall and snapping the lights off, he was shrouded, his outline shining in the doorway the only light. With nothing but time to overestimate his mistakes and ponder what the future held for him, he walked out, planning his next move.
In the glow of the hallway light, Starfire waited as Speedy stooped a little to kiss her goodnight after their movie night. A silly grin on his face, he gave a slight bow, saying, "Goodnight, princess."
"Pleasant shlorvax," she said in return as she stepped through the door, peeking out and waving. He stood there as the door slid, him leaning so his face followed her as the door finally closed.
Finally able to breathe, her back against the shut door and hand on her fluttering chest, she stepped forward only to flop onto her bed. She turned her face into the comforter, a smile refusing to leave her features.
Everything felt new and exciting again.
About to drift off to slumber and hoping to dream about a particular masked man, her communicator buzzed. She yawned, intrigued as to who could be calling or texting at this hour. She reached for her belt and clicked it open.
Robin.
