Don't you hate it when you have something really amazing in mind for a chapter, and then you're writing it up and you realize it won't work for the story? I had such vision for this chapter. Such vision! Oh, well. It still turned out pretty well, but it could have been so much more!

Disclaimer: I don't own TT or The Forgotten Arm

This chapter is based on the song "Little Bombs." That is a seriously sad and pretty song.

Chapter Eight: Relapse

It had taken a week, but Robin's depression over Starfire had smoothed out, with no small thanks to Cyborg. While Robin still felt acutely distant from Star, thoughts of her were no longer clouding his ability to think straight, and especially after Cyborg had convinced Robin that she still cared about him, the pain confusing Robin's mind had dwindled to a small, though still powerful, ache. But along with the pain of that emotional blow receding, Robin found his attitude changing again, as well.

He was by no means denying how badly he missed Starfire, but was instead turning that feeling from a longing into a motivation. A motivation to find and finish Slade, a motivation to remain strong, a motivation to show Star, and the rest of the team, that he could succeed. The harder he worked- the faster he worked- the quicker he'd be on the road back to the Tower. The quicker he'd get to see Starfire again. And the quicker he could put all this behind him.

Robin began looking for more leads, talking to more possible witnesses. He planned each of his outings down to the minute, packing in as many stops a day as possible. At night he would fight off the drowsiness that threatened to consume him and would hunt down more and more obscure information on his computer, making connections between the most dissimilar pieces of data, and keeping everything stored under intricately organized -yet increasingly complicated- filing procedures.

Sometimes Cyborg's words would sneak their way into his thoughts. "…you don't need to do it on your own. That's why you have a team, Rob." And Robin would just shake his head and keep on working. Because to Robin, it had now become even more important that he prove himself strong, capable, and independent. That he prove he wasn't weak. That he prove he didn't need help.

It was eight days after Starfire had told Robin that she couldn't keep competing with Slade that Robin stood by the window of his apartment, adjusting the bandages on his hand and watching the horizon. It was only just eight in the evening, but as winter was approaching it had been getting darker earlier. The clouds hovering above the city had also started to become grayer, and Robin was sure it wouldn't be long before it began to rain- all the more reason to hurry up. Fitting his belt around his waist, Robin turned away from the window and crossed his small room, closing the door behind him and making his way to his motorcycle.

Once on the R-Cycle Robin made his way to an old warehouse. The warehouse, empty and unused for quite sometime, was located in an area of Coal City that saw almost no pedestrian traffic. Most inhabitants never passed through this part of the city at all; all that was there were factories from the days when manual labor was all Coal had to offer. Now Coal's employment structure had expanded to involve liquor, drugs, and other small-time crime, along with three or four moderately big names in the crime circuit. Most of these buildings had been cleared out years ago; all that remained were unpackaged boxes and cheap desks. Up until a few years ago a couple clever gangs and crime rings had used certain factories for their bases of operation. But even that trade was now abandoned, following a fire that took out over half the buildings. Now most of the remaining buildings were half-charred, dilapidated beyond repair. But there was one remaining warehouse that had been, miraculously, untouched by the fire. It was the largest of them, and stood toward the back of the area. It was this building that Robin now set his sights on.

Had Slade's status not been so up in the air, Robin knew he would have taken his team here long ago to search for the villain's whereabouts. After all, it was classic Slade: Huge, run-down building, empty and enshrouded in shadows, creepy if still unassuming to the untrained eye. A place no one in their right mind would want to be. But then again, Slade wasn't exactly in his right mind, was he?

Robin suppressed a flood of memories and a shiver of his spine as he got off his bike and put his helmet on the seat. This place, it reminded him so much of Slade. Both the building where the chronotron detonator supposedly was and each of Slade's past headquarters had looked strikingly similar. Robin tried to ignore the dust that rose into the air with every step he took as he walked towards the building.

The door, Robin found, was almost falling off its hinges, and whined loudly when he pushed it open. The window on the door was cracked, and shards of glass crunched under Robin's feet as he walked on.

Inside it felt several hours later than it did outside, the outcome of the building being almost windowless, except for a few skylights in the ceiling several stories up. But even these windows were caked in grime, emitting very little natural light, and Robin pulled out his flashlight, sweeping it around the bottom floor to get an idea of his surroundings.

The building was large, but seemed even bigger because there was nothing inside to break the area into smaller sections. A stairway sat in the middle of the building, the stairs made of the same grey metal as the walls. The floor was cement, and cobwebs covered every corner, as well as the few desks and boxes that sat against the cracked and peeling walls.

Robin frowned. He'd have to go farther in if he wanted to find what he was looking for. But that was the problem: Just as Cyborg had implied, Robin didn't really know what he was looking for. A cracked mask? A broken down Slade-bot? A stack of plans with Slade's name on it? Even though Robin knew much less about Slade than he would have liked to admit, he did know that Slade was much too smart and cautious to leave evidence like that lying around. But then, wasn't Slade too smart and cautious to leave any evidence lying around? Robin sighed, and immediately found it to be a bad idea as he inhaled a great lungful of dust and stale air, and began coughing hoarsely, trying to expel it. He brought up a gloved hand to cover his mouth before moving on.

Using the strong but small beam his flashlight produced, Robin walked slowly around the perimeter of the bottom floor. Stopping in front of one of the abandoned desks, Robin brought his hand away from his mouth to open one of the drawers. Inside, the plastic dividers of a filing cabinet sat in disuse, and a quick look showed that nothing was left of the files. The two drawers below that one had nothing in them, and Robin pushed each drawer shut before opening the remaining one above where the desk's owner would have sat. Robin felt a spark of hope when he spotted a small stack of papers amidst the dust and cobwebs, but found each page to be blank and yellowing. The cheap plastic pen on top of the papers had no markings on it.

The two other desks emitted the same results, and most of the boxes were empty, or were full of packing peanuts and nothing else. Remembering his luck, or lack thereof, with the desks, Robin was careful not to get his hopes up when he found two boxes that were still taped shut, and indeed they had nothing in them but paper and blank business cards. After checking the boxes to make sure there were no addresses on them, Robin turned and started towards the staircase.

Robin walked cautiously up the stairs, using his rising vantage point to get a better look at the bottom floor. Seeing there was nothing more to look at from higher up than there had been on ground lever, Robin continued on to the second floor quickly. This floor was even darker than the previous one had been, and Robin noticed that the already dim light from the skylights had become weaker. A quick sweep around the room showed that the layout here was almost identical to what he'd already seen; the desks and boxes produced the same disappointing results.

Robin put his hands on one of the desks and let his head hang down. So far this warehouse was just as disappointing as all the other places he'd checked out. Robin curled the fingers of his left hand and the little finger and thumb- the only fingers not bandaged- on his right hand, brushing them against the table. Little paths in the dust showed where his fingers had moved.

"I know he's out there," he said aloud, as if trying to convince himself. "But I can't find anything. I couldn't find anything in Jump, I can't find anything in Coal, and I can't find anything here."

Disappointing, Robin. I expected a little more from you.

Robin's head snapped up, but a look around the room showed no one there, and Robin quickly realized the voice had been in his head. He swallowed and walked back towards the stairs, going up to the third and top floor. Robin kept his pace steady, but his heart had jumped at that voice, and even though he knew Slade wasn't here- couldn't possibly be here- hearing those patronizing words and that pompous tone still made him take a quick look behind him.

Rounding the top of the stairs, Robin stopped walking when he looked up and saw the third floor. Unlike the previous levels, which had been most likely used for storage or labor, the top floor looked like it had been used for the business end of the spectrum. A large rectangular table sat in the center of the room, surrounded by chairs. Off to the left, six or seven tall grey filing cabinets stood against the walls. Robin noted that from where he stood, no light fixtures were visible. He bit his lip and walked towards the table.

The table was long and wide, large enough to be a conference table, and as there were no drawers, that was probably what it had been. The chairs were the sort to be found in a fancy office building, cushioned and of a dark red color, and set atop wheels. The chair at the head of the table, the side farthest from Robin, had armrests.

Robin walked along the side of the table, absently spinning one of the chairs as he passed. The chair emitted a soft squeaking noise, the only sound in the room other than that of Robin's shoes lightly tapping the floor. Although it was strange that a building that had been used as a factory should have furniture as nice as this, the table and chairs held no specific clues, and Robin turned towards the filing cabinets. Before he had taken even five steps he heard a squeak and the sound of scraping and Robin spun around, his hand already reaching for his bo-staff.

His flashlight caught the tail end of a rat as it scampered into a hole in the wall. At the same moment, he realized that had he needed to fight, he would have had to drop the flashlight from his left hand, as his right hand was still highly unusable. Robin let his right hand drop.

Too slow, Robin. You always were.

Again Robin whipped his head to the side, and again he made to grab his bo-staff. But like before, Robin hurriedly reassured himself that nothing was there. That no one was there. This time it took a little longer for Robin's breathing to return to normal.

The filing cabinets were huge; six of them, and each with five drawers. Robin started at one end, pulling each heavy drawer open, sweeping it over with his flashlight, and closing it again before moving onto the next drawer. It quickly became a redundant process, as each drawer yielded the same results: stale, dusty air, and nothing tangible. Robin was tempted to just move on, but he knew he would kick himself later for doing so. Opening the top four drawers of the fifth cabinet, Robin shoved each of them closed and moved to open the bottom drawer. The sound of something shifting inside it caught his attention, but he was careful not to get his hopes up. It wasn't until he had penetrated the dark void with his flashlight that his eyes caught on a pad of paper. No, not just a pad of paper- a pad of paper with something written on it.

Robin grabbed the pad, slammed the drawer shut, and focused his flashlight on the paper. A list stared back at him, written in a neat if slightly embellished hand. 4/16/03. 8/23/03. 5/23/04. 9/17/04. 10/14/04. 2/12/05. 11/1/05… The dates, as Robin assumed they were, meant nothing to him offhand, and after flipping through the pad and seeing the top page was the only one with writing on it, he ripped it off and folded it carefully, placing it in a pocket on his belt. Taking a hasty look through the final filing cabinet and seeing nothing was there, Robin straightened up and took a last look around the room. From over here something caught his eye.

On the wall across from him, from where it hadn't been noticeable from his vantage point earlier, Robin could see a door. Crossing the room, Robin pointed the flashlight at the doorknob and, seeing the thickness of the dust, assumed that this room hadn't been used any more recently than the desk or filing cabinets. Surprisingly, the door was unlocked, and Robin opened it slowly and took a step inside.

The room, just a tiny fraction of the size of the rest of the third floor, had a desk pressed up against the wall with just one chair. The desk was the same as the ones he had seen on the first floor, except for one major difference. On top of this desk was a computer.

The computer wasn't terribly old, but it wasn't by any means new. It was bigger than most computers, both because of the large screen and because it wasn't the flat variety that was popular with most people. It was a grey color, and the monitor, keyboard, and body of the computer all sat together on top of the desk.

Robin walked over and stood behind the chair, looking intently at the computer as if he could have turned it on just by staring at it. When that didn't work, he looked around on the monitor for an on switch. Finding a button beneath the screen, Robin held his breath and pressed.

Nothing happened.

Robin's eyebrows furrowed and he tried again, this time holding the button down for longer.

After a moment, a humming sound brought the computer to life.

Waiting with folded arms as the computer booted up, Robin swung his gaze around the rest of the little room. Like the rest of the building, there were no lighting fixtures here, and Robin wondered if there ever had been. He was getting a headache needing to rely on his flashlight, and he'd only been in the building for an hour. A pop-up box on the screen grabbed his attention.

INPUT PASSWORD

The words flashed on the screen, and underneath them a line was waiting to be filled with text. Robin frowned and placed his hand above the keyboard, searching his mind for possibilities. He knew the chances of his getting it right were nil to none, but he hadn't come all this way to go back home without at least giving it a shot. And if need be he could always take the computer back to Jump and use their computer in the Tower to crack the password.

"Coal," Robin spoke as he pressed the keys and hit the enter button.

INCORRECT

Aware that most computers gave three tries to give the correct password before locking down, Robin tried harder to think.

"Password." Other than a random grouping of numbers and letters, this was the password Robin came across most frequently.

INCORRECT

Frowning, Robin typed in a jumble of arbitrary digits.

g7n3didfn.

INCORRECT

INITIATING LOCKDOWN

As he had guessed, the computer was set up to shut off after three failed attempts. He sighed and made a mental note to come back here before he left for Jump so he could bring the computer with him. He was sure he'd have more luck with it at the Tower- after all, using advanced electrical equipment was usually a better bet than making up random passwords.

This is going to be easier than I thought. You've gotten sloppy while I was away.

This time Robin didn't turn around at all, just stood perfectly still, straining his ears to hear what he couldn't see. His heart was pumping fast again, but he refused to let his mind run away with him. He was sure of it: No one was there. Robin closed his eyes and took a deep breath, trying to calm himself, trying to convince himself he was the only one in the room, trying to remind himself that-

Brings back memories, doesn't it?

Robin's eyes flew open and he choked on his breath. Then, slowly at first, but picking up speed until he was almost running, Robin made his way out of the room, down the stairs to the first floor, and out of the building. Outside it had gotten dark, and was starting to drizzle a little. Robin got on his motorcycle, pulled his helmet on, and headed for his apartment.

TT

Riding through the streets of Coal, Robin tried to get his mind off of the factory he had just come from. The large, open, lightless spaces, the dust coating everything, the overwhelming lack of life… It was too much. It was too much a reminder of Slade. Robin tried to remind himself that that was why he had gone there in the first place, because it was so similar to Slade's old hideouts. But the logical part of Robin's mind pointed out that he hadn't needed to come at night.

Robin made a sharp left and continued on.

He really needed to start listening to that voice more often.

When he reached the apartment building Robin parked his motorcycle outside and pulled off his helmet as he walked inside. The stairwells were empty, and as always, freezing cold because of the lack of heating. Robin shivered as he walked up the stairs, and slammed the door shut behind him when he reached his room. Quickly, he turned on the standing light in the corner of the room, the only light in the place since the light in the bathroom had burned out a week and a half ago. He sat down on his bed, pulling his shoes off and then taking off his cape, gloves, and belt. When those things were lying in a heap on the floor, Robin stood up and went into the bathroom. By the time he was finished showering and brushing his teeth, the drizzle outside had become a heavy rain.

Robin pulled on a pair of black sweatpants and, making sure his mask was still in place, turned out the light and got into bed.

Between the rain outside, the draft from the window, and the absence of heating, the air in the room was frigid, and Robin pulled the covers up over his bare chest and arms. He lay still on his back, staring at the ceiling and listening to the rain outside. A clap of thunder made him bite his lip, and Robin turned to his side, gazing into the darkness at where he knew his communicator was lying on the table. Ever since the dust, he'd hated the rain. Not to mention, the dark.

But that was silly, wasn't it? Robin nodded. It was pointless to be scared of the rain or the dark, because he knew Slade was no more likely to show up now than at any other time, or during any other dark, rainy night, for that matter. Yes, Robin assured himself. It was silly to be scared.

Rolling over and facing the wall, Robin closed his eyes and willed himself to sleep.

TT

He is standing in a room filled with darkness. He doesn't know where he is or how he got here, but he somehow knows there is no way out. And though he is fully clothed, he feels shockingly cold. And surprisingly, his thoughts are not on escape, but on her. On her and on the cold.

Then he hears a voice.

"Hello, Robin."

Robin clenches his fists. "Slade."

"Well, aren't we the observant one."

"What do you want, Slade?" Robin turns around, trying to place the voice, but the absence of light throws off his senses, the chill penetrating his skin distracts him, and the voice seems to be coming from everywhere and nowhere all at once. His thoughts of her are slipping away, and he tries fruitlessly to hold onto them as his attention is pulled fully to the voice of his arch nemesis and to the cold that is freezing his spine.

"I would think that obvious."

"What do you mean?" He is so cold.

And then a shaft of light drops down, illuminating Robin. And he knows why he feels like ice.

Where his Titans uniform should be, a suit of black and copper sits like a second skin. An "S" lies over his heart. It sends a heart-stopping chill through his body.

Robin gasps and grabs the breast plate, trying in vain to pull it off. But the suit is melded to his skin, unmovable. The harder he tries to pry it off, the faster it holds to his body. He sinks to his knees as he attempts to remove the vile outfit, and Slade speaks again.

"Don't you remember, Robin?"

"Our deal is off, Slade!" Robin can no longer feel his fingers, he has become so cold. "My friends are safe!"

"Your friends?"

He can no longer feel his legs.

"Robin, that deal was over long ago."

His torso.

"Your friends are in no danger."

His arms.

"Then why am I here!" He tries with all his might to remember what her eyes look like.

"Because, Robin." Slade's presence fills the room. "You chose to be."

TT

"No!"

Robin shot up in bed. His breathing was ragged and sweat had soaked through the sheets, and he looked around wildly, looking for anyone hiding in the darkness. Slade's last words rang through his head like a bell, and Robin pulled his knees to his chest and tried to take deep breaths and calm his heart.

You chose to be.

Robin swallowed, his mouth dry, and tried to reassure himself.

It was only a dream. Only a nightmare.

It'd been over a month since his last nightmare. And he'd never woken to find himself alone. His eyes fell on his communicator, lying impassively on the bedside table. He reached out for it, was about to grab it, and dropped his hand.

Robin lay back down and turned towards the wall. He could feel his communicator behind him, watching him, staring at him. But this was a test. And if he passed he'd prove himself strong.

This was a test.

He couldn't call them.

He couldn't fail.