Flip Turn

Chapter Eleven: Consequences

"So, wait, Bruce Wayne is coaching these guys? Is this a joke?"

"I dunno, Grant, but they sure are…small."

Grant laughed. "We are talking about Bruce I-Have-So-Many-Golds-it-Shouldn't-Be-Legal Wayne, right? Because, I mean, yeah, I see him sitting over there, but somehow my brain just doesn't believe it. Man." He shook his head, eyes glittering with false sympathy. "He must've gotten hurt bad, to be bored enough and desperate enough to waste his time on those losers." Turning his attention to Robin, Grant stooped to look him in the eyes, continuing in a high-pitched voice that some people used when they talked to puppies. "Hey, shortie, what happened to your coach, huh? Shoulder? Back? Or are you so stupid that you don't even know?"

Robin didn't like the way he was talking, and something told him that there was probably no right answer to the questions, but he clenched his hands into fists and met the big boy's eyes evenly. "He didn't get hurt."

"Hey! I know who you are!" The eyes widened with surprise, recognition. "You're that little kid he took in a few years back. Funny, I always thought Wayne was smart. Never expected him to give up being a legend so he could wipe four-year-olds' noses."

And that's what he'd done, wasn't it—even though Robin was seven, now, and could definitely wipe his own nose, that wasn't important. Bruce should be training, should be doing what he actually wanted to do, and instead he was wasting his time hoping that Robin would stop failing. But he'd never stop failing.

A long, black braid obscured Robin's view of Grant, Jade stepping in front of him with her hands on her hips. "You sure are ugly," she said.

Another harsh laugh. "Didn't your mommy tell you not to speak unless you're spoken to?"

Jade shook her head. "No, my mommy told me that all boys are mean and some of them are ugly. So I thought I'd let you know that you were one of the ugly ones."

Grant's blue eyes flashed with something dangerous, and Robin's heart beat faster as he tried to convince himself to help Jade—because he was pretty sure that even though she had a green belt, she wouldn't be able to protect herself from someone more than twice her size. Of course, Robin didn't exactly know what he was going to do about it, either, but he had to do something because he couldn't just let Grant hurt her. He opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out, and he couldn't get a breath of air, and Grant was striding towards Jade, calling her something that Robin wasn't allowed to say and—

Except, Bruce was more than twice Grant's size, and when he closed his hand around his forearm to pull it away from Jade, Robin felt his shoulders relax. "Is there a problem?" he asked, voice deep and serious as he dropped the arm.

Grant looked kind of like a leftover balloon that had been lying around a few days so it sagged a little. "No," he muttered quickly, not meeting Bruce's eyes.

"Good," said Bruce. "Then maybe you should find your way back to the rest of your team. And consider cleaning up your language." It wasn't a suggestion—if anyone else had said it, it would have been, but not from him. He gave the big boy another long look, then he was asking Jade if she was alright; Jade said that she was hungry and needed to go buy some food. He didn't say anything to Robin.

After glancing over to make sure Bruce wasn't looking, Grant casually shoved Robin as he walked by—it could have been an accident, but Robin didn't think it was. "See you later, mistake," he muttered, the words jumbled around a cough. Robin didn't know whose mistake he was supposed to be, but whatever it was, it made him feel like an elephant was sitting on his chest.

Robin didn't want it to be an away meet. He liked his pool, he was used to it now, and this one had huge, black starting blocks that had two steps instead of one, and even though he knew how to dive, he still didn't like being up that high when he had to go in headfirst. If he fell off, he'd break his arm. Or his neck. At least then, Bruce wouldn't be able to make him swim.

Probably.

After he tried to tell Bruce that he didn't want to swim this week, they'd had a talk. Several of them, actually, the most recent in the car on the way to the pool, when Bruce had told him that any sort of poor behavior tonight would be absolutely unacceptable. When he'd parked the car, he didn't let Robin get out right away, made him look in his eyes and say that he understood. Bruce made Robin look at him a lot, probably because Robin was really bad at lying, especially when people looked at his eyes. In the car, Robin hadn't even bothered trying to look away. It never did any good. He'd just promised. Twice.

And if he broke his promise, there would be "consequences." Lots of them. Robin never broke rules, so he didn't really know what that meant even though he knew the word. He didn't want to find out, either.

So he wasn't going to be bad, he wasn't, but it was hard to remember to be good when Bruce was talking to Raven with one hand on her shoulder, and the only time Bruce had touched Robin in the past week was to make him look at him, and that was scary and he hated it.

Bruce wanted Raven to swim because she was probably really good except for being afraid to put her face in the water—and it had never been okay when Robin was afraid of something, so why could Raven get her way just because she cried?

Robin turned away from them and walked back to his seat, checking to make sure that Grant had actually gone back to the other team's side of the tennis court (it was really stupid to make them all sit on a tennis court, anyway; there wasn't enough space—why was this an away meet?). He swallowed the lump in his throat so it slid back into his stomach where it belonged. He didn't want to swim, and the only thing that was making him was consequences.

If Bruce liked Raven better now, what was the point?

Coach Slade did have a scary eye.

He hadn't really worried about it earlier this week, when the other kids had been talking, but Kitten and Roy had been right—and it was the wrong color and it never looked the right way, and sometimes the real eye would turn in a completely different direction from the fake one…he shuddered and looked down at his index card, well, their card, really, since it was the freestyle relay, but Robin didn't trust anyone else to keep track of it. Especially not Gar, who'd probably make it sticky from the candy that he was eating.

"You're really not supposed to eat that, you know," he pointed out, indicating the bright green bag.

Gar shrugged. "Coach isn't the boss of me."

"Actually, he kinda is, at least as long as you're here," said Robin. Of course, Robin had to listen to Bruce all the time, whether he was swimming or not, even though Bruce never listened to him. Even though Bruce didn't even like him anymore.

"I'm sneaky; he won't find out." Gar giggled, offering Robin the bag. "You want some?"

"No, thanks," he said. Robin always followed the rules. He liked rules because then you knew what you had to do to be good, and as long as you did it you weren't in trouble.

A heavy, cold hand on his shoulder made Robin freeze. He turned slowly, not really wanting to see but making himself do it anyway, and found himself looking way, way up at Coach Slade.

"Ah, Robin," he said, his voice sounding friendly and yet at the same time not friendly at all. "I wonder if I might have a word?"

He didn't think most coaches would know the name of every swimmer on the other team. That thought made him feel kind of cold. "I—I have to swim in a minute, sir," Robin heard himself saying, jerking his hand in the direction of Wally and Billy and Gar, as if that would make the man believe him.

Nodding gravely, Coach Slade smiled, but it was all wrong, it was bad, it wasn't a real smile and it was somehow worse than a frown. "Of course. I promise not to exhaust an inordinate amount of your time, my boy."

Coach Slade was big, as big as Bruce, even, and Robin wasn't used to that. His hair was so blond it was almost white, though Robin didn't think that he looked old enough to have white hair. A metal whistle hung around his neck and—Robin shuddered—he had one blue eye and one gold, the gold one not quite looking real, except it seemed to stare through him in a way that the real one never could, and Robin couldn't stop thinking about what Kitten had said to Terra last Monday, "…It's way creepy. It might scare six-year-olds like you."

Robin was seven, and he shouldn't be scared, but he was. He bit his lip, nodded, and followed Coach Slade through the gate to the baby pool.

It wasn't that far away from the crowd, but a big umbrella kept them out of sight, and for some reason that made him nervous. For some reason, he wanted people to be able to see him. So they would know if…if…Robin focused on the little, plastic cover that had been stretched over the baby pool, pretending to be very interested in it until Coach Slade spoke.

"I trust you've found your first season of swimming to be rewarding?"

Robin shrugged. "It's been okay."

"And you have one more event remaining this evening, correct?" Slade's fake eye was looking right through him again.

"Umm, yeah, fr—free relay."

"Excellent," said Coach Slade. "Might I offer some advice, dear boy? I shouldn't wish for an innocent child such as yourself to have to experience any unnecessary…unpleasantness."

The word was ominous and hostile, like 'consequences,' only worse. Robin took a step away from Coach Slade, but it found him deeper in the shadow of the umbrella, and it had already gotten dark and the big man's eye almost seemed to glow and he couldn't stop looking at it even though staring was rude…

Coach Slade didn't wait too long for an answer, just continued without really giving Robin a chance to say whether or not he wanted the advice. "Such a pity, about your parents." He sighed and shook his head. "And you…tragic, really, to already have such disgrace on so young a head."

Icy fingers clutched around Robin's heart. He didn't talk about Mom and Dad, hadn't ever told any of the kids, even though Starfire had asked once and Terra wouldn't stop asking. Had tried to shove it away until he couldn't remember the weekend when they'd gone skiing and he was staying with Bruce and Alfred (mostly Alfred…Bruce wasn't a very good babysitter back then), and they were supposed to be back on Monday, except on Saturday there had been a phone call and then nobody would tell Robin what happened for awhile, but Robin saw how hard Bruce was trying not to cry—and then he'd known.

He swallowed the lump in his throat. "Disgrace, sir?" There was no disgrace, just a sudden storm and a broken neck and help that couldn't get there in time…

But the look in Coach Slade's real eye said otherwise. "Oh, of course, he wouldn't have told you." He sighed and shook his head, crouching down so he was level with Robin's face, voice so quiet that Robin was forced not to back away so he could still hear. "I was right to caution you, then. Robin, I have a vested interest in your reputation, and I fear that if you won tonight's race, the consequences might be quite serious indeed."

Robin narrowed his eyes, trying to understand. "Why would it be bad if my team won?"

"Oh, by all means, Robin, please, do win! After all, I should have foreseen that so dedicated and formidable an athlete as yourself would consider victory paramount. Any other details could only be considered extraneous."

It was hard to understand what he'd said because of all the big words—Bruce used big words all the time, but he usually explained what they meant. "What kind of details, sir?" He took a step away and stumbled, grabbing the plastic table so he wouldn't fall.

Coach Slade straightened up, waving a hand as he started towards the gate. "Details that I'm certain your guardian would find most inappropriate for me to disclose to you." He paused, turning around to fix the eye on Robin, and behind that little ball of glass there was an empty hole, just like a skeleton, and Robin tightened his grip on the table. "Perhaps when you're older," the man chided.

"But—"

"You mustn't ask so many questions, Robin, or you'll miss your race. And speaking of the race, do attempt to remember my advice. We wouldn't want any ghosts of the past turning up to plague the memories of John and Mary, now would we?"

And then he was gone, the gate clanging shut behind him, and Robin's hands wouldn't stop shaking, not even when Gar started rattling on the fence from outside in the grass, yelling that he had to come back right now or they were going to miss the race. Robin stumbled through the gate and found his way back to the other boys. For some reason, it took him a minute to remember why he was supposed to be swimming a race, and a minute after that to remember that it was freestyle. At least, he was pretty sure it was freestyle. Robin's stomach hurt.

"What'd the weirdo say to you?"

"Nothing."

"You look like it was something."

"It's not important, Wally, just leave me alone!"

Wally frowned, forehead wrinkling. "You okay? Want me to go tell coach that you can't swim?"

His heart beat faster and he shook his head quickly. "No, don't. I'm going to swim." Bruce wouldn't let him scratch, anyway, not for something stupid like a stomachache—but of course, maybe he didn't really care one way or the other, because Raven had already finished her race and he liked her better now… Robin had to swim. He had to prove he was still good for something.

"Okaaay," Wally said doubtfully as they stood up together. "Umm, Robin?"

"What, Wally?" he snapped.

"You're supposed to, umm, be going that way." He pointed to the other end of the pool. "Me an' Billy start from this end. …Remember?"

Robin glared at him and hurried to catch up with Gar on the other side. It had only taken two seconds and he'd already screwed up.

He barely made it to their lane, and the timer gave him an exasperated look as she motioned for him to stand behind Gar—even though Robin knew he was going last, obviously. Trying to make himself breathe, he half-listened to the starter announce that this was event number seventy-two, which Robin already knew because he'd seen Bruce's heat sheets so many times he had them memorized. His gaze unwillingly fell on Coach Slade, who had a little girl on his lap. She had a round face and the same almost-white hair as Coach Slade. She looked really like him, except she had two blue eyes, and Slade only had one, and the fake eye was just staring at him, watching him…

Somebody poked him, and Robin jumped, fully expecting to find Slade looking down at him, except it was just Gar, who was waving a hand in his face. "Hellooo? Earth to Robin? I'm about to swim now—are you gonna be able to remember to go when it's your turn?"

Feeling his face burn, Robin nodded curtly, looking to their lane and realizing that he hadn't even heard the signal to start, that Wally was already almost finished with his lap—he was always first; Bruce said that he did it that way because the signal made Robin nervous, even though that wasn't true. And then as Wally touched the wall, ahead of everyone else in the heat, Gar did something that was somehow a dive, a jump and falling in the water all at once, and disappeared under the surface.

Even though Gar wasn't very fast, he got to the other end much too quickly, because Robin wanted to slow down time so he'd never have to swim, or at least so he'd be able to wait until he was ready, and he wasn't ready now with that dead eye still staring at him. But Billy was diving into the water no matter how much Robin didn't want him to, his kick haphazard and over-zealous, churning up the water in a way that made Robin want to make him do it right. Except, it didn't matter. Robin could have the best freestyle kick in the universe, and Bruce would still like Raven better.

Maybe it didn't even matter how good he was. Maybe Bruce just…liked Raven better.

Robin didn't have time to think about it anymore, though, because Billy was at the wall, and he didn't want them to think he hadn't been paying attention, and he was pretty sure his hand had touched, so he dove, even though what he really wanted to do was throw up.

The water was hot, way too hot, and the boy in the lane next to him had a five yard lead, but Robin caught up quickly because he just wanted out of the water, just wanted to get away from consequences and unpleasantness and glowing, gold eyes. Robin was never happy when he raced. Sometimes he liked practice, but swim meets made him sick, and he thought about it too much and couldn't keep his mind in the pool where he needed to keep it—and if he didn't get to that wall first, Bruce was going to be so mad at him; well, he was already mad but it would be worse, and the water felt thick and syrupy as he dragged his hands through it again and again.

Robin did get to the wall first, just in front of the boy who'd been in front of him at the beginning of the lap. He pulled off his goggles and started to climb out of the pool, but a gentle tap on his shoulder stopped him and he turned to face the boy who'd come in second, who smiled and offered his hand. Robin reached awkwardly across the water and shook it, hesitant because he didn't really like touching people, especially people he didn't know, and he was glad when the boy released him and he could get out of the water.

"That's Joey," said a girl with curly black hair and a British accent, her shoulders dripping wet—she must have been on the other team's relay. "He used to be able to talk but he can't anymore, so now he talks with his hands."

Robin knew some sign language but didn't want to talk to Joey at all, didn't want to talk to anyone, so he offered a tense nod and looked away.

But he had to talk to the man in the white polo shirt with a headset in his ear who stopped him and Gar before they could leave the blocks and said, "Boys, you did a really good job."

Robin's mouth was already dry. Getting stopped by a Stroke and Turn judge never meant that you did a really good job, and you'd be an idiot to believe them—it meant that you were disqualified because you'd done something wrong, and at that moment, all he wanted to do was fall through the pool deck.

"…When you're swimming a relay, next time try to make sure that you wait until the person in front of you touches the wall, okay?"

Gar shrugged. Robin nodded because there wasn't anything to say that would excuse him—and anyway, he was pretty sure that he wouldn't have been able to say something if he tried, since the judge's eyes were squarely on him, not even flickering towards any of the others.

And it was his fault, it was all his fault because he knew what a false start, was, he knew, and he should have made sure that Billy's hand had really touched the wall, but he hadn't, he'd failed, and now everybody was going to be mad at him and—

Behind the judge, Robin saw Slade watching him evenly, the eye slicing him open where it could see every awful disappointment that Robin wanted to hide away forever. Slade smiled a thin, satisfied smile. But as terrifying as that was, he couldn't think about it anymore when Bruce pointed sharply at Robin and then the ground in front of him, finger stiff and rigid, and then Robin really wanted to throw up.

"What did I say to you?"

He'd had to wait until the big kids had finished their relays before Bruce would talk to him. Robin had stood behind him with the sickening knowledge that he was in trouble, knowing that every finished race brought him closer to the actual trouble. After the last event, Bruce had calmly gotten up and started over to a depopulated corner of the pool, the look he gave Robin telling him that if he didn't follow, everything would be a lot worse.

Robin studied a crack in the cement. "You said—"

Hands on his face. Bruce sharply pulling a plastic chair over so he could meet Robin's eyes. "Robin John Grayson, look at me when I'm talking to you."

He cringed, and made himself look, biting his lip because he didn't trust himself to speak.

"What did I say to you about how you were to behave tonight?"

"Y—you said that I was s'posed to be good. And swim. And help the team," Robin whispered.

"And did you do those things?"

He knitted his fingers together fitfully. "I…I tr—tried."

"I don't exactly file cheating under trying to help the team, Robin." Bruce's eyes were dark and angry, angrier than he'd ever seen him look at Robin, so angry that it didn't even matter that he thought Robin had cheated, because there was nothing he could do to make it better—nothing.

The backs of his eyes stung, and he was cold, and all he wanted to do was find a place to hide where he wouldn't have to see how much Bruce hated him. "I—I'm sorry—I didn't—I just—" He hiccupped and couldn't say anything else.

"Robin, I know you heard me when I said that disagreements between us were not to affect the team. What you did tonight hurt not only yourself, but three other people, to whom you are going to apologize before you leave this pool. You have got to learn that you can't behave poorly just because you have a problem which you refuse to verbalize. That's selfishness, and I will not tolerate it. Are you listening to me, Robin?"

He was listening. He was listening as he felt the tears that threatened to prove that he was selfish and weak, and Robin wasn't going to cry here, he wasn't—but if he didn't want to do that, he'd have to get away fast.

So he said the only thing on his mind, the thing he'd wanted to say since Friday when Bruce had hugged Raven, the thing that he wished desperately were true, because then it wouldn't hurt so much that Bruce didn't love him. "I hate you, you know that? I hate you—I hate you!"

Wrenching himself away from Bruce's hands, suddenly loose enough that he was able to get out of them, he clenched his fists tightly at his sides, a lump in his throat the size of a watermelon. And he ran. He ran, and he didn't even care that you weren't allowed to run on the pool deck, because he was already in enough trouble for the entire Titans swim team so one extra bit wouldn't make that much difference. Robin didn't stop till he'd flung open the door of the boys' bathroom, stumbled into the third shower and collapsed onto the tiles.

It was cold and he didn't have any idea where his towel was, but he was too tired to turn on the water—that would mean he'd have to get up—so he just dropped his head into his knees and cried for a long time. He couldn't remember crying this much since Alfred had made him sit on the couch, arm around his shoulders, and told him why Mom and Dad were never coming back.

Except, this time, Robin just wanted to know why Bruce didn't love him anymore, and nobody was going to tell him.