Author's worried/apology note:

Okay guys, since I know none of you actually read the last chapter, here's a recap: Robin's back at the tower, kind of wastes some time trying to figure out how to get inside and ends up collapsing, only to have hallucinations of Slade when Raven finds him and then ends up apologizing to Slade. Later, he wakes up to Raven who he feels is suspicious, a worried Jinx, and then Starfire, who is very eager to see him.

Can't say I blame anyone for not reading. That was a wordy chapter. Probably, if it hadn't been mine, I wouldn't have read it either. Still, though. How bout a little love on this one? Personally, I hope you do read this chapter as I tried to make it more action oriented and less lengthy paragraphs and I do hope that you enjoy it better.

I'd appreciate comments and suggestions and the like. Maybe something to know you're not all completely comatose, though in a time of holiday craziness, I get it.

Oh, shit, I have to recap what I wrote right there! Okay—R and R, make it rain, hoe.

Um, not that last part. That's for me, if ya know what I mean ;)

Yes that's right: I'm going to try to survive the first night at Freddy's cause I FUCKIN SUCK AT THAT GAME!

Wish my ass luck ~Rick

Update: I died.

"This isn't really—really necessary, is it?" I heard my voice speak, though from where I lay, it seemed to be more disconnected than anything else. I'm not sure I even meant the words I said, or at least, cared for why ever I had said them, or the consequences those words might bring. It wasn't as if it would change anything, and I knew that instantly, but maybe, in some way, whatever I was saying was obligatory—now about as obligatory as keeping my mask on when Slade had wanted me to take it off. I didn't want to do either—but I felt I needed to, just as now, I didn't want to struggle, didn't want to fight, but seemed to recognize in some way that if I did not I would be slipping further into my strange delusions, my depth of failure, further discrediting myself as a hero, and, in consideration to everything else, this seemed to have a deadening power against me, a certain seriousness about it that even I could not deny in my struggles against anything else what might be more easily solved and deterred against my ideas of weakness. It was as if, which each passing moment of that weakness I showed, I was slowly chipping away at the statue of this hero I'd created, the Robin who would have scoffed now and before. And it was quickly seeming that with one more stupid mistake, or, even simply some defiance or lack thereof would make the statue come tumbling down as a crucial supporting piece was ripped cruelly away.

Luckily at least, I was a little more awake now, though in many ways it would have probably been better just to have gone to sleep and stayed there for a distant eternity. In sleep, they could not question me as to where I had been or what I had done there, or what my motives were in any case, as they I imagined they'd to be so intent to do now. I wished that I had not allowed myself rise as I had, but had I gone back to sleep, I'd be giving into that which would discredit whatever was left of my image I seemed to care so much about. But honestly, when I think back on it, either way, I was pretty well screwed, and either way, it seemed, would end up slashing myself down somehow. I could only end up digging a deeper hole in the face of my friends in wakefulness, but in sleep I would lose whatever respect they'd had right off, so in the end, in leading to my demise, it seemed it just depended whether or not I wanted to work for it or not. And again, it seemed unheroic to lazily accept it coming, as if I had been fighting a sworn enemy and had just given up and allowed myself to die when I knew fighting was fruitless—if that had been the case, they'd call me a coward, so might as well spend the last hours of my life struggling and cursing myself that I was not good enough, right? At least, that was the code of the hero I was beginning to thoroughly regret accepting in a more naïve time.

And in wakefulness, there was something else less than desirable—rising dread. Now, you'd think that having fallen asleep in my enemy's arms, having woken to that, would have been the instance to draw me out of warm sleep and slowly, surely, fill me with a sense of terror to increase incrementally as I woke up, rising with my conscious. But it hadn't—it had been this waking that had been worse. At first, obviously, it hadn't been so bad—a dreary lingering within the realms of sleep still that couldn't be penetrated by any logic of anything, any alarm, any reality. And I could linger there, for a while, at least. But I think the moment the girl I had loved, the girl who had put me in that state in the first place—the moment that girl entered my world again, I could no longer pass off my duties into sleep. She had been the reason I had come back, left that warmth, and there she was, first standing in the doorway, and then—then her arms joyfully wrapped around my neck as she embraced me. There she was; the girl I had come to talk to, the girl who had caused me to make myself weak, caused me to shrivel, caused me to flee and maybe—just maybe, though again, if I was thinking like this yet, it was not frontward—dabble in some kind of evil. I can't say that I had been resolved in anyway when I decided to come back, or had a stern outlook on anything in regards to her when I made my way back here, because if anything, I was encompassed by wondering neutrality, but I still could not help but feel somehow slighted, and taken down by her appearance in some fashion; as if, even if I'd had resolution to chew her out, seeing her would render me more like a puppy than anything else, and make such an act feel impossible to such a pretty, sweet looking girl.

That is—could I be mad at her when she'd come into the room, beaming, sparkling, with bright young eyes she only seemed to sport so beautifully, wearing the necklace I'd given her, and then running to me, running to me as she had before I had slipped? Seeing her almost made me have to recall what I was angry about, and wonder if I was angry. And…

It made ideas that she could like some other kid more than me, some second class superhero to me, when, as she embraced me, I could feel her rubbing her breasts against my chest, could feel myself embracing her in the most sensitive of areas and thought—yeah, this is how it's supposed to be—see, everything's okay, and it made those ideas more far off than anything else.

But that would have been too simple, and as a general rule, I didn't do simple. In simple you missed too many things, and too many details slipped through your fingers—and, already slipping, that was the last thing I needed. Not even quite registering with me now, as I was still perhaps out of it and had definitely more important, more immediate things to deal with, I thought very little of wondering if what she was showing me was genuine, or if it was, and there was something more that was real, more real than this. But soon I would. It wasn't as if I was the type of person just to ignore the obvious problems in what should be an important relationship, at least, not anymore, not with the Titans. I had done that with my old partner and wouldn't do it again. Maybe hurt by that, and that memory, I could often be over thorough in examining who I surrounded myself with, maybe too much. Ever heard the saying ignorance is bliss?—well, I had none of that, neither. No ignorance or bliss. That wasn't who I could allow myself to be, even now, even in this time of dimming and slipping, when it seemed that much more important to uphold who I thought and wished I was.

But now, I thought little of that—too little, but what could you expect? Because, as of right now, I was strapped down to the examination table.

The three girls were still there, alone, and at this moment, I didn't know where any of the guys were, or Wally. It wasn't too much on my mind, and I probably didn't care right now as much as I should have, like everything else in this strange moment. If I had been thinking, I probably would have noted Wally's absence right away, juxtaposed with the strange arrival of Jinx, who, as I said, I hadn't spoken to since that initial call in which she promised to capture the Hive Five. Either way, it didn't change the situation and probably wouldn't have, as the three of them seemed perfectly content with the way I was and I knew that even if the other two had been there, the Titans had never been shy to strap me wrongfully down onto tables. Thinking about that fact alone contrasted strange images of Slade—a much more violent Slade, a Slade who would beat me if I begged him not to, who would kill me and seem content enough to do it as long as I ended up dead—and how I had ended up here, in this same room, as he cooed to me and approached me with that horrifying knife, with the Slade of yesterday, last night, whenever, I didn't remember. The Slade who had held me in the deserted area of downtown then was so different from that person, and yet, I would consistently see a lingering residue of the in-death Slade. The Slade who had barked violently at a worm, and the Slade who had become almost obsessively angry with the poor butler who had waited on us when we went to his hang out, who seemed to similarly obsess with ideas of what he would do to him if, no, when he made a mistake with Slade's order, something so small and petty that it seemed could produce deadly consequences in Slade's eyes—this was the same Slade who had comforted me when I cried. Residual anger, he had called it, from Trigon's powers. And again, if I had been more perceptive, maybe I could have then made the connection to Raven that probably would have saved me the quickly coming heartache when she confronted me, because if I knew then that she had more to do with Slade than I realized, I probably would have never set foot in the tower in the first place, not even tried.

But now, I was strapped down very tightly and remembering that horrible night, and the helplessness of that. I had, apparently, been tied down since the moment I had first woken, though in my sleepiness I had barely noticed. I had several cables around my legs, and straps tied around my ankles. My wrists, similarly, had tighter straps keeping them restrained, as well as thicker leather straps around my waist and chest, and I couldn't have moved an inch if I had tried. I only actually noticed that I was tied down, as, because of the blanket covering me, I could not see my body, when Starfire had hugged me and I had felt my limbs be pulled against their ties, imprinting in my skin, having made me groan very lightly. If Starfire had known that I was tied, as I think she did, she paid little attention to trying to conceal it from me in the early moments, as Jinx and Raven seemed to want to do, and in realizing this images of Slade calling her dim were pretty real, and now, strangely, more sensible than anything else tonight. Because only after she hugged me, and I had felt the straps tug gently, I felt my fight-or-flight kicking in, as was typical and learned as a crime-fighter. To wake up, even in complete sleepiness, and not know why or where you were, was made to be associated with unfair knockouts and, if you felt ties or anything binding you, that was your signal to wake up, get it together, and escape. That is, I was trained to react to bindings, and these were no different. Because the minute she hugged me I went from laying there dazed to having opened my eyes almost completely and gently beginning to struggle with ties that held me, squirming to test them. They were the same straps that had held me when I had first seen Slade after his death, and I knew from experience that they were very difficult to escape from, as, in reality, I had only ever gotten free from them with hallucination-Slade's help, though in reality, it had been me alone, breaking the straps in my complete horror when I had seen the shocking-knife coming at me. Seeing my friends didn't exactly elicit that same kind of terror, and maybe still a bit out of it, I only quietly struggled, as a reaction mostly, but maybe again with consideration to who I was, trying to preserve that.

"O-okay, come on—this isn't…" My legs gently lurched and I pulled my arms up, feeling the cables binding them go taut and drag my exhausted arms back down onto the bed with a jolt as the leather dug into my wrists, and I let out a little grunt of frustration as I felt them flop back onto the bed tiredly. I really couldn't move anything, and even though arguably I was in a lot less pain than the last time, and perhaps a bit stronger, maybe just thanks to the IVs, I still found that I couldn't even bring myself to try to free myself more than a few times of stiffly twisting about in the bed. It wasn't as if I was absolutely terrified, as I've said—not as if Slade was out there, trying to get me, at least, not in the horrible way he had been that night so long ago. And I wasn't really angry, either—just mostly confused. It almost seemed like a joke they were playing, but I didn't really find it funny as I couldn't attach any emotions to it. I was just squirming blindly, my mind blank, not totally caring what I was doing and doing more out of the mechanics of my teachings, like toy cars that get overturned but their wheels keep spinning, little metal robots who get hung up in a corner and move accordingly in their same motions until they've mindlessly worked themselves free to roam again. And in blankness, and I do really mean blankness, because I had very little of an idea as to what was going on, I didn't even begin to question why they might have tied me down.

Raven, standing over me, shook her head, holding really a neutral expression about her face. The girl standing next to her, who had been playfully touching me before Starfire came in, was now also looking very serious but also very worried, and maybe a little more expressive in her sadness than Raven, and I noticed that Jinx still had her hands crossed, as if to hug herself for comfort. Starfire had now moved off of me and was staring worriedly down at me, her hands gently clasped together on her arms that hung down, pensively, and that was immediately noticeable about her in general. She didn't look too sad now, but the happiness, at seeing me begin to struggle, had definitely faded. Mostly, she looked concerned.

"You're not doing too good, Robin," Raven spoke gently, glancing away from the computer screen to look at me tiredly. "Your vitals are still off. You need to relax."

Starfire nodded rapidly at this, as if she had been waiting to say the same thing and was intent on making it known. She clasped her hands together even tighter as she looked down at me, and then quickly unclasped them and gently reached down, touching my face on the side very gently with the backs of her fingers. I opened my mouth at that, if just in some surprise, some expression at the sudden feelings that rushed through me as she did that, and no longer could I find the courage to squirm, even slightly, the minute I felt her soft fingers brush my cheek. One of her fingernails, painted bright pink, just very lightly graced the sensitive skin of my cheek, and I was still at once, feeling dazed and taken aback again. Truthfully, this was the completion of my weakness to her, the power she had over me in full force. If I was awake enough to be mad, I wouldn't have been able to do anything about it, and thinking back now it almost seems like on the day I had left, my anger was caused by Kid Flash, and Kid Flash alone. I wouldn't have blamed it on her. I couldn't have.

"Yes Robin, please, no more struggling. We have only restrained you so you will rest. Please do not be afraid," she said, seeming to beg, as her hand caressed my cheek.

At her command, I lay unmoving beneath the thick covers of the bed, and stared at her, any will I had had to fight stomped out by her loving touch and voice. I barely thought about what she said, as was typical of me, but mostly regarded the fact that they seemed not yet to be asking too many questions, maybe briefly washed over by thankfulness that none of them had yet asked where I had gone or what I had done. At least, they weren't doing that now, I thought. However, I could not help but feel a dim, though slowly rising horror at the idea that my being restrained might have more to do with the thing I thought Raven knew, what I was already setting to keep from them a secret, than I could understand. In this moment in time, it had only been a half-thought, crossing briefly my mind before fleeing, and seemed not to have any real merit, though I think I could recognize that my throat was starting to ache and realized it would soon become a dull thump there, and then a closing off of my airways as I woke more and was more exposed to these ideas in their completeness.

"Guys," I said, and was surprised at myself when, for no reason, with no thought process or any justification, I pulled my head back, twisting it to the side to get it away from Starfire's hand. Simply, in that moment, I didn't want her touching me. That was all I knew; the crippling hand felt colder than it had at first, and now had a certain closeness, what seemed to be in a strange juxtaposition to the frigid hand a strange, discomforting heat. The touch seemed to send chills down my spine but burn me up and overcome me with sickness all at once. I did not want it there, and fought it, and maybe, a small score for me, even in this instinctual reaction, I had gained a bit of courage back for myself—a bit of power when I overcame her in that small, seemingly worthless moment. "I…uhhh…w-what is that…?"

In her hand now, I saw Raven had a long, glistening needle, a syringe filled with some strange colored liquid I did not recognize, and the sight itself made me moan gently with similarly dull fear. Needles, too, were made to be cause for alarm, and for good reason. Even aside from waking to the needle coming at you, aside from the confusion and terror of that, needles weren't all that pleasant anyway. So obviously, its sight was only to add to my terror, and although I didn't doubt the needled contained either some kind of sedatives or pain-killers, as I'd only expect from my friends, who I thought wouldn't dare to do worse, even that was terrifying. With more connotations ringing in my mind, I had vivid images of being captured in the earlier days with my partner and waking to the needle, preparing for torment, waiting helplessly for him to save me until I learned to save myself, and even knowing the needle my friend Raven held was not a body-destroying toxin, something to make my skin sensitive for torture, if only to bother my partner, a truth serum…the last one struck my mind and stayed there, though, as I went down the list, I felt I had almost wanted to let it sneak past, though it seemed to prevalent. Because—would the Titans use a truth serum on me? Did they know there was something wrong, or were in dire need to know the truth of what happened when I was out?

But what was more, I suddenly found myself directing questions again, if just briefly, at my own mind: Is what I did wrong, and do I know it's wrong? Does that make it wrong? Does that make me a liar?

And most importantly: did I just betray my friends?

But these questions were too quickly quelled by the onslaught of drugs already being pumped into my system, shoved aside by a brain distracted by the first and foremost sight of the needle as it glistened at me, and my situation in its entirety seemed to strike me, memories, cold nostalgia, chilling me, as I thought simply the facts; there I was, strapped down to a table, having woken in dismay, completely out of it, and now, a needle was being thrust at me. I didn't know what was in it, or why it was meant to be used, but the words 'strapped' and 'needle' came so coldly together in my mind I felt myself chilled into sudden and complete terror. It didn't matter if my friend, one of my best friends, was the one wielding the sharp point—it was still a needle, and I was still strapped down.

A little more awake as I watched her approach me with it, I gave another jolt in my bindings, but was met with only another tug back on my heavy-feeling limbs and a gentle stinging at the irritated area, where the leather straps dug into my skin through the clothes given to me by Slade they had not taken off of me, and feeling dimly the straps press against the soft material of the black sweatshirt I wore, I wondered just briefly if they were going to question me as to where I got the clothes. When she took another step closer to me so that her shadow seemed to loom over me, I became just slightly frantic. "Raven, seriously, b-back up. You're not doing this to me—no!"

She came up closer, though she lowered the needle, as if in hope that that, in some fashion, would serve to placate me. Now being more awake, I was able to take a better look at her than I had before, and saw that, as she had been before I left the tower, she was wearing her typical blue cape, but had a more casual outfit that kept her warmer in her sickness, covering her legs. I wondered if she was still sick, though decided that most likely, it was due to the sudden, strange cold that become the city, as if she was still sick, she now showed no signs of it. She seemed very pulled together, and very unlike how she had been before I left, sneezing and coughing and moaning in annoyance when Beast Boy tried to tell her jokes, even in his own sickness, to try and help her feel better in his own stupid way. Now, her face was very calm, and in perhaps what was usually opposite in what was typically seen of Raven, she seemed maybe just a tad colder than she usually was; the twitch of sympathy, and the good-humor hiding within her seemed to be gone. She seemed tired—not sleepy, not necessarily, but worn, and mostly mentally exhausted. I also noticed she looked a bit more pale than she usually did, and even in her sickness, her skin had had more color. So either she was still sick, and worse, which was unlikely because it would have been the only symptom to show it, or something else was going on.

"Do you think we're going to hurt you?" she asked, and I saw that she looked genuinely displeased now, maybe even a little ticked off. That wasn't new, but in that moment it still served to be incredibly unsettling. She crossed her arms over her chest and tapped the needle with a pointed, pale finger. "Why would we?"

"Well, I'm strapped down to this table," I barked quietly, because it was all I could think to say, all I knew in that moment. With the only feelings of recognition of what I had done and how that might apply to Raven slowly beginning to creep in, it seemed all the more urgent I make some sort of escape before they had a chance to surface. You've probably already guessed, but I had no intention to let her plunge that thing into my body and inject me with some mystery substance—and when I say escape, I don't think I had just meant the bed and the ties, because maybe my plea into the darkness, my admission that I shouldn't have left Slade, held more merit than I would have liked…and I knew it did. It is perhaps unnecessary to say that when I had spoken those words, in such an uncalculated, really un-Robin like way, they had been truthfully, spoken without a filter, in my delusion, especially considering I didn't think, or didn't even consider, or care that, someone was around to hear. And even without consideration in its fullest as to what I had done and the implications of that, the rising feeling of fear I talked about was bubbling up more and I was left with the simple understanding that—well, that I think I had already, unknowingly, dug quite a hole for myself without even trying.

My glance gently slid to the needle in her hand, watching it gently catch the dawning light outside, which seemed to come only from the tech installed outside, seeming unnatural and suffocating suddenly in a way that seemed to make me lurch again, tightening my straps. I suddenly felt surrounded by the tower and by the needle, and the straps seemed to close in on me with an uncaring tightness that was unable to be ignored. The sight of the needle alone was enough to bring terror but when it felt obvious there was no way out, it was ten times worse, and that sensation seemed to only be intensified by the idea that outside the tower there was that unnatural light, somehow in my mind coming to the odd conclusion that outside there was no nature and only some artificial maze the Titans had perhaps created for me to squirm around in like a sickened, drugged rat, which immediately I found my mind creating the image as if just to scare myself, to give myself some imaginary conflict to go off of. The image itself made me want to throw up, and it was all I could think in that moment. I continued with the same rampant fear, "Raven, I swear, put that the hell down. T-that's an order."

I suppose, in retrospect, that was pretty courageous, to take her head on like that, challenge her with this potential she could have easily countered and used to only discredit me further. That is, there is so many ways she could have taken down my argument and opened up something else to put me in a simply even worse situation, if that was even physically possible, though I knew it was, as incredible as that seemed. And really, there were many problems wrong with my ordering—firstly, what authority did I really have to a team anymore who I had completely abandoned for several days without contact? Did I really expect her to take someone like that seriously, when, honestly, I knew I myself wouldn't have? And anyway, was I really in any position to argue? I was strapped down to a table, helpless, and completely at her mercy, if that was a fitting word. I immediately regretted not just being quiet and letting her do what she wanted, even if it was hard as a leader but—if I challenged her and she denied me, I'd be taken down that much further. If she had ignored me, it would have shown that I had truly lost any respect as the leader I'd come to build myself as in their eyes, and when that was gone, I'd be truly weak, and if anything, probably worse off than if I'd stayed with my partner, who I suddenly had vivid images of going back to, who would scold me, treat me as a child, and belittle me as he took me back in—like a mother taking back in her once-boisterous child after that child's career went downhill, that child now returning with their tail between their legs, shy and embarrassed, and, with no power, that ripped away with their failure, complacent with the other's wishes. I saw that happening quite clearly and realized that not only was I internally regretting what I had said, but was praying, simply, that Raven wouldn't deny me this—because I thought if she did then I was done for, mentally, and maybe physically, too.

But amazingly, amazingly, the blue haired girl just tossed the needle onto the table, and in my own surprise at this, I realized my eyes had widened briefly, as to be honest I really hadn't expected her to actually do what I had said, not like this. But she had; she gave me an upset glare that really was not like her as she threw the small device to the side, and turned away from me, crossing her arms over her chest, her hip put out in a pouty gesture to my front, as if to invite me to take it in and enjoy the view of the back because she wouldn't be giving me the satisfaction of eye contact or speech again for a while. She was obviously incredibly angry and I noticed immediately it was not her typical annoyed anger—it was real anger, the kind that only her father Trigon could bring out, the kind that had encompassed Slade, an uncalculated, irrational anger, but an anger all the same. A serious anger. And instantly, her eyes glowed red, but just in the briefest flash before it was gone and she was quickly striding from the room without a word. I heard the door slide open and closed and sat there, feeling almost stunned, because even in my sickness, even in my weakness, I had never, and I mean never, made her that mad. We were best friends, and I had infuriated the one person who had this connection to me, who had been inside my mind, who—wouldn't be the last…

When she was gone, I barely noticed as the girl in stripes beside me shifted and looked to the door. Jinx was not looking at me anymore, but I could see she was noticeably disturbed as she studied the place where Raven had been, as if trying to decide initially whether or not to pursue her immediately. Beside me, Starfire stood, now looking more gaunt with sadness than she had before, as she stared down at me, briefly looking over to the table beside me, where the needle had been carelessly thrown and now was strewn among other tools and random objects, batteries, bags for the IVs, a completely senseless spread of items that didn't cease to amaze me as I too looked over and let my eyes find the needle. Her own green eyes drooped as she regarded me after a moment of letting her eyes wander about the needle, and she sat down on the bed near my feet, and then looked at the needle again, as we exchanged glances in this way; looking at the needle and looking at one another, we had a cold understanding of something, though in all honesty, if either of us knew what exactly that was, it didn't seem to stem beyond this connection of just knowing—but I felt we had exchanged something.

"Robin," she said, now looking at the needle again. On her finger, I noticed she was beginning to play with and gently slide around on that finger a ring—a gold band with a large diamond mounting it, one which, before leaving the tower, I know for a fact she had not had. It looked like the kind of thing we'd have to retrieve from some stupid low-class thief who was lucky enough to make it out of the building with what higher up criminals, maybe ones like Slade himself, would consider for the birds. Sadness seemed to bleed into guilt as she sat there, considering, seeming distant but somehow, completely present, completely here and thinking. "The needle—it is to thin your blood. It is not poison. Raven said that your blood was clotting because of your heart beating irregularly."

I lay there quietly and thought about that for a moment, and maybe elongated that moment because I felt suddenly embarrassed. So it wasn't poison, or something else that would be weakening and defining. A blood thinner was a passive drug; it did nothing to control you, nothing to change you, but gently crept in, did its work, and you saw nothing else of it after that. It was not a drug to induce easier torture, draw my skin more sensitive, make me spill the truth…and yes, that seemed to be a relief, but I think understandably, that relief, and that embarrassment, didn't last for very long at all. If it was indeed just a blood thinner, which, to be honest, I didn't doubt it was, then why hadn't Raven just told me that? Why had she prolonged it when she easily could have intercepted my struggles and told me, and why hadn't she just told me after I had "ordered" her instead of leaving? If she had just told me, I would have taken it voluntarily—but now—now I didn't know what to think.

And there was a bigger problem with what was going on too, which I voiced easily:

"If that's just a blood thinner, then why am I strapped down?" My voice wasn't as urgent as it had been, but it still held some of that same quality that now came out more as annoyance, at least in the way it sounded, than anything else. As if to emphasize what I said, beneath the blankets, I gently tugged my arms up as I stared at her.

She looked back at me, and seemed that she was about to say something as her mouth fell open, but without a word uttered she choked back whatever she was going to say and closed her lips. I wondered if she was trying to figure out what the best way would be to address the question so that I would feel the very least threatened by it, which in the realization of that carefulness alone I felt perhaps even more unhappy to be bound up, as they seemed to know, like I seemed to know for me when it came to what I had done (slowly dawning), that what they were doing was wrong in some way, unjustifiable, as if the answer she gave would be as much for the birds as the petty rock around her finger. There was absolutely no reason to tie me down, I decided, and yet, they did it anyway; that was, there was some reason, but maybe just not a good one, and I once again thought of myself, of the reason I had found it necessary to do what I did, what lead to that, and wondered briefly, remembering Stafire's touch, not only whether or not I would have been justified for any reason but mostly, thinking back on what Starfire had really done wrong and trying to fault her. The similarities and my hatred for that on their side was strong irony, and later, it would almost bring me to laugh.

Instead, maybe sensing her uneasiness with the subject, Jinx stepped back over from where she had been looking at the door and turned to face me, and still, her arms were crossed over her chest, until finally, she seemed to drop them, as if in opening them it would appease me somehow, give me the courage to relax in her presence as if I was a cat and she was an experienced trainer. She rubbed one of her hands on her hip, maybe in the discomfort at the subject, fiddling mindlessly like Starfire with her rock. Then she looked at me and shrugged, obviously seeming to be perhaps the weakest out of the three at explanations or speaking, and I knew that before she even said anything. Still, she tried:

"You're obviously not a hostage in your own house, Robin. You're still pretty bad off, and we just don't want you to do anything stupid until you heal. You spent all that time searching for the others and we all know how driven you are, especially now, but we can't let you go out after you almost died and make an ass of yourself like we all know you would. Yeah, it's who you are, nobody blames you, but you're not doing any more detective work until you heal—that's what we decided."

Huh. So, apparently, they did think I had spent the whole time searching—at least, according to Jinx, and the nod I saw now from Starfire, who seemed to brighten just a bit, if hopefully, seemed to confirm this. Even when I had been really ready to use that excuse, I hadn't really expected it to work, and yet, two of the three people I had encountered thus far did believe this. I'm not exactly sure how they came to this conclusion—or, really, who we was, and what "deciding" really entailed, but ultimately, I would be a worse liar than a leader if I said that I wasn't completely relieved, even in my haze, once again, to hear this, at least, simply because even though I knew it didn't completely get me off the hook, especially as I seemed to sense this change in Raven from when I had first woken and she had even smiled a little, I knew that at least it meant that not only ultimately would I have something to fall back on that I knew they'd believe now, but it meant that there was a serious possibility Raven wasn't as suspicious as I thought—didn't know as much as I was sure she did, because ultimately, I now knew the reason I was tied up wasn't to keep me there, but rather, to keep me from investigating, as they'd said. I didn't even begin to think that maybe that was just a cover up for what Raven, or someone else, maybe, knew I was really doing—perhaps classifying eloping with Slade as "detective work" to keep me there, and keep me cooperative and restful.

I didn't know, but again, could not deny the wave of gratefulness that washed over me, and had a vague memory, in an instant, overtaking me as it came, of being a kid, doing something completely stupid (a more vivid image of my time in the circus surfaced and I remembered, with an inward chuckle, on several occasions, creating a lot of turmoil for other performers, letting out animals from their cages, messing up performances on purpose and the like, and then holding my breath to see what my parents would say, if they'd confront me on it, holding in the sigh of relief I always cherished to exhale when they'd just greet me with a normal "hi" and not a "what did you do," though either way, looking back now, I would have been content to take either when it came to them (and then I had been thinking how much I really missed them)), and hoping it would just pass right over my parents' heads, as it seemed to have now with my friends, who were, as I could not deny them, truthfully the closest thing I had had to parents since moving here, who had raised me and took care of me, as they were now. Maybe feeling the relief in this new knowledge, and having associated those memories with my friends—recalling completely how my friends had been my parents, and realizing that I needed them more than anything else in this world, maybe temporarily forgetting Slade, if that were possible, I suddenly felt extremely guilty for the way I had made Raven feel. Obviously, it was not my fault for being afraid of the needle, but I knew how much my friends cared for me and should have trusted her enough to allow her to do what she wanted, and, at the very least, I should not have treated her like a child by giving her an order, which I really hated to do anyway. That had taken it too far, and I understood her anger, as I simultaneously seemed to forget my hangups about how Raven was acting, maybe my desire to disassociate myself from Jinx as she still seemed too foreign to me, and especially, my feelings about Starfire, and what had happened—all very briefly. And again, all the while, I forgot Slade's touch, Slade's anger, his connection—all lost to a fond memory of my parents and I at the circus.

"Guys…" I said the words quietly, suddenly feeling the guilt I swore I had seen Star giving off when she played with that rock on her finger. I regretted not trusting Raven—because, even though it wasn't completely sensible to trust her, it wasn't completely sensible not to, either. In that washed over state, my memory encompassing me, I suddenly failed to see the problem I thought I knew enough to avoid: that she might know. I had been hoping for the best and, overcome by an excuse for joy, I gave in the easy way—another example to add to the growing list of my failure as I took the easy route once again, because in truth, I didn't want to fight—and this memory was all I needed to convince my brain I didn't have to. Memories made me optimistic, while the future was making me feel horrible and vague, and to speak about the present, to consider it in the way it deserved was unheard to me. Like clockwork, I thought about the future and then passed over it to ponder it again and then do the same thing, a vicious, pointless progression of time and waste of my life. Optimism in the past was a bit better—but in consideration to the present, often, not always perhaps what was needed. I would learn that quickly, but now, all I wanted was to move on and to make sure that we were all cool with each other once again. These people were my parents, and I never had liked fighting with my parents. "Guys…I'm sorry…you're right…I'll take the stuff…"

The two girls brightened immediately, and though it seemed as if there was a lot riding on my answer, a lot that could depend on it, I got the feeling immediately by how they reacted that they had fully expected me to give in and were just waiting for the cue to go off and act accordingly with that information. It didn't seem as if they were very surprised that I had agreed, which may have made me suspicious, but their happiness at my agreeing was genuine enough that it didn't matter. It was another memory for me, almost like begging your parents to take you somewhere and then just sitting there in quiet while they pondered the idea, even though you knew you'd be going and were just waiting for the cue to go get ready, though of course you could have gone right then to dress and the like, but you had the reservation, maybe the manners to wait, as if to justify the answer of the one you waited on. It was obvious to me this was how they felt because of how quickly they recovered from their waiting, but like a parent who could sense the same from their kid, there was really no cause to be angry. In a close relationship to someone, it wouldn't matter that you may feel that the other in the relationship had manipulated you—maybe in a much less meaningful relationship, you'd feel slighted and leave quickly. But when someone was as close to you as my friends were, as I had been to my parents, it was just another funny quirk that the person who pondered the question indulged in, and indulged in frequently, never accusing the other, never slighting themselves. That was what a family was.

Starfire once again jumped up, and then grabbed me, more gently this time, and hugged me happily. "Wonderful!" she said, and squeezed my frame very gently until I gave a soft cry of acknowledgement and she released me, fixing the blankets that covered me so that they were flat and smooth. Going quickly, seemingly invigorated by my response, as if she'd just had the life stoked back into her, she jumped up, and giddily turned toward the door, and said vibrantly, clapping her hands gently with closed eyes and a huge smile on her face, "I'm going to make you some of my Tamarian pudding!" And with that, she ran off, confirming my suspicions with signs and symptoms that were about as tell-tale about their "condition" as a formally written doctor's manual, before I could even get a chance to mutter an obligatory and too overly-enthusiastic "Great!" at the idea of the disgusting pudding she'd make as we all tried to be nice and eat it—arguably not as bad as Raven's pancakes, but still pretty bad.

Speaking of Raven, Jinx was smiling in the direction of the door as she seemed transfixed by the display Starfire had made, and also took a few steps toward it. Her hands on her hips, now, her arms thankfully not crossed for her own comfort, shyness, she seemed to be very relaxed with her body language that seemed to rub of onto me, even if I was looking at her and thinking that it was much more subtle in her the idea that she had known all along, just waiting for the cue, and just barely seen. But she was just as bright as Starfire and arguably, even in naturally being more reserved than Starfire, it was almost easier to read the effects of this because unlike Starfire, like me, she seemed to understand too the little game of waiting that seemed to be played between us, and I didn't doubt she'd practiced it before, probably using her own charm to win over someone like Brother Blood, or maybe it stemmed even closer to home with her own parents. Who knew? And once again, even knowing that she did understand the mechanics of that between us, anger did not become me. They may have been reserved as in order to keep from influencing my decision the wrong way, but as far as manipulation, we were still very far from that either way. I'd say manipulation was insinuating to my parents that my act could only get that much better if we spent a little too much money to see a professional show in New York so I could "study their techniques," and then gently telling them that it was okay if we couldn't and thanking them for being such great parents. Yeah, I knew how to do it, too, so I really couldn't be offended now.

"Charmer, isn't she?" Jinx said, and laughed, shaking her head a little with closed eyes. "That pudding stuff sounds delish." She took a few more steps towards the door, and then turned and looked back at me. "I'm gonna get Raven back, and she can give you that blood thinner. She's the only one who knows how to do it right." She stepped out of the doorway then, and then, after a brief moment where it seemed that she might continue down the hallway in the direction where Starfire had skipped off, she again stopped and briefly popped her head back into the room to look at me. "Okay, in all seriousness though, what do you want to eat? After you get off those IVs you're gonna be hungry."

And now it definitely seemed things were back to normal; conversation that was casual and non-hostile on her part had me warming up to her already, and already relaxing even more into the bed, feeling that the tension between us in the first wakeful hours had definitely diminished. It was sometimes hard to tell things like that with Starfire, but for someone more accustomed to Earth like Jinx, it was easier to read the reactions to things and take from that what I could, and it now it was plainly obvious she had her normal ease back, not talking to me like she had when I was half asleep, like I wasn't there, but not on edge and skirting around me when I'd been protesting, either. It seemed she was just talking to a friend and was comfortable enough to do so, and truthfully, that was all I needed to put me into an even firmer ease, a state of ignorance—ignorance I thought couldn't become me, but I suppose I never factored in this situation, this thing I had tried to leave behind—creeping memories of my parents. They made me weak. They always made me weak. They made me happy, and they made me feel warm, but they made me weak all the same. They made me forget that there was someone else out there, who gave me the same warmth, who was alive and real and breathing and present, who did not make me feel weak. He made me feel stronger than ever.

And in my ignorance, I shrugged quietly beneath the sheets, barely feeling the straps anymore, and I still had a smile on my face, mirroring hers. It was not a façade. It was real—stupid and wrong on some level, but it was not a façade. "Don't care. Anything but the pudding."

"'K. I'll be back in a little bit," she said softly, laughing a little as she did, waved her hand, and left briefly, only to come back in once again. To say the least, I was a little more surprised this time, because this time, her face was a bit more somber looking, but still light enough that it didn't really alarm me, more just lightly perplexed me, though. It wasn't of course enough to elicit the horror of the needle, and it wasn't enough to wreck this new mood I had adopted, I guess, because maybe doped up not only on the regular drugs but the memories of my past, I was too far gone to care. In retrospection, I should have paid more attention to what she said next than anything else, but if my priorities had been straight at any other point in time since leaving the tower, this was certainly not it. When she mentioned Raven in the way she was about to, I should have immediately taken back my promise to take the drugs, at the very least, and probably should have even contemplated getting out of there right then and there. Because what she was about to say was what I had been thinking, what had bothered me about Raven—and when she said it I should have recognized that no, it was not just me who had noticed these strange, scary instances about her. That should have been a cue enough that something was wrong, because maybe in remembering my parents, I was putting it off to the drugs, a delusion if nothing else. But there was something wrong, and it would seem by what she said, if I had been present in mind more so than body, I would have been the only one who would have been able to do anything about it, the only one who knew to because in reality, this connection I had to Raven allowed me to see deeper than anyone else. Much deeper. And when I realized the problem wasn't just in my own mind, I should have realized that my reservations about her had more weight than I thought, and that I shouldn't have put them to the side. I had always believed in trusting my instinct, and thought if I didn't have anything else, I'd always have that. But lying here, weakened, struck down, with emotions slowly fluctuating and making me drawn further into a state where all I wanted was quiet, all I wanted was peace, to let those precautions slip away into blissful ignorance, my instinct seemed only to stand in the way of that. And, at a time when I should have trusted it more than ever, shouldn't have looked at who was good and who was bad and should have just gone with what felt right—this was the time when I shoved it, in all its amazing fine-tuned quality, as far from me as I could. I thought then, just briefly: the Titans are good and Slade is bad. That's how it's always been.

And I lingered in this mindset and wanted to stay there.

Jinx said:

"Oh, and…um, just don't let Raven scare you…I don't really know what's wrong with her, but I think she might be sick, so if something else happens like last time—it's just not against you, okay? I mean, she was fine until… well, I'd just try to rest if I were you," she said quietly, looking back and forth, as if she was scared Raven might hear and murder her for even speaking her name.

And all I said was, looking into the doorway, where the light from the room was spilling into the hall outside, casting her shadow onto the floor, stretching out long and bending as it crept up the wall:

"Okay," I said very quietly, thinking again about my parents, remembering the strange foods we had ended up eating on the road, everything from fine sirloin steaks to barbequed rats, and as disgusting as that memory was, it was one I loved. I wasn't even thinking about her. I remembered how, in New York, on the way to the show, my parents had decided to take me to a five star seafood restaurant as a treat, though much to their dismay, I had been clearly missing the pit-fired road kill we sometimes stooped to eating as I pushed away oysters that sat on a special oyster plate, accompanied by a tiny fork, while my parents looked on with wide eyes, and then laughed. When they had been alive, we often laughed about it almost every time we ate together. And now as I thought about the Tamarian pudding my friend, one of my caregivers, planned to make, the last thing on my mind was Raven. I was thinking about how, like with the pudding she would make, my face had had the most horrified look on it the first time I tried one of the slimy things, which my parents loved to mimic thus forth. The thoughts together made me feel such comfort—and that was something I couldn't deny, even now. "Thanks," was all I said, and turned away, looking out the window.

And after a brief pause and a nod, she left me alone to my thoughts—and it was all I needed, a pause, to become fully consumed by my weakness.

To forgot my presumptions about my friends…

And to forget Slade.

While I thought about oysters.

"I heard someone's going to take his medicine."

I groaned and pulled open my eyes at the sound of the voice, which I vaguely heard over me as I lay there beneath it. My senses came back slowly, but more quickly than when I had first awoken to the feelings of the straps confining me, the two girls looking down over me as I lay in the bed, drawn so far out of it by drugs and my sickness that it made waking quickly a stiff impossibility. But now, I had just been dozing very lightly, and my eyes didn't fight me much as I pulled them open to see who was speaking, though if I said I didn't really know even before I opened my eyes, I would, once again, be lying. I didn't really remember when I dozed off, and would have too been lying had I said I had any memory of when or how that had happened, not that it much surprised me anyway that I actually had fallen asleep, or bothered me in any way, but it was definitely not a calculated thing that I did. Needless to say, I had been very relaxed lying there thinking about my parents and these odd, strangely endearing memories, and in my own exhaustion, as well as the quiet that surrounded me when the room was at last vacant, it was perhaps at the very least expected that I'd fall back asleep again, and probably wouldn't have been strange, even to me, if I had slept longer than I did. After all, my only sleep in the last six days had been extremely infrequent, and obviously my body was trying to catch up. It probably didn't help that, even despite the straps that held me down, I had gotten very comfortable in my calm, and allowed the warmth of the bed to soothe me into the submissive state in which I could fall asleep. Now looking back on it, I try to decide where I'd been the most comfortable when I think about the situation I'm in now and in deciding how these moments apply to the situation, and I think that even without the bed, without the blankets, I had been content enough to rest in Slade's arms—but if there was a care to be given about Slade in the wake of falling asleep and having my dreams consumed with memories of my mother and father, it was one he would not get, one I wouldn't give. I was in the ecstasy of my past, and again, the present and future were thrown out. And even now, thinking about that warmth, that which Slade could give me, and that from my nostalgia, I feel almost guilty that still, even in the façade, in the clinging for something real I could touch, I found so much comfort in them, what they had given me. What Slade had done for me, giving me his heart in that moment, I had thrown out for an easier comfort, and even now, I feel regret for that; even in having been half-out of it, I feel regret for that.

And over me, I saw the girl who had left the room however long ago before (I was silently wondering how long I'd been asleep when I thought about that time before), now looking considerable better than she had, and even still slightly struggling with dawning sleep, did I notice that clearly. Raven wasn't as pale as she had been, and that was instantly noticeable. Her eyes, where I had remembered the horrible glowing red, were now back to their gentle deep purple splendor and I saw immediately that now, she had a smile on her lips, the soft smile she often gave me and me only before I had left, the little smile at seeing me wake finally after her rescuing me. She almost looked back to normal; back to herself, back to the girl I had known and loved, who I would have done anything for, truthfully my best friend in the world. And once again, she looked beautiful. There was no brooding, no anger, no irritation; she looked free and she looked like she was simply happy to see me, more than anything else in that moment. And I was happy to see her, even considering—happy to see her, maybe only in my half-sleep, maybe only in lingering dreams, maybe with reservations set aside, moments forgotten, my intuition ignored, my old self shoved away in the closet for a different Robin, a shyer Robin, the Robin who was happy to be ignorant if it meant he was blissful, the Robin I never was. In the moment I woke, I was again that Robin, and wouldn't return for quite awhile, wouldn't drag who I was back out of the closet in fear for something, the truth, what was going on, what I was missing. But now, I could not help, even in waking slowly, returning the smile she regarded me with.

"Yeah," I said softly against the blankets, nuzzling them away so that I could speak more freely to her. She laughed gently, and at once I felt completed in my weakness, like Starfire but—I know now, this girl had so much more power over me than Starfire. If I'd thought it was about Starfire—if Slade had thought it was about Starfire, then he was wrong. It wasn't—never had been. Compared to the girl standing over me, she should have been the last thing on my mind, and she was then, but not pushed aside for thoughts I should have been thinking, and instead for now a façade of comfort that was undeniable. She gently took the blankets away with her hand, helping me as I almost stupidly struggled to get them away, and pulled them down so that my neck was exposed. In her other hand, she brandished the needle, but this time, there was no terror elicited, no struggling, no fight—no old Robin. This time, I was looking at her eyes and feeling her hand as she gently let it wander against my cheek, and she had me where she wanted me, helpless to protest even if I had wanted to. But I didn't; at that moment, I was putty in her hands, and she knew it.

With her hand on my cheek, she applied a bit more pressure as she very gently lead to my head to turn so that she'd have better access to my neck. I didn't fight it, and in fact, when I realized what she was doing, I turned my head to the side completely so that she could do what she wished, taken that far in my weakness that now I wanted so much to please her I was helping her do the work the old Robin would have despised, run from. "Good boy," she said very gently, and I gave a soft cry out, maybe from nervousness or anticipation, or maybe the sudden cold sensation, as I felt her beginning to very lightly clean my neck with a cotton ball, soaked damp with some unknown substance, where I assumed the needle would soon find its way. Hearing this, she added with the same gentleness, "Don't worry, it's not going to hurt."

And with one hand still caressing my cheek, I felt the needle gently plunged in and gave another soft cry, not so much out of pain, but simply in surprise at the sudden feeling, the slight pinch as it was pushed into my skin with a distant pop. I grunted a bit as I felt myself being injected with the substance and wriggled only slightly beneath the straps, though not exerting enough force that it would really do anything to disturb my position, let alone free me from the still powerful straps, and I didn't think it had even really affected the needle's distribution. Still, even though it probably hadn't, her hand stiffened a bit on my cheek as she said, "Stay still or I'm going to mess this up."

And I did, even though, despite what she had said, it did hurt a little, but it didn't last long. I felt the needle quickly pulled out after the plunger was pushed all the way down and uttered one last little cry, but quickly felt better as she cleaned it again and then bandaged it so that it was tight. I observed a slight drop of blood begin to spread on the cloth over it, but didn't pay it much attention more than a mild glance.

"See, that's because you squirmed," she scolded me, but was still gently petting my cheek, even after taking the needle away, which I didn't resist at all, and yet, somewhere in the me, the old Robin was screaming and kicking, fighting with all he had to escape that touch. That was a condescending touch, and it was one that he knew—one that he hated. It was the touch of his partner, with the tone to match in almost an exact shot by shot replica of that Robin's inner struggles. But now it was mine; now, in my weakness and sickness, I felt that hand touching me and I loved it without question. The Robin who once hated to be fondled and treated like a baby now was yearning for that kind of touch more and more as these strange days progressed.

"I'm sorry," I murmured softly against her hand. The words almost felt mechanic as I spoke them, and yet, I meant them, more than anything. "And I'm sorry I yelled at you earlier."

She gave me her smile again, and then patted my cheek gently before she removed the hand away, making me whimper inwardly, already missing it, so far gone, needing it, dependent, unraveled. I had pulled the last leg of the statue out without even knowing it, as I lay here, strapped down, tucked in, injected, and being petted and addressed like a dog by my former subordinate. And if there had been any question of her control, it was gone the minute that needle entered my neck—and we both knew it. Even in my sickness, even in her anger, even in my memory, and even in our past, we both knew it.

"I don't think it'll be a problem again," she said, and pulled the blankets back up over me, beaming quietly, overjoyed, if that word was true to her, in her own listless and quiet fashion. "You get some rest now, okay? You're probably going to feel a little lethargic while those drugs do their thing."

"You got it," I said, and again, meant it, and liked it.

"Good boy," she said again, and left, turning out the lights and closing the door, leaving me in total darkness. I barely heard the door lock as I almost immediately, without thought, slipped back into sleep for the third time that day.

In my delusion, I rested soundly, blissfully—but it wasn't until Slade entered my dreams this time that the old Robin was hoisted up from the depths of the cage she, that drug, had locked him in, and brought back into the world full force, to fight, to protest, to kick and scream. It was only then that I remembered him again—and only then I remembered the fire of her eyes, and finally felt it burn me.

And it was only then that I remembered the other eye, the single eye, and missed its comfort.

That would be where the fight came in. To find that warmth again, and to escape that of the fire, the burn.

But with the needle's effects inside me—

I had gotten myself into a deeper hole than I realized. Without even trying.