Title: Defined By Our Titles

Disclaimer: I do not own Teen Titans or any of the characters…

Warning: Slash, vague references to rape.

I can do this. I am Robin the Boy Wonder. I am the protégé of the legendary Batman. The leader and founder of the Teen Titans. I can do this. I can overcome whatever Slade can dish out for me. I can do this, I will survive this. I…will…

Robin gripped the blank titles of the shower, goose bumps traveling up and down his body despite the heat of the water pounding down upon him. Shivers, like so many hands, causing his muscles to tremble as Robin squeezed his eyes shut.

I 'can't' do this.

Tears mixed with the water running down his face. But no amount of water, soap, or scrubbing could ever make him clean enough. He could scrub away the grime and every trace of evidence but it was no good. He was tainted now. He knew this. Knew it as clearly as he knew that this wasn't the end.

He could run. He could hide. He could change his name and never again be known as Robin, or Partner, or Leader, but he knew that that wasn't enough.

Slade would find him…claim him again and again and again and…

Robin opened his eyes, the water still flowed, his long dark lashes the only thing keeping the water from going into them. He stepped back out of the water and pushed his hands through his sodden hair as he gazed up at the steam rising in swirling coils over the curtain.

Should I just give in now? If I give in now that means less lives taken, less innocence lost. All these years as a hero, always risking my life to help strangers. Could I give it now? Could I willingly hand over my life to a man even the devil would dread to cross…for the sake of others? For the sake of not just strangers but 'friends'?

He let his arms fall limply to his sides.

He didn't know, but in all reality he had little choice.

He looked back up at the showerhead and let it's cleansing heat, once again wash away every trace of his weakness. Robin turned the water off, left the shower, then dried and dressed himself.

He no longer had his uniform that had been his trademark for so long. Red, yellow and green: bright colors representing the joy of a time now gone. Never to be worn again, at least not by him.

Robin exited his room, still the same as he had left it earlier that day…bed made, desk covered in files he had yet to sort out, a set of bird-a-rangs sitting there just waiting to be sharpened, a broken jump cord that was in need of rewinding…

He made his way down to the main room of the Tower that had been his home since he had left Gotham City. He paused as he descended the last step. The room was in ruins. The battle that had taken place here being of mythic proportion…or so he had heard.

"Robin."

He looked up into that cold eye; concrete gray meeting sapphire blue. Slade stood as calm and control as ever and paying no notice what-so-ever to the four bound and gagged teens held in place just off to his right.

"I hope you enjoyed you shower. We've been waiting patiently for you to return." After raking the boy's figure with his eye Slade added, " I'm glad to see that you have reached a decision."

He glanced down at his clothing. Orange and black with a carved stylized S on his chest. He did not let the disgust show on his face, but he knew that Slade could see it in his eyes, having not been allowed to replace his mask.

His friends tried to speak as they struggled in their respective robots' arms but their words were lost among their gags. But that was okay, he knew what they would say. They would tell him not to do it. Tell him that they would find a way to stop Slade, but it was no good. Nothing was anymore. Nothing but them and the lives that they could lead…and would, but without him.

He knew that it wasn't their fault that he had stumbled into Slade's trap or…what he had done to him… but the fact remained that it was their connection to him that allowed Slade to arranged this situation that they now found themselves in.

Himself for the lives of the other Titans. And Robin knew that this time the man was not just playing around. The Titans had never realized it but the Sladebots were extremely lethal as he had discovered when he had made an in-depth analysis of the machines. Slade had been playing with them all this time. Like a kid with an ant farm, he had manipulated the Titans and especially him.

With no trace of any emotion in his voice Robin replied and sealed his fate, "Yes."

"Very well, come along then."

He moved forward, passing his former teammates as they renewed their struggles. He stopped just out of Slade reach, head bowed, resigned to his fate.

Slade moved forward and grasped his chin, the cold metal of his gloves pressing into his jaw as his head was lifted up, his blue eyes meeting Slade's stare.

"My colors suit you very well. Wouldn't you agree Titans?" Muffled cries of fury answered his question.

"Yes, I thought you would."

"Oh, but don't worry, Robin. I know this may seem bad now but you'll learn to like it."

And as emotionless as he tried to appear, he couldn't suppress the shutter the passed through him, making Slade's single eye sparkle with some sadistic pleasure. It wasn't only his new uniform that Slade was commenting on…

Slade pulled Robin forward and with one large deadly hand encircling his neck, the pair made their way out of Titan's Tower.

For Raven, Beast Boy, Cyborg and Starfire this was the beginning of the end of the Titans. They would never recover from the lost of their leader…

But as for Slade and Robin…well, not much is known about what happened to them. Robin was never seen again but Slade could still be found if you wanted a job done.

After many years, the underworld would start to notice a change in the once mysterious Deathstroke. The rumor was that he had experimented on himself because he seemed diminished in stature and yet still retained that almost inhuman stamina. Experimentation also easily explained the regained use of his right eye. So that now he had a matching pair of dark blue-almost black eyes. And yet many wondered, ' had they always been that color?'

But if you ever had the chance to converse with Deathstroke, his voice remained just as icy, calculating, and poisonous as ever it had been. Only his well characterized purr seemed somehow reduced. His voice was now more reminiscent of a growl than a purr, but otherwise nothing had changed.

He was still Deathstroke the Terminator.

Assassin, mercenary and thief for hire.

A/N – This would have been posted weeks ago but my…wonderful sister did not read over it until today, but I have to say 'thanks' to her because he helped. Oh and just for reference this takes place before Apprentice pt 1 & 2. Please review and tell me what you think.

D/2