07:45 AM

It had taken a lot of talking, but Robin had finally convinced Kid Flash that it would be best if he again spoke with Artemis, but in a less combative way than usual. It was very difficult to explain this to Kid Flash, without offending him or hurting his feelings. Robin had to put it in just the right way, several times over, to get Kid Flash to see what he meant, and understand that it wasn't really a criticism, but more a suggestion on another way to go about it.

Robin was even more tired than before, and really had hoped to go straight to bed. But when he got home, he found that Wayne Manor was virtually deserted. This puzzled him. Alfred was always around, even if Bruce was elsewhere.

The only thing out of the ordinary was the phone pad, usually in a drawer, sitting on the kitchen counter. It was only out when it was being used, but no numbers had been written on the top sheet. Flipping through it, Robin saw only old numbers that had been there a long time.

A prickle of unease ran down his spine, though he didn't know why. Surely a blank notepad was nothing to get excited over. Maybe he really was paranoid...

"Where have you been?!," the question, spoken in a voice like thunder, made Robin jump.

He whirled around to find himself face to face with Batman, in full gear. Instead of answering, he asked a question of his own, though he wasn't entirely sure why it had come to him to wonder.

"Where's Alfred?," his voice sounded small to him, and he took a breath to make sure it would sound stronger the next time he spoke.

"Answer the question!,"

Robin was both intimidated and infuriated by the hostile tone of Batman's voice. It enraged him to be spoken to in such a manner, but even he wished to avoid the wrath of The Bat.

"Out," he spat back then, refusing to be cowed, he asked again "where's Alfred?,"

He saw it coming, but refused to accept it as reality until the blow struck. Batman's hand hit the side of his head hard enough to knock him down. His head crashed against the corner of the kitchen counter as he went down. The world spun, turning darker and darker... and finally fading to black.

October 27th , 07:00 PM

"Paranoid?. Robin?," Kid Flash actually laughed.

Robin's continuing absence had not gone unnoticed by the Team, nor had they failed to observe Batman's frequent low-voiced conversations with members of the League who were hanging around Mount Justice. None of them had overheard anything, except for Aqualad a few weeks ago. When he told the Team what he'd overheard, Kid Flash had been the first to scoff.

The others looked at one another and didn't comment. They didn't think it was funny, they were genuinely worried. How could you tell if a superhero was being paranoid?. They were also unsure of their ability to pick out strange behavior in Robin, particularly. To them, virtually all of his behaviors were strange.

"Batman and Robin live in the same house together," Artemis said after a moment "He probably knows Robin better than any of us,"

"Still," Kid Flash grumbled "He's one to talk. He's the whole reason Robin isn't supposed to tell anybody his real name. How's that for paranoid?,"

The rest of the team remained silent. They didn't want to admit it, but now they thought about it, Robin had been acting a little... off. Distant, distracted. They hadn't really noticed it, but now it had been pointed out, they could think of little else. Their silence made Kid Flash remember that moment on the rooftop when Robin had flinched away from him. That was definitely out of the ordinary.

But he didn't mention it. That would be admitting there was something wrong with his friend, something he had failed to notice or do anything about. In his mind, Robin stood as the invincible. Lacking in any sort of superpowers, but able to hold his own against even Superman when it came down to it. Taking capture, torture, destruction and even death all in stride, adapting to any situation in the same way a dancer learns a new step, with confidence and a calm aura of acceptance.

Admitting to having seen Robin in a moment of weakness would be comparable with announcing that reality was an illusion. And, though Kid Flash denied it even to himself, something being wrong with Robin would affect the Team. Especially him, as he was currently trying to leave the life behind. Robin, however indirectly, was getting in the way of that.

Flickering flame, burning in the darkness. Consuming what blocks its way, a hellish inferno, engulfing the heart, burning through the soul, and leaving behind only desolate ash. A shadow of hate, falling across an endless void. A seething, living darkness, swallowing memory and mind, leaving nothing but the fire, which in turn leaves nothing in its wake save that which remains after death has taken from you all that it can. Emptiness. Terrible, black emptiness. Deeper... deeper into the dark, where only the truly lost ever go, drowning in the sorrows of the world, drinking in the smell of death, of cold blood...

...Robin's eyes flashed open and he stared about him in a sea of disorientation. There was a throbbing pain in his head, which seemed bent on blocking out everything else. Soaked in sweat, he could still feel the flames which had burned only in his dreams. He felt as if he were burning even now, which drove him to a sitting position, in spite of the dizziness the action caused.

He sat panting for several seconds, or perhaps minutes, waiting for his mind and body to return to reality and tell him what was going on. When at last they did, he realized he was in his own bed, though fully clothed (including his mask).

After his altercation with the kitchen counter, Robin had woken with a splitting headache and blurry vision. Batman had explained to him that Alfred was going on a long holiday, and wouldn't be back for some time. He muttered something about it being for the best, being "safest that way", but Robin was too groggy to understand what that meant, and it hadn't been repeated later.

He'd spent the last day or two pretty out of it. Batman had thankfully decided to leave him mostly at home, though he had dragged him on a brief patrol the night before, which hadn't gone terribly well at all. Since being knocked out, Robin had taken special care to stay on Batman's good side.

He had resisted the urge to argue, or demand an explanation. Doing so, he now knew from experience, would only make things that much worse. It concerned him, Batman going out alone. There was no telling what he might do, over the edge as he seemed to be.

Robin had already learned to watch for the warning signs, most of which were so subtle that only someone who spent as much time with The Bat as Robin did could notice them. To him, they stood out like neon signs, saying that pushing further would be bad for everyone, especially him. The past few days had been fairly quiet and peaceable as a result.

That is, during the day. Everything changed when the sun went down.

Batman would begin to pace, growing ever more restless. He clearly wanted to go out on patrol, but didn't want Robin out of sight. Robin understood. He was the lifeline. If Batman did lose control and cross that line in the heat of the moment, Robin could stop him from doing something he would regret. But Batman could no more stay in at night than he could stop his heart from beating. And Robin was in no condition to go with him.

In his absence, Robin spent most of his time sleeping. A growing concern had built in him, that perhaps this was more than a simple case of stress. Blood samples were easy to obtain when cleaning cuts from Batman's nightly fights with criminals. Robin wasn't sure what he was looking for. Something out of the ordinary. But he'd run every test he could think of, and they'd all come back negative.

So he'd decided that his initial assumption was correct, that there was something bothering Batman that he wasn't telling Robin about. That meant there was nothing to do but try and wait the situation out, or hope that an opportunity to ask some questions came up. This was not the first time Batman had let something get under his skin and refused to talk about it. Robin had learned that it was better not to press the issue, and wait for Batman to talk about it on his own.

Until then, Robin would just have to curb his normal reactions to intimidating behaviors. He would have to resist the urge to raise his voice when Batman did, and would have to respond passively to aggression. It went against his natural inclination to do so, but he knew it was better that way. His own combative nature was counterproductive in this instance.

He had to bite his tongue on any retort to harsh words, to take a deep breath at every criticism, swallow his resentment of being treated like a child, and just wait it out. Robin wasn't naturally a patient person, but he had plenty of experience waiting. Sure, being a vigilante had its share of action, but there was also a lot of waiting around involved. Waiting to arrive, waiting to see something, waiting for test results, waiting.. waiting... and more waiting. He could wait. Forever, if that's what it took.

November 2nd, 02:00 AM

For several nights now, Robin had been joining Batman. His blurred vision and dizzy spells were all but gone, though his head still hurt off and on, especially when he moved too quickly. He didn't say anything about it, and Batman didn't ask.

Actually, Batman didn't talk to him much at all these days, except to tell him what it was that he'd done wrong, or could have done better. Robin was used to this. Batman's way of showing he cared had always been to say and do things that furthered Robin's ability to survive. He might frown and use a harsh tone, but Robin had learned to appreciate that as much as any high praise. Trouble was, lately, he couldn't see what it was that was causing displeasure in his mentor.

Nothing he did seemed to be good enough. It didn't come as a surprise to him, all things considered, but it was grating on his nerves. But he had decided to grit his teeth and bear it in silence, and so that's exactly what he would do.

He'd settled into an uncomfortable routine of maintaining his peace, of dropping his gaze when Batman spoke, carefully refraining from using any tone or words which might be seen as aggressive. It wasn't easy for him. In fact, it was harder than he had imagined it would be.

Tonight, they were patrolling from the rooftops. Robin preferred this to riding in the batmobile. To better canvas an area, they were always some distance apart, on opposite sides of a building, or even on two entirely different buildings. Distance had become Robin's release. The farther away he was from Batman, the better and more normal things seemed.

There was a chill wind blowing, foretelling of the icy months to come. Robin tried to remember how cold it had been this time last year. It seemed like tonight was cooler than last year had been, but he wasn't entirely sure. In any case, the weather man had been predicting that the weather was going to turn nasty over the next week or so, with the assumption that the trend would continue well into the month. Winter was coming early, and it was going to be cold.

Robin was standing on the corner of a tall building, right at the edge so he could look up and down several streets and alleys. The great height and lack of any sort of railing between himself and thin air didn't bother Robin at all. Even if he fell, which was so unlikely as to be laughable, he could always catch himself with his grappling hook, or perhaps with the clothes line that was just a couple stories down. He wasn't even slightly worried, though the wind was picking up speed.

The streets below were dark and quiet, as he would have expected so late at night. Truth be told, he wasn't sure why Batman had led him to this part of the city. Compared to other areas, this one had a fairly low crime rate, especially at two in the morning. But he hadn't asked any questions or put up any kind of protest. And he was doing everything he could to spot some crime that needed stopping, in spite of everything inside him saying that this was a colossal waste of time.

Besides that, he was tired. They'd been out all night, and he'd spent most of the day waiting for Bruce to get out of meetings, having been dragged along but not allowed inside and so having to sit on the uncomfortable decorative couches situated outside Bruce's office. They'd been out late the night before too, and up early in the morning to patrol the city before Bruce's first meeting of the day.

Aside from which, his joints were going stiff from cold. Nobody was out tonight, at least not where they were looking, so they'd been standing on rooftops all night, up there in the wind and doing nothing to warm themselves such as fighting bad guys. Robin was cold, he was tired, he was hungry, and he was miserable. And, to make matters worse, there were clouds gathering overhead, suggesting that some icy rain was going to fall some time soon.

"Want to call it a night?," Robin made sure to ask the question in as mild a manner as possible.

Batman glared at him as though he'd suggested that they give up crime fighting altogether. Robin almost expected some kind of barbed comment. But then, finally, Batman just shrugged and turned towards home. It would take forever to get back. They'd come a long way on foot, and all for no apparent reason. Robin had to bite his tongue to keep himself from making a comment about it.

They made their way back home slowly, and in utter silence. But even in the quiet, without looking at Batman, Robin could feel a tension in the air. He hoped it was just the arriving storm, which began to announce its presence in brief flashes of weak lightning. Then it started raining. By the time they got home, both were soaked through and Robin, at least, was shivering.

Batman was in the lead all the way home, but paused at the entrance to the batcave. Robin hesitated for a moment, but was so cold he decided that he didn't care what Batman might be thinking about and went ahead inside. He wanted to change clothes immediately, but held off on that, in case Batman was going to tell him they needed to go back out for some reason. It was about five o'clock, and he couldn't imagine what they could do at this time of the morning, but he wouldn't argue.

The cave wasn't especially warm, Robin's breath frosted in the bluish light of the computer screen. But at least it was dry and the wind couldn't get in. That was good enough.

Robin's only warning was the kind which cannot be accurately explained. Though frequently referred to as a 'sixth sense', those without supernatural connections have it. Many consider it to be a combination of training, experience and purest instinct, others have suggested that the subconscious takes in and processes more information than the conscious mind can handle, registering things with all five senses that we are not consciously aware of. Whatever it was, it probably saved his life.

The prickling sensation at the back of his neck told Robin to duck, which is precisely what he did. The kick, intended to hit him in the small of his back, missed almost entirely, only slightly clipping his shoulder. It was enough to send him sprawling.

He quickly rolled to protect his stomach, crouching on hands and knees as Batman turned for another assault. Robin's brain took a second to reconcile what he was seeing. He was being attacked for absolutely no reason, by the one person who, up until this moment, he had trusted above all others, including even himself.

There was a split-second where their eyes locked. Years of training, of trusting in one another, of understanding and accepting one another as equals... and it had come to this. Robin could not explain or excuse it. There could be but one explanation, which Robin had refused to even think about until this unprovoked and unreasoning attack. The darkness of Batman's eyes revealed to him the truth, the truth his dreams had been trying to force on him for weeks now.

Madness. Unequivocal, undeniable, inescapable, insanity. Batman did not look on him with a lack or recognition, but with a heart piercing loathing which Robin couldn't possibly begin to understand. In his eyes was desire, a lust which could not be denied. Robin knew then what he had to do. But he couldn't. No matter what, he couldn't do it. Even though his own survival, and the safety of countless innocents, was on the line, he couldn't bring himself to even fight back, much less attempt to kill. This was the man who had made him what he was, who had taught him to be Robin.

To attack him would be akin to attacking himself. The better part of him.

That left Robin with but one option. Run.