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Chapter 1

Robin: Evasion

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He ran. He was ashamed of it later, but for now, he had to run. Stripped all of the hero off of him until he was merely Grayson, just globe hopping, looking for something more. Again and again, more.

Beautiful scenery touched no chord of delight in his heart, and he turned away from it, coldly. The Grand Canyon spread out from under his feet, grand and majestic. The sunlight stained the rocks pale pink, brilliant yellow, dusky purple – he saw but did not see. The roar of the Niagara Falls fell on deaf ears. Metropolis's bright night scenery made him wince; too much like Gotham. London, Paris, Istanbul, Sicily, Moscow, Beijing… He checked into the best hotels, rode in taxis, then went away after a few days into each city. All the major cities of the 7 continents he visited, never exceeding five days in each place.

Bruce called him after a while. Dick was expecting this, he knew Bruce – no, Batman – had tabs on him and his credit card, which he was using rather loosely. But at the same time, he hadn't expected cold, indifferent Bruce to contact him. Bruce shouldn't have called. He had never been very good at vocalizing his own feelings.

Come home at once, Bruce's low voice growled through the phone. You're being an idiot.

What he meant was: I'm worried about you. I'm worried about the weight of the blame you're taking upon your own shoulders. I want to help you, as your father, your guardian, your mentor.

But Bruce, despite his expert analytical mind when it came to other people, could not decipher his own heart enough to spell out what he truly wanted Dick to hear.

Physician, heal thyself.

Dick hung up. He flew to Sydney and promptly lost himself in the wilderness of the outback and the great blue beckoning of the sea. The silence and vastness made him wonder what would happen if he just pulled off the scuba gear and stayed under the beautiful blue water. Quiet, serene water ending his wandering heart forever. Swimming on his back, looking at the distorted wavering of the sun through the choppy waves, his temptation took him as far as grasping the tubes of his air tank, as if to pull them out. His head broke the surface, and he treaded water until he reached the boat.

At night, he visited a pharmacy and requested over-the-counter sleeping pills. Lying down on the plush hotel bed, he pulled out a handful, wondering if he should just end it here and now. He looked into the whiteness of the pills resting innocently on his hand and remembered the brightness of smiling teeth he once saw and loved.

Earth is an amazing place too.

Fireworks. A Ferris wheel.

A piercing cry inundated with grief tore itself from his throat and shattered the silence. The pills clattered across the hardwood floor, some smashing to bits from the force of the throw. He shoved his face onto the pillow, hating himself for letting the tears fall, for being so damn weak, for losing her, for letting her suffer.

I never even told her…

A sob rose unbidden from his heart, and he could not shove it down this time.

that…that I…

She would hate him for sure if she knew. She would turn her head away, ashamed…he could see it so clearly, as if she was standing in front of him right now…she would pity him but not…never…love.

After all, she wasn't dead. Drawing the covers around his now-still shoulders, he gazed pensively at the dark ceiling. He didn't even know what color it was, he hadn't bothered to see when it was light. She would have noticed it, she would have gushed about the dark red lampshade on the bedside table too…she would have looked at him with those luminescent green eyes with shining wonder and curiosity and amazement. Was there love there? He had questioned himself for many nights before, questioned his own thudding heart and blushing face, and the answer was always, maddeningly: maybe.

And now he may never know. After all, she wasn't dead…but she was lost in time. That villain Warp had said he was from the future, one hundred years into the future.

One hundred years.

Right now, he was sixteen. So that meant he would have to be one hundred and sixteen years old to see her again. Star. Starfire. Dick forced himself to use her name. He would be an old, old man and she would still be sixteen years old. If he even survived that long.

Most likely, he would die long before that. Most likely, Star – he must keep saying her name to keep her real – would read about him in the historical archives. He could see the headlines: Robin Abandons Team, Teen Titans, Disbanded?, and last but definitely the worst, Richard Grayson, 16, commits suicide in his hotel room in Sydney, Australia…

Starfire would know. She may not know that he was Richard Grayson, but if he didn't reappear elsewhere, she would know he had given up on everything. If not his life, then on protecting people from harm – and she would be ashamed of him.

He had to remain strong. He had to keep fighting.* So that even if he never, ever saw Star again, she could remember Robin as a hero, without anything tarnishing her memories of him.

The very next day, he hopped onto a plane headed for New York. Wildcat would train him if he asked nicely…though he wouldn't mention that he was not on speaking terms with Batman. That would lead to a long and unnecessary talking-to.

Training again was hard. With the Titans, it was he that pushed everyone to their limits – here, Wildcat was the one pushing him. It cut down on his pride and he wanted to quit at least five times a day. He supposed this was also due to his lack of sufficiency in boxing; he was more of a acrobat type, keeping swift on his feet, dodging blows, using explosives and birdarangs to distract the foe before punching, kicking and knocking the foe down. From Batman he had learned the art of melding into shadows and taking opponents by surprise. Those were his strengths.

Facing it one-on-one, fist-to-fist without resorting to trickery and smoke pellets was hard. It just wasn't the style he was used to. As they fought, the blue boxing gloves feeling unnatural to his hands, he found himself habitually reaching for something in his nonexistent utility belt.

"You're just like him."

They had never said more than what was necessary for everyday life ever since Dick had asked Wildcat to train him. Taken aback, Dick looked up. Ted had taken one of his gloves off and was working on the other.

"Who?" he asked warily.

"Batman," Wildcat replied, as if stating the obvious. "He was forever reaching for his belt too. Beats me how you two are both willing to bet your life on that thing. What if you lost it? Eh? Then where would you be?"

Just like Batman. Dick would have considered this an insult a year ago. Now he just shrugged. If it would carve him a name and give him the strength to carry on, it didn't matter much. He would take to the shadows, turn silent and taciturn and menacing if it gave him strength.

Days made weeks, and weeks made months. Furiously, he worked. If he was not in the ring, he was next to a punching bag, willing to pummel with mounting passion for hours and hours. He ran laps around the gym without being prompted to, and threw his birdarangs at targets he made from scraps of discarded wood. Rain and wind were welcomed as an opportunity to hone his skills even further. On the outside, Starfire seemed to be forgotten, but she was always flitting at the edge of Dick's mind.

Sometimes at night, battered and bruised from the day's work, he would dream of Starfire sitting on his bed, carefully bandaging his hand, looking down at him with unfathomable eyes. At times he thought they were tender and soothing, sometimes they were pitying, and still other times he thought them approving. Rarely, she would seem angry. Those were the nights he could not fulfill his own standards and he made a stupid mistake that earned him another injury.

Gotta keep fighting.

Six months. That's when Dick finally managed to win against Wildcat in a match. It was a long, hard match and luck had been on his side, but the facts still stood that he had won. He stood breathless and tense, swaying slightly. How would he take the blow?

For a few seconds, Wildcat just lay there, then put a hand up. Dick immediately pulled him up, and Wildcat, like the good teacher he was, patted Dick's shoulder and said,

"Good match, son."

Dick let out a long breath. He had done it. A small smile lifted the corners of his mouth, his lips cracking with the long-unused gesture. "Yeah. Thanks."

The next night, he was on a plane to Japan, on the way to Bruce's old teacher. He had politely asked for a chance to train, stating that he had learned the basics from Bruce but needed some fine-tuning. He had not specified when he would be able to go, but Sensei had accepted him all the same…

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A/N I've decided to go with the seemingly third-person point of view for this story. Most likely it will make you feel a little detached with everything…know then that this is planned. I'm trying to portray that everything is cold.

Did you notice that when Dick was solitary there was a lot more of "he" and "she" and a lot less of conversations? I was trying to map out for you Dick's mind…not sure if I succeeded. This style is very new to me after all…some critique will be welcomed. You can be as harsh as you want, it will not affect me negatively.

*This line is from an episode of Pokemon…well, similar to what was said there. It's been years and years since I ever even thought of Pokemon. Kudos to those who remember.

Earth is an amazing place too. – Starfire, episode Sisters.

Physician heal thyself: intended to show that Bruce couldn't do for himself what he did for others…no one is supposed to actually say this.

Yes, I've put this on hiatus for…wow. A year. You are all allowed to pummel me to bits. I've done what I swore I wouldn't do!! TT_TT

Still would love to have reviews though. =is hit by tomatoes=