Dark Times

An idea I needed to get out of my head, not even BBRae! Enjoy!

Pain. Darkness.

The only two things Robin knew right now were pain and darkness. He was tied to a chair in a pitch black room and had been there for what seemed like hours. During that time he had been beaten, whipped, burned and shocked. His abductor hadn't spoken a single word. He tried to disconnect, to apply his mind to his predicament and start seeking an escape route. The dull slap of the fists hitting his face seemed to echo, assuming it wasn't just in his head. That meant a large room, judging by the delay. More than that, he couldn't fathom. His face throbbed, his ribs were cracked and he was sure his left arm was fractured. He didn't know how much more of this he could stand. A sudden and violent bout of coughing ripped through his body, interrupting his jailer and tearing at the many tiny cuts and burns all over his naked torso. Through the haze of his pain, he was grateful that the mask was still on. Batman had always valued secrecy and had invested a great deal of time and money into making his and Robin's masks almost impossible to forcibly remove short of surgery.

Robin hoped his captor wasn't willing to go that far.

Leaning over as far as he could given his bondage, he spat out a clot of blood he had coughed up, possible accompanied by a tooth. Blood leaked from the corner of his mouth and his nose. Still, he straightened his neck and aimed what he hoped was a withering gaze in what he hoped was the direction of his kidnapper. There was a quiet chuckle and, in that moment, he knew who held him.

"Slade," he growled, the word distorted by his aching jaw and swollen lip. Said villain drew close enough to be caught in the light.

"Even now, you impress me, Robin. Few men would have survived such a beating, let alone remain silent." Slade's calm voice slithered over Robin's skin, making him shiver in fury and revulsion.

"So what, you're just gonna punch me into being your apprentice now? I thought even you had a little more creativity," Robin snarled, speaking slowly as he forced his injured mouth around the words. Slade adopted an almost regretful posture.

"Not this time. This time, I'm under contract. You know what that means..." the man said, meaningfully.

"Someone paid you to beat me?" Robin asked.

"Someone paid me to kill you. Eventually," he answered, seemingly at ease with the horrors he was inflicting on the young man.

"Finally gave up on me, huh?" Robin answered back, trying to buy a little time.

"They paid a lot. Even you, Robin, are not priceless." Slade stood straight and just stared at his quarry. Robin, though he ruthlessly suppressed it, was afraid.

"They'll find me," he insisted. Slade chuckled again.

"And how will your friends find you? Teamwork? Togetherness? The power of friendship? Or did you, perhaps, mean the subdermal tracker I found in your arm?" Robin was visibly aghast.

"H-how?" he muttered.

"My client had very good intel. My drones laid a hundred false scent trails to confound the green one. This entire block is shielded from mysticism, so you can count Raven out as well. From above, this is one of many derelict factories, nothing to attract the attention of your alien who, I'm sure, is searching for you from the sky as we speak." Robin slumped in the chair and Slade, though he was honestly not looking forward to the completion of the job, exulted in the defeat of his enemy.

Robin didn't know what to do. Even if he somehow got free, Slade was a dangerous opponent for him at his best. He wasn't even sure if he could stand. Hope left him. Then, with a twitch, he felt... something. He stilled himself as well as he could, trying to confirm. There was a presence...

"How... how long ago did you remove the tracker?" he asked, painfully. Slade, uncertain, answered the question anyway.

"Two hours, give or take. If anyone knew where you were, they would be here by now," he said, menacingly. To his great annoyance, Robin smirked at him.

"What if they already are?" he said, enigmatically. Slade couldn't quite describe what he saw or felt in that moment. In the gloom behind Robin, somehow he percieved a greater darkness looming. He stepped back as Robin's ropes were somehow cut. Two narrow and blank white eyes appeared in a now discernable shape towering over the wounded hero. A great, dark mantle, topped by a cowl with two pointed ears.

"Batman!" Slade barked. The shape leapt forward, momentarily visible in the cone of light as the vigilante, Batman. Robin, free of the contstricting ropes, had no choice but to sit and watch as his mentor battled his nemesis. There were several painful grunts that were unmistakably - and gratifyingly - Slade. After a battle that was silent but for the crunch of bone and thud of fist and foot, Slade came skidding into the circle of light. On his back. The mask was gone and now his own face was bruised and bloodied. The towering, billowing darkness of the Batman approached. Slade recoiled. Batman suddenly lunged forward, grabbing Slade by the collar and lifting him from the floor.

"Robin is protected," he said, dropping the man back to the ground. "And don't worry about that advance payment. A colleague of mine has already found and transferred the money... into the TItanss funds." Incensed, Slade snarled and lunged, throwing a haymaker at Batman's head. The Dark Knight ducked the blow, catching the offending limb at the elbow and, with the correct application of strength...

*SNAP*

Slade howled in pain. Batman and Robin looked on, utterly devoid of sympathy. The sound of approaching sirens spurred Batman into motion. He gently lifted Robin from the chair and held him to his side, making sure Robin had a decent grip around his neck. He fired his grapnel and in a blink, Batman and Robin were gone.

Several blocks away, once he felt they were far enough from the scene, Batman let Robin down gently, making sure he could support himself. Robin leaned against a wall while Batman opened a discreetly hidden bag he had left before making his way to Robin. He pullled some basic medical supplies and began to tend to Robin's injuries. Many were beyond his small kit, but Robin was grateful all the same. He watched as the big man, with hands that knew so many ways to inflict damage and pain, nursed his hurts with heartfelt tenderness. He and his adoptive father hadn't always seen eye-to-eye, but each would do anything for the other. The nightmare escaped and the need for adrenaline and control gone, the magnitude of what he had gone through weight down on Robin.

"I picked up the signal from the backup tracker under your scalp when Slade deactivated the first one," Batman explained as he worked. "Checked in with the Titans - they know I have you, by the way - and found out you were missing. The rest you know. The Batplane is on its way here, then I'll get you back to your Tower and get you some proper medical atten..." Batman paused when he saw Robin's lip tremble slightly. He swallowed. FIghting deadly assassins and patching up wounds, he could do. Support an emotionally shattered young man? He had never trained for that...

"Robin," he said. Robin looked up at him, face stern. The trembling lessened, the young man clearly trying to stop the inevitable. Batman mentally kicked himself for addressing him like that, making it sound like he was asking for more control from the boy. Uncertainly, he reached out and, pressing the correct spots, removed Robin's domino mask. He then quickly did the same to his cowl, pushing it back from his face to show the concerned eyes of Bruce Wayne. "Dick..." Bruce whispered.

"Bruce..." Dick Grayson lurched into the arms of the man who was so many people to him: mentor, teacher, caregiver, parent, friend and compatriot. He knew he would struggle with this for a long time. Robin would return and lead the Titans in the good fight but, for now, Dick Grayson lay in the arms of Bruce Wayne and cried.

"Thank you..."

Well! An unusual subject for me, but this idea wouldn't leave me alone. Hope you like it ^_^

-Jack