I4.6

Chapter 9: Reckless Dreaming

Disclaimer: I own nothing. Adult themes. DO NOT read if you are underage or dislike controversial things.

Author's Note: This chapter was a struggle to write. It kicked my butt. Smh.

The high before the crash is a feeling that Richard knew well. He can feel it behind his eyes and in the jittery way that he is moving. Not at all like his usual fluid self. Sleep deprivation is no joke and can really affect a person's mood and performance. Sleep deprivation coupled with an experimental drug is a recipe for disaster but Richard was too emotionally wired to care. Saturday night was an eye opening experience and Sunday took more energy out of him than he wanted to admit. Anger, frustration and a general sense of helplessness had made him reckless. His body was definitely paying for it now as he carefully drives back to the Titian Tower in the early hours of Monday morning. All of the windows were down and the crisp morning air is sobering him up a bit. It smells like rain and feels like a new beginning.

Bruce and Alfred had described I4.6's side effects as relatively harmless for human consumption. Reckless curiosity, a moment of mental instability and the invincibility of youth had him fiddling with the vials in the cooler. What's the worse that could happen? If anything were to go wrong he knew that he had a strong medical team at his back to fix it. Besides, they could add his response of a low dosage of the drug to the small data set that they already have. At least, that's how he rationalized it to himself. He was taking one for the team. If he was being truly honest, however, he just wanted to feel something else. Something that both his mind and body can focus on and work together to overcome. He was hoping that it would take his mind off of her and all of the tumultuous feelings that came with her. Emotions that cannot be neatly compartmentalized and that refuse to be locked away in the back of his mind like before.

He knew better than to consume a whole vial. He wasn't trying to inadvertently die and there were no addictive ingredients included in this drug. The sole purpose of this concoction was to immobilize the enemy. If he was going to use this on someone else, shouldn't he make sure that it's safe first? He's been tased multiple times before, beaten with his own spring loaded rod, and pierced by batarangs among other things. His own weapons have been used against him during training sessions and in real life combat situations, so how was experiencing the side effects of this drug any different? This wouldn't be his first encounter with chemical weapons, either. He's inhaled the Joker's laughing gas, sampled Scarecrow's hallucination serum and been drugged in other ways more times than he cares to count. All before he finished puberty. He should personally make sure that it's effective and won't cause lasting damage to the enemy. He is a hero, after all. He convinced himself that he was being a hero instead of a coward as he swallowed a teaspoon of I4.6. For science!

This plan sorely backfired on him. He thought he would be too busy assessing the physical and mental effects of the drug to be agonizing over his woman...who isn't really his, yet. But he actually spent the majority of his bed rest time thinking of nothing but her. As this drug worked its way through his system, it became increasingly difficult for him to string together sentences but his mind was actively working. It took him down memory land. Grand moments became small and insignificant while snapshots of images and events were magnified and amplified. As he laid there thinking, he realized that his memories were not quite how he remembered them. Especially those moments that featured Rachel. He couldn't quite focus on her while Alfred was fluttering around his bed and berating him for being so irresponsible with his health. Bruce was calmly monitoring his vitals to make sure he doesn't flatline on that marvelous Sunday morning. Eventually, both men were satisfied with the knowledge that he is out of danger and that his body will eventually work the drug out of his system. They left him in the care of Jason, who thankfully, left him alone. He gave Richard's energy less body a hard once over before half asking and half stating, "I hope you're not like this cause of a girl."

He had tried to respond, but his vocal cords and jaw were slow to move and his speech was so slurred that it was difficult to understand. Eventually, Richard gave up trying to speak or move and Jason lost interest. He left the older Batboy alone so that he could rest properly and checked in on him periodically to make sure he was still alive. Once Richard was all alone, he closed his eyes and controlled his breathing. He had attempted to test his mobility by moving specific body parts on command. His fingers and toes twitched in response after a delay in thought. There seems to be a barrier of some sort that makes it difficult for the synapses in the brain to communicate their messages to his nerves and muscles. Being in this state would be deadly in a real fight. He is mobile but extremely sluggish. It took him roughly 15 to 20 minutes to make his way to the bathroom, use it and find his way back to bed. I4.6 is doing what it was designed to do. However, he knew that he would have to take these results with a grain of salt. Richard is not super human. He does not posses extraordinary powers such as flight or shifting. How this would actually effect someone with those biological predispositions is yet to be seen. Those thoughts, coupled with the sound of rain pitter pattering outside his window at the Wayne residence lulled him into very vivid dreams.

All three of those randomized dream events starred Rachel. He couldn't escape her in real life or even in his sleep. Even now, as he guides his car back to the Tower and back to her, he can't escape her. He doesn't want to. Those dreams though...they felt like a fusion of his memories and deepest, darkest feelings. Someone once told him that dreams showed you your true fears and desires. If that's true, then Richard both fears Rachel and desires her in equal parts. It was quite a revelation to come to as he laid there, practically bedridden.

She was standing so deep in the shadows that he barely noticed her. Navy blue cape wrapped tightly around her body. Hood covering her face. The glint of her chakra gem gleaming as it refracts whatever light manages to touch it. They were about the same height when they first met each other. He was to be her new team leader and it appeared as though she wanted nothing to do with him. He was also unsure about how to go about leading such a standoffish young teenager whose fashion sense looks like it was a cry for help. He didn't dislike her, but he knew that it was going to take some work to get along with her, much less to get to know her. He was more than unnerved when she floated out of the shadows to "greet" him, but it was his job as leader to be pleasant.

"Hi! I'm Robin. I'll be leading this team. It's nice to meet you, Raven," Robin says with his best smile. It was a smile that he had practiced countless times, both in costume and out. He stuck his hand out hoping that she would take it and shake it. He had read the profile that Batman gave him about every member of the Teen Titians. He knew from the start that she was the reclusive type and wouldn't speak much. He knew that her background was murky and that her powers were demonic. He knew that she was learning how to harness those powers in a more constructive way. Her mother was human, but he didn't find out until much later that her father was Trigon.

Raven inclined her head to his greeting, but didn't verbally respond. It had annoyed him a little. The lack of verbal response could be misconstrued as disrespect towards the leader. Robin worked very hard at trying to keep his face neutral and not give away his displeasure. Would she disregard a direct command? She seems like the type who would if it wasn't asked correctly. He decided to test the theory, "Now that we will be working together to complete missions...do you think I can see your face?"

Her body tensed beneath the cloak and there was hesitation as two pale hands reached out of the dark abyss. Slender fingers wrapped around the edges of the cloak's hood. There was a slight pause before she gently pulls her hood back to reveal her face to his hunger eyes for the first time. He wasn't expecting her to be as pretty as she was. He assumed someone wielding demonic powers would have horns or a scary face. His eyes dart to the floor to check for hooves; just in case he was missing something. When he glanced back up to her face he was met with a pair of the most striking violet eyes. The color was a vibrant shade that he didn't think would be possible without cosmetic contacts. But these eyes were real and they were studying him. He realized very quickly that underneath that stoically exotic exterior lives a sharp intellect. She was analyzing him as much as he was appraising her and he was silently thankful that she was as much brain as brawn. A real smile ghosted over Robin's lips...

She had blushed so prettily in return that day. How was he supposed to know that that pretty face, with the soft, round cheeks, full lips and beautiful eyes would come to haunt him years later? His initial impression of her was that she was just a pretty, sad, goth girl. A dime a dozen. The world is full of girls like that. How was he supposed to know that she is an intellectual powerhouse that is capable of crunching statistical figures and arguing about the meaning of life until 3am? That she has read as much, if not more, than him? That she has a secret sweet tooth and burns incense to lull herself asleep? That she feels like a dream when wrapped up in his arms? How was he supposed to know these things from then? Even if he did know, it probably wouldn't have changed anything. Even though there was a brief moment when his eyes were trained on Starfire, Rachel had housed herself in the back of his mind. There was no way to evict her now. He didn't want to, either. Now, all Richard wants to do is burrow as deeply into her mind, body and soul as he can get. So deep that when she looks at him, she sees home; when she hears him, she heeds him; when she touches him, she feels a man beneath her fingertips.

Her friendship meant the world to him, but he is craving something more. Richard ponders on all of the possible ways that he can achieve his goals as he pulls into a diner's parking lot because he is also craving food. It has been a while since he ate something and he can feel the dizziness from low blood sugar creeping in. Some coffee and a bagel should do it. He checks his pockets for change before shutting off the car's engine and making his way into the establishment. Even though it is early in the morning, there are a couple families enjoying breakfast together and a few stragglers at the counter. One table caught his eye in particular. It was a quaint family of four with both parents dressed for work and both of their children are in their school uniform.

"What can I get ya, handsome?" asks the older waitress behind the counter. She has a pleasant enough smile on her face as she holds a pad and pen in her hands.

"I would like a toasted bagel and cream cheese and black coffee to go," Richard replies with a nod.

"You got it, sweetie," she says as she turns around to place the order with the kitchen staff. Richard's attention is drawn back to the table when he hears a loud cry of "Mom!" Sure enough, one little girl is aggressively pulling on her sister's braid. "She took my toast!"

"You wasn't gonna eat it!"

"Yes I was!" is shouted with another aggressive tug of hair. Both parents swoop in to end the conflict and Richard smiles to himself. Children. Wife. Standard 9 to 5. Are those things meant for his future? He's not sure if he'd be able to adequately balance family life and vigilante crime fighting. It would be nice, though. Richard idly wonders to himself what it would feel like to return to a house and not a tower. To open the door and be greeted with happy cries of Daddy. To see a woman smiling at him...violet hair grown pass her shoulders. What would he tell these fictitious children when they ask what he does for a living? Beat up bad guys in a cape and tights? Raising children is not for the faint of heart. He might be willing to try if his daughter looks like little Rachel's inner child. The child that he dreamt of last night. The child he went to hell and back for.

Raven's little voice is so very different than the one he is used to hearing. The strange feeling of dé·jà vu alerted him to that fact that this is another one of those lucid dreams. A byproduct of I4.6. He decided not to fight this and just allow his memories to play out as he tries to recover. Little Raven is looking up at him with fear and trepidation in her large violet eyes. She is unsure of him. As though all of the times they spent together meant nothing. This version of Raven probably doesn't even know that she knows him. That stings a little, even though he knows that it shouldn't. This moment isn't about his pride, but about her safety. About getting her to trust him with herself.

An innocent, childlike Raven stares at his out stretched hand as though it will attack her. She doesn't understand much in this moment. She just knows that the place she called home is destroyed. The monks that she has bonded with are nowhere to be found. She is tired, stressed and confused. Staring a strange young man in the face. He is offering to help her, but the monks have taught her that there are dangers everywhere. They taught her that she is a danger. Wasn't she the reason why her home was destroyed? Did she kill them all? Does she even deserve to be saved? She will bring about the end of the world. She is her father's daughter and there is nothing anyone can do to change that. Trigon is coming for her. Trigon is coming for them all.

"...but I've found you. You don't need to be afraid anymore. I can help you…" Robin gently tells her. This is his last chance to get her back and he will not fail. Even if he has to drag her out of hell kicking and screaming. He will not lose her again. She meant too much to him. She deserved to live a happy life as much as the rest of them. Eventually, that child takes his hand and allows him to lead her back into the world of the living. Away from the hell of her father's devising. Little Raven looked at him with so much trust in her eyes when she realized that they were friends and he was there to help her, instead of hurting her...

Adult Rachel trusts him without question, but not as blindly as little Raven did. Little Raven, cloaked in white, clung to him as though her life and sanity depended on it. That is what he wants his Rachel to do. Cling to him and only him. Hasn't he proven time and time again that he is the only one with her best interests at heart? It wasn't Beastboy or Cyborg or Starfire that led her out of that lava filled cavern. He was the one speaking hope and truth to her as he carried her on his back. It wasn't them that she threw her arms around and hugged so tightly when she defeated her father and put him back in his place. It was him. She came to him. Pressed her cheek against his as she flung her whole weight into that embrace because she knew, she trusted, that he is strong enough to catch her. To hold her. To guide her. Rachel carries the torch of hope for everyone else while she allows herself to reside in the darkness. If he could get her to look at him and only him, then she would never need to worry about things like that again.

That particular experience really took it's toll on him. He thought he had lost her forever. That thought sent a shiver down his spine. It has him reaching for his communicator and searching for her anklet. It is pinging at Titan Tower and there is a sigh of relief from Richard as he takes a sip of his hot coffee. At least she's home and not waking up in some strange man's bed. That thought really ticked him off. How much fun did you have on Saturday night, Rachel?

Thinking about their last argument was putting him in a very dark mood. Coupled with the lingering side effect of I4.6 and Richard is a very grumpy boy right now. Wondering about how many men had raked their eyes across Rachel's body or tried to touch her on Saturday night had him grinding his teeth in frustration. Who would she let touch her? Beastboy? Bryce? The thought of either one of those men grinding on her in the middle of a dark dance floor turns the taste of his breakfast to ash in his mouth. His mind replacing both men with the image of Slade. That was his third lucid dream under the influence of the drug. The night of Rachel's birthday.

She was stunning.

She stood on that rooftop without her customary cape to hide her form from prying eyes. Her hair had grown down to her waist. Leotard was ripped in several places. Her skin was exposed. She was exposed. The red markings that ran up and down her body were glowing an angry red. Her long, shapely legs were buckling under the strain of not trying to destroy the world. She breasts were heaving as she panted with panic in Slade's presence. Rachel's limp body was bracing against Slade's as he was holding her in place by her arms. He could practically feel the sexual tension radiating off of that old pervert. How often does he have a helpless, beautiful young woman trapped in his embraced? At his mercy? He was whispering unseemly things in her ear with his deep, dark voice…

"Yes. Look at it. Drink it all in...Behold, the world you are destined to create."

"This is the future...Your future...It began the day you were born, and nothing can stop it…"

"This will come to pass. I will make sure of it…"

His beloved's face contours in horror and agony with each twisted whisper and Richard finds himself becoming angrier and angrier. He was worried about his friend. His beloved friend, who was suffering at the hands of the man he loathes the most. But undercutting all of this fear and hostility is jealousy. Yes, Richard is jealous of Slade in this moment. The changes in Rachel's exposed body, the pained expression on her lovely face and having her at the complete mercy of another man stirs something deeply dark and aggressively possessive that should not exist in the Boy Wonder. That should not exist in any hero.

When Slade drops her body off of the building and disappears, Richard breathes a sigh of relief. He caught her in his arm as he swung them to safety. He held her close as she regains consciousness. As he waits for her to come to her senses, he assesses her body...for damages. At least, that's what he tells himself. Her feet are still clad in their traditional navy booties. The red Ss that slithered across her pale skin were starting to fade. He had to actively stop himself from touching the smooth legs on display before him. He drags his eyes over the width of her hips and compares it to the narrowness of her waist. Flat, toned torso exposed to his hawk like gaze. His fingers had tighten their hold on her as his eyes made its way over her panting ribcage. He licked his lips when he noticed that her skin was goose fleshed and her nipples were hard from the cold. Thankfully, he made it to her face before she opened her eyes. He felt like a lecher in that moment, but pushed it aside because his beloved friend finally realized who was holding her and completely relaxed in his arms…

That night had been Richard's sexual awakening towards Rachel. He always knew that she was a pretty girl. He learned over time that she has a beautiful soul. But that night...that night he realized that there was something that only she could offer him. That dark revelation scared him so badly that he locked it away in the deepest, darkest part of his mind and hoped to suffocate it. But keeping it away from the light only allowed it to fester faster and infest just about every interaction that he has had with her since. Sometimes, it manifests itself in smaller inappropriate thoughts, other times he allows it to run free like he did with Saturday night's fantasy. Lately, keeping himself in check has become increasingly difficult and he feels as though he doesn't have the energy to fight it anymore.

As long as her eyes willingly turned to him, then he was able to keep this beast at bay. If he couldn't defile her body, then at least he has her attention. But now, she's looking elsewhere for friendship and comfort as though their relationship isn't enough for her. As though she wants more. If that's what she wanted, then all she had to do was ask. Richard couldn't help but to think that he has more than enough in store for her as he guides the car back onto the highway. All she had to do was ask politely, in the right position.

Her anklet is still pinging away on his communicator in the passenger seat next to him. After that birthday, he had wanted to give her something nice. Something to make her feel pretty again because he knew that she felt as though she's been dirtied by Slade's hands. Sullied. There were bruises on her arms from where he had held her too tight. Richard had wondered why she didn't just heal them. He had justified the GPS anklet by telling himself that he was worried she would be kidnapped again. Taken from him too soon. Besides, he was always fond of practical gifts. The anklet is a present for her and peace of mind for him. After all, she's the most likely candidate to be kidnapped out of all the other Titans. He's never really used it to track her whereabouts, but it keeps him calm to know that he can find her if he needs. Lately, he's been needing that reassurance more and more. Lately, he's been feeling as though he is losing control over her and himself.

Needing to always be in control has been one of his strongest strengths and greatest weakness. He needs to regain control so that he can be at ease again. How should I go about doing that?, is what he thinks to himself as the garage door at Titan Tower opens for him. It's still pretty early in the morning so there isn't a lot of movement in the building. Richard quickly gathers his things and the cooler full of vials as he makes his way to his room. He stashes the cooler in a secure section in his room, behind a hidden wall that needs a combination code in order to gain access. Then, he sorts through his duffle bag, puts everything back where it belongs and places his dirty clothes in the hamper. He will deal with that later. He glances at his inviting bed, but decides against it. There is too much work that needs to be completed before he has earned rest time and one woman that needs to look at his dark circles so that she can realize what she's done to him.

He makes his way to his office, boots up his computer and starts working. It's only a matter of time before his teammates realize that he's here and come to see him since he has been gone all weekend. As he is working, a message pops up on his communicator from Alfred. He is just checking in on Richard to make sure that he is still alive and that he made it back to the Tower in one peace. There is also information about a psych evaluation. Alfred didn't feel comfortable with Richard's willingness to take an experimental drug that could have lasting effects on him physically and mentally. He will be sending the information for the mental health evaluation shortly and that he expects Richard to comply. Richard isn't too bothered by this evaluation. It wouldn't be the first time he took one and it's not like he doesn't know what the test is looking for. He is confident that he will be classified as "sane." He pauses when he hears Alfred mention the name "Rachel." Apparently, he kept mumbling her name as he floated in and out of consciousness yesterday. Now, Alfred is concerned that he might be developing a drug addiction because he's love sick. If only the trusty butler knew the truth.

A small smile ghosts over Richard's lips when he hears a soft knock on the door and an even softer calling of "Dick?" He knew who that deep feminine voice belonged to and could feel some of his exhaustion dissipate at knowing that she's so close.

"Come in," he calls in return. Swinging around to greet her...and Beastboy. He feels that tiredness come back in full force at seeing his other subordinate standing behind his Rachel in the doorway. Her eyes are honed in on his face and slouching posture as he sits in his work chair. She is taking in his drooping, bloodshot eyes and dark circles. There are stress lines around his mouth and forehead from frowning so much over the last few days. That's right Rachel. Take a good look at what you've done to me.

"Man, you look like shit," comes Beastboy's unsolicited comment. This causes Richard to frown even harder. He was already pissed at the green buffoon for spending too much time with Rachel and taking her to weird places while he was away. If she wasn't in the room and he didn't want her sympathy then he would have put Beastboy in his place. Instead, he drops his head into his hands and begins to gently massage his eyes.

"Batman had sent us a message letting us know that you aren't feeling very well. That's why we're here to check up on you," came Rachel's concerned voice. He nods his head in understanding, but doesn't say anything. Just as he predicted, there is a soft swish of fabric as she walks toward him and places her two soft hands on both sides of his temples. She is gently pumping her healing energy into his blurry vision.

"It sucks that you're sick, Robin. Is there anything I can do for you, man?" asks Beastboy from the doorway. You can leave us the fuck alone. Instead, Richard wraps his hands around Rachel's wrists, pulls away from her touch and says, "Some tea would be nice."

"You got it!" is chirped from the doorway as he disappears down the hall. He still has her by her wrists and wants to pull her into his lap, but he knows she won't come willingly.

"You look terrible, Dick. You shouldn't be working right now. You need rest," she says gently.

"There are too many things that need to get done," he says with a shake of his head. She is standing between his legs. Her smell is taunting his senses. Her heat is inviting him to embrace her. "If I ask you to hug me, would you do it?"

She doesn't hesitate to wrap her arms around him and he allows his head to fall against her chest. He can feel the soft swell of her breasts beneath his cheek. If he turns his head, he could nestle deeper into them. Instead, he wraps his arms securely around her waist and inhales deeply. She is real. She is here. She is better than a strand of hair and his fantasies.

"I don't know what's going on, but I know that you are not well and need to rest. You should go to bed," she softly says against the crown of his head. She is clearly worried for her friend. He finds himself half rubbing, half nodding against her chest. Wishing that her thin, summer t-shirt wasn't in the way.

"Yes. Take me to bed, Rachel."