Robin
Everything is black. He breathes easy, floating in a sea of black.
"Ladies and gentlemen!" a man shouts somewhere nearby, piercing the black. "Boys and girls of all ages..."
Next is music, high pitched scales playing quickly; a happy, quirky, classic sound. Then more voices, hundreds– a cacophony of voices all speaking, yelling, shouting at once. A crowd– a large crowd.
Little Richard Grayson opens his eyes. He stands behind a curtain in the red and white striped circus tent. The smell of livestock, cigarette smoke, cotton candy, and popcorn fills his nostrils.
"It's show time, Dickie," his mother says, standing behind him. The butterflies assault his stomach and he knows she's feeling them too. She stands a few feet taller than him, he has to look up to catch her eye. Her long black hair hangs back in a tight ponytail. She wears a red and green one-piece spandex outfit with yellow accents. She places a reassuring hand on his shoulder and squeezes gently.
His father walks up behind them, putting an arm around his mother and kissing her cheek.
She squirms against him and giggles. "You need to shave, mister."
"Oh I can't do that," he says. "Chicks love the stache, right Dickie?"
Dick looks up to his father, who grins back at him with a twinkle in his eye, then his grin levels out, and he nods.
"Just remember what we taught you, and you'll be fine," he says. "Keep the count, son."
"I love you, Dick," his mom adds. Dick smirks at her and lets out a long breath, then another.
"And now, without further ado," the announcer says. "The Flying Graysons!"
Dick's heart triples its pace and he walks out with his parents to thunderous applause. It's a packed house tonight for Haly's Circus. Gotham City is a sure sellout crowd, so Mister Haly always says. Dick guesses he's right.
His mother and father wave to the crowd, they smile, they walk so gracefully, like dancers just floating across the dancefloor. Seconds later, they're on top of the trapeze platforms, waiting to begin. This is all so familiar, and yet so exciting.
The crowd falls silent in anticipation.
The spotlight finds the Flying Graysons, three figures basking a bar of light amidst blackness all around them. Dick takes one last look at his father, who winks and swings away. He switches from one rope to the next with ease, and seems to float to the opposite platform, as if gravity just doesn't apply to him. The crowd applauds.
"Keep the count Dickie," his mother says.
She takes off in a graceful swing, lets go, twists in the air, and turns over into a backflip, legs together, both arms in the air, posing for the crowd, she seems to hover there far above the ground. Dick stops breathing. Right on queue, his father appears in his vision, legs grasping the trapeze. As if attracted by magnets– as if they were just made to fit together– as if two pieces of one whole– his father glides in upside down, and without even seeming to reach for her, his hands just connect with hers. A perfect fit.
The crowd erupts in cheers and applause.
Dick lets out a bunch of quick breaths as he waits for the trapeze to return. His parents reach the platform on the far end, his father keeps hold of his trapeze. Dick's trapeze swings toward him with no rider. Yet.
He reaches out and catches it. His father nods and he knows it's time. The crowd falls silent again.
Dick pulls against the swing, and jumps into the air, letting it carry him across the gap. One, two. One, two, he begins his count, his mother's voice echoing in his mind. Mind the count, Dickie. It can save your life, or our lives…
The wind rushes through his hair, the ground passes below him. He releases the swing and seems to hang, the whole world seems to stop, sound fades away until there is nothing left but the pounding of his heart. He reaches both hands into empty air.
His father catches him.
The crowd roars.
And just like that, the butterflies are gone, and he knows that this is what he was born for. They run through a few more jumps, each more difficult than the last. Never lose the count, Dickie, his mother's voice echoes again. Dick catches the swing again and takes flight. He lets go of the swing, hurling himself into the air, flipping and spinning. The crowd cheers, but he knows something is off. He has a sick feeling in his stomach, and his instincts are screaming.
I lost the count, he thinks. I released too early.
Indeed, his mother is late getting there. His hands claw at empty air, his stomach jumps into his throat. He tumbles helplessly towards the earth below.
You can't fight gravity, son, his father's voice echoes through his mind. An interesting final thought before you die. The crowd lets out a collective gasp.
He resists the urge to scream and grits his teeth, eyes tearing up as his body races towards the unforgiving ground below. His body rocks with impact as he slams into the safety net. He bounces a few times before he comes to a complete stop. He failed. He wants to vomit. How could he have failed?
The crowd cheers as he makes his way to the ground. He hangs his head in shame, knowing it was all his fault. He fights the tears in his eyes, wanting to cry. He wipes his face just once, and sets his jaw, resolute that he won't cry. His mother offers a sympathetic nod. He makes his way towards the ladder to climb back up, but his father waves him off with a shake of his head, his signal that Dick is done for the night.
Dick tries to stiffen his upper lip as he walks back towards the curtain.
"You'll get em next time, Dickie," the daughter of the animal trainer says.
Dick just shakes his head, wishing he could disappear. The girl not much older than him wears a red checkered button up shirt with the sleeves cut off, and a ratty old pair of overalls. She nudges his shoulder and tries to offer a smile while she attempts to blow strands of her black hair out of her face. He watches his parents take flight, and finds himself in awe of them.
So graceful. So amazing.
The crowd cheers wildly, then falls silent again and again.
"Alright, ladies and gentlemen," the ring announcer says. "If you're impressed now, just you wait."
He explains that the safety net will now be removed, and each of their stunts will be even more dangerous.
Even more spectacular.
Dick watches in awed silence. No matter how many times he's seen them in action, it will never get old. He watches his mother fly through the air, and for a minute, he really believes that she can fly. The way she turns in the air like she can manipulate her own gravity.
And then.
Then the unthinkable happens.
His father catches her with one strong arm, swinging with great speed. Suddenly they list to one side. The rope is tearing. God, no!
Snap!
Like a lightning strike, a snap echoes through the suddenly silent circus tent. Dick watches in helpless disbelief as his parents just drop from the swing.
The crowd lets out a horrified wail. No time to react, or even panic, he feels his legs moving on their own, sprinting towards his doomed parents as they hurdle through the air towards the ground. Something tugs on his red tunic, but he just runs harder.
"NO!"
Something blurs in front of him.
Crack!
Something warm, thick, and wet splashes his face as the most horrifying wet crack fills the tent. He opens his eyes and sees only red. He wipes at his face, but his hands come away bloody. Panic and grief beyond imagining crushes his heart. There in front of him, lay the crumpled, broken bodies of his parents. Their blood pools beneath them, expanding wider and wider around them.
"NO!" he wails, barely intelligible. "No, no, no, no..."
For a moment all is silent, and then all at once, the circus all but explodes in hysteria. People screaming and wailing, shouting, pushing, shoving, trying to escape, trying to get a closer look, trying not to get trampled– but for Dick– there's nothing– nothing but him and his parents. He falls to his knees before them, tears mixing with the blood covering his face.
"Don't..." he says. "Don't..."
His whole body heaves with each shuddering breath.
"I love you…" he says between wracking sobs. "Don't leave me..."
A new voice enters his awareness- an eerie, cold, heartless, voice. "Everyone you love will leave you," it hisses. "EVERYONE!"
His eyes rip open and he sits up in bed heaving, gasping for breath. Rain patters softly against the giant window across from the bed. He waits for his eyes to adjust to the dark. Coming back to himself, he knows he's in his room in Titans Tower.
Have you ever woken from a nightmare, and reassured yourself in the knowledge that it was just a dream? Ever told yourself that it was just a nightmare, it couldn't hurt you? Unfortunately for Robin, his nightmare is not merely a dream and though it occurred long ago, he is all too aware that it can, and in fact does hurt him.
He checks the clock. 3:37 A.M. Ugh…
He rolls from his bed, his bare torso drenched in sweat. He walks across the gray room and heads into his bathroom. He tries to catch his breath and splashes cold water on his face, and towels off the sweat.
He puts on a red hoody, and then his mask. Snapping off the light in the bathroom, he decides to head for the kitchen. The halls are quiet as they usually are at this hour. Once he reaches the kitchen, he sees that plates with dried food crusted on them clutter up the counters. The stove has grease layered on it, and the sink is piled full of dishes.
Inwardly cursing, he rolls his eyes. Looks like Cyborg had a midnight snack.
The freezer door creaks as he opens it, and his profile becomes illuminated by the light bulb in the freezer. Instead of finding his favorite ice cream, he finds a note.
Robin,
finished off your chocolate. Sorry.
Cy
A familiar presence enters his awareness, a warm sensation in his chest pulsing ever so slightly. Shaking his head, he closes the freezer door and opens the fridge, finding his chocolate mousse is also missing.
"Cyborg," he grumbles.
"Actually," a detached female voice says. "Beast Boy ate your mousse yesterday." Raven approaches the counter, wearing her usual dark blue cloak, her hood hiding her face. "I see Cyborg's been busy though," she says while gesturing to the mess.
"Beast Boy too, apparently." He can't see it, but he knows she's smirking. "What are you doing up?"
"Couldn't sleep," she says.
"A lot of that going around." He looks around, finding Raven's teapot. "Tea?"
She nods, her cloak going up, and down.
"Comin' up," he says.
It will take considerable time to clear a space to the sink, he thinks, but a black aura engulfs the dishes, suspending them above the sink, giving Robin room to maneuver. He turns back to Raven and smirks. Though he can't see it, he knows that she's smirking back. Only a few minutes later, the teapot has boiled and Raven drops two teabags into it while Robin finds them two teacups.
They work in silence. The soft rain, the only sound to be heard. He sets the cups down in front of Raven, then crosses into the living room and opens the curtains to peer out at the predawn morning.
"Honey?" she says. But he doesn't quite hear.
He turns around, and looks her way. "What?"
She stiffens a bit. Most people wouldn't notice, but Robin's not most people.
"Do you want honey in your tea?" she monotones.
"Oh, sure." Then he turns back to the window. After a time, he sees Raven coming up behind him in the window's reflection. She stands next to him and hands him his cup. "Thanks."
She nods and sips her tea, looking out the window.
He loves the sound of the rain, as well as the way the buildings shimmer out the window. He sips his tea and drinks in the silence.
Their silences are always comfortable; neither needing to fill an imagined void with needless chatter. Just being in each others presence has been a comfort in itself. The two have been close friends for a long time, made closer after Raven had to enter his mind in order to free him from a delusion. Since that time, they've shared a bond between them- a bond that has only grown over time.
Robin can't really explain it now. It's as if a piece of her essence- a piece of her- stayed with him after the mind meld. He cant explain it really, but he knows it's there. She knows it too, though neither have ever spoken of it.
The feeling grew stronger after the defeat of Trigon, Raven's father. She had lost all hope, but Robin wouldn't give in- couldn't give in. He helped her and together with the rest of the team, they did the impossible. Slowly, Raven became less reserved after that.
Robin blows on his tea to cool it, the steam fogging up the window in front of him. Standing perfectly upright, Raven turns her head towards him ever so slightly, her face still bathed in shadow.
Her body language is all wrong, Robin thinks. Too stiff, too erect, too... something...
It reminds him of when she had first joined the team. Those first few uneasy weeks when he didn't know how to talk to her and she didn't know how to be a member of a team, or how to have friends. She wants to say something, he can tell, but probably doesn't know how, or what. He decides to just sip his tea, and wait. He's found that patience is always a good policy with Raven and he is very patient.
In the window's reflection, he can still see Raven's head turned his way.
"So, why couldn't you sleep?" Raven finally says.
Robin shrugs, looking straight ahead. "Nightmare."
She nods, and sips her tea as well, bringing the porcelain cup up to her lips.
"Bad?" she says.
"As opposed to the good nightmares?"
He smirks at her reflection in the window. Raven stiffens, then goes silent again.
Robin recognizes the tone even if she hadn't actually said anything. She grips her teacup with a white-knuckled grip.
Why so frustrated?
"Do..." she trails off. Robin waits some more. Finally, she pulls her hood back to reveal her shoulder length violet hair and her milky smooth skin, then turns fully towards him. He faces her, meeting her violet eyes, waiting.
She lets out a breath, and timidly continues. "Do you wanna talk about it?"
"About what?"
"Your nightmare."
"Oh," he says.
They fall back into a silence, slightly less comfortable than usual.
"So?" she asks.
He shrugs and turns away from the window, heading for the long couch and sits down, then he watches her come towards him and sit on the couch a few feet from him. She shuffles to get more comfortable and waits for him to begin, watching him intently. He sips his tea, collecting his thoughts.
"Was it your parents?" she says. Having had seen glimpses of their death when she entered his mind, she is somewhat aware of the story. He has also told her some vague details here and there.
Over the years they have both shared many things that they would never share with the others. He downs the rest of his tea, and sets the cup down in front of the curved black couch, then sits back, and lets out a long sigh.
She finishes her tea and sets her cup down as well.
"It's always the same," he says. "It's as if I'm reliving the memory over, and over again."
She gives a sympathetic nod. "Is it exactly how it really happened?"
"Yes."
A pained expression crosses her face, then is gone.
"Mostly," he says.
"Mostly?"
He hasn't told her about the voice, and he isn't sure why. Maybe a part of him doesn't want her to know his greatest fear.
"Robin?" her voice breaks him out of his thoughts.
"Hmm?" he says.
"What's different?"
She's really pushing it this time. It occurs to him that she must be really pushing her comfort zone to pry like she is. He supposes it won't hurt to share this with her.
"I hear a voice, a creepy, cold voice," he says. "It tells me that everyone I love will leave me. It's sort of true..."
"Robin," she says, "just because Starfire had to return to Tamaran, doesn't mean that everyone will leave you."
He takes breath. "I know. This has nothing to do with Star. I've been having the dream a long time," he says, trying force the anger, and pain back down. "That whole thing…" he searches for the words, trying not to sound as pathetic as he feels. "That was just the most recent example proving the voice right."
"She didn't want to leave, Robin. She had to, for her people."
"Oh I'm well aware," he says. "believe me. And my parents didn't choose to leave, they were murdered. It's not like I'm blaming Anyone. I just-I don't know."
"You're scared you will lose everyone? That no one will ever stay?"
She means I'm scared to be alone, he thinks. Is she right?
"I'm less afraid to be alone," he says. "More afraid of losing the people I care about, I guess. Does that make sense?"
He feels stupid. He shouldn't have said anything.
Raven opens her mouth to say something, then closes it again. She looks away from him, balling one hand into a fist. It's no secret that the team's been having a rough go of it since Starfire left three months ago, and though he won't show it outwardly, it's no secret that Robin took it harder than the rest of the team.
Robin stares straight ahead, but out of the corner of his vision, he can see she's still frustrated, all tensed up. He should apologize and change the subject, or maybe just go back to bed, end this conversation she's clearly uncomfortable with-
"I'm sorry those things have happened to you," she interrupts his thoughts, "but I'm- I mean, I would never-" she coughs. "But I mean, you know that it's just your trauma, and your fears talking."
"I know," he says. "Sometimes I just feel-"
"Cursed?" she finishes.
He nods. If anyone can understand the feeling, it's her, he thinks.
She nods slowly.
"You're not cursed, Robin," she says.
"Oh good," he says, "glad we settled that."
She glares at him, but he knows she's somewhat amused by his sarcasm. He holds her gaze for a moment, then nods and settles back on the couch. Raven brings her legs up beside her and fidgets with her cloak, trying to get more comfortable.
Lightning flashes in the distance, followed by rumbling thunder. Robin ruffles his short dark hair, then puts both hands in the sweatshirt's pockets.
(*)
Raven
She watches the boy wonder as he breathes slowly on the couch, neither of them saying anything. His nightmare had invaded her dream and she had witnessed the whole thing. Every gruesome detail, and not for the first time either. Even so, this time felt different, more vivid, more real, as if she was really there. How did he survive that kind of trauma so young? How does he carry it now?
She feels guilty for intruding on his private memories. Though she had no control over it, she can't help but blame herself and wonder what he would think if he knew she had seen all that? After cleaning up a little and grabbing her cloak, she had decided to come looking for him. Though he was never hard to find. She wonders if maybe he had wanted her to find him there. She brushes that thought aside. Though finding him had not been difficult- what was difficult was trying to help him. She doesn't know how to ask the right questions, she doesn't know the right questions period. Luckily, the boy wonder was patient, as he always has been.
He was in pain and she knew it. She wanted so desperately to help him, like he had always helped her, but her words just seemed so inadequate. She tried it anyway and found herself not getting very far. In fact, she fears that she may have made him feel worse. Why couldn't she say what she wanted? Why was it so hard? He fears everyone will leave him. Why couldn't she just say it? "I won't leave you…" Why is she such a coward? She curses herself. Not like my being here is that big of difference anyway.
She shuffles on the couch, always amazed at how comfortable it is.
She wants to tell him that he isn't alone, and she's angry at herself that she can't form the words. The silence drags on. She can't think of anything to say, though she desperately wishes that she could.
Lightning flashes again, and this time, the thunder is barely audible. The sound of the rain relaxes her, and her breathing becomes rhythmic. I'll never leave you, Robin, she thinks. The rain patters more softly against the window now.
"You sure?" he says, finally breaking the silence.
It takes her a second to respond, blinking into the dark, not remembering when she had closed her eyes. "Hmm?"
He chuckles softly. "It was nothing."
She nods, struggling to keep her eyes open, then leans her head back against the cushion. Sleep claiming her almost immediately.
(*)
Robin
He smirks to himself as Raven snores ever softly on the couch. He pulls his feet up onto the cushions and lays down flat, his feet almost touching hers. He stares up at the ceiling, clears his mind of the pain of the last few months, and the images that haunt his dreams. He focuses on Raven's barely audible snoring, and the rain pattering against the window. He breathes deep, closes his eyes and lets sleep take him.
(*)
Robin jolts awake on the couch, sitting up quickly, heart hammering. Raven moves closer beside him, also suddenly awake. An alarm bell rings out from somewhere, and it takes him a minute to realize that it isn't a crime in progress alarm, but his T-communicator.
Raven looks at him with a raised eyebrow.
He rips the comm out of his pocket and activates it, looking at the small screen. An image of an older man with balding white hair. Alfred?
"Master, Ri- Robin," Alfred says with his kind, British accent. "I'm afraid there's been an incident."
Oh, no...
"Alfred," Robin says. "What's happened? Is Batman alright?"
Raven edges even closer to him, her face bathed in concern.
"The master is fine," Alfred says. "I'm afraid it is miss Gordon."
Robin notes Alfred's use of her formal name rather than her status as Batgirl. His fists clench automatically and his heart speeds up.
"Is she..." he trails off.
"She has been shot."
(*)
Author's note
Hey, all. How long has it been, eh? First published in 2013, last update 2014. So it's not like it's been THAT long, right?... Kidding.
My word, where does the time go?
Alright, let's get a few things out of the way: Yes, it's been just over ten years since my last update. Yes, I feel bad about that. Yes, I've always wanted to come back and finish it. Yes, life's taken me on quite the interesting ride the last ten years, and no I've not had much time for writing. Yes, I am very rusty. Yes, I am nervous that I've lost my touch, and that my prose will suck. Yes, I'm nervous that I've lost the "voice" of the characters.
Yes, I probably ought to work on new chapters, and publish them, but these really early chapters are in rough shape, bad prose, bad grammar, spelling errors, missing words in the middles of sentences, etc. So, the plan is to start by going over the story chapter by chapter, fix some mistakes, improve on the prose, add some characterization here and there while I work on thinking about where the story will go once I catch up. I kind of wrote myself into a corner there at the last chapter, and maybe will alter the ending of it a bit, maybe not. But regardless, that's the plan, upload new versions of the old chapters while I work on new ones.
If you're just now discovering my story, thanks for reading, I hope you like it. If you read it back in the day, and you're returning, welcome back, it's wonderful to see you, old friends. Onto chapter two, tune in next week, same Mojo time, same Mojo channel.
Mojo
*Original Author's Note*
I've been watching the reruns of Teen Titans on Boomerang the last couple days and checked out some of the stories here. Ya'll seem like a truly awesome fandom and I'd love to be a part of it. This is my first attempt to write into this fandom and I don't have the most vast knowledge of the show's universe, though I'm pretty familiar with DC Comics.
My grammar's not the best, but better than some. I've had a wicked cold that's been seriously hampering my focus, so if there are all kinds of grammar and spelling mistakes, know that I tried my very best to catch them. I couldn't make it look like I wanted and the site got rid of all my centered text and things like that, so it appears a bit messy. Sorry
If you have any questions, don't hesitate. I love reviews, so please leave me one.
Thanks for reading,
mojo
