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Bullets	By : AlabasterSin Category: DC Verse Cartoons - Teen Titans > AU/AR > Slash Views: 2886 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Teen Titans, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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Obligatory Disclaimer: Teen Titans is not mine. Not at all. I have made this story up in my own little head out of sheer fangirlism.

Bullets.

Chapter One: Into the Arms…

A soft rustle was the only thing that betrayed the presence of disturbance. The soft, near-inaudible sound was born from the dark sheets tangled in thin limbs, the owner of the twin appendages rolling from left to right.

He couldn’t sleep. Try as he might, Robin couldn’t will his body to sink deep into those foreign covers and surrender itself to darkness.

Considering whose covers, whose mattress, whose bed this belonged to, it was only natural, he supposed. It’s hard to get to sleep when your pillow was completely covered in the scent of your mortal enemy.

On the other hand, his body was throbbing in numerous places, worn down and reduced to nothing but sheer exhaustion. Even his muscles, used to extreme conditions, couldn’t take the day’s activities, protesting every little movement. So, in that respect, he should have been out cold.

The Boy Wonder sighed, rolling onto his back and staring up at the ceiling. No matter what should have been, it didn’t change his current condition. He still couldn’t sleep, trapped in a fit of insomnia.

Trapped by the man that somehow managed to surround and suffocate him without even being in the room. It was frightening.

Hell, Slade was frightening. The man was a psychotic enigma, playing off the natural fear of the Unknown within every heart. His determination, obsessiveness, just made it all the worse.

'Hypocrisy,' a voice in the back of his mind hissed, proverbial teeth bared in disgust. 'Shunning the qualities of another that you near worship in yourself.'

Robin shook his head furiously, snarling right back at the voice. It wasn’t hypocrisy. The traits shared names, but were completely different.

He would fight to his last breath, yes, but for justice. For what was right. Slade would never stop, resort to anything (as he had proved in forcing apprenticeship on the boy) to gain a means to his dark ends.

'And what of Red X? came that same traitorous whisper. You tossed everything you held dear away, and rather easily.'

For information, a way to track down and finally defeat--

'For Slade.'

No, that made it sound… near romantic. No it wasn’t for the man himself, but a means to overcome him. A way to strip him of that enigmatic aura and expose him as nothing more than another mortal man.

‘Resort to anything to gain a means…’

But it was justified!

'So playing the part of tragic hero automatically justifies broken trust and broken hearts? Those mean nothing then?'

Yes. …No. I don’t know! Robin was frowning, scowling at his inner self, and the other part of him that couldn’t seem to hold up the argument. His eyes slid shut, in defiance squeezed tight, hands coming up to shield his face. The entire sight was reminiscent of a child trying to block out reality, block out that something that frightened him and made him call out for that ever-comforting presence dubbed ‘mother’.

But there was no mother now. He was alone, and the only other living creature here (or so he assumed) was one he didn’t care to seek out for comfort.

The raven-haired boy nearly laughed out loud at the mental image the previous thought conjured: Padding out of the room to find the elder man, crawling into his lap like a sleepless son to his father and letting all the Bad be soothed away.

'And what, exactly, is so wrong with that?' Again that little voice probed his thoughts, throwing things into light that he didn’t care to think of.

“Everything.” he whispered to the dark, jolting a little to realize he had spoken aloud. Not only that, but it was the realization that he had allowed his mind to wander, his guard had been down during that entire internal argument, and Slade, Slade could be right there, watching, ready to pounce--

'But he’s not. You know it. You can feel it.'

I can, he mused, steadily relaxing once more into the pillows. How, he couldn’t say, but he still knew.

'Perhaps we are like him. You know when he’s there and not, you’ve been acting like him. Even starting to think like he does, ideals tossed away for an opportunity--'

Shut UP!

Sound echoed off the walls, punctuated by heavy breathing. Thin fingers gripped the blankets pooled around him, knuckles turned white.

It was impossible to tell whether he was aware he had shouted or not, because in an instant he was out of the bed and forcing himself into his newly-supplied uniform of blacks and deep oranges.

He was out the door then, boots thinking against the hard surface of the hall floor. He wasn’t sure where exactly he was headed, or what he would do once he got there. All he knew was that he needed to move, needed to run and get away from that voice and those thoughts that were so terribly true. He needed to get somewhere, anywhere.

He could have laughed then, as he collided with something very much solid and felt himself taken into gravity’s hands. He was laughing when that fall was suddenly stopped, arms catching him and saving him a few unneeded bruises.

He had needed to be somewhere, and here he was. Even if it was in the arms of his enemy.
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Bullets