A/N: I'm starting to wonder why I even have the Stories in Progress section on my profile page, because my past three stories have all just been spur of the moment. I am working on those, too, but they're not the ones getting out on here. *shrugs* Oh, and guys, guess what this is? Yet another fic that's not one of the Lab Rats fics I've been promising everyone. Sorry about that.

I've been tempted to write a fic where Robin dies basically since I started watching the Teen Titans for the first time, years ago. I found an amazing one by RobinRocks called Who Killed Cock Robin? which you should all go read after you're done here. It was all I wanted in Robin's funeral, and is much more complete than mine here, plus having the added bonus of being based on a poem. The only thing it left me wanting was Slade coming to Robin's funeral and being pissed because someone else had killed him, and that's what spawned this story. Sneaky character analysis ended up in here, too. If you enjoyed this, or found a mistake you want to point out, please take a minute or two to review. Reviews are cookies, and who doesn't like cookies?

Be the reason someone smiles today. :)

The day is dark, ominous and stormy, like something out of a horror movie. It's an appropriate atmosphere for the tragedy that has happened. Today, the city mourns. A hero has fallen, evil has triumphed, and fear lies over Jump like a choking smog. It is not a day for the sun; it hides its face in the clouds. It is not a day for songbirds; they cower, silent, in the thickets. It is not a day for hope; despair grasps the city in its arms, poisonous and black.

A crowd gathers in a small churchyard bordered by a river on one side, and woods on the other. It's a small group, varied and strange, and grief lies heavy over them. They are a collection of oddities from the small green boy, and alien princess to the billionaire in his impeccable suit, butler close by, and highly successful journalist. Heroes all, some obvious, other in their civilian ego, all there in tears for a single boy, barely a teenager. An amazing boy, who had risen from the ashes of his old life with the ease of a phoenix, though most knew him as a different bird.

Robin, the Boy Wonder, lies dead.

He did not die facing down any of the supervillains that he and his team took down on a daily basis. His death was not the result of an epic battle, the way everyone, including him, thought it would, one day. It was almost an accident; the fault of a young, nervous and inexperienced man facing down a superhero with a gun, and an itchy trigger finger. It did not seem right that the young hero who had survived so much should have been killed by a lucky shot, and yet is had happened. Not even Raven's magic could save him from a wound like that, and he died in a parking lot, waiting for help to come. He died almost peacefully, surrounded by his team, his best friends, the family he had made for himself.

Robin's only regret had been that Bruce wasn't there to say goodbye to, so that he could thank his mentor, and apologize for the differences that had sent him to Jump in the first place. The recording in office, secreted in a desk drawer, would do just as well, of course, but he would have liked to say it in person, to know that Bruce had forgiven him. But there was a limit to how long even the Boy Wonder could hold on, and he had died before both Batman and the ambulance arrived for him.

Robin's team mourns him. Starfire, subduing her usual purple to black, stands tall and rigidly straight. Her eyes are bright, but she does not weep. She has cried, and she will cry again, but not here, not now, not at the last goodbye. This is the last time she will ever see Robin again; her warrior nature refuses to let her mar it with tears. Robin, the boy who was so much more than a superhero, had welcomed her onto his world, onto his team, and into his heart, fighting for and with her every step of the way. He had saved her, from captivity, from countless foes, and from herself. Robin had simultaneously accepted her strength, holding her when she wanted to be held, but letting her stand beside him, accepting her as a complete equal. No one had ever done more for her, and Star wishes with everything she has that he might have lived, that she could continue to have her friend, her love. But he is cold, and dead, and gone where she cannot follow. Starfire hangs her head and wishes she would let herself cry.

Raven stands with her, strong for her friend. But within, she is breaking, barely holding onto any semblance of control. The occasional, unacknowledged tear drifts down her cheek, almost lazily. Her deep violet eyes reveal the depth of her sorrow and loss. While Robin had more obviously introduced Starfire to the world, he had done the same for Raven. At a time when she had nothing, no one, when she didn't even trust herself, Robin had trusted her. He had believed in her, welcomed her onto his team, without knowing anything about her. He accepted her eccentricities, pardoned her failings, and never tried to pry into the past she had tried so hard to leave behind. 'We all owe him so much,' she thinks to herself, gazing at the cloth-covered coffin that held her friend, 'and we'll never be able to repay him. We'll never even get to tell him.' Raven closes her eyes, and sighs quietly. 'Sleep peacefully, Robin. Please.'

A little ways away, Beast Boy and Cyborg stand together. Tears stream down the younger hero's face, unchecked, and inadequate to express his grief. Cyborg is and always will be Beast Boy's best friend, but Robin had been more like an older brother, someone to look up to, and rein him in when Beast Boy went too far. Robin had been the only other hero to really understand where Beast Boy had come from, having also sacrificed his childhood to be a hero, who had been orphaned young, and understood how being a child hero had both hardened Beast Boy and made him more vulnerable. In Beast Boy's head, Mento berates him, snapping, "Heroes never cry. Heroes never quit." But there's nothing more Beast Boy can do for Robin, there's nothing to quit now. He clenches his fists, angry both at his former leader for putting that voice in his head, and at himself for letting it stay there. He will cry, because he doesn't care if Mento thinks he was weak, Robin is worth crying over.

Cyborg stands with a hand on Beast Boy's quaking shoulder. With Robin gone, responsibility for the Teen Titans falls to him. They don't know how they'll continue without Robin, but they've agreed to give it their best try regardless. They think it's what Robin would prefer, to know that they're all still looking out for each other. He smiles slightly, sadly, remembering the time Robin had asked him to meet him, and the younger hero had tried to bring up this very possibility, what would happen if he, Robin, were to die. At the time, it had disturbed and unsettled Cyborg that Robin considered and planned for death, and had mumbled something unintelligible, and fled the room. Knowing Robin, knowing who had raised and trained him, Cyborg wouldn't be surprised if Robin had been prepared to die in any battle, each and every day. Cy never really understood how much Robin did to lead their team, not even after temporarily leading the Titans East. He hadn't grasped how much work Robin did behind the scenes, how much he had researched and planned, worried about his team, how much weight he'd borne, quietly, so that everything could go smoothly for his friends. Cyborg can only bow his head and be grateful, choked with the knowledge that he's too late to tell Robin so.

With one gentle hand on his son's coffin, Bruce Wayne stands, stooped as though under a great weight. His hands shake, and his usually steely eyes are dim, full of tears that refuse to fall. Alfred stands close enough to bump shoulders with him, offering silent support and companionship, in spite of the tears of his own cheeks. Bruce has lost a son, Alfred a grandson, and the Batman a partner. Bruce stares desperately at the coffin, wishing with all of his soul that it hadn't come to this. That he and Robin had settled their differences, come to an understanding, forgiven each other before this, before his child lies in a coffin and there's nothing he can do but apologize over and over in his head, knowing that Robin will never hear it. He, being the Batman, had worried that he himself might die before he and Robin were ready to forgive, but he never considered Robin dying. He should have. He should have at least considered the possibility. What good was the Batman if he couldn't save his own son's life? Bruce had made mistakes before, so many of them, but he knew this one would haunt him to the end of his days.

The Titans East, who had been patrolling Jump to let the Titans grieve without having to worry about their city, now quietly appear. They also mourn a hero and a friend, but they understand that their grief cannot come close to understanding that of Robin's families. They stay but a moment for each to quietly say goodbye, before flitting away. They know that, while they are welcome here, it is not where they belong, and they continue to guard Jump.

A man leans moodily against a tree just inside the shadow of the forest that borders the little churchyard full of mourners. His one eye burns behind his mask, and he is furious. Slade had high hopes for Robin. He had tried to make the boy his apprentice, and that was the highest compliment Slade had to give. Yet then, he had accepted the boy as a nemesis of sorts, which might have been an even greater compliment, because an apprentice must be controllable, where an opponent matches their foe at every turn. Slade had seen a lot of himself in the young hero, had grudgingly respected and even almost admired the boy. If anyone had the right to kill him, it was Slade, only, of course, after the boy had been given ample time to turn from to foolish path of a hero, to be made to see a better way. And if that didn't sway him, then Slade would've killed him, but not yet, and definitely not as bluntly as with a bullet. Robin had possessed so much potential, and that potential had been stomped out by a common gang man's bullet. He plans grimly to make life miserable for that gang, and then nonexistent. How dare they kill Slade's nemesis, his opponent, his apprentice? He would make them pay, dearly. They would suffer and then die, he would make it so.

Slade nods once, with something like respect towards the coffin, and melts backward into the trees. He doubts Robin would approve of his form of vengeance, but perhaps the boy would surprise him. That was something Robin was good at, surprising Slade, and that was part of the reason he had caught Slade's eye in the first place. Robin had surprised Slade most by dying. Perhaps, in some macabre fashion, Robin had won after all.

It's a dark day in Jump, as dark as the midnight earth that covers Robin's coffin. A hero has died, his enemy plots to spill more blood, his friends weep, and the Earth quietly reclaims its own.