Robin awoke and shot up with a choked scream, taking a few moments to mentally balance himself before lying back down and clutching his chest.

Three weeks. It'd been three weeks since he and the Titans had broken free from the control of their neural interface suits, and it'd been a rough three weeks for everyone, especially for Robin. He hadn't told them. No, he wouldn't dare tell them the nightmares he'd been having. The lack of sleep and even the staying awake so he wouldn't have to subject himself to such torment. The going into their rooms at four in the morning just to make sure they were still alive. The unease and dread towards the idea of sleep itself. Dreams, though only dreams, seemed truer than reality sometimes. None felt more real than the nightmares he'd been having nearly every night since their escape, and it was at times such as this that Robin hated Slade almost as much as he feared him.

Robin shivered once, wiped the cold sweat off his body, then wiped his face as well, inhaling again. He wondered if Slade knew these things. For in each battle, there always existed apprehension that Slade might see past all of Robin's own hatred and determination. The man would look, and in a blinding instant, know. Slade would see beyond the leader. Beyond the hero. And see instead the child that he was. See therein the fear that devoured him, burning even hotter than his own ire. See the terror that could be used to exploit, to crush, and to shatter.

For Slade was the very villain, the very being, who could kill Robin. Could kill him as he did and had every night for the past three weeks. All the while treating it as not a true battle, but as a game: as a sickening thrill. A rush and euphoric high that only deepened along with the man's own animalistic hunger and brutality. A cruelty that had no end. An intelligence to carry it out. A strength to bring all to completion.

And as Robin saw more of Slade's inhumane, ruthless nature each time they battled, as the man's cruelty intensified, the more his own emotions grew until he would return to the Tower later, perfectly composed, only to shatter in his own room that same night, unable to take it. His nightmares had solidified that fact. Had opened up a part of a world that Robin had known of, yes, but hadn't known to what extent it reached. Now he worried that the next time they battled, Slade would know all. He would see the kind of hero that Robin was. A hero who hadn't slept at all in the last three weeks and one who hadn't slept properly in the last six months. Would know of Robin's inability to focus and his labored, uneasy breathing. Would pay heed to the falter in his step as they fought and hear the racing heartbeat concealed underneath his uniform. The way Robin rubbed his hands together prior to facing Slade, but not out of anticipation. The deep tenseness in his muscles following a battle that was not caused by overexertion. The showers designed to remove so much more than just dirt and sweat.

Slade would see and he would know. Would know the eyes of a boy in a man's world. Of a bird with broken wings, facing a feline.

It'd happened once. The very first night after the Titans' escape, the five had bedded down amid the Tower's rubble. Robin had been exhausted but happy. Content in the fact that he and the Titans were free. Safe. He'd slept in that knowledge. But the night and the darkness had nearly broken him. Though it had not been real, Robin could still remember standing up, facing Slade, and feeling all that he'd pushed down while under the man's rule. No neural interface suit could hold it in check. No focus, no determination or plan to fight and succeed and race to freedom had been there to assist him. No more barriers remained.

It'd been real. Raw. And Slade. Had. Seen. . .

He'd stepped forward. He'd moved toward Robin in true and complete understanding, his expression first one of utter shock and amazement, then of predatorial dominance. Of ultimate victory and cruel, sadistic pleasure. Of black intentions as his true ruthless nature, at last, awoke fully from its slumber. . .

"Robin."

Robin woke then, somehow finding all the Titans still asleep despite the fact that he knew he hadn't woken silently. And as he struggled to regain his composure, as he looked around at the rubble, he could've sworn that one of the shadows. . .that it was. . .

Robin inhaled sharply, pushing the thoughts and memories away. He rubbed his face with both hands this time, fighting to calm himself. This was why it was his goal to end Slade. Not only to end the villain himself, but also to—

Robin's head shot up, ears attentive. He'd heard something. Hadn't he? No, it was probably just his mind playing tricks on him. It was four in the morning, after all. He was just being paranoid. Robin, however, couldn't stay in his room. Sneaking to the door, he slowly poked his head out and looked around, soothing his anxiety while simultaneously making himself feel very foolish and childish. Who did he think was in the Tower? Slade? No, it was probably just Beast Boy getting up for a snack.

Robin shook his head as he went back into his room, laughing outrightly as he sank back onto his bed. But it was a shallow laugh that ended with Robin blinking too hard.

Why did he feel so vulnerable? Robin knew that Cyborg's lockdown of the Tower was perfect. The security system they had was perfect. It was all perfect.

Yet Slade was the perfect villain. And it always seemed that the one thing that gave was not he, but—

The doubt crept into Robin's mind yet again. Panic clouded his vision and judgment. He shook it off, biting his lip to focus. It was all right. The sun would rise. Slade would withdraw. The Titans would awake and all would be good. Robin just had to keep reminding himself of that. For he had the Titans. He had his own confidence and determination. He had his barrier. With that in place, Slade would not touch him. Would never know of such truth. Robin would make sure of it.

Robin rubbed his face again for good measure and lay back down, contemplating the idea of going back to sleep. Was sleep really worth this? Of course it was. Slade aside, sleep was crucial to his being an efficient leader and hero. A hero that would stand up to Slade no matter what. He had to go back to sleep. But just as he lay back down, Robin realized that his teeth were chattering. Strange. He wasn't cold.

Despite his resolution, it still took Robin thirty minutes before he began to feel drowsy. He yawned once and rolled over, closing his eyes and drawing his blanket nearer.

Then the Tower alarms went off.

ﻯThe Endﻯ

A/N: This story is, in fact, a short sequel/hidden ending to my other work, The Truth in Lies.