-1A/N: I'm baaaaack…Grinning like a saccharine copy of Starfire Just another SladexRobin…with a twist I came up with. By the way, if you haven't read Small Print, do so. Now. (Well, maybe not now.Read and review mine first. Than go read the masterpiece that's not mine.) And I'm actually a Red X/Robin shipper, but this is a SladexRobin fic. I am, for the first time, using a gathering of different lyrics here. They appear magically.

Disclaimer: Yeah. They are so not mine. If they were, then Red X and Robin would totally hook up. With some SladexRobin on the side. Yeah…The songs aren't mine either, but I do love them very much. Especially Supervixen.


GARBAGE: Temptation Waits

You are a secret, I need possession
I like to keep you guessing.

Slade's grip on his shoulder was light, more a formality than anything else. Robin, after all, was suffering from Stockholm Syndrome.


"We need some food, and I don't want to bother going out. I'm sure you'll manage, but no mask, of course. You have two hours."

Robin kept his fistful of Slade's sleeve, and he resisted the attempt to snap the man's wrist, knowing it would blow his cover entirely. And he had worked so hard to make the degenerative asshole believe he had finally lost it to the brutal beatings, among other things. He kept his blue gaze forward, instead edging closer to him, as a child would to their mother - to feel safe, happy, like they belonged, like they were loved.

Robin was anything but where Slade was concerned.

His hand hovered over the doorknob, mind screaming to go, run, find the others but he knew. Slade still had the device, his friends were still infected…he couldn't.

Slade spun him around, pressing a rough kiss to his startled lips. "Go now…and come back fast, and I'll reward you." He would have pushed him out the door, but if Robin didn't leave when he was ready, he'd throw another fit. So he waited, and Robin turned and slowly moved outside, his eyes narrowing reflexively against the light.

Two hours…he had just two hours away from Slade.


Robin, dressed in street clothes, sans mask, snatched a few grapes. It was almost (no it isn't, it's sick) funny. He was grocery shopping. For Slade. Who he would return home to in less than two hours, to play a rousing game of (that's right Robin, good boy, just like that) never mind.

He used to have my damn respect. He was a criminal, but he at least had my respect. Why did he have to go and…and…

Hinder: How Long

Why'd you go and break what's already broken?

I tried to take your breath but I'm already choking.

It was sick. It was sick and a trap and Robin was utterly helpless to even do anything to stop it. He was stuck there, in that lair, with him.

Gods above, please help me. I'm trapped.

After paying for the food (now what?) and leaving the store, he tipped his head up, squinting. He had left at around 7:30 PM, and the sun was sinking below the earth, red and pink and gold bleeding across the far sky to stain the sky.

What was he supposed to do now? Maybe, if he could get to the Titans, or send a message to them, they would know he hadn't run away. Maybe they could…

…help me.

Robin hated the thought of asking for help, but he needed it. He was, as much as he would love to deny the thought, helpless. His body was sore from more than beatings (I don't want to go back there please don't make me go back there please not again not again) and his footsteps were slow and careful.

He saw a couple street punks staring at him, and quickly turned a random corner, shooting down the alleyway. Honestly, he didn't know how many times he had told others never go down the empty alley but what the hell. He was still Robin, he could still fight like hell. That hadn't changed.

The trashcan tumbled, and he jumped back, watching a stray bolt around the corner with an angry growl. Great. He'd gone from Boy Wonder whom had every criminal watching their backs to losing his cool over a cat. Robin exhaled slowly, palms scraping over the coarse brick he was leaning against, and peeled himself off the wall. He kneeled to pick up a fallen orange, and looked up-

Slade was standing in front of him. Slade was towering over him, arms crossed, looking down at him-

Robin leapt back, eyes wide, forgetting his cover. "S-Slade." He stammered out, shocked. Why is he here? I didn't go past the two hour mark, I couldn't have, I've barely-

Slade cocked his head to the side, eye narrowing slightly, voice curious. "Robin?"

"What?" Robin choked, inching away. Fuck the cover-

"Is that you? What are you doing without your mask? Not that I don't already know who you are, but still…" his voice trailed off.

"You…sent me out, remember?" Was this some sort of test? "To…to get food, you…gave me two hours…" Robin stopped, taking in the confused expression on the other's face.

"Noooo…" Slade replied slowly. "What are you talking about?" He froze. "Robin?"

The said superhero was sliding down the wall, staring at nothing, fingers gripping the sides of his jeans, his mind working fast.

That wasn't Slade.

That wasn't Slade.

It wasn't Slade who did that to me.

I've been captured by…someone who is not Slade.

"Robin." A voice snapped, and he looked up, but not very far, as Slade was kneeling in front of him, watching him as if he were an escapee from an asylum. "I've been out of town for two weeks. What the hell have you been doing?"

Robin didn't answer, only stared at him as if he were a demon repentant.

Slade paused, then held out his hand. "Robin, come with me."

Robin stared at the hand as of it would bite the moment he touched it, then-

GARBAGE: I Think I'm Paranoid

I think I'm paranoid and complicated
I think I'm paranoid, manipulated.

-hesitantly placed his own hand in Slade's palm, fingers gently grasping his slender wrist as if holding it too tightly might break it.


About ten minutes later found Robin in a flat that belonged to the real Slade. Who may have stolen it. Or at least used stolen money to buy it, but that was not his main concern at the moment.

Robin hadn't let go of his hand.

Slade wondered about the specifics, but he was starting to get a general idea about what went on while he was out of town. I shouldn't have left, he kept thinking every time he glanced at Robin, whose blue eyes held an odd haunted look, whose skin seemed even more pale than it used to be, whose movement seemed…strained. Somehow. It seemed…almost painful.

After he shut the door, he finally released the young boy's hand. It wavered there for a moment, as if Robin wasn't sure what to do with it, until he tucked it under his other arm. Slade noted he seemed smaller as well. He couldn't help but stare, noting the small flinches, the way his eyes didn't know where to look, the faint-

Slade blinked, as if his eye might be playing tricks on him, and he rushed toward Robin. The Boy Wonder jerked back, raising his arm reflexively. Slade's hand hovered over his shoulder, taken aback by the cringe, before coming down softly, and Robin lowered his guard uneasily. Slade pushed him down into the bed, onto his back, and lifted the shirt up and back.

A scattering of bruises blossomed over his stomach and chest, at his navel, his nipples, below his collar bone. Shallow cuts ran in graceful arcs over his body, down the middle of his chest, the curve of his side, over his hip bone. On top of those were a cacophony of small, deep gashes, randomly strewn over his delicate person. He slid an index finger under the edge of Robin's jeans, tugging it down an inch to reveal another bruise, red and brushed with purple, directly below his navel. No. Not a bruise.

It's a hickey, his mind growled in rage, and he grit his teeth to keep silent. Loosing his temper was not what Robin needed at the moment.


And I would be the one to hold you down
Kiss you so hard, I'll take your breath away.

Taking a deep semi-calming breath, Slade crawled over him, knees on either side of his waist. He leaned forward so that his mask was inches from Robin's uncovered face, and inspected his neck. It was as if someone had taken a studded collar, replaced the studs with tiny needles, and put the collar on Robin upside down. A spiral of little dark marks curled around his neck in a perfect line.

Slade held his breath for a moment, counting back from ten, and slid off Robin.

"Tell me everything that's happened since I've been gone."

And Robin did. He told him about the fake Slade, the training, the beatings, and after some coaxing, the rapes, faking Stockholm Syndrome, and the threats on his friends' lives.

Which was where Slade stopped him.

"Robin, I still have the trigger." Slade interrupted.

"Couldn't he have made a new one?" Robin replied.

Slade shook his head. "No. There can only be one trigger that will work at one time. And the password to access the system is a very extensive code. His is a fake, so we - you don't have to worry about the other Titans." His own still worked. He hadn't tried it, but he knew it still worked. Slade sighed, watching Robin slump and digest this new information. "Go to sleep. It's past midnight, and we can take care of everything tomorrow."


"Sleep." Slade ordered. Robin complied, kicking off his shoes and socks, and slid under the covers. His movement seemed unsure still, but he was no longer flinching. At least, not very much. Slade methodically removed his armor, leaving only soft black. His hands were moving in precise, irritated but controlled movements, his mind elsewhere. Like Robin.

Just as he pulled off his mask, revealing a rather handsome face with inky black hair, he heard a sound.

He turned sharply, setting the mask on the nightstand with a 'clunk' and stared at the shivering, quietly sobbing form on his bed.


"Robin." He whispered, his voice tense and desperate. His only response was another muffles sob, and broken words that resembled 'sorry'.

Biting his lip, Slade crawled over the bed to Robin, placing a hand on his shoulder. Robin looked over at him, tears streaming down his face, hand clamped over his mouth.

GOO GOO DOLLS: Truth Is A Whisper

Truth is a whisper and only a choice
Can you teach me to believe in something?

Slade pulled the shuddering form into his lap, running his fingers through black strands. Robin leaned against his chest, letting out another sob. His head was pounding, his lungs burned, his body was sore, everything hurt, and he was just. So. Fucking. Tired.

Slade traced circles on his battered flesh, holding him until the cries died off. Robin swallowed, and laid under the fresh sheets again, sighing as Slade's hand began to slid under the back of his shirt, cool on hot. He worked muscles free of stress, and soon Robin's grip on his pillow weakened, and he melted into unconsciousness.

Slade pulled his hand away, and placed it at the base of Robin's neck. His eyes (he did in fact have two eyes, although was blind in one) followed the bend of the small of the young boy's back, and he listened to the soft breaths.

Robin was so small. His body was strong, but it looked so damn weak. His thin wrists, his lean muscles, all seemed terribly easy to hurt.

Not that Slade would. He liked the thought that he could, but he never would. Robin was still a child anyway. When he was older, Slade knew. At least a little older, then…

GARBAGE: Supervixen

A hit is hard to resist and I never miss
I can take you out with just a flick of my wrist.


A/N: Oooh, uh huh, sexy. Heh heh. And awwww, it's so fluffy. Head+desk Dammit, I can't help but do that…I so suck at angst…I can't bear to have them suffer. I love music, and found the ones with titles on LJ (except Hinder), where they were posted by someone who thought they fit SladexRobin…I agree. So. This fic (I already have it all planned out! It's a bloody miracle!) is gonna be saturated with music. Tell meh if it fits, pleez? Supervixen! I love Supervixen! - Chu.