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chief-of-restless-hearts · 3 years

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Chapter 5: Trial

. . .

It was all wrong.

Dick’s mannerisms were off, twitchy and uncertain and completely foreign to his usual bearing--even under stress. And...his face. Unobscured by the grainy video quality, it seemed drawn...even gaunt.

Batman replayed the street cam footage, and watched as the boy, still wearing that dark mirror of Deathstroke’s costume, ran out from alongside the abandoned car lot and halted abruptly at the edge of the road. He threw his gaze back and forth down the empty street, as though looking for something. As though he had been chasing something.

Dick loitered agitatedly for a few moments longer and then turned and vanished out of the camera's view.

But there had been something about his expression...

Batman replayed the clip on his portable computer again. Heavy rain whipped at his cape and cowl, running in frigid rivers down his shoulders, but he remained utterly fixated. Crouched atop the building that Dick had emerged from in the recording, he had finished examining the roped off crime scene below, the details of it rotating through his mind as he studied the only true evidence that Dick had ever been there--aside from the bloodied shuriken which he had personally ensured would not be entered into police records.

None of the suspects, either captured or deceased, had sustained injuries compatible with what the shuriken must have inflicted. Which meant he had another suspect to hunt and interrogate. One more easily accessible than the survivors who had already been incarcerated.

Batman would need to move carefully to avoid justifying any rumored link between Robin and the boy captured on the tape. The sudden return of the Robin emblem alone was more than incriminating enough, and that made the motivation behind it all too clear. Deathstroke intended to isolate Robin from his allies, to destroy his reputation and relationships beyond repair and entrap him completely.

Batman would see him disappointed. His hatred for the assassin grew more intense with every hour, every day that passed.

Five days. Five days Dick had been missing, with Deathstroke, and now he looked like this.

Bruce lightly traced the image with his finger.

What did he do to you, Dick?

. . .

The lone survivor on the lower floor had clearly and gruesomely been singled out for the sake of interrogation or vendetta, and between emergency surgeries and the time necessary for recovery, the suspect was slated to remain unconscious and sedated for at least the next day.

Batman glared down at the haggard-looking man in the hospital bed, lingering in spite of this. It was maddening, knowing that testimony that could incriminate Deathstroke and exonerate his boy accomplice of bloodshed was just out of reach.

He was wasting time.

While the looped cameras would be automatically restored to their normal state once he was clear of the building, a nurse could stop by at any moment. He turned to leave.

No sooner did he face the window than he saw the familiar brightly costumed figure hovering just outside it.

He gritted his teeth and slipped outside. He ignored Superman’s attempts to meet his gaze as he closed and locked the window behind him and he grappled up to the roof, and then he turned to face the man with a scowl.

“So the video has leaked already,” he said flatly, without any question attached to it.

“I’m afraid so,” Superman confirmed, his expression pensive as his feet settled gently on the roof. “It was leaked to the Planet a few minutes ago. I’m not sure how many other papers and stations received it, but I’m not too optimistic.” He hesitated. “I came as soon as I heard. I’ve already done a quick scan of this part of the city, that’s how I found you, but...is there any other way I could help?”

Batman squeezed his eyes shut and resisted the temptation to reject the offer completely. He couldn’t afford to. Not this time. Especially not after...the other time he had tried to save one of his charges alone.

“I already know what you want to do,” he said at last, with effort. “Do it. Call the League.”

Superman was silent, but Batman didn’t turn to look at him.

This wasn’t Clark’s fault, of course it wasn’t. But it was his, and how could he look Clark in the eye when he knew that with so much certainty?

“Bruce...can you tell me that he’s alright?”

“No, I can’t,” he snapped. “Deathstroke has had Robin for nearly a week. I have every reason to believe that he is not alright.”

Superman’s brow creased with confusion. “Deathstroke...?” he started, but then he shook his head. “Bruce, I...I know this can’t be easy for you--”

“This isn’t about me,” he bit out.

Superman’s expression was pinched with open empathy, the same expression he’d had after he heard that...that Jason...

Batman was tempted to slap it off his face.

“I know,” Superman assured him. “I’ll summon as many League members as I can, but before I do, I wanted to make sure that--” He broke off, and his expression said the words left unspoken. “I wanted to see you.”

Batman closed his eyes again, and sighed. “I was about to call you,” he admitted, reluctantly. “Thank you. For coming.” He knew without looking that a small smile had entered the alien’s face.

“Nothing to thank me for,” Superman said easily. “This is for Dick. I mean, aren’t I the kid’s honorary uncle or something?”

Batman rolled his eyes, but the reminder was another little stab in his chest. “He was ten, Clark.”

Clark’s smile widened, and the weight in Bruce’s chest might have eased, if only slightly.

. . .

He reached the Hall of Justice inexcusably late and intensely furious with himself.

He had contacted the Titans again for aid in pinpointing the exact location where they had separated from Robin in the tunnels, as well as where they had found a bomb instead of Sarah Simm. His search of both areas had uncovered nothing, absolutely nothing, and had told him only that Deathstroke must have returned to the scene of the crime to cover his tracks.

And then he had woken suddenly in the water speeder, surrounded by frigid dampness and pitch black walls. The sewers had blocked any outside contact from Alfred or the League that could have roused him, he had still uncovered nothing that could help Dick, and after less than twenty-four hours of searching already his body had failed him.

As he exited the jet and made his way into the League building he found Wally West and Donna Troy sitting together in the lobby, both in costume. They started with surprise as he passed.

“Hey, Batman!” Wally called, but Batman’s brisk pace didn’t falter. Wally sliced across his path with lightning speed and tried to catch his eye. “Wait a sec, we just want to know--”

Bruce fixed the boy with such a glare that his eyes widened in alarm and within an instant he had retreated back to Donna’s side.

“Is Dick okay?” Donna called after him. Her voice was high with alarm. “...Batman?”

Their mentors must have seen fit to exclude them from the meeting. They certainly had the ability to do so, as the young people had yet to be granted access to the Watchtower satellite. Dick had been the only Titan to be given a code.

Without further acknowledgement of either teen he approached the zeta tube and stepped through the transporter.

When at last he swept into the Watchtower conference room with unprecedented tardiness and a fresh bout of transporter-due nausea, not only was the League seated but the new Teen Titans team as well. Wonder Woman was standing beside them, indicating that she had been speaking to them before his interruption.

In the sudden quiet all eyes turned to him, but he met only Wonder Woman’s gaze as he stalked toward the head of the table. In passing the others he counted, with a sting of resentment, that only five League members were present: Wonder Woman, Superman, Flash, Green Arrow, and Green Lantern. A smaller turnout at such short notice was to be expected, of course, but there were a few missing faces that he had expected to see.

He ignored Clark’s less than subtle attempts to catch his eye. Wonder Woman, understanding Batman’s intention, nodded but said nothing as he firmly set his palm-sized portable projector on the table.

“Of the twelve suspects found at the location of the sighting,” he began as several photographs from the police archives lit up the wall behind him, “these four HIVE members were found on the upper level, and on the lower level there were found three more in addition to five men who have been identified as members of the local mob.” he switched to a new set of images, these far more gruesome than the first, “Of those found on the lower level only one, a HIVE member, was found alive. The survivor had clearly been tortured.”

Not only for the sake of the young people at the far end of the table, who already looked nauseous, but out of the bare minimum of respect due to the victim he declined to share those final images with the table.

“All injuries on the lower floor, lethal or otherwise, were inflicted by a long blade,” he continued. “In marked contrast the four HIVE members on the upper floor sustained no injuries more serious than severe bruising. The zip-tie restraints confirm that only these attacks could be credited to Robin, and that Deathstroke was responsible for the lower level killings.

“The surviving suspects have so far refused to respond to police interrogation, and the most gravely injured suspect remains unfit for questioning. Which leaves the video footage of Robin as the only publicly accessible evidence as to the crime’s motivation or perpetrator. Because of this the authorities have not tied Deathstroke to the crime, nor do they have any reason to.”

The video flickered onto the wall and began to play as he spoke.

“The footage that captured Robin on the scene leaves no question that he has been mistreated.”

The blurry image of Dick on the screen staggered to a halt at the edge of the street, and Batman paused the video. He zoomed in on the boy’s face, and found that he needed to swallow before speaking again.

“Robin has lost weight, his movement is stiff, almost clumsy, and if he were thinking clearly he would never have unwittingly placed himself within sight of a street camera. This footage was taken five days after the last footage we have of him, from the day he disappeared, and...”

He broke off as something like a fist closed around his throat. He cleared it with some difficulty.

“...and we cannot afford to leave him in Deathstroke’s hands any longer than we already have.”

For the first time he looked across the table. The video must have been played prior his arrival to give any who hadn’t seen it an understanding of the crisis, and while the Titans were gazing at the projection with evident grief, the League members at the other end of the table seemed...uncomfortable. Only Clark and Diana returned his gaze, while Barry looked distant, Ollie toyed with the straps on his suit, and Hal’s gaze was firmly averted. The Lantern’s leg was bouncing idly.

“And we will not,” Wonder Woman said firmly but gently. “We must hope that Robin’s friends can help us further understand the circumstances.”

Batman could only nod and seat himself.

Wonder Woman turned again to Cyborg beside her at the end of the table. “If you would continue for us, Victor?”

Cyborg’s gaze lingered uneasily on Batman before he spoke up. “The whole ‘Red X’ thing was just Robin’s way of getting to that assassin.” He shrugged. “Maybe it would’ve worked out better if he had trusted us with the truth, and maybe it wouldn’t have...but he was only thinking of us--how to best protect the team.”

Wonder Woman nodded. "Of course," she said kindly. “Thank you, Victor. Now, Garfield,” she said, trying to catch Beast Boy's eye, “could you add to Victor's perspective of that night?”

Beast Boy’s chin didn’t move from where it rested on his arms crossed over the table. “Red X knocked me in front of a train while we were fighting,” the boy said frankly, but as League members exchanged glances he rolled his eyes and finished. “And then he pulled me out of the way. That didn’t make much sense ‘til we found out he was Robin.”

The questions continued, alternating between Titans as they covered events that had already been recounted to him. Still, Batman kept his eyes fixed on the Titans at the other end of the table, pointedly ignoring Clark, who was seated a few chairs to his left and still trying to catch his eye.

At last the tale reached the fateful night that Robin had resurfaced in Deathstroke’s colors.

“It doesn’t feel right, but Raven says that he wasn’t brainwashed,” Beast Boy mumbled, half into his arms. “and that’s kind of her thing, so she probably knows what she’s talking about. But...after Red X, that would make it twice this month that he’s kicked me around without that excuse.”

Wonder Woman’s lips pressed together tightly, and she paused before thanking the boy and turning to Raven. “Raven, can you confirm with absolute certainty that Robin’s mind was not interfered with in any way when you last saw him?”

Only the shift in Raven’s eyes indicated that the cloaked girl had heard her. With rigid posture, she sat with her hands folded in her lap and her hood drawn over her head.

“I wouldn’t say that it had not been interfered with in any way,” she said slowly, “but not in the way that you’re asking. I could feel his...frustration, as he fought us, but if he hadn’t been in control of his body his emotions would have been clouded.”

“Thank you, Raven. Now, Koriand’r?” The Tamaranean girl’s head of thick, knee-length curls turned sharply at her name. “Could you tell us what happened that night?”

For an instant the girl’s eyes grew round, almost alarmed, before her gaze returned to her lap. After a moment she began describing Robin’s erratic behaviour that morning--all due to his anger at Deathstroke--and how he had vanished during the subsequent search for Sarah Simm. By the time she reached the fight on the roof, her words came more slowly, reluctantly. At last, her words trailed to a stop.

Wonder Woman leaned closer, trying to meet her eyes. “The footage we have of the incident shows that both you and Robin disappeared from view for a short period of time. Could you tell us what happened?”

Batman noticed when Green Lantern looked significantly at Green Arrow, who was frowning.

Batman suddenly shared far more of the girl’s trepidation than he cared to.

So slowly and painfully that he could visualize her fists clenched at her sides, Starfire began to recall the incident that she had already told him.

“I...I had pursued Robin to the top of the sign, and then we--”

Raven suddenly gripped her shoulder. Starfire halted mid-sentence to look over her shoulder in surprise. What Batman could see of Raven’s face under her cowl was tight and wary, fixed on the other end of the table.

“Koriand’r,” she said in a low voice, dark and cold as a winter night. “They’ve already decided on his guilt. They aren’t thinking of how to help Robin, they’re thinking of how to stop him.”

Batman followed Raven’s gaze to the league members to his left, most of whom seemed taken aback. He studied their faces with a barely concealed scowl. Robin had always thought highly of Raven’s competence as an empath, as well as of her friendship, but in this circumstance Batman sincerely hoped that she was mistaken.

Green Arrow leaned forward and jabbed a finger in her direction. “Look kiddo, if you’re so good at reading minds, why don’t you tell us what was going on in Robin’s head? That’s all we want to know.”

Clark shot Green Arrow a stern look from across the table that was enough to make the man press his lips together and lean back in his chair.

Starfire rose above the table with clenched fists and fire in her emerald eyes. “You deceived us!” she snarled. “We came here only because we knew that Robin trusts you!”

“You said it,” Beast Boy muttered, narrowing his eyes at the League.

Cyborg gestured toward Batman with a scowl. “At least we expected better from Batman, here. You’re his father or somethin’, aren’t you?”

Batman scrutinized the unusual tension darkening Lantern’s features, Arrow’s irritated grimace, and the way Flash was awkwardly rubbing his jaw. Clark was the only one to return his gaze, but that pinched expression of concern only served to aggravate him.

Batman recalled seeing Donna and Wally waiting restlessly back in the hall of justice, and began to wonder exactly why they had been excluded.

Wonder Woman withdrew her own disapproving look at Green Arrow to face the Titans. “Children, I assure you that we ask these questions with the purest of intentions toward Robin and his safety. Koriand’r, dear...what happened next on the rooftop? If we are to help Robin, we must know.”

Starfire descended until her feet again touched the ground in a defiant stance, but she did not sit.

“He escaped us,” she answered shortly, leveling a scathing look on Diana.

Wonder Woman spread her hands entreatingly, meeting the girl’s openly defiant gaze. “Your records state that that night you were the only member of your team to sustain injury. We must know what happened.”

Starfire blinked in surprise, Cyborg’s jaw dropped, and all four Titans turned to Batman with betrayed expressions. At the moment, for different but similar reasons, Batman felt the same.

“I supplied them only with the relevant documents,” he said through gritted teeth, his granite-hard gaze fixed on Wonder Woman, who returned it with a pinched brow. “Or those that I perceived to be relevant at the time. You’re taking a while to get to the point, Wonder Woman.”

Wonder Woman gave him an earnest look that pleaded to be understood before turning back to the Titans. “I assure you, all of you, that this is necessary.”

Cyborg scowled deeply and crossed his arms over his chest. “You aren’t gettin’ anything out of us until you explain why it’s necessary. Robin may be our leader, but he’s also our friend, and we have a right to know what’s going on here.”

Diana closed her eyes for a long moment. “I...believe the League should review a few things before we continue this discussion. We will contact you when we're ready to resume.” Reaching down to her waist, she raised the lasso of truth in her hand. “I swear to you that we shall do everything in our power to help Robin. And children, though we may have led you to think otherwise, please believe me when I say that we do all share in your sorrow.”

They hesitated for a few moments, but the young people rose from their seats to follow Diana’s guiding arm toward the hall.

Green Arrow leaned toward Green Lantern, and the sensitive audio enhancers in Batman’s cowl picked up the words spoken under his breath.

“Diana did pretty well, considering,” he said wryly. “I’m sure glad I didn’t get saddled with that job. Never been much good with kids.”

Green Lantern was staring down at the table as though he hadn’t heard him, and Clark was wearily rubbing his face with his hands.

“But your ward is a teenager,” Flash protested in an equally subdued tone, sounding confused.

“Exactly,” Green Arrow sighed.

The other vigilante’s all too familiar facetious tone snapped the last fragile tendril of patience Batman had managed to retain.

“Every last one of the Titans’ questions and concerns were valid,” he snapped, “especially considering how this team appears to be blatantly disregarding the amount of time that has already been wasted. Or has the purpose behind this gathering been forgotten already?”

His voice carried, and the young heroes paused on their way to the door. Green Arrow’s gaze snapped irritably toward his for a split instant before a flicker of remorse replaced the irritation. He dropped his gaze.

“We haven’t forgotten anything,” he muttered.

“Sorry about that, Batman,” Flash said ruefully, as though he had been included in the accusation. “And...I want to say how sorry I am for what happened. I mean, if it had been Wally...”

Flash’s tone, rather than his words, grated strangely in his ears. “Sorry for what?” he demanded.

Flash seemed taken aback. “Well, you know...” he faltered. “I can’t even begin to imagine how hard this must be for you after...”

Flash faltered again, possibly because of the overly sharp question, and also possibly, Batman considered as he picked up on sharp motion out of the corner of his eye, because Clark was staring at him, slashing his hand urgently across his throat.

“--After what happened to the other one,” another voice finished, so dry and uncharacteristically cold for Green Lantern as to be rendered nearly unrecognizable. “After that, someone should have known better than to leave a kid loose on the streets.”

“Lantern!” Wonder Woman barked, but she went unheeded. Green Lantern glowered at Batman over crossed arms.

Batman’s fingers tightened around his arm rests, but his face was an impassive mask, the muscles of it frozen of their own volition.

Seated to the Lantern’s right, Green Arrow’s gaze flickered between them. He shifted in his seat uneasily. “C’mon, Hal...” he muttered, “we don’t need to...”

“I’m sorry for lumping you in like this, Ollie, but even with Roy the situation was different. Star City is not and never will be what Gotham is. Batman chose to raise two kids on that twisted city’s streets, and nothing comes out of Gotham uncontaminated.” He turned a significant look on Batman. “Not even the good guys.”

Batman rose slowly, stiffly. “What are you implying?”

Green Lantern rose in turn, leaning over the table toward him. “I’m implying that Robin was in the perfect position for an opportunistic creep like Deathstroke to get into his head--thanks to you.”

Wonder Woman’s fist slammed down on the table with a roar. “Lantern, that is ENOUGH!”

The entire table surface shuddered, a hair of pressure away from snapping in two.

“Bruce.” He heard Clark’s whisper from just beside him. There was warning in it. Clark didn’t trust him not to start something.

And he shouldn’t.

Neither he nor Lantern made any move to sit.

Flash turned his head suddenly, and zipped to the other side of the room to quietly send off the Titans, who had been standing forgotten in the doorway with stunned expressions on each of their faces. Solemn silence filled the moments until the children were gone, and then Wonder Woman spoke again, this time with quiet anger in her voice.

“Any discussion of guilt or innocence can wait until we have found Robin. As Batman has already established, we are losing valuable time.”

“Yes, we are,” Lantern agreed sourly, dropping back into his seat. “The press will be all over this. It’s exactly what our critics have been waiting for--evidence that we’re just as dangerous and unpredictable as the criminals we take down. And the more convinced the public becomes that Robin’s turned coat, the more difficult it will be to salvage their trust in us.”

“I don’t think we need to worry about that just yet,” Clark interjected calmly, “but if it comes to that, I can help us prepare a press statement.”

“The truth should be more than enough to satisfy the public,” Batman said flatly. All faces turned to him, their expressions difficult to read. He ignored them. “The video evidence removes any question from the situation. Tell them that we are dealing with a hostage situation--that henceforth Robin’s every action should be presumed to be done under some form of coercion, and that all possible effort must be made to track Deathstroke down and recover Robin uninjured.”

There was a moment of silence.

“We can’t prove those assumptions, Batman,” Flash said quietly.

We can’t lie to them, Batman heard, though it remained unspoken.

Clark raised his hand before he could snap out a retort. “Wait Barry, the video may not be the tangible proof we need, but I know Robin pretty well, and his body language in that video was definitely concerning.”

Green Arrow interjected again. “C’mon, Supes, you’ve got to admit that won’t convince anyone. If Robin was ever in a hostage situation wouldn’t he have made some attempt to leave us a message? That’s basic training, right? And that videotape doesn’t count. Even Bats admits that Robin didn’t realize he was being filmed.”

“And that isn’t all that we need to discuss, either,” interjected Green Lantern. “We can’t forget that Robin knew all of our identities and had a very high level of clearance in the Watchtower. So long as Robin is with Deathstroke our most carefully guarded secrets are at risk.”

“Gentlemen,” Wonder Woman said sternly. “Until the facts lead us to certain knowledge, please keep your theories to yourselves.”

“But we do know something for certain,” Batman snapped. “We know Robin. Every single one of you has known him for years. And you know what he is and is not capable of.”

“Uh, Bats...” Flash began hesitantly, and Batman wheeled a stony glare at him. “I can’t stand behind everything Hal is saying, but...if we’re wondering why Robin would do something like this, I mean, you do realize what this looks like.”

“What does it look like?”

Flash visibly balked at the acid in his tone, and shrugged miserably. “C’mon, man...don't make me say it...”

“Say what?” Batman growled.

Flash swallowed, shrugged again, and started fiddling with one of his gloves. “It’s just that...I mean, we were all kind of under the impression that, uh...you and Robin didn’t part on the best of terms?”

Ice, hard and painfully sharp, formed in the center of his chest. Cutting into his lungs until all he could take in and release were barely controlled hisses of breath.

He stood, slowly, using the utmost of his self control to contain the rage when his hands were nearly shaking with it. “I am...truly disappointed to discover that this team is willing to use an innocent boy as a buffer between the world and its reputation.”

For a moment, before he turned away, he almost thought that he saw him, perched on the table in front of him with his long, gangly legs swinging over the edge, a familiar image from all those years that Bruce had relented to let him sit in while a league meeting droned on.

The image faded.

He turned away, but paused to wheel a piercing glare at his seated teammates. “When you speak to the presses I suggest that you try to explain how it is possible that a fifteen year old boy has more integrity in him than does this entire facade of a Justice League.”

+ - + - + - +

Bruce swept out of the conference room without another word or glance.

The entire room was dumbstruck, and it took a few moments for Clark to gather himself enough to go after him.

Within an instant he had breezed into the hall, and he caught up to Bruce a few steps past the door. Bruce’s expressionless white lenses looked right through him, and then Bruce stepped around him as though he were an inanimate object obstructing his path.

Clark wished that hadn’t hurt.

He moved just quickly enough to keep up with Bruce’s long, snapping pace. “Bruce,” he began, trying not to sound desperate, “please, you can’t just walk out now. I know this went badly, and I’m sorry, but you can’t--”

“You were very quiet tonight,” Bruce interrupted icily.

Clark stared for a moment, guilt holding his tongue. “Diana was...”

“You knew him better than all the others put together,” Bruce cut in again, and only then did he look Clark in the eyes. Clark felt himself wilt a little under the accusation in them. “Don’t tell me that you’ve lost faith in him too.”

“No, Bruce, I would never--I do believe in him, Bruce. He’s an amazing kid, I’d give anything for him and you know that. I’m just trying to tell you that we need to communicate. All of us. That’s what a team does. I know they handled it badly and jumped to conclusions, but you can’t just give up on them like this. This is your team and--”

“No, Clark, it’s your team.” That retort almost came out in a rasp, and Bruce had already looked away again. “Call me once they come to their senses and decide to stop scapegoating the victim of this situation.”

“That isn’t--Bruce--”

Bruce vanished into the teleporter without a backward glance.

Clark closed his eyes, counted slowly to ten and then back down to zero, and then released his breath as slowly and calmly as he could.

He turned on his heel and stalked back to the conference room at a human speed to allow himself to work off the edge of his temper.

But he could hear his teammates’ chattering as clearly as if he were in the room with him, and the subject set his teeth on edge.

“But then...why wasn’t Robin in Gotham?” Barry asked helplessly.

“Barry, please...” Diana sounded exhausted.

Hal’s voice broke in, and as Clark approached the sliding doors, he again began counting to ten. “We can’t just drop these questions, Diana. In that video Robin was even wearing that ‘R’ of his. If that doesn’t tell us something I don’t know what would. And as for Robin’s health...I mean, it’s not that I think Deathstroke’s a fun guy to live with, but what reason do we have to believe that Robin wasn’t there voluntarily?”

“Maybe you don’t need a reason,” Clark said, stalking through the conference room doors. “Maybe all you need is a little faith in a longtime friend, and just the barest smidge of respect for a man grieving the loss of his only surviving son.”

Hal turned to look at him, openmouthed, but Clark’s gaze shifted from him to each of the other leaguers in turn.

Ollie shook his head with a quiet sigh. “I’m glad Roy wasn’t here to see this,” he muttered, a little bitterly. “He’s been worried sick.”

“Wally, too,” Barry added miserably.

Diana stood still and somber, absorbed in her own thoughts, and the silence stretched on as they all did the same.

Barry broke it. “Hal, I can’t believe you threw Robin’s death in his face like that. He wasn’t just any sidekick, he was...was that one adopted? I...don’t think I ever asked.”

“All the more reason for him to know better.”

“This is beyond being wrong or right, Lantern,” Diana said sternly. “You prioritized your feelings over team unity.”

“Alright, alright,” Hal sighed, “I get it. I came on too strong, like always, right? But it’s not like I blame the kid--if I’d been in his shoes I’d probably have lost it years ago. And besides, Bats had it coming.”

Clark approached the table only to grip the back of his chair almost tightly enough to break it. “Well I hope getting that off your chest was worth it,” he said fiercely, “because we just lost the one League member who had a decent chance of finding Robin if he doesn’t want to be found. And we were gathered here to help his son.”

“Yes we were,” said Diana, her eyes still weary, but her hands planted squarely on the table. “And we still are. But I must agree with one of the points that Lantern presented. In time we will need to address the public’s suspicions.”

Clark closed his eyes, his heart sinking, because he knew exactly what Diana was about to say. Worse, he wasn’t sure he could contradict it.

“If we deny the increasingly obvious truth that Deathstroke’s young accomplice is Robin, we lose their trust. If we admit to his identity but do not pursue him as we would a criminal our impartiality will be called into question. We can afford to delay this, but not inevitably.” She let out a long, carefully controlled breath. “We have only one choice, and Hera help me, I wish there was another way.”

+ - + - + - +

He emerged from the teleport back into the Hall of Justice, and this time saw Donna and Wally with the Titans gathered around them in a conference of their own. The group had already turned to watch him, and six pairs of eyes fixed on him as he redirected his steps to approach them.

If the League couldn’t comprehend the inherent absurdity of the suspicion that Dick--that Robin would ever willingly join an assassin, then he was left no choice but to seek out allies who could.

Both the former and present members of the Titans readily and eagerly agreed to help. The small entourage made its way through the sewers toward the former location of the bomb as well as the point of Robin’s departure, and under his direction they set about combing the tunnels inch by inch.

The search, though now performed with the very best of Cyborg’s tech as well as his own, uncovered nothing. Searching the tunnels from the point of Robin’s departure proved even less fruitful, even with Beast Boy’s attempts at catching his scent that proved useless among the pungent sewage and Raven’s futile attempts to feel Robin's presence.

To bypass the sewer water issue Batman had earlier asked Wonder Girl to call Aqualad to help their search. The girl had winced, probably at the prospect of assigning her friend such an unpleasant task, but she readily agreed.

Along with Aqualad, Roy Harper--Speedy--arrived some hours into the search, stared up at Batman in his red and yellow archer’s costume and demanded, rather than offered, to help with the investigation.

Batman shot a frustrated look at Wonder Girl, who was clearly biting back a grin. She raised her hands defensively. “I promise I didn’t call him!”

“Yeah, about that,” Speedy cut in. “How come I had to hear about this get-together from Wally, huh? Since when did I become the team member to get snubbed for invitations?”

Batman bit back a sigh. “Green Arrow--”

“Hey, Ollie doesn’t get a say in Titans business, okay? He--hey, Wonderdoll wait up!” He broke off running after Wonder Girl down the tunnel.

The dark tunnels devoured precious hours, again cutting him off from outside communication, but there was still so much ground to cover. He had been all too happy to evade any attempted contact from the League, but guilt over leaving Alfred completely in the dark about his activities since leaving the cave that morning finally drove him to return briefly to the surface.

He crawled out of the manhole and slipped into a nearby alley before activating his comm. “Alfred. I--”

“Oh, thank God, Sir. I have been trying to contact you for the past hour, and--your witnesses from the HIVE...they’ve been murdered.”

. . .

The five kills had been executed swiftly. Neatly. But despite what the circumstances could have led him to believe, poison had never been part of Deathstroke’s repertoire.

The last surviving witness, the torture victim, had evidently been saved for last. He was still breathing when Batman again broke into his hospital room with disconcerting ease despite the increased security. The man was still unconscious, but twitching slightly, with thick, beading sweat dripping from his forehead into his hair.

Batman pressed a gloved hand over the man’s mouth. He jerked awake. Two wide, bloodshot eyes locked on him and the man writhed and fought uselessly to scream through the hand.

“Less than two hours ago your allies were assassinated by the HIVE,” Batman said, his voice low, but too guttural to be a whisper. The man’s pathetic struggles only worsened. “Answer a few questions and I will ensure that you don’t--”

The man’s eyes rolled back in his head. The writhing evolved into convulsions, and Batman became suddenly aware that the man’s skin under his gloves was unnaturally hot. Suddenly that made horrifying sense.

He whipped out a batarang and sliced through the catheter connecting the bag of fluids to the man’s arm. How long had it been feeding the poison into his system? The machine beside the bed was already beeping an automatic alarm.

Help would come too late.

“Did you see Robin?” he demanded, releasing the man to moan freely. “The boy with Deathstroke!”

The man’s rolling eyes briefly flickered over his, confused and probably delirious. “...R...Renegade?” he gasped.

. . .

Until the cave analysis of the poison sample was complete, all he had was a suspicion. One that he could confirm through another, more readily available means.

He hacked into hospital security footage to search through the hours prior to his own entrance, and there at last he found the assassin: a dark haired nurse, glancing both ways as she entered the room.

She pulled a long syringe out of her pocket, and as she injected it into the bag of fluids, Batman could just make out her nails--long, sharp, and painted green. With the job finished so easily, she turned to leave the room. The lower half of her face was covered by a hospital mask, but her cat-like eyes flickered up toward the camera, and he recognized the assassin's distinctive matching emerald: Cheshire.

Batman had vanished by the time the medics poured into the room, but carefully out of sight, he had watched.

The man had died within minutes.

And still, Batman had a new, wrong name that chanted through his mind until it lost meaning in the din.

#it's been a long month but #new chapter!#teen titans #the apprentice #bruce wayne #dick grayson #slade wilson #clark kent #batman #batfam #too many characters to tag #diana prince #koriand'r #victor stone #raven #gar logan #my writing #bad company #bad company ch 5

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