"You sleep better after I left last night?" Cassie asked, setting down his tray and perching beside it.

Tim hesitated. "Yeah," he said finally. He'd slept for eight hours, and hadn't had a single dream. It was exquisite.

The reason for it was that she'd been in the room. He couldn’t bring himself to hate that fact, and that was upsetting.

"But I'll be fine tonight," Tim said. He didn't want her back down there. He already waited for her to arrive, knowing it meant (a reprieve from boredom) the bathroom, a chance to stretch his legs, and food. He didn't need to rely on her for anything else. Especially not peace of mind.

"If you're sure…"

"I'm sure."

She nodded and stood.

That night they played Scrabble.

"I can't believe you won," Tim muttered, sitting back on his hands and eying the board. "I still think things like 'hyrdroxyzine' shouldn't count."

Cassie laughed and put the little letters back in their case. "That's what a medical education got me," she said, grinning.

Tim snorted. Then reminded himself he wasn't supposed to be enjoying this. He was only supposed to pretend to enjoy it (captives begin to rely on their captors for basic needs. They depend on them).

"I should probably head up, though. You need your sleep." She looked at him closely. "You still aren't looking so swift. A little skinny."

"Well, if I could do more than sit on this bed all day…" Tim grumbled.

Cassie smiled and shrugged. "Maybe soon."

"Yeah?" Tim mentally kicked himself when he heard the hope in his voice. "I mean--"

"I know. You're still waiting for Batman to come save you."

Tim cringed. "That obvious?"

Cassie nodded. "It's okay. I'd be waiting, too." An almost wistful looked crossed her face. "I waited for years." She tucked the board under one arm and stood.

"Cassie--" Tim said, watching her head toward the door.

She stopped and looked at him.

He had no idea what he'd been about to say. He licked his lips and eyed the new lamp, now far out of reach. He glanced at the laundry room door. A fly crawled up it.

"You want me to stay?"

He shook his head wordlessly. "Leave the light on?"

Cassie nodded. "Sure." She walked out and closed the door behind her.

**

"You told our secrets."

He tried to open his mouth, to explain that he hadn't meant to. Flies swarmed in the moment he did.

Batman knelt in front of him. Reached up. Pulled off the cowl.

It was Cassie. "You were supposed to, though. Now I'm going to put you in the room with the other Robins. You can just stay there."

Tim screamed. And woke up. There was still a voice. Her voice. He flinched, panicking for just an instant. Maybe it hadn't been a dream. Maybe--

"Don't lock me in there," he heard himself breathe, and snapped his jaw closed.

"Shh, no, I won't put you in there. You've been good. I told you, I promised you I'd only put you in there if you did something stupid."

Tim cringed, arms over his face. "I won't do something stupid." He wanted to think that if he tried anything, he could manage it completely. Escape. Be free.

But it hadn't worked before. Enough times that he was afraid to try again.

She rubbed his stomach. His fingers hurt. Throbbed. Every heartbeat made them worse.

He could escape. It would be all right.

"Hey, relax. You're shaking. It's okay."

He was supposed to be brave and strong. He was Robin, damn it. But all he could think about was (blue eyes) flies crawling over his skin (writhing hair) and the panic he'd felt at being locked in the laundry room (at pushing through a rotted body). He knew it was due, in part, to starvation and exhaustion (dead bodies) and surely he wouldn't get hysterical again (crawling into open mouths) but he couldn't imagine being locked in the room with (five dead boys) all those flies.

"Hey. Take it easy. It's all right."

And he knew she would do it.

"Define 'stupid'," Tim said quietly.

"What?"

He pulled his arms away. "You said if I do anything stupid. Define 'stupid.'"

Cassie sat back, thinking. "Try and escape, obviously."

Tim nodded. He shifted carefully. His ankle was raw. Bled sluggishly, now. Always hurt.

"Try to hurt me."

Nodded again.

"Emotionally or physically," Cassie added. "If you become cruel, suddenly. That would be stupid."

Tim swallowed. She was still talking. Thoughtfully. Slowly. It seemed to boil down to 'do anything I dislike, and I'll lock you in with the corpses.'

She looked right at him. "There's chicken wire on the outside of that window, too, so don't even think about getting yourself locked in there hoping to escape."

Tim shook his head. He rubbed his face with one arm, and watched her. "I'd be friends with you if you let me go," he murmured.

She looked at him sharply. "Don't be stupid."

Tim tensed.

Cassie looked confused, then shook her head. "Bad choice of words. I won't lock you in there for that."

Tim nodded, forcing his muscles to relax.

Cassie sighed. "Robin, you're my best friend. I don't really want to hurt you. I just want you to be nice. Friends like each other. They do nice things for each other. They protect each other."

Tim stared. "Yeah, but they don't kidnap each other."

Cassie shrugged. "You won't care about that after a while." She smiled. "You've been here for almost four weeks, now. We've had some set backs, but I'm sure you've felt it. You wait for me to come down, because I'm the only friend you have anymore. Without me here, you wouldn't be fed. Wouldn't have anyone to talk to. You can't help but focus on me. That feeling will get stronger. It'll be good. It'll be just you and me. No one else. No one else would understand."

Tim said nothing. He didn't want to argue. Didn't want to make her angry. He wanted to go home.

Cassie patted his stomach. "Go back to bed. It's not even morning yet."

Tim laid back down and watched her leave. The door closed softly behind her. She left the light on. He stared at the ceiling. Watched a fly crawl. Stop. Rub its legs together. Take off, and head drunkenly toward the laundry room.

Four weeks. Batman should have found him by now (if a person is going to be found, it is within the first five days. After that, chances of ever recovering them decrease dramatically).

Tim stared at the ceiling.

**

"You look funny."

Tim turned the key in the lock and cringed as he peeled the cuff away from his skin. He bled. "Funny?"

"Hmm. What's wrong?"

He flexed his foot, blinking back tears that sprung to his eyes when it hurt. "Just thinking."

"About?"

He put weight on it carefully. It wasn't going to hold. Not right away. "I didn't know I'd been here that long." He supposed he'd spent a large amount of time unconscious, sick, or in a half-starved stupor.

"Oh."

He stepped on his other foot, and limped to the bathroom. When he came out, Cassie looked sympathetic. "I'm sorry."

"About what?" Tim asked. He sat down on the bed, stretching in ways he couldn't with his ankle handcuffed to the footboard, then looked at the dull metal. He was going to have to put that back on. Shit.

"Your parents."

Tim's head snapped up. "What?"

Cassie blinked. "Oh. Oh. You wouldn't know. They--you going to put that on?"

Tim hesitated. "Yeah." Maybe on the other foot, though. "Can't we get a chain or something? So I'm not just stuck in one spot? I mean, it really gets uncomfortable."

"No chain. You've already proved you're too sneaky to be given much room."

Tim frowned. "I'm going to be crippled."

Cassie craned her neck, looking. "Oh. That doesn't look good. Put it on the other foot, and I'll see what I can find in the city today to help."

Tim nodded and tightened the cuff around his healthy ankle. "Now--my parents?" He tossed the keys.

Cassie put the tranq gun away, then picked the keys up and hung them outside the basement door. She picked the tray up off of the stairs, and walked into the room. "I don't know how to tell you this, kiddo," she said slowly. "I mean, they looked really hard for a long time. Bruce Wayne, too. He's pretty fond of you. But, I mean, it’s been weeks. And no leads. And--"

"What?" Tim ground out.

Cassie sat down beside him. "The police have advised your parents that it's probably too late."

He knew it would happen. He hadn't expected the police to find him, anyway. It was still a blow. "No."

Cassie was silent.

"No," Tim said again. "You're lying."

She wasn't. He knew that. "I'm sorry." She reached up and smoothed his hair back. He wanted to hit her. He didn't.

"But--here, look. I got you something." She smiled and held up the tray.

An electric razor. Tim stared at it.

"I mean, you were clean-shaven before, and it's not like you have a lot of body hair, but…"

"Yeah," he said softly. "Sure. Thanks." His parents wouldn't have given up hope. Certainly not Bruce. Bruce would still be looking for him.

"Why don't you shave, and I'll take it back upstairs."

Tim did so. Lethargically. Mind elsewhere. Did it by touch, and was distantly glad he couldn't cut himself with it.

Batman would find him. It didn't matter how long it had been (people not found within five days of going missing will likely never be found).

**

He watched her, sitting cross-legged on the floor, poking at her spaghetti. "I guess kidnapping seemed the only viable option for me. I was tired of my brother and his friends beating me up."

Tim just listened. Picked at the new bandage on his ankle. Cleaning it had been painful. Cassie had been as careful as she could, for which he was grateful, but the flesh was a mess. His other ankle had a bizarre fur-covered handcuff she'd gotten at a sex shop. He didn't care. He was just glad it didn't hurt.

"I really like you."

Tim ate his garlic bread. He was starting to understand her. It terrified him. But terror didn't make it any less true. He understood why she'd want a friend. Why she'd want someone to protect her from her brother and his friends. He suspected rape, though she hadn't said as much. Something in the way she moved when she talked about them. He was glad her brother was dead.

"We could be friends even if you let me go," Tim said softly. He was surprised to realize he meant it. More surprised when he realized he didn’t care about her response. Knew what it would be. Didn’t feel sick at the thought.

Cassie smiled. "No, we couldn't. I'd go to jail."

Tim looked up in surprise. "I wouldn't send you to jail. I mean--as long as you didn't go kidnapping anymore people." It was more like she did it out of self-defense than anything. Not right, but he understood it.

Cassie gave him an odd look. "I think you mean that."

Tim said nothing.

"We gonna be friends, Robin?"

Panic struck. This was the woman who'd hurt him, threatened him. SHOT him. She'd murdered people. Locked him in a room. Drugged him. Starved him. Nearly caused a nervous breakdown. Did cause so many nightmares, he wasn't sleeping (exhaustion can bond people. Traumatic experiences, too. This combination is how they create navy SEAL teams that will work together no matter what). "I--I--" (Don't say no, his mind hissed. She'll lock you in with the corpses.) He couldn't say yes. It might be true.

Cassie smiled ruefully and stood. "Relax. Get some sleep."

She left. Tim sat up for another hour, mind twisting. Most of what he thought didn't make sense anymore (too little sleep causes breakdowns in logic). It wasn't Stockholm. It was just that… he understood where she was coming from (Stockholm Syndrome causes captives to identify with their captors. It is a survival tactic. It can happen within days, or over a period of weeks, depending on circumstances and the individual).

It was not Stockholm.

Eventually, he settled into sleep.

And woke screaming. Looking for warm hands and a soothing voice. Nearly panicked in the dark, when they weren't there.

He'd been locked in the room with the Robins. He could hear buzzing. Something crawled on his leg.

"CASSIE!" he roared. Shrieked. Voice too high. "Help!"

A bed. He was on a bed (cloth under his hands) so he couldn't be in the room (cloth moving with hundreds of little flies). "CASSIE!" His voice broke.

The door slammed open, the light turned on.

"It's okay," she said, racing across the room in a nightrobe.

Not the corpse-room. His room. No. The basement. His room.

"You're okay."

Arms around him, pulling him in, close. A heartbeat. He shivered.

"It's okay. You're safe now. I'm here. It's okay."

He relaxed into her hug and let her rock him, shaking and breathing much too fast. "I thought--I thought--"

"Shhhh, it's all right. You're safe. Nothing bad will happen to you."

He closed his eyes. Hung onto her robe. Shook. It took him a bit to realize what he was doing. Then he stiffened and pulled slowly away.

She let him go, watching with concern.

He didn't need her. He didn't. He wouldn't.

"All right. I'm going to go back to bed. Are you sure you're okay?"

He nodded. Watched her stand. Walk toward the door. His heart hammered in his chest, and he could still feel the flies--

"Cassie?" His voice broke. He cleared his throat.

She stopped and looked at him. "Yes?"

He gripped the blankets. Looked toward the laundry room door. "Could you--stay? Just for a little while." (Captives begin to depend on their captors.)

She nodded, and walked slowly back. Settled down on his bed. Reached out with one arm and--he wouldn't cuddle up next to her. She wasn't his mother, or Dana, or even Babs. But he didn't move away when she brushed soothing fingers through his hair. He relaxed when she started to hum. Eventually, he fell asleep.

**

Noon, if his internal clock was right. He didn't need Cassie. Could entertain himself. Could think up plans to escape (so far they consisted of 'don't freak out') while she was gone (victims often concoct detailed ideas of grandiose escapes they will not carry out).

Tracked a fly as it made its way across one wall.

Didn't look at the laundry room door.

He could hear the buzzing. Jesus. He didn't know how he'd missed it before. It seemed like a chainsaw, now.

He moved his broken fingers, just so they'd hurt. So he'd have something else to think about. He spent several minutes cursing and hissing and breathing through his teeth while pain washed over him.

Thought about information he'd gotten from Cassie. Her brother and his friends had tormented her. Not just 'picked on', like she said, but definitely torment. Locked her in the closet. Stripped her down at school and left her. Beaten her on a fairly regular basis. Her father hadn't. But he also hadn't done anything to stop them.

They were in the mountains.

She'd grown up in Gotham. Her father had moved here later. She'd grown up imagining Batman and Robin would come save her. They never had. They didn’t save the regular person. The kids that needed it (hostility toward authority figures often develops, as the victim realizes, consciously or unconsciously, that a rescue attempt could result in the victim being injured). Tim shook his head. Told his brain to shut up. It wasn’t that. It was just the truth.

She didn't have friends. The kids at school teased her. Not as bad as her brother, but not far off. She'd started university. Had a string of abusive boyfriends.

No wonder she wanted a friend that would protect her. He had no idea how she thought he was going to do that locked in the basement, but he understood the desire.

He wondered when she'd come back down. Checked his internal clock. Twelve thirty, or so. She'd brought him lunch an hour before. She wouldn’t likely return until five or six. He didn't need her. Not for company. Not to relieve boredom. Not to drown out the sound of the flies buzzing nearby.

He jumped and slapped at his arm. Nothing was there. He'd thought he'd felt a tickle, but…

Tim laid back down. Scratched at his shin with the toes of his other foot. Picked at what was left of the bullet-graze; just a scab, now (starvation slows healing time of wounds. But he wasn’t starving anymore. Skinny, still. Not starving). Picked it until it bled, then scolded himself and left it alone.

Tried not to hear the flies. Jumped and swore when one landed on his bleeding thigh. Slapped at it, missed. It rose, big and bloated, shining green, and flew away.

He tried to think of something else. Anything. His parents. He wondered if they were still looking for him. Maybe they'd hired a PI. Then he shook his head. If Batman couldn’t find him…

Jason Todd was dead. Maybe Batman figured he was, too. No. Surely they wouldn’t give up. He thought about shouting for Superman. Glanced at the baby monitor and discarded the idea. He figured that qualified as 'stupid.' He wasn't even sure if Superman would hear him. After all, sure, superhearing. But super enough to hear him no matter where Superman was? It was hard to believe. Maybe if they were in the same city…

He wondered how Superman got his hair cut. If he was invulnerable, then wasn’t his hair…? But no, that was silly. Hair was made up of dead cells. Dead cells probably weren't invulnerable.

He wondered what Cassie was doing. Glanced at the baby monitor. Considered asking. Maybe she'd come down. Talk to him.

No. He didn't need her. Not for that. He certainly didn't look forward to seeing her.

Tim knew the lie even as he thought it. Jesus. But at least there were rules. It wasn't like she did mean things to him randomly. As long as he followed the rules, everything was fine. He had a choice here.

He shook his head. Not the way to be thinking. He was pretty sure of that. Even if those thoughts did make sense. If he did A, the consequence was B. That made sense.

He frowned. He could have sworn that there was something that didn't fit there. But--no. If he did A, B happened. Still made sense.

Tim stared at the ceiling. Counted backwards from one hundred thousand. Figured out how to recite the alphabet backwards, and then memorized it. Sat up and examined the sex-toy-ankle-bond. He was pretty sure he could get it off. There had to be a quick-release thing somewhere, if it was a sex toy. He twisted and turned, trying to see the whole thing.

Okay. Maybe not. But those links were pretty weak. He could see a seam in the metal already trying to pull apart. A good twist and he thought he might be able to break them.

That would be Stupid. He laid back down. Considered doing it anyway. Imagined what Cassie's reaction would be if she came down and found him free on the bed.

Tim shuddered. Breathed deeply for several minutes, trying to calm himself. Shit. Panic. He rolled onto his side and closed his eyes, breathing. He couldn't seem to get enough air. Couldn't--

Shit. Shit.

Black spots in front of his eyes. Hyperventilating. But he couldn't fucking breathe.

He lay, heaving, spine arched in an effort to expand his lungs. The world dimmed down to a spot on the door. The door opened.

"Robin! Are you all right? It's okay. Breathe, buddy. Breathe. Hang on--"

She left. Came back. Tim caught sight of a syringe, and twisted, scrabbling away while the world tilted precariously.

"It's all right. Trust me."

She stabbed him. He whimpered and dropped to the bed, holding his arm where the needle had hit. He laid there, and breathed, and waited for darkness to claim him.

Slowly, his vision returned. He felt sleepy.

"You okay?"

With great effort, he nodded. "What…?"

"Sedative. You were having a panic attack."

"Oh." Tim closed his eyes.

"Want to tell me what set it off?"

Tim shuddered. Licked his lips. Tried to get some moisture in his mouth again. "I think--you should get new cuffs."

"What?"

He opened his eyes. "There's a flaw in these. I could--could take them apart and I don't want--want to--" he closed his eyes. Swallowed. "I don't want to do that." The temptation would be there. As long as he knew the flaw, the temptation would be there.

Cassie nodded slowly. "Okay. I'll get new ones. Are these ones okay until I do?"

Tim shook his head.

"The only other ones I have are the ones that are too tight--"

"I'll live. For a day or two, I'll just deal." He couldn’t keep these ones. Images of (rotting flesh) flies kept swarming around him. He wiped the hand that had (punched through skin) blood on it before against the blanket.

"All right. Hang on." She left. When she returned, it was with the handcuffs. He felt sick. He was Robin. Wasn't he supposed to use things like this? Use them to escape? Not tell his captor about it. No wonder Batman wasn't looking for him. He closed his eyes and laid back down until the switch was done.

"You okay?" he heard Cassie ask.

Tim nodded.

She was quiet. Then, "Okay." He heard her footsteps retreat. The door closed.

Tim clenched his eyes shut and tried not to think about what he'd just done.

***********

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