Trapped Under Pressure

Chapter 22:

Warning. The author does not accept responsibility for any of the following:
Death, tears, even more tears, sobs, too much ANGST for your puny emotions, I like how Angst suddenly capitalized itself, irrational fear, hatred for Deathstroke, hatred for Slade, regret, sorrow, even more tears, fluffy angst, murder attempts, assasination attempts and/or the chucking of cars/buses/sticks/metal/items over 1kg/items under 1kg/items exactly 1kg/bombs/items over 50kg, sudden deaths, riots, destruction of cities/towns, the burning of DC, and finally; your wishes to murder me.
I accept responsibility for none of these things that will probably be aimed at me.  
I'VE HAD THIS IN MY DRAFTS FOR SO LONG WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME

^-^ 

Note to self to delete later: Myocardial Rupture

...I honestly don't understand why you even bother coming back, to be honest.

~Chapter 22~ ;")

The door opened quietly and Dick sent a sideway glance to the door as he nibbled on the chocolate bar he was currently eating. Jason didn't even bother looking at the door, already knowing what Batman had come to do. He frowned. Already? 

"Robin," Batman stated, gaining said boy's attention. "We need to talk," He finished. Dick immediately felt his guard skyrocket up, his eyes going dull on instinct as he blocked anyone from being able to tell what he was thinking. His mind rushed at a million miles per hour as his mind began to analyse the situation and come up with various useful excuses and he switched to Robin. Batman frowned as he noticed the immediate change and reaction to his words.

"Don't put your guard up around us, kid," Jason muttered, his hair falling into his eyes and blocking them from sight. Huffing, he pushed his bangs from his eyes, staring up at Robin with a determined but fierce gaze. Batman stepped closer to the two, not wanting to waste time and quite frankly, just wanted to get it over with. He was well aware that he would not like the results - no one would, but if it had to happen. Tim and Damian slipped through the door quietly, but Batman ignored them, as he knew he wouldn't be able to get rid of them.

"Robin," Batman started, taking a deep breath. "Please take off your shirt. We need to assess any damage to your body during your time with Deathstroke."

Robin stared at him, eyes still terribly dull but his eyes were calculating - his mind calculating every possible move and reaction and how he could react to everything. His mind formulated the lies, the deceits - how to give the truth but to still lie. He couldn't tell Batman everything. He didn't need to know, he may think he needs to know but he doesn't need to know everything. That's right; he doesn't. 

'You'll never escape your chains. Not as long as they're constantly attached to you, refusing to let go and constantly keeping you near.'

Robin's eyes dulled even more as the same familiar words rang in his head, deceiving and breaking his already shattered mind.

'The more they're made to worry about you, the more they'll think you can't fight yourself - that you need to be constantly protected by them. Keep your guard up, Renegade. You're nothing but a helpless little kid in their eyes but we both know what you are and what you've done.'

"Why do I need to take my shirt off? I don't have any injuries right now," Robin attempted, looking Batman in the eye. He didn't need to give Batman a reason to keep him close, to keep him chained down...

"Robin, even if that is the case, we... I, need to know what you've been through as your guardian. It's my job to protect you and I won't be able to help you if you don't let me in," Batman spoke back, his voice soft as he tried to persuade Robin. Except, is words weren't helping the situation in the slightest.