Title: Realization
Rating: T for some mature situations, though it could probably pass for K+. It does get a little dark, though.
Word Count: 2873 (not including notes, of course)
Inspirations: None, really. Just sort of an out-of-the-blue idea. If you stretched… dA, maybe.
Influences: DBAinsw's Twisted Love: Tough Love. Go read that once you're done with this – it's listed in my favorites.

Notes: Okay, so, I was not planning on writing this one at all. Funny how the things I end up finishing are ideas that just sort of hit me all at once… there was literally no planning for this one, just spur of the moment words coming up as I went.

I'm really pleased with how this came out – I don't remember hitting any rough spots, even though I was interrupted. I did get this down in the span of a few hours, so… yay? But yeah. Hopefully you enjoy this as much as I did writing it.

He really had no idea why he was doing this. Well, he did, but explaining it was easier said than done. There was just this… strange compulsion; no matter what reasoning he used against it, he simply couldn't deny that this was something he had to do, or he would never forget it for as long as he lived. Put simply: he needed some sort of closure. A resolution. Something. He couldn't know what had happened to her and just pretend it didn't matter, pretend it wasn't directly relevant to his own life and past experiences.

And he had a few things to say to her on the subject that simply wouldn't leave him alone.

So, despite all of his inhibitions and doubts, he ventured to Murakami High School that afternoon, watching her leave with the crowd of her classmates as the final bell rang. He wasn't going to approach her now, of course. His appearance would stir up nothing but trouble, and it would be all too easy for her to slip into the throng of people if he attempted to talk to her.

Thus, he waited. Her walk home wasn't the time, either – her friends lived in the same neighborhood, it seemed. He wouldn't be able to get her alone, not now. Worry seeped into him as she stepped inside the house he could only assume was her home. For a moment, he wondered just what her story was: amnesia? Bad past?

Of course, that was taking into consideration that she did remember, and was just acting. Truth be told, he hadn't considered what he would do if she was indeed an innocent civilian with no part in any of this, or if she didn't remember anything…

Well, he wouldn't think about it. He'd cross that bridge when (and if) he came to it.

Which left him at square one. He couldn't just stakeout all night – he was already feeling guilty for being away from the team as it was. With a sigh, he realized he had only one option: to wait some more, and hope she liked moonlit walks.

Robin wasn't sure if she did this every night, or if he was just incredibly lucky, because she did indeed step outside the house as the sun was setting. She was clad in a simple gray t-shirt and jean shorts, along with a pair of hiking boots not unlike the ones he knew her to wear during her time with the Titans. It also struck him just how much more she looked like Terra now – the schoolgirl look just hadn't meshed with his image of her. But though something in her posture looked more relaxed, he couldn't help but notice how tense she was. He observed her wariness with interest, wondering why she was so apprehensive; it wasn't a bad neighborhood she was in, after all.

Or maybe she was just expecting something. Robin knew that after close encounters with Slade, expecting the unexpected – or downright paranoia – was practically second nature. And, of course, she wasn't entirely without reason: she had a determined Boy Wonder on her tail, after all. Reassuring himself he was not stalking her, he followed her soundlessly, going from rooftop to rooftop, remaining just behind her, his barely-used sneakers just barely squeaking as he moved.

It wasn't until a few blocks later that Robin realized where they were headed. His mouth formed into a hard line when he saw the block that had been slated for demolition months ago. The one containing the old library. As Robin continued his rooftop route, he could begin to see the mark of Scath that was still burned into the landscape. What was Terra doing coming here? She couldn't know about the entire ordeal with Trigon, could she? As far as they knew, she had still been a statue at the time. As he followed her into the area, he couldn't help but shudder. The feeling of downright spookiness and eerie desolation hadn't faded over time, that was for sure.

It didn't appear she was aware of what had occurred here. She passed the library without a second glance, instead continuing forward until she reached an old apartment complex. Without pausing, she walked through the door-less entrance, leaving Robin to wonder just what she was doing. When sharp footsteps broke the eerie silence, he assumed she was ascending the stairs. He debated whether or not he should follow her.

Curiosity won out. He descended from the roof of the building he was currently on, making he sure he landed quietly. Then, ensuring she wouldn't see him somehow, he followed her inside. He took much greater care going up than she had – his footfalls were light and barely audible.

Somehow, he knew where she was headed: the rooftop.

The threshold leading outside was also lacking a door, so Robin felt the breeze as he ascended. As he stood on the threshold, he took in the area. As expected, it was dirty and decrepit space. Yet, it looked… lived in, somehow. Soda cans, banana peels, and footprints in the layer of dirt littered the ground. Walls came up to about his knee along the edge of the building, and along the one just opposite him he could see a multitude of items: a pair of shattered goggles, what looked like strips of white tape topped with a familiar orange and black insignia, the remnants of… something (a box of some sort? there were mirror shards mixed in the pile), her old backpack and sleeping bag, and what he took to be her old clothes: a black cropped shirt, yellow shorts, and gloves. That particular pile was topped with a small, disk-shaped object: the cover of what used to be a Titans communicator.

All of this he took in within the span of a few moments, before he finally turned to the left, where a familiar figure was standing, looking out at the sunset, the last few rays of light finally beginning to disappear at this point. It was clear she hadn't sensed him. For a fleeting moment, Robin wondered just what he was going to say to her. Then he decided to just roll with his instincts.

"You know, Terra, what you're doing isn't much better than hiding. You don't think that's cowardly?"

She whirled, her face the epitome of shock. He saw her eyes flicker from him to the piles along the wall, then back to him. Then, seemed to gain her composure, she glared at him. "First of all, my name is not Terra – your crazy friend wouldn't leave me alone, even after I told him…" she rolled her eyes. "And I'm definitely not 'hiding' – I'm just trying to live my life, but you weirdo Titans won't leave me alone." She paused, and he watched her eyes dart to the other wall again. "And before you make any assumptions, that's not my stuff. It's always been here, ever since I found this place." Somehow, she made even that weak excuse sound acceptable.

But Robin knew better.

"Beast Boy wasn't tough enough on you," he said, sighing. "He doesn't understand."

"Understand what?" she almost spat.

"What it's like being Slade's apprentice," he answered simply. "It's a scarring experience, isn't it, Terra?"

For a split second, her hard expression faltered, before her composure returned before he even had time to blink. "I have no idea what you're talking about," she muttered.

She had stopped denying her name. It was a baby step, but a step forward all the same.

"I will admit, though," he continued, as though she had never said anything, "you certainly did far worse than I did. Attempting to kill people who were your friends, helping a madman take over an entire city, betrayal, real murder…"

Throughout his list, he saw her expression grow darker and darker. "This Terra chick sounds like a hell of a bad cookie," she stated blandly.

He smirked.

"Yeah, you were." That caught her off guard – she cringed, before replying:

"You're insane."

The smirk didn't drop. "I guess I am, aren't I?" He shook his head. "I don't think I can top you, though. To let a man like Slade control you so completely, make you believe the only people who cared about you would reject you?" He laughed. "You must have been dropped on your head when you were born or something." His expression changed from one of amusement to one of deep thought. "Or was it that you just lacked any sort of faith in yourself? That you believed you were a nothing, that you were only a tool for destruction, and caused nothing but trouble wherever you went? Or maybe – "

"Stop," she whispered. "Just, please: stop." Her fists were clenched and her eyes screwed shut, as though she could will all of those thoughts and memories away.

If only it were that simple. Robin had done that and more, but his experience wasn't something easily rid of. He could only imagine what sort of anguish Terra faced every day.

"No, Terra," a part of him wanted to stop – to spare this girl from any more pain, because it was clear that was all she wanted, "I can't. I didn't come here to unload to you everything you did wrong."

"Then why did you come?" she asked, her voice almost trembling. "And my name isn't Terra."

He smiled sadly at her weak denial. "I came to make sure you realized something."

"And what's that?"

He shrugged. "That's up to you." His smile faded, and when Terra looked at his face again, it was a hardened, blank mask. He drew himself up and out, making sure no sympathy showed through, that she could see no mercy.

"How did it feel, Terra, when the realization of just what you had done hit you?" he asked, his tone ice cold. He could almost see her repressing a shudder.

A part of him was disgusted at what he was doing: intentionally intimidating her, trying to use her fear to make her come clean. Another part (and he had a suspicion just whom that part originated from) urged him on.

"What did you feel when you realized you had taken Beast Boy's heart and stomped all over it?"

He could see her struggling. Her face was blank, but he could see her cracking at the edges. He knew those cracks – he fought to keep them sealed every day.

"Did you feel sick? Twisted?" he pushed on. "Did it feel like nothing would ever make up for every single mistake you made?"

When she looked back down at her feet, her knuckles white as she clenched her fists, Robin took a step forward. "Learning you've been tricked and deceived by a sadistic manipulator you thought was your mentor… it broke you, didn't it?"

And just like that, she shattered. She couldn't patch the cracks quickly enough, and he could only watch as she broke all over again in front of him, reliving everything in the span of a few moments. "Please," she whispered, biting her lip and turning away from his earnest expression. "Stop. Robin, I can't – "

By now, all Robin wanted to do was reach out to her like he wanted, but he swallowed the desire, telling himself he was almost there. "Can't what?" he asked harshly.

"I don't know!" she exclaimed, her hands shooting to her hair and clutching at her scalp. "God, Robin, I don't know what to do anymore!" She fell to her knees in front of him, her hands falling to the ground she looked at so intently now. "What do you want me to do?" her voice was just above a whisper.

He bent with her, bending so he was looking up into her blue eyes with his masked ones. It was with relief he spoke softly now: "I want you to realize that even though you've done terrible things, you are not irredeemable. I wasn't."

"Like you've ever needed redeeming," she murmured, wrapping her arms around herself, as though that would somehow keep all of her problems at bay.

He frowned and grasped at them, pulling until they came away from her body and his hands rested around her wrists. "You have no idea…" he murmured, looking at where his hands ended and her arms began. "You forget I was Slade's apprentice once, too."

"That was different," she protested.

"It was," he agreed. "But that doesn't mean I'm totally without blame. I was stupid, Terra. If I had more faith in the people who cared about me, if I didn't insist on doing everything myself and just trusted them…" He looked up at the sky for a moment. "Things wouldn't have turned out the way they did." He returned his gaze to her to see her sad expression facing him. "Now I have to live with it."

He swallowed before releasing a breath he hadn't known he was holding. "I just wish you didn't make the same mistake I did, Terra: losing faith in us. We never would have rejected you." Finally releasing her hands, he smiled, though it wasn't very happy. "I don't even have powers. You think we were going to turn you away just because you needed some practice?"

She clasped her hands in her lap, averting her eyes from his. "He made it so believable, Robin. I couldn't not listen to him. It just seemed right, and then when you said what you did that first time you offered me a spot on the team… I didn't know what to do."

Robin sighed. "I suppose I am partly to blame in all of this; if I hadn't said anything – "

Terra shook her head fiercely, suddenly grasping his wrist. He looked up in surprise, his eyebrows raised. "No, Robin. It was never your fault. I should have trusted Beast Boy when he said he hadn't told you. It was like you said: my faithlessness was what caused this entire mess."

He smiled. "Well, that's my job done," when he saw her puzzled expression, he went on. "You learned something."

"You were planning on this all along, weren't you?" she smiled softly, letting go of him.

He shrugged. "You could have learned any number of things, Terra. You could have learned I'm a relentless jerk – "

" – I wouldn't go that far – "

" – that Slade was a bastard – "

" – realized that awhile ago – "

" – or… that it was your own shortcomings that started all of this."

There was silence for a moment as Terra thought about this. "I think… I did know that." She sighed. "I just didn't want to face it."

"There's… one more thing you have to face," he started, almost regretful. "You are running from it all by doing this, Terra."

"How can I face this Robin?" she murmured, shaking her head. "What do I have to do? I know what I did was horrible, and now I have to live with it for the rest of my life…"

"Yes, you do," he said. "But that doesn't mean you can't get closure. It doesn't mean you have to let it consume who you are and rule your life. You can move on."

Terra looked up at him, tears in her eyes he wasn't expecting. "I know, Robin, but…" she bit her lip. "I just don't want to be hurt again. I can't be a hero, I'm too afraid of someone coming and ripping it all out from under me, or someone using me, or – "

"Terra." She stopped. "You can't expect to go through life and not be hurt, even if you continue on the road you're on now. So why not make the most of it? You can help people, Terra."

She shook her head. "I don't deserve to be called a hero, Robin."

He shrugged. "I know five people who would disagree with that – myself included."

"And I know hundreds who would agree," she shot back.

He smiled. "So?" he asked, and she looked up at him, eyebrows furrowed. "Prove them wrong. I've done it on more than one occasion – it's a pretty good feeling." He saw a corner of her mouth quirk upward, and that was the only cue he needed to continue. "You can still be a hero, Terra. I am." He stood and extended a hand down to her.

Terra held his eyes for a long time. Blue looking into – though she didn't know it – blue. After several moments, she looked down and sighed. "I'm sorry, Robin…" she murmured; he almost couldn't hear her. "But I can't make this decision. Not now." She denied Robin's offered hand and rose to her feet on her own.

Now it was his turn to look at her. Finally, he nodded. "I understand," he responded. "Just promise me you'll at least think about it."

"Promise." She nodded and turned, beginning to walk away. He was turning around himself when she spoke again. "Robin?"

He looked over his shoulder to see her looking at him with a small smile. "Yeah?"

"Thanks."

He smiled and nodded. "What else would a good friend do?"

He turned again before he could see her reaction.

And, of course, I have to end it on a light(er) note. =P One of these days I'm going to write a full-blown angst with no happy ending whatsoever… But a quick explanation regarding the roof: in the episode Terra, we saw her running out of the tower with her pack. Later, when Slade's watching her, she has no pack. She has to have dropped it off somewhere. And what would she have done with her second outfit with the Titans? The suit she had when she was with Slade? So, I gave her a place to crash in between her appearances. And the abandoned area of Jump suited my purposes. So yeah.

Okay, sorry to bore you, but I have more to say on this. Feel free to skip this in favor of hitting the review button. ;D

This was probably an end product of looking for Rob/Terra stuff on dA for a few hours. There wasn't much to find (it was rather discouraging, really), but I think it still had some effect on my head, seeing as I got the idea for this a few hours later. I wanted to do a Rob/Terra oneshot (not necessarily romance, even if it could be seen as such), and then I thought: "Well, gee, we never did see a post-Aftershock conversation between Terra and Robin, even though they would have had plenty to talk about. So, this is my take on how it could have gone.

The first bit where Robin's being tough on her was the part influenced by DBAinsw's Tough Love. This little ficlet pales in comparison to that story, but I like it well enough anyhow. I think I'm going to end up expanding this, if I ever get around to it. Probably from Terra's POV. That's pretty much it… a review or two would be nice.