Chapter Text
The tower was too quiet.
That was the first thing Robin noticed.
No laughter from Beast Boy. No music from Cyborg. No quiet hum of Raven’s meditation. Just silence—thick, heavy, pressing against his ears like something alive.
Robin stood in the hallway, shoulders tense, breath uneven beneath his mask.
He told himself it was nothing.
He told himself he was fine.
He told himself—
A shadow moved.
His heart spiked.
Suddenly he wasn’t in the tower anymore.
He was back there.
Cold metal. Restraints. Laughter—too sharp, too familiar. A voice that knew exactly how to break him.
Robin staggered backward, hand flying to his head.
“No—no, not again—”
His breathing shattered into short, panicked gasps. His control—his carefully built walls—started to crack.
“Robin?”
The voice was soft. Warm. Real.
Starfire.
He didn’t turn around.
“I’m fine,” he snapped, too fast, too sharp. “Go back to your room.”
But his voice shook.
And Starfire noticed everything.
She stepped closer, gently, like approaching something fragile.
“You are not ‘fine,’” she said softly. “Your voice is doing the trembling.”
“I said I’m—” His words broke.
The world tilted again. The shadows stretched.
Robin’s hands curled into fists. “I don’t need help.”
That was the rule.
Always the rule.
Leaders didn’t fall apart.
Leaders didn’t—
His breath hitched. A small, broken sound slipped out before he could stop it.
Starfire’s expression changed instantly.
Soft → protective.
Gentle → fierce.
“Robin,” she said, firmer now, stepping into his space. “You are in pain.”
“I’m not—” His voice cracked again, thinner this time.
He hated it.
Hated the way it sounded smaller.
“You may not push me away when you are hurting,” Starfire continued, her tone gaining that unmistakable Mama-bear edge. “That is not acceptable.”
Robin let out a shaky breath, trying to steady himself.
“I can handle it,” he whispered.
But even he didn’t believe it anymore.
Another flicker of memory—another echo of that voice—
And suddenly—
He wasn’t standing anymore.
His knees hit the floor.
Hard.
The fight drained out of him all at once, like someone had pulled the plug.
“No no no—” he whispered, shaking his head, hands coming up like he could block it out. “I don’t wanna— I don’t—”
Starfire was there instantly.
She dropped beside him, not touching him yet—just there, steady and grounding.
“You are safe,” she said firmly. “You are in the Tower. No one will harm you here.”
Robin curled in on himself, breathing uneven, eyes wide and unfocused.
“I can’t— I can’t stop it—”
His voice had changed.
Smaller.
Younger.
The shift hit Starfire immediately.
Her heart clenched—but her voice stayed calm, warm, steady.
“Yes, you can,” she said gently. “And I will help you.”
She slowly reached out, giving him time to pull away.
He didn’t.
That was all the permission she needed.
She pulled him into her arms.
Robin stiffened at first—instinct, resistance—but he didn’t fight.
Not really.
“I’ve got you,” she murmured, cradling him carefully. “You do not have to be strong right now.”
“I have to—” he whispered weakly.
“No.”
The word was soft—but absolute.
“You do not.”
His hands clutched at her uniform, grip tight and desperate.
“I don’t wanna go back there,” he said, voice trembling, slipping further. “Please—”
“You will not,” Starfire promised immediately. “I will not allow it.”
That fierce edge again.
Protective. Unyielding.
Robin let out a small, broken sob.
And that was it.
The last of the resistance shattered.
He buried his face against her shoulder, shaking as the tears finally came—quiet at first, then stronger, heavier.
Starfire held him closer, one hand gently carding through his hair.
“It is alright,” she whispered. “You may cry. I am here.”
His breathing hitched, uneven, childlike now.
“Stay,” he mumbled.
“I will always stay.”
She rocked him slightly, slow and soothing.
Minutes passed.
Or maybe longer.
Eventually, the shaking eased—but he didn’t let go.
Didn’t want to.
Starfire shifted carefully, lifting him into her arms fully.
He didn’t protest.
Didn’t even seem to notice.
His head rested against her shoulder, eyes half-lidded, exhausted.
Small.
“You are very brave,” she murmured as she carried him down the hall.
A quiet pause.
Then, softly—
“But you do not have to be brave all the time.”
Robin made a faint sound, something between a sigh and a whimper, curling closer.
Starfire tightened her hold just a little.
Protective.
Certain.
No one would hurt him tonight.
Not while she was here.