Y/N's Pov

Aquaman's voice practically shook the hall. "What were you thinking, kid?"

I stood there, trying not to let the sting of his words show. My suit was a mess—grimy, with a few burnt patches clinging to my skin, and the cuts and bruises I'd racked up tonight were starting to ache. 

"Look," I started, my voice steady despite everything, "if you'll just let me explain, we—"

"Explain?" Green Lantern interrupted, crossing his arms, his tone dripping with irritation. "What's there to explain, Robin? You're supposed to be leading the Teen Titans, keeping Jump City safe, and yet the power plant still exploded." He shook his head like he was scolding a kid who'd broken something valuable. "No one was hurt, sure, but people are furious. Their entire city's out of power indefinitely, and they're blaming you."

The frustration rose in my chest, but I swallowed it down, forcing myself to keep a steady stance as I scanned the faces of the Justice League. All eyes were on me, judging, scrutinizing, and not one of them seemed willing to listen to what actually happened.

Then, in the tense silence, Batman's voice cut through, cool and composed. "Y/N..." he paused, locking eyes with me. "What happened?"

Flashback

Cyborg was exchanging blow after blow with Mammoth, but he was keeping the giant brute on his heels. Every time Mammoth swung, Cyborg dodged, countered, and hit hard with that cannon arm of his. I had to admit, I was proud of him.

"Boo-Yah!" He laughed as he uppercutted Mammoth making him stumble back.

On the other side of the room, Starfire had Seemore cornered. His goggles fired powerful energy beams, but Starfire was using her agility and strength to avoid the blasts, landing punch after punch when she could. She was relentless. 

Meanwhile, Raven was keeping Jinx at bay. Jinx tried to use her magic and explosions, but Raven's dark energy shield was impenetrable. Every time she got close, Raven sent a bolt of psychic power that pushed her back. It was a beautiful thing to watch.

And Beast Boy? He was everywhere. One moment he was a tiger, taking down one of Billy's clones. The next, he was a rhinoceros, plowing through the others with ease. He was doing what Beast Boy did best—improvising, creating chaos in the best way.

"Titans, we're almost there!" I shouted, seeing the Hive's forces beginning to weaken. But then it happened.

Out of nowhere, a massive shockwave rattled the room. Seemore managed to fire a shot that hit Starfire right in the chest, sending her flying back across the room. She crashed into a set of control panels, sparks flying everywhere. Cyborg yelled out in alarm as he saw her go down.

"Starfire!", turning his attention away from Mammoth. Mammoth took that moment to strike, landing a devastating punch right to Cyborg's side.

Raven, seeing the chaos unfold, tried to help, but Jinx kept her from helping him with a powerful blast that made her have to use a forcefield.

"Cyborg, stay focused!" I shouted, but Cyborg was already distracted, trying to get to Starfire.

Beast Boy, too, went over to try to help but was caught by Billy Numerous. One of Billy's clones grabbed Beast Boy mid-transformation, throwing him across the room. Billy couldn't help but laugh as he watched Beast Boy struggle to get back up.

"You can't even take care of your own team, Robin!" Billy yelled, mocking me. His words hit harder than any punch. My focus wavered. I didn't know if I could hold it together.

"Shut up, Billy!" I snapped, but the damage was done. There was tension in the air—doubt, anger, frustration. The team wasn't working together anymore.

Raven, sensing my weakness, looked at me, her expression unreadable. "Robin," she said, her voice colder than I expected. "What's happening? We're losing control."

"I know, Raven!" I shouted back, my patience thinning. "I'm trying!"

But then it was like everything exploded. Starfire wasn't the only one who was struggling. Cyborg was still fighting Mammoth but not as effectively. Raven's shield cracked under the pressure of Jinx's attacks. Beast Boy wasn't in his element, surrounded by a dozen clones of Billy. And me? I was standing there, watching it all unravel, and for some reason, I couldn't keep us together.

"What are you doing, Robin?!" Cyborg yelled, frustration pouring from his voice. "We're falling apart because you're not focused!"

"Me?!" I snapped, my fists clenched. "This is not just my fault, Cyborg!"

"I'm getting sick of you being in charge yo!, I can't...- Ahhh!!" Beast Boy shot back, barely able to hold his own against Billy's clones.

And that was it. The words were out there, the seed was planted. The infighting had begun. The Hive must've sensed it, because in that moment, they launched their counterattack.

Mammoth broke free from Cyborg's hold, charging toward the control room where the power plant's reactors were. Jinx took the opening and hit Raven with a blast so powerful that Raven's shield collapsed completely. Beast Boy was overwhelmed by Billy's clones, and Seemore was on his feet again, firing shots at anything that moved.

Gizmo, hovering on his jet pack, laughed from across the room. "Now, that's more like it!" he called out. "You've just made it so much easier for us!"

I couldn't believe it. We were on the verge of winning, but now we were losing—badly. Gizmo quickly dashed over to a console and started typing at a rapid pace. I knew exactly what he was doing, and I felt a wave of panic hit me.

The countdown on the reactor began.

"Robin, it's not over yet," Cyborg called out, trying to regain control. "We've got a chance to stop this! Don't give up!"

But I wasn't so sure anymore. I could see Gizmo in the distance, already preparing to set the charges for his final plan.

"You've got no chance, Robin!" Gizmo taunted as he slammed a button. The reactor's countdown clock flashed in front of me. "All the electricity in Jump City? Gone. And no one will ever know who's behind it."

"Don't let him finish that countdown!" I shouted to my team, but it was too late. The Hive had used our infighting against us. And now the whole city was at risk.

Gizmo's laughter echoed around the room as he turned to face me, his smug grin evident beneath his helmet.

"You were so close," he said. "But not close enough."

Flashback Ends.

I snap back to the present, blinking as the words from the Justice League crash into me. They're loud. Angry. Disappointed. And they're all directed at me. I stand there, trying not to show it, but it's hard. Really hard.

Superman—who's normally the calm, collected one—speaks first. His voice is firm but non-confrontational. "Robin, I understand the pressure you were under, but you need to learn from this mistake. You were rattled, and because of that, you didn't trust your team."

I take a deep breath. Trust my team? Isn't that what I've been trying to do? Every damn day, I've been trying to make the Teen Titans a team. But hearing it from Superman? Yeah, it stings. I didn't trust them. It's true, but I didn't know how to handle it anymore.

I don't say anything though. Just clench my jaw and keep my eyes on the floor. That's when Wonder Woman speaks up.

"You should've known better, Robin," she says, her voice calm but sharp, like she's cutting through me with a sword. "In the first place, one of you should have made sure the Hive wasn't able to damage the power plant. Instead, you all rushed in without a plan to stop them from escaping. And now look where we are. The damage is done."

I wince, and I can't help but mutter under my breath, "Yeah, thanks for the reminder." Of course, they wouldn't know how it felt to be stuck between trying to prove yourself and not wanting to lose everyone.

. Wonder Woman is right. We all rushed in. We thought we could handle it. But we didn't anticipate how quickly the Hive would turn the tables. And now... now Jump City is in darkness.

Aquaman—Aquaman, of all people—speaks next, his voice booming with anger. "If it was Aqualad leading the Titans, none of this would have happened."

Oh, here it comes.

I clench my fists. It's like I can feel the weight of every single mistake hanging over me, crushing me, suffocating me. I feel my teeth grind together. Every single word feels like a knife twisting in my gut. And this one—this one cuts the deepest.

If it was Aqualad.

What does that even mean? Aqualad is... Aqualad. He's always been the model leader. Calm, strategic, and perfect. Everyone's always comparing me to him, like I'm supposed to live up to some impossible standard. Like Aqualad's team never makes mistakes. It's so much easier to be the leader when everything goes perfectly, right?

But the truth? Aqualad's team? They're not perfect. They're just better at hiding their mistakes. Or maybe they've never had to carry the burden that I do.

I don't say anything. I can't. What do I even say to that?

I just stay silent, feeling like the floor might swallow me whole.

And then they keep going.

"You should have done better," Superman adds, his disappointment heavier than any punch I've ever taken. "A leader has to know when to trust their team, and when to take charge."

I know that. I know that. But sometimes... sometimes I don't know what to do anymore.

I start to feel like I'm suffocating under their words, and then the next one comes.

"You've let them down, Robin," Wonder Woman says, her gaze unwavering. "This isn't about being a hero. This is about leading them. And you failed."

I stand there, motionless, feeling like my entire world is crumbling down. The comments sting, but I've heard them all before. Every single one of them.

And it all leads back to Aqualad. The team, my team, his team—the one they keep comparing me to.

I don't know what hurts more: the words or the truth in them.

Aquaman's voice cuts through my thoughts once more. "If you can't even lead your own team, then what good are you, Robin?"

I don't answer. I just stand there. They think they know. They think they understand. But they don't. They don't understand what it's like to be the one everyone doubts. The one everyone expects to fail. The one who has to prove himself over and over again.

But that's the problem, right? I'm constantly trying to prove something. I shouldn't have to.

"I'm sorry," I mutter, more to myself than to anyone else. "I didn't mean for this to happen. I was just trying to do what's right."

There's a long silence.

"Sorry doesn't fix the damage, Robin," Aquaman growls, before turning away.

They're all disappointed in me, and I don't blame them. Hell, I'm disappointed in myself. But what else is there to say? What else is there to do?

The silence lingers for a moment, thick with tension. It's almost suffocating. Then Flash, of all people, lets out a heavy sigh, shaking his head as if he's reached some sort of conclusion. "Maybe you should just go back to being Batman's boy wonder sidekick in Gotham, huh?"

I feel the words hit me like a punch to the gut. Batman's boy wonder. The label I've been trying to shake ever since I left Gotham, trying to stand on my own as leader of the Titans. And here it is again. Flash's words sting more than I care to admit.

Green Lantern isn't far behind. "Maybe he's right," he chimes in, his voice dripping with skepticism. "Has the Teen Titans even done a single mission properly without the infighting? Maybe disbanding is for the best."

A cold, sick feeling settles in my stomach as Flash and Green Lantern laugh—genuinely laugh. At my expense. At our expense.

I try to bite my tongue, but it's hard. The words are swirling in my mind, a storm of frustration and anger. I glance at Batman, hoping—just hoping—that he'll say something. Defend me. But all I get is the same cold silence from beneath his cowl.

I look at him, eyes pleading behind my mask, but Batman doesn't budge. He doesn't defend me. He doesn't step in to protect me from the Justice League's barbs. It's just the same damn silence that's been there ever since I started trying to break free of his shadow.

The Justice League continues. "You couldn't even keep the team together. And now look where we are," Superman says, disappointment in every word. "Maybe you should have stayed in Gotham. You were never meant to lead."

Their words swirl around me, each one like a blow, each one telling me the same thing I've heard my whole life:

"You're not good enough."

I've heard it before. In Gotham. In Metropolis. From the other heroes, From the Titans. And now here, from the Justice League. You're not good enough. It echoes in my mind, louder and louder, until it drowns everything else out.

I want to scream. I want to throw something. Anything. But I just stand there, biting my tongue, swallowing the fire that's building up inside me. There's no point in arguing. What could I say? What could I do?

They've already decided what I am. What I'm not.

And I'm not good enough...Nobody ever gives me a fucking chance!

. . .

. . .

. . .

I stand there, in the meeting room of Titan's Tower, my back straight as I watch the news broadcast on the large TV screen mounted to the wall. The image of the burning power plant flickers before my eyes, smoke rising from the wreckage, the once-bustling city now suffering because of our failure.

The reporter's voice fills the room, the words like daggers. "The Teen Titans, supposed defenders of Jump City, failed to prevent the catastrophic explosion at the power plant, leaving several surrounding buildings damaged. The citizens are furious, and many are calling for the team to be disbanded. The question remains: can Jump City continue to rely on the Teen Titans?"

I swallow hard, fighting to keep my face neutral. But I can't. The fury, the shame—it all builds up inside me. I feel the heat rise in my chest, my head throbbing with the weight of their judgment. Failed to protect the city. Failed to stop the explosion. I don't need to hear it from the media. The worst part is, I'm starting to believe it.

The sound of Cyborg's fist hitting the control panel rips through the silence, and I turn to see him firing a plasma blast from his arm cannon at the wall, his anger visible in the tremors of his movements. He's barely holding it together.

"Are you seeing this, Robin?" he spits out, his voice shaking with rage. "We're supposed to be the heroes of this city! And now we're the damn villains! All because you couldn't keep it together!"

I don't respond. What could I say? That I failed? That it was my fault? That I was leading a team of people who weren't in sync? The thought of defending myself feels pointless. The truth hangs in the air, thick and suffocating.

Beast Boy, of all people, tries to interject, his voice attempting to calm the storm. "Cyborg, man, we all messed up, alright? It wasn't just Robin! It wasn't just one of us! This isn't on him alone!"

But Cyborg won't listen. His anger is too much. And frankly, I don't know if I deserve his forgiveness.

Raven, who's always so composed, shifts in her seat. This time, her usual aloofness is replaced by frustration, a rare expression on her face. She folds her arms across her chest, her eyes narrowing. "We all lost focus at some point. That's the truth. But blaming one person isn't going to fix anything."

Still, Cyborg isn't letting go. "But we should have been prepared, Raven!" he snaps, his voice a growl. "We should have made sure the plant was secure. If we'd been more careful, this wouldn't have happened. And you," he turns his glare toward me, "you were leading us. We trusted you, Robin. We trusted you!"

Starfire, usually the voice of optimism, looks at the tension with concern. She rises from her seat, stepping forward in an attempt to defuse the situation. "Please, friends, we must not let our tempers overtake us," she says in her gentle voice, her green eyes pleading for peace. "Perhaps it is not the fault of anyone but ourselves as a team."

Her words, as pure as they are, fall on deaf ears for the most part. Cyborg's fury doesn't lessen. "We let it happen, Starfire!" he snaps, his frustration now bleeding into the way he speaks to her. "It's not about being 'weak,' it's about losing focus when it mattered most. He lost focus."

Starfire flinches. I can see the guilt in her eyes. The doubt.

She's right to feel that way. We all are.

The room feels suffocating. The silence after Cyborg's words hangs in the air like a heavy fog, pressing against my chest, squeezing the air out of my lungs. My heart aches with the weight of their anger, their disappointment. And I deserve it. I failed them.

I take a deep breath, trying to steady my shaking hands. My fingers brush the edge of my mask. I've never taken it off in front of them. I've never shown them what's underneath. What's behind the mask. But I can't keep hiding anymore.

I slowly pull it off, revealing my face to them for the first time. The tension in the room is palpable, but I don't care. For the first time in ages, I just want to show them the pain I've been hiding—the hurt I've been carrying alone.

I meet each of their eyes, one by one. I can't even find the words at first. The guilt is too much, the weight of their expectations too heavy. But then, I just... let it out.

"I'm sorry," I whisper, my voice barely a whisper. "I... I didn't trust you. I didn't trust Starfire's strength when she offered to help. I didn't support Beast Boy—took his shapeshifting for granted. I didn't give Raven a chance to help us in the fight when she was trying to. I didn't provide the backup plan I should've had ready for us."

Each word feels like a cut. It hurts to say it, but I have to. They have to hear it. Because I can't keep hiding behind this mask anymore.

I swallow, forcing myself to look at them all. "Maybe Flash and the others were right," I say, my voice faltering slightly. "Maybe I'm just not good enough. Maybe I'm not cut out to lead."

I reach up and unfasten the "R" emblem from my suit, the one I've worn for years. I place it gently down on the table, the weight of the symbol symbolizing everything I've failed to live up to.

"I think we all need some time," I add, my voice quieter now. "Take a break. Reflect."

There's a pause, and for a brief moment, no one speaks. I don't know if they understand or if they even want to.

The elevator dings, interrupting the silence. I turn just as Alfred steps out, looking at me with that familiar, warm, concerned expression that I've always found comfort in.

"Master Y/N, the limousine is waiting," he says gently, his tone carrying a quiet understanding.

I nod. I don't need to explain. They don't need to know everything. I just need to... leave for a while.

I look back at the Titans, my team, one last time. "I'm going back to Gotham for a bit. I... I hope you'll forgive me, not just as your leader, but as your friend."

With that, I walk toward the elevator, leaving the emblem behind, as the door closes behind me. It's the first step of many I need to take.

Timeskip...

The Batcave is quiet, the hum of the Batcomputer the only sound breaking the oppressive silence that fills the cavernous space. I stand there, fuming, hands clenched into fists at my sides, glaring at the floor. My heart is still pounding, my mind replaying the moments in the Hall of Justice, those words slicing through me over and over again.

I can't hold it in anymore. I can't pretend like it doesn't hurt.

"Why didn't you defend me?" I demand, my voice shaking with barely controlled anger. "Why didn't you say anything? They were humiliating me, Bruce. The Justice League, the world's best heroes. My idols. And you just stood there."

Bruce doesn't flinch, doesn't rise to meet my anger. He just keeps typing, his focus on the Batcomputer, almost as if he's blocking me out. But I can't let it go. Not this time. Not after everything I've been through.

"Why?" I say again, quieter this time, my voice a mix of frustration and hurt. "Why didn't you help me?"

Bruce sighs deeply, the sound heavy with the weight of years of experience. He slowly turns to face me, the cowl now down, revealing the man I've always known—the stoic, impenetrable Batman. He doesn't say anything at first, his gaze studying me as if weighing my words.

"Y/N," he begins, his tone surprisingly soft, "their words, despite how hurtful they were, were the truth."

I blink, taken aback by his bluntness. My chest tightens, my fists clench tighter.

"I'm not saying it's easy," he continues, standing up from the Batcomputer and walking toward me, his footsteps steady, calculated, and measured. "But that moment—that humiliation—was something you had to take in order to grow. As a leader. As you."

I want to argue. I want to shout, tell him how much it hurt, how unfair it felt, how I wasn't ready for any of this. But Bruce isn't done.

"I can't always defend you, Y/N," he adds, his voice low but firm. "If I did, you wouldn't learn. I can't shield you from everything, not if I want you to grow. You have to learn how to stand on your own. You have to learn to take the blows, even when they come from the ones you respect. From your idols."

A bitter laugh escapes me, sharp and bitter, but I swallow it back quickly, not wanting to show weakness in front of him. But I can't help it.

"It's not just the Justice League, Bruce," I say, my voice cracking. The tears I've been holding back threaten to spill over. "It's everyone. Kid Flash, even Firestorm. They all look at me like I'm just the worthless leader. The one who can't do anything right. They see me as a joke."

Bruce's hand comes down on my shoulder, steady and reassuring. But I can't bring myself to look at him.

"You're not a joke, Y/N," Bruce says quietly. "You just haven't found your footing yet. You're still learning. And that's okay."

I bite my lip, trying to keep the tears at bay, but the pressure in my chest is too much. My shoulders shake, and I can't stop the tears from spilling over. I try to hide my face, turn away from him, but Bruce's grip tightens, gently pulling me back into his presence.

"I know it feels like the whole world is against you right now," he continues, his voice still steady. "But you can't let them define you. You need to define yourself. This is your journey, Y/N. Don't let the mistakes or the failures stop you from moving forward."

I shake my head, the weight of everything crashing down on me. I'm not strong enough. I'm not good enough. I've failed. And I'm scared that I'll never be what they expect me to be.

But Bruce, even in his quiet way, just stands there. His hand on my shoulder isn't just a comfort—it's a reminder. A reminder that I'm not alone in this.

"I'm here," he says, almost too quietly for me to hear. "And I always will be. You don't have to be perfect, Y/N. You just have to keep going."

I close my eyes, trying to steady myself, trying to breathe through the tightness in my chest. For the first time in a long time, I feel like there's a chance for me to do better. To be better.

"Thanks, Bruce," I whisper, barely able to speak the words through the lump in my throat.

Bruce doesn't say anything else, but I don't need him to. I can feel it in the strength of his presence. In the way he holds his ground, even when the world is crashing down around him.

Maybe I'm not perfect. Maybe I'll never be the leader everyone expects me to be. But that doesn't mean I'm done trying. And maybe, just maybe, I'll find my own way to be the hero I want to be.

"Thank You" I mumbled, as Bruce had already leaned in wrapping his arms around me in a gentle hug...not enough to lift the heavy weight on my shoulders, but enough to remind me that I'm not alone in this world.

To be continued. . .