Daylight - Robin

One thing no one mentions (unsurprisingly) is that Day-oriented fae have a hard time adjusting to the rhythms of hunter life.
It’s not like a lot of fae are hunters to begin with, and even fewer are Seelie and other Day types. The occasional other fae Robin’s met on the job have been almost all Night fae. Which makes sense. Their powers are naturally strongest in the hours when vampires are most active.
It took over a year for Robin’s circadian rhythms to switch over when he first started the job. And apparently, healing from getting kidnapped and used as an unwilling host completely reset the system.
Which is why he’s sitting on the deck at half-past-eleven in the morning with a mug of chamomile tea, a blanket wrapped around his shoulders, and absolutely no inclination to go to bed.
He’s considered trying something stronger to knock himself out, but he can’t stomach valerian anymore and besides, even if he could, he’d end up trapping himself in nightmares and be unable to wake up. Which is the last thing he needs right now.
He takes another sip from his mug and strokes the tabby cat curled up by his side. Octavia purrs, patting his hand lazily with one paw, then changes her attention to the tail his recuperating gophersnake is twitching in her general vicinity.
Ruby whips her tail away from the offending paw and curls up tighter on Robin’s lap, flicking her tongue. He rubs a finger over her head and checks the spot where she was caught in fence wire. The scales are roughed up and scarred, but hopefully once she sheds her skin she’ll be alright. He was glad he found her struggling on the edge of the vacant lot before she got dehydrated or something else came along and attacked her.
He has nothing against the cycle of hunters and hunted, but he hates to see an unfair fight.
Ruby settles, and Robin takes another sip of his cooling tea and glances at the few tiny flowers floating on the surface.
He feels warm and safe and happy here, surrounded by his animals and his home. So why can’t he just sleep?
He carries Ruby inside, sets her down in her basket, and steps into his bedroom.
He curls into the bed, wondering if the voices in his head will ever stop. If he’ll ever be able to close his eyes without wondering if when he opens them he’ll be a monster. He still doesn’t remember what he did under Arion’s control. He doesn’t think he wants to.
He tries to remember what Cody and John and Kira told him. What happened doesn’t make him a monster. He’s more than what he was manipulated and forced into doing.
He just wishes it was easier to believe.
It’s hard when the host fangs he’ll never be rid of press against his lips. When the withdrawals, fewer and further between now, but still painful, hit. When his body still craves the taste of blood.
He curls up under the blanket and tries to shut off the thoughts.
Something brushes gently across his hair, and he reaches up to feel one of the Rowan’s branches. Leaves tickle his cheek as they brush away wayward strands. Robin leans into the gentle touch, listening to the leaves whisper against each other. When he closes his eyes again it almost sounds like Mom’s voice, telling him it’s okay, he can close his eyes. Singing him to sleep.
When he opens them again, the sky is darkening. And it’s time to go to work.