Forgotten Bonds – Chapter Thirty

Chapter Thirty
Fracturing Innocence

February 16th, 2009. Sunday, 6:37 pm.

The boy was smiling. The boy was actually smiling. Slade raised an eyebrow as he stared at the young teen. It definitely wasn’t excitement. He just looked thoroughly happy; joyful, even. Slade couldn’t imagine what he had said to make the boy grin with such light like that. Especially since they were still at odds on the matter of killing.

But the boy’s face was literally lit up.

It perplexed Slade to no end. He would’ve understood the thrill of entering enemy territory; the thrill of fighting for your life in an endless struggle; the thrill of outsmarting your foes; the thrill of overpowering your foes with pure strength – but this positively glowing expression on Dick’s face was just not any of those.

It was like he was joyful beyond measure; beyond anything known to man – far more than what was fathomable to Slade.

That boy…

Slade shook his head. He truly was an odd kid. Slade just couldn’t imagine a stranger time to put on such a happy smile. The boy kept close to him, even nearly bumping into him at times when Slade stopped to listen and look around. It wasn’t that he wasn’t aware, it was almost as if the boy wanted to be as close to him as possible.

Such a strange child.

Slade peered around a corner carefully. The corridor was completely clear, but something wasn’t right. He could just feel it in the air. There was an inhuman stillness about it. These feelings were the honed instincts of a war torn warrior. He had learned all too well what lay before them.

There had to be an ambush ahead.

He felt the boy inch closer to him; their shoulders bumping at the closeness. Slade turned his head back to him and mouthed carefully ‘ambush’ to the boy. Dick nodded in understanding and his arm dropped behind his back – no doubt to grab his bō-staff.

Slade turned back to the hallway, taking a deep breath. He let a smirk lift his mouth.

Time to dominate these fools.

Slade bolted around the corner with Dick close behind him. Ten assassins fell from the rafters; each wielding dual blades. With lightning reflexes, Slade pulled out his own broadsword in his right hand and a gun in his left. Bullets were immediately fired into the group. Within those swift moments, he was able to take down one of them before they could do anything more.

Nine to go.

There was a small laughing sound from Dick, almost mischievous like, as he frog hopped over Slade’s back; flipping twice in the air before he landed a kick on one of the approaching assassins. The fight intensified. The boy withdrew his bō-staff and engaged the enemy. Slade was careful in firing his gun in the effort to avoid hitting Dick. Instead, he used the butt to smash into the hidden face of one of his opponents; swinging his sword to block two blows from a dual effort – there was a clang of metal, sparks flying in a metallic dance.

Slade caught a glimpse of Dick in the fight and he couldn’t hold back the smile that lifted his mouth behind his mask. The boy was doing superb. Absolutely superb. He was fierce as fought with opponents that were far more seasoned at this than he was. But he was still holding his own.

But he wasn’t flawless.

There was a brief moment where Slade could see an opening and one of the assassins saw it, too. The assassin darted forward, ready to stab the boy in the heart with his duel blades.

Slade overpowered the three that were around him; slashing through the three of them with a tremendous swing of his blade. There was a flash of metal as blades connected with blades. In the moment, Slade took the brief time to lift his gun and fired two shots. His aim was perfect as ever. The bullets connected with his target in the back of the head. The assassin fell a mere foot away from Dick, blood beginning to blanket the ground with its crimson color. Slade could see the momentary pain that flashed across the boy’s face at the fallen foe.

Eight left.

Slade wasn’t about to let these inferior assassins take down his boy. Dick was far too special, far too extraordinary to let him fall before such scum. Dick was his apprentice, his heir and he’d sooner be committed before he’d let anything happen to that boy.

The remaining foes were now more determined to bring Slade down. All eight raced forward towards him; ignoring Dick altogether. It was more than obvious to Slade that he was the target of this whole setup.

Good then. All the more reason to annihilate them.

As all eight were upon him, Slade could do nothing but smirk. This was sheer child’s play to him. His movements were fluid as he dodged every attack at lightning speed. His attacks brought down two others, completely unconscious, to the ground. Dick jumped into the fight a moment later and brought down another with a hard kick to the head.

As another assassin tried to take out Dick from behind, Slade shot him in the chest. Dick had barely managed to dodge out of the way and he was splattered with blood from the bullet. The boy looked sick for a moment, but pressed forward in the fight.

Seven to go.

The four remaining that were able to fight continued to wage a good battle, but Slade knew it was only a matter of time before he brought them down.

Dick leapt between two of the assassins and managed a double kick in the air – knocking both out with his powerful boots. Then, he landed on his hands before leaping back onto his feet, striking upward into the chin of another one. As he did so, Slade took the opportunity to take out the fourth with another gun shot. The boy was yet again splattered with blood.

Six more.

Slade rounded on the remaining one and quickly put an end to him with yet another shot. Five dead and five unconscious now. Dick looked over at Slade; his chest heaving heavily with his breathing. His face glistened with sweat and Slade could see quite a few splatters of blood on his cheeks, along with multiples of the crimson color splattering his suit.

Something churned inside Slade’s chest and he wasn’t quite sure what to make of it. That sight was burned into his mind and suddenly a wave of irritation flowed over Slade. But at what, he wasn’t sure. He chose to ignore it instead and quickly turned to those who were alive, but unconscious. He lifted his gun—

“Wait!” cried Dick.

But it was too late. With five swift pulls of the trigger, Slade shot each of them in the head. Satisfied that all foes were down, he pocketed the gun into its holster. He pulled out a black cloth from his utility belt and took a single swipe over his broadsword to clean it of blood, before returning the blade to its sheath. Then, Slade turned to look at Dick.

The boy looked positively crestfallen. His arm was outstretched as if to stop Slade. It slowly lowered to his side as he looked at the floor, which was quickly pooling with more fresh blood. The boy began to tremble.

“Yo–you didn’t have to…” murmured Dick. Slade sighed. The boy was still going on about that. It was obvious these people meant business. They were here to kill them. This wasn’t a stroll in the park – this was a battlefield, a warzone; just like Vietnam. Kill or be killed. It was extremely simple. There was no choice here – it was a battlefield.

“Twice, one of them tried to kill you,” said Slade. “Twice, I saved you.”

Dick seemed to fall at that. He looked so broken over the death of his enemies. Slade couldn’t comprehend it at all. Why feel sorrow over the death of someone who would’ve done everything in their power to bring you down with them? Why feel sorrow over enemies who would never feel the same at your death?

“But the ones who were unconscious…”

“Would’ve come after us upon waking. There’s no use in warring a battle twice,” said Slade, his tone stern. Dick curled an arm around his chest to rest his hand on his other arm. His breathing was quickening, almost to the point of hyperventilation. His face crinkled as he gasped for breath. His body trembled terribly as he stared at the pool of blood on the floor and the bodies of his enemies that were soaked in it.

Seeing the start of a breakdown, Slade quickly walked over to the boy and placed a firm hand on his shoulder; hoping to pull the boy out of it.

Instantly, Dick relaxed. He seemed to crumple beneath the touch. His breathing began to regulate and the trembling began to calm down. Dick’s clenched fists that hung at his sides were slowly loosening their tight grip. It always fascinated Slade when that happened. He wasn’t sure what was so comforting about his hand on the boy’s shoulder, but it always seemed to do the trick.

But the boy still seemed so… broken.

After a few moments, Dick began to wipe the blood off his face nervously; rubbing the skin so hard that Slade had to wonder if he’d do it until raw. The boy moved to his arm and began doing the same, almost frantically trying to get the blood off his suit. Signs of his breakdown reappearing began to flood over the boy’s expression as he tried desperately to get the blood off himself.

“It won’t come out right now,” said Slade in a low voice. Dick looked back up at him before his lips thinned as he tucked them inside his mouth nervously. The boy nodded lightly before he relaxed. His unfurled lips began to tremble slightly as he turned his head away from the direction of the bodies. His chest rose once as he let out a deep sigh, obviously trying to calm himself. Slade couldn’t get over how tender the boy looked; so soft, so fragile; so broken.

He looked so torn.

He looked so young.

He looked so vulnerable.

A terrible realization flooded through Slade; thoroughly overpowering in its wave. It completely shocked Slade. He almost reeled at the spot as the knowledge flooded through him like a torrent. It was so astonishing, so severe, so oppressive, so indomitable in its power that Slade was momentarily stunned at the spot. He wasn’t sure why he was coming to this conclusion. It just didn’t fit into his plans, but somehow he knew. He just knew – knew beyond anything he had ever known before.

Dick wouldn’t ever become an assassin.

The boy would never kill.

It was so apparent to Slade at that moment; all too overwhelming; all too astounding. He was all too sure that if he took off the boy’s mask, he’d see those innocent eyes staring back at him with pure pain and agony writhing through the crystal blue orbs. Dick would never become desensitized enough to kill without feeling. Time would not bring that to pass within the boy’s heart. It wasn’t that it was impossible, it was only that the boy’s soul was too pure, too beautiful for the taint of blood.

It was too terrible of a burden to place upon his heart – it would break him.

If Slade broke the boy, then he’d be left with a shell; one with no fire and spirit – just an empty shell capable of killing. Slade had plenty of those in his basement. What he had wanted was the perfect apprentice, the perfect partner to be at his side through situations like this; one who could think brilliantly.

Dick was the perfect apprentice. He just wasn’t a killer. He’d be one of those boys on the front lines who would go down in a moment in war. He would never be able to pull the trigger. Ultimately, the boy would always choose to sacrifice himself to save another.

That was just his nature.

There was no changing the innocence that the boy had. There was no crafting him into the perfect assassin, the perfect partner. Since he would not, could not kill, Dick would never become an assassin.

It just wouldn’t happen.

Slade did not want to break the boy. Somehow that seemed like the most heinous of sins and Slade found that he couldn’t bring himself to do it. He couldn’t break him, not after seeing what the boy was like during these past months. Dick was unique; he was exceptional. The spark of innocence in the boy’s eyes was too special to destroy. That innocence was just like Grant’s, just like Joey’s, just like Rose’s.

The innocence was too sacred to destroy.

“Let’s get moving,” said Slade quietly, squeezing the boy’s shoulder once, before moving away and continuing down the hallway. They needed to get out of here – quickly. For the first time, in a very long time, Slade felt the emotion of fear lick his insides. This was a dangerous battleground and he didn’t want the boy to have to deal with it any more. He just wasn’t made for the warfront.

Slade didn’t want to shatter the boy’s innocence.

It was thoroughly unsettling for Slade to feel this way. All his plans, all his current desires, all his everything unraveled before him and for a moment, he was immobile; unable to move forward. Everything seemed to shatter in his eyes. Everything that he had built the past nine years seemed forgetful; seemed almost wasteful, even. There was only one thing on his mind at that very moment. It fueled him; renewing his movement once again. The one thought, the one desire, the one need burned inside his very soul; everything realigning themselves.

Protect the boy.

“Stick close,” commanded Slade, but he didn’t really need to. Dick was nearly on top of him. The eagerness that he had displayed earlier had vanished, but he still seemed completely set on being as near to Slade as was humanly possible. Slade wasn’t sure what to make of that, but it was endearing to say the least. Dick was completely acting like a lost little puppy.

Hopefully a puppy that would bite his enemies, though.

Slade’s mind was speeding through data faster than a computer; both sides of his brain doing all it can to formulate a plan of escape. Normally, if he’d been by himself, he’d tear this place apart. But Dick was with him and his safety was now the top priority. Slade wasn’t going to mention that to him. Knowing Dick, he’d probably be insulted and think Slade didn’t have any faith in him. But that certainly wasn’t the case. Slade just didn’t want to lose him.

He couldn’t lose him.

“Where’s a sonic cannon when you need one?” muttered Slade under his breath. There was a sharp intake of breath behind him, before he heard Dick giggle.

“You’re asking for my friends to help? You’re slipping, Slade,” said Dick, mischief emanating from his tone.

“Just because we’re in enemy territory doesn’t mean I won’t tan your hide,” snapped Slade, but not with any real vehemence. Dick seemed to understand this and there was yet another giggle. Slade managed to roll his eye without growling and motioned for Dick to follow.

“Hey, Slade; what if we go up?” asked Dick. Slade glanced upwards into the rafters, studying them for a moment. Yes, a vertical route was an excellent idea. The changing corridors might not apply to the higher area.

“Good suggestion, Apprentice,” said Slade, patting the boy on the arm. Dick glowed at the praise – almost like a light bulb. Slade smirked beneath his mask. He knelt down on the ground and proffered his hands as a boost.

“You first,” said Slade. Dick complied instantly and stepped onto Slade’s clasped hands. Then, using some of his strength, Slade jerked his hands upward and sent the nimble boy upward into the rafters. Dick somersaulted in the air before landing in a crouch on one of the hanging rafters.

Slade detached one of his grappling hooks from his utility belt and shot it upward. Once it caught hold of a rafter, Slade tested its strength before carefully climbing up the wall. Within a few moments, he was in the rafters with Dick.

“There’s a vent over there,” said Dick, pointing to a semi medium sized vent. Slade stared at the entrance of it dubiously.

“Like I could fit in that,” drawled Slade.

“I don’t think you’re fat,” said Dick with a mischievous grin. Slade couldn’t hold back the snort and he shook his head.

“How on earth can you joke at a time like this, boy?”

Dick grinned even wider. “C’mon, Slade. Don’t you know me? I’m always the one to come up with the poor puns that make everybody groan internally, but are just too chicken to tell me to shut up.”

“Let’s get out of here and I’ll get you a joke book.”

Dick let out a small laugh. Then, he turned his gaze upward, studying the rafters. Slade did the same thing and within a moment, he caught sight of a way out. He motioned to Dick and sent his grappling hook towards another rafter near the upper level. There was a stream of light coming through as if in the shape of a closed window or door. The climb to the opening wasn’t that hard and Dick followed Slade carefully. Soon, both were on the upper level of the rafters.

Slade inched along the current rafter to the door and noticed it was a window like opening. With a swift twist, he smashed his leg into the window. His steel boot crushed the door and the force of his blow caused it to burst to the side open. Slade stepped forward as he looked carefully out. The darkness of the nighttime shone through the opening. The moon was bright and low, lighting the darkness, however. Slade could see that this was an opening to the roof.

Slade couldn’t stop the relief that began to flow over him. He tried to squash it back down, though. They weren’t out of the woods yet. Once they got back home – then, Slade could breathe a cleansing sigh of relief.

Not that he’d tell anyone about it, though.

Dick followed him as he stepped out; however, suddenly the door slammed behind them. Slade whirled around to see two more assassins waiting for them. He glanced back and saw one more behind them. Slade seriously wanted to let out a curse. Yet more assassins waiting in ambush. With a fierce, feral growl, Slade twisted his body into a dominating kick. Slade felt something crack from beneath his blow as it connected with his target, blasting the enemy aside with terrible force to bounce off the roof.

Slade turned his wrath onto the other assassin. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Dick fighting the other assassin. Turning all his attention on the enemy before him, he barreled forward. The fight was intense and fierce. Slade could tell this assassin was far more skilled than the others. But it didn’t matter. This one would also go down like a fly. In the fight, Slade grabbed his gun out of its holster and smashed the butt into the shoulder of his opponent. There was a brief pause in the fight and Slade took that tiny window; taking the assassin out with one bullet to the head.

“Slade!”

Dick’s scream made him turn around—But then, it happened too fast – Slade didn’t have time to react. Shots blasted through the air and bullets pierced his chest instantly. Pain seared through his body moments after. He felt the bullets embed into vital areas of his chest and knew full well it’d take some time for the wounds to heal – greatly obstructing his abilities for some time.

Slade swore mentally. He should’ve been paying better attention. How stupid, stupid! His eye caught a glance at Dick before he fell backwards from the blast and everything seemed to die inside his heart. The boy was going to get killed now. He wouldn’t be able to protect that boy now. It would be all his fault. Blast it. Blast it. He didn’t… He didn’t want… Not again…

No!

Another bullet pierced his chest and this time Slade felt it drive directly into his heart. No! Blackness was over his vision before he landed on the ground; terrible regret and self hatred pouring through him as his final feelings.

ooOOOOOoo

February 16th, 2009. Sunday, 8:43 pm.

“Slade!” screamed Dick. He watched in horror as three bullets struck the man’s chest. It easily pierced the suit like it was butter. Dick saw the man’s eye glance at him. What was filled in that grey blue eye of his? Was that remorse, regret? Dick wasn’t sure because it was then that another shot blasted through the air and caught Slade directly in the heart.

The man fell backwards onto his back.

Dick bolted. He ran as fast as he could to the man’s side; completely ignoring the fact that he was supposed to be fighting someone. He stopped suddenly as he reached the man; skidding to a halt. Dick dropped to his knees in total shock, his entire body trembling uncontrollably. The man’s chest wasn’t lifting up and down. There was no movement at all.

Dick quickly grabbed the man’s wrist, ripping the glove from off the man’s hand; his fingers scrambling to find a pulse.

There wasn’t any.

Dick’s breathing began to quicken as he gasped for breath. He dropped the man’s wrist; shock flooding through him, completely overwhelming every particle of his soul.

Slade was dead.

The man was dead.

Dick was used to death – more than any other fourteen year old was or should be. He had seen enough in Gotham City with Batman to know and understand death. Gotham was ravaged with all sorts of horrific deaths and murders.

Even at seven years old, Dick knew death all too well.

He also had just watched this man shoot down people like they were flies. That he wasn’t used to. He had never ever watched someone kill like that before. It affected him terribly. There had been times he wanted to collapse and stop. He didn’t want to hear the shots and see the blood that followed any more. But he had known to keep going, to keep fighting for his life.

Slade had been right.

These men hadn’t been like anything Dick had come across before. He had never fought against such skilled people who were trained to end his life like it was worth so little. Slade had been right. This was dangerous; this was scary; this was frightening beyond anything Dick had ever faced before – but since Slade had been with him, he knew everything would turn out all right.

Slade had protected him and had saved his life, numerous times in fact. But everything hadn’t turned out all right. Everything was horribly wrong. The man was dead. The man that had protected him was dead.

Dick knew he shouldn’t be so affected by it. After all, the man that had held him captive for so many months was dead – Dick was free now. Hadn’t he dreamed of the moment when he’d be free? He was free of his captor—but was Slade really his captor any more? But what was there to do now?

He… could go home now.

Home…

But where was home? Was it back in Titans Tower? Could he really go back after all that he had experienced these past months? What if his friends didn’t trust him any more? What about Wintergreen?

As if he could go back to Bruce…

In reality, he wasn’t prepared for the crushing weight of despair on his chest as he watched Slade lying in his own blood. He hadn’t fully realized it before, but he knew now beyond a shadow of a doubt.

He didn’t want Slade to die.

The tormenting feelings that crashed through Dick were exactly the same as when he had seen his parents fall to their deaths. Had he truly become so dependent on Slade that he would classify the man with them?

That’s what it seemed.

A gun cocked and Dick lifted his head. A gun barrel was pointing directly at his forehead. The gun was of high caliber and one Dick knew was a powerful weapon that could pierce any armor. The assassin that had killed Slade was standing over him on the other side of the man’s body.

“You Deathstroke’s apprentice?”

Dick didn’t answer. His eyes were wide and locked onto the void of the gun, staring deep into its black depths. His heart pounded rapidly against his chest, sweat beginning to form on his skin.

It was a gun.

It was pointed at him.

He was gonna die.

“Sorry, kid. But you gotta go, too. I’ll let you see your master real soon. Shouldn’t hurt a bit.”

A sudden burst of adrenaline flooded through Dick’s veins. Fury and hate beyond anything he had ever felt rushed through him. The gun blasted, but Dick had rolled out of the bullet’s path. With a roar of rage, Dick leapt at the assassin, grabbing the wrist that held the gun and jabbing his elbow sharply into the man’s chest. Dick snapped the man’s wrist, feeling bones break within his hold; causing the man to drop the gun with a grunt of surprise and pain. Dick spun his leg around with terrible force and smashed it into the man’s side.

The assassin flew to the side, rolling against the ground to smash into the siding of the roof. Dick grabbed the gun and pointed it at the assassin, his heart palpitating furiously.

He cocked the gun.

It would be so easy to kill this guy. Just one bullet – that’s all it would take; just one bullet. Dick had been taught by the best, after all – those months of training by the man that laid at his feet. Besides, this demon deserved it. He had taken away an important person in Dick’s life – someone he had grown to care for; despite the obvious faults he’d had. The sorrow and grief were overpowering. It didn’t matter who Slade was or had been, Dick had seen the human side of the man and grew to understand him. Grew to even… Grew to even…

His grip began to tremble slightly. His chest heaved up and down in deep shaking breaths. Was he going to do it? Shoot the man that had taken Slade away from him?

He wanted to; oh, how he wanted to. But there was a section of his soul that couldn’t. No matter what this assassin did, Dick couldn’t kill him… Right?

But still…

The pain was so horrible – Dick’s heart couldn’t take it. It was so unfair. What did he do to deserve this? Why did the people he cared about always have to be taken away from him? Was he just not a good person? Did he just not deserve to have a happy life? Was he just that bad? Was he so terrible that all the heavens were combined against him?

What had he done wrong?!

Something seemed to touch his trembling hand.

But nothing was there.

It was soft, warm, and tender. It slipped beside him, another touch on his shoulder. A soft weight leaned against his back, a gentle whispering fluttering over his ear. A familiar lilting, trilling voice rose inside Dick’s mind.

“Don’t, my little robin. Don’t kill him.”

Dick’s breath caught in his throat.

“Killing him will not bring back Slade. Remember what I said? Every life is precious. Just as you grew to care and love Slade like a father because you saw the goodness in the man’s soul; remember that everyone has a spark of good within their hearts. You need only to light it and it will burn away the brittle brush of the darkness, spreading the light all throughout one’s heart. So, please, my little robin. Don’t kill him.”

The touch faded away as soon as the last word spoke from his mother’s voice. But the warmth that those words had brought didn’t fade. It felt as if his entire soul was on fire, yet the warmth wasn’t overbearing in its heat. Every particle of his body was flooded with that warmth; seeping through every section of his body – radiating it with life. Dick’s eyes burned at potential tears with the force of the warmth and his sorrow.

Dick knew he must be going insane if he was hearing his dead mother’s voice. But a part of him understood. That warmth wasn’t something he had ever felt before – it was not humanly possible; defying all imagination.

And she was right.

She was always right.

Slade was dead. Killing his murderer wouldn’t bring him back. He was gone for good. No one can bring back the dead – Dick knew that all too well. No matter his hatred for someone else, Dick just couldn’t bring himself to pull the trigger. No matter how much Slade had taught him, Dick knew now that no matter what, no matter how many precious people died, Dick could never bring himself to take the life of another.

Dick lowered the gun.

“Leave,” said Dick in a low tone, trying his hardest not to allow his voice to crack under his burden. “Leave and I’ll let you live. Otherwise, I’ll kill you.”

The assassin stood up slowly, cradling his broken wrist and eyeing the gun in Dick’s hand carefully.

“You would’ve already pulled the trigger if you were planning on killing me,” said the assassin offhandedly. Dick lifted the gun and pointed it at the assassin’s face. The assassin stiffened.

“I still can. Leave if you value your life,” said Dick, his tone terribly sinister. It was taking all his self control to hold back the wave of emotion that threatened to break forth at any moment. Each second was painful. He just wanted the assassin to leave him alone; leave him in the confusing grief that he was feeling over Slade’s death.

The assassin shrugged. “Fine then. I’ve done my job, anyway. Nobody said anything about picking off an apprentice. They only wanted Deathstroke. You’re lucky today, kid. Chao.”

The assassin turned and leapt off the roof, landing on the next building. Dick watched him disappear into the night. He stood there, waiting for a few minutes. Then, he carefully removed the bullets from the gun and tossed them aside. The gun slipped out of his hand, clattering to the ground. He turned to where Slade lay. Each step felt like heavy lead as he walked to Slade’s body.

Dick dropped to his knees, sitting back on his ankles. A single sob racked through Dick’s chest. He couldn’t understand the emotions that were pouring through his heart. He never thought he’d be sad over Slade’s death – but that’s what he was. Terribly, horrifically heartbroken over his death. He was terrified of being left behind again. His parents’ deaths had left a void in Dick’s heart – a void of desolation.

Alone.

He had been left behind again to witness a death of someone he cared about.

Oh, why did he have to care about this man?

Tears began to stream from his eyes into the material of his mask as he tried to hold back the heart wrenching sobs that were bursting at his chest. He swallowed the lump in his throat. With trembling hands, Dick reached to the man’s mask and carefully pulled it off. In the rising moonlight, Dick could see Slade’s unmoving face was ashen, whitened as darkened snowfall. The man’s expression seemed to be in such pain.

How much did it hurt?

Dick knew how much bullet wounds hurt. They were horrible, pain beyond what was logical to man. Slade’s face bore witness to such terrible pain.

And it was Dick’s fault.

“I’m sorry…” murmured Dick as he stared down at the man’s face. “I’m so sorry. I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t kill him even after he killed you. I’m a… failure as your apprentice.”

And with those words, the dam of sobs broke.

Dick lowered his head; placing folded arms on Slade’s chest and resting his head against the firm, yet lifeless flesh. He sobbed miserably. His tears soaked into his mask, slipping down the bridge of his nose to fall onto Slade’s uniform. He lifted his head up for a brief moment to rip the mask off his face before dropping his head back down; his tears unobstructed now.

He had failed.

He was a complete failure at everything. He had failed Bruce, he had failed the Teen Titans, and now he had even failed Slade – who lost his life because of Dick’s foolishness. Bruce hadn’t wanted him after getting shot by the Joker. He had broken the Teen Titans’ trust after playing the part of Red X. He was truly better off as a loner – better off alone.

Alone.

Utterly left alone.

Dick buried his head into the man’s chest, trying to stop the horrible sobs that seemed to stem from deep within his heart. His shoulders racked tremendously, his body shaking with every tremor. He didn’t care that he was getting yet more blood on himself; Slade’s blood. He could only cry over the death. He hated death – more than anything in the world. It left a terrible void of loneliness.

His heart felt torn in half; shattered into infinite pieces.

He never got to say anything to the man. It was too late now. When had Slade become someone that he depended so much upon? How foolish was that? This man had stolen him away. How could he come to care about a man like that?

But there had been so many soft moments. There had been so many times where life truly seemed normal to Dick. It had been so different than his time with Bruce or the Teen Titans. Sure, there had been a lot of schooling and education in the way the man wanted, but there was also something so much more.

Dare he say… a family?

But now it was destroyed beyond repair. There was no restoring what was lost. There was yet another void inside Dick’s heart – left by the death of Slade. How utterly bizarre and remarkable was that?

Would he ever be able to recover now?

The sobs intensified; the shuddering intensified; the racked shoulders intensified; the tears never ending. He rubbed his forehead against the man’s chest, unable to stop the flow of tears that were determined to soak into the Kevlar suit beneath him.

Something hard pushed up against Dick’s forehead. It was slow at first, but then it pushed harder; forcing its way up. Dick lifted his head to see a crimson stained bullet. Frowning, Dick picked it up to inspect the bullet.

It was definitely a bullet – a used one at that.

Dick’s eyes began to sweep over Slade’s body. Three other bullets in the man’s chest appeared. Puzzled, Dick moved one of the bullets to see the wound through the hole in the man’s Kevlar suit.

There wasn’t one.

A visible shudder ran through Slade’s entire body and then, a long groan. Dick sat frozen, his eyes wide. Slade’s chest was rising with his breathing. His head was moving slightly as another groan rumbled his throat. Then, came a long sigh.

“Didn’t see that coming… Oh, blast it. I really hate when that happens,” murmured Slade, sounding extremely hoarse. Dick sucked in his breath in pure shock.

Slade was alive.

The man wasn’t dead.

“Slade…? How…” croaked Dick softly, his voice cracking and trembling. “I watched you… Stopped breathing… How is…”

“Mmm? Oh, Dick…” Slade’s voice sounded groggy.

The man’s head turned to look at him. Dick sucked in his breath as he saw the man’s eye color. It was different than normal; a violet red with a darkness that seemed to be filled with a terrible, never ending void. There was something so frightening about it that Dick found himself completely stilled.

But then, Slade closed his eye, clenching it shut for a moment before it slid open; narrowing, as if trying to focus on him. Dick saw the steel grey blue of Slade’s eye; all darkness that was once there within that foreign color gone completely. The color in his face quickly washed over back to its original fleshy tones.

“You’re still alive… He didn’t kill you, then?”

Dick shook his head lightly and rapidly; his eyes wide as he stared at Slade – shock still flowing through him.

“Oh… Good. I–I thought he might kill you, too,” said Slade; his voice still sounding weakened. He let out another groan and put a hand to his forehead.

He was alive; Slade was alive.

“I let him get away,” whispered Dick, his voice trembling. His heart was pumping rapidly as he watched the man’s chest lifting in his constant breathing. Slade was alive. “I could’ve killed him. But I let him go.”

“Is that so? You let my killer get away?” said Slade weakly, sounding slightly amused.

“Yes,” whispered Dick even softer, lowering his head. “I’m sorry. I—”

Dick took a deep gasp of breath. He lowered his head down; resting his forehead against Slade’s chest. He could feel the rising and falling of the man’s breathing. He could hear the man’s heartbeat and even feel it against his skin.

Slade was alive.

What a beautiful sound.

Dick rubbed his forehead against the Kevlar material. Silent tears continued to stream from his eyes. He wondered vaguely what Slade would think if he found out Dick had cried—sobbed over his death.

“Dick?”

“Tired,” murmured Dick in reply, hoping to excuse his action of hiding his face. “I… I failed as your apprentice. I couldn’t kill him.”

“Oh, that.” Slade sighed; Dick could feel the tremble beneath his forehead. “I don’t expect less of you.”

Dick’s eyes widened and he lifted up to stare into Slade’s visible eye.

“But I—”

“You’ve grown quite a bit these past few months,” said Slade in a soft voice, overriding Dick. “Some things take a bit longer. I don’t expect you to progress overnight – that’s unreasonable. Besides, I don’t see why you’d kill him anyway when you—” Slade stopped suddenly, his eye narrowing as he studied Dick. There was a sharp intake of breath.

“Dick, have you been crying?” asked Slade in a disbelieving tone. Dick didn’t even bother to wipe away the moisture from his thoroughly tear stained face. He knew there was no hiding it now. Dick looked down and nodded slightly. Slade’s eye widened. There was a long quiet moment between them.

Then, Slade chuckled hoarsely.

“You’ll never be rid of me, Dick,” said Slade. His voice was soft and gentle – so uncharacteristic from the man’s normal tone. “Because, I’m immortal.”

Dick’s eyes widened in shock. Immortal? Was that even possible? But if Slade had told him beforehand that he would come back from the dead, Dick would’ve laughed in the man’s face. Now he was terribly aware of the truth.

“Immortal?” gasped Dick softly. Slade nodded.

“No matter how many times I’m killed,” started Slade, his voice still hoarse. “My soul just won’t cross the threshold of the afterlife.” There was a sharp exhaling chuckle. “Makes me wonder if I’m not welcome. I withheld this information from you. I guess I shouldn’t have. It’s the final enhancement, you could say.”

So, Slade had died before and came back? Then, that meant…

The man would never die. The man would never leave. He couldn’t leave Dick behind. The man would never leave him behind. A wave of sudden relief poured through Dick. It brought even more tears; the new wave streaming down his face in a deep fold. He didn’t bother to hide them. He was too overcome by everything. He just couldn’t care about the tears at that moment.

Slade would never leave him.

Slade looked completely startled at Dick’s further tears.

“Dick, what on earth is wrong?”

Dick vigorously shook his head. There was just no way he could tell the man what was going through his mind. Slade wouldn’t understand. It wasn’t like Dick fully understood it either. But it didn’t matter. All that mattered at that moment was the fact that this man wouldn’t—couldn’t abandon him in death.

“I wanna go home,” choked Dick, roughly wiping the tears away from his cheeks with the palm of his hand. There was a low sigh from Slade.

“Dick… listen—”

“Come on, let’s go home already,” said Dick, his voice breaking once as he tugged on the man’s arm. “I’ll help you up.”

Slade’s eye widened; his mouth dropping open for a moment, before he closed it. He nodded and began the difficult process of sitting up with Dick’s help. Finally, with one arm around Dick’s shoulders for support, he was able to stand up all the way.

“You are the strangest child,” murmured Slade with a small disbelieving shake of his head. Dick didn’t answer to that; admitting to himself that the man was probably very right.

ooOOOOOoo

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