Forgotten Bonds – Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Four
A Shadow of a Need

January 23rd, 2009. Friday, 8:00 am.

Breakfast was a little later that morning. Wintergreen insisted that they wait for Slade, so wait they did. Dick didn’t think anything of it, but when Slade entered the kitchen, Dick noticed a major difference.

“Where are you going?” asked Dick automatically, staring at the change of clothing. While Slade normally wore every day black slacks and a button up collar shirt – except when sparring – this morning he was wearing his grey, armored Kevlar suit. What was going on?

“Contract,” said Slade, sitting down at the table. Wintergreen was already in motion, dishing out scoops of scrambled eggs onto everyone’s plates. Dick blinked, a little glimmer of hope entering his chest. Maybe Slade would let him come.

“Ca–can I come?”

“No, you may not,” said Slade in an even tone, yet there was a hint of amusement in his voice. Disappointment now took the place of hope.

“But why not? I won’t run away,” protested Dick.

Dick was a little surprised by his words, but he found them to be the truth. He wouldn’t run away, not any more. Even if Slade opened the front door, Dick would have a very hard time deciding what to do next. It was shocking and confusing to his system, but at the same time he ignored what his current truth fully meant. Once again, he was overcome with the wish that the two of them were just normal people, instead of that awful black and white line that always seemed to separate them wider than the largest chasm.

Slade gave him a skeptical look.

“If you don’t believe me, then just do something so I can’t run away,” said Dick, hoping to convince the man to let him come along. To leave this place on a mission would be an amazing treat after so many months of being cooped up inside.

“I don’t need any external device to keep you at my side when my own two hands can do that very well, thank you,” said Slade with a dry smirk. “But that’s not the issue. This contract is above your level right now.”

“Oh, come on,” protested Dick, feeling annoyed at the sound of that. “I’ve been training all this time. You always say how much I’ve improved. Why can’t I come? I haven’t been outside in months.”

Slade’s grey blue eye turned dark.

“A mafia boss is threatening a CEO’s family, numerous families, in fact. Thus, the client has requested that I take care of his ‘pest problem’. In layman’s terms: I am going to take a gun and shoot him.”

Dick’s mouth went dry. He managed to swallow finally.

“This job requires two things; two things you haven’t overcome,” said Slade, that grey blue eye glinting with darkness. “Guns and killing.”

Dick’s mouth couldn’t go drier at that moment. He couldn’t even swallow now; feeling thoroughly and completely disconcerted. He didn’t like the thought of Slade killing anyone. What was even stranger was that it wasn’t just the fact that he didn’t like anyone killing someone else, it was that he didn’t like Slade killing anyone. Why couldn’t the man choose a different line of work? And why’d he have to go up against a mafia boss of all people? Even Batman knew to be careful around such treacherous people.

“Why do you have to go?” asked Dick in a whisper, dropping his head down and avoiding the man’s hardened gaze.

“Why…?”

Dick looked up to see the man’s expression. Slade seemed completely caught off guard by the question. There was a moment where the man only observed Dick with a slightly widened eye. Then, it hardened quickly.

“Because I’ve been contracted.”

“But you don’t have to go,” protested Dick. “You could always decline the contract.”

Slade raised an eyebrow. “And just why would I do that?”

“Because you shouldn’t kill somebody!” cried Dick heatedly; his clenched fists shaking in his lap. “Why can’t you drop the guy off at the police station or something? Why do you have to kill the guy?”

“Drop him off at the police station?” repeated Slade incredulously. “How foolish. They wouldn’t be able to keep him even a full night.”

“Of course, they could!” said Dick; his tone rising intensely. “The man’s a murderer and a criminal. Why wouldn’t they be able to keep him?”

“You have some highly appraised vision of your judicial system,” drawled Slade, his voice lightly dipping into a snarl. “News flash, Dick: the world isn’t all flowers and daisies. The hard truth is there are people who don’t have your code of honor. Do you understand what I’m saying here?”

“No, I don’t! All that just sounds like an excuse to me,” protested Dick.

“Well, then; let me make it clearer for you,” growled Slade, his eye taking on a terrible dark light; his lip curling into a sneer slightly. “It means that this man has been brought up on multiple charges over and over again. But guess what? Somehow, he always gets free.”

A chill slid down into the pit of Dick’s stomach; unable to believe those words.

“But… But how—?”

Slade slammed his hands onto the surface of the table, cutting Dick off and causing the contents on the table to rattle ominously.

“It’s called bribery, you stupid, naive boy!” shouted Slade. Wintergreen quietly stopped his glass of juice from tipping over; continuing to remain silent through the conversation. Slade exhaled harshly; turning his head to the side briefly before returning its stern glare back onto Dick. “It’s called bribery. You’re familiar with the term, aren’t you? Men with money, with power rule. That’s reality. You’ve been sheltered. Your Batman knows this stuff; he gets it. But he didn’t teach you reality. The reality of life is there will be people who will escape punishment because of their money and power.”

Slade leaned forward onto the table; his elbows on the surface with his fingers interlaced. He looked over those fingers, a dark light like no other entering his single grey blue eye.

“I am going through with this contract. No matter what you say, think, or believe, I will leave and I will take down that man before the day is through.”

Dick swallowed once, his throat still dry; thoroughly unnerved by the look in the man’s eye.

“The world is cruel, Dick,” said Slade, his tone becoming softer now. “I’m afraid that’s the fact of it. The world is terribly cruel. People are killed all the time. You might think it’s wrong for me to kill this man, but you are conveniently forgetting the fact that this man has killed thousands of innocent people – young and old, I might add – for whatever reason he’s chosen. Yet he still goes free. If someone wants to pay me to get rid of the scum, then I’ll gladly take him out.”

Those words sunk deep into Dick’s mind. He closed his eyes; hating those words with all his heart. He knew Slade wasn’t lying about this, but it still didn’t stop Dick from hating it. How could such things be true? He just didn’t want to believe it.

But Dick knew it was true.

Tony Zucco, the man that had killed his parents, would’ve gone free if it hadn’t been for Batman. It was through his constant insistence that got the terrible man in jail for life. The truth was all too devious. It was like a poison. Dick knew all too well that Slade was telling the truth and it was cruel on his young heart – like a knife driving into his soft flesh.

Criminals got away all the time.

Why did that have to be?

Dick’s lower lip trembled. He tucked it in beneath his teeth, trying to stop it. Something new was rising through him like a terrible wave as his thoughts filled with the single memory of the deaths of his parents. It began to overpower him as he thought about all the potential scenarios that could occur as Slade went out on this contract.

Then, somehow the worry rose up through Dick’s throat like bile.

Dick dropped his head, looking down at his plate.

“Is it… dangerous?” asked Dick in a whisper. Slade stopped with his breakfast and blinked once. He looked at Dick with a perplexed expression.

“What kind of question is that?” asked Slade with a raised eyebrow.

“Just that,” insisted Dick in another whisper, looking back up. “Is it dangerous?”

Slade considered him for a few moments before he shrugged lightly.

“For you, yes. For me, not at all.”

Dick bit his lower lip, tucking it into his mouth somewhat. His mouth began to salivate once again. His leg bounced nervously. He just couldn’t explain it; there was this rising fear in his chest. It was a similar feeling that he had sometimes felt when he’d watch Batman leave for a very dangerous criminal.

Dick knew the fear was unfounded, but there was always this deep settled fear that he’d be left behind; that someone else would die on him. He was always afraid of losing someone else.

But since when was he worried about Slade?

“But… But what if something goes wrong?” asked Dick, before he could stop himself. “I mean, what if someone finds out that you picked off their boss. They’ll come after you.”

“Probably,” said Slade with an offhanded air.

“But that’s dangerous.”

“Extremely so.”

“Slade, I’m serious,” said Dick, unable to hold back the uneasiness out of his tone. “They could come after you.”

“Oh, honestly,” said Slade; shaking his head, and sounding slightly amused and exasperated. “I am far from concerned that a bunch of two bit mafia chumps will prove any challenge to me. They can’t even touch me. They’ll drop before me like flies.”

Dick had a sudden vision of bulky mafia guys with giant fly wings on their backs, dropping off dead as Slade tore through them. But then, the vision changed and Slade was the one that fell in the midst of them from a bullet wound. Dick tried to clear his mind of the crimson color that splattered through his conscious, but he couldn’t. It wasn’t a delightful thought, to say the least. In fact, he couldn’t help but shudder.

“I should still come with you,” said Dick, blinking rapidly to escape the vivid image in his mind. “I could help you.”

It was there again; that nagging worry. It completely outweighed the truth that Slade was going out on a contract that required a kill. Dick just couldn’t help the worry, the fear, the helpless feeling from eating at his insides. His stomach twisted and turned.

Why was he so worried? Slade could take care of himself. No matter how much Dick didn’t want to admit it, Slade could completely dominate Batman in all realms of prowess. Dick had always thought that Batman was the best of the best, but after watching Slade he knew that was far from the truth. Batman was skilled, no doubt; but Slade could dominate any creature on earth – one on one, no doubt.

So, why was Dick’s stomach churning in a nervous, apprehensive concern for the man? Why did Dick feel the need to worry about the man? He was a criminal, his captor, after all. Who cared if the man got killed on a contract? Then, Dick would be free, right?

Right?

“Dick, you still haven’t completely overcome your phobia yet,” said Slade, his tone firm, yet there was still a gentleness to it when mentioning the phobia.

Dick glanced up to look into that grey blue eye. The words he wanted to say wouldn’t part his lips. His fears, his worries, his needs – no matter how much he wanted to tell the man that he was scared, he couldn’t. It was stupid, foolish, inconceivable; there was no doubt about that. There was no way Dick should’ve been feeling this way.

But he was.

Was it because Slade had given him such a precious and rich gift at Christmas, one he’d probably treasure for the rest of his life? Was it because he had learned of the man’s past and felt bad for him? No, no; it was more than that. Was it the culmination of a number of things? Was Dick so desperate that his heart would sway so easily towards a little kindness from another person, no matter who they were or what they did?

Perhaps… But Slade had proven himself so far.

Was Dick getting that attached to this man? Was he really getting attached to the very man that held him captive? How stupid could that be? Batman would berate Dick for thinking such a thing – fraternizing with the enemy. Batman would be appalled that Dick could’ve been swayed by the man’s past. He’d probably say that Slade had made it up. Slade was the master in manipulation. He knew full well how to sway Dick’s feelings. And Dick knew all the terms for such things; Stockholm Syndrome. He wasn’t stupid; he knew and understood the situation; how Slade was, in no doubt, probably manipulating his feelings.

Still, Stockholm Syndrome was something that often occurred between someone who abused someone else – there was always a victim in such cases.

While, yes, Dick couldn’t leave, he didn’t feel like a victim any more. He did at first and there was no way he would’ve ever gotten attached to the man during those circumstances. No, he had actually hated the man with every fiber of his being.

But once Slade changed his tactic with him, once the man became softer, even kinder, and actually acted normal, the man no longer felt like his abusive captor. What he did feel like, Dick wasn’t so sure what to call it. Life seemed almost normal – almost like during the time he’d been with Bruce and Alfred; although during that time he had been allowed out the front door, at least.

But it seemed even more than that. Dick couldn’t help but feel that there was something more to Slade. When there was that moment where everything seemed normal, when Dick forgot for just a moment what exactly the situation was, there was a similar yet different feeling to Bruce and Alfred.

There was something more, perhaps – dare Dick say it – special between the three of them here. It was such a subtle feeling that Dick wasn’t sure how to pinpoint it.

Was it because Dick learned something about Slade he hadn’t imagined possible?

The man was just that; a man – human.

He got hungry, he ate; he smiled, he laughed; he was mischievous, he teased; he got irritated, he got angry; he got saddened, he tried to hide it – so many normal emotions flowed over Slade’s face and through his single visible eye. Dick noticed at times there was a deep pain inside the man. He hadn’t known it at first, but now he knew. Now he understood why Slade was who he was.

What had made Slade the man he was now? Why did he choose to become a mercenary, an assassin? Why did the man choose to do something like that for a living? Was it his own way to be like he’d been in his army days?

What changed his heart?

Some of those questions had been answered; a glimmer of who Slade was falling into place in Dick’s subconscious, creating a picture like no other. Dick didn’t think Slade made up that story of his past. Somehow, Dick knew it was the truth. While Slade was many things, Dick highly doubted that the man could express such emotion during a lie.

No, the man truly once had a family and that family had been destroyed by his choices. No wonder Slade was who he was. There was no second chance for him to change; there was no way he could fix the past, because those who died couldn’t be brought back to life no matter how deep the heartache was or how deep the apology.

There was no redemption for the man.

“Well, have you?”

Dick blinked; his thoughts getting broken from Slade’s smooth voice. For a moment, he looked at Slade, unsure what to say. Then, he remembered what they’d been talking about – his phobia.

“No, sir,” whispered Dick.

“You are doing better, I’ll admit that,” said Slade. “But I think it wouldn’t be good for you to come on this mission. I’m sorry, Dick; but you aren’t coming this time.”

Dick swallowed and nodded.

“Yes, sir,” said Dick, taking a deep breath and trying to clear his increasing fears. Slade stood up from the table, his breakfast half finished. The man walked past to stop behind him before Dick felt a hand on his shoulder. His breathing quickened slightly as the worry flooded into his chest, yet a contrasting peace flowed over him from the warmth that the hand offered.

“I should be back early tomorrow morning,” said Slade from behind him. “You may have the day off, but behave yourself with Will because if you don’t, I’ll know.”

“Yes, sir,” whispered Dick as he submissively nodded once. The warmth disappeared and Dick found himself turning to watch the man leave the kitchen. The door closed behind him. Dick’s heart palpitated once, falling in his chest before it regulated.

It’s not a big deal. Get a hold of yourself. Why do you even care, anyway? This is Slade for crying out loud. Who cares about his past; that doesn’t justify his actions now. What’s wrong with you?

The voice inside his head began to ruthlessly tear away at his defenses; callously clawing at his protective walls. At moments, it sounded so much like something Robin would say; but then, somehow it blended with Batman’s low, stern voice.

Why should you care about him? Wasn’t he the one that tore you away from your life, so he could force you to do things that aren’t right, things you don’t want to do, things your mother would be revolted by.

He’s your captor.

Are you going to let him teach you how to steal, to kill? Will you lose your humanity? Will you throw away everything that makes you who you are?

Stop getting attached to him; stop caring about him.

After all, isn’t he your enemy? You’re supposed to take him down.

Black and white; light and dark; there is no grey area. You’re the Hero. He’s the Villain. It’s as simple as that.

Stop falling into the obvious trap that’s laid before you.

Dick’s heart began to palpitate in his chest again. He closed his eyes, swallowing once as the worry rose even more – but this time over himself. Of course, he cared. He would always care if anyone got hurt or died. There wasn’t anything anyone could say that would convince him to stop caring.

But the voice inside his head was making him feel guilty just for caring about this man. Was it really all that wrong? Was caring for this man truly a trap? Was he suddenly bad, evil for caring about Slade’s safety?

What if that was true?

Dick’s closed eyes began to burn at that thought. Was that true; that he was bad for caring? Was he now a villain for fraternizing with his enemy? Had his heart turned black for caring about a villain? Was there no hope for him now?

His heart pumped rapidly against his chest; constricting and clenching terribly.

That, he couldn’t bear.

But in the moment where he was almost lost, he felt something flutter through his mind; a memory of old flashed in his vision – a memory of his mother.

ooOOOOOoo

“Mama! Can you believe this?” protested Dick in a fierce little tone as he held up the large family Bible to show his mother. The book was extremely heavy and it was noticeable that he was having trouble just holding it up; his little body tipping to the side at times before he tried his best to straighten under the weight. Mary looked down at her son with a bright smile.

“If it’s in there, then I most certainly can,” said Mary with a mischievous smile; knowing full well that would only make her son get more excitable.

And she was right.

“No! Mama, listen to me,” said Dick; hopping up and down a few times, with slight difficulty. “There’s something in here that’s definitely stupid!”

“Did you mention that to God?” asked Mary in a playful, thoughtful tone. “I’m sure He could use some advice from a six year old.”

“Mama!” cried Dick, sounding thoroughly exasperated. Mary giggled lightly, swooping her son up into her arms, Bible and all. She plopped onto the couch with a sparkle of giggles. She sent a hand to card through his raven black hair.

“All right, my little robin,” said Mary in a soft, gentle voice; trilling her r’s as she spoke. “Tell me, what is unbelievable?”

“This,” said Dick with a determined nod. He quickly opened the Bible to the book of Matthew and pointed to a passage with an indignant air.

“There,” said Dick at the offending words. He folded his arms and looked at Mary with an incensed frown on his face. Mary leaned down to look at the passage.

“What’s wrong with it, Dick?”

“What’s wrong with it?” repeated Dick, thoroughly incredulous. “Why’s God saying we gotta love our enemies? He’s joking right? God’s got a funny sense of humor, doesn’t He?”

Mary’s voice trilled as she laughed and giggled at her young son. This, however, only made Dick more indignant.

“What’s so funny?” demanded Dick.

“You, my little robin,” said Mary finally. “You are precious.”

“Mama!”

“All right, I’ll tell you something special. How about that?”

At the serious change in Mary’s tone, Dick straightened in her lap; wide, bright blue eyes looking expectantly at her. Soft arms tightened around his waist as he was pulled closer to Mary.

“Did you know there’s another scripture?”

“There’s an entire book with other scriptures, Mama,” deadpanned Dick. “Pick one.”

He received more giggles and a tightened hug.

“Exactly so, little robin,” said Mary through her giggles. “But I meant there’s another scripture that I believe goes with this one very well. Do you know what it is?”

“No, but you’re gonna tell me.”

Mary smiled softly. “Actually, there are multiple times that something like this is said, but the scripture says to love one another. Does that not include everyone?”

Dick frowned and folded his arms grumpily. He gazed up at his mother with a questioning eye.

“Does that really include our enemies? Do I really gotta love even bad people?”

“Of course, my little robin. Everyone means everyone. Not one is to be left out.”

Mary leaned closer to Dick, nuzzling her nose against his.

“Share your special love with everyone, little robin. You never know what your love can do, for love is the most powerful gift and power that God can grant anyone. It is most certainly a power in its own right and you can move even the darkest of hearts with it.”

ooOOOOOoo

January 23rd, 2009. Friday, 8:23 am.

The fluttering sensation left him as a small peace washed over Dick; his soul remembering the soft, yet powerful words of his mother. It was all right to care. The worry of being bad slipped away; his heart calming in that. He took a deep breath, thankful for her memories. Even though he wished with all his heart that he could have more of her, he was thankful for the ones he did have.

Well, there was no doubt now. Dick was feeling especially nervous; the doubt was cleared – he was worried for Slade’s wellbeing; which, obviously, was a completely unfounded fear. Yet his heart still worried because that was just what Dick’s heart would do for someone – especially someone he was beginning to care about.

Slade was Slade – the man was enhanced; there was no way anyone could stand against him. And, after all, Slade was a man of his word.

He’d be back, just like he said he’d be.

But there wasn’t anything Dick could do at that moment except let his emotions eat away at his stomach. It was as if there was a little worm burrowing through his insides. His breakfast was half finished, just like Slade’s, but he didn’t want to leave the table. However, there was no stopping his fidgeting. He glanced at the door to the main room multiple times.

Gosh, why couldn’t he calm down? You’d think he was waiting for the medical report on a dying friend. What the heck was wrong with him?

Ten minutes of fidgeting did little to ease his feelings.

Finally, obviously thoroughly exasperated by this point, Wintergreen spoke up.

“Child, would you hold still already? Finish your breakfast. Good grief, do you have ants in your pants or something?”

Dick flushed and shook his head, ducking it low as well.

“No, sir,” whispered Dick, but the fidgeting didn’t stop. Wintergreen sighed; standing up from the table and coming to stand next to Dick. He placed a hand on his shoulder for a moment.

“Come with me, Richard,” said Wintergreen in a soft voice. Unable to deny the old man, especially after hearing the old man call him by his name, Dick followed Wintergreen down the hallway. The old man turned down the hallway towards his bedroom, but he didn’t stop there; instead, he continued down the hallway to the locked door at the end. Wintergreen gave him a small smile over his shoulder.

“I think it’s about time to let you have access to this,” said Wintergreen with a twinkle in his aged hazel eyes. “I know Slade hasn’t thought about it, because he’s been too busy with your education. But I think you’ll enjoy this.”

Wintergreen tapped the door above the handle and a keypad slid open. In a moment, Wintergreen keyed in the password and unlocked the door. Dick followed the old man inside the room and was surprised at what he saw.

Inside the room were numerous bookcases, each filled with hundreds of books. It was like a library; books upon books of all sizes. Dick was amazed by the sheer volume. He took a step forward and placed a hand on the edge of a bookcase, running a hand against the wood.

Dick noticed that there was a couch and a few single sofa chairs.

“Well, this is just a small part of Slade’s collection, but it should last you for quite awhile,” said Wintergreen.

Dick shot the old man a shocked look. There was more? Geez, where did Slade keep all his secret stuff? This was a stunning collection of books. Who knew Slade was such an avid reader?

“You may read whatever you like for as long as you like; at least until bedtime,” said Wintergreen.

Dick bit his lower lip. He glanced at Wintergreen. There was no way he was going to get any sleep tonight. But he seriously didn’t want to lie in bed all night and worry himself to death. He accepted the fact that he was worrying about Slade. The thought of being alone to his thoughts for hours at time was more than he could bear.

“Can’t I wait up for Slade?” asked Dick in a low whisper. Wintergreen looked startled by the request. He stared at Dick, as if studying and observing him.

“No, Richard. I think it’s best that you go to bed on time. You’ll see him tomorrow,” said Wintergreen, his voice verging on a reassuring tone.

“Please?” asked Dick. “Please, can’t I, just this once?”

“No, child. You need your sleep.”

“I won’t be able to get any tonight,” insisted Dick in a soft voice. Wintergreen considered him for a moment. Then, a wry smile lifted his aged face as he raised an eyebrow.

“Now, now; you need your sleep. You’re a growing boy.”

“Please? Can’t I stay up?”

There was a long moment before Wintergreen gave him a hard look.

“Are you truly willing to risk punishment by defying me? You know what Slade said.”

Dick’s lips trembled. He seriously wasn’t trying to defy the old man. But he much rather stay up and know that Slade hadn’t died or gotten hurt, than lie in bed, brooding on the whole thing. That would be more than he could bear. But he really didn’t want to get trouble.

Instead, Dick set pleading eyes on Wintergreen; truly hoping that the old man would be able to understand his feelings. Of course, that was a pretty silly hope, but hope Dick did.

Wintergreen sighed.

“All right; all right,” said Wintergreen, throwing his hands into the air. “But don’t say I didn’t warn you. Don’t blame me if Slade doesn’t like this.”

Dick smiled.

“Thank you, Will.”

Wintergreen gave him a smile of his own and patted him on the shoulder. Then, he left the library; leaving the door open as he left.

It took a moment for Dick to tear his gaze away from the open door to the plethora of books available. He slowly walked through each of the isles of bookcases. He smiled at the different kinds of books. He recognized many of the old classics and wondered if Slade had read them or had merely gotten them for Wintergreen. Dick just couldn’t imagine the man taking a breather to sit and read. It just didn’t seem like something that Slade would do.

But then again, Dick hadn’t ever imagined the man eating – which, of course, he did like any other person.

There were also a number of self help books – which surprised and amused Dick to no end. There were a lot of instructional, college level books on multiple subjects; from math, to literature, to psychology, to engineering, to computers, to art, to music, to far more. He also saw many recent authors.

It took him a few minutes before he settled on one. He took the book and sat down in one of the single arm chairs; draping his legs over the edge while he rested his back on the other side. He curled up and began to read; hoping to ignore the worry that was still twisted inside his stomach.

ooOOOOOoo

January 24th, 2009. Saturday, 4:21 am.

“Ah, welcome back, Slade,” said Wintergreen, looking up from his book as Slade entered the kitchen. Slade pulled off his mask and gave the old man a tired smile.

“What are you doing up?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” said Wintergreen, standing up right away to go to the stovetop. He poured a hot cup of coffee into a mug and handed it to Slade.

“Oh, Will,” said Slade, shaking his head as he sat down in a chair. He sighed deeply, feeling tired. “You shouldn’t have waited up.”

“But then, who’d be able to hand you your first cup of coffee for the day?” asked Wintergreen, a wry smile tugging at his mouth. Slade let out a low chuckle and brought the mug to his lips.

“Thank you,” murmured Slade, sipping slightly and breathing deeply. A feeling of thankfulness to his old friend swept over him as he slowly drank. Wintergreen sat down at the table and observed him for a moment. Slade raised an eyebrow.

“Something happen while I was gone?”

“No, not really,” said Wintergreen. “Just a little something unusual, perhaps.”

“Like what?”

“Richard wanted to wait up for you.”

Slade blinked. “He what?”

“I told him no at first, but he insisted even when I told him you might be displeased with him,” continued Wintergreen. “He’s waiting for you in the library. But I have a feeling he fell asleep by now. He was awake around two, but he was struggling at it.”

“The minute I’m gone he’s disobedient,” said Slade; clicking his tongue once as he felt the displeasure and disappointment rise inside his chest. “I had thought we’d gotten past that.”

Wintergreen’s mouth lifted in a knowing smile.

“I think I’ll let you figure it out,” said Wintergreen, his hazel eyes twinkling lightly. “You should know that he wasn’t belligerent at all. And you know very well I can handle that fourteen year old child if he caused any real trouble. Why don’t you check in on him and send him to bed. He’ll probably have to sleep in tomorrow.”

With that, Wintergreen stood from the table and walked past Slade. The old man gave Slade a light squeeze on the shoulder before leaving.

“Good night.”

“You, too,” replied Slade. He waited a few moments before he set his empty mug onto the table.

Wintergreen hadn’t seemed to be put off by the boy’s defiance; however, Slade didn’t like the fact that Dick had been anything but on his best behavior while he was away. Granted, this wasn’t a big offense. At any rate, Slade wanted perfect obedience from the boy. Anything less and it made it that much harder for Slade to bring the boy on a mission. Dick was overdue for one. He’d definitely proven that he was more than capable and Slade wasn’t too worried that the boy would try to escape right away; not to mention Slade could procure ways of keeping tabs on him – if not Slade’s mere presence was enough.

In some ways, though, Slade didn’t want to bring Dick on a mission with him.

But the boy certainly wasn’t ready for a mission by himself; Slade wasn’t ready to let him go off on his own. For multiple reasons Slade didn’t want the boy to go on a mission on his own. Was he feeling overprotective? Probably, but it’d wear off after a little while longer. Slade always felt these feelings after the anniversary of Grant and Rose’s deaths. He didn’t want a replay of that with Dick. Plus, the boy wasn’t loyal to him. There was no reason to stick around; the minute Dick could get the chance to escape, there was no doubt in Slade’s mind that he’d take it.

Slade stood up from the table and began to walk down the hallway; once in front of Dick’s bedroom door, he turned to the right and walked to the open door of the library.

He wasn’t sure if he should punish Dick for defying Wintergreen. He wasn’t sure what to make of it. What he couldn’t understand was why Wintergreen wasn’t concerned with this behavior. The boy shouldn’t be allowed to get away with such things. He should know better by now.

Slade stepped into the room. His eye caught sight of Dick, who was deeply asleep in an armchair. Slade chuckled softly at the way the boy was draped over the arms. Couldn’t sit in the chair normally, could he? Slade quietly stepped to him. He noticed that there was a book on his stomach, halfway through. Slade’s eye flickered to the floor and he saw three other books. It seemed that the boy was a pretty fast reader as well. Slade reached down and slipped the book out of Dick’s grasp; letting the book’s natural bookmark ribbon mark his place, before he set the book on top of the pile on the floor.

Slade let a smile cross his face as he looked down at the sleeping boy. He looked so peaceful, so innocent. It’d be a shame to wake him. Well, four in the morning wasn’t exactly the time to deal with the boy’s conduct. Might as well deal with it tomorrow. Thus, Slade decided not to disturb Dick’s sleep, slipping an arm beneath the boy’s knees and behind his back; lifting him up into his arms. Dick stirred and he woke slightly.

“Slade?” murmured Dick, his drooping eyes struggling to open. He moved slightly in his arms, but Slade tightened his hold on the boy.

“Yes, it’s me,” replied Slade in a soft whisper. “Go back to sleep.”

Dick relaxed in his arms, settling his head against his chest. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Slade raised his eyebrow at the sudden change in the boy’s body; it was as if he felt secure in Slade’s arms.

“You’re home safe… Thank goodness…” whispered Dick, his blue eyes disappearing beneath his eyelids. Dick slipped off to sleep almost instantly; leaving Slade in a state of shock. He stared down at the sleeping child, thinking heavily on what those words meant.

Was that it? The boy had been worried about him? Was that the reason he risked getting into trouble by defying Wintergreen? Was that what Wintergreen had been going on about? Had the old man figured that out and decided to humor the boy? Why would Dick be worried about Slade?

Slade swallowed once; watching the boy breathe slowly in his arms.

Dick truly was beginning to form a bond with Slade. The boy had been worried about Slade’s safety, despite who he was and what he did – even when the boy knew full well of Slade’s power. It was illogical to worry; and yet, he had worried, like a child would with someone they cared about. At that thought, Slade nearly barked out a surprised laugh; but he held back, not wanting to disturb the sleeping boy.

What a foolish thought. Dick worried about Slade; caring about Slade? That had to be laughable.

Slade slowly walked out of the library and to the boy’s room. He carefully opened the door without disturbing Dick too much in his arms. He walked to the boy’s bed and gently deposited him on top. Dick stirred slightly in his sleep and Slade quickly, but carefully, pulled out the covers from beneath him. Once the boy was beneath the warmth of his comforter, he stilled slightly; his breathing deepening.

Slade took a hand and brushed through the boy’s bangs.

Knowing Dick, though, it wasn’t a foolish thought. Before Slade had gotten to know Dick, he’d never assume that Robin would ever care about his enemies. He’d been trained by Batman, after all. The Dark Knight of Gotham had a hard heart against his enemies – everyone knew that, especially his enemies. But Slade had learned extremely quickly that Dick had a soft heart, a kind one – one that offered love to anyone. Yes, he took down his enemies with swiftness and with power, but there was still this soft nature in his heart. Slade wasn’t sure where had he learned that. Had he truly just been born with such a heart?

There was such a tenderness to the boy, even more than what Joey had possessed, actually. And yet, there was this contrasting, powerful strength that Joey hadn’t had. Where had Dick gained such a soft, forgiving heart? How had it survived through five years under the tutelage of Batman? How had it survived through four months under Slade’s tutelage?

Dick was far stronger than Slade could’ve imagined.

And that strong heart was starting to bond, starting to care, starting to worry – and all over Slade. However, no matter the bond, Dick still had his morals ingrained inside of his heart. There would always be conflict between them over such things. It wouldn’t matter how much Dick cared, how much he bonded with Slade, they’d always come to a conflict. Loyal or not, those morals still existed inside the child and they were extremely strong. Could Slade break them without breaking the boy?

Was it worth it if it did?

ooOOOOOoo

January 25th, 2009. Sunday, 3:17 am.

A choking scream burst from Dick’s lips as he bolted up in bed. Every muscle in his body was trembling, shivering, shaking in absolute fright. A sheen of sweat rose from his skin all over his entire body. Dick clasped a hand over his pounding heart; checking for the wound that wasn’t there. His hand frantically slid over his arm and shoulder; rechecking to see if the bullet holes would be there.

They weren’t.

He had dreamt about that terrible moment – that moment when the Joker had shot him. The nightmare had begun with the usual one of his parents’ awful fall to their deaths, but it hadn’t ended there as it normally did. After that, he was in that street alley; getting shot by the Joker and enduring the endless agony of the pain.

Dick was standing suddenly. He wasn’t sure what he was doing, but he was at his door and wrenching it open. A few quick steps and he was standing outside Slade’s bedroom door; shivering and shaking in his tremors.

But he stopped suddenly; realizing what he was doing. It was in the middle of the night – what was he trying to do, wake up Slade? Besides, what the heck was he doing? Was he really seeking comfort from Slade, of all people? That seriously wasn’t what he was trying to do.

But there he was, standing outside the man’s bedroom door; almost ready to knock and wake him up. Slade probably wouldn’t appreciate being woken up in the middle of the night. But he had said that if Dick ever needed him, that he was available.

Since when did Dick need Slade?

The door opened suddenly and Slade stopped abruptly at the sight of Dick. His visible eye widened when he saw him. The man was still dressed in his day clothing of black slacks and a white button down shirt.

“Dick, are you all right? I heard you scream,” said Slade in a whisper, a hint of concern in his voice.

“I–I’m fine,” said Dick shakily. He wasn’t sure what he was doing. What the heck was he doing? Why was he here? Why?

“Did you have another nightmare?” asked Slade.

“I–I’m sorry. I–I didn’t mean to wake you,” babbled Dick nervously. “I don’t know what I’m doing here. I’m sorry. I—I’ll go back now.”

Dick continued to babble quickly; not really noticing the pair of strong hands that were placed on his shoulders. They were calmly leading him inside the man’s room. Dick continued to spew out apologies for waking the man until he felt himself being pushed onto the edge of the bed. He blinked and looked up at Slade, who had a slight wry smirk on his face with a lifted eyebrow.

“You can calm down now,” said Slade, sounding greatly amused.

“But—”

“I was working late – you didn’t wake me,” said Slade, overriding Dick’s protests.

“Oh…”

The hands withdrew and Slade took a seat next to Dick on the bed; the mattress sagging as he did so. There was silence for a few moments. Dick wasn’t sure what he was doing, but he was a little surprised. It seemed as if Slade had been coming to see if he was all right.

Just like last time.

“It was another nightmare, correct?” asked Slade. Dick breathed in deeply, trying to stop his trembling.

Yeah, it had been another nightmare. He wished they would just stop already. But somehow the memories always came back to haunt him, taunt him, make fun of him – squeeze and choke the very life out of his chest. Luckily, the nightmares didn’t happen every night – merely every few weeks to months. But when they did occur, they were overpowering.

Dick nodded to Slade’s question.

“Do you want to talk about it? It might help,” said Slade. Dick let out a low, injured chuckle.

“Talking about it won’t change the memories.”

“Ah. So, your nightmares are past memories?”

A splash of morbid wit came over Dick as he gave Slade a tired smirk. “Not all my nightmares can include you.”

That got him a few chuckles.

But then, Dick sobered as he dropped his hands into his lap and stared at them. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to tell Slade anything. He was still the man’s captive – yes, things had changed some between them, but Dick still didn’t fully trust Slade; even though the trust level had greatly grown. On many levels, Dick’s brain was completely swamped by the fact that this was his life now and to make the best of it.

While the stronger, brighter side of his mind was screaming at him: Slade was a criminal; Slade was a bad person; Slade did bad things to people; Slade was an assassin; Slade was a mercenary.

But that part of Dick’s mind was slowly growing dimmer and dimmer.

It wasn’t as if Dick had completely forgotten those things. He was just seeing a new side to everything and they were beginning to put Slade into a whole new light. Yes, the man was a mercenary, but Dick was finding that he wasn’t exactly a bad person, per se. He just made poor choices in life – he was human, after all. Dick was also finding that Slade didn’t actually do bad things to people; only when contracted, and even then, he was generally contracted to take out evil mobsters or protect a high profile family.

And sure, the man lost his bad temper sometimes, but Dick had to admit to himself that he was just the same. He was probably more hot headed than Slade was – although when Slade lost his temper, it was probably the most frightening thing on the planet. But the man had not once, since promising that he wouldn’t, beaten Dick or struck him out of anger.

But there was always this little nagging voice in the back of Dick’s mind telling him that Slade could go back to his older ways of dealing with him at any time. There was nothing really stopping him. Overall, there had been a few times when Dick thought the man was going to revert back, but Slade had managed to reel it back in – only to punish Dick in his usual, yet embarrassing way: a very hard clout against the backside.

He really didn’t like it, but there was a part of him that accepted it. Slade dealt with him in a very controlled way, much different than he had during the first month. While Dick did hate feeling like a little child, the man’s actions also brought a sense of normalcy, consistency, and security – perhaps even feeling as if the man were a constant adult figure in his life.

A hand rested on the mid-lower section of Dick’s back. In a soothing rhythm, it gently rubbed in a small area back and forth. Occasionally, it would lightly pat his back a few times before returning to its rhythm. Slade didn’t speak or force Dick to reply, merely using his hand in that soothing touch.

Somehow, Dick felt calmed. The terrible trembling that he had been experiencing was beginning to lessen. Slowly, his breathing and heart began to return to their normal rate. He still shivered slightly, due to the slight sweat that his nightmare had produced. But everything seemed a little better; just a little better.

All because of one hand resting on his back.

Dick sat there, extremely still for awhile; soaking in the touch. He almost didn’t want it to end – it was too comforting. It seemed to say, “There, there; everything will get better.” And yet, that just wasn’t what Slade would say. Ever. But he hadn’t needed to – his hand did the trick perfectly.

Who could’ve thought that something like this was all Dick needed to calm his heart down? He never really needed much from others. The occasional touch like this was more than enough, although Dick was fully ready to admit he craved more. And at any rate, there hadn’t ever really been anyone to offer such softness – not since his parents had died.

What was so special about a casual, soft touch from someone anyway? Especially when that someone was Slade? He appreciated it when Wintergreen offered such things, but for some reason when Slade was the one who offered the touch, it always seemed so much more; so much more comforting.

The tiredness and exhaustion from his nightmare began to slip over him. He felt peace wash over in a soft, tender wave. He felt his eyes begin to droop and he yawned once before he could stop himself.

But he found himself not wanting to move.

“Why don’t you lie down for a few minutes,” suggested Slade in a soft undertone. Dick shook his head quickly, seriously not wanting to move. But his eyes were having great difficulty staying open. So, Dick just closed them. If he pretended he was still awake, then maybe that hand might stay there longer. However, the hand withdrew. A whimper rose in Dick’s throat, but never escaped his lips.

But then, the hand rested on his shoulder, along with a second hand on his other shoulder. Dick found himself being forced to lie down onto his side.

“Go on, Dick. Just lie down,” said Slade in that same soft, even coaxing undertone. “I’m still working. You can stay here for now.”

There was no fighting it. Dick laid down without any more protests. The covers were pulled out from beneath him and soon afterward warmth blanketed over him. He breathed in deeply; smelling the musky, rustic scent of the man’s cologne throughout the bedding. Somehow, it made him feel even more sleepy.

He felt a hand lace through his bangs for a moment.

“Go to sleep, Dick,” whispered the owner of the hand. Dick nodded lightly, snuggling more beneath the covers so that they came past his ears. The pillow was perfectly soft and with that masculine, soothing fragrance completely surrounding him, Dick was finding it hard to disobey that request. But as the hand lifted away from his bangs, he felt the need to speak.

“It was the Joker,” whispered Dick beneath the comforter. “First, I dreamt about my parents, but then the dream changed to him.”

There was a long moment of silence. Dick was nodding off before he vaguely heard Slade’s quiet, yet strong reply.

“The Joker won’t ever hurt you again – since I won’t allow it. I will protect you.”

Somehow, in Dick’s light sleep, there was a contented lift of his lips at the sound of that.

ooOOOOOoo

January 25th, 2009. Sunday, 7:24 am.

Batman stood inside the main room of the Gotham City morgue. He stood motionless, taking deep breaths. Commissioner Gordon had said that he had something important that might interest him.

Something on Deathstroke.

Batman had told the older man that if anything came up on the mercenary to tell him immediately. He hadn’t given the man too much of a reason why at first, but the older man wormed the fact out of him that a boy had been kidnapped by the assassin and Batman was trying to save him. The thought that after so many months there might be a lead, something small to push Batman in the right direction to uncovering this kidnapper, was more than enough to make Batman go crazy with anticipation.

Yet, he stood rigid as a post, waiting for the commissioner.

Commissioner Gordon opened one of the frozen chambers, pulling out the body of an adult male. Batman immediately recognized the man to be one of the more infamous mafia bosses. He was hit with two surprises; one, the fact that this man was dead; two, the fact that Gordon had his body.

“I have some information that he was sniped by Deathstroke,” said Gordon. “Who contracted him; well, it could be anyone, really. This man has more bodies on his hands than the sands on a beach. He’s been threatening a number of families and it could be any one of them.”

Gordon pointed to the man’s skull.

“Clean bullet to the head. Body was dropped off at a local police station. No one saw him come or go. Can’t believe it was that easy for the man. Years of trying to get some major dirt on this scumbag and that assassin knocks him off in one blow.”

“That’s it?” asked Batman.

“`Fraid so,” said Gordon, sounding regretful. “I wish there was more, really I do.”

Well, it was still something. It showed that Deathstroke was still on the move; still working. But whether or not Dick had been with the man during the contract was a whole other story. Batman couldn’t imagine Dick going along something like that quietly; but then again, a lot can happen to a kid’s psyche in four controlled months with a sociopathic kidnapper.

“Basically another dead end,” murmured Batman out loud.

“Well, I guess all we can really do at this point is pray for the poor kid,” said Gordon, placing a hand on Batman’s shoulder. “I’ll be sure to relate that to the rest of my family.”

A deep feeling of bitterness rose inside Batman’s chest. While he knew this man meant well, Batman couldn’t help but be reminded of his current failure. After all, what could prayer do when he couldn’t even save the kid himself? Wasn’t he Batman? Wasn’t he supposed to be able to crack anything? Wasn’t he acclaimed to be the world’s greatest detective? Just how much longer was he supposed to live with this ineptitude, with this obstruction to his abilities in saving the one kid that needed it the most?

Who was watching over that kid? Who was protecting him? Was there anyone who cared enough to save that kid from the devil himself? What could prayer do now? What God would let a fourteen year old boy fall into such a predicament in the first place?

What God would let a child’s parents be ripped away from him?

Batman and Dick had so much more in common then they truly realized.

Prayer wasn’t going to help anyone here. They needed action; they needed clues; they needed leads; they needed something, anything that could just shed a glimmer of light – that glimmer of light which gave affirmation that the kid could still be saved.

Humans were alone to save themselves, after all.

There was a flutter that passed over Batman, yet there was no wind. The flutter passed over him; bringing a warmth like none Batman had ever felt before. A trilling thought rose inside his mind, but it greatly confused him.

“Wait a little longer. Never give up hope.”

The flutter disappeared just as suddenly as it came; the warmth disappearing as well. Batman heavily considered the strange thought. It wasn’t his own, that much was for sure. As he pondered on it, he grew angry. ‘Never give up hope.’? ‘Wait a little longer.’? For what? For that kid to get killed? How much longer would he have to endure such pain? Just when was Batman allowed to swoop in and save that kid?

After he committed his first theft? After he had killed his first target? After he was brainwashed beyond recognition? Just when was the right time for that kid to be saved? How much longer did he have to endure this kidnapping?

How many times was he being starved? How many times was he being beaten? How many times did he cry all alone? How many times did he sink into despair?

Four months?! The boy, the kid, that child had been missing for over four cruel, evil months! Just how much more did he have to endure before it was enough? When was he going to catch a break? When would the balance of life be satisfied with the pain that he had endured?

Wasn’t losing his parents enough? Wasn’t getting tortured by these Gotham idiots enough?

Wasn’t getting stuck with such a poor guardian enough?

Hadn’t the kid suffered enough?!

“I know you’re a man of secrets, but if there’s anything more I can do, you let me know,” said Gordon.

The bitterness of his heart created a bad taste in Batman’s mouth. His stance hardened as he looked at the aged commissioner.

“How can you find this man, when not even I, supposedly the world’s greatest detective, cannot find even so much as a trace of him?

ooOOOOOoo

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