Forgotten Bonds – Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Three
Day of Inebriation

December 29th, 2008. Monday, 7:00 am.

It was a few days after Christmas that Dick found something off with the entire household. Even the air seemed weighed down by some terrible burden. Dick could actually feel it on his shoulders as if it were trying to break his soul in half. He wasn’t sure why he was feeling that way. He was perfectly fine – he had given both Slade and Wintergreen their presents. Sure, he hadn’t been with the Titans for Christmas, but it hadn’t been too bad here. If fact… It had been pretty nice.

And even Slade had given him something – something that was far more precious than he could ever have imagined receiving from the man.

But as Dick walked into the kitchen that morning, he was now fully sure something was off. Wintergreen wasn’t at his usual station – the stove. The old man wasn’t making breakfast. In fact, the kitchen was empty. Dick poked around, checking to see if there had been any life that morning, but there was nothing different from the night before.

Which meant Wintergreen hadn’t come into the kitchen at all.

It was then that Dick caught sight of a note on the kitchen table. He quickly scanned it, his eyes flitting back and forth as he read. Once he finished, he set the note back down onto the table and went to the cabinet. He withdrew a box of cereal and a bowl. After getting a spoon, he grabbed some milk from the fridge. Once he was settled into a chair at the table, he poured his breakfast and ate alone.

The note had been from Wintergreen. The old man said that Slade was giving him the day off; however, Wintergreen wouldn’t be able to make breakfast, so Dick had to fend for himself.

It wasn’t bothering Dick…

Much.

The only noise that flittered through the room were the crunching sounds of his cereal as he chewed and the clink of his spoon within the bowl. The kitchen clock ticked with every second. Dick dropped his spoon into his bowl and leaned his elbow onto the table, resting his chin in his hand; his gaze deep down into the hallway.

There was no doubt he was feeling a bit lonely. He was used to the three of them sitting at the table and eating together. Yeah, most of the mornings were done in silence or light conversation, but it was the quiet companionship that Dick was so used to that made the unbending silence he was now experiencing just unbearable.

Would he get to see the other two today? Dick wasn’t used to being alone. There were some times where he wished for a moment to himself; but to be honest, he was content to have the other men around. Being alone was just awful and lonely. It left him to his thoughts and sometimes they weren’t comforting or helpful – at all.

Dick returned to his breakfast, eating in the silence; the terrible feeling he had felt when waking up only intensifying. Something just didn’t seem right. Something was terribly off.

But there was no way of finding out. Dick really didn’t feel like he should check on the two men. What if they were sleeping in today? Disturbing them just didn’t seem like something he could do.

So, Dick merely finished up his breakfast, making sure to clean his dishes, and went back to his room. For a few hours or so, he tried to keep himself occupied. He played a game for awhile on his DS, but he quickly got tired of that. It just wasn’t as fun without another player. He tried to mess around on his iPod for some time, but like the DS, he quickly got bored.

Dick laid on his bed, looking out into his room; his arm outstretched over the edge of the bed. He clutched his iPod in the hand that hung over the floor. The air was oppressive. He didn’t feel depressed, but it almost felt as if the air itself was terribly sorrowed by something. It was bearing down on him, trying to drag him down into the depths.

He rolled over, shoving his iPod underneath his pillow and curling his arms in front; staring at the white wall with glazed eyes. He hated this. What was going on? What was he supposed to do under this weight? A day off wasn’t fun when he was by himself. He much rather…

Dick found himself wanting to be with Slade. His thoughts went to that play day that the two of them had. If Dick closed his eyes and pretended, it seemed like a normal day between a…

Something rose inside Dick’s chest. Was he really imagining something unimaginable?

Something like that just wasn’t possible.

How stupid.

Dick rolled over again, facing the inside of his room. Bile rose inside his throat, making him feel sick. He didn’t like being alone. It was terrible. Dick’s glance lifted to the white binder that now had a permanent placing on his desk – the white, sacred gift that he would always be thankful for; the gift of memories, the gift of remembering, the gift of his parents.

He couldn’t take it any more.

Dick sat up, checking the clock. It was around lunchtime now. He wasn’t hungry, though. But for lack of anything else to do, he stood up and left his bedroom. As he walked down the hallway, he heard some movement in the kitchen. Hope began to rise inside his chest and he hurried his steps down the hallway. Dick hesitantly peeked around the corner.

Wintergreen was sitting at the table, drinking from a mug. The old man looked so tired. In fact, he actually looked filled with grief. It was so overpowering that Dick was unsure if he should disturb him. He had never seen Wintergreen look like this before. It was so odd. What could’ve happened?

“Afternoon, Will,” said Dick carefully. The old man looked up. He smiled wanly at him and then looked back down at his mug. Dick’s throat went dry. Something was seriously wrong here.

“Where’s Slade?” asked Dick, walking slowly into the room as if he were coming upon a skittish animal. Wintergreen looked up again and set his mug aside.

“Slade doesn’t wish to be disturbed right now,” said Wintergreen. His tone sounded so tired, even older than he ever sounded. He sounded hoarse, his voice raw and deep with emotion.

“What’s wrong? Where is he?” asked Dick, feeling unnerved. Something strange was definitely going on. That ominous feeling was just getting worse. He had never seen the old man act like this. And Slade; Dick never went a day without seeing him. The man hadn’t even surfaced all morning. What the heck was going on around here?

“Slade is currently in the past right now,” murmured Wintergreen. “It’s in your best interest not to bring him back at this time.”

Wintergreen went back to his mug, staring deep into its contents. He seemed to close everything off, almost shutting Dick away. It was a startling feeling from the old man. The old man seemed lost, gone from the present. Dick shivered slightly. The depression in the air was crushing over his heart, bearing a heavy weight on his soul and making his back creak with its terrible burden.

He turned away quickly and quietly began to walk down the hallway.

Dick curled his arms around his chest, holding himself in the effort to offer some needed, yet lost comfort. He wasn’t sure what to do now. It seemed as if he wasn’t going to be able to interact with either man. But something definitely didn’t settle right in Dick’s heart.

No, something was horribly wrong.

Soon, Dick was standing outside Slade’s door. He rubbed his arms nervously and hesitated at he stared at the label on the door. Wintergreen had been acting strangely, almost as if he were extremely sad about something. The old man’s eyes had been glazed over with a deep depression. It troubled Dick very much. And what had he meant when he said Slade was in the past right now? Surely he hadn’t meant literally, had he? Last time Dick checked, Slade didn’t have a time machine.

Well, Dick needed some answers. He couldn’t bear this any more. Wintergreen hadn’t appeared to be in any condition to offer any answers; so, Dick was going to go to the other source. Nonetheless, he was still very nervous.

With a hesitant, gentle hand, Dick knocked on the door lightly.

“Sir?” called Dick softly. There was no answer. Dick touched the metal handle carefully. Should he enter the man’s room without permission? He seriously doubted it’d be open. Would Slade be furious with him enough to punish him for entering?

Dick shivered. Yes, the man had been less violent, but the mere thought of what he chose to do instead always made Dick feel like a little child. He hated it, but at the same time was almost glad for the change. Almost three months now and the man hadn’t once resorted to beating him. Slade held back his temper every time. As every day passed by, Dick found himself trusting more and more that Slade would really keep his word.

But a small voice in the back of Dick’s mind always seemed to whisper to him that it was temporary.

Dick turned the handle and slowly cracked open the door.

“Slade?” whispered Dick, feeling nervous as he peeked inside the dimly lit room. He opened the door further to see the man lying on the bed with his back propped against the backing. Dick’s eyes widened at the sight. Slade was still wearing the same clothes he wore yesterday, his blue collared shirt unbuttoned a few buttons from the top; revealing small tufts of white chest hair. There was a shadow of white on his normally clean shaven face, save the goatee; signifying that he hadn’t shaved that morning. Everything about him said disorder – something that was never a message sent from Slade’s general appearance.

The man was swirling a bright golden colored liquid in a small glass. Dick frowned as he caught the smell of alcohol in the room.

Dick couldn’t help but raise his eyebrow. In the near four months he had been here, he hadn’t once seen either man drink – except Wintergreen on Christmas Eve. But Slade hadn’t touched it. Not once, ever. It was extremely strange seeing Slade doing that now. Dick swallowed nervously; unsure how intoxicated the man was. Under the influence was a whole different playing field. The man wouldn’t have as much control as he usually did. There was no stopping the man if he got enraged at Dick.

“Um… sir? Slade?” whispered Dick, taking a step closer to the end of the bed. He didn’t really get a response out of the man. Slade merely swirled the glass some more, watching the liquid as he did so.

“Um… you know… Drinking isn’t really good for you, sir,” said Dick, keeping his voice soft and gentle. Somehow, he didn’t like seeing Slade like this. He didn’t like seeing the man intoxicated. It was strange, but he just didn’t like seeing Slade different than he normally appeared to be. It made him feel unsettled and uncomfortable.

Slade let out a few harsh chuckles.

“There are a lot of things in life that aren’t good for me,” said Slade in a low voice. He didn’t sound quite drunk yet, but he definitely didn’t sound sober either. It was as if he was teetering in between limbo, neither here nor there. The air within the room was filled with a terrible gloom, almost suffocating Dick in its clutches. The man took another sip from his glass, downing the rest of it.

“What’s wrong?” asked Dick, taking a step closer to the bed so that his legs touched the mattress. Slade put a hand to his forehead. Dick got the distinct impression that the man was extremely tired.

“You should leave.”

Dick could hear the endless grief within the man’s tone. There was a terrible sadness within that grey blue eye. It wavered in its steel strength. Filled within that grey blue was a sea of self hate and despair; sorrow beyond anything Dick had ever seen within that single orb. He remembered seeing a glimpse of it once or twice now with his interactions with the man, but this was at its greatest strength; the purest agony of loss.

Dick was suddenly overwhelmed with understanding. The man had lost someone in his life – who, Dick obviously didn’t know. But the fact remained that Slade had lost someone special in his life.

Who could’ve been so special to him that he would resort to drinking? Was today the anniversary of that someone’s death? Dick usually felt the same way about his parents’ deaths. Unfortunately, it also fell on the same day as his birthday.

Dick understood the pain. He knew and understood it all too well. It was terribly drowning it its strength, enough to suffocate him in its grip. It was enough to drag him down into the very depths of the darkness. It seemed as if Slade were no different. The man had lost someone special in his life and he deeply mourned their loss. The man was no different than Dick and that was beginning to become clearer and clearer to him every day.

Slade was human.

“I understand… sir,” whispered Dick. Slade dropped his hand to look at him; his bloodshot, grey blue eye narrowing slightly.

“Understand what?”

Slade’s voice was barely above a whisper as well. The air in the room seemed to completely still, the air becoming stifling. Dick ran his tongue over his lips, wetting them. His heart quickened lightly. He wasn’t sure what he was thinking, but the words floated away from him before he could hold them back.

“I understand a death of someone that you love.”

Slade watched him pensively for a long moment. Dick’s fingers curled at the edges of his t-shirt nervously. He wasn’t sure why he said it out loud. He didn’t really want to talk about his parents’ deaths, but it was obvious that Slade had experienced the same thing and Dick felt a strong need to pull the man out of his stupor; out of his sorrow. For some reason, Dick just did not like to see the man drinking.

Then, Slade’s chest rose as his visible eye widened in a fierce rage. Fear quickly slid down Dick’s back as he felt the total fury emanate from the man.

“Get out!” bellowed Slade. Dick jumped, completely startled by the man’s sudden change. He bit his lip, hesitating; but the man screamed at him again.

“Leave!”

Dick bolted, tearing out of the room and slamming the door behind him. A moment later, he heard a crash and the shattering of glass. His heart pounded furiously against his chest as he leaned against the door for a moment. He placed a hand on his heart, heaving in deep breaths of fright. Then, he slowly turned and walked to his room. He shut the door softly behind himself.

Dick went to his bed and laid down onto his stomach, curling the pillow beneath his arms.

Dick considered himself a sensitive person. He was easily empathetic to people’s feelings. When his friends hurt, he hurt. When they cried, he cried inside. He always wanted to lift others up from their pain. It was one of the reasons why he became Robin, so that he could protect others; protect others from the same kind of pain he experienced so early in life.

It was so strange that his heart was crying right now. It was crying over the death of someone he didn’t even know; not even that someone’s name. It felt torn at the thought that someone important had died. But the reasoning for its tears brought an even more shock to Dick’s system.

It was crying because Slade was crying.

Dick wasn’t sure when he was beginning to care whether or not Slade was in pain, but it was obvious that he did. When did that happen? How could that have happened? Slade was no one special to Dick, except being his captor, his arch-nemesis. When had Dick’s heart softened to the point that he would feel bad for Slade? Feel his heart ache at the man’s pain?

When had that happened?

It was dangerous to feel that way… Wasn’t it? The man was still unpredictable. How could Dick allow himself to feel closer to the man? Wasn’t that a surviving technique with one’s kidnapper? After all, wasn’t that just what Slade wanted? He wanted Dick to become his apprentice, his partner, his heir. That would mean Dick would stay by his side no matter what. If Dick grew emotionally attached, then it would be all that much easier for Slade to win.

Dick closed his eyes and lowered his face into his pillow.

But… Was there a winner and a loser here?

He didn’t want to become Slade’s apprentice. He didn’t want to work with the man; do what the man did for a living. But somehow, the man wasn’t scaring him as much. Slade seemed so normal at times. Dick sort of enjoyed it when the man taught him things – so long as it wasn’t guns. Slade was very careful with his teaching and explained things properly when Dick didn’t always understand them. The man was a very patient teacher, which surprised him.

Dick couldn’t understand it – the feeling rising within him. He had a very strong feeling that he no longer wanted Slade to be Slade the criminal; Slade the villain; Slade the assassin. He really just wanted Slade to be the man who taught him things. Somehow, he was desperately wishing that they weren’t ever Robin and Slade, Hero and Villain. But they were Richard and Slade, student and teacher.

Dick was conflicted and thoroughly confused. He had to stop thinking about this or else he would fall into insanity. He just wasn’t sure what to do today. He couldn’t bear the thought of being alone now. Honestly, he preferred the routine of study and combat practice. He didn’t like the interruption to the schedule. Or, at least, one where he wasn’t included in it.

Even Wintergreen had looked depressed today, which meant the old man probably knew who died.

Dick buried his face deeper into his pillow, unable to stop the tears from seeping from his eyes and into the fabric. His tears were for those who had passed; his parents and the unknown. His tears were for the bitter loneliness that he felt. Why was life so cruel sometimes? He couldn’t help but wonder if he and Slade had met under different circumstances that they just might’ve gotten along very well.

But the burden of being Slade’s captive was still on Dick’s shoulders. He still couldn’t forget that one simple snag in their tentative relationship. He was still trapped here. While he might be ‘getting along’ with the man at times, he was still a prisoner. But somehow, he wished he wasn’t – but not in the way of escaping. He truly wished he was free to come and go as he pleased.

It was as if he really wanted to get along with Slade as a person. He really wanted to release himself from the burden of being a hero. If he wasn’t a hero, then he could just learn from Slade; eat breakfast with him; talk about simple things; get praised by him. Had he grown so used to living with the man that he was beginning to need those little things in his daily life?

It wasn’t just that he enjoyed them, Dick felt that he needed certain things from the man. It was the strangest thing. Dick just couldn’t understand how he came to feel that way.

He lifted his face and began to wipe his tears away. He was going to ask Slade about the person who died. Maybe it had been a lover. Or maybe it had been someone in his family. Whoever it was, Dick was going to find out. He was going to find the courage and ask Slade straight out.

Hopefully, answers could come.

ooOOOOOoo

January 6th, 2009. Tuesday, 10:28 pm.

It took Dick a full week to bring up his courage. Everything went back to normal the very next day. It was like the depression that the household had experienced completely faded away; the oppressive, ominous air lifting. The following day had begun as it always did and Dick couldn’t quite bring himself to ask what had been wrong.

Who did Slade lose in his life? Was that the reason he did the things he did? Was it the hardships and the tragedies of life that had torn him down to become a criminal; mercenary; assassin?

Where was Slade’s heart? Who was Slade? Four months ago, Dick had been looking in all the wrong areas. The daily interaction was slowly painting the true picture of Slade; the pieces of the puzzle slowly placing themselves to reveal the true man that had lain hidden behind the steel metal mask.

Who had affected Slade’s heart so much that he would still mourn them?

Dick was too deep in thought. So, he wasn’t exactly paying attention at that very moment. Which probably was unwise, since he was currently sparring with Slade. Thus, he didn’t quite see the leg that was aimed for his stomach.

Oh, but he felt it.

The blow blasted him to the side; causing him to roll onto the floor. He bounced once on the ground before smashing into the nearby wall. He groaned; wondering temporarily what had just happened. He felt the presence of Slade next to him a moment later.

“Dick, are you all right?” asked Slade; a hint of concern seeped through his tone. “What happened? You completely zoned out.”

Strong hands helped Dick to sit up; one supporting his lower back and the other resting easily on his shoulder. Dick’s side was raging in pain from the kick. Usually Slade held back, but when he thought Dick was going to block a blow, he put more power into it. By the intense pain in his side, it was obvious that Slade had expected Dick to block that blow.

“I… got distracted…” said Dick, turning his head away.

“Why?”

Dick bit his lower lip. He wasn’t sure how to ask. It could be considered prying into Slade’s personal life. But Dick had felt something. He needed to know. He wanted to know why Slade was the way he was. He wanted to understand. For once in his entire life, he wanted to understand. He was tired of the line; he was tired of the separation that made Heroes heroes and Villains villains.

He was tired of black and white, light and dark, right and wrong, hero and villain; the dichotomies of life. What happened to just people and their choices?

“You’ve been out of it for days now,” continued Slade, sounding a bit exasperated. “You always seem deep in thought. What’s going on with you? Do you have something on your mind?”

Dick merely nodded; meekly sneaking a peek up at Slade to see the man’s reaction. Slade raised an eyebrow as if saying, ‘And?’

But when Dick couldn’t answer the man’s raised eyebrow, Slade sighed; shaking his head.

“Come on,” said Slade; grabbing Dick by the underarm and carefully pulling him to his feet. Dick winced in pain, his side protesting against the movement. “It’s obvious that you need a break.”

Dick didn’t argue with him as the man led him into the family room. He helped Dick take a seat before eyeing him carefully. The man jerked his head once while pointing to Dick’s shirt.

“Lift up your shirt. Let’s see the damage,” said Slade, kneeling down in front of Dick. He didn’t make any movements, only waiting for Dick to obey his command. Dick did so, hissing slightly as he moved his arms to lift his shirt up.

There were already a few light bruises from sparring the other day, but Dick could see the remnant of a large bruise appearing on his left side, his skin yellowing and turning blue from the harsh impact of Slade’s leg. A hand slowly moved towards the abused skin and gently pushed a few fingers onto it. Dick hissed as a wave of pain shot through the area.

“Well, I’m not sure if you have any broken ribs,” said Slade, removing his hand. “Does it hurt to breathe?”

Dick shook his head as he lowered his shirt back down.

“Do you want the serum?” asked Slade. “I don’t really want to give it to you for just pain, but if you can’t stand—”

“I’m okay, really. It’s not terrible,” said Dick quickly, lowering his shirt. The pain wasn’t that bad. He had dealt with bruises before. He could handle stuff like this. “I’ve had worse.”

Slade watched him with a heavy grey blue eye. Dick tried very hard not to squirm beneath that gaze. It was like the man was trying to analyze him carefully; strip away the layers of protection that Dick was trying to keep up. The man was beginning to read him better and better with every passing day. Of course, this also was the same for Dick. He was beginning to read the man very well, too, actually.

Slade took a decided breath and stood up smoothly. Dick watched him walk to the kitchen and begin to rummage through the cabinet for something. Dick turned away after a moment, staring down at his hands. He wasn’t sure how to voice his question and he really wasn’t sure how Slade would react to it. Would the man be angry for Dick’s prying?

Dick could hear Slade working in the kitchen; cabinets being closed, silverware being clinked, sink being used, microwave being run.

All the while, Dick was nervously wringing his hands in his lap. His thoughts were rampaging in his mind; flittering back and forth wildly. Why couldn’t he just work up his courage and ask? It wasn’t that hard, was it? It was just a question – not that hard. So, why was there this churning inside Dick’s stomach over it?

Dick sighed. He knew; he understood. Asking about the man’s past would bring up painful wounds, as it had been obvious that his past was painful. Someone had died, there was no doubt about that. Someone that Slade had cared about. Slade was definitely capable of being human; having a lover or someone in his life that had meant everything to him. Wintergreen was proof enough that Slade was capable of such things, being best friends with the old man. Slade was truly capable of caring; perhaps, even loving.

And the softness he sometimes displayed to Dick showed this as well, and he was displaying it more and more every day. There was no doubt about it: the man was more than he seemed.

Dick was pulled out of his thoughts as he felt the couch sag next to him. He looked over to see Slade setting two mugs and a bag of marshmallows onto the coffee table. Dick blinked, realizing that the mugs held hot chocolate.

Slade had made hot chocolate for them?

Dick looked at Slade curiously.

“All right, I’ll make you a deal,” said Slade as a wry smile began to lift his lips. “You talk about what’s going on in that head of yours and I’ll let you have as many marshmallows as you want.”

Dick blinked.

“Huh?”

“Come now, I think I was extremely clear,” said Slade with a smirk. “Surely you can understand English?”

“Well, yeah, but…” Dick trailed off and looked at the bag of marshmallows. It had been a long time since he had something like this. He meekly glanced back at Slade. “As many as I want?”

Slade chuckled. “Yes, the whole bag if you wish.”

Dick bit his lower lip, feeling a bit timid. “You… You won’t get mad at my question?”

“So long as you don’t ask for your escape, I think you’ll be fine,” drawled Slade.

Dick smiled impishly. “Will you let me go?”

“No.”

“Well, there ya go, then,” smiled Dick. He sobered quickly. “But that wasn’t my question.”

“I figured as much.”

Dick fidgeted slightly, wondering how to voice his question. Slade leaned forward and grabbed one of the mugs of hot chocolate; handing it to Dick. Slade grabbed the other one and then turned slightly on the couch so that he was facing Dick better.

Well, it was now or never.

“Do you remember… what happened last week?” asked Dick in a low murmur; bring the mug to his lips, but not taking a sip quite yet. Slade froze, his face hardening.

“Christmas, you mean?”

“No… a little after that,” whispered Dick, completely aware of the stiffened jaw that had come over Slade. There was a long moment before Slade gave out a long sigh.

 “Yes, I remember.”

Dick’s mouth went dry. He tried to swallow, but it just wasn’t happening. It was getting even harder to use his voice. He could feel it locked inside his throat, steadfastly refusing to voice itself at all. But then, it loosened.

“I just wanted to know… who you lost.”

There was a long moment of silence. Dick tried not to close his eyes nervously. Slade had said he wouldn’t get angry, so it would be all right. This was deadly personal and it wasn’t really any of Dick’s business. But there was a section inside his heart which argued that he was now part of whatever the three of them were now. Even if Dick went back to the Teen Titans at that very moment, a part of him would still be drawn back here. Around four months he had been living with the man and Dick felt an emotional connection with him. There was no denying that much; Dick felt something inside his heart.

Of course, he remembered who Slade was and what he did. But that still didn’t erase Dick’s feelings. He knew he could never fight against Slade in a battle of Heroes and Villains again – not like before. He could never really feel that unbending hatred that he had once felt for this man. No, there would always be a pull on Dick’s heart to try to work things out with Slade. He was growing to understand and beginning to trust the man more. But there was now an even deeper feeling inside Dick’s heart.

He wanted to help Slade.

“You actually want to know?” asked Slade finally, breaking the long silence.

“Yes,” nodded Dick. “I want to know.”

There was a low, smooth chuckle as Slade exhaled.

“Is that right?”

“Yes,” said Dick with a determined air. “I really want to know.”

Slade’s grey blue eye flashed with light once as he stared at Dick. Then, the man slid his gaze away as he turned it to the coffee table. A faraway look flittered through his features. He took a deep breath, his large chest swelling deeply before he let it out through his nose. He shot Dick a raised eyebrow.

“No interruptions, then,” said Slade, a firm light glittering in his eye.

“Yes, sir,” nodded Dick. “I mean—no, sir.”

There was another long sigh before Slade set his mug onto the coffee table, turning away slightly to face forward. Slade rested his elbows onto his knees, his fingers intertwined as he rested his chin on them.

“I told you a little bit about my days in the army,” said Slade, his voice soft. “I’m sure you remember. I left out the personal segments, though. Before I was promoted to Lieutenant Colonel, I met… a woman.”

Dick’s breath caught in his throat. Any movement – even breathing – seemed as if it would break the fragile air.

“Adeline Kane,” said Slade in a low undertone; his voice filled with reverence. “She was an instructor in the army – taught me a lot of what I know in armed combat. We were married about a year after I was promoted to Lieutenant Colonel. It was near the end of her pregnancy of our first child that I had volunteered for that medical experiment. I woke up from the coma after his birth.”

Dick’s eyes widened. Slade had a kid – a son? Slade had once been a… father? Dawning realization began to flood over Dick. Was that the reason Slade was so insistent on having an apprentice? Did the man just honestly want a son again?

But what had happened to his family?

Slade leaned his face into his hand, rubbing his one eye with his fingers while he lightly trailed over the black eye patch with his thumb.

“We had decided on the name Grant,” whispered Slade. He took another deep breath and let it out slowly. “About three years later, our second child was born, Joseph. He always went by Joey.”

Two sons?

“Then, about four years after Joey’s birth, we had our final; Sarah Rose, but we always just called her Rose.”

Slade was a total family man! Three kids? That’s nothing to sneeze at, considering the way people sometimes feel about having too many kids.

A few minutes passed in silence. Slade merely sat there with his face in his hand, obviously deep in thought and probably grief over some misfortune. Finally, Dick got up his courage to break the silence.

“Wh–what happened to them?”

There was a bitter, almost harsh, laugh.

“In one week, my family was literally decimated.”

Dick felt the blood drain from his face; his breathing stilling, almost suffocating him. Slade’s family had been… destroyed?

“And it was all my fault.”

The voice that whispered that statement sounded drowned in bitter sorrow and self hate. Dick’s eyes were wide as he listened carefully.

“Grant…” murmured Slade; there was a small shake of his head during a pause. “I had no idea what he was up to. I had been training him some, but I had no idea that he followed in my footsteps behind my back. How he kept it from me… to this day, I’ll never know.”

The hot mug in Dick’s hands was completely forgotten; the marshmallows completely forgotten.

“He took a contract, but somehow my enemies found out that he was the son of Deathstroke the Terminator.”

Slade shook his head.

“Stupid boy must’ve blabbed about it,” said Slade in a choking, bitter laugh. “Contract was a setup. Grant was shot and killed. Sent his body to me in a box. It wasn’t a pretty sight. He was… your age; fourteen. That was on a Friday, December twenty-ninth.”

He… was killed by Slade’s enemies? Was that why Slade blamed himself?

Dick’s heart fell inside his chest, thudding heavily. Slade’s son had been no older than him. Grant had been just a kid; just a child… Just like what Slade called Dick all the time. Fourteen was really young, if Dick thought about it. The age was too young for death.

How awful.

“I didn’t tell Addie right then,” said Slade, his voice turning soft. “She just assumed that he was visiting some friends. I didn’t know how to break it to her… the grief—”

Slade’s voice cracked slightly. It was a deep, low sound. He reached to the coffee table and took a sip of his hot chocolate before he set it back down. After a moment, he continued.

“But that Tuesday,” said Slade, his voice dropping lower. “The day before Rose’s eighth birthday, she was at her school having a little new year party with her classmates. Grant must’ve told them more about my identity than I thought. They planted bombs around the school… She was killed along with fifteen of her classmates.”

There was a silent intake of breath from Dick.

He lost two children in just mere days apart from each other? That’s so… Not to mention all those other families who lost their kids.

Dick’s heart broke right then and there. Two children. Slade had lost two children just days apart – a fourteen year old and a seven year old who would forever be stolen one day before her eighth. All because Slade had been targeted by his enemies.

Bitterness rose inside Dick’s chest. How could people be so cruel? Why was there so much terror and horror in people’s hearts? It was so similar to Dick’s situation. His parents had been murdered by evil people; Slade’s children had been murdered by evil people.

They truly were more alike than Dick had ever imagined.

“It was Wednesday that I got the letter,” continued Slade, his chest rising once in his deep breath. “Told me if I wanted to see my last child alive, then I had better come out to meet them. Addie was already in hysterics over Rose’s death. When I told her about Grant, it nearly set her over the edge. But when I told her about Joey… she completely lost control and it took me over an hour to calm her down.”

Slade let out a harsh chuckle.

“When I told her that Joey had been kidnapped by my enemies, the very enemies that I had created from the profession I had pursued – one that I had kept secret from her – she nearly killed me right then and there. But since I was needed to save Joey, she didn’t.”

Slade ran a hand over his face, taking another deep breath.

“Together, we met up with the kidnappers. They wanted some information from me on top of wishing to exact revenge against me. When I refused in my pride, I was too late to stop them from slicing through Joey’s throat – disabling him from speaking ever again. He was only eleven years old at the time. We managed to rescue Joey and then I destroyed the kidnappers. That was Thursday.”

Slade turned to look over at Dick, who wasn’t prepared for the man to suddenly look at him. Dick swallowed, hoping that he didn’t look as shocked and sorrowed as he felt. His eyes were burning terribly. Slade pointed to his black eye patch.

“Addie was so furious with me that she shot out my right eye. When I recovered due to my healing abilities, she was even more horrified with me. She took Joey away after he recovered and filed for divorce.”

Slade turned his gaze away from Dick and clasped his hands over his mug that was sitting on the coffee table. He leaned back onto the couch about a few inches away from Dick.

“Interestingly enough, my healing abilities don’t regrow obliterated body parts,” Slade added wryly, before bringing the mug to his lips and taking a sip.

The sorrow that Slade had expressed was now lifted; the general impassiveness that the man held now erected in its place. But it wasn’t for Dick. His heart was twisting, crying in agony for the man’s family – the terrible fate that fell all three of them. It was just so terrible; Dick’s eyes burned, wishing to mourn their loss.

All within a week.

Slade’s family had been completely destroyed – all in that short amount of time.

Dick bit his lips, trying to stop the trembling. Slade’s family had been torn apart just like his had been. Did Slade feel lonely for those old times with his family? Were those the nightmares that he awoke to as well – just like Dick did with his parents? How many sleepless nights had there been? How many times did he wish to hold one of his children? How many tears had been shed for the children that had been lost?

How many agonizing moments were endured in their absence?

Dick swallowed back the lump that was building up in his throat. His eyes were overbearing in their burning from his restraint on his tears. He hadn’t realized that Slade’s past would be so horrific. Losing a child had to be absolutely terrible, but to lose two and then never be able to see the third – that had to be horrible. Not to mention losing his wife, too – someone who had probably been the love of his life.

To be left behind – that was always the worst thing in the world.

“You know,” began Slade in a murmur, breaking Dick out of his thoughts. “You look a bit like Grant. He took after his mother – dark brown hair, but he had my eyes. Joey was the opposite – blond hair and her green eyes. Rose completely took after me with the blond hair and grey blue eyes.”

Slade took another sip from his mug.

Something fell inside Dick’s chest. It broke him from his sorrowed feelings, something new replacing them.

Somehow, he didn’t like being compared to Grant. Was he really just a replacement for Slade’s dead son? That thought just didn’t settle right inside Dick’s heart. For some reason, he didn’t want to be just a replacement. Was he getting that attached, perhaps? But that was dangerous. Slade was a criminal who would one day try to force Dick to become one, too.

Wouldn’t he?

But before he could stop himself, the words tumbled out of his mouth in a soft murmur.

“Am I just a replacement for Grant?”

Slade looked startled at this. He looked down at Dick, who didn’t look up. There was a long moment before Slade’s voice answered.

“No one can replace Grant,” said Slade, his voice low and smooth in a soft tone. “Just as no one can replace you, Dick. Even if Grant were still alive, I would’ve still chosen you to be my apprentice since you have such amazing potential.”

Dick couldn’t stop the warm glow that filled his heart at that. There was nothing more that could stop it. His emotions overflowed for a moment and a tear slipped down his cheek. Slade raised his eyebrow as he noticed this. But he didn’t say anything.

“I’m sorry about your family,” murmured Dick after a moment. Another tear slipped down his cheek.

Slade considered Dick with a soft eye for a few moments, before reaching over to him. The man’s fingers were warm from his mug as they touched the side of Dick’s face, making Dick turn his head slightly to look up at Slade. The man’s thumb wiped away his stray tear. Dick’s eyes widened in surprise from the gentle touch.

“There is no use in wallowing in the past,” said Slade softly, reverence filling his tone as he withdrew his hand. Dick could only nod his response, not confident in his voice at that moment. There was another quiet moment as Slade considered him.

“Besides,” began Slade in the softest whisper. “I have you now.”

Dick’s eyes widened even more at this. He couldn’t hold back – a soft, shy smile spread through his lips as he flitted his eyes downward towards his mug. It wasn’t his usual mischievous, feisty smile. But it was his first real, genuine smile that he had let cross his face ever since Slade had brought him here.

Slade had made him smile with just five simple words.

It scared him, briefly. But at that moment, he didn’t quite care. It had been a long time since he felt this happy and he was going to enjoy the sweet moment he felt in his heart.

Maybe… Just maybe… things would turn out a little better.

Dick was at peace for that moment. He knew and understood that he was still a captive. He wasn’t free – he was well aware of that. And yet, there was a freeness that flowed through his entire soul at those words. There was no logic to it and yet, at that moment, everything was all right. It seemed as if everything would be. His heart just knew it.

It was strange, this feeling of peace.

Was he feeling safe?

Surely not. But that was exactly what he was feeling as he allowed his eyes to droop closed. He was tired, warm, and comfortable; his soul blanketed in peace.

Slipping off to sleep just seemed so easy, so simple, so safe.

The boy was quiet after that. Slade was a bit surprised by his reaction. The child had smiled – actually smiled from the bottom of his heart. He looked content, perhaps even peaceful.

How peculiar.

Slade took another sip from his mug, contemplating the event that had just occurred. He was a bit surprised that Dick had the courage – well, mostly – to ask about his past family. He had seemed so sincere in his question. Slade hadn’t expected the boy to ever be interested in his enemy’s past like that.

Reliving the events of his past was not something Slade had really wanted to do, but since the boy looked so sincere in his request, Slade couldn’t deny him. But what was truly amazing was the boy’s reaction to it all. He looked so sorrowed, so broken by the tale. It was as if he were crying for Slade – which he did, even shedding a few stray tears there.

Just how soft was Dick’s heart?

Slade took another sip from his mug again when he felt a weight on his shoulder. With a raised eyebrow, he looked down at the boy that sat next to him.

What he saw shocked him.

Dick had fallen asleep, his head leaning against Slade’s arm. He was sleeping deeply, his chest rising and falling slowly with his breathing. He still held the mug in his hands, which was slipping dangerously to the side. Slade held back a chuckle as he gently extracted the mug from the loose grip of the boy before it could spill.

What an interesting turn of events.

Dick was becoming comfortable with him. How else could he allow himself to fall asleep in the presence of his ‘enemy’? After all, falling asleep in front of someone showed full and complete comfortableness; even, perhaps, great trust. The boy looked so peaceful and content in his sleep; the gentle, childlike features now fully apparent through his face.

A part of Slade wanted to wake the boy and send him off to bed, but the other part won and he held back. Instead, Slade set the mugs aside onto the coffee table, careful not to jostle the boy. Then, with a gentleness he hadn’t shown in years, he slipped his arms beneath Dick’s back and knees, lifting him into the air. Dick let out a low mewl in his sleep, but didn’t wake up. Slade wondered for a moment just how much Dick’s side really was hurting him. Then, the boy’s head and curled arms seemed to burrow into Slade’s chest.

Slade couldn’t hold back the smirk that was bordering on a genuine smile.

Slade quietly left the family room and walked up the stairs to the main floor. He took Dick to his bedroom, softly placing him onto the bed. More murmurs escaped Dick’s lips as he moved in his sleep. Slade covered him with the comforter and the murmurs stopped. After a moment of watching the boy, Slade found himself reaching down and brushing a few strands of hair from his sleeping face. Slade was surprised by the soft sigh that came from the sleeping boy as he seemed to lean towards the touch.

After a moment, Slade withdrew his hand; studying the boy for a moment longer. He looked so young, so childlike, so peaceful in his sleep.

Slade once again was coming to the realization that Wintergreen was right – yet again. Dick was an affection starved child. Slade smiled. He had Dick exactly where he needed him. The boy was beginning to really trust him; feel comfortable with him. It was only a matter of time before the boy was completely loyal to him.

And yet, while those words flowed through Slade’s conscious, something more was tugging deeper in his soul; pulling at his every section of his heart.

There was something so much more here and what, Slade was unsure.

ooOOOOOoo 

Keep Reading –>