Forgotten Bonds – Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Two
Christmas at the Haunt

December 20th, 2008. Saturday, 11:43am.

Dick tapped his pencil on the edge of his paper. His expression was in deep concentration as he worked. His leg bounced, rapidly bopping up and down endlessly.

It was thoroughly irritating.

Slade had told the boy to hold still, countlessly; but back again it would start – that incessant bouncing was enough to drive anyone mad. How many times did Slade have to tell the boy to hold that blasted leg still already?

“Dick, for the last time. Hold still,” said Slade, rubbing a hand over his face, completely exasperated. Dick blinked and the annoying bouncing ceased – finally.

“Oh… Sorry, sir.”

“Mmmm…” murmured Slade. He glanced at the clock that was on the kitchen wall. The written test he was giving Dick would be over in just two minutes. Afterwards, they’d have about a half an hour until lunch.

Dick put his mechanical pencil beneath his nose, holding it temporarily with a protruding upper lip as he studied his paper.

That blasted bouncing was beginning again.

“Time,” said Slade; a minute earlier than was actually so. Dick sighed with relief as he handed the two test papers to Slade. The boy leaned back against his chair, balancing the pencil beneath his nose as he stared up at the ceiling; his arms dangling lazily at his sides.

Slade glanced at the two papers; back to back as well for a total of four test pages. At just a mere glance, Slade could tell that Dick only had fifty percent of the answers correct – which was extremely unusual for the boy. He knew all this stuff by now. Dick was exceptionally intelligent after all – one of the prodigies to grace the world with his presence.

So, why the terrible work right now?

“Fifty percent,” said Slade, tossing the papers back at the boy. Dick groaned; the pencil sliding to the floor as he collapsed his forehead to the kitchen table with a dull thump.

If that—now those—blasted bouncing legs had anything to say… Well, Slade had his answer.

Stir crazy.

Normally, Slade would force the boy to correct his mistakes, but it was obvious that they just weren’t going to get anywhere at that moment. Something was off with the boy this morning. Perhaps too much energy? Dick rolled his head back and forth on the surface of the table.

Ah, well.

“Lunch is soon,” said Slade. “Until then, go take a break, amuse yourself, or whatever.”

Dick’s head popped up.

“R–really?”

Slade leaned an elbow onto the table, resting his head in his hand, and did a flittering motion with the fingers of his free hand.

“Really. Go, before I change my mind.”

The boy let out a whoop and bolted to his feet. He darted to the basement door, nearly tearing it open, before he ran down the stairs. Why Slade had the fleeting desire to shout that the boy go slower, so he wouldn’t trip down those stairs, he didn’t know. But he quickly squashed it. Dick was an acrobat – he wasn’t going to trip. Please. What a foolish thought.

Slade sighed, rubbing his face with his hand.

Things… were getting better. Over fourteen weeks now. But it was the past ten weeks that truly mattered. Since promising Dick that he wouldn’t beat him, things had gotten a thousand fold better. It took time for the boy to stop looking so nervous around Slade, but now he was slowly getting used to the change – slowly beginning to trust that Slade would keep his word.

The boy was also opening up to Slade a lot more. He wasn’t so skittish around him. The boy was also more obedient and less willful. Slade hadn’t had to fully punish the boy for a few weeks now; well, there were those more than occasional reprimands needed for back talk, but the boy did pretty well. He was a boy, after all.

Slade was also deeply aware of the boy’s need for casual physical affection. Moments when the boy seemed to get worked up over something, whether it be stress or otherwise, a simple clasp on the shoulder usually calmed him down. It was the most perplexing thing to Slade, but he did it anyway since it worked.

Slade was also noticing something else.

The spitfire and defiance that the boy had possessed while behind the mask of Robin had dimmed slightly. Yes, it was still there and the boy was still extremely hot headed at times or was quick to assume things, but much of the time, he was meek and submissive. There was also an intense softness, even kindness to the boy. Slade hadn’t counted on such a difference. He had to wonder if the boy had really created an alter ego complete with stronger personality traits. There were quite a few differences at times, but not too much. Subtle differences like when the boy ducked his head at times when he was nervous or embarrassed.

But no matter which ego the boy took on, whether it was Robin or Dick Grayson, he was still the same boy with fire, spirit, and intelligence.

One who had seemed to have taken to his fate rather well. There were no talks about escape. He didn’t seem to be simmering in anger like he had been the first few weeks. He was very content and, at times, seemed happy. The boy didn’t even fight on anything he was taught – except the gun education, but that had become mere whimpers and whines now.

That had definitely been a setback, the boy’s phobia with guns; but Slade was more annoyed that the event had happened to the boy. It irritated him that Batman had allowed such a thing to happen. Slade might be an assassin, but he had his limits when it came to women and children. And it was sheer stupidity that had gotten that boy shot. Then again, who was Slade to talk? He had his own terrible mistakes that haunted his past.

But if that stupid bat hadn’t been so stubborn, the boy could’ve avoided such a traumatizing experience. Of course, it would also have meant that it would’ve been that much harder to spirit Robin away from the nest.

Still…

No, he was not concerned with the boy’s mental welfare. Well, he was; but only for his apprentice’s welfare. That was all. Of course, that was all. A healthy, content apprentice was an apprentice that did his job and learning well. Yes, Slade very much wanted to keep the boy healthy. He could go years without having to experience the Boy Wonder of Holy Terror again.

Years.

Slade didn’t look up as he heard Wintergreen come into the room from the basement.

“How did he do?” asked Wintergreen as he began to rummage in the fridge. Slade glanced down at the test papers before swiping his face once more with his hand.

“Poorly.”

Wintergreen stopped, straightening as he looked back at Slade with a worried expression.

“Did he really? Isn’t that unusual?”

“Indeed,” nodded Slade. “That’s why that stir crazy boy is off doing whatever he’s doing at the moment.”

“Ah, so that’s why he’s playing on the high bar right now.”

“Is he? Good, he’ll burn off that extra energy.”

Wintergreen looked pleased and he continued to pull out ingredients for tortillas; placing cheese, avocados, tomatoes, salsa, and flour tortillas onto the countertop.

“Well, that was nice of you.”

“Mmm.”

“You know,” began Wintergreen amiably. “Christmas is just around the corner. Maybe you ought to do something nice for the child.”

“You know I hate this time of year, more than ever now,” said Slade with a deep frown. His eye narrowed suddenly as he looked over at Wintergreen. “You aren’t thinking of doing anything… are you?”

“Oh… No more than usual,” said Wintergreen with a lilt in his voice.

“Will, I’m warning you—”

“Slade,” started Wintergreen, cutting him off quickly as he turned to face him. “Richard is a fourteen year old child who doesn’t have any family and is away from his friends. What do you think he’d be doing if he were with them?”

“I’m not doing this with you, Will,” said Slade, standing up from the table. He turned away to leave, but Wintergreen quickly blocked Slade with his body; his arms folded as he stared at him. Slade sighed deeply and turned his head to the side. This blasted old man could be so annoying sometimes. It wasn’t as if his body could really stop him. But offending the old man didn’t have pleasant aftereffects.

Slade sighed at sharp look in the old man’s eyes and relented.

“He’d be doing some kind of Christmas cheer crap, I have no doubt.”

“Something to that effect,” said Wintergreen, smiling slightly. “And just what else would he be doing?”

“Will—”

“Oh, come on; this isn’t rocket science, Slade. Just answer the question.”

“You are completely infuriating sometimes,” snapped Slade, glaring at the old man. “You know that, right?”

“That’s not the correct answer.”

Slade took a deep breath, trying very hard not to lose his temper. This was ridiculous. Totally and infuriately ridiculous.

“He’d be exchanging gifts, I’m sure.”

“Well, then; why not get the child a gift?”

Slade let out a scoffing laugh. “What exactly am I to say to the boy? ‘Here, thanks for spending Christmas with us?’ Will, it’s not like he wants to be here. He’s just accepted the fact that he can’t get away.”

“Well, isn’t that what you’re trying to do? Make him want to stay?”

“I am not going to bribe him. This is absolutely ridiculous,” said Slade, turning his gaze away.

Besides, what on earth could I give the boy? It’s not like he doesn’t have his needs provided for already. What else is there for him? What, a teddy bear? Please.

“Well, you did with your other three children,” said Wintergreen with a light shrug, a mischievous smile tugging at the edge of his mouth. “I honestly don’t see why you can’t with your fourth.”

“Will!” snapped Slade, affronted. “He’s not my child!”

“Oh? I keep forgetting that… You know my memory—”

“Oh, your memory is just fine. Don’t try to pull your ‘old man’ side on me now,” said Slade, his eye glinting dangerously.

“Well, he most certainly is a child and you do have him in your possession,” countered Wintergreen, that annoying smile still tugging on his wrinkled lips. He began to look thoughtful as he continued, “Put those two together… Wouldn’t that make him your child?”

Slade shook his head, not even bothering to dignify that with an answer.

“Why are you doing this, Will?”

“I think it’ll be good for the child. Christmas to children is a very magical, special time,” said Wintergreen. Slade tried very hard not to scoff at this, but it slipped through anyway. “Look, if you’re really trying to sway him towards your ways, you should try to make life seem normal. This would really make things far more familiar between the two of you. If you think about it, you’re going to be living with him for a long time if he becomes your heir. Might as well set up some traditions with him that could bring the two of you closer.”

Slade scoffed again, shaking his head; unable to believe what he was hearing. “This is just ridiculous.”

“You know,” began Wintergreen thoughtfully, a sly smirk spreading across his face. “Antarctica is beautiful this time of year. Maybe I should press your tux and you can go visit family.”

“Excuse me?”

“I’m sure you’ll fit right in with the penguins. You’ll definitely walk like them…”

“That’s blackmail, Will.”

“It’s the only way I have at getting to you,” said Wintergreen with a deep set smile.

“I’ll do my own laundry, then,” said Slade stiffly.

“Ah, but can you find the laundry detergent?” asked Wintergreen, a wry smile lifting his wrinkled lips. Slade growled. He crossed his arms as he glared at the old man.

“You’re impossible, you know that, right?”

“No more than you are,” replied Wintergreen with a light shrug. “Come on, Slade. I’ll be going out tomorrow and I’ll get a few festive things to make this place a little more pleasant. Why don’t you think about something you could give to the boy and I’ll get it for you.”

“I wasn’t ever good at this in the first place,” argued Slade; running a frustrated hand through his hair. “What makes you think I’ll be good at it now?”

“It’s the thought that counts.”

“I swear, if I ever hear that phrase one more time…”

“While Richard does possess a lot of Grant’s qualities, not to mention his appearance, I think his personality is more like Joseph’s. Why don’t you think along those lines?”

Slade turned his head away. Something more like Joey… Grant was always one for hunting gadgets or new weaponry. He was relatively easy to please. Joey, on the other hand, was much more sensitive. He always appreciated gifts that came from the heart.

Wonderful…

A gift from the heart? Good grief, what next? Wintergreen had better not ask him to gather around a Christmas tree and sing carols. No way on this earth that was happening in his house. Over his dead body, no. Luckily, if Wintergreen somehow got that into his senile head, there was certainly nothing stopping Slade from setting the offensive foliage on fire.

Could always use the firewood, after all.

Well, Slade knew what to give Joey. He had been into art and music from a very young age. But Dick… the boy was completely different. What would he appreciate? Slade hadn’t ever seen him into art, but that very much might not be true. He was very driven when it came to his studies, but since Slade was very aware that he had already graduated from high school at such an early age, getting him supplies along those ends was basically useless.

So, that won’t work.

Hmm…

Dick was a sentimental boy, there was no doubt about that. Only two weeks into his capture and the boy had actually come to thank Slade for returning some of his personal belongings. Slade had gathered the contents easily, but it had taken him some time to make sure he had what he wanted. His music system and gaming system had been easy to find, but it was the more personal effects that Slade had been truly searching for. It took him about ten minutes before he found the jewelry box. It was definitely a woman’s item, but old.

Slade had assumed that it must’ve belonged to the boy’s mother.

Thus, he took that as well. But what had surprised Slade was the stuff animal that had been buried in the back of his closet – carefully set, though. It was merely hidden from prying eyes, but kept safe. It was old with faded coloring and matted fur, yet held a soft appearance. Slade had vaguely wondered if it belonged to a sister, but he immediately knew that wasn’t the case. So, it had to belong to the boy.

Which was so strange to Slade. Why would Dick keep something like that? It was just a ratted old toy – specifically for a little child; a girl, even. Slade had never imagined that Dick would be the type to hold onto such things, but here Slade was proven wrong. It must’ve have been extremely special to the boy; thus, once again, he had decided to bring that as well.

And the boy had been truly thankful for those things; items that had belonged to him, but because they were brought to him out of kindness, Dick noticed the gesture and greatly appreciated it.

Slade took a deep breath and nodded to Wintergreen.

“I’ll think about it,” said Slade in an even tone. He pushed past Wintergreen without another word, walking down the hallway to reach his room. He closed the door behind himself and locked it. What he was about to do, he wanted no interruptions nor did he want Wintergreen or the boy to walk in on him.

Slade knew exactly what he was going to do.

ooOOOOOoo

December 24th, 2008. Wednesday, 3:12pm.

Dick was lying on his bed with his hands behind his head as he stared up at the ceiling, deep in thought. It was really strange thinking of spending Christmas here. But there wasn’t any Christmas decorations or any festive music. It just felt like any other day and not Christmas Eve.

Dick had mixed feelings on the whole matter. It wasn’t like he wanted to have a ‘Merry Christmas’ with Slade. But it felt weird not celebrating it. Christmas was a special, even sacred time of the year to Dick. It was a time where people seemed to be just a little nicer, just a little kinder, and just a little more generous. It was Dick’s favorite time of the year, in fact.

Christmas had always been a special time for the Grayson home. Mary had strong traditions, especially due to her beliefs. Mary dealt with the spiritual side of the season, while John dealt with the major festivities. It had been a delightful time. Dick could still remember listening to his mother reading him the Christmas story on Christmas Eve by the dim light of the living room; where the twinkling lights of the Christmas tree were the only source for light. Yet Mary always managed to read perfectly.

It had been a tradition that he carried over with his friends last year.

His father would tell him stories about Santa Claus and Dick loved hearing them over and over again. They always told about a hero who sacrificed himself for the greater good – to lift someone else up to bring happiness to their hearts. Dick always wanted to aspire to become someone like that. He adored those times.

So, when Dick spent his first Christmas at Wayne Manor, it had been a completely different feeling. When Dick had asked what Santa Claus would get Bruce, he was told that there was no Santa Claus. Dick remembered Alfred scolding Bruce for telling him that. The whole situation just made future Christmases awkward for Dick. But there was no doubt that they had been nice and Dick always received lots of presents.

But to be honest, Dick didn’t really care about gifts. He really cared about the special feelings that came with the season. It wasn’t about the gifts; it was about sharing traditions with your loved ones and bringing smiles to others.

Dick rolled onto his side, so that he was facing the white wall. He rested his arm beneath his head. He didn’t really have any loved ones left in his life, except for his friends. He deeply cared for Bruce and Alfred, too; but if Dick was completely honest with himself, he was alone in the world. He was an orphan without any family. He might be Richard Grayson, but the only reason anyone knew his name was because he was taken in by Bruce Wayne. People would’ve long forgotten the Flying Graysons.

Life was feeling strange to Dick. It was weird that he felt so accepting of his situation. But it wasn’t like he could escape. Not even the walls could be blown up – not that he ever planned on testing it again. Slade had been right; he could’ve hurt Wintergreen in the blast. Dick hadn’t been thinking straight when he threw that explosive and he was thankful that no one got hurt – besides the terrible beating Slade had given him.

That first month now seemed like a blur to Dick. All he could remember were inconsistency, pain, and fear. Now with Slade attempting to be more patient and more… Well, whatever you called his new discipline plan – life seemed almost…

Normal.

Well, as normal as life could get being the captive of a sadistic, criminal psychopath.

Dick would say that, but it didn’t feel that way any more. Slade felt more human to Dick. The man ate breakfast and read the newspaper a lot. He chuckled. He teased. He was patient. He nursed Dick back to health even when he was a royal pain in the butt – Dick admitted it.

And sometimes he was soft.

He was doing it more. Just a simple clasp on the arm or shoulder. It was always in a reassuring and non-threatening way. There was nothing Dick could do to stop the calm that flowed through him after such a touch. It always made him feel just a little better.

The more Dick thought on it, the more he realized that he really was settling into the mindset of never being free from here. It gave him mixed feelings. Since Slade really was becoming normal – even though he was stern and demanded total obedience – Dick found himself unable to fight against him. He didn’t want to any more. He almost wished that he could have both lives.

If he had to stay here, he’d at least like to see his friends sometimes. He knew they must be frantic with worry.

But it just wasn’t possible. Dick knew he couldn’t ask for the impossible. But he couldn’t help but imagine what it’d be like to have both lives. How strange it would be. The Boy Wonder being trained by Slade the assassin. Dick would probably be able to take down his enemies far greater now with the intense training he’d been receiving the past few months.

But it wasn’t like that’d ever happen.

Nonetheless, he felt a desire to make life feel a little more normal. He needed normalcy in this situation, now more than ever. But what could he do? Ask Slade if they could do something different for Christmas? Dick honestly didn’t feel like getting laughed at right to his face. He had no doubt that the man would fully and completely break out into full blown laughter over that request.

So, instead… What could Dick do to make it seem a little more like Christmas? Even with the smallest thing; something that would bring a little joy to the place.

Dick supposed there was always a gift. But there was no way he had any way of getting anything or preparing anything. He obviously couldn’t leave this place. He doubted Slade would be interested in anything like a little piece of writing. His mother always appreciated his poems or stories when he wrote them for her – no matter how silly or stupid they were from a tiny child. He had some skills in drawing, but he wasn’t too grand or anything; and once again, he doubted Slade would be interested in something like that.

There was one thought that came to his mind, but he quickly squashed it. No way; it was a childish thought. Only little kids or lazy teens ever gave those out. How embarrassing to even think of such a thing.

Dick rolled onto his back and stared up at the ceiling. Well… it was the thought that counted, wasn’t it? It was pretty childish, though. But if Dick put things in it that he knew would please Slade… Then, Dick supposed that he might’ve made his point with the gift. And he could even make one for Wintergreen, too.

Dick bit his lower lip.

What would he put inside? He didn’t really want to put anything that would come back and force him to do something that he didn’t want to.

Dick rolled back over onto his side, this time facing the interior of his room. His eyes laid their sights upon the desk table in his room. He bounced his leg nervously; biting his lower lip.

Then, he bolted up and was at the desk in a moment; pulling out multiple sheets of paper, a pen, scissors, and a stapler from the desk drawer. There he began to decide what he’d write.

ooOOOOOoo

December 25th, 2008. Thursday, 1:22am.

The Christmas tree lights were twinkling merrily. Small baubles decorated the large Christmas tree that stood in a corner near the large window that expanded the main room of Titans Tower. The glass baubles danced with light as it reflected against their glimmering surfaces.

Beast Boy sat on the couch, on the end that was closest to the tree. He laid over the arm of the couch, his arms folded beneath him as he rested his chin on them. His deep green eyes took in the lights; his sight never wavering as they continued to stare at the glittering tree. There was a plethora of emotions that were running through his young teen mind. His thirteenth birthday had come and went, but he didn’t feel older.

In fact, he felt far younger than he’d ever had in his entire life.

Christmas was supposed to be a fun time. It was filled with presents and Santa Claus, and even last year, he remembered Robin telling them the story about the very first Christmas. It had been a very special time for Beast Boy. He never really had nice Christmases before when he was part of the Doom Patrol. Mostly because the leader and Beast Boy’s guardian, Mento, never thought it was a good use of time.

The first Christmas with the Titans, Beast Boy’s friends, had been the very first real Christmas he’d had since his parents had died and he gained his powers. That Christmas with his friends had been a joyous one, but also a special one. Robin seemed more than just their leader; that night, on Christmas Eve, he had shown such a gentle side to his nature that Beast Boy had never seen; a peace beyond anything, which penetrated Beast Boy’s very heart.

He missed that this year.

What was Robin doing at that very moment? Was he okay? Was he thinking about them? Was he thinking about the past? Was Slade hurting him now, even during this, the season of redemption? Was there still hope, even now after nearly four months without their friend?

Would they ever see Robin again?

Would he be changed forever?

Beast Boy let out a forlorn sigh that was alien to his usual self. It was Christmas Eve – really Christmas Day now – but it didn’t feel like it. The others had long gone to bed, but Beast Boy hadn’t been able to sleep. Their Christmas celebration just didn’t feel the same without Robin.

Tiny tears began to seep from Beast Boy’s eyes. He quickly buried his face into his arms; his thin shoulders beginning to shake as he tried to stop, but he found he couldn’t. It had been so long since he had cried. Crying was for babies—he couldn’t cry.

And yet, there he was, his shoulders shuddering, his nose sniffling, the tears ever flowing – he couldn’t stop.

A gentle hand touched the back of his neck. He stiffened and sat up, surprised and slightly embarrassed at being caught when he was crying. Starfire sat down on the couch next to him, keeping her hand on his upper back as she looked at him with gentle eyes.

“Cannot sleep?”

Beast Boy did a quick swipe over his face, spluttering slightly; trying to erase all evidence that he had been crying.

“I–I–I—”

“Oh, it is okay, Beast Boy,” murmured Starfire; gently, but firmly wrapping her arms around the small boy and pulling him into her chest; his chin resting on her shoulder. “You do not have to cry alone.”

Beast Boy’s eyes scrunched slightly as the burning there intensified. He quickly shut them as another wave of tears flooded from them. He swung his arms around Starfire and hung onto her as his shoulders began to tremble terribly. His head ducked into her shoulder as he cried harder; all the while hating the fact that he was so young that he couldn’t control these powerful feelings of helplessness.

“Is BB all right?” came the quiet whisper of Cyborg. Beast Boy stiffened inside Starfire’s arms, but she tightened them around him and began to slowly stroke his head.

“He shall be,” whispered Starfire. A moment later, there was the sound of Cyborg taking a seat on the couch nearby. Beast Boy felt a large hand begin to softly ruffle his spiky hair.

“Hard day, huh, BB?”

Beast Boy could only nod his head; unable to bear looking up at his friend. He hated being the weakest of the group. He should be comforting the others, not needing comfort himself. He was supposed to be growing up; he was thirteen now – that was nearly an adult!

“Scoot over.”

Beast Boy’s tear filled eyes widened at the sound of Raven’s voice. Oh, gosh. Raven was gonna make fun of him – there was no doubt in Beast Boy’s mind. In her dry, deadpanned humor, she was going to say something.

“Beast Boy, scoot your green butt over,” said Raven, her voice more insistent; a hand tapping on his shoulder.

“Perhaps it would be better—”

“I want to sit on the end. Move over, Beast Boy.”

Beast Boy lifted his head, pulling out of Starfire’s arms to see Raven standing next to the arm of the couch. She looked a little irritable, but there was a faint expression of awkwardness that was hinted there. Beast Boy could feel Cyborg moving back along the couch slightly. Then, Starfire did the same, drawing Beast Boy with her as she moved. Just as the spot cleared, Raven plopped into the tight area.

“Thank you,” said Raven, obviously avoiding her gaze from Beast Boy. Then, without further ado, she leaned against Beast Boy’s back. Thus, Beast Boy found himself surrounded by the two girls; in the arms of one and supported by the other in her own strange way. Finally, Cyborg was nestled right beside Starfire, giving Beast Boy a soft smile.

Beast Boy ducked his face, so that it was hidden by Starfire’s curtain of red hair.

“It doesn’t feel like Christmas,” whispered Beast Boy, after a few moments of quiet. “Not without Robin.”

He felt Starfire’s arms tighten once when Beast Boy brought up the one person they all missed; the one they all worried for; the one they all were frightened for – Robin. No one spoke at his mentioning of him, each buried in their own mind, in their thoughts, wondering how this day was treating their leader, their buddy, their friend.

“We should do something that reminds us of Robin, something that he would want us to do,” said Starfire finally.

“I think that’s a good idea, Star,” replied Cyborg, his voice quiet.

“I remember the story Robin told us,” whispered Starfire, her voice dropping to a tender tone. “It was the first time I had ever heard it, for on my home planet, we have no such things.”

Beast Boy pulled back slightly, jostling Raven, who grumbled under her breath behind him.

“You can remember it?”

“Yes,” said Starfire with a kind smile. “Shall I tell it now?”

“Go for it, Star,” said Cyborg, smiling as well. “We’d love it if you retold the story – for Robin.”

With another smile, Starfire placed a hand on the back of Beast Boy’s head and pulled him into her arms again. Raven rested against Beast Boy’s back, while Cyborg leaned closer from behind Starfire. The four of them were clustered together, barely a sliver of space between any of them; each soaking up the kind, gentle warmth from the other.

“A long, long time ago,” began Starfire softly; gently stroking the back of Beast Boy’s head. “Came a degree that all the world should be taxed.”

“By Caesar Augustus,” put in Cyborg with a confident smile.

“Yes,” smiled Starfire. “Thus, began the start of the greatest story…”

Beast Boy closed his eyes as Starfire’s voice retold the story that Robin had narrated one year ago. Connected by a voice, connected by a single story, Beast Boy could only wish that Robin felt the connection in some form. Hopefully Robin could feel the same warmth that they were at that the very moment, surrounded by friends and offering what strength they could to the other.

Beast Boy made a mental note to return the favor one day.

It was very soon that Beast Boy’s mind drifted into sleep; gently lulled by Starfire’s kind and tender voice – connecting them all together in a single thread of hope.

ooOOOOOoo

December 24th, 2008. Wednesday, 9:34pm.

“What’s going on?”

“No, no, child; keep your eyes closed.”

“But—”

There was an aged sigh and Dick felt a strip of cloth cover his eyes, being tied in the back of his head.

“There, now I know you won’t peek.”

Dick wasn’t sure what was going on. He had been called by Wintergreen into the kitchen. Before he left his room, he had pocketed his two gifts that he had made for the two men. But the moment he entered the kitchen, Wintergreen had told him to close his eyes.

Something strange was going on.

“What’s going on?” asked Dick, a little more insistent this time. He felt disoriented without his eyes open. He didn’t like the unsure feeling that was rising in his stomach. He needed something to anchor him.

Then, he felt a hand take him by the wrist. Somehow, Dick knew whose hand it was; recognizing its large size and warmth – and through that, the uncertainty inside Dick’s chest began to settle down.

“You’ll find out,” came Slade’s smooth voice.

Thus, Dick felt himself being led away. He could tell he was being pulled towards the stairs down into the basement.

“Watch your step.”

Further confusion entered Dick’s mind as he carefully walked down the steep stairs. Soon, he felt the stairs turn before he continued down more; Slade’s hand steadying him and leading him. Then, Dick felt hard concrete basement floor touch beneath his socked feet.

“Now what?” asked Dick. There was silence as he felt himself being led through the room. He couldn’t imagine what the heck was going on. This hadn’t ever happened before. Why did this seem like… the two men were showing him a surprise…

Wait, what? No way. No way Slade would—

The blindfold was removed from Dick’s eyes.

“You may open them now,” said Slade.

Dick slowly opened his eyes, in the which they widened considerably. He was looking through the open door of the living room. In the corner near the kitchen area was a semi large Christmas tree. It was adorned with colorful twinkling lights. Dick stepped into the room before he turned to look back.

Slade was standing behind him with a slight uncertain expression on his face, while Wintergreen was smiling broadly. Then, Wintergreen entered the room and patted Dick on the back.

“We can decorate the tree together. Sound fun?”

Dick could only nod, too overcome by it all. He received a smile from Wintergreen before the old man went to the tree. He placed a box of decorations onto the countertop, along with a tall bottle of wine that he had retrieved from the cabinet.

Dick was shocked; floored beyond imagination. He looked up at Slade, trying to study the man and unlock any secrets or answers that he might hold for this strange phenomenon. As if Slade had sensed Dick’s questions, he spoke up.

“Will mentioned something about Christmas and you know how he gets,” said Slade, looking hesitant. The man rubbed the back of his neck with a hand for a moment. “There’s no stopping him once he gets something into that stubborn mind of his.”

Dick smirked lightly.

“So, you really are a Scrooge after all.”

Dick received a raised eyebrow for that. Before the man could answer back, Dick quickly pulled out the gift he had prepared. The papers got a little ruffled from being inside his pocket, so he straightened them out as best as he could, before slowly handing the stapled strips of paper to the man.

Slade looked a little surprised, but he accepted it.

“What’s this?”

Dick tried not to let his face flush and redden at the childish nature of the gift, so he attempted to shrug it off.

“Just a little gift…”

Now Slade looked completely startled.

“Um… It’s not like I could get something, so I decided on the only thing that you’d like. It’s really stupid, but… I guess it’s the thought that counts, you know.”

As Slade continued to stare at him with a widened eye, Dick couldn’t help the warmth that continued to flood into his face. The gift was honestly embarrassing, but it showed that he was willing to get along with the man and not just because he controlled everything. The last time he had given a gift like this, it had been when he was a little kid and it had been to his mother.

Slade looked down at the gift as Dick watched. Dick knew what was on the cover. It said, ‘Request Booklet’ – there wasn’t enough money in the world to pay Dick to write ‘Coupon Book’. As Slade looked through the seven pages, including the cover, the man’s expression changed from shocked to a soft smile; an unknown, powerful emotion glittering inside that steel grey blue eye. At times, amusement flittered through his expression.

Dick had written six things that he’d promise to do when presented with one of the sheets of paper. One of them he had even said that he’d shoot a gun at a target. A non-human, non-animal – living or dead – target; not to mention a target that didn’t resemble such things either. He knew he had to cover all his bases with the man. Others dealt with perfect obedience; however, this excluded killing, shooting, stealing, or anything that would break the laws of the land or put people into harm’s way.

Once again, Dick made very sure he covered any loopholes that Slade could potentially worm through. But, nonetheless, he did hope Slade would appreciate the effort.

Slade let out a deep chuckle as he came to the last page. He closed the booklet and placed a hand onto Dick’s shoulder; a smile spreading through his face.

“Thank you,” said Slade, approval flooding through his tone. Dick smiled, soaking it all in. He loved doing stuff like this – making others happy. At that moment, it didn’t matter who Slade was, so long as Dick had been able to make another human being happy.

“I also made one for Mr. Wintergreen,” said Dick, pulling out the other one. Wintergreen’s booklet was the same size and included things that Dick could do to help the old man with his housework.

“I’m sure he’ll appreciate it,” said Slade, squeezing Dick’s shoulder once, before he removed his arm. Then, he ruffled Dick’s hair roughly before completely withdrawing his hand. Afterwards, Dick walked over to the old man, smiling to himself and wondering just how messed up his hair must be at that moment. Wintergreen was unpacking a box and unwrapping tissue paper from some glass ornaments. He stopped as Dick approached.

“Mr. Wintergreen, this is for you,” said Dick, feeling a little nervous as he handed the slightly rumpled booklet to the old man. Wintergreen accepted it.

“Well, this is a surprise. Oh, my… Thank you, you dear child,” said Wintergreen as he began to look at the gift. A deep smile lifted his entire face as he read the booklet. Once he was finished, the old man looked up at him and swiftly pulled Dick into a hug. Dick stiffened in shock for a moment, completely unnerved by the sudden show of affection from the old man. But then, Dick smiled and lifted his arms to return it. It felt nice; something he always missed and never could get enough of. This was a wonderful gift in itself.

It was a brief hug, though, and Wintergreen pulled back to clasp a hand on Dick’s cheek for a quick moment.

“You are such a sweet boy, you know that, right? So thoughtful.”

Dick blushed, feeling embarrassed that the old man was gushing like this. It was just a silly little cou—request booklet; not much, really.

“It wasn’t much, sir,” mumbled Dick, ducking his head slightly. The hand withdrew finally.

“You may… call me Will,” said Wintergreen with a smile. Dick lifted his head and returned the favor.

“Thanks, Will,” said Dick, shyly testing it out. Then, he tried to offer the same in the hopes that the old man would stop referring to him as a child. “You can call me Dick or Richard, if you want.”

The old man smiled.

“We’ll see.”

Dick let a soft smile spread his lips, figuring the old man was probably a tougher nut to crack than Slade. He turned for a moment to look at the tree. The lights were like little stars in his eyes, twinkling happily.

“Thank you for the gift.” Before Dick could turn back to look at Wintergreen, the old man continued, “I’ll be sure to put it to good use… Richard.”

Dick looked at the bottom of the tree, a wider smile spreading through his face. He felt acknowledgement flow through him, as if the old man calling him by his name made him feel that Wintergreen had finally acknowledged him – even though the old man probably had since the first day.

“Dick, come sit on the couch for a moment,” came Slade’s voice. Dick turned and obeyed; walking to the couch and sitting down. He looked around for a moment and watched as Slade pulled a white binder from off the shelf.

Slade came and sat down on the couch with the binder in his hand. There was a moment where he looked at it, before he slowly handed it to him. Dick accepted it and looked up at Slade curiously.

“This is for you,” said Slade in a soft undertone. He looked a little hesitant for a moment; but, soon, he cleared himself of it – his impassive features sliding into place. Dick was actually surprised that the man had gotten him something. He hadn’t been expecting it. Wintergreen’s little Christmas celebration kind of just popped out of nowhere.

Dick looked down at the binder and slowly opened the cover. His breath caught in his throat. His eyes suddenly burned and before he could stop it, a tear slid down his cheek. He fingered the first page, tracing it softly. More tears began to build up in his eyes and he didn’t even bother to stop them from trailing down his cheeks.

It was a picture of his mother. He was about five years old and she was holding him in her arms from behind. They were out in a meadow with hundreds of dandelions surrounding them. She looked so radiant and happy. His younger self looked just as happy.

The image began to get blurry in Dick’s vision as further tears flooded through. He tried his hardest to hold back the choking sob that threatened to burst forth at any moment. He turned to face Slade, not caring that his face was completely filled with his tears.

“Thank you,” whispered Dick, his voice cracking once before he managed his gratitude. Slade looked uneasy for a moment, but then he gave an acknowledging nod.

“I… I thought you’d appreciate something like this more than anything that I could buy,” said Slade, sounding almost as if he were justifying his actions for giving such a personal gift. “There are plenty more in there.”

“How—how did you manage to find these?” asked Dick in a soft voice, finally managing to speak. “I wasn’t able to get much of their belongings. Only those two things that you brought from the tower – that’s all I have left of them. I didn’t even have so much as a picture of my mother and father. They… the police foster care I was at never tried to make an effort to get them. And by the time Bruce removed me from there, it was too late.”

An unusual, soft smile spread through Slade’s features.

“I can find anything.”

Dick smiled through his tears.

“Is that your way of saying it’s a secret?”

“No. But I did search extremely hard for them. A few strings were pulled to get them. Simple, really. There are more in there, if you wish to see them.”

Dick nodded, quickly wiping away his tears with the palm of his hand. Slade made to stand up and leave, but Dick suddenly and automatically grabbed the man by the wrist. He quickly withdrew his hand once he realized what he had done. Slade gave him a questioning look.

“Y–you can stay,” whispered Dick. “If you want…”

Slade looked startled by the request, but sat back down next to him without another word. Somehow, without even realizing it, Dick scooted a few inches closer, so that the man could see the pictures with him; their shoulders bumping in contact. Placing the binder in between them, Dick turned the page and couldn’t stop the small choking laugh that escaped from his lips as he saw the contents. There were more pictures of his mother and his five year old self playing in the meadow of dandelions. A flood of memories filled Dick’s mind; ones he had long forgotten.

“Mama and Papa took me out to the country,” whispered Dick, remembering. “We were touring the western states and a few weeks after my birthday, we went out exploring.” Dick quickly put a hand to his mouth, lifting his fingers over his eyes once, as another wave of tears flowed past his defenses. He wasn’t even bothering to hold them back, but his voice was having a difficult time speaking. Finally, he dropped his hand to trace his mother’s delighted face.

“Mama loved dandelions,” whispered Dick, his voice breaking once. As he continued, his voice trembled. “She always said that it had to be God’s favorite flower, since He plants it everywhere. Papa brought a camera and took tons of pictures of Mama and me playing in a field of these dandelions. It was like a sea of yellow as far as the eye could see. I hadn’t ever seen anything like it before. It was amazing.”

Dick looked back at Slade.

“Thank you,” said Dick, his voice a little stronger now. Slade’s eye widened slightly. “Thank you for this gift. It’s probably the best gift I’ve ever gotten in my entire life. It means the world to me. I’ll definitely treasure it. Thank you so much.”

Dick truly meant those words. He hadn’t ever received such a thoughtful gift before. It was certainly surprising to him that the man had managed such a feat. But Dick was beyond grateful that he had. Having these pictures brought back the old memories that had long faded because of time. Old feelings were renewed in his heart and mind. It was very bittersweet, though – there was no doubt about that. But truly these pictures in his hands were worth more than all the riches and fame of the world to Dick.

He was extremely appreciative for such a rich gift.

By the time Dick went through the entire binder, he was completely sobbing; at times, his tears coating the plastic covering of the photos; at times, his eyes so blurry with his overflowing tears that he couldn’t even make out the images. So many memories, so many old feelings, so many lost days without the comforting hold that his parents once held. Dick closed the binder and clutched it to his chest, wrapping his arms around it and holding onto it like a lifeline; as if trying to anchor himself to the past. He leaned forward and continued to sob deeply; the tears hot as they streamed down his cheeks and into his open mouth.

They were so salty.

It was a complete emotional overdose going through all those photographs. Even after over seven years, it was still an overpowering sorrow that tore apart his soul. The pain of their loss hadn’t ever subsided or lessened at all. He longed for them so much; longed to touch them, hear their voices, breathe of their scents. His heart ached for them more than anything.

Why did they have to leave him behind? Why did they have to die?

Such a thing just wasn’t fair.

Sometimes, Dick couldn’t help but wonder if it had been better if he hadn’t known them at all. It was far harder to long and miss something that he hadn’t experienced before. Would his heart ache this much for parents he had never known? Would it feel this painful if he had been alone his entire life instead of the brief season he’d had with them?

But Dick knew he couldn’t ever give up the memories, the moments he’d had with his parents. No matter how much it hurt, he couldn’t forget them.

But it still hurt; it was still painful; almost as if his chest were constricting terribly; tearing, ripping his heart to shredded remains. His sobs intensified as he let the tears soak into his pants.

Would there ever be a time where he could depend on someone else?

A heavy hand rested on his back. It slowly began to rub in a small circular motion. The effect was instantaneous. A shuddering sigh passed through Dick; a calm flowing through his entire being. There was a brief moment where he felt unnerved by the fact that he was so dependent on something that required another human being. But then, he accepted it; gratefully, in fact.

He missed his parents so much. There wasn’t anything more that he wanted than to be held once more by his mother – even only for just a brief moment. He wanted so much to be held by those soft, yet secure arms; to be enveloped by her subtle gingerbread scent. Seven years without a mother’s touch can leave a child starved for such things.

Thus, that large, strong hand on his back was more than enough to still his soul. It was more than enough to bring him peace, comfort – something that was long lost, long forgotten, and long, long needed… and desired. And so, Dick soaked it up like the driest sponge. His breathing calmed almost automatically; but he began to worry that the hand would remove itself now that its job was complete. He honestly hoped that the hand wouldn’t move.

He needed it too much right now.

The tears of his agonizing sorrow began to slow down to a small trickling; each fresh tear slipping down the already worn tracks that laced his cheeks. He breathed slowly; every part of his soul soaking in the warmth that came from the hand. Time passed as he stayed there curled up.

But soon, he knew that he’d have to move and that warm hand would withdraw.

Not wanting to experience its withdrawal suddenly, Dick slowly lifted up. He swallowed once as he sat up, his arms still leaning on his legs as they stayed curled around the binder.

The hand, however, did not leave.

Slade leaned forward, his hand still on Dick’s back, and grabbed a box of tissues that resided on the coffee table. He proffered it to Dick, who thankfully pulled out quite a few; releasing one of his hands from its tight hold on the binder. Dick began to take care of the remnant of his tears from his face.

“Sorry,” sniffled Dick finally, after a few moments of cleaning his face and nose. There was a quiet moment before Slade spoke up.

“They died; you miss them,” said Slade in a soft, yet flat tone. “Don’t apologize for tears of mourning and tears of longing. If you keep your emotions bottled up, they’ll destroy you.”

“I feel like they’ll destroy me anyway,” whispered Dick. Slade inclined his head slightly, before he nodded.

“Yes, there will be those times.”

“You act as if you have experience,” said Dick, looking directly into Slade’s grey blue eye. There was a moment where they stayed connected before the eye averted its gaze away from his own; a sudden wave of sorrow passing over the man. Dick suddenly wanted to ask the man to explain further when Wintergreen’s belting voice burst into chorus of ‘Jingle Bells’.

“Oh, dear. He’s at it again,” said Slade with a sigh. Dick turned slightly to watch the old man happily decorating the tree in the corner of the room near the kitchen. As he decorated, he swayed slightly, singing happily; although more than a bit off tune. Then, he twirled once, nearly losing his balance before returning to his task cheerfully as if he hadn’t just almost fell on his rear end. Dick caught sight of a wine bottle on the edge of the countertop, half full.

“Should we be worried?” asked Dick, his voice cracking slightly; heavily eyeing the wine bottle. He swallowed, hoping to get rid of the remnants of his old sobs.

“No, I don’t think so,” said Slade, sounding bored; his hand patting once on Dick’s back. A tiny, wry smirk tried to lift the edges of Slade’s mouth. “Well, at least not until he dresses up in a grass skirt and attempts to do a hula mixed with the Macarena.”

Dick’s mouth dropped as he stared at Slade. There was a long moment before Slade’s lips finally gave into the urge and the man snorted, beginning to chuckle heavily. He shook his head and patted Dick’s back once again.

“That was a joke, boy.”

“Oh…”

Slade’s face went impassive as he watched the old man.

“Besides, he hasn’t done that in, oh… ten years.”

Dick shot Slade an incredulous look mixed with pure shock. This time Slade fell into the snorting laughter. His hand moved from its location and slid onto Dick’s shoulder; squeezing it once while he shook his head.

“Still joking with you, boy,” said Slade finally, once he stopped his chuckling – which was verging on laughter. “Honestly, you’re too gullible, you know. You’re far too easy to tease.”

Dick raised an eyebrow before he gave in and let a smile lightly lift his own mouth; tightening his grip on the precious gift in his arms.

He wouldn’t ever admit it out loud, but deep down Dick knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that this had to be his best Christmas since his parents’ deaths – despite present company.

Or perhaps even with present company.

ooOOOOOoo

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