Disclaimer: I don't own Teen Titans.

A/N: This is the semester from hell. D: That is all. Go read now.

Chapter 9: Chats

I was done.

There comes a point when people just don't want to deal with anything—or anyone—anymore. There's a difference between left alone and being neglected, and unfortunately I wanted to be left alone. Not here in the Haunt. I wanted to be outside so badly.

I didn't want to be left in silence again. At least when Slade talked I could figure him out. I could take a guess as to what made him angry or happy. But the more the silence thundered between us the more paranoid I got. What would set him off? If he did explode, what could I do or say to make him stop?

Funny, isn't it, how quickly one assimilates to these things? Changing your actions and words to fit the temperament of someone else? It becomes second nature in a situation like this. It was a mindset that I didn't want to fall into. God, I didn't want to think like that. But I accepted the fact that I wasn't going to win by brute force alone. I would have to escape by other means. And that meant that, for now, I was going to have to play by Slade's rules.

It was just so hard.

The next morning I woke up before Wintergreen had the chance to wake me. Instead of lying awake to mope I got up, dressed, and waited. Even though I've been falling into a sort of routine I had no idea how the day would play out. It was hard to tell when Slade would completely lose it and when he would be somewhat…kind. I don't know what other word to use.

"Good morning."

I mumbled an incoherent response. Wintergreen deserved more politeness than that, but I was too depressed to care. I pulled the box of cereal towards me and poured it into the bowl.

"You're eating again," Wintergreen said nonchalantly.

So, Slade was letting Wintergreen talk to me again. How nice. A bit of color rose to my cheeks as I remembered yesterday's failed hunger strike. Why the hell did I do that? That was stupid, but I didn't know what else to do. It seemed fair to reason that even if I did everything Slade wanted me to do I wouldn't learn anything about my enemy. To beat him I needed to push my boundaries and find out what pissed him off.

Honestly, I hated this. Slade was doing everything he could to control every aspect of my life, and he was doing a good job of it. If I was surprised by anything, it was the fact that Slade came to fix the situation himself so quickly. I expected the strike to last a bit longer. Maybe Slade would have let me starve out of spite.

"Yeah…" I looked down at my food and grimaced. "I guess."

Honestly, I couldn't really blame the guy for telling Slade. He was just trying to do his job. Besides, Slade would have found out anyway. I couldn't be mad at Wintergreen.

"Well, I'm glad that you've decided to eat again, Richard."

Despite myself, I winced when he said my name. Wintergreen stopped messing with the food tray and looked at me quizzically.

"You don't mind me calling you Richard, then?"

The question surprised me. I didn't expect any villain or henchmen, least of all Slade's butler, to have any sense of empathy. I put down my fork and spoke to the floor.

"No," I replied softly. "It's my name, after all."

"You do mind."

His tone wasn't accusatory. It was a fact, not a question. He knew, and there was nothing I could say to make him think otherwise. After glancing at him I nodded.

"Well, if you don't want to be called that then you need to speak up."

"Speaking up never does me any good." Could I be honest with Wintergreen? Could I trust him not to rely everything I said to Slade? Honestly, no, I couldn't. Even then, talking to Wintergreen, I had to choose my words carefully. "Besides, it doesn't matter. It's not like my words mean anything to Slade anyway."

Like talking to Alfred instead of Bruce, I did find it easier to admit things to Wintergreen that I wouldn't admit to Slade. Of course, I wasn't foolish enough to voice all of my thoughts. Wintergreen had a limit to verbal abuse as well. Even though it was probably higher than Slade's I didn't want two people pissed at me.

"There is a difference between speaking up and causing trouble. Up until this point every single word that's come out of your mouth has been to sting. To hurt."

"Like you really expected me to say anything else?" I snapped. "This is a prison."

"I know it seems like Slade's beating you down, but he doesn't want you to be this submissive."

"Ya know it's hard to tell what he wants. I'm supposed to fight back, but not when I want to escape. He's a walking contradiction, Wintergreen. I hope you realize that."

"I'm not trying to argue with you," Wintergreen said. "I know you're feeling down. You have been since you've been here."

He reminded me so much of Alfred. In that moment I felt very, very homesick. My stomach twisted into a knot, and for a few seconds I felt like vomiting. A lump formed in my throat, stopping any words I wanted to say. Wintergreen wasn't mean to me, but neither was he as kind as Alfred. Everything about this felt hollow, a sick parody of the life I had before.

And why the hell wouldn't I be feeling down? I really hated how both Slade and Wintergreen acted as if they weren't keeping me imprisoned. Like this was all some sort…I don't know…summer camp. Wintergreen stood there watching me. Why wouldn't he leave?

"You know," Wintergreen said, "if you do need anything, then don't be afraid to ask me."

The feeling passed. No matter how much I wanted to cry, I knew that it wouldn't do me any good. Heroes don't cry. Robin didn't cry. Dick Grayson on the other hand…

"What I want…" I straightened and looked at him full in the face. "You know as well as I do that I want out. I don't want to be here."

No matter how nice he was I knew that he wouldn't help me. There was only so much he could do. His expression stayed impassive. I couldn't tell what he was thinking. Did he pity me? Was he annoyed? Or was he genuinely convinced that he could help me?

"Tell Slade that you don't want to be addressed by your first name. He'll listen."

My mind went on autopilot as the day wore on. It was one of the few ways I distanced myself from what was happening. I didn't want to hear what Slade had to say. In a way, that didn't help me. Although I hate to admit it I made the same mistakes over and over again. Yeah, I guess I could improve.

Even with my mind on autopilot, I occasionally snapped back to reality when Slade hit me hard enough during training sessions. A fist slammed into my face. Specks of spit and blood flew of my mouth as I fell backwards onto the floor.

"Poor quality, Dick," Slade growled, slamming another light switch on.

I blinked twice in the sudden light. Sweat stung my eyes as I snapped them open. The right side of my face began to swell. Sometimes the situation became so surreal that I began to wonder if the fights were real or not. The pain, however, was more than enough to ground me in reality.

"You're doing well enough to get by…but that's not nearly good enough."

I ran my tongue over my teeth to make sure that none of them were loose. Maybe I should ask for a mouth guard. Then again, he would probably say that those were for wussies.

"Sorry to disappoint you," I mumbled, wiping away the spit from my face with the back of my hand, "but that's all I'm trying to do: get by."

Pain shot through me as Slade replied with a boot to my gut. Curling up from the sudden pain, I rolled over onto my stomach, biting my lip to stop myself from screaming.

"You're insulting yourself with that poor attitude," Slade said, "you know you can do better. I know you can do better, so don't waste my time with this crap."

Something just confused me about all of this. He wasn't even offering me praise if I followed orders. I wanted some confirmation that I hadn't been reduced to a mere tool. At least the thought of me being his apprentice was better than being thought of as a tool. The former suggested that he cared about my well-being. Well, I highly doubt that.

Slade walked away, signaling the end of the lesson. I pushed myself to my feet and began to limp away. At that moment I wasn't even thinking about my friends or Bruce. Pain sometimes overrides everything. I just wanted a bag of ice and time to pass out on my bed. Before I got two feet away he grabbed the back of my shirt and yanked me backwards.

"We're not done yet. Sit down."

He shoved a chair towards me and gestured for me to sit down. Part of me wanted to sit down. We just sparred for three hours, and as always, Slade wasn't ever kind to me. Then again, if he wanted to lecture me then he could be sure that I wasn't going to pick a fight. Not while I was so tired.

Those few seconds of contemplation didn't bode well with Slade.

"Sit. Down."

After a moment's hesitation I sat down. A lecture was coming. I could sense it. I crossed my arms over my chest and sighed quietly. What did I do wrong now? Aside from the normal backtalk, I hadn't done much today to spite him.

I'm not going to say anything, I thought, I'm not going to pick a fight. Just stay calm, Grayson, no matter what he says.

"It's been almost two weeks since your initial disappearance," he said.

"What?"

I couldn't stop myself. My jaw dropped as the realization fully hit me. Had I really been here for two weeks? That was long. Far too long for my taste. I forced myself to stay seated. All I had to do was sit through this. That wasn't so bad, was it?

"Now that I've given you some time to settle in, I feel as though it's necessary for you to know what's fully expected of you as my apprentice."

And here we go.

"Your attitude needs to improve. Drastically. Your backtalk is hindering your progress." Slade began to circle me. "As my apprentice you are expected to be punctual, precise and powerful."

"You have a cute acronym to make me remember that?"

"Shut up. No one knows you're here, Dick. Not even other villains."

Wintergreen's words floated back to me. Should I say something about that? I didn't want to draw attention to my name. It was one thing to call me Richard, but another to call me Dick. Dick was something only my close friends called me. No matter how much Slade knew about my personal life he still didn't know anything about me. He had no right to call me that.

"I would appreciate it if you didn't call me that."

I said it in a way that wouldn't get him angry…well…at least I tried. By this time I was surprised that he didn't make me take off the mask.

"Why?"

What was I trying to say? The fact that Slade was an exceedingly patient man irritated me. He could wait hours, days, weeks to enact his dastardly plan. He caught me. He outsmarted me. I'll admit that he managed to do both to me, but that didn't give him the right to lord over me. Wintergreen was right: I did have certain rights. The question was: would Slade let me?

"Can you just…" What would be the point? Should I argue for this? Would it be worth it? "My civilian identity doesn't belong here."

"Then who does, if not Dick Grayson?"

Hearing him say my full name out loud made me flinch. "I don't know."

Robin was a hero. Red X was a thief. Dick Grayson was an acrobat. But who was the apprentice? Where did he belong in the spectrum of things? I really didn't know. I wanted to talk to someone about all of my insecurities, like Alfred. He would know how to handle things. Even talking with my friends…with Starfire…it would hurt to talk about this, but they would help me. They all would.

"Do you want your friends back?" Slade asked. "Do you really want to go back after all this?"

I clenched my jaw tightly and said nothing. There was nothing more I hated than admitting to my captor that I was lonely, and that that loneliness was slowly driving me insane.

"Let me go outside," I said quietly. "I've been inside long enough."

"You'll only be let out under my direct supervision."

Hmm. So what would I have to do to convince him to let me out? I didn't want to play his game for long. The longer I stayed here the more his logic began to make sense. I hated that so much.

"What can I learn from you, Slade?" I asked. "Batman taught me everything I need to know. It's not as if you're going to teach me astro-jitsu or anything."

Slade threw back his head and laughed. Humor, sometimes, is the only way to diffuse the tension in any situation. Instead of making me feel better, though, I felt even smaller. He had the ability to rip apart anything I said, and even if I was making a joke he had to mock me. His dark, sardonic laugh invoked nothing but negative feelings in me. Maybe it was because the last time he laughed I was lying beaten on the floor, unable to defend myself.

"You've been watching too much Clash of the Planets," he said. "No, unfortunately I'm not going to teach you astro-jitsu, no matter how appealing it sounds."

The aftershocks of his laugh rumbled in the room. For some reason I felt as though I shouldn't have made the reference. What was I thinking? That was dumb. No one said that to his arch-nemesis, especially one as smart as Slade. He patted me twice on the shoulder as his laughter died down.

"It's good to see that you haven't lost your sense of humor."

It's hard to laugh in this situation, I thought savagely.

For some reason I thought it odd that Slade even knew what Clash of the Planets was. In a way, it reminded me that he was also a fellow human being. There was a man underneath the mask who ate and breathed and laughed just like the rest of us. I just wasn't allowed to know him. Not while it posed a danger to his criminal standing.

"Like you care."

"Oh, I do. I'm not the cold-hearted monster that you think I am."

"Then why do I have a black eye?"

"Life lessons. Besides, you haven't been trying your hardest. That won't do, especially not when I have so much to teach you."

Some part of me was curious: what could Slade teach me? That had been a sincere question. If what Slade had to offer me was better than the hellhole I was in now, then should I accept his offer? Should I just accept this new life and enjoy the fringe benefits?

"Right now you are not a threat. It'll take a few years of training for you to become a threat."

"Insulting me isn't helping."

"True. However, you were a threat in Gotham because of your connection to Batman. If a crook saw you around, then he could correctly assume that Batman was nearby. Here in Jump you were a threat because of your team. But by yourself…I mean…come on: you may have had the best marital arts training money can buy, but you're not a threat. Not in the least.

"You asked what I can teach you. I can teach you how to become a threat, Dick. People only think you're a threat because of Batman. I'll teach people to fear you, and not fear by association."

How…was that really true? I tried to think back to those early crime-fighting days in Gotham. People never did fear me, did they? And here people respected me, but they would have never respected me if I didn't work with Batman. People always connected me with Batman. From the very moment I stepped into this city people automatically asked, "but aren't you supposed to be with…?"

I was always at the end of "Batman and Robin." So long as I wore the Robin costume, people would forever associate me with him. My thoughts, whirled and jumbled, prevented me paying attention to the rest of Slade's lecture.

"You'll learn how to steal…how to hack…and how to kill."

"How to kill?"

My stomach flipped at the thought. Bruce never taught me how to kill. He never would. And me…would I…could I do it? Taking another life is difference from stealing. Possessions can be replaced or rebuilt. But a life…a life couldn't be replicated. I can't pull a Catwoman and hand someone their life back. Finally raising my head, I looked at him straight in the face.

"Yes. You wanted to know who I am: I'm a mercenary. I'm going to teach you how to kill."

A mercenary? But if Slade was an assassin, then why was he playing the part of the big bad villain? It didn't make sense. Then again, it could be a part-time job. Slade seemed to be a much deeper guy than a hired hit man. He had a much bigger agenda, I was sure of that.

"No. I won't learn how to kill."

"We'll see what will happen in a few months," Slade said. "You'll change your mind. I guarantee it."

I tried to stand up, but he pushed me back down onto the chair. What could possibly make me change my mind? Coercion wouldn't do him any good. If he really wanted to brainwash me then why didn't he just torture me until I agreed with him? Why did he force me to talk to him so much?

"You're going to accompany me on a contract."

I was too tired to argue. Was Slade going to lecture me like this from now on? When I'm too tired to backtalk? I thought about arguing, but I simply allowed my shoulders to slump. Winning this argument wouldn't do me any good. My face throbbed angrily in pain. It wouldn't be so bad to let him win the argument if I agreed with him. At least then I would be temporarily free to ice down my face to reduce the swelling. Besides, I could always fight back later.

"Yes, sir."

Was he surprised that I agreed with him? I didn't know. That stupid mask prevented me from reading most of his emotions. Not that he was an overly emotional guy to begin with…

"You're excused. Now get out."

It took most of my self-control not to run out of the room. I walked out calmly, deliberately avoiding him as I headed back to my room. Once I was out of his sight, however, I did break into a run. The pain in my side didn't seem so bad anymore. Learning how to kill…

I can't do it, I thought, but no…I can do it. I just won't do it.

Anyone could pull a trigger, but learning how to kill with your bare hands was a different kind of skill. One that involves brains. I learned how to determine causes of death with the world's greatest detective. Would I be forced to learn how to enact those causes under the guidance of the world's greatest mercenary?

God, I hope not, I thought. Please…no…

I leaned against the wall of my bedroom and allowed myself to slide to the floor. Right now, I was done with arguing. I was done with fighting. These past two weeks caught up with me. My friends seemed so far away from me. I couldn't talk to them. I couldn't talk to anyone except Slade or Wintergreen. But here…now…I didn't mind so much. Right now, I just wanted to nurse my injuries and mentally prepare myself for Slade's next lecture. Keeping my sanity was my immediate goal, and if I had to momentarily forget my friends to do it, then I would.

It wasn't, however, going to be a permanent thing.

A/N: If you don't understand the astro-jitsu joke watch "Don't Touch That Dial" again. It's the first episode of season 4.

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