Author's Note: Thank you so much for all the lovely reviews and comments. Even the little analyzing comments always spark an idea in my mind. Thanks a ton! ^^

And speaking of which, Aguna mentioned about Robin's parents' death day – which just so happens to be on his birthday. This got me thinking that I needed to do something; however, I did not like Robin turning 16 during the story. Just didn't fit in my brain. Made me feel like he got old on me. XD And it killed my thoughts if (and I mean IF, this thing is huge enough) I wanted to a sequel, that he was getting too old.

Therefore! I am deaging him to 14. Well, honestly, he's only being deaged by 6 months. All previous chapters have been updated with this, but like Sadie Aurora Night pointed out, I might miss something. Timeline is age 7, parents' deaths; around age 12, leaves Batman; around age 13, Teen Titan form; age 14 and a half, kidnapping by Slade.

This change shouldn't affect anything too much. Also, I'll have him be 5 feet even. A thank you to ronnienotyourbizz for pointing out the obvious that I missed: this is fanfiction and I can make him two feet tall if I wanted. LOL. I like it when Slade towers over him.

You'll also notice that I've added the date and time for each chapter as well, so you can have a basic idea of how much time passes during the story. ^^ Previous chapters have this as well.

On with the story!

Chapter Ten

Recurrent

September 12th, 2008. Friday, 11:57 pm.

Robin groaned as he rolled over in his soft bed; trying to find a comfortable position, but failing terribly. His entire body ached with raging bruises and the ice packs had long melted; losing their effectiveness. His body was throbbing. His head was pounding. Even with the covers kicked off, he was hot and sweaty; his body protesting against its harsh reality.

It seriously had been a long, long day – and it was only the first.

Of many.

Robin was too aware of his situation. Day one, and he already knew and understood that there was no escaping the man that held him captive. He was completely under the man's control. That helpless feeling was not sitting well with Robin. He hated it. And the thing he hated the most was that it frightened him as well. He was afraid of being so powerless. He hated it so much. He hated every freaking second of it!

Being so powerless was such a terrifying thing.

Slade had sparred with Robin until past one o'clock pm – or really, Robin got tossed around a lot like a rag doll. For the first hour, true to his word, Robin felt the effects of a massive punch, then heal, rinse and repeat cycle. Slade didn't hold back during that first hour and Robin did his best to defend against him. After that, Robin had been a little more receptive to what Slade had to say.

He had to be, though.

Slade had been right: pain was the master over the will. Robin was proud of himself usually. He had a pretty high pain tolerance. He could withstand a lot of blows in a fight. However, after one mere hour, Robin had been done with it. It had been so bad, he never even wanted anyone to touch him ever again. He just wanted to crawl away and hide from the world; licking his wounds in peace.

But there was no place to hide here.

After that torturous hour, Slade commenced with training. He started up a robot and instructed Robin to spar with it. The robot had fought on an easy setting, Robin had been told, and yet he still couldn't keep up with it. In the words of Beast Boy, he had totally gotten his butt kicked – and by a hunk of metal, too.

By the time Wintergreen came down the stairs to call them for lunch, Robin was thoroughly exhausted. Worn and torn from the inside out. Wintergreen scolded in that grandfatherly tone of his about how they can't miss lunch. Robin had wordlessly followed the two men as Wintergreen griped about how thin he was again.

He had been too tired to care.

He had been in too much pain to care.

He still was.

The rest of the day had been a blur. Slade had gone over a training schedule with him – studying in the mornings, physical training in the afternoons, sparring in the evenings. Robin had noticed that it was pretty rigid; however, there was an hour or two of free time every day. When Robin questioned this, Slade had told him he could do whatever he wanted during them.

That's what confused Robin.

Throughout the day, Robin caught many moments of softness and gentleness from the man. But they were always instantly overshadowed by a cold or harsh reply, or a slap across the face. In just a single day living with the man, Robin was discovering things he had never thought he would even imagine; so many intricate things that one could never discover in the heat of battle.

'Who is Slade?'

Robin was slowly learning who the masked man was. Although, it wasn't pleasant situation, it was almost the best for learning about this strange masked man. Once Robin reeled in his tongue, Slade was… decent, to say the least. But the man wasn't consistent and already Robin was beginning to be wary of the man's flippant moods. What Robin thought wasn't an insult, Slade did; and Robin's cheek paid for it. What Robin had meant as an insult sometimes went underneath the radar – but Robin didn't really believe that too much. Slade was impossibly intelligent. The man knew exactly what he was doing.

And that was far more frightening.

ooOOOOOoo

September 18th, 2008. Thursday, 9:21 pm.

Robin slammed against the floor; stars bursting in his eyes. He struggled against the hold on his arm that had it twisted behind his back. After a moment, his arm was released. Robin curled his hurting arm beneath his stomach, allowing himself to rest his sweaty face against the cold, hard concrete floor.

"How many times do I have to tell you?" demanded Slade, his voice filled with tired, yet angry exasperation. "Control your emotions!"

"I'm trying!" cried Robin in protest; pushing himself up on his knees, before standing up all the way to face Slade. He wiped a hand over his sweating brow.

He was tired – tired of it all.

Slade had to have been a drill sergeant in a previous lifetime – Robin was sure of it – or obviously in this lifetime, since the man's training schedule was absolute agony; not to mention Wintergreen had said that they were in the army together. Robin was going crazy underneath the rigid schedule. And he thought Bruce had been bad – this was nuts!

But, while Slade was strict with his training, it was not without praise. Robin did receive compliments and praise often when he did things right – Robin could feel the man's pleasure emanate from him when he did.

Unlike Bruce, who drilled endlessly with him without any comments on his progress besides critique. Robin had learned to understand when Bruce was satisfied with him or displeased by watching his eyes. They would seem to glitter when he did things right. When he didn't; well… That was a bit more frightening.

Slade's displeasure was simply a backhand across the cheek or a fiercer spar.

A week had passed and Robin was still getting used to the situation. Slade kept him on a strict schedule of physical training, sparring, and studying whatever the man choose that day in engineering. While he was scheduled for 'free time', Robin almost always spent most of it collapsed in bed, exhausted from the rigid physical regime Slade had him on.

Slade also had Robin start with the basics in engineering. He was also learning multiple things in computer programming. Robin held his tongue back over the fact of studying how to hack into different types of computers and mainframes. He was saving his major fight over gun education, which he was sure to come sometime. That was one fight he would not lose – he couldn't lose. But he knew there would be a fight over it.

The man, after all, was a mercenary.

And that was the major thing Robin had learned over the past week. Slade wasn't just any normal psychopathic criminal in Jump City. He was also a mercenary, an assassin who was contracted to kill. And his name to the criminal world?

Deathstroke the Terminator.

Of all the people that Robin had to have as his arch enemy, it had to be him. Robin had no idea that Slade had been Deathstroke. If he had known, Robin wouldn't have touched the man with a ten foot pole. He would've swallowed his pride and appealed to Batman or even to the Justice League.

Deathstroke was that dangerous. The Teen Titans were complete bugs to the man – Deathstroke's power was that well known. How arrogant Robin had been to even think that he had a chance against the man with his friends as backup – they had to have been toys, playthings to this man.

That knowledge had almost brought feared tears to his dry eyes. He wasn't just going to be forced to be the apprentice of a common criminal – no, he was going to be forced to be the apprentice of Deathstroke, the most feared assassin, mercenary in all the world.

That chilled Robin's very heart.

Robin had tried to investigate the entire residence for any exits during one of his hours of free time. But doors were still locked to him and he did search the main room; only to be found out and dragged back by Slade. He had to suffer through quite a few bruises after that – luckily Wintergreen seemed to have an endless supply of ice packs.

One thing Robin noticed was that Slade would often avoid directly punching or kicking him in the face. It wasn't as if Robin never suffered attacks in that area, it was as if Slade preferred to attack other areas; his stomach or upper chest and shoulder area for example. Although, he was often slapped or backhanded; but besides the moments in sparring, it was rare that Robin experienced a bloody nose or major bruises on his face.

Slade was always filled with oddities.

"You're not trying hard enough, Robin," said Slade, sounding irritable. "It makes me wonder if you're being deliberately disobedient."

"I'm not! I swear!"

"Then, what's the problem?"

Robin opened his mouth before clamping it shut. The man was doing it again. He was coercing Robin to spill his weakness out loud – to announce it and acknowledge it. Robin didn't want to say it. He didn't want to tell his enemy his weakness even though it was obvious to anyone and everyone who fought with him. He hated when Slade did this to him – make him talk through the fight.

"Answer me, Robin."

But defiance was a death wish in pain.

"I get…" Robin ducked his head, feeling his face grow warm. He hated the man for doing this to him. "I get hot headed in a fight. I don't… I don't think straight, then."

"Exactly," said Slade. Of course, he knew. The jerk, thought Robin bitterly. "This is why I keep telling you to control your emotions."

Robin folded his arms crossly, sending a glare Slade's way.

"I am trying, you know."

"Obviously," drawled Slade. "Since I have no idea what you're feeling right now."

Robin huffed lightly, dropping his arms to his sides while turning his head downward. Sarcasm. Gosh, he hated the man's sarcasm. He supposed it could be funny, but he was usually the brunt of it and wasn't ever in the mood for it. It wasn't like he could reciprocate the sarcasm without getting slapped for the retorts.

He wanted to go home. He missed Titans Tower. He missed his friends. He missed gorging on pizza with them – even when Starfire wanted to put weird things on it. He missed Starfire's strange alien foods. He missed crushing Beast Boy in videos games. He missed sparring with Cyborg. He missed talking about books with Raven.

Oh, gosh; he missed them so bad.

Robin bit the interior of his lower lip, trying to stop them from trembling. One week. That was how long it had been. One week and he was already set to leave this man – leave him and never look back. Who cares who the heck he was; Robin wanted nothing to do with him.

Was his life going to be like this for a long time?

He hated it here. Would he ever get used to it? What he hated the most about it all was the fact that he was thinking as if he would stay. His level of hope was diminishing already. But he had lost control over his own life; his own choices. He wasn't in control any more – that much Slade made him realize.

He had to rely on the man for everything now. Slade was controlling everything, from the small things to the large things. He wasn't allowed outside – ever. He missed the sunlight and fresh air. The nice feeling of Slade preparing for him beforehand faded quickly once Robin came to realize that he didn't have a choice in the little things of his life.

He was trapped.

There were even times when Slade sent him back to his room to change his clothes. The snarky thought, 'Well, next time don't buy it for me if you don't want me to wear it.' crossed his mind a thousand times, at least, during the past week.

"Robin. Robin, you aren't paying attention any more," said Slade, exasperated.

Robin blinked, looking back up at the man. Slade had walked up to him and was standing in front with his arms folded; staring down at him through his mask with a tired eye.

"Oh. My mind… wandered."

"Apparently," drawled Slade sarcastically. He shook his head once before letting out one long annoyed sigh. "All right, take a rest. You clearly aren't trying this evening."

"I am, too!" cried Robin, absolutely irritated at being talked down to. "I'm doing the best I can!"

"Watch your tone," warned Slade.

"No!" snapped Robin. "I'm sick and tired of you complaining that I'm not trying. I don't want to be here. I hate this place. I hate you. I hate being forced to do things. I'm sick of this!"

Slade's eye turned icily frightening. It narrowed as it stared deeply at him. Robin couldn't suppress the shiver that went down his back. That hadn't been so smart. His brain still didn't care to remember that if he made this man angry, he paid for it – painfully. He took a step backwards and put up his hands nervously.

"Wa—wait…" started Robin as Slade approached with that terrible, furious look in his eye. Slade reached out and grabbed him by the underarm, turning and slamming him into the nearest wall. A hard fist struck his stomach; the wind escaped his mouth as Robin coughed viciously. Slade grabbed him by the head and shoved it back against the wall; stars popping in his eyes, clouding his vision of the masked man.

"You need to learn to think before you speak," said Slade, leaning close to Robin's face; his tone stern. "You have a quick tongue and a short temper."

"You always bring out the best in me," drawled Robin, regretting the retort right as the knee thumped into his chest. Robin dropped to the floor, coughing and gasping in pain. Slade let out a growling sigh as he stood over him.

"We can have a pleasant night or an unpleasant night, Robin. Why must you make things so difficult on yourself?"

Robin scoffed.

"And why can't you just let me go?" retorted Robin. "Then, all this pleasantness and unpleasantness crap can just end."

"Cute, Robin. Really, you are," said Slade, his tone dripping with derision. Robin growled as he dragged himself up to his feet, supporting his weight with a hand on the wall. He cradled his raging stomach with his other arm. He shot Slade his strongest glare yet.

"Go to bed, Robin," said Slade, turning his back on him. "Your snippy attitude will only get you into worse trouble since I won't tolerate it."

Robin opened his mouth for another snarky retort, but closed it before he allowed the damaging words to fly; the realization of what Slade was doing hitting him strongly. Slade was letting him go; letting him go to bed early. He never did that.

Well, that was weird.

Robin quickly obeyed, not wanting to give the man any reason to change his mind. He limped slightly as he walked up the stairs to the main floor. He gave Wintergreen a wordless wave goodnight, before continuing his slow walk to his room; shutting the door behind himself with a long, tired sigh.

Safety.

It was strange that this room gave him that feeling. Slade didn't come in here often and whenever Robin was sent here, it offered a sense of safety and peace. While, of course, the man could still reach him here, it was as if the room was untainted. He was actually really thankful that Slade had sent him to bed early. He was exhausted, sore, and grumpy.

Although, Robin was sure that sleep wouldn't help his bad attitude. A hug from Starfire would cure it, though – right away. Heck, just a hug, period. Although, Starfire's hugs were a bit bone crushing – literally. He missed his friends and would love any interaction with any of them. One week with two adult men, after living with four overactive teens, was boring and lonely.

Wintergreen was nice and all, but he wasn't perfectly warm. But Robin wasn't guarded around him. He figured the man wouldn't hit him ever – he just didn't seem like the type. But Robin missed the warmth of his friends. Moments of them all squished together on the couch for a late night movie, playing football and wrestling for the ball in a scuffle, or just doing silly messing around – all these Robin missed dearly. He missed the human interaction; the kind, soft, playful, casual human touch.

He sure as heck wasn't getting that, pleasantly, from Slade – not that he wanted it from the man anyways.

Robin shed his sweaty clothes; trying to decide if he should step into the shower before bed. Coming to the decision that he was just too tired tonight, he slipped on a new pair of pajamas and eased into bed with a long sigh. He closed his eyes and fell asleep within moments.

ooOOOOOoo

Next Time: Chapter Eleven: A Senior Moment – Robin, to his dismay, finds out what it means for an old man to have a senior moment.

Author's Notes: Mmmm… I cannot wait for the next chapter. *grins mischievously*

Thanks for reading! Next update will be on Friday! See ya next time! Reviews = love and ideas! ^.^