I know, it's been almost two weeks and I'm a huge jerk face. It's just that I'm always really busy with school and marching band. And it doesn't help that this chapter is almost 10 Word document pages long. Like I said before, updates would most definitely be slower now. From now on, if I don't update for two weeks in a row, you have permission to yell at me via Charlie's PM.

Oh, and thanks to whoever pointed out my really bad typo last chapter! I should probably start looking over the chapters better.

"The cliff was not the edge of the world, but the drop over the side could still kill. Three hundred feet straight down to a stream just four feet deep. Amy did not appear to remember, but it was the same cliff she had practiced on during their last visit to the national park. Once she had conquered it, she had felt like a real rock climber."

Robin was in the living room reading Falling. He lay flat on his stomach with his legs stretched behind him and his head held in his hands. His black hair was a mess and it dropped into his eyes, making it difficult to see. He wore a plain red t-shirt and a pair of baggy jeans with holes in them. He flipped the page of his book and continued reading. He was nearing the end and the tension was killing him.

Wintergreen and Slade sat in the two green armchairs in front of the window. It was a normal family scene, but it was extremely awkward for Robin. He had sent the letter to Bruce two days before. Ever since, they had all danced around each other. He wouldn't say that Slade had gotten softer, but he had gotten more considerate. He no longer treated Robin as a tool, but as a person. Things were getting better, he was gaining small freedoms.

They had just finished eating a delicious lunch of spaghetti and meatballs, made by Wintergreen, and had settled down in the living room. Robin and Slade had trained all morning. He had done so well the older man had given him the rest of the day off, though he didn't know what he was going to do with himself. Maybe he could ask Slade if he could bench press later.

His attention was brought back to the present by the sound of paper rustling. Wintergreen was reading a newspaper and Slade was going through a stack of papers thicker than a sandwich made by Cyborg. On the front page of the newspaper was a picture of him and his friends as the Teen Titans standing in front of the tower. He remembered when the photo was taken. It had been shot the day they had finished building the tower. The article was titled "Where Are the Founding Titans?"

Gently closing his book, Robin sat up. His mouth was dry. He wanted to ask permission to read the article, but he couldn't bring himself to. He didn't know why, the worst that could happen would be Slade saying no. But what if he messed things up? In a way, he liked how things were. What if he royally ticked Slade off? His nose throbbed to prove how bad things had been before they had found neutral ground. He shook all negative thoughts from his head. If he never asked, he'd never know. Clearing his throat, he caught Wintergreen's attention, causing the old man to look over his paper at him.

"Can I read that?" he asked quietly.

Wintergreen's eyebrows scrunched together like he was confused. Slowly turning the paper around in his hands, he read the title of the article. Understanding flashed in his eyes. He shot Slade a questioning look which was returned with an indifferent shrug. It wasn't much, but it was a yes. Robin's heart soared. For the first time in three months—eighty-three days to be exact—he was going to catch a glimpse of the outside world.

Robin took the newspaper from Wintergreen with a small thank you. He didn't know if it was directed at Slade or Wintergreen, but they both accepted it with a slight nod of their heads. He gently smoothed the paper over the floor as if it were very delicate. He laid back down on his stomach and planted his elbows in the shaggy carpet. Setting his head on his closed fists, he looked over the gray paper.

He took his time memorizing the picture. Over the course of the eighty-three days he had forgotten the curve of Raven's mouth when she would give a rare ghost smile. Or the way Cyborg's nose twitched when he wanted to laugh, but whatever it was that was funny was too inappropriate to laugh at. He had forgotten the way Starfire's eyes constantly shone with curiosity and the way Beast Boy always looked like he was going to get caught for something. The picture was a nice reminder, but he knew Slade would not allow him to keep it.

There was a person in the picture he did not recognize at first. It took him a while to realize it was him. In the picture he looked strained, yet happy. The picture had been taken when he had just started getting used to a team, so his frustration level had been high. His hair was spiked up and a smile was settled over his face. It seemed like forever since he had smiled last, he actually couldn't remember. His posture was cocky and arrogant. One good thing that Slade had taught him was that he was not as good as he thought he was.

Taking his eyes off the picture, he cast them onto the actual article. He placed his finger under the words and silently moved his mouth as he read.

Over the last two months the Titans absence in Jump City has not gone unnoticed by the city's citizens. Though they did not leave the city unprotected, the people of Jump cannot help but wonder where their beloved heroes have gone. Lately the Titans East have been watching over the city of Jump, but when Steel City need their heroes, they leave Jump to honorary Titans, such as Argent, Kole, Gnark, and Jericho.

It has been brought to our attention that the founding Titans aren't the only heroes who aren't where they are supposed to be. Speedy, of the Titans East, has been spotted in both Star City and Gotham. As we all know, Speedy is the former partner of Green Arrow, hero of Star City. But why would he be in Gotham? In fact, the young archer is not the only hero who has been seen in Gotham. The Flash, Wonder Woman, and several other members of the Justice League have also been spotted in the Dark Knight's city.

Is Gotham the center of something big that the Justice League doesn't want us to learn about? And what has happened to the Teen Titans? Are they splitting up?

-Article by Jonelle Binitch

He pressed his lips into a thin line and pretended to look confused, but on the inside he was bursting with joy. The Titans and the whole Justice League were looking for him! There was no way they couldn't find him. He was glad his friends were looking for him, but the city needed them. Were they working hand in hand with the League, or individually? Had Roy gone solo? He shook his head, so many questions and so little to go on.

Robin was about to return the newspaper to Wintergreen when something caught his attention. The word "Wayne" was poking out from under the page with the Titans on it. Slowly he turned the page only to have his breath hitch in his throat. The image that greeted him nearly brought tears to his eyes. On the page was a picture of Bruce. He was standing behind a podium with his hand stretched out like he was waving to somebody off camera. The article was titled "Is Bruce Wayne Hiding Something?"

Bruce Wayne, after two months of not being seen, unexpectedly threw a charity event for the Gotham City Orphanage. We all saw it for what it truly was: a cover up. Gotham's White Knight's long absences have raised suspicion. It was also brought to our attention that Richard John Grayson, adopted ward of Mr. Wayne, hasn't been seen in months. From what Mr. Wayne has told us, we know that he is receiving a higher education in an unknown location. We believe this also to be a cover up.

We have learned from anonymous sources that Grayson is overseas receiving treatment for a mysterious illness that has plagued him. Mr. Wayne has been trying to keep it on the down low, but it was only a matter of time before the media found out.

Get well, Richard

-Article by Lois Lane

He felt a small smile grace his lips. Clark was covering for Bruce through Lois. Robin was sure Clark felt terrible about lying to the love of his life, but he was focusing people's attention elsewhere. He felt great gratitude towards the big blue boy scout. They were doing a good job of keeping their identities secret, but how much information did they have about him? Three and a half months, it was the longest he had been held by one of his captors.

Taking one last lingering glance at the picture of Bruce, he folded the newspaper over. The picture of the Teen Titans was staring back at him. He had to look away for he couldn't stand to see his friends with the stranger that was supposedly him. Folding the paper the rest of the way, he sat up and handed it back to Wintergreen, who gave him a small smile in return.

"Did you find anything interesting?"

Robin nodded. "Apparently I am receiving treatment in another country for a strange illness."

Wintergreen shook his head. "The media tries to find an answer to everything."

"You should have seen the story they wrote on why Beast Boy is green."

"That would have been an interesting article."

"Yeah," Robin hesitated, turning to Slade. "Can I go lay down? I feel a migraine coming on."

"You have the day off," Slade replied.

Standing up quickly, Robin ran out of the living room and into the hallway. He had lied to Slade, but what did it matter? He was going to lie down, he was just making a detour. It would feel nice to empty his head of the thoughts that were plaguing him. Yes, a nap sounded nice.

Walking into the bathroom, he closed the door behind him. Making his way to the counter, he pushed his bangs out of his eyes and examined himself in the mirror. His black hair was overgrown and shaggy. He still hadn't gained back all the weight he lost, but he wasn't as skinny as a stick anymore. Wintergreen's cooking was definitely helping. His skin was pale from being locked away. Muscles bulged under his skin from the hard physical training he had put himself through. His face was hard, grim almost, like he had aged several years in the last couple months.

Slowly he peeled off his mask and set it on the counter as if it were fragile as a snowflake. Looking back in the mirror, he found crystal blue eyes staring back at him. People say that the eyes are the window to the soul, but from years of living with Bruce he had begun to doubt that. Bruce's eyes were unchanging, always hard and calculating, practically unreadable, much like Slade's lone eye. But now that he was looking into his own eyes, he what all those people said were true. In his eyes he saw grief, anger, rebellion, submission, and a small flicker of hope. They were like a tell-all book.

He placed his finger just above his temple and traced the scar that ran over his eye and almost to his nostril. It was over his right eye, the one Slade was missing. A wave of disgust shot through him, he didn't want to be similar to the man in any way. Yet they were the same, in different ways, if that made sense. He let his hand fall back to his side. Wintergreen had taken the bandages off his nose, the bone had set well. It hadn't been a terrible break in the first place.

Gently tugging his shirt over his head, he let it drop to the floor. Tugging off the medical tape that stuck to his skin just under his armpit, he began to unwind the bandage that was tied tightly around his chest. Throwing them in the waste basket, he studied the brand over his heart. The insignia was white, but around the edges where the flesh puffed it was a bright pink. Luckily, due to Wintergreen's care, it had not become infected.

Dick ran his hands through his hair, only to have it fall back into his eyes. He pulled open the cabinet behind the mirror open to look for some ointment to put on his brand, but what he found was not at all what he expected. Sitting right before his eyes was a bottle of hair gel, a peace offering from Slade, he assumed. Taking it off the shelf, he turned on the sink, pulled off the lid, and dumped the contents of the bottle down the drain.

He dunked his head under the steady flow of warm water to wet his hair. Standing up straight, he grabbed a towel off the rack and dabbed at his hair. Pulling open several drawers, he looked for a pair of scissors, but found none. Shrugging, he grabbed his razor out of the cabinet and wet it. Brushing his hair flat with a comb he had found sitting on the counter, he seized an ebony lock between his thumb and forefinger and began to saw at it with the razor.

He watched as the dark damp hair fell to the tiled floor and he continued with his work. Dick started with his bangs first, sawing through the strands of hair until they fell away. He left his bangs long enough to still reach his eyes, but short enough to stay out of the way. Cosmetology was not his specialty, and he was not a master at it, but he didn't think he was doing a half bad job. He tried to layer it back, but the cuts were uneven due to his improper tools. Some strands were too long, others too short. But over all, it wasn't a terrible haircut. It made him look more mature, more of a young adult than a teenager.

Towel drying his hair further, he ran his hands through his raven locks, messing his hair slightly. It was almost like the haircut Leroy had worn, just a little bit more under control. His mind flashed back to the picture of him that had been printed in the paper. Him with his cocky grin and gelled up hair. He grimaced and looked at the new image of himself in the mirror. He wasn't the same boy who was in the picture anymore, so why should he look like him? Yes, the shorter, non-gelled hair fit him better. He didn't even know that boy anymore, he had to stop trying to be him.

Cleaning up the hair that had fallen to the ground, Dick picked up his mask and shirt, then exited the bathroom. He passed Wintergreen's bedroom and went into his own. Closing the door behind him, he listened to the lock click shut before dropping his shirt on the floor, placing his mask on the nightstand, and collapsing on the bed. He buried his face in his pillow and sighed, releasing the tension in his back. Kicking off his shoes, he rolled onto his side and stared at the wall for a while before drifting off to sleep.

The area he was standing in was dark, the air was moist, and he was gripping something in his right hand. Beads of sweat formed on his hair line and dripped down his back, though it was not hot. His body shook slightly and he was having trouble catching his breath. It was so dark that he couldn't see his hand in front of his face. Reaching up his empty hand, he touched the skin around his eyes to find he was not wearing a mask. But when he touched his face, a strange substance smeared under his eye.

The darkness was replaced by dim lighting and the scene that met his eyes was horrific. His friends lay mangled all around him. Blood soaked the floor and was splattered on the wall. A knife rested in his hand, it was covered in the red liquid. With a sickening shock, he realized he was wearing Slade's apprentice uniform. He jumped when a hand rested on his shoulder. Turning around, he found Slade standing behind him. He didn't pull away.

Starfire was the closest to him. Her emerald eyes were staring blankly at the ceiling. Her skirt was torn and bruises covered her body. Her throat was cut so deeply that bone could be seen. He looked away only to cast his eyes on Cyborg's motionless figure. His human eye was closed and instead of being blue, his robot parts were gray. Beast Boy lay next to him on his stomach, a knife wound was all too visible in his back.

Speedy was slumped against a wall with several of his own arrows sticking out of his chest. His bow lay a couple of feet away, broken in two. Raven's head was turned to an odd angle, her neck had been snapped. Her dark hair was cast over her face and her cape had been removed. A pair of pleading green eyes caught his attention. Kid Flash was propped against a wall, a knife wound deep in his gut. His chest rose and fell with shuddering breaths. Blood poured from the wound in his stomach, but he was trying to stop the flow with shaky hands.

"Did I do this?" Dick asked breathlessly.

Kid Flash managed to nod. Dick dropped to his hands and knees and crawled to his fallen friend, but he kept the knife in his hand. He pressed down on the speedster's wound, earning him a dull groan. He watched terrified as his friend's eyes glazed over and his head dropped to his chest. Dick rocked back on his heels and stared at the wall. He had killed his friends

Glancing over his shoulder, he found that Slade was gone. In his place was a figure cloaked in darkness. A black cape rested on his shoulders, covering his body. His cowl was down and he was slowly walking towards Dick. Bruce's face was unreadable, but if looks could kill Dick would be rolling over in his grave. Unsteadily getting to his feet, Dick faced his mentor.

"You killed them," Bruce accused.

"I-I didn't mean to," Dick sobbed.

"He can't tell you what to do anymore," came Slade's voice. "Kill him, leave behind what is left of your life before."

Dick woke with a start. He was drenched in cold sweat and he was panting like he had just run a mile. His heart was pounding in his ears. A sharp pain shot through his body and he clutched his chest and fell back onto the bed. After he controlled his breathing, he brought his hands to his face and began to sob. His salty tears soaked into his pillow and his sobs were so quiet that he could hardly hear them.

A soft click and thud brought his attention back to the present. Wiping tears from his eyes, he threw his legs over the side of the bed and stood up. His door had opened. Without bothering to put on his mask, shirt, or shoes, he exited the room. It was dark, but once again the dark was hid turf and he had no trouble maneuvering. He stepped into the kitchen and was surprised when the clock above the counter read 1:14 AM. He had slept through supper. Why hadn't Wintergreen woken him up?

A small breeze swept through the kitchen, causing Dick to shiver. He wrapped his arms around his bare chest, trying to find some warmth. To his left the sliding glass door was open. The yellow curtains that were draped over it twisted and turned with the cold air that passed through the house. For a moment Dick contemplated closing the door and going back to bed, but the crisp night air called to him. It whispered secrets and promises that he could not refuse.

Gooseflesh prickled on his skin like little hills as he stepped through the doorway. Breathing the night air, he sighed. It made him feel at home. Rushing towards the end of the cement porch, Dick flung out his hand, grabbed the edge, and did a one handed cartwheel off the side. Firmly planting his feet in the grass, he threw up his hands as if expecting the imaginary crowd to burst into applause.

God, the night felt so good. His feet were wet from the dew drops that clung to each blade of grass as if it were their life lines. Water rimmed the bottom of his jeans, turning them a darker shade of blue. The stars shone like a million tiny diamonds in the sky. A crescent moon hung in the air. The darkness wrapped around him and he embraced it. Dick wanted to do backflips, front flips, and just feel the night air, but something stopped him.

The dogs were keeping their distance with their heads bowed low to the ground. That could only mean one thing. Yanking his body around, he crossed his arms in front of his face in the shape of an X, like he had done all those weeks ago. He caught the fist that had been aimed toward his face and elbowed his attacker in the stomach. Through the veil of darkness he saw Slade clutch his stomach and stumble back a few steps before standing up straight and folding his arms behind his back.

"Very good, Dick. Your fighting skills and perception are growing stronger."

Dick was uncomfortable, he didn't know how to accept the praise. He didn't know if he wanted it for that matter. Bruce never told him how good he did, he only told him to work harder. His friends would express their praise through noogies and high fives, which he couldn't do with Slade. He didn't relax from his fighting position because he wouldn't be able to jump back into it fast enough if Slade decided to strike. But he released the tension in his shoulders. Modesty was his best option.

"Your dogs gave you away."

"You cut your hair." It was a statement, not a question.

"It was getting in my way."

"Next time, ask Will to cut it."

"I don't think it looks that bad."

"It doesn't look that good either."

The corner of Dick's mouth twitched as if he were going to smile. "Why'd you bring me out here?"

"You're one with the darkness, it's your territory," Slade said. "Most of my operations take place in the night. It is only logical to work with your strengths."

"What of my weaknesses?"

"You had few to begin with, and we have mostly taken care of them."

"And they were?"

"Your temper, for one, but you have learned to control it," he said. "And you were too emotionally attached to the Titans. Even though you are my apprentice, if something were to happen to you, I'd be able to move on."

Slade had struck a nerve within him. It was his turn to strike back. "What about Wintergreen? You seem pretty attached to him."

"Nobody knows about him."

"What if I were to turn on you?"

"I think you are too attached to Will to harm him."

Dick knew he was right. He could never harm Wintergreen. He let his hands drop to his sides and the second he let his guard down, Slade sprung. He received a hard blow to the jaw, but he managed to backflip out of the way before the masked man could get another punch in. He swung at Slade and landed several to his chest before crouching to the ground and swiping his feet out from under him. But before Slade hit the ground he flipped to his feet.

Under his mask, Slade was smiling. Dick was getting good, his anger no longer controlled him. He was quick and precise. He had always held back with sparring with Dick for he didn't want to seriously injure the boy before he made his first appearance as his apprentice. But it had come to the point where he didn't have to hold back as much. He wouldn't show Dick his full wrath. No, he wasn't ready for that yet.

He caught Dick's foot that had been flying towards his face and threw him to the side, but he did a back handspring back to his feet. He charged at Slade and tried to ram his shoulder into him, but the older man simply sidestepped him and watched slightly amused as Dick fell flat on his face. By that point the boy's anger was beginning to resurface. He had been doing so good earlier.

"Keep your anger in check," Slade reminded.

Dick threw a couple of blind punches before taking several deep breaths and calming himself. He raised his fists and readied himself. Out of the corner of his eye he saw that the kitchen light had been turned on. The silhouette of Wintergreen silently watching the fight could be seen behind the glass doors. Dick rushed at Slade, ducked under his swing, and hit the man in the small of his back.

Slade couldn't help but feel a little bit proud of Dick, the boy adapted well. He had hardly taught him anything, they had pretty much gone over his basic fighting skills. But even fighting against Slade's advanced training, Dick proved that he could hold his own. He was strong and growing stronger, but if he accepted Slade and truly began to train under him, he would be unbeatable.

He could see that Dick's mind wasn't completely in the battle. He was distracted by Wintergreen observing them from the kitchen. In a real battle he would probably have been dead by then. Slade needed to teach him a lesson. He sprinted at Dick and aimed a kick at his chest, right at his exposed brand. He hit him hard, harder than he meant to. Time seemed to freeze for a second, with Dick just standing there, a shocked expression written on his face. And then he crumpled to the ground like a ton of bricks.

Slade took a couple of steps back and folded his hands behind him. He watched Dick, who lay face down on the ground and waited for him to get back up and resume the fight. A smile crossed his face. Turning his back on the boy, he waited for the surprise attack that never came. He turned back around to find Dick to be in the same crumpled heap he had been in previously. He had expected Dick to jump back to his feet and continue where they left off.

"Dick, stop fooling around. Get up," Slade ordered.

But he did not move. It became apparent that something was terribly wrong. He quickly moved to Dick's side and knelt next to the boy. Gently rolling him over, the sight he saw shocked him. Glassy blue eyes stared blankly at the stars that shone above, his mouth was slightly agape and all of his muscles were relaxed. Slade's hand hovered over his mouth, but he did not feel him exhale. He placed two fingers on his wrist, and then on his neck. Neither had a pulse.

He had killed Dick. Removing his mask, he carelessly tossed it to the side and laid the boy's small body flat on his back. Slade tilted Dick's head back, pinched his nose shut, and breathed twice for him. He began chest compressions. But Dick's body did not respond.

I feel like you're probably reading this while completely flipping your shit over this. Or you may not be reading this at all because the chapter just killed you. For your sakes, I hope it was the first one. Please review and tell me what you thought (and if you survived)!