Depression haunted the night as Bruce Wayne hunched over his desk in the study room. The Grayson's death still hung aloft in his mind, and Dick's final words of courage before being hauled off to the Juvenile Center echoed in his head. The trauma remaining on the young acrobat's face was a familiar reflection of Bruce's own tragic witness of his parents' murder. He knew that this night changed Dick from being a small child to an adult in a child's body—as it did with him. To ever again possess such innocence and joy after what had happened was a wish too unrealistic for Bruce to give Dick. If this orphan could ever again find his young enthusiasm in a newly discovered cruel world,…well he would have proven his strength superior to Bruce's.

Bruce didn't know what he was thinking right now. Sprawled upon his normally neat desk lied dozens of adoption papers that he fervently filled during this late hour. It was ridiculous; adopting a child. He had never even interacted with children before… aside from the ones he saved–the ones scared to death of him.

He knew that Dick needed the basic necessities—food, shelter, water—all of which the billionaire had an abundance of owning. Many children—many adults, for that matter—would squeal at the opportunity to live in a large mansion, eat five-star cooking, and have money with a seemingly endless supply, but those misguided people didn't understand that such luxury was empty with no love to fill it. That love, Bruce feared, would be rare in his current schedule. When he wasn't Batman, he had an entire corporation to maintain. How could there be time for Dick?

Still, even in such circumstances, Dick would be better off in a lonely manor than spending time in the criminal infested facility. Perhaps a nice couple may come to adopt Dick, but Bruce doubted it would happen before any damage was done to the boy. In a matter of minutes, Bruce had learned that the process of adoption is long and tiring. Having top-class lawyers, he knew that he could take in the kid a lot faster than most families could. So he strove to do so before Dick's childhood could be smashed any further than it already had been.

It was settled. He was adopting Dick until a more suitable family presented themselves.

"I'll go to bed later, Alfred," called Bruce to the approaching footsteps he heard. "The sooner I fill out these papers,-"

"-the sooner you can get Dick out of Juvenile."

This immediately halted Bruce's reading. For the words that were spoken were not by Alfred. He lifted his head automatically to find…himself...–only in Batman attire instead of the button-up shirt and jeans he was currently wearing—standing right in front of him.

Cautiously, Bruce stiffened and shot the Batman figure a suspicious look.

"I imagine you want identification," Batman said, plainly.

"Naturally," replied Bruce before pressing down on his desk's many hidden buttons and revealing a hand-scanner. Batman obliged the request—removing his glove to press his hand against the machine. A beeping sound confirmed that the hand-print belonged to Bruce Wayne. At the younger Bruce's perplexed expression, Batman pulled down his own cowl to reveal the same—if not, older—face beneath it.

Bruce sighed before rising into a stance. "I suppose it was only a matter of time before my clone was created."

"A logical theory, but I'm not your clone." At the risen eyebrow, Batman explained further. "Future version."

"Ah, that makes sense," said Bruce. "Then I suppose you encountered time travel—either by accident or in an effort to warn me of some past mistake I'm about to-" He stopped himself from speaking, and looked down at the papers on his desk. Did his current process of adopting Dick lead to something worth correcting in the future? If adopting Dick was a mistake, it must be grave enough that his own future self risked altering the past to correct it.

"This is about the Grayson boy, isn't it?"

Batman nodded solemnly. "He's in danger."

"You're referring to him being in more danger than presently living with juvenile delinquents and being a witness of murder?"

"Much more…You see, I didn't come to the past to correct anything, but rather to preserve it from someone wanting to do so himself, to change Dick's past…," Batman said in a low, burdened manner that conveyed his stress and concern for the matter at hand. Whether or not he and Robin had issues before their departure, the memories he had made with him were priceless and worth protecting. It wasn't just the concept that Slade could kidnap him, and influence him into a life of crime—though that was top priority. It was also the reality that all of his history with Dick could be so easily erased, as if it had never happened.

"Who would want to do that?" Batman stalked toward his wall-sized window as he knew that a heavy story was to be spoken to his younger self. He only hoped that this Bruce Wayne had enough strength to accept the truth, and not let it disrupt his future relationship with Dick.

"I adopted Dick," Batman began. "Doing that was most likely the best choices I've ever made. Originally, I planned on only keeping him at the manor until a more appropriate family could be provided, but..." Dick became the light that brought me out of the darkness, the son I never had, the reminder of why I do what I do, the biggest amount of pride in my life...the reasons continued to grow, but Batman—being Batman—simply left it at, "he grew on me."

The younger Bruce vaguely remembered his first encounter with the Grayson boy. It became evident to distinguish the spirit and spunk he had, but had he really enjoyed the boy's company so much that he would permanently adopt him? Surely he had known all of the responsibility of raising a child. Dick would need to be protected from paparazzi, kidnappers, from finding the Batcave...the Batcave! Dick wasn't stupid; living in the manor, he'd be sure to find out Bruce's other identity.

"Yes," Batman assured his younger self—as if reading his mind, "Dick discovers who we are." The troubled look smitten on Bruce's face only intensified at his older self's following, terrifying words, "and he joins your fight for justice."

Bruce slammed his fist on the desk beside him, but this sudden reaction didn't even phase the older one.

"No," Bruce argued in his dark Batman voice. "No, I will not involve a child into this crusade!" Although Dick had proven to be possibly the best acrobat he had ever seen, he knew that such tricks could only get you so far in Gotham. Bullets were faster than his flips, bombs were more powerful than his tumbles, and if Bruce let any harm come to the boy, would he be any worse than the very criminals he fought?

He grimaced at the thought. "I protect the innocent, not endanger them."

"You know how witnessing the murder of your own parents steals your innocence," Batman argued. "Dick's not a complete child anymore, not after his parents' deaths. You know that, he knows that, and he wants to prevent others from dealing with the same loss...just like we do."

"That's exactly what Dick needs," came the sarcastic reply, "to become like us." Anger deepened on the billionaire's face as he further thought about all that could happen to Dick. "What could have possibly brought you to think this was a good idea!?"

"It was the only way to keep him alive." The Dark Knight pointed out the window at the view of his ruthless city. "Dick's a stubborn kid. I refused to let him join me in my mission to catch Zucco many times before he took matters into his own hands- sneaking out, and trying to catch that criminal with only his acrobatics and basic knowledge of self-defense. Granted, he handled himself fine against small-time crooks, but what if he ran into Joker or Two-Face on the way?" Batman sighed at the subtle frustration rising in his own voice.

He remembered following Dick night after endless night—making sure that he didn't kill himself. After all, it wasn't like he could stop him; he had tried multiple times, but Dick would just sneak out again. Some nights, he was too wrapped up in a crime to look for Dick, and he didn't know if that kid would live through the night. Such agony of uncertainty captivated his thoughts frequently, and he knew that—if Dick was to survive the streets of Gotham—he needed to be trained.

The present Bruce ran large hands into his dark hair, groaning at the truth in his older version's words. He knew how deep the desire for justice ran, and the risks taken to achieve it. The vengeance Dick craved from his parents' murderer would definitely be intense enough to deny safety and venture out into Gotham's merciless streets of danger. What more could he do than teach the boy to protect himself?

"Alright, you did what you had to do...so how did it result in someone wanting to change his past?"

"I'd suggest you sit down for the next part, but I know you prefer to stand." At Bruce's solemn nod, Batman continued.

"I could only protect him for so long." The look on Bruce's shocked face, inclined Batman to assure him, "No, he didn't die, but one day he got hurt. Badly. After that, I tried dismissing him from the hero business, but that only made him more angry. He ran away to Jump City, and formed a new team of adolescent heroes around his age."

Bruce blinked a couple times in attempt to take in this new information. Dick getting hurt that bad was one thing to grasp, but having him run away and create a younger generation of heroes—something that had never been done before—required the man to employ all of his brain power just to register it.

Thinking of that care-free blue-eyed child submitting himself to the depressing hero career seemed almost too much to bear. He could only imagine everything Dick had gone through from his beginning year as a hero to his departure of Gotham. Honestly, it was unbelievable that Dick hadn't died during that time. It had taken years of excessive training and mental discipline for Bruce to develop his skill in taking on the role as Batman—and that was when he was an adult. Here, Dick was a kid—a child, really, accepting such a life. Either Dick was an incredible fighter or Bruce was incredible teacher—maybe a little bit of both.

"How did he do with the team?" Bruce asked, hesitantly—hoping for comforting news.

"He did good...too good, in fact that he caught unwanted attention." Bruce tensed while his mind raced with a whole list of possible unwanted attention that Dick could gain. "His name is Slade—mercenary, technology thief, and looking for an apprentice." The younger of the two shut his eyes tightly; he didn't like where this was going. Please don't say...

"And he's obsessed with the idea that Dick is the perfect choice," Batman said, forcing the words out of his mouth like a bitter taste.

A sudden migraine appeared to have taken a hold of Bruce as he pressed his fingers to his temple. Dick, apprentice to a villain—could it get any worse?

"This Slade,...what kind of a threat is he?"

The stare Batman hit him with radiated with a sense of fatal seriousness. "Joker threat."

That was bad—beyond bad. Joker was a selfish monster, determined to get whatever he so desired, and somehow Bruce knew that Slade was no different. To have such a menace fixed on Dick was not at all what he wanted for the orphan acrobat. All he wanted to give Dick was the most secure home he could offer, and as it seemed, he couldn't even do that. A life of many enemies, little rest, pain, sacrifices...how could he have managed to shatter Dick's life so easily—so cruelly? He inevitably crushed any bright future for someone else's child; there was no other way to say it.

Though depressed and disturbed by the news of these unfortunate events, Bruce stayed strong in his effort to comprehend everything being told. "Slade, he's the one who came here to try and change Dick's future?"

A single, heavy nod concluded his theory, and Bruce finally collapsed back on his chair to register everything. He listened to Batman's introduction to all of Dick's allies who had accompanied him on this journey, their strengths, and weaknesses. It didn't surprise him in the least that his future self knew so much about these 'Titans'—after all, he was an expert detective. Yet, while making note of every detail Batman was presenting, somewhere in the back of his mind, he tried envisioning Dick beside him on patrols. Every horrid scene Gotham had to offer flashed in his head. How would Dick react to such inhuman abominations? Would the terrors of the night stain his nightmares with blood?

Even if he could prevent Slade from corrupting Dick's past, it still didn't guarantee any normal childhood when this future Batman prophesied of him leading Dick into a life of crime-fighting. If he adopted Dick, then an unavoidable destiny of danger waited the young acrobat. Yet, if he caught Slade and could find Dick a more suiting family, then surely that would be a better life for this orphan. He could have caring father, a loving mother- someone to assure his fears and not provoke them; he could have a satisfying future, not risking his life, not facing murderers, but making friends and playing sports like little boys should.

That possibility could become a reality if he found Dick another home.

"This isn't right. Dick shouldn't have to follow in my footsteps, shouldn't have a maniac on his tail. None of this is right." Bruce breathed out as he shook his head in despair.

He looked over the adoption papers, and bushy eyebrows weighed over his troubled eyes as he reconsidered this whole process. Dick still needed to get out of the Juvenile Center, but not to be a cape and have the remaining years of his youth wasted on Batman's crusades. No, he needed a better life; he deserved a better life.

"...maybe I shouldn't adopt him..."

It was at this mumbled suggestion that Batman grabbed his younger self roughly by the shirt collar and threw him against the wall.

"You will adopt him!" roared Batman in his overly authoritative tone. "You will adopt that boy and guard him at all costs!"

Bruce Wayne found himself released as the other Batman stalked away toward the open window, and pulled his cowl back over his head.

"Have I always been this protective?"

Batman caught the mild humor seasoning his younger self's voice, and responded in the same manner, but spoke with full truth. "He'll make you be. Trust me."

With those final words, wind whipped the curtains so that they covered the Dark Knight. When the drapes fell back to their original vertical position, he was gone.

Dick bolted up into a sitting position, sweat heavily coating his ghastly white face. Breath jumped when he breathed, but he kept as quiet as he could—for any noise might wake his fellow cell-mates, and he had just learned an hour ago how violent this new world was.

He placed a hand to the forming bruise under his sticky bangs. He had always gotten himself in a couple fights before, but they weren't like these. The savage experience he had just gone through was a beat-down; there was no other way to say it. Never before had eyes glimmered so in the sight of blood, never before had he seen predator teeth hiding behind the curled lips of teens. This wasn't a facility to protect him from Zucco, as he had foolishly believed Ms. Dinkins' empty explanation. This was a nightmare away from his own nightmares.

It only now occurred to him that there was a heartless world outside of his secure circus tent. There were clowns that grinned from a violent sense of joy, there were animals that had no tamers, and there was always a ring-leader running the show. Dick was fairly certain that Ms. Dinkins was the leader of this barbaric circus, and she fed meat like him to these ruthless tigers.

Cautious not to wake the others, he lay back down on his stiff, cold cot and strove to visit happier memories in his head. Returning back to his thin covers, he remembered how his mother tucked him into his small bed. When Dick was little and very difficult to get to bed, she and his father would throw the blankets into a large pile, and present their son with his own nest. Soon after, he would quickly fall asleep, but only when his parents and toy Zitka slept in the nest with him. His mother would stroke his hair, and his father would sing the song he loved about the man on the flying trapeze.

Even though just a year ago he had complained how he had overgrown such activities, what he'd give now to spend just one more night with his parents in that nest. He wanted to wake there, hearing them breathe softly, and just comforting him with their presence. Desperately, he tried to imagine them still sleeping beside him, but the last time he saw them closing their eyes was when they were covered in fresh blood—dead.

That thought released a whimper. He threw a hand over his mouth to prevent any other sound to escape. He didn't want to wake his room-mates, the monsters that filled this cage. If he did, he might not awaken ever again.

Mr. Haly had instructed him to fight back, to defend himself against any "punks" that tried to "mess" with him. His instincts agreed with such advice, but logic defied this order. He realized that engaging in any fights could classify as an act of violence, and the last thing he wanted (or needed) was to be kept here any longer because of a crime he didn't commit.

Under the covers, his mind dwelt back on his old home under the big top. In a way, the circus resembled his childhood; everything was so exciting and fun! Everyone smiled, played, and the colors of the tent expressed a beautiful perspective of life.

Little did he know that that tent was more than a home. It was his sanctuary from a darker evil capable of crushing him as the small bug he felt like. His parents and circus family had shielded him from knowing of such madness that infected the world. Apparently, this knowledge was supposed to be gradually learned over the space of maturing years. For Dick had now discovered how overwhelming it was to learn of it so abruptly.

Suddenly a slit of light from the door crawled on his blankets, and Dick squinted while his eyes slowly adjusted to the brightness.

"Well, well, if it isn't the gypsy boy..."

Robin abruptly shot his head away from the scene. He was crouching on the roof of a neighboring building from the Juvenile Center with only a cement gargoyle for company. Even though his high-tech binoculars couldn't acquire an adequate visual on the scene, he remembered exactly how his first night there occurred..., and he didn't want to watch it.

The bitter loneliness enclosing around him—crushing him, the violent brutality of punches pounding against his small body, it was an experience one couldn't just forget. It was an experience that smacked him out of the trauma from watching his parents die and into a reality where he had to be alert and careful. At that point, Dick discovered that an atrocious, relentless darkness stalked where light existed. He had just never found that darkness before because his parents had lovingly protected him from it.

What irked Robin though was the concept that now, at his older age, he could knock out every teenage opponent his younger version faced without even breaking a sweat. Even though it was directly interfering with the past, and could dramatically alter the future, his fists clenched at the opportunity.

Shaking his head as an effort to rid such temptation, he drew out his T-communicator.

"Titans," he called into it, "report."

"Sorry dude, I got nothing."

"Apologies, my friend. I have detected nothing as well."

"Dido."

"When Slade wants to go undercover, the man can sure disappear."

Robin groaned inwardly. Despite how much he longed to bark the order to keep looking, he could easily hear the exhaustion lingering in his team's voice. It was late, and they needed to sleep. They certainly earned it.

"Alright guys, go on over to the cave, and get some sleep. I'm sure future Bats has informed present Bats of the situation by now. We'll regroup by morning."

"FINALLY!" moaned Beast Boy until his voice followed with an "ow!" from Raven hitting him at his complaint.

"Yes, we will meet you there then, Robin?"

Robin hated to disappoint Starfire's request, but he wasn't going to risk letting his younger form go unguarded from Slade. So, instead of bluntly refusing the offer, he chose a more vague approach.

"We'll see."

"Ahhh, no. You are not pulling another all-nighter, Rob."

Under any normal circumstances, Robin would have engaged in a vicious argument concerning the reasons he didn't have time to sleep. However, he was already exhausted, and didn't feel like justifying himself at the moment.

"I'll meet up with you guys later. Robin out."

Before he could listen to another protest he signed off the communicator, and put it back in his belt.

"Stubborn as ever, I see," came Batman's voice from behind. Any other person would have jumped at such a surprise, but Robin had grown accustomed to his mysterious appearances.

"You're one to talk." The teasing in Robin's demeanor soon died down though as he continued to look through his binoculars—pretending to be occupied so that he could avoid the topic of his poor sleeping habits.

"How are you doing?"

Robin shrugged at his partner's question. "He's doing okay, I guess. I mean, everything's playing out like it originally did so nothing's changed yet. Slade hasn't changed anything."

"I wasn't referring to the younger version."

"Fine, I'm fine." The anxiety stirring within his statement was mild enough that few would catch, but Batman knew Dick better than that. "I just need to figure out Slade's next move."

"Robin."

"I doubt he knows that we followed him to the past-"

"Robin."

"-or maybe that's what he wants us to think."

"Richard."

Robin shut his mouth tightly. He was shaking...just a little, but that was still more of a reaction than he normally had to stress. Tension streamed through his veins, breath came out shabby, yet he was determined to appear calm and collected...especially in front of Batman.

"Hey, look at me." The delivery of those words was soft, understanding—not at all like how Batman usually spoke. It was a reserved tone that hadn't been employed since Robin was ten or so.

Reluctantly, Robin faced him—biting his lip in attempt to avoid talking. He didn't want to risk his voice cracking.

"Look at me without the mask."

Again with the mask? Why did Batman suddenly insist on the disguise being absent during their private conversations? Robin very rarely removed it at the Tower, but that was a caution not to risk his secret identity...wasn't it? Or was it really an effort to leave behind the name that tied him down to his life in Gotham when he first ran away? Now it seemed that his mentor kept trying to reconnect Robin to his past identity, to the boy in Juvie.

Slowly, Robin peeled off his mask, but fixed his naked, blue eyes upon the ground. Batman sat beside Dick, and waited for the teen to look at him. When Dick's head still remained low, a large leather glove tilted his small chin upward, guiding him into the safe stare of his dark guardian angel, and for a moment, Dick felt like a small boy again.

"You're growing up, Robin," Batman smiled proudly. "I see it in the way you handle your team." A shy smile revealed itself upon Dick's face until Batman continued. "You're still a child though." Before offense had time to harden Dick's heart, the man rose a hand in plea for patience. "And you're only human. Even Superman doesn't expect so much of himself."

The hand moved from Dick's chin and onto his shoulder. "I understand that you're forced into a situation that is extremely stressful, but you have to relax. Forget about Slade, forget about the possibilities of the future. Let me take the turn worrying. That's the father's job; not his son's."

Dick stiffened less as he leaned into Batman's secure grip. As much as he longed to prove himself to his mentor, he knew that Batman meant no belittlement in what he said. The Dark Knight knew that his ward could handle himself, but he also knew that Dick had gone through so much lately that he deserved a break—someone to lean on, and Batman offered to do just that.

"Do you think,...that if Slade got me, that I would...join him?" Dick asked the last part quietly as if not to jinx himself.

"I told you not to think about that," the stern response followed as his hand fell off Dick's shoulder.

"I have to know," Robin sighed. "Answer me that, and I promise I'll take a short break, okay?"

Batman looked at him in consideration, and then nodded in silent agreement. "That's only a question you can know, Dick." At Robin's discouraged expression, Batman reconsidered his answer. "But, I can tell you one thing: no matter what, I have no doubt that you won't go down without a fight."

Robin smiled warmly, and with a sincere "thanks," he pulled out his binoculars again until the older hero caught his hand. Confused, Robin looked up toward Batman.

"I need to keep watch," the teen explained. "If I don't, Slade can kidnap the younger me right under my nose."

"I know. That's why I'm going to take watch while you rest."

"N-no, I'm taking watch." Batman expertly noted how much paler Robin became, the rigid posture, the tight lips. Then he realized why the kid was being so possessive of keeping an eye on things. Robin thought that Batman didn't know what happened in there.

"It's okay, Dick. I saw what happened in the Juvenile Center."

"What?" gasped the Titan quietly, eyes wide, and heart racing.

"I hacked into the video footage before I gained custody of you. It only showed so much, but...I know what you went through, what they did to you." His voice dropped in a lower, murderous octave when mentioning the delinquents, and Robin didn't miss how his face scrunched together.

He didn't care that Batman was angry with them though. What disturbed him the most was that he had actually seen the beatings! During his earlier years of training to be Robin he tried so hard to get stronger because he didn't want to be beaten like he had at Juvie, and he definitely did not want his guardian to watch it, to seem him so weak and broken. When one last pull on the bars seemed too much to lift, when one mile more seemed too far to run, the motivation that kept him going was to not let Bruce see him in such a humiliating state.

Little did he know that Bruce had seen that before he even became Robin. And, of course, being the Boy Hostage, there were times where he had been beaten in front of Batman, but he had no idea that Batman had already seen him at that hopeless position before. Shame quickly swept over Robin's face as he avoided the gaze of his mentor who was looking at him intently now.

"You never told me that," Robin mumbled aloud.

"You never needed to know." An excessive silence crawled between the two—giving Batman the time to examine Robin's somewhat red face. He knew that Dick loathed to appear defenseless in front of him—especially now that he was trying to prove that he could handle himself against Slade.

"Why didn't you fight back in there?"

Robin took a minute to think about the question asked before replying, as honestly as he could, "Fighting back could have counted as an act of violence. That would have kept me there longer. Plus,...I thought it was punishment. I thought I had done something wrong." Had Robin's eyes not been gazing out into the night he would have caught the look of horror that Batman held on his cowled face. "I thought...I had failed my parents, and had to pay for the crime."

A moment of recollection was needed before Batman could recompose himself. All this time with the kid- and Bruce had had no idea that Dick didn't understand why he was sent to Juvenile. He had naively just assumed that Dick knew that it was a grave mistake on behalf of Gotham's Children Services Department. If he had known Dick carried such guilt,...

"How long did you think that?"

Robin shrugged halfheartedly. "Up until when you and Dr. Leslie were giving me a check-up. I could tell you guys were upset by what happened, and that's when I was fully convinced that the beatings were not excusable."

"I'm sorry, Dick."

"Wasn't your fault. Besides, if you hadn't gotten me out of there when you did, who knows what would have happened..."...or if he'd even come out in one piece.

"It wasn't soon enough." Batman turned directly into view of Dick. "I promise you, Slade being in the past won't delay the adoption process."

Dick gave his guardian an odd look. It had only now occurred to him that he wasn't the single person stressing out about Slade interfering with the past. Batman was always serious, but this mission seemed more personal to him. Of course, Robin expected Batman would naturally be concerned at the possibility of his relationship with Robin being completely deleted, but he never really stopped to consider how this mission affected others. All he constantly considered was how it would affect him. The more he thought about it though, the more he realized that the heroes he came with might also be feeling the same pressure because his presence in the future greatly influenced their own lives.

Without Robin, there was no Dynamic Duo. Without Robin, Cyborg would only be considered a freak, Raven would never have friends, Starfire would be a fugitive, and Beast Boy...well, he'd have never gotten rid of that goofy mask.

A grin slipped on Robin's face at his comical thought. He looked at Batman's tight face, and suddenly remembered why he had used so many witty come-backs when he worked with the man. He hated dealing with Batman's moody attitude.

"Y'know scowling like that's gonna get you wrinkles quicker." Yeah, it was a lame joke, but what else was new?

"You've only been in Gotham a few hours and already you're trying to get me to laugh?"

"Well, yeah. You're being way too moody."

"I've got news for you, kid," Batman smirked (yes, smirked). "You were pretty moody yourself when I first came to Jump."

"That's only cause you came, and brought your moody germs with you!"

The two laughed lightly at their mini-argument. It was nice to tease each other on occasion instead of fretting over small details on how the past could be affected by Slade. It was like old times: Batman would be sitting at his computer, and Robin would do whatever he could in his power to get him to smile. Although aware of his ward's efforts, Batman teased him by remaining solemn and stoic no matter what the boy did until Robin gave up, and turned to leave. Before he could, The Dark Knight gestured him to come closer where the boy could see the small smile placed on his face as he asked him to stay and keep him company while they both ate Alfred's cookies.

The thought of food provoked a large grumble from the teen's angry stomach. Dick bit his lip in embarrassment while his mentor pulled something out from his utility belt: a protein bar.

Batman handed it to Dick as concern drifted back to his face. Mutely, Dick accepted, began to strip the food of its wrapper, and chewed it silently. The taste seemed familiar; they were the same kind that they ate when patrolling long hours. Dick found himself grateful that Batman still came prepared.

"When did you eat last?"

Oooh, Dick knew that that question was coming. He had just hoped that silently praying to avoid it might prevent it from happening. Batman was a detective, however, and despite how thin Robin's natural frame was, he knew that Slade's presence had changed the Titan's eating habits.

Dick purposefully gave an incoherent mumble of an answer while eating his snack. As Batman engaged his famous glare, Dick glared right back, but as both looks escalated, Dick finally surrendered. He swallowed his food, and gave an audible response this time.

"I've been busy with Slade, alright?"

This didn't seem to pacify Batman's temper in the least. "That's no excuse for malnutrition."

"It was your excuse," he grumbled, recalling how fixed Bruce would get when stumped on a crime. He could go days with only coffee to satisfy his hunger, and Dick liked to believe that he could do the same.

"Eating less as a grown man is completely different than eating less as a growing teenager, and you know that."At Dick's stubborn reaction, Batman chose a softer approach to his words. "Don't do it again."

Shrugging, he politely received the water-bottle Batman handed him, and drank a generous amount to wash down his 'supper'. He tried perilously to hide the yawn creeping out of his throat by turning to the side and putting his fist to his mouth. Batman was Batman though, and easily saw it.

"I'll take watch," Batman announced as he pulled out his own set of binoculars. Taking off his own cape, he placed it carefully on Dick—who jolted awake from his dozing at the action. Soon though, his eye-lids fell, his head bobbed a little since he was still in a sitting position, and a soft snoring sound ran past his lips.

He sounded so peaceful that Batman almost hadn't caught him when his unconscious form started to roll off the roof. Barely in time, his hands seized the small body, and lied him down on a flatter section of the roof. Batman secured his cape around him so that the chilly night wouldn't steal his heat.

"Rest now, Robin. You've earned it."

Dick's bangs began to shade his eyes, for the gel he usually styled it back with was wearing off quickly. Affectionately, Batman's hand pulled away the bangs, and caressed the shaggy ebony locks until Dick's breathing became more steady, proving that he was in a deep sleep.

The hero smiled at Dick before looking back into the binoculars, and forcing himself, with every amount of self-control, not to pound those punks who had just hurt his boy.

Slade sat at his control panel, looking over sketches for the new design in his Slade-bots. Amongst the papers lied an old sketch of the outfit for his eventual apprentice. The outfit was designed all black, with a large, orange 'S' symbol spread over the front. It was gender neutral in case his apprentice would be a girl. He didn't really care whether he had a boy or girl as an apprentice so long as he/she was a perfect choice.

"Still obsessing over this apprentice concept, sir?"

Slade smiled at his old friend's curiosity. "Wintergreen, what good is a fruit tree with no one to prune it? Such is the same with my legacy. I need an apprentice to fill in what I have built."

"Then how perfect it is that there's one just waiting for you to retrieve him..."

Slade bolted into a stance with an AK-47 in his hands by the sound of this new, yet familiar voice. Wintergreen reached near his own, simpler handgun, alert to fight, but not as eager as his associate.

"Relax," came the mysterious voice. "I'm only here to make sure you don't miss the opportunity of a life time."

"How kind of you," Slade scoffed. "Care to step out of the shadows before I end your life time?"

"If you insist." The figure stepped into the light, freezing the two men in their tracks at the sight of another Slade. "But, I wouldn't recommend it. After all, how wise is it to shoot yourself?"

A/N: Hello, fellow readers! I apologize for the delay, but I was kidnapped by monkey ninjas, and there was like no wi-fi there to update the story...

Nah, not really. My laptop randomly decided it wanted to quit on me so blame it. This is my second draft of this chapter because my original one got deleted.

Laptop: It's not my fault!

Me: Weren't you supposed to be crashed?

Laptop:...

Anyways, sorry if this chapter was kinda rushed and not well-written, but I promised to get it done this week, and even though I'm cutting it pretty close, I still managed.

Regarding this chapter, I'm avoiding direct confrontation with the violence Dick encounters because I really can't write things that sad. I'll dig into their emotions, sure, I'll write about fights, but not beatings. I hope to have portrayed younger Slade a bit more impatient than older Slade because I wanted to reflect a weakness, that Robin has, as a weakness that Slade had as well...just to connect their similarities a little more. The Batfluf continues, but I hope they stayed in character well enough. I didn't have time to edit that much.

Don't forget to review...

Oh, speaking of reviews, there was one that I should address. SarcasmSparkled, what a great question! Will Robin grow up as a hero or a villain, with the Titans, or with Slade. Well, that, my dear, is where this story gets interesting. Don't worry, no spoilers because there's nothing to spoil yet.

The thing is, I can work either way. So how this fic ends, is pretty much up to you guys. Review if you want him to stay with the Titans/Batman or with Slade. I'll set up a poll concerning this matter when I find the time. Until then, review your opinion, or if you have a more elaborate idea, message me.

Either way, I put the end of the story in your hands. Choose wisely, people.

-Tabie OUT!