Slade couldn't help but watch as Dick did a series of one handed push ups. He knew the boy wanted to do more, but it just wasn't possible due to the fact that his arm was still restrained in a sling. With a little bit of force, Slade had managed to shove a couple of pain killers down the poor kid's throat. Dick never complained about his shoulder hurting him, but Slade didn't really expect him to. Even before he became his apprentice, Dick had refused to show weakness; that was one of the things that Slade admired most about the boy. Sometimes though, Slade wished that the kid wasn't so stubborn, for he would like to know if Dick was hurt or in pain. However; it was something that he had to figure out for himself because it seemed that Dick was terrified of looking lesser in Slade's eye.

After his talk with Wintergreen, Slade had been angry, and to some extent he had taken it out on Dick. Upon seeing the boy, he had been reminded of the unpleasant conversation and had resented Dick's very presence. The boy, at first, seemed confused. But after a while he had become silent, and had receded into the gymnasium of the Plaza Hotel. Slade, after much deliberation over Wintergreen's words, had decided that to some extent the old man was right. None of it was Dick's fault, and it wasn't right for Slade to blame him. If it was anyone's fault it was his, he was the one that set all of the plans into motion. Slade never would have thought that he would become so attached to the boy, but he was; and it was dangerous. Dick could easily be used against him, and Slade couldn't just let him go. They had come too far. Dick trusted Slade, and vice versa. They had a good thing going for them.

It was decided.

Slade took a step into the gym where various people were working out. An old woman was using the elliptical in the corner, a man was bench pressing, and a child no older than twelve was running lazily on the treadmill. None of those people mattered. Slade's lone gray eye was fixed on Dick working through his routine directly in front of him. The boy had his back turned away from his master, and was unable to see him. The little boy running stopped mid-stride when he saw Slade enter, and he promptly fell off the back of the machine. The man chuckled slightly; he normally had that effect on people. After all; it wasn't everyday a man with an eye patch went waltzing down the street.

Nearing Dick, Slade cleared his throat to announce his presence. Dick's head turned toward him in acknowledgement, and he grunted a little as he pushed himself to his knees. Grabbing onto a bench, Dick pulled himself up. Turning to face Slade, he couldn't help but notice how Slade towered over him. Looking up, the boy fidgeted slightly, and offered a nervous laugh. Was Slade still in an unpleasant mood? The boy was soaked with sweat, and his hair, which had started to grow out again, was plastered on his forehead. Wiping some sweat from his eyes, Dick grabbed his water bottle and eyed Slade warily. If he was still in a bad mood, the raven haired boy didn't want to say or do anything that might push him over the edge. Dick watched as the corner of Slade's mouth twitched, almost like he wanted to say something, but wasn't sure how to put it into words. Honestly, he had never seen the man so hesitant. It was almost scary. Just as Dick was about to break the awkward air, Slade began to talk.

"How do you feel about baseball?"

Dick opened his mouth to respond, but hesitated. Was that code for something? "Umm… it's America's pasttime?"

Slade chuckled. "I mean; do you like it?"

He shrugged, and his eyebrows scrunched together in confusion. What was Slade getting at? "I suppose. I don't know much about it, never really played."

"That's un-American."

"I was always one for basketball, or volleyball. The only time I got to play baseball was in Gotham Academy, and I was Dick Grayson then. As you can probably figure out; it didn't end very well."

Slade eyed him seriously. "So you've never been to a baseball game?"

Dick's confusion only increased, but he answered none the less. "Not that I can remember. My dad may have taken me when I was younger, but I had to have been really little."

"How about seeing a Yankee's game?"

Dick jumped as if he had been pinched without a warning. "You mean like-like on TV?"

"In the stadium." Slade corrected the bewildered teen. "I have tickets for tomorrow. Would you like to go?"

"With you?"

"No, with Edward Elric." Slade said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Yes, with me."

Dick felt like he had swallowed a bag of cotton balls. His mouth had gotten dry all of a sudden, and his tongue flopped around in his mouth like a dying fish, simply refusing to form words. Was Slade really inviting him to a baseball game? It seemed unreal, and Dick concluded that he must have been dreaming, but his shoulder gave a painful throb proving that that was not the case. Taking a sip of water, Dick attempted to wet his dry mouth in order to speak. But he was unable to get his mouth to obey. Looking up at Slade with a quirked eyebrow, he seemed to ask if the older man was serious. In turn Slade nodded, and Dick, in what felt like forever; allowed himself to smile. If only a little.

"Yeah," he said, quietly. "I'd like that."

Slade nodded as if he expected that to be the outcome the whole time. For all Dick knew, Slade could have known the whole time. It wouldn't have surprised him at all. A strange feeling built up in his chest, a feeling that he thought was lost to him. It was by no means unpleasant. In fact, he sort of liked it. It was a warmth, spreading like a wildfire from the center of his very being. Maybe he was wrong, maybe Slade didn't think he was a complete waste of time. Surely Slade wouldn't waste good money on tickets for him if he didn't care. Right? Dick swallowed thickly. He hoped he was right.

Turning wordlessly, Slade stalked out of the gym, ignoring the little boy who was hurriedly telling his mother about the man in the eye patch. After a few moments of deliberation, Dick decided that it was in his best interest to follow. Nothing could match the overwhelming joy he felt as he abandoned his water bottle and chased after Slade. He had to pinch himself to make sure he wasn't dreaming. A year ago, if someone had told him that he would be excited about going to a baseball game with Slade, he would have dropkicked them in the forehead. Yes, he would have kicked them so hard their forehead would fall out from under them. But things had changed… Dick was nearly giggling from excitement when he exited the gym and found Slade waiting for him in the hallway. The man smiled at him briefly, then his gazed dropped to the boy's bound arm.

"How's your shoulder?"

"Could be worse." Dick smirked. "I won't be catching any foul balls though."

Slade studied him quietly. "Are you sure you want to go? You don't have to."

"Of course I want to go. It sounds like fun, but I'd rather go with Edward Elric."

Slade raised a questioning eyebrow. "Why is that?"

Dick's mouth twitched and grew into a smile. "He has cooler hair than you."

"That may be true," Slade said in a dead serious voice. "but I have an eye patch. Besides, I can grow a pony tail if I want."

"Will it flow in the breeze?"

"Keep it up and I will make you brush it."

Laughter burst from Dick's mouth, and before he knew it, he was hunched over clutching his aching ribs. He laughed so hard tears came to his eyes, but he made no move to wipe them away. Slade watched silently as the boy gasped for breath and tried to get his giggling under control. The sight actually brought a smile to his face. It was nice to hear Dick joke again, even if his quips were annoying, and sometimes stupid. For a while, Slade had been afraid that the boy would never smile again, but it seemed all Dick needed was a little motivation. Perhaps he was going about things all wrong, and Wintergreen was right. Slade would have to test that theory further, though he'd never admit that he was wrong.

"Are you going to the park today?" Slade asked once the boy was done laughing.

"Yeah," Dick answered, his tone suddenly changing from amused to wary. "I think I'll go now. I could use a break."

Slade caught the change in Dick's voice, but didn't say anything. Dick would tell him when he was ready. He didn't have to know everything. His young apprentice was entitled to a personal life, after all. Sure, he knew about Benjamin, but the old man was not a threat to his and Dick's still growing relationship. After the first day that Dick had wandered off to Central Park and returned in a considerably better mood, Slade had decided to follow him. It was not that Slade didn't trust him, no, Slade completely trusted him to make the right decisions. The man had followed Dick out of mere curiosity. He had simply wanted to know the cause of the boy's sudden mood change. Dick hadn't been quite the same since he had killed that man in Metropolis, but his daily visits to Benjamin seemed to help. At least, that's where Slade assumed he disappeared to everyday. He had only followed him that once.

The man removed a key from his pocket and pressed it into Dick's palm. The boy studied it in confusion for a moment before shooting Slade a questioning glance, which received no answer. Slade chuckled, and placed a hand on the acrobat's shoulder.

"You deserve a break." Slade said. "You've been working too hard."

"T-thank you," Dick stammered. "What's the key for?"

"I'm going out. You'll need a way back in, right?"

"Yes…" he trailed off. "Well, thanks."

Slade turned to leave, then looked around and turned to face Dick. "Apprentice?"

Immediately, Dick stood as straight as he could. "Yes, Master?"

"You know you can talk to me if something is bothering you, right?"

"Yes, Master."

The wind was cool as it blew against Dick's face. His hair swayed with it like it was doing some strange dance. It felt good. Summer was finally coming to a close, and the weather was bearable. The only downside was that Central Park was packed. People could be seen in every direction, not to mention the noise was almost deafening. Everywhere people were talking, and it drove Dick crazy. Why couldn't everywhere be as quiet and peaceful as their little house back in the country? Dogs were going wild, and birds were chirping annoyingly. Back at the house the only things Dick had to deal with were his thoughts, or rather Robin's. In New York, however, all he heard was the constant blaring of car horns and the chatter of ignorant people. Still, he had to admit that the Big Apple was better than Gotham.

His tastes had change drastically, but then again, so had he. Dick wasn't the same scared little boy that had watched his parents die before his eyes. Over the years he had changed, been modeled into what people wanted him to be, expected him to be. But when Slade came along his whole life changed, like some magnificent plot twist. At first, he had refused, but then Slade had opened up his eyes. Dick had always had potential, but he was never allowed to give it his all. Why? Because they were afraid of him, afraid of what he could do. Slade had given him the chance to show the world what he was made of. With Slade his talents no longer went to waste. Dick had always had potential, but he had been held back because everyone was afraid he's become too powerful.

The busy park was alive with activity. Everywhere he looked something was going on. A cop yelled at a young mother to get her toddler off the rocks, a college student was being dragged down the path by his dog. Dick couldn't blame any of them for being there, though. It was a beautiful day. Breaking through the tree line, Dick found that the pond had been over run. All of the benches had been taken up, and several people had laid out blankets for picnics. Letting his eyes scan over the large body of people, Dick did not see Benjamin anywhere. Furrowing his brow, Dick thought that couldn't be right. Checking again, he did not see the old man.

That day was the third in a row that Benjamin had failed to show up; So much for coming every day. Dick had been rather excited to tell him he and Slade were going to a Yankee's game, but his excitement was quickly replaced by worry. What could've kept Benjamin from his daily task? Was it him? Did Benjamin stop coming because he knew Dick's secret? Was he so utterly disturbed by the fact that Dick did not shy away from guns that he decided that he ever wanted to see the boy again? Or had something happened to him? Dick's heart sank, that seemed like the most logical answer. After all, the last time he had seen him Benjamin had said he's always be there for Dick. He wouldn't just up and leave after all that, would he?

With one last lingering glance over the crowd of people, Dick turned on his heel and headed back toward the line of trees. He'd have to stop by Sal's Bakery and see if Benjamin had been in recently. Walking briskly, Dick tried to recall exactly where the bakery was, Benjamin had said it was on the corner. However, he was in New York City, and there were a million corners. Sighing, he ran his uninjured hand through his dark locks. He exited Central Park just as a new wave people rolled in. Glancing to his left Dick saw rows upon rows of horse drawn carriages. Apparently the park was too crowded to enter.

Dick crossed the busy street, and walked toward the Plaza, but when he got on the sidewalk, he promptly turned left. A block or so down the road down the road he could see "SAL'S BAKERY, COME 'EN GET SOME" written in big, yellow letters. Absentmindedly, Dick fussed over his neck strap that was holding his arm up, and rubbing against his slightly damp skin. The sling was really uncomfortable, and he wished he could have ditched it, but there'd be hell to pay if he did. Not so much from Slade, no, the man would probably let it go. It was Wintergreen he was afraid of. He wiped some sweat from his neck, the damn thing was hot too.

As shiver ran down his spine despite the heat, and Dick found himself glancing over his shoulder as he walked toward the bakery. Something wasn't right, he felt like he was being followed. The river of faces all around was constantly moving, constantly changing. He could not lock onto any one face. Dick simply shrugged it off. He was just being paranoid. But no matter how much he told himself that, he could not believe it. Oh well, he'd just have to avoid getting into any taxi cabs. Dick smiled at his own little joke, and continued on his way. Yet, he could not shake the strange feeling that had overcome him.

Turning into Sal's Bakery, Dick moaned at the mile long line of people. The aroma of fresh baked goods made his mouth water. At the front of the store stood a case with numerous deserts inside. There were carrot cakes, cookies, and cheese cakes, and other assorted delicacies. It was like Dick had died and gone to Heaven. Actually, he could have died right then and there, and been content. However, he could have done without all of the people. There was no way in hell he was waiting, so he moved through the line, not so stealthily. People protested, but no one actually did anything. That really surprised him, he expected the people of New York to be more aggressive.

When Dick finally pushed his way to the front of the line, he found the person working at the counter glaring down at him. The man appeared to be in his early thirties. He had a clean shaven, oval face. A nose that hooked at the tip jutted out of his face, and big brown eyes that squinted down at him. A busing hat sat on top of his head full of blonde hair. There were wrinkles under his eyes either from squinting or laughing, Dick couldn't tell which. His outfit was completely composed of white, but each shade did not match the other. Flour littered his hands, and some was on his cheek. Pinned to his shirt was a name tag that read "Sal Jr.".

"I can help you," he said, shortly. "After you've waited in line."

"I'm not here to buy anything." Dick said, quickly. Though he'd have liked to buy something, he didn't have any money. "I came to talk to you, uh, I guess."

Sal Junior slapped his hands down on the counter, causing Dick to jump a little. "No! I will not take you up on your offer for hand modeling! I told you before! My life and devotion is here!"

Dick, not entirely sure what had just happened, smiled. "Sorry?"

Sal gave short laugh and moved away from the counter, while beckoning for Dick to follow. "How can I help you, son?"

"I have a friend who is a regular here, maybe you know him. His name is Benjamin Steiner; I haven't seen him in a few days."

He nodded and robbed his chin, dirtying his face further with flour. "Yeah, I know Ben, haven't seen him in a few day either. I was starting to get worried too."

Dick frowned. "So you haven't seen him?"

"Can't say that I have."

Dick opened his mouth to respond, but a sudden flicker of movement caught his attention. His eyes shifted from Sal to the window. A dark figure stood there, and he had to do a double take to make sure he wasn't seeing things. However, when he looked back, there was nothing there but the busy New York street. The strange event went right over his head. It was probably just a customer interested in buying sweets. Still, he had a weird feeling he could not shake. Deciding he just needed rest, Dick found it his best option to go home. Looking back at Sal, he found the older man gazing at him with a worried expression.

"Everything all right?"

"Yeah, I just thought-," Dick cocked his head to the side. "Never mind. It was nothing. I better get going."

Sal gave him a smile, looking slightly insulted. "Don't you want something?"

The young acrobat turned his pockets inside out. "I don't have any money."

"Come on; it's on the house."

Before Dick could protest, Sal disappeared behind the counter, leaving the boy. Every few seconds his eyes flickered over to the window, but he never saw anything out of the ordinary. Well, other than tourists stopping every couple seconds to take a picture, but that seemed like a regular in that city. A few minutes later, Sal returned with a small Styrofoam container clutched in his hand. He handed it to the boy, and inside Dick found a small cheesecake. Sal quickly explained that it was a red velvet cheesecake with chocolate cookie crust, a consumer favorite. Dick thanked him, and headed for the door, but stopped.

"Hey, Sal." He called.

"Huh?"

"You've got a little something-," he gestured to his own face where Sal had flour on his.

Sal wiped at his face only smearing the flour everywhere. He raised an eyebrow at Dick, silently asking if he got it. Dick laughed and gave him a thumbs up, then walked out into the busy city.

"How are you today, Mr. Smith?"

"Please call me Mickey, Raja."

"Yes, Mr. Smith."

Though it was slightly annoying, Dick still smiled. Raja, the elevator man was quiet for once. Dick knew it was because he was excited. It was his last day working at the Plaza. Raja had not been chosen to play the part of Zazu in The Lion King, mostly because he wasn't coordinated enough to work the puppets. But he did land the part of Dan in the musical Next to Normal. Dick wasn't familiar with the show, but he was happy for Raja none the less. At least he wouldn't have to put up with his idle small talk anymore. It kind of irritated him.

Thanking Raja, Dick stepped off of the elevator and onto his floor. The box of cheesecake was still clutched in his hand. He honestly couldn't wait to get back to the suite and dig in. Idly he wondered when Slade would return. Turning down his hall, he counted the door and stopped in front of his. The door to his suite was slightly ajar. The boy looked left and right, and found no maid trolleys in the immediate area. Searching his brain for a second, he realized that Slade had specifically asked that housekeeping not attend to their room. They couldn't risk some nosy maid stumbling upon their guns, knives, and secrets. Sure, she could easily be…dealt with, but both Dick and Slade preferred not to make a mess of things.

Dick slipped his knife out of his pocket, and slowly pushed open the door. There was no maid cart sitting within the suite as Dick had been hoping. Maybe Slade had gotten home early and the door hadn't shut the whole way. God, he hoped that was the case, but he knew it wasn't. Slade normally greeted him when he walked in. The young acrobat seriously debated on calling the man, but decided against it. What if he called Slade for absolutely nothing? Then he'd look like a complete fool, that's what. Whatever was going on, he could handle it himself. It was probably nothing anyway.

He most likely look pretty ridiculous wandering through the suite with his arm in a sling, carrying around a container of red velvet cheesecake, and wielding a knife in his other hand. After a full search of the entire place, Dick concluded that he had an over active imagination. Slipping his knife back into his pocket, he started toward the kitchen and dropped off his to-go container and the key Slade had given him. He planned to tear into the dessert the first possible chance he got, but he planned on changing first. His workout clothes reeked. Dick could barely stand the smell of himself; he wasn't sure how Sal could have put up with him.

Walking back the hall, the boy began to tear off his clothes before he even got into his room. Throwing the clothes into a messy pile on the floor, Dick flicked on the light and walked to the dresser. Slade had told him to take a break, so he intended to take the rest of the day off, and it would begin with him chowing down on his cheesecake. Pulling open his top drawer, Dick grabbed a pair of plaid, blue pajama pants, and his white "I heart New York" T-shirt. He was still sure that Slade had bought it just to spite him. With a grin, he quickly slipped it over his head, and threw on his pants.

Turning to his bed, he picked up his copy of One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest. He'd already read the book at least three times, but Wintergreen didn't know that. He assumed that the old man had packed it for when he finished Les Miserables, which had unfortunately been left in Metropolis. Just as Dick was about to exit his bedroom, something caught his eye. On the bureau beside his bed sat his Glock. Normally the gun rested within his night stand, and he could not remember taking it out recently. Plus, he wouldn't do something as stupid as leaving his weapon out in the open. Moving around the bed, Dick walked toward the night stand with his eyes narrowed.

"What the hell?" He murmured, reaching for the gun.

Stars exploded before his eyes as something heavy collided with the back of his head. Dick's body lurched forward as his knees buckled, and he fell like a ton of bricks to the unforgiving floor. There was a flash of a masked face before his world was completely engulfed in darkness.

He hadn't even had a chance to try his cheesecake…

Well, shit definitely just went down...and I feel bad for Dick because he never got to eat that cheesecake. One time, when Charlie and I were in New York on a school trip, we got red velvet cheesecake, it was amazing, and that's why Charlie included it in the story. Seriously though, I normally don't like cheesecake, but it was the greatest. Also, I'm really not sure about the references to Edward Elric from Fullmetal Alchemist...Charlie put them in there because I got her addicted to it, but I don't really get why Slade would be familiar with an anime aimed at teenagers.

And I'm not sure when the next update will be. Charlie's had writer's block as of late, and she's apparently getting the new Animal Crossing game for her birthday soon, and I know how addicting it is because I got it for Christmas. So yeah...don't expect much from us. Not that you do anyway.