Monday, 7 December ~* It? *~

Robin woke at three in the morning. He had slept badly. Lots of disturbing stress-induced dreams, many including old cases and missions. It was like being in this house, in this room, activated his memories of his old life, sending signals to him to wake, to work again. He felt rather miserable when he dragged himself out of bed, but figured that a bathroom break and some water was what he'd need to be able to sleep again.

Once up, though, his feet took him out into the hallway. He knew Slade hade gotten the room opposite his, and he couldn't help himself. He quietly opened the door and peeked in. The bed was empty. Not slept in.

The urge to check on the man took him down into the cave. The lights and screens were on, but no clicking from a keyboard was heard. He finally could see the work station, where the man had been sitting, clearly. The shape of a large body was sprawled out on the floor.

"Slade!" Robin rushed up to the man, who didn't react. He carefully tried shaking him, but the man seemed to be out cold. He couldn't see any wounds, at least not new ones, and his breathing and pulse were even, but slow.

"He seems to have just passed out," Bruce said. Robin had rushed to wake the man up, and they had both gotten the man to his bedroom with the help of a very handy wheel chair that Bruce had had stacked away.

"What on earth?" they heard behind them.

"Oh, Al, I'm sorry, I didn't want to wake you up," Robin told the old butler.

"Pish-posh, if something is going on in this house, I'm entitled to know about it," the man tutted. "Should I call a doctor?"

"I don't think we need to. I think he's just worn out. Who knows if he has been sleeping at all since he managed to escape," Bruce said. "And if his metabolism is as jacked up as it is, he probably needs sleep too. We'll keep an eye on him."

"I'll watch him," Robin said.

"I doubt we have to keep him under surveillance, just check on him now and then," the Dark Knight snorted.

"I'll watch him," Robin repeated firmly.

"I'll fetch a snack and some water. Something that will keep, just in case he wakes up hungry," Alfred let them know.

"I'm going back to bed," Bruce announced. "He'll be fine, Dick. Get some rest."

The teen just nodded, but curled up in a chair close to the bed instead, where he could see the slow rise and fall of the man's chest.

As actual dawn slowly approached, Robin had had lots of time to think. Mostly about Slade, and his feelings towards the man. Seeing him on the floor had absolutely terrified him. It gutted him to see him in bed, possibly worse off than they knew. It was still difficult for him to reach that amazingly warm, flowery, woozy feeling she remembered having for months before that fateful night. That feeling had grown slowly, from a faint tingle, and been suddenly completely stomped out that morning and the days and weeks that followed. He wasn't sure he'd ever be able to feel it again. For anyone. But there was something there. Something warm. Something he yearned to feel fully. All it needed was a bit more time. He hoped he had that.

He was starting to feel hungry. He didn't really have an appetite; it was more a realization that he should eat something. Soon he was back in the chair, a cup of tea in his hands and a plate of sandwiches balanced on his knee. It was green tea with vanilla and mango. It was ok, rather soothing. He stayed by the man's side until it was time for class. Slade didn't as much as stir.

To be Continued…