Disclaimer: All copyright and credit goes to the original creators of the Teen Titans, Batman, and the DC Universe. This is for entertainment purposes only! I do not own any of the characters!

Author's Note: Yes, I know it has been about three weeks since my last update! So sorry! Life just gets in the way!

Thanks to everyone who reviewed the last chapter! Your encouragement and support helped me (finally) finish this chapter! Also thanks to everyone that Favorited/Followed!

Alright, I hope you enjoy!

Chapter 11

The First Morning

The faint morning light filtered through the windows into the dark room, and stray rays fell over objects, illuminating them in a soft glow. Thin fingers moved into the tentative light and shifted and turned under the morning haze. The hand reached out to the small sliver of sunlight and tried to grasp it in a tight hold. The elusive light slipped through her fingers however, and Starfire let out another quiet sigh.

Her hand dropped to her side, and she wrapped her arms around her slim body. The red glow of the sun peeked over the darkness in the distance. Her green eyes flickered and fell to the rays of sunlight that screeched across her body.

It was another morning.

And Robin still hadn't returned.

Two days. They hadn't heard a word from him in two days. Fiery, red hair fell into the alien girl's eyes as she pulled her arms around her body in a tight hold. Every day the team had gone looking for him, but they had found nothing. Cyborg had even tried locating his communicator, but the robotic boy said that it had gone offline. It was like Robin had just disappeared. The girl didn't understand it. She didn't understand what had happened or where Robin had gone. Had this villain, The Joker, hurt Robin? Was he in danger? Was the man of the bats okay?

The sun continued to climb in the sky, but the warmth from the glowing ball of energy seemed very far away.

The girl pressed her hand against the glass window in front of her as these questions and thoughts rained down in her mind. Never on her home planet had she felt this heavy before. Starfire held out her other hand and was barely able to make it to spark and crackle with green energy. Another sigh fell from her lips as the girl shifted her body.

This wasn't like the Robin she knew, to simply leave and disappear. This wasn't like the leader their team depended on. This wasn't like the boy she had met when she had arrived on Earth years ago. Her green eyes disappeared from sight as they blinked closed. Starfire inhaled a deep breath trying to find the rare warmth that glistened on his skin among the air that felt cold with worry and despair.

The girl opened her eyes and stood up, pressing her hand against the clear window. Starfire leaned against the glass, absorbing the view in front of her and becoming a silhouette against the rising sun. The water surrounding the tower beat in mild and smooth waves, and everything moved in perpetual motion. The distant trees swayed in the wind. The faraway buildings flickered with light. The cloudless sky was painted with a haze of colors.

Robin was gone, yet everything kept moving.

Everything except the young, alien girl…

She searched for the word. The word that could describe how she was feeling. It was the heavy weight of certainty that rested on her shoulders. It was the crushing pressure that constricted her heart. It was the icy prickle that traveled up her spine. Something had gone wrong. Robin should be back by now, but something had gone wrong. Something had stopped the boy from returning to the tower.

Something was keeping the Boy Wonder away.

Fear.

The word was whispered softly into her mind.

Fear. For their leader.

Fear. For the fact that they might never find him.

Fear. For the dread that he would not return.

Fear.

The young girl had never fathomed the depth of that emotion before.

The other Titans did not feel this way, for they had not seen what she had. The moment before Robin had left, they had locked eyes. It had been a brief, fleeting moment, but it had felt like a lifetime to the young girl. In that single instance she had seen a shadow of the boy behind the mask. The two had stared at each other with a raw reflection of emotions. The same fear in her eyes had been mirrored by the boy that had stood in front of her.

She had never seen him look so afraid before. She had never seen him so exposed.

They should have stopped him, followed him, or gone after him. They should not have let Robin face this enemy alone. The Titans should have done something.

She should have done something.

Another sigh escaped the girl's lips as she looked away from the sunrise and moved off toward the kitchen. Buried deep within her heart, a powerful flame of hope still burned with a blazing intensity. She reached inside for it now and felt a trickle of warmth flow through her veins. No matter how bleak things around her looked, no matter how despondent she grew, Starfire would always hope.

As the cold sun continued to rise in the sky, the flame buried in the girl continued to flicker.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

Slade's fingers drummed on the wooden table in a fluid rhythm as words bled past his eyes. The black and white print was of little interest to the man at the moment.

City council to vote over a bill…

Billionaire, Bruce Wayne, away on a business trip…

Company testing new alternatives to fuel…

All these breaking news headlines were trivial to Slade. The man flipped through the newspaper and held back a sigh. He didn't know why he even bothered to read these worthless sheets of gossip and speculation. He had access to more intelligence and information than any journalist could ever dream of encountering. The only reason he even got this ridiculous waste of money anymore was because William Wintergreen was a man of habit. And the old man loved to read the daily comics.

A hearty chuckle crackled in the air, and Slade glanced up to see Mr. Wintergreen artfully flip a pancake. The smell of sausage and bacon simmered in the air as he continued to multitask between cooking and reading his beloved comics. With a hand gripping the comic page, Mr. Wintergreen bounded through the kitchen, grabbing various ingredients and spices.

Slade may be a fearsome mercenary, but Wintergreen was a master chef.

"You really should try and read the comics one morning, Slade," Mr. Wintergreen said with a quiet chuckle.

A gray eye flickered over to the man.

"Evil villains don't read comics, Will."

"Ah, but the butlers of evil villains do."

"You're not my butler…" Slade muttered under his breath. He picked up his cup of coffee and felt the warm, dark liquid brush against his lips.

The sound of a pancake smacking a griddle reached Slade's highly honed ears.

"Then what exactly would you call me? A maid? A chef?" Mr. Wintergreen said while flourishing his spatula around in the air. The man pursed his lips thoughtfully. "Or maybe I'm more like your personal assistant –"

Slade tuned Wintergreen's monologue out as the older man continued to list off a variety of titles for himself. His eyes scanned over the black and white ink as he allowed the steaming coffee to run down his throat. It wasn't even nine o'clock in the morning and already a dull throb was beginning to grow in his head that even a massive amount of caffeine couldn't alleviate. The man sighed as he set his cup down.

"Earth to Slade! Are you even listening to me?"

The words pierced through Slade's haze of thinking and the man looked up, his gray eye meeting two irritated green orbs. Wintergreen's gaze poured into him, and Slade held back a sigh. There were only two things William Wintergreen despised in this world – being ignored and being ignored by Slade.

"The least you could do is pretend to listen to me, Slade! It's so rude to just-"

"Friend," Slade said, cutting the man off mid-sentence.

Mr. Wintergreen's eyes clouded in confusion, and the man hesitated in his movements. "What on Earth are you talki-"

He stopped as his eyes cleared in realization. A curious twinkle appeared in the green eyes, and a coy smile flickered onto his lips. For several seconds the two men regarded each other while a deep silence settled around them.

"Friend…Much better than a butler …" Mr. Wintergreen whispered to himself. The man blinked, breaking eye contact and returning to the multiple pots and pans he had on the stove. Slade lowered his eyes back down to the newspaper, aware that a small smile remained plastered to his friend's face.

An odd silence settled over the unusual pair. Slade held back the urge to shift in his seat as an uncomfortable feeling crept into him. It was rare for him to acknowledge the fact that he actually cared about the older man. He wasn't exactly the best at expressing his feelings, nor did Slade enjoy announcing them to the world.

It wasn't that the masked man didn't have a heart, he just choose to ignore it most of the time.

"I hope you feel ridiculous right now," Mr. Wintergreen said suddenly.

Slade snapped up as he was shaken out of his thoughts. Wintergreen's voice was laced with a devious tone that caused the masked man to raise an eyebrow in suspicion.

"I don't understand what you mean, Will."

"Because you certainly look ridiculous, eating breakfast in that preposterous mask of yours," the older man continued, oblivious to the fact that Slade had said anything at all. Another pancake hit the griddle with a loud sizzle.

Slade let out a sigh of annoyance as he prepared himself for the long monologue he was about to endure. He had heard this many times in the past years. As much as he cared about Will, the man could be a real pain in his –

"I know you use it to scare people, but a teenage boy, really? What is a boy like Robin going to do with your 'secret' identity – which isn't even a secret because he calls you by your first name!" the man drawled, cracking an egg into a silver bowl.

"Will, we have talked about this – "

"I mean, what is he going to do with your secret identify? Attack me? Because I am pretty sure I could flatten him with my spatula – the boy is all skin and bones."

Slade snorted at the absurd image that blared in his mind. It was a good thing Robin was still sound asleep, or Will would have a very offended teenager to deal with right now.

"Besides that!" Mr. Wintergreen said throwing open a drawer and pulling out a whisk. "I could never understand why you chose black and orange? You look like Halloween threw up on you."

Slade rolled his eye at the insult that had been hurled his way since the day he had made the mask. Will had never approved of his style of armor. For years the man had tried to get him to change it, with no such luck. So now the older man had settled into the routine of throwing various insults his way whenever he donned his uniform.

Mr. Wintergreen looked up as a clever glimmer entered into his green eyes.

"At least now I don't have to decorate for Halloween. I can just hang your costume up in the living room."

A sly smile cracked under Slade's mask.

"It's not a costume Will. It's a-"

"Oh uniform. Excuse me! It's your uniform! Not a costume at all – but a uniform! Must have slipped my mind!"

Slade's smile grew under his mask as he turned his attention back to the newspaper in front of him. The aroma of bacon and eggs sifted through the air, and his hungry stomach growled in anticipation.

Seriousness fell across the older man as his green eyes grew slightly distant. The air in the kitchen calmed as Wintergreen's thoughts spiraled down to the topic that was causing Slade so much trouble.

"It was interesting that the boy came to you for help, Slade. Can't say I wasn't surprised, and not much can surprise an old man like me."

Slade sighed to himself and spun his finger around the edge of his coffee cup. He himself still didn't understand Robin's actions. Why of all people would the boy to turn to his archenemy? The boy and himself had never been on good terms and if Robin knew what he had done…

Well, that would be a completely different story.

Slade stared into the dark liquid that swirled around in his mug as his emotions collided into one another. A somewhat decent night's sleep hadn't done an ounce of good. He was still heavily frustrated with the ridiculous and absurd thoughts that clouded his brain.

"I mean," Will continued, "I thought the boy absolutely hated you."

"He does," Slade replied while pulling the mug up to his lips.

"Hmm, then why would he ask you, of all people, for help? Wasn't he the one you tried to get to be your apprentice?"

Another sigh escaped Slade's lips. That was a sore topic for him. He didn't regret his actions towards Robin, but looking back on it now, there had been many other ways he could have gone about it. Instead his supposedly fool-proof plan had crashed and burned into the ground – literally.

"Yes, why?"

"I was just thinking…maybe the boy on some subconscious level trusts you, Slade. And maybe being, half delirious brought that trust to the surface."

Slade snorted, causing some droplets of coffee to spread over the table. "You're being half delirious, Will."

"Well he was almost dead when he came here. It was a shame I was out running errands or I could have helped him earlier," the man said, pausing thoughtfully. "It was a good thing you were able to match his blood type with your own. Did you tell him that you gave him a blood transplant while he was passed out?"

"I did a lot of things to help him recover, Will. What Robin doesn't know won't hurt him," Slade said with a low sigh. The boy would be absolutely ravenous if he realized Slade had given him a blood transplant. He would probably develop some absurd fear that the blood would cause him to become an insane, criminal mastermind. So Slade had decided to keep the details vague. He hadn't complexly lied about the serum he injected Robin with when the boy had woken up. It did help Robin's blood cells reproduce faster, but it also took away the regenerative property Slade's blood cells contained. The boy wasn't superhuman, and Slade planned to keep it that way.

"Well it was a good thing that you got here when you did. The boy is fascinating, though. Isn't he?" Will said, briefly glancing at Slade.

"Fascinatingly stubborn," Slade muttered under his breath.

"Reminds me of your younger self Slade." Wintergreen said with a chuckle.

"I was never stubborn, you senile man. I listened to authority."

"Oh really? My senile brain seems to remember a time when you disregarded authority to go and save your friend from-"

"That was different," Slade said cutting Mr. Wintergreen off with a wave of his hand, "You would've died."

"Oh so the fact that Batman is the one in trouble, makes it different?"

Slade paused and looked up at the man. Just what was the old man getting at? He had given Robin his word that he would help him, so why was the man bringing this subject up? Slade was about to pester Will for more information when a small shadow flickered in the hallway. The two men made eye contact, and a knowing smile spread over Wintergreen's face.

"Think about it. Anyway it seems the boy also has adopted some of your other younger habits," Will said while a sing-song note entered his voice.

"Eavesdropping was a nasty habit of mine wasn't it, Will? Did you sleep alright Robin?" Slade responded, directing the second part towards the hallway.

After a few seconds, a flushed and flustered looking Robin appeared in the kitchen and indignantly looked up at Slade. Mr. Wintergreen's hawk-like eyes scanned over the boy, and he clicked his tongue in disapproval.

"I wasn't eavesdropping."

"Really? Then what were you doing?" Slade responded smoothly, fixing Robin with a steely stare.

"Listening…"

"To our conversation? Without our knowledge? Now that sounds like eavesdropping, Robin."

"Well apparently you knew," Robin huffed crossing his arms, his annoyance growing.

"I don't miss much," Slade replied glancing down at the newspaper.

"I know," Robin mumbled, slightly distant. Slade immediately shot the boy a dark look. However before he could question him further, Wintergreen stepped in, clearly upset about something.

"Change out of that ridiculously torn and disheveled costume. And go take a shower like a dignified and respectable child!" the man yelled, brandishing his spatula at the boy. Robin stumbled backward as the man advanced upon him, his eyes flickering down to his outfit.

Now that Will had mentioned it, Robin did look terrible. Dirt and grime covered his torn costume and face while his hair stuck out at awkward and unusual angles. Slade barely managed to repress a smile under his mask as Will grabbed the boy by his shoulders and shook him softly.

"There are clean clothes in the dresser by the bed, and a shower right off your room."

"But-" The boy stuttered, clearly disconcerted by the ravenous man that was trying to shove him back down the hallway.

"Go and shower! No guest of mine is going to walk around covered in soot and grime," the man persisted, waving his spatula in front of Robin's face. The boy continued to stumble back, his eyes flickering to the two men.

With a forceful push, Mr. Wintergreen sent Robin spiraling back down the hallway and glared his beady eyes at the boy. Robin turned around and opened his mouth in protest.

The two beady eyes narrowed. "Don't make me use this spatula, boy!" the man said while folding his arms across his chest.

Mr. Wintergreen watched as the boy blinked at him several times before a sigh escaped his lips, and he obediently walked back to his room. Robin turned back to look at him, and Mr. Wintergreen waved his spatula around in the air. With another sigh of annoyance, the boy disappeared back inside of the room.

Will huffed, muttering to himself and turned back to the kitchen. He walked over to the griddle and growled in annoyance as some of his pancakes were now charred. A quiet chuckle reached the older man's ears, and he looked up to see Slade gazing at him with an amused glint in his eye.

"Well someone has to take care of the boy around here," the man scoffed flipping a partially burned pancake.

Slade shook his head and focused back on the newspaper in front of him.

"I've never seen Robin so terrified of a spatula before," Slade said with a snort.

Mr. Wintergreen rolled his eyes at his friend and continued enlarging his stack of cooked pancakes. Several seconds of silence passed between the two men.

SMACK.

Slade bolted upright and whirled around to see Mr. Wintergreen's spatula slammed down on the counter. His green eyes were wide with a sudden revelation.

"Hair gel!" the man cried, dropping all of his tools and pulling off his stained apron.

Slade raised a quizzical eyebrow under his mask at the frenzy state Wintergreen suddenly dropped into.

"Hair gel?"

"Yes! The boy uses hair gel!" Wintergreen continued, hustling for the door and forgetting about the large amount of skillets and pans that were still on the stove top.

"I don't und-"

"What sort of host am I if the boy doesn't have any hair gel?" the man said to himself while ripping down his coat from the hanger by the door. Slade's eye flashed to the man and then to the large amount of food still cooking on the stove. He slowly stood up as alarm began to course into his veins.

"Will, I think the boy will be okay without hair gel."

The words didn't even register with the older man as he buttoned his coat and pulled out his wallet. His gray eyebrows furrowed in concentration as he counted his money. "Should be enough," he muttered to himself.

Slade rose to his full height as he continued to look at the numerous number of sizzling pans on the stove. Will wasn't just going to leave…

"I'll be back soon, Slade. I'm sure you can handle the kitchen until then," The man said while opening the door. His green eyes gazed over to Slade, and a devious smile spread over his face.

"Will! I don't-"

With a knowing wink the door was slammed close, and the older man was gone.

Slade stood there for a full five seconds, disbelief anchoring him to the ground. How could he just leave like that all for a negligible bottle of hair gel? Slade was sure Robin would be quite fine without it. But alas, Will was always trying to make sure everything was perfect around the house - even if that meant buying a simple bottle of hair gel for a teenage boy.

The man's gray eye turned over to the chaotic kitchen as a feeling of dread settled inside of him. The last time he had tried to cook, he had almost burned the kitchen to the ground. Slade couldn't remember what had been harder, putting out the fire or facing the wrath of a very mad chef.

Slade glanced back and forth between the closed door and the steaming pots and pans on the stove. When he finally decided that Wintergreen wasn't playing a cruel prank on him, the man let out a gruff of annoyance, rolled his eye, and marched toward the kitchen, suddenly feeling absolutely ridiculous.

It was just breakfast.

How hard could it be?

Author's Note:

Let me know what you think of this chapter! I tried to keep it on the lighter side since other chapters have been very intense. Feedback is much appreciated!

Hopefully I'll be able to update more often...so until the next update...

Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed it:)