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!

A/N: HELLO wonderful readers! Three Weeks! I apologize now...I didn't think it would take this long to update! SO sorry!

Anyways...

Thanks for all the reviews/favorites/follows! I APPRECIATE ALL OF YOU:)

OK, chapter 13! This one is looong:) Enjoy!

Chapter 13

Hardest Feat

"Anything you want to talk about?"

After a few, painful seconds the boy lifted his head off the table and pressed his chin into his arms. The kind words hardly made a dent in the thick, chaotic, pounding that clouded Robin's mind. He raised a tired eyebrow at the withered look he received and shook his head.

"No," Robin muttered while burying his head back into his arms, "There's nothing to talk about."

A loud snort and the clinging of silverware reached his ears.

"Now that's the biggest load of crap I have ever heard."

Robin dug his blue eyes out from under his arms and peered up at the older man. Wintergreen lowered the newspaper down, and his lips lifted into a small smile.

"If you don't talk about it, it won't get better," the man said, taking another bite out of the fluffy pancake.

The boy retreated back into his arms and let out a long sigh. Wintergreen didn't seem to understand something – he didn't talk about his problems. In fact, most of the time he chose not to acknowledge them at all. After his parents died, he had learned how to bury his torments deep inside himself. He never talked about them to anyone – not to Batman, not to Alfred, and especially not to the Titans. Instead, he would push his problems aside and try to ignore them. He would immerse himself in his work and try to forget them. He would hide under his mask and try to escape from them.

So there was no way – no freaking way – that he was going to unload his problems on a (possibly insane) old man.

"I'm too hungry to talk right now," Robin mumbled, finally deciding on a reasonable excuse.

"Now, a while ago you weren't too hungry to go racing off looking for Batman. And now you're trying to tell me you're too hungry to talk?" Mr. Wintergreen said while buttering another pancake. "Very interesting stomach you have there. It will inhibit your ability to talk but not to fight like an uncivilized human being."

"Fighting is not uncivilized…" the boy muttered to himself, annoyed by Wintergreen's insult.

The man hardly blinked at the boy's comment and continued on with his speech, clearly unperturbed.

"Hmmm. I wish Slade had a stomach like yours then. He just doesn't understand when his commentary isn't wanted."

Robin couldn't suppress the large rebellious smile that spread across his face. His masked eyes poked up through his arms as he allowed a light laugh to break through his defenses.

"Slade sure does like his monologues."

"Oh my word. Don't get him started on something or the man will not shut up," Mr. Wintergreen cried throwing his hand in the air and brandishing around the butter knife like a sword.

The smile grew in size as he watched the older man dramatically continue to butter his pancakes.

"There have been many occasions when I have wanted to whack that absurd mask off his face just to get him to shut up, mind you," Wintergreen commented, pursing his lips.

The boy allowed his chin to fall into his arms as a quiet sigh escaped him. The smile flickered and died away as the pounding in his head and the previous statement brought him back to reality. "Yeah…" Robin trailed off, his gaze lowering down to his hands.

A silence settled over the unusual pair, broken only by the dull and sporadic clinks of silverware. Robin withheld another sigh as he tried to calculate his next move. It appeared for the moment that he was stuck – with possibly the two most insane human beings on the planet. His eyes flashed back up to the older man and hastily looked away when he found a pair of green eyes focused on him.

"Tell me, why did you ask him for help?"

The question threw the young boy off his perilous train of thought.

"What?"

The man didn't miss a beat as he reiterated himself. "Why did you ask Slade for help? I thought you hated the man," Wintergreen said while taking a long sip of his tea.

Robin snorted, rolling his eyes. "I've always hated Slade."

"Why?"

The word caused Robin's brain to freeze in its train of thought. No one had really ever asked Robin why he hated Slade. It was merely an assumed, axiomatic fact around the hero community.

The boy shrugged.

"Always have. Always will."

Mr. Wintergreen hummed thoughtfully to himself while drumming his fingers on the wooden table. The soft vibrations gently shook Robin's arms. "Then why did you ask the man you abhor so much for help?"

Robin blinked. "I-" he immediately clamped his mouth shut as survival instincts kicked in. He was not simply about to unload his thoughts and issues onto this man. He couldn't afford to look weak, especially in the presence of an enemy.

Even if the man had saved him from Slade's wrath…

"Come now, I won't judge," Mr. Wintergreen mockingly reprimanded while directing his warm gaze as Robin's masked face.

The boy shifted in his seat, the wooden chair suddenly feeling very uncomfortable. Don't look into those eyes. Don't. Just don't. Ignore it, and it just might go away. Don't look up –

"Robin…"

Despite the continual warnings from his mind, Robin's blue eyes flickered up and were immediately trapped in a warm gaze. A soft smile sunk into the boy as he stared into the cavernous depths of the two, crystal green orbs. They were clear from any judgment or prejudice and slowly pulled the lock open from around his mouth. The look was so familiar it reminded Robin of another time…a moment in his past that had been branded into his heart…

Soft black hair brushed against his skin as she leaned over. The smell of lavender from the shampoo she habitually used filled his mind as gentle hands cupped his cheeks.

"What's wrong?" his mother whispered as she wiped away the tears running down his cheeks. Another pair of hands gripped his shoulders and squeezed them tightly in a loving and reassuring hold.

"Richard," a second, deeper voice said, leaning in closer to him. "Please talk to us."

The voice buried its way deep inside the little boy, and he furiously shook his head. He didn't want to talk to anyone right now. More tears drained down his face as the two parents exchanged worried looks. The man sat down beside the boy and wrapped his hands around Robin's waist, pulling him into a soft hug. His mother ran her thin fingers through his raven colored hair, trying to pull her son out of the worrying silence that had settled around him.

"My little Robin, please…look at me…" she whispered, warmth and concern filling her voice.

The words pulled at the boy. They tugged at him until his eyes floated up. His mother smiled, her hands gently stroking his cheeks. Her eyes. Her crystal, blue eyes were so warm and soft. One look into her eyes, and the walls around the boy immediately melted, and little Robin opened his heart to his parents…

Robin snapped back to the present as he felt the green eyes bury their gaze into him. It was that same look. That same blasted look that his mother had always used on him when he had refused to speak with her. Where had Wintergreen learned such a look? Surely not from Slade…somehow Robin couldn't imagine Slade ever having anything other than a cocky smirk or a menacing glare on his smug face.

The boy took a deep breath as the walls holding him back began to crack.

"I…I was injured badly…"

The man nodded, staying quiet and setting his fork down.

"I needed help…and my communicator had been crushed but even then...I-I just didn't want…" Robin paused taking a deep breath as he tried to control the emotions rising up inside of him. Now was not the time to have a mental breakdown.

"You didn't want what, Robin?" the man asked softly. His voice was so soft and earnest; it gave Robin an odd sense of safety. It filled him with a comforting presence and gave him the strength to continue.

"I guess…I didn't want the Titans to see me that way. I'm supposed to be fearless and strong…not helpless and weak," the boy whispered, finally facing the deep rooted fear within his words.

"Yet, you didn't mind your arch-enemy seeing you that way."

Robin furrowed his brow and looked away. "It's different with a villain. A villain expects you to fail and will eventually see you at your lowest point one way or another. With the Titans…I can't afford to fail– I can't let them see their leader be defeated. I'm the one that holds them together. I have to be strong. I have to set the example. It's what Batman taught me…"

"That's a lot of pressure you put on yourself," Mr. Wintergreen said, leaning forward with a worried expression etched into his face.

Robin shrugged the concern off.

"It's the responsibility of being a leader," he mumbled, shifting in his seat. A few seconds of heavy silence hung between them.

Mr. Wintergreen cleared his throat and leaned farther forward. "Please, I'm still a little unclear on something though. Why Slade? I've heard out of all the Titans, you have a personal vendetta against him and that the two of you don't have a very good history," Mr. Wintergreen said while pushing his plate away and focusing all his attention on the boy.

Robin flinched, rubbing his arms as unpleasant memories filtered into his mind. "Understatement of the century," he mumbled, ignoring the look that darkened even further with worry. Words spilled freely from the boy's mouth now as the wall holding them back had finally shattered.

"I guess…I figured if Batman got captured by the Joker, I needed someone who was as good as Batman," Robin whispered, taking a deep breath. "I never thought Slade would actually help me – it had been a blind shot in the dark."

Wintergreen leaned back in his chair as his withered hand stroked his chin, absorbing the information.

"Why would you think that Slade wouldn't help you?"

Robin's mouth dropped to the floor, completely dumbfounded.

"Because it's FREAKING SLADE! A psychopathic, evil, insane villain hell bent on destroying the Titans and forcing me into becoming his –" Robin broke off as his wave of anger was dried up by the last thought.

Apprentice.

He took a calming breath as his throat became unnaturally dry and dragged a shaky hand through his hair. That one word had absolute power over his mind. Every time he thought of it, his body completely shut down.

"He seemed to be the only one I could turn to," Robin whispered, facing the truth in his own words. "As much as I hate to say it, the man is wicked smart and can find a weakness in anyone. I figured if there was one person that could beat the Joker, it would be him, but at a cost. Slade never does anything that doesn't benefit himself. And when this is over, I'm afraid that cost will be too high to pay…" the boy finished, the strength in his words draining away. He slumped down into his chair as he buried his head into his hands. "That's why…that's why I'm worried. I don't know what that cost is. I hope he doesn't…I mean…I don't think I could win again…last time I barely got away….if he tries again, I..." the boy finished with a sigh.

His eyes flickered up and gazed at very concerned Wintergreen. The man's deep green eyes were creased into a deep concentration as he held Robin in his troubled gaze. Behind his mask, Robin's eyes burned with a deep pain that threatened to burst forth. He rapidly blinked, trying to force the emotions down within himself.

A gentle pressure pulled Robin back to the present, and he glanced down at the lightly wrinkled hand that covered his own. A fluid shock flowed through the boy as he felt the man squeeze his hand lightly.

Mr. Wintergreen whispered softly into the thick silence, "If Slade tries what again, Robin?"

Robin swallowed, his dry throat constricting. His brain screamed at him to pull his hand away from the older man and to shut up and stop talking. But something about the man, something about this mysterious, senile man pulled at his heart and broke down his defenses. His eyes traveled up from his hand and up to those glistening, green eyes.

Here it was – the fear that haunted Robin day and night, the fear that constantly kept him on guard, the fear that drove a wedge between him and the Titans. Could he tell Mr. Wintergreen this? Could he trust the man? The hand squeezed Robin's assuredly as if sensing his internal battle. It was hard enough talking about his problems, but now it seems as if he was unleashing them all onto a person he had only known for one day. His mind and reasoning encroached on his brain, and the boy hesitated.

He shouldn't do this. Wintergreen was a friend of his enemy, his arch enemy. Robin blinked as a treasonous thought wormed its way into his brain. But was Slade really his enemy anymore? He glanced back up at those green eyes, and a sense of strength and trust coursed through Robin. The man before him certainly didn't seem like his enemy. The green eyes held a strange warmth that he had not felt since his mother's death. It was odd. It was reassuring. And it was the final push the boy needed to unleash his greatest fear.

"If he…if…Slade," Robin stuttered, "If Slade forced me to be his apprentice again…I don't think I would be able to escape..."

Robin watched as Mr. Wintergreen released his hand and leaned back, studying him, his face betraying nothing. Seconds ticked by, and Robin began to grow uneasy as a small amount panic flickered inside of him. The old man probably thought Robin should be Slade's apprentice. Wintergreen wouldn't understand how terrible and detrimental the experience had been for him. The older man wouldn't understand the pain that had shredded his mental and emotional strength. He could never understand the terror Slade had carved into him, and the fear haunted his every step.

"You could escape, I have no doubt," Mr. Wintergreen drawled while standing up and gathering his dirty dishes together.

What?

Did this man just agree with him?

Robin opened and closed his mouth, at a loss for words. "What…b-but…"

Mr. Wintergreen turned to faced Robin, a mischievous twinkle in his eyes.

"Oh you would win, Robin," Mr. Wintergreen said.

"B-but, you don't understand! I-"

"You would win," Mr. Wintergreen continued, cutting Robin off with a wave of his hand, "Because I would make sure of it."

Wait…

WHAT?

At Robin's shocked face, the older man allowed a hearty chuckle to escape his lips and shook his head. The bright, warm noise enveloped the room, breaking through the shock that coursed through the boy's mind.

"I'll never let Slade force you into another apprenticeship. If I had been living with him when he had first tried, it never would have even happened," Mr. Wintergreen said, submerging his plates under water and throwing Robin a wink.

"But Mr. Wintergreen, Slade…You don't understand – he wouldn't listen to you," Robin stuttered. The man raised his thick eyebrows as a small smirk washed over his face.

"Slade would listen to me, Robin. I have my ways," the man said ominously as a devious glimmer entered his eyes.

The boy didn't know what to say. He was at a loss for words – speechless, flabbergasted, and dumbfounded. But despite the shock that ran through his veins, Robin felt the beginnings of something he hadn't felt in a long time.

Peace.

It was a strange sensation that washed through his body, pushing away the fear that had haunted him for so long. As bizarre as it was, Robin believed Wintergreen. He believed Wintergreen wouldn't let Slade coerce him into being the man's apprentice again. He believed the older man would hold true to his word. He believed Slade would listen to Wintergreen.

This senile, old man has more power over Slade – the world's most dangerous, psychopathic villain – than any superhero would ever dream of having.

"Why?" Robin asked simply. Why?

Wintergreen's body softened as his eyes grew unfocused, deep in thought. "You're too much of a free spirit to be caged, Robin," the man whispered.

Words could not explain the sheer amount of emotions that flooded over him in that single instance. The boy closed his eyes as two words escaped his mouth – words he hadn't said in a very long time.

"Thank you…"

A light chuckle broke through the air. "Think nothing of it, lad. Someone has to try to keep the man in line," Mr. Wintergreen remarked with a quick wave of his hand.

Robin couldn't explain the relief that flowed through him. He could finally be at peace with his worst nightmare. Mr. Wintergreen would make sure that he was never Slade's apprentice again – and he was fairly certain the older man would stay true to his word. Robin let out a long breath. Sure Slade would still be up to his criminal ways, but it was better than always having to constantly look over his shoulder, fearing that the man would appear with a new form of blackmail.

It was odd feeling, sitting in his arch enemy's house completely at peace.

It didn't last long however as the boy shifted in his seat, and his eyes flickered up to the clock. In a single moment everything came flooding back to the boy. Morning was nearing afternoon, and he had hardly even started to develop another plan to save Batman. He glanced back up at the older man as a dim hope washed through him.

"So…can I just um go now?" Robin asked trying his best to keep his tone subservient and respectful.

Wintergreen hardly blinked.

"Of course not! I meant what I said. You and Slade need to apologize to each other. And then you need to eat breakfast. Honestly boy, you're all skin and bones," Mr. Wintergreen said, turning away. "I could break you with my spatula if I wanted too," the man proceeded to mutter, too quiet for Robin's trained ears to hear.

Robin groaned, slamming his head on the table.

"Mr. Wintergreen, that won't happen in a million years!" Robin cried, grumbling into the wooden table. No matter how understanding and compassionate the older man was, he was still extremely obstinate in his ways.

"Oh I have time," Will hummed thoughtfully.

"Well I don't!" Robin snapped, shooting the man a glare. "I need to be out there searching for Batman."

"Well Batman is just going to have to wait until you settle this with Slade, lad," Mr. Wintergreen continued, unperturbed by Robin's coarse attitude.

A loud groan escaped the boy's lips as he realized that the older man was not going to relent. It appeared he really was going to be stuck here for the next million years.

"Why did Slade even agree to help me?" Robin mumbled, crossing his arms over his chest. A hefty chuckle caused the boy to glance up.

Wintergreen was leaning against the countertop, an odd glimmer in his old, green eyes. "He cares about you Robin. Slade will never admit it, but it's true."

Robin snorted and shook his head. Slade caring? Those two words didn't even belong in the same sentence. There was no freaking way Slade cared about anyone other than himself. The psychopath was too selfish to even consider anything other than world domination. Well that…and maybe Will too...maybe…

"Because you always attempt to hurt, kill, and ruin the lives of people you care about, Mr. Wintergreen," Robin scoffed, rolling his eyes.

"True," the man relented, "But when Slade found you in the haunt unconscious, he was absolutely disconcerted. You had lost a lot of blood Robin – a lot. When I arrived at the haunt, I've never seen Slade so concerned before, or worried for that part. He worked at lighting speed to keep you alive. So in my book, if Slade didn't care about you, he wouldn't have worried." Mr. Wintergreen set his elbow on the countertop and rested his head on it, fixing Robin with an honest stare.

Slade had been worried? That emotion just didn't even seem possible for the man.

"Mr. Wintergreen, if I lost a lot of blood, why wasn't I dizzy, drowsy, or weak when I woke up…I felt…fine…what…" Robin trailed off, his thoughts racing a mile a minute. Slowly he began to fit the pieces together and his mouth dropped open in horror.

"No. He freaking didn't."

Mr. Wintergreen nodded, a smile flickering onto his lips.

"Among other things, he gave you a blood transplant, Robin," Mr. Wintergreen said softly.

Robin slammed his eyes shut as the words knocked the air out of his lungs. SLADE had given him a blood transplant. His freaking archenemy of all people! Just great. That was just freaking fabulous. As if he didn't have enough to worry about – now he had a freaking psychopath's blood in his body! Robin groaned and slammed his head on the table again. He flinched as he thought of Slade's blood pumping through his veins. He was certainly bound to go insane now. Why did Slade even bother to give him a blood transplant? It was odd for the man to actually help him…

Unless…

Unless, what Mr. Wintergreen was saying was true. Did Slade…dare Robin say it…care?

The green eyes softened as the older man sighed. "Now you see my point. However what you decide to do with this new knowledge is up to you. Slade is in the gym down the hall – the first set of stairs to your right. I'm sure he wouldn't mind some company," Mr. Wintergreen said gently while walking toward Robin.

Robin heard the footsteps approach him, and he blinked his eyes open. Mr. Wintergreen laid a gentle hand on Robin's shoulder, and his eyes met Robin's masked ones. A shudder traveled through Robin as he felt the man see under the mask. He felt the gaze search beyond the layers of protection, the false identity, the barricade of emotions. He felt the man see him – Richard Grayson – the scared boy hidden away under a mask.

"I can't force you to do anything. I can only encourage you to do the right thing," Mr. Wintergreen whispered, squeezing his shoulder.

For a moment, a tendril of understanding passed between the odd pair before Wintergreen retracted his hand and pulled away.

"I'll be in the laundry room, if you need me," Mr. Wintergreen said shuffling away like a quiet specter.

Robin heard the older man leave, but his head stayed glued to the table.

What the heck was he supposed to do now?

Conflicting emotions burned inside his thundering heart. He couldn't stay here. He needed to leave, find Batman, develop a plan, contact the Titans – do something, anything at all. But he could leave without apologizing to Slade, and there was no chance he would ever apologize to a villain…right?

Could he swallow his pride and actually apologize? He growled, feeling his frustrations scorch his lips. As much as he hated it, he had been slightly – just barely – disrespectful to the man that had agreed to help him. That was of course overlooking the fact that the man was a murdering criminal and had saved him and then proceeded to beat him to a pulp over the past twenty four hours. Robin rubbed a hand against his face.

Why did everything have to be so difficult? Why couldn't Slade just have shut up and helped him rescue Batman? Why did the man insist on him eating and sleeping?

Why did the man care?

Robin was lost - completely and utterly lost at what to do. Everything seemed obscured, blurred, a dreadful haze of gray. What was he supposed to do? Who was he supposed to turn too? How was he supposed to stand up for his beliefs by apologizing to a villain? How was he supposed to stay a hero if he relented to an evil mastermind?

A single person entered his mind, and Robin sighed. In times of trouble, Robin always thought about this person. It was the one person who always brought clarity to a situation whether he liked it or not.

Mary Loyd Grayson.

His mother.

The one person he could always rely on. The one person who had never failed him. The one person he had always trusted.

So what would his mother do?

Well, that answer was clear.

She would expect him to apologize.

No matter the circumstances.

Robin let out a long groan. This just wasn't fair. No matter which way he looked at it though, he couldn't find a way out of this conundrum. Mary always believed in forgiveness – no matter the situation, person, or predicament.

"Forgiveness is the most powerful a weapon a person can have, my little Robin."

The words echoed in his head. His mother never feared rejection or the most evil of hearts. She always held the belief that there was good in everyone – a belief that Robin could never accept after his parents' cruel deaths. There was no good in the heart of Tony Zucco, the man that had murdered them. A burning hatred still blazed in his heart for that man. He could never forgive Zucco for stripping his innocence at such a young age. He could never forgive the man for taking the precious lives of his parents. He could never forgive the evil the man had committed.

And he could never forgive himself for not warning his parents in time.

Young Dick Grayson had overheard the crime boss planning his parents' deaths when the circus owner wouldn't pay for 'protection money'. So Tony had his thugs sabotage the trapeze wires, burning them through with acid. When he tried to tell his parents, Mary simply laughed and had responded in her sweet voice.

"Nothing is going to go wrong, my little Robin. It never does."

But everything had gone wrong. The Trapeze wires snapped, and Mary and John Grayson fell to their deaths. And Robin had witnessed the whole thing.

Dick Grayson was the last living member of the 'Flying Graysons' and he had never been the same after the event.

Zucco should be dead, Robin swore bitterly. He had come so close – so painstakingly close – to killing the man. But Batman had been there. Batman had stopped him. Batman had pulled him back. Batman had let Zucco live.

And the guilt had never gone away.

Unlike Mary, Dick's outlook on the world changed. He believed that there was good and evil - plain and simple. He created an alter-ego. Someone who could bury his weaknesses inside and lock away his pain. Robin was stronger, fearless, and undaunted by anything. Robin could vanquish evil and protect others from suffering the same fate he had. Robin could protect the innocent from the cruelties of the world…

Unlike Richard Grayson, a lost boy who had been too afraid to save his own parents.

So when Slade appeared in Jump, Robin instantly became obsessed. Slade was the one evil that Robin could never stop – he was the one challenge that could never be defeated. Robin couldn't protect the world from Slade and that fact shredded his mental and emotional sanity.

Slade was Robin's superior in every way, and the man made sure Robin knew that.

He had never felt so helpless before. Slade could very easily destroy everything Robin held precious, and he would be incapable to stop the masked man. It frightened him. When he fought Slade, he felt like his eight year old self again watching his parents die. Powerless.

But he always continued to fight, because it's what he swore to do. No matter how hard, how daunting, or how impossible the task at hand seemed, he fought.

For the good in the world.

For the innocent.

For the Titans.

For his parents.

Asking Slade for help had been the hardest feat Robin had ever accomplished. It went against every moral and righteous code he lived by. But if it took working with evil to save Batman, then so be it.

But the boy would never apologize to Slade. He would never forgive the man that caused so much suffering and agony in his life. It just wasn't possible. His heart had been hardened and shut off from the world at a young age.

Mary would be ashamed.

He could hear her words and see her disappointed gaze. She would say anything was possible. She would say that Slade was merely lost soul that Robin only needed to find. Her blue eyes would have found the man behind the mask. Even if she had to search through the darkest layers of hell, Mary Grayson would've found the real Slade, and her loving blue eyes would've helped the man heal. Nothing had been impossible for his mother.

Robin shut his eyes, drowning out all other senses. Mary would expect him to do the same, because he was her son, and that's how she raised him.

But Robin was not Dick Grayson.

Apologizing to Slade was a task that Robin couldn't do. He had personally witnessed the consequences of Slade's actions, and he could never forgive the masked man for what he had done to the Titans. Robin was too hardened against the evil of the world. But Dick wasn't. Behind the mask, Dick Grayson still held the warm loving heart that Mary has instilled in him.

Dick was still there – just buried deep inside.

He remembered the day Batman gave him his mask. Everything had changed. Dick had vanished like fire, and Robin had risen out of the ashes. He had stopped being Dick Grayson the day he got his mask, and he had never gone back. Not once. Not ever.

When he left Batman, Robin had further buried Dick Grayson. He had taken on a team of his own, and he had hidden himself away under the strain of fighting crime. Robin had worked restlessly to bring evil to justice and to forget about his past. And it had worked. He had simply become Robin. He had forgotten about the circus, acrobatics, his mother, his father, and everything his parents had given him. He had forgotten about the laughs, the smiles, the tears, and the warm, enveloping hugs. He had forgotten about Dick Grayson.

Until now.

All the pain and all the suffering he had experienced rushed to his eyes. In a single moment, a teardrop escaped the thick barrier that held his pains back and slid down his cheek. The drop cascaded down to the table and landed without a sound.

He stared at the glistening drop, and wondered how many tears he had held back as Robin. Tears of joy. Tears of pain. Tears of a frightened child. Tears of defeat. All of the tears left unshed because he had been too afraid to let them fall. Robin couldn't cry. It was a sign of weakness, and Robin wasn't weak.

But that single tear said it all. Dick Grayson was still within him. He was still there. After all the years of trying to fight him, Dick was still there. He would always be there.

A feeling of strength coursed through him. The memories of his mother flashed before his eyes. He could do this. He could apologize to Slade.

Because he was still Dick Grayson.

Because he was still his mother's son.

And that was all he needed to be.

Robin stood from his chair and walked to the hallway, feeling a strong determination settle inside of him. The lights grew dimmer as he walked and he quickly came across the set of stairs Mr. Wintergreen had mentioned. Air rushed into his lungs as he took a deep, calming breath.

He was ready.

His feet slowly began ascending the steps as his thoughts sifted and joined together in a harmonious melody. The boy was a silent shadow as he made his way through the small enclosed space. A glove hand trailed along the rough wall, keeping his doubts at bay.

Metal greeted his eyes. His hand pressed against the door, and the cold surface coursed through his body, chilling his breath. His eyes flickered shut.

It was now or nothing. It was time to show who he really was.

But just who was he anymore?

He was Robin, the Boy Wonder.

But he was also Richard Grayson, the last living member of the Flying Graysons.

Two crystal blue eyes opened behind the enigmatic domino mask. They were the eyes of Robin. They were the eyes of Dick Grayson. They were the eyes of his mother.

As he pushed the door open, a quiet breath of air whipped past his cheek, and his two identities collided into one.

A/N: I hope I got the emotions right in this chapter. I wanted to portray Wintergreen as someone who understands Robin - someone who sees the boy behind the mask while still retaining the quirky man's sense of humor. Let me know what you think/ if I missed any typos...I have a feeling I did!

NEXT CHAPTER: Robin does something stupid (wow shocking - I know) and Slade (even more shockingly) is furious...

Alright y'all until the next update,

THANK YOU for reading! I hope you enjoyed it!