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: Hey everyone! Thanks for all the wonderful and supportive reviews! You all are the best!

Alright Chapter 15, I hope you enjoy!

Chapter 15

To Right a Wrong

"Sit down."

"Ugh…mn-Shla-"

"Just sit, Robin."

With a frustrated huff of air, the Boy Wonder plopped onto the couch, his eyes flickering around the room. The lounge off the gym was small with a wall of cabinets and a seating area tucked away in the corner. Robin tensed as he sat, perching his body on the edge of the long couch and eyeing the masked man suspiciously.

The heavy silence in the room was broken by the sound of cabinet doors opening and shutting. Robin's eyes drooped as he watched Slade methodically placing items on the countertop. A flash of metal caught his eye, and Robin raised a curious eyebrow.

"Whah-sare…yush duin?"

Robin mentally swore at the complete and utter nonsense that came out of his mouth. He rubbed his swollen jaw with his hand and flinched as a sharp pain shot into his head. Slade briefly turned around, fixing him under an eerie gaze. Robin couldn't tell if the man was amused, annoyed, or irritated with him.

Probably a little of all three…

The boy dropped his gaze and swept his eyes over the room. Despite the fact that Slade was less than five feet away, the room was calm with various shades of soothing gray that washed over his tired mind. He let out a drowsy breath, the tightness in his jaw preventing him from making any further comments. His eyes continued to droop as Slade's dark form flickered in and out of focus and as a soft blanket of sleep wrapped around his mind.

He slumped back into the couch, groaning slightly as a fiery pain rose up in his ribs. The boy shifted until he found a slight reprieve from the discomfort as the cushions conformed to his lithe frame. His mind grew distant, his chest rose and fell, and his body relaxed, letting the cool air rake over him.

Echoing footsteps approached him from the distant end of a tunnel. His body urged him to open his eyes, but they remained obstinately shut as the boy found himself sinking deeper and deeper into weariness. He was aware of a presence next to him, powerful yet soothing. A hand pressed against his jaw and a soft, damp cloth smoothed over it. His eyes opened imperceptibly as his body slowly began to heed his mind's warnings.

A sharp prick on his jaw jarred the boy back to his senses and his eyes flashed open, his body immediately throwing himself away from the source of the pain. A metal object came into focus, revealing an empty needle in the masked man's gloved hand. Robin's eyes widened in disbelief as he hastily backed away from the figure in front of him, panic fluttering inside of him. What the heck had the man just injected him with?

A low growl made him freeze as Slade grabbed his wrist in a tight hold.

"Calm down. It will help the swelling go down in your jaw so you can speak coherently. Now, sit," Slade said letting his cold gaze wash over the boy. For a moment neither Robin nor the masked man moved as they remained locked within one another's gazes.

Robin considered, among other colorful things, telling Slade to back off and leave him alone. However, the man's gray eye had a serious light in it that made Robin reconsider and clamp his mouth shut. No point in getting injured again. The grip on his wrist tightened, pulling him back down onto the couch. Robin complied, but hesitantly, his eyes never leaving the masked man's form.

He heard Slade grumble something under his breath as he turned around, walking to the wall of cabinets again. The boy shifted, sleep and weariness now far from his mind. Distrust was a keen knife in his side as he positioned his body on the couch so he could make a bolt for the door if Slade decided to try something. Even though he had decided to apologize to the man, Robin still trusted Slade about as far as he could throw him – which wasn't very far.

An uneasy air hung between the two figures which was amplified due to the compact space. Robin drummed his fingers on his knee, his gaze never leaving the masked man's movements. Slade turned and gestured for Robin to stand with his hand. The boy stared at him for several seconds before slowly complying and wincing at the sharp pain from his ribs.

Slade approached him, his critical eye honing in on the boy.

"Take your shirt off," the man commanded, taking another step forward. When the boy made no move to comply, Slade sighed, exasperated. "I need to make sure your ribs aren't broken, Robin."

The boy tentatively opened his mouth, rubbing it lightly with his fingers. He cleared his throat and took a step away from the man.

"They're not," he said, his voice hoarse and gruff. He crossed his hands in front of his chest and dropped his eyes to the floor.

"Humor me."

Robin shook his head, his arms tensing. "They're not broken, Slade. Drop it," he whispered, keeping his arms glued to his sides.

"And how would you know that, Robin?" Slade asked, disbelief sprawled in his deep voice.

The boy looked up and sent the man a flat and silent gaze. Slade stared back at him evenly.

A shuddering breath rolled from Robin's lips as his chest rose and fell in an uneven pace.

"I know what broken ribs feel like..." the boy said in a low voice.

The masked man's gaze wavered for a moment before he turned around and walked back towards the cabinets once more. The boy let out an imperceptible sigh of relief and sat back down on the couch. He was fairly certain that his ribs were simply bruised, and even if they weren't, he could handle the injury himself. He didn't need the masked man's help. He could take care of himself.

"Slade…"

The man turned around, and the words immediately died inside Robin's mouth. He cleared his throat as he struggled with what exactly he had planned to say. Was he still supposed to apologize? Was he supposed to thank the man for saving him? Was he even supposed to talk to the man?

The gray eye dug into him, and Robin's thought process fizzled and died.

"Never mind," Robin muttered while softly rubbing his jaw.

The man's gaze lingered on the boy for a few more seconds, before gathering a few more supplies and walking back to the seating area. He sat down on the gray chair next to the couch, placing various items on the clear glass coffee table. The boy stiffened, his eyes growing wide.

There were three very large, silver needles on the coffee table.

Robin shied away from the man, his body taught and tense. "What's in those and why do you need to inject me with them?" he snapped, a defiant tone creeping into his voice.

Slade tapped the needle, looking beyond it at the boy. "Healing agent. It will help with the bruising and allow your injuries to heal at a faster pace." Before Slade had even finished talking, the boy was already shaking his head.

"I don't need it," he said, hastily standing up and making a move to step away.

"Sit back down, Robin."

Normally Robin would ignore Slade's threats, but there was a deeper layer to the man's icy voice this time around. It was laced with an undertone that Robin couldn't quite decipher. It was different, yet it was still the same.

Wintergreen's words echoed in his head.

He cares about you Robin. Slade will never admit it, but it's true.

Was the senile old man actually right? Did Slade really care? Robin took a calming breath and slowly lowered his body back down onto the couch. Even if the man didn't care, he could at least try to act somewhat civil with the villain.

"I'm fine Slade."

"Your jaw was dislocated. Your ribs are bruised. And you have a black eye which your mask does a poor job of hiding. You have also been repeatedly injured over the course of last two days," Slade said, his words sharp and crisp.

Robin turned away from the man, refusing to meet his gray eye. "I said I'm fine."

A frustrated growl reached the boy's ears. "We can do this the hard way, or the easy way, Robin. Your choice," Slade said picking up a long gray needle that had been resting on the table.

The boy snapped up, his eyes hardening. "You're not listening, Slade. I'm fine," he said emphasizing the last word. Robin dragged a hand through his limp hair, a straggled sigh burning his lips. "Would you just leave me alone?"

The man straightened, a dark light entering his eye. His hand tightened around the needle as he leaned forward. After a moment, the man seemed to come to an abrupt decision. Slade stood up from the chair, sending it screeching back. The noise was like a scream in the eerie silence, shattering the tentative calm Robin had found. The masked man's presence suddenly seemed to consume the room as he advanced toward the boy. Robin sprung to his feet with surprising agility and threw up his arms.

"You're not listening to me, Slade," Robin said. The panic he was feeling was clearly audible in his voice as the boy backed up, drawing nearer to the wall.

"I am, Robin, but you are not fine," the man replied, undaunted and unfazed by the boy's rash reaction.

The boy swore to himself, throwing his hands up defensively. "How am I even supposed to trust you? You could have anything in those things," Robin cried, trying to stall for some time. In a small, enclosed space, Slade had every advantage over him if it came down to a fight. If he could just get to the door…

"I have no reason to lie, Robin," Slade said, halting in his tracks. Even without his full armor, the man was still quite terrifying simply standing in front of him.

"Come on, Slade. You can't seriously expect me to let you inject me with them," Robin said while his eyes flickered to the door, helpless against the doom before him. There was a slim chance he could manage to talk his way out of this one.

"I can, and I will. I'm not the one who almost got himself killed," Slade said while taking another step forward.

"Well, excuse me!" Robin shouted, his composure cracking, "I'm not the one with freaking robots programmed to KILL during a workout – a bloody training exercise! Wasn't there a stop button, you could have hit?"

Slade turned his head away from the boy. Robin watched as a tremor, deep and powerful, ran through the man's body. In the span of a few seconds, a shadow of a darker specter wrapped around the man and cloaked him in a gloomy aura. When he turned back to face the boy, his eye was empty, vacant, exhausted.

"There's no stop button in life, Robin."

The words were raw. They were no longer coated with an evil pretense or facade. They were no longer layered with an underlying threat. They were spoken with a cold and withered tone that fell into the smothering silence like a dull knife. Slade's gray eye rose to meet the enigmatic domino mask of a boy who was now frozen in fear.

"In a real fight, there is no stop button. In a real fight, your enemies won't hesitate to kill you. In a real fight, you either kill or are killed."

The boy was locked into place. The words pulling back the haunting memories he had buried away. Robin's breath was shallow, a mere whisper in the air.

"If I hadn't stopped the robot, you would have died. Do you understand that? If that were a real fight you would have died. And if that were the Joker, you wouldn't have even lasted a minute," Slade said, momentum gathering behind his words.

"Slade, sto-" Robin said, his voice cracking.

"There are other villains in the world that wouldn't hesitate to kill your friends. But I don't think you understand that. I don't think you realize how cruel this world really is."

The sickening laugh…

The blood…

The screams…

The gunshots…

The boy turned away, air rushing through his lungs. His mind was breaking. Memories, all the memories he had hidden away behind his mask, were resurfacing. All the pain, all the unshed tears, all the scars were rushing to the surface of his mind.

The applause…

The snap…

The screams of terror…

Like a deadly drum roll, a crushing wave washed over him as his parents' screams blared in his mind.

Their terrible gut-wrenching screams…

"I do…" Robins whispered quietly, his skin growing pale.

Slade let out a deep, dark laugh that reverberated through the room. "Do you? Honestly Robin, you pretend that cruelty doesn't exist. You're fighting a losing battle. You dress up in a cape and mask and call yourself a hero."

Robin slammed his eyes shut, trying to drown out Slade's words. However he heard him. He heard every single word.

The man paused, a dark light filtering into his eye. "There isn't any good in this world. I learned that a long time ago. You can fight evil all day long and it will still be there."

Air burned in his lungs as Robin's body began to shake.

"One day, you'll lose," Slade continued his voice distant and far away, "You'll come to an end like all the rest of the heroes. And maybe then you will learn just how cruel this world really is. Maybe then you'll understand," Slade said turning away from the boy. The man's body was filled with a hollow anger from a long forgotten past. The boy would learn one day – the boy would feel his own pain.

But what Slade didn't understand was that Robin had already felt his pain before.

And the boy already knew how cruel the world truly was.

With a muffled cry, the boy whipped around and fled toward the door; he yanked on it with a terrible power, but it jerked back, securely locked in place. His hand slammed against it as he held back the tears that were threatening to break free. His mind was completely shredded, a meaningless pile of ashes. Apologizing to the masked man now was no longer an option. He needed to get out now. He needed to run. He needed to fly. He needed to be free. Slade was suffocating him.

"It's locked Robin. Come sit down." Slade said with his back turned to the boy.

But Robin was beyond reason; his body wanted out and he was going to find a way to get out – no matter the cost. He crashed up against the door, but the hard metal remained obstinately locked in place.

The screams…

The blood…

The gunshots…

He needed out.

"Robin. Now," Slade commanded sharply while turning around.

But the boy didn't hear the words. All he saw and heard were his parents, the Joker, Batman, the Titans. His sanity was gone. Everything was a haze and blur of emotions and colors as he fell through the walls in his mind. He pressed his hands up against the cold, metal door, a ragged breath tearing through his soul.

"Robin…" Slade tried again, his voice etched with a concern the boy couldn't hear.

"Just go away, Slade," Robin whispered.

The door vanished from under his hands as it was suddenly thrown open. He stumbled back, reorienting his balance as his eyes landed on the figure in front of him.

"What on earth is going on…Robin?"

Mr. Wintergreen stood in the open doorway. His green eyes flashed with deep concern, and he reached out to grab young boy's arm.

With uncanny speed, Robin somersaulted forward, pushing past Wintergreen and dashing out of the room. His feet barely hit the ground as he sprinted toward the exit and threw the door open.

The screams…

His mind spurred him on, forcing him to move faster and faster as his feet drummed down the stairs.

The blood…

A ragged breath tore through his lungs.

The gunshot…

In the blink of the eye, the Boy Wonder was gone, leaving behind his sanity and one very perturbed old man.

"What did you do to him, Slade?"

Slade sighed, turning away from the older man and picking up the supplies from the coffee table.

"I simply told him what he needed to know, Will. Someone had to do it," Slade replied, his voice low and level.

The older man hardly missed a beat as he marched up to the masked man. "And what about his jaw! Did you do that too?" Mr. Wintergreen snapped.

"I did not," Slade said, shooting the man a warning glance, "The boy activated my training program – almost got himself killed."

Wintergreen snorted. "Why do I find that I don't believe you? How do I know you just didn't lose your temper again?" he said crossing his arms in front of his chest, a large frown creased onto his face.

Slade shook his head while walking back to the cabinets to put away the supplies.

"I wouldn't lie to you, Will. I had paused the program to take a quick break. If I had known Robin was going to come down to the gym, I would have shut the blasted thing off," Slade responded while pulling off his gauntlets.

The masked man looked up.

"Why did he even come down here in the first place?"

Will's cheeks flushed with anger, and the man threw his hand in the air.

"Oh come on, Slade! What do you think? You're supposed to be the smart one here! He was coming to apologize to you," Mr. Wintergreen yelled, glaring at his impossible friend.

"What makes you think a delusional thing like that, Will?" Slade said with a snort, brushing the thought away from his mind.

A loud groan of frustration came from the older man as he pressed his hands against his hips and gazed up at the ceiling.

"Why do I even put up with this idiocy?" the man muttered to himself. After several calming breaths, he was finally able to manage to speak in a somewhat calm tone. "Take off your mask, Slade," the man said, barely restraining his rage, "I hate talking to it."

Slade hesitantly pulled off the piece of metal covering his face. He set it on the table, the hard material making a dull click that resonated through the room. The eyes of his old friend glistened in the light.

"I talked to him, Slade - something you have never bothered to do. And guess what I saw? I saw a fifteen year old boy hiding behind a mask, lost. A boy who was at the end of his rope. A boy who didn't want to fail his mentor. A boy that didn't want to lose someone he loved."

Slade let Will's words sink in. Perhaps….perhaps he had forgotten that. After years of fighting Robin, perhaps he had stopped thinking about the boy behind the mask.

"I saw a boy that had the courage to ask his greatest enemy for help. And you know what you have done with that – nothing. You've thrown it back in his face. You've done everything, he has feared. And – " the man broke off, struggling to finish his sentence. He shut his green eyes from Slade's perceptive gaze as he pulled the words from his mouth.

"I am ashamed of you."

The sentence fell on the floor with a deafening silence. Slade felt his hand slip off the countertop as he took a step towards his friend.

"Will, I-"

Mr. Wintergreen held up his hand, cutting him off.

"I don't want to hear it, Slade. Because for once, you're wrong. You've only done what you've thought was best. You haven't even given a thought to what the boy really needs. You haven't even thought about the consequences. I thought you had learned. I thought you had changed…after what had happened…"

Slade remained silent as the words pulled at his blackened heart and ripped open long scabbed over wounds that had never fully healed.

"The boy needs help. He needs to rescue his mentor, but he will fail without you. He isn't strong enough to face the Joker alone," Will said as a tired note entered his voice. Silhouetted against the open door frame, the man seemed older. The lines around his eyes and mouth seemed more pronounced, and his eyes fluttered with a deep sadness. He stood, an aged spirit appealing to a lost soul.

"He'll be killed without you Slade," Mr. Wintergreen whispered quietly.

"If you're fine with that happening, then continue on as before. I won't stop you, but Robin will never accept your help like this…" Wintergreen trailed off, gesturing around the room and letting his green eyes pierce into Slade's face.

"He doesn't deserve the same fate as Grant."

A knife – that's what Slade felt drive through his heart. It was so harsh and cold; it cut through his remaining strength and ripped open his memories from the past. The man glanced down at his hands, a cold numbness spreading through his body. He closed his eye as his friend approached him and as a gentle hand gripped his shoulder and squeezed it softly.

"But you can still fix it," Mr. Wintergreen said with a hint of a smile.

"Will…" Slade said while turning away, "I don't know how. I failed my children and I'll fail Robin too."

"No you won't! For once in your life, Slade," Mr. Wintergreen cried grabbing his friend by the shoulders and looking into his lone, gray eye, "Remember who Slade Wilson is. Don't forget about him, because he still is there - just buried deep, deep inside."

A moment passed before Wintergreen released Slade and took a step back. The words drifted between them, as the older man turned around and headed towards the door, his soft footsteps making hollow clicks on the ground.

Wintergreen turned, his green eyes finding the light of a friend.

"And this is something only he can do."

The door shut quietly behind him, leaving Slade alone with his thoughts.

But who was Slade?

Was he Slade Wilson?

Or was he Slade Deathstroke the Terminator?

The man stared at the black and orange mask on the countertop – a mask that had become a part of who he was – while Wintergreen's words echoed in his ears. His fingers touched the cold metal with his hand and traced the line between the black and orange colors. He had always thought of himself as one person. Slade Wilson was the same person as Deathstroke the Terminator.

Right?

But apparently Will didn't think so. Wintergreen seemed to think of Slade as two different people – the assassin and the man.

So then who exactly was he?

Was he the fearless mercenary who fought and ruthlessly obtained what he wanted?

Or was he the father and man who had once loved his family more than life itself?

Ten years ago, he would have claimed that he had been a father first and an assassin second. But had that been the truth? Had he merely been living a lie? Slade had always thought he had put his family first, but had he really? Had he always been Deathstroke first? Had that fateful day just further buried Slade Wilson?

Slade grabbed the mask and stared at its single eye hole.

He had no answer for these questions.

After that day, the day he had lost everything, he had hardened himself so that he would never have to feel pain again. He had closed his heart off to the world, and fully devoted himself to the merciless killer he was. He had gotten his revenge. He had climbed to the top of the criminal ladder as Deathstroke, and he had made himself invincible. But had he done all these things just to bury the pain that being Slade Wilson brought?

The man didn't know.

Ten years later, here was a boy who needed his help. Here was a boy who pulled all these painful memories back to the surface. A boy who he had tried to manipulate over and over again. A boy who he had looked at as Deathstroke and not Slade Wilson. A boy who was desperate enough to ask his archenemy for help.

The man sighed. He hadn't meant to snap. He hadn't meant to unleash upon Robin the buried pain he had harbored for ten years, but the boy had brought back the bitter memories he had tried to forget. And it appeared as if Slade had done the same to him.

There was more to that boy than a cape and a mask. There were deeper layers that revealed an ocean of memories and currents that had dominated his life. There were things that haunted Robin – things that no boy should ever have seen or witnessed.

Here was a boy that needed help.

And Slade was not going to pass up on the opportunity.

A feeling rose up in his cold heart, giving it a touch of warmth. He was needed. After ten years, of being hated and feared, he was actually needed by someone again.

But this time, it was Slade Wilson who was needed, and not Deathstroke the terminator.

Slade clasped the cold metal mask in his hand, and moved toward the door. He unlocked it and watched as it swung open with a quiet swish. The man stepped into the large gym, finding its quietness a crime to disturb. As he made his way to the door to the house and pulled it open, Slade's thoughts blended and melded together.

He could do this.

He reached the second door, and took a deep breath, pushing it open and moving silently into the kitchen.

He found Mr. Wintergreen sitting at the table, drinking coffee and reading the newspaper, acting as if nothing out of the ordinary had just occurred over the past two days. Slade walked to the man and paused behind him.

"I unlocked the door for him. You can't keep a bird caged forever you know," Will said sipping the dark liquid from his mug.

"Where is he?" Slade said quietly.

"Where does a bird go?"

Slade immediately moved toward the door, but paused and turned toward the older man, the mask still in his hand.

Mr. Wintergreen looked up at him, a question in his bright green eyes.

"You were right," Slade said turning away. He pressed his gloved hand on the icy, cold knob as Will's words floated over to him.

"Good luck."

Slade pushed the door open, and felt the cool air whip by his exposed face. He took a step into the dark haunt; the metal gears falling in tune with his mind.

Where does a bird go?

Well that's easy.

A robin will always return to a place where it can be alone, where it can be safe, where it can be free.

A robin will always return to the sky.

Slade turned, heading for the hatch that led to the rooftop, determined not to fail again.

A/N: Alright so this chapter took a somewhat unusual turn. I hope you don't feel like I am dragging this out, but I could never see Slade and Robin working together unless they both change, so that's why this chapter happened how it did. Let me know what you think!

Hope everyone has a great week! Only one more week and a few days until Thanksgiving!

As always, thank you for reading! And I hope you enjoyed it!