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: HAPPY NEW YEAR EVERYONE! I hope everyone had a safe and fun night! I wanted to have this up earlier but ah the new year festivities got in my way. Gosh 2015...where has the time gone!

THANKS to all that reviewed. I always love to hear your thoughts on a chapter. Your opinions are important to me! And gosh I hadn't even realized that I am almost at 100k with word count. I really cant believe it. Thanks for encouraging me to keep going!

This chapter is lighter than the other chapters as I needed a break :) I can only take so many intense chapters in a row.

With that, Happy New Year to all my readers. Enjoy!

Chapter 19

Forgetful reminders

Droplets sprayed over the washed concrete floor illuminated by the dim moonlight streaming through the windows along the perimeter of the warehouse. Robin rose to his feet and ran a hand through his soggy hair feeling the water slide through his fingers as he lifted the strands up and off of his forehead. The haunt was surprisingly warm, and the bitter chill from the air outside slowly trickled away from his body. He tugged at his shirt and scrunched it together in a ball underneath his hands. The small puddle around his feet grew in volume; water continued to roll off of him as his hands moved, ringing out the rest of his clothing. Robin glanced down at himself and sighed as there was still a decent amount of water clinging to his clothes.

He took in his surrounding as the familiar tick of the gears echoed in his head. The platform he was standing on was located in the upper corner of the haunt and would have had a comprehensive view of the space but large gears boxed it in, concealing the alcove. The boy was surprised he had even found this escape route in the first place as it was almost invisible in the vast space.

His eyes studied a second puddle, similar to his own, and two large footprint that trailed to a long, metal ladder. The boy walked over to the end of the footprints and scowled as his boots dragged heavily at his feet. He bent over, muttering under his breath as he tugged his boots off. A tired breath escaped his lips as he flipped them over, draining a large amount of water onto the concrete floor. He gathered his boots in his hands and wiggled his toes uncomfortably.

There was nothing worse than wearing wet socks.

Robin gazed down at the numerous rungs the ladder contained and pulled out his grappling hook from his utility belt. His eyes scanned the ceiling and shot it at a metal beam that connected two large gears together. Tightening his grip on the handle he jumped, gritting his teeth together at the amount of strength it took him to hold on.

Perhaps he should have just used the ladder.

He slowly released the slack, lowering himself to the floor as he began to realize just how tired his body actually was. Robin let out a long breath as his eyes fluttered closed. The gears casted strange shadows on his form as the darkness of the haunt slowly rose up to meet him. His feet hit the ground, and he twisted the end of the grappling hook in his hand, retracting it back. The simple action drained the last reserves of energy his body had in him, and a feeling of deep weariness came over him.

Robin scanned the floor and picked up the fading footprints that Slade had left behind. He grumbled under his breath as he began following the trail. Since when did he actually become tired? He was never tired – at least he never allowed himself to admit that he was tired. It was a habit he had picked up from Batman. If the Titans thought he worked too hard, they should really see how hard Batman worked. Robin never saw the crazed crusader sleep when he was busy with a case and not once – not ever – did the man ever complain of weariness. He sighed, pausing in his steps.

It wasn't like Batman ever even had noticed how hard he had worked, how hard he had tried to get everything right, how hard he had pushed himself to improve. The man only noticed his faults, shortcomings, and failures. Robin had tried so hard, so impossibly hard to be like Batman when he had been younger - swooping in and saving the day, putting the bad guys behind bars, wrapping himself in a cloak of mystery(the traffic colored costume didn't really help with that). But the more he had continued to try to be like Batman, the more he had felt the man close himself up. One thing led to another until eventually…

…he left.

And now he was here…

In the haunt…

Of his enemy…

Who no longer was his enemy…

Robin shook his head as the gears continued to whirl around him. There were some things that just weren't worth it to think about. Slade was going to help him, and that's all that mattered. The boy growled as he rubbed his pounding head. If he thought about it too much, it was seriously going to make his headache worse. Just go with it and let it be…

The gears suddenly dropped away from him as he came to stand in the center of the haunt – the same place he had passed out in. The ceiling was cavernous, soaring overhead, and Robin could hear the dim reverberations from the clicking gears. His eyes lifted upwards and the boy suddenly felt very, very small.

"Massive, isn't it?"

Robin blinked, the words breaking his concentration as he turned to face the owner of the smooth voice. Slade stood at the far end of the space, in front of a long row of tables with various machines and pieces of equipment on them. As the man said the words, he turned to face the boy, a thin, black laptop held in his hand. Slade leaned up against the table as a silence settled over the pair.

The boy shifted and nodded as he suddenly felt extremely uncertain of himself. Just what exactly was he supposed to say to the man now? If he couldn't call the man his enemy, then what was he supposed to call him? How was he even supposed to act around Slade anymore?

Slade's gray eye hovered over him for a long moment before he turned away, gesturing for Robin to follow. The boy hesitated but seeing no other option, continued after the man. Slade paused in his steps until Robin caught up with him and then continued on, walking fluidly through the maze of gears.

Robin's eyebrows furrowed with concentration as he watched the man walk. Slade seemed to move with a contradicting sense of grace and power. He was like a specter, moving with an undisturbed aura of focus and simplicity, yet there was a rigidness to him, a crisp, clean snap in his step that made Robin wonder about the man's inconsistent movements. He had the movements of an assassin of someone that could blend in with the night, but he also had the movements of a warrior of someone who could brutally take down his opponents. And above all he had the movements of power, the raw power that made others cower in fear.

There was a reason no one messed with the man.

The boy flinched and increased the distance between Slade and himself slightly. Their footsteps fell into rhythm with each other as Robin gazed around, vainly trying to grasp his bearings and figure out where exactly he was in this massive haut. That gear looked familiar. And so did that one. He muttered under his breath. They all looked familiar.

"Um…Slade…" he said hesitantly, his eyes shifting away from the man. "Where are we going?"

It felt odd, but on the surface nothing had changed. Everything still looked the same. Everything still appeared to be the same. Everything was the same. Yet as Robin gazed at the man before him, the boy couldn't help but feel that everything was somehow...different.

"Breakfast," the man said shortly as he rounded a bend and a set of stairs slid out from the wall.

Robin abruptly stopped and opened his mouth, but Slade quickly turned around and gave him a long look. The light above the set of stairs flickered, and the boy finally got a good look at the man. Water still dripped off of him in fluid waves, and his clothes were practically glued to his body. Irritation was present in every inch of the Slade's face as it settled into a thick scowl.

The Boy Wonder hastily took a few steps back as the man's face bore into him. He had seen that look many times before to know that nothing good ever came out of it. Slade sighed, muttering something under his breath as he looked down and pressed his fingers against his temples. When he lifted his head, the irritation was gone from visage and instead a deep weariness filled his eye.

"I am cold, I am dripping wet, and I am hungry, Robin," Slade said as he ran a hand through his hair, "I am going to eat breakfast and for your safety and well-being, I would suggest you didn't argue with me about this."

Robin blinked as he debated the statement. It was never wise to get in the way of a man and his food. He had learned that lesson from Cyborg the hard way. His finger ghosted over his shoulder as he remembered how the robotic boy hadn't taken kindly to his ultra-stacked sandwich being eaten. The scar from the fork was still there.

His eyes flickered down to the floor and the boy froze as they settled on Slade's bare feet. Robin quickly snapped back up as his face contorted into one of horror.

"Jeez Slade! Haven't you heard of nail clippers before?"

The man's face morphed back into a scowl as he turned around and began marching up the stairs

"Don't tell me you actually enjoy walking in wet socks, Robin?"

At the question, Robin paused in his steps as his eyebrow arched a little higher.

"No I don't actually."

Slade stopped and turned as he reached the door, and a devious glint entered his eye. The man leaned up against the thick piece of metal as his eye glanced down at Robin's socks then up to the boy's domino mask.

"Then it appears we have more in common than I had originally thought."

With those words the door swung open and Slade entered the warm living space, leaving a very dumbfounded and frozen boy, staring incredulously down at his dripping, wet socks.

"Shoes off at the do – "

Robin held up his dripping boots and dropped them on the floor with a thud. Mr. Wintergreen looked up from his newspaper, and a ghost of a smile tickled the man's lips. With a wink the man dropped his gaze back to the paper in his hands as Slade sat down to the man's right. A plate of warm pancakes, bacon, and eggs rested in the man's hands as he reached for the syrup and drizzled it over the scrumptious breakfast. Slade's gray eye flashed over to Robin briefly before turning his attention back to his plate.

Robin remained hovering in the doorway as the same feeling of uncertainty and awkwardness came over him. Something held him back - some invisible string pulled him away from the two men before him. It was an engrained sense of warning that had been hammered into his brain from all his years as a crime fighter. He knew little to nothing about Slade now. Everything he had thought he had known about the man had been thrown at the window, and Wintergreen was perhaps even a harder mystery to figure out – the boy still hadn't decided if the man was completely sane. So to just walk in, grab a plate, sit down, and eat breakfast just seemed…

Wrong.

The boy sighed, leaning against the doorframe. After all of that, after that whole emotionally exhausting conversation, he was still back where he started – hovering in the doorway of choices. Why couldn't he just move on? Why did he always feel like something held him back? There was always something in his head that told him he was making the wrong decision – that small, lingering doubt that gnawed at his sanity. Perhaps he should just –

What the –

Robin let out a cry of surprise as something large and soft smacked him directly in the face. He threw up his arms and struggled to yank it off of himself, as the item stubbornly clung to his wet hair. The boy muttered a low curse as he finally managed to yank the large nuisance off of himself revealing a very fluffy, blue towel. The boy looked up at the two men in front of him as his face flushed with heat.

Wintergreen had risen from his chair and now had a stack of towels in his hand. The older man raised a quizzical eyebrow.

"Do you have something against my towels Robin?" Mr. Wintergreen asked as he proceeded to dumb a similar towel on top of Slade's head.

"Um-no I just wasn't – "

Wintergreen proceeded to ruffle Slade's short hair with the towel causing Robin to freeze in his sentence. Slade let out an annoyed growl and quickly slapped the older man's hands away.

"For God's sake, I'm not five, Will," Slade said as he sent the man an irritated glare.

Wintergreen simply rolled his eyes as he responded, "Well then dry yourself off like a civilized being. I'm not going to have you dripping water all over my floor."

The man's beady eyes swung over to Robin.

"That goes for you too."

Robin swallowed at the tone of the man's voice and nodded, running the towel over his clothes. Mr. Wintergreen hummed in approval and moved off to the kitchen, already intent on his next task. Within minutes the thick aroma of bacon filled the air as the man began cooking his breakfast feast for the second time that late, stormy morning. The smell awakened the deep sense of hunger the boy had ignored, and his eyes looked longingly at the kitchen.

"How do you like your eggs, Robin?"

The simple question took the Boy Wonder by surprise as his gaze swept back over to Wintergreen.

"Um…" Robin began as he ran a towel through his hair.

"I am not an um Robin."

Robin snapped his mouth shut, taking a hesitant step backwards and shaking his head. Normally he would be irritated at being corrected by an adult, but for some reason the comment only washed over him.

"Mr. Wintergreen you don't need to – "

"How do you like your eggs, Robin?"

Robin held back a sigh as he realized the man wasn't going to take no for an answer. The tone in the older man's voice had a subtle edge to it which effectively silenced all of his arguments.

"Scrambled is fine," he responded as he ran the towel over his legs. When he was sure that water wouldn't drip from his body, he folded it between his arms and glanced back up. Slade's gray eye met his eyes.

"Are you just going to stand there?"

"Um…"

"Come sit."

Several moments passed as Robin simply stared at the man. Was he really just going to sit at the table with Slade and have breakfast? The man's gray eye narrowed slightly and Robin flinched.

Yes, apparently he was.

His feet treaded towards the table as he dropped his eyes to the floor and rounded the table, pulling out a chair across from Slade. The boy lowered himself into the wooden seat, feeling the cold material press up against his already chilled body. The towel rested in his lap as Robin pressed his shaking hands into the material.

"Was that really so hard?"

The boy heard the tired words, but his ears drowned them out as his mind began hurdling through a barrier of thoughts. He felt his heartbeat accelerate as he clenched his hands against the soft material of the fabric.

"Robin?"

His eyes traveled up to Slade who had paused mid-bite and was staring at him. His mouth grew extremely dry as he gazed into Slade's single, gray eye, feeling the man's thick gaze bury its way into him. The damp towel shifted under his grip.

"This doesn't change anything right?" he blurted out before he could reel the words back in.

Slade raised an eyebrow as he lowered his fork back to the table.

"I can assure you that nothing will change by eating breakfast," the man responded as a curious note entered his voice.

Robin furiously shook his head, feeling a few drops of water slide down his forehead. His eyes flickered around the room as they skirted the edges of Slade's form, unable to make eye contact with the man. A steaming plate of food was set down in front of him, but the boy ignored it.

"No," he stuttered as the words suddenly felt tangled in his mouth, "I just meant – I – that…you and me – "

He broke off as a light hand fell over his shoulder, and a soothing voice broke through his mind.

"Dear boy, what are you talking about?"

Robin glanced up at Mr. Wintergreen's soft, green eyes. His wrinkled face was twisted into a deep look of concern as he squeezed Robin's shoulder gently in an attempt to pull the boy out of his thoughts. With a hammering heart, Robin quickly looked away, words spinning around in his mind.

"Just….I just…"

After all of that - all the words, the pain, the wounds, the screaming, the rain, the thunder, the lightning – he still feared…

"This won't change anything right? After all of this is over, you'll still be you. And I'll – I'll st-still be…"

Me.

The unspoken word weighed heavily on his heart as he glanced fixedly at the towel in his lap. After all of that he still feared change. He still feared that this would make him into something he wasn't – not a villain or a criminal – just into something different. He had always feared change. It was a fear that had become embedded into his mind the day his parents had died.

Silence ticked by as Robin shifted in his seat. The hand on his shoulder squeezed it once more before it slipped off, and Wintergreen returned to his seat. The boy struggled to swallow under the oppressive stillness that drifted around his lithe frame.

"Robin look at me."

The boy felt himself grow very still as a few more precious seconds ticked by. Gradually he drew his eyes up and allowed himself to gaze at the man before him. Slade's gray eye held an unusual light in it and as the man leaned forward, in that moment Robin couldn't help but feel that was man in front of him was so different…

Yet so the same.

"You will always be you, Robin," Slade said as he leaned back in his chair and picked up his fork, "Not even I can change that."

The pressure surrounding Robin's chest alleviated slightly, but there was something in the man's voice that made him pause. It was an odd inflection in Slade's tone that almost sounded like a soft kind of disappointment. Robin glanced back down at his plate, twiddling the fork between his fingers.

Change.

He feared that simple word more than the man in front of him.

"And Slade will always be Slade, I can assure you of that," Wintergreen commented with a light snort as he clicked the top of a pen and set to work on a game within the pages of the newspaper.

Slade muttered something under his breath as he set his laptop on the table and lifted it open as he took another bite from his pancake. Multiple pages opened, all the schematics and blueprints of the possible hideouts of the Joker. The man's eye ran through them as his mind began to muse over the subject.

"Slade, did you happen to read the article on the front page?"

The man's attention was drawn away from his laptop at Mr. Wintergreen's question, and Robin's gaze dropped back down to the plate of food in front of him as he tuned out the two men's conversation. At least now he could eat in a relative peace as both Slade and Wintergreen were sufficiently distracted. He picked up his knife and cut into his warm, fluffy pancakes, his stomach rumbling as steam wafted into the air. He stabbed into them, and his lips lifted in a small smile as he brought his fork to his lips. However before the boy could take a bite, a thought occurred him that caused him to look back down at the table. His eyes scanned over the various staple necessities.

Syrup.

Butter.

Milk.

Salt and pepper.

But no…

"Do you have any peanut butter?" Robin blurted out before his mind could fully comprehend his thoughts.

Slade and Mr. Wintergreen stopped mid-conversation, and both men turned to face him. Mr. Wintergreen raised a quizzical eyebrow and opened his mouth. He paused, closed it, and opened it again. Robin's eyes flickered from Mr. Wintergreen's confused face to Slade's stone, cold visage as he felt heat crawl into his cheeks. You would think he had just asked them if unicorns were real…

"And what do you need peanut butter for exactly?" Mr. Wintergreen asked with a genuine note of confusion in his voice at Robin's request.

Robin looked at the two men and down at his pancakes. He looked back up at the men and gestured to the pancakes in front of him weakly, suddenly feeling even more awkward than before. Mr. Wintergreen raised his eyebrows even higher.

"Um for the...pancakes…" Robin mumbled dumbfounded. Pancakes and peanut butter were practically a tradition back at the Titans Tower; Cyborg would make the pancakes and Beast Boy would whip out the giant jar of peanut butter they kept stashed in the pantry. He had been skeptical at first but after some major convincing, and a few threats, he had tried it and loved it.

"Are my pancakes not good enough without peanut butter? Do you not like my cooking?" Mr. Wintergreen asked the hurt all too evident in his voice as his eyes widened with disbelief.

"No it's just back at the tower, we always eat pancakes with peanut butter…" Robin said as his eyes danced between the two men. His shrugged, sinking lower into his chair as began to feel even more ridiculous.

Mr. Wintergreen huffed and rolled his eyes. "Well, I'm sorry lad but I don't keep that processed gunk in my house," the older man said while turning back to his newspaper and twirling the pen in his hand. There was a strange air surrounding Wintergreen - almost as if he was offended that Robin had brought it up the subject of peanut butter at all.

"Oh…" The Boy Wonder said softly as he slid even lower into his chair. He looked back down at his plate and took a bite of his peanut butter-less pancake. It was still good. From what he could piece together, Mr. Wintergreen was an excellent cook and the pancaked were fluffy, light, and practically melted in his mouth. They just didn't have any peanut butter. He felt Slade's eyes on him again and the boy shifted in his seat, keeping his eyes directly on the plate in front of him.

"Crunchy or creamy?"

Robin snapped his head up and met Slade's single eye.

"Excuse me?" Mr. Wintergreen asked, narrowing his eyes at Slade.

The man ignored Mr. Wintergreen, his focus fixed on Robin. The Boy Wonder set down his fork and cleared his throat.

"Crunchy…" he said shortly. Slade blinked once, and he rose from the table.

"Where on Earth are you going?" Mr. Wintergreen asked his eyes following the man like a hawk. He snapped the paper down on the table.

"I'll be back," Slade said disappearing into the hallway. Mr. Wintergreen immediately swung his head back to Robin, a look of alarm etched into his face.

Robin shrugged, just as lost and confused as the man sitting to his right. It was like Slade actually had –

Seconds later Slade appeared from the hallway a small jar in his hands. His footsteps were loud and heavy in the room as he walked over to his chair and sat down on his seat, pushing the small brown container toward Robin. It took both Mr. Wintergreen and Robin several moments before they both realized what it was.

A jar of crunchy peanut butter.

Robin's eyes widened, and he glanced up at the man who had a very large smirk on his face. Slade leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms while Mr. Wintergreen exploded from his seat, slamming his pen down on the table.

"HOW LONG HAVE YOU HAD THAT OBSCENITY IN MY HOUSE?" he yelled pointing his finger at the small, atrocity on the table.

Slade simply shrugged and met Mr. Wintergreen's eyes calmly. A devious smirk played on his lips as he replied with a smooth tone, "There are some things, even you don't know about my life, Will."

Mr. Wintergreen's eyes widened as his mouth dropped to the floor.

"Well then! Why don't you cook the food in this household if you seem to find my cooking unsatisfactory!"

"I never said that."

"BUT you insinuated it!"

"And exactly how did I do this?"

"By buying a jar of PEANUT BUTTER!"

"A jar? How exactly do you know if I only bought one?"

Robin's mouth hit the floor at the comment as his eyes flickered back and forth between the two men. Slade was playing a dangerous game here. There was one thing Robin had learned from this entire experience so far - Mr. Wintergreen was a very dangerous person when he was mad. The old man had a hidden fire to him that could even rival Slade at his worst moments.

"And you!" Mr. Wintergreen snapped as if sensing Robin's thoughts. "You started this mess!" he yelled, wagging his enraged finger toward the boy.

Robin dropped his fork on the table and held up his hands innocently, "Don't look at me. I just asked for some peanut butter."

"There's no harm in that now is there, Will?" Slade said, his deep voice drawing back the infuriated man's attention. Mr. Wintergreen looked between the two as his face grew redder and redder. With a wild huff, he snatched the newspaper and pen from the table, bounded from his seat, snapped around, and walked to the door, muttering under his breath.

"Fine. If you want to be like this, then I shall enjoy my newspaper elsewhere." He snatched his long coat from the hanger by the door and threw it around himself.

Slade sighed and looked back at the man as a smile still tugged at his lips. "Now, Will – "

"Don't you 'now Will' me!" Mr. Wintergreen threw open the door, stepped outside and hastily tied his coat around him. "I will not be in the same room as that processed filth."

With one last glare at the small, brown jar, Wintergreen slammed the door shut with a loud bang, leaving Robin and Slade alone.

Robin stared at the door for what felt like a full five minutes before he turned to look at Slade.

"Sheesh what did peanut butter ever do to him?"

A light laugh filled the air, and Robin did a double take at the man in front of him. It wasn't his deep, sinister chuckle that sent chills racing down his back – this laugh was different. It was smooth and deep, but also laced with a warm undertone that Robin had never expected. It traveled through the room as the man shook his head and leaned back in his chair, pushing his weight against its two back legs

"More than you will ever know, Robin," he responded as he pushed his empty plate away from him.

"Oh well…um, shouldn't we go after him or something?" Robin asked, a tinge of worry creeping into his voice. Mr. Wintergreen had looked quite furious when he had left…

But Slade merely brushed the suggestion aside with his hand and shifted his attention back to his laptop.

"It's happened before. He'll be back by dinnertime," Slade replied as he shut the lid with his hand. He stood from his seat, tucking the laptop underneath his arm. "This certainly has been an eventful morning."

Robin snorted as he opened the jar of peanut butter. "You're telling me, Slade."

The man's gray eye swept over him as a sigh escaped the man's lips. "We're going to have to do something about that black eye, Robin."

The boy froze in his movements. He had mostly forgotten about his cumulative injuries from the morning, but now that Slade mentioned it, his eye was throbbing with a small annoyance of pain. However, one black eye was the least of his problems as his body in general felt like it had been run over by a truck.

"Don't worry about it, Slade. I've been through worse."

The sickening laugh…

The blood…

The screams…

The gunshots…

Don't think about it Robin. Just don't think about it.

The man hummed thoughtfully as his eyes scanned over the boy again. He turned and began walking to the door, his feet thudding on the floor. "Finish your food, get changed, and meet me in the haunt in fifteen minutes."

He turned, his gray eye holding a serious light in it.

"We have work to do."

Robin nodded for once agreeing with the man. They had wasted enough time this morning bickering and arguing. It was time to get started.

It was time to find Batman.

The boy paused as he dipped the knife into the jar, a thought occurring to him.

"You know Slade, you never struck me as a crunchy sort of guy."

He spread the thick butter on the fluffy pancakes as Slade's smooth voice traveled over to him.

"As I said, Robin. It appears we have more in common than I had originally thought."

Robin snapped up to see Slade smirk at him with a devious glint in his eye. He opened his mouth to respond, but the man quickly cut him off as he walked outside the door.

"Fifteen minutes, Robin."

The door slid shut behind the man and Robin growled, his hand tightening on the small jar.

Well played Wilson.

He twisted the jar in his hand and set it back down on the table.

But this is only the beginning.

A/N: Who knew Wintergreen disliked Peanut Butter so much? Haha I practically live off of it.

As we all start the new year, I just really wanted to say thanks to all of my readers. I never thank you guys enough:). I appreciate the time you take to read my story and for all the support you give me. I hope everyone had a wonderful day, and I am greatly looking forward to the new year!

So until the next update,

Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoyed it! :)