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 yall! Sorry it's been a while! I had finals last week so I've been distracted! Thanks for all your reviews on the last chapter!
Without further wait, Chapter 20! Enjoy!
Chapter 20
Knock Knock…
"These blueprints have the complete outline of….Robin are you even listening? Robin?"
Sighs
SMACK
"OW! WHAT THE HECK SLADE?"
The boy instantly recoiled away from the man, a hand rushing up to his stinging cheek. His eyes narrowed as he shot the man the worst glare he could muster. The strike hadn't had any real power behind it, in fact it was a considerably light hit coming from the man, but it still stung like hell.
Slade met his gaze evenly, one hand pressed onto the console they were standing near and the other gesturing to the large screen ahead of them.
"Pay attention, Robin."
The boy's eyes flashed briefly over to the large screens and then back to the man. He left out an indignant huff as he folded his arms over his clean shirt.
"I was paying attention," Robin lied easily between clenched teeth.
The man's single eye immediately narrowed as he took a step closer to the boy.
"Oh really? Well, I'm afraid my memory fails me, care to remind me of the last thing I said?" Slade challenged smoothly, his voice filled with a slight edge. He took another step towards the boy, his chilling presence weighing heavily in the air.
Robin shifted his feet, feeling the man's gaze bite into him. He resisted the urge to step backwards as it would be a clear indicator of his deceit. The boy's eyes futilely glanced at the screen and let out an internal sigh when everything on the screen only looked like a jumble of hieroglyphics. He found Slade's eye again and scowled, turning away when he saw a light smirk dance on the man's lips.
"You didn't have to smack me," he muttered with a long huff, crossing his arms defensively over his chest.
An audible sigh sounded from behind him after a few moments.
"No I suppose I didn't…"
A hand grabbed his shoulder and pulled him around, much to the boy's annoyance. However his icy glare melted off of his face when he saw the deep calm and seriousness that had fallen over Slade's form. The man was no longer smirking in amusement but instead a light flicker of concern brushed over his face so quickly Robin thought he had imagined it.
"But I need you to listen, Robin."
The boy dropped his eyes from the man, letting them fall to the floor. He nodded once in agreement while staring fixedly down at his gray socks. His thoughts would just not leave him in peace today. He hadn't meant to tune Slade out, it just had happened…
"Sorry," the boy mumbled gruffly under his breath. The hand on his shoulder tightened at the word, but quickly relaxed, shaking him lightly.
"Just…" Another sigh escaped the man's lips as the man continued, "Just don't let it happen again."
Robin looked up quickly as a devious smirk entered his eyes.
"No promises here."
Slade rolled his gray eye as a dark growl escaped his lips.
"Robin…"
"Hey maybe if you weren't so boring-"
This time the boy was able to duck the hand that came flying towards his face.
"First hallway you enter, how many doors are there?"
"Um," the boy mumbled as he racked his brain trying to remember the blueprint in his head, "Five, three on the right, one down at the end, and one on the left."
Slade looked up, "Air vent, third level, leads to where?"
"Uh…" Robin stuttered, trying to draw up a picture in his head.
"There are two stairwells in the space, where?"
"One in the um back left, wait no right corner, and then – "
"Possible escape route from second level balcony?"
"Um-"
"Hiding places on second floor hallway?"
"Errr…"
"Bottom floor entrance is surrounded by how many windows?"
"SIX," Robin blurted out in a vain attempt to cut off the man's long train of questions. The boy flinched as Slade shook his head and dropped the files down in front of him.
"There are no windows on the bottom floor entrance," the man said as a note of weariness entered his tone, "Keep studying."
Robin heaved a sigh of frustration as he leaned back in his chair, grumbling under his breath. He had been staring at these pieces of papers for over an hour now and still his knowledge of the Joker's hideouts wasn't up to Slade's ridiculous standards.
"Do I really need to know all this? I don't see why we can't just-"
Slade whipped around and sent the boy a harsh glare. "Can't just what? March in their blind without a plan and demand for Batman back? Because that worked so well for you the first time." The gears continued to whirl around the odd pair as Slade sat down a couple of paces away from the boy.
Robin grumbled under his breath and focused his attention back onto the blueprints in his hands. As much as he hated it, the man did have a point. Knowledge was power when one was facing an enemy, but that didn't mean he enjoyed staring at the same pictures for hours without reprieve. He cleared his throat as he turned back to face Slade with a question that had been bothering him.
"But seriously Slade, only three? That seems odd for the Joker…"
"Why should it?"
"Well I don't know. If you're a famous criminal wouldn't you have more than just three hideouts?"
Slade was already shaking his head in response. The man shuffled through the schematics on the screen, pulling up a new set of blueprints.
"Learn to listen, Robin. I never said the Joker only had three hideouts, I said he had three hideouts where he would most likely be holding Batman."
The boy furrowed his brows in confusion as he flipped over the sheets of paper Slade had given him.
"You know this for a fact?" Robin said glancing up from the schematics.
Slade didn't even glance up at the boy.
"Yes."
Robin scowled at the one worded response and dropped the papers down on the long console. This haunt was starting to get on his nerves. The vast emptiness felt as if it were drowning him in a sea of clanging gears. His eyes swung around the large space and then back to the man seated a few spaces away from him. Slade seemed relatively unaffected by his surroundings – cool and collected as always.
The pair had been sitting here for over an hour, and the most Robin had gotten the man to elaborate on was the extreme and dire need for him to memorize the schematics of the Joker's hideouts. Every time he would ask a question, Slade would talk him into a circle until he was back where he had started.
Frustrating didn't even begin to describe it.
"Care to elaborate?" Robin asked as an edge of annoyance crawled into his words. The boy leaned onto his hands as he felt the beginnings of headache forming beneath his eyes – specifically behind the eye that was now almost swollen shut. The robot sure had landed a nasty hit to his eye, but luckily the mask covered most of the bruise that was forming around it. The last this he needed was for Slade to –
"Are you alright?"
Robin groaned, pressing his hands deeper into his skull.
"Don't avoid the question, Slade."
The man rose from his seat and Robin heard his footsteps move closer to him.
"I could say the same to you, Robin."
The boy dropped his head to console, feeling the cool metal wash over his skin.
A hand gentle pressed itself against his skin, and the boy instinctively jerked away, a thick scowl falling over his face.
"Don't touch me," the boy snapped, standing from the chair he had been seated in. He ducked his head, taking a few quick steps back as Slade reached for him again.
The man swore under his breath as he sent the boy an icy glare.
"You're sick, Robin," Slade said as he advanced another step, only for the boy to take a matching step backwards. "You may have a fever."
Robin rolled his eyes as he responded without hesitation, "You're the one who's sick, Slade."
His gray eye narrowed dangerously as the man's fists clenched by his sides.
"Do not mock me, boy."
"Then leave me alone."
"Not when you're my responsibility-"
"Responsibility? I am not your-"
"Stop acting like an insolent child-"
"Stop acting like a controlling psychopath-"
"Robin-"
"Slade-"
"ENOUGH."
Both figures froze in their standoff as they swung around to face the warm smile of an older man. Wintergreen stood in the middle of the haunt and gestured to the bags of groceries in his hands. Amusement glinted in his two green eyes as he stared the pair down. His presence immediately dissipated the thick tension in the room and left behind a warm calmness.
"Might I suggest that both of you take a break."
Robin glanced at Slade, and the single gray eye slowly met his blue eyes.
Neither party could find a good enough reason to disagree.
"HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO DEAL WITH THAT BOY?"
"Inside voice, Slade."
The man whipped around and sent Wintergreen a deathly glare.
"I've had enough mockery for one day, Will. Please don't add to it."
The older man shrugged while flipping another page in his thick book. He leaned farther back into his chair, crossing his legs and resting the book in his lap.
"I am not mocking you, Slade," Wintergreen said unfazed by Slade's short tone, "I simply do not wish for the boy to hear this conversation."
Slade paused in his pacing and thumped his knuckles on the wall.
"Soundproof walls. Besides Robin's room is down the hall."
Wintergreen hummed thoughtfully and shifted his legs again, "You forget who you are dealing with, Slade."
The man rolled his single eye at Will and sat down in a chair across from him. Slade gazed over his small office and sighed, resting his head into his hand. "Trust me, Will," Slade said, glancing up, "I haven't forgotten."
Wintergreen's green eyes peered up at him from over his book. The light danced around the man as he leaned forward, snapping the novel shut.
"Then learn to have patience."
"He has a fever, Will."
"Nothing a nap can't fix."
"He's not paying attention to me."
"He's had a long day, Slade. So have you."
The one-eyed man quickly looked away and allowed his gaze to float over the small space. A sigh escaped his lips as he dragged a hand through his short, white locks. Long was an understatement. This day felt like an entire century of emotions wrapped up into a small, little present – except Slade wasn't exactly happy to receive this particular 'gift'.
He blinked and pulled up his sleeve, checking the time on his watch. It was nearing late evening now, and the boy was still asleep – well hopefully asleep. He hadn't checked the cameras in a while, and there was the possibility that Robin could be snooping around his haunt this very second. But call it intuition, or call it a hunch, but Slade doubted the boy had even thought about leaving his room.
He had been surprised when Robin had actually willingly decided to take a nap. It was odd, but considering the situation, his actions were understandable. The stress was eating at the boy. There were subtle yet blaring indicators that Slade had noticed throughout the day. The boy's actions were sharper, with a slight erratic edge. His fingers twitched and trembled when he was sitting. His eyes were constantly moving, darting to everything in the room. His mind was constantly thinking, distracting and pulling at the boy. Another sigh escaped Slade as he pressed his fingers into his temple. And he was going to drag this boy into the middle of the Joker's hideout.
Brilliant.
Such a brilliant idea.
"I can't do this, Will," Slade said quietly. He felt drained, which was odd for the man. He wasn't physically tired, but a heavy weight pulled at him and his mind, dragging him into exhaustion. The constant need to argue and battle with another person was taking a toll on the man – especially when that person was a stubborn teenage boy.
"Yes, you can, Slade. If you can rescue me from a horde of enemy soldiers, you can do this," Wintergreen said while setting the book aside.
"If he knew-"
"He doesn't."
"He'll figure it out soon enough."
"There's nothing you can do about it now."
"I could tell him."
A heavy silence fell over the room as the older man regarded his friend. Wintergreen brought his hand up and lightly rubbed his eyebrow as he considered the statement. With a light huff of breath, he rose from his chair and shrugged.
"That's your decision," he said as he walked over to the large bookcase and ran his fingers on the spines. "Do you really need so many books?" Wintergreen continued, muttering under his breath, "How am I supposed to put this book back when I don't even remember where I got it from?"
"Third row, second column, sixteenth book from the left."
Wintergreen turned around and glared at the man.
"Show off."
Slade shrugged, turning away and resting his head on his hand. "A man can try, I suppose," he said lightly which only caused Wintergreen to mutter more insults under his breath.
"But only a man who dresses up in a Halloween costume."
"Or a man who has a criminal psychopath for a friend."
With a snap, Wintergreen slammed the book back into place. "And who might that be? Last time I checked I have no criminal psychopaths for friends."
Slade said nothing as he felt the man come to stand beside him.
"The boy's rubbing off on you. Three days ago, you would have never said such a thing."
The man only shrugged the words off as he shifted in his chair. Another sighed pressed against his lips, but he held it in, too tired to even accomplish such a simple task.
"Have you ever thought he might be right, Will?"
A pause, then the man proceeded to speak a sound, definite, simple word.
"No."
"Neither had I, until this morning."
Slade shook his head as a growl of frustration escaped his lips. Why were such thoughts plaguing his mind right now? He had always been so sure, so confident that his actions were justified. But now a doubt had wormed its way into his mind. Had his desires and wants overshadowed him as a man? He had never considered himself as a criminal, as the evil in the world, but now…now he didn't quite know what he was…
A hand fell on his shoulder bringing him out of his thoughts.
"You are the man you want to be, Slade," Wintergreen said very softly, his words a faint whisper in the room.
Slade's hand reached up and touched his eye patch as the image of a woman filled his mind. Her strong, persuasive attitude. Her long, brunette locks. The radiance of strength and confidence she gave off. Her breath, soft and sweet against his cheek.
"She didn't want this."
Pain. The burning agony of her hatred and hurt. The look of betrayal in her eyes. The gun, the barrel that consumed his eye.
"Mistakes are made."
A light chuckle, bittersweet and scathing, filtered through the air as Slade shook his head. He looked up to catch the eyes of his old friend. "But it seems I keep making them, Will," Slade said as he leaned back into his chair, feeling the comforting leather wrap around him.
"And that, my dear friend, is merely a part of life," Wintergreen replied as he squeezed Slade's shoulder. His words were warm, filled with the years of comfort and wisdom of life. "No matter how old, how strong, how powerful, how confident you are, you will always make mistakes."
Wintergreen inhaled a deep breath.
"The challenge comes when you try to figure out how to fix them, but there's always a way. There's always another road to take, another door cracked open, another piece of gum hidden in the bottom of a bag, another mile to run before you get to the finish line, another piece of chocolate in the box – "
"What are you-"
"The point is," Wintergreen said quickly as a light smile grew on his face, "You'll find a way to fix this mess."
Slade shook his head as he mirrored the older man's smile. "You're senile."
"I know."
SMACK
Wintergreen's hand zoomed into Slade's skull with a crack that reverberated in the room.
"WILL-"
The older man had already bounded away from the now very aggravated Slade and had thrown the door that led to the hallway wide open. He slipped through the opening until only his head remained in the room. Wintergreen smiled, light dancing around his form.
"But only I can call myself that, Slade," Wintergreen said as he slipped into the hallway and traveled down the hall.
Slade shook his head, muttering under his breath. Sometimes he severely questioned the sanity of his older friend. The sound of dishes, clanking around in the kitchen, brought his attention back to the doorway.
"You'll do well to remember that in the future," the man called loudly from the kitchen, his voice echoing from down the hall.
"What happened to using your inside voice?" Slade hollered back with equal vigor.
"Oh, the boy's already up Slade!"
The man was up and standing within a second and quickly appeared in the doorway of his office. He snapped it shut, swiped his fingers over the handle, felt the lock engage, and continued on his trek down the hall. Slade stopped when he reached the kitchen, his eye scanning around the room as he turned to Will suspiciously.
"Where is he?"
The older man shrugged as he began pulling pans and pots out of the cabinets. "Oh probably still in his room," he replied lightly.
"Then why did you-"
"It's not healthy for you to sulk in your office all day," Wintergreen said with an amused smile. His green eyes flickered over to the clock on the wall and gestured to it, "Besides it about time you go and wake him up. He's slept long enough."
Slade crossed his hands over his chest and raised an eyebrow. He wasn't going to just march into Robin's room and wake him up like – like he was – Slade shook his head madly, trying to clear the thought from his brain.
"Will, can't you –"
"Nope," Will said, popping his lips, "I have dinner to make."
"But can't you – "
"Give this to him while you're at it," Will said while chucking a bottle of hair gel across the room.
Slade caught it with an expression of disbelief sprawled across his face.
"You can't be serious. Will. He's-"
"Not my job."
"Now that's not fair-"
"Fair is where you take a pig."
Slade growled and threw up his hands, stalking away in defeat.
That man could be impossible sometimes.
To knock or not to knock?
Slade's hand hovered over the door as he mentally berated the old man in the kitchen. If he knocked and Robin was asleep, the boy probably wouldn't hear him. But if he didn't knock and just walked in while the boy was awake, would he feel as if his privacy was invaded? What if the boy was in the shower right now? Then it wouldn't even matter if Slade knocked or not as Robin wouldn't hear him either way. Slade glanced at his watch.
Do people even take showers at this time of day?
With a huff of annoyance, the man settled for a compromise and drummed his fist lightly over the door before opening it. He stepped into the dimly lit room to be met with a stolid gaze from a pair of eyes hidden under a domino mask. The man resisted a sigh of relief when he saw that Robin was perched on the edge of his bed, the blueprints, now crumpled and creased from use, clenched tightly in his hands.
"Normal people generally wait after they knock before barging into a room," Robin said while turning his attention back down to the papers in his hands.
Slade resisted the urge to strange the boy right then and there.
Learn to have patience.
Easier said than done.
"I don't think I'm considered to be a normal person."
Robin's eyes shifted back to him, and Slade met his gaze evenly.
"Can't argue there," the boy muttered under his breath.
Slade raised an eyebrow, but let the comment slide. His eye studied the boy as he took a couple more steps into the room. The boy's body reflexively grew tenser, and he shifted so that he was a little further to the edge of the bed. Slade resisted the urge to sigh.
He still doesn't trust me.
Robin pushed his hair up and out of his eyes as he moved his feet so that they hovered inches away from the ground. The boy glanced up once more and set the blueprints down next to him.
"Something you wanted?"
The words weren't accusatory or menacing, they were spoken merely as a statement with an underlying hint of curiosity. Slade paused and leaned against the bedframe a couple feet away from the boy. He tossed the bottle of hair gel to the boy, and Robin caught it with a deft ease. The boy scrunched his eyes together in confusion as he read the label, but quickly straightened in surprise. His eyes swung over to Slade.
"A gift from Will," the man said with a light shrug as his eye swept over the room.
Robin glanced up and then back down to the bottle in his hand. "Wow, um thanks then."
"Don't thank me. I'm just the delivery boy."
The boy's eyes widened under his mask, but soon a small smile grew over his lips.
"The great all mighty Slade reduced to a hair gel delivery boy? I thought I'd never see the day."
Slade quickly rose to his full height. "I suggest you go use that gel before I decide to change my profession again," the man said with a menacing glint in his eye.
Robin simply rolled his eyes, and moved off to the bathroom, but Slade couldn't help but notice the slight flinch his words had elicited from the boy. It was so subtle the man's sharp eye had almost missed it, but he had seen it, and it caused a degree of uncertainty to run through the man.
He quickly shook the feeling off and picked up the blueprints from the boy's bed. Robin had certainly been through them a few times, as they were now several creases and lines in the once pristine paper. He flipped them over and examined the small markings the boy had made in the margins.
Escape route…
Window #14…
Stairs connect to lower right hallway…
Slade raised an eyebrow at the mess, surprised that the boy had put as much effort into it as he had into it. It seemed the boy did actually listen to directions every once in a while.
"Quiz me again."
Robin stood in the doorway of the bathroom, his hair styled back into his signature spikes. He walked forward, and Slade immediately noticed a change in his demeanor. The boy seemed stronger, more confident…more like the crime fighter he had grown to know and less like the boy under the mask.
The traffic color uniform.
The domino mask.
The hair gel.
They were all defenses - things and objects to further hide away the boy who lurked beneath it all. Slade glanced back down at the blueprints in his hand. He could understand it, wanting to bury away the past, wanting to forget it all, wanting to be someone else…
You are the man you want to be.
He was a man behind a black and orange mask as Robin was a boy behind layers and layers of lies.
Because that's what everything was at the end of the day, one big giant lie. At the end of the day the mask comes off, and you're left with the person underneath it. Slade's hand reached up to his eye patch and paused as he caught Robin's gaze. He dropped his hand to his side and tossed the papers onto the bed.
"You're ready."
The boy's mouth widened in shock as he waved his arms in protest. "But-"
Slade held up his hand and silenced the boy.
"I trust you," he said after a pause. The words slid out of the man's mouth with ease, and surprisingly Slade found he actually meant them. He did trust the boy. As much as it defiled every code and lesson he stood by, he could find no reason to not trust Robin. The boy was very much like himself beneath it all. They were similar – mirrored reflections of the world.
Robin quickly looked away, his gaze burying its way into the dresser as his fists clenched at his sides. "Even when I don't trust myself?" he whispered, his voice barely audible in the silence.
The words made the man pause and take a step forward. Robin didn't move.
"Yes."
An eerie stillness came over the boy, making it appear that he was no longer present in time. He was somewhere else, living another moment, another memory, another life.
"I've made too many mistakes to be trustworthy, Slade."
"So have I," Slade responded smoothly, continuing on his path toward the boy.
"Your parents didn't die because of your mistake though," Robin whispered as his hands began to shake.
"No," Slade began as he paused in front of the boy. An internal battle raged inside of the man as he gazed down at the small form in front of him. It would be so easy to say nothing, to walk away and keep the lies buried under his mask. It would be so easy to deny the truth that haunted his footsteps. It would be so easy to keep himself walled off and hidden.
You are the man you want to be.
The words rang with a truth deep inside the man, and he mentally steeled himself for the words he had to say. No matter what, no matter how tough or hard or chaotic things got, Slade Wilson would never take the easy way out. He may be many things – a criminal, a soldier, a failed father – but he would never be a coward.
"But my son has."
Robin's eyes immediately snapped up as he gazed at the man's face in surprise.
"You have a son?" he gasped as his eyes flickered in disbelief.
"Had, Robin. I had a son," Slade corrected as he inhaled a deep breath of air. The words, although still painful to say, seemed to have dulled in their intensity.
Robin's mouth framed a silent 'oh' and the boy quickly muttered an apology, looking away. Slade sighed and rested his hand on the boy's shoulder, feeling all the animosity from the day wash away. When things were framed in the light of death, arguments and quarrels seemed petty and pointless. The boy understood loss. The boy understood pain.
But it had now become Slade's responsibility to make sure Robin didn't experience it again.
"We leave for the hideouts tonight, Robin," Slade said as he squeezed the boy's shoulder. He immediately felt Robin tense but whether it was from the words or the contact, Slade couldn't tell. He pulled the boy gently and then dropped his hand and moved to the door.
"Come on, Wintergreen's making dinner. And if anything gets the man mad, it's when I don't show up on time."
Slade continued the trek through the door, not bothering to glance back at the boy behind him, he knew Robin would follow.
As the carpet shifted and sagged under his feet, the man couldn't help but feel he had just opened up a tornado of questions from the boy. He could feel them brimming in the air, surrounding the boy in a haze of thoughts and emotions. They were there just on the edge of Robin's lips, but the boy wouldn't ask, no not yet – not while the surprise was still fresh. But they would come, eventually the boy would gather the courage to ask Slade about his past – about his dead son.
The questions would come.
Maybe not for hours, days, weeks or years…
But one way or another the questions would find him.
And with questions came answers…
Answers that led to a door into the past.
Slade Wilson sighed as a deep dread settled inside of him.
For once he was certain…
He did not want to have to knock on that door.
A/N: So this was a little shorter and not much happened, I just wanted to set it up for the next chapter! Also, I'll try to start updating once a week again now that things are back to normal.
THANKS FOR READING:)
SEE YOU NEXT UPDATE! HAVE A GREAT WEEK!