A/N: Wow...um has it really been this long?

Yes. Yes it has. Life is really strange. I feel like its only been a month since I updated last but its been more than a year D: i'm still asking myself how that happened...

So very sorry. SO MUCH has changed for me over this past year, so I think the writing side of my brain shut off as I was just trying to adjust. But I'm in a good place now and my writing has turned back on! It's been so long but I've always been thinking about this story...I will finish it...promise!

So thank you for sticking with me and for everyone who reviewed during my long unannounced break. I appreciate y'all taking the time to give this story a read and for all the support! It's the reason I keep writing!

This chapter is long. Longest one I've written by far, but since its been so long, I figured I needed something long. It's not too heavy plot wise - but that will be next chapter! I hope it doesn't disappoint after the wait!

So depending on how things roll, I'm predicting that I'll update again at the end of April or middle of May. Life is keeping me busy!

So if you managed to get through all that...here ya go! Hope ya enjoy!

Chapter 26

Pieces

White.

The color was warm and soft, enveloping his skin. He bathed in the warmth, allowing it to run over his body and soak into his mind. It moved over his skin, slowly getting softer and lighter with each passing moment and delving deeper into this mind.

He was always so cold. Perhaps this would make the pain go away.

"Dick!"

The boy opened his eyes and winced as sunlight poured into his vision. He turned around, holding a hand against his face so he could see the person calling his name.

"Who-"

Two large arms crashed against his body and yanked him off of his perch and onto the ground. The boy gasped at the strong force and reflexively tried to push away, but he was only met with a stronger grip that squeezed him in a tighter hold.

"What on earth do you think you are doing?"

The grating words crashed over the boy as he craned his neck around, vainly trying to catch the last fleck of the sun. A hand grabbed his chin and yanked his face around, and Dick let out a cry of dismay. He needed to see that last bit of sun. In those few moments, the boy felt as if he could almost feel her presence. As if he could almost grab onto to her soul for a few more seconds…and hear her laugh…before she slipped away again…before he only heard her screams… Those few moments in his life were the one he waited for every day.

Cold.

That's how he felt when looking into those deep, brown eyes. So unnervingly cold. The strong hands were shaking him again, questioning him, interrogating him.

"Why are you standing out on that ledge, Richard?"

The voice was sometimes even colder than the eyes.

Dick's eyes flickered over to the ledge that branched out from the balcony as the last flecks of sunlight glinted off the smooth surface. He watched the sunset from the ledge every evening since he had arrived at this place. He didn't understand why Wayne only had a problem with it now…

The small boy stared face to face with those cold, brown eyes and remained entangled within those cold, strong hands as the last bits of sunlight slowly dwindled down his back – as the last traces of his mother left, leaving only the bitter night behind.

A sigh escaped the older man as the grip around Dick's arm loosened slightly.

"Richard, you can't do stuff like that. It's dangerous-"

"Heights don't scare me." His voice was soft and quiet. The boy dropped his head, staring down at his bare feet. The tile was growing cold.

Another sigh.

"Well heights scare me, okay? Don't do that again."

"But-"

"No buts. This isn't the circus. If you fall there isn't anything to catch you."

Dick flinched at those words and pulled away from the cold hands, stepping back into the last warmth of the night. He closed his eyes as he felt the tears rising up in his body, seeping from the wounds that still hadn't healed.

He felt the man try to pull his closer again, but Dick pushed against the grip, taking another step back.

"Mr. Wayne…" his voice was a whisper. The boy didn't trust himself to speak any louder.

"Bruce, Dick. You know you can call me Bruce."

"Mr. Wayne," Dick repeated again, "I won't climb on the ledge."

There was another silence between the two as Dick shakily took another step back. He waited for the man to leave so he could cry alone. That's how these conversations normally went. Mr. Wayne would come in, tell him to do something or in this case not to do something, Dick would agree and then Wayne would leave.

So Dick waited, feeling the tears begin to rise up again.

Another sigh from the man. Dick waited for the footsteps that would let him know it was okay to open his eyes.

He waited.

And waited.

He heard the man shift, but he didn't leave.

"You can go now, Mr. Wayne. I won't climb on the ledge…" Dick whispered quietly again.

Still the boy waited.

He stood there, eyes shut and head down as the sun continued to trickle down his legs and as the man continued to stand in front of him.

"Richard…"

The voice was soft.

"Look at me."

The boy shook his head. If he looked at the man, Wayne would see his tears.

He felt a hand tug his arm again, but the boy pulled back. He refused to move. He shook his head harder as a small hiccup escaped his mouth.

"You can't-"the boy started as a tear slipped down his cheek.

"You can't bring them back, Mr. Wayne."

The hand tightened around his arm as the little boy was pulled forward out of the last rays of sunlight.

The tears began to fall down the boy's cheek as the memories came rushing in.

His parents were gone.

His parents were dead.

Richard opened his eyes as another hiccup escaped his lips. Those deep, chocolate eyes stared back at him, pulling him closer. The boy's small hands dabbed away his tears, smearing them over his cheek.

Wayne stood up and held out his hand. Dick blinked, clearing the tears from his eyes and tentatively took it. His small hand disappeared inside the man's fist, and the boy felt himself being dragged back over to the ledge. With a small smile, the man hoisted Dick up on top of the small perch and with a grunt quickly followed suit.

"No, Richard, I can't."

A hand fell over the little boy's chest as he was pulled against the strong man. Broken rays of sunlight filtered over the pair.

"But I can at least keep you safe."

The voice was soft. The voice was calm.

Richard leaned into the grip, feeling warmth even when the last rays of sunlight trickled away.

Slade Wilson sat on the edge of his bed and stared.

The darkness rushed around him as his feet tapped lightly against the ground. A familiar tune had wound its way back into his head and he ticked off the seconds of the night to the slow, steady beat.

He remembered how the song drifted softly between the trees. He remembered the dancing and the light hand that rested in his own. He remembered the dismal lights that had barely illuminated the brown grass they stood on.

And he remembered her figure silhouetted against the night sky and her radiant smile that had melted his world.

He always seemed to go back to that moment. Her smile always had a calming effect on him.

"So what am I to do now, Adeline?"

His voice sounded oddly hollow in the air and his foot faltered in its beat. Slade blinked and shook his head at himself. The man inhaled deeply and with the long exhale pushed the memory out of his body, leaving behind only a thin residue of her in his mind – the last dregs that always lingered.

His eyes fell down to his pillow and stared.

Sleep.

He was tired. He should sleep. His mind told him as much.

But he simply stared at the pillow and waited.

For what?

The silent question was answered with the creak of a door.

White.

Robin blinked, groaned, and tried to move, only to find his body wasn't responding. Cool air burned through his lungs as he flexed his hands. His palms smoothed over an unfamiliar fabric and the boy frowned.

Where was he?

His head pounded with an incessant beating, drumming out his ability to think clearly. He cracked an eye and allowed it to settle on his bright surroundings. As his vision focused, the room progressively dimmed in adjustment. In fact, it was quite dark…

The boy pushed himself up, and groaned. Every joint in his body burned with the small effort. His hands pressed deeper into the soft fabric and dragged along it, allowing the plush texture to run over his skin. Robin swung his legs over the bed and dropped his head into his hands.

Where were the Titans?

Robin pulled at his drumming mind, tearing it apart for a shred of remembrance. But all he achieved was a dark abyss. Nothing. He couldn't recall a single piece of information.

The boy exhaled a long breath of air. This wasn't the first time he had woken up in a foreign place with amnesia. It had happened quite a lot when he had been with Batman actually.

At the thought of the caped crusader, the boy paused. There was something there. Something he should remember…but he hadn't seen Batman…since…since he left all those years ago. Why would his name mean anything to him now?

Perhaps it was that odd dream he had. He hadn't thought of that memory in quite some time and for it to appear in his dreams was a disconcerting experience for the boy. When Bruce had found him standing on that ledge all those years ago, it had been the first-time the man had ever tried to comfort him after the death of his parents. Those moments were far and few, but despite the frustrations he still had with Bruce, those memories always remained tucked away in Robin's heart. They were all the boy had.

But still Batman's name lingered in his head.

Probably nothing. His mind was likely just trying to grasp onto anything that felt familiar at this point. The boy brushed it aside as he stood up and clung tightly onto the bedframe. He took an unsteady step forward as he made his way to one of the doors in the room.

Batman…

The name felt like a dull itch in the back of his mind.

He pushed the door open with an uneasy step and squinted his eyes at the hallway. More dull lighting. More dull carpeting. More dull paint. Robin's eyes traced the spotless flooring to the crisp, white doorframe at the end of the hall and chuckled to himself. While the decorating was beyond boring, whoever lived here kept it in way better shape than anything at the Tower.

Robin stepped into the foreign hallway, his hand dragging on the textured wall as he walked. He eventually came upon another door and tried the handle.

Unlocked.

He peered inside and furrowed his eyes at the contents of the small closet. A mixture of cleaning supplies stared back at him all neatly arranged on the shelves. He reached out and picked up a green bottle of laundry detergent and examined the fresh liquid oozing from the side. So someone did live here. The question was simply…

Who?

A frown appeared on his visage as he placed the bottle back down. He didn't wake up with any restraints. He didn't wake up in the middle of a torture chamber. He didn't sense any impending doom about to crash down on him. And besides his pounding headache, the boy felt alright. So, whoever it was couldn't be that bad…right? The boy stared long and hard at the bottle of laundry detergent. A person who did their own laundry, couldn't be an evil supervillain…right?

Unless they like their clothes to smell good while taking over the world.

Robin snorted at the thought, shut the door with a muffled thud and continued his trek down the hall. He aimlessly scratched at his thigh as he tried the handle of another door.

Locked.

The boy frowned and reached down for his utility belt. His hand grabbed a fistful of his shirt fabric and his grimace deepened. Unwise to be unarmed in a foreign place. Batman would not approve…

Batman…

He released his grip on the handle and continued forward, contemplating exactly what he was supposed to do. Whoever lived here obviously meant him no harm as he had awoken free of restraints and security. Unless of course this entire space was currently acting as his makeshift prison with hidden security measures he either couldn't remember or didn't know about. The boy looked around the small space and sighed. Might as well explore while he still could.

With each step the drumming in his head slowly faded and in its midst, it left behind a jumble of images Robin couldn't decipher.

Red…

Running…

Screaming…

Gunshots…

The boy furrowed his eyebrows. They all blended together into a haze of confusion. His hand fell on another handle and he pushed it down. The door swung open with a loud creek, and Robin cringed as he took a step into the dark room.

"Gosh, someone needs to fix this," the boy muttered to himself as he felt along the wall for a light switch.

"And someone needs to learn how to knock."

Robin froze.

The smooth, eerie voice dragged at his mind, tugging at the confusion of memories with a violent pull. Robin wrenched forward as the world around him began to slow. The dim light from the hallway skated across his legs as they gave way from underneath him. His palms hit the floor as a single word fell from his lips.

"Slade…"

His mind was drowned in a bellow of screams as the images in his mind erupted and came rushing back.

Slade sprang to his feet, his weariness all but forgotten. He wrapped his arms around the boy and pulled him up as an unnerving gasp rushed through Robin's lips, sending a stab of panic into Slade.

"Robin, just calm-"

The boy wrenched, breaking free from the man's grip. His breath came in long, ragged gasps. Slade's eye scanned the boy as a thousand thoughts rushed through this mind. He hadn't expected Robin to regain consciousness for another half day which would have given himself ample time to prepare for the boy's rough transition back to reality. The man ran his eye up and down the hunched over figure as worry seeped into his brain. He had not anticipated a situation like this.

Slade took a step forward, but Robin shut his eyes and held his shaking hand out.

"Wait."

The word was spoken so softly that Slade paused in his movements, watching as Robin's face contorted into pain. The boy's body trembled as he furiously blinked, wildly looking around the room.

"It's all...It's all-I can't…" Robin trembled. His voice was a hollow quiver as he furiously looked around the room but saw nothing except the nightmarish images in his mind.

"Just breathe and focus. The poison took quite a toll on your body and your mind needs time to sort through everything," Slade said as he took another small step forward, slowly but surely closing the gap between himself and the boy.

"Poison…"

Robin grew very still as the word slipped through his lips. He snapped his head down and ran his hand over his thigh, suddenly aware that the wound was no longer there. Slade remained impassively silent as he watched the gears begin rolling in the boy's head, connecting the shattered pieces of his mind. Robin would get there eventually…it was just a matter of time…

The Boy Wonder raised his eyes as he studied the man before him. Pieces shifted and slid into place.

"Slade – " Robin started but was cut off by his own cry of pain that racketed his entire body. The boy squeezed his eyes shut as he tumbled into the bulky desk, sending papers flying to the ground.

Slade immediately moved forward and grabbed Robin's arm, pulling him up. Sweat rolled down the boy's forehead, but Robin pushed away as another cry bled through his lips.

"Space, give me space," the boy wheezed as he pressed his hands into his head and leaned against the wall.

Slade stepped back as his hands twitched by his sides. The poison had messed with Robin's memory. The man had anticipated as much but the degree of the damage appeared to be larger than he had estimated.

The mind was outside of Slade's reach. He could heal the boy's body. but he couldn't fix the mind. Robin would have to fight this himself.

Unless he couldn't…

The thought burned in the back of Slade's mind.

The pounding in Robin's head dulled as pieces began to click together. Slowly but surely the events from the past few days morphed into a cohesive frame within his mind.

Catwoman appearing in Jump…

The Joker almost killing him…

Finding Slade…

Arguing with Slade…

Fighting with Slade…

Bickering with Slade…

Robin rose to his feet with a heavy breath, feeling as if he were pushing up against the entire gravity of the world.

Apologizing to Slade…

He turned.

The gunshot

The poison

The blood

Batman…

The two locked eyes and Robin suddenly grew very still.

"You tried to kill him…"

The words fell onto the floor, lying tall like an insurmountable barrier between them.

"Robin-" Slade started with an eerie calmness.

"You tried to kill him, Slade."

The raw rage that Robin's words held within them grated up against the unnervingly calmness around the man. A fury Robin had never felt before bubbled inside of his mind as he took a menacing step forward. The image of Slade's sword glinting in the night replayed over and over again in his mind. The boy knew what he saw. There was no denying it. The person he had placed his trust into had managed to shatter it with the simple arch of a sword.

"Robin-"

"Why?" the boy snapped as his hands twitched in anger. The thought burned in his mind, rising above all else. What had possessed the man to even think about such an unforgivable act? The whole purpose of the mission was to rescue Batman, not to put him six feet underground.

He'll always be a villain.

The unwanted thought snuck its way into the boy's mind like a cold whisper that crept around one in the darkest of nights. Robin dropped his eyes to the floor as the very notion caused his blood to freeze. Had everything the man said been a lie? Was Slade only toying with him?

Robin turned away pressing his hands against the wall as he unsuccessfully tried to take a calming breath. The past few days couldn't have been a lie – they just couldn't. Maybe Slade had a valid reason for his actions. The boy shut his eyes as he allowed his frustration to wash over him. Or maybe Slade had been lying to him all along, and he had just been too hopeful to admit it.

"He shot you Robin—"

"That didn't give you the right to kill him, Slade," Robin yelled. The boy looked down at his thigh as his hand glided over the smooth muscle. Where a gaping bullet hole should have been, there was only seamless skin. A chill crawled up his spine as Robin considered the power the man held within his grasp. He wasn't sure if he wanted to know what Slade had done to heal him this time. The man certainly had some frightening healing concoctions. It was like he could reverse time itself.

Except he couldn't. Batman had shot him, and nothing could change that. Even if the wound had healed, the scars would remain. A long sigh escaped the boy's lips as he leaned against the wall.

Robin could never believe Batman had truly wished to hurt him. There was no way…unless…unless…

The Batman you know is gone.

But Robin couldn't believe that either.

Nothing was adding up. Nothing made sense. His entire world had been flipped upside down and shredded into millions of pieces, and now the boy was sitting in the middle of those pieces wondering just how on earth he had gotten here.

A huff of frustration from the man drove Robin's anger deeper into his mind.

"Robin – "

"STOP PLAYING GAMES, SLADE," Robin roared as he slammed his fists into the wall, causing the dry wall to dent and crack. The boy's knuckles hardly felt the impact.

"I'm not playing games with you," the man evenly replied as a note of disbelief crept into his voice.

Robin let out a growl of irritation as he slammed his fist into the wall again causing the dent to grow deeper. All his emotions were on overload right now. Every detail was fresh and raw in his mind, like an oozing gash that wouldn't stop bleeding. The events from the night kept replaying in his thoughts like a terrible glitch.

"Everything's a game, Slade," he whispered as his eyes fluttered shut.

A hand fell on his shoulder and Robin flinched, feeling his emotional turmoil crack at the slight movement.

"Robin, I need you to-"

The Boy Wonder whipped around and threw a scathing uppercut at the man. Slade jerked back as the blow brushed past his chin. But Robin lashed out again throwing a wicked punched aimed straight for the man's face. With a grunt, Slade grabbed Robin's hand. The sheer ferocity and anger behind the punch sent a mild tinge up the man's shoulder, and with a hiss, Slade shifted his weight, pulling the boy forward and throwing Robin off balance.

The boy anticipated the move however and instead used the momentum to drive his body into Slade's abdomen and throw the pair into the wall. With a loud crash, the combined weight and momentum of the pair shattered the thin layer of dry wall, sending dust and debris raining down among them.

Robin rolled away, heaving himself off the ground with an angry huff.

"To do what, Slade? I've done everything you've said and look where it's gotten me," the boy shouted as he threw his arms into the air. The words tugged at the boy's brokenness, laying bare his greatest fear – that he had placed his trust in the wrong man.

Dust spun in the room as Slade pushed himself off the wall and reoriented himself, adjusting his body so that he directly faced the boy. Without waiting for a response, Robin charged again, releasing a barrage of poorly placed attacks on the man. Slade did little but continue to deflect the blows as Robin advanced, releasing his anger and aggression on the one person he could blame for the mess he was in.

"Robin – "

The boy was hardly fazed by the sound of his own name as he hurled another punch at the man. Instead of blocking the blow, Slade ducked, throwing Robin's momentum forward. With a quick sweep of his arms, the man yanked him around and shoved the lithe form against the wall.

Robin furiously blinked as his vision spun from the sudden impact. He growled and immediately tried to shove the unfaltering being off, but soon found his hands locked in an iron grip. The boy kicked out with his legs, but felt Slade step forward, pressing them into the large metal door.

"Robin," Slade snapped as the boy continued to squirm in his grasp, "Listen to me."

The command fell on unhearing ears as the boy let out a ragged breath. Robin wrenched his head to the side, slamming his eyes shut. He couldn't move. He couldn't fight. He couldn't do anything but face the reality around him and the new emotion that began to hammer in his chest.

Panic

"I-I can't," Robin gasped as he felt the world begin to melt around him. His breathing quickened as a burning sensation filled his eyes and trickled down his cheeks.

He couldn't do this.

He couldn't fix this.

He would never get Batman back.

The Boy Wonder tensed as his breathing shook his entire body, sending him deeper into the spiral of panic. The pressure around his arms and legs loosened, and the boy found himself sinking to the ground as gravity plowed into him.

"Robin."

The Boy Wonder leaned his head against the wall as tears continued to wash down his face. He felt himself curl into his body as he tried to force the feeling away. Instead, it redoubled in its intensity, rushing into his chest and making it harder for the boy to breathe.

A hand grabbed his chin and tugged his face down.

"It's going to be okay."

The words went right through Robin's ears as the boy furiously blinked but hardly saw the figure before him. In its place, the image of the Caped Crusader dominated his mind. He saw Batman, bent over with blood running down his arms – a hollow shell of his former self. The image sent shards of glass into Robin's mind as the drumming in his heart intensified. Here he was faced with his ultimate demise – to fail the one person who had given him everything.

A warm hand pressed up against his cheek. He dimly heard his name being called once again, but it did little to slice through the loss of control the boy was feeling. Robin shut his eyes as tears bled down his face at an irrepressible rate.

He felt a soft tug that pulled at his skin, but the boy thought little of it. He stayed wrapped within his own thoughts and mind as the haunting image of Batman hung over him like a dark shadow. The tug intensified and suddenly cool air whipped across his hot, angry eyes. The boy blinked.

Steel gray met a brilliant blue as a domino mask flittered to the floor.

"It's going to be okay."

Shock spiked through Robin's system as the words washed over the boy. He blinked, gazing into the eye of the man before him. The cool and soothing voice pushed away the blinding emotions that had rocketed through his small frame. A strong pair of hands moved to his shoulders and gave them a gentle squeeze.

"It's going to be okay."

Robin's blue eyes blinked again as the words clicked in his mind. A deep breath slipped through his lips as the weight of the situation lifted from his chest. For once in a very long time, his eyes and his mind were free from the weight of the mask. He was no longer the leader of the Titans, the sidekick of Batman, or the hero of Jump city. He was just a boy who was at his wit's end and struggling to see the solution in a sea of chaos.

And in front of him was a man who very well may be able to part that sea.

Two hands slipped underneath his arms and pulled him to his feet. Robin stumbled slightly at the abrupt movement, but again found the reassuring pressure on his shoulders. A deep weariness settled over the boy, reaching into his body and tugging at his joints and bones. As he closed his eyes, he leaned his head against the unmovable being in front of him, feeling the weight of the situation drain off him. He felt the soft fabric of Slade's shirt brush up against his skin.

It's going to be okay.

The words echoed in his mind as Robin allowed all the stress, anxiety and fear to drain from his body and mind. Time seemed to still as the boy stood and allowed himself to absorb the strange comfort that radiated from the being in front of him.

He didn't know how long he stood there. All Robin knew was that when the remaining dregs of his panic faded away and his breathing returned to normal, a small part of him didn't want to move. But he did. Eventually the boy pulled away and straightened up, running his fingers through his gel-less hair and facing the man with his clear, blue eyes.

The irony of the situation was not lost on the boy. Slade removing his mask should have caused panic, not alleviate it. Robin knew what he was feeling didn't make any logical sense. He knew that he would probably regret it later. But he also knew that at that moment, he needed a break from the mask. He needed a break from the driven and fearless hero everyone deemed him to be. He needed to come to terms with the mess he was trapped in as himself. He needed to believe that he could trust Slade, and he needed someone to see what he was beyond the mask.

Broken.

A flush crept up to the boy's cheeks as he suddenly became aware of just how much of a mess he truly was.

"Slade, I-" Robin started. But before he could stumble through a convoluted apology, Slade held up his hand and stopped the boy.

"Happens to the best of us, Robin."

The boy snorted as he cocked his head to the side. His bright, blue eyes, despite being rimmed with a red irritation, gleamed in the light. "Even you?"

The man nodded as a distant look appeared in his eye.

"Even me."

Slade's gray eye remained fixed on the boy, but instead of shying away, Robin gazed back at him with an odd intensity. His vibrant, blue eyes had no mask to hide behind, and they locked onto the man, studying every inch of his form. For once both villain and hero truly saw each other.

No masks.

No lies.

No deceptions.

A shudder ran through Robin's body as Slade's gaze dug into him. He felt bare without his mask like he was missing an extension of himself. His eyes flickered to where it rested on the floor and his instincts screamed at him to pick it up and slap it back on his face. He hesitated though. A small part of himself wanted to leave it there – like a relic among the dust and ruin of the room.

The boy bent down and ran his hands over the thin mask as Batman's endless harping drummed in his mind. The Caped Crusader would be beyond furious if he found out about this. If Slade connected the pieces to his real identity – and Robin knew the man easily could now – the boy could have potentially just endangered the entire League. But where a scathing panic should have been, Robin felt an odd reassurance and peace.

"Everyone has a right to their own life."

The whisper broke the boy out of his thoughts, and he looked up to find Slade's gray eye focused on his mask. The two stared at one another for a moment as Robin regarded the man. Slade knew exactly what he had been thinking.

Eventually, he simply nodded, trusting the unspoken sentiment between the man's words. Perhaps Slade would hold true to his promise and leave the person behind the mask alone. Even if Slade did change his mind, Robin could find a way to leverage the man's identity against his own.

Another sigh slipped through Robin's lips as he checked the tacky adhesive around the edges of his domino mask. He really hoped it wouldn't have to come to that – a battle of who has the better blackmail. He glanced back up at the man and found the unwavering, gray eye fixed on him. Somehow though, he trusted Slade. While the man was manipulative and cruel, he had a sense of honor to him and a line that even he wouldn't cross.

The boy reached down to grab the mask, but as his hands brushed across the comforting fabric, unwelcome yet familiar words slipped into his mind.

I let my parents die.

The words caused the boy to visibly flinch as the last of his memories finally clicked into place. The mask slipped from his hands as he slammed his eyes shut and forced himself to remain calm.

The poison in the bullet had dragged up the nightmarish memory of his parents' deaths and had made it the reality of his mind. The Joker must have taken a note out of Scarecrow's book to make that horrific toxin. He had relived every terrible second of that night. Every painful moment of that sickening night all over again. He watched his parents die. And he remembered. He remembered how he had failed them – how he had let them fall.

But after all those years, after everything the boy had been through, he had never said those words out loud – to anyone. He had never told anyone about the guilt he felt…until last night.

He remembered Slade. He remembered the man's voice through the confusing reality. He remembered the soothing force breaking his mind from the poison. He remembered the sheer overwhelming emptiness that had filled him. He remembered the hot tears that had trailed down his face.

I let my parents die.

And he remembered the powerful pair of arms that had wrapped around him. Those were the last words he had said before his world had faded to black, and those arms had been the only thing keeping his mind from spinning out of control.

And just like that, a hand was on his shoulder, drawing him out of his thoughts and back into reality.

A different hand.

A different man.

But the same trickle of warmth eased its way into the boy.

"I won't use it against you, Robin."

But the boy was already shaking his head at the words. He pulled away and stood.

"It's not that I…I just – "

"What's wrong?"

The question echoed into the recesses of Robin's mind as his thoughts tumbled around him. His heart ached with a deep pain that for many years he had always tried to bury deep within himself.

"Do you think," Robin started but stopped as he forced himself to take another breath. The hand reappeared on his shoulder.

The boy opened his eyes. "Do you think…"

The silence in the room ate into his heart. The dark space wrapped around him as he found the words he had carried inside of him for the past seven years.

"…that I could have saved them," the boy continued. His voice was an empty whisper in the room. "My parents…that I could have stopped it."

The grip on his shoulder tightened as a few seconds ticked by in a wordless silence.

"You were eight."

Robin turned around, causing Slade to drop his hand. His blue eyes glistened in the soft light as they clearly reflected the pain he had kept hidden away all these years – all behind a thin piece of fabric. The boy looked up at the man and allowed his eyes to search the man's face for answers he had always longed for.

"But I should've done something. They're dead because I couldn't –"

"No Robin," Slade said as he halted the vicious train of thought. His voice was strong and soothing, lacking the subtle edge that gave the man his intimidating aura. "They're dead because the world is a cruel place," he continued, his presence tall and powerful in the darkness of the room. "You were just a boy. Nothing is your fault."

Robin dropped his eyes to the floor, wanting to believe the words the man said, but finding them hard to grasp amidst the pain he felt. Perhaps Slade was right. Maybe there was nothing he could have done to save them. But every time his mind warped him back to that moment in his past, he saw his parents' bright and vibrant forms fall and a small part of himself died along with them. He should have grabbed them and yanked them down from the ladder. He should have made sure they never even went close to the performance space.

"But I should have-"

A hand grabbed his chin and gently raised his head up.

"Robin, you can't change the past, no matter how much you want to," Slade said, gently cutting the boy off. "It's a lesson I learned quite some time ago."

For the first time in the boy's life, Robin saw his own pain reflected in the eye of another. For the first time, he saw a pain that cut so deep, it shattered the very aura of the strong, invincible man and left behind something the boy thought he would never see in Slade. The man had been…

Broken.

Steel gray met a vivid blue.

"They would be proud of you."

The words washed over Robin. His eyes burned with a sudden intensity as he turned from Slade, staring into the cracked and dented wall. His mother's face stared back at him. He heard her laugh. He saw her familiar blue eyes. He smelled the lavender that wafted off her skin.

Robin felt a warm hand grab his own, and he looked down as a thin piece of fabric was pressed into it.

What do you want, Slade?

Take a guess.

The memory brushed past his mind as he recalled the other object the man had given him only a few days ago.

A different object.

A different man.

But still no answer.

Robin glanced down at the mask that for years he had barricaded these feelings behind. As he stared at the black and white object, a tender warmth traveled through him. It was a sensation he hadn't felt in some time. It wound its way through him and spread into his heart, recalling the treasured moments he had created with his parents and pushing them to the forefront of his mind. Suddenly it clicked.

They would be proud of him.

The mask represented everything he had built over the years. He fought for justice. He fought for love. He fought for life. Within himself, he knew that no matter what would happen, his parents would be proud of him.

It had just taken someone else's words for him to truly believe it.

Robin pressed the domino mask back up against his face and turned to face Slade again. A look flashed over the man's face before it settled back into its usual blank mask-like expression.

A light silence hung in the air as the boy stood face to face with the one man he still grappled to understand – the one man who grew more and more confusing with each layer that unraveled. He still didn't know what Slade wanted from him. He still didn't fully understand why the masked man had helped him. And he still didn't know how everything would end.

But that was okay.

For once Robin didn't feel the need to live five steps ahead of himself. He didn't feel the need to overanalyze every detail of the past 24 hours. He didn't feel the need to cling onto the crumbling pieces of his life around him. The only thing he needed were answers.

Why had Slade tried to kill Batman?

What exactly was the Joker doing?

And just what the heck were they going to do now?

Robin exhaled a deep breath as he looked up at the man before him.

Just what were they going to do now…

It was a question that the boy didn't even know if Slade could answer.

"You're going to need to fix a lot more than just a creaky door now," the boy quipped with an unsteady smirk on his face.

Slade rubbed his chin as his eyes followed Robin's line of sight to the large hole in the wall and the pieces of dry wall that were scattered around. The damage was not a severe as he had originally anticipated. In fact, Slade had done worse destruction to his room when he had one of his infamous fits of rage. Wintergreen had learned to stay very far away during these bouts and let Slade cool down before approaching. It would explain the man's mysterious absence during this entire meltdown.

Slade shrugged. "Nothing Will can't handle. I've done worse."

"Not going to be very happy."

"Is he ever?"

As if on cue, the door swung open as the man himself appeared.

"Slade Wilson I've told you a million times! Destroying your room is not a healthy way of coping with…"

The man trailed off as his eyes took stock of the room and caught sight of Robin in the middle of it.

"…stress…"

His eyes darted from Slade to Robin to the large dent in the wall. With each look, the frown on his face grew deeper and darker until finally it settled on Slade.

Slade resisted the urge to sigh as he clearly recognized the look Wintergreen was giving him. He had seen it on the older man's face many times in his life, and Slade could count on one hand the number of times their following conversation had ended well.

"Slade Wilson if you-"

"Will, calm down, I didn't-"

Wintergreen whipped his head around, practically ignoring the man's response and wagged his finger at Robin.

"Did Slade hurt you?"

A sly smile cracked on the boy's face as he shook his head. "No, Wintergreen, we're fine."

The old man crinkled his nose and swung his head back to Slade. Although clearly unsatisfied with Robin's response, he eventually accepted it with a loud huff and took a step back into the hallway.

"Well, there's coffee in the kitchen Robin if you'd like any. I'm sure you'll need the energy after last night. I'm glad to see you up and about," the shorter man said with a warm smile as he gazed at the small boy. A light flush appeared on Robin's cheeks as Wintergreen turned away. But before the man left, he paused, the smile dropping off his face and gave Slade a long, hard stare. Slade frowned and held up his hands, clearly in a sign of innocence to the older man.

Wintergreen crinkled his nose. "Well, if you expect me to clean this mess up, you're dumber than I thought." With a dramatic spin, he marched back into the kitchen, leaving behind a trail of unpleasant words.

Slade's mouth twitched as a light glimmer entered his gray eye. Perhaps he could now add another hand to the conversation tally.

"That means he will."

"Highly doubt it, Slade," Robin replied evenly.

"One can hope," the man responded as he turned to face Robin and jerked his head at the door.

"Coffee?"

Robin cocked his head to the side.

"Explanations?"

"Of course," Slade replied with a quick glance behind him, "But it's four in the morning. I have a crushing headache. I haven't slept in the past twenty hours and I doubt you'd let me go back to sleep now," the man continued as he arched an eyebrow at the boy. Robin's expression spoke volumes to the man.

The boy needed answers.

And he needed them now.

Looks like sleep would have to wait.

The strong smell of coffee wafted its way into the air, wrapping itself around the pair.

"So, I figure for your safety it would be better if I explain things with a little caffeine in my system."

Slade watched as the boy simply nodded. His small form looked even smaller in the dim room, and Slade couldn't help but wonder how he ever learned to survive the streets of Gotham. The boy was strong. Stronger than Slade ever was at that age. There was a deep resilience to Robin that he admired – it was one of the qualities that had caught his attention when he had been scouting for an apprentice.

The boy's eyes spoke more about Robin's character than the mask ever had. They were strong, filled with a sense of freedom and hope for the world and had exposed a depth of pain that Slade himself had felt.

There was an undercurrent of trust between the pair now. Each had witnessed a glimmer of the other's past and both knew that with that knowledge came a great power.

But the masked man had meant what he said. Nobody should have the privacy of their true life taken away like he had. People wore masks for a reason, and the man would like to keep it that way.

I've done everything you've said and look where it's gotten me.

The words echoed in Slade's head. A chilling response crept into the man's mind as he gazed at the small form in front of him.

Almost dead…

A different boy.

A different time.

Slade felt the memory run through his head as he turned around. He would not let the past repeat itself. He would not let old mistakes define his future. He would not let Slade Wilson lose this fight.

This time it would be different.

This time his past wouldn't win.

The man turned and walked away. For once, the future was out of his hands. They were heading into territory that even with all his cunning foresight and abilities, he had never predicted. All he could do was turn around, walk to the kitchen and hopefully give the boy the answers he desperately needed.

That and drink some coffee.

I've done everything you've said and look where it's gotten me.

The words hummed in his mind as he sat down at the table and stared at the steaming mug that Wintergreen set down in front of him.

The man really needed some coffee.

A/N: The next chapter will be more content and plot driven and will hopefully answer a lot of questions. It's going to take the story to where I've been planning on going with it...so i'm a little worried as it's an interesting twist, but we will see how it goes!

So until next time, thank you so much for reading and I hope you enjoyed it!