A/N: Hello all - back again! Thank you for the reviews and thoughts on the last chapter. Always glad to have feedback and motivation!
With that, enjoy!
Chapter 32
Through the Gloom
In hindsight, Slade realized he had messed up the moment he saw the look of horror that had filled Robin's eyes.
Wintergreen's reaction only served to confirm this fact.
"You did what now?"
Seconds later, Slade found himself standing outside the teenager's locked door, unsure of how to proceed. He had debated perhaps just leaving the boy alone to cool off and settle the cascade of thoughts by himself. And after making a few unanswered pleas for Robin to open the door, Slade did just that and left...for a few minutes.
Impatience won out in the end. Slade figured a few minutes was long enough for Robin to come to his senses. The man needed to explain himself. He couldn't let the fragile trust the two had constructed over the past days to self-destruct because of his own carelessness. He should have eased Robin into the situation – talked to him first and explained his thinking, instead of allowing the boy to jump to his own rash and probably wrong conclusions. The boy had figured out Slade's intentions far faster than anticipated and Robin ran – literally ran – with his own conclusions.
So Slade broke down the door.
That had been the easy part.
The hard part was now in front of him – in the shape of one very pissed off boy.
"You didn't think I'd give up that easily, did you?"
"Yes, in fact I did," the boy muttered as he retreated away from the imposing figure.
"Seems you don't know me as well as you thought."
Robin threw up his hands, attempting to ward the man off.
"Slade – "
Unlike last time, Slade didn't stop. Robin's chest tightened with a painful sensation as the figure stalked toward him. A powerful hand wrapped around his wrist and lowered it to the ground.
"We need to talk."
Robin stared down at his bare feet as Slade's presence towered above him, draining the air out of the room. The boy's breathing rose and fell in unsteady waves.
"You – you – why would you – "
Questions burned in Robin's mind, but remained trapped within his throat. The boy tried to move around Slade and escape the suffocating aura of the thick and dense air. With every breath, he found it harder to pull the wisps of oxygen into his lungs.
Like an unwelcome shadow, Slade mirrored the movement, blocking his way.
"If you would let me explain – "
"Explain what?" the boy shouted as he tried to shove the man away from him. His hand connected with Slade's chest and heaved against the brick wall, trying to break past the immovable force. Another hand wrapped around his wrist.
The claw-like grip dwarfed his small wrist in a gentle hold. The boy wrenched backwards, only to find Slade moving with him, unrelenting in his control. He couldn't break free. He couldn't escape the specter in front of him. Drums pounded in his ears as Robin imagined the man dragging him out of the room, heaving him down the dark stairs, and throwing him in front of those taunting weapons.
"Stop. Slade, stop – " His muffled cry was drowned out by a sob that broke through his lips.
Why was Slade doing this to him?
He had trusted the man.
What had happened?
What had changed?
The man stilled, but did not release his grip. The hands were like chains on Robin's soul, keeping him tethered to a reality he desperately wanted to escape. The hold on his arms tightened, and as his back smacked into the wall, Robin realized there was no leaving this time around.
He wrenched his head away as tears scorched his eyes. The bed clouded over with hazy vision as he stared, refusing to let the droplets break free.
"Calm down."
The words wafted over him, but Robin felt little comfort from the dismal syllables. He pushed against the powerful hold again, and felt his back lift off the wall.
"Let me go," the boy grunted with a dark growl. His heart thumped in his chest as he tried to ward off the menace pinning him in place.
Smack.
His back collided into the wall as Slade stepped forward, easily thwarting his futile attempt to break free. Robin's wrists hovered in front of his eyes as he stared at the hands holding him in place. These were the hands of a criminal – of someone who knew how to kill without mercy.
How many times had Slade shot a gun?
"Let me go," Robin whispered as the click of a trigger rang in his ears.
How many people had he killed?
He looked up and saw the gray eye furrowing its way into him. Cold words echoed in the boy's mind, drowning out his last dredges of sanity.
We kill the clone…
Was he going to make Robin do the same now?
"Let me go," the boy screamed the words, tearing them from his throat. With a renewed vigor, he violently shoved the man back, gaining enough room so that he could shift his momentum backwards and shatter Slade's grip on his wrists. Robin dashed around the man who, momentarily caught off balance, left a small opening to the doorway.
His foot landed on the edge of the toppled over dresser, and the boy was about to propel himself over the object when a hand latched around his arm.
The boy cried out in surprise as he was yanked back and sent tumbling into the room. His shoulder slammed into the edge of the bed post, and the room spun as his vision settled on the imposing figure silhouetted against the light from the hallway. Slade's outline blurred into a shadowy nightmare.
"Calm down, now."
The command rushed over the boy's head as Robin looked around wildly, digging his nails into the bedframe.
"You were going to make me – "
His voice broke off, cracking with pain. The boy heaved against the emotions racketing through his body and stumbled back, using the bedframe as his only crutch of support.
"I wasn't going to make you do anything you didn't want to do, Robin," Slade responded evenly.
The man's presence fell over him like a knife.
"But you were," the boy yelled, "You were going to make me shoot – sh-shoot…"
Robin squeezed his eyes closed as the word caught in his throat, panic disintegrating any ounce of control he had tried to maintain.
"Let me explain."
Slade's words were short and clipped.
"I don't need you to."
Two hands suddenly latched onto his shirt and yanked him forward.
"Why must you always act like a stubborn, little boy?!" the man roared.
Robin cried out, trying to back away from the ravenous figure. Slade's anger had flared so suddenly, the boy was left with panic pounding through his body. He ducked his head as the hands squeezed into the fabric of his shirt, further constricting the material around him. His toes brushed on the ground.
A dead silence hung in the air, and with a sharp inhale, Robin shattered it.
"Because you made me terrified," the boy whispered, "of betraying the one person who I owe the most to in the world."
He lifted his eyes as hot tears seeped down his face.
"And I can't do that, Slade."
His words shook.
His mind was numb.
His blue eyes swirled with a deep pain.
Slade's hands slackened in their hold, and Robin's feet thudded on the ground. The man stared at him, allowing the words to permeate through the room.
"So that's what this whole thing is about," the man mused as a light glint entered his eye, "Batman and his ridiculous rules."
"They're not ridiculous," Robin growled, but even he could hear the notes of hesitation in his tone. Batman had always done what was best. The man had always known what was right and what was wrong, and Robin had always blindly followed, never debating, never questioning, and never second-guessing….until now.
The boy pushed the man away as he turned around, leaning against the wall. Slade's next words found him there, lost among Robin's own personal sea of fears.
"Robin, we're going into a fight that will be riddled with guns." Slade's voice dropped any hint of anger as he continued, "I at least want to teach you how to handle one."
The wall burned against the boy's shoulder.
"Which goes against everything Batman has ever taught me, Slade," he countered.
Slade shook his head. "No, it doesn't."
"Yes, it does."
"Didn't Batman always harp on and on about understanding your enemy, Robin?"
The unwelcome answer blared in his mind.
Yes.
But Slade didn't need to know that.
The boy whirled around.
"He – "
"So in order to understand your enemies, you should understand the weapons they use," the man continued while fixing Robin under his steady gaze.
The boy tried to block out the words and deny the subtle logic that shifted through them. This was not what Batman would have wanted. This was what Slade wanted. The man was simply doing what he did best – twisting every situation, every action, and every word to his advantage.
"And Robin…"
A stitch of a warning cut through the boy.
"I'm sure you could tell me from experience that the Joker just loves guns."
His stomach heaved inside of him as his body clenched with an icy fire. The boy's voice carried a hard edge to it now. "You have no right –
"What," Slade said as a wicked gleam suddenly appeared in his eye, seeping into his words, "to talk about your past? You love to talk about mine, so let's talk about yours."
Robin squeezed his hands together.
"No."
His voice cracked.
The man allowed a few moments to pass in shaky silence. Robin felt the gray eye hovering over him, but he refused to face the man. He refused to face the memories of his past, lingering under the surface of his calm facade. The darkness of the room crept around him.
"How many times did the Joker shoot you because Batman failed to protect you?" Slade asked. The man inquired so casually, someone could have assumed he'd simply been asking about the weather, yet within the calm waves of the voice, there was a subtle tinge of pain Robin failed to notice.
"Shut up," Robin spat, grinding out the words between his teeth. Even Batman had learned a long time ago to never bring up the horrors of the Joker. It was a topic which never ended well between the pair.
"Why should I?" Slade yelled. "The man didn't have the guts to dispose of the psychopath himself – "
Robin slammed his eyes closed as the haunting memories rushed back to the surface of his thoughts. The laughter – that sick, twisted, demented laughter drowned out all the sound around him.
" – and you're the one who suffered because of it."
Gunshots echoed in his mind.
"Shut up!"
The laughter only grew louder, rising around him and caging him inside the dark memories. A breath tore through Robin's lips as he tried to force away the images from his consciousness, burying them back inside of himself. It was within this malicious cackle, the Joker's voice found him.
Bang, bang and you're dead Birdie Boy.
"STOP."
Robin screamed as his eyes flashed with a blood red smile, psychotic, green eyes and chalky, white skin – the nightmarish face of the Joker. He rammed his way forward, barreling his way to the door to outrun the terrorizing memories engulfing his mind and the haunting laughter licking his heels.
Before he could go any further, two strong arms locked around him.
"STOP," the boy shouted breathlessly as he kicked and clawed, trying to break through the man's hold.
"I will not stop, Robin," Slade said with a grunt as the boy thrashed forward, "Until you calm down and talk to me." His words dropped into the air with a whip cord strength, slicing through Robin's actions like a knife.
The boy's panic flared and sunk as Slade's words sailed over him, but all Robin could comprehend was the Joker's voice whispering in his ears.
Have you ever felt pain before, birdie boy?
"Is everything, alright?"
I mean real pain…
Wintergreen appeared at the door, and a twinge of hope raced through Robin as his mind spun with the pieces of the memories around him.
The type of pain that splinters your cute, little bones…
"NO – "
Slade's smooth words drowned out Robin's protests.
"It's fine, Will. I'm handling this."
"Odd way of handling it."
Into millions of tiny flecks…
A scream seared Robin's throat as he wrenched against Slade's arms, driving himself down and forward. Instead of releasing him, Slade easily balanced out the sudden force, and Robin found himself stuck, without any movement, still trapped in the iron-like arms and still imprisoned within the confines of his mind.
He was vaguely aware of the conversation around him, but once he realized Wintergreen was unlikely to offer him any help, the boy turned his attention back to finding a way out of the constricting grip. He pounded his fists against the solid arms, but without any momentum behind the action, they inflicted little if any pain. Robin looked down but could only see the pasty, white claws of a different villain.
And leaves all this blood…
Slade huffed and with a strained voice replied, "Just trying to help him calm down, Will."
Robin looked up but could only see Bruce's bruised and battered face staring back at him.
That even your precious Batman can't clean up…
"If you say so, Slade."
"NO – "
But Wintergreen's warm presence was already gone, leaving the room in a chilling cold.
"Calm down, Robin."
"Let me go," the boy sobbed as he tried to pry the sickening hands away from him. The Joker was everywhere now. The face was all around him, suffocating him into the nightmares of his childhood.
"I will when you calm down."
Batman's face appeared again, and the man reached out to him, amongst the tidal wave of his insanity.
Find peace…
The Caped Crusader had said those words a long time ago to him after one particularly gruesome night in Gotham.
Find peace and you'll be calm…
Screams. Laughter. Gunshots.
There was no peace here.
Robin threw his elbow up and slammed it hard into the man's jaw. The strength in the arms immediately slackened, and Robin broke free as Slade stumbled back, swearing.
The Joker's dark laughter rang in his ears.
Guilt rushed through Robin, but he pushed the feeling away, unwilling to consider his action further. He turned, racing to the open doorway and launched himself over the wooden dresser and into the hallway.
You can run all you want Birdie Boy…
Slade was probably pissed.
"ROBIN."
But you'll never be able to hide…
The word thundered, and the boy sprinted with the unholy fear of the ravenous being behind him.
Slade was definitely pissed.
Robin rounded the corner and slid a few feet into the kitchen. He stumbled slightly but chalked it up to his lack of shoes. Out of the peripheral vision he watched as Slade drummed down the hall after him. He would have a few seconds to make a break for it. Hopefully, he could make it into the haunt before Slade caught up with him.
…from me…
"Ooof."
The boy landed with a loud smack on the ground. His thoughts shattered into pieces around him. The impact of the fall reverberated through him, shocking him out of his musings and tearing apart the memories that had threatened to consume his mind.
Robin practically screamed a curse as he hastily tried getting up, which only resulted in him slipping and sliding to the ground once more. He lifted his hands to eye level as a slick, thick liquid slid down his palms. His eyes dashed around the room, suddenly aware the greasy substance was everywhere.
A thoughtful hum blared in his ears.
"Hmm must have used too much."
Robin's eyes flashed over to the devious man who was currently heavily invested in reading the back of the bottle of floor cleaner in his hands. In that moment, Robin readily believed he could have killed Wintergreen as his few precious seconds to escape slipped away from him.
"ROBIN."
The anger in the deafening roar caused the boy's heart to still in his chest. Wintergreen abruptly looked up as the ghost of a smile touched his lips, and realization struck the boy as he turned in time to see Slade rounding the corner with a wicked fast speed and determination. The man's foot hit the slippery ground, and Robin opened his mouth to issue a warning, but it was seconds too late. Slade's eye widened as his feet continued moving forward without any resistance or traction, and the man's momentum shoved him downward, sending Slade's form sprawling on the ground.
Robin had little doubt left that any chance of reasoning with the man now was long gone. The anger was practically palpable in the small space.
Slade was still for a few moments. The man then slowly lifted his palm off the floor, gazing at the liquid dripping off his hand. As a droplet thudded on the ground, Slade's eye blazed with an eternal fire.
"WILL."
"Oh sorry, Slade," Wintergreen drawled as he leaned over the counter to look down at the man, "I spilled an entire bottle of olive oil on the floor, and I was just trying to get it up with some cleaner."
The words were so innocent, but Robin could see the devilish gleam in the older man's eyes.
"Must you clean every forsaken floor in this damn place," Slade hissed as he violently pushed his chest off the ground.
Wintergreen hummed again as if finally understanding the devastation he had wrought with his 'cleaning' methods. "Let me go see if I can find something to fix this," the man hummed. With an artful ease, he seemed to glide over the treacherous floors and disappeared from the room.
Robin was about to comment on Wintergreen's uncanny ability to traverse the slick floors when he realized the man's disappearance would leave him with no defense against a very mad and very pissed off Slade.
"I'm going to kill him."
Slade pushed himself up – only to have his foot fly out from underneath him once more. The man thudded on the floor, and the momentum sent him sliding across the ground and into the base of the kitchen cabinets.
Robin watched as the once terrifying villain slipped and slid like a toddler trying to walk for the first time. He couldn't help the nervous chuckle that escaped his lips. As out of control everything was around him, the boy had to admit to himself that the sight was slightly humorous.
Slade's face swung toward him with a pure, unadulterated fury etched into every line and wrinkle.
"Oh, don't worry," the man hissed, "After I'm done with Will, you're next."
Robin's laughter immediately died on his lips, but he couldn't prevent the light smirk that crept onto his face. Slade's threat might once have terrified him into blind submission, but as he gazed at the man now, he couldn't place any validity behind the words.
The boy huffed in response as a smile licked at his face. This reminded him of the time Beast Boy had created a massive slide by dumping a gooey substance on a tarp through the halls of the Tower. It had taken days to clean up the mess, but it had been worth every agonizing second.
He dropped his head back onto the ground as the sludge of the cleaner bit into his skin.
Just how much had Wintergreen put on these blasted floors?
The boy dragged his hands through the liquid and slid his palms underneath his chin. His eyes focused on the droplets beading on his fingertips. He drummed his fingers, watching as the droplets morphed together and trickled off his hand.
"Wintergreen sure has his ways to diffuse an argument," Robin muttered, more or less to himself. In fact, he was simply testing the waters with the man, gauging the residual levels of anger with care.
"It would appear so," Slade mused as he rubbed the edge of his jaw. A prick of guilt drilled inside of the boy as he saw the beginnings of a faint bruise appearing.
"Sorry 'bout that…" Robin muttered, dropping his eyes back to the ground.
"Must you always make things so," Slade paused as he gestured around, "difficult."
The world seemed to slow as Robin's hands tightened into fists underneath him. The gooey liquid congealed within his palms into a soft blob. With his shaky arms, he heaved himself off the ground so that he could swing his legs around and bring them to his chest. He dug his head between his knees as time brushed over his shoulders, pulling him backwards. A whisper escaped his lips.
"Batman never meant for me to get hurt."
The words were the truth, but that didn't make them any less painful. His hand slid through the murk on the floor.
"The Joker was just, I don't know, fascinated with destroying me." Robin forced the villains face from his mind as he grounded himself on the feeling of the sludge underneath his hands. "Every time Batman and I ran into him, I always left with some wound." The boy stilled in his movements, his hand hovering over the ground as the past drifted in front of his eyes.
"A bullet that split clean through my shoulder. A cut that ran too close to my organ. A baseball bat that knocked too hard into my head."
Robin blinked, rubbing his hands on the ground as the images cleared.
"Batman tried to keep me out of it," he continued while digging his head further into his arms. The past crawled around him – a cold wedge of truth in the motionlessness between the pair.
He remembered Batman's eyes when he had followed the Caped Crusader. He remembered the deep fury that had gazed back at his small form. He remembered how quickly the fury had shifted into concern, and how quickly the concern had morphed into fear.
Robin looked down at his hands.
He remembered the blood.
A long breath ran through his lips, exhaling his bleeding pain.
"All of it was my fault. Every injury. Every wound. He always tried to keep me away," Robin said as he faced Slade, "but I never listened."
He rubbed the oily liquid between his fingers, feeling it slide down his palms.
"Batman wanted to bench me – to protect me," the boy whispered, "I just wouldn't let him."
The fluorescent lightning blared down on his back.
"So I left."
Slade's gray eye softened before he shook his head. "You were a kid. He should have done more to protect you."
"He did what he could," Robin muttered, but he couldn't stop the bitterness that tinged his lips.
The man reached out, grabbing the edge of the countertop and heaved himself up. He took a step forward, skillfully maintaining his balance and homed in on the boy. "But you were the one," Slade snapped as anger dripped into his words, "not him, who paid the price for the ridiculous rules. He should have at least taught you – "
"He did!" Robin yelled as he shoved himself off the floor. The boy muttered a curse as his feet slipped.
Slade's response blazed in the air.
"Clearly, not enough," the man said as he advanced on the boy. Footsteps smacked on the ground. His feet pressed down with slow, measured steps, parting a way through the slick floors.
Robin huffed as he managed to stumble to his feet, flailing his arms out to his sides. The soles of his feet skidded on the ground, carrying him backwards.
"I survived," the boy growled.
Slade scoffed, "Barely."
"Just SHUT UP– " Robin's harsh words were cut off in a shout of panic as his feet slipped, sending him spiraling to the ground. The boy swore as his impending doom flashed before his eyes, and the floors rushed up to his face.
The world spun.
Robin furiously blinked as powerful hands yanked his shoulders up and around, swinging his momentum forward. His feet skated across the floor as Slade redirected his flailing movement into an artful recovery, swinging the pair to an uneasy stop. The boy's feet began to slide again, and Slade immediately steadied him, maintaining a forceful hold that defied the treachery of the oily floors. The man stood in front of him like an iron, unbreakable statue.
A long exhale bled through Robin's lips, and he felt his body sag and shrink under the weight of the simple action as layers and layers of pain peeled back. Haunting, green eyes rose in his mind as the whisper of the Joker's laughter wormed its way through him. He latched onto Slade's arms, squeezing them like anchors to keep himself from drowning in his thoughts again.
"I was lucky, Slade," Robin murmured. The world was spinning out of his control, slipping and sliding like the droplets of oil on the ground. His voice, like his mind, was hollow.
"In a fight like this, there is no luck."
Cold words stabbed into him as the grips on his shoulder's tightened. Robin stared at the ground, trying to escape the omnipotent presence in front of him. The man always lingered at the edges of his senses, breaking through the cracks of his shattered fortitude and seeping inside of his mind.
A hand grabbed his chin, and Robin was too exhausted to fight against the force. The boy lifted his eyes to face the strange figure in front of him. Slade stared at him with a ravenous intensity, practically glowing from the frustration burning through his body. His next words hummed in the air, and Robin could feel the vibrations from the syllables wash over his arms.
"Ignorance will get you killed."
The familiar tendrils of fear closed in around him, driving into his stomach and searing in the unwelcome yet unimpeded feeling of desolation. The boy tried to turn, to physically shove Slade's words from every inch of his being. Instead he found his feet flailing on the ground once more.
Slade's steady hands gripped his arms, pulling the boy forward and upright again.
A deep tiredness washed through Robin, sinking in and latching onto every bone in his body. The blazing anger was gone and in its place, was a drowning sense of defeat. The boy felt his thin walls of strength crumbling down around him.
Robin was locked in place. He couldn't run as he would just end up slipping and flailing again. If he moved slowly, Slade would simply drag him back. He was stuck, and every centimeter of his soul ached with an unfathomable pain.
Where was his mask when he truly needed it?
"I won't fight with a gun, Slade."
The reassuring hands lightened their grip as if suddenly fearing their weight would shatter the broken boy.
"I don't kill."
The words sliced through Robin, but instead of blood, tears rained down his face.
"I'm not asking you to," Slade responded as he dropped his hands from Robin's shoulders. A long sigh drained from his lips.
"I simply want you to understand the weapon the enemy will be using against you," the man continued.
Could he really do it?
The thought hammered in his head as Robin faced the man in front of him.
"You said you trusted me, Robin."
Could he really fire a gun?
The boy squeezed his eyes shut, trying to let the sudden tension ease its way through him. His mask-less face should be enough of an answer for the man.
"I do," Robin replied. There was a profound honesty etched between the words. Even though the man could be unpredictable, wickedly violent, and harshly determined, Robin still found strings of trust wrapped around Slade – strings that held firm, no matter how badly Robin wanted them to snap.
"Then trust me with this," the man continued. There was a softness to his tone that Robin hadn't heard before. It reminded him of the photo he had seen of a much younger Slade – the photo of a man who had been happy and content with life, the photo of a man who hadn't been broken by the travesties of the world. It made him pause.
"I can't."
The words stung his mouth.
"Why?"
Why?
The man was always wanting to know why.
Robin shook.
"Because I can't kill. I can't fire a gun, and I can't take another person's life," the boy said as his mouth grew dry.
"Even if it's just a clone," he finished with a whisper.
And that was the heart of Robin's fear, laid down in front of the man who could materialize them into a reality.
"Is that what you thought my intentions were?" Slade said. Any trace of softness vanished and instead the man moved forward and reached out to grab the boy. "You think I brought you down there to train you to kill Batman's clone?"
"Well when you say we should kill the clone and then you show me a wall of guns, what the hell else am I supposed to think?"
"Robin – "
The boy wrenched away, fighting back the reflexive tears that flared in his eyes. He threw his arms out, steadying his body against the harsh movement as his feet slid. The click of a trigger blared through his mind.
"I can't do it, Slade," Robin snapped as the terror finally hurled from his lips, "I can't kill the clone."
Slade seized his arm, but Robin kept his back firmly to the man.
"You won't have to – "
"I won't let you either," the boy said, suddenly whirling around. His feet ghosted forward, closing the gap between the pair. "Because a part of it still has to be Batman."
Robin's eyes flickered shut.
A part of it still had to be Bruce.
No matter how many times the boy spun it in his head, a piece of Bruce was always going to end up dead if they killed the clone. It didn't matter if it were a creature created by the Joker. Some part of the clone Robin believed– no matter how small – was still Bruce.
"It's not like a human being, Robin," Slade replied, snapping his hand through the air.
"How do you know that?" Robin yelled as pain singed his lips, "How can you be sure?"
Slade stalked toward him, and Robin stumbled back as the man's hand cut into his arm with a deathly, tight grip.
"Because if that creature had any ounce of the real Batman's bravery, loyalty, determination or strength, it would have never shot you," the man roared, shoving Robin back. They glided across the floor, and Robin slammed into the base of the cabinet. The sting of a bullet touched his thigh muscle as he gazed at where a gaping hole should have been. He pressed his hands against the cold countertop, grounding his reality within the marble.
"You're asking me to cross a line I swore I never would," the boy replied as a steely energy sparked into his words.
He was pushed harder into the smooth surface, and it bit into his skin.
"I'm asking you to learn to defend yourself – to stay alive," the man retorted with a fiery intensity.
"I can't do that – "
"Yes, you can."
"Slade – "
The man threw up his arms, turning away. He leaned up against the counter opposite from Robin and clenched his hands around a glass.
"Why do you continue to choose to follow Batman's pointless rules? Even after everything that happened!"
"They're not pointless."
"Well, they certainly didn't protect you from the Joker."
"Nothing and nobody could have. I was young and stupid – "
Slade's hand arched in the air as he flung the glass, cutting Robin off mid-sentence. It hit the wall with a wicked crash as the man whipped around. Glass shards rained on the ground. "That doesn't excuse the Bats from forbidding you to learn about the very weapons people will be trying to kill you with," the man yelled.
"JUST shut up!" Robin screamed, pulling his hair with his hands. He doubled over, trying to push the man's words from his mind.
"No, I will not shut up," Slade snapped. He was there again, hovering over the boy. "I will not let you get killed because of the Bat's ineptitude with your training! And I will not let you die because I didn't prepare you to face the magnitude of threats just waiting to kill you."
Robin remained curled over himself, resisting Slade's attempts to pull him upright.
"Leave me alone."
Slade swore.
"What are you so afraid of?"
The boy turned his head as he kicked Slade back away from him. His hands heaved against the countertop in a desperate attempt to maintain his balance.
"Drop it, Slade," Robin spat.
"Has the Joker scared you away from guns forever?"
The inky voice dipped into his mind.
"I said, drop it– "
"Or are you worried the Bats would never forgive you?" the man asked, advancing again.
"No he would – just agh – "
"Then answer my question," the man hissed.
Robin leaned over the counter as a ragged breath skated through his lips. His head pounded.
"Shut up."
"No," Slade's voice was just behind him now. The hands clamped down over his shoulders again, and Robin felt his body seize up in fear.
"You will answer me."
The dark words washed over him as the hands tried to pull him backwards. Robin latched his grip under the edge of the countertop and tightened against the force, refusing to confront the man.
"NO," the boy yelled, curling in on himself.
The fingers dug into his shoulders.
"Answer me."
The words were dead and cold, void of any trace of warmth. They hung over Robin like a darkening beacon, hunting him into submission. His arms shook, weakening with every passing second. One by one Robin felt his fingers slip, as sweat began to flake down his hands.
"NO – "
A sudden force wrenched him backwards, and Robin cried out as the pair was sent flying to the ground. The boy rolled forward from the grip, crawling his way out of the space. Oil and grease slipped under his arms as he stumbled to his feet, heaving himself up with the assistance of the cabinets.
The boy lumbered forward, finding himself numb to everything around him. For a few seconds time seemed to tick by in slow motion. Robin felt as if his entire body were moving through muck, dragging him back and sucking him underneath a deadly current of anger and pain. It was within this current Robin believed Slade might actually drop the topic and let him be – leave him to drown alone with his demons.
How badly the boy was mistaken.
"RICHARD."
The single name shattered all illusions of the boy's sanity.
The word roared in Robin's ears, snapping him back to a time when he had argued with another man. It had been years since he had heard that name. It had been an eternity since he had responded to it.
His blue eyes burned.
He found himself turning.
He found himself stepping forward.
He found himself screaming.
"BECAUSE I DON'T WANT TO BECOME YOU."
The words left his throat raw and charred, smoldering in a painful suffocation.
He found himself leaning against the counter and sliding to the floor. Silence wrapped around him as any ounce of energy faded into the abyss of his soul.
Slade knew who he was.
The thought was numbing, but he shouldn't be surprised. Robin had shown the man his face without the mask. He knew this would have happened eventually, but to hear the name – to hear it brought to life before his eyes – only forced a deep feeling of terror through his body.
He looked at his shaking hands as Slade's voice from what felt like a lifetime ago skated across his mind.
We're similar, you and I…
It was true. Robin had begun to realize this over the past days. Slade and he were so eerily alike, it had begun to shred the boy's sanity. The only separation between them was the thin line between a hero and a villain – and even that had started to blur in Robin's mind. So he clutched onto Batman's rules as his last lifeline, as the last hope to keep him from questioning just which side he was truly fighting for.
And now those very rules had been smeared in the sand.
The boy closed his eyes.
He could just leave.
Forget the Joker.
Forget Batman.
Just leave.
Forget the Titans.
Forget Slade.
A sob broke free from his lips as he caved over on himself, and as his mind spun out of control and into the infinity of his desolation. Tears poured from his face onto the ground below him. He clutched his arms, digging his nails into this skin.
Robin was stronger than this.
But Richard Grayson was not.
Out of the darkness a warm arm folded its way across his upper back. It snaked around him, tugging him tightly. The boy stilled at the touch, stiffening. But this time the grip was different. The arm didn't try to move him away. It just rested there like an anchor against the waves of chaos racketing over his body.
"You won't."
The two words reverberated in his mind, riding the sullen waves. Robin slowed his breathing, gaining control over his emotions. The arm squeezed him, radiating a deep strength Robin hadn't felt since – since –
Bruce.
"And you never will."
The boy sunk, pulling on his hair and threading it through his shaky fingers. Thin strands brushed over his palms as his breathing hissed between his teeth.
"I won't – kill – "
"I know."
The words were smooth, parting the waves through his mind with a gentle ripple and forcing the tears to slow. A hand slipped under his chin and lifted his head. The boy's eyes were rimmed with a deep, inky red as Slade pulled his face from the depths of his sorrow. Droplets of tears rolled off Robin's cheeks and onto the strong hand.
Drip.
Drip.
"This," the man said as a painful light entered his eye, "this is understanding, from one human being – "
"To another," Robin whispered finishing the sentence.
A tidal wave of emotion plunged the boy under water. They were the same words he had said to the man only hours before, but they carried a fatal weight to them now. The words anchored around the strings of trust Robin felt growing toward the man.
Slade dropped the boy's chin and withdrew his arm, looking away. Their shoulders pressed against each other as a silence fell into the room.
"Do you trust me…Richard?"
As the words rolled off Slade's lips, the boy flashed his eyes closed. The tears intensified, scorching his cheeks. The name pierced straight through the mindless facades he had built over the years, stripped away any layer of defense he had forged, and ripped apart the last dredges of Robin's shields. The boy heaved in an unsteady breath as he wrenched his head above the drowning currents of pain.
"Yes."
The man stood, rising off the ground.
A hand appeared in front of Robin's eyes.
How many times had Slade shot a gun?
"Then show me."
How many people had he killed?
The world descended upon the boy, spinning around and trapping him within the claws of agony. He gazed at the hand, willing the tears to stop dripping from his eyes as the choice remained waiting, motionless in the air.
The boy would never know the answers to his questions, but as he looked up at the man in front of him, he decided that was –
"Okay."
Every wave in his mind collided into a single sentence. As he uttered the words that would forever leave his world tinged in gray, Richard Grayson reached out and grabbed the hand.
"I'll let you teach me."
A/N: *exhales loudly*
Well! This chapter was a beast to write for some reason. It went through ten drafts of cutting and pasting, hammering down the backspace key and deleting - lots of deleting. Sometimes my brain just writes a mess, and I go back and read it and am like "oh, oh no, this is all wrong."
Ahhh the joys of editing :D
Anyways, hope you liked how it turned out. Let me know! The story will begin to pick up from here.
Thank you for reading! Have a great week, and I'll see ya next update!