Author's Note: New chapter is up! The more I write this, the more I realize it might actually be a full length story... I just love writing the dynamics between all of these characters. I've always wanted to see stories where Robin's a little more messed up after watching his parents die right in front of him, and Slade's a little bit more human and lonely than he's often portrayed; I guess I just feel like we can sometimes overlook the trauma these guys deal with. But that's just my humble opinion. In any case, I'm enjoying writing these characters the way I see them. If they're ever way out of character, let me know. So here's chapter 5, and your guess is as good as mine as to where the heck this story is going. Hope you enjoy, and please review!

William Wintergreen was fast asleep when he felt a cold hand on his shoulder shaking him awake. Groaning, he blearily opened his eyes and turned over to glare at the offender.

Slade. Of course.

"What?" he groaned, snuggling deeper under the covers as a form of protest. "What time issit?"

"Three in the morning. And we're drinking," the man said cooly, easily grabbing the covers and ripping away Wintergreen's source of warmth. Wintergreen glared at him and simply curled up into a tighter ball. Slade raised a brow and smirked. "Right now, Will. There's a need to celebrate, and it can't wait until morning."

Wintergreen woke up a little at that and sat up in bed, rubbing his eyes. He had known Slade long enough to understand that the man wouldn't wake him unless he were truly excited about something. "Robbery went well, I take it?" he asked cautiously, knowing that it couldn't be the true reason for his friend's enthusiasm - if you could call it that. "Got what you needed?"

"Oh, yes, it was easy," Slade said, waving a hand. "And thank you, by the way, for controlling that bot. I presume the conversation with Batman went well."

"Swimmingly," Wintergreen said with a yawn. "I was able to impersonate your charming personality to a tee. I just had to be a major git and he bought it hook, line, and sinker. Was sort of hoping I'd earned a few hours of sleep after that," he added with a glare.

"Don't worry," Slade said drily. "Thanks to you, the bots won't need to be controlled by a human being anymore." The man held up a computer chip between his fingers and smirked. "Welcome to a new age, where the slade-bots can move and fight without you controlling them by remote. You'll be able to sleep through my robberies at long last."

"Thank god," Wintergreen muttered. "That was the only reason I agreed to help you out on this one, you know." He was only partly joking. Slade was his friend, but that didn't mean Wintergreen jumped at the opportunity to help him with a crime. Before this theft, Slade had been forced to do the dirty work on his own, occasionally calling on Wintergreen for help, simply because he had no one else to do it for him; now, the computer chip would help create far more advanced robots, ones that didn't need someone to control them with a remote. In other words, Slade would be able to send machines to steal for him instead of doing it himself. And in turn, that meant he wouldn't need Wintergreen nearly as much. So while Slade had stolen the chip, Wintergreen had been controlling the slade-bot with a remote control, speaking to and fighting Batman to keep the dark knight occupied.

Hopefully, Slade wouldn't need his help in a crime for a good long while.

"Well, I'm glad it went well," he mumbled, grabbing the covers and falling back onto the bed. "G'night."

Slade rolled his eye and ripped the blankets away again. "It's more than just the robbery. Get dressed, Will. I'll meet you in the kitchen." Without another word, Slade strode out of the room.

"Goddammit, Slade," Wintergreen grumbled. "I could kill you for this."

All the same, he didn't hesitate to reach for his glasses.

It took a few minutes, but finally he was able to force his creaking, groaning body out of bed to get changed. Yawning hugely, he shuffled out of the room and into a cold, dark hallway. He wrapped his arms around himself and shivered. Yes, it was true he owed Slade a life debt, and he truly did care about the man, but all the same he couldn't wait to leave this place in a few days and get back to England. Slade's haunts were far too dark and gloomy for his tastes.

When he reached the kitchen, he found Slade sitting comfortably in a loose t-shirt and sweat pants, arms crossed and a bottle of wine sitting in front of him. Two glasses were on the table. The man looked completely impassive, but Wintergreen knew him well enough to see the energy coursing through Slade's body. His friend was very excited about something.

Raising his brows, Wintergreen slowly took the seat across from Slade. "I see you waited to pour," he noted, nodding at the empty glasses.

Slade shrugged and moved to take off the cork. "I'm dramatic that way, I suppose."

"Don't I know it," Wintergreen muttered, crossing his arms. "Honestly, waking me up at three in the morning. This'd better be good, Slade."

"Oh, it is," the man said with a smile; the cork came out with a pop. "But I'll wait until the toast, hm?"

Wintergreen grunted as Slade began to pour. "Merlot, is it?" Slade hummed in agreement; the wine splashed thick and red into each glass. "Pick that up on your way home?"

"I couldn't resist," Slade murmured, putting the bottle down and picking up his glass. "It is a special night, after all."

"Morning," Wintergreen snapped irritably. "It is most definitely morning, which you would know if you had gone to bed at a somewhat reasonable hour like I did."

"Technicality," Slade said with a smirk, and raised his glass.

Sighing tiredly, Wintergreen did the same. "So, what are we toasting to, hm?" he asked drily. "World domination? Your wicked, evil master-mindedness? My incredibly good looks?"

"All good guesses," Slade laughed. "But I'm afraid not." The man's smile widened, and Wintergreen was struck by how happy he looked; Slade almost never looked happy. "We're toasting to my new apprentice."

Wintergreen nearly dropped his glass at that, mouth and eyes widening in shock. "You found one?" he whispered.

"Drink first, Will, drink first," Slade replied, looking very pleased with himself, "And then I'll tell the tale."

Still stunned, Wintergreen took a small sip and then all but slammed the glass down on the table. He leaned forward, his eyes intense. "Tell me. How did this happen, tonight of all nights?"

Slade also put his glass down; his eye was dancing with excitement, and suddenly he was ranting, which Slade simply did not do. "The boy is a prodigy, Will. At first I wasn't sure, he seemed a little green, but I led him on a chase and he was able to keep up. The boy leapt across a city street to pursue me, and for a second I really thought he wouldn't make it, but he didn't disappoint. Managed to use his grappler in a very innovative and risky way. It wouldn't have paid off with anyone other than me, but still, it was impressive. He needs training - his fighting could certainly improve, but for his age it was incredible; the way he moves, like dancing almost. And there's something about him, something that tells me he's not just some innocent little kid trying to play grown-up... Well, he did put a knife in my back, so there's definitely some darkness there -"

Wintergreen raised his hands, a little overwhelmed. "Jesus, Slade, slow down." Slade instantly shut his mouth; the sheer excitement left his face, and he started to look a bit more... Well, Slade-ish.

Wintergreen sighed and rubbed his chin, feeling a little disturbed. Slade just wasn't a happy, excitable person. To see him like this... It was disorienting, to say the least. And while it was true that Wintergreen saw the more human aspects of the man compared to the rest of the world, this level of enthusiasm was almost unheard of when it came to Slade.

"Okay," Wintergreen started slowly. "Okay, let's back up a little bit. This whole apprentice thing started about a year ago, right?" Slade nodded, and Wintergreen took a deep breath. "Right, and you've been looking for that long and haven't found anyone, and then all of a sudden, out of nowhere, this kid just shows up? Who is he? Where did he come from? And for the love of christ, Slade, how in the hell are you so sure that he's the one?"

Slade hesitated and took a swig of wine. Wintergreen narrowed his eyes. "I'm not going to like this, am I?"

Slade sighed. "He's Batman's. The boy is Batman's... I don't know, ward, son, apprentice maybe. But it hardly matters."

There was an ugly silence. Wintergreen gaped at his friend in shock.

"Slade..." he finally whispered, horrified. "Slade, what are you thinking? You can't just steal Batman's boy away from him!"

"Why not?" Slade said, meeting Wintergreen's eye. "He's perfect, Will. I could just tell, when I saw him, that he was the one."

"You could 'just tell?'" Wintergreen said scathingly in disbelief. "Slade, this... This isn't you. I don't understand this at all, but this just is not you. You are the most rational person I know; sometimes I don't think you're even human, the way you can calculate things so efficiently, so easily. But this is insane. You'd be going to war with the dark knight! There are plenty of kids out there who could be your apprentice, plenty who won't be as complicated as this boy."

"But there aren't," Slade said coldly, and Wintergreen instantly shut up at the look on the man's face; he had crossed a line somewhere. "I've looked, Will," Slade continued darkly. "I've tested so many of them for a year now, and they don't measure up. A stream of disappointments. They're slow, or idiotic, or they lack drive and talent. Robin - the boy - he isn't like that. He's -"

"You don't know that, Slade," Wintergreen interrupted with a scowl. "For god's sakes, you've only just met him. He could be just as disappointing as the others. And to make this boy your own, he'd have to choose between you and Batman, whom we can only presume has been taking care of him. What on earth can you offer him that Batman can't?"

"I can satisfy his lust for violence," Slade said shortly. Wintergreen scoffed.

"Right, because Batman is so light and fluffy."

"Batman takes on the appearance of terror, but he doesn't understand it, and he won't understand this boy. Robin wants to hurt people; I don't know why, but he does."

"And how can you tell that?" Wintergreen said tightly.

Slade narrowed his eye. "Because the boy put a blade in my back, and he can't be much older than ten."

Wintergreen rubbed his mouth, troubled. "This is a bad idea, Slade. You should find someone else."

"There is no one else," Slade growled. Wintergreen shook his head.

"You've only been searching for a year, and you've only just met this boy! You're being completely irrational, which I have to admit I never thought I'd have to say to you. There are others, others that are just as good, you just need to look longer, look harder -"

"Will," Slade interrupted softly but intently. "Will, just think about it. Who could be better than the student of Batman himself?"

Wintergreen sighed and shook his head for about the tenth time. He took a massive swig of wine, suddenly grateful for the alcohol. Grimacing, he put the glass down and wiped his mouth. "And how exactly will you get the boy to even consider an apprenticeship? Even if you're right and there is some kind of... Darkness in him, he won't just skip over to your side."

"His identity," Slade said easily. "Once I know his and Batman's true identities, it won't take much to convince him to take a few lessons from me."

"So the big bad plan is to blackmail him?" Wintergreen asked in disbelief. "Slade, that's not exactly going to make him like you."

Slade waved a hand dismissively. "Trust comes later. Right now I just need to get him under my wing."

"And you're confident you can really discover his secret identity? You've only seen him once, after all, and this is Batman we're talking about."

Slade sat back in his seat, looking more relaxed now that Wintergreen wasn't grilling him so harshly. "His costume will give him away. It's like a traffic light; no vigilante would dress up in those flashy colors unless they meant something to him, had something to do with his past. Batman certainly didn't pick his outfit; it's too impractical for fighting crime. The boy couldn't slip through the shadows if he tried with those colors. My guess is he's some kind of performer, circus maybe. Give me a week of researching, maybe two, and I'll figure it out."

Wintergreen opened his mouth, a million more scathing criticisms and questions on the tip of his tongue... And then he saw the look on Slade's face. There was an eagerness there, a happiness that Wintergreen hadn't seen for a long time. In fact, the last time he could remember seeing it was when Slade had brought up the idea of an apprentice for the first time.

And suddenly he was struck by a wave of pity, something he very often felt for his friend. Slade was alone in a way Wintergreen would never understand. The man had lost everyone who had ever been close to him, save one friend, one person who had the very rare privilege of seeing the man behind the monster. And Slade would long outlive Wintergreen, they both knew it; only one of them had the serum for immortality running through his veins. Wintergreen could already see and feel his body deteriorating with age. Slade would never say it, but having an apprentice had nothing to do with passing down his legacy and everything to do with finding lasting companionship. Wintergreen wondered at the time his friend spent down in the dark, alone save for the whirring and clicking of machines and gears. This boy - Robin - it was a terrible idea. He knew, without a doubt, that this would only end in hurt.

Yet his critiques lay quiet and still on the tip of his tongue, and with great effort he finally swallowed them. He poured another glass of wine, but couldn't bring himself to drink from it for a time; his throat was far too tight as he stared at the man who had once saved his life, who now lived in darkness and loneliness and was so desperate for companionship that he was going to steal someone else's child.

He didn't think he would ever see anything else quite so sad.

With some difficulty he coughed and raised his glass. "Well," he said softly, keeping the pity out of his voice. "Well, I don't like it one bit, but here's to your apprentice."

Slade smiled broadly and raised his glass as well, taking a sip. "You'll see, Will," he said confidently, gazing off at nothing. "It'll all work out. You'll see."

"Yes," Wintergreen said softly, and his heart clenched with compassion. "Yes, I suppose we'll see."

After that there were no more words. The two men simply sat in the dim light of the kitchen, occasionally sipping from their wine, as one sat lost in the glory of a dream and the other was consumed with a dread that refused to release it's dark grip on his heart.