A/n: There is a lot of page breaks in this chapter and it's really long, simply because I combined all of my old chapters into one… so the last bit of chapter six will be all new material. And as some of the old readers might tell, some things are different in this chapter…
Oh, and thanks for those of you who reviewed. ;-)
Chapter Five: In This World Around Me
Richard slowly turned his head away from the doctor to hide his moment of weakness. The thick betrayal was spread across his face with a noticeable print. His mentor, the man he looked up to for so long, had thrown him away in a matter of minutes after he had heard of Richard's… disability. After everything they had gone through together. When Bruce took him in after his parents' death, the man had unconsciously stepped in the role of Richard's mentor. In his eyes, Bruce was his new found father… someone who shared his same passions and dark past.
Where would he go from here? Would he go back to the Teen Titans in desperation? Would he be forced back to Bruce even after the act of rejection the man showed? Would he even survive that long?
It didn't matter that Bruce came here to sign the papers, after days of thought and guilt. What mattered was he didn't sign them the moment the papers landed in his hands. What mattered was that he would easily throw away years of bonding and teachings when an accident such as this happened.
What mattered was he dismissed the Robin to his Batman without so much as regret.
A hand brushed through his sweaty locks and he turned his blue eyes toward the doctor. The man had an unreadable expression on his face, no words of comfort came forth, but the hand was enough to show Richard that the doctor tried to offer comfort. Despite the fact that he probably didn't know what the hell went on just now.
Or maybe he did? The man's eyes were full of wise knowledge that Richard had ever seen in someone before. And there was that spark of recognition in Richard when he studied the doctor. The man didn't look familiar, he had pale skin, blue eyes, and a roughly trimmed goatee that looked like it was cut by the man himself with a knife or pair of uneven scissors.
His build looked familiar though; very tall, muscular, and a broad upper body. That only narrowed it down to about a dozen of grown heroes or villains he knew.
Before Richard could ask anything, the man turned and left the room without a word. Richard blinked in confusion and rested his eyes for a moment. He didn't feel as tired as he expected he would after the confrontation with Bruce, but the weariness was still there.
And the raw feeling of betrayal.
The door opened again and Richard snapped his eyes open, watching as the doctor came in with a wheelchair behind him. A small frown settled on his face as he looked at the hospital wheelchair. He hadn't come to terms with his disability yet, and the sight of him so vulnerable made him uncomfortable. Especially in front of the doctor. If Bruce was so intent on losing Richard just because of his paralysis, what was he to think?
He was tempted to ask the man if he could leave for a few moments, but what good would that do? Richard wouldn't be able to do anything himself. He had never been in this situation before, and he never thought it would happen to him.
Just a few weeks ago he was sprinting, climbing, walking, doing flips, and now he was sitting for the rest of his life.
He found the doctor studying him closely with that damn unreadable expression and finally the man stepped closer to Richard.
"We are taking a stroll. Get you used to the wheelchair, and getting you fresh air. The stench in this hospital is getting to me." Richard blinked at the voice, hating himself of drawing a blank of where he had heard it before.
Before he was moved, Richard sat up and glanced suspiciously at the doctor. "What was your name, again?"
"Doctor Wilson." At that he bent down and gathered Richard up in his arms. He was taken fluidly off the bed as if he didn't weigh a thing. The tips of Richard's ears turned red in embarrassment for having to be taken care of like this. He had never been this weak and he hated it. Ever since he was a child he had taken care of himself and he vowed that he would help others, not the other way around.
He was set down in the chair and he looked away from Wilson in self-disgust.
"Well, are you coming?" Richard looked up and saw that Wilson was already at the door, holding it open for him. It would seem that the man wasn't going to push him as he thought the doctor would.
With shaking hands, Richard put them on the wheel and pushed forward. The wheelchair only went about two inches and Richard clenched his teeth together. His arms were weak as a newborn…
This is so awkward.
--PA--
Deathstroke watched as Richard failed to push the chair forward. It was obvious that Richard was feeling weak and uncomfortable with his situation.
No matter, with a little push from Slade, the boy will be used to being in a wheelchair and being paralyzed. Once the sedatives and drugs cleared from Richard's system completely, Slade was sure the boy would figure out that Dr. Wilson was Slade, his 'ultimate enemy'. But Deathstroke was confidant enough that everything would work out smoothly… Richard would have no where to turn but to him.
In time Richard would come to see that Slade was the only one who held on to him when everyone else threw him away like a wasted hero. Robin would come to love the thrill with working beside Deathstroke and the mercenary would fuel that thrill into commitment and dependability.
"Push harder, Richard." The boy looked up at him in a moment of doubt, but followed his advice. With a harder force, the chair steadily came beside him and went out in the hallway.
He witnessed his apprentice's arms shake in resistance from the lack of movement the past few weeks. He knew when Richard got better it would take awhile for him to get back in shape and even longer to get him up to speed.
--PA--
The hallway was empty except the usual nurse or doctor and sometime a patient enjoying a walk down the hall with a member of the nursing staff holding there hand. The boy was well aware of the doctor walking directly behind him, those eerie blue eyes watching him closely. But Richard wasn't paying any attention to that, instead, heavy thoughts were pulling at his mind and his arms were shaking like mad from exhaustion.
He knew the doctor noticed this trembling, but he did nothing to help. Which were both a relief and a confusion matter to Richard. When he watched movies or read books when a character got paralyzed, he had always seen people help that character out as much as possible. Especially the doctor. In fact, even some patients and doctors gave him a pitying look as they swept by. But Wilson just walked behind him, in the same slow pace Richard was going. And for that, Richard had to give some respect toward the man.
Well, it was respect in Richard's world, maybe not for others.
As he passed the main lobby, he caught a glimpse of his reflection in a tall mirror. Just from that quick glance, his stomach churned unpleasantly and he hurried past it. But no matter how hard he tried, he wasn't going anywhere. Looking up, he realized Wilson held the chair in place.
"Wha-,"
"I want you to look at yourself, Richard. You seem to think that you're weak and crippled, but tell me what you see that is different about yourself." Lips frowning, his eyes looked at his reflection. He was thinner, that was the first thing that struck him and he-, "Tel lme, Richard." Breath tickled his ear and Richard tensed his shoulders slightly.
"I-," His voice cracked from disuse. Clearing his throat, he tried again. "I'm thinner." He didn't want to do this. People were looking in his direction but he met there glance head on in the mirror.
"Yes. Go on." He rose his blue eyes in the mirror to meet Wilson's own stoic gaze. Looking away, he continued.
"I'm… paler, my hair is longer and less…" He paused, loss for a word what his hair appeared to be like. It was shaggier and darker with the grease. "I have a scar on my face over my right eye." And that was it. He couldn't see anything else, but Wilson seemed to be patiently waiting. "That's all I see." Richard replied and Wilson nodded, putting his hand on the bony shoulder.
"And in your reflection, what makes you different from everyone else?" Richard's mind came up with the wheelchair, but looking into the mirror, he couldn't see it. It wasn't in his reflection.
"I don't see anything different." He expected the man to deny him that he was wrong, but Wilson's face was incomprehensible.
"That's right. Nothing in your reflection makes you different than anyone else. You or someone else may call you a cripple, but what, besides your wheelchair, makes you different?" He waited for Richard to comment and the boy nodded.
"You're saying that people who aren't in wheelchairs aren't any better than me. We are all the same." Wilson cocked his head to the side and gave a grim smile and nod.
"You may appear the same on the outside, Richard, but you are not all equal." Richard looked complex and frowned at Wilson, wasn't the man just saying that he wasn't different from anyone else?
"I don't understand." A nurse came to a stop beside Wilson. In her hands she held an envelope that had a cursive font on the front, probably addressed to Dr. Wilson. But before she could open her mouth, Wilson shooed her off with a wave of his hand- his eyes never leaving Richard's. The woman's lips pursed but she turned her heel.
"Your reflection is no different from anyone else's, Richard, but you, yourself, are different from everyone else. While people look down at you and put you down, you stay strong. You have gone through something terrible and continued on living, while others would have given up in life. They would've thrown self-pity acts or accepted Bruce's explanation. But you have a strong will, which makes you uniquely stronger than everyone else."
Richard swiveled his head around and met Wilson face to face. "You're saying that I'm stronger than most people are, Doctor Wilson, but what if I told you that I was weak? What if I said that I haven't accepted the fact that I will never run or walk again? What if I told you that I look down upon myself for being in this position?"
The man's face was unreadable once again, but Richard felt a flame of smugness that he got the last word in. That his opinion was the right one, not Doctor Wilson's way. He was weak for being in this position, and nothing Wilson said would change that.
Right?
"Than I would say that you need more time. It has only been a couple of hours since you have learned about your condition. Naturally anyone would be in shock at the situation, but already you have shown that you are stronger than most." A malicious grin showed upon Wilson's face and Richard leaned forward even more so their eyes locked heatedly.
"Then, what if I said that it was me being feeble that got me in this position? I could've avoided being paralyzed; the situation I was in could've been shunned if I hadn't been weak." Knowing he had the last word, he turned his head back to the mirror, but a rough hand caught his chin and forced his gaze back to Wilson's.
"Why do you insist to put yourself down? You were not weak. It was not your fault that you had been knocked down, nor was it your fault that you cannot fly." Wilson's voice was harsh as if he held a grudge against his team, but he couldn't know what had happened, could he?
"Who are you?" Richard whispered heatedly. His eyebrows frowned as Wilson straightened with a smug look upon his face.
"You are the detective, Robin, figure it out." Richard sucked in a breath and clutched his hands on the armrest.
"Doctor Wilson-," Richard watched as the same nurse as before stepped up to Wilson and muttered a few words with the man. Becoming rather overwhelmed, Richard wheeled away toward an open balcony. His eyes drank in the picture of Gotham City. It was not really fresh air, but better than the stuffy room in the hospital and the lights from the skyscrapers blinked dazedly at him.
The wind played with his hair in a similar fashion in which Wilson ran his hand through it earlier. He had no idea where he had known Wilson before….
Richard sighed, his eyelids squeezing shut as he tried to think past the thick haze in his mind.
--PA--
"Doctor Wilson, I was trying to get your attention before." A stern nurse came up to him just as he landed blowing mark on Richard. His eyes went from Richard to the nurse. Her frown wrinkles around her mouth were rather pronounced and they deepened as she handed him a letter.
"And I was talking to my patient. You wouldn't have wanted to interrupt me." He replied coldly, looking down at the letter she was holding out. He didn't take it and instead moved his gaze back to the woman's eyes. "You wanted to say something?" She pursed her lips again and kept her arm outstretched, shaking it slightly.
"Mr. Wayne wrote the hospital and signed for Richard's immediate release." Slade frowned slightly and urged her to go on with an impatient hand. Her eyes flashed, but she continued. "Richard will be leaving tomorrow with Mr. Wayne. He has legal rights to take Richard and admit the antibiotics himself."
It was an unexpected move from the Bat but it wasn't unwanted. In fact, this might work to his own advantage. His eyebrow rose as he slowly started walking away from the woman and her outstretched hand. "Excuse me, Dr. Wilson-," She was waving that pathetic letter in her hand.
"You are excused Madame." His tone of voice left her frozen in her spot, the letter dropping to her side.
His eyes were intentionally locked on Richard and he leaned against the French door. The boy was trying to collect his thoughts in the cool night air of Gotham, unsuccessfully.
Soon, Richard.
--PA--
The lights were dimming in the hallways and nurses came around to check on the patients before letting them sleep. Richard was given his antibiotics with a cup of water. Not exactly the late night snack he was looking for, but he couldn't complain. He just wanted to be alone for awhile.
Sitting in the dark lit room, his thoughts were centered completely on Dr. Wilson. Never once did the man smile or seem to be warm hearted. No, he seemed the opposite of that. He reminded Richard of Bruce.
Just thinking of the Dark Knight made his head spin faster. His trembling fingers shot up to his head and grasped his temples in a death grip. First things first. He had to clear his mind and think of whom Wilson was. Somewhere in his mind, he knew who the man was. He just needed to confront it.
Who else could speak to Richard and make him doubt himself? Who could speak with such intelligence? Who could make him feel this vulnerable and make his blood rise?
But it didn't make sense.
Why would Slade show his face? His true face at that? It had been… a year since Richard had last obsessed over the man… a year since he was infatuated on what was under that mask of his. And now he was here. In this very hospital, undercover as a doctor, whispering things in his ear. What could it mean?
And then he felt that strong feeling of burning curiosity that always seemed to go hand in hand with Slade. His eyes flashed and his hands clenched. An ugly sneer distorted his appearance as he looked over at the wheelchair sitting so harmlessly beside his bed. He was paralyzed. He couldn't run. He couldn't walk… he couldn't even crawl properly. So the question that burnedhim was what did Slade want?
The man couldn't want to kill him. If he had, Richard would be dead already.
The man couldn't want him as an apprentice; Richard would be useless to him.
Just like Bruce thought.
No matter, whatever the reason Slade wanted him for; Robin wouldn't stick around and wait. No, he would figure out what the man wanted on his own terms- from a distance underneath paper work and solitude. Looking over at the wheel chair, he swallowed.
He sat up in bed and used his arms and hands to scoot his reluctant body over to the side of the bed. Next was the tricky part. With a sigh, his right hand slapped the nightstand and his other arm clutched the edge of the bed… with a grimace, he pushed the rest of his body over the bed. He held himself up by his arms, and slowly lowered himself in the chair.
He would've been extremely happy that he had managed that, but his whole body was shaking in fatigue just after that small feat.
--PA--
Wintergreen placed the teabag in the hot water cup and started to make his way to Slade's study. His old friend came back from the hospital hours ago and locked himself in his room. Usually Slade didn't need to sleep or eat but the mercenary generally did sleep around two hours every night to regenerate his body for more strength. But recently, Slade had been staying up all night, trying to find a cure for paralysis.
William didn't know if Slade would find the cure, after all, his 'apprentice' shattered his lower spinal cord. But alas, Slade was a genius when he put all his attention into an assignment.
He raised a fist and tapped at the door and awaited the familiar growl of approval, but silence answered his knock. Waiting patiently, he allowed a few minutes to go by when he let himself in. He expected to be met with an empty room, but was flabbergasted to be facing Slade who was studying something underneath a microscope on a large computer screen. His eyes went over to the side of the room and gave an exasperated sigh. There were two people gagged against the wall. One was watching William desperately, his mouth bound shut. The other man was knocked out, not moving. What they both had in common was the wheelchair they sat upon.
Turning his eyes back to Slade, he shook his head. The Slade he knew would never be caught off guard. With another sigh, Wintergreen positioned the tea tray on the counter and silently walked up behind the man. Tensing, he placed a hand on Slade's shoulder and was not surprised in the least as the man turned with quick reflexes and slammed him against the table… all before William's hand landed on his shoulder.
"For God's sake, Slade, I knocked on the door and you still didn't realize I was in the room." Slade's messy appearance met William's eyes and the old man frowned in disappointment. Once Slade let go of Wintergreen, did he say something. "You're slipping, Slade. Look at yourself, your untidy, unaware of your surroundings, and clueless on what's happening around you… especially to your apprentice." Deathstroke flashed William a severe look with his one eye, his false eye was absent his socket covered by an ebony eye patch.
"What are you blabbering on about, Wintergreen?" William ignored his comment and looked at Slade's workplace. Formulas were written neatly on pieces of paper, and test tubes were labeled precisely full of different colored liquid.
At least he's organized here. Save for the two humans…
"What I'm saying is that I could've been someone else. You have many enemies that want to… well, attempt to kill you. I came close enough to stab you." He watched as Deathstroke gave a humorless smile that held absolutely no comfort.
"William I knew it was you. No need to lecture me on things I already know." William raised an eyebrow in mock surprise.
"So you're aware that your apprentice left the hospital and is now roaming the city?"
Deathstroke sighed and turned back to his formula, ignoring the old man across from him. But Slade paused in his motions and seemed to contemplating something. That blue eye turned back to him. "Of course I am, Wintergreen. I already have someone on it."
William gave a snort and crossed his arms over his chest. Right now the only people in Slade's warehouse were himself and Slade. Well, and robots, if he counted them as people and Slade's guinea pigs.
"Really? And who is that?"
"You."
Wintergreen opened his mouth trying to form the words to convince Slade that he wasn't good with children. "Why can't you do it? He is yours after all." Slade's lips twitched and he motioned toward his work table.
"I am busy. I need to gather a few ingredients to continue on my research and our friends need looking after." The man who was conscious moaned deeply in his throat but Slade ignored him. "Oh, and Wintergreen?" William turned to look at the bound man and back to Slade in expectancy. "Don't underestimate Richard."
Wintergreen sighed and turned his back on his old friend. He was getting too old to work for the assassin.
--PA--
Richard was chewing on his tongue in annoyance. Everywhere he went; people looked down upon him with pitying glances and offered him help.
Did he look like he was mental?
Of course he had to admit that he did look the part. It was raining out and his hair and hospital clothes stuck to his skin, while his bags under his eyes were pronounced. Not to mention he had no idea where he was going, and he didn't have any money.
That was when an idea hit him. He didn't want to do it, but it was raining quite heavily outside and he knew he had a rising fever.
Richard stopped pushing himself forward and paused in the middle of the slightly populated walkway. His muddy hands from pushing the wheels shakily went up to his face and he buried his head in them. With a sigh, he began shaking his shoulders in dry heaves. Really, he didn't really cry but he was able to make a convincing sob. He doubted anyone would actually stop, considering most people don't really care for others. No, they had their own agenda and never stopped to help others.
Surprisingly it only took a matter of minutes before someone crouched down in front of him and put a wrinkled hand on his shoulder. It wasn't a hard to guess it was an elderly woman, out of the age rankings, Richard suspected it probably would have been a member of the senior party. "Oh my dear, are you alright?" Lifting his face up slightly, he let the rain slide down his cheeks.
"I… I don't know." With a shake of his head, he placed his head back in his dirty hands, successfully staining his own pale skin with mud.
"What happened?" The lady held her umbrella over Richard's head to stop the pouring rain. At this, his chest squeezed.
He shouldn't be taking advantage of her like this… not this sweet woman. "I just came out of the hospital just a few hours ago. My mother was supposed to pick me up but she didn't come. So I left and started to make my way over to her house." He paused and sniffed, looking up and avoiding her wrinkly eyes.
"She- she wasn't there. Now I have to go back to the hospital, and it's raining, I have no money for the subway, and people are looking at me-."
The withered hand stroked his muddy cheek in a soothing caress. "Shhh, it's alright, dear. How about I give you some money for the subway? It's the least I could do."
It's what Richard was aiming for but now that he reached his goal, he was unsure. "Oh, no, I couldn't." He watched as the women stood up and dug through her purse, taking out a small wad of money and she placed it in Richard's hand. It was much more than a ride on the subway, but she gave Richard's hand a squeeze when she set it in his grasp.
"Nonsense, go back to the hospital where they can take care of you. It looks like your running a fever." Looking deeply in her brown gaze, he gave a nod, the rain washing away his mud.
"Thank you miss, I will never forget this." She gave him a warm smile and turned back in the direction she was headed earlier.
Richard sat in his chair and stared at the money in his loose fist watching as the rain stained the material.
--PA--
Wintergreen gritted his teeth as his body bumped against the back of the filthy chair on the subway. Typically he drove cars or planes when he traveled. The subway was always so dirty and full of people who weren't worth his time. In this case though, one young boy was his center of attention. Unfortunately he wasn't on yet.
In all his years with working with Slade, he never felt so unworthy about doing something for his old friend. The man actually had the nerve to make him baby sit a lost cause. The boy would never be anything but a wheelchair rider. Alas, he would sit here and coax the boy to come back to Slade's base with him. It should be easy enough. Robin, his name was, would be so weak and broken that he would take the first opportunity to come with him.
His dull grey eyes went to the newspaper he gathered out from his leather briefcase and made himself as comfortable as he could on the filthy seat. His back never touched the seats. Before he could attempt to read the news, a pregnant woman who seemed to be almost due, stood beside him. She had no where to sit so she was holding onto the poll in front of him.
This wouldn't do.
Clearing his throat he looked up at the women. "Excuse me, miss?" The dirty blonde head turned to him and her large brown eyes smiled down at him. Perhaps she expected something from him? "Could you please move? I'm expecting someone at any moment and I won't be able to see them with you standing in the way." He watched as her wide smile immediately turned into a frown and those brown eyes glared at him.
What was she expecting? Offering her his spot? He thought not. He wasn't going to be holding onto a germ covered pole in the middle of the subway.
Many people around him looked at him in disbelief, but why would they? They weren't making an effort to give up their seat for her, why should he? Clearing his throat again, he grabbed the paper closer and studied it with uninterested eyes. He had already read this today, no big news that shot out at him.
The woman gave a whine and once the subway stopped she exited it with haste. Wintergreen's eyes shot up to the scrolling sign above the door. It was his stop. Slade's paralyzed apprentice.
He suppressed a smirk at that.
Many people got on and off the subway within a matter of minutes, but still no wheelchair figure. Before Wintergreen jumped up to exit the subway in search of Slade's toy, he finally spotted a large man catching the doors for a slow newcomer. A wheelchair slowly came in the subway and the figure gave a small nod toward the man who had helped him in.
And that was the first time Wintergreen laid eyes on Slade's prized fighter in person. He looked much different in presence rather on a film or unconscious in a bed. Perhaps he had the wrong person? That is until he saw the hospital clothes on the boy. Disbelief and amusement swept through Wintergreen. The boy was…was petite. His form was thin and short, making him appear innocent and naïve. The black messy hair flew in large, shocking blue eyes.
After how many talented young men and women threw themselves at Slade's feet for a chance to become his apprentice, the mercenary denied every last one for this.
Slade had said it was because of the challenge Robin presented to him. But how could someone this weak and useless be a challenge to Slade? The man was a legend when it came to understanding people, so how could he not realize that the boy in front of him was a child, someone who wanted to change his past to accommodate his future?
Wintergreen shook his head in disproval and disgust. Slade stooped low this time. Certainly the man had all the time in the world for being immortal, but he was still wasting it on the child.
Look at how foolish he is… From the time the boy got on the subway to now, William still hadn't moved his gaze away and still the child hadn't even noticed. There was no excuse- the child was a waste of training and money.
Nonetheless, he would bring the runt back to Slade to make the man feel better his toy was there. How Batman had ever found potential there was laughable, but William guessed the child looked better when he was able to walk by himself.
But now… now that he was in a wheelchair, he was worth nothing.
The subway came to a stop and William stood up as Robin wheeled his way out. This part of town was full of commercials; hotels, restaurants, shops and etc. Surly the boy didn't think he was getting anywhere without Batman or Slade breathing down his neck.
He was well aware of many people glancing in Robin's direction with curiosity and pity. Wintergreen didn't blame them one bit. It was a sight to see a small boy wheeling around with absolutely no sense in direction.
Grey eyes followed every motion the Boy Wonder made. His arms and hands shook severely every time they lifted up to pull forward the wheels to his chair. The skin above the lithe muscle was shockingly pale and clammy looking. Slade had said something about needing antibiotics in his system and it looked like the boy needed them fast and soon.
He was surprised when Robin kept wheeling further down an alley where less people were around. What was the boy playing at? Did he know a shortcut perhaps? No matter, Wintergreen followed and stayed at a distance while the child stopped and hunched his shoulders in defeat. It looked as if he were crying or resting his sore arms.
Suppressing an I told you so Wintergreen quietly made his way toward the oblivious boy. He made sure no one was around when he bent down to Robin's level- ready to gather the boy in his arms. What William didn't expect was what happened next.
The boy slammed his forehead against his own and not seconds later came a strong fist, crashing itself underneath his chin in a powerful right hook.
Before Wintergreen fell unconscious, the last thing he saw was bright, tired, blue eyes looking down at him in revulsion. He also noticed a heavy scar across the boy's right eye.
Ironic.
----
With an annoyed grunt from Richard, he started on his way again. The moment he got on the subway, he noticed the man was watching his every move. At first the he had thought the gaze was curious pity like everyone else, but it changed into suspicion when the man followed him down the alleyway.
The man, if he wanted something from him, wouldn't be out long; so Richard started off as fast as he could toward his unknown destination. The chilly air felt good against his burning skin, but it also made him cold. He knew he had an illness along with his paralysis; it was growing steadily inside of him from the lack of antibiotics Bruce denied him.
With a ragged breath, Richard hunched his shoulders in frustration. He had no idea where to go. He was cold, sick, dying, and he had to piss like no other. At least if he had use of his legs, he could get by easily… but now-,
It was at that moment Richard felt something he promised himself never to feel; defeat and hopelessness.
He couldn't go to the Teen Titians with the small spark of anger toward them, nor could he go to Bruce with the knowledge his mentor actually considered letting him go. An orphanage was out of the question, he was almost sixteen and no one would care for him at that age, especially when he was in a wheelchair. And to top all that, he had Slade out here.
His options were limited so he had to pick. And he decided to go with the Teen Titans. There he could recoup in his own room and figure things out from there.
Pushing away his doubts and illness, Richard put his chin up and kept moving.
--PA--
William groaned when he rose from the unconsciousness. His whole head was shifting and humming in pain. The cold ground he laid upon wasn't helping the matter one bit. He opened his eyes and got on his hands in knees trying to get his senses to accommodate to the change in proceedings. That child tricked him-,
"Its good to see you have finally gained consciousness, William." The voice sent chills running down his spine and his eyes slid up to the short roof in which a dark figure was crouching down low.
"Slade I-,"
"What have I told you about underestimating your opponents?" Slade murmured knowingly. William saw that Slade was dressed in his fighting gear with a ninja sword strapped on his back.
"I know. I underestimated Robin-,"
"Richard." Wintergreen's tongue grew heavy when Slade corrected him. "His name is Richard, Wintergreen. And he's not pathetic, nor is he a small defeated child." The older man swallowed back his retort and gave a nod. It was better to agree with Slade when his voice turned cold and short.
"I underestimated Richard, then. I apologize." Seeing that Slade wouldn't be jumping down anytime soon to help him up, Wintergreen got to his own feet and slid his palm against the wall for support. "I lost him- I don't know where he went." William panted and turned to look up at his old friend who seemed to be fading into the shadows. "Will you go after him?" Wintergreen murmured.
Seeing the man gone, William gave a sigh and started walking back the subway. "I told you I had things to gather. I won't be back for another day or so." Slade's voice was hushed, fading into the night. "Make yourself useful and get a room ready for my apprentice."