Disclaimer: Copyrights? I've never heard of such a thing.

A/N: First off, thank you guys so much for the reviews! I've never gotten so many responses before for a chapter. I opened up my email and was like, "whoa…" So, yeah. I really appreciate it and I squee with joy every time I read a review.

"One day, some lunatic in a cape digs up a mystical statue…the next thing you know, he's walking around in your body. Sure, we won in the end. But when things like that happen…you think they don't take a look?"

-Green Arrow (Oliver Queen), Identity Crisis

Chapter 10: Tea

-R-

Robin collapsed onto the couch and bowed his head, his brow furrowed and his fingers massaging his aching temple. He was trying so very hard to compose himself, but was clearly failing. He couldn't—he just couldn't—afford to have a mental breakdown right now. It was just…just that Robin remembered exactly when that particular beating happened and why Slade had done it.

"What did Slade mean?" Cyborg asked, finally gathering the courage to speak. "He doesn't know you better than we do."

If only that were true.

"He knew my secret identity."

It was the ultimate taboo. Most villains in Jump City weren't too concerned about his secret identity or his history. All they cared about was what bank they were robbing or the next heist they would perform or...whatever. What differentiated Slade from the other villains was the personal investment Slade took in him.

And that final jab….circus brat….

"What?" Beast Boy exclaimed. "How?"

He almost laughed out loud, but refrained himself. Nothing about this was funny, yet it was almost an instinctive reaction. Sometimes Beast Boy could be so clueless.

"Do you honestly believe," Robin said, lifting his head to look at them, "that he wouldn't take a peek while I was there?"

"Well…"

Tears of anguish were slowly trailing down Starfire's face. Her loud sobs only increased his anxiety. He hated to see her like this, which was exactly why he didn't want to tell them about the apprenticeship in the first place. Yet this video told more than he could ever explain with words.

"I had to do everything he said or else he would have killed you all." Robin's hands began to shake. "He's right. He knew everything about me. My past, my weaknesses. Everything."

Whatever Slade thought, it was not amusing how far he was willing to go to save his friends. He had already experienced the pain brought on by his parents' deaths. Robin worked so hard to make sure that he would never be so emotionally distraught again from the death of a loved one. Slade had been wrong to assume that he could control Robin forever by taking the Titans' lives.

He stood up and tossed Red X his belt back. "Thanks for pointing out the flaws. I'll pay you now."

His voice sounded monotonous, but crisp and business-like. Robin kept telling himself over and over that it didn't matter anymore. Slade was gone. Slade was dead. It was only happenstance that this video showed up.

Yet the memories were quite vivid.

To his surprise Red X put a hand on his shoulder. "You don't have to."

Robin stepped back from Red X, his movements and expression almost defensive. The last thing he expected from Red X was sympathy. He almost wished that the thief would say something mocking or degrading to him. A moment of brief—but intense—hatred for Red X passed through Robin like an electric shock.

"Are you trying to pity me?" Robin snapped, his voice rising angrily. "Because I don't need pity! I did what I had to do. Unlike you, X, I'm not selfish. I don't get paid to do this. I let him walk all over me because I had to and because I had no other choice. "

No other choice. It was a friggin' no holds barred beat down. The last thing Robin wanted from the others was pity. He didn't want to be coddled like a child. His…employment…with Slade was a personal matter, but it seemed as though Slade wasn't satisfied with keeping it between them. Even when he had another willing apprentice the man went out of his way to humiliate him.

"This is why I'll never play the big villain, kid," Red X said. "I take what I need and do what I want, but I don't need to know your secret i.d." He pointed towards the television screen. "That is one sadistic bastard. I may get on your nerves, we may have fun little sparring sessions, but I'll never do that to anyone."

The thief sounded absolutely sincere. Robin found himself believing every word that Red X said. He was selfish, for sure, but if Red X really wanted to he could play the hero.

"William Wintergreen," Red X said, "works at the racetracks under the name Will Jacobs." Red X pushed a button on his belt. "I hope that helps. I'll be seeing ya around, kid."

With a flicker the thief disappeared.

"Robin…" Raven said, reaching for his shoulder. "Are you—"

He walked towards the hallway leading out of the common room, but stopped at the frame of the door. Robin leaned against the wall and flung an arm over his face, struggling hard to contain the hurricane of emotions churning within him. What did he do wrong? How did he allow himself to be so weak? How did he allow Slade to trap him like that? Batman had taught him to do better.

So much better.

"I'll go find Wintergreen myself," he said.

His tone suggested that he didn't want to talk about what just happened.

"But…do you not wish for assistance?" Starfire asked.

"He knows my secret identity as well. I'll go alone and as myself."

Even after all this…after admitting to the fact that Slade knew his history, Robin was still reluctant to tell his friends about his past. It was an old habit deeply ingrained within him, the result of training with Bruce for years.

"Robin…" It was Raven. "None of what happened is your fault."

Was that what he felt? Guilt? He turned his head away and walked down the hallway into the darkness. Robin didn't want to see their faces. Or rather, he didn't want to looks their expressions of horror and anguish at what they had just witnessed.

He went into the bathroom, shut the door, and ripped off his mask. Robin splashed cold water onto his face until he became numb. His hands clutched the sides of the sink as he leaned forward, trying to hold back vomit.

Just as he was beginning to cope with the nightmares Slade had to go and throw in a few more "surprises." Water dripped from his chin and hair in a steady trickle as he turned off the tap. He didn't watch the video, but he couldn't stop himself from listening and couldn't stop the memories flooding back into him. He considered what Raven had said.

"None of this is your fault…"

She was wrong.

For the hundredth time he wished he could become emotionally numb. Everything was his fault. It was because of him that the others almost got killed. He tried so hard to be a strong, resilient leader of the Teen Titans. Yes, he made mistakes. But because he was the most well-known hero on the team (the protégée of Batman, after all) people chewed him out more for his mistakes.

Red X was his mistake, and probably the one he regretted most of all. Sure, Red X had goaded Slade out into the open. It was a risk he didn't have to take, a risk Batman would have scolded him for. Masquerading as Red X probably reaffirmed Slade's decision to take him on as an apprentice.

Robin grabbed a towel and began to wipe his face dry. What did he have to do to get Slade out of his life? The face looking back at him in the mirror was twisted with distraught. Robin put the mask back on his face.

He just had to carry on.

-Rae-

The next morning it was eerily quiet in the Tower.

Starfire and Beast Boy had retreated to their rooms. They came in briefly for a quick breakfast before going back to their rooms. Cyborg sat at the kitchen table and stared into space. Robin was off to locate Wintergreen.

"Man…" Cyborg said, rubbing his face. "I still can't get over it…"

Raven poured herself a cup of herbal tea to help herself calm down. The video hadn't hit her as hard as the others, since he had already felt his emotions and seen his memories. Yet last night she couldn't help but admire his courage. Even when Slade offered to alleviate the pain Robin still said no. In a way, the video did not discourage her. She supposed that was what Slade meant to do: humiliate him.

"Dude, I should have found that a long time ago," Cyborg said, not to anyone in particular. "I should have deleted it before Robin found it."

The video…

Raven went up to the computer console and accessed the video again.

"Raven, why are you looking at that again?" Cyborg asked. "Once was enough."

She shut her eyes tightly. Instead of stopping she put the video on mute and began to watch it again. Raven pushed away her emotions and tried to look at this objectively. Even with her emotions in check it was extremely difficult to watch this again.

"I'm looking for clues."

Raven knew that the others accused her of being too calm and not emotionally involved in anything. The thing was that she couldn't afford to be emotionally involved for fear of hurting others. Cyborg shot her a confused look.

"For what? Slade was just messing with Robin's head. That's all Slade meant to do."

Her lips thinned. That could very well be what Slade meant to do, but something else nagged at her. It wasn't a sense of morbid curiosity that drove her, but a sense that they were missing something important. As she watched she tried to draw her eyes away from the beating, looking instead at the background and the edges of the screen. What was she looking for? Something. Anything that could help. She knew that Robin would never look at that message ever again. Would Slade be counting on that?

Her lips parted slightly as her eyes caught something.

"Wait a moment," she breathed.

She paused the video and stared at the screen.

"There's a subliminal message in here," she said. "Cyborg, look at this."

Cyborg stood up heavily and came over to look. She pointed at the date at the bottom of the screen.

"The date is wrong. Look, it's not even a date."

Instead of a date, there were the numbers 15-39-28.

"What is it, then?" Cyborg asked.

"The numbers to a combination lock, perhaps? Or an account number or a password."

Both of them stared at the photo still. Robin's body was contorted in pain as Slade's body was frozen in time, his fist drawn back to hit Robin again. Raven wondered what Robin had done or said to make Slade so angry.

"Or it could be nothing," she said, "knowing Slade, he may be leading us on another wild goose chase."

"I think we should call Robin," Cyborg said. "He knows better than we do."

They exchanged uneasy glances. Slade obviously left some sort of code for his former apprentice. Raven didn't know what it could possibly be, but they had to start somewhere.

"Let's go back to the haunt," Raven said.

"I'll go get the others," Cyborg replied.

-R-

For the second time this week Robin found himself back as Dick Grayson.

He weaved in-and-out of traffic on his motorcycle, earning himself many angry shouts from other drivers on the highway. People would complain less if he was roaring along as Robin on the R Cycle, but this had to be done undercover. Dick just hoped that a cop wouldn't pull him over for speeding. Bruce wouldn't be happy about the ticket.

The reason he couldn't infiltrate Jump City's underground was because too many people would recognize him as Richard Grayson. Being the ward of a billionaire didn't help at all. His black leather jacket flapped in the wind as he leaned forward.

He had been sorely tempted to barge in as Robin, but he needed this to be as quietly as possible. As always, the press would always ask questions. Why was Robin outside of Jump? What case was he working on? Why is he looking for a British gentleman named William Wintergreen?

He screeched to a halt in the parking lot of the racetracks. This reminded him too much of Gotham City's underground back when he was a kid. Unlike Jump City, which was usually free of smog, this city was full of it. Smog cast the place in a delicate shade of ochre. The chain-link fence surrounding the racetracks was rusted with age. Trash—broken beer bottles, cigarette butts, and discarded tobacco packs—littered the dirt ground, which was covered with sparse yellow grass. Middle-aged men leaned against a wall and talked politics, smoke trailing out of the end of their cigarettes. He almost expected one of the GCPD's police blimps to float overhead.

Dick swung off of his motorcycle and took off his helmet. He ran a hand through his hair—flattened by the helmet—and then put on an old brown newsboy hat he had found at the bottom of his closet. It was a decade out of date, but it was something his father bought for him years ago.

The wooden stadium shook slightly as a stampede of racehorses sped through. A deafening roar of enthusiasm rose from the crowds as gamblers cheered for their favorites. He joined the small line and stuck his hands deep in his pockets.

Without the mask he felt vulnerable. Back when he was continuously switching from Robin to Dick Grayson it seemed as though he was taking on two distinct personalities. One was the orphaned acrobat and the other a wise-cracking sidekick. Now that he was older and away from Bruce it seemed as though the two had held melded into one. Without the mask, he felt exposed.

When he approached the cashier he leaned on the counter and pushed the brim of his hat up, revealing his bright blue eyes.

"I'm looking for Will Jacobs," Dick said. "Is he around?"

The cashier chewed a toothpick as he looked him up and down in distrust. Just beyond the front desk were the numbers runners and bookies working frantically before the next race. They argued amongst each other as they calculated the odds of winning for each horse competing. Telephones rang continuously as people called in to place their bets.

"What business do you have with him, kid?"

"It's private."

The cashier chewed methodically on his toothpick.

"Go away, kid," the cashier said, "unless you're placing a bet, which I'm sure you ain't doing."

People behind him began to peer ahead, annoyed that Dick was holding up the line. The man behind Dick jostled him.

"If you're not going to bet then get away, punk."

Dick moved away from the line and went straight for the door leading inside. At once the cashier leaned back to speak with one of the men inside in an alarmed voice. A man—presumably part of security—opened the door and towered over Dick menacingly.

"What are ya trying to do, kid? Get lost!"

In one swift move Dick caught the man by the scruff of the neck and slammed him against the brick wall. He honestly didn't have time for this crap. Not when someone was attacking the Titans. Dick shoved his arm against the man's neck and pinned him to the wall. The man's eyes widened at the sudden attack, as though asking "where did that come from?"

People in line turned to stare as Dick set his mouth in a grimace, tightening his hold on the man as he struggled. Even when he was in costume, Dick never looked like much of an intimidating figure. No one expected much from him. People always seemed surprised that such a skinny kid—a little short for his age—could be such a threat.

"Tell Mr. Jacobs that he knows me," Dick said. "Tell him that Richard is here to see him. We have a mutual friend we need to discuss."

Too bad book-keeping wasn't illegal in California like it was in Gotham, then Dick could let out some of his frustration on the bookies. Of course, criminals in Gotham could make anything illegal. Hell, the Joker could make a friggin' squirt gun into an acid-spitting machine gun of doom.

"Hey!"

Two of the numbers runners working in the back room came out to see what the fuss was about. At the sight of Dick they drew their guns and pointed them at him. If they meant to intimidate him, then it didn't work. In Dick's line of profession he was shot at all the time.

"Let him go, kid," one of the men growled. "Or we'll call the cops."

Not wanting to make too much of a scene, Dick let the man go. He walked straight towards the men, completely unperturbed by the guns, and jabbed a finger at one of them.

"I want to talk to Will Jacobs. British gentlemen, maybe you know him?" Dick smiled grimly. "Tell him that Richard is here. We need to talk about a mutual friend."

"Who do you think you are, punk?" the man snarled. "Barging in here like that?"

Although Dick wanted to talk with his fists, he forced himself to keep his cool. He had the ability to beat these guys to a pulp, but being a hero meant that he had to know discretion.

"My identity doesn't matter. Just call your boss, he'll know what's going on."

After considering Dick for a good minute the man took a walkie-talkie out of his belt.

"Will," the man said into his walkie-talkie, keeping a hand on the butt of his gun. "There's some kid here who wants to see you. Says his name is Richard."

He let go of the call button and waited for a reply. For a moment no one answered, but Dick could hear someone breathing on the other end. Surely, he had given the man enough information to guess who he was.

"I'll be there."

The three men gazed at Dick in shock. Dick straightened his jacket with a sharp jerk.

About a minute later an older gentleman stepped from the back room. William Wintergreen looked exactly as Dick remembered him. Tall and gaunt, with a small white mustache. Wintergreen paused as Dick lifted his head. He knew as soon as they made eye contact that the man recognized him.

"Come into the back room," Wintergreen said, gesturing for him to follow.

Dick walked into the building, the cashiers turning in their seats to get a better look at him. He avoided their gaze and pulled the brim of his cap down. Dick hoped that no one recognized him. Some of the bookies drawing up quick charts stopped what they were doing, but quickly continued working at a glare from Wintergreen.

They walked into an office.

"Give us some privacy, John," Wintergreen said to the man. "I know who he is."

John shot Wintergreen a puzzled look before stepping back and shutting the door shut. Wintergreen went behind his desk and looked at him.

"I never expected you to find me here, Richard," Wintergreen said, "although I don't suppose you're here to bet on Big Blue."

"I need to talk to you."

"Of course. Let's sit down, have a cup of tea, and talk."

-BB-

The haunt.

Beast Boy began sniffing around the destroyed lair, his long ears trailing on the dusty floor. He really didn't want to be here after what he's seen last night. After a few minutes he transformed back into a human.

"What are we looking for again?"

"Anything that would require a combination lock or a password," Raven said, "Slade left Robin a message."

"And what makes you think that we'll understand it?" Beast Boy asked, rather annoyed. "It was meant for him, after all."

"It's more like a code."

"He's working on a different lead," Cyborg said. "One that might actually help us."

Huh.

Beast Boy now felt terrible for complaining about Robin's intense secrecy. If Slade had drawn him in as an apprentice Beast Boy would have cracked. He reasoned that some could consider self-preservation a form of cowardice. Robin had every chance to refuse, to give in just to stop the torture.

Perhaps that was why Slade chose Robin in the first place.

He couldn't even begin to image how it felt to be completely helpless—and at the mercy of an arch-enemy. Yeah, he always supposed it would be awesome to have a deliciously vibrant rivalry with a villain. Just like how he always wanted to go solo. Could he handle it? Probably not.

That video had proved otherwise. Robin and Slade's rivalry was not one of witty banter and theatrical fights, but one of tangible hatred. Pure, raw hatred on Robin's part.

And for good reason as well.

Beast Boy sighed heavily. "We've looked everywhere."

"We probably missed a few rooms," Cyborg said, fiddling around with a broken computer. "We're going to have to call Robin. He knows the layout of this place better than we do."

Robin had said that Slade knew everything about his past. If that happened to Beast Boy…

His own parents were dead. Garfield Logan was left behind with the Doom Patrol. One of the things he liked about being a Titan was that no one asked about your past. Yeah, everything was locked away safely in the databases, but everyone was trusted and accepted without much regard for past actions.

"Yeah I guess we'll h—Star?" Beast Boy turned around. Where was she? "Where did Starfire go?"

Beast Boy pushed one the broken gears away from his face. Even though it was warm outside in Jump it was frightfully chilly in the haunt. This place was also quite a labyrinth; since he had only been in the main room before Beast Boy never realized how big the place was. And how many television screens could one guy have? His electricity bill must have been a nightmare.

Beast Boy found Starfire huddling in a corner.

"Star?" He asked hesitantly. "Are you okay?"

He placed a hand on her shoulder and turned her around. Her face was shiny with tears.

"Starfire," Beast Boy said, confused. "You shouldn't be sitting there. The floor's dirty…you shouldn't…"

Without a word of explanation she threw her arms around him and sobbed into his shoulder. Beast Boy didn't have to ask to know what was bothering her. He awkwardly held her in his arms. She was much taller than he was.

"It's okay, Star," he said awkwardly. "He's fine now. Slade's gone."

Poor Star.

"How could he have done this?" Starfire exclaimed. "Why did Robin allow himself to be treated in such a degrading way?"

She knew the reason why, but it seemed as though she just couldn't accept it. The others gathered around them.

"I do not wish to be here!" she exclaimed. "Beast Boy is right: we have searched and found nothing."

Her tearful sobs echoed loudly in the large common room. Cyborg put an arm around her and glanced towards Raven, who was standing alone a few feet away.

"Raven…" Cyborg said. "Come on."

Grudgingly, she walked over towards them.

The four remaining Titans stood with their arms around each other. Slade's video had done the trick. He wanted them to watch it so that they feel like this. Lost. Confused. Hurt. It was proof that he was a ruthless monster and a formidable enemy.

Beast Boy himself felt a great emptiness deep inside him. Although he could not imagine how it felt to be mercilessly beaten into the floor, he could be a good friend and try to feel Robin's pain. No matter what Slade said or what he knew, Slade would never know Robin as a friend. Slade could know Robin's secret identity, his past, his family, but Slade would never get to know Robin as a person.

If that video had proven anything, it proved that Robin cared very deeply for the people he loved.

"We're going to find whoever did this," Cyborg said. "Let's keep looking."

-R-

"Do you want sugar?"

"Sure."

Dick watched Wintergreen pour him a cup of tea. Although he wasn't much of a fan of tea he was only being polite. They sat across from each other.

"I suppose you're not here to be nostalgic, Richard," Wintergreen said. "You and I both know that Slade is dead. So why are you here?"

Dick played with a napkin, almost unsure of what to ask first. The last time he saw Wintergreen was when he left the haunt to steal from Wayne Enterprises. When he returned after the fight with the Titans Wintergreen was nowhere to be found. After injecting himself with the probes and soundly defeating Slade with the help of the Titans, Robin feared for Wintergreen's life the moment Slade destroyed the haunt.

"Slade left me more than just bruises, Wintergreen. He left me memories I can never forget."

"And do you believe that I can help you forget?" Wintergreen asked, his eyes narrowing. "Help you heal just like I healed your contusions?"

"No." Dick shifted in his chair and glanced to the side. "No I don't.

To fill in the awkward silence Dick lifted the teacup to his lips and blew softly to cool it down. He didn't know why he just said that. Dick was here on business, not to reminisce about his time with Slade. Yet as he looked upon the former butler, Dick could not help but talk.

"Why did Slade chose me?"

"For many reasons," Wintergreen replied, "you know most of them."

Even after contemplating the man for many sleepless nights, Robin still didn't quite understand Slade's motivations. He wanted Robin as his son, but treated him like crap. He wanted someone to follow in his footsteps, but how could an unwilling apprentice do so? Slade was a walking contradiction. Wintergreen's tone suggested that he didn't quite understand either. So Robin posed another question.

"Why did you leave Slade?"

"I left soon after the Titans defeated him and you left. I knew that he was on a downward spiral the moment he met Markov."

"Why?"

"I was his best friend. His best man. Although I cared for him I knew he was going someplace I couldn't follow."

Best man? Slade was a married man? How strange.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that I didn't approve of what he did to you and that Markov girl." Wintergreen cupped his hands around his teacup. "He became obsessed."

How very true. But in the end it was Slade's obsession with him that allowed Dick to defeat him and escape. It was his obsession with Robin that Dick hated the most. Any other villain would have been pleased just to defeat him, but not Slade. Slade had to go digging into his past to keep his apprentice emotionally bound to him.

Dick found himself looking at Wintergreen's knobby hands.

Slade nudged Robin's fallen figure. When he didn't move Slade bent down and peeled off the mask. The boy wonder's eyes were closed shut, but his chest rose and fell slowly in the deep rhythm of unconsciousness.

"Good work, Sir," Wintergreen said sarcastically as he strode into the room, "you've managed to knock him unconscious. I'm sure he'll listen to you now."

Robin's eyes fluttered open. With grim determination he tried to move, but found that he couldn't without pain racking through his body. He remembered what he had said to Slade and the beating that followed. Although he could hardly move he did not regret saying it.

Not one bit.

"Get up," Slade said.

He struggled to push himself to his hands and knees. It was strange, sometimes. Strange that he sometimes wanted Slade to beat him up. It made him feel like less of a traitor. Robin's arms shook as he put some weight on them, but then he eventually collapsed back to the floor. After two more failed attempts to stand up he had to admit defeat. Robin held up a hand.

"H..help."

"You can get up yourself," Slade said.

As Slade strode away Wintergreen knelt down next to Robin. Gingerly, so as not to hurt him, Wintergreen lifted the boy to his feet. Robin found himself leaning heavily on the older man for support. His eyes were nearly sealed shut from the purple bruises marring his face. Robin could hardly see anything aside from Wintergreen's hand, which was old and knobby.

"Obsessed and sadistic," Dick said, pausing to drink the tea, "I don't understand why you worked for him."

"Don't be so quick to judge, although I suppose that you do have good reason to. Slade and I used to be in the military together. I saved his life. He saved mine."

Slade was a military man? That would explain a lot. But there were still questions that needed answers about Slade's past. Even though Dick wanted to ask about Slade's past, it would do nothing to help his search for who triggered the dust.

"There was dust in Slade's mask," Dick said. "Someone triggered it and almost caused me to lose my mind. Do you know anything about it?"

"Yes, I know about the dust." Wintergreen sipped his tea. "He installed it as a precaution. If anyone was stupid enough to take off his mask he would drive them insane."

The man was that paranoid. But Robin had that mask for a good while before the dust was triggered. If Slade wanted to drive Robin insane why didn't he just trigger the dust? It would have been a lot easier than sending Terra after him.

"Do you know who triggered it?"

"No. I do not. Like I said, I left him not long after you did."

"Did you trigger it?"

Wintergreen shot him a cold glare. "No."

"I'm sorry. I have to ask."

Dick slumped a little in his seat. If Wintergreen was to be trusted—and he was sure he could be, even if he was Slade's former butler—then there was nothing else that could be said. He was completely baffled as to how to go about solving this mystery now.

"I don't have anything personal against you," Wintergreen said. "I owed Slade for saving my life. Even if I disagreed with what he did I stood by his side because I was his best friend."

Before Dick could respond his communicator buzzed. Startled, he took it out of his pocket and looked at Wintergreen. The older man shrugged. Dick disabled the video component before flipping it open to answer.

"We found something and we're back at the haunt," Cyborg said. "We need you here."

Back at Slade's haunt? What were they doing back there? From across the desk Wintergreen's eyes narrowed.

"I'll be there," Dick said, "just give me a few minutes."

He knew that it was rude to leave, but Wintergreen probably had things to do. Appointments to make, numbers to run, and a book-keeping business to run.

"I have to go," Dick said, standing up. "Thank you for the tea and for your time."

Dick sighed deeply. Back to square one. Hopefully the Titans found something useful to further their search. Wintergreen stood up as well.

"I do hope you figure out who did it." Wintergreen took out a pen and began to write on the back of a business card. "Here's someone who may help."

Dick looked at the name. "Adeline Kane."

Wintergreen nodded.

"As a last resort, Richard."

Dick opened his wallet and placed the business card inside. With a final nod he left the room. Was his time with Wintergreen completely worthless? Perhaps. Perhaps not. Who was Adeline Kane and what was her connection to Slade? Dick didn't know, but if he came to another dead end he would pay her a visit.

It was time to be a hero again.

A/N: Haha, they finally found Wintergreen!

I was excited to write the first scene of this chapter, but found it a little hard to write for some reason. I just felt like I couldn't do it enough justice. THE ANGST! It's too much, but I love it.

Also, the scene with the Titans investigating Slade's haunt: I know it's a hugfest, but how else can they respond to something like that?

I wanted to invoke the film noir feeling that the Batman: Animated Series had with the racetracks scene and with Dick's newsboy hat (I personally think newsboy hats are ADORABLE) that he wore as a kid in the episode "Robin's Reckoning."

Also tell me if you think Wintergreen is a little OOC. To me, he's sort of a gray character, and I'm just rolling with what he said in The Judas Contract about Slade's obsession with the Titans.

Oh, and please clog up my inbox with more reviews.