Title: An Alternate New World

Disclaimer: I do no own the battlefield, I do not own the sword, I do not own Slade, I do not own Robin, I could go on but I think you get the point, I own nothing.

Warning: Dark fic, non-slash. Sorry but it isn't this time.

A/N – This drabble is an AU off of Winja's drabble 'A New World' and YES I did ask permission beforehand. Also thanks go out to my lovely wonderful sister, Lorian Kedrake for tweaking words and helping in general and without further ado…

He was dying.

He couldn't remember which of the, what seemed like thousand, of assaults that had been aimed at him had found it's mark but whatever had pierced his stomach had done it's job. He could feel the blood seeping between his fingers even as he tried to stem the flow. He had little strength left now and he only hoped that death came before the birds did.

Robin scanned the sky, dark would soon be upon him, the other lifeless and soon to be lifeless that littered the field and then they would come; to feast on the flesh of the dying and the dead. Gorging their demonic stomachs on the bodies of hero and villain, civilian and soldier alike.

What was that saying?...all are equal in death? Yes, that's it or something like it. Not that it matters now…

Robin felt a shadow fall across his face and he closed his eyes expecting the sharp bit of talons and beaks. What he didn't expect was a hand on his forehead brushing his bangs aside to show his face more clearly.

He opened his eyes. There was a man crouched over him dressed in black and camouflage, a sword hilt just visible over his shoulder. The man looked down at him with one familiar eye as the other was obscured by an eye patch, his white hair contrasting oddly with the strong square jaw and smooth features.

"You should have stayed my apprentice, Robin. You would have been better prepared for this war," the man said softly.

Robin's eyes widen as he realized who it was that was standing over him…Slade. Slade without his mask. His identity finally revealed on Robin's deathbed…and on his birthday… birthday presents didn't get more twisted than this.

Robin closed his eyes again a hint of a smirk pulling at his lips. To die on one's birthday. How terribly ironic.

"Robin. Look at me."

Robin didn't know why, but he did.

"Go…away. Let'me…die…in peace," his voice was harsh, each word having to be forced out no louder than a whisper.

"Oh? So, then should I leave you here for the birds? They are already starting to gather, by dark this field will be black with them."

Robin gave him no reply, his eyes once again gazing up into the coming night. There wasn't any wind but a few wispy clouds still crawled their way across an expanse of orange fading to black.

Slade's movement brought him back to earth as the man reached out and lifted Robin's hand away from his wound. Robin had a sudden fear that Slade was just going to let him bleed to death as he felt an increased flow of liquid slide down his side, but after a moment he replaced the hand.

Slade shifted back on his hunches, his arm resting on his knee, one hand hanging free.

Robin focused on the blood on the man's hand. His blood that gave Slade's black glove a wet reddish sheen. How many others could say the same? How many people had lost their lives at the hands of this monster?...too many would be Robin's guess.

Robin's tired eyes traced up the man's muscled arm, not meeting his eye, and paused at the sword hilt just visible on Slade's back. Slade followed his gaze and lifted a hand to the hilt and drew his sword.

This is it, Robin thought. He's going to kill me. I always had a feeling it was going to be Slade that did the deed. He's tried often enough.

But all that Slade did was allow for the tip to settle into the ground as he leaned against it slightly.

"Would…you?"

"I don't think so."

"please…" A small part of Robin cringed at the plea but the part that had already accepted death willed him to say 'yes'.

An icy glint shown in Slade's eye, "No."

"W-Why?"

"Because this is the life you chose Robin. You wanted to live as a hero and now you're going to die like one." Looking around Slade asked, "Where is Bruce?"

Robin not surprised that Slade knew Batman's identity, answered. "Dead."

"I see."

Slade did not ask about the Titans. He had already known about their deaths.

Robin once again closed his eyes as he felt a warm flush wash over his body where before the blood loss had left him freezing.

I must be getting close now, he thought, once again forgetting about Slade. If he didn't want to help, he didn't matter. Not now and never again. He felt a pressure in the crook of his arm but it could have been a fly for all Robin knew as his mind sank even more into the peaceful warmth.

He felt movement of some kind but he didn't know if it was him moving or the world. Then a sharp pain to his stomach made his eyes flutter open and a last gasp of agony escape him.

Slade with his sword re-sheathed, leaned over Robin pinning his arms as whatever the man put on his stomach, set fire to his wound as it burned its way through him.

After several minutes the burning stopped but Robin couldn't stop his body from trembling, as the world around him was nothing but swaying shapes, that peaceful warmth gone now. Then he felt himself being lifted off the ground.

"n…n…..n" but he couldn't get the word out. He didn't want to go, he wanted to stay here. Here in this battlefield that had become a graveyard, here where somewhere laid Bruce's body, here where he was finally ready to accept death… not with Slade.

"Hush, boy. Did you really think I would let you go so easily? Now with Bruce and the Titans gone I am all that you have left."

Robin whimpered.

"I told you all those years ago in Jump City, Robin. That we would meet another day and here that day has finally come. I have even kept my word about the Titans' deaths…did you like watching them die, Apprentice?"

Robin had no strength to cry, no strength to fight, no strength even to curse the man. The only thing he could do was tremble as his heart continued to beat the little blood that was left in his veins. How much had he lost? Too much, he hoped as his eyes flickered and closed. Exhaustion caused by blood loss and Slade's healing chemicals finally having taken their toll on his body.

Unconscious oblivion came to claim him but not the peaceful 'into the light' kind. No, far from it. This was an oblivion that embodied Slade, dark and ordered, corrupt and twisted with just an edge of reason.

Death would not come; he had been snatched away to a fate far worse.

Apprentice.

A/N – I hope you guys liked this one because I had a good time writing it. It was on my mind one weird morning a couple weeks ago, so review and tell me what you think. Oh and if you haven't read Wynja's 'Delightful Drabbles' you really must. 'A New World' the drabble that this one is based off of, is actually Chapter 37. Thanks a lot Wynja for the inspiration!

Later, D/2