Author's Note: Thanks a ton for all the continual support! ^-^ Love you guys so much! ^.^

Oh, I forgot to mention last time. When it comes to vocabulary I have a secret. You wanna hear it? Yeah, I bet you do. ^^ Alrighty, here's the secret:

I live at Thesaurus dot com. Yup, I'll dump my usual standard word down and then go look up a better one when I'm just not feeling it. I always have Thesaurus open in a browser tab when I'm writing. It's helped quite a bit for my chapter titles even. ^^

So, there's no need to remember when Thesaurus can do it for you! XD

Also, a Happy Mother's Day to all of you! Remember, Mother's Day isn't just for women who've had a child; it's for all woman – to celebrate and honor Motherhood. Inside of every girl beats the heart of a mother. Be sure to honor those women who have blessed your life with their love! ^-^

On with the story!

Chapter Fifteen

Vacant Gemstones

September 26th, 2008. Friday, 6:34 am.

The alarm was blaring loudly; the irritating sound bouncing off the walls in a grating manner – the noise that awful reminder of unwanted wakefulness, yet nothing was done to stop it.

Dick didn't care.

The constant beeping rang and rang in his ears, swamping his mind with its noise; drowning out any and every conscious thought. The harsh sounds forever vibrated through the air.

Dick didn't care.

After another minute of enduring the relentless noise, he rolled over and stared at the clock; the alarm still roaring its annoying sounds. Dick slowly reached towards the digital clock and shut it off. Silence flooded the room instantly. Dick stared at the glaring bright, red letterings of the time; a peace blanketing the air with the new silence that seemed to assault his hearing just as loudly as the alarm had.

Dick felt no peace.

He rolled over onto his other side, curling his legs to his chest as he hugged his extra pillow close to his heart. He was tired. His body ached in dull pain from the confrontation with Slade last night. He wasn't going to get out of bed – ever again. No one could make him leave this bed. No matter what he did to him, Dick would stay. Maybe he should get some super glue and stick himself to the mattress. With a soft sigh, he stared at the clean white wall; his eyes glazed over.

He wasn't wearing his mask any more.

Robin was unmasked and the one who was lying in bed at that moment was Dick Grayson. He wasn't safe or protected any more. It was odd; the safety he felt beneath such a small article of clothing. Something so small, so insignificant, yet it was everything to Robin and Dick's existence.

And now it was gone.

The barrier of his world had been torn down. Dick was unsure how to continue from here. He was confused and afraid. Without Robin, Dick wasn't sure if he could continue any more. Robin had been his safety net; his security – the very thing that held his entire soul together. Robin blocked, protected the past from his mind. Dick had been hidden from the world for two whole years. He hadn't needed to face who he truly was; he hadn't needed to be reminded of his placement in the world – he only had to be a hero; he only had to be Robin, the Boy Wonder who was a leader and a protector.

But now he felt vulnerable, exposed and naked, and overwhelmingly depressed. Dick wasn't that leader nor was he that protector. How could he, when he couldn't even protect himself from the very evil that Robin tried with all his heart to protect him from? And no matter how hard he tried to lift himself up from the bed, his body felt like dead weight – just like his heart and soul.

What was holding him back? Getting up seemed like the heaviest of things. Was he just simply tired? Why did his body feel like the world was pressing down on him? Why couldn't he get up and move on? Wasn't Robin stronger than that? It was just a mask, wasn't it?

But he wasn't Robin any more. He was Dick and that boy couldn't take this kind of treatment. Dick was fragile, timid; a gentle soul that could easily be crushed – and at that moment, his soul felt as if everything was hard. There was no other word to describe how everything just felt hard – difficult beyond anything. Nothing was simple; nothing was easy.

There was a burning that began to assault Dick's eyes. He squeezed them shut; hoping to escape the heat that was threatening to bring forth the flood of tears from deep within his soul.

Well, whatever this weight on his body and soul was, it wasn't something he could control. He couldn't get out of bed, even if he wanted to – Slade would just have to deal with it. Dick couldn't even bring himself to care any more. He didn't feel like moving. He didn't feel like eating. He didn't feel like doing anything.

A hot bead slipped from his eye, sliding down the bridge of his nose.

ooOOOOOoo

September 26th, 2008. Friday, 7:52 am.

Wintergreen looked up at the clock on the wall, frowning slightly at the time. Normally the child would be out and about by now – he was running late this morning. The old man glanced down the hallway, just to check to see if the boy would be coming down the hall now.

It was empty.

"Slade, I'm worried about the child. He's not rising this morning," said Wintergreen, sounding concerned as he glanced back at Slade. "I knew you were too hard on him last night."

"He brought it upon himself," said Slade, sipping his morning coffee. "I warned him I wouldn't tolerate his poor behavior. This is the price he has to pay for his disobedience."

"Honestly, you need to be more gentle with him," chided Wintergreen, taking a seat at the table. "I'm sure if you were, he'd respond to that more. You catch more flies with honey, after all."

"I didn't ask for your advice," said Slade, looking at the old man over his mug; letting his mouth lift up to be seen through the opening in his mask. Wintergreen chuckled lightly, throwing Slade a very wry smirk.

"You never do, but since when has that ever stopped me?"

"Mmmm…"

Never indeed, old man…

"Slade, you really should listen to me, though," said Wintergreen, turning serious. "You tore away his identity; his safe haven. You shoved the fact that you knew who he was the entire time in his face. He must be very unhappy right now."

"Maybe if he wasn't rebellious, then this wouldn't have happened," said Slade, his tone dismissive and unfeeling. "He knows I don't play games."

"And just what would you do if you were in his position?" asked Wintergreen, smiling knowingly as he looked directly at Slade's masked face. There was a long pause before Slade let out an annoyed, yet tired sigh.

"I'd do exactly what he's been doing," answered Slade.

"Exactly, so this is normal. You really should be softer with him."

"Not going to happen," said Slade with a firm shake of his head. "If being hard on him isn't working, what makes you think going soft will?"

"I just understand the child better than you. I have a sense about these things," said Wintergreen, pouring himself a cup of coffee as well.

"Mmm, sure you do."

"I do, Slade; I really do. Why don't you go visit him this morning and try to cheer him up?"

"Cheer him up?" cried Slade, giving the man an incredulous raised eyebrow underneath his mask, even though it couldn't really be seen. "Have you gone mad?"

"I'm not angry," replied Wintergreen innocently.

"You know what I meant," growled Slade; getting annoyed at the old man's coy play.

"Come now, it's not that hard," said Wintergreen in playful, yet derisive tone. "Just go visit him and talk to him. Why not give him the day off, hm? Why don't you two do something fun together?"

"Now I know you're going mad. Deranged, completely deranged," drawled Slade with a smirk in his tone. "Do something fun together? What is this, girl scouts?"

"Oh, that's right. You don't know how to have fun," said Wintergreen, calmly bringing his mug to his mouth without a smirk on his mouth, although there was a single twitch at his lips. Slade raised his eyebrow again.

"Will, is that a challenge?"

"Was it? I wasn't aware that it was," replied Wintergreen.

"Oh, please, old man. You just love to play your games, don't you?"

"You know I don't respond positively to 'old man'," said Wintergreen with a light smile. He continued innocently, "I recall once that I might've accidently slipped too much starch into your laundry because I was so thoroughly affected by those two impish words."

"Is that a threat?"

"Perhaps…"

Slade let out a low laugh, shaking his head. "You are quite something, Will. What, I'll never know."

"Why don't you try to see how the child is doing, hm?" Wintergreen gave him an entreating look. He then added again with his innocent smile, "Would save me a trip. You know these old bones of mine… They're beginning to creak."

Slade smirked as he lowered the flap on his mask and stood up. "Oh, I know what those bones of yours creak with, Will," said Slade dryly, before turning away to walk down the hallway; leaving behind a chuckling Wintergreen.

Slade strode through the hallway, stopping for a moment in front of Dick's room; the label there being adjusted with the removal of the boy's mask.

Slade knew he was hard on the boy. But he had to be. The boy wasn't making it easy on himself. If he insisted on being so troublesome, then Slade had to set him straight. He had much to teach him. He had so much to offer in the realm of knowledge and power if the boy would only stop being so stubborn. This wasn't just for Slade's advantage – the boy would greatly benefit from his knowledge, from his wisdom. Dick would one day appreciate the effort that Slade was making on his behalf, of that Slade had no doubt.

After all, the boy was far too young and inexperienced to decide such things on his own. Slade had lived for many years, had seen many things, had passed through the River Styx and back – and lived to tell the tale about it. Slade knew exactly what he was doing with the boy's education.

Sure, his methods were a bit unconventional, but Dick was an extraordinary boy – he could handle it. It would make him far stronger than he could ever imagine. Yes, he would be thankful one day; Slade was sure of it – of course, once the boy got it out of his head that he was going to leave. Slade had to do what he had to for Dick to understand. It wasn't as if Slade wanted to beat the boy – but sometimes that was the only way to get through that thick head of his. It wasn't as if there was any other way to get Dick to submit. Once he accepted his fate, he would appreciate it and even relish in it.

Dick would see one day. Yes, definitely.

Slade opened the door slowly without knocking and stepped into the room. He was a bit surprised to see that Dick was still in bed. He had thought that the boy would be up, but resistant in coming out. The boy was curled up underneath the comforter close to the wall. His breathing was slow, but it quickened slightly at the sound of the door opening.

So, he was awake, but just lazing about in bed.

How irritating.

"You're late this morning, Dick. Get up," said Slade, trying to keep the annoyance he felt out of his tone. There was no stirring from the boy. He didn't even move or respond. He just continued to lie there in bed. Slade repressed a growl. He hated it when the boy was deliberately obstinate. Why did he always insist on doing things like this?

"Get up, Dick. Now," warned Slade.

There was still no answer; no movement from Dick.

Slade stepped to the bed and pulled the comforter off. Dick's pajama clad form appeared. His legs were curled halfway and he was clutching a pillow tightly. He barely even flinched when the blanket had been pulled off.

"Dick, I'm not going to tell you again," said Slade.

"Leave me alone, Slade," whispered Dick, his voice sounding low and choked.

"So, it talks," said Slade in a dry tone. "Get up, now."

"You just told me again," said Dick in a quiet voice. Fury pulsed through Slade's veins. He reached out and grabbed the boy by the wrist; forcing him to turn away from the wall. Dick was rolled onto his back, looking up at him. Slade stopped suddenly; unnerved by the look in the boy's eyes.

The normally dazzling blue eyes were darkened with listlessness. They held a glassless glaze as they stared into Slade's single eye. They appeared almost vacant. Slade could just feel the terrible depression the boy was under. He hadn't quite ever seen anything like it before. The boy's eyebrows were low and the apathetic expression flooded all throughout his face.

"Are you going to hit me?" asked Dick in a soft, low whisper; sounding almost disinterested in his question. Slade fought the need to swallow, feeling completely set off guard.

"I will if you do not obey me," said Slade.

"Do it, then. I'm not getting up," said Dick; his eyes unblinking. Slade raised his eyebrow at the short powerful, yet indifferent tone the boy was taking. Was the boy serious? How many beatings would it take for the message to sink in? The boy was intelligent, after all.

"Very well," said Slade, grabbing Dick's other wrist; pulling him forward to stand on his feet in front of Slade. The boy swayed slightly as he did so – almost seeming to have no strength in his body.

That got Slade a reaction: Dick's eyes widened slightly, but the reaction disappeared after a quick moment. Dick then closed his eyes and waited for the blow.

Slade complied with his expectations.

The boy whimpered softly as the punch connected with his stomach; doubling over from the impact. Slade pulled him upright before punching him again in the stomach. Dick let out a soft yelp at that. Slade pushed him back onto the bed; staring down at him with a cold eye. He ignored the stray tears that began to slip down the boy's cheeks.

"Now get up," snapped Slade. "I won't allow you to mope around all day. You can just study today, but stop this 'woe is me' crap you're pulling. Get up, get showered, get dressed, and get your butt in the kitchen within fifteen minutes or I'll come back and give you another reason to obey that you won't appreciate."

Slade turned away from Dick; walking to the door in two long strides before slamming it shut behind him. He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself down. He was furious at the boy. Just how much was that boy going to try his patience? When was he going to learn?

Slade walked to his room; unlocking the door before slipping inside. His room held a large queen size bed that was positioned in front of the door; a little more than a foot away from the side wall and a number of feet from the door. On the right of the bed was a computer station with an office chair. He walked straight to it and settled deep into the leather fabric. He took off his mask and sighed, leaning his head back.

He could hear the sound of a shower turning on to the back right of the room – a sign that Dick was on the move. Good. The boy was obeying him. Why couldn't he have just done that before Slade had beaten him? Why couldn't he get it through that thick skull of his? It had been two weeks; fifteen days now. Dick was sharp as a whip; brilliant in all his studies. What was so hard about obedience?

There was a knock at his door before it opened slowly.

"Slade, I wish to speak to you," said Wintergreen, slipping into the room.

"What is it, Will? Now's not a good time," said Slade, tiredly rubbing a hand over his face.

"This can't wait any longer, I'm afraid," said Wintergreen, coming to stand right next to Slade. The younger man sighed deeply before turning to look up at Wintergreen.

"All right. What is it, then?"

"It's about Richard."

"What about him?"

"You're too rough with him."

"Oh, this again," said Slade, sighing dismissively. "Will, we just talked about this. You know what I'm trying to do with him."

"I do know. But I still think you're too hard on him. It's affecting him, if only you—"

"It's his fault for being stubborn," snapped Slade. "He only does it to himself. If he only submitted and obeyed, then he wouldn't get beaten so many times. It's not that hard."

"You can't treat a child like this!" cried Wintergreen. "I just saw him before he went to the shower. He looks like death itself! What on earth did you say to that child? I told you to be soft this morning. He's going to break eventually – inside and out. You need to soften your approach with the boy."

"I don't need to do any such thing!" snarled Slade.

"Yes, you do!" retorted Wintergreen, unaffected and not backing down. "Would you have beaten Grant? Of course not! Just because he looks like Grant doesn't mean—"

"He's not Grant!" shouted Slade venomously. He grounded his teeth furiously. How dare the old man bring up Grant. How dare he bring up old wounds. That had nothing to do with the now; the present. The old fool should just leave well enough alone.

"No, he is not," nodded Wintergreen. "But he is a boy whom you are trying to train as your apprentice like you did with Grant. You need to think!"

"Get out."

"Slade… Please, if you'd only listen to me—"

"Get out!"

Wintergreen glared at Slade for a few long, quiet moments. Then, with a grudging sigh, he turned away. There was silence as he walked to the door. Before leaving the room, he stopped at the doorway.

"Did you think that his eyes would be so blue?" asked Wintergreen in a whisper.

A soft quiet laced through the air.

"No," murmured Slade with a sigh, after a long moment.

"Such stunning blue eyes, don't you think?" said Wintergreen softly in a very gentle voice. "Filled with hope, promise, love, kindness, desire, fire – so much in those two orbs; so much to offer, it's really quite amazing. Don't you think so?"

With that, Wintergreen left the room silently. Slade turned to the glowing computer screen that lightened the darkened room. He gazed at it, not really setting his eyes on anything in particular.

"Like gemstones," murmured Slade.

ooOOOOOoo

Next Time: Chapter Sixteen: A Special Gift – After his bout of depression, Dick discovers a very precious gift…

Author's Notes: Haha, first time we hear Grant's name.(First time Slade POV, too) You should know that I'm doing a slight revamping of Slade's family. Not much, but some physical things. Joseph is actually unchanged, but Grant will look more like his mother. There's other things, but I'm not gonna spoil it because it's part of the plot! HEHE!

Not to mention, I changed Slade's age… He'd be in his seventies if I followed canon and that's just… *shudders* TOO OLD. You'll find out his exact age later. ^^

Thanks for reading! Next update will be on Monday! See ya next time! Reviews = love and ideas! ^.^