Chapter Text
There's light coming in through the window. He should be asleep.
Pushing away from the desk, Robin reached over to close his laptop. Take any other day in the year; his crime log would have been filled with nothing but notes, dates, and names. Instead, all that's left staring back at him is his own reflection and a blinking cursor.
Frowing, he closed the laptop with a small thud.
It's been a month since the dust happened. A whole month since he almost... Robin's head dropped into his hands, fingers rubbing circles onto his temples.
When the time comes, he likes to imagine it would be during some final battle: Fighting on some imaginary front line, giving everything he's got to protect the ones he loves. Instead, the day he was closest to death was spent in a paranoid spiral; becoming the very threat he'd spent so long trying to protect his friends from. He winced, a spike of pain shooting up to the top of his skull.
Just what was it about Slade that he could not get away from?
He can't terrorize the city anymore. He can't threaten his friends anymore.
The man is dead.
Taking a deep breath, Robin stood, his chair scrapping against the concrete. Walking towards a makeshift cot in the corner, he crouched, reaching for something under it. After Pushing several containers out of the way, he dragged out a large cardboard box. Placing it onto the mattress, He bit his lip.
Scribbled onto masking tape, the top of the box was labeled "The Slade case".
Peeling off the lid, Robin began flipping through articles and police reports- and there, sandwiched between a defunct military file and a medical exam, was a small cut out of a black and white photo. It was old and blurry, taken some years before the Titans established themselves, and it was surprisingly the best shot of Slade they had. In it, he was running on a rooftop, flashes of bright light behind him.
"Guess you weren't as infallible as you thought you were."
Dropping onto the thin mattress, Robin held up the photo. He squinted his eyes, searching for something he couldn't quite place his finger on.
The man was well beyond capable of killing and robbing anyone he wanted to. He didn't need the Sladebots. He didn't need anyone.
So why an apprentice?
There was no power he could have gained, no money he could have earned training someone else. All that Slade's mentorship reaped was nothing but a black hole that sucked in valuable resources and precious time.
It wasn't like Slade wasn't smart enough to see how the plan wouldn't follow through. He knew blackmail wouldn't be enough right from the very start. He knew on some level, Robin had to enjoy what he was doing. It was, honestly, one of the most delusional plans he's ever foiled. Why not take in a Hive student? They were already ready and willing to do anything he'd ask. Why make things harder and choose someone who'd resist? What did Robin possess that he needed to control so badly? What more could a powerful man even want?
"Who knows? I might even become like a father to you."
Robin winced, pressing a hand to his eye. Leaving the photo on the cot, he sat up and moved toward his desk.
Blindly feeling the top of the desk and down to the second drawer, Robin pulled it open, grasping what he was sure was a bottle of pain pills. Reluctantly lifting the pressure off of his eye, Robin twisted off the cap. Pill in hand, he pressed it to his mouth. He knows he shouldn’t, but Robin swallows the pill dry anyway. He sighed, twisting the cap back on. There was no reason for him to be thinking about Slade.
The man is dead.
Tossing the pill bottle into the drawer, Robin turned to the cot, staring at the photo. Even if he were to strip the man of every secret and lie, he doesn't think he'll ever understand Slade. Much less understand why he wants to.
Weary, Robin closed his eyes.
" Excellent work, Robin. You're doing tremendously better than I thought you would."
He doesn't get why the compliment stuck with him. Only knowing that genuine praise from Slade was few and far between.
Even now, it scared Robin how easily he fell back into obsessive habits. It was almost as if he missed-
The paper beneath his hands quickly began to crumble.
One year ago...
It's been 3 days since his apprenticeship began. And Robin already hates it.
"You're not even trying. Again."
Robin breathed heavily, his hands shaking. They've been sparing for hours, and any honest attempt to land a decent hit now would be absurd. And Slade knew it.
"I don't recall you having hearing damage. Do you want me to repeat it slower this time? Again."
Gritting his teeth, Robin took a deep breath. Despite all the pretenses, he knew exactly what this exercise was for; domination. It wasn't enough for Slade to have a button capable of killing everyone he cared about. No, the man had to pour salt in the wound just to dive home a point Robin figured the day his life fell apart. Briskly, he wiped the sweat off his brows.
With eight years under his belt, Robin knew, intimately, just how sloppy larger opponents got taking his size and age for granted. How often they expected him to shrink back and waiver. It was frustrating as hell, but who was Robin to complain when his opponent gave him an advantage; opting for intimidation and venturing closer, rather than give themselves space.
Slade was no different.
Standing only a few feet away, arms crossed, he was close enough that Robin could simply step forward and pocket the trigger. And, if he was quick enough, smash the remote before Slade could even register it being out of his own hands.
Robin smiled.
Forgoing a proper fighting stance, Robin pounced. Pulling his right fist as if to go for a punch, Robin quickly altered course and ducked under Slade's arm. Fingers caging in on the remote, Robin's heart sped up wildly. Chew on that, you bastard-
A large hand somehow wrapped itself around Robin's wrist. Twisting his arm painfully, Slade threw him to the ground, his shoulder blade slamming hard against metal.
Finding himself on his back, Robin gulped for air. How did he-? Behind him, the resonance of Slade's stride grew louder and louder. He groaned, forcing himself to roll over as a steel boot blocked his vision. "That was reckless and poorly planned, Robin. Which is why you need my guidance."
Slade walked away, hands behind his back.
"Again."
Robin's fist slammed against the floor. "Fuck you!"
The man paused, casting a meaningful glance at Robin, "What did you say?"
It was such a simple phrase. But something in the way he had nearly whispered it, made Robin's skin crawl. Placing the trigger within view, his one eye narrowed. "Come on, I wanna hear what you have to say."
Robin stood up, any biting retort dying in his throat. "Don't hurt them."
Slade turned towards him, stalking forward. "That's not what you said before. Try again." His thumb lightly brushed the button.
Leaning into his face, the mask breathed, "Say it."
" Fuck y-"
A sudden sharp pain exploded against Robin's cheek, the force of the hit causing him to stagger.
Did Slade just...?
Slowly, he looked back at Slade, the red mark on his cheek fading. The man only stood there impassively, his outstretched arm coming down to his side.
"Go to your room."
It was a quiet walk.
The seamless door opened, Robin's tired body slumping through. One day, Slade will let his guard down. Slade will make a mistake. He was only human and, if it took days or weeks, so be it. Robin will get himself free.
Slade said he had been preparing this "Apprenticeship" for a long time now- and judging by the furniture bolted to the floor, and the numerous uniforms lining the closet, he wasn't bluffing. Robin eyed the bed in the corner. How long did he have to sleep here?
Taking a seat on the mattress, Robin gingerly touched the swelling on his cheek. How long would it be until he was home?
The door hissed open. Robin's breath hitched.
Leaping off the bed, Robin whipped towards Slade. A single eye only stared back impassively, handing him an ice packet and a towel. Robin hesitated. "For the bruise. I must admit what I did was... unnecessary. If that's any consolation to you."
Holding the items in his hands, Robin frowned.
Slade turned to the doorway and sighed. "I don't expect you'll get used to staying here anytime soon. But, please, do try."
The door slid closed.
Squeezing, the ice pack in his hand busted, dribbling stinging coolant all over his arm and onto the floor.
With a shout, Robin hurled it at the wall.
No matter what it takes, he's going home.