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sladesapprentice · 26 days

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The Presence In Your Silence

Chapter 1 - The Haunt

“It’s over, Slade.”

“On the contrary, Robin. This is only the beginning.”

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A/N: So... I haven't written anything in forever, but I felt compelled to write the most self indulgent apprentice!dick grayson whump fic in all of history. You can expect all the goodies: Manipulation, noncon drugging, stockholm syndrome, dealing with the aftermath of Catalina (which i never got over). I'll try to update on a weekly basis and when i get my ao3 account set up, i'll be posting there too. In the meanwhile, I hope you enjoy! PS: English is my second language, be nice :P

Word Count: 1750

Chapter warnings: Mentions of domestic violence, very brief mentions of rape as seen in Nightwing comic Vol 2 Issue 93, panic attack, Bruce Wayne's A+ parenting, seriously, this ain't your momma's Bruce.

2:38AM.

Early morning and silence.

On many occasions, Richard Grayson’s life had been defined by silence. The silence that reigned after his parents fell, the silence of his adoptive father after striking him, the silence of the night after Catalina…

Before Dick can think too much about it, he looks down at his watch, contemplating how much longer he should wait before leaving the Titan Tower. He settles on ten more minutes. It should be enough to sneak out without any of the Titans noticing, especially Beastboy with his horrendous sleep habits. Though Dick can’t exactly judge. His search for Slade lately has been relentless, bordering on obsession (again) according to Victor, and it’s been impacting his sleep more than he’d like to admit.

It’s been a little while since Dick has been back with the Titans, assisting them with certain missions, though still keeping his independence as Nightwing. What brought Dick back was Victor's request to help with a mission involving assassination, though Victor had begun to regret ever calling Grayson in once Dick started theorizing that it was Slade. Victor thought that Dick as grew into Nightwing, the boy had become more stable, more rational, but he quickly realized that was not the case. Dick’s obsession with Slade never went away, and Victor asking him to help the Titans was just fuel to an old fire.

The minutes pass by slowly, Dick tries to distract himself by checking if everything in his utility belt is in place. Patience has never been his strongest trait, especially when free time means time to reminisce on the past. Before he can help himself, he starts to think about Bruce. His adoptive father was once someone he looked up to, but with time, Dick had begun to see the past Bruce’s carefully crafted façade.

It hurt, to slowly come to the realization that someone who you once looked up to was a hypocrite, to realize that Bruce wasn’t as interested in being honorable as he was in being seen as honorable. Dick often questioned himself, wondering if he was the same, wondering if he fought for others or if he actually fought for himself, for the selfish right to demand respect for being a supposed man of morals. He wondered if he would ever act as Bruce did once no one was looking. Against his better judgment, Dick starts to replay one of his old fights with Bruce, back when he was still Robin and desperately clinging onto that persona.

“You can’t take Robin away from me!” Dick said desperately, hands balling into fists so Bruce wouldn’t see them shake.

“You don’t get a say in this anymore. It’s for your own good.”

“My own good? Were you thinking about what’s good for me when you let me turn into a vigilante at twelve?”

Dick didn’t expect the slap, though he should have, and when it hit, it nearly brought him to his knees. He knew Bruce had been criticized plentifully over letting Dick become Robin, and rusing that against him was apparently not the best idea. Especially when they both knew that Dick would end up becoming Robin whether Bruce let him or not. The silence after the slap had been long. Dick kept his eyes on the ground, incredulous, before slowly lifting his gaze to meet Bruce’s.

“You promised that wouldn’t happen again.” He said in the smallest of voices, his eyes watering. Bruce didn’t bother excusing his actions, he simply stared at Robin with that stone cold expression he always wore. Dick wished he would just say sorry, just once, just something other than Bruce’s silent self loathing. Eventually, Dick revealed what he had been thinking about for a long time.

“I’m leaving.” He said.

He took the time to explain why, to explain that he couldn’t do this anymore, but Bruce said nothing. When Dick got tired of the silence and turned to leave, Bruce finally spoke up.

“If you go through that door, don’t come back.” The words froze Dick in his tracks. It was worse than any slap he received through the years, but maybe that ultimatum was what he needed to be sure he couldn’t stay anymore.

So, he did the only thing he could.

He left.

Dick tries to shake the memory away, chastising himself for reminiscing on things he’d rather leave buried. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out the note that had been found on his bed hours ago.

Meet me at the place you never left. -S

He hadn’t told any of the Titans of this note. After Slade left Jump City years ago, the Titans accepted that he was no longer their problem. Dick was sure they'd probably brush the note off as a harmless taunt on his obsession, which Slade was very fond of. At least that's what Dick tells himself to excuse the fact that he's keeping secrets. He puts the note back into his pocket and makes his way out of the Titan Tower, heading for the Jump City’s old industrial sector.

Amongst the abandoned buildings, the Haunt stands tall, just as menacing as he remembers. Memories start to flood as he slips into the dark building.

“It’s over, Slade.” He once said, after first discovering the location of Slade's lair.

Using a flashlight, Dick scans the surroundings, senses on high alert, but it seems truly abandoned. No sign of life. That is, until Dick feels someone walk behind him. In a flash, he grabs the person sneaking up on him, throws them against a wall, and presses a knife to their throat. Dick only realizes who it is when lifts his flashlight and illuminates the person’s face. Starfire breathes heavy under the weight the blade, trying to process the fact that Dick isn't fighting with his usual escrima sticks.

“You wish to harm me, friend?” She eventually whispers. Dick’s eyes widen before VIctor appears behind her, his presence snapping Dick into action, making him lower the knife and distance himself from Starfire.

“What are you doing?!” Victor asks firmly.

“What do you think?” He can’t help but answer confrontationally.

“Nightwing.” Starfire tries to keep Dick’s focus on her, sensing Victor’s frustration from afar. “We have spoken about this. This is not good for you. Slade is gone, he is no longer. You must let go.”

“Let go? Let go?! YOU EXPECT ME TO LET GO? AFTER EVERYTHING HE’S DONE TO ME?”

“Robin. Please don’t yell.” She whispers, vulnerability clear in her eyes.

“I’m not Robin anymore…” Dick lowers his voice. “And there’s no letting go, Starfire.”

"You said Batman has become responsible for dealing with Slade, right? Leave it to him." Victor argues.

“Ro- Nightwing. I’m asking. If not for yourself, then for us, for the team. I fear for you, my friend. Please… Let this go.”

Dick frowns and casts his gaze downwards. He could tell them about the note, could show them proof that he was being messed with. But a little voice in his head that sounds like Slade whispers ‘would they even care?’ So he lets silence permeate, and it's enough for them to understand he has no intention of ever letting go.

“You’d really choose your obsession over us? Over your family?” Victor asks in disbelief. Dick doesn’t speak. Slade is the reason he doesn’t feel safe with anyone to begin with, is the reason for his nightmares and paranoia. But he’s also the one thing Dick can fixate on long enough so that other things such as Catalina won’t come to mind instead.

“I’m done with you, Nightwing.” Victor sighs. “You have a choice, you either come home with us right now or you go back to Blüdhaven when you’re done chasing ghosts.”

“What?”

“You heard me. If you won’t get this obsession under control, then you have no place at our side.”

Another ultimatum. Another moment of silence. Another choice.

“Nightwing?” Starfire searches his gaze, wishing he would look her in the eyes.

“Leave.” Dick’s voice hardens. Cyborg’s expression turns into one of surprise, as if he didn’t actually expect Dick to make this decision.

“Nightwing!?” Starfire insists.

“LEAVE!” Dick finally looks her in the eyes as he yells a bit harder than he means. Starfire flinches, and the sight of it makes his stomach turn. She nods in acceptance and slowly turns her back. Victor looks at Dick with disappointment before leaving with her.

“It’s over, Slade.”

“On the contrary, Robin. This is only the beginning.”

Dick’s swallows down the tension in his throat before he ventures deeper into the Haunt. He eventually finds the trapdoor that leads to the underground level of the building. He descends the stairs and inspects the place, eventually coming across the old monitor room where Slade would watch over the Titans vitals while they were contaminated with his nanoscopic probes. But once again, no sign of Slade anywhere. Dick lets out a long breath he didn’t realize he was holding. He places his hands on the control panel before dropping his head.

What the hell was he doing? As he tries to figure that out, his gaze drifts onto the chair nearby. Something was on the seat, he realizes.

A photograph.

Upon closer inspection, it reveals to be a photo of him and Bruce as civilians, standing in front of Wayne Manor shortly after Dick’s adoption. His breathe quickens because what the fuck is this doing in the Haunt? Turning the photograph around, Dick reads a short message written on the back.

Why won’t you go home, little bird?

He… knows.

Slade knows.

Dick starts to breathe fast, eyes widening as fear spreads throughout his body. He looks around, almost expecting Slade to be behind him, ready to rub the knowledge in his face, but no one’s there.

No. No no no no no.

Frustration and panic builds and builds until Dick crushes the photograph in his fist. Dropping it, he runs shaky hands through his hair, pulling at the roots. He starts walking in circles, desperation climbing up his throat until he finally snaps. He grabs the chair and tosses it onto the large screen in front of him, causing it to shatter.

“WHERE ARE YOU?” He screams so hard his vocal cords hurt. His voice echoes through the empty room but there’s no response. “SLADE!?!”

From the warmth of his safehouse in Blüdhaven, Slade smiles, watching Dick spiral into a panic attack.

“I'm right here, little bird. Right here.”

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