A fanfic written a few years ago that was found and the author wanted to share it here. FoxTheWriter is an alter in this system.
Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Teen Titans - All Media Types
Dick Grayson & Slade Wilson & William Randolph Wintergreen
Dick Grayson & Slade Wilson
William Randolph Wintergreen
Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Richard was prepared to die. Slade saved him.
Richard sighed. He walked across the street, along side walks. His black bangs fell into his crystal blue eyes. He pushed his bangs behind his ear and shoved his hand back into his hoodie pocket. He could see puffs of air when he breathed. He shivered. Perhaps a hoodie and jeans wasn't really winter clothes but he didn't have anything else. All his other clothes...Well, they weren't his.
Richard stumbled back as something hard slammed into his shoulder, he glared at the person who just continued to walk by as if nothing happened. His shoulder ached. His steps were shaky but he forced himself to keep one foot in front of the other. Put one foot in front of the other. Good. Again. Step forward. One more step. Keep going. His stomach ached, his lungs burned as cold air was sucked in through his nose but the air around wasn't warm so of course what he breathed in wasn't going to help in making him any less cold. His body was tired. He felt heavy. His eyes felt so heavy, like someone had hung weights off his eyelids. His body swayed as he continued to walk, he was sure any moment he would collapse. He smiled softly, bitterly. He would die here, on the streets, like a starving dog. His hands were numb, trembling. His body was so heavy. Snow had fallen into his black lashes, and as he blinked, he couldn't even feel the snow flakes on his face. He was sure his nose was red.
He stopped, looking around. People that were bundled up appropriately for the weather walked alone or with someone else. He watched as some smiled, snuggling against their partner. Other laughed. Others looked grave, heads bowed like Richard as they trudged on.
He slipped back into an alley, leaning against the cold hard wall. He leaned his head back, his eyes closed. This seemed like a better place. Less air got in through the alley due to the buildings. His legs shook, struggling to hold his weight. He shuddered, he wanted to scream, wanted to cry, but at the same time, he just wanted to curl up somewhere dark and just let the snow bury him. Just let the cold slowly take him away, nothing but another candle being blown out in the dark of the night.
He heard footsteps coming toward him. Would this person rob him? He had nothing to give. Would they beat because of that? He hoped not. He was tired of pain. His body hurt. Sharp aching pain slicing through his stomach from hunger, and his lungs burned from the cold he breathed in. His body was trembling uncontrollably, his hands trembling so much he could hardly keep them still. Everything was heavy. So heavy. He waited until they stopped then he opened his eyes. The person didn't move for a moment. Richard kept his gaze on the grey fluffy sky above.
The sound of feet scuffing on ground sounded and soon Richard had a friend that was leaning on the wall as he was, their head also leant up against it. Richard didn't move, nor did he speak, he simply blinked, waiting on the new addition to the alleyway to make a move or say something.
"Are you looking for something?" A deep voice asked from his side. He smiled lightly, that question was an odd one but nice for some reason Richard didn't understand. "No."
A soft hum. Minutes passed and the person sighed. "It's cold."
Richard snorted. "Yeah." Trust him, he knew how cold it was. The cold burned his lungs with every breath. A sharp stinging that felt like someone was trying to scoop his insides out from his open gaping wound.
That made the boy lean his head normally, tilting it toward the person. "Does it look like I'm dressed properly to live here?" He wanted this person to leave. He wanted to be alone. At the same time, he wanted the person to stay. He didn't want to die alone, not deep down, but another part of him told him to leave, to go somewhere without people around and curl up, and just wait. Everything seemed so foggy.
The person, a large man with pale skin, grey eyes, and white mustache wearing a thick grey jacket and black pants with boots turned slightly so that he was leaning on the wall causally as his eyes raked over the boys small form. "No."
Richard hummed and sighed, shivering. The man cocked an eyebrow. "Cold?"
Richard wanted to scream, to grab his shirt and haul it up, to gesture to his small slim boney pale ribs that jutted from under scarred skin under his jacket, but just sighed. "Absolutely."
The man chuckled. "Where is your home?"
He wanted to punch the man for asking that. He didn't want to think of that. He wanted to think of nothing when the time came. Gods, his legs felt so weak. They trembled like weak branches in the heavy strong wind. "Don't have one."
"You should've dressed better if you were gonna make this your home. You won't survive the night."
Richard nodded. "I know." He wasn't planning on surviving. If he was, he'd find a way. Maybe. Did the man not know when someone had given up?
Richard blinked. What a strange thing to ask. Why in the world would he ask such a thing? Why hadn't this man robbed or beaten him yet? Even if he was a large man, he had to be cold as well, right? Why waste time talking to a no good street rat like Richard? This man was weird. "Coco?" The man nodded, pushing himself away from the wall and standing tall. "Hot chocolate." The man said that as if he was talking to a uncertain child, one that he didn't know would throw a tantrum at any given moment. Richard wanted to growl, wanted to throw a fit, but that seemed like to much of an effort. Richard nodded. The man pursed his lips slightly. "I know a place that serves coffee, hot coco, etc if you'd be interested?"
Richard knew he shouldn't accept offers from strangers but he was gonna die anyway so why not? Might as well have a last drink before right? He nodded and the man turned, Richard following. Why was he doing this? Why was he following a man to get hot coco of all things? If the man was truly going to give him that and not stab him around the corner or sell him off to some gang.
The wind blew, cold cutting into the boys bones. He shivered, closing his eyes against the snow that stung his eyes. The wind blew so hard, it made Richard stumble, almost fall. Was it that the wind was blowing so hard, or was it that the boy was simply so weak? He didn't know. He didn't care. He ducked his head, hiding his mouth and nose in his hoodie. He breathed and cold air blew down his chest and stomach, tickling his skin and making his teeth set on edge. He rubbed the hoodie more up onto his nose. He felt eyes on him. He glanced up and saw the man gazing at him from over a broad shoulder. Richard dropped his eyes, the wind hopefully cutting off his growl to the man's ears.
The man stopped as they walked up to a brightly lit small shop. He stepped to the side and opened the door, Richard kept his head bowed as he ducked into the small shop, cut to the side so the man could get in and waited as the man stepped in, closing the door behind him. Richard waited until the man started walking then followed behind him, a few steps behind out of respect and just in case he needed to run. He scanned the room, there was only one other person there. Was this the man this man was going to sell him to? Were they gonna beat him to death? He wanted to just go. He wanted to lay down, go to sleep, and just...stop existing. Was that to much to ask?
"Slade!" A booming happy voice sounded. Richard let the hoodie fall from his nose and mouth as they stopped at a large table where a man in a oversized yellow sweatshirt stood behind the table, his hand holding a glass cup while the other was covered with a cloth, washing the inside of the cup. The man had shoulder length black hair, blue eyes, dark skin, and a large smile. The man was built like the one who had led him here, like a hulk.
The man, Slade apparently, nodded to the bartender and sat down on the one of the wooden chairs, gesturing to a chair beside him which Richard immediately took. Richard kept his hands in his hoodie pocket, rubbing them together. He liked this place. The table the yellow hooded man stood behind was a light brown wood like the chairs. It was simple. The lights were bright but not blinding. Warm. Inviting. There was two lights near the window, one in the middle of the small shop, and one hanging over the top of the place the bartender stood. Small tables were placed throughout the shop, fours chairs around each table. The floor was also made of light brown wood.
Richard wanted to slump on the bar, wanted to curl up on himself, but kept his head down and his body small looking, not that that was that much of a stretch. He was small, strong yes...or he used to be strong. Now he was just skin and bone.
Coco, huh? That slang for drugs? Were these two men gonna get him drugged up and sell him off so he wouldn't fight as much? Tch. Morons. He was done fighting. He hadn't fought in...a year now? Two? He didn't even know. Time ran together after a while. He had begun to, after a while, not be able to time what day was what they ran into each other so much. Soon, a week, a month had passed and he didn't know. He didn't really care. For what it was worth, if these men did try to sell him off, he would fight. He didn't want to, he wanted to just go off and let the wind and snow take it's rightful claim, but he wanted to go on his terms, on his choice, he wanted his final act to be his, and his alone. If he had to fight, he would fight with all his thin body had in it, and if he died while fighting, ah well. He tried his best at least. He sighed.
Why couldn't the wind just sweep him away like fallen snow?
The yellow hooded man, Victor, snorted, narrowing his blue eyes at Slade before turning his eyes to Richard. "And who are you? Did Slade kidnap you?"
Richard blinked. Was this man known for kidnapping kids? He shook his head. Slade growled, Victor's attention going back to him. "How dare you!"
Victor chuckled, rasing his hands, the cloth and glass in both. "Calm down, old man. Just teasin'. Didn't know ya were a man of such simple tastes."
Slade ran a hand over his face, glaring at Victor as his hand fell on the table with a thud. "Just get the damn coco."
Richard had watched the hand fall. How large that hand was. How much power it held. It could snap Richards neck swiftly with little effort.
Victor laughed, nodding and turned, walking away and soon to a door where he entered, leaving Richard and Slade alone.
Richard glanced at the man, taking in his features as he soaked in the warmth of the shop. "It's rude to stare, you know." Richard's eyes snapped to grey ones then dropped to his own lap as he turned away. "Sorry."
Victor returned with two steaming mugs of coco and placed them in front of the two males, each on a coaster. Richard smiled, his fingers curling around the mugs handle as he lifted the sweet drink closer to him. It took some effort for him to curl his trembling fingers but soon he did. He could faintly feel the handle under his skin. Warm steam hit his face and he sighed, closing his eyes and enjoying the warmth as it heated his red nose. His skin felt like skin should as feeling came back into his body from the inside out as the warm liquid slid down his throat into his stomach.
Slade smiled into his own cup. The boy looked to be slightly better. At least in better spirits. The man wanted to buy a bunch of food and make the boy eat it, hell, he didn't think he'd need to make him, he'd probably pounce on any food put in front of him, but Slade knew he couldn't do that. The boy probably wouldn't trust him. If he was smart that is. Slade didn't know if the boy was simply desperate or dumb or both, but he had to be one or both to have followed Slade here. Slade could've done anything to the boy! Didn't the boys parents teach him to not talk to strangers? Or follow them? Or get into a car when offered candy? Or in Slades case, hot coco. No car but even so, the outcome could've turned out much differently should Slade had the desire to hurt the boy in such ways many people in Gotham would want to harm a boy.
Slade sighed. He needed to know this boys name. It wasn't right to keep referring to him as 'the boy'. Even if it was only to himself. He sat his cup down and Victor flashed him a smile which Slade ignored in favor of turning his attention to the boy. "What's your name?"
The boy opened his bright blue eyes and turned them to meet a steely grey. The two stated at each other for a few minutes before Victor coughed, making the boy turn his eyes to the large man who smiled. "I'm Victor."
The boy raised an eyebrow as if to say 'duh? I know!' but he nodded then turned to Slade. Slade waited. The boy said nothing, simply staring as Slade stared back. "Slade."
"What?" The boy asked, cocking his head to the side like a puppy.
The boy turned it over in his mind a few minutes before sniffing. "That's a weird name."
"Can't be any weirder than yours."
The boy narrowed his eyes. "Mines Richard. It's not weird."
Slade smiled. "Well, it's nice to meet you, Richard."
Richard blinked, his face turning to one of anger as he realized he'd been tricked. "You manipulated me!"
Slade smirked. "How's the coco?"
Richard deflated into his seat, his hands curling around the cup again, his face falling into one of calm. "It's good."
Slade nodded, turning back to his coco. "Good."
Slade and Richard sat there sipping there coco until each cup had been filled more than once. "Hungry?" Slade asked, hoping the boy would be happy enough with the coco to let the man feed him. Richard hummed then nodded. He looked like he'd fall asleep any moment. Slade eyed his thin hands as they wrapped around the cup. Thin, boney. He wondered if the boys whole body was like that. Boney. Starved. Slade wanted to growl but held it back. Richard nodded. "Sure. Why not?"
Slade was glad the boy- Richard- would accept his help but he also wanted to scold him for being so trusting. Richard was lucky Slade didn't want to hurt him. Slade stood and left the place after paying Victor, Richard following silently behind him. Soon, the two were sitting at a small diner with small ham and cheese sandwiches, a bowl of chili for each, and water.
Richard ate like a starved puppy. It broke Slades heart. Slade wanted to find and beat who ever had allowed Richard to be on his own and wind up in this state. Slade wasn't stupid. He knew homeless kids were common in Gotham but it still bothered him, mostly when he got involved with one and saw the damage first hand. He didn't do that mostly but for some strange reason he felt drawn to the lonely boy leaning in an alley.
Richard finished his meal a few minutes before Slade. The black haired boy leaned back in his chair, a satisfied smile on his lips. Slade smirked. "Full?" Richard nodded sleepily. "Got a place to go?"
"Want to stay the night with me?"
Richard opened his eyes to gaze at the man. His eyes flashed between sadness, fear, sleepiness, and more Slade couldn't tell. A few minutes passed as the two stared at each other before Richard nodded. Slade stood and threw their empty bowls and plastic cups of water away, paying for the meal, and leading the boy to his apartment where he was staying for his temporary vacation in Gotham.
Slade closed the apartment door and locked it. Richard slowly walked down the small hall that lead into the combined living room kitchen and peered around like a cat put in a new home. Slade turned and watched the boy as he slowly took in his surroundings then those blue eyes turned to meet a grey one. Richard walked back to Slade and leaned in close to the man's chest, laying his head on the man's stomach. Slade stiffened, uncomfortable. He stepped back and Richard opened his eyes he had closed, cocking his head, his eyebrows drawn together in confusion.
"What was that?" Slade asked, scared the boy would think Slade wanted some of kind of payment for letting him stay here. Was that normal for the boy? Was he a...? The boy blinked. "I was saying thank you."
Slade wanted to puke if he thought where that was going was true. "H-How do you normally say thank you?" He dared to ask. He was scared of the answer. Richard smiled, walking toward Slade who held up a hand. "Please, just tell me. N-No need to s-show me..."
Richard stopped, seeming more confused. "A person says thank you by laying there head on the person's stomach and listening to their heartbeat, to show that they respect the person's life by listening to what makes them keep living- the heart."
Slade was taken aback at how odd and kind of beautiful that was. Much less gross than he thought. He was slightly ashamed at jumping to the conclusion he had. He was still wary a bit. "Is that all?"
Richard shook his head. Slade hoped this didn't take a turn way down the rabbit hole that he was assuming.
"After a minute of that, the person saying thank you takes the others hand and places it on their cheek while doing the same for the other, the symbolize the connection between the two as two souls that live together in this world. If the person getting thanks accepts the thank you, they will lay their hand over the heart of the one saying thank you to show that they respect the one saying thank you. That's it."
Oh. That wasn't bad at all. Weird, for sure, but not what Slade had feared. Where had Richard learnt this odd way of saying thank you? Richard looked uncomfortable. Slade sighed and stepped forward. Richard smiled like a light bulb as he placed his head to Slades stomach for a few heartbeats then stepped back. Slade kneeled and Richard placed his hand on Slades cheek, Slade mirroring him. The two stared into each other eyes for a moment before Slade gently laid his hand over Richards heart, feeling the steady thump thump of the small organ under his palm. It was weird but nice in a way Slade couldn't understand. The tiny hand fell from Slades cheek and Slade removed his hands, standing up to his full height once more.
Richard stepped back, turning to gaze around the room.
"Would you like to sleep on the couch? I don't have an extra bed..."
Richard turned to Slade and shrugged. "Sure." He went to move toward Slade again, to lay his head on his stomach again, but Slade stepped back, holding his hands up. Richard looked annoyed, offended. "You don't have to do that every time to say thank you. Just say thank you. I will say your welcome. I promise I respect you as a person and accept your thanks."
Richard glared at the man.
Slade sighed. They did the ritual once more then Slade went to shower.
Richard sighed as he sat on the floor of the apartment. Today had certainly taken a turn. This morning he was sure he was going to die. He wanted to. Now, he had a full tummy and a roof over his head. The water turned off and after a few minutes, Slade stepped out in a pair of grey jogging pants and a white tank top. He was toweling off his white hair as Richard watched, curious.
Slade felt eyes on him. He opened his own and saw that Richard was laying on the floor like a cat, watching him intently. That gaze, sharp and focused, unnerved Slade. Why would such a young boy have such an intense gaze? Slade was surprised when Richard rolled forward, his entire body rolling with him into a ball and he came to roll from his back, into a ball, to his feet. He stood and walked over to Slade. Slade was sure Richard had hurt his spine.
Slade paused toweling his hair. "What?"
Richard pointed his finger toward Slades face. "Your hair."
"A story for another time."
Slade chuckled. "Not all are."
Richard cocked his head as Slade moved past. "Why do you cover your eye?"
"It's not there anymore so it would be odd to leave it for everyone to see."
Richard gasped, running after Slade as the man took a seat on the couch. Richard hopped up beside him, sitting cross legged, his blue eyes wide. "Your eye isn't there?" He asked as if it was the oddest thing in the world. "No."
"A story for another time."
"Does this story not have a good ending?"
"I got away, so that's good I guess."
"Yes, I suppose it is." Slade jumped as a loud ringing sounded through the air. Richard's head jerked toward the sound, his eyes darting around. "What is that?" He sounded scared. "My phone. It's okay."
Richard cocked his head again. Slade stood and soon came back to his small companion with his phone at his ear. "Hello?"
"Hello." Richard and Will said at the same time. Slade chuckled. "Slade? Who was that?"
"That was Richard, Will."
"Will I what?" Richard asked.
Slade chuckled again, taking his phone and putting it on speakerphone. "Richard?" Will asked, his voice sounding throughout the air. Richard jumped, staring at the phone in bewilderment, fear and wonder. "Y-Yes?"
"Hello there. I am William Wintergreen."
Richard looked at Slade then back to the phone. "Hello, William Wintergreen. Are you a ghost? Are you trapped in that box called a phone?"
Slade and Will chuckled. Richard glared at the phone then at Slade. "Don't laugh at me! If he's trapped in there we need to get him out!"
"I'm not trapped in here, dear boy. I'm in my home in a another country far from where you are."
"How are you here if your in another country?"
"Richard, I'll explain later. Now, Will, what did you need?" Slade took Will off speaker phone and held the phone up to his ear. Richard stared at him as Will and Slade talked, Slade answering in clipped answers for a few minutes before hanging up.
Richard looked scared. "Are you going to kill me to?"
"William Wintergreen told you where a person was and how to get to their home to 'end them.' I assume your going to kill them?"
"I have good hearing. Are you going to kill me to?"
"Why kill this person then and not me?"
Slade sighed and stood. "I don't kill children."
Richard sat on the couch, puzzled as Slade left into his room. He doesn't kill children but he'll kill some random person? Or was the person random? Did the person hurt Slade in some way? Surely there was another way to even the odds than bloodshed, right? Richard sighed. "Regardless, I can't do anything about it." He turned off the light and laid down on the couch, closing his eyes. "I'm sorry, person. I wish I could help you..." He whispered as he fell into the land of dreams.
Slade sat in his bed, his laptop in his lap as he looked through the files Will had sent him. He sighed and texted his friend.
Slade- Will? You still up?
Mr. Green- Yes. What is wrong?
Slade swiped up and put the phone to his ear. "Will?"
"What about them?" Will's voice was sharp. Slade mentally sighed. "I just...Is there anyone else who can do this?"
"Are you backing out because of the boy?"
Slade closed his fingers into a fist. "His name is Richard."
Will sighed. "Yes yes, Richard. Are you backing out because-"
"I...don't want...to do it."
Will was silent for a few heartbeats before groaning. "Are you aware of who your employer is?"
Slade nodded then realized Will couldn't see him, he was about to say yes when Will cut him off. "You nodded. Good. I'm glad you know. For a moment I thought you went mad."
"I haven't forgotten. I want out."
"Slade, there is no out."
"Slade, where exactly are you going to go? How are you going to get there? How are you going to hide?"
"Don't get yourself killed, dumbass."
"Love you to, Will. Goodnight."
The man hung up his phone and sighed. Will would hang him up by his boots when he got to him, and when he saw who'd he'd brought along. Slade couldn't help it. He couldn't send the boy back on the streets. He'd die. He was to skinny to survive the harsh winter. He probably didn't have the survival skills necessary to survive either. He was a kid. Slade would help him through. Not because he was going to send him away to fend for himself, but because everyone should know how to survive should something happen.
Slade sat his laptop down on his desk after closing it and laid down under his cover on his bed. He thought about how his life had changed in just a few hours. He'd gone from a cold hearted killer to wanting to stop...well, to be honest it wasn't the first time he'd wanted to, but now he had a reason to stop. A reason to want to do better. To be better. He would. He would do right by Richard. He would be a good father. With those thoughts flowing through his mind, he fell asleep.
