A/N: here we are, the last chapter! I'm working on a drabble as well, but after that it will probably be a bit quiet from me for a while as my new job and university will start up soon. Plot bunnies are always appreciated, though! My new drabble is actually based on a plot bunny I recently got, so sometimes it pays off… ;)

Chapter 6: That Dog Won't Hunt

Robin slept the sleep of the deeply satisfied and was somewhat startled when he woke on his side from something pushing into him.

"Uhh! Wha…?" he mumbled.

"Stay in my bed and you have to pay bed taxes," a refreshed and amused sounding Slade said in his ear.

"Ahh… ngh…" was the teen's only reply. He was hard and, though also a bit sore, the slight pain was turning him on more than off. Robin felt Slade lift his leg to get better access and the fucking really got started.

They both came quickly without much finesse; right then the end result was more important than how they got there, and Robin almost dozed off again before he was woken with a slap on his ass.

"Get up and make breakfast," he was told.

"Or what?" the teen piped up.

"Or more bed taxes."

Robin knew when he had had enough and grudgingly got out of the warm bed.

"After we're eaten you will change and wash the sheets," he was further instructed.

"May I take a shower first, Master?" Robin asked, which was how they both ended up in a shower together, using their hands to help each other out in several different ways.

Robin was whistling and humming to himself as he boiled some eggs and stirred the porridge for breakfast. Slade generally believed in healthy breakfasts so nothing fried apart from once in a while. Robin had convinced him to get some orange juice however. Unnecessary sugar, but the teen claimed he needed it much more than coffee. Right now he felt great. The memories were still there and he'd have to live with them for the rest of his life, but super exposed on top of them was the picture of the happy, grateful family, and that really made it all worth it to him.

"Not burned this time, huh?" Slade commented as he glanced into the porridge pot. "Doing better there."

"Thanks," Robin grinned. "I know."

"The eggs are getting hard boiled, though," the man pointed out.

"Crap!" Robin swore as Slade just chuckled. "Just face it, Master, cooking will never be my thing."

"I'm starting to think that, yes, but practice makes perfect," the man insisted. "So, do you want to do something special today or do you plan on taking off on your own?"

Robin blinked. He was used to being highly independent and had missed being on his own a bit after Slade took him in, but right now being alone didn't have the same appeal.

"If you want to do something, I'm game…?" he asked carefully, not wanting to be in the way if the man wanted some alone-time.

"How about something silly?" Slade asked.

"Sure, what?"

"I know someone who runs a paintball-joint just outside the city and-"

"YES!"

"Well, glad you like it. These people take things quite seriously, though, and they have a lot of land… I'll call ahead to see if anything's available, alright?"

"Sure," Robin beamed.

He did the dishes and put things away while the man was on the phone.

"They were closed today," Slade started as he hung up.

"Aw!" Robin exclaimed, actually disappointed.

"Don't fret, he decided it was a fun idea to throw some friends together for a no-rules game, and that suits us better than playing with civilians, doesn't it?"

"I guess…?" Robin said carefully. "No rules, though? Like at all?"

"There needs to be some to make it a game I guess, but I'm sure all will be explained when we get there," the man grinned. "Ready to go?"

"Just gonna hit the bathroom," Robin announced and did so. While sitting in there he found that he was pleasantly surprised that their night, and morning, together hadn't really changed anything. It wasn't weird. They weren't 'together', of course, Slade was still the boss and Robin was content with that, but it also wasn't tense and such. The teen winced a little bit. Well, there were some signs of their activities, but he could live with that.

"So, listen up!" The man talking screamed 'ex military', he was on the shorter side, balding and was starting to get just a little bit of a gut. He was standing in front of the group of at least thirty people, a few of them women, who he had apparently rounded up to be in this game. They all looked excited to be there and grinned at each other. The excitement rubbed off on Robin who had problems standing still. "You have all been fitted with protective gear," the man continued. "Masks and padded chest protectors that is, no more no less. Still, shooting someone in the jewels is, literally, a dick move, ok? Not that it's against the rules…" There were chuckles all around. "This is a last man standing scenario, but played in teams. Team A and Team B. Wilson, Robin, you're on team A."

"Great, who else is with us?" Robin asked, looked around.

"Sorry, I should be clearer. You are team A. You get a ten minute head start and then I'll send the wolves here out after you. Team B, you decide how you're going to do this. No one allowed on the other side of the fence, of course. One hit and you're out. Lay down and stay down until the action moves somewhere else and then return to camp. Oh, and of course; place any bets you might want to before we start."

"What happens when team A has been annihilated?" one of the players asked.

The ex-military glanced as Slade and smirked. "Well, then it's each man or woman on their own, I'd say. We'll let you know by radio in that case."

"Pft, that won't take long. My bet is that we get them within half an hour," the same guy snorted.

"My money is on the smart bet. Us," Slade grinned.

The others chucked as did Robin. It was a relaxed, friendly group just joining up for some fun in the woods and the teen didn't feel threatened by the challenge, he looked forward to it.

"Let's go, then," Slade said and put on his mask.

Robin did the same and then looked up at the man, jumping a little.

"What?" Slade asked.

"I… you just look scary with that thing on," Robin admitted, feeling foolish. Bells again. Louder this time. Why?

The man just chuckled and the bells died down.

One thing about these people, Robin realized, was that they weren't that great at looking upwards. He had just put a bullet in another guy while Slade had taken out his friend from the ground. The man gave him a thumbs up and gestured that they should move along. The 'dead' was on the ground.

"Damn you, brat!" Robin's 'victim' whispered as the teen landed softly next to him. "Had no idea you were there, scared the crap out of me. Good luck now!"

Robin grinned back and nodded, following Slade quietly.

Had he been on his own he would most likely have been dead by now, he figured, but Slade knew amazing strategies for these kinds of scenarios. They kept as much to the middle of the vast grounds as they could, as being cornered was a sure way to lose as Slade had put it. Team B had started somewhat organized, but had now been broken up. Robin was tense, expecting movement everywhere, but Slade looked almost relaxed, moving too quietly for this world. They took out another group of four and thus moved on, group by group, individual by individual until Slade stood up after Robin had taken out yet another 'enemy'.

"Hey! There might be more out there!" Robin hissed.

"Nope, that was the last one. I counted," the man said and at that moment their radios crackled.

"That's game over boys and girls, congrats to Team A. Come back here and settle your bets."

There were no pissed off faces around them when they returned, just a lot of good natured swearing and pats on their shoulders as the others shared stories about how they had been taken down. Not even losing bets seemed to make people miserable as the bets had been low. Still, between all of them, Slade had made enough for a nice dinner, which he suggested to the teen.

"You've earned it," the man said with a grin, filling Robin with pride even though he wasn't sure what he had done more than following orders and being a bit creative when it came to hiding places.

Slade looked around at the men and women surrounding him, bright blue and red splotches on their bodies. He had asked for his and Robin's colors to be different, though the other team all had yellow bullets. The reason was that he wanted to see how the boy's shooting was and the result was slightly surprising but pleasing: all killing shots. Shots to arms and legs, even to gear, counted just as much and would have terminated a player, and Robin had been informed of this before starting, and yet he had, unconsciously perhaps, gone for killing shots in the chest and back. Interesting.

He took the teen home to shower and eat something light. After that they had to go shopping for clothes as he had promised Robin a nice dinner and the young man had absolutely nothing to wear that would be suitable. They got him a good enough suit, shirt, tie and shoes and after a lazy afternoon, which the boy spent tanning in the back yard for some reason, they set off to the restaurant where Slade had managed to get them a table.

The food was sublime, and the man had to hide his amusement when it came to how the boy acted. His cover as a street kid would have been completely blown if Slade hadn't already known the truth. The boy ordered and ate much too confidently, seemingly perfectly at home in the setting, using the right utensils and glasses and having impeccable manners. The boy himself didn't seem to reflect on any of that, but maybe it was a sign of trust that he didn't think about hiding his true self so much anymore.

When walking home they suddenly heard gun shots from a side street. Robin spun around towards the man.

"Can we?"

"Did you come armed like I told you?" Slade asked, again amused. He was teaching the boy never to go anywhere unprepared.

"Of course! You?"

Slade withdrew his ski mask from his jacket pocket with a smirk. Robin grinned at him and set off.

Slade had to actually hustle to catch up to the quick teen and hurriedly pulled the mask over his face as he ran into the shadows. They searched for the origin of the shooting but, as those things sometimes go, didn't find it. The streets seemed to be empty, none of the few people around appeared to be upset or acting strangely. They took to the roofs as well but even Robin had to give up after a while, which he did with a curse.

The teen turned towards Slade looking very annoyed. "Well, that was a waste of-" The man saw how the teen tensed and then paled as he cut himself off. He couldn't understand what had caused the reaction, but the young man's eyes were glued to his face as the man stood towering over him.

"Y-you…" Robin then turned on the spot and ran, no fled. Slade lifted his hand to his face and cursed. In his hurry to put the ski mask on he hadn't noticed that it was still covering his right eye. Somehow that must have made the boy put two and two together. He swore and set off after the teen. He needed to deal with him before he managed to do any damage.

Robin ran. How could he have been so blind? The man's build, his skill, his voice, his demeanor… they all fit into the Deathstroke mold. The one eye staring down at him had been the last thing to click, the last bell to ring. And he had run. He now wished that he had pretended like nothing was wrong and just slipped away later, with his gear, with maybe some food too.

Plans were flitting through his head but none of them seemed good enough right now. He had to leave Gotham. Maybe go to Metropolis or New York. He needed to get his small stash of money and burn most of it on buss tickets. Tonight. Now. He had to get away.

He didn't have his jump cord, just his mask, a couple of throwing knives and a gun. He could sell the gun, he decided, that would get him some spending money. He knew he had to get away. He knew too much and someone like Deathstroke wouldn't like lose ends.

His lungs started burning and he caught his breath, hidden in the shadows of two chimneys. He almost immediately heard footsteps catching up to him and set off again. He had to make the next jump. It was a big one, but he could do it. He had before. Many times. But not in dress shoes. He realized the last minute that he wouldn't get enough of a grip and tried to stop. Instead he slipped and was sliding towards the edge of the roof. He flailed, tried to grasp on to something, anything, but suddenly there was nothing beneath his feet. He felt the moment of weightlessness connected with falling just a split second before his arm was caught and he was flung up and back the way he had come. He landed badly, rolled and then got on his feet.

"Robin, put that down."

The teen blinked at Slade's order and then noticed the gun in his hand. He almost dropped it but then his grip tightened instead. This was his way out. His only way. He'd threaten the man first, but if that didn't work… Deathstroke was a killer. A heartless murderer. No better than that kidnapper. Even as he thought the thoughts they grated together in his mind, making an awful noise of sorts as he tried to make them fit.

"Back down, Deathstroke, or I'll shoot."

"Nothing has changed." The man's voice was calm, reasonable.

"Everything's changed!" the teen snarled. "You trained me to be like you!"

"I never pretended otherwise. I told you what I was, Robin. I even showed you."

"No!" Robin wouldn't listen, he decided. The man's words were poison. He was Deathstroke, an assassin, an enemy. Yes, he had known Slade wasn't on the right side of the law, but… but… but this was different! This was the man who had tried to kill hi- Suddenly Robin realized that the man must have recognized him, both times they met. "Why didn't you kill me?" he asked.

"Because you were good, Grayson."

The name might as well have been a blow to his guts. Robin gasped. "You… you knew? For… for how long?"

"Since I took you in. I followed you to 'work' one night."

"And… and you just played along?" The teen's cheeks colored. He felt humiliated, betrayed… toyed with.

"I wanted you to have what you wanted," the man shrugged. "Put the gun down. Let's go home."

Robin burst out in a short laugh. "You wouldn't want any witnesses, Deathstroke. I know too much about you."

"Which would be a problem if you were looking to sell that information or go to the authorities, but you won't."

"How can you be so sure?"

"Wishful thinking maybe… because I really don't want to kill you, kid."

"Sure," Robin snorted and backed away. "I won't say anything, okay, just let me go?" The last part came out more pleading than he had meant to.

The man shook his head. "Not like this. Not without more reassurance. The trial month is up in a few days, stay with me until then. We'll train as usual. No missions."

"I'm not an idiot."

"No, but sometimes you mimic one very well," Slade sighed. "We can do this the hard way or the easy way, Robin."

"Let's try it the hard way then," the teen, who trusted the man just about as far as he could throw him, snorted.

"Very well." He seemed to suddenly explode and before Robin even had time to pull the trigger the gun was painfully knocked out of his hand and his neck was grabbed. "Sorry about this," the man told him and just as Robin became aware that he was going to die the world went black.

Slade looked down on the unconscious form on the bed. He hoped this would work out. The boy was right; he didn't want witnesses, at least not hostile ones. If the kid was going to leave him Slade would have to feel one hundred percent sure that there wouldn't be any nasty surprises coming his way in the future. The man sighed. He had trust issues.

Robin woke up back in his small room. He was surprised about that. Waking up, that was. If the man really wanted to kill him he would have done so on the roof, surely? The handcuffs attaching his wrists to the bed frame was less of a surprise. His jacket and shoes had been taken off and when he moved he couldn't feel the shapes of the throwing knives he had strapped on. Slade wouldn't let him keep those, of course.

His head hurt. The man must have knocked him out. He blearily craned his neck back to study the cuffs, but there was nothing he could do about them right now. He had nothing to try to pick the locks with, and he knew the bed was sturdy as he had helped carry it in here himself. He closed his eyes, it helped the headache even though the room was dark, and dozed instead, until there was a knock on the door.

"Yes?" he answered flatly, and it opened, light flowing in from the hallway.

"Awake, I see," Slade stated, a glass of what looked like water in his hand. "How are you feeling?" he added and turned on the light in the room.

"Not dead. But a headache." Robin squinted, the pain reacting badly to the light.

"I suspected as much, I brought you some pain pills," the man said and showed them to him. The teen narrowed his eyes suspiciously, but the man only snorted. "If I wanted you dead you would have been dead," he said, echoing Robin's own thoughts. "Just headache pills. I'm not going to force you to take them."

Robin tried to shuffle into a sitting position but needed Slade's help.

"I'll take them," the boy said, and opened his mouth as the man gave them to him and then offered him water to drink, holding the glass for him. "Thanks," the teen added, having some manners.

"You're welcome. Are you ready to talk yet?"

"I guess. I don't have a choice, do I?"

"Not really," the man admitted, with a little smirk.

"Care to uncuff me?"

"I rather like the sight…" the man's voice was deeper now, the smirk wider.

"Slade!" Robin felt himself blushing.

"Very well. I'm glad I'm 'Slade' again, and not 'Deathstroke'."

"But you are, though…" Robin muttered as the man undid one cuff. "Wait, what about the other one?" he added as Slade sat back.

"I don't want to go chasing you across the city again if I can help it, and I intend to sleep for another hour or two. It's three in the morning."

Robin huffed but there wasn't much he could say to that.

There was a moment of silence. "Who am I to you now, Robin?" Slade's voice was serious. Not cold, but not exactly warm either. He sounded… guarded.

"Deathstroke," Robin snapped, then just slightly regretted it. "Slade. I don't know! You lied to me!"

"No more than you did to me. Less, one might argue."

"I should have known. There was something wrong with your eye, I just… couldn't pin point it."

"It moves quite well, but the pupil, of course, doesn't dilate," Slade said.

"That's it," the teen felt silly that he hadn't seen that. What a bad detective he was…

"Don't beat yourself up," the man said kindly. "That's my job."

Robin let out a little chuckle, despite himself. "You're good at it," he said.

"Well, thank you. And about my job, does it really matter that much that you didn't know my alias? You knew pretty much what I do."

"Not the scale of it."

"I'm sorry for being more successful than you thought. In the mean while I put a lot of time into 'training' a professional who pretended to have no idea what he was doing."

Robin pondered that for a moment. "You knew, though."

"Yes, so I had to pretend and think of ways to get you what you needed. That museum trip?"

"Not like I enjoyed that either," Robin muttered, feeling like he unfairly enough was getting scolded here. He sighed. "I… I don't know about any of this, Slade… I won't go to the police and certainly not to some damn criminal, present company excluded, but… I don't know."

"Sleep on it. Do you need the bathroom? Water?"

"No, not right now. I'm tired, though," the teen admitted.

"You look it. I'll leave our doors open, just call if you need anything. I'm not going to uncuff you, though, I hope you understand?"

"Yeah, I do." Robin shuffled down again and smiled a little as Slade more or less tucked him in. "On a scale between Ivar and Batman, where would you rank?" he suddenly asked the man who was about to leave.

Slade paused in the doorway. "I'm not a good man, Robin. I don't think of myself as a bad man either, though. I don't enjoy killing, per se, but I'm good at it and I charge for it. Charge for saving people too. I don't know where that will 'rank' me… I think you'll get different answers from different people."

"But where would you put yourself?"

"Hell of a lot closer to Batman than Ivar."

Robin thought for a moment and then nodded. "Agreed."

"Well good. Anything else?"

"No."

"Sleep well, then."

"You too."

Robin was tired, but it took a while to fall asleep. His mind was rushing trying to find a solution, trying to make sense of it all and decide where he stood. It wasn't easy. There was Slade, his master, who he knew pretty well by now. A tough man, with humor, who had taken him in, trained him into a better fighter, made love to him… and also made him do and see things he rather wouldn't have. And then there was Deathstroke who… who what? Robin didn't know squat about the man, really, apart from that he had fought Batman and was a 'bad guy'. An assassin. A mercenary. But which part was more important? The man or his job? Robin knew he couldn't separate them, of course he couldn't, but… He groaned quietly to himself. Why was this so difficult? The man was a criminal and he should have nothing to do with criminals! But he had known what he was from the start. Robin himself hadn't exactly been innocent of crime even before he met Slade. And he had agreed to join him as his apprentice for a month knowing this… so that hadn't changed. And Robin genuinely liked Slade. He really did. It was difficult to admit, but it was true. But did liking someone mean you should give up your future plans?

Robin fell asleep wrapped up in those conflicting thoughts.

Slade didn't go straight to sleep, he checked a few orders he had made and, as they were done he arranged to have them delivered early the next morning. He also contacted some financial sources of his, making further arrangements. When he was done he passed by Robin's bedroom door and glanced inside. The boy was asleep but twisting and turning. He could imagine some of what he was going through. Slade's worries had been calmed, though. Robin was easy to read and he was sure the boy had been honest about not betraying him. What he would do now was still hanging in the air, though. It was up to the boy now.

Robin awoke to a wonderful smell and sat up, yawning.

"Slade?" he called out as no one was in the room.

"One moment!" The man sounded like he was in the kitchen, which would match the smell. Seemed like Slade had decided on a fatty breakfast today.

When the man came into the room Robin blinked at the black eye patch he was wearing.

"So, you're actually a pirate?" the teen asked pluckily.

"Aye, matey," the man replied without missing a beat, making Robin laugh. "Truth is the glass eye chafes like crazy," the man continued.

"So if you've been cranky, that's why?" Robin grinned.

"Maybe you should mind your manners. You're still in cuffs," Slade pointed out.

"Oh. Yeah. Sorry," Robin smirked.

"No running and I'll take them off."

"Only to the bathroom," the young man answered honestly.

"That I can allow. Come to the kitchen when you're done."

Robin admitted that he did look at the bathroom window for a bit while in there. Running, though, would be stupid on so many levels. If anything he needed the man's trust not the other way around.

The kitchen smelled divine and he could feel his mouth watering when he entered.

"I clearly have to learn how to cook better," he admitted, looking at the spread. Bacon, fried eggs, sausages, pancakes, jam, juice… it was one big fatty and sugary pile of food.

"I thought we could indulge," Slade shrugged as he placed a plate of toast on the table. "Sit."

Robin did. They ate in amiable silence, but as their stomachs filled up it was time for business.

"I've changed my mind and we're ending your trial period today," Slade told him. "As we agreed that means you can join me or leave. What do you want to do?"

Robin hesitated, tried to think things through one more time. "I don't know," he admitted. "I'm… very confused about a lot of things… and because of that… I can't join you. I can't make a promise to you when I don't understand my own feelings yet."

"I trust you won't betray me if I let you go?" the man wanted to make sure.

"I won't."

"If you do…"

"Yes, yes, I'll get to walk the plank." When the man looked confused, Robin pointed to his own right eye. "Because of the eye patch," he cleared up.

Slade snorted. "Something like that," he admitted. "Well, you know the conditions of you leaving."

"Yeah… I only get to bring what I came here with," Robin sighed. "Can I take a shower first, though, please? And I'm not sure where my old clothes are…?"

"Take the shower, I'll help you with the rest," the man told him.

When Robin returned to the kitchen about twenty minutes later, after really have taken his time as he didn't know when he'd get the opportunity to feel clean again, he was surprised to see a big gym bag and a backpack waiting for him. "What's all this?" he asked. He was just wearing a towel and had expected to see just his old clothes.

"I'm not going to send my former apprentice out there with nothing again. Can't have you begging on the streets, that would ruin my reputation," the man smirked and gave him an envelope. "ID papers saying your name is Robin Wilson and you're eighteen. Address to a small apartment, prepaid for three months. That should give you time to find something of your own as I suspect you'd want that. Debit card. I put your cut of our latest mission in there. After all, you did the actual work. If you live frugally it might last you a year. Contact information to a guy that can give you some missions if you'd like to work for money. He's been warned you just want good-guy stuff, but there's a lot of that. Protection, missing people, kidnappings… and your gear is in the bag. You can also take the phone I gave you in case you have any questions."

"I…. I… wow." Robin just took it all in. "I… Wilson, that's your last name, right?"

"I'm possessive. Still consider you mine," the man smirked.

Robin was caught between laughing and choking up and, in the spirit of that mood, opted to hug the man. Hard.

"Sorry," he mumbled into the man's chest. "I just have to."

"Quite alright."

"Your hand is under my towel," the boy pointed out a moment later.

"I know," the man deadpanned and patted his behind amiably. "Just a little something to remember on cold, lonely winter nights."

Robin laughed and shook his head as he pulled away. "I'm going to get dressed," he announced and grabbed a pile of clothes that the man hadn't packed, probably intended for him to wear.

"Pity," the man sighed but then smirked. "There's a gun with your gear. Wear it. Just in case," he said seriously.

"Ok, I will," the teen said.

"And keep up the training."

"Yes, sir. Um… are you… are you leaving?"

Slade nodded. "Just accepted a contract in Chicago."

"Do you come by Gotham often?"

"Only if work brings me here. But Robin, if we should meet again… don't get in my way, no matter what, understood?"

The teen nodded.

Slade watched the young man go with a little bit of regret. There was nothing he could have done, though, and at least now the stray wouldn't be sleeping in the streets. He'd keep an eye on him too. There was no reason for the boy to know that, apart from the phone being traceable, Slade had long since also planted GPS transmitters in the handles of his jump cords and in his belt as well. No reason at all.

Five months later and Robin had settled into a new rent-by-the-month place. It was just a tiny room with a kitchenette and the only furniture he had was a bed, but it was a kingdom compared to where he had been six months ago. He took on assignments from Slade's contact regularly to make a living, even danced at Big Johns place now and then, but beside that he didn't have much going on. He had planned on going to college, but felt lost about what he wanted to study. He sometimes felt like he was stuck in some kind of limbo.

He had been back at the house a few weeks after he had left, but it had been bordered up and empty. He'd felt so lonely then. Left behind. Lost. He had held the phone in his hand for a long time that night, but didn't send as much as a text. It was for emergencies, he assumed, not for anything else. It had also never rung.

Right now he was out patrolling, no real goal in mind, just enjoying a run over the roofs. He leaped over to the next roof, rounded a stairwell building and skidded to a halt. Slade was standing just on the other side of the building, two men on their knees in front of him.

"Robin," the man nodded, but his tone had a warning note in it, and the gun he was holding had swung to include the young man in its range.

The teen raised his hands in a calming manner. "Had no idea you were here, gonna go this way now," he hurriedly said, pointing in the other direction. "Please, um… go ahead. Preferably when I've left though," he added, and took off. He expected to hear gun shots to ring out but they never did.

The next night Robin repeated the feat of running into Slade as the man suddenly appeared in front of him.

"I swear I'm not stalking you!" the teen said, already backing away.

"No, that's my job," the man said and lifted his mask so the teen could see the smirk underneath. "Relax, I came to see you."

"Oh! Good!" the teen smiled. "Back in town for a bit, then?"

"Only a day or two. Had some intimidation business to see to."

"Like those two guys on the roof last night?" the teen asked. "How intimidated are they? Permanently?"

The man chuckled. "Not your business, but no. They walked. But they know they won't do it next time. I've heard you're taking assignments from Jonas?"

"Yeah, it pays well and I get to help people," Robin shrugged.

"You killed a man," Slade said.

Robin froze. "You've kept a close tab, haven't you?" he muttered.

"Of course," the man shrugged like it was natural.

"It was a hostage situation, he was about to execute two of the hostages. Didn't have a choice," Robin explained.

"Those things happen," the man nodded.

"Soo… how's your work?" Robin asked after a moment of silence.

"Stressful," the man leered.

"Heh, maybe there's something we can do about that sometime?" Robin offered with a little bit of a leer back.

"I'd appreciate it," the mercenary chuckled. "Do you have any plans coming up? School? Contracts?"

"Nah, not yet. Trying to decide what I want to do," Robin shrugged.

"I'm heading to Italy as soon as I finish here, maybe by tomorrow. The daughter of a mafia boss has been abducted and they are afraid she'll be forced to marry the son of a rival family. Although she might have gone willingly. Mafia business is always messy."

"Oh." Italy. That was very far away. Robin had an inner picture of light, sun, scents of food and flowers.

"Could use an extra pairs of eyes and hands over there…" Slade told him. "Want to come?"

"I… I don't have a passport?" Robin said, taken aback.

"I happen to have one in your name."

"You happen to, huh?" the teen smirked and then took a big breath. "Yes. Yes I'd like to come."

"You will. And to Italy too," Slade grinned. "Your place or mine?"

It seemed the stray had an owner again.

The End

A/N: that was that. Always nice when strays are adopted. If you're not looking for a specific breed; go to a shelter! ;) And if you ARE looking for a specific breed, make sure the breeder is a reputable one. CU!