Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

The next day, Slade woke Dick up at six o’clock in the morning. As usual, he was given ten minutes in the bathroom before training began anew. If he had to describe their lessons in one word, it would be “hell”. Dick had to do everything one-handed, no matter the task. Whether it was reading manuals or weapons training, he was expected to excel. By the end of each day, he was left bruised, beaten, and sore. 

After a while, his shoulder started to develop a constant ache due to overuse. Thankfully, Joey stepped in to help. He made sure to change Dick’s bandages every day and kept his arm mobile in between sparring sessions. 

As his injury healed, Dick gradually adapted to his handicap until he could confidently hold his own in a fight. Slade was pleased, of course, and had even complimented Dick’s progress, but it felt somewhat hollow. He’d only improved out of necessity, nothing more. 

On the fifth day, Slade took Dick to the shooting range and trained him to use his gun with one hand. To make up for his injury, he kept a firm grip on his pistol and stood more to the side. Dick was a fast learner. He aimed his Beretta M9 and shot each target as they moved along the tracks. 

When he ran out of ammunition, Slade unclipped the paper targets and checked his marksmanship. There were two clusters of bullet holes in each silhouette, hitting both the head and the chest. If it had been a real target, they would’ve been dead.

Dick turned away, swallowing thickly. In the dim lighting, it almost looked like blood splatter. He blinked away the memory of the guard and forced himself not to feel. It wasn’t the healthiest way to cope, but he didn’t know how else to deal with the guilt. 

“Good work, Robin,” said Slade. “That’s a wrap for today.”

After field stripping and cleaning his weapon, Dick followed Joey out of the shooting range and into the kitchen. He’d been given more freedom to roam the facility, mainly because of his good behaviour during lessons. Slade liked it when he followed orders. 

Joey had Dick sit on one of the kitchen stools as he prepared dinner. Usually, Dick would have offered to help since he had plenty of experience cooking for his team, but Joey wouldn’t hear of it. He wanted him to rest his shoulder and avoid further aggravation. 

“I didn’t realise that you cooked all the meals,” said Dick. “You’re quite the chef.”

Joey grinned at the compliment. He finished chopping the peeled carrots and then tipped them into a separate bowl, freeing up his hands. 

“Thanks,” he signed. “Dad usually makes me do all the cooking and cleaning. I think it’s his form of discipline since I refuse to follow in his footsteps.”

“He’s not training you to be a mercenary?” asked Dick. 

Joey rinsed the chopping board and then started quartering the potatoes for the stew. “No,” he signed after putting down the knife. “I’m not a fighter. That’s his thing. I prefer drawing, or painting, or playing music.”

He’d never seen Joey train, but he had seen him draw. Usually, whenever Dick studied or had lessons with Slade, Joey sat in the corner with his sketchbook and graphite pencil. 

“What sort of stuff do you draw?” asked Dick. “I’d love to see what you’ve been working on.”

“It’s mainly filled with figures and poses,” explained Joey. He held one arm flat as he crooked his pointer finger, the sign for people. “Nothing special.”

“If you’re as good at drawing as you are at cooking, then I’m sure they’re amazing.”

Joey’s face heated, colouring his cheeks a dusty pink. “Thanks. I’ll show you some of my sketches afterwards.”

He turned back to the chopping board and sliced into a slab of chuck steak, trimming off the fat. They needed to finish cooking first. 

Dick stirred the pot with his good hand, browning the meat and softening the vegetables. Joey set a timer for two hours and left the stew to simmer. 

“I’ll be back,” signed Joey. He ducked out of the kitchen to retrieve his sketchbook. When he returned, he shyly handed it over. 

Inside, the pages held several sketches of human anatomy, including close-ups of hands and specific facial features. Joey had added small annotations, detailing his thought process and the techniques he wanted to explore. It was a rare insight into the emotions behind his work. 

Dick flicked through the sketchbook, admiring each drawing. He paused when he came across a very familiar page. It contained all the letters of the alphabet—the same one that Joey had used to teach him how to fingerspell.

Since then, his ASL had significantly improved to the point where he could hold competent conversations. It definitely made communicating with Joey easier. 

Dick flipped to the next page and felt his heart soar. Joey had drawn a picture of him. In it, he was sitting cross-legged with his nose buried in a book. He bit his bottom lip, trying to hide his grin. No one had ever drawn him before. 

“Is this me?” asked Dick. 

Joey’s brows skyrocketed. He snapped the sketchbook shut and signed so fast that Dick only caught every second word.

“Slow down. You’re signing too fast for me.”

Joey huffed but slowed down his movements. “You weren’t meant to see that.”

“I don’t mind,” said Dick. He gently pried the sketchbook out of Joey’s hands and reopened it. “In fact, I think you’ve perfectly captured my likeness.”

“You think so?” asked Joey. 

“Of course. I knew you’d be talented.” 

An enormous smile spread across Joey’s face. 

Dick thumbed through the pages and continued to compliment Joey’s work. There was one particular sketch, near the start of the book, that struck a chord with him. It was of an older woman, in her late forties, with wavy shoulder-length hair and a pair of very familiar green eyes. There was a sense of sadness surrounding her that Dick often felt about his own mother. 

“Is this a sketch of your Mom?” asked Dick. 

Joey flicked his eyes towards the kitchen door and then back at Dick. They were alone. 

“Yes,” he signed. “Her name’s Adeline.” Joey spelled her name out using fingerspelling. 

Dick glanced at the drawing. “She’s beautiful.” He hesitated, unsure how to phrase his next question. “Is she…?”

“No,” interrupted Joey. “She’s missing. I don’t know what happened to her.”

“Is that why you’re living with Slade full-time?” he asked. 

He'll never understand how anyone could marry Slade, let alone have a kid with him. 

“Kinda.” Joey glanced down at the sketch, his lips stretched thin. “I think my dad was involved in her disappearance. I can’t prove it, but it’s the only thing that makes sense.”

“Do you think he’s hidden her somewhere?”

“I don’t know. Maybe?” Joey raised one hand as he lowered the other, uncertainty written on his face. “All I know is that she isn’t here. I’ve checked every room in the facility, but there’s no sign of her.”

“Could he have ordered her to stay away? Or threatened to hurt you if she didn’t obey?” suggested Dick. 

“I wouldn’t put it past him.”

Blackmail and coercion were a big part of Slade's repertoire. Dick would know, he’s living proof.

“I’ll help in any way I can,” promised Dick. “I may not be the world’s greatest detective, but I’m more than capable of conducting an investigation.” 

“Thank you.” Joey held a flat hand near his lips and then lowered it. “I really miss her.”

“I’m sure she misses you, too.”

He could relate to Joey’s grief. Losing his parents when he was ten was one of the toughest things he’d ever been through. There’d always be a part of him that missed them (and Bruce as well, if he was being honest). 

“What about you? Are your parents still around? Were they vigilantes too?” asked Joey, switching topics. 

No matter how much Dick wanted to tell Joey the truth, he couldn’t. He’d promised Bruce to keep his identity a secret. 

“No, my parents were normal people,” explained Dick. 

At least, they felt normal to him. But he knew that growing up in a circus would be considered odd to anyone else. 

“It’s a bit of a long story, but several years ago, my family and I were targeted by a thug who’d planned to extort us for money. He, uh… murdered my parents and disguised their deaths as an accident.” 

It took Dick months before he stopped seeing their mangled bodies whenever he closed his eyes. Even now, years later, he still dreamt of the moment they fell and the sickening crunch when they hit the ground. 

“I tried to explain it to the police, but they didn’t believe me. So, I decided to track down the thug myself.”

“Is that how you met Batman?” asked Joey. 

Dick nodded. “I didn’t know it then, but Batman was also after the same guy. During the investigation, he recognised my potential as a vigilante and decided to mentor me. Then, together, we brought my parents’ killer to justice.”

“Was that when you became Robin?”

“Kinda. Robin’s always been a part of me, even before I became a vigilante.”

Being Robin allowed Dick to honour both his parents and his heritage. To fly free like he once did on the trapeze. No matter what Bruce said or did, Robin was his. No one could take that from him. 

“So why aren’t you still with Batman?” asked Joey. 

There were always two sides to every story. As a detective, Dick understood this, but the way things ended between him and Bruce left a bad taste in his mouth. 

“We had a falling out.”

Joey scrunched up his nose, reading between the lines. “What happened?” he signed. 

“He no longer wanted me to be Robin.”

A rather basic account of events. In truth, things were much more complicated… 

“We need to talk,” said Bruce. 

They’d just come back from a successful mission and were debriefing in the Batcave. Alfred stepped away to prepare refreshments, leaving the two of them alone. 

“You were late,” began Bruce. He removed his cowl to speak but kept the rest of the batsuit on. 

Dick was similarly dressed in his Robin costume, except he still wore his domino mask. 

“I know what you’re going to say,” interrupted Dick. “You need me in Gotham more. I get it, okay.”

It was one of their more common arguments. Bruce felt like Dick wasn’t focusing enough on the mission and needed to dedicate more of his time to Gotham. In a way, he was right. He’d been struggling to balance his responsibilities. 

Half his time was spent in Gotham City as Robin and the other half attending college classes as Dick Grayson. At fifteen, he’d graduated early from Gotham City High School and had been accepted into Hudson University in New Carthage. Since then, he barely had time for friends, let alone anything else. 

“This isn’t a joke, Dick. Robin is supposed to be my second... my lieutenant. Anything less than total devotion to the cause is just a waste of my time.”

“I’ll do better—”

Bruce cut him off. “No, that isn’t good enough. If you’re not willing to do as you’re told, then this partnership is over.”

“You can’t be serious!?” exclaimed Dick. 

He’d meant what he said; he’d do better. Gotham City and its people were just as important to him as they were to Bruce. 

“I’ll say it again. You’re fired, Dick.” Bruce towered over him, fury radiating from him in waves. “Get out of my cave.”

Dick’s chest tightened as a wave of emotion threatened to spill over. How dare he fire him? Robin wasn’t just a job; it was his identity, a homage to his parents. They were supposed to be partners. Batman and Robin. The Dynamic Duo. Why couldn’t Bruce see that?

“Fine. If that’s the way you want it. See you around.”

Before Bruce could say anything else, Dick stormed over to his bike. He rode off with only his uniform, a few gadgets, and his communicator. All his personal belongings were left behind. 

He needed a fresh start, a new city—somewhere Bruce wouldn’t follow him. Leaving Gotham City felt bittersweet but also invigorating at the same time.

Only time would tell if he made the right decision…

After their altercation, Dick left New Jersey altogether and wandered aimlessly along the East Coast, helping anyone he encountered. He decided to take a break from Hudson University and deferred his course until things settled down. During that time, he ended up in Jump City and helped form the Teen Titans with a bunch of other teenage heroes. They quickly became friends and Dick couldn’t imagine his life without them. 

“We haven’t spoken since,” admitted Dick. 

He still received the occasional call from Alfred, but Bruce hadn’t said a word to him. 

“I’m sorry,” signed Joey. 

“Don’t be,” said Dick. He smiled softly. “Things worked out for me. I got to meet a bunch of amazing heroes, and together we formed the Teen Titans. They’re probably still searching for me as we speak.”

It’d been a month since his apprenticeship first began. He hadn’t seen his team in person, but he did catch a glimpse of the Titans Tower. They’d managed to fix the damage from their last battle, so at least Dick knew they were doing alright without him. 

“They sound amazing,” signed Joey.

“They are.” Dick peered over his shoulder, making sure Slade wasn’t about to walk in on them. “Once this is all over, you should meet them. I think they’d really like you.”

Joey beamed. “You think so?”

“I know so,” answered Dick, returning the smile. 

He blamed their reddened cheeks on the steam wafting up from the stew. 

A week later, the sling was removed. Dick added more shoulder stretches to his routine, focused on reducing stiffness and regaining flexibility. His injury would most likely take months to heal, but at least the pain had subsided. A small price to pay for the mistakes made that day. 

After training, Dick spent every spare moment with Joey, either reading, cooking, or just talking. To his surprise, Slade never mentioned it. Dick suspected that he actually preferred it when they were together because it was easier to keep an eye on both of them. 

There were a few other notable changes. Firstly, Dick had been given free rein of the facility. He knew that Slade still monitored him, so he had to be careful not to overstep his bounds, but it was a welcome change. Secondly, Slade stopped locking Dick in his sleeping quarters, which meant he could use the bathroom freely during the night. Something Dick was immensely grateful for. 

In return, Slade required Dick to attend missions. He had been forced to steal a bunch of legal documents, including bond certificates, from a safety deposit box in San Francisco, California. Then they commandeered a delivery truck filled with Rhodium Bullion Bars, one of the rarest metals in the world, travelling from Winnipeg, Canada, to Saint Paul, Minnesota. Neither theft seemed to be related, but Dick couldn’t rule out the possibility. 

They were currently planning a heist to steal the Moussaieff Red Diamond, the world’s largest red diamond. It weighed 5.11 carats and was valued at twenty million dollars. However, their client wasn’t interested in its monetary worth. Instead, they intended to use the diamond as a power amplifier for a magical amulet.

Dick knew Slade often worked with other villains, but helping someone with such a dangerous device was a step too far. He had to hope that another hero would intervene before it caused too much harm. 

For the first time in a decade, the diamond would be displayed at the Smithsonian Institution's Natural History Museum as part of their “Splendour of Diamonds” exhibition. Slade planned to intercept the gem during its transfer and replace it with a fake. 

They decided to pose as part of the security team to gain access to the armoured delivery truck. Their driver, a man named Cooper, wasn’t allowed to leave the vehicle until it returned to the garage. Meanwhile, Slade and Dick were known as the “coal bag”, the guards who delivered the valuables. They wore a uniform, including bulletproof vests and ballistic helmets, which completely covered their faces.

Dick did manage to catch a glimpse of Slade under his two-tone mask. He had pale skin and a white beard, confirming his theory that he was in his fifties. 

To blend in, both of them armed themselves with standard handguns but left their regular weapons behind. The truck itself had bullet-resistant glass and a reinforced cab, built to withstand most handguns and rifles.

The inside was fitted with CCTV that streamed directly to both the driver and the control room. It was also equipped with GPS, which the security company closely monitored to ensure it never deviated from the route. The final feature was a remote-controlled system that disabled the engine if anyone tried to open the doors from the outside. 

Tricky but not impossible. 

An hour before they left, Slade snuck into the control room. He quickly bypassed the security and gained access to their systems. Then he set a timer for noon. Once it was activated, the CCTV cameras in their truck would enter a time loop, giving them roughly fifteen minutes to swap out the diamond with a duplicate. 

Dressed as guards, Dick helped Slade load the case containing the diamond onto the back of the armoured truck. They secured it and then locked themselves inside. The drive would take about an hour and forty-five minutes, during which they were being recorded on CCTV.

For the first hour, they responded to radio calls as required and kept a close eye on the cargo. The truck followed the pre-approved route, avoiding all major roadworks. 

At noon, the cameras switched to looped footage taken from the start of their trip. Neither Cooper nor the control centre noticed. Slade immediately got to work opening the case, with Dick quickly joining him. He unclipped his utility belt, hidden underneath his uniform, and took out a pair of pliers. Together, they unlocked the case. 

Slade pulled out a duplicate, an almost perfect replica of the diamond, and swapped them. Then they locked the case and reactivated its alarms, making sure no one would notice they’d tampered with it.

At the fifteen-minute mark, the cameras flicked back on. To anyone watching, there’d be a minor blip, but otherwise no obvious differences. 

The truck arrived at the museum as scheduled. Six guards, along with the curator, met them at the back of the building where an industrial roller door was open. Cooper backed the truck into the designated space, ready for them to unload the cargo. 

Slade unlocked the doors and then helped Dick carry the case inside. They took it down to the basement where the museum stored its artefacts. 

As Dick descended the stairs, he felt his skin prickle. Someone was watching him. He subtly glanced around. 

One of the guards gave him a funny look. “You look familiar. Have we met before?” he asked. 

Dick didn’t recognise him, but they might’ve met when he was Robin. He used to visit Washington, D.C., often with Bruce. They’d stop by The Hall of Justice, a former base for the Justice League of America, and sometimes chat with the general public. Nowadays, the hall was more like a museum, giving people a firsthand glimpse into the hero lifestyle. 

“Maybe?” Dick lowered his voice, mimicking a mid-Atlantic accent. “Before this gig, I worked as a driver for Brink’s. We might’ve crossed paths there?” he lied. 

“Yeah, maybe?” questioned the guard. He squinted at Dick, trying to recall where he’d seen him.

Thankfully, Dick’s ballistic helmet covered most of his face, and the bulletproof vest made him appear bulkier than he was. To an outsider, he looked like a short adult. 

Slade came up behind him, looming over his shoulder. “Is there a problem?” he drawled. His hand hovered near his handgun. 

“Nah, we’re good.” The guard stepped back, clearly intimidated by Slade.

Dick needed to defuse the situation quickly before someone got shot. He reached into his bag and pulled out a transportation docket. 

“Who do we get to sign this?” asked Dick. 

“Talk to Cristián Samper, he’s the director,” explained the guard. “He’s probably somewhere upstairs.”

“Thanks.”

Slade placed a hand on Dick’s shoulder and gently guided him towards the stairs, keeping a firm grip. His skin crawled at the feeling. He didn’t want to be touched, especially by Slade. 

Back upstairs, Slade handed the director a copy of the docket and had him sign the original. This was his last chance to warn someone about the dupe. 

Images of his friends and Joey entered his mind. What would Slade do to them if he intervened?

Dick kept his mouth shut. He felt like a fraud. 

Once they were back on the truck and driving away, the guilt hit him. Dick had helped Slade steal a diamond worth twenty million dollars. A diamond that would most likely be used to harm others. If anyone were to get hurt or worse, he’d be partly responsible. Not that he wasn’t already culpable for the crimes he’d committed. 

A memory of the Russian guard flashed inside his mind. Dick’s actions that day led to his death. He couldn’t imagine how scared he must’ve felt—the pure helplessness in his final moment.

Dick swallowed the lump in his throat. He didn’t know what else he could do, not without putting his friend’s lives in jeopardy.  

“Don’t overthink it,” said Slade. “The plan worked as intended, and nobody got hurt. It’s a win-win situation.”

For you and the client, maybe, but not for the museum, Dick wanted to say. Instead, he stayed silent. 

“Keep up the good work, Gra—” Slade stopped himself. For one brief second, he looked heartbroken, then his expression hardened. 

Dick stared at him with wide eyes. Was he just about to say Grayson? Did Slade know his last name? But how!? He’d been so careful! 

His heart hammered in his chest. 

Did that mean Slade had figured out Batman's identity? One of the most closely guarded secrets on the planet. Had he told anyone else? Was Bruce in danger? 

“Slade, I—”

“Quiet,” he ordered. 

For the rest of the drive, they sat in silence. Dick’s mind spun, trying to work out how Slade knew his identity. When they got back to the garage, they slipped away unnoticed, having successfully stolen the Moussaieff Red Diamond. 

Back at the facility, Dick dashed out of the room as soon as they arrived. His emotions were a tangled mess that needed to be unravelled. Slade let him leave without a word. 

On his way back to his sleeping quarters, Joey intercepted him in the hallway. 

“What’s wrong?” he signed, feeling deeply concerned. 

“Not here,” said Dick. 

Joey recognised the importance of privacy and took Dick’s hand, leading him down the corridor. He took them to his bedroom and then closed the door. 

“Are we being recorded?” asked Dick. 

His eyes flicked around the room, trying to spot any hidden cameras. There was a bed, a bookshelf, and a desk. As he inspected the space, he noticed several art supplies and half-finished canvases, but no photos or personal belongings. 

“There are no cameras in here,” signed Joey. 

Dick fidgeted anxiously, too nervous to sit still. “I need you to tell me the truth,” he said. “Does Slade know my identity? Does he know who I am?” 

Joey hesitated. He raised his hands and then lowered them. 

“Please,” begged Dick.

“I don’t know,” Joey eventually signed. 

“Do you know my identity?”

Joey touched his first two fingers to his thumb once. “No.” Then he reached out a hesitant hand and lightly touched Dick’s arm, offering reassurance. “What happened?” he asked again. 

“On the mission, Slade... I think he worked out my name.”

Joey’s lips parted in quiet surprise. “What exactly did he say?” 

Dick explained the mission from the start, right up to the moment where Slade almost called him Grayson. 

“...he only said a partial name, but I heard enough.”

Joey looked utterly stunned. His skin turned a pale grey. “He was about to call you Grant.”

“Grant?”

“My older brother,” he signed. 

Dick’s brows furrowed. “You have a brother?” 

When they first described their families, Joey never mentioned having a sibling. 

“He’s dead.”

Dick blinked, slowly piecing it together. Grant, Slade’s eldest son, had died. What did this mean for him? Did Slade see him as a replacement? Someone to fill Grant’s shoes?

Since the start, Slade had made it clear that he wanted an apprentice, someone to follow in his footsteps. He’d specifically chosen Dick, handpicking him from a team of superpowered heroes. 

His stomach sank. 

Slade wanted him to be his son.

Dick cleared his throat, ignoring the growing tightness. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

“Don’t apologise,” signed Joey. “It happened a long time ago.”

He wondered if Slade was involved in Grant’s death. Was it too rude of him to ask?

“Did Slade…” Dick trailed off. 

“No,” signed Joey, answering his unspoken question. “But he might as well have.”

Dick reached out, pulling the two of them down onto the bed. They sat cross-legged, knees slightly touching. 

“I shouldn’t have brought it up.”

“No, it’s okay,” signed Joey. “Grant deserved better.”

Joey explained that when he and Grant were kids, they were abducted by Jackal, an international terrorist. He wanted information on a colonel Slade had killed and planned to use the boys as bargaining chips. 

When Slade arrived, he refused to cooperate with their demands. He stated that his “word was his bond” and that he wouldn’t betray his client. Instead, he attacked Jackal and his men, murdering them in cold blood, but he wasn’t quick enough. In the end, it was Grant who paid the ultimate price. 

“...they sliced our throats, cutting through my vocal cords,” signed Joey. He touched a fading scar on his neck. “But Grant wasn’t as lucky. They nicked his carotid artery, and he bled out in minutes.”

“I don’t remember much of what happened after that.” Joey stared at the floor. The light in his eyes faded. “There was a hospital. Mom stayed by my side the whole time, but Dad never visited. Not once.”

Dick watched him closely, making sure he understood every sign Joey used. 

“Mom confronted him. They fought.” Joey clenched his fists, then folded his arms at the wrists, representing the fight. “She never told me outright, but I think she’s the reason he lost an eye.”

Dick had always wondered about Slade’s missing eye. He knew that Slade had some kind of healing factor, one that could mend broken bones and torn ligaments. Yet, he couldn’t regrow an eye. 

“After that, Dad left. He kept up his mercenary work, and I grew up without him. When I finally saw him again, it was years later. Then Mom disappeared, and now I’m stuck here with him.”

Funny how things panned out for Slade, thought Dick. Granted, it might have just been a coincidence, but the timing bugged him. No wonder Joey thought Slade was involved in her disappearance. 

“You’ll find her,” comforted Dick. He pulled Joey into a hug, wrapping his arms around him. Joey sank into his embrace, resting his head on Dick’s shoulder. 

For a fleeting moment, they felt safe. 

Dick wandered backstage as the crew carried a large prop into the ring. One of the clowns, Harry, fixed his wig before he cartwheeled onto the stage. Although some things had changed, he easily recognised the place. 

It was Haly’s Circus. 

“You’re on in five minutes!” yelled the stage manager. 

“I, uh, what?” Dick turned around, utterly confused. “But I’m not a performer!”

“You sure?” he asked. “You're dressed for the part.”

Dick looked down and sure enough, he was wearing his old leotard, red and green with yellow trimmings. Then a familiar voice, one he hadn’t heard in years, called his name. 

“Dick, honey, come here!” 

It was his mother, his Dej. She looked exactly as he remembered. Her youthful face, untouched by the years that’d passed. He ran forward and hugged her, overwhelmed by her presence. 

“My beautiful boy, whatever is the matter?”

“Nothing, Dej. I’m just excited to perform.”

She smiled gently at him. Then, together, they chalked their hands and joined his father on stage. 

“Ready to fly, my little robin?” she teased.

Dick smiled. “Always.”

Fifty feet above the ground, at the top of the board, Dick waited for his cue to take off on the fly bar. 

Mr Haly, their ringmaster, addressed the excited crowd. “Ladies and gentlemen, children of all ages, for your entertainment and amusement, doing their death-defying act without the benefit of a net… The amazing! The stupendous! The Flying Graysons!!”

The crowd erupted into thunderous applause. 

“And tonight, starring the youngest aerial ace in history, Dick Grayson!!”

That was his cue. 

Dick leapt off the board, flying across the trapeze. He performed a double cutaway with a half twist before his father caught him. 

“And now, ladies and gentlemen, quiet please, as young Dick Grayson attempts the impossible! Only three performers in history have ever succeeded in this manoeuvre. The Quadruple Flip of Doom!!” 

His father swung back, gaining height, and then released Dick near the pinnacle of the swing. Dick flipped once, twice, thrice, four times in a row. The air stung his eyes as he came out of the somersault. He was caught by his mother, who grinned proudly at his feat. 

“Let’s hear it for Dick Grayson everyone!”

Silence. 

Dick looked down, confused. The crowd stared back at him, unwavering in their gaze. There were hundreds of them, every member of the audience, gawking. 

What was going on? Why weren’t they making any noise?

Mr Haly dropped his megaphone, then he too stared at Dick. The clowns, jugglers, dancers, and performers all stepped out from backstage and watched. Even the animals—the lions, horses, and elephants—froze and looked up, completely mesmerised.

All eyes were on him. His skin crawled. 

He was being watched. 

Dick blinked awake, slightly confused. He rubbed the grogginess from his eyes as his surroundings came into focus. Across from him, sleeping soundly, was Joey. His blonde hair fanned out over the pillow, haloing his face. They must’ve fallen asleep together. 

He slowly sat up, trying not to disturb him. The room was dark, apart from a sliver of light from the doorway. Dick crept over to the door and then froze. 

There, standing in his full armour, was Slade. A rush of fear shot through him, sharp and cold. 

“I-It’s not what it looks like,” stammered Dick. “We weren’t doing anything wrong.”

“I know,” drawled Slade. 

“I accidentally fell asleep and—” Slade’s words caught up to his sleep-addled brain. “You know?” 

“Of course, I do. If I had disapproved, I wouldn’t have let you become friends.”

Let him…? 

“I don’t know wh—”

“Shh, you’ll wake him up," Slade whispered, nodding towards Joey. He was still asleep, unaware of the conversation happening just outside his bedroom door. “He’s a good boy, but a bit too much like his mother. It’d be a shame if the same fate befell him.”

Dick’s eyes widened in alarm. “You don’t mean that,” he whispered. 

He might occasionally hit his son, but he wouldn’t actually kill him, would he?

“Keep in line and you won’t have to find out.”

Slade left Dick standing there, momentarily stunned. A shiver ran down his spine. 

Slade planned to use his own son against him. He wouldn’t even have to hurt Joey, just threaten to make him disappear, the same way he did to Joey’s mother. 

There was no way out. Every choice he made led to someone getting hurt. Dick felt trapped, like a caged bird in a too-small aviary. He didn’t know what to do. 

The days blurred together as Dick fell into a slump. Slade might not have known his identity, but he managed to make things worse. Dick was rapidly losing hope. The nanoscopic probes were still active in the Teen Titan’s bloodstream, and Joey, his only friend in this hellhole, was now at risk too.

After training, Joey pulled Dick aside and asked him about his change in mood. He noticed that Dick had been avoiding him and was worried he had done something to upset him. 

“Is this about the other night?” signed Joey, concern clear on his face. “I didn’t want to disturb your sleep. You looked so peaceful.”

Dick’s face heated. He’d almost forgotten they’d fallen asleep together. “No, it's fine. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Then what is it?” Joey reached out a hand and clasped his arm, begging him for an answer.

He should know the truth. Dick owed him that much. 

“You were right,” admitted Dick. “About your Mom, about everything. Slade did have something to do with her disappearance.”

“Explain.” Joey's hands trembled as he tried to sign. “Now!”

Dick told him everything, including Slade’s thinly veiled threats. They sat together in silence, letting his words sink in. Then Joey suddenly stood as the dam of emotions burst. 

“There’s something I haven’t told you,” he signed. “Something not even my father knows.”

“What is it?” asked Dick. 

Joey took a deep breath and exhaled through his nose. He was nervous. “I’m a metahuman.”

Oh.

Metahumans had superhuman abilities, either through chance, natural evolution, or genetic mutation. Slade was one. He had enhanced strength, speed, reflexes, and a healing factor. It made sense that Joey would inherit his meta gene. 

“I can understand why you didn’t tell me,” said Dick. He’d kept his identity hidden from day one, so it would be hypocritical to judge Joey for his omission. “We all have secrets to keep, but why reveal that now?” 

“I want to help you,” signed Joey. “My father needs to be stopped.”

Dick carefully phrased his answer as he considered all the options. “You’re right. Slade needs to be taken down, but I also don’t want you to put yourself at risk.” He glanced at the floor, unable to meet his gaze. “Not for me.”

Joey touched his shoulder, eyes shining with determination. “Please, let me do this.” He placed a flat hand over his heart and rotated it clockwise. Joey was serious about this.

“Okay,” conceded Dick. “Tell me what you can do.”

“I can separate my astral self from my physical body, then enter and control the bodies of others,” explained Joey. 

“Anyone? At any time?” asked Dick. 

His mind whirled with all the possibilities. 

“Almost,” signed Joey. “I need direct eye contact to initiate the possession.”

“Can you possess people through masks? Like my domino mask?”

“No, I need to be able to see your eyes.”

“Okay. What about Slade?” asked Dick, already starting to formulate a plan. “His eye is visible through his mask. Can you possess him?”

“I don’t know. I’ve never tried.”

“Would it matter if it's only one eye?”

Joey shrugged, unsure.

This changed everything. If Joey could possess Slade and control his body, they stood a real chance of taking him down without endangering his friends’ lives.

“We could test it,” suggested Dick. Joey wrinkled his nose, confused. “Not on Slade but on me. I’ll cover one of my eyes to see if it works.”

“You’ll need to take off your mask,” Joey pointed out. 

Dick considered his options. Keeping his identity hidden was vital, not only for him but also for Bruce and Alfred. When he first became Robin, he swore an oath to uphold the values Batman deemed necessary, but circumstances had changed. This might be his only chance to escape. 

But would Joey keep his secret? Could he trust him? 

Ever since he first met Joey, he’d been kind, empathetic, and helpful. Time and again, he proved himself to be a good person. Even before Dick knew his name, Joey had snuck him food and medicine, doing his best to help him through an impossible situation. 

Beyond everything else, Joey was his friend, and he had to trust that meant something. 

“Okay. Let’s do this.”

Worried that Slade could walk in on them at any moment, Joey pushed his desk up against the bedroom door to block it. Then they sat on top of his bed covers, facing each other. 

Dick slowly reached up and gripped his domino mask. His heart fluttered nervously. He’d never revealed his identity to anyone before, not even the Titans. He peeled off his mask and set it aside. His face was completely exposed. 

Joey looked at him in awe. “You have pretty eyes,” he signed. 

“Oh, uh, t-thanks,” stammered Dick, ignoring the creeping blush on his cheeks. 

Outside of Gotham, not many people recognised him as Dick Grayson unless he was standing next to Bruce. Someone like Joey, who wasn’t interested in celebrity gossip, might never have seen his picture before. It was refreshing. 

“Should we, um, try it?” asked Dick. He covered one eye before looking up. 

Joey’s green eyes darkened to charcoal-black. The whites were swallowed whole until only the pupil remained. Dick blinked, and then Joey was gone.

A tingling sensation shot up his spine, like someone had poured a glass of water down his shirt. Then he felt it, the presence of another person inside his mind. His limbs began to move of their own accord, straightening out.

Joey had possessed him. 

“It worked!” said Dick, ecstatic. His legs shook as he tried to sit up, but Joey held him down. “This is amazing. You’re amazing!”

Dick’s hands lifted as his fingers moved involuntarily. “I can’t hold it for much longer,” he signed. It was Joey’s way of communicating with him. 

“It’s okay. You can release me now.”

A rush of feeling returned to Dick as Joey reformed in the physical plane. 

“You did it!” yelled Dick. He excitedly hugged Joey, thrilled that it worked. “Do you know what this means? You’ll be able to possess Slade!”

“Of course, you’ll need to practise and build up your stamina first,” continued Dick. “I figure since you were able to possess me for about thirty seconds, with consistent training, you should be able to increase your control.”

Joey sat cross-legged on the bed, listening attentively as Dick put together a plan. He wanted them to practise every day until Joey could confidently possess him for five minutes. 

After a beat, Dick glanced over at Joey, smiling softly. “Once we escape, you should come with me,” he suggested. 

“My team and I can help find your Mom. Cyborg has the Titans Tower set up with state-of-the-art technology, and I’ve still got access to the Batcomputer database. Together, we should be able to narrow down the search.”

Dick held out his hand, extending it to Joey. “So, what do you think? Wanna join the Teen Titans?”

Joey hesitated, his eyes cast downward. Then his gaze flicked up, locking onto Dick. 

“Okay,” he signed, smiling. Joey grasped Dick’s hand, intertwining their fingers. They were in it together, right to the end. 

“Welcome to the team.” 

Every day, in between Slade’s lessons, Joey practised possessing Dick. The more he used his power, the easier it became, until he could wield it for several minutes at a time. Of course, it’d be more challenging to control someone actively fighting against it, but they had to try. 

Dick followed Slade to the sparring room as Joey trailed behind. They exchanged a glance. 

“Ready?” signed Joey.

Dick subtly nodded before walking ahead to catch up to Slade. 

Inside the room, against the wall, were ten Slade-Bots armed with energy blasters. Their weapons were set to stun, not kill. A feature Dick greatly appreciated. 

“Take out your M9,” ordered Slade. “We’re testing your shooting skills today.”

From his pocket, Slade took out a box of ammunition and handed it to Dick. 

“Get loaded. As soon as you’re done, I’ll start the clock.”

“Yes, sir.”

As he loaded his pistol, Joey moved behind the ballistic glass in the corner of the room. It was specially sectioned off so that Slade, or anyone watching, could observe without fear of stray projectiles. Joey stood next to Slade, keeping within arm’s reach. 

Perfect.

Time to put on a show.

The moment the clock started, the Slade-Bots opened fire. Dick leapt to the side, dodging their blasts. With no cover around, he’d have to confront them head-on. By now, he knew the only way to take them out permanently was to aim at the head or the chest, similar to hitting their “vital organs”. 

Dick angled his pistol and fired twice, taking out the nearest Slade-Bot. Both bullets tore through its armour, ripping into its internal processors. A thick black liquid gushed from its “wound”, spilling onto the floor. The Slade-Bot collapsed with a shriek. 

One down, nine more to go. 

Two of the robots approached him from opposite sides, trying to corner him. Dick kicked one in the leg, causing it to topple over, then he shot the other in the head. A spray of black ooze covered everything. 

Dick glanced at Joey, pretending to wipe the liquid from his eyes. Joey had positioned himself closer to Slade, ready to reach into his pocket. Now was the perfect moment for a distraction. 

Using a Slade-Bot as a shield, Dick rushed forward, shooting two more of the robots in the head. They screeched in pain, staggering backwards. Black ooze squirted out, covering the ballistic glass in a spray of black. 

“Mind the mess, apprentice!” barked Slade.  

“Yes, sir,” called Dick. 

When he looked back, Joey had moved away from Slade after successfully stealing what they needed. Dick rolled to the side, narrowly avoiding a blast. He needed to focus on destroying the remaining Slade-Bots.

A couple of minutes later, Dick stood in the middle of the room, surrounded by a pile of broken robots. Limbs had been ripped off; wires pulled from circuitry. It was all too easy. When he closed his eyes, he couldn’t help but imagine them as people. The guilt settled deep in his chest, heavy and suffocating. 

“Excellent work, Robin. Your form’s getting better, but we’ll need to work on your reload time,” said Slade, then he turned to Joey. “Get this cleaned up.”

When the lesson finished, Joey stepped outside to grab cleaning supplies. Dick joined him. He’d have approximately ten minutes before Slade expected him at the shooting range. The moment they were alone, Joey slipped a tablet into his hands—Slade’s tablet. He’d stolen it during the lesson. 

“Be quick,” signed Joey. “I need to slip it back before he notices.”

“I will,” promised Dick. 

He dialled the Titan’s number and prayed that one of them would answer. Someone picked up on the second ring. 

“Hello?” answered a familiar voice. It was Cyborg. “Anyone there? This better not be a prank call.” 

It’d been months since he last saw his friends, and apart from a quick glimpse of the Titans Tower, he had no idea if they were safe. His only source of information had come from Slade, who wasn’t very forthcoming. 

“Cy, it’s Robin.” 

“Robin!? Is that really you?” In the background, Dick heard the rest of the team pause what they were doing. “One sec, I’m putting you on speaker.”

Several voices yelled at once, overlapping each other. 

“Robin!” “Rob, are you there?” “What’s going on?!” 

“QUIET!!” shouted Starfire. Everyone stopped talking. “Friend Robin, it is good to hear your voice. We searched the whole city trying to find you. Tell us, where have you been?”

“Star, listen, I don’t have much time,” stressed Dick. The clock was ticking. He needed to get back to Slade soon. “I’m stuck in Slade’s underground facility. It’s in the old recycling plant on the west side of town. The one near the conservation forest.”

“I don’t understand,” said Starfire. “Why are you with Slade?”

“…he, uh, forced me to be his apprentice. I’ve been with him this entire time.”

“Oh, Robin. What’ve you gotten yourself into?” said Starfire, saddened. 

Hearing her disappointment hurt Dick more than he liked to admit. He’d hoped they could look past his previous mistakes and forgive him. To at least give him a chance to make things right. 

“You’ve got every right to be angry with me, but I’m not the only one trapped here. Slade’s son, Joey, needs your help, too. He’s just as much a prisoner as I am.” 

“Uh, did you say Slade’s son?” asked Beast Boy. “Since when did he have a son?!”

Joey fiddled with the cleaning supplies, pretending not to listen. Dick didn’t blame him. It was awkward enough as it was. 

“Please, I know I haven’t always been the best leader, but I’m asking you to trust me on this. Can you do that?”

“Of course, we trust you,” said Raven, speaking on behalf of the team. He heard the others agree with her. “Now, I assume you’ve got a plan.”

Thank God for Raven and her level-headedness. Everything else could be sorted out later. 

“We’re going to arrest Slade,” said Dick. “This might be our only chance to do so.”

“Then what’re we waiting for!?” shouted Cyborg. “Let’s go!” 

“No!” interrupted Dick. “Not yet. There’s something you gotta do first.”

“What’re you talking about?” asked Beast Boy, annoyed at the interruption.

“Do you remember Slade’s Chronoton Detonator?”

“You mean the fake detonator?” questioned Cyborg. “It failed. The beam didn’t do anything.”

“You’re wrong. The beam did work, just not in the way you think,” explained Dick. “It hit you with a blast of nanoscopic probes. Millions of them. They’re inside your bodies right now, attached to your red blood cells.”

“Inside us? Ew, gross!” said Beast Boy. 

Cyborg shoved him out of the way. “But my diagnostic sensors didn’t pick anything up?”

“Use the Tower’s enhanced sensors. Check on a nanoscopic scale.”

Cyborg typed into the control panel, activating the sensors. A few seconds later, it dinged, indicating an anomaly. “I can’t believe it! It picked up a signal. Coming from…inside of us!”

“Those are the probes. You need to destroy them. They’re the only reason I haven’t ditched Slade yet because if I do, he’ll activate them, destroying you from the inside.”

His team gasped. 

“So, that’s how he’s been controlling you! By threatening to destroy us?” said Raven. 

“Yes, now listen closely and I’ll explain the rest of the plan…”

Dick ended the call and wiped any trace of it from the data log. He handed the tablet back to Joey, who slipped it into his pocket.

“Thank you,” whispered Dick. He sniffed loudly, refusing to break down, hearing his friends’ voices, knowing they were safe. It made things all too real for him. 

“I’m sorry. I—” His face crumpled as everything he’d been holding back suddenly overwhelmed him. 

Joey rushed forward, pulling him into a hug. He wrapped his arms around Dick’s shoulders, refusing to let go. Dick wiped his face, trying to regain some semblance of control. 

“I’ll be fine,” he said. “Just…give me a minute.” Dick quietly composed himself. They had to get moving. Otherwise, it’d all be for nothing. “We need to go.”

“Wait,” signed Joey. 

He grabbed Dick’s hand and pressed it against his chest. His heartbeat was steady and calm, unlike his own. 

Joey stepped back, softly smiling. “You’ll be okay. You’re the strongest person I know.”

Dick returned the smile. He felt the same way about Joey and his resilience to keep going despite the setbacks. 

Taking a deep breath, Dick composed his features into a calm façade, ready to face Slade. 

Exactly ten minutes past midnight, Dick snuck out of his sleeping quarters to meet Joey. He carefully crept down the hallway, blending into the darkness. After a quick detour to grab some weapons, he entered the surveillance room fully armed.

No one was there. 

Dick traced his fingers along the metal frame of Slade’s chair, searching for the hidden console. He felt a slight divot and pried it open, revealing a set of buttons—the same ones he found during his first week there.

Joey quietly crept up behind him. His backpack was slung over his shoulder, packed with a handful of belongings. 

“Need any help?” he signed, pointing at the console.

“No, I’ve got this,” whispered Dick. “You should get ready to hide, though. The moment I set off the alarm, Slade will come running.”

“Okay,” he signed. “Be careful.” Joey crouched behind one of the large gears, hidden out of sight. 

Dick pressed the first button, opening the ceiling hatch. It was directly connected to the recycling plant above them. From the darkness, the Teen Titans dropped down one by one. Cyborg, Beast Boy, Raven, and Starfire hugged him tightly, glad to be reunited. 

“Were you able to remove all the nanites?” asked Dick.

“Every last one,” said Raven. “It took us hours.”

“Good. So, Cy, did you bring the cuffs?” asked Dick. 

“I’ve got ‘em right here,” whispered Cyborg. He showed Dick a pair of modified handcuffs. 

Dick smiled, then slipped them into his pocket. “Perfect. Raven, shroud the team in one of your shadows and then wait for my signal. Slade won’t know what hit him.”

The Titans followed his instructions and hid themselves in a dark corner. With everyone in place, Dick smashed the console, sending sparks flying. Several alarms sounded simultaneously, alerting Slade to his location. 

“What do you think you’re doing!?” yelled Slade. He beelined towards Dick, sword in hand. 

Dick immediately noticed his dishevelled uniform and missing armour plates. He’d been caught off-guard, just as planned. 

“Oh? Did I wake you up?” Dick smirked. “It’s a shame. You could’ve used the beauty sleep.”

Slade’s eye narrowed dangerously. “If this is just another half-hearted attempt to contact your friends, then I’ve got some bad news for you. The only communicator in this entire facility is—“

“In your pocket,” interrupted Dick. “It’s the tablet that you keep on you at all times.”

“The nanites—”

“Have been destroyed.” Dick stepped forward, encroaching on Slade’s space. “Do you know what the difference between you and me is?” he asked rhetorically. “I have friends who’ll back me up.” 

“Titans, attack!” he yelled, giving them the signal. 

The Titans, including Joey, sprang from their hiding spots. Cyborg and Starfire blasted the door, forcing Slade to dodge out of the way. He smacked straight into Raven, who wrapped a shadow around his legs.

Trapped, Slade swung his sword, aiming at her head. Beast Boy intercepted the blow as he transformed into a rhino. The blade bounced harmlessly off his tough exterior. 

Furious, Slade glared at Joey. “Stop them!” he ordered. 

“No,” signed Joey. “Not this time.” His eyes darkened, turning charcoal black. Then he entered Slade’s body, possessing him. 

Slade struggled, trying to regain control. “What is this? What’s going on?”

His sword hit the floor with a clatter. Joey had tossed it aside. 

“Now,” Joey signed using Slade’s hands. “While I’m in control.”

Dick sprinted forward and took out the handcuffs. They were specially made to dampen meta-abilities, rendering enhanced humans powerless. He’d saved a pair of them from his Gotham days. 

Joey, controlling Slade, held out his hands. “Hurry,” he signed. 

The cuffs snapped shut around Slade’s wrists, blocking his powers. But they also affected Joey, causing him to rematerialise in the physical plane. Slade, taking advantage of the chaos, looped his arms around Joey’s neck and put him in a chokehold. 

“Nobody move,” ordered Slade. 

Everyone froze. Starfire and Cyborg were closest to the doors, blocking the exits, while Beast Boy was helping Raven to get back on her feet. 

Dick slowly raised his hands, looking for an opening. “Don’t do anything rash,” he said. In his sleeve, he’d concealed a throwing-blade, ready to strike. 

Slade took a step backward, towards the central console. Joey thrashed in his grip, struggling to breathe. 

“Let him go, Slade!” demanded Dick. 

Joey tilted his head upwards, trying to make eye contact. When he met Slade’s gaze, his body vanished, entering the astral plane. With no hostage blocking his shot, Dick hurled the blade. It hit Slade’s shoulder, embedding deep into his flesh. 

“Argh!” yelled Slade, crying out in pain. Without his healing factor, he wouldn’t be able to remove it, not without bleeding out. 

Dick lunged forward, but Slade was quicker. He pressed a hidden button on the side of the console, triggering the self-destruction sequence. They didn’t get any warning before the facility imploded, collapsing in on itself. 

Dick was thrown across the room, smacking into the wall head-first. When he opened his eyes, half the ceiling had collapsed. Raven used her powers to shield them from falling debris, while Cyborg and Starfire used their superstrength to dig through the rubble, searching for an exit. 

Groaning, Dick sat up, clutching his bloodied head. “Where’s Joey? I don’t see him?”

“I dunno. Wasn’t he with you?” asked Beast Boy. 

“No! Hasn’t he rematerialized yet?” Dick leaned against one of the crumbling pillars, ignoring the pulsing pain in the back of his head. “Joey!? Are you here?”

Starfire charged her hand with a Starbolt and melted through a steel beam blocking their escape. “Robin, I do not think he is here. Perhaps, he’s on the other side.”

Desperate, Dick climbed the debris, trying to find a gap. 

“Joey!?” 

Beast Boy pulled him back. “Dude, don’t! If you disturb it, the whole building might collapse.”

Unfortunately, he was right. Dick needed help. 

“Cyborg,” called Dick. “What do your sensors say? Are they in there?”

Cyborg scanned the area, checking for heat signatures. 

“I’ve got five stationary bodies and two moving underground. I’m so sorry, Robin. They must’ve escaped into the sewers.”

“Damn it!” yelled Dick. 

He kicked a piece of rubble into the nearby wall. It shattered into hundreds of tiny fragments. Frustrated, Dick clutched his head, gripping his hair tightly. Blood coated his fingers. 

“It’ll be okay, man. We’ll find him,” reassured Cyborg. 

“Joey, he—“ Dick looked away, devastated. “I told him he could join the Titans. Be a part of our team.”

“And he will, just as soon as we get you some medical attention. That’s a nasty gash you’ve got there,” said Raven. 

Dick winced at the reminder. He probably had a concussion. 

Cyborg dislodged the last steel beam, freeing them from the facility. 

“Come on, Robin. Let’s go home,” said Starfire. She helped him climb through the hole, out into the open. 

The recycling plant had partially collapsed, covering everything in a thick layer of rubble. A cloud of dust whipped around his hair, blackening it with soot. Dick stood tall, staring up at the night sky. He’d gained his freedom, but at what cost? 

Whispering to the winds, he made a vow. “I promise you, Joey, I won’t stop looking until I find you.”