Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“I didn’t take you for a contract poacher,” says the man out loud to the seemingly empty night. 

A moment or two later, a woman steps out of the shadows. “I’m not. I just enjoy the view.”

“The view, huh?” says the man with a leer.

A sly smirk appears on her face. “The view,” she agrees.

“And will I get anything in exchange for being subject to your entertainment?”

“I suppose we can arrange something,” she tells him coyly. 

He throws his head back and laughs. “Ever so formal, sweetheart.”

“You enjoy it.”

He doesn’t deny her words.

They do in fact come to an agreement. Though that may depend on what an agreement was defined as. 

It’s rough, as usual. They don’t care for gentleness. 

“This doesn’t mean anything,” she tells him as she’s pulling her clothes back on. 

He blinks and takes it in stride. “Glad to hear that we’re still on the same page.”

It’s not the first time that they’ve met up. And it might not be the last either. At least not until one of them breaks off whatever this arrangement they have with each other.

And it ends without any hard feelings a few weeks later. It’s amicable enough for people in their field when they part ways. 

A month later when the cravings start, she tells herself that it means nothing when she looks at a test result. It means nothing when she chooses to keep the child. (Because this time, it's her choice.)

She doesn’t tell him. Yet. 

Months later, when she’s cradling her newborn in her arms, she marvels at how delicate the piece of him that he's unknowingly left her. 

Her daughter stirs and blinks up at her. Blue eyes that remind her of him. 

The nurse on duty asks if she’s thought of a name. She’s about to answer in the negative until a name comes to mind.

“Medea,” she says. “Her name is Medea Wilson.”

The nurse blinks in surprise. “Madea? From the show?”

“No,” she corrects. “Medea, like the myths.”

Medea, for the cunning sorceress who helped the hero. She didn’t care for the way that people associated the name with tragedy or murder. She saw the story as someone who was dangerous when crossed, a lesson that the foolish hero learned the hard way. 

Her daughter’s name should reflect her parentage, the daughter of Lady Shiva and Deathstroke, and of her hopes that she would grow to be a fierce individual herself.

She wonders at first whether she would be able to take care of her Medea.

For a while, things are alright. 

She is careful, not letting any sliver of information slip out to the world. Especially to Cain. There's the off chance that he would ensure that she would be the only other person to have her ability. Medea is still young, she has no idea whether her gift has been passed on or not. 

But then there's that encounter. Someone had dared to encroach on her safe house. They hadn't gotten close to Medea, but it was still too close for comfort. The intruder was promptly taken care of and she realizes a few things. 

One, she is not the mothering type. But could he even step up to the plate?

She'd give him a chance, at the very least. 

Medea won't be left with someone who can't provide for her.

There are other options if he can't.

Two, she has no plans to give up her lifestyle. Even for her Medea.

That encounter reminds her that the fight lives in her blood, never fully sated. 

The adrenaline is addicting. 

Three, she wants a successor. Which doesn't necessarily mean from her blood, but that would be preferred. Though she finds it slightly hard to imagine, not when her preferred successor is a mere baby. 

But she wants the ultimate fight. To be remembered for her glory. To have the next one reborn from her defeat.

Sandra is in the past, Shiva is the present. 

Her mind is made up.

She'll give Wilson a chance. He deserves to know that he has a daughter at the very least.

So she sends a message to Wilson, he reaches out, and they arrange a time and place to meet. 

They meet in a relatively neutral place, as neutral as they can get in this profession. 

Shiva has the two of them disguised as a normal mother-daughter couple. Medea is a quiet child, sitting still. Letting her style her hair into pigtails without putting up a fuss. She’s just about finished when she spots Wilson in the faraway distance. 

He nods at her in greeting when they make eye contact and starts heading in her direction. 

As he gets closer, she sees him freeze slightly when he sees Medea on her lap. But he continues on.

“Hello,” he says, sitting down at the empty chair left for him. “And who is this?” he says, gesturing to Medea. 

“Medea.”  My daughter. Yours, if you choose.

“I see. I...May I hold her?” he asks. When Medea is passed into his arms, he marvels at the child. “Medea Wu?” he hedges carefully. 

“Wilson, if you’d like,” she offers.

He hums in agreement. “Medea, a fierce name for a little girl.”

“I’m sure she’ll grow into it.”

“I think she will.” Medea tugs at his shirt, curious as to the new person in front of her. “Hello, Medea,” he says softly. His heart melts when she smiles up at him. After he looks at Shiva. “But why?”

She raises an eyebrow in question.

“Why now? You could have gone for years without me knowing. So why did you choose to tell me?”

Shiva pauses, musing over her thoughts. “You deserved to know of her existence. And my lifestyle does not suit her.”

He gives her a skeptical look. “If you are referring to our jobs, then mine is just the same.”

“But you don’t have Cain to deal with.”

A frown flickers on his face. “What does he have to do with this?”

“Everything.” 

“You’re going to have to elaborate.”

So she does, she keeps it vague, keeping only to the details. Of a deal made and fulfilled with the birth of her eldest. She does not want to see the pity on Wilson’s face, she loathes feeling weak.

He does not show her any pity outwardly, nor does he press for more than he needs to know. For that she is grateful.

They move to other topics, of Medea and what things he would need to know for caring about her. In the middle of the chat, they are approached by a photographer, one that had been snapping photographs of all the guests as a souvenir. 

“Would you like a photo of your family?” they offer. 

Wilson and her share an amused smile and nod. 

They find themselves directed in specific positions. Medea is on her lap while he is beside her.

“Excellent, and if you look down at your daughter, sir,” directs the photographer to Wilson. “And perfect. Stay there.” 

A flash of light and two polaroids are printed out. 

“Here you are, enjoy!” says the woman, leaving them alone and moving on to the next group of tourists.

Inspecting the photos, they find a smile appearing on their faces. Medea looks adorable in the photo, and with how the photographer had directed them to pose, they wryly think that they can see how they could be mistaken for a family.

Slade thinks this day has not gone the way he planned. But in a good way. He thought of many possible scenarios but never did this cross his mind as a possible one.

As he glances over at the photo, he comes to a realization. He never doubted for a second that the child wouldn’t be his. 

And that’s a first for him. It’s not like people have never tried to pass someone off as his child or some long-lost relative.

What did that say about him?

And about her?

When he saw Medea from far away, he wondered about her presence. And who she was to him. His heart started beating quicker at the possible answers.  His daughter?

Deathstroke is a ruthless mercenary. Slade Wilson is...someone that Deathstroke would call a soft-hearted, sentimental old fool. And they just might be right. 

Once he got closer and held her in his arms, his mind was made up. This was his daughter, there was no doubt about it. He would protect her even if Shiva didn’t ask him for it. 

Medea shares many similarities to her mother, with Shiva’s colouring and her hair colour. Hints of himself are harder to find, but if he looks hard enough, he thinks he can see hints that the infant shared with Grant and Joey at this age. But it’s her eyes that confirmed it for him. Any doubts of his paternity were thrown out the window the moment she looked at him. They are the same shade of blue as his.

As they say their goodbyes, Slade tells her, “Sandra, you can visit her. I won’t mind. I understand you have your reasons, but I want you to know that.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” she says, smoothing out Medea’s hair and pressing a kiss to her forehead. “Goodbye, my little witch.” Turning back to him, she nods in goodbye. “Thank you.”

When Slade returns from his trip with an unexpected tagalong, Billy gapes at him. “Wha–who is that?”

“My daughter, Medea. She is staying with me. Her mother and I have agreed on this.”

“And you’re serious about this?” asks Billy. At his friend’s confusion, he elaborates. “This isn’t a brief obsession; because this is a small child that we’re talking about. You can’t just give her away or punt her off to someone when you grow tired of her.”

“I would never,” he says, aghast at the idea of giving his child to a stranger. 

A sigh escapes Billy. “Look, Slade. You’re my friend, but I have to tell you that your parenting skills are lacking.”

“I–'' It's on the tip of his tongue to protest and prove him wrong. Then he realizes that there is a grain of truth, so he nods in acceptance. “I know,” he says, sounding defeated.

“And you have a baby now. She’s not like Grant or Joey, who you can leave to Adeline. I can’t be her full-time babysitter–not if you plan to spend your days, as usual, jumping from contract to contract.”

“I...”

“She’s your daughter, and if you want to be her father, you’re going to have to be active in her life. Not someone who appears and disappears when they want to. You’re going to have to make a choice about your lifestyle.”

Slade nods, deep in thought. “You...you make good points.” Billy had a point, he barely had the experience with his two elder boys. He thinks his chances of being a less than abysmal parent die a little with Medea. 

Billy stays silent, waiting for his response.

After a quiet moment, Slade speaks. “I...I don’t know if I will be much better being present, but for her, I will try. For Grant and Joey too. They don’t deserve to have a father that disappears for months without a word.”

“If you’re willing to put in the effort, it’s already a step in the right decision.”

Slade gives him a weak smile. “I hope so.” Then his expression changes to one of determination. “I’m going to need a paternity test.”

A look of surprise flitters on Billy’s face. “What? I thought you said she was yours.”

“She is. But I don’t want anyone taking her away, I rather have the proof right there so they won’t take her away.”

“I see. I’ll help you with that.”

“Thank you.”

And just like that Medea Wilson officially joins his family. 

Somewhere hidden, her mother smiles before disappearing into the shadows. 

She made the right choice to introduce him to her.

Take care, my little witch.

Chapter Text

The first few weeks with Medea are an experience. A very new one. The first few nights are almost sleepless for him because she is unused to her mother's sudden absence. While he understands that this is a big change for her, he also misses the sleep that he used to get. 

Did he have experience with children? Yes. 

But with a baby? By himself? Not really. 

Slade has Billy there to help, but even then, between the two men, neither is very good at childcare. 

He is working on it. 

Billy suggested parenting books; he bought one before tossing it into the trash. 

It was useless. 

Medea cried more from the advice from the book than when he tried to handle it himself. It was easier to just drive around aimlessly until she fell asleep. It’s a miracle in itself that he manages to coax her to fall asleep sometimes. 

The addition of his daughter is one that he is still getting used to. Sooner or later, he'll have to reveal Medea's existence to the rest of the children; he won't hide her away like a secret. It slips his mind that it’s his turn with Grant and Joey until his eldest appears on his doorstep. 

“Where’s Joey?”

“School trip,” said Grant with a frown. “Don’t you remember? Mom said she told you.”

“Right,” he says, moving by to let him in. “It slipped my mind. I was hoping Joey would be here for this too, but go put your stuff upstairs in your room and meet me afterwards.”

“Okay,” says Grant with a wary look. “You’re not moving again, are you?”

“Just go. I’ll explain once you come back.”

Once his eldest makes his way in, he locks the door and realizes he should have said something about the noise he was making. On another visit, he wouldn’t have cared. But Medea was still asleep in the living room. She was definitely going to wake up. 

Oh no. 

And just as he curses himself for his forgetfulness, Grant yells, “Why is there a baby here?” 

Within seconds, there’s a cry from Medea. Slade sighs. And just when he had gotten her to fall asleep. All that progress down the drain. “Did you have to scream that?” he asks tiredly.  This was not how their introduction to each other was supposed to go. 

“Yes, especially when  you  don’t tell me why you have a random baby here.”

“This...she’s Medea, your half-sister,” says Slade, picking up Medea, trying to soothe her cries.

“And why is she here?” pressed Grant. He eyed her warily, as if unsure how to react to her presence or her identity as his half-sister.

“Her mother has decided to leave her in my care.”

“For how long?”

“Indefinite.” Dryly, he says, “If you wanted to ask, you could have done it without the shouts. Do you know how long it took for me to get her to fall asleep?”

“Oops.” A sheepish look flickered on his face, one that soon turned to curiosity at the quiet baby. “Now that she’s not crying, can I see her?”

Slade hums in acknowledgement and places Medea back into the swing. “Come over. I don’t think she’s going back to sleep anytime soon.”

Permission given, Grant peeks into the baby swing, and Medea looks at him curiously. 

“She’s so small,” he marvels.

“You were the same at this age. Joey, too,” says Slade, watching the two interact with each other. Inwardly, he’s relieved that Grant was okay with her presence. Because out of all his children, he was the prickliest. If Grant’s meeting with her went well, then he’s a lot more confident introducing Joey to her. 

A dubious look is sent his way at his words, but Grant nods.

Then a quiet gasp leaves Grant when Medea’s hand wraps around his pinky. 

She giggles at his expression and babbles something that has Grant almost melting on the spot. 

After that disastrous first meeting, Grant makes up for it with their ‘second’ meeting. By that, he means he’s smitten and has decided by himself that he’s going to protect her as he does for Joey.

Throughout his stay, Grant becomes a nearby sight for Medea. Always asking questions about babies and whatnot. 

Medea is a bit more manageable too, with less crying. There’s someone new who's caught her attention. 

“Pops, so when exactly do babies start speaking?” asks Grant curiously. 

“It varies. Joey had words by ten months, you took a little longer. Thirteen, I think?”

“And how many months is Medea?”

He pauses to think it over before answering, “Nine.”

“I’m going to teach her how to say her name,” decides Grant. 

“Good luck,” he says wryly. “It’s a little complicated for her, maybe try something easier?”

Grant frowns at the realization, but grins. “I’ll just make it easier then. Medea,” he muses. “Medea, Dea? Medi?” Just then Medea giggles and Grant grins. “Medi, it is.”

Shaking his head in amusement, he leaves his eldest and his youngest alone. Later he’ll ask, “Any luck?”

“Not yet.” 

Slade’s about to suggest teaching her an easier word, like ‘dada’ when a stubborn look appears on Grant’s face. 

“Just you wait, Pops.”

The next few months are going to be fun. He also wonders how successful his eldest will be. 

To his relief and his delight, the introduction to Joey is smooth, much smoother than Grant’s first introduction. The two take to each other fairly easily. Sometimes, he finds Joey in the same room keeping an eye on her while she crawls around the room or fiddles with her toys. 

And out of everyone, Joey is the only one who can stop Medea from crying the quickest. 

He isn’t jealous. 

Not at all. 

Maybe just a little. 

Still, it was better than Grant. Grant made her cry the most, though nine times out of ten, it’s an accident. 

“Pops, look!” 

He walks into the living room to see Medea standing, though with a tight grip on their coffee table. 

“She can walk!”

And to his surprise, she is. She does slightly. She takes a step. It’s wobbly. But she stays standing. 

Then another. 

And another. 

Until there’s no more table to hold onto. Looking around, she tries to see if there is another hold for her to grab onto. 

Grant encourages her to let go and take a step toward him. “You’ll be fine, Medi. I’ll catch you.”

She does. And for the glory of three seconds, she stays standing without any help. Then she faceplants onto the ground. 

Grant stares in shock. Too out of it to remember to pick his sister back up.

Slade winces, already heading toward her just as she struggles to get back up. 

Medea scrunches up her face slightly. 

Grant pales. 

She opens her mouth and a wail escapes her. 

“Medi, wait. Please don’t cry. It’s alright,” says Grant, panicking. 

She cries even harder.

“Help?” he asks, glancing at him. A frown appears on Grant’s face. “Stop laughing, Joey. It’s not funny.”

“What happened to 'catching her'?” signed Joey with a smug look. “You made her cry again.”

“It was an accident.”

Slade sighs. “Boys now isn’t the time.” He picks up Medea, who’s still crying. “Next time pick up your sister first.”

Sheepish looks appear on their faces.

Slade learns pretty quickly that as a baby, Medea is the quietest of all his children. She babbles like the others, but it’s not much. Instead, she prefers to gesture to things. Oftentimes, she gets her point across easily, they rarely have to guess. 

Like right now. 

“No, Medea,” says Slade with a sigh. “We’re not getting that. Put it down.”

She blinks at him with those deceptively innocent eyes of hers and refuses to let go of the baby seal plushie in her hands. 

“No.”

She refuses to break eye contact and juts out her chin, daring him to pull it out of her grasp. 

It’s ridiculous, he’s a grown man having a staring contest with an 18-month-old baby.

“You have a rabbit already,” he says weakly, trying to entice her to take back the rabbit. 

Her hold on the baby seal tightens and she shakes her head. 

“Fine,” he sighs. “You can hold on to it until we leave.”  They can just walk around with it, she’ll get tired of it eventually, right?

He learns that she is stubborn like him. Maybe too much like him. They walk around the whole store twice yet she still refuses to let go of the baby seal. 

“Medea, please. You have so many at home.”

She pouts. 

And he doesn’t have the time to wait it out, not when he had other errands to run today. So he gives in. “If you get this, I don’t want any complaints for the rest of the day. No more toys for today, alright?”

Her head tilts to the side slightly as if she was trying to discern whether he was lying. A second passes before she nods. 

Just like that, Medea has gained yet another plushie to her collection. 

Billy calls him weak for falling for that, but Slade? He sees it as practical. 

For the price of a few dollars, he doesn’t have to deal with any other requests for the rest of the day. 

Her second birthday is coming soon and by this point, Slade wonders if he should be worried when she still hasn’t said her first word yet. 

Billy said they should wait a little longer before they got too worried. He thought that she just didn’t want to. And to enjoy the silence while it lasted.

But as her second birthday inches closer and closer, Slade finds himself spending a lot more time on the internet seeing what he could do. 

Does he bring her to a doctor? Should he wait? 

By this point, everyone has tried to get her to say something. Yet she stubbornly refuses to. They’ve pleaded and attempted to bribe her with sweets to say something. Medea remains silent. It’s like she knows they are bribing her. She’ll take the candy then she’ll babble nonsensical words to their disappointment.

Behind the scenes, bets are placed. Each of them trying to guess what her first word is. Grant has changed his answer, confident that he’ll be her first word.

During all this, Joey becomes her favourite family member as he doesn’t try to force her to talk. Sometimes Slade will catch her trying to mimic the signs that Joey did.   

Then her second birthday finally arrives. And perhaps the greatest gift is that her first and second word appears too. Her third word is one that they try to forget.

“How’s the birthday girl?” asks Grant, scooping up Medea and swinging her around. She giggles. “Turning two today, are we?”

Medea nods; then when she spots Joey, she makes a grabbing gesture and Joey picks her up. 

“Medi, any words for me today?”

She turns back to Grant and grins. 

“No? Not even Grant? Or Joey?” he cajoles. Then spotting Slade, he asks, “Any luck?”

“I wish,” sighed Slade. “I wish.”

There’s a crash and a quiet sound of oops. Sighing, Slade makes his way to the living room where there’s a cushion on the ground and a shattered vase right beside it. And right beside that are the three little brats.

“Alright, what’s the story this time?” he asks tiredly. 

“I didn’t do it,” signs Joey. 

From beside him, Medea attempts to mimic Joey’s actions. 

At the same time, Grant denies any involvement. 

“I’m giving the two of you one more chance to explain who did it.”

Both of his boys instantly protest, outing each other as the culprit. Medea watches curiously before toddling toward him. 

Medea by his side, Slade looks at the mess then at the two squabbling children. “Okay, if we can’t come to a consensus, then both of you can clean it up.” Then he looks down at Medea and jokingly says, “Do you know who did it?” 

Her mouth opens, but he misses what it was as Grant’s voice interrupts them as he continues arguing with Joey. So he watches as she gives him a grin and wanders back to Grant’s side. Tugging at Grant’s pant leg, her mouth opens but he’s not quite sure what she’s saying either.

“Wait did anyone hear that?” asks Grant. “I think Medi said something.”

“Grant, nice try. But you’re not getting out of–,” says Slade.

“No, really,” he insists. “Medi, say it again? Please?”

She giggles. “Grant!” says Medea, pointing at him. 

Mystified, Slade blinks in shock while Grant crows triumphantly. “I knew it. I knew it. Hah!”

“Grant!” repeats Medea with a grin. 

“You realize your sister just outed you, right?” asks Billy dryly. 

“What proof do you have?” asks Grant, ignoring his words. “She only said my name.” Attention back to his sister, he picks her up. “Good job, Medi! What about Joey? Can you say Joey?” he asks, pointing toward Joey. 

And with all the seriousness a two-year-old can have, Medea tells him. “Grant, silly.”

Grant stared slack-jawed at her answer. Meanwhile, Joey was laughing silently. Billy and Slade were guffawing at his expression. 

“Yeah, Grant. You’re being silly,” signs Joey.

Eventually, when the joy at hearing her speak dies down a little, they find themselves cutting the cake. Medea is quick to dismantle her slice of cake – albeit rather messily. So Slade is tasked with keeping the cake off her clothes while he listens to Grant recount his day. 

“–he was being such a little shit, it was crazy. You should have heard what Dean said.”

“No swearing,” he says. “Your mother says you’ve been swearing too often.”

“It’s not that bad, you should listen to the other kids at school. But anyways, Alex was a shit– What?”

“Your sister is going to repeat that.”

“She only knows two words right now, we’ll be fine.”

Then Medea decides to prove Grant wrong when she opens her mouth. Instead of eating another bite of cake, she gleefully says, “Shit!”

Grant stares at his sister in shock for the second time that day. “Shit, wait no! Medi, don’t say that.”

Unfortunately for him, Medea keeps repeating the word. “Shit! Shit! Shit!”

“No!” says Slade, aghast. “No, Medea.” He sends his eldest an exasperated look. “What did I tell you?”

“Sorry?” says Grant sheepishly. “I didn’t know?”

Billy and Joey exchanged amused looks while Grant unsuccessfully tries to convince Medea to say something else. 

“Medi, please?”

“Shit!”

And when her fourth word is “please”, everyone unanimously agrees that ‘please’ is now her third word. Nobody will talk about her actual third word, at least not until she’s older.

After that incident, they try to speak in other languages so they can swear. Because of this, Slade thinks Medea is probably going to be the only child who can understand five or six different languages before she starts elementary school.

But they very soon learn the pitfalls of switching languages. Medea picks up on the worst possible words to repeat. 

One example was Medea learning the Dutch word for ‘that one’. It’s how Slade ends up attracting lots of weird looks when the two of them are at a grocery store. 

“Die! Die! Die!” she says, gesturing to a nearby kid who’s got candy in his hands. 

“No, Medea. We’re not getting that one. It’s his.”

“Die!” she repeats. 

By this point, the number of concerned looks directed at him increases. He gives up on today’s errands. 

“Medea, let’s go for ice cream?”  Please stop staying ‘die’.

“Yeah!” she cheers, and he hightails out of the grocery store with her. 

That, and Grant continues to prove that he is a big influence on her developing speech. Maybe it was a younger sibling thing, thinks Slade. Both Joey and Medea seemed to idolize Grant.

Medea liked to follow both of her brothers around. She’s crafty too, knowing which one of her siblings to ask for certain things. For swings and piggyback rides, it was Grant. For music and art, it was Joey. 

But if Slade had to guess her favourite sibling, he’d probably say Grant was her favourite. It probably weighed heavily in his favour that Grant snuck her candy when he thought nobody was looking.

Medea's presence at his dad's house soon becomes a constant. It's also something to look forward to. To him, it seemed like only yesterday was he being introduced to his baby sister. 

“Stupid French homework,” muttered Grant, attempting to finish up his homework. Then he sneaks a peek across the table at his sister who was busy scribbling on sheets with some crayons. 

He sighed with relief when she didn’t repeat what he said.  Thank God. 

He’s in the middle of a tricky sentence when he curses at the realization of the amount of homework he had left. “What the fuck is this?”

“Fuck,” echoes a small voice from beside him. 

At the voice, he almost falls out of his chair in shock.  Shit. Shit. Shit. Pops was going to kill him now. When did Medi move to stand by his chair?

“No, Medi. We don’t say that. I said ‘puck’. Can you say that?”

Dutifully, she opens her mouth. But all hope flies out the window when she says, “Fuck.”

If Grant wasn’t so worried that his dad was going to kill him for teaching his three-year-old sister how to swear, he might have laughed at the situation. 

But time is against him and an idea pops into mind. He gestures to the baby seal plushie in her arms. “Medi, that is a phoque.”

She repeats it to the best of her abilities. It comes out sounding like the ‘f’ word. Which was close enough to what he was trying to go for. 

He watches as Medea toddles off into another room and prays that she won’t run into Pops just yet. At least not until he’s back at Mom’s place. 

Then he curiously watches as she returns with another plushie. She holds it out to him expectantly. 

“No, Medi. I can’t play right now. I have homework. Later?”

She shakes her head. Then she points to the seal plushie from earlier and repeats the word that he just taught her. Then she gestures to the one in her hands. 

“Oh.” He tilts his head to study the deer plushie in her hands. “Ok.” He flips through his homework to look for the right term. “Erm...biche?”

Medea repeats it and beams when he nods. 

They repeat the procedure with the other plushie she had brought along with her. A rooster. 

“Coq,” he says, pointing at the rooster. 

“Coq,” repeats Medea, though it comes out sounding a bit more explicit.

Hehe, this was interesting. Younger siblings were such fun. 

“Medi, do you want to play?”

“Yeah!”

This is how Slade and Billy find them a few hours later, Medea is asleep beside Grant while he’s dutifully finishing up his homework. 

“She didn’t bother you?” asks Slade, gently picking up the toddler to carry her to her bedroom. 

“Nope,” says Grant. “Medi was the best. She helped me with my homework. But I have some math questions left to do.”

“Sure, just give me a minute, I’ll help once I get her in her room,” he says, gesturing to the child in his arms. 

As Slade disappears upstairs, Billy looks at Grant, causing him to fidget in his seat from the scrutiny. “What did you do?”

“What?”

“What subject?”

“Oh, you know, the usual. French.”

“Your  baby  sister helped you with French,” says Billy incredulously. 

“Help comes in unexpected forms,” says Grant with a shrug. He’s nervously sweating at the interrogation. 

Billy gives him one last glance before leaving. 

It’s only about a few months later that Slade truly understands what Grant meant by Medea helping him out. 

Medea’s being picked up from daycare and when the staff tell him how clever Medea is for her age. That she had been able to communicate with another kid who had only spoken French. 

Let’s be honest, kids at that age could probably talk in babbles and still understand each other. 

Still, he nods and takes the compliments – all the while wondering when Medea understood that much French. They all could understand it, but Grant was the only one who really spoke it to her when he was doing homework. And that was only because Grant claimed Medea was a great help with his French homework.

So on the way home, he asks Medea. “Parlez-vous français?”

“Oui,” she tells him seriously. “Je parle français.”

He raises an eyebrow and nods.  Well, she either understood him, or that was the only thing she knew how to say.

They stop by the supermarket, where he points out random objects for her to name in French.

“Apple.”

“It’s...it's a pomme?”

“Banana?” he asks. 

“Anana!”

“Close, Medea. Banane.”

“Banane?” At his nod, she says, “Ananas!” when she notices the fruit right beside it. 

“Good job.”

Things seem to be going pretty well, which is when the other shoe drops. While making dinner, Medea is running back and forth. She’ll tug on his pant leg and show him the object in her arm. 

She seems eager to show him how much French she knew. For the most part, she knew quite a bit. Though once in a while, she slips up and he corrects her. 

That is until he has a mini heart attack when she drops the ‘f’ bomb. “Medea?” He turns around, and the relief immediately sets in upon seeing the baby seal plushie in her arms. 

“Dad, look! A fuck!”

All he can do is nod and watch her run off to grab something else. His mind is still whirling at how well pronounced it was. It didn’t even sound like the word ‘phoque’ which was what it was supposed to be. 

She returns with a toy deer and a toy rooster, and he internally dies a little at her French pronunciation. It definitely sounds a lot more explicit than it should. 

That’s it. Grant was getting no more French practice with his sister. 

“Mom, can I hang out with Derek today?” asks Grant, having just come home from school.

“Not today.” Before he can protest, Adeline tells him, “I just got off the phone with your father.” 

“Is he coming to visit?” asks Grant, perking up at the mention of Slade.

“No. We had a most peculiar conversation about your french homework and of your...half-sister.” She notes how quickly her eldest had paled. “Ah, so you do know what I’m talking about.”

“I–”

“Grant, why on earth do you think it would be appropriate to teach her that? She’s three.”

“It’s not my fault French has words that sound similar to English curse words!” protests Grant. At his mother’s glare, his protests die before they can even begin. “I thought it was funny,” he admits. 

Adeline sighs at his explanation. “Regardless, you are to either finish your French homework here or only ask your father for help when you’re at his house. No more teaching the three-year-old how to swear.”

“I didn’t teach her how to swear!”

“So her third word wasn’t ‘shit’?”

He flushes at the reminder and wisely quietens, having realized that he would be fighting a losing battle.

Chapter Text

Billy peeks into the living room. Inside are Slade and Medea playing with her tea set. It was rather comical as Slade was significantly larger than the toy table that he was seated by. Yet there he was, seated right by the table and patiently listening to the five-year-old talk while replying.

Though he blinks at the conversation topic. Not what he was expecting when Slade said he was playing princess with Medea – he’d half been expecting to see Slade with makeup smeared messily on his face–, but okay.

He was teaching her how to conduct negotiations? Between plushies?

And of responsibilities that a ruler would have to take on and how it would affect the ‘people’ that she would rule over. 

It was endearing to watch the two interact. He’s glad that Slade didn’t have as much trouble with Medea as Slade originally believed he would have with her. 

Now that he thought about it, it made sense that Slade would play with her in a way that was also educational. It was such a Slade trait.

Slade hums in agreement at Medea’s words. “That sounds like a good plan, but what if–” he gets cut off when he notices Billy looking at them. “Did you need something?”

“Uncle Billy!” says Medea with a beam. 

“Hi kiddo,” he says, playfully ruffling her hair. Then he directs at Slade, “Ah, I came to tell you the money was transferred to us.”

“Thanks, but you know you didn’t have to come all this way to tell me that.”

“I know, but I wanted to visit my favourite goddaughter.”

“She’s your only goddaughter,” says Slade. “You just wanted an excuse to see me with makeup smeared all over my face, didn’t you?”

“No.”

“You hesitated.”

“You’re imagining things,” he denies. Billy turns to Medea. “Tell your father that he’s being silly.”

“You’re being silly,” she parrots.

“Princess, what have we said about repeating things?” 

 She shakes her head. 

“Exactly. We don’t.” A malicious smirk appears on Slade’s face. “Now I think, we’ve had enough negotiations and treaties today. Let me teach you another thing about running a kingdom. You’ve gotta protect it from threats.”

“Threats?” she echoed curiously.

“Your Uncle Billy has volunteered to be the menacing dragon. Wanna learn how to slay a dragon?”

“Yeah!”

His goddaughter’s enthusiasm combined with Slade’s smug look bodes nothing well for him. Billy warily backs up from the two. “Come on, isn’t the dragon supposed to kidnap the princess?”

“Nope. In this kingdom, princesses slay dragons.”

“Slade...” he complained. 

“Get him, Princess. I’ll help.”

Medea shrieks in delight while Billy pales. 

His princess has grown up so quickly. Some days, Slade can’t believe that she’s walking and talking with ease now. It seemed that she was only a few months old yesterday.

As she grows older, he slowly takes jobs that he can stray further away from home. For the first few months that she had lived with him, he had taken a brief break from his work. At first, the jobs were always close by; then, they started going further. For now, he avoided any overnight jobs. He still wasn’t comfortable leaving her for such a long time. 

The furthest he got was a few hours away from the city they lived in. 

As Slade opens the front door, he can hear Medea inside chatting cheerfully with Billy.

She must hear the door opening too, as he can see her pause at the sound. “Dad?” 

“It’s me, kiddo.”

Hopping off her chair, she’s a blur of colour as she runs into his arms. “Dad!” says Medea with a grin. “You’re back early!”

“I am,” he agrees. At her pleading look, he swings around the toddler as she laughs in delight. “And how’s my princess been? Have you been good for your Uncle Billy?”

She nods as he sets her down. “I have.” Conspiratorially, she confides in him. “Don’t tell Grant, but Uncle Billy said I was better than him when he was younger!”

Slade chuckles at that. That wasn’t hard to top; Grant had been a terror as a toddler. Both Joey and Medea were miles ahead of that. 

“Dad!” she whines. “You have to promise.”

“Okay, okay,” he says, arranging his face to look serious. “Promise.”

“Pinky promise?” she asks, holding out her pinky.

He’s trying to bite back a laugh at how serious she looks at her words. “Pinky promise,” he says seriously, hooking his pinky around hers.

She beams and his heart, honest to god, skips a beat at how adorable she is. “Je t’aime, Papa!”

“And what happened, then? Well, in Whoville they say – that the Grinch’s small heart grew three sizes that day,” thinks Slade back to the story from last night. “Je t’aime aussi, Medea.”

Medea is only a few years old, yet she charms people no matter where she goes. 

From her brothers to strangers, Slade has seen it all. 

Grant and Joey try to hide it, but he notices it all the time when they sneak her treats of all sorts. He just turns a blind eye to it. 

Case in point, he had brought her to walk around a shopping mall. Medea had found a faux pearl necklace, proudly showing it to him. To this day, he’s not sure how it exactly happened. They hadn’t stayed in there long, nor did they talk to the sales associate. He had told her to put the necklace back, with her agreeing easily. Things were going to plan until the sales associate had protested. For how adorable Medea was, she gets the necklace for free. He went in only because Medea had run into the store, but she leaves with a strand of faux pearls around her neck.

Then there’s the supermarket. They were selling quite a few lanterns for the Mid-Autumn festival. Medea had looked up in awe to see all the lanterns. She’d tugged on his sleeve and pointed upwards. 

“Is that the one you want?”

She nods. 

As he turns to the cashier, a sheepish look appears on their face. “Those are for display only –”

“That’s alright.” To his daughter, he says, “Let’s choose another one, Princess.”

“Oh, that’s alright, she can take that one,” interrupted the cashier. “These are going to get thrown out by the end of the day anyways. So why don’t I just pull that one down for you?”

“Are you sure? We don’t want to cause any trouble for you.”

“Ah, it’s alright. I’m the supervisor.”

Before Slade can say anything, he finds Medea holding the very lantern that she’d pointed out to him. “What do we say, Princess?”

“Thank you Miss!” she chirps. Medea beams, admiring the lantern. “It’s really pretty!”

“Aww, it’s nothing.”

Sooner than he realizes, Medea nears the age that most parents send their children to preschool.

He considers it. But in the end, Medea never attends preschool or kindergarten. Not when Slade very clearly remembers what his other two children had gone through. No important life skills were learnt there. Rather than going to school, she starts travelling with him and Billy as he goes to different areas for jobs. 

Is it dangerous? Probably.

Verging on child endangerment? No way. She was always kept safe and far away from the areas that he worked.

Plus she learnt more than counting and nap time. 

With his travels, sometimes they are abroad, and she gets taught various languages to help them blend in easier. Such as English, French, Mandarin and sign language relatively fluently. With a random assortment of other languages that she knew bits of. 

He doesn’t necessarily travel just for work; he brings her along to various places for fun too. He gets to watch as Medea falls in love with the ballet in St. Petersburg. Her current career aspiration is to be a ballerina, though that's currently changing as she sees figure skating shown on the television. When Grant and Joey are on school breaks, he brings them along too. 

Unfortunately, all three of them are troublemakers. Slade finds him and his children banned from a museum for being disruptive. Who would have thought that taking his eye off of them for five minutes could result in such? 

CPS was probably having a heart attack at the decisions he made, but he didn’t care. As he told Billy years ago, he wasn’t going to fob his daughter off to some stranger. Especially for months at a time. 

Instead, she is homeschooled. Medea doesn’t complain. Her brothers do though. Well, Grant does. At the unfairness of it when she didn’t attend first grade, which had been his original plan, till he decided against it. 

It’s only when she grows a little older that he realizes that he couldn’t keep raising her like this. Moving around every once in a while. 

As much as he’d like to bring her around, he needed to let go. Even if he hated to admit that to himself. What if they targeted her due to her parentage? All his children had this risk, but Medea a little more so. Especially with her mother being Shiva. 

So, he starts looking at schools to enroll her in. That and preparing for the conversation that he’d have to have with his youngest. 

Oh boy. 

She was only eight, but she had definitely inherited his and her stubbornness. 

Of all the traits to inherit, this one wasn’t going to be in his favour.

He’s right. 

Upon finding out she has to go to school, she throws a fit, which was impressive as he didn’t see them appear too often.

“I don’t want to go!” huffs Medea, stamping her foot in frustration. “It’s stupid. Why do I have to go?”

“I’m not changing my mind on this. Grant and Joey went to school too, and they were fine. They started earlier than you did,” he says patiently.

“This isn’t a dictatorship, Dad; it’s a democracy. See, I’m learning plenty while being homeschooled.”

Slade blinks at the big words leaving his daughter’s mouth before speaking. “And where did you learn this from?”

“Grant said I’m supposed to say it whenever you get too much.”

“Did he?” he asks wryly. She probably wasn’t supposed to say that though.

“Mhm.”

“You’re not going to change my mind,” he says, avoiding the dreaded puppy eyes that Medea sent his way. Grant may have started it, but Joey improved it. And Medea? She perfected it to an art form.

“But–”

"And you're wrong. This isn't a democracy, it is a dictatorship."

"Daaaaaad!"

This is the one time that he doesn’t fall for her deceptively innocent eyes. She may be stubborn, but he has more than enough experience in dealing with stubborn children. They strike a deal. If she hates it by the end of the first week, they can discuss their options. 

Billy laughs at him for being a softie. “Striking deals with an eight-year-old? Is this what you’ve worked your career up to?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” snips Slade. “Don’t you have other things to do than bother me?”

“Nope. I’m wondering why you even agreed. Are you hoping that she’ll demand to be homeschooled?”

“No.” Maybe. 

“You definitely are.”

And he won’t admit it out loud, but Billy is right in a way. There is a small part of him that wants her to hate it and want to stay homeschooled. Still, he has to give her a chance to experience this first. 

Even if the American schooling system sometimes left things to be desired. 

Hmm...was it too late to look into other countries? It’s not like it was hard to obtain citizenship for another country. At least, not for him. 

While he does research, he does not uproot their whole life to a different country. Billy said he was being ridiculous and that Medea would be fine studying here. Besides, was he really going to purchase plane tickets every single time that Grant and Joey came by to visit?

So he reluctantly agrees. But it’s not like he couldn’t afford the tickets...  

And as her first day of school approaches, Slade finds that he is coming up with more and more scenarios of how things could go wrong. He had been careful to keep her existence from others, but still, what if someone targets her because of him?

None of his children knew that he was Deathstroke yet. They only knew that he used to be in the military, like Adeline. And that he had been discharged. His only explanation for the firearms was that he had taken up hunting. 

He wasn’t sure how to explain it. Nor did he know what to do in the event they wanted to follow in his footsteps.

But with how things were progressing, he might need to soon. Grant idolized his alias, Joey...he had been permanently hurt because of his alias, and Medea was born because of his alias. 

He sighed. It seemed that he had a lot on his plate.

Sooner or later, he had to tell them.

“Do you have your lunch?” asks Slade for what might possibly be the tenth time on the way to her school.

“Yes, Dad.”

“You know the number to call if anything goes south?”

“Yes, Dad. Can I go now?” They’ve arrived at the school and Medea would be lying if she said she wasn’t antsy enough to get out of the car. It was her first day of public school and she wanted to get it over with. Dad had promised that if things went south, she could stay homeschooled. 

“Do you ne–”

“Slade, let the kid go. She’ll be fine,” interrupts Uncle Billy from the passenger seat. 

“But–”

“Slade, she’ll be fine,” he repeated. “Now remember Medea, no talking–”

“–about Dad’s weird hobby collecting dangerous weapons,” she finishes, having heard all the dos and don’ts a million times. “And if they ask what he does for a living, he’s a consultant. For security?”

That gets an eyebrow raise from Uncle Billy, but Slade nods. “Okay, stay out of trouble, alright?”

Medea nods. 

“Go ahead. Have a good first day of school, princess.”

“Dad! I’m eight,” protests Medea. “I’m too old for that.” But she grins at the permission being given. With another goodbye to both men, she slips out of the car and rushes toward the school.

Slade’s about to drive out of the parking lot when he notices the look that Billy is giving him. “What?”

“A security consultant?”

He shrugs. “I don’t see why not.”

To his (slight) disappointment, Medea adores going to school. One look at her expression after picking her up, he knows that homeschooling is a lost cause. She spends the car ride animatedly retelling every single thing that happened at school to him. 

Well, he supposed that at least she liked it. Things could have gone a lot worse. 

And when they return home, she retells her story once more to Grant and Joey who had come by for a visit.

“Medi has got to be the only one to like school,” says Grant, shaking his head with a laugh. 

“Please don’t scare her away from this. You have no idea how much work it took to convince her to give today a try.”

“No promises.”

“I realize that was phrased as a request. But this is an order ,” he emphasizes. “You are not scaring your sister or your brother with horror stories of military school.”

“Fine,” he said petulantly. “You’re no fun.”

“I try my best,” he says dryly. “Because if you three had that much free rein, you’d be banned from the majority of places in the world.”

Chapter Text

Medea loves school by far. 

Grant was right; in a way, Medea is probably the only one of his children to truly enjoy going to school. Even Joey didn’t enjoy it to the same extent as her. 

Still, he’s glad that things turned out well for her. He’d been slightly worried that she would find it hard to adjust to a classroom setting, not when her previous lessons had been a lot more relaxed. Slade doesn’t think there’s much to worry about, not when Medea is always eagerly recounting her day to him. 

With how passionate Medea was about school, it doesn’t take much for him to realize that something had happened that day when she’s strangely tight-lipped about her day at school.

“Princess?”

She stared out the window grumpily. 

Slade doesn’t press for details. At least, not yet. 

He’ll give her some time alone first.

To his disappointment, it continued well into dinner too. She picked at her food before she mumbled something about feeling tired and ran into her room. 

Glancing at the uneaten food left on her plate, he sighed and packed it up. 

It was just the two of them tonight.

He gave her some time to cool off and headed up to her bedroom, knocking on her door.

“Go away!” she yells. 

He does not. Instead, he opens the door and catches the object that she throws. In his hands is a golden ram plushie that the boys had gotten for her a few years ago. “I thought you adored him,” he says lightly.

She turned to see what he held in his hands. Then she promptly burst into tears. 

At that, Slade finds his panic mode fully activated. Medea hadn’t cried like this in years and he’s truly baffled as to what to do now.  

Medea can see it in his body language, Dad is freaked out and doesn’t know what to do. 

“Princess?” he tries carefully. 

“M’fine.” It sounded terrible to her, and it showed on her dad’s face too.

“You can tell me anything, you know that, right?”

She stares up at him. Medea knows that he isn’t lying about that, but she genuinely didn’t know how to tell him the situation. Instead, she shook her head and hugged him, still unsure of what to say.

Somehow, Dad pries the story from her. Of how they were studying Ancient Greece and they brought up the topic of heroes. They had mentioned various heroes, like Hercules and Jason. Someone had brought up Medea’s name and a lot of her classmates had thought it was cool to be named after the princess who had helped Jason on his quest. 

That was until Tristan had gone and made everything go downhill. The next day, he had returned to class and was telling anyone that would listen about the real fate of her mythological namesake. Warning people left and right that they shouldn’t be friends with a murderer.

“It’s not true,” she cries, stamping her feet in annoyance. “I’m not a murderer!”

“Oh, Princess...”

Kids could be cruel. 

Slade holds his daughter close and soothes her as the words come spilling out of her. 

He tries to tell her another version of the story, of where she leaves Jason behind and goes on to marry another king. Through her, her son conquers a land and the people change their name to Medes. 

Medea is rather precocious. “She still kills her other children, doesn’t she?”

“Well–I,” he’s trying to stammer through some sort of answer. “–you don’t have to–”

“I knew it,” she says glumly. “It’s okay, you tried, Dad.”

Slade tries to fix the situation. There goes that attempt. Things weren’t working out the way he wanted. 

In the end, he tells her that stories could be looked at in more than one way. In the case of her mythological namesake, you could focus on her murdering people, or you could also focus on her cunning. Of the feats she was capable of, and how she was able to accomplish any task she set her mind on. 

Then he emphasized one of the more important points, it was just a story. It’s not like Medea will actually kill people in the future. Or at least in the near future, not if he has any say in it. 

His princess is only eight. 

Too young to think of mercenaries and of taking lives. 

Still, as Medea’s cries die down and turn into sniffles, he wonders if he could instill fear into that boy as Deathstroke. They were only nine, yet that was uncalled for, no matter their age.

Shiva, he thinks, would have agreed too.

Instead of the usual route of murder, a string of unfortunate accidents happen to the boy and his family. Nothing crazy, just minor annoyances. Like how every time they tried to purchase something online, it just so happened to be sold out. 

Billy liked to call it verging on psychological warfare, Slade liked to call it keeping things even. As he did some research on Tristan’s family, he found out the boy’s mother was none other than Heather. 

The one woman in town who had an opinion on everything. Including how he was a single father with three children. It was scandalous and apparently, Medea was going to grow up a wild child and a disappointment. 

As if. He was proud of all his children.

He wasn’t surprised that Heather had such a rotten child. Not when the woman had such a rotten personality.

School isn’t as smooth-sailing as he would have liked, though things get better as they go on for Medea. Tristan soon becomes a mere afterthought for her. Soon enough, she’s forgotten mostly about him. 

He catches Grant offering to teach her how to punch someone and he turns a blind eye to it. Because if it was to punch Tristan, the bratty kid deserved it. 

Currently, Medea is excitedly recounting her achievements in school. Besides the academic ones, she tells him of the ones outside of class.

According to her, she currently holds the record for being undefeatable in dodgeball and tag. And if he’s taking Medea’s words as the complete truth, Slade wryly thinks that school has got a lot more competitive. That or all his children are just competitive people to start with.

Point in case, the last conversation he overheard between Grant and Medea. 

“If you do this, then you’ll be undefeatable. I taught Joey and he was the indisputable winner on the playground. So, it’s time for you to follow in our footsteps,” says Grant almost solemnly.

Slade watched as Medea nodded seriously, taking in every word that Grant told her. 

Was Grant teaching Medea how to play tag or take over the world? 

Honestly, he wasn’t sure anymore. 

With how close the three are, they make for very memorable moments. Off the top of his head, he can easily list three incidents just from this month. 

There had been the sound of Medea crying her eyes out in the next room. When it showed no signs of stopping, Slade had dropped what he was doing to rush into the room. “What’s wrong, Princess?”

Then he frowned at the sight, Medea was crying on the couch, her back to him. Grant was sitting beside her, frowning. Joey looked smug. 

What on Earth?

“Boys… Medea?”

Medea sits up instantly, turning to him. He’s even more confused when there’s no trace of tears on her face and she smiles. “Hi, Dad!”

“Medea...”

In a flash, her smile turned into a pout. “He made me do it,” she says, pointing an accusing finger at Joey.

Grant cackled while Joey looked betrayed. “You promised!” he signed.

She shook her head. “You gave me ice cream to fake cry. Not to lie to Dad.”

“Pardon?” said Slade, baffled at the turn of events. “Lie about what?”

“Medi,” signed Joey rapidly. “I swear to God. What are you doing?”

“I’d like to know that as well.”

It’s like assembling furniture from Ikea sometimes. A slow and frustrating process just to get to the end. 

Turns out that Grant and Joey had made a bet on how he would react if Medea was crying. By the looks of it, Grant had lost. Though with how things had turned out, he wasn’t sure if he could say that either of his sons had won the bet. The only one who won might have been Medea, who’d gotten ice cream in exchange for her cooperation.

He wishes that they wouldn’t choose scenarios like these to test him.

Then there was the bike incident. There’s a reason why the three of them aren’t allowed to go off and bike by themselves. One was that Medea was still learning how to. And her brothers took very different approaches to teach her. 

By that, he meant that Grant ended up riding Medea’s bike as she chased after him, while Joey was the one who let Medea ride the bike herself. Though Joey accidentally lets go too early, and without any training wheels and being super nervous, Medea goes splat. 

She...she now has trust issues whenever they promise to take her biking. Only agreeing to go out if he was present. According to Medea, he was the least likely to go back on his word from teaching her how to bike safely. 

Slade would say that it was quite an honour if he didn’t feel the glares sent his way by both his sons. 

The second was the more heartstopping reason. Slade has seen many things throughout his life, but nothing had prepared him for the sheer terror when he had seen the three of them barreling down a large hill at breakneck speeds. 

In hindsight, he should have intervened when he had heard bits of their earlier conversation. 

“I’ve got an idea,” said Grant conspiratorially. “So none of us have to sit around and watch.”

Slade had narrowed his eye when Grant had whispered his plan to the other two. They had sent skeptical glances in his direction and Joey had gestured wildly at the bike, him and at Medea.

Before he could do anything to stop them, the three had dragged Grant’s bike with them and disappeared out of his sight. 

Within minutes, he’d quickly learnt what that plan was. 

The brats had gotten it into their heads to sit on the same bike and maneuver around in it. It wouldn’t be a problem if Grant’s bike was a tandem bike. But it wasn't.

Are his children trying to get him into an early grave? 

There on Grant’s newest bicycle is Grant who’s sitting in the seat as usual. But Medea is sitting on the handlebars. Then there’s Joey, sitting on the back on what’s supposed to be a cargo carrier for where you could strap on bags or baskets. And there the three are rolling down a large hill. 

He watches with a sense of horror which is quickly replaced with relief when all three stop in front of him, still sitting on the bike.

As they slowed to a stop, he heard Medea asking to go again and Slade thought that was a good enough indication to stop them before they got hurt. 

“Have any of you considered that maybe these bikes have a passenger limit for a reason?”

The three froze at the sound of his voice. 

“Well?” he asked impatiently. “I’m waiting for an answer.”

Though even with all the trouble that they caused, Slade finds himself enjoying this domesticity he has with his children. Besides, for any of the trouble they got into, he was given lots and lots of creative liberty with their punishments. 

As Slade mused over his plans for his next job, he’d paused to listen to the children playing outside. 

“Off with their head!” declares Medea with a laugh. 

Slade peeks out the window, half-worried, half-amused at how easily his sons had agreed. To his relief, they were only destroying pumpkins from Halloween.

Grant chuckles as he swings the baseball bat down.

“Brats, I better not see any pumpkin guts on the driveway.” The corners of his mouth quirk upwards as he hears the mad scramble to clean up.

“The hose!” pipes in Medea’s voice. “There’s a hose we can use!”

A few seconds later comes Grant’s indigent voice. “Joey! I’m soaked, watch it!” There’s silence before he speaks again. “No, that was not an accident. You–” The sound of water cuts him off.

Medea giggles. 

Slade peeks out the window again to watch his two younger children team up against Grant, deliberately soaking him. 

“Come on, Medi, give your big brother a hug,” teased Grant after he had wrestled the hose away from Joey. “You haven’t hugged me today yet.” 

“No!” Her eyes widened in horror as Grant got closer. “Eww! You’re all wet and gross.”

“Big brother wants a hug.”

“Nooo” Quicker than anyone expects, Medea dodges Grant’s attempts to grab her and hides behind Joey. “Joey, he’s being mean again.”

Grant turns his attention to Joey and smiles a promise of retribution. “Oh, don’t think I’ve forgotten about you either. You’re getting a hug too.”

As Joey and Medea back up, they accidentally kick over the pile of pumpkin guts they’d just cleaned up. With a glance between them, they scoop some of the guts into their hands. 

At that, Grant frowned. “Don’t you dar–” He’s interrupted when a splat of pumpkin seeds lands on him. 

The two of them snicker as they pelt Grant with bits of pumpkin. Eventually, things come to a stop as they run out and Grant gains the upper hand. 

“Save yourself, Medi,” signs Joey as he pushes her out of Grant’s reach. 

“Joey!! No!” 

Slade shakes his head at the scene as he heads down to the driveway. Knowing these brats, they’d likely end up making an even bigger mess than the one they started with.

By the time he reaches the front door, he’s leaning on the doorway as he watches Grant make good on his promise. Joey gets a rather tight hug and becomes covered in pumpkin guts to Medea’s horror. 

“It’s alive,” says Grant rather ominously. “Rise, my minion.”

From there, they stage a rather dramatic enactment of a human turning into a pumpkin monster, one that makes her laugh before shrieking as they chase her around. 

A look of shock appears on Grant’s face as Medea manages to slip out of his reach by mere seconds. One mirrored by Joey when he can’t catch her either. 

As funny as it is, his amusement sobers when he replays the moment in his mind. That didn’t make sense. How?... Had she inherited Shiva’s ability or was it something else entirely–

He doesn’t get the chance to complete his thoughts as Medea runs straight at him. 

“Dad, help!” She slips right past him and hides behind his back. “Save me from them!”

He glanced at Grant and Joey who awkwardly realized his presence. Sheepish looks appear on their faces. “I thought I told the three of you to clean up?”

Grant huffed at that. Joey shrugged. 

“Neither of you is coming into the house like that,” he says, gesturing to the bits of pumpkin stuck to them. “And the driveway still needs to be cleaned up.”

“But–” A protest starts on Grant’s lips, but he gets cut off quickly. 

“You’re cleaning up too,” says Slade, turning to the child hiding behind him. “You might not have become a pumpkin monster but you’re still helping with the driveway.”

She nods reluctantly and steps out from behind him. 

“And I’m staying here to watch until the three of you finish.”

Grumbles come from the three children as they scramble to make things neat again. The driveway becomes pumpkin-free, which leaves the next thing to do. To de-pumpkin the other two.

“Alright, go get me the hose,” says Slade to Medea.  

She nods and runs off for it, quickly returning with it. 

From there, he takes the hose from her and fiddles with the sprinkler setting and passes it to her. “Hold onto it for me, will you?” At her nod, he heads to where the knob is located and turns his attention to the other two. “Alright, line up. We’re hosing you down.”

Grant eyes the hose warily. “What setting did you ha–” he gets cut off with a blast of water to his face. “Medi!”

“Oops.”

“Don’t aim at your brother’s face,” says Slade, turning the hose down. “I’m going to turn it up again, but try not to aim at their faces.”

And the moment Grant is deemed de-pumpkinfied, he sends a smirk at Medea, one that she misses as she’s too focused on trying not to aim at Joey’s face. Leaving her unaware and vulnerable for a hug. 

With one swoop, Grant hugs Medea to him, causing her to shriek at his touch. “Grant!”

“I told you that I was going to hug you, Medi,” he says innocently to Slade’s amusement. 

“But you’re so cold and wet!” she protests, trying to wriggle out of his hug. “Now I’m soaked.”

“Oops,” he says, not meaning it at all. 

Slade finds that there are times that he slightly regrets how well his children get along with one another. 

“What do we say when there’s a stup–” Grant caught his father’s glare and hastily corrected himself, “–mean person bothering you?”

“Off with their head!”

“Excellent.”

“No,” sighed Slade. “Stop teaching your sister that violence is an acceptable option.”

“She needs to learn to protect herself, I can’t beat up people for her when I’m back in New York.”

“By ordering their deaths?”

“If that’s what keeps her safe then sure.”

“No.” He turns to his youngest. “Princess, if I hear any threats at school–”

She huffed in annoyance. “Okay. I won’t do it.”

"Good." Then her dad motions for her to get out of the car. "Have a good day at school."

Medea tries to listen to what Dad had suggested, but it's hard. Not when Dad hadn't met Cheryl. If there was ever a real queen of hearts, then Cheryl would be a perfect fit. Especially with how demanding and spoiled she was. 

Cheryl was almost as bad as Tristan. Almost. 

Because Medea didn’t get it, if he liked her, then why would he pull on her pigtails so roughly? And Tristan didn’t like her, it was easy to see. But if it gave him an excuse to pick on her, then he took advantage of it.

Medea could imagine Grant’s voice telling her that Tristan was very stupid for doing so. 

Her teacher was clearly lying. 

While waiting for her dad to come to pick her up, Medea was too engrossed in her book to notice the two girls heading her way.

“Witch!” teases Cheryl as she snagged Medea’s book and threw it into a nearby mud puddle. “What are you doing?”

Instead of answering, Medea is frantically trying to get the mud off of her book. Her brothers had pooled together their allowance to get it for her. Though she grits her teeth when there’s a mud stain that won’t come off. Do not call her the other word that rhymes with witch. 

“Look, the witch is silent for once,” says the other. “She must be plotting to kill someone.”

Plotting how to kill you, thinks Medea viciously. Her anger spills through after one of them insults her dad. “Who said I wasn’t?” she tells them sweetly. “I just don’t voice them out loud.” 

A bark of laughter comes from behind her. Within a few seconds, a shadow covers her. “Medi, where have you been? I’ve been waiting for ages.”

Medea turns at the sound and beams at the newcomer. 

The grin Grant has disappeared when he notices her dirty appearance and the way she hid her book behind her back. Then he turns to her classmates. “Do you mind repeating what you just said?”

The dangerous tone has her classmates taking a step back involuntarily from them. 

When nobody says anything, Grant breaks the silence by giving them a malicious smile and one word. “Scram.”

And they do. They ran like the hounds of hell were chasing them.

“My hero,” jokes Medea. 

The corner of his lips tugs upward before he frowns once again. “Medi, what are you hiding behind your back?”

“Nothing,” she answers quickly. To her annoyance, he’s so much taller and quicker than her. Within seconds, he’s got her book in his hands. 

“Medi?”

“I’m sorry,” she blurts out. “I didn’t mean to ruin the book–”

“Medi,” he interrupts, his head shaking at her words. “Medi, listen to me. I’m not mad about the book. Really. And it’s not like you were the one to destroy it, you love books too much to do that.”

She looks up seriously at him and nods once she’s sure he's not lying. “Promise?”

“Promise,” he says seriously. “What I’m curious about is if they do that a lot to you?” His tone turns dark. 

“Not really...” she hedges. At Grant’s prodding, she admits, “Only because of our recent unit in Ancient Greece.”

“I see,” says Grant as he listens to her finish her explanation. “I see.” Then in a bright tone, he asks her, “Do you want to go for ice cream, Medi? I brought the bike today.”

“The bike?” asks Medea, eyes wide in awe. Then hesitantly, she adds, “But...Dad–”

“What Pops doesn’t know won’t hurt him. This can be a secret between the two of us, hmm?”

Medea nods. 

“Something’s up,” mutters Slade. “I’m not sure what it is, but they are hiding something from me.”

Billy chuckles at his words. “I think it sounds like you’re jealous.”

“Of my own son? Impossible.” He was not jealous of Medea ignoring him in favour of asking Grant to tell her a bedtime story. 

“Yeah, you’re jealous,” hums Billy. “Besides, you know how close the two of them are. With Grant being in New York for school, he barely has the time to see her as often. It makes sense that she’d stick to him for as long as she can.”

“Don’t you think it’s suspicious?”

“She chose you over Grant. It really isn’t, Slade. Jealousy isn’t a good look on you.”

Slade elected to ignore that. “But when has Grant ever done storytime for her?”

“Sure, he’s done it a–” Then Billy pauses to think over the times that Medea has asked Grant to do it instead. “Wait. You’re right. He barely does it.”

“I told you.”

So, what were they plotting?

They won’t admit their next actions, but the two men exchange a worried glance before sprinting up to Medea’s room. 

By the door, they listen in on her storytime. 

To their confusion (and relief), they find that it really is just a normal storytime. Well, it’s a little darker than Slade would like. But it’s still normal. 

So when they quietly walk back down the stairs, Slade lets out a breath of relief. He’s never been so glad to admit he was wrong. Okay, maybe they weren’t plotting anything.

Slade should have known that relief was too good to be true. 

On his day off, he gets a call. 

This is the first time that Medea’s school is calling him, so Slade picks up immediately. 

She’s not hurt, right?

Though he’s a little worried when he hears that she’s in trouble and that he’s been called in. The worry grows into a slight headache when he hears the reason, it was about her colourful language. 

At the office, he has to bite back a laugh seeing how pinched the principal’s face is while repeating word-for-word what Medea had said to another student. 

The short version is that during class, she called her bully out for idolizing a manwhore (Zeus) that couldn’t keep his dick in his pants and was responsible for 95% of the problems in Greek mythology. Even going so far as to tell the kid that in modern times, he’d likely be paying tons in spousal support, and prison if he tried any of that. 

Oh, and the cherry on top was that very same student had gotten a few of their friends to gang up against Medea to take back her words. 

She hadn’t. 

Instead, she fought back. 

Of course, his daughter hadn’t come out unscathed. But she was in much better condition than the other kids. 

Slade probably shouldn’t encourage her into fights, but he’s impressed that she won against three other kids.

There’s also the matter of cursing her classmates. Slade doesn’t really know what to make of that. Because apparently Medea had said that if she was named after a witch, they should be scared of her magic. So according to the other kids, she had cursed them. 

Weird, but okay. 

The principal didn’t know what to make of it either. So they sort of skipped past that. 

“That...that was unexpected,” admits her dad as he drives them away from school. “But I hope you understand what happened today won’t happen again?”

Medea nodded. 

“Verbal answer.”

“Fine. I won’t get into another fight at school.”

“Better.” After a pause, he says, “So, all three at the same time?”

“Yeah. Once I found this stick, they seemed to back off.” Medea snuck a peek at her dad when he didn’t say anything. To her surprise, he seemed oddly proud?

Still, he didn’t ask about the fight anymore. Rather, he switched to another topic. “What did the principal mean when he said witchcraft?”

She shrugged. “I just repeated one of the curses.”

“From where?” he asks warily. 

“Home.”

“I don’t remember getting you a book on curses.”

“But you cursed Uncle Billy?” Medea’s confused now. What was Dad trying to refer to?

At Medea’s answer, his dad levels – as Billy puts it– is off the charts. “What exactly did you say?” he says slowly. 

“I cursed them,” she says, confused at his question. “Do you want me to repeat one?”

“Go ahead.”

To his horror, Medea’s version of cursing was….colourful. 

Slade doesn’t know whether to be impressed or shocked, because she’s got the Russian pronunciation down to a t. Originally, he had thought she said some random words and called it a curse. Turns out, she’d simply overheard them ‘cursing’ at home and assumed that it was the same thing. 

Thank God, none of the parties involved at the school incident understood Russian. 

He can’t even reprimand her either, because he’s the one who said it. Billy was going to kill him for teaching her that. Even if it was accidental.

Of all things to repeat, why that?

In hindsight, the choice to swear in various languages just so Medea wouldn’t repeat them seemed to only get worse as she grew older.

Still, as a responsible parent, she’s grounded for her colourful language at school, with lots of chores to do. And if she learns phrases in foreign languages, she needs to know what they mean before she can use them. 

Not as a reward or anything, but he makes sure she knows how to defend herself against older and potentially larger opponents. You know, because he’s a concerned father. 

Look, one day, he might not be here, and he wanted her to be safe.

And this is where a new rule comes in. Grant isn't allowed to do storytime ever again, not if he wants Medea to graduate elementary school without learning how to swear like a sailor.

When he informs Grant of the trouble he caused Medea, Grant is too smug – too proud of his sister – to take the lecture seriously. So to rectify that, he’s given an equally long list of chores for teaching that to her. 

Honestly, these children of his were a handful sometimes. 

Chapter Text

Medea knocked for the third time but there was no answer. Huffing in displeasure, she opened the door and gasped at the sight in front of her. Gross!

From his spot, Grant turned and a look of shock passed by his face. “Medi–”

Instantly, she slammed the door and ran in the opposite direction. Away from the room and hopefully into something less weird.

Eventually, she came across her Dad in his study. “Dad!!” 

“Princess?” He raises an eyebrow at her rush. “What is it?”

“Grant’s eating a girl in his room!”

His reaction was instantaneous. “What?” he sputtered. “Medea, what exactly did you see?”

She repeated what she saw. 

And just as she finished, Grant burst into the room. “Medi, wait–” Then he paused upon noticing Dad. “Oh, you’re here.” Hastily, he tried to smooth over his dishevelled appearance. 

Medea squinted and saw weird marks on his neck. “What’s with your neck?” she asks bluntly. 

Instantly, he scrambled to adjust his shirt collar. 

Dad looked between the two of them before roaring with laughter. “Oh, Princess, come here,” he says, gesturing for her to come over. 

She did and he easily picked her up, letting her sit on his lap. 

Once his chuckles had slowed, he added, “Your brother wasn’t eating anyone.”

“Pops!” stammers Grant. “What?”

“Your sister thought you were a cannibal.”

“I– Medi...that’s not–”

“I trust that you two were safe?”

Curiously, her brother sputtered and grew red. “It–Not what you’re thinking, clothes were still on! And still are!”

Dad looked like he wanted to continue making fun of Grant. “It’s fine, Grant. I’ll handle it. Don’t leave your date alone for so long.” There was a hint of teasing in his voice. “Stay safe.”

Multiple emotions flickered through his face before he rushed back out, slamming the door shut in his haste to leave. 

“Then what were they doing?” Medea frowned trying to remember what she had seen.

Dad couldn’t help but chuckle at her confusion. “Kissing, I suppose.”

“Is it always that messy?” she asks, wrinkling her nose at the memory. “It wasn’t that weird in Cinderella when they kissed at the end.”

He shook his head. “It’s never liked the movies, Princess. And...” he trailed off, trying to find the words to put it into. “A more grown-up version. Sometimes it’s more...messy, other times not so much.”

At his answer, Medea looked at him in horror. “You mean I have to do that when I’m older?”

Slade is not ashamed to say that he choked at her words. Because how on earth do you answer that? Medea was nine, his princess was a BABY. It took him a second too long to recompose himself. “Not if you don’t want to. You’re always allowed to say no if you don’t feel comfortable.”

She nodded slowly. Then a dubious look appeared on her face. “Wait, how old is old?”

“Not for a very, very long time,” he says hurriedly.

“Okay.”

He can’t help the sigh of relief at her easy acceptance. Thank God. Glancing at the time, he had never been more relieved for the subject change. Luck was finally starting to favour him. “Let’s get you to skating lessons, kiddo. Is your bag all packed?”

Her eyes practically sparkled at the reminder. “Yeah! Hurry up, Dad, I don’t want to be late!” She’s already out the door before he could get up. 

Chuckling in amusement, he got up, grabbing his wallet and jacket with him. Sometimes he wondered where all that energy was stored. For such a small child, Medea sure had a lot of energy. 

His daughter was still pretty hung up on being a figure skater, hence her being enrolled in some beginner lessons. For now, he’d indulge her in it. If she decided she wanted to pursue it in the future, he wouldn’t mind, but right now it was just another activity for her. And a way to tire her out. Because she had too much energy, it seemed that she never ran out.

Medea’s skating lessons weren’t that long. So once a week, he made time in his schedule and brought her to them. During that time, he was usually left to his own devices while keeping an eye out for her. But some days, they felt like an eternity while he waited for her to finish. Especially on the days where he had to deal with Patricia. 

God, the woman was a nuisance. And he had killed people for less. 

Though time did pass by quickly when he imagined the ways he could get rid of the woman permanently. Currently, murder attempt #24 using a pair of skate guards was looking real nice. 

Thankfully for Patricia, he was spared from enacting said plan when the lesson finally ended. He stood by the doorway, waiting for Medea to appear. 

“How was skating today?” asks Slade. 

Medea all but ran toward him, face still red from the cold temperature and the exertion. “Fun!”

“Yeah? What did you learn today?” He gestured for her to sit down and passed a thermos to her as he helped her unlace her skates. 

At that, she made a slight face. “Well, technically...today was kind of boring,” says Medea. She paused to take a sip from the thermos. “I wish we could do more. But the teacher said that this was the hardest we would do at this level.”

“Oh?”

She nodded emphatically. At his gesture to continue, she began describing what they had done today and how she was bored in class. The first few lessons had been fun, but now things seemed to slow down. It seemed that they were waiting for everyone to catch up. 

“Maybe we could skip you up a level or two.”

“Could we?” She sat up a little straighter at the possibility. Maybe she could even learn how to spin faster and cooler like the older kids!

He chuckled at her hopeful look. “I’ll ask around.”

“You’re the best, Dad!”

“I try.”

There hadn’t been any close calls. None ever since Medea came to live with him. But Slade would be lying to say that he wasn’t worried. There were reports of The Jackal encroaching closer and closer to this town. 

Slade still remembers his last experience with The Jackal involving his children. It ended with both children alive, but with Joey’s throat slit. It….If only he was faster. Better. 

He glanced at the closed bedroom door. Her bedroom. He refused for Medea to be in that position too. 

Checking over his inventory, one last time, Slade was about to pick up the phone to dial Billy’s number when a hesitant knock sounded on his front door. It was late at night, so his senses were dialled up to an eleven. The Jackal couldn’t have….

Carefully, he approaches the door, relieved when he recognizes the figure. Though he opens the door slightly confused. “Shouldn’t you be–” in New York? Or with Adeline?

“Where I should be versus where I want to be are two very different places right now,” interrupts Grant. “Can I stay here tonight?”

He nods slowly. “I...”

Then his gaze flickered to the duffle bag in his hand. “This is a bad time, isn’t it? It’s fine. I’ll just stay at a motel or something.”

“No, no, it’s not a bad time. You’re welcome here, you always are. But can you keep watch over the house for a little bit? I have something to take care of.”

Grant frowned. “This late? Is this another of your work things?”

“Yes. It’s an emergency. Please, I won’t be long. But...” His head tilted up to the stairs. “She’s asleep.”

“Okay. I’ll watch over her.”

“Thank you,” he says, voice full of relief. At least he doesn’t have to worry anymore whether someone could come by before The Jackal any closer to them. “But we’re going to have to talk about this when I come back.”

A mulish look appears on his face. “...fine.”

Slade knows for a fact that Joey is with Adeline this week. So now that he has the other two of his children’s locations guaranteed, he feels a little safer leaving the house. Still, he can’t help the next sentence that comes out of his mouth. “And call if you need anything. I mean it.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Grant waved him off. “It’s not like anything can happen in the next few hours.”

That is all I hope for.

There was a sound downstairs. It was noisy and unlike Dad’s careful footsteps. Half-asleep, Medea peeked out of her bedroom to see a familiar jacket on the stair railing. 

“Grant?” says Medea, at the top of the stairs, tiredly rubbing at her eyes. “Why are you here so late at night?”

“Yeah, it’s me,” he says guiltily. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you up. You can go back to bed, Medi.”

Medea frowned at the signs. Why was he sad? She shook her head.  

“Don’t be stubborn, Medi. You’re going to be too tired for school tomorrow.”

Ignoring his protests, Medea made her way down the stairs and startled him when she hugged him tightly. 

“What's wrong? A nightmare?” he asks carefully. “It’s alright, nothing’s going to get you. I promise that.”

She shook her head. Her brother was so silly sometimes, couldn’t he see that she was worried for him? “I don’t want you to be sad anymore.”

“Why would I be sad?”

I don’t know. But I don’t want you to be sad.

Medea is sleepy. But she’s stubbornly trying to stay awake because if she falls asleep now Grant will be sad again. So she had to stay awake until Dad came back. Because maybe he’d know what to do.

He did most of the time.

Or maybe Uncle Billy would. 

She doesn’t want her brother to be sad.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers to the quiet room. “It’s my fault...my fault that you’re...”

And she knows that it’s not to her. Rather he’s directing it to someone else. But who?

“I promise that Medi won’t ever come to harm. I would never forgive myself if I became the cause of her injuries.”

Medea tightens her hold on her brother, not wanting his mind to wander into these impossibilities.

He doesn’t seem to notice, because he absent-mindedly pats her head. “Oh Medi, I hope you don’t blame me for Joey’s muteness. I don’t think I could bear it if you looked at me with hate. But...” His voice trails off. “I wouldn’t blame you either. Because sometimes I think Ma does….she looks at me like she looks at Pops sometimes. And maybe Joey does too, but he’s better at hiding it.”

Her confusion only grows, because, in her mind, Joey has always been mute. What happened? As she tried to process his words, she realized that there was a light scar on Joey’s throat. Faint, visible only when you were close to him. Like when he carried her around. Oh . 

Grant continues his rambles and Medea only catches bits of it. It’s mostly about Joey and his mom. About how he wishes that he did something differently, so Joey wouldn’t be mute now. But it’s getting harder to stay awake as time passes. 

“Silly Grant,” she murmurs before fully drifting off to sleep. “I’d never hate you.”

Maybe it’s her dream, but she swears she hears her brother chuckle softly at that. “Yes, I’m rather silly, aren’t I?”

When Slade returns home with a lot more wounds, he’s surprised to find the two children huddled on the couch fast asleep. As much as he wants answers to Grant’s sudden visit, he hesitates. It could always wait til later in the morning.

He’d just gotten rid of The Jackal. 

Gently, he arranged a blanket around the two, making sure both were sufficiently covered. Afterwards, he left them as he returned his suit and weapons to their hidden areas. Slade found himself returning to the living room.

This was going to hurt his back in the morning, but he didn’t care. He settled on the armchair nearby and kept watch over the two children in his care. Having them in his vicinity helped his paranoia die down just a little. 

They were safe. 

For now. 

And that was more than he could ask for. 

He hoped that it would last. 

In the morning, he wakes up earlier than either of them. Medea only stirs by the time he had finished making breakfast. For once, Breakfast is a quiet affair, the three of them content in the silence. 

It’s only when Medea’s been dropped off at school that he gets a moment alone with his eldest. Well, Grant should be at school too, but his impromptu trip here meant that he wasn’t going to make it in time for today’s classes. Not unless he left hours ago. 

To his chagrin, he must have missed the window for an explanation. Because Grant was tight-lipped on his reason why. Slade didn’t press any further once he got the message that Grant didn’t want to talk about it to anyone. His son is too stubborn sometimes. If he pressed any more, then Grant would take off, drifting to wherever he felt that he could escape to. 

Though from what Slade could glean from the few words that he got, something had happened between Adeline and him. 

Likely another heated disagreement. They had been getting more frequent now that they had sent Grant up to New York for schooling. 

Adeline wasn’t much help either. His call to her went terribly, it ended with them spitting harsh words and petty jibes at each other. He rubbed his temple in frustration as he hung up.

“Did you really mean it?”

Slade paused, looking up to see Grant who must have returned sometime during his call. “Mean what?”

Grant looked down at his feet. “Living with you,” he mumbled. “That majority custody is with you, instead of with her.”

“That depends….” he says slowly. “Is that what you want?”

“Yes.” There’s no hesitation. 

Many things come to his mind, particularly reasons to take back his words. Some more clinical and perhaps, heartless, than others. Deathstroke might have stopped to ponder such reasons to disprove Grant’s request. But he is not a mercenary sitting down with his client right now; he is a father, one whose son is waiting for a response. So Slade Wilson does not stop to ponder such reasons or care to stop. “Okay.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.” 

Grant’s shoulders slump in relief before they tense once more. “But Ma…”

He catches the hidden meaning. He and his ex-wife may both be ex-military, but Adeline was the one with all the influential connections from her family name. In contrast, all he had was his name. A wry smile appeared on his face. “Your mother isn’t the only one with connections, Grant.” 

Regardless, Grant doesn’t relax. Though he nods. 

Since they don’t have anything to do, at least not until Medea needs to be picked up. That’s still quite a few hours away. He finds himself settling in front of the TV with Grant by his side. From there, a video game is set up and though Slade loses –not from a lack of trying– he enjoys spending time with his eldest. 

“If we were to actually hunt, this wouldn’t make any sense,” he remarks carelessly when they’ve switched to a hunting simulation game.

“Yeah? How?”

“Maybe I’ll bring you along the next time I go hunting.”

Grant glanced at him. “What about Medi?”

“Have Billy watch her for a bit. Nowhere too far. Like a day trip and being back for dinner. Or perhaps we could go further out and have the others come along while we went off to hunt.”

He makes a thoughtful sound, looking intrigued by the prospect. 

The request is messier than he liked. But it goes through. Slade is a man of his word and he’s soon granted majority custody of his eldest. Before he filed the request, he’d asked his younger son too if he should change anything. Joey shook his head, and Slade didn’t press any further. 

When the news comes back, it’s equal parts comical and heart-breaking to watch Grant startle at the news of their request. Did his son think that he wouldn’t follow through with his promise? 

For his children, there’s nothing he wouldn’t do. He’d even willingly cut off one of his limbs if they asked him of it. 

With that matter resolved, Grant’s presence becomes more constant around the household. While he went back to New York for school, he’d come home on some weekends. It was only a few hours of driving. On the weekends that he didn’t, he’d call home. Those days, Medea would be spending the entire afternoon, waiting for the phone to ring and when it did, she would pick up and spend hours chattering to him. 

As the youngest, that meant Medea was spoiled by everyone around her. At the same time, it meant that they took advantage of her naivety. More often than not, one of his sons would convince Medea to play along with whatever scheme they had cooked up. 

Slade wondered what Joey was up to this early in the morning. It wasn’t even nine and the chances of it being a quiet morning seemed to be slipping further and further away. 

Tap. Pause. Tap. Tap. 

Slade frowned. There it was again. Taps on the dining table. But…His brow furrowed as he tried to make sense of it. 

From across the room, Billy stared at him, equally confused, while gesturing with his head to the two children seated there. 

Why on earth were they using code?

They did know, right?

Tap. Tap. Pause. Another flurry of taps soon followed. 

“Stop it,” snapped Grant, annoyed. 

Medea frowned but kept tapping. 

Joey soon tapped a different rhythm back.

“Medi, Joey, stop.”

They stopped tapping and turned to look at him. “What?” signed Joey smugly. “Did you need something?”

“Stop talking about me.”

“I didn't say anything,” says Medea with a shrug. “Did you?” she directs to Joey, who shakes his head in the negative. 

“You know what I meant. I don’t know what it is, but I know you’re talking about me. In some sort of code, like morse code.”

“By what? The taps? You’re being silly, Grant.”

He narrowed his eyes at that. “Medi...”

“Medi is right,” signed Joey. “This is ridiculous. That we would learn a rarer form of communication just to talk about you behind your back.”

He frowned. But neither of his siblings elaborated. So all he could do was grit his teeth and stalk away, frustrated. Slade could pinpoint the moment Grant stiffened when he heard the taps start again. 

This time Slade made sure to pay attention to them. 

‘Tricked’, which was soon followed by the word ‘him’, tapped out Joey. 

In response, Medea tapped out the words. ‘Silly Grant.’

He might have remarked at how well they were using the code, that is if he wasn’t going to start a fight in his kitchen over morse code. 

Slade took another slow sip of his coffee. This was a problem for him later in the afternoon. 

He’s not going to lie, but he is proud of his suggestion that they take Medea to a park. This way he gets to have his quiet morning and they can get into whatever mischief it is that they’ve planned.

Ah, quiet mornings.  

They’ve been quite a rare occasion nowadays with so many children.

“Higher!” demands Medea. 

Joey pushes her harder to her delight. 

As she giggles, she notices a woman alone at the edge of the park. One that looks out of place with all the people here. For one, she’s alone.

Maybe Medea would have recognized her, but the woman was wearing large sunglasses and it made it hard to see most of her features. So she focused on other cues that the woman was giving off. 

There’s something about those cues, something confusing yet familiar. The woman is happy and sad at the same time. Dad sometimes gave off the same cues when he looked at her. 

And it slips her mind to tell her brothers how the woman kept looking their way when Grant reappears with ice cream in hand. By the time she remembers, the woman is nowhere to be found. 

How weird…

The woman looked familiar too, but why couldn’t she place her finger on it?

Medea had a feeling that she was going to see the woman again. 

Right now Slade’s dilemma was Christmas presents. Billy was getting on his case for being excessive. He liked to argue otherwise.

It is a universally known fact in the Wilson household that Medea was the key to almost getting anything you wanted. His sons had exploited this fact, bribing her with treats and getting her to ask him for things that she didn’t have an interest in. 

What a coincidence that Medea suddenly developed an interest in art when he told Joey that he wasn’t getting him the same set of paints with slightly different shades.

He was a lot more careful these days with approving her requests. 

So his children had changed tactics as well. 

“What are you up to?” Slade had returned from the store to see his daughter hard at work by the dinner table.

Medea barely looks up. "Writing." 

"A?"

"Letter to Santa. Will you mail it?"

"Of course. What do you have written so far?"

“This really cool crystal growing kit. Oh, and to go to Dracula’s castle,” says Medea, writing down her list of demands. “Do you think Santa will send us plane tickets?”

“I don’t know, Princess; Santa might think the tickets are rather pricey.” Where was his princess coming up with these ideas? Slade peeked over her shoulder to read what she was writing down. He was looking for something that he could buy at a store. Otherwise, Billy would say that he was spoiling his children excessively. He didn’t need that lecture again.

Medea frowned. “But what about Grant and Joey’s wishes? Then they’ll be sad and ugly if they don’t get them.”

Slade coughs to disguise his laugh. “What?” His daughter had said that way too nonchalantly. 

“He said that if people cry, they become ugly. I don’t want them to become uglier.”

This time it takes all his willpower to keep a straight face. Which one of his sons had told her that? Because their ways of getting her to not cry were getting more and more creative. With some difficulty, he manages to speak without laughing. “Don’t call them ugly, it’s not nice to say that. What if they heard it and became sad?”

Medea blinked at him and nodded solemnly. “You’re right. I shouldn’t make them uglier.”

Not the route he was going for, but sure, he’ll take it. 

Still, he glances at the list again while Medea was going around the house searching for an envelope to mail the letter to Santa.

His children are anything but subtle. 

Grant wants to see a very specific museum exhibit. Joey wants to visit a castle associated with a fictional character. 

Yeah, he was willing to bet that Medea had only learned of the castle because of them. 

In the end, Slade grants them to Billy's chagrin. He purchases plane tickets that he’ll reveal when Christmas comes around.

Because it's pragmatic, Billy. 

One trip solves the problem of three Christmas gifts. And it's not like they never took trips together…

Chapter Text

Slade doesn’t know why he thought their vacation would go smoothly. Not when his children were…well, his children. 

They don’t make it to their destination before the first incident occurs. 

He They forget something very important.

“Okay. Do we have everything?”

“Yes, Pops. For the last time, we do,” sighs Grant dramatically from the passenger seat. “Can we go now?” 

He shot his eldest a glare before starting the car. 

It’s strangely silent. 

Too silent.

“Medi, can you pass me the bag of chips?” asks Grant, not looking up from his phone. Instead, his hand stretches back, waiting for Medea to hand him the chips. 

There’s no answer. 

“Medea?” 

Once more, silence is the only response. 

“Medi?” says Grant carefully, turning to look at the back seat. 

Predictably, there’s no response. Since nobody's sitting there.

Slade finally glances at the rearview mirror, to his horror there’s only luggage. There’s no child in the backseat. 

Oh my god.  

The car slams to a halt. Slade pays no mind to the angry honks that he receives in response.

“Did we lose Medea?” asks Grant, voicing the question that Slade is wondering too.

His phone rings on cue. “Yes?”

“Dad, where are you? Where is everyone?” Medea’s voice was groggy as if she just woke up. 

“I went out on some errands, I’m on my way back,” he lies. He’s not telling his daughter that he straight up forgot her at the house. 

“Okay. I can’t find Grant though, is he also out?”

Grant shoots him a panicked look at that. 

He debates for a second before answering, “Must be. I don’t know.”

There is a silent agreement between the two. None of them will admit, even on the pain of death, that they forgot Medea at home and drove off.

It is a mad dash home and an equally rushed drive to the airport where Joey is waiting impatiently for them. 

“Why are the two of you so pale?” signs Joey. Then he turns to a still sleepy Medea. “Medi, what’s wrong with them?”

She shrugged. “Dad drove like one of those movies.”

“Yeah, he drives like a maniac,” says Grant, ignoring his look of disbelief. “We probably broke a million laws getting here.”

Joey looked skeptical but accepted it. Dropping the subject when Medea tugged at his arm to help her with her stuff. 

Slade and Grant exchange a look of relief at her timing. 

Thank God. 

The highlight of the trip is to Bran Castle. To Dracula’s castle. The children are a handful as they drag him along to look at various things. 

Grant takes an interest in a specific exhibit, enjoying knowing too many gruesome facts about the torture instruments –scaring Medea and annoying Joey. 

Joey is a lot more interested in the history of the actual castle. Especially with the art collection by Queen Marie. 

As they wander around the castle, he offhandedly mentions that this wasn’t actually Dracula’s castle. As the figure Dracula was based on likely never stepped foot in this castle. At that, the children catch on and demand more information about Vlad the Impaler. Even going so far as to beg to go to Poenari Castle, a castle that Vlad had lived in. 

The children were in the middle of a heated conversation when he felt a gaze on them. Not a hostile one. But, one that lingered too long. He shifted slightly so that none of them would be in the immediate path of the looker. 

“Your debate is riveting, but give me a moment. Try not to destroy any vases will you?” he asks, eyeing the priceless artifacts nearby. “I think I saw someone that I know.” From his position, his eye narrows as he recognizes them. 

Dragon.

“A friend?” asks Medea. 

“More like an acquaintance from work.”

Grant rolled his eyes. “Work.”

“Right, we’ve been working on stranger danger with Medi,” signs Joey, a look of mischief on his face. “Medi, what do we say when a stranger tells you that they are Pop’s friend?”

Medea’s face blooms into mischief. “You’re a liar! He has no friends.”

He muffles the groan that threatens to escape. “Very funny. And when I come back, we’re going to talk about the dangers of listening to them, Medea.”

“Ooh, he’s annoyed,” says Grant unhelpfully. “Look at that, your first name being in use?”

This time he doesn’t stop himself from groaning. “This is a topic we’re shelving for later.”

He watched as Slade subtly motioned for him to follow along. So he does, but not without glancing one last time at the three children. He waits for Slade to speak, but the man doesn’t. Not until they are in a well-secluded spot. Away from everyone else, more specifically the children. Especially the girl. 

“Dragon.” It’s only one word, yet Richard doesn’t need to be a detective to pick up on his growing irritation. 

“Slade. Well, I suppose you’re not on a job.” He looked to his right, an action that had the other watching his every action like a hawk.

“What gave it away?” drawled the man. “The lack of weapons?”

That was the biggest lie that Richard had ever heard. “Personal?” he probes. 

A noncommittal noise left him. “Something like that. You?”

“Yes. Imagine my surprise when I saw you. It has been so long since our last meet-up.”

“It has.”

“But I’m curious…” he trails off, unsure how to proceed. At Slade’s gesture to continue, he does. “I thought I saw someone familiar today.”

“Oh? Bronze Tiger?” he asks conversationally. “I didn’t know he was in town too.”

“No, not him. But her. I was mistaken though. It was just someone who looked like her.”

“You were mistaken.” Slade’s gaze turned frosty. “I think your eyesight is deteriorating, Dragon.”

“You realize that I wouldn’t t–” The look that his friend shot at him was enough for him to shut his mouth. 

“You were mistaken,” he repeats. The murderous aura emitted from him is now suffocating. 

This had not been the right way to go. “I–Slade.” He lets out a sigh as he realizes just how poorly this had gone. “I was mistaken.”

“Don’t make any more mistakes or I’ll make sure that your name is all that you have left.”

Not much scared him, and he knew how Slade fought. But still, he was quite sure that the man would find a way to go through with the threat. “I believe you.”

“Good.”

That may have been the closest he’d ever been to murdering Dragon. As easygoing as the man was, Slade would not have hesitated. Not if it meant protecting his family. 

But he doesn’t like this. 

This trip was supposed to have them relax. To take their mind off things, a family vacation. But instead, he gets to deal with that. 

As Medea grew up, his traits started to be prominent in her features. But that didn’t take away from how much she resembled her mother. In appearance and her mannerisms at times.

He’s so caught up in his thoughts that the children manage to wrangle a promise to visit Poenari castle. Even if he should warn them against it. 

Though he’s told Shiva that he didn’t mind her visiting their daughter, it’s been years yet she hasn’t made contact yet. Slade wonders how he should feel about that, but he doesn’t seek Shiva out. Because they were adults and if she didn’t want to have contact with Medea, he couldn’t do much.

Still, Medea knows of Shiva. Not much, but enough of her presence and of how she looks from that one photo taken when she was a few months old. At an early age, she’s taught that she has a different mother from Grant and Joey. 

For the most part, Medea doesn’t seem to mind the lack of a mother, she accepted it fairly easily. Or so it seemed, until her first school year.

She hadn’t started her first school year in September. He’d been in Berlin for a job then, having brought her along as well. So she had started in February instead when they returned to the states. Slade still remembered how the contending point in her argument was that it was in the middle of the school year and that nobody would like her. Yeah, that hadn’t been a problem once she had her first day. 

But in her first year of public school, he remembers that one day. She had been silent on the drive home and it continued well until after dinner time when she finally broached the topic.

“Dad?” 

“Yes, Princess?”

“Do you think my mom ever loved me?” she asks quietly.

He glanced up sharply from the tablet he was working on.“Why do you ask that?”

She shook her head stubbornly. “No reason.”

“Medea. What happened?” 

She glances up to see his serious expression. “Today...we had to make cards. I...James thought I was silly for writing putting your name down instead.”

“Cards?” The realization quickly dawns on him. Mother’s Day was soon approaching. 

That might have been the first year where it’s been pushed in front of her that many chose to celebrate the day. 

In years prior, they had never celebrated it. It was always another regular day for them. There was no need for it. His mother was long dead, his boys celebrated it with Adeline, and Shiva never came by. 

Still, Slade had found himself a little tongue-tied on what to say next. He hasn’t explained that he was Deathstroke yet, so telling his youngest that her mother had to take a lot of precautions in her lifestyle wouldn’t work either.

Sheepishly, Medea had shifted on the spot. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to bring her up. I know that you don’t really talk about her.”

He shakes his head. “Your mother...she is a complicated woman. I do think she cared for you in her own way. We agreed for me to raise you because we thought it was the best for you.”

She tilts her head curiously at him. Her eyes bored into him as if trying to discern whether he was lying.

“Come here, Princess.” He shifts to make room on the couch for her to sit beside him. Once she’s settled in comfortably, he adds, “You know that, right? That you’re important to us. We… No matter what happens, you'll always be my daughter and I’ll have your back.”

“Oh.” She blinks up at him and nods solemnly. “Okay, I’ll have your back too then.”

At that, a soft smile appeared on his face. Sometimes, he’s reminded of how young Medea still is. “Did you want to meet her?” For her, he’d track down Shiva.

Medea’s head leans against his arm. “I don’t know. Should I?”

“You don’t have to make a decision now.”

She hums thoughtfully. “Okay.” A beat of silence passes before she speaks up again. “Maybe not right now. But maybe I’ll change my mind.”

“That’s alright.”

Medea only rests up against him. “What are you doing?” she asks after watching him return his attention to the tablet.

“Just finishing up some work.” With a few more clicks, he shuts the tablet off. “So, James?”

“He was being stupid.”

“Oh?”

She doesn’t elaborate on it. “Can we watch a movie?”

“I don’t know...it is a school night.”

“But I’ve done all my homework.” She sends pleading eyes his way. “Please?”

Pretending to mull it over, he watches as she gets more and more hopeful. “Hmm...I suppose we could. Maybe just this once.”

At that, she beams and jumps off the couch, running off to find a DVD for them to watch. 

Slade remembers the following Sunday morning just as well too. Of the soft pitter-patter of feet slowly making their way to his room. How the knob had turned slightly while he closed his eyes, waiting to see what Medea was planning to do. Very rarely did she try to sneak into his room, especially with him still in it. 

So he had pretended to be asleep. Ignoring the sound of shuffling as she placed a card on the bedside table beside him before hurrying out the room. Once the door shut behind her, he waited a few moments before sitting up to reach for the card. 

Happy Father’s Day.

Medea didn’t care. She wasn’t changing her mind. Even if Dad tried to convince them otherwise. But he seemed deep in thought today, he wasn’t even trying that hard.

And if her brothers could do it, she could too!

Dad warns them that there’s a lot of stairs and he’s right. 

Medea just won’t admit it out loud. She sort of regrets her decision now. 

With each step, her bag grows heavier and she’s ready to sit down and sleep. But she can’t! She won’t! Because Grant will make fun of her if she chickens out. He’d bet her 10 RON that she couldn’t make it up to the top.

She wasn’t going to drop out. Medea was a Wilson, they didn’t back out of things. They didn’t give up because they were weak.

Instead, Medea bides her time. She picks her target carefully. When Grant and Joey are a little further away, she casts glances at her dad, who’s beside her. 

While attempting to come up with a scheme, she slips. Before she can make a spectacular face-plant, Dad catches her easily, righting her in the next moment. 

“Are you tired, Princess? We can stop here if you want.” He makes to call her brothers to pause for a bit, when she grabs his hand, shaking her head.

“I’m fine.”

He looks skeptical. “Taking breaks is fine. We don’t have to hurry up there.”

She gestured for him to lean down, and when he did, she whispered into his ear her request.

Dad grumbled something about having told her so earlier, but he didn’t say no. He sighed dramatically as if it was a chore and let her climb onto his back. 

Heh. 

“You know, I bet Medi isn’t going to make it up,” says Grant, as they catch up to her brothers. 

Joey nods. Signing a response of his own back before pausing to wave at them. 

Medea smirked when Grant turned around to see her on Dad’s back, protest written all over his face. She stuck out her tongue in defiance. 

“Pops?”

“No, I’m not carrying you,” he says tiredly. “You’re old enough you can walk without help.”

“That’s not what I’m asking about,” sputtered Grant. “But Medea?!”

“What was I supposed to do? Leave her there?”

“Yeah, Grant,” she adds cheekily. “You wouldn’t leave me, would you?”

He didn’t dignify her with an answer, only grumbling when he paid her 10 RON when they got back to the hotel.

That had definitely been a trip for the books. Slade still couldn’t believe that these children could get up to so much mischief. Though he definitely doesn’t regret the trip at all. 

Still, the end of the trip signalled a return to work. And boy was he irritated right now. 

He was behind schedule and he hated it. Where was the target? They should have arrived ages ago. There were more important things for him to do than this. Such as his daughter’s recital.

But the client had paid, and he had to deliver. 

“Slade.”

Slade ignores Billy’s voice in his earpiece. 

“Slade, I know you can hear me.” 

“What,” he says irritatedly. “Can’t you see I’m busy?”

“You are by far the worst. Why the hell would you take this contract?”

“It paid well.”

“At what cost? If you don’t get your act together, you can deal with explaining to your darling princess why her father couldn’t bother to show up to the recital that you swore you’d appear at.”

Slade gritted his teeth at the reminder. “I know. I didn’t realize it would drag on so long.”

“Just get here on time. We don’t need a repeat of your last few performances.”

From his perch, a sharp grin appeared on his face as the target in question finally entered. Using the scope of his gun, he aimed and waited. Then when the moment was right, he took the shot. “What’s the ETA on traffic?” he asked. “I’m finished here.”

“You’re going to be late unless you leave now. Shit! Your nine o’clock–”

Slade doesn’t get to hear the rest of it as Superman comes barreling at him. He rolls with the blow, deflecting the majority of the pressure off of him. 

“Deathstroke.”

“I’ve got a busy schedule, can we schedule this later?”

“I’m sure they’ll understand if you’re late.”

“I’m afraid not,” he grits out. Okay, well...Medea would say that she understood, but he knows that inwardly she’d be disappointed. “You could say they’re a VIP.”

“All the more reason to stop you.”

Slade liked to think that he was a patient man. He had to in this profession. And as a father to three troublesome kids. But his thread was fraying. He was so very close to using the kryptonite bullets hidden away.

Because if he missed Medea’s recital, he was going to end Superman. Permanently.

To his relief, he throws Superman off his trail rather quickly and Slade easily makes it into his car. His bag is thrown carelessly into the passenger seat before hitting the gas.

As he finds himself stuck at a red light, impatiently waiting for it to turn green, he catches his eye on the shop on the corner. 

Hmm…

He glanced back at the dashboard and noted the time. 

He had time. 

“Flowers?” asks Medea, awe and delight dancing in her eyes. 

“Mhm.”

“For me?” 

“Who else would I buy them for?” says Slade playfully. “Unless you didn’t want them?”

Her eyes widened in awe. “No! I want them. Wow, that’s so cool! Thanks–” At the same moment, another bouquet of flowers is thrust toward her to grab. She beamed when she recognized the person with the flowers. “You got me flowers too?”

“Of course, I did. For my favourite sister.”

“I’m your only sister,” says Medea with a giggle. From beside Grant, Joey nodded.

“Are you?” he asks, playing along. “Oops, silly me.” Then his gaze flickered to the other bouquet of flowers offered out to her. “...Oh,” says Grant with an annoyed look. “I didn’t realize you were here.”

Joey waved in greeting at him. Though like Medea, he also has a slightly worried look as Grant’s attention locked in on him. 

“Why wouldn’t I be?” asks Slade lightly. 

Grant crossed his arms. “Maybe because someone was extremely late. Did you even watch her performance this time around?”

“Yes.” He really did.

“Doubt it. You didn’t even show at her last one.”

“I had work.”

“Work that keeps you away from any of our events? When was the last time you attended one of her events? Or any of ours?”

“Knock it off,” signs Joey irritatedly. “This isn’t about either of you or your stupid egos. This is Medea’s day, remember?” Before waiting for their responses, Joey tugs Medea away. “Come on, Medi,” he signs. “Let’s leave the two knuckleheads to it and get ice cream. How about that?”

She glanced warily at the other two. “Should we leave them alone? What if they fight?”

 “They’ll manage.”

“You didn’t even bring a wallet,” points out Grant, as if irritated at the thought of being left behind. Though Slade knew better than to think that. “Don’t tell me you’re going to make her pay for it. Did you bring money with you, Medi?”

Medea shook her head.

Instead, Joey turned them and held out his hand. “Wallet,” he signed. At that, two different wallets are pulled out. Joey glances briefly at them before taking both.

“Hey!” protested Grant. “You...”

“We’re going to be holding onto them until the two of you can behave,” signs Joey. “So maybe if the two of you settle whatever it is you have, we can all have ice cream. Otherwise, well...it’s not our problem.” With that he tugs Medea along, leaving the two of them behind. 

The two stare stubbornly at each other before Slade sighs when things look to be going nowhere. “Ok, what is this really about?”

“I thought you were doing better. Except now you’re pulling the same shit with her? Maybe it’s different because Joey and I are older. But she’s still young. I won’t have her wondering if you actually love her or not. Because let’s face it, you’re great at saying one thing then doing another. Especially when it comes to us.”

“What do you mean?” At his eldest’s words, Slade won’t lie and say that it didn’t hurt. Had he been such a terrible father that his boys had doubted his love for them? And for Medea?

“It’s always work, isn’t it? What exactly do you do, Father? What kind of work are you doing that involves that much travelling? That much that you keep missing events?”

Of all the things that Slade expected, this was not it. Still now was not the place. “This is not the time or place.”

“And why not?” Grant crossed his arms and frowned.

“Because things aren’t as clear-cut as you think they are going to be. I...I’ve come to a realization...but this is something that I need the three of you to listen to at once. Things will be easier like that...for all of us.”

“And you’ll explain everything?” As if sensing his hesitation to answer immediately, Grant scoffed. “Of course you won’t.”

“I’ll explain everything,” he says seriously. “I promise it. I’ll answer whatever you ask when I sit down and have the conversation with all three of you.”

His eldest stares at his earnest tone, a look of bafflement on his face. “You will?”

“You have my word.”

Chapter Text

Slade is a meticulous planner. 

They all know it. 

His children, Billy, Addie. 

As do his occasional allies.

And his enemies. 

He has backup plans for plans. 

For plans involving work and for family.

The children like to think that he over-plans sometimes. Though they never complain when it’s to their benefit.

They certainly didn’t when he pulled out drinks when they complained earlier that it was useless to bring drinks with them on such a short hike. By the end of the hike, they drained his supply.

But how does he explain his career to his children?

He couldn’t drop it on them like a bomb. 

‘Hi kids, I occasionally kill people for a living. And by the way, we’re having stir-fry for dinner,’ was a ridiculous way. Instantly vetoed. 

Showing the kids his suit? Possible. But what if they thought he was one of those rabid fans? He’d run into a fair share of them throughout his career. Some of those fans were…an acquired taste. One he had no intention of ever understanding. 

Like that one for Joker. That was in poor taste. 

He needed to clear his head. 

Maybe a run would help.

It’s been a week and Slade thinks he’s figured things out. He has a plan. 

He’s in the process of shedding his armour when Grant calls. Picking up, they are in the middle of confirming that they were all meeting later when everything goes to hell. 

“Grant? Grant!” he calls, begging for his eldest to answer. His heart had stopped at the sound of an explosion. Please. He couldn’t- not like this-

A groan answers him. “Pops? You there?”

“Grant, where are you? Are you injured? And your siblings?”

From his eldest, he gets a very basic rundown. Something had exploded, Grant was fine. But he had no idea where the other two were, there had been a commotion and they had been separated. 

Although he didn’t want to end the call, he had to. He couldn’t risk Grant’s phone running out of battery. He also had two more children that were missing. So instead, he directs Grant to a safer spot, promising to find him the moment he could. 

The moment the call ended, Slade’s mind snapped into work. His helmet was sitting on the coffee table, the single eye-opening staring right into his very soul.

What choice will you make, Slade Wilson?

Deathstroke or fatherhood?

His hand reaches out as his mind comes to a decision. 

I’m coming for you.

The city is in chaos, but thankfully nobody paid him any mind. 

Or at least nobody dared to approach Deathstroke. 

He finds Grant at their agreed-upon meeting spot. Though his eldest looks moments away from leaving. A look of frustration appears on Grant’s face as he dials yet another number. 

It must be Joey’s since his phone hadn’t rung this whole time.

“You shouldn’t b–”

Grant startles, almost dropping his phone in shock. “Deathstroke?”

“Gr–” He stops himself. Fool . Grant would be suspicious if he knew his name. “A-are you alright?”

“Ye-yes.” A lie. Grant was seconds away from running. Or throwing that brick at him first.

There’s a faint sound in the distance and before Grant could make up his mind, Slade grabbed his arm and jerked him backwards. The sword on him unsheathed.

“Hey–” The protest on his lips died as Slade decapitated an alien. “Holy shit.”

He turned back to face Grant, though before he could say a word when his sword shifted to point at someone who’d snuck up on them. “What do you want?” Though the moment he turned, he instantly let the sword fall to his side in shock.

“Joey?” blurts out Grant. Ignoring Slade, he pushed past him and ran to his brother. “You’re alright? You weren’t picking up, I was so worried–”

Joey cut him off with a hand motion. “Nevermind me! Is Medea with you?”

“I thought she was with you!” 

He shook his head. “I can’t find her. We got separated.”

Just like that, Slade thinks the breath has been knocked out of his lungs. Where was his daughter? His mind goes into a very dark place and he has to remind himself that that wasn’t an option. 

She was fine. 

Maybe a little shaken up, but she was fine. 

She had to be. 

For the moment, his sons ignore him as they try to figure out where Medea could be. It’s when they start leaving his vicinity that he moves. He grabs the back of their collars. 

“Hey-”

Ignoring their protests, he drags them along, stopping when he sees an abandoned car. One easy to jump-start. “Get in the car.”

“Listen, Deathstroke, sir,” says Grant. “Our parents will kill you if you hurt my brother–”

Joey shot him a dirty look. “Grant- not the time,” he signs.

Slade silently agreed. That and his murderous tendencies would extend to all his children if anyone hurt them. “Just get in the car,” he repeats. “And stay in the car. Unless you’re going to die, you two will stay there.”

They nod, but Slade can read the reluctance all over their faces. Because Medea is still missing. 

“I will find her,” he says, “your sister,” he clarifies to their confusion. “But you two need to get somewhere safe first.”

It takes some back and forth, but Slade extracts a promise that they will get out of here, to somewhere safe while he goes looking for Medea. Confident that they’ll agree, he jumps starts the car for them, making sure they drive off before heading off on his own.

Please let her be alright. 

These are the times that Slade wished that he made his children wear trackers. Or at least slipped them into their clothing. It would make things so much easier. 

But it was an invasion of privacy. 

One he wished he hadn’t thought of respecting because he was paying the price of it now. 

He’s in the midst of following the leads that Grant and Joey had left him when he hears a familiar voice. Could it?

“–ad!”

Slade’s head snaps in the direction that it comes from. Medea! From the crowd, he spots Medea’s head. It’s easy to head in her direction, not when everybody is fleeing away from the commotion. Nobody pays him any mind, well nobody except for her.

Because Medea stares at him before a look of recognition appears in her eyes. 

Suddenly, a blur of colour runs at him. He catches her with ease. “I–”

He’s interrupted when she holds out a stack of cash and coins to him. “I can’t find my family! I know I don’t have much, but please–”

Dumbly, he takes it. “You’re hiring me?” he says, mostly to himself. 

“My brother says you’re a man of your word. And you always finish your jobs, please?” She turns her hopeful eyes at him, pleading silently. “I’ll pay you more if you finish this.” 

He stays silent, still shocked at the turn of events. And how Medea holds herself like Shiva when he hasn’t said anything yet. Her pleading expression turns to one of haughtiness. Like he’s the one to ask for the favour rather than vice-versa. The startling resemblance to Shiva is what shakes him out of his thoughts. “Alright. There’s no need,” he says gruffly, trying to hide the relief that flows through his veins. 

All his children are accounted for. Thank god.

“Okay. I have two brothers, and my dad–”

“It’s alright, I know where your brothers are. They are safe. I’ll bring you to them, okay, kiddo?”

She sagged in relief. “Okay.”

Medea’s arms tightened around him as he vaulted from one roof to another. He kept one hand holding her close to him as they moved across the city. 

“You’re going to have to let go,” he says awkwardly when they land beside where his bike had been stashed. “Kid?”

But just as her feet hit the ground, the crunch of glass has him pushing her behind him. He turns, his sword unsheathed to a group of men armed. “Gentlemen.” As an afterthought, he adds, “Miss.”

“Well, well, well. Look who we have here, Deathstroke.”

A growl of frustration escaped him. Two-bit thugs. If he wasn’t worried that stray bullets would hit his daughter, he would have slaughtered then and there. 

“You see, you…”

Slade tuned out the man’s voice. Instead, he focused on more important things. Like not traumatizing Medea. “Get behind the dumpster.” He waits for her steps to fade out before he tunes back into the conversation. “This is getting boring. Why don’t we skip to the main event?”

They lifted their weapons and Slade sighed internally. When would these people learn? They never stood a chance. 

It takes minutes to break up the group. Some lay at his feet dead while the others attempted to flee. Since they were still in his peripheral vision, he pulled out a gun and shot them down. 

They had seen Medea. 

That wasn’t a risk he was willing to take. 

No loose ends.

Bending down, he pocketed a kryptonite knife from the cooling body. 

In a different situation, he would have laughed. Really? Did they think he was a Kryptonian?

Carefully, he made his way back toward the dumpster. “Kid?”

There’s a rustle before Medea cautiously peeks out. She tried to look behind him, but it was futile because Slade had made sure that she wouldn’t see the bodies littering the ground. 

“Let’s get you out of here.”

She nods, taking his outstretched hand. Though she startles when he lifts her. “Wha–” 

“Eyes closed,” he orders. “I don’t want to hear otherwise. Or I’ll drop you.” 

At his tone, she automatically tightened her hold on him. 

They are about a block out when there’s a hiss and he turns to see an alien. Christ, was his luck that bad?

His sword is unsheathed, but his opponent is taken care of when a car sped by. Bodily slamming the alien, knocking them out and their body flying through the air with a large thud.

In his arms, Medea twitched, her hands almost white from how hard she’s gripping onto him. 

“Y..you…” Words can’t describe the fury that courses through him. All this time he thought his sons were safe and out of the city. But no, they were still here. “Why are you two here?” 

Medea squirmed in his hold, having opened her eyes to see her brothers, yet Slade didn't let go. “Grant?” 

His eldest cranks the window down and leans out. “What? We stayed in the car.” His eyes narrow at the bundle in his arms. “Medi, get in the car.”

Slade lets go of Medea this time and she scurries into the car. The urge to sigh at his eldest’s actions is tampered down by a more urgent thought. He needs to get them out of here. Now . “You three need to leave.”

“But Dad–” protests Medea from the backseat. “You said you’d find all of them!” She points an accusing finger at him. “You took the job, so you can’t back down now.”

He can’t help the sigh this time around. Curse her perceptiveness. 

Joey sputtered. “Medea? The job?”

“I never lied.”

“But…” interrupts Medea, frowning. The similarity to Shiva was uncanny.

“Grown-ups don’t need children to save them. Look, I know your father. He’s fine. I’ll send him your way.” On the hood of the car, he taps out a pattern on the car. One that only he and his children know. The first time, they narrowed their eyes at him. He repeats it once more. “Okay?”

“Fine.”

This time he places a tracker on the car, he doesn’t care if they find it. Because clearly, his children can’t follow instructions. Watching as the car drives out of his sight, he’s relieved when he sees that they’ve decided to listen this time. 

He sets an alert for the tracker, one that’ll make sure that they get there safely. In the meantime, he’s going to make sure that nothing follows them on their way out.

He turns his attention back to the alien that’s starting to stir. 

Nothing was going to hurt his children.

Not if he could prevent it.

It wasn’t a long drive, but it felt like the car was silent for the duration of their trip. Eventually, they stopped at a house on the outskirts of New York City. 

“I knew that Pops was loaded, but this level of security is insane…” says Grant, under his breath as he input yet another password. “A hand scanner?” Cautiously, he put his hand there.

Medea gripped Joey’s hands worriedly. “Is this the right address?”

Joey squeezes back reassuringly and nods. “We’ll trust him this once.”

“Shit, another password?” Grant punched yet another combination. “Okay, okay, the hint is important dates. What could it be?”

“Birthdays?” signs Joey. “Anniversary?”

“I’ve tried their anniversary. Medi’s birthday, yours and Uncle Billy’s. Grandma’s birthday too.”

“Yours?” pipes in Medea.

“Oh, I don’t know. But I’ll give it a try.” Surprise appeared on his face as the electronic lock finally clicked open. “Okay, get in.”

Inside reveals almost a family home of sorts. The level of organization here is reminiscent of their father’s exacting standards. 

“Why?” asks Medea, voicing the question that everyone’s wondering. Why does Dad need to have such a secure place? How does Deathstroke know it? What’s their connection?

Grant shook his head as he closed the door behind them. “I don’t know, Medi. I suppose we’re about to find out.”

“Just texted Pops,” signs Joey. “He said he’s coming as fast as he can. Maybe twenty minutes. Something about traffic.”

“Okay.”

The safe house is standing and in one piece when he arrives. 

A good sign. 

Slade doesn’t know what to expect when he enters the safe house. 

Will the children have figured it out already?

Do they already hate him?

He’s all too focused on what could go wrong that the blur of colour that runs at him almost surprises him. 

“Dad! You’re alright!” says Medea. Her grip on him is so tight that it’s a marvel that she hasn’t torn through the fabric. Worry was painted all over her face.  

He grunts quietly when she accidentally brushes against a healing wound. 

“Dad?”

“No, it’s alright.” He tries to smile. “Just some bruising.” It must not work, since her brows furrow and her lips purse. “Really, Princess. Nothing I’ve never dealt with before.”

She nods slowly, though she tries hard to hide her disbelief from him. “M’glad that you’re alright.”

 He hummed in acknowledgement, ruffling her hair. 

“Dad–” The protest was half-hearted though. 

 “There was no trouble getting here?” he asks, looking up to see the relieved look on both his sons’ faces. 

Joey shook his head while Grant replied, “None.”

That day is one of quiet coexistence between the four of them. He had tried to offer up an explanation for why he had such a high-security home. 

But his children were having none of it, they staunchly refused to hear an explanation. They were more preoccupied with the fact that they had all made it out alive. Medea refuses to let him out of her sight, she’s always following him along. Something she hadn’t done since she was a toddler. 

Grant and Joey were of a similar mind. They constantly kept track of which sibling was in which room. Particularly Medea. This meant that they all ended up in the same room, no matter which room they went into.

In their defence, Slade thinks this is the first time that the three had been put together into a situation like this. So he doesn’t complain. He's still recovering from the scare too. That was a situation he hoped would never arise again. 

Deathstroke could wait another day. 

For now, he would focus on his time with his family.

It takes another two weeks before he can safely bring it up. 

That event had only strengthened his resolve to let his children know of his alias. 

Slade drives the children back to that very same safe house. 

“Pops?” asks Grant, when he watches Slade put in another password, revealing a hidden door that they hadn’t seen last time. 

“I promised you that conversation.” He watched as the realization dawned on his eldest’s face. “All of you.”

“Dad?” Medea looked at him, confused. 

“Let me explain.” Opening the door, he gestured for them to enter first. 

Grant and Joey did, though with some hesitation. Medea slipped her hand into his. The three children took their time looking around the room, from the training mats to the targets set up.

“There’s more to this,” states Grant. “Isn’t there?”

Joey looked at him expectantly. 

“Yes. Yes, there is,” Slade says quietly. This time he takes the lead, Medea still holding his hand, he brings them over to a more hidden panel. In front of them, he places his free hand on the scanner and inputs another password, unlocking it. 

Their eyes widened in shock at the rows and rows of stored weaponry –of knives, guns, of weapons that had no need to be used hunting animals – though no questions came to be voiced. Gently, Slade tugged Medea along and the rest of them followed to a very specific locker. One that housed his full suit. 

“Deathstroke?” says Medea dazedly. 

A harsh intake of air had him glancing to see Joey with wide eyes. 

Beside him, Grant looked conflicted. “How…no way….”

It was almost uncanny how they all seemed to glance back at him at the same moment. 

“I operate as Deathstroke.”

“You’ve worn that mask since the very beginning?” prods Grant. "It's always been you?"

“Yes.”

“Is this why Deathstroke returned my money?” says Medea, though it’s mostly directed to herself. She startles when he answers once more before looking between the suit and him. 

“Why?” signs Joey. “Why now?”

“That…that is a long story, but I will answer that to the best of my abilities.”

Mid-explanation, they end up returning to the living room. Where Grant and Joey continuously pose various questions to him. Of his career. Medea is strangely quiet, staring between all of them. 

He won’t lie, it hurts when Medea’s hand leaves him mid-explanation. Instead, she leans into Joey. Joey, who lets her curl into his embrace. 

Eventually the questions run out and his children stare up at him. Almost like it’s the first time they are truly seeing him. Which given their recent revelation is fair. 

A myriad of expressions appear in their eyes. There’s conflict, and he wonders if blame is there too in Joey’s expression. Grant bites his lip, unsure of what to say. And Medea continues sneaking glances at all three of them. 

“Do you have any other questions for me?” he says carefully. “I can try to answer them.”

Silence settled over the children, all looking in various stages of thought. Minutes pass painstakingly, before Joey stood up without prompt, making for the door. He turned to him with a complicated expression in his eyes. “Sorry, I...I need some time,” he signs. “Without you.”

Slade nods slowly. “Take as much time as you need.” It hurt, but he understood. 

“Joey, wait,” calls out Grant, moving to follow. “Let me come with.”

This left Medea on the couch, hesitantly glancing between her brothers and him. 

Grant caught her hesitation and offered a hand out in her direction. “Come with us, Medi.” From beside him, Joey grabs his hand back and shakes his head. 

Joey narrowed his eyes at Grant. “Don’t force her to pick a side because of us. Her situation is different,” he signed. To her, he directs, “It’s okay, Medi, you can stay if you want. I…I just want some space right now. I won’t forget about you.” 

She glances at him once again, eyes silently asking what to do. 

“You can go with them if you want.”

Medea glanced a few more times between him and her brothers. “Sorry,” she mumbles.

Joey shook his head, a wistful smile appearing. “It’s alright.”

But to everyone’s surprise, Medea gets up and runs to Joey, reaching for his hand. “I want to go with you,” she says firmly. 

Joey nods numbly. Over her head, he mouths the words, ‘I’ll bring her back.’

Slade waves them off with a motion. “If the three of you need anything, give me a call.”

It had been hours since they left, and as much as he wanted to go check in on them, he thinks he would break whatever trust they had left in him if he did so.

Slade sits with his head in his hands. He wonders if he’s made a mistake. 

Should he not have told them?

He isn’t sure how long he stays like that. But sometime during that, the door creaks open and he hears the pitter-patter of footsteps. 

He tries not to analyze the situation, but he can’t help the small bubble of hope that grows. The hope that they all came back because he can tell that it’s more than one person.

His more pessimistic side reminds him of Joey’s earlier promise. The boys could just be dropping Medea off before leaving. 

Still. 

Medea’s voice filters through from the front door. “Dad?”

“Over here,” he calls from the living room.

His three children shuffle awkwardly into the room. There’s poking and prodding between Grant and Joey before Medea eventually speaks up. “Dad...we want to trust you, but we also need you to promise some things.”

“What is it?”

That is where she stops talking because she tugs at her brothers’ hands to continue. 

“You can’t suddenly revert to what you were like before,” starts Grant. “Before Medi, you used to travel so much. Yeah, you were home, but we barely saw you between your trips. We have good memories with you, but not very many.”

“And you have to separate work from this,” signs Joey, gesturing to the four of them. “I don’t think any of us could persuade you to drop this, and there’s bound to be times where things crossover. But I won’t have any of them permanently hurt because of your job. So we don’t want any more secrets from you. We’ll be honest too.”

He flinched at the reminder. “Joey, I–” The words are stuck in his throat. I’m sorry. It’s my fault...

Joey shook his head. “I know, Pops.”

“I...” He struggles to find the right words. Thank you for coming back. For giving me one more chance…

“Don’t hurt yourself,” says Grant jokingly. “We know that words aren’t your preferred weapons.”

“Kids...I–”

“Don’t cry, Dad,” says his youngest, rushing over to hug him tight. “Grant says that crying makes people look ugly. I don’t want you to be ugly.”

“Does it?” As he tries to hold back a laugh, he can’t help but shake at the ridiculousness of her reasoning. “Okay, I won’t cry.”

But because she can’t see his face from her position, Medea mistakes it for something else. “Dad!”

“Medi!” hissed Grant. Beside him, Joey is trying to bite back a laugh. 

A glance at his eldest shows his embarrassment. “Is this how you cheer people up, Grant?”

“It is when he makes Medi cry,” signs Joey to Grant’s mortification. “You’ve never seen him so desperate till then.”

“Well, not all of us are baby whisperers,” Grant shoots back. 

Medea lets go of him slightly to turn and glare at Grant. “I’m not a baby!”

“You’re the youngest and that makes you the baby. Baby Medi.”

“No!”

“Kids...” he warns before things could get any more heated. Then he turned to Joey and Grant. “I–”

“There’s one more thing,” says Grant seriously. Beside him, Joey nods solemnly. “We can’t turn back time, but Medi is different. She is still young. So if you try to pull the same shit you did when we were younger–”

“We won’t care if you are Deathstroke or not. We’re taking her with us and cutting ties with you. She deserves a semi-normal childhood,” signs Joey. “”

“Joey! Grant!” says Medea. Her expression betrayed her shock, his sons must not have mentioned this with her. “You didn’t say that earlier. Don’t I get to choose?”

“The grown-ups are talking.”

She harrumphs. “Dad?”

“Okay,” he says, agreeing easily. “If it means that the three of you are safe, then alright.”

“Dad! You weren’t supposed to agree.” She moves off his lap and sits on the far edge of the couch, frowning at all three of them. “You can try. But in the end, I’ll be the one to decide. You’ll have to drag me kicking and screaming.”

“You’re a midget,” says Grant with a snort. “It’s not that hard.”

Before a tantrum could break out, he intervenes. “Kids…” 

All three turn back their attention to him. Yet something was still off. 

Slade studied his children’s expression intently, slight guilt was present on all their faces. “What else happened? Did someone–”

“You’re going to want to stay sitting down for this,” signs Joey. “And no, nothing happened while we were out.”

“Okay.” His levels of worry were off the charts now. Things never started well when all three looked so serious.

Here’s something that hadn’t crossed his mind. It seemed that he was on the right track when he told his children of his alias. 

There’s Joey who’s demonstrated his newfound ability. Slade is still unsure of how things came to be, but perhaps him surviving that serum was more than luck. Especially if it affected Joey. Maybe the serum simply accelerated things. And he had a latent meta-gene that he passed onto them, one that was more prominent in Joey. 

There’s Grant’s scenario. Of H.I.V.E. and their attempts to recruit him and promises of giving him the serum so he could be on the same level as his idol. The stakes were too good to be true, Slade was going to look in on it. The organization was most definitely hiding something. Thankfully, Grant hadn't taken the offer yet. 

Then Joey and Grant bring up their curiosity about Medea. Of how she always seemed to read people a little too well. In this scenario, there are a few possibilities. Such as inheriting Shiva’s ability, or being a meta like Joey. Or maybe having a mixture of both. 

“I don’t know if you've noticed it, but on the playground, she practically runs circles around the other children in almost every way possible,” says Grant. “So when Medi says that she is undefeatable at tag, it’s the truth.”

Joey nods. “It’s almost scary how the odds are almost always in her favour.”

“What do you mean?” asks Medea with a frown. “Dad kind of does it too, I think.”

“Medi...” A sheepish look appears on Joey’s face. “You always seem to be steps ahead of them and honestly, we’re not too sure how?”

Her brows furrowed in confusion. “I don’t get it. Can’t you see it too?”

“See it?” signs Joey patiently. “Can you elaborate on that?”

“You just look and read the signs,” she says, gesturing wildly. “All of you do it too. Sort of.” She paused to think. “Yeah, it’s not consistent though.”

“What?” 

“Princess?” says Slade carefully, he was trying to wrap his head around the situation. It seemed that he wasn’t the only one with something to share. Read? Had she inherited Shiva’s ability?

“Like, if you just look.” She squints and gestures at them. “Tell me something, anything. It could be a lie or anything.” When they all stare at her blankly, she sighs. “Grant, did you eat my slice of cake?”

“No.”

“He’s lying,” she says confidently. Then she narrowed her eyes. “You swore you wouldn’t eat mine.”

“I thought it was Joey’s!”

“He’s lying,” interrupted Joey. “He watched me eat my slice.”

Medea looked shocked. “Joey?”

“I didn’t know it was yours.” His younger son paled at the full brunt of Medea’s betrayed look. “Medi, please.”

A displeased look made its way onto her face. “You lied. I thought I could trust you.”

It’s almost comical how both his sons instantly try to come up with excuses, placating and promising Medea that it was an accident. But if anything, she looks more skeptical at their words. 

He coughs lightly, stopping the conversation. “Maybe we should continue this topic later? And get back on track?” For that Grant sends him a grateful look.

“Right. Medi...” says Grant carefully. “Even if we–” He gestures to himself and Joey. “–have a relatively good guess of someone’s next moves, you do it differently. It’s like you read other people’s body language. And their emotions too. Consistently.”

“Like just now. How did you know it was a lie?” signs Joey sheepishly. 

Her eyes narrowed at Joey’s statement before she turned to Slade. “I just read their tells?”

“Tells?” echoes Grant. “What tells?”

Medea gestures vaguely at them. “Your motions? Your body language?”

“So when you play tag or anything active...” trails off Slade, wanting more clarification. 

She nods reluctantly. “I can sort of see your feints in advance. It’s easier to dodge them at school, but I guess it makes sense how I rarely got past you now. Because sometimes your actions...” she frowned as she tried to find the words for it, “...it’s jumbled. You show off more than one possibility.”

The room goes silent at her declaration. 

Slade thinks things seem to make more sense now. Maybe Medea had taken that long to talk because she hadn’t seen the need for it. Not when she could read their body language. Her preference for almost non-verbal conversations was understandable now. 

“Does this mean I can’t play sports anymore?” she asks, once nobody had said anything for minutes. Then her eyes widened with horror. “Dad, does...does this mean I’ve been cheating the whole time?”

Just like that, the silence is broken. Grant snickered while Joey pondered over it thoughtfully. “Technically,” he signs, “is it cheating if you didn’t know? Because based on what you said, none of us could provide that ‘normal’ benchmark for you. Especially if Pops can do a very similar thing.” Joey turns to him. “You can, right?”

He nods slowly. “It’s similar, but not quite how it works for her mother.”

“Can’t you just turn it off?” suggests Grant unhelpfully to Medea. “Problem solved, right?”

“No? I don’t know how to,” she says, chin wobbling. Turning to him, she looked on the verge of tears, “Dad, I don’t know what to do. Are people going to take me away from you? I don’t want to be experimented on…”

Oh no, she was going to cry. “No, no. It’s fine,” he reassures his youngest as she scrambled back to sit beside him. “Nobody is ever going to experiment on you or take you away. I promise that.” It’d be a cold day in hell before he let someone do that to any of his children. “To all of you.”

It’s a heavy and solemn declaration, one that causes all his children to stare at him.

Grant’s the first to break the silence. He looks away briefly before shifting to meet his gaze. “Okay. I’ll believe you.”

Joey’s the next to nod, with Medea being quick to follow. 

That night, things are a bit more muted in the Wilson household. Dinner is a quiet affair. Everyone poked at their food, unsure what to say to each other. 

It’s still a revelation that the children are reeling from. 

That their father is a mercenary. If not one of the more notorious ones. 

But it’s Friday. And in their household, it’s a tradition, movie night. It’s technically Grant’s turn to choose the movie. And Slade wonders whether it would be better to bow out tonight. 

Give the children the space to themselves.

Except they seem to think otherwise. 

Medea tugs at him to join them. “Dad, you have to sit with me. Grant’s choosing a horror movie,” she says in a hushed voice. “You won’t make me sit alone, will you?”

“Are you sure?” Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Joey make sure that all their favourite snacks are on the table. Grant triumphantly waved the newest slasher movie around.

She nods vehemently. 

And as he sits down, Grant wordlessly passes him the bowl of popcorn. Another tradition of theirs. Because the rest of them tend to knock it over, spilling it when they freak out or in the heat of the moment. 

Medea huddles right next to him, tensing every time tensions seem to run high in the film. 

Still, movie night is a hushed affair. 

It’s only after the first murder occurs on screen that they start speaking a lot more. “Is that even realistic?” asks Grant. 

It takes a second to realize that it’s toward him. “No.” His children seem to be waiting for elaboration. “Less bloody and you need a lot more strength.” Satisfied, they turn back to the movie. 

Though Slade wonders if he should have vetoed the movie earlier because this movie is a lot bloodier than any of them should be watching. As the film goes on, the children move closer and closer to him.

He almost loses his hearing when all three scream when the murderer appears on-screen. It leaves his ears ringing for a minute too long. 

“Have you ever decapitated a man?” signs Joey as they watch a character on-screen lose their head.

“Yes.”

“Would you teach us how?” asks Grant to Medea’s wary look. “What? I would never hurt you or Joey.”

“Turn eighteen and graduate high school. Then I’ll consider it.”

Medea gave him a look. One that seemed to say, ‘Really?’

Somehow they manage to persuade him into staying for more movies. Medea loudly protests that she wouldn’t fall asleep, she demands to stay up as late as her brothers. And with the rest of them heavily backing her, how could he say no? 

Joey picks the next one, a spy movie. And they seem to enjoy asking him about every single detail of the movie. Of whether things were doable or if they were just fiction.

“Would you teach us to drive like that?” asks Medea, eyes wide at the car chase scene. “That looks so cool.”

“For the sake of my sanity, no.”

Grant snickered. 

Medea tries to not fall asleep and she does try her best to not, she really does. 

But it’s hard to stay awake, not when her Dad is right beside her and there’s a warm blanket on top of her. 

As the minutes pass, it gets harder to resist. She barely manages. Though as the movie inches closer to the end, Medea dreads having to move out from the blanket.

It’ll be so cold. And Dad wouldn't be patient because he’d want to make sure that she went to bed immediately afterwards. 

So she hatches a plan to not have to move. As the movie reaches its climax she leans against her dad. He doesn’t say anything, instead, he glances briefly at her before turning his attention back to the movie. While he’s focused on the film, she closes her eyes briefly and opens them every time she feels him turn slightly to glance at her. 

Eventually, the breaks between him glancing at her grew longer and Medea grew bolder. She closed her eyes and didn’t move. It took quite a while, but her dad finally noticed.

A sigh escapes him. “This is why you have a set bedtime.” He nudges her slowly to the side, and Medea lets her body go limp, following the direction that he’d nudged her in. 

Eyes closed, Medea feels the blanket arranged around her before she gets lifted into her dad’s arms. With the way the blanket was positioned, it covered most of her mouth and Medea had to bite down the urge to giggle as she was carried up the stairs and to her room. 

Though the corners of her mouth turned downwards as she heard Grant whisper to Joey about ‘Sleeping Beauty’.

Great, another princess-related nickname. 

It was all Dad’s fault. He was the one to give her that nickname, Princess. 

Grant and Joey were always coming up with other nicknames to call her.

Still, she hadn’t thought that it would have been successful this time. Not with how hard it was to pull things over him. He seemed to have an uncanny sixth sense for uncovering them. It made sense now, considering what his job was. So, she stays silent and tries her best to pretend to be asleep as he pulls the blankets around her in her bedroom. 

“Night, Medea,” he murmurs.

“Je t’aime, Papa,” she whispers back. The door slowly closed shut. A few moments later, she hears the television turned off. Then the sound of her brothers coming up the stairs to their own rooms. And as the seconds pass, she soon falls asleep. 

Unbeknownst to her, Slade had paused by the door at her voice and an amused smile appeared. Medea had spoken so quietly that he almost missed it. Quietly, he closed the door. Rather than leaving right away, he paused for a moment. “Je t’aime, ma princesse. Toujours.” 

Already a plotter at such a young age. 

Shaking his head in amusement, he made his way back to the living room, where his sons were cleaning up the mess they had made. “It’s fine. Let me handle it.”

“You sure?” signs Joey. 

“It’s getting late, you two should head to bed.” He watched as the two bid him goodnight, heading toward the stairs en route to their rooms.  

As he started cleaning up, he couldn’t help but wonder. He already had his hands full with the three of them. 

Who knows how much trouble they’d bring when they grew up?

Chapter Text

His youngest had been standing by the kitchen counter for far too long now. But Slade knew better than to push, he’d glanced up once and seen the anxious way that she looked around the room. 

Eventually, she calls out his name quietly. “Dad?”

He made a hum of acknowledgement and looked up from the cutting board. 

She shuffled in her spot awkwardly. “Should I set the table?”

“It’s still early.” At her dejection, he adds, “Twenty minutes give or take. But you can start now.”

She flitted between the kitchen and the dining room, gathering and setting down cutlery. Though when she finished, she returned to the same spot she had been earlier. Still, he patiently waited for her to speak.

“Is Maman…is she the same as you too?”

The blade in his hand slips and he narrowly missed the carrot. “What?” 

“Is she in the same business?” 

Slade thinks he has an inkling toward where this is leading. “Yes.” He put down the knife on the cutting board.

“Is her name still Sandra?”

Ah.

“Dad?” she asks hesitantly. “I…Who is she?” 

He hesitates, but in the end, he gives in. “Lady Shiva.”

Her eyebrows furrowed together in concentration. She glances up at him, a multitude of questions itching to spill out, yet she doesn’t say anything.

“Baby?”

Medea shook her head and disappeared from the kitchen. 

Slade tried not to listen in on the whispers as she ran to the living room where his eldest was sitting. But even if he tried to ignore them, his enhanced hearing was making it very hard. Not with how Grant’s breath had hitched or the question that falls from Medea’s lips. 

Instead, he speaks up to make sure they can hear him. “Grant, turn on the news, will you?”

Thankfully, Grant takes the hint and turns up the volume, allowing the weather to drone out their conversation. 

The news channel has just switched to the sports section when Medea reappears in front of him. “Grant wants to know if dinner is almost done.”

He raised an eyebrow at that. Seeing that she wouldn’t budge, he sighs lightly. “Five minutes.”

She nods but doesn’t flee into the safety of the living room either. Instead, she frowns.

“You can just ask,” he offers after a moment. “I promised that I’d be honest.”

“I know.”

“What is it?” 

Medea stays stubbornly silent. It’s only as he turns away from her for the bowls in the cabinet that she speaks. “How was it safer?” 

Slade turned back to her, tilting his head slightly, gesturing for her to elaborate. 

“If you could take care of the three of us, then why couldn’t she at least visit?” blurts out Medea. “You said that when you two met, she knew who you were. Why do you keep saying that she cares about me? She left me and never looked back. At least Adeline is still present in their life. ” 

“I…oh, Princess. There’s–” He took a breath. “–there’s a lot more to that.”

“Is there?” She didn’t look convinced. 

“There is,” he says firmly. Guessing her thoughts, he adds, “It’s not my story to share, but she has her reasons.” How he felt about them though was another story, one he wasn’t telling Medea either.

Her bottom lip trembled as if threatening to break into tears. Yet for once, they didn’t affect his decision to stand firm. 

“Fine,” she throws out after a moment. “I…I’ll just go now.”

With a few steps, he blocked Medea’s hasty exit. “Medea.”

She muttered something unintelligible. He didn’t budge, and she stood her ground for another minute or so. Eventually, she looked up to meet his gaze. “Nothing.” Her resolve didn’t last long either because she soon threw herself into his arms and the truth came spilling out of her. 

A child’s mind is quite imaginative at times. He can only sift so much out from what she tells him, but sometimes, he wishes that he could protect his children from everything. Even if it’s impossible. 

Medea’s mind had spiralled from snide comments being made for not having a motherly presence in her life. Something that he was going to look into privately– what adult or child was saying such things? To his princess nonetheless?

Somehow she’d gotten it into her head that she was an accident, a burden. One that Shiva had dumped onto him. And if she hadn’t existed, things would be easier for everyone else. That she wouldn’t be a reason that he was so limited in his job options. 

“Oh, baby,” he murmured, comforting her, soothing her unfounded worries. “Never think that. You know that we all love you, right? Not just us, but your brothers too. You three are far more important to me than that.”

She hugged him tighter. Not letting go. 

Remembering something they’d often repeated between the two of them, he initiates it this time. “Je t’aime.” The simple phrase had become a promise, repeated to reassure the other. One that he had no intention of breaking. 

“Vraiment?” 

“Je t’aimerai toujours,” he says firmly. 

Her hold on him loosens slightly, her body posture relaxing. “Je t’aime aussi, Papa.” They stay like that for an unspecified amount of time before Medea finally shifts in his hold. “Dad?”

“Yeah, Princess?”

“I think something’s burning.”

He sprung into action, and lo and behold, his daughter was correct. And unfortunately, it looked as if their dinner was beyond saving. Slade looked mournfully at the blackened remains, after all that time he’d spent on it too. 

“Sorry,” whispers an apologetic voice. 

Turning back, he found Medea’s guilty face. “Hey, it’s alright. I should have kept a better eye on things. Okay, change of plans. How do you feel about eating out tonight?”

“Like what?”

He shrugged. “I’m open to suggestions. Why don’t you get your coat and tell your brother? I’m going to clean up this first.” With that, he watches as she runs into the next room.

By the time he reached the door, he found the two already dressed and ready to go. “Alright, what are our contenders tonight?”

“Sal–”

Slade let out a sigh. “Not going to a restaurant that solely serves dessert.”

Medea pouted. From beside her, Grant rolled his eyes. “You’re no fun.”

“I try,” he deadpans. “How else will either of you make it to adulthood alive and healthy?”

For the most part, his reveal as Deathstroke hadn’t changed too much. But it had brought about some changes in his family. For one, he gained…more annoying children. 

By now, he’d learned to tune out the taps that Medea and Joey would constantly exchange. It was inevitable that Grant would find out what his siblings had been doing behind his back. But Slade had been banking on the fact that he wouldn’t need to deal with it this early in the morning. 

Oh, how unlucky he was. 

All he wanted was a quiet morning with his coffee. 

He wondered how many seconds of peace he’d get before Grant came down from his room to see his younger siblings hard at work. 

Medea giggled as Joey tapped something on the table. Wisely, their father ignored it as she tapped something in return. 

When Grant had come down from his room, Joey and she had shared a secretive smile and stopped tapping. That was until Grant had his back toward them, Joey had made a funny face, causing her to laugh. 

Her eldest brother had looked suspicious but hadn’t said anything. Rather he turned back to the coffee machine and looked mournfully at how it was empty. 

“Your caffeine addiction concerns me,” says Dad as a way of greeting. “Besides, I told you not to stay up late.”

“As if you’re not the same with your addiction,” shoots back Grant with a glare. “Where did you hide the coffee beans?”

“They aren’t hidden if I tell you.”

Grant made a noise of annoyance. 

All was going well. 

A regular Sunday morning. 

Conspiratorially, Joey tapped the tabletop when Grant was muttering under his breath about the unfairness of being denied coffee. 

Medea snickered and tapped something in response. That was until a cough interrupted her. “What?” She swore she could feel the intensity of the glare that Grant was directing at her. “Morning Grant!” she chirps. 

“You know morse?” he grits out. He was never a morning person, at least not without his coffee. Perhaps that should have been Medea’s first warning.

“You don’t?” she says flippantly.

If looks could kill, then Medea thinks she would have died. “I do.” In a dangerously calm voice, he adds, “What happened to saying that you didn’t know morse code, Medi?”

Her eyes widened. Oops. Still, she tried to remain calm. “It was a recent acc–inquisition?” 

“Acquisition,” corrects Dad, not glancing up from his paper. 

“Yes, a recent acquisition,” she says earnestly. 

“Lies.” Then he looked between her and Joey. “And do you know how I know?” She’s given no time to answer. “Because you’ve been tapping this pattern many times with Joey over the years.”

“You’re imagining it.” From across the table, Joey nods vehemently in agreement while Dad sighs. Getting up, Dad pats her head absentmindedly before heading out of the kitchen and likely up to his study. 

Medea wondered if she imagined the quiet ‘good luck’ that sounds suspiciously like her dad’s voice. 

“Are you lying to me?”

“...No?” she tries. Her nervousness must show because Grant narrows his eyes at her. 

“To your favourite brother?”

“I…I…” Medea stammers, unsure how to respond. Joey looked intrigued at his words too. There was no right answer. Whether she denied or agreed with him, it would cause her to lose her close relationship with the other brother. 

And being the favourite sibling was a hard job, one that she strived to keep. Certain benefits came with being close with each brother. 

“Well?” prompts Grant. The glint in his eye is merciless, telling her that he won’t drop this unless she distracts him somehow. 

No! It was too early to subject her to this!  “I know where Dad hid the coffee!” she blurts out.

Unfortunately, it didn’t seem to faze him. “Oh? That’s nice and all, Medi. But you haven’t answered my question yet.”

She glanced around the room, wondering if she could escape. Glancing back to her brothers, she calculated her chances. 

“Yeah, I don’t think so, Medi,” signs Joey. A look of mischief appears on his face. “Go on, tell him who’s your favourite.”

“You know, I don’t think I’m hungry anymore.” She could make it. Technically. 

“Don’t be ridiculous. You’ve hardly eaten anything.”

She glanced down at her plate and her slice of toast stared back. Untouched and all. “No.” 

“Why not?” pressed Grant. “It’s not like it’s a hard question.”

Yeah, she was treading into dangerous territory here. “I don’t want to,” she says petulantly. “You can’t make me. Neither of you can.”

“Really? What’s stopping us?”

Medea wracked her brains, trying to think of a solution when it dawned on her. “I’m telling him about the garage!” To confuse them even more, she throws the toast right at Joey.

At her words, Grant paled, frozen in shock. Joey on the other hand almost fell out of his seat.

Except before either of them could stop her, she got up, sprinting in the direction of the study. “Dad!”

She didn’t need to look to know that they were hot on her heels.

“Medi– please don’t!” 

“Dad!” she cries out. “They’re being mean again. Save me!” With seconds to spare, she barrels into his room and rushes into his arms. 

Surprised and shocked, he barely gets time to recover when Grant and Joey appear. 

Don’t even remind him of the whole morse code situation.

Slade gets a headache thinking about it. His children were downright menaces. He almost misses the days when they were younger, at least they were quieter. 

His only consolation is that these situations that pop up are fairly lighthearted. 

To his chagrin, things get more serious too.  

Grant asks to be trained. 

Now…now that had been a difficult decision. The first answer that came to mind was no. Because he couldn’t imagine his son or any of his children living a lifestyle like his. He’s been a mercenary for years now, he knew better than anyone the risks that came with the job. Just how many times had been on the verge of death himself? 

Slade can’t imagine them in such a position – no he refused to even entertain the thought of such. He may have the luxury of the serum, while his children had a diluted version. One that might not be able to save them in time.

But Slade also knew that his children were stubborn beyond comprehension. If he didn’t agree, chances were that Grant would seek out others. And other people just might take advantage of him. H.I.V.E was probably the only first one to reach out. Who knew what other enemies might be hiding in the shadows?

Deathstroke sees the many variables, the liabilities from taking in an apprentice. The losses and potential gains. Training requires time, time that could be spent on contracts. All from the perspective of a mercenary. 

Slade Wilson holds Deathstroke back before he can shut the request down. He refutes the cons, money, he has plenty. Time? Perhaps not so much before his children are all grown up and leave the nest. Slade listens to Grant’s reasoning. While he does want to follow in his footsteps, Grant’s underlying reason is to ensure that never again will any of his siblings be harmed. 

So he agrees, coming to an accord with his children.

He will train them. To an extent. Loathe as he is to admit, there will be a day that he won’t be there in time. He has enemies everywhere and it is safer that they know how to defend themself.

Like the hypocrite he is, he doesn’t want them to take up a mask. Even if he has no desire to put his mask down for good either. But he lays down rules. In the case that they do, they have to be eighteen first.

Training is another learning experience. 

Grant is a natural shot. He takes to combat like a fish to water. Very much like he once did. Training his son is different from training a client. This is something that slips his mind until it happens. 

Slade learns the hard way that his son is perhaps a bit too much like him. At times, their personalities clash and tempers are loosened. Leaving Billy and Medea to suffer the consequences, dealing with their grumpiness and sullen looks. 

“Like father, like son,” muttered Billy under his breath. “Come on, kiddo, let's get you away from them.” He held out his hand to Medea, who’d been watching them with wary eyes. At Medea’s dubious look, he caves, “What is it?”

Slade tried to ignore the whispers and blatant pointing at the two of them, something Grant was trying to hide, with less success. Though eventually, Billy and Medea split up, heading straight for them. 

Medea jumps at him, forcing him to catch her while Billy herded Grant out of the room.

It isn’t subtle in the least, but somehow Billy and Medea had made it work. It’s how Slade supposed he ended up in this situation hours later. 

“You are training your son, Slade. Not some two-bit fighter,” reminds his conscience, eerily in Billy’s voice. 

“You were right,” admits Grant grudgingly. 

At the same time, Slade concedes, “I’m sorry.”

Taken aback, the two stare at each other warily. 

“They set us up, didn’t they?” asks Grant after a moment. 

“So it appears.” 

While he trains all his children, Joey is a different case. He learns to fight, and that is the end of it. Unlike Grant, he prefers to sit back and watch. It’s not that he won’t practice, but if he had the choice to, he prefers to not get involved.

Still, that doesn’t mean he isn’t any good at it. Sometimes he’ll rope in his siblings to see the extent of his powers. 

Rather than offence, Joey has been more interested in defence, so Slade adjusts in what he teaches too. To hone his powers and more defensive manoeuvres. And he knows that Adeline has taught Joey, it’s easy to see it in the way Joey moves. 

Then there’s his youngest, which is a whole different story. Medea can pick up techniques quite easily, he thinks this can be attributed to Shiva’s ability. She absorbs his teachings like a sponge, but he’s got years of experience on her. So he knows just how to circumvent that. 

“A blindfold?” asks Medea, confused. “I thought you were teaching me how to defend myself.”

“I am, but we need you to be able to defend yourself in situations where you don’t have access to that ability. First, let’s focus on your reflexes.” 

He teaches her what to do in the case that she loses the ability. He’s unsure whether that’s possible, but he’d rather prepare for the worst-case scenario.

She’s so young. And in his eyes, no matter how old she is, she’ll always be his baby. 

As Slade mused on the state of his family as of currently, he frowned when he entered the training room. Things were a mess. And was that paint? Pinching the bridge of his nose, he took a deep breath before letting go. 

“Kids?”

Joey rushed into the room, hair untidy and clothes slightly dishevelled. “I need one of you to take the fall. No questions asked,” he signs rapidly. “Please?”

“Not me,” says Grant, “It’s never worth it.” From beside him, Medea took her eyes off the TV to take in Joey’s pale appearance.

“Uncle Billy?” he signs, face full of nervousness. 

He shakes his head. “Sorry, Joey. I’m afraid this one is yours to take, my boy.”

Finally, he turns his head to the last occupant in the room. “Medi?” 

“Two books,” she says, holding up two fingers. 

“One,” he signed.

“Three.”

Billy chuckled as Joey glanced nervously at the door. 

“I’m not mad, but I want an explanation,” comes Slade’s voice in an even tone somewhere down the hallway. At that, everyone knew that it was a lie. 

“That’s kind of sad, Joey,” remarked Grant. “Getting the baby to take the fall?”

A glare was immediately sent his way. 

“Okay, okay.” Grant put his hands up in surrender. “See if I ever defend you again,” he muttered under his breath.

Medea made a noise of annoyance as she crossed her arms. “Well?”

Instantly, Joey’s glare softened to one of pleading. “Two books. You know how Pops can get.”

“Two and a favour.”

Mulling over the offer, Joey quickly nodded. “You’re a saint. Let’s go?”

“How bad is it?” asks Medea as she follows him out. 

“Don’t worry about it, all you need to do is blink that innocent look of yours and you’ll be fine.”

As the two disappeared out the doorway, Grant turned to Billy. “Twenty bucks that Pops catches on, and Joey is the only one punished.”

“Forty that he does and they both do.”

They shook hands, sealing the deal.

“Boys,” he says, his tone full of irritation now. “I’m going to count to–” Out of nowhere, two children appear in his field of view. “Yes?”

“I found the culprit,” signs Joey. Behind him is Medea who avoids eye contact with him.

“Really?” Slade doesn’t know why but it smells fishy here. His instincts tell him that there’s something afoot. 

“Yes.”

He narrowed his eye at his younger son. “I see. Then let me talk to your sister alone.” Instantly, a look of protest appeared on his face. “What? Unless I’m missing something here and there are multiple culprits.”

Joey shook his head vehemently. “Nope. I’ll leave the two of you alone.” Beside him, Medea tugs at Joey’s arm urgently. Still, Joey disappears out the doorway at a speed that the Flash would be envious of.

“Take a seat.”

Carefully, Medea took a seat across from him. 

“So.”

She blinked up at him, looking moments away from bursting into tears. Her eyes were wide and her lip quivered. “Yes?”  

Mentally, Slade had to remind himself to not fall for that thrice-cursed look. There was something about it that caused his iron will to falter. He didn’t want to make her cry. “...An explanation would be nice.” 

“I didn’t mean to! I’m really sorry, Dad! Please don’t be mad, I’ll fix it!”

Fix? “I’m not mad, just disappointed.” It seemed that his suspicions were growing more and more likely. “I thought we had these rules in place for a reason. Are you hurt?”

“No.” A tad of nervousness appeared in her expression. “Why would I be hurt?”

“The broken vase, there was a lot of glass,” he lies. He wondered if Medea even knew what she was taking the fall for. “So how did you break it?”

“I knocked it over.”

Safe answer. Too safe. “Did you?”

She nods. 

“And the paint splatters too? That was you?”

“Yeah.”

Lie. “Walk me through it. How exactly did it happen?”

She fidgeted nervously. “I walked. Then I tripped and it broke.”

“And the suit?”

“Exactly the same thing.”

He narrows his eye at her. She was lying, that was easy to see. On Joey’s behalf, but why? 

Then an idea came into mind, and he found that he knew what exactly to ask to get his answer. “Medea.”

She looked warily at him. 

He bit back a smile. Not wanting her to catch on, he forced his posture to remain neutral. 

Hours later, Slade finds himself surveying the three children unwillingly trudging around the house. “So what have we learned today?” 

The three had been tasked with cleaning the house. It wasn’t to say that the house was a terrible mess, but well…they weren’t up to his standards. 

It’s been about two hours of cleaning and his children look ready to drop from exhaustion. 

“That you’re a killjoy,” mutters Grant. He frowns when a wet towel narrowly misses him. “Hey–”

Slade raised an eyebrow. “What was that? You’re the eldest, set a better example for them.”

He huffed indignantly. “Fine, I won’t bet on my siblings. Even if I offer them a share of my winnings.”

Then Slade turned his attention to Joey. “You’re next.”

Of all his children, Joey is the only one to look slightly abashed. “I will not bribe my siblings to take the fall for me.”

“Hmm…” He sends a meaningful look at Medea, who’s pretending to not notice. 

“Fine.” She only deigned to look up when he cleared his throat loudly. “I won’t accept–Wait, Uncle Billy bet on us too. Shouldn’t he–”

“This isn’t up for negotiation.”

“Fine. I won’t accept any more bribes from them.”

“Good. I think we’re finished here.”

Sighs of relief escape all three. 

“Oh, and–” He pauses just to watch how all three of them tense up in anticipation of whatever horror he’s cooked up for them. The corner of his mouth threatens to twitch upwards, though he refuses to let it even twitch slightly. “Who’s to say your Uncle Billy is going unpunished? Really, I thought your godfather would set a better example for you three.”

Just like that, he leaves, not saying another word. The room he leaves behind is full of whispers. 

Somewhere across town, a bellow rings out. “Slade!”

Chapter Text

In hindsight, the decision to follow her brothers up the roof seemed poor. How was Medea supposed to know? It wasn’t like she was a clairvoyant.

Getting up was easy, especially when her brothers could give her a boost up. But, getting across….well, that was another story. 

The gap between the garage and their house was quite a bit. At least for someone of her height. 

“Are you coming or not?” asks Grant impatiently. 

Medea looked up to see her brothers waiting for her to jump over. “How?”

“Just jump.”

Joey nodded. “Careful on the climb up once you jump over, I think a tile or two is loose there,” he signs, “you’ll be fine though.”

Medea sent an incredulous glance at her brothers. They weren’t serious, were they? But all they did was stare blankly back at her. Oh, it seemed like they were. “How?” she says, gesturing to herself.

They exchange a look and Medea can just about pinpoint the moment that they both realize her height made it impossible for her to do the same as them. She watched as they exchanged a flurry of gestures, trying to figure out how to get her across. 

“Yes, because possessing her body is clearly the best choice here,” signs Joey exasperatedly. 

A heavy sigh escapes Grant. “Fine, I’ll do it.” In the next moment, Grant makes his way back to the garage. “Okay, try not to move around that much.”

She squawked in protest as she picked up unceremoniously. “Grant!” 

“No moving, Medi. We don’t want to drop you, hmm?” Though that doesn’t stop her yelp when they slip slightly as they land. “Take my hearing too, will you?” he grumbled as he put her on the roof of the house.  

“Joey, that was a terrible idea,” she says with a frown. “Why’d you make him do it?”

Joey rolled his eyes. “In what world did possession sound like the more sane option?”

“This one,” chorused Grant and Medea. 

He threw up his hands in exasperation. “You’re lucky that Medi is cute. Otherwise, I’d throw you off the roof for that.”

They shrugged. 

It turns out getting up was a lot easier than getting down. 

They’d been up on the roof for hours. At first, the three had left each other to their own devices. Joey on his sketchbook, Medea and Grant reading their separate books. But as time passed, they slowly drifted toward each other.

By now, Joey had abandoned his sketchbook in favour of playing on the game system that Grant had brought with him. Medea had done the same with her book and had joined Grant in giving Joey advice on the level he’d been stuck on.

“Left, left,” urged Medea as his figure’s HP steadily decreased. “Go left. No– wait, your other left.”

Grant sighed as Joey’s player took on another attack head-on. “Joey, no, duck–”

All three groaned as the dreaded words appeared on the scream. Better luck next time…

The bright colours seemed to mock their failure.

“I told you so,” complains Grant.

“How am I supposed to focus if the two of you keep jabbering in my ear?” signs Joey. “It’s like you two are trying to distract me.”

It was only then that they noticed how late it was. The sun was in the process of setting and the warmth they had enjoyed earlier was now replaced with a cool breeze. 

“It’s probably easier to carry you back.” Grant held out a hand. “It’s getting pretty dark and I don’t think you should try that by yourself.”

“Nope.” For good measure, she scooched further away from him. 

“Don’t be ridiculous. What are you going to do? Stay on the roof forever?”

“Yes.”

Joey shook his head in amusement. “Okay, okay. New plan,” he signed. “How about we go down first? Maybe we can get you a ladder.”

She nodded after a moment’s pause. 

“Hang tight, Medi. We’ll get you down soon.” Grant’s voice wafted up from somewhere. 

“Not like I can go anywhere else,” she yells back.

And so it begins. 

She waits and waits, and listens as Grant bickers with Joey. Because neither of them can find a tall enough ladder. There is a stepstool, and as Grant oh-so-helpfully puts it, is absolute garbage and broken. 

By now, she can already see the moon rising and Medea shivers as a cold breeze wafts by. 

Despondently, she watches as a familiar car pulls into their garage. She wondered if her dad would spot her up here. Maybe he could help. She watched as he left the garage, en route to their home. 

And he does spot her. Just not in the way she expects. “Hi Dad.” 

Slade barely glances her way, he’s preoccupied with texting on his phone. “Hi, Princess. Don’t stay out too long, it’s getting cold and dinner is in twenty.”

Medea watched incredulously as he went into the house. She sat in silence, waiting a few minutes to see if he would realize that she was on the roof alone.

“Dad!?” she tries again, trying to infuse some urgency into her voice. 

“Yes?” His voice comes from somewhere inside the house. “What is it?”

“I’m stuck, I can’t get down.”

There’s a pause before she hears his steps approach, each one more urgent than the previous. This time, he walks out their back door. “Princess?” It’s gotten darker now, and she can only see the outline of his figure standing there as he turns to see her sitting there. “Wait…are you on the roof?”

“Yes,” she says slowly. 

“Do I want to know how you got up there?”

“No?”

“That sounded like a question.”

Medea quickly amended her answer. “No. It’s on a need-to-know basis,” she quotes, thinking back to the many times he’d said the same to her. 

“Oh? And you don’t think this qualifies?”

“But Dad… it’s cold.”

He didn’t say a thing in response, but within moments, he joined her on the roof. 

It was unfair how easily he got up. 

Like her brothers, he hadn’t needed anyone to boost them up. Though he hadn’t even needed to manoeuvre it as much as Grant or Joey had needed to. 

It seemed that everyone in her family was unnecessarily tall. And Medea hated being a midget in comparison.  

When was it her turn? 

“What have we said about climbing the roof?” There was the sound of unzipping and in the next moment, Medea found his jacket draped around her. “Alone too. In the dark?”

Instantly, she wrapped it around herself tighter. It was warm and it carried a scent that was distinctively him. “It’s not my fault they’re taking so long.”

“Of course.” Though Medea didn’t need to see to hear the teasing tone in his voice. “Let’s head back?” He offered a hand out to her. 

“You won’t drop me, will you?” she asked mulishly.

“Never.” He held back the laugh as she stared up at him, only grinning when she placed her hand in his. Easily, he picked her up and with one arm, he held her tight as he jumped back down. 

“Dad!” She tightened her hold on him, shrieking at the sudden movement. 

This time, he didn’t hold back his laugh.

Eventually, Slade gets the whole story from Medea. Absent-mindedly, he wondered if he should say something to his sons, but maybe they’d realize soon. Last he checked, they looked hard at work in the garage.

After all, there was a reason that he set rules of what they could and they couldn’t do with their sister. 

Besides, he had other things to do. Like making dinner. 

While he’s doing that, Medea’s already set the table. She didn’t seem inclined to look for her brothers either, so Slade didn’t say a thing. Instead, she had her nose buried deep in a book. 

He’s about halfway done with the dishes when Grant and Joey appear from the back door. 

“Hey, Pops…umm…totally random question, where do we keep the ladders?” asks Grant, looking frazzled. 

“Billy borrowed them all. Why?” Slade wondered what their reason would be. 

“What if we left something on the roof? Accidentally of course,” says Grant hastily. 

“Then I’d say go get it.”

“What if I couldn’t get it down myself?”

“I suppose I could help. Depending on what it was.”

Grant shifted uncomfortably on the spot. “What if…” 

“Hypothetically,” signs Joey. “Let’s say, we…”

He raised an eyebrow at them. “Yes?”

The two exchanged a glance before Joey signed, “...what if we left someone up there?”

“Oh? And who would that be?” 

Gritting his teeth, Grant admitted, “Medea.”

Slade watched as his sons looked increasingly nervous as he didn’t say a word. He won’t lie but he does enjoy watching how squeamish they looked. In the end, he settled for, “How peculiar.” 

“What?” Both his sons looked confused at his statement. “What is that supposed to mean?” demands Grant.

He shifted slightly, and he watched as they noticed Medea who was still reading at the dining room table. 

“Medi!”

She glanced up. “What?”

“Why didn’t you tell us–”

“Before we get into semantics–” interrupts Slade, looking at all three of the children. “–let’s talk about a more important point. I left the three of you alone for a few hours. Grant, you’re the eldest, you were in charge.”

“In my defence, I was left unsupervised.”

He looked at Joey wearily, half dreading his response. Slade knows for a fact that he’s going to be disappointed too.  

And he’s right. “In my defence, I was also left unsupervised,” signs Joey, face full of innocence. He’d believe it if he didn’t know Joey. That mask only worked on strangers. 

Tiredly, he looks to Medea, who shrugs in response. She looked more interested in getting back to her book. “Next time, just because your brothers can doesn’t mean you should.”

“But…but Dad, I was the one who was supposed to be supervised.”

A heavy sigh escapes him. Why had he expected something different? The three were siblings after all.

Things seem to work. Even if their father had revealed himself as a mercenary. Their family dynamic hadn’t changed too much. 

Still, some things had changed. Some for the better. For one, there were fewer secrets now about work. Though knowing that he was going on a job didn’t ease their worries, it didn’t change that his profession was full of danger. 

And they became a lot more aware of why he had certain rules about things. What they had regarded as paranoia or eccentric made a lot more sense when you took into account the dangers that never disappeared around him. Around them. 

As his children, they were at a risk too. But never a burden, a point that Slade made sure to emphasize. Never a burden to him. 

It’s just a regular Saturday, when the doorbell rings, interrupting the three from their animated conversation. 

At that, the three of them exchanged a curious glance, conversation instantly shelved for later. They weren’t expecting any visitors today. Uncle Billy never bothered with such, not when he had a key. 

“But, Grant–” protests Medea. From beside her, Joey looked like he wanted to protest too. 

“Stay out of sight,” he signs, knowing this is the best he can get them to promise. “Not unless I say otherwise.”

Carefully, he made his way toward the door, ignoring how his siblings had snuck after him, careful to keep out of sight. 

Grant peeked into the keyhole and his eyes widened in surprise. There, at the door, was Lady Shiva. Although he knew that this was Medea’s mother, he didn’t know what she wanted. 

Hell, the woman had been absent for most, if not all of Medea’s life.

Why was she showing here out of the blue?

Why now?

She wouldn’t forcibly take Medea away from them, would she?

Still, he opened the door because he didn’t doubt for a second that she knew there were people inside. 

“Hello.” Grant left the door open slightly, creating some distance between them. One hand rested out of sight, behind the wall. Using that hand, he taps the air in their code, “Stay.” Then after a moment, “Mother,” is the next word he taps. “Can I help you?” he directed to her. 

He’s sure that Medea and Joey will know who he’s not referring to Adeline. Even though their interactions are few and limited, Medea can recognize his mother’s voice. 

“Hello, is…” The woman trailed off, taking in his appearance. “...is your father home?”

“I’m afraid not. Can I take a message?” he inquired politely. 

“Is there anyone else that I could…” In the end, Lady Shiva trailed off and didn’t continue. She stared at a spot somewhere behind him. 

Shit! Had the rest of them been spotted? And just as Grant wonders what the proper protocol for this should be, the sound of footsteps grew louder before stopping right beside him. 

Joey stood beside him, faking a look of surprise before waving hello to her. “Sorry, it’s just the two of us.”

Her gaze flickered between the two before she composed herself. “I see. Thank you for the offer, but I think I shall come by a different day instead.” She nodded in goodbye. “Have a good day.”

They watched as Lady Shiva got into her car, driving out of sight. 

It’s only when they can’t see her car that he closes the front door and turns to his brother, annoyance bleeding into his expression. “Joey, I told you to–”

Joey rolled his eyes, using his powers to communicate. ‘ Medi said she didn’t want to see her today. So I merely passed along the message.’ The ‘duh’ was left unsaid, but they both knew it was there. 

Grant sputtered at that, yet went along, not voicing his thoughts out loud. ‘ You used your powers? I’m sorry you revealed your powers to her?’

‘Don’t be ridiculous. I didn’t do that.’ 

‘Sure.’  The doubt was clear to both.

Slade isn’t exactly surprised when he learns of Shiva’s visit, he’s been expecting this day to happen eventually. But what he is surprised about is Medea's reaction. He’d have thought she would be more open to meeting her mother. Though he supposed it is a complicated situation for all of them. 

So he doesn’t raise an eyebrow when Shiva appears on his doorstep a few days later. 

“You look well,” he says conversationally. “Heard you were looking for me?”

The corner of her mouth twitches slightly. “I was, yes. You know, your eldest is very much like you.”

“He takes after his mother, I’m told.”

“In his mannerisms,” adds Shiva with a wry smile. “Very cautious. Not a bad thing. Your other son is similar, but he looks more like you.”

“Why don’t we get to the point?”

“We should skip the pleasantries, yes,” she agrees. “But perhaps…” in private.

He gestured for her to come in. 

There are many ways this situation could go. As he closed the door behind Shiva, he wondered how this would pan out. 

Later, he’d have mused that things could have gotten a lot better. But they also could have gotten a lot worse. 

Flashlight in hand, Medea opened it, peering into the closet. Within it, lay clothes of all sorts. 

No, this one wasn’t grand enough either. 

Annoyed, she went out of her room and wandered the halls, wondering which one she should try next. She stopped to think before coming to a decision. Peeking into her dad’s study, she noted it was empty and she snuck a peek at the wooden armoire. 

It was grander than her closet. Or her brothers. 

This would do. 

Opening the doors, she carefully shifted things around, until there was enough space for her to sit comfortably on the bottom. Medea was about to sit in when she realized something was missing. Leaving her stuff behind, she dashed into her dad’s room and returned with his jacket in hand. 

There. 

That was better. With his jacket wrapped around her, Medea sat down, closing one door to the wardrobe and leaving the other open slightly. With a click, the flashlight was turned on and expertly positioned. 

Now, this was the best atmosphere for reading. 

Satisfied, she flipped open her book, taking out the bookmark and began. “She did not shut it properly because she knew that it is very silly to shut oneself into a wardrobe, even if it is not a magic one.”

“She’s my daughter.”

“She’s mine too,” says Slade plainly. Frankly, he was tired of this conversation. It was not going as smoothly as he hoped. 

They had been going at it for ages. Though in their defence, it’s not like either of them had gone into any detail of what Medea’s future would look like.

It’s just that they have differing views.

Views that contradict each other. Their tempers are fraying too. It doesn’t help that both of them are stubbornly set in their beliefs. 

“Look, let’s move this into the study,” he says, getting up from the seat. “As much as I'd like to continue this, I’d rather Medea’s first-hand view of you in years isn't of us going at each other’s throats.”

She nodded, gracefully getting up to follow. “You’ve had her for years,” points out Shiva, as they make their way to his study. “It’s–”

“Because you let me raise her. And I was under the impression that you didn’t want her.”

“Whatever gave that impression? You know what the circumstances were like.” She closed the door to the study behind her. 

“The circumstances? Is that what we are calling it now?” If he hadn’t been so focused on her, he would have thought more into why the wooden armoire on the side of the room had one of its doors open. “I’ll give you that our professions make our personal life messy, but really? It took nine years to decide that? This is the first time that you’re asking about her. We’ve seen each other numerous times since then.”

“Numerous?” says Shiva sarcastically. “I’m not sure I’d count nodding in greeting from across the room as one. At times, your logic is astounding.”

“As is yours, sweetheart .” 

“Besides, you’re one to talk. You didn’t let me keep in contact, keeping my daughter away for that long. The only glances I got were from far away. Tell me what parent makes the other do such?”

He frowned. “Well, forgive me for not knowing that I had to remind you to visit. I never forbid you from it. You know that just as well as I.”

She scoffed. “Yes, yes. Because it was that clear. When you move across the country, practically scrubbing your identities off the face of the earth.”

“Now you’re just–”

“Would you deprive her of the opportunity to meet her mother? Why don’t we ask her and see what she decides?”

“She’s not old enough to make a decision like this. She’s nine , Sandra,” he emphasizes. “And your idea of getting to know her is what, training her as your successor?”

Shiva ignored his question. “Nine is plenty old to make decisions.” 

“You’re not denying my words.” Then his eye narrows. “Are you serious? I’m not giving her up for you to do that.”

“Oh, don’t be so dramatic. It would be nothing inappropriate for her age. You have trained her, haven’t you?”

“Nothing to that extent.”

“And why not?” she asks, arching an eyebrow at him. “Well, one of us has to at the very least. Besides, I never said that I would be taking her away from you permanently.”

“Well, you never said anything to dissuade that idea either.”

The idea of sharing custody with Shiva is comical, he might even have cracked a joke. But in these circumstances, his temper snaps.

 “Medea isn’t an object for you to play with, sweetheart . This is Medea, not a doll. She isn’t being raised to take over either of our titles. I’m not dragging her into this lifestyle, not before she truly understands what she’s getting into.”

“You forget that she’s also mine, you don’t have the final say,” says Shiva.

“You can meet her, but if you think for one second that I’ll let you train her to learn how to kill, I will end you.”

A sharp smile appeared on her face. “I’d like to see you try.”

The two are arguing, too angry, too heated to pay attention to the pair of wide eyes in the closet. 

“No. For the last time, I’m not. No, we’re not bringing her into this life.”

“You can speak for yourself, but not for me.”

In the wardrobe, Medea lets out a gasp at the scene. Particularly when both adults are moments away from breaking each other’s bones. 

She wants to stop being able to read their body movements, she doesn’t want to see how determined each one is to hurt the other.

Turn it off! Turn it off! Turn it off!

And it’s a moment too late that she realizes she made a mistake. Her hands quickly clamp over her mouth. 

Both adults paused in their argument to glance in her direction. A realization of some sort clicks in them and they try to beat the other to the closet. 

The woman moves quicker. In one swift motion, she swings the wardrobe door open and stares. At Medea who’s swallowed up by her dad’s jacket. 

What the woman doesn’t expect is for her to run out. Medea dodges the hand and runs for him, hiding behind Slade.

Slade muttered darkly in Russian, something that she wasn’t allowed to repeat while the woman looked on in shock. 

When it was clear that nobody was planning to say anything, Medea decided to take matters into her own hands. She took a small step out, leaving the safety that her dad offered behind. “You’re my mother?” asks Medea, tilting her head slightly to observe the woman in front of her. Mother, the word felt almost foreign to in her mouth. 

“Yes.” She didn’t seem to react too much to the title, though she seemed conflicted. For what reason, Medea couldn’t guess. 

“Dad?” Medea turns to him. 

He nodded.

“Tell me, do you know of your father’s true profession?”

“Yes.”

The woman seemed pleased to learn of such. “And why not, then?” she poses to her Dad. 

“I’m not in the market for child soldiers.”

As her parents continued talking, thinly veiling their real intentions, Medea focused on the woman. She looked eerily familiar, almost like the woman she’d seen from far away in public a few times. 

And unlike with her dad, it was much easier to see the familial resemblance between her mother and her. Oftentimes, finding the physical traits she shared with her dad was a lot harder. It was easier to see the resemblance to Dad in her brothers, even if Grant took after his mother in appearance a lot more. 

“You’ve heard most of our conversation then.” 

Medea blinked as she realized the attention had switched back to her. “A little,” she hedged. “Not much.”

“Or just the right amount,” amended Lady Shiva. “What would you decide?”

“Really?” Her dad sounded so defeated. Though he didn’t forbid her from answering. 

Medea looked between them, unsure what to say. “I…I”

Time seemed to slow to a stop as her parents waited for her answer. 

She didn’t want to choose between either of them. As much as the small part of her wanted to get to know her mother better, she didn’t want to leave her dad behind. 

How–

Who should–

The spell was broken as the roar of a motorcycle came from outside the house. Whatever trance it had on them was no longer there, as Medea came to a hasty conclusion. Without a word, she fled from the room, neither adult stopping her. 

She fled down the stairs and crashed into Grant as he was entering the front door. 

“Medi? What’s wrong?”

Her mouth opened and she blurted out the first thing that came into mind. “I don’t want to leave you guys.”

They watched as Medea and his eldest walked out the driveway, neither making a move to retrieve her. If anything, they were still trying to process her answer. 

Though Slade wasn’t sure what he had expected as her answer. 

As if gloating, Shiva noted, “She didn’t say no.”

“She didn’t say yes either,” he says acidly. Interestingly enough, that was enough to break her smugness. From her small tells, Slade could read the disappointment from her. 

Her gaze turned to him and she seemed tense as if expecting him to gloat over it. 

“What?” he asks after a moment.

“Nothing,” she says, shaking her head minutely. “Nothing. Just…”

Disappointed, guessed Slade. Disappointed that Medea hadn’t wanted anything to do with her. Deep down, he wasn’t sure how he felt about it either. Because Medea hadn’t said anything about wanting to stay either. A small part of him wondered how he would cope with it, had she said those words. And whether he would have actually let her go.

As the silence between them stretched awkwardly, he turned his gaze to the window. “Do you blame her for how she reacted?”

“Not her.”

“I…I think we forgot…” At Shiva’s look to continue, he did. “We forgot that she’s still a child. Seeing us duke it out in front of her, she was never going to…” He trailed off before abruptly switching gears. “I want the truth this time. Why now?” Slade turned back to glance at Shiva.

“...back then…things were different then.” Their gaze met for a second before Shiva turned to look past him. “I could spin you a million truths, but in the end, your opinion isn’t the one that matters.” 

Because at the end of the day, Medea was all that mattered, was left unsaid. A sentiment that Slade could agree with. 

“Do you think I’ve lost my chance?” Forever? Her gaze flickered to him and he’s reminded of just how similar mother and daughter are. 

“No. I don't think so.” He hesitates before adding, “Things could still change.” 

“Can it?”

“If you’re willing to work for it.” Slade pulled out his phone, scrolling to find a specific email. When he had finally located it, he forwarded the message with a few taps. 

Shiva raised an eyebrow at his actions and tilted her head slightly when her phone chimed. 

“There’s a performance soon. She’s in it. Come if you want.”

“I see.” She checked her phone and slipped it back into her pocket. “But why are you doing this?”

“She should get a chance to get to know you. And the same goes for you.”

“And what if that means she eventually decides to follow in my–our footsteps?”

“Do you really think I could stop her? Either of us?”

Shiva seemed to soften at that. “No, I suppose not. She’s got your stubbornness after all. And it was your eyes that caused me so much trouble with her.”

That seemed to draw a small chuckle from him. “My stubbornness? I’m more than sure it’s yours that she’s inherited. Don’t get me started on your mannerisms that she’s inherited. I’m sure my eyes are the least of your troubles.”

The two shared a wry look and couldn’t help but laugh. 

Their daughter was going to grow up to be a force to be reckoned with. Though that didn’t mean Medea wasn’t already one.

Chapter Text

Shiva wrinkled her nose at the spectacle. 

It was absurd how boisterous some of the people milling about the parking lot were. 

This much for a children’s event? One would have thought that this was the Olympics or something. 

She wonders how Wilson could stand this. He was never one for such. 

He hadn’t been one for such , she corrects in her mind. Years had passed, and maybe he’d changed. 

Or maybe he didn’t, and he only tolerated it for Medea. 

At the name, she remembered her reason for appearing. 

For her daughter. 

Shiva glanced down at her phone again, then at the doors. There was still time to change her mind if she wanted to. 

But, did she really want to leave?

Her Medea had long grown up from that toddler. Did she still have a chance?

The longer she stood there, the more her mind wandered to darker outcomes. 

Mentally, she shook her head free of the intrusive thoughts and made up her mind.

No, this was the right choice.

Slade didn’t move a muscle when Shiva slid into a seat beside him. 

“You should have told me that this was quite the event,” she says in lieu of a greeting. Though Slade hears what she’s really trying to say – did you give me the wrong time? 

“You’re early. It doesn’t start for quite a bit. In fact–” He checked his watch. “–I’d say that you were ridiculously early. Don’t the doors open at 11 am for the spectators?”

Shiva raised an eyebrow. “I was under the impression that the parents were allowed in earlier.”

“Touché.”

“Besides.” A wry smile appeared. “Who would stop me?”

He couldn’t help the corner of his mouth from twitching upwards. The thought of someone stopping Shiva from entering was ridiculous. “Who indeed?”

“So…” she trailed off, gesturing to the crowd of people who were milling about. 

“Washroom.”

A slightly awkward silence settled among them as they waited for Medea to return. In that time, Slade scanned the surroundings – for threats, out of habit, really – noting the annoying Patricia and silently thanking God that the woman hadn’t noticed him yet. 

But all in all, it was like usual. Children of all ages were milling about, some were being wrangled by their parents into fixing their hair or such. Others were simply waiting for the event to simply start. 

Eventually, he caught sight of Medea, who was skillfully manoeuvring her way through the crowd. “Dad, dad, you won’t believ–” Her voice died out as she took in the other person sitting beside him. Her eyes widened in disbelief.

“Hello,” says Shiva, extending the metaphorical olive branch. 

“Oh. Umm…are you here to watch?” It was impossible for them to miss the hopeful tone in her voice. 

Shiva nodded. 

Medea snuck a peek at him curiously, and he gave an encouraging nod. Though she tried to act nonchalant about it, it was clear to both that Shiva’s appearance was welcome. “Cool.”

“Why don’t you tell her about your program?” suggests Slade, when it seemed that neither mother nor daughter knew what to say next. “I’m sure you can explain it better than I can.”

“Um…oh. Sure.” She glanced up at Shiva. “Do you really want to know?” At Shiva’s gesture to continue, Medea began to explain. As it went on, she began to become more animated as she described her program, her eyes seemed to light up as Shiva listened to her, even posing questions of her own. 

Slade was half-listening as he helped her tighten her laces, he’d heard this spiel far too many times this past week. Though he couldn’t begrudge her this, it was her first competition within the club. 

“Thanks, Dad! Bye!” she says, waving excitedly. 

They watched as Medea disappeared among the crowd to join the rest of the kids. 

“How long has she…” Shiva waved a hand to gesture at the other skaters.

“Been interested in figure skating? After the Olympics a few years back.”

She made a contemplative sound as she surveyed the skaters on the ice. “She said this is her first competition?”

“Her first,” he agreed. “But not for lack of trying. It still took a bit of persuasion to get them to let her compete this time around.”

“Oh?” Shiva turned to look at him, intrigued. “Is it…”

“Medea is a fast learner. No thanks to you,” says Slade wryly. He confirms her unspoken question, their daughter had certainly inherited her ability, but whether he contributed to it remains to be seen. 

“I’d expect nothing less from my daughter.” Though Slade could see the glimmer of pride underneath her haughty expression. 

“They were worried she wouldn’t be ready, not with how she’d recently skipped another level.”

The conversation dissolved into silence once more, though this time it was much less awkward as they sat beside each other. 

Amid the silence, Slade couldn’t help the frown that crossed his face when he noticed a particular parent heading their way. Patricia. 

Why was the world so cruel to him? Why did it have to vex him so with her existence?

“You look disgruntled. Since when have you been so open with your emotions?” notes Shiva. 

“Everyone is open with their emotions if they aren’t you,” he retorted. “Besides, I’m not working right now.”

A half-smile appeared on her face. “Fair, I suppose.”

“You’d feel the same if you had to deal with her regularly.”

“Don’t be so dramatic.”

Those are some famous last words from Shiva. Slade bit back a chuckle as he witnessed her first interaction with Patricia. 

The moment the woman was out of earshot, Shiva turned to him, annoyance written all over her face. “You mean to tell me you deal with her–” The distaste was clear. “–weekly?”

“Sometimes, it’s biweekly,” he says to her horror.

“And she’s still alive.”

“Sweetheart,” he drawled, “I don’t think our daughter would appreciate it.”

She made a flippant hand gesture. “I think she’d appreciate it in time. With how they are, I have no doubt their progeny is any better.”

Slade made a sound, neither confirming nor denying her words.

“Well, are they?”

“They?” At Shiva’s look, he huffed. “Yes.”

“Then I’m sure that she’ll appreciate the favour.”

“Of course she will,” he deadpans.

It’s ridiculous, but their mutual dislike of Patricia is what brings them into small talk as they wait for Medea to appear on the ice. 

By small talk, Slade means that they were discussing murder attempts on a particular parent.

“You know,” she says conversationally, “I think you’re on the right track, but number twenty-four is too messy.” Her nose wrinkled at the thought. “Men.”

“As if yours was much better. What do you propose then?”

“Number fifteen. But with some modifications.”

“Oh? Do tell.” 

Eventually, Medea does finally appear on the ice. 

She’s worked so hard for this and it pays off. Not only does she nail the jump, but she’s also finally gotten the landing to stick, smoothly continuing into the next figure. Slade has never been prouder of her. 

“She’s a natural.”

He sighed, guessing where Shiva’s thoughts had wandered to. “Sandra, she’s a child. This is a hobby, we are not pushing her into the Olympics.”

“I never said such a thing.”

“Your look said otherwise.”

“Shush, I’m trying to focus.”

Slade grumbled under his breath but did as demanded. He also pulled out his phone, recording Medea as his sons had all but demanded earlier that they send him a video as they couldn’t come today. 

The things he did for them.

Maybe Slade was biased because this was his daughter that was competing, but he still thought that the results were fishy. 

There was no way that she scored that low. 

It wasn’t to say that he demanded her to win first place, he wasn’t expecting that. But he didn’t think that it made sense that she scored lower than the kid that fell four times. And coincidentally was maybe Patricia’s child.

“Fourth place?” He tried to ignore how smug Patricia looked, and the gloating look she sent their way.

“She could have very well gotten third,” grumbled Shiva. “Just what kind of club did you sign her up for?”

“I’ll have you know this was the best one in the city.”

“Clearly not, if their standards are so…” she waved a hand at the ceremony taking place in front of their face. 

Though to their pleasant surprise, the ceremony is interrupted when the MC announces a mistake in placement. There had been a mixup in names and as they corrected their mistake, the corner of Shiva’s mouth curled upwards.

This time, it’s their turn to be smug. Of course, they don’t rub it in anyone’s faces, they’ve got more class than that. But they aren’t making an effort to disguise their emotions either. 

Why should they? 

Their daughter did just win a medal after all. 

It was merely a bonus that she beat out Patricia’s kid. 

As Medea bounded over to them, they couldn’t help but share in her excitement. “Did you see? Did you see?”

“Of course, I did.” He wrapped his arms around her as she hugged him tightly. “Congratulations, Princess. I even got it on video for them.”

As she left his hug, she glanced carefully at Shiva. Nervousness started to creep into her posture. 

Thankfully, Shiva is quick to say something. “You did well.”

“You really think so?” she blurts out. “But I didn’t– I mean, thank you.” 

“Your father and I were discussing this earlier…” Shiva paused, unsure how to continue when she noticed how Medea’s nervousness had come back in full force. 

The awkwardness was unbearable and Slade sighed inwardly. “Do you feel up to going to Solstice? To celebrate your first win?” 

“All of us?” asks Medea carefully.

“All of us.”

“I…I wouldn’t mind.”

The café, Solstice, was packed as usual. It seemed like the whole city had the same idea as them to visit the café. 

Dad lets her order the hot chocolate, even if he tried hard to hide his disapproval of how sweet it was. Anytime they’d come here, he always complained that her teeth would one day rot from how much sugar was in the drink. 

Besides, it’s not like Dad’s drink was that much better. He’d ordered it because he thought the name was hilarious. Bulletproof coffee. Medea didn’t think it sounded that great though– coffee with butter didn’t sound that appealing to her.

And the look on Shiva’s face told Medea that she thought it sounded questionable too. She chooses something more normal. A mocha.

It’s only pure luck that the three of them were able to find an empty table once they’d got their orders. 

“What exactly is bulletproof coffee?” asks Shiva, looking at it warily. 

“A caffeinated beverage.”

She shot Dad a look. “I see your sense of humour hasn’t changed at all.” 

He shrugged. 

Taking a sip from her drink, Medea quietly wondered how Shiva did it. Her mother seemed to do everything so gracefully. Even drinking from a cup. There was a small mountain of whip cream on her mocha, yet none of it ended up on her.

It was like getting dirty was beneath her. Which it probably was.

“And how is your drink?”

Medea froze at the question posed, staring at her mother dumbfounded. 

“Princess?” prompts Slade.

“...good. Yeah, it’s good.” 

He raised an eyebrow but didn’t say anything else.

Medea didn't know what else to say. It’s clear that her mother is trying to start a conversation with her, but Medea's mind draws a blank on what to say. It's how she ends up saying the first thing that comes to mind. “Do you want to try?”

A flash of surprise appears on her face though it quickly disappears. Shiva took a small sip from hers. 

“What do you think?”

“It’s sweet,” she says carefully. “But I like it. Are you a fan of sweet things?” At Medea’s nod, she continues, “I think you’d enjoy the hot chocolate in Zurich. It’s a small café and a long way to go, but worth every sip.”

“That good?”

“That good,” she agreed. “It’s something that everyone should get the chance to try.”

Medea shot a glance at her dad. 

Slade sighed heavily, but it wasn’t one of irritation, rather it was one of resignation. “Look what you’ve done, she’s going to beg to go to Switzerland now.”

“If you won’t take her, then I will,” shot back Shiva. There was no malice in her words though, rather it seemed playful.

“Travelling with you is something that I’m not subjecting her to. One word. Marrakesh.”

“It was perfectly fine. It would have been better if you hadn’t meddled in matters that didn’t concern you.”

He snorted, drawing Mother’s ire. “You and I seem to remember Marrakesh very differently.”

Medea looked between the two curiously. 

Shiva pursed her lips. “And how do you remember it?”

“Well…” He turns to Medea, winking conspiratorially. “Let’s just say your mother is forgetful.”

“Like you’re one to talk.”

Soon enough, her parents had entranced her with tales of their travels. Some of which they had gone on together, and others they’d gone on by themselves.

Of course, Medea isn’t so naive as to believe that sightseeing was all that her parents did as they went around the world, but she didn’t care. Rather she basked in the moment, being able to share it with both of them at once.

Mother was pausing in the middle of a story when Dad let her try a sip of his drink. It was better than Medea expected. 

“It’s still too bitter, Dad,” she complains, scrunching her nose at the taste. “Did you even add sugar?”

“Truly your mother’s daughter,” says Slade, giving her mother a look.

“Your taste is horrendous at times,” says Shiva to Medea’s smugness. 

“See? You’re the odd one out,” she tells Dad.

“Princess?” he says with a faux gasp. “Betraying me? Like that?”

She couldn’t help the grin from appearing. 

In the cafe, time almost seems to be a foreign concept. Medea only realizes this when Slade gets up to get a refill. Glancing at the window, she noted that the sky had darkened considerably since their arrival. 

Had it been hours already?

She returned her glance to Shiva, who was savouring her own drink. Catching her glance, her mother tilts her head quizzically at her. “Yes?”

Medea quickly looked down at her drink. 

“Did you…” trails off Shiva, “...ask away, Medea.”

Her head shot up to stare at her mother dumbfoundedly. How did she know? Then it hit her like a truck. Right. Oops. “Anything?”

“Anything within reason,” she amended.

Medea paused to ponder the offer. Anything. There are too many questions that she wants to ask, but there’s only so much that she can ask before her dad returns. It took her a moment, but she narrowed down her topic. “Will…will this be a one-time thing?” 

“Do you want it to be?” counters her mother. And although Medea tried to read her mother’s tells, it was near impossible. 

After a moment, she shook her head when it was clear Shiva was waiting for a response. 

“Then no, it won’t be.”

“I…you’re alright, but I also don’t want to leave Dad,” she admits.

“I won’t ask you to.” A wistful look appeared on Shiva’s face. “I know you. You’re very much like him sometimes.” But as quickly as the emotion appeared, it quickly disappeared. “You can ask that question if you’d like.”

“Really?” At her nod, Medea hesitantly asks the question that’s been pestering her for a very long time. “Why did you leave me with Dad for so long? I know that you were the one to give me to him.”

“It was for the best. And seeing you now only proves my decision correct.”

She frowned. Her mom was a bizarre person, her answers were confusing sometimes. Right now, she was telling the truth and also not. 

Still, her mother doesn’t say anything else. 

So Medea took the initiative to ask a question or two. “The best for who? For you or me?”

She smiled enigmatically. “You are still young. One day, you’ll understand.” She must notice her confusion as her mother adds, “Don’t think too much of it, you have plenty of time to grow. You don’t want to rush things.”

“That’s what Dad always says.”

“Your father and I don’t always see eye to eye, but that is something I can agree with.” 

A silence settled among them, unsure what to do, Medea glanced to the side, wondering where her dad was. He was taking his time with his coffee. 

Following her gaze, Shiva noticed how she had sought him out. “I don’t regret it. Not if you are happy with him. And them.”

Her mother had murmured something so quietly that Medea missed it. “What?” She turned to look at Shiva, whose hand was part way toward her hair. Almost like she was unsure if she should touch it.  

“I don’t mind.” The words slipped out easily, and in the next moment, Medea felt a warm weight ruffle her hair. 

“Did you want anything else to drink?” 

“No, I’m alright.” 

Slade snuck a glance at the table, he felt the corners of his mouth twitch slightly when he saw that mother and daughter seemed to be getting along just fine. 

The atmosphere between the two was still slightly awkward, but it was comforting to see that Medea was relaxed enough around Shiva. 

“A flat white for…for Slade?”

Hearing his name called, he turned his attention back to the counter. Once he’d collected his drink, he started heading back toward their table.

In the short period that he’d turned his attention away from the duo, he found Shiva fixing Medea’s hair. The bun her hair had been in originally had been taken down and was in the process of being converted into a braid.

“Now this is the ultimate betrayal,” drawls Slade. “First the coffee, now the hair?”

A snort slipped out from Shiva. “Dramatic as ever, Wilson."

"Pot, meet kettle." 

"Tell your father that he’s being ridiculous.”

Slade glanced at Medea who didn’t disappoint. “Yeah, Dad, you’re being silly again.”

Ouch. 

“Jealousy doesn’t suit you, Wilson.”

“Who said I was jealous?” he retorted as he sat back down. Instead, he nursed his coffee as he watched Shiva braid the rest of Medea's hair. 

He finds himself content to sit back and watch from the sidelines. 

But eventually, like all good things did, it had to come to an end. Outside the café’s front door, as they bid each other goodbye, Medea turned to Shiva. “I’ll see you again?” 

“Of course,” she promises. “I’ll be back.” Her gaze flickered to him, and she nodded goodbye. 

The walk back to the car wasn’t long, but Medea was quieter than usual and seemed deep in thought. 

“Careful,” he warns. “Puddle.”

She was too out of it, not even acknowledging his words. In the end, it was up to him to make sure she didn’t walk right into it. 

“Medea?” he asks. 

At the sound of his voice, she stumbled, looking up at him with wide eyes. “Huh?”

“How was it?” he asks. “Today’s meeting with her,” he elaborates when she startled at the sound of his voice. 

“It was…” Medea paused to think over her words. “I liked it,” she admits honestly. 

“I’m glad to hear that.”

As Shiva watched the two disappear amongst the crowd, she didn’t try to hide the soft smile from appearing. 

Today had been interesting. 

Dare she say, a success? 

She hoped it wasn’t too early to classify it as such. 

Shiva wouldn't admit it out loud –he'd be too smug about being right– but perhaps...perhaps Wilson was right after all.

She still had a chance with Medea.

Chapter Text

“Dad!”

As Slade looks up from his phone, a blur of colour runs straight for him. He smiles as the blur in his arms reveals itself to be Medea. “Good day at school, I presume?”

“The best.” Her eyes seemed to light up as she talked. “We went to the museum today.”

“Oh? Why don’t you tell me about it?” Even though he already knew this –it’d been the only thing she'd talked about for days – he let Medea ramble on about it in the car ride home. Of the dinosaur exhibits and the various facts that she’d learned. 

And when the conversation starts to die down, he gestures to the package in the backseat beside her. “Right, I should have mentioned it earlier. Your mother left a gift for you.”

She perked up. “Really? What is it?”

“I didn’t look. Why don’t you find out?” 

Soon enough the car was filled with sounds of rustling paper as Medea unwrapped the gift. An awed sound escaped her moments later. “Woah. And I got skate guards to match too!” 

The car ride isn’t even that long, but Medea grows antsier by the second. The instant he pulls into the driveway, she’s out of the car and impatiently waiting for him to unlock the front door. “Come on, hurry up, Dad!”

“Coming, coming.” 

The front door was barely open when she rushed in and up the stairs toward her room. A bang is quick to follow.

“Don’t slam the door,” he calls out half-heartedly. He could hardly begrudge her of this, Shiva and her had just started to have a relationship. With the odd meeting here and there, and the occasional gift. 

A muffled sorry answers him. Though in a few minutes, she’s already bounding down the stairs in another outfit. “Look! What do you think?” She spins excitedly, modelling a purple skating dress for him to see.

“Like a princess,” he says truthfully. 

Once the novelty of a new skating dress has died down, he persuades Medea to change into more comfortable clothing before she goes off to do homework. 

While she was occupied with the intricacies of fractions, he checked his phone to see a new message and he sent off a reply.

‘Don’t be reckless.’ 

Shiva snorted at the last message that had been sent from Wilson. Reckless? He was one to talk. 

Another message popped up. ‘For her sake. She asked about you today.’

‘Tell her not to worry.’ Sent. After a moment’s hesitation, she typed out, ‘Did she like the gift?’ But before she could hit send, Wilson sent another message. 

‘She adored it.’ Seconds later, a photo of Medea in the dress was sent. 

Shiva can’t help the smile from appearing. The dress suited her well. This relationship was still so new and fragile, but it didn’t mean that she disliked it. She hoped things would keep going in this direction.

After Medea had finished battling the monstrosity –her words, not his– that was math, she had wandered around the house before finally settling in the garage while he worked on a car. 

This car restoration was proving trickier than he’d expected. It was challenging but in a pleasant way. 

In the background, the music suddenly cut out and was replaced with the sound of his phone ringing. 

“Medi, can you grab my phone?”

Dutifully, she ran off to grab it. “It’s Uncle Billy.”

He moved out from under the car and groaned. Not again, he didn’t want to take the job. No matter how much Billy tried to make it appealing. “Tell him I’m busy.”

“Should I leave him on speakerphone?”

“Sure.”

“Is there anything I shouldn’t say?”

“Nope.” With that, Medea put the call on speakerphone. 

Confident that she’d get Billy off his back, he’d returned to fixing the car. 

“Slade, for the last time–”

“Hi, Uncle Billy,” chirps Medea.

The confusion is clear in his voice. “Medea? Can you give your phone to your Dad?”

“Oh, he’s busy right now. I can tell him if you want.”

“It’s about work. While I appreciate the offer, I think he’ll kill me if I tell you.”

“Dad wouldn’t kill you. I wouldn’t let him either.” 

The corner of Slade’s mouth twitched as he listened. His daughter was gearing up for something else. That’s for sure.

“Aww thanks, kiddo, that’s real sweet,” says Billy, touched. 

Then she dropped the ball. “Besides, he only threatens to maim you slightly.” 

Ah, there it was. Slade fought to bite back a chuckle.

“...Medea, I–” Billy sputtered at her words. “I don’t think you understand how scary your dad can get. Or what he really means when he says that. But please, I need to speak to him.”

Slade moved from underneath the car to grab a tool, catching Medea’s attention. 

One hand still holding his cell, she signs with her free hand, “Seems urgent.”

Slade rolled his eye and signs, “Ask him how life-threatening it is. Unless we’re in immediate danger, it’s a no.”

“Well, how urgent is it? Dad’s busy.” Medea had adopted a very no-nonsense sort of tone, one that almost reminds him of Shiva. “On a scale of, we could die right now to it could wait another twenty-four hours.”

“Medea. Please.” Exasperation had bled into Billy’s voice.

Poor Billy, thought Slade, even he was no match for his Medea. By this point, he had lowered the car from the jack stands and moved onto the ignition. Currently, he was trying and failing to turn the car on. 

“Uncle Billy,” mimics Medea.

A sigh comes from him. “It’s not life-threatening, none of us are going to die right now.” In a quieter tone, he mutters, “Though your father is going to wish for it soon.”

“What was that?”

“Look kiddo, I really need to talk to him. Wait. Is that a car running in the background? Medea, is he having you lie for him?”

“No.” 

“Then what’s all that noise?”

“I’m watching a show on TV,” she says without missing a beat. “I accidentally left it on while we were talking. Let me turn it off.” At that, she sent him a look and he stopped fiddling with the ignition.

“Uh-huh. And what’s it on?”

“Cars.” Medea sent a pleading look his way. “Very interesting. She’s restoring a…”

“Old dodge challenger,” signs Slade. They were common enough restorations, right?

“An old dodge challenger,” says Medea. 

He continued signing more lines for her to say as his daughter repeated them dutifully.

“Okay.” While Billy sounds placated, he still sounds skeptical. “Medea, are you at home then? I’ll just come by and wait for your Dad to finish whatever he’s off doing.”  

“...yes.” 

Slade shook his head at the same time. 

Seeing that, Medea adds hastily, “But you can’t come over.”

“And why not?”

“Because he’s been stuck in the washroom for ages.” Conspiratorially, she whispers into the phone, “Uncle Billy, I think he’s sick. Like really, really sick.”

From across the room, Slade sent her a raised eyebrow to which she shrugged.

“Kid, I don’t think he’s ever gotten sick. Slade, this is a new low, you know. Getting your daughter to lie for you?”

Still, Medea is determined as ever. “I’ll prove it, Uncle Billy. Just you wait.” 

As she ran out of the garage and into the house, the last thing Slade heard Medea say was, “And how would you know, Uncle Billy? Are you an expert on my dad’s gut health?”

He is equal parts concerned and amused as to what she had come up with. 

When she’s out of earshot, he turns back to the mustang. Now, what to do with you?

It takes about 15 minutes before she returns, phone off, looking very pleased with herself. “It’s been handled.”

“Oh?” 

“Uncle Billy’s convinced that you are now very sick. Some variant of stomach flu. Very contagious.”

“Huh, good job.” He reached out to ruffle her hair then paused, realizing his hands were too grimy for that. 

“So how’s the car?” she asks, putting his phone near his toolbox. 

“I think it’s going to take a lot more work. Can you hand me the wrench in that box?”

“Which one?”

“The large one. And grab that flashlight too.”

Medea stared at the many ‘large’ wrenches in the box then back at her dad. Sometimes she wished that her mother’s ability extended to reading minds. Because she didn’t know which one was large enough. 

Hoping that she picked correctly, she grabbed one randomly and brought the flashlight along. 

“Thanks,” says Slade, holding his hand out as she approaches him. “Ah, this one is too big. Can you get me the smaller one?” 

Rats. Wrong one.

Then her dad inspected the wrench once more. “Actually, never mind. This is a good size.”

Inwardly, she sighed in relief. 

“Do you want to help?” 

She perked up in anticipation and nodded. 

“Alright, let’s get started. Tie up your hair then, Medea.”

Time goes by quickly and by the time he deems it in a better condition than what it was earlier, it’s been hours since they started.

He’s also pleased to note that Billy hadn’t called again during all this. Whatever Medea did, she must have been successful. 

“I think this might be all we can get done today,” mused Slade. 

“But it’s still not fixed completely.” 

“We made some good progress. More than I expected. Must be because I had such a good helper.”

Medea nods, pleased at the praise. Her mouth opens, but just then her stomach growls. A blush settled on her cheeks. 

Oops. 

His internal clock reminds him of food. While he could go longer without dinner, his daughter shouldn’t. “Why don’t we get take-out tonight? Go get cleaned up and I’ll order something.”

“Pizza?”

“I don’t see why not. I’ll finish the clean-up here. Go ahead,” he says, gesturing to the door with his head. 

Upon cleaning up the rest of the garage, Slade headed back inside the house. He was cleaning the grime off his hands when his phone buzzed with a message notification. Unfortunately, their streak of luck seemed to have run out. 

Drying his hands, he went to pick it up. His eye narrowed at the message. Well, that wouldn’t do. 

“Medea, change of plans. We’re going out for dinner,” he calls up the stairs. “Hurry up and get dressed.”

A muffled response comes from her and Slade takes it as an agreement. 

“We leave in ten,” he adds. He glanced down at his shirt and frowned at the stain. Perhaps he should change too. 

By the time he returns in a new outfit, he finds Medea waiting patiently for him by the door. She had already gotten her shoes on to his approval. 

“Okay, so where are we going?”

“Andrea’s diner. It’s a nice night out and I think that we should walk.” His car was too recognizable. It really wasn’t. But when you had an ex-SAS soldier determined to find you, everything was too recognizable.

“Dad, that’s a twenty-minute walk. For you.” Medea looked at him like he had grown a second head.

“It’s dark and I think we could do with some air.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “Is Uncle Billy on his way or something?” 

“Or something,” he concedes. “Now come on, are you going to leave your old man out to dry?”

“Okay, just for you.”

“How kind of you.” He pretends to wipe the sweat off his forehead to her giggles. “My hero.” Reaching over, he unlocked the front door. “After you.”

They make good headway on their attempt to escape walk to Andrea’s diner. The sun was setting too, so it lent them a sense of security. 

But about ten minutes in, their cover is almost blown. 

“Dad, does that sort of look like Uncle Billy’s car?” asks Medea, squinting at the car up ahead.

“It does,” says Slade, glancing in the direction that she pointed at.

A glance of horror passes between them as the car took a right turn, to reveal that the licence plate was indeed Billy’s. To their luck, he was too preoccupied doing a shoulder check to see them. 

For the sake of avoiding him, Slade did the first thing that came into mind. He picked Medea up and sprinted the other way as she held onto his neck for dear life. If he ran fast enough and Billy obeyed traffic laws, then they should be fine.

“Tell me if you see his car turn around,” he orders, turning left. 

They must make for an ridiculous sight as Slade ran to the nearest safe house in mind. He could probably take whatever car was in that garage. 

It turns out that there is no car in that garage and Slade silently curses his oversight. Right, he had to scrap that car after his last job. 

“Baby, how do you feel about the bike?” He gave Medea a discerning glance over, she was wearing jeans – that wasn’t too bad for a bike ride. Her shoes were fine too.

“Can we, really?”

It seemed like she didn’t have anything against it. So by extension, neither did he. “Let's get you a helmet, first.” After a second, he added, “Some gloves and a thicker jacket too.” 

Moments later, the two are speeding down the road as Medea laughed. From the speaker inside his helmet, he could hear her glee as he made fast turns. 

As they slow down to a stop at a red light, she asks the age-old question, “Can we go faster?”

“Absolutely. But we’ll have to move to a highway, it’s easier there. Fewer lights.”

“Oh. But Andrea’s diner will be out of the way.”

“It will be,” he agrees. “We could stop by somewhere else.”

“No, it’s fine. I guess we don’t have to go that fast.”

The disappointment was clear in her voice, trying to mask it from him. “What about a change of plans? How about we visit Grant? It’ll be about an hour or so.” It should be more, but his bike was also modified a bit more.  

“Can we?” A sliver of hope crawled into her voice. 

The light was about to turn green. “Hold on, tight then.” He flicked a switch, allowing the engine to go beyond the speed limits of a normal motorcycle. “Ready?”

Her grip on him tightened. 

In the instant, the light turned, and the engine purred quietly. Then, it shot forward to Medea’s delighted laughs. It was contagious and he couldn’t help the smile from forming on his face.

Grant wondered if this was a threat. It certainly seemed like it. 

He had no jobs to do. And there was nobody he could pay a visit to without bringing into question his current attire. Red X was perched on a rooftop, cell phone flipped open as all the signs had pointed to it being a slow night in New York. 

But why couldn’t he shake off the feeling of being watched? He turned around multiple times during his excursion around New York, but there was nobody.

The words, ‘I can see you’ from an unknown number had not helped. If anything, he felt uneasy. The smiley emoji that was sent afterwards did nothing to put his fears at ease.

Somewhere down there, the sound of a giggle wafts into his ear. It’s the sound of a young girl laughing and Grant realizes with a pang that he misses his sister fiercely. He wondered what she was doing right now. 

Right now, Medea was probably having dinner with their dad. Or maybe they had finished. He decides that he might as well return to his flat. There wasn’t much to do and he thinks he’d rather be talking with his family than be bored out of his mind out here.

Having made up his mind, he slips his mask back on and slips into the night. 

Though he’s anything but prepared for the sight of his sister and…and his dad at the apartment. He had slipped in through a window and almost fallen back out at the sight.

“Pops…” he says worriedly. “I didn’t know you were coming to visit. Why didn’t you say anything?”

“It was in the spur of the moment.” Except the sadistic glint in his father’s eyes made him doubt that. “Thought we might stop by and visit.”

Nobody addresses the elephant in the room. That he’s still dressed as Red X or how the mask is in his hand. That is nobody but Medea.

He had glanced at Medea hoping that she’d do something to distract the old man, but she proved to be a traitor. “Grant! You were so cool out there!” 

Grant thinks his heart stops beating right there and then. Nervous laughter escapes him. “Yeah? I didn’t see you.”

She made a face. “Don’t be silly. I waved, Dad even let me send you a message.”

Oh my god. That was them?? Stunned, all Grant can do is croak, “Oh. Silly me.”

Medea nodded in understanding. “Why didn’t you tell me? I thought you were so cool!”

“I was?” As his sister continued to bolster his confidence, he slowly regained his cool. A mischievous gleam soon appears in his eye. “Oh? Cooler than Joey?” he hedges. 

“Way cooler!” 

Take that, Joey! The battle to be the favourite sibling was fierce, but he had no qualms about winning.

But then his father chooses that moment to re-enter the conversation.

“You know,” mused Slade slowly, “when you told me you had a math test coming up, I didn’t know that included running around rooftops.”

Grant froze and turned to face his father. Right, he had forgotten about him. He’d been too caught up in being designated the cooler older sibling. Oh boy.

“What have I said about masks?”

His jaw drops. “Come on, I’m seventeen. And it’s not like I’m a mercenary like you.”

Slade raised an eyebrow. 

“Okay fine, but it’s only less than a year now. Just a few more months left,” tries Grant.

“Eighteen or nothing.”

“Pops…”

Stubbornness is very much a Wilson family trait. They are at a standstill – neither agreed on what he should do next. Of whether he should keep being Red X.

He almost wishes that his mother was here. She was one of the few people that could out-stubborn his father. But knowing the topic at hand, she wouldn’t be of much help.

So Grant uses his trump card – his sister. His father’s confidence to say no practically disintegrates whenever Medea asks.

The world is probably blessed that Medea isn’t hell-bent on world domination. He’s sure that Deathstroke would serve it up on a silver platter if she ever asked. And the thing is –Grant realizes with a start much later– he wouldn’t stop him. Neither would Joey. As her brothers, they’d probably go along with it too.

Later, his chest warms when his father offhandedly praises his work as Red X.

That, and combined with the awe in Medea’s eyes, Grant thinks that this went much better than expected.

Though he pales slightly when he’s told that he can tell Joey himself. Oh…yay.

There’s no use moping over the past. As much as Slade would like to berate himself for not seeing the signs earlier, he focuses on the matter at hand.

Slade realizes that his eldest is too much like Adeline and him sometimes. Grant would continue to be Red X regardless of permission. Without permission, he’d just be more discreet about it, and this would be worse. It’d be even harder to keep an eye out for Grant.

They end up compromising. 

Slade was no fool to what Grant really wanted. Red X was just a warm-up. The second he turned eighteen, he had no doubt his eldest would graduate from a thief to a mercenary.

If Grant really wanted the experience, then he’d provide it. On his terms though. He’ll bring him along to some of his next ones. At the very least Slade could keep an eye on him. 

Chapter Text

True to her word, Mother kept in touch with her. Unlike Dad, Shiva travelled further and more often for her jobs, so sometimes it was hard to keep a strict schedule for how often she saw her. 

For the most part, their meetings were in public places. Like the art gallery, the museum or a local coffee shop. Dad was usually the one to pick her up, but there were a few times that Grant would do so instead. 

“Grant!” Medea waved and he smiled when he heard her voice from across the park. “Are you here to pick me up?” she asks once he got close enough.

“Yep.” To Shiva, he says, “Hello.”

Mother nodded politely in greeting. “You are her eldest brother?” At his nod, she continues, “So you must be the one that taught her French?”

A flash of nervousness appeared. “...Yes,” says Grant carefully. “But I wouldn’t really say that I taught her much, Medi–” he quickly corrects, “Medea has always had a knack for languages.”

“That may be true, but you did nurture an interest in it for her. Nice work.”

With a few more pleasantries exchanged, soon their group of three breaks off, heading their separate ways. As Medea left with Grant, she thought back to the conversation earlier. Why had Grant tensed when Mother mentioned French? It was something that had left Mother puzzled too.

Everyone in the family knew that he taught her French. 

So what had happened to make him so tense?

Maybe she could ask Dad later.

It slips her mind to ask because Medea finds herself disgruntled with the turn of events.

It’s unfair that Grant gets to go with Dad to work while she’s stuck at home. 

It’s not like she would be missing school either. Otherwise, Medea would say that she didn’t care about being left out. But they had a long weekend that week and that was the week of his work trip. One that Grant would be going along with.

“Princess, you know it’s not a trip for fun,” placates Slade. “Besides, you’d be bored there. Nothing for you to do, but cooped up in the hotel room for those two days.”

It’s the principle of the matter. 

As if reading her mind, her dad reaches out to ruffle her hair, but she dodges at the last second to his chuckles. “And…” he draws it out for effect. “Your mother already claimed the long weekend.”

A puzzled look appears on her face.

“Oh? Didn’t I tell you already?”

He most certainly hadn’t. At least not that Medea could remember. Or maybe he had? 

“Maybe someone was too busy sulking to listen?” he suggests. Amusement appears in his expression. 

“Daddd!”

He chuckles, leaning over to ruffle her hair to her protests. 

And before she knows it, Thursday morning comes around. Grant and Dad are heading out today too and promise to be back by Saturday to pick her up from Mother’s place. 

As she finishes getting ready for school, Medea turns to Grant and asks him earnestly. “Will you be safe?”

Though taken aback, he quickly recovers. “Of course I will.” Guessing at her worries, he bends down slightly with his pinky extended. “Promise. We’ll be back before you know it. And I’ll tell you–” He sneaks a glance at Slade, who’s looking at them, warning him to choose his next words carefully. “What I remember.”

She shoots him a dubious look. “Really?”

“Really. I’ve got to be the cool older brother, right?” His pinky remains stretched, waiting for hers.

Finally, she relents. Medea hooks her pinky around his. “Okay.”

“What about me?” asks Slade, a few steps away. “Nothing for me, baby?”

Medea turned to look at him. She tilted her head and studied him before grinning. “Nope. Well…”

“Well?” he asks, curious. “Not even a hug?”

“Uncle Billy says not to do anything stupid again,” she states as she came over to hug him.

At his daughter’s words, Slade choked in surprise. From behind Medea, he could see Grant’s grin and soon enough, his muffled laughs could be heard. When he caught his eldest’s attention, he sent him a glare over Medea’s back. 

Medea, who was still oblivious. “Je t’aime, Papa,” she whispers, quiet enough that only he can hear.

“Je t’aime aussi,” he murmurs before releasing her from his embrace. 

It’s 2:57 pm.

Her classes have finished for the day. It’s officially the long weekend, and Shiva finds her nerves on edge as well. This would be the longest that she had Medea in her care – not since she was born.

Even far away, Shiva reads the nervousness present in Medea’s body language. Something that she felt too. 

Which was ridiculous. 

She is Lady Shiva, the greatest martial artist. Only a handful of people on Earth could even boast about coming close to her. 

So why did she feel like this?

She took a breath to steel herself before exiting the car. There was no use prolonging it. 

Que sera, sera. 

Medea didn’t know how to describe it– it was…awkward? 

There was something different between hanging out a few hours with your mother and staying with her for over twenty-four hours.

Something that her mother seemed to have realized as well. The drive to one of her houses is not quiet, but the conversation has its pauses in between. 

Absentmindedly, Medea wondered what assassins did in their free time. Granted Dad did something similar, but she had grown up with him always being a part of her life. It was different with her mother. While she was growing closer to Shiva, she was still unsure. 

She remembers her first official meeting very well. Their second one went a lot better. 

Things did seem to be improving.

Still, she’s surprised when they stop in front of a bookstore after all this driving. 

Mother speaks carefully, there’s a hint of hesitancy in her actions like she’s nervous as to what Medea’s reaction would be. “I thought you might like to visit here. That author that you mentioned, they have a signing today.”

At that, Medea perked up in anticipation. 

Her mother unlocks the car doors. “Come, we should line up before the lines get too long.”

She hurried to catch up. 

Even early, they are still subject to waiting in line for a while. Since only one of them needs to line up, Shiva sends her off to wander around a bit before they get closer to the front of the line.

And Medea does not squeal when her favourite author complements her outfit. Absolutely not. She was as composed as her parents were. 

She leaves the bookstore with a signed book in hand and higher hopes for how today would go.

Things get a little bit better as the day goes on. Dinner is at a quaint Hong Kong-style diner.

Mother isn’t as picky as Dad about what she should or shouldn’t choose when Medea pores over the menu, too indecisive on what to decide. But Shiva does concede –probably for the best– that dessert isn’t a meal. And just like Dad, Mother has a nickname for her. 

Medea isn’t even sure how it started, but it seems that everyone liked to give her a nickname. She wonders if they were in cahoots against her or something.

For Dad, it was Princess. But at her request, it only appeared occasionally now. Sometimes, she was ‘baby’ or any other endearment. 

Her brothers liked to call her ‘Medi’. According to Grant, she had all but given him permission when they were younger to call her that – something that Dad had backed him up on. With them, it was usually ‘Medi’, or the odd princess-related nickname.

Then there is Mom. 

“Don’t dawdle, little witch.” 

Medea realized with a start that she’d been staring at the storefront too long. Shiva was already steps ahead of her. Oops. “I’m not that little!” There was a small pause as she pondered over the validity of her words. “Am I?”

Her mother turned to give her a mysterious smile, not saying anything. And Medea couldn’t get a read on her either. 

Mom really had to show her how she was able to get around her ability. How her parents were able to stop her from reading them was equal parts fascinating and frustrating. 

As she hurried to catch up, she briefly wondered if her parents drew their inspiration for her nicknames from mythology. 

The next day is fairly relaxed, just as yesterday had been. 

Breakfast is a quiet affair, and Medea finds that while she was used to the noise that was common at home, she also enjoys the quiet atmosphere with Shiva. 

She works on homework while her mother did whatever assassins did in their free time. Medea had been told where to find her should she need to seek her out. 

With that in mind, she focused on completing the science package assigned. Occasionally, Shiva would breeze into the room, they’d exchange a few words before she went back to her homework. It goes by much faster than expected, two hours are barely over when she closes the completed package. With no more homework left, she turned her sights to her surroundings.

What could she do now?

Across the room is a wooden bookcase filled with books. Curiously, she approached it and noted the books printed in various languages. Some she could identify, while others she could only guess at. 

For the most part, they looked to be wildly out of her age group. That is until she spots the box near the bottom shelves. Moving closer, she made out the Chinese characters, ‘Doraemon’ . Briefly, she remembered that Shiva had given her permission to look through the bookcase, so she didn’t hesitate to pull one of the books out. 

To her surprise, she found it to be a manga about a robotic cat who travels in time to help the protagonist. Finding it interesting, she’d pulled out the first volume and the next few ones. Satisfied that it would be enough to keep her occupied, she took the volumes with her and settled on the couch. 

It was easy to immerse herself in and Medea found herself chuckling at the turn of events that Nabito, the protagonist, found himself in. 

She’s halfway through the second volume when she thought back to the condition of the books. 

Granted, all of Shiva’s books were in top-notch condition. But her mother didn’t seem the one for this type of genre. These volumes and all the other ones in the box were brand new and it seemed that she was the first to open them. 

Was it possible that Mom had bought them for…for her?

But as amusing as the manga was, Medea was growing bored. She’d been here for about a whole day now, yet she still hadn’t explored the house in its entirety. Her curiosity was telling her to go explore.

She wondered what the rest of the house looked like. 

For the most part, her mother’s house is very much like her dad’s. It’s very neat. Comfortable and there are signs of being lived in on a less temporary basis. Medea guessed that this was more than a safe house. There’s an assortment of DVDs on the shelf by the TV.

From the kitchen, Medea finds various brochures for takeout nearby. In the cabinets are a variety of spices, a lot of Asian ones, she noted. Mid-exploration, she makes herself a cup of hot chocolate from the powder that she finds in the cupboard.

But where home is filled with the traces of Medea and her siblings, this place is evident that it regularly hosts one person. 

Hot chocolate in hand, Medea continued her exploration till she found the room where Shiva was. The door is partly closed and she peeks into the room from the gap provided.

It was a training room of sorts, like Dad’s, and within it, Shiva was training,

She watched, entranced by how her mother moved. Deadly and fluid. It was similar, yet nothing like Dad. Medea is so transfixed that she almost drops her drink in fright when her mother’s gaze met hers.

“You can come in.”

At that, she’d carefully pushed the door open. 

“Did you need something?”

Medea shook her head. “I was just exploring the house and stopped to watch.”

“I see.” Shiva paused and took in her appearance. “Did you want to try?”

“I…ah, it’s alright. I…just want to watch.” 

Her mother nodded, reaching for a water bottle. “Alright. If you change your mind, you can tell me.”

As Shiva settled back into her training, Medea found herself entranced once more. 

Okay, maybe she did want to learn.

Was it too late to change her mind?

Medea is anything but subtle, thought Shiva wryly. She was like an open book with her emotions, it wasn’t hard to read her. The corner of her lips twitched when the next thought that popped into her mind is a familiar exasperated male’s voice. ‘Shiva, everyone is open with their emotions if they aren’t you.’

She was careful not to let her daughter know that she’d caught on. 

Eyes wide, Medea takes in her every movement. As if trying to commit her every action to memory. It was obvious that she wanted to learn, but she didn’t want to voice it. 

And if Shiva slows down slightly during certain moves, nobody else needs to know. 

That night, Mother suggested take-out for dinner. It’s nothing complicated, just a pizza off one of the take-out menus she’d found earlier. 

During the meal, Medea finds herself exchanging a laugh with Shiva as they both realize that they like to eat pizza the same way. They’d ordered one of those deluxe pizzas, with a little bit of every kind of topping. 

And on their plates, they’d both picked off the olives and left them in a pile without prompt. Neither minded the shrimp, nor the mushrooms. To her surprise and secret delight, Shiva enjoyed pineapple on pizza as well. 

A win in Medea’s book. It was hard to find someone else who enjoyed it. Dad didn’t really care, and her brothers liked to consider it a war crime to find pineapple on pizza.

Of course, they shared some differences. Mom prefers adding chilli flakes to hers, something she opted out of. 

In the background, the TV is on and some random Spanish soap opera was playing, but neither was paying attention. Instead, they are in the middle of a conversation when Shiva’s phone rings. 

“Yes?” Shiva hummed in agreement and listened before saying, “Of course. I’ll pass the phone to her.” With that, she passed the phone to her. “Your father’s on the line.”

“Dad?” says Medea, putting the phone to her ear. “Did something happen?”

“Sort of,” admits Slade. “Medea, I’m really sorry, I think your brother and I are going to be here longer than expected.”

“Oh.” Then her mind jumps to the worst possible scenario. “Grant’s not hurt, is he? Or are you hurt?”

A low chuckle came from her dad. “No, no, nothing like that.”

“You’re sure?” 

“I’m very sure, baby.” Her dad explains in some vague terms how things were fine, except some circumstances had led to them needing to extend their trip. He promised to explain things in more detail once he picks her up, but for now, this was the best he could tell her. 

Almost reluctantly, Medea hands over the phone back to Shiva when Slade asks to speak to her. 

“Ah, I see.” Shiva paused, listening. “Take your time then.”

While she likes spending time with her mom, Medea can’t deny that she still missed Grant and Dad. 

Over the next few days, Medea spends it in a fairly similar manner. They stay at home and she works hard to finish the other volumes of manga in that box. 

She gets through a significant number of volumes, but she also takes up her mom's offer. Shiva’s training is different; where her dad teaches her how to fight without relying on it or how to throw off that ability, her mom teaches her how to sharpen her senses and utilize their ability to its fullest. Their fighting styles are different too, and Medea finds that each one has its advantages and disadvantages. 

A surprised, but pleased smile flickers on her mother’s face when Medea anticipates her next action moments before it had actually happened.

For some of their meals, they order take-out, but there were rare occasions where Shiva cooked as well. 

And outside of training, Shiva also inadvertently introduces her to Chinese dramas, especially the wuxia genre. It’s an old show that she’s watching now, one that’s been out long before she was born, but together with Shiva, she watches The Return of the Condor Heroes. 

Right now, she was entranced with how cool the female protagonist was. 

Somehow it leads to another nickname during training. 

“Where did you learn that?” asks Shiva as she watched Medea make her way from one roof to another. Then a look of understanding appeared, “Are you trying to imitate her ?” referring to the female protagonist. 

A slight flush appeared on Medea’s face as she nodded sheepishly. Of course, Mom would recognize it. 

“It’s not very practical,” she noted. But as if noting Medea's glum expression at that, she’d added, “Why don’t we modify it slightly?” Shiva can’t help the small twitch of her lips when her daughter beams at her words. Nor does it stop the nickname, xiaolongnü, from slipping out. 

Medea is upstairs, fast asleep when Shiva allows her thoughts to wander. Before she knew it, her laptop was sitting in front of her open, and her hands open moved of their own accord.

Soon, she found what she was looking for. And she’s unsure how she should proceed. 

There is another child. 

A girl, a little older than her Medea. 

One that Shiva tries hard to forget. 

Perhaps it is unfair to the girl that she has never once sought her out. But her very existence reminds her of things she’d rather forget. 

Shiva finds that the world has rarely been kind to her. In turn, she’s selfish with the world. It’s why Medea is a secret that she had guarded so fiercely. Cain cannot Nobody else can know of her existence.

It’s why she didn’t name the other child, nor keep an ear out for any scrap of information about her. Or why she didn’t search for her after all these years.

She was the product of an agreement with Cain, an exchange for freedom. 

It was easier for the girl to remain unknown – her heart wouldn’t hurt so much at the what ifs. By remaining nameless, she could forget the deal with Cain.  

Some things deserved to stay in the past. 

Except it was harder to do so now. Especially when Medea was growing up so quickly. Even from a distance, Medea sometimes reminds her of the other girl.

Sandra was weak, giving in. She searched through Cain’s database, unsure what to expect. 

His perfect weapon? The perfect heir to her legacy?

A daughter?

A mirthless laugh escaped her as she looked at the files in front of her. For all Cain tried, he had failed. The girl had run off. Years had passed and he hadn’t been able to get her to return to his side. 

But just as quickly, she grew silent. Medea was upstairs, fast asleep and she didn’t want to wake her. 

Cassandra. Shiva tried out the name in her head, it was so foreign to her yet so similar. Inadvertently, she thinks back to her sister, Carolyn. Immediately, Shiva shook her head, not wanting to delve down that path tonight.

Instead, she focused on the name. Cassandra. 

Cassandra and Medea, both figures of royalty in Greek mythology. 

Similar in some ways yet so different in others.

Wearily, Shiva closed the files, deleting all traces of her meddling in his database. Where was the girl now? And in the case that she found her, what should she do? 

The very sight of her –brief as it was from a digital file – still sent an indescribable emotion through her. Bitterness? 

She rose from her seat, moving toward her room. On her way, she paused by a door and quietly opened it. Relieved that the occupant inside was slumbering, she closed the door and continued on her way. 

Maybe someday, things will be easier. 

But tonight was not that day.

Grant has great potential. He hasn’t said it out loud, since it might cause unnecessary pressure, but Slade thinks that his eldest would eventually surpass him. All he needed was more experience and training. A diamond in the rough.

All Slade can hope is that he can live to see that day. He doesn’t think his blood pressure has ever gotten so high until this job. The first man that had shot at Grant hadn’t lived very long after his actions. Nor had the next few that had dared to even look at his eldest. Even if Grant was unharmed and covered entirely by armour.

It’s hard to come to terms that the baby he once cradled had grown up. No longer the rambunctious toddler that he had to run after either. Seventeen and determined to make his mark on the world. 

For the sake of his health, he fervently hopes Joey and Medea will not follow in their brother’s footsteps. He doesn’t know if he’d survive. 

Medea… Slade misses his youngest fiercely. This just might be the longest that he's gone without seeing her. 

The arrangements with Shiva to pick up Medea have already been made, but despite his wishes, Monday doesn't come any quicker. 

He knocks on the door not a minute later than he had promised Medea, and Shiva opens the door. “Wilson.”

“Shiv–” He doesn’t get to finish greeting Shiva when Medea appears from behind her and launches herself at him. 

“Dad!” As she hugged him, Slade had to remember not to flinch even when she accidentally brushes against a healing wound. 

“Did you get hurt?” Her eyes narrowed as she stepped back to take in his appearance. 

Either he hid it worse than he thought, or as Shiva liked to say – he was much more open with his emotions, which was true when he was around the kids. That, or it was the third option. Medea had gotten better with using her ability. 

“Did you miss me that much?” he asks, a teasing lilt to his voice as she fussed over him. 

“Don’t be silly, Dad. You promised, remember? You said that you wouldn’t get hurt.” A frown appeared, and she crossed her arms.

“I’m not,” he lies. Slade tried to keep his expression neutral, but it was hard when her pout made her look so adorable. It wouldn’t do him any good to laugh.

“Liar.” At that, Medea poked him. Hard. Mere millimetres beside his healing wound.

He didn’t flinch, though he wondered why his daughter was so cruel to do this to him. “You have terrible bedside manners, baby. You must get it from your mother,” he jokes.

Shiva raised an eyebrow as if asking why she’d been dragged into this conversation. “Or,” she says lightly as Medea turns to look at her. “Or maybe your father has always been a terrible patient.” The corner of her mouth twitched upwards for a second. To Medea, she passes a book into her hands. “You can return this the next time we meet.”

“Are you sure?”

Shiva nodded. “I’ll be away for a bit. I won’t miss it.” 

“I’ll take good care of it,” vows Medea seriously.

“I know.” Shiva pats Medea’s hair. “I know, xiaolongnü .” Her eyes seemed to twinkle with mirth and Slade couldn’t help but glance at the novel’s title. It takes a mere second to translate and understand its origin.

“Mom!” But just as quickly as an indignant look appeared on Medea’s face, her face flushed red like a tomato. 

At the title, an astonished look appears on Shiva’s face before it quickly disappears. A teasing smile appears in its stead. “Medea has recently found a new...hero of sorts to admire. While she wants to emulate her in some ways, I trust you won't let her train bees to attack on her command?"

Slade laughed. "Of course I won't."

"Dad! You know that I don't even like bees!"

Chapter Text

“When do you think they’ll be done?” asks Medea, sitting on the hood of his car. 

Slade shrugs. “I’m not sure.” Though a frown appeared on his face as he checked his watch. It had been more than ten minutes, yet neither Joey nor Grant had come out, leaving them to wait in the warm weather. He gave it a few more minutes before he decided that this had gone on long enough. “Let’s go check on them. See why they’re taking so long.”

Medea slid off the hood and followed along as they made their way toward Adeline’s house.

He knocks because as impatient as he’s been, manners are still important. At least in front of children. It opens rather promptly and he’s greeted with the sight of a harried Joey. 

“Oh, good. You’re here,” signs Joey. “Can you…”

Slade inwardly winced when the voices in the background became clearer. Maybe Medea should be waiting in the car. 

“Joseph, who’s at the door?” asks Adeline as she turns the corner, approaching the three of them. At the sight of him, her brows furrowed. Though she made an effort to smooth them out as she spotted Medea. “You’ve grown since the last time I saw you, Medea.”

“Hi Miss Adeline,” she says politely, if not slightly uncomfortable. 

 “What grade are you in now?”

“Fifth grade.”

Adeline made a noise of acknowledgement. “Joey, why don’t you bring her to your room? You bought her those books?”

Joey looked to protest. “Now?” he signs, and a trace of worry appears on his face. 

“Yes. I need to talk to your father.”

At that, Medea glanced at him carefully, silently asking for permission to follow. Slade tilted his head slightly, gesturing for her to go ahead. 

Neither adult spoke a word till the two had disappeared up the stairs and the door was shut. 

“Slade.” Her voice was tense.

“Adeline.”

“We need to talk.” She turned and headed back in the direction she’d come from. “Come.” 

And if earlier had been any indication, Slade already knew what they would be talking about. Who, not what. He’s anything but surprised when he sees Grant fuming in the other room with Adeline.

It’s only been five minutes and tensions are at an all-time high. The cozy atmosphere within the sitting room is a stark contrast to the frigid atmosphere.

“Adeline, lay off the boy. He’s old enough to make his decisions.”

“Oh, I haven’t even started on you. You knew he was Red X. Yet, look at you , encouraging him to be just like you. A killer for hire. ”

“I already told you, none of it is Pop’s fault. He didn’t force me to be a merc,” interrupts Grant. “And I didn’t tell him about Red X. He sort of just found out.”

“This is between your father and me. Stay out of it.” 

“Grant, why don’t you join the othe–” he tries.

His eldest is practically ready to flee, that is if Adeline hadn’t shot him a look. “No, he’s staying here. He’s just as part of this as you are. What were you thinking, Slade? Bringing him on jobs as well? How dare you?”

“How dare I? Maybe if you stopped to think for a moment, you’d see.”

“And what would I see?” retorts Adeline.

“That he’s too much like us. Especially to you, he has your temper.” A glare at Grant stops him from interjecting. “Did you think either of us could stop him?” 

“Like us? He’s exactly like you.”

“And what am I?”

“Selfish. Irresponsible.” She stared him down and he didn’t flinch, rather he returned her glare with his own. “He’s not you, Slade. Stop making him into something that he’s not.”

“Adeline, please. You think I don’t know that?”

A look of disbelief is sent his way. 

“Grant, go find your siblings,” says Slade. When his eldest seemed to falter under the gaze of both of his parents, he added, “ Now .”

With that, Grant slipped away. 

He turns his attention back to her. “This is more than just Grant, isn’t it?”

A surly expression appeared. “Why don’t you tell me?”

He doesn’t know if he regrets opening the can of worms that is his relationship with his ex-wife. Perhaps the divorce was a good choice, their relationship had improved when they were no longer obligated to stay under one roof. Of course, even now, they’ve always had their moments – some days were better, but today wasn't one of those. 

“And don’t get me started on your daughter. ”

“She was born years after we divorced. Medea has nothing to do with this.”

“On the contrary.” She stalks forward, poking him hard in the chest. “You know just as well as I how much Grant and Joseph adore her. Particularly Grant. But have you ever thought about whether I want to see her everywhere?”

His eye narrowed. “Your memory must be failing,” he says, voice becoming colder. “I’ve never forced her presence on you as brief as they are.”

“Is that what you tell Grant?” she mocks.

“What?”

A harsh laugh escapes her. “Bravo, your acting has improved over the years.”

“I haven’t the faintest clue.”

“I can tolerate the girl, but I have my limits too, Slade. At family events? No.”

Slade almost wants to groan out loud. He knows exactly what she is referring to now – thank God, Medea had read the room and had refused then. 

It certainly didn’t help that years ago, when custody switched to him for Grant instead of her, he’d hoped that with some more distance, mother and son would be able to salvage their relationship, but it seemed with time, it had only worsened. This was likely Grant’s latest attempt at spiting her. 

“Whatever it was, I wasn’t a part of it. But I will be having words with him, I’ll give you that.”

“Your word? I’m afraid it doesn’t mean much to me.” 

“Medea is my daughter, not a weapon. None of the children are. Something that I hope you’ll understand. Grant–”

“Where was this attentive and caring father then? When Joey’s life was at stake?” she demands. 

He flinches at the reminder. 

“Cat got your tongue? Face it, until her, you never had the intention to play house. You are a selfish man, Slade. You’ll play the part until it no longer benefits you. Even with your family. Tell me, when will you grow bored again? Who will you leave her with?”

“I won’t abandon any of them,” he says firmly. “My faults are mine and mine alone. Joseph’s–” his throat catches. No matter how his relationship with Joey is, it will always be his fault that his youngest son is mute. “If I could, I would have chosen differently that day.”

“Regret won’t bring back his voice. I don’t believe you.”

“I don’t need to prove anything to you,” he says, moving away from her and toward the door of the room. 

“I won’t let you corrupt Joseph.”

“I’ve said it before.” He paused by the doorway, turning back to face her. “He isn’t a weapon for me to wield. But he isn’t yours either.”

“I hope you’ll remember your words.” A warning. “Otherwise, I’ll do more than shoot out your other eye.”

“And I wouldn’t do a thing to stop you.”

Reluctant as Adeline is, when she emerges from the other room, her gaze falls on Joey who’s standing by the foyer with Slade. It doesn’t take much to guess where the other two Wilson siblings were. 

“I already promised that you could go on the trip, so this changes nothing,” she tells Joey. “We can talk once you’ve returned.”

Slade pretends not to hear their  conversation.  He has no doubts that Joey's visits with him would be reduced after this trip. 

The atmosphere is tense and awkward in the car for once. Slade doesn’t think he can think of a time when all three children had been so quiet – as much as he used to complain about missing peace and quiet; now that it’s here, he hates it. 

And when they pull up to his place, he asks Grant to stay behind to help him put something in the trunk. Medea sends him a questioning look his way but doesn’t say anything. Instead, she tugs Joey toward the house to help her with something. 

He waits until the others are out of hearing when he turns to Grant. “Medea is not a weapon, especially for you to use against your mother. And this applies to Joey.”

“I’m not!” he says indignantly. At his look, he deflated slightly. “I…fine. Joey would never, he–oh. You mean like what I did.”

Slade nodded. “I don’t want to have this conversation or any variation of it with you again.” He glanced at the side to see Grant nod rather forlornly. “Why don’t you go see if your sister needs any more help packing? Make sure she has no more than three books.”

“Three?”

“She’d bring a small library’s worth if we didn’t impose a limit.”

The corner of Grant’s mouth twitched, knowing the truth of his words.

“Does everyone have everything? We won’t be turning back unless it’s on the pain of death.” At that, he glances over at his children. “Not for a book, a charger or a sketchbook.”

A round of nods answers him. 

“And the three of you are sitting in the back. We’re picking up Billy too.”

Instantly, the three scrambled out the door as he takes his time doing one final check around the home – electronics unplugged, the stove is off, etc. When he makes it to the car, he’s unsurprised at the sight. 

As good as Medea is at reading body language, she is no match for her brothers’ long legs. Still, even if she’s been dealt this bad hand, she’s already hard at work at changing her situation.  

“But Joey!” She stands outside the car, hands on her hips. “You promised last time.” 

Both Grant and Joey had claimed the backseats, leaving the middle one opened. The dreaded seat. Slade can already see Joey's will faltering when Medea’s eyes met his. Joey looked away, unable to deal. 

Grant pretended not to see the way Joey sent him a pleading look.

“Fine…” she sighed dejectedly. “I guess, I’ll just sit–”

“Okay, okay. Fine,” signs Joey quickly, giving in. “Take my seat. It’s fine. Pops has his far too back anyways. I rather have his seat,” he gestures to Grant.

Medea perked up considerably when he shifted over.  

The car ride to pick up Billy is considerably less awkward than the earlier drive home had been. For one, the kids were slowly coming out of their self-imposed shells. The car’s atmosphere warmed up as it delved into its usual chaos. 

Joey demonstrates his new voice of sorts, a subvocal transmitter. Connected to his phone’s speaker, Joey let his siblings suggest new ways that his voice should come out as. Slade’s unsure of how he feels about Darth Vader as his son’s new voice. He's more than relieved when the kids grow tired of it and change it to something that he imagines Joey's voice would have sounded like at this age.

Medea calls dibs on his jacket, something that his sons didn’t seem to mind.

As they leave with Billy in the car, seating arrangements shift once more amongst the children. Medea stubbornly claims the seat behind his as hers. But she does help Joey reclaim another seat. The combination of puppy eyes from both his siblings had caused Grant to fold, and now Grant was stuck in the middle seat.

Slade finds out an hour into the drive that perhaps Medea had made a good choice about the jacket. With Joey’s tendency to turn up the A/C, his jacket had quickly become Medea’s blanket against the cold. 

Unfortunately, Grant hadn’t this foresight. And sitting in the middle, he was subject to the brunt of the A/C. Joey stubbornly refused to turn it down despite Grant’s increasingly desperate bribes. 

Billy can’t help but laugh at the chaos. 

Eventually, Medea takes pity on Grant, allowing him to share some of Slade's jacket with her. As the drive goes on, the children slowly grow quiet and when he glanced at the rearview mirror, he found both Joey and Medea leaning on Grant – all three fast asleep.

“Well, I never,” mused Billy from beside him. “I thought they’d never quiet down.”

“You and I both.”

“You seem distracted today, Slade.” 

“Do I?” He glanced at the GPS, almost there. Just another hour or so of driving. A moment later, he concedes in Portuguese – a language that none of the three knew yet, “Red X. She found out, amongst other things.”

Without hesitation, Billy switched to the same language. “ Ah, I see .” He glanced behind him, at the children still asleep. “ How are you holding up? ”

“Fine. As well as I can be. I…I just hope that it won’t affect them.”

With the slumbering children in the backseat, the last hour of driving goes on fairly quietly. All three are still fairly groggy when they arrive. 

Once camp is set up. Plans are quickly drawn up as to who would be going with who. 

Like he’d promised Grant a while back, it was mainly a hunting trip for the two of them. Medea was too young to handle firearms, Joey was uninterested. Though he did show them how to set up traps – on the offhand that neither of them caught anything. 

Joey and Medea had made plans to wander around the forest. Something about mushroom foraging, he remembers Joey saying. Billy had opted to follow the younger children, ensuring nobody was getting poisoned. 

Right now, the three were bickering about something. Probably some bet, he surmises, as he glanced over at them. He brought his focus back to what Billy was saying. 

“You weren’t even listening, were you?”

“I was listening,” he lies. 

“You’re a terrible liar, Slade."

“Remember, Red, don’t go listening to wolves or stray off the path,” teases Grant. “We don’t want to have to cut you out of his stomach.”

“There are no wolves here,” retorts Medea. “Don’t be silly, Grant.” Though worry does appear on her face even as she tries to mask it. “Right, Dad?” When he didn’t make any sign to show that he heard her, she tugged at Joey’s arm. “Joey?”

Joey grinned. “Oh, I don’t know, Little Red…” he says. “I’ve heard that wolves are native to these parts. There’s been a wolf problem or something these few years.”

“They go for the weakest link first,” adds Grant unhelpfully. 

“That’s usually the smallest, right?”

“Yep.”

“Dad??”

Slade is half listening to his children squabble in the background, something about wolves now. “Yes, yes, I know, Billy. You don’t have to remind me.”

The look Billy shot him was full of disbelief. One that was entirely warranted, though Slade would never admit it, even on his deathbed.

“What?” Though his attention is instantly occupied as Medea appears teary-eyed, tugging at his arm. “What is it, Princess?” he asks gently.

“Dad, I want to go home!”

“We just got here, what happened?”

Her bottom lip quivered. “I don’t want to end up as someone’s dinner!” 

Slade has no idea what he's supposed to do, he’s helplessly standing there when Medea takes off her jacket and hands it to him. “What’s wrong with the jacket? It’s cold out–” He tries to hand it back to her, but she stubbornly refuses it. 

“Everything. I don’t want it anymore! I don’t want to be a target!”

He nods like it makes perfect sense, even if he doesn't understand a single thing. It was the safest route for him right now. 

“Now if only you were that great at listening to me,” mutters Billy under his breath. One look from Medea and Slade had already forgotten about him.

Slade looked flabbergasted – unsure how to respond while Medea looked moments away from tears. Then again, he was never really able to say no to her. So if she was that earnest about going home, he’d probably fold very soon. 

Something that the boys had picked up on too as they had scrambled over to where everyone else was.

“Medi, there’s nothing to be scared off,” says Joey. “I don’t think people see wolves that often.”

“Yeah, just a joke,” adds Grant. “Really, Medi.”

She made a sniffling noise, running to hide behind Slade.

At that, Slade looked between his sons, then at the red jacket in his hands. Dinner? Red jacket…wolves… red riding hood? “Boys…” he says carefully. 

Nervous laughter escaped Grant and Joey studied the dirt by their feet, suddenly finding it fascinating. 

“We’ve talked about this.”

“About what?” 

Billy snorted, drawing Grant and Joey’s glares. He gave them a look and gestured back to Slade who was waiting impatiently for an answer. 

Two chastised children and one thankfully dry-eyed child later, they finally split off into groups. Joey and Medea with Billy, while Grant and he headed deeper into the woods.

If the three are split up, they won’t get into that much trouble, right?

“Don’t go too far ahead,” calls Billy after them as Medea rushes ahead, eager to explore with Joey following behind. Quietly under his breath, he muttered, “I’m not getting that old, am I? How hard is it to keep up with them?”

She bent down and nudged a log, inspecting the organism growing on it. “Joey, I think I found something! What is it?”

 “Yeah?” Dirt rustled as he bent down beside her. From behind, she could hear something about old bones coming from Uncle Billy. “Looks like pheasant back?”

“Can we pick this one?”

Joey pokes it with a stick from the ground. “I think so.” He turned around and asks, “Uncle Billy, what do you think?”

Carefully, their godfather inspected it and she beamed once he gave an approving nod. Just like that, the mushroom is placed into their her mushroom basket.

It was not a picnic basket, thank you very much, Grant. And she was not Little Red Riding Hood, she had more sense than to follow a stranger.

Somewhere in the forest, Grant sneezed, scaring away his prey. 

They continued exploring the forest, stopping occasionally to pick mushrooms and other edible plants. Billy joked that at the very least they wouldn’t go hungry if the other two didn’t find anything.

“Do you think we’d find any deer?” asks Grant. 

Slade took a look at their surroundings, so far they hadn’t come across anything. “Probably not. It’s not the season yet.” 

“Oh.”

“And you’d have to dress the deer here rather than back at camp.” At Grant’s confusion, he adds, “Who had the bright idea to show their sister Bambi recently?”

He flushed at being called out. Still, he couldn’t help but grumble. “But where is everything? We’ve been out here for ages, and still haven’t caught anything.”

“Patience goes a long way, boy.” 

“I bet they’ve filled up a whole basket already. Joey’s going to spend the whole night bragging.”

“Oh?” Slade is half listening when he catches sight of something. Tilting his head slightly, he could hear a faint rustle. Turning to Grant, he interrupted him mid-talk. “Quiet.”

Instantly falling quiet, his eldest looks at him then in the direction he’d been glancing earlier, then back to him with wide eyes. “Prey?” he signs.

“Maybe,” signs Slade. He watched as Grant’s eyes lit up in anticipation. 

By now, their basket was getting full of mushrooms and various edible plants. It had gotten fairly full and Uncle Billy had held it for them why they continued to wander around. 

“Careful kiddos, there’s a raccoon ahead,” hums Billy up ahead. 

Medea squinted and tried to find one. Taking note of her actions, Joey tugged her hand and pointed in the direction where it was. 

She watched as it meandered away from their direction, not giving them a second glance – probably for the best.

Continuing on their exploration, they’d eventually stopped near a stream where she’d found a bunch of dandelions growing nearby. With a vast pile in hand, Joey was patiently teaching her how to make a flower crown out of them.

She’d promised to give him the first successful one. 

Her first one comes out a little worse for the wear, but still acceptable. Despite her protests to make him a better one, Joey wears it, reminding her of her earlier words.

Her second one is a little better – this one, she gifts to Uncle Billy who wears it in good humour. Medea is more than envious of how perfect the ones that Joey makes turn out. Her third one is still far worse than Joey’s first attempt.

In the time it took her to make one, he makes two. He was currently finishing his second one, except this time instead of using dandelions, he braided strands of grass together and tucked a variety of flowers in the gaps. 

How did he make the process look so effortless?  

As if guessing her thoughts, Joey smiles and lets her scooch over to sit by him while he finishes. To her surprise, he places this one on her head. 

“It suits you,” he signs. "I think–" Though before he could continue, a rustle came from nearby and a strange man came out of the bushes. 

Somehow Medea got the feeling that he wasn’t here for hunting. He was dressed nothing like Grant or Dad. And the look in his eyes told her that he probably didn’t hunt animals.

In an instant, Billy moved to their side. “Hello. Can we help you?”

“I thought I heard some voices. This is private property,” says the man gruffly. 

A lie. They were practically in the middle of nowhere and Dad had told them about the forest before they had all split up. Something that Joey and Billy knew as well.

“We’re happy to leave,” says Billy smoothly. “Children grab your things.” He pressed the basket into Joey’s hands. “Hold on to this for me, will you?”

Joey nods. 

Then his tone quietened. “Wait where we saw the raccoon earlier. If there’s the slightest hint that things are wrong, take Medea and run back to camp.” His tone broke no leeway for argument. 

During all this, the man stared at them. There was something about the way his hand twitched. Or the way his expression looked like he was debating on what to do with them. “Actually…”

Billy held up a hand to interrupt. His hand landed on Joey’s shoulder as he said, “Alright, give us a moment alone, will you, kiddos?” The cheer in his voice was cold and devoid of any emotion. “I’ll see you in a bit, okay?”

And as they started to head in the direction they’d originally come from, they heard Billy say, “Now, I’m sure we could come to some agreement of sorts here.”

Whatever agreement it was, Billy doesn’t divulge it to them when he returns. Not a hair is out of place either, if anything he looks neater than he had been earlier. 

Upon seeing them, he smiles kindly –this one, genuine – “Let’s head back to camp. I think that they are likely heading back too.”

“Okay,” says Medea. “Oh, you’ve got something in your hair.” 

He brushed a hand over his hair to see the remnants of his dandelion crown fall to the ground. “I’m sorry about the crown, Medea.”

“That’s alright. I’m glad you’re okay though.”

He sends her a smile. "It's going to take a lot more than that to defeat me."

"But..." signs Joey with an innocent look. "Didn't you trip on air earlier?"

Billy's jaw dropped in betrayal. "Joseph!"

Medea couldn't help but snicker. 

Contrary to what Billy thought, Slade and Grant were not in fact heading back. Hunting was quite unsuccessful to Grant’s chagrin. 

All they had to show for their outing were a few fish that they managed to catch. 

Grant’s expression was particularly gloomy and Slade had the suspicion that saying that it was normal to not find anything wouldn’t help. So he kept silent.

“Should we check the snares?” asks Grant as it started to get dark. 

“If they haven’t already, then sure.”

There’s nothing.

“They haven’t been set out for long,” suggests Slade. “Why don’t you check in on them tomorrow morning?”

“Okay,” says Grant, disheartened. “Whatever you say, Pops.”

When it becomes clear that not much more can be done today, Grant grudgingly agrees to head back to camp. 

Hopefully, tomorrow will bring better luck. Slade won’t lie he’s a little disappointed at the lack of game as well. Absentmindedly, he wondered how Joey and Medea fared. 

Though the moment he’s back at camp, he raises an eyebrow when Billy signals to him that they need to talk. So he nods as he ruffles Medea’s hair, listening to her ramble about what they had found. 

“Why don’t you tell Grant? I’ve got to talk to Billy for a moment.”

As she headed off in the direction of her brothers, he couldn’t help but smile when he noticed the basket in her hand and how much she reminded him of Red Riding Hood when she had the jacket on. 

Maybe his sons had a point with the nickname – not that he’d say that in front of Medea.

“Oh, you went fishing?” signs Joey. “What happened to hunting?”

“Well, it was a better day to fish,” retorts Grant. He blinked as Medea came up to him. “Yes?”

In her hands was the last flower crown that she’d made today. “Here, it's yours.”

“Err…thanks?”

Medea pouted when he didn’t wear it or take it from her.

“Why don’t you keep it safe instead?”

“Okay.” It was in fact not okay. If he couldn’t appreciate it then she’d give it to someone who would.

She stays listening to her brothers talk about who had clearly won the bet for having the more interesting day when she decides to wander back to her dad’s side. Medea was more than sure that Joey could argue their side well enough.

As she approached them, Dad looked her way then at the dandelion crown in her hands. “Did you need something?”

“This is for you,” she says, holding out the crown. Dad, wouldn’t not wear it, right?

“How lovely,” he says, taking it. “Did you make this yourself?”

“With some help from Joey. He made mine.” She made a gesture to the one that was still on her head. “His is better.”

“Well, I think yours is beautiful too. Do you mind putting it on for me, baby?” He passed the flower crown back to her and bent down for her. 

“Okay.” She placed the crown carefully on his hair. “Done.”

“Thank you.”

Grant stared with narrowed eyes at the scene from where Medea was standing. “Did she just give mine away?”

“Is it yours if you didn’t take it?” says Joey. A smug look appeared on his face as his brother sent him a dark look.

“It’s mine,” he reiterates. 

“Apparently not anymore. I’ve got one here if you really wanted one.” Joey fished one out of the basket. This one was much prettier and neater than the one Medea had offered Grant earlier. 

“Did she make it?”

“No, I did.”

“Then I don’t want it.” His tone makes it clear that it should have been obvious to Joey. He glanced at the crown in Joey’s hand once more before he made a grab for it. “Give me that.”

He stalked over to where his father and Uncle Billy were sitting, ignoring Medea’s curious look. To his father, he holds out his empty hand. “Give me that.”

A look of confusion flickers on his face before it disappears. “And what am I giving back, Grant?” he says calmly, knowing full well as to what he was referring to.

“You took the wrong crown,” he says matter of factly. “Here, this is yours.” He offers Joey’s crown to his father. “See how it doesn’t have as many imperfections?” Grant ignored how Billy was quietly laughing on the side.

“Oh? But what if I think this one is perfect for me?” Slade raised an eyebrow as if daring him to take it from him. 

“Well, it’s not,” he says hotly. And he did. Grant lunged, snatching his flower crown back from his father’s head and puts it unceremoniously on his own head. “There, problem solved. And you promised to show us how to gut the fish. We’ve been waiting for ages.”

“Alright, alright.” His father held his hands out in surrender as he got up, before taking the other crown offered. 

As Slade finally settled back down beside Billy, he couldn’t help but snicker when Billy gestured to the flower crown. 

“Well, I never,” chuckles Billy. “To think the boy was so jealous that he’d take back the crown. You know that Joey made the one in your hand, right?”

“Of course I do. So before we were interrupted by the kids, what did you want to say?” Though Slade slightly regrets asking for the details once he heard his explanation. He damn near has a heart attack. “You said they were safe!” he hissed. Who even has a meth lab in the middle of nowhere? 

“They didn’t touch a single hair on your children’s head.”

“They’re handled?”

“I’m insulted that you’d think otherwise.”

“Do they know?”

Billy sent him a look. “Your children may be perceptive, but even they have their limits. Watch o–”

Slade shifted slightly to the right as a pile of innards flew by him. He glanced down to see the pile on the ground. “Kids, if you’re going to throw something, make sure that it hits the target at the very least.”

The kids mutter an apology before returning to their heated conversation. 

“Are you trying to egg them on?” asks Billy incredulously. “You’re mad, Slade.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Okay, maybe he does. But how else was he supposed to get them to improve hand-eye coordination? The next time it gets too close for comfort, he sighed. 

He’s not sure who threw the last one, but it’s not like it matters. 

“Alright, new rule. The next one who throws any animal parts is being strung up in that tree–” Slade stopped to point at the one near them. “– and left in there overnight.”

They sent skeptical looks at him. One that Billy mirrored. 

Medea frowned. “You mean, you’d leave me there for the bears? As bait?” Under her breath, she muttered something about how her mother would never do this to her. 

“Okay,” he amends, “I’ll leave you up there for only a few hours.”

“What if a bear appears?” asks Grant. 

“I’m not that cruel. I won’t let it get you.”

“Really?” signs Joey.

Inwardly, Slade sighed. Why were his children like this?  “Yes.”

“Are you even that great of a shot?” asks Billy. “You’re getting on in your years,” he adds to the giggle of his children. “Is that a white hair I see?”

Slade choked at the indignation. Et tu, Brute? “Says the one with white hair.”

“I’ll have you know I’m a platinum blonde. Though I can't say the same for you.”

His children snickered to his chagrin. 

Thankfully they do take his threat seriously, so no more fish innards are thrown about, nor are any children are strung up by their ankles. 

The next morning, they’d split up like yesterday. As he waited for Grant to join him, he could snippets of the conversation between his children.

“Just you wait, I’m definitely going to catch something!” declares Grant.

“Sure, you are,” signs Joey. The dubious look on his face suggests otherwise. 

“Have some more faith in me. What kind of brother are you anyways?” To Medea, he asks in a serious tone. “Medea, do you believe in me?”

“Of course!” She beamed up at him. 

And wow, was Medea very persuasive. So much that it should be illegal.

Slade already sees a difference in Grant, he was a lot more enthusiastic and hopeful about catching something today than yesterday. 

His optimism didn’t even take a hit when the snares were still empty. Instead, Grant is the one to suggest that they set up snares in a different area, something he agreed with.

There was a motion in the grass. They watched with bated breath to see what would appear. A rabbit ran by quicker than Grant could react. 

Taking note of their surroundings, Slade bent to pick up a pinecone or two before standing again. “Get ready,” he tells him. “When you see it run by, don’t hesitate.” Once Grant nods, he throws the pinecone at where he can see a few hiding. At the sudden noise, a few run out in scattered directions.

Bang. 

“Did you see that?” asks Grant. There’s a spark in his eyes that comes when they approach to see the fallen rabbit. It’s a clean shot, leaving the majority of the meat undamaged. “What do you think?”

Slade can’t help the smile that appears at his enthusiasm. “Well, I think you’ve just caught our lunch. Are you up for a few more?”

Chapter Text

Since knowing Dad’s alias as Deathstroke, he’d also revealed to them the many fake identities he had for himself when they had asked. And apparently, he’d create a multitude for her and her brothers too in the case of emergencies. Off the top of her head, she can name four different ones and recite their life history. In some of them, her brothers and she are related, either as siblings or cousins. In others, they are strangers.

Still, her dad goes through names like crazy. Picking them up like one does with pencils. Some are more permanent than others. He tells them that it’s a side-effect of his job. 

On jobs where he needs temporary ones, he lets her and her brothers come up with names. Practice, he calls it. Though of course, he glances over them before he sends them out to be created. 

“Jason Peters?” asks Dad, glancing at the paper she’d handed him. 

“He’s a nurse,” she tells him seriously. “His coworkers like to call him Jace.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Medi vetoed Jason being a priest,” adds Grant. “Said something about you not looking the part. Though frankly, I think you could, you are old. ”

“Brat.” There’s no bite to his words though. 

Medea wondered if having a multitude of identities was the case with every mercenary and assassin. Except she wasn’t sure she could ask Shiva that.  

It seemed…rude… to ask. 

She soon finds that it was pointless to think that. Because on the rare occasion that both her parents are present in the same area with her, the topic gets brought up.

It’s been a month since she’s set foot in the states, and even longer since she last saw Medea. On the second day of her arrival, she goes to see her youngest for dinner.

Wilson had offered her a ride back to her hotel, though there really hadn’t been a need. She could have caught a cab back herself, but a glance at her Medea had her agreeing. She didn’t mind the extra time with her. 

The car ride is fairly relaxed and while the topic has turned to travel, Shiva turns her head slightly to tell him, “I’m bringing her to China.” 

From the back seat, Medea blinked at the bluntness, though she didn’t say a word in protest. 

“She has school on Monday,” he counters. 

“Private tutors would solve this problem.”

He sighed. “Not this again.”

“You’re being unnecessarily stubborn. But–” Shiva paused for effect. “–who said I was bringing her today?”

Wilson gave her a knowing look before turning his attention back to the wheel.

“Does she have a Chinese passport?”

“Not yet. I assume that you want to handle it then?”

“Correct.” Shiva swivelled to look at Medea. “Remind me to get your passport photo taken soon.”

“Is this a real passport?” ventured Medea after a moment of hesitation. 

Without missing a beat, Shiva answered, “Real. We’ll use your Chinese name as your legal one.” She glanced at him. “Less hassle.” There’s less chance someone will connect her to both of us if she has two different names. 

“Understandable.” I agree. 

“I have a Chinese name?” pipes up Medea from the backseat. 

“You do. It’s Wu Wanmiao.”

She tries her best to mimic the tones of the Chinese words.

“Close,” Shiva repeated the name, emphasizing the tones for her. 

“What about you? Do you have one too?” There’s a touch of hope in her voice. Medea wondered if they were similar. 

Shiva nodded, though she realized the other couldn’t quite see her nod. “Mine is Wu Ruohua.”

“How do you write that?” 

“I’ll show you later once we get back to the hotel when I have paper.” She glanced at Wilson who was waiting for the light to turn green. 

“I don’t mind waiting, we’re not in a hurry.”

“While we’re on the topic of identities,” starts Shiva, “which other ones does she hold?”

“Under which name?”

Privately, Shiva noticed how Medea didn’t seem fazed at his words. “All of them.”

Back at the hotel, Shiva scrutinized the list of countries where Medea held aliases and passports in. “Western names,” she notes. “And Western countries?”

“Easier to connect them to her brothers,” offers Slade. “Especially if they aren’t written down as siblings for all of them.” He does not elaborate on what they are for his sons. 

She nodded in agreement. “Then I can handle the other ones.”

Medea ignores them for the most part, engrossed in her book as the two discuss which countries Shiva will handle and which ones will require another alias for her. 

Then comes a good point. 

Perhaps, it would make sense for the three of them to hold a few aliases in the same countries and have them connected. 

This leads to another long round of discussion and debates, as they both have different ideas on which ones they should choose. Sometime during all this, Medea dozes off, leaning on Shiva, her book long forgotten in her lap. 

Slade almost wished he had taken a photo of the two – there weren’t many photos with the two of them together, not unless you counted that one photo when Medea was a baby. 

It finally ends when Medea sleepily points to a country on their list. “What about that one?” she asks, appearing beside Shiva. “You guys haven’t mentioned it yet.” She covered her mouth as a yawn escaped her. “Are we done yet?”

“Almost, baby.” Medea groggily nodded at his words before closing her eyes again. Slade pondered over her suggestion. “Singapore would work, but they do have national service for men. I don’t have any objections. Do you?”

“None. Besides, it’ll help explain your appearance,” says Shiva wryly. “You’re very…you.”

“Cute. You take note of my appearance?”

Shiva rolled her eyes, taking care not to move too much as Medea had fallen asleep once more beside her. “Anyone with eyes can see the military training in you.”

“Anyone that’s you,” he corrects. “Well, that’s settled then. I can get my contact to handle this one. Any name suggestions?”

Her gaze fell back to their daughter. “I’ll forward the information to you later. What about her?”

“Medea will probably want to choose her name.”

“Oh?”

He shrugged carelessly. “It’s good practice. And of course, I’ll look over it before I send it out.”

“Then I’ll leave it in your hands.” 

Medea stared at the blank piece of paper. Her pen drummed the desk as she tried to come up with some sort of alias. 

All her life she had gone by Medea Wilson. Of course, she had her nicknames, but none of those worked quite well for another alias. 

And this wasn't a temporary one she was creating for Dad. For one, it was for herself; and two, it would become similar to the identities that she had in the case of emergencies. Something a little more permanent.

Medea Wilson. 

Slade Wilson. 

Sandra Wu. 

Hmm…

Wilson. Dad’s surname was common enough. Wu was fairly common too. Maybe she should do something similar for this alias.

Her mind wanders to Uncle Billy. If she added an ‘s’, she’d get Williams. Which could work. 

Now onto the harder choice. A first name. 

Something from Greek mythology is what first pops into her mind. The name, Medea, is rather rare, as was the name, Circe. Diana or Diane, on the other hand, was not as rare. Though Medea was still on the fence about making it her final choice.

As she pondered over her top three choices, a childhood memory came to mind. She had a brief obsession with Sailor Moon for a bit, even going as far as dressing up as one of the sailor scouts for Halloween. Wasn’t the protagonist loosely based on a Greek myth too? 

A quick search on the internet tells her that it was and a grin appears as she finally decides on a name to go by. 

Selene Willaims. 

And if her initials were similar to certain people, so what? It was just a coincidence. 

Dad only hums in approval when she gives him her name. As he had waited for her to come up with her name first, he only wrote in a first name for himself before sending in the necessary information to his contact alongside what Mom had sent him.

It takes about two weeks for the IDs to come back. When it came in, Dad let her take a glance at the documents to ensure that everything ordered had arrived. And it seemed to be the case. Everything was in order, except oh–

Aside from the birth certificates, passports and other papers, there was an extra sheet in the envelope. Pulling it out, Medea found that it was a marriage licence between her parents’ aliases. Weird. She doesn’t remember anyone ordering that, and she was quite sure that Dad hadn’t written that down either. She checked the list he’d given her and found that her original assumption was correct. 

“Hey, Dad? They sent something extra,” she calls out.

From his spot on the sofa, Slade got up to peek over her shoulder. “Huh, interesting.” And that was all he said. His reaction told her he was surprised to see it too. 

“Do I show Mom?” 

“Go ahead. Ask your mother what she wants to do with it.”

Mom had a similar reaction, though with more words. “Tell your father that we should have used my contact instead.”

Neither of them does anything to fix it. So the licence remains, with their story altering slightly to accommodate for that.

Her mother’s name is Evelyn Sun and she is originally from Singapore. Her parents meet while Evelyn is in England pursuing a post-secondary education. Her father on the other hand is named Jack Williams, a Canadian working overseas when he meets her mother. 

They marry and live in Singapore, with Jack renouncing his Canadian citizenship in favour of a Singaporean one. About two years into their marriage, Selene Williams is born, and she is their only child. 

The Williams family spends their time primarily in Singapore and during the holidays, they will return to Toronto to visit Jack’s side of the family. 

There are still a few things left in the states for her to take care of before she leaves. 

As she slipped out of her room for the night, Shiva decided to go for a walk to clear her head. She finds herself wandering around the streets of Hub City. The late hour made the streets fairly empty, something she was glad for. Less busy bodies hanging around. 

Turning a corner, Shiva paused at the noise. Glancing up, she caught the sight of masked black figures moving across the city skyline just in time. 

How peculiar. 

It seemed that crime never rested in the city either. Maybe she should follow along and see what the commotion was.  

Moments later, she doesn’t know if she should regret her decision. 

She’d been impulsive. Following a hunch, she found what the figures had been locating. The one person that she didn’t know how to deal with. Cassandra. The one that had run from Cain years ago.

As Cassandra slumbers, Shiva kept watch. 

No more threats to the girl. She’d already handled the figures before they’d even be able to get close. 

A decision is made as Shiva observes her surroundings. For tonight, the girl would be safe. 

Tomorrow, she’d leave hints. 

She may not be in the best position to care for her, but surely she could still help. 

There was no need for her to be on the streets. 

But it seems that fate had other plans. Somewhere in the background was a particularly loud sound, one loud enough to wake the dead. Cassandra’s eyes shot open in a panic as she looked for the source. And as she glanced around, their gazes met. In the next instant, her eyes widened. Her mouth opened and no sound came out.

Wordlessly, Shiva offered her a hand up. 

After a long moment of hesitation, she took it.  

It is just another weekend with Mom, thinks Medea as Slade dropped her off at her mother’s place. That was until she entered the home. 

She stared at the other occupant of the house, the older girl stared back, equally mystified by her presence. Medea swivelling back to look at her mom. 

Unphased, Shiva gestures to each of them, “Medea, Cassandra. Your half-sister. Where are your manners, Medea?”

“Hello,” she tries. “It’s nice to meet you.”

The girl smiles hesitantly and waves. 

She and her half-sister don’t look very much alike. They have Shiva’s colouring and some of her features, of which only some are shared between the three of them. Like Shiva’s nose and her cheekbones. 

Their most noticeable difference might be their eyes. Medea has her mother’s eyes –sharp and double eye-lids– but her eyes are the same striking blue as her father’s. Cassandra shares the same dark brown as Shiva, but their shape is kinder? No, they are softer. 

The weekend is by far the most interesting and awkward she’s had at her mother’s place. 

Cassandra or Cass as she prefers is nice. Or Medea thinks she is, they don’t really talk. Well, Cass prefers to sign. Her room is right across from hers and they are fairly quiet as they head into their rooms on Friday night. 

She assumes that it is the last of their communication for the night, but apparently not. A light knock on her door reveals Cass behind it. “Did you want me to turn it down? Sorry, I should have brought headphones,” says Medea, pausing the music on her tablet.

But Cass shakes her head and signs, “Come in?”

“Okay.” She opened the door a little wider to let her in. “I’m just picking a song. My coach sent me a few to pick from.”

She tilts her head curiously in question. 

“For figure skating.” At her blank look, Medea turned the screen toward her and typed the words in. “Looks like this,” she says as she showed her one of the first videos that popped up.

Her mouth made an ‘oh’ shape. And her hands rose as Cass quickly signed, “Can you do all that too?”

She shook her head. “Nothing that impressive, I’m still learning.” 

“Do you have any videos?”

“Oh.” Sheepishly, Medea admits, “Not of me,” to Cass’ disappointment. Feeling guilty, she offers, “I can show you videos of other people skating if you want?”

Her half-sister beamed. 

As Medea wanders out into the kitchen in the early morning, she’s surprised to only see Mom. “Morning,” she mumbled.

“Late night?” asks Shiva. 

“Something like that,” she says, muffling a yawn. “I was trying to find a song for my solo. Think I finally narrowed it down. Cass helped.” Last night, they had spent countless hours looking at figure skating videos before they remembered the real reason she’d been listening to music.

Mom made a faint hum of acknowledgement. “And what have you chosen?”

“Le–” Medea couldn’t help the yawn. “Le Cygne.” She blinked tiredly at Mom, there was a tension in her that she tried to read. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. It’s still early. Go back to bed, little witch.” When she didn’t move from her spot, Shiva gently nudged her in the direction of her room. “Rest.”

“Okay.”

The rest of her weekend passes in a new, but mostly nice fashion. 

Mom trains as usual, and sometimes Medea will join her, but she finds herself observing Cass when she’s up against their mother. Cass has a much better grasp of her ability than her. Except, in the end, Shiva is the one who understands how to use it best. 

It’s in the way, Mom moves lazily in the spar before she strikes. She runs circles around both of them.

Mostly nice comes from the fact that Mom is out of the house a lot more too. On Saturday, she leaves in the early afternoon and doesn’t appear until it is dinner. Medea doesn’t like it – she wants to spend time with her, especially since she leaves Sunday afternoon. But it’s clear that Mom wants the space. No, she needs it. 

Almost nothing escapes Cass. “Ask her to stay,” she signs. 

Medea shook her head. “She’s Lady Shiva.” An answer that has Cass frowning. “I bet you haven’t seen this yet,” she says, trying to distract her. 

And while Cass finds figure skating impressive, it is ballet where she falls in love. So they watch the classic performances. Swan Lake. Nutcracker. 

Like her, they both pick up things extremely fast and she pulls Medea to the training room eagerly, wanting to recreate one of the solos from the videos. Of course, it’s nothing compared to the professionals, but it’s fun to pretend.

They’ve been playing Le Cygne over and over now. 

Medea thinks Cass is graceful beyond human limits, inadvertently making her feel like a klutz beside her. Her coach would probably cry tears of joy at how well Cass mimicked the ballerina’s delicateness in the video. 

One day, she vowed to herself. One day, she’d be able to do the same, but on ice.

Sunday afternoon is almost bittersweet when she has to part ways. 

“Promise?” signs Cass. 

Medea nodded. “I’ll practice that solo. And you'll be here the next time I visit?”

She nods. 

With a quick goodbye to Mom, she hurried out the front door and toward the waiting car.

“How was your visit?” asks Dad as she slid into the car. “Buckle up.” The moment she did, he started the car. 

“I have a half-sister now. She was pretty nice.” 

“I see.” He didn’t seem too surprised, so Medea wondered if he had known of her too. “Older, I presume?”

“Older. Wait, how'd you know?” She turned to him with narrowed eyes. “Wait, have you been lying all these years? Can you actually read minds?” This explained so much!

“No. Let’s just call it a hunch.” At her look, he concedes, “Okay, fine. I knew she had another child, but that was all.”

Medea harrumphed. “Why does Joey get all the cool powers? This is blatant favouritism, Dad.”

“Genetics don’t work that way.”

“Whatever you say.”

The corner of his lip twitched. “I hope you weren’t too disappointed then.” At her confusion, he added, “When you were younger, you asked me specifically for a younger sister.”

Medea coughed in surprise. “What? I don’t remember that.”

“I think you were under the impression that babies just appeared on doorsteps. Though that might have been your brothers’ influence.” He gives her a serious look. “You’re old enough now, you know–”

 Her cheeks flushed red as she blurted out, “Dad! We’re not having the talk!”

“It was pretty funny. And when you were younger, you thought Grant was a cannibal at one point too.”

“Daddd!”

Slade only laughed harder, ignoring her adorable pouts. 

Chapter Text

Cass keeps her promise. She is there for the next visit. And the ones that follow.  

Medea brings along videos of her skating that Dad had taken from her practices and events. She makes sure to show her solo where Cass had helped her pick the song. 

Medea had attempted to mimic her sister’s natural grace to the best of her abilities. It paled in comparison to Cass, but still, her sister’s body radiates pride and joy as she watches. 

It becomes their thing. With how many ballet videos they watch, Medea remembers why she had fallen in love with the dance back then. Watching Cass perform is like watching the dancers in St. Petersburg all over again. 

And as much as Cass enjoys performing, she also likes to draw Medea into it. It’s more fun if they do it together, her sister tells her. Over the course of her visits, they practically perfect that one solo from their first meeting. Soon, they look for other ones. As of currently, Cass was adamant they learn Odette and Odile’s respective variations from Swan Lake. 

But no matter how hard she tries, Medea forlornly thinks she’ll never match Cass’ grace. It comes to her naturally, like breathing air. 

Her sister shakes her head when she complains. They have their different strengths, Cass explains. And of course, she uses ballet as an analogy. Where Cass excels in portraying Odette, Medea excels in portraying Odile.

There is something to be said that the role is traditionally played by the same ballerina.

Of course, Medea is eager to share skating with her. To her delight, Cass becomes her only sibling to enjoy it as much as her. While her brothers support her passion, Joey prefers to watch from the sidelines while Grant is more of a hockey player. 

Medea drags her out to the rinks, where they go to public skating first to get Cass accustomed to the ice. Very quickly, they go to drop-in sessions specifically for figure skating and just like her, her sister is a fast learner. 

Giggles and secretive smiles are exchanged between them when the coaches try to scout Medea for their skating clubs. They are always disappointed when she explains she’s not looking to change coaches, so they turn to Cass. Unfortunately for them, Cass always refuses, getting Medea to interpret her signs for her. 

Sometimes when they are feeling in the mood for something more chaotic, they go rollerblading. Neither of them are very good at it at first and it takes a few tries before they get the hang of it. 

The rinks they go to are packed and it becomes more trouble than it’s worth to read everyone’s tells, so they settle for simply surviving their experience.

Still, as much as Medea enjoys having a sister, she wishes that it didn’t come at the cost of her relationship with her mother. 

Shiva is unpredictable. There are times when she is a little more like the mother that Medea has become accustomed to. Other times, her mother is closed off and she can’t even begin to guess what goes on in Shiva’s mind. 

Something is up and she doesn’t like it.

Not of the pain that flashes in Maman’s eyes when someone at the rink refers to Medea and Cass as the talented sisters. 

Or how the tension seems to grow between her mother and her sister with each visit. 

Whatever the disagreement is, they won’t let her in on it. Medea almost dreads meal times now, it is rarely the comfortable silence or the small talk that she is used to. 

Still, whatever it is, they seem to agree to put the matter to the side as summer approaches.

Her parents have an agreement of sorts. Medea is young, as much as their hopes for her future clash, they do agree that she should get an education first. Mom suggests private tutors, Dad suggests continuing public school. For once, she gets a say and Medea makes the final decision. 

She attends public school and lives with her father for most of the year. Although Dad still works, he doesn’t take contracts that are quite so far from home during the school year. And in between contracts, he trains and teaches her a variety of ways to defend herself. 

Her dad easily throws her off and Medea lands with a loud thud on the mat. 

“Try again,” says Slade. “Put all your strength into it. You won’t hurt a fly if you use that little strength.”

At that, she made a face –she’s got enough bruises for a lifetime–and gingerly gets up. 

He waits until she nods to show that she’s ready before he moves. She does too. 

This time she does as he says, Medea throws all her force into it. And maybe too much force is put into it. Especially when Dad lets out a grunt. Hurt, he’s hurt!  

Instantly, Medea backs away, horrified. “I didn’t mean to, Dad!” 

Dad stares at her then back at his arm. Rather than being angry or yelling at her, he laughs. “It’s fine. I wasn’t expecting that–”

“But I broke your arm,” she says, on the verge of tears. “I’m sorry, Dad!” 

Noticing her fear, Slade instantly stopped laughing and approached her. “Hey, kiddo. It’s alright. I promise that. You know I heal fast, remember?”

Medea nods, albeit hesitantly. 

“Why don’t we take a break?” he asks kindly. With his non-injured hand, he offers it to her. “Come on, I may or may not know where the last two ice cream bars are.”

Hands on her hips, she frowned. “Now you’re just trying to distract me.” 

“Well, is it working?”

“...sort of.”

Slade didn’t bother hiding the laugh when she took his hand.  

To put it kindly, Slade is a mess. Or he will be more of a mess as summer approaches. Shiva and him had come to an agreement about Medea. For almost the entirety of summer, Medea won’t be with him. Instead, she’ll be with Shiva. And likely her older half-sister as well.

This will mark the first time he’s been away from his daughter for so long. Of course, Slade tries to remember the benefits of not having to care for a small child. For one, Deathstroke is no longer restricted to how far he can operate. He can pretty much operate as he did back then, jumping from contract to contract, with the exception of meeting with Joey. Though he’s sure he can plan his jobs around him. 

Grant had turned eighteen barely a month ago. And it came to nobody’s surprise that he wanted to make the switch from Red X to Ravager. From a skilled thief to a mercenary. Summer meant that Deathstroke had an apprentice to train – to ensure that his eldest won’t make the same mistakes he did. He’ll be better, he vows. 

Traitorously, his mind reminds him of Medea’s upcoming absence. It’ll be nothing like the occasional weekend away at her mother’s. With the general plans Shiva had mentioned, he knows that they’re leaving the states. 

Yes, he misses the thrill of the hunt. The adrenaline rush. But his love for his children is equally if not more strong. 

He plans for the worst-case scenario. Call him overprotective, but he incorporates trackers into an array of jewellery. He cannot lose them – especially if it could have been easily avoided. They’re hidden cleverly in necklaces, bracelets and rings. 

The idea has been floating around in his head for quite a while, but it only came to fruition with Grant’s transition from Red X to Ravager. 

Knowing his children, it’d be much easier if he simply didn’t tell them, but he couldn’t go through with that idea. After all, he did promise them honesty. 

As expected, his children have a mixed bag of reactions. 

“It’s dramatic is what it is,” says Joey through his sub-vocal mic. “Medi, tell him that this is a bit too much.”

Medea is about to nod in agreement when Grant speaks up. “And the name Deathstroke isn’t? Still, you can’t blame him. This will mark the first summer we’ll all be separated. Medi, go tell Joey that he’s being too blasé about this.”

Caught in the middle, his youngest looks between the two and almost silently pleads for Slade to help her. 

As much as he wanted to help, Slade wasn’t sure if he could interfere safely. 

“Medi, tell Grant he’s being stu–” Joey hastily catches his slip up and amends, “–silly.”

“Joey’s the one that’s not making sense.”

“Well?”

As his sons waited for an answer, Medea looked at him, face serious and said, “Dad, I want to go visit Mom.”

Redirection. Smart. It was a pity that the stars weren’t aligned in her favour. “I’m sure she’d enjoy your visit, baby. But I think Sandra’s still in Malaysia.”

She pouted to his amusement. 

Eventually, Slade’s able to come to a compromise of sorts. The trackers work both ways. Not only can he track their location, but they can also track him. 

“Because Uncle Billy says you make silly decisions sometimes,” says Medea with a glint of mischief in his eyes. 

“Yeah, I believe it,” says Grant, quick to jump on the train. Joey is quick to follow. 

Even as he groans at the statement, he won’t lie and say that he’s not relieved to hear their agreement to wear it during the summer. 

Medea realizes very quickly that Dad is worried. As he pulls up to the airport, instead of unlocking the car doors, he turns to her with the most serious expression she’s ever seen. 

“You can contact me no matter what, I don't care if you think it’s silly. I’ll be the judge of that.”

She nods. “Okay.”

There was a hint of uncertainty before he spoke again. “Medea, it’s okay to be afraid.” At her confusion, he continues, “I want you to promise, in the event that something happens and you’re in over your head, run. Don’t give me that look, now. I know what your brothers have been saying as a joke–, about Wilsons never backing down– but I don’t care for it. You are so much more important to me alive than dead. All of you are. Do you understand?”

“I understand.”

“Good.”

Dad gives off so many tells. From what she could infer, this trip terrified him. Or rather the numerous possibilities of what could go wrong scared her dad. For one, he wouldn’t be there and this was the longest time she’d be away from him. From the rest of her family. 

Medea wonders if this was what prompted the change when he trained her. For the most part, she’s taught self-defence, or how to escape. But recently he’d started teaching her more permanent methods. It is nowhere near the level that Grant or Joey knows, but Medea is taught how to fire a gun and the many weak points of the human body.

"Only if there is no other way out," he said as he taught her where to aim for the most damage. 

She’s lost in thought as Dad grabs her suitcase, drops it at the counter and goes along with her to where she’d be meeting her mother and sister. 

Cass is somewhere in the distance, waiting; but for once, Medea isn’t in a hurry to leave her dad. 

“I’ll miss you,” she says, shifting from one foot to another. 

He turns to face her, passing her ticket into her hand. “What’s wrong, baby?”

Without another word, Medea took a step and hugged him tightly, wanting to remember everything about him. “You’ll be safe, right?”

A chuckle leaves him as he wraps an arm around her. “It’s going to take a lot to bring me down. But I’ll miss you too.”

She hummed but didn’t let go just yet. It was comforting to be surrounded by his warmth.

“Je t’aime, ma princesse,” he murmurs. 

It’s going to be strange, not seeing him for such a long period. With that thought, Medea holds onto him for just a second longer before she releases him. “Je t’aime, Papa.”

He gives her a soft smile and watches as she meets up with Mom. 

For the summer, Medea is her mother’s child. 

Quite literally in a sense. During their travels, Medea is not Medea Wilson. According to her passport, she is Wu Wanmiao. 

Cass has another name too. They all do. 

They travel around Asia. In Japan, they meet a man that Shiva introduces as O-sensei, a former teacher of hers. Somehow it seems like a baffling concept because Medea can’t picture her mother ever having been a student. There are days that Shiva seems to be a warrior who simply appeared on Earth.

Like Athena, she thinks, born fully grown and dressed ready for battle.

“You’re much too formal, Sandra,” chides the elderly man, smiling at them. “They’re only children.”

“It’s precisely because they are young that they should learn early.”

His eyes seemed to twinkle with mirth. “You are the same as ever.” 

They only stay at the dojo for a few days before Shiva has them whisked off to China. Briefly, they stop in a small village that Mom offhandedly mentions as where her sister and her had come from.

There isn’t much to see there, so they merely pass by and continue their journey. 

Just because it’s summer and they are with them doesn’t mean Shiva stops working. Sometimes, she’s on a job and the two of them are left to their own devices. During those times, Medea and Cass wander down the streets exploring the city. 

In Beijing, they explore the forbidden city. Once during the daytime as tourists with her sister. Here, they blend amongst the visitors wandering around. Later Mom chuckles when Medea sheepishly tells her that Cass and her had accidentally wandered into a closed-off area. 

It really was an accident, Mom!

Two days later, they return in the night with Shiva. Somehow, her mother managed to snag three tickets to a private event. There are considerably fewer people than during the day, and Medea says nothing when Shiva accidentally leads them into a part of the palace that is closed to the public. 

Or how their attempts to retrace their steps take a route that is longer than earlier.

They travel to different parts of China, sometimes they stay for a day, and other times they stay longer. Still, Medea can’t help but miss her father. The new sights and constant travelling helps distract her a little, but not enough to fully dissipate her homesickness.  

Mom doesn’t say anything besides handing a phone to her before she leaves that night. That night when Cass is asleep and Mom is out doing whatever it is she does, Medea sits out on the balcony and clicks on her dad’s name. 

The chat history reveals semi-frequent exchanges about her parents. Though curious, Medea doesn’t scroll through it, but she does scowl when she sees a picture of her passed out from the long train ride sent to her dad. 

Considering she has no idea what country he’s in, nor what he’s up to, Medea tentatively texts him a request to call if he’s free. Within moments, the phone in her hand rings.

“Yes? What is it?” He sounds frazzled. “Did something happen?”

Had he been sleeping? Or was he in the middle of a job? Medea definitely feels guilty now. “Sorry Dad, I didn’t mean to bother. I can call back later.”

“Medea.” The relief is clear in his voice. “No, no, I’m not busy. It’s still early in the afternoon for me. How have you been?”

“Good. I just…” I really miss you. “Just feeling a little homesick,” she admits after a moment. “It’s been a nice trip so far.”

“Yeah? Why don’t you tell me what you’ve been up to?”

She hums in agreement. The tight knot in her chest unravels as they chat. Medea doesn’t feel quite as homesick as he tells her a more child-approved version of what he’s been up to, or when he passes the phone to Grant for a bit. 

And when it starts to get late on her end, Dad is the one that persuades her to go to bed. 

“You can tell me about it next time, but you should really head to bed. It’s past your bedtime.”

Medea glanced at the clock and wondered how he knew. “It’s not that late,” she tries. 

“Baby, it’s almost 1 am. Go to bed.” 

She frowned at how he was correct. He most definitely had powers. How else would he know?

“China has the same time zone throughout,” he says with a chuckle. “I know what you’re thinking, but I’m not a mind reader.”

Liar. That’s exactly what a mind reader would say.

As it nears the end of August, they end up in a more rural part of China, where Shiva mentions that they are going to visit someone. 

“A friend?” signs Cass. 

Medea remembers how Dad rarely refers to people as friends. “An acquaintance?” she guesses. It could be an assassin thing. 

The corner of Shiva’s lips twitched at their answers. “Something like that. They are rather eccentric, so keep an open mind.”

Even with that statement, Medea is anything but prepared when she meets Mom’s friends/acquaintances. 

“Shiva, you didn’t de-age, and also clone yourself, right?” asks a man, staring at the two of them.  

Medea stares blankly at the man. Mom was right, they were eccentric. Except Medea doesn’t like how Cass pales and pushes her behind her. “Cass–”

Her sister stares at the man, and everything in her body language screams that she is ready for a fight. “You.” It’s only a single word, but she’s never heard such venom in her sister’s voice before. 

“Oh my god.” The man practically pales as recognition fills his eyes. “You.”

“What is the meaning of this?” says Shiva, as she strolls in with another of her acquaintances. 

What follows is a tense conversation about brainwashing and training so harsh that Medea can’t help but hug Cass, wishing she could hug her sadness away. 

It’s a general rule of thumb that they don’t talk about Cass’ father – one Medea never asks her mother or her sister to elaborate. All Medea knows from Cass is that he wasn’t a kind man and living on the run was preferable to being with him. From snippets of hushed conversations between Dad and Uncle Billy, she learns Cain is an assassin. 

Mom and Richard talk in hushed tones while Medea studies the gravel by her feet in feigned interest.  

It ends with Cass and the eccentric man called Ben talking in hushed tones with each other, and they return a little less tense. Wary as Cass is, she no longer looks ready to attack the man, or spirit Medea away at the slightest hint of danger. 

“I still have to ask though, are you sure you didn’t clone a younger version of you?” asks Ben as he points to Medea. “She frowns exactly like you, Shiva–” Before he could continue, the other man cuffs the back of his head. “Richard! What?”

“Don’t ask stupid questions, Ben.”

“It’s not stupid. It’s entirely valid.”

Richard simply raised an eyebrow at him before turning to her mother with exasperation. “You know how he is. Please don’t take it to heart.” 

“I’m glad to see that you’re back to your usual self, Ben.” A wry smile appeared on Shiva’s face. 

“I don’t believe for a second that she isn’t a clone. She probably already knows ten different ways to take me out.”

“You’re underestimating her. I’d add another five to the list.”

“Shiva, in no way does that disprove my theory.”

“You already know that Cassandra is mine. Why is it hard to believe that Medea is also my daughter?”

“Stop being so rude, Ben,” chastises Richard. His gaze slides to her and her sister. “You’ll have to forgive him, he has his moments. We’re working on his manners,” he says, lips in a half-smile.

Cass nodded solemnly, though Medea could sense the slight amusement in her. 

His gaze met hers and it lingered. “You look familiar.” He seemed to be searching for something as he took in her appearance.

Medea tilted her head and focused. “You do look familiar,” she agrees. “Have we met?” She wrinkled her nose as she tried to think where she might have met him. 

A curious look appears on Shiva’s face. “I was unaware your father had introduced you to others.”

“I don’t think Dad has.” It was the truth, before he’d revealed his identity as Deathstroke, he hadn’t. Even afterwards, he didn’t. It was a running joke between her brothers and her that the only friend that Dad has is Uncle Billy. Then the recognition hits her. There had been an acquaintance when they were overseas once– could it have been him?

At the same time, the man seems to recognize her. Curiously enough, the man slowly turns to Shiva. “You didn’t kidnap her, right? My life just might be hanging by a thread now.”

She rolled her eyes. “Dramatic as ever, Richard. You’re almost as hopeless as Ben.”

“Excuse me?” squawks Ben in protest. 

Mom and Richard ignored him in favour of continuing their conversation. 

“He threatened my life,” says Richard slowly. “And you didn’t answer my question.”

“Different people show their affection differently.”

“Shiva…”

“Perhaps you deserved it.” The corner of her lips twitches ever so slightly. 

Though practically isolated from the rest of the world, their stay at the cabin is nice. 

It takes some time, but Cass warms up to Ben after a few days. She stops following the man’s every move with her eyes after two days.

Richard is amicable enough with Cass, but it takes him a few more days to warm up to Medea. He only relaxes after a few days once there’s no sign of Medea’s dad threatening his life. 

Mom thinks he’s ridiculous for worrying while Medea found herself pondering over the matter. Was it wrong of her to feel comforted by the knowledge that her father was willing to kill to keep his children safe? A part of her says no because her family is anything but normal, and it is silly to judge it by civilian standards. 

From across the room, Ben stubs his toe and curses as he hobbles to a chair.  

Medea giggles under her breath. 

Hearing her, he turns to see her and Cass playing chess. “Don’t repeat that. Your mother will have my hide.”

They nod and frankly, Medea thinks she’s heard similar things if not worse from her dad and Uncle Billy. 

It takes a little more than two weeks before whatever peace there is at the cabin is destroyed. 

At first, Medea doesn’t blink when Mom announces she’ll be gone for the day for an errand. It’s nothing out of the ordinary, so she simply nods. 

Cass and her don’t mean to eavesdrop, but perhaps Richard and Ben forget that they have two children who aren’t exactly normal either. Cain’s name is mentioned, as is Mom’s.

Cass rushes out, not sparing her another glance. Ben curses up a storm and Richard begs Medea to stay, promising to bring both Shiva and Cass back. Not that Medea gets a choice, Ben stays behind to ensure that she stays regardless. 

Cain. 

That vile man . 

They’d been careful, Wilson and her. They knew the dangers that would surround Medea if Cain discovers her existence. And it was a short-lived success. Despite their best efforts, the news that Shiva has two daughters escapes. Of course, she nips it in the bud, but she knows just as well that it’s merely a matter of time before Cain learns. 

There is a reason that Shiva had brought both of them to Richard’s cabin. As dangerous as Cain is, he isn’t stupid. Attacking three of the world’s strongest fighters is a stupid move. 

Shiva is equal parts furious and fearful. If he could kill Carolyn with no hesitation, then he would have no problem killing Medea. After all, he was obsessed with the idea of The One Who Is All. Cain would go to any means to ensure that Cassandra was the only one to inherit her ability.  

Cassandra is safe because, at the end of the day, Cain believes she’ll come back to him. 

He is a fool, a dangerous one.

There are many reasons to wish his death at her hands. And Carolyn’s death is merely the tip of the iceberg.

Shiva leaves her daughters behind to finish what she should have done years ago.

Cain laughs as they engage in a fight, he doesn’t understand yet why she wants him dead. To her irritation, before she can deal a fatal blow to him, her eldest interferes. 

Instead of death, Cain falls off the roof they were on. Shiva glances down to see the man unconscious. Knowing him, she only has a short window. Her gaze flickers back to Cassandra. “You already know my reputation. Lady Shiva is not a saint.” This would not be the first time they had this conversation. 

“No.”

“Even if it’s for you?” she says, the half-lie slipping out of her mouth. “Not even if it’s for mine ?” Or Medea’s? 

“No killing.” 

Shiva couldn’t help the wave of irritation that she felt when she found that Cain had disappeared. “Not tonight,” she amends. At her eldest’s confusion, she gestures to the space below. “You are still young. The world is not as black and white as you’d like to believe.”

“But?”

“I admire your conviction. You have strong beliefs. Don’t ever let anyone sway you.”

“Even you?”

She smiles. Not the kind ones that are almost reserved for Medea. It’s one of cruelty, one that doesn’t bother coating the truth more softly. “Yes.” Shiva moves faster than her eldest can blink, swiftly moving to knock her out. 

There is no point in hunting down Cain now. He is likely well on his way now to lick his wounds. 

Next time, she vowed, he wouldn’t be so lucky.

“You shouldn’t have let her follow,” she tells Richard when he appears mere seconds later. 

“Is he–” he asks, referring to Cain.

“No.” Not yet. 

There is something in the air. A sense of finality. 

It’s been lingering ever since Shiva and Richard return with an unconscious Cass. Shiva mutters something about exterminating a pest. 

All Medea can do is piece together what she hears and what she knows. 

Cass’ father was in town. Mom went out to find him. They must have fought, and Cass left to stop them. Judging by Shiva’s expression, Cain must still be alive, though not for lack of trying. 

Did Cain hurt Cass? Or judging by Cass’ look when she wakes, she wonders if it was Shiva or Richard.

Medea doesn’t know how to explain it, but she knows deep down in her bones that this trip is not quite over, even if it is completed in theory. Dad is supposed to pick her up from Mom’s place soon. 

Cass and Shiva attempt to avoid doing it in front of her, but she still catches bits of them. 

“Not a destroyer.”

“Oh? Those training bags would beg to differ.”

Cassandra stared, a frown on her face. “I–”

Shiva held out a hand to interrupt and looked past her sister to stare straight at her. “Medea, don’t linger, it’s rude.”

The conversation is tabled when she sheepishly reveals herself from the roof. She hadn’t meant to eavesdrop, but it was too awkward to move off once they started talking. 

The night before Dad arrives, things come to a tumultuous crescendo. 

Cass is in her room and for once, she doesn’t knock on Medea’s room for company. Carefully, Medea creeps into Cass’ room to see her sister packing a variety of things in her bag. 

“You’re leaving.”

Startled, Cass turns. Her hands twitch as if wanting to sign a million different things, but in the end, she settles for a curt nod. 

“Tonight?”

Another nod. “I’m sorry, I can’t stay. Not anymore,” she signs. “I need to do this myself.” 

“Because of her?”

Cass doesn’t nod, but her silence is enough of an answer. She holds out a hand as if to ask her to come with. 

Medea shakes her head. “I can’t. I’m sorry.”

Before her sister leaves, Medea presses the number of the burner phone acquired during their trip into her hand. “To keep in touch. Please?”

Cass smiles – this one, genuine – and throws her arms around Medea. “Little-sister,” she murmurs. “Take care.”

“Stay safe, please. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“Silly.” Cass taps her nose playfully. “Not goodbye forever,” she signs

Nobody interrupts them when they exchange their farewells and promises in the dark. Medea knows the two of them too well. Cass won’t ask to stay, not after her mind has been made up. Nor will Mom ask her to do so. 

Medea stays out there until Cass is no longer visible in the dark. As she turns to head back inside, she doesn’t scream, but she does tense when she sees Mom standing in the doorway. 

Shiva glances past her –in the direction where Cass had gone off in. There’s a mix of tells coming from her, ones that she can’t identify. But there is a quiet acceptance of Cass’ departure. “Cassandra doesn’t understand. Well, not entirely.”

Medea didn’t say a word, but she did glance at her as a way to gesture to acknowledge her words. 

“Shiva is many things. A destroyer,” says Shiva gesturing to herself. “But he can also be a protector. Like her. Or a creator, like you.”

“You’re more than a destroyer,” she offers after a moment. 

“Perhaps.” There’s a slight pause before she speaks, “Let’s not talk of such heavy topics. Shall we head in?” She holds out a hand to Medea.

“Maman, will she…do you think she will return?” She takes it tentatively. 

“Perhaps. But she needs to find her own path first.” 

This is maybe the first time that Mother has lied to her. Cass won’t come back.

And despite Cassandra’s earlier promises, Medea knows deep down that her sister won’t visit her here.  

Not for the first time, she wishes she could turn her ability off. The two of them are liars, yet Medea wishes she could be oblivious to it and believe that they were telling her the truth.

Chapter Text

There’s a burner phone on the kitchen counter. One that’s constantly kept fully charged. 

Not one of his, nor Grant’s. Instead, it’s Medea. 

Shiva and he had agreed to give her one after they noticed how she acted during the trip. On speed dial are two numbers. One of his, and one of hers. 

Since her return from her summer trip, Medea checks it every day, and every day she’s left disappointed. 

She asks him once to show her how to check if her phone is working properly. A pang of guilt –even though it isn’t his fault – runs through Slade when he agrees and demonstrates it by calling her phone from his. 

It’s only the beginning of her peculiar behaviour. 

Medea has adored ballet as a toddler, and it had come back full force with the appearance of her half-sister. Slade can’t count the number of times she used to watch videos, trying to mimic ballet dances before coming to find him once she’d perfected it. 

Swan Lake had been a favourite of hers, and she performed both parts for him. Though Slade never said it out loud, he thought the black swan had suited her better. Medea danced it with a touch of playfulness and a flair of arrogance, breathing life into the role more than she ever did with the white swan.

Except these days, the white swan lived solely in his memories; if she would dance, rare as it was, then it’d be the black swan. 

Another thing was that his youngest is clingy. It’s almost like Medea is worried that either he or her brothers would disappear should she leave their side for too long. Joey and Grant are still young and busy, they don’t mind. Rather they like having her around, content to play the cool older sibling when they are home. 

But Slade worries, as much as he enjoys having her help when he tinkers on his cars, he thinks he should broach the topic with her soon. It isn’t good for her, even if her brothers indulge her whims. Eventually, things will change.  

It’s why he isn’t phased when he feels a pair of eyes watching him make coffee. Slade sighs inwardly after he’s finished his cup and she’s still watching him. Except now, she’s moved into his vision, quietly reading on the couch. 

“I’m heading out for groceries. Do you want to come?” The words are scarcely out when she’s on her feet, book forgotten. 

Yeah, this was a problem. 

Normally, she never dropped a book so quickly. It was a herculean task on a good day. 

Slade waits until they return home before he dares to broach the topic. But somehow before he can even ask, she beats him to it, asking if she could confide in him about her summer.

It doesn’t take much to get the entire story from her, as vague as it is. 

It’s not that she hides things from him, but that Medea didn’t know the entire gist of things. Probably for good reason too. Still, it ends with Cassandra leaving on her own terms and the fact that Medea knew that Shiva and Cassandra had tried –and failed– to soften the blow for her.

Not for the first time, he wished Medea didn’t inherit Shiva’s ability; it was a double-edged sword at times.

“I don’t want to choose between any of you,” she admits.

“I won’t ask you to. Nor will your mother.” That much he was sure of. 

A weak smile is all that Medea gives him, telling him that someone had asked her to. Her half-sister, perhaps? 

Absentmindedly, Slade wonders if he’s allowed to ask Shiva for more about this. Cain is a growing potential problem, he has been ever since Medea was born. Unfortunately, he’s also connected to Cassandra, a half-sibling whose relationship with Medea seems to grow more precarious with each day. 

He tries his best to soothe her worries, and all he can hope now is that it was enough.

Summer was nice, being able to travel with Mom, but Medea won’t lie, she misses her brothers fiercely and is determined to make up for the lost time with them. And…and it was easier to soothe the sting when a certain phone never rang. 

With Grant’s graduation in June, he made the switch from Red X to Ravager. For him, summer was his first foray into being a mercenary. And when September rolls around, he’s at home a lot more now and she enjoys it. During the school year, Dad tends to stick to shorter jobs, ones that don’t have him gone for weeks. 

Except this isn’t as interesting for Grant, not when her eldest brother has got a taste of being a mercenary, hopping from one job to the next during the summer.  

With so much free time on his hands, Grant turns his attention to certificates. Her brother has a variety of licences that he’s earned. From owning firearms to how to pilot a plane. 

Dad gives him a look when he gets one for bartending. “I hope you remember your brother and your sister are underage. As are you.”

“I’m a responsible adult. I wouldn’t make drinks for them.” When Dad has his back turned, Grant winks at her, though he quickly gives Dad his best innocent look when he looks back at him. “Underage drinking is a big no from me, sir.”

“And who was it that said they had been left unsupervised last time?”

“It was one time!” he complains. “Besides, that was years ago.”

Grant keeps his promise, he makes her the best mocktails and it’s fun to pretend. 

Still, some of his licences are weird. Medea’s unsure when he’ll need one for clairvoyance. When she asks, he grins and says, “I’ve foreseen it in my future.”

Joey doesn’t visit quite as often, citing one project or another that he’s working on, so as his siblings, it falls on them to make sure he still comes around. Because despite what Dad claims, he gets mopey when Joey doesn’t text or visit as much.

Sometimes, when Grant isn’t busy, he goes upstate to visit Joey. Medea tags along when she doesn’t have school. 

A new school year also brings changes, junior high is interesting, to say the least. Especially the people. Medea thought it was all very dramatic at times – like did it matter that so and so had a crush? 

Dad chuckles when she complains. “I don't know, baby. I think it’s your ability that’s making everything so obvious.”

Medea made a face. “I think you’d believe me if you met them.” 

“Of course.” His tone said otherwise, and it was full of amusement. 

“Anyways, that’s not even what I wanted to tell you about. There’s this dance at the rec centre.”

He hummed in acknowledgement. 

“Can I go? It’s not next Friday, but the one after, and I don’t have skating that day.”

“I don’t see why not, so long as you finish your homework first.”

She beamed. 

Some of her classmates seemed to be a lot more intrigued with finding people to accompany them to dance than the event itself. 

A concept Medea found ridiculous, and she wanted to gag after hearing Cheryl swoon to her cronies about how Tristan had finally asked her out.

She doesn’t think it’s really a win, not when Tristan is easily the most obnoxious boy in their class. He also sweated, like a lot. Then again Cheryl was fairly obnoxious too, so it was probably a match made in heaven. 

“Is this the same Cheryl from back then?” asks Grant during dinner. 

“Yes. The same one who threw my book in the mud.” Even years later, the book cover still had a stain that didn’t quite come out. Medea stabbed her pasta viciously at the reminder.

He made a thoughtful sound. “I see. Oh, and if Tristan sweats as much as you make it out to be.” He shuddered. “Keep a clear distance from him, Medi. You’ll thank me when the night is over.”

Uncle Billy snickered. “Like father, like daughter. She’s just like you, Slade.”

“I haven’t the faintest clue what you mean.” 

“Patricia and her car.”

Dad simply glowered into his pasta. 

“You’re never going to let that go, are you?”

From across the table, Medea and Slade shared a glance of commiseration. 

Dad’s glance seemed to say, ‘they just don’t get it’ and she nodded in solemn agreement.

“What did Patricia do anyways?” asks Grant, bringing their attention to him. “You never told us what happened. Was it really that bad?”

“It’s the equivalent of James from your military school days,” offers Dad.

The shudder that Grant makes is enough to make Medea giggle. At the noise, it brings him back from whatever flashbacks he’s experiencing, and her brother gloomily says, “You swore to never bring him up.”

“Well, you were the one who asked.”

“There were better examples than him. ” James is the only one that can make Grant look like that. Not even the newly Robin-turned Nightwing gets such a look of pure hatred. 

In the background, Billy throws up his hands in exasperation. “Yet you wonder where your children get their mannerisms from,” he mutters. “I don’t know how Adeline and Shiva ever survived them.”

As the dance approached, Medea became more and more irritated as it seemed to be the only thing on some of her classmates’ minds. Another thing that annoyed her was how some people simply didn’t understand that a no was a no. It didn’t mean, please try again. The answer was still a no.

Grant sighed as he noticed her peeking behind her. The driveway was only so long, and this marked the third time that she did so. The moment the front door closes behind them, he turns to her. “Alright, time to spill the beans. What is it?”

“I need a favour.” At his gesture to continue, she motioned for him to come closer. “There’s this boy and he’s…” As she whispers the rest of her problem into his ear, his eyes narrow. 

Honestly, she didn’t even need to justify it. Grant had his mind made up the moment she asked for a favour. “Say no more. I’ve got you covered. ”

Medea beams and scurries away out of sight from the front door as a knock sounds on their front door. 

As promised, Grant takes care of it. He opens the door and looks their visitor up and down with thinly veiled distaste.“And…who are you?”

“I...I’m looking for Medea.”

“And why is that the case? You got a problem with her?” He crossed his arms and stared down at the boy.

The boy’s eyes widened. “No. No. No, I don’t. I just wanted to ask her something.”

“Oh, do you?”

Medea doesn’t hide her glee when Grant scares the boy off their doorstep with only a few more words. 

Being the youngest definitely had its pros!

Having two of his children around the house on a more permanent basis is nice, and Medea isn’t as lonely, no longer being the only child in the house. But oh boy did chaos ensue when there was more than one child under his roof at a time.

As Slade picks up Medea from the dance, he damn near has a heart attack at her answer. “How was the dance? Did you have fun?”

“It was alright, but kind of boring. Oh, this guy did ask me to dance.”

His foot slams on the brakes – not because he’s surprised – but because a car appeared out of nowhere. He honked in warning and annoyance. Slade waited for the car to drive by –coincidentally giving him ample opportunity to still his rapidly beating heart. “Yeah?” he says conversationally. 

“I danced with him like once,” says Medea blithely. “Nick was okay, I guess. His palms were sweaty and the whole time, he was so nervous that it was actually annoying.”

As she explained to him what she’d been up to, she was entirely oblivious to his internal breakdown which Slade was very grateful for. It gave him time to gather his thoughts.

Dancing with a boy?

Slow dancing too? 

Oh my god, she’s at that age now… 

In the back of his mind, he could hear Shiva saying that he was being dramatic. Slade ignores that voice in favour of his other thoughts. 

His daughter is a child. No, a baby. 

It is a terrifying thought to realize that the baby that he held in his arms is now in Junior High.

Still, he forces himself to remain calm, to not reveal any of his tells to her. “Oh? That bad?” he says calmly. 

“He had the audacity to ask for another dance. It was obvious he was using me to get Sam jealous. He was looking anywhere but me the whole time.”

Medea, please…you’re reading it all wrong.

Things were different with his boys. Grant and Joey were and still are popular amongst their cohorts. They knew how to act. But his poor baby. She was too oblivious at times, particularly when romantic interactions were directed at her. 

What was he going to do?? Like he had told Billy years ago, his chances with raising a girl were abysmal compared to raising boys. 

Life goes on as usual. Medea continues her skate lessons, two times a week. Mom visits, mostly when she has a skating performance coming up – other times, Medea will stay over for the odd weekend. 

The only major change is the addition of a pen pal. There was a program at school where they could write to kids at a sister school back in LA. Dad had given her permission to sign up and she’d been matched with a boy named Edward. Edward or Eddie as he preferred often wrote to her about his time as a gopher at his aunt’s film company. 

Even after the program ended, they still sent letters back and forth. Dad chuckled when she scribbled out a heated reply saying that no, the books were not worse than the movies. 

It was about the subtle nuances, Eddie! 

And then there was the phone.

Medea tries not to think about the burner phone in her drawer. Still fully charged and functioning. The next time she pulls it out, she doesn’t even glance at the contacts. Instead, she passes it to Grant to input one of his emergency numbers.

The school year is about halfway over before Dad finally relents and lets Grant off on his own, it had taken convincing from nearly everyone. 

They throw a mini gathering with Uncle Billy. To their disappointment, Joey can’t make it, he’s trying to apply for this prestigious summer program. It’s understandable, but there’s still a hole where Joey’s presence should be.  

Dinner is full of Grant’s favourite foods and he’s allowed to have one glass of wine. Dad lets her steal a sip from his, laughing at how her face twisted at the taste. Conversation flows anywhere from their day in general to moments from Medea and Grant’s early childhood.

“Slade, you let Grant bite someone when he was six. He was a right terror at that age,” says Uncle Billy.

“I don’t remember that.” Dad absolutely did, not even bothering to hide his smugness. 

“What do you mean you don’t remember? You were literally laughing while I separated him. I still have his bite marks on my arm.” He turns to Grant and says, “Grant, I love you and all, but you were feral as a child.”

“They were picking on Joey, what was I supposed to do? Let them?”

“I trust my children and it sounds like he had it coming,” says Dad. “Though I wished you punched him instead. Kids are full of germs, you know.”

“I was six, Pops. I think that was the last thing on my mind.”

Billy doesn’t forget to bring up the similarities with Medea. 

“What about me?”

“Kid, you pushed a boy in the fountain.”

“Allegedly.”

“Medea, I was the chaperone on your field trip. I can tell when it’s your handiwork.”

“But did you see it happen?” she posed. “Because Jack is a chronic liar.” Because who would the teachers believe, the straight A student or the one who consistently got in trouble? The answer was clear. “Besides, he bullied the younger kids all the time, who’s to say one of his victims didn’t fight back?”

Dad bit back a chuckle while Grant didn’t bother disguising his bark of laughter. 

Officially, the story is that Grant is taking a year or so off to travel the world, see the sights and all that. Unofficially, Ravager stops being Deathstroke’s apprentice and makes his debut as a solo mercenary. 

Grant makes his way around Europe, sending her and Joey the odd souvenir or postcard. Her current favourite souvenir was the glass heart necklace from Venice. 

Dad grumbles in the kitchen whenever they don’t hear from Grant for a tad too long, but underneath his grumpy exterior, he’s proud of whenever Ravager makes a splash in the underground. 

“Would it kill for the boy to call home more often?” mutters Dad. 

“You were the same when you first started as Deathstroke,” points out Uncle Billy. “Jumping from contract to contract.”

Still, neither Billy nor her say anything when Dad has a sudden work trip to Berlin, where Grant is coincidentally in. 

Dad did have a point. While the souvenirs and postcards were nice, Medea missed being able to converse with him. Also, Dad got grumpy whenever Grant or Joey didn’t call or check in too often.

Her summer is spent by her mother’s side, travelling the world. It’s this summer, Medea learns that there’s a cult of fanatics that worship Mom. Or rather they worship what she represents as Shiva. Mom thinks them amusing at best, but mostly as an annoyance. They revisit some of her acquaintances and see new sights. 

Ben insists on her calling him Uncle Ben. Because coming from her, Ben is all too formal. “Shiva, you’re making her a mini-you with how polite she is.”

“Better than a mini-you in terms of personality. Now that would be…” Mom wrinkled her nose and made a vague hand gesture.

“What is that supposed to mean?” squawks the man. “I am a delight , Shiva.”

“Of course you are.”

Richard hides a laugh behind his hand, but the amusement is all too clear to her. “Then I suppose Uncle Richard is more fitting. I’ve always wanted another niece.”

It’s clear that he refers to Cass and Medea doesn’t know how to feel. Had he been in touch with her? Or was he just trying to say that they were both welcome here? 

Her turmoil must be clear because the man finds her that night sitting by the doorstep dejectedly. “I was wondering earlier, but this must have something to do with Cassandra’s absence, no?” He took a seat beside her. 

At the name, she couldn’t help but frown. 

“What happened?”

“She’s making her own path.” Which was great and all that, but Medea just wished her sister had thought to remember her.

Richard was silent, taking in her words. “I see,” he says evenly. He didn’t seem too surprised to hear that Shiva and Cassandra had parted ways– had it been that obvious to everyone else too?

“You won’t tell me what happened that day, will you?”

“There’s not much I can tell.”

She studied his expression, not liking the slight regret in him. 

“Do you want me to keep an eye out for her?” he offers kindly. 

Medea paused and thought for a moment before she shook her head. “It’s fine.” Mom gave her the odd update, she was doing fine last Medea heard. At his dubious look, she hastily adds, “Really.” Her sister made her choice, and it was time she got over it.

That didn’t mean the sting of rejection wasn’t there though.

“Shiva is the better one to ask. Cain is a rather…difficult subject.”

“I know.” She sighed, tossing a pebble by her shoe to the field. “But I don’t know if I should.”

“Why not?” 

Medea startles when the voice beside her is no longer the deep one of Uncle Richard, but another one entirely. 

Shiva gives her a wry smile and it’s enough for her to fold into her mother’s embrace. “You miss her, don’t you?” 

A hum of acknowledgement came from Medea. “I…I wish– why couldn’t she stay?”

One of her mother’s hands stroked her hair, calm and methodically. It was a simple gesture, but it made her feel safe. “The world is hardly fair, it’s selfish sometimes. A lesson we all have to learn. Cassandra and I disagreed on certain matters. At the end of the day, perhaps it was better for us to part ways.”

“Like Cain?”

“Like Cain,” she agrees. “He was just one thing amongst other matters. I know you’re curious, but–Do you remember that conversation back then? The first time I watched you skate.”

She furrowed her brows as she tried to recall the conversation. “You mentioned…oh, does this have to do with why Dad raised me?”

“It is a factor, yes. Cain is a fool, but a clever and dangerous one. My ability is one that he coveted.”

Sometimes it was clear how young Medea was. She may have been raised by assassins and mercenaries, yet there was a spark of innocence in her. Similar to Cassandra, she thinks. It’s especially evident in how Medea speaks. At times, she’s bitterly reminded of her younger self and of Carolyn too. 

“But you can’t give it away. That’s not how it works.”

“You’re right, but what he can do is limit the people who have it. I had a sister once.” 

In her arms, her youngest freezes momentarily, already understanding the meaning of her words. 

“I’m getting off-track. While Cassandra and I had our disagreements, the biggest was her stance on killing.” She watched as her daughter’s eyes widened. 

“She didn’t want you to kill him?” asks Medea in Mandarin, voice barely above a whisper. Her eyes darted to the side as if worried someone would interrupt them.

Her fears were unfounded, but Shiva switched to the same language as well. “Not just him, anyone,” she corrects, “With our type of lifestyle – be it as a hero or someone like your father and I – death will never not be an option."

She nods slowly. 

"It will do you well to remember this. Everything has a consequence, Wan’er. Even if you choose to not kill.”

A contemplative look appeared in Medea’s expression as she took in her words. 

And as promised years ago, Shiva gives an answer –albeit watered down– of why Wilson had been the one to raise Medea. She does not mention the true reason behind Cassandra’s existence, and Medea does not pry, for which she is grateful. 

“She asked me to leave with her,” admits Medea, “Cass.”

Shiva’s hand paused for a split second before it resumed stroking her hair. Now that she hadn’t known. 

“I couldn’t. She’s my sister, but–” Medea’s voice cut off, as if afraid to continue her thoughts, but Shiva understood what was left unspoken. “Am I selfish for not wanting to ever make that decision again?”

“Sometimes, it’s alright to be selfish.” 

The world can be a cruel place.

I’m sorry you have to learn such a lesson already.

Chapter Text

In Zurich, Mom brings her to the cafe that she had mentioned years back. The hot chocolate is thicker than any one that she’s ever had before, but it’s good. 

“I’m telling Pops,” teased a familiar voice. “That much chocolate? You’re gonna get cavities.”

Medea whirled around in her seat and found Grant behind her. “You wouldn’t. You know how he gets.”

“I might.” He leaned over to fiddle with the spoon in her drink, emphasizing how thick the liquid was with how the spoon stood upright. “Are you sure you haven’t been scammed? This is more solid than liquid.”

She made a face to his laughter. Still, she focuses on more important things. “You didn’t tell me that you were going to be in town,” she accused. 

Her brother feigns confusion. “Didn’t I? I’m sure I did.”

“Liar. You better have a good reason then. Also, did you call Dad?” 

The way he shifts tells her no. “Medi,” he tries, “you know I’ve been busy lately.”

“You texted Joey and me last night, and the night before,” she counters. “He wants to meet up in Rome for one last trip before school starts. Joey already said yes. So, please?”

“Fine. You’re lucky you’re so cute, Medi.” He ruffled her hair to her chagrin. 

“Grant! Also, you didn’t answer the other thing.” She shifts just out of his reach and he chuckles, taking the seat across from her.

“Well, I don’t want to give it away. It’ll spoil the surprise.”

“Surprise?”

He grins. “Whose birthday is coming up soon?”

August is fast approaching and of everyone she knows, she’s the only one. Medea’s eyes sparkled in anticipation. “What’d you get me?”

“You’ll have to wait and see.” Grant was beyond smug when she couldn't get the answer out of him. 

The siblings were so caught up in their conversation that neither Medea nor Grant noticed Shiva until she was right beside them. 

“Oh– hello!” Grant scrambles out of his seat as the realization finally dawns on him that he may have been intruding on her time with Shiva. Medea wouldn’t have been at the cafe alone, nor with their father, especially not when it’s summer. 

“Hello,” says Shiva amusedly, taking the now empty seat. “It’s been a while.”

“Ah, sorry, I didn’t mean to intrude.”

For the very first time, Medea realizes that her family is usually separated based on her parents. She might be the sole overlap between both sides. 

She’s unsure of how things are supposed to be. Adeline and her rarely interact; her brothers follow something similar with Shiva – in that they don’t interact either. Probably even less than she did with their mother.

Grant and her exchange a careful glance. 

Mom ignores it and says, “Wan’er, you should have told me that he was coming by. It’s rude to have your brother resort to this for visits.” 

“It’s not her fault,” says Grant quickly. “A last-minute visit on my part. Besides, I should get going.”

She raised an eyebrow. “But your order hasn't arrived, has it?”

On cue, the barista announces an order number and by the way, Grant glances around, it must be his. “I don’t want to intrude–”

“You can join us if you’d like,” offers Mom to both her and Grant's surprise. 

Oh. That was…that was nice and the offer had been sincere.

Grant looked at Medea, and she shrugged, silently saying the option was up to him. Though secretly, she hoped he would stay. “Well, if you don’t mind.”

She can’t help but beam when Grant adds another chair to their table.

The conversation is polite and casual enough, though Shiva is more than sure that if she wasn't present, the two would be more relaxed.

Medea might usually be relaxed around them, but that doesn’t change the fact that Shiva doesn’t interact with Wilson’s other children outside of pleasantries. His eldest is nervous, every word is carefully picked as if he was worried that he might offend her. A hilarious assumption albeit incorrect– from what she knew of him, he treated Medea well and that was enough for her. 

As the conversation died down, Shiva’s gaze slid to him. “Since you’re here, I’ll leave the two of you to converse. I have some matters to attend to, but I’ll meet you by St. Peter’s Church in about–” She glanced at her watch. “–two hours?”

“I’ll make sure she gets there,” promises Grant. “She’ll be safe with me till then.”

“I believe you.” She nodded her head in farewell before disappearing into the busy street. 

It’s not that Shiva didn't believe him, but curiosity has her arrive much earlier than agreed upon and waits. The milling crowd does well to hide her presence. 

About 15 minutes before their meeting time, she spots the two walking down the street. Shiva watches as they wait nearby. 

The boy was prompt. Very much like his father, she’d give him that. Showing up early. 

She could see traces of behaviour that were very much like Medea. The results of Wilson’s parenting, she supposed, because she could easily attribute some to Wilson himself. And how they acted when they were worried or nervous; they both tended to play with a silver ring. Medea’s ring hangs on a chain around her neck while the boy wore his on his finger. Back at the cafe, she noticed that they had the exact design. 

As they wait for her, she observes them. Of the boy listening intently to Medea and providing his commentary at times, prompting Medea to laugh. She didn’t need that ability of hers to see the siblings were close and cared dearly for each other. 

To her delight, it doesn’t take too long for him to notice that they were being watched. Looking around, he eventually met her gaze. Grant bends down to whisper something in Medea’s ear before they walk over. 

Final goodbyes are exchanged before they part ways, this time Medea with her. 

“How was your excursion with your brother?” asks Shiva. 

There’s a hint of surprise that flickers on Medea’s face before she beamed. “It was nice; he showed me around town.”

Summer ends for Medea in Rome, where they celebrate her thirteenth birthday. Mom stays for a few days before she parts ways with them. Though not before she and Dad rescue stumble upon Medea and her brothers in one of the catacombs. 

In hindsight, perhaps some catacombs were closed to the general public for a reason. The one they entered was a maze, and they had been stubborn, thinking that they wouldn’t need a guide or their father’s help. 

“I swear, I can’t even take my eye off you three for an hour.” Dad doesn’t bother hiding the amusement. His chuckles echo throughout the catacombs.

Even Mom can’t help but laugh. 

All in all, Rome was fun if not hot. Medea is glad to be back in the states when September rolls around. The cooler weather was welcome compared to the scorching heat.

With the start of school, Medea continues as usual, balancing school, skate and family. Grant continues moving around, though he’s semi-settled down in New York. They don’t even have to ask him what he’s up to as often, not when he makes the news by being a menace toward the Titans as Joey and her like to call it.

Joey is set to graduate this year. And with both her siblings somewhat settled upstate, Dad lets her visit on weekends, dropping her off at Grant’s place on Fridays after school and picking her up on Sundays. 

On these visits, sometimes Medea sticks with her brothers. Other times, they are content to let her wander around on her own so long as she keeps them updated on where she goes. 

It’s a fair trade considering how many masks – from heroes to villains and everything in between – liked to make their debut here. 

Joey is a little more lenient with curfew. However, Grant was just like Dad – a stickler for time. Look, she didn’t mean to lose track of the time at the library. It really was an accident, Grant! Promise!

Medea hadn’t realized that he’d make good on his promise. Because tonight she’s at least twenty minutes late and barely manages to not shriek when Ravager nabs her on her way back to his place. 

“What do we have here?” he mocked, as she’s thrown unceremoniously over his shoulder. “A lost child?”

“Ravager!” She twisted futilely in his grip, but he didn’t let her go. 

“I told you there were consequences.”

“You won’t get away with this!” 

“Oh, but I already am.” The amusement was clear in Grant’s voice. 

Eddie was wrong, thought Medea. There were downsides to having siblings, especially when you were the youngest. 

The two are about halfway home when an unwelcome visitor appears. Of course, it wasn’t entirely the hero’s fault that they had come to such a conclusion. To anyone outside of her family, it looked like she was being abducted. Which she was, but it was okay, because it was Grant. 

It’s nothing that her brother can’t handle, but it was probably better to part ways to avoid Medea’s civilian status from being ruined. So Grant ‘flees’, and she ends up ‘rescued’ from a nefarious mercenary.

Kid Flash is fairly nice as he ‘escorts’ her to a nicer part of town– a far cry from the alleyways that Grant and she had been in earlier. He’s very chatty though, thought Medea.

He is also surprisingly more clumsy than she expected. Except she wonders if this is her fault. Because she reads his actions but forgets to take into account his speed, causing what happens next to them to be very, very interesting. 

She still isn’t sure how to describe that . With him being a speedster, she thought he would be rushing into things. He proved her wrong. But it was kind of funny how quickly his suaveness disappeared as he stammered out an apology, cheeks as red as his hair. 

With how flustered he is, it’s much easier to convince him to let her go off on her own. She waves goodbye to him before disappearing into the crowd where she agreed to meet Grant when he’d relinquished her earlier. 

Though unbeknownst to her, there’s a big brother in the shadows who’s glaring daggers at the red-faced and possibly love-struck speedster. He had quite unfortunately seen everything. Including that. 

Grant had been weirdly overprotective after that encounter with Kid Flash. For what reason, Medea couldn’t fathom. But he wouldn’t tell her either. 

She hopes it’s not because he’s worried about her civilian status being blown. She’d asked, and he had reassured her that it wasn’t. 

So what could it be?

“Should I be worried about your penchant for rooftops, xiao longnu?”

Medea is so deep into her thoughts that she startles at the teasing voice. Blinking, she realized that her mother was sitting beside her. “Mo–Shiva?” Based on the clothes she wore, it felt better to err on the safe side.

“I’ve finished with what I was here for earlier.”

“Oh.” After a pause, she adds, “Are you…will you be in town for a bit?”

“Not this time. I hoped to catch you before your father picked you up.” 

Shiva isn’t in time for very long, her job in New York required her to be in and out in the span of a few hours. So in the short time together, Medea is content to sit by her side on the rooftop.

Mom promises to come for her next skating competition. Something – Surprise? Relief? Annoyance? – bubbles up in her with the reveal that Cass is in Gotham and thriving as a vigilante. 

Her sister is safe – thriving – and…and Medea is here. 

Before she leaves to catch her flight out of here, Shiva says, “I think you’ll need some bandages.” At Medea’s visible surprise, she clarifies, “For Ravager.”

“Okay.”

“Until next time.” And with that, Shiva gets up from her spot beside her and heads out. 

Medea stares at the first aid kit wondering how bad Grant’s injuries were. Just as she pulls it out and sets it on the table, her brother slips in through the window. “Medi? What’s with the kit?”

“You’re hurt. Don’t lie.” If she looked close enough, she could see how he held himself. Pretending to be fine. 

He doesn’t say anything. Instead, he pulls his helmet off and purses his lips. 

They were locked in a staredown. Neither looked away until Grant’s phone chimed. Instinctively, he glanced at it. 

“Ok, fine,” he admits once he found her stubbornly staring him down after he looked up from his phone. “It’s only a few scratches.”

Medea crossed her arms. 

“I swear, you must be a mind reader like Pops. Nothing gets past him.”

“I wish.” 

While Slade had told them multiple times that he can’t read minds, none of his children were inclined to believe him. How else would you explain that they never got away with anything? Like ever?

And considering that of the three of them, Joey was the only one with powers, they jokingly accused Slade of favouritism. 

“Then how do you explain this?” Grudgingly, Grant took pieces of his armour off so Medea could see the scratches. They weren’t life-threatening, but it didn’t mean they should be left untreated. “Alright, come help me then, little Red.”

“Mom told me.”

“When did Shiva even come by? I didn’t see her earlier.”

Medea shrugs. “You only see her if she wants you to.”

“That’s fair.”

Life continues as usual. 

Dad only laughs and gives her no sympathy when she complains about Grant. “I don’t know, baby, you know how your brother is.”

She harrumphed to his amusement. 

“He did warn you.”

“I didn’t think he’d be serious!”

Joey isn’t of much help either. “Small price to pay for being the baby,” he signed. There was a gleam in his eyes that told Medea he found it funny too. 

Traitors!

With his last year in high school, Joey is busy as ever. But even so, Grant and she agreed that it felt like he was hiding something. It was too suspicious with how busy he was sometimes.

Uncle Billy jokes that maybe Joey was hiding another identity. After all, Grant had done the same. 

Grant and Medea think the likelihood of it being a secret boyfriend is higher. 

In February, they learn just how very wrong they were. Grant finds out during one of his jobs and spends the night venting about it to Medea on a video call home. 

“Can you believe him? Not telling us? I mean, I get not telling Pops. Because, well you know how he is. But us? He knew I was Ravager, I could have hurt him tonight!” 

Medea nodded vehemently. It’s rude, Joey! “Do you think Uncle Billy knew?”

“Honestly, I wouldn’t be surprised, Medi. But Joey is getting an earful when I see him next.”

And so Medea gains yet another tie to the hero community. 

One being her brother, who works as Jericho. The other being her sister, who moonlights as Black Bat. 

Dad only made a thoughtful sound at the news that Joey is a superhero. 

“Careful, children,” warns Billy jokingly. “Your father is plotting again.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Billy.”

“But am I wrong?”

Contrary to popular belief, Slade was not plotting. No, he was merely considering the pros of taking a jaunt in New York. One that may or may not involve him appearing as Deathstroke.

Perhaps it was time to visit Joey. 

Like his children, he had suspected Joey was hiding something. While he had the resources at hand to find out what it was, it felt like a breach of trust. It felt like something that Deathstroke would do, rather than what Slade Wilson should do.

He’d made careful inquiries, but each time Joey assured him that he was fine. So Slade had taken a step back and hoped that with time, Joey would feel comfortable enough to confide in him about what it was.

Billy raises an eyebrow when he says that he has to stop in New York for a few days. An action that Medea mirrored when she’s told that Shiva is taking her that weekend. 

Slade had nothing against Joey being a mask. Okay, he did. 

If he had it his way, he didn’t want any of them to be a mask. As hypocritical as it was. But still, he wished Joey had told them about it rather than finding out like this.

His daughter wouldn’t do this to him, right? Become a mask and have him find out like this.

Slade glanced at Medea, who was fully engrossed in a book and fervently hoped that Grant hadn’t started a trend. God knows how much of an influence he had on his younger siblings. 

Joey is anxious, to say the least. Grant’s knowledge of his alias had resulted in a frostiness that made him worry. He rather have an angry outburst from him than radio silence. Grant hadn’t even bothered to pick up his calls or reply to his texts. And to his surprise and worry, Medea hasn’t said anything either. He didn't doubt that Grant didn't tell her.

Speaking of his sister, he’s reminded that his father doesn’t know his current alias either. Neither did Uncle Billy. His godfather would be supportive. But what about Pop? Would he be disappointed that he didn’t follow in his and Grant’s footsteps?

He’s so lost in thought that he doesn’t notice a mercenary appearing in his field of vision. It’s Nightwing’s cry of ‘Deathstroke’ that he snaps out of his thoughts.  

“As lovely as it is to see the rest of you,” drawled his father, “I’m not here for you.” His sword gestured to him. “Jericho.” 

“We’re not letting you take him!”

I don’t think you could do much to stop him, thought Joey. The sentiment was much appreciated though.

“Admirable comradery. But I think Jericho can speak for himself, no?”

“What is it?” he says, using the mic that had been hooked up to a speaker on his suit. Wariness is still present in his voice, but he knows Deathstroke won’t hurt him. The mercenary looks him up and down as if analyzing his worth, and Joey fights the urge to fidget. 

“How familiar are you with your constellations?” asks Slade finally. The rest of the Titans startle at the question, but he ignores them. He’s only here for his son. 

Later when the day is over, he’ll marvel at how much trust his children invest in him – Joey shows no fear that he’d be hurt, only the smallest hint of nervousness. 

Joey blanched at the question. “You don’t mean– they…”

“Andromeda is rather angry at being left out.” 

“Angry?” He easily picks up on the slight emphasis on ‘ meda’. Medi, please…

“Well, maybe furious is a better descriptor.”

“Furious?”

“Maybe. I think they muttered something about rankings.” It was kind of funny how pale Joey was. “I’m sure it’s nothing to worry about.”

His Pop says a few other things, but most of it flies over his head in favour of his sister’s reaction. Oh no. 

His friends are worried. “Is he threatening you?” asks Nightwing. “You know we’re here for you.”

Joey shook his head. “No, it’s not something you can help with.” His mind was more preoccupied with more important things. He had a lot to do if he wanted to maintain the position of favourite brother with Medea. Hmm…well that was a rather nice idea , he wondered if it’d work. 

He’ll explain that his Pop was just being dramatic later. 

First things first, the matter regarding Medea. He had just the thing to keep him in her good graces.

And he’s right. It works to an extent. 

“What does Ravager have against you?” asks Nightwing. This would mark the third time this week that Ravager had appeared solely to seek out Jericho. 

Joey shrugged. “No clue,” he signs, lying. He schools his face into the most innocent look he could muster.

“You!” snarled Ravager as he stalked toward him. “You’re a dead man, Jericho. You’re going to regret what you did.”

“Don’t be dramatic.” Joey rolled his eyes at his brother’s antics. 

“You know damn well that it was mine !” 

“So?”

Grant let out a snarl and lunged. “I called dibs. You knew that I was going to buy it.”

“But I paid for it first.” He just barely dodged. Ok, maybe his brother was a little more than pissed.

“With what money? Mom’s?”

Damn. Grant had a point. Still, Joey powered on. “...It doesn’t matter.”

“Hold on, you’re related?” asks Wally. 

At his interruption, both Grant and he paused in their conversation and shot a look of annoyance at being disturbed. Never mind this was the Titan’s tower. 

“So?” asks Grant irritably. “What’s it to you?” 

A feeling that Joey felt too. “This is a private matter.”

His brother snorted. 

“Can we get some privacy? Please?”

Very quickly the Titans learned to give the two of them space whenever Ravager appeared at the tower. It was rare, but when it happened they knew what to do. The team’s conversation went something along the lines of:

“Are Ravager and Jericho fighting again?”

“Yeah.”

That, and the Titans learned that while Ravager cared dearly for his brother.

Joey was off-limits – Ravager didn’t care if they were a hero or not, but hurt him and well…they pitied the last man they had to rescue from Ravager’s wrath.

Still, there were times the team wondered. How could a sweet and kind person like Joey even be related to people like Ravager and Deathstroke?

Grant has been sitting on a goldmine piece of information now. And it’s unfortunate for his victim that they annoyed him last week. 

So he does what he does best. He looks after his siblings. Grant waits on the rooftop of the Titan’s tower for his brother. He could wait inside, but he found the interior too depressing. Besides, someone would tell Joey soon that he was here.

He’s right because his helmet has just been taken off for barely a minute when Joey joins him on the roof. “What did I do this time?” he signs. 

“Oh, it’s not you. But I thought you’d be interested in learning something.”

“What would that be?” 

Leaning in, he whispers, “Medi has a crush.”

“On who?” Joey knew his brother had an ulterior motive for revealing them to him, but he couldn't deny his curiosity. 

“She said Kid Flash was cute.” 

“So?” Wally wasn’t a bad guy. A little chatty perhaps for his taste, but a good guy. Both morally and in general. 

“What she didn’t say was that he also stole her first kiss.” Grant could pinpoint the moment Joey’s brain spluttered to a stop. He could see the gears restart and he smiled smugly underneath his mask when Joey stammered out something to do. 

And poor Joey. He was so frazzled that he forgot his phone beside Grant.

It was only right that Grant returned it. After all, as the oldest, he’s got to look after them.

“You’re a good person, Wally. But we can’t be friends anymore,” is the first thing that Joey’s speaker says when he finds the speedster in the kitchen.

Wally’s eyes widened as he turned to face him. “Joey?”

“My sister? Really?” He crossed his arms, displeased.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he says, placatingly. Wally looked confused. Though, if anything the speedster had only dug his grave a little deeper. 

“So you just go around kissing girls? I thought you were better than that.”

“Joey...I think there’s been a misunderstanding, I haven’t even met your sister.” Joey is a private person by nature; they didn’t even know that he was related to Deathstroke and Ravager till recently. But Wally can guarantee he hadn’t mentioned a sister yet.

He narrowed his eyes. “Oh, yes you have. You stole her first kiss and you’re going to deny it? I have a witness too!” he says, pointing right at Ravager.

While Wally wasn’t an empath, he could practically sense the smugness oozing off the mercenary. 

Was this payback for tripping him the last time they met?

Still, he had to think of something because Joey – kind, sweet Joey – seemed ready to strangle someone. That someone being him. 

Well, there was one girl that he’d kissed. Accidentally. Frankly, he wasn’t sure if he dreamt her up. Because for all he tried, he couldn’t find her again. He’d never gotten a name of any sort from her either, so it makes things even more difficult. All he knew was that she had the brightest eyes and a cute laugh.

A chime escaped their phones. Considering neither Grant nor Joey didn’t have many people who had access to their phone while they were working, they pulled it out. 

There was a message from their father. A request to pick up Medea from skating practice. One that ended in 15 minutes.

They exchanged a glance before Grant vaulted himself off the building, with Joey being quick to follow. 

“Go away! Go play with your friends or something.”

“No, you back off. I’m picking her up!”

“Like hell you are,” snapped Grant.

The sight of two masks fighting each other isn’t too uncommon in most cities. Though if anyone had dared to eavesdrop or get closer, they might have found their reason for fighting rather unique.

Two masks who fought over to pick up their sister. 

It was 5:15 pm. 

Medea glanced at her watch again and wondered if she should call her dad. He had promised that one of her brothers would pick her up. But now, she wasn’t too sure. Had something happened?

Harried footsteps sounded in the background and Medea looked up to see Joey extremely dishevelled. He looked like he was semi-dressed as Jericho too. 

“Are you okay?” she asks, slightly worried at how hard he was breathing. “Did something happen?”

He gave her a thumbs up. “Just catching my breath,” he signs after a moment. “How was class?”

“Fun, we d–” 

A crash sounded and from the rubble emerged Grant in his alias. “Cheater!” he snarled. “You sent them after me? The Titans?”

Medea stared at her two brothers, wondering what exactly had happened. 

Joey shrugged to Grant’s irritation. 

A frustrated noise escapes her eldest brother. “I cannot believe you.” 

As her brothers bickered, Medea wondered if it would have been better if Uncle Billy picked her up instead. 

“You might have arrived first.” There was a gleam of mischief in Grant’s eyes. 

“But?” prompts Joey.

Grant grins a terrifying smile and Medea has the sense that she should start running. Far, far away from both of her brothers.

Muffled laughter sounds through his earpiece. And when it showed no signs of stopping anytime soon, Slade gave in and asked. “What is it?”

It takes another moment before Billy catches his breath enough to reply. “You might want to head by 15th and Edwards when you’re done here. And don’t worry, I’ve wiped traces of them off every camera.”

With how cryptic that was, Slade can’t help hurriedly but off the mark that he’s here for. Following Billy’s suggestion, he heads there just in time to see a familiar child – Medea getting taken? Not on his watch. – thrown over yet another familiar figure’s shoulder. Grant. 

His confusion gave way to even more confusion when the third member of their party. Why was Joey chasing them? 

Slade was never asking any of his sons to pick up Medea from anything ever again. 

Never did he think that anything like this would occur. Shiva was going to laugh at him if she found out. Scratch that, when she found out.

“Slade, your children really are one of a kind,” chokes out Billy between renewed laughter. 

He was frozen to the spot and at a loss for words. They really were. 

Following them, he watched as Medea got transferred between Grant and Joey continuously. Sometime during that, she slipped out of Joey’s grasp, and never mind that they were on a rooftop, she stamps her feet in annoyance before stomping on Joey’s feet. And when Grant attempts to pick her up, Medea goes for his knees.

Slade is equal parts impressed and exasperated with his youngest. 

Finding a loose brick nearby, she picks it up and he doesn’t need to be there to know that she’s threatening them with it. 

At the sight, both of his sons hold out their hands placatingly, as if trying to persuade her not to throw it at them.

Then his heart stops when a black-clad figure appears from behind, going for Medea. To his relief, she turns before they can grab at her. The brick in her hand flies straight at the assailant’s face and Grant stabs the figure before they get shoved off the roof courtesy of Joey. 

At least those self-defence lessons were paying off. 

Finally, he cleared his throat, drawing attention to himself. The children froze in the middle of their renewed bickering to look at him. 

“Deathstroke…” says Medea carefully. “I didn’t know you were in town.”

“Things change.” Slade glanced over at his children. “I think we could do with a change of scenery.” As they murmured some variation of an agreement to explain things, he can almost imagine one of them using the excuse that they were left unsupervised. 

Three severely chastised children later, he asks them, “So what have we learned today?”

“I’m not allowed to abduct my sister.” 

Slade raised his brow. “Really, Grant?”

“Fine.” His eldest let out a huff of annoyance. “I’m not allowed to abduct my siblings unless there’s a valid reason.”

He sighed. "We're going to revisit those reasons once I deal with your siblings." He sent Joey a pointed look.

“I’m not allowed to abduct my sister either. Or sic heroes on my brother without good reason.”

Close enough. He gestured to Medea, who had a sulky look on her face. 

“I’m not allowed to threaten my brothers with bricks.” At his continued look, she amends, “I’m not allowed to threaten them when I’m in a dangerous situation.”

Good grief, it was like pulling teeth with these children of his.

Chapter Text

“This is boring,” she says, choosing a rooftop to stop at.  Aha, that was a good one. Finding one to her liking, she sat down. “And cold.”

“Then why did you follow me out?” asks Dad amused. Medea couldn’t see him in the distance anymore, but his voice continued through the earpiece that she wore. “I’m not sure what you were thinking when I said I had to work.”

Medea sneezed. 

“Bless you.”

“I didn’t follow you out because I wanted to,” she says grumpily. She pulled out a pen and a piece of folded paper from her pocket.

“Oh? Do tell.”

“It’s for ‘take your kid to work day’, Dad. I need to interview you, remember?”

A chuckle came from his end. “Of course you do, Princess. I’m flattered you chose to interview me.”

“Dad!” Medea doesn’t think that nickname will ever fully disappear. Ever. She’s pretty sure it’s a similar thing with her siblings – she’ll be in her thirties and they’ll still view her as a baby. 

“Sorry.” Though his voice is anything but apologetic. “Well, ask away. Though I’m not sure how your teacher is going to like you interviewing Deathstroke though. Was there really nobody else?”

“Mom is equally hard to interview though and she’s out of town. Besides, Uncle Billy says you need to work on being more –” Her voice drips with distaste at the next word as she unfolded the piece of paper. “– normal. Whatever that means.”

He hums in agreement. “See? I told him I was fine. Anyways, ask away, little witch.”

Were her parents sharing nicknames now? Medea glanced down at the sheet in her lap. “Let’s see. Occupation?”

“Keep it as a security consultant.”

“Job description?”

“Testing the security and defences of my clients.” There was a hint of laughter in his words. 

Medea couldn’t help but giggle. “One thing you enjoy about your job?”

There was a slight pause and she could hear a smack as something hit the ground. “The flexible hours I get as a freelancer.” Another smack. “Give me ten minutes, alright? I’ll open the comm line when I’m finished.”

She hummed in agreement. 

“We can go over that sheet when I’m done here.” 

And just before he signs off, Medea adds, “Je t’aime.”

She assumed that he had already cut the line, but to her surprise, he parrots the phrase back to her. 

From her vantage point, Central had quite the night view. Less clustered with skyscrapers and high-rise buildings, it made looking at the stars a lot easier. She squints trying to identify the constellations – if she was right, then that should be Cassiopeia. 

She gives up on the sheet, it’s too dark now to see anything. Tucking it back in her pocket, Medea looked around, taking in the view. 

It certainly was nice from her spot; to watch as people went about their day, cars hurrying to and fro. There was something about being so high up, removed from everyone else. A little lonely maybe, but a lovely view.

Interestingly enough, she sees a red blur snake through the city below. Oh, was it him? Central was Kid Flash’s city after all – well, sort of. She watches curiously as he circles around the city. He stops every once in a while and Medea sees him help people before he goes on his way. 

Kid Flash paused mid-run and looked up just to see her. He seemed surprised? Then Medea reminded herself that most people didn’t see others on rooftops too often. 

“Be there in a minute, had to change–” crackles her Dad’s voice from her earpiece. It’s a little staticky, cutting off whatever the rest of what he was saying.

Medea turned back to see Kid Flash still staring at her. Confused, she waved in greeting before turning to see Dad climbing the fire escape – he’s in civilian attire?

He’s a little further way back, out of sight from Kid Flash. He motioned for her to come over.

Getting up, she went to join him. “You’re finished?” She gives him a discerning glance, trying to see if he was injured. But it seemed that he was fine, or Dad had decided to disguise his tells from her.

“It’s getting cold out and I'd rather get you home quicker,” says Slade

She eyed his outstretched hand warily. “You’re not kidnapping me, are you? It’s bad enough that Grant and Joey do it.” Still, she took it. 

He laughed. “You wound me, baby. I would never betray you like that.” 

“I’d hope so.”

“Don’t let go.”

Before Medea could fathom the strange request, there was a sudden twisting and everything seemed to spin ridiculously fast. Even when things finally stopped spinning, she continued to grip his hand tightly.

“Are you alright?”

She mumbled an agreement as she leaned against him, not trusting her current ability to stay standing by herself. “When did you get more powers?” 

Dad shook his head, showing her the device in his hand. “Xenothium, actually. Remember Red X’s teleportation? This is pretty similar.”

“You and I have very different definitions of ‘Come in, the door’s unlocked’,” comes a familiar voice. Medea looked up to see an amused Shiva. “And just what did you put our daughter through?”

“I thought you were unflappable.” Carefully, Slade maneuvered Medea onto the nearby couch. “Oh my. Are you telling me the great Shiva is–” He paused for dramatic effect. “–taken off guard?”

The corner of Shiva’s mouth twitched slightly. Barely enough for someone to catch her thinly veiled amusement. 

“Besides, I did give you our ETA.”

“A text consisting of ‘here’ seconds before your arrival is hardly a heads up.” 

Medea isn’t sure when it happened, but she finds a glass of water set in front of her. 

“Drink, it'll help with the dizziness,” instructs Shiva. 

She does as Dad takes her homework from her and looks over it to his approval and Mom’s curiosity. 

“A security consultant? How…how peculiar.”

“I can’t very well say I’m Deathstroke for her ‘take your kid to work’ assignment, can I?”

“It’s time like these that I wonder if letting you raise Medea was the best option.”

Slade looked appalled at the thought. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“I said what I said.” A hand falls onto Medea’s hair, smoothing down any flyaway hairs. “Wan’er, I hope that you didn't inherit your father’s intelligence. The serum didn’t do much for his intelligence, I’m afraid.”

“Shiva!”

Mom shrugs gracefully, ignoring her father’s look of betrayal. 

Medea can’t help but giggle at the situation. “You’re so silly, Dad.” 

“Baby, not you too.”

With how her parents were poking fun at each other, one would have thought they were the world’s most incompetent adults. It was comical to even imagine that.  

It was nice, thought Medea seated between the two as they playfully bickered on what exactly counted as a valid civilian disguise for them. These rare moments when both her parents were together. Though sometimes she wished they weren’t as rare. 

Wally wonders if Central City is haunted. Or maybe he’s the one that’s being haunted. 

Ever since he rescued this one girl from Ravager, she appears sporadically. There’s nothing to hint at her appearance. And nobody, he means it, nobody ever sees her but him.

She must be a ghost. Because what other explanation was there? She had appeared in the Titan’s tower without tripping any alarms. 

“Hey–”

The same girl he rescued from a while back had turned around, startled before quickly recomposing herself. “You never saw me out here. They’ll get terribly mad.”

Wally should have asked – if not suspected her appearance. But the glance she set at him when combined with the urgency in her voice had him agreeing without another thought. “My lips are sealed.” 

She beamed before disappearing down the hallway. 

He stands in the now empty hallway, puzzled before it hit him – this was the Titans tower? She would have been trespassing?? He’d done a lap around the Tower but couldn’t find anyone. 

And now here she was, waving at him from a rooftop, disappearing before he could even reach her. Wally had done a lap around the city too, but there was nothing. Like a ghost.

He’d bring it up with the team– if they wouldn’t laugh at him. Most of them had watched on in bated anticipation as Joey had gone into an overprotective brother mode about a sister that Wally will swear to this day that he doesn’t know. 

It was all Ravager’s fault. Wally had tried to clarify who it might have been, but it only seemed to make things worse. “Please, Joey. I still don’t know who your sister is and what she looks like.”

The normally cheerful and pleasant Joey looked more and more irritated. 

He shoots a look at any of his teammates hoping for an iota of help. Donna, the traitor, laughs and watches on in amusement.

“Joey,” Dick had said carefully. “You’re not going to stop being friends because of that, are you?”

“Why not? There are consequences, Dick.” He crossed his arms in displeasure. 

“Maybe this is a misunderstanding. What does she look like? Wally looks genuinely co–”

“Do you think I’d fall for that? I wasn’t born yesterday.” 

Wally thinks that although Dick had good intentions, it only served to make Joey more irritated. 

It is only the solemn vow that he won’t even entertain the idea of looking at Joey’s sister, or talking to her that gets Joey to slightly warm up to him. It takes three more days before Joey stops being so frosty with him. 

The last mention he’d heard of Joey’s sister was when Joey and Ravager’s usual bickers, this time about who the favourite brother was. 

Silently, he wished her the best of luck. Whoever she was. 

“Tell him, I’m your favourite.”

“Medi,” signs Joey. “Tell Grant that he’s wrong.”

She blinked and stared. 

Slade wasn’t sure how long this had been going on, but it had been going for far too long. And there was no right answer. 

Whoever she designated the better brother meant that she’d lose the favour of the other. 

And his daughter was too smart to burn bridges like that.

“Well?” prompts Joey.

Medea glanced between her brothers and wondered if she could make it out the door first. 

As if guessing where her mind went, both her brothers shifted slightly to cut off all her possible escape routes.

“Yes, Medi. Let’s settle this once and for all. Who’s your favourite?” asks Grant.

“Do I really have to pick?” At their nod, Medea made a thoughtful sound as she glanced around the room. Her eyes seemed to sparkle with mischief when they landed on him. “Well, I’d choose…”

“Yes?”

“Dad,” she says bluntly. 

Slade blinked at her answer before amusement replaced his confusion. Heh. Nice. 

Joey signs rapidly, “What? Why?” 

“Dad’s cool because he picks me up on time.” She got up from her seat to give Slade a small hug.

Both his sons looked affronted to hear that. 

And for the pièce de résistance, Medea adds, “And he doesn’t kidnap me.” before flouncing out of the room.  

Grant staggered, a hand to his chest like she’d stabbed him. Joey looked like a broken man at her words. His children were honestly so dramatic sometimes. 

Slade tried his best to keep a neutral expression, but inwardly he was grinning like a fool at the declaration about being the favourite. As he leaves the room, he throws out the words, “Boys, jealousy isn’t a good look.”

“That’s it–” sputters Grant. From beside him, Joey scrambled for the first weapon on hand.

A bark of laughter escaped Slade as he dodges the cushions thrown at him. “You’re only proving me right, boys.”

Medea’s words only fuel both his sons’ determination to get a real answer from her. Grant and Joey are convinced that with enough incentive, she’ll crown a winner. 

Silently, Slade wished her good luck as they brought her out to the mall.

It’d only been a few hours since then, but Slade couldn’t help but wonder what they were up to. The three had returned to cheerful spirits. 

Then there were the giggles. Slade pointedly ignored the giggles and whispers from the three when he’d passed by the kitchen earlier. Sooner or later, he’d know what it was. 

Eventually, there’s a hesitant knock on his door. “Dad?”

“Come in.”

Medea shuffled in, holding something behind her back. “Umm…we went out and we got you something.”

“Oh?”

She shifted to reveal a box of chocolates; small, circular chocolates wrapped in gold foil. “Yeah. We didn’t want you to feel left out.” At his incredulous look, Medea placed the box of chocolates on his desk. “We got you some chocolate.”

She was avoiding eye contact. Combined with what he had heard earlier, Slade knew that the chocolate must have been specially curated just for him. “I see.” When she didn’t move, he asked, “Did you want one?”

His daughter shook her head, before quickly running back out, muttering about homework to do. 

Just what had these brats of his concocted now? He picked a chocolate up to inspect before putting it back down when his office door opened again. Slade looked up to see his oldest friend stare at him. 

“Slade, we need to talk.”

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” He slid the box of chocolates over to him. “Want one?”

“Is this the time for chocolate?”

“I insist.” 

Billy begrudgingly took one and unwrapped it. He took a bite and promptly spit it back out to Slade’s chuckles. “Are you trying to kill me? That was disgusting.”

“No. But I was wondering if you’d notice.” He thought they looked pretty realistic. Shame they didn’t account for the weight. 

“That was an abomination. Raw brussels sprouts dipped in chocolate and hazelnuts? What did I ever do to you to warrant this ?”

“You can thank the children. I was wondering what they had replaced them with.”

“So you gave them to me?” squawks Billy indignantly. “To me?”

“I wasn’t expecting you to fall for it. You’re slipping, old friend.”

“Right, the children. We need to talk about that.” At Slade’s gesture to continue, he did, “You have a daughter.”

“Wow. Thank you, Billy.” Slade took the box of chocolates again, rifling through them before taking two out. “It’s not like I named you her godfather or anything. Catch.” At Billy’s look, he adds, “What? These are safe. Promise.” He unwrapped the one in his hand and bit into it. “See, still alive.”

Still, Billy looked warily at the chocolate in hand. “I think I’ll pass. And no, no, no. Not like that. You have another daughter.”

A choking noise escaped Slade. He thumped his chest trying to recover from the revelation. “What?” Then his eye narrowed. “Who and where?”

“Do you remember Cambodia? Years before you met Shiva.” And Billy watched as the realization dawned on him. 

“Lillian? She has a daughter…I have another daughter? She’d be sixteen?”

Billy nodded. “She recently turned sixteen and I think that she’s yours. She looks very much like you, no thanks to the serum.”

“What?” Any trace of the father was gone, replaced with Deathstroke. “Tell me everything.”

It’s too last minute to ask Shiva – Grant’s closer, so Slade asks his eldest to look after Medea for the few days that he’s out of town.

“Where are you going?” 

From beside Grant, his youngest asks, “Do you really have to go?”

“Yes…it’s a complicated situation,” admits Slade.

“You said you wouldn’t keep any more secrets?” There's an accusing note in Grant’s voice, warning Slade that he needs to approach this carefully.

“Are you in trouble because of us?” asks Medea in a small voice. 

“What? No, no, no. It’s not because of you. But…” Slade paused, wondering how to describe Lillian to them. Acquaintance sounded unnecessarily coldhearted. In the end, he settled on a friend. “...an old friend of mine, she might be in trouble.”

“I thought you didn’t have friends. Besides, Uncle Billy of course.”

Medea nodded emphatically, agreeing with Grant. “You were lying last time when you said Uncle Richard was a friend!”

Dragon….oops. Slade silently prayed that Richard wouldn’t hold a grudge against him if his sons had a bad view of him. He levelled a look at the two. “I will explain everything once I get back. But for now, I don’t…I don’t want to give you information about something that might be false.”

That gains him skepticism from his eldest while his youngest looks worried. “Okay,” she says carefully. 

“Thank you.”

He leaves behind a list of what to do in the event everything goes wrong, one more detailed than he’s ever given his children. Because if someone is possibly targeting Lillian due to the existence of another child of his, then what about the ones that he’s already claimed as his?

Please, please let his children be safe. 

He cannot have another child of his hurt because of his existence .

Slade doesn’t know whether he should be amused or exasperated at his luck. He hasn’t been in New York City for very long and he finds a white-haired girl who looks so much like Lili. 

For now, he pushes away the nagging question of why she knows how to fight in favour of preventing her from being kidnapped. Slade might be out of armour, but the men sent are pathetic, no match for him. And the only reason they are still alive is because killing people in front of your potential child is a terrible thing to do at a first meeting.

“I thought you’d kill them,” says the girl bluntly. “Aren’t you supposed to be Deathstroke? Mom said you did.”

Rose, his mind provides, the name Billy had mentioned. “And you must be Rose. As much as I’d like to know you better, let’s get you out of here first.”

He sends Rose to wait outside the alleyway and after a moment, he decides on killing them. No loose ends, they’d seen his face and had seemed rather determined to capture her.

It’s hard to explain how he knows that Rose is his daughter – besides the way she’s a mix of him and Lili in appearance. But it’s like back when he met Medea for the first time. There’s just something there that instinctively tells him that she is his daughter.

Also, the longer he talks to Rose, the more he’s sure of it. Because of the many, many people he’s met, nobody comes close to the chaos that his children sow – it doesn’t even matter if it’s intentional or not. Yeah, if this wasn’t proof she was his, he doesn’t know what is. 

Still, something is nagging at the back of his mind. Lillian. “Please don’t tell me you just left without a word.”

Rose glanced down and shuffled her feet awkwardly. 

He fought the urge to sigh. “Let’s get you back to her before she becomes more worried than she already is.”

While some of the women at the brothel give him the side-eye, nobody says anything as Rose tugs him along. Not when Rose is chattering a million words a minute at him. It’s the years of experience with three other children that allow him to keep up. 

Absentmindedly, he noted the other children present in one of the rooms they passed. Some much older, others much younger. 

And he’s right about Lillian being worried, because the moment she catches sight of Rose, she sweeps her into her arms. She looks maybe a little older since they last crossed paths, but still the same strong woman he’d met years ago.

“Where have you been? You had me worried, dear.”

“Mom… you’re smothering me,” says Rose halfheartedly. Though she doesn’t let go of her mother either.

Mother and daughter forget about his existence, and Slade gives it a few moments before he gently interrupts. It’s just on time as Lillian remembers about him. “Hello Lillian, it’s been a while.”

“Yes,” she says half-dazedly from the shock before pulling herself together. “It has been a while, Slade.”

Rose is sent off on her own while Lillian brings him into an office of sorts. They both know why he’s here, and don’t bother with any more pleasantries.  

“I can hear you thinking it already. Yes, she’s your daughter too. But how did you…” she gestures to the door. “Wait, was it Wintergreen?”

Slade nods. 

She made a thoughtful sound. “And about earlier. Thank you.” At his raised brow, she adds, “The incident in the alley. Rose told me.”

“It’s nothing.”

“No, it’s not.” A weary look appears on her face. “I haven’t told anyone yet, but I suspect they will only be the first of many attempts.”

His eye narrowed. “This isn’t the first one? Have you found who's behind it?”

“The second, and no, I haven't.”

He offers his help. There’s nothing between them now, but it’s merely for Rose’s sake.

“And the fee for your help?” 

“Consider it waived. A favour for an old friend.”

A wry smile appeared on her face. “No demands? Truly?” He can practically hear her asking why he’s not demanding custody of Rose. 

Slade shrugged and gestured to his attire. “As you can see I’m offering as Slade Wilson, not as Deathstroke.” 

There’s a flicker of surprise in her eyes at that. “Alright,” she says slowly. “I’d appreciate it.”

Here at Lillian’s brothel, things are much more than they seem. People tend to underestimate courtesans, which makes their lips loose with what information they let slip. With that in place, Lillian has a wealth of information at her fingertips. 

With what information she has, he’s able to get a better idea of potential people who may be behind this. Though it doesn’t mean he likes it. 

More and more signs point to Wade LaFarge – his deranged, half-brother. 

The man was….twisted, to say the least. 

Slade still remembers the time that Wade had kidnapped Grant and Joey when they were toddlers, wanting to brainwash his children. He had never experienced true fear till that day. The terror of how close he was to losing his children permanently still haunted him sometimes. 

He wasn’t sure how La-Farge had survived the fall from the cliff, but he was intending to make sure the man stayed dead. 

Before he leaves, he asks, “Why didn’t you tell me about her?” They had parted on fairly good terms and although they hadn’t resumed their relationship, they still had the odd occasion where they crossed paths. He would have thought that would have extended to telling him that they had a child.

“Slade. Think about it. You’re one of the world’s most notorious men. Do forgive me, if that’s not enough of an explanation.” 

“I would never willingly put any of my children in danger.” He can’t help the slip of annoyance at the implication. 

“You have many enemies, Slade. I’m not looking for Rose to be used as a pawn against you. A risk that I didn’t want to take. Nor do I still want to.”

As much as it hurts, it’s true. Lillian has made her stance clear on his presence in Rose’s life, and it’s well based too. Slade fights the urge to grimace at the reminder it brings. So he nods. “I’ll let you know when the matter is settled,” he says in lieu of goodbye.

And when Rose accosts him on the way out asking if he’d come by again. He merely smiles and is apologetic when he turns her down. “Lillian and I think it might be better if I didn’t come around that often.”

She frowns. “Why not?”

“It’s safer for you.” After a moment, he hopes he is doing the right thing when he gives Rose one of his emergency numbers that all his children have. “Take it, it’s my private number. In case you ever need to reach me.”

“And you’ll pick up?”

“Yes.”  Always. 

Wade LaFarge is dead within the next forty-eight hours to his sword. Slade has never felt so relieved to have someone dead. With his death, he sends Lillian a short message. ‘The situation is handled.’

Back then, LaFarge was an annoyance at best. But with his foolish reveal that he’d been the main reason why Jackal had come after his boys back then, his fate was sealed. 

Nobody hurt his children and lived to tell the tale. 

His vision is a little blurry as he stumbles along the alleyway, back toward his hotel for the night. Leaning against the wall, he tries to wait for his healing to heal a bit more before he moves again. 

“Deathstroke?” says a young voice. There’s a slight tinge of panic, and if Slade squints he can see the white mop of hair hidden in the shadows. 

“I’m fine,” he says, trying desperately to not reveal how injured he was to her. “Just trying to heal. I’ll be out of your hair.”

“But you’re hurt! And–” Slade doesn’t catch what Rose says next because his vision has faded to black.

The next time he wakes, he’s back at the brothel. In one of the backrooms while Lillian gives him a look of exasperation. “You are a very reckless man,” she tells him when she bandages him, “But I have been thinking. Don’t get me wrong, I still maintain my beliefs, but this is because of Rose.”

“What is it?”

“Ever since she’s met you, she’s been rather vocal about wanting your presence in her life. And in light of recent events…I suppose you can.”

There’s a calculating look in Lillian’s eyes, so he knows there are strings attached. “What are your conditions?”

“If she ever changes her mind about you, you will respect it and stay away.”

“Done.”

The two sit in comfortable silence before he breaks it. “How is she? I hope I didn’t scare her.” 

“Rose is alright. A little shaken, I’ll send her your way when she wakes up.”

“Thanks.”

“If you don’t mind, may I ask who Medea is? You mumbled her name a few times when I was patching you up.”

Had he been that delirious? “My youngest.” He sits up despite Lillian’s frown. “She always worries that I’ll be hurt.” He shrugs, ignoring the wince of pain. “Thankfully, in a few hours, I’ll be healed up enough that she won’t have to fuss over it.”

“You know…I never imagined you,” She made a gesture. “As a caring father.” At his look, she hastily adds, “Not that I mean to offend. But it’s a little hard to reconcile you with the man I met years back.”

He offers her a wry smile. Perhaps it would be true in another universe where he never met Medea, and he continued jumping from contract to contract. But he doesn’t care for what-ifs now. “Things change, Lillian.”

Lillian and he hammer out an agreement between themselves regarding Rose. It’s similar to the one he has with Shiva, though he’s the one in Shiva’s position as Rose lives with her mother most of the time.

And as Lillian had said earlier, she sends Rose his way and he gets to know his daughter a little better. 

He leaves New York a little lighter. And also a little more worried. 

Because now how does he reveal the existence of a child to his other children? A snide voice in his head tells him he should know, considering he did this years ago with Medea’s existence. 

When he returns home, he sees that even Joey is here. It only solidifies that it is better to tell them sooner or later.

“Kids… I need to tell you something.”

“Okay,” says Medea, already noticing how stressed he looked. Gently, she taps his hand four times – two long, then two short – a gesture he hasn’t seen since her almost non-verbal toddler days. He hadn’t understood it then, but perhaps that had been how she comforted him, as it only appeared when he was stressed.

At his serious demeanour, Grant and Joey exchange a glance but nod in agreement.

Slade quite literally has no plan. Except to present it as is. So he tells them what exactly his trip had entailed. 

“Another sibling,” says Grant slowly, having looked up from his phone finally during all this. There’s a look brewing in Grant’s eyes – one reminiscent of Adeline when she was furious. “And how many do we actually have?”

This is the type of reaction he feared when he first introduced Medea to him years ago. “Grant. Nothing cha–” 

“Of course it does. You want us to meet her. What’s next? A secret family that you've been hiding from all of us?” Rather than waiting for an answer, he left the room. 

The bang of the front door does nothing to faze the two children left behind. 

“You’re taking this fairly well,” he notes carefully.

Joey shrugged. “I...well, it’s definitely a surprise, but I don’t know how to react. I guess I’ll make up my mind when I meet her.” 

It doesn’t escape his notice that Joey says ‘when’ and not ‘if’. 

From beside her brother, Medea looked lost in thought, though there was a hopeful look in her eyes when she asks “So...does this mean that I’m not the baby anymore?”

An awkward cough comes from him. His youngest is a little too earnest to hear that. “She’s a little older than you, Princess.” The nickname slips out unthinkingly and it says something that Medea doesn’t protest at its appearance. 

“Okay, then I don’t want to meet her anymore.” 

Joey couldn’t help the grin from appearing. “Don’t be so shallow, Medi,” he signed. “Don’t you want another older sibling?”

“Not really. The two of you are annoying enough. Hey!” For her words, he’d flicked her forehead gently. 

Slade couldn’t help but internally wince at her bluntness. Medea had her brothers wrapped around her finger, so chances are if she didn’t like Rose, things would go very, very wrong. There’s no bite to her words though. “She would be an older sister,” he offers carefully.

Medea paused at that and Slade wondered perhaps if that hadn’t been a great thing to say. After a moment, she grudgingly says, “I guess an older sister would be different from an older brother. What’s her name?”

“Rose.”

They ask a few more random things. Like her favourite colour or her age before they agree that it’s probably better if they ask Rose herself about these things. 

Medea looks a little less tense now, but that doesn’t stop her from slipping into his study after dinner. 

“What’s wrong?” he asks after a moment. 

“Will...will you still– I know that Rose–” She paused, unsure how to phrase her question. Instead, she looked at him with eyes full of guilt. Unconsciously, she fiddled with the ring hanging by her neck.

Oh. He understood now. “Hey, nothing is going to change how I see you. You’re still my daughter no matter what.” Slade motioned for her to come to the side of his desk.

“What if she hates me?”

“I don’t think she would. Give her a chance to get to know you first? I know it's daunting for you, but you have to realize that it’s the same for her too. She’s meeting the three of you for the first time too.”

“What if I don’t like her?”

“It...” He paused before continuing. “While I would love for all of you to get along, I know that I can’t force it. If...if you don’t, all I can ask is that you treat her with respect when she’s here.”

She hummed in agreement. “Okay.”  

A comfortable silence passed between the two of them and he let her hug him. 

“Dad?” At his hum, she continued, “Je t’aime.”

He gives her a soft smile at that. “Je t’aime aussi. Toujours.”

Offhandedly, Medea wondered if her parents had worked together to spring this on her. 

First, there was Cassandra. Now there was Rose, who she still hadn’t met yet. 

“Can you believe it? Joey wants me to meet her,” complains Grant as he comes out of his room to find her sitting on his couch. 

From her side of the couch, she hums a sound of acknowledgement. 

“Medi, you’re not even listening, are you?” He waved a hand in front of his sister's face, and she didn’t even blink. All she did was nod. Sighing, Grant took the book out of her hands and sat beside her. 

“I was listening,” she complains, as she made grabby hands for her book. “So why can’t you meet her?”

“She’s my half -sister.” 

At that, she snapped to attention. “As am I,” says Medea, trying and maybe failing to keep her voice even. 

“Medi–”

“Don’t you ‘Medi’ me,” she says with a frown. “I didn’t know I was expendable.”

“You’re not.” 

“Then why did you say ‘half-sister’ as if it answered everything?”

“It’s different.”

She crossed her arms. “Explain.”

“I–” At her stubborn look, Grant gave in after a moment. 

He explains what irks him the most, Rose’s age. If she’d been Medea’s age or younger, he says that maybe things would be a little easier. But the fact that she isn’t is what he doesn’t like. 

Nobody likes having the knowledge that their father was unfaithful to their mother while they were still married. It’s a little harder to swallow when your father has been a hero in your eyes for so long. 

But Medea points out a fatal flaw. Why is he taking it out on Rose then? 

Grant still has mixed feelings about her, even if Joey has been telling both of them that Rose is easy to get along with. 

They don’t talk too much about the whole affair. Grant mentions he’ll talk it over with Dad later. 

Unfortunately, this talk also makes Medea come to terms with the fact she has her reservations about meeting Rose. She knows that Cassandra and Rose are two different people. But she’s hesitant to get close to another sibling again, particularly one she hasn’t grown up with. 

What if she leaves too? Medea doesn’t want to grow close to someone just to be forgotten about again.

Grant points out that while he understands where she’s coming from – she shouldn’t form such opinions before meeting her. 

The two make a pact, Grant will give her a chance if she does as well. 

Still, even though she confides in someone about her fears, it doesn’t stop them from resurfacing when she meets Rose for the first time. 

Joey brings her along and squeezes her hand in support when he notices her worry. 

But it’s all for naught because Rose is a lot warmer than she imagines, nicer too. 

They get along a little too well to Joey’s exasperation. “No, Rose. Please don’t teach her how to dropkick someone. She’ll do it at school, then Pops will have my head on a platter.”

Medea sticks out her tongue at him. “Too late. Besides, you know that I won’t do it to anyone who doesn’t deserve it.”

“Stop picking fights at school, Medi.”

“Make me.”

Rose laughs, amused at their bickering. “Medea–”

“Medi,” she offers to Joey’s delight. “You can call me that if you’d like.” 

“Well, Medi, I have a feeling that you’re going to be my favourite sibling.”

Joey mock gasps. “Rose? You’re betraying me like this?”

“Sorry Joey, but it’s the truth,” she says with a small shrug. “I can see it in my future,” she says in a faux-serious tone. Her sister winks conspiratorially at her. 

Later she’ll muse over Rose’s words. It’s an odd phrasing, yet it’s the truth causing Medea to wonder if Rose is a meta like Joey. 

But that was a problem for the future. For now, she was happy with what she had.

Chapter Text

Rose slots into his family fairly well. With Joey and Medea, they get along almost like they’ve grown up together. With Grant, his eldest is cordial – and that’s pretty much the extent of the relationship between those two. It’s more than he can ask for, and Slade doesn’t ask for anything more from his eldest.

Medea latches onto the fact she has another sister well enough that the two often meet up whenever she comes to New York City. And considering Medea had a class once a week here, it was often enough that he felt alright asking for a small favour. “Rose, could you pick up Medea from skating today?” 

“I don’t mind, but isn’t Joey closer?”

Joey was indeed much closer, but recent events had made Slade reevaluate whether he should even ask his sons such a request. “Your brothers have been temporarily banned from picking her up from any event.”

“Why?” The curiosity is apparent in her eyes. 

“Let’s just say I’ve got much more faith in you.”

“Thanks?”

“It’s a compliment,” he assures her as he sends her off with the address. Hopefully, this time, he doesn’t have to hear about Medea being abducted. 

It’s Friday. And every other Friday, Medea has a skating lesson in New York City. This was on top of the weekly ones she already had back home. 

Except Grant wasn’t sure if it had been this Friday or the next one that she’s in town. Last Friday had been a holiday and he’s not sure how to take it into account. 

Pops was being ridiculous. Temporarily banning them from picking Medea up. He had a day off – never mind he was in charge of his schedule – and Joey was also free, so they were obviously going to pick her up from skating.

Joey peered over his shoulder.

Grant caught the questioning look. “No luck,” he says. “Any luck on your end?”

His brother shook his head and signed, “Pop didn’t respond to my text either.”

His eyes caught onto the glint of silver as Joey’s hand moved. “Oh.” A gleeful look appeared on his face. “Why don’t we just find her then?”

Following his gaze down, Joey noted the ring and grinned. 

It’s not hard to find where Medea is, her ring shows that she’s in the city and the two brothers exchange a triumphant look.

Heh. Let that be a lesson to Pops. 

But they’re in for a surprise when they arrive. It’s ten minutes past five and their sister is nowhere in sight to their growing panic. She hadn’t been kidnapped, right? Right?

Recognizing one of Medea’s friends, Grant approached them. “Have you seen my sister?” 

“She’s been picked up already.” The boy gave them a dubious look as if questioning how they wouldn’t have known such.

“By who?”

“Her sister?”

The brothers exchanged a glare. “Rose!”

Somewhere in the city, Rose sneezed. “Excuse me.”

“Bless you,” says Medea automatically. 

“Thanks,” she says, ruffling her hair. “Now, I promised you that I’d show you the best ice cream in the city. Shall we go?”

“Yeah!”

Things were going quite well. She’s been picked up from skating– with no kidnappings. But sometimes all it takes to ruin a good day is a single person. From far away, Medea spots who she suspects to be Cass and she prays that they don’t turn around. 

“Can…can we go now?” asks Medea, the moment Rose returned from the washroom. 

“Now? But I thought–”

 “Please?” She bats her eyes and lays it on thick. “I really want to see your car.”

Rose raised an eyebrow though she agreed. 

“Medea?” asks a familiar voice. 

Instinctively, she glances in the direction of the voice and immediately berates herself for her stupidity. There across the room was Cass who was staring right at her in shock. 

“Let’s leave. Now!” she says, tugging Rose out the door.

They don’t make it very far – barely a few blocks out – when Cass catches up to them. Without a second thought, Medea hid behind her sister. Rose crossed her arms as  she looked Cass up and down. 

A gesture that had Cass bristling. “Medea–”

When Medea made no move to move out from behind her, Rose says, “I don’t think she wants to talk to you right now. Who are you?”

“Her sister.” There was an annoyance from her, probably from the fact that she had to explain their relationship. “And you?”

Medea’s heart clenched at Cass easily calling herself her sister. She moved out from behind Rose with a glare. “My sister.”

“Sister, please–” 

“You sure took your time to remember me.”

Cass took a small step back at her voice. “Medea,” she tries carefully. 

“I’m not a toy for you to pick up whenever you want.”

“Let me explain,” she signs, hands moving quickly. “Please.”

“No. You don’t get to forget about me and come back when it’s convenient for you. Face it, you weren’t here for me today either, were you?” Medea could sign, and make the conversation private, but she’s feeling petty today and Rose wasn’t quite as good at interpreting ASL yet. Particularly with how fast Cass was signing. 

Her sister’s silence is enough of an answer.

The truth was there, but she had hoped that things would be different. That she would be wrong. “I knew it,” she says haughtily, trying to hide how she really felt. 

A variety of emotions flickered on Cass’ face. “Please,” she signs, “Give me five minutes, I will explain everything.”

“Everything?” asks Medea. She studied her sister intently. “Promise?”

She nods. But her gaze flickers to Rose and then back to her. 

“Oh no, you don’t–” starts Rose. “I’m not leaving her alone with you.”

“Rose…”

“Medea, you were dragging me out the door earlier when you saw her. I don’t feel safe leaving you here.” Ignoring the dark look Cass shot her, Rose powered on, “I will sic our brothers on you if needed.”

“Rose!” Now that was a betrayal if Medea ever heard one. “No, it’s fine. She won’t hurt me.” Well, not physically. Maybe emotionally. “Five minutes please?” From her arsenal, she pulled out her puppy dog eyes, ones that Dad could never say no to. 

And within seconds, Rose sighs, giving in. “Fine. Five minutes and not a second less.” Grumpily, she stomped about a few feet away. At her look, she backed away another foot or two, pretending to be interested in the wooden bench beside her. 

“Okay,” says Medea, turning her attention back to Cass. “Explain then.”

So Cass does. She explains everything, like the unfortunate events that led to her slip of paper being lost before she had the chance to memorize the number. And yes, Medea knows how stubborn her sister is. Not once after leaving Mom’s place behind, did Cass seek out Shiva. And in turn, Shiva does the same, only keeping tabs from far away. 

Medea's existence itself is purposely made hard to find – all her siblings are. She knows because Dad has measures put into place to prevent people from making the connection between Deathstroke and Slade Wilson. If anything it’d probably hindered Cass’ search for her. The name of a city isn’t very useful when its population is rather large. 

Not once does her sister lie. Her apology is genuine, and she earnestly seeks Medea’s forgiveness.

Still, Medea has mixed feelings. So what if she could infer so much from someone’s body language? It only told her about the present, nothing about the future. What if it happened again? What if Cass has another ‘good’ explanation the next time? It doesn’t take away how much it hurt.

For now, all she agrees is to take Cass' number. The piece of paper feels heavy in her pocket when the five minutes are up and Medea leaves with Rose. 

“So…” starts Rose carefully. “Is she the reason why you asked if I’d ever forget you?” At her nod, she adds, “The sister from your mom’s side.”

“Yeah.”

“Oh.”

The walk back toward Rose’s home is quiet for the most part. Eventually though, Rose pries a conversation from her about a party that her friends from skating had invited her to. 

“It’s probably a good thing that you asked me and not–”

From an alleyway stumble out Grant and Joey, startling them. 

“Grant?” asks Medea warily. “Why are you here?”

“I should ask you the same thing. We’ve been looking for you!”

Rose and she exchanged a glance. 

Though Rose snickers to their chagrin when they learn of their brothers’ reasons for hunting her down. “I can’t believe it. Kidnapping her in broad daylight.”

“It’s not funny,” complains Medea. “Rose, you promised not to laugh.” 

“I know, but it kind of is funny.”

Joey sighs, head in his hands. “This is so embarrassing.”

“It wouldn’t be if you didn’t kidnap her,” says Rose unhelpfully to all three of their groans. 

The sharp click of heels tapped impatiently beside him, distracting him from his book. After a minute, Slade gave up, looking up to meet the owner of the sound. “You already know that she’s in New York. So what is it?” Why are you here?

“I’m curious.” As she sat down across from him, Shiva studied him like a predator did with its prey. “You are a very strange person.” 

He raised an eyebrow. “Is this about her siblings?” 

She smiles and he knows his guess was correct. Neither of them has told Medea that what she learns from either of them is to be kept private, so it isn’t surprising that Shiva knows of Rose’s existence, but he is surprised that Shiva is here. 

“Can we not do this today?” He closed the book, slipping a bookmark in. After all, he wasn’t a savage and Medea’s revulsion of dog-eared books had to have come from someone. 

“Why not?”

“For one, we’re in public.” He gestures to the civilians around them at the outdoor café. At his pathetic attempt to stall, she rolled her eyes. 

Slade finds that he has a million things running through his mind, but none that he can voice out. 

Because his last conversation with Adeline had been their most explosive to date once Rose’s existence had been revealed. Yes, he had an affair during their marriage. And yes, Rose was the product of said affair. One that had ended the moment he’d brought Lillian to Thailand. 

It doesn’t erase the proof of his infidelity and there is nothing he can do to justify his actions. Nor does he try to find a reason to. All he wished was that Rose didn’t have to bear the brunt of the hate. 

Perhaps it would have been easier if his other children had hated her, or if Rose didn’t want anything to do with him nor his family. But Slade finds that he can’t wish such a scenario on his children either. Maybe Adeline was right, he is a selfish and greedy man. Only knowing how to take and take from others and not knowing how to reciprocate. 

In the end, he settles for, “I didn’t know about her till recently. Medea must have mentioned her?” 

“In passing, yes.” She takes a sip from her drink, frowning at the taste. “You seemed surprised by my reaction. Would you rather I made a scene?”

He slid the sugar packets in her direction. “No. You’re just taking this a lot better than I thought.”

Shiva shrugs gracefully, taking two of the packets and adding them to her coffee. “Medea likes her and that is enough for me. Besides, her existence and our arrangement had no crossover. Not like we had specified anything then either.” She stirred her coffee. “Though for such a detail-oriented man like you, I’d thought you'd be a lot more cautious and slow to act.”

Oh. Now they were getting somewhere.

“You didn’t complain then with Medea’s reveal,” he counters. He noted privately how her brows furrowed because he was right. If anything, she’d seemed pleased back then that he’d accepted Medea as his so easily. 

“Call it a father’s intuition if you must. But had Rose been younger than Medea, things may have changed.” Shiva’s curiosity is piqued and he doesn’t care to hide it from her because it changed nothing. “Once I’d found out about Medea's existence, things had to change.”

Over the years, even before Medea’s birth, many had claimed to his children, a close relative – and it had always been a lie. There was always a motive, whether it was simply to gain Deathstroke as an ally or as a way to hurt him.

Slade was careful, yes. But despite his plans – he loved them both dearly, but were his daughters not proof that the best-laid plans could change? – he decided to play it safe. Any child younger than Medea and claiming to be his was impossible through the usual route that children were produced from. 

“Oh?” The single word veils many silent questions and demands. The biggest one might be – And what does this mean for our daughter?

“I had a procedure done for myself because not everyone is like us,” he says simply. Not everyone views their children as children. 

Shiva tilted her head slightly as she took in his appearance. 

He didn’t shy away from her gaze. There was nothing to hide. 

“I know,” she says simply. “Sometimes for how easy you are to read, you are an enigma, Slade Wilson.”

Shiva was worried, he realized. Otherwise, she wouldn’t seek him out like this. Not for him – because that was a ridiculous notion – but for Medea. Or rather what the appearance of Rose meant for their daughter. 

He wondered – if Shiva now thought what Billy had brought up years ago. That he’d grow tired of Medea, and fob her off to someone when that happened. An impossible thought. “Nothing changes,” he says firmly. “And nothing will change the fact that Medea is mine.” Her importance to me does not change. It never will. 

She merely hummed in acknowledgement as she got up. “Come.” Shiva turned back to glance at him. “I wish for a challenge. Spar with me.” It was an order, not a request. 

“You and I have very different definitions of sparring,” he says tiredly. Sometimes, sparring with her was the equivalent of a death match. Still, he got up. 

“I’m sure we can come to an arrangement or two.” 

“An arrangement?” The corners of his mouth can’t help but threaten to twitch upwards.

The laugh that leaves her is bright. As they fell into step beside each other, she elaborated, “Two hours on her birthday.” 

Only two hours with Medea? There were 24 hours in a day and Slade wanted – rightfully so! – more than two. “You’re too stingy, sweetheart. I want six.”

“And you used to call me ruthless,” she retorts, “look who’s talking now.”

He grins. “Don’t you know my reputation? You should have expected nothing less from me.” 

To the unknown passerby, the way they tried to defend their reason for how many hours they should have with Medea, one might have thought Medea’s birthday was just around the corner. 

But it was closer to March than August. Deathstroke and Lady Shiva were just different. 

Originally, the plan after Rose picked her up was to hang out till the party, but with their brothers’ sudden appearance, they switched plans and went to a nearby park. It is a more neutral place, considering that Grant and Rose are polite if not detached around each other. Eventually, they get hungry, and it takes the better part of an hour before they agree on a restaurant.

“Be back by ten and not a minute later,” says Grant as the four of them dug into their food from an Indian restaurant.

“But–” 

He leans in close, so only their table could hear him. “I will kidnap you as Ravager in public.”

Joey snickered at Medea’s look of horror. It didn’t go unnoticed to her that he didn’t tell Grant not to do so. 

“The party starts at nine though!”

“And did you ask if you can go to this party?” asks Grant. Both Joey and Rose shoot him a knowing look and he admits wryly, “Okay, yeah you got me. You can go. Who are you going with anyways?”

“My friends from skating.”

“Will there be drinking?” asks Joey, his voice emitting from his phone.

Medea looks at him puzzled. “I mean, I guess? So nobody dies of thirst?”

“He means alcohol,” corrects Rose. 

She blinked as her siblings exchanged a look that she couldn’t decipher.

“This is probably your first party with older kids, so let’s set some ground rules,” says Joey. 

“Don’t do anything I would do, or anything I wouldn’t do,” offers Grant.  

“That’s a very small leeway you’re giving her.” To Medea, he said, “Don’t drink anything that you didn’t pour and if it’s placed down, don’t drink from it again.”

“And if you feel in over your head, you can call us,” adds Rose, “We won’t judge.” 

“We might laugh just a little. Hey–” Grant glared at Joey, who had elbowed him.  

“Not helpful.” 

“Fine. I’ll laugh, but we’ll still come to help you.”

Faintly, Medea wondered if this was the fate of the youngest as her siblings bicker over who would drop her off. A debate that Grant won. 

Though she can’t help but sigh when one of her friends flirts with Grant, who looked amused at the attention. 

“You know, your brother is rather handsome and I can see the appeal,” says Heather, watching as Araminta tried and failed to get his number. “That is if I was into guys.”

Medea rolled her eyes. People flirting with her siblings was an unfortunate habit she had become used to. It used to be worse when Grant played hockey at the local ice rink back home because he had girls lining up just to flirt with him. “Do you want my sister’s number instead?” she says sarcastically. “She’s actually your age.”

“If it’s the cutie that picked you up today, then I’m all ears,” teased Heather, ruffling Medea’s hair to her protests. “Oh don’t complain, honey, it looks cute mussed up like this. Don’t you think?”

The other members agree to Medea’s chagrin. 

The rink back home separates most of them mostly due to skill level and age. Unfortunately for Medea, there weren’t others her age at the rink who were near her skill level. So the instructors grouped her with the older kids that were at a higher skill level. Luckily, they hadn’t minded and Heather, the unspoken leader of the group had taken her under her wing. 

And so every other Friday, Medea would join them for lessons here. They’d stay for Saturday morning for more advanced lessons while she usually went home or stayed the weekend at Grant’s place.

Still, as happy as she was that she made friends with them, Medea couldn’t help the small sigh as they talked about how cute all her siblings were. She supposed it could be worse. They could be talking about her parents instead. 

The party was alright. It was better than that dance she’d gone to, considering no sweaty guys were trying to ask her to dance. But she found it slightly boring since most people were more interested in flirting with her friends than talking to a thirteen-year-old. 

Which was fair, the party consisted mostly of kids older than her. She met one boy who was her age, but he seemed more interested in shutting himself in his room than talking.

Speaking of dancing, Araminta taught her to dance to the music and giggled in approval. “See, you’re a natural.”

Dancing is a general term – she and the other girls sort of just laugh and vibe along to the music. There are no rules, which she enjoys. 

Like Joey had guessed, alcohol is brought out – the punch is spiked and people hand out cups of drinks. Somehow Medea finds herself holding one. 

Remembering Joey’s advice and her former experience with red wine, she poured it down the drain to Heather’s amusement. 

“You’re not missing out,” agrees the older girl, taking a sip from her cup. She grimaced at the taste. “It’s terrible.” Joining her by the kitchen sink, she poured out the rest down the sink. 

Soon, Medea grew bored of the party and decided to wander out to the balcony for a breather. 

“Hey~” slurs out a slightly older boy as she stands out there. 

She ignored him in favour of pulling out the cell phone she had gotten for her thirteenth birthday. On the group chat, she sees that nobody has said anything yet. Looking over her list of contacts, she clicks on Grant’s name and types out a message. 

Within a few minutes, her phone buzzed and she had an answer from Grant offering to pick her up, something she eagerly took him up on. 

While waiting for Grant to arrive, Medea finds herself growing more and more annoyed as the minutes pass. The boy that was also on the balcony was irritating – clearly ignoring her attempts for silence. 

He keeps getting closer, and Medea eyed the balcony door with each passing moment. 

But before she could even step a foot in that direction, he cut off her exit. “Hey, I just wanted to talk.”

“I think I hear my friends calling for me,” she lies. The music in the background was blaring and they both knew it. 

“Don’t be silly, they can’t hear us from here.”

Why was he leaning in? There wasn’t much space on the balcony, and Medea could feel her panic growing as he came closer. “I’m not interested.”

“That’s what they all say at first.”

Soon, she could feel the metal railing behind her. 

In the split second Medea has left before his lips can get that close to her, she strikes his solar plexus, knocking the air out of him. He doubled down slightly in surprise, allowing her to knock him out. 

He slumps over and she has to shove his unconscious body off of her. Carefully, she peeked out the balcony door to see if anyone inside had seen. Thankfully, the curtains had blocked them from view. 

Though she almost screams when she sees Ravager sitting on the railing. “Oh my god, did you just–”

Grant hummed in greeting. “Nice work.” He gets up to nudge the boy roughly with his foot. “He deserves nothing less.”

“Why are you here?”

“You asked me to pick you up?”

Medea stared at him. “I thought you’d arrive the same way you picked me up.”

“Sure, if you wanted to wait for a half-hour with how the traffic is right now. 

She squinted at him, unsure how to interpret that. It was both true and a lie. 

“Never mind that, do you want to leave or not?” He offers a hand out to her. “Let’s go.”

“Wait. I need to grab my jacket. And let my friends know I’m leaving.”

He sighed dramatically. “Fine. Go ahead, I’ll meet you on the roof then.”

She nodded before slipping past the balcony door. 

Slipping back in, she quickly found her jacket and worked on finding her friends. She moved around the room once before she found Heather heading to the washroom. It’s there she finds Araminta holding back Eric’s hair as he vomits into the toilet bowl. 

“Honey, we were getting worried. We didn’t see you for a bit,” says Heather. “You’re alright?”

She nods. “I just wanted to let you know I’m heading out. My brother’s picking me up.” She sends Eric a worried glance, but he waves her off. 

“Still alive,” he rasps out. “I knew I shouldn’t have drank that last cooler.”

“Alright, let me come with. Or do you have to go right now?” asks Araminta. 

“Right now,” she says apologetically. That, and it would be hard explaining why Grant was dressed as a mercenary on a rooftop. 

Heather and Araminta exchanged a worried look but nodded. “Text us then when he’s picked you up,” orders Heather. 

“Okay.”

She slips out the front door fairly easily, and once she finds the fire escape doors, she climbs the few flights left to reach the roof. 

“Ready?” asks Grant, waiting for her. 

“One moment.” She pulls out her phone and sends a text to her friends that she’s been picked up. From the edge of the rooftop, she peeked out to see a car pulling up to pick up her friends. “Yeah, we’re good now.”

He held out his arms, and she put her arms around his neck before he jumped from this roof to the next. As the youngest and subsequently, shortest in her family, Dad and most of her siblings have demonstrated that she is prime kidnapping size. 

Medea wished she’d get her growth spurt soon. The genetics were in her favour, right? Mom was tall. Dad was even taller. 

“Do we have to go home?”

She could see his hesitation. “I don’t know, it’s getting late. And I don’t want you out so late alone.”

“What if I stick with you?” 

“Maybe.” But Medea knew she had him.

Medea did not, in fact, have her brother in her grasp. Rather than being able to convince her brother, they ended up returning to his place.

“It’s well past your bedtime. Now off to bed, or you’ll be forever a midget,” he teased. 

She stuck out her tongue in protest. It wasn’t that late. It was only ten o’clock! 

In protest, she planted herself on the couch and opened up the novel that Mom had recently gotten her. 

“If you fall asleep on the couch, I’m leaving you there,” warns Grant as he sat beside her. “I’m not Pops, you know.”

“You won’t need to. Because I’m not sleepy.”

He made a sound of disbelief. “Of course not.”

It’s a quiet night in for her and Grant. He’s busy flipping between channels trying to find something interesting to watch while she tries to progress through Emma. 

Eventually, her brother sighed when his endeavours were fruitless. He glanced at her and cleared his throat. “There’s a car race nearby if you’re not too tired.”

Medea lowered her book. “What kind of car race?” She hadn’t heard of any competitions nearby. 

“The fun kind.” He grinned. “What do you say?”

In less than twenty minutes, they find themselves in a parking lot that felt like it was in the middle of nowhere and milling amongst the crowd. Cars were parked everywhere – some cars looked like they were found in a junkyard while others looked as if they had just rolled off the lot at some luxury dealership.  

“Keep up,” sighed Grant as he had to turn back to find Medea looking like a deer caught in headlights. “This is the third time I’ve had to turn back and look for you.”

After that, Medea kept a firm grip on her brother’s leather jacket. It was practically his second skin with how often he wore it when he was a civilian. This way, it guaranteed that she remained attached to Grant. 

As they wandered, they occasionally stopped whenever people came over to talk to Grant before continuing on their way. Her brother points out a few cars and motorbikes and introduces her to some drivers while telling her to stay clear of others. It’s all the time that she’s spent with Dad fixing cars that the things they mention don’t fly over her head– well that and Grant whispers hints on what to say. 

“Aren’t you a little too young to be at these events?” The high-pitched voice grated on her ears. “Shouldn’t you be home, honey ?” There was something in the voice that made her dislike it on principle.

Medea turned just in time to dodge the neon-coloured talons coming her way. When they tried again to grab her, she frowned. But before she could even form a retort, a hand landed on her shoulder. This one is more welcome once she caught sight of the watch on the owner’s wrist.

“Ronnie,” says Grant disinterestedly. “Speak of the harpy.”

The girl scowled. “Wilson. This doesn’t involve you.”

“On the contrary. I’d advise you to keep your paws off my sister.”

“Or what?”

Grant took a step closer. “Do you really want to find out?” With that, he led Medea away. 

“It’s very unfortunate that you had to meet her,” says Viktor, one of Grant’s friends as they rejoin his friends. “On your first meet too.”

“It’s not the true experience if you don’t meet her,” jokes Amala. “But yes, it does spoil the mood.”

“Who is she?” asks Medea. 

“One of the racers with a grudge against your dear brother.”

Grant rolled his eyes. “A sore loser. It’s not my fault she sucks.”

“Keep it down, supernova. I’m not dragging you out of another fight with her boyfriend,” sighed Viktor.

“One I was winning.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. But I don’t want to piss off her mob enforcer boyfriend.” 

“Moretti is a low-level thug that nobody cares about and–” Grant stopped in the middle of the sentence and frowned at the car that drifted past them. “Is he serious? I cannot believe him!” He tugs Medea along, and she waves goodbye at his friends who looked amused as they wave back, watching her being maneuvered around like a rag doll.

They end up in front of a rather plain-looking vehicle and – oh, she could see what had caught Grant’s attention. Joey was getting out of the driver’s seat, handing the keys back to Rose, who'd been in the passenger seat. 

“Are you serious?” hissed Grant. “Joey, when I called you a goody-two-shoes, I didn’t mean, hey go participate in a street race.” Then he turned to Rose. “I’m willing to bet he doesn’t know you’re here either.”

Any apology that Joey had died when he spotted Medea behind Grant. “Hypocrite,” he signs before gesturing to her. “You brought her here?”

“Hey, what’s that supposed to mean?” asks Medea indignantly. If she was old enough to know how to take a grown man down, then she was well within her rights to stay up late and watch a race. 

None of her siblings paid her words any attention. 

“Medi isn’t participating,” points out Grant. “And this isn’t the point. Neither of you are participating. I’m not going to be the one that has to explain to our old man why two of his children are arrested for street racing.”

“Oh, please. Like we’d be caught.” From the driver’s seat, Rose scoffed at the thought. “You underestimate me. Besides, the car’s mine. You can stop Joey, maybe. But I’m driving regardless.”

The debate doesn’t get any further when people start rushing around them. Some running, some at a more leisurely pace. But what they all have in common is that they are heading for their cars. 

Lights flashed in the distance, and soon she could hear the sirens. 

“Wanna bet the exits are all sealed?” says Grant smugly. “From experience, I’d say your window to escape is off.”

“Mom is going to kill me,” whispers Rose under her breath. 

Joey looks a little pale at the thought of being caught. “All sealed?” he signs frantically. 

“Well, there’s a few left. If you know where to look,” says Grant airily. 

Rose and Joey exchanged a look. 

“I’m not asking him! The car is my baby–”

“He might be our best bet,” signs Joey. To Grant, he sends a pleading look. 

“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe if you ask nicely?” When nobody said anything, he tugged Medea to catch her attention. “Come on, let’s get you back home.”

Joey looks wide-eyed at the thought of Grant leaving them behind. “But you said the exits were sealed–”

“Unlike you two, I didn’t drive here,” says Grant, with a mean little smile. “Now, have a good night.”

“Fine,” mutters Rose after a moment. “Will you please help us?”

“Keys.” He made a motion for her to get out. 

“What?!”

“Tick tock.”

“Fine. But I call shotgun.”

He shrugs, already opening the back seat for Medea. “Suit yourself. Buckle in, kids.”

“If you so much as scratch my car–” threatens Rose. 

“Yeah, yeah. I know. Trust me.”

What follows is the ride of her life – in which Medea enjoys the speed, but not so much the circumstances. There are all too many police cars patrolling nearby, and Rose’s car can be heard coming from a mile away with how modified the engine is. 

Grant drove like their lives depended on it. Which it might. Dad’s disappointment could be a very strong motivator to not get caught. Also, Dad would tell her mother what she’d been up to, one look from Shiva is far worse than any scolding. 

“Where are you going?” asks Joey, having hooked up his speaker to his phone. 

“My place.”

“What? But I’ve got to get back home. And my car–” squawked Rose.

“With the stunt we pulled to get out of the lot, they’re going to be combing the streets for this car tonight.” He hit the gas, changing in and out of lanes quickly. “Shit, there’s still one left.”

Out of nowhere, Rose screeches. “Take a right at the light.”

“What?” he sputtered. “It’s red and we’ll get hit by oncoming traffic.”

“We won’t.” 

“I’m not betting our lives on this.”

“Do it if you don’t want us to die!” she screams.

At her outburst, Grant listens. Because as hysterical as it is, there’s a nagging sense in the back of his mind that tells him that he’ll regret it otherwise. So he turns right, and they barely avoid the traffic. 

There’s a loud bang from behind them. Medea turned her head to look out the rearview window. Had they not turned, a safe would have hit their car, smashing the car roof in. “Holy sh–”

“Language,” corrects Joey automatically. He’s as pale as her as he takes in the scene. “Rose?”

Grant’s knuckles are white with how hard he’s gripping the steering wheel. “How?” he asks quietly. 

“I saw it happen. I couldn’t– ” stammers Rose. “They wouldn’t have survived.” No more words are needed to ask who ‘they’ referred to. 

The car ride back was practically silent, everyone was trying to cope with their near brush with death. Although most of her family led dangerous lifestyles, that was something they knew going into it. But earlier? Had that safe landed on their car, that would have been it. An accident that none of them would have been able to prevent. 

Grant is silent until Medea can spot his garage in the distance. “Thank you.”

“Does anyone else know?” asks Joey once the door to Grant’s flat closed behind everyone. “I’m assuming your mom already knows.”

“Just Dad.” After a moment, Rose says, “I would have told you guys, but–”

Medea shakes her head, understanding her perfectly. It would have been too soon; as close as they were, they hadn’t known each other that long to know how they could have reacted. 

“No, that’s fair,” agrees Joey. He gives her a wane smile. “You’re not the only one with powers here.”

 Her eyes widened. “All of you do too– wait, what?”

“It’s complicated.”

“Just Joey,” corrects Grant. “Medea’s is a bit more strange. It’s a natural ability, no meta-gene though.”

“Huh?”

“You ever notice that she’s a little too in-tune with everything?” He nudged his youngest sister. 

Tiredly, Medea nodded in agreement. “Rose, tell me something. Anything, just make one of them a truth and the other lie.”

Confused, she does and stares in shock when Medea guesses it right on the first try, then on every try after that too. 

And so it begins. They talk and talk, and Joey demonstrates a small extent of his powers. There’s the mutual agreement that nobody will talk about their near brush with death with any of their parents. Maybe they could years later, but for now, it was a secret they were taking to the grave. But eventually, the adrenaline from earlier dies down and they grow tired as the night goes on.

“Do you need to stay the night?”

Rose stared, bewildered at Grant’s offer. 

“It’s late and I rather none of my siblings wander the streets at this time.” He gestured to the landline by the corner. “You can use it to call your mom if you want.”

She blinked before slowly nodding. “Okay.”

Wandering over to the landline, they watch as Rose nervously dialled a number. She switched to a language that Medea didn’t understand. It doesn’t take more than a few minutes before Rose puts the phone down – she’s a little shaky, but less nervous than she was earlier. 

“Mom’s furious I snuck out,” she offers. “But she says it’s probably better that I stay the night.”

“I’ll get you pillows and blankets then,” says Grant, getting up from his spot. He disappears down the hall in search of them. “Can you share a room with Medea though?”

“I don’t mind. Medi?”

At her name, she nods, trying to stop the yawn from escaping. “Okay.”

The next morning when Dad arrives, he doesn’t question why the four of them look dead tired at Grant’s place. Or why Rose was there. This might mark the first time all four had stayed here. 

All Rose offers is, “I had to tell them.”

“Okay.”

He offers to drop Rose off, and the car ride there is silent. Rose lightly squeezes Medea’s hand in goodbye before she slips out. 

As Dad started the drive home, Medea sat in the backseat, playing with the piece of paper in her hand. The string of numbers seemed to mock her indecisiveness. Maybe this time…

She inputs the number into her phone. After another moment, she types out a short text. But before she could hit send, Medea hits the delete button and watches as the text cursor erased her words. She needed a little bit more time, and maybe some more sleep first.

Chapter Text

Slade glanced boredly around the rink, waiting for his youngest’s lesson to be over. As Medea had gotten older, it was clear that figure skating wasn’t a passing fancy for her. He has seen the way her eyes gleamed at the praise and the determination to continuously improve.

An Olympic hopeful whispered some. While Medea certainly didn’t show it outwardly, he could see how the idea intrigued her. Being on ice was where she flourished. She was dedicated and it certainly showed. 

They spent so many hours at the local ice arenas that he could tell you where the most insignificant of details were at each one. For example, here, the receptionist always took an extended lunch break – precisely ten more than they should have. 

Or how Medea and he had a silent agreement to always avoid a particular corner, for it was the one that Patricia and her kid frequented. Both took great lengths to avoid any interaction when possible. A fact that Billy thought was ridiculous, as did Shiva. Betrayal had never hurt any more than that.

Five minutes or so are left until they’re done for the day, but he finds a frown appearing on his face as he catches bits of the conversation between her and one of the coaches. 

“–you’re gaining a little weight here. That won’t do.”

Medea had furrowed her brows slightly as she listened to the coach. A look of uncertainty appeared and Slade was on his feet, approaching them.

A diet at her age? For her size? It was ridiculous. One would have thought that she was severely overweight with how the coach was describing things. 

A noise of protest escaped his daughter at some of the words. “But I’m not–”

“You’d be able to execute those jumps a lot better. Being lighter you’d be able to go higher and faster,” cuts in an unwelcome voice. “Sweetie, you’d understand that, no?”

Speak of the devil. Patricia.

He makes it before Medea is forced to answer. His hand lands on her shoulder in comfort. “I think,” he says quietly, “my daughter’s health is none of your concern.” His gaze landed on the coach in question. “Your concerns are entirely unwarranted, thank you.”

A pinched look appeared on the coach’s face. 

Then there was the look on Patricia’s face, full of condescension and her patronizing tone grated on his nerves as she not-so-bluntly said that he wouldn’t understand. Being a man and all. That if he loved his daughter he’d understand that this was the best for her. 

No, he understood enough. 

She goes on with her tirade, not realizing his growing ire. Or perhaps she chose to ignore it. 

What kind of father was he? How dare she – Normally, he had much more patience with this insufferable woman. But today, it snapped. “With all due respect, fuck off.” 

Patricia flushed a bright red. “Well, I never–”

He was done listening to her stupidity and maneuvered Medea toward her things. “Perhaps we should look into a different club. Evidently, this one isn’t any good.”

They don’t make it very far when Slade hears his name being called before they even step foot into the parking lot. 

“Mr. Wilson! Mr. Wilson, a word please!”

He turns to see one of the head coaches run after them. “Yes?” He didn’t say another word, instead, Slade watched as the woman shifted uncomfortably on the spot.

It turns out his earlier words have a rather interesting effect. There are only two major skating clubs in this city locked in fierce competition with one another, and Medea is an asset. His youngest is one of the few skaters that both clubs are looking to keep or poach from one another. 

They desperately want her to stay at this one, especially when they’ve already lost a few of their other skaters recently to the other club. Slade knows they don’t really care for Medea. They care about what she can bring to the club with her talent. He doesn’t make any promises to stay.

Truth to be told, over these past years, he’s been growing tired of how things are run at this club. Things had been slowly going downhill and this had been the last straw. 

“Dad?” asks Medea once the car starts. 

He hummed, gesturing for her to continue. 

“Are we really going to try the other rink?”

“Well, what do you think of your current coach?” The face she made from his rearview mirror told him enough. “Besides that coach of yours on Fridays– Linda – what was her last name again?”

“Kim.” 

“Ms. Kim had suggested a different coach recently. I think we could give it a trial run, meet the potential coach and decide from there. What do you think?” In the end, any decision that he makes hinges on Medea’s answer.

There’s a short pause before she agrees. “Okay. I don’t think…I don’t think I’d mind giving it a try.”

“Sounds like a plan then.” 

On their way to the art gallery where Joey’s art is being displayed amongst others for an art contest, he makes a detour. They stop for takeout and he watches his youngest like a hawk as she eats. 

He doesn’t force her to finish everything but makes sure they have a conversation about eating. Because although it didn’t seem to be a concern right now, Slade wants to make sure that she doesn’t think what they had said had any merit. Honestly, with the lifestyle, she leads – figure skating and the training she does with both him and Shiva – Medea is probably more or less in peak condition for someone her age. 

This weekend Mom is in town, but it’s also the weekend that Joey’s artwork was being displayed. Frankly, Medea didn’t want to pick between either – it’d been a little over two months since she last saw her mother in person and it wasn’t often that Joey’s artwork was displayed. So she compromised. Hesitantly, she asked if Shiva could pick her up a little later because she wanted to congratulate Joey first before heading out. To her relief, Shiva had easily agreed. 

Another reason was due to her siblings. There’s Grant who was growing bored with New York City. He was considering travelling again, and Joey’s event might be the last time she sees Grant in person for a bit. He would be in Russia for the next month or so. Then there’s Rose. This weekend is one of the ones that she’s staying with Dad. By the time Medea returns from her weekend with Shiva, Rose will be back with her own mother.

Medea has a mental list of things to check off while she’s there. It’s fairly short and mostly comes down to: Find Grant. Congratulate Joey. Find Rose. Very simple, right?

It was in fact, not-so-simple. Medea had no idea where the rest of her siblings are and she can’t ask Dad to help because he was somewhere hidden in the crowd.

‘Medi, Medi, please.’

She snapped to attention, having heard her brother’s voice in her head. Joey?

‘By the statue.’

Medea turned to see him standing there, surrounded by a group of people. He stared her down and she wasn’t too sure what he wanted. And? What did he want her to do? Contrary to her sibling’s popular theories, she could not read minds.

‘Don’t just stand there, help me get rid of them. Please?’ After a second, his voice added, ‘I’m calling in that favour.’

Well, he did say please. Medea supposed she could help. Okay. Any suggestions? 

‘I don’t know, cry? Anything is fine.’

She didn’t have many ideas as she walked over, so by virtue of default, she took his first suggestion. Breaking into a slow jog, she started speeding up as she got closer before running straight for Joey, wrapping her arms around him as she burst into tears. “Joey! I can’t find anyone! Dad’s gone–” She lays it on thick. Even leaving his hug briefly so the other members can see the tear tracks on her cheeks.

The other members of the group look uncomfortable at her outburst and none dare to stop Joey when he sheepishly excuses himself from the group.

“Wow,” signs Joey as they turn a corner. “You’ve improved.” He hands her a tissue from a pocket.

“Thanks, but what was that all about?” As they walked further from the group, Medea began to wipe at her cheeks. 

Her brother made a face at the question. “These…they’re all so annoying,” he signs, “You won’t believe what they said.” Sometimes when Joey goes on tangents, he doesn’t realize that he signs faster the longer it goes on. It’s what he’s doing right now and she can barely keep up. “I swear, if another person tells them what an inspiration I am to be such a talented artist because of my muteness, I will make them socially embarrass themselves in front of everyone here.” 

“Like a trip into a punch bowl?” 

“Oh, much worse than that, Medi.” He ruffled her hair and the malicious smile that appeared made Medea want to stick around to see his victim’s demise. “Now have you seen my mother by any chance? I wanted to get a photo with her.”

A heavy sigh interrupts them. “Joey, what have you roped your sister into? Why does she look like she’s been crying?” They looked up to see an exasperated Slade. Though Medea swore she could see his amusement. 

Joey and Medea exchanged a glance. 

“I don’t want to know, do I?”

“No?” tries Medea, unsure what the correct answer is. 

Dad raised an eyebrow at that. 

Luckily for her, a guest of some sort calls for Joey’s name. “Joseph, my boy…”

A different group of people are approaching their way and soon, the three of them are politely making small talk. Things were going fairly well until someone made the offending line. 

At the line, Joey sent Medea a knowing glance and in her head, she hears his voice say, ‘I’m going to ruin their life so badly they’re going to wish they never walked over here.’

She barely manages to muffle the giggle. 

Dad shot them a look and Medea knew it was time to make her escape before Joey’s thoughts made her burst out laughing. His scenarios were getting funnier by the second. 

‘You’re leaving me? Medi–’ Eyes wide, Joey sent her a pleading look. One that she pretended to not notice. 

If I find your mom, I’ll send her your way! Before her brother could form an answer, she slipped away from the group. 

Considering there’s no sudden gasp near that group, it’s safe to assume that Dad guessed what they were up to and had ensured that Joey entertained no thoughts of possessing anyone. 

According to Grant, Joey did it a lot at their mother’s events. This meant Joey would get excused from the event earlier because he wasn’t feeling well , while Grant would have to stay as someone needed to represent the two of them. For her eldest brother, this was a death sentence.

Looking around the gallery, Medea found that her siblings were practically invisible. One would have thought having a sister that had white hair would make things a lot easier. Or one that was as tall as Dad. 

There weren’t many people that she wanted to talk to either. Last time, she’d met a boy near her age. But he’d been so condescending – because she couldn’t possibly know anything –she didn’t need to prove her knowledge of art to enjoy it. Frowning at the memory, she almost misses the familiar head of hair. Rose!

Though she couldn’t help but wonder who the other person was, that was making her sister so tense. Wait–oh. 

Medea blinked to make sure she was seeing things right. Adeline looked just as tense as Rose, but there was something else too. Almost like how Adeline acted when in front of her. Rose looked moments away from blowing up and Medea took it as a cue to head that way. 

She hurriedly makes her way over, uncaring of who she bumped into. “Rose, there you are! I’ve been looking for you everywhere!” she says, slipping her arm into her sister’s. 

Startling at the interruption, Rose turned to her before her jaw dropped. “Have you been crying?” 

Medea shook her head. “No. I–” Abruptly, she cut off when her gaze met Adeline’s. “–Oh! Ms. Adeline, I didn’t see you here. I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“Did you need something?” 

Medea pointedly ignored the silent request to leave the two alone. “Yes, I was looking for Rose. But umm…Joey asked if I could send you his way if I saw you. He mentioned something about a photo.”

If Adeline saw through her act, then she gave no indication of it. “A photo?”

“He’s waiting over there,” she supplies, pointing in the direction that her brother was. 

“Well…I suppose I shouldn’t linger.” A curt nod is sent their way. “It was nice meeting you, Rose .” There was a sneer in the way, she said her sister’s name. “ Medea .” And with that, she left before either girl could get another word in. 

The moment Adeline was out of earshot, Rose stared her down. “Okay, fess up. Who made you cry?” She cracked her knuckles. “Who do I need to talk to?”

Medea blinked, not having expected the conversation to turn to her. “Nobody? I was helping Joey with something earlier. They’re fake tears.” She wiped at her cheeks, wondering how she had missed some. 

“And he says that I’m corrupting you?” she says incredulously. “Clearly, he’s lying if he’s got you crying on command.”

She shrugs. “I mean I’d do it for you too if you asked.”

“Thanks? Still–” Rose shook her head, trying to focus on the next matter at hand. “Is she always like that? Looking down on us. I saw how she looked at you.”

She made a so-so gesture. “It depends on the day.” 

“Don’t tell me that was a good day.”

“I don’t interact with her often enough to say.” At her sister’s confusion, she explains, “Now that Grant and Joey can drive, it’s really rare. But even when they were younger, it was only the odd occasion that we crossed paths. Think about it this way, I don’t think any of our mothers interact with each other.” 

“Okay, fair. But–” Rose’s expression twisted at the reminder. “–I think you should have let me tell her off. She’s always been this rude to you?”

“More or less, it’s usually more of an ‘I will tolerate your presence briefly because of Joey.’ I’m kind of used to it.”

Rose made a sound of disgruntlement. “Still, I don’t like it.”

She shrugged. 

Together with Rose, they sneak out into the parking lot– ok, well, Medea told Dad before they left because she didn’t want him to worry despite her sister’s teasing of being Daddy’s little girl.

It’s here that she finds her last wayward sibling. Grant had dipped out of the event earlier and was now out in the parking lot smoking. Except he scrambles to put it out the moment he hears her cheerful chirp of his name. 

It’s too late though, they had already seen the smoke. 

“What a rebel,” says Rose dryly. 

“You didn’t see a thing.”

“I’m not a snitch. Of course, what’s in it for me?”

Grant shook his head and pointed at Medea. “Tell me what you saw.”

“Nothing?” She wrinkled her nose at the smell of the lingering smoke. 

“Good. And you’re not allowed to smoke. Ever. Not if you want your favourite brother to survive the night.”

 Rose blinked. “What?”

“I will not be accused of corrupting Medi again.”

“Again?” echoed Medea. “What did you do the first time?”

He shook his head. “Another conversation that we won’t ever be having.”

Grant is so dramatic sometimes, Medea doubted it was that bad. Though she did wonder if it had anything to do with French. He had a similar reaction back then when Mom brought it up. 

She’ll have to remember to ask Dad later. 

Quickly, the topic changed to other things and soon the three siblings were engrossed in a semi-heated debate on who should go for a snack run because it was rather obvious that this event was going to go on much longer than any of them would like. 

They settle on a coin toss and as the trusted neutral party, Medea is allowed to toss it. The winner gets to go on a snack run and the loser has to come up with a plausible excuse if they get discovered for sneaking off.

Grant wins – and crows that it must be his lucky day to win against someone with precognition. 

“That’s not how it works,” protests Rose, clearly disgruntled at her loss. 

“Sure, whatever you say, Rosie.”

Medea waves goodbye as Grant and her head out on his bike.

Her siblings agreed it was safer for Medea to stick with whoever was going on the snack run – safer how, she had no idea. They said something about appealing to Dad easier. 

“Did you get Joey’s snacks?”

Medea nodded and dropped them in Grant’s basket. As they passed by the drink aisle, she paused when she spotted a certain drink. After a moment of hesitation, she grabbed it from the fridge. 

“No, Medi. I’m not getting you coffee. You know how Pops gets about giving coffee to kids.” He rolled his eyes at the thought. “I’m just saving you from the lecture. You’ll thank me later.”

She shook her head. “It’s not for me. For Dad.”

Grant stared at her. “You’re bribing Pops with coffee?” He glanced at the price. “Well, it’s only three dollars a can, sure.”

And so the can of bulletproof coffee is rung up along with the rest of the other snacks. 

By the time her brother’s bike pulled into the parking lot, they found a disgruntled Rose. Rose, who looked like she’d rather be anywhere else than standing next to the boy who was chattering beside her. In fact, she sent a pleading glance when she saw the bike come to a stop.

Which was fair, Medea and Grant had exchanged a look at his boring personality and silently thanked their lucky stars that they hadn’t had to converse with him earlier. 

“What do you think, Medi?” asks Grant as she hands him her helmet. “What’s our game plan?”

She grinned and gestured for him to come closer as she whispered her plan to him. At his nod of approval, she approached Rose and the boring boy whose personality reassembled the bland clothing that he wore. 

Slowly, Grant walked over as his youngest sister bounded over to Rose, casually inserting herself into the conversation. 

“Wow, that’s a cool car!” she exclaims, eyes gleaming with mischief.

The boy preens, obviously glad to have a somewhat captive audience. He looks prepared to launch into a spiel about how great his car is when Medea deals the killing blow.

With the innocence that only a child could muster, Medea says, “I can’t believe the new Honda Civic looks that amazing!”

Rose’s eyes widened and Grant fought hard to not laugh out loud. The boy looked ready to faint at Medea’s deliberate mislabeling of the car brand. 

But who said they were finished? Putting on his most disappointed face as he joined the group, Grant musters a serious expression as he chastises Medea. “I taught you better than that. That’s not a Honda Civic.”

She looked at him quizzically. “Then what is it?”

“Medi, Medi,” he tsked. He makes eye contact with the boy as he confidently says, “The ‘T’ is obviously for Toyota.”

This time, Rose was the one who barely managed to swallow her laughter. “Yes, Grant’s right,” she says in mock seriousness. “Clearly it’s a Toyota, Medi.”

The boy looked seconds away from crying at the mislabel of his Tesla. He sputters at the indignance of everything, but before he can begin to continue, he’s interrupted once more. 

“Children, what are you doing?” There’s a hint of disapproval and at the voice, the children readied themselves for a possible lecture. 

Medea slowly reached for the can of coffee in the plastic bag. 

“Where have the three of you been?” Slade paused and gave a cursory glance to the boy. “And you are?”

“Leaving,” squeaked the boy. “Sir.”

Medea couldn’t help the giggle. “Is that a normal sound?” she asks Rose. 

Her sister’s lip curled up in a smirk. “For him, yes.”

The four Wilsons watched in equal parts curiosity and amusement as he jumped into his electric car and sped away. 

“Well?” prompts Slade after a moment. His confusion was clear to Medea as she handed him a can of coffee. “Baby?”

“I got you–”

“It was my money–” Grant’s voice is cut off with a stomp to his feet by Rose. “–I mean, carry on.”

“–coffee,” finishes Medea. 

“I see that, yes,” says Slade. “Thank you?”

“You’re welcome.” Dad blinked, still baffled at the turn of events, so Medea hoped she could convince him to temporarily forget the topic. “Were you looking for us?” she prompts.

“Well, yes. You do remember your mother is picking you up today, right? She’s by–”

“–right here,” says a wry voice. “Where have you been, Medea? You had us worried.”

“But–” She glanced down at her watch and flushed with the realization that she had promised to meet Shiva earlier. “Oh. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to lose track of time.” At her mother’s look, Medea tries, “I won’t do it again?”

Her parents exchanged a glance that nobody could interpret. “Next time, tell me if you plan to leave the venue,” says Slade. “Or keep your phone on.” He fixed all three of them with a look. “That goes for all of you. Understood?”

They voice an agreement.

As Shiva and Medea left, Grant shifted awkwardly in his spot when his father fixed them with a stare. 

“Grant…” says Slade carefully. 

“Yes?” He tries for the most nonchalant tone possible, but it’s clear to him that his father doesn’t believe it for a single moment.

“Why do you smell of cigarettes?”

Oh boy.   

“Grant Slade Wilson, have you been smoking? Around your siblings?”

He chuckled nervously. The only thought that came to mind was – shit.

“And around Medea?”

Shiva’s silence conveys her disappointment a lot better than any words. 

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to, promise.”

Her mother sighed. “I know.” 

“And I won’t do it again.” Medea didn’t like how tense Shiva looked, or how there had been an underlying trace of fear in Slade when he had first found them. It was almost like they had been fearing for the worst. 

She wondered if it had anything to do with their aliases. Because it was a rare sight to have them both so on edge. Or what if it was even worse – what if it involved Cain?

There was a light cough and Medea looked up to see Shiva’s reflection in the mirror with a slight frown on her lips. “Mom?”

She drummed her fingers on the steering wheel, waiting for the light to turn green. “It is not for you to worry. But I hope that there won’t be a next time. I’m sure your father has mentioned how you…you and your siblings are rather high-profile before . ”

Sort of. Except Medea caught that hesitation, so what did that mean? Was it just her? Was Cass in danger too? When the light finally changed and she still couldn’t think of what else to say, she repeats, “I’m sorry.” 

Shiva shook her head lightly. “You are a child, Medea. Any burdens that your father and I have are ours to carry, not yours.” And with that, she knew that her mother wouldn’t say anything else on the matter. At least not right now. 

So Medea doesn’t protest when the topic is switched to other things – like how the event had gone or of her skating. 

The weekend spent with Mom is nothing too different from her usual ones. They spend it in Metropolis and within a few hours of their stay, it is too sunny for Medea’s tastes. The people here are nice too, unnervingly so, it almost seems like they don’t have a mean bone in their body. 

Shiva laughs at her declaration. 

They explore the city and her mother brings her out to places that she had mentioned offhandedly wanting to visit. She leaves Metropolis with a lot more books than Dad would probably approve of.  

And she’s right, when Medea returns on Sunday afternoon, Dad sends Mom an exasperated look. 

“As her mother, should I not encourage her literary pursuits?”

 “You bought her a small library’s worth of books.”

Shiva smiles. “You’re exaggerating. It’s only ten.”

Knowing that it’s a lost cause with Shiva, Slade turned to Medea. “Baby, no more books for this month. You’ve hit your quota.”

Considering Medea wasn’t even halfway through her stack, she thought it wasn’t really a punishment. Besides, she noticed that he hadn’t banned her from getting more books the following month. Heh. 

With the weekend over, Monday after school, he drives her to the rink. While she’d been in Metropolis, Slade had taken the time to reach out and arrange a trial lesson with a different coach from that other skating club. 

The coach’s name is Jules and the woman has a no-nonsense sort of attitude. Strict, but not to the point where it would discourage Medea. He watches them interact and noted that Medea seemed more at ease with this coach than with her current one. Well, that was certainly another plus in his book. 

And when they exit the rink, he glances at Medea who nods faintly at him her approval. Agreement secured, he and Jules – who seems amicable to taking Medea on as another student – begin hammering out details. 

Most are fairly straightforward and will be probably finalized through later emails, but one thing that interests both him and Medea is the mention of regionals. It’s doable for her age, explains the coach. 

Slade could see Medea’s eyes practically light up at Jules’ words and let a chuckle slip. “I think Medea has already made her decision for me.”

“Excellent!” The woman smiled. 

As they left the rink, Slade thought back to the switch to the other skating club. From what research he’d done, it seemed better than her current one. Though he did note that it was pricier, still the price hike was well worth it. 

Jokingly he thought to himself – maybe it was a good thing he was Deathstroke, otherwise, he’d have been more concerned about the rising costs. Figure skating was an expensive sport. Also, as a single father to four children of various ages, money was quite literally going in all directions. Especially when some of them had expensive pastimes. Don’t get him started on that Steinway piano…

“That’s not the best part, you’re not going to believe it, but I got hit by a handball today.” From the rearview mirror, Medea could see how her dad raised an eyebrow at her excitement. “During gym.”

“I don’t think most people count that as an achievement.”

“It was fun. I didn’t expect it and bam! It appeared!” Team sports aren’t that fun, sometimes they get boring when she can infer so much from her opponent's body language. They’re only fun when she’s up against someone like her siblings or her parents.

“Are you trying to turn your ability off?” he asks carefully. Medea peered at him and found him quite hard to read, so she wasn’t sure how to respond either. Unfortunately, the silence didn’t do her any favours. 

“Princess?” Dad sounded a little worried. At her silence, he pulled over to the side and parked, allowing him to turn in his seat to look at her. 

She stared, still unsure what the right answer was. 

“I would prefer if our conversation wasn’t non-verbal. I don’t want the answer you think would make me happy, I want the real one.”

“Mind reader,” she accuses half-heartedly. At his look, she begrudgingly answers the question. “No.” But Dad didn’t say anymore either. After a moment, she quietly admits, “But it was nice to be normal in that second. Is it weird that I liked it?”

“Oh, Medea…” he says softly. 

“I guess you were kind of right too, I haven’t tried to turn it off, but…”

Sometimes I wish I could, he finishes for her silently. 

And when Medea slowly spills out more words, he finds that his original guess had been fairly accurate. “I just want to look away sometimes. Because what’s the point of this ability? People can be genuine in the moment, but that’s all I can see. The present, not the future. It might be worse than when they lie to my face. At least I know it’s a lie.”

Without much prompt, she brings up the real root of what’s been eating at her. Of her other sister’s reappearance and subsequent apology. The cues that she read, and how Medea didn’t know what to choose. “She wants us to be sisters again, but what if…what if she has a good reason…” she trailed off.

Next time?, finished Slade in his mind. He wished he could say he understood or could relate to it. But the truth wasn’t anything but. “Well, do you want to make good with her?”

“A little,” admits Medea after a moment. “But what if it’s already too late? Is that possible?”

“Depends. Sometimes, you just have to go for it. At least you know that you’ve already done what you can.”

“Mom said the same thing.” At the mention of Shiva though, hesitation appeared on her face. “Dad…what if things don’t work out this time with Cass? Will Mom be–” Her voice lowered to a whisper “–mad?”

“No, I don’t think she would.” It must not make for a very convincing response considering Medea’s dubious look. “It’s like what I told you before you met Rose. I don’t think Shiva would begrudge you for choosing the option that made you happier.” 

“Okay.”

As Dad started the car up again, Medea looked at the message typed out on her phone. The cursor blinked, and this time it felt encouraging rather than mocking. You can do it, you can send a message! It doesn’t even have to be that many words. 

So this time, she hit send before she could decide otherwise. The moment it sent, she closed her phone and looked out the window, watching the city's surroundings go by. “Hey, Dad, can we go for ice cream?” 

He hummed in acknowledgement. “Isn’t it too cold for ice cream?”

“It’s never too cold for ice cream and we haven’t gone in ages .” Though her dad didn’t respond, Medea knew his answer as the car took a left turn rather than going straight. “My treat?”

“Oh?” He seemed amused by the offer. “How can I refuse such a generous offer? It’s not every day that my daughter treats me to ice cream.”

Chapter Text

It turns out that maybe things aren’t that late after all. Cass has agreed to take things slow, they mostly keep in contact through texts – Medea learns that her sister is very fond of emojis. She’s in the midst of deciphering the mess of emojis that Cass had sent along with a photo of her attempt at baking. 

She’s not quite sure if the emojis were an accident, they sort of look more like an accidental keyboard smash. So she decides on responding with a thumbs up is probably a safe answer. Medea gives her sister points for presentation, but she’s not sure if the brownies are supposed to look like that.

“Baby, put your phone away when we’re eating,” chides Slade. 

She glanced up to see a bamboo steamer container with shrimp dumplings being set on their table. “Okay.” The phone was turned off and slipped into a pocket. 

Truth be told, this was nice. Lunch with both her parents. There had been a bet of sorts about and Medea wasn’t really sure how it came to be – maybe it was when Mom caught sight of the Chinese takeout containers in the trash when she came to drop her off. At the sight of the containers, Shiva wrinkled her nose and muttered something about greasy Americanized Chinese food.  

As the meal went on, the chatter of the other customers faded into the background as her parents discussed one thing or another at the table. They ask her about skating, school and talk about both upcoming and past trips. 

Push carts full of dim sum moved around the restaurant, stopping when a table waved them down to place down a dish or two. Occasionally, she’ll see one with a flat grill move about. 

During a slight lull in the conversation, Dad places a rice roll in her bowl without prompt. And when the conversation picks up again, Medea sees that the last piece of fried squid is still sitting there, unclaimed. Her hand inches toward the chopsticks, ones for the whole table to use when she sees Shiva already reaching for the pair. 

Instantly, her hand retracted. It wasn’t like she wanted that last piece that badly anyways. 

As her mother’s chopsticks were poised to pick up the last piece of fried squid, they suddenly stopped when another pair of chopsticks appeared to do the same. Medea glanced between her parents to see them staring awkwardly at the situation they had found themselves in. 

 “You can have it,” offers Slade, his chopsticks already withdrawing. 

“Ah, it’s alright. Take it.” Shiva makes a hand gesture for him to take it. The chopsticks she’d picked up were already returned to their place. “I didn’t want it.”

What?

Her father seemed to think the same as her. “But you reached for it?”

“To give to Medea,” says Shiva slowly. The statement is said like it should be obvious. 

Which maybe it should, because Medea just realizes that throughout the whole meal, both her parents have done this, placing various pieces of dim sum in her bowl – even when the dish is in front of her and not across the table. Huh. 

Dad simply blinked and nodded. 

Oh, had he thought the same too?

Her parents must draw the same conclusion because, in the end, they settle for pushing the dish toward Medea. 

“Eat it before it gets cold,” hums Slade as he turns to stop a worker pushing one of the many carts that were circling the restaurant. “May we have a plate of those egg tarts?” he asks smoothly in Cantonese.

“Certainly.” If the waitress was surprised by his fluency, she didn't comment on it. Rather, she made a mark on their paper and left the plate of egg tarts on their table before heading on to another table.

There are exactly three egg tarts, one for each of them. Well, two now as one had ended up on Dad’s plate. 

“Really?” Shiva arched an eyebrow when the tarts were pushed slightly toward her. 

“What?”

“Everyone knows they are better straight from the bakeries.”

He shrugged nonchalantly. “Maybe, but Medea has been eyeing them off the cart the whole meal, I couldn’t begrudge her of them, could I?” On cue, Medea reached out for one. 

She sighs theatrically. “Little witch, your father has spoiled you with his terrible taste.” Still, she doesn’t not take one from the plate. “We must remedy that soon.”

In between Shiva’s visits and the occasional times that her parents are both there, Medea’s life continues as usual. Of school and skating. Her new coach, Jules, is much more accommodating with allowing her to compete. Depending on the week, she had three to four lessons now. Recently, it had mostly been four times a week as Jules wanted to prepare her for regionals.

The idea of regionals was a little nerve-wracking, but she couldn’t deny her excitement either. Grant, who’s still in Europe promised to be back to watch it!  

Her costume is already in the making – a long lacy sleeve red dress with the flowiest skirt she’s had to date. They had to order a new one for her when Medea found that she had outgrown her older ones. Wryly, Dad remarks that she’s been growing like a weed recently. 

Finally! She was finally catching up to the rest of them! Briefly, Medea wondered if that meant she’d stop being prime height for abductions. But knowing her siblings, probably not. 

Speaking of her siblings, Joey had recently retired from being Jericho to Dad's quiet relief. He says that his heart isn’t in it like the rest of his teammates. While Dad was glad to hear of it, it didn’t last too long. Because no sooner after Joey expresses his desire to retire does Rose start expressing an interest in wearing a mask, she pesters Dad about it any time she’s over. Dad makes a face at the request but trains her. His training is brutal, and Rose always complains that her joints ache after each and every session. 

Privately, Medea thinks he’s either trying to scare Rose off from the idea, or trying to stall for time. At the very least until Rose turns eighteen. After all, Uncle Billy had pointed out the unfortunate trend their brothers had started. Medea doesn’t think she’s ever seen Dad turn so pale until then. 

With Grant, her eldest brother is still in Europe. Travelling to and fro – he does remember to check in or at least tell them in advance when he’ll be off the grid for a while because both her brothers know what happens otherwise. 

Deathstroke pays a visit to the unfortunate sibling. 

Now that it’s mostly her and Dad at home, it means one of two things when he has to go work. One, Medea is dropped off for the weekend with either her mother or Uncle Billy. The other is that he takes her along. Well, not to the job exactly, but the same city usually. 

This was how she found herself spending Saturday morning in Nebraska. “What am I supposed to do?” she exclaims dramatically while perched on the hotel bed. “I’ve finished all my books already.”

He chuckled. “You’ve never been to Blue Valley before, go see the sights. Explore.”

“Buy more books?” she asks cheekily. 

“Please don’t.” Packing the rest of his gear in an inconspicuous bag, Slade does one final check before he zips up his bag. “You’ve hit your quota for the month.”

She pouted to his laughter. 

“I’ll be back by dinner time, will you keep out of trouble for me?”

“Of course I will!” Medea sat up, pretending to be offended at the question. “I can’t believe you’d even ask that.”

“I have to,” he says with a grin. “You have met your siblings, right?”

“I won’t tell them you said that if you let me buy a book.”

Slade waggled a finger at her. “Resorting to extortion, are we?” He ruffled her hair as he sat down next to her. “Brat. But it won’t work because I already tell them that to their faces. Troublemakers, the lot of you.”

Dad drops her off by a park and she reassures him for the tenth time since this morning that she knows where to meet him and how to reach him should she need to. 

He presses a kiss to her forehead before he disappears into the crowd. 

Wally is pretty sure he’s haunted. All evidence points to it. Because how? How does she always manage to appear in his vicinity?

The one time he goes back to his hometown and who does he see? The little ghost girl. At this rate, he may or may not need to find a specialist in the supernatural. 

He hadn’t seen her for a while now and he had thought that was the last of it. Clearly not. 

What does protocol demand? Wally finds that he’s hesitant to look for an exorcist because the ghost girl has never made trouble for him. She’s polite, waving to him often from rooftops. Never interfered with him operating as Kid Flash. So does he really need to find an exorcist? 

As if sensing his stare, the girl turns and Wally barely manages to move in time, zipping out of sight. When she looked away, he snuck another glance at her and watched as she paid admission for a ticket. 

Huh. But ghosts didn’t need to pay. So maybe he wasn’t haunted? So who was she?

Someone is watching her – Medea swears it – but every time she looks around, there is nobody that she can discern. It’s gotten so unnerving that she’s moments away from calling Dad to pick her up. 

Up ahead was a museum and Medea hurried towards it. Perhaps she could lose her tail in a public area, then call Dad immediately. 

Her stalker follows her into the museum, one she noted with surprise was one about their local superhero. Huh, she hadn’t known they had one here. Wasn’t Kid Flash supposed to be in New York or Central City? Still, now wasn’t the time to ponder on such. 

The eyes watching her follow her every move and Medea’s hand curl around the taser in her pocket. It’s a little more powerful than the usual ones on the market and she won’t hesitate to use it. Though that does make her consider maybe she should find somewhere a little less crowded, so nobody thinks to question her about that. As she turns a corner, the taser is already half out and when a blur of colour appears in front of her, she doesn’t stop to think why the colours are so recognizable. Startled, she moves on pure instinct and tases them. 

Except the figure that hits the ground is all too recognizable. Kid Flash. 

Oh my god. Would she be arrested for tasering a superhero? Dad was going to laugh at her later for causing trouble. Well, maybe he’d break her out of prison first. Right??

A groan escapes the superhero and Medea couldn’t help but wonder if she should run. A second later, she decided against it. He’d probably catch her before she got very far.

“Please don’t zap me again,” he blurted out to Medea’s mortification as he sat up. “ I promise I won’t think about getting you exorcised.”

“What?” 

He stared at her like she was an alien. “Oh my god, you’re not a ghost.”

She didn’t want to think too much about his strange words. Rather, Medea ran, temporarily ignoring the fact that he was a speedster. Kid Flash must still be too out of it because nobody chases after her or throws her in prison. 

Hours later, Dad simply raised an eyebrow when he found her back in their hotel room. 

“If I hypothetically committed a crime, would you break me out of prison?”

His eyebrow goes even higher. Almost disappearing underneath his hair. “Hypothetically?” At her urgent nod, he says slowly, “Yes. But may I ask what the hypothetical crime is? You do know that forgetting to return your library books isn’t a crime, right? That was something your brothers made up when you were younger.” 

Medea has never been able to hide a secret very well from her father. With some probing, she admits what had happened earlier while she had been out. At the situation, Dad roars with laughter. 

“Oh, Baby. A speedster on your first try?” He's oddly proud and she can’t help but wonder if he took a blow to his head during his job. “I don’t think he’ll come after you. The poor boy is probably too embarrassed.”

Later, Medea thinks her family is a little strange with how they learn of her actions. Grant and Joey share an oddly smug look when she’s on a video call with them. Rose giggles while Uncle Billy exclaims exasperatedly to Dad, “Look what you’ve done, you’ve corrupted the children.” 

She wonders what Shiva and Cass would say if she told them. 

The first time she decides to start meeting Cass in person again, they choose New York because it’s fairly neutral for both of them. Well, Cass had wanted to meet in Gotham originally, but considering Dad had just come back from Gotham covered in scrapes, Medea thinks the answer will probably be a no. Besides, Gotham seemed a little gloomy for her tastes, and that was putting it nicely. 

Things between her sister are slowly improving. They are in regular touch through text messages and they have the occasional meet-ups in neutral places like New York or Metropolis. Though despite her best attempts to smooth things over, she doesn’t think things will improve between either of her sisters. First impressions seemed to matter a lot to both Rose and Cass. 

It’s how Medea finds herself desperately wishing that her Dad hadn’t decided to go talk to Mom over there. Not when Rose and Cass had both thought to surprise her in New York by picking her up from skating. 

Neither wants Medea to go with the other. And honestly? Medea isn’t sure who’d she choose either. 

She hasn’t seen Rose in person in weeks, not after Rose had been grounded for being caught street racing. But she also hasn’t seen Cass for a while if not longer, especially since Gotham seems to take up so much of her time. 

Dad, come pick me up, please. 

And maybe Dad really can read minds because her parents chose that moment to finally come by. “Children, play nice.”  

“Excellent parenting.” Mom rolled her eyes.

“Well, they’ve all survived so far, so I must be doing something right.”

She made a sound of acknowledgement and Medea can just about pinpoint the moment her eyes land on Cass because her sister’s body tenses. “Cassandra. It’s been a while.”

Her sister stood ramrod straight. Medea wonders if it’s on the tip of her tongue to greet her as Shiva, but rather Cass opts for a quiet nod. 

“You must be here for Medea.” Her mother’s body language is unreadable. All her tells closed off. “Well, I’ll leave you to it then, I have matters to attend to.” Briefly, her gaze meets Medea and nods imperceptibly in goodbye. 

Dad is quick to follow, citing that he’d leave her to her sisters, though he does stare both her sisters down. Even without the Deathstroke armour, Dad can cut an imposing figure. “I trust that you’ll behave yourselves.”

They nod.   

“Good.” His gaze flickered to Rose. “Rose, I’ll meet you here in two hours.” 

“What?”

“You do realize your mother and I still talk, right?” He gave her a knowing look. 

With the way her sister’s cheeks flushed, Medea wondered if that meant Rose was still grounded and that she’d snuck out. 

Before she could think too much into it, Slade turned his attention to her. “Medea, if you end up wanting to stay out a little longer, let me know before then, okay?”

She nods. “Okay.” 

Chapter Text

An outing with both her sisters is a disaster in the making, thinks Medea. Neither of them will acknowledge the other’s presence unless they have to. It is so awkward that she wonders if she could bribe either of her brothers to abduct her. It’s a shame that Grant is in Europe and Joey is busy with schoolwork. 

So here she is. The atmosphere here is unbearable and her sisters must agree because for once in her life, they agree on something. Cass says that she’ll find Medea in two hours. Meaning after Rose is gone. 

It’s progress, right? She’ll give them props for creative problem-solving, but it's exhausting to be good conversation after skating practice. As Medea approached the third-hour mark, she found it near impossible to stay awake. A fact that Cass quickly notices, telling her to leave early, even if Medea protests. 

Next time, Medea thinks she’ll speak up. Maybe an hour each if they insisted. But for now, she thinks the safest option is to never have her sisters cross paths with each other in the future. Or at least get them to give her a heads up instead of having both surprise her after skating. 

She’s out like a light the moment she slips into the car. Whatever it was that her dad had asked, Medea had missed it. By the time she comes to, they’re at home and she’s on the living room sofa with a blanket on top of her. “We’re home?” She rubbed her eyes as she sat up. 

“We’ve been home for a bit,” says Slade from the kitchen. “Do you think you’re up for dinner?”

“Should I set the table?” 

“Please.”

Although Medea has a plan, life rarely works out so nicely. How is it that they are only free on the same days? Also, she had already made plans with some friends. So what was she supposed to do now?

“You’re allowed to tell your sisters no,” says Slade as she stares at the phone lost in deep thought. “You know that, right?”

“Huh?” She glanced up at him. 

“You’re allowed to turn down your sisters’ offer to hang out,” he states as he takes a seat beside her on the sofa. He picked up the TV remote, turning the TV on. 

“I am? Wait–” She narrowed her eyes at Slade, who ignored her as he flipped between channels. “Dad, how’d you know? Are you sure you’re not a mind reader?”

He gave her a pointed look. “We’ve had this discussion before, baby.” Slade sighed. “What will it take to prove it?”

Medea gave him a smug smile. “You won’t.”

“Brat.” He ruffled her hair before she could think to move. “What happened to the well-behaved little girl you used to be?”

“Dad!”

He chuckled.

Still, she takes her dad’s advice. Thankfully, both Rose and Cass take her answer well. 

Faintly, Medea thinks it's easier with her brothers because at least they won’t make her choose between them. Well… sort of. After all these years, they occasionally demand who the favourite brother is in her eyes. Something she has no plans of ever declaring – heh. 

They’ve hit a milestone in her family. Grant and Rose are getting along a lot better now than when they first met. Loads better. Why else would he offer the alias, Ravager, to her?

During a three-way video call between the four of them, Joey and Medea exchange a look of glee as Grant jokes with Rose about not ruining the reputation that he’s cultivated as Ravager. “You’re less of a goody two shoes like Joey, but I’m obligated to tell you not to ruin my street cred.” 

Rose snorted. “What street cred? You have as much as Joey, which isn’t very much.”

Joey grinned before a frown quickly replaced it. “Hey!” he signed, an indignant look on his face. “What is that supposed to mean?”

Medea giggled to Joey’s chagrin. “That is tr–” Mid-sentence, she found herself under attack. “J–Joey!” Her brother was merciless as he tickled her. “Fine, fine! I was wrong!” The moment the words are out, he releases her. 

“Good,” he signs. A smug look on his face. 

“You fold too easily, Medi,” says Rose over the video call. Her sister looked much too amused at the situation, as did Grant. 

Silently, Medea vowed to never cover for those two again. “You would too if you were coerced!” Carefully, she shot Joey a glance. For good measure, she scooched a little further away from him on the couch. 

“Maybe, but I’m not the one who gave in,” teases Grant. 

“I wouldn’t. I’m not ticklish,” declares their sister. Quietly, the other three exchanged a look and a truce was formed. One that made Rose narrow her eyes in suspicion. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“Everyone’s ticklish, Rosie. The question is just where.”

The four chat for a little longer, even going so far as to help Grant come up with potential aliases to go by. Joey suggests ‘Renegade’ while Rose thinks ‘Atlas’ sounds better. Her siblings encourage her to throw a name of her own into the ring. And after some thought, Medea suggests, ‘Helios’. 

Eventually, it was getting rather late where Grant was and he had mentioned having to catch an early flight the next morning. And before he signs off their call, Grant promises that he’ll be back in the states before Medea leaves for the summer with Shiva. 

As Joey closes down his laptop, he turns to Medea with a smile. “Alright, we have an hour to spare before we have to meet Pops for lunch. What are we thinking?” he signs. “Should we head to that store we’ve been meaning to visit?”

Medea’s eyes lit up in anticipation. 

It was supposed to be a fun outing. And it had been, up until they’d got abducted. Someone had recognized Joey because his mother is a Kane. She’s rich and that is enough of a reason. They don’t recognize Medea, writing her off as some random kid that Joey was talking to, but she’s taken along anyways. 

‘I still maintain it’s kind of funny,’ says Joey’s voice in her head, ‘Still, this is not how I planned our outing to go.’ It’s clear he's trying to make sure she’s not shaken by the whole ordeal. ‘Like how inconsiderate can they get?’

‘They’re very inconsiderate,’ agrees Medea, grateful for the distraction, ‘We’ve got lunch plans with Dad and you know how he gets when we’re late by even a minute.’ 

‘Exactly.’

Their captors are sort of… Shiva would probably call them pathetic, and Medea just might agree. Although she didn’t have experience with any actual abductions, she thought they were kind of bad at it. Honestly, how did they think Joey was going to answer any of their questions if his hands were tied?

They also dial the wrong number. They had been trying to reach Adeline but dialled Dad’s number instead. Ignoring the fact that it was a wrong number, they continue with their demands, ordering Dad to pay twenty million dollars per child to get them back.

Dad demands they put Medea on the phone. “Medea? Tell me the two of you are alright.” 

“We’re not hurt.”

“I’ll be there in fifteen.”

Medea knows that her father always keeps his promises. Still, she can’t help the uneasy feeling that grows with each second. Because as often as her siblings have abducted her, this time it's much too different. 

Slade makes it with five minutes to spare. He had been in the ikon armour when the call came through. Words cannot describe the fear and fury that coursed through his veins as he heard their captors’ demands. 

And the slap. 

How dare they. They dared to lay a hand on his children. He is going to kill them all.

It's child play to track his children – See he’d known those rings embedded with trackers would have their use. He just wished he never had to use it like this. The relief is clear when he sees that the two look alright from his vantage point. With his rifle, he snipes the few men that are far too close to his children before dropping down amidst the chaos. 

“Your father is Deathstroke?!” exclaims one of the captors in shock. The other goons all raised their weapons, but their hesitation was clear. Nobody seemed to want to make the first move. 

Luckily for Slade, he had no qualms about acting as he took down the ones he deemed much too close to his children.

“I think that’s the least of your problem,” says Medea. As calm as his youngest looked, Slade could tell she was anything but.

With his knife, he sliced through Joey’s bonds and handed him the knife, trusting him to do the same for Medea. “You’ll shield her from the blood, won’t you?” he murmurs before he turns to the stragglers that were not dead yet. “Now which of you fine gentlemen is called Rowan? ” The sound of the slap echoes in his mind and Slade is furious to note Medea’s cheek is still a little red. 

He waits for an answer. There is none, of course. So he merely raises his blade and gestures with his free hand for them to approach. 

Nobody but his children and him will be leaving this warehouse alive.

Glancing around, Slade noted that there were only seven men left. And well, he’s faced uglier odds before. 

Three deaths later, some of the more desperate start to beg and plead to let them go. One of the women helpfully lets him know who Rowan was. Slade grants her a quick death for her honesty.

The filth in question tries to run, but Slade throws a dagger and it goes through the man’s hand, pinning him to the floor as he dealt with the remainder. 

“Your first mistake was taking my children,” he says quietly as he towers over the man. “And the second was giving me your name.” He bends down slightly. “Who sent you?”

“Nobody! Nobody!” Slade twisted the knife that was still connected to the man’s hand, causing him to howl in pain. “It’s the truth,” sobs the man. “Everything about the boy is on my phone. Inside pocket. Jacket.”

He takes it and leaves the man drowning in his own blood. Such filth did not deserve a quick and painless death. Slowly, Slade turned to approach the only other souls in the warehouse. In his fury, he had been rather messy with his kills. With blood dripping off his armour, Slade isn’t sure what kind of reaction he is hoping to elicit from Joey or Medea. 

Would it be disappointment? Or even worse, what if it was a fear of him? Knowing his reputation as Deathstroke and seeing him work are two very different things.

He takes off his helmet – Just maybe he could reassure them that he is still their father underneath the armour – and is shocked when Medea runs not away, but toward him. 

“Dad! You’re alright,” she hiccups, hugging him. “I thought…I thought that–” Her shirt was slowly turning red, not that Medea seemed to care.

“Yeah, I'm here now,” he says, dazed. “I didn’t mean to frighten you.” Slade glanced at Joey who had followed after Medea, carefully maneuvering around the aftermath. “Are you alright?” He couldn’t see any marks on his son, but he couldn’t help but worry.

Joey nods. “I’m fine,” he signs. As if reading his mind, his son offers up a weak smile. “Promise, Pops.”

“They can’t hurt you ever again,” he says. Slade’s unsure whether he’s saying it to himself or his children. “They’re all gone now.” A sniffle comes from his daughter. “I promise.”

It takes some coaxing to get Medea to let go of him. Once that has happened, it’s clear that their lunch isn’t going to happen today. Not when the dried bloodstains on her shirt made her out to be a survivor in a slasher movie. Also, he doesn’t think anyone is in the mood to go out for lunch. 

The moment that they’d gotten to a safe house, Medea had demanded to see if he was hurt in any way. “What if you’d gotten hurt?” 

Her ferociousness in defending the matter takes him aback. “Princess…” 

Joey gives her a wry smile. “Medi, he had armour on. I think he’s fine.”

“Yeah, but Uncle Billy says he does silly things all the time. Especially when he’s Deathstroke.”

He choked. Betrayed by his brother-in-arms. “Medea, please,” he says weakly. “That’s not true.” 

“Then you wouldn’t be hesitating,” she counters. “Back me up, Joey. Do you think Dad would hide his injuries from us?”

“Now that I think about it,” signs Joey. There’s a mischievous look in his eyes that makes Slade wary of his response. “I think he might have done it a few times when you were younger too.”

“I knew it!”

Children, please. 

That incident had been a close one. Much too close. Slade does his research, and he doesn’t know whether to be relieved or despair over the fact that Joey had been the primary target. 

It wasn’t because of their connection to Deathstroke – a fact that he can’t help the small sigh of relief – but because Adeline is a Kane. That itself is enough for Slade to check in on his eldest. Grant who’s in Europe and far from his reach. Thank God, he is as safe as he can be in this profession. 

Slade frets over the fact that none of his children are truly safe. His contribution to their creation does not help in any way as it will only make them an attractive target. Enemies, he had many. More as Deathstroke than Slade Wilson. Still. Would his existence forever haunt them?  

It doesn't help that another one of his children has declared their intention to wear a mask. Not Medea, no. Slade does not think his heart could withstand such a statement. But it is Rose. It isn’t the first time his elder daughter had brought it up, but this time she has a name in mind. 

With Grant’s permission already secured, she tells him that she wants to be Ravager. Her reasoning behind the name is that Ravager was originally Deathstroke’s apprentice and it is only appropriate for her to take it. 

Rose, please. 

He knows his daughter well. If he says no, she’ll simply do what Grant had done years ago as Red X. It is safer to agree, so he can keep a better eye on her wellbeing, but it doesn’t mean he wants to agree. 

Slade repeats to her the same thing he’d told her then. “When you’re eighteen and not a day sooner.”

Billy thinks his reaction is amusing and laughs at his agony as February 14th approaches. 

The closer it got to Rose’s seventeenth birthday, the more Slade despaired over his fate. Why had they all decided that wearing a mask was the way to go? There is an unfortunate trend among his older children. Seventeen is when they decide to sneak out, thinking he won’t find out that they’ve decided to become a mask. He always does. 

As he glanced at Medea who was having the time of her life at the ice rink, Slade silently prayed that she wouldn’t follow in their footsteps. Please, please don’t.

It is about two weeks after that whole ordeal that Cass reaches out with tickets to a ballet performance in Metropolis. Well, originally the proposed date would have had her travel to Gotham and with the abduction fresh in everyone’s minds, Slade’s answer would only be a resounding no. 

So Medea asks if the troupe performs in any other city. To their luck, they perform in Metropolis, and Dad easily agrees to her request. 

“Alright, I’ll pick you up when the show ends then?” asks Dad. “Are you sure you don’t want me to stick around a little bit till you meet up with your sister?”

Medea checked her watch, there were a few hours until Cass arrives. “No, it’s alright, Dad. I’ll be fine.”

“I guess. Keep an eye out though, there’s reports of ‘supermen’ in the city and I want you to be careful.”

“You make it seem like I’m going to go hunt them down,” she jokes, trying to lighten his worry. “It’s only ballet, Dad. What can happen?”

“What indeed?” he murmured as she slipped out of the car. The passenger window slides down as she closed the car door. “Oh, and Princess?” he calls out. “Je t’aime.”

Usually, it’s her that initiates, so Medea smiled when he was the first to tell her it. “Je t’aime aussi Papa.” 

It was Metropolis, what’s the worst that could happen?

There’s a superhero. Or, maybe wannabe superhero is the better term. He calls himself ‘Superman’. Yeah, while Medea wasn’t a mask, she’s pretty sure that Superman looked a little older than her age. 

He reminds her of Kid Flash in a way, but in that Superman here is a lot cockier. 

Also, he has a rather interesting style. The leather jacket is ambitious. Personally, she thought that it wouldn’t survive very long in this field. Medea knows the amount of armour that her brothers, Dad and clothes that Mom has easily gone through in jobs. 

“Superboy.”

“Superman,” he repeats, slightly aghast at being labelled such. “Don’t you see the ‘s’, it stands for Superman, duh.”

“You look like you’re my age,” she points out. “There’s no way you’re the original.” Absentmindedly, Medea wondered if Dad would laugh at this situation later. She didn’t go looking for the supermen, he just sort of appeared and thought she was interesting to talk to. 

“That’s because I’m not. I’m a better version.”

“Better how?” 

Now that seemed to be the right question to ask. At her words, he sent her a smirk. “Wanna find out?”

They found a rooftop, up and away from his ‘adoring’ fans and some actual privacy. 

“I can fly,” he brags. 

“As can Superman,” she counters. Sitting on a roof with a hero (designation still pending in her mind) had not been how she had planned the few hours to go, but she won’t complain. He’s a lot better company than she’d first thought. Underneath his cockiness, he's just another kid her age. 

“Faster than him.”

“Hmm, I don’t know, I might have to actually see that in action. Hey, do you think you could beat Kid Flash in terms of speed? Or I guess he’s just the Flash now.”

“Definitely.”

She made a non-committal sound. “I don’t see it. Flash is probably faster,” she teased. “Loads faster.”

“Hey!”

“Well, when you do race him. Be sure to get proof of your victory then.”

“You’ll be the very first one I send it to.”

There are few people outside her family that she can talk to that happens to lead a double life. Well, sort of. Medea wonders if he has another alias, or if he simply is content to live with being solely known as Superman. 

They talk of random things. He tells her the quirks of living in Metropolis while Medea tells him all about the finer intricacies of skating. 

“I could probably beat you in skating,” he says after her explanation. 

“In speed,” she concedes. “But I’ll still beat you in figure skating.”

“Probably. Oh, hey. Have you been to that new rink in the city then? They say it’s really nice.”

“Not yet. I’ve seen the pictures though, is it the same in person?”

It eventually leads to a promise that the next time they cross paths, they’ll see if they can go to the ice rink together to see if it lives up to its reputation. Jokingly, he vows to practice before then so he can beat her in every aspect of skating. 

“But I’m curious though,” he asks, taking a sip from his drink. At one point, they’d both gotten thirsty from all the talking and making use of his superspeed, Superboy returns with two cans of soda. “Who’s your favourite hero?”

“My favourite? Oh, gosh, it's so hard to pick one.” He gestures for her to continue. “Definitely Jericho. The former Kid Flash isn’t too bad. But Wonder Woman is probably at the very top.”

“Come on,” he whined. “That’s pretty cruel. I don’t even make it into the top four? I even got you a soda.”

“Fine,” she sighed dramatically. “I suppose you’re alright.”

“Yes!”

Soon, it’s getting closer to having to meet Cass and she has to take her leave. He offers her a speedy trip to the theatre. It’s a kind offer, but she declines, knowing that where he goes, attention follows. She rather holds onto the anonymity a civilian affords her a little longer. They don’t even exchange names– because what are the chances they would cross paths again?

Superboy is an interesting character, she thinks as she waves goodbye to him. It was nice to talk to him. He’d been similar in some ways to the speedster, yet different in other ways. 

Funny thing about the former Kid Flash though. About a week after she tasered him, Medea bumps into him in Central City. Panic didn’t begin to describe her emotions when he popped out of nowhere. She didn’t stun him with a Taser this time around. But it had been close.

For some reason, he had asked her for her name. When asked why, he laughed nervously. “Well if we keep bumping into each other, I feel like it’s only fair to stop calling you ‘little ghost girl’ in my head.”

“Little ghost girl?” she echoed. This makes for the strangest nickname she’s ever been given. “You’re a very strange hero, Kid Flash.”

“Flash, actually.” At her confusion, he had elaborated. “Well you know, everyone has gone on to change their names and I figured it was high time I did as well. But anyways, can I get your name?”

“Why do you need it? You’ve already come up with a name.” Jokingly, she added, “What, do you think about me in your spare time or something?” 

“NO. You’re overthinking things. Really.” She didn’t need her ability to know that it had been a lie.

Medea narrowed her eyes, causing him to shift awkwardly on the spot as she tried to figure out his motive. Why?

He’d been persistent and Medea had caved, giving him a name. It just hadn’t been hers. In her haste, she gave a very poorly thought-out name. The barista from earlier that day had been named Linda and they were in a park. Hence the name, Linda Park. 

Dad would be so disappointed in her. She knows she was. 

At the theatre, she discovers that they have the entire box to themselves – it’s much fancier than the ones used to buy when Dad took her out to watch ballet. 

Suddenly, Medea feels underdressed amongst the attendees – even if she’d worn her nicest shoes and dressed up. Cass seemed to fit in much better than she did. The guests that she spied in the neighbouring boxes were dressed to the nines.  

Her sister must pick up on it as she sends Medea a sheepish smile. “It’s a lot,” she admits. “Wasn’t sure which was the best and I asked Dad to help.”

She shakes her head lightly. “It’s alright, I’m happy to see the ballet with you.” After a moment, she couldn’t help but add, “Your Dad… Are you happier now?”

“Yes.” The happiness she excludes tells Medea enough. And that’s as far as they get about on the subject as the lights dim, signalling the start of the ballet.   

The ballet is wonderful, reminding Medea just why she’d fallen in love with it years ago. Even if she never ended up pursuing ballet, it is still lovely to watch. 

She has never seen La Fille Mal Gardée before, but it was slowly proving to be one of her favourites. It’s playful and not once does she consider there to be a boring moment. The clog dance has her chuckling alongside Cass. 

During intermission, Cass brings up that she is auditioning for a role back in Gotham. The troupe she’s in is performing Dracula. Her excitement at performing rubs off on her as well. 

Unfortunately, it does mean that Cass won’t be able to watch her compete at Regionals in person. Not when her auditions are so close to Medea’s competition. Still, it does nothing to diminish the excitement between the two sisters. Both wish the other the best of luck and exchange a promise to keep the other updated on how they do. 

“Would you come?” asks Cass. “To the performance.”

And though the answer on the tip of her tongue is yes, she wonders whether either of her parents would agree. Medea is thirteen and unlike her siblings, she cannot drive and Gotham is much too long of a bus ride for her. “I’ll try my best to,” she settles on, just as the curtains reopen, signalling the end of the intermission. 

As the ballet draws to an end, they take their time getting up. With how many people milling about the lobby, it seems smarter to hold onto each other.

“Thanks,” says Cass quietly as they finally squeeze past the last of the attendees and take their first breaths of fresh air outside the theatre. 

“I enjoyed it. Really. I’m glad you chose this one for us to watch.” 

She smiles. 

Although quite a few people were milling about outside the theatre, it isn't that hard to find her dad – it's pretty easy to spot him when he’s so tall. Medea looked at Cass. “Should I wait? When are you getting picked up?”

“I’ll be fine.” She gestures to an elderly man, further down the street, far, far away from where Slade was standing. “Alfred is there.”

They exchange one last hug before they part ways. 

“Good luck,” whispers Cass. 

“Same to you.”

With that, Medea makes the final journey toward her dad. Taking advantage of the fact he’s distracted and on his phone, she wonders if she could surprise him. Unfortunately, she doesn’t. Not when he looks up from his phone and grins the moment she’s in front of him. “How was the show?”

She pouted to his chuckles. One day, she vowed to herself, one day, she’ll catch him off guard. “It was really good! Almost as good as Giselle.”

“Yeah? Why don’t you tell me all about it?”

So she does. 

Two weeks later when Medea competes at Regionals, her cheeks hurt from smiling so hard, but she has never felt so elated. She’d won! She had won a medal. Second place in the intermediate category. With her win, she has secured a place at junior nationals. 

Dad laughs, sharing in her excitement while Grant jokes that he knew the clairvoyance degree he’d got had come into handy. Like magic, he reveals a huge bouquet from behind his back. 

It is only the two of them here with her today, but it's alright. Because this is only the first of what Medea hopes to be many competitions. It is at junior nationals that she hopes her family will watch her in person. 

The first moment she gets, Medea checks her phone to find a flurry of messages from both family and friends. There’s a message from Mom that makes her giddy. Joey and Rose send their congratulations. Rather than a congratulatory message, Cass sends Medea a keyboard smash of emojis at her win. 

Even Eddie sends her his congratulations. He sends her a photo of a bowl of popcorn and there in the background is the tv showing her receiving her medal.

Days later, when Cass sends her a picture of the cast list of the ballet she’ll be performing at, Medea repays the favour. There, in black and white is Cassandra Cain-Wayne cast as Mina Murray.

It has been months since Grant has been in the states. Medea is more than eager to spend time with her oldest brother, and Dad lets her, knowing full well that even if he said no, Grant would probably just abduct her so that they could hang out. 

“Let yourself in, I’m finishing up some errands and the place is keyed to you,” Grant tells her over the phone. “Is there anything you want me to pick up? I’ll stop by that bakery that you like.”

“Ooh, those donuts down by fourth?” Turning the corner, Medea found his current safe house. The building looked just like your average apartment. 

“Sure.”

Getting through the lobby is easy, but then she stares at the electronic lock. “What’s the code?” It was more polite to ask than to break in.

“You won’t need it. Just put your hand on the handle and it’ll open for you.”

Though she trusts him with her life, Medea stares in confusion as the door did just that. She’s not sure whether she wants to know how he had her biometrics keyed to this place. The logistics seemed…messy. Her brothers hadn’t put an electronic chip in her or something, right? 

“Did it work?” prompts Grant at her silence. 

“Yeah.”

“Okay, then make yourself at home. I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

So Medea does. Taking off her shoes, she left them by the shoe rack and made her way past the living room and into the kitchen. With a glass of water in hand, Medea made a beeline to the couch. She doesn’t sit there very long when she feels a strange presence. It was almost like someone was spying on her. But Grant wouldn’t do that, so–

From the shadows of the hallway, a girl around Grant’s age appeared. Shock didn’t begin to describe what Medea felt, not when the other person held what looked to be a pair of trident daggers in her hands. “What are you doing here?” Just as quickly, her murderous aura was replaced with recognition. The weapons disappeared. “Oh, you must be one of his sisters.”

That was promising, right? Still, Medea couldn’t think of anything to say, so she stared blankly at the other person. Grant, please come home soon.

“Which one are you? Wait, let me guess. The youngest, right?”

This was by far the weirdest interaction Medea ever had. Probably. 

The stranger finds her adorable, and Grant returns to his place to see Medea’s cheeks being pinched. It doesn’t hurt, but Medea faintly wonders if this is what babies went through. Did her parents ever subject her to this? 

“Your cheeks are so soft.” At Grant’s arrival, she merely turned and said, “Hey.”

Her brother sighed before pulling Medea toward him, further away from her reach. “Jade, stop it.”

“Stop what?” Even so, she didn’t continue and for that Medea was grateful. 

“Don’t harass my sister. Also, stop letting yourself in.”

Huh. 

The stranger or rather, Jade, harrumphed. “Then stop making it so easy to break in.” She leans a little closer to poke at Medea’s cheek playfully. “She’s like a doll. You know the ones kids play dress-up with?”

“No, I really don’t,” says Grant dryly. “Medi, this is Jade. She’s…a friend. She’s mostly harmless.”

“A friend?” Jade winked at her. “Your brother isn’t cool enough to be friends with me.” Then she straightened to glare at Grant. “Mostly harmless? That’s rich coming from someone who lost our last match.” 

“Did not!”

Medea isn’t that surprised to learn that Jade is a member of the masked community. Not with how their first meeting had gone. Cheshire is her alias, and Medea thinks the name sounds oddly familiar. An assassin, she realizes a little later. It turns out Jade is Grant’s friend/acquaintance – neither of them can agree on what exactly they are to the other. 

“Trust me, Medi. She’s the worst when we work. Always flirting with Speedy, it’s embarrassing,” he tells her as Medea settles beside him on the couch while Jade takes the empty spot on the armchair. “Now that I think about it, she’s more like an annoyance,” offers Grant. It’s meant to poke fun at the assassin because there’s no ire in Jade at his words. 

“Are you describing yourself or me?” she retorts. “I don’t understand, Medea, how can someone like you have such a…” She gestures vaguely at him. 

“An amazing brother.”

Jade made a face at his words. “I pity your siblings.”

“Hey! Medi, back me up here.”

Jade shakes her head. “Doesn’t count. She has to agree. You’re her brother after all.” A look of mischief appears. “You must have stories of his most embarrassing moments. I’ll trade you?”

Grant covers Medea’s mouth before she could even agree or refuse. “Yeah, you’re not getting any stories out of her.”

Still, there’s one thing Medea is curious about. “How’d you even know about me anyways?”

“It’s hard not to,” says Jade, mirth in her eyes. “Not when he consistently changes the channel to figure skating whenever you compete. You and your siblings are all he talks about.”

Something flickers in her brother’s expression at that, and it’s only after the conversation died that Grant bluntly tells Jade that this is to be kept between them. “Medea’s identity isn’t for sale. Ever.”

“You wound me, Wilson. Don’t you know me?”

“Jade…”

She rolled her eyes. “Alright, fine. You have my word, okay?” 

Grant sneaks a peek at Medea and she nods subtly to agree that she thought Jade was telling the truth. 

“Did you forget that our arrangement already covered things like this?”

He shrugs gracefully. 

The conversation switches to lighter topics, and when the sky starts to darken, Jade takes her leave. She snags the last donut to Grant’s chagrin – “Come on. Really, Jade?” – and ruffles Medea’s hair before slipping out the door. 

“I hope she didn’t scare you off from visiting,” he says awkwardly. 

Medea gave him a tiny shrug. 

“She likes to come and go without warning, I’m used to it. But if you’re uncomfortable…”

The meaning is clear, but she shakes her head. Though she couldn’t help but wonder what the two meant when they talked of arrangements. She swore the word rang a bell from somewhere…

Chapter Text

In a blink of an eye, junior nationals round the corner and to say Medea was a bundle of nerves is an understatement. Her fingers tremble and she frowns when her hair still looks weird to her. This had been the fifth time she’d attempted to put it into a bun. 

The first few times, hair kept coming out of the bun and now that she succeeded, it looked like a nightmare. Sighing, she tugged at the hair elastic and let it fall loose again. Attempt #6, here we go. Medea doesn’t get very far when someone beats her to the hairbrush. 

Looking up, she finds her brother holding it. “Joey, I need it back. Please?”

“Medi, you’ve been at that for ages. Let Joey do it,” says Grant, appearing to take a seat beside her. There are two steaming cups in his hands and he offers her one. “Hot chocolate?”

Joey frowned. “How am I supposed to fix her hair if she’s drinking?” complains the voice that emits from his phone. “Grant, you clearly didn’t think this through.”

He shrugged. 

Neither of them gets to touch their drinks. Not when Joey demands absolute stillness from her and Grant to hold the vanity mirror for him. Rose laughs at their misery and escapes from being recruited by offering to go hunt down her skates for her. 

“You guys realize I’m mute, not blind, right?” crackles Joey’s voice from his phone. 

“No idea what you’re talking about,” says Grant, winking at Medea.

“Don’t move, Medi. You’re going to undo all my hard work.” Joey’s hands deftly continue to fiddle with her hair. Twisting it in ways that Medea has no idea how it will look. “I can’t believe you two would resort to morse code.”

“What morse code?” says Medea with a grin. 

“Nice try, but Grant’s holding a mirror. And you think I didn’t notice his erratic blinking?”

Medea and Grant shared a sheepish look. Oops. 

When Joey finally frees them from their labour, Medea lets out a small gasp at the finished updo. Somehow her brother had done the impossible, making her unruly hair look presentable. “Thanks, Joey!” she says, hugging him. 

Just then Rose appears and hands her skating bag. “Found your skates, but they were nowhere where you told me to find them.” At her confusion, she elaborates, “You said they were near where we put our stuff, they were like on the other side of the arena.”

She tilted her head slightly in confusion. “Maybe I got it mixed up. Sorry.” But Medea thought she had put them right next to Dad when she left to fix her hair. That was weird. She tries to grab the bag, but it slips out of her hand and Grant sighs, picking it up. “Sorry.”

“The nerves are really getting to you, aren’t they?”

She nods. 

“Okay, I’ll hold onto them. Let’s go find you a better seat so you can get them on.”

Her siblings try their best to soothe her nerves, but it is a herculean task. This is nothing like those small competitions she’s done within the club. Junior nationals were nothing to scoff at. 

And it’s also the one time that so many of her family are here watching. Both her parents are here, Uncle Billy, and the majority of her siblings. Not Cass though, the ballet she’s in is nearing the performance dates and they simply cannot afford for her to miss a rehearsal. Cass had been highly apologetic, but Medea understood. Instead, they have plans to meet up one-on-one later this week.

“–you’ll do just fine,” says Grant. “You’ll see, Medi. In just a few hours, we’ll be out celebrating your win.”

“What if I don’t win anything?” It’s a lot of pressure. What happens if she doesn’t even make it to the top four?

“Then we’ll still go out and celebrate that you made it this far,” signs Joey. 

“And you can drown your sorrows in the chocolate fountain.” Rose elbows him for his words. “What? I’m being positive.”

“Really, drowning?”

“I’d fish her out of the fountain,” protested Grant. “I wouldn’t actually let Medi drown.”

Medea shakes her head at the ridiculousness of the conversation that ensues between Grant and Rose. It was an attempt to take her mind off things and she found it working. Because this time when she took the bag from Grant, she didn’t drop it. 

Pulling her skates out of the bag, she’s in the midst of responding to a quip that Joey made when Rose knocks her skates out of her hands. Alongside their brothers, Medea stared at Rose in confusion. It is to their luck that there were still skate guards on the skates so nobody had to risk losing a limb.

“Look.” She gestures to the fallen skates. There on the ground are her skates and something seemed to have spilled out of them. 

Before anyone could respond, Joey bent down to pick up the tiny piece of metal, holding it so that the rest could see what it was. A push pin. Then he grabbed a skate and upturned it, they watched in horror as more push pins fell out. 

There weren’t that very many, but enough to ensure she couldn’t skate today had she pulled the skate on without looking. 

Who would do something like that?

Medea grabbed the other skate and tilted it, watching as the pins pooled into her lap. One, two, three, four, five. Cautiously, she stuck her hand inside her skate and wondered if any were left. There is one, and it soon tumbles out to join the others. Six push pins. Six push pins in her left skate. “Do you think…” Were there any other ways to sabotage a skate?

“Okay, here’s what we’re going to do,” says Grant grimly. “Joey, check the skate you’re holding to see if there’s anything else in there. Medea, you wouldn’t have any other skates, do you?” 

She shook her head. “It’s at home and those are pretty worn out.”

“Okay, try the ones here if Joey says they’re safe. The two of you go hunt down some ice or something. See if you can skate. If not, I’ll go get those from home.” He glances at Rose. “You’re coming with me. We have an hour before the competition officially starts and you can help find the culprit.”

“Keep us updated on the skates,” says Rose, to which Joey nods in agreement. 

“But we’re three hours away from home?” says Medea worried. There was no way he could make it, not unless he could teleport. 

“Don’t worry about the details. Leave that to me.”

Something is up, that much Slade surmises when he catches Grant and Rose making their way to where he was sitting with Shiva. He paused in his conversation when he noted the grim expression on his eldest’s face. 

Shiva turned before looking back at him. “What do you think it is?”

His phone chimed and he pulled it out before slipping it away. “I think we’re about to find out,” he murmurs as the two children approach them. “Why do you think Xenothium is involved?” 

Her eyebrows raised in surprise. “That?”

“What do you need it for?” he asks. “Where are you off to?”

“We’re going to kill somebody,” says Rose flatly and Grant merely smiles blandly. “So do you have any?”

There’s a safehouse about an hour or so away, and he has a small amount there. He tells them that and reiterates his question. Yes, they can use it but he needs a reason first. 

“Don’t worry about it, Dad. We’ve got it handled.” 

Slade finds Rose’s word not one bit reassuring. Nor Grant’s response. “I’ll make sure they don’t get caught.” Somehow that made things even more terrifying. 

He doesn’t get to demand an answer because Grant’s phone rings, prompting him to pick up. Slade watched in confusion as relief filled his eldest’s expression. “Ok, good. We can regroup then.” Grant paused before saying, “We should give Medi the first swing or something. What do you mean that’s a bad idea?” 

Shiva coughed lightly to regain their attention. 

At the sound, Grant looked sheepish, “Oh, right. We don’t need that anymore. But thanks.” 

Just like that Rose and Grant slipped off while Shiva and he stared at their retreating backs. 

“Children are quite strange creatures, no?” says Shiva after a moment. 

He wholeheartedly agreed with that statement. 

The news comes out that there is someone who’s been sabotaging the skates of other competitors, slipping pins into skates amongst other things. An investigation was underway, and it went much quicker than Slade would think it should. A culprit is already found and subsequently kicked out of the competition.

Are skating competitions always so ruthless? wonders Slade faintly. If this was it on the national stage then he feared for Medea if she ever decided to compete internationally. Then a chilling thought slammed into him – she was fine, right? He can’t help but wonder about Grant’s words earlier. 

But he has no time to question any of his children, not when Medea’s name is being announced, looking calmer than earlier. The music begins and he settles for questioning them later.

In the intermediate category, Medea wins bronze and Slade’s never been prouder of her. Then moments later when she joins the rest of them, a bundle of excitement, he learns that she’d almost been one of those victims. 

Oh God. Slade damn near has a heart attack at the knowledge. Shiva looked calm and collected as ever, but he doubted she was feeling that calm. Not when moments later out of Medea’s earshot, she says, “They released the name of the culprit.”