Archive of Our Own

“I'm just beginning to feel
I'm just beginning to give
I'm just beginning to feel
I'm just beginning to live
Before I leave you again
Before the light of the dawn
Before this evening can end
I have been waiting so long”

Dick Grayson had scars and Garfield Logan was curious about every single one of them. 

He wasn't stupid enough to outright ask Dick about them. He knew better than that. But he couldn't help but sneak looks at them during meals or training sessions. Dick was a secretive person by nature; that was something Gar had learned about the older man right off the bat. He didn't talk much about his past or about Batman, which always confused Gar. If he'd been trained by Batman he'd never shut up about it, just like Jason. 

Gar only knew the story behind one of Dick's scars: the approximately three inch long surgical line down the inside of his forearm. He'd heard Jason mention in passing that Dick had cut his tracker out of his arm and that it was a stupid decision in his opinion. Gar wasn't sure what was weirder: that Jason had been upset with Dick because he removed the tracker or that Dick had had one in the first place. 

Gar was sure Dick had more scars than the ones he could see on his arms, but Dick never showed them. He was a pretty modest guy. Gar hadn't figured that fact out until he began living with him in Titans Tower. He never took his shirt off, not even during sparing sessions that got heated, and he always wore pants. When he took a shower he went in fully clothed and came out the same way. Everyone else in the Tower exited in a towel. 

But not Dick. 

Gar had mustered up the courage one day to ask Dick about his issue with being shirtless. He'd assumed that would be a better starting point than trying to interrogate him about the history of his numerous scars. They'd been sitting on the couch, in silence. Dick was reading through something Bruce Wayne had sent his way. Gar never knew what their deal was, and that was one can of worms he had no intention of opening up. 

Gar had put his phone aside, trying to find the willpower to ask his question. He'd been practicing it all week, running it over in his head and making changes when he thought certain words were too aggressive or pushy. 

“Hey, Dick?”

“Hmm?”

He hadn't even looked up from his tablet. Whatever was on it must've been interesting. 

“Can I ask you something?”

Dick's eyes were still on the document. 

“Shoot.”

Was he even listening? Maybe that would soften the blow of the question a bit. Gar took a deep breath and forced the words out. 

“Why don't you ever take your shirt off?”

Dick blinked and finally looked over at Gar, a confused look on his face. 

“What?”

“Not that I want to see you without a shirt, that's weird!” Gar was frantically rambling now. He'd expected Dick to stay distracted by his tablet, he wasn't counting on his full attention. “It's just that Jason and Hank take their shirts off after training and when they shower and I do too and I was just wondering if there was a reason you didn't but you don't have to answer if it's personal I don't-”

“Gar.”

Gar ceased his rambling, glad Dick had interrupted him. He had been word-vomiting on the poor man and he didn't see an end in sight. 

“I… Well, it's a long story. I don’t like talking about it,” Dick had set his tablet next to him on the couch and was rubbing the back of his neck with his hand. He looked nervous, an emotion Gar wasn't sure he'd ever seen on the man. 

“I get it, forget I even asked! I know you don't like to talk about personal things, I was just curious, I'm sorry.”

Dick looked guilty at Gar’s words. “Yeah, I'm not much for sharing, am I?”

Gar wasn't sure if he was supposed to answer that, so he said nothing. 

“I have a pretty nasty scar on my chest, from a few years back. I try not to show it off.”

That was… more of an answer than Gar thought he'd get from the older man, but still pretty vague. One of his first theories had been a scar, but he hadn't thought that could be the definitive answer since Dick had loads of scars on his arms and he never tried to hide those. What made the one on his chest so special?

“That makes sense, I guess,” Gar said dumbly. 

Dick could tell the boy wasn't completely satisfied with his answer, so he offered an olive branch. Dick rolled up the sleeve of his T-shirt to show Gar a long, jagged scar that ran about half a foot down the length of his shoulder. It was a soft white surrounded by pink due to age but still stark against his tan skin. 

“I got this one when I was thirteen,” Dick started. “Penguin. You know Penguin?”

Gar was vaguely aware of Gotham City's villains, and the name Penguin rang a bell so he nodded. 

“Well, I was a lot dumber back in the day. Took unnecessary risks. Got myself captured by Penguin’s hired men. They wanted to use me as bait to get to Batman. I remember when he finally showed up. Penguin was holding a knife to my throat. Bruce just…”

Dick took a moment to breathe. Gar was starting to wonder what he'd gotten himself into. 

“Bruce threw a Batarang at Penguin. It took him by surprise. His hand moved down with the knife and it got me in the shoulder. Alfred had to give me stitches.”

There was a sinking feeling in Gar’s stomach as Dick finished the story. 

“So if Bruce hadn't thrown that Batarang, Penguin wouldn't have cut you?”

Dick looked like he was thinking hard about Gar’s words, a conflicted look on his face. 

“It was either that or Cobblepot killed me. I'll take the scar any day.”

Gar didn't ask Dick about his scars after that. He wasn't sure he wanted any more answers. 

Dick fucking hated the color orange.

He forced his back against the concrete wall, his legs drawn up to his chest. He knew logically there was no way he could physically feel the metal Deathstroke logo positioned over his heart, but he could swear he felt the weight of it against his chest. The metal armor felt foreign to him, made him feel heavier. He wasn’t used to extra protection. It messed with his usual acrobatics, which is how he’d ended up in this tiny room in the first place.

Slade Wilson was unhappy about how sloppy he was on his last mission. And when Slade was unhappy, Dick was locked away in the cold, dark room he was becoming more and more accustomed to. 

It was barely larger than a closet. If Dick reached his arm out all the way, he could touch the opposite wall. Sometimes Slade left him there for a whole day, sometimes even longer. Dick wasn’t actually sure how long, though. He had no way to keep track of time. Slade only ever came to retrieve him, never to feed him or check up on him. Dick’s stomach rumbled just at the thought of food.

No, Slade didn’t need to come and look at him; he had a speaker system installed in the room. He usually used it to taunt Dick. That seemed to be his favorite pastime. 

It’d been a month since he’d left the Titans. It had been for their own good, but Dick still felt guilty about it. He hadn’t even gotten to say goodbye or tell them why he’d joined Slade. They probably all thought he was a traitor and would continue to for the foreseeable future. There wasn’t much Dick could do to change their minds, either. He knew eventually Slade might send him to fight them, but it hadn’t happened yet. He was both dreading and looking forward to the day.

The door to the room clicked open and Dick winced as light flooded into the small space. It wasn’t too bad; Slade’s body blocked out a good portion of it.

“Are we ready to behave?”

Dick scoffed at the man’s words. Every time he spoke it seemed he belittled Dick in some way.

“Perhaps not.”

Slade took a single step and was able to reach Dick. He grabbed him by the hair, not seeming to care that Dick yelped in pain as he tried to struggle out of the hold. Dick was strong, but Slade was a Meta-human; Dick was usually no match for him even on a good day. He continued to drag Dick out of the room and further down the hall until they reached the main room where Slade often trained Dick and briefed him on missions. With a half-hearted throw, Slade had tossed Dick across the floor, probably smiling under that stupid helmet at the way Dick grunted when his face made contact with the cement floor.

“I have tried to be patient, apprentice. But that patience is now wearing thin.”

He was circling Dick now, watching him as he pushed himself off of the floor. He was shaky on his feet but he willed himself to keep standing. The last thing he needed was to look weak in front of Slade. That’s what the man wanted.

“It has been a month and yet you still defy me. It’s almost as if you don’t care for your friends’ safety.”

“You know that’s not true,” Dick bit back, his eyes following Slade as he continued circling.

“Could’ve fooled me, kid.”

Dick balled his hands into fists.

“Take your armor and top off.”

Dick looked at the older man, confused.

“What the hell-”

A heavy boot kicked out the back of Dick’s legs, causing his knees to hit the floor hard. 

“Do I have to do it for you, or can you be a big boy?”

Dick practically snarled at the man. That didn’t seem to be the response he was looking for though, as he backhanded Dick across the face, watching silently as the younger man’s body laid pathetically on the cold floor. Dick tried to push himself up, but Slade’s boot on his neck prevented him from moving.

“I won’t tell you again, Apprentice. Take it off.”

The pressure from Slade’s boot disappeared and Dick pushed himself to his knees once more on shaky arms. He started with the metal gauntlets, then the matching pauldrons. The dual orange and black top came next, leaving Dick in the black compression shirt he wore under Slade’s armor. He refused to call it his. 

“Undershirt too.”

Dick had no idea what Slade had planned, but he knew for a fact he wasn’t going to like it. With a soft sigh he grabbed the bottom of his shirt and pulled it over his head, discarding it in the pile he’d begun to make. He shivered, able to feel just how cold the room was now that he was shirtless.

“See. Was that so hard?”

Dick didn’t dignify the question with a response.

“I think the problem here is that you don’t yet know your place,” Slade continued, walking behind where Dick was kneeling. There was the sound of metal scraping against metal and then Slade was walking back towards him.

“You don’t fully understand that you’re no longer free. You belong to me, apprentice. You are a weapon for me to use as I see fit.”

Slade was in front of Dick now, a metal rod with Deathstroke’s logo burning red hot at the end. Dick’s heart began to race at what it implied.

“You’re not Robin anymore. You’re not a Titan. You’re not even Dick Grayson.”

Dick started shuffling away, his eyes not leaving the smoking brand. Slade grabbed Dick by his neck swiftly, not seeming to mind the way Dick choked due to the pressure. His hands clawed uselessly at Slade’s arm but it didn't deter the man. If anything, it made him more aggressive. Dick was pulled closer to Slade, the man staring at him from under his helmet.

“You’re my apprentice. And that is all you’ll ever be.”

Dick was struggling fiercely now, desperate to get away. But Slade wasn’t letting up.

“So let me do you a favor and remind you who your master is.”

Tightening his grip on Dick’s neck so that he couldn’t move too much, Slade brought the brand down over where Dick’s heart was, the same place the logo on Slade’s uniform laid. Dick screamed in agony as the brand burned its way through his skin, the scent of burnt flesh the only thing he could smell. Black dots began to swim in his vision and he forced himself not to faint.

Slade held the brand there for what felt like an eternity, but it was probably only a handful of seconds. When he finally released Dick’s neck, the young man flopped to the ground, not even trying to push himself back up. He remained motionless on the ground, finally finding some comfort in how cold the floor was. His entire body felt like it was on fire.

“It had to be done, apprentice. You must learn your place.”

Dick was only vaguely aware of the fact Slade was speaking to him. He was having a hard time focusing on anything as his vision began to be tinted with more blackness. He tried to keep his eyes open but quickly lost the battle against the pain he was in. His eyes closed and remained that way as Slade stood over him, his helmet off and a sickening smile on his face.

Dawn stood in the hallway, her face devoid of any expression. Dick was used to this routine from her by now, but it still made him feel almost like a bug under a magnifying glass. 

“You’ll have to tell them eventually, you know.”

Dick hated that he knew what Dawn was talking about.

“They deserve to know, Dick. They’re a part of this team, and keeping it from them is unfair.”

Dick crossed his arms, his eyes purposely not meeting Dawn’s.

“You don’t have to tell them everything, just… at least mention why Deathstroke is back.”

“And how do I mention that without telling them everything?”

Dawn didn’t rise to the bait. Dick hadn’t expected her to.

“Dick, it’s your past to tell. I can’t tell you what to say or how to say it, that’s not up to me. But they’re going to find out eventually, they’re smart kids. So either tell them on your own terms or play damage control later. Your choice.”

“I can’t do this right now, Dawn. I have to get Jason back,” Dick dismissed the woman as he began to walk away. Dawn grabbed his upper arm, stopping him. 

“No, Dick, we have to get Jason back. You’re not alone in this. You never were.”

He remembered this song and dance. Perhaps it was just as relevant as it had been all those years ago.

“I know, I know. I’ll tell them, Dawn, just… let’s get Jason back first, okay?”

Dawn studied Dick’s face for a moment, as if trying to figure out if he was lying to her or not. He must’ve passed the test, because she let go of his arm.

“Okay, Dick. Let’s bring our boy home.”

It was Dawn’s turn to walk away, but this time around Dick let her go. He knew what he had to do, and the other Titans weren’t going to like it. He’d have to trade Rose for Jason. There was just no way around it. If there was one thing he knew about the mercenary, it was that he was persistent. He’d actually learned that one the hard way. 

He didn’t like it, the thought of trading one child’s life for another. It reminded him a bit too much of what had happened four years ago. A day he tried to forget.

The past was coming back to bite him in the ass, just as he feared it would. He just wished no one else would have gotten caught up in the crossfire.

It was the only thing on Dick’s mind on the elevator a few hours later, Hank’s voice ringing through his comms. He took the earpiece out, tossing it onto the floor of the elevator.

“Sorry guys,” Dick said as he stomped on the ear piece, his name the object’s last word spoken. “Other plans.”

The elevator continued to rise, as did Dick’s anxiety. The last thing he wanted to be doing tonight was taking on Slade. The man was going to fight dirty and Dick didn’t have that luxury. Jason’s life was in his hands. He couldn’t afford to mess up again.

The doors parted and Dick walked through, his body on full alert. The unfinished floor was eerie which did nothing to calm Dick’s nerves. Still, he forced himself to stay focused. He couldn’t let Jason down just because he couldn’t get his shit together. 

“I know you’re here.”

Dick’s eyes darted around the room as he continued walking, turning a corner near some construction equipment.

“I’m sure this has nothing to do with Jason or Rose.”

Dick raised his hands in a surrendered position.

“You want your pound of flesh. Revenge for what happened. And I want this to end once and for all.”

Dick paused, his head looking up and down. Why hadn’t Slade shown himself yet? Usually by this point he was mocking Dick or boasting about something.

“So how about we make a deal, huh?”

Dick hated what he was saying. His heart was beginning to race and Dick hoped to God Slade couldn’t hear it. Dick remembered the last deal he’d made with the man. It hadn’t ended well.

He couldn’t think about that now. There was too much at stake, too many lives on the line. Just like last time. 

Exactly like last time.

Dick’s arms fell down to his bulletproof vest, removing it swiftly before tossing it aside. His hands rose once more as he forced his vocal chords to work. His entire body felt like it was on fire yet chills shivered down his spine. His head was cloudy and he felt like at any moment he might faint. Breathing was beginning to become harder and his brain helpfully supplied that he was in the midst of a panic attack. He forced himself to be grounded. He couldn’t freak out, not now. This couldn’t be like last time.

No one was going to die this time.

“You can have me,” Dick forced out, his voice remarkably steady and clear all things considered. “Instead of Rose or Jason.”

His body was nearly shaking in its place. He couldn’t do this. Not again. He couldn’t go back there.

“Pretty sure I’m the one you’re mad at anyway.”

Dick took a steady breath before intertwining his fingers behind his head.

“Here I am.”

Dick bent one knee and then the other, forcing his body to kneel on the cold ground despite the terrible memories it brought back. 

“Unarmed.”

Dick jumped suddenly as shots fired around him, each missing him perfectly. He forced his hands behind his head once more, his head bent in that all-too familiar position of obedience. 

“You never learn, do you?”

Dick’s blood ran cold at the voice. He could hear the familiar creak of his armor as he walked around the corner, watching Dick like a predator might its prey. Dick’s heart felt like it might burst out of his chest. The room was suddenly extremely hot. His vision blurred slightly as he blinked rapidly, forcing himself to relax. 

“Always the hero.”

Dick’s eyes began to follow Slade’s movements as he slowly positioned himself in front of Dick.

“But you’re not gonna dictate how this will go.”

Dick looked up at Slade, forcing his voice not to shake.

“Let’s just get this over with, huh?”

Slade backed away, slow and steady, like he still might strike at any moment.

“Get up.”

Dick took another deep breath as he forced himself to his feet, his eyes still downcast. The sound of a switch flipping forced Dick to look towards Slade.

“Take a look.”

Confused, Dick looked ahead once more, watching as the screen rose to reveal a large window. Outside the window hung Jason, his hands tied behind his back. There was a faint blinking red light and Dick immediately knew it was a bomb of some sort. It was attached to the wire that held Jason up above the streets. Dick had a sick feeling in his stomach. 

Jason was going to die nearly the same way his parents did.

Slade held a remote trigger in his hand, his masked face tilted as he studied Dick’s reaction to seeing Jason.

“Let’s make that deal, apprentice.”

Dick’s eyes quickly shot to Jason, trying to gauge if he’d heard what Slade called him. Jason either didn’t hear, simply didn’t react, or had other things on his mind. Dick was guessing it was somewhere between the first and third.

“I have to give you a little credit. You certainly have a thing for helping kids.”

Dick wasn’t sure where Slade was going with this. Or maybe he was and he just didn’t want to think of what it implied.

“Have yourself a fine collection indeed.”

“What the fuck’s your point?”

Slade tensed the finger that hovered over the remote control. Dick’s chest tightened.

“Careful, apprentice. I wouldn't want my finger to slip.”

Dick’s eyes narrowed at the threat, but he shut his mouth.

“My daughter sure seemed to like you. Isn’t that right, Rose?”

Dick’s head shot around at the sound of new footsteps. He watched as Rose emerged from the shadows, a smug look on her face. Jason’s screams outside the window got louder. 

“He’s alright,” Rose said simply, moving to stand next to her father.

“What the hell is this?” Dick asked, his voice dangerously low.

“You’ve got such a bleeding heart, it was almost too easy. I had Rose infiltrate the Titans, gain your trust. But she was never there for salvation. It was a test, apprentice. A test to see what you had to lose.”

He’d been an idiot. He’d tried so hard to get the upper hand this time without anyone getting hurt that he’d walked right into Slade’s web. He couldn’t help but think about Dawn’s words. Maybe if he’d just talked to the rest of the Titans this wouldn’t have happened. They could have understood why he was so meticulous when it came to Slade, why the adults had been so secretive. He hadn’t learned a thing from last time.

“You have much to lose, Apprentice. Even more so this time around. So I’ll make you a deal.”

Dick knew what the deal would be. He’d always known what it would be.

“You will return to me and you will help train my daughter as I trained you. Or, I start killing off each and every one of your friends, starting with your young successor.”

Dick looked back at Jason, the boy completely oblivious to what was going on inside. What would he think, with the limited context he had? Would he believe Dick had betrayed the Titans, betrayed him? Would he even know what Dick was sacrificing?

“Sound familiar? Tick tock, apprentice. I’m eager to see if this bird flies.”

There was no choice. Dick never had a choice, just illusions of ones.

“I’ll do it. You know I will.”

Slade smiled underneath his helmet.

“Good boy. Now come here.”

Dick forced his legs to move towards where Slade and Rose stood. He couldn’t believe the girl had played him like that. He’d been so distracted helping what seemed to be another lost teen that he had let her play him for a fool.

“Now, shake my hand.”

Dick hesitated. He knew what Slade had in mind. He could feel Jason’s eyes watching him, begging him to help him. He looked back towards the window one last time, his heart aching at the look of confusion and fear that was plastered across Jason’s face. He had to do it. He had to protect the Titans. He couldn’t let anyone else die because of him. 

He mouthed the words ‘I’m sorry’ to Jason, though he wasn’t sure the younger boy even saw his lips move. With one last look he turned back towards Slade and Rose, forcing himself to extend his hand towards Slade, who took it almost gently. Dick hadn’t thought the man capable of that. He shook Dick’s hand, and it made Dick feel almost as if he were shaking hands with the Devil to forfeit his life in a one-sided deal. He supposed, in a way, he was. 

“Now, if you don’t want to see a Robin-shaped hole in the pavement, you’ll keep quiet. Got it?”

Dick nodded slowly, his mind still in the midst of a slight panic attack. Slade finally released his hand only after he agreed.

“Go ahead, Rose.”

Dick tensed as Rose pulled out a remote similar to the one Slade was holding. She pressed it and Dick feared for the worst, but instead he was simply able to hear Jason’s words more clearly, most of them being curses. The button must’ve taken out some sort of noise-cancelling field. Now Jason would definitely be able to hear them.

“I’m glad you’ve agreed to join me,” Slade said, his loud voice almost gleeful as it spoke. “It’ll be just like old times.”

“Dad’s told me tons of stories,” Rose added, the smirk on her face somehow growing even wider. “You two were quite the duo back then!”

Dick seethed. He knew what their ploy was. This time he was going to be more proactive with getting the Titans to stop caring about him. He was going to make it so they thought it was Dick’s decision to join Slade, that he was a willing party. How had Slade learned from his past mistakes and Dick hadn’t? It just wasn’t fair.

“Your ex-team will be here soon to pick up the boy. Although, it’s almost a shame not to let him fall.”

Slade toyed with the remote in his hand, as if temping Dick to say something. He remained quiet though. Jason was close to getting out. He couldn’t blow it now.

“Another day, perhaps.”

Slade kept his grip on the controller, but it was less forceful now. He beckoned Dick with a nod of his head as he began to walk towards the door leading to the stairway.

“Time to go, apprentice.”

Dick couldn’t bear to look at Jason, at the look of betrayal that had to be on his face as he forced himself to follow Slade and Rose towards the exit, the distant sounds of his once-friends quickly approaching their location.

They’d find Jason and he’d tell them everything. And maybe he could hold onto hope that Dawn, Hank, and Donna would know better, that they’d recognize this pattern, but he knew it wouldn’t be as simple when it came to the kids. They didn’t know what had gone down, they didn’t remember seeing what Slade had put Dick through last time. Hell, Dick hadn’t even told the original Titans all of it. He’d left out some of the more gory details, not wanting to make them worry about him more than they already did.

None of that mattered now. Dick was right back where he’d been four years ago. Jesus, he was still the same scared kid desperate to prove himself, to save everyone no matter the consequences.

He hadn’t learned a damn thing.

Dick was lucky he was able to jump out of the way before the explosion caused the cider block walls to come tumbling down. His team wasn’t as lucky.

“Titans, report!”

Dick’s gloved hands tried their best to dig through the rubble but it was useless.

“Robin, we’re all okay! Stay put, we’ll find a way out!” Wonder Girl’s voice rang out from over the comms.

“Yeah, don’t be a jackass and go after Deathstroke by yourself,” Hawk’s voice added.

In any other situation, Dick might have chuckled at Hank’s command. But he wasn’t in the mood. He couldn’t just hang out until the rest of the team found some way around the blockage. It had been too convenient of an explosion. They’d checked the building’s security features countless times. There was no way they missed something as big as a rigged bomb. It must have been planted after their initial reconnaissance.

They were getting close and Dick couldn’t stop now.

“I’m going to go ahead, see if there’s another way in.”

“Robin-”

“I’ll be fine,” Dick cut Dove off. “If I see Deathstroke, I’ll wait for backup. Scout’s honor.”

He highly doubted his team believed a word he was saying, but they didn’t pick a fight. They must’ve decided now wasn’t the best time. 

God, he’d be getting an earful once they got back to the tower. Even Garth might pitch in, which was saying something since he wasn’t usually one to instigate things with Dick. That was Hank, Dawn, and Donna’s jobs.

Dick continued down the hallway, his body on high alert. He had to be ready for everything and anything, knowing Deathstroke. 

The mercenary had been evading them for weeks now. Every time it seemed they had the upper hand Deathstroke would prove them wrong, leaving behind only a decoy and a message mocking them. Dick had been getting more pissed as the days went on, so pissed that even Hank had told him to tone it down a few times.

Dick couldn’t help it. He was trying to prove himself as team leader and Deathstroke was making a fool of him. He knew the other Titans didn’t see it that way, but it didn’t matter because that’s how Dick felt about it. And history showed that once Dick made up his mind, it took a lot to change it.

He finally reached the end of the hallway, his eyes darting around the large room he’d come upon. It was seemingly an empty storage room of sorts, with various pieces of furniture covered in sheets and shoved against walls. Dick reached towards his back and grabbed his rokushakubō, flicking his wrist to expand the metal weapon. 

“Well, well, well. What do we have here? A little bird, all alone.”

Dick turned sharply towards where the voice had originated from, his eyes squinting behind his mask. There was no one there.

“Did your friends reach a roadblock?”

Dick turned around. The same voice, but it had come from the opposite side of the room. What the hell?

“Let’s do this,” Dick called out, his grip on the bō tightening. “Show yourself!”

“My, eager, are we?”

The voice was louder now. Dick tilted his head, watching as Deathstroke the Terminator finally showed himself, stepping out from behind a partition.

“All in good time, Robin. All in good time.”

This was the first time Dick had seen Deathstroke up close. Until now, he’d always been on a screen or off in the distance as he fled the scene, knowing fully well that the Titans would stay to do damage control rather than go after him. He was tall, but Dick had suspected that, with orange and black armor, guns, and dual swords. His helmet was off-putting, with only one eye slit that glowed in the darkness of the room.

“I’ve been watching you for some time, Robin. I’m quite impressed.”

Dick huffed. “I don’t care.”

“Oh, I think you will,” Deathstroke continued, walking closer to where Dick stood. “I think you’ll care an awful lot.”

Dick had no idea where this conversation was going, but he suddenly wished he’d listened to his team for once.

“The rest of the Titans will be here soon. We won’t let you get away this time.”

“Hmm. I’m not so sure about that.”

Deathstroke’s head tilted slightly as he studied Dick. 

“This isn’t about your friends, Robin. It’s about you. It’s always been about you.”

“What?”

Slade was pacing in front of Dick now, amused by the fact he had broken out of the fighting stance he’d been in.

“Sending trouble your way, leaving cryptic clues for you to unravel. I was testing you.”

Dick felt his heart begin to race as Deathstroke observed him, waiting for a reaction.

“For some time now I have been searching for… an apprentice. Someone to follow in my footsteps.”

Deathstroke was closer to Dick now, his body bent over a bit so his face was in line with Dick’s. He forced himself not to back away from the mercenary.

“And, Robin, I’ve chosen you. Congratulations.”

“No way would I ever work for-”

“I had a feeling you’d say that.”

Deathstroke stood up straight once more, still studying Dick. 

“If you join me, if you swear to serve me, if you never speak to your friends again, I will allow them to live. But, if you disobey even the smallest request, I will annihilate them, Robin. And I’ll make you watch.”

Dick hadn’t seen this coming. Jesus, how could he? He thought Deathstroke was toying with them as a whole team, not just to get to him. This had never been about the Titans. This had never been about protecting San Francisco. This had always been about Dick.

“I will kill each of your friends one by one,” Deathstroke continued. “Will you allow their blood to be on your hands, Robin? Will you sacrifice four lives for one?”

Dick couldn’t… He couldn’t let his friends die. There was no way Deathstroke was bluffing either. The man was a hired gun, Dick had seen his work splattered all over the city. No, he would stay true to his word, much to Dick’s horror. Deathstroke wasn’t giving him a choice, not really. Join him or watch his friends be murdered? That wasn’t a choice. That was a death sentence. 

“So, do we have a deal?”

Dick could hear his team’s voices in his ear piece, but he couldn’t quite make out what they were saying. He was all-too aware of his own pulse and the blood pumping through his body. He felt unbelievably warm all of a sudden, his stomach aching like he might throw up any moment.

“Tick tock, Robin. I’m sure I could take out at least one tonight,” Deathstroke had his hand outstretched, palm up as if expecting Dick to give him something. Dick knew what he wanted.

Dick’s hand shot up to his comms, his fingers pulling it out of his ear despite the worried shouts of the Titans faintly calling his name. He dropped the ear piece in Deathstroke’s gloved hand, watching as the man immediately crushed it to pieces, dropping tiny computer chips and bits of plastic onto the ground.

“Fine. I’ll do it.”

Dick couldn’t see the man’s face, but he was sure he was smiling under that stupid mask.

“Good choice, Apprentice.”

Dick scoffed at the title, but allowed Deathstroke to lead him towards the exit. He could’ve sworn he could hear the rest of the Titans making their way to them, but he forced himself not to look back.

If he looked back it might kill him.

Slade’s base of operations was exactly as Dick remembered it. Save for new files being plastered to his mission board, it perfectly matched his memory from four years ago. Dick wasn’t sure if he welcomed the continuity or not.

“Rose, go change,” Slade commanded, removing his helmet and placing it on a table with field-stripped weapons.

Rose quickly obeyed, disappearing down the hallway that Dick knew led to various rooms, particularly the tiny room Slade had loved locking Dick in. He tried not to think about the room too much.

“Apprentice, get changed as well.”

Dick looked over towards Slade, a bundle of clothing in his outstretched arms. Dick’s heart began to race at the familiar orange and black.

His old uniform.

Dick hesitated, the thought of putting that uniform back on almost too much.

“Is this really the hill you want to die on, kid?” Slade asked, his face somehow a mix between amusement and annoyment. 

“Fuck you,” Dick breathed, ripping the uniform out of Slade’s hands.

“Still have a mouth on you, it seems.”

Dick set the uniform on a nearby bench so he could pull his T-shirt over his shirt. Slade’s one good eye lingered far too long on the brand. Dick tried his best to ignore the man’s gaze as he changed. Even when it came to removing his pants Slade refused to look away.

“Still a creep, it seems,” Dick finally retorted, a scowl on his face directed towards Slade.

“Relax, you’re not my type.”

Dick scoffed, fastening the metal gauntlets that seemed to weigh a million pounds. By the time he got to tying the black boots, Rose had returned, wearing a similar uniform to her father, though the portion that would have been black on Slade's uniform was more of a dark indigo. Her own one-eyed helmet was tucked under her arm.

“Renegade,” Slade said, looking at Dick, his signature smirk plastered across his face.

“Meet Ravager,” he finished, his gaze shooting towards Rose, her free hand sternly on her cocked hip.

“Renegade?” Dick questioned. 

“With two apprentices now, I wouldn’t want to get you two confused,” Slade mused. “Besides, I heard the name ‘Robin’ is taken.”

Dick didn’t react, only kept a steady, emotionless gaze on Slade.

“Four years ago you would’ve risen to the bait,” Slade smiled, clearly impressed as he wrapped his fingers around Dick’s chin possessively. “Perhaps you do learn.”

After a moment, Slade released his grip on Dick’s face so he could begin to pace in front of where Dick and Rose stood, shoulder to shoulder like soldiers marching into battle. Perhaps too accurate of a simile. 

“I’m putting the finishing touches on our latest hit. But first, I want to see what you two got.”

Dick felt the air shift next to him as Rose tensed. He forced his eyes to stay on Slade.

“You’ll spar. Whoever hits the floor first doesn’t eat tonight.”

Dick narrowed his eyes slightly.

“Both of you, on the floor.”

Rose moved immediately, pausing by the edge to bow before entering the dojo area. Dick followed suit, positioning himself in the corner parallel to Rose. She’d placed her helmet on the ground by her feet before getting into a fighting position. Dick brought his arms up as well, though his were at more of a blocking position than Rose’s aggressive, offensive ones. 

“Begin.”

Rose attacked like a wild animal, lunging at Dick with an almost primal scream. Dick blocked, pushing her away with a strong arm. Rose was talented, but Dick was experienced. Some of her moves were just his moves, after all. Slade probably noticed this, but his expression was unreadable as he stood towards the side, his arms crossed against his chest as he watched.

Dick sent a punch to Rose’s side, trying to hurt her the least amount possible. She kicked at Dick’s knee with enough power to shatter it if he hadn’t moved his leg first. 

“Rose, focus,” Dick whispered, grabbing her by the wrist and flipping her body around.

“Shut up!” she roared, her fist colliding with Dick’s jaw. He staggered back, his hand reaching to touch blood. He could taste it in his mouth.

She believed Slade when he said only the winner would eat. She was taking it to heart. She was reacting purely on instinct and it was making her a bit sloppy. Against someone not as skilled as Dick, it wouldn’t have made much of a difference. But to Dick it gave him a sure-fire win.

Except he couldn’t bring himself to take the shot. He’d had countless opportunities to take Rose down, but he didn’t. He just kept blocking her, only sending mild hits her way, which was just pissing her off more. 

“Stop toying, Renegade,” Slade hissed. 

Dick knew he’d have to take a dive. He couldn’t eat knowing Rose was going without. He wouldn’t be able to live with himself. It wasn’t just himself he needed to look after; he had Rose as well.

Oh, how history repeats itself, Dick thought humorlessly to himself. He couldn’t believe how easy he was.

Dick had made up his mind, though. He wasn’t letting a child go hungry. So when Rose grabbed his arm to flip him over onto the floor, he let her, only wincing slightly as his back made contact with the hard flooring.

Rose stood over him, panting as it seemed her mind came back to her, as if she’d been fighting in some sort of trance. There was a peculiar look on her face, once Dick might have pegged as ‘guilty’ if his head wasn’t throbbing so loudly. 

“I’m disappointed in you, Renegade,” Slade said in his usual calm voice, grabbing Dick roughly by the hair to pull him to his feet. “It seems you’ve forgotten some lessons.”

Dick pulled himself away from Slade’s grip once he’d regained his footing, an annoyed look gleaming in his eyes as Slade grabbed onto his upper arm, dragging him back to God-awful cell Dick knew far too well. 

“If you continue to let her win,” Slade said, his voice dangerously low. “I will shoot that little green-haired boy like a goddamn dog.”

Dick took a steady breath, hating how it shook slightly.

“Do your job, or I’ll do mine.”

With those final remarks, Slade had slammed the door closed, plunging Dick in a darkness he’d hoped he’d forgotten.

The door to the impossibly small room opened and Dick tried not to wince from the sudden bright light that engulfed the figure standing in the doorway. Dick was confused; it definitely wasn’t Slade, the person was much shorter and less muscular.

Dick had been with Slade for what he assumed was two weeks now and he hadn’t seen another living thing in Slade’s base besides the mercenary himself.

“Hello?” Dick called out, his voice hoarse. He hadn’t spoken in nearly two days, if his internal clock was correct. 

Slade had been pissed about a training exercise, which Dick was starting to see was a common occurrence with the older man. Even the smallest mistakes seemed to piss him off and he always made sure to take it all out on Dick while reminding him that his friends’ lives were in his hands. 

Dick hadn’t been as brutal as Slade had wanted him to be when they were sparing last. He’d had a clean shot at Slade’s head with his sais but hadn’t taken it. Slade had retaliated, smashing a heavy boot into his ribs, cracking at least two. When Dick had tried pushing the man’s foot off of him, Slade had grabbed onto his hair, smashing his face against the floor. Dick was pretty sure his nose was broken, but he couldn’t be sure. All he knew was that since then, he’d been in the tiny room, curled up on himself to protect his ribs.

He’d expected Slade, with his cocky smirk and insults. But Slade wasn’t waiting by the door.

It was a child.

As the figure walked deeper into the room, Dick could begin to make out some of their features. It was a teenage boy, dressed in worn jeans and a David Bowie T-shirt. He looked hesitant, like he wasn’t sure he should be there.

“Hey,” Dick said, forcing his body to sit up despite how badly his ribs screamed at him. He reached a shaky hand out towards the teen. “It’s okay.”

The boy took another step forward, crouching down in front of Dick. Now that he was closer, Dick could make out a scar that ran vertically across his neck.

“My name’s Dick. What’s yours?”

The boy started signing letters in sign language. Dick closed his eyes for a moment, a wave of nausea overcoming him now that he was upright.

“I’m sorry,” he breathed. “I don’t understand.”

The boy took Dick’s hand in his. Dick flinched at the contact and the boy pulled away.

“No, it’s okay, I’m sorry.”

The smaller hand returned after a moment. The boy moved Dick’s hand so that his palm was facing up. He took his pointer finger and started tracing letters into the palms of Dick’s hand, slowly so Dick had time to spell.

“Jericho,” Dick sighed as the boy finished spelling. “Nice to…”

He trailed off, groaning as the room began to spin. The boy, Jericho, helped Dick lay back down, gently guiding him back onto the ground so that Dick didn’t fall and hurt himself more. Dick wanted to thank him but suddenly he couldn’t find his voice.

Jericho started tracing letters onto Dick’s palm once more. Luckily he seemed to keep it short, as Dick wasn’t too sure how much brainpower he could put into spelling at the moment.

“L-A-S-T E-A-T W-H-E-N?”

“I dunno,” Dick licked his terribly dry lips. “Few days ago? I don’t remember.”

Jericho looked concerned. Dick couldn’t blame him. He suddenly started digging in his jeans pockets, emerging with a granola bar. He passed it to Dick after unwrapping it half-way.

“Who…” Dick tried to bring the granola bar to his mouth but his arms suddenly felt like they had lead weights attached to them. Jericho noticed and took the granola bar back, bringing it to Dick’s mouth. Dick took a small, grateful bite, carefully chewing. He wanted to devour the granola bar in one go but he also didn’t want it to come back up.

“Did he… does Slade…”

Jericho ran a small hand through Dick’s blood and sweat-soaked hair. He tried not to lean into the touch but it was hard.

“Are you…”

“D-A-D.”

Dick’s head was starting to pound again.

“Slade’s your dad? Is… is that…”

Jericho balled one of his hands into a fist, shaking it up and down as if it were a head nodding.

“Oh, God,” was the last thing Dick said before he passed out.

“What the fuck was that?”

Dick looked up from where he’d been cleaning one of Slade’s many guns. He’d been at it for a few hours now. Funny how things like this came back to him. Like riding a bike.

“What’re you talking about?”

Rose had her hands on her hips, an annoyed expression on her face. She’d changed out of her Ravager suit since last night and was dressed instead in a tank top and workout leggings. Dick hadn’t gotten a change of clothes, but he’d taken a chance after Slade had thrown him into his room last night and removed most of the Renegade uniform. He was just in the uniform’s pants and the compression shirt he wore underneath.

“When we sparred last night. You let me win. Why?”

Dick tossed the bore snake onto the table and wiped his hands off on a rag.

“Has he withheld food from you like that before? Told you to eat you’d have to win?”

“What are you, a fucking shrink? You don’t know shit, Grayson.”

“He’s done it with me. I know what Slade is like, what his games are. I’m just trying to-”

“Well, stop trying!” Rose bit back, her hands now balled into fists at her sides. “I don’t need you to look out for me, I’m not a kid, okay? So fuck off!”

Before Dick could respond to her outburst, Rose was gone, pushing past where Slade now stood to storm down the hallway. Dick could hear the distant sound of a door slamming shut. 

“My, you have a way with women,” Slade said, a smirk on his face as he made his way over.

“God, do you ever shut up?”

Slade, in response, slapped Dick across the face. It stung, but it wasn’t as rough as Dick knew it could’ve been.

“You need to work on not talking back.”

“I’ll put it on the list,” Dick couldn’t help himself.

“You seem to forget what I can do, apprentice. Do you really care so little for the Titans?”

Dick exhaled sharply. One part of him was aware all Slade had done so far was make threats and slap him around a bit, that he wasn’t sure the man even intended to kill one of the Titans. Another, much louder, part of him remembered what had happened to Garth four years ago. 

That part of him always seemed to win, in the end. 

“Get on the floor.”

Dick tossed the rag onto the table, following Slade over towards the training area. The taller man grabbed a rokushakubō from a weapons stand and Dick followed suit, his hands automatically gripping the weapon at thirds. Slade watched him carefully, his one eye following Dick closely as he got into position.

“Give me your all, apprentice. Don’t hold back.”

Dick glared. “I won’t.”

Slade struck first, his bō hitting Dick in the shoulder. The younger man winced slightly but retaliated, swiping his bō up in one fluid motion. Slade positioned his own bō vertically, blocking Dick’s strike.

“Too slow,” he taunted. 

Dick tried again, holding the bō almost like a pool cue so he could jab Slade in the ribs, but the man simply blocked again, using one end of the bō to knock Dick against the head. He staggered back, his head beginning to pound. He was only slightly aware of the blood that was starting to run down his forehead, most of it caught in his hair.

“You’re rusty,” Slade commented, knocking the bō into Dick’s knees now that he was too out of it to properly block. “It’s embarrassing, really.”

Dick forced his legs to move despite how much his knees now ached. He repositioned his grip on the bō and slammed it into Slade’s neck. It hit. The man grunted, his expression turning from slightly amused to pissed. 

“Lucky shot.”

Slade came back with a vengeance, his body moving almost too fast for Dick to keep up. He blocked as quickly as he could, but some of the hits got past his own bō and landed on him. Dick was slowing down, getting tired. After another hit to the head, he was almost certain he had the beginnings of a concussion. He was seeing double, his head pounding like a bass drum. Slade used this to his advantage, taking the bō and sweeping it under Dick’s legs, watching as the shorter man fell to the hard floor with a small cry of pain.

Slade held his bō in one hand, looking down at where Dick now laid. 

“Pathetic,” Slade said, sending a kick into Dick’s exposed side. The man yelped, trying in vain to curl in on himself. That only seemed to egg Slade on more as he landed a few more swift kicks, his heavy boots not showing Dick’s worn body any mercy.

“If you act like this during the mission in two days, you’ll be in for a world of hurt, and so will your friends.”

Dick didn't have the energy to question what Slade meant or to even give one his witty remarks. His eyes were beginning to droop and he knew sleeping with a concussion wasn’t a great idea, but he couldn’t help it. He felt his eyes close as he lost the fight against falling unconscious, his last sight being Slade standing over him.

Dick was semi aware of the fact that Slade had dumped him in the bathroom a few minutes ago with the command to bathe himself, but he hadn't moved an inch on the cold tile since the mercenary had left. He was more aware, however, of the fact that he was bleeding from at least a few separate places, but he wasn't sure he could tell where exactly. Definitely his back, if he had to make a guess. 

He barely remembered what his last mission had entailed. It was all a blur, but Dick vaguely remembered breaking into a lab and stealing something locked in an industrial strength cooler. He couldn't quite recall who the chemical was for or why Slade's client needed it. He'd very nearly been caught and Slade hadn't liked that one bit. 

Dick's punishment was also a bit hazy, but maybe that was the blood loss talking. Something with a whip, he was sure of it. That would explain his lack of a shirt and the throbbing pain in his back. 

He couldn't even bring himself to remove the rest of his uniform and turn the water on. He was too tired, too sore. Slade would be even more pissed to see Dick had defied him, but Dick also couldn't bring himself to care all that much. 

Dick's eyes, half closed, watched as the bathroom door creaked open slowly, a pair of worn Converse meeting his gaze. He recognized those shoes. 

“Jericho?” Dick slurred, his head aching. 

Jericho walked closer to Dick and the older man watched as the teen leaned down, his face meeting Dick's. He looked concerned, but Dick wasn't sure why. Maybe it was the blood covering his back. That could be it. 

‘What did he do?’

Dick blinked, glad he'd been brushing up on his sign language as of late. Jericho was an excellent teacher. 

“Nothing I didn't deserve.”

Jericho looked angry, but Dick knew that anger wasn't directed at him. It'd been two months since he'd first met the teenager, and Dick had grown to recognize when he was reacting to Dick or to something his father had done. 

‘Let me help.’

Dick might have nodded his head. He couldn't tell, but it would explain why Jericho started trying to pull him up into a sitting position, his unimpressive frame surprisingly strong. His hands hesitated at Dick's belt, but the older man continued to nod. 

“It's okay. Just do it.”

Jericho still looked wary, but he continued anyway, unbuckling Dick's belt swiftly in an almost clinical nature. He pushed Dick gently against the shower wall, his eyes full of sorrow at the small whimper that escaped Dick once his wounded back made contact with the tiled wall. 

‘I’m sorry.’

“It's… it's okay.”

Jericho made quick work of Dick's pants and Dick was glad he was still coherent enough to help by slightly lifting himself off of the ground so Jericho could slide them all the way off.  Once he'd discarded the dirty pants, Jericho stood and went to turn on the shower. Dick rested the back of his head against the cool tile. He felt hot all of a sudden and he wasn't sure why. 

Jericho reappeared in his line of sight, his hands moving slow enough for Dick to register the words. 

‘Water is warming up. I'll go get first aid kit.’

“Okay.”

Dick watched through blurry vision as Jericho disappeared, the only sound his own head pounding and the shower trying desperately to warm up. Dick couldn't help but wish for a cool shower, but he knew he'd regret it the minute the water hit him. 

He knew he should probably be cold, due to the fact that he was only in his underwear, but he couldn't find it in him to care that much. He was certain he was getting sick; Slade didn't seem to find it necessary to make sure Dick was properly taken care of half the time. If Dick was being honest, he was surprised it'd taken him this long to start feeling ill. It'd been almost three months of sleeping on a cold, hard floor and only eating when Slade decided he had deserved to. 

Dick heard the bathroom door open once more and he watched as Jericho entered the room. It wasn't a standard bathroom, like one that might be found in a house or apartment. It reminded Dick of a high school locker room, though smaller with only one toilet, sink, and uncovered shower head. The entire room was tiled and the drain for the shower was positioned in the middle of the room. 

‘Shower first. Then wrap back.’

“You're the boss,” Dick replied. He wished he could just stay where he was, but he knew that was impossible. 

“My legs are… I don't think you can carry…”

Jericho seemed to understand what Dick was trying to communicate. He instructed Dick with hand movements to move a bit forward, away from the wall. Dick did his best, shuffling his body a few inches forward, slowly but surely. Once he'd gotten far enough away, Jericho positioned himself behind Dick and looped his arms carefully under Dick's armpits, almost as if he were a lifeguard dragging a drowning victim back into shore. 

Dick allowed the teen to pull him towards the shower, depositing him under the now-warm water. Dick cried out as it hit his back, but Jericho's hand in his hair distracted him slightly from the pain. He could feel Jericho begin to lather shampoo into his wet hair. His fingers felt great massaging his scalp and Dick closed his eyes, allowing himself to lean into the gentle touch. 

Most of the time, when Dick was touched nowadays, it was anything but gentle. This was a nice change of pace. 

Dick faded in and out as the shower continued, grateful that Jericho was able to maneuver his lax body into the needed positions. It was a struggle just for Dick to keep his eyes open, especially with warm, relaxing water cascading down him. 

‘Remove underwear?’

Dick shook his head. Slade could be pissed all he wanted, Dick simply didn't have the energy to worry about cleaning himself down there, nor was he certain he wanted to put Jericho through the ordeal. 

“Don't worry about it.”

Jericho looked like he wanted to argue with Dick, but the teen was seemingly picking his battles and this simply wasn't one of them. He rubbed a bar of soap onto a washcloth until a good amount of bubbles had built up before beginning to wash Dick's back carefully. Each time Dick flinched or winced he gave the older man an apologetic look, but Dick just kept nodding him along. He knew the boy didn't mean him harm and that was enough of a reminder to keep him from spiraling into a panic attack. 

“It's okay. It's okay.”

Dick wasn't sure if he was reassuring Jericho or himself. Perhaps both. 

“What is going on in here?”

Jericho’s hand froze over Dick’s back, his fingers gripping the washcloth tightly as he watched his father enter the room, an angry look on his face as he took in the scene before him.

‘You hurt him! He is hurt!’

Dick’s eyes were still closed, only opening after he felt Jericho’s presence leave his side. He watched as Slade pulled the teen to his feet, though it was much more gentle than Slade had ever handled Dick before.

“Leave him… alone… not his fault…”

“Shut up, Apprentice. You’re in enough trouble as it is.”

‘Not his fault! Not his fault!’

“Jericho, go to your room. Now.”

Jericho looked like he wanted to do anything but that, but one look at Dick and his gaze fell to the floor as he slowly exited the bathroom. He hovered in the doorway for a split second to give Dick a reassuring look, but Dick barely registered it as Slade stood over his exposed body to turn the water off. When Dick looked again, Jericho was gone.

“Don’t hurt him… it’s not his fault…”

“Stop talking,” Slade grumbled as roughly pulled Dick up.

Dick screwed his eyes closed, his head beginning to ache even more as the room began to spin. His hands automatically wrapped around Slade’s arms, desperate to brace himself anyway he could.

“Don’t hurt him.”

“I’m not going to hurt my own kid, relax already.”

Dick sighed, trying his best not to vomit. “You hurt me, though,”

Slade took a moment to respond. “That’s different. You’re… you’re not my son.”

Dick was vaguely aware of the fact that Slade was half carrying, half dragging him somewhere.

“I’m no… nobody’s… son… Not anymore.”

There was a large hand suddenly on Dick’s forehead and he recoiled back, though he didn’t have far to go as Slade’s other arm was firmly wrapped around his body.

“Jesus, you’re burning up, Gra-”

Slade cut himself off. Dick wasn’t sure why. Maybe the mercenary just couldn’t bring himself to even call him by his surname. Or maybe he was about to call him something else. Dick’s head hurt too much to dwell on it. 

“Feels like it,” Dick mumbled finally, his words sounding odd once they reached his ears, like they were spoken by someone else.

It felt like forever, but was probably only a minute or two, but Dick eventually was put down on something firm, yet comfortable. It definitely wasn’t the floor; that he was certain of. Dick’s eyes were still closed as he tried his best to push past the vertigo hitting him at full force. The feeling of hand peeling off his soaking wet boxers distracted him from how terrible he was feeling. He started kicking out weakly, his body forced into survival mode.

“Calm down, I’m getting you into dry clothes. Stop it, Apprentice.”

Dick’s head was too fuzzy to fully understand the words being spoken to him, but his fight didn’t last long anyway. His body was far too weak to continue kicking and despite his brain urging him to keep going, he finally allowed Slade to slide the boxers off of him. They were replaced quickly with a new pair, and then what Dick assumed to be sweatpants were slid up his legs.

The feeling of bandages being wrapped around his torso was next and Dick squinted his eyes open ever so slightly to see Slade with a roll of gauze in his hands, wrapping the injuries on Dick’s back in a careful and clinical manner, his face devoid of any expression. It was over just as soon as it had begun and Dick felt Slade’s presence leave his side as the taller man stood to retrieve something else. 

“Can you manage a shirt, at least?”

Dick must have nodded his head, because a T-shirt was thrown against his body. His hands didn’t catch it though and it landed crumpled in his lap. Slowly his fingers gripped the fabric and he forced his eyes open, glad the lights in the new room were dim. It took him longer than it should have, especially with the bandages restricting his movement, but Dick eventually got the shirt over his head.

“Go to sleep. I’m giving you one day to get well, so use it.”

“Are you… will you punish…”

“Don’t worry about Jericho. I already told you I’m not going to hurt him. Honestly, since he discovered you he’s been bitching less and less about going back to his mother. Don’t confuse me making my life easier for sympathy or weakness, though. I can just as easily ban him from having contact with you, Apprentice.”

Dick felt Slade’s hand on his shoulders, maneuvering him so that he was laying down on his side. Dick realized Slade hadn’t brought him to his usual room; this one was a bit bigger and had a military cot in it, which was what he was currently laying on. A wool blanket was thrown over Dick and he immediately wrapped it around his body, his fingers digging into the material.

“Thank you.”

Dick watched through half-closed eyes as the man stood in the doorway, an annoyed, yet somewhat sad expression on his face, almost like he wasn’t seeing Dick but someone else.

“Don’t do that. Don’t thank me.”

The door closed with a small clang and Dick found himself drifting out of consciousness. 

“He’s a fucking traitor, Gar!”

Gar rolled his eyes, watching as Jason paced around the living room. He’d been at it for a while now, ranting on and on about shit Gar couldn’t even bring himself to care about. 

“Jason, knock it the fuck off, I’m not telling you again!”

Gar was just glad that at least Hawk was somewhat on his side. He doubted that he truly believed Dick hadn’t gone against the Titans and joined Deathstroke like Gar did, but at least he was annoyed with Jason enough to tell him off.

“You’re all just going to let him get away with this?”

“With what?” Gar finally said, standing to his feet, his eyes narrowed at Jason. “There’s no way Dick did it willingly! There’s no way!”

“You just can’t admit for one second that he isn’t perfect, can you?”

“Kid, I swear to God-”

“Stop it!” Kory shouted. “All of you! Enough!”

Gar looked up to see Kory, Donna, and Dawn standing in the doorway, still in their training gear and each with their own stern expressions on their faces. Their presence alone seemed to make Hank and Jason back off, which was something at least.

“Fighting with each other isn’t helping anyone, least of all Dick,” Donna said, her eyes darting to Jason’s at the face he made when she said Dick’s name. 

“Are we sure Dick…”

Raven’s voice was hesitant and she didn’t sound very certain of her words. Gar appreciated that, at least. That she was willing to give Dick the benefit of the doubt, unlike Jason. He’d take devil’s advocate over guilty until proven innocent any day.

“This is just like last time,” Donna said, her voice low. “How the hell didn’t we see this coming?”

“What happened last time?”

“I’m… going to need something stronger than this,” Donna gestured to the bottle of water she was holding before placing it on the kitchen counter. “Before I even begin to crack that one open.”

“You guys always do this shit!” Jason said, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. “We’re not fucking kids so stop keeping shit from us!”

“Okay, first of all, you are kids,” Dawn said, her arms crossed against her chest. “Second off, we planned to tell you, we really did, but… Dick and I agreed that this was his story to tell, not ours. He wanted to wait until we got you back home but obviously he never had a chance.”

Donna sighed as she sat down at the kitchen island, her face in her hands for a moment. “This wasn’t supposed to happen. We were supposed to be done with this shit.”

“You have to tell us,” Rachel said carefully. “I know you wanted to wait for Dick to, but… if he’s really in trouble, we need to know everything.”

“She’s right,” Kory said. “Dick needs us.”

“He doesn’t, though! I saw him! I saw him shake Deathstroke’s fucking hand as I was out on that damn ledge!”

“Jason,” Donna gave the boy a look. It wasn’t as stern or angry as her earlier ones had been. This one looked… sadder. Like she had lost the drive to keep yelling at Jason. Gar couldn’t blame her.

“I can’t believe you’re falling for this bullshit-”

“Four years ago Deathstoke kidnapped Dick.”

Jason’s words died on his tongue as he looked at Dawn in shock.

“What?”

“Goddamnit,” Hank swore, pulling a bottle of whisky down from a high shelf. Dawn removed it from his hands swiftly, setting it aside, much to his annoyment.

“He threatened our lives. That’s how he kept Dick in line. Said he wanted to train him to be his apprentice. He had him for nearly five months before we were able to get the upper hand, but by then…”

“He killed Garth,” Hank put a hand on Dawn’s shoulder as the woman struggled to continue. “Shot him right in front of Donna. All because Dick refused to kill someone for him.”

“When we got him back…” Donna squeezed her eyes closed. “It took time for Dick to come back to us. For him to recover. What Slade Wilson did to him… it’s unforgivable. It’s something not many would have come back from.”

“So, no,” she said, her eyes watching Jason carefully. “I highly fucking doubt Dick went with him willingly. That’s probably what Slade wanted us to think. So that we’d turn our backs on Dick. But we’ve learned our lesson from last time. I’m not leaving him with that monster. I… I barely got him back last time. I’m not losing him again.”

Gar felt… numb. That was the best word he could use to describe it all. He never for a second thought Dick had betrayed him, but this? He certainly didn’t see this coming either.

“I’m sorry,” Jason finally said. To his credit, he sounded like he meant it. “I… I didn’t know.”

“Dick really didn’t want you to, either,” Dawn said. “We had a talk about it, before we left to go find you. I told him he couldn’t keep this from you guys anymore. I pushed him to-”

“Hey,” Hawk interrupted. “You didn’t do anything wrong, Dawn.”

“Dick knows what he’s capable of. He knew what would happen. He was protecting us in the only way he knows how.”

“Throwing himself into danger?” Kory mused.

Donna chuckled. “Yeah. Typical Boy Wonder.”

“We have to find him,” Rachel looked panicked now that she knew the truth. “We can’t just-”

“We’ll find him, Rach,” Gar said as he brought her into a hug. She quickly accepted and Gar held her for some time. “We’ll find him.”

“Where do we start?” Jason asked.

Before anyone could respond, an emergency alert sounded throughout the tower. Donna checked her phone, her face growing pale.

“Someone’s breaking into Cadmus Labs.”

“I’d say we start there, then.”

“Don’t even think about it.”

Dick forced himself to breathe despite the fact that Slade’s presence was looming behind him, like a terrifying shadow.

“I wasn’t.”

The mercenary made an unamused sound, the sound of his heavy boots on the roof of the building echoing in Dick’s ears as he moved to stand in front of Dick. Dick supposed his mask should terrify him. Should elicit fear of some sort. But if anything, it just pissed him off.

“You fuck this up,” he hissed. “And I’ll kill the fucking Alantean.”

Dick didn’t doubt him. He couldn’t doubt him, couldn’t afford to.

His friends couldn’t afford him to.

“You know what to do. So do it.”

And with that, Dick was off, his legs pumping as he raced across the rooftop and off the ledge, jumping and using his grappling gun to swing himself over to a fire escape. He paused a beat before using one of Slade’s many gadgets to bypass the keypad on the side of the door, the lock lighting up green and allowing him to pull the door open. He half expected an alarm to sound, but the building was silent as he entered.

“Find your target, in and out. The last thing we need is the Titans showing up.”

Dick grimaced at Slade’s voice in his ear. He wasn’t sure if he hoped the Titans showed up or if they never saw him again. He couldn’t help but think it would be easier if they all just forgot about him. If they just left him to die. He wasn’t sure he could handle seeing the looks on their faces when they realized what he’d become. He couldn’t deal with their disappointment.

But he couldn’t think about all that right now. He had a job to do and he’d like to get it done sooner rather than later. 

According to the blueprints Slade had made him study, the weapon he was looking for was somewhere on this floor. It shouldn’t be too difficult of a job, especially if he was quick about it. He had five minutes until the guard’s shift change was over. Slade had told him that should be plenty of time.

Dick rounded a corner, his footsteps silent as he made his way past the security cameras, their feeds already cut. All of this felt almost too easy. He couldn’t help but wait for the other shoe to drop as he finally made it to the door, another digital keypad in his way.

“Two minutes, Apprentice.”

Dick huffed slightly but didn’t reply as he allowed the tool to do its job so that he could do his. The door unlocked and he surveyed the room quickly before entering, instantly clocking the laser alarm system in place. He had no idea what made this weapon so important that it needed to be protected this much. Slade hadn’t told him, just that a client needed it and paid handsomely for it.

It didn’t take much for Dick to contort his body around the lasers, his limbs still flexible as ever. He’d lost some weight since Slade had taken him, which certainly helped a little, though Dick would never admit it. Before long, Dick had the silver case that housed the weapon and had pulled it off the pedestal it rested on only to be met with the sound of alarms and flashing red lights.

“Shit.”

Dick’s eyes darted towards the door, watching as it began to close, presumably to lock him inside with the weapon. He couldn’t allow that to happen, though. He moved fast, almost knocking his ankle against one of the lasers, but instead it just skimmed him, slicing into his pants and leaving an angry, bleeding line against his skin. He didn’t have time to think about it, though. Luckily there was enough adrenaline rushing through him that he could barely feel the pain as he raced down the hallway, the sounds of guards becoming louder and louder.

“Stop!”

Dick knew that voice.

Oh God, he knew that voice.

“Drop it!” Wonder Girl’s voice commanded. “Now.”

Dick tensed, watching the Titans carefully as they stood in front of his way out. He wasn’t sure if they recognized him, but he didn’t want to take the chance.

“Not a word, Apprentice. Take them out.”

Dick didn’t want to fight.

He really didn’t want to fight.

It didn’t seem like he was getting a choice, though. Hank made the first move, but Dick moved out of the way, dodging the attack without even touching him. This just seemed to piss him off more, though.

“Who the hell is this guy?”

Dick blocked a hit from Dawn next, her eyes looking into his for a split second. Dick could swear he saw a hint of recognition but he pushed her away and into a wall before he could be sure.

“Goddamn Mini Deathstroke!”

Donna’s lasso looped around the arm holding the case. He never gave it a chance to go taut, switching the case to his other hand before quickly slipping out.

“Whoever he is… he’s good.”

Dick felt Garth’s arm loop around his neck, putting him into a chokehold. Dick stepped down hard on his foot and used his free hand to grab a knife from his belt, slicing a shallow gash into his arm. He released him, his hand gripping the new wound for a moment.

“Stop playing with them, Apprentice. End this.”

“No,” Dick whispered, his voice sounding much more hoarse than he intended it to.

“Take them out or I will.”

Dick’s heart hammered in his chest as he resigned himself to his fate, his hand instanting going for a knock-out bomb that he kept in a pocket on his belt. It would slow them down, give him enough time to get out. He wasn’t sure if Garth or Donna would lose consciousness, but at the very least they would stick around to help Dawn and Hawk.

He had no choice.

“I’m sorry.”

Donna’s eyes narrowed.

“Robin?”

He flinched. It was small, barely noticeable, but he knew the team saw.

“Whatever he has on you… whatever he’s doing… you don’t have to do this.”

Dick wished that were true. His finger pressed the top of the bomb and he rolled it towards the Titans as it began to emit a large cloud of smoke. He could hear them coughing and the sound of their bodies eventually falling to the ground.

“I’m sorry.”

“Dick…”

He hesitated, watching as the smoke cleared and Donna blinked up at him, her eyes threatening to close any minute. He had been right about Dawn and Hank; they were already unconscious, though Garth also wasn’t moving, his chest rising and falling far too fast.

“Not another word. You’re already in enough trouble.”

“Talk to me… Dick…”

Dick wanted to. He wanted to help Donna to her feet and explain everything. All he wanted to do was to go home.

But he couldn’t.

He could never go home. 

“Freeze!”

Dick’s head turned, watching as a guard who couldn’t be older than twenty pointed a gun at him, his hands shaking.

“Don’t move!”

“Kill him.”

“No!”

Dick couldn’t… he couldn’t kill…

“Dick… whatever… he’s saying… don’t…”

“Kill him, Apprentice. Or I will kill Aqualad.”

“I… I can’t…”

“Don’t listen… Dick…”

Dick turned fully, watching as the kid jumped a bit at his sudden movement.

“I said… I said don’t move!”

“Just… put the gun down. Please.”

“Apprentice, I will not tell you again.”

“I can’t, please-”

“Do it!”

“Kid,” Dick said, willing his voice not to shake. “Just go-”

“Apprentice-”

Dick moved fast, grabbing the kid’s arm to twist the gun out of his grip. It fell to the floor as he cried out in pain. Dick pushed the guard against the wall.

“I’m sorry.”

He smacked the guard’s head into the wall clean and fast, knocking him out. He’d wake up with a killer headache, but at least he’d wake up.

“You are in for a world of pain, Apprentice. Get back here now.”

Dick couldn’t bring himself to look at the Titans as he walked around them, his shoulders slumped as he made his way out, not at all eager to see what Slade had in store for him.

He had no idea just how terrible it would be.

Just who exactly would be the one to pay the price.

“It’s your fault, you know.”

Dick swept his bō underneath a guard’s legs, watching as he fell to the ground. 

“I don’t see how any of this is my fault.”

Rose punched the guard she’d been fighting, not seeming to care about the broken nose he was now sporting.

“I bet you tripped the alarm on purpose.”

“Now why would I do that?”

“Enough you two. Get the damn Kryptonite and get out.”

Dick knew he was going to get blamed for this. If anything, he’d rather it all fall on him than Rose. He just hoped Slade wasn’t planning on staying true to his promise. He couldn’t handle having another person die because of him.

Not again.

“I can handle these idiots, Renegade. Go.”

Dick didn’t doubt Rose could handle herself, but he had no intention of leaving her on her own. Not when he knew the Titans would be showing up any minute now.

“I’m not-”

Rose elbowed a guard in the face and Dick could swear he heard something snap. She wasn’t landing any lethal hits, which Dick supposed he had to be glad about. It seemed like a pretty pathetic thing to celebrate, though.

“Dick!”

It seemed like he was out of time.

“Look who decided to show,” Rose smirked, her eyes staring daggers into Jason. 

“Dick, look at me.”

Dick couldn’t do it.

Not again.

“Renegade, don’t you dare.”

“Just go,” he said, not missing the pain in Rachel’s eyes. The tension in Gar’s shoulders. “Get out of here.”

“You know we can’t do that,” Kory said.

“Hey,” Rose pulled roughly on Dick’s arm. “I’m not here for your caring and sharing bullshit, okay? We have a job to do. Are you really going to let these guys stand in the way?”

“Rose-”

Rose raised her finger at Jason, silencing him. Dick couldn’t see her eyes behind her mask, but her face was still pointed towards him.

“You know what he’ll do. Are you willing to risk it?”

She was right. He wasn’t willing to. He couldn’t.

“I’ve had enough of this,” Jason scoffed, pulling a birdarang out. “I should’ve known you were bad news.”

“Hmm,” Rose smiled under her mask. “Funny. I was thinking the same about you.”

Jason threw the birdarang. It all happened in slow motion, from Dick’s point of view. He’d aimed a little too high and Dick could see it was going to hit her potentially in the head instead of a safe location, like the shoulder. She would probably be fine, especially with her helmet, but Dick wasn’t seeing Rose at that moment.

He was seeing Jericho.

He moved, almost as if his body was on autopilot, and put himself in front of Rose, the birdarang hitting him instead. It lodged itself in his neck and his eyes widened behind his mask at the sharp, burning pain that overtook him.

“Dick!”

His hands went to his neck instantly, wrapping around the birdarang as he struggled to keep it in. He could feel his gloves becoming heavy with blood and his vision was starting to blacken around the edges.

“Goddamn it, no!’”

“Go!” Rose yelled, rage causing her body to shake. “Get the fuck away from him!”

“Dick-”

“Ravager, extraction now. Do not make me come in there.”

“Rose, you don’t have to-”

“You’ll only make it worse,” her voice hissed as she began to support Dick’s weight against her body. “So just go.”

Dick couldn’t focus on the fact that the faces of his friends were filled with concern and becoming blurry. He couldn’t focus on the pain in his neck or the arms around his torso. The only thing he could think of was which of the Titans Slade would kill for this fuck up. If it would be one of the kids.

“No…”

“Shut up,” Rose said in his ear, though her voice sounded as if it were underwater. “Stop talking.”

His eyes closed and he couldn’t find the energy to open them again.

It should have been him.

Slade thought it. Dick knew it.

It should have been him.

Dick wrapped his arms around himself and replayed the memory over and over again in his mind, as if that would change anything.

He’d been so mad after Garth died. Mad at Slade, mad at himself, mad at everything. He shouldn’t have done it. He shouldn’t have tried to escape. He should have known what would happen. Hell, he knew exactly what would happen, but he hadn’t cared about the consequences. He didn’t care what happened to him.

But it didn’t happen to him. Did it?

It wouldn’t have been deadly if the sword had struck him where Slade intended it to. It would have hurt like hell and he would have been in agony for a few weeks, but he would have lived.

But Jericho hadn’t been as lucky. He’d been at a completely different angle than Dick when he jumped in front of Slade’s sword. 

Dick could still hear his own screams echoing in his head, like a terrible record that wouldn’t stop skipping. 

He could still see Jericho’s wide eyes, forever open, his blood pooling around his limp body. How it stuck to his legs as he knelt on the floor. How despite the fact that the fabric was black, he could still somehow see the crimson stains on his knees. 

How he could smell it. Taste it on his tongue. Feel it in his bones. As if it had been him who had shed the blood. 

It was his fault.

All his fault.

If he’d just listened, if he’d just obeyed…

Jericho would still be alive.

He killed Jericho.

He may not have drawn the sword.

He may not have swung it.

But he killed him.

For the first time since Slade had taken him, Dick cried.

He didn’t care if Slade saw or heard. He couldn’t bring himself to care anymore.

Dick knew then and there that he would have no choice but to listen to Slade now. He couldn’t let anyone else die. He couldn’t have any more blood on his hands.

So when Slade came for him the next morning, he accepted his fate, his verdict, his punishment.

And he knew he deserved every second of it.

“Do you really think he would have the same base? After all these years?”

Donna’s face was tight as she stared at the road ahead, like she was willing herself not to crumble. With Dick gone she had become the unofficial leader and she was taking her responsibility very seriously it seemed. In Gar’s opinion, she was great at it, but he could see the toll it was taking on her.

“Slade’s predictable. He’s cocky. He thinks he can beat us so he isn’t afraid for us to find him.”

“But you beat him before,” Rachel said softly. “Right?”

“Sort of,” Hank admitted. “It was more like…”

“Like an extraction,” Dawn finished. “We went in when we knew he was gone.”

“It was four against one, you could have taken him,” Jason scoffed.

Donna gave him a stern look, her hands gripping the steering wheel tighter.

“You of all people should know not to underestimate him, Jason.”

In his defense, he did look a bit guilty, which was something at least. 

“We have numbers this time,” Donna continued. “But we don’t have the element of surprise. Slade has to know we’re coming, there’s no way he doesn’t. He has Rose too, and Dick is most likely in critical condition.”

Jason looked even more guilty. Gar wanted to try and offer some form of support, but he knew Jason wouldn’t accept it. He couldn’t say he blamed him, he supposed. If it had been Gar who had accidentally hurt Dick, he would probably feel the same way.

“We’ll kick his ass,” Kory said. “And we’ll get Dick back.”

“Look,” Dawn said, turning in her seat to face Gar, Jason, and Rachel. “I need you guys to be prepared for whatever state we might find Dick in.”

“Dawn-”

“No, hey, I know you guys can handle these things, but the fact is, you’re still kids and this is Dick we’re talking about. I don’t… I don’t want you to-”

“Dawn,” Rachel placed her hand on Dawn’s shoulder. “It’s okay. We understand.”

Donna parked the car, her face still unreadable as she stared at the warehouse in front of them.

“This won’t be like last time.”

Gar wasn’t sure what that meant.

He wasn’t sure he wanted to.

“Idiot!”

Dick didn’t make a sound as he landed on the concrete flooring, next to the shards of glass, one of his bones definitely cracking slightly at the impact. Slade threw a hell of a punch when he wanted to. 

“Damn  fool. I taught you better than this.”

There was a kick to Dick’s side and yet he still stayed silent, his body rolling across the floor before he could catch himself. He wanted to wrap his arms around his stomach to protect it but he couldn’t bring himself to move his limbs. It was almost as if his mind had no control of his body any longer. 

He supposed that would make sense. It wasn’t like he’d had control of his body for a few months now. It belonged to Slade Wilson now and he was able to use it for whatever he pleased. Dick didn’t choose anything for himself anymore. He didn’t choose his clothes, when he ate, when he slept, if he even got to eat or sleep…

No, Dick wasn’t in control of anything anymore, least of all his own body. Hell, he didn’t even have his team anymore. 

He didn’t even have Jericho…

He had nothing but Slade.

That’s all he’d ever have.

Dick felt Slade grab him by his wrists, pulling him back over to the shattered vial Dick had dropped. He couldn’t remember if he’d done it on purpose or not. He supposed that didn’t matter now, as Slade forced his hands over the broken glass, the skin of Dick’s palms breaking open and bleeding. Slade left his hands pressed into the glass as he studied him with a cruel look in his eye.

“Get up.”

Dick tried to move his hands away and use his arms to push himself up, but they shook so badly that he fell right back down on his probably broken nose, right into the glass. Slade scoffed from above him.

“You’re useless, apprentice. I can’t believe I thought for even a second that you could be a worthy successor.”

Dick felt Slade’s hand grab onto his hair, forcing him to his knees. His vision was foggy as he stared at Slade’s legs, his body swaying slightly despite the fact that Slade still had a firm grip on him.

“What did the Bat ever see in you?”

Dick honestly didn’t think he could ever answer that question. 

Slade tossed Dick aside as if he were nothing but a bag of trash.

Dick couldn’t help but think that maybe he was.

“Get up and train. Now.”

Dick’s hands found the wall and he used it to push himself up, the room spinning slightly. He blinked, forcing himself to move. If he didn’t move it would only hurt more later on.

“I’m going out. I trust you can follow a simple-”

Slade slapped Dick in the face.

“Fucking-”

He brought his knee up, catching Dick right in the chin.

“Order!”

Dick swallowed the blood in his mouth. If he spit it out, he’d just get punished.

“Can you?”

Dick nodded. Slade knocked him against his head with the heel of his palm.

“I didn’t cut out your tongue, boy. Use it.”

“Yes, Master.”

Slade used two fingers to lift Dick’s head, so that his eyes met Slade’s. Dick wasn’t sure what he was looking for, or if he was even looking for anything at all.

“Be good.”

His fingers retracted and allowed Dick’s chin to hit his chest, his eyes downcast as he listened to Slade leaving, the door locking tightly behind him. Dick gave himself a few seconds as a grace period before pushing himself to his feet, forcing his body to move towards the training area. Dick tried to figure out which training method would hurt his hands the least, but for some reason he couldn’t force his mind to focus on the task. He found himself simply staring at the punching bag, which was a terrible choice.

Why couldn’t he move?

He had to move.

There was something at the door. It was probably Slade coming back. Maybe he forgot something, though Dick knew he’d never forgotten a single thing his entire life.

Dick punched the bag. It swayed slightly, but not as much as it usually did. HIs hands ached in protest.

Something was definitely at the door. Someone was coming in.

Slade was back already. Dick must have lost track of time.

He punched the bag again. His fist cracked, more blood uncomfortably sticking his fingers together.

“-in here.”

That was a woman’s voice. Was Slade bringing someone home?

He’d never done that before.

“Oh my God.”

Dick could swear that the man's voice was familiar, but it wasn’t Slade’s. Then whose was it?

“Dick! Hey!”

Slade never called him that. Only Apprentice. Or boy. Kid. Fool. Worthless. Idiot. Disappointment. Failure.

There were hands on his shoulders, thin ones that couldn’t belong to Slade.

“Dick. It’s Donna. Look at me, please.”

Dick turned his head.

Donna looked at him, tears in her eyes. Dick didn’t know why she was crying.

“It’s Donna. We’re going home.”

Dick was pretty sure he was already home, though. This is where he belonged. This is where he deserved to be.

Someone was wrapping something around his shoulders. Something that felt vaguely familiar.

“Dick?”

He was being led away from the training center, but that made no sense. Slade had ordered him to train, so he had to train. If he didn't, Slade would know. He’d given him one, simple order and he couldn’t even follow it.

A failure.

“Dick, please.”

His bare feet were unsteady. He almost lost his balance a few times, but bodies on either side of him were always there to catch him. He couldn’t understand why.

“We’re going home.”

Home.

What a novel concept.

“Home?” Dick asked. 

“Yeah,” said a voice, her words the softest ones he’d heard in a long time. “Home.”

“Dad-”

“Don’t.”

Rose couldn't stop staring at Dick, at the bandage wrapped around his neck, his eyes darting back and forth between father and daughter.

“Go to your room. Now.”

Rose wanted to laugh at how cliche it sounded coming out of her father’s mouth. She wanted to tell him to fuck off, that it was really his fault that Dick was even hurt. Yet no matter how true that seemed, she couldn’t help the guilt that overcame her as she slowly made her way down the hallway.

Maybe if she listened the first time he’d go easier on him.

Maybe.

“What the hell were you thinking?”

Dick said nothing. He wasn’t sure he could, even if he wanted to. His throat burned. Slade hadn’t given him any painkillers.

“You jeopardized this entire mission.”

Slade was pacing, his footsteps like thunder in Dick’s ears.

“You just don’t learn, do you kid? You’re not a hero anymore, so quit trying to play one.”

Slade was closer now. Dick could feel his presence looming over him. He blinked his eyes open and looked up, Slade’s face terrifyingly calm as he held a knife in his hand.

“I guess I just have to show you, huh? If this doesn’t teach you, I don’t know what will.”

Slade grabbed Dick by the hair and pulled him up, quickly using his arm to pin Dick to the wall by his chest. The knife reflected in the overhead lights as it trailed lightly down Dick’s cheek.

“One big, happy, matching family.”

“No…”

Dick’s voice was barely audible, but he knew Slade heard. 

He always did.

“Remember,” Slade positioned the knife directly over Dick’s right eye, smirking slightly at the fear he saw within it. “This is your doing. Because you couldn’t listen. Better this than another dead kid, though. Right?”

Dick had to agree with him on that one. But that didn’t stop the slight struggle he managed, his body far too weak to push Slade away.

The knife dug in with no warning. Dick thought he might have screamed. He’s sure he did, but he couldn’t remember. All he could remember was blinding, white hot pain. The worst agony he could ever imagine. Then darkness. The coolness of the floor against his cheek. Something sticky and warm starting to dry and cool on his face. 

Pain.

That’s all he felt.

There was screaming in the hallway. Something was going on, but Dick couldn’t bring himself to care. 

He should get up. He should fight.

But he was so tired.

The door opened and he tensed. It was probably Slade coming to get him, to tell him he needed to fight.

He didn’t want to fight.

“Dick?”

That was his name. He was sure of it, but it didn’t sound like it belonged to him. Maybe to someone else.

“Oh, God…”

There was a hand on his shoulder, preparing to flip him onto his back. He allowed it to happen. He didn’t have the strength within him to resist.

“Holy, shit, Dick-”

“Kory! Go get Rachel, now!”

Dick closed his eye. He only had the one now, he supposed. Someone brushed their hand through his hair. It felt good, like a distant memory he wanted desperately to hang on to.

“Dya?”

It hurt to talk. He closed his mouth, his lips suddenly feeling dry.

“Dick, it’s okay, I’ve got you.”

Someone was running towards him. There was a sob and she sounded so young. She shouldn’t have to see this.

“Dick!”

More hands. It was overwhelming but Dick stayed still. 

“Rachel… Can you?”

Something was pulling at him. Something that felt dark yet… warm. Welcoming. It hurt a bit, though. He groaned softly, his face shifting away from the energy.

“It’s not working! Why isn’t it working?”

Dick wished he knew the answer.

“We have to get him out of here-”

“Dick!”

A new voice. 

“Get away! You’ve done enough!”

“Please-”

He knew that voice. His hand reached out towards it.  He had to make sure they were safe. That’s his job. He has to do his job.

“Dick…”

He opened his eyes. He made a small motion with his hand, his fingers uncoordinated, yet still he tried. Someone made a similar motion. He blinked.

“Jericho?”

The figure stilled, their long, gray hair swaying slightly. 

“You’ve done enough, Rose.”

The figure was gone. Dick suddenly felt dizzy as more hands began to touch him, lifting him off the ground. His body ached in protest. Everything hurt. Why did everything hurt?

“Is it taken care of?”

He was moving now. His hands dug into fabric. It wasn’t as soft as he had hoped it to be.

“For now. But he’ll be back. He always is.”

Dick’s eyelid was beginning to droop. He only had  a few moments left before he lost consciousness.

“Then we’ll be ready.”

Dick finally succumbed to the darkness. It didn’t matter anymore.

He didn’t care anymore.

It didn’t matter.

He didn’t care.

Donna wasn’t stupid enough to think that everything would be fine.

She couldn’t afford to be that stupid.

Dick was healing nicely, but he hadn’t spoken since they’d brought him home. At least not when she, Dawn, or Hank were around.

She’d wanted to call Bruce, but Dick hadn’t let her. She wasn’t surprised. Last she heard they were in the middle of one of their huge fights, though if it were her and Diana fighting, she would have prioritized telling the woman about being tortured for five months over having the last word.

But Dick had a right to dictate how all this went. It was the least she could do. 

He was in the kitchen when she got home, a few bags of groceries weighing her down a bit as she deposited them on the kitchen island, Dick watching her warily the entire time, his hands wrapped around a glass of water. There was an uneaten sandwich in front of him, probably made by Dawn a few hours ago. 

“Hey, Dick.”

She hadn’t expected a reply and she didn’t get one either.

“I got that cereal you like.”

Dick’s blinked at her. 

“You should really eat something.”

Dick rolled his eyes. Donn had been expecting this. He stood up, the glass in his hand slipping between his fingers, almost in slow motion. It crashed to the ground, shattering and splashing water everywhere.

“Shit-”

“I’m sorry!”

Donna froze, turning to see Dick’s terrified face, his hands shaking as he stared at the broken glass.

“Dick, it was an accident-”

“I’m sorry!”

“What’s wrong?”

Donna gave Hank and Dawn a look, trying desperately to communicate that they had to tread lightly, though Hank didn’t seem to get the memo.

“Whoa, what happened here?”

“I’m sorry!”

“Dick, it’s okay,” Dawn’s voice was soft, her movements obvious and slow so she didn’t freak him out anymore than he already was.

“Dick, you okay?”

Donna could tell it was becoming too overwhelming for him. So when he ran out of the kitchen, she let him. She didn’t try to grab him or chase after him, because that wouldn’t help anyone.

Least of all him.

About an hour later she knocked on his bedroom door. She didn’t get a response, so she gave it five minutes before entering on her own. The room was exactly as it had been before Dick left. It didn’t even look like he’d been sleeping in the bed. There was a soft, scrapping noise coming from the closet. It was almost so faint Donna hardly heard it. 

She took a deep breath and opened the closet door to find Dick, his knees drawn up to his chest, his head buried in his arms. There was a blanket bunched up in the corner as well as the stuffed elephant Donna knew he kept hidden in his nightstand drawer, like he was afraid they’d make fun of him or something.

“Dick?”

His head moved, his eyes peering up at her. Brown. Wide. Watery.

“Have you been sleeping in here?”

Dick shrugged. Donna knew that meant yes.

“You can talk to me, Dick. You know that, right?”

Another shrug. Donna sighed and climbed into the closet to sit next to Dick. He tensed a bit, but didn’t protest her presence.

“Dick. Please. We tell each other everything.”

“Not this time.”

Donna didn’t know what to say to that. But maybe he didn’t need a response. Maybe it was better if they just sat in silence. Maybe that’s what he needed at that moment.

Dick’s head rested on Donna’s shoulder. It was hesitant. Tense. Almost as if Dick expected her to push him away. 

She wrapped an arm around his shoulders instead.

Dick Grayson had scars and Garfield Logan was no longer curious about every single one of them. 

He no longer cared about how he’d gotten them, because now he knew. And knowing was so much worse.

Dick’s eyes were closed as he laid in the hospital bed in the Tower’s small medical unit. He wasn’t wearing a shirt and Gar could see the four year old brand directly over his heart, the logo a faded white from age. He could see the cuts and bruises that littered every piece of available skin. He could see the bandage wrapped around his neck. He could see the gauze taped over his right eye, slightly red from blood.

Gar wasn’t curious anymore.

If anything, he wished he never had to know.

“He’s going to be okay.”

Gar turned to see Kory standing in the doorway, her arms crossed against her chest. She looked so at ease, the complete opposite of what Gar was feeling.

“I know.”

Kory walked over to him and put her hands on his shoulders. He couldn’t stop staring at Dick. Like he would disappear if he blinked.

“Gar, you need to get some sleep-”

Dick’s heart monitors started to beep a bit faster. He was moving slightly, his fists gripping the blanket laid on top of him. He was moving his head to the side, his one eye blinking open slowly.

“Dick?”

He took a deep breath, his eyebrow furrowed as he looked over at all the machines and IV’s he was hooked up to.

“Kory…”

His voice was still pretty rough. It sounded nothing like him, which scared Gar. He watched as Kory filled a plastic cup with water and used the remote on the side of the bed to move Dick into a sitting-up position. She brought the cup to his lips and he drank gratefully.

“Kory-”

“Dick, you shouldn’t be talking yet, your neck-”

“My eye…”

Gar suddenly wanted to be in any room but the one he was currently in.

“Oh, Dick… Rachel… she tried…”

Gar wasn’t sure he’d ever seen Kory be at a loss for words. He wasn’t sure what was worse: that or the devastating look on Dick’s face as he realized his eye was gone for good.

“Call Bruce… please…”

Gar took that as his opportunity to escape. To find Jason, to tell him to make the call. It gave him something to do. Anything was better than seeing Dick like that.

“Jason?”

The teen looked up from his phone, his eyes portraying something unreadable. Perhaps… concern?

“Is he awake?”

Gar rubbed the back of his neck. “He wants… he wants you to call Bruce.”

“Then it’s bad.”

Gar had thought that could go unsaid. He’d obviously been wrong.

“I can’t do this-”

“Hey.”

Gar stopped. Jason was looking at him. Really looking at him. In a way Gar wasn’t sure he’d ever done before.

“He’ll be okay. He always is.”

“What if this time… what if he doesn’t…”

“He’ll be okay.”

Gar wished he could believe Jason. 

He wished he didn’t know where the scars came from.

He wished he’d never fucking asked.