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Kory knew she had a lot of things to learn about Earth and so many new things to experience about it too, but now there was something she wanted to try the most.
Something that had suddenly rocketed to the top of her mental list titled OMG I HAVE TO TRY THAT!!
“Please!! Teach me how to ice skate!!” Kory said, grabbing the arm of a very taken aback mercenary.
It all started a couple of months back.
A new “hero” had appeared in the Jump City landscape. They didn’t talk. They didn’t have a name. They always wore a mask, had an androgynous build, and moved through crowds like a ghost. They’d jump in to help, then disappear before anyone could get a word in.
Their skills were varied and seemingly random. The only thing the Titans knew was that, for now, they were allies.
After several failed attempts at small talk before the vigilante vanished again, the “ally” situation slowly turned into a very one sided friendship from the Titans’ end. The individual remained unreadable as ever, but they did allow Gar the honor of giving them a name.
Gar, being Gar, named their new “friend” The Shadow Ghost Mercenary, like they were a stray cat he planned to adopt.
It was dumb, edgy, and a bit dramatic. The ghost just tilted their head and nodded in acceptance, so the name stuck. No one actually used the full title, well maybe except Gar and Wally when they wanted to be dramatic.
Most of them shortened it to “Merc,” “Ghost,” or “S.G.” Their new ally didn’t seem to mind, but it really was hard to tell.
That was not the point.
The Titans were called in for an emergency when an ice monster froze over nearly half of Jump City. Fighting on the slick terrain was a nightmare, right up until Merc appeared. They glided across the ice like they’d been born on it, effortlessly dodging and striking the monster holding it back long enough for the Titans to finish the job.
Kory tapped Dick’s shoulder and leaned in. “Hey… What was that?”
Dick frowned, brushing snow off his escrima stick. “What, Kor? The monster?”
“No, no, no. What Merc did!!” She pointed toward the subject of the conversation. Merc was nodding along to Wally’s rambling story. Whether they were actually following it was anyone’s guess.
Dick hummed. “Oh. Ice skating?”
Kory’s eyes lit up. “Yes!! That looks so fun!! Do you think they would teach me?”
Dick rubbed the back of his neck. “I don’t know, Kor… We still don’t know where we stand with-”
She didn’t wait for him to finish.
Kory was already halfway across the ice, boots crunching awkwardly with every step, arms out for balance like gravity had personally betrayed her. The cold didn’t bother her much, but the slippery betrayal of the ground absolutely did.
“Merc!” she called, waving enthusiastically.
The mercenary froze.
Mid conversation with Wally, one foot still angled as if ready to push off, they slowly turned their masked face toward her.
Donna leaned against Dick’s side. “Place your bets. Do they vanish or emotionally short circuit?”
Dick pinched the bridge of his nose. “Please vanish. Please vanish.”
Merc did not have enough time to vanish.
Kory grinned and grabbed their arm before they could flee. “I saw how you moved across the ice! It was beautiful and efficient and extremely impressive. I wish to learn.”
They stared at her.
“Please!! Teach me how to ice skate!!” Kory repeated, squeezing their arm. She even used the magic word.
The Titans expected a lot of things.
They did not expect Merc to laugh.
It was subtle, just a small shake of their shoulders, but it was enough to make everyone except Kory freeze in place.
Then came the second, far more horrifying shock.
The ghost spoke.
“Sure.” They said, “Get a pair of skates, and tomorrow I’ll teach you.”
Gar poked Victor’s arm, eyes wide. “They… They can talk?? I just assumed they were mute…”
Kory squealed and immediately lunged forward, arms out, ready to hug them.
Merc sidestepped with practiced ease, skating backward out of reach.
“I have a fragile heart.” They said lightly. “Don’t go surprise hugging me.”
They gave a mock salute as they turned away, already gliding off. “Ice rink. Tomorrow. Six p.m. Don’t be late.”
Kory waved enthusiastically. “I will be punctual!!”
Dick watched the mercenary disappear into the distance, unease settling in his gut. He hummed, frowning.
“I have a weird feeling about this…”
Donna smirked. “You always do.”
Dick didn’t look away from the ice. “Yeah. But this one feels… earned.”
-----------------
Jump City’s ice rink was surprisingly empty.
“Damn.” Victor muttered, scanning the silent stands. “This place really is a ghost town…”
The Titans had decided to tag along so Kory wouldn’t be alone with Merc. They liked the mercenary well enough to consider them a friend. Whether the feeling went both ways was still very much unclear.
Merc was already there, leaning casually against the rink’s rail like they’d been waiting the whole time.
“Most people don’t skate this time of year.” They said, tilting their head slightly. “So… is everyone getting on the ice, or is it just the princess?”
Kory beamed. “Just me!! I even got my skates!!”
Merc glanced toward the benches. “Alright. Let’s sit. I’ll show you how to put them on.”
Kory happily plopped down. Merc knelt in front of her, picking up one skate with practiced familiarity.
“Watch closely.” They said. “I’m not helping with the second one.”
They set the skate down, guiding Kory’s foot into it. “Press your foot in firmly. You want it snug, not painful.”
Their hands moved easily, threading the laces with quiet efficiency. They hummed softly as they worked, tightening section by section.
“Tell me if it’s too tight.”
Kory watched intently, nodding along like this was sacred knowledge. “It feels… supportive.”
“Good,” Merc said. “That’s the goal. If your ankles hate you later, we did it wrong.”
Behind them, the Titans stood in an awkward little cluster, collectively unsure what to do with themselves.
Wally blinked slowly. “I didn’t even know there was more than one way to tie a skate…”
Dick crossed his arms. “Why do they look… competent?”
Donna smirked. “Because they are. And that should worry you.”
Merc finished tying the knot twice and gave it a small, testing tug. “One down.” They said, standing. “Your turn. Don’t embarrass me.”
Kory carefully copied their movements while they watched in silence. Halfway through, they reached out and stopped her.
“Pause. Your laces need to be the same length once they’re tightened,” Merc said. “If they’re uneven, they won’t tie right. Also, tripping hazard. Try again.”
Kory frowned in concentration and redid it. “Is this right?”
Merc crossed their arms. “Don’t ask me. How does it feel? Loose or too tight?”
Kory hummed, flexing her ankle. “I feel it… Okay?”
“Atta girl. If you sprain an ankle, I’m not carrying you back.” Merc said, dropping onto the bench and slipping into their own skates with effortless speed. “I have a heart condition.”
Kory stood up immediately and wobbled.
Merc caught her by the elbow without even looking, steadying her. “Walking in skates is a scam.” They said. “You’ll get used to it.”
They guided her forward. “Now let’s actually get on the ice before you psych yourself out.”
-----------------
“Let’s start simple.” Merc said, standing on the ice like this was their second home, “Bend your knees.”
Kory immediately bent them. All the way.
She dropped into a full squat.
There was a half second of silence before she tipped sideways like a fallen statue.
Merc caught her.
One arm hooked around her waist, the other steadying her shoulder, skates carving a clean arc in the ice as they absorbed her weight without slipping an inch.
Kory blinked up at them. “Was that too much?”
“You think?” Merc muttered, already setting her upright again. They did not let go right away.
From the sidelines, Gar squinted. “Did they just glide while holding her?”
“Shut up.” Dick whispered. “I’m observing.”
“Okay… How about something easier.” Merc continued, hands hovering now, like a parent watching a baby give their first steps. “Keep your feet parallel.”
Kory looked down. Concentrated.
Her feet immediately pointed in opposite directions.
She pushed off.
She rocketed forward exactly three feet before her legs tried to separate.
Merc caught her again.
This time with both arms, spinning them gently so her momentum bled out instead of slamming into the ice. They ended up chest to chest, skates slowing naturally.
Kory gasped. “Merc! You are very fast!”
“And you’re very… enthusiastic.” Merc replied.
Their voice was calm. Their grip was careful. Their thumb absentmindedly adjusted her balance like they’d done this a thousand times before.
Donna’s eyes narrowed. “They’re not even gripping her tightly.”
Victor leaned closer. “That’s control. That’s scary control.”
“Let’s go even simpler.” Merc said, stepping back reluctantly. “Don’t look at your feet.”
Kory nodded seriously.
Then immediately craned her neck straight down.
She wobbled.
Merc caught her. Again.
This time they didn’t even look surprised. They just sighed softly, like this was their life now.
“Kory.” Dick finally called. “Maybe listen to the spirit of the instructions?”
“But I am listening!” Kory protested. “They just have too many basics!!”
Merc snorted.
Actually snorted.
Everyone froze.
Wally’s jaw dropped. “Did… did S.G. just make a noise?”
Merc cleared their throat, clearly offended by their own slip. “You’re doing fine. It’s never the students fault. Let me think.”
Merc skates backward thinking slightly. They snap their fingers and do a full stop. “Okay.” They said. “Maybe we started wrong. Let’s start from the actual beginning before I have a heart attack.”
They gently guided Kory toward the boards, hands light but firm, making sure her skates didn’t cross. Once she was steady, they crouched down in front of her so they were eye level.
“How to fall.” They continued.
Kory frowned. “But I am trying very hard not to.”
“I know.” They said, “That’s the problem.”
She blinked.
Merc gestured to the ice. “Don’t look at me like that. You need to learn how to fall safely and how to get up correctly. Otherwise you’ll hurt yourself. Or someone else.”
Their tone shifted. Not sharp. Just… precise.
“There’s no one else on the rink right now.” They added. “But if there were, you would’ve hurt someone already.”
The Titans went quiet.
Gar tilted his head. “They’re not being mean.”
“They’re being responsible.” Donna murmured. “That’s worse.”
Kory straightened, suddenly serious. “I do not wish to cause harm.”
“I know.” Merc said immediately. “That’s why we’re fixing it.”
They demonstrated, lowering themselves onto the ice smoothly. One knee, then the other. Hands tucked in, chin up.
“Never fall backward.” They said, “You hit your head, you’re done. Always aim sideways or forward. Protect your wrists. Keep your elbows bent.”
They stood back up in one clean motion.
Kory watched like she was being shown sacred knowledge.
“Now you.”
She nodded, determination blazing.
She copied them exactly.
Too exactly.
Kory dropped to both knees at once, hands tucked in so perfectly that she forgot about gravity entirely and pitched forward.
Merc caught her.
Again.
This time, though, they let her weight settle just enough to guide her down properly, one hand braced at her shoulder, the other at her side, controlling the descent until she was sitting on the ice instead of kissing it.
“There.” Merc said softly. “That’s falling.”
Kory looked down at herself, then up at them, delighted. “I did it!”
“You did.” Merc agreed.
They offered a hand, fingers spread so she could grab wherever she felt safest. When she stood, they stayed close, not touching unless needed.
From the sidelines, Dick swallowed.
“They’re teaching her like she’s… fragile,” he said.
Wally shook his head. “No. Like she’s powerful.”
Merc adjusted Kory’s posture again, careful, patient, utterly focused.
“Again.” They said, “Until your body remembers. Then you can stop trusting me to catch you.”
Kory smiled, warm and fearless. “But I like that you do.”
Merc hums poking Kory’s forehead. “It’s safer for us both.”
Gar sighed “Now I am jealous. I also want to ice skate.”
Donna snorted. “They are just falling, Gar.”
“Still!!” Gar protested. “It looks fun!!”
After a few minutes of fall practice, Merc hummed, low and thoughtful, eyes following the way Kory’s weight shifted on the blades.
“Okay.” They said, “I’m giving you a bad habit.”
Kory stiffened. “But I am following all the basics… Did I do something wrong??”
“No,” Merc replied calmly. “I am teaching wrong. That’s why we’re stopping.”
They stepped back. Just one pace. Enough to make the space noticeable.
“Don’t grab anyone while falling.” Merc continued evenly. “You’ll bring them down with you.”
Kory’s eyes flicked to their hands. “Even you?”
“Especially me.” They said, “I’m doing it because I have better equilibrium. Most people don’t.”
Merc kept going. “Also don’t grab the railings. You’ll twist your arm. Or dislocate it. Break your speed and fall instead.”
Kory nodded solemnly, absorbing every word.
“Trust yourself.” Merc added. “You know how to fall now.”
They paused, then looked her directly in the eye.
“From now on, I won’t catch you.” They said, “I’ll just slow you enough for your own fall.”
Kory’s smile wavered for half a second.
Then she straightened. “I trust you.”
They hummed “Ready?”
“Yeah.” Kory pushed off.
She made it three clean glides before her foot clipped wrong.
She pitched sideways.
Merc moved instantly.
Not to catch.
They skated alongside her, one hand hovering at her back, the other lightly brushing her arm, shaving off momentum like a controlled deceleration. Just enough.
Kory fell exactly like she’d been taught. Sideways. Elbows bent. Chin up.
She slid to a stop, unharmed.
For a heartbeat, no one moved.
Then Kory laughed, breathless and delighted. “I fell!”
Merc crouched in front of her. “You did.”
“You did not catch me.”She observed.
“I didn’t.” They said, “I just trusted that you knew how to fall.”
They offered their hand again. This time, they didn’t pull. They let her rise on her own, steadying only when her balance wavered.
Donna whistled. “Okay… We are having a full trust exercise…”
“They are a surprisingly good teacher…” Victor hummed.
Dick crossed his arms. “Okay but why is that kind of hot?”
No one disagreed.
Back on the ice, Kory stood taller, more confident. Merc nodded once, approval clear even behind the mask.
“Again.” They said.
And this time, when Kory wobbled, she didn’t reach for them.
Merc watched.
Kory grinned, bouncing slightly on her skates. “So now can we do jumps??”
Merc pinched the bridge of their nose and exhaled slowly.
“No.” They said flatly. “I have a fragile heart and would like to survive the lesson.”
Kory giggled. “You are very dramatic.”
“We haven’t even unlocked the dramatic chapter yet,” Merc replied. “We’re doing this instead.”
Before Kory could ask what this was, Merc stepped forward and gave her a gentle push.
Not hard. Not enough to hurt.
Enough to surprise.
Kory yelped as her balance broke, skates slipping out from under her.
Merc moved with her.
One hand caught her shoulder, the other at her back, redirecting her fall just before it became dangerous. They guided her down, controlling the speed, easing the impact until she hit the ice safely.
They hummed thoughtfully.
“Wrong fall.” They said.
Kory blinked up at them from the ice. “But I did not hit my head.”
“That’s good.” Merc replied. “But you weren’t focused.”
They helped her sit up, then let go, forcing her to steady herself.
“You’re not only falling because of ice or skill.” Merc continued. “You’ll be pushed. Pulled. Bumped. Either you find your own balance or you fall safely.”
“No jumps.” Merc added. “Not until four weeks in.”
Kory pouted. Briefly. Then she nodded, serious again. “I understand.”
She stood. This time, when they pushed her again, she adjusted mid slip, knees bending, weight shifting. She didn’t fall.
Their shoulders relaxed by a fraction.
Kory beamed at them. “Did I do it correctly?”
Merc hesitated. Then nodded. “Better.”
The praise was quiet. Earned.
Kory glided forward, careful, confident, glowing.
They followed at a distance now. Close enough to intervene. Far enough to let her stand on her own.
-----------------
Merc hummed, checking the time on the rink clock.
“Okay.” They said. “Fifteen minutes.”
Kory perked up instantly. “Fifteen minutes of what?”
“Go crazy.” Merc replied. “Enjoy the ice. Every lecture needs free time.”
They gestured vaguely at the rink. “Practice what we did. Or just skate around. I don’t want your first class to be all rules.”
Kory’s smile went soft. Grateful. Bright.
“Will you watch me?” She asked.
Merc hesitated. Just long enough to be noticeable.
“I’ll be on the sidelines.” They said, already backing away. “I’m joining the rest of your team.”
They turned, skated cleanly to the edge, and leaned against the boards with the kind of posture that said ‘off duty but never unarmed’.
Kory pushed off.
She didn’t do anything fancy. No jumps. No spins. Just smooth, careful glides, arms out, laughing when she wobbled and correcting herself before she fell.
Merc watched every second.
Didn’t step in when she stumbled. Didn’t flinch. Didn’t look away.
“Okay.” Gar leaned beside them. “You’re totally supervising.”
“Shut up.” They muttered. “Aren’t you guys still worried about me?”
Wally grinned. “After that? Dude, you are super soft. Bet you would do the same for all of us.”
“I don’t trust you people.” They shot back.
Dick folded his arms. “Liar. You gave her space. That’s trust.”
Donna nodded slowly. “That’s someone who wants her to love skating.”
On the ice, Kory caught her balance, lifted her arms, and spun clumsily once. She nearly fell, then didn’t.
She looked toward the sidelines, eyes searching.
Merc met her gaze.
They didn’t wave. Didn’t smile.
They just gave a small nod.
Approval.
Kory laughed again and skated faster, joy unfiltered, unarmored.
They stayed exactly where they were.
Watching.
Timing.
Letting her be happy without hovering.
And somehow that was the loudest proof of care yet.
Dick’s weird feeling was right.
The Titans had found that their one sided friendship wasn't one sided at all.
And that their most quiet ally cared the loudest of them all.