If anyone is wondering, I took down this original story and replaced it with only the first 8k words. Before that, it was about 28k words, and it wasn't really getting any attention. I am hoping that it's just the fact that it's so long and not because it's bad... Anyway, if people respond well I'll put the rest of in parts over time. I have no schedule for this, but know that it's all written out. It's just a matter of feeling motivated to put it out there.
Anyway, a few quick notes. This is a second part to A New Beauty, and it is pretty much a required read. It's pretty short though so it shouldn't take too long to read if you haven't. Also, the rating is K for now, might move up to K+ in the next part, but by the end of it I will definitely change it back to its original T rating.
Disclaimer: Do not own blah blah blah just read it.
The boy looked a bit odd, sitting in the back seat of the SUV. He was still dirty and unkempt, looking a bit pale, which was a contrast to the clean, shining leather interior to the car. Will had picked them up, which was the plan from the beginning. No one said anything at all. Back at the compound, after Joseph had calmed down again, Slade had signaled Will and led the boy outside for the first time in years. William did keep glancing back in the rearview mirror, but kept his questions and thoughts to himself for the time being. Will was a good friend, and Slade appreciated the man's trust in him.
It was a long drive, and Joseph was fast asleep by the time they made it back to Deathstroke's current base. Slade carried him in, and he didn't even wake up. There was already a room prepared, though it was very basic. Slade put him in bed, pulling the blankets up over his shoulders. He stopped for a few minutes, watching Joseph. He hadn't tucked his son into bed in several years; he was so different. He had to be at least seventeen… had it really been so long? Slade felt a pang of guilt for no longer remembering the exact year, but time was starting to pass differently for him. Slade pushed his hair out of his son's face. It had grown quite long. Who knew when the last time he'd had a haircut was? Or been given a chance to clean up, or even eat a meal?
Slade's heart clenched. He'd track down every single person involved in Joseph's mistreatment and kill them. Some were already dead, he knew, but a few were still alive. They had to be; who else would be punished if not them? The Justice League were a separate issue entirely, of course, but he'd find a way to get back at them eventually. How dare they lock up a child, ultimately leaving him to die? Even if Joseph had been trained as a weapon and experimented on, he was still just a boy and a human being at that, not some monster.
Slade left, feeling his anger boil up in his core. He left the room, shutting the door, and went to brief Wintergreen on the situation. Will was in the kitchen, brewing some tea and gearing for a long discussion. Slade sat at the kitchen table and both remained quiet while Will finished steeping the tea, pouring some into two mugs and bringing them both to the table. He set one in front of Slade, taking a seat and folding his hands.
"He looks like Joey."
Slade took a sip, staring into his mug. "He is."
William looked at him sharply. "Why didn't you tell me?"
"I didn't know until I saw him, and even then it was hard to believe," Slade explained.
William put his head into his hands. "I'm too old for this... How did this happen?"
Slade took the time to explain everything he knew to Will. From Joseph's regenerative ability that must have kept him alive after getting his throat slashed open, to what Slade believed had happened to him over the past decade or so. His anger showed, and he expressed his plans to hunt down anyone who'd been involved.
"Slade, you have him back," Will reminded him. "Don't lose him again by running off for revenge. He must need you the most right now."
"I know that, Will," Slade sighed. "I don't want to abandon him, but I can't allow anyone to live who's harmed my family. He was only a child…"
"His eyes…" William mused to himself. "They look exactly like Addie's, and it also looks like someone tried to cut them out."
"They might have, presumably Cadmus," said Slade. He'd thought about it for the last hour, earlier even, since he first noticed the scars. "I doubt anyone else would have wanted to leave him blind, if they wanted an assassin. His eyes must have grown back."
Will grimaced, growing a bit paler. "That poor boy…"
"We'll get him back on his feet," Slade said with determination in his eyes. "He'll be alright." He wanted Joseph to get better; he wanted his son to live without the fear in his eyes and skittish behavior, afraid of every sharp movement. Slade would be damned if he couldn't help the boy overcome his fears and mental scarring. It could take a long time, but it was the least he could do to make things right, next to killing everyone responsible. "In the morning, he can get cleaned up, have a hot meal, and we'll have more of a talk. When he's ready, days or weeks or months from now, I'll start training him."
"Slade," William warned, "don't you dare push that boy. After everything he's been through; he's been forced to train to fight and kill since childhood, I'm sure the last thing he will want to do is pick it back up. You remember how he used to be- he was the sweetest child, couldn't harm a fly."
"I can help him overcome the negative influence it's had on him," Slade insisted. "He can work with me as I planned, given enough time."
"Let's hope so…"
It was hard to truly grasp reality sometimes. Joseph was alive and Slade was just resisting the urge to pinch himself. It was all too surreal.
Slade hardly slept that night, and got up earlier than usual. William was awake, too, making breakfast.
"There's enough here to feed a small army," Slade said as he entered the kitchen.
"What? The poor boy is a walking skeleton! I'm sure he needs all the food he can get."
"He'll need his rest, too," the younger man pointed out. "Who knows when he'll wake up."
"The oven is on, if I need to keep anything warm I can keep it in there for a while."
Slade didn't argue. He didn't blame Will at all, either. Joseph certainly needed a little extra care, and William Wintergreen was the perfect man for the job. He was the boy's godfather, after all. Slade was unsure of his own abilities to pick the role of being a father back up, but with his oldest and closest friend around, he felt that Joey was in good care.
A few hours later, the sun had risen, and Slade decided to check on Joey. He went down the hall, quietly opening the door. The teen was sitting quietly on the edge of his bed, which was already made. He looked up at Slade, expectantly. Of course. Slade couldn't expect him to feel comfortable wandering around a new place on the first day.
"You're awake. Well," Slade almost found himself fumbling for words, "William made some breakfast. You can clean up in the bathroom a bit, and there's some spare clothes that should fit you already in the dresser. When you're ready, come out to the kitchen to eat.
The blonde only nodded, standing up and going into the en suite bathroom. Slade left, shutting the door and letting out a heavy breath. Already this felt more difficult than he'd realized it would be. How was he supposed to act? Finding out that this boy was his son, formerly thought to be dead changed everything. He went back out to the kitchen.
"Joey's awake," he said. "He'll be out soon."
"Alright, I'll set the table." Will was practically bouncing around with enthusiasm. It made Slade smile and relax a bit. This was a good thing. It might be a little hard for them all to get used to at first, but that was fine. The rewards were well worth the sacrifices; plans could be altered.
It was about half an hour later when Joseph came into the kitchen. With all the dirt, blood, and grime that had covered the boy, Slade had expected it to take a little longer, but he looked perfectly clean. The only remnant of his wild look that remained was the length of his hair, still curling and forming waves even when damp, and falling into the teen's eyes.
William huffed slightly, appearing overcome with emotions. He stepped forward, reaching out, but Joseph stepped back, looking at him sharply. Slade tensed, waiting to see what happened. Will, of course, didn't miss a beat. He clapped his hands together gently, staying in one spot, smiling.
"It's good to see you again, Joey. I made a big breakfast, I'm sure you're famished, so please, have as much as you'd like."
If Wintergreen couldn't even touch Joseph, then he'd surely drown him in food instead. The man couldn't not show his affection, even if he had to do it in ways he hadn't planned.
While Will got the food, Slade spoke up. "This is William Wintergreen, I've known him since before you were born. We were in the army together, and he's your godfather."
Joseph gave a short nod in greeting but still didn't speak.
"Come, take a seat," Slade said, leading the way and sitting on one side of the table next to Will. Joseph walked carefully, and took a seat across from them both, where William had placed a plate piled high with different kinds of breakfast food. He sat stiffly, seeming unsure. Slade took the lead once more, beginning to eat, and Wintergreen did the same. Joseph followed suit, picking up a fork and eating slowly, with small bites. Looking at him, and watching the way he ate, one wouldn't think he was that hungry at all.
"Joseph?" Slade said. The boy mumbled something, not looking up. "Speak up, I can't hear you."
"J-Jericho... " he answered. "I'd prefer that, if it's alright, sir."
Slade only nodded. He didn't like it, not one bit, but this was about making the boy comfortable.
"Jericho it is, then. If you're not hungry, you don't have to eat."
"Of course not," Will added quickly. Neither of them believed that Jericho could be anything less than starving at this point, but if he hadn't eaten in a long time, his stomach could have shrunk as well.
Jericho didn't seem to have an answer, and only gave an unsure nod. Slade thought for a moment. Every minute this was proving to be harder and harder. Good thing he wasn't a quitter. He ate until his plate was empty, and cleared his throat.
"Sorry to leave so quickly, but I've got a few calls I need to make," he said, standing up. He gave Will a look, hoping he would understand what they needed to do.
"Yes, I should be getting started on cleaning the pots and pans as well," the older man added. "I'll leave what's left of the food here, eat as much as you'd like."
"Right. And, Jericho, when you've eaten enough come find me in the study. It's just down the hallway."
They both left him there, moving into the separated half of the kitchen where the cooking was done. They stood in silence, listening, and sure enough the soft sounds of a fork scraping a plate could soon be heard. Slade took a chance and looked in, seeing the boy eat at a much more enthusiastic, though still somewhat subdued pace. He leaned away with a soft sigh, and together he and William moved to the study where they could talk without being overheard.
"That poor child…." Will said at once. "What can we even do to help him?"
"He just needs time, that's all," Slade answered. "This isn't the kind of life he's used to, so he'll need help transitioning. It's like taking in a stray dog; once he grows to trust us more he'll be able to relax."
William pursed his lips. "I suppose… But if I can't give him a haircut, I'll go crazy!"
A little while later, Jericho timidly stepped in, knocking on the door. Slade nodded to him.
"Finished?" A nod. "Good, then. This is the study, where half of your learning will take place. A lot of research and preparation goes into my job, it's about more than knowing how to fight and kill people. Have you ever had to plan or prepare for a mission?"
"No, sir."
"Well, you'll get to learn. And, if you like, you're welcome to call me Slade, and to call Will by his name as well."
Jericho made a soft humming sound but didn't say anything else. Slade decided not to press it. He took the boy on a short tour through the base. Though it wasn't a house, it was pretty home-y. Maybe not too cozy, but liveable. It housed two former military men after all. The tour was short, as most of their time would be spent in the study or down a level in the vast training room. Slade took his time showing that one off, knowing Jericho was more likely to appreciate the collection of weapons than a collection of textbooks.
"That's it," he said. "A week from today, we can start lightly and work our way up from there. In the meantime, William thinks you are in need of a haircut, and I agree."
Jericho nodded and followed Slade back up to the kitchen, where Will was waiting.
"There you are," he greeted them warmly. "Jericho, would you be alright with a bit of a haircut."
The blonde nodded but still seemed a bit reluctant to step forward and sit on the stool. He moved very slowly, watching William with sharp eyes, reminding Will a little bit of the way a cat watches things that it doesn't know are safe or not. He waited patiently and produced a towel, clipping it like a cloak around the teen's shoulders.
He started slow, a hand just barely brushing Jericho's shoulder. The boy was tense, flinching, though it was hard to see. "Any preferences?"
Jericho shrugged.
"Remember," Slade said, "this man was in the army. If you don't speak up he might just buzz it all off." He was teasing, to lighten the mood and help the boy relax, but he was also a little serious. William had been known to do that. Jericho's eyes widened a bit.
"N-not…. Too short, please, sir?" he said.
"Alright," agreed Will. "Not too short."
Will got started, while Slade stayed to the side to watch. Jericho was tense, but very slowly he started to relax. William kept chatting idly to him, and that seemed to help. Soon, his newly clean yellow curls covered his ears and framed his face slightly, but he no longer 'looked like a jungle boy' in Will's words. He gave a very small but sincere smile when he saw what it looked like in the mirror, pleased with the results.
For the rest of the day, Slade let Jericho stay with him in the study while he worked, because it's what the boy seemed most comfortable with. But, he was at a complete loss as to what to even say or do. All of his plans, his training schedules, were out the window. Jericho looked as lost as he felt, at least. Little was spoken between them, but neither particularly minded.
Slade told Jericho he could read or look at anything he liked in the study, and eventually the blonde did start glancing through books. He settled on a travelling guide, a very thick volume that had a lot of pictures and information. He poured over it, looking at all the different places in the world to travel. Slade made a mental note to start planning ahead for a trip abroad. It might do the boy some good to see more of the world.
Besides looking through books, Jericho curled up in the large chairs, dozing off. He was still recovering after all, which was why Slade wanted to give him a week to do nothing but rest and relax a little. Eventually, it was time for dinner, and after that, bed. Dinner was quiet; Jericho ate just a bit better in the presence of the others compared to this morning, which was a good sign. They were starting to gain his trust. Slade sent Jericho to bed, and the three men retired for the night.
Late that night, or early the next morning, Slade left his room and stepped quietly down the hall. He opened the door to Jericho's bedroom, letting in a fraction of light. Inside he could see no more than a mop of blonde hair poking out from under the covers, but it was enough. From then on, he looked into the room every night, just because he could never really believe it.
The first weeks were surprisingly hard on the teen. He'd expected everything to just be okay, and while they were definitely better, he didn't feel okay. He realized that there was a large gap to be filled. Deathstroke (he had a hard time remembering to think of him as 'father') had rescued his son, and in his mind expected to get his son back. Jericho (he had the same problems reattaching the name 'Joseph' to himself) was no one's son. Slade's son had been killed, and Jericho had taken his place psychologically to stay alive.
He wanted desperately to please the man, as he did with all his masters, but couldn't get into the proper role. He was an assassin, a tool, a soldier. He could be many things, but he'd stopped being anyone's child so long ago that he forgot how. He addressed both William and Slade as 'sir', and they did their best to be understanding, gently reminding him from time to time that their names would be appropriate. The boy would remember for a little while, but old habits die hard. He would also stand at attention, stay in place unless he was prompted to go elsewhere, and only seemed willing to do what he was directly told to do, no more.
Slade knew that it would take a long time to break such habits that had been ingrained into him, likely with the threat of pain and suffering, no doubt, so he kept his patience. Not that the behavior was irritating, not really. It was difficult to see Joey like this. The son he'd lost was so different from the boy in front of him now, and he was beginning to see that the Joey he knew was truly lost. That didn't mean he would give up, however. Just because Joseph was different as a teen than as a child, didn't mean that he was any less Slade's son. It would only take time…
As the first week ended, and the training began, it was clear that Jericho was not adjusting as well as they'd hoped. He was tense and anxious, always needing something to do, some way to serve… Slade tried to comply, giving him makeshift homework assignments, to occupy his mind and let him continue his training in some way, to ease the transition. For now the boy learned about the robotics Slade used, how to build and repair it. However, it just wasn't enough.
Slade sparred with him when possible, but despite being used to such a thing, the boy wasn't used to sparring with Slade. He held back, as if afraid to somehow hurt the man. It was a laughable thought, to be honest, but it only attested to the boy's skills; if he had to hold back to prevent himself from hurting previous masters. Still, it was troublesome because when the boy held back, it made Slade hold back, and soon enough they were barely hitting each other. It was during one of these very moments that the boy started to snap.
"What do you want from me?" he asked suddenly, blocking a hit. Slade stopped his half-hearted attack, holding off to address this. Clearly the boy was upset.
"Serious sparring, for one," the man answered. "You hold back far too much, and so you're not making progress."
"No-! I mean…." Jericho's breath got caught up in his throat, and he threw his hands up. "I just don't know what to do. Do you expect me to be your son again? Do you want to train me to be your partner? I can't tell what you want."
It was by far the most Jericho had spoken since Slade brought him here, so it must be important to him. Slade let out a breath and set his bo-staff against the wall, gesturing for Jericho to do the same. They couldn't go on like this, he knew, and he'd been expecting something like this for a few days at least. He knew the boy was confused, and he knew that he would have to help ease him forward. "Alright, then let's have a seat and talk for a bit."
"Yes, sir."
Slade led them out of the training room, and into the downstairs kitchen area. He waved a hand for Jericho to sit at the table, and sat across from the boy. He let out a breath, folding his hands on the table in front of him. "Jo- Jericho. I know this is hard for you, and I expected we would have some kind of difficulty. However, the line between roles seems to be causing you trouble, correct?"
The boy looked down at his hands, held in his lap. "Yes sir…"
"Well, explain it a bit to me. Tell me how you're feeling and why you're feeling that way."
Jericho opened his mouth, seeming as though he wanted to protest, but he stopped. He already knew that the man would push for answers if he felt he needed to and this seemed to be a matter he was determined to get to the bottom of. The blonde spoke softly, "I don't know how…. I don't know how to be your son, or even your apprentice for that matter."
The man gave a simple nod. "I understand that. For a moment, let's put a pin on the first half, and for a minute pretend that we have no relation. I know you haven't had a family since you can remember, so it's only natural that you won't know how to behave as someone's son. I myself am a little rusty in the role of a father, so I can understand your confusion. Let's work on the second part first, alright?"
The boy sat, dumbstruck for a moment, before he burst out, "That! I don't know what that means!" The man raised an eyebrow, leaning back, and Jericho sighed. "No master has ever been kind, or understanding. No one has ever… talked to me before I met you. Only orders, instructions."
"Then your previous masters have all been terrible teachers, haven't they?" Slade pointed out. "I've found that… if I have to force a student into submission, and push them to their limits, it only breaks them down and makes them defiant. I want you to trust me, but that's something I know is earned over time. As long as you're willing to work with me, then there should be no reason to be harsh with you. I'm not trying to break you down, I don't need to do that to build you up, do you understand that?"
Jericho half-shrugged. "I guess…. It's not like I don't appreciate it, I just don't know how to react. When you act that way, I feel like it's because you see me as your son. Is that what you want me to be? Or do you really want me for an apprentice?"
"I think you're right about the way I see you," Slade admitted. "But unlike you, I do remember you as my son, even if you've forgotten that time in your life. I can't not see you that way, and it certainly does affect my actions towards you, even if I don't mean it to. Did you know that I trained your older brother as well?"
The boy's eyes widened. "I have a brother?"
Slade frowned slightly, looking to the side. "Had. He followed in my footsteps and was killed in action. I wasn't there when he needed me; we didn't always get along and he would go off on his own, because he was trying to prove himself all the time." He let out a deep sigh. "What I'm trying to say is… You aren't like him, at all. I could train Grant as my son without going too easy on him.
"But you- we lost you. Now that I have you back again a part of me is too afraid of losing you or seeing you get hurt to push you as hard as I should. I remember how you were growing up, kindhearted and sensitive, empathetic and loving. I know that you're older now, and that you can handle the pressure of being trained fairly, but I keep holding back, and I'm not the only one." He looked pointedly at the blonde, who looked at the floor at his feet.
"I guess you're right about that, I hold back as well," Jericho admitted. "I'm so confused, not knowing what you expect of me. I don't want to go full force, even though I know it wouldn't really hurt you. I'm different now… Now that I remember who I am, and now that I've fully realized what I've been through, if that makes sense."
"It does," the man told him. "I understand. Maybe it will help if I tell you what I do expect of you. I expect your absolute best. No more holding back, no hesitation. If it helps, just view me as a teacher, and show me what you can do. If you stop holding back, I'll stop going easy on you. Deal?"
The boy's wide green eyes were looking up at him, shimmering slightly. They were his mother's eyes, eyes that Slade would never forget. Eyes that Slade now knew held the key to a meta-human ability, although the boy had been harshly trained out of ever using it. That didn't matter, though, he was skilled enough without extra powers.
"Deal," Jericho agreed.
After that, the boy started to improve at a faster rate. Slade made a conscious effort to stop holding back in his training, and Jericho learned to set aside his feelings to keep up with it, eventually getting over his confliction. He learned quickly, showing off his skills and abilities. Still, there was something missing.
"I think he's just forgotten how to be happy," Will suggested one evening. It was after dinner, and Jericho had gone to bed. He had been quiet, as usual, not speaking more than he had to and eating slowly. "You've gotten him to settle into his role as your apprentice, but that's all it is."
"That's all he seems to be able to handle," said Slade. He sat at the table, where he'd been trying to come up with a solution all night. "Trying to do both confuses him."
Will turned to look at the younger man harshly. "And you chose to put him in that position over the one he should naturally be in?" He scoffed, turning back to the dishes he was washing. "I'm sure he can be gradually assimilated into both positions. Anyhow, if you don't want to pick the correct option…. Work on connecting with him. Not over training, but over other things."
"Like what?" Slade asked incredulously.
"Things he might be interested in," answered William. "As a child he had a lot of different interests, remember?"
Slade did remember; Joseph had been vastly different from not only his brother, but his parents as well. In a military family, he clung to things like art, and music. He couldn't be coaxed to learn how to shoot a gun or fight like Grant had. Slade frowned. "He's different now. He never used to want to fight or use weaponry but now it's all he knows. Will he even like the same things as before?"
Will rolled his eyes. "I honestly can't believe I have to spoon-feed you everything. There's no way you'll know if you don't try, Slade. Take him out to the city. Jump is full of things to do. Take him to a movie or an art gallery and see if he likes them. If he doesn't, then take him to a sports game or out fishing or hunting until you find something he does like. Or-!" the older man threw his hands up into the air, splashing soap and water, "maybe even ask him! Now there's an idea!"
Slade's frown deepened and he stood up. "I could do without the sarcasm, thank you," he grumbled, making his way out of the kitchen to retire for the night.
"And I could do without having to hold your hand the whole way…" William said in response, making sure it was loud enough for Slade to hear on his way out. Well, Jericho was certainly not an easy child to care for. He was well-mannered and polite, of course, but he had a lot of adjusting left to do. While it may be a bit much for just one man, William was still annoyed at times at how dense that one man could be about simple things like this. At least he seemed to take the advice seriously.
True enough, a day or two later, after breakfast, Slade proposed that Jericho come with him on an outing to a museum in the city. The young man was a bit confused, at first, as this was certainly unexpected.
"A museum?" he asked. "Are…. you contracted to steal something there?"
"No," the man answered simply.
"A test of the security?" The boy raised an eyebrow, bewildered.
"No."
"Are we scouting for information?"
"Not that."
Jericho let out a heavy sigh of frustration. "Then why are we going to the museum?"
"To see exhibits, nothing more," Slade finally told him. "Just as a normal, casual, visit. To take a break and… have some fun."
The blonde looked at his father as if he'd suddenly grown an extra head. "For fun?"
"Yes," the man said firmly. "You know what they say, all work and no play. It'll be good to have a day off, especially since you've never actually had one."
The boy looked down, thinking it over. It was true, while he had breaks, and 'easy' days over the years, never had he truly had a whole day off of work and training. And certainly never to have fun. He couldn't clearly remember the last time he'd had fun. Again, there were easier times in training, and he had had moments where he felt good about improving his skills or accomplishing tasks, but… fun? No, not at all. He looked back up at the man across the table from him. "Is this… because I'm your son? Or your apprentice?"
Slade thought about it for a second before answering confidently. "Both. Perhaps this is more for you as my son, but even an apprentice needs days off now and again. Does it sound alright to you? Is there anything else in particular you'd rather do?"
Jericho shook his head. "No, sir, a museum sounds fine."
Even if he agreed out of obedience, Jericho found himself inwardly excited, which was a foreign feeling to him at this point. He was nervous, of course, about spending casual time with the man, but it was still an overall positive opportunity for him.
"Alright, change into some street clothes and we'll head out."
The boy was still quite skittish, especially in public, surrounded by people. He was unused to being in such a large crowd- that is, without having to fight or kill anyone. Slade stayed close, putting a comforting hand on Jericho's shoulder when he felt that the blonde needed it, which seemed to soothe him. It was interesting to Slade, seeing as the boy didn't seem to want or couldn't handle viewing Slade as a father, always being awkward with physical communication, but in this setting, it looked like even something nerve-wracking could be comforting, if it was the only familiar thing happening. It was a weekday, though, and the morning for that matter, so not many people were would hate to see him stuck in a setting with more people than this.
By the time they arrived at the museum, got past the tension, and Jericho showed real interest in the exhibits. He seemed curious, and eager to learn, which Slade was pleased to see. He wanted to be able to teach his son, not only skills of his trade, but also general knowledge. Anything he could think of to expand the boy's mind. He'd been training hard for years, but he'd also been cut off from so many things. Asking questions and learning helped to calm and distract him, which was exactly what Slade was hoping for. If they made this a regular thing, it would help Jericho progress, letting him slowly assimilate back into the normal world. Will had been right to suggest this.
"That looks like an ugly lion," Jericho said softly, making Slade chuckle.
"It's an incense burner," he said. "It's supposed to be carved to look like a deity of death, possibly the Aztec god, Mictlantecuhtli." The blonde looked up at him with a raised eyebrow.
"Do you know everything?"
"Well, nearly," Slade said with a slight smirk, pointing to a small placard. "but I can also read the description."
Jericho flushed bright red, looking annoyed, but not seriously. He was starting to get used to the man's dry sense of humor. "I can read, I just didn't see-"
He was interrupted by the alarms going off, sirens blaring and lights flashing. Instinctively, Slade pulled him closer, a sharp eye scanning the area for immediate danger. There were sounds of things breaking, people shouting, but it was still somewhat far off. Everyone around them seemed confused, too afraid to move or do anything. As best that Slade could guess, there was a break in, but in another area nearby. The Titans were probably already on their way, but he didn't care about that, he wasn't in uniform. He spent a lot of time traveling through the city as a citizen, almost on a daily basis.
No, what he was worried about was protecting Jericho, who was already starting to fall apart. Slade tried to think of a way to get them both out of the building without blowing his cover as an everyday citizen. Obviously, he could easily fight his way out, guessing that some HIVE students were the culprits this time, but he couldn't do that in this setting. For now, all he could do was act as the other citizens did, and try to keep Jericho calm.
The blonde had gone impossibly tense at the sound of alarms, and by the look in his eye, he was trying desperately to find himself again. Years of relentless training told him to respond to alarms, to immediately prepare for a fight, to protect a master or achieve a goal. Fortunately, he was holding himself back, but at a cost. He was trying to reject his programming, so to speak, which wasn't an easy task. Slade was happy that he knew he shouldn't leap into action, here, but still concerned for the state it was putting him in.
Jericho's breathing started to grow shorter, and more frantic. He was hugging himself tightly, eyes transfixed on the ground. Slade recognized the growing panic attack, and pulled the boy to sit on the ground against the wall with him, shielding him from anyone who would walk through the doorway. Other patrons in the room were starting to react, speaking in loud whispers, trying to decide if they should try to escape or hide. No one seemed to notice the man and his son.
"Easy," Slade spoke softly. "Breathe. Take deep breaths. There you go, now another one. Can you hear me? Good. You're doing well, just stick by my side and act ordinary. Now is not the time for action. If something goes terribly, I'll take care of it. Nothing bad will happen to you, and I don't expect you to fight. You don't have to do that anymore, it's not your job to protect me. I protect you. Do you understand me? Good. Keep breathing, you're alright."
He kept talking, giving Jericho something to focus on. With something solid to cling to, a train of thought to guide him, his torn psyche was at peace. He had orders, in a way. Stay low, don't fight. He thought of it as an undercover operation, and they couldn't blow that cover for anything. Thinking of it like that helped him cope, and calm down again. There was a plan, everything was already taken care of.
"Is your boy alright?"
Slade glanced up, seeing an elderly couple semi-crouched beside them, clearly having decided not to run away. He already had a response, and the white lies flowed easily from his mouth.
"He'll be okay, he was just nearly put into a panic attack," Slade explained calmly, one hand soothingly rubbing Jericho's arm and shoulder, keeping him focused. "He's been through some rough times, the noises startled him."
They nodded knowingly, and Slade suspected that the man was a war veteran. He could have served in the same war that Slade himself did. "I see," said the old man. "I remember those days. Things got better for me, I hope they do for your son as well."
"Don't worry, sweetheart," cooed the old woman, towards the young man. "The Titans will be here soon, nothing bad will happen."
The boy didn't respond, and none of them could be sure he heard her at all. All was relatively silent for a moment until something crashed through a wall, breaking several glass cases and disturbing the artifacts. A figure pulled itself out of the rubble, dusting themselves off, and this was the first Jericho saw of any Titan.
It was a large man- no, wait -robot? No, there was a word for this, the blonde just couldn't remember what it was. At any rate, he was a human, partially made up of robotic parts that all had blue circuitry. One arm was formed into a cannon, which he fired back into the room he'd come from on the other side of the wall.
"Booyah!" he shouted, which was weird to Jericho, but something….fascinating. Something new; an enthusiastic battle cry. Beside him, Slade sort of twitched, like he was tensing up but quickly relaxed again. The robotic teen charged back into the apparent fight, and now with the wall busted open, it was more audible. Jericho listened closely, his brain working fast, as usual. He may not be fighting, but his analyzing skills were never shut off. He counted eight distinct voices. One of them, though, echoed, as if multiple people, but with the exact same voice.
There wasn't much to see from here, even with the hole in the wall, but he kept his gaze sharp, taking in everything. Flashes of light, mostly blue, presumably from the robotic Titan's cannon, and some green. Brief glimpses of bodies, moving fluidly in the action of the fight. Mostly, he heard their battle cries, and quickly familiarized himself with each, imagining the identities of each person based on their voices and the way they talked. It wasn't always accurate, but it had helped him in the past to get an idea of who he might be up against.
In only minutes, the fight seemed to be over. Civilians started to rise again from where they were hiding, already relaxing again. A lot of them were used to it by now, and it wasn't that big of a deal. Slade stood up, holding Jericho gently by the arm, anxious to get out of here, hoping they wouldn't run into the Titans directly. Would the Justice League know about Jericho's escape? If they did, would they bother to tell the Titans? Slade couldn't let anyone find Jericho again, that was for certain.
"Is everyone alright?" Raven's monotone preceded her into the room. She lowered her hood, scanning the room. Slade knew she was looking for any injuries that might need healing, but there were none. Seeing this, she turned around, lifting her hands and using her dark powers to raise the rubble back into a wall, repairing it.
Jericho watched her, an intensity in his eyes, taking in every detail. Slade hoped that his staring didn't give them away, but there was no way to warn him against it without drawing attention for certain. Under different circumstances, Raven would sense him right away, recognizing him even without the mask, if only she was actually looking for him. The only reason she didn't know who he was, is because she would never expect Slade, the criminal mastermind, to be here. If, however, she looked over and noticed him, and looked too closely, she might start to think he seemed familiar.
"Let's go," he said in a low voice, carefully leading Jericho out with the crowd. On their way out, they passed each of the other Titans, mostly surrounding the current 'HIVE Five', all sitting on the ground handcuffed. Jericho was watching them, observing them all intensely, but didn't garner any attention from anyone.
"Who are they?" the question was saved until they'd made it back home, but Slade knew exactly what the blonde was asking.
"They're the Teen Titans, and they're trouble. They're in the same circle as the Justice League, so it's best you stay out of their sight for a while, in case any capes are looking for you. They were fighting off the HIVE Five, students from HIVE Academy, a school meant for metahuman teens to learn how to harness their powers for criminal activity. You're better off away from them, as well. All you need to know you'll learn from me; you don't need a half-rate school to teach you anything."
Jericho took this information in thoughtfully, filing it away in his brain as they made their way down to the basement. "Yes, well… Who are they? If I ever end up facing them again, shouldn't I know who they all are, what they can do?"
Slade let out a breath, stopping and looking over his shoulder, making the boy freeze. The man was sure he didn't look angry (he didn't feel angry with the questions, after all) but he reminded himself that he was an intimidating figure, and Jericho was still nervous at times, always timid when he actually spoke up 'out of turn.' Slade touched his shoulder, leading him towards the computer consoles.
"Fair enough. I can't begrudge you information. The first year or two that I came here, the Titans were… an interest of mine. We clashed on several occasions, as I was looking for a replacement of Grant, and they caught my eye. Obviously, this was before I found you, and now that you're with me my search for an apprentice is over, but if we are to go out to fulfil a contract, it's a possibility that we'll run into them. I can't allow them to get anywhere near you, so you're right; I think it's a good idea for you to know what you might be up against."
He started up the computer system, multiple screens lighting up. He typed in several commands, opening up a series of folders, accompanied by thumbnail pictures, labeled with the names of Titans and local villains alike. He pulled a chair out, gesturing for Jericho to take a seat.
"Go ahead and read up on them, everything I know is in there. I don't expect you to memorize it, but the major details should be easy enough for you to retain, I'm sure. After dinner, I'll give you an oral quiz to see how much you learned."
Jericho gave him a slight frown, a little nonplussed at Slade's insistence for constant learning opportunities, but he couldn't be that annoyed. After all, this is what he'd wanted to learn, and he was actually eager to do so. This was much better than just listening to voices and getting glimpses through a crowd. Plus, he felt proud that his father was so willing to share all of the information he had. It made Jericho feel like an equal for once, a partner and not a slave. He sat down, and got right to work. Slade left him to it, hoping that his curiosity would be satisfied with this, and hoping that nothing more came of it.
Jericho put in headphones, opening up a program that converts text to audio. As he'd explained to Slade, he learned more by listening than by reading. This way he could multitask. He rested his chin in one hand, clicking through pictures and files while he listened.
One night, not long after that, when Slade opened the bedroom door to check on Jericho, he found the blonde lying awake, staring at the ceiling. He was a bit surprised by this, and felt a little awkward in a way, being caught checking up on his teenage son as if he were only a toddler.
"Jericho, you're awake?"
Jericho nodded once, and looked over. "Sorry. I never sleep very well. I never really have."
"I didn't mean to wake you."
"You didn't," Jericho said. "You haven't this whole time, whenever you check on me."
Now Slade was doubly taken aback. "You've been awake?"
"Every night," Jericho confirmed, voice light and soft. "I always thought you might be mad at me for being awake when I shouldn't be so I've always just stayed under the blankets."
Slade stepped into the room, walking over to sit on the edge of the bed. "What wakes you up every single night?"
"I'm a light sleeper," Jericho started. "And I get a lot of bad dreams. And sometimes…" he let out a sigh. "A lot of the time, I keep thinking that this isn't real. That I've gone crazy and started to hallucinate or something. When I fall asleep I worry that I'll wake up again, for real, and I won't be here. It's easier to be awake, as long as I get enough rest."
Slade wanted to protest but couldn't think of many strong arguments. After all, Jericho hadn't shown any signs of fatigue at any point, which led one to believe that he really did get the rest that he needed to function. But, still…
"I know it's hard, but you need to be able to get more sleep," he said. "We can consider it something to work on, alright? William would be willing to make you some tea every night, which could help. If I have to I can get you some medication that will help too."
The boy merely nodded, blank faced. He didn't seem bothered by the fact that he couldn't sleep, but no matter how well 'rested' Jericho was, or seemed to be, Slade knew that it stemmed from unhealthy psychological issues, which he wanted his son to be able to overcome. One step at a time. Slade thought for a moment, trying to come up with something that might help.
"Hold on, I'll be back."
The blonde looked up at him curiously, watching as he left. In a few minutes, he was back, holding something in his hand.
"It might not mean much," Slade said, "but maybe it will help you remember that this is all real."
He handed the object to Jericho, who looked at it in the dim light. It was a bit of shiny, sharp metal, that was shaped into a jagged 'S'. A type of throwing knife, it seemed like.
"What's this?"
"A weapon," Slade shrugged. "I said it might not mean much. But, if you ever think that this isn't real, that might help you know that it is. It's a signature weapon I've used, there's no others like them. It's not something you'd have seen before so you wouldn't be able to remember it falsely or probably even make it up. It's the best thing I have that's just lying around."
The boy stared at it, turning it over in his fingers. "It's nice…. Thank you." He didn't say any more than that. Truthfully, he was too blown away, even over something so simple. He didn't want to be obvious about it, but it felt really… special. No one had ever given him something before, not like this. Sure, he'd been given his own weapons and pieces of gear, but even though this was just another weapon it was still more than that. It was a gift, something to make him feel a little better. A bit crude and not necessarily well thought-out, but genuine all the same.
"Goodnight, Jericho."
"Goodnight." He laid back down as Slade left, tucking the metal weapon under his pillow for safekeeping.
Well, thanks for reading. I'll post the rest when I feel like it. Honestly some reviews would motivate the hell out of me, I'm not even going to pretend I don't want them because I do. Like I've said before, reviews are like cotton candy. Might be empty, sugary air, but they taste good all the same.
Until next time!