Father's Day

Featuring: Black Manta and Kaldur'ahm

"Father,"

"Yes son."

Kaldur'ahm hung back, his brow furrowed in deep contemplation. "Father, I have a request."

Black Manta stopped and turned to face his long lost heir.

A silent acknowledgment of consent allowed the son to take a nervous breath before saying, "When this is all over, when our business with the Light is complete, I would like for us to spend some time together. We have been apart for so long, it would be nice to get to know you, outside of work that is."

Black Manta's brow creased as he considered his son's unusual request. Since becoming a father and son duo, Kaldur'ahm had rarely requested anything, especially something as personal as this. However, Kaldur'ahm's stoic eyes remained steadfast and true as his father searched his son's face for the slightest motive behind the request.

"When the Light have accomplished their mission, then we will talk," Black Manta's replied.

He had no worries, no reason to fear. Father and son would have plenty of time to bond when it was all over.

That was before things got complicated.

Black Manta's groans matched those of his ship as what remained of his loyal crew scurried back to the darkest depths of the ocean. His body ached and groaned from the thorough lashing just hours earlier. Bruises, broken bones, and damaged organs did not heal as quickly as they once did. He was getting too old for this. Each time he faced the Justice League or any affiliates of that accursed group, he came back with more battle scars and double the wait time until full recovery. That was partially why he was more than overjoyed to have his son join his coat of arms. He was young, agile, and more than perfect to take on the Manta family legacy.

Unfortunately, it seemed his son did not agree with that sentiment. Not only did Kaldur'ahm turn coat and return to the weak king's side, but he also used and betrayed Black Manta's good will and kindness to benefit his own personal agenda and weakened beliefs.

Black Manta slammed a fist onto his desk and cringed at the searing pain burning away the inside of his flesh. His arm and back cried out in protest from any movement with razor sharp jabs at his psyche. His brain was overloaded with pain, yet nothing could compare to the acidic anguish eating away at his heart. It felt like every organ had been violently ripped out of his body, and only his shell was left, doomed to walk the crushing depths of the ocean floor alone. Ripping out his still beating heart and tenderizing it with a mallet would have hurt less than Kaldur'ahm's betrayal.

'How could this have happened,' he though, slumping down in his chair. The lies, the treachery, the double crossing, all of it so recent and yet so unreal. He wished it was unreal. A nightmare, a figment of his imagination that he would wake from soon. Sleep and pain had declined him that luxury. The bruises on his body were real. The emptiness and despair in his heart was real. Every swirling emotion and sense he was feeling was a disappointing reminder that all this was indeed real.

The Light had fallen and its members had scattered like bugs. Those few who had escaped capture, like Black Manta, were running as fast as they could to any dark corner small enough to be overlooked by the Justice League. Those who had been contained, Black Manta choose not to think about those unlucky bastards.

But Black Manta didn't want to run away and hide. He wanted to morn. He wanted to mourn the loss of his son for the second time. If it hadn't been for the king, if it hadn't been for that Martian witch, everything would have been as it should have be, perfect. Father and son, exploring the deep seas together, perusing unattainable dreams only to obtain it with great sacrifice and scarification. Everything would have been perfect.

But now, no more. No longer would the heir of Black Manta be of biological decent. No more hopes of retirement with visits from Kaldur'ahm. Not more dreams of grandbabies asking for stories of great plunder. No more hopes of ever connecting with his son. Kaldur'ahm had decided on his path, and Black Manta was too old to change his. They were too far apart now; the fight at the Summit made it all too clear. Their morals were too different. The gap between them was too wide. The concept of a "forever" he had wished so hard for was lost and replaced with cold, dark, emptiness.

Black Manta let out a lonely sigh as his son's first words echoed in his head.

"Father, father."

The first words he spoke as the Martian witch began to break her curse. Even now, those two words made his heart melt into a blubbering pile of sappy emotions. 'This is what it would have been like,' he remembered thinking back then. 'This is what it would have been like if we remained a family.'

He let out another sight and allowed his weary arms and body to slide listlessly over the desk. He turned his head at the soft noise of a piece of paper falling down to the ground. Reaching down, he opened the unlabeled folded paper and read its contents.

Father,

On the third Sunday of June, meet me under the pier at high tide.

All Kaldur'ahm could do at this point was pace and wait. He had prepared for this moment as best he could, and could only hope things didn't go half as bad as he imagined. The soft sand of the beach was liberally flattened from his nervous back and forth footsteps. He had tried to talk himself out of this stupid idea hundreds of times on the way down to the waterfront, but this was too important to ignore. This meeting was too important; he could not afford to let his fear to control him. Kaldur'ahm clenched his shaking hands in an attempt to dispel the nerves. This was his last chance. Maybe the only chance he would have at salvation for his sin. There was no turning back now.

Yellow streaks of a new day grew up from beyond the horizon. His stomach dropped. He would be here soon. Kaldur'ahm tried to think positive thoughts to relax.

Today was another day the world could sleep in innocent bliss. A day when evil did not have its intimidating hand over the clueless and innocent. How lucky for them. He had sacrificed so much for moments such as these, for the thousands of people who would never thank him even if they knew. But some days, he questioned if it was all worth it. The world was at peace, the threat was gone for now, but he had lost something of profound importance in the process, and it tore him apart.

There wasn't time for words of apology or regret. Everything happened so fast. One minute he was fighting alongside his father, like the dream team they were, the next moment Kaldur had turned his back on everything his father stood for. It was only by pure luck that he hadn't slain his father in the chaotic transition. So much anger. So much hurt. The memories of their last battle haunted his nightmares even after so much time had passed. The heartbreak in his father's eyes, Kaldur could not forget, nor did he want to forget.

The ground shook and shuddered beneath his bare feet, doing little to calm Kaldur's nerves. He looked to the ocean and saw a familiar black vessel rise from the depths of the sea. He straightened his jacket and walked toward the water. Kaldur had hoped Black Manta hadn't brought work to this special meeting, but the daunting size of the vessel allowed his mind to wander into dark places that warned him otherwise. When one was not on it or in control of the vessel, it was easy to consider the loud announcement an intimidating threat.

A familiar hiss of the hatch as Black Manta stepped out from the ship. Armor shined and ready for battle, he stepped off and walked across the cool steel toward his son. They stood there, air crisp and sharp with the morning tide. One in the water and one on land. Both sides eyeing each other, waiting for the other's first move. Considering their last encounter, caution was an understandable precaution.

Nervous, Kaldur took a leap of faith and made the first move. "You are looking well, father."

"All things considering," said a harsh voice from beneath the all too familiar helmet.

Mustering up all his courage, Kaldur began as he had rehearsed so many times. "Father, I-"

Black Manta held up a single hand. "No apologies necessary my son. In fact, it is I who should be apologizing to you." A click and a soft hiss allowed him to remove the mantel and look straight into the eyes of his offspring. Kaldur gave his father a bewildered look as the elder hopped off the ship to acknowledge his son on shore.

"Of all of the things I had done wrong as a father, I guess this just adds another one to the list," he said, placing his helmet down on the sand. "Leaving you alone, all that time while I attempted to fulfill my own desires, it's no wonder you turned out this way. I only have myself to blame for where your alliances lie." Placing his hand on his son's shoulder, he looked into his Kaldur'ahm's pale eyes. "But let it never be said that I am not proud to be your father."

"But," stammered Kaldur'ahm. "I thought you would be angry."

"Not angry, disappointed." Black Manta said with a sigh. "There were so many things I wish we could do together, so much potential. But you have made your decision and chosen this path, and as long as you are content with your decision, as your father, there is nothing more that I could wish for. But if you ever feel like joining me again don't hesitate."

Kaldur'ahm smiled at his father, his tense shoulders finally relaxed with relief. "We can still do those things father. Maybe not the way you imagined, but we can still do those things."

Black Manta was not the only one who had dreamed of a different future. Many times, when Kaldur'ahm was younger, he had dreamed of meeting his birth father. For many years he had dreamed of spending long hours exploring the far reaches of his king's territory, together. They would visit the local festivities together, and his father would spoil him rotten with cheep carnival food and badly constructed prizes from unwinnable carnival games. They would laugh together. They would cry together. They would do everything together.

Both younger and older Kaldur dreamed his father would praise him every day for being amazing, and Kaldur would deflect the compliment by saying he never did anything special. His father would be a failure at cooking, tell bad Dad jokes, and be suspiciously mischievous around his friends.

He dreamed of the cool yet calming warmth of his father's embrace, and that satisfaction of a second dark skinned being against a sea of white. Kaldur'ahm didn't mind the pale completion of his companions, growing up around people that looked different that he was not something of malcontent. He loved all his friends, no matter the color of their skin or breed. However, he always dreamed of a certain untapped fulfillment just by seeing someone who looked like himself. A place or person he could call home. A place where he would not be a "darkened Atlantean", but just an "Atlantean." That slight difference, he had craved for his entire life.

And now, he had that chance. After all the betrayal and deception, false words were no longer in his vernacular. He could be true to his father, true to himself and his values. Kaldur'ahm had his second chance and he would be damned if he screwed it up.

"I am glad you have come to terms with my decision," Kaldur'ahm said with a heartfelt smile.

He reached into the folds of his coat and pulled out a small package. "I brought this for you, as a peace offering off sorts." Kaldur'ahm handed the thin box to his father who opened it cautiously. "Today is a holiday that celebrates fathers and father figures," explained Kaldur'ahm. "Although we may not agree on many things, I wanted to give this to you as a sign of my gratitude and hope that we may better our relationship in the future."

Black Manta pulled out the gift and examined it carefully. The long red silken gift showed no apparent use besides looking … silky. "What is this?"

"My friends say it is traditional to give these as gifts to fathers. I believe it is called a tie."

Black Manta continued to glare at the cloth, almost daring it to do something sinister. Kaldur took the tie away from his father's reach, his mouth hinting at an amused smile.

"When men on land wear a suit, they have one of these around their necks. But I have also heard that when they are extremely happy about something, they wear it on their head," explained Kaldur'ahm replacing the now tied tie on Black Manta's brow.

"How does it look?" asked an earnest father.

"It… becomes you," replied the well-meaning son. It looked rather silly to be honest. Kaldur'ahm wondered why Nightwing and Kid Flash had suggested such an odd peace offering.

A noise from the decrepit ship drew their attention away from the present.

"I must go," Black Manta said, urgently picking up his helmet. It was all back to business now. "The men are getting impatient."

Seconds before Black Manta retreated into the ship, Kaldur'ahm called out to him one last time. "Father! We must do this again."

Black Manta paused for a moment, considering the offer as the sound of seawater, lapping against the hardened metal of the ship filled their silence. "Yes," he replied, not turning back. "We must."

As Kaldur'ahm watched his father board the vessel, he called out one last time, "Father, Happy Father's day."

The father turned around and saw, not his enemy who had betrayed his deep seeded trust, but his son. His one and only son asking for a second chance. They may not be as they once were, and never could they be as they once. They may yet need to confront each other on the battlefield many times in the future, but his son was asking for one last chance to get to know him. The real him.

As rigid as the steel in his helmet, Black Manta replied, "Thank you son," before the hatch closed on him and the black ship disappeared once more beneath the waves.

Below the waves and every growing stillness of the deep, Black Manta's men turned their heads toward their leader, expectant for instructions.

Once seated in his rightful seat, the navigator turned to him for orders. "Captain?" he asked as both an acknowledgement of authority and as a question.

Atop the renown helmet, slightly cocked to one side as to fit over the brim, was a red silk tie, waving the colors of a proud father for all the world to see. "Full speed ahead son," he ordered his crew.

"Full speed ahead."

A/N: I meant for it to be better. I really did, but I wanted this to be out BEFORE the next episode completely ruined my made up cannon. Sorry for any spelling or grammar errors. Again, I wanted this out before the next episode.

Hopefully more to come that will be better, but don't cross your fingers. I write really slow.

Speculative cannon as of March 1, 2013

Edit: Lots of changes made since I first posted this. I've become a better writer over the past year and wanted to show off a bit. It's been over a year since I first posted this and I could not be happier with the changes. So much has happened and so much has changed. I'll be making edits to some (not all) of the vignettes and hopefully posting a few new chapters soon. Keep your eyes open and I'll see you soon. You can follow me on tumbler under the name Miniblackraven or on my AO3 account under MiniRaven where I'll also be posting the edited version of these stories. Eventually.

I'll post the direct links on my profile page to make it easier. Keep in touch ;)