This is a one-shot based off of the story Luthor's Assassin by Meridianpony. This was written and published with permission from the author. I can only hope I did it justice. Well, here goes nothing. Inspiration to write this came from reading Luthor's Assassin and listening to the song We Are Broken by This, The Silent War. It's a good song, check it out. Seriously, it helped, I had this playing while I write this. I recommend listening to the song.
DISCLAIMER: I own nothing. Credit goes to the rightful owners. Special thanks to Meridianpony for giving me permission to publish this.
Dick would never admit it, but it was getting harder and harder to not put up a front that he was OK at these sessions. Shortly after the League got a hold of him and he agreed to do community service with the sidekick squad, the League decided to sign him up for Saturday therapy sessions with Black Canary.
It was becoming a battle of wills between them, she would try to break his walls while Dick would try to shut her out, put up a front that he was OK, a charade. That he could care less for the stupid therapy sessions, that he didn't want-need-someone to understand, somebody to lean on and be there for him.
"So, what're we gonna talk about today, Doc?" Renegade gave Black Canary a challenging smirk as he leaned back in his chair across from her.
.
.
.
It was hours later. The other members had gone to their homes to bed, and everyone was asleep. Later, much later, after the therapy session, Dick wakes up in a cold sweat. It's something that happens to him often, nightmares about the people he killed. This nightmare was about his first kill.
Miss Martian wasn't here to sense his distress and pry into his 'dream' and he's thankful for that. The martian who had been so kind to him didn't deserve to see that, those nasty ugly things. He didn't have to worry about Superboy hearing him, because the walls were sound proof. Alone in the dark, Dick's fear creep into his mind.
He's aware that he's an interesting sight. His pulse is racing, his eyes are wild with tears in them, his shaggy, messy black hair is sticking up at odd angles. The sheets on his bed are twisted and tangled. Dick was barefoot, clad in nothing but a red t-shirt and black sweat pants. The black sweat pants were the kind that scrunched around his ankles and had a drawstring tie to hold it up.
The stupid inhibitor collar was still on his neck. It was designed to shock him should he leave the Mountain without someone, so he couldn't sneak away while everyone's asleep. Hm . . . He was alone in the Cave right now. Dick looked around. There were no security cameras in his room, he had checked.
Dick figured Batman didn't put them in because he would be labeled a creep. Though his paranoia is justified, Dick had almost managed to escape the Watchtower with half the Justice League on his tail. Whatever. Dick crept silently to the door. With no weapons or tools to use to create a hole in the wall to the control panel for the door on the other side, Dick went for the easy option.
He put his foot through it. Admittedly, it hurt, and in hindsight, not his best idea, but it worked. Dick got to the control panel, thankful for soundproof walls. Hacking the door easily and watching it slide open, Dick smirked. So much for the magnetic locks, Batman. He went out into the hall, bare feet padding silently against the floor.
Dick wandered. This was the first time he had ever been alone here, alone and free. Well, free enough. He still couldn't leave, but at least he was out of that blasted room. That was a start. Dick wiped at the tears in his eyes. He would not cry. Slade taught him to be strong, Luthor would want him to be strong. Both of them would want him to be ruthless and relentless in attempts to escape.
But Dick . . . He didn't know if he wanted to leave. He didn't know if he wanted to go back, and he didn't know if he wanted to stay here. He didn't know what to do. With a jolt, Dick realized that he had run into a door. A very familiar door. It was the door to the therapy room. He walked in. He was met with a silent, dark waiting room.
He wasn't sure why he was here, it just felt like some sort of refuge with all the time he had spent in sessions in here, away from the suspicious glances of the Team and glares from Wally and occasionally Roy, when he was here. The waiting room was a small rectangular room with chairs along the wall. There was a door on the left, and it led to a small, cramped office where 'Doc' kept her files, her records.
Nobody, not even the mentors, were allowed to see the files Black Canary had from her therapy sessions for the superheroes. Even for Dick, Canary was only ever allowed to say whether or not she made progress. Yay him. But he was pretty sure his file was empty of anything useful. Dick feet gravitated him towards the room where the sessions took place. He left the door open.
Two green chairs facing each other with a little waterfall in the middle on the wall. Dick went to the chair he usually sat in. He sat curled up with his knees to his chest. He was hugging his knees tightly, like if he clutched them tight enough he could hold back the tears. He looked at a spot on the floor, blankly staring at it, as if imagining himself somewhere else, doing something else.
He had a far off look in his eyes, tears present but not falling. Dick spoke into the silence, not sure why. He guessed he was just giving into the childish impulse to tell someone, anyone, and have them comfort him, holding him when he cried. But there was no one there, there hadn't been for a while now. No one had ever heard him when he cried. Slade and Luthor didn't care, the adults didn't care. Slade and Luthor didn't like it when he cried. There was no one to trust but himself.
"You keep asking me about my childhood, what I was before Renegade." The tone was hollow, full of despair and defeat, battle weary and scared, slightly hoarse because he was forcing himself not to start crying, not again. And empty, so empty, with a tiredness and a numbness to it that a thirteen year old should never know. Not yet, not at his age. "To start, my name is Richard John Grayson."
"I was an acrobat for Haly's International Traveling Circus. I was part of the Flying Grayson's. We were amazing, soaring and flying through the air. I love my family. One day, a crime boss named Tony Zucco tried to extort protection money from the circus. The problem was, Pop Haly ran an honest business and refused to pay. The lines were sabotaged. I told people it was Zucco who sabotaged them, but no one believed me."
"I wasn't allowed to participate in the finale, it was too dangerous. I'd always ask my dad to be a part of the finale every single night, even though he'd say no every single night. With the way Zucco had sabotaged the lines, it would take a lot of weight to break them."
"The kind of weight like my whole family on the trapeze. I don't think Zucco intended for me to survive. I don't think he knew I wasn't in the finale, with our signature move, the one that made us really famous. The lines broke."
Dick voiced became strained and detached, "I watched them fall. I. Watched. My. Family. Die. And I did nothing."
Dick half screamed the last part.
"It's my fault. I saw Zucco sabotaging the lines, but I didn't tell anyone. I watched my family die. It's my fault they're dead. Why, oh god why did it have to be them? Why did they have to die? Why did they-"
Dick's strangled voice broke off. " It just wasn't fair." He whispered. "It wasn't right. How could people kill each other?" A bitter laugh. "I suppose I'm a bit of a hypocrite asking that question."
"And Luthor . . ." Dick's voiced trailed off. He was shaking, and his lip was trembling. He sat still curled in a ball with his knees to his chest. His feet were cold. Dick's voice gained strength. "Well, you keep asking me about my story, so I might as well tell you."
"Luthor . . . He was there. He saw me that night. I've never asked but I know why-the sole reason-he took me in just to be his-" Dick shut his eyes tightly. He couldn't finish the sentence. But he had to, because it was the truth.
"He took me in because he wanted me to be his assassin!" Dick finally screamed out. "He, dammit, Luthor hired Slade to train me, and I had nothing. No one was there when I needed someone. I-I would have break downs, and Lex would just brush it off, trusting it to go away in time. Slade was brutal. He beat me. Luthor beat me. I wanted to leave so badly, but I had nowhere else to go."
"Once, Superman offered to take me away, but where would I go? The orphanage? I already knew too much." Dick continued. "I was already a liability. Luthor kept me out of public sight, so much so that they doubt I exist. The only-the only friends I ever had were Roy and Wally. And they hate me. And Luthor . . . whenever he was mad, especially when his plan failed, his anger landed on me."
"It didn't help that as well as being brutal, Slade has a temper, and I can piss him off pretty well and fairly quickly. When Superboy escaped? Luthor's anger landed on me. And the first time I killed someone . . . I didn't realized I did it until after it was done. I almost didn't do it. Killing goes against everything my parents taught me. They'd be disgusted by me if they saw what I am today, and they'd hate what I'd become. An assassin."
"Slade, he screamed at me to shoot. I was trained so hard to obey his commands that I shot automatically. I killed someone. I had a freakin' mental break down. I keep seeing the faces of people I kill, having nightmares about killing them. Where was Luthor? NOT THERE!"
Dick roared in fury and pain. He hissed, "He doesn't care about me! Never has, never will. I'm nothing but a pawn to him, a tool. I'm disposable." Dick spat the word.
"I serve my purpose, do Luthor's dirty work and kill people, his own personal assassin who works for free. He doesn't care about what I feel, what I want. All that matters it what he wants. And Mercy? Yeah, she's a robot. Slade?" Dick snorted. "I'm nothing but a potential investment for the future and a source of money for training me and completing contracts. When I started contracts, he became a lot harsher. I have to call him 'master' now. Everyone else doesn't even know me by my name, only by my alter ego Renegade."
"I'm nothing to him but a pet on a leash he can set on people who have displeased him. I'm his prisoner. And now, I'm a liability. Even if I go back and swore I said nothing, there's always, to them, the chance I did say something. I know a lot about the criminal underground and what's going on thanks to Luthor. And me in enemy hands with what I know? They're going to terminate me."
"I'm a liability that needs to be taken out." Dick lets out a choked sob, tears finally starting to fall. "It's only a matter of time. They're gonna kill me. I'm going to die."
Dick's head titled to the side, and he became eerily calm again with strain present in his voice. "I'm going to die." He repeated. "And yet, I don't care. Luthor and Slade can kiss my ass. I don't care. Ever since my family died, I've been a prisoner. I've never been free. I'm a prisoner, even now when the so-called Justice League says they're giving me a second chance."
Dick gestured to the inhibitor collar around his neck. "I hate it. It's confining, binding, restricting. It suffocates me. I want to be free. I want to fly, like I did at the circus. I didn't ask for this, I don't want to be an assassin, or even to be a prisoner sentenced to death. Do you know how hard it is not to kill once you've been trained how to? Slade practically beat it into my soul. To kill is now my instinct."
"You-You can't save me. I know too much, and it's too late. I'm a dead man walking. I'm broken. I've killed people. I've stolen things. I'm a criminal." A pause, a sniffle, and a deep breath. "The thing is, I don't want to be. I want to be left alone. I want to make my own choices."
Dick missed being his mother's little Robin. He knew he couldn't go back to the circus, not after everything. "But I know that's not going to happen."
Dick sighed, and hiccupped. He sniffled. "Well, Doc, there you have it. The sob story of Richard John Grayson, the fearsome Renegade . . . I hate that name. I hate myself. I hate my life. I'm not a good person, I deserve to die. I just want it to end. I, oh god I-I just want it to end! Why can't people leave me alone?!"
Dick practically screamed again, on the verge of hysterics. He was panicking, and didn't know what to do. He cried. Unexpectedly, somebody approached him. That person approached him and hugged him, pulling him close. He cried as the person rocked him close, Dick curled at their side. He just wanted it to stop, he just wanted it to end.
Black Canary didn't know why she did it. Call it maternal instinct or whatever. Black Canary had come to the Mountain (It was four in the morning) because she had left some papers behind and got that feeling that that was where she should be, through some sense of intuition. As she was walking down the hall, she saw Renegade walk into the therapy waiting room, and later the therapy room itself.
Again, she doesn't know why she did it, just that she did. Black Canary watched Renegade. Something about him seemed different . . . and she wasn't talking about the fact that he was just in black sweat pants and a red t-shirt. He was wearing no mask, Black Canary realized with shock. She had tried so hard to get him to let his walls down, but he had kept them firmly in place.
She didn't even know his name. Bats had refused to tell the League. But there he was, and it looked like he was, crying? No, there were tears, but they weren't falling, not yet. He was holding them in. He shouldn't have to do that. Her heart broke. She leaned against the door, and listened with shock to everything he said. All of it were answers to the questions she had asked and more, but now that she knew the answers to the questions she was asking she wanted to take them back.
Her heart shattered with each word he said, and her compassion for the boy grew stronger. That's all he was, a boy. A boy who had seen too much for his age. No boy should not care about the fact that they know someone is going to kill them. And when he said he just wanted to be alone, to make his own choices, how he wanted to stop being a prisoner, and how he just wanted it to end, she felt moved by him, and wanted to murder Luthor and Deathstroke.
He was crying, and he was so strong. He shouldn't need to be so strong at his age. She moved to comfort him when he started crying at the end. Black Canary would admit, she had been treading on egg shells with Renegade, the trained assassin who nearly escaped the League. But now, she didn't care that he was an assassin trained by Deathstroke. Sitting next to him, she pulled him close to her and start rubbing circles on his back.
He was so small. Smaller than he should be at his age. He shouldn't have seen the things he's seen, faced the things he's faced. He was too young. Hatred, anger, and utter loathing for Lex Luthor and Deathstroke formed inside of her. He was too young, what made them think that a child, one who had just lost his parents, should start immediate training to be an assassin?
What kind of man took a grieving child in the first place just to be an assassin? How could that be the only reason Luthor took the boy in? Assassin training, beatings, and harsh words aren't what a grief stricken child needs, they need someone to be there for them, and no one was there for Rene-Richard.
"Richard." She said softly, testing the name.
The boy looked up at her. His eyes were an incredible blue. It wasn't a light blue, but a deep, rich dark blue.
"Dick." He choked out. Black Canary was startled, but he didn't say the name like an insult. "C-Call me Dick. R-Richard's too formal. Always h-has been. D-Dick's an old nick name for Richard."
Dinah could tell he was as shocked as she was the he told her that. "Well, Dick, it's nice too meet you. And Dick, I care about what happens to you."
Dinah had no idea why she said that. It felt right. To Dick, she reminded him a little bit of his mom. He hiccupped, and Dinah realized he was trembling and his hands were shaking. His eyes were red, and closing with sleep.
"Mm' mom used to call me Robin." Dick said sleepily. "She said I reminded her of a little Robin on the trapeze."
Now Dick really shocked himself. He had told no one since the day he left the circus about his mother's nick name for himl. He just felt compelled to, maybe it was all the countless therapy sessions with Black Canary. The very person who was holding him, he realized. Dick also came to the realization that he just didn't care. He closed his eyes, and gave into the urge to sleep.
Dinah sighed. She carried Dick to his room, holding him gently, trying not to wake him up. He didn't wake up, just shifted a little and mumbled a few words in his sleep when she put him on the bed.
The words sounded like, "Thanks, Aunt Dinah."
Startled that he knew her name, but not all that surprised (Dick was a hacker, and he was trained by Deathstroke and worked for Lex Luthor) she smiled softly and left the room. She then noticed the hole in the wall. She covered her mouth to stop from giggling, and looked at Dick in concern. It looked like he kicked it with his foot, but he was wearing no shoes. That must mean he kicked a hole in the wall barefoot. Ouch.
Huh. It looks like Batman again underestimated Rene-Dick's need to not be confined. Man, Renegade-Dick, wasn't kidding when he said he hated it. She left the room, and the door slid shut behind her. She left the Cave, forgetting about the papers that were the reason she came in the first place.
Review! I'd love to know what all of you think. Thanks again so much to Meridianpony.