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Chapter 27: A Breath of Fresh Air
"Where are you going?
Where are you going?
Can you take me with you?
For my hand is cold, and needs warmth
Where are you going?"
"By My Side," Godspell
For once it was a clear sunny day in Gotham. Bruce took the opportunity to sit out in the gardens at the Manor, enjoying the sunshine and the fresh air.
Bruce's condition hadn't improved in the past two months. As Dick had been recovering, so had Bruce, in his own way. No one was Batman, and for now that was all right. Every so often Bruce felt a tinge of anxiety that something would happen in Gotham, and that the villains would take over while no Batman was present, but the city had reached a stage of stagnation. For now, things were quiet.
If anything, Bruce felt guilty that his condition contributed to Dick's anxiety. But as the weeks passed, and Bruce watched Dick struggle to get back on his feet, he realized that his condition wasn't detrimental. In fact, he found that he could emphasize with Dick more than he thought he would be able to. Perhaps, sitting in this wheelchair, Bruce appeared less intimidating than usual. Broken. Human, of all things. Recovery was something they would go through together.
"Sir, I just received a call from Jump City," Alfred said. "Dick got to his friends safely."
"Thank you for letting me know, Alfred." Bruce sighed, breathing in the fresh air. It was nice not being in the Batcave. "I'm glad he's spending time with them."
"As am I, Sir." Alfred stood by Bruce, looking at the flowers Bruce was looking at. "I haven't seen you this relaxed in years. Thinking of early retirement?"
"I don't think so. There's a lot I could do. I'll be looking for a way out of this wheelchair, definitely, but it's not the end of the world if I never walk again. I've already made my peace with that."
"Do you believe Dick has?"
"I think so. I think he's realized that what happened to me wasn't his fault, and that he has more important things to worry about."
Getting Dick out of his shock was the most important thing, and considering how many mistakes Bruce had made, he supposed that things were going all right. Not great, never great, but better than he expected.
"I can't be Batman so long as I'm like this," Bruce said. "And Dick has to find himself again before he can do anything else."
"I'm worried about him," Alfred said. "Killing people changed him."
"I am too. It changes everyone." Bruce was certain he had inadvertently killed people during his run as Batman, and even though he hardly ever mentioned it they haunted him.
"Slade made him kill people. It was only natural that Dick eventually turned to kill him." Bruce hated saying it, but it was true. "I know most of who he killed. Slade at least took the liberty of choosing criminals as Dick's victims."
Slade was, Bruce grudgingly admitted, a clever man. He knew what he had to do to manipulate Dick, and Bruce could even see the arguments Slade could have made to convince Dick to kill people. And yet, even as Bruce followed Dick's spiral with despair, he also saw how Dick tried to do good in an impossible situation. Slade wasn't so heartless that he didn't stop Dick from abandoning children or innocent bystanders in a dangerous situation, and it was these trembling witnesses that left a trail for Bruce to follow. Bruce knew all this because he knew that he was capable of that kind of manipulation, and he hated himself for it.
"What are you trying to say? That the killings were justified?"
"No, Alfred. They aren't. What I'm trying to say is that Dick wasn't killing innocents. That can be a starting point for him."
"I see."
If Dick could remember what good he managed to do, and how this all started because he wanted to protect his friends, then perhaps he could find some peace of mind. And someday, so would Bruce.
It was with great hesitance that he walked alone through Jump City towards a hole-in-the-wall café that Dick was only vaguely familiar with.
Spending time with the Titans was less draining than it had been two months ago, but he still felt a great need to be by himself. Being alone had been a way of life for so long that the loneliness was comfortable.
Dick stopped outside the café and stared at Slade through the window. He couldn't tell if this was a terrible decision or not. But he knew that he had to finish things with Slade, and if he didn't make things were really over things would be complicated. After collecting his thoughts and taking a deep breath, Dick stepped inside.
"I'm surprised you called," Slade, looking up from his phone. "I thought you'd be spending time with the Titans, or whatever it is you do nowadays."
Everything about this was so familiar. Slade sitting there so nonchalant, having already ordered a cup of coffee for Dick, waiting for him to sit down.
"Thanks, but I'll get my own."
"You're going to waste a whole cup?"
"Stop it." Dick sat down and decided not to order anything. "We need to talk."
"About what?"
"Are we done?" Dick asked. "With…all of this?" Dick gestured aimlessly at Slade, not sure how to phrase his question.
Slade flipped his phone over and over, continuing to stare at Dick with his good eye. "You mean the apprenticeship."
"What else do I mean?"
"You don't have to play around with words. Just say it straight up. And anyway, a phone call would have sufficed."
"I'm not going to let you hide behind a phone." Slade wasn't the kind of person who disliked confrontation, but he only disliked confrontation when he didn't have the advantage. He knew that the Titans were only a phone call away. "I'm not going to stay long, anyway."
"Fine. What do you want to talk about?"
"Why did you save me from Bane?"
"The same reason why I pulled you back onto the rooftop in Jump," Slade replied. "We've worked together for so long that I'd hate to see you go like that."
Dick couldn't believe that he felt the same way. His emotions came in waves, and some days he felt like murdering Slade, while other days he felt that it was impossible. Right now, it felt impossible to do anything about Slade.
"Good." Dick threw some change on the table. "I'm done. We're done. I don't ever want to see you again."
"In our line of work it would be hard not to."
"You think I'm going back to your business? Or even my former one?"
"I don't think you'll be able to help yourself. It's all you know how to do."
Dick furrowed his brow. He shouldn't be doing this, shouldn't be talking to Slade, but he felt as though he needed to close this chapter on his life, or else it would haunt him forever.
"You just wanted someone to hang out with you. You just can't admit it." Dick looked away, tapping his finger on the coffee table. "I don't want to hurt you."
"You? Hurt me?"
"What are you, sad, Slade?" Dick threw his arms out. "You shouldn't have expected things to work out. It was never going to work. If I didn't want to work for you, then I wasn't going to do it my whole life."
"I think I realized that a couple years ago," Slade replied.
They sat in uneasy silence.
"What are you going to do now?" Dick asked.
"Go back to work, I suppose. Undo all that you did to destroy me." Slade shrugged. "It's all I know how to do."
"That's still no excuse for being a shitty person."
"I'm too old to change." Slade waved his hand dismissively. "Go on with your life, Dick. You don't need my permission."
"Don't say shit like that."
Slade held up a hand. "Let's not argue. There's nothing more I can teach you. Not if you don't want to learn."
"Wish you could have said that five years ago."
"What's done is done. Go back to the Titans. I won't stop you." Slade raised an eyebrow. "Nothing to say?"
"I'm done." Dick stood up. "If I ever catch you hurting someone else again, I'll kill you again."
"Understood."
"You don't understand. You're just saying that to placate me. But whatever. I'm leaving."
Dick turned and left, pushing open the door more forcefully than he should have.
A shiver ran down his spine as Dick realized why Slade had let him go so calmly. Slade had accomplished what he had gone out to achieve. With Slade's death, and by pretending to be Deathstroke, Dick had completed his apprenticeship. Even if Dick went back to the superhero business, there was no telling what he would do or how he would act.
The whole thing had come to its natural end. Even though Dick had killed Slade, their relationship had been spiraling down for years. As a young man, not a teenager, Dick could hold his own against Slade. It was only natural that Slade would train Dick so well that his demise was the only logical conclusion. In the end their parting was mutual, and perhaps inevitable.
Dick didn't know how to feel about that. He felt like they should leave on a different account, but he realized that he wouldn't have it any other way. As much as he hated Slade for all of the pain and suffering, Dick had never wanted Slade dead. If Slade had stayed dead, Dick didn't know if he could have lived with that.
Slade stayed to finish his coffee after Dick had left.
He had to admit that Dick looked a whole lot better than he had looked in the past year. While it was clear that he wasn't exercising as much as he should be, his temperament was a lot more agreeable. He didn't look so sickly anymore. Slade hadn't even realized that Dick looked sickly until they had spent some time away from each other.
Slade had to face the fact that Dick could be better off where he was now, and that he was no longer Dick's teacher.
If things had gone another way, then Slade would have considered going after Dick as his apprentice again. But, considering the fact that Dick had legitimately killed him, there was nothing to be done but step back and allow Dick to leave.
It was inevitable. Even a year ago Slade had realized that if Dick wanted to leave the villainous life, and if Slade didn't maneuver him correctly then he would have to let Dick leave. Of course, Slade had hoped that Dick wouldn't want to leave, but at this point Slade couldn't stop him. Even after all this time Slade had changed. If he tried to blackmail Dick he would murder Slade again. Slade's training had made sure of that.
Slade had trained his successor, and now Dick was out in the world. Aside from the fact that Slade could no longer control him, he had trained someone. Dick hadn't died in his battle with Bane. At the very least, Slade could say that Dick hadn't died yet, unlike Grant. This battle with Bane had proved that, despite the hiccups, Slade had given Dick the skills he needed to survive.
Even if Dick didn't want to admit it, he was a product of Slade's training, and would continue to be until the end of his days. He was a living, breathing example of what Slade could do, what Slade could have been. Dick would be out in the world, and through his actions he would be Slade's legacy, for better or for worse.
Dick's conversation with Slade left him in a bitter mood, though he wasn't as angry as he thought he'd be. He just felt drained, and when he thought about it he realized that he had always felt drained for the last five years.
Instead of going back into the Tower he puttered around the island base. He took out his box of cigarettes and chucked it into the ocean.
This wasn't how it was supposed to end.
Then again, he had done things he had never expected from himself. To defeat Slade he had to murder him. Even with Slade alive Dick wasn't certain he would ever get over that split-second decision to shoot Slade in the head.
"Dick? Is that you?"
Turning, he saw Starfire rounding around the corner. At that moment Dick was incredibly aware of himself, and how he appeared to the rest of the world. Everyone probably thought he was crazy.
When he looked at the world around him all he saw were the differences. Everyone else had grown older and wiser, more handsome and more beautiful, stronger and stronger, while he had wasted away.
"You are still here," Starfire said.
"Yeah, I'm still here."
"Did you have a nice trip into town?"
He shrugged, not wanting to admit who he had gone to see. "Jump's still full of bad memories for me."
"I see. If you wish, one of us could accompany you to the mall of shopping."
"That's OK." He ran a hand through his hair, wondering what to say to her. "I needed some time for myself."
"Are you certain that you are all right?"
If all he saw were the differences, and how the world had changed while he was away, then what did she see in him? He didn't want her to see his uncontrolled self, didn't want her to really know how he had killed people, and he felt like he could lose control at any second.
"Composed, sure," he replied, "but not all right."
"Do you wish to talk about it?"
"Not really." He glanced at her dirty clothes. "Gardening again?"
"Yes."
"I think I'll help you this time." Dick knelt to look at what she was doing. "Can you show me?"
He followed her back to her little vegetable patch, where flats of seedlings sat next to the wooden vegetable beds.
"I don't know anything about gardening," Dick said.
"Do not worry, I knew nothing as well. I learned."
"Well, I just moved the seedlings outside now that that the earth has warmed, and must transplant to the vegetable box." She took off her gloves and eased one of the seedlings from its box. "Take them out gently, and then massage the roots before placing them in the new soil. This will ease their transition into a new environment."
Dick dug his hands into the cool, wet earth. Like scooping the elephant poop, it felt good to do something with his hands. The work gave him something good to do, and at least he was doing something.
"Look at this one," he said, pulling out a seedling thick with roots. "It's tangled."
"It was not allowed to grow," Starfire replied, taking it from him. "It was too big for its pot, and it has become rootbound. You must be gentler when untangling the rootball. Now it is stressed, but in time it will grow."
He watched her work. There was a glow about her, an obvious happiness that was infectious. Working in the garden was something he had never expected to do, and then again he hadn't expected to do a lot of things in life.
"I'm not very good at this."
"You're doing fine."
"Maybe I'll be like Poison Ivy," Dick said. "Unnaturally good with plants. Maybe we'll join forces and I'll be one hammy villain."
Starfire smiled at him. "I am glad you came back."
"Me too."
She placed her hand over his and guided him. This simple touch, feeling her close warmth, soothed him more than anything. They looked at each other, their breath puffing out in white clouds in the early morning air. Yet again, Dick found himself doing something unexpected, something he hadn't expected from himself.
Killing people was something he had never thought himself capable of doing, but it had happened. After everything that had happened he felt surprised by nothing, but maybe, just maybe, he could still surprise himself.
He looked back up at the sky. It wouldn't rain today, but it would rain someday. Dark bags still hung under his eyes, and he had lost a bit of weight over the past two months. Something about not eating and not exercising as much as he used to.
"Do you plan to stay here long?" Starfire asked.
"As long as I need to."
"Would you like to help me? We have a lot of work to do." Starfire gestured to the rest of the raised beds. "Can you fix them? Perhaps build me a coop of the chickens?"
"You want chickens?"
She laughed. "It is not necessary. I am only doing the teasing."
"I don't guarantee that I'll build a very good chicken coop."
"I'm certain it shall be wonderful."
Dick smiled.
Perhaps Dick had to stop thinking about legacies. He was so certain that he'd fail someone that he didn't think about himself. Becoming Batman. Becoming Deathstroke. Those were not important. And then he had thought that, maybe, he could go back to the trapezes, just to be a Grayson once again.
But whether or not he could perform a quadruple flip, he was still a Grayson. His parents wouldn't have scolded him. They would have understood. He didn't need a legacy to be happy. He only needed his friends and what family he had made for himself. That, in itself, was the only legacy he ever needed.
Being only a shadow of his former self made him feel as though he could never go back to who he used to be. Maybe he couldn't, but he could try. Like the seeds they were planting, recovering would take time to grow.
It would take some time to rid himself of these toxic thoughts. His friends would be there for him, and slowly he would wash the blood off his hands.
He didn't know where he was going, and maybe for now that was for the best. If circumstances had been different, maybe he would have become something else, a hero disconnected from Batman and Slade. He had thought that that was something he wanted to do. But now he felt different. He just needed to find himself again.
With time, all would be well.
THE END
A/N: Hello friends, thank you so much for taking the time to read my fic, despite my terrible updating schedule. This is the last novel-length fic I'll be writing, and the last apprentice fic I'll do. I wasn't going to write another one, but then I felt like taking a new take on the story, an apprentice fic where Slade wasn't even present for the majority of the story, and loaded with uncertainty. I tried to make this one different, and I hope I succeeded, and I hope you enjoyed it. A few things before I go:
1. Please take the time to review the fic with both what you liked and what you didn't like. I'll respond to all reviews on the last chapter.
2. Anyone interested in any other projects I'm involved in, please visit my tumblr or blogspot.
Thank you again for reading.
-H
