Die a Hero

by J. B. Fawling

Robin is the Boy Wonder, Batman's protegee, member of the "Junior Justice League" and kickass superhero. Dick Grayson is the adopted son of billionaire Bruce Wayne, brother to four younger siblings, math whiz-kid, community service volunteer and all-around Golden Child. It's everything he ever wanted to be. Too bad he's also a liar, a thief and a secret mercenary-in-training.

50. Consequences

Content warning: There are many character deaths in this chapter, but they're all minor characters. However, the death at the end of the chapter is a very important one, so be warned. And yeah, that character is really dead. No punches pulled. Also content warning for Dick being completely caught in Slade's mind-fucking and constantly being on the verge of a breakdown.

I'm back :) I have been wrestling with these plot threads for months and I finally untangled them. Chronologically, this chapter takes place over the course of about ten months and mostly focuses on Dick and Slade's very healthy relationship that's definitely based on mutual respect (wink)

Thank you so much to everyone who voted in the polls, it was so helpful to know what you guys wanted to see! The polls will stay up for the next chapter, there's still time to vote for things you want to see. Also, a huge thank you to everyone who left a review on the last chapter, your support motivates me so much and I really appreciate it.

Another short note, I've noticed that email updates aren't being sent out for this story. I will continue to post the new chapters both here and on AO3 so definitely consider checking it out over there if you're not getting alerts about updates.

I think that's everything. Enjoy!

---

Dick Grayson

Vandal Savage's Island Fortress

---

Stepping through Klarion's portal isn't anything like what I was expecting. My skin feels a little warmer and the hairs on my arm are standing up like static electricity but it doesn't hurt. It's a lot like the zeta beam, only without the blinding flash of light.

I don't know where the portal took us but Slade is already pulling off his blood-soaked gloves and dropping them down on a high table against the wall. He's got his mask off too and that's a sign that wherever we are, he feels secure enough to let his guard down. My stomach turns over at the thought; just a few minutes ago, we were fighting for our lives. And now Ocean Master is dying and there's no way to know if they'll get there in time to save him but they came. Did they get my message? Or did they just get lucky?

Either way, Ocean Master has a chance. And that could be really, really bad if he survives and wants revenge, but that doesn't stop me from desperately holding onto the fact that he could survive. That I didn't help Slade murder someone today.

Slade finishes pulling off his bloodiest gear and straightens.

"Leave your gear here," he says and I'm a little too shaken to tell if it's a suggestion or an order, "It'll be cleaned by the time we're ready to go."

"Where are we?"

My voice is hoarse.

"This is one of Savage's bases," Slade answers.

Savage's base?!

Like the base where my team was taken prisoner and almost died?! When the League barely got there in time to get us out?

"You haven't been here before," Slade's hand lands on my shoulder before I can say anything, "We're safe here. Take a deep breath. It's over."

I try to breathe but my brain is spinning so fast it doesn't make a difference.

"Where's everyone else?"

"It's a magic portal," a nasally voice cuts in and my instincts kick into overdrive; I whirl around, grabbing my bo staff and holding it out between me and the enemy that just appeared out of nowhere. Klarion eyes the weapon with amusement and my chest tightens because he took me and Artemis out with a single bolt of lightning the last time we fought and now that the adrenaline is wearing off, I can feel how much the fight wore me out. "Not everyone goes to the same place."

"Relax," Slade orders, squeezing my arm and using the opening to pull the bo staff out of my hands, "We're guests, Richard."

"Please, make yourselves at home," Vandal Savage sweeps out his arms in welcome.

I hesitate.

"Take your gear off," Slade orders and as much as the idea of disarming myself in front of enemies this dangerous is horrible, my heart is still pounding with adrenaline and the image of Ocean Master's corpse—no, his body, he's still alive—lying in a pool of blood won't leave my head and I can't think straight, so following Slade's lead seems like the best of all the terrible options. I pull off all my weapons and my gloves and chest armor, leaving only the undershirt.

My fingers reach for my mask and I freeze. Slade is speaking quietly to Savage and Klarion and none of them are paying any attention to me. I don't want to take my mask off; I don't want them knowing who I am. Robin's identity could be used to figure out Batman's identity and there's so many people who could get hurt if that happens.

But I'm not Robin anymore. And the old instincts are… old. I don't need to protect my identity anymore. It's not a secret. The Light already knows exactly who Renegade is. The entire world knows.

Besides, there's mud and dirt and blood on my face and my skin is swollen where Ocean Master's trident split it open and the mask itches like crazy. And Slade took his mask off pretty much the second we got here.

I take a deep breath and pull my mask off.

None of them so much as look over.

Slade puts his hand on my back when I walk over and something in my stomach loosens at the contact. We did it. He's alive and I'm alive and I don't have to swear myself to Ra's al Ghul.

"Quite an impressive showing, from the both of you," Savage says.

"You know I don't play games unless I'm sure that I'll win," Slade answers. Savage looks amused by that and he turns his attention to me. I swallow, keeping my posture straight as he looks me up and down.

I'm not here as an enemy. Slade is his new ally, and Renegade is Deathstroke's apprentice and that means we're on the same side. But it's still a shock when Savage holds out his hand to me.

"Renegade, my name is Vandal Savage," he introduces himself and I blink because… yes? I know? This is so far from the first time we've ever met that it just takes me a couple seconds to be able to move.

"I know," I finally answer but it would definitely be rude to snub him so I shake his hand anyways.

"I've heard quite a lot about you, it is a pleasure to finally meet you. And even more so to see you in action. This was long awaited and yet, well worth the anticipation."

Savage turns back to Slade when he says, "Your boy more than exceeded my expectations."

"I told you, he's exceptionally talented."

I blink. Slade told Savage about me? He said that I was exceptional?

"You mentioned he was stubborn as well. I take it that you've managed to overcome that particular obstacle?"

I flinch but Slade hums and his hand never leaves my back.

"I never said his stubbornness was a bad thing. As you saw for yourself."

"Indeed I did."

My stomach twists and I look at the wall. I'd rather be anywhere else in the world than here but the universe hates me and instead of getting us out of here, Slade lets Savage drag him into a conversation and half an hour later, the only change is that the three of them have sat down while I'm stuck standing behind Slade's chair.

And just because that doesn't suck nearly enough, Klarion won't stop staring at me. It takes all the self-control I have not to turn away or duck behind Slade because I'm supposed to stand behind him like a statue and not draw any attention to myself if I want to hear what they're talking about. But Klarion staring at me doesn't count; it's not like I did anything. He's just freaking me out and Slade is focused on whatever Savage is saying and neither of them are paying any attention to the fact that Klarion is still staring at me like I'm the most interesting thing in the world and it's freaking me out.

At least when Ra's stared at me in the arena, I knew what he wanted. What the hell does Klarion want with me? Why does this keep happening?

"Make him do something," Klarion says suddenly, completely interrupting Savage and utterly derailing the conversation as Slade blinks.

"Excuse me?" Slade asks; his expression doesn't change but there's a biting edge to his voice. Klarion ignores that obvious warning and waves a hand at me.

"Give him an order or whatever, I want to see it."

A bizarre expression flashes across Slade's face, something in between bafflement and anger and I only barely notice it through the dizzying feeling of my stomach dropping through the floor in terror. For a second, the entire world stands still.

There's nothing but the manic grin stretched across Klarion's wraithlike face and Slade's icy cold stare and I'm caught dead in the middle.

Why does… why the hell does he want that?

Vandal Savage clears his throat and the spell breaks. He raises an eyebrow at the Lord of Chaos and that's all it takes for him to slouch back in his chair, the greedy expression replaced with a pout.

"Apologies for the interruption," Savage smooths over and Slade accepts the chance to move on without hesitation.

The meeting doesn't last much longer, but by the time one of Savage's followers (read: servants) shows up to lead us to a large suite, I'm so exhausted that I'm barely staying on my feet. Slade shuts the door in the man's face, puts a hand on my shoulder, and turns me towards the door to the left.

"There's a shower in your room, go get yourself cleaned up."

"…okay."

The bag I packed back in New York is still sitting on the bed after almost an hour of letting scalding hot water pour over my head. All my stuff is still in there, including the iPod.

I stare at it numbly.

The League came. That can't be a coincidence. Wally got the package I sent him and he found the things I've sent. That means there's no pretending anymore; anything I send, they will see.

I take a deep breath and the sound echoes through the room.

Slade told me there's no more chances. If he finds out about this… then that's it. I'm dead. But I think about the terror on Jason's face, the sound of his voice breaking when he screamed at me to stop, how hot the muzzle burned when I blasted a hole through Ocean Master's chest.

The iPod is the only reason I don't have Orm's blood on my hands right now. He's alive. He has to be alive. The League was in time, they got there, they have to have been in time to save him.

If it wasn't for the iPod, I'd be a murderer right now. And this is just the beginning; Slade is a member of the Light now. He's working with Vandal Savage and Ra's al Ghul and Lex Luthor and he made promises to them about me. The things he's going to… the things we're going to do are only going to get worse.

This is a risk that I have to take.

Slade is sitting at the table when I come out of my room and he's surrounded by stacks of papers and folders. The only clear spot at the table is a bowl with some kind of stew in it that he waves me to.

"You should eat."

When I don't move, he looks up and the corner of his mouth tugs up into a tiny smile, "I already tested it, it's not poisoned."

"Did you eat?" I ask as I sit down. He changed out of his gear but he's still wearing workout clothes, which means he's not planning to let his guard down anytime soon.

"I'll eat later," he answers, scanning through the papers in his hands, "I need to get through this first."

"What is it?"

"It's the Light."

I raise an eyebrow at him.

"You realize that's the least helpful answer you could have possibly given me, right?"

"Everything that the Light is is on these pages," Slade counters, "Every plan, every resource, every action and ally, they're all here."

I drop my fork and sit up straighter, suddenly a lot more interested in the papers.

"I already told you that this is one of Savage's bases. For now, it's just him and Klarion, but the rest of the Light will be here in two days for a meeting."

"And you need to be up to speed by then?"

"Precisely."

I reach for the pile and Slade doesn't do more than glance up from the pages he's reading. The piece of paper on top is an overview of the synthetic variant on Kobra Venom. Half the document is in French and most of the rest of it is numbers and stats and names, but it's the overview of everything the Light has done to have it developed. There's pages and pages on the benchmarks in developments which is full of complicated biochemistry that I don't understand at all, but "incident at distribution plant; external interference resulted in the loss of 90% of the stock. Subsequent batch less potent" looks familiar. External interference is a nice way to say my team helped Bane kick Kobra out of his factory and blew up all the vials we could get our hands on. There are also a few pages on testing, most of which are in very complicated French that I can't understand, but I can read the part that says they've been distributing it to interested parties for field testing. And the worse news is that I recognize one of the names; Sean Cohen is the mob boss who hired Slade to track down a missing shipment. Was he working for the Light when Slade and I did that job for him? It ends with the Brain's assessment of "Promising technology with significant drawbacks. Unsatisfactory transformation, insufficient power rating overall."

The thought of Kobra Venom being considered "insufficient" is terrifying. It turned Mammoth into a monstrous heavy-hitter and can transform any kind of animal into a deadly killing machine.

But there's another note at the end, lamenting that Bane has been uncooperative with the supply rights to his Venom and that Kobra has promised a much more satisfactory drug within the year.

I frown.

Cheshire told me that Kobra was one of the others the Light wanted as a replacement for Ocean Master. Is he angry that the Light picked Slade over him?

I put the papers on Kobra Venom down and look at the rest of the stack. There's a blue folder that's thicker than all the others and the only word I can read off the label is "Current." My instincts haven't been super helpful lately but as soon as I see it, I know that I can save a lot of lives if the League finds out what's in that folder.

I reach for the blue folder.

Slade's hand flies out of nowhere and slams down on the cover the second my hand touches it.

"Not these," Slade orders sternly.

"What? Why not?"

"Read the others," Slade completely ignores my question, "But you will not touch these, or look at them, or make any attempt to find out what's inside. Do you understand?"

He taps the folder with his fingertips and I scowl. I'm not stupid enough to disobey a direct order, especially not when Slade is smart enough to know why I want to see it. So I curl my hands into fists and take a deep breath, ignoring how fast my heart starts pounding.

"What will it take for you to let me read them?"

The withering look Slade shoots me with makes my stomach drop.

"When you ask questions like that, not a damn thing. Have I made myself clear?"

I clench my teeth, looking down at the table while my face burns.

"Yes sir," I mutter.

---

I stay up reading as late as Slade will let me, but the third time I nearly fall asleep on the table, Slade pushes me towards my room. My head is swimming with everything I've read in the Light's files and there's so many things that click into place about all the things the League and my team dealt with since the Light began but there's still so many things I don't know and I don't have enough information to be able to guess what they're planning. And after what Slade said, there's no way in hell he's going to let me find out.

Between all the new information swirling around in my head and the insane trial we went through today, I expect that it's going to be a long night. Instead, I fall asleep pretty much the second my head hits the pillow and wake up to sunlight streaming in through the windows.

Being guests in Vandal Savage's private fortress isn't any less weird in the daylight. Slade is still sitting at the table reading and the fact that he changed clothes is the only indication that he hasn't been sitting there all night. He doesn't acknowledge me when I sit back down and keep reading.

It's a pretty quiet day. Slade drags us outside after about an hour for a short training session, mostly to make sure I haven't been hiding any injuries. It feels good to move and it feels even better to get some fresh air after all the insanity of the last twenty-four hours. I have absolutely no idea where Savage's base is but it's a beautiful day and there's blue sky and sprawling cliffsides all around us that frame the ocean on the other side and all I can think is that this would be an incredible spot for a vacation if it wasn't for literally everything else about this place.

The sparring session is easy and relaxing and Slade actually goes easy on me for once. But it can't last forever. It's way too soon that Savage appears on the sidelines of the training grounds and asks for a minute of Slade's time. Slade waves his hand and tells me to go back to the room before he and Savage disappear.

---

It turns into a really unpleasant pattern. Savage shows up and drags Slade away, leaving me stuck by myself in our rooms. After the fourth time it happens in two days, I can't stand the thought of reading any more of the Light's files so instead I do maintenance on our weapons.

I'm about halfway done when there's a crackling sound behind me, so soft I can barely hear it, but I've been on-edge for the entire time we've been here and there's no way I'm ignoring anything that sets off my internal alarms. Klarion is grinning gleefully at me with his familiar Teekl perched lazily on his shoulders.

I swallow and take a step backwards. It's only a few feet to the nearest window; do I break it and jump out or do I wait to find out what he wants?

All my instincts are screaming at me to run but those are Robin's instincts; Klarion is Slade's ally and despite how boring he finds the Light's politics, he's been careful not to step over the lines. Of course, that's with Savage there to keep him under control. So what the hell does he want now?

Klarion takes in the room, his eyes lighting up when he sees the piles of weapons on the table that I was just cleaning, before his red irises land on me.

"You're not supposed to be in here," my voice is steady and I'm trying as hard as I can not to think about how badly the bolt of lightning hurt when he took me and Artemis out of the fight with a single blast.

Klarion blows a raspberry and kicks over one of the chairs at the table so it's upside down with the edge of the seat and top of the backrest on the floor with all four legs sticking up in the air. Then he plops himself down, balancing on top of it somehow in a way that somehow looks extremely lazy and stupidly uncomfortable.

"I never liked rules," he says flippantly, "Besides, you know how long I've been waiting for old Deathstroke to leave you by your lonesome?"

My heart stops.

"What do you want with me?"

My comm link is on the table next to the bed, I just have to get across the room and Slade will be here in an instant. But Klarion just laughs.

"Relax, brat! We're friends now, aren't we?"

Trying to take a breath feels like swallowing a mouthful of knives.

"I think I missed that memo," I answer through clenched teeth, "Tell me what you want or get out."

Teekl lets out a mrowl and Klarion nods.

"He is so impatient," the Lord of Chaos agrees.

The familiar makes another sound and Klarion scoffs, "I'm not impatient, he is. What do you know?!"

Teekl's apparently had enough of Klarion because the familiar jumps off his shoulders and settles on the window sill in direct sunlight. Huh. Apparently even demon cats are still cats where it counts. I guess you learn something new every day, even when you're probably about to die in a gruesome and horrible way.

"Ugh, be that way," Klarion scowls before turning his attention back to me, "Anyways, all this planning and rules and negotiations is so boring. You're much more interesting. There's just so much to you than meets the eye, isn't there?"

His eyes light up with that same unearthly glow and the hunger in his words feels like someone dumped a bucket of ice water over my head. I shiver.

"I…" I start but my voice cuts out and it takes me another try to get the words out, "I'm Deathstroke's apprentice. He made me everything I am."

"Oh we both know that's not true. Is it, Robin?"

My eyes fly open as my jaw drops and terror pulses through my lungs.

"I don't know what you're talking about," I deny and Klarion just rolls his eyes.

"Nth dimensional being, kid, I see everything at a level far beyond your puny comprehension. Besides, I remember what a pain in my ass you are. You and all your little friends. All you brats do is make trouble."

There's a manic gleam in his eyes and red electricity crackles between his fingertips and I can't breathe. He knows. He knows that I'm Robin, he knows who I am, and now he's threatening my friends and Slade's not here and he can blast me into ash before I even take a single step towards my earpiece.

"That's why I have a soft spot for you little brats."

My head snaps up. Klarion is watching me with the same insane smile on his face but his gaze is faraway and fond like he's lost in happy memories.

"After all, trouble is what I do."

I swallow. My head is buzzing and the world is spinning and my face feels hot and suddenly I realize I forgot to breathe. Klarion seems to enjoy the sight of me gaping like a fish because he just watches as I try to pull air back into my lungs and brace against the wall for balance.

"You're not going to kill me?"

"Kill you?!" Klarion laughs like it's the funniest thing he's ever heard in his life, "You're the best thing that's happened around here in the history of this lousy planet!"

"What?"

Klarion stands up and all the light in the room gets sucked away as he stalks towards me.

"Do you have any idea," he starts, every step bringing him closer into my space and making the room colder as the smile on his face gets bigger and more terrifying, "what you being here is doing to the balance of the universe?"

"The balance of the universe? What are you talking about?"

"You." Klarion reaches out and flicks my nose and I can't move even though it burns, "Robin. Nightwing. Agent 37. The Bat. Dick. Grayson."

Every word lands in my ears like a pounding drumbeat and the names resonate deep in my chest, so deep that I know there's something wrong happening here. They're all me. Every name he's just said is me but there's names that haven't happened yet and I already forget every word he's said except "Robin." I literally can't remember them and it's terrifying to try to chase the thoughts down as they slip through the cracks like grains of sand.

"You're a multiversal constant. You're supposed to be the one they can always trust. A true hero, through and through. The universe needs you to be," Klarion sneers, cruel amusement in every word, "But here you are, a slave at Deathstroke's side, jumping to his every command even though every fiber of your being defies it. Do you have any idea the kind of Chaos you're causing?"

Horror floods my stomach and it fills my lungs and I can't breathe and my hands are shaking and my legs are numb and I feel sick and I… can't remember why. Klarion is watching me and he seems disappointed by something.

Teekl meows and Klarion frowns.

"Oh, right. Forbidden knowledge."

"What's forbidden knowledge?" And why am I suddenly so sure he's not going to skewer me or turn me inside-out or blast me into a pile of ashes with just a snap of his fingers?

"Your puny mind isn't meant for the forces beyond your comprehension. I bet you've already forgotten everything I just said, haven't you?"

What did he just say? I know it was something that scared me and made me feel sick because my friends were in danger and—

"You know. Who I…"

"Yeah, yeah, Robin, the Bat's brat, all that stuff. Booooooring."

I swallow, forcing my hands into fists.

"Are you going to tell Savage?"

Klarion blinks and the look on his face is pure confusion.

"Why would I do that?"

What? He's not going to tell anyone?

Klarion blows a raspberry.

"And ruin my fun?"

"Then why work with the Light at all?"

"That's a fun question," Klarion's eyes light up and he threads his fingers together as he leans forward, "Do you know what it feels like when seven billion people think they're about to die, all at once? When Superman was about to kill the entire planet, for a second there was nothing in the entire world but panic. It was pure Chaos."

He leans back, somehow still balancing on the chair.

"I can wipe out a civilization with the snap of my fingers, but I can't bring a planet to a halt on my own. When the Light's plans are through to completion, I'll have the entire universe in the palm of my hand. And you, Robin, you're going to help."

With a snap of his fingers, he and Teekl disappear in a blaze of red light.

---

"What happened?" Slade asks. It took him approximately three seconds to realize something was wrong.

"Klarion," I choke out.

"He was in here?"

I can't answer so instead I nod. The look on Slade's face turns ice cold and I freeze up as he storms across the room, grabbing my arms to hold me in place while he checks me for any signs of damage.

"Did he hurt you?"

"No. He just…" my voice cuts off as I frown. Why was Klarion here? I can't remember. "He was here."

The stern look on Slade's face morphs into sheer fury in a terrifying instant. His hands dig into my arms so tightly that I can feel the bruises forming but when he's this angry the only thing I can do is wait; at least he's not angry at me.

"Get all your things together. We're leaving as soon as the meeting is over tomorrow."

"What about this stuff?" I gesture to the piles of paper that we've spent the last two days on. Slade shakes his head.

"All documentation remains on the island. As a security precaution."

I look at the stack that Slade wouldn't let me touch and my fingers itch. Slade being on the Light doesn't do me any good if I don't know what they're planning and there's no way Slade is going to let anything slip if he doesn't want me to know it.

Screw Savage; of course he's got multiple private islands to hide his secrets on.

---

There's an unpleasant surprise waiting for us in the room where the Light's meeting will take place. I guess it's not really a surprise. But it is unpleasant.

"'It's been a long time since he's seen another person,'" Luthor quotes, swirling amber liquid around a short glass, "'And most of the time, he's in his cell.'"

Luthor takes a slow sip before leisurely setting down his drink. And only after he's done all that, he turns around to face us like he has all the time in the world. There's an amused expression on his face, but there's something darker underneath it.

"You lied to me, Wilson. Or you lied to everyone else, and that isn't really Wayne's brat."

Slade crosses his arms over his chest.

"Who says I lied?" he counters and Lex sneers.

"I suppose I should congratulate you. After all, you have the spot on the Light you've always coveted."

"You didn't support my nomination," Slade answers in the same tone.

Mercy doesn't look phased in the slightest at the fact that Slade and Luthor are caught in a stare-down, an entire conversation happening entirely through thinly veiled threats and glowers. When this is over, assuming Slade doesn't actually murder Luthor and that Luthor doesn't attempt to kill us, I'm asking her for notes.

"I hope that you've taught the brat some manners," Luthor sneers as he stands up and crosses the distance between us. He reaches out to grab my chin again and my hands immediately go to my bo staff. But Slade is faster; my eyes lock onto the hand signal he's giving me, the one that means "hold at all costs." I freeze, grinding my teeth and forcing myself not to move and keeping my eyes pinned on Slade so I don't have to see Luthor's face or think about the fact that his fingers are digging into my chin and as long as Slade is holding the signal there's nothing I can do except hold still and let Luthor do whatever he wants.

"He does have permission to defend himself," Slade comments offhandedly. "I suggest you take your hands off him before my patience runs out."

With a huff, Luthor steps back and Slade drops the signal. I shoot Luthor the nastiest glare I can manage and slink backwards until I'm back at Slade's side, just behind him and firmly out of reach if Luthor decides to do that again.

"At least you've clearly taught him his place," Luthor sneers.

The stare down ends with the arrival of the Brain and Monseiur Mallah squeezing himself through the door behind him. Slade and Luthor nod at each other and move to take their seats and I take my spot just behind Slade. Mercy and Mallah are both doing the same thing. Ra's is the next one to arrive with Ubu trailing him, and it's only a few minutes before Queen Bee enters. For a second, it looks like she came alone.

And then Psimon walks through the door. Because obviously this meeting needs to have someone capable of reading minds and brainwashing people.

Savage and Klarion come in last and Savage begins by clearing his throat.

"My apologies," Savage says, "But as agreed, this is a conversation for members only."

I stiffen, and I'm not the only one. The scowl on Ubu's face could melt steel, Mercy looks like she just ate something sour and Mallah lets out a furious growl that shakes the room. I take a step towards Slade; even with the sheer number of dangerous people in this room, an angry gorilla is the last thing I want to deal with.

Queen Bee snaps her fingers at Psimon and commands, "Out."

Psimon inclines his head graciously. Or at least, in a very convincing mockery of it.

"Yes, your majesty," he says easily before heading for the door. I sneak a glance at Slade, desperate that he's going to step in and insist that I stay, but if the blue folder is any hint, there's no way he's going to let me stay for the next part. And sure enough, he narrows his eye and tilts his head at the door; it's as clear an order as any and in a room full of the seven most dangerous supervillains on the entire planet and their most loyal companions, it would be literal suicide not to obey. So I take a deep breath and follow Psimon out of the room, praying that no one can see how badly I'm shaking or how terrifying it is to turn my exposed back to a room full of people that could kill me in a heartbeat.

One by one, the others follow us out. Mercy, then Mallah, and finally Ubu.

"Ahem," Luthor says loudly enough that I can hear it outside.

"Teekl doesn't count!" Klarion retorts.

"We had an agreement," Savage reminds him. There's a loud cursing sound and Klarion mutters something that's clearly unhappy even though it's too quiet to hear, and then Teekl comes trotting out the door, which slams shut behind the demon cat.

I stare at the closed door and my brain spins in circles so fast it gives me vertigo. Luthor's right-hand-cyborg-bodyguard stands on my right, while Ra's al Ghul's most loyal servant is on my left. A six-hundred-pound gorilla is behind me, with demon cat capable of ripping a person limb-from-limb flicking her tail unhappily as she stares at the door.

And to top it all off, the supervillain that wiped my entire team's brain is watching us all with a smirk.

"Not a word," Mallah growls at Psimon before he can say anything.

In some ways, this has been the weirdest weekend of my life. Slade and I fought a man to the death, before portalling to a supervillain's secret island fortress, and now Slade is in a top-secret meeting with the six most powerful and evil people on the planet. In other ways, there's nothing weird about it. Because of course I got stuck in the absolute worst situation I can possibly imagine.

While Psimon and Mallah are glaring at each other, Mercy rolls her eyes and sits on one of the couches. She pulls out her PDA and starts tapping away.

I can't help but stare.

"Do you get service here?" I ask, dumbfounded.

"Nope," she answers casually.

"Then what are you doing?" Ubu asks gruffly.

"Tetris."

"What is Tetris?" Ra's's bodyguard asks. She turns the screen around so he can see and after a couple minutes, hands it to him to let him have a try. I blink.

Okay. That's… sure. Why not?

Psimon and Mallah are still having their silent stare down but there's something weird about it; they're still silently staring at each other, but they're clearly having a conversation. Is this what it looks like to use the mindlink?

Weird.

I'm tired of standing and somehow everything is calm, so I make my way over to a different couch and sit. Teekl stops licking herself and trots over before jumping up on the cushion next to me. I tense, trying to hold still not to aggravate the demonic creature, but the next thing I know, Teekl jumps onto my lap and curls up.

I stare down at her, my heart beating in terror, but after about thirty seconds there's a soft, rumbling rhythm coming from the cat. Who is fast asleep on my lap. For a second, it reminds me so much of being back at the manor with Selina's cat Luna sleeping on top of me that I reach out carefully and run my hands along Teekl's fur. The cat-shaped demonic entity lets out a soft murmur and tilts her head up so I can scratch under her chin and that settles it.

This is the single weirdest thing that has ever happened to me.

Waiting for the meeting to finish is the weirdest and most surreal two hours of my life. Psimon and Mallah pulled a chess set out of somewhere and are clearly continuing their silent conversation as they play, while Ubu plays Tetris almost the entire time. Mercy takes out a second device and alternates between that and giving Ubu pointers. Teekl stays asleep on my lap the entire time and I don't know what it says about my insane life that petting an insanely soft demon cat is actually calming enough to get me through this insanity.

After almost two hours of calm and quiet, Teekl's head snaps up and she jumps off my lap to go perch on top of the tallest chair. The chess board disappears and Ubu tosses Mercy back her PDA, and both devices vanish into the pockets of her suit jacket. I take the cue to stand up and move over to the wall, in a defensible position where I'll be able to see the entire room and everyone in it (where Slade probably expected me to be the whole time). When the door opens a minute later, the Light finds six people—or more accurately three people, one cyborg lady, a gorilla and a demon cat— caught in a hostile stalemate with no sign of the disturbingly peaceful atmosphere of the last two hours.

Ubu immediately moves to Ra's's side and snarls at Mercy when she walks past him to make her way to Luthor. Teekl vaults over Mallah, leaving long claw marks in his fur as she pounces onto Klarion's shoulders. Instead of calling me to him, Slade comes to stand by me and puts a hand on my shoulder, squeezing once in what's probably supposed to be a comforting gesture, or an apology for what he just put me through. I barely notice it though. I'm too distracted by Mercy winking at me from the other side of the room.

"Let's go," Slade says, and without looking back, he heads for the hallway towards the hangar where the jet is waiting to take us back to New York. There's nothing to do except follow him.

---

Bruce Wayne

Wayne Manor

Saturday, June 29th, 2013

---

Sophie Devereaux paused when she walked into the room, turning to look pointedly at Nate Ford.

"That's Superman."

Nate turned to look at Bruce, and Bruce could see the gears turning in the mastermind's head.

"You have the Justice League involved?" he asked Selina.

"I called in some favors," Selina said, inspecting her nails as if they were claws, "A lot of them."

Nate watched her carefully, before nodding and leaning forward, tapping the end of his pen against the table in front of him. The tiny sliver of Bruce's mind that wasn't dominated by finding his son was impressed that the man took in half the Justice League sitting around the table in stride.

"Right," he said, "So here's the deal. Wilson has a contact in the CIA. We don't know who it is yet, but Hardison is working on that."

The hacker started talking as soon as Nate finished.

"Okay, so everything is extremely classified, like 'either you have situation room clearance or you're about to be very dead' level classified. But we found a paper trail. And you're not going to like this."

"Like what."

"Officially, legally binding-ly, Wilson's working as a deep cover operative," Alec Hardison said, "The reason your boys at the GCPD got stonewalled by the FBI by the CIA? Everything Wilson's done was sanctioned by the government and if he fulfills the terms of their agreement, yadda yadda contractual bullshit, he gets complete immunity."

"No." An icy hand squeezed Bruce's chest, "No!"

"So here's what we're going to do about that," Nate interrupted. "Deals like this, they're top secret and usually happen as back-room agreements with one very important and powerful person on the other side. We are going to find our very powerful CIA friend, and we are going to ruin him. We are going to utterly destroy him. Because if even saying his name is career suicide, whatever deals he has will be poison. That deal is Wilson's lifeline. We're going to steal it."

"How do you steal a deal?" the Flash demanded.

"It's not going to be easy," Nate said, "This guy isn't the kind of person we go after. We can't just ruin his reputation or bankrupt him; I mean, just to get anywhere near him is going to take months."

"But you can do it?" Bruce demanded.

"You have my word. We are going to destroy this bastard and your son… he's going to come home."

For the first time in a long time, Bruce felt hope.

"How long do you think it's going to take?"

Nate frowned. He and Elliot looked at each other, and a silent conversation passed between them. Nate's eyes narrowed and Elliot shook his head. Nate scowled and Elliot shook his head again, looking at Sophie. Sophie sighed, putting a hand on Nate's arm.

"Minimum eight months. Minimum," Nate finally said. An icy grip seized Bruce's chest at the thought of leaving Dick in Wilson's hands for so long, "But we only get one chance. The entire job has to be perfect, that means we go slow and steady—no shortcuts, no jumping the gun. It could be a lot longer than that."

"Mr. Wayne," Sophie said softly, "I know this is hard to hear."

"Better to lose one year with him than all of 'em," Elliot finished.

"There has to be another way," Superman shook his head.

"There are high security detention facilities on Atlantis and Themyscira. Even the League has the capability to hold prisoners long term," Wonder Woman added.

"A.R.G.U.S. shut down the Pipeline years ago, but it wouldn't be too difficult to get it running again," the Flash added.

"There are options. The Justice League could launch a full assault, capture Deathstroke, and hold him while your team takes care of his allies."

"Oh, they'd love that," Nate shook his head, "Superman's PR stunt—no offense— still has a stranglehold on the world's media, and you don't have to be a conman to see that there's a lot of money keeping that story going. Imagine what Wilson's allies could do with the Justice League holding a high-profile individual in their secret prison without a trial."

"So what?! We just have to wait?"

"If you can pull out a miracle and pull the kid out, do it. But mark my words, if you go after Wilson while he still has this deal, he will walk."

Bruce took a deep breath and tried to ignore the look Selina was giving him. She put her hand on his arm and he exhaled.

"We can't count on a miracle," Bruce said. He thought about the exhaustion on his son's face, the heartbroken, 'I know you hate me' that could only have been the work of Wilson's manipulation, "It doesn't matter if we can get him back, this will never be over until we get that bastard. If we don't, Wilson will be back and we all know it."

"We won't stop trying," Wonder Woman promised.

"Neither will I," Bruce swore, "No matter what it takes, Dick is coming home."

---

Selina Kyle

Gotham City

Monday, July 1st, 2013

---

Selina rolled down the window, beckoning him with one crooked finger.

"Get in."

"What, Wayne couldn't make it himself?" the man spat, but he climbed into the passenger's seat of the car anyways.

"You and I need to talk."

"One rogue to another?"

"Something like that," Selina's mouth twisted to the side. She passed him a manila folder clutched between two manicured fingers. Arthur Brown took the folder and opened it, spilling the files into his lap. "I'm here to offer you a choice."

"What? Wayne's offering me money to disappear?"

"Read the damn folder."

Brown glanced through the papers and the scowl on his face deepened.

"That condescending shithead thinks he can—"

"Stephanie is a great kid," Selina cut him off, "She's going to have a great life and be surrounded by people who love her and treat her the way she deserves. It's up to you if you're going to be one of them."

"I did what I had to."

"Oh please, spare me the crap," Selina snapped, "You chose crime, it's not my fault you weren't better at it."

"You don't understand anything."

"Of course I do. This is a pride thing, you want to get back everything that was taken from you, prove that you're just as capable, you're just as good at taking care of her as he is, get revenge on Wilson for framing you. You'll have a lot to unpack in your therapy sessions. But here's the deal. Bruce is a better man than you. Because if Stephanie told him that she wanted to go with you and never see him again, he'd let her. He would help her. And if she'd told him the opposite, that she never wanted to see you again, you would never be able to step foot on the same hemisphere. But you're lucky, Arthur. She wants to give you a chance to be a part of her life. Do not waste it because you're too proud to accept that a man with billions of dollars at his disposal can give her a better life than two-bit lowlife who's spent his life scraping by."

Brown fumed next to her, a furious scowl crossing his face.

"What does that have to do with Wayne flaunting his goddamn money around?"

"You don't understand what he's doing for you!" Selina snapped, her temper finally giving out, "He's found you a home close enough that you can visit Stephanie whenever she wants to see you, he's already enrolled you in Wayne Enterprises' Clean Slate initiative and has a dozen placement counselors ready to match you to a job so you can actually fucking support yourself instead of wasting your brain on second-rate puzzle themed break-ins. He wants to make this transition as easy as possible for you."

"Well, I don't trust it. What does he want?"

"He wants what's best for Stephanie. And believe it or not, he sympathizes with your situation. He wants to help you, Arthur."

"Why does he give a shit about me?"

"Because he knows what you're going through."

"Bullshit," Brown spat. He shrunk back under the glare Selina shot him.

"Wilson took his kid from him too," she growled, changing lanes more aggressively than she probably should have, "But here's the thing. I am not Bruce. And I am not going to let those kids go through anything else. So, if you're willing to do the work to be the kind of parent Stephanie deserves, Bruce will support you every step of the way. But if this is just about your wounded pride and getting revenge, well… Batman may have a code, but I sure as hell don't."

Arthur let out a frustrated huff. Then he said, "She's my kid. I'm not losing any more time with her."

"You don't have to. She wants you in her life but she thinks that means it's either you or them. She thinks you're going to make her pick. I will only warn you once, Brown. Do not. EVER. Put her in that situation. Do you understand?"

It was a long time before he answered. Selina could feel the fury and simmering resentment radiating off the man but he'd clearly understood the message. Finally, he sighed.

"Tell me about this Clean Slate thing," he said, "How would it work?"

---

Conner Kent

Mount Justice

Sunday, July 6th, 2013

---

"Kaldur? Can I talk to you?"

"Of course, my friend," the team leader responded gravely, sensing from Conner's tone that something wasn't right.

"Not here. Can we go somewhere private?"

Kaldur thought for a second and then offered, "I believe the rest of the team is occupied with training demonstrations, we may find privacy in our rooms."

Conner nodded. He'd been planning to take Kaldur out with Sphere and go somewhere far outside a Kryptonian's earshot, but the bedrooms were a way better idea. The cavernous walls naturally muffled a lot of the sound, and the extra privacy filters the League's magic users had added made sure that not even Superman could overhear what was going on in the next room.

Kaldur led him down the hallway away from the kitchen, heading for the long corridor that housed each team member's rooms and all the many, many spare rooms.

Conner reached for the door to his room, then hesitated. Cameron had been ecstatic about the idea of sharing a room, so they'd added an extra bed to Conner's room and moved all of Cameron's stuff in a few days after they'd come back from Kansas.

M'gann had been a little disappointed when he told her (mostly because it would get in the way of their make out sessions), but Cameron's sheer excitement was so overwhelming that she warmed up to the idea quickly. And then Cameron had pointed out that M'gann still had her own room, which was hilarious, even if Clark had been appalled (at Cameron for suggesting it, and at Conner for the fact that it was true).

All of this meant that Cameron might walk in at any time, and the last thing Conner wanted was for his twin to overhear any of what he needed to say.

Kaldur's room was a few doors down the hall, but there was just as much of a chance of Roy walking in and Conner really didn't think his problem would go over well with the former unwilling mole either.

"Can we…" Conner trailed off, looking around. There was another door a little further down the hall that Conner couldn't remember anyone ever going in or out of. He pointed at it and said, "C'mon."

Kaldur followed him as Conner pushed open the door to the unused bedroom. He closed the door behind the Atlantean and took a deep breath, trying to figure out exactly how to explain without his teammate thinking he'd lost his mind.

And then he froze, ice filling his lungs.

The room looked unused. The bed was perfectly neat with plain white sheets tucked into perfect corners without a wrinkle in sight, there was no art on the walls, there were no colorful rugs or beanbag chairs or lava lamps, no painted constellations decorating the ceiling. But there was a green sweatshirt draped over the chair in front of the desk, a discarded domino mask and tinted sunglasses lying haphazardly on top of the desk. The closet door was ajar and Conner couldn't tear his eyes away from the spare pieces for a uniform, extra clothes in case they had to stay the night unexpectedly or travel to an extreme climate or just wanted to ditch training to go to the beach.

This was Dick's room.

"Shit," Conner swore.

For a long time, neither of them spoke. Regret and bitter pain filled in the air and weighed them both down.

"I wish he told us," Conner admitted heavily. Kaldur's mouth pinched into a thin line as his hands tightened into fists.

"I believe I finally understand what a burden it was for M'gann and Wally to grapple with such knowledge, to say nothing of Dick's suffering. No part of this situation was easy or simple. And yet, I still cannot help but wonder what might have gone differently if we could have faced him as a team."

Conner took a deep breath and let it out

"There's nothing we can do about what's already happened, but I don't want to make the same mistake."

Conner's hand reached into his pocket and he drew out the case with the shields. He held it out to Kaldur, who tried to take it out of Conner's grip. Conner held on tighter for a second before letting out a sharp exhale and prying his fingers off.

"What are these?"

"They're called shields. When I put them on, I get dosed with some kind of chemical. I get stronger, faster, I can fly, have heat vision, everything Superman can do. But I… it's Matchstick."

"The chemical that Cadmus developed by experimenting on Flamebird?"

Conner frowned, nodding sharply.

"I see," Kaldur said quietly. But he didn't say anything else, clearly waiting for Conner to continue.

"I know they're dangerous. I know that using them is a bad idea. But… I am so sick of being helpless, Kal. Dick was right there, I had him, and if Cam hadn't stopped me, Dick wouldn't have disappeared again. I know I can't trust anything from Luthor, and I don't trust him. Believe me, I don't. But I understand what these are. I get what it does to me and I think… it's worth the risk. I want to keep them, just in case there's ever a fight that I have to win and I won't be able to on my own."

Kaldur still didn't say anything and Conner finished with, "I trust you, Kal. If you tell me to get rid of them, then that's that. But I am being careful."

He waited nervously for the Team's leader to make a decision, feeling flustered and anxious in a way he wasn't used to. He wanted so badly to grab the shields out of the Atlantean's hand and pretend this whole conversation had never happened, but it had to be done.

"And when you run out?" Kaldur asked carefully; from the way his forehead creased and his eyes narrowed, Conner knew he'd figured out the biggest problem.

"In Luthor's perfect world, I'll be hooked on them by then. I'll agree to whatever terms he sets if it means I can be strong whenever I want."

"Who else knows about them?" Kaldur asked.

"Just you," Conner answered, "I think Cam is getting suspicious, he knows something wasn't right but he's not sure what. I don't want to lie to him and I don't want to hurt him but I haven't decided what to do yet."

Kaldur exhaled like the weight of the world was on his shoulders and Conner hated the fact that he'd dropped this on him.

"My friend, I deeply appreciate that you came to me with this. But I do not think it is wise for you to keep using these."

Conner tensed but Kaldur wasn't done.

"Luthor is not a trustworthy man. Whatever his reasons were for giving you devices capable of increasing your power, we cannot be sure that he has not altered them in some way that will cause you harm."

A sharp retort was on the tip of his tongue but Conner bit the words back; he'd had that exact same thought and it was part of the reason he'd convinced himself to come forward. But that didn't make the bitter pill any easier to swallow.

And then Kaldur kept talking.

"Would you be open to allowing the League to analyze them? Luthor has found some mechanism by which your dormant powers can be awakened, and perhaps some of the League's partners may be able to understand how they work so the results can be replicated without the adverse effects. We will not know until we try, but it may be possible for you to reach your fullest power capabilities without having to rely on Luthor or trust that he has not done anything else to these… shields, you said?"

Conner nodded in response to the question, but his head was spinning. He'd been so freaked out about anyone finding out that he'd gotten the shields, he hadn't even considered trying to recreate them. Luthor wanted a chemical that would make Superboy a more dangerous weapon, it wasn't that crazy to think he'd pushed his scientists to make Matchstick as addictive as possible.

He'd read Luthor's files that day the Team had helped him break into Luthor's office. They'd believed Match was the perfect weapon, right up until they realized that the genomorphs couldn't control him at all. Conner had gotten better at fighting off mental control; Dubbilex had insisted on familiarizing Conner with all the tricks the genomorphs were capable of and both M'gann and J'onn had helped him practice pushing invading forces out of his mind. But with Matchstick running through him? If he was as furious and out of control as Cameron had been those first few months out of Cadmus? He'd be handing himself back to Luthor on a silver platter.

"We will not allow that to happen," Kaldur promised as if he knew exactly what Conner was thinking.

The room went silent. Conner tried not to look at the domino mask lying on the desk, but he couldn't tear his eyes away.

"Keep one," the Team's leader decided after a very long pause. "There may come a situation where you truly have no other options. And I am trusting you to use it wisely. As for the rest, give them to me. I will speak the League about beginning research efforts into understanding how they work so that we may find a better alternative."

Kaldur handed him back the case and it felt lighter in Conner's hand. Conner nodded at his friend, feeling the rock in his chest slowly loosen.

"Thank you, Kaldur."

Kaldur returned the gesture with a sad smile.

"Be careful, my friend."

"I will," Conner promised, and he meant it. But he felt freer than he had in a long time, and infinitely less scared. Kaldur trusted him. The team had his back and he didn't have to worry about doing everything alone. But now, if it ever came down to it, Conner could do what he needed to do without carrying all the responsibility for it on his own.

---

Dick Grayson

New York

Month: July

---

I open the case and my stomach drops through the floor. For a few seconds, I can't breathe. I can only stare down at the case and try not to drop dead from the way my heart is trying to beat through the wall of my chest.

"No."

"No?" Slade repeats like the word is completely foreign to him. I can feel myself shaking and there's nothing I can do to stop it.

"You said… you promised I wouldn't have to... you said not until I'm eighteen."

"I'm not making you kill anyone, Richard. All weapons are just tools, and you will learn to master this one. Do you understand?"

"And what if I say no?"

"Then that's a choice that will have consequences," Slade warns.

I look down at the open case sitting on the table and a vein of ice runs through my stomach. I can't tell if I want to throw up because of the way the room is starting to spin or the phantom pain from every time I've been shot or grazed, or if it's nausea from the bloody memory of the thousands of gunshot wounds I've seen in the field, or if it's the horror of breaking the promise I made Batman the day he agreed to let me be his Robin.

My hands are trembling and my chest is so tight I can't breathe and I can't take my eyes off the gun resting in the case.

Renegade's uniform has always had a gun holster. Slade has been planning this since the beginning.

"You know as well as I do that Wilson will make you a killer."

Ra's was right. Slade promised that he wouldn't make me kill anyone until I'm eighteen, but one way or another, he's going to turn me into a murderer.

"Pick it up, Richard," Slade's voice is quiet but there's no way to soften the order. I don't move. I don't speak. And I definitely don't move my hand any closer to the pistol.

"It's not going to bite you," Slade says calmly. If this was anything else, I know he'd be making fun of me but right now I can hear how much restraint he's putting into his voice. He knows how desperately I don't want to do this and he's trying to… this is him trying to be gentle.

"No."

I force the word out through dry lips and it's impossible to fight back the rush of fear from disobeying an order. Slade doesn't answer, but his face twitches and I force myself to look away before I can figure out what it is.

"I'll take the consequences," I say. There's a horrible jumble of emotions in my throat; terror at whatever punishment I'm about to bring down on myself, nausea from just being near a gun, anger and guilt at myself for disobeying an order, but there's a tiny little knot in the center of my chest that's relieved. He can do whatever he wants to me—and he will—but even after everything, I don't want to do this. And I'm not giving in yet. "You can't… you can't make me do this."

"Richard…" Slade starts, taking a step towards me with one arm outstretched. I jerk backwards before he can get close enough to touch me.

After months of isolation, of not being able to talk to anyone or go anywhere or do anything but sit on the computer taking boring classes or run on the treadmill, and the weeks after that on the run and constantly having my guard up, the part of me that misses everything and everyone has gotten desperate. Like how back in Schitt's Creek, the mayor's wife tousled my hair once and I started crying on the spot. That was awkward and embarrassing and it's terrifying how close that moment came to ruining everything.

And it's like Slade knows. No, not like he knows, it feels like he did this to me on purpose. Because where he used to be careful not to put so much as a finger on me outside of training, now he touches me all the time.

Nothing weird, but now he pats me on the shoulder and messes up my hair and puts a hand on my back and treats my injuries after training instead of just letting me walk everything off. And every single time he does, it's like the part of me that hates him just shuts off and whatever fight I have left just… dies.

"Don't touch me," I wish I had it in me to spit the words, but they come out as a plea.

"This is nothing you haven't already done," Slade reminds me in a voice that's calm and steady, "You begged me to come on a contract; you shot a deer without a single word of protest."

I flinch at the reminder of the fake hunting trip that ended with Slade forcing me to hold him at gunpoint and my stomach flips over at the memory of how desperate I was to gain even a tiny bit of Slade's trust.

"It wasn't loaded," I protest. Slade gives me a pitying smile.

"You didn't know that," he reminds me. He takes another step forward and I take a matching step backwards. He reaches for the gun, picking the weapon up easily and turning it over in his hands. My stomach plummets through the floor and my heart starts beating a trillion beats a minute.

"I said no," I repeat, terror pounding through my arms and all the way down into my palms. "If you're going to hurt me, just get it over with."

For a second, Slade doesn't move. He just holds the gun in front of him and watches me silently. Finally, he takes a step toward me and I force myself not to jerk backwards. Mostly because I'm already next to the wall and I don't have anywhere left to run.

Slade reaches out and puts a hand on my forearm, squeezing gently. I shudder as the knot in my stomach loosens and I know that I couldn't pull myself away even if my life depended on it.

"I'm not going to hurt you, Richard," he promises and I can feel tears pricking at the corners of my eyes because I know he's telling the truth and we both know he's going to get what he wants. His other hand rises to cup the back of my head and gentle fingers press against the back of my skull and it feels so good and the voice in the back of my head that screams that this is just another manipulation tactic shuts up so fast it gives me whiplash. "I know you had to try to resist, it's alright. You're so strong and I'm proud of you. But you can do this."

He reaches down to wrap my fingers around the grip and keeps his own fingers curled around my hand. With the hand on my shoulder, he guides me forward until we're both standing at the edge of the target range.

I feel numb, like my head is buzzing so loudly I can't do anything but take in whatever is in front of me.

"Ready stance," Slade orders, and my feet shift automatically. He raises my arms and I look down the sight as soon as it comes into my vision, lining up the barrel with the target at the far end of the room just like Bruce taught me. Bruce hates guns. He's a really good shot, though. He taught me that hatred can't be an excuse for fear, just like he taught me how to shoot and disassemble a gun and everything I ever needed to know about gun safety.

"Fire."

The crack isn't as loud as I was expecting. I look down at the gun to see if it has a silencer and when I do, I realize Slade isn't on top of me anymore. And then I realize there are earmuffs over my ears.

I turn around and see Slade standing behind me, arms crossed over his chest.

"Hold," he orders, and my arms lock up, the gun pointed firmly at the ground with my finger far away from the trigger. I hold my breath as Slade walks to the end of the range and examines the single hole I made in the target.

He nods approvingly, but he doesn't say anything. Instead, he slowly walks back down the range until he's right in front of me.

"Very good, Richard," he praises, nothing in his voice but warmth and pride. The breath I was holding rushes out, my shoulders sagging as a tsunami of relief crashes over me. I start to relax, but Slade's hand grabs my wrist to stop me from putting the gun down completely. "Not yet."

I look up at him, heart pounding with confusion.

"Hold," he repeats. I raise the gun a little bit, grabbing it with my other hand in the safety position Bruce taught me. Slade nods when I look up at him. "Just like that. You're going to stay right there until you relax."

I blink.

"I don't… I don't understand."

"That's alright, you don't have to. Just hold."

---

Month: August

---

I frown when Slade parks the car in a sandy parking lot that is absolutely nowhere near the airport.

"I thought we were leaving town today?"

"I am," Slade comments, pulling the keys out of the ignition and climbing out of the car. "You've got another assignment."

My stomach drops.

"What?!" I demand. Slade doesn't answer and I scramble out of the car to follow him. "Slade! You said you wouldn't drop shit on me like this anymore!"

"Language," Slade reprimands.

"Tell me what we're doing here."

Slade passes me a backpack that's heavier than it has any right to be. I glance inside and see pretty much my entire arsenal plus Renegade's uniform.

"I've agreed to loan you out to a crew," he says.

"A crew? Like… like thieves?"

"Don't look so shocked, I did warn you I might," Slade says like it's not a problem at all that he went behind my back again after promising he wouldn't. "They needed some muscle, although I'm sure they'll find your skills with a computer useful. And it will be good for you to put them to use."

He finally turns around to see that I've stopped walking.

"You said you wouldn't do this anymore," I spit out through clenched teeth, squeezing my hands into fists in an attempt not to completely lose control.

"Do what, Richard?" Slade asks in a frosty voice. But underneath the irritation, there's real confusion.

"What do you mean, 'do what?'?! You said I would get a say in the jobs I do!"

"You agreed to come on this contract," Slade reminds me coldly.

"For the meeting with your client!" I snap, "And the… the contract, when you actually do it. I didn't agree to anything else."

"If memory serves," Slade interrupts, "I also said that failure to obey me would be punished."

A shiver runs from the back of my neck all the way down my spine. The beach is bright and hot and sunny but suddenly I feel freezing cold while my mouth goes dry.

"Slade, please," I dig my fingers into the straps of the backpack so they don't shake, "You said you wouldn't keep me in the dark anymore. I trusted you when you said that."

Slade pauses, turning around to look at me instead of just walking away and expecting me to keep up.

"I thought you would enjoy this," Slade admits. "It was meant to be a surprise."

"Oh."

"I intended for you to seek out your contact as a test, but I think at this point, that would be unwise. I'll introduce you."

It's all I can do to nod, because Slade seems to think the matter is settled and he's… he's right? He organized this because he thought I'd have fun so I should at least find out what he's planning before I try to dig my heels in.

Slade leads me down the beachfront until we reach an enormous pier. There's a man standing by the railing doing magic tricks.

"Him? Really?"

"Watch," is all Slade says.

The man's hands fly over the cups, doing the same tired "find the ball" game where the trick is that he's already gotten rid of the ball before you guess. Except the ball is there when he pulls the cup away and the guy who guessed lets out a cheer, his friends slapping his back in celebration. And as the man pockets his winnings and his friends clamber to put their money down on the table for the next game, every single one of them shows the pickpocket exactly where their wallets are and how much is in them.

By the time the group walks away, the man has retrieved all the money he'd given out and liberated all the cash they'd brought without them noticing. And every single lift was so clean I could barely see him do them. Not even Selina could do better.

The man notices Slade and me standing by the pier and raises a hand in greeting.

"That's my cue?" I ask.

"One last thing," Slade says. He passes me a cell phone and my heart stops.

"Are you serious?"

"I expect an update every other day, and keep this with you at all times. Do not make me regret entrusting you with this device."

"I won't," I promise.

"Enjoy yourself. Learn as much as you can; your pickpocketing skills needs work and there's no one better at sleight of hand. I'll see you in a few days."

---

M'gann M'orzz

Saturday, August 24th, 2013

---

"We're in position," M'gann reported over the comms.

"Good," Aqualad answered, "It may be quite a while before the target emerges. We will send for replacements if either of you need a break."

"We'll be fine. But thank you," M'gann said firmly.

"Good luck."

The comm line went quiet and M'gann let out a breath.

"I don't know how he could ever trust me again after what we did," she said quietly.

"He's really trying," Wally answered in a voice that was just as soft.

"Do we even deserve it?" M'gann asked. Wally looked away, his arms crossing over his stomach tightly.

"I don't know."

The street below them was quiet, and there was no sign of movement in the building across the street. There probably wouldn't be for hours; this had the potential to be a very long stakeout.

"I can't stop thinking about S.T.A.R. labs," Wally said after a long pause. M'gann stiffened. "Robin's comm went dead and I was so terrified and then when I found him, Deathstroke had him by the throat, I thought he was dead."

Panic spilled out of Wally's voice even all these months later, and the memory was projecting itself so forcefully against M'gann's mind that she couldn't avoid it. The image was crystal clear even as panic and terror and rage colored the memory; Robin hanging helplessly from the mercenary's grip, fingers digging into his throat and his face flushing bright red from lack of air. The taunting sound of Deathstroke's voice as he turned to face Wally, his grip never loosening for an instant.

M'gann's stomach rolled with nausea and she forced herself to break the mental connection so strongly that even Wally could feel the mental recoil as she snapped herself out.

"Sorry," he muttered.

"It's not your fault."

Wally let out a puff of air in response to that.

"I just wish there was some way to talk to him," Wally said bitterly. His face twisted with grief and M'gann's heart throbbed with the clear effort it was taking her friend not to cry. "He thinks we hate him. He thinks Bruce hates him. I just… I just wish there was some way to tell him that what happened with Jason wasn't his fault."

M'gann closed her eyes at the wave of sadness that washed over her. Of course he'd think attacking his younger brother was his own fault, but she'd been there. She'd gotten a tiny glimpse into his mind and that was more than enough to hear the desperation and confusion and terror swirling around inside his brain. He'd been holding on to a single thread of sanity and it wasn't until the team had finished debriefing that M'gann realized she'd heard the single phrase repeating over and over in his mind like it was playing on a loop.

Do his job. Keep them safe.

It didn't take a genius to figure out that Deathstroke had threatened them and everything Dick had done that night in the warehouse had been to protect them. And then he'd bolted out of the warehouse at Deathstroke's all-clear (Cameron and Conner both confirmed that with their super-hearing). It wasn't surprising that without the single thread holding him together, Dick's sanity had snapped. Horrible, yes. But not surprising.

Jason had defended his brother with every single breath, not that anyone disagreed. But Dick had no way of knowing that. It really wasn't a surprise that he thought they would blame him.

M'gann stopped suddenly.

Dick thought they hated him. Wally was absolutely positive about that. But how could he possibly know what Dick was thinking unless…

"Wait," M'gann breathed, her heart pounding with shock. Wally met her eyes in confusion that quickly turned to pure guilt and he raised his hands defensively.

"Meg, it's not…"

"There's more, isn't there?" she asked. But it really wasn't a question at all, "Something you're hiding."

"I never said that," Wally denied as fervently as he could and before M'gann could be outraged that after all this, he was still keeping secrets, he added, "But if there was, I promise you I would've told Batman."

That stopped her cold.

M'gann took a deep breath and exhaled as slowly as she could. Wally held her eye contact and she could practically hear him begging her to trust his word.

"You would've told Batman?" she asked slowly.

"It would've been the first thing I did. If there was anything that Dick sent me, I would've handed it off to Batman and let him decide how to handle it. I promise."

There was nothing but truth in the words and M'gann slowly let the rush of anger drain away. Wally looked relieved when she nodded, her eyes closed again.

"He's doing something stupid, isn't he?"

Wally took a heavy breath.

"He's going to get himself killed."

"No," M'gann said. Then again, louder, "No. We're not going to let that happen. We are going to find him and we are going to put an end to this once and for all."

"That's what we thought last time."

"It doesn't matter how many times it takes. We are not going to give up. Ever."

Wally opened his mouth to say something, but something in the distance caught his attention.

"Hang on, I see movement."

M'gann turned to look and sure enough there was someone emerging from the building down below.

"That's our guy," Wally confirmed.

Miss Martian shifted to her camouflage suit and nodded, all business.

"Let's move."

---

Dick Grayson

Month: September

---

"Heads up, Ren, the package is headed your way," Black Spider reports over the comms and I look down to see the armored truck turning up the secluded street. It's a dark and quiet night, especially for a usually busy city, and there's nobody around.

There's a big banner hanging over the street and I reach down for my birdarangs to cut it down. Except there aren't any birdarangs anymore; there's just the gun holster at my waist. I hesitate.

I've never taken my gun out in the field before, except when Slade wants to intimidate a target. But the throwing stars he gave me aren't good enough for this kind of distance and this late at night, there's absolutely nobody around. And I've never had a chance to prove that I'm a good shot outside of the range.

Besides, the truck is almost at the end of the street and if we're going to hit it quietly, we need to do it now.

So I pull out my gun and line up my sights; I pull the trigger twice. The recoil feels stronger than it does on the range but the silencer works even better out in the open and the bullets snap through the ropes like they were never there. Adrenaline beats through my chest as gravity pulls the banner down and a sudden screeching sound rips through the night as the truck driver slams the breaks.

"Go!" Cheshire orders. I'm already moving. The banner is covering the windshield and the security guards have no chance to stop me when I leap off the building and slide down a lamppost to the street. I roll underneath the truck, trading my gun for one of my knives and slashing the powerline to the engine underneath the belly of the truck.

It's not going anywhere without power.

By the time I roll out from underneath the truck, Black Spider and Cheshire have taken out the security guards in the cab. Cheshire waves me towards the back and I throw the doors open, hurling a knife to pin the first guard against the wall of the truck bed.

Cheshire darts through the opening and her sais slash through the air. She takes out the two guards holding assault rifles while I grapple the last guard and throw him out of the truck.

In the span of two minutes, the truck is stopped and all six of the security guards are out cold. Black Spider gathers them together and ties them up, leaving them in the empty truck bed while Cheshire cracks open the wooden crate and digs around inside it. She pulls out the priceless amulet and brushes the straw off of it with the back of her hand before stowing it into a bag and tossing the whole thing to me.

"We good?" Black Spider asks. I nod. He splits off to go draw attention on the other side of the city while Cheshire and I head for the rooftops.

The rendezvous isn't close but we still make it to the drop-off early. Waiting makes me antsy, especially when the first sirens go off and the flashing blue, white and red lights start flying through the streets. There's no way to know if that's just Black Spider doing his job or if they know we robbed the truck.

Cheshire is staring down from the low retaining wall on top of the building, looking completely at ease as the wind flows through her hair. The bag at my waist is burning a hole in my side and I can't resist the urge to look in it. She glances over when I take the amulet out of the bag but doesn't say anything.

The amulet looks exactly like it does in the pictures; the gold is a little more tarnished but the ornamentation around the edges is beautiful, and the whole thing seems like it's glowing. But that's probably coming from the deep red gem set into the center of the piece.

The amulet is a focusing point for mystical energies and I have absolutely no idea what Klarion wants with it, but there's no way it's anything good. But if it's going to be stolen, it's better that I can tell the League exactly where it is and who has it than let it fall into unknown hands, right? At least that way they'll know what they're up against.

I put the amulet away and let the bag fall back against my waist before sitting on the ground with my head against the wall.

For a few minutes, it's quiet.

"That was a nice shot," Jade says out of nowhere. I stiffen.

"You were watching?"

"I'm always watching. That's what Shadows do," Jade reminds me. When she turns around, she has her mask off and it's hypnotizing to see Artemis's eyes staring back at me. "You seem like you're getting more comfortable with it."

I don't know if she means the gun or just… everything about all of this. But it doesn't change the answer.

"I guess."

"The longer you do it, the more familiar it all gets," Jade nods.

"Yeah," I agree. My fingers tap along the barrel of my holstered gun and the lines carved into the sides are familiar patterns. The grip sits comfortably in my hand now and the weight isn't a surprise anymore.

"Just don't get too comfortable," Jade warns and that's all I get before she slips her mask back on.

---

Month: October

---

The gentle rock and sway should make it easier to fall asleep, but even with the bone-deep exhaustion and the constant chirp of insects and frogs outside, sleep won't come. I try, I really do, but I've been lying here for hours and I'm no closer to falling asleep, so I finally give in and open my eyes.

The houseboat is small, small enough that I'm laid out on the couch with a clear view of where Slade is sitting on the bed, disassembled weapons strewn out on the covers while he cleans them. He doesn't pause his work or look at me or do anything else that would give away the fact that he knows I'm watching him.

I frown.

We did the full maintenance routine before we arrived in Los Angeles, and then again before I headed out for my half of the job. The rifle I used to shoot Diaz in the shoulder (I clipped him, it was a perfect shot and Detective Espinoza let slip that the doctors believe he'll have full mobility again with less than a year of P.T.) is long gone, lost somewhere deep in the catacombs of the LAPD's evidence archives. Other than that, the only weapons Slade used on this job were his sword and a single handgun. There's no reason for him to have half our armory laid out in pieces in front of him.

I don't need to sleep very much anymore and Slade needs even less sleep than I do. But he's been up for nearly two days at this point and he doesn't seem to be planning to shut his eye any time soon.

Slade lets out a sigh and then walks over to sit on the couch. I press myself against the cushions to make room for him. His hand lands in my hair and for a few seconds, he doesn't say anything.

"I'm the one that made a deal with the devil," I try to turn it into a joke but even to my ears, it falls flat, "So why can't you sleep?"

"The next time you want to do something that stupid," Slade says, and then his hand closes around my chin and he turns my head up so I'm looking him straight in the eye, "Don't."

I snort, reaching up to brush his hand away. He shakes my head with the grip on my chin before releasing me and the motion is nothing but exasperation and amusement that he's trying so hard to pretend is anger but I can see straight through him.

"It was your idea to use me as bait," I remind him. Slade doesn't answer. The blanket is way too thin for Seattle this time of year but Slade's leg is warm and he doesn't move as I press closer. His hand settles on my head again and I close my eyes, breathing steadily as the cold fear in my chest finally starts to melt.

"Does it help to know?" I ask even though I know I shouldn't. He wants to be furious at the risk I took, but he believes me that I knew what I was doing. And I did. The mission was a success even though the LAPD got way closer than they ever should have because I had enough control over the situation to get Slade the opening he needed. And the information I got out of it…

"That my dead son isn't in Hell?" Slade's voice is ice cold and as hard as a rock and I know that it isn't because he's mad at me. It's because he refuses to do anything with his emotions except squash them down into a box and never let them back out. Slade's grip on my shoulder tightens as he squeezes harder and harder and I bite my tongue to stop the gasp of pain from coming out because it's written all over his face how badly he needs something to ground him. But suddenly Slade looks down and he lets go of me like he didn't realize he'd been touching my shoulder at all.

"Go to sleep, kid."

I keep my eyes closed so he can keep pretending I don't see how much he's hurting.

"Only if you do."

"Richard—"

"You get crabby when you haven't slept in three days, I don't want to deal with that," I cut him off, trying to sound as grumpy as I can but I'm holding my breath because if Slade doesn't want to do something, there's only so far he'll ever let me push him and I've already taken way too many risks in the last three days.

The hand in my hair falls still.

"Alright," Slade finally agrees.

---

Month: November

---

"Renegade, report status."

"Still nothing," I answer, stifling a yawn as I lean on the concrete railing overlooking the city below. I hate stakeouts, and I especially hate stakeouts on my own. I guess I'm not really on my own, Slade has been watching from his post for the last few hours just like I have, except instead of being on top of a building, he's watching from across the target's office.

I shouldn't be complaining. He's the one that has to do all the work, all I have to do is sit and watch the back side of the building to make sure no one's trying to get in or out or there's no one coming to backup the target.

But I'm tired. And not just from the stakeout. This is the tenth job this month and even though none of them have been contracts, it's exhausting. Slade's been dragging me from safehouse to safehouse, hotels and motels and rental cars all blurring together between the endless briefings and surveillance runs in between constant training sessions and trips to gun ranges and debriefings, and between all of that I've lost track of how many mainframes I've hacked or security teams Slade and I have taken on and I can barely remember all the things I've stolen in the past few weeks.

I'm losing track of time. It feels like a million years ago that I was trapped in the apartment, counting up the days like it actually mattered. Every day is long, but the weeks have been flying by it's kind of terrifying how long it's been since that conversation in the diner. I don't understand how it's already been months.

Part of it is the schedule. Slade usually keeps us to a strict routine and that makes it hard to separate one day from the others. Every morning I wake up before six, we spar, then breakfast and an hour or so of free time before my classes start, or if it's the weekend there's usually a briefing packet, and then we work for most of the day. Sometimes we break for lunch, but usually I don't see him until we're at the range. Thinking about the fact that I spend about an hour at the shooting range every single day makes me nauseous, but at this point I've spent so many hours with a gun in my hand, shooting at paper targets that there's nothing terrifying about it anymore. Honestly—not that I will EVER admit this to Slade—I kind of like it. It's not the worst way to blow off some steam every day and my aim is really getting better.

The days we spend on jobs are always different, but the one thing they have in common is they're all exhausting. I'm exhausted and I hate that I don't hate it more. I've been trying to keep Wally updated, to tell him everything we've been up to but we've been so busy that I barely have time to pick up my iPod, and even less to get some time away from Slade. But even more than that, it doesn't feel like it matters. Yes, Slade has dragged me from one job to another for the last three weeks, but none of it is important. We've stolen data here, tracked imports and smuggled for a mob there, but it's all odd jobs.

Even though he won't tell me when the meetings happen, I know Slade hasn't been in contact with the Light much. I know they're planning things, he explained everything about what was going on right know; all their plans that relied on Ocean Master need to be rewritten, their goals reworked, their pawns sorted to ensure that there's no unwanted upheaval from Deathstroke's appointment. But Slade has been sending me on odd jobs for them and he's started dropping hints that something big is happening soon.

"Renegade, what is your status?"

I blink.

"All clear, sir," I repeat, trying to keep the confusion out of my voice. I try to hold it back, but I'm exhausted and my feet are killing me and my back hurts and the bruises on my chest and back make it really uncomfortable to lean against the wall to take the weight off, so I can't quite stop myself from adding, "Like I just told you."

Slade snorts. I can hear it loud and clear even if I have no idea why he's laughing instead of getting annoyed at me.

"Head back to the safehouse," he says. I stiffen, my back straightening in alarm.

"Is something wrong?"

"You're exhausted," Slade answers without a hint of annoyance in his voice, "I can handle the recon from here but I want you sharp for tomorrow. Understood?"

"Are you sure?" I ask, "You've been up longer than I have."

"I appreciate the offer but it's not needed. Go back to the safehouse."

"Yes sir," I answer gratefully.

---

Month: December

---

There's a choked gurgle and muffled thrashing before gunshots ring out, three in rapid succession. I hear a thump as the target falls to the ground and I tighten my grip on my bo staff to steady myself. On the other side of the thick oak doors, Slade has just killed his target. Our target. All I have to do is stand guard, make sure nobody interrupts the next part.

His intel was positive that the deed is hidden in the target's bedroom, and when you know what you're looking for there's really only so many places a hidden safe can be. If all goes well, it won't take Slade long to find it.

It would've been easier if he could've made the target get it for him, offer the man a chance to exchange the deed for his own life. But Slade was paid to take the target out and I can't waste the little bit of sway I have with Slade over the ones there's no chance of saving.

At least he made it quick and painless (or as painless as a bullet to the brain can be). At least he didn't make me be in the room this time.

"Sir, we heard noises!"

Two of the members of his security team charge down the hallway, stopping short when they see me.

"Turn around," I warn them. They raise their guns, one of them putting a hand to his radio. I can't let them do that.

My knife flashes through the air, slashing through the wire connecting the man's earpiece to his radio and barely nicking the man's cheek. His partner fires and I roll out of the way, pulling out my gun as the momentum carries me to my feet.

I aim right for the center of his bulletproof vest and fire three shots. The force of the bullets slams him into the wall behind him and he slumps to the ground. I take a deep breath, watching to make sure that they're both still breathing.

The door slams open and Slade strides through, a briefcase tucked under his arm. He looks down at the unconscious guards before looking right at me.

"Did they see you?"

I freeze. Slade wants no witnesses. If I tell him the truth, he'll kill them.

But I can't lie to him. I can't.

"Yes sir," my voice shakes and nausea rocks my stomach. Slade raises his pistol and my blood runs cold; I open my mouth and nothing comes out. But I don't have time to panic, all I have time to do is force out a hoarse, "Please" but it's too late.

Two shots ring out. Bang. Bang. My body stiffens as blood splatters across the carpet and the walls.

"I told you, no witnesses," Slade says, and it's not an apology but it's as close as he'll get right now. It's more honest than an apology anyways. I close my eyes, forcing myself to take a breath. My job was to stop anyone from interrupting Slade, I couldn't do that and clear out the security team without them seeing anything.

It's two more deaths. Three more, because I can't leave out the person we came here to kill.

Slade's hand lands on my shoulder and he squeezes once. I take another breath, focusing on the grip like it's my lifeline, but this is just another job, just one out of the dozens of jobs we've been on in the last year. It's easier than last time to exhale, unsheathe my bo staff and nod at Slade.

"Time to go," he nods back.

---

Month: January

---

"Deathstroke," the man greets, standing up from behind his imposing, god-knows how expensive one-of-a-kind walnut maple desk as Slade strides into his office. I follow behind him, taking in all the security measures I can see and trying to fill in the ones I can't. Aside from the burly guards standing at the door and the panic button that's absolutely on the bottom side of the drug lord's desk, there's not much. Logan Klauss is a confident man who has a lot of faith in the ability of his guards to shoot anyone that he wants them to. He believes that he's safe in here.

Honestly, he has pretty good reason to think that.

"I know you're a busy man, I appreciate you taking the time to meet with me. Take a seat," he gestures to the chair across the desk and Slade sits down. I take my place behind Slade's chair, hands folded at my back and away from any of my weapons.

Concealed weapons. For some reason, drug lords don't like outside people bringing weapons into top secret, evil meetings.

"You have a big event coming up, I believe," Slade says conversationally.

"Oh, you could say that," he agrees. "See, every year I host a little get-together here in my favorite chalet. It's a fun way to show my friends a good time, you know, to say thank you for their support."

Translation; every year, Klauss hosts a private auction for the wealthiest, dirtiest, most dangerous people on the planet. It's mostly artwork, but if it's extremely valuable and stolen goods, then really nothing is off the table. Slade showed me the guest lists from previous years, and I'm starting to get really sick of recognizing the same people over and over.

"Maybe you've heard by now, but there was a bit of an issue last year… and given that I've gotten my hands on a couple… let's call them "sentimental" pieces recently, I figure it's better safe than sorry to hire a bit of extra insurance."

"I assume the caliber of thieves you're concerned about won't be dissuaded by a few extra combination locks?" Slade's voice isn't quite mocking but there's a bit of an edge to it. Klauss' face darkens, the casual expression hardening into anger.

"Nobody steals from me!" He slams his fist down on his desk, making papers jump. The crime lord breathes out, calming himself down before he looks up again. "Last year, someone got through my security and these bastards are like little rats. They're going to try again."

He looks up at Slade.

"I want you to make sure that not a single thing leaves my vault. And absolutely fucking nothing leaves my property until I have my money."

"I'm sure you've heard I've moved beyond security work these days, but for the right price I'm sure we can work out an arrangement."

"Name it."

Slade's mouth twitches, a slight rush of air coming out of his nose. It's as close to a victory cheer as he'll ever come. Whatever we came here for, Slade knows he just got all of it handed to him. He leans forward, taking a pen and a piece of paper off Klauss' desk. He scribbles down a number and slides it back.

Logan reads it and whatever number Slade wrote doesn't phase him in the slightest.

"Oh I can definitely do that," he agrees. "You get a quarter up front, the rest of it when I'm satisfied that you've given me what I've paid for."

"Half," Slade counters. "That's the minimum I'll accept as compensation for my time. As you said, I'm very busy these days."

"I appreciate that I'm paying for quality. I can agree to half."

"Of course I'll also need access to your entire estate and a full rundown of all your security measures," Logan nods along until Slade adds, "I'll be holding on to your phone for the duration of the event."

"No fucking chance!" Logan shoots back in outrage.

"Data from your phone is the simplest way to open your vault, any thieves worth worrying about will be more than capable of taking it off you."

"No one's getting their hands on my phone."

Slade hums dismissively. He reaches for a paper on the desk, scribbling something down before ripping the sheet off the pad. I glance down to read it when he hands it over to me. Slade sits down and crosses his arms over his chest as I walk over to Klauss, holding the paper out to him with the words facing the floor.

I'm back at Slade's side before the drug lord has finished reading the note.

"My advice is only helpful if you actually follow it," Slade says casually, holding out his hand towards me with his palm face up. I hand him Logan's phone as the man's eyebrows rise, his mouth opening in surprise and anger as he pats himself down. Behind us, the guards stiffen. Slade reaches across the desk to hand his client's phone back to him.

I let my hands drop to my sides, hoping that Slade didn't notice what else I took. The note said to prove a point, so Slade didn't tell me not to take anything else.

"Satisfied?"

"Alright, you've made your point," Klauss scowls.

The negotiations and hashing out the details don't take very long after that, since most of the intel will be sent over later when Slade gets a look at the security overview, but it feels like an eternity. My fingers itch and all I can think about is finding a way to do the upload without anyone noticing. I don't know how I'll get the link to them but it shouldn't be too hard to get a temporary domain and that's even better because the evidence disappears after the domain expires.

"A pleasure doing business with you," Klauss says, shaking Slade's hand before gesturing to one of his men to show us the door.

As we follow the guard out, Slade puts a hand on my wrist and squeezes.

Shit! Shit, shit, shit.

Of course he saw me take it.

I exhale, trying not to look guilty as I reach into one of the pouches on my leg and hand him the flash drive. Slade's eye narrows, the look on his face getting sharper.

Dammit.

I should've taken his watch, the drive was a stupid risk. And worse than the crushing blow of being so close to information that valuable is the fact that Slade is going to be pissed. I can already feel the angry clouds gathering.

"And just in case you still want to doubt my expertise…" Slade says, before tossing the drive back to Klauss and I try to breathe through the crushing disappointment that I won't get a chance to find out what's on it. Logan's eyes widen, his hands scrambling for his data, "Nothing is ever really safe."

---

"What was that?" Slade demands when we're alone.

"You said to prove a point! I was just showing him he should listen to you!"

The angry look on Slade's face gets a hell of a lot colder.

"Richard," my name lands like a punch to the stomach and suddenly I can't breathe, "You know that I don't tolerate you lying to me."

My chest is so tight the room feels like it's spinning and terror starts filling my lungs. The last time he caught me lying to him he almost crushed my windpipe, and he's made it crystal clear what will happen if I step over the line.

I try to open my mouth to explain myself but I'm too terrified to lie to him again.

"Do you understand how stupid that was? What was your plan? If he thought I'd only taken that meeting as an excuse to steal from him, he would have had us shot on the spot! How dare you take such an idiotic risk?!" Slade thunders.

I back up with every word until I'm pressed against the wall and he's looming over me. It feels every bit as familiar as it is terrifying; he's going to hurt me. He's going to hurt me and that's only if I'm lucky enough that he won't just kill me on the spot.

"Answer me, Richard!" Slade orders and the sudden rush of adrenaline pulls the truth out of my mouth.

"I don't want to work for him!" I snap. My shout echoes, leaving me staring at Slade in shock, "I… I mean…"

"You don't work for him," Slade reminds me coldly, "You work for me. You do what I say."

The words hit me like a punch to the diaphragm and whatever courage I had is gone. There's nothing left but ice-cold fear and the pathetic apologies falling out of my mouth.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I know. I'm sorry!"

Slade's hand lands on my shoulder and I flinch violently.

"Richard," Slade says quietly, and that's when I realize I'm practically curled in on myself, arms covering my face in a desperate attempt to protect myself. A tear drips down my face and my hands are shaking. "I'm not going to hurt you. But you will tell me the truth. Why did you take the drive?"

I can't make myself look him in the eye. I can't. Just like I physically can't stop myself from answering him.

"I… I wanted information."

"What information?"

I try to pull out of his grip and for some reason, Slade actually lets me do it. I back up until there's enough space between us that I can get a full breath in.

"I wanted to know who he's been dealing with. I just thought… it would help to know."

"Help who?"

"Slade…" The word comes out before I can make up my mind. Slade looks down at me and the intensity of his gaze makes me twist my hands together anxiously. "Could I have amnesty?"

"Amnesty," Slade repeats like he couldn't quite hear me the first time.

My mouth is too dry to answer so all I can do is nod.

"I'm not sure I understand what you're asking for, Richard," Slade warns, and the suspicion in his voice makes my chest tighten and my stomach flip over.

"If there was something I was… for whatever reason, something I was afraid to tell you, could I ask for amnesty?"

Slade regards me with a carefully controlled expression, the look on his face almost indecipherable despite how much time we've spent together in the last year. He crosses the distance between us slowly enough that I could back away and let the whole thing go, but I don't move. Instead, I hold still while he approaches and puts his hand under my chin, gently tilting my head back so I'm looking him in the eye. The touch is gentle and it would feel good if it wasn't so terrifying; right now it would be easier to lie to Aunt Diana's lasso than to Slade.

"Is there something you need to tell me?"

I swallow. All the moisture is gone from my mouth and my hands are trembling. The iPod—safely stored in my room down the hall—is burning a hole through my chest.

'You are mine.'

'We both know what I could do to you'

'I don't need to hurt you to get what I want, because I already have you. It's only a matter of time until you break.'

"Depends on what your answer is."

Slade lets out a slow exhale and his arms drop away. My heart stops beating while I watch him and I can't read anything on his face except that he's trying to think of every possible outcome of this situation and every possible reason I might have for asking it.

I can't take this anymore. I can't lie to him and every time I have to, the pain in my chest gets even worse. Slade is my partner, he trusts me, he believes the things I tell him because I promised to tell him the truth. I want him to say yes so badly, I need him to, and the second he does, I'll tell him about the iPod. He can help me figure out what the League needs to know. It will all be okay. All he has to say is—

"I'm sorry, Richard. I can't give you that."

I flinch and jerk away from him, my face burning while my throat closes.

"There needs to be consequences for poor decisions," Slade says, reaching for my arm.

"Don't touch me," I snap, pulling myself out of reach. The extra distance doesn't do anything to stop him from grabbing me.

"Let go!" I shout.

"You're acting hysterical. Calm down."

"You're supposed to be on my side!" I shout, thrashing in Slade's grip. It does absolutely nothing. "We're partners, you promised!"

"I am on your side," Slade says calmly but his voice is as solid as stone, "I am trying to protect you from making a mistake that can't be fixed."

He sounds so sincere that the rage and the desperation and the fear all wash away. I sag in his grip and I just feel empty. And tired.

I'm so tired of this.

I just want to go home.

I miss my family. I miss my friends. I miss Gotham and the smog and the gargoyles and saving the day from supervillain attacks and I miss being Robin more than life itself.

But I can't go home.

Because…

Because…

I take a breath and I hate the way the air rattles in my lungs. Like they're hollow. Like I've been emptied out and there's nothing left of me anymore except a shell.

Slade lets go and I stagger backwards until my legs hit the back of the couch. I sink down slowly, my arms wrapping around myself defensively. Slade doesn't say anything. I take a deep breath and it helps and I take another and another and another until the only thing I can hear is the sound of air moving in and out of my lungs. Slade still hasn't said anything.

"What would you do?" I ask quietly, "If I tried to walk out?"

Slade doesn't answer and I curl in even tighter on myself, face buried in my arms so I don't have to look at him.

"I'm not going to, I'm not saying I would but just… pretend. If I tried to leave, really tried, would you let me?"

"I gave you the chance to walk away," Slade answers.

"So if I tried…" My voice trails off and I feel so dizzy I can't say anything else.

"You wouldn't make it."

I close my eyes because that's the only answer he would have ever given.

"And then what would you do?"

"To you?" Slade asks quietly. I nod, eyes burning with tears I desperately don't want to fall. His footsteps are quiet thuds against the hardwood floor as he crosses the room and settles into the space next to me. "Probably nothing."

That has me looking up without realizing it.

"What?"

"We're speaking honestly, aren't we?" There's a smirk on Slade's face, but there's no mockery behind it. "The effort it would take you to mount even that much of a resistance would burn you out. If you told me you wanted to leave, I would just stand aside and let you fill in all the blanks yourself."

"And if I fought you?"

"Then I would probably push you down into a breakdown, make you get it all out of your system. But it wouldn't take much."

Bile rises in my stomach and the world feels like it's spinning and it's the worst vertigo I've ever felt because I don't know which way is up. I don't know what's right and what's wrong and everything I thought I knew is scrambled and broken and I don't think it's the kind of broken that can ever be fixed. But there is a lifeline, I just have to take it.

My voice is shaking when the whisper comes out.

"I need you to say it."

Slade doesn't need to ask what I'm talking about. His hand lands on my back, his palm rubbing circles into my shirt. A shudder runs down my whole body and the next thing I know, I'm crying. Slade pulls me in against his side, one arm wrapped tightly around me.

"You're mine, Richard. You belong to me."

He doesn't say anything else. He just holds me together while I fall apart. And in the moment, I'm terrified because that's enough for the whole world to right itself again.

---

Month: February

---

"Ah, right on time," Ivo grins. He snaps his fingers and a cluster of MONQIS start climbing over the counters and benches. One of them jumps onto my shoulder and snatches the thumb drive out of my hand, and I barely resist the urge to throw it off. "It really makes such a difference when you work with professionals."

He goes on a bit of a creepy, rambling monologue and I can feel the irritation flowing off Cheshire. I hate Ivo. He's creepy and egotistical and insanely dangerous and I just gave him the data he needs to build another world-threatening weapon.

Cheshire tosses the other drive onto the table in front of the mad scientist before his MONQIS can crawl all over her, and I clench my fists to stop myself from trying something stupid. I copied all the data on my drive, it should be enough for the League to figure out what Ivo's planning even without the data Cheshire stole.

"As much as I'd love to hear the rest of this… oh wait," Cheshire interrupts him, clearly fed up with the mindless nattering. She disappears into the shadows without another word, leaving Ivo standing there looking offended.

"Well then," he huffs. "I suppose you'll run along too, little boy."

Jesus Christ I want to punch him so bad. There's about thirty or forty MONQIS that I can see surrounding us, plus probably dozens more than can activate if needed. Not to mention any other defense mechanisms and dormant robots that I can't see. If I punch him in his stupid face, I'll be swarmed. Plus, Slade will be pissed at me for attacking one of his allies unprovoked.

So as much as I want to knock him out, I can't. But God do I want to.

But I can get on his nerves.

"They're not breaking you out if you get caught again."

Instantly, Ivo's demeanor turns cold. All the MONQIS turn to face me, creepy smiles stretching across their screens.

"Is that a threat?"

"No. It's a friendly warning."

I disappear before Ivo can say another word. Cheshire snorts when I meet her outside.

"You know they need him."

"No one is irreplaceable," I remind her. She grins.

"Well, when they decide to take him out, I will be the first to volunteer."

We head back to the meet point where I stashed my gear bag and she left her weapons case. I change out of the top half of my uniform, stowing the mask and the armor away and swapping my steel-toed boots out for a pair of sneakers. By the time I'm done, Jade has changed into a pair of leggings and an oversized sweater, her mask, weapons and tunic tucked away into her case.

Slade hasn't texted me yet, which means he's probably still meeting with Savage. Or maybe it was Luthor tonight. Or Ra's. That's probably the most likely given that I got sent out with Cheshire tonight. In any case, the mission is over and I have no idea how much time is left before he wants me back at the safehouse.

Jade snaps her fingers, breaking me out of my thoughts.

"Are you planning to just stand there all night?"

I shake my head, both to answer her and to clear my head. I reach down and sling my gear bag over my shoulder, glancing down at my burner phone that still doesn't have any messages.

"You hungry?"

Jade shrugs.

"Sure."

The first diner we try is a bust. Jade takes a single bite of her sandwich and makes a face.

"Ugh, that's disgusting. I'm not eating this crap. Come on. I have a better idea."

Jade stands up, grabs her bag and walks out. When she sees that I haven't moved, she pauses and glances back.

"What? Never walked out on a bill before?"

She leaves before I have a chance to get up and follow her out. The waiter hasn't noticed, and the diner is sleepy enough that nobody is paying attention to us.

I pull my coat on and catch up with Jade as she heads down the street with enough direction that I don't bother to ask where we're going. Sure enough, after a few minutes she leads us to a small restaurant in the middle of a much busier plaza. The place has a flickering red sign written in Thai and judging by the number of lights that are out, the place doesn't get much business.

Jade walks in and sits down at a table without waiting for a hostess, calling something to the man sitting at the back of the restaurant folding napkins. He looks back over his shoulder and shouts in to the kitchen. It's maybe two minutes later when a woman emerges from the kitchen and puts a scalding hot plate in front of each of us.

The food is hot enough to burn my tongue off and I'm not going to be able to feel my mouth tomorrow and it's absolutely delicious.

"What does he think about you giving away his money like that?" Jade asks, suddenly breaking the silence.

Jade saw me leave money for the bill. Plus a tip.

"He likes that I do it."

Jade leans forward, her eyebrows rising interestedly.

"Does he really?"

I frown, my stomach twisting over itself as I push my fork through the spicy noodles on my plate.

"Doing stuff like that… small stuff to help people, just to do a little bit of good… it makes it easier. I'm not just hurting people, it's like I can…"

"Live with yourself?"

I take a breath through my nose and hold it. My fork taps against the plate and my eyes wander around the small restaurant, looking anywhere but at Jade.

"Yeah. Exactly."

---

"I thought you'd be back sooner," Slade comments when I walk in. I freeze, my heart skipping a beat.

"Jade and I got dinner," I answer. I'm not in trouble. Slade didn't tell me I had to come back as soon as we were done, he didn't give me a curfew, he could have told me to come back at any time if he wanted me back sooner, and he definitely didn't tell me anything about not fraternizing with anyone. "We finished earlier than expected and I thought… well you didn't say I had to come right back after so I thought it would be okay."

Slade puts down his laptop and turns around in his swiveling desk chair.

"Did you enjoy yourself?"

My hands are shaking when I say, "Yeah."

"Good. I think it's healthy for you to make friends. Of course, I'm sure I don't have to remind you to be very careful what you choose to share with our associates, however close you may believe you are."

"I know."

Despite the nerves and how much my stomach aches at the reminder, I grin.

"Believe me, Slade, I know."

---

Month: March

---

Slade giving me a protection detail feels like a deep breath after spending too long underwater. We've been on contract after robbery after extortion job after contract for months and I almost think Slade is making fun of me when he tells me we've been hired to protect someone for a change.

And it's not even a drug lord or an international smuggler or anything. Brian Hansen is the lead software developer on a new transportation analytics app being developed by a massive security firm that goes live in four days and it's projected to cripple a major drug trafficking ring.

His company is taking no chances and hired Slade to make sure that the project leader (and the data only he knows the decryption key for) makes it to the launch.

Brian turns out to be a really nice man, who's intensely grateful to both me and Slade for showing up and has clearly been spooked by a few too many close calls. The first three days are uneventful; Slade and I trade off shifts so that one of us is always there to supplement the security detail the company provided.

It's not exactly an easy job; it gets exhausting to be constantly vigilant and watching everywhere for threats. Brian can't eat anything unless it's been tested for poison, can't enter a room unless it's been swept, and can't step in front of a window under any circumstances. The absolute worst is his commute to his office, and it's especially bad because he has to physically be there to supervise the final stages of the development and worse that he has to go back home at the end of the day because it's not practical to defend the entire building at night.

---

It's on day four with T-minus six hours to launch that something goes wrong. Slade arrived with the earlier crew to check the security at the office, he'll give the all clear before I can escort Brian out of the motorcade.

"Checking in, we're all clear on my end," I report over the comms as the armored SUV pulls through the gate into the parking garage. I wait, but there's no response so I try again, "Waiting on your all clear."

Still nothing. I tap my earpiece and there's nothing but static.

"Sir?"

I wait but there's nothing. I start counting and my heartbeat starts picking up when I hit three.

Slade is never late and he'd never ignore my check-in. I throw my arm out to stop the driver from pulling into the loading zone and shout to the guards in the back seat, "We're being jammed!"

The team in the back responds immediately, grabbing their guns and shifting to surround Brian against a sniper. The driver stomps on the gas pedal and tears out of the lot. We almost make it out, but a van with tinted windows is driving towards us at full speed and the driver has to swerve so he doesn't kill us all. Gunshots ring out and the sound of bullets trying to pierce the armored doors and bulletproof glass rings through the air. My head snaps up to try and find where the shots are coming from but as far as I can tell, we're surrounded.

"Get us to the utility door!" I shout at the driver, who nods and guns the engine. The SUV behind us takes off for the other end of the garage; the other driver must have figured out what we were doing and tried to split their attention. It works; the people attacking us have no way of knowing which car Brian's in and half the cars go left while we go right.

But there's still three cars on our tail and people shooting at us through the windows. There's a loud boom and the car jerks, throwing us all forward before the whole world tilts.

"They blew a tire!" the driver shouts over the hailstorm of bullets hitting the car.

"Stop the car!" I order, and the driver stomps on the breaks hard enough to make the remaining tires screech against the concrete. Slade was expecting my check-in one minute ago; assuming the attackers haven't breached the building yet, he'll be on his way with reinforcements any second. We need to thin the numbers down and with only three tires, we're not going anywhere.

Three cars pull up around us and I count fifteen people. I can't take them all by myself but I can take enough out to make a difference. I slip out of the car, pulling out my bo staff and taking a deep breath. The gunfire stops. The SUV is between me and the attackers surrounding us and the sound is muffled enough that I can't hear what they're saying.

But it doesn't matter; it's a perfect window. I take a running start up the wall, vault over the car, and flip once as I land in the middle of their attack formation.

My bo staff crackles as it takes the first man down. And then it's a free-for-all. I take out as many of the attackers as I can and it's easier than I expected. Although I guess it's not surprising that they're better at shooting than they are at close-combat. One by one, they all go down until there's enough of an opening for the rest of the security team to start moving Brian out of the car.

To his credit, Brian is taking this assassination attempt really well. He looks terrified but he's still on his feet and he isn't freaking out. It's only about a hundred feet to the utility door and the team has Brian surrounded, they're all armed and the last three men are too focused on me to notice that their target is almost to safety.

And then it all goes to shit.

Another car appears out of nowhere and I don't have time to wonder what happened to the other half of Brian's security detail because they're shooting at me and I have to dive behind a pillar for cover. When I have an opening to stick my head out, I see that they've got Brian and his team pinned less than thirty feet from the door. The team is firing back, but they're outnumbered nine to four and I'm stuck behind the pillar.

I would literally give anything for some smoke pellets right about now.

My chest heaves up and down with adrenaline from the fight and the beginnings of exhaustion from the twelve people I already took out. It's been six minutes, that's got to be enough time for Slade to mobilize his part of the team.

I stare at the utility door. Now would be the perfect time for Slade to swoop in and save the day.

Aaaand nothing happens.

I take a breath and reach for the projectiles at my waist. Two of the new arrivals are focusing on me while the others slowly move in on the rest of the team.

I throw two projectiles, one after the other, and judging by the loud cursing and the sudden lack of gunfire, they landed. I sprint out from behind the pillar and launch myself at the closest attacker, who gets a lucky hit to the side of my head that makes everything fuzzy for a second. Not long enough to stop me from taking him down.

The next one fires at me and the bullet bounces off my chest armor. I'm on top of him before he has a chance to fire again.

With those two handled, I jump back to my feet, my head snapping towards the utility door while the world blurs and my lungs burn for air. There's blood everywhere and terror springs up in my chest until I realize that Brian is still on his feet and there's one bodyguard in front of him.

There's one.

All the others are dead.

And the man holding a knife to Brian's throat isn't a bodyguard at all. I'm too far away to hear over the chorus of gunfire in the background but I can see Brian's frantic attempts to get away and the desperate panic on his face.

"No!" I shout.

He's got a knife to his throat. I'm not going to make it in time, he's too far away and he'll slit Brian's throat before I can get more than a couple feet.

The adrenaline pumping through my veins makes it impossible to second guess myself. There's only instincts and action and the only thing my brain has space for is split-second decisions on what to do next.

My feet stop, readjusting into a better stance without my brain consciously deciding to. I raise my hands, looking down the sight before squeezing twice. There's twin cracks like thunder and lightning and the knife falls to the ground.

I'm rushing forward to grab Brian before he can fall, pulling him out of his attacker's grip. The utility door slams open and Slade comes charging out, followed by a dozen armed security guards.

The gun is still in my hand and I can feel the heat from the barrel through my gloves. But I have a job to do and it's not until I have Brian safely through the doorway into the waiting arms of the rest of his security detail that reality catches up to me.

The man who had a knife to Brian's throat is lying on the ground in a puddle of blood. He's not moving.

Because I shot him.

In the head.

Twice.

…

He's dead.

---

AN: Take a second, breathe, maybe reread the content warning at the beginning of the chapter. I warned you.

Believe it or not, things can still get worse from here. And they will!

Thank you for reading! I'd love to hear from you if you enjoyed the chapter and especially if you want to scream at me for that ending :) But seriously thank you all so much for your support and I hope to be back soon.