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What are the chances?

Chapter 8

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

A/N: Sorry for the super long update time. I had writers block. If there's anyone out there still reading this story, feel free to leave a review.

000-Slade Wilson-000

Slade didn't even need to turn around to make sure the boy was following him; one would be able to hear him stomping along from a mile away. He figured he would have to work with Richard on that, it wouldn't do to have him give away his position on a stealth mission. Especially if Slade wasn't there to make sure the boy didn't get captured-or worse, killed.

As an assassin, the Dick would have to be silent, otherwise he'd risk alerting his target to his presence, and in such a dangerous business, he couldn't afford to make a mistake like that.

It was strange.

Given the boy's upbringing as an acrobat, Slade figured he would be much lighter on his feet. Not that it mattered though. Slade was going to be training to boy from scratch, working on stealth wouldn't be much of a problem.

He sighed slightly as the pair continued to walk through the harsh terrain. He looked back to check on Richard, who was seeming to struggle with the trek. He ran a hand through his hair as he waited for the boy to catch up. It only took him a few hours to reach the Al Ghul stronghold by himself, but considering this was the first time he had brought an eight year old, he hoped they could at least get there by night fall.

Once Dick had caught up, Slade started walking, slower this time, making sure that he was able to catch Dick each time he tripped over a branch or an uplifted root.

A few hours later the compound came into view, it was situated on top of a tall mountain. He smirked slightly as he heard a sharp intake of breath coming from the boy behind him. Clearly he was impressed.

"How do we get up there?" The boy asked quietly.

Slade turned to face his young charge with a serious expression.

"We climb."

"What?" Dick questioned with a confused expression, hoping he had misheard the man.

"You heard me." He answered before pushing the awestruck boy towards the mountain. "Go on, it's training."

When the boy made no attempt to comply with his instructions, Slade let out an exasperated sigh, running a hand down his face as he tried to hold back his temper.

"Now, Dick. I won't ask again."

The boy shook his head, much to Slade's annoyance.

"Nope…" He seemingly caught a glance of Slade's expression and faltered slightly. "I…uh…I don't have a death wish…" Dick trailed off as Slade's eye narrowed visibly.

"It seems to me like you do." The man said, with a menacing tone to his voice as he took a step forward. With his young charge, Slade was constantly walking along a fine line. He needed the boy to fear and respect him as a child would a strict father, but he didn't want the boy to be terrified of him.

He could easily beat the boy into submission. He could break him. Mould him into the perfect soldier. But that wasn't what Slade wanted though. He wanted the boy to trust him. He wanted the boy to be able to confide in him, even so far as one would their father.

Slade resisted the urge to shake his head. When he had first decided to take on an apprentice, he wanted nothing more than a child to continue his legacy. Now though, he wanted more.

The longer he spent with Richard under his care, the more he found himself caring about the child. It wasn't all about him anymore. He genuinely cared about the wellbeing of the kid in front of him. He didn't want the boy to hate him.

When Dick had wandered off earlier that day, Slade Wilson had felt an emotion he hadn't felt in a long time. Worry. Gotham was a dangerous place, especially for one so young. Slade's usual rational mind was filled with all kind of scenarios in which the boy ended up injured or worse.

Needless to say, he had been relieved to find the boy alive and well. He also had felt a great deal of anger when he saw the dark bruise on the boy's face. His boy's face. Slade couldn't help the feeling of protectiveness he had towards the blasted boy. The way a father would feel towards his son…

He shook his head. Dick wasn't his son. Dick's father was dead. Slade wouldn't be able to replace him.

Forcing himself out of his trail of thought, he smirked slightly when he realised the boy was almost halfway up the rock face.

Slade then approached the rock face, and began to make the climb. It was fairly easy for him, but he had to trail behind Dick just in case the kid fell.

The boy was actually an adequate climber. That was a good skill to have. Especially in their line of business.

Maybe that was why Slade let his guard down.

They were about three quarters of the way up the rock face when they encountered a problem. Slade knew something was wrong as soon as he saw little dust particles drifting down. It was only a matter of seconds before a large chunk of rock hurtled passed him, missing by mere inches.

That was when he heard a terrified yelp.

000~Dick Grayson~000

His foot his air as the piece of rock supported him crumbled away.

He was falling.

His surroundings melted away into nothingness. It was just him. Falling. He was going to die. Just like his parents had. There would be another sickening crack as his body made contact with the unforgiving ground.

He didn't hear the shrill scream that escaped his lips, nor did he hear Slade's words.

All he was aware of was the pounding of his head and the beating of his heart. He couldn't breathe. His own fears were crushing him. Suffocating him.

He briefly wondered whether he would pass out before he hit the ground. Would it hurt? Or would he be killed instantly as he hit the ground?

There were so many things he had yet to do. So many things unanswered.

Zucco was still out there.

He couldn't die. Not yet.

It seemed like the world hated him.

He was a good person. Or at least he tried to be. His parents had taught him that kindness was the greatest gift…but now…he wasn't sure.

Zucco was out there living his life, oblivious to the pain he had caused, while Dick was about to take his final breath.

It was like an old saying he had once heard.

"Only the good die young. All the evil seem to live forever."

His parents had assured him that this wasn't the case, but so far, the universe seemed to only prove this saying.

His parents, good people, were dead, where Tony Zucco, a murderous scumbag was still alive.

It wasn't fair.

The impending dread overwhelmed him. He knew it would only be a matter of seconds until he hit the cold, hard ground, but it felt like a lifetime.

He always thought that people were exaggerating when they said that they saw their lives flash before their eyes, but as Dick fell, he saw everything.

His parents smiling at him as his father scooped him into his arms. Racing with his best friend Raymond. Training on the trapeze. His first real performance. Falling….screaming…blood….running…Slade.

The boy squeezed his eyes tightly shut, praying that it'd be over soon.

You'll see them soon, Grayson.

He didn't even realise he had stopped falling until he felt himself colliding into Slade's chest, the air knocked out of him.

He opened his eyes to see Slade holding them both up using one strong arm, his other arm under Dick's seat, holding him tightly against his chest.

Out of immediate danger, Richard became aware of his heart pounding and his saviour telling him to hold on.

Dick wrapped his arms around slade's neck and buried his face in it's crook.

That had been close.

Too close.

He didn't recall the rest of the journey, nor did he acknowledge the man's words of comfort.

He snapped back to reality when he felt himself be lowered to the ground.

They'd reached the top.

If Dick hadn't been so shell shocked, he would have been embarrassed he had had to be carried up.

The man leaned forward and planted his hand on Dick's head, ruffling his hair, a small smile on his unmasked face. Slade trusted who they were meeting.

"Are you okay?" The man quietly asked the boy.

Dick gave a less than convincing half nod. Was he okay? Not really: He was terrified.

The man seemingly sensed the boy's apprehension and crouched down to Dick's level, firmly placing his hands on the youth's shoulders.

"Look at me, Dick."

Richard made no effort to move, so Slade removed one of his hands and gently took hold of his young charge's chin, tilting it slightly so the boy was looking at him.

"I'm never going to let you fall, okay?"

Dick felt himself being pulled into the man's chest once more, Slade's arms securely wrapping themselves around the boy's back.

Dick felt his body trembling. Could Slade really keep his promise? He hoped so, since the words gave him a great deal of comfort.

He leaned forward until his forehead met the man's chest, burying his face in his shirt. His fingers tightened around the fabric as quiet sobs wracked through his small frame.

"Shh…." The man hushed, rubbing Dick's back soothingly. "I've got you, Kiddo. You're okay. You're safe."

000~Slade Wilson~000

It took about ten minutes of Slade comforting him for the boy to calm down and pull away.

Slade leaned forward, taking the boy's face into his hand as he wiped away a few stray tears. Once sure the boy was calm he stood up, ruffling his hair once more before ushering him towards the fortress before them.

That had been way to close.

He didn't even want to think about what would have happened if he hadn't been fast enough…if the kid had…

He shook the thought out of his head.

The boy was safe. His boy was safe.

At the main gate of the fortress, there were two men in black robes waiting for them.

"Mr Wilson…" He glanced at Dick and raised an eyebrow. "I was unaware that you were bringing a guest."

Slade gestured down to his young ward.

"This is my Apprentice."

One of the men walked away, most likely to make a call. Dick sent an unsure glance up at his mentor, clearly nervous. As if to reassure the boy, Slade set a heavy hand down on his shoulder.

Dick took a deep breath as the second guard returned.

"Sorry for the wait, Mr Wilson. Go right in."

Without another word, Dick found himself being led into and through the large compound. It was unlike anything he had ever seen before. It was much grander than Slade's base, though that was a lot more modern looking.

0000000

Richard found himself subconsciously edging closer and closer to Slade. The one familiar, in a sea of unknown. He was rather nervous. He knew Slade was expecting him to be on his best behaviour… which made him all the more nervous.

They soon entered a large chamber, with three throne-like chairs at the end. As they entered, the occupants of said chairs, rose. The emerald clad eldest, walked ahead to greet them, the other two following closely behind, clearly showing who was in charge.

"Slade, how good of you to come." He said in a soft, yet powerful tone, extending a hand to Slade.

"Ra's, a pleasure, as always." His mentor replied, shaking the offered hand.

Ra's was old…older than Slade, and maybe even Wintergreen…but he didn't seem in the least bit frail. There was a sense of power around him, similar to Slade but also difference. Slade was a man who demanded respect. He was intimidating but also warm…at least to those who knew him. With Ra's he didn't feel anything but coldness.

The man scared him, so he allowed his eyes to wander over the others in the room. The woman, to the right, held a stoic expression for the most part, but she had warm eyes…the eyes of a mother.

That led him to the last occupant. To the left of Ra's was a young boy. Maybe a few years younger than Dick. He was mildly startled to see that the boy had already been staring at him. Studying him with his piercing blue eyes. His eyes looked as if they had belonged to someone much older. They held very little innocence to them unlike his own. He was wearing white robes, and had a wooden sword strapped to his back.

It was unnerving how the boy stared at him. It was as if he was scrutinizing him. Maybe he was. Dick must look a state, especially with the nicely forming bruise on his cheek.

He didn't get time to dwell though, because he was soon drafted into the conversation between the two males.

"Who might you be, young one?" Ra's asked, looking down on him.

Dick glanced at Slade, who gave a nod in response.

"Richard, Sir. Slade's apprentice."

The man had a curious glint in his eyes as he looked over the boy. He slowly bent forward, taking Dick's chin in his grasp. He tilted the boy's face in his grasp, his thumb brushing over the bruise.

"I hope you haven't been too harsh with the boy."

Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw Slade tense ever so slightly, clearly not liking the accusation. Dick almost pulled away. He didn't like Slade being accused of child abuse, either.

"I do not sink so low as to hit a child." Slade said simply, a warning tone in his voice. He clearly wasn't going to go into any further detail.

Ra's only nodded, and withdrew from Richards face.

"Damian, why don't you show Richard around. Perhaps to the training room? That is if it's okay with You, Mr Wilson." The young woman who had been silent up until now spoke. "You and father can discuss the details of this meeting over refreshments."

"Of course, Talia." Slade nodded.

Ra's, Talia and Damian. He now had names to the faces.

His eyes returned to the other boy, Damian, and noted the scowl on his face. Clearly the younger didn't want to associate with Dick. Dick felt the same way. Damian didn't look particularly fun.

Talia gave them both a soft smile and ushered them away.

"I'll collect you in time for dinner. Damian, I trust you will be a good host."

" tt Of course, mother." He said, making sure it was clear he wasn't happy, before turning to leave, not even checking to see if Dick was following.

Dick sent one last glance at his mentor, who once again, only nodded in reply before he trailed after the younger boy.

Great, I'm stuck tagging along after this spoiled brat.

He watched Damian turn around a corner and walk through a door. It was a vast training room, holding pretty much every weapon known to man.

It was clearly only designed for fighting though, as it resembled more of a dojo. It was also a lot less modern that Slade's training room. Everything in the room was maintained, yet old fashioned. It seemed the Al Ghul's were very into their culture.

The boy stopped in the middle of a soft mat, and waited for Dick to approach.

"What is your name?" He asked, with a soft Arabic accent.

His name? Hadn't he already told them that back in the main chamber? Maybe he hadn't been listening.

"Rich-" He was abruptly cut off.

"Your last name, idiot."

It was Dick that glared this time. He really didn't like this kid.

"Grayson." He growled, resisting the urge to throttle him. Was he that much of a brat to Slade? He hoped not. Then again, he was sure Slade would let him know if he was.

"Well then, Grayson, Let's spar," He gestured to the far wall. "take your pick of training weapons."

Dick hesitated for a moment. Slade had told him to behave, and be respectful…but the younger boy was offering…and he was asking to have his butt kicked.

"I'm assuming you know how." The boy stated with a smug grin, that made Dick want to knock him into next week. He didn't think he'd ever met anyone so pompous. "I'm also assuming you're not too scared."

Consequences be damned, He thought as he walked over to the wall to examine the weapons. Slade had been training him in how to use several, but his favoured choice was escrima sticks and there just so happened to be a pair. Simple and wooden, but effective for training, never the less.

He picked them up, weighing them in his hands. They were lighter than what he was used to, that would allow him to strike quicker. An impatient noise from behind him brought a smile onto his face, and he slowly made his way to the opposite side of the mat.

"The rules are simple, the first person to yield, loses.

000000

He wasn't sure how long they had been fighting, but he was tired, and he was pretty sure Damian was too. Perspiration was evident on both of their foreheads.

It was clear that neither would give up. Damian seemed irritated by the fact that Dick was giving as good as he received. Clearly the younger boy wasn't used to having an actual challenge.

Heh. Little Prince.

The two were evenly matched. Dick's advantages lay in his size, strength and agility, whereas Damian, who had been training for much longer than himself, was more skilled, and his attacks were far more vicious.

It was like a dance, Damian would attack him, Dick would flip over him and aim his own attack at the boy who would easily block. So far there was no winner.

Both boys were so engrossed in the fight that they didn't notice the spectators who had just entered the room. That was until a slow, yet purposeful clapping echoed throughout the room.

Both boys stopped, looking over to see that the source was Ra's. On his left was Talia, on his right was Slade. His heartbeat quickened upon seeing the man. Would he be angry. He studied the man's face for any sign of anger…he was shocked to see…pride? It was the same glint in his eye that was present in John Grayson's eyes when he watched his son perform on the trapeze.

He bashfully looked at his feet as Ra's spoke up.

"You've trained the boy well. Not many are able to keep up with my Grandson. I wasn't aware you had any interest in taking on students. He'd make a fine addition to the league. " The offer was clear, however casual it was.

Dick had to hide a smirk as he heard Damian let out an indignant sigh, but then the man's words sank in. Slade wouldn't take him up on his offer, right?

"I'm quite capable of working by myself, but having a good right hand is always appreciated." He placed a hand on Dick's shoulder. "With the right training, Richard will grow to be a force to be reckoned with. He is to be my successor."

"Ah, but surely a man such as yourself has more important things to do than train the boy. I'm sure Damian would enjoy having a classmate for his studies. Your boy would have the best training available. He could perform tasks for the league until the day comes where he would be useful to you."

Dick was about to take a step back, but the hand on his shoulder grounded him.

"I appreciate the offer, but I prefer to be much more hands on in training my apprentice. All the training in the world would make no difference if he wasn't trained to work with me."

"Of course, If you change your mind, the offer will still stand…but for now, let us head to the dining room. Dinner is almost ready."

00000

A few hours later, Slade found himself back on the jet, sitting opposite Dick. He leaned back in his chair, his hands clasped together and resting in his lap. He'd also noticed that Dick had began to mimic his body language and thus was sat in the same position. Subconscious or not, the man found it somewhat cute. It was hardly surprising. Children were very mouldable at his age, and would often pick up habits of those closest to them.

"What did you think of the Al Ghuls?" He asked after a long moment of silence.

"I didn't like them…Damian was full of himself and Ra's…seemed off."

Slade resisted the urge to smirk at the boy's child-like choice of words. Unlike Damian, Richard talked like a child his age, and Slade didn't mind that one bit. Dick was a child after all, and Slade had no problem with him acting like one.

A small smile appeared on his face as he saw the boy struggling to stay awake. So stubborn. Just like Gr-

No. Slade wasn't going to compare Dick to his deceased son Grant. The memory was far too painful. No matter how similar they were, he had to remind himself that the raven haired boy in front of him was not Grant. Not his son.

Well, that's what he told himself. The truth was, the young acrobat had wormed his way into Slade's fractured heart. Almost healing him. The boy had lost his parents, and Slade, his children. They needed each other. There was no doubt about that.

When Dick had fallen, Slade had actually felt real fear. The same fear he had felt when he had raced to rescue Grant. The same fear he had felt when The Jackal had held a knife against his youngest son, Joseph's throat. Both times he had failed. Grant was dead, and Joey had lost his ability to speak.

This time though, he hadn't failed.

The proof was sat opposite him, having finally succumbed to sleep. Maybe he had found Dick for a reason. Maybe he hadn't just found an apprentice. Maybe he had found a Son.

Heh. What are the chances?

A/N: So that concludes Dick's early years. Do you think I should end here? Or do a time skip to where Dick is older? There is only so much you can write about a seven year old after all. I also apologise for any grammar mistakes.