Dick smiled as he saw his friends out the door. The team had informed Kaldur and the next day the Atlantian had shown up on his doorstep. He threw his arms around Dick and apologized over and over again; praising his Atlantian gods for Dick's return.
Every other day Dick had seen his friends in 'scheduled socializing moments', as Leslie liked to call them. He had not started official therapy with Canary but was talking to her about some of the harder things. Like if Bruce raised his voice he found he felt the need to freeze like he was in trouble and 12 years old again. But if Tim or Alfred did it, he just didn't have the same knee-jerk reaction. It was probably from something he had seen or gone through but couldn't remember. Canary couldn't give a lot of advice as she wasn't privy to Leslie's medical plan or therapy structure for him but she was great to talk to. She usually recommended social practices or things for him to numb and desensitize himself to a reaction he didn't want.
Life was going well for Dick. He was back to training, with Bruce's supervision, and occasional sparring. He had therapy once a week with Leslie and helped Alfred around the house all day. He had the afternoons with his friends stopping by when they could and then the evenings and dinner were all about his brothers and family.
He had to admit though that he had very little privacy and alone time. He could understand it and why it was necessary but as he remembered more and re-solidified himself as a 22-year-old young man and not some 17-year-old gangly teenager, he felt more desire for solitude. It's not that he liked it more but doing absolutely nothing within some quiet calm spaces made his soul feel a little lighter. He didn't have to put up a front for his brothers, crack a joke for Wally, or reassure Bruce that he was feeling fine.
The silence didn't judge him, his own presence was all the company his soul felt he needed. Sometimes Dick worried that this might be from extended periods of isolation he was forced into but at the end of the day was mature enough to realize that he still wanted and needed isolation to a degree. It didn't necessarily matter if he adapted to increased isolation and didn't remember it. Leslie had been firm in her reminders that Dick needed to feel what he felt in the moment, not what he thought 17-year-old Dick should feel.
He had taken to going to bed early and sleeping alone sometimes. He would say good night to everyone before closing his door and cracking the window wide open until the moonlight spilled over his whole body and fell into his chest and face. There's something about being able to feel the breeze and see the sky that made him feel very open and at peace. It lessened and stress he had pent up and made breathing easier. Dick thought he was overthinking it and probably just preferred the technical option of an obvious escape, if needed.
Dick spent a good hour scrolling through TV channels on the flat screen in his room at a low volume before realizing it was close to 11 and turned off the TV. He sat there for a few minutes listening to the stillness of the manor before sliding out of bed and getting changed. He threw on a long-sleeved shirt and jean jacket and some thick workout leggings. He made sure his door was closed before he made his way out the window and down the roof.
He had been shown this perfect way to escape recently and had been following this path religiously each time he went out.
Down the roof, 19 feet from the right side of the manor, and sprint into the trees until he saw the far gate that led to the outside world. He remembered the directions clearly. He had been taught that there were motion sensors everywhere but if he went for a straight path on the left side of the gate instead of the quicker right side, he would confuse the motion sensors with the bigger swaying branches of the pine trees surrounding them. He would have to sprint and hope something more technical in Bruce's software didn't catch him but it was his best shot and had worked the last few times.
By the time Dick had hoofed it to the closest bus, it was 11:30 pm, 'I'll probably be on time', he thought.
Dick jumped off between stops and made his way over to a large building complex that read 'Calgary's interior Design'. He made his way around the right side before starting the usual climb up the fire escape and onto the roof. Dick took a quick look around and grinned smugly to himself, realizing he was here first. He shrugged off his jacket and tied it around his waist when he felt a shift in the air behind him. Dick froze and then relaxed his muscles but kept still all the same, listening.
"Very good little bird" a voice purred behind Dick's right shoulder. Dick smiled at the praise, "Keep your body alert but not too tense to where you could pull something"
Dick turned around to see his ma- Slade Wilson standing before him. Slade was dressed in his civilian clothes with a simple overly stretched t shirt across his torso with pressed blue jeans and intimidating expressive boots peeking out beneath. He had a silver watch attached to his thick forearm, turned down to the inside of his wrist as most veterans or serving individuals wore them, and had a cigar hanging limply between the edges of his lips.
Dick offered a small smirk, "I beat you here, are you feeling your age old man?"
Slade grinned and let out a puff of smoke, letting the burning ends of the maple-tinged cigar illuminate his cold blue eye and velvet black eyepatch.
"Sure you did, kid" Slade replied as he strolled forward casually. Slade reached him and brought a hand down over his hair, gripping the raven-dark strands between his fingers in a quick tug before he released his head, "I like that you're growing it out" Slade commented cooly.
Slade was closer to Jason's height, towering over the both of them by a few inches, made even worse by his tactical gear and boots. Dick sometimes wondered if Slade just looked as tall as he was big, like an optical illusion, you just assumed.
Dick blushed as Slade's hand fell away, he would never admit freely that he was growing it out from this one comment Slade made every time they met up.
Slade's eye twinkled in mirth at Dick's shyness before making his way over to the edge of the rooftop and sitting down with an unnecessarily old-man-sounding huff. Dick followed and plopped down beside him on the grimy brick ledge.
"So" Slade began as he plucked the cigar from his lips and tapped the burnt ends over the edge. Somehow his goatee stayed as white as snow, no matter how much Slade smoked. "Tell me what's going on. Any new thoughts in that ADHD head of yours? Anyone new from your team stop by?"
Dick shook his head and watched the embers fall, forgotten soon after. "Jason and Damian are getting along more but I think it's more because they're going back to school during the day and then I'm with them later for dinner. I don't think they have very much time to fight anymore"
"Tim is sleeping well again too. He doesn't sleep long but he doesn't need melatonin every night" Dick said with a grin. "Oh, and Kaldur has been stopping by the team more and more. He's been really easy to talk to again"
"That's good" Slade commented, "That brother of yours might have faced some serious medical complications if he fell into legitimate sleep deprivation"
They lapsed into silence for a bit when Dick broke it, "Bruce won't let me start therapy with Black Canary. He said Leslie is all I need and she's been fine but I like Dina and it's kind of annoying that he won't let me pick my own therapist"
Slade hummed, "Well he isn't you know? You're letting him pick it, by listening to him"
Dick frowned, "Yea yea, I know I'm letting him but his resistance to me having more interaction with the vigilante community is all weird in general. Like, I'm worried he thinks I'll never go back out again or something"
Dick worried his lip between his teeth before exhaling roughly, "He's tried, kinda, but it's still weird because he's treating me like I'm the one that's wrong or different when it's all of them that are changed!"
He looked over to see Slade watching him intently. Dick looked back down at his hands and continued quietly, "I love them all so much, Tim, Jason, and Damian have been so great it's crazy but I can't get over how weird it all feels. Bruce doesn't feel the same and it makes me feel like there is a weird emotional barrier between him and Alfred and I, which isn't true. But then if I focus on that too much I start to overthink and I remember my brothers grew up for 5 years without me and were fine in the end and-and" He turned to Slade. "Like the other day, I realized that if I never came back, they would've been fine and lived their lives. It's like fate brought me back just for me to see that nothing fell apart after my death. I shouldn't want them to suffer, and I don't, really but like-"
"It still hurts to know that all they needed was 5 years to move on" Slade finished for Dick.
Dick nodded dejectedly. Slade hummed before reaching over and running a large hand up and down Dick's back, laying it over the nape of his neck and squeezing reassuringly.
Dick looked slightly ashamed to be vocalizing his negative thoughts, "I'm fine really. I love my family and I'm so glad to be back with them. It's just hard to always be happy you know? I don't want them to feel guilty or get mad at me because they think I'm trying to blame them or something for those 5 years"
"Life is full of brutal clarifying moments, little bird, don't let this dull you"
Dick looked at Slade with a curious expression. Slade shrugged and pulled away, "You have an infectious optimism about you, I'd hate to see people who aren't worth your time drain you of that fire"
Dick blushed and looked down at his feet, kicking them against the building. "They're my family SLade. Of course, they're worth my time"
Slade chuckled, "Dick, non of those people are blood-related to you, you chose them. If they can't prove that they're worth your loyalty then you need to find someone who is. That's life, picking and choosing until you're satisfied"
"So, have you found anything yet? About my family's history? Or the electrum? Or Grandm-Cobb?"
Slade turned away, tapping his cigar butt with his pinkie finger to rid himself of excess ashes again, "What did I say last time?"
Dick frowned, "That if you found anything new, you would tell?"
"Have I told you anything new?"
"No?"
Slade gave Dick a flat look, "Then I haven't found anything pretty bird"
Dick frowned deeper at the lack of information and Slade shrugged in response.
"They were able to keep you for 5 years, drug you, probably torture you, and all the while underground in Gotham. If they've been doing this since the 1800s, you'll have to give me more than a month boy"
Dick grumbled but nodded. He hated not being able to remember a lot of the past 5 years. He was getting a few memories back and some emotions attached to things he had heard or phrases he remembered but overall the last 5 years were doing a great job of evading him. Dick remembered Slade being there for a couple of minutes on the last mission they went on at the Harbor but Slade explained that he was only there as a guard for hire for the drug shipment. Slade had broken into Dick's room and left him clues to lure him out before they finally met and began their nightly routine. During which is when Slade assured Dick he was trying to track the Court down and that he did not kill Dick, he was prepared to shoot him in the leg or chest though. It might be the fact that he was Slade's favorite Robin or the fact that Slade told him bluntly that he was trying to shoot him in the thigh, but Dick believed Slade.
It was refreshing to do something on his own without Bruce and his brothers so he had easily agreed to keep the meetings secret. He had asked Slade why he wanted to see and meet up with Dick without any strings attached and Slade had merely looked at him and replied, "What do you think, pretty bird?"
Dick had blushed profusely and hadn't asked again.
"I remembered again," Dick said suddenly. Slade drew one last large puff of smoke before twirling the cigar butt and letting it fall stories below them to the main street. "And?" he prompted Dick.
Dick curled his knees up to rest his chin on and watched the small burning end to the cigar bud fade and burn out, "I don't know if I should say it. I haven't told Bruce because I realized there really isn't anything of value to this memory. It just makes me look and feel weak. Makes me realize that I've been tossed around and placed where I was needed by some crazy assassins for 5 years and I can't even remember it all enough to know what to be mad over"
Slade's eye roamed over his scrunched figure, "So don't"
Dick looked at Slade, "What?" He wasn't sure if Slade was suggesting he just not be mad or something else entirely.
"Don't tell me" Slade expanded. "If you don't want to tell Bruce and feel like everything I know, he should know; then don't tell me. Simple as that bluebird"
Dick flushed and stammered, "It-it's not that, per se. I just-"
"It's exactly that," Slade said and Dick was forever grateful at how monotone and judgment-free he could make his voice sound. "It's nothing to be ashamed of. You are basically 17 years old and being told to react and respond to trauma you don't even remember. Now, if you never owned up to reality and played by daddy's cards until you were 30 or so…well, then I would judge you"
Dick smiled slightly at the teasing tone of Slade's lilt.
"I was sitting the entire time. It was actually a dream but after I woke up I realized I could remember it and I spent all-fucking-day yesterday trying to remember details about that dream"
Slade stayed quiet the entire time.
"I think ta-Lincoln had just dropped me back off in my cell because I felt the need to keep looking at the door like I wanted him to come back or something. I was hurting all over, but like a good achy type of sore," Dick unfurled his legs to stretch and kick them out a bit.
"The cell was just all grey stone and cold, my ass was so cold it was numb. But the room didn't even have anything. Like no cot or sink or pee bucket; nothing. The weirdest part is that I'm pretty sure it didn't bother me. I-um, I think I had been there a while because I just spent like 20 minutes staring around at the same boring dirty walls. I wasn't trying to escape or pass the time or plan or anything. I, I just accepted it"
Dick looked at Slade but Slade was staring out over the city skyline, "I hope it was a memory so I can say I'm making progress and my own stupid head isn't in control of me and in denial and stuff, but I really hope that wasn't actually me. It would mean that I really was in the same zip code as Bruce, just like 20 feet underground, and not fighting them or what they were doing. I sat there staring at a wall and my legs weren't broken or anything"
Dick shook his head, "Ugh! What am I saying. I don't even know what they wanted from me. They might've just been trying to see if they could make me like them after so many years with Bruce. I dunno"
Dick still had too many letters and emotions hanging on his tongue. Every time he swallowed his tongue felt thicker and tighter with sentences he wasn't sure how or if he needed to say them.
Eventually Slade pushed himself to his feet before making his way to the center of the roof and facing Dick with his arms crossed and legs in a firm stance. Dick grinned before scrambling to his feet and facing Slade a few feet away, arms up and a wide electric grin spread across his face.
Since their second meet-up, Slade had been sparring with him. He said it would be good to practice now that he was conscious of his meta status and healing factor. He never hurt Dick too severely but Dick agreed because Bruce often encouraged him to retire from training as soon as he broke a sweat.
Slade stood still, his breathing calm and mellow as he waited for Dick to make the first move. Dick flashed Slade a smirk before running forward and faking a sidekick to the left. Slade brought up his knee to block when Dick changed direction and went to punch Slade's unprotected side. He aimed for the kidneys since the fucker could definitely heal by the time they parted ways. Slade was quick and shoved Dick away with a palm to the chest, forcing him back a few feet. Slade straightened up and casually stared Dick down. Dick bared his teeth and leaped again. Slade leaned back but Dick forced himself into a forward roll at the last minute, springing for Slade's ankles. He wrapped his arms around both and clenched as tight as he could. Slade's legs snapped together and they went down. Dick scrambled to pin Slade down but Slade grabbed Dick by the hips and threw him over his head. Dick caught himself in a single flip before turning and bending backward just in time to avoid a solid punch to the face.
Slade pulled back and grinned at Dick, "Good, now faster"
Without a word he snapped his other fist at Dick's face and then his leg shot out and tried to clip Dick in the middle. Dick flipped backward until he had some safe distance between them. Slade prowled forward and launched for Dick's torso, they both went down and Dick wrapped his legs around Slade's middle before twisting and pushing up onto his upper back and throwing his thighs and feet over his head. Slade, still entangled went with them, landed roughly on his neck and shoulders. Dick didn't allow Slade time to recover and kept his legs wrangled around Slade's upper torso, twisting his upper body to counter Slade's new position on the ground. Dick squeezed and wiggled until his legs were Indian style with Slade's throat in the middle of his bent thighs.
Dick held him there with straining trembling thighs and crossed his arms smugly. Slade raised an eyebrow before pulling a small slim blade from the thumb of his glove and stabbing it into the inner meat of Dick's thigh.
Dick cried out and his hold collapsed, allowing Slade to constrict around him. His large hand wrapped around Dick's throat and shoved him back to the ground, batting Dick's hands away like butterflies.
He removed his hand, allowing Dick to gasp in a rough breath while he pinned his wrists above his head with one hand. Before Dick realized it, Slade had slammed his fist into his face, causing Dick to cry out. Slade slammed his fist down again but Dick narrowly avoided it by controting his neck to the side.
He glared at Slade as he took in great gulps of air. He felt something tricking out of his nose and down the side of his face to meet his ear lobe. Slade grinned back, "Had enough little bird?"
Dick roared and bucked Slade off of his, rolling to the side and flipping onto his feet with a seamless front flip. He threw kick after punch, melded with intricate flips, and attempted slams. Slade met them all with grunts and praises.
After about an hour of an all-out brawl, Slade had Dick pinned to the rooftop gravel by his throat again. Slade sat on Dick's lower back with one hand restricting his wrists to his upper back and his other hand forcing Dick's neck into the ground, chest down.
Both men were breathing heavily and panting as their adrenaline high faded. Dick chanced a look over his shoulder to look at Slade's hulking form sitting on his back. Slade was staring unblinking down at Dick with such a straight attentive glint in his stone-cold blue gaze. Dick felt warmth and pride radiant from his face and chest and he let out a bark of a laugh before he realized it. Slade challenged him so thoroughly, he had never been able to beat the older man but had never fought someone else like him before. He skyrocketed Dick's blood levels and heartbeat, making him simultaneously lose track of time and fall into a hyperfocused state of attention all the same. It was absolutely thrilling and Dick hoped to never lose the opportunity to feel this rush.
Slade grinned down at Dick, his gaze never wavering.
By the time Dick made it back to his room, he found Damian had crawled into his bed and was snuggled in the middle of the king-sized bed.
Dick smiled as he crept over, Damian had the blankets pulled under to his chin and bawled into his fist. His breathing was calm and steady and quiet and Dick was content to just watch his youngest brother sleep.
Dick slowly shook off his jacket and shoes. He was about to climb over Damian when he smelled himself and grimaced, Slade really did a number on him. He groped around the inside of his thigh and pulled the ripped seams apart, glad to find the stab wound had already healed and was only a pink irritated mark now.
He quickly popped out some deodorant and coated himself, even covering the inside of his shirt before climbing into bed and wiggling up right behind Dami.
Dami woke with a jolt but relaxed instantly when he sensed it was Dick.
"Where were you" he murmured sleepily.
Dick wrapped a hand around Damian's middle and laid his chin on top of his dark messy locks. "Just the bathroom" he replied back quietly.
Damian didn't respond for a few minutes so Dick assumed he had fallen asleep.
"Mmmkay" came a small reply followed by a yawn twice his size.
Dick stared at the bedroom wall ad he tried to slow his breathing and fall asleep. His heart rate had calmed but the amount of happiness and euphoric fun he'd had earlier still had his mind up and ready to go.
In retrospect, Dick was very lucky that Damian hadn't called Bruce or Alfred once he saw his bed was empty, but Dick wasn't due to sneak out again for another half week or so…..it would be fine, he told himself. He let his eyes play with the darkness and the drifting moonlight across his walls, hoping sleep would come faster than boredom, boredom usually won out.