~*~ENDLESS SPIRAL~*~
Series: Endless Spiral
Chapter One: Misdirection
by: xxdeathstrokexx
dedicated to : katarik, in thanks for the expansion of my Slade art collection. ^__^
***
The fire crackled, sending a fountain of sparks up the chimney along with the sharp scent of bursting pine. Bathed in a warm amber glow, it was easy to pretend that he was happy... that he ever could be.
Dick Grayson turned a page in a book he would never read, though it was inevitably the one that he picked up on nights like these. He stared at the words, but he didn't really see them, his mind focused on the clock.
It chimed midnight... then one... then two...
A door opened floors below him and his breath caught in his throat. The stairs creaked in steady rythym with the man that climbed them, giving way just slightly, as everything seemed to before him.
Slade wouldn't enter the parlor yet. It wasn't time. His footsteps quieted as he went into the room across the hall to wash off the blood first.
Somewhere in his mind, Dick was still a child, no matter the games they played these days. He still showed those little glimmers of courtesy and compassion, flashbacks to a saner day.
Hold overs from before the real hell had begun.
This had become a ritual for them. Not a nightly thing, or even weekly... they had gone nearly three months apart while Slade was abroad... and Dick had been a wreck without the strange routine.
It had scared him, shocked him deeply. The loneliness. The boredom. The fear... The memory of it haunted him in ways that he tried to ignore.
But then... denial had always been his strong suit.
But tonight was different.
Tonight he had a surprise...
***
Slade bowed his head under the steaming water, shutting down his mind as he scrubbed the scent of death from his body. It seemed to linger these days, long after the source was gone... it lingered, clogging his senses. Making him do things he knew he shouldn't.
-When did knowing better ever stop you?- Wintergreen's voice echoed through his mind. Slade squeezed his eye shut, but his old friend would not be denied, even in death. -What do you think you're doing, Slade? He can't replace your boys... he can't be Addie, or Lili, or me... you're only hurting yourself. And you're killing him.-
Slade slammed his fist against the shower wall, grounding himself with that slight pain.
There was no turning back now... even if he had wanted to. He was no longer capable of stopping... if he ever had been.
He fought in the name of 'good' when it served him. It was hardly his fault that 'evil' paid so much better.
He turned off the water and stepped out of the shower, dripping and tired. He had never felt age the way others did.
Tonight... he felt ancient.
He dried off reluctantly and dressed with a mechanical grace. He paused for a long moment in front of his mirror before replacing his eyepatch.
-just another mask...-
Taking a deep breath, he crossed the hall... he knew Dick was there, the same way that he always knew.
The house always felt different when Dick came home... he wondered briefly what Dick would say if he knew that was the only reason he kept the house...
So that they would have somewhere to come home to. Somewhere to lick their wounds and remember the reason they fought at all. The reason they could never quit.
No matter what.
-There are other ways to make money...-
Slade snorted, pushing a hand through his still damp hair.
There were other ways to make money... but there was no other way for him to live. Seeing Dick always reminded him of that.
Without his work, without his clients, his focus, his times of controlled insanity... how many more would have needlessly died? How many innocents needlessly compromised?
And not because of the psychos that he'd put down, either.
He had broken more than a few times.
Without Dick-- without his lifestyle-- to ground him, to bring him back to himself, it would have happened a lot more.
No, that was a lie.
Without Dick, he would never have stepped back from the abyss... And as far as he knew, nothing could stop him. Not for very long at least.
If one young hero-- even the precious Nightwing-- had to be slowly destroyed to keep that from happening... so be it.
When the fate of the world rested on your sanity, there was only grey. He hadn't had the luxury of 'black' and 'white' in a very long time...
***
He could feel Slade outside the door for a long moment before it opened, and the man's hesitation confused him. His confusion melted into worry at the sight of his 'teacher', though.
-Sometimes, I am your enemy.- Slade had said, years ago. -Sometimes your teacher... and always your Master. Remember that, and perhaps you'll live.-
Dick stood, regretting his 'surprise' when sadness joined the weariness in Slade's gaze.
"Going so soon... Nightwing?" He asked, gesturing to Dick's outfit. "I thought maybe we could talk tonight."
Dick opened his mouth, meaning to end everything, meaning to tell Slade that whatever this travesty of a relationship might have been, it was over.
But, as always, when faced with the man himself, his resolve crumbled. He closed his mouth and sat back down in his chair.
"About what?"
Slade crossed the room slowly, his natural grace unmarred by a slight limp. He made mistakes when he was tired, just like anyone else... and tonight had been no exception.
"You can't hide this forever, Dick. People are starting to catch on. Bruce-- "
Dick scowled and pulled off his mask.
"Bruce has no idea-- "
"He's known from the start, Dick." Slade said softly. "And your friends aren't as stupid as they used to be."
Dick's eyes widened and he turned his gaze to the fire, twisting his mask in his hands.
"I'm careful."
"You've never been 'careful'." Slade snorted.
"No one see's me."
"You were followed."
"By who?"
"You want a list?" Slade arched an eyebrow and laid down on the couch, stretching his leg out with a sigh. "And this wasn't the first time..."
Dick didn't respond, his jaw clenched tight.
"I take trespassing very seriously, Dick... you know that. Give me one good reason why I should sit idly by while they circle like vultures and ruin what little time we have left tonight."
"Is-- "
"No... " Slade interrupted, knowing what he was going to ask. "Batman can hardly waste his time tailing you all over the city. But his new little lap dog was the easiest to spot." Slade shifted, making himself more comfortable. "I tell ya... ol' Bruce sure can pick 'em..."
Dick inhaled sharply through his nose.
"Leave Tim out of this, Slade."
"Is that jealousy I hear? I didn't know you cared..." Slade drawled.
"I won't let you pull him into this."
"I don't have to. And you couldn't stop me if I did." Slade smiled darkly and propped himself up on one elbow. "How old is he, you think?"
Dick glared into the fire.
"Fifteen?"
Dick turned his angry gaze to Slade, but still held his silence.
"Sixteen?"
Dick opened his mouth but then closed it, his eyes darkening. Slade's smile widened, showing his teeth.
"Or is he younger? Like you were when the Bat scooped you up?"
"Shut up, Slade."
"Or what? You still need me. And you know you can't beat me yet..."
"With as many reinforcements as you say I have outside?" Dick asked with a confidence he did not feel.
"I wonder how eager they'd be to fight for you if they knew what you'd really been doing all these late nights."
Dick glared, sinking back into sullen silence.
"That's what I thought... now go change. I'll meet you downstairs in a few minutes... Deathwing."
Dick stood slowly and went to 'his' room. One day he would learn that defiance wasn't worth the trouble... Until then, he would fight these tired little battles and let his friends think what they would about where he spent his nights.
--END PART ONE--
Series: Endless Spiral
Chapter Two: Misconstrued
by: xxdeathstrokexx
dedicated to: katarik, who has given me even more fodder for my Slade!angst muse... because I needed more...
***
"Calm down, Star... I'm sure there's a perfectly reasonable explanation..." Gar said, not sounding very convinced of that himself.
"That's the problem..." Tim muttered from his seat by the window, laptop closed for once. "From what I know of Slade... this is perfectly reasonable."
Starfire muttered a curse in Tamaranean and Gar jumped up in front of Tim, his hands raised placatingly.
"Whoa there, Star..." He glanced over his shoulder at Tim. "You aren't really helping, man."
"Sorry..." Tim said unapologetically. "But this wasn't exactly unexpected."
Gar waved Starfire back again, rather surprised that she hadn't started blasting yet.
"Yeah, well... cooperating with Slade to save the world is one thing, but this..." Gar grimaced and shook his head. "What does Batman have to say about it?"
Tim stared out the rain darkened window.
"Nothing... we haven't talked about it."
Gar transformed into a bull.
Tim watched his reflection for a long moment before looking at Gar.
"He knows something... but he's not sharing."
"That's new." Conner said, coming down the stairs. Tim perked up considerably at the sight of him.
"Any news?"
Conner shook his head, shoving his hands deep into his pockets.
"They don't call it the Fortress of Solitude for nothing... But I think he knows something's going on. Something big. And he's not doing anything about it..."
Gar snorted and changed back to human form.
"Didn't really expect him to..."
Conner shrugged, his eyes still on Tim.
"No luck with Batman either, huh?" He asked, and Tim simply shook his head. "Figures... Look, why don't we just ask Nightwing what's going on? No one else is gonna tell us squat."
Gar rolled his eyes, but before he could retort, Bart seemingly appeared on the arm of the couch, swinging his feet.
"You know, it's no wonder you're bullet proof... how dense can you be?"
Conner glared and crossed his arms, but Tim intervened, laying a hand lightly on Conner's shoulder.
"Bart's right..." He said, and Bart beamed at him. "We can't just walk up to him and ask him if he's--"
"Wrath of X'hal!" Starfire growled, but Tim barely missed a beat.
"-- sleeping with Slade."
The window shattered behind him, making his cloak swirl in the sudden wind. He didn't even flinch.
"We need a plan."
***
Kneeling in the darkness, his hands pressed to the wall, Dick tried to catch his breath. The sharp, coppery taste of blood tainted each exhalation, but he couldn't fold.
Not now.
Not ever.
He couldn't let Slade beat him-- again-- even in training.
Fingers tangled in his hair, wrenching his head back harshly, the tendons in his neck quivering from the strain. He gasped with the pain of it, glaring up at Slade's bare face from behind his own battered mask.
Slade never wore his during 'sessions'.
The change was more than a little disconcerting.
-I only wear it when I'm working...- Slade had explained the one time Dick had commented on it. -This, I do for fun.-
Slade's grip tightened, bringing Dick back to the present.
"Fading out already, boy? We've barely even started..." He pulled Dick to his feet, pushing him against the wall. "If you can't handle it, just say so...." He leaned in close, hissing against Dick's hair. "I'll end it now and put us both out of this misery."
"Not a chance, Slade..." Dick ground out between clenched teeth. He managed to push back against Slade far enough to gain purchase with one foot on the wall. Kicking off as hard as he could, he sent them both backwards... but he wasn't ready when Slade lost his footing and they both fell in a heap. He laid stunned on top of Slade for a second before rolling clear, ignoring the ache in his scalp as well as all the other aches he had incurred over the course of this lesson.
"Very good... much better this time." Slade said, propping himself up on one elbow and looking over his handiwork. He barely had a scratch on him, as usual... but then again, Dick wasn't nearly as roughed up as he usually was. "I think that'll do for tonight."
Dick reached down to help Slade to his feet without even thinking about it. Slade smirked at him and accepted his hand, not releasing it once he was standing. He pulled Dick toward him, murmuring, "Good boy..." Dick tried to pull his hand away, but Slade's grip tightened painfully, his expression suddenly dark and unfathomable.
"Slade..."
Slade shook his head and let go, pushing Dick away.
"Go," He said bitterly. "You're friends will be wondering what I've done to you this time..."
Dick opened his mouth, but instead of speaking he turned away and headed for the stairs, burying all trace of his desire to stay...
***
"You can't just--"
"Yes I can."
"You have to--"
"No I don't."
"But it's your responsibility to--"
"No," Bruce said, finally turning away from the fire to look at Clark. "What happens in Jump is none of my business. He's made that abundantly clear."
"But Wilson--"
"Speculation."
"They say Dick is working for him."
"You heard what else 'they're' saying, didn't you?" Bruce drawled, raising an eyebrow. Clark simply stared at him. "Not you too..."
Clark shook his head.
"I just think you have to face the fact that it's possible..." He smiled wanely. "Like surrogate superhero father..." He trailed off.
"Conner too, huh?" Bruce asked, turning back to the fire. Clark looked surprised.
"Don't talk to Tim much anymore, do you?"
Bruce glanced at him and then away, leaning against the mantle, but didn't say anything.
"Just talk to Deathstroke, Bruce..." Clark said, sighing. "You're the only one he'll listen to anymore."
"That's where you're wrong, Clark... he listens to Dick." He took a deep breath, closing his eyes. "He needs him. More than I do."
Clark moved closer, laying a hand on Bruce's shoulder.
"Sometimes... you have to do the right thing, no matter who it hurts..."
--END PART TWO--
Series: Endless Spiral
Chapter Three: Misgivings
by: xxdeathstrokexx
dedicated to: katarik, damn her and her inspiration!
***
He stood on the roof of the Tower for a long time, staring off into the the darker night far below, the water untouched by the city's garish lights. Even knowing that it was inevitable, he didn't want to face his friends.
With all his new bruises, he knew exactly what they would think and he couldn't face their disgust, or Starfire's anger...
Or Tim's unfathomable understanding.
He closed his eyes, letting himself drift in the night breeze, in the spaces between the moon shadows, the deep ache in his muscles slowly leeching out into the darkness.
"How long were you planning on standing there, Tim?" He asked a deeper shadow behind his back without opening his eyes.
"Until you noticed I was here." Tim replied evenly. He didn't even sound surprised anymore when Dick knew he was there... then again, he was used to dealing with Bruce.
Dick half turned, knowing how his profile looked in the moonlight.
-like a hero- he thought with a bitter sadness that only served to strengthen his resolve.
"I always notice." He said, his tone a careful mixture of fondness and reproach. "And I'm not the only one."
Tim crossed the roof, drawn forward by invisible bonds, all but disappearing in the shadows that swept over the moon. The wind caught his cloak as the clouds moved on and his face was suddenly, sharply visible. For one agonizing instant Dick saw a reflection of himself... not just the costume, the persona... but the boy, forced to grow up in so many ways, and abandoned to the ravages of fate and ignorance in so many others.
"You don't have to do this, Dick..." Tim said, quiet but firm, the damp night air echoing with his need to believe the simple statement. "What ever he tells you, what ever you think you owe him. You don't have to-- "
"Stop."
"Just come home, Dick... He misses you. I know he does."
Dick faced Tim, his mask-less eyes troubled in the dark.
"No. Tell him I have a new home now, Tim... and stay clear."
"Dick-- "
"I'm serious, Robin." Dick said with deliberate, calculated harshness. "If I see you there, " He turned his back to Tim again. "Slade will be the least of your worries."
"You don't mean that."
"Don't test the theory, kid."
He could feel Tim's rage and pain behind him like a rising wall of water that threatened to crush him... but it was the understanding, the compassion that drove a spike of pure self-loathing through his heart. He grabbed the line that he had used to climb to the roof and descended back into the dark.
-where I belong...-
***
Tim watched the sky for a long while after Dick vanished from sight. He held his features carefully blank as Conner laid a hand on his shoulder.
"I knew..." Tim murmured, shaking his head. "But it's different now."
Conner didn't say a word as he pulled Tim to his chest, wrapping his arms around the smaller boy. He didn't have to, and Tim didn't give him the chance.
"There's more to it, somehow... He said-- " He leaned his head back against Conner's shoulder, closing his eyes. "He said he has a new home... Coming from him, that's as good as saying--" He tensed, his features twisting. "This is my fault..."
Conner took Tim by the shoulders and turned him around, shaking his head.
"How do you figure? Aside from the fact that you've taken up Batman's habit of self-punishment. Or is that only since you met me?"
"Conner... I-- " Tim began, but Conner cut him off.
"Before you say anything... this isn't your fault. You didn't drive them apart, and you definitely didn't make Nightwing-- Well, you know..." He shrugged and Tim frowned.
"You don't know them like I do."
"No. I don't. And you can never see them like other people do, Tim." He pulled Tim close again, glaring into the night.
-I swear... if he comes back here again, I'll kick his ass...- He thought angrily. He'd be damned if he was going to let any of them hurt Tim again... even if it meant going against his own mentor...
***
"No," Bruce said, rounding on Clark, his eyes darkly livid. "You don't understand."
"Then explain it to me. I'm a smart guy... make me understand."
"This is my fault."
"Repeating a false statement doesn't make it true, Bruce."
"Tell that to your editing staff." Bruce snapped, pacing the length of the bookcase. He stopped suddenly, pushing a hand through his hair. "What is it about you that gets under my skin like this?"
Clark gave a small smile.
"I'm honest. You can't handle it."
Bruce shook his head.
"I've made a lot of mistakes in my life... and so many of them involve Dick... even if it's not, this is my fault." He pulled his mask on, his face suddenly unreadable.
"Where are you going?" Clark asked, catching Bruce's elbow as he turned to leave.
"Don't worry... I won't do anything stupid." Bruce snorted, gently pulling his arm free.
"I'm not so sure I trust you when it comes to them..." Clark said, dropping his hand to his side and shaking his head.
"I'm not sure I trust myself... but really, I'm just going on patrol. You should get home."
Clark frowned. They both knew that neither Metropolis nor Gotham were 'home' any longer. They never really had been. Home was a tiny farm in Kansas and a moment stolen away from the world at a price too steep to pay very often.
"Stay. It's still early..."
"These days... it's always too late."
***
Dick was only vaguely surprised to find the door unlocked. He walked into the pitch black house with a strange sense of relief.
It scared him... the feeling. He shouldn't want to be here. Shouldn't want to be near Slade, after all he'd been through.
-shouldn't want a lot of things...-
But he couldn't stop himself from identifying, from understanding... the same way that Tim understood him...
-not the same...-
It was close enough.
The more he learned about Slade, the more they went through together... the more he found himself wanting to be back here, in this house, with a man that had tried to kill him and everyone he cared about more times than he could count. He told himself it was so he could keep an eye on a potential ally... or a proven enemy.
He tried not to think about all the other reasons he came back.
"I wasn't expecting you... I sent you home." Slade said from the shadow of the staircase.
Now he wouldn't have to 'come back'...
"I am home."
You can't come back to a place you've never left.
"It's about time, boy... I've been waiting."
--END PART THREE--
Series: Endless Spiral
Chapter Four: Misconduct
by: xxdeathstrokexx
pairing: Slade/Dick, Dick/Tim, [implied Dick/Bruce, and a hint of Slade/Tim]
rating: Movin' on up... Rated: R, for a non-explict solo shower tango...
dedicated to : katarik and yami... for inspiration and feeding the praise beast. ^__~
A/N: Okay, this is so totally AU... but I will address some of the big issues that people have brought up... I haven't read anything beyond the scans that Katarik has been nice enough to send me [oh yeah, that's why I'm writing this... ^__~] and a bunch of the old Deathstroke the Terminator comics... just keep that in mind. And, though Slade addressed Dick as 'Deathwing' in Chapter One, I don't think that's how Dick thinks of himself... it was more mocking than anything... you'll see what I mean.
Soundtrack: The Foo Fighters, One By One [the whole album...]
***
Dick sat in the pitch black room-- His pitch black room, now-- and went over and over his confrontation with Tim. He hadn't meant to talk to him at all... it was too painful to lie to him, to drive him away... but perhaps it would be better this way.
A clean break.
He snorted and stood, walking to the window-like door and pushing it open. He walked out onto the balcony, the moonlight disappearing into the unbroken black of his new costume. He leapt up on the railing, balancing easily, his eyes tracking a fast paced shadow that moved against the wind, sweeping up toward him on invisible strands of night.
"I told you to stay clear." He growled, falling into an unconscious Slade impression... or maybe it was Bruce...
"And I told you: you don't mean that." Tim retorted, swinging up onto the balcony easily.
Dick settled a mask of anger and disdain over his features, but inside, he was proud and more than a little impressed. He had warned Tim, and though a part of him had known the boy wouldn't listen, that spark of defiance and confidence never ceased to amaze him.
"This has nothing to do with you, Tim. Go home."
"You're only half right, Dick. This is about you, and because you're my brother, it's about me, too."
A perception inside Dick shifted and he scowled, hissing, "You're not my brother, Tim."
Tim flinched, obviously deeply hurt by that. In that moment, more than any other, Dick hated himself for what he was doing.
"Are you telling me *everything* we've been through in the last three years means nothing to you?" Tim asked, and something in his voice made Dick look over at him.
-No... don't you start crying, kid... not that...- He thought, clenching his hands into fists. He knew that Slade was watching, that he'd pay for this in blood and bruises later... but he couldn't just stand there and let Tim think he didn't care...
"Of course not! I--Tim--" Dick stepped forward, and hugged him impulsively.
-Tim, I'm sorry...- His mind filled in as his voice gave out. Despite everything, he was pretty sure that Slade couldn't read his thoughts... not like Bruce could. Or even likeTim... -Maybe someday you'll understand... that it was all for you.-
Tim clung to him, his face buried against Dick's chest, and Dick allowed himself to stroke the boy's hair. If this was the last time he'd get to [for god only knew how long] he thought he could afford a little indulgence. As long as he was willing to pay later...
"God, Tim." He breathed, shaking his head. "Just tell me what I have to do to make you feel comfortable enough with this that you'll go home." Because as much as he didn't want him to go, every passing moment was a moment closer to Slade snapping. To Slade deciding that Tim was a threat... or worse...
"I'm not giving up. Dick, this isn't *right*. You have to see that. You can't keep blaming yourself for a moment's weakness."
Dick pulled back, looking down into Tim's obscured eyes and seeing right through the mask.
"Wait--This is about that? Not..." He swallowed and blushed. 'Me and Slade', was what he had been about to say. Even though it wasn't 'like that', everyone [including Tim] thought that it was... it had never occured to Dick that Tim wasn't here to save him from that... that he didn't know that Slade had already saved Dick from himself.
"If you're talking about you and Wilson, I can't judge you about that. You've known Wilson longer then I have, and if you think that he's the one, I don't have anything to say against it."
-The one?- He thought, a small part of his mind amused by Tim's naivete.
"Tim." Dick murmured breathily, the name catching in his throat. Relief poured through him, tainted with despair over how easily everyone believed his cover... but then, Tim hadn't been surprised about his costume change.
-If he knows...- Bruce knew. Bruce knew and he hadn't done anything... but even the idea that Bruce somehow believed that he was 'with' Slade couldn't abate his overwhelming elation. If Tim wasn't disgusted by the mere thought of him and Slade [of him and any man...], then maybe there was hope for a future he hadn't even allowed himself to dream about...
"All I'm saying Dick, is that you don't have to 'go to the dark side' for this." Tim said, and it took Dick a moment to remember what he was talking about... it had been so long since he had been able to just talk to Tim. It was astounding to realize how much he didn't know. How much Bruce--
-Batman.- A little voice in the back of his mind corrected. It sounded suspiciously like Slade...
-- hadn't told him. But then, Bruce had always been big on misdirection and misinformation.
"Tim... you don't understand." Dick began, but a shadow caught his eye and he froze, Slade's presence almost tangible in the distance. He leaned down, holding Tim to his chest for a second, and whispered into his ear. "You have to go. Now." Dick pressed a kiss to the boy's cheek and then moved away, grabbing his shoulder and pushing him toward the railing. He made his voice harsh and angry, though his eyes were filled with apology. "Remember what I told you, Robin. This was your last chance. Next time..." He let the threat hang on the air and watched Tim hesitate. For one agonizing moment, he thought that Tim was going to turn and confront the shadows... but he only shook his head and leapt back into the night.
"We," Slade drawled, gliding forward out of the gloom, moonlight gleaming on his white hair and glinting in his eye. "Have to talk."
***
Dick followed Slade at a distance, knowing that it would be better-- if not easier-- if he didn't resist... yet.
"I'm disappointed, boy..." Slade drawled, leading the way down through the house at a leisurely pace. "I thought you'd gotten the hint the other night."
They entered one of the training rooms and Slade stopped, his back still toward Dick.
"Do I need to make an example?"
Dick tensed, swallowing his retort. Nothing he could say at this point would help... it was too early in the 'lesson' for him to get emotional.
"You have to leave them all behind, become a new person..." Slade half turned, his 'blind' side to Dick. "Either you cut ties with them... or I do it for you. It has always been your choice."
Dick shivered slightly. If this was the kind of mood Slade was in, waiting would only make it worse. He clenched his jaw and launched himself at Slade.
Slade didn't even move. Dick's fist connected solidly with the side of Slade's head, and the man started to crumple. Dick's eyes widened, and it was almost comforting when Slade kicked his legs out from beneath him and caught him in the sternum with his elbow.
Dick grunted, falling to the ground with a heavy thud, trying to catch his breath before the next attack came. Slade backhanded him when Dick rose to his knees, sending him sprawling again.
"This is different, isn't it?" Slade said, too quietly.
-Yes...-
"No..." Dick gasped when Slade's foot hit his shoulder and he hit the floor on his back, staring up at Slade, dazed.
"Don't lie to me, boy... you never could."
Dick licked his lips, tasting his own blood. He didn't try to stand, simply shifting his postioning on the floor and watching Slade's gaze follow him.
"No... I can't." He said simply, taking the moment to recover slightly. Slade's eye narrowed and he strode forward, grabbing a fist full of Dick's hair.
"You're learning, kid... but not nearly fast enough."
He hauled Dick to his feet and released his hair, something blankly sinister in his eye. Dick recognized it... the same unfathomable darkness that had filled his gaze after every major tragedy that they had inevitably weathered together. It struck a fear into Dick's heart that he hadn't felt since the darkest days of his fight against this man... the days that had shaped him into the man he was now.
"I'm only goin' to say this once, Grayson..." Slade said, voice oddly gruff, at odds with his dead stare. "You'd better start fighting back."
***
Dick winced as he pulled off his uniform, not bothering to wipe the blood from his face.
-if this is what it costs to keep him safe... I'll pay it for the rest of my life...- He thought determinedly, dropping the ripped fabric to the blank white tiles of the bathroom floor. He turned the water on as hot as it would go and stood there, catching his breath and waiting for the steam to build. He knew how stiff his bruised muscles would be in the morning, and despite how tired he was, he hated to sleep bloody...
His mind wasn't really on either his weariness or his pain, though... it was seated a little lower, and the implications made him burn with shame. He had always had a masochistic streak... you couldn't really be in this line of work without developing one. And he had to at least pretend to believe that it was Slade's thrashing that had turned him on...
He shook his head and stepped into the shower, hissing sharply as the water pummeled his bruised and abraded flesh, the heat slowly seeping into his abused muscles. He sighed, rinsing his hair and finally washing the blood from his nose and mouth. Slade had been less controlled with his 'lesson' this evening... more furious, more passionate, more dangerous than Dick had seen him since... well, since Rose had shown up. He'd been slowly building back into his old self ever since, the way smoke builds in a small room, but somewhere in the back of his mind Dick feared that some dreadful wind would come and sweep the smoke away, returning Slade to the passionless killer he had been in the wake of his loss... Or worse, that it would fan this fleeting spark into a tempest of hell fire that none of them could douse.
If he had to endure Slade wrath and domination to keep that from happening, that was another price he was willing to pay for the rest of his life. With his life, if necessary. If only to keep this tenuous equilibrium between ice and fire... Slade had to be steam. Like the steam all around him now, scalding his skin like Slade's touch did in his darkest dreams...
-that has to be why...- He thought desperately, taking stock of his injuries as he rubbed one hand over a long graze on his ribs, his fingers twitching to glide lower. He screwed his eyes closed, blood and bile mixing in the back of his throat as he took himself in hand.
He hadn't, not in the whole time he had been living under Slade's roof... he hadn't indulged for one simple reason.
He knew that Slade was watching. He was always watching.
-this is the price I'll pay...-
-to keep him safe...-
-to keep them all safe...-
He tried to focus on the pain, the fury of Slade's 'lessons' and the bruising, heated contact of their bodies as they fought. Tried to focus on the anger and the brutal need that filled any fighter. The need for victory. The need for dominance. For release, in it's many forms... But no matter how he tried to keep those things centered in his mind, he kept slipping back to a tender tearful smile. An honest embrace that asked nothing in return. A love so far beyond question that he couldn't break it even though he tried...
His teeth tore at his lip, ripping it back open and filling his mouth with blood to keep himself from crying out.
-Tim...-
He came, spilling over his own hand as tears spilled from his eyes and he forced himself onward to the ultimate betrayal... he unclenched his jaw, and let out a single ragged breath, blood running down his chin from the corner of his mouth...
"Slade..."
--END PART FOUR--
Chapter One: Misdirection
by: xxdeathstrokexx
dedicated to : katarik, in thanks for the expansion of my Slade art collection. ^__^
***
The fire crackled, sending a fountain of sparks up the chimney along with the sharp scent of bursting pine. Bathed in a warm amber glow, it was easy to pretend that he was happy... that he ever could be.
Dick Grayson turned a page in a book he would never read, though it was inevitably the one that he picked up on nights like these. He stared at the words, but he didn't really see them, his mind focused on the clock.
It chimed midnight... then one... then two...
A door opened floors below him and his breath caught in his throat. The stairs creaked in steady rythym with the man that climbed them, giving way just slightly, as everything seemed to before him.
Slade wouldn't enter the parlor yet. It wasn't time. His footsteps quieted as he went into the room across the hall to wash off the blood first.
Somewhere in his mind, Dick was still a child, no matter the games they played these days. He still showed those little glimmers of courtesy and compassion, flashbacks to a saner day.
Hold overs from before the real hell had begun.
This had become a ritual for them. Not a nightly thing, or even weekly... they had gone nearly three months apart while Slade was abroad... and Dick had been a wreck without the strange routine.
It had scared him, shocked him deeply. The loneliness. The boredom. The fear... The memory of it haunted him in ways that he tried to ignore.
But then... denial had always been his strong suit.
But tonight was different.
Tonight he had a surprise...
***
Slade bowed his head under the steaming water, shutting down his mind as he scrubbed the scent of death from his body. It seemed to linger these days, long after the source was gone... it lingered, clogging his senses. Making him do things he knew he shouldn't.
-When did knowing better ever stop you?- Wintergreen's voice echoed through his mind. Slade squeezed his eye shut, but his old friend would not be denied, even in death. -What do you think you're doing, Slade? He can't replace your boys... he can't be Addie, or Lili, or me... you're only hurting yourself. And you're killing him.-
Slade slammed his fist against the shower wall, grounding himself with that slight pain.
There was no turning back now... even if he had wanted to. He was no longer capable of stopping... if he ever had been.
He fought in the name of 'good' when it served him. It was hardly his fault that 'evil' paid so much better.
He turned off the water and stepped out of the shower, dripping and tired. He had never felt age the way others did.
Tonight... he felt ancient.
He dried off reluctantly and dressed with a mechanical grace. He paused for a long moment in front of his mirror before replacing his eyepatch.
-just another mask...-
Taking a deep breath, he crossed the hall... he knew Dick was there, the same way that he always knew.
The house always felt different when Dick came home... he wondered briefly what Dick would say if he knew that was the only reason he kept the house...
So that they would have somewhere to come home to. Somewhere to lick their wounds and remember the reason they fought at all. The reason they could never quit.
No matter what.
-There are other ways to make money...-
Slade snorted, pushing a hand through his still damp hair.
There were other ways to make money... but there was no other way for him to live. Seeing Dick always reminded him of that.
Without his work, without his clients, his focus, his times of controlled insanity... how many more would have needlessly died? How many innocents needlessly compromised?
And not because of the psychos that he'd put down, either.
He had broken more than a few times.
Without Dick-- without his lifestyle-- to ground him, to bring him back to himself, it would have happened a lot more.
No, that was a lie.
Without Dick, he would never have stepped back from the abyss... And as far as he knew, nothing could stop him. Not for very long at least.
If one young hero-- even the precious Nightwing-- had to be slowly destroyed to keep that from happening... so be it.
When the fate of the world rested on your sanity, there was only grey. He hadn't had the luxury of 'black' and 'white' in a very long time...
***
He could feel Slade outside the door for a long moment before it opened, and the man's hesitation confused him. His confusion melted into worry at the sight of his 'teacher', though.
-Sometimes, I am your enemy.- Slade had said, years ago. -Sometimes your teacher... and always your Master. Remember that, and perhaps you'll live.-
Dick stood, regretting his 'surprise' when sadness joined the weariness in Slade's gaze.
"Going so soon... Nightwing?" He asked, gesturing to Dick's outfit. "I thought maybe we could talk tonight."
Dick opened his mouth, meaning to end everything, meaning to tell Slade that whatever this travesty of a relationship might have been, it was over.
But, as always, when faced with the man himself, his resolve crumbled. He closed his mouth and sat back down in his chair.
"About what?"
Slade crossed the room slowly, his natural grace unmarred by a slight limp. He made mistakes when he was tired, just like anyone else... and tonight had been no exception.
"You can't hide this forever, Dick. People are starting to catch on. Bruce-- "
Dick scowled and pulled off his mask.
"Bruce has no idea-- "
"He's known from the start, Dick." Slade said softly. "And your friends aren't as stupid as they used to be."
Dick's eyes widened and he turned his gaze to the fire, twisting his mask in his hands.
"I'm careful."
"You've never been 'careful'." Slade snorted.
"No one see's me."
"You were followed."
"By who?"
"You want a list?" Slade arched an eyebrow and laid down on the couch, stretching his leg out with a sigh. "And this wasn't the first time..."
Dick didn't respond, his jaw clenched tight.
"I take trespassing very seriously, Dick... you know that. Give me one good reason why I should sit idly by while they circle like vultures and ruin what little time we have left tonight."
"Is-- "
"No... " Slade interrupted, knowing what he was going to ask. "Batman can hardly waste his time tailing you all over the city. But his new little lap dog was the easiest to spot." Slade shifted, making himself more comfortable. "I tell ya... ol' Bruce sure can pick 'em..."
Dick inhaled sharply through his nose.
"Leave Tim out of this, Slade."
"Is that jealousy I hear? I didn't know you cared..." Slade drawled.
"I won't let you pull him into this."
"I don't have to. And you couldn't stop me if I did." Slade smiled darkly and propped himself up on one elbow. "How old is he, you think?"
Dick glared into the fire.
"Fifteen?"
Dick turned his angry gaze to Slade, but still held his silence.
"Sixteen?"
Dick opened his mouth but then closed it, his eyes darkening. Slade's smile widened, showing his teeth.
"Or is he younger? Like you were when the Bat scooped you up?"
"Shut up, Slade."
"Or what? You still need me. And you know you can't beat me yet..."
"With as many reinforcements as you say I have outside?" Dick asked with a confidence he did not feel.
"I wonder how eager they'd be to fight for you if they knew what you'd really been doing all these late nights."
Dick glared, sinking back into sullen silence.
"That's what I thought... now go change. I'll meet you downstairs in a few minutes... Deathwing."
Dick stood slowly and went to 'his' room. One day he would learn that defiance wasn't worth the trouble... Until then, he would fight these tired little battles and let his friends think what they would about where he spent his nights.
--END PART ONE--
Series: Endless Spiral
Chapter Two: Misconstrued
by: xxdeathstrokexx
dedicated to: katarik, who has given me even more fodder for my Slade!angst muse... because I needed more...
***
"Calm down, Star... I'm sure there's a perfectly reasonable explanation..." Gar said, not sounding very convinced of that himself.
"That's the problem..." Tim muttered from his seat by the window, laptop closed for once. "From what I know of Slade... this is perfectly reasonable."
Starfire muttered a curse in Tamaranean and Gar jumped up in front of Tim, his hands raised placatingly.
"Whoa there, Star..." He glanced over his shoulder at Tim. "You aren't really helping, man."
"Sorry..." Tim said unapologetically. "But this wasn't exactly unexpected."
Gar waved Starfire back again, rather surprised that she hadn't started blasting yet.
"Yeah, well... cooperating with Slade to save the world is one thing, but this..." Gar grimaced and shook his head. "What does Batman have to say about it?"
Tim stared out the rain darkened window.
"Nothing... we haven't talked about it."
Gar transformed into a bull.
Tim watched his reflection for a long moment before looking at Gar.
"He knows something... but he's not sharing."
"That's new." Conner said, coming down the stairs. Tim perked up considerably at the sight of him.
"Any news?"
Conner shook his head, shoving his hands deep into his pockets.
"They don't call it the Fortress of Solitude for nothing... But I think he knows something's going on. Something big. And he's not doing anything about it..."
Gar snorted and changed back to human form.
"Didn't really expect him to..."
Conner shrugged, his eyes still on Tim.
"No luck with Batman either, huh?" He asked, and Tim simply shook his head. "Figures... Look, why don't we just ask Nightwing what's going on? No one else is gonna tell us squat."
Gar rolled his eyes, but before he could retort, Bart seemingly appeared on the arm of the couch, swinging his feet.
"You know, it's no wonder you're bullet proof... how dense can you be?"
Conner glared and crossed his arms, but Tim intervened, laying a hand lightly on Conner's shoulder.
"Bart's right..." He said, and Bart beamed at him. "We can't just walk up to him and ask him if he's--"
"Wrath of X'hal!" Starfire growled, but Tim barely missed a beat.
"-- sleeping with Slade."
The window shattered behind him, making his cloak swirl in the sudden wind. He didn't even flinch.
"We need a plan."
***
Kneeling in the darkness, his hands pressed to the wall, Dick tried to catch his breath. The sharp, coppery taste of blood tainted each exhalation, but he couldn't fold.
Not now.
Not ever.
He couldn't let Slade beat him-- again-- even in training.
Fingers tangled in his hair, wrenching his head back harshly, the tendons in his neck quivering from the strain. He gasped with the pain of it, glaring up at Slade's bare face from behind his own battered mask.
Slade never wore his during 'sessions'.
The change was more than a little disconcerting.
-I only wear it when I'm working...- Slade had explained the one time Dick had commented on it. -This, I do for fun.-
Slade's grip tightened, bringing Dick back to the present.
"Fading out already, boy? We've barely even started..." He pulled Dick to his feet, pushing him against the wall. "If you can't handle it, just say so...." He leaned in close, hissing against Dick's hair. "I'll end it now and put us both out of this misery."
"Not a chance, Slade..." Dick ground out between clenched teeth. He managed to push back against Slade far enough to gain purchase with one foot on the wall. Kicking off as hard as he could, he sent them both backwards... but he wasn't ready when Slade lost his footing and they both fell in a heap. He laid stunned on top of Slade for a second before rolling clear, ignoring the ache in his scalp as well as all the other aches he had incurred over the course of this lesson.
"Very good... much better this time." Slade said, propping himself up on one elbow and looking over his handiwork. He barely had a scratch on him, as usual... but then again, Dick wasn't nearly as roughed up as he usually was. "I think that'll do for tonight."
Dick reached down to help Slade to his feet without even thinking about it. Slade smirked at him and accepted his hand, not releasing it once he was standing. He pulled Dick toward him, murmuring, "Good boy..." Dick tried to pull his hand away, but Slade's grip tightened painfully, his expression suddenly dark and unfathomable.
"Slade..."
Slade shook his head and let go, pushing Dick away.
"Go," He said bitterly. "You're friends will be wondering what I've done to you this time..."
Dick opened his mouth, but instead of speaking he turned away and headed for the stairs, burying all trace of his desire to stay...
***
"You can't just--"
"Yes I can."
"You have to--"
"No I don't."
"But it's your responsibility to--"
"No," Bruce said, finally turning away from the fire to look at Clark. "What happens in Jump is none of my business. He's made that abundantly clear."
"But Wilson--"
"Speculation."
"They say Dick is working for him."
"You heard what else 'they're' saying, didn't you?" Bruce drawled, raising an eyebrow. Clark simply stared at him. "Not you too..."
Clark shook his head.
"I just think you have to face the fact that it's possible..." He smiled wanely. "Like surrogate superhero father..." He trailed off.
"Conner too, huh?" Bruce asked, turning back to the fire. Clark looked surprised.
"Don't talk to Tim much anymore, do you?"
Bruce glanced at him and then away, leaning against the mantle, but didn't say anything.
"Just talk to Deathstroke, Bruce..." Clark said, sighing. "You're the only one he'll listen to anymore."
"That's where you're wrong, Clark... he listens to Dick." He took a deep breath, closing his eyes. "He needs him. More than I do."
Clark moved closer, laying a hand on Bruce's shoulder.
"Sometimes... you have to do the right thing, no matter who it hurts..."
--END PART TWO--
Series: Endless Spiral
Chapter Three: Misgivings
by: xxdeathstrokexx
dedicated to: katarik, damn her and her inspiration!
***
He stood on the roof of the Tower for a long time, staring off into the the darker night far below, the water untouched by the city's garish lights. Even knowing that it was inevitable, he didn't want to face his friends.
With all his new bruises, he knew exactly what they would think and he couldn't face their disgust, or Starfire's anger...
Or Tim's unfathomable understanding.
He closed his eyes, letting himself drift in the night breeze, in the spaces between the moon shadows, the deep ache in his muscles slowly leeching out into the darkness.
"How long were you planning on standing there, Tim?" He asked a deeper shadow behind his back without opening his eyes.
"Until you noticed I was here." Tim replied evenly. He didn't even sound surprised anymore when Dick knew he was there... then again, he was used to dealing with Bruce.
Dick half turned, knowing how his profile looked in the moonlight.
-like a hero- he thought with a bitter sadness that only served to strengthen his resolve.
"I always notice." He said, his tone a careful mixture of fondness and reproach. "And I'm not the only one."
Tim crossed the roof, drawn forward by invisible bonds, all but disappearing in the shadows that swept over the moon. The wind caught his cloak as the clouds moved on and his face was suddenly, sharply visible. For one agonizing instant Dick saw a reflection of himself... not just the costume, the persona... but the boy, forced to grow up in so many ways, and abandoned to the ravages of fate and ignorance in so many others.
"You don't have to do this, Dick..." Tim said, quiet but firm, the damp night air echoing with his need to believe the simple statement. "What ever he tells you, what ever you think you owe him. You don't have to-- "
"Stop."
"Just come home, Dick... He misses you. I know he does."
Dick faced Tim, his mask-less eyes troubled in the dark.
"No. Tell him I have a new home now, Tim... and stay clear."
"Dick-- "
"I'm serious, Robin." Dick said with deliberate, calculated harshness. "If I see you there, " He turned his back to Tim again. "Slade will be the least of your worries."
"You don't mean that."
"Don't test the theory, kid."
He could feel Tim's rage and pain behind him like a rising wall of water that threatened to crush him... but it was the understanding, the compassion that drove a spike of pure self-loathing through his heart. He grabbed the line that he had used to climb to the roof and descended back into the dark.
-where I belong...-
***
Tim watched the sky for a long while after Dick vanished from sight. He held his features carefully blank as Conner laid a hand on his shoulder.
"I knew..." Tim murmured, shaking his head. "But it's different now."
Conner didn't say a word as he pulled Tim to his chest, wrapping his arms around the smaller boy. He didn't have to, and Tim didn't give him the chance.
"There's more to it, somehow... He said-- " He leaned his head back against Conner's shoulder, closing his eyes. "He said he has a new home... Coming from him, that's as good as saying--" He tensed, his features twisting. "This is my fault..."
Conner took Tim by the shoulders and turned him around, shaking his head.
"How do you figure? Aside from the fact that you've taken up Batman's habit of self-punishment. Or is that only since you met me?"
"Conner... I-- " Tim began, but Conner cut him off.
"Before you say anything... this isn't your fault. You didn't drive them apart, and you definitely didn't make Nightwing-- Well, you know..." He shrugged and Tim frowned.
"You don't know them like I do."
"No. I don't. And you can never see them like other people do, Tim." He pulled Tim close again, glaring into the night.
-I swear... if he comes back here again, I'll kick his ass...- He thought angrily. He'd be damned if he was going to let any of them hurt Tim again... even if it meant going against his own mentor...
***
"No," Bruce said, rounding on Clark, his eyes darkly livid. "You don't understand."
"Then explain it to me. I'm a smart guy... make me understand."
"This is my fault."
"Repeating a false statement doesn't make it true, Bruce."
"Tell that to your editing staff." Bruce snapped, pacing the length of the bookcase. He stopped suddenly, pushing a hand through his hair. "What is it about you that gets under my skin like this?"
Clark gave a small smile.
"I'm honest. You can't handle it."
Bruce shook his head.
"I've made a lot of mistakes in my life... and so many of them involve Dick... even if it's not, this is my fault." He pulled his mask on, his face suddenly unreadable.
"Where are you going?" Clark asked, catching Bruce's elbow as he turned to leave.
"Don't worry... I won't do anything stupid." Bruce snorted, gently pulling his arm free.
"I'm not so sure I trust you when it comes to them..." Clark said, dropping his hand to his side and shaking his head.
"I'm not sure I trust myself... but really, I'm just going on patrol. You should get home."
Clark frowned. They both knew that neither Metropolis nor Gotham were 'home' any longer. They never really had been. Home was a tiny farm in Kansas and a moment stolen away from the world at a price too steep to pay very often.
"Stay. It's still early..."
"These days... it's always too late."
***
Dick was only vaguely surprised to find the door unlocked. He walked into the pitch black house with a strange sense of relief.
It scared him... the feeling. He shouldn't want to be here. Shouldn't want to be near Slade, after all he'd been through.
-shouldn't want a lot of things...-
But he couldn't stop himself from identifying, from understanding... the same way that Tim understood him...
-not the same...-
It was close enough.
The more he learned about Slade, the more they went through together... the more he found himself wanting to be back here, in this house, with a man that had tried to kill him and everyone he cared about more times than he could count. He told himself it was so he could keep an eye on a potential ally... or a proven enemy.
He tried not to think about all the other reasons he came back.
"I wasn't expecting you... I sent you home." Slade said from the shadow of the staircase.
Now he wouldn't have to 'come back'...
"I am home."
You can't come back to a place you've never left.
"It's about time, boy... I've been waiting."
--END PART THREE--
Series: Endless Spiral
Chapter Four: Misconduct
by: xxdeathstrokexx
pairing: Slade/Dick, Dick/Tim, [implied Dick/Bruce, and a hint of Slade/Tim]
rating: Movin' on up... Rated: R, for a non-explict solo shower tango...
dedicated to : katarik and yami... for inspiration and feeding the praise beast. ^__~
A/N: Okay, this is so totally AU... but I will address some of the big issues that people have brought up... I haven't read anything beyond the scans that Katarik has been nice enough to send me [oh yeah, that's why I'm writing this... ^__~] and a bunch of the old Deathstroke the Terminator comics... just keep that in mind. And, though Slade addressed Dick as 'Deathwing' in Chapter One, I don't think that's how Dick thinks of himself... it was more mocking than anything... you'll see what I mean.
Soundtrack: The Foo Fighters, One By One [the whole album...]
***
Dick sat in the pitch black room-- His pitch black room, now-- and went over and over his confrontation with Tim. He hadn't meant to talk to him at all... it was too painful to lie to him, to drive him away... but perhaps it would be better this way.
A clean break.
He snorted and stood, walking to the window-like door and pushing it open. He walked out onto the balcony, the moonlight disappearing into the unbroken black of his new costume. He leapt up on the railing, balancing easily, his eyes tracking a fast paced shadow that moved against the wind, sweeping up toward him on invisible strands of night.
"I told you to stay clear." He growled, falling into an unconscious Slade impression... or maybe it was Bruce...
"And I told you: you don't mean that." Tim retorted, swinging up onto the balcony easily.
Dick settled a mask of anger and disdain over his features, but inside, he was proud and more than a little impressed. He had warned Tim, and though a part of him had known the boy wouldn't listen, that spark of defiance and confidence never ceased to amaze him.
"This has nothing to do with you, Tim. Go home."
"You're only half right, Dick. This is about you, and because you're my brother, it's about me, too."
A perception inside Dick shifted and he scowled, hissing, "You're not my brother, Tim."
Tim flinched, obviously deeply hurt by that. In that moment, more than any other, Dick hated himself for what he was doing.
"Are you telling me *everything* we've been through in the last three years means nothing to you?" Tim asked, and something in his voice made Dick look over at him.
-No... don't you start crying, kid... not that...- He thought, clenching his hands into fists. He knew that Slade was watching, that he'd pay for this in blood and bruises later... but he couldn't just stand there and let Tim think he didn't care...
"Of course not! I--Tim--" Dick stepped forward, and hugged him impulsively.
-Tim, I'm sorry...- His mind filled in as his voice gave out. Despite everything, he was pretty sure that Slade couldn't read his thoughts... not like Bruce could. Or even likeTim... -Maybe someday you'll understand... that it was all for you.-
Tim clung to him, his face buried against Dick's chest, and Dick allowed himself to stroke the boy's hair. If this was the last time he'd get to [for god only knew how long] he thought he could afford a little indulgence. As long as he was willing to pay later...
"God, Tim." He breathed, shaking his head. "Just tell me what I have to do to make you feel comfortable enough with this that you'll go home." Because as much as he didn't want him to go, every passing moment was a moment closer to Slade snapping. To Slade deciding that Tim was a threat... or worse...
"I'm not giving up. Dick, this isn't *right*. You have to see that. You can't keep blaming yourself for a moment's weakness."
Dick pulled back, looking down into Tim's obscured eyes and seeing right through the mask.
"Wait--This is about that? Not..." He swallowed and blushed. 'Me and Slade', was what he had been about to say. Even though it wasn't 'like that', everyone [including Tim] thought that it was... it had never occured to Dick that Tim wasn't here to save him from that... that he didn't know that Slade had already saved Dick from himself.
"If you're talking about you and Wilson, I can't judge you about that. You've known Wilson longer then I have, and if you think that he's the one, I don't have anything to say against it."
-The one?- He thought, a small part of his mind amused by Tim's naivete.
"Tim." Dick murmured breathily, the name catching in his throat. Relief poured through him, tainted with despair over how easily everyone believed his cover... but then, Tim hadn't been surprised about his costume change.
-If he knows...- Bruce knew. Bruce knew and he hadn't done anything... but even the idea that Bruce somehow believed that he was 'with' Slade couldn't abate his overwhelming elation. If Tim wasn't disgusted by the mere thought of him and Slade [of him and any man...], then maybe there was hope for a future he hadn't even allowed himself to dream about...
"All I'm saying Dick, is that you don't have to 'go to the dark side' for this." Tim said, and it took Dick a moment to remember what he was talking about... it had been so long since he had been able to just talk to Tim. It was astounding to realize how much he didn't know. How much Bruce--
-Batman.- A little voice in the back of his mind corrected. It sounded suspiciously like Slade...
-- hadn't told him. But then, Bruce had always been big on misdirection and misinformation.
"Tim... you don't understand." Dick began, but a shadow caught his eye and he froze, Slade's presence almost tangible in the distance. He leaned down, holding Tim to his chest for a second, and whispered into his ear. "You have to go. Now." Dick pressed a kiss to the boy's cheek and then moved away, grabbing his shoulder and pushing him toward the railing. He made his voice harsh and angry, though his eyes were filled with apology. "Remember what I told you, Robin. This was your last chance. Next time..." He let the threat hang on the air and watched Tim hesitate. For one agonizing moment, he thought that Tim was going to turn and confront the shadows... but he only shook his head and leapt back into the night.
"We," Slade drawled, gliding forward out of the gloom, moonlight gleaming on his white hair and glinting in his eye. "Have to talk."
***
Dick followed Slade at a distance, knowing that it would be better-- if not easier-- if he didn't resist... yet.
"I'm disappointed, boy..." Slade drawled, leading the way down through the house at a leisurely pace. "I thought you'd gotten the hint the other night."
They entered one of the training rooms and Slade stopped, his back still toward Dick.
"Do I need to make an example?"
Dick tensed, swallowing his retort. Nothing he could say at this point would help... it was too early in the 'lesson' for him to get emotional.
"You have to leave them all behind, become a new person..." Slade half turned, his 'blind' side to Dick. "Either you cut ties with them... or I do it for you. It has always been your choice."
Dick shivered slightly. If this was the kind of mood Slade was in, waiting would only make it worse. He clenched his jaw and launched himself at Slade.
Slade didn't even move. Dick's fist connected solidly with the side of Slade's head, and the man started to crumple. Dick's eyes widened, and it was almost comforting when Slade kicked his legs out from beneath him and caught him in the sternum with his elbow.
Dick grunted, falling to the ground with a heavy thud, trying to catch his breath before the next attack came. Slade backhanded him when Dick rose to his knees, sending him sprawling again.
"This is different, isn't it?" Slade said, too quietly.
-Yes...-
"No..." Dick gasped when Slade's foot hit his shoulder and he hit the floor on his back, staring up at Slade, dazed.
"Don't lie to me, boy... you never could."
Dick licked his lips, tasting his own blood. He didn't try to stand, simply shifting his postioning on the floor and watching Slade's gaze follow him.
"No... I can't." He said simply, taking the moment to recover slightly. Slade's eye narrowed and he strode forward, grabbing a fist full of Dick's hair.
"You're learning, kid... but not nearly fast enough."
He hauled Dick to his feet and released his hair, something blankly sinister in his eye. Dick recognized it... the same unfathomable darkness that had filled his gaze after every major tragedy that they had inevitably weathered together. It struck a fear into Dick's heart that he hadn't felt since the darkest days of his fight against this man... the days that had shaped him into the man he was now.
"I'm only goin' to say this once, Grayson..." Slade said, voice oddly gruff, at odds with his dead stare. "You'd better start fighting back."
***
Dick winced as he pulled off his uniform, not bothering to wipe the blood from his face.
-if this is what it costs to keep him safe... I'll pay it for the rest of my life...- He thought determinedly, dropping the ripped fabric to the blank white tiles of the bathroom floor. He turned the water on as hot as it would go and stood there, catching his breath and waiting for the steam to build. He knew how stiff his bruised muscles would be in the morning, and despite how tired he was, he hated to sleep bloody...
His mind wasn't really on either his weariness or his pain, though... it was seated a little lower, and the implications made him burn with shame. He had always had a masochistic streak... you couldn't really be in this line of work without developing one. And he had to at least pretend to believe that it was Slade's thrashing that had turned him on...
He shook his head and stepped into the shower, hissing sharply as the water pummeled his bruised and abraded flesh, the heat slowly seeping into his abused muscles. He sighed, rinsing his hair and finally washing the blood from his nose and mouth. Slade had been less controlled with his 'lesson' this evening... more furious, more passionate, more dangerous than Dick had seen him since... well, since Rose had shown up. He'd been slowly building back into his old self ever since, the way smoke builds in a small room, but somewhere in the back of his mind Dick feared that some dreadful wind would come and sweep the smoke away, returning Slade to the passionless killer he had been in the wake of his loss... Or worse, that it would fan this fleeting spark into a tempest of hell fire that none of them could douse.
If he had to endure Slade wrath and domination to keep that from happening, that was another price he was willing to pay for the rest of his life. With his life, if necessary. If only to keep this tenuous equilibrium between ice and fire... Slade had to be steam. Like the steam all around him now, scalding his skin like Slade's touch did in his darkest dreams...
-that has to be why...- He thought desperately, taking stock of his injuries as he rubbed one hand over a long graze on his ribs, his fingers twitching to glide lower. He screwed his eyes closed, blood and bile mixing in the back of his throat as he took himself in hand.
He hadn't, not in the whole time he had been living under Slade's roof... he hadn't indulged for one simple reason.
He knew that Slade was watching. He was always watching.
-this is the price I'll pay...-
-to keep him safe...-
-to keep them all safe...-
He tried to focus on the pain, the fury of Slade's 'lessons' and the bruising, heated contact of their bodies as they fought. Tried to focus on the anger and the brutal need that filled any fighter. The need for victory. The need for dominance. For release, in it's many forms... But no matter how he tried to keep those things centered in his mind, he kept slipping back to a tender tearful smile. An honest embrace that asked nothing in return. A love so far beyond question that he couldn't break it even though he tried...
His teeth tore at his lip, ripping it back open and filling his mouth with blood to keep himself from crying out.
-Tim...-
He came, spilling over his own hand as tears spilled from his eyes and he forced himself onward to the ultimate betrayal... he unclenched his jaw, and let out a single ragged breath, blood running down his chin from the corner of his mouth...
"Slade..."
--END PART FOUR--