"We do what we must for those we care for, even if it means sacrificing ourselves to do it." -Me

Mary Grayson was a beautiful woman. She held such a natural talent for the spotlight, that any room became her room the moment she step foot into it. Her grace was unrivaled. The slow, seductive sway of her hips as she walked, the careful distribution of weight to her feet. Unrivaled. The way she cared for her child, that unwavering gaze, filled to the brim with as much love a mother could give. Willing to give. Playing hide-and-seek around the circus tents and baking cookies. The perfect Mother.

Mary Grayson was a beautiful woman, but only on the outside. Inside, Mary Grayson could rival Lucifer himself. Her wicked and cruel nature remained hidden to most, only her husband and Pop Haley knew the whole truth. And no matter how much Mary wanted to change, to do better, the apple never really falls far from the tree, does it?

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There was something off about the way the kid moved, Deathstroke decided after they'd made it to his safe house. The kid didn't walk like some of the heroes he'd fought before. His gait held something more...predatory. Something that Slade recognized, but didn't know. It was rather frustrating, however, it wasn't the only weird thing about him.

The way he loomed over Slade's shoulders while he rushed to fix Jason was a little odd, although, he could've just been concerned. The way he tilted his head and shuffled his feet made Slade's brain scream out in warning. It's like he was always anticipating an attack. It's the little things, the tiny, minuscule details that nobody ever notices. Those are the things that can tell you everything you want to know about a person. Those are the things you need to watch out for.

Slade grabbed another wad of combat gauze as he attempted to staunch the bleeding. Jason's wound looked a lot worse than it actually was, thankfully. He nodded his head back, towards Nightwing, motioning for him to approach. He had to kick him out earlier, the kid's rapid pacing -no matter how quiet it was- had gotten rather annoying.

"Can you grab the sterile needle and thread for me? They're under the coffee table," Deathstroke half asked, half commanded.

Nightwing nodded his head after an awkward moment of staring, and grabbed the supplies as instructed. Slade held his hand out, patiently waiting, and got to work quickly after Nightwing handed him the items.

Slade glanced back when he heard the familiar shuffle- the one he'd grown to recognize these past few hours- move behind him. "Calm down kid, Jason's going to be fine. He's strong," Slade spoke and turned around, finding only that the kid was gone. Gone as in, no longer in the building. Sighing, Slade rolled his shoulders and focused back onto Jason, pulling another stitch. At least it would be quieter.

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He couldn't take it anymore, watching Deathstroke try to fix Jason. He hated how he couldn't do anything. Useless, that was it, he felt useless. Dick couldn't even think of a time when he'd been this useless. The Court always had something for him to do, to keep him busy. They were always keeping him busy, and when he wasn't busy, he was frozen. A rather simple concept to grasp.

When Deathstroke asked for something, for a second, Dick tried to reply. Tried to use his newly found voice to actually answer, but it didn't work. Instead, his throat tightened up and his mouth became as dry as a desert. His tongue felt thick and heavy in his mouth, and his breathing might've become a bit hard. Any words that he'd wanted to say died before they'd even started. He couldn't speak. And maybe he never could.

Giving up on his voice, Dick nodded to Deathstroke and handed him the items, walking back towards the wall. It'd been three hours since Jason fell unconscious. Shouldn't he be waking up soon? Shouldn't he have woken up already? Dick let himself fall into a fast pace, walking between the couch and the wall. Useless. The Court would have frozen him for something like this, this...failure. Jason should've gotten out of there unharmed. If only he'd taken Superman out faster. Maybe if he'd never gotten captured in the first place, Jason would be fine. Maybe Dick should've been the one to get hurt. At least he would come back if he died. Jason wouldn't.

He needed air. Dick needed to clear his head and come up with a plan. Maybe he won't be as useless then. After all, they'd just made a deal with Batman.

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He was cold as he flew across the Gotham rooftops. It wasn't so much as the chilled to the bone kind of cold, more like the numbing kind. The kind that made you stop shivering and just forget. The kind that made Dick forget how useless he'd become.

Dick paused on a lone rooftop and quickly surveyed the area. Batman probably wasn't out patrolling so soon after the fight at the mountain -at least Dick hoped he wasn't. It wouldn't do him any good to get caught by the Bat while collecting his old...uniform. He had to be careful. His plan -not a very good one, but a plan nonetheless- was to use Talon to infiltrate the Light. It shouldn't be too hard considering Dick's uniform had enough gold ornaments and tassels to show he's of higher rank. And, if they need proof of him being a Talon, they could look at his skin or kill him. The only difficult thing was actually getting invited to the Light.

Dick slipped down the side of his building, crawling in through a broken window, and walked towards the center of the room. His warehouse. Crouching down, he felt the floor with his fingers, looking for the frame of his hidey-hole. Finding it, Dick removed the top, reached down, and pulled out an old wooden chest. Putting the top back on, he tugged the chest away and opened it slowly. This is it. His entire life. The life he'd tried to leave behind. Was it really worth it? Doing this for Batman and possibly getting back on the Courts radar? Was it?

Dick's chest -his life- contained his old Talon uniform, all his knifes, and his carefully decorated katanas. Dick was the Talon, and the Court wanted everyone to know that by just looking at him.

Dick sighed and threw the katanas over his back and slung his knives across his chest. The suit, he carefully folded and held close to his chest. Nightwing shouldn't be seen leaving with this. Not with the Court was always watching.

It didn't take long for Dick to make it back to Deathstroke's safe house. Apparently it was only a few blocks away, something he hadn't noticed initially. Stupid.

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Dick walked hesitantly into the main room where Deathstroke hovered over Jason. He wasn't poking and prodding, nor was he stitching. He was simply just staring. Maybe Jason had woken up?

Dick walked up beside the man and waited patiently for a few moments, hoping that his presence would cause Deathstroke to speak.

It didn't. It didn't even look like Deathstroke knew he was there, so Dick did something stupid. He poked him. Right in the ribs.

Deathstroke jolted back, "What the fu- Oh it's you," he half shouted, lowering the pistol he'd pulled.

Dick pointed down to Jason and tilted his head to the side.

"Oh Jason. He should be fine, the wound wasn't as bad as it looked. In fact he should be waking up soon," Deathstroke said casually and took a seat on the adjacent couch, leaving Dick to stand alone. "What are you holding?"

Dick tilted his head again, looking away, and let his uniform unravel in his arms, displaying it for the mercenary. Hopefully he didn't try to attack Dick when he recognized it.

Deathstroke was silent for a few moments before he stood up again, only this time, it was in a defensive stance. "Is that what I think it is?" He asked, pointing to the black suit.

Not knowing what else to do, Dick nodded his head cautiously and readied himself. No matter how much Jason cared for the man, Dick would defend himself.

"Does Jason know?"

Dick froze. No Jason doesn't know. He was never supposed to know. It would scare him away, and Dick would become a monster again. A societal reject with no friends. No, Jason doesn't know. Jason wouldn't know.

"Does Jason know?" Deathstroke asked again, raising his voice loudly, moving his hand to rest on the hilt of his sword.

"Does Jason know what?"

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Hey everyone! I'm alive! Yes, this chapter is short, but, it marks my return to writing. Yay!

What did you think of this chapter? Did you like it? Any favorite part? Quote? Let me know and leave a comment. The reply doesn't even have to be about the chapter. It could just be a hello and welcome back. idk.

Welp, I think I'll leave it at this. I need to wake up early tomorrow for a briefing. *sigh*

Til next time,

Rachel