Chapter 1: "Ghosts and Choices"
Chapter Text
The Watchtower's training room echoed with the rhythmic *thwack-thwack-thwack* of fists meeting reinforced padding.
Dick Grayson, Nightwing, moved through his kata with mechanical precision, each strike perfect, each movement calculated.
But his mind was somewhere else entirely.
"You and I, we're more alike than you want to admit, kid."
Slade's voice, always Slade's voice, echoing in the back of his head like a ghost that refused to be exorcised.
Dick's next punch hit harder than intended, nearly tearing the bag from its moorings.
"Easy there, dude. That bag's got like, three more years of warranty."
Dick stopped mid-strike, breathing hard, and turned to see Wally West leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed, that familiar cocky grin on his face. Still strange, seeing him there. Alive. Real. After months of thinking he was gone forever, scattered across the Speed Force like so much cosmic dust.
Dick (grabbing his water bottle, voice carefully neutral): "Shouldn't you be at home with Artemis? Pretty sure she threatened to shoot anyone who kept you out past midnight."
Wally (pushing off the doorframe, walking closer): "It's 11:47. I've got thirteen minutes. Besides, she's on monitor duty with M'gann. And you've been in here for three hours, so..."
Dick took a long drink, avoiding Wally's eyes.
Dick: "I'm fine."
Wally (stopping a few feet away): "That's what you always say right before you do something stupid and self-destructive. I've known you since we were eleven, man. I know your tells."
Dick set down the water bottle, turning back to the training bag.
Dick: "I said I'm fine, Wally."
Wally (voice softening): "Dick. Come on, man. Talk to me. Is this about Zee?"
Dick's hands stilled on the bag.
Just hearing her name did things to his chest, made everything more complicated.
Zatanna.
Beautiful, brilliant, infuriating Zatanna, who'd kissed him in the ruins of the Team's victory over the Reach, who'd looked at him with those dark, knowing eyes and said, "We need to talk about us, Dick. Really talk."
That had been two weeks ago.
Two weeks of carefully choreographed avoidance, of missions that kept them on opposite sides of the country, of conversations that never quite happened because someone always needed something.
Dick (voice tight): "It's not about Zatanna."
Wally (unconvinced): "Uh-huh. So you've been beating the crap out of that bag for three hours because you're fine and it has nothing to do with the fact that you've been in love with her since you were like, thirteen? And she finally made a move after you two broke up and now you're running scared?"
Dick spun around, eyes flashing.
Dick: "I am not running scared."
Wally (holding up his hands): "Okay, okay. Bad choice of words. You're ‘tactically repositioning to evaluate all possible outcomes before committing to a course of action’. Better?"
Despite himself, Dick felt his mouth twitch. Almost a smile.
Dick (sighing, running a hand through his sweat-damp hair): "It's complicated."
Wally (moving to sit on the nearby bench): "Relationships usually are. Doesn't mean they're not worth it.", he paused, his expression softening, "Artemis and I, we almost didn't happen because I was too scared to tell her how I felt. But you know that we made it work, and then I got stuck in the Speed Force? All I could think about was all the time I'd wasted being afraid."
Dick looked at his best friend, his living best friend, still a minor miracle, and felt something in his chest loosen slightly.
Dick (sitting down next to him): "What if I screw it up? We're finally in a good place as friends. The whole Team is. If Zee and I try this and it goes south—"
Wally: "Then you deal with it. Like adults. Like the heroes you both are.", he bumped Dick's shoulder, "But you won't know unless you actually talk to her. And I mean really talk, not those surface-level conversations you've been having in mission briefings."
Dick opened his mouth to respond when his phone buzzed. He pulled it out, frowning at the screen.
Unknown number. Text message.
(Unknown): “Been a while, kid. We should catch up. You know where to find me. —S”
Dick's blood ran cold.
Slade.
Wally (noticing Dick's expression): "What is it?"
Dick (locking his phone, voice carefully controlled): "Nothing. Just... work stuff."
Wally gave him a look that said he didn't believe that for a second, but before he could push, the training room doors slid open.
And there she was.
Zatanna Zatara, in full costume with her signature top hat, fishnets, and tailcoat fresh from patrol. Her dark hair was slightly mussed, a smudge of ash on one cheek, and she was beautiful in that dangerous, magnetic way that had always made Dick's brain short-circuit.
Her eyes found his immediately, and for a moment, the entire world narrowed to just the two of them.
Zatanna (voice carefully neutral): "Wally. Dick. Didn't know anyone was still here."
Wally (standing up, grinning): "Just leaving, actually. Gotta get home before Artemis sends out a search party.", he clapped Dick on the shoulder, leaning in to whisper, "Talk. To. Her."
Then he was gone in a blur of yellow and red, and Dick was alone with Zatanna.
The silence stretched between them, heavy with everything unsaid.
Zatanna (moving toward the training mats): "Rough night?"
Dick (standing, very aware of how he must look—tank top, sweaty, exhausted): "Could say that. You?"
Zatanna (pulling off her top hat, setting it aside): "Cult in Manhattan trying to summon something nasty. I convinced them not to. Persuasively."
Dick (a ghost of a smile): "Persuasively?"
Zatanna (turning to face him, and there was that dangerous glint in her eyes): "I can be very persuasive when I want to be."
The air between them crackled with tension, the kind that had been building for years, through missions and near-misses and stolen glances and almosts.
Dick (taking a step closer): "Zee, about what you said. After the Reach—"
Zatanna (also stepping closer): "I meant it. Every word. We need to talk about us, Dick. About what this is. What it could be."
Dick: "I know. I've been... I've been trying to figure out what to say."
Zatanna (close enough now that he could smell her perfume, jasmine and something darker, spicier): "How about you start with the truth? Do you want this? Us?"
Dick looked at her, really looked at her. At the girl who'd joined the Team back when they were still kids and immediately became one of his best friends. Who'd seen him at his worst and never flinched. Who made him laugh and challenged him and understood him in ways most people never could.
Who kissed him that New Year after they rescued the League from Vandal Savage’s mind control. Who he'd been in love with for years but broke it off because he was too scared—too damaged by Bruce's distance and Jason's death at the time—to do anything about.
The phone in his pocket felt like it weighed a thousand pounds.
"We should catch up."
Slade. Always Slade, lurking in the shadows of his life, a reminder of all the darkness Dick carried, all the ways he wasn't quite the hero everyone thought he was.
How could he drag Zatanna into that?
But then she reached up, cupping his face with one hand, thumb brushing his cheekbone, and everything else fell away.
Zatanna (voice soft, vulnerable in a way she rarely was): "I'm not asking for perfect, Dick. I'm asking for real. For honesty. I know you've got secrets. I know you've got shadows. So do I. My dad's Doctor Fate's host now. I'm a Justice League member at twenty. I've done things with my magic, even if it was in self-defense. I'm not some innocent civilian who needs protecting from the darkness."
Dick (covering her hand with his): "I know. I know you're not. It's just—", he stopped, struggling for words, "You deserve better than someone who's still trying to figure out who he is. Better than someone with so much baggage—"
Zatanna (interrupting, fierce): "I deserve someone who loves me. Someone who sees me, all of me, and doesn't run. Do you love me, Dick Grayson?"
The question hung in the air between them, impossible to dodge, impossible to deflect.
Dick had spent years perfecting the art of evasion, of hiding behind masks and practiced smiles and carefully crafted personas.
But standing here, with Zatanna looking at him like he was the only thing in the world that mattered, he found he didn't want to hide anymore.
Dick (voice rough, honest): "Yes. God, yes. I love you, Zee. I've loved you for years."
Zatanna's breath caught, and then she was kissing him.
Not gentle, not tentative, but fierce, claiming, and absolutely perfect.
Dick's arms came around her waist, pulling her closer, and she made a small sound against his mouth that sent electricity down his spine. Her fingers tangled in his hair, and he tasted magic on her lips, felt the crackle of energy that always surrounded her.
When they finally broke apart, both breathing hard, Zatanna was smiling.
Zatanna (slightly breathless): "Took you long enough."
Dick (grinning despite himself): "I'm a dumbass."
Zatanna: "Yes. But you're my dumbass now."
She kissed him again, softer this time, and Dick felt something he hadn't felt in a long time:
Hope.
Maybe this could work. Maybe he could have this, have her, despite everything.
Maybe—
His phone buzzed again.
He almost ignored it. Almost.
But years of training, of being Batman's partner, made him check.
Another text from the unknown number.
(Unknown): “Clock's ticking, kid. I'm not getting any younger. Neither are you. Three days. Or else I come to you. —S”
Dick's blood turned to ice.
Zatanna (pulling back, noticing his expression): "What is it?"
Dick (locking his phone, forcing a smile): "Nothing. Just Bruce being Bruce. Probably wants to lecture me about something."
Zatanna gave him a look that said she knew he was lying but was choosing not to push. For now.
Zatanna (softly): "Dick. You just told me you love me. Don't start this—us—with lies."
Dick (guilt twisting in his gut): "It's not. It's… complicated. Old stuff. I promise I'll tell you. Just... not tonight. Tonight I just want—"
Zatanna (understanding): "Tonight you just want this."
Dick (pulling her closer): "Yeah."
Zatanna (resting her forehead against his): "Okay. Tonight we get to just be Dick and Zatanna, not Nightwing and Zatanna the Mistress of Magic. But tomorrow, or soon, we talk. Really talk. About all of it. Deal?"
Dick (knowing she was right, knowing he owed her that): "Deal."
They stood there for a long moment, wrapped in each other, the training room quiet around them.
Outside, the Watchtower continued its eternal orbit, and the world kept turning, and somewhere in the shadows, Slade Wilson waited.
But here, now, Dick let himself have this.
Her.
Even if he knew it couldn't last.
Even if he knew the ghosts were coming.
Even if he knew that in three days, everything would change.
For now, this was enough.
Chapter 2: "The Meeting"
Summary:
Dick shouldn't be here, he should've just left that text on read, then blocked and deleted the number.
But he finds himself meeting up with Slade anyway...
Chapter Text
The abandoned warehouse in Blüdhaven's industrial district looked like every other condemned building in this god-forsaken city.
Rusted metal, broken windows, graffiti-tagged walls, and the perpetual stench of decay and desperation.
Dick Grayson stood in the shadows near the entrance, dressed in full Nightwing gear, escrima sticks magnetic-locked to his back. He'd arrived fifteen minutes early, scoped the perimeter, identified three exits, and mapped out seventeen potential combat advantages.
Old habits.
Batman's training never left you, no matter how far you ran.
His comm was off. He'd told the Team he was following up on a lead about a drug shipment. Told Bruce he was taking a personal day. Told Zatanna—
He pushed that thought away.
“Don't think about her. Not here. Not now.”
Three days had passed since that kiss in the training room. Three days of stolen moments between missions, of Zatanna's smile making everything seem possible, of falling asleep with her voice on the phone because they couldn't quite bring themselves to say goodnight.
Three days of the best and worst kind of happiness, because he knew it was borrowed time.
"You're early."
The voice came from behind him—impossible, he'd checked—and Dick spun, escrima sticks already in hand.
Slade Wilson stepped out of the shadows like he'd always been there, like he was part of the darkness itself.
He wore his signature armor; black and orange, a color scheme that should've been ridiculous but on him was just menacing. The mask covered his full face, Dick could feel the weight of that single eye studying him.
Evaluating.
Assessing.
Hunting.
Dick (voice flat, controlled): "Deathstroke."
Slade (a hint of amusement in his tone): "Still so formal. After all these years, I'd think we'd moved past the codenames, Dick."
Hearing his real name from Slade's mouth always felt wrong, like a violation. Like Slade had taken something that wasn't his.
Dick (not lowering his weapons): "You said three days. It's been three days. I'm here. What do you want?"
Slade moved closer, slow and deliberate, hands relaxed at his sides. Not threatening. Not yet.
Slade: "Direct. I like it. That's new. Last time we met, you still had some of that Boy Wonder optimism. Some of Bruce's idealism.", he tilted his head, "What changed?"
Dick (jaw tight): "Jason died, and the Light happened."
The words came out harsher than intended, razor-edged with old grief.
Slade stopped, maybe five feet away now, and for a moment, something almost like respect crossed his visible features.
Slade: "I heard about that. Robin number two? Beaten to death by the Joker, if the rumours were correct. Shame. I would've liked to have met him."
Dick's fingers tightened on his escrima sticks.
Dick (voice dangerous): "Don't. Don't you dare talk about Jason."
Slade (raising one hand, almost placating): "Easy, kid. I'm not here to pick at old wounds. Well, not those wounds anyway.", he gestured around the warehouse, "Can we talk like civilized people? Or are you going to swing those sticks at me the moment I turn my back?"
Dick (not relaxing): "Depends on what you have to say."
Slade studied him for another long moment, then moved to a relatively clean section of concrete and sat down, back against a support pillar. The gesture was deliberately non-threatening, deliberately casual.
Slade (patting the ground nearby): "Sit. I promise I won't bite. Much."
Every instinct Dick had screamed at him to stay standing, stay ready, stay in control.
But Slade was right about one thing: if they were going to do this, might as well do it properly.
Dick sat down across from him, maybe ten feet of space between them, escrima sticks still in hand but lowered.
Slade (nodding approval): "There we go. See? Civilized."
He leaned back, the picture of relaxation, then took off his mask. Slade meeting Dick eye-to-eye with his one good eye left.
Slade: "You look good, kid. Nightwing suits you better than Robin ever did. More dangerous. More real."
Dick: "Cut the bullshit, Slade. Why am I here?"
Slade (smile fading, voice turning serious): "Because I'm getting old."
Dick blinked. Of all the things he'd expected Slade to say, that wasn't one of them.
Dick: "You're what?"
Slade (gesturing to himself): "Old. Aging. Mortal, despite what some people think. I'm not that enhanced like Captain America from the comic books. I’m not that much of a meta like your superhero friends. I'm just a man with superior training and a healing factor that's slowing down.”, he paused, "I'm fifty-three years old, Dick. In our line of work, that's ancient."
Dick stared at him, trying to process this.
Slade had always seemed... eternal? Unchangeable? A constant threat, yes, but one that would always be there, like gravity, death, or Bruce's disapproval.
Dick (carefully): "What does that have to do with me?"
Slade (leaning forward, eye intense): "You know what it has to do with you. I've been trying to recruit you for years. Ever since that first time we met, when you were still wearing that ridiculous traffic-light costume. I saw it then, the potential, the darkness you keep locked away behind all that heroic nonsense."
Dick (voice cold): "I'm not interested in being your apprentice. I've told you that a dozen times."
Slade: "And I'm telling you now that I don't have time to wait for you to come around naturally. I need an answer, Dick. A real answer. Yes or no. Because if it's no—", he paused, and there was something almost sad in his expression, "If it's no, then this is the last time we have this conversation. I'll find someone else. Train them. Pass on everything I know to a less worthy candidate."
Dick (suspicious): "And if I say yes?"
Slade (smile returning, sharp and predatory): "Then I teach you everything. Every technique, every trick, every dark little secret I've learned in thirty years of being the best at what I do. I make you into something more than what Bruce made you. Something better."
Dick felt a chill run down his spine.
Because the worst part was... part of him wanted it.
Part of him remembered that solo mission after Jason died, when he'd been stranded in hostile territory with Slade, when they'd fought back-to-back and it had been perfect. Seamless, brutal, and efficient in a way that made something dark in Dick's chest purr with satisfaction.
Part of him remembered Slade's offer afterward, standing in the rain outside a safe house, and how he'd almost said yes.
How close he'd come.
Dick (pushing down those memories): "I have a life, Slade. A team. People who depend on me. A—", he caught himself before saying ‘girlfriend’, "Responsibilities."
Slade (studying him): "You were going to say something else. Someone else.", his one eye narrowed, "The magician girl. Zatara's daughter. Zatanna."
Dick's blood ran cold.
Dick (voice flat, dangerous): "Leave her out of this."
Slade (holding up both hands): "Relax. I'm not threatening her. I'm just... observant. I saw you two at that charity gala six months ago, the way you looked at her when you thought no one was watching. The way she looked at you.", he leaned back, "Finally made a move, did you? About fucking time you did."
Dick (standing up, escrima sticks raised): "This conversation is over."
Slade (also standing, but still not threatening): "Dick. Wait."
Something in his tone made Dick pause. Not the usual mockery or manipulation. Something almost... genuine?
Slade (carefully): "I'm not asking you to abandon your life. I'm asking you to enhance it. To become more than what you are. You think Bruce taught you everything? He taught you his way; rigid, controlled, bound by rules that get people killed. I can teach you freedom. Teach you how to win without compromises."
Dick (shaking his head): "Freedom? You're a mercenary, you jackass. You kill for money. That's not freedom, that's just being a slave to the highest bidder."
Slade (smile turning cold): "And you're not? You jump when the League says jump. When Bruce calls, you come running. When the Team needs you, you put your life on hold. That's not freedom either, kid. That's just a different kind of cage."
Dick wanted to argue, wanted to tell Slade he was wrong.
But the words stuck in his throat.
Because wasn't Slade right? Hadn't Dick just lied to everyone he cared about to come to this meeting? Hadn't he been hiding his encounters with Slade for years because he knew what they'd think, what they'd say?
"He's manipulating you."
"He's trying to turn you."
"You can't trust him."
Maybe they'd be right.
Probably they'd be right.
But standing here, looking at Slade, Dick felt something he hadn't expected:
Understanding.
Slade wasn't trying to make him a villain. He was trying to make him something else, something beyond hero and villain, beyond the binary that Bruce had raised him to believe in.
Something free.
Dick (voice quiet): "Why me? Really. You could train anyone. Why does it have to be me?"
Slade's expression softened, just slightly, and for a moment, Dick saw something almost paternal in that single eye.
Slade: "Because you're the only one worth training. You have Bruce's tactical mind, his discipline, his drive. But you also have something he never had, adaptability. You can change, evolve, become something new. You're not trapped by ideology the way he is.", he paused, "You see people for their character, and because I see myself in you, kid. The person I could've been if I'd had someone to guide me properly. I don't want you to make the same mistakes I did."
Dick (suspicious): "What mistakes?"
Slade (looking away, something dark crossing his features): "I had a family once. A wife. Kids. I lost them because I couldn't let go of this life. Couldn't find balance between the mission and the people I loved.", he looked back at Dick, "You're already on that path. Pushing away the people who care about you because you think you're protecting them. Lying to them because the truth is too complicated. How long before Zatanna realizes you're keeping secrets? How long before the Team stops trusting you? Before Bruce decides you've gone too far?"
Dick felt like he'd been punched in the gut.
Because Slade was right.
He'd already started down that road; lying to Zatanna about this meeting, hiding his encounters with Slade from the Team, keeping secrets from Bruce.
All in the name of ‘protecting’ them.
All while pushing them away.
Dick (sitting back down, suddenly exhausted): "What are you really offering, Slade?"
Slade (also sitting): "Training. Real training. Not to make you a villain, but to make you better at what you already do. To teach you how to be effective without compromising who you are. To show you that there's more to this life than Batman's way or no way."
Dick: "And in return?"
Slade (smile returning): "You carry on what I've built. Not as Deathstroke, that name dies with me. But something new, something yours. You take the skills, the knowledge, the reputation, and you use them however you see fit. Hero, vigilante, mercenary, something in between? I don't give a fuck. As long as you're the best at it."
Dick stared at him, mind racing.
Part of him wanted to refuse immediately, to walk away and never look back.
But another part, the part that had survived Jason's death, Bruce's emotional distance, and the weight of leading the Team? That part was tempted.
Dick (finally): "I need time. To think about it."
Slade (nodding): "Fair enough. But Dick? I meant what I said. I don't have time to wait forever. I need an answer soon. Weeks, not months."
Dick (standing): "I'll give you one. I promise."
Slade (also standing, extending his hand): "That's all I ask."
Dick looked at the offered hand for a long moment, knowing what it meant to take it, knowing what it would represent.
Then he reached out and shook.
Slade's grip was firm, almost crushing, but there was something like respect in it.
Slade (releasing his hand): "Get out of here, kid. Go back to your girl. Your team. Think about what I said. And Dick?", he paused, "Whatever you decide, make sure it's your choice. Not Bruce's. Not the Team's. Yours."
Dick nodded once, then turned and left the warehouse.
Behind him, Slade watched him go, a small smile on his face.
[30 Minutes Later - Gotham Rooftop]
Dick stood on the edge of a building overlooking the city, wind whipping his cape around him, mind churning.
His phone buzzed. Text from Zatanna.
(Zee ❤️): “Hey. Where are you? Miss you. Come over? I'll make dinner. And by dinner I mean order takeout and we can watch terrible movies. 😊”
Dick stared at the message, thumb hovering over the keyboard.
He could go to her. Could spend the evening wrapped up in her warmth and her laughter and pretend everything was normal.
But it would be a lie.
Just like this entire thing was becoming a lie.
"How long before Zatanna realizes you're keeping secrets?"
Slade's words echoed in his head.
Dick typed out a response.
(Dick): “On my way. Can't wait. ❤️”
He hit send, then pocketed his phone.
He'd go to her. He'd have dinner and watch movies and hold her close.
And tomorrow, or soon, he'd figure out what the hell he was going to do about Slade.
About the choice that was coming.
About the man he was becoming.
But tonight?
Tonight he'd let himself pretend everything was okay.
Even if he knew it wasn't.
Even if he knew the clock was ticking.
Even if he knew that eventually, he'd have to choose.
Freedom or responsibility.
Slade's way or Bruce's way.
Or maybe, just maybe, his own way.
Dick launched himself off the building, grappling toward Zatanna's apartment.
Behind him, Gotham's shadows watched and waited.
They always did.
Chapter 3: "When It Rains"
Summary:
Dick's already juggling many things as it is.
His secrets about Slade, his conscience about sending Kaldur and Artemis undercover with the Light, almost losing his best friend to the Speed Force, his job as Nightwing (protector of Blüdhaven and leader of the Team), and his day job as FBI Agent Dick Grayson.
Zatanna's the only one keeping him sane.
So imagine that with all of this going on, the Family dynamics back at the Manor get flipped upside down...
Chapter Text
Dick woke up to sunlight streaming through unfamiliar curtains and the smell of coffee.
For a moment, he was disoriented. This wasn't his apartment in Blüdhaven, wasn't his room at the Manor, before memory caught up and he smiled.
Zatanna's place.
He'd been spending more nights here than his own apartment lately. It had started innocently enough; late nights after missions, too tired to drive back to Blüdhaven, and Zatanna offering her couch. Then the couch became her bed, and "occasionally staying over" became "keeping a toothbrush in her bathroom" and "half his closet migrating to her spare hangers".
They hadn't talked about what it meant. Hadn't put a label on it beyond the obvious fact that they were together.
But it felt like home in a way nothing had since he'd left the Manor.
Dick pulled on sweatpants and one of his FBI Academy t-shirts, padding into the kitchen to find Zatanna at the stove, wearing one of his button-downs and nothing else, humming something that made the air shimmer slightly with residual magic.
She turned when she heard him, and her smile was bright and genuine and made everything else fade into the background.
Zatanna: "Morning, sleepyhead. Coffee's ready. I'm making eggs and trying not to burn the toast."
Dick (moving behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist, kissing her neck): "You're magic. Can't you just... conjure breakfast?"
Zatanna (leaning back into him): "I could. But where's the fun in that? Besides, magically conjured food tastes like disappointment and obligation. Trust me."
Dick (laughing): "Speaking from experience?"
Zatanna: "My eleventh birthday. Dad was on a mission. I tried to magic myself a cake. It tasted like cardboard and sadness.", she flipped the eggs. "Never again."
Dick pressed another kiss to her shoulder, breathing in the scent of her—jasmine, vanilla, and home—and tried not to think about the meeting with Slade, about the choice he still hadn't made, about all the secrets piling up like weights on his chest.
His phone buzzed on the counter. He reluctantly released Zatanna to check it.
Three missed calls from Bruce. Two texts from Tim. One from Alfred that just said:
(Alfred): “Master Dick. Manor. Now. It's urgent.”
Dick's stomach dropped.
Alfred didn't say "urgent" unless it was urgent.
Zatanna (noticing his expression): "What is it?"
Dick (already moving toward the bedroom to get dressed): "Bruce. Something's happened. I have to go."
Zatanna (turning off the stove, following him): "Want me to come with you?"
Dick (pulling on jeans, t-shirt, grabbing his jacket): "No. I mean—", he caught himself, seeing the flash of hurt in her eyes, "It's probably just Bat Family drama. You don't need to get dragged into that."
Zatanna (arms crossed): "Dick. I'm a Justice League member. I've fought with the Team and alongside Batman. I'm pretty sure I can handle some drama."
Dick (knowing she was right, knowing he was being an ass): "I know. I just—", he stopped, ran a hand through his hair, "I'm sorry. Yes. Come with me. Please. I'd feel better if you were there."
Zatanna's expression softened. She moved closer, cupping his face.
Zatanna: "Hey. Whatever it is, we'll handle it. Together. That's what this is, right? You and me. Together."
Dick (covering her hands with his): "Yeah. Together."
He kissed her, quick and desperate, trying to pour all the things he couldn't say into it.
“I love you.”
“I'm sorry.”
“I'm keeping secrets and I don't know how to stop.”
When they pulled apart, Zatanna gave him a searching look but didn't push.
Zatanna: "Let me get dressed. Then we'll go."
[40 Minutes Later - Gotham City, Wayne Manor]
The Manor looked the same as always from the outside; imposing, elegant, exactly the kind of Gothic architecture that passed down generation to generation from one Wayne to the next.
But Dick could feel the tension the moment he walked through the door.
Alfred met them in the foyer, and for the first time in Dick's memory, the butler looked... rattled.
Alfred: "Master Dick. Miss Zatara. Thank you for coming so quickly."
Dick (immediately on alert): "Alfred. What's going on? Is Bruce okay? Tim?"
Alfred (adjusting his already-perfect tie, a nervous gesture): "Everyone is... physically unharmed. But there have been some rather… significant developments. Master Bruce is in the Cave with Master Tim, Miss Selina, and... others."
Zatanna (frowning): "Others?"
Alfred's expression was carefully neutral, but Dick caught the flash of something in the older man's eyes., concern? Disapproval?
Alfred: "Perhaps it's best if you see for yourself. If you'll follow me."
They descended into the Bat Cave, and Dick could hear voices echoing up from below—Bruce's deep rumble, Tim's higher tenor, Selina's sardonic drawl, and—
Dick froze at the bottom of the stairs.
Because standing in the center of the Bat Cave, surrounded by the rest of the Family, was someone Dick had last seen in a coffin.
Jason Todd.
Alive. Older, maybe at least eighteen or nineteen now but still younger than Dick. Broad-shouldered and dangerous in a way he'd never been as Robin. He wore a leather jacket over a dark shirt, jeans, boots, and there was a gun holstered at his hip that made Dick's chest tighten.
Jason's eyes were green now, not the blue Dick remembered. They locked onto him, and there was something cold and hard in them that made Dick's breath catch.
Next to Jason stood a woman Dick recognized, one of Bruce’s… whatever they were. Talia al Ghul, daughter of Ra's al Ghul, leader of the League of Assassins, wearing elegant business attire like she was here for a board meeting instead of dropping a bomb on the Wayne Family.
And clutching her hand was a child.
A boy, maybe eleven years old? With Talia's coloring and bone structure but Bruce's jaw, Bruce's stance, Bruce's eyes.
Dick felt the world tilt sideways.
Zatanna (quietly, hand finding his): "Dick? You okay?"
Dick couldn't answer. Couldn't breathe.
Jason was alive.
Bruce had… What? A son?
What the actual fuck was happening?
Bruce (seeing them, and there was exhaustion in every line of his face): "Dick. Zatanna. Thank you for coming.", he gestured to Jason, "I believe you remember—"
Dick (voice rough): "Jason."
Jason (smile sharp and mean): "Hey, Dickie-bird. Miss me?"
The nickname, the one Jason had always used, affectionate and teasing as something a little brother who would say to his older brother, sounded like a curse now.
Dick took a step forward, then another, until he was close enough to touch, to confirm this was real.
Dick (voice breaking): "How? You were… we buried you. I spoke at your funeral. How?"
Jason (expression flickering, something almost vulnerable before the mask slammed back down): "Talia. Lazarus Pit. And red helmets.
Dick paused, the realization dawning on him.
Dick: “You’re… you’re the Red Hood?”
Jason (smirking): In the flesh, you and B gave me a workout. And sorry about your leg.”
Dick’s eyes narrowed, he spent a few weeks recovering from that explosive the Red Hood set up when they chased him across Gotham and ended up on that Gotham City metro station.
Jason: “Been alive for quite a while, but nobody came looking for me."
The accusation hit like a physical blow.
Dick (shaking his head): "We didn't know. Jason, if we'd known—"
Jason (laughing, bitter): "You would've what? Saved me? Like you saved me before? Oh wait, you were off playing Team leader while I was getting beaten to death by a clown."
Dick flinched.
Bruce (voice hard): "Enough. Jason, we've been over this—"
Jason (rounding on Bruce): "Over what? The fact that you replaced me? That you let my murderer keep breathing? That you moved on like I never existed?"
Tim (stepping forward, voice calm but firm): "That's not fair and you know it. Bruce nearly killed himself trying to find you. Dick—"
Jason (glaring at Tim): "And who the fuck are you? Robin number three? How many of us are there now?"
Tim (not backing down): "I'm Tim, you jack-off. Tim Drake. And yeah, I'm Robin. Because someone needed to be. Because Bruce was self-destructing after you died. Because someone had to stop him from getting himself killed."
Jason opened his mouth to respond, but Talia's voice cut through the tension.
Talia (smooth, controlled): "Boys. Perhaps we could table the family drama for a moment? We have other matters to discuss."
She gestured to the boy at her side, who had been watching everything with sharp, calculating eyes that looked far too old for his face.
Talia: "Richard. Timothy. I believe introductions are in order. This is Damian. Damian al Ghul-Wayne. Bruce's son."
The silence that followed was deafening.
Dick stared at the child, at Damian, trying to process this new impossibility on top of all the others.
Zatanna (quietly): "Holy shit."
Selina (from where she'd been leaning against the Bat Computer, arms crossed): "That's one way to put it."
Bruce (running a hand over his face): "Dick. I didn't know. I swear I didn't know. Talia and I... it was years ago and she spiked my drink. I thought—”, he stopped, "I thought she'd tell me if there were consequences."
Talia (smile sharp): "I saw no reason to involve you in Damian's upbringing. He was being trained as my father's heir, raised to be the perfect warrior. But circumstances have changed. My father has become... unstable. Dangerous, even by our standards. Damian is no longer safe with the League."
Dick (looking at Damian, at this child who'd been raised by assassins): "How old is he?"
Talia: "Eleven. And before you ask, yes, he's been trained to kill since he could walk. Yes, he's dangerous. And yes, he's Bruce's responsibility now."
Damian (speaking for the first time, voice clipped and formal): "I don't need a father. I'm the heir to the Demon's Head. I am—"
Talia (sharp): "You are a child who is in danger. You will stay here. You will listen to your father. And you will learn that there is more to life than what you grandfather taught you."
Damian glared at her but fell silent.
Dick felt something in his chest crack.
This kid, this boy, had been shaped into a weapon before he'd even had a chance to be a person. Had been raised in violence and death and probably didn't know what a normal childhood even looked like.
Just like Dick had been, before Bruce.
Before someone gave him a chance to be something other than a weapon.
Dick (crouching down to Damian's eye level): "Hey. I'm Dick. Dick Grayson. I'm... I guess I'm your big brother now."
Damian (looking him up and down, clearly unimpressed): "You were the first Robin. Mother has files on you. You were... adequate. For a circus brat with no real training."
Dick (fighting back a laugh because what else could he do?): "Yeah. That's me. Adequate circus brat. Still got trained by Batman though."
Behind him, he heard Zatanna make a sound that might have been a strangled laugh.
Tim (also crouching down): "I'm Tim. Robin number three, apparently. And for what it's worth, your mom's intel is probably outdated. Dick's way better than adequate now."
Damian (studying Tim): "You're smaller than expected. Weaker. How did you survive being Robin?"
Tim (grinning): "Brains over brawn, kid. And a lot of luck."
Jason (still standing apart, arms crossed): "This is great. Real heartwarming. The Brady Bunch, “Bat Edition”. Are we done here? Because I've got better things to do than watch the family reunion."
Bruce (turning to Jason): "Jason. Please. Stay. We have a lot to talk about—"
Jason (laughing harshly): "Talk? Now you want to talk? After years? After replacing me twice?", he gestured to Tim, then to Damian, "No. I'm done. I came back to Gotham for my own reasons. To settle my own scores. You may have stopped me from killing Joker but you better stay out of my way. Or else.”
Dick (standing): "Jason, wait—"
But Jason was already moving toward the stairs, toward the exit.
Dick started to follow, but Zatanna's hand on his arm stopped him.
Zatanna (quietly): "Let him go. He needs space. Time. Pushing now will just make it worse."
Dick (watching Jason disappear up the stairs): "He's my brother. I can't just—"
Zatanna: "I know. But he's also traumatized, angry, and probably not thinking clearly. Give him time to process. He'll come around."
Dick wanted to argue, wanted to chase after Jason and fix this, but he knew she was right.
Talia (checking her watch): "I must be going. Staying in one place too long is dangerous when my father's agents are hunting me.", she looked at Damian, "Be good. Listen to your father. I will return when it's safe."
Damian's expression cracked, just slightly, showing the scared eight-year-old underneath the assassin training.
Damian: "You're leaving me here? With them?"
Talia (softening, kneeling to kiss his forehead): "You are a warrior, habibi. You will survive this. And you might even learn to be something more.", she stood up, "Bruce. Keep him safe. Or you will answer to me."
Bruce (voice low): "I will. I promise."
Talia nodded once, then vanished into the shadows, literally, in a way that made Dick's training itch with professional appreciation, leaving them all standing there in shocked silence.
Tim (finally): "So. That happened."
Selina (pushing off from the computer): "I need a drink. Several drinks. Bruce, your life is a mess."
Bruce (looking older than Dick had ever seen him): "I know."
Dick looked at Damian, standing alone in the middle of the Cave, small and fierce and terrified despite his training.
And he made a decision.
Dick (walking over to Damian): "Hey. I know this is a lot. I know you don't know us, don't trust us. But we're family now. And family means we've got your back, even when things are scary. Okay?"
Damian (studying him with those sharp, calculating eyes): "You're trying to manipulate me. Using emotional connection to create dependency. It won't work."
Dick (smiling sadly): "I'm not trying to manipulate you, kid. I'm just trying to help. But you don't have to believe me yet. That's okay."
He offered his hand.
Damian looked at it for a long moment, then grudgingly took it.
His hand was small and cold in Dick's, and Dick felt that crack in his chest widen into something painful and protective.
Another kid. Another Robin, probably, eventually. Another person to protect and train and try not to fail.
Dick looked at Bruce, saw the same exhaustion and determination in his mentor's eyes.
They had a lot of work to do.
[Midnight - Zatanna’s Apartment]
Dick sat on Zatanna's couch, head in his hands, trying to process everything.
Jason was alive.
Bruce had a son.
The family had expanded from just him and Tim to include an eleven-year-old assassin, three other potential proteges (Stephanie Brown had shown up at the Manor while they were still reeling, offering to help; Cassandra Cain had been discovered by Barbara and brought into the fold; Duke Thomas was a metahuman kid they'd rescued who'd asked to stay), and Kate Kane was apparently also operating as Batwoman now with Bruce's grudging approval.
Oh, and Jason was the Red Hood, the violent vigilante who'd been tearing through Gotham's underworld for the past few months, killing criminals and leaving a trail of bodies that made even Bruce's rogues nervous.
Had been chased by Dick and Bruce across the city one too many times, and nearly killed the Joker.
No big deal.
Not a big deal at all.
Just a complete implosion of everything Dick thought he knew about his family.
Pretty much everything going to shit all at once.
Zatanna came out of the bedroom in sleep clothes, carrying two mugs of tea. She set one in front of him, then curled up next to him on the couch.
Zatanna (softly): "You okay?"
Dick (laughing without humor): "Define ’okay’."
Zatanna (tucking herself against his side): "Fair point.", she was quiet for a moment, "Jason seems... complicated."
Dick: "That's one word for it. Traumatized, angry, armed, those are some others."
Zatanna: "He came back from the dead after being murdered by the Joker. I think he's entitled to some anger."
Dick (knowing she was right, hating it): "I should've protected him. When I left to become Nightwing, when I stepped away from being Robin, I should've made sure he was ready. That Bruce wouldn't—", he stopped.
Zatanna (gently): "Wouldn't what?"
Dick (voice rough): "That mission in Switzerland. Ra’s was planning to destabilize Europe’s economy, Bruce was dealing with men and Jason ran after the Joker alone. Jason was too angry, too reckless. Bruce couldn’t catch up until it was too late, and Jason died because of it."
Zatanna (processing this): "You blame Bruce?"
Dick: "I blame myself. I should've been there. Should've been their backup. But I was too busy with the Team, too busy being Nightwing, too busy putting distance between myself and Bruce.”, he looked at her, "And now Jason's back, he's killing people, almost killed the Joker, and I don't know how to reach him. Don't know how to tell him I'm sorry."
Zatanna (taking his hand): "Then you start with that. You tell him you're sorry. You tell him you should've been there. You tell him the truth."
Dick (shaking his head): "He won't listen. You saw him. He hates us."
Zatanna: "He hates what happened to him. He hates that he died and the world kept turning. But Dick? That anger, that pain? That's love underneath. You don't get that hurt unless you cared in the first place. He'll come around. Eventually."
Dick (pulling her closer, needing her warmth): "When did you get so wise?"
Zatanna (smiling against his shoulder): "I've always been wise. You just finally started listening."
Dick (laughing despite everything): "Fair enough."
They sat in comfortable silence for a while, Dick drinking his tea, Zatanna's fingers tracing patterns on his arm.
Dick (finally): "And then there's Damian."
Zatanna: "Bruce's son. The eleven-year-old assassin. Yeah. That's... a lot."
Dick: "He’s a spitting image of Bruce at that age but reminds me of myself. When Bruce first took me in. All that anger and grief and nowhere to put it. Except worse because at least I had known love before my parents died. Damian was raised in the League. He probably doesn't even know what a normal childhood looks like."
Zatanna (understanding): "You're going to help him."
Dick (nodding): "Someone has to. Bruce will try, but he's... Bruce. He doesn't know how to be a dad, just how to train soldiers. Damian needs more than that."
Zatanna (kissing his cheek): "You're a good man, Dick Grayson. Even when you don't believe it."
Dick (turning to look at her): "I have a lot going on right now. Between the Team, the FBI job, the Family drama... I might not be around as much. I understand if that's—"
Zatanna (putting a finger over his lips): "Stop. I'm not going anywhere. We're together, remember? That means when life gets complicated, we handle it. Together.", she paused. "Unless you don't want to—"
Dick (kissing her, cutting off that thought): "I want to. I absolutely want to. I just don't want you to feel like you're stuck with my mess."
Zatanna (smiling): "Your mess is our mess now. That's how this works.", her expression turned more serious, "But Dick? No more secrets. Whatever's going on, whatever you're dealing with, I need you to talk to me. Let me in. Can you do that?"
Dick felt Slade's business card burning a hole in his jacket pocket, felt the weight of that meeting in the warehouse, felt all the lies and half-truths piling up.
No more secrets.
He wanted to tell her. Wanted to confess everything, the years of encounters with Slade, the offer, the temptation, all of it.
But the words stuck in his throat.
Not yet. Not tonight. Not when everything else is already falling apart.
Dick (voice quiet): "I'll try. I promise, I'll try."
Zatanna studied him for a long moment, and Dick saw the moment she decided to let it go. For now.
Zatanna: "Okay. That's enough.", she stood, pulling him up with her, "Come on. Bed. You're exhausted."
Dick (following her): "It's barely midnight."
Zatanna (over her shoulder): "And when's the last time you slept more than four hours? Come on, Agent Grayson. Doctor's orders."
Dick (smiling despite everything): "You're not a doctor."
Zatanna (pulling him into the bedroom): "I'm a magician. That's basically the same thing."
They fell into bed together, Zatanna curling into Dick's side, his arm around her, her head on his chest.
Safe. Warm. Home.
Dick (quietly): "I love you."
Zatanna (voice soft, already half-asleep): "Love you too. Always."
Dick lay awake long after she'd drifted off, staring at the ceiling, mind churning.
Jason alive. Damian existing. The family expanding and fracturing simultaneously.
And underneath it all, Slade's voice:
"Clock's ticking, kid."
Dick closed his eyes and tried to sleep.
But the ghosts weren't done with him yet.
Not by a long shot.
Chapter 4: "Lessons"
Summary:
Jason's alive, Bruce has a son with Talia, and things get even more complex at it is.
All while Slade keeps pressuring him about his offer.
Dick's already at the edge of his rope, and Slade decides that whilst Dick is still indecisive about taking him up on his offer, the least he could do is maybe teach Dick a thing or two...
Chapter Text
Dick found himself back in Blüdhaven three weeks later, standing on a different rooftop, staring at his phone.
The text from Slade had come in an hour ago, simple and direct:
(S): “Same place. Midnight. Time we talked again.”
Dick should've deleted it. Should've told Bruce, told the Team, told Zatanna.
Instead, he'd told them all he was following up on a lead for a case FBI Agent Grayson was investigating, a suspected trafficking ring. It was even partially true; there was a case. He just wasn't working it tonight.
The lies were getting easier.
That terrified him more than he wanted to admit.
Dick checked his watch. 11:47 PM.
Thirteen minutes.
He could still back out. Could go home to Zatanna's apartment, crawl into bed next to her, pretend this wasn't happening.
But he wouldn't.
Because the past three weeks had been hell, and Dick needed to talk to someone who might actually understand.
Someone who wasn't family. Wasn't Team. Wasn't invested in keeping him on the path of righteousness.
Someone who'd seen darkness and survived it.
Even if that someone is Deathstroke.
Dick launched himself off the building, grappling toward the warehouse.
[Midnight - The Warehouse]
Slade was already there when Dick arrived, sitting on the same pillar as before, but this time he wasn't in full armour. Just tactical pants, a black shirt, and the mask pushed back so his whole face was visible.
He looked older like this. More human.
The scars were visible too, a network of them across his exposed skin, testament to thirty years of violence.
Slade (not looking up): "You're on time. Good. I was starting to think you'd pussy out."
Dick (dropping down from the rafters, landing with perfect silence): "I'm here. What do you want, Slade?"
Slade (finally looking at him): "Jesus, kid. You look like shit."
Dick (defensively): "I'm fine."
Slade (standing, moving closer): "No, you're not. You've got bags under your eyes that could carry groceries, you're wound tighter than a tripwire, and I can see the stress fractures forming from here.", he tilted his head, "The hell happened?"
Dick opened his mouth to deflect, to lie, to keep it all locked down tight the way Bruce had taught him.
But something in Slade's expression, not judgment just... observation, made the walls crack.
And suddenly Dick was talking.
Dick: "Jason's alive. My brother, my dead brother, walked into the Bat Cave three weeks ago very much not dead. Apparently Talia al Ghul pulled him out of his grave, dunked him in a Lazarus Pit, and he's been alive for two years and nobody told us. He's the Red Hood now. Killing criminals, almost killed the Joker, has a gun. He hates us, hates me, because we 'replaced' him and didn't come looking."
Slade (eyebrows raising): "Shit."
Dick (laughing without humor): "Yeah. Shit. And that's not even the best part. Bruce has a son. An eleven-year-old assassin named Damian that Talia dropped off like a fucking package because apparently, Ra's al Ghul went off the deep end and the kid wasn't safe with the League anymore."
Slade (letting out a low whistle): "So I’ve heard, I had to distance myself from the Assassins. It was... concerning. For everyone."
Dick (running a hand through his hair): "Damian's been trained to kill since he could walk. He's eleven, Slade. Eleven years old and he talks about murder like it's math homework. He challenged Tim to a duel on his second day at the Manor. With swords. Real ones."
Slade: "Did Tim win?"
Dick (surprised into a laugh): "Bruce stopped it before it could start. But the point is, now I've got a traumatized, resurrected brother who wants nothing to do with us, an eleven-year-old assassin who needs to be deprogrammed before he kills someone, and Bruce? Bruce is drowning. He doesn't know how to be a father, doesn't know how to connect with Damian, can barely look at Jason without guilt eating him alive."
Slade (gesturing to the ground): "Fucking hell, sit. Before you collapse."
Dick wanted to refuse, wanted to maintain some semblance of control.
But his legs were tired, his mind was tired, everything was tired.
He sat.
Slade settled across from him, maybe six feet away, expression thoughtful.
Slade: "And the magician girlfriend? Zatanna?"
Dick (something softening in his chest): "She's... she's good. Great, actually. She's been amazing through all of this. Patient. Understanding. I'm basically living at her apartment now because I can't stand being at the Manor with all the tension nor could I stomach being alone at my own place."
Slade: "But?"
Dick (looking up): "But what?"
Slade (leaning back on his hands): "There's always a 'but'. You love her, she's great, she's patient... but?"
Dick (quietly sighing): "But I'm lying to her. About you. About these meetings. About how close I came to accepting your offer after that… thing. She asked me for no more secrets, and I promised I'd try, and then I turned around and kept the biggest secret of all."
Slade (no judgment, just fact): "You're scared she'll leave if she knows the truth."
Dick: "I'm scared she'll look at me differently. See me as... compromised. As someone who can't be trusted. Batman's golden boy, considering an apprenticeship with Deathstroke? The Team would lose their minds. Bruce would—", he stopped, "Bruce would probably disown me."
Slade (voice dry): "Kid, you’re twenty-one, and Bruce already did disown you, more or less. You left. Became Nightwing. Built your own life. That's not reconciliation, kid. That's separation."
Dick (defensive): "We have a working relationship. We're fine."
Slade: "You're cordial. There's a difference. When's the last time you two had a real conversation? Not about, missions, or cases, or the Team. About feelings. About Jason. About you?”
Dick (falling silent): "..."
Slade (nodding): "That's what I thought.", he was quiet for a moment, "You're carrying everyone else's trauma, Dick. Jason's anger? Damian's violence? Bruce's guilt? The Team's expectations and the Justice League’s demands? Zatanna's love? Your FBI cover? And you're doing it all alone because you think that's what heroes do."
Dick (voice rough): "The fuck am I supposed to do then?! Just... stop? Let it all fall apart?"
Slade: "No. You're supposed to delegate. To recognize that you can't save everyone. Can't fix everyone. That some people need to break before they can heal."
Dick: "Jason's already broken."
Slade: "So let him be broken for a while. He came back from the dead, Dick. He's entitled to some rage and bad decisions. You can't fix that with enough brotherly love and inspirational speeches. He needs time."
Dick (knowing Slade was right, hating it): "And Damian?"
Slade (smile flickering): "The kid's a fighter. He'll adapt. Might take a while to undo League programming, but he's got Bruce now. Got you. Got the whole Bat-clan watching his back. He'll survive."
Dick (looking at Slade): "When did you become a therapist?"
Slade (laughing): "I'm not. I'm just old enough to have made every mistake you're currently making. Lost my family because I couldn't let go of control. Couldn't admit I was drowning. Couldn't ask for help.", his expression darkened, "Don't be like me, kid."
They sat in silence for a long moment.
Dick (finally): "Your offer. To train me."
Slade (carefully neutral): "What about it?"
Dick: "I'm not ready to give you an answer yet. There's too much... noise. Too many variables. I need time to think."
Slade (nodding slowly): "Fair enough. But Dick? I meant what I said before. I don't have forever. I need to know. Yes or no. Weeks, not months."
Dick: "I know."
Slade studied him for a long moment, then stood.
Slade: "Come on."
Dick (frowning): "What?"
Slade (already moving toward the warehouse's training area, empty space with old equipment): "I'm going to teach you something."
Dick (standing, suspicious): "I didn't agree to training."
Slade (over his shoulder): "I know. But you look like you need to hit something, and I'd rather it be me than some random thug who doesn't deserve it. Plus—", he turned, expression serious, "Your life's been chaos lately. You need something steady. Something that makes sense. Combat makes sense."
Dick (hesitating): "Slade—"
Slade (voice softer): "One lesson, kid. Not as your potential mentor. Not as Deathstroke trying to recruit Nightwing. Just as someone who's been where you are, offering to teach you something useful. Something Bruce never taught you properly."
Dick (curiosity winning): "And what's that?"
Slade (smile dangerous): "How to fight dirty. How to win when the rules don't apply. How to survive when everything else falls apart."
Dick should refuse. Should walk away. Should maintain the distance between them.
But Slade was right, he needed this. Needed something that made sense, something he could control when everything else was spiraling.
And if he was honest with himself, he was curious.
What could Slade teach him that Bruce hadn't?
Dick (moving into the training space): "One lesson. That's it."
Slade (grin widening): "That's all I'm asking."
[One Hour Later]
Dick hit the ground hard, breath exploding from his lungs, vision sparking.
Above him, Slade stood relaxed, barely winded, hand extended to help him up.
Slade: "Again. You're telegraphing your right hook. I can see it coming from a mile away."
Dick (taking the offered hand, letting Slade pull him up): "I'm not telegraphing. You're just reading me."
Slade: "Same difference. In a real fight, your opponent will read you. Will anticipate your moves. You need to learn to lie with your body. Make them think you're going left, then go right. Make them expect the high strike, then sweep low."
Dick (circling, trying again): "Bruce already taught me misdirection."
Slade (also circling): "Bruce taught you tactics. I'm teaching you deception. There's a difference. Get up."
As Dick stood on his feet, Slade moved suddenly, faster than Dick expected, and Dick barely blocked the strike aimed at his ribs.
But blocking left him open, and Slade's other hand came up, stopping an inch from Dick's throat.
Killing blow.
In a real fight, Dick would be dead.
Slade (stepping back): "See? You blocked the obvious threat. But you forgot about the real one. That's Bruce's training, noble, honourable, predictable. You fight like you expect your opponent to have rules."
Dick (breathing hard): "Most of my opponents do have rules. Even the villains."
Slade (shaking his head): "Some don't. And when you face them, Bruce's way will get you killed. You need to be able to adapt. To fight like them when necessary."
Dick (defensive): "I'm not going to become a killer."
Slade (patient): "I'm not asking you to. I'm asking you to survive. To recognize that sometimes, the 'right' way isn't the smart way.", he gestured, "Again. This time, lie to me. Make me believe you're going for my head, then hit somewhere else."
Dick took a breath, centering himself.
Then he moved.
Feinted high, like Slade expected. Saw Slade's block come up.
Then dropped low and swept Slade's legs.
Slade went down—not hard, controlled, but down—and Dick pressed the advantage, following him to the ground.
For half a second, he had the upper hand.
Then Slade twisted, impossibly fast, and suddenly Dick was pinned, Slade's forearm across his chest, knee on his thigh.
But Slade was smiling.
Slade: "Better. Much better. You actually made me work for it that time."
Dick (grinning despite himself): "I almost had you."
Slade (standing, offering his hand again): "Almost only counts in horseshoes and hand grenades, kid. But yeah. You almost had me. That's progress."
They went three more rounds, and each time, Dick lasted longer. Got closer. Started to understand what Slade was teaching.
It wasn't about strength or speed, Dick already had those. It was about mindset. About letting go of Bruce's rigid structure and embracing something more fluid. More dangerous.
It was terrifying.
It was exhilarating.
Finally, after Dick managed to land a solid hit to Slade's ribs, not enough to hurt, but enough to count, Slade called it.
Slade (breathing slightly harder, and there was pride in his expression): "That's enough for tonight. Any more and you'll be too sore to function tomorrow."
Dick (also breathing hard, sweating, feeling more alive than he had in weeks): "I can keep going."
Slade (dry): "I'm sure you can. But your girlfriend will kill me if I send you home limping. And I like my head where it is, thanks."
Dick (laughing): "Zatanna would probably just turn you into a toad."
Slade: "Even worse.", he tossed Dick a water bottle, "You did good, kid. Really good. You're a fast learner."
Dick (catching the bottle, drinking deeply): "Bruce always said I was a natural."
Slade (sitting down, gesturing for Dick to join him): "Bruce is right. But you're more than just natural. You're adaptable. You can take any style, any technique, and make it your own. That's rare."
Dick (sitting, looking at Slade): "Is that why you want me? Because I'm adaptable?"
Slade (considering): "Partly. But mostly?", he looked at Dick directly, "Because you remind me of who I could've been. If I'd had someone to guide me properly. Someone to show me that power doesn't have to corrupt. That you can be deadly without being a monster."
Dick (quietly): "You think I can do that? Be deadly without losing myself?"
Slade: "I know you can. You already do it every time you put on that suit. Every time you take down someone twice your size without killing them. Every time you choose mercy when violence would’ve been easier.", he paused, "You just need to recognize that mercy and effectiveness aren't mutually exclusive. That you can be dangerous and still be good."
Dick felt something shift in his chest.
Because Slade was right.
Dick had spent so long trying to be what Bruce wanted—the hero, the symbol, the hope—that he'd forgotten he could be effective in his own way.
Could be himself.
Dick (voice rough): "Thank you. For tonight. For... listening. For not judging."
Slade (standing, offering his hand one last time): "That's what mentors do, kid. We listen. We guide. We help you become who you're meant to be.", he pulled Dick to his feet, "Think about my offer. But no pressure. Tonight was just about giving you something stable in all the chaos. A reminder that you're more capable than you think."
Dick (taking his hand, gripping firmly): "I will. Think about it, I mean."
Slade (releasing his hand): "That's all I ask. Now get out of here. Go home to your girl. Get some rest. You've earned it."
Dick (turning to leave, then stopping): "Slade?"
Slade (looking back): "Yeah?"
Dick: "Why are you doing this? Really. You could have anyone. Why waste time on me if you're not even sure I'll say yes?"
Slade was quiet for a long moment, and when he spoke, his voice was softer than Dick had ever heard it.
Slade: "Because I see myself in you, kid. I already told you that. The person I could've been. The person I should've been. And maybe... maybe if I can help you avoid my mistakes, it'll make up for some of the damage I've done.", he paused, "Or maybe I'm just a sentimental old fool who wants to leave something good behind when I'm gone. Or whatever it was Wintergreen was saying, take your pick."
Dick: “Wintergreen?”
Slade (smirking): “Another time.”
Dick felt something twist in his chest.
Because that was honest. Real. More honest than Bruce had been in years.
Dick (softly): "You're not just a killer, are you? You're... complicated."
Slade (smile returning, but there was sadness in it): "We're all complicated, Dick. Heroes. Villains. Everyone in between. The trick is recognizing that and not letting it destroy you.”, he jerked his head toward the exit, "Now seriously. Get out of here before I start getting really sentimental and embarrass us both."
Dick (laughing): "Yes, sir."
He left the warehouse, grappling into Blüdhaven's night, mind churning.
Behind him, Slade watched him go, something almost paternal in his expression.
Then he pulled his mask back on, and Deathstroke disappeared into the shadows.
[2:47 AM - Zatanna’s Apartment]
Dick slipped through the window as quietly as possible, using the skills he'd honed over years of sneaking in and out of the Manor.
The apartment was dark, quiet. Zatanna's bedroom door was closed.
Dick let out a breath of relief.
“She's asleep. Good. Don't have to explain where I've been.”
He was halfway to the bathroom when Zatanna's voice cut through the darkness.
Zatanna: "Long case?"
Dick froze.
The bedroom door opened, and Zatanna stood there in one of his old FBI t-shirts, arms crossed, expression unreadable.
She didn't look angry. Just... tired.
Dick (carefully): "Yeah. The trafficking lead panned out. Had to follow it up."
Zatanna (studying him): "Uh-huh. And does 'following it up' usually leave you covered in bruises and moving like you went ten rounds with Superman?"
Dick looked down at himself.
His shirt was torn slightly at the shoulder. There was a darkening bruise on his forearm. His knuckles were slightly swollen.
Shit.
Dick (trying to smile): "It got physical. Suspects didn't want to come quietly."
Zatanna walked closer, and in the dim light from the street, Dick could see the concern in her eyes.
And the doubt.
Zatanna (softly): "Dick. Please don't lie to me."
Dick (chest tightening): "I'm not—"
Zatanna (interrupting): "Yes, you are. You've been lying for weeks. Ever since Jason showed up. Maybe before. You disappear for hours, come back exhausted and won't tell me where you've been. You think I don't notice?", her voice cracked slightly, "I notice, Dick. I notice everything. And it's killing me."
Dick felt something break inside him.
Because she was right. About all of it.
He was lying. Was disappearing. Was pulling away even as he pretended everything was fine.
Dick (voice rough): "Zee—"
Zatanna (taking his hand): "I love you. I really do love you, Dick Grayson. But I can't be with someone who won't let me in. Who keeps secrets like they're shields. We're supposed to be partners. Together. Remember?"
Dick (gripping her hand): "I know. I know and I'm sorry. It's just—", he stopped, struggling, "There's something I haven't told you. Something I'm dealing with. And I didn't want to drag you into it."
Zatanna (searching his face): "What is it? Is it Jason? Damian? The Team?"
Dick (shaking his head): "It's... complicated. Old stuff. From before. Before us, before everything."
Zatanna (patient): "Then tell me. Let me help. That's what I'm here for."
Dick looked at her—at this incredible woman who loved him despite everything, who'd chosen him, who was offering him exactly what he needed.
Honesty. Partnership. Trust.
And he made a decision.
Not to tell her everything. Not yet. Not about Slade, not about the offer, not about tonight.
But to give her something. Something real.
Dick (quietly): "After Jason died, I almost left. Almost walked away from Bruce, from Batman, from all of it. I was so angry, Zee. At Bruce for that damned mission to Switzerland with Jason. At myself for not being there. At the world for being so unfair.", he paused, "I met someone. Someone who offered me a different path. A way out of all the pain and guilt."
Zatanna (carefully): "Who?"
Dick (meeting her eyes): "I can't tell you yet. Not because I don't trust you, but because I'm still figuring out what it means. What I want to do about it. But I promise—", he cupped her face, "I promise I'll tell you everything soon. When I have answers. When I can explain it properly. Can you give me a little more time?"
Zatanna looked at him for a long moment, and Dick saw the war in her expression—love, frustration, worry, and hope.
Finally, she leaned forward and pressed her forehead to his.
Zatanna (whisper): "Two weeks. You have two weeks to figure this out and tell me everything. No more secrets. No more lies. And if you can't do that...", she pulled back, and there were tears in her eyes, "Then we need to reconsider what this is. Because I can't build a life with someone who won't be honest with me. Even if I love him with everything I have."
Dick felt ice in his veins.
The ultimatum was clear.
Truth or her.
Choose.
Dick (voice breaking): "I understand. Two weeks. I promise."
Zatanna (studying him, then nodding): "Okay.", she took his hand, "Come on. Let's get you cleaned up. Then bed. You look like death."
Dick (following her to the bathroom): "Flattering."
Zatanna (small smile): "I'm honest. It's one of my best qualities."
The words hit harder than she probably intended.
Honest.
Something Dick was decidedly not being.
As Zatanna tended to his bruises, her touch gentle and careful, Dick stared at himself in the mirror.
And saw Slade's words reflected back:
"You're carrying everyone else's trauma. Doing it all alone because you think that's what heroes do."
Maybe it was time to stop carrying it alone.
Maybe it was time to make a choice.
Slade's way. Bruce's way. Or his own way?
He had two weeks to figure it out.
Two weeks to decide what kind of man he wanted to be.
Two weeks to save the most important relationship in his life.
No pressure.
Chapter 5: "The Truth"
Notes:
I'm not sure if this would classify Slade as a good wingman or not.
Or maybe he just wants to force Dick's hand?
Chapter Text
[Two Weeks Later - 11:53 PM - Zatanna’s Apartment]
Zatanna sat curled up on her couch, a mug of chamomile tea cooling on the coffee table, pretending to read a grimoire but really just staring at the same page for the past twenty minutes.
Dick was late.
Again.
He'd said he'd be home by eleven. It was almost midnight now, and her phone showed no new messages, no missed calls, nothing.
Just silence.
“He's probably fine. Just got caught up with something. A lead. A case. A—”
A knock at the door interrupted her spiraling thoughts.
Zatanna frowned, setting down the grimoire. She wasn't expecting anyone, and it was nearly midnight. Dick had a key, he wouldn't knock.
She moved to the door, years of hero training making her cautious. A quick detection spell showed no magical signatures, no obvious threats.
Just... a box? And a piece of paper.
Zatanna opened the door slowly, escrima stick (one of Dick's old ones that he'd left here) in hand, ready for anything.
The hallway was empty.
But on her doorstep sat a plain black box, maybe two feet long? With a folded note resting on top.
Zatanna looked left, then right. Nothing. No one.
Whoever had left this had vanished completely.
She bent down, picked up the note first, unfolding it with careful fingers.
The handwriting was very precise:
"If you're reading this, make sure Dick gets it. Either he stops lying or I start doing this shit for him. Fuck his complicated relationships with Bruce and that hellhole of a family, you're the only good thing in his life and I'll be damned if he fucks you over.
— S"
Zatanna's blood ran cold.
‘S’.
Who the hell was ‘S’?
A contact?
Someone Dick knew?
But how would this ‘S’ person know that Dick lived with her?
Unless…
The League's files…
The Team's mission reports…
‘S’.
Slade?
Deathstroke?
Her hands tightened on the note, magic crackling at her fingertips instinctively, defensive wards flaring to life around her apartment.
Slade Wilson, one of the world's deadliest assassins, had been at her door. Had left something for Dick. Had mentioned Dick lying.
A thousand thoughts crashed through her mind simultaneously:
"Has Dick's been in contact with Slade?”
"Dick's been lying about something.”
“Is Dick's in danger?”
“Has Dick's been compromised?”
“Dick's—”
She took a shaky breath, forcing herself to calm down. Panic wouldn't help. She needed to think.
Zatanna grabbed the box, surprisingly light, and brought it inside, locking and warding the door behind her. She set it on the coffee table, staring at it like it might explode.
Maybe it would. This was Deathstroke. Explosives weren't out of the question.
But the note said "make sure Dick gets it". That implied a gift, not a bomb.
Right?
Zatanna sat down, pulling out her phone. She could call Dick. Demand to know what the hell was going on. Demand answers now.
But something stopped her.
The note said Dick had been lying. About what? About Slade? About... something else?
"You're the only good thing in his life."
That line stuck in her head. Not threatening. Almost... protective?
What the hell kind of relationship did Dick have with Deathstroke?
Zatanna set down her phone and waited.
Dick would come home. And when he did, they were going to have a serious conversation.
[12:47 AM]
The balcony window slid open with barely a whisper of sound, and Dick Grayson, Nightwing, slipped through with the practiced ease of someone who'd been doing this for over a decade.
He was exhausted. Three muggings, one attempted robbery, and a chase across half of Blüdhaven that had ended with him tackling a meta through a warehouse window. His shoulder ached, his ribs were probably bruised, and all he wanted was a hot shower and to collapse into bed next to Zatanna.
Dick (quietly, assuming she was asleep): "Zee? You still—"
The lights flicked on.
Dick froze, hand still on the window.
Zatanna sat on the couch and still in her day clothes, jeans and one of his old t-shirts, arms crossed over her chest. Her expression was unreadable, but her eyes were red-rimmed.
She'd been crying.
Dick's stomach dropped.
Dick (moving toward her, concern overriding exhaustion): "Zee? What's wrong? Are you okay? Did something happen?"
Zatanna didn't answer. Just reached over to the coffee table and picked up a piece of paper, holding it out to him.
Zatanna (voice flat, controlled): "Either you start talking or I start casting spells, Dick."
The use of his name; not a pet name, not "babe", or "sweetheart", just his name sent warning bells screaming through Dick's head.
He took the note, dread building with every step.
His eyes scanned the words.
"Either he stops lying or I start doing this shit for him.
— S"
Oh no.
Oh no no no no—
Dick's gaze snapped to the box on the coffee table. Black. Unmarked. The kind Slade would use.
Dick (moving immediately, not thinking about consequences): "Did you open it? Zee, tell me you didn't open it—"
He grabbed the box, checking for triggers, for explosives, for anything. His hands were shaking slightly, adrenaline and panic making him clumsy.
Zatanna (still flat, still controlled): "I didn't open it. I waited for you."
Dick let out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding. He set the box down carefully, then opened it with the caution of someone defusing a bomb.
Inside? Nestled in custom foam padding, were two escrima sticks.
But not just any escrima sticks.
These were beautiful. Sleek black metal with subtle red accents, perfectly balanced, clearly custom-made. Dick lifted one out, muscle memory making him twirl it automatically.
The weight was perfect. Better than his current sticks, which were already top-of-the-line.
Dick noticed small buttons near the grips. He pressed one.
The top ends of the sticks hummed to life with crackling blue electricity, an electroshock function, but more powerful than anything he currently had.
He deactivated it, then pressed the button near the pommel.
*Click.*
Blades extended from the bases with a soft snikt, six inches of razor-sharp steel that would turn the non-lethal weapons into something lethal if needed.
Dick stared at them, mind racing.
These weren't just upgraded weapons. These were Slade's weapons. Slade's design. The kind of gear Deathstroke would carry.
He looked back in the box. Another note, smaller, tucked under where the sticks had been:
"Hardware upgrade, you've needed one for a long time now. Put them to good use, I'll see you same time next week.
— S
PS: It's now or never, do you really want to lose her forever?"
Dick's hands tightened on the sticks, and when he looked up, he saw Zatanna watching him.
Tears were streaming down her cheeks now, no longer held back by willpower.
Zatanna (voice cracking): "Dick... Please, I just want to know what's been going on with you."
Dick felt something shatter in his chest.
Because she wasn't angry. Wasn't yelling. Wasn't throwing spells or demanding answers.
She was just... heartbroken.
Dick (setting down the sticks, moving toward her): "Zee—"
Zatanna (holding up a hand, stopping him): "No. Not yet. I need—", she took a shaky breath, "I need you to sit down. I need you to have something to drink. And then I need you to talk. Really talk. Because right now, I feel like I don't know you at all."
Dick felt those words like a physical blow.
But he nodded, swallowing past the lump in his throat.
[Fifteen Minutes Later]
They sat on opposite ends of the couch not touching, a gap between them that felt like miles, with tea and coffee on the table. The escrima sticks were back in the box, but it sat there like an accusation.
Dick had his elbows on his knees, head in his hands. Zatanna sat with her legs tucked under her, arms wrapped around herself like armor.
The silence stretched.
Finally, Dick spoke.
Dick (voice rough): "I met Slade for the first time back when we were still young. When I was fourteen and it was just us, Wally, Kaldur, Artemis, M’gann, and Conner; not long after we rescued the League from Vandal Savage’s control. It was on a solo mission, Robin's first real solo op, and I ran into him."
Zatanna (quietly): "Deathstroke."
Dick (nodding): "He tried to recruit me. Said I had potential. Said Bruce was wasting my talents. I refused, obviously. Fought him. It ended in a draw.", he paused, "And then it kept happening. Every few months, I'd run into him on a mission. Sometimes he was my target. Sometimes we just... crossed paths. And every single time, he'd try to recruit me. And every single time, I'd say no."
Zatanna: "For how long?"
Dick (looking at her): "Years. From when I was fourteen until... until now. Over and over. Different cities. Different missions. Always the same offer. Always the same answer."
Zatanna: “But what about that thing with the Light? Kaldur going undercover and having to fake Artemis’ death?”
Dick: “I didn’t tell him, but he knew. Slade always knows. He agreed to keep my secret, even fed me intel that neither Kaldur nor Artemis couldn’t get their hands on.”
Zatanna: “But why?”
Dick: “Said that he wanted to test me, wanted to see how I would use it. He didn’t want to be a mind-controlled slave of the Reach so he made his own plans.”
Zatanna (processing): "And you never told anyone. Not Bruce. Not the Team. Not me?"
Dick (shame heavy in his voice): "No. I didn't. Because I knew what everyone would think. That I was compromised. That I couldn't be trusted. That maybe I was considering it."
Zatanna (carefully): "Were you? Considering it?"
Dick was quiet for a long moment.
Dick (finally, honestly): "Once. Before Kaldur went on the deep-cover op, it was after Jason died.", he looked at her, "I told you about that. About almost walking away. About meeting someone who offered me a different path?"
Zatanna's eyes widened.
Zatanna: "Slade. You were talking about Slade."
Dick (nodding): "I was on a mission. Solo. It went bad—really bad. I was stranded in hostile territory, no backup, no way out. And Slade was there. We had to work together just to survive. We fought our way out, back to back, and it was—", he stopped, struggling for words, "It was perfect. Seamless. Like we'd been partners for years. And when we got out, he made me the offer again. But at that time?”, Dick's voice dropped, "At that time, I almost said yes."
Zatanna (tears flowing freely now): "Why didn't you?"
Dick: "Because I thought of you. Of the Team. Of everyone who'd see it as betrayal. So I said no. Again. And I thought that was the end of it.", he ran a hand through his hair, "And then the thing with the Light happened, and a few months ago, he contacted me again. Said he was getting old. Said he needed an answer—yes or no, final offer. And I... I met with him."
Zatanna (voice breaking): "The nights you said you were working late. The FBI cases?"
Dick (nodding, guilt crushing him): "I was meeting Slade. Twice a week for the past four months. He's been... training me. Teaching me things Bruce never did. Different techniques. Different mindsets. Ways to be more effective without—", he stopped, "Without compromising who I am."
Zatanna (standing up abruptly, pacing): "Four months. You've been training with Deathstroke for four fucking months and you didn't tell me? Didn't tell anyone?"
Dick (also standing): "I know. I know, Zee, and I'm sorry—"
Zatanna (whirling on him): "Sorry? You're sorry??", her magic flared, unconscious, making the lights flicker, "Do you have any idea what I've been thinking?! The scenarios running through my head? I thought you were pulling away. Thought maybe you didn't want this—us—anymore! Thought maybe I'd done something wrong!"
Dick (moving toward her): "No. No, Zee, never! You didn't do anything wrong. This was all me. All my baggage, my secrets, and my inability to just trust people—"
Zatanna (voice cracking): "I trusted you! I let you in completely! Told you about my dad, about the guilt I carry every day knowing he's trapped as Doctor Fate's host! Told you about Constantine, about the dark magic I experimented with when I felt lost. Told you everything! And you—", she broke off, tears streaming, "You couldn't do the same."
Dick felt like he was being torn apart.
Because she was right. About all of it.
Dick (voice breaking): "You're right. You're absolutely fucking right. And I don't have an excuse. I was scared, scared of losing you, scared of what everyone would think, scared that if I admitted I was even considering Slade's offer, it would make it real."
Zatanna (quieter now): "Are you? Considering it?"
Dick (meeting her eyes): "I don't know. Honestly, I don't know. Part of me is curious about what he could teach me. About becoming something more than what Bruce made me. But another part—the bigger part—knows that accepting would mean crossing a line I can't come back from."
Zatanna (hugging herself): "And the training? What is that?"
Dick: "It's... clarity. When everything else is chaos, Jason, Damian, the Team, the FBI, trying to keep everyone happy and safe? Slade's training is the one thing that makes sense. It's just combat. Just technique. No emotions, no expectations, just... improvement."
Zatanna (sitting back down, exhausted): "Dick, I need you to understand something. I don't want to be angry. I don't want to do something I'd regret. We've been through so much—Kaldur going undercover, faking Artemis's death, almost losing Wally forever. I know what it's like to carry secrets that crush you. I know what it's like to feel like you're drowning and can't ask for help."
She looked up at him, and Dick saw the full weight of her pain and love.
Zatanna: "But right now, all I'm asking is why? Why, Dick? Why hide all of this from me?"
Dick (sitting back down, close but not touching): "Zee..."
Zatanna (voice firm): "I don't want excuses. I just want to know. I just want to understand what's going on in your head. I've already let you in to me, don't I deserve to be let in by you too?"
Dick looked at her—at this incredible woman who'd chosen him, who'd stood by him through everything, who was offering him one more chance.
And he told her everything.
He told her about being fourteen and terrified he'd never live up to Bruce's legacy. About Jason's death tearing him apart because he should've been there and should've protected his little brother.
Every single detail about the mission in hostile territory where he and Slade had fought together and Dick had felt, for the first time in months, effective instead of broken.
He told her about Damian showing up and triggering every protective instinct Dick had, about trying to reach Jason and hitting walls every time, about Bruce being emotionally unavailable and the whole Bat Family being a powder keg ready to explode.
He told her about feeling stretched too thin; between the Team, the FBI, Blüdhaven, Gotham, and being the glue holding everyone together while falling apart himself.
And he told her about Slade's offer. Not just to train him, but to give him freedom. To show him that there was more to heroism than Bruce's rigid rules. To help him become someone who could be effective without compromising his morals.
Dick (voice raw): "You're the only thing keeping me sane, Zee. The only good thing in my life that isn't complicated, painful, or wrapped up in trauma. When I'm with you, I can breathe. I can be me. Not Nightwing, not Batman's protégé, not the Team leader. Just... Dick."
He took her hands, and she didn't pull away.
Dick: "And I was terrified that if you knew about Slade, you'd see me differently. See me as compromised, dangerous, or someone you couldn't trust. I couldn't—", his voice cracked, "I couldn't lose you too. Not when you're the only thing holding me together."
Zatanna's tears fell freely now, and she pulled one hand free to wipe her eyes.
Zatanna (voice thick): "You fucking dumbass. You beautiful, complicated, self-destructive dumbass."
Dick (attempting a smile): "I know."
Zatanna (pulling him closer, so they were finally touching): "I'm not going anywhere, Dick. Not because you're perfect, you're not, but because I love you. All of you. You were the only one there for me after Nabu took my dad away. You spent three nights just to comfort me back in my old room at the Cave. Your hero parts, broken parts, and the parts that make terrible decisions because you think you're protecting people."
Dick (wrapping his arms around her): "I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry, Zee. I should've told you from the beginning. Should've trusted you—"
Zatanna (interrupting, cupping his face): "Yes. You should've. And we're going to have to work on that. On you trusting me enough to share the hard stuff, not just the easy stuff.", she paused, "But I also understand why you didn't. I know what it's like to carry secrets that feel too big to share. I know what it's like to be scared of losing someone you love."
Dick (pressing his forehead to hers): "I don't deserve you."
Zatanna (small smile): "Probably not. But you're stuck with me anyway."
They sat like that for a long moment, just holding each other, the storm finally breaking.
Finally, Zatanna spoke again.
Zatanna (softly): "Did you give him your answer?"
Dick (pulling back slightly to meet her eyes): "No. I haven't, and I don't think I could really decide right now."
Zatanna: "And yet you're still training with him?"
Dick (honest): "...Yes."
Zatanna (searching his face): "Please, I hope you know what you're doing, Dick. I already lost my dad—", her voice caught, "I don't want to lose you too."
Dick (pulling her closer, kissing her forehead): "You won't. I promise. I'm here. I'm opening up all of me to you now. No more secrets. No more lies. Just... us."
Zatanna (leaning into him): "That's all I ask. You know all my secrets, my demons. All the shit I did with Constantine a few years back when I felt lost. I trusted you with all of that. All I ask is that you trust me with all of you too."
Dick (voice firm): "I do, Zee. I promise, I do."
Zatanna (quietly): "My secrets are your secrets."
Dick (holding her tighter): "And my secrets are yours too."
They fell asleep like that, tangled together on the couch, tea and coffee cold on the table, Slade's gift sitting in its box like a promise or a threat.
Outside, the night continued.
In Gotham, Jason Todd prowled the streets as Red Hood.
At the Manor, Damian Wayne plotted his next attempt to prove himself.
And somewhere in the shadows, Slade Wilson watched and waited.
The clock was still ticking.
But for now, in this moment, Dick Grayson had something he'd been missing for months:
Honesty.
Truth.
And maybe, just maybe? That would be enough?
Chapter 6: "The Uninvited Guest"
Notes:
The secret's out, Zatanna knows, and Dick isn't anywhere close to making his choice.
After dropping off that package yesterday, Slade decides that this time, maybe he should pay the couple a visit.
And he should *really* work on his timing...
Chapter Text
The mission had been brutal. Eighteen hours of coordinated Team-League operations taking down a Kobra cult cell that had been trafficking meta-humans. Dick's entire body ached, his ribs were definitely bruised from where a cultist had gotten a lucky hit with a staff, and all he wanted was a hot shower and unconsciousness.
Zatanna looked equally exhausted beside him, her hair disheveled, a cut on her cheek from a stray spell that had gotten too close. She'd burned through most of her magical reserves keeping their team alive.
They stumbled into the apartment together, Dick fumbling for the light switch.
The lights clicked on.
And there, sitting on their couch, feet propped up on their coffee table, nursing what looked like one of their beers, was a man in orange-black tactical gear with an eye-patch.
Slade Wilson.
Deathstroke.
In their apartment.
In their home.
Dick's hands went to his escrima sticks, the new ones Slade had sent, instinct and training overriding exhaustion.
Dick (voice sharp, dangerous): "SLADE! WHAT ARE YOU—"
Slade (not moving, utterly relaxed): "Shush. You'll wake the neighbors."
Dick (quieter but tension coiled in every line of his body): "What the fuck are you doing here?"
Slade (taking a sip of beer): "I wanted to talk. I promise. Plus, I wanted to see the lady in the flesh, see how you two’ve been holding up together recently."
He turned his head slightly, that single eye focusing on Zatanna, who stood behind Dick, hands already beginning to glow with purple magical energy, spell-words forming on her lips.
Slade (waving her off casually): "Relax, sorceress. I come in peace. If Bruce is too much of a bitch to check up on Dick, the least I can do is pick up where he's been slacking off."
Zatanna's hands didn't lower, magic still crackling at her fingertips.
Zatanna (voice cold, controlled): "You have five seconds to explain why I shouldn't turn you into something small and flammable before I call the entire Justice League down on this apartment."
Slade (actually looking impressed): "Fierce. I like her. She's got spine.", he set down the beer, but still didn't move from his relaxed position, "And I'm sure you could call the League. But by the time they got here, I'd be gone. And you'd have a lot of uncomfortable questions to answer about why Deathstroke was in your apartment and you didn't immediately attack."
Dick (jaw tight): "How did you get in?"
Slade (gesturing vaguely): "Your security is good. Better than most. The magical wards—", he nodded to Zatanna, "—are particularly impressive. But I've been doing this for thirty years, kid. There's no lock I can't pick, no ward I can't bypass if I'm patient enough."
Zatanna (to Dick, not taking her eyes off Slade): "He's been here before."
It wasn't a question.
Slade (answering anyway): "First time inside, actually. Usually I just leave packages at the door.", he smiled, "But I thought it was time we all had a proper conversation. Face to face. No secrets."
Dick felt Zatanna's eyes on him, felt the weight of those words.
No secrets.
Dick (slowly lowering his escrima sticks but not putting them away): "You could've called. Texted. Left another cryptic note. You didn't need to break into our home."
Slade (standing now, and despite the casual demeanor, he moved like a predator): "True. But would you have agreed to a meeting with her present?", he looked at Zatanna, "He's been keeping us separate. Compartmentalized. I train him twice a week, you get the rest of him. Clean divisions. No overlap."
Zatanna (magic flaring brighter): "And you thought breaking that boundary was a good idea?"
Slade (tilting his head): "I thought it was necessary. Because Dick's been running himself into the ground trying to keep everyone happy, trying to be everything to everyone, and he's going to break. Soon.", his expression turned serious, "And when he does, people are going to get hurt. People he cares about."
Dick (anger rising): "Don't. Don't you dare presume to know what's best for me—"
Slade (cutting him off): "I don't presume, Dick. I observe. You think I haven't been paying attention? You're juggling the Team, the League, the FBI, Blüdhaven, Gotham, your train-wreck of a family, and a relationship? You're sleeping maybe four hours a night. You've lost weight. I can see the stress fractures forming."
Dick (voice dangerous): "Get. Out."
Slade (not moving): "Not until we talk. All three of us."
Zatanna (stepping forward, past Dick): "Then talk. Say what you came to say. But know this—”
Her magic surged, and suddenly the entire apartment was bathed in purple light, symbols appearing on every surface, ancient and powerful.
Zatanna: "—you're in my home now. My territory. My rules. And if you threaten him? If you try to manipulate him? If you do anything I don't like? I will end you. Deathstroke or not."
For a moment, genuine respect crossed Slade's features.
Slade (lowering himself back onto the couch, hands visible and non-threatening): "Fair enough. I can respect that.", he looked at Dick, "She's good for you. I meant what I said in that note—she's the only good thing in your life right now. Don't fuck it up."
Dick (still tense, still ready): "Why are you here, Slade?"
Slade (leaning back): "Because I'm worried about you, kid. And before you say it—yes, I know how that sounds. Deathstroke, worried about Batman's first protégé. The world must be ending.”, he paused, "But it's true. These past months, training with you, I've seen you getting worse. More reckless. More desperate. And tonight, watching you two stumble in here like walking wounded...", he shook his head, "You can't keep doing this."
Zatanna (magic still active but listening): "Doing what?"
Slade (looking at her): "Trying to save everyone. Fix everyone. Be everyone's rock while he's crumbling inside. Jason hates him. Damian barely tolerates him. Bruce is too emotionally constipated to have a real conversation. The Team needs their leader to be strong. The League expects perfection. And you—", he looked at Dick, "—you're trying to give everyone what they need while you’re running on empty."
Dick (voice rough): "I'm fine."
Slade (standing again, moving closer): "You're not. You almost got killed tonight. I was watching, don’t ask how, I have my ways. I saw the mission go down, that Kobra agent with the staff? He should never have gotten that close. You were slow. Distracted. If Zatanna hadn't covered you—"
Zatanna (quietly, to Dick): "He's kinda right. That Kobra agent almost had the drop on you."
Dick (turning to her): "I had it under control—"
Zatanna: "Dick, I saw it too. You were half a second too slow. If I hadn't thrown up that shield...", she didn't finish the sentence.
Dick felt something crack inside him.
Because they were both right.
He had hesitated. Had been thinking about Jason's latest violent escapade, about Damian's training session that morning where the kid had nearly taken Tim's eye out, about Bruce's silent disapproval, about the Team mission briefing he'd missed because of FBI paperwork.
He'd been distracted.
And it had almost gotten him killed.
Dick (sitting down heavily on the arm of the couch): "So what? What do you want me to do? Quit the Team? Abandon my family? Give up on Jason and Damian?"
Slade (voice surprisingly gentle): "No. I want you to make a choice. A real choice. Not this half-measure existence where you're trying to be everything and ending up being nothing to anyone."
Dick: "What choice?"
Slade (looking between Dick and Zatanna): "The offer still stands. Train with me. Really train with me. Not just twice a week in a warehouse, but properly. Learn everything I can teach you. Become something more than Batman's first failure."
Dick (flinching): "I'm not—"
Slade: "You think you're not? Bruce replaced you. Twice. Jason's back and he can barely look at you. Damian's got Bruce's blood and you're just the help. Tim's competent enough that you're not even necessary anymore.", he paused, "When's the last time Bruce told you he was proud of you? That you mattered?"
The silence that followed was deafening.
Because Dick couldn't answer.
Couldn't remember.
Zatanna (softly): "Dick..."
Slade (pressing the advantage): "I'm not asking you to become a villain. I told you that before, I'm not asking you to kill or betray your principles. I'm asking you to become effective. To stop pulling your punches because you're scared of disappointing Bruce. To embrace what you could be without all his limitations holding you back."
Dick (looking up): "And what would that make me?"
Slade: "Free. Powerful. Someone who doesn't have to choose between being a hero and being effective. Someone who can protect the people he loves without compromising himself."
Zatanna (to Slade): "And what do you get out of this?"
Slade (turning to her): "Legacy. I'm fifty-three years old. My healing factor's slowing down. One day, probably soon, I'm going to run into someone faster, better, or just luckier, and I'm going to die. When that happens, I want to know that what I built—the skills, the knowledge, the reputation—goes to someone worthy. Someone who'll use it for something better than I ever did."
Zatanna: "You want redemption."
Slade (smile turning sad): "I want to not be completely irredeemable. There's a difference.", he looked back at Dick, "You know that I see myself in you, kid. The person I could've been. The person I should've been. Let me help you avoid my mistakes."
Dick (standing, pacing): "You're asking me to choose between everything I've built and... what? A fantasy? A promise that maybe if I train with you, everything will magically get better?"
Slade: "I'm asking you to choose yourself for once. Not the Team. Not Bruce. Not even her—", he gestured to Zatanna, "—You. What do you want, Dick Grayson? Not Nightwing. Not the first Robin. Not Batman's heir. You."
Dick opened his mouth, then closed it.
Because he didn't have an answer.
Hadn't had an answer for years.
He'd been so busy being what everyone needed that he'd forgotten how to be himself.
Zatanna (moving to stand beside Dick, taking his hand): "He needs time to think. To process. You can't just break into our home and demand a life-changing decision."
Slade (nodding): "Fair. But the clock's still ticking. I meant what I said—I don't have forever.", he moved toward the balcony door, "One last two weeks. Final offer. Yes or no. If it's no, I walk away. Find someone else. And we never have this conversation again."
Dick: "And if it's yes?"
Slade (pausing at the door): "Then we start properly. Full training. You take a leave of absence from the Team. Tell them you need time, family emergency, whatever. You step back from the FBI for a few months. You focus on becoming who you're meant to be.", he looked at Zatanna, "And you—if you really do love him? If you really want what's best for him? You support this. Even if it scares you. Even if you don't understand it."
Zatanna (magic flaring again): "Don't presume to tell me how to love him."
Slade (smile returning): "Wasn't presuming. Just stating facts.", he opened the balcony door, "Two weeks, Dick. Make a choice. Your choice. Not mine, not Bruce's, not hers. Yours."
And then he was gone, vanishing into the night like he'd never been there.
The apartment fell silent except for the hum of Zatanna's wards slowly powering down.
Dick stood frozen, mind churning, hand still in Zatanna's.
Zatanna (finally): "Are you okay?"
Dick (laughing without humor): "No. Not even a little bit."
Zatanna (squeezing his hand): "Come on. Shower. Food. Then we talk."
Dick: "Zee, I don't know if I can—"
Zatanna (cutting him off gently): "Shower first. Self-care first. The existential crisis can wait until you're clean and fed."
Despite everything, Dick felt himself smile.
Dick: "When did you become the responsible one?"
Zatanna (tugging him toward the bathroom): "Someone has to be. And you're clearly not capable of taking care of yourself right now."
[40 Minutes Later]
They sat on the couch, the same couch Slade had been sitting on, though Zatanna had thoroughly cleansed it with magic "just in case", leftover Chinese food and tea on the table.
Dick had showered, changed into comfortable clothes, and looked marginally more human.
But the haunted expression in his eyes remained.
Zatanna (setting down her tea): "Okay. Talk to me. What are you thinking?"
Dick (staring at his untouched food): "I'm thinking that he's right. About all of it. I am running myself into the ground. I am trying to be everything to everyone. And I'm failing. Spectacularly."
Zatanna: "You're not failing—"
Dick (looking at her): "I almost died tonight because I was distracted. Jason won't talk to me. Damian barely tolerates me. Bruce and I have maybe one real conversation every six months. The Team is running fine without me—Kaldur's leading most missions now. The FBI is just... a cover I maintain out of habit.", he ran a hand through his damp hair, "What am I even doing anymore?"
Zatanna (carefully): "You're helping people. Saving lives. Being a hero."
Dick (bitter laugh): "Am I? Or am I just going through the motions because it's all I know? Because if I stop, I have to actually figure out who I am without the mask?"
Zatanna was quiet for a moment, then shifted closer.
Zatanna: "Do you want to accept his offer?"
Dick: "I don't know. Part of me—a big part—is terrified of what it would mean. What people would think. What you'd think."
Zatanna: "What I think is that you're an adult who can make his own decisions. What I think is that you've been carrying everyone else's expectations for so long that you've forgotten you're allowed to want things for yourself.", she took his hand, "What I think is that I love you. Training with Slade or not, Team leader or not, FBI agent or not—I love you. And if accepting his offer makes you happy, makes you feel whole, then I support it."
Dick (voice cracking): "Even if it means working with a dangerous mercenary? Someone the League considers a villain?"
Zatanna: "Slade's complicated. He's done terrible things. But he's also not wrong about Bruce, about the Bat Family, about you stretching yourself too thin. And if training with him gives you the tools to survive, to be effective, to be happy...", she squeezed his hand, "Then yeah. Even then."
Dick (pulling her into his arms): "I don't deserve you."
Zatanna (against his chest): "We've established this. You're stuck with me anyway."
They sat like that for a long time, just holding each other.
Finally, Dick pulled back enough to look at her.
Dick: "If I do this, if I accept, it would mean taking time away from everything. From the Team. From us."
Zatanna: "We'll figure it out. We always do."
Dick: "You'd be okay with that? With me disappearing for months to train with Deathstroke?"
Zatanna (considering): "Okay? No. I'd hate it. I'd miss you constantly and worry about you and probably lose sleep. But would I support it if it's what you need? Yes. Because that's what love is, Dick. It's supporting each other's growth, even when it's hard. Even when it's scary."
Dick felt tears prick his eyes.
Because she meant it.
Every word.
Dick: "I need time. To think about what I want. What I really want, not what everyone expects."
Zatanna (kissing his forehead): "Then take it. Two weeks, like Slade said. Think about it. Talk to me about it. And whatever you decide, we'll face it together."
Dick: "Together."
Zatanna: "Always."
They finished their food in comfortable silence, the weight of the decision hanging over them but manageable now, shared between them instead of crushing Dick alone.
Later, lying in bed with Zatanna curled against his side, Dick stared at the ceiling and thought about Slade's words.
"What do you want, Dick Grayson?"
For the first time in years, he was going to figure out the answer.
And whatever it was, whatever he decided, he wouldn't be alone.
Zatanna's breathing evened out beside him, her hand resting over his heart.
Home.
Safe.
Loved.
Maybe that was enough.
Or maybe he needed something more.
He had two weeks to decide.
The clock was ticking.
Chapter 7: "The Choice"
Summary:
They say that saying goodbye is hard, in reality, it's *way* worse.
As he prepares to make his leave of absence, the least he could do was spend one more time hanging out with his friends, the Original Team.
And maybe, enjoy his last night with Zatanna for the foreseeable future...
Chapter Text
[Two Weeks Later - Mount Justice - Evening]
The original Team sat in what had once been their common room which was now mostly used for nostalgia trips and reunions. The Cave had been rebuilt long after Kaldur blew it up as part of his undercover operation with the Light. Though the Team’s official base of operations was now the Watchtower, they still hung around Mount Justice from time to time.
Wally had grabbed pizza from their old favorite place in Happy Harbour. Artemis brought beer. Kaldur had insisted on actual plates and napkins because "we're adults now, not teenagers eating over the sink". M'gann had baked cookies and Conner was pretending he didn't love them while eating his fourth.
Dick sat among them, memorizing every detail.
Wally's laugh when Artemis stole a pepperoni off his slice. Kaldur's quiet smile as he listened to M'gann talk about her latest class at the Martian embassy. Conner's arm casually draped over M'gann's shoulders, comfortable and right in a way it had taken years to achieve.
His family.
The people who'd been with him since the beginning, since they were just kids trying to prove they could be heroes.
Wally (mouth full of pizza): "Dude, you okay? You've barely touched your food and you're doing that thing."
Dick (blinking): "What thing?"
Artemis (leaning back against Wally): "The brooding thing. The 'I'm memorizing this moment for later' thing. Very Batman of you."
Dick (attempting a smile): "Can't a guy just appreciate his friends?"
Conner (suspicious): "Usually no. Something's up."
Dick set down his untouched slice, suddenly aware that all eyes were on him.
This was it.
“Time to tell them.”
Dick (taking a breath): "I need to tell you guys something. And I need you to hear me out before jumping to conclusions or trying to talk me out of it."
Kaldur (concerned): "Dick, what's wrong?"
Dick: "Nothing's wrong. Or—everything's wrong. I don't know.", he ran a hand through his hair, "I'm taking a leave of absence. From the Team. Extended. At least a few months, maybe longer."
The silence that followed was deafening.
M'gann (softly): "What? Why?"
Dick: "Because I need to. I've been running on empty for months—longer than that, probably. Between the Team, the FBI, Blüdhaven, the Family chaos with Jason and Damian... I'm stretched too thin. I'm making mistakes. Almost got killed two weeks ago because I was distracted."
Wally (sitting forward): "So take a vacation. A few weeks. Rest up. You don't need to leave—"
Dick (shaking his head): "It's more than that, Wally. I need to figure out who I am when I'm not trying to be everyone's leader, everyone's big brother, everyone's solution. I need to step back and find myself again."
Artemis (understanding dawning): "This is about Jason, and Damian?"
Dick: "Partly. Jason hates me. Damian barely tolerates me. Bruce is... Bruce. And I keep trying to fix it, keep trying to be what they need, and I'm drowning."
Conner (gruff but concerned): "You should've said something. We could've helped—"
Dick (smiling sadly): "I know. But this is something I need to do alone. Or—not alone, but not with the Team. I need space to breathe. To train. To figure out what Dick Grayson wants, not what Nightwing or Robin or Batman's heir is supposed to want."
Kaldur (quiet, thoughtful): "Where will you go?"
Dick: "I can't tell you. Not because I don't trust you—", he looked around at them, "—but because if I tell you, you'll worry. You'll check in. You'll try to help. And I need to do this without that safety net."
M'gann (tears forming): "But you'll come back? You're not leaving for good, right?"
Dick (standing, moving to kneel in front of her): "I'll come back, M'gann. I promise. This isn't goodbye forever. It's just... goodbye for now. I need to do this."
M'gann pulled him into a hug, and Dick felt her telepathic presence—gentle, supportive, loving—brush against his mind.
“Be safe. Come home. We love you.”
Dick squeezed her tight, then pulled back.
Wally (standing, voice rough): "You're really doing this. No matter what we say."
Dick (also standing): "Yeah. I am."
Wally stared at him for a long moment, and Dick saw the moment his best friend accepted it. Saw the understanding and support beneath the concern.
Wally (pulling Dick into a hug, hard and fierce): "You better come back, Dick. I didn't get pulled out of the Speed Force just to lose my best friend to some stupid soul-searching journey."
Dick (laughing wetly): "Wouldn't dream of it, KF."
Artemis hugged him next, then Kaldur, formal and warm and full of unspoken worry, and finally Conner, who just clapped him on the shoulder and said, "Don't do anything stupid."
Dick (grinning): "Define stupid."
Conner (almost smiling): "You know what I mean."
They spent the rest of the evening pretending everything was normal, telling old stories, laughing at shared memories, being the kids they'd been when this had all started.
But underneath it all, Dick felt the weight of goodbye.
Not forever. Just for now.
Just long enough to find himself again.
[2:47 AM - Zatanna’s Apartment]
Dick slipped through the balcony door to find Zatanna sitting on the couch, wrapped in a blanket, a mug of tea cooling on the coffee table.
She looked up when he entered, and her smile was small and sad and understanding.
Zatanna: "How'd it go?"
Dick (moving to sit beside her): "Hard. They don't understand, but they're supporting it anyway. Because they're good people and they love me."
Zatanna (leaning against him): "They're not the only ones."
Dick (wrapping an arm around her): "I know."
They sat in comfortable silence for a moment, the apartment quiet around them.
Finally, Zatanna stood, taking his hand.
Zatanna: "Come on. Bed. One last night before you go play apprentice to the world's deadliest mercenary."
Dick (following her): "When you put it like that, it sounds insane."
Zatanna (over her shoulder, small smile): "That's because it is insane. But it's your insane, so I'm supporting it."
They moved to the bedroom, and what followed was slow and tender and desperate all at once.
Clothes shed carefully, reverently. Hands mapping familiar territory like it was the first time. Kisses that tasted like goodbye and promises and love.
Dick had memorized Zatanna's body long ago, the curve of her waist, the small scar on her shoulder from a mission gone wrong, the way she sighed when he kissed that spot just below her ear.
But tonight, he memorized her soul. The way her magic hummed beneath her skin when she was emotional. The way her eyes reflected the moonlight. The way she whispered his name like a prayer.
They made love slowly, carefully, like they had all the time in the world when they both knew they didn't.
After, they lay tangled together, sheets pooled around their waists, skin cooling in the night air.
Zatanna traced patterns on Dick's chest, absent, soothing, and Dick ran his fingers through her hair.
Zatanna (voice quiet): "How long?"
Dick: "Slade said a few months minimum. Six, maybe. Could be longer depending on how the training goes."
Zatanna (burying herself deeper in his arms): "That's a long time."
Dick (tightening his hold): "I know. But I'll call. Text when I can. As often as I can."
Zatanna (propping herself up to look at him): "Just please, promise me one thing."
Dick (looking down at her): "Yes, Zee. Anything."
Zatanna (meeting his eyes, and hers were bright with unshed tears): "Promise me you'll come back to me. That you'll come back home."
Dick (cupping her face): "I will. I promise."
Zatanna (voice breaking): "Not as someone different. Not as some version of yourself that I don't recognize. As you. As Dick. The man I fell in love with."
Dick (pulling her up so they were face to face): "I'm not going to lose myself, Zee. I'm going to find myself. The real me. Not Batman's protégé, not the Team leader, just me. And that person loves you with everything he has. That won't change. Can't change."
Zatanna (tears falling now): "You promise?"
Dick (wiping her tears with his thumb): "I promise."
They kissed, slow, deep, passionate. Full of all the love and feelings and emotions they held for each other. Savouring the taste of each other's lips and the sensation of each other's tongues.
When they finally broke apart, both breathing hard, Zatanna pressed her forehead to his.
Zatanna (whisper): "I love you, Dick Grayson. Come home to me."
Dick (whisper back): "I love you, Zatanna Zatara. Always."
They fell asleep like that, wrapped around each other, hearts beating in sync, storing up warmth, love, home for the months ahead.
[The Following Night - The Warehouse - Midnight]
Dick arrived at their usual training spot dressed in tactical gear, dark gray and black, practical, his. Not Nightwing's uniform. Not Robin's colours. Something new.
The escrima sticks Slade had given him were magnetic-locked to his back. A go-bag sat at his feet with everything he'd need for an extended absence.
He'd left a note for Bruce at the Manor, something short, direct, and final:
“Taking time for myself. Don't look for me. I'll be in touch when I'm ready. —D”
Zatanna had promised to cover for him with the League and the Team. To field the questions and concerns. To protect his privacy.
He trusted she would.
Slade stepped out of the shadows, dressed in full tactical gear but without the mask. His expression was carefully neutral, but Dick caught the flash of something—satisfaction? pride?—in that single eye.
Dick (setting down his bag): "Well. Here I am."
Slade (stopping a few feet away): "And?"
Dick (meeting his gaze head-on): "I accept."
Slade studied him for a long moment, then nodded slowly.
Slade: "Are you sure? This won't be easy. You'll be giving up a significant portion of your life, and you won't be the same man afterwards."
Dick (nodding): "Yes. But on my terms."
Slade (slight smile): "By all means."
Dick (voice firm): "No killing. No murder. No assassinations. No bringing down countries or governments. And nothing that would lead me to having to face Bruce, Zatanna, my friends, the Team, the Family, or the League in combat. Those are my lines. Cross them, and I'm gone."
Slade (considering): "That cuts out about seventy percent of my usual work."
Dick (not backing down): "Then I guess we'll be creative with the other thirty percent."
Slade stared at him, and Dick saw the moment the assassin decided.
Slade (extending his hand): "Consider it done. We work within your boundaries. You want to stay a hero while learning from a villain? Fine. We'll make it work."
Dick (taking his hand, firm grip): "I'm not learning from a villain. I'm learning from a teacher. What you do with your skills is your business. What I do with mine is mine."
Slade (genuine smile now): "Good. That's the mindset I want. Clear boundaries. Clear identity. None of Bruce's bleeding-hearts guilt.", he released Dick's hand, "Grab your bag. We've got a long trip ahead of us."
Dick (picking up the go-bag): "Where are we going?"
Slade (turning toward the exit): "Somewhere remote. Somewhere no satellites or League surveillance can find us. Somewhere you can train without distractions.", he paused, "Somewhere you can scream and bleed and break without anyone hearing."
Dick (following): "You really know how to sell it."
Slade (over his shoulder): "I'm not selling anything, kid. I'm being honest. The next six months are going to be hell. You're going to hate me. Hate yourself. Question every decision that brought you here.", he stopped, turning to face Dick fully, "But at the end of it, you'll be better. Sharper. More effective. More yourself than you've ever been."
Dick: "And if I can't handle it? If I want out?"
Slade (serious): "Then you walk away. No hard feelings. No consequences. I'll even help you get back to your old life. But Dick—", his expression softened slightly, "—I don't think you will. Walk away, I mean. I think you're going to see this through. Because that's who you are. Someone who finishes what they start."
Dick (feeling the weight of that truth): "Yeah. I am."
Slade (nodding): "Then let's begin."
They left the warehouse together; mentor and student, villain and hero, two men walking a line that existed somewhere between darkness and light.
Dick didn't look back.
Didn't second-guess.
Didn't let himself think about what Bruce would say, what the Team would think, what the world would think.
This was his choice.
His path.
His terms.
And for the first time in years, Dick Grayson felt like he was exactly where he was supposed to be.
[At the Same Time - Zatanna’s Apartment]
Zatanna sat on the balcony, wrapped in a blanket that still smelled like Dick, staring at the Gotham skyline in the distance.
Her phone buzzed. A text from an unknown number:
(Unknown:) “He's with me. He's safe. I'll take care of him and keep you posted. —S”
Zatanna stared at the message for a long moment, then typed a response:
(Zatanna:) “You better. Because if he comes back broken, I will hunt you down and make you wish you'd never been born. Magic is very creative when it comes to revenge. —Z”
The response came almost immediately:
(Unknown:) “I believe you. Don't worry, sorceress. I'm not breaking him. I'm building him. There's a difference. —S”
Zatanna locked her phone and pulled the blanket tighter.
Six months.
Maybe longer.
She could do this.
They could do this.
Because Dick was coming home. He'd promised.
And Dick Grayson always kept his promises.
Zatanna closed her eyes and whispered a protection spell into the night—ancient words of power, woven with love and hope and desperate prayer.
"Tcetorp mih. Gnirb mih emoh efas. Tel mih dnif tahw eh sdeen."
Protect him. Bring him home safe. Let him find what he needs.
The magic dispersed into the darkness, following the thread that connected her heart to his, finding him wherever he was.
And in a car speeding toward some unknown destination, Dick felt a warmth in his chest, familiar, comforting, her.
He touched the spot over his heart and smiled.
Home.
He'd find his way back.
No matter how long it took.
No matter what he had to become to get there.
He'd find his way back to her.
Always.
Chapter 8: "Refinement"
Summary:
Dick undergoes training with Slade, and it's even more of a hell than he first anticipated.
Chapter Text
[Training, 2 Months In - Undisclosed Location]
Dick's knuckles split open against the reinforced training dummy for the third time that hour.
He didn't stop.
Left jab. Right cross. Elbow. Knee. Sweep.
The dummy, designed by Slade to withstand superhuman punishment, rocked on its base but held firm.
Blood dripped onto the concrete floor, mixing with sweat and the remnants of the morning's rain that had leaked through the warehouse roof.
Slade watched from the shadows, arms crossed, expression unreadable.
Slade: "Again. You're still telegraphing the knee strike."
Dick (breathing hard, vision blurring slightly): "I'm not—"
Slade (moving faster than thought, sweeping Dick's legs): "You are."
Dick hit the ground hard, the impact driving the air from his lungs. He rolled instinctively, coming up in a defensive crouch, escrima sticks already in hand.
Slade hadn't moved. Just stood there, waiting.
Slade: "You're fighting like you're still trying to prove something. Like you're still Batman's sidekick trying to earn approval. Stop thinking. Just move."
Dick (spitting blood): "Easy for you to say. You've had thirty years of practice."
Slade (slight smile): "And now you're going to get thirty years' worth of training compressed into six months. Lucky you." He gestured. "Break for water. Then we're running drills until you can do them in your sleep."
Dick collapsed onto a nearby bench, grabbing his water bottle with shaking hands. His entire body screamed, muscles torn and rebuilding, bones aching, skin split and healing.
The serum Slade had given him two months ago was working. Had to be. Because no normal human could survive this level of hell.
(Flashback: Training, Day 1)
They'd arrived at the location after eighteen hours of travel; planes, cars, hiking through terrain Dick couldn't identify. Somewhere remote. Somewhere forgotten.
The compound was utilitarian, concrete and steel designed for function over comfort. Training rooms, a small medical bay, living quarters that were Spartan at best.
And unexpectedly, someone was waiting for them.
The man was in their sixties, maybe even seventies? Around Alfred’s age, he thought.
Wintergreen: “Took you long enough.”
British, of course.
Dick: “And who the hell are you?”
Wintergreen: “No need to be hostile, lad. Consider me as Slade’s handler.”
Slade: “Kid, this is Wintergreen. Wintergreen, this is Dick. Get used to seeing each other for the next few months.”
Wintergreen (extending a hand out): “Looking forward to working with you, kid.”
Dick hesitated before nodding and taking it.
Slade walked past them and led Dick to the medical bay.
In the center of it all, a metal table with a single syringe.
Dick had stared at it, every instinct Bruce had trained into him screaming danger.
Slade stood on the opposite side of the table, expression serious.
Slade: "You'll need this for the shit we'll be doing."
Dick (suspicious): "The fuck is that?"
Wintergreen: "A refined version of the super soldier serum used on Slade. Nothing dangerous of the sort unlike Bane's Venom, Joker's Toxin, or Scarecrow's Fear Toxin. It'll give you enhanced senses, improved perception and coordination, heighten your thinking and analytical skills, but above all else?", he paused, "It'll give you his healing factor."
Dick felt ice in his veins.
Dick (taking a step back): "I didn't agree to be experimented on, Slade."
Slade (raising a hand): "You didn't, but you need this anyway. I promised your girl to bring you back alive, and I'll be damned if you die on me.", he picked up the syringe, "The training I'm going to put you through would kill a normal human in the first week. Broken bones. Torn muscles. Organ damage. Without this, you won't survive, let alone improve."
Dick stared at the vial, mind racing.
“This is insane. This is a line. Once I cross it, there's no going back.”
But he'd come this far. Had left everything behind. Had promised Zatanna he'd come home alive.
A long pause.
Dick (voice hard): "...Fine. But if this has any side-effects? Or nasty shit like microscopic trackers, nanites allowing you to kill me remotely, or anything else? I'm killing you first before you could kill me."
Slade (something almost like respect crossing his features): "Consider this a parting gift. If I die, at least I know someone has the same gifts that I carried. I'll reveal to you the formula later down the line."
Wintergreen: “And I’ll make sure it happens.”
He'd administered the injection himself; professional, clinical, careful.
The serum had burned going in, liquid fire in Dick's veins. He'd collapsed, convulsing, as his body tore itself apart and rebuilt itself at the cellular level.
Slade had caught him before he hit the ground.
Slade (voice low): "Breathe through it. It'll pass. Just breathe."
Dick had wanted to curse him, to fight, to run.
But he'd stayed.
And when the fire finally faded—hours later, or maybe minutes, time had become meaningless—Dick had felt different.
Sharper. Faster. More.
Slade (helping him sit up): "How do you feel?"
Dick (testing his limbs, feeling the new strength humming beneath his skin): "Like I could run through a wall."
Slade (grim smile): "Good. Because tomorrow, we start breaking you down so I can build you back up properly."
Wintergreen patted him on the shoulder.
Wintergreen: “Good luck, lad. I’ll prep your quarters for the night.”
Slade hadn't been lying.
[Present - Training, 4 Months In]
Dick moved through the obstacle course with mechanical precision; walls scaled in seconds, pits crossed with impossible leaps, targets hit with lethal accuracy.
His body had changed over the months. Leaner. More defined. Every movement economical, efficient, deadly.
Slade watched from the control room, noting times, analyzing form, finding flaws that would've been invisible to anyone else.
The Dick Grayson who'd arrived four months ago, exhausted, conflicted, desperate, was gone.
In his place was something new. Something refined.
Still a hero. Still Dick. But more.
Slade pressed the intercom.
Slade: "Enough. Come up."
Dick finished the course in record time, then made his way to the control room. He was barely winded, healing factor already knitting together the minor cuts from the razor wire section.
Slade (studying him): "You're ready."
Dick (surprised): "Ready for what?"
Slade: "Field work. Real work. We've spent four months on fundamentals. Time to put theory into practice."
Dick (cautious): "What kind of ‘field work?’"
Wintergreen was already beside them, carrying a tray of water bottles and refreshments.
Slade (pulling up a holographic display): "Nothing that crosses your lines. No killing, no government destabilization, nothing that puts you against the League or your family.", he gestured to the display, "This is a trafficking ring. Meta-humans. Kids, mostly. They operate in Eastern Europe, well outside League jurisdiction. Local authorities are either paid off or too scared to act."
Dick (studying the intel): "And you want me to take them down?”
Slade: "I want us to take them down. Together. Like that time we got stranded after Jason died. Except this time, you're not the desperate kid trying to survive. You're my partner."
Dick felt something shift in his chest.
Partner.
Not sidekick. Not apprentice. Partner.
Dick: “Is Wintergreen coming with us?”
Wintergreen (snickering): “Heaven’s no, lad. I'm too old for that rubbish, but I’ll manage the ops as your handler.”
Dick (turning to Slade): "When do we leave?"
Slade (smile returning): "Tonight. Pack light. We'll be moving fast."
[Bi-Weekly Meeting - Neutral Location - Safehouse in Prague]
Dick arrived at the safe house three hours before dawn, moving through shadows with the kind of ease that would've made Batman proud.
The safe house was small with only one bedroom, kitchenette, and bathroom. But it was theirs. A neutral space Slade had set up for these meetings, warded by Zatanna's magic to prevent surveillance.
It was a deal he had worked out with Slade and Slade surprisingly agreed to it.
Dick had been counting the days. Fourteen since the last meeting. Fourteen days of Slade's brutal training, of missions that pushed every boundary without crossing his lines, of becoming someone new.
Fourteen days without her.
The door opened before he could knock.
Zatanna stood there in jeans and one of his old t-shirts, hair loose around her shoulders, and Dick felt something in his chest break and mend simultaneously.
Zatanna (voice thick): "Hey."
Dick (voice rough): "Hey yourself."
They crashed together like gravity, like inevitability, like home.
Zatanna's arms wrapped around his neck, Dick's around her waist, lifting her off her feet as they kissed with the desperation of people who'd been separated too long.
When they finally broke apart, both breathing hard, Zatanna pulled back enough to study him.
Her hands traced his face, his shoulders, mapping the changes.
Zatanna (noticing everything): "You're different. More... defined. And is that a new scar?", she touched his collarbone, where a thin line marked where Slade had gotten past his guard during knife training.
Dick (catching her hand, kissing her palm): "It's nothing. Healed in seconds. The serum Slade gave me, the healing factor. I'm fine."
Zatanna (pulling back, concern flashing): "Serum? Dick, what—"
Dick (gently): "I'll explain. I promise. But first—", he pulled her back in, pressing his forehead to hers, "—let me just have this for a minute. Just you. Just us."
Zatanna softened, wrapping her arms around him again.
They stood like that in the doorway, holding each other, breathing each other in.
Finally, Zatanna tugged him inside, locking and warding the door behind them.
They sat on the small couch, tea and coffee on the table (she'd brought his favorite blend, because of course she had), hands intertwined.
Dick told her about the serum. About meeting Wintergreen. About the training. About the missions Slade had been taking him on, careful to stay within Dick's boundaries, targeting traffickers and slavers and the kind of scum that the League couldn't touch due to jurisdiction or politics.
Zatanna listened, asking questions, processing it all with the sharp intelligence that had made her one of the League's most effective members.
Dick (running his free hand through his hair): "I'm sorry you have to lie to them, Zee."
Zatanna (squeezing his hand): "It's alright. I'm managing so far, nothing I can't handle."
Dick: "And Bruce?"
Zatanna (smile turning wry): "Too busy with the League, his family, and the new additions to even keep track of anything."
Dick (frowning): "New additions?"
Zatanna: "Yeah. Steph, Cass, and Duke."
Dick (remembering): "Ahhhh... Guess he finally took them in. Well, more fuel to the fire I guess."
He felt a pang, guilt, maybe? Or just sadness? His family was expanding, and he wasn't there to see it. To help. To be part of it.
“But I needed this.”
Dick: "Still, you shouldn't have to do this. Lying and covering for me."
Zatanna (clasping both his hands now, forcing him to meet her eyes): "I can manage, Dick. Besides, remember what we promised to each other? Your secrets are my secrets."
Dick (small smile): "And mine are yours."
They kissed again; soft, sweet, home, before pulling apart.
Zatanna (hesitating): "Speaking of my secrets..."
Dick (concerned): "What is it?"
Zatanna took a breath, and Dick saw nervousness in her expression. Rare for her.
Zatanna: "I've been... working with Constantine again lately. And a few of his people. Learning more about dark magic."
Dick felt his stomach drop.
Dark magic. Constantine. The kind of shit that gets people killed or worse.
But he pushed down the panic, the instinct to protect, control, and forbid.
"She's not mine to control. She's her own person. And she trusts me enough to tell me this."
Dick (carefully): "Who else knows?"
Zatanna: "Just that drunk bastard John, and now you."
She was watching him carefully, waiting for judgment, for anger, for rejection.
Zatanna (voice small): "You're not... mad at me, are you?"
Dick pulled her closer, cupping her face.
Dick: "You trust me enough to leave me with Slade. The least I can do is trust you too. You're strong, powerful, and smart. I know you can handle yourself."
Zatanna's eyes widened, something bright and vulnerable flashing across her features.
Zatanna (voice thick): "I love you."
Dick (pressing his forehead to hers): "I love you too."
They kissed again; longingly, slow, deep, passionate. With all the love and feelings and emotions they held for each other, savoring the taste of each other's lips and the sensation of each other's tongues.
They kissed the way only the two of them knew how.
When they finally broke apart, both flushed and breathing hard, Zatanna pulled him toward the bedroom.
Zatanna (voice low): "We have six hours before you have to leave. I intend to make the most of them."
Dick (following without hesitation): "Yes, ma'am."
[Hours Later - Before Dawn]
They lay tangled together in the small bed, sheets pooled around their waists, skin cooling in the pre-dawn air.
Dick traced idle patterns on Zatanna's shoulder, memorizing the feel of her, storing it up for the next fourteen days.
Zatanna (voice sleepy but content): "How much longer? Until you're done with training?"
Dick: "Slade says two more months. Maybe three. Depends on how the field work goes."
Zatanna (propping herself up to look at him): "And then you'll come home?"
Dick (meeting her eyes): "Then I come home. To you. To us. And we figure out what comes next. Together."
Zatanna (small smile): "I'm holding you to that."
Dick (pulling her down for another kiss): "I'm counting on it."
As the sun began to rise, painting the Prague skyline in gold and pink, Dick held Zatanna close and let himself feel complete for a few more precious minutes.
Then his phone buzzed. Text from Slade:
(S:) It's time. Wheels up in thirty. Don't be late.”
Dick sighed, pressing a kiss to Zatanna's forehead.
Dick (quietly): "I have to go."
Zatanna (tightening her hold): "I know. Again in two weeks?"
Dick: "Two weeks. I’ll see you then."
They dressed slowly, reluctantly, stealing kisses and touches until the last possible moment.
At the door, Zatanna pulled him in for one final kiss—deep, desperate, claiming.
Zatanna (against his lips): "Come back to me. Always come back to me."
Dick: "Always."
He left before he could change his mind, before he could say ‘fuck the training’ and just stay.
Behind him, Zatanna stood in the doorway, watching him disappear into the morning light.
Her hand went to the pendant around her neck, a protection charm she'd crafted specifically for him, keyed to his magical signature.
As long as he wore the matching one (hidden under his tactical gear), she'd always be able to find him.
Always be able to bring him home.
Zatanna whispered into the dawn:
"Tcetorp mih. Peek mih efas. Gnirb mih kcab ot em."
Protect him. Keep him safe. Bring him back to me.
The magic dispersed, following that invisible thread that connected their hearts.
And in a car speeding toward the extraction point, Dick felt warmth bloom in his chest; familiar, comforting, her.
He touched the pendant hidden beneath his shirt and smiled.
Two more months. Maybe three.
Then home.
Then her.
Then finally figuring out who Dick Grayson was supposed to be.
He could make it.
They could make it.
Because what they had was worth waiting for.
Worth fighting for.
Always.
[Six Months After Departure - Last Week of Training]
Wintergreen: “You ready, lad?”
Dick: “Been looking forward to this, Wintergreen.”
Wintergreen (smirking): “Good, good luck. Don’t fuck it up.”
Dick handed over his water bottle to the old handler, and Wintergreen went on his way.
He now stood in the center of the training room, facing Slade.
No weapons. No armor. Just two men and everything they'd learned together.
Slade (settling into stance): "Last test. You beat me in hand-to-hand, you graduate. You lose, we go another month."
Dick (also settling into stance, and his form was perfect now; no wasted motion, readiness, lethality): "And if I win?"
Slade (smile dangerous): "Then you're ready. Ready to go home. Ready to face whatever comes next. Ready to be who you were always meant to be."
Dick: "No holding back?"
Slade: "No holding back. Let's see what you've become, partner."
They moved. A blur of strikes and counters, blocks and sweeps, each reading the other with the kind of synchronization that came from months of brutal training.
Dick wasn't fighting like Bruce's protégé anymore.
He was fighting like himself. Fluid. Adaptive. Free.
The fight lasted seven minutes, an eternity in combat terms.
And when it ended, Slade was on his back, Dick's hand at his throat, positioned for a killing blow that would never come.
They were both breathing hard, covered in sweat and minor wounds already healing.
Slade (grin spreading across his face): "Well, fuck me. You actually did it."
Dick (offering his hand): "Learned from the best."
Slade (taking it, letting Dick pull him up): "Flattery. I'm touched."
He patted Dick on the shoulder, something almost paternal in the gesture.
Slade: "You're ready, kid. Go home. Go back to your girl. Figure out what Dick Grayson wants from life. And when you figure it out—", he paused, "—make it happen. On your terms. Nobody else's."
Dick (throat tight): "Thank you. For all of this. For not giving up on me."
Slade (awkward with emotion): "Yeah, well. Don't make me regret it. Go be better than I was. That's all the thanks I need."
They stood there for a moment.
Mentor and student, villain and hero, two men who'd found something unexpected in each other.
Respect. Understanding. Hope.
Finally, Slade stepped back.
Slade: "Get out of here. She's waiting for you."
Dick (already moving toward the door): "Same time next month? For a check-in?"
Slade (surprised): "You want to keep training?"
Dick (pausing at the door, looking back): "You said it yourself, this isn't about making me your successor. It's about making me better. And I can always be better. So yeah. Monthly check-ins. Keep me sharp. Keep me honest."
Slade (something bright in that single eye): "Monthly check-ins. I can do that."
Dick (grinning): "Besides, someone needs to make sure you don't go completely villain. Might as well be me."
Slade (laughing): "Get the hell out of here before I change my mind and make you run the course one more time."
At the door, Wintergreen was waiting for him with a look of satisfaction on his face.
Wintergreen: “Good work, lad. You did good.”
Dick: “I’ll miss you too y’know, you old coot.”
Wintergreen (waving him off): “Save me the sentiments, kid. Your stuff’s been packed.”
Dick: “You sound sure that I’d win?”
Wintergreen (shrugging): “50/50, you gave Slade a run for his money. But when I saw you pin him in that lock? I knew it was done and dusted.”
Slade (calling from the training hall): “Get him outta here before I change my mind, Wintergreen!”
Wintergreen (laughing to himself): “You heard the bastard, let’s go.”
One final goodbye before Dick left, pack slung over his shoulder, new escrima sticks at his back, serum humming in his veins.
Six months.
Survived.
Changed.
Better.
And now, finally, going home.
To Zatanna. To himself. To whatever came next.
Dick Grayson pulled out his phone and sent a text:
(Dick:) “I'm coming home, Wintergreen’s taking me to the airport. Tonight. I love you.”
The response came almost immediately:
(Zee ❤️): “I'll be waiting. Always. I love you too. Come home safe.”
Dick smiled, pocketed his phone, and started walking toward the extraction point.
Behind him, Slade Wilson watched from the window, something almost like pride warming the cold place where his heart used to be.
“Good kid. Gonna do great things.”
“As long as he doesn't fuck it up.”
Slade turned back to his empty compound and started planning his next move.
Wintergreen offered to give the kid a ride, and after all, even mercenaries needed something to do.
And keeping an eye on Dick Grayson? Making sure the kid didn't backslide, didn't lose himself, didn't become another tragedy? It seemed like a worthy project.
“For however long I've got left.”
Slade poured himself a drink and toasted the empty room.
"To second chances. And the stubborn bastards who take them."
He drank deeply and smiled.
[Two Days Later - Zatanna’s Apartment]
The apartment was clean. Fresh sheets on the bed. His favorite foods in the fridge. Candles lit. Music playing softly.
Zatanna had spent the entire day preparing, nervous energy making her magic spark and flare unpredictably.
“He's coming home. He's really coming home.”
She'd changed outfits three times before settling on simple jeans and one of his shirts, the one he'd left behind that still smelled like him.
Now she sat on the couch, tea cooling on the table, watching the balcony door.
Waiting.
The minutes crawled by like hours.
And then, movement in the darkness outside.
A figure landing on the balcony with perfect silence.
The door opened.
And Dick Grayson stepped through.
He looked different. Leaner. Harder. More defined. There was a confidence in his movements that hadn't been there before, a sureness that came from finally knowing exactly who he was.
But his eyes, his eyes were the same. Full of love and relief and home.
Zatanna (standing, voice breaking): "Dick."
Dick (dropping his pack, moving toward her): "Zee."
They met in the middle, crashing together like waves, like gravity, like everything that mattered.
The kiss was desperate, tender, and perfect, six months of separation and longing and love poured into one moment.
When they finally broke apart, both crying, both smiling, both whole, Dick cupped Zatanna's face.
Dick (voice thick): "I'm home."
Zatanna (laughing through tears): "Welcome back. I missed you so much."
Dick: "Missed you too. Every single day."
They kissed again, and again, making up for lost time.
And in that moment, in that apartment, surrounded by love and magic and possibility, Dick Grayson finally understood.
This was who he was meant to be.
Not Batman's protégé. Not Slade's apprentice. Not the Team leader or FBI agent or any other role.
Just Dick. Loved. Complete. Free.
Everything else would figure itself out.
But for now?
For now, he was home.
And that was more than enough.
Chapter 9: "Zatanna's Way"
Summary:
As Dick undergoes training with Slade, Zatanna forges her own way; one that involves Constantine, demon banishings, and learning more about the dark arts.
Featuring our usual drunk sorcerer, John Constantine!
Chapter Text
[Three Months Into Dick’s Training - London - The House of Mystery]
Zatanna Zatara stood outside what appeared to be an abandoned townhouse in a forgotten corner of London, rain soaking through her jacket, and seriously questioned her life choices.
The building shouldn't exist. According to city records, this address had been demolished in 1952. According to magical records, it had never existed at all.
And yet here it was, shifting and writhing at the edge of perception, existing in that space between real and not.
The House of Mystery.
Constantine's favourite drinking hole.
Zatanna took a breath, centering herself, then knocked three times, the pattern Constantine had taught her, the one that would actually get the door to open instead of eating her soul or teleporting her to Hell or any of the other delightful things magical houses did to unwelcome visitors.
The door swung open, revealing not the interior of a house but a pub; all dark wood, dim lighting, the smell of cigarette smoke, and something other.
And at the bar, nursing what was probably his fifth whiskey of the evening, sat John Constantine.
Trenchcoat. Rumpled shirt. Tie loosened. Looking like he'd been on a three-day bender even though it was only Tuesday afternoon.
He turned when he heard her enter, and that familiar shit-eating grin spread across his face.
Constantine (raising his glass): "Zatanna, luv! Right on time. Come, have a drink. We're celebrating."
Zatanna (moving to the bar, wary): "Celebrating what? The fact that you're not dead yet?"
Constantine (clutching his chest in mock hurt): "Harsh. But fair.", he gestured to the bartender—a thing that looked vaguely human if you didn't look too closely, "Get the lady whatever she wants. On my tab."
The bartender made a sound that might have been acknowledgement or might have been a threat. Hard to tell with demons.
Zatanna (sitting, keeping her guard up): "I'll have tea. Normal tea. No curses, no magical properties, no soul-binding contracts in the leaves."
The bartender produced a cup of tea that looked surprisingly normal. Zatanna checked it with a quick detection spell anyway.
“Can never be too careful with Constantine's crowd.”
Constantine (watching her check the tea, amused): "Paranoid. I like it. You're learning."
Zatanna (taking a sip, it was good tea actually): "You didn't summon me here for drinks and banter, John. What do you want?"
Constantine's expression shifted, the humor fading into something more serious.
Constantine: "Right. To business then.", he pulled out a folder, actual paper that was surprisingly mundane, and slid it across the bar, "We've got a problem. Big one. Not really apocalypse level but still a bitch to deal with."
Zatanna (opening the folder, scanning the contents): "A demon incursion in Edinburgh. Seventeen possessions in the last month. Four deaths. Local authorities think it's a serial killer.”, she looked up, "I see what you mean."
Constantine (lighting a cigarette despite the NO SMOKING sign that appeared on the wall behind him): "You're looking at the symptoms, not the disease. Those possessions? They're not random. They're coordinated. Someone's opening doors they shouldn't, weakening the barriers between our world and the nastier bits of Hell."
Zatanna (feeling cold): "Who?"
Constantine (taking a drag): "That's what we need to find out. And by 'we', I mean you and me, because everyone else with the magical chops to handle this is either dead, busy, or smart enough to stay the hell away."
Zatanna (closing the folder): "When do we leave?"
Constantine (grin returning): "Knew you'd say yes. Tomorrow morning. Pack light, bring the nasty spells, and for God's sake, wear something practical. We'll be wading through demon shit, not attending a gala."
Zatanna (standing): "I'll be ready."
She turned to leave, but Constantine's voice stopped her.
Constantine: "Zatanna."
She looked back.
Constantine (unusually serious): "This one's dangerous. More dangerous than the usual shit we deal with. You sure you want in? I can find someone else—"
Zatanna (voice firm): "I'm sure. I'm not some novice you need to protect, John. I'm a Justice League member. I can handle myself."
Constantine (studying her, then nodding): "Yeah. I believe you. Just... watch your back, alright? These things have a way of getting messy."
Zatanna: "I always do."
[Two Days Later - Edinburgh - Abandoned Warehouse]
The warehouse reeked of sulfur, death, and something worse, the kind of wrongness that made Zatanna's magical senses scream.
She and Constantine stood at the entrance, surveying the scene. Occult symbols covered every surface, drawn in what looked like blood. In the center was a summoning circle, active, pulsing with dark energy.
Constantine (low whistle): "Well, that's not good."
Zatanna (hands already glowing with purple energy): "Understatement of the century. That circle is strong. Whoever made this knew what they were doing."
Constantine (pulling out his own tools—chalk, holy water, a flask of something that probably wasn't holy water): "Right. Standard procedure. You disrupt the circle, I'll handle the nasties that come through when you do. Try not to die. Dying's bad for my insurance rates."
Zatanna (dry): "Your concern is touching."
Constantine (grin): "I'm a giver."
They moved into the warehouse and split up, Constantine circling left and Zatanna going right. The circle pulsed stronger as they approached, responding to their presence.
“It's alive. Or close enough.”
Zatanna began the counter-spell, drawing new symbols in the air with purple fire, weaving a disruption pattern that would—
The circle exploded.
Not literally, worse. It tore open, and through the breach came things. Demons. Low-level, but numerous. Claws and teeth and malevolent hunger.
Zatanna (shouting): "Dnib meht!"
Purple chains erupted from her hands, wrapping around the nearest demons, crushing them back into the breach. But more kept coming.
Constantine (firing off a banishment spell): "Zatanna! The anchor point! Find the fucking anchor point!"
Right. Every summoning circle had an anchor, the physical object that powered it. Destroy that, circle collapses.
Zatanna's eyes scanned the warehouse even as she fought off demons. There, in the corner, a small altar. On it, a book bound in human skin.
“Of course it's human skin. Why wouldn't it be human skin?”
Zatanna (to Constantine): "Cover me!"
Constantine (stepping between her and the demons): "Make it quick, luv!"
Zatanna sprinted toward the altar, hands already weaving a destruction spell. The book was screaming at her, not with sound but with magical pressure, trying to overwhelm her senses.
She pushed through, grabbed the book, and spoke the words of unmaking:
"Nrub ot hsa. Nruter ot gnihton. Enogeb!"
The book ignited in purple flames, and its screams became real, echoing through the warehouse.
The summoning circle shattered. The demons shrieked and were sucked back through the collapsing breach. The wrongness in the air dissipated like smoke.
Silence.
Zatanna dropped the book's ashes, breathing hard, magical reserves depleted.
Constantine (moving to stand beside her): "Nice work. Bit flashy for my taste, but effective."
Zatanna (giving him a look): "You're welcome."
Constantine (pulling out his flask, taking a drink, then offering it to her): "You earned it."
Zatanna (taking it, drinking and immediately regretting it as liquid fire burned down her throat): "Jesus, John! What the fuck this?"
Constantine (taking it back): "Holy water mixed with blessed whiskey. Good for the soul. Burns like hell, though."
Zatanna (coughing): "You're insane."
Constantine (grin): "You're only figuring that out now?"
They left the warehouse as sirens approached in the distance. Someone had noticed the magical discharge.
Time to disappear.
[Later - Constantine’s Flat - London]
Constantine's flat was exactly what Zatanna expected, cluttered with occult paraphernalia, smelling like cigarettes and old books, with wards so thick on the walls she could barely see straight.
They'd returned to debrief, to figure out who'd been opening those doors.
Constantine (spreading out research materials on his coffee table): "The book was part of a set. Nine volumes total. We destroyed one. That leaves eight still out there, in the hands of people who want to tear down the barriers between worlds."
Zatanna (studying the notes): "Who would be stupid enough to try that? Opening Hell's gates doesn't just threaten humans. It threatens everything. Demons included."
Constantine (lighting another cigarette): "That's the question, innit? Who benefits from apocalypse?", he paused, "Or who's crazy enough not to care?"
They worked through the night, cross-referencing demon signatures with known cultists, tracking magical disturbances across Europe.
Somewhere around 3 AM, Constantine leaned back and studied her.
Constantine: "You're good at this. Better than most. You been practicing?"
Zatanna (not looking up from the grimoire she was translating): "Here and there. My dad taught me the fundamentals before...", she stopped, "Before Fate took him. After that, I had to figure things out on my own. League training helped, but it's all very white magic. Very proper. Sometimes you need to get your hands dirty."
Constantine (something almost like respect): "Never really thought ol’ Gio would teach his daughter any semblance of dark magic."
Zatanna (smirking): "He didn’t, just the concepts. The rest I learned from you."
Constantine: "Really tugs on the heart strings luv. But if you must know, the last time I met him was years ago before that bastard Nabu took him. He was investigating a demon case in Newcastle. Helped me out of a tight spot.", he paused, "Before Newcastle went to hell. Literally."
Zatanna (knowing that story, everyone in the magical community knew about Newcastle): "I heard about that. You lost a little girl."
Constantine's expression shuttered, walls slamming up.
Constantine (voice flat): "Yeah. I did. Astra Logue. I fucked up a summoning, she got dragged to Hell, and I couldn't save her.", he took a long drink, "That's the lesson, luv. No matter how good you are, how powerful, how careful—you can still lose. Can still fail. Can still damn the people you're trying to protect."
Zatanna (quietly): "Is that why you do this? Keep fighting? Trying to make up for it?"
Constantine (bitter laugh): "Make up for it? Can't make up for damning a child's soul. But yeah, I keep fighting. Because if I stop, if I let the darkness win, then she suffered for nothing. And I can't—", his voice cracked slightly, "I can't let that be for nothing."
They sat in silence for a moment, the weight of shared trauma hanging between them.
Finally, Zatanna spoke.
Zatanna: "I'm doing this, learning dark magic and working with you because I need to be strong enough. Strong enough to protect the people I love. Strong enough that I never lose anyone the way you lost Astra. The way I lost my dad to Fate's helmet."
Constantine (meeting her eyes): "And the boyfriend? The one you keep sneaking off to see every two weeks? This for him too?"
Zatanna (not bothering to ask how he knew, Constantine always knew): "Dick. His name is Dick. And yeah. Partially for him. But also for me. I need to know I can handle anything. Need to know that when the darkness comes—and it always comes—I'll be ready."
Constantine (studying her): "You love him. Really love him."
Zatanna (voice firm): "Yes."
Constantine (leaning forward): "Then let me give you some advice, luv. Free of charge, which is saying something.", his expression was serious, almost sad, "This work? Dark magic, demon hunting, and the nasty shit we do? It changes you. Makes you hard. Makes you see the world as threat calculations and acceptable losses. Don't let it consume you. Don't let it make you forget what you're fighting for."
He paused.
Constantine: "I lost someone once. Before Astra. Before I became this—", he gestured to himself, "I was in love. Really, properly in love. And I chose the work over her. Chose hunting demons over building a life. Told myself I was protecting her by pushing her away.", he laughed, hollow, "She died anyway. Car accident. Random. Stupid. And I never got to tell her I was sorry. Never got to choose her."
Zatanna (throat tight): "John—"
Constantine (shaking his head): "Don't. I'm not looking for sympathy. I'm just saying, don't make my mistakes. Love him. Choose him. Let him choose you. Because the work will always be there. Demons will always need hunting. But people? The ones worth loving? They're rare. And once you lose them, you don't get them back."
Zatanna (voice thick): "Thank you."
Constantine (uncomfortable with emotion, lightening the mood): "Right. Well. That's enough feelings for one lifetime. Let's get back to work before I do something stupid like develop a conscience."
But Zatanna saw the way he looked at her, protective, almost paternal, and understood.
Constantine was broken. Damned, probably. But he was trying, in his own fucked-up way, to make sure she didn't end up like him.
Alone. Haunted. Consumed by the work.
[Four Months Into Dick’s Training - Paris - Demon Incursion]
Zatanna stood in the ruins of a Parisian cathedral, surrounded by the corpses of lesser demons, breathing hard.
Constantine was across the sanctum, bleeding from a gash on his arm but grinning like a maniac.
Constantine (shouting over the chaos): "Not bad for a Chewsday, innit?"
Zatanna (throwing another binding spell at a demon trying to flank them): "Your definition of 'not bad' is deeply concerning!"
They'd tracked the second book here, to a cult trying to use the cathedral's sacred ground as a power source for a mass summoning.
“Idiots. Using holy ground for dark magic just pisses off both sides.”
Zatanna had spent the last hour systematically dismantling the cult's defenses, burning through her magical reserves at an alarming rate.
But she was stronger now. Months of training with Constantine, of studying the dark arts, of pushing her limits had made her more.
The final demon, a greater one that’s actually dangerous, burst through the summoning circle.
Constantine (backing up): "Uh, Zatanna? That one's above my pay grade!"
Zatanna (stepping forward, hands glowing with purple-black energy): "Then it's a good thing I'm not getting paid."
She spoke words of power, old words, dangerous words, the kind that would make her father turn in his metaphorical grave.
"Yebo em, Nomed. Dnib ruoy lliw ot enim. Evres em ro eb demusnoc!"
The demon screamed as Zatanna's will slammed into it, overwhelming its resistance, binding it to her command.
For a moment, she held a greater demon under her control.
The power was intoxicating. She could feel its strength, its knowledge, its essence at her fingertips.
“I could keep it. Use it. Become more powerful than—”
Constantine (sharp): "Zatanna! Banish it! Don't try to hold it!"
His voice cut through the temptation, snapping her back to herself.
“Right. Control is an illusion. Demons always win eventually.”
Zatanna (releasing the binding, shouting the banishment): "Nruter ot Lleh! Uoy evah on rewop ereh!"
The demon was ripped back through the breach, and the summoning circle collapsed.
Silence fell over the ruined cathedral.
Zatanna dropped to her knees, exhausted, shaking.
Constantine (moving to her side): "You alright, luv?"
Zatanna (breathing hard): "I almost kept it. Almost tried to use it."
Constantine (sitting beside her): "But you didn't. That's what matters. You recognized the temptation and chose differently.", he paused, "That's more than most manage their first time facing a greater demon."
Zatanna (looking at him): "Is it always like that? The temptation to just... take the power?"
Constantine (lighting a cigarette with shaking hands): "Every single fucking time. Dark magic's like that. Offers you everything you want, and all it costs is your soul. Bit by bit. Choice by choice.", he blew out smoke, "Trick is knowing when to stop. When to say 'this far and no further'."
Zatanna (quietly): "How do you know? Where the line is?"
Constantine (looking at her, expression serious): "You think of the people who matter. The ones you love. The ones you're fighting for. And you ask yourself, would they recognize you if you crossed this line? Would they still love you?"
Zatanna (thinking of Dick): "And if the answer is no?"
Constantine (simple): "Then you don't cross it."
[Five Month’s Into Dick’s Training - Constantine’s Flat - Late Night]
They'd just finished another case, demon possessions in Manchester, successfully resolved with only minor property damage and no casualties.
Constantine was drunk. Not falling-down drunk, but definitely past the point of good decision-making.
He leaned against the doorway of his flat, watching Zatanna gather her things to leave.
Constantine (slurring slightly): "You know, you're bloody brilliant. Beautiful too. Powerful. We'd make quite a pair, you and I."
Zatanna (not even looking up): "No."
Constantine (pushing off the doorway, moving closer): "Come on, luv. Just one drink. One night. See where it goes—"
Zatanna (turning to face him, magic flaring around her hands): "John. I'm going to say this once, so listen carefully. I am not interested. I will never be interested. I love someone. Completely. Utterly. And if you make another pass at me, drunk or sober, I will turn you into something small and invertebrate and leave you that way for a week. Are we clear?"
Constantine (hands up, sobering slightly): "Crystal. Message received.", he paused, "He's a lucky bastard. This Dick of yours."
Zatanna (softening slightly): "No. I'm the lucky one."
Constantine (waving her off): "Right. Well. Get out of here before I do something else stupid. See you next week for the Amsterdam job."
Zatanna (at the door): "Get some sleep, John. And drink water. You're going to hate yourself in the morning."
Constantine (collapsing onto his couch): "Already do, luv. Already do."
After she left, Constantine stared at the ceiling and thought about the woman he'd loved before everything went to hell.
Emma.
Dead twenty years now. Gone before he'd learned to choose love over the work.
He hoped Zatanna was smarter than he'd been.
Hoped she'd choose the boyfriend when the time came.
“Someone should get a happy ending out of this fucked-up life.”
[Six Months Into Dick’s Training - The House of Mystery]
The House had shifted to accommodate them, a war room now, filled with maps and research and the weight of impending apocalypse.
They'd found the source. The cult leader coordinating the demon incursions, weakening the barriers between worlds.
And it was worse than they'd thought.
Constantine (grim): "It's the Cult of the Cold Flame. Same bastards who've been trying to end the world since the 1600s. They've got all nine books now, which I have no idea how or why since we took down some of them. They're planning a mass summoning, every demon in Hell unleashed at once."
Zatanna (studying the ritual details): "When?"
Constantine: "Tomorrow night. Midnight. In an area of the Paris Catacombs that's been consecrated to dark powers for centuries.", he looked at her, "This is suicide, Zatanna. Even if we stop them, the magical backlash will be—"
Zatanna (cutting him off): "We're going. We're stopping them. And we're both walking out alive. Because I promised someone I'd come home, and I keep my promises."
Constantine (studying her, then nodding): "Right then. Suicide mission it is. Let me get my good coat."
[Paris Catacombs - Midnight]
The ritual was already underway when they arrived. Fifty cultists chanting in unison, the nine books arranged in a circle, reality itself tearing as Hell tried to pour through.
Constantine (pulling out every defensive charm he owned): "Standard plan. You disrupt the ritual, I keep you alive. Try not to get us both killed."
Zatanna (hands already glowing with power she'd been storing for days): "No promises."
They charged in.
The battle that followed was chaos, spells and counter-spells, demons and banishments, Constantine's desperate defense and Zatanna's overwhelming offense.
She was magnificent. More powerful than she'd ever been, channeling dark magic with precision and control, never letting it consume her, always staying on the right side of the line.
When she reached the books, she didn't destroy them.
She consumed them.
Spoke words of power that stripped the magic from the tomes and channeled it through herself, burning it clean, transforming dark into light.
It should have killed her.
Would have killed anyone else.
But Zatanna had spent six months training for exactly this, learning to channel power without being destroyed by it, to transform magic rather than just wield it.
The books burned to ash. The ritual collapsed. The demons were sucked back into Hell. The barriers repaired themselves.
And Zatanna stood in the center of it all, glowing with residual power, victorious.
Constantine (staring at her in awe): "Bloody hell. You did it. You actually did it."
Zatanna (exhausted but smiling): "We did it. Together."
Constantine (pulling her into a brief, awkward hug): "You're terrifying. I'm never pissing you off again."
Zatanna (laughing): "Smart man."
[One Week Later - Zatanna’s Apartment]
Zatanna sat on her balcony, tea cooling beside her, watching the Gotham skyline.
Six months of hunting demons with Constantine. Six months of growing stronger, more capable, more dangerous.
Six months of missing Dick with an ache that never quite faded.
But she'd done it. Had become powerful enough to face anything. To protect everyone she loved.
“For us. For him. For me.”
Her phone buzzed. Text from Constantine:
(Constantine:) “Thanks for not letting me die, luv. Same time next month if you're interested. Got a lead on a haunted manor in Scotland. Should be fun.”
Zatanna smiled and typed a response:
(Zatanna:) “Maybe. Ask me when things settle down. And John? Thanks for teaching me. For keeping me grounded. For reminding me why I do this.”
The response came quickly:
(Constantine:) “Don't get sentimental on me, Zat-Zat. Bad for my reputation. But you're welcome. You're going to do great things. Try not to end the world in the process.”
Zatanna laughed and set down her phone.
Another buzz. Different number. The one that made her heart skip.
(Dick:) “I'm coming home, Wintergreen’s taking me to the airport. Tonight. I love you.”
Zatanna's breath caught, tears pricking her eyes.
He's coming home. He's really coming home.
She typed back with shaking fingers:
(Zee ❤️): “I'll be waiting. Always. I love you too. Come home safe.”
She stood, moving back inside to prepare.
Six months apart. Six months of growing and changing and becoming more.
But now, finally, they'd be together again.
Together and stronger. Ready for whatever came next.
Zatanna Zatara smiled and started lighting candles.
“Welcome home, Dick Grayson. Let's see who we've both become.”
Chapter 10: "The Renegade"
Summary:
The birth of the Renegade.
Chapter Text
[Two Months Ago…]
[Four Months Into Training - Safehouse Armoury - Undisclosed Location]
The takedown of the meta-human trafficking ring had gone smoothly, too smoothly, Dick had thought at first. But Slade's planning had been meticulous, accounting for every variable, every contingency.
Twenty-three traffickers arrested (by local authorities who'd received anonymous tips). Forty-seven meta-humans freed. Zero casualties on either side.
Clean. Efficient. Effective.
Everything Bruce's methods aspired to be but rarely achieved.
Dick stood in the training room, cooling down from the post-mission debrief, when Wintergreen’s voice cut through his thoughts.
Wintergreen: "You’ve been doing good work, lad. Impressive."
Dick (not turning around, still running through mental post-action analysis): "I've been learning, but I’m guessing you’re not here to compliment me on my progress, are you?"
Wintergreen (slight smile): "Perceptive. Follow me, the man wants to see you."
Dick followed Wintergreen through the compound's corridors until they reached the armoury.
The room was filled with weapons and gear that would make even Batman's arsenal look modest. Everything from conventional firearms to experimental tech, organized with military precision.
But Dick's attention was drawn to the center table, where a single black box waited, beside it, Slade was waiting.
Slade (gesturing): "Open it."
Dick approached cautiously, old habits from years of surprise attacks and training traps, but his senses (more refined now and with help from months of wearing Zatanna's protection charm) detected nothing malicious.
He opened the box.
Oh.
Inside lay a combat uniform unlike anything he'd worn before.
The base was sleek tactical design, definitely Slade's handiwork, constructed from reinforced aramid fabric and Kevlar, but clearly customized. The material looked waterproof, flame-resistant, yet somehow still breathable and flexible.
Beneath the suit were armor plates: high-density steel core, armour-grade ceramic outer layer, shock-absorbing material that could probably tank a grenade blast. Plates for chest, back, shoulders, thighs, and specialized pad-like plates for elbows and knees.
The color scheme was striking, primarily black with red accents, aggressive but not gaudy. Professional. Dangerous.
And at the bottom of the box, the pièce de résistance: a mask.
A full-face mask in red and black, sharing design elements with Deathstroke's iconic look but distinctly different. The eyepieces were more angular, the overall aesthetic sharper, more modern.
This isn't just gear. This is a statement.
Dick (voice carefully controlled): "What the fuck is this?"
Slade (leaning against the doorframe): "New standard issue. Every time you'll be running with me on ops, you'll be wearing that."
Dick (turning to face him): "I thought we agreed on—"
Slade (cutting him off): "Practicality of the situation. If you're going to run around as my partner on the job, you'll need to wear something new. Orange and black are Deathstroke's colors. These—", he gestured to the suit, "—are now yours."
Dick (looking back at the uniform): "This is not Nightwing's colors either."
Slade (pushing off the doorframe, moving closer): "They're not. They're someone else's, someone other than Nightwing, but still yours.", he paused, "Right now, you can't be Batman's heir and my partner simultaneously. You need separation. A new identity for this work. Something that keeps your other life clean."
Dick (running his fingers over the mask): "Will this—", he gestured to the suit, "—need a new name too?"
Slade (considering): "Do you want it to?"
Dick paused, the weight of the question settling on him.
A new identity. A new name. A new purpose.
“Everything Bruce trained him to be versus everything Slade was teaching him to become.”
“Who is Dick Grayson when he's not trying to live up to either of their expectations?”
Dick (finally): "This isn't the first time I've gone against the establishment."
Slade (slight smile): "You've been a renegade before."
Dick (shaking his head): "A renegade is a turncoat. Renegades desert and betray their principles, allegiances, and everything they've ever known."
Slade (studying him): "Then be a different renegade. Give a new meaning to the name. Make it yours and how you want it to be. Not Batman's definition. Not mine. Yours."
Dick stared at the suit for a long moment, possibilities cascading through his mind.
Renegade.
Not a traitor. Not a villain. Just someone who refused to be bound by anyone else's rules.
Someone who made his own path.
Dick (voice quiet but firm): "A Renegade..."
Slade (nodding): "Suits you. Now try it on. We've got another job in three days, and I want to make sure everything fits properly."
[Three Days Later - Safehouse - Pre-Mission Briefing]
Dick stood in front of the mirror, adjusting the Renegade suit.
It fit perfectly, like a second skin but with none of the restrictions. The armor plates distributed weight evenly, and the mask even had an integrated HUD that displayed tactical information without obscuring his vision.
He looked dangerous. Professional. Lethal.
Not Nightwing. Not Robin. Someone new.
Wintergreen (pulling up with a tray of refreshments): “Looking sharp, lad.”
Dick (nodding at him): “Thanks, I like it.”
Wintergreen (setting the tray down): “As you should, custom made that gear is. Took me quite some time to work out the kinks.”
Dick: “You made this?”
Wintergreen (shrugging): “Slade designed it, I made it happen. Part of my job as your handler.”
Behind them, Slade was running final equipment checks—weapons, comms, extraction protocols.
Slade (not looking up from his gear): "The next job’s state espionage on behalf of the CIA. Hiring us through anonymous handlers. Mission is to infiltrate the Russian Embassy in Switzerland and obtain the latest list of names of the SVR's agents and spies working on US soil."
Dick (turning): "SVR? Russian Foreign Intelligence? We're stealing spy lists now?"
Slade (finally looking up): "Welcome to the world of international espionage, kid. Everyone spies on everyone. We're just the ones getting paid to do it quietly."
Dick (crossing his arms): "This feels different from the trafficking ring. That was helping people. This is—"
Slade (interrupting): "This is keeping American intelligence operatives from getting killed by Russian counter-intelligence. Those agents on the list? They're the ones deployed to identify and eliminate CIA assets. We steal the list, we save lives. We don't, people die.", he paused, "Sometimes helping people looks messy. Doesn't make it any less necessary."
Dick wanted to argue, wanted to find the flaw in Slade's logic.
But he couldn't.
When did the world get so complicated?
Slade moved to the weapons table and picked up two pistols—Glock 19s, standard issue, reliable—and several magazines of ammunition.
He held them out to Dick.
Dick (not taking them): "The fuck is this for?"
Slade: "Emergency use. Just in case you lose your escrima sticks."
Dick (voice hard): "We agreed on this. I don't kill."
Slade (patient): "You don't, but after that last op? I'll be damned if I go out on deployment with you and you don't have any weapons in reserve at your disposal.", he paused, "Embassy security carries live ammunition, Dick. You go in unarmed except for sticks, and you get overwhelmed? You die. I'm not explaining that to your girlfriend."
Dick: "Don't you have anything else?"
Slade (setting the guns down): "Take it or leave it."
Dick stared at the weapons, feeling the weight of the choice.
Guns. Lethal weapons. Everything Bruce taught him to avoid.
“But Slade's right. If I'm compromised, if I lose my primary weapons…”
Dick gave Slade a long, measuring look, then reached for the pistols.
The weight was familiar, Bruce had trained him in firearms identification and disarmament, even if he'd never carried them. Dick checked the magazines (full), the safeties (engaged), the action (smooth).
Professional. Automatic. Competent.
He holstered them on his tactical belt, feeling the weight settle.
“Emergency use only. That's all. Just emergency use.”
Dick (voice tight): "I shouldn't even be on this job at all. I agreed to no government destabilization."
Slade (checking his own weapons): "Is it really 'government destabilization' if we're just doing a usual espionage op? Every single intelligence agency that works for any government around the world does this thing on a regular basis. The only difference? They pay people like us to do it quietly and so that they can have plausible deniability should shit go sideways."
Dick paused, processing that.
“He's not wrong. The CIA does this. So does the SVR, FSB, MI6, Mossad, and every other intelligence agency on the planet. It's just... usually they use their own agents.”
“But hiring mercenaries gives them distance. If we're caught, we're deniable assets. Expendable.”
Dick (finally): "Let's just get this shit over with."
Slade (grin returning): "That's the spirit."
Wintergreen: “I’ll ready the transport and run the comms. Godspeed, you two, try not to die.”
[Geneva, Switzerland - Embassy of the Russian Federation - 11:47 PM]
The embassy was exactly what Dick expected, imposing architecture, heavy security, diplomatic immunity preventing local authorities from interfering.
Perfect place to hide intelligence operations.
Wintergreen (over the commlink): “Comms are up, encryption active. All channels online.”
Slade: “Keep us posted, Bishop. We’ll radio you once we’re ready for exfil.”
Wintergreen: “Copy that, Bishop out.”
Dick and Slade approached from the blind spot Slade had identified during reconnaissance—a section of the perimeter where camera coverage overlapped poorly and guard rotations created a seventeen-second window.
Seventeen seconds. More than enough.
They moved silently, efficient;y, and practiced. Over the wall, across the grounds, to the service entrance that Slade's contact had left unlocked.
Inside, the embassy was quiet. Night shift security, minimal personnel.
Dick's HUD displayed the floor plan Slade had acquired, the intelligence office was on the northeast corner of the third floor.
They moved through the corridors like ghosts, avoiding cameras, bypassing motion sensors, staying in the architectural dead zones that every building had if you knew where to look.
Dick (subvocal comms): "Two guards ahead. Patrol pattern?"
Slade (checking his tactical display): "Sixty-second rotation. Stairwell to our left. Move on my mark."
They waited, counting heartbeats, then moved around the guards' blind spots, up the stairwell, to the third floor.
The intelligence office door was locked, standard electronic keypad, nothing sophisticated.
Dick pulled out the bypass device Slade had provided, attached it to the lock, and waited while it cycled through combinations.
Five seconds. Ten. Fifteen.
*Click.*
Green light.
They entered, Dick immediately scanning for threats while Slade moved to the secure terminal.
Slade (working the keyboard): "Two minutes. Keep watch."
Dick positioned himself by the door, senses heightened, hand resting on his escrima sticks.
“This is wrong. This feels wrong.”
“But Slade's right. If we don't get this list, American agents die.”
“When did morality become this complicated?”
Behind him, Slade worked with practiced efficiency, bypassing security protocols, downloading data, covering their tracks.
Slade (checking his display): "Got it. Let's go."
They were halfway back to the service entrance when the alarm blared.
Shit.
Dick (into comms): "What happened? I thought you covered our tracks!"
Slade (running): "I did! Someone must have triggered it remotely. Move! Now!"
Wintergreen (over the comms): “You two’ve been made! Embassy security on your tail in two minutes!”
Slade: “Shit. We’re fighting our way out of this. Bishop, ready exfil!”
Wintergreen: “Copy. Bishop on the air, two minutes out.”
They sprinted through corridors as lights blazed to life around them. Security personnel poured from doorways, armed and alert.
Dick (pulling his escrima sticks): "Non-lethal only!"
Slade (firing suppressing shots that deliberately missed): "Just get us out! You heard Bishop!"
Dick engaged the first group, three security officers, all armed. His training took over, disarm, incapacitate, move. Enhanced speed and healing factor made him faster, stronger, more dangerous than he'd been as just Nightwing.
The officers went down hard but alive.
More came.
Dick and Slade fought back-to-back, moving through the embassy like a storm; brutal, efficient, unstoppable.
But there were too many.
Dick (breathing hard): "We're not making the service entrance!"
Slade (scanning for alternatives): "Third floor window! Go!"
They burst through the stairwell door, sprinted down the corridor, and Dick hit the window at full speed, armor absorbing the impact as glass shattered around him.
They fell three stories.
Dick rolled on impact (enhanced durability making it survivable), came up running, Slade right beside him.
Bullets sparked off the pavement behind them as embassy security opened fire from above.
So much for quiet.
They vaulted the perimeter wall, vanished into the Geneva night, sirens already wailing in the distance.
Wintergreen: “Where are you lads?”
Dick: “We’re out! Proceed to exfil site!”
Wintergreen: “Copy, thirty seconds out.”
[Safehouse - Outside Geneva - 2:34 AM]
Dick collapsed onto the couch, adrenaline finally fading, leaving exhaustion and guilt in its wake.
They'd gotten the intelligence. The mission was technically successful.
But it felt dirty.
Wintergreen (already walking inside with a tray of water, refreshments, and booze): “Fuck’s sake lads, almost gave me a heart attack you two.”
Slade (helping himself to a whiskey, offering one to Dick): "Not the best, but you gotta admit, not bad for the kid’s first spy job on behalf of Uncle Sam."
Wintergreen: “Definitely needs improvement.”
Dick (taking the glass but not drinking): "That was a clusterfuck."
Slade (sitting across from him): "That was Tuesday. Sometimes missions go sideways. You adapt. We got the objective, got out alive, nobody died. That's a win."
Dick (setting down the glass): "Someone triggered that alarm remotely. Someone knew we were there."
Slade (nodding): "Mhm. Which means either our client has a leak, or someone wanted us to get caught.", he paused, "Welcome to intelligence work. Everyone lies. Everyone has an agenda. Trust is currency you can't afford."
Wintergreen: “You get used to it after a while.”
Dick (running his hands over his face): "How do you two do this? Live like this? Never knowing who's playing you?"
Slade (voice softer): "Because the alternative is worse. Walking away means people die. Means the other guys win. Means everything I've built with this old fucker–”
Wintergreen: “Hey, mind your tongue, you fuck.”
Slade: “–everything we’ve survived, was for nothing.", he leaned forward, "You think Batman doesn't make these compromises? He does. He just hides them better. Calls them 'necessary sacrifices' and 'acceptable losses' and sleeps at night because he's Batman."
Dick (looking up): "That's not—"
Wintergreen (interrupting): "You know he’s right, lad. Bruce Wayne plays by his rules until his rules get people killed. Then he bends them. Breaks them, even. And tells himself it was justified. Us? At least we’re honest about what we do."
Dick wanted to argue.
Couldn't.
Because Slade and Wintergreen were right.
How many times had Bruce crossed lines "for the greater good"? How many times had the League made compromises that violated their own principles?
“When did I become the kind of person who sees the world in these shades of gray?”
Dick (quietly): "The guns. I didn't use them."
Slade (slight smile): "I know. You knocked out sixteen security personnel without firing a shot. That's why you're different from me, kid. You hold the line even when it would be easier not to."
Dick: "But I carried them. I was ready to use them if I had to."
Slade: "And that's called being prepared. Being practical. Doesn't make you a killer. Just makes you smart enough to survive."
Wintergreen: “Don’t beat yourself up, kid. You did good, there’s nothing wrong with having an insurance policy from time to time should shit hit the fan.”
They sat in silence, the weight of the night settling over them.
Finally, Slade spoke.
Slade: "You did good tonight, Renegade. Really good. You're ready for more complex work. Deeper operations. The kind that actually matter."
Dick (looking at him): "And if I say I'm not ready? If I want to go back to just taking down traffickers and slavers?"
Slade (honest): "Then we do that. This is your path, Dick. Your choice. I'm just showing you the options. What you do with them is up to you."
Dick (standing): "I need air. Need to think."
Slade (waving him off): "Go. We're clear for the next forty-eight hours. Use the time."
Dick stepped out onto the safe house balcony, Geneva spreading below him, and pulled out his phone.
Three missed messages from Zatanna. Two from Wally. One from Kaldur.
His old life, calling him back.
Dick didn't answer any of them.
Instead, he stared at his reflection in the phone's black screen—the Renegade mask pushed back, revealing his face but not erasing what he'd become.
“Who am I anymore?”
“Nightwing? Renegade? Something in between?”
He didn't have answers.
But standing there, wearing gear designed by a mercenary, carrying weapons he'd sworn never to use, fresh from a mission that saved lives by stealing secrets...
Dick Grayson realized something fundamental had changed.
He wasn't Batman's heir anymore.
Wasn't just Slade's apprentice.
He was something new.
Something dangerous.
Something free.
Renegade.
And God help him, he was starting to like it.
Dick pocketed his phone and went back inside.
Two more months of training.
Then home.
Then figuring out how to reconcile the person he'd been with the person he'd become.
One problem at a time.
[Two Weeks Later - Bi-Weekly Meeting With Zatanna - Prague Safehouse]
Dick arrived at their meeting place still wearing the Renegade gear, he'd come straight from a job in Berlin, Wintergreen had dropped him off and he hadn't had time to change.
When Zatanna opened the door and saw him in the black and red tactical suit, her eyes widened.
Zatanna (taking in the new look): "That's... different."
Dick (suddenly self-conscious): "Slade designed it. Wintergreen made it. For field work. It's—"
Zatanna (stepping closer, running her fingers over the armor plates): "It's hot. In a terrifying, 'you could probably kill me seventeen different ways' kind of hot. But still hot."
Dick (surprised laugh): "Fifty, actually. But really? That's your takeaway? Not 'why are you dressed like Deathstroke junior'?"
Zatanna (meeting his eyes): "You're not Deathstroke. You're you. And if this—", she gestured to the suit, "—is what you need to be right now, to figure out who you are, then I support it."
Dick felt something in his chest tighten with love and relief.
She gets it. She understands.
He pulled her into his arms, mask pushed back so he could kiss her properly.
Dick (against her lips): "I love you. God, I love you so much."
Zatanna (smiling): "Love you too, Renegade. Now get inside and tell me everything."
They spent the night trading stories, Zatanna's demon hunting with Constantine, Dick's intelligence work with Slade and Wintergreen, and finding common ground in the darkness they'd both chosen to embrace.
And when they finally fell asleep, tangled together on the small bed, both of them felt whole in a way they hadn't in months.
Together.
Changed.
Ready for whatever came next.
Chapter 11: "Home"
Summary:
After six months of going dark, Dick comes back home to the partner and family he's left behind.
Also, Clark freaks the fuck out whenever someone mentions Bruce's "Ancient Tibetan Monk Techniques", wherever it's said around the world.
Chapter Text
[Morning - Zatanna’s Apartment - One Week After Dick’s Return]
Sunlight streamed through the bedroom curtains, painting golden stripes across tangled sheets and bare skin.
Dick woke slowly, luxuriously, to the feeling of Zatanna's fingers tracing lazy patterns on his chest. No alarm. No emergency. No Slade's voice barking orders at 0500.
Just her.
Dick (voice rough with sleep): "Morning."
Zatanna (smiling down at him): "Morning yourself. Sleep okay?"
Dick (pulling her closer): "Better than I have in months. Actual bed. No concrete floors. No training at dawn. You naked next to me.", he pressed a kiss to her forehead, "Yeah. I slept great."
Zatanna (laughing softly): "We should probably get up. I've got a planning meeting for the tour at eleven, and you said you were going back to the FBI office today."
Dick (tightening his hold): "Or we could stay here? Naked. Horizontal. Forget the world exists for a few more hours."
Zatanna (tempted, so tempted): "Dick..."
Dick (kissing her neck): "Hmm?"
Zatanna (resolve weakening as his fingers did their magic on her wetness): "We need to—oh—we need to be responsible adults who—God, right there—who have obligations and—"
Dick (moving over her, grin wicked, making her squirm under his touch): "Obligations can wait thirty minutes."
Zatanna (wrapping her legs around him): "Just thirty?"
Dick (kissing her deeply): "Okay, forty-five."
[One Hour and Fifty Minutes Later]
They finally made it to the kitchen, Dick in sweatpants and nothing else, Zatanna in one of his old FBI Academy shirts and underwear.
Dick worked at the stove, making scrambled eggs and bacon with the kind of efficiency that came from months of military-style routine. Zatanna sat at the counter, making coffee and watching him move.
He was different. More confident in his body, more economical in his movements. The weight he'd lost during training had come back as lean muscle. New scars marked his skin, thin lines that the serum's healing factor had minimized but couldn't completely erase.
Evidence of everything he'd survived. Everything he'd become.
Zatanna (quietly): "You're staring."
Dick (not turning from the stove): "No. you're staring at me."
Zatanna (smiling): "Fair point. I'm just... memorizing. Making up for six months of not seeing you."
Dick (plating the eggs, turning to face her): "I'm not going anywhere. Not for a long time. You're stuck with me."
Zatanna (accepting the plate): "Promise?"
Dick (leaning over the counter to kiss her): "Promise."
They ate breakfast in comfortable silence, occasionally feeding each other bites, playing footsie under the counter like teenagers.
Domestic. Normal. Perfect.
After, Dick washed dishes while Zatanna dried, a routine they'd fallen into naturally, moving around each other with the ease of long practice.
Zatanna (putting away a plate): "So. FBI office today. You nervous?"
Dick (rinsing a pan): "A little. Six months is a long 'family emergency'. My boss is going to have questions."
Zatanna: "You have a cover story?"
Dick (drying his hands): "Bruce's company had a crisis. Needed me for damage control. Couldn't discuss it due to NDAs. Plausible enough. Wayne Enterprises has emergencies every other week."
Zatanna (impressed): "Slade teach you that?"
Dick (slight smile): "Among other things. He's very good at operational security."
Zatanna moved behind him, wrapping her arms around his waist, resting her cheek against his shoulder blade.
Zatanna (softly): "Are we going to talk about it? Really talk about it? About what you learned. What you did with him."
Dick (covering her hands with his): "Eventually. Yeah. But right now?" He turned in her arms. "Right now I just want to be us. Just Dick and Zatanna. No Renegade, no dark magic, no complications. Can we have that? For a little while?"
Zatanna (searching his eyes, then nodding): "Yeah. We can have that."
[FBI Field Office - Later That Day]
Special Agent Dick Grayson walked into the office for the first time in six months, expecting interrogation, suspicion, maybe even a disciplinary hearing.
Instead, he got sympathetic looks and a pile of paperwork.
Supervisor Morrison (shaking his hand): "Grayson. Good to have you back. Heard about the Wayne situation. Corporate espionage, wasn't it?"
Dick (maintaining the cover): "Something like that. Legal had me locked down tight. Couldn't discuss it."
Morrison (nodding): "Understandable. Billionaire family drama above my pay grade.", he clapped Dick's shoulder, "You look good though. Leaner, more muscle, been training?"
Dick (careful truth): "Needed something to do during downtime. Lots of PT. Kept me sane."
Morrison: "Well, it shows. Desk work for the next few weeks while you reintegrate. Nothing heavy. Ease back in."
Dick (relieved): "Appreciate it, sir."
He spent the rest of the day buried in reports and case files, his mind splitting attention between the work and the constant awareness that this—the FBI, the badge, the normalcy—was a cover.
Another identity. Another mask.
“How many can I juggle before I lose track of which one is real?”
[Zatanna’s Apartment - Evening]
Dick came home to find Zatanna on the couch, surrounded by tour schedules, venue contracts, and magical logistics.
Zatanna (not looking up): "How was it?"
Dick (collapsing next to her, pulling her into his lap): "Easier than expected. They bought the Wayne emergency story. I'm back on desk duty for a few weeks."
Zatanna (setting aside her papers, straddling him properly): "And how do you feel about that? Being back?"
Dick (hands settling on her hips): "Weird. Like I'm playing a role. Special Agent Grayson, dedicated public servant. Meanwhile, I'm thinking about the intel extraction in Geneva. The trafficking ring in Prague. The—", he stopped, "Sorry. I'm not supposed to bring work home."
Zatanna (cupping his face): "Dick. I hunt demons with Constantine and haven’t told anyone else but you about it. I work dark magic that would give the League nightmares. We're past 'bringing work home'.", she paused, "But I get it. The compartmentalization. The masks. Sometimes I feel like I'm three different people too."
Dick (pulling her closer): "Yeah?"
Zatanna (resting her forehead against his): "Zatanna the Stage Magician. Zatanna the Mistress of Magic - Justice League hero. Zatanna the dark magic practitioner who knows words that could end worlds.", she smiled sadly, "And somewhere underneath all that is just Zee. Who likes bad movies, good coffee, and you."
Dick (voice rough): "I love all your versions. Every single one."
Zatanna (kissing him softly): "Same. Even Renegade. Even the parts that scare me."
They kissed deeper, hands starting to wander, clothes becoming obstacles—
Dick (breaking the kiss): "Dinner first?"
Zatanna (pulling his shirt over his head): "Dinner later. Much later."
Dick (laughing as she pushed him back against the couch): "Yes, ma'am."
[Wayne Manor- Three Days Later - Afternoon]
Dick stood outside the Manor's front entrance, hand raised to knock, and hesitated.
“Six months. Six months of radio silence. They're going to have questions. Questions I can't answer honestly.”
But he'd promised himself he'd do this. Face Bruce. Face the family. Make peace with whatever came next.
Dick knocked.
Alfred answered within seconds, like he'd been waiting. Probably had been.
Alfred (expression carefully neutral, but warmth in his eyes): "Master Dick. Welcome home, sir."
Dick (throat tight): "Hey, Alfred. I, uh. I came to talk to Bruce. If he's available."
Alfred (stepping aside): "He's in the study. With the rest of the family. They'll be... pleased to see you."
Dick entered the Manor’s familiar halls, familiar smells, home in a way that was both comforting and suffocating.
The study doors were open. Inside, chaos.
Bruce sat behind his desk, looking exhausted. Tim perched on the window seat, now wearing a new Red Robin uniform instead of Robin’s colors. Damian, taller now, twelve years old, stood ramrod straight in the new Robin uniform, looking ready for combat.
Jason leaned against the wall, Red Hood helmet off but body language screaming defensive. Barbara was at the computer, Oracle setup running multiple screens. Stephanie and Cassandra sat together on the couch, while Duke stood near Bruce's desk. Kate Kane—Batwoman—examined a case file.
Selina Kyle draped herself over Bruce's chair, the only one looking relaxed.
Everyone looked up when Dick entered.
“Okay. Here we go.”
Dick: "Damn, you all look like shit."
The silence that followed was deafening.
Then chaos erupted.
Tim (launching himself at Dick): "You ass! Six months! No calls, no texts, just a note?!"
Dick (catching him, pulling him into a hug): "I know. I'm sorry. I had to—"
Damian (scoffing): "Had to what? Abandon your responsibilities? Very mature, Grayson."
Jason (from the wall): "Says the demon-spawn who challenged Tim to a death match his first week here."
Damian (glaring): "That was training."
Stephanie (standing): "Can we focus? Dick's here. That's what matters."
Cassandra (also standing, moving to touch Dick's arm, her way of saying, “Hello, I missed you, are you okay?”): "Different. You're different."
Dick (looking at her because Cass could read body language like poetry): "Yeah. I am. Long story."
Bruce (finally standing, moving around the desk): "Dick."
Dick (meeting his eyes): "Bruce."
They stared at each other, years of complicated history hanging between them. Mentor and student. Father and son. Allies and strangers.
Bruce (finally): "Where were you?"
Dick (prepared for this): "I needed time. Space. To figure out who I was without the mask. Without the expectations. I went away. Trained. Thought. Worked through some things."
Bruce (eyes narrowing, detective mode activated): "Where?"
Dick (meeting his gaze steadily, using everything Slade taught him about deception): "Does it matter? I'm back now. I'm here. Isn't that enough?"
Bruce studied him, looking for tells, for cracks, for lies.
Dick held steady. Slade's training made him unreadable in ways Bruce's training never had.
Finally, Bruce's expression shifted. Not satisfaction, he knew Dick was hiding something. But maybe... acceptance?
Bruce (sitting back against his desk): "The past few months have been... difficult. Jason adjusting. Damian learning not to kill everything that moves. The new additions.", he gestured to Stephanie, Cassandra, Duke, "The family's expanded. Changed. We could've used you here."
Dick (guilt twisting): "I know. And I'm sorry. But I needed to do this. For me. To figure out who Dick Grayson was when he wasn't trying to be what everyone needed."
Jason (bitter laugh): "And? Did you ‘figure it out?’"
Dick (looking at him, at his resurrected and traumatized brother): "Getting there. Still working on it."
Jason (studying him): "You look different. Move different. Like you've been training with someone who actually knows what they're doing."
Shit.
Dick (careful): "I worked with some specialists. Combat trainers. Learned some new techniques."
Jason (eyes narrowing): "What kind of ‘specialists?’"
Dick (deflecting): "The very professional kind. Bruce has his ‘ancient Tibetan monks’, I have my own."
The comment actually earned laughter from people in the room.
Steph: “I still think the monks are a cheat code.”
Tim: “They are. Bring it up to Clark and he flips.”
[Meanwhile - At The Watchtower]
J’onn: “Is Superman alright?”
Diana: “Clark? Are you okay?”
Clark (hearing the conversation in the Manor with his super hearing): “THOSE FUCKING TIBETAN MONKS!!”
Hal: “Is the Bat Family talking about Bruce’s ‘ancient Tibetan monk techniques’ again?”
Barry: “Probably, otherwise, Clark wouldn’t say ‘fuck’.”
Oliver: “I wouldn’t mind a trip to Tibet, maybe those ‘ancient Tibetan monks’ can also teach us a thing or two.
Clark (glaring at them): “DON’T. YOU. DARE!”
[Back at the Manor]
As the laughter died down and before Jason could push further, Selina spoke.
Selina (languid): "Can we save the interrogation for later? Dick's home. Alive. Apparently not in trouble with the law. That's a win in this family."
Barbara (from her station): "She's right. Dick, we're glad you're back. Questions can wait."
Dick shot her a grateful look. Barbara had always been good at reading situations, at knowing when to push and when to let things breathe.
Alfred (appearing in the doorway): "Perhaps we might continue this reunion over tea? I've prepared refreshments in the dining room."
The family migrated, tension easing slightly with the change of venue. Dick found himself sandwiched between Tim and Stephanie, with Damian glaring at him from across the table.
Damian (challenging): "Grayson. I've surpassed your Robin records. All of them. I'm better."
Dick (smiling despite himself): "Good. You should be. That's how it works. Each Robin is supposed to be better than the last."
Damian (thrown by the easy acceptance): "You're not... angry?"
Dick: "Why would I be angry? Damian, being Robin isn't a competition. It's a responsibility. If you're better than I was, that means you're safer. Means you'll survive longer. That's all I need to hear."
Damian looked at him with something like confusion. Like he'd expected jealousy, resentment, the emotions Ra's and Talia had taught him were normal.
Not pride.
Tim (quietly, to Dick): "You really are different."
Dick (equally quiet): "Yeah. I am. Is that bad?"
Tim (considering, then nodding): "No, uh… It's okay. As long as you're happy."
Dick (throat tight): "I'm getting there."
[Later - Dick and Bruce in the Bat Cave]
After tea, Bruce had pulled Dick down to the Bat Cave, ostensibly to show him upgrades but really to talk.
They stood in front of the Bat Computer, Robin suits displayed behind them. Three of them now. Dick's. Jason's. Tim's. Damian's would join them eventually.
A legacy. Or a graveyard. Depending on perspective.
Bruce (not looking at him): "I tried to track you. Find where you'd gone. Zatanna wouldn't say where you were and every lead I had went cold. Like you'd vanished."
Dick (careful): "I was careful. Didn't want to be found."
Bruce (finally turning): "Why? What were you running from?"
Dick (honest): "Not running from. Running to. To answers. To understanding. To figuring out who I am."
Bruce (quiet): "And did you? Figure it out?"
Dick (meeting his eyes): "I'm not your soldier anymore, Bruce. I'm not the Robin you trained. I'm not even the Nightwing you knew. I'm something else now. Something different. And I’m asking if you would be okay with that."
Bruce stared at him for a long moment.
Bruce (finally): "I don't know if I can be."
Dick (nodding): "I know. And I'm not asking for permission. I'm asking for acceptance. You don't have to understand. You don't have to approve. Just... accept that I'm making my own choices now. On my own terms."
Bruce (jaw working): "Even if those choices put you in danger? Put others in danger?"
Dick (firm): "I'm not hurting innocents, Bruce. I'm not crossing lines that matter. But I'm also not limiting myself to your lines anymore. I'm finding my own."
Bruce wanted to argue. Dick could see it in every line of his body.
But something stopped him. Maybe exhaustion. Maybe the realization that Dick was an adult now, had been for years, and couldn't be controlled anymore.
Bruce (finally): "I don't like this. Whatever you're involved in. Whoever you're working with. But you're right. You're an adult. Your choices are your own.", he paused, "Just... be careful. And if you need help—"
Dick (softening): "I'll call. I promise."
They stood in awkward silence, years of partnership and pain and complicated love hanging between them.
Finally, Bruce extended his hand.
Bruce: "Welcome home, Dick."
Dick (taking it, pulling Bruce into a brief hug): "Good to be home, Bruce."
When they pulled apart, both pretended not to notice the moisture in their eyes.
[Dining Room - Later]
Before the family made their way to the table, Alfred pulled Dick aside.
Alfred (quiet so the others couldn't hear): "I know you want to keep it close to you, Master Dick, wherever you disappeared to the past few months. All we can offer is our understanding and trust."
Dick (nodding): "Thank you, Alfred. That means a lot."
Alfred: "Will you be staying for supper, sir?"
Dick (looking around the room, at his chaotic, loving, impossible family): "Y'know what? I think I will."
Alfred (satisfied smile): "Excellent. And please, do invite Miss Zatanna with you for your next visit. It's been far too long since we've had the pleasure of her company."
Dick (light laugh): "Will do, Alfred. I'll let her know."
Alfred moved away, and Dick felt something settle in his chest.
The family gathered for an early dinner, Alfred's doing, as always. The dining room table that had once felt cavernous now seemed almost crowded with Bat Family members.
Dick sat between Barbara and Kate, watching the chaos unfold. Jason and Damian bickering. Tim trying to mediate. Stephanie and Cass communicating in their silent language. Duke looking overwhelmed but happy. Selina making sarcastic comments. Bruce looking exhausted but almost... content.
“This is my family. Broken and complicated and absolutely insane. But mine.”
As dinner wound down, Alfred approached Dick with a pot of tea.
Family. Here, with all of them despite everything.
After dinner, Dick said his goodbyes, hugs for Tim and Barbara, nods for Jason and Damian, and promises to train with Stephanie, Cass, and Duke soon.
Bruce walked him to the door.
Bruce (awkward): "Come back whenever you want. You always have a place here."
Dick (throat tight): "I know. Thanks, Bruce."
They parted ways, and Dick drove back to the apartment feeling lighter than he had in months.
Resolution. Not perfect, but real.
[Zatanna’s Apartment - Late Night]
Dick found Zatanna in bed, reading a grimoire by candlelight, wearing one of his t-shirts and nothing else.
Perfect.
Zatanna (looking up): "How'd it go?"
Dick (stripping off his jacket): "Better than expected. Bruce tried to interrogate me. Failed. Jason's suspicious but I deflected it. Damian's competitive. Tim's worried. Everyone else is just glad I'm not dead.", he climbed into bed, pulling her against him, "Alfred sends his regards, he wants you to visit next time."
Zatanna (setting aside the grimoire): "I'd like that. I miss Alfred.", she turned to face him, "And Bruce? You two okay?"
Dick (considering): "We're... getting there. He doesn't understand. Doesn't approve. But he's accepting. That's enough for now."
Zatanna (cupping his face): "I'm proud of you. For facing them. For being honest about what you can be honest about."
Dick (turning his head to kiss her palm): "Lying to them felt easier than lying to you. Is that weird?"
Zatanna (smiling): "No. That's love. They might be your family. But you’re home with me."
Dick (pulling her closer): "Yeah. I guess you’re right."
They kissed, slow, deep, claiming, and Dick felt the day's tension finally melt away.
Zatanna (breaking the kiss): "So, how do you feel? About everything, the past six months, coming home, and where we are now?"
Dick (pulling back enough to meet her eyes): "Honestly? Terrified. Hopeful. Complete.", he traced her jawline, "I spent six months learning to be someone new. Someone stronger. But coming home to you? That made it all worth it. Made me realize that no matter who I become, what identities I wear, you're my constant. My home."
Zatanna (tears pricking her eyes): "Dick..."
Dick: "I love you, Zatanna Zatara. All of you. The stage magician, the hero, the dark magic practitioner, the woman who threatens Constantine with transformation spells. I love every version. And I want to build a life with you. Whatever that looks like."
Zatanna (voice thick): "I want that too. A life. A future. With you."
Dick (wiping away her tears): "Then let's build it. Together. One day at a time."
Zatanna (pulling him down for a kiss): "Together. Always."
They made love slowly and tenderly, relearning each other, celebrating reunion, promising forever with touches and sighs and whispered words.
After, they lay tangled together, sheets pooled around their waists, skin cooling in the night air.
Zatanna (tracing patterns on his chest): "What happens now? With Slade. With Renegade."
Dick (hand in her hair): "Monthly check-ins. Training maintenance. Maybe the occasional job if it doesn't conflict with my lines. But mostly?", he kissed her forehead, "I focus on this. On us. On building something that's ours. Not Bruce's legacy. Not Slade's mission. Ours."
Zatanna (smiling against his chest): "I like the sound of that."
Dick: "Me too."
They were quiet for a moment, just breathing, just being.
Zatanna (softly): "The tour starts in three weeks. I'll be gone for a month. Maybe six weeks."
Dick (tightening his hold): "I'll miss you."
Zatanna: "Come with me? For part of it? You've got vacation time at the FBI, and Blüdhaven can survive without Nightwing for a few weeks."
Dick (considering): "Yeah. Yeah, I could do that. Where's the tour going?"
Zatanna (excited now): "London, Lisbon, Madrid, Paris, Brussels, Geneva, Berlin, Rome. All the major European cities. You could see the places, meet the people. We could have time."
Dick (grinning): "Like a working vacation?"
Zatanna (straddling him): "Exactly like that. Me performing, you playing tourist. And at night—”, she leaned down, lips brushing his ear, "—I'm all yours."
Dick (hands settling on her hips): "That sounds perfect."
Zatanna (rolling her hips): "And right now? You're all mine."
Dick (groaning): "God, yes."
They made love again, faster this time, urgent, claiming, two people celebrating life and love and the future they were building together.
After, exhausted and sated, they finally collapsed into sleep.
Dick's last thought before unconsciousness claimed him:
“Home. I'm finally home. Not the Manor. Not the Cave. Here. With her. This is home.”
And for the first time in months, maybe years? Dick Grayson slept without nightmares, without guilt, without the weight of everyone else's expectations.
Just peace.
[The Next Morning]
They woke slowly, luxuriously, to sunlight and warmth and each other.
Zatanna (voice husky with sleep): "Morning."
Dick (pulling her closer): "Morning."
Zatanna: "We should get up. I have that venue meeting, and you said you had paperwork—"
Dick (kissing her neck): "Or we could stay here. Just for a little while longer."
Zatanna (laughing): "Dick Grayson, are you trying to seduce me?"
Dick (grin wicked): "Is it working?"
Zatanna (already pulling him over her): "You bet your ass it is."
They made love in the morning light, slow and sweet and perfect.
And after, lying tangled together, Dick thought about the past six months.
Training with Slade. Learning dark truths about himself. Becoming Renegade. Zatanna hunting demons with Constantine. Both of them growing stronger, darker, more dangerous.
But not losing themselves. Not losing each other.
They'd walked through fire and come out together.
Stronger together. Always stronger together.
Whatever came next, League missions, demon hunts, Slade's training, Bruce's disapproval, the complicated mess that was the Bat Family? They'd face it as partners.
As equals.
Dick pressed a kiss to Zatanna's forehead and whispered:
Dick: "Thank you."
Zatanna (sleepy, confused): "For what?"
Dick: "For waiting. For understanding. For loving all the broken parts. For being my home."
Zatanna (tears pricking her eyes again): "Always, Dick. You do the same for me."
They held each other as morning turned to afternoon, the world forgotten, just two people who'd found something rare and precious and worth fighting for.
Love.
Home.
Chapter 12: "New And Improved"
Summary:
Nightwing's back in action, and he's putting the skills he learned from Slade to the test, all while trying to divert suspicion the best he can.
Chapter Text
[Zatanna’s Apartment - Morning - Two Days After Her Tour Ended]
Zatanna stumbled through the door at 7 AM, exhausted but exhilarated, dropping her bags in the entryway.
The tour had been incredible, sold-out shows, standing ovations, magical displays that had audiences convinced she could actually perform miracles (if only they knew how close to truth that was).
But six weeks away from Dick had been torture.
"Dick?", she called out, kicking off her shoes, "I'm home!"
Silence.
Then the bedroom door opened, and there he was, shirtless, sweatpants hanging low on his hips, hair mussed from sleep, looking absolutely edible.
Dick (grin spreading): "You're early. Flight wasn't supposed to land until nine."
Zatanna (already moving toward him): "Caught an earlier one. Couldn't wait."
They crashed together in the middle of the living room; desperate kisses, wandering hands, six weeks of separation combusting into need.
Dick (between kisses): "Missed you—God, missed you so much—"
Zatanna (pulling his head down): "Bedroom. Now."
They barely made it, leaving a trail of clothes from the living room to the bed.
[Three Hours Later]
They lay tangled together, thoroughly exhausted, thoroughly satisfied.
Zatanna (tracing the new scars on his chest): "You've been training. With Slade?"
Dick (running his fingers through her hair): "Monthly check-ins. Keeping sharp. Nothing major. Wintergreen keeps tabs on me too when Slade’s too busy.”, he paused, "I'm meeting the Team tomorrow. Just the original squad. Wally set it up. Said it was 'overdue'."
Zatanna (propping herself up): "How do you feel about that?"
Dick (considering): "Nervous. Excited. They're going to have questions. About where I went. What I did. Who I've become."
Zatanna: "And are you going to tell them?"
Dick (meeting her eyes): "Some of it. The parts that matter. That I needed time. That I trained. That I'm back and I'm better.", he paused, "Not about Slade. Not yet. Maybe not ever."
Zatanna (understanding): "They wouldn't understand."
Dick: "No. They wouldn't. Training with Deathstroke? Even for good reasons? The League would lose their minds. Bruce would—", he stopped, "It's easier if they don't know."
Zatanna (kissing his shoulder): "Then we keep it between us. Your secret. Our secret."
Dick (pulling her closer): "Thank you."
They lay in comfortable silence, storing up warmth and closeness for whatever came next.
[The Next Day - Mount Justice - Afternoon]
Dick stood outside the entrance to Mount Justice, hand on the bio-scanner, and hesitated.
“Seven months. Seven months since I told them I was leaving. What if they hate me? What if they can't forgive—”
The door opened.
Wally stood there, grinning like an idiot, and before Dick could speak, his best friend pulled him into a bone-crushing hug.
Wally (voice thick): "You ass! Seven months. Seven!"
Dick (hugging back just as hard): "I know. Tim said the same thing. I'm sorry. I had to—"
Wally (pulling back, punching his shoulder): "Save it. You're here now. That's what matters."
They walked into the common room together, and Dick's breath caught.
The Original Team, his Team, was all there.
Kaldur stood by the holographic display, regal and composed as always. M'gann and Conner sat on the couch, hands intertwined. Artemis leaned against the counter, arms crossed but eyes warm.
And in the center of it all, a banner: “WELCOME HOME, DICK!”
Dick (throat tight): "You guys..."
M'gann (launching herself at him, pulling him into a hug): "We missed you so much. It wasn't the same without you."
Conner (also hugging him, awkward but genuine): "Good to have you back, man."
Artemis (joining the group hug): "About time you came home, Boy Blunder."
Kaldur (waiting until the chaos settled, then extending his hand): "Welcome back, my friend. We have much to discuss."
Dick (taking it, pulling Kaldur into a hug too): "It's good to see you all. Really good."
They spent the afternoon catching up, trading stories, laughing at old memories, carefully avoiding the elephant in the room until finally, Wally couldn't take it anymore.
Wally (leaning forward): "So. Where'd you go? Like really? And don't give me the 'needed space' line. We know you, Dick. You don't just disappear for seven months without a damn good reason."
Dick (prepared for this): "I trained. Intensively. With some specialists who teach methods beyond what Bruce taught me. Combat techniques. Tactical analysis. Operational security.", he paused. "I needed to figure out who I was when I wasn't trying to be Batman's heir or the Team leader. Needed to find my path."
Kaldur (studying him): "And did you? Find your path?"
Dick (meeting his eyes): "Getting there. Still working on it. But I'm closer than I was."
Artemis: "These ‘specialists’. Anyone we know?"
Dick (careful truth): "No. People who operate outside League circles. Independent contractors. The best at what they do."
M'gann (gently, not pushing into his mind but reading body language): "And you can't tell us more than that."
Dick: "Not yet. Maybe not ever. But I promise—", he looked around at them, "—I'm not compromised. I'm not working for villains. I'm still me. Just... more."
Conner (gruff): "You look different. Move different. Like you're dangerous now."
Dick (slight smile): "I was always dangerous, Conner. I just learned to be efficient about it."
Wally (studying him): "You're not going to tell us everything, are you?"
Dick (honest): "No. I'm not. But not because I don't trust you. Because some things are... complicated. And the less you know, the safer you are."
Wally wanted to push. Dick could see it in every line of his body.
But Artemis put a hand on his arm, and Wally subsided.
Artemis (to Dick): "We trust you. Even when we don't understand. Even when you're keeping secrets. We trust you."
Dick (emotion threatening to choke him): "Thank you. That means... everything."
M'gann (changing the subject, sensing the emotional overload): "So! Zatanna said you might be up for a mission? Getting back in the field?"
Dick (grateful for the redirect): "Yeah. I'm ready. What've you got?"
[One Week Later - Mission Briefing - Watchtower]
The full Team assembled in the briefing room, not just the original six, but the whole expanded roster. Cassie, La'gaan, Gar, Jaime, Karen, Bart, Tim (as Red Robin), and even Artemis who'd come out of ‘retirement’ for this one.
Dick stood at the front with Kaldur, both of them reviewing the mission parameters on the holographic display.
Kaldur (to the assembled Team): "Our objective is straightforward. A Kobra cell has seized a LexCorp research facility in Sudan. They're holding seventeen scientists hostage and have threatened to release a biological weapon if their demands aren't met."
Dick (pulling up facility schematics): "The compound is heavily fortified. Guard towers, automated defenses, reinforced barriers. Direct assault would result in hostage casualties. We go in quiet. Three teams. Alpha Team: me, Wally, Artemis, we secure the hostages. Beta Team: Kaldur, M'gann, Conner, they neutralize the biological weapon. Gamma Team: everyone else, crowd/perimeter control and extraction."
Tim (studying the schematics): "Those defenses are serious. Military-grade. How do we bypass them?"
Dick (smile sharp): "Let me handle those."
[Sudan, LexCorp Facility - 2347 Hours]
The Team moved through the darkness like ghosts, converging on the facility from three directions.
Dick led Alpha Team, and Wally couldn't stop staring at him.
Wally (subvocal comms): "Dude. That suit. Where'd you get it?"
Dick wore his new gear, something he personally commissioned from Wintergreen after returning home. Based on the Renegade design but updated with Nightwing's blue and black color scheme, the stylized bird emblazoned across his chest plate. Reinforced armour. Tactical efficiency.
But instead of the full-face mask, he wore his traditional domino mask.
Nightwing. But evolved. Refined. Dangerous.
Dick (checking his escrima sticks): "Custom work. Had it made after getting back. The old suit was... outdated. Needed something that could keep up with my new skill set."
Artemis: "It looks intimidating. Very 'don't fuck with me'."
Dick (grin): "That's the idea."
They reached the perimeter fence. Dick pulled out a device, sleek, high-tech, definitely not standard-issue League equipment, and attached it to the security panel.
Bart (over comms, watching from Gamma Team position): "Holy shit, is that a—"
Dick (as the security system went dark): "Specially-built bypass. Learned it from a specialist. Don't ask where I got it."
The fence section deactivated. Alpha Team slipped through.
They moved through the compound with practiced efficiency, Dick leading with confidence that was new. More assertive. More certain.
Two guards ahead. Standard patrol pattern.
Dick (hand signals): I've got left. Artemis, right. Wally, backup.
They moved simultaneously, Dick working from shadow to shadow, impossibly quiet, then striking with precision that was almost surgical.
The guard went down without a sound, unconscious before he hit the ground.
Artemis's target dropped just as cleanly.
Wally (impressed): "Okay. That was smooth."
Dick (already moving): "Come on. Hostages are in the west wing. We have eight minutes before guard rotation."
They reached the holding area, reinforced door, electronic lock, and two guards inside.
Dick (pulling out another device): "Wally, when this door opens, you take the far guard. I've got near. Artemis, cover."
Wally: "Ready."
Dick attached the device, not a bypass this time, but something more sophisticated. The lock clicked open, and the door swung inward.
Wally blurred forward, taking down his target in a fraction of a second.
Dick moved like water—fluid, efficient, deadly—his enhanced speed and reflexes making the fight almost unfair.
The guard didn't stand a chance.
“When did Dick get this good?”
The hostages, seventeen terrified scientists, huddled in the corner.
Dick (switching to his 'reassuring hero' voice): "We're here to get you out. Stay quiet, stay together, follow our lead. You're safe now."
[Beta Team - Biological Weapons Storage]
Kaldur, M'gann, and Conner reached the weapon storage with minimal resistance—until they didn't.
Five Kobra operatives, heavily armed, defending the entrance.
Kaldur (water-bearers ready): "M'gann, psychic pressure. Conner, direct assault. I'll provide support."
M'gann's telepathic attack hit three operatives simultaneously, dropping them.
Conner (charging forward): "On it!"
He hit the remaining two like a freight train, sending them flying.
Inside the storage room, the biological weapon sat in a reinforced container, something nasty, virulent, designed to kill millions if released.
M'gann (working the containment field): "I've got it secured. Telekinetically stabilized. We can transport safely."
Kaldur (to all teams): "Beta Team objective complete. Weapon secured."
Dick (comms): "Copy. Alpha Team extracting hostages now. Gamma Team, prepare for exfiltration."
[Exfil Point - Fifteen Minutes Later]
The Bioship materialized, and the Team evacuated in orderly chaos, hostages loaded first then team members.
Dick was last aboard, doing final headcount, when three Kobra operatives burst from the facility, weapons raised.
Dick (not even breaking stride): "Impulse! Beetle! Cover me!"
Bart became a yellow blur, disarming two operatives in seconds.
Jaime's Blue Beetle armor deployed energy weapons, neutralizing the third.
Dick (boarding the Ship): "That's everyone. M'gann, get us out of here!"
The ship lifted off as explosions rocked the facility, secondary charges the Kobra cell had set, destroying evidence.
Inside the Ship, the Team celebrated, high-fives, congratulations, relief at a mission accomplished with zero casualties.
Wally pulled Dick aside.
Wally (quiet): "That was... like holy shit. The way you moved? The gear? The tactics? That definitely wasn’t Batman."
Dick (meeting his eyes): "No. It wasn't. It was better."
Wally (studying him): "Who trained you, Dick? Really."
Dick (honest as he could be): "Someone who understands that sometimes, Bruce's way isn't the only way. Someone who taught me to be effective without compromising who I am."
Wally (searching his face, then nodding): "Okay. Cryptic, but okay. Still, I trust you. Even when you're being you and mysterious."
Dick (clapping his shoulder): "Thanks, man. That means a lot."
[Watchtower - Post-Mission Debrief]
The Team assembled for debrief, exhausted but victorious.
Kaldur (addressing the room): "Excellent work, everyone. Zero casualties, all objectives achieved. This is what we strive for."
Batman (appearing on the main screen, because of course he was monitoring): "Agreed. Nightwing, your tactical leadership was exemplary. Welcome back to active duty."
Dick (nodding): "Thanks, B."
After the debrief, as the Team dispersed, Bart zoomed up to Dick.
Bart (excited): "Dude! That suit! It's crash! Totally crash! Where'd you get it? Can I get one? Does it come in red?"
Dick (laughing): "Custom commission, Bart. But maybe next time."
Tim approached, Red Robin uniform making him look older, more serious.
Tim (quiet): "You fought differently. More aggressive. More... efficient. That's not Bruce's style."
Dick (meeting his successor's eyes): "No. It's my style. Learned from someone who taught me that there's more than one way to be effective."
Tim (considering): "And you're not going to tell anyone who."
Dick: "Not yet. Maybe not ever. Can you live with that?"
Tim (after a pause): "Not sure, but as long as you're still you. Still the guy who taught me what it meant to be Robin."
Dick (emotion tightening his throat): "I'm still me, Tim. Just... more."
Tim (nodding): "Good. Because we need you. Damian's a nightmare, Jason's unstable, and Bruce is—", he stopped, "You know how he is, we need you."
Dick (pulling Tim into a brief hug): "I'm here. Not going anywhere. I promise."
[Mount Justice - Later]
Dick found Wally on the observation deck, staring at the ocean.
Dick (joining him): "Hey."
Wally (not turning): "Hey yourself."
They stood in comfortable silence for a moment.
Wally (finally): "I'm glad you're back. Really glad. The Team's stronger with you back. Everyone feels it."
Dick: "I'm not leading. Kaldur's—"
Wally (turning to face him): "Kaldur's the official leader, but you're the heart. You always have been. When you left, we felt it. Like something essential was missing."
Dick (throat tight): "Wally—"
Wally (continuing): "And I know you're not telling us everything. About where you went. Who you trained with. What you did. And that's okay. You're entitled to your secrets." He paused. "Just promise me one thing."
Dick: "Anything."
Wally: "Promise you won't disappear again. Not without saying goodbye. Not without letting us help. Because we're brothers, Dick. Have been since we were fourteen. And brothers don't abandon each other."
Dick (pulling Wally into a hug): "I promise. No more disappearing. No more radio silence. I'm here. I'm back. And I'm not going anywhere."
Wally (voice thick): "Good. Because I already died once. Don't make me come back from the dead twice just to kick your ass."
Dick (laughing through tears): "Deal."
They stood there, two best friends who'd survived hell and come out stronger, watching the ocean and planning the future.
Wally (finally): "It's good to have you back, man."
Dick (smiling): "It's good to be back."
[Midnight - Zatanna’s Apartment]
Dick came home to find Zatanna on the couch, reading a grimoire, wearing one of his shirts and nothing else.
Perfect.
She looked up when he entered, and her smile was bright and warm and home.
Zatanna (setting aside the book): "How'd it go?"
Dick (stripping off his gear): "Good. Really good. The Team's strong. The mission was clean. Everyone's... happy I'm back."
Zatanna (standing, moving to help him with his armor): "And how do you feel? About being back?"
Dick (considering as she worked the chest plate free): "Complete. Like I found the missing piece. I spent seven months figuring out who I am alone. Now I get to figure out who I am with them. With you."
Zatanna (smiling): "I like the sound of that."
She pulled off the last piece of armour, and Dick stood in just his underlayer—tactical compression shirt and pants.
Zatanna (running her hands over his chest): "New scars."
Dick (covering her hands): "Hazard of the job. They'll fade. The serum—"
Zatanna (interrupting, pulling him down for a kiss): "I don't care about the scars. I care about you. Coming home to me. Safe. Whole."
Dick (between kisses): "Of course. I’m always coming home to you."
They made love on the couch, urgent, claiming, celebrating, as two people who'd found each other in the darkness and refused to let go.
Afterwards, they tangled together, cooling in the night air, Dick held Zatanna close and thought about the past seven months.
Training with Slade. Becoming Renegade. Learning to be someone new.
Zatanna hunting demons with Constantine. Growing stronger. Darker. More powerful.
Both of them changing. Evolving. Becoming more.
But never losing each other. Never losing themselves.
Dick (quietly): "I love you. You know that, right?"
Zatanna (pressing closer): "I know. And I love you. All of you. Nightwing, Renegade, Dick Grayson, all of it."
Dick: "Even the parts that scare you?"
Zatanna: "Especially those parts. Because they're proof you're human. That you're real. That you're mine."
Dick (kissing her forehead): "Yours. Always yours."
They fell asleep like that, wrapped around each other, hearts beating in sync, safe in the knowledge that whatever came next, they'd face it together.
Partners. Lovers. Home.
And somewhere in the darkness, in locations scattered across the world, others moved.
Slade Wilson, monitoring his protégé's progress, satisfied with Dick's performance with Wintergreen’s silent approval.
Constantine, receiving reports of Zatanna's growing power, worried but proud.
Bruce Wayne, investigating his son's mysterious disappearance, finding nothing but dead ends.
The League, celebrating Nightwing's return, unaware of the darkness he'd embraced.
The Team, grateful for their heart's return, trusting him even when they didn't understand.
All of them circling Dick and Zatanna, two people who'd walked to the edge of darkness and come back stronger.
Together.
Always together.
And in that apartment, holding each other close, Dick Grayson and Zatanna Zatara smiled and dreamed of the future.
A future they'd build on their own terms.
No matter what it took.
No matter who stood in their way.
Together.
Forever.
Chapter 13: "When Darkness Calls"
Summary:
Dick and Zee are woken up by a call in the middle of the night, and of course it involves Constantine and demons!
Chapter Text
[Zatanna’s Apartment - 3:47 AM]
Dick jolted awake to the sound of Zatanna's phone buzzing, not the normal ringtone, but something else.
Something wrong. A discordant sound that made his enhanced senses scream danger.
Zatanna was already moving, grabbing the phone, the residual warmth of her body beside him fading quickly.
Zatanna (voice hoarse with sleep, but sharpening): "John? What—slow down. Where are you?"
Dick sat up, immediately alert, watching as Zatanna's expression shifted from confusion to concern to grim determination.
Zatanna: "How many?... Christ. Okay. Okay, I'm coming. Give me two hours—no, ninety minutes. I'll be there.", she paused, listening, "John, I'm coming. Just hold on."
She hung up, already moving toward her closet, pulling out gear Dick recognized from her demon-hunting work, practical clothes, enchanted jewelry, ingredients for emergency spells.
Dick (swinging his legs out of bed): "What happened?"
Zatanna (not stopping her preparations): "Manchester. Demon incursion. Big one. Constantine's holding them back but he's outnumbered. Needs backup."
Dick (standing, moving to his own gear): "How bad?"
Zatanna (meeting his eyes, and there was fear there): "He said 'apocalyptic'. John doesn't use that word lightly."
Dick (already pulling on tactical pants): "I'm coming with you."
Zatanna (stopping mid-motion): "Dick, no. This is different from Team missions. This is dark magic. Demons. The kind of fight that can get your soul damned just for participating."
Dick (pulling on his shirt, voice firm): "You said it yourself, we're partners. Together. Whatever comes.", he moved to her, cupping her face, "I'm back now, and I’m not letting you walk into hell alone, Zee. Not when I can help."
Zatanna (searching his eyes): "You don't have magical protections. You're not warded against possession or—"
Dick (pulling her close): "Then ward me. Right now. Whatever you need to do to keep me safe. Because I'm going."
Zatanna stared at him for a long moment, and Dick saw the moment she accepted it.
Zatanna (nodding): "Okay. But you follow my lead. You do exactly what I say. No heroics, no improvisation. This isn't the kind of fight where you can adapt on the fly. One wrong move and you're possessed, dead, or worse."
Dick (dead serious): "I understand."
Zatanna (moving to her supplies, pulling out salt, blessed water, protective charms): "Then strip. I need to ward your skin directly."
[Thirty Minutes Later]
Dick stood in the middle of the living room, shirtless, as Zatanna drew protection symbols across his chest, back, and arms with consecrated ink.
Each symbol burned slightly as it took hold, anchoring to his skin, his soul, creating barriers against demonic influence.
Zatanna (working with intense concentration): "These will protect you from possession and direct magical attack. But—", she looked up at him, "—they won't protect you from everything. If a greater demon targets you specifically, if the protections are overwhelmed... I need you to run. Promise me you'll run."
Dick (catching her hand): "Only if you run with me."
Zatanna (frustrated love in her eyes): "You're impossible."
Dick (soft smile): "You love me anyway."
Zatanna (leaning up to kiss him): "I really do. Even when you're being stupidly heroic."
She finished the last ward, whispered an activation phrase, and the symbols flared briefly before fading to invisible.
Zatanna: "There. You're protected. Now gear up. We leave in ten minutes."
Dick pulled on his Nightwing suit, the same new upgraded suit he took for a spin a few days ago.
His escrima sticks snapped into place on their holsters. A few additional weapons, holy water in spray containers, salt rounds for his backup pistol (Slade's gift, finally being put to use), and a silver knife Zatanna pressed into his hand.
Zatanna (about the knife): "Cold iron would be better, but silver will hurt most demons. Aim for eyes, throat, anything vulnerable."
Dick (testing the weight): "Got it. What about you?"
Zatanna (checking her own gear, spelled jewelry, spell components, and focus items): "I'm ready. Let's go."
[Manchester, England - Abandoned Church - 5:32 AM]
They arrived via teleportation, Zatanna's magic burning through distance like tissue paper, and materialized in an alley three blocks from Constantine's last known position.
The city was quiet. Too quiet. The kind of silence that came before very bad things.
Dick (surveying their surroundings): "Where is he?"
Zatanna (checking her magical senses): "St. Michael's Church. Three blocks north. The magical signature is...", she paled, "It's massive. Dick, there are at least thirty demons in there. Maybe more."
Dick (checking his weapons): "Can you handle thirty?"
Zatanna (grim): "I can hold them. Maybe banish half. But Constantine's weakened, I can feel it. He's been fighting for hours. If he goes down before I get there..."
Dick (taking her hand): "Then we move fast. Lead the way."
They ran through Manchester's empty streets, the pre-dawn darkness feeling heavier than it should. Oppressive. Wrong.
As they approached St. Michael's, Dick could hear it, screaming. Not human screaming. Demonic screaming. The sound of things that shouldn't exist, fighting things that shouldn't have to.
The church doors were blown open, hanging off their hinges. Inside, fires burned with purple and green flames, hellfire, not natural combustion.
And in the center of the chaos, surrounded by a circle of salt and desperately maintaining a barrier spell, was John Constantine.
He looked terrible (more than he normally did), bleeding from multiple wounds, clothes torn, face haggard with exhaustion. His hands glowed with golden light as he poured everything he had into keeping the demons at bay.
But there were too many.
Lesser demons, clawed, fanged, hungry, circled his barrier, testing it, waiting for weakness.
Constantine (seeing them, voice hoarse): "ZAT-ZAT! ABOUT BLOODY TIME! These bastards have been trying to eat me for three hours!"
Zatanna (hands already glowing with purple energy): "Hold on, John! Dick, stay behind me!"
Dick (taking position, weapons ready): "What do you need?"
Zatanna: "I'm going to break their formation. When I do, they'll scatter. Don't let them escape the church. If even one gets out into the city—"
Dick (understanding): "They'll possess civilians. Got it. None escape."
Zatanna (looking at him, love and fear and trust all mixed together): "Be careful."
Dick: "You too."
Zatanna stepped forward, raised her hands, and spoke words of power that made the air crack:
"SDNUOW NEPO! SREIRRAB KAERB! SNOMED FO LLEH, RAEH EM DNA ELBMERT!"
The demonic circle shattered.
And then all hell (literally) broke loose.
Zatanna became a storm of purple and black magic erupting from her hands, binding demons, banishing them, tearing them apart with raw power.
Constantine (dropping his barrier, pulling out a flask of holy water): "That's my girl! Show these bastards why you don't fuck with Zatanna Zatara!"
He threw the holy water, and demons screamed as it burned through their essence.
Dick moved like a shadow, the enhanced speed and reflexes from Slade's serum making him faster than the demons expected.
A lesser demon lunged at him, claws extended. Dick twisted, drove his silver knife into its eye, and it shrieked before dissolving into ash.
Dick: "Silver works!"
Zatanna (maintaining her assault): "Good! Keep them contained! I'm working on a mass banishment!"
Three more demons rushed Dick. He dropped low, swept one's legs, drove an escrima stick (charged with the residual magic from Zatanna's wards) into another's chest, and shot the third with a salt round.
“These are demons, not people. My conscience can live with this.”
Constantine (fighting back-to-back with Dick now): "You're the boyfriend! Dick, right?"
Dick (blocking a claw strike): "Yeah. Nice to finally meet you, Mr. Constantine!"
Constantine (laughing despite the chaos): "Oh, bollocks with the ‘mister’! She's mentioned you! Said you were competent! Understatement of the fucking year!"
A greater demon materialized, bigger, stronger, intelligent, and it went straight for Zatanna.
Dick (seeing it): "ZEE! BEHIND YOU!"
Zatanna (spinning, throwing up a shield): "DLEIHSBUS!"
The demon hit her shield and screamed, but it didn't dissipate. It was too strong.
Dick (not thinking, just moving): "Constantine! Cover the small ones!"
Constantine (understanding): "You're fucking crazy! But go!"
Dick ran at the greater demon, knowing this was insane, knowing he was outmatched, knowing he had to try.
The demon turned, saw him coming, and laughed—a sound like breaking glass and burning flesh.
Demon (voice like razors): "MORTAL. YOU DARE?"
Dick (not slowing): "I’ve dared a lot of things, my good man."
He threw every trick Slade taught him, feints, misdirection, exploiting blind spots, and drove his silver knife into the demon's throat.
The demon howled, ichor spraying, but it didn't die. Instead, it backhanded Dick, sending him flying across the church.
Dick hit a pew, ribs screaming, vision blurring.
Shit. That hurt.
The demon advanced, murder in its eyes.
Zatanna (voice raw with fury and power): "EVAEL MIH ENOLA!"
Purple chains erupted from the floor, wrapping around the greater demon, binding it, crushing it.
Zatanna (advancing, hands blazing with power Dick had never seen before): "I MA ANNATAZ ARATAZ. RETHGUAD FO INNAVOIG. ESIR SNOEG FO LACIGAM REWOP. UOY LLIW TON HCUOT MIH!"
The demon screamed as Zatanna poured everything she had into a banishment spell, not just sending it back to Hell, but destroying it, burning its essence from existence.
When the light faded, the demon was gone. Truly gone.
Zatanna (collapsing to her knees, completely drained): "Dick... are you..."
Dick (forcing himself up, laughing as he ignored the pain): "Holy shit that was intense."
Zatanna (hitting his chest): “You shit! Why the hell did you do that!”, before taking his lips with hers.
The remaining lesser demons, seeing their leader destroyed, fled. Not out of the church, but back to Hell, too terrified to stay.
Silence fell over St. Michael's.
Constantine (lighting a cigarette with shaking hands): "Well. That was bloody awful."
[Thirty Minutes Later - Constantine’s Flat]
Constantine had teleported them to his London flat, the one Dick remembered from Zatanna's stories. Cluttered with occult paraphernalia, smelling like cigarettes and old books.
Zatanna sat on the couch, Dick beside her, both of them exhausted. Constantine poured whiskey for all of them.
Constantine (handing out glasses): "To surviving another apocalypse. And to Dick Grayson, who's either the bravest or stupidest man I've ever met."
Dick (taking the glass): "Can't it be both?"
Constantine (laughing): "I like him already, Zat-Zat. He's got balls."
Zatanna (leaning against Dick, completely exhausted): "He's an idiot. A brave, wonderful, idiotic man who thought he could fight a greater demon with a knife."
Dick (wrapping an arm around her): "In my defense, it was a silver knife."
Constantine (sitting across from them): "How'd you move that fast? I've seen League heroes fight demons. Aliens and superpowers aside, you were faster. More efficient. That's not standard vigilante training."
Dick (meeting Constantine's knowing eyes): "I had a good teacher."
Constantine (studying him): "A teacher with military precision and combat efficiency that borders on supernatural.", he paused, "You trained with someone dangerous. Someone lethal. I'd guess Deathstroke, but that would be insane."
Zatanna (tensing): "John—"
Constantine (holding up a hand): "I'm not judging. Fuck’s sake, if I could get Slade Wilson to teach me close-quarters combat, I bloody well would. The man's a legend.", he looked at Dick, "And if he did train you, you're one of maybe five people on Earth who could've done what you did tonight."
Dick (carefully): "I don't know what you're talking about."
Constantine (smile sharp): "Sure you don't. And I'm the bloody Pope.", he took a drink, "Your secret's safe with me, mate. I'm the last person to judge anyone for making deals with devils."
Zatanna (looking at Constantine): "Thank you. For calling me. For trusting us."
Constantine (expression softening): "You're the best damn magical practitioner I've ever worked with, Zat-Zat. Maybe even more powerful than your old man now. When the world's ending, you're the first person I call.", he looked at Dick, "And now I know you've got backup. Someone who'll charge a greater demon to protect you. That's... rare."
Dick (pulling Zatanna closer): "I'd do anything for her. No questions asked."
Constantine (something almost sad in his expression): "Yeah. I believe you. Just...", he paused, "Don't lose that, alright? The world has a way of taking the people we love. Don't let it take her. And Zatanna—", he looked at her, "—don't let the darkness take him. He's a good man. Keep him that way."
Zatanna (voice thick): "I will. I promise."
They sat in comfortable silence, drinking, coming down from the adrenaline.
Finally, Constantine spoke again.
Constantine: "That thing you did. Destroying the greater demon. Not banishing—destroying. That's...", he looked at Zatanna, "That's beyond what I taught you and beyond what you should be capable of, luv. The fuck you been learning?"
Zatanna (quiet): "Everything you taught me and more. I've been studying the darker texts. The forbidden ones. Learning power that scares me."
Constantine (concerned): "How dark?"
Zatanna: "Dark enough that if the League knew, they'd label me a threat. Dark enough that I could probably sink entire continents if I wanted to.", she looked at Dick, "But I don't want that. I just want to be strong enough to protect the people I love."
Constantine (nodding slowly): "Then you're on the right path. But Zat-Zat, that kind of power? It's hungry. It'll try to consume you. You need to stay grounded. Keep something good in your life to anchor you."
Zatanna (taking Dick's hand): "I have that. I have him."
Constantine (looking between them): "Good. Then you might just survive this life after all."
[Dawn - Zatanna’s Apartment - Several Hours Later]
They returned home via teleportation, both exhausted, both aching, both alive.
Dick (collapsing onto the couch): "I hurt in places I didn't know could hurt."
Zatanna (sitting beside him, pulling his head into her lap): "You charged a greater demon. With a knife. What did you think would happen?"
Dick (looking up at her): "I thought I'd protect you. Mission accomplished."
Zatanna (tears pricking her eyes): "You could've died. That thing could've killed you, possessed you, dragged you to Hell—"
Dick (sitting up, cupping her face): "But it didn't. Because you saved me. Because we're partners. Because we save each other."
Zatanna (kissing him desperately): "Don't ever do that again. Don't ever make me watch you almost die."
Dick (between kisses): "Can't promise that. But I promise I'll always come back to you. Always."
They made love right there on the couch, desperate, claiming, celebrating survival and love and the impossible connection between them.
Afterwards, tangled together, cooling in the morning light, Zatanna spoke.
Zatanna (quietly): "Constantine knows. About Slade."
Dick: "Yeah. He guessed. But he won't tell anyone."
Zatanna: "How do you know?"
Dick: "Because Constantine understands what it means to make deals with darkness to protect the people you love. He won't judge. Won't expose me."
Zatanna (tracing patterns on his chest): "We're getting in deep, Dick. Deeper than I ever imagined. You training with Deathstroke. Me learning dark magic. Fighting demons together. This isn't... normal."
Dick (pulling her closer): "We were never normal, Zee. We're the circus orphan and the magician's daughter. We fight villains, aliens, demigods, demons, and save the world before breakfast. Normal was never an option."
Zatanna (laughing despite herself): "Fair point."
Dick: "But we're doing it together. That's what matters. You have Constantine watching your back in the magical world. I have Slade keeping me sharp in the physical world. And we have each other for everything else."
Zatanna (looking up at him): "Is this sustainable? Living like this? Keeping secrets from the League, the Team, Batman?"
Dick (honest): "I don't know. But I know I don't want to give you up. Don't want to give up who I'm becoming. So we figure it out. One day at a time."
Zatanna (voice fierce): "Together."
Dick: "Always."
They fell asleep as the sun rose, exhausted but whole, knowing that they'd crossed another line; fought demons together, blended their two worlds, become something more than just hero and magician.
Partners in every sense.
Light and dark.
Magic and skill.
Forever.
[Elsewhere - Constantine’s Flat]
Constantine sat at his window, smoking, watching London wake up.
His phone buzzed. Text from Zatanna:
(Zatanna:) “Thank you. For everything. For calling. For understanding. For not judging.”
Constantine stared at the message, then typed a response:
(Constantine:) “Keep him close, luv. He's one of the good ones. Rare as hen's teeth in our world. And tell him if he ever wants proper magical training to go with that combat skill, I know people.”
He sent it, then poured himself another drink.
“Kids these days. Fighting demons. Training with assassins. Learning dark magic. And somehow staying on the right side of the line.”
“Good for them. Someone should get a happy ending out of this fucked-up life.”
Constantine toasted the empty room.
"To Dick and Zat-Zat. May they be smarter than I was. May they choose love over duty. May they survive what's coming."
He drank deeply and smiled.
They just might make it after all.
Chapter 14: "Joint Works"
Summary:
Working with Slade was Dick's thing, working with Constantine was Zatanna's thing, simple as that.
But after Dick got involved with Constantine last time? Safe to say that Slade also had a job in mind for himself, Dick, and Zee.
Chapter Text
[Zatanna’s Apartment - 11:47 PM]
Dick and Zatanna stumbled through the door, exhausted from a joint League-Team operation that had somehow involved stopping Lex Luthor's latest scheme, a rogue Atlantean faction, and a Kobra cult.
All in one day.
Dick (kicking off his boots): "I need a shower, food, and about twelve hours of sleep. Not necessarily in that order."
Zatanna (dropping her bag): "Add 'sex' to that list and you've got my evening planned."
Dick (grin): "I like the way you think."
He moved toward the bathroom, already pulling off his shirt, when he noticed Zatanna had frozen in the doorway.
Dick (turning): "Zee? What—"
Then he saw it.
Him.
Slade Wilson sat on their couch, boots propped up on the coffee table, nursing a beer like he owned the place.
Dick (rolling his eyes, too tired for this): "Fuck's sake, Slade. We really need to change the locks."
Slade (smirking behind his beer): "You can try, kid. But that won't really stop me."
Dick (moving to the fridge, resignation in every line of his body): "I know."
Slade turned his attention to Zatanna, who stood in the doorway, hands already glowing faintly with defensive magic.
Slade (nodding respectfully): "Zatara."
Zatanna (not lowering her guard, but nodding back): "Wilson."
Dick pulled a beer from the fridge, cracked it open, and took a long drink before turning to face his mentor.
Dick (leaning against the counter): "Well, this is fun and all but I'm sure you didn't come here just to chat. And I just talked to Wintergreen yesterday, our monthly check-ins aren't until next Monday, so."
Slade (setting down his empty bottle): "I got a job lined up. Tomorrow."
Dick (tension immediately flooding his body): "Slade. We talked about this—"
Slade (holding up a hand): "Relax, kid. Still strictly following your boundaries when I need to work with you. No killing, no government destabilization, no putting you against your people.", he paused, eye tracking to Zatanna, "Besides, I wouldn't be here if I didn't need the help. From you and hers too."
Zatanna (eyes widening, pointing to herself): "Me?"
Slade (meeting her gaze steadily): "You heard me."
Dick: “Can’t Wintergreen help? You don’t need to drag Zatanna into this.”
Slade: “I would, but the old coot’s got his own work lined up, and I doubt he could help with the thing I got planned.”
Dick (moving between them, protective instinct kicking in): "You better not be planning any shit, Slade."
Slade (standing, hands visible and non-threatening): "Nothing that's unrelated to the job. I need muscle, that's you. And I need someone who can handle magical defenses, that's her.", he pulled out a tablet, calling up mission specs, “The target is a black market auction. Dealers trafficking in magical artifacts. Dangerous ones. The kind that could level cities if they fall into the wrong hands."
Zatanna (moving closer, looking at the specs): "Where?"
Slade: "Frankfurt. Tomorrow night. High-security venue. Magical wards, armed guards, some of the nastiest collectors in the underworld."
Dick (studying the intel): "And you need us because?"
Slade: "Because I can handle the physical security. But the magical defenses of that calibre?”, he looked at Zatanna, "Those require someone with your skill set. Someone who can dismantle wards without triggering alarms. Someone who understands what we're dealing with."
Zatanna (crossing her arms): "And what exactly are we dealing with?"
Slade (pulling up an artifact list): "Three items on the auction block that can't be allowed to sell. A Sumerian summoning stone that can open permanent Hell-gates. A Norse binding collar that enslaves supernatural beings. And a Egyptian death mask that drains life force from entire city blocks."
Dick (low whistle): "That's... bad."
Zatanna: "That's apocalyptic. Any of those in the wrong hands...", she looked at Slade, "Why come to us? Why not go through official channels? The League could—"
Slade (dry): "The League could spend days getting authorization, filing paperwork, and arguing jurisdictional issues while those artifacts get sold to the highest bidder. By the time they move, it's too late.", he paused, "I'm offering you a chance to stop this now. Tonight. Before innocent people die."
Dick looked at Zatanna, reading the conflict in her expression.
“This is exactly the kind of gray-area operation that would get them in trouble with the League. But Slade's right, by the time official channels worked, the artifacts would be gone.”
Dick (quietly, to Zatanna): "Your call. I'm in if you're in. But I won't ask you to cross lines you're not comfortable with."
Zatanna studied Slade for a long moment, and Dick could practically see her analytical mind working, weighing risks, evaluating motivations, and calculating odds.
Finally, she spoke.
Zatanna: "What's your stake in this? Why do you care about magical artifacts?"
Slade (respect flickering in his eye): "Smart question. My stake is that one of my former clients, a man I genuinely respected, died because someone used one of these artifacts on him. His entire family, wiped out in seconds. I don't forget debts like that.", he paused, "And I don't let weapons like this stay in circulation if I can help it."
Zatanna (to Dick): "Constantine mentioned something about an auction. Said he was tracking it but didn't have the resources to hit it properly.", She looked back at Slade, "Is this the same one?"
Slade (nodding): "Constantine's a good source. Smart bastard. But he's one man, and this job needs a team."
Zatanna (decision made): "I'm in. But I have conditions."
Slade (gesture of 'go ahead'): "Name them."
Zatanna: "No killing unless there's absolutely no other choice. The artifacts get destroyed, not sold or kept. And if I say we abort, we abort. No arguments."
Slade (considering, then nodding): "Acceptable. Dick?"
Dick paused, feeling the weight of this decision.
“Another step into Slade's world. Another operation that blurs the lines. Another secret to keep from the League.”
But he thought about those artifacts. About what would happen if they fell into the wrong hands. About the people who would die.
“Sometimes the right choice isn't the clean choice.”
Dick (meeting Slade's eye): "I'll have the Renegade suit ready."
[One Hour Later]
Slade had left after providing detailed mission briefs, floor plans, guard rotations, magical ward configurations, extraction protocols.
Now Dick and Zatanna sat at the kitchen table, studying the specs, planning their approach.
Zatanna (tracing ward patterns): "These are good. Whoever set these up knew what they were doing. I can break them, but it'll take time and concentration."
Dick (studying guard positions): "I'll keep you covered. Slade takes point on entry. I handle security. You handle magic. Clean division of work."
Zatanna (looking up): "Are we sure about this? Working with Slade on an actual operation? This is different from your training sessions."
Dick (honest): "No. I'm not sure. But I have worked with him before, and those artifacts...", he pulled up images of what the Sumerian stone could do, "Zee, this thing opened a Hell-gate in Baghdad in 2003. Killed three hundred people before it was contained. If it sells tomorrow—"
Zatanna (nodding): "I know. I know.", she reached across the table, taking his hand, "We do this. Together. But Dick? After this, we need to talk. Really talk. About where this is all going. About how long we can keep operating in this gray area before it catches up to us."
Dick (squeezing her hand): "After this. I promise."
They spent the next hour planning entry points, fallback positions, emergency extraction, magical countermeasures.
Finally, exhausted, they stumbled to bed.
Zatanna (curled against Dick): "I'm scared."
Dick (holding her close): "Me too."
Zatanna: "Not of the mission. Of what we're becoming. Of how easy it's getting to say yes to things like this."
Dick (pressing his face into her hair): "I know. But Zee? Those artifacts would kill people. Innocent people. If we can stop that, even if it means working outside official channels..."
Zatanna (quiet): "When did we become the people who make these calls? Who decide what's worth breaking the rules for?"
Dick (no answer, because he didn't have one): "I don't know. But I know I trust you. Trust us. If we're making these calls together, I have to believe we'll stay on the right side of the line."
Zatanna (turning to face him): "And if we don't? If we wake up one day and realize we've become something we shouldn't be?"
Dick (meeting her eyes): "Then we have each other to pull us back. That's what this is, Zee. You keep me honest. I keep you grounded. We're each other's conscience."
Zatanna (kissing him softly): "Promise?"
Dick: "Promise."
They made love slowly, tenderly, anchoring themselves to each other, to good, before walking into darkness tomorrow.
[The Next Evening - Frankfurt, Germany - The Auction Venue]
The venue was an old baroque palace, converted into a high-security facility. From the outside, it looked like a historical landmark. Inside, it housed some of the most dangerous black market operations in Europe.
Dick stood on a rooftop three blocks away, branding the black and red tactical gear of the Renegade suit, full-face mask, every piece of equipment Slade had provided over the months.
Not Nightwing. Someone else. Someone darker.
Zatanna stood beside him, wearing dark tactical clothing enchanted with defensive spells, her hair pulled back, expression focused.
Slade (over comms): "Radio check. Renegade, Sorceress, confirm."
Dick (subvocal): "Renegade confirms. In position."
Zatanna (also subvocal): "Sorceress confirms. I still have comments on this new codename but I digress. Magical signature’s massive, these wards are strong."
Slade (from his position on the opposite rooftop): "Then it's a good thing we brought the best. Keep your heads down, we don’t have an easy exfil without Bishop on the job. Entry in five minutes. Renegade, you're with me on physical breach. Sorceress, you handle the wards. Once we're inside, straight to the vault. Grab the artifacts, plant the charges, get out."
Dick: "Rules of engagement?"
Slade: "Your girl's conditions are in effect. Non-lethal unless there's no choice, but if someone draws down on you with lethal intent—"
Dick: "We defend ourselves. Got it."
Zatanna (pulling out ritual components): "I'm starting the ward disruption. Give me three minutes."
Dick watched as Zatanna began her work, hands weaving patterns in the air, purple energy flowing from her fingers, ancient words of power that made the air hum.
The building's wards began to shimmer, then crack.
Zatanna (strain in her voice): "Wards are fracturing. Two more minutes."
Slade (impressed): "She's good, kid. Really good."
Dick (pride in his voice): "I know."
The wards shattered like glass, invisible to normal eyes but blinding to magical senses.
Zatanna (breathing hard): "Done. You have a thirty-minute window before they self-repair."
Slade: "More than enough. Moving in. Renegade, on me."
Dick and Slade descended from their respective positions, converging on the palace's service entrance.
Slade moved with lethal efficiency, bypassing electronic locks, neutralizing cameras, creating a corridor of blind spots.
Dick followed, enhanced reflexes and Slade's training making him almost as invisible.
They reached the vault level, two guards, armed, alert.
Slade (hand signals): Your choice. Loud or quiet?
Dick (responding): Quiet.
They moved simultaneously, Dick taking the left guard with a precise strike to the pressure point Slade had taught him, Slade taking the right with similar efficiency.
Both guards dropped, unconscious, without making a sound.
Dick (over comms): "Ground floor secure. Sorceress, we need you."
Zatanna materialized from shadows, literally, using a teleportation spell Dick had seen her practice dozens of times.
Zatanna (studying the vault door): "Magical lock. Combination physical and arcane. Give me two minutes."
She worked quickly, purple energy interfacing with the ancient magic protecting the vault.
The door groaned, then swung open.
Inside, on pedestals under protective glass, sat the three artifacts.
The Sumerian stone, obsidian, covered in cuneiform, radiating wrongness.
The Norse collar, bronze and iron, inscribed with runes that seemed to writhe.
The Egyptian mask, gold and lapis lazuli, beautiful and hungry.
Zatanna (voice tight): "These are even worse than I thought. I can feel the death on them. The suffering."
Slade (pulling out a containment case): "Then let's make sure no one uses them again. We plant charges and bring down the building. Everything burns."
Dick (hesitating): "Slade. There are people in this building. Criminals, yes, but—"
Slade (meeting his eyes): "I triggered the fire alarm ten seconds ago. Everyone's evacuating as we speak. Building will be empty in two minutes. We set charges for detonation in three."
Dick (relief): "Okay. Okay, good."
They moved quickly, Zatanna casting spells to destroy the artifacts in sync for when the charges detonate, Dick and Slade planting demolition explosives at structural points.
They were ninety seconds from extraction when the security alarms blared.
Slade (cursing): "Pressure sensors on the pedestals! Move! Now!"
They ran through corridors, past evacuating personnel, and toward the exit.
A security team appeared, five armed guards, weapons raised.
Guard (shouting): "STOP! HANDS UP!"
Dick (not stopping): "Sorceress!"
Zatanna (throwing out her hand): "TEL MEHT PEELS!"
The guards collapsed into sudden, irresistible sleep.
They burst through the exit, into Frankfurt’s night, and ran.
Behind them, the building exploded, charges detonating in sequence, bringing down the baroque palace in a controlled demolition.
The artifacts, still inside the vault, exploded from the power of Zatanna’s magic; they were crushed and burned, their magical signatures winking out of existence.
They regrouped three blocks away, breathing hard, covered in dust.
Slade (grinning): "That was textbook. Well done, both of you."
Zatanna (hands on knees, exhausted): "That was insane. We could've been killed."
Slade: "But you weren't. Because you're good at this."
Dick (pulling off his mask): "The artifacts?"
Zatanna (checking her magical senses): "Gone. Destroyed. No one's using those to hurt anyone ever again."
Slade (clapping Dick on the shoulder): "Good work, Renegade. And… Sorceress—", he nodded to her, "—you're welcome on my operations anytime."
Zatanna (dry): "Let's not make it a habit."
Slade (laughing): "Fair enough.", he pulled out a burner phone, typed something, then pocketed it, "Your payment's been deposited. Split evenly three ways."
Dick (surprised): "Payment? Slade, I didn't do this for—"
Slade (cutting him off): "You did a job. You get paid. That's how this works, kid. Consider it compensation for your time.", he paused, "And Dick? You're ready. Really ready. For whatever comes next."
With that, Slade vanished into Frankfurt’s shadows, leaving Dick and Zatanna alone.
Zatanna (quietly): "We just worked a mercenary operation. With Deathstroke. And got paid for it."
Dick (also quiet): "Yeah. We did."
Zatanna: "The League would lose their minds if they found out."
Dick: "Yes. They would."
They stood in silence, the weight of what they'd done settling over them.
Finally, Zatanna took Dick's hand.
Zatanna: "We saved lives tonight. Those artifacts would've killed hundreds, maybe thousands. We did the right thing."
Dick (wanting to believe it): "Even though we did it outside official channels? Even though we worked with Slade?"
Zatanna (meeting his eyes): "Sometimes the right thing isn't the clean thing. Constantine taught me that. You're teaching me that. And I think—", She paused, "—I think we're going to have to be okay with that. With living in the gray area. Because that's where we can do the most good."
Dick (pulling her close): "When did you get so wise?"
Zatanna (laughing): "Somewhere between demon hunting and falling in love with a man who trains with assassins."
They kissed, tired, dusty, but alive.
Zatanna (against his lips): "Take me home."
Dick: "Which home? Yours or—"
Zatanna (smiling): "Ours."
[Zatanna’s Apartment - 3 AM]
They stumbled through the door, exhausted, exhilarated, alive.
Zatanna (pulling off her tactical gear): "Shower. Both of us. Now."
Dick (following her): "Yes, ma'am."
They showered together, washing away dust, grime, and the weight of what they'd done. Hands gentle, touches tender, grounding each other in good.
After, wrapped in towels, they collapsed into bed.
Dick (pulling her close): "We need to talk. About tonight. About what it means."
Zatanna (nestling against his chest): "Tomorrow. Tonight, I just want to be us. Just Dick and Zatanna. Not heroes, not operatives, just... us."
Dick (kissing her forehead): "Tomorrow. I promise."
They fell asleep tangled together, the Frankfurt operation tucked away with all their other secrets.
Another line crossed.
Another step into darkness.
But together.
Always together.
And somewhere in the night, Slade Wilson smiled.
“Good kids. They're going to change the world.”
“Or break it.”
“Either way, it'll be interesting to watch.”
Chapter 15: "Secrets And Lies"
Summary:
Bruce has been investigating this for months, Deathstroke has a new running mate and he has no information as to who it could possibly be?
At the same time, Doctor Fate (both Nabu and Giovanni's trapped consciousness) is sensing the change in Zatanna's magical signature into something... darker...
Chapter Text
[Gotham City - The Bat Cave - 4:47 AM]
Bruce Wayne sat hunched over the Bat Computer, eyes bloodshot, jaw tight with frustration. The screen displayed a patchwork of intelligence reports, surveillance footage, and intercepted communications all pointing to the same impossible conclusion.
Deathstroke has a partner.
For months, the pattern had been building. Mercenary operations with two operators instead of one. Combat footage showing techniques that were unmistakably Slade's style, but executed by someone else. Witnesses describing a figure in black and red tactical gear, moving with superhuman efficiency.
Renegade.
That's what the underworld was calling him. No real name. No confirmed identity. No biometric data. Just a ghost who appeared and disappeared like smoke.
Bruce had run every analysis. Cross-referenced every database. Even reached out to his intelligence contacts in a dozen countries.
Nothing.
Whoever this Renegade was, they were good. Good enough to evade Batman's surveillance network. Good enough to operate alongside one of the world's deadliest assassins without leaving a trace.
Too good.
The sound of footsteps on stone made Bruce look up. Selina Kyle descended the Bat Cave stairs, still in her Catwoman gear, exhaustion evident in every line of her body.
Selina (moving to stand behind his chair, hands on his shoulders): "Bruce."
Bruce (not looking away from the screen): "I've been trying to crack this for months, Selina. Deathstroke's new running mate, but I've got nothing."
Selina (hands on her hips, concern bleeding through her usual insouciance): "Bruce, you haven't slept since last night."
Bruce (rubbing his eyes): "Selina, I—"
Selina (cutting him off): "The bed's colder without you, y'know."
Bruce sighed, the sound carrying the weight of too many sleepless nights, too many unsolved cases, too many failures.
Bruce: "Fine."
Selina (smile brightening): "That's more like it. You're less grumpy, broody, and you think better after a good night's sleep."
Bruce (already starting to protest): "But—"
Selina (firm): "No buts. Only sleep. Let the kids handle Gotham for tonight. You don't have to worry about anything."
Bruce paused, war playing out across his face, the eternal struggle between duty and exhaustion.
Finally, he nodded.
Bruce: "...Okay."
Selina (triumphant): "Good. Now come on, if Alfred's still up, I'll ask for tea and crumpets."
Bruce (standing, allowing himself to be led toward the stairs): "He probably still is."
Selina (wrapping an arm around his waist): "Of course he is. The man never sleeps. I'm convinced he's actually a highly sophisticated android the real Alfred built decades ago to take care of you."
Bruce (the ghost of a smile): "Don't let him hear you say that. He'll switch your coffee to decaf."
Selina (mock horror): "That monster."
They ascended the stairs together, leaving the Bat Computer running its endless analysis, searching for a ghost who didn't want to be found.
Behind them, on one of the screens, footage played on loop: a black and red figure moving through a Frankfurt building with impossible efficiency, then vanishing into the night.
Renegade.
“Who are you?”
[Watchtower - One Week Later - Post-League Meeting]
The main conference room emptied as League members dispersed, some to monitor duties, others to their civilian lives, a few to the commissary for a well-deserved meal.
Superman and Wonder Woman lingered near the holographic display, reviewing mission parameters for an upcoming operation, when a familiar golden glow announced Doctor Fate's approach.
The Lord of Order materialized with characteristic abruptness, his presence making the air hum with barely-contained power.
Doctor Fate (voice resonating with dual tones, Nabu's ancient power and Giovanni Zatara's Italian accent bleeding through): "Superman. Wonder Woman. A moment of your time, if you will."
Clark (turning, friendly but cautious, Fate always made him nervous): "Sure, Nabu. What's up?"
Doctor Fate (hands clasped, posture rigid with concern): "I'm... I'm sensing something different with Zatanna."
Diana (immediately alert): "Different how?"
Doctor Fate (struggling for words, unusual for the usually omniscient Lord of Order): "I do not know. I cannot say for certain. But I can feel it. Her magical signature is radiating it. Something more powerful, something darker."
Clark (exchanging a glance with Diana): "Don't you think that maybe you're just a little paranoid? More than you usually are?"
Doctor Fate (stiffening): "I... I do not know."
Diana (voice gentler, understanding): "Or maybe this is Giovanni talking and not Doctor Fate."
The golden helmet tilted slightly, a very human gesture of confusion or perhaps acknowledgment.
Silence stretched.
Finally, Fate spoke again.
Doctor Fate: "Giovanni Zatara remains as my vessel, but I can assure you, he is just as concerned as I am. Perhaps more so. A father knows when his daughter walks a dangerous path."
Clark and Diana exchanged another careful look, the kind that came from years of partnership, of reading each other's micro-expressions.
Giovanni's worried about Zatanna. But is he right? Or is this just fatherly concern bleeding through Fate's cosmic awareness?
Clark (measured): "Whatever you say, Nabu."
Diana (more direct): "Why tell us this anyway? If you're concerned about Zatanna, why not approach her directly? Or speak with her friends on the Team?"
Doctor Fate went silent again, and for a moment, the golden helmet seemed almost... vulnerable.
Doctor Fate (quiet, almost sad): "Because I don't know who else I can share this with. Giovanni cannot speak to his daughter, the Helmet prevents it. I am Lord of Order, meant to be above such concerns, yet...", he paused, "I find myself troubled. And I do not know if this trouble is warranted or merely the echo of a father's love."
Diana (softening, moving closer): "Nabu. Giovanni. We'll keep an eye on Zatanna. If something's wrong, if she's in danger or walking a dark path, we'll help her. You have my word."
Clark (nodding): "Mine too. But you have to understand, Zatanna's a Justice League member now. One of our best. If she's learning new magic, growing more powerful, that's not necessarily a bad thing."
Doctor Fate (tilting his head, considering): "Perhaps. Perhaps not. Power without wisdom is destruction. Darkness without balance is corruption. Giovanni fears his daughter will lose herself. I fear the same."
Diana: "Then trust that she has people who care about her. Dick Grayson, for one. The Team. Us. If she's struggling, she won't face it alone."
Doctor Fate (something almost like relief): "Yes. Yes, you are right. She has anchors. Connections. Perhaps that will be enough."
He vanished in a flash of golden light, leaving Superman and Wonder Woman alone.
Clark (after a moment): "Do you think he's right? About Zatanna?"
Diana (considering): "I think Giovanni Zatara loves his daughter and cannot protect her from within the Helmet. And I think that fear manifests in ways Nabu cannot fully control.", she paused, "But I also think we should watch, not investigate. Zatanna deserves her privacy, but watch, and if she needs help, be ready to offer it."
Clark (nodding): "Agreed. I'll mention it to Batman. Subtly."
Diana (smile): "You? Subtle?"
Clark (grinning): "Excuse me, I contain multitudes."
[Zatanna’s Apartment - Same Evening - 7:34 PM]
Dick stumbled through the door, FBI badge still clipped to his belt, exhaustion written across every line of his body. Another long day of paperwork, witness interviews, and maintaining the cover identity that was Special Agent Grayson.
Zatanna emerged from the bedroom, fresh from her latest sold-out magic show, still wearing the stage makeup that made her eyes look enormous and mysterious.
They saw each other and smiled, the kind of smiles that came from coming home, from finding your person, from knowing you were safe.
Dick (dropping his bag): "You know what I could use right now?"
Zatanna (already moving toward him): "Shower, dinner, Netflix, and fuck?"
Dick (grin spreading): "Have I told you how much I love you?"
Zatanna (pulling him toward the bathroom): "Very. Now come on, let's get cleaned up so you can demonstrate to me just how much you love me."
Dick (following willingly): "Don't have to tell me twice."
[Two Hours Later]
They sat on the couch, freshly showered, wearing comfortable clothes, Netflix playing something neither was really watching. Takeout containers littered the coffee table, Korean food this time, Zatanna's choice.
Dick had his arm around her shoulders. Zatanna had her legs tucked under her, leaning into his warmth.
Home. Safe. Together.
But underneath the comfort, tension simmered.
Finally, Zatanna spoke.
Zatanna (quietly): "We need to talk. About Frankfurt. About what we're doing. About where this is all going."
Dick (knowing this was coming): "I know."
Zatanna (sitting up to face him): "Dick, we just worked a mercenary operation. We destroyed priceless, albeit dangerous, artifacts without authorization. We got paid for it. And we're keeping it all secret from the League, the Team, everyone."
Dick (meeting her eyes): "And if we'd gone through official channels? Those artifacts would've been in committee for days, maybe weeks. By the time the League authorized action, they'd have been sold and used. People would be dead."
Zatanna: "I know, and I agree. That's what scares me.", she paused, "When did we become the people who make these decisions? Who operate outside the system because we think we know better?"
Dick (honest): "I don't know. Somewhere between me training with Slade and you hunting demons with Constantine. Somewhere between realizing the system has limits and deciding those limits get people killed."
Zatanna (voice small): "Are we the bad guys now?"
Dick (pulling her back against him): "I don’t think so? We're the people doing what needs to be done. There's a difference."
Zatanna (wanting to believe it): "Is there?"
Dick: "I have to believe there is. Because the alternative? That we've become mercenaries and dark magic users with no moral compass? That's not who we are. We have lines. We don't kill. We don't work jobs that hurt innocents. We don't let power corrupt us."
Zatanna: "But we work with people who do kill. Who are corrupt. Slade, Wintergreen, even Constantine sometimes."
Dick: "And we keep them in check. Give them reasons to be better. Slade hasn't taken a lethal job since he started training me, did you know that? He's been doing extraction, protection, intelligence work. Non-lethal operations. Because I won't work with him otherwise."
Zatanna (surprised): "Really?"
Dick: "Really. And Constantine? You've kept him grounded. Kept him from crossing lines he can't come back from. We're not being corrupted by them. We're influencing them."
Zatanna (considering this): "So we're... what? Undercover heroes? Operating in the gray area to keep the darkness in check?"
Dick (slight smile): "Something like that. Or maybe we're just two people trying to do good in a complicated world, using every tool we have."
They sat in silence, the weight of the conversation settling around them.
Finally, Dick spoke again.
Dick (voice quiet): "Can you live with that? Lying to all the people we care about?"
Zatanna (considering carefully): "I can manage. I've covered for you when you went training with Slade and Wintergreen. And I'm sure Bruce has his own demons that he doesn't share with anybody else... And you..."
Dick (knowing where this was going): "What I planned with Kaldur, Artemis, and Wally in infiltrating the Light. I know. Zee, I'm sorry—"
Zatanna (cutting him off): "Don't. You did what you had to do. Faked Artemis's death and let the whole Team, save for Wally, think she was gone. Sent Kaldur undercover with my father as his handler. You kept secrets then because lives depended on it. Otherwise, this planet would have already been conquered by the Reach by now."
Silence stretched between them.
Zatanna (quietly): "Dick?"
Dick: "Yeah?"
Zatanna (turning to fully face him): "I can handle keeping secrets from others. Just please. No secrets between us. We've done things that no one in the Team, the League, or your Family might approve of and..."
Dick: "And?"
Zatanna (voice fierce): "...I guess I just don't want us to lie to each other. That's all I'm asking for. The world can think whatever it wants about us. The League can judge. The Team can question. But between us? Only truth."
Dick (cupping her face): "Same here. Your secrets are my secrets."
Zatanna (smiling, tears pricking her eyes): "And yours are mine."
They kissed, slow, deep, and claiming, sealing the promise with touch and breath and love.
When they broke apart, Zatanna stayed close, foreheads touching.
Zatanna (practical now): "Will jobs with Slade occur more frequently now?"
Dick (considering): "Depends. If I can tag along the next time Constantine rings you with another demon problem."
Zatanna (smirking, already shifting to straddle him): "Deal, and I think he’s beginning to expect that I bring you along more so."
Dick (already locking his lips on hers, hands sliding under her shirt): "Glad to see we're in agreement."
Zatanna (between kisses): "We should probably move this to the bedroom."
Dick (standing with her wrapped around him): "Probably."
They made it halfway there before gravity and desire won, and they ended up on the floor, laughing and touching and celebrating the choice they'd made.
Together. Always together. No matter what.
[Much Later - Their Bedroom - 2:34 AM]
They lay tangled in sheets, cooling in the night air, satisfied and exhausted.
Dick (tracing patterns on Zatanna's shoulder): "I meant what I said. No secrets between us. Not anymore."
Zatanna (pressing closer): "Good. Because I need to tell you something."
Dick (concerned): "What is it?"
Zatanna: "Doctor Fate, my father, he's noticed. The change in my magical signature. The dark magic I've been learning. I’ve heard, he's worried."
Dick (tension flooding his body): "How worried?"
Zatanna: "Worried enough that he talked to Superman and Wonder Woman in secret. Asked them to keep an eye on me."
Dick (sitting up): "Zee, if the League starts investigating—"
Zatanna (pulling him back down): "They won't. Diana and Clark are good people. They'll watch from a distance, make sure I'm okay, but they won't dig. Not without cause.", she paused, "But Dick, we need to be careful. If my father noticed, others might too. The League might start asking questions."
Dick (closing his eyes as he inhales): "Bruce is already investigating Slade's new partner. Renegade.", he laughed without humor, "It's only a matter of time before someone connects the dots."
Zatanna: "Then we make sure the dots stay scattered. We're careful. We don't take unnecessary risks. We keep our two worlds separate."
Dick (pulling her close): "For how long?"
Zatanna (honest): "I don't know. As long as we can. Until we can't anymore."
Dick: "And when the truth comes out? When everyone discovers what we've been doing?"
Zatanna (meeting his eyes): "Then we face it together. And we don't apologize for choosing to be effective over being clean. We saved a lot of lives, Dick. That's what matters."
Dick (wanting to believe it): "Yeah. Yeah, you're right."
They fell silent, holding each other, storing up warmth and safety against the storm they both knew was coming.
Secrets couldn't stay buried forever.
Eventually, the truth would surface.
And when it did, everything would change.
But for now, for tonight? They were safe in each other's arms.
Home.
Together.
Ready for whatever came next.
Chapter 16: "Closer"
Summary:
Dick and Zee have their respective hangouts with each of their friend groups, with each having varying levels of suspicion about the two.
Meanwhile, Bruce and Tim are still trying to uncover who Renegade is...
Chapter Text
[Gotham City - Sports Bar - 6:47 PM]
Dick Grayson sat in a corner booth of a deliberately unpretentious Gotham sports bar, surrounded by some of the most important people in his life, all of them nursing drinks, all of them finally relaxing.
Wally (gesturing wildly with his beer): "And then—I swear this actually happened—Bart tried to outrun a teleporter. A freaking teleporter! Dick, do you know how that even—"
Conner (dry): "It ended exactly how you'd expect. Bart ran into a wall, at Mach 2."
Kaldur (sipping his drink, the picture of Atlantean composure): "The wall sustained considerable damage."
Jason (leaning back, leather jacket creaking): "Kid's an idiot. But he's our idiot."
Tim (pushing his glasses up, looking tired but content): "Says the guy who tried to take on Killer Croc last week with just his helmet and spite?"
Jason (grinning): "It worked, didn't it?"
Dick watched them bicker and laugh, feeling something warm settle in his chest.
“Family. Chosen family. The people who know me… or think they do.”
Dick (taking a drink): "So Bart's on medical for what, a few days?"
Wally: "A week. Karen and Jaime's not letting him out of sight. It's actually kind of cute."
Conner (to Dick): "What about you? FBI keeping you busy?"
Dick (careful truth): "Paperwork mostly. Few cases here and there. Nothing exciting."
Jason (studying him with those sharp, knowing eyes): "You sure this doesn’t have anything to do with the ‘training’ you went on?."
“Fuck’s sake, Jay.”
Dick (shrugging): "Just keeping sharp. You know how it is. Can't let the bad guys get the drop on you."
Tim (also studying him, analytical): "Your fighting style's changed too. I noticed during that Kobra mission. More efficient. More... aggressive."
Dick (deflecting with humor): "Bruce's training was years ago, I've had time to develop my own style. And besides, If Bruce has his ‘ancient Tibetan monk technique’ cheat codes, then I can have some of my own."
Laughter all around.
Conner: “What the…”
Wally: “Something wrong, Conner?”
[Meanwhile - At The Watchtower]
Clark (hearing the guys’ conversation in the sports bar with his super hearing): “AGAIN WITH THOSE FUCKING TIBETAN MONKS!!”
Diana: “We really have to bring this up with Bruce.”
J’onn: “I believe we should.”
Oliver: “Before Clark gets an aneurysm or pops an artery.”
King Orin/Arthur: “I do not understand, what is it about Batman’s training that makes Superman… ‘freak the fuck out?’”
Barry (whispering to King Orin): “Trust me, you don’t wanna know.”
[Back at the Sports Bar]
Conner (shrugging): “Huh, I could’ve sworn I heard Clark screaming. Oh well.”
Kaldur (thoughtful, but not pushing): "Well, humour aside, Dick is right. We all evolve. Adapt. Become who we need to be."
The conversation shifted to Team gossip, League politics, the latest Bat Family drama (apparently Damian had challenged Steph to a fourth duel this week).
But Dick felt Jason and Tim's eyes on him occasionally. Watching. Analyzing.
They suspect something. Not what, but something.
[Meanwhile - Gotham Mall - Designer Boutique]
Zatanna stood in front of a mirror, modeling a dress while Artemis, M'gann, Raquel, and Barbara offered commentary.
Artemis (sprawled on a nearby couch): "That's gorgeous, Zee. Very 'mysterious magician who could either kiss you or curse you'."
M'gann (excited): "It brings out your eyes! And the neckline is perfect!"
Raquel (practical): "Can you fight in it? Because knowing our lives, you'll probably have to fight in it."
Barbara (wheeling closer, automated wheelchair humming softly): "I love it, but more importantly, do you love it?"
Zatanna (studying her reflection): "I do. It's just...", she paused, "Is it too much for a date night?"
Artemis (sitting up): "With Dick? That man looks at you like you hung the moon. You could wear a potato sack for fuck’s sake and he'd still think you were gorgeous."
M'gann (dreamy): "It's so romantic. You two are so in love."
Zatanna (smiling despite herself): "Yeah. We are."
Barbara (studying her): "You seem different lately. Happier. More... centered."
Zatanna (meeting her eyes in the mirror): "I am. Dick and I, we're in a really good place. We're partners. Really partners. We tell each other everything."
Raquel: "That's what you need in a relationship. Trust. Honesty. Someone who has your back no matter what."
Artemis (pointed): "Even when you're keeping secrets from everyone else?"
The boutique went quiet.
Zatanna (turning to face her): "Artemis—"
Artemis (holding up a hand): "I'm not judging. God knows I've kept my share of secrets. Faking my death, going undercover with Kaldur, that whole mess. I'm just saying—", she looked at Zatanna seriously, "—make sure the secrets you're keeping are worth it. Make sure they're not eating you alive."
Zatanna (quiet): "They're worth it. What Dick and I are doing... it's necessary. And we're handling it. Together."
M'gann (concerned): "Zee, if you need help—"
Zatanna (softening): "I know. I know you're all here for me. And I appreciate it. Really. But some things...", she paused, "Some things are just between me and Dick. I hope you can understand that."
Barbara (wheeling closer, taking Zatanna's hand): "We do. Just promise you'll be careful. Both of you. The world has a way of punishing people who try to do good in unconventional ways."
Zatanna (squeezing her hand): "I promise."
The tension broke, and they returned to shopping, trying on ridiculous outfits, laughing at terrible fashion choices, and being normal for a few hours.
But Zatanna felt the weight of Barbara's words.
"The world has a way of punishing people who try to do good in unconventional ways."
“How long before that punishment finds us?”
[Wayne Manor - Dining Room - 8:34 PM]
Alfred had insisted. Insisted with the kind of polite-but-immovable force that only Alfred Pennyworth could muster.
"The family will dine together. All of you. No excuses. No missions. No emergencies. Together."
And so they gathered, the entire impossible circus that was the Bat Family and the Original Team.
Bruce sat at the head of the table, Selina at his right. Dick and Zatanna sat together, hands occasionally finding each other under the table. Wally and Artemis bickered good-naturedly. Kaldur conversed with M'gann and Conner. Jason sat between Tim and Barbara, surprisingly not antagonizing anyone.
Damian occupied his usual spot, managing to look imperious even while eating roasted chicken. Stephanie, Cassandra, and Duke clustered together, the newest additions still finding their place in this chaotic family dynamic.
Alfred presided over everything with the satisfaction of a conductor whose orchestra was finally playing in harmony.
It was perfect. Loud. Chaotic. Full of love and laughter and the kind of found-family warmth that Dick had craved his entire life.
Zatanna (leaning close, whispering): "This is nice."
Dick (squeezing her hand): "Yeah. It really is."
Steph (from across the table): "Dick, you and Zee should really visit more often. It's been months since we had a proper family dinner."
Dick (guilt twisting): "I know. I've been... busy."
Bruce (voice neutral but pointed): "With FBI work?"
Dick (meeting his eyes, holding steady): "Among other things, yeah. You know how life works."
Selina (smoothly redirecting): "Life is always complicated, darling. That's what makes it interesting."
The conversation flowed, missions and near-misses, funny stories and shared trauma, the language of a family that fought together and bled together and somehow managed to stay together despite everything.
After dinner, people began to disperse.
Wally and Artemis were going to crash the night at Artemis' mom's place before heading back to Palo Alto. Kaldur returned to Atlantean embassy duties. M'gann and Conner left for their home. Jason vanished into the night (because of course he did). Barbara accepted a ride from Stephanie.
Dick and Zatanna were preparing to leave when Alfred intercepted them.
Alfred (with his perfect butler posture): "Master Dick. Miss Zatanna. A moment before you depart?"
Dick (immediately concerned): "Alfred? Is everything okay?"
Alfred (expression softening): "Perfectly fine, sir. I simply wished to say that it's good to see you both so happy. So content. Whatever paths you're walking, whatever choices you're making...", he paused, "I trust they are the right ones. And I hope you know that you always have a home here. Both of you."
Zatanna (throat tight): "Thank you, Alfred. That means more than you know."
Alfred (with a knowing look that made Dick wonder exactly how much the man suspected): "Indeed. Safe travels. And do visit more often. The Manor is far too quiet without you."
They left, walking to Dick's car under Gotham's perpetual overcast sky.
Zatanna (once they were out of earshot): "Does Alfred know?"
Dick (considering): "Alfred knows something. He always does. But he won't say anything unless we're in actual danger."
Zatanna: "And are we? In danger?"
Dick (looking back at the Manor, at the home he'd found after his parents died): "I hope not. But if we are, we'll face it. Together."
[The Bat Cave - 11:47 PM]
Bruce and Tim sat side by side at the Bat Computer, the Bat Cave quiet except for the sound of keys clicking and data processing.
On the main screen, intelligence reports scrolled past, all consisting or related to Deathstroke's new partner.
Renegade.
Tim (rubbing his eyes): "This doesn't make any sense. No one's this clean."
Bruce (jaw tight with frustration): "And that's what bothers me. Deathstroke has a new partner and there's nothing on him? No biometric data. No digital footprint. No witnesses who can provide detailed descriptions.", he paused, "Unless we find out something soon, we'll be ill-prepared for when—not if—the Team, the League, or the Family faces him."
Tim (pulling up another database): "I've cross-referenced every known associate of Slade's. Nothing. Checked military records, intelligence agencies, mercenary networks. Zero. It's like Renegade appeared out of thin air seven months ago."
Bruce (something nagging at him): "Seven months ago..."
Tim (looking up): "What?"
Bruce (pulling up a timeline): "Dick took his leave of absence around six to seven months ago. Came back six months later. Right when Renegade started appearing on intelligence radars."
Tim (immediately defensive): "Bruce, you can't seriously think—"
Bruce (holding up a hand): "I don't. Dick wouldn't work with Deathstroke. He wouldn't...", but even as he said it, doubt crept in, "Would he?"
Tim (firm): "No. Dick's one of the best people we all know. He wouldn't cross that line. There has to be another explanation."
Bruce (studying the timeline): "I ran recognition on Renegade. Every piece of footage, every still image. The mask covers his face, but the body type? The height, the build...", he pulled up a comparison, "It matches hundreds of possible candidates. Including—"
Tim (seeing where this was going): "Bruce. Stop. You're looking for patterns that aren't there. Dick disappeared because he needed space. He came back because he was ready. That's all."
Bruce (wanting to believe it): "You're right. I'm seeing connections that don't exist.", but he made a note anyway, “Follow up on Dick's whereabouts during absence. Discreetly”.
They worked into the night, algorithms running, databases cross-referencing, the Batcomputer's processors burning through terabytes of data.
But the results remained inconclusive.
Nothing.
No answers.
Just a ghost in black and red, operating alongside Deathstroke, and somehow staying completely invisible.
Tim (finally, exhausted): "We're not getting anywhere tonight. Let's pick this up tomorrow."
Bruce (still staring at the screen): "You go. I'll keep working."
Tim (concerned): "Bruce. Selina's waiting for you. Sleep."
Bruce (after a long pause): "...Fine. One hour. Then I'm going to bed."
Tim (knowing that meant three hours minimum): "Sure. One hour."
He left Bruce alone in the Cave, algorithms still running, searches still processing.
And on one of the smaller screens, footage played, Renegade moving through a building in Geneva, efficient and lethal and somehow familiar in a way Bruce couldn't quite articulate.
“Who are you?”
“And why do I feel like I should already know the answer?”
[Zatanna’s Apartment - 1:23 AM]
Dick and Zatanna lay in bed, exhausted but awake, staring at the ceiling.
Zatanna (quietly): "Bruce is getting closer about trying to uncover who Renegade is."
Dick (knowing she was right): "I know."
Zatanna: "What happens when he figures it out?"
Dick (honest): "I don't know. He'll be angry. Disappointed. Maybe he'll try to stop me from working with Slade anymore."
Zatanna: "And will you? Stop?"
Dick (considering carefully): "Slade's taught me things Bruce never could. Making me better. More effective. And the work we're doing? Stopping traffickers, preventing artifact sales, taking down operations the League can't touch? It matters."
Zatanna (rolling to face him): "But is it worth losing Bruce? Your family?"
Dick (meeting her eyes): "I don't want to lose them. But I also can't be who they want me to be anymore. I need to be who I am. And if they can't accept that...", he paused, “Then maybe we were never as close as I thought."
Zatanna (taking his hand): "That's heartbreaking."
Dick (bitter smile): "Welcome to the Bat Family. We specialize in heartbreak and emotional dysfunction."
Zatanna (pressing closer): "Promise me something."
Dick: "Anything."
Zatanna: "When the truth comes out, and it will, eventually, promise me we face it together? No matter what happens. No matter who turns against us. We face it together?"
Dick (pulling her close): "I promise. Together. Always together."
They fell silent, holding each other, knowing that the clock was ticking down.
Bruce was investigating.
Fate was watching.
The League was suspicious.
Eventually, the truth would surface.
And when it did, everything would change.
But for now, for tonight? They had each other.
Home.
Safe.
Together.
And that would have to be enough.
[Elsewhere - Across Various Locations]
In the Bat Cave, algorithms continued running. Data continued processing. Bruce Wayne sat alone, staring at footage of a ghost, trying to solve an impossible puzzle.
“Getting closer. Always getting closer.”
In the Watchtower, Doctor Fate stood vigil, sensing the darkness growing around his daughter, powerless to intervene, Giovanni's consciousness screaming inside the Helmet.
“My daughter. What is happening to you?”
In a London flat, Constantine poured another drink and thought about the people he’d work with, broken people trying to do good in a broken world.
“The truth always comes out you two. Always. Question is whether you can survive it or not.”
In a secure location, Slade Wilson reviewed mission parameters, satisfied with his protégé's progress, preparing for what came next.
“They're ready. They just don't know it yet.”
And in that apartment, holding each other close, Dick Grayson and Zatanna Zatara closed their eyes and tried to sleep.
Knowing that tomorrow, they'd wake up and continue walking the tightrope between light and dark, between truth and lies, between who they were and who they'd become.
Together.
Always together.
No matter what the cost.
Chapter 17: "Collision Course"
Summary:
Dick was out on another covert op with Slade, this time in Bialya, and fully paid for by the CIA and NATO Intelligence.
Things were going great, well, it would have if the Team hadn't shown up...
Chapter Text
[Bialya - Military Research Facility - 2:34 AM]
The explosion that took out the reinforced steel door echoed through the underground facility like thunder.
Dick, Renegade, dove behind a server bank, Slade already moving to cover the opposite angle. Around them, Bialyan military personnel scrambled for weapons, alarms blaring, red emergency lights painting everything in blood-colored shadows.
Dick (subvocal comms, adrenaline making his heart race): "Bishop, we've got company. Multiple hostiles converging on our position."
Wintergreen (over comms, calm as ever): "I see them on the thermal. Bialyan Army squad, standard military loadout. You've handled worse, lads."
Slade (checking his ammunition, voice dry): "He's not wrong. But I'd still prefer we wrap this up before the entire Bialyan Army shows up."
Dick moved with practiced efficiency, the months of training with Slade evident in every motion. He wasn't fighting like Nightwing anymore, fluid and acrobatic, yes, but more economical. More lethal in application even as he maintained his non-lethal commitment.
The first soldier came around the corner, rifle raised. Dick's escrima stick crackled with electrical discharge as it connected with the rifle, sending it clattering away. Follow-up strike to the temple, controlled and precise, and the soldier dropped.
Not dead. Never dead. But definitely unconscious.
Slade engaged three more simultaneously, moving like violence-incarnate. Dick had seen him fight dozens of times now, but it never stopped being impressive, and slightly terrifying how someone could be that efficient at hurting people.
Dick: "And here I thought you worked with the Light. Wouldn't Queen Bee kill you for disrupting her nuclear weapons research?"
Slade (not looking up from his work): "Technically, I'm an 'independent contractor’ that they pay. Besides, do you really think the world can live it down if Bialya develops nuclear weapons? Queen Bee's ambitions exceed her wisdom. This ends badly for everyone if it continues."
Dick (considering): "Fair enough."
Slade: "Good to hear we're in agreement. Besides, the CIA and NATO Intelligence are paying us top dollar to get this right."
Dick (following him into the server room): "I'm not here for the money—"
Slade (pulling out demolition charges): "I know. Consider it as a bonus for you. You're making more in one night working with me than you do with an FBI agent's salary for a month."
Dick (planting his own charges): "Rude. True, but rude."
They worked with practiced efficiency, explosive charges on server stacks, backup systems, data storage. Enough to destroy everything without bringing down the entire facility and killing personnel.
Dick (planting explosive charges on the nuclear centrifuges): "Charges set. Three minutes, if shit goes sideways, Bishop can activate it early remotely. We need to move."
Slade (neutralizing the last guard in his sector): "Good, let’s—"
The second explosion rocked the facility.
But this one wasn't theirs.
Dick's enhanced hearing (thank you, Slade's serum) picked up the distinctive whoosh of air displacement that meant someone was moving fast.
Very fast.
Dick (dread settling in his stomach): "Oh shit."
The smoke cleared.
And there, framed in the blown-out doorway like avenging angels, stood the Team.
His Team.
Wally in the lead, yellow and red blur already moving. Artemis with her crossbow raised. Tim (Red Robin) analyzing the room with those sharp detective's eyes. M'gann hovering, telepathic presence brushing against everyone's minds. Conner cracking his knuckles. Kaldur with his water-bearers ready.
And behind them, the Expanded Team: Cassie, La'gaan, Gar, Jaime, Karen, Bart.
All of them.
Looking directly at Dick and Slade.
Tim (voice hard, using his "leader" tone): "Deathstroke! Renegade! Step away from the equipment and surrender."
Dick felt time slow down.
"Fuck fuck fuck FUCK—"
Slade (remarkably calm, almost amused): "Well. This is awkward."
Dick's mind raced through options. Fight? His best friends? His family? The people he'd bled beside for years? Run? Leave them to think he was really working with Deathstroke without context?
Tell the truth? Unmask right here in front of everyone?
None of those options were good.
Wally (vibrating with barely-contained speed, eyes locked on Renegade): "Last chance. Hands up. Now."
Dick looked at Slade, saw the question in that single eye: “Your call, kid.”
Dick made a decision.
Dick (voice modulated by the mask, carefully neutral): "Can't do that. We've got a job to finish."
Kaldur (water-bearers glowing): "Then you leave us with no choice."
The Team moved.
Wally blurred forward, aiming for Slade. Dick intercepted, escrima sticks crackling as they barely caught Wally's momentum-fueled punch.
Wally (shocked, stumbling back): "What the—you're fast—"
Dick didn't answer, couldn't answer. Instead he pressed the advantage, fighting his best friend with techniques Slade had drilled into him. Not Nightwing's style. Not Batman's training. Something new.
Artemis's crossbow bolt whistled past Dick's head—too close, she never missed by accident—and embedded in a server behind him.
“She's testing me. Trying to figure out who I am.”
Conner came next, haymaker that could crater concrete. Dick ducked under it (enhanced reflexes making it almost easy), swept Conner's legs (impossible against his Kryptonian density, but the unexpected technique made him stumble), and hit him with a full-power electrical discharge from the escrima stick.
Conner (grunting, more surprised than hurt): "Since when does Renegade have—"
M'gann's telepathic pressure slammed into Dick's mind like a freight train.
For a moment, he felt her trying to read him, to identify him, to understand—
But Zatanna's protection wards held. The symbols she'd drawn on his skin in consecrated ink burned, but they worked. M'gann's telepathy slid off like water on glass.
M'gann (confusion bleeding through her mental voice): "I can't read him. There's something… magical protection?"
Across the lab, Slade fought with brutal efficiency. Not killing, Dick had made that condition very clear, but not pulling punches either.
Jaime's Blue Beetle armor deployed energy weapons. Slade dodged, returned fire with his own (set to stun, as agreed), and used Jaime's momentum against him to send the teen hero crashing into La'gaan.
Cassie tried a flying tackle. Slade sidestepped, redirected her into a wall (reinforced concrete, she'd be fine), and moved on.
It was like watching a master class in combat efficiency.
“This is what he's been teaching me.”, Dick realized, “How to fight multiple opponents without getting overwhelmed. How to use their own teamwork against them.”
Tim (analyzing the fight, speaking into the M’gann’s mind link): "Renegade's combat style is different. More aggressive than reported. Enhanced reflexes, possibly meta-human or chemically enhanced—"
Dick (still fighting Wally, hating every second of this): "Bishop! Please tell me we're almost done here."
Wintergreen (over comms): "Charges are active! Exfil is ready but you've got to get to the roof, lads. I can't land in this chaos."
Slade (taking down Garfield, who was forced back to human form, with a perfectly-timed nerve strike): "Renegade! Smoke!"
Dick pulled smoke grenades from his belt, courtesy of Slade's endless supply of tactical gear, and threw them. Purple smoke (Zatanna's recipe, magically enhanced to resist M'gann's telekinesis) filled the lab.
Dick (grabbing the data drive from the server, the real objective beyond just destroying the centrifuges): "Move! Cover me!"
Slade laid down suppressing fire, stun rounds keeping the Team pinned, as Dick sprinted for the emergency stairs.
Behind him, he heard Wally shouting: "They're getting away! Someone stop—"
The facility shook. Timer was up. The charges they'd planted detonated, carefully placed to destroy the nuclear program equipment but not bring down the building.
Small mercies.
Dick burst through a door, Slade right behind him, and they were climbing. Three flights. Four. Five.
Roof access.
Dick kicked the door open just as he heard the Team's footsteps on the stairs below.
So close. Too close.
The helicopter materialized from the darkness, Wintergreen at the controls, running dark until the last possible second.
Slade (grabbing the lowered rope): "Come on!"
Dick jumped, caught the rope, felt Slade catch him around the waist as the helicopter pulled up and away.
Below, the Team burst onto the roof. Dick saw them clearly in the pre-dawn light:
Wally, vibrating with frustration. Artemis, crossbow tracking them but not firing (couldn't make that shot, moving too fast). Tim, recording everything with his cowl's cameras. M'gann, trying one more telepathic assault that slid off Zatanna's wards. Conner, looking like he wanted to throw something very heavy at them.
Kaldur, standing calm and composed, but Dick could see the tension in his shoulders.
"I'm sorry.", Dick thought, even though they couldn't hear him, "I'm so sorry."
The helicopter banked hard, putting distance between them and the facility. As they disappeared into the Bialyan night, Dick saw the building below them: damaged but intact, nuclear program destroyed, mission accomplished.
At what cost?
[Safehouse - Outside Bialya - 4:47 AM]
The safehouse was exactly what Dick expected: nondescript, secure, stocked with supplies and exit strategies.
Dick collapsed onto a chair, mask still on, heart still racing.
Slade and Wintergreen moved through their post-mission routine with practiced efficiency: equipment check, wounds assessed (minor), debrief preparation.
Wintergreen (offering Dick a water bottle): "That was closer than I'd like, lads."
Slade (checking his weapons): "Agreed. Intelligence said the Team was handling a Kobra situation in Qurac. Someone fed us bad information."
Dick (pulling off his mask, running a hand through sweat-damp hair): "Or someone knew exactly where we'd be and sent them."
Slade and Wintergreen both looked at him.
Slade (carefully): "You think someone's onto us? Onto you?"
Dick (drinking deeply, trying to calm his racing thoughts): "I don't know. Maybe. Batman's been investigating Renegade for a while now. If he connected any dots—"
Wintergreen: "Then he'd have arrested you by now. Bruce Wayne might be emotionally constipated, but he's not cruel. If he knew his adopted son was working with Deathstroke, there'd be a conversation. A loud one."
Dick (wanting to believe that): "Maybe."
Slade (sitting across from him): "How did it feel? Fighting them?"
Dick (looking up, something raw in his expression): "Terrible. Like everything I've been doing for the past few months is wrong. Like I'm betraying people I love."
Slade (voice surprisingly gentle): "You're not betraying them. You're becoming something more than what they need you to be. Sometimes growth looks like betrayal from the outside."
Wintergreen: "Philosophical tonight, are we?"
Slade (dry): "It happens. Occasionally."
Dick laughed despite himself, the sound half-hysterical.
Dick: "I fought my best friend. My family. People I've known for years. And I—", he stopped, throat tight, "I was good at it, Slade. Better than I should've been. Your training worked. I held my own against the entire Team."
Slade (leaning forward): "And that scares you?"
Dick (meeting his eyes): "Yeah. It does. Because if I'm this good after just a few months with you, what does that say about Bruce's training? About everything I learned being Batman's partner?"
Slade: "It says you had a foundation. A damn good one. I just helped you build on it. Taught you to think beyond Bruce's limitations."
Wintergreen (pulling up mission footage on a tablet): "Speaking of which, we need to review this. See what they saw and what conclusions they might draw."
They spent the next hour analyzing the fight: Dick's combat style (too aggressive for Nightwing, too controlled for a random mercenary), his speed (enhanced beyond human normal but not obviously meta), his choices in the fight (non-lethal despite working with Deathstroke).
Dick (watching himself dodge Wally's attacks): "Tim's going to analyze this. He's going to notice things."
Slade: "Let him notice. As long as they don't connect Renegade to Dick Grayson, you're safe."
Dick (not so sure): "And if they do?"
Slade (standing, moving to the window): "Then you make a choice. Tell them the truth. Explain why you did this. Or you run. Start over somewhere where they can't find you."
Dick (also standing): "I'm not running from my family."
Slade (turning to face him): "Then don't lie to them, kid. But don't let their judgment define who you become."
Wintergreen (closing his tablet): "On that note, I believe Richard has someone waiting for him at home. Someone who'll want to know he survived tonight."
Dick (checking his phone, seeing three missed calls from Zatanna): "Shit. Yeah. I need to—"
Slade (waving him off): "Go. We'll do the formal debrief next week. You earned a few days off after tonight's clusterfuck. Wintergreen already wired your cut to your account."
Dick nodded and made his way to the door.
Dick (turning around before leaving): "Slade? Wintergreen?”
Slade (with one eyebrow raised): “Yeah?”
Dick: “Thanks. For tonight. For not making me choose between you and them."
Slade (nodding, something almost paternal in his expression): "That's not a choice you should ever have to make. Now get out of here before your girlfriend hexes all of us."
Dick (grin despite everything): "She would, wouldn't she?"
Wintergreen: "Without question. The woman's terrifying when motivated."
Dick left, stealing a motorcycle from the safehouse garage, and started the long ride back to civilization. Back to explanations. And back home to Zatanna.
Behind him, Slade and Wintergreen exchanged looks.
Wintergreen: "He did well tonight."
Slade (nodding): "Better than well. He's ready, or he will be soon."
Wintergreen: "And when the truth comes out? When his friends and family discover what he's been doing?"
Slade (turning back to the window): "Then we find out what Dick Grayson is really made of."
[The Watchtower - Briefing Room - 5:34 AM]
The Team sat around the conference table, exhausted, frustrated, and confused.
Batman stood at the head of the table, cowl off, Bruce Wayne's sharp eyes analyzing the mission footage for the fourth time.
On the screen: Renegade fighting Wally. Enhanced speed. Aggressive technique. Escrima sticks crackling with electricity.
Wally (still vibrating slightly with residual speed force): "He was fast, B. Not speedster or metahuman fast, but faster than any normal human. Enhanced reflexes, probably chemically."
Tim (pulling up combat analysis): "His fighting style is a hybrid. I see elements of your training, elements of League of Assassins technique, and something else. Something aggressive that doesn't match any known combatant in our databases."
M'gann (troubled): "I couldn't read him. My telepathy just… slid off. Like he was warded. Magically protected."
Artemis: "Deathstroke's had magical allies before. Not surprising he'd protect his new partner."
Kaldur (thoughtful): "What troubles me is his restraint. Renegade had multiple opportunities to use lethal force. He chose not to."
Conner: "He hit me with enough juice to hurt but not seriously injure. That's not Deathstroke's usual MO."
Bruce (freezing the footage on Renegade's masked face): "He's an unknown. Someone Deathstroke is personally training. Someone with resources, skill, and apparently a moral code that prevents killing despite working with one of the world's deadliest assassins."
Tim (quiet, analytical): "The escrima sticks. Bruce, look at the escrima sticks."
Bruce zoomed in on the weapon. Sleek. Black and red. Custom design.
Tim: "Those are too well-made to be standard mercenary gear. Someone put thought into those. Someone with engineering skills and—"
He stopped, eyes widening slightly.
Tim: "—and money. A lot of money."
Bruce (studying his successor): "What are you thinking?"
Tim (shaking his head): "Nothing. Just… Renegade doesn't fight like a standard mercenary. He fights like someone with training. Real training. The kind you don't get from a few months with Slade Wilson."
Wally: "You think he was a hero before? That he got turned?"
Tim: "Maybe, or maybe he's playing a longer game we don't understand yet."
Bruce (closing the footage): "Continue investigation into Renegade. Cross-reference with anyone who's gone dark in the last six months. Check for enhanced humans with non-lethal preferences. And—", he paused, "—check for missing persons among hero-adjacent individuals. Someone with our training who might've gone rogue."
Tim nodded, but his expression was troubled.
"Dick's been unavailable a lot lately.", his mind whispered, "FBI work, he says. But what if—"
He pushed the thought away.
“But Renegade’s escrima sticks looked an awful lot like Dick’s new ones.”
Impossible.
Right?
[Zatanna's Apartment - 7:23 AM]
Dick slipped through the balcony window, exhausted, aching, and emotionally wrung out.
The apartment was quiet. Morning light streamed through the curtains.
Zatanna sat on the couch, wrapped in a blanket, a mug of tea cooling beside her. She looked up when he entered, and Dick saw the relief flash across her face.
Zatanna (standing): "You're okay."
Dick (moving to her): "I'm okay."
Their lips crashed together, Dick wrapping his arms around her, breathing in her scent (jasmine and something darker, spices and magic), grounding himself in her warmth.
Zatanna (against his chest): "Constantine's problem took all night. Three greater demons and a minor apocalypse that we barely stopped.", she pulled back to look at him, "How was Bialya?"
Dick (guiding her back to the couch, sitting, pulling her against his side): "Complicated. We destroyed the nuclear program. Mission accomplished. But—"
Zatanna (seeing his expression): "But?"
Dick (running a hand through his hair): "The Team showed up. We had to fight them. I had to fight them, Zee. Wally, Tim, Kaldur, everyone."
Zatanna (sitting up, concerned): "Did they recognize you?"
Dick (shaking his head): "No. Your wards held. M'gann tried to read me, but your protection spells worked. And the mask? The modulated voice? They have no idea Renegade is me."
Zatanna (searching his face): "But?"
Dick (voice cracking slightly): "But it felt wrong. Fighting our friends. The people we love. But I was good at it, Zee. Slade's training worked. I held my own against the entire Team."
Zatanna (pulling him closer): "Of course you did. You're one of the best fighters in the world. Training with Slade just made you better."
Dick: "Is that supposed to make me feel less guilty?"
Zatanna (kissing his temple): "No. I think the guilt means you're still you. That you haven't lost yourself in all this."
They sat in silence for a moment, Dick's head resting on Zatanna's shoulder, her fingers running through his hair.
Dick (quietly): "Tell me about your night. About the demons. I need to think about something else for a while."
Zatanna (smile in her voice): "Constantine called at 2 AM. Screaming about greater demons opening portals in Glasgow. I teleported there, found him drunk off his ass trying to hold back three of them with nothing but holy water and spite."
Dick (laughing despite everything): "That sounds like John."
Zatanna: "We fought for three hours, and those things were nasty. I had to use some of the darker spells Constantine taught me. The ones that make me feel—", she stopped.
Dick (lifting his head to look at her): "Make you feel what?"
Zatanna (meeting his eyes): "Powerful. And scared of that power. When I speak those words, when I channel that kind of energy… I'm not sure where the line is anymore between using dark magic and being corrupted by it."
Dick (cupping her face): "You're not corrupted, Zee. You're one of the best people I know."
Zatanna (tears pricking her eyes): "How do you know that? How can you be sure?"
Dick (voice firm): "Because you're worried about it. Corrupt people don't worry about corruption. They embrace it.", he kissed her gently, "And because I love all of you. The stage magician, the Justice League hero, the woman who studies forbidden magic with Constantine. All of you."
Zatanna (kissing him back): "Even the parts that scare me?"
Dick: "Especially those parts. Because you're facing them. Trying to understand them. Trying to stay on the right side of the line."
They kissed deeper, desperate, grounding each other after a night of violence and darkness.
When they finally broke apart, Zatanna reached for the remote, turning on Disney+.
Zatanna: "Lilo & Stitch?"
Dick (settling back against her): "Perfect."
They lay there on the couch, the morning sun warming them through the windows, a cartoon about family and belonging playing on the screen.
Dick's phone buzzed. Text from Tim:
(Tim): "New brief tomorrow at the Watchtower. Be there. Renegade's been making more moves."
Dick stared at the message, dread pooling in his stomach.
"They're investigating. Getting closer."
"How long before someone connects the dots?"
Zatanna (seeing his expression, taking his phone and setting it aside): "Tomorrow's problem. Right now, we're here. We're safe. We're together."
Dick (wrapping his arms around her): "Together."
Zatanna: "Always."
On the screen, Stitch learned about 'Ohana’, that family means nobody gets left behind.
Dick closed his eyes and tried to believe that was true.
Even for someone like him.
Even for someone keeping secrets from the people he loved.
Even for someone walking the line between hero and something else entirely.
Together. Always together.
No matter what came next.
[Elsewhere - Bruce Wayne's Private Study - Wayne Manor]
Bruce sat alone, the Renegade footage playing on loop.
Something about it nagged at him. Something familiar in the way Renegade moved. In the choices he made during combat.
The non-lethal strikes. The escrima sticks (custom, expensive, perfect balance). The aggressive-but-controlled style.
"Where have I seen that before?"
His phone rang. Alfred.
Alfred (over speaker): "Master Bruce. Master Dick called. Says he can't make it to family dinner this weekend. FBI case."
Bruce (distracted): "Mm. Fine."
Alfred (pause): "Sir. When was the last time you spoke with Master Dick? Truly spoke with him?"
Bruce (looking up): "Alfred—"
Alfred (gentle but firm): "You've been investigating this Renegade character for weeks. Perhaps you should spend that energy on your actual family.? On the son who's clearly struggling but won't ask for help because he's convinced you don't care."
Bruce (something twisting in his chest): "I do care."
Alfred: "Then show him, sir. Before it's too late. Before he's lost to you completely."
The line went dead.
Bruce looked back at the screen. At Renegade. At the ghost he'd been chasing.
"Dick's fine. He's always fine. He's—"
But even as he thought it, doubt crept in.
When was the last time they'd really talked?
When was the last time Dick had come to him with a problem?
When had Dick started keeping secrets?
Bruce closed the footage and made a note:
"Talk to Dick. Soon. Really talk."
Then he filed it away with all the other things he meant to do but never found time for.
And in the darkness of his study, surrounded by evidence of Renegade's existence, Bruce Wayne missed the obvious answer that was right in front of him.
Because sometimes, the people we're looking for are the ones we think we already know.
Chapter 18: "The Fall"
Summary:
Dick and Zee are in Bucharest, Romania helping out Constantine with another demon problem.
For better or worse, their luck may have finally ran out as the Team catches them red-handed...
Chapter Text
[Bucharest, Romania - Abandoned Cathedral - 11:47 PM]
The cathedral had been abandoned for decades, left to rot after the Communist regime fell. Now it served as the perfect location for something far worse than political ideology.
A demon incursion.
Not minor. Not containable.
Big.
Dick stood in the shadows of the cathedral's nave, Renegade suit painted in the flickering light of hellfire that burned without consuming. His mask's HUD displayed thermal signatures, seventeen lesser demons circling the main summoning circle, three greater demons maintaining the portal, and in the center of it all, a cult of maybe twenty humans chanting in languages that predated civilization.
Constantine stood ten feet to his left, already bleeding from a gash on his forehead, cigarette somehow still clenched between his teeth despite the chaos.
Constantine (not looking away from the ritual): "Right. So this is monumentally fucked."
Zatanna materialized from the shadows to Dick's right, hands already glowing with purple-black energy, her tactical gear (enchanted, courtesy of months working with Constantine) blending into the darkness.
Zatanna (assessing the situation): "’Monumentally’ is putting it lightly, John. That's a permanent Hell-gate they're trying to open. If they succeed—"
Dick (checking his weapons, escrima sticks, silver knife, and salt rounds): "—every demon in Hell gets a free pass to Earth. Yeah. We got that part."
Constantine (taking a drag): "Good news is, we've got maybe ten minutes before the ritual completes? Bad news is, we've got to get through twenty demons and the cultists to stop it."
Dick (already moving): "Then we don't waste time talking about it."
He launched himself forward with enhanced speed (thank you, Slade's serum), escrima sticks crackling to life. The nearest lesser demon turned, claws extended, face a nightmare of teeth and malice.
Dick twisted mid-air, drove his stick into the demon's eye socket, and the creature shrieked before dissolving into ash.
One down. Sixteen to go.
Zatanna was already chanting, hands weaving complex patterns that made the air shimmer:
Zatanna: "DNIB MEHT! SREIRRAB DLOH! SNOMED FO LLEH, RAEH EM DNA ELBMERT!"
Purple chains erupted from the floor, wrapping around five demons simultaneously, crushing them back toward the Hell-gate.
Constantine (throwing holy water): "That's my girl! Show these bastards why you don't fuck with a Zatara!"
Three demons rushed Dick. He dropped low, swept one's legs (enhanced strength making it possible), drove his silver knife into another's throat, and hit the third with a full-power electrical discharge from his escrima stick.
All three dissolved.
This is working. We can do this.
The greater demons noticed them now. One broke away from maintaining the portal, turning its massive, burning gaze toward the intruders.
Greater Demon (voice like breaking glass): "MORTALS, YOU DARE INTERRUPT THE OPENING?"
Dick (not slowing down): "Yeah. We're rude like that."
The greater demon moved fast, impossibly fast for something that size, and suddenly Dick was dodging claws that could disembowel him, backing up, trying to find an opening.
Constantine (seeing Dick's predicament): "Zat-Zat! Cover him!"
Zatanna (already moving, hands blazing): "DLEIHSBUS!"
A purple shield materialized between Dick and the greater demon just as claws raked across where his chest had been.
Dick (using the moment): "Thanks!"
Zatanna: "Don't mention it! Just—behind you!"
Dick spun, escrima stick meeting the face of a lesser demon that had tried to ambush him. The creature went down hard.
They were winning. Slowly, painfully, but winning.
The cultists were faltering, their chanting disrupted by the chaos. The Hell-gate was fluctuating, unstable without full concentration.
Constantine (seeing the opening): "The anchor point! Northwest corner! There's a—"
*BOOM*
The cathedral's eastern wall exploded inward.
Not from the demons.
From something else.
Someone else.
Through the smoke and debris came Superboy, fists still glowing with the impact. Behind him, the rest of the Team materialized:
Wally (vibrating with speed): "EVERYBODY STAND DOWN! You're under—"
He stopped mid-sentence.
Because he'd just seen Renegade.
And Zatanna.
Working together.
With Constantine.
Fighting demons.
The Team froze. Complete, utter stillness as every member processed what they were seeing.
Tim (Red Robin, voice sharp with disbelief): "Zatanna? What are you—"
Artemis (crossbow raised but not firing): "Is that… is that Renegade?"
M'gann (telepathic voice carrying shock): "Zatanna's with Renegade? But why would—"
Kaldur (water-bearers at the ready, expression carefully neutral but eyes betraying confusion): "Stand down! All of you! We need to—"
The Hell-gate pulsed.
The distraction had given the cultists time to regroup, to refocus their chanting.
The portal was stabilizing.
Constantine (voice desperate): "Fuck! We don't have time for this! That gate's about to open permanently!"
Dick (turning to the Team, voice modulated by his mask): "You want to arrest us? Fine. But do it after we stop the apocalypse!"
Wally (still vibrating, but uncertainty flooding his features): "We were told you were—that Renegade was working with Deathstroke to—"
Zatanna (magic flaring, frustration bleeding through): "Wally, I swear to God! If you don't help us right now, everyone on this planet is going to die! You can interrogate us later!"
A greater demon burst through the circle, freed by the Team's distraction.
Conner (reacting on instinct): "Team! Engage!"
Chaos erupted.
The Team engaged the demons, some helping Constantine and Zatanna, others clearly torn between the mission and the impossible situation unfolding.
Dick fought alongside them, muscle memory from years of partnership kicking in despite everything. He and Wally moved in perfect sync, just like old times, taking down lesser demons with combined speed and precision.
But Dick could feel Wally's eyes on him. Could sense the questions, the betrayal.
Later. Deal with it later. Right now, stop the apocalypse.
Constantine (fighting his way toward the anchor point): "Zatanna! I need three minutes! Keep them off me!"
Zatanna (already moving, creating a protective circle around Constantine): "On it!"
Purple magic erupted from her hands, not just binding spells, but destruction. Dark magic that Constantine had taught her, the kind that made the air taste like copper and made reality bend.
The cultists screamed as their ritual was forcibly disrupted. The Hell-gate shuddered.
Dick saw it happen in slow motion:
A greater demon, seeing Constantine reaching for the anchor, lunged.
Constantine couldn't defend himself, hands occupied with the spell that would collapse the gate.
Dick moved without thinking, threw himself between Constantine and the demon, escrima sticks crossed in a defensive X.
The demon's claws met his sticks with a sound like rending metal. The impact sent Dick flying, slamming into a stone pillar hard enough to crack it.
Pain exploded through his ribs (broken, definitely broken), but the serum was already working, dulling the worst of it, letting him move.
Wally (speed-blurring to Dick's side): "Renegade!"
Dick (pushing himself up, not looking at his best friend): "I'm fine! Help Constantine!"
But Wally's hand was on his shoulder, and through the touch, Dick felt the question. The desperate need to understand.
Constantine (voice strained with magical effort): "Got it! Anchor's compromised! Gate's collapsing!"
The Hell-gate imploded.
Demons shrieked as they were sucked back into Hell. The cultists collapsed, their ritual broken, their purpose destroyed. The hellfire extinguished, leaving only normal flames that the cathedral's stone couldn't sustain.
Silence.
The kind of silence that came after battles, when adrenaline faded and reality set in.
Dick stood slowly, body screaming in protest despite the serum's healing, and found himself surrounded.
Not by demons.
By the Team.
His Team. His family.
All of them staring at him with expressions that ranged from shock to confusion to something that looked dangerously like betrayal.
Tim moved first, stepping forward with that careful, analytical precision that made him such a good detective.
Tim (voice carefully controlled): "Zatanna. Step away from Renegade. We need to take him into custody."
Zatanna (moving to stand beside Dick, magic still crackling at her fingertips): "No."
Artemis (crossbow lowered but ready): "Zee, he's working with Deathstroke. He's a—"
Zatanna (interrupting): "He's not what you think he is. None of this is what you think it is."
Constantine (lighting a cigarette with shaking hands, trying to edge toward the exit): "Right, well, this has been lovely, but I've got places to be, demons to exorcise, a liver to destroy—"
Kaldur (water-bearers forming a barrier): "You're not going anywhere, Constantine. All three of you are coming with us. The Justice League will want answers."
Dick (stepping forward, putting himself between Constantine and the Team): "Let him go."
Wally (voice cracking slightly): "What are you—"
Dick (firm): "Constantine brought us here to stop a Hell-gate from opening. He's not your enemy. Let. Him. Go."
Tim (eyes narrowing): "And why should we? Give me one good reason why we should trust anything you say right now."
Dick (meeting Tim's gaze through the mask): "Because I'm asking you to. Because you know me. Because—"
Conner (voice hard): "We don't know you. We don't know who you are. We don't know why you're working with Deathstroke or why Zatanna's protecting you or what the hell is going on!"
M'gann (telepathic pressure building, trying to read Dick through his mask): "Let me see. Let me just—"
Zatanna (magic flaring defensively): "Stay out of his head, M'gann. I mean it."
M'gann (hurt bleeding into her mental voice): "Zatanna, why are you protecting him? What's he done to you?"
Zatanna (voice fierce): "He hasn't done anything to me! I'm here because I choose to be!"
Constantine (seeing an opening, already backing toward the broken wall): "Much as I'd love to stay for this touching family reunion, I really must be—"
Bart (blur of yellow and red, cutting off Constantine's escape): "Not so fast, trenchcoat guy! You're staying right here until we figure out what's going on!"
Dick (calculating odds, knowing they couldn't fight their way out, not against the whole Team): "Zatanna. We have to let Constantine go."
Zatanna (turning to him, whispering): "Dick, if we—"
Dick (quiet but firm): "Let him go. He's done nothing wrong. This isn't his fight."
Constantine (looking between them): "Mate, I'm not leaving you two to—"
Dick (voice harder): "You have other people to protect. Other demons to stop. We'll handle this. Go."
For a moment, Constantine hesitated. Then he looked at Zatanna, something passing between them, some understanding forged in months of demon-hunting together.
Constantine (pulling out a piece of chalk, drawing rapid sigils on the ground): "Right fucking idiots, you two are. Noble, brave, stupid fucking idiots."
Tim (moving to stop him): "Don't let him—"
Zatanna (throwing up a shield between Constantine and the Team): "Dleihsbus!"
Purple energy solidified into a barrier, and Constantine finished his teleportation circle.
Constantine (stepping into it, already fading): "I'll be in touch, Zat-Zat, Mister Renegade. Don't let these boy scout bastards break you."
He vanished in a flash of golden light and sulfur.
The Team turned on Dick and Zatanna with renewed intensity.
Kaldur (voice carrying authority): "That was a mistake. Helping a known person of interest escape—"
Zatanna (lowering her shield, hands still ready): "’Person of interest?’ John Constantine has saved this world more times than the Justice League even knows about! He—"
Wally (interrupting, vibrating with barely contained emotion): "Enough! Both of you, just—stop! Zee, what the hell are you doing? Why are you working with Renegade? Why are you—", his voice broke, "Why are you lying to us?"
Dick felt something crack in his chest. The raw pain in Wally's voice, the betrayal.
Zatanna (voice softer): "Wally, we're not your enemies. We're trying to help—"
Artemis (bitter laugh): "Help? You helped a wanted man escape! You've been lying to us for how long?”
M'gann (tears forming): "Zatanna, please. Just tell us what's going on. Tell us why you're protecting him."
Zatanna looked at Dick. He saw the question in her eyes: How much do we tell them?
Dick gave the smallest shake of his head.
Not here. Not like this. Not when they're this emotional.
Tim (taking another step forward, voice cold with detective's logic): "Fine. You don't want to talk? Then we'll do this the hard way. Team, restrain them. Non-lethal force, but get them secured."
Dick (hands coming up in a placating gesture): "Red Robin, wait—"
Conner moved first, super-speed bringing him face to face with Dick in less than a second.
Dick could've fought. Could've used Slade's training, the enhanced reflexes, the brutal efficiency.
But these were his friends.
So when Conner's fist came toward him, Dick only partially blocked, took most of the impact to his shoulder (his already healing body screaming in protest), and let himself be driven backward.
Wally (seeing it, something flickering in his eyes): "Wait, he's not—he didn't really fight back—"
Zatanna threw up shields, not attacking, just defending, keeping the Team at bay.
Zatanna (desperate): "We're not your enemies! We're trying to—"
Kaldur's water-bearers wrapped around her arms, disrupting her magic, pulling her hands apart.
Zatanna (struggling): "Kaldur, please, just listen—"
M'gann's telepathic pressure slammed into Dick's mind again, harder this time, demanding entry.
Dick's mental shields (Zatanna's wards plus Slade's training) held, but barely.
M'gann (confused, almost scared): "Why can't I read him? What kind of protection—"
Artemis (moving behind Dick, voice tight): "Renegade. Last chance. Come quietly or we make you come quietly."
Dick (knowing this was over, that they'd lost): "I'll come quietly. Just… Just don't hurt Zatanna. She's not—"
Zatanna (fierce): "I'm not letting you take the fall for this alone!"
Dick (turning to her): "Zee—"
Tim (voice like ice): "Both of you. Hands where we can see them. Now."
Dick and Zatanna exchanged one long look. Everything they'd built, everything they'd worked for, everything they'd hidden, all of it falling apart in this abandoned cathedral in Bucharest.
Dick raised his hands slowly.
Zatanna did the same, magic dissipating from her fingers.
Wally (moving closer, vibrating with nervous energy): "The mask. Take off the mask."
Dick (voice quiet): "Kid Flash—"
Wally (louder): "Take. Off. The. Mask."
Dick's hands moved to the back of his mask, found the release.
He could've refused. Could've made them unmask him by force.
But what would that accomplish? They'd won. This was over.
The mask came off.
And the Team's world shattered.
Wally (stumbling backward, face going pale): "No. No, that's not… you're not—"
Artemis (crossbow clattering from nerveless fingers): "Dick?"
Kaldur (water-bearers faltering): "This… This is not possible. Dick Grayson would never—"
Conner (voice barely above a whisper): "You're Renegade? You're Deathstroke's partner? You're—"
M'gann (telepathic sob): "Dick? Oh God, Dick, what have you done?"
Tim stood frozen, face hidden behind his cowl, but Dick could see the tension in every line of his body.
The betrayal.
The hurt.
Bart (trying to lighten the moment, failing): "Uh. Did anyone else know about this? Because I definitely didn't know about this. Feeling a little out of the loop here—"
Cassie (quietly): "Bart. Shut up."
Dick looked at each of them, at his family, his friends, and saw their world breaking in real-time.
Wally (voice cracking): "How long? How long have you been—"
Dick: "A few months. I don't… it's complicated."
Artemis (anger surging): "Complicated? You've been working with Deathstroke for fuck’s sake! You've been lying to us! To everyone! That's not complicated, that's—"
Zatanna (stepping forward): "Don't you dare judge him! You don't know what he's been through! You don't know why—"
Tim (voice cold, controlled fury): "And you? You knew? You've been helping him. Covering for him?"
Zatanna (meeting his gaze): "Yes. I knew. And I'd do it again."
Kaldur (recovering some of his composure): "Then… We’re taking both of you into custody. By authority of the Justice League, pending investigation of your activities with known criminals and—"
Dick (bitter laugh): "Arrest? On what charges? We just helped you stop a Hell-gate from opening."
Tim (pulling out restraints, power-dampening cuffs): "Conspiracy. Association with known criminals. Unauthorized use of lethal force—"
Dick (interrupting): "I haven't killed anyone, Tim. Check your records. Every operation, every mission, even the one in Bialya? All of them non-lethal."
Conner (moving closer, clearly ready to restrain Dick if needed): "That doesn't make it okay! Dick, you've been lying! You've been—"
Dick: "I've been doing what needs to be done. What the League was too slow, too bureaucratic to handle."
Wally (desperately): "Dick, just… Just tell us why? Tell us why you did this? Maybe we can… maybe Bruce can—"
Dick (something dark crossing his features): "Bruce? Right. Because Bruce has been so emotionally available. So understanding. So—"
Zatanna (hand on his arm, warning): "Dick. Don't."
Dick (pulling away from her touch, months of frustration bleeding through): "No. No. They want answers? They want to understand? Fine."
Tim (cuffs ready, approaching slowly): "Dick. Come quietly. We'll sort this out at the Watchtower. We'll—"
Dick (voice hardening): "Sort it out? Like how we ‘sorted out’ Jason coming back from the dead? Like how we ‘sorted out’ Damian nearly killing you every other week? Like how we ‘sorted out’ the Light and the Reach?"
Artemis (flinching): "Dick, that’s not—"
Dick (rounding on her): "I made the calls no one else wanted to make. I sent Kaldur undercover with the Light, knowing he'd have to do terrible things to maintain his cover. I faked your death, Artemis, and watched Wally nearly destroy himself with grief. I carried those secrets, those decisions, because someone had to."
Wally (voice breaking): "Dick, we know. We know what you sacrificed. But this? Working with Deathstroke? This is—"
Dick (bitter laugh): "This is what? Crossing a line? Becoming something you can't accept?", he gestured to himself, to Zatanna, "We've been doing the work the League won't touch. Taking down trafficking rings. Stopping demon incursions and weapons deals. Destroying magical artifacts that would've killed thousands. We saved lives, Wally."
Kaldur (water-bearers still ready): "Through methods the League cannot condone. Through alliances with criminals like Deathstroke and John Constantine—"
Zatanna (voice sharp): "John has saved this world more times than any of you! And Dick hasn't compromised his principles! He hasn't killed anyone!"
M'gann (telepathic voice gentle but firm): "But he's been lying to us. For months. That's not—that's not who Dick Grayson is."
Dick (quiet, dangerous): "Maybe you never knew who Dick Grayson really was. Maybe I've been playing a role for so long I forgot how to be anything else."
Conner (stepping forward): "That's bullshit and you know it, Dick. You're family. You're one of the best people we know. This? This isn't you. Deathstroke did something to you, manipulated you—"
Dick (anger flashing): "Slade didn't manipulate me! He offered me something Bruce never did! A choice. The freedom to be more than Batman's first failure, more than the Team leader who couldn't save everyone, more than the golden boy who had to be perfect all the time!"
Wally (tears forming): "You're not a failure. You never were. We never thought—"
Dick (voice cracking): "Didn't you? After Kaldur went undercover? After we almost lost you to the Speed Force? After every mission where I had to choose between bad options and worse ones?", he paused, breathing hard. "I've been drowning for years. And none of you noticed."
Silence.
Heavy, suffocating silence.
Artemis (quietly): "We would've helped. If you'd just asked—"
Dick: "Would you? Or would you have done what you're doing now? Judged me. Told me I was making the wrong choices. Tried to fix me according to Bruce's standards?"
Tim (voice tight): "This isn't about Bruce—"
Dick (laughing without humor): "It's always about Bruce, Tim. Everything in our lives revolves around what he thinks, what he approves of. Well, I'm done. I'm done trying to live up to impossible standards. I'm done pretending I don't have darkness inside me. I'm done lying about who I really am."
Zatanna (hand finding his again, squeezing): "Dick—"
Kaldur (moving closer with the power-dampening cuffs): "I am sorry, my friend. But you must come with us. Both of you. The League will decide what happens next."
Dick looked at the cuffs, at Kaldur's apologetic but determined expression, at the Team surrounding them.
He could fight. With Slade's training, the serum's enhancements, Zatanna's magic, they could probably escape.
But what would that make them?
Fugitives? Criminals? Everything they'd been trying to prove they weren't.
Dick (voice hollow): "And if we refuse?"
Conner (stepping forward, fists clenched): "Then we make you come. And nobody wants that."
Wally (desperately): "Please, Dick. Please just… Come quietly. Talk to Bruce. Talk to the League. There has to be a way to fix this."
Dick met Zatanna's eyes. Saw the same calculation, the same resignation.
“We've lost. There's no way out that doesn't make this worse.”
Dick (glancing over to Zatanna): "Zee?"
She just nodded at him.
Dick: “We won’t resist.”
Zatanna (extending her wrists, but her eyes were hard): "But don't think for a second that we're apologizing. We did what we had to do."
Kaldur (carefully placing the cuffs on Dick's wrists, the power-dampening tech humming to life): "I am truly sorry, Dick. You have been my friend and fello leader for many years. I wish this could have ended differently."
Tim (cuffing Zatanna, voice quieter): "Me too."
The cuffs clicked shut, and Dick felt the slight tingle of the dampening field activating. Not that it mattered, even with the serum's enhancements being dampened, he could still break out with pure training and skill alone.
But he let them think they'd secured him properly.
Wally (pulling out a communicator): "Watchtower, this is Kid Flash. We've secured Renegade and—", his voice faltered, "We've apprehended Dick Grayson and Zatanna Zatara. Requesting immediate transport."
Static. Then.
Captain Marvel (on the line): "Say again, Kid Flash? Did you say—"
Wally (voice breaking): "Confirmed. Renegade is Dick Grayson. He's been working with Deathstroke. Zatanna's been helping him. We need… we need Batman. And the League. All of them."
More static.
Captain Marvel (speechless): "Jeez, uhm. Okay. Acknowledged. Holy crap…"
Kaldur (nodding to Wally): “Take them aboard the Bioship.”
Dick (looking at his Team, his family): "For what it's worth, I'm sorry. Sorry you had to find out this way. Sorry I couldn't be what you needed me to be."
Artemis (voice thick with emotion): "You dumbass. We didn't need you to be anything except honest."
Dick (with a stern look): “Even if I was upfront about it, you wouldn’t be able to handle the truth.”
[Gotham City - The Bat Cave - Same Time]
Bruce Wayne sat at the Bat Computer, surrounded by screens displaying everything he'd compiled on Renegade over the past months.
Combat footage. Witness reports. Blurry images of a figure in black and red. Always professional. Always efficient. Always non-lethal despite working with Deathstroke.
Something about it nagged at him. Something familiar.
Selina (descending the Cave stairs, carrying tea): "Still obsessing over your mysterious mercenary?"
Bruce (not looking away from the screens): "There's something here. Something I'm missing. The way he moves, the choices he makes—"
Selina (setting the tea beside him): "Maybe you're looking too hard. Sometimes the obvious answer is the right one."
Bruce (finally turning): "The obvious answer is that Deathstroke recruited someone with League-level training. Someone who knows our tactics. Someone who—"
The comm line rang.
But not the regular comm line, the Watchtower comm line.
Bruce (answering): "Batman."
Clark (on the line): "Bruce? It's Clark. You need to get to the Watchtower. Now."
Bruce (already standing, moving toward the suit): "What's happened? Another attack? The Light—"
Clark: "It's Dick."
Bruce froze.
Bruce (voice carefully controlled): "Dick? What about Dick?"
Clark: "The Team just apprehended Renegade. Bruce—", Clark's voice cracked slightly, "It's Dick. Renegade is Dick. He's Deathstroke’s new partner. And Zatanna's been helping him."
Selina (standing, hand on his arm): "Bruce? What's—"
Bruce couldn't speak. Couldn't process. His mind, that perfect, analytical detective's mind simply stopped.
Dick. Renegade. Deathstroke.
Impossible.
Not Dick. Not his son. Not—
But even as denial surged, pieces clicked into place with horrible clarity:
The disappearance months ago. The vague explanations upon return. The new combat style. The enhanced reflexes. The way Renegade moved in footage, familiar because it was Dick's foundation overlaid with something new.
The escrima sticks. Custom-made. Expensive. Red and black.
Oh God.
Bruce (voice hollow): "How long? How long have we?"
Selina (talking over the comm, speaking into it): "Clark? It’s Selina, we're coming. Tell them not to do anything until we get there."
She hung up, turned to Bruce, and saw something in his expression that made her heart break.
Selina (gently): "Bruce. We need to go. Now."
Bruce moved mechanically, pulling on the cowl, the cape, becoming Batman because that was easier than being Bruce Wayne whose son had been lying for months.
As they headed to the Bat Cave's Zeta Tube platform, Bruce's mind raced through every interaction, every conversation, every mission where Dick had been different.
“The signs had been there. All along. And I missed them.”
“I failed him. Again.”
The Zeta energy enveloped them, and Batman prepared to face the impossible truth waiting at the Watchtower.
Chapter 19: "Breaking Point"
Summary:
All I can say is that y'all are in for a treat on this one, mwehehehehehehe...
Notes:
Warning: MAXIMUM ANGST, YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.
Chapter Text
[The Watchtower - Holding Cells - 6:47 AM]
Dick Grayson sat on the reinforced steel bench, power-dampening cuffs humming on his wrists, and tried not to think about how spectacularly everything had gone to hell.
The holding cell was designed for meta-humans, reinforced walls, energy barriers, constant surveillance. Overkill for someone whose only "enhancement" was Slade's serum, but the League wasn't taking chances.
Not after learning that Nightwing—their Nightwing, Batman's first protégé, the Team's leader—had been training with Deathstroke for six months.
Across the corridor, in an identical cell, Zatanna Zatara sat with her back against the wall, anti-magic restraints glowing faintly around her wrists. She looked exhausted, her stage makeup smeared, hair disheveled from the fight in Bucharest.
Their eyes met through the transparent barriers.
No words needed.
Together. Always together.
Dick heard footsteps approaching, multiple sets, heavy with purpose and anger.
Here we go.
The corridor filled with people.
The Justice League's heavy hitters: Superman, Wonder Woman, Batman, Flash, Green Lantern (Hal), Aquaman, Green Arrow, Black Canary, Martian Manhunter. Captain Marvel hovered awkwardly at the back.
The entire Team, original and expanded: Kaldur, Wally, Artemis, Conner, M'gann, Cassie, La'gaan, Gar, Jaime, Karen, Bart. Tim stood with them, Red Robin cowl pulled back, expression carefully blank.
The Bat Family had turned out in force: Jason (arms crossed, Red Hood helmet tucked under one arm), Damian (Robin uniform pristine, stance aggressive), Barbara (Oracle station mobile unit beside her wheelchair), Stephanie, Cassandra, Duke, Kate Kane in full Batwoman gear, and Selina Kyle (because of course Bruce had brought her).
Even Doctor Fate was there, golden and imposing and wrong in a way that made Dick's enhanced senses scream.
The only person missing was Alfred. Thank God for small mercies.
Bruce stepped forward first, cowl pulled back, and Dick had never seen him look so betrayed.
Bruce (voice flat, controlled fury): "Eight months. Eight months of lies. Of deception. Of working with one of the world's most dangerous assassins.", he paused, "Explain. Now."
Dick (meeting his eyes): "What's there to explain? You already know everything. The Team caught us in Bucharest. You've had hours to go through the mission footage, analyze everything. What explanation could I possibly give that would satisfy you?"
Bruce (jaw tightening): "Try. Because right now, the League is debating whether to formally charge you as an accomplice to Deathstroke's crimes. Whether to strip your Justice League access. Whether you're even safe to have around."
Dick felt something cold settle in his chest.
“They're treating me like a criminal. Like a threat.”
Wally (stepping forward, vibrating slightly): "Dick, please. Just tell us what happened. Help us understand. We're your friends, man. Your family. We want to help—"
Dick (bitter laugh): "Help? You want to help? Where was that help when I was drowning in Team leadership? When every decision I made got people almost killed? When I had send Kaldur undercover? Fake Artemis's death? And watch you almost get erased from existence?"
Wally (flinching): "That's not—we didn't—"
Dick (standing, and despite the cuffs, despite the cell, he radiated danger): "No. You didn't. None of you did. Because it was easier to let me carry it. Easier to let Dick Grayson be the responsible one, the leader, the one who made the impossible choices so you didn't have to."
Kaldur (voice measured but concerned): "Dick, that is not fair—"
Dick (whirling on him): "Isn't it? Tell me, Kaldur. When you were undercover with the Light, playing villain, doing terrible things to maintain your cover, who made that call? Who planned that operation? Who carried the weight of knowing that if it failed, you'd be lost forever?"
Kaldur (quiet): "You did."
Dick: "And when we faked Artemis's death? When Wally had to act and believe that she was gone, let him pretend to grieve because the mission required it, who made that call?"
Artemis (voice small): "You did."
Dick: "And when the Reach invaded? When we were outmatched, outgunned, when Wally was about to be erased from existence to stop them, who was supposed to have all the answers?"
Silence.
Dick's voice dropped, became something raw and broken.
Dick (quieter now): "I was twenty years old. Leading a team against threats that should've required the entire League. Making calls that would haunt me for the rest of my life. And when it was over? When we'd won? Everyone looked at me like I was some kind of monster for the choices I'd made."
M'gann (tears forming): "We never… Dick, we never thought—"
Dick: "Yes, you did. I saw it in your eyes. All of you. The way you looked at me after we revealed the truth about the undercover op. Like I was dangerous. Like I couldn't be trusted. Like maybe Batman had been right to keep me at arm's length."
Tim (stepping forward): "That's not true—"
Dick (laughing without humor): "Isn't it, Tim? You took over as Robin after Jason died. Became Bruce's new partner. The better one. The one who didn't fail. And what did I do? Ran away to Blüdhaven. Became Nightwing. Put distance between myself and the role I'd apparently fucked up so badly that it got my brother killed."
Jason (voice hard): "Don't bring me into this—"
Dick (turning on him): "Why not? It's true, isn't it? You said it yourself, I should've been there. Should've protected you. Should've made sure Bruce didn’t let you go after the Joker alone in Switzerland. But I was too busy being Nightwing, too busy with the Team, too busy proving I didn't need Batman anymore."
Jason opened his mouth, then closed it, something complicated crossing his features.
Bruce (voice dangerously quiet): "Is that what this is about? Guilt? You think training with Deathstroke will somehow make up for Jason? For the choices you've made?"
Dick felt something snap inside him.
The careful control he'd maintained. The measured responses. The attempt to explain rationally.
Gone.
Dick (voice rising): "I've had it! I've had it with this bullshit! I've had it with everything!"
The cell's energy barrier flickered as his enhanced physiology pushed against the restraints.
Dick: "You want to know why I trained with Slade? Really want to know? Because he offered me something none of you ever did, a choice! The freedom to be who I wanted to be, not who Batman needed me to be. Not who the Team expected. Not the golden boy who never fucks up, never breaks, never stops."
Damian (stepping forward, hand on his sword): "How dare you speak to Father like that! After everything he's done for you—"
Dick (whirling on the twelve-year-old): "Done for me? What has he done for me, Damian? Gave me a home? Yes. Trained me to be Robin? Yes. And then what? Replaced me the moment I wanted to be my own person. Took in Jason, then Tim, then you, building his army of child soldiers while I was pushed further and further away."
Bruce (voice tight): "That's not—I never—"
Dick: "Yes, you did! Every damn time I tried to talk to you, really talk, about my feelings, my struggles, my pain, but you shut me down! Told me to focus on the mission. To be professional. To not let emotions compromise the work."
He was shouting now, months of suppressed rage pouring out.
Dick: "You want to talk about compromising the mission? Let's talk about your mission, Bruce! The one where you decided that taking in traumatized children and turning them into weapons was acceptable! Where you couldn't give us actual emotional support but you could teach us seventeen ways to kill a man!"
Stephanie (quietly): "Dick—"
Dick (not stopping): "And the League! Don't even get me started on the League! You sit up here in your satellite, making decisions about who's worthy of membership, who gets to be a hero, while people are dying because you're too concerned with jurisdiction and politics to actually help!"
Clark (stepping forward): "That's not fair—"
Dick (laughing, manic): "Not fair? Tell that to the meta-human trafficking victims we saved in Eastern Europe! The ones the League knew about but couldn't touch because of 'international law' and 'diplomatic immunity'! Tell that to the people who died because you were too busy getting authorization to actually save them!"
Diana (voice firm): "We operate within certain parameters—"
Dick: "Parameters that get people killed! You want to know what Slade taught me? Effectiveness. How to cut through the red tape and actually help people. How to make the hard calls without drowning in guilt and committee meetings!"
Wally (desperately): "Dude! Stop, wait, let us—"
Dick (rounding on his best friend): "Save me the lecture, Walls! I'm sick of it! I'm sick of having to be everyone's golden boy! I'm sick of everyone always expecting that I can't fuck up when I'm just as human as the rest of you!"
His voice cracked, raw emotion bleeding through.
Dick: "The undercover op with the Light. Almost losing you to the Speed Force. Yes! They were my calls! My choices! My consequences! I made those decisions because no one else wanted to! Because if I hadn't, we would all be living in Bart's future where humanity's been enslaved and the Reach rules everything!"
Silence.
Complete, utter silence.
Everyone stared at Dick like they'd never seen him before. Like the mask had finally cracked completely, revealing something raw and bleeding underneath.
Bart (voice small): "You... you knew? About my future? About what would've happened?"
Dick (voice hollow): "Of course I knew. Why do you think I pushed so hard? Made such desperate plays? I was trying to prevent your timeline from happening. And it worked. We won. But at what cost?"
He slumped against the cell wall, exhaustion finally catching up.
Dick (quietly): "I had to make choices to save the world. I made the impossible calls. Sacrificed my relationships, my self, my soul to make sure everyone else survived. And when it was over, all I got was judgment. Suspicion. The sense that maybe I'd gone too far."
Conner (voice gruff): "We never said—"
Dick (looking up, and his eyes were haunted): "You didn't have to. I could see it. Every time you looked at me after the truth came out about the undercover op. Every time someone mentioned the choices I'd made. The weight of it. The knowing that people were starting to wonder if Dick Grayson could still be trusted."
M'gann (telepathic voice gentle): "Dick, we never stopped trusting you—"
Dick: "Then why did it feel like I was drowning? Why did every mission, every decision, every breath feel like I was one step away from failing everyone? Again."
As they processed Dick's breakdown, Doctor Fate stepped forward, golden helm turning toward Zatanna's cell.
Doctor Fate (voice resonating with ancient power and Giovanni's Italian accent): "And what of you, Daughter of Zatara? What made you pursue the dark arts with Constantine—"
Zatanna (voice cutting through like a whip): "Zip it, you body-stealing fuck!"
Everyone's attention snapped to her cell.
Silence.
Complete, shocked silence.
No one—no one—spoke to Doctor Fate like that. The Lord of Order, one of the League's most powerful members, the avatar of Nabu, who was treated with reverence bordering on fear.
But Zatanna's eyes blazed with fury that had been building for years.
Doctor Fate (attempting to moderate tone): "Zatanna, calm yourself—"
Zatanna (standing, magic crackling around her despite the restraints): "How dare you! How dare you speak to me like you know me! How dare you try and analyze me after you took my father away!"
Doctor Fate: "Zatanna, your father volunteered—"
Zatanna (voice rising to a scream): "BECAUSE YOU WOULDN'T LET ME GO, YOU ASSHOLE!"
The holding cell's anti-magic barriers flickered.
Silence.
Dead, horrified silence.
Zatanna (voice breaking, tears streaming): "MY DAD HAD TO GIVE HIMSELF UP TO YOU TO SAVE ME! AND THAT'S ON ME BECAUSE I HAD TO PUT ON YOUR STUPID FUCKING HELMET TO STOP KLARION!"
Her magic flared brighter, purple-black energy that the restraints struggled to contain.
Zatanna: "I WAS FOURTEEN! Fourteen years old, and I made a choice to save the world, and the price was YOU! YOU latched onto me, tried to make me your permanent host, and my dad? My father? He had to sacrifice his entire life, his freedom, his existence to save me!"
Doctor Fate wouldn't—couldn't—speak.
Behind the golden mask, Giovanni Zatara's consciousness screamed soundlessly, trapped, powerless to comfort his daughter.
Zatanna: "WE COULD'VE FOUND YOU SOME OTHER HOST! YOU INCONSIDERATE FUCK! Someone who was fully willing to give up their life to be your long-term vessel! But NO! You just HAD to be too FUCKING UNREASONABLE and made my dad give himself up to you! You manipulated my father into being your vessel because you KNEW that he would do ANYTHING to give me a second chance at life away from being YOUR host!"
Her voice cracked completely.
Zatanna: "SO SCREW ME IF I WANTED TO LEARN DARK MAGIC! Screw me for wanting to become more powerful so that I wouldn't feel HELPLESS anymore! So that I'd never have to watch someone I love sacrifice themselves because I wasn't STRONG enough! And FUCK ALL OF YOU for what you did to US! To DICK, and for everything you've put us through!"
She collapsed back onto the bench, sobbing, years of suppressed grief and rage finally breaking free.
The corridor was silent except for her crying.
No one knew what to say. How to respond to that level of raw, honest pain.
Finally, Dick's voice cut through the quiet, calm now, exhausted.
Dick: "I've been in contact with Slade for years."
Bruce (turning slowly): "What?"
Dick: "Every time. Solo missions, either by coincidence or by chance, he always found me. Always tried to talk to me. Started when I was fourteen, not long after we saved you from Vandal Savage’s control. My first real solo op as Robin, and there he was. Deathstroke. The world's best mercenary, and instead of trying to kill me, he tried to recruit me."
Tim (voice tight): "For how long? How many times?"
Dick (looking at his successor): "Years. Forty, maybe fifty encounters? Maybe more? I lost count. Every time, same offer. Same answer. He'd try to convince me to be his apprentice. I'd say no. We'd fight. Always ended in a draw. Then we'd part ways until next time."
Jason (voice dangerous): "But?"
Dick (meeting his resurrected brother's eyes): "I almost gave in after you died. I was in a solo mission gone wrong, stranded in hostile territory. Slade was there. We had to work together to survive. And God, Jason, it actually felt good fighting with him. Seamless. Efficient. Like we were partners instead of enemies."
He paused, emotion thick in his voice.
Dick: "When we got out, he made the offer again. And I wanted to say yes. Wanted to walk away from all the pain, the guilt, the feeling that I'd failed you. That I'd failed Bruce. That maybe I wasn't cut out for this life."
Bruce (voice barely above a whisper): "Why didn't you?"
Dick: "Because I thought of you. I thought about all of you. The Team. The Family. Everyone who'd see it as betrayal. So I said no. Again. Like I always did."
Wally: "Then what changed?"
Dick (looking at his best friend): "The Light. The Reach. After the invasion, thinking you were gone forever. Everyone holding my decisions against me even after you came back. The weight of knowing that I'd made calls that almost destroyed everything, and no one—no one—understood why I'd made them."
He stood slowly, power-dampening cuffs humming.
Dick: "Slade reached out again. Still the same offer. An apprenticeship. A chance to learn everything I could from him. But this time, with an olive branch."
Wally (confused): "Olive branch?"
Dick: "He told me he wasn't asking me to abandon my life. He was asking me to enhance it. To become more than what I was. That Bruce didn't teach me everything. That Bruce taught me his way of being rigid, controlled, bound by rules that get people killed."
Jason (noticing): "You're on a first-name basis with him now?"
Dick (not denying it): "Slade offered freedom. Offered to teach me how to win without compromises. How to be effective without losing myself. How to make the hard calls without drowning in guilt."
Bruce (voice tight): "And you agreed? For what? What did he want in exchange?"
Dick (meeting his mentor's eyes): "Nothing."
Tim (stepping forward): "Nothing? Dick, Deathstroke doesn't offer anything without wanting a price in return! He—"
Dick (voice firm): "Nothing. He was honest and upfront about it. He wanted nothing in return. All he offered was training. Real training. Not to make me a villain but to make me better at what I already did. To teach me how to be effective without compromising who I was. To show me that there's more to this life than Batman's way or no way."
The words hung in the air like an accusation.
Dick: "If there was anything he wanted in exchange, it was for me to carry on what he built. Not as Deathstroke, that name dies with him. But as something new. Something mine. Take the skills, the knowledge, the reputation, and use them however I saw fit. Hero, vigilante, mercenary, something in between? He didn't give a fuck, as long as I was the best at it."
Silence.
Again.
No one dared speak.
Dick's voice dropped, becoming something almost sad.
Dick: "I won’t lie, Bruce. You—", he looked at Bruce, "—gave me a home, a purpose, a second chance in life after my parents died. But he—", his gaze distant, thinking of Slade, "—gave me a choice. To be who I wanted to be away from the Bat's shadow. To be someone other than Batman's first protégé. Someone who wasn't defined by your legacy."
Bruce looked like he'd been physically struck.
The silence stretched, heavy with implications none of them wanted to examine.
Then Artemis turned to Zatanna's cell, voice careful.
Artemis: "And you knew about this?"
Zatanna (wiping her tears, voice steady now): "I did. We made a pact. His secrets are my secrets. Mine are his."
Raquel (stepping forward): "And what about us? Your friends? Your family?"
Zatanna (voice hard): "Like any of you would understand what we had to go through. The choices we had to make. The lines we had to walk."
She stood, facing them all with something like defiance.
Zatanna (glaring at Doctor Fate): "And don't you dare give me that 'the world needs the Lord of Order' bullshit. You took away a fourteen-year-old's father. Made her watch helplessly as she saw her dad give up his life to save her. Some 'Lord of Order' you are."
Doctor Fate (voice echoing with hurt, Giovanni's hurt): "Zatanna—"
Zatanna (voice breaking again): "I can feel him in there. My dad. Trapped. Screaming. Wanting to comfort me, to tell me he loves me, to be my father… But he can't because you won't let him! You use his body like a puppet and won't even let him speak to his own daughter!"
She slammed her fist against the cell barrier, magic flaring.
Zatanna: "So yeah. I learned dark magic. Studied with Constantine. Hunted demons. Got my hands dirty with the kind of spells that would make the League uncomfortable. Because I refuse to be helpless again. Refuse to watch someone I love sacrifice themselves because I wasn't powerful enough to stop it."
Her eyes found Dick's across the corridor.
Zatanna: "And if that makes me dangerous, if that makes me someone you can't trust, then fine. At least I'm dangerous enough to protect the people I love. At least I'm strong enough to make my fucking own choices."
The corridor fell silent again.
Two people.
Partners, lovers, home to each other. There they stood in separate cells, having just laid bare their souls to a room full of heroes who didn't know how to respond.
Barry (finally, carefully): "This is... Holy shit this is a lot to process."
Oliver (running a hand through his hair): "Understatement of the century."
Clark (voice measured): "What you've both described… The training, the dark magic, the choices you've made… They're concerning. Not because we don't trust you, but because we're worried about where this path leads."
Diana (nodding): "Power without wisdom is dangerous. The dark arts corrupt. And working with someone like Deathstroke—"
Dick (cutting her off): "Has made me better. More effective. More alive than I've been in years. I haven't killed anyone. Haven't crossed the lines that matter. But I'm also not limiting myself to methods that get people killed while we debate ethics."
Batman (voice cold): "And when you have to choose? When Slade asks you to cross those lines? What then?"
Dick (meeting his eyes): "Then I walk away. That was always been the deal. My terms. My boundaries. He respects them or I'm gone."
Jason (bitter laugh): "And you actually believe that? That Deathstroke would just let you walk away?"
Dick: "He already had. Because unlike our dysfunctional Family, Jay? He doesn't try to control me. Doesn't try to make me into something I'm not. He offered training, I accepted. If I want out, I'm out. No guilt trips, no manipulation, no 'you owe me'."
The accusation in those last words was clear.
Bruce's jaw tightened, but he didn't respond.
Kaldur (voice calm, trying to be the voice of reason): "Regardless of the circumstances, you both kept significant secrets from the Team and the League. Secrets that could have endangered missions, compromised operations—"
Zatanna (sharp): "Like the secret mission where you went undercover with the Light? Where Dick planned everything and carried the weight alone while you played villain? Where Artemis had to fake her death and Wally had to convince everyone that he was grieving? Those kinds of secrets?"
Kaldur (falling silent): "..."
Zatanna: "Or should we talk about how the League knew about the meta-human trafficking but couldn't act because of politics? How many people died while you waited for authorization? How many children were sold into slavery because the Justice League was too concerned with jurisdiction?"
M'gann (voice small): "That's not—we tried—"
Zatanna: "Did you? Or did you just tell yourselves you tried while people suffered? Dick and I? We went out and did something. Saved actual lives. Made actual differences. Without asking permission. Without waiting for committees to approve."
Cassie (stepping forward): "But at what cost? Working with Deathstroke? Learning dark magic? How long before you cross lines you can't come back from?"
Dick (voice tired): "We've been walking that line for months. Neither of us has crossed it. Neither of us has compromised who we are. We're just willing to operate in gray areas the League pretends don't exist."
Bart (vibrating anxiously): "But dude, this is Deathstroke. He's killed people. Like, lots of people. How do you know he's not manipulating you?"
Dick: "Because I'm not a dumbass, Bart. I went into this with my eyes open. Set boundaries. Maintained them. And if Slade ever tries to cross them, I walk. Simple as that."
Damian (scoffing): "You speak as if you have leverage. As if Deathstroke wouldn't simply eliminate you if you became inconvenient."
Dick (looking at the twelve-year-old): "Slade's not Ra's al Ghul, Damian. He doesn't kill people for leaving. He's a professional. He sees me as his... partner now. Not his property."
The word partner sent ripples through the room.
Jason: "Partner. You're partners with Deathstroke."
Dick (meeting his eyes): "I guess so, for certain operations, so long as we stay within my boundaries."
Tim (voice tight): "And Zatanna? What's her role in all this?"
Zatanna: "I'm Dick's partner. Slade might be his partner in operations but I’m his partner in everything. I knew what he was doing, supported his choice, and he supported me when I made my own parallel journey with Constantine."
Barbara (speaking for the first time): "The demon hunting. The dark magic. That's what you've been doing while Dick trained with Slade?"
Zatanna: "Yes. Learning to be strong enough to never feel helpless again. To never watch someone sacrifice themselves because I wasn't powerful enough to protect them."
Duke (quietly): "That's... actually kind of beautiful. In a terrifying way."
Stephanie (elbowing him): "Not helping."
Kate Kane (arms crossed): "So what now? What's the play here? You've both admitted to months of secret operations with known criminals. The League can't just let that slide."
Dick (voice flat): "Then don't. Do what you have to do. Strip my Justice League access. Remove my Team affiliation. I don't need your approval to be effective."
Zatanna: "I accepted the membership offer to the Justice League to honour my father's legacy. But if the League can't accept that sometimes the rules need to be bent to actually help people? Then maybe I don't belong here."
Clark (voice firm): "Now wait, no one's talking about expulsion—"
Diana: "But we do need to address this. Establish boundaries. Ensure this doesn't happen again."
Dick (bitter laugh): "Boundaries? Like the boundaries that kept the League from stopping meta-human trafficking? Like the boundaries that get people killed while you debate ethics?"
Barry (defensive): "That's not fair—"
Dick: "Isn't it? Tell me, Barry. When's the last time the League took action without spending days in committee? When's the last time you actually helped someone without checking if it was politically convenient?"
Hal (stepping forward): "Hey, we save the world on a regular basis—"
Dick: "You save the world from big threats. Alien invasions. World-ending scenarios. But the small stuff? The trafficking, the corruption, the everyday evil? You leave that to people like me. People willing to get their hands dirty."
The words struck home.
Because he was right.
The League focused on the big picture. The Team handled covert ops. But the grinding, everyday work of stopping human suffering? That often fell through the cracks.
Arthur/King Orin (voice measured): "What you're describing is… something else entirely. Operating outside legal frameworks."
Dick: "Isn't that what we all do? Or have you started getting warrants before fighting super-villains?"
Silence.
Bruce (finally speaking, voice controlled fury): "Enough. This isn't productive.", he looked at Dick, "You made your choices. Chose to train with a killer. Chose to lie to everyone who cares about you. Chose to become something I don't recognize."
Dick: “Oh, like you didn’t train with Ra’s al Ghul? With the League of Assassin’s? Like you’d be an effective Batman if it wasn’t for them.”
Gasps could be heard throughout the room, did Dick just…?
Bruce (clenching his fists): “Dick… You don’t… I had different circumstances–”
Dick: “For fuck’s sake, Bruce, can you stop being a hypocrite for at least once? Sure, the ‘ancient Tibetan monks’ taught you their centuries-old techniques–”
Clark’s eye twitched when he heard Dick say ‘ancient Tibetan monk techniques’.
Dick: “–but it was the training you had with Ra’s that made you effective. You took the same training they use to kill people but used it for something better, that’s the same thing I did. The only difference? You sought out Ra’s and the Assassins, I didn’t. Slade was the one who came to me, not the other way around.”
Dick: “You spent years with them, Bruce. I was only with Slade for months.”
Bruce could only glare at him, what else could he say?
Dick was right, and everyone knew it.
Dick (voice quiet, but with steel): "So yes, Bruce, I chose to become something you couldn't make me. I followed your playbook, the only difference? I choose not to be a hypocrite about it."
The two stared at each other, years of complicated history crackling between them.
Mentor and student.
Father and son.
And now, maybe, something irreparably broken.
Zatanna (voice cutting through): "Are we done here? Because honestly, I'm exhausted. Dick's exhausted. We've laid out everything. Made our confessions. If you're going to charge us, arrest us, whatever… just do it already."
Dinah (stepping forward, voice gentler): "No one's charging anyone. But you both need help. Therapy, maybe. Someone to talk to who can help you process—"
Zatanna (sharp laugh): "Therapy? You think therapy will fix the fact that my father's trapped in that shitty magic helmet? That Dick spent six months learning from an assassin? That we've both seen and done things that would give your therapists nightmares?"
Dick: "We don't need therapy. We need people to listen. To understand that sometimes the world isn't as black and white as the League pretends it is."
Conner (gruff): "We're trying to understand—"
Dick: "Are you? Because from where I'm standing, it looks like you're trying to fit us back into boxes we've outgrown. Trying to make us the people we were instead of accepting who we've become."
M'gann (telepathically, gentle): "We just want you safe. Both of you."
Zatanna (out loud): "We are safe. We have each other. We have skills and knowledge and power we didn't have before. We're not broken. We're evolved."
Wally (desperately): "But at what cost, Zee? Dick? You've both changed so much—"
Dick (softly): "People change, Wally. That's life. The question is whether you can accept the changes or whether you're going to keep trying to force us back into who we used to be."
The silence that followed was heavy with implications.
Finally, Billy (or Captain Marvel, looking uncomfortable): "Maybe... maybe we should take a break? Let everyone cool down? This is a lot to process and emotions are running high—"
Diana (nodding): "Agreed. We'll reconvene in three hours. Give everyone time to think."
Bruce (voice hard): "They stay in custody until we reach a decision."
Dick and Zatanna exchanged looks across the corridor.
No fear. No regret.
Just acceptance.
They'd said their pieces. Laid bare their souls.
Whatever came next, they'd face it.
Together.
Always together.
As the crowd dispersed, angry conversations already starting, Dick slumped back onto the bench.
The power-dampening cuffs hummed.
The cell walls pressed in.
But for the first time in months, maybe years, Dick Grayson felt something like peace.
He'd told the truth.
All of it.
And if they couldn't accept it?
Then maybe he didn't need their acceptance.
Across the corridor, Zatanna's voice came softly through the barrier.
Zatanna: "I love you. Whatever happens next."
Dick (smiling despite everything): "I love you too, Zee. I’m never leaving you alone."
Zatanna: "Same here."
And in their separate cells, surrounded by judgment and misunderstanding and the weight of impossible choices, they found comfort in each other.
Home.
Even in a cage.
Even at the end of everything.
Home.
[The Watchtower - Conference Room - Two Hours Later]
The Justice League met without Dick and Zatanna present.
The debate was heated.
Clark advocated for mandatory counseling and probationary status.
Diana pushed for temporary suspension pending psychological evaluation.
Bruce wanted a full investigation into every operation Dick had conducted with Slade.
Barry argued they were overreacting, that Dick and Zatanna were adults making their own choices.
Oliver pointed out the League had no moral high ground given their own gray-area operations.
J’onn expressed concern about both Dick's and Zatanna's mental states, suggesting trauma-informed care.
The vote, when it came, was split.
Six for suspension and mandatory counseling.
Five for probationary status with oversight.
Two abstentions (Barry and Oliver , who thought the whole thing was bullshit).
Bruce cast the tiebreaking vote.
Suspension. Mandatory psychological evaluation. Restricted access to League resources pending review.
In the holding cells, neither Dick nor Zatanna knew what judgment had been passed.
They sat in their separate cages, hands pressed against the barriers between them, drawing strength from each other's presence.
Whatever came next, they'd face it.
Together.
Always.
The breaking point had passed.
Now came the aftermath.
And neither of them was sure the League, the Team, or the Family would ever be the same ever again.
Chapter 20: "Exile"
Summary:
With both Dick and Zee still in custody, the League debates on their next course of action on what to do with the two...
Chapter Text
[The Watchtower - Conference Room - 9:34 AM]
The Justice League's primary conference room had never felt so divided.
Superman stood at the head of the table, the vote results displayed on the holographic screen behind him. Six for suspension. Five for probationary status. Two abstentions. Batman's tiebreaking vote for suspension and mandatory psychological evaluation.
The decision made. The judgment passed.
But the debate raged on.
Oliver (standing, voice sharp): "This is bullshit and you all know it! We're punishing them for making the same kinds of gray-area calls we make constantly!"
Diana (measured): "We have oversight. Accountability. They operated in complete secrecy—"
Oliver (cutting her off): "Because they knew we'd react exactly like this! With judgment and suspicion instead of actually listening!"
Arthur/King Orin (voice rumbling): "They worked with criminals. Deathstroke. Constantine. People who operate outside any moral framework—"
Barry (vibrating with frustration): "Constantine helps Doctor Fate with magical threats all the time! Half the League has worked with reformed villains! Why is this different?"
Dinah (trying to mediate): "Because it was secret. Because they lied—"
Barry: "Like we didn't lie to the entire Team about the undercover op with the Light? Like Batman doesn't keep secrets from all of us on a regular basis? Come on!"
Bruce (voice cold from his position at the far end of the table): "This isn't about secrets. It's about Dick compromising himself. About Zatanna studying magic that could corrupt her—"
Oliver (rounding on him): "Or maybe it's about you losing control over your first protégé and not being able to handle it!"
Bruce’s jaw tightened under the cowl, but he didn't respond.
Oliver: “Let’s face it, Bruce. You keep as many secrets from us than Dick. Hell, Dick was right when he said you’re a hypocrite since you are! You disapprove of him working with criminals but you have a longer history of working with them! You disapprove of Dick training with Slade for months but you trained with Ra’s for years! Like, what the hell? How long will we let this keep going on?”
Barry: “I’m with Ollie on this, Plastic Man was a criminal a real criminal before we inducted him to the League. The situations are different but the principle’s still the same. We let reformed criminals into the League when they turn good, but we draw the line when our own seeks out to learn from criminals to become more effective heroes? By that metric, we should kick out Pat! And under those same circumstances, Batman shouldn’t even be on the League since he’s been trained by Ra’s! How does that make sense?”
The room went silent.
Barry and Oliver made good arguments.
J’onn (voice gentle, trying to break the tension): "Perhaps we should consider their perspectives? Both have experienced significant trauma. Dick's leadership burden during the Light operation. Zatanna's loss of her father to Doctor Fate. They sought power to prevent future helplessness. Is that not understandable?"
Doctor Fate (voice resonating with both Nabu and Giovanni's pain): "The dark arts corrupt. Even with good intentions—"
Captain Marvel (surprisingly firm): "And so does power in general. So does being a hero. We all walk lines every day. Why are theirs different?"
Clark (trying to restore order): "The issue is whether they can be trusted. Whether they've compromised themselves beyond recovery—"
The conference room door slid open.
The Team filed in, followed by the Bat Family. They'd been waiting outside, listening through the walls (or in Tim's case, through hacked audio feeds).
Wally (stepping forward): "You can't be serious! You're actually suspending them? Dick and Zee?"
Clark (diplomatic): "It's only a temporary measure. Until we can ensure they haven't been compromised—"
Artemis (bitter laugh): "Compromised? Dick led us through the Reach invasion! Zatanna's saved this planet more times than I can count! And now you're treating them like criminals?"
Kaldur (voice measured but firm): "I hate to admit it, but I agree. While I understand the concern, the punishment seems disproportionate to the offense. They made choices. Kept secrets. But they haven't harmed anyone."
Tim (pulling up data on his wrist computer): "I did some checking. Cross-referenced known Deathstroke operations over the past six months with Dick's activities as Renegade.", he projected the data, "Every operation Dick participated in was non-lethal. Espionage. Counter-intelligence. Rescue operations. Nothing that violated his moral code."
Jason (arms crossed): "I can’t believe I’m saying this but the Replacement is right. I've been tracking Deathstroke's movements too through some… Connections I know and Renegade has a clean record. No kills. No civilian casualties. Just effective operations."
Bruce (voice tight): "That doesn't excuse—"
Jason (cutting him off): "Doesn't excuse what? Dick becoming his own person? Not following your rules? Learning from someone who might’ve actually trained or listened to him instead of just making him a pawn?"
The accusation hung heavy.
Barbara (wheeling forward): "I've been looking up the reports of magical disturbances. Cross-referencing Zatanna’s work with Constantine's known activities.", she displayed her findings, "Demon exorcisms. Banishments. Protecting civilians from supernatural threats the League doesn't even see. Dark magic? Yes. But used to save people."
Damian (surprisingly): "Father. You taught us that effectiveness matters. That results matter. By those metrics, Grayson and Zatara have been exemplary. More effective, arguably, than League operations constrained by bureaucracy."
Everyone stared at the twelve-year-old.
Damian (defensive): "What? I'm merely stating facts. Grayson's tactical efficiency increased measurably after his training with Wilson. His mission success rate—"
Stephanie (elbowing him): "We get it. You're impressed. Trying not to show it."
Damian (scowling): "I am not—"
Cassandra (signing, Barbara translating): "They're still them. Still good. Just different. We punish different?"
The simplicity of the statement cut through the complex debate.
Duke (nodding): "Cass had a point. Dick and Zee are still heroes. They just found different ways to be effective. Why is that a problem?"
M'gann (voice soft but firm): "I tried to read Dick's mind during the interrogation. The wards Zatanna placed prevented it, but I caught emotional echoes. There was no malice. No corruption. Just... exhaustion. Pain. The weight of trying to be everything to everyone."
Conner (gruff): "Same. I can hear heartbeats. Detect lies. Dick believed everything he said. So did Zatanna. They're not compromised. They're just done trying to fit into boxes that don't fit anymore."
Clark (looking around the room): "I understand everyone's feelings—"
Bart (vibrating anxiously): "Feelings? Man, you're talking about suspending two of the best heroes we have! Dick saved my timeline from existing! Zatanna's stopped apocalypses! And you're going to punish them for learning to be better?"
Diana (voice firm): "It's not about punishment. It's about ensuring they haven't crossed lines—"
Raquel (stepping forward): "Lines? Let's talk about lines, shall we? The League operates in gray areas constantly. Covert ops, epionage, wasn’t that why the Team was founded in the first place? To do the dirty work the League doesn't want to be publicly involved in? But when Dick and Zee do it, suddenly it's a problem?"
John Stewart (defensive): "We have oversight—"
Raquel: "So did they! They had each other! They set boundaries, maintained them, and by all accounts, they never crossed the lines that actually mattered!"
The debate intensified, voices rising, accusations flying.
Kate (cutting through the noise): "Can I ask a question? What exactly are you afraid of? That Dick will become ‘Deathstroke 2.0’? That Zatanna will turn evil witch? Or is it that they proved they don't need the League's approval to be effective?"
Batman (voice dangerously quiet): "This isn't about control—"
Kate (bitter laugh): "Isn't it? Because Bruce? From where I'm standing? It looks like you're punishing your son for growing beyond your influence. For choosing a path you didn't approve of."
Selina (who'd been silent, now speaking): "She's not wrong, Bruce. You've been trying to track Dick for months. Trying to figure out where he went, who he trained with. Not because you were worried about him. Because you couldn't control him anymore."
Bruce (jaw tight): "That's not—"
Selina (standing, moving to stand beside Kate): "Yes, it is. I know you, Bruce. I know how you operate. Dick stopped being your Robin, became Nightwing, and you've been trying to maintain influence ever since. But he's not yours anymore. He hasn't been for years. And you can't accept it."
The words landed like bombs.
Alfred's voice suddenly echoed through the conference room speakers, he'd apparently been monitoring from the Bat Cave.
Alfred (crisp British accent carrying disappointment): "Master Bruce. Miss Selina is correct. Master Dick has been seeking independence since he was fifteen. You have, regrettably, responded by attempting to maintain control through guilt, expectation, and emotional distance. Perhaps it is time to acknowledge that your first protégé has become his own man. One you no longer recognize because you were too focused on who you wanted him to be."
Silence.
Complete, devastating silence.
Even Batman had no response to that.
Tim (quietly): "Dick's been trying to tell us—to tell you—for years that he needed space to figure out who he was. We didn't listen. We just kept expecting him to be Robin, to be Nightwing, to be whatever we needed. And when he finally took that space? We're punishing him for it."
Wally (voice thick): "I almost died. Got erased from existence. And you know what Dick's first thought was when we brought me back? Guilt. Not relief, not joy, guilt. That his plan almost killed me. He's been carrying that weight alone because none of us helped him process it."
Artemis (tears forming): "After Kaldur went undercover and we faked my death, Dick held everything together. Made impossible calls. Sacrificed relationships, his own sanity, everything just to save us. To save the world. And we never thanked him. Never told him he did the right thing. We just moved on."
Kaldur (voice heavy): "She speaks truth. I was the one undercover. I was the one doing terrible things. But Dick carried the weight of that operation. Planned every detail. Lived with the knowledge that if he failed, I would be lost forever. That burden should have been shared. Instead, we let him bear it alone."
M'gann (tearing up now): "And Zee? God, Zee. She lost her father at fourteen. And we were there when we watched him sacrifice himself to save her. And we just... we let Doctor Fate keep him. Let him stay trapped in that helmet. Because it was convenient. Because having a Lord of Order on the League was more important than a girl getting her father back."
Doctor Fate (voice echoing with Giovanni's anguish): "I—we—"
Zatanna's earlier words echoed in everyone's minds:
"You took away a fourteen-year-old's father. Made her watch helplessly as she saw her dad give up his life to save her."
The weight of that settled over the room like a shroud.
Clark (voice heavy): "We've... We’ve made mistakes. In how we handled both of them. In the expectations we placed. The support we didn't provide."
Diana (nodding slowly): "Perhaps suspension is not the answer. Perhaps what they need is understanding. Support. Space to be who they've become without judgment."
Barry (firm): "They need us to trust them. To accept that they made choices we don't fully understand but that don't make them wrong."
Bruce (finally, voice rough): "And if those choices lead them down darker paths? If working with Deathstroke, studying dark magic, operating outside League oversight eventually compromises them?"
Jason (bitter): "Jesus fuck, Bruce, you really are stubborn–
Tim: “Jason–”
Jason: “Don’t ‘Jason’ me, Replacement. Bruce needs to fucking get this into his thick skull because If something like that does happen? Then we deal with it. If it happens. But you don't get to punish people for hypothetical futures, Bruce. That's not justice. That's paranoia."
The debate continued, voices overlapping, emotions running high.
No one noticed the subtle alarm that had started flashing on the auxiliary monitors.
No one noticed the Watchtower's security systems registering an unauthorized access.
Not until the main alarm blared.
Computer: “ALERT! ALERT! DECK 7 - HOLDING CELLS, BREACHED! ALERT! ALERT! UNAUTHORIZED ZETA TUBE ACTIVATION!”
Everyone froze.
The heroes poured out of the conference room, rushing toward the Zeta Tube bay.
But they were too slow.
[The Watchtower - Main Zeta Tube Bay - 9:47 AM]
The Zeta Tubes were already glowing, energy cycling up for transport.
On the platform stood Dick and Zatanna.
No more power-dampening cuffs. No restraints. Dick's new skillset had made short work of the locks. And months of studying dark arts and wards had taught Zatanna exactly how to bypass the League’s security systems, should the need arise.
Dick was still in his Renegade outfit but without the weapons or the mask. Zatanna in her usual attire.
They looked tired. Defiant. Free.
The League, Team, and Bat Family skidded to a halt at the bay entrance.
Clark (hand raised, placating): "Wait! Don't! We can talk about this!"
Dick (voice calm, final): "We're done talking, Clark. We said our piece. You made your judgment. Now we're making ours."
Bruce (stepping forward): "Dick. Please. Don't do this. Don't run—"
Dick (looking at his mentor with something like pity): "I'm not running, Bruce. I'm choosing. Choosing not to be judged by people who don't understand. Choosing not to wait for a verdict from a League that's already made up its mind."
Zatanna (hand in Dick's): "We're not criminals. We're not compromised. We're just people who made hard choices and refuse to apologize for them anymore."
The Zeta Tubes hummed louder, charge building.
Wally (desperate, stepping forward): "Dick, please! Where will you go? What will you do?"
Dick (small smile): "Figure it out. Like I always do. But this time, on our terms."
Artemis (tears streaming): "We can fix this! The League can—"
Zatanna (voice soft): "There's nothing to fix, Artemis. This is who we are now. Either you accept it or you don't. We're done trying to fit into boxes we've outgrown."
Tim (voice breaking): "You're really leaving? Just like that?"
Dick (looking at his successor): "Not leaving. Just... stepping back. From the League. From the Team. From trying to be everyone's solution. We need time. Space. To figure out what comes next."
Kaldur (measured): "And you believe running is the answer?"
Zatanna: "We're not running. We're choosing. There's a difference."
The Zeta Tubes were reaching full charge.
Computer: “Zeta Tube, priming.”
Bruce (voice hard): "If you do this, there will be consequences. Leaving League custody, absconding before judgment—"
Zatanna (cutting him off): "Then add it to the list of things we're apparently guilty of. We'll survive."
M'gann (telepathically, desperate): "Please don't go. We love you. Both of you. We can work through this—"
Dick (out loud, so everyone could hear): "We love you too. All of you. But love isn't enough when it comes with conditions. When it requires us to be who we were instead of who we've become."
Conner (voice rough): "So that's it? You're just done? With the Team? With us?"
Zatanna (firm): "We're done trying to explain ourselves to people who've already decided we're wrong. We're done carrying everyone else's expectations. We're done being sorry for becoming better."
The Zeta Tubes flashed.
Computer: “Zeta tube, ready.”
Jason (stepping forward): "Dick… If you're really doing this? If you're really walking away—"
Dick (meeting his resurrected brother's eyes): "Yeah?"
Jason (slight smile): "Shit. Don't let them make you feel guilty for it. I learned from you that I didn't owe Bruce anything. That I could choose my own path. Time you followed your own advice."
Something passed between them. Understanding. Respect. Brotherhood.
Dick (nodding): "Thanks, Jay."
Flash (last desperate attempt): "Dick. Zatanna. If you need help, if you need anything—"
Zatanna (smiling): "We know, Barry. Thank you, but we've got each other. That's enough."
The Zeta Tubes flared.
Computer: “Recognized. Nightwing, B-0-1. Zatanna Zatara, 2-5.”
Dick (with voice deep): “Computer, update designation B-0-1 to Renegade.”
Zatanna (with the same look in her eyes): “Computer, same here. Update designation 2-5 to Sorceress.”
Computer: “Acknowledged. Designations Updated. Renegade, B-0-1. Sorceress, 2-5.”
Golden light enveloped them.
Bruce: “NO!"
Bruce lunged forward, hand reaching—
Too late.
They were gone.
The Zeta Tube bay fell silent except for the hum of residual energy dissipating.
Everyone stood frozen, staring at the empty platform where Dick Grayson and Zatanna Zatara had stood moments before.
Wally (voice hollow): "They're really gone."
Artemis (sobbing): "We drove them away. We judged them instead of listening—"
Tim (pulling up his wrist computer, frantically): "I'm tracking the transport—they went to—", he stopped, "Shit. The transport log's been wiped. No destination recorded. I can't track them."
M'gann (telepathically scanning): "I can't sense them. They're... gone. Really gone."
Clark (running a hand through his hair): "We need to find them. Make sure they're safe—"
Oliver (bitter): "Clark, maybe we should just leave them alone. Let them have the space they clearly need. That we should've given them months ago."
Bruce (voice dangerously quiet): "They're in danger. Alone. Without League resources—"
Selina (sharp): "They have each other, Bruce. And honestly? That's probably more reliable than this organization right now."
The words cut deep.
Because she was right.
The League? The Team? The Family? They'd failed Dick and Zatanna. Not through malice, but through misunderstanding. Through fear. Through the inability to accept that people they loved had changed.
And now? Those people were gone.
Barbara (voice quiet): "What do we do now?"
Bruce (jaw tight): "We find them. We bring them back—"
Jason (cutting him off): "You don't get it, do you? They don't want to be found, jackass! They don't want to be brought back. They want to be left alone."
Bruce (rounding on him): "They're in danger—"
Jason (stepping forward): "They're free! You stubborn asshole! For the first time in years, they're making their own choices without everyone watching, judging, expecting! Maybe that's exactly what they need."
Kate (nodding): "We pushed them to this. We drove them away with judgment and suspicion. The best thing we can do now is give them space."
Clark (struggling with this): "But if they need help—"
Barry (firm): "Then they'll ask for it. They know how to reach us. They chose not to. We need to respect that."
The League stood in the Zeta Tube bay, facing the consequences of their judgment.
Two of their best, two heroes who'd saved the world multiple times, were gone.
Not dead. Not captured. Not compromised.
Just gone.
By their own choice.
Because sometimes, the people you love outgrow the roles you've assigned them.
And you have to let them go.
Even when it hurts.
[Gotham City - 11:23 AM]
The Zeta Tube deposited Dick and Zatanna in the same nondescript abandoned telephone booth in that Gotham alleyway. From there, they moved to a secret safehouse in Gotham's Diamond District.
Not Dick's apartment. Not Zatanna's. Somewhere new.
A safehouse Dick had set up months ago during one of his training sessions with Slade just in case he ever needed a place the League couldn't track.
They stood in the empty living room, adrenaline fading, the reality of what they'd just done settling in.
Zatanna (voice small): "We really did it. We left."
Dick (pulling her into his arms): "Yeah. We did."
Zatanna (burying her face in his chest): "They're going to hate us."
Dick (holding her tight): "Let them. Either way, we did what we needed to do."
They stood like that for a long moment, processing, coming down from the high of defiance and escape.
Finally, Dick pulled out his phone. One of several burner cells he'd acquired during training. Untraceable.
He dialed a number from memory.
Three rings.
Unknown Number: "Took you long enough."
Dick (slight smile): "Hey, Slade."
Slade's voice came through clear, amused.
Slade: "Let me guess. The League didn't take your confession well?"
Dick: "That's an understatement. They voted to suspend us. Mandatory psych eval. Restricted access to resources."
Slade: "And you, being the stubborn bastard I trained, said 'fuck that' and walked out."
Dick (laughing despite everything): "More or less. Zatanna helped with the security systems."
Slade: "Good girl. I'm impressed."
Zatanna (calling out so he could hear): "Don't get used to it, Wilson."
Slade: "Wouldn't dream of it, Sorceress.", a pause, "Right, you two need a place to lay low?"
Dick: "For a while. Until things cool down. Until we figure out next steps."
Slade: "Send your location. I'll have Wintergreen set you up with everything you need. Secure place. Resources. New identities if necessary."
Dick rattled off the safehouse address.
Slade: "Got it. Wintergreen will be there in two hours with supplies. Food. Gear. Anything you need."
Dick (throat tight): "Thanks, Slade. For everything."
Slade: "Don't mention it, kid. You're my partner now. That means I've got your back.", another pause, "Both of you. Tell Zatanna she's under my protection now too. Anyone comes for either of you, they deal with me."
Zatanna (tears forming): "Thank you."
Slade: "You're welcome. Now get some rest. You both sound like shit. Wintergreen will handle everything. And Dick?"
Dick: "Yeah?"
Slade: "I'm proud of you. You stood your ground. Refused to compromise who you've become. That takes guts."
Dick (voice rough): "Learned from the best."
Slade: "Fuck yeah you did. Now go. Rest. We'll talk strategy later."
The line went dead.
Dick set down the phone and looked at Zatanna.
They were alone. Cut off from the League. The Team. The Family.
But they had each other.
And apparently, they had Slade and Wintergreen watching their backs.
It wasn't perfect.
It wasn't what they'd planned.
But it was theirs.
Zatanna (voice quiet): "What do we do now?"
Dick (pulling her toward the bedroom): "Now? We sleep. We recover. We figure out who we are when we're not trying to live up to anyone else's expectations."
Zatanna (following him): "And after that?"
Dick (turning to face her, cupping her face): "After that, we build something new. Something that's ours. No League oversight. No Team expectations. No Family judgment. Just us, making our own choices."
Zatanna (tears streaming): "That sounds terrifying."
Dick (wiping her tears): "It does, doesn't it?", he smiled, "But we'll figure it out. Together."
Zatanna (pulling him down for a kiss): "Together."
They fell into bed, exhausted, emotionally wrung out, but free.
For the first time in months, years, maybe? They weren't carrying anyone else's expectations.
Weren't trying to be heroes the League approved of.
Weren't compromising who they were to fit into boxes that no longer fit.
They were just Dick and Zatanna.
Partners.
Lovers.
Home.
And whatever came next, whatever consequences their choice brought, they'd face it.
Together.
Always together.
Outside the safehouse, Gotham's morning traffic hummed. The city moved on, unaware that two of its heroes had just walked away from everything they'd known.
In the Watchtower, the League debated. The Team grieved. The Family struggled to process.
But in that small apartment, Dick Grayson and Zatanna Zatara slept peacefully.
Free.
Finally, blessedly free.
And somewhere in the city, in a secure location known only to a few, Slade Wilson smiled.
Wintergreen approached, carrying supplies.
Wintergreen: “Right, this should cover everything they need for two weeks. Long enough for us to relocate them.”
Wintergreen (sighing): "The kids really did it. Left everything behind."
Slade (nodding): "They did. I’m proud of them."
Wintergreen: "What's the play now?"
Slade (standing): "Now? We make sure they survive the fallout. Keep them safe until they figure out what comes next. And if the League comes looking?", he checked his weapons, "We remind them that some bridges, once burned, can't be rebuilt."
Wintergreen (slight smile): "You've gone soft in your old age."
Slade (not denying it): "Maybe. Maybe getting estranged from Grant and Rose, or losing Jericho did that to me. Or maybe I just recognize when someone deserves a chance at the life I never got, nor was I able to give to my own children. Freedom. Choice. Someone who actually gives a damn."
Wintergreen (clapping his shoulder): "You're a good man, Slade Wilson. Even if you won't admit it."
Slade (gruff): "Don't spread that around. Bad for my reputation."
Wintergreen (laughing): "Wouldn't dream of it."
They left to prepare the supplies, to ensure Dick and Zatanna had everything they needed to survive on their own.
Because sometimes, the greatest gift you can give someone is the freedom to become who they're meant to be.
Even if it means walking away from everything they've known.
Even if it means burning bridges that can never be rebuilt.
Even if it means choosing themselves over everyone else's expectations.
Dick and Zatanna had made that choice.
Now they'd live with the consequences.
Together.
Always.
And honestly?
They wouldn't have it any other way.
Chapter 21: "In The Gray"
Summary:
Dick and Zee's life, three months into their exile...
Chapter Text
[Belgrade - Abandoned Factory - 2:47 AM - Three Months Into Exile]
The human trafficking ring never saw them coming.
Renegade moved through the darkness like a wraith, enhanced senses tracking seventeen hostiles across three floors. His tactical gear—black and red, sleek and efficient—blended perfectly with the shadows.
Beside him, Sorceress wove through the building's blind spots, purple-black magic suppressing security systems, creating pockets of silence where alarms should be screaming.
They'd done this dozens of times now. Perfected it. Made it art.
Slade's voice crackled through the comms, monitoring from a safehouse three miles away.
Slade: "Thermal shows twenty-three potential hostages at the basement. Guard rotation changes in four minutes. That's your window."
Wintergreen's British accent followed.
Wintergreen: "Security's tough, kids. These aren't amateurs. Be careful."
Dick (subvocal): "Copy. Sorceress, you've got the wards?"
Zatanna's voice came back, steady, confident.
Zatanna: "Already dismantling them. Whoever set these up knew what they were doing, but they're not as good as the shit Constantine made me do. Thirty seconds."
Dick checked his escrima sticks, fully charged, Slade's upgraded design humming with lethal potential he'd never use. The Glock at his hip remained a last resort. Four months of operations, and he'd never fired it at a person.
Non-lethal. Always non-lethal. That's the line.
The factory's magical wards shimmered and collapsed, Zatanna's counter-spell elegant and precise.
Zatanna: "We're clear. Let's move."
They split up, Dick taking the upper levels while Zatanna descended to the basement.
The first guard never knew what hit him, Dick's escrima stick connected with the pressure point Slade had spent weeks drilling into him, and the man dropped, unconscious before his body registered pain.
One down. Sixteen to go.
Dick moved like violence made elegant. Every technique Slade taught him, every lesson Bruce had drilled into him as Robin, combined into something new. Something more.
Not Batman's protégé. Not Deathstroke's apprentice. Renegade. His own creation.
Three more guards went down in quick succession, throat strikes, nerve clusters, joint manipulations that would leave them hurting for weeks but alive. Always alive.
Slade: "Clean work. You're getting scary good at this."
Dick (grim smile behind his mask): "I learned from a scary good teacher."
Below, Zatanna reached the basement. Twenty-three people, mostly women and children, all meta-human based on the power-dampening collars, were huddled in cages like animals.
Her magic screamed at the injustice. The darkness she'd learned from Constantine begged to be unleashed, to make the traffickers suffer.
But she held it in check. Controlled. Refined.
Power without wisdom is destruction. Control is everything.
Zatanna (hands glowing with purple energy, speaking words that made reality bend): "Skcol nepo. Sralloc kaerb. Evig meht modeerf."
The cage locks clicked open. The power-dampening collars shattered.
Twenty-three pairs of eyes stared at her, terrified, hopeful, desperate.
Zatanna (voice gentle, switching to English): "It's okay. You're safe now. I'm getting you out of here."
A little girl, maybe seven years old? With scales covering her arms stepped forward.
Little Girl (voice small): "Are you an angel?"
Zatanna (kneeling, something cracking in her chest): "No, sweetheart. Just someone who gives a damn."
She pulled out a burner phone, one of the dozens Wintergreen kept them supplied with, and dialed a number Constantine had given her. A network of safe houses, refugee organizations, people who helped meta-humans disappear when they needed to.
Constantine (over the phone): "Zat-Zat. Tell me you've got good news."
Zatanna: "Twenty-three rescued. Mostly kids. They need transport, medical attention, new identities."
Constantine: "Alright. I got your coordinates. Van'll be there in ten minutes."
The phone beeped with incoming data.
Zatanna: "Thanks, John."
Constantine: "Don't mention it, luv. That's three rings you've taken down this month. You're making me look bad."
Zatanna (slight smile): "That's not hard to do."
Constantine: "Rude. But fair. Get those people out safe. I'll handle the rest."
The line went dead.
Above, Dick had cleared the upper levels. Seventeen guards down, all breathing, all alive. He moved to the roof access, where their extraction point waited.
Dick: "Upper levels secure. Sorceress, status?"
Zatanna: "Hostages freed. Constantine's sending transport. We've got eight minutes."
Slade: "Local authorities just got an anonymous tip about the factory. Police will be there in fifteen. You need to move. Now."
Dick and Zatanna rendezvoused at the main entrance, twenty-three rescued meta-humans following Zatanna like she was, indeed, an angel.
The van arrived, unmarked, driven by one of Constantine's contacts. A woman with kind eyes and scarred hands who asked no questions, just loaded the victims with practiced efficiency.
Little Girl (before boarding, turning back to Zatanna): "Will I see you again?"
Zatanna (kneeling one last time): "Maybe. But even if you don't, remember, you're not alone. There are people fighting for you. For all of you. Always."
The girl hugged her, fierce and desperate, then climbed into the van.
As it pulled away, sirens began to wail in the distance.
Slade: "Time to go. Exfil point is two blocks north. Bishop’s already on site."
Wintergreen: “Bird’s ready to go, kids. Don’t keep me waiting too long, I’m not getting any younger here.”
Dick and Zatanna ran, vanishing into Belgrade’s pre-dawn streets like ghosts.
Behind them, police would find seventeen unconscious guards, evidence of human trafficking, and empty cages.
Another victory. Another operation. Another choice in giving the enslaved a new life.
[Safehouse - Belgrade - 4:23 AM]
The safehouse was modest, two rooms, basic amenities, nothing that would draw attention. Wintergreen had set it up weeks ago, one of dozens scattered across Europe.
Dick collapsed onto the couch, adrenaline finally fading. A few of his muscles ached, one guard had gotten lucky with an elbow strike but the serum was already working in knitting together the damaged tissue.
Zatanna fell beside him, magically exhausted. Dismantling those wards, transporting twenty-three people's fear and hope through protective spells, and maintaining shields had drained her reserves.
They sat in silence, breathing hard, coming down from the mission high.
Finally, Dick spoke.
Dick: "Twenty-three people. Twenty-three lives saved."
Zatanna (leaning against him): "That the League would've spent days getting authorization to rescue. If they even found out about them."
Dick (bitter): "But we're the ones who need supervision. Who can't be trusted."
Zatanna (lacing her fingers with his): "Their loss. Our gain."
They sat like that for a while, just existing, letting the weight of what they'd done settle.
Wintergreen (over comms): "Good work, you two. Transport's ready when you are. Next stop: Glasgow. Got reports of demonic activity and Constantine wants Sorceress to help handle it."
Zatanna (groaning): "When?"
Wintergreen: "Two days. Gives you time to rest and resupply. Slade's handling a job in Berlin tomorrow, but he doesn't need backup. Consider it downtime."
Dick: "Copy that. We'll be ready."
The comms went silent.
Dick pulled Zatanna closer, pressing a kiss to her hair.
Dick: "Shower. Food. Sleep. In that order."
Zatanna (already half-asleep against him): "You shower. I'm comfortable."
Dick (laughing softly): "You're covered in dust and smell like demon wards."
Zatanna: "And you're covered in sweat and smell like violence. We're a perfect match."
Dick: "Fair point. Shower together then?"
Zatanna (teasing): “And?”
Dick: “You already know, I don’t need to say it.”
Zatanna (perking up): "Now you're talking my language."
[Six Hours Later - Watchtower - League Meeting]
The holographic display showed the Belgrade operation, security footage from nearby buildings, police reports, and witness statements.
Superman stood at the head of the table, exhaustion evident in every line of his body.
Clark: "That's the fourth trafficking ring taken down this month. Same MO. Precision strikes. No casualties. Evidence left for local authorities."
Bruce (studying the footage): "The combat style matches previous operations attributed to Renegade. Enhanced speed, non-lethal techniques, military efficiency."
Diana: "And the magical signature on those broken wards? That's sophisticated spell-work. Possibly Zatanna."
Barry (frustrated): "Of course it's them! Who else would rescue twenty-three people and disappear before we could even deploy?"
Oliver: "Maybe we should be thanking them instead of tracking them like criminals."
King Orin/Arthur: "They're operating without oversight—"
Oliver (cutting him off): "They're saving lives! More effectively than we have in months! When's the last time the League took down a trafficking ring? When's the last time we actually helped people instead of fighting aliens and super villains?"
The words stung because they were true.
J’onn: "Oliver raises a valid point. In the three months since Dick and Zatanna left, they've accomplished significant good. Trafficking rings dismantled. Demonic incursions stopped. Espionage operations that prevented international conflicts."
Dinah: "But they're doing it alone. Without support. What happens when they get in over their heads?"
Billy/Captain Marvel (quietly): "Maybe they're not alone? The operations show signs of coordination. Intelligence support. Someone's helping them."
Bruce's jaw tightened. He knew. Had known for weeks.
Bruce: "Deathstroke. And possibly Constantine for the magical operations. They've built their own network."
The weight of that settled over the room.
Clark: "We need to find them. Bring them in. Make sure they're safe—"
Oliver (skeptical): "And how's that worked out for us so far? Every time we get close, they're already gone. Face it, they don't want to be found."
Hal: "But they're our people. Dick’s the leader of the Team and Zatanna’s a Justice League member–"
Barry: "If we were really their people, we wouldn’t have driven them away with judgment and suspicion. Maybe it's time we admitted we failed them. And the best thing we can do now is leave them alone."
Diana (conflicted): "But if they need help—"
Billy/Captain Marvel (firm): "Then they'll ask. Dick knows how to reach us. Zatanna has League communication protocols memorized. They chose not to contact us. We could at least respect that."
The debate continued, circular, frustrating, leading nowhere.
Because the truth was, they had no way to track Dick and Zatanna. No way to force a confrontation.
The two had simply... vanished. Operating in the shadows, saving lives, and refusing to explain themselves to anyone.
[Mount Justice - Original Team Meeting - Same Time]
The original six sat in their old common room and struggled with their failure.
Wally (head in hands): "Three months. Three months since they left, and we're no closer to finding them."
Artemis (voice thick): "Maybe we're not supposed to. Maybe they want to be left alone."
Conner: "They're still saving people. The reports don't lie. Trafficking rings. Demon attacks. They're still helping."
M'gann: "But they're doing it alone. Without us. I can't sense them telepathically. Can't reach out. It's like they've disappeared."
Kaldur (measured): "Perhaps that is what they need. Distance. Space to become who they've chosen to be without our judgment."
Wally (looking up): "But they're our friends—"
Artemis (cutting him off): "Who we drove away. Who we judged instead of supporting. Face it, Walls. We failed them."
The words hung heavy.
Because she was right.
They'd all failed Dick and Zatanna. In different ways, for different reasons, but the result was the same.
Two of their own were gone. By choice. Because staying had become more painful than leaving.
Wally (voice breaking): "I miss them. God, I miss them so much."
Artemis (taking his hand): "Me too."
M'gann: "Every time I see a report about Renegade and Sorceress, I'm proud and heartbroken at the same time. They're doing good work. But they shouldn't have to do it alone."
Kaldur: "Perhaps they are not alone. Perhaps they have each other. And perhaps that is enough."
Conner (gruff): "Still sucks."
Kaldur (slight smile): "Yes. It does."
[Bat Cave - Family Meeting - Two Hours Later]
The Bat Family gathered around the computer, Bruce at the center, surrounded by his complicated legacy.
Tim (pulling up another report): "Glasgow demon attack, stopped by Sorceress and Constantine. Berlin espionage operation, successful extraction of an arms dealer informant attributed to Deathstroke and Renegade. They're everywhere and nowhere all at the same time."
Jason (arms crossed): "Good for them. They're doing what they want, how they want, without Bruce's approval."
Bruce (voice tight): "They're in danger—"
Jason (bitter laugh): "They're safer than they've ever been. No League oversight means no bureaucracy slowing them down. No Family judgment means no guilt holding them back. They're thriving, Bruce. Just not the way you wanted."
Damian (surprisingly): "Todd is correct. Grayson's tactical efficiency has increased measurably. His success rate is unprecedented. Whatever training Wilson provided, it was... effective."
Tim: "And Zatanna's magical abilities have grown exponentially. The spell-work in Glasgow was something that we haven’t seen her do in her time with both the Team and the League. She's become one of the most powerful practitioners on the planet."
Barbara (quiet): "They've become who they needed to be, away from us."
The words cut deep.
Stephanie: "Can we stop pretending this is about their safety? It's about control. Bruce can't accept that Dick doesn't need him anymore. The League and the Team can't accept that two of their members chose independence over oversight."
Bruce (jaw tight): "That's not—"
Cassandra (signing, Barbara translating): "Yes. It is. Let them go. Let them be free."
Duke: "Every time we track them, every report we file, we're proving they were right to leave. That we can't accept their choices."
Kate (leaning against the computer console): "So what's the play, Bruce? Keep tracking them? Keep trying to 'save' them from choices they're making with full awareness? Or do we finally accept that Dick Grayson isn't ours to control anymore?"
Selina (who'd been silent until now): "I vote for letting them live their lives. They're adults. They're effective. They're happy from what I can tell. The only people suffering here are us."
Jason: "I'm with Selina, I won't stand in the way of Dick and Zee's work. Whatever it is you—”, he gestured to Bruce, “—think about them, they’re still fighting the good fight without killing anyone. And that says a lot from me of all people!”
Kate: "Agreed, Bruce is just too stubborn to accept that."
Even Steph raised a hand.
Steph: “They're not killing anyone. They're saving lives. I won't argue against that."
That left Tim, Damian, Barbara, Cass, Duke, and of course, Bruce.
Then, Damian raised his hand.
Damian: "Grayson is a strong man, if there's anyone that Deathstroke cannot corrupt, I believe it's him."
Cass and Duke gave each other a glance, before inevitably raising their hands too.
7 to 3, the verdict stands.
Bruce stared at the screen, not bothering that a majority of his own Family voted against him. He just read another report, another operation, another success attributed to Renegade and Sorceress.
His first protégé, and the girl whose father wore the Helmet of Fate that Bruce promised to protect.
Gone.
By choice.
Because they, because he, had failed to understand.
Bruce (finally, voice rough): "Stand down active tracking. Flag their operations for monitoring only. No more pursuit."
Everyone stared at him.
Jason: "You're actually letting them go?"
Bruce (not looking at any of them): "I'm accepting that I can't force them back. That pursuing them only proves they were right to leave.", he paused, "If they need help, they know how to reach us. Until then... they've made their choice."
It wasn't forgiveness. Wasn't acceptance.
But it was acknowledgment.
And for Bruce Wayne, that was as close to letting go as he could manage.
[New York City - Greenwich Village - "John and Anna Zane Richardson’s" Apartment - Evening]
Dick, currently "John Richardson" - IT consultant, unlocked the apartment door, grocery bags in hand.
The space was modest. One bedroom, small kitchen, living room with a decent view. Nothing like Zatanna's old place or his Blüdhaven apartment.
But it was theirs. Under false names Wintergreen had created with such meticulous care that even Batman would struggle to trace them.
Zatanna, currently "Anna Zane Richardson" - freelance graphic designer, emerged from the bedroom in yoga pants and one of his shirts, hair damp from a shower.
Zatanna: "You got Japanese food?"
Dick (setting down the bags): "And that fancy ice cream you like. The one with the caramel swirl."
Zatanna (moving to help unpack): "Have I mentioned how much I love you?"
Dick (grinning): "Not in the last three hours. I was starting to worry."
Zatanna (swatting his arm): "You’re an ass."
Dick (pulling her in for a kiss): "This ass is only yours, babe."
Zatanna (laughing against his lips): "Smooth."
They moved around the kitchen with practiced ease, unpacking groceries, reheating leftovers, existing in the domestic normalcy they'd craved for months.
No League meetings. No Team emergencies. No Family drama.
Just Dick and Zatanna. John and Anna Richardson. Two people trying to build a life outside the masks.
Over dinner, excellent Japanese food from the place three blocks over, they talked about everything and nothing.
Zatanna: "Constantine called, he wants me in Dublin next week. Something about a possessed castle and tourists going missing?"
Dick: "I can come with you. Slade's got nothing lined up until the fifteenth."
Zatanna: "You don't have to—"
Dick (taking her hand): "I want to. Besides, possessed castles sound fun. Very Scooby-Doo, and Constantine still hasn’t paid me back that 20 pounds for that drink he got."
Zatanna (laughing): "Except the monsters are real and will actually try to kill us."
Dick: "Details, but honestly, I just want my money. I’m not letting Constantine die without paying me back."
They finished eating, cleaned up together, then collapsed onto the couch.
The TV played something mindless, a random Netflix series that neither was really watching. Zatanna's head rested on Dick's chest, his fingers playing with her hair.
Home.
Real home. Not a safehouse. Not a temporary location.
Home.
Dick (quietly): "Do you regret it? Leaving?"
Zatanna (not hesitating): "No. Do you?"
Dick (honest): "Sometimes I miss them. The Team. Wally's laugh. Kaldur's steady presence. Even Bruce's complicated attempts at affection.", he paused, "But I don't regret leaving. I don't regret choosing us over their expectations."
Zatanna (lifting her head to look at him): "We're doing good work. Saving lives. Making real differences. Without bureaucracy or judgment."
Dick: "We are. But it's lonely sometimes. Just the two of us against the world."
Zatanna (cupping his face): "We have Slade, Wintergreen, and Constantine. Not traditional support, but support nonetheless."
Dick (slight smile): "Never thought I'd count Deathstroke and John Constantine as friends."
Zatanna (laughing): "Life's weird."
Dick: "Yeah. It really is."
They kissed, soft and sweet, celebrating the life they'd built from the ashes of the old one.
When they pulled apart, Zatanna's expression turned serious.
Zatanna: "Eventually, we'll have to face them. The League. The Team. Your Family. We can't run forever."
Dick: "We're not running. We're just... choosing our moment. When we're ready. On our terms."
Zatanna: "And when will that be?"
Dick (honest): "I don't know. But until then, we keep doing what we're doing. Saving lives. Making differences. Being effective without compromising ourselves."
Zatanna: "Renegade and Sorceress."
Dick: "And John and Anna Zane Richardson."
Zatanna (smiling): "’The Richardson’s’, really? That’s the best you could come up with?"
Dick: "Hey! It’s not my fault ‘Richard’ could also be used as a surname, and there are a million other ‘John’s’ out there. We even know three directly!"
Zatanna: “Three?”
Dick: “John Stewart, John Jones, John Smith, John Constantine.”
Zatanna (Rolling her eyes): “That’s four babe. Not three.”
Dick: “My point stands, a million Johns!”
Zatanna: “Whatever, at least ‘Anna Zane’s’ a more sensible name.”
Dick (snorting): “Right, take the ‘Zat’ out of ‘Zatanna’, move it to the end and replace it with ‘Zane’. Very creative, babe.”
Zatanna: “Excuse me? I’ll have you know that my day job is being a ‘freelance graphic designer’! I’m all about creativity!”
Dick: “Whatever you say, ‘Anna Zane Richardson’.”
Zatanna (pouting, hitting him on his shoulder): “I hate you.”
Dick (pulling her back against him): "And I love you too. Both versions of you. Anna Richardson and Zatanna Zatara. The graphic designer and the Sorceress. All of you. But I kinda love Zatanna more."
Zatanna (laughing): "I love you too. John Richardson, Dick Grayson, Nightwing, Renegade. Every version. But my bet’s more on Dick than the others."
They fell silent, watching the TV, existing in domestic bliss.
Outside, New York City hummed with life. Millions of people going about their evenings, unaware that two of the world's most wanted heroes lived among them.
Somewhere in Gotham, the Bat Family struggled with loss.
Somewhere in the Watchtower, the League debated ethics and oversight.
Somewhere in Mount Justice, the Team mourned friends who'd chosen to leave.
But in that apartment, Dick Grayson and Zatanna Zatara were happy.
Free.
Complete.
And honestly?
That was worth everything they'd given up.
[Later - Bedroom - Midnight]
They lay in bed, tangled together, the New York skyline visible through the window.
Dick's phone buzzed on the nightstand. Text from Wintergreen.
(Wintergreen): "Job came through. London. Arms dealers. Your kind of work. Interested?"
Dick showed Zatanna the message.
Zatanna: "Your call. Though London's close enough to where Constantine wants me in Dublin. Could make a trip of it."
Dick (typing response): "We're in. Send details."
The response came immediately.
(Wintergreen): "Good. Details incoming. Transport arranged for the seventh. Don't die, it's terrible for the paperwork."
Dick (laughing): "I love that man."
Zatanna: "He's growing on me too. Like a fungus."
Dick (mock offense): "He's a decorated military veteran and skilled operative—"
Zatanna (covering his mouth with her hand): "Who threatens people with paperwork. Fungus."
Dick (pulling her hand away, kissing her palm): "Fair point."
They settled back into comfortable silence, the weight of the London job already being filed away for planning later.
Tomorrow they'd prep. Research. Train.
But tonight, they were just John and Anna. Dick and Zatanna. Two people who'd found each other in the darkness and refused to let go.
Zatanna (sleepily): "Thank you."
Dick: "For what?"
Zatanna: "For choosing this. Us. Even when it was hard."
Dick (holding her tighter): "Always. Every time. In every universe. I choose you."
Zatanna (voice thick with emotion): "Sap."
Dick: "Your sap."
Zatanna: "Yeah. Mine."
They drifted off to sleep, the New York night wrapping around them like a blanket.
Free.
Together.
Home.
And in the morning, they'd wake up and do it all again.
Save lives. Fight evil. Be effective without compromise.
Renegade and Sorceress.
John and Anna Zane Richardson.
Dick Grayson and Zatanna Zatara.
All of them. None of them. Something new.
And honestly?
They wouldn't have it any other way.
[Three Months Into Exile - Stats]
Operations Completed:
- 47 total missions
- 23 trafficking rings dismantled
- 940 people rescued
- 12 espionage operations (all non-lethal)
- 8 demonic incursions stopped
- 0 casualties
League Response:
- 23 tracked operations
- 0 successful intercepts
- Pursuit officially discontinued
- Monitoring only status active
Personal Status:
- Dick Grayson: Healthy, mentally stable, effective
- Zatanna Zatara: Healthy, magically powerful, confident
- Relationship: Strong, supportive, thriving
Support Network:
- Slade Wilson: Active partnership, monthly check-ins
- Wintergreen: Logistical support, handler duties
- John Constantine: Magical consultation, demon hunting partner
- Various underground contacts: Intelligence, safe houses, resources
Conclusion: Two former heroes, now operating independently, have found effectiveness, purpose, and happiness outside traditional superhero frameworks.
The League calls it exile.
They call it freedom.
And honestly?
The numbers speak for themselves.
Chapter 22: "Collision Course"
Summary:
Seven months into their exile, Dick and Zee (alongside Slade, Wintergreen, and Constantine) end up crossing paths with the Team as they clear a black site facility in Kaznia...
Chapter Text
[Kaznia - Black Site Facility - 3:47 AM - Seven Months Into Exile]
The facility was a nightmare made of concrete and steel.
Built into a mountain range on the Kaznian-Russian border, it existed on no maps, in no databases. A ghost operation funded by corrupt oligarchs and staffed by mercenaries who asked no questions.
Inside were forty-three meta-humans, ranging from children to adults, kept in power-dampening cells. Their abilities catalogued, their bodies tested, their freedom stolen.
And in the facility's basement: a hell-gate summoning circle, because apparently human trafficking wasn't evil enough.
Renegade crouched on a catwalk overlooking the main detention level, thermal imaging showing guard positions, patrol routes, and most importantly, the location of the hostages.
Beside him, Sorceress studied the magical signatures bleeding through the facility's walls.
Zatanna (voice tight): "That summoning circle is active. Not fully powered yet, but close. We've got maybe twenty minutes before it reaches critical mass."
Dick (checking his weapons): "Then we move fast. Slade, Constantine—status?"
Two hundred meters away, in the facility's eastern wing, Deathstroke and John Constantine prepared their own infiltration.
Slade (over comms): "In position. Eastern entrance secured. Four guards down, non-lethal ROE. We're ready to move on your signal."
Constantine (sounding slightly drunk, but he always did): "The magical wards here are nasty pieces of work. Whoever's running this show knows their occult theory. But I'm better. Give me three minutes and I'll have a path to the summoning chamber."
Wintergreen's voice crackled through from their mobile command center five miles out.
Wintergreen: "Thermal shows increased activity in the northern sector. Guards are rotating early. Someone might've triggered an alert."
Dick (adjusting his mask): "Then we go now. Sorceress, you're with me on hostage extraction. Slade, Constantine, you handle the hell-gate. Wintergreen, prep exfil for forty-three plus our team."
Wintergreen: "Bloody hell, that's a lot of bodies. I'll manage, but it'll be tight."
Dick (standing, escrima sticks in hand): "It always is."
Him and Zatanna dropped from the catwalk simultaneously, landing in perfect silence despite the twenty-foot drop. Enhanced reflexes and levitation spells made the impossible routine.
The first guard turned—
Dick's escrima stick caught him across the temple. Non-lethal. Always non-lethal. Even here. Even now.
Zatanna's magic swept through the corridor like a purple wave.
Zatanna (whispering): "Sdraug peels. Smrala etum."
Six more guards collapsed into sudden, irresistible sleep. Her control had grown precise over seven months, no excess power, no wasted energy, just pure effectiveness.
They moved through the facility like ghosts, leaving unconscious guards in their wake, approaching the detention cells where—
The facility's real alarms started blaring.
Not the ones they'd disabled. New ones. Different frequency. Emergency protocol.
Dick (cursing): "We're made. Move faster!"
But it wasn't the facility's security that burst through the northern entrance.
It was the Team.
[Detention Level - 3:52 AM]
The Bioship materialized outside the facility, and the entire Team poured out; original members and expanded roster, all of them.
Wally, Artemis, Kaldur, Conner, M'gann, Cassie (Sandsmark), La'gaan, Gar, Jaime, Karen, and Bart.
And behind them? The Bat Family. Tim, Jason, Damian, Stephanie, Cass (Cain), and Duke; Barbara providing mission oversight through comms.
They'd been tracking Renegade and Sorceress for months. Every operation. Every sighting. Building a pattern. Predicting likely targets.
And finally, they'd gotten it right.
Tim (voice sharp through his cowl's comms): "Bioship readings confirm Renegade and Sorceress are inside. Along with—", he paused, "Deathstroke and Constantine. They're all here."
Wally (vibrating with nervous energy): "Then what are we waiting for? Let's go get them!"
Kaldur (measured): "Our objective is to make contact. To talk. Not to engage in combat."
Jason (checking his weapons): "I still think we should just let them be."
Tim (sharp): "We're not here to fight. We're here to bring them home."
Damian (scoffing): "Grayson made his choice. Dragging him back against his will accomplishes nothing."
Jason (surprised): "Did the demon-spawn just say something reasonable?"
Damian (glaring): "I am capable of logic, Todd."
Barbara (monitoring over the comms, cutting through the bickering): "Focus. We're going in. Non-lethal engagement only. The goal is dialogue, not combat."
They breached the facility's northern entrance, moving with the coordination that came from years of partnership.
And ran directly into Renegade and Sorceress extracting the first group of hostages.
[Confrontation - 3:55 AM]
Time seemed to stop.
Renegade stood in the corridor, surrounded by ten rescued meta-humans (mostly children), escrima sticks in hand, mask obscuring his features but body language screaming recognition.
Sorceress beside him, hands glowing with purple energy, protective spells already forming around the hostages.
They stared at the Team. The Family. Everyone who'd been hunting them for seven months.
Wally (voice breaking): "Dick?"
Dick's hands tightened on his escrima sticks, but he didn't move.
Zatanna (voice carefully controlled): "You need to leave. We're in the middle of an operation."
Artemis (stepping forward): "An operation we can help with! Zee, please, just let us help!"
Zatanna (bitter laugh): "Help? Like you helped by judging us? By suspending us? By treating us like criminals?"
M'gann (telepathically reaching out): "Zee, please. We miss you, we want you to come home—"
Zatanna's wards flared, blocking the telepathic intrusion.
Zatanna (voice sharp): "Stay out of my head, M'gann. I mean it."
Dick (voice modulated by his mask but exhausted): "There are forty-three people in this facility who need extraction. There's an active hell-gate in the basement that will tear reality apart in—”, he checked his HUD, "—sixteen minutes. We don't have time for this."
Tim (stepping forward): "Then let us help! We can evacuate the hostages while you handle the magical threat—"
Dick (cutting him off): "We've got this. We don't need League interference."
Kaldur (voice calm): "We are not here as League representatives. We are here as your friends. Your family. Please, allow us to assist."
Conner (gruff): "And maybe after, we can actually talk. Like adults. Instead of you two running every time we get close."
Dick and Zatanna exchanged looks, seven months of partnership making communication effortless.
Dick (finally): "Fine. Evacuate the hostages. Get them to safety. But stay out of our way with the hell-gate. That's our operation."
Wally (relief flooding his features): "We can work with that."
But before anyone could move, Jason stepped forward, Red Hood helmet reflecting the facility's emergency lights.
Jason: "You sure about this Goldie? I’m all with you two but the others won’t give you up without a fight."
Dick (voice hardening): "They won’t let us do anything, Jay. We make our own choices now."
Jason (cocking his pistols, rubber rounds loaded: "Whatever you say, man."
The facility shook. A deep, resonating *boom* that came from below.
Constantine (over comms, panicked): "Uh, hello? We have a slight problem. The summoning's accelerating. Someone's actively channeling power to it. We've got maybe ten minutes, not twenty!"
Slade: "Constantine and I are engaging the summoners now. It's getting messy. Could use backup."
Dick (not hesitating): "Sorceress, with me. We're going to the basement."
Zatanna (already moving): "Team, Bat Family, get these people out. Now! Don't follow us down."
Artemis: "But—"
Zatanna (voice crackling with power): "I said DON'T FOLLOW! The magic down there will kill you if you're not protected. Only we can handle it!"
She grabbed Dick's arm, and purple energy enveloped them both.
*FLASH*
They were gone.
The Team and Bat Family stood in the corridor, surrounded by terrified hostages, alarms blaring, the facility shaking with magical feedback.
Wally (frustrated): "They just, they left! Again!"
Kaldur (firm): "Later. Right now, we have a mission. Evacuate these people. Move."
The Team split into extraction units with Wally and Bart using speed to shuttle hostages, M'gann providing telekinetic transport as Conner carried the victims on board, Artemis and the others were running security.
The Bat Family coordinated, years of training making them efficient even in chaos.
But all of them were thinking the same thing:
“That was Dick. That was Zatanna. Right there. And we couldn't reach them.”
[Basement Level - Summoning Chamber - 3:58 AM]
Dick and Zatanna materialized in hell.
The summoning chamber was massive, easily the size of a football field carved directly into the mountain. The hell-gate dominated the center, a swirling vortex of red and black that screamed with the voices of the damned.
Slade fought twelve summoners on the eastern side moving like the incarnate of death that he was, weapons flashing, bodies dropping (unconscious, not dead, Dick's influence showing even here).
Constantine stood in the western quadrant, hands glowing with golden magic, desperately maintaining a containment spell that was fracturing under the hell-gate's pressure.
Constantine (seeing them): "About bloody time! This thing's about to blow and take half of Kaznia with it!"
Zatanna (already assessing the magical structure): "The anchor points! There!", she pointed to four obsidian pillars surrounding the gate, "We collapse those!"
Constantine: "That’s fucking suicide Zat-Zat because they're warded against everything including nuclear weapons!"
Zatanna (grim smile): "Good thing I studied with the best paranoid drunk in the business."
Constantine (offended): "I resent that. I'm a functional drunk."
Dick (to Slade): "Need backup?"
Slade (ducking a spell that would've taken his head off): "Wouldn't say no!"
Dick launched into the fray, escrima sticks singing. Seven months of operations had made him lethal, precise, efficient, dare say even beautiful in the economy of his violence.
Every move Slade taught him, every lesson Bruce drilled into him, every instinct honed through months of gray-ops work combined into something that made even Deathstroke pause to appreciate.
This was what Slade had been trying to create, a warrior who could be effective without compromising his soul.
The summoners fell unconscious, restrained, but alive as Dick and Slade moved through them like a coordinated storm.
Meanwhile, Zatanna approached the first anchor pillar, hands blazing with purple-black energy.
Zatanna (voice resonating with power): "I MA ANNATAZ ARATAZ! RETHGUAD FO INNAVOIG! I DNAMMOC SIHT RALLIP OT LLAF!"
The pillar cracked.
But the backlash hit her like a physical force, sending her flying backward—
Dick caught her, enhanced speed getting him there just in time.
Dick (concerned): "You okay?"
Zatanna (blood trickling from her lip): "Peachy. Only three more to go."
Constantine (struggling with his containment spell): "Make it faster! I can't hold this much longer!"
The hell-gate pulsed, and a demon’s arm, massive, clawed, wrong, began pushing through the veil.
Dick (to Slade): "We've got incoming!"
Slade (reloading): "I see it. Constantine! Any bright ideas?!"
Constantine (voice strained): "Don't let it fully manifest! If it gets through completely, we're all fucked!"
Zatanna (standing, wiping blood): "Then I better hurry."
She moved to the second pillar, faster now, more desperate.
[Meanwhile - Ground Level]
The Team and Bat Family had evacuated thirty-eight of the forty-three hostages, loading them onto the Bioship with practiced efficiency.
But the facility was shaking. Magical energy bleeding upward, making reality flex in disturbing ways.
Wally (looking at the facility): "Something's wrong. Really wrong."
Tim (scanning with his cowl's instruments): "Massive energy spike in the basement. Magical signature is off the charts. Whatever they're doing down there—"
The facility convulsed. A deep, resonating roar that came from below.
M'gann (telepathic voice panicked): "I'm sensing something. Something terrible. It's trying to push into our world—"
Barbara (over comms): "The hell-gate. It's destabilizing! If they can't stop it—"
Jason (checking his weapons): "Then we go down there. We help them!"
Kaldur: "Zatanna said it would kill us—"
Jason (harsh): "So we die! Not the first time I did. Better than leaving them to face it all alone!"
Damian (surprisingly): "Todd is correct. Regardless of their choices, they remain family. We do not abandon family."
The Bat Family and Team exchanged looks.
A decision made without words.
Artemis: "Bioship, finish evacuating the hostages. We're going back in."
Bioship AI: "Acknowledged. Completing evacuation protocols."
They moved as one, rushing back into the facility, toward the stairs leading down to the basement.
Toward whatever hell was breaking loose.
[Summoning Chamber - 4:03 AM]
Three pillars down. One to go.
But Zatanna was bleeding, nose, ears, eyes. The magical backlash was tearing her apart from the inside.
Dick (desperate): "Zee, stop! You're killing yourself—"
Zatanna (voice raw): "One more. Just one more—"
The demon's arm was halfway through the gate now, clawing at reality, trying to rip its way into existence.
Constantine's containment spell shattered.
Constantine (collapsing): "FUCK!"
Slade (standing over him, weapons ready): "Not yet we're not."
The demon's head began pushing through—
And the Team burst through the basement entrance.
Wally, moving at super-speed, evacuating Constantine.
Conner, using his Kryptonian strength to physically hold back the demon's arm.
M'gann, adding her telekinetic power to slow its emergence.
The Bat Family spread out, providing covering fire, creating tactical advantages, helping despite the danger.
Dick (seeing them, something breaking in his chest): "We told you to stay back!"
Tim (Red Robin suit gleaming): "Yeah, well, we're bad at listening! Family trait!"
Zatanna (reaching the fourth pillar, barely standing): "Cover me. Thirty seconds."
Everyone, the Team, the Family, Slade, and Constantine formed a defensive line between her and the emerging demon.
An impossible partnership. Heroes and a mercenary. League-trained operatives and an occult detective. Everything, in all its complicated forms.
Zatanna (voice hoarse but determined): "YB YM REWOP! YB EHT THGIM FO YM SECROF! I DNAMMOC SIHT TSAL ROHCNA OT LLAF!"
The fourth pillar exploded.
The hell-gate collapsed.
The demon shrieked as it was sucked back into its own dimension.
Reality snapped back into place with a sound like breaking glass.
Silence.
Zatanna collapsed. Dick caught her before she hit the ground, cradling her against his chest.
Dick (desperate): "Zee? Zee! Stay with me—"
Zatanna (weak smile, blood on her lips): "I’m… I’m not dying that easily..."
M'gann (kneeling beside them): "Let me help—let me—"
Zatanna (hand raised weakly): "No telepathy. Just... need rest."
Constantine (being helped up by Wally): "She'll be fine. Just burned through about ten years' worth of magical reserves in five minutes. Gal’s an absolute mad woman.", he grinned, "Brings a tear to my eye."
The chamber fell silent except for heavy breathing and the settling of debris.
Everyone stared at each other, the Team, the Bat Family, Renegade, Sorceress, Deathstroke, and Constantine.
Seven months of separation. Seven months of judgment and exile.
And here they were, having just saved each other's lives.
Wally (finally): "So. That just happened."
Artemis (slight laugh): "Yeah. It really did."
Slade (holstering his weapons): "Well. This is cozy. Nothing like a near-apocalypse to bring people together."
Jason (glaring at him): "Don't push it."
Slade (grin): "Wouldn't dream of it, Red Hood."
Dick (helping Zatanna stand): "The hostages?"
Kaldur: "Safe. All forty-three evacuated to the Bioship. They're receiving medical attention."
Dick (nodding): "Good. That's... good."
Awkward silence stretched.
Tim (finally): "Dick. Zee. Please, can we just... talk? Really talk?"
Dick (looking at Zatanna, who nodded): "Not here. Not now. We need to debrief, check on the hostages, make sure the facility's secure—"
Wally (desperate): "Then after! After all that! Just... don't disappear again. Please."
Dick and Zatanna exchanged another long look.
Seven months of independence. Seven months of freedom.
But also seven months of missing the people who'd been family.
Zatanna (voice quiet): "We'll talk. But not as League members being interrogated. As equals. As people."
Artemis (nodding): "We can do that."
Constantine (pulling out a flask): "Right. Well. This has been lovely, but I need about seventeen drinks. Zat-Zat, you lover birds coming or what?"
Zatanna: "Give me five minutes. I need to make sure the wards are stable."
Wintergreen (over comms): "Exfil's ready when you are. Though I'm seeing a lot of unexpected signatures. Should I be concerned?"
Dick: "Stand by, Bishop. Situation's... complicated."
Wintergreen: "Story of your life, lad."
[Ground Level - 4:23 AM]
They emerged from the facility as a group; uneasy, uncertain, but together.
The Bioship hovered nearby, the forty-three rescued hostages safe inside, receiving medical care from M'gann and some of the others.
Dick and Zatanna stood slightly apart, Slade and Constantine flanking them like guards.
The Team and Bat Family arrayed opposite, maintaining distance but not hostility.
Wally (breaking the silence): "Seven months. You two have been doing this for seven months."
Dick: "Yeah."
Artemis: "More than forty-seven operations. We tracked them. You've saved hundreds of people."
Zatanna: "We do what we can."
Tim: "Without backup. Without support. Just the four of you and… Whoever ‘Bishop’ is."
Slade (voice dry): "Don't forget our underground contacts, safe houses, and intelligence networks. We're not completely isolated."
Jason (glaring): "Nobody asked you."
Slade (amused): "And yet I'm still here. Funny how that works."
M'gann (rejoining them, voice gentle): "Please. Can we not fight? We just worked together. Saved lives together. Can't we build on that?"
Constantine (taking a drink): "She's got a point. For what it's worth, which admittedly isn't much, you lot didn't completely cock up the operation. Colour me impressed."
Kaldur: "We wish to rebuild trust. To understand your choices. To find common ground."
Dick (voice tired): "It's not that simple, Kaldur. We left because we couldn't be who you needed us to be. Seven months hasn't changed that."
Zatanna: "But you helped us tonight. Trusted us enough to follow into danger. That's... that’s something."
Conner: "We miss you. Both of you. The Team's not the same without you."
Dick (something softening): "We miss you too. But missing someone and being compatible are different things."
Cassie (Sandsmark): "Then help us understand. Make us understand why this—", she gestured to Slade and Constantine, "—is better than what we had."
Dick and Zatanna looked at each other.
Seven months of partnership. Seven months of freedom. Seven months of being effective without compromise.
Could they explain that? Make them understand?
Zatanna (finally): "The League operates in black and white. Right and wrong. Legal and illegal. But the world's not that simple. There are gray areas where real people suffer while you debate ethics and jurisdiction."
Dick: " The Team was originally founded to work in those gray areas, but after the Reach? Things changed. Now? Slade and Constantine work in those gray areas. They're not as good people, but they get results. Save lives. Make real differences. And they don't judge us for the methods we use or the choices we make."
Slade (adding): "Plus, I pay better. And provide excellent health insurance."
Everyone stared at him.
Slade (shrugging): "What? It's true."
Constantine: "He's not wrong. That bastard Doctor Fate’s also been bugging me to join the League for real. I told him League benefits are rubbish compared to what I've got set up."
Zatanna (slight smile despite everything): "They're also not trying to fix us. To make us into something we're not. They accept us as we are."
La’gann (voice rough): "And we can't? We can't accept that you've changed?"
Dick (meeting him eye-to-eye): "Can you? Really? If we came back, would you accept that we work with Slade? That Zatanna practices dark magic? That we operate outside League oversight?"
Silence.
Because the honest answer was no. They couldn't accept it. Not really.
Tim (quietly): "We want to. We're trying to. But it's hard to reconcile the Dick and Zatanna we knew with... this.", he gestured to their tactical gear, their obvious partnership with wanted criminals.
Zatanna (nodding): "And that's why we can't come back. Because you'd always be waiting for us to return to who we were. And we can't. We won't."
Wally (voice breaking): "So that's it? You're just... gone? Forever?"
Dick (throat tight): "Not forever. We're not cutting ties. But we need you to accept that we're different now. That Renegade and Sorceress aren't temporary identities. They're who we've become."
Artemis: "And if we can't? If we can't accept that?"
Zatanna (honest): "Then we remain apart. And that would break our hearts. But we won't compromise who we are. Not again."
The weight of that settled over everyone.
Wintergreen (over comms): "Hate to interrupt, but reinforcements from the Kaznian military is inbound. ETA ten minutes. We need to leave."
Slade (checking his weapons): "He's right. Time to go."
Constantine (already drawing a teleportation circle): "I'll take the kids. You lot can have your tearful farewells or whatever."
Dick (to the Team): "The hostages are yours. Get them to League safety. Make sure they're protected."
Kaldur: "We will. You have my word."
Dick (nodding): "Good enough."
Zatanna (to the Bat Family): "Tell Bruce... tell him we're okay. That we're happy. That this isn't about him or the Family. It's about us choosing ourselves."
Steph (tears in her eyes): "We’ll try. For what it's worth, I think he's starting to understand."
Zatanna: "Good. That's... good."
Wally (desperate, stepping forward): "When will we see you again? How do we contact you?"
Dick (pulling out a burner phone, programming in a number): "This goes to a secure line. Emergencies only. Not for checking in or convincing us to come back. Emergencies."
He handed it to Wally, their fingers touching briefly.
Dick (quiet): "I love you, man. You're my best friend. My brother. But I can't be who you need me to be anymore."
Wally (voice thick): "I know. I hate it, but I know."
They embraced briefly, fiercely, years of friendship compressed into a moment.
When they pulled apart, both had tears streaming down their faces.
Zatanna hugged Artemis, then M'gann, whispered goodbyes and promises to stay safe.
Dick nodded to Jason, and received a nod back understanding without words.
Tim (stepping forward): "Dick."
Dick: "Tim."
Tim: "You're really doing this. Really choosing him—", he jerked his head toward Slade, "—over us?"
Dick: "I'm choosing me. I'm choosing Zee. Slade's just helping me do it."
Tim (studying him, then nodding): "Okay. I don't like it. Don't agree with it. But I’ll… I’ll try.", he paused, "Please don’t get yourself killed."
Dick (slight smile): "I do my best."
Constantine's teleportation circle flared to life, golden magic crackling.
Constantine: "Last call for the train to ‘Not Getting Arrested’. All aboard."
Dick (over the comms): “Negatory on that air exfil, Bishop. We’ll take the ‘Constantine Express’.”
Wintergreen (chuckling over the line): “So I’ve heard. Safe house is ready for you.”
Slade stepped into the circle first. Then Constantine.
Dick and Zatanna paused at the edge, looking back at the Team and Family one last time.
Zatanna: "We're not the enemy. We're just... different paths to the same goal."
Dick: "Take care of each other. Save the world. Be better than we were."
And then they stepped into the circle.
Golden light flared—
They were gone.
The Team and Bat Family stood in the Kaznian dawn, surrounded by the ruins of a black site facility, forty-three rescued people on their Bioship, and the weight of what they'd just lost.
Again.
Wally (collapsing to his knees): "They're really gone. Again."
Artemis (kneeling beside him): "Yeah. They are."
Jason: "But they're alive. They're safe. They're happy. That's... that's something."
Tim (bitter): "Is it though? Is it enough?"
Kaldur (placing a hand on his shoulder): "It has to be. Because it is all we have."
[Safehouse - Budapest - 6:47 AM]
The teleportation circle deposited them in a secured Budapest safehouse.
Dick collapsed onto a chair, adrenaline crashing, seven months of accumulated exhaustion hitting all at once.
Zatanna fell onto the couch, magically depleted, blood crusted on her face from the hell-gate backlash.
Slade moved to the kitchen, already preparing coffee because someone had to maintain standards.
Constantine pulled out his flask, took a long drink, then fell into an armchair.
Constantine: "Well. That was a clusterfuck."
Wintergreen's voice crackled through the comms, having monitored everything.
Wintergreen: "Helluvan understatement, John. The League now knows definitively that you four are working together. That's going to have consequences."
Slade (returning with coffee for everyone): "Let them come. We've handled worse."
Dick (accepting coffee gratefully): "We need to debrief. Figure out next moves. They know where we were—"
Zatanna (cutting him off): "They've always known where we were. We've been operating openly and they were probably monitoring us. This was bound to happen eventually."
Constantine: "She's right. Honestly surprised it took them seven months to finally catch up. Your Team's slower than I thought."
Slade (sitting): "Or they were giving you space. Testing whether you'd come back on your own."
Dick (considering): "Maybe. Doesn't change anything, though."
Zatanna: "We're not going back. Tonight proved that. We work better out here. Saved lives, stopped an apocalypse, no bureaucracy or oversight slowing us down."
Constantine (raising his flask): "Hear, hear. To operating in the gray areas League types are too precious to touch."
They drank (coffee for most, alcohol for Constantine), processing the night.
Finally, Wintergreen's voice came through again.
Wintergreen: "For what it's worth, you four did excellent work tonight. Forty-three lives saved. Hell-gate closed. No casualties. And you even played nice with your old teammates. I'm impressed."
Dick (slight smile): "High praise from you, Bishop."
Wintergreen: "Don't let it go to your head, lad. You've still got that Tokyo gig next week and the Brussels demon case after that. No rest for the wicked."
Zatanna (groaning): "Can't we have one week off?"
Wintergreen: "You can have a week off when you're dead. Until then, you're on the clock."
Constantine (laughing): "Wintergreen being Wintergreen. He's got priorities."
They finished their debrief, reviewing what went right, what went wrong, what could be improved. Professional. Efficient. The partnership they'd built over seven months operating at peak performance.
Finally, as dawn light streamed through the safehouse windows, Slade stood.
Slade: "Get some rest. Both of you look like hell. We'll reconvene in seventy-two hours for the Tokyo briefing."
Dick: "Copy that."
Slade (to Constantine): "You need a ride anywhere?"
Constantine (standing): "Nah, I'll teleport. Got a demon hunter convention in Seoul. Can't miss it. Zat-Zat, you coming?"
Zatanna (exhausted): "Next time. Need to sleep for about seventeen hours."
Constantine (grinning): "Fair enough. Don't do anything I wouldn't do.", he paused, "Actually, do do things I wouldn't do. That's a remarkably low bar."
He drew another teleportation circle and vanished in golden light.
Slade collected his gear, nodded to Dick and Zatanna, and left through the conventional exit.
Leaving them alone.
For the first time in twelve hours.
Dick and Zatanna sat in the quiet safehouse, coffee cooling, exhaustion settling deep in their bones.
Zatanna (finally): "They really came for us. Risked their lives in that basement."
Dick: "They did."
Zatanna: "Do you think... do you think we made a mistake? Leaving?"
Dick (considering carefully): "No. I don't. What we've built here, what we've become… It's real. It's ours. And tonight proved we can work with them when necessary without compromising ourselves."
Zatanna: "But it hurt. Seeing them. Walking away again."
Dick (pulling her against him): "It did. But staying would hurt more. Would slowly kill who we are."
Zatanna (resting her head on his shoulder): "I love them. I miss them. But I love us more. This life we've built."
Dick: "Same here, and that's okay. It's allowed to choose yourself. To prioritize your happiness over other people's expectations."
They sat in silence, processing the night, the confrontation, the impossible choice they'd made again.
Finally, Dick stood, offering his hand.
Dick: "Come on. Let's go home."
Zatanna (taking it): "To New York?"
Dick: "To New York. To our apartment. To John and Anna Zane Richardson’s normal life. Even if it's just for a few days."
[New York City - Greenwich Village - The "Richardson" Apartment - 11:34 AM]
The familiar click of their apartment door had never sounded so good.
Dick, back to being John Richardson, dropped their tactical bags by the door and collapsed against it, the weight of twelve hours of combat, confrontation, and emotional turmoil finally crashing over him.
Zatanna, being Anna Zane Richardson again, kicked off her boots and moved through their modest apartment like it was a sanctuary. Which, honestly, it was.
No League. No Team. No Family. Just them.
Zatanna (heading to the bedroom): "Shower. I smell like hell-gate and dried blood."
Dick (following): "I smell like Kaznian industrial complex and regret."
Zatanna (glancing back, slight smile): "Shower together then?"
Dick (already pulling off his shirt): "Best idea you've had all day."
[Bathroom - 11:47 AM]
The shower was cramper than normal, but neither of them cared.
Hot water sluiced away dirt, blood, and the physical evidence of the night. Dick washed Zatanna's hair gently, fingers working through tangles, careful around the spots where magical backlash had left her scalp tender.
Zatanna leaned back against him, eyes closed, letting the water and his touch ground her after the chaos.
Zatanna (quiet): "Do you regret it? Tonight? Letting them see us in action?"
Dick (hands moving to massage her shoulders): "No. They needed to see that we're not compromised. That we're still us, just... evolved. Better."
Zatanna (turning to face him): "Wally looked devastated. When we left."
Dick (throat tight): "I know. But we can't save him from that. Can't sacrifice who we've become to make his pain easier."
Zatanna (cupping his face): "Slade was right, you know. About us being scary good now."
Dick (slight smile): "Seven months of intense operations will do that."
Zatanna: "We stopped a hell-gate, rescued forty-three people, and fought off an entire facility of guards without a single casualty. That's not good. That's exceptional."
Dick (pulling her closer): "We make a good team."
Zatanna (rising on her toes to kiss him): "The best."
The kiss deepened, water cascading over them, hands beginning to wander beyond just cleaning.
Seven months of this, of partnership, of trust, of home, had made them inseparable. Two people who'd walked away from everything to build something theirs.
Dick (breaking the kiss, breathing hard): "Bed?"
Zatanna (already shutting off the water): "God, yes."
[Bedroom - 12:03 PM]
They fell into bed still damp from the shower, towels abandoned somewhere between bathroom and bedroom, too desperate for each other to care about practicality.
Dick's hands mapped familiar territory, the curves of Zatanna's waist, the small scar on her shoulder from a demon claw three months ago, the way she gasped when he kissed that spot just below her ear.
Zatanna's fingers traced the new scars Dick had accumulated, evidence of operations, of the life they'd chosen. Each one a story. Each one proof he'd survived.
They made love slowly despite the urgency, taking time to savour each other. Seven months of exile had taught them not to take anything for granted, not each other, not their safety, and most especially not the freedom they'd fought for.
Dick (moving inside her, voice rough): "I *pant* love you. God, I *pant* love you so much."
Zatanna (nails digging into his shoulders): I *ugh* love you too. *ahhhh* Always."
They moved together, two people who'd become perfectly synchronized through months of partnership, knowing exactly what the other needed, how to give and take, how to make each other feel complete.
When they came, it was together, cursing each other's names, holding tight, grounding themselves in the physical reality of this. Of them. Of what they'd built from the ashes of their old lives.
After, they lay tangled in sheets, cooling in the New York afternoon.
Zatanna (head on Dick's chest, listening to his heartbeat): "We really did it. Built something real."
Dick (fingers playing with her hair): "We did. Us versus the world. And we're winning."
Zatanna (propping herself up to look at him): "Are we though? We're exiles. Cut off from the League, the Team, most of our Family. Operating in gray areas that could get us killed."
Dick (meeting her eyes): "But we're happy. We're effective. We're not compromising who we are to fit into boxes that don't fit anymore. If that's not winning, I don't know what is."
Zatanna (tears pricking her eyes): "Sometimes I wonder if we're selfish. Choosing ourselves over everyone else."
Dick (sitting up, pulling her into his lap): "It's not selfish to prioritize your self after everything we’ve been through. Our autonomy. Our happiness. Zee, we spent years being what everyone needed. Heroes. Leaders. Symbols. The golden boy and the magical prodigy. When do we get to just be us?"
Zatanna (voice thick): "Is this really us being us though? Or are we just running from responsibilities?"
Dick (firm): "We saved forty-three people last night. Stopped a hell-gate. We've conducted multiple operations in seven months with zero casualties. We're not running. We're choosing to help people our way, without bureaucracy or judgment slowing us down."
Zatanna (searching his face): "And you're sure? Really sure we made the right choice?"
Dick (without hesitation): "Yes. Because the alternative? Going back, trying to fit into roles we've outgrown? It would slowly kill us. Maybe not physically, but emotionally. Mentally. We'd become bitter, resentful versions of ourselves."
Zatanna (resting her forehead against his): "I don't want that. Don't want to resent the people we love."
Dick: "Then we stay away. Stay free. And maybe, eventually, they'll understand. Accept us as we are. And if they don't?", he paused, "Then at least we have each other."
Zatanna (kissing him softly): "Together."
Dick: "Always."
They held each other in the afternoon light, New York City humming beyond their window, the world continuing its chaotic spin while they found peace in this small space.
Zatanna (finally): "Tokyo next week?"
Dick (groaning): "Don't remind me. Wintergreen's already sent the briefing files. Arms dealers, espionage, the usual."
Zatanna: "And Brussels after that. Constantine says the demon activity is 'of much concern'. Which, from him, means ‘maybe apocalyptic’."
Dick (laughing): "Our lives are weird."
Zatanna (also laughing): "Yeah. They really are."
They fell silent, comfortable, complete.
Outside, somewhere in the world, the League debated their choices. The Team mourned their absence. The Bat Family struggled to understand.
But here, in this moment, Dick Grayson and Zatanna Zatara were exactly where they needed to be.
Home.
Free.
Together.
Dick (quietly): "No regrets?"
Zatanna (without hesitation): "None. This? Us? This life? It's the best thing we've ever done."
Dick (pulling her closer): "Even better than saving the world?"
Zatanna (smiling): "We are saving the world. Just on our terms now. And yeah, that's better. Much better."
They kissed again, soft and sweet, celebrating the life they'd built.
And when they finally pulled apart, both smiling, both whole, they knew they'd made the right choice.
The League could judge. The Team could mourn. The Family could struggle to understand.
But Dick and Zatanna? They'd chosen themselves. Chosen each other. Chosen freedom.
And they'd do it again in a heartbeat.
Dick (standing, pulling her up): "Food. We need actual food. When's the last time we ate?"
Zatanna (considering): "Uh... Budapest? Twenty hours ago?"
Dick (mock horror): "We're terrible at self-care."
Zatanna (laughing): "Says the man who once went forty-eight hours without sleep during a stakeout."
Dick: "That was one time, and Slade still won't let me forget it."
Zatanna (moving to the kitchen): "Because it was stupid. Even Wintergreen lectured you."
Dick (following, wrapping his arms around her waist from behind): "I've learned. Mostly. Sometimes."
Zatanna (leaning back against him): "You're hopeless."
Dick (kissing her neck): "But I’m your hopeless."
Zatanna (turning in his arms): "Yeah. Mine."
They stood in their tiny kitchen surrounded by normalcy, groceries to put away, dishes to wash, the mundane reality of living instead of just surviving.
This was what they'd fought for. This peace. This choice.
Zatanna (finally pulling away to actually make food): "In the mood for Greek? Or should we try that new Italian place three blocks over?"
Dick (already pulling up his phone to order): "Italian. We've earned carbs."
Zatanna: "And wine. Lots of wine."
Dick (grinning): "Now you're speaking my language."
[Simultaneously - The Watchtower - Conference Room]
The Team and Bat Family gathered, exhaustion evident in every line of their bodies.
Dozens of rescued hostages were being processed and being provided medical care, counseling, new identities for those who needed them. Another successful mission. Another life-saving operation.
But it felt hollow.
Because Dick and Zatanna had been there. Right there. And they'd left again.
Wally (staring at the burner phone Dick had given him): "They're really not coming back."
Artemis (hand on his shoulder): "No. They're not."
Tim (pulling up data): "But they gave us an emergency line. That's... something?"
Jason: "Eh, think of it as a consolation prize. 'Here, have a way to reach us, but only when you're desperate.'"
Kaldur (measured): "It is more than we had yesterday. More than we had seven months ago. We saw them. Spoke with them. Understood their choices better."
M'gann (voice small): "Do we though? Do we really understand why they'd choose Deathstroke and Constantine over us?"
Barbara (quiet but firm): "Because we tried to change them. Slade and Constantine accept them as they are. It's that simple. And that hard."
Conner: "So what now? We just... accept it? Move on?"
Cass (Cain, signing with Barbara translating): "We honor their choice. Let them be free. Love them from distance."
The words hung heavy.
Because Cass was right. They had to let go. Had to accept that Dick and Zatanna had outgrown the Team, the League, the Family.
It hurt. God, it hurt.
But forcing them back would hurt more. Would destroy the very people they were trying to save.
Wally (clutching the phone): "If they need us. If they call. We're there. Immediately."
Everyone nodded. Agreement without discussion.
Whatever their differences, whatever pain the separation caused, they were still family. Complicated, broken, but family.
And family didn't abandon each other. Even when they had to let go.
Artemis: "Let's go home. We can figure out how to move forward afterwards."
They filed out slowly, each carrying the weight of acceptance, of loss, of understanding that sometimes love means letting people go.
And as they left the Watchtower, looking down at Earth spinning below, they made a silent promise:
If Dick and Zatanna ever needed them, they'd be there.
Always.
No judgment. No conditions. Just support.
Because that's what family did.
Even when it hurt.
Even when it wasn't enough.
Always.
[Current Tally - Seven Months Into Exile]
Operations Completed:
- 62 total missions (including Kaznia)
- 1,240 total lives saved
- 0 casualties
- 13 major criminal organizations dismantled
- 9 supernatural threats neutralized
League Contact:
- 1 direct confrontation (Kaznia)
- Emergency line established
- Monitoring status maintained
- Pursuit discontinued
Personal Status:
- Dick Grayson & Zatanna Zatara: Thriving
- Partnership with Slade Wilson: Strong
- Support from Wintergreen: Excellent
- Collaboration with Constantine: Ongoing
- Relationship strength: Unbreakable
Conclusion: Two heroes chose freedom over conformity. Effectiveness over bureaucracy. Themselves over expectations.
The world is safer for it.
They're happier for it.
And honestly?
That's all that matters.
Chapter 23: "Bridges"
Summary:
Over a year and a half into their exile, Dick meets up with a familiar face in an abandoned amusement park in Blüdhaven. Across the city, Zee's doing the same in a nearby 24-hour diner.
If this doesn't go to plan? The both of them agree to leave. No fuss, no buts, this was neutral ground and they were having none of it...
Chapter Text
[Blüdhaven - Abandoned Amusement Park - 11:47 PM - Eighteen Months Into Exile]
The old ferris wheel creaked in the wind, its rusted frame a monument to better times long past. The amusement park had closed fifteen years ago, left to decay while Blüdhaven spiraled into its reputation as Gotham's uglier sister city.
Perfect neutral ground.
Dick stood near the defunct carousel, hands in his jacket pockets, civilian clothes making him look almost normal. Almost like the Dick Grayson people used to know, before Renegade, before exile, before everything changed.
He'd come alone, well, mostly alone. Slade was positioned three hundred meters out with a sniper rifle, just in case. Wintergreen monitored comms from a mobile unit two blocks away. Old habits.
Footsteps crunched on broken pavement.
Dick turned to see Jason Todd emerging from the shadows, also in civilian clothes. His signature leather jacket, jeans, and the white streak in his hair visible even in the dim light from distant street lamps.
They stared at each other for a long moment.
Jason (finally, slight smirk): "Huh. Slade actually got you my message, and here I thought you wouldn't show up."
Dick (matching the smirk): "And here I thought you'd set a trap."
Jason (hands up, mock innocent): "Hey, say what you will, but I'm tryna stick to this 'reformed Red Hood' schtick. Bruce has been on my ass about the whole 'no killing' thing. Figured meeting my wayward brother without trying to shoot him would earn me brownie points."
Dick (slight laugh): "How's that working out for you?"
Jason (shrugging): "Surprisingly well, believe it or not. Turns out not murdering people makes family dinners less awkward. Who knew?"
They fell silent again, the weight of eighteen months hanging between them.
Dick (quietly): "You wanted to talk. Here I am."
Jason's expression shifted, the bravado dropping, revealing something raw underneath.
Jason (voice rough): "I missed you, Dickie."
The simple honesty of it hit harder than any punch.
Dick (throat tight): "Missed you too, Jaybird."
The childhood nicknames, the ones they’ve given to each other before everything went to hell, broke something in both of them.
Jason moved first, closing the distance, pulling Dick into a fierce hug.
They stood like that for a long moment, two brothers who'd survived death, resurrection, and exile, holding onto each other like anchors.
When they finally pulled apart, both were suspiciously bright-eyed.
Jason (clearing throat): "So. Uhhh. Fuck, this is weird."
Dick (laughing): "Yeah. Really weird."
Jason (gesturing to a relatively intact bench): "Sit? Talk? I brought beer if that counts for anything? Figured we'd need it."
Dick (following): "You came prepared."
Jason (pulling two bottles from his jacket): "Bruce taught us something useful."
They sat, opened beers, and for a while just... existed. Together. Brothers. No judgment. No expectations.
Finally, Jason spoke.
Jason: "Tim's driving himself crazy trying to track you. Has this whole conspiracy board in his apartment. Red string and everything. It's both impressive and deeply concerning."
Dick (surprised laugh): "Really?"
Jason: "Really. Kid's convinced you're building some kind of shadow organization. Which, I mean, you are, but not the nefarious kind he's imagining."
Dick (taking a drink): "We're just... trying to help. In our own way."
Jason (nodding): "I know. I get it. Better than most, probably. Operating outside the system, making your own rules, that's literally my entire MO too."
Dick: "Except you came back. To the Family. To Gotham."
Jason (considering): "Yeah. I did. Took a while, lot of therapy with Dinah, and Bruce actually apologizing for some shit. Which, by the way, was fucking surreal. But I came back because I wanted to. On my terms. With my boundaries."
Dick (searching his brother's face): "And they respect those boundaries?"
Jason (bitter smile): "Mostly. Bruce still tries to control me sometimes. Damian still challenges me to duels. But it's... manageable? Better than being alone."
Dick: "I'm not alone, Jay. I have Zee, Slade, Wintergreen, and Constantine when he's not too drunk."
Jason (studying him): "That's a hell of a support network. Weird, but effective. How's it working out for you?"
Dick (honest): "Better than I expected. Slade's... still his usual complicated self. But he respects boundaries. Doesn't try to change me. Just makes me better at what I already am."
Jason: "And Zatanna?"
Dick (softening): "She's everything. The reason I can do this. The reason I'm still sane."
Jason (slight smile): "Good. I think it’s high time you deserve something like that. Someone who gets you. Loves you anyway."
They drank in comfortable silence.
Jason: "Damian's gotten taller. Less murderous. Still an asshole, but like, an acceptable level of asshole now."
Dick (laughing): "That's an improvement."
Jason: "Tim's finally accepted being Red Robin full-time. Gave up trying to be Robin. Think that was good for him. Let him be his own person instead of living in our shadows."
Dick (guilt twisting): "I should've been there. For that transition."
Jason (firm): "No. You were healing. That's allowed. Tim understands. He just misses you."
Dick: "How bad is it? Really? The Family dynamic?"
Jason (considering): "Less dysfunctional than before you left, honestly. Bruce had a come-to-Jesus moment after you walked out. Started actually talking about feelings. Well, his version of talking, which mostly involves grunting and awkward shoulder pats, but it's progress."
Dick (surprised): "Bruce is... expressing emotions?"
Jason: "I know, right? Selina's influence, probably. She doesn't let him get away with his emotionally constipated bullshit anymore. It's actually kind of beautiful to watch."
Dick: "And the others? Steph? Cass? Duke?"
Jason: "Doing good. Steph's slowly learning a thing or two about tactics from Tim and Babs. Cass is terrifying as ever. Duke's got this whole meta-human thing figured out. They're good. We're good. Kate still drops by a few times a week, mostly to just piss Bruce off.”
Another laugh from Dick.
Jason: “It’s different, but it’s the good kind of different."
Dick felt something in his chest loosen. Relief, maybe? Knowing the Family was functioning without him. That his absence hadn't destroyed them.
Dick: "And you? How have you been holding up?"
Jason (taking a long drink): "Better. Therapy with Dinah helps. Having Will, Roy’s clone? Having him back helps, he got cleaned up, by the way. Sober eighteen months, becoming the dad Lian needs, living together with Jade now.”
Dick (lowering his bottle): “Hold up, Will and Jade got back together? As in that Jade? Artemis’ sister Jade?
Jason (giving him a look): “Don’t act so surprised, as if Will could ever let go of her.”
Dick (clinking his bottle with Jason’s): “Fair enough.”
Jason: “We still hang out sometimes, remind each other we're not the fuck-ups everyone thought we were."
Dick (genuine smile): "That's great, Jay. Really."
Jason: "Yeah. It is.", he paused, "I'm not going to ask you to come back. Just so we’re clear."
Dick (looking at him): "No?"
Jason: "No. Because I get it. Not sure about everyone else in the Family, but I get it. Needing space from the Family's expectations. Needing to be your own person. I did that too. And honestly? From what I've been hearing, you're doing good work out there. Real, effective shit that helps people."
Dick (throat tight): "Thanks, Jay. That… That means a lot."
Jason: "But.", he pulled out a burner phone, "I'd like to do this again. A different line from what you gave to Wally for emergencies. This one’s for regular check-ins. Brother to brother. No agenda, no trying to convince you of anything. Just... staying in touch."
Dick (accepting the phone): "I'd like that."
Jason: "Good. Because if you disappear for another eighteen months without contact, I'm hunting you down. And I'm bringing Damian. He's been insufferable about wanting to spar with you."
Dick (laughing): "God, that kid."
Jason (also laughing): "Right? He's obsessed. Keeps talking about how your 'tactical efficiency has improved measurably' and how he 'requires updated baseline assessments'. It's like fighting a really aggressive statistician."
They talked for another hour, about nothing and everything. Old memories, new developments, the complicated mess that was their lives.
When they finally stood to leave, Jason pulled Dick into another hug.
Jason (quiet): "Stay safe out there. And take care of Zee. She's good for you."
Dick (hugging back): "Will do. You take care of yourself too. And the Family."
Jason (pulling back, grin returning): "Someone's gotta keep Bruce from completely losing his mind. Can’t have Selina and Alfred have all the fun."
Dick: "That's a full-time job."
Jason: "Tell me about it."
They parted ways, Jason heading back into Blüdhaven's shadows, Dick toward where Slade and Wintergreen waited.
But this time, it didn't feel like goodbye. It felt like a ‘see you later’.
Progress.
[Across Town - 24-Hour Diner - Same Time]
The diner was the kind of place that asked no questions with worn booths, harsh fluorescent lighting, coffee that tasted like regret, and a waitress who'd seen everything twice.
Perfect for a clandestine meeting.
Zatanna sat in a corner booth, back to the wall (Slade's pointers bleeding through even in civilian situations), nursing a coffee that was somehow both too hot and not hot enough.
She wore civilian clothes, just jeans, a sweater, and minimal makeup. Anna Zane Richardson, out for a late-night coffee. Nothing suspicious.
The door chimed.
Artemis Crock-West walked in, blonde ponytail swinging, also in civilian clothes. She spotted Zatanna immediately and slid into the opposite side of the booth.
Artemis (to the approaching waitress): "Coffee. Black. Thanks."
The waitress grunted acknowledgment and shuffled away.
Zatanna (studying her friend): "And here I thought you won’t show up."
Artemis (once the waitress was out of earshot): "I’m the one who asked so..."
Zatanna (pulling down her coffee mug): "Does Wally or anyone else on the Team know about this?"
Artemis (shaking her head): "No. Just me. Just us. And this ain't the first time I've kept something secret from my husband."
The emphasis on that last word made Zatanna's eyes widen.
Zatanna went quiet, taking the revelation in, multiple emotions flickering across her face. Surprise, joy, and something that looked like grief.
Zatanna (finally, voice thick): "Congratulations. I'm happy for you two. I really am. And I'm sure Dick is too."
Artemis (smile bittersweet): "Thank you. It means a lot to us. Though...", she paused, "The wedding would've been better if you two were there."
The words hung heavy.
The wedding Zatanna hadn't been invited to. Not out of malice, but because she'd been gone. Unreachable. Existing in a world separate from the Team, the Family, the people who'd once been her closest friends.
Silence stretched, both women processing the weight of what they'd lost and what remained.
Zatanna (echoing Dick's earlier words): "You wanted to talk. Here I am."
Artemis (voice rough): "I missed you, Zee. Thank you for coming."
Zatanna (tears pricking her eyes): "Missed you too, Arty."
The waitress returned with Artemis's coffee, breaking the moment. They waited until she left, then Artemis reached across the table, taking Zatanna's hand.
Artemis: "I'm not here to convince you to come back. Or judge your choices. I just... I needed to see you. To know you're okay."
Zatanna (squeezing her hand): "I'm okay. Better than okay, actually. I'm happy."
Artemis (studying her face): "You are. I can see it. You look... lighter. Less burdened."
Zatanna (slight smile): "Turns out operating without League oversight and Family expectations is good for mental health. Who knew?"
Artemis (laughing): "If I'd known that eighteen months ago, I might've joined you."
Zatanna: "You could've. Still could."
Artemis (shaking her head): "No. My path is different. Wally needs the Team. Needs the structure. And honestly, so do I. The gray areas you guys operate in? I don't think I'm built for that."
Zatanna (understanding): "And that's okay. Different paths. Same destination."
Artemis: "Which is?"
Zatanna: "Saving people. Making the world better. Just... different methods."
They talked for over an hour, coffee turning cold and being replaced, the diner's sparse late-night crowd ignoring them completely.
Artemis told her about her wedding; a small ceremony with just the original Team, close League members, and close Family. Wally crying during his vows. M'gann's beautiful decorations. Kaldur's unexpectedly touching toast. Conner's awkward but sincere congratulations.
Zatanna told her about their operations; the trafficking rings dismantled, the demons they've banished, the lives saved, the effectiveness of working without bureaucratic constraints. The partnership with Dick that had become unbreakable.
Artemis: "You two are really doing it. Building something real?"
Zatanna: "We are. It's not perfect. It's dangerous. But it's ours."
Artemis: "And Dick? How is he really?"
Zatanna (softening): "He's... himself. More himself than he's been in years. The weight of expectations, of trying to be everyone's solution finally gone. He's just Dick now. Renegade in the field, but Dick everywhere else."
Artemis (slight smile): "Good. He deserves that. You both do."
Zatanna: "How's the Team? Really?"
Artemis (considering): "Functional. Different without you two, but managing. Kaldur's leading most missions now and Tim helps coordinate."
Zatanna: "And they're okay? No one's... breaking?"
Artemis (honest): "Wally struggled. For months. You guys not being around hit him hard. Dick's his best friend, and you're—were—", she corrected herself, "Are family. Losing you both felt like losing limbs."
Zatanna (guilt twisting): "I'm sorry. We never wanted to hurt him."
Artemis (firm): "I know. And he knows. He's... accepted it. Not happy about it, but accepted. We all have."
Zatanna: "That must've been hard."
Artemis (bitter laugh): "You have no idea. M'gann cried for days. Conner got really quiet, you know how he gets when he's processing emotions. Kaldur threw himself into leadership. Everyone coped differently."
Zatanna: "And you?"
Artemis (quiet): "I was angry, for a while, actually. Felt like you abandoned us. But then I thought about what you said. About needing to choose yourselves. And I realized I'd been selfish. Wanting you to stay for our comfort instead of supporting your happiness."
Zatanna (tears falling now): "You weren't selfish. You were hurt. I hurt you. We hurt all of you."
Artemis (also crying): "But you're happy now. And that's what matters. I can be sad about losing you and still be happy you found what you needed."
They held hands across the table, both crying, both healing.
Finally, Artemis pulled herself together, wiping her eyes.
Artemis: "I want to do this again, if it’s okay with you. Just us. No Team, no agenda. Just friends catching up."
Zatanna (nodding): "I'd like that. Really like that."
Artemis (pulling out a burner phone): "Here. Encrypted. Something just for the two of us, only I have the other one. We can text, call, meet up if our schedules are good."
Zatanna (accepting it): "Thank you. For this. For understanding."
Artemis: "What are friends for?"
They talked for another thirty minutes, lighter topics now. Artemis's job at Stanford. Zatanna's fake cover as a graphic designer. The absurdity of their double lives.
When they finally stood to leave, they hugged fiercely.
Artemis (whispered): "Stay safe out there. And tell Dick Tim’s been driving Bruce crazy with questions about where you are."
Zatanna (laughing through tears): "Will do. Take care of Wally. And yourself."
Artemis: "Always."
One last hug and they parted ways, Artemis heading back to her life with the Team, Zatanna towards where Constantine was waiting three blocks away with a teleportation circle for another exorcism close by.
But just like Dick and Jason’s, it didn't feel like goodbye.
Just ‘see you later’.
[New York City - The "Richardson" Apartment - 2:34 AM]
Dick unlocked the apartment door to find Zatanna already there, curled up on the couch with tea, still wearing her civilian clothes from the meeting.
They looked at each other, and without words, knew they'd both had similar nights.
Dick (hanging up his jacket): "How'd it go?"
Zatanna (setting down her tea): "Good. Hard, but good. You?"
Dick (sitting beside her): "Same. Jason's... he's doing well. Better than I expected."
Zatanna (curling into his side): "Artemis too. And she's married now. To Wally."
Dick (surprised): "When?"
Zatanna: "Six months ago. Small ceremony. Just the Team and family."
Dick (something bittersweet): "Good for them. They deserve the happiness."
Zatanna: "She said it would've been better if we'd been there."
Dick (throat tight): "Yeah. Probably."
They sat in silence, processing the weight of what they'd missed, what they'd chosen to miss.
Finally, Zatanna spoke.
Zatanna: "Do you regret it? Meeting with Jason?"
Dick (without hesitation): "No. It was good. Necessary. We're going to do it again. Regular check-ins."
Zatanna: "Artemis wants the same. Just us, no Team involvement."
Dick (nodding): "Can you handle that? Maintaining boundaries while staying connected?"
Zatanna: "I think so. Can you?"
Dick: "I think I can. Jason gets it. Gets why we left. Doesn't try to change us."
Zatanna: "Artemis too. She was hurt, but she understands now. Supports our choice even if she misses us."
Dick (pulling her closer): "We're building bridges. Slow, careful ones. But bridges nonetheless."
Zatanna: "Is that what we want? To eventually reconnect with them?"
Dick (considering): "Eventually, maybe. On our terms. With boundaries firmly in place. But I'm not ready to go back. To rejoin the Team or the League."
Zatanna: "Neither am I. This life we've built? It's working. We're effective, happy, free."
Dick: "But we can have both. Our life and connections to our old one. Carefully managed. Controlled."
Zatanna (looking up at him): "You've been thinking about this."
Dick (honest): "Yeah. A lot. A year and a half of exile, it's been good for us. Made us who we need to be. But complete isolation isn't sustainable. We need some connection to who we were."
Zatanna: "Without compromising who we've become."
Dick: "Exactly."
They fell silent, the weight of their realizations settling.
Zatanna (finally): "So what's the plan? Regular meetings with Jason and Artemis? Slow reconnection with the Team and Family?"
Dick: "Maybe. Very slowly. Very carefully. Always on our terms."
Zatanna: "And if they push? Try to convince us to return?"
Dick: "Then we pull back. We've proven we can walk away. We'll do it again if necessary."
Zatanna (nodding): "I can live with that."
Dick: "Yeah?"
Zatanna: "Yeah. Because we're not compromising. We're just... expanding. Adding complexity to our lives without losing the core of what we've built."
Dick (kissing her forehead): "When did you get so wise?"
Zatanna (smiling): "Somewhere between the demon hunting and the existential crises."
Dick (laughing): "Fair enough."
They sat together, comfortable, processing the night's revelations.
Finally, Dick stood, offering his hand.
Dick: "Come on. Bed. We've got that Sao Paulo debrief with Slade tomorrow. We need sleep."
Zatanna (taking his hand): "In a minute. Want to just... sit. Process."
Dick (sitting back down, pulling her into his lap): "Okay. We can do that."
Zatanna (resting her head on his shoulder): "Today was good. Seeing Artemis. Knowing Jason's okay. Realizing we can have both lives."
Dick: "It was. Better than I expected."
Zatanna: "Do you think they'll keep their word? About not tell the others about our meetings?"
Dick: "Jason will. He understands boundaries. And Artemis? She's kept bigger secrets."
Zatanna (remembering): "The fake death thing. Yeah."
Dick: "So we do this. Slow reconnection. Careful bridges. Always maintaining the freedom we've fought for."
Zatanna: "Together."
Dick: "Always."
They kissed, soft and sweet, celebrating the complexity of their lives, the balance they were finding between past and present.
When they pulled apart, Zatanna stood, pulling Dick toward the bedroom.
Zatanna: "Now bed. For real. But first—", she paused at the doorway, looking back with that smile that always made Dick's chest tight, "—I need you to remind me why we made the right choice. Why this? Us? Our life? Our freedom? Is worth everything we gave up."
Dick (moving to her, hands finding her waist): "I think I can manage that."
Zatanna (pulling him into the bedroom): "I'm counting on it."
Chapter 24: "Homecoming"
Summary:
Two years into Dick and Zee's exile and they've received word from Jason that Bruce has been hurt bad, like, very bad.
Bane had broken Bruce's back, and its unsure if he can ever be Batman again.
Against all odds, they make their way back to the Manor for the first time since their exile...
Chapter Text
[Two Years Into Exile]
[Wayne Manor - Front Entrance - 3:47 PM]
The Manor looked exactly as Dick remembered it; imposing Gothic architecture, meticulously maintained grounds, the weight of legacy pressing down from every stone.
Two years.
Two years since he'd last walk through these doors. Two years of operations, of freedom, of building a life with Zatanna that was theirs.
And now, standing at the threshold with Zatanna's hand tight in his, Dick felt the pull of home warring with the knowledge of what he'd left behind.
Zatanna (squeezing his fingers): "Last chance. We can still walk away. Call Jason, tell him we can't—"
Dick (shaking his head): "No. Bruce is hurt. Whatever happened between us, he's still... he's still Bruce. And if Bane broke his back badly enough that Dr. Thompkins is worried...", he paused, "I need to see him. Need to know he's going to be okay."
Zatanna (searching his face): "Even if they try to keep us here? Try to fix us?"
Dick (meeting her eyes): "Then we leave. Same as before. But Jason promised he'd run interference. And honestly?", a slight smile, "I trust him more than most of the Family right now."
Zatanna (returning the smile): "Your resurrected murder-brother is more trustworthy than Batman. That's either character development or a sign of how fucked up your family is."
Dick (laughing despite everything): "Both. Definitely both."
They stood there a moment longer, two people who'd built something beautiful in exile, about to walk back into the complicated mess they'd left behind.
Dick raised his hand and knocked.
Three sharp raps that echoed through the wood.
No turning back now.
Footsteps approached from inside. Measured. Familiar. The distinctive pattern of someone who'd been walking these halls for decades.
The lock clicked. The knob turned.
And there, framed in the doorway like something out of Dick's childhood, stood Alfred Pennyworth.
The butler's composure cracked for just a moment; his eyes widening, mouth opening slightly in genuine shock before professional training reasserted itself.
But Dick had seen it. That flash of emotion. Relief. Joy. Pain.
Alfred (voice carefully controlled, but with an undercurrent of warmth): "M-Master Dick? Miss Zatanna. This is... unexpected."
Dick felt his throat tighten. Two years. Two years since he'd heard Alfred call him that. Heard that particular blend of formality and affection that only Alfred could manage.
Dick (voice rougher than intended): "Hey, Alfred. How've you been?"
Alfred (straightening, but his eyes were suspiciously bright): "As well as one can be, given the circumstances of the past two years…"
The weight of that statement landed like a physical blow.
All the missed dinners. All the holidays. All the moments when Dick should've been here and wasn't.
Dick (wincing): "I'm sorry. For... for everything. For leaving the way we did. For staying away so long—"
Alfred (holding up a hand): "Master Dick. You made the choices you felt necessary. I may not fully understand them, but I've never doubted they were made with conviction.", he paused, "Though I confess, the Manor has felt considerably emptier without your presence."
Zatanna (voice thick): "We missed you too, Alfred. More than you know."
Alfred's expression softened further, the professional mask slipping to reveal the man underneath; the face of the one who'd raised Dick, of the who'd been more of a father figure than Bruce in many ways.
Dick (changing the subject before he broke down completely): "Bruce. How is he?"
Alfred's face went grave.
Alfred: "Stable. But the injury is... severe… Dr. Thompkins has him on strict bed rest. The vertebrae damage was extensive. He'll require months of recovery, followed by aggressive physical therapy and spinal realignment treatments. Even then...", he trailed off, the implications clear.
Even then, he might never be Batman again.
Dick felt ice in his veins. Bruce had always seemed… Indestructible? An immovable force. The idea of him broken, vulnerable, mortal...
Dick: "Can we see him?"
Alfred (stepping aside): "Of course. Though I should warn you, Master Clark and Miss Diana are currently with him. They arrived this morning to offer support to the Family."
Dick and Zatanna exchanged looks. The silent communication that came from two years of perfect partnership.
Superman and Wonder Woman. The entire Trinity was here. This complicates things.
Zatanna (out loud): "We can handle it. We've handled worse."
Alfred (the ghost of a smile): "I have no doubt. Miss Zatanna, you've developed quite the reputation these past two years. The Justice League speaks of Sorceress with both awe and... concern."
Zatanna (slight smile): "Good. They should be concerned. Means we're doing something right."
Alfred (turning to lead them inside): "Quite. Master Dick, I believe similar things are said about Renegade. The criminal underworld has learned to fear that name."
Dick (following): "That was the idea."
They entered the Manor proper, and Dick was hit by a wave of memory. The grand foyer. The sweeping staircase. The portrait of his parents that Bruce had commissioned and hung in a place of honor.
Home. This was home. Once.
But it felt different now. Like a museum of his past life. Beautiful. Meaningful. But no longer his.
Alfred led them through familiar corridors toward the family wing. Dick could hear voices as they approached.
Alfred (pausing outside Bruce's door): "Miss Selina is out on a meeting with Dr. Thompkins to discuss Master Bruce’s condition, but the rest of the Family’s inside. Master Tim, Master Jason, Miss Barbara, and the others are in the Bat Cave conducting research into Bane's current whereabouts. Master Damian is...", he hesitated, "Managing in his own way."
Dick (understanding): "Damian's blaming himself."
Alfred (nodding): "The young master has taken his father's injury as a personal failure. He's been... difficult."
Dick: "I'll talk to him. Later. After we see Bruce."
Alfred (opening the door): "I'll let them know."
The bedroom beyond was Bruce's private quarters, a space Dick had only been in a handful of times. Bruce valued his privacy, even from family.
The room was spartan, Bruce Wayne didn't do luxury in his personal space but it was comfortable. A large bed dominated the center, where Bruce lay propped up by pillows, his torso wrapped in medical supports.
Clark Kent stood by the window, civilian clothes but Superman written in every line of his concerned posture. Diana Prince sat in a chair beside the bed, also in civilian attire, her hand resting on the bed's edge like she was ready to offer comfort at a moment's notice.
And in the bed, looking smaller than Dick had ever seen him, was Bruce.
No cowl. No cape. Just Bruce Wayne in sleep clothes, pale, exhausted, but alive.
His eyes were closed, but they opened at the sound of the door.
Blue eyes, the same blue Dick remembered from childhood, found him immediately.
For a moment, the world stopped.
Bruce's expression cycled through emotions too fast to catalog: shock, disbelief, hope, pain, anger, and maybe even love?
Bruce (voice hoarse): "Dick?"
Just his name. Just that one word. But it carried the weight of two years of separation, of judgment and exile, of missing each other in ways neither could articulate.
Dick (stepping forward, Zatanna's hand still in his): "Hey, Bruce."
Clark and Diana had both turned at the interruption, their own expressions of surprise quickly morphing into something more complex.
Clark (surprised): "Dick? Zatanna? We… We didn't know you were coming."
Zatanna (voice carefully neutral): "We didn't plan to, but when family's hurt? You show up. Even when it's… complicated."
Diana (studying them with those too-perceptive eyes): "You've changed. Both of you. Two years have...", she paused, searching for words, "You seem more... centered. More sure of yourselves."
Dick: "That's what freedom does. What choosing yourself does."
The words landed with weight. A reminder of why they'd left. Why they'd stayed away.
Bruce (voice weak but insistent): "Clark. Diana. Could you… Could you give us a moment?"
Clark (hesitating): "Bruce, you need rest—"
Bruce (firmer): "Please."
Diana stood immediately, respect in the gesture. Clark followed more reluctantly, concern evident.
Clark (to Dick): "We're downstairs if you need anything. If he needs anything."
Dick (nodding): "Thank you."
They left, the door clicking shut behind them with a finality that made Dick's chest tight.
And then it was just the three of them; Bruce in the bed, Dick and Zatanna standing at the foot, two years of absence hanging between them like a gulf.
Bruce (staring at Dick like he was a ghost): "You came. I didn't think... Jason said he'd try to reach you, but I didn't think you'd actually come."
Dick (voice rough): "You're hurt. Of course we came."
Bruce: "Even after everything? After the exile, the suspension, the—"
Zatanna (cutting him off): "You're Dick's dad, Bruce. Complicated doesn't erase that. He wanted to see you. To know you're going to be okay."
Bruce's gaze shifted to her, really seeing her for the first time.
Bruce: "You've grown more powerful. I’ve seen the reports..." He trailed off. "Constantine's training?"
Zatanna (lifting her chin): "Among others. I've studied with practitioners the League would never approve of. Learned magic that would make Doctor Fate uncomfortable. And I'm better for it."
Bruce (to Dick): "And you?"
Dick (meeting his eyes): "I’ve been better. Still effective. Still someone who saves lives without bureaucracy or judgment slowing me down. Still someone who chose his own path instead of following yours."
The words weren't cruel. Just honest. Statement of fact.
Bruce (quiet pain in his voice): "I failed you. Both of you. I understand that now."
Dick felt his breath catch. Bruce didn't do apologies. For him to say this, here, now?
Dick (stepping closer to the bed): "You didn't fail. You just... you couldn't let me grow beyond what you needed me to be. And I couldn't stay in that box anymore."
Bruce: "I tried to track you. For months after you left. Every resource, every contact, every—", he stopped, wincing, "You disappeared completely. Like ghosts."
Zatanna (slight smile): "We learned from the best. Both of us. Just not the best you wanted us to learn from."
Bruce (understanding): "Slade."
Dick: "Among others. We've built a network. Something we have for our own."
Bruce (studying him): "You feel more sure of yourself now."
Dick (honest): "Because I'm not trying to be Batman's heir anymore. Not trying to live up to impossible standards. I'm just... me. And that's enough."
Silence fell. Heavy. Weighted with everything unsaid over two years.
Finally, Bruce spoke.
Bruce: "I know about your operations. The trafficking rings. The demon exorcisms. The espionage work. The League monitors everything, even when they pretend not to.", he paused, "You've saved over two thousand lives in two years. Zero casualties. That's... that's extraordinary."
Dick: "I’m not surprised that you’ve been watching."
Bruce: "Not actively pursuing. Just... watching. Making sure you were safe. That you weren't compromised.", his voice dropped, "That you were still you."
Zatanna: "And? What's the verdict? Are we still the people you remember? Or have we become the monsters you feared?"
There was pause.
Then, Bruce sighed.
Bruce (meeting her eyes): "You're better. Both of you. More effective. More confident. More...", he struggled for the word, "Whole."
Dick felt tears prick his eyes. Admission from Bruce that they'd made the right choice. That exile had been good for them.
Bruce: "I can't say I approve of your methods. Working with Deathstroke. Studying dark magic. Operating outside League oversight.", he paused, "But I can't argue with the results. You're saving lives. Making real differences. And you're happy. I can see it in both of you."
Zatanna (voice thick): "We are. Happier than we've been in years."
Bruce: "Then I'm glad. Even if it means losing you. Even if it means accepting that my first son chose a different path. At least you're alive. Thriving. That's more than I could ask for."
Dick (sitting on the edge of the bed): "You know I'm still here. Still family. Just... on my terms now. If that's alright with you.”
Bruce (hand reaching out, trembling slightly): "Can you ever forgive me? For not seeing what you needed? For trying to control instead of support?"
Dick (taking his hand): "You did what you thought was right. Same as I did. We just... we need different things. Different paths."
Zatanna (moving to stand beside Dick): "But that doesn't mean we can't still care about each other. Can't still be family in whatever form that takes."
Bruce (tears forming): "I missed you. Both of you. More than I knew how to express. The Manor's been... empty without you."
Dick: "I missed you too. Missed this place. Missed Alfred's cooking and the way you grunt instead of using actual words." A slight smile. "But I don't regret leaving. Don't regret choosing Zee and myself."
Bruce (squeezing his hand): "Good. You shouldn't. I'm...", he paused, struggling, "I'm proud of you. Of the man you've become. Even if I don't fully understand it."
Dick felt the damn break. Tears streaming down his face as he leaned forward, carefully embracing Bruce.
Bruce (arms coming up, holding him): "I love you, son. I should've said it more. Should've shown it better. But I love you."
Dick (voice breaking): "Thank you. Years overdue, but thank you. Even when I'm angry. Even when I don't understand you. I’m still here, I’m still your son, always."
They’ve come to terms, two people who'd hurt each other trying to find their way back to something. Not what they had. But maybe something new.
Zatanna (also crying, hand on Dick's shoulder): "We should let you rest. You've been through trauma and you need—"
Bruce (not letting go of Dick): "Stay. Please. Just... stay for a while. I know you'll leave again. I know you have your own lives now but please. Just stay."
Dick (pulling back to look at him): "We can stay for a few days. Check on the Family. Make sure you're stable. But Bruce...", he needed him to understand, "I don’t think we’ll come back. At least not yet. This visit doesn't change that."
Bruce (nodding, accepting): "I know. I wouldn't ask you to. But having you here, even temporarily...", his voice cracked, "It means a lot to me right now."
Zatanna (sitting in the chair Diana had vacated): "Then we'll stay. For you. For the Family. Just a few days."
Bruce (settling back against the pillows, exhaustion evident): "Thank you. Both of you."
They sat in silence, the three of them processing this fragile reconnection.
Outside the door, Dick could hear movement, the rest of the Family gathering, probably informed by Alfred that he and Zatanna were here.
Here comes the hard part.
Bruce (seeming to read his mind): "They've missed you. The family. Even Jason, though he'll never admit it."
Dick (slight smile): "Jason and I… We’ve had a few words every once in a while. He didn't tell you?"
Bruce (surprised): "No. He... he didn’t."
Zatanna: "We asked him to. Needed someone in the Family we could trust not to use our contact to track us."
Bruce (processing): "And he honoured that. Protected your privacy over my need to know.”, something complicated crossed his face, "I can respect that."
Dick: "Thanks for understanding, B.”
A knock at the door interrupted them.
Alfred (entering): "Master Bruce, forgive the interruption, but the rest of the Family has learned of Master Dick's arrival. They're requesting to see him. Shall I tell them to wait?"
Bruce (looking at Dick): "Your call."
Dick (standing): "Let them come. Might as well rip off the bandaid."
Alfred (slight smile): "Very well. Though I should warn you, Master Damian is particularly... eager."
Dick (laughing despite everything): "Of course he is."
The door opened wider and the Bat Family poured in; Tim, Jason, Damian, Barbara, Stephanie, Cassandra, Duke, Kate, and Selina (who’d just gotten home).
All of them stopped dead at the sight of Dick and Zatanna.
Tim (voice breaking): "Dick."
Jason (arms crossed, but his eyes were soft): "Took you long enough, Goldie."
Damian (trying for aloof but failing): "Grayson. You've… Returned."
[Bruce's Quarters - 4:03 PM]
The room felt suddenly smaller with eleven people crammed into it.
Tim stood frozen in the doorway, Red Robin uniform visible under his jacket, like he'd been in the middle of patrol prep when Alfred delivered the news. His eyes were wide behind his domino mask, disbelief and hope warring across his features.
Jason leaned against the wall, Red Hood helmet tucked under one arm, that familiar leather jacket creaking as he shifted. His expression was carefully neutral, but Dick caught the ghost of a smile.
Damian pushed past both of them, Robin uniform pristine, sword at his hip, moving with his usual aggressive confidence. But his eyes? The eyes that shared Talia’s green colours but Bruce’s composure? They were bright with something that looked suspiciously like emotion.
Barbara wheeled in behind them, Oracle tech integrated into her chair's armrests, fingers already flying across a holographic keyboard. She looked up and her expression cracked, joy, pain, and relief all at once.
Stephanie, Cassandra, and Duke clustered together, the newer members of the Family, watching with a mix of curiosity and caution.
Kate Kane stood near the door, Batwoman gear visible under her coat, arms crossed in that way that meant she was assessing, analyzing, judging.
And Selina Kyle draped herself in the remaining empty chair, elegant even in casual clothes, watching the reunion with those knowing cat eyes.
For a moment, no one spoke. Just stared.
Then Damian moved.
Damian (stopping a few feet from Dick, posture rigid): "You've returned. About time. Your absence has been... noted."
Dick (slight smile, because only Damian would phrase it like that): "Missed you too, Damian."
Damian's jaw tightened, something flickering across his face before the mask slammed back down.
Damian: "I have... improved since your departure. Developed seventeen new combat techniques. Optimized patrol routes by thirty-two percent."
Dick understood what Damian wasn't saying, “I worked so hard. Did you notice? Are you proud?”
Dick (smiling): "I never doubted you would. You're brilliant, Damian. Probably the most naturally talented Robin we've ever had."
Damian (something like surprise): "You... you believe that?"
Dick (kneeling to be at eye level): "I know that. You're going to be better than all of us. Already are in some ways."
Damian's composure cracked completely. He lurched forward, arms wrapping around Dick's neck in a fierce hug that was probably cutting off circulation.
Damian (voice muffled against Dick's shoulder): "You left. You left and didn't say goodbye. Didn't tell us where you were going. Didn't—", his voice broke, "I thought you were dead. Or worse. Thought you'd abandoned us because we weren't good enough—"
Dick (arms coming up, holding the now fourteen-year-old who tried so hard to be grown): "No. No, Damian. Never that. I left because I needed to figure out who I was. Not because of anything you did. You guys didn't do anything wrong."
Damian (pulling back, swiping at his eyes angrily): "I'm not crying. It's allergies. The Manor's ventilation system is inadequate—"
Jason (snorting): "Sure, demon-spawn. Allergies."
Damian (glaring at him): "Silence, Todd."
But the moment had broken something. Permission given for emotion.
Tim surged forward next, and suddenly Dick had an armful of his successor, Red Robin mask yanked off, tears streaming.
Tim (voice breaking): "You asshole. Two years. Two years without a word. Do you have any idea—", he stopped, breath hitching, "I thought I'd never see you again. Thought whatever choice you made meant you were gone forever."
Dick (holding him tight): "I'm sorry, Tim. I never wanted to hurt you. Any of you."
Tim (pulling back, hands gripping Dick's shoulders): "Then why? Why couldn't you just talk to us? Work it out? Why did you have to leave?"
Dick (meeting his eyes): "Because staying was killing me. Slowly. Piece by piece. And I couldn't explain that in a way you'd understand. Not then."
Tim: "And now?"
Dick: "Now? Maybe you can see that leaving was the right choice. That I'm better for it. Happier."
Tim (studying him, that analytical detective's gaze): "You are. I can see it. You're...", he paused. "You're not carrying the weight anymore. The guilt. The responsibility for everyone."
Dick: "Because I chose myself. Finally. For the first time in my life."
Tim (throat working): "I'm glad. Even though I missed you. Even though it hurt. I'm glad you found that."
Barbara (wheeling forward, and her voice was sharp): "So you’ll just waltz back in? After two years of nothing? After making us all think you were compromised or dead or—", her voice cracked, "Do you have any idea what it was like? Tracking your operations, knowing you were out there with Deathstroke, wondering every day if you'd crossed a line you couldn't come back from?"
Dick (moving to kneel beside her chair): "Babs—"
Barbara: "Don't. Don't you dare 'Babs' me. You left. You chose to leave. And yes, I understand why—", she swiped at her eyes angrily, "I probably understand better than most… but that doesn't make it hurt less. Doesn't make the absence easier."
Dick (taking her hand): "You're right, and I'm sorry. For the pain, for the worr, but I can't apologize for the choice itself. It was right for me, for Zatanna, for who we needed to become."
Barbara (squeezing his hand despite herself): "I know. I know, and I'm glad you're happy, glad you found your path, but Dick?", she looked up, her eyes were fierce, "If you ever disappear like that again without at least letting me know you're alive, I will hunt you down and make your life miserable. Oracle has resources. I will find you."
Dick (slight smile): "I'll keep that in mind, and maybe even add you to the emergency contact list."
Barbara: "Good.", she paused, "I missed you. So much. The Manor's network security has gone to shit without you here to test it."
Dick (laughing): "I missed you too. And I'm sure Tim's been keeping it sharp."
Jason (finally pushing off the wall): "Alright, enough of the tearful reunion. Some of us have actual things to say."
He approached, and unlike the others, didn't go for a hug. Just stood there, arms crossed, that familiar swagger that was pure Jason Todd.
Jason: "You showed up. Wasn't sure you would, even with my message."
Dick (standing): "You said Bruce was hurt. Of course I came."
Jason: "Yeah, well. Not everyone would. Not after two years of exile.", he paused, "You look better than you did last week."
That comment from Jason seemed to earn knowing looks from everyone else (save for Bruce).
Dick: "Thanks. You too. Clean, sober, not actively murdering people. Character development."
Jason (grin): "Hey fuck you. I'm delightful."
Dick (laughing): "Sure, whatever you say, Jay."
Jason (expression turning serious): "I held up my end of the bargain. Your check-ins with me. Strictly confidential, not even Bruce. That was your trust, I wasn't going to betray it."
Dick (throat tight): "I know. Thank you for that. For understanding."
Jason: "Yeah, well. Someone in this fucked-up family had to.", he shifted. "Also, I've been meaning to tell you, Will’s been doing better since last time. Living with Jade and Lian. Being a real dad. Thought you'd want to know."
Dick (genuine smile): "That's great. Tell him I'm proud of him."
Jason: "Tell him yourself. He asks about you sometimes. Misses his partner-in-crime from the old days. Saying that shit isn’t the same without either you, even if Wally and Kaldur drop in from time to time."
Dick: "I’ll think about it.."
Stephanie (finally finding her voice): "Hi. Uh. I'm Stephanie. Spoiler? Not sure if…”
Dick (chuckling to himself): “I remember who you are, Steph. The girl who refused to quit even after Bruce fired you. Who came back stronger, angrier, more determined. You don’t need to be so formal. You've got spine. Why would I forget that?"
Stephanie (blushing): "Oh. Uh. Thanks. I just… I wanted to say, I get it. Why you left. The pressure to be perfect, to be what Bruce needs, to never fail—", she laughed bitterly, "I failed constantly. Got kicked off the Team more times than I can count. So yeah, I get wanting to just say 'fuck it' and build something on your own terms."
Dick: "Then you understand why we can't stay. Why this is just a visit."
Stephanie (nodding): "I do. Doesn't mean it doesn't suck, but I get it."
Cassandra moved forward next, silent as always, communicating more through body language than words.
She stopped in front of Dick, studied him with those too-perceptive eyes that could read every micro-expression, every tell.
Then she signed, rapid and precise.
Barbara (translating): "She says: 'You're at peace. Finally. The war inside you is quiet. That's good. That's right.'"
Dick (throat working): "Thanks, Cass. That means a lot."
Cass (signing again, and her expression was fierce)
Barbara (speaking for Cass): "'Don't let them take it away. Your peace. Your choice. Fight for it.'"
Dick: "I will. I promise."
Duke (stepping forward, youngest of them all): “I hope you still remember me.”
Dick (smiling): “Of course, Duke? Why would I forget?”
Duke (scratching the back of his head): “Oh, yeah… Right. Uhm…”, he paused, "I guess I just wanted to thank you. For being there when Bruce took the three of us in?”, he gestured to himself, Steph, and Cass, “And for being the older brother we needed even if it was just for a little while before you left."
Dick (smiling): "Of course, you’re family, Duke. All three of you. And I know you’ll all be doing even better things as you grow. Probably better than any of us."
Duke (nodding with a smile on his face): “Thanks, Dick. We needed that.”
Kate (finally speaking, voice dry): "*ehem* Well. This is touching. Very Hallmark. But can we address the elephant in the room?"
Everyone turned to her.
Kate: "You've been working with Deathstroke for two years. One of the world's most dangerous assassins. Learning from him. Partnering with him. And you expect us to just... what? Accept that? Pretend it's fine?"
Dick (meeting her gaze steadily): "No. I don't expect you to accept it. But I expect you to respect it. Respect that I made that choice with full knowledge of what it meant. That I set boundaries and maintained them. That I'm still me, just more effective."
Kate: "And if one day you're not? If one day Slade's influence takes you somewhere you can't come back from?"
Zatanna (stepping forward, voice sharp): "Then we deal with it. I deal with it. But don't presume to know what's good for Dick better than he does. Don't act like you have some moral high ground when half this family has made compromises you'd rather not examine."
Kate (eyes narrowing towards her): "Excuse me?"
Zatanna: "Bruce trained with the League of Assassins. Jason came back from the dead with a body count. Tim's done things undercover that would make your skin crawl. Damian was raised to be an assassin. Everyone in this room has gray areas. Don't act like Dick's is worse just because it makes you uncomfortable."
A long pause.
Then.
Kate (sighing): "Fair point.", she looked at Dick, "I still have thoughts about it. But I respect your right to choose your path. Even if it's one I have a hard time coming to terms with."
Dick: "That's all I ask."
Selina (finally speaking, voice amused): "Well. This has been educational. But I think we're missing the obvious question."
Everyone turned to her.
Selina: "Are you staying? Or is this just a temporary visit before you disappear again?"
The question hung in the air.
Dick (looking around at all of them): "Temporary. A few days, maybe a week. Until Bruce is stable and we're sure he's going to make a recovery. But then we leave. Back to our life. Our work."
Tim (voice small): "And we won't see you again? For another two years?"
Dick: "I don't know. I can’t say but…”, he pauses, “Maybe we can do this more often? Short visits, maybe the occasional dinner invite from Alfred? Staying connected without staying trapped."
He looked at Bruce.
Dick: "But one thing I am certain of is that we're not coming back. Not to the Team. Not to the League. Not to living here, at least maybe not yet. That part of our lives is behind us now."
Bruce (from the bed): "I understand. And I accept it."
The room fell silent.
Damian (voice tight): "So you're just going to keep leaving? Keep choosing your freedom over your family?"
Dick (kneeling in front of him again): "I'm choosing both. In a way that works for me. Family doesn't mean living in each other's pockets, Dami. It means loving each other even when you're apart. Supporting each other even when you don't understand each other's choices."
Damian: "That's not how Father—"
Dick: "That's not how Bruce taught us, yeah. But maybe it's how we should've been taught. That it's okay to grow. To change. To choose yourself without having to be guilty about it."
Damian (studying him): "And you're happy? This life you've built?"
Dick: "I am. Happier than I've ever been."
Damian (after a long moment): "Then I suppose that must be enough."
It wasn't enthusiastic acceptance. But it was something.
Alfred (from the doorway): "Perhaps we might continue this reunion downstairs? Master Bruce needs rest, and I've prepared refreshments in the sitting room."
Bruce (weakly): "Good idea, Alfred. Dick, Zatanna, will you two stay for dinner?"
Dick (looking at Zatanna, who nodded): "Yeah. We'll stay."
The family began filtering out, some still processing, others already planning how to maximize their time with Dick before he left again.
But as Dick moved to leave, Bruce's voice stopped him.
Bruce: "Dick. One more thing."
Dick (turning): "Yeah?"
Bruce: "Thank you. Really, for coming. For being here. Even when it's hard. Even when we don't deserve it."
Dick (throat tight): "You're family, B. Complicated, dysfunctional, emotionally constipated family. But family. Always."
Bruce (slight smile, rare and precious): "Always."
Dick and Zatanna left, hand in hand, to face whatever came next.
Behind them, Bruce closed his eyes, something like peace settling over his features.
His son had come home.
Even if only for a little while.
Even if everything had changed.
He'd come home.
And sometimes, that was enough.
[Wayne Manor - Library - 6:47 PM]
After the emotional reunion in Bruce's quarters and the subsequent chaos of the entire Bat Family descending, Alfred had shepherded everyone downstairs for refreshments.
As the family dispersed into smaller groups (Tim showing Duke some new tech, Damian challenging Jason to a spar, Stephanie and Cassandra discussing something with Barbara, and Kate and Selina doing their own thing) Dick found himself being gently redirected.
Alfred (quiet but firm): "Master Dick, Miss Zatanna. If you would be so kind as to follow me? Our two guests, who've been quite patient, have been waiting for a word."
Dick and Zatanna exchanged glances. They both knew who Alfred meant.
The library was one of Dick's favorite rooms in the Manor; floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, comfortable leather chairs, and the smell of old paper and wood polish. It had always felt like a sanctuary, a place where even Bruce occasionally relaxed.
Clark Kent stood by the window, still in his civilian clothes, the flannel shirt, jeans, glasses perched on his nose. But his posture screamed Superman, that particular tension that came from being the strongest being in the room and trying very hard to appear non-threatening.
Diana Prince sat in one of the leather chairs, also civilian attire, but somehow still radiating Wonder Woman. Her eyes tracked Dick and Zatanna as they entered, assessing, analyzing, but not hostile.
Alfred (bowing out): "I'll bring tea. And perhaps something stronger."
The door clicked shut behind him with a finality that made Dick's enhanced senses scream.
“This is it. The conversation we've been avoiding for two years.”
Silence stretched. Dick could hear Clark's heartbeat, steady, controlled, but slightly elevated. Could see the micro-expressions Diana wasn't quite hiding, the concern, the relief, the lingering hurt.
Clark (finally, voice gentle): "Dick. Zatanna. Thank you for agreeing to talk."
Zatanna (hand finding Dick's): "We didn't exactly agree. Alfred shepherded us here."
Diana (slight smile): "Alfred has his ways."
More silence. Dick had faced down armed traffickers, demons, Bane's lieutenants with less tension than this.
Dick (finally, because someone had to break the ice): "How've you been? Both of you?"
Clark (surprised by the mundane question): "I… Good. Busy. Lois is doing great, the Daily Planet's demanding as always, And League operations are...", he trailed off, "Different without you two."
Diana: "The Team struggles occasionally. Your tactical insights are missed, Dick. And Zatanna? Your magical expertise created gaps we're still trying to fill."
Zatanna (voice hardening): "Then maybe you shouldn't have suspended us."
The words landed like a bomb.
Clark (wincing): "That's... that's fair. And that's part of why we wanted to talk. To apologize."
Dick (not expecting that): "What?"
Diana (standing, moving closer): "We were wrong. Not about having concerns, your choices were alarming. Working with Deathstroke, studying dark magic, operating without oversight. But we were wrong in how we handled it. In judging rather than listening. In trying to control rather than understand."
Clark (also standing): "I voted for mandatory counseling and probationary status. And for restrictions on your League access.", his voice was thick with regret, "Within a week, I knew it wasn't what you both needed but by then? You were gone. Disappeared so completely that even I couldn't find you."
Dick felt something shift in his chest. Superman admitting fault. Wonder Woman acknowledging their mistake. This was unprecedented.
Dick (carefully): "Why? Why did it take you a week to realize?"
Clark (running a hand through his hair): "Because I saw the reports. The operations you conducted after leaving. The trafficking rings dismantled. The lives saved. Zero casualties. Zero, Dick. In two years, you've conducted over a hundred operations without either killing anyone or having a single casualty.", he paused, "That's not the work of someone compromised. That's the work of someone who's found their calling."
Diana: "And Zatanna. However… muddled the League’s relationship with Constantine is, he still sends reports to the League about supernatural threats. He's mentioned you repeatedly. Your power has grown exponentially, but you've maintained control. Used it to save people. That's not corruption. That's mastery."
Zatanna (tears pricking her eyes): "Then why? Why did you vote to suspend us? Why did you treat us like we were criminals?"
Diana (moving closer, voice soft): "Because we were afraid. Afraid of losing you to darkness. Afraid that Deathstroke would manipulate you, Dick. Afraid that the dark arts would consume you, Zatanna. Afraid that two of the best people we knew would be lost forever."
Clark: "But fear is a terrible advisor. It made us judgmental. Made us see threats where there were only people making difficult choices. Made us forget that you're adults, capable of making your own decisions."
Dick (voice rough): "We needed you to trust us. To believe we knew what we were doing."
Clark (nodding): "I know. And we failed you. I failed you. Because I was scared, and was just trying to make excuses thinking that you could’ve been compromised.", he moved closer, "I'm sorry, Dick. Truly, deeply sorry."
Diana (also stepping forward): "As am I. You both deserved support, not judgement. Understanding, not suspension. And by the time we realized our mistake, you were gone."
Zatanna (wiping her eyes): "We heard the arguments. In the Watchtower. Before we left. Oliver and Barry defending us. J'onn trying to mediate. But you two?", her voice cracked, "You're the Trinity with Bruce. When Superman and Wonder Woman vote against someone, everyone else follows."
Clark (pain evident): "I know. And that weight? That responsibility? I've thought about it every day for two years. Wondered if my vote destroyed something that couldn't be repaired."
Dick (studying them both): "Why tell us this now?”
Diana: "Because you deserved space. Deserved time to build your new life without League interference. We monitored from a distance, I’m sure Bruce told you. Ensuring you were safe, but not pursuing. That was the least we could do after failing you so completely."
Clark: "And because even now when Bruce got hurt? You still came back after everything. That you still care. That despite the exile, despite the judgment, you're still one of us."
Dick felt Zatanna's hand tighten in his. This was the conversation they'd needed two years ago. The acknowledgement. The apology. The understanding.
Dick (voice quiet): "I hope you know. We're not coming back, to the League or to the Team. At least not any time soon."
Clark (nodding): "We know. And we accept it."
Diana: "But that doesn't mean we can't maintain a relationship. That we can't reconnect what we’ve lost. On your terms. With boundaries you set."
Zatanna (searching their faces): "You really mean that? You're not going to try to convince us to return? To 'fix' us?"
Clark (firm): "You're not broken. We see that now. You've grown. You’ve found a path that works for you. Why would we try to fix something that isn't broken?"
Diana: "All we ask is the chance to rebuild trust. Slowly. Carefully. To prove we can support you as you are, not as we wanted you to be."
Dick and Zatanna exchanged long looks, that silent communication that came from two years of perfect partnership.
Dick: ‘What do you think?’
Zatanna: ‘They seem sincere.’
Dick: ‘But can we trust them?’
Zatanna: ‘Maybe. With boundaries.’
Dick (finally): "Okay. We can try. But with conditions."
Clark (eager): "Anything."
Dick: "For starters, no tracking. No surveillance. No 'monitoring for your own good'. If we want you to know where we are, we'll tell you."
Diana: "Agreed."
Zatanna: "Second, no interrogations about our methods. We work with Slade. We work with Constantine. We use techniques the League wouldn't approve of but we don’t kill. You don't have to like it, but you have to respect it."
Clark: "We can do that."
Dick: "Third, and this is non-negotiable, we maintain our independence. We're not League members. Not Team assets. If we help with something, it's because we choose to, not because you expect us to."
Diana (nodding): "Understood. Consultants at best, perhaps. Allies who operate independently."
Zatanna: "And finally, no contact with the rest of the League unless we initiate it. We'll talk to you two. Maybe others if we decide. But we're not interested in formal reintegration or reconciliation with the entire League."
Clark (slight smile): "That's fair. We can be your liaisons if you want. Your contacts if you need League resources or information."
Dick (still cautious): "But why? Why do this? Why reach out now?"
Diana (voice soft): "Because you're still one of us. Complicated, distant, operating in ways we don't fully understand, but still one of us nonetheless. And we don’t give up on each other. Even when we disagree. Even when we choose different paths."
Clark: "And because I saw you with Bruce. Saw you come back despite everything because he was hurt. That's love. That's loyalty. Those things don't disappear just because circumstances change."
He stepped closer, and Dick was struck by how human Clark looked in this moment. Not Superman. Just a man who'd made mistakes and was trying to make amends.
Clark: "I've lost people. My entire planet. Even some people I loved on Earth. And I've learned that holding grudges, maintaining walls? It just creates more loss. I don't want to lose you two. Not when there's a chance to rebuild."
Diana (also stepping forward): "You've both become extraordinary. More effective, more powerful, more yourselves than you were in the League. We should be celebrating that, not punishing it. And if it took working with Deathstroke and Constantine to achieve that, then perhaps we should question our own rigid definitions of heroism."
Dick felt tears prick his eyes. This. This was what they’d needed two years ago. Acceptance. Understanding. The acknowledgment that different didn't mean wrong.
Dick: "Thank you. For saying that. For meaning it."
Zatanna (also crying): "We thought we'd burned all the bridges. That there was no coming back from exile."
Clark (voice gentle): "Bridges can be rebuilt. Maybe not the same as before, but sometimes different is better."
Diana: "And exile implies punishment. Banishment. But what you've done is choose. Chosen a path that serves you better. That makes you happier. That allows you to be more effective. How is that something to punish?"
Dick (laughing through tears): "The League didn't see it that way."
Clark: "The League was wrong. We were wrong.", he extended his hand, "But maybe we can start over? Not as League members or Team leaders, but as friends who respect each other's choices?"
Dick stared at the offered hand for a long moment. Two years of exile. Two years of operating independently. Two years of proving they didn't need League approval.
But maybe they could have something different. Something better.
Dick (taking Clark's hand): "We can try."
Zatanna (also shaking hands with Clark, then Diana): "With boundaries. With respect. With understanding that we're different now."
Diana (pulling Zatanna into a hug): "Understood. And thank you. For giving us this chance. For not shutting us out completely."
Clark (also hugging Dick, and his strength was carefully controlled but the emotion was real): "I missed you, buddy. Missed your tactical insights, your humour, your presence. The League's been duller without you."
Dick (hugging back): "Missed you too, Big Blue. Even when I was angry. Even when I didn't want to admit it."
They pulled apart, and the atmosphere had shifted. Not fixed, too much had happened for easy fixes, but better. Lighter. Hopeful.
Alfred (entering with impeccable timing, carrying a tray): "I've brought tea. And scotch, because I suspect you'll all need it."
Clark (laughing): "You know us too well, Alfred."
Alfred (setting down the tray): "I've served this family for decades, Master Clark. I know when reconciliation requires alcohol."
They settled into chairs, the arrangement casual now instead of confrontational. Alfred poured drinks with practiced ease, then excused himself, leaving them to navigate this fragile new dynamic.
Clark: “Before I forget, I thought you two should know. We never removed your Zeta Tube access.”
Dick and Zatanna gave each other knowing looks.
Dick (surprised): “W-What?”
Diana: “Yes. We had another debate about it, but we decided to not do so. As conflicting as our situation was… We agreed it was for the best. For emergencies, just in case you two needed it.”
The couple gave each other knowing looks again.
Zatanna: “I… We… We don’t know what to say.”
Clark (smiling): “You don’t have to, it’s the least we could do. And I guess because, many of us were hoping you two would show up one day.”
Diana: “The designations you’ve updated still stands. Renegade, B-0-1. Sorceress, 2-5.”
Dick (taking a deep breath): “Thank you. That… that means a lot.”
The four of them settled into a comfortable silence as Alfred and Selina handled the preparations for supper down stairs.
Dick and Clark had readied shots of scotch, Zatanna and Diana prepared tea.
Diana (taking her tea): "So. Tell us about your work. Not to judge or interrogate, but because we're genuinely curious. Constantine's reports are entertaining but lack more… specific details."
Zatanna (slight smile with a light laugh): "Where do we even begin?"
And just like that, they were talking. Really talking. About operations and close calls, about Slade's teaching methods and Constantine's chaos, about the freedom of operating without oversight and the fear of never knowing if you'd gone too far.
Dick found himself explaining the serum, the enhanced abilities, the way Slade had rebuilt him from the ground up into something more. Clark listened without judgment, asking questions that showed genuine interest rather than concern.
Zatanna described her magical studies, the dark arts that had terrified the League, the control she'd developed through Constantine's unorthodox methods. Diana listened with the attention of someone who understood power and the responsibility it carried.
Time passed. The tea went cold. The scotch diminished. And slowly, carefully, something rebuilt itself.
Not what they'd had. But something new.
A friendship between equals. Between people who'd chosen different paths but still cared about each other.
A bridge made of respect and understanding rather than obligation and expectation.
By the time they were done, Alfred was calling them for dinner as Selina and Kate helped Bruce to come join them. Alfred was insistent on the bed rest, but Bruce being Bruce, he wanted to be on the table with them.
[Later That Night - Guest Room]
Alfred had prepared Dick's old room, but it felt too much like regression. Too much like trying to recapture something that no longer existed.
So they'd requested a guest room instead. Neutral territory.
Dick lay in bed, Zatanna curled against his side, processing the evening.
Zatanna (quietly): "Today was a lot."
Dick (fingers tracing patterns on her arm): "Yeah. Bruce, the family, Clark and Diana. A lot of emotions."
Zatanna: "Do you regret coming?"
Dick (without hesitation): "No. It was hard, but necessary. Bruce needed to see we're okay. The family needed closure. And Clark and Diana...", he paused, "That conversation needed to happen. Should've happened two years ago."
Zatanna: "Think they'll keep their promises? The boundaries?"
Dick: "I think they'll try. And if they don't, we walk away again. We've proven we can."
Zatanna (pressing closer): "I'm glad we came. Glad we didn't shut them out completely."
Dick: "Me too. Exile doesn't have to mean isolation. We can always have both. Our independence and our connections. Just on our terms."
Zatanna (lifting her head to look at him): "When did you get so wise?"
Dick (grinning): "Somewhere between fighting demons and dismantling trafficking rings. Wisdom through chaos."
Zatanna (laughing): "That should be our motto."
Dick: "Better than 'Renegade and Sorceress: We'll Probably Survive™'."
Zatanna: "Only probably?"
Dick: "I like to keep expectations realistic."
They kissed, soft and sweet, grounding themselves in each other after a day of emotional upheaval.
Tomorrow they'd face the rest of the family again. Navigate more conversations. Continue building bridges.
But tonight, they had each other.
Home.
Even in a guest room in a house that was no longer theirs.
Even after two years of exile.
Even with everything that had changed.
Home.
Chapter 25: "Reconnection"
Summary:
Five weeks after visiting Bruce and the Family at the Manor, Dick and Zee are in another op somewhere around the world.
And just like Kaznia? They run into the Team... Again...
Chapter Text
[Kuala Lumpur - Industrial District - 2:34 AM - Five Weeks After Homecoming]
The warehouse district was a maze of shipping containers and abandoned buildings, perfect territory for the kind of people who trafficked meta-humans. Dick moved through the darkness with practiced efficiency, Renegade suit blending with shadows, enhanced senses tracking seventeen heat signatures scattered across three levels.
Beside him, Sorceress wove purple-black magic through blind spots, creating pockets of silence where alarms should be screaming.
Dick (subvocal comms): "Seventeen hostiles. Twelve meta-human captives in the basement. Same MO as Belgrade and Kaznia."
Zatanna: "Wards are decent but nothing I haven't seen before. Give me forty seconds."
Slade's voice crackled through from their safehouse position.
Slade (over comms): "Thermal confirms your count. Wintergreen's got the exfil prepped. You've got maybe twenty minutes before local authorities show up."
Dick checked his escrima sticks, fully charged and ready to go. The Glock at his hip remained holstered, backup only, untouched through dozens of operations.
Non-lethal. Always non-lethal. That's the line.
Zatanna's counter-spell shimmered through the air, and the facility's magical wards collapsed with a sound like breaking glass.
Zatanna: "We're clear. Moving in."
They split up with Dick taking upper levels, Zatanna descending to the captives.
The first guard never saw it coming. Dick's escrima stick connected with surgical precision, and the man dropped, unconscious before hitting concrete.
“One down. Sixteen to go.”
Dick moved like violence made elegant, every technique Slade had drilled into him, every lesson Bruce had taught him as Robin, combined into something new. Not Batman's protégé. Not Deathstroke's apprentice.
Renegade.
Three more guards fell in quick succession—throat strikes, nerve clusters, joint manipulations that would hurt for weeks but leave them alive.
Always alive.
Wintergreen (over comms): "Bishop here. Picking up multiple enemy reinforcements on the radar."
Slade: "Copy that. Renegade, Sorceress, you've got company. Four vehicles, estimated twenty combatants. This just got complicated."
Dick (grim): "When isn't it complicated? Sorceress, status?"
Zatanna (from below): "Captives freed. Moving them to—wait."
Silence.
Dick's enhanced hearing picked it up a second later, the distinctive whoosh of displaced air that meant someone was moving fast.
Very fast.
Wintergreen: "Incoming aerial signature. That's... bloody hell, that's the Bioship!"
Dick (dread settling in his stomach): "Ah shit."
The warehouse's northern wall exploded inward.
And through the smoke and debris came the Team.
Their Team.
Wally in the lead, yellow and red blur already moving. Artemis with her crossbow raised. Kaldur with water-bearers ready. M'gann hovering, telepathic presence sweeping the building. Conner cracking his knuckles. Raquel's kinetic field already glowing.
They all froze when they saw Renegade.
And behind them was the Bat Family with Tim in Red Robin gear, Jason with Red Hood helmet reflecting emergency lights, Damian's hand on his sword, Stephanie, Cassandra, and Duke spreading out with practiced efficiency.
Time seemed to stop.
Wally (voice breaking): "Dick?"
Dick's hands tightened on his escrima sticks. Two years of carefully maintained separation, and here they were, face to face on a mission neither had expected.
Wintergreen: "Lad, I’m still five minutes out. What's your play?"
Dick made a split-second decision.
Dick (voice modulated by mask but exhausted): "Stand by. We may be working on the same target for this one… Again."
Tim (stepping forward, analytical even through surprise): "Then let us help. We can evacuate the hostages while you handle—"
The building shook. Not from the Bioship's entrance.
From the incoming vehicles Wintergreen had warned about.
Slade: "Hostiles engaging. Twenty combatants confirmed, heavily armed. This is about to get messy."
Kaldur (water-bearers glowing): "Then we work together, as we should have all along."
Dick and Zatanna exchanged looks, two years of partnership making the decision effortless.
Zatanna (stepping forward from the basement entrance, twelve freed meta-humans behind her): "Fine. But stay out of our way with the traffickers, we'll handle them."
Artemis (relief flooding her features): "Deal."
What followed was chaos.
The Kobra reinforcements came in full force armed with meta-human suppression technology, magical dampeners, and enough firepower to level the warehouse.
But they faced something they'd never prepared for, two teams who'd saved the world multiple times, working in perfect synchronization despite years of separation.
Dick led the spear himself at the head followed by Wally and Tim, moving through the Kobra forces with devastating efficiency. Enhanced speed and reflexes making him faster than any normal human had right to be.
Wally (keeping pace, impressed despite himself): "Dude, how did you get this fast?"
Dick (taking down three opponents in as many seconds): "Good training."
Tim (analyzing Dick's style while fighting): "What has Deathstroke been doing to you—"
Dick (cutting him off): "Later. Focus."
Zatanna coordinated magical defense with M'gann's telepathy and Raquel's kinetic fields, creating a protective barrier around the captives while systematically dismantling Kobra's magical support.
M'gann (telepathically): "Your power has grown exponentially."
Zatanna (binding three attackers with purple chains): "Had a good teacher. Or several."
Jason, Damian, and Conner formed the front line with Red Hood's precise shots (rubber rounds, Dick noted), Robin's sword work, and Superboy's Kryptonian strength making short work of anyone stupid enough to push forward.
Jason (to Damian): "Not bad, demon-spawn."
Damian (parrying an attack): "Your approval is noted but unnecessary, Todd."
Artemis, Kaldur, Stephanie, Cassandra, and Duke provided tactical support and crowd control, their years of training evident in every movement.
It was beautiful. Chaotic. Perfect.
Like they'd never been apart.
For fifteen glorious minutes, Dick forgot about exile, about judgment, about everything except the mission and the people fighting beside him.
Then, it all went to shit.
The Kobra commander triggered a dead man's switch.
The entire facility's structural supports began collapsing systematically, designed to kill everyone inside if the cult couldn't complete their ritual.
Dick (over the open frequency): "Everyone out! Building's coming down!"
Wally (already evacuating hostages at super-speed): "On it!"
But there were too many. Thirty hostages, scattered across three levels, and only seconds before the facility became a tomb.
Dick (calculating, making the call): "Sorceress! Mass teleportation! Get the hostages out of here!"
Zatanna (hands blazing with purple energy): "That's too many! The strain—"
Dick: "Do it! I'll hold the supports!"
Artemis (voice sharp): "Dick! That's suicide—"
Dick (already moving, using every technique Slade taught him to identify load-bearing points): "Just go!"
He moved through the collapsing structure as fast as he could, Wintergreen had made some modifications to his escrima sticks to include gravitational dampeners creating temporary support where concrete and steel failed; he guessed now was the best time than any to test them.
Zatanna's spell flared, purple-black energy enveloping all thirty hostages and the Team, preparing to teleport them—
A support beam cracked.
Dick saw it happening in slow motion; the trajectory, the weight distribution, the fact that it was going to hit Zatanna from behind while she concentrated on the spell.
He didn't think.
Just moved.
Throwing himself between the falling steel and Zatanna, taking the impact across his back and shoulders.
The world just turned into pain.
He heard something *crack*. His bones, maybe his ribs, maybe his spine? And the taste of copper flooded his mouth.
But Zatanna completed her spell.
The hostages, the Team, and the Family vanished in a flash of purple light.
Leaving Dick alone in a collapsing building, broken and bleeding.
“Worth it. She's safe. They're all safe.”
His comms crackled.
Wintergreen (frantic): "Renegade! Status! Richard, fuck’s sake lad respond!"
Dick (coughing blood): "Building's coming down. Hostages evacuated. I'm—"
Another support gave way.
The ceiling fell.
[Outside the Facility - 2:51 AM]
Zatanna materialized with the Team and hostages just as the building collapsed behind them.
For a moment, she didn't process it. Too focused on maintaining the spell, on making sure everyone was safe—
Then realization hit like a physical blow.
Zatanna (spinning, seeing the rubble): "DICK!"
She ran, magic already forming, preparing to tear through concrete and steel—
Wally (catching her arm): "Zatanna, wait! The structure's unstable—"
Zatanna (rounding on him, power crackling): "He's in there! He's—"
M'gann (telepathic voice urgent): "I can sense him! He's alive but hurt! Badly hurt!"
Jason: “WELL WHAT ARE WE STANDING AROUND FOR? GO!”
Conner (already moving toward the rubble): "We dig. Now!"
They worked together with Conner lifting debris and M'gann using telekinesis; Zatanna blasting through obstacles; Wally vibrating through smaller gaps; Tim, Jason and, Damian making haste; Artemis and Raquel coordinating as Kaldur directed the effort.
Five minutes that felt like hours.
Then Wally found him.
Wally (voice breaking over comms): "Got him! He's—fuck, he's bad. Really bad."
They pulled Dick from the rubble carefully, Zatanna's hands already glowing with healing magic even as tears streamed down her face.
His Renegade suit was damaged, the premium materials it was made out of lay torn as the armoured plates were blown off during the collapse. His blood was everywhere. His breathing was shallow and laboured.
But he was still alive.
Tim (voice professional but terrified): "Punctured lung, maybe worse? Definitely multiple broken ribs. Shoulders dislocated, he's healing but not fast enough—"
M'gann (telepathic scan): "Internal bleeding. Something’s trying to compensate for it but—"
Artemis (to Zatanna): "We need to get him to the Watchtower. Now!"
Kaldur (firm but gentle): "Artemis is right. We can get him to the Watchtower in minutes."
Zatanna (looking up, and her expression was fierce): "No League! No Watchtower. We have our own—"
Dick (coughing, blood on his lips, voice weak): "Zee..."
Zatanna (leaning close): "Don't talk. Don't move. I've got you—"
Dick: "Call... call Slade... extraction..."
Artemis (voice tight): "Dick, you're hurt too badly. You need League medical—"
Dick (trying to push himself up, failing): "No League. No—"
He coughed again, more blood.
Zatanna's comms crackled.
Slade (voice dangerously calm): "Status report. Now."
Zatanna could only stare at the man she loved, her face pale behind her own domino mask, terrified. Praying that he could make it.
Zatanna (torn, looking at Dick's blood on her hands, then at the Team): "Deathstroke. Renegade's hurt. Badly. Building collapse. He needs—"
Slade: "Bishop's three minutes out. We'll handle it."
But Zatanna looked at Dick, at how pale he was, at how his breathing was getting weaker—
And she looked at the Team; her old friends, her family, watching with concern and care.
Wally (kneeling beside her): "Zee, please! Let us help. We have the best medical tech in the world on the Watchtower! We can save him!"
M'gann: "I can monitor his vitals telepathically. Keep him stable during transport."
Conner: "The Bioship's faster than any extraction helicopter."
Zatanna felt the weight of the decision. Trust the Team? Trust the League? After everything?
But Dick was dying.
And sometimes, pride was less important than survival.
Zatanna (activating comms): "Deathstroke? Bishop? Change of plans. We're evacuating with the Team. Renegade's been hurt real bad and he needs immediate attention."
Silence on the line.
Then.
Silence on the other end.
Slade: "Are you sure about this? Bishop’s already en route."
Dick tried to speak, to tell her it was fine, they could wait for Wintergreen but blood filled his mouth instead.
The Team and Family watched, waiting.
M'gann, Artemis, and Tim were already working on stabilizing him with pressure on all the external wounds, checking his vitals, doing what they could with limited field equipment.
Zatanna looked at them. At Dick. At the choice in front of her.
Trust them. Or maintain the walls.
Zatanna (voice firm): "I'm sure."
More silence.
Then:
Slade: "Fine. But keep us posted. If they try anything, let us know immediately."
Wintergreen (already in the helicopter): "Bishop returning to base. Lass, I hope you know what you're doing."
Zatanna (meeting Wally's desperate eyes): "I do."
Wintergreen: "Alright. Good luck."
The comms went silent.
Kaldur (water-bearers forming a stretcher): "The Bioship is ready. We can taken him to the Watchtower in minutes."
Wally (vibrating with barely-contained panic): "Then let's go!"
They lifted Dick carefully, Jason and Conner taking most of the weight, Tim and M'gann monitoring vitals, Zatanna's magic providing additional support and pain relief.
The meta-human captives were loaded first, then Dick, then the combined teams.
As the Bioship lifted off, Dick's vision was starting to blur, the serum fighting to keep him conscious, to heal damage faster than it was accumulating.
Through the haze, he saw Zatanna's face above him, her hand gripping his.
Zatanna (voice breaking): "Stay with me. Don't you dare die on me, Dick Grayson. Don't you dare."
Dick (trying to smile, blood on his teeth): "Wouldn't... dream of it..."
Then darkness took him.
[The Bioship - In Transit - 2:58 AM]
The Bioship's medical bay was cramped with Dick laid out on the bio-bed, M'gann's hands glowing green as she worked with the ship's systems to stabilize him.
Zatanna sat beside him, one hand clutching his, the other maintaining a healing spell that kept his worst injuries from getting worse.
The rest of the Team crowded around, giving space but present.
Tim (scanning with medical equipment): "Three broken ribs, one punctured lung, hairline fracture in his spine. Whatever Slade injected him with is keeping him alive but barely."
Jason (who'd arrived with Tim, arms crossed but eyes worried): "Fucking idiot. Taking a support beam for someone else."
Damian (also present, unusually quiet): "Father would call it tactically unsound."
Steph (elbowing him): "Bruce might’ve done the same thing."
M'gann (concentration evident): "His vitals are stabilizing. The Watchtower medical team is prepping for immediate surgery when we arrive."
Zatanna (voice hollow): "How long?"
Kaldur (standing at the entrance): "Four minutes."
Artemis (sitting across from Zatanna): "He's going to be okay, Zee. Dick's survived worse."
Zatanna (going somber): "I can't… I can’t remember the last time I've seen him this badly hurt."
Raquel: "The Reach’s invasion. When he held the line at the perimeter for seven hours while we evacuated civilians."
Wally (quiet): "He almost died then too. Wouldn't let anyone help until everyone else was safe."
Conner: "That's just Dick. Stupid and self-sacrificing."
Zatanna (tears falling): "And we let him. Every damn time. Let him be the one who takes the hits, makes the hard calls, carries the weight—"
M'gann (gentle): "Because that's who he is. And we're here now. Helping."
Tim (voice thick): "We're almost there, Dick. Just hold on."
Zatanna never let go of his hand, clutching it as tight as she could.
She could only hope that his healing factor could handle the most of it, and where it couldn’t, she kept her concentration on her spells keeping him alive.
[The Watchtower - Medical Bay - 3:07 AM]
The League's medical team descended immediately as the Bioship landed at the hangar bay; Dr. Thompkins was at the helm with assistance from various other League medical personnel.
Zatanna was forced to let go, to step back, to trust.
The hardest thing she'd ever done.
The Team and Bat Family waited in the observation room, watching through glass as the doctors worked.
Surgery. Two hours. Critical but stable.
When it was done, when Dick was moved to recovery, bandaged and medicated and alive, only one person was allowed in.
Zatanna didn’t waste a second, the Team and the Family parted for her.
[The Watchtower - Medical Bay - 5:20 AM]
Dick woke slowly, consciousness returning in fragments.
White ceiling. Antiseptic smell. Soft beeping.
Medical bay. League medical bay.
His memories came crashing back; the Kobra commander and the dead man switch, the explosion, the choice to save Zatanna and the others, and the steel beam collapsing on him.
His enhanced healing had done its work, aided by League medical tech. The pain was distant now, manageable, contained.
Dick tried to sit up—
"Easy.", the familiar voice of the woman he loved called to him, soft and exhausted, "You've been out for two hours. Your healing factor's doing its work, but even it needs time."
Dick turned his head. She sat in a chair beside the bed, still in her Sorceress gear but mask removed, face pale with exhaustion and lingering fear.
Dick (voice hoarse): "And the captives?"
Zatanna: "Safe. All twelve evacuated to League protection. The Kobra cell is neutralized, don’t worry, we got the job done."
Dick: "And the Team?"
Zatanna (something complicated crossing her face): "Waiting outside, have been for hours. They won't leave until they know you're okay."
Dick closed his eyes, processing that.
Dick (trying to form his words): “Zee, I—”
He didn’t even have a chance, Zatanna smashed her lips on to his, tears staining her cheeks.
He could taste the salt of when she cried.
When they pulled apart, foreheads touching, she looked up to him with pleading eyes.
Zatanna (between sobs): “Don’t ever scare me like that ever again!”
Dick: “I didn’t think, Zee. I just… I don’t know, all I knew was that I had to protect you.”
Zatanna: “Fuck’s sake, Dick. You could’ve given me a warning before you dove head-first into a building collapse.”
Dick: “There was no time. You were casting your spell, I had to.”
They stayed there in each other's arms, Zatanna being mindful of his injuries.
Zatanna: “Please… Never scare me like that ever again. I don-t… I don’t think I can handle it if you died.”
He pulled her in close, smelling the scent of her jasmine and vanilla alongside the residue of smoke, ash, sweat, and concrete.
Dick: “I’ll try.”
She rested her head on his shoulders.
As they settled into a comfortable silence, Dick took the courage to ask her as to where the others were.
Dick: “Everyone’s still there?”
Zatanna: “Outside, waiting.”
They stayed. They waited. They cared.
A knock at the door interrupted.
Zatanna (standing): "I'll tell them you're awake."
Dick (catching her hand): "Zee—"
Zatanna (turning back): "Yeah?"
Dick: "Thank you. For trusting them, for choosing to let them help."
Zatanna (squeezing his hand): "You're alive. That's all that matters.", she paused. "Besides, maybe it's time we stop running from the people who actually care about us."
Before Dick could respond, she opened the door.
And everyone filed in.
Wally, Kaldur, M'gann, Conner, Artemis, and Raquel, followed by Tim, Jason, Damian, Stephanie, Cassandra, and Duke.
All of them looking exhausted, worried, but relieved too.
Wally (moving first, voice thick): "You asshole! Diving head first into a building collapse. Do you have a fucking death wish?"
Dick (attempting levity): "Wouldn't be the first time."
Wally (not laughing): "Not funny, Dick."
Artemis (stepping forward): "You saved those kids. All of them. If you hadn't—", she stopped, composing herself, "Thanks."
Dick: "Just doing my job."
Kaldur (voice measured but warm): "It was good to fight beside you again, my friend. Even under such circumstances."
M'gann: "You’ve been doing good, if anything, you've definitely improved."
Conner: "And your combat effectiveness is... concerning. But impressive."
Raquel: "You and Zee worked like clockwork. It's kind of beautiful, actually."
Dick felt something shift in his chest. Acknowledgment. Respect. Acceptance.
Tim (analytical even now): "The healing factor. That's new. Or at least, not something you had before."
Dick: "Part of the training package."
Jason (arms crossed): "Slade's work?"
Dick (meeting his gaze): "Among others."
Damian (surprisingly): "You fought well, Grayson. Your tactical efficiency was... acceptable."
Dick (slight smile): "High praise from you, Dami."
Stephanie: "So… I’m guessing we’re about to have another talk?"
The question hung heavy.
Dick looked around at all of them, the people him and Zatanna fought beside for years, the people they’d missed despite everything.
Dick (finally): "I don't know. Zee and I... we've built something. A life. On our terms. And I can't… I don’t think we can give that up."
Wally (stepping closer): "No one's asking you to. We just...", he struggled for words, "We just want to be part of your life again. In whatever way you'll allow."
Artemis: "The secret meetups with me and Jason work. Maybe we can do something similar? For all of us?"
M'gann: "We're not trying to bring you back to the Team or convince you to rejoin the League. We just... we miss our friends."
Zatanna (from her position by the door): "We miss you too. Maybe even more than what we want to admit."
Silence fell as the couple tried to process all of it.
Dick took a careful breath, testing his newly-healed injuries. The League medical team had done excellent work, combined with his enhanced healing, he'd be back to full capacity in days rather than weeks.
Dick: "If we do this, and I'm saying if, there’s gotta be conditions to it."
Kaldur (nodding): "Name it."
Dick: "First, no tracking. No surveillance. No 'monitoring for our safety'. If we want you to know where we are, we'll tell you."
Tim: "You already had the Family agree to a similar deal."
Dick: "Fair point.”
Zatanna: "Second, no interrogations about our methods or who we work with. We operate how we operate. You don't have to like it, but you have to respect it."
Conner: "Agreeable."
Dick: "Third, we maintain our independence. We're not Team assets or League members. If we help with something, it's because we choose to, not because you expect us to."
Wally (voice firm): "We're not trying to recruit you back. We just want our friends back. In whatever capacity both are comfortable with."
Zatanna (moving to stand beside Dick's bed): "And finally, this goes both ways. We'll try to stay connected, but you have to accept that we're different now. That Renegade and Sorceress aren't temporary identities. This is who we've become."
Artemis: "We can do that. It might take time to fully understand, but we can try."
M'gann (gentle telepathic brush against their minds, asking permission): "May I?"
Dick and Zatanna nodded.
M'gann's presence touched their minds carefully, respectfully, not invasively, just connecting. And through that connection, they felt what she was sharing with the room.
Months of worry. Nights spent tracking operations, hoping they were okay. Relief every time a report came in showing they were alive, effective, still themselves. Pride at their successes. Grief at their absence. Love that had never diminished despite the separation.
When M'gann pulled back, Zatanna was crying again and Dick's eyes were wet.
Because they'd thought, they'd believed, that leaving meant burning those bridges forever. That choosing themselves meant losing everyone else.
But here was proof that love didn't work that way. That family, real family, could bend without breaking.
Jason (breaking the emotional moment with typical Jason-ness): "So. Are we doing this or what? Because I didn't wait around the med bay for two hours just for another round of waterworks."
Dick (laughing despite himself): "I think we can work this out."
Wally (grin breaking across his face): "Really?"
Zatanna: "With boundaries. With respect. With understanding that we're not coming back to how things were."
Artemis: "But maybe we can build something new?"
Dick: "Yeah. We can try."
Wally launched himself forward, pulling Dick into a careful hug that accounted for his healing injuries but was no less fierce for it.
Wally (voice thick): "I missed you so much, man. So fucking much."
Dick (hugging back): "Missed you too, Walls. More than I want to admit."
Artemis joined, then M'gann, then everyone; a careful group hug that somehow managed to include everyone without crushing Dick's healing body.
When they finally pulled apart, everyone was smiling through tears.
Kaldur: "Perhaps we could arrange regular meetings? Nothing formal. Just...", he searched for words, "Just friends gathering. Sharing meals. Catching up."
Zatanna: "We'd like that. With the Family too, if they're willing."
Tim (pulling off his Red Robin mask): "We're willing. Trust me, we're very willing."
Stephanie: "Does this mean we can finally add you to the group chat?"
Dick (laughing): "God, no. I left that nightmare for a reason."
Jason: "Smart man."
Damian (surprisingly emotional): "Grayson. I...", he struggled, not used to expressing vulnerability, "I am pleased you are not deceased."
Dick (smiling): "Thanks, Dami. I'm pleased about that too."
Raquel: "So what now? We all pretend the last two years didn't happen?"
Zatanna (shaking her head): "No. We acknowledge them. Learn from them. Build something better because of them."
M'gann: "I think that's beautiful."
The door opened, and Dr. Thompkins entered with a tablet.
Dr. Thompkins: "Mr. Grayson, I need to—", she stopped, taking in the crowd, "Well. This is more visitors than protocol allows, but I suppose I can make an exception."
She moved to check Dick's vitals, professional despite the audience.
Dr. Thompkins: "You're healing remarkably fast. Whatever that serum is, it's impressive. You'll be cleared for discharge in a few hours.", she paused, studying him, "Though I'd recommend rest. Real rest. Not 'Dick Grayson rest' which usually means jumping rooftops twelve hours later."
Dick (innocent): "I would never."
Everyone laughed because they all knew he absolutely would.
Dr. Thompkins (exiting): "I'll leave you to your reunion but don't tire him out. He still needs recovery time."
After she left, the group settled into more comfortable positions, some sitting on the extra medical bay chairs, others leaning against walls, creating a casual circle.
Conner: "So. Tell us about the last two years. What we missed."
And just like that, they were talking. Really talking.
Dick and Zatanna shared stories, carefully edited but still honest. Operations they'd run. Close calls they'd survived. Working with Slade, Bishop, and Constantine. The freedom of operating without bureaucracy.
The Team shared their own experiences; missions without their tactical leader, the way the dynamics had shifted, how they'd grown and changed.
Time passed. The tension that had defined their separation slowly dissolving into something warmer.
Wally (finally): "We were in Kuala Lumpur tracking the same Kobra cell you were. How long have you been on this case?"
Dick: "Four weeks. We were following the trail from Belgrade."
Tim: "We've been on it for only two. Multiple intelligence sources pointed to Kuala Lumpur as the regional hub."
Zatanna: "And neither of us knew the other was investigating."
Kaldur: "Perhaps that is something we could coordinate in the future? Share intelligence on major operations?"
Dick and Zatanna exchanged glances.
Coordination meant connection. Connection meant accountability. But it also meant support. Resources. Backup.
Dick: "We could set up a secure channel. Nothing formal. Just information sharing when our operations overlap."
Tim (already pulling out his phone): "I can have that encrypted and operational by tomorrow."
Artemis: "Does this mean we can actually plan to work together sometimes?"
Zatanna: "Maybe. If the ops align with our boundaries."
M'gann: "This is more than we hoped for. Thank you. For giving us this chance."
The door opened again, and this time it was Barbara, wheeling in with Oracle setup integrated into her chair.
Barbara (seeing the gathering): "Well. This is cozy."
Dick (genuine smile): "Babs."
Barbara (wheeling closer): "Heard you got yourself blown up, again. You really need to work on your self-preservation instincts."
Dick: "Says the woman who took a bullet from the Joker."
Barbara: "Touché.", she looked around at everyone. "So. We're doing this? Actually rebuilding?"
Zatanna: "Trying to. With boundaries. With respect."
Barbara (nodding): "Good. Because I've been patient for two years, but my patience has limits. And those limits include monthly check-ins or I will hunt you down."
Dick (laughing): "We’ll keep that in mind."
Jason: "Speaking of which, where were you two staying in Kuala Lumpur? Because if you need a better place to crash, I know some guys who could—"
Slade (over the comms that were still active in Dick's gear): "They have arrangements, Red Hood, but your concern is noted."
The entire room froze.
Wally (slowly): "Was that…?"
Dick (wincing): "Ah shit. Forgot to turn off comms."
Wintergreen: "Congratulations on surviving, lad. Sorceress made the right call bringing you to the Watchtower. Well done, everyone."
Awkward silence stretched.
Tim (carefully): "So…"
Zatanna: "They're our partners, don’t act too surprised."
Slade: "And before anyone gets ideas about tracking these communications, don't. Bishop’s encryption is better than anything the League or Oracle have."
Barbara (dry): "That's debatable."
Wintergreen: "Is it though?"
Despite the tension, a few people smiled.
Jason (shaking his head): "This is weird. Like, really weird."
Dick: "Welcome to our lives."
Slade: "Since we're all communicating, I'll keep this brief. The operative in question is healing well, we approve of the medical intervention, carry on."
Wintergreen: "And we'll be monitoring to ensure no one attempts anything... untoward. Just so we're clear."
M'gann: "We're not trying to trap them or force them back. You have our word."
Slade: "Good. Then we won't have problems."
The comms clicked off.
Artemis (after a beat): "Your life is insane."
Zatanna (laughing): "You have no idea."
The atmosphere had shifted again, but not negatively. More like everyone was acknowledging the complexity of the situation. The weird, tangled mess of alliances and loyalties that Dick and Zatanna had built.
Kaldur: "Perhaps we should let you rest. We can continue this conversation another time."
Dick: "Actually, I'd like to keep talking. If that's okay. It's been... good. Seeing all of you."
Wally: "Yeah?"
Dick: "Yeah."
And so they stayed, the Original Team and Bat Family, sitting with Dick and Zatanna in that medical bay, talking, laughing, slowly rebuilding bridges that had been burned two years ago.
It wasn't perfect. It wasn't easy. They were all different now—changed by time, experience, choices made in isolation.
But maybe that was okay. Maybe different didn't have to mean broken.
Maybe they could build something new from the ashes of what they'd lost.
Together.
Not the same as before. But maybe something better.
As dawn light began filtering through the Watchtower windows, Dick looked around at the people gathered and felt something he hadn't in two years:
Hope.
Not that they'd go back to how things were, that was impossible. But they could at least move forward. Together in whatever form that took.
Zatanna's hand found his, squeezing gently.
They'd made their choice two years ago. To be free. To be themselves.
And now, they were learning that freedom didn't have to mean isolation.
That they could have both, their independence and their connections.
It would take work. Take time. Take patience and understanding from everyone involved.
But looking at the faces around them, the people who'd waited in a medical bay for hours, the people who'd fought beside them without hesitation, the who'd never stopped caring despite the separation? They thought maybe it was possible.
Maybe they really could have it all.
Freedom.
Love.
Family.
Home.
On their terms. With their boundaries. In their own way.
And honestly?
That sounded pretty damn perfect.
[Current Status - Two Years, Five Weeks Into Exile]
Developments:
- First joint operation with Original Team since Bucharest
- Emergency medical intervention successful
- Bridges beginning reconstruction
- Regular contact established
- Boundaries set and respected
- Slade and Wintergreen monitoring (but not interfering)
Personal Status:
- Dick Grayson: Healing, reconnecting, hopeful
- Zatanna Zatara: Cautiously optimistic
- Original Team: Relieved, supportive, committed to rebuilding
- Bat Family: Engaged, respectful of boundaries
Mission Stats Remain:
- Total operations: 128
- Total lives saved: 3,859
- Casualties: 0
- Success rate: 100%
Conclusion: Sometimes the hardest battles aren't against villains or trafficking rings. Sometimes they're about learning to let people back in after you've built walls to protect yourself.
Dick and Zatanna are learning that lesson now.
And maybe—just maybe—it's the most important mission they've ever undertaken.
Chapter 26: "Bargains and Chances"
Summary:
Three weeks after encountering the Team in Kuala Lumpur and them helping in saving Dick's life, Zee and Dick now stood in the middle of Central Park as Diana tells them that Doctor Fate wants to... talk?
Chapter Text
[Central Park - 11:47 PM - Three Weeks After Kuala Lumpur]
The park was technically closed, but that had never stopped Dick Grayson and Zatanna Zatara before. What would have stopped normal people was the purple-black barrier shimmering at the edges of perception, Zatanna's magic creating a pocket of privacy in the heart of Manhattan.
Dick stood slightly behind Zatanna, hand resting on the small of her back, support, grounding, partnership. Two years of being together had made them experts at presenting a united front.
And they needed that now, facing Doctor Fate.
When Diana had told Zatanna that Nabu wanted to talk, she hesitated on what to do next.
After talking it out with Dick, they decided to hear what he had to say, together.
The golden figure stood twenty feet away, imposing even in stillness, the Helmet of Fate reflecting moonlight like a second sun. Behind that golden shroud, Giovanni Zatara was trapped, had been trapped for eight years now.
Eight years since Zatanna had put on the Helmet to save the world from Klarion, eight years since her father had sacrificed himself to free her, eight years of absence that had shaped everything Zatanna had become.
Doctor Fate's voice resonated with dual tones, both with Nabu's ancient power layered over Giovanni's Italian accent.
Doctor Fate: "You actually came."
Zatanna (voice carefully controlled): "You said you wanted to talk."
Doctor Fate: "With him present?", the helmet tilted toward Dick, "Are you sure about this?"
Zatanna (stepping forward, protective): "He's my partner, you jackass. Either you talk to the both of us or we walk."
Dick felt a surge of pride. Two years ago, Zatanna might have come alone, might have tried to handle this herself. But exile had taught them the value of their partnership, of never facing the darkness alone.
Doctor Fate (nodding after a long pause): "Very well."
Silence stretched. Dick could feel the weight of Nabu's attention, that ancient, alien consciousness studying them with interest that felt almost invasive.
Finally, Doctor Fate spoke.
Doctor Fate: "I have… considered the words you said."
Zatanna (confused): "What words?"
Doctor Fate: "About my... individuality. Of my actions in manifesting myself on the mortal plane. Of how I bind myself to physical hosts."
Dick felt Zatanna tense. This was the conversation they'd had two years ago, in the holding cells, when she'd screamed at Doctor Fate about taking her father away. About making a fourteen-year-old watch helplessly as her dad sacrificed everything to save her.
Zatanna (voice tight): "And?"
Doctor Fate: "You are correct. What I did, taking your father away from you at such a young age… That is unbecoming of a Lord of Order. How can I call myself a Lord of Order when it was my... stubbornness that has caused great pain, suffering, and chaos?"
Dick's hand tightened on Zatanna's back. This was unprecedented. Lords of Order didn't apologize. Didn't admit fault. Nabu operated on cosmic scales where individual suffering was acceptable collateral damage.
Something's changed. Something fundamental.
Silence hung heavy. Dick could hear Zatanna's breathing, controlled but rapid, like she was preparing for a fight or holding back tears.
Doctor Fate: "I have consulted with members of the Justice League. And I have decided."
Zatanna (voice barely above a whisper): "Decided on what?"
Doctor Fate: "The world is still in need of Doctor Fate. That has not changed. But not under these conditions. Not at the cost of families torn apart. Not at the price of children watching their parents disappear."
Dick and Zatanna exchanged glances. Where is this going?
Doctor Fate: "I have agreed for the League to find me a new host. Someone suitable and actually willing to serve as the vessel of Doctor Fate for a prolonged period of time. Someone who understands the sacrifice and makes it with full knowledge and consent without having to feel… Obligated or ‘strong-armed’ to do so…"
Dick felt Zatanna start to shake. He stepped closer, arm wrapping around her waist, holding her steady.
Doctor Fate: "And in exchange..."
The pause felt eternal.
Doctor Fate: "I will free your father."
Silence.
Complete, devastating silence.
Dick felt Zatanna go rigid against him, like every muscle had locked simultaneously. Her breathing stopped. The world seemed to stop.
Zatanna (voice breaking): "W-What?"
Doctor Fate: "Giovanni has served me long enough. And after Kent Nelson, I realized that it was my own actions and choices that led many to swear never to don the Helmet of Fate ever again. When I should have waited. Should have been patient."
The helmet turned slightly, as if looking across the park, across time, across all the mistakes that had led to this moment.
Doctor Fate: "There are many good and worthy souls in this world who are willing to sacrifice their lives for a greater cause. To give their lives willingly to Doctor Fate without having to sacrifice who they are or the people they love."
Zatanna was openly crying now, tears streaming down her face, her whole body trembling. Dick held her tighter, his own eyes stinging.
Eight years. Eight years of her father trapped. And now...
Doctor Fate: "So I have entrusted the League. I will await a new host. After which, I shall free Giovanni Zatara from my servitude."
Zatanna (barely able to speak through tears): "R-Really?"
Doctor Fate: "Yes. And to prove it."
The golden hands came up, gripping the edges of the Helmet.
Dick's breath caught. Is he really—
The Helmet lifted.
For the first time in eight years, Giovanni Zatara's face was visible. Older than the both of them remembered, lines around his eyes, gray at his temples, the weight of serving as a Lord of Order's vessel evident in every weathered feature.
But alive. Free. Human.
Giovanni blinked, adjusting to actually seeing with his own eyes instead of through Nabu's cosmic awareness. His gaze found Zatanna immediately, and his face crumbled.
Giovanni (voice hoarse, thick with Italian accent and emotion): "Mia piccola!"
Zatanna made a sound that was half-sob, half-laugh and ran.
They met in the middle of the clearing, crashing together with the force of eight years of separation, of grief, of love that had never diminished despite the distance.
Zatanna (burying her face in his chest, voice muffled): "D-Dad? Is it really you? Not Nabu speaking through you?"
Giovanni (arms wrapped around her, holding tight like she might disappear): "Si, si, mia bambina. It's me. Your papa. Really me."
Dick stayed back, giving them space, his own vision blurring. This was their moment. Their reunion. He was just honoured to witness it.
Zatanna (pulling back to look at him, hands cupping his face like she couldn't believe he was real): "B-But how? I thought—Nabu never lets his hosts—"
Giovanni (voice breaking): "Nabu has agreed to a bargain. While the League searches for a new host, he has allowed me freedom. One weekend every month. No more, no less."
Zatanna: "R-Really?"
Giovanni (smiling through his own tears): "Yes. I am to remain his vessel for the time being. But until they find someone willing… One with the right soul…", he paused, emotion choking him. "One weekend every month, to spend time with my daughter."
Zatanna: "D-Dad."
She pulled him into another hug, this one even tighter, like she was trying to make up for eight years of missed embraces in a single moment.
They held each other, crying, laughing, healing.
Dick wiped at his own eyes, not even trying to hide the tears. This. This was what freedom looked like. What choosing yourself could eventually lead to.
If they hadn't left, hadn't fought, hadn't screamed at Doctor Fate about the injustice of stealing a father from his daughter, would this moment have ever happened?
Some battles are worth fighting. Some lines are worth crossing.
Finally, they pulled apart. Giovanni held Zatanna at arm's length, studying her with a father's love and pride.
Giovanni: "My sweet daughter. Like the spitting image of your mother. You've grown into a beautiful woman. Dio, how I've missed you."
Zatanna (smile radiant despite the tears): "I missed you too, Dad. I missed you so much."
Giovanni's gaze shifted, finding Dick still standing a respectful distance away.
Giovanni (gesturing): "Richard. Come. Please, don't stand apart."
Dick moved forward, and suddenly Giovanni's hand was on his shoulder, grip firm and warm and real.
Giovanni: "Thank you. For being there when I couldn't be. For protecting her. For loving her."
Dick (throat tight): "I'd do anything for her, Mr. Zatara. She's my whole world."
Giovanni: "I know. I have seen it, through the Helmet. The way you look at each other. The way you fight together. The way you chose her over everything else.", his eyes were bright, "That is what a father prays for. That his daughter finds someone who loves her the way she deserves."
They moved to a more comfortable spot on the grass, settling into an impromptu picnic formation. Dick sat slightly behind Zatanna, her back against his chest, his arms around her waist. Giovanni sat facing them, Helmet resting beside him like a golden reminder of what waited.
Giovanni (voice measured, thoughtful): "I have seen, through the Helmet, the things you've done. The choices you've made. The path you've walked."
Dick tensed. Here it comes. The judgment. The disapproval.
Dick: "Mr. Zatara, I'm sorry. I know working with Slade, operating outside the League… I know it's not what you would have wanted—"
Giovanni (holding up a hand): "No. Don't apologize. I understand.".
He paused, and something raw changed in his expression.
Giovanni: "If it was Zatanna that Nabu had stolen away from me? If I had been the one left behind, watching helplessly as my daughter was trapped? I would have done far worse things than you have to get her back. To make myself strong enough to never feel that helpless again."
Zatanna leaned further into Dick, his arms tightening around her.
Giovanni: "They say it is painful for a child to lose their parent. But I can assure both of you… It is far more painful for a parent to lose their child."
His voice cracked, decades of being trapped while his daughter grew up without him bleeding through.
Giovanni: "A parent is fully willing to sacrifice everything for their child. Their child still has many years of life to live. But a child? A child should never have to carry the weight Zatanna has carried. Should never have to watch their father disappear and be powerless to stop it."
Zatanna (reaching for his hand): "Dad—"
Giovanni (squeezing back): "I will admit, your actions have made me feel... conflicted. Part of me, the part that is still League, still hero, wishes you had stayed. Had found another way. But the part that is father? The part that loves you more than any cosmic responsibility?", he smiled, "That part understands completely."
Zatanna (tears starting again): "You're not... mad at us? For leaving?"
Giovanni: "Conflicted, yes. But angry? Mad? How could I be? You chose yourself. Your happiness. Your freedom. That is what I have wanted for you since you were born. To be able to choose your own path, even if it's not the path others expect."
He paused, looking between them.
Giovanni: "And if the roles were reversed? If I had been the one watching you disappear into that Helmet? I may have done far worse. Burned down the League. Destroyed the Helmet itself. Anything to get you back."
Dick felt something loosen in his chest. Acceptance. Understanding. From someone whose opinion actually mattered.
Giovanni (turning to Zatanna): "Constantine is a good man, for what he is. Damaged. Broken in many ways. But his heart is in the right place. If there's anyone I have confidence in to teach my daughter the dark arts without letting her lose herself to its tempting power, it is him."
Zatanna (voice thick): "Thank you, Dad. That… that means a lot…"
Giovanni turned his full attention to Dick now, and Dick felt the weight of a father's assessment, of being measured against standards he didn't fully understand.
Giovanni: "And Richard? Thank you."
Dick (confused): "What for, Mr. Zatara?"
Giovanni: "For being there for my precious piccola. For not giving her up. For not letting her go. For always staying by her side even when the world feels too heavy a burden to carry."
Dick (meeting his eyes): "I love her, Mr. Zatara. I really do. She's the one for me. The only one."
Giovanni (closing his eyes, something like peace settling over his features): "Then I can be at peace. Whenever I don the Helmet of Fate, whenever I return to being Nabu's vessel, I can do it with peace knowing that my daughter has chosen a good man to take care of and love her."
He looked at both of them, something wistful in his expression.
Giovanni: "You two remind me of both myself and Sindella when we were your age. The way you look at each other is the exact same way we looked at each other. With love, caring, and passione.", his smile turned bittersweet, "She looked at me like I was the only man in the world. And I looked at her like she was the only star in the sky."
Dick felt Zatanna's breath hitch. She rarely talked about her mother, the pain still too fresh even years after Sindella's death.
Giovanni (reaching forward, gripping Dick's shoulder): "Promise me this, Richard. Promise me you'll take care of my daughter. Not because she needs protecting—Dio, she's become powerful enough to destroy armies—but because everyone needs someone to take care of them. To hold them when they're weak. To celebrate them when they're strong. To love them through everything."
Dick (voice firm, certain): "I will, Mr. Zatara. I promise. For as long as she'll have me, for as long as I'm breathing, I'll take care of her. I'll love her. I'll be here."
Giovanni (smiling): "Then I am content. That is all a father can ask."
A comfortable silence settled over them. Central Park stretched around them, hidden from the world by Zatanna's magic, creating a pocket of peace in the chaos of their lives.
Zatanna (finally, voice small): "How long until you have to put on the Helmet again, Dad?"
Giovanni (checking his watch): "Two nights from now. Forty-eight hours of freedom. After which, I return as Nabu's vessel. But from this point on? Once a month, he has granted me this. One weekend. Fifty-two weekends a year to be your father instead of a Lord of Order's puppet."
Zatanna launched herself at him again, hugging him with desperate intensity.
Zatanna: "Then let's make each monthly weekend count. We have a lot of lost time to make up for."
She turned to Dick, something vulnerable in her expression.
Zatanna: "Dick. I... is it okay if I—"
Dick (already knowing what she was asking): "Zee, why are you asking me? Go. He's your dad. You don't need my permission to spend time with him."
Giovanni (nodding approvingly): "Thank you, Richard. You have no idea how much it means to us."
Dick (standing, offering his hand to help them both up): "Please, call me Dick. I already have her for the rest of the month. It'd be selfish of me to stop her from spending time with her father after so long."
Giovanni (also standing, pulling Dick into an unexpected hug): "If that is the case, then I must insist. Call me Giovanni."
Dick (caught off guard): "Mr. Zatara, I can't—"
Giovanni (pulling back, gaze firm but kind): "If you insist, then I insist as well, mio figlio.", he paused, the Italian rolling off his tongue with weight, "You can call me Giovanni, Dick."
Dick (struggling with the intimacy of it): "I—uh... Okay, Giovanni. God, this will take some time getting used to."
All three of them laughed, the sound genuine, warm, and healing.
Giovanni (turning to his daughter, voice light with teasing): "He has a good heart, mia piccola. You chose well."
Zatanna (smiling so wide it had to hurt): "Thanks, Dad. He really does."
Giovanni (shaking his head with mock horror): "It could have been worse. Better him than Constantine. Dio mio! Can you imagine? My daughter with that cigarette-smoking, alcohol-drinking, demon-summoning—"
Dick choked, coughing as Zatanna burst into laughter.
Zatanna: "Dad! John's not that bad!"
Giovanni: "He showed up to your twelfth birthday party drunk and tried to teach you a banishment spell that would have summoned a minor demon if you'd gotten one word wrong!"
Zatanna (still laughing, recalling the memory): "Okay, fair point."
Dick (recovering): "For the record, Constantine tried to recruit Zatanna into demon hunting when she was sixteen I think? I stopped him."
Giovanni (clapping Dick on the shoulder): "See? This is why you're better. You have sense. You protect her from bad influences instead of being the bad influence."
Dick: "To be fair, I work with Deathstroke so the bar is just as low. I might also be a bad influence."
Giovanni (waving dismissively): "At least Slade doesn't show up to family gatherings intoxicated. I met him once, a very long time ago. Professional. Efficient. Deadly, yes, but professional."
Zatanna (giving her father a curious look): "You met Slade?"
Giovanni (staring off, trying to recall that distant memory): "It was… in Roma. I remember, you were still a small child then, no-older than four I think? He was surprisingly polite when not actively trying to kill people."
Dick (filing that away): "I'll have to ask him about that."
The conversation drifted, comfortable and warm, three people who'd been separated by circumstances finally reunited, making up for lost time with every word, every laugh, every shared memory.
As the night deepened, Giovanni glanced at the Helmet, and something in his expression shifted. Responsibility. Duty. The weight of cosmic balance that he'd carry until the League found a replacement.
Giovanni: "I should return you both to your lives. You have work tomorrow, yes?"
Dick (checking his phone): "Meeting with Wintergreen in the morning for an intelligence briefing."
Zatanna: "And I've got that thing with Constantine in Brooklyn. Suspected poltergeist activity."
Giovanni: “I see, then in that case…”
Dick (pulling out his phone): “But I can make some calls.”
Zatanna (looking at him curiously): “What?”
Dick (smiling as he faced her): “Zee, you just got your dad back. I’ll phone Wintergreen and Constantine. I’m sure them and Slade can survive without us for a weekend.”
A pause.
Giovanni: “Richard, you don’t have too…”
Dick (turning to Giovanni, nodding): “I insist, Mr. Zatara. And if they have a problem with it, they can deal with me.”
Without warning, Zatanna lunged for him, embracing him in her arms.
Zatanna (burying her head on his shoulder, her words muffled): “Thank you, Dick. Thank you. You don’t know how much–”
Dick (pulling her off gently, smiling): “You don’t have to thank me, Zee. That’s what I’m here for.”
He took her hand, kissing her knuckles.
Dick: “Spend time with you dad. You only have one weekend a month, make it count.”
Zatanna (with tears in her eyes, smiling as bright as the moon): “Thank you.”, she paused, steadying her breath, “I love you. So very much.”
Dick (laughing): “I love you too, but maybe try not to be too vocal about it?”, he turned to Giovanni, “I wouldn’t want your dad to kill me so soon.”
Giovanni (chuckling): “By all means. Besides, I won’t actively plan for your demise, not unless you hurt her so…”
Dick: “Respectfully, in your dreams, Mr. Zatara.”
Giovanni (nodding): “Then perhaps, we pick this up tomorrow?”, he looked at Zatanna, “I want to hear everything. Eight years of stories I've missed."
Zatanna (tears threatening again): "I'd love that. God, I'd love that so much."
Giovanni: "Good. I'll cook. Your favorite, pasta alla carbonara, just like Nonna used to make."
Zatanna (sobbing now): "You remember…"
Giovanni (pulling her close one last time): "I remember everything. Every birthday I missed. Every holiday. Every moment I should have been there and wasn't. I can't get those back. But I can make the most of what we have now."
They held each other, father and daughter, eight years of separation bridged by love that had never diminished.
Finally, they pulled apart.
Giovanni (to Dick): "Take care of her."
Dick: "Always."
Giovanni (slight smile): "And Dick? Welcome to the family."
Dick felt something warm bloom in his chest. Acceptance. Belonging. Another family.
Not the Family he'd left behind at the Manor, but something similar to what he maybe had with Slade and Wintergreen? Something new. Something chosen.
Giovanni (standing up, with a smile on his face): "I’ll see you tomorrow."
Dick: “I’ll be there to drop her off.”
Another goodbye for now, but unlike the last time? Zatanna had something to look forward to.
When Giovanni had left, the couple stood in the clearing. Zatanna had tears streaming, but she was smiling.
Dick moved to her, pulling her into his arms.
Dick (quietly): "You okay?"
Zatanna (burying her face in his chest): "I got him back. For one weekend a month, I got my dad back."
Dick: "Yeah. You did."
Zatanna (turning to him, her eyes as bright as ever): "Thank you."
Dick (confused): "For what?"
Zatanna: "For everything. For supporting me. For being here. For not thinking I'm crazy for crying over something that's only temporary."
Dick (cupping her face): "It's not temporary. It's fifty-two weekends a year for the rest of his life, or at least, until Nabu finally gets the host he wants. That's not nothing. That's everything."
Zatanna (voice breaking): "I love you. God, I love you so much."
Dick (smiling): "I love you too. Always."
They kissed, soft and sweet, celebrating the gift they'd been given.
When they pulled apart, Zatanna's barrier spell began to dissolve, Central Park slowly coming back into focus around them.
Zatanna (taking his hand): "Take me home."
Dick (already moving): "Just what I had in mind."
They walked through Central Park hand in hand, two people who'd fought for their freedom and won, who'd stood against cosmic forces and emerged with their souls intact.
And now, they had something new.
Not just each other. Not just their partnership.
But family. Real, chosen family who understood. Who accepted. Who loved without conditions.
Zatanna had her father back.
Dick had Giovanni's blessing.
And tomorrow, they'd wake up with a new day, where Zatanna could finally pick up where she and her dad had left off all those years ago.
And for her and Dick? They’ll continue building on the life they'd chosen.
Together.
Always together.
No matter what came next.
[Two Days Later - Giovanni's Apartment - Sunday Evening]
The apartment smelled like heaven. Pasta alla carbonara, just like Giovanni had promised, with homemade bread and his grandmother's secret recipe.
Dick sat at the dining table, he insisted on leaving the father and daughter to their alone time but Giovanni wanted him to be there for dinner.
He watched as Zatanna and Giovanni moved around the small kitchen in perfect synchronization. Their first weekend was more than what Zatanna could’ve dreamed of in years. Slowly but surely making up for lost time.
Giovanni (plating the pasta): "...And then Constantine tried to convince me that summoning a minor demon was 'perfectly safe' if you had the right protective wards."
Zatanna (laughing): "What did you do?"
Giovanni: "I turned his shoelaces into snakes. That idiota, he deserved it."
Dick (laughing): "Sounds like Constantine alright."
Giovanni (setting plates down): "He still won't meet my eyes directly after that", he sat, gesturing for them to eat, "Now, tell me about this Damascus operation you went to last week."
Dick and Zatanna exchanged glances, how did he?
Zatanna: "How did you—"
Giovanni (smiling mysteriously): "Nabu sees many things. And when he's not paying attention, I sometimes see them too. Your operations, your successes, your partnership with Wilson and Constantine. I see it all."
Dick (nervous): "And you're not... concerned?"
Giovanni (serving himself): "Concerned? Si. But not for the reasons you think. I'm concerned you're working too hard. Not sleeping enough. Burning yourselves out.", he paused, "But compromised? Corrupted? No. You're doing good work. Real work that saves lives. How can a father disapprove of that?"
Zatanna (reaching for his hand): "You have no idea how much that means. To have your support."
Giovanni (squeezing back): "You're my daughter. I will always support you, even when your choices terrify me. That's what love is."
They ate in comfortable silence for a moment, the kind that only came from people completely at ease with each other.
Giovanni (finally): "So. Dick. When are you going to ask?"
Dick: "Ask what?"
Giovanni (eyes twinkling): "Marriage, yes? For my blessing to marry my daughter."
Silence.
Complete, shocked silence.
Zatanna had gone completely still, fork halfway to her mouth.
Dick felt his face heat up, his brain short-circuiting.
Dick (nearly choking on his pasta): "I… We haven't—that's not—"
Giovanni (laughing): "Relax, figlio. I'm not pressuring you. But I see how you look at her. How she looks at you. It's only a matter of time.", he took a sip of wine, "And when that time comes, you already have my blessing. Just so you know."
Zatanna (finding her voice): "Dad."
Giovanni (innocent): "What? I'm just being efficient. It saves time! Now you don't have to have an awkward conversation later."
Dick: "I… Thank you? I think?"
Giovanni (grin widening): "You're welcome. Now eat. It's bad to keep good food waiting."
They ate, but the atmosphere had shifted. Something hopeful. Something future-oriented.
Because for the first time in eight years, Zatanna had a future that included her father.
And Dick had family that accepted him completely.
This was what they'd fought for.
This was what freedom meant.
Not just the absence of chains, but the presence of choice. Of love. Of people who supported you no matter what path you walked.
As dinner wound down and the conversation drifted to lighter topics, Dick watched Zatanna and Giovanni laugh together and felt profound gratitude.
They'd lost so much. Sacrificed so much.
But they'd gained something precious.
Freedom.
Love.
Family.
And honestly?
That made every hard choice, every burned bridge, every moment of exile completely worth it.
[Current Status - Two Years and Three Months Into Exile]
Personal Developments:
- Giovanni Zatara: Freed one weekend per month
- Dick & Zatanna: Blessed by her father
- Family connections: Maintained on chosen terms
- Support network: Expanded and strengthened
- Relationship status: Unbreakable
Mission Stats:
- Total operations: 132 (including Kuala Lumpur)
- Total lives saved: 3,988 (including the rescued victims from Kuala Lumpur)
- Casualties: 0
- Success rate: 100%
Conclusion: Sometimes the battles you fight change the world in ways you never expected. Sometimes standing your ground creates space for miracles.
Giovanni Zatara got his freedom, even temporarily as the League searches for a fitting candidate to be Nabu’s new host.
Zatanna got her father back.
Dick got a family that accepts him unconditionally.
And sometimes?
That's the greatest victory of all.
Chapter 27: "Foundations"
Summary:
A little over three months after Nabu granted Giovanni his temporary freedom as the League searches for a new host to be the next Doctor Fate, Dick stood at the doorway of the Manor.
Bruce was well again (Zatanna was with her dad) and Dick had to see him...
Chapter Text
[Four Months After Kuala Lumpur]
[Wayne Manor - Bruce's Study - 3:47 PM - Saturday Afternoon]
Dick stood outside the study door, hand raised to knock, and hesitated.
Four months since Kuala Lumpur. Four months since the building collapse, him needing to exfiltrated to the Watchtower, and the start of the tentative reconnection with the Team and Family. Four months of carefully maintained boundaries, regular check-ins, and learning to trust people they'd left behind.
And now, Bruce had recovered. Dr. Thompkins had cleared him for active duty starting next week. Batman would return to Gotham's streets, and Dick wanted—needed—to see his mentor, his father, before that happened.
The door opened before Dick could knock.
Selina Kyle stood there, elegant even in casual clothes, a knowing smile on her face.
Selina: "You know, most people actually knock instead of standing in the hallway like a statue."
Dick (caught off guard): "I was just… I didn't want to interrupt—"
Selina (stepping aside): "You're never an interruption, Dick. Bruce has been watching the clock for the last hour. Come in."
Dick entered the study, familiar wood paneling, floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, the massive desk that had intimidated him as a child. But the room felt different now. Lighter, maybe? Less like a fortress and more like an actual office.
Bruce stood by the window, actually standing instead of confined to a wheelchair or bed. His posture was careful, still healing but functional. He turned when Dick entered, and something crossed his face, relief? Joy? Maybe even pride?
Bruce: "Dick."
Dick (throat tight): "Bruce. You're... you're standing."
Bruce (slight smile): "Dr. Thompkins is excellent at her work. Though she's threatened me with 'creative consequences' if I push myself too hard before full clearance."
Selina (moving to sit on the couch): "She used the phrase 'medically-induced coma' in a tone that suggested she wasn't joking."
Dick (laughing despite himself): "That sounds like her."
Awkward silence stretched. Dick and Bruce had talked since the Manor visit four months ago. Brief phone calls, text messages, the kind of minimal contact that maintained connection without demanding intimacy.
But this felt different. More real. More important.
Bruce (gesturing to the sitting area): "Please. Sit. I'm told I shouldn't stand for extended periods yet."
They settled into chairs, Bruce moving carefully but without obvious pain. Selina positioned herself on the couch between them, a subtle mediator presence.
Dick (starting with the obvious): "How's the recovery been? Really?"
Bruce (considering his answer): "Painful. Frustrating. Humbling.", he paused, "Spinal injuries don't heal like other trauma. Even with enhanced medical intervention, the vertebrae damage was extensive. I've spent four months relearning how to walk properly, how to balance, how to move without triggering nerve pain."
Dick (leaning forward): "But you're cleared for patrol?"
Bruce: "Starting next week. Dr. Thompkins insists on a gradual return. Limited hours, no heavy combat for the first month, and constant monitoring.", his jaw tightened, "I hate it. But I understand the necessity."
Selina (dry): "He hates it because he's stubborn and thinks he's invincible. I keep reminding him that even with his ‘ancient Tibetan monk training’, Bane still literally broke his back, but somehow that doesn't register."
Bruce (to Selina): "I'm sitting right here."
Selina: "I know. That's why I'm saying it to your face instead of behind your back."
[Meanwhile - At the Watchtower]
Clark slammed his fists hard on the cafeteria table, one eye twitching with a vein visibly pulsating on his forehead.
Icon (trying to pat Clark on the shoulder): “Clark? Are you okay?”
Clark just grumbled.
Captain Marvel/Billy: “Clark?”
Clark (yelling while raising his fists): “IT’S ALWAYS HIS FUCKING ‘ANCIENT TIBETAN MONK TRAINING!!!’”
Barry (sipping on a juicebox): “We should really talk to Bruce about this once he’s back in action.”
Oliver, J’onn, Captain Atom, and John Stewart (in unison): “Agreed.”
[Back at the Manor]
Dick watched them, the easy banter, the obvious affection, the way Selina could say things to Bruce that no one else could. It was... good. Healthy.
Bruce (turning back to Dick): "And you? Tim reported about what happened in Kuala Lumpur. How have you been healing?"
Dick (flexing his shoulder unconsciously): "The serum did most of the work. League medical intervention handled the rest. I was back to full capacity within days."
Bruce (studying him): "That's... remarkable. And concerning. The accelerated healing, the enhanced reflexes I've observed, the increased physical capabilities. Slade's serum is more effective than I'd calculated."
Dick: "It's saved my life more times than I can count. Whatever concerns you have, it's worth it."
A pause. Bruce processing that, probably running calculations about long-term effects, potential complications, the ethical implications of chemical enhancement.
But he didn't push. Didn't demand Dick stop using it or submit to League testing.
Growth. Actual growth.
Dick (changing subject): "How did the Family hold up? While Zatanna and I were in exile?"
Bruce's expression shifted—something complicated crossing his features.
Bruce: "It was... difficult. Tim threw himself into detective work, trying to track you. Jason maintained his boundaries, protecting your privacy even from me. Damian struggled with feelings of abandonment he couldn't articulate. The others? Stephanie, Cassandra, and Duke? They were confused but understanding. As for Kate? Well, she just told me to ‘mind my own damn business’ and let you two be."
He stood slowly, moving to pour himself water from the side table.
Bruce (continuing): "Alfred was disappointed. Not in you, but in me. For failing to create an environment where you felt you could stay. Selina was more direct.", he glanced at her, "She called me an 'emotionally constipated dumbass’ on multiple occasions."
Selina (not apologetic): "You still are sometimes, but you're improving."
Dick (slight smile): "And now? How are they?"
Bruce (returning to his seat): "Better. The olive branch you and Zatanna offered after Kuala Lumpur helped. Regular check-ins have given them—us—something to hold onto. Tim's conspiracy board is still up, but it's less frantic now. Jason seems more at peace. Damian is... processing."
Dick: "That's good. I worried about them. About all of you."
Bruce (meeting his eyes): "We worried about you too. Every operation, every report of Renegade and Sorceress saving lives, we celebrated your successes while mourning your absence."
Silence fell, heavy with everything unsaid over two years of separation.
Dick (finally): "And how has Batman been holding up?"
Bruce (considering): "Batman is... challenging without full physical capacity. I've been more strategic, relying on the Family for physical operations while I coordinate and plan. It's been an adjustment."
Selina (adding): "He's been forced to delegate. To trust his team and the Family. To accept that he can't do everything himself.", she smiled, "Character development."
Bruce (dry): "Thank you for that assessment."
Dick: "And the League?"
Bruce: "Functional. Clark and Diana have carried much of the operational load during my recovery. We've restructured some protocols, improved communication, reduced bureaucratic overhead.", he paused, "You were right to criticize us about our slowness, our tendency to debate rather than act. It wasn't wrong and we've tried to address that."
Dick (surprised): "Really?"
Bruce: "Yes. The League operates more efficiently now. We've established rapid response protocols for trafficking situations, streamlined authorization for time-sensitive operations, created task forces that can act independently without full League approval."
Dick: "That's... that's good. That's what we were trying to accomplish by leaving."
Bruce (nodding): "I know. Your actions, your exile, forced us to examine our failures. To improve. Sometimes the most effective criticism comes from those who walk away."
Dick felt something shift in his chest. Acknowledgment. That their choice had mattered. Had created change.
Dick (throat working): "Thank you. For saying that."
Bruce (leaning forward): "No, I should thank you. For refusing to accept our limitations. For showing us there's another way.", he paused, "Even if I don't fully approve of you working with Deathstroke, Bishop, Constantine, and your methods, I can't deny their effectiveness."
Selina (to Dick): "That's Bruce-speak for 'I'm proud of you but can't quite say it directly.'"
Bruce (to Selina): "Selina."
Selina (innocent): "What? Someone needs to translate your emotional constipation."
Dick (laughing): "It's okay. I'm fluent in Bruce-speak. I was the first translator of the language when we first brought Jason and Tim in."
Bruce (something like amusement): "Apparently I'm surrounded by comedians."
Dick (smile fading, becoming serious): "Are you happy, Bruce? With Selina?"
Bruce's expression softened in a way Dick had rarely seen. He glanced at Selina, and something passed between them; love, understanding, partnership. Dick made a mental note that maybe Bruce leans on Selina more than he’d verbally admit.
Bruce: "Yes. More than I thought possible. Selina has...", he struggled for words, "She's made me examine my life, my priorities, my tendency to sacrifice everything for the mission. She's helped me understand that being Batman doesn't mean giving up Bruce Wayne entirely."
Selina (moving to stand behind his chair, hands on his shoulders): "He's still a work in progress. Always spending eighteen-hour shifts in front of the Bat Computer since he can't go out on patrol, his usual habit of skipping meals, but he's trying, and that's what matters."
Dick (genuine): "I'm glad. You deserve happiness too, Bruce. You've spent so long carrying Gotham and the world’s weight… You deserve someone who can help ease that burden."
Bruce (voice rough): "Thank you, son. That means... everything."
The word son hung in the air, powerful in its simplicity.
Dick (clearing his throat, trying to change subject): "Right. Clark and Diana mentioned something about 'consultant' status?"
Bruce (nodding): "Yes. The League recognizes your expertise, your effectiveness, your unique operational methods. Rather than pressure you to rejoin formally, they proposed a consultant arrangement. You maintain your independence, operate on your terms, but have access to League resources and intelligence when needed."
Dick (considering): "And in exchange?"
Bruce: "Occasional consultation on operations where your tactical insight would be valuable. Intelligence sharing when your work overlaps with League operations. No obligation to participate in missions, no oversight of your independent work, no pressure to conform to League protocols. We’ve also maintained your access to the Zeta Tubes."
Dick: “Even when we updated our designations?”
Bruce paused for a while before he answered.
Bruce: “Yes. B-0-1 remains designated to Renegade. 2-5 remains designated to Sorceress.”
Dick took a moment to let it sink in. He thought that during their exile, Bruce or the League may have done something to either overwrite or overrule their updated Zeta Tube designations. Apparently not.
Dick: "Zatanna and I have been discussing it. The access to League intelligence would be valuable. And honestly? After Kuala Lumpur, working with the Team instead of around them was... good."
Bruce: "Then you're considering it?"
Dick: "On our terms. With our boundaries. With absolute clarity that we're consultants, not members. That we maintain our independence."
Bruce: "I believe that's acceptable to the League. Clark and Diana have been advocating for exactly that arrangement."
Dick (slight smile): "They've been good to us. After everything."
Bruce: "They care about you. Both of you. As do I.", he paused, gathering courage for vulnerability, "Dick, I need to say something. Something I should have said two years ago."
Dick (attention sharpening): "Bruce—"
Bruce (holding up a hand): "Please. Let me finish. I was wrong. About how I handled your growth, your independence, your need to be your own person. I treated you as an extension of my mission rather than as a son finding his own path. I failed to provide emotional support when you needed it most. I let my fear of losing you manifest as distance and control."
His voice cracked slightly.
Bruce: “And I’m sorry about my hypocrisy. You were right, I trained with Ra’s and the Assassins after my time with the Tibetan monks.”
In the Watchtower, Clark was screaming again as the other Leaguers tried to calm him down.
Diana even had to wrangle him with the Lasso of Truth to stop him from flying down to the Manor.
Bruce: “But I used the training I learned from Ra’s and the Assassins to do good, or at least, I tried to. I was in no position to judge how you accepted Slade’s offer to train you. I guess I just… I didn’t want you to end up losing your way… Being tempted by such offers…”
Bruce closed his eyes and took a deep breath.
Bruce: "I failed you. As a mentor. As a father. And I'm sorry. Truly, deeply sorry."
Dick felt tears prick his eyes. Two years of carrying that hurt, that anger, that sense of not being enough. And here was Bruce, actually apologizing. Admitting fault. Showing vulnerability.
Dick (voice thick): "I'm sorry too. For leaving the way I did. For keeping my contact with Slade secret. For not trying harder to communicate before it got to that point. For—", he stopped, composing himself, "I don't regret leaving. Don't regret the path I chose. But I regret the pain it caused you. Caused the Family."
Bruce (standing slowly, moving toward Dick): "You shouldn't apologize for choosing yourself. For finding your path. I should have listened and tried to understand instead, and maybe even helped you keep your way when Slade came knocking. That's what I should have encouraged rather than suppressed."
He held out his hand. Not for a shake, but for connection. Dick took it, and suddenly they were embracing, careful of Bruce's healing spine, but still with that emotion nonetheless.
Bruce (voice muffled against Dick's shoulder): "I love you, son. I should have said it more. Should have shown it better. But I love you. Always have. Always will."
Dick (also crying now): "I love you too, Bruce. Even when I'm angry. Even when I don't understand you. I love you."
They held each other, two people who'd hurt each other trying to find their way back to something. Not what they'd had, that was impossible, but maybe something new. Something better.
When they finally pulled apart, both were crying unashamedly. Selina had tears streaming down her face too, but she was smiling.
Selina (voice thick): "Well. That was overdue."
Dick (laughing through tears): "Yeah. Just a little."
Bruce (sitting back down, composing himself): "Alfred will be insufferable when he learns we had this conversation without him present."
Dick (also sitting): "He's been pushing for it?"
Bruce: "Relentlessly. He's threatened to 'organize another family intervention' on multiple occasions."
Selina: "He hasn't stopped glaring at Bruce since you left. It's been quite entertaining."
Dick (grinning): "I should thank him for that."
Bruce (dry): "Please don't. His superiority complex is already unmanageable."
They talked for another hour, the conversation lighter now, easier. Dick shared stories about operations (carefully edited but honest), about working with Slade and Constantine, about the freedom of operating independently.
Bruce shared League developments, Family updates, the gradual process of learning to be Bruce Wayne in addition to being Batman.
Finally, as evening approached, Bruce spoke again.
Bruce: "How are you and Zatanna doing? Really?"
Dick's entire expression transformed into something soft, becoming radiant with love so obvious it was almost tangible.
Dick: "She's everything, Bruce. The reason I can do this. The reason I'm still sane. The reason I wake up every morning ready to face whatever comes next."
Bruce (studying him): "You love her."
Dick: "More than I knew was possible. She's my partner in every sense of the word. In our operations, in life, in everything. We understand each other in ways I can't even articulate. When I'm with her, I feel... complete."
Bruce (something wistful): "That’s very good. She’s good for you, don't take it for granted."
Dick: "I don't. Every day, I'm grateful she chose me. That she stayed when I was broken. That she built this life with me."
Selina (smiling): "Sounds serious."
Dick (meeting her eyes): "It is. She's it for me. The only woman I want to spend the rest of my life with."
Bruce (slight smile): "Then I hope you make that official eventually. Zatanna deserves that certainty."
Dick (throat working): "Yeah. She does."
A knock at the door interrupted.
Alfred (entering with impeccable timing): "Forgive the intrusion, but dinner will be served in thirty minutes. Master Dick, I've taken the liberty of preparing your favorite—"
He stopped, seeing Dick, seeing the tear tracks on both Bruce's and Dick's faces, the obvious emotional resolution that had occurred.
Dick (standing): "Hey, Alfred."
Alfred (composing himself): "Well. This is most gratifying. Though I'm somewhat put out that you had this reconciliation without my supervision."
Bruce (dry): "We knew you'd say that."
Alfred (to Bruce): "As you should have. I've been orchestrating emotional revelations in this family for decades. I have expertise."
Selina (laughing): "He's not wrong."
Alfred (turning back to Dick): "Master Dick, Miss Zatanna is with her father this weekend, correct?"
Dick: "Yes. Their monthly weekend."
Alfred: "Then you'll stay for dinner. I insist. I've prepared enough for four, and we have much catching up to do."
Dick (looking at Bruce, who nodded): "I'd love that, Alfred. Thank you."
Alfred (satisfied): "Excellent. Dinner at six sharp. Don't be late.", he paused at the door, "And Master Dick? Welcome home. Even if only for an evening."
Dick (throat tight): "Thanks, Alfred. It's good to be back."
[Meanwhile - Giovanni Zatara's Apartment - Little Italy, Manhattan - Same Time]
The apartment smelled like heaven.
Pasta alla carbonara, fresh bread, and the espresso machine humming in the background.
Zatanna stood in the kitchen of her childhood home, the place where she'd grown up after her family had moved from Italy when she was seven, watching her father work with the practiced ease of someone who'd been cooking for decades.
Giovanni (stirring the pasta): "...And then Constantine tried to convince me that binding a greater demon was perfectly safe if you had the right protective circle."
Zatanna (laughing, chopping vegetables): "What did you do?"
Giovanni: "I hexed his cigarettes to taste like anchovies for a week. That idiota deserved it."
Zatanna (grinning): "He probably did."
Giovanni (plating the pasta with flourish): "He still won't smoke around me. Good. Paranoia is an excellent teaching tool."
They moved around the kitchen in perfect synchronization, years of cooking together before Nabu's helmet making the dance familiar despite the decade-long separation.
Finally, they sat at the small dining table, the same table where Zatanna had done homework as a child, where Giovanni had taught her first spells, where her mother had laughed and shared stories of the old country.
Giovanni (raising his wine glass, a smile on his face): "I’m always looking forward to these weekends, mia piccola."
Zatanna (smiling just the same, clinking their glasses): "Me too, papa. Me too."
They ate in comfortable silence for a moment, the kind that only came from people completely at ease with each other.
Giovanni (finally): "Right. I understand you two had an incident? Something that happened in Kuala Lumpur?"
Zatanna (surprised): "How did you—"
Giovanni (tapping his temple): "Nabu sees many things. When he's occupied with cosmic balance, I sometimes glimpse your operations. You and Richard took down another Kobra trafficking ring after the Team and Bruce’s children ran into you."
Zatanna stopped, holding her fork mid bite.
Giovanni (grinning): “That, and I also read the League reports.”
Zatanna: “Dad!”
Giovanni: “What? It’s true! I do check up on you and Richard from time to time. But in all honesty, how is he?”
Zatanna (taking a sip of the wine): "He jumped into a collapsing steel beam to save my life as I was casting a spell to get the Team and the victims out. I did, but he was hurt real bad. Thank God for his healing factor, otherwise…"
A loose tear fell on Zatanna’s cheek as she recalled the memory, holding on to him for dear life as the Bioship made that trip to the Watchtower felt like it was the longest ride of her life.
Giovanni (patting her shoulder): "There there, mia piccola. Richard is safe, he’s alright now. He saved you, and I’m sure you saved him that night too."
Zatanna (wiping the tears away): "I did. I made sure that he’d remain stable with my magic until the League doctors could have a look at him."
Giovanni's expression shifted to something more calming.
Giovanni: "And?"
Zatanna (softening): "He's good, Dad. Really good. In all honesty, the exile has been... healing for us. Away from Bruce's expectations, from the Team's demands, from the League’s burdens. We were able to find ourselves. Became more confident, more capable, more complete."
Giovanni: "And what about you, mia bambina?"
Zatanna (setting down her fork): "Happier than I've been in years. Working with Slade and Wintergreen is great, but working with Constantine has made me more powerful than I ever thought possible. The dark magic doesn't scare me anymore. I've learned to control it, to use it for good."
Giovanni (studying her): "And Richard’s thoughts with your growth?"
Zatanna (smile radiant): "He's proud of me, Dad. Never tries to limit me or make me feel like I'm too much. He celebrates my power instead of fearing it."
Giovanni (voice soft): "That's love, mia figlia. True love. When someone sees your strength and isn't threatened by it."
Zatanna (throat tight): "I know. And I'm so grateful for him. For what we've built together."
They continued eating as their conversation drifted to lighter topics, Constantine's latest disaster in New Delhi that had apparently descended into drunken chaos, the new protective wards Zatanna had developed.
Finally, as dessert was served—tiramisu, Giovanni's specialty—he spoke again.
Giovanni: "So. When is Richard going to make it official?"
Zatanna (nearly choking on her espresso): "What?"
Giovanni (innocent): "Marriage, piccola. When is he going to ask you to marry him?"
Zatanna felt her face heat up, coffee forgotten, brain short-circuiting.
Zatanna: "Dad, we haven't… That's not.. We're not—"
Giovanni (laughing): "You're stammering. You only stammer when I'm right about something."
Zatanna (composing herself): "We're focused on our work. On building our life. Marriage is... We haven't discussed it yet."
Giovanni (leveling her with a look): "Zatanna Zatara. You are my daughter. I know when you're lying."
Zatanna (sighing): "Okay, fine. We've... talked about it. Generally. In the abstract. But nothing concrete."
Giovanni: "And do you want to marry him?"
Zatanna (without hesitation): "Yes! God, yes. He's it for me, Dad. The only man I want to spend forever with."
Giovanni (satisfied): "Good. Then when he asks—and he will—you have my blessing. I already gave it to him months ago but I don’t see anything wrong in reminding you."
Zatanna (tears forming): "You really like him, don't you?"
Giovanni (voice thick): "Not only because he makes you happy, though that would be enough. But because he's also a good man. A strong man. Someone who stands beside you rather than in front of you or behind you. Someone who sees your power and celebrates it."
He reached across the table, taking her hand.
Giovanni: "Your mother would have loved him too. She always said you needed someone who could match your fire without trying to extinguish it. Richard is that person."
Zatanna (crying now): "I wish she could have met him."
Giovanni: "She knows, piccola. Wherever she is, she knows. And she's happy for you."
They held hands across the table, two people connected by blood and love and loss and hope.
Giovanni (finally): "How much longer do we have?"
Zatanna (checking her watch): "Four hours. Then you have to put the Helmet back on."
Giovanni (nodding): "Then let's make them count. You said you went with Constantine to Mexico the other day? Something about a poltergeist…?"
They talked late into the evening, making up for lost time as they routinely did once weekend every month, storing memories for until the next time as Giovanni would be Doctor Fate again and Zatanna would be left to wait.
But she’s not alone. Never alone. Because she had Dick. Had their partnership. Had their shared life.
And every weekend once a month, she had this. Her father, free, present, and hers.
As midnight approached, Giovanni stood slowly.
Giovanni: "It is time."
Zatanna (also standing): "I know, dad."
They moved to the living room where the Helmet of Fate rested on its pedestal, golden and terrible and necessary.
Giovanni (turning to face her): "Be safe this month, mia piccola. Take care of yourself. Take care of Richard. And when the time comes, when he asks that important question—"
Zatanna (smiling through tears): "I'll say yes. Every time. I’ll always say yes."
Giovanni (pulling her into one last hug): "Good. That's all a father needs to know. I will try to negotiate with Nabu for an extended leave so that I can walk you down the aisle."
Zatanna: “D-Dad.”
Giovanni (smiling): “Are you kidding me? What kind of father wouldn’t want to walk his beautiful figlia down the aisle on her wedding day?”
They held each other, daughter and father, making up for a decade of separation in a single embrace.
Finally, Giovanni pulled back, moved to the Helmet, and lifted it.
Giovanni (looking at her one last time): "Ti amo, bambina. Until next month."
Zatanna (voice breaking): "Ti amo, papa. Until next month."
He placed the Helmet on his head.
Golden light flared.
When it faded, Doctor Fate stood where Giovanni had been. Imposing, powerful, alien.
Doctor Fate (voice resonating with dual tones): "Until next month, Daughter of Zatara."
Then he was gone, vanishing in golden light, back to his duties as the Lord of Order.
Zatanna stood in her father's empty apartment, tears streaming, but smiling.
Because in four weeks, she'd have this again. Another weekend. Another chance.
And in the meantime, she had Dick. Had their life. Had their love.
It was enough. More than enough.
She pulled out her phone, typing a message.
(Zatanna): "Heading back home. How was the Manor?"
The response came almost immediately.
(Dick): "Good. Really good. Bruce and I talked. Really talked. Let’s compare notes over takeout."
(Zatanna): "Can't wait. Love you! Drive safe! ❤️"
(Dick): "Love you too babe. See you later ;D)"
Zatanna smiled, pocketing her phone, and began cleaning up from dinner.
Afterwards, she'd head back to their apartment. Back to Dick. Back to home.
And they'd compare notes, share stories, plan their next operations, and continue building the life they'd chosen.
Together.
Always together.
[New York City - The "Richardson" Apartment - Monday Morning - 7:34 AM]
Dick woke to sunlight streaming through the bedroom window and Zatanna's warmth pressed against his side.
She'd gotten back late last night, exhausted from the drive, and had practically fallen into bed. They'd exchanged brief kisses and "I missed you"s before sleep claimed them both.
But now, in the gentle morning light, they were awake and together.
Zatanna (voice sleepy): "Morning."
Dick (pulling her closer): "Morning yourself. Sleep okay?"
Zatanna (burrowing into his chest): "Sleep’s always better with you around. I missed you."
Dick (kissing her hair): "I missed you too, how was the weekend with your dad?"
Zatanna (propping herself up to look at him): "Perfect. We cooked, talked, caught up on everything. He's doing well. Happy, considering the circumstances."
Dick: "Good. I’m happy you two are making up for lost time."
Zatanna (smiling): "Me too.”
She looked up at him.
Zatanna: ”How was the Manor? Your text said you and Bruce talked?"
Dick's expression shifted to something lighter, more peaceful.
Dick: "We did. Really talked. For the first time in like what… since he got paralyzed? He apologized, Zee. For being emotionally distant, for not supporting me when I needed it, for judging me when I took Slade’s offer, and for trying to control rather than to guide me."
Zatanna (sitting up fully): "Bruce Wayne apologized? Did you check him for pod people?"
Dick (laughing): "I know, right?? But he meant it. He really did, and I apologized too, for leaving the way I did, for the pain it caused."
Zatanna (cupping his face): "But you don't regret leaving."
Dick (meeting her eyes): "No. Never. And Bruce understands that now. Hopefully accepts it."
Zatanna (smiling): "That's... that's good. Really good. Better than what we could’ve hoped for"
Dick (pulling her back down against him): "Yeah. It is. I don’t think we can go back to how things were, but we're building something new. Something better."
They lay in comfortable silence, processing their respective weekends.
Finally, Zatanna spoke.
Zatanna (voice casual but weighted): "My dad asked about marriage."
Dick went very still.
Dick: "He did?"
Zatanna (not looking at him): "Yeah. He wanted to know when you were going to 'make it official'."
Dick (throat working): "And what did you tell him?"
Zatanna (finally meeting his eyes again): "That we hadn't discussed it. That we were focused on our work, our life."
Dick: "But?"
Zatanna (voice small): "But he asked if I wanted to marry you. And I said yes. Without hesitation. Because you're it for me, Dick. The only man I want forever with."
Dick felt his chest tighten with emotion, so powerful it was almost painful.
He held her tight, pulling her impossibly close.
Dick (voice rough): "Of course, Zee. You're it for me too. You're the only woman I want to spend the rest of my life with."
Zatanna (searching his face): "You really mean that?"
Dick (sitting up, pulling her into his lap so they were face-to-face): "Yes. Every single word. Every single time. I love you, Zatanna Zatara. Always."
Zatanna (tears forming): "I love you too, Dick Grayson. Now and forever."
They kissed the way only they knew how. Deep, passionate, claiming. Full of two years of partnership, of love that had survived exile and judgment and impossible choices.
When they finally broke apart, both breathing hard, Dick kept her close.
Dick: "When we're ready, and we'll know when that is, I'm going to ask properly. With a ring, down on my knee, the whole traditional thing your dad probably expects."
Zatanna (laughing through tears): "He'd love that. He’s a very old-fashioned Italian father."
Dick: "And I already have his blessing so…"
Zatanna (voice thick): "He reminded me. Said he approves of you not just because you make me happy, but because you're a good man."
Dick (emotion choking him): "That’s more than what I could ask for."
They held each other as Manhattan woke up around them, the city humming with Monday morning energy.
Finally, Dick spoke again.
Dick: "Bruce mentioned the consultant arrangement. With the League."
Zatanna (nodding against his chest): "Diana brought it up to me too. Last week."
Dick: "What do you think?"
Zatanna (considering): "Access to League intelligence would be valuable. And after Kuala Lumpur? Working with them instead of around them was... It felt good.”
Dick: "But?"
Zatanna (pulling back to look at him): "But we maintain our independence. We continue our work with Slade, Wintergreen, and Constantine. We keep our boundaries and our right to say no."
Dick: "Couldn’t agree more. We're consultants, not members. We help when we choose, on our own terms, with our own methods."
Zatanna: "Think they'll accept that?"
Dick: "Bruce says Clark and Diana are already pushing for exactly that arrangement. Minimal oversight, maximum autonomy, mutual benefit."
Zatanna (smile slow): "Then maybe we say yes. Give it a trial period. See how it works."
Dick (grinning): "Look at us. Compromising. Building bridges. Being mature adults."
Zatanna (laughing): "Don't get carried away. We're still operating with a mercenary, an old coot, and a drunk demon hunter-slash-exorcist."
Dick: "True. Can't get too respectable."
They kissed again, softer this time, celebrating the life they'd built and the future they were planning.
Zatanna (finally): "We should get up. I've got that thing with Constantine in Long Island this afternoon."
Dick (groaning): "And I've got the briefing with Slade about that thing in Beijing for next Thursday.”
Zatanna (eyeing him curiously): “Beijing?”
Dick (yawning): “Yeah. Spy work, courtesy of Uncle Sam through the CIA. ‘John Richardson’ can’t always save the world, he has to make money somehow and has a soon-to-be wife to take care of after all.”
Zatanna felt something bloom in her chest.
Zatanna: “Soon-to-be wife?”
Dick (pulling her closer, grinning from ear to ear): “You don’t like it?”
Zatanna (cupping his face): “I love it.”
Another kiss, with the same ferocity as with all their other kisses.
After pulling apart.
Zatanna: "Adults with responsibilities. How did this happen?"
Dick (pulling her back down as she tried to stand): "Can we stay here? Just for five more minutes?"
Zatanna (settling back against him): "Five more minutes."
They lay there, tangled together, storing up warmth, love, and home for whatever came next.
Because that was their life now; operations and danger and saving lives, balanced with moments like this. Quiet mornings after nights of intense love-making (when they’re not exhausted). Lazy kisses. Planning futures.
Together.
Always together.
No matter what came next.
Dick (whispering to her ear): "Thank you."
Zatanna: "For what?"
Dick: "For choosing me. For staying. For building this life with me. For being my partner in everything."
Zatanna (voice thick): "I should say the same thing. Thank you for choosing me too. For seeing my power, supporting me instead of fearing it. For being exactly who I need."
Dick: "We're pretty lucky, aren't we?"
Zatanna (smiling): "Yeah. We really are."
They finally got up, starting their Monday morning routine with the usual coffee, breakfast, and planning their respective operations. But underneath it all was the promise they'd made to each other.
Forever.
Not yet official. Not yet formalized.
But real. Solid. True.
And when the time came, when they were ready, they'd make it official.
But for now, this was enough.
More than enough.
[Current Status - Two Years, Seven Months Into Exile]
Developments:
- Bruce and Dick: Reconciled, building new relationship
- Giovanni and Zatanna: Monthly visits continuing
- Consultant arrangement: Under serious consideration
- Marriage discussion: Acknowledged, celebrated, planned for future
- Family connections: Maintained and strengthening
Personal Status:
- Dick Grayson: Healed, happy, planning future
- Zatanna Zatara: Powerful, loved, looking forward
- Relationship: Unbreakable, evolving, eternal
Mission Stats:
- Total operations: 135
- Total lives saved: 4,203
- Casualties: 0
- Success rate: 100%
Conclusion: Sometimes the hardest work isn't in operations or combat. Sometimes it's in building relationships, maintaining connections, planning futures.
Dick and Zatanna are learning that now.
And honestly? They're doing pretty damn well.
Chapter 28: "New Beginnings"
Summary:
Two weeks later, Zatanna receives news that the League may have finally found a suitable candidate to be the next host of Doctor Fate...
Chapter Text
[The Watchtower - Conference Room - 2:47 PM - Two Weeks Later]
The conference room felt different than the last time Dick and Zatanna had been here.
Not physically, it still had the same holographic displays, same reinforced walls, same view of Earth spinning below. But the atmosphere had shifted. No judgment. No suspicion. Just careful hope and professional courtesy.
Superman stood at the head of the table, Wonder Woman beside him. Doctor Fate's golden form dominated one corner, imposing but somehow less threatening than usual. And across from them sat Khalid Nassour.
Twenty-three years old, Egyptian-American, dressed in casual clothes that somehow made him look both younger and more serious. Dark hair, intelligent eyes, and a nervous energy that reminded Dick of Tim during his early Robin days.
Clark (gesturing to the chairs): "Dick, Zatanna. Thank you for coming. We wanted you to meet Khalid before making any final decisions."
Dick and Zatanna took their seats, hands briefly touching under the table, reminding each other about their silent support, their partnership, their home.
Khalid (standing, extending his hand to Dick first): "Mr. Grayson. I've heard a lot about you. Your tactical work with the Team during the Reach invasion was... inspiring."
Dick (taking his hand, firm grip): "Just Dick, please. And thank you. But we're not here to talk about me."
Khalid (turning to Zatanna, something almost reverential): "Ms. Zatara. Your father... Doctor Fate has told me about what he's endured. About what you've endured. I want you to know that I understand the weight of what we're discussing."
Zatanna (studying him carefully): "Do you though? Do you really understand what you're agreeing to?"
Khalid sat back down, composing himself.
Khalid: "My parents died six months ago. I don't want to divulge on the details yet but one moment they were there, the next...", he stopped, breath hitching. "I spent weeks after their funeral trying to understand why. Why them? Why not me? What was the point?"
Diana (voice gentle): "Loss without meaning is the hardest to bear."
Khalid (nodding): "I found my uncle's things. Kent Nelson's journals, his magic shows recordings, letters he'd written to my father about serving as Doctor Fate. And I realized, he'd found meaning in service. In protecting people. In being something more than just himself."
Dick (leaning forward): "But Kent Nelson lost everything to that service. His wife, his normal life, decades trapped in that helmet."
Khalid (meeting his eyes): "I know. And that's exactly why I'm here. Because the League learned from those mistakes. Because they're offering something different now."
He turned to Doctor Fate.
Khalid: "Tell them what we discussed."
Doctor Fate's golden form seemed to shift, and when he spoke, both Nabu's ancient power and Giovanni's Italian warmth came through.
Doctor Fate: "The arrangement with Giovanni Zatara was born of desperation. Klarion had endangered the world, Zatanna donned the Helmet to stop him, and Giovanni sacrificed himself to free her. It was necessary but wrong. No father should have to watch his daughter grow up from inside a prison of his own making."
Zatanna (voice tight): "So why should Khalid be different? What's changed?"
Doctor Fate: "I have changed. Or rather, I have been forced to change by your words, Zatanna Zatara. You were correct when you confronted me. What I did, taking your father, trapping him for eight years, was unbecoming of a Lord of Order. How can I claim to represent balance when my actions created such chaos in your life?"
The admission hung heavy in the air.
Clark and Diana exchanged glances, they'd clearly heard this before but still found it surprising.
Doctor Fate (continuing): "Khalid Nassour has agreed to serve as my vessel. But not as Giovanni serves. Not trapped, helpless, stolen from life."
Diana: "We've negotiated new terms. Should Khalid complete his training and accept the mantle permanently, he will serve as Doctor Fate's guardian rather than his perpetual host."
Clark: "Meaning that he keeps the Helmet. Protects it. But only dons it when mystic threats require Doctor Fate's direct intervention."
Khalid (voice firm): "I'll have my own life. My own relationships. My own existence. Just with the responsibility of being Doctor Fate when the world needs him."
Dick felt Zatanna tense beside him, processing the implications.
Zatanna (slowly): "And my father?"
Doctor Fate: "Once Khalid's training is complete and he accepts the mantle, Giovanni Zatara will be released. Permanently. No more monthly weekends. No more helmet. Just freedom."
Zatanna's breath caught, tears forming immediately.
Zatanna (voice breaking): "When?"
Doctor Fate: "The training will take time. Months, depending on Khalid's progress. But at the end? Your father returns to you. Fully. Completely."
Dick moved without thinking, arm wrapping around Zatanna as she started crying. Not sad tears, relieved tears. Happy tears.
Eight years. Eight years of stolen time, of monthly weekends that were never enough, of watching her father disappear into that golden helmet over and over.
And now? An end in sight.
Khalid (voice soft): "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to—"
Zatanna (wiping her eyes, looking at him): "No. Don't apologize. You're giving me my father back. You're... you're giving him a life."
She stood suddenly, moving around the table to stand before Khalid.
Zatanna: "But I need to know. I need to hear it from you. Are you sure about this? Being Doctor Fate's guardian isn't… it's not a small thing. It's a burden. One you'll carry for the rest of your life."
Khalid (standing to meet her, that determination bright in his eyes): "I understand what I'm agreeing to, Ms. Zatara. My parents are gone. My uncle is gone. I have no siblings, no close family left. Just me and the legacy they left behind."
He paused, gathering courage.
Khalid: "I've read Uncle Kent's journals. Seen what serving as Doctor Fate cost him. But I've also seen what it gave him. Purpose. Meaning. The chance to protect millions of people who never even knew his name. That's... that's what I want. To matter. To make a difference."
Zatanna (searching his face): "Even knowing what you'll give up? The normal life? The freedom to just be Khalid Nassour without cosmic responsibility?"
Khalid (voice steady): "I will have that life. That's what makes this different from what Kent and your father endured. I'll have friends, relationships, a future beyond the helmet. I'll just also have the honour of serving as Doctor Fate when needed."
Zatanna turned to Doctor Fate, and Dick saw steel in her posture.
Zatanna (voice hard): "I hope you understand, Nabu. Khalid is still young. He has his whole life ahead of him. And here we are, asking him to be willing to sacrifice that life because he wants to serve the world that took everything from him."
Doctor Fate (meeting her intensity): "I understand. I have come to learn from my mistakes with Kent Nelson and Giovanni Zatara. The weight of cosmic balance should not require the destruction of individual lives."
Zatanna: "And?"
Doctor Fate: "Khalid Nassour does have the right to his own life. The right to exist beyond my purpose. Once we complete his training and he accepts the mantle of Doctor Fate, I will ensure he does not surrender himself to the Helmet full-time."
The golden form seemed to solidify, as if Nabu was making a vow.
Doctor Fate: "He shall have a life of his own. To build connections. To build relationships. To love and be loved. To live. All I ask is that he keeps the Helmet as its guardian, and when the need arises, only then, should he don the Helmet of Fate."
He turned slightly, addressing both Zatanna and Khalid.
Doctor Fate: "Are these terms acceptable to you?"
Zatanna (her demeanor calmer now, but the intensity in her posture and the look in her eyes not diminishing): "Don't ask me. Ask Khalid."
Every eye in the room turned to the young man who'd just been offered an impossible responsibility with unprecedented freedom attached.
Khalid (no hesitation, that same firm resolution): "Yes. I am still willing. I want this. Not because I'm Kent Nelson's nephew or because I feel obligated. But because I choose it. I choose to serve. To protect. To be Doctor Fate when the world needs him, while still being myself when it doesn't."
Doctor Fate (something like satisfaction): "Then it is settled. We shall begin your training as soon as you wish to start."
Khalid (nodding): "I'm ready any day of the week. Tomorrow, if that works."
Clark (smiling): "Tomorrow works. We'll set up accommodations here at the Watchtower. Training facilities, magical resources, everything you'll need."
Diana: "And Zatanna, we'd like your input during the training process. Your expertise with both traditional and... unconventional magic would be invaluable."
Zatanna (glancing at Dick, who nodded encouragement): "I can do that. Make sure Khalid learns proper control. Proper boundaries. Everything Nabu might overlook in favor of raw power."
Doctor Fate: "Your assistance would be appreciated, Daughter of Zatara."
The meeting continued another hour, they spoke of logistics, training schedules, protocols for when Khalid would need to assume the Doctor Fate mantle. Dick mostly listened, watching Zatanna engage with the discussion, seeing her transform from the hurt daughter to the powerful sorceress offering guidance.
Finally, as the meeting concluded, Khalid approached them again.
Khalid (to Zatanna): "Thank you. For advocating for me. For making sure I'd have a real life beyond service."
Zatanna (voice thick): "Thank you for being willing. For giving my father back to me."
Khalid (slight smile): "He talks about you, you know. When Nabu allows it. Says you're the most powerful sorceress he's ever known. That you've grown beyond anything he could have taught you."
Zatanna (tears threatening again): "He... he said that?"
Khalid: "Every chance he gets. He's proud of you. Of who you've become. Of the choices you've made, even when they were hard."
Dick pulled Zatanna against his side as she started crying again, overwhelmed by the weight of her father's approval conveyed through a stranger who'd become a lifeline.
Dick (to Khalid): "Thank you. For telling her that. She needed to hear it."
Khalid: "It's just the truth.", he paused, "I hope... I hope we can be friends. Once training starts. I'll need all the guidance I can get, and you two seem to understand this world better than anyone."
Dick (extending his hand): "Friends sounds good. And Khalid? You've got our support. Whatever you need."
They shook hands as something settled, a new alliance of sorts? A new connection, built on shared understanding of sacrifice and service.
[Zeta Tube Bay - 4:23 PM]
Dick and Zatanna materialized in their usual spot in Greenwich Village, the false identities of John and Anna Zane Richardson sliding back into place like comfortable masks.
They walked home in silence, Zatanna processing everything with Dick beside her just being present, a steady anchor while her world shifted beneath her.
Finally, at their apartment door, Zatanna spoke.
Zatanna (voice small): "My dad's going to be free. Really free."
Dick (unlocking the door): "Yeah. He is."
Zatanna (following him inside): "Months, depending on how Khalid’s training goes. And then he's just... mine again. Not one weekend a month. Always."
Dick (pulling her close): "How do you feel about that?"
Zatanna (burying her face in his chest): "Terrified? Grateful. Overwhelmed. Like I can't quite believe it's real."
Dick (holding her tight): "It's real, Zee. Khalid's going to train. Nabu's going to honour his word. And your father will be free."
Zatanna pulled back, looking up at him with those eyes that always saw straight through to his soul.
Zatanna: "I couldn't have done this without you. Without your support. Your presence."
Dick (cupping her face): "You would have. You're the strongest person I know."
Zatanna (tears falling): "But I didn't have to do it alone. That's what matters. You were there. You're always there."
They kissed, soft and sweet, celebrating the miracle they'd just witnessed.
When they pulled apart, Dick guided her toward the bathroom.
Dick: "Shower. Then food. Then we process this properly."
Zatanna (following): "Greek takeout?"
Dick (grin): "Is there any other kind?"
[Their Apartment - 7:34 PM]
The shower had been long, cleansing more than just the day's tension. They'd stood under the hot water, holding each other, letting the weight of the meeting wash away.
Now they sat on the couch, Greek food containers scattered across the coffee table, comfortable clothes, bare feet, home.
Zatanna (picking at her souvlaki): "I keep thinking about what Khalid said. About my dad being proud of me."
Dick (also eating): "Of course he is. How could he not be?"
Zatanna: "Because I've done things, learned things, that probably horrify him but he doesn’t say it out loud. Dark magic. Working with Constantine. Operating outside League oversight with you and Slade."
Dick (setting down his food, taking her hand): "And he's still proud. Because you chose those things for the right reasons. To protect people. To never feel helpless again. To be strong enough to face anything."
Zatanna (throat working): "Do you really think so?"
Dick (meeting her eyes): "I know so. And when he's free? When you can actually sit down with him, just the two of you, without the helmet looming? You'll hear it directly from him. All the pride, all the love, all the understanding he couldn't express before."
Zatanna (tears forming again): "I'm going to be a mess when that happens."
Dick (pulling her against his side): "And I'll be right there with you. Being a mess together."
They ate in comfortable silence, processing the enormity of what was coming.
Finally, Zatanna spoke again.
Zatanna: "Will you help? With Khalid's training?"
Dick (surprised): "Me? I don't know magic—"
Zatanna (cutting him off): "But you know tactics? Strategy. How to operate under pressure. How to be effective without losing yourself.", she turned to face him fully, "Khalid's going to need that. The magical training from Nabu is one thing, but learning how to be a hero? That's something you understand better than anyone."
Dick (considering): "If he wants my input, yeah. I can help with that."
Zatanna (smiling): "Thank you."
Dick: "But Zee? This is your thing. Your chance to shape the next Doctor Fate. To ensure he doesn't repeat the mistakes of the past. Don't hold back. Don't second-guess yourself. You're one of the most powerful sorceresses on the planet. Use that."
Dick (voice thick): "And Zee, I'm proud of you. I really am."
Zatanna (confused): "For what?"
Dick (smiling): "For standing up for Khalid like you did. For asking the hard questions. I was just there as your support, but you were the one who took the lead."
Dick (pulling her into his lap): "And I’m happy for you, that and so much more. I think that's what partners do."
Zatanna (wrapping her arms around his neck): "We're pretty good at this partnership thing, aren't we?"
Dick (grinning): "We've had lots of practice."
They kissed again, deeper this time, celebratory and relieved and full of love that had survived exile and judgment and impossible choices.
When they pulled apart, both flushed, Zatanna's expression turned serious.
Zatanna: "I need to say this. While we're both clear-headed and before I lose my nerve."
Dick (immediately attentive): "Okay. I'm listening."
Zatanna took a breath, gathering courage.
Zatanna: "Thank you for always being there for me. For choosing to trust me in everything, just like how I trusted you when you decided to take Slade's offer. For not fearing me or shutting me out when I learned dark magic from Constantine. For being there when Nabu agreed to let me see my father again for the first time in years."
Her voice cracked, tears forming.
Zatanna: "For always being there for me. Always encouraging me to grow. For never stopping to love me after everything we've been through. For seeing my power and celebrating it instead of being threatened by it. For being my friend, my confidant, my lover, my partner in every sense of the word."
Dick felt his own eyes stinging, emotion choking him.
Dick (voice rough): "Zee—"
Zatanna (continuing, needing to get it all out): "You don't understand what you've given me. The freedom to be powerful without apology. The safety to be vulnerable without fear. The certainty that no matter how dark things get, I'll never face it alone."
She cupped his face, making sure he was really hearing her.
Zatanna: "You've given me everything, Dick Grayson. And I don't know if I've told you that enough. If I've made sure you know how much you matter. How much I need you. How much I love you."
Dick (pulling her closer): "You don't have to thank me, Zee. That's what I'm here for. And besides, you already do just as much for me."
He kissed her forehead, then her cheeks, tasting salt from her tears.
Dick: "You gave me a reason to choose myself. A partner who understood when I needed space and welcomed me back when I was ready. Someone who never tried to change me or make me into something I'm not."
His own voice was thick now.
Dick: "You gave me home, Zatanna. Not a place. Not a building. But a person. Someone I can be completely myself with. Someone who sees all my broken pieces and loves me anyway."
They stared at each other, two people who'd walked through fire and emerged stronger, bound together by choices and sacrifice and love that refused to break.
Zatanna pulled his lips to hers, and this kiss was different; it was desperate, claiming, full of everything they couldn't put into words.
She bit his lower lip as he sucked on hers, tongues swirling, never yielding, trying to assert dominance in the way only they knew how.
When they pulled apart, panting, foreheads touching, Zatanna had that look in her eyes, the one that showed everything. Compassion, passion, understanding, partnership, devotion, and love so fierce it was almost painful.
Dick looked at her the same way, their eyes being portals to each other's souls.
Zatanna (voice hoarse with emotion): "I love you, Dick Grayson. Forever and always."
Dick (equally raw): "I love you too, Zatanna Zatara. Now and forever."
Zatanna stood, pulling him toward the bedroom, need and love and celebration all tangled together.
[Their Bedroom - 8:47 PM]
They fell into bed together, hands already working on clothes, desperate to be closer, to celebrate this impossible day in the most intimate way possible.
Dick pulled Zatanna's shirt over her head, reverent, like unwrapping something precious. His lips found her neck, that spot just below her ear that always made her gasp.
Zatanna (arching into him): "Dick—"
Dick (kissing down her collarbone): "I've got you, Zee. Always."
She tugged at his shirt and he helped her remove it, their skin finally meeting, warm and electric.
They took their time, memorizing each other even though they knew every curve, every scar, every place that made the other fall apart.
When they finally came together, it was fierce and passionate and full of love and devotion in the way only they knew how. Two years of partnership, of exile, of building something theirs poured into every touch, every kiss, every whispered declaration.
Zatanna (moving with him): "I love you—God, I love you—"
Dick (holding her close): "Love you too—always—always—"
They moved together, perfect synchronization, giving and taking, building toward something transcendent.
When they reached their peak, it was together, crying out each other's names, holding tight, grounding themselves in the physical reality of this. Of them. Of what they'd built.
After, they lay tangled in sheets, cooling in the night air, hearts still racing.
Zatanna (head on Dick's chest, listening to his heartbeat): "We should probably eat more. That food's getting cold."
Dick (fingers tracing patterns on her back): "In a minute. Don't want to move yet."
Zatanna (smile against his skin): "Me neither."
They lay in comfortable silence, processing the day, the promise of Giovanni's freedom, the new alliance with Khalid.
Dick (quietly): "A few more months. Then your dad's yours again."
Zatanna (tightening her hold): "And I'll have you there with me. When he's freed. When we figure out what comes next."
Dick: "Nowhere else I'd rather be."
Zatanna lifted her head, meeting his eyes in the dim light.
Zatanna: "Promise me something?"
Dick: "Anything."
Zatanna: "When my dad's free. When Khalid takes the mantle. When everything settles... Promise we'll figure out what comes next for us? Not just our operations or our work. But us. Our future."
Dick (understanding what she was really asking): "I promise. We'll figure it out together."
Zatanna smiled, radiant even in the darkness, and kissed him again.
Soft, sweet, home.
They made love again, slower this time, with more intensity than before. Savoring every touch, every gasp, every moment of connection.
Building toward something even more powerful, celebrating not just the day's victory but the life they'd built, the partnership they'd forged, the love that had survived everything thrown at it.
When they reached their climax this time, it was transcendent, not just physical release but emotional affirmation. A promise made through touch and breath and desperate need.
Forever. Always. Together.
After, truly exhausted now, they fell asleep in each other's embrace, Dick's arms wrapped protectively around Zatanna, her head tucked under his chin.
Safe. Loved. Complete.
Tomorrow? They'd wake up and return to their complicated lives with their operations, training, maintaining boundaries with the League while building new bridges.
Zatanna even thought of asking for Constantine’s input in Khalid’s training.
But tonight? Tonight they had this.
Each other. Their love. Their certainty.
And the knowledge that in three months, maybe four, everything would change again.
But they'd face it the same way they'd faced everything else.
Together.
Always together.
[Current Status - Two Years, Eight Months Into Exile]
Developments:
- Khalid Nassour: Accepted as Doctor Fate's new vessel
- Giovanni Zatara: Freedom imminent (maybe around 3-4 months?)
- Training arrangement: Zatanna consulting, Dick supporting
- Consultant status: Still under consideration
- Future planning: Acknowledged, discussed, celebrated
Personal Status:
- Dick Grayson: Supportive, proud, present
- Zatanna Zatara: Emotional, hopeful, empowered
- Relationship: Unbreakable, evolving, eternal
Mission Stats:
- Total operations: 135
- Total lives saved: 4,203
- Casualties: 0
- Success rate: 100%
Conclusion: Sometimes the greatest victories aren't on battlefields or in combat. Sometimes they're in watching cosmic entities learn humility. In seeing young heroes choose service without sacrifice. In knowing that fathers will soon be reunited with daughters.
Dick and Zatanna are witnessing that now.
And they're doing it together.
Always together.
Forever.
Chapter 29: "Legacies"
Summary:
Downtime after Dick and Slade's most-recent op in Shanghai and during that moment of peace and quiet, Dick asks Slade one of the longest-burning questions he's had on his mind for a quite a while now...
Chapter Text
[Shanghai - Luxury Hotel Suite - 2:47 AM - Three Months After Khalid's Training Began]
The operation had gone perfectly.
Chinese government secrets extracted, courtesy of their Federal contractors (different from the Beijing op a couple of weeks back). Zero casualties. Zero traces. The kind of clean work that made Dick and Slade's partnership legendary in the intelligence community.
Now they sat in the safehouse Wintergreen had secured, a luxury suite that screamed "wealthy businessmen" rather than "international operatives".
Perfect cover.
Slade sat by the window, beer in hand, watching Shanghai's neon skyline. Dick collapsed on the couch, exhausted but satisfied. The Renegade suit's chest plate lay on the coffee table, carefully maintained after three hours of intense work.
Wintergreen emerged from the kitchenette with impeccable timing, carrying a tray.
Wintergreen: "Tea for the lad, beer for the bastard, and biscuits because someone needs to maintain civilized standards around here."
Slade (not looking away from the window): "Your British is showing, Bishop."
Wintergreen: "As it should. Someone needs to prevent you two from becoming complete savages.", he set down the tray, "Mission debrief in the morning. Try not to stay up all night drinking and brooding."
Slade (raising his beer): "No promises."
Wintergreen rolled his eyes and retreated to his room, leaving Dick and Slade in comfortable silence.
Dick accepted the tea gratefully, the warmth grounding him after the adrenaline crash. Three years since his and Zatanna's self-exile. Three years of increasingly complex operations with Slade and Wintergreen had created a rhythm between them.
Not quite father and son, not quite mentor and student. Something more. Something harder to define.
They sat in silence for a while, the kind that only came from people who'd bled together, trusted each other with their lives, built something real in the spaces between violence and victory.
Slade (finally breaking the silence): "So… Three years. Feels longer, doesn't it?"
Dick (slight smile): "Sometimes. Other times it feels like yesterday you were breaking me down on that obstacle course."
Slade (chuckling): "You've come a long way since then, kid. Hell, you've surpassed what I expected. Thought you'd plateau after a year, maybe two. But you kept improving. Kept adapting."
Dick: "I had good teachers. You, Wintergreen, even Zatanna pushed me in ways I didn't expect."
Slade turned fully from the window, studying Dick with that single eye that saw everything.
Slade: "Speaking of which. You and the Team. The Family. Word through Jason is you've been reconnecting. Regular meetups. Actually talking to people."
Dick (nodding): "Yeah. Started with Jason and Artemis individually. Then expanded. It's... good. Different from before exile, but still good nonetheless."
Slade: "And Bruce?"
Dick's expression shifted to something more complex, a mixture of old pain and new understanding.
Dick: "We talked. Really talked. He apologized, I apologized. We're rebuilding. Not the same as we were, but... something. Adults who respect each other's choices."
Slade (approving): "That's actually healthy. Better than pretending the past didn't happen."
Dick: "Selina helped. She's good for him. Makes him actually express emotions instead of grunting and brooding."
Slade (laughing): "Sounds like someone needed to do that."
They drank in comfortable silence.
Slade: "The League's been sniffing around. Consultant offers. Intelligence sharing. What's your play there?"
Dick (considering): "Zee and I have been discussing it. The access to League resources would be valuable. And working with them instead of around them in Kuala Lumpur was... it reminded me why I loved being on the Team in the first place."
Slade: "But?"
Dick: "But we maintain independence. We're consultants, not members. We help when we choose, on our terms, with our methods. No oversight. No pressure to conform."
Slade (nodding): "Smart. Take what benefits you, maintain what matters. That's good strategy."
Dick: "Clark and Diana have been advocating for exactly that arrangement. Minimal oversight, maximum autonomy, mutual benefit."
Slade: "And you trust them?"
Dick (honest): "More than I did years ago. They've proven themselves. Apologized. Shown that they can accept us as we are."
Slade took a long drink, considering.
Slade: "What about long-term? You and Zatanna planning to keep this up forever? Running ops, playing both sides, staying in the gray?"
Dick's expression softened, became something warm and hopeful.
Dick: "Eventually, we want to rejoin properly. Not now, maybe not for years. But someday. When we're ready. When we've proven we can do both. Be League heroes and maintain the work that matters."
Slade: "Nightwing and Sorceress returning to the fold?"
Dick: "Maybe. With Renegade still available for the work Nightwing can't touch. Two mantles. Both necessary. Both mine."
Slade (something like pride): "That's maturity talking. Recognizing you can be both. That you don't have to choose between effective and heroic."
Dick: "You taught me that. That there's more than one way to save people. That sometimes the gray areas are where the most good happens."
Slade: "And personally? You and Zatanna?"
Dick's face transformed into something else.
Pure love, unguarded, and beautiful.
Dick: "I'm going to ask her to marry me. Not yet, I’m waiting for the right moment. But soon. Within the year, hopefully."
Slade (rare genuine smile): "About time. The woman's been waiting for you to get your head out of your ass."
Dick (laughing): "Probably. Giovanni's already given his blessing multiple times and very enthusiastically."
Slade: "Giovanni’s a good man. Well, as ‘good’ one can get for a guy trapped in a cosmic helmet most of the time."
Dick: "He's free one weekend a month now. Thanks to Nabu finally getting his head out of his own ass. It's been good for Zee having her father back."
Slade (voice softer): "So I’ve heard, family's important. Even when it's complicated. Especially when it's complicated."
Something in his tone made Dick look up sharply.
Dick: "Slade, are you—"
Slade (cutting him off, voice harder): "I'm fine. Just... thinking about legacy. About what gets left behind when we're gone."
Dick felt something cold settle in his stomach. That tone. That shift. Something was coming. Something important.
Dick set down his tea, giving Slade his full attention.
Dick: "Slade?"
Slade (taking a swig): "What is it, kid?"
Dick gathered his courage, asking the question that had been burning in his mind for nearly three years.
Dick: "I just wanna know. You're in with the Light but you helped me? After everything, you're still here. Still helping me and Zee, still harbouring us even when the League wanted us. At first I thought this was all just manipulation. That you’ll ask me, ask us to join the Light sooner or later. But you haven’t, why?"
Slade turned slightly, that single eye studying Dick with an intensity that could strip paint.
Slade: "Is that right?"
Wintergreen's voice called from his room, clearly eavesdropping.
Wintergreen: "And that's my cue to leave you lads to it. Enjoy yourselves."
Slade (shouting back): "Fuck you too, Wintergreen!"
The door clicked shut. Just Dick and Slade now, the Shanghai skyline bearing witness to whatever truth was about to emerge.
Dick (leaning forward): "I just want to know. Why?"
Slade was quiet for a long moment, beer forgotten, staring at the city below like it held answers.
Slade (finally): "I already told you kid, I don't want to be fully unredeemable. If I die today, tomorrow, or the days after that, I wanna die knowing I at least did something right in my life."
Dick: "But you're not letting me and Zatanna deal with the Light directly."
Slade's jaw tightened. He set down his beer and turned fully to face Dick.
Slade: "Let me be real with you."
Dick (meeting his gaze): "By all means."
Slade took a deep breath, and Dick saw something he'd rarely witnessed—fear. Not for himself, but for them.
Slade: "The Light knows I have a partner now. They have for a long time now. They see all the things you and Zatanna are doing. And I'm keeping everything in my power to prevent them from finding out who you two are because if they do…
His voice trailed.
Slade: “They'll kill me first, then, they'll kill you two next."
Dick felt ice in his veins.
Dick: "So leave. If we can turn our back on the League, you can turn your back against the Light—"
Slade (cutting him off, voice hard): "It ain't that simple, kid. Sure, I'm technically a 'paid contractor' for the Light? But we all know that's just bullshit. They've already kicked out Ra's and they want me to take his seat at the table."
Dick (stunned): "Slade..."
Slade (continuing, something bitter in his voice): "I told them I'd prefer remaining as a paid asset, but they've been bringing me in on more internal meetings now. Vandal Savage, Lex Luthor, Queen Bee, Klarion, the whole works."
He stood, moving to pour himself something stronger than beer.
Slade: "I'm not accepting their offers because I don't want to get involved with the shit they're planning anymore than I already do. And because I don't want them to kill you and Zatanna. I promised you two I'll protect you, I meant it."
Dick (standing too, frustrated): "But Slade, you know I can't just let that shit slide while we do real good work—"
Slade (turning, something almost like pride in his expression): "I know, kid, that's why I'm letting the League and the Team handle the Light."
Dick stopped mid-sentence.
Dick (slowly): "What?"
Slade (taking a swig of the whiskey, voice casual): "I've been feeding intel to the League and your Team. The latest takedown they did on the Light's latest scheme?"
Dick (remembering): "We know, we saw it on the news."
Slade: "The League and the Team couldn't have done it without insider information. Insider information I possess, so I leak things to them. Bits and pieces enough for the Light not to realize it's from me, and then I let the League or the Team piece it together on their own."
Dick was silent, mind racing through implications, calculating risks, understanding finally clicking into place.
All those successful League operations against the Light.
All those perfectly-timed interventions.
Not luck.
It was Slade.
Dick (voice quiet): "I know you're not the one personally handing the intel over, you have a handler, who is it?"
Slade took another swig from his whiskey, almost like he needed the courage.
Slade: "Jason."
Time stopped.
Dick felt the world tilt, his enhanced senses suddenly too sharp, picking up every detail—the way Slade's hand tightened on the glass, the distant sound of Shanghai traffic, his own heartbeat thundering in his ears.
Dick: "Jason? That Jason? Are we talking about the same Jason or—"
Slade (meeting his eyes): "Jason Todd. Your brother, yes, he's my insider contact from when he wanted to talk to you. Now, he’s also my information handler."
Dick collapsed back onto the couch, legs suddenly weak.
Dick: "But... but how?"
Slade moved to sit across from him, and Dick saw something almost gentle in that weathered face.
Slade: "I was the one who offered, not long after you two started talking again, and he accepted. Said that if you were crazy enough to trust me after all this time, then that's gotta count for something."
Dick: "I... I can't believe it."
Slade: "Take as much time as you need, but as for our arrangements? I leak the information to him, and he's the one who handles the dissemination. Leaving the bits and pieces for either Bruce, Tim, or anyone else to pick up then they piece it all together to uncover the Light's next scheme."
Dick ran his hands through his hair, trying to process this.
Jason. Working with Slade. Helping take down the Light. Protecting Dick's secret while feeding intelligence to the people trying to stop the world's most dangerous conspiracy.
Dick (voice breaking): "Jesus... Slade, if the Light finds out... They'll kill you."
Slade (smirking, that familiar dangerous confidence): "You think I don't know that? Or have you not been paying attention to me the past half-hour?"
Dick: "And what about Jason? What's his take in all of this?"
Slade's expression softened in a way Dick had never seen before.
Slade: "Kid didn't ask for anything, he just wants to know if you're okay, that you keep up the usual rendezvous to catch up. Said to 'Keep my older brother alive, that's all you need to do for me in exchange. I don't want the coolest eldest brother ever to die on me.'"
Dick felt tears prick his eyes.
Dick (throat tight): "Jason said that?"
Slade (taking another swig): "Mhm. Apparently driving that huge middle finger in front of Bruce's face and forging your own path made him respect you even more."
A long silence fell between them, heavy with emotion Dick didn't know how to process.
Afterwards, Slade stood and moved to a secure safe built into the wall. He input a code Dick didn't recognize, and the door clicked open.
Slade (pulling something out): "Anyways, before you hit the hay for the night, I want to give you something."
Dick: "What is it?"
Slade turned, holding an external solid state drive. Small. Innocuous. Absolutely terrifying in its implications.
Slade: "My dead man's switch."
Dick went completely still.
Dick (standing slowly): "Your what?"
Slade moved back to his seat, setting the drive on the table between them like a grenade.
Slade: "I already told you I'm not living forever kid. And after everything I've done? I know my time is limited. I've taken in and harboured Batman's first protégé as if he was my own, I've been feeding intel to the Justice League all while lying to the Light with a straight face. I'm basically a walking death sentence ready to happen."
Dick (voice hollow): "Slade..."
Slade (continuing, matter-of-fact): "There are three of those. The second one's with Wintergreen and I've set the third one remotely to go public.”
Slade leaned in closer, tapping the middle of his chest with two fingers.
Slade: ”Once the sensor implanted in my heart is destroyed, forcibly removed, or detects that my heart hasn't been beating in 48 hours? All the dead man's switches unlock, the one I've designated for the public will leak terabytes of information onto the internet. All the dirt I have on the Light and all the worst criminals and organizations in the world that I've ever had the displeasure of working with."
He met Dick's eyes directly.
Slade: "As for yours and Wintergreen's? They're identical copies. Everything that's already on the public drive plus more of the things I keep secret. Profiles, reports, dossiers, plans, schematics, entire portfolios. Details on all my offshore bank accounts, properties, and assets all around the world, split evenly between you and William. And of course, the formula for the refined super soldier serum I used on you."
Dick didn't know what to say.
This wasn't just a talk…
This was Slade Wilson.
Deathstroke.
Giving away his last will and testament…
Dick (throat working): "I... I don't know what to say."
Slade (slight smile): "Then don't. Hell, I should even be thanking you."
Dick (confused): "Thanking me? Why?"
Slade leaned forward again, and Dick saw something he'd never expected.
Gratitude.
Real, honest gratitude.
Slade: "Because you said yes. You accepted my offer, and in doing so, you gave this old bastard one last chance to do something right in the world."
He took another drink, voice becoming rough.
Slade: "I taught you everything I've ever known, kid. When I die, Deathstroke dies with me. But I'll die happy knowing that for all my shortcomings, for all my sins and wrongdoings, for all the bad I've ever done in my life?”
Slade smiled.
Slade: “I know I'm damned to hell but at least I did something right in passing down everything I've accumulated to someone worthy. Renegade is yours, Dick. Make it count."
Something broke in Dick's chest.
All the barriers, all the careful distance he'd maintained, all the reminders that this was just training, just partnership, gone.
Dick stood, tears streaming, and pulled Slade into a fierce hug.
Slade (surprised): "Hey! Kid, Jesus! What the fuck—"
Dick (holding him tight, voice breaking): "Thank you. For being there when I needed someone. For trusting me with all of this. For seeing the potential in me and letting it grow.”
Dick: “I won't let you down."
Slade (after a moment, awkwardly patting Dick's back): "Yeah, well, that's enough waterworks kid."
But he didn't pull away. Not for a long moment.
When they finally separated, both pretending their eyes weren't wet, Slade cleared his throat.
Slade: "Catch some sleep. We still have that debrief in the morning and got another job lined up next week. Courtesy of our paymasters from Uncle Sam and the CIA."
Dick (wiping his eyes): "Copy that."
He moved toward the door, pocketing the drive with trembling hands, when Wintergreen intercepted him in the hallway.
Wintergreen (voice soft): "So he finally told you?"
Dick: "He did."
Wintergreen (nodding): "Good. About damn time he did."
He placed a hand on Dick's shoulder, grip firm and warm.
Wintergreen: "You're doing good work, kid. Stay safe, stay alive, because when the time comes? You'll be inheriting my rubbish too."
Dick (voice thick): "I won't let you down, both of you. I promise."
Wintergreen (slight smile): "I know you won't. Now get out of here."
Dick made his way to his quarters in the safehouse with the weight of Slade's legacy in his pocket and tears still wet on his face.
Behind him, Slade and Wintergreen stood together.
Wintergreen: "That was harder than you expected, wasn't it?"
Slade (downing the rest of his whiskey): "Yeah. It was."
Wintergreen: "He's a good kid. Better than we deserve."
Slade: "I know. That's why he's getting everything. When I'm gone, when you're gone, he'll carry it forward. Make it mean something."
Wintergreen: "Think he'll forgive us? For keeping the Jason thing secret?"
Slade (slight smile): "He already has. That's just who he is."
They stood in silence, two old soldiers who'd found something precious late in life.
Redemption.
Or at least the chance at it.
Chapter 30: "The Question"
Summary:
With everything that's happened recently, Dick decides that it's high time to finally ask Zee 'the question'...
Chapter Text
[New York City - The "Richardson" Apartment - 6:47 PM - Four Weeks After Shanghai]
Dick stood in their bedroom, adjusting his tie for the third time, hands trembling slightly despite years of maintaining perfect composure under pressure.
Gunfights? Easy. Espionage? Simple. Proposing to the woman he loved?
Absolutely fucking terrifying.
The ring box sat on the dresser, small black velvet that held everything.
His future, their future, the promise of forever.
He'd been planning this for ever since Shanghai, ever since Slade's legacy talk had crystallized something fundamental in his brain.
Life was short, precious, and shouldn't be wasted on hesitation.
The help had come from unexpected sources.
[Two Weeks Ago - Wayne Manor - Bruce's Study]
Dick had knocked, nervous in a way that felt ridiculous for someone who'd faced down Bane and survived building collapses.
Bruce (looking up from his work): "Dick. This is unexpected."
Dick (closing the door): "Alfred let me in, and I need your help. With something personal."
Bruce's expression had shifted immediately. Concern? Curiosity? That protective instinct that never quite went away despite their complicated history.
Bruce: "What's wrong?"
Dick (pulling out his phone, showing him the ring designs): "Nothing's wrong. Everything's... right, surprisingly. I'm going to propose to Zatanna. And I need advice on the ring."
The silence that followed was profound.
Then Bruce had smiled, something genuine, warm, and proud.
Bruce (standing, moving around the desk): "Dick. That's... that's wonderful."
Dick (throat tight): "You think so?"
Bruce (pulling him into a hug): "I know so. She's perfect for you, chum.
They'd spent an hour discussing rings with Alfred bringing in the tea and crumpets because of course he did.
Cuts, settings, what would suit Zatanna best. Bruce had shared stories about proposing to Selina (three times, apparently, before she finally said yes), about the weight of that moment, the fear and hope tangled together.
Bruce (finally): "Whatever you choose, she'll love it. Because it's from you. Because it means you're choosing her, permanently, completely."
Dick (voice rough): "Thanks, Bruce. For this. For understanding."
Bruce (squeezing his shoulder): "I should be thanking you too. For trusting me with this, for letting me be part of it."
Alfred: “As you should, Master Bruce.”
Of course Alfred came out of nowhere carrying a tray of refreshments. The aged butler then turned to Dick.
Alfred: “When you’ve decided, Master Dick. Please do inform me, I shall accompany you to the family jeweler.”
Dick (chuckling): “Absolutely, Alfred. I can’t argue with your tastes.”
Alfred: “Damn right, my boy.”
[One Week Ago - Red Hood's Safehouse - Gotham]
Jason had looked at the ring box like Dick had just handed him a live grenade.
Jason: "You want me to do what?"
Dick (patient): "Help me plan the proposal. I need someone who won't go overboard with sentimentality."
Jason (still staring): "And you thought me? The guy who once tried to kill you and who runs around Gotham with two pistols and a helmet?"
Dick (slight smile): "You're my brother, Jay. And honestly? The only person I can talk to something like this. Tim and Babs would probably develop a meticulous plan that would probably fall apart in 5 minutes, Steph will squeal within minutes, and I can't really drag Damian and Duke into this.”
Jason (laughing): “Cass is out of the picture, but what about Kate?”
Dick: “Let’s not talk about Kate.”
Dick (continuing): “I’ve already asked for Bruce and Alfred’s help for the ring, by extension, Selina probably already knows too. You've kept our secrets, Jay. I trust you."
Jason had been quiet for a long moment, processing.
Jason (finally, gruff): "Fine. But we're not doing anything cheesy. No flash mobs, no public spectacles, none of that romantic comedy bullshit."
Dick (laughing): "Agreed."
They'd planned together; location, timing, contingencies. Jason had even offered to be nearby "just in case", which Dick suspected was code for "I'm too emotionally invested not to be there".
Jason (as Dick was leaving): "She's gonna say yes, you know."
Dick (turning back): "How do you know that?"
Jason (slight smile): "Because she looks at you the way Artemis looks at Wally. Like you're the only person in the world that matters. That's not something people fake."
[Three Days Ago - The Call With Wintergreen]
The call had come through encrypted channels, Wintergreen's dry British voice crackling over the secure line.
Wintergreen: "Heard through the grapevine you're planning something monumentally stupid and romantically saccharine."
Dick (laughing): "Slade told you?"
Wintergreen: "The bastard's been insufferable about it. Won't shut up about 'the kid’s finally growing a pair'. His words, not mine."
Dick: "I need advice. About the actual proposal. What to say."
Wintergreen (voice softening): "Say what's in your heart, lad. Don't overthink it. Zatanna doesn't need poetry or grand gestures. She needs just you. Honest, vulnerable, completely yours. Tell her why you love her. Why you want forever, and the rest will follow."
Dick (throat working): "Thanks, William."
Wintergreen: "Don't mention it. And Richard? Congratulations. She's a remarkable woman. You've chosen well."
[Two Days Ago - The Crock-West Residence - Palo Alto, California]
Artemis had opened the door, taken one look at Dick's face, and squealed.
She’d sent out her blabbermouth of a husband Wally out for errands.
Artemis (pulling him inside): "You're doing it! You're actually doing it!"
Dick (startled): "How did you—"
Artemis: "Jason told me. Which, by the way, rude. I'm her best friend, I should've been the first to know."
Dick (sitting on her couch): "I'm telling you now, and I need your help with something specific."
Artemis (sitting beside him, eager): "Anything. Anything!"
Dick: "I need you to be on standby tomorrow night. When she says yes—"
Artemis (interrupting): "When she says yes. Good. Continue."
Dick (smiling): "When she says yes, she's going to want to call you immediately. Be ready for that call."
Artemis (tears forming): "Dick. That's... I can do that. I’ll be thinking about what she'll need in that moment."
Dick: "She's going to want her best friend. I'm making sure she can have that."
Artemis had hugged him then, fierce and warm and sisterly.
Artemis (against his shoulder): "She's so lucky. You both are."
[Present Day - Their Apartment]
The memories faded as Zatanna's voice called from the living room.
Zatanna: "Dick? You almost ready? Our reservation's in thirty minutes."
Dick took a deep breath, pocketed the ring box, and opened the bedroom door.
Zatanna stood in the living room, and Dick's breath caught.
She wore a deep purple dress. Elegant, sophisticated, showing just enough skin to be devastating. Her hair was up, makeup subtle but perfect, and she was radiant.
Zatanna (seeing his expression, smiling): "Too much?"
Dick (moving to her, cupping her face): "Perfect. You're absolutely perfect."
Zatanna (rising on her toes to kiss him): "You clean up pretty nice yourself."
Dick wore a tailored suit, not the tactical gear or his old FBI covers, but something expensive, elegant, befitting “John Richardson taking his gorgeous girlfriend out to a fancy dinner”.
Zatanna (studying him): "You seem nervous. Everything okay?"
Dick (schooling his expression): "Just hungry. Ready to go?"
Zatanna: "Lead the way."
[Manhattan - Le Bernardin - 7:34 PM]
The restaurant was one of New York's finest. Michelin stars, wine lists that required expertise Dick didn't possess, the kind of place where "John and Anna Zane Richardson" could afford but "Dick and Zatanna" never would have considered.
Perfect for tonight.
They were seated at a corner table, somewhere private, intimate, with a view of the city lights.
Zatanna (looking around): "Dick. This place is expensive. Like, really expensive."
Dick (taking her hand): "And Slade pays me hundreds of thousands for every job done. Don’t worry about the bill, you're worth it. We're worth it, and it’s nice to celebrate every once in a while."
Zatanna (squeezing his fingers): "Celebrate what?"
Dick (meeting her eyes): "Us. Everything we've built. Everything we are."
The waiter appeared, took their orders, and left them in comfortable privacy.
Zatanna (studying him): "Okay, seriously. What's going on? You've been acting weird all week."
Dick (playing innocent): "I have no idea what you're talking about."
Zatanna: "Dick Grayson. I can read you like a book. Something's up."
Dick (slight smile): "Maybe I just wanted to take my girlfriend to a nice dinner. Is that a crime?"
Zatanna (suspicious but smiling): "No. But it's suspicious."
They talked through dinner, about Dick’s latest operations with Slade, about Khalid's training progress with Zatanna and the others, and the consultant arrangement with the League that was finally coming together. Normal conversation, comfortable, home.
But underneath, Dick's heart raced, the ring box burning a hole in his pocket.
After dessert, as coffee was served, Dick made his move.
Dick (standing, offering his hand): "Come with me. There's somewhere I want to show you."
Zatanna (taking his hand, curious): "Now? We just ate."
Dick (pulling her up): "Do you trust me?"
Zatanna (meeting his eyes): "Always."
[Zeta Tube Station - Greenwich Village - 8:47 PM]
The Zeta Tube station was tucked in an abandoned phone booth on an alleyway not far from their apartment, maintained by the League for emergencies and member transport.
Dick input their access codes and the system activated.
Computer: “Recognized. Renegade, B-0-1. Sorceress, 2-5.”
This piqued Zatanna’s interest, this was the first time in years that they used the Zeta Tubes.
Zatanna (as the golden light enveloped them): "Where are we going?"
Dick (grinning): "You'll see."
[Mount Justice - Exterior - 8:52 PM]
They materialized on the mountain's peak, above the concealed Team headquarters, under a clear Rhode Island night.
Stars scattered across the sky like diamonds. The ocean stretched below, moonlight painting silver paths across the water. The air was crisp, clean, perfect.
Zatanna (breath catching): "Dick. This is..."
Dick (leading her to a familiar outcropping): "Where we met. How long has it been, eight? Nine years ago? When your dad took you to meet the Team for the first time? You were nervous, and when I first saw you, I was nervous too."
Zatanna (laughing softly): "I was terrified. Meeting the Team, meeting all of you. Wondering if I'd measure up."
Dick (turning to face her): "You did more than measure up. You became essential to the Team and to the mission."
He paused, gathering courage.
Dick: "To me."
Zatanna (eyes widening): "Dick—"
Dick (continuing, needing to get it out): "Eight or nine years ago, I was still Robin. Batman's first protégé. Living up to impossible standards. Carrying weight I didn't know how to share."
He took her hands, holding tight.
Dick: "Then you joined the Team. And everything... changed. You were smart, powerful, funny, real. I was trying to be nonchalant about it but you told me to ‘be as chalant as I want’."
Zatanna (tears forming): "Dick, what are you—"
Dick (voice thick): "I fell in love with you slowly. Then all at once. The way you fight. The way you laugh. The way you see through my bullshit and call me out for it. The way you make me feel like I’m home with you."
He released one hand, reaching into his pocket.
Dick: "We've been through judgment. Exile. Building a life on our terms, and through all of it, you've been my constant. My partner. My everything."
The ring box emerged, and Zatanna's hands flew to her mouth, tears streaming.
Dick dropped to one knee, the Rhode Island night bearing witness.
Dick opened the box to reveal a ring, sapphire center stone surrounded by diamonds (courtesy of Alfred’s taste).
It was elegant, powerful, and perfect.
Dick (trying not to choke on his words): "Zatanna Zorina Zatara. You are the strongest, most brilliant, most beautiful woman I've ever known. You're my best friend, my partner, my home."
His voice cracked with emotion.
Dick: "I want to spend forever with you. Wake up beside you every morning. Fight beside you every night. Build a life that's ours; messy, complicated, perfect.”
He looked up at her, his blue eyes making contact with hers.
And then.
Dick: “Will you marry me?"
Silence.
Profound, infinite silence.
Zatanna stood there frozen, her mouth agape, her ears heard the words he said but even then, she was still processing all of it.
“Will you marry me?"
She stood frozen, tears streaming, hands over her mouth, staring at him like he'd just offered her the moon.
Dick (nerves rising): "Zee? I kinda need you to say something because I'm dying over here—"
Zatanna (voice breaking): "Yes! Yes, God, yes! Always yes!"
She dropped to her knees in front of him, framing his face with her hands, kissing him desperately with tears, laughter, love all tangled together.
When they finally broke apart, both crying and laughing, Dick slipped the ring onto her finger with trembling hands.
It fit perfectly.
Zatanna (staring at it, voice awed): "Dick… It's perfect."
Dick (also staring at her hand): "Sapphire. Blue for me. Purple for you. I wanted something that represented both of us… And Alfred was big help in helping me choose."
Zatanna (fresh tears): "I love it. I love you. So much. Forever."
Dick (pulling her close): "I love you too, forever. I promise."
They held each other on that mountaintop, two people who'd walked through fire and emerged stronger, now bound together by choice and love and promise.
Finally, Zatanna pulled back, wiping her eyes.
Zatanna (laughing): "I need to call Artemis. She's going to scream."
Dick (grinning): "She's waiting. I told her you'd call."
Zatanna (stunned): "You told her? Before proposing?"
Dick: "I wanted you to have your best friend ready. For this moment."
Zatanna (kissing him again): "Have I mentioned I love you?"
Dick (grinning like the idiot he was): "Not in the last thirty seconds, no."
Zatanna (laughing, pulling out her phone): "Give me five minutes. Then you're mine for the rest of the night."
Dick (standing, pulling her up): "Take your time. I'll be here."
Zatanna moved a short distance away, dialing with shaking hands.
Dick could hear Artemis's answering shriek even from here.
[Meanwhile - The Crock-West Residence - Palo Alto]
Artemis had been pacing for hours, phone clutched in her hand, Wally watching with amusement.
When it rang, she lunged.
Artemis (answering): "TELL ME EVERYTHING!"
Zatanna (laughing through tears): "He asked! He actually asked! Artemis, I'm engaged!"
Artemis (screaming): "FINALLY! Holy shit, Zee! I'm so happy for you! Tell me everything! How did he ask? Where are you? Can I see the ring?"
Their conversation devolved into excited squealing, Wally watching with a fond smile.
Wally (to himself): "Took him long enough."
[Back at Mount Justice - Dick's Call]
While Zatanna talked to Artemis, Dick made his own calls.
First? To Slade.
The line connected after two rings.
Slade (voice amused): "So. How'd it go?"
Dick (grinning): "She said yes."
Slade (rare genuine warmth): "Of course she did. Congratulations, kid. You've got yourself a hell of a woman."
Dick (throat tight): "Thanks, Slade. For everything, the advice, the support."
Slade: "Don't go getting sentimental on me, save that for Wintergreen."
Wintergreen (clearly listening in): "Already heard, lad. Congratulations. You chose well."
Dick (laughing): "Thanks, William."
Slade: "Now go celebrate with your fiancée. And Dick? Be happy. You've earned it."
The line went dead.
Second? Bruce.
Bruce answered immediately, like he'd been waiting.
Bruce: "Well?"
Dick: "She said yes."
Silence. Then something that sounded suspiciously like a suppressed sob.
Bruce (voice thick): "Dick. That's... I'm proud of you. Good work, chum."
Dick (also emotional): "Thanks, Bruce. That means a lot."
Alfred (clearly having taken the phone): "Master Dick. Congratulations. This calls for a celebration. I insist on hosting dinner this weekend with the entire Family."
Dick: "I’ll bring it up to her, Alfred. Thank you."
Jason (also on the line now, apparently): "About damn time, Goldie! And here I thought you’d pussy out."
Dick (laughing): "Thanks, Jay."
Jason: "Now go. Your girl's probably ready to murder you for taking so long."
[Afterwards]
Dick ended the call to find Zatanna watching him, their phones tucked away, with that look in her eyes.
Love, desire, promise, everything.
Zatanna (moving to him): "Done making calls?"
Dick (wrapping his arms around her waist): "You?"
Zatanna (rising on her toes): "Artemis cried, a lot. And so did I, again.”
Dick: "Good tears?"
Zatanna (kissing him softly): "The best tears."
They stood under the stars, two people who'd chosen each other over and over, now making it permanent.
Zatanna (finally): "Take me home?"
Dick (grinning): "To celebrate?"
Zatanna (pulling him toward the Zeta Tubes): "To celebrate. Extensively."
[Their Apartment - 10:34 PM]
They materialized in Greenwich Village, barely making it through the apartment door before they were on each other.
Desperate kisses, hands working on clothes, years of partnership and love and choice poured into every touch.
Dick carried her to the bedroom, Zatanna laughing, ring catching the light, both of them already half-undressed.
They fell into bed together, celebration and love and promise all tangled together.
Dick (moving over her, staring into her eyes): "My fiancée."
Zatanna (pulling him down): "My fiancé. Say it again."
Dick (kissing her deeply): "My fiancée. My future wife. Mine. Forever."
Zatanna (arching into him): "Forever. Always. Yours."
They made love with fierce intensity.
Not just physical release but emotional affirmation. Every touch a promise. Every kiss a vow.
Forever. Together. Home.
When they finally collapsed, exhausted and satisfied, Zatanna curled against Dick's chest, ring-hand resting over his heart.
Zatanna (voice sleepy but happy): "We're getting married."
Dick (fingers playing with her hair): "We are."
Zatanna: "We need to plan. Venue, date, guest list—"
Dick (kissing her forehead): "Tomorrow. Tonight we just celebrate."
Zatanna (smiling): "I like that plan."
Dick: "Giovanni's going to cry."
Zatanna (laughing): "He absolutely is. He's been waiting for this since we started dating."
Dick: "Everyone's been waiting for this."
Zatanna (lifting her head): "Were we that obvious?"
Dick (grinning): "Maybe? But I wanted to do it right. When we were ready. When the time was just right."
Zatanna: "And tonight was perfect?"
Dick (meeting her eyes): "Tonight was everything."
They kissed again, soft and sweet, celebrating not just the engagement but everything it represented.
Freedom, choice, partnership, forever.
Dick (finally): "Alfred wants to host a dinner with the Family this weekend."
Zatanna (rolling her eyes, but laughing): "Of course he does."
Dick: "We're going, right?"
Zatanna: "Absolutely. We can't deny Alfred his moment."
Zatanna (settling back against him): "It's going to be chaos."
Dick: "Probably. But good chaos. Our chaos."
Zatanna: "I like the sound of that."
They drifted toward sleep, two people who'd survived exile and judgment and impossible choices, now bound together by promise and love and the certainty of forever.
Dick (quietly): "Love you, future wife."
Zatanna (smiling against his chest): "Love you too, future husband."
Tomorrow they'd deal with planning, with Family, with the logistics of building a wedding.
But tonight?
Tonight they were just Dick and Zatanna.
Engaged.
Together.
Home.
[Current Status - Three Years Into Exile]
Major Developments:
- Dick proposed to Zatanna: Accepted
- Engagement: Official
- Family dinner: Scheduled for weekend
- Consultant arrangement: Nearly finalized
- Khalid's training: Ongoing, progressing well
- Giovanni's freedom: Approximately 4-6 weeks away
Personal Status:
- Dick Grayson: Engaged, happy, complete
- Zatanna Zatara: Engaged, radiant, joyful
- Relationship: Permanent
Conclusion: Sometimes the greatest victories aren't on battlefields. Sometimes they're on mountaintops, under stars, with the person you love saying yes to forever.
Dick and Zatanna have that now.
And honestly?
That's the best mission they've ever completed.
pinkgiraffe23 on Chapter 1 Mon 24 Nov 2025 05:16AM UTC
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pinkgiraffe23 on Chapter 2 Mon 24 Nov 2025 05:44AM UTC
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pinkgiraffe23 on Chapter 3 Mon 24 Nov 2025 05:52AM UTC
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pinkgiraffe23 on Chapter 4 Mon 24 Nov 2025 06:03AM UTC
Last Edited Mon 24 Nov 2025 06:04AM UTC
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MasterTheGreat on Chapter 4 Mon 24 Nov 2025 10:03AM UTC
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TheEyeInTheSky on Chapter 17 Tue 25 Nov 2025 09:25PM UTC
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