Dick did not know how long he had been running for. All he knew was that if he stopped, then they would catch him. Not that he really knew who they were either. He just knew that he needed to run.

From what Dick could tell, there had been multiple different them chasing him. First, there were the angry men dressed in black with the bright lights and shiny badges. They had yelled. They had yelled a lot, the noise beyond terrifying to the already traumatized boy.

When he had finally managed to get away from the ones who had chased him, Dick had no idea where he was. Everything was dark, too dark for him to be able to regain his bearings even if he did know where he was. Unfortunately for him, that was when his second pursuers gave chase, yelling words that he did not understand but knew better than to trust.

So, Dick had run again, bare feet slapping the pavement even as the heavy footfalls of the men chasing him echoed through the night. He only managed to escape by flipping up onto a rooftop where the men could not follow.

Exhausted both mentally and physically and with bleeding feet, Dick had curled up on the roof and fallen into a restless sleep. The next morning, he awoke shivering in pouring rain, his circus costume soaked through and torn in several places from his frantic running the night before.

His stomach grumbled, and so Dick descended from the rooftops in search of food, only to realize fairly quickly that the ground was not safe.

And so, he ran until he could once again make it to a rooftop, even if that meant enduring more of the torrential downpour. The rain continued into the night and into the next day, and by that point Dick was starting to feel rather ill. Cold, tired, and in pain, the boy knew that he needed to find better shelter, even if that meant braving the ground once more.

It would be easier to hide in the darkness, or so Dick had thought as he climbed down once more. He quickly realized that while he could hide in the darkness, so could they, and they knew this darkness better.

Dick ran until he was unable to run any further, his pursuers having disappeared in the maze of alleys behind him. Barely able to keep himself upright, Dick curled up on a semi comfortable pile of garbage bags, too tired to continue running. But, just as he had drifted off into the sweet oblivion of sleep, a rough hand had closed around his arm and harsh breathing had sounded in his ear.

And thus, Dick had found himself once again running, although this time he knew deep down that he would not get far. Each step hurt more and more, shards of broken glass and sharp stones digging into the soles of his feet as he stumbled around piles of garbage and other sleeping homeless.

Still, he kept running, kept pushing his body until his foot caught on an uneven piece of pavement and he went down, mouth opening to scream even as a hand slammed down over it, silencing him. He bit the hand, struggling frantically to get free, only to be rewarded with a harsh kick and then rough hands pulling him upward.

Through a haze of panicked tears, Dick saw that he was surrounded by a group of leering men, all watching him with hungry gazes that spoke only of pain. He whimpered when the grip on his arm tightened, harsh stubble grazing his ear as words were whispered to him. Words that he did not understand.

The men surrounding him laughed cruelly, eyes only growing more sinister as tears continued to trace down Dick's cheeks. He was scared, absolutely and utterly terrified as the men began to drag him away, holding onto him with bruising force. All Dick's struggles were useless as the men continued to pull him along with them.

However, just as he was about to give up hope entirely, Dick's frantically wandering eyes spotted a dark figure on a balcony above them, cape and bat mask marking him clearly as a hero. Even without television, Dick knew about heroes. His parents had always told him that heroes were there to help. This hero would save him. He had to.

Even as he continued to be dragged away, Dick's terrified and pleading eyes met the stony gaze of the hero, and, for a moment, his body relaxed in his captor's hold. The hero had seen him. He would save him. Because that's what heroes did, right?

Except the hero made no move to rescue him, simply turning away and disappearing into the darkness while Dick screamed out to him for help. He was thrown against a wall, body crumpling to the ground only to be grabbed and pinned against it, a rancid piece of cloth shoved into his mouth as a gag.

Rough hands tore at his clothing, ripping the costume that his mother had so carefully sew to shreds, cold biting at his exposed flesh as the sound of zippers being undone and pants lowering filled his ears. Panic tore through him, and Dick began to struggle harder, tears clouding his vision as more hands touched his body.

One of the men leaned in close, breath hot and putrid against Dick's face as he spread the boy's trembling legs apart, positioning himself in between, eyes dark and sadistic. The man let out an animalistic growl as his hips started to move upward and Dick tensed, trying to prepare himself for the pain.

Eyes squeezed shut, Dick did not see the sword that sliced neatly through the man's neck, completely severing his head. Even as the jeers of the men turned into panicked cries and more pleading tones, Dick kept his eyes squeezed shut, body trembling as he slipped to the ground and curled in on himself.

It was only when a surprisingly gentle hand touched his cheek that Dick risked cracking his eyes back open. The sight that greeted him was one that he would never forget. Blood was splattered across the walls of the alleyway, severed limbs and broken bodies lying in disorganized heaps on the ground, and, kneeling in front of him, was a man like no other that Dick had ever before seen, with long white hair and one missing eye, the other a piercing blue filled with so much concern that it was truly overwhelming.

The man's lips moved, and finally, finally, Dick heard words that he could understand.

"It's going to be okay. You're safe."

Dick was unsure what had happened after the man had spoken to him, the memory hazy as exhaustion and shock finally caught up with him. All he knew was that the next time he opened his eyes, he was laying in the softest, most comfortable, bed that he had ever had the fortune of sleeping on. He was warm, comfortable, and, most importantly, he was not on the streets.

But, the mere thought of his time wandering the alleyways of Gotham City brought his panic back in full force. He could practically feel the rough hands on his skin and ripping at his clothes.

Oh no.

He was in a bed.

Dick whimpered, jolting upright and ripping off the sheets. He was clothed again at least, although that only brought on more panic. Someone had clothed him in his sleep.

Someone had touched him.

He hit the floor with a thud, breaths coming in sharp, panicked, gasps as he scrambled back until he was pressed into a corner, eyes darting around the room wildly. Footsteps pounded in the hall and the door was yanked open and a rather disheveled looking white-haired man stepped into the room. Dick eyed him warily for a moment before the memories clicked into place.

This was the man who had killed his attackers.

The man spotted him on the floor and approached cautiously, one hand raised in what was clearly meant to be a placating gesture. Dick was not buying it. He flinched back, teeth sinking into his lower lip as he pulled his knees up to his chest in a feeble attempt to protect himself.

"It's okay." The man reassured, crouching down once he was only a few feet away from Dick. "I'm Slade. I'm not going to hurt you."

Dick blinked at him slowly, head moving in the faintest of nods.

Slade smiled softly. "Do you speak English?"

"Not good. Romani." Dick whispered, voice cracking slightly. Now that the panic was slightly dying down, he was realizing just how thirsty he was. And hungry. So very, very hungry. His stomach rumbled, and Dick looked away, curling in on himself tighter.

"Would you like food, little one?" Slade asked, the question making Dick jerk his head up as he stared at him with wide eyes.

Dick knew what he was saying. He was... he was speaking Dick's language. Dick sniffled softly. "Hungry." He agreed, fighting back the sudden urge to cry now that he knew that he could actually communicate with his rescuer.

"Is it okay if I pick you up?" Slade asked gently, gesturing toward Dick's feet, which the boy only now noticed were wrapped in bandages. "It would be for the best if you stay off them for a while. To heal."

Teeth sinking into his lower lip, Dick considered his options. He did not fully trust this man yet, but he had rescued him from the bad men. And his mother had always told him that heroes rescued people from being hurt. Therefore, this man had to be a hero, unlike the bat masked man who had ignored his plight. So, slowly, ever so slowly, Dick nodded, uncurling and letting Slade scoop him up into his arms.

Slade carried him carefully, like he was something precious and easily breakable, and Dick found himself relaxing in the other male's arms, eyes scanning the new surroundings as Slade brought him out of his room and through what appeared to be a living room until, finally, they ended up in the kitchen.

Dick was placed on a chair, and Slade stepped away, turning his back to him for a moment as he moved about the kitchen before returning to the table with a plate of scrambled eggs and toast.

"It's not much for now, because I want to see how your stomach handles it, but if you're still hungry afterward, you can have more." Slade told him, setting the plate down in front of Dick and handing him a knife and fork.

Dick did not need any prompting to eat, stomach still growling hungrily even as he set upon the food, shoveling it into his mouth while Slade chuckled softly and told him to slow down. He ignored him, fully intent on eating as much as he could as quickly as he could.

"Is this the boy?" An unfamiliar voice asked, startling Dick enough for him to drop his fork, the silverware clanking loudly against his plate before toppling to the ground. He whirled around, eyes widening as a strange man stepped into the kitchen, reaching toward Dick with what was probably meant to be a friendly smile.

All Dick could see was the leering grins of his assaulters. He whimpered, flinching back when the stranger moved in closer.

"Wintergreen, don–"

Whatever Slade was trying to say came too late. Dick had already launched himself off his chair and was under the table, eyes wide and breathing labored as he shrank away from the unfamiliar presence. Distantly, Dick was aware of the fact that his plate had fallen to the ground, ceramic shards and bits of scrambled egg littering the floor.

He could hear Slade curse, angry whispers sounding above him before Slade was suddenly kneeling down to look at Dick, expression hard and unreadable. He lifted his hand, and Dick flinched back, bracing his body for pain.

Instead of hitting him like Dick thought he would, Slade's hand stopped a solid foot away from Dick's body, a tiny dagger resting in his outstretched palm. Dick blinked at it, confusion furrowing his brows, quite the successful distraction from his frantic panicking.

"It's yours, little one. If you're ever scared, or worried someone will hurt you, I want you to stab them with it, okay? Even if it's me or Wintergreen." Slade gestured at the stranger who was hovering behind him in a clearly agitated state with his free hand. "Can you do that for me? It'll keep you safe."

Hesitantly, Dick nodded, reaching out a trembling hand to take the knife, fingers curling around the hilt as he brought it back in close to his body.

Slade smiled at him, gaze a mixture of both concern and gentle reassurance. "There you go. Now just remember. If you are ever scared of anything, that will protect you, alright? If anyone comes close to you or tries to touch you without your consent, stab them."

"O-okay." Dick clutched the dagger tight to his chest, finding comfort in the unfamiliar weight of the blade in his hand. He could protect himself. No one would hurt him again.

As the days went by, Dick grew more comfortable moving about the house, always clutching his knife in one hand or the other. His current favorite spot was the living room, where he could watch TV and learn new words to add to his English vocabulary. That, and the TV was distracting, keeping his thoughts away from his parents' deaths and what had happened the night Slade had found him.

Huddled under a blanket, little hand curled around the hilt of his knife, Dick watched the TV, blue eyes narrowed as a tall, dark-haired, man dressed in a fancy suit began to speak, one hand resting on the shoulder of a blue-eyed boy standing next to him. A blue-eyed boy who looked incredibly like he did.

Slowly, Dick stood, keeping the blanket clutched around his shoulders as he tiptoed out of the living room and into the kitchen where Slade and the other man, Wintergreen, were talking. His approach was timid and nervous, but Slade still smiled down at him when Dick grabbed the older male's hand, tugging him toward the living room.

Without a word, Slade followed.

The TV was still playing, although now it had zoomed in even further, focusing in on the boy at the man's side. Text at the bottom of the screen continued to display a running stream of words, although Dick could only understand two. Richard Grayson. His name.

Dick pointed at the words, shoulders hunching up under the blanket.

Fortunately for him, Slade seemed to understand. "You and Bruce Wayne's ward look awfully similar." He murmured, moving closer to the TV, eyes narrowing suspiciously before he turned to look back at Dick's cowering form. "Richard Grayson? Is that your name?"

Dick nodded. "D-Dick. Dick... Dick Grayson." His words were broken and heavily accented, voice rough from lack of use.

Slade smiled warmly down at him, petting Dick gently on the head. "Thankyou for telling me, Dick."

However, that was not what Dick wanted to tell him, or at least not all of it. "Don't... don't wanna be."

"You... you no longer wish to be called Dick Grayson?" Slade asked for confirmation, confusion clouding his features. "What would you like to be called?"

Dick shrugged. He did not know the answer to that question. He just knew that he did not want the same name as that boy standing with the man in the suit. He did not want a name to remind him of what had happened to his parents. He did not want to think about his past.

"Alright then... would you like me to help you with a name?"

Dick nodded, clutching the hilt of his knife just a little bit tighter as the TV focused back in on the man in the suit. He did not like that man.

Slade noticed his change in behavior, quickly reaching for the remote and turning off the TV, the gentle smile never once leaving his lips as he crouched down to Dick's level. "How would you feel about the name Renegade, little one?"

Dick blinked at him owlishly. "Regad?" He asked, brows furrowing at the clear mispronunciation of the word. "Rengad... Renade..." He scrunched up his nose, shaking his head. "Hard."

"Right, of course. How about Ren for short?" Slade asked, tone tinged with mirth, his eyes holding so much warmth and comfort that Dick felt the urge to cry.

"Ren." Dick... no. Ren nodded, lips quirking upward into the faintest of smiles as he let go of the knife for the first time since Slade had given it to him, launching himself into Slade's arms.

Slade stiffened for just a moment before his arms moved to wrap around Ren, cradling the small boy to his chest as hot tears soaked into his shirt.

And, in that moment, Slade knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that no matter what happened, he would protect this little boy with his life. Because, right then and there, the little boy had become his life.

It was not hard for Slade to deduce the fact that his little boy was some kind of clone, or at the very least had clones out there. The mere presence of Richard Grayson, ward of Bruce Wayne was enough to assume that much. With a little more digging, Slade had found others too, not that they really mattered to him.

No, what mattered to him was that his boy was happy and safe and had all that he could ever think to ask for. The child deserved that much after what he had been through, something which Ren's nearly nightly nightmares prevented him from ever forgetting; not that he would have without them, but they certainly made him all that more furious.

"It's okay, Ren. I've got you." Slade said gently, fingers carding through the boy's hair as Ren struggled for air, body trembling and eyes wild with old fear. "You're safe. They're gone. No one will ever hurt you again." The words were both a reassurance and a promise. Slade would kill anyone who even so much as thought of hurting his precious child.

"Th-they... they fell." Ren whispered, taking in a shuddering breath as he squeezed his eyes shut, clearly fighting back tears.

Slade tutted softly, tugging the boy into his embrace. "It's okay to cry, little one. Just let it out. You'll feel better if you cry."

And so, cry Ren did, sobs wracking his body as Slade whispered soothing words and did his best to offer comfort. Nightmares about Ren's parents' deaths were rare. Or at least rarer than those of the traumatic incident that happened days after. They also were easier to help with, not that Slade really minded being there for Ren when he was clearly so distressed. It hurt to see the child so afflicted, to know that such horrible things had happened to such a young and innocent kid. If Slade could in good conscience wipe the boy's memories of his bad memories, he most certainly would, but he knew better, and so he resigned himself to comforting the crying child.

As Ren slowly cried himself back to sleep, Slade began absently rubbing circles between his shoulder blades with his free hand, knowing all too well that despite his reasonable fear of unfamiliar touch, Ren was a cuddler, something Slade had discovered after a particularly bad nightmare fairly early on when nothing seemed to help calm him down and he'd eventually resorted to just... hugging the boy. The hug had worked miracles.

"Thankyou, dad." Ren whispered, curling further into Slade's side.

For his part, Slade had frozen at Ren's words, hand stilling on the child's back for a brief moment before he continued the movement, eye gazing down at the sleeping face of his son with pure adoration. "Of course, my child." He murmured, voice equally as soft.

If his enemies were to see him now, they would be very surprised, if not horrified, at how soft the mercenary had become. Not like he cared though; his priorities had shifted.

Ren came first, simple as that.

"I want to learn how to fight like you." Ren said, looking across the table at Slade who was trying not to choke on his coffee.

Wintergreen smirked, offering the mercenary a napkin. "Honestly, Slade. You shouldn't act so surprised. You gave the boy a knife on his first day here."

Slade coughed, taking the napkin with a glare before he focused his attention onto his son. "Are you sure that's something you want to do? You don't have to, you know. What I do is dangerous. I kill people, Ren. I don't want you to start training and then feel like you need to follow in my footsteps."

"You're the one who said I need to be able to defend myself, right? That's why you gave me this." Ren lifted the knife from his pocket, the blade never once having left his side in the months that he had been living with Slade. "You can't give me a knife and then not show me how to use it. At least show me how to use it."

"He's got a point." Wintergreen added in, earning a grin from Ren. After the initial shock of his appearance had worn off all those months ago, Ren had quickly discovered how much he liked the older male, especially after Wintergreen instituted Disney movie nights every Wednesday and let him eat as much junk food as he wanted while watching.

Slade groaned. "I should never have introduced you two. Fine, fine. If you think it's something you want to learn, I do think it would be a good idea to teach you. Just the basics to start though."

Ren grinned. "Sure. The basics."

As they continued breakfast in comfortable silence, Ren and Wintergreen exchanged knowing smirks. There was no way Slade was just going to stick to the basics, especially not if Ren pushed the matter. After all, Slade never was able to say no to Ren's big blue puppy dog eyes.

They were right, of course. Two years later, and Ren had officially become the apprentice of Deathstroke the Terminator, going by his full name of Renegade.

"Dad? I'm bored." Ren complained, draping himself over his father's shoulders, piercing blue eyes focusing in on the older man's computer screen. "Oooh. You got a job?"

Slade snorted, reaching up to absently pat the boy on the head. "Hi bored, I'm dad. This one's going to be pretty easy. Just a simple mob boss assassination. You wouldn't be interested."

Ren pouted. "That's what you said about the last one. And the one before that. And the one before that. And the one before that."

"Okay, okay. I get it. You want to go on a mission. I just..." Slade sighed, turning away from the computer to meet his son's pouty expression with a raised eyebrow. "You know why I don't want you going on these. Batman has been asking around about you. I'm worried that they've figured out who you are, or at the very least that they have suspicious."

"I get that, but you can't keep me locked away forever... it's not fair." Ren sighed, crossing his arms over his chest. "Besides... you said you'd never let them take me, right? I... even if Robin is the original, that doesn't mean they have any rights to me."

Slade frowned, standing and wrapping a reassuring arm around Ren's shoulders. "Of course, I'm not going to let them take you. I just don't want them confirming that you are indeed who they think you are. After the health problems that have been noted in Robin, I highly doubt if they'd leave us alone to live our lives. I don't want you caught up in that mess."

Ren leaned into his father's embrace, letting out another tired sigh. "I don't get how they even found out about me and not the others. The others are so much more obvious."

"Yes, well... Batman and I keep heavy surveillance on eachother. And you do have a tendency to be a bit too showy when fighting."

"But the others live in Gotham. That's supposed to be his city, right? This is so dumb. Batman is so dumb." Dumb was one of the milder words that Ren had called the bat hero since discovering that he was the one who Ren had seen that fateful night. Nothing could excuse that horrible excuse for a hero's actions.

"Yes, well, that is established." Slade said wryly, fighting the urge to engage in a Batman bashing with Ren. Usually, they saved those for over Sunday dinner. Nothing quite like dissing Gotham's Dark Knight over some homemade pizza.

Ren huffed, still not ready to give up on the mission quite yet. "What if I'm extra careful and just hang out as backup? I just want to punch someone. Maybe shoot them a few times. Would it be so horrible for me to get out of the house and shoot someone? I'll actually listen to you this time."

"That last sentence does not reassure me." Slade grumbled, narrowing his eyes at Ren. "If I leave you, you'll just sneak out of the house again, won't you?"

"Maaaaybe."

"Fine. You can come. But you're staying in the shadows and if anything seems remotely off, you're going to leave. Even if things seem fine and I tell you to leave, you will, got it?" Slade pulled away from Ren, making sure that the teen met his gaze. "If you so much as think of not listening, I will revoke Disney movie night for a month."

Ren gasped in outrage. "You can't do that. That's punishing Wintergreen too. Wintergreen has done nothing to you."

Slade simply shrugged. "My house, my rules."

"Sure, sure. Whatever." Ren stuck his tongue out at his dad. "When do we leave?"

"Brat." Slade scoffed, lightly smacking Ren upside the head. "After dinner. Go tell Wintergreen, would you? I need to make sure all the ammo is stocked."

"Sure thing, dad."

Hours later, Ren was starting to regret insisting on going with his dad.

He had stuck to the shadows like Slade had instructed, waiting on a nearby rooftop as Slade took out his target. It was a boring job, just watching for any possible incoming threats, but still, Ren was determined to his best.

So, determined in fact that he failed to notice the group of heroes sneaking up on him until one of the idiots tripped over his trip wire and hit the ground with a hard thump. Ren whirled around, eyes narrowing behind his mask as he was met with the sight of four dark figures.

"Bats." Ren whispered under his breath, finger grazing over the com in his ear. A muffled curse was all he heard before the line went dead; enough for him to know Slade was on his way. "You do know sneaking up on people isn't nice, right?" He asked the heroes, tone full of as much cocky bravado that he could muster.

Nightwing shrugged. "Your master is off murdering someone as we speak. That can hardly be considered nice."

Ren fought the urge to snort. Master. Yeah, right. These heroes really were idiots. Instead, he just shrugged. "Dude's a mob boss. Probably killed enough people to make offing him no big deal. Sneaking up on an innocent civilian on the other hand... well that's just mean. What if I got scared and accidentally fell off the roof?"

"You're Deathstroke's apprentice. Hardly a civilian."

"Well in that case..." Ren smirked, unsheathing his sword in one smooth motion as he lunged at the nearest hero, Red Hood.

"Come on, kid. We know you're a clone of Dick Grayson. We're trying to help." Red Hood snapped at him, barely managing to dodge Ren's sword swipe.

"My name is Renegade. I don't want anything to do with you." Ren fired back, eyes narrowing behind his mask as he focused on remaining calm and collected. He could not panic. It did not matter if now he was certain that they knew who, what, he was. He needed to focus on getting away. He needed to get to Slade.

Where was Slade?

The others were on him now, dark caped figures all but surrounding him. They were all there, all except Robin. Ren could not help but be thankful that the other version of himself would not be getting in the way. He would feel guilty if he was forced to try and kill himself, especially since he knew the other clones would suffer if the original was hurt badly enough.

"Put the sword down, Dick." Batman ordered, tone hard and cold, cold enough to send chills racing down Ren's spine as he backed toward the corner of the rooftop.

"Renegade. My name is Renegade." Ren insisted, looking anywhere but at the hero's masked face. The face which he had seen so long ago, the face which had turned away as he was dragged off to be brutalized. "If you come any closer, I will throw myself off this roof."

Red Robin snorted softly. "Look, we don't want to hurt you, really, we don't. But I'm sure you've figured out by now that you can't die. That fall would just hurt you, but you'd survive. Just come with us, Dick... Renegade. We can help you."

Ren took another step back, panic rising in his chest before he spotted a flash of orange out the corner of his eye. His shoulders relaxed, a small smile quirking at the corners of his lips. "I don't need your help. Now, dad, if you're done scouting out the situation, let's take down these bastards and get the hell outta here."

"I was hoping you'd be able to take at least one down on your own." Slade commented, stepping out from the shadows behind Batman, guns at the ready. "But I guess I should thank you for leaving me some of the fun."

"No problem."

A shocked gasp sounded from behind Red Hood's helmet. "Oh, fuck no. Dad? You called him dad? Bats, he's been brainwashed."

"Noted. We'll have to work on that once we bring him in." Batman agreed, turning his attention onto Deathstroke. "Slade Wilson. Relinquish the clone."

"The clone, as you so kindly put it, is my son. I am not about to hand my child over to the likes of you." Slade lifted his gun. "Move away. Now."

The standoff exploded into action as Batman lunged in for the attack, dodging Slade's bullets only to be met by the mercenary's sword, the blade glinting in the dim light as Slade blocked and parried Batman's attacks.

As for the others, they focused in on Ren, and he was more than happy to oblige them with a fight, blade deflecting Red Hood's bullets as he sprang through the air. While he was certainly putting effort into fighting off the others, his main focus was getting to his father's side.

Because Slade would keep them from taking him. Slade had promised to protect him and keep him safe.

Ren was almost there too when a hand closed around his wrist, and Ren cried out, fear pulsing through him at the unwanted touch. He lashed out, panic overwhelming his senses as he struggled against the hold, the unrelenting grip only serving to

"Hey, it's okay. We're not trying to hurt you." Red Robin tried to reassure, only earning a hateful glare from Ren as he struggled harder, Red Robin's masked face blurring as it was replaced with shadows and a leering smile.

They were going to take him.

He could not breathe properly.

Slade.

He needed Slade.

And then, Slade was there, yanking him away from the hero's grasp and pulling him into his chest. "Shh... it's okay. I've got you." He murmured softly, too softly for any of the so-called heroes to hear as Slade backed them both away, gun held in his free hand and pointing dangerously at anyone who so much dared to step closer.

"Hand him over, Slade." Batman demanded, voice harsh as he moved to attack once more, making Ren shrink closer into Slade. His father would not let them take him, right? Slade would protect him.

Slade always protected him.

Nightwing, who had been silent and oddly inactive in the fight thus far, placed a hand on Batman's shoulder, pulling him back. "Father. Let them go. We took the wrong approach here. This needs to be dealt with more delicately."

"Fucking hell. No. He's brainwashed the kid. He's brainwashed Dick." Red Hood protested, aiming his gun at Ren, who was gripping onto Deathstroke tightly, face pinched and breaths heavy. An expert flick of the wrist was all it took for the gun to go flying across the rooftop. "What the fuck, Red Robin?"

"Nightwing's right. We're doing this wrong." Red Robin said, clear concern in his tone as he glanced over at Ren. "I'm sorry, Ren."

Ren did his best to glare back, despite the fact that it was growing increasingly hard to breathe.

They were going to take him away from Slade.

They were going to force him to be Dick Grayson again.

Dick Grayson had been weak; pathetic and helpless against the horrors of the world. Ren was strong now. It had taken him years to reach the point he was now. He could not... he would not go back to the pathetic creature that he had once been.

"We're leaving. Batman, expect me to contact you later." Slade growled out, one hand moving in soothing circles against Ren's arm as he pulled them both back into the shadows and they disappeared back into the night.

They barely made it to Slade's nearest hideout, a small apartment above an ice cream shop before Ren's panic escalated into a full meltdown.

Dick Grayson.

The words echoed in Ren's head, despite how far away they had gotten. He felt like crying, panic rising in his chest as he clung onto Slade, refusing to let the other male go. Because... he knew all too well what the heroes knowing his name meant. It meant that they knew he was a clone.

They knew.

They were going to take him away.

"Dad..." Ren gasped out, voice breaking as his throat swelled with the need to cry, small tremors running through his body as he looked up at his father, once happy and vibrant eyes broken and dull.

Slade murmured a soft curse, quickly pulling Ren in closer, strong arms enveloping him as the tears started to fall. "Shhh... it's okay. You're safe, alright? I'm not letting anyone near you unless you agree to that. They won't take you away."

"B-but they know. They... they're going to... they're going to take me away a-and... and I'll never see you again, and..." Ren shook his head, curling in closer to his dad as Slade began to gently pet his head, the touch soothing and reassuring.

"No one is going to take you, little one. I'll figure this out. If Wayne won't listen to reason, then we can just leave. We'll move countries and go off the grid. I've done it before."

"But your work..."

"I'm an assassin, kiddo. I can find work everywhere. And even if I can't, there's plenty of money stocked up. Enough to last for lifetimes if necessary."

Ren found himself relaxing ever so slightly at Slade's reassurances. Slade was not going to give him up. "Thanks, dad... I... I love you..."

Slade chuckled. "Love you too, little menace. Now let's get out of all this gear, yeah? We can go down and get some ice cream."

"Mint chocolate chip?" Ren asked, voice still wobbly and timid.

"Of course."

To say that Slade was unhappy would be a major understatement. No, he was furious. Beyond furious even. Stupid Batman and his minions had scared his kid. The kid that Slade had spent so long working with to get to open up. The kid that Slade would do anything to get a happy smile from.

Batman had made his son cry.

And thus, Slade had the very, very strong urge to murder the hero.

Unfortunately for him, rather than murdering Batman, he instead was meeting up with Bruce Wayne, both men dressed in normal civilian clothing with hats and sunglasses to further conceal their identities. After all, Bruce Wayne was very well known.

Slade glowered at him from across the small diner table, arms crossed over his chest. "You attacked my son."

"He's a clone of my son, and mine is not doing well. He needs to reabsorb his clones, otherwise he's going to have serious problems." Bruce grumbled, seemingly just as displeased with their meeting as Slade was.

"Do I look like I care about what happens to yours? Mine stays with me."

"Yours is sustained by mine's energy. What do you think is going to happen if mine runs out of energy and can't sustain them anymore? Yours might actually die."

Slade huffed, pulling off his sunglasses to better glower at the hero. "I'm not about to just give you Ren. From what I've seen, your Grayson does not seem capable of using his powers. If Ren merges with him, he might be lost forever."

"He won't be lost forever. From what we've seen with the other discovered clone, they can reform, memories and personality intact."

Leaning forward, Slade steepled his fingers together. "Tell me about the other one."

Bruce sighed. "He was at the circus. According to what Dick can make sense of his memories, he was with them since the parents' deaths. Kid goes by John. Merging with him was an accident on a mission. He stayed gone until Dick just woke up morning and the clone was hanging from his chandelier and swinging around like a crazy person."

Slade snickered, noting exactly how tired Bruce looked. "I'm guessing John's a bit of a handful?"

"More than a bit. Alfred keeps on having to pull him down from the ceiling. The kid also likes climbing on people." Bruce grumbled, shoulders slumping in defeat. "Look, I wouldn't be trying to take your one if I didn't have serious concerns about what will happen if they stay separated. Dick's been doing badly for nearly a year now, and while finding John seems to have helped a bit, he still isn't doing great. If you want your clone to continue living, I'd strongly recommend letting the reconnection happen."

"If I didn't know better, I'd say that was a threat, Wayne." Slade responded coldly, eye narrowing suspiciously. "I'm not going to force Ren to go with you. The kid doesn't feel comfortable around most people, and I highly doubt he'll agree to go anywhere near you, but I will discuss with him your concerns. I do not want my son to suffer because yours is weak. He's already had to deal with randomly getting the flu thanks to yours."

Bruce blinked, confusion clouding his features. "Wait... three months ago? He got symptoms?"

Slade frowned. "Yes, he got symptoms. It took weeks for him to get better again, thanks to your ineptitude as a parent. Also, two years ago when Joker nearly killed yours. I did not appreciate that in the slightest."

"That was hardly my fault." Bruce protested, earning a derisive snort from Slade.

"Whatever, Wayne. I would not trust you with my son in a million years. But, like I said, I will let him know. Although I seriously doubt if he'd agree to it. He hates you."

"What? Why would he hate me? He doesn't know me. Our first run in was the other day."

Slade rolled his eye. "Of course, you'd forget. He saw you as a child. You failed to rescue him. Things could have gone very badly if I had not gotten there in time. Maybe I should thank you for that though... it gave me great satisfaction to kill his attackers."

Bruce frowned, confusion written clearly across his face. "I really don't know what you're talking about. Are you sure he saw me?"

"Yes, I'm sure. The boy had more than enough nightmares about it." Slade scoffed, repositioning his sunglasses on his face as he stood. "If he does agree to this, I will only warn you this once. You hurt my Ren, and you are dead. You cannot run. You cannot hide. I will hunt you down, and I will snuff out your pathetic life once and for all."

With those final words, Slade stormed out of the diner, leaving a baffled and confused Bruce Wayne behind him.

He needed to talk with his son.

Ren was waiting for Slade when he got back, piercing blue eyes staring forlornly at the door. His lips barely formed a smile when his dad stepped through and into the house.

"He had something logical to say, didn't he? I... I'm going to have to do it? You're... you're giving me away?"

Slade cursed, removing his boots and entering the living room, taking a seat next to Ren on the couch and wrapping an arm around the boy's shoulders. "No. I would never give you away. Never. But he did unfortunately make sense."

Ren sighed, nodding. "Tell me."

And so, Slade did, telling Ren about the other clone who had been found and had merged with the original, along with the concerns over the original's health and how that could affect Ren.

He stayed silent, letting all this new information sink in. It really did not seem like there was much of a choice, not if he wanted to continue living.

"If... If I do this... will I be able to see you?" Ren asked softly, searching his father's face for answers.

Slade tugged him in closer. "Of course, you'll be able to see me. I'm not about to let you go off with those idiots without some kind of insurance plan to make sure they don't treat you poorly. You are hardly a possession to be traded and bargained with. You're my son. If you agree to do this, I will work up an agreement with Wayne. You will have final say on it of course, and if he does not agree, then we will leave. Simple as that."

Slowly, Ren nodded. "Right... okay. I-I... I want you to write up the agreement. If... if that's okay."

"Anything to keep you safe and healthy." Slade murmured, fingers carding through Ren's hair. "Enough of that for now... shall we watch a movie?"

"Okay... a movie sounds good." Ren whispered, leaning into Slade's comforting touch. "Thanks dad... for... for everything."

Slade nodded. "Like I said. I would do anything for you, kiddo. You know that."

Lips forming the faintest of smiles, Ren nodded. "I know."

They had agreed to meet in one of Slade's Gotham City safe houses, a fairly neutral space for both boys.

Still, Ren could not help but feel incredibly uncomfortable as he watched his lookalike from across the room, never once having left Slade's side since he had agreed to this horrible idea.

Was it too late to back out now?

Just by the looks on his lookalike's family's faces, Ren knew that it was,

There would be no backing out.

"Hi... um... Ren. I'm Dick." The other him spoke up, after what was probably ten minutes of awkward silence, clearly nervous about the whole situation.

Ren leaned closer to Slade, eyeing the other boy with equal nervousness. "Hi. Let's just... let's just get this over with." He mumbled, turning to give Slade one last, tight, hug.

"At least weekly visits. And as soon as yours is stabilized, he comes back with me?" Slade asked quickly, eye meeting Bruce's from across the room, keeping Ren in the hug as he confirmed one final time the conditions of this agreement.

Bruce nodded. "Yes. Weekly visits, and you can take him back once things are settled."

Slade sighed, letting go of Ren. "I'm proud of you, little one. You'll be okay." He murmured, soft enough that the others would be unable to hear. Ren gave him a watery smile.

Struggling to fight back tears, Ren slowly reached stepped forward, his movement met by Dick's as both boys outstretched their arms. His fingertips brushed against Dick's before a strange tugging sensation overwhelmed Ren and his body disappeared.

Dick gasped at the flood of emotions that had come with the merger, sinking to his knees as he clutched at his head, struggling to make sense of all the new memories, all the new feelings.

There was so much pain.

So much hurt.

Dick shivered, realizing distantly that he was sobbing, body shaking with the tears. A hand reached down, touching his shoulder, and Dick flinched away.

No.

Touch was not good.

Why was touch not good?

Pain. Fear.

Looking up through eyes clouded with tears, Dick stumbled to his feet, tottering the few steps that it took to reach Slade. And then the mercenary was there, strong arms wrapping around Dick's trembling body as he held him gently.

"There, there, little one. It's okay. You're safe. I've got you." Slade murmured, hand petting him gently on the head as Dick burrowed his face into his chest, tears soaking into Slade's shirt.

Even as he found comfort in the mercenary's embrace, Dick could not help but feel confused. Why was he hugging Slade? This man was a killer. A murderer.

Why was he so comforting?