As per usual, I see I took forever to update again, but if it's any consolation, I wrote this chapter, as well as another chapter in a half on one flight. So, I should hopefully have those two chapters out to you soon. I have the majority of the rest of the story planned as well. Enjoy!

Cheshire bit her lip as she looked at the video footage again. It hadn't been hard to get at all, thanks to the crappy security of the police station. She felt a churning feeling in her stomach as she watched Dick get shot multiple times. He wouldn't die; Deathstroke would do something to save him. After all, the Light wouldn't want to lose such an asset.

Cheshire clenched her fists as she realized that Dick's presence there was Deathstroke's doing to begin with. Renegade wasn't ready for that kind of mission. There's no way the asshole actually thought he could handle it. It was a trap; just a way to show off his prize to the League. Jade hated it. It reminded her too much of her father.

She sighed, shutting her laptop. Every time she watched him get shot, she felt sick. It wasn't right. Jade wanted to see Dick again. She wanted to hug him, and help him recover correctly, not under the hands of a ruthless 'master'. Maybe… Maybe her mother was right.

Cheshire shook her head. It wasn't her place. It was against her orders. The Light made a decision, and she had to deal with that. The only way she would see Dick again would be if she came up with an argument reasonable enough to change their minds. That could never happen. Or could it?

Deathstroke punched his desk in frustration. This kid was stupid. Useless. A simple mission. All he had to do was kill a guy. How hard was that? Yes, Depoulet was dead, but now it was known that Deathstroke was involved in his murder. At least to some extent. Slade had shot out the cameras as soon as he got there, but hadn't hacked in to delete the footage before the police got ahold of it.

The Light had asked him to leave it there. That was part of their deal. Renegade was his to train and control, but the Light wanted the Justice League to see it. It would crush their morale, and anything damaging to the League would be advantageous. In his opinion though, it was flat out embarrassing. Renegade had gone in expertly, but zoned out as soon as he pulled the trigger. He knew the League would notice and call the Light out on their inability to break him in. Then, Deathstroke had had to jump in and actually rescue the boy like some damsel in distress.

Slade had taken him back to base and dropped him on a table in the med bay. He would've just left the brat there, but the kid looked pale as a ghost, probably on the brink of dying, so he'd grudgingly walked to the cabinet and grabbed a vial of a reddish-brown liquid. It was a sample of the healing factor laced into his blood. After what had happened in his past, he'd extracted some of the serum and kept it on hand. Just in case.

He stabbed his apprentice in the chest with a syringe and injected him with the serum. Renegade would get a lesson on taking care of the rest of his wounds whenever he woke up and Slade was nowhere to be found, but the bullets would get stuck inside him, so he quickly but precisely removed the bullets before storming out of the room.

Batman blinked to clear his eyes as the blinding light from the zeta tube faded. They had been off-world for the last week taking care of some business on Mars for J'onn. He had vehemently opposed going, but the league had been especially insistent that he go. Clark and some of the others believed he needed a break from Gotham. They'd combed the entire city, but there had been no sign of Dick, and his frustration had been mounting. After three petty thieves in a row ended up in a full body cast, the Justice League had put their foots down and sent him away.

As soon as they finished materializing, Bruce started towards the control room to check for any news on his son. However, he was intercepted by Barry zipping up to him.

"Hey B-man. How'd the mission go?"

Bruce didn't care to respond and kept walking. Barry frowned and trotted ahead to cut him off again.

"Uh, Bruce. The med-bay is that way," Barry pointed the way that Bruce had just come. The bat merely raised his eyebrows. He knew what the man was referring to, but he couldn't care less about the cuts and blaster burns that speckled his body.

"I'm fine," Batman tried to push past the speedster, but the Flash wouldn't move out of the way. Barry poorly acted as if he was just stumbling over himself and 'accidentally' getting in the way. Bruce narrowed his eyes, looking the man over. Something was off about him. Barry looked nervous about something. Batman put a hand on his shoulder and could feel the man faintly vibrating.

"What happened?" Batman demanded. Barry tried to respond that he didn't know what the man meant, but a fierce bat-glare shut him up. This time the Flash let the Bat pass and go to the computer desk where Superman was on watch duty. Superman heard him approach and stood up, changing the tab on the monitor. Batman just glared at him and pushed Superman out of the way. They were hiding something from him. His eyes narrowed as he pulled up the latest news feeds and clicked on the top story: Unknown Assailant and Deathstroke Murder Eric Depoulet!

"Bruce, I'm sorry. We were trying to wait until we were sure," Clark said, backing away from the computer. He knew the vigilante wanted his space. Batman sat down at the desk, typing furiously on the keyboard. It took him a matter of minutes to hack into the police department's files.

The video came up. The cameras were definitely outdated, and the definition was low, but Bruce wasn't stupid. He'd spent years training Dick. He'd recognize his silhouette anywhere. It was his son.

"Bruce," Barry started. Batman stood up from the chair, walking a few feet away just to punch a hole in the wall. Those monsters! It didn't matter if he was being manipulated or not; Dick wouldn't be able to forgive himself when they got him back. Superman put a hand on the Flash's shoulder, silently telling him to let it go as Batman stormed out of the room.

Dick shot up, but instantly regretted his decision as pain radiated through his torso. He clenched his eyes shut, running a hand through his hair. His fingers felt something crusty. He scratched his head lightly to get some of it under his nails before looking at his hand. He felt like he might be sick; It was crusted blood.

Renegade swung his legs to the side of the table. He massaged his sore thigh, sighing in relief when he saw that the bullet was gone. His leg didn't want to seem to hold any weight, so Dick used the counters in the room for support as he hobbled to the sink. He put head under the faucet, rinsing the blood from his hair.

He grabbed some paper towels to wipe his head dry when he finished. Dick prodded his head with his fingers, but didn't find any cuts. Okay then, it must've just been Depoulet's blood from- oh god. Memories from the night before came rushing back. Dick slumped to the ground, wrapping his arms around his knees.

He felt horrible as the realization sunk in. Even if Depoulet had done some things wrong, his brain flickered to what Bruce told him:

Batman and Robin sat quietly in the med bay of the batcave as Alfred patched Dick up, and Bruce was tending to his own cuts. They'd just gotten home from another fight with the Joker. He'd set off a bomb of Joker gas in the town square before his goons opened fire. By the time they got there, already a dozen people were dead. Suddenly, the 11-year-old piped up.

"Bruce, wouldn't it be worth it to kill him?" He asked quietly. He knew Batman never even let him entertain the idea, but the Joker just kept on killing people. Bruce froze, glancing at his protege.

"No," Batman said firmly.

"But we'd be preventing civilians from dying if we killed him."

"No," Batman repeated. "It makes you just as bad as any other criminal. If you break your morals even once, there won't be any stopping it. You'll continue to do it." Robin just frowned, looking at his feet.

He was a murderer. The man had kids, one of whom was the same age he had been when he lost his parents. Not to mention, Depoulet's wife had died a few uears ago He just orphaned three kids. Three. That made him even worse than Zucco. Dick hugged himself closer, burying his head in his arms.

Dick remembered more now . It was just snippets, but he could recall some of his pre-teens. He remembered being on patrol with Batman. He remembered hanging out with Barbara in class. He even remembered meeting Superman for the first time.

He wasn't sure how he was doing. He hadn't even had to dream to remember this time. Something still felt odd though. There was nothing about Cheshire. She must have come later. Renegade shook his head slightly. He couldn't worry about that now. He rested for another minute before getting up.

Bruce had taught him well, even if it was for nefarious purposes. He needed to stay focused until he was away from Deathstroke. He rummaged through the cabinet, finding hydrogen peroxide and some bandages. Renegade sat back down on the table and cleaned the places where the bullets had hit him. They were healing suspiciously fast, but it would still help to make sure they stayed uninfected.

Dick went back to the cabinet, rummaging through it until he found some medicine to help with the pain. He swallowed the pills dry before laying back down on the table. If he slept more, maybe he could remember more.

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