A/N: Just a quick warning for some blood and violence. Nothing major, but just a reminder that this is a T rated story. If you have a queasy stomach, tread with caution, though I think you'll be fine.
....
Time and location unknown
The sound of chopper blades echoed overhead. Bright lights pierced through his semi-closed eyelids as everything was a blur. He could see two vague outlines of people hovering over him, but who they were, he didn't know, only that one of them was wearing black and orange. Those colors seemed important to him for some reason, but he couldn't remember why...
1° 13′ 20.14″ N, 103° 51′ 19.3″ E
02:00 SST (Singapore Standard Time)
December 1st
Colonel Mark O'Dell had seen many things over the course of his years in the service, even more so since he left the army to work under Deathstroke as a caretaker for the Island. And as a member of the mercenary's former regiment, he was one of the few surviving men who knew him as Slade Wilson.
But one thing the old colonel hadn't planned on was seeing his former comrade and current boss flying into the Island's airspace so soon after his last visit, especially at two in the morning. Slade only stopped here once every couple of years, usually when forced by Wintergreen to take a vacation or as a convenient pit stop after completing the circuit of inspecting his other bases. So seeing the familiar chopper coming in after only a week since their last visit was a bit off-putting, if not down right concerning.
Mark quickly ordered his men to stand down and prep the landing pad for their leader's surprise arrival before racing there himself. Granted, as a soldier in his late sixties, he was a good deal behind the younger men. What he wouldn't give for Slade's immortal body. If they weren't friends, and if he didn't know the curse that came with such a blessing, he would have been envious.
By the time he reached the pad, the chopper had landed and Wintergreen was exiting it followed quickly by Slade, who was fully garbed in his Deathstroke uniform and was carrying a child that looked more like a corpse. Mark held up a hand to shield his eyes from the blasts of wind as the helicopter blades started to slow down.
"Orders, sir?" he yelled.
"Prepare my personal medbay! He's going to need it!"
Mark nodded and started barking orders as he issued his men back to the compound in a state of urgency. Slade's personal medbay had never been needed to such an extent, but it had everything the mercenary could possibly want or need to do with the limp boy in his arms.
No words were exchanged as they ran into the compound and navigated through the twisting, bland corridors until they reached the medbay. Medical personnel were stationed everywhere, booting up the machinery and prepping anything and everything that could be needed. None of them knew the condition of the boy, so they had to be ready for anything. The staff didn't flinch when Slade stormed into the bay; they just turned and helped strap the stranger he had brought on to the medical table and began hooking all kinds of machinery to the boy.
"Anything we should know?" the head doctor asked.
"It will be like nothing you have ever seen," he replied with a sense of foreboding, "Tell me, have you ever seen a Changing Talon?"
....
He couldn't seem to think straight. There was so much noise and movement, and that wasn't even including the seething pain he felt in every muscle of his body. Something was wrong, so very very wrong. He flexed his hands and felt his fingers scrape against a hard, metallic surface. He tried to move, but he was hindered by restraints. Where was he? What was going on?! Why couldn't he open his eyes?!
He felt trapped, caged, and that only made him struggle harder against his bonds. The rhythmic beeping that had once been background noise started piercing his ears. Several pairs of hands held him down, pushing against his flailing limbs. He wanted to scream and cry and just get FREE!
....
"What's happening?!" one of the nurses exclaimed as everyone in the room struggled to hold down the spazzing teen. Even Slade himself helped, holding the boy's shoulders down to restrict his movement. The others in the room were surprised by their boss's involvement. It was clear this boy meant something to mercenary, and that made them all the more desperate to make sure he survived.
An echoing screech escaped the boy's lips, piercing their ears. The cry didn't sound natural. The teen's fingers dug into the metal operating table, and the staffs' eyes widened at the finger-sized impressions left in the surface. Robin grit his teeth and slammed his head back against the table as his muscles tensed and jerked without his permission.
"His vitals are off the charts. It will be a miracle if he makes it," the head doctor said. He seemed to be one of the only ones that was managing to keep a professional air about him besides Slade himself.
"He'll make it," Slade replied certainly, "There's a reason they call him the Boy Wonder."
The mercenary turned his gaze back on the teen subconsciously struggling, whether it be against the Change or his bonds he didn't know. Slade only knew the basics. He and John Grayson hadn't been in touch in well over twenty years, and he doubted he would be able to get ahold of the renegade Talon if he tried.
Another pained screech echoed through the medical bay, and Slade's eyebrows furrowed. He refused to admit he was worried, but he had never seen Robin in such distress. It was a drastic change from the stoic apprentice he once was. Robin was never one to show pain, so the obvious lack of physical restraint was something unheard of to the assassin.
Yet, he knew that this was a part of the process. Slade unhooked his mask and discarded it haphazardly before he reached over and removed Robin's. He had to see exactly what was going on in order to make sure the boy would make it, and the masks they wore would only hinder that. He knew the teen would hate him for it, but it wasn't like they were on the best of terms anyway.
Robin's back arched in pain as tears strayed down his ashen cheeks. His body was under too much stress, and it took more force to hold him down than Slade had had to use in a long time.
"Stay with us, Robin. Show them what you're made of," he whispered to the boy, "Prove to them how strong you really are."
.....
"Stay with us, Robin," a strong voice called to him, overriding the sharp beeping and garbled jargon of the others. He knew this voice, but he couldn't remember who it belonged to or where he had heard it. But he latched on to that familiarity with a metaphorical death grip.
He could hear, and he could feel. But for some reason, he just couldn't find the strength to open his eyes. But if he could, then he would see who the voice belonged to. He needed to know where he was, and to do that meant opening his eyes.
The weight of his eyelids was too heavy though, and all he wanted to do was sleep. Maybe then the fire coursing through his veins would go away? It would be worth it if it meant no more pain. The beeping was slowing down, but the voices became louder.
"No, Robin!" the voice cried loudly in his ear, "Don't you dare give up! Fight, boy! I know you can! Wake up!"
"Slade," another, calmer voice spoke up, "yelling at the child isn't going to help him. We are doing everything we can, but in the end, it all depends on if his body can take the stress."
"Try harder," the voice, Slade, growled, "If he doesn't make it, then neither will you."
This Slade person really wanted him to wake up, and he couldn't just let the other voice die because he was tired. But he just couldn't find the strength to open his eyes. He wanted to sleep so badly. He grit his teeth. No. He had to wake up, even if it was just for a little bit. Let the voices rest easy, then he could go to sleep. So with all of his might, he forced his eyes to crack open.
.....
Robin's body had stilled, though his muscles remained tense and ready. Slade kept his hands on his shoulders just in case, and that was when he saw the boy's eyes just barely peek open before widening completely.
He knew he shouldn't have been surprised seeing as the teen was a Talon, but Slade had never seen eyes that were as bright as liquid gold. And that only begged the question of what his real eye color must look like. If Robin was anything similar to John, that meant the gold would fade once his Talon side was subdued.
He watched as the boy visually soaked in every contour of his face with both curiosity and confusion. He looked extremely out of it, though Slade never would have guessed that there would be a day Robin wouldn't recognize his mortal enemy.
"Robin," Slade spoke carefully, and the boy tilted his head. Did he understand anything that was going on?
"I...'wake," he choked before closing his eyes, "Slade...rest now."
"No, Robin, I need you to stay awake."
The teen's face scrunched up, and a whine left his lips. His entire body rattled as he coughed, and blood trickled out of the corner of his mouth as his body stilled. That could not be a good sign.
"His body is failing him," the head doctor stated urgently, and Slade backed away to let them work. Then Robin's heart monitor flatlined, and the room lit up in a frenzy. They began compressions.
No, Slade thought as one of the nurses pulled out a defibrillator, Robin is too strong. He can make it. I refuse to believe otherwise.
But the teen's already pale skin was turning white, and gold eyes stared ahead unseeing. He, of all people, knew what death looked like. He just never expected to see it on this child's face. Robin had always been able to beat the odds before, and he expected no less this time. The doctors were trying—had tried—everything they could. The head doctor lifted his head to meet Slade's gaze with a solemn shake of his head.
"No," Slade grounded out and unsheathed one of the knives on his person. The others backed away quickly as the mercenary advanced towards the boy. Slade pressed the knife into his opposite palm and slit his hand before pressing the open wound over Robin's mouth. If the boy wasn't strong enough to handle the Change on his own, then maybe some of the serum that made Slade what he was would push him over that edge.
Seconds ticked by, and the assassin pulled back. Maybe he was wrong. Maybe it just wasn't enough. Slade brushed the ebony bangs out of the boy's golden eyes and sighed deeply. Robin had had so much potential; it almost felt sinful to see it wasted. But as he removed his hand, there was a flash of movement and the sound of metal snapping. A pale hand grasped the mercenary's wrist in an iron grip, and everyone froze.
A shocked pale blue eye met a pair of frightened gold eyes. And at that moment, the boy had never looked so young. Without a second thought, the one-eyed man removed the rest of the boy's restraints.
"Slade?" he asked weakly, limbs still trembling slightly. He didn't seem to be in complete control of his body yet, but at least a little color had returned to his skin.
"It's okay, Robin," he said slowly, "You're going to be okay now."
One of the doctors moved to assist the teen, and Robin snapped his gaze to the stranger. Golden eyes narrowed, and he vanished from the table in flash of movement. There was a shout of fear and pain as Robin slammed into the doctor and forced him against a wall, teeth bared and a hand at the man's throat. Those golden eyes looked murderous.
"Sl-ade," the man choked and pounded an arm against the wall as he struggled against the boy's tightening grip, "Slade!"
"Robin! Let him go!" Slade ordered, and Robin promptly obeyed. He still sent a sneer at the man scrambling to get away.
"People...friends of Slade?"
"Yes," the mercenary nodded, trying to understand what was going on with the lad.
"Slade safe?" he asked, and the assassin once again nodded, mentally preparing himself should the boy strike at one of the personnel. Slade safe? he thought. Robin thought they were a threat, not to himself, but to him.
Robin nodded and gripped his head, sinking to his knees, "Head...hurt," he groaned.
"Don't try to fight it," Slade commanded, "That will only make it worse."
Robin acted like he was trying to say something when he fell unconscious. Slade knelt beside him; none of the doctors wanted to touch him with a ten foot poll, so it was up to him to check his vitals.
"He's stable, finally. Hopefully when he wakes up, he will have more sense."
"Who is he?"
"What is he?"
"He was once Robin the Boy Wonder," Slade answered, "Now, he is a Talon."
"That boy is Batman's sidekick?"
"Was," Slade clarified, "He's been on his own for some time now. We will discuss the details later, right now, we need to get him somewhere stable."
"He can tear through anything we have here."
These next few hours would be critical, Slade knew. They had to keep Robin somewhere where he couldn't hurt himself as his system finished adjusting to the Change.
"You make a valid point. Prepare the recovery room," he ordered and scooped the unconscious boy into his arms. A few of the staff quickly scurried out of the room, while the others stood awaiting their commands. Slade narrowed his eye at them, "The rest of you, clean this up and get back to bed."
With that said, Slade strode out of the medbay with the Talon secured in his grip and made his way to the recovery room. The nurses had already finished and vacated the room, so he simply set the boy down on the hospital bed and pulled the sheets over him. Hopefully, by the time he woke up, Robin would be in a better state of mind. But until then, Slade made himself comfortable in a nearby chair. He was immortal. His staff was not.
06:25 SST
The door to the recovery room opened, and Slade looked up to meet Wintergreen.
"Still watching over that boy?"
"I have the feeling he would kill anyone else," he retorted, "and I'd rather not lose anyone tonight."
Will's eyes widened marginally before he schooled his features and took in the appearance of his friend. Both the man and the teen were maskless, and Slade looked to be in deep thought.
"What's on your mind?"
"When he woke up earlier, Robin was...different."
"Obviously," the butler snorted. Slade rolled his eye.
"Behaviorally," he added, "He didn't recognize me and was speaking in broken English. He almost killed Sergeant Horace because he thought he was going to attack me. Dare I say it, the boy was acting protective."
Wintergreen chuckled deeply. He couldn't help it. And Slade's incredulous expression made the situation all the more hilarious.
"What's so funny?"
"You recall what was said about Talons, how they sometimes have more animalistic behavior on occasion?"
"Yes, but I don't see how that had anything to do with Robin's behavior."
"And here I thought you were smart," Will laughed, "That's exactly why Robin was acting the way he was. Many newborn animals imprint on the first thing they see. He turns Talon for the first time, is practically a newborn to the world, and what is the first thing he sees?"
"Me. Will, you can't be serious! There's no way Robin would ever...bond with me of all people!"
Will huffed and crossed his arms, "Do you have a better explanation for it? Face it, Slade, you wanted that child as your apprentice. Well guess what, he's now your responsibility. He may come back to senses eventually, but his Talon side will always gravitate to you, maybe without him even knowing it."
Slade shook his head and ran a hand over his goatee, "Perfect," he grounded sarcastically.
Will tried and failed to hide another chuckle, "He's like a baby chick when you think about it."
"I don't want to think about it."
"Did you ever notice how young he is? He's looks like a starved child! Is the kitchen stocked? I'm going to get some breakfast started."
Slade shook his head as his best friend rambled about fattening the boy up and complained about him being nothing but skin and bones as he walked out. But when he turned his attention back to the boy, he was met with a pair of wide electric blue eyes gawking back at him. A pair of eyes that recognized him.
"Slade!"
....
A/N: Just do y'all know, this is NOT a slash fic. But I do love a good deathdad story, so maybe there will be some parental bonding to come. *shrugs* I'm not sure yet.
Thank you for reading and don't forget to leave a review!