Work Text:
They couldn’t do it. That much was obvious. Slade Wilson had been watching one member or another of the Batclan for nearly two decades and the fact of the matter was, they didn’t have the heart to do it. Hell, for the first time in his life, Deathstroke the Terminator wondered if he had it. Briefly, very briefly, he’d grown attached.
Like Bruce Wayne, he’d denied all the signs and ignored the odd behaviors. He attributed them to the very obviously injured mind of a recovering survivor, but now… Now there was no other choice than to recognize what they all saw.
After the death toll of his most recent “prank”… Slade sighed as he watched them all argue and shout at one another. They weren’t aware of his presence. Even if they weren’t distracted by their grief, fear, confusion, or shock; Slade Wilson was just that good at hiding what Jason had once referred to as his “ginormous ass”.
“New Arkham won’t do him any good even if they could hold him!” Barbara Gordon said.
The smallest Robin, Damian Wayne, spoke up next. “There isn’t a prison on this planet that can hold him either.”
“We aren’t discussing this!” Dick Grayson shouted. “We’re not. We don’t kill bad guys, we certainly won’t kill him.”
Tim Drake sighed and whispered. “No on is suggesting that we do, Dick. However,” he looked down at the youngest. “We are asking what you would suggest.”
The old butler was watching them all with glassy eyes. Slade figured he wanted to leave, but he’d met the old Brit a few times. Reminded Slade of Billy Wintergreen… That guy never backed out of a difficult discussion or decision, either. Wintergreen stood by Slade’s side to the very end. He wondered if it was because they’d come from the fighting elite?
Only one person was missing. Well, two if you counted the one that they had to figure out what do with. The brothers couldn’t come to a point. Even with the butler and Batgirl, they’d flounder and regurgitate the same arguments without getting any closer to a solution.
He left the manor carefully and made his way to the rooftop. There was the man he’d been seeking. Jason Todd was hugging his knees as he leaned up against a chimney. His eyes were closed and his face was soft and boyish in a way that it rarely ever was when Jason was awake.
“They can’t do it,” Jason whispered, keeping his eyes closed. “They don’t have the stomach.”
“Too much or not enough heart,” Slade agreed as he moved to sit beside the kid. “Think you do?”
“Nope,” Jason shook his head and finally opened his bloodshot eyes. “I’ve tried already, Slade. Tried three different times and I couldn’t do it.”
That wasn’t what Slade wanted to hear. If there was anyone he thought he could rely on to take care of the matter of the Batclan, all his money would have been on Jason Todd. But was this admission of failure the kid’s way of giving Slade permission to do what no one else in the clan could do?
“You’re sure Bruce won’t do it himself?” Slade asked. He had to give Batman a chance to take care of his own problem before stepping in.
“Positive,” Jason chuckled and there was a strain to his laughter. Like it wanted to bloom and grow to express how mad and infuriated Jason was. “It’s gotta be soon though, Slade. If not, I doubt even you could do it.”
“There hasn’t been a job I couldn’t finish, Brat,” Slade snorted.
“Whatever you, say, Slade,” Jason got to his feet, and Slade couldn’t help but eye the thick thighs or the way they moved. It was always Slade’s favorite feature of Jason’s. “Bruce is likely hiding somewhere out in Gotham… Now’s as good a time as any I guess.”
Slade swallowed hard at the kid’s words and got back to his feet.
This was it. They were really going to do it.
“You gonna pay me for it?”
“Is that the only way you’ll be able to do it?” Jason asked.
“No. I’ll do it either way, Kid,” Slade promised as he took a step closer.
“I don’t want…” Jason’s voice cracked before he could get his fourth word out and before Slade could pull the young man into his arms. “Make it unexpected… I don’t… I can’t.”
There it was. The emotion. The true fear and despair peeking past the hard-ass. He was still so young and yet to look at Jason side by side with his brothers, Slade wouldn’t have guessed it. Jason was the most battle hardened, the most tortured, and the most dangerous. Or at least, from Slade’s perspective that was the case.
He didn’t hesitate as he pulled Jason into a warm, familiar embrace.
“I’d ask you to make it painless, but I don’t care about that. Not after all the pain and hurt—”
“You want it quick,” Slade clarified. “Doesn’t matter how, just as long as it’s not drawn out.”
Jason’s shoulders lost all tension as he nodded.
“Go get some sleep, Jason,” Slade ordered.
At his command, Jason looked up at Slade with something bordering on fear and definitely in the realm of confusion. Slade looked out toward Gotham, and knew as soon as Jason’s eyes widened, the kid understood. He nodded and then turned to leave, but Slade couldn’t let him go on such an abysmal note.
“Jason, I’m proud of you,” Slade didn’t know why those were the words that came out of his mouth, but now that they were out, they felt right. “No one else was willing to make this decision.”
The twenty-something-year-old nodded ruefully. “Someone had to and I couldn’t leave it to them. By the time they’re done bickering it will all be over, only they won’t have the guilt on their shoulders.”
Slade frowned. He hated how much Jason put on his own damned shoulders. It didn’t seem fair that it always came down to him making the impossible choices and decisions. Fuck Bruce Wayne and Batman for not being man enough to bite the bullet.
It was good that Slade was angry. While most jobs didn’t require any emotion from him, this burning disappointment and hatred was going to be fuel in the belly while he faced Batman. And for once, Slade wouldn’t push aside the emotions running through him.
He stepped to the edge of the roof beside Jason and before the younger could leap down, grabbed him roughly by his jacket collar and kissed him. Kissed his soulmate with everything Slade had, to make sure Jason knew how loved and cherished he was, even if Slade actions were about to make it impossible for them to be together.
“Don’t draw it out, please,” Jason whispered as he pulled back. “No one in this family could take it and we certainly don’t deserve it.”
“I think there are about fifteen people that would argue otherwise, Jason,” Slade reminded and felt twinge of guilt when he saw Jason flinch. “Go get some rest. It’ll be taken care of by morning, Jason. I promise.”
When Slade approached Batman, the man was staring down at the place his parents had been killed. He would have felt bad for Bruce Wayne had it been in his nature to do so, but Slade was and always had been a self-centered and unfeeling bastard. It was why what he was about to do wouldn’t really effect him long term.
“I know why you’re here,” Batman said.
“Fifteen dead, Batman,” Slade growled. “Fifteen dead and not one of them fucking deserved it! How could you let it get this far? How could you allow this to happen?”
Not one answer came from the Bat in black, but Slade did pick up on the change in body language. The way the shoulders tightened and yet shuddered. Was the Batman laughing or crying? It was impossible to tell while Bruce continued to give Slade his back. It wasn’t as though Slade could just step up to him either.
Doing so would trigger the long awaited, long overdue fight.
“How long have you known?” Batman growled. “How long have you known and done nothing to stop it! To warn us of what was happening?”
“It ain’t my job to take care of you or your birds, Wayne,” Slade snarled. “You should have done something!”
Finally the Batman turned to face Slade. It was… shocking to say the least. In Bruce Wayne’s right hand was a gun. Not just any gun either. It was the same snub-nosed model that had killed Thomas and Martha Wayne. Was… Was Batman going to commit suicide? Had the Robins all gotten it so very wrong?
“What is this, Bruce? You’ve spent your entire life crying about how the Batman doesn’t kill and now, what, you’re going to take your own life?” Slade spat.
Batman shook his head. “You can’t possibly understand, Slade. How could you? You’re business is death and destruction. I’ve always tried to save lives, always tried to create.”
“Fifteen dead, Bruce!”
“I know!” Batman shouted and then started laughing… Hysterically. “You can’t possibly imagine what I see every time I look at him!”
“This isn’t his fault, Bruce!”
“Oh but it’s mine?” Bruce stopped laughing and held out the gun, offering it to Slade. “The gun was for… I thought it would be him who came to see me.”
Slade’s eyes widened as he took the weapon. “You thought you could?”
“I thought I owed it to him to try,” Batman whispered. “A weapon just liked this killed me once before, but it didn’t take. I figured if he showed up, I could make sure it took the second time around.”
Slade frowned, unsure of his next action.
“Did Jason choose you?” Bruce asked.
“He did,” Slade nodded. “I promised him this would all be over by morning.”
Silence filled the air, thick with tension from Slade and disbelief from Bruce. The Batman shook his head as his fists tightened. He was becoming agitated quickly and some part of Slade understood why. It wasn’t like Slade to avoid a job and he’d promised the kid he wouldn’t drag it out, yet… That’s exactly what he was doing, wasn’t it?
The hypocrisy irritated Slade, and yet there he stood, just staring at Batman.
Bruce’s blue eyes appeared as the white lenses in his mask opened. “You… you can’t do it, either? Can you?”
Slade would have blushed or paled if he didn’t have perfect control over himself. So instead of reacting, he blinked calmly and shook his head. “No, Bruce, I can do it, and I will.”
“This doesn’t seem quick to me,” Batman growled. “This seems cruel.”
It did bother Slade that he was technically breaking his promise. He should have just killed him immediately. No long discussions, no soft whispers. Just pulled his sword and decapitate him. That would have been quick. It would have been mostly painless, too. But the truth was, even if the kid didn’t it want it drawn out, Slade also knew Jason hadn’t wanted it to be merciful either.
Jason felt there was some punishment owed. It’s why he stipulated fast, not painless.
“You gonna stand down or we gonna fight about it?” Slade sighed.
It was time to get on with it.
Batman moved into a defensive stance. “Well, I’m not just going to lie down and watch you do it, if that’s what you’re asking.”
Slade slipped into the apartment and noted the explosives lying around the kitchen. It was stacked without caution or care and that alone told Slade the toll that had been taken on Jason as he struggled to come to the decision on how to move forward. He walked down the hallway marred with green and purple graffiti tagging and headed straight into the bedroom.
Jason was sitting on his bed, shirtless. It was quite a sight. Jason’s powerful musculature covered in faded and new scars. Most were from a crowbar and those were the most faded. The recent ones, they were knife or bullet wounds. One was from a branding iron during a fight with Joker. The very fight that Jason had killed Joker in.
“Did you kill him?” Jason asked with wide, frightened eyes.
There was a lot of blood on Slade’s armor.
“Head wounds tend to bleed more.”
“That’s not what I asked,” Jason scowled. “Did you kill him?”
Slade took a deep breath and closed his eye. “No,” he said softly. “No, I didn’t.”
Jason shivered and got to his feet, Slade’s eyes falling to the waist band of his tactical pants. The guns were missing from their holsters, but that didn’t mean they were out of reach. The kid’s muscles were tight and he looked ready to attack.
“Tonight’s not exactly going to plan is it?” Slade said.
Jason grinned and shook his head. “I was so sure you’d kill, Bruce. Sure that he’d force you to do it. Either that or maybe he’d kill himself. He doesn’t handle grief well you know.”
Slade watched carefully as Jason approached him. “I gave you a chance to escape, Jason. To not be here when I arrived, but you’re still here.”
The smile never left Jason’s face. “You think that means something, don’t you?” The young man taunted, keeping his hands in Slade’s view. “That deep down I know what I’ve done and that I want you to end it. To stop me from becoming my own worst nightmare.”
Slade glared. “What are you gonna do, Jason? Start wearing purple and dye your hair green?”
Jason laughed. “Nah, Babe. Green isn’t really my color.”
With a speed and strength that Slade hadn’t expected, Jason tackled him to the ground. He blocked several strikes to the face and wished for just a moment he’d had his mask on. Hell, for that matter, Slade wished Jason had his red helmet on.
Slade didn’t want to see the kid’s face contorted with rage and insanity when he killed him. He certainly didn’t want to see if Jason came back to himself, either. All around he was in a lose-lose situation being able to see Jason’s expressions.
The fight spilled into the hallway as Jason attacked him, laughing or giggling with insanity all the while, but this was exactly as Slade had planned. He kept moving them backward until they were in the kitchen and had a lot more space to maneuver in. Slade pulled his sword from his back and swung it furiously.
Obscene laughter filled the air as Slade stare into Jason’s face, his sword shoved straight through Jason’s belly.
“Trick,” Jason laughed. “Or treat?”
Slade glared. “What?”
“Pick.” Jason gritted his teeth for a moment, his bare hands holding onto the blade that had fully impaled him.
Slade sneered. “I didn’t play games with the clown, I won’t play games with you.”
“Consider it the last honest request I make of you, Soulmate,” Jason grinned, blood coating his teeth.
His heart clenched at the words and he saw something honest within Jason’s bloodshot teal blue eyes. They were filled with tears, but Slade couldn’t possibly guess as to whether or not the tears were a physical response or an emotional one. He didn’t want to play games with Jason, didn’t want to remember him this way, and yet, Slade couldn’t deny him a final request.
“Treat,” Slade growled.
Jason smiled even brighter as several tears ran down either side of his face. “Good,” Jason coughed as blood splatter from his lips. “Good choice.”
Slade held the sword firmly and wasn’t sure what he expected, but it certainly wasn’t for Jason to rush forward deeper onto the sword and kiss him. But that’s what the kid did, and the copper taste of blood danced along Slade’s tongue as Jason kept them together by holding the back of Slade’s head with his sticky, crimson hand.
Some morbid part of him wanted to know what Trick would have been, but Jason finally pulled them apart, his skin pale and his body moving sluggishly backward. There was pain etched in his grimacing lips and squinting eyes. Slade pulled the sword back, allowing Jason to drop to the ground as blood rushed out of his wounds.
He stood and watched as Jason groaned and then tried to laugh. “Fifteen…” Jason grunted. “Fifteen that… that you know of…” He laughed again before the awful death rattle shook his body, expelling more blood from his mouth.
The front door crashed open as Robin, Red Robin, and Nightwing burst into the apartment. Batman was already there. He was standing in the hallway and had come in from Jason’s bedroom. They all four stared in shock and horror at the lifeless body.
Without saying a word to any of them, Slade sheathed his sword and left. He’d never find himself in Gotham on Halloween ever again.