Forgotten Bonds

Thirty-Five - Letters

March 8th, 2009. Sunday, 12:08 pm. 

Slade held the envelope in his hand. A small, yet truly genuine smile was spreading through his face. For a moment, it seemed completely unreal, a dream, a fantasy; but there it was – the approval for the adoption. Dick was officially his son – his son and no one else's. It was a lot to take in, there was no doubt about that. Slade hadn't ever imagined that he'd go all this way with the boy. Slade had only thought of making the boy his apprentice, his heir; but never had he thought that the boy would become his son. 

His son... 

So many years had passed since Slade could confidently say he had a son. 

But it was so strange saying that the boy was his son now. After so many years of not really being a father, now he was again. Was this something he had wanted during these years? Something he had missed? There was something special about the unconditional affections of a loving child – Slade had once had three, so he was all too aware of such unconditional love; even when sometimes there was a deep, nagging feeling inside that ate at his self conscious, telling him he didn't deserve such things. 

But there was something so special inside Dick's heart that told Slade that he too would be no different in his feelings of affection than Slade's first children. 

Memories of the past could be so painful. 

Slade could still remember the joyful pride that had always risen inside his chest as he entered their home at nights so many years ago. The traditional, "Daddy's home!" would be literally screamed by little Rose, who would then dash up to Slade and cling to his legs gleefully. Much of the time, she'd set herself on top of his shoes so that he'd have to walk into the house with her. Joey was always close behind her; his bright green eyes sparkling happily, but too shy and bashful to join in the hugging fest – no matter how desperately he wanted to do so. Grant would always saunter in last, seeming to ooze the aura, "I'm too cool to rush up to Dad even though I'm just as excited to see him." 

And then... 

It all shattered. 

Those innocent times had been completely destroyed. It had been all his fault, too. Those happy, cheerful voices would never ring their innocent sounds in Slade's ears. They were lost; their potential completely dashed away into a thousand shards; shattered pieces that could never be restored. 

Such beauty wasted. 

Slade had failed so badly the first time around that he couldn't stop the brief feeling of total terror that rippled through his heart at that moment; completely unsettling him. The burden was far more heavy than he had realized it would be. How could a simple piece of paper completely change everything? How could he fear that he would fail again? He was Deathstroke; failure never occurred to him – of course, how wrong that thinking was. After all, Deathstroke had done nothing but fail when it came to his family. Deathstroke might be a perfect assassin, but he wasn't perfectly all powerful in the universe – he wasn't a god, obviously; immortal or not. No matter the enhancements he had, he wasn't omnipotent. 

What of Slade, then? Would he fail with his newfound second chance? 

Would he fail Dick? 

But Slade tried to push such feelings back. He wouldn't fail; he wouldn't allow it. Especially since Wintergreen would probably say that he was already doing a good job at fathering the boy – if you wanted to call it that – and if he wasn't, the old man would, no doubt, voice his opinions good and strong over it. He had done so before, after all.