Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

This is why he doesn’t have lunch with Slade. The man only glared at him and when he tried to make small talk he would throw something at him.

Oliver would never admit to retaliating by cursing him in seven different languages. He didn’t do that, it was certainly not him.

Slade had raised an eyebrow at Oliver and said he had a lot of gall to throw curse words at him when he had taught him one of those languages.

Oliver had just ignored him.

It reminded Oliver of the island. Not that he would ever say such thing to Slade’s face.

A portal had opened under them and spit them out here. Now they were here, and Oliver was getting interrogated. 

Oh! And did he mention he looked the same age he was on the island? 

He had long hair now and all of his scars and muscles had went away. He was reduced to a skinny nineteen year old. If Oliver wasn’t getting interrogated right now he would punch Slade. 

This was obviously Slade’s fault.

Yeah. Just his fucking luck. God, maybe Barry's bad luck was rubbing off on him. 

He snapped back to reality when the man growled. “What is your name?” The man was dressed in a bat costume and that wasn't intimidating to Oliver.

He had seen worse and far more intimidating people who weren’t dressed like a nerd.

“Can I speak to my brother?” He asked, tapping his finger against the table in boredom. The man’s intimidating tactics obviously didn’t work unless he was in the dark. Maybe the man thought himself to be the boogeyman. Oliver didn’t know nor did he care.

That lie was more believable then, This is my former non-related brother who tried to kill me but hey, I shot him so we're even. 

The man's face flickered at the speck of information given. “You can see your brother after you answer my questions.” 

Ok, two can play this game. The man was so annoying. Do this, do that.

“What is your name?” The man crossed his arms, expecting an answer this time. 

Oliver looked him in the eyes and said “Jonas.” His middle name, not exactly a lie.

The man grunted. “You continue to cooperate and you might see your brother.”

Slade was being interrogated by a different version of Superman. 

Oliver was in a different room. Slade was younger. That means so is Oliver. Wow, what knowledge he had on this situation!

“Listen, answer the questions, and the faster I can let you go free.” Superman seemed exasperated. Maybe because Slade had already dislocated his thumb two times to try and get out of his cuffs. 

Slade just smiled. “I'm sure that you will.” 

Superman sighed. “I have no reason to lie. I’m not the one in handcuffs.” Slade clicked his tongue.

“You could have a million reasons to lie. I personally don’t care for those reasons, however I did try to get out of the handcuffs, so let that be noted.”

Superman looked about ready to leave. Then the door opened. 

Oliver was in the room now. Followed by a bat-looking guy. Oliver looked just like he did on the island, except his eyes weren't the same. They looked more haunted.

Even as he smiled when he saw Slade, Slade saw the look he shot him. It was his ‘You fuck this up and I will make you a pin cushion later’ look. 

The Batman turned to Superman and whispered something to him. Superman nodded and he and the man left the room. 

Oliver sat down in the chair. The kid had all of his awkward teenager-ness back. It was odd, looking at the man, kid who he had seen grow, back to the start.

“This is your fault.” Were the first words out of his mouth.

Slade wanted to stab him. The kid always blamed him. It could rain and Oliver would swear Slade had bribed the sky to rain that day.

“Mine? Oh please if anything it’s yours. Let’s get lunch, he says.” Slade scoffed. 

Trying to reconcile with Oliver was a mistake and now they were here.

Oliver glared at him. “I was attempting to communicate with you, but you’re so old . So you don’t know how to do that.” Oh wow, calling Slade old. 

Slade kicked his leg. “One, I am not old. You little shit, two since when do you want to talk to me? You would rather talk to your girlfriend, Diggle or any other one of your annoying friends.”

Oliver just looked at him, they were giving the people a bit too much but Slade didn't care. They weren't his friends. 

Oliver kicked his foot under the metal table. “That's because they can actually make conversation instead of grunting like a caveman!” 

Slade moved his foot away from him. “Oh please. You say that but then turn away and be edgy. Mr. I don't need help.” 

Oliver looked offended at that, “I never said that.” He had quieted down, good he was being a bit rowdy. 

“Yes, you have. I have seen you in one of your episodes.” Oliver in those episodes was the worst. He got on Slade’s nerves.

Whatever happened to that loud party boy, he feels that Oliver would have been easier to deal with then.

Oliver flipped him off. “I hope you trip and break your nose.” Ouch, So mean. 

Slade looked at him. That one was risky. Did he really mean to say that? Maybe they were a bit younger mentally too. 

Slade recollected himself. “You don't mean that, I'm your favorite brother.”

Slade was trying to sell that annoying older brother act, it wasn’t that hard to do.

“You're my only brother. If I had any others I wouldn't speak to you.”  Oliver ran a hand through his hair, bouncing his leg. 

Oliver was good at acting. He knew the kid had done theater in school. Oliver’s mother had shown him videos. He had complimented Oliver during the moment but when Slade had left, he laughed his ass off.

“Whatever.” Slade felt they were done talking. They sat in silence. Oliver looked at his shoes. Slade closed his eyes. He wished he wasn’t here with the kid. 

He wasn't going to sleep, he knew better. He was resting them, waiting for something to happen.

Batman inspected the tape. They were brothers. The body language, The way the words flew out their mouths as they insulted each other. 

That wasn’t the doubt. It was why they were here. The portal had not been of their creation, Zatanna had told him that much. However the younger one had seem keen on not giving proper answers.

Batman grunted. Superman looked at him. “So, what do you think?” 

Batman rubbed his chin. “I think we should let them go. If they are dangerous we take them down and throw them in cells. If we let them roam free under the illusion we’re not keeping an eye on the more will be revealed.”

Superman nodded. “That is smart, a bit risky for you Bruce but smart.” Batman sighed. He knew it was a calculated risk but he was willing to take it.  

“I will release the prisoners, you run those blood tests.” Superman went to it, running to the lab. 

While Batman went to release the prisoners. He hoped this risk was worth it.

Now Slade and him were wandering the streets of Gotham. This wasn’t good at all. They have nothing.

“If I have to pretend to be your brother again I'm gonna hurl.” He walked with Slade and hurled the insult his way.

“We have to, that Batman is this city's protector and he knows we're brothers.” 

He glared at Slade. “Now you actually have to get a job.” Slade didn’t spare him a glance.

He had been more rowdy, more young and now it was hurting his head.

“I had one and I’m going to find work, faster than you probably. You look sixteen, seventeen, if we’re pushing it.”

“I’m nineteen!” He shouted in outrage. Slade chuckled.

“I’m so sure of that. I wouldn’t bet on that if my life depended on it. You’ve got a baby face. The hair isn’t helping.”

They had took a few turns and strayed from people until they had found an abandoned area of houses.

There were other people in the homes. The story was that the Joker had poison gased this area about three years ago and no one had gotten around to fixing it so it was basically a safe haven for the homeless after the air had become non-toxic again.

He hadn’t talked to any of the people because it was late at night and he was tired of social interaction.

Slade had talked to two of their new neighbors and earned a blanket, two water bottles and loaf of bread for his charisma. 

They sat on the dirty floor and grabbed a piece of bread out of the bag. “Alright.” Slade said pointing at him.

“We each get one slice every two days. No more no less.” He nodded. 

“You should have talked to the neighbors. We may have gotten more stuff.” Slade said as he stuffed his mouth. Oliver groaned.

“I don’t want to speak to anyone ever again.” He laid on the floor, arms spread as he contemplated the chance of getting Slade to share the blanket.

”Could you-“

”No, I’m not sharing.” 

He closed his eyes. He was sleeping right on this floor, right now. 

He hadn’t heard what Slade had said as he drifted off into sleep. 

That was a problem for tomorrow.

Chapter Text

Oliver was awake and itching for a fight. This whole situation made him feel vulnerable and so angry.

He looked at Slade and kicked him. “Get up.”

Slade hit Oliver’s face. He dodged and retaliated with a kick to the man’s side. Slade caught his foot and tried to flip him down. 

He kicked at Slade’s hand. He needed to get his anger out now before they started actually fighting. 

Slade stood up and grabbed his hand and flipped him to the floor. He held Oliver's arm in the air and put a foot on his back.

Slade looked at him with mirth. “You couldn't beat back on the island and you can't now.” His face changed to a serious look. 

“Your form was sloppy and your reflexes were slow. Obviously being in this body is a disadvantage. I mean you don't have your muscle weight and-” He twisted Oliver’s arm. 

“I'm taller again, which is hilarious. Work on your form.” Oliver turned his head to glare at him. 

Slade let go of his hand and removed his foot from his back. Oliver got up and moved away to the other side of the room.

His form had been sloppy, he was angry and Slade knew that. He had taken advantage of their current situation. God, he hated Slade. (And he was taller than Oliver, so Oliver can't look down on him.)

“I need swords,” Slade told him walking to a dusty chair. Slade sat in the chair looking at Oliver like he was stupid. There was a hint of something else though. 

Was it more amusement? 

“I know.” Oliver clasped his hands together, he needed something to do to not feel useless. 

Slade spared him a glance. He looked at Oliver, like he knew he was crawling to get out of here.

“I'm going to try and find a job. Stay here.” He walked towards the door. He couldn’t be around Slade much longer or he’ll lash out again.

“You don't order me around kid.” There it was the old nickname. He walked away and out of the rundown house. 

He walked the streets. Nobody looked at him because if he was being honest he looked roughed up. He silently thanked this weird city.

He was walking around aimlessly. Slade and him, stuck here together. 

Oliver was brooding again. He kept walking till he saw a shop. It looked a bit rundown, it was a pale yellow. It had a hiring sign in the window. 

He walked in and up to the front counter. The floor had a bit of blood on it but Oliver didn’t mind.

“You hiring?” He asked the man, putting his hands in his pockets. 

The man was old, greying. He was sweeping up. He didn't lift his head as Oliver spoke.

“Why? Want a job? Gotham’s not the place to go randomly walking in places.” The man put the broom down. 

The man titled his head at Oliver, he looked at him as if Oliver was a piece of meat or an anomaly,  like he was a mix of both.

“I’ll hire you. If you die I don’t want your family to sue me deal?” He shot Oliver a crooked grin. Oliver didn't have any family right now but he doesn't know that.

A nagging voice said he had Slade but he ignored it. Slade was an ally, nothing more.

“Name’s Moe. You start.” Moe looked at the clock that was barely working only still together by some tape. 

Moe hit the clock. “Tomorrow.”

Oliver smiled, “Great.” He had a job, now maybe after a few weeks. If he was hopeful, they could get more food

Slade sat in the chair. It was night now, Oliver still wasn't back. He better not have gotten kidnapped. He made that a habit since he got back from the... Island.

Of course, it was all just to secure his stupid millionaire playboy act but still, getting kidnapped twelve times a month? 

Oliver had looked comical at all the galas Slade had been at.

He would smile then glare at a person behind their back. His mother would always shoot him a look when she caught him doing that.

Of course that wouldn’t be happening anymore Slade had killed his mother.

He had meant to.

Oliver had killed Shado, which had been the reason why Slade had decided to get revenge. 

He had got it but was Shado avenged?

He remembered her laugh, her smile. He just remembered her. He couldn't protect his own at the end of the day. 

She was dead. Oliver is the only reminder of the island. Sara didn't count, she joined the party a bit too late. 

He laughed humorlessly. It wasn't a party. It was hell. He pondered his thoughts for a second. Did Oliver really kill Shado? Yes, his mind supplied. 

He made his choice and she paid for it! A voice hissed. Oliver still wasn’t back but why should he care?

Batman looked at the recording. Oracle had sent it to him. The clone of Green arrow had been walking around. 

They had a clear visual of his face. He looks angry and distraught. He had a bruise on his face. Was that from the other clone? 

Jonas was the name he had given Batman, that was a lie. When he said it he had twitched his hand a little bit.  

Batman had told his children to watch for them when they were on patrol. He needed to get answers but first he had to tell the donors. 

He grunted and got in the batmobile. He would tell Green arrow first.

Jason rode through the streets. He had just busted a new drug ring. He now was on his way to a meeting with Black mask.  

He cut through the next alley and stored his motorcycle behind a shipping container. 

They were meeting at a dock. He had his extra gun on him in case things went left.

Black mask’s ugly face greeted him. “Hood. Glad you could make it.” Jason titled his head. Black mask sucked his teeth.

Jason wasn’t prone to greeting him. 

Black mask was a annoying asshole and Jason hated working with him, but it was better for crime alley if he did.

“Do you have the guns?” There was a shipment today and Black mask just happened to control the docks it was being delivered at. 

Black mask pointed to a black briefcase. “Open it.” Jason said. Black mask’s goons opened it and inside were the guns. 

Black mask had kept up his end. Good, Jason didn’t want to have to shoot somebody right now.

Jason nodded and tossed a duffel bag at the man. Jason went to retrieve the guns “Wait.” Jason paused, his hand flew to a gun. 

“Not that.” Black mask rolled his eyes. He signaled a goon forward. “I found a boy. Near my territory. He looked suspicious so I roughed him up a bit.” 

It was a blond haired kid. He looked around sixteen. He had blue eye filled with anger, and maybe boredom. His gag had blood on it, maybe he talked too much and someone had struck him?

His face was covered in bruises and he was shirtless. He had a multiple knife wounds and was slowly bleeding all over.

Black mask watched as he observed but stayed quiet.

He had many scars on his chest. What Jason noticed the most was that his handcuffs looked bloody, like he had tried to scratch himself free with his hands. Having good survival instincts was admirable.

His fingernails had payed the punishment though, they were bloody and missing a small chunk.

“What is this.” He growled. “An offer. How much do you want for him?” Black mask fixed his tie, looking at Jason expectedly.

Jason pulled out his gun. “I don't buy people! And He's coming with me, Take your fucking money and go! And If you try anything!” 

He grabbed his knife from its sheath. “I’ll gut you like the dirty pig you are!” Black mask just stood there, then his goons started shooting.

Jason grabbed the kid and put him on the back of his motorcycle. He drove fast, racing the bullets. He cut through every street he knew. He looked back and the goons were gone. 

He hadn’t shot anybody tonight. (He was itching to but it hadn’t been needed. The pit roared.) 

He looked at the person on the back of his motorcycle. He was still gagged but looked at Jason calmly. He removed the gag.

“What is your name?” The man twitched his mouth a bit.

“Jonas. I need you to drop me off somewhere.” Jonas as he had just told him, was straight to the point. 

He looked forward. “Where? Black mask got you pretty good and you’re still bleeding.” 

Jonas looked at his chest. “Minor injuries.” He dismissed. Jason groaned silently. “The corner of 8th and Phillips street.” Jonas put his hand to a wound. 

Jason curved off his path and headed that way. “Why were you near Black mask territory.” Jonas only stared, “I wasn’t. He was lying. I was going h-.”

Jonas’s mouth caught on the word. “I was going to my house, he happened to be having a meeting near by and he got me.”

Jonas looked angry, at himself for getting caught. He was just a civilian. He couldn’t beat himself up.

He clearly wasn’t from here to know what it was like. He had gotten taken advantage of but that was expected from a non-gothamite. 

Jason knew he shouldn’t underestimate him. His training made he think better than  that.

He looked at sky. He needed a cigarette.

He stopped on the corner. “Here.” He helped the man get off the bike and looked at him once more. He looked familiar. Was he from the news? No, Jason would know. 

He shrugged off the thought and climbed back on his motorcycle. He would figure it out later, right now he needs a warm shower.  

Oliver walked to the abandoned houses. He was bleeding sure but he wasn’t going to be deterred by minor injuries. 

They had chloroformed him. His body just wasn’t working the way he wanted it to! He had trained and now his body was back to this. The scars are still there but the body itself, different. 

He walked past the neighbors and opened the creaky door. The noise grated his ears. “Slade?” His voice sounded weak to his own ears. 

It was like he wasn’t feeling in control of his body. He didn’t like this feeling. 

Slade was in the, well it wasn’t really a kitchen it was busted up and dirty but he supposed at one point it was a kitchen. 

The look he gave Oliver made his stomach twist. “I told you to work on your form.” He walked past him and into one of the rooms.

Oliver stood there holding his wounds. He shouldn’t have expected him to care, they are allies.

Slade peeked his head out of the room.

Slade glared at the floor. “Stop bleeding on the floor. You’re making it dirty and I lay there sometimes.” 

Oliver felt like laughing. Slade sounded like his mother. Though she would have phrased it like.

“Stop bleeding on the floor it’s unbecoming. Also Oliver did that McCarthy girl talk to you? Her parents are very nice and well off and I would love for-” 

That was where he would cut her off and say he didn’t plan on having kids soon.

He didn’t know why his stomach twisted and he felt like crying?

Oliver doesn’t cry. Crying is for those who can’t protect themselves which is why Oliver needs to be strong and protect those who cry. 

He walked into the other bedroom and laid down on the broken bed. He removed his hand from his wounds and stared at it. 

It was red. (Red, Red, Red. The color of all the blood on his hands.) 

Oliver’s stomach hurt. There was a sharp pain going on and it hurt. He held his hand back to his stomach and rolled on his side. That slightly eased the pain. 

His face felt wet. He was crying. Oliver shook his head. He doesn't cry. 

He doesn't, He doesn't, He doesn't. 

He can't breathe. Oliver tried breathing in and out but his damn chest hurt. He closed his eyes.

I’ve endured torture worse than this. I’ll be fine he thought, but I'm bleeding and it hurts, a voice said. Ignoring it he tried to stop thinking about the pain. He was fine. 

He wasn’t pathetic! He can't control it. He can't control his body. His face was wet and he ached. 

The darkness colored his vision and Oliver let it. He floated to a painful sleep. 

“I have a what?!” Oliver screamed, looking at the screen. They had met on a roof since Oliver had been out patrolling alone when he had found him.

It wasn't smart to yell that but Bruce wasn't inclined to tell him that.

“A clone. Oliver have you come in contact with Cadmus people? Or anyone willing to clone you?” Bruce questioned. 

Oliver rubbed his chin. “No. I haven't, maybe he's a clone made a couple of years ago. You say he's running with the deathstroke clone? I would ask him.” 

Bruce nodded. “I will as soon as I locate him. If you see him or the other clone.” Bruce shot a grapple at the nearest building.

“Tell me.” And with that, he left.

Oliver looked at his friend’s fading frame. He pulled out his phone. 

“Hey Dinah. How would you feel if I had a clone? On a scale of course.” He tapped one of his fingers and waited for an answer.

“So, what do you plan on doing with the clone?” Dinah asked, swirling her spoon in the coffee. “Maybe make him part of the family.” He rubbed his neck.

“It’s all so complicated. I mean he didn’t ask to be made, you know?” He looked at Dinah. 

The cup that was his sat untouched. He wasn’t in the drinking mood. Dinah nudged his cup towards him.

“Drink. It helps some people feel better.” Oliver took a sip. “I just- He’s around nineteen and he doesn’t need me. He’s a clone, maybe he hates me.”

She got up and kissed Oliver on the cheek. “I know and whatever you decide to do I will be there with you.” She walked past him and put her cup in the sink. 

“Thanks, Dinah.”

“Also it’s your turn to do the dishes.” She stated cheerfully and waltzed away. 

Oliver groaned. “Every time.” He mumbled and got to washing the dishes.

He should call.. Roy and the others to see if they had spotted the clone. He looked at his phone. Should he?

His finger hovered over Roy’s contact and he put it down. He should wait after the dishes.

“I’ll call them tomorrow.” He murmured.