She had known that the paintings would be dark in their portrayals of suffering and death, but she had forgotten how well her brother could make the viewer feel those emotions. Canvas after canvas screamed silently in oils, watercolors, and chalks. There was even one in crayon: "Third Birthday", drawn as if by a child's hand, of an overturned birthday cake lying on the floor, next to the massive impression of a Sentinel's footprint pressed into the wooden floorboards. Presents, charred and half-crushed, lay scattered at the corners of the canvas.
She almost didn't want to see what Joseph had just completed. The intensity of the images and emotions in the pictures was increasing, as though what had been allowed to only trickle out at first was now being released at full throttle. Her curiosity drove her onward, and she lifted the sheet off the canvas that, though finished, was still on the easel.
The dishes in her other hand slipped from her nerveless fingers and clattered to the floor.
A woman lay on the ground, her head thrown back, her glassy eyes staring sightlessly out at Rose. Blood soaked her dress, streaked her face, blended with the auburn strands of hair that were spread around her like an elaborate headdress. The background figures -- her killers? -- were mere impressionistic streaks of blue, black, and grey; cold contrast to the warm scarlet tones that decorated her ghostly-pale face. Rose dropped the sheet back over the painting and sank to her knees, sobbing. She didn't need to read the title to know that it was simply, elegantly, "Jessica".
"They're powerful images, are they not?" a quiet voice asked. Rose looked up sharply, anger covering her embarrassment at having been seen crying over a painting. Aharon didn't seem to notice, his gaze lost among the paintings. "Bruce is arranging to have them displayed in the Louvre in return for covert aid from the French government."
"Why aren't you in your wheelchair?" Rose muttered, gathering the fallen dishes.
He picked up the glass from where it had rolled and held it out to her. "I saw you come up here. I thought perhaps you might need an outlet for the emotions your brother's work can evoke."
She wiped her eyes again, a little less self-consciously. "You sound like you're familiar with his work."
"I am," he smiled. "You may think it terribly out of character, but I greatly enjoy art, and your brother is exceedingly talented. True, his previous works were much more... placid... but darker themes have their place. And what better way to show the world the hell that America has become?" He lifted the cover from the painting Rose had been looking at; she saw the corners of his mouth tighten in response. "His wife?"
She nodded.
Carefully, he replaced the covering, the memory of lost love shining sadly in his eyes. "If only I had the skill to honor Magda so," he whispered, more to himself than to Rose. In that instant, Rose saw Aharon not as a conquest-obsessed madman, but as a man much like her brother, who had lived through more than his fair share of pain and horror. Impulsively, she placed one hand on his arm in silent sympathy.
After a moment, he sighed and turned to face her. "I'm returning to the Containment Facility tomorrow. If all goes as planned I'll be back in a month or so." He rested his hands on her shoulders. "Be well, you and your family. And don't fear for Joseph; he will recover, I promise you. It may take him years, but eventually, you'll recognize him as your brother. He wouldn't have made it even this far, otherwise."
"Thank you," she murmured, staring down at the floor as he turned and walked out of the studio.
Surprised as she had been by Aharon's words, she was even more surprised by her own anticipation of his return a month later. The intervening time had been eventful, what with the transfer of Joe's paintings to the Louvre, her daughters' birthday party, and her brother actually initiating a conversation with her. Even Dick had commented on her unusually high spirits. Rose, however, was of the opinion that for every good event, there was something unpleasant waiting just about the corner. So she was convinced that when he asked her and Gar for a private audience one day, it was in preparation for some very bad news.
She was wrong.
"Canada??" she gasped, echoing Dick's last word. "Why?"
He smiled. "Everyone needs a vacation, Rose. Kory, Mariand'r, and I were just there, about three weeks before Ryan was born. You'll love it."
"And the unspoken Ulterior Motive, oh fearless leader?" Gar asked with a grin, knowing Dick as well as he did.
Dick shrugged. "Just courier work; it won't affect your vacation. The R & D team will drop off the last part of the jammer, and you'll keep it safe until your contact in the Canadian Resistance Army arrives. However, I'd like it if you took Joe and Mariand'r with you. Joe because he needs it, and Mariand'r because she's quite the handful when she doesn't have anyone else her age to play with."
Suspicious as always, Rose asked, "What's going on that you want all the kids up in Canada?"
He couldn't help but smile. "You got me, Rose. Yes, there's that, too. We're preparing for our big strike against the Sentinel base, and although we don't anticipate any government action against Wayne Manor, we can't ever be certain. I'd feel better with the girls out of the way... just in case." He tossed her a set of keys. "Emil will 'port you up there in a couple of hours. Don't forget your toothbrushes."
Emil -- the former villain Warp from the Society of Sin -- was more than just the Gotham City Resistance Post's resident teleporter. He was also their covert connection to the French government, and through them, the rest of the United Nations. One of the few people privileged to spend time at Bruce Wayne's cabin, he was able to teleport them directly into the living room.
All that most people knew about the cabin was that it was in Canada, and that Bruce himself never used it. Those with an eye for detail and good knowledge of geography could deduce that it was in Alberta, as the imposing Rocky Mountains rose up to touch the western sky. At night, the only illumination was from the glowing ribbon of light that was the Milky Way, indicating that they were well away from the larger cities of Edmonton and Calgary.
As with all buildings owned by Bruce, the cabin was a veritable mansion, complete with a live-in cook and maid, both of whom were either Canadian Resistance Army members or sympathizers. As such, everything about the cabin was impeccably well-kept, including the boats that were moored in the nearby lake. Only the old gravel road through the meadow that lead to the property was overgrown, and Rose suspected that was intentional. With teleporters available for supplies, roads were unnecessary; perhaps the cook and maid were teleporters themselves.
It was early enough in the day that they decided to eat lunch out by the lake. Everything they would need was prepared for them while they unpacked, and since it was summer, Rose allowed the girls to go swimming first. Gar unfurled the oversized tablecloth for them to sit on while Mariand'r chased Lily and Rita through the shallow water at the lake's edge.
Joseph sat down at one corner of the tablecloth, looking more relaxed than Rose had seen him in all the months he'd been at Wayne Manor. By now it was obvious that the fewer people there were, more comfortable he felt. He had never been alone in all the time Rose had known him; when he hadn't been with Jessica, he'd been with his friends or his mother. Dick had confided to her that previously, Joseph had strongly disliked being alone, almost to the point of fearing it. Clearly, his time in the kennels had changed that.
Suddenly, Joseph shrank down, curling into a ball to make himself as small and inconspicuous as possible. Rose and Gar were immediately alert, scanning their surroundings to detect whatever it was that had triggered Joseph's reaction.
Gar pointed to the far edge of the meadow, where a small cloud of dust was gently rising. "Someone's headed this way; hold down the fort, hon, while I check it out." Changing into a falcon, he flew rapidly over to where the disturbance was while Rose gathered the children from the water and tried to reassure her brother that everything was fine.
When the Jeep crested the hill, she could see that her husband was riding in the back, which would have eased her mind if she hadn't also seen who was driving the vehicle. Clenching her fists, she took a deep breath and waited as her father stopped the car midway across the meadow and got out to continue the rest of the way on foot.
The third passenger took to the air, soaring over Slade's head and diving down again to skim over the tall grass before alighting in front of Rose. She was of average height and a somewhat slender build, much like Jessica had been. Unlike Jessica, her red hair was cut in a short bob, framing a freckled face marred by laser treatments.
Picking up on the tensions of the adults, Mariand'r let loose with a starbolt meant to warn off the former Hound. Immediately, the woman dropped into a battle crouch, electricity crackling around her clenched fists. Upon seeing that her adversary was a mere child, she froze, looking up at Rose for instruction.
Rose motioned for her to rise, shooting a warning glance at the impulsive half-Tamaranean child not to repeat that particular mistake. She made no movement as the woman leaned forward and inspected her face closely. One emerald green eye stared at Rose with crystal clarity; the other was useless, the clouded lens showing milky white through the permanently dilated pupil. Her left ear was also barely functional, if the hearing aid was any indication. The damage appeared to be related to the scar that ran from her left temple down to her nose, a mark similar to the smaller scar on Rose's cheek.
That thought clearly had passed through the ex-Hound's mind, as she reached out and gently ran her finger over Rose's scar. Her eyes flicked over to Joseph, who had uncurled and was staring back at her, but she made no move to approach him.
A series of shrill whistles pierced the air and the woman wheeled around, staring at Slade as he approached. He made a motion with his hands to indicate a small square object, then pointed back at the Jeep. She nodded once and took to the air again, her blue jumpsuit blending into the cloudless sky.
Rose turned a glare on her father. "You whistled for her? Like a dog?"
Slade met his daughter's eyes, his face impassive. "You saw the scars, Rose," he said quietly. "Kaia is a brilliant scientist and an accomplished pianist, but she's aphasic from the brain damage. Spoken words are wasted on her; even sign language is difficult. If it wasn't for her empathy, she'd be completely cut off from other people. Her intellect isn't impaired, but she can't tell a soul what's going on in her head. Not easily, at any rate."
Any reply Rose might have made was cut off by Kaia's return. She landed next to Slade and presented him with what looked like a cut-down shoebox. He smiled at her as he took it; she stepped back and looked away, uncomfortable with even that slight praise.
Slade handed the box to Rose. "Give this to Logan when you see him. It's the last part of the jammer Bruce has been waiting for."
" You're part of the R & D team?" she asked, staring down at the package in her hands.
One white eyebrow twitched upward. "No, but even scientists need a place to sleep, and have food on the table. I provide both, and my place is 30 kilometers from the nearest civilization, which makes it pretty damn secure. Grayson did tell you that I'd meet you here, didn't he?"
"Uh... not exactly," Gar spoke up when Rose failed to. "He told us someone from R & D. The only other thing he said was that we were to pass it on to our C.R.A. contact."
"Logan; the former Wolverine," Slade clarified. "He'll be by tomorrow, probably after sundown. A word of warning -- you won't detect him until he's right here, so don't be alarmed."
Kaia tapped his arm and he looked over at her. She pointed to herself and then to Joseph, and Slade nodded. Immediately, she dropped to all fours and slowly sidled closer to Joseph, keeping her eyes on the tablecloth. Hounds were never direct with anyone; direct action meant confrontation, and in a Hound's universe, confrontation always ended in violence.
He watched her as she approached, not retreating from her, but not reaching out to her, either. She waited until she was right in front of him, then slowly extended her hands toward him and tapped a complex pattern on his arm, her fingers gliding over his sleeve as they would over a keyboard.
Which was exactly what she was doing.
Whatever music she had chosen was familiar to Joseph, and as she stopped, he reciprocated, his fingers dancing an accompaniment down her leg. It was an odd form of communication, but it worked; she looked up at him with a smile on her face, and he smiled back at her.
Trust established, she touched his temples and pointed to her eyes. He looked at her quizzically; her motions had too wide a range of possible interpretations. She tried again, holding her hands around her neck like a collar and indicating the two of them. He shook his head and shrugged.
Frustrated, she turned to Slade and motioned for him to join them. Rose was amazed to see that her father knew perfectly well how to move around ex-Hounds; he was slow and deliberate, not making eye contact until he had settled himself next to them. Somehow, she had never expected that sort of patience or understanding from him.
Kaia was making more gestures, mostly her own creations mixed with an occasional ASL word. Slade seemed to comprehend her without too much difficulty. "She's asking if you know her, son," he said to Joseph, keeping his eyes on Kaia. "She thinks you may have worked together." Unbuttoning the top of her jumpsuit, she pulled the collar aside far enough to reveal her ID brand: Z9H.
Joseph nodded slowly. 'I know you.'
Clearly, though, he had known her before her injuries. He touched her face near her blind eye, his fingers running lightly over her cheek to rest near her equally-damaged ear. 'Why?' he asked.
Her ability to sign was less impaired than her ability to speak, but it still did not flow smoothly. Pantomiming a Hunt, she indicated a small quarry -- a child. She pointed to herself and pretended to catch the child. Glancing around furtively, she brought her powers to bear in a bolt of electricity that shot from one palm to the other. It seemed that she was implying she had killed the child, to spare him or her the miserable existence of a Hound. She hung her head as if expecting punishment, then signed, 'Master angry.'
Master. So Ahab had done this. He had probably intended to beat her to death, then reconsidered. Most of the mutants left were quiet powers, so Hounds were scarce these days, and even errant ones couldn't be killed with impunity. Especially when life in the kennels was a far greater punishment than death could ever be.
She started to say something else, but stopped when she saw Slade's hand move. Slowly, he put his hand on Joseph's shoulder and waited until the tension left his son's body before looking over at him. "Joe, there's a place for you in Kenya. I'd like it if you came home."
Joseph glanced from his father to his sister, then looked down again, uncertain. Kaia touched his leg to get his attention, indicating many people and shaking her head to negate her actions. She smiled, allowing her body to slump into a pose of casual relaxation. Even her awkward attempts at communication could convey her attraction to Kenya: no people; very peaceful.
Rose bit her lip. She had plenty to say about her father's request, but she didn't want to say any of it in front of her brother. It would open too many old wounds, cause him too much stress. And her comments might devolve into a fight, which would upset the children. Keeping her peace, however, was simply not a part of her psyche.
Slade surprised her again by acknowledging that. He motioned to the Jeep parked halfway across the meadow. "Head out," he told his daughter. "I'll meet you there."
Flashing a reassuring smile at Gar, she began walking toward the Jeep, keeping the anger out of her posture for the sake of her watching children. There was no denying that her desire to have Joseph stay in Gotham was purely selfish, but by the same token, she wanted what was best for him. She just didn't think that being with their father qualified.
She reached the Jeep and froze. Tucked behind the seats were brightly-wrapped packages complete with bows. A closer inspection revealed the names of all three of the girls. Her father, the heartless mercenary, bringing presents to children?
"I know it's too late for your girls' birthdays and too early for Mariand'r's, but it was the only opportunity I had to bring something without having to go through either Kenyan or Canadian customs."
Rose bit back a scathing retort. This was likely to get heated enough without starting off viciously. She kept her eyes on the presents. "If you care so much about kids, why weren't you ever there for us? Or even for Hadassah and David, for that matter?"
"It was too dangerous for me to be there for you, Rose," he said quietly. "I thought you knew that, after what Wade did to you and Lily. I didn't want to see you get hurt again -- or worse, killed -- just because I was your father. The only way to keep you safe was to cut all ties with you. Did you think I was just being spiteful when I told Steele not to let Wintergreen adopt you? Wintergreen was my best friend, and that was every bit as dangerous as being my daughter, or son, or even ex-wife. I learned that lesson a long time ago, on too many different occasions."
"Deathstroke the Terminator is history!" she snarled, wheeling around to face him. "Your enemies are history! What's your excuse now?"
Slade looked down and sighed. "For you? You hate me Rose, and not without reason. If you wanted me in your life, I would've gladly accepted, but you didn't, and I understand why. Gar sent me the wedding invitation; I actually considered attending, for the briefest of moments... until I realized that my presence would probably ruin what should have been your special day. My absence was the only gift I could give you; I thought you would appreciate it. I'm sorry if you didn't."
"Dassi and David didn't hate you. Where were you when they needed you? Or Jessica? Or even Addie, for god's sake!"
The pain in Slade's eye was evident even to Rose. "I would have given anything to have been able to prevent their deaths. Anything . But all I received were after-the-fact notices. What could I have done? There was no point in leaving Kenya; there weren't even any funerals to attend. Wintergreen had to hide the tape of Addie's execution so that I would stop watching it, just like he'd had to hold me back when Grayson told me that Joe had been captured. I was ready to charge headlong into the Hound kennels to rescue him, knowing that even with my abilities it would be a wasted effort. I settled for helping Wayne's resistance cell in exchange for his focusing on freeing Joe. Is it so wrong for me to want my son to come home?"
"Is that why you brought Kaia along? To help persuade him?" She knew she was being uncharitable, but the comment was out of her mouth before she could stop it.
Slade seemed genuinely shocked to hear her say that. "Kaia is a co-leader of the R & D team; she has the right to go on any mission she chooses. She hates leaving Kenya, but she wanted to go on this one so that she could meet Joe again. Hounds rarely trust anyone, even each other, but he was always nice to her, so she likes him. If that 'persuades' him to come to Kenya, fine, but that isn't why she's here."
She stiffened as her father rested his hands on her shoulders, and fought the urge to shake him off. "I can't change what happened, Rose," he whispered. "All I can do is apologize. I'm sorry."
It was up to her. Slade had said everything he was going to say; what happened next depended entirely on what words came out of her mouth. She knew what she wanted to say. She knew what Gar wanted her to say.
What came out of her mouth was what her mother would have wanted her to say.
"We're up here for a week; why don't you and Kaia stay awhile? It would give Joe some time to think about where he wants to be, and... you'll have a chance to meet your grandkids." And your daughter, finally .
He crushed her against his chest with the strength of his embrace, and for the first time in fifteen years, she didn't resent his presence. "C'mon, let's surprise the kids with the presents... dad," she added shyly.
Everyone was staring at them -- Gar with obvious relief, Joe with amazement, and Kaia with curiosity. Lily and Rita, of course, were fixated on the colorful presents their mother and grandfather were carrying, and could barely contain their anticipation. Only Mariand'r looked bored by the whole scene.
"Thank you, granddaddy," the girls squealed in unison when Rose told them who had brought them the presents. She handed the third package to the astonished Mariand'r, who glanced up at Slade and broke into a grin.
The presents were beautifully handcarved African animals in a variety of woods. Each girl had four, and no two were alike. They immediately set about playing "savannah", Lily's lioness alternately chasing Rita's giraffe and Mariand'r's gazelle. A crocodile, a zebra, a rhino, and an oryx were gathered in and around an imaginary water hole; waiting on the sidelines were a large snake, a hyena, a baboon, and a male lion. Joseph had picked up one of the animals and was staring hard at it, his expression unreadable. Only when he set it down next to the zebra did Rose see what it was.
A wildebeest.
Painful as it was for her, she made no move to distract him from the memories. The most important part of Hound rehabilitation was allowing the person to think their own thoughts and make their own decisions. If those thoughts and decisions were unpleasant, so be it; they could live with the consequences like everyone else. But that didn't make it any easier to watch.
Kaia had no such compunction about squashing depressing feelings, perhaps because her power forced her to feel the emotions of those around her. She slid her hands up Joseph's arms and over his shoulders, tiny sparks of electricity jumping between her fingertips, and Rose was amazed to see him visibly relax. In any other situation, she might have been horrified to witness such blatant emotional manipulation, but this time, she was thankful.
With the girls ignoring lunch in favor of play, there was plenty of food to go around. Like Joseph, Kaia made no move to take anything for herself, waiting patiently until Slade offered her something. She didn't bother pretending to follow the conversation, opting instead to play a guessing game with Joseph, each of them performing increasingly complex melodies on the tablecloth that served as a keyboard. If either of them was winning, it was impossible for anyone else to tell, but it was obvious to all that both were having fun.
After lunch, she even convinced him to go flying with her, looping high into the air before plummeting down to buzz the treetops. She never tired of aerial maneuvers, unlike Rose, who quickly grew bored watching them. Gar, on the other hand, turned into a merlin and joined in the fun.
"She enjoys anything that gives her a sense of freedom and control," Slade explained, smiling as Kaia traversed the lake, her hands trailing in the water. "Most empaths don't get flight as a by-product of their mutation, so she's lucky." When Rose didn't see the connection, he continued, "Her powers are bioelectrical, very narrowly-focused for an empath. Electricity and magnetism are linked forces, so controlling one allows for a certain amount of control over the other. But how she uses those forces to fly is a question that's probably better asked of Aharon than of me." He sighed. "If it wasn't for that damn head injury, she could tell you herself; it's all physics, and she's very good at that."
"It's hard for her, isn't it?" Rose asked.
Slade nodded. "We almost lost her because of it. As much as empaths need occasional isolation, they also need contact with others, and not being able to communicate makes that contact pretty useless. I have to admit, saving her was my personal victory; it didn't really make up for all the times I wasn't there for you and Joe, but it was something."
Rose looked up as Kaia soared overhead, chasing after Gar. It felt uncomfortable to ask, but she was too curious not to. "Are you two...?"
He almost choked on his iced tea, then shook his head, his expression grim. "You know what happens to female Hounds, Rose," he said quietly, even though Kaia wouldn't have understood had she overheard. "I'm amazed she's as relaxed around Joe as she is; she's never that way with me or any of the men on the R & D team. She's not afraid of us -- with her power to control the nervous system, she could kill us all if she wanted to. But she's wary, and she definitely doesn't like to be touched unless it's just to get her attention." End, Part Three