Born of Water and Wealth (Percy Jackson and Young Justice)

Chapter 5: Escaping Family

Edited On: 5/15/2021

Dear Richard 'Dick' Grayson-Wayne,

    I know this must be confusing. Me suddenly not being in the hospital bed with a stab wound. The short answer is, Slade Wilson, the man who stabbed me, he's my uh, he's my Master. Even if I don't refer to him like that. This must be so confusing and I'm sorry, I didn't know what he had planned tonight. I'm sorry if you feel betrayed, you probably felt enough of that through your life. Yes I know you're Robin, but it doesn't matter to me.
    I know I'm not making much sense at all and I'm sorry I couldn't stay. But being under the eye of the world's greatest detective....I'm sorry for ruining your night, sorry that I, uh, got blood on your suit. I just know that I needed to leave some sort of goodbye, or maybe a 'see you later'. I like that better. I'm probably going to be in lots of trouble for writing this note and for mentioning this later but....My name isn't Patricia Johnson, the name I sighed at the party with. My real name is Persephone, but you won't have any records of me. I'm a ghost that never truly existed until two months ago. It might be confusing but some day you'll understand.

                       See you later,
                                          PW

I watched Dick's heartbroken face as he read my note on the hospital bed I was supposed to be in.

I already knew that Bruce had alerted the nurses that I wasn't there and they were searching every room and hallway, what they didn't check was the windows just outside of the patient's rooms.

You know the one that is supposed to be locked, and most of all resting 6 floors above the ground.

Good thing I had that training earlier about gripping small places and even climbing without much ledge support.

I let my eyes cast downward, and more importantly away from Dick's devastated look. Ever so slowly, I climbed down the side of the hospital, away from prying eyes from the ground or around.

As soon as I stepped onto the ground, I carefully pulled up my shirt just above the wound and pulled the white covering on it.

It had a stinging pink tint around it but it was being held together by stitches that if I remember what the nurse said, should dissolve or fall off in a week or two, it depends how long it will take for the wound to heal.

The first stab wound I ever got and it was from my own master nonetheless. Guess I have something to accompany the whip marks that I'm given when Slade decides the punishment and not me.

Thankfully, the nurses left my clothes by a chair in my room, they looked new so it might not have been the nurses now that I think about it. I carefully walked the streets of Gotham.

I looked around and spotted a camera attached to a store, feeling like Batman, Bruce Wayne, whoever, would look around the surrounding area's video.

I stared at it and quickly mouthed, "I am sorry," and then forced myself to turn away, turn away from the family that my heart yearned, turned around from any sort of freedom that I would never get with Deathstroke, I turned away from my family that was a few blocks away.

I turned and went down a dark alleyway where I disappeared into the shadows and retraced my steps toward the place that I have learned to call, "Not So Sweet home."

I entered the room slowly and held my eyes downcast in a way of submission, "I see you got out of there," Deathstroke said, his voice uncaring as he didn't even look at me.

"Yes," part of me wanted to add, not because of you, instead I asked, "Was the mission a success?"

"Yes, the point was made," Deathstroke said. He finally stood up and I had a bad feeling about what might happen as he looked at me, "It is time for your next training session."

"What would that be sir?" I asked quietly as he walked over to me to look down at me. "It is time to push the pain aside. If something hurts, too bad. In this business, you aren't allowed to feel pain. Do we understand one another about what is to come?" Deathstroke asked, his voice hard and steady.

I gulped nervously, I did understand. I understood that by the pain he meant was both mentally and physically, meaning I would train with something broken in my body, "I understand." I said and held in the scream that wanted to rip out of my throat as my arm was expectantly broken.

I fell to my knees clutching my arm as I sewed my eyes shut to keep from making them tear up, it hurts. Badly that I could barely look at it. To acknowledge it.

Even more surprising was the sharp kick to my side that tore my wound back open. When I opened my eyes I saw Deathstroke looking menacing and ready for battle, steadying my breath I rolled to the side before a boot could smash into my side.

Holding my breath even as some blood started to spill down from my side and stain the shirt I was wearing.

Using the momentum of the roll, I quickly got up and into a fighting stance barely hiding a wince from my arm screaming in pain.

Slowly my breath and pushing the pain from both arm and stab wound, I focused on living and not getting hurt anymore. By the time I was sweating and almost passing out, it seemed I did Deathstroke proud because he stopped.

"Very well done," he said before taking my shoulder and escorting me to the doctor that we had who worked for Slade.

"Patch her up," he said as he made me sit down in there, "She will need to continue tomorrow and the week, see to it." He said without emotion, he turned around and walked away from me and the pain that haunted both my mind and body.