AUTHOR'S NOTE: So, this story idea has been bouncing in my head for a while and I decided to write it. To be fair, I've never done a gender swap story. Let me know what you think!

It Will Never Be Over

By Red Blaze 16

Nightwing slipped into her apartment, almost unnoticed by anyone. The apartment was small. It was a one-bedroom in an area of Blüdhaven that wasn't always safe. She could afford better. After her parents were murdered by Anthony Zucco, Bruce Wayne had taken her in as his ward. Her parents had had little in the way of savings, but Bruce, or more accurately, Lucius Fox had invested her money. In her own right, Rachel Grayson was a millionaire. But she wanted to be near where the action was. Of course, in a city like Blüdhaven, it was difficult to avoid action. Like tonight.

She was exhausted and sore. It has been a rough night. All the bruises and scraps would have been worth it, if she had been successful. But Nightwing had failed and someone was dead. It wasn't her first mistake. But it was worse because someone else had paid for it.

She stripped off the black and blue suit and put it into a special compartment to keep it hidden. Rachel made her way to the bathroom. She needed a shower, before she could go to sleep. She shut the door and turned on the water, letting it heat up. As she waited, she looked at herself in the mirror above the sink.

The black hair was pixie cut and it suited her face well. Not to mention, in her career as Nightwing, shorter hair meant less of a chance of someone grabbing her by it. Her sapphire blue eyes stared back at her. She noted that she was already developing a bruise on the side of her jaw. She would need to break out the make up for the next few days until it healed.

As the mirror started to fog from the heat of the water, she slipped into the shower and let the water pound down upon her. The water made some of her cuts sting, but she ignored it. It was a small price to pay for tonight. She grabbed a bottle of body wash and her loofah. Moments later, she was going through the automatic motions of washing her body. Her mind started to drift.

It had been Deathstroke tonight. Slade Wilson. One of the best hired guns in the world. A killer. To say that she had known him a while would be putting it mildly. When she had met him, she had been running around as Robin and the Titans had only recently reformed. He had come to the aid of Ravager.

She blinked the water out of her eyes and stared at the drain, watching the soap and water swirl together. Grant Wilson. She had almost forgotten about him. It wasn't intentional, but his time interacting with the Titans had been brief, even though it had had a lasting effect. Of course, no one had known that Deathstroke was Ravager's father at the time. Grant had died, burning himself out on the powers that H.I.V.E. had given him and Deathstroke had sworn revenge.

Wincing, she was brought back to the present, as she washed her hair and found a tender bruise forming on the back of her head. Of course, the cuts and bruises that adorned her body weren't the worst she had received from Slade. Over their careers, he had inflicted multiple gunshot wounds, bruises, cuts, and broken bones to her, both as Robin and Nightwing. Rachel's mind continued to drift into the past as she rinsed the shampoo.

Tara Markov. She had joined the Titans just to betray them and their identities to Slade. That's when Rachel had met Joseph Wilson. Deathstroke's youngest son was opposite of his older brother. Grant had been anger and jealousy. Joseph had been art and gentle smiles. Joseph had eventually became one of Rachel's closest friends.

Rachel grabbed a bottle of conditioner and squeezed out a dollop into her hand. She rubbed her hands together. Raising her hands to her hair, she sighed. Apparently it was a night for memories from the past.

As Jericho, Joey had joined Nightwing to save the Titans that Tara and Slade had captured and turned over to the H.I.V.E., fulfilling Grant's contract. When the battle was over, Slade was caught, H.I.V.E had disappeared, and Tara was dead. Slade had started the battle with the Titans over his oldest son, but had stopped fighting the Titans for his youngest son.

While Rachel considered Barbara Gordon her best friend growing up, Joseph had been a close friend and teammate. So, it had made sense when, after Slade had served time in prison and been paroled, to join Joseph when he would visit his father. While Adeline, Slade's ex-wife, had shared a lot of valuable information with Rachel, right before Jericho and Nightwing set off to stop Slade and Tara, it was the visits that provided even more insight. And a change in Slade and Rachel's relationship.

…...

THE PAST

Rachel stepped out of the house and looked around. The sun was slowly rising in the east and the African heat was already setting in. She had traveled with Joseph to meet with his father. After Slade had been released, he had decided to settle down on another continent. The older man seemed to view living near the Savanna of Africa a comparable alternative to being a hired gun.

She set down her water bottle on the porch then stepped off. She walked a few feet from the house. Rachel was wearing a pair of light gray yoga carpi leggings and and a dark blue tank top. A black sports bra completed the outfit and the shirt was low enough through the armpits that you could see glimpses of the bra underneath. Since she couldn't sleep in, Rachel had decided to get up and start the day with some meditative martial arts.

Carefully, she moved from one form into the next. She had been going through the motions for at least ten minutes before she became aware that she wasn't alone. Rachel stopped and turned to face the house. Slade was standing on the porch, leaning against the railing, with a coffee cup in one hand. She raised a brow at him and he took a sip of his drink.

"Are you always up this early, Grayson?"

"Only when I can't sleep," she replied.

Rachel walked toward the older man and went for her water bottle. Though she didn't want to admit it, it made her nervous being this close to Slade. She didn't trust him. After all, they had spent more time as enemies than whatever truce was currently happening. Rachel didn't expect the truce to last and figured Slade would eventually get bored with this new kind of country living.

"Care to teach me whatever it was you were doing?" asked Slade, after she had taken a drink.

"It's not going to help you against a stampeding elephant," she replied.

"I assume it's a form of meditation?" replied Slade. He set his coffee cup down next to her water bottle. The older man was dressed in light gray linen pants and matching short sleeved shirt. The eye patch, over his right eye, was dark gray. His white hair was short and his goatee and mustache were trimmed close to his face.

Rachel nodded. She waved a hand, indicating for Slade to follow her. "Is your preference standing side by side or would you prefer I face you?"

"Side by side is fine," he replied.

Rachel took up a position on his left side, so he could see her. She shifted her body into the first position and, out of the corner of her eye, she watched Slade assume the same position. She slowly went through the movements, with Slade copying the same movements. They practiced quietly together, but she quickly noticed that his right hand wasn't as smooth, transitioning from the fifth form into the sixth. Rachel stopped and walked over to Slade.

"Your right hand isn't turning correctly into the sixth position," Rachel said. She hesitated for a moment, before she placed her hand on his right wrist. Carefully, she guided his hand through the motion, then released his hand.

Rachel looked up. At 5'10", Rachel wasn't a short woman, but Slade was well over 6 feet. As she made eye contact, her mouth went dry. Slade was looking down at her and there was heat in his one eye. Not from battle or anger. Not embarrassment either from her correcting his move.

"Thank you...Rachel," he said. The gruff tone that had spoken those three little words echoed the heat that was in his eye.

She blushed and stepped back. It wasn't until after the Titans had defeated Deathstroke, with Joseph's help, that she had first seen his face. Slade, though older, was a very fit and handsome man. And, when he wanted to be, he could be charming. He had just never been charming with her.

Rachel also knew he wasn't stupid. Slade had known she was a woman since the moment that they met. But she had always assumed he saw her as his enemy first. For the first time since they had met, Slade saw the woman standing in front of him, before the hero, and he had liked what he had seen.

She nodded her head and moved away from him, but she was completely aware of how his eye tracked her. They went through the positions again and that's when she heard the whistle. She and Slade turned toward the house and saw Joey, holding a cup of coffee.

"Hey, Joey," said Rachel. Her voice sounded unnaturally bright.

Without a glance toward Slade, Rachel walked toward the porch and her friend. For the rest of the trip, Rachel was careful to not be alone with Slade.

…...

THE PRESENT

Rachel turned off the shower and pushed back the curtain. She stepped out of the shower and grabbed a plush white towel. She towel dried her hair quickly, before she dried off the rest of her body. She carefully hung the towel on the back of the door. Since she forgotten to grab a clean shirt or underwear, she'd use the towel to wrap it around herself when she left the bathroom.

Rachel wasn't a prude. Once she had put away her suit, she had walked to the bathroom naked. Being nude in her apartment wasn't a big deal to her. But she wasn't sweaty and hot from fighting any more and the added warmth of the towel would be welcomed on her brief walk to her bedroom.

She went to the medicine cabinet and took out the antibacterial topical ointment. Some areas had bothered her more in the shower and, now that her body was clean from the sweat and dirt, she knew she needed to apply the ointment on a few areas.

After she used it, Rachel put the ointment back into the medicine cabinet. She raised her head and stared into the fogged mirror. Rachel lifted her hand and wiped the mirror. She stared into the glass as her mind drifted into the past again.

…...

THE PAST

When Joey decided to visit his father again, he had asked Rachel to join him. She wondered if Joey was aware of his father's change in behavior toward her. While she had been careful to not be alone with Slade after the meditation incident, she wasn't ignorant of the looks he had given her throughout the last visit. It flustered her, which she thought amused Slade.

Then again, maybe she was making a bigger deal out of it than it was. Rachel had had few lovers, so she didn't have a lot experience to go on. Her longest relationship had been with Wally. When the original Titans had formed – Robin, Kid Flash, Speedy, Wonder Girl, and Aqualad – Rachel and Wally had shared a youthful relationship of kissing and holding hands. In the beginning, it had been sweet and innocent. In fact, they hadn't even progressed into anything more intimate until the original Titans disbanded.

Between school and life, the team found themselves spending less and less time together. When the team decided to end it, Rachel and Wally had left the team together, so they could try to figure out how to keep their relationship going without the team. One thing led to another and...Rachel didn't regret that her first lover was Wally, though it had been awkward when the team reformed. And if she was being totally honest, it had hurt her a little when Wally's attention had turned to Raven.

So, she found herself on a plane with Joey, heading toward Africa. When the plane landed, they gathered their baggage and headed for the exit. As they came out of the airport, it was a relief, for Rachel, to see William Wintergreen, a long time associate of Slade's, standing near a car.

"Joseph, Rachel," the older man greeted. "I hope your trip was uneventful?" His British accent brought memories to Rachel's mind of a different Englishman.

Rachel set down her bag. "It was good," she replied. She offered a quick smile.

Joey smiled and set down his own bag. He raised his hands. ::Where is my father?:: the young man signed.

Wintergreen frowned. He was still trying to learn American Sign Language, though he thought he had caught the sign for "father". "Your father was finishing up a hunting expedition, otherwise he would have been here to meet you."

Joey nodded. Wintergreen went to grab Rachel's bag, but stopped and withdrew his hand. Rachel had made it clear that she could handle her own luggage on a previous trip. Apparently, Wintergreen remembered. He glanced at her, offered a brief smile, then walked around the car to the driver's side.

Joey and Rachel loaded their bags into the car. Rachel let Joey take the front seat, next to Wintergreen, while she slipped into the back.

Though the airport was a bit of a drive to Slade's home, it felt like it took no time at all to reach the two-story ranch house. When the car stopped, Rachel opened her door and stepped out in the hot air. She collected her bag from the car. Joey also stepped out of the car and he looked at her.

::Wintergreen is going to put the car away before coming inside:: he signed. ::And he said our regular rooms are ready for us:: Joey collected his bag from the car.

Rachel nodded her head and they carried their luggage inside. The house was large enough to have multiple bedrooms. The Master suite, which Slade used, was on the first floor, along with a second bedroom. Joey stayed on the first floor with his father.

Rachel headed to the second floor. There were three more bedrooms on that floor, including the one she had used on previous visits. As she reached her room, she pushed open the door and carried her luggage inside. She set it on the bed and began to unpack.

The room was simple. The bed took up most of the room, with a small dresser and closet. A large fan took up most of the ceiling space and it was already on. It created a gentle breeze in the room. Rachel walked over to the closet, to grab some hangers for her clothes. She pushed open the door and stopped when she saw a burgundy spaghetti-strapped dress hanging in the closet. It was floor length and, at a glance, she could tell it was her size.

"It's for you."

She turned from the closet and saw Slade Wilson standing just inside of her room. He was dressed in tan shirt and pants. Brown boots, a black eye patch, and tan hat completed his look. It appeared that he had just returned from hunting. There was some dirt on the boots and she could see a faint sheen of sweat on his brow.

"Why?" Her tone was suspicious.

"I forgot to tell Joseph that I had bought opera tickets for all of us. It's a formal affair. I assumed neither of you would have brought anything appropriate, so I took the liberty of making sure you both had a formal outfit for your arrival," he replied.

"Thank you," she replied stiffly. She didn't know what else to say. She also didn't want to ask him how he guessed her size.

"You're welcome, Rachel," said Slade, before he slipped out of her room.

Hours later, they were dressed in their formal clothes and on the way to the opera. At the start of the night, Rachel had been a little uncomfortable. She hadn't planned to wear a dress while in Africa and she hadn't brought some of the items she would have normally worn, including a bra. Rachel had only brought sports bras with her for the trip and none of them had worked with the dress.

She had made the decision to go without a bra for the night. Between her exercising and training, to remain physically fit for being a hero, her chest was smaller than most of her fellow female teammates. She wasn't flat, but she could survive a night without a bra and expect that no one would notice.

The night was pleasant. The opera was wonderful. While Rachel enjoyed herself, she could see that Joey had been in his element. He loved art in all of its forms. He thanked his father when they left and Slade had given his son a genuine smile.

When they got to the car, Joey slipped into the backseat and slid over to make room for Rachel. Wintergreen was driving again and Slade planned to sit in the front. Though they both knew she didn't need the help, Slade assisted Rachel into the car. His hand slid across her back. She looked back at him. Slade smiled and said nothing as he moved toward the front of the car. Rachel shut her door.

At the ranch house, Wintergreen stayed in the car when Joey, Slade, and Rachel got out. He said he would put the car away and be inside shortly. Joey walked up the stairs in front of Rachel, while Slade brought up the rear. Joey was almost to the door of the house, when Slade spoke.

"Grayson?"

Rachel stopped and looked at Slade. Joey also stopped and looked back his father.

"I'd like a word with you, if you don't mind?" said Slade.

Rachel looked at Joey, who smiled. ::It's ok:: signed the blond haired man.

"Alright," she replied. She walked over to the railing and kept Slade in view. Joey disappeared into the house.

When it became apparent that Slade wasn't going to start the conversation, Rachel sighed. "What did you need to discuss?"

Slade stepped up to her. She took a step back and felt the porch railing press into her lower back. Slade smiled and she mentally kicked herself for retreating.

"Did I mention how lovely you look tonight?" asked Slade.

The question flustered her. She thought Slade had wanted to discuss Titan business or something that involved his former career as a mercenary. Had he really just paid her a compliment?

"What?" she said.

"The color suits you," said the older man.

He raised a hand and ran his forefinger down her bare arm. Since the night had been warm, there hadn't been a need for a wrap for the dress. Her breathing hitched at the contact. She felt something at his touch and it wasn't fear.

"What game are you playing, Slade?" she demanded.

Rachel shifted and slipped to the side, so she was no longer boxed in by Slade. The dress was a slim fit and, unless she ripped it, would limit her range of motion, if Slade decided to attack her. It was one of the reasons why she rarely wore dresses. Kory and Donna could afford outfits that impacted their ability to move. They were just that powerful. Rachel's skill lay in her ability to move and anything that limited it created a weakness in her defense.

"I don't think I'm the only person who has noticed a change between us," said Slade, as he turned to face her.

He stepped up to her and raised his hand. Rachel braced herself, but was surprised when he ran his forefinger down the edge of her jaw.

"I'm not going to attack you, Rachel," he said. "I have something more pleasant in mind."

"Maybe I'm not interested," she replied. She crossed her arms.

"Don't lie to me," replied the older man. He leaned his face down and his lips were only an inch from hers. "If you weren't interested, then why didn't you wear a bra under this dress tonight?"

"Don't flatter yourself," she snapped back. "I just didn't have anything that would work under the dress."

"Anything?" he asked. His gaze dropped to her waist and Rachel blushed.

He leaned forward that remaining inch and brushed his lips across hers. She gasped a little. She didn't step back, but didn't push him away either.

"I won't force you, Rachel," murmured Slade. "I'm offering an opportunity for us to explore what could be developing between us."

She knew she should say no. She knew that she should tell him to get away from her and never to think of her...of them...doing something like what he was suggesting ever again. Instead she found herself saying the opposite.

"Yes."

…...

THE PRESENT

Rachel grabbed the white towel from the door and wrapped it around her body. After she had agreed, Slade had waited until the house was quiet before he had joined her in her room. It had been a night of passion. But Slade had also shown that he was a tender lover and made sure her needs were met. She had surprised him with her flexibility and he had surprised her with his stamina.

And that first night hadn't been the only night. Rachel and Slade would often find opportunities to be together. They were careful that others didn't find out. Rachel didn't think her teammates, especially Gar, would have approved of what she was doing. Changeling had blamed Deathstroke for Tara's betrayal and death. It was easier than accepting that Tara hadn't been who she said she was.

Then, everything changed. Joseph turned evil. To be more precise, Jericho didn't, but he was possessed and it made him do terrible things. In the final hour, Joey had a brief moment of lucidity and begging for someone to stop him before he killed millions, including his teammates. Deathstroke stopped him. Slade had killed his own son.

After the battle, Rachel had lashed out at Slade. In her grief, she attacked him. And Slade had slapped her back, literally. By the time he was done, her face was bloodied and Slade had stormed off. Whatever kind of relationship she had had with him had ended with the death of Joey.

As Deathstroke, Rachel continued to occasionally interact with him. Always with masks on, until Blüdhaven. You could imagine her surprise when she came home to her apartment, after grocery shopping, and found Slade sitting on her couch.

She had dropped the bags and demanded to know why Deathstroke was in Blüdhaven. And he had been there as Deathstroke, not Slade Wilson. While he hadn't been wearing the orange and black mask, he wore was rest of his suit while he lounged on her couch. He shared that he had been hired to kill someone in her city. When she had demanded to know who, Slade had told her that that would be cheating.

It didn't take long for Rachel to figured out that Slade's target was Amy Rohrbach, Rachel's partner in the Blüdhaven Police Department. Rachel had gone through the Academy to become a police officer, so she could make a difference – and get inside information – both when she wore a mask and when she didn't. Amy had been one of the few honest cops on the force. And someone hadn't liked that Amy was a good cop who couldn't be bought.

In the end, Rachel had saved Amy, though it had taken a bullet wound in her arm, the assistance of Cassandra Cain as Batgirl, and half a million dollars plus one dollar, to stop Slade. That's right. Rachel had paid Slade to not kill Amy and all it had taken was one more dollar than whomever had hired Deathstroke.

That night, after Rachel had paid Slade, she had woken in her apartment to someone moving around. She readied herself to fight, but hesitated when she heard one word. Well, it wasn't just because someone had said her name. It was because Slade had said her name. A moment later, he had joined her in bed and it was almost like no time had passed. Slade had been a little more passionate and a little less tender. By morning, he was gone and she wondered if she had dreamed the incident.

Rachel shook her head. After tonight, it was obvious that whatever they had had was dead. Deathstroke had come at her hard and she had fought, but it wasn't enough. In the end, Deathstroke pulled the trigger and now a man was dead.

With the towel secure, Rachel opened the bathroom door and stepped out. She had only taken a few steps when she heard the swift movement of feet rushing down the hall at her. As she spun to face her attacker, she raised her hands.

There was very little light in the hallway and she had turned off the bathroom light when she had exited the room. The first blow she blocked. She moved in with a return strike, but it was blocked by her attacker. The fight dislodged the towel, but Rachel was more concerned about surviving than her modesty.

A kick caught her in the stomach. Without her suit to absorb some of the blow, the air rushed from her lungs. A moment later, she was slammed against the wall of the hallway. Luckily, she had turned her head or she would have been dealing with a bloodied nose on top of everything else.

Her back was vulnerable to her attacker. Her right arm was cranked backwards. Any more pressure and she feared whomever it was would break her arm. She lifted her left arm and placed her palm against the wall, reading to push off of the wall.

"Rachel."

Her name was growled, but she recognized the voice. It was almost like remembering the past had conjured him. Then again, she had faced Deathstroke earlier that night, so she knew he was local. He pressed his body into hers and she knew he was as naked as she was. And she could tell that he was very happy to be there.

"Let me go," she demanded. Her voice sounded steady to her.

"I can't," he whispered the words. His lips where near her right ear.

"If you think I'm going...after tonight," she replied.

She struggled against his hold. He cranked her arm more and she gasped. She hooked her foot around his ankle and attempted to jerk him off balance. He started to slip, but quickly righted himself. He wrapped his free hand around her chin and pulled her head backwards, stretching her neck. The back of her head touched his shoulder.

"I'm a killer, Rachel," he growled. "You knew that when you took me to your bed."

"Well, I'm not taking you to my bed this time," she snapped.

"Fine," he growled. "The floor of this hallway would work just as well."

She struggled and broke free of his hold. Slade let her step back from him. She turned and placed her back against the wall.

"It will never be over between us," said Slade. "And we both know it."

He stepped forward. She raised her hands, ready for him to attack. But instead of striking her, he wrapped his hand around the back of her head and brought his lips to hers in a crushing kiss. Her heart rate sped up and, she knew, Slade was right. It would never be over between them.

"Yes," she whispered and Slade took her to the floor of her hallway.

When it was over, he left without another word. She stood up, turned on a light, and found the towel. Rachel entered her bedroom. She sat on the edge of her bed, the towel in her lap, and she knew. In Africa, she should have told Slade no. Now, she realized that her decision would eventually cost a piece of her soul.

THE END

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