I do not own Batman.
Broken takes place around the same time as the main body of Theft.
Dika is 16
WARNINGS: Some frank discussions and mentions of some brutal realities that come with slavery.
"In that case, why'd you even bother in the first place?"
The shout rings through the cave and the echoes bounce back to where Dika stands, still in costume but without the mask, his eyes spitting fire, though partly veiled by the dried blood from the wound on his forehead. Brutus feels his fear well up again and turn to anger at the sight, made worse by the field dressing around the boy's shoulder and the copious cuts and bruises that seem to cover more of his skin than not, and forces it down for what feels like the hundredth time since this fight started. It is getting harder each time. "When you first began working with the team I was unaware how much time it would take from your duties and training here as Robin. I also underestimated the danger it would put you in."
"So just like that," Dika growls and Brutus feels a twinge at the deepening of his voice. When did that happen? Where did the light-hearted, high-voiced child of yesterday go? "You're not going to let me go with them any more, even though I'm their leader, just because of the danger? I'm usually in more danger here in Gotham!" he gestured at his wounded shoulder "I'm fine Brutus, what-"
The fear-anger breaks through the storm walls and sweeps over Brutus like a flood. "Then perhaps you shouldn't be Robin anymore at all. You have become a liability and were almost killed tonight!" he snarls, and plows on despite the expression of shock on Dika's face. "And I've invested too much in you for you to get broken by one of those lunatics because you were too slow to move out of the way."
He retains enough control of himself to be aware that he has made a dreadful mistake as a blank, empty look settles over Dika's countenance, not swiftly or completely enough to disguise the hurt that remains in his expressive blue eyes.
"Of course." The teenager says in a low tone, "I forgot. It would be a shame should anything happen to damage your property Master Varius."
Brutus feels the twist in his gut and why, oh why does he say what he does next?
"For once in your life be silent or I'll whip you myself!"
The echoes don't have time to settle before he is speaking again.
"You are no longer Robin. I have no need for a partner, as your absences with that team have shown, and you have no need to be so endangered. Now go upstairs and go to bed!"
He turns his back and marches over to a weapons rack and begins placing his armaments upon it. Behind him, he can hear the near-silent rustling as Dika strips out of his Robin costume and dons his civilian garb, his breath hitching as he eases the tunic over his wounded shoulder, scrapes out the cover that hides the clipped potion of his ear, and patters up the staircase with steps no heavier than they have ever been. Then and only then does he collapse into the chair set in front of the great map of Gotham City on the wall and drop his face into his hands.
It is almost two candlemarks before Brutus exits the cave and makes for the upper levels of the manor. He bypasses the corridor that leads to his chambers, and heads instead for those that have traditionally belonged the First Son of the House of Varius and, these past eight years, have been home to the boy who has been his son in all but name.
He does not know how long he stands before the door before he takes a breath and silently pushes it open.
Dika isn't there. The bed is untouched.
In a growing panic, Brutus realizes that not only is Dika not there, neither is Zitka, the worn elephant fashioned from scraps of fabric that Dika's mother had made for him as an infant, the only remnant of his life with his parents. A quick examination of the wardrobe shows that most of Dika's clothes remain, with the exception of two or three of his simplest tunics and trousers, as well as (strangely) the costume he wears to perform at galas.
Other than the elephant and the clothes, the only thing missing is the one thing that convinces Brutus that Dika has fled.
The small sketch of him and Dika, at the time only ten years old, no longer is tacked on the wall beside the bed.
His heart in his throat, Brutus pounds down the stairs, headed for the slave quarters. Alfredos will know what to do, he always does. He takes the final corner a little too sharply and nearly runs into the wall (the halls down here are narrow and low ceilinged and he does not fit as comfortably as he used too when he was a small child.) He makes for the door at the end, the one that leads to Alfred's chambers (as steward he has a suite) but comes to a sudden halt at the flickering light emanating from beneath one of the first doors.
It is with a sinking feeling in his stomach that Brutus nudges the door open, not silently this time, as the old, unused, and uncared for hinges creak quite loudly at the movement. Dika looks up from where he is strewing fresh rushes over the floor near the pallet of old blankets made up in a corner. Brutus feels a slight twinge of relief at the sight of the fresh bandaging showing from beneath his tunic. Alfredos has taken care of that at least. The few clothes missing from the upstairs wardrobe are folded neatly on the rushes beneath the single wooden shelf in the room which holds Dika's tumbling costume, its accompanying bangles and belled anklets gleaming in the low lamp-light.
Zitka sits on the pallet, tucked partly beneath the cover blanket as if to hide her, and Brutus can see the slightest corner of papyrus showing from beneath the tumbling costume.
Dika has finished placing the rushes and stands in the center of the room, (such a tiny little room, no more than a closet) still in a way that Brutus has not seen him since his parents' burial, his hands folded behind him and his eyes on the floor. "Was there something you wanted Master Varius?"
Brutus flinches at the boy's dead tone and, unsure of what to do, simply closes the door and flees the lower levels for his own chambers.
What has he done?