Chapter Two: Sanctuary

It had been weeks, though it seemed like years, since Bart had slept in a bed. Never in one quite as cozy as this. He rolled over in the sheets, trying to force himself back into a deep sleep, wrestling with the fact that he'd had his share of sleep for this night. Eyes opening slowly, he saw an unfamiliar alarm clock, it's digitized face reminding him it was past noon.

Bart sat up slowly, now confused about where exactly he was. This looked a little too homey to be a hotel, and besides, he could never afford a hotel this nice. The previous night's events rushed back into his brain- where they came to an abrupt halt when he hugged the Green Arrow. Weird... he hugged the Green Arrow.

The Green Arrow saw him naked. The Green Arrow saw him broken and defeated. He'd abandoned him here in this... place. No wonder he wanted to get rid of the street urchin. A guy like that couldn't be bothered with some homeless kid going nowhere in life.

Bart lay back down on the bed, trying to make sense of his situation. There was a door cracked open across the room... there was a smell of food in the air... there was someone else around here. Feeling uneasy, and hoping whoever it was at least knew the Green Arrow had deposited him in their home, Bart crept out of bed.

He was wearing nothing but his boxers, but he couldn't find his clothes anywhere around him. He grabbed a blanket from the bed and wandered towards the door. From a window nearby, he could see all of Metropolis.

The door lead to a big open space, with couches and a television. The whole set-up looked very expensive, Bart found himself praying that they didn't call the cops when they found this kid in their home. He peeked into a magnificent and modern kitchen, where a blond man was busy at the stove. He coughed politely so the man would turn around.

"Good, you're finally up." he gave a bright smile to the teenager. Oh my god. It was Oliver Queen.

"You.. you're... you. Oh-my-god-I-am-so-sorry-I'll-leave-right-now." Bart stuttered in shock. Why the hell was he in a freaking billionaire's penthouse?! What on earth happened after he blacked out yesterday?

"Bart! Don't leave, I'm making lunch!" Oliver called, chasing after the youngster who was frantically looking for his clothes.

"How do you know my name? What am I doing here?" Bart held his blanket tightly to his body, keenly aware that he was more than a little naked in front of a guy who seemed to own half the town. He stumbled backwards into a wall, tripping over the blanket.

"The Green Arrow. He, uh, he dropped you off here. We're good friends, I told him you could hang out here for a while." Oliver lied. He was originally planning on revealing his secret identity to Bart, but soon realized he didn't know much about the kid. He wanted to trust him, but then again he would be ruined if the kid went out and blabbed to everyone.

"Did he tell you... what happened last night?" Bart murmured, looking at his feet. He didn't want this mogul to look at him with the same pity he saw in the Arrow's expression.

" He said you were mugged." Oliver offered awkwardly. Having seen the boy's pained expression when he asked the question, he presumed he was ashamed of what happened. He wanted to be someone who could tell the teen that it wasn't his fault and that he had nothing to be ashamed of. And he believed that to be true. Then again though, he had no idea what events had led up to last night's "mugging", and although he was sure Bart hadn't deserved what he got, he didn't really know much at all.

"Uh, yeah. Yeah, I was mugged." Bart shuffled awkwardly, still leaning against the wall. "Do you uh, do you know where my clothes are?"

"In the wash... do want to borrow some of mine or something?" This exchange was getting more and more uncomfortable by the second.

"I don't think we're quite the same size, ..." Bart looked the man up and down, he was almost a foot taller and much more muscular. He felt even more like a child.

" Well that blanket isn't exactly a small either... " Oliver snickered at his own remark, already turning to go find a shirt for this kid. "Wait here.." he called as he disappeared into his bedroom.

Bart stumbled over to the couch and took a seat awkwardly, waiting for his host to return.

Oliver came back with a simple white t-shirt. It had shrunk in the wash last week and had been stashed in the back of a drawer ever since. It would still be a little big, but much closer to the teenager's size than anything else he owned. He tossed it to Bart, who readily put it on.

Sure, he was still in his boxers... , Bart thought, but at least those were sort of like shorts. Though he was anxiously awaiting the moment his pants were dry.

Oliver couldn't help but stare as Bart removed the blanket and sat before him for a brief moment wearing no shirt at all. His pale skin was marked by several large bruises, some a deep purple and others a faded yellowing colour. Obviously, yesterday hadn't been the first rough day for his young friend.

A thick scar ran along the boy's bony and thin torso, long and harsh... like he'd been broken in half and sewn sloppily back together. "Mr. Queen... could you please stop staring?" Bart's eyes were downcast, filled with anxiety.

Oliver jumped, embarrassed having been caught. The two men were left staring at their feet, both feeling a little shameful. "I'll uh... I'll be in the kitchen. Lunch. When you want it..." Oliver tried to seem bright and cheerful as he turned heel, retreating to the kitchen.

He leaned heavily against the countertop, breathing, his cheeks flushed. He was unusually fazed by this kid. For some reason he really wanted to impress Bart, wanted to show him that he could be a real hero. "Mr. Queen? Mr. Queen... are, are you alright?" the teenager ran into the room, confused by his host's expression, the way he was sweating.

The older man stood up straight in an instant. " Uh, what. Nothing. Anyways... lunch? Yeah, how about lunch?" He busied himself plating some of his poorly made food, having given the cook the day off rather than explaining why he'd be cooking for two. Bart cringed a little at the site of a blackened hotdog, accompanied by a cream coloured paste.

Bart poked the mash with his fork, examining it as the substance jiggled. "What exactly is-"

" Mac and cheese, man." Oliver took a bite of his own. Okay, it wasn't perfect... but he was pretty sure it was still edible. He took a swig of beer along with it "Yum!"

"Uh, right. Thanks." Bart didn't particularly care about the quality of the food he was about to consume. He hadn't eaten at all in the past three days- he would have eaten his own arm if he had to. Often forced to steal in order to get his next meal, the guilt frequently persuaded Bart to live without.

Oliver was pretty stunned after his guest managed to finish off all of the food he'd made. That was 5 hotdogs and a whole pot of macaroni and cheese. "Hungry much, Bart?" he commented as the boy scraped the last remnants of food from the pot on the stove, eyeing in mournfully when it was clean.

"It's been a while since I had a meal... Anyways, I should probably get going. So, if I can have my pants, I'll be good to go."

"And where exactly do you think you're going to go? Rumour has it you're not sure yourself." Oliver chastised the teenager. He knew he couldn't make Bart stay with him, but he'd been hoping he'd be able to convince him.

"It doesn't matter. You're not my legal guardian, you can't force me to stay here!" Bart stormed out, looking for his things.

"I'm not going to force you. I just want you to stay here. Where I know you're safe." The young billionaire found himself caring deeply about what would happen to the boy he'd known for mere hours.

Bart stopped, looking the man up and down."Why do you care so much, ?" He sounded a little angrier than he felt.

"FOR GOD'S SAKE, CAN YOU PLEASE STOP CALLING ME THAT?!" Oliver spat, tired of hearing himself referred to in such a formal manner.

Bart backed away quickly, a familiar chill of fear running through his veins. In the end, everyone who took him in turned on him. Even his own family had betrayed his innocence.

Seeing the fear in Bart's eyes, Oliver realized he'd struck a nerve within the boy. "Bart.. I'm sorry. It's okay, I'm not gonna hurt you..." he raised his hands above him as a sign of peace. "Just... call me Oliver, okay?"

Bart took a deep breath, then smirked casually. "Alright, Oliver, why do you care?" he emphasized each word bitterly.

"Because... because... because I saw you on the street last night. I saw what he was doing to you... and I just, I just snapped. I couldn't fucking believe what he was doing to you, and you couldn't get away... I just. I just had to save you." His voice cracked, a lump in his throat as he felt like he was about to cry.

"YOU!? You saw me on the street?" Bart's eyes got wide, his mouth agape. "You're the Green Arrow?!"

"Shit. That wasn't exactly the magical reveal I wanted." Oliver mumbled... embarrassed to have given up his secret so easily.

A moment of stunned silence was passed between the two.

Oliver finally spoke, "So now you know why I can't in good conscience let you go back out there. Please, Bart... please stay." He begged the boy.

Bart sighed contemplatively. He hated the pitying look in the older man's eyes. He was disgusted, knowing that this guy had bared witness to the previous night's events. He gave one more glance to the man standing before him... the way he looked so scared for him. Someone hadn't given that kind of impression in a long time, an impression that he was worth something.

" One night. I'll stay for one night."

Oliver gave him a huge smile, feeling sort of like a big brother for the first time. He'd always wanted a younger sibling. Someone to keep him company when his parents were away on business trips. Someone to hold his hand during their funeral. Someone to tell his secrets, and who could tell him theirs. "Bart?"

"Yeah?"

"Do you want your pants back now?"

(A/N: I know this chapter wasn't exact eventful. No need to fret though, dear reader- stay tuned for more excitement!)