Ten - Detox

He had first considered Dick's home, but instinct told him no and a quick check with Babs confirmed this. It had taken a few minutes to find the location of Haly's, but the circus was touring in Europe. That left…

Wayne Manor.

Batman had called ahead, but Alfred reported no signs of Dick on the surveillance cameras. That wasn't necessarily conclusive - Dick of all people knew where they were and how to avoid them – but something drew Bruce to check the only place that wasn't under cameras.

In respect not so much of the dead, but of the grief for them.

And there he was.

Covered in soot and ash, hair hanging in matted strands, the boy was finally still, staring down at the graves with such intensity. His clothes were torn and dirty and several dark patches that could only be dried blood stained the cloth.

"Dick."

The boy turned, eyes widening as he realised who it was.

Bruce pushed back the cowl and stepped forward. He laid a hand on Dick's arm. He felt no heat through the glove. Dick was probably freezing.

He took off his cape and draped it around his shoulders. The young man stood as still as a statue.

"Dick?"

Dick looked down at his feet, avoiding his eyes. "I'm sorry." It came out as a mumble.

"You did what you had too."

"I never thought… When I blew that place up, it didn't occur to me you might think I was inside."

He remembered his panic, berated himself for its hold over him, even now. "You weren't thinking clearly, Dick. It's the drug." Strange how none of the turmoil inside him made it into his voice. He didn't even have to try to hide it anymore; it just came as natural as breathing.

"Sometimes-" But Dick's admission snapped off as if he was trying to keep the words back.

Bruce waited. He knew his silent response was more likely to make Dick finish that sentence than all the verbal coaxing in the world.

Dick finally looked up. "Sometimes…" he began. How easy it was push the boy to fall back into patterns – mentor and student, guardian and ward. "Sometimes I think…this is the only time I've ever been thinking clearly."

He hadn't expected that. "It's the drug, twisting what think, what you feel." He counselled. "It's not real."

"Isn't it?" There was anger in his voice. "Or is it just stopping me from rationalising everything and making me see things as they really are?" He turned away. "I'm pumped full of drugs, Bruce! And all I can think of is catching the bad guys? Nothing else mattered, but me out there, chasing up a name I heard once! And then it starts to spill over and I need-" He choked on the memory. "I need someone to….to make it go away… I don't turn to Babs because she'd notice I'm different and call you! And I didn't want that to happen for so many reasons that I don't even want to think about but most of all, because Bludhaven is my town and I need to save it, no matter what." He whirled around, pushing his face right into Bruce's – so very close – no way to avoid those accusing eyes. "Do you have any idea how fucked up that is?"

Yes.

But the word went unspoken.

Of course he knew. That was his life, his values... He had come to terms with that a long time ago.

And he had handed them down to Dick just as surely as he would one day hand him Wayne Enterprises.

I'm sorry.

He would do it all again in a heartbeat.

-----

Silence.

Why did he bother sometimes? Bruce wouldn't understand. He never did. He was a good man, Dick loved him with all his heart and soul but he had learned long ago that there was place inside Bruce you couldn't touch, couldn't reach. You either learned to live with that, or you walked away.

And Dick had never been able to walk away.

He turned his back on his mentor, anger dying as quickly as it had grown. He pressed his face into his hands. "I'm so tired." He muttered, almost to himself.

He ached with it, burned with it…but sleep was a long way off. The drug in his system would see to that and the only thing that would take it away, the only cure for this…was more meth.

He felt a hand on his shoulder. "You stopped this drug from spreading." Bruce said.

No, he didn't understand.

Run away from feelings. Talk business instead.

Screw that.

"Bruce you don't get it." And although he had meant to snap the words, it simply came out as tired. He looked up at the man who been so intrinsic to him that he didn't know where this man's beliefs began and his own ended. "Right at the end there, I stopped caring! I didn't destroy Blue for Bludhaven." He turned to face Bruce again. "I destroyed it for me."

He waited. Nothing. Not a flicker.

"I didn't want to be tempted to take it again," he admitted.

Concern appeared in Bruce's eyes and it warmed him.

"And I was." Just a whisper. "I am."

Bruce clasped the back of his neck, heat against his cold skin. "Then you made the right choice, Dick. For you and for Bludhaven."

He felt Bruce shift then a sharp scratch made him pull away fast. He caught a brief glimpse of the syringe in Bruce's hand.

He rubbed the sore spot on his arm. "Bruce?"

"It's time to come home, Dick."

No, no… Bruce was running away again.

You either learned to live with that, or you walk away…

Anger crashed in on him. Well maybe he was done living with it.

Walk away…

But his legs tangled up as the two different drugs in his system warred and he fell, landing on his knees in the freezing grass.

----

Bruce knelt beside the ungraceful heap. The boy raised his head to look at him and the tears in his eyes surprised him.

"I'm already home, Bruce." He sounded so tired. "Right here, right now…with you…"

The boy slumped against him, solid and whole, but so very cold. His eyelids flickered, fighting the massive dose of tranquiliser and Bruce had to strain to hear his last whisper.

"Don't you get that...?"

------

He awoke to the feel crisp linen against his skin, a sensation so familiar and so full of yesterday that he stayed as he was, eyes closed, reluctant to leave the warmth of the bed and of the memories.

But as he came more awake and more aware, the aches in various overused limbs began to make themselves known. His body felt like he had gone ten rounds with every single meta in the northern hemisphere and he doubted there was a single muscle he hadn't pulled.

Alfred, in that supernatural way of his, immediately came in with a tray loaded with food. "Good afternoon, Master Dick."

He sat up in the bed. "I slept all day, huh?"

"And all day yesterday." The butler smiled placing the tray across Dick's lap. "You've been asleep for almost 54 hours. Dr Thompkins assures me that's perfectly normal."

Dick picked up a slice of toast and bit into it. "Andrews'll have a fit."

"Detective Andrews? Master Bruce informed him of your convalescence here." Alfred said as he poured Dick a cup of tea. "You are not expected back at work for another week."

Dick sighed and reached for the tea. Now it would be common knowledge he was a Rich Boy.

"Where's Bruce?"

"Master Bruce had some business to attend too, but I will contact him forthwith. No doubt he will be relieved to hear of your recovery."

"When will he be back?"

The butler looked nervous, just for a split second, but Dick caught it. He guessed what Alfred would say before he heard the words.

"Not for the rest of week, I'm afraid." He said. "The matter has taken him to Saudi Arabia. Now, I believe Dr Thompkins said she would give you a physical as soon as you were able…"

Dick slumped back on the pillows and let Alfred's voice fade into the background.

Running again, Bruce…

----

"Knock, knock."

Dick turned to see Clancy standing in his doorway with a nervous smile on her face. He had made the mistake of leaving the door half-open. She must have heard him come in and followed. He really didn't want to deal with this right now.

"Hello, Dick." She said, when his lack of response became obvious. Her Irish brogue didn't attract him like it used too.

I used her.

He came forward. "Clancy, I-"

She put up her hand. "I came to say goodbye." She said. "I'm leavin' in few days."

That stopped him.

"Don't go lookin' like that now." She forced a smile. "It's got very little ta do with you, an' everythin' ta do with me. It's somethin' I've been thinkin' on a while now. The other night just kind of cleared things up fer me."

"I didn't mean…" But his voice trailed off.

She didn't seem to notice though, and he got the feeling her words were well rehearsed and interruptions would only put her off and cause her pain. "Now it's not that I regret what happened between us, but I…I get the feelin' that you'll be the one regrettin' it sooner or later."

"I don't regret it." He told her and meant it. "I regret a lot of this last week, but not that." He couldn't meet her eyes. "I should. But I don't."

She was so near him. And it would be so easy to kiss her. She'd let him. He knew she would.

She stepped back.

"I have some…chores to do." She held out her hand. "It's been a real pleasure meeting ya, Mr Grayson."

He shook her hand. "Good luck."

He watched her go then sank down onto the sofa. If he hadn't been so tired, he would have followed her, tried to make her understand.

But he was. So he didn't. And in the end, what would platitudes do for her? But make him feel better.

On the seat beside him was his bag. More to give himself something to do than an actual attack of tidiness, he opened it and began to unpack.

Alfred had washed and pressed his clothes, even though he had no intention of ever wearing them again. He picked them up and something fell from the pile. It landed at his feet.

He looked down. The baggie of blue crystals lay accusingly on the carpet.

He remembered picking it up before he'd rigged the Bunsen's to set off an explosion. Alfred must have found them in his pocket and undoubtedly knew what they were.

And yet he had left them there.

He had left the choice up to Dick.

The young man sighed. Then slipped them in his pocket.

---

To be concluded…