Disclaimer: I do not own Batman or any of the DC Multiverse. Story contains mature situations and whatnot. Later Bird/Flash or MalexMale, if such stories are not your forte, then do not read this story. I don't how how you would have gotten this far in the first place without knowing where I was headed with everything, but this is my warning to you xD
AN: This chapter is a bit different, I'm trying something new so don't just stop reading after the first paragraph. I do get back to Dick, so don't flame me. Woot for dual story development!
Jason pressed his forehead against the window to his room, staring out at the rainy Gotham skies, distracted by thoughts of his parents keeping him from going to bed at the reasonable hour set by his temporary foster parents. He had been shuffled from home to an orphanage and then to the foster home he was currently in with five other kids around his age. He would have rather stayed with his drugged up mother then being moved around like the cattle he felt like. His father was gone, killed in prison during a riot, and every other night the young boy would come home to see his mother passed out on the floor of their crappy apartment, drooling with eyes wide trained at the ceiling. Yet he still felt that was a better place than the orphanage and foster care.
At least with her he had his freedom and a room of his own. One of Jason's foster brothers grunted in his sleep and kicked him, scooting over more onto Jason's designated space. The boy scowled and kicked back at the kid, trying to gain some of his personal space back. At least with his mother he had his own twin sized bed on the floor of the living room.
The other boys snored now and then, never leaving the room silent for more than a second. Jason curled in on himself and placed a hand to the cold glass of the window, wanting nothing more than to leave right then and there, despite the rain and cold temperature. He would risk a cold if it meant getting away from the weird family that hosted him. The mother always looked down on him with contempt while the father seemed not to notice, too busy watching him and his foster brothers. The two didn't have any kids of their own that they hadn't taken in from one orphanage or another, and Jason could tell that they had hosted a good number kids. He guessed mostly boys, however, telling by the majority of toy trucks and sports equipment and lack of dolls or tea sets.
A quiet knock on the door to the room made Jason turn quickly to the source, seeing his foster father peeking in. Jason was sure that the man was trying to have something to do, since his wife was out of town for the next couple of nights on a conference of some sort, and decided he would check on the boys. "Jason? Why are you still awake?" He asked in a hushed tone.
Jason shrugged, knowing he couldn't tell the man he had been sulking over his hatred for him and his wife. "Can't sleep."
"Oh, well would you like me to make you some hot cocoa?" Jason perked up slightly at the prospect of a warm drink.
"Yea." He said, jumping soundlessly to the floor next to his shared twin bed.
His foster father's brows drew upwards some, "You're pretty graceful, Jason."
"I know how to be quiet," he replied, padding toward the older male, looking up to him. The man was just a little taller than twice Jason's height and of medium build with dirty blonde hair and brown eyes.
"Come along, I'll make you that drink."
Jason followed the man into the kitchen and jumped up to the bar stool, his legs dangling over the side. He watched his foster father's back while he started to pull out the cocoa packets and milk, "You want it with milk, right?"
"Mhm." Jason spun on the stool, making himself dizzy while he waited, paying no mind to the man across the room from him. When the warm drink was presented to him, Jason stuck a digit into it to test the temperature. He deemed it warm but not scalding and took a big first gulp. An unexpected bitterness made the boy's face instantly scrunch together, "It tastes weird, like the milk is bad or something."
The foster father leaned back on the counter, watching Jason intently. "Really? maybe it's just bitter because you brushed your teeth before bed. Try another mouthful," he suggested.
Jason looked into the cup, twirling the spoon in it for a second before taking another sip, this time a smaller one. Jason shook his head, feeling his mind fogging over, "No... it's still bad..." He got down slowly from the stool and placed the cup on the counter, swaying some.
"You alright?" The foster father crouched in front of Jason, taking ahold of the boy's slender hips, the worry in his voice not coming across in his expression whatsoever.
"No, I..." Jason's vision blurred and he looked up to the elder man, "you put something in the drink," he accused, trying to get free of the man's grip.
Surprise lit up the man's features for a moment before a knowing smile took over, "clever boy. Though you won't remember the past twenty minutes, so I'm in the clear." He gripped Jason's hips tighter and watched as the boy's eyes slid closed and his body went limp.
Jason was shaken awake by one of his younger foster brother's in the early morning, his head pounding painfully. "Let me sleep, snot." He groaned at the boy, burying his face into his corner of the pillow.
"No! Jason wake up! I wanna play! No one else will play with me, I come on! It's really late already, why are you still in bed? Jason, Jason, Jason, Jason, Jasooooooooooon!"
Jason palmed the kid's face, trying to get him to stop making sounds, "Shuddup, alarm."
"Jason, it's time to get up." Shivers ran down his spine when he heard his foster father's voice, an unconscious response. The boy looked up at the dirty blonde, noticing a knowing smile playing on his lips. He couldn't tell why he had shivered, or why he was getting a strange vibe from the man, but he didn't like the churning in his stomach when he laid his eyes on the man It did not help either that. Jason was unable to recall anything that had happened the night before. "You alright, Jason? Something the matter?"
Jason stared at him, trying to figure out what it was about his foster father that had him on edge. He sat up and winced some when a slight pain stung through him when he did so. "I don't want to get up." What's happened to me? Something isn't right... He thought to himself.
"Well you can't waste the day away. It's already noon, you shouldn't stay up so late, you're lucky it's Saturday. Go do your chores then you get to play with your brothers."
Jason slowly moved to the edge of the bed and placed his feet on the ground. He stood slowly and grabbed ahold of the night stand to steady himself when his legs gave in some to weakness. His foster father watched him like a hawk from the door, his arms crossed over his chest. He watched as the boy limped slightly, testing himself. He could tell that Jason was confused, but he knew the boy didn't have a clue about anything. He smirked some and left, going to the kitchen to make some bread with jelly for the lunch.
Jason lowered himself to the floor next to his bed and pulled out his backpack from under the mattress. He always kept a bag of a few things from home, as well as a couple changes of clothes and a small pocket knife. Jason hid the knife in the pocket of his jeans and took the clothes to the bathroom, wanting to change in privacy so he could check himself for hints as to what had happened to him.
The door to the bathroom didn't have a lock, so Jason grabbed the door jam and shoved it into place as firmly as he could before undressing. He looked in the mirror over the counter and grunted when he couldn't see below his ribs with the high surface. Jason climbed up next to the sink and and turned his back to the mirror before dropping his boxers to examine the source of his pain. Jason looked over his shoulder to see if he could spot anything unusual, wondering if it was just a bug bite or an embarrassing pimple. Although he found nothing of the sort, Jason noticed some darkening marks on his thighs about the size of fingers. Jason shook his head in disbelief, trying to dismiss the forming bruises, trying to qualify them as a result of rough housing the day before or earlier in the week. "I don't remember anything that could have caused these bruises.." He tried to reason through the markings, but he could tell that they were new. Less than a day old. Suspicion gripped him and he knew he would have to find the source of the bruises, and he had a bad feeling his foster father had some role in their development.
Bruce narrowed his eyes at the monitors before him. He didn't like that Jason had been moved out of one of his orphanages and into a foster home. He hadn't ever really liked the foster system, he knew that the funds he provided the orphanages were put to better use for the kids, unlike the money foster parents made off of the children they took in.
The disgruntled detective pulled Jason's file again and read over the details given there. Of course he knew about the boy's parents,he knew that Jason was an only child as well as the fact that he had spent some time taking apart cars and selling the pieces illegally. Bruce knew next to everything he possibly could about Jason, aside from what he was like to be around and how he interacted with others. The billionaire sympathized with the kid - he hadn't been allowed to see his mother once during the entire time away from home, and Bruce knew the boy would be anxious to get back to her despite the emotional abuse he was sure to endure.
Alfred stepped to Bruce's side with a cup of hot coffee, as the Bat had requested. He did not, however, speak to Bruce. In fact, he hadn't spoken to Bruce whenever it possible for him to get away with it, since the drama with Dick several hours ago.
Bruce looked up to Alfred and took the drink. "You're not going to talk to me until I talk to Dick, that it?" He asked, looking up at his butler. Alfred made no response. He simply tucked the silver tray under his arm and turned to leave. "Alfred, wait. You cannot honestly blame me for reacting the way I did to what Dick had said..."
"As a matter of fact I can, Master Bruce. I saw the state that boy was in, how distraught he was. You refuse to right the wrong you have done him and instead go to watching over the other boy you have your sights set on. If Master Richard could see you now... see how you have responded to his bravery in coming out to you... I would fear for his well being even more so than I do already. You may feel you have done nothing wrong, when you are in fact, the singular being in the wrong tonight." Alfred silenced himself again and left despite Bruce calling after him. He had broken his oath to himself that he would not speak to Bruce until the man apologized to Dick, or at least made some attempt to quell the aching heart of the young boy.
Dick sat in the tub in the bathroom just off of his room, staring at the marred flesh of his right thigh. He touched the blade of the modified batarang his skin just next to the cut and pressed down, watching the skin move back from the gap, drawing out more blood. The little bird dropped the blade to the tub and ran water over his cut before lathering his hands in soap. carefully the bird moved his hands over the cut and winced when the wound stung for a second.
"Friggin just do it..." He chided himself, biting the inside of his cheek, "you've sustained far worse." Dick finished treating his cut and wrapped bandages around his leg, tight enough that they wouldn't bunch too much under his pants. He didn't want anyone to suspect anything, after all. He cleaned out the tub and washed the batarang before putting it away as well and slid back into his pajamas. "What am I going to do..? I have to go back to school tomorrow... Those boys are going to make a big deal out of everything that happened..."
With a heavy sigh Dick made his way to his bed and layed on his left side, keeping off of his right leg to be sure and let the cut be. He didn't want to bleed through the bandages and ruin his expensive navy sheets, that would draw unwanted attention from Alfred.
The young bird stared up through his window at the moon, watching it as he tried to swallow the days events and repress the pain he still felt. What Bruce had said came back up and bit at Dick, tearing down the boys defenses with the harsh words. "I just have to sleep... tomorrow, none of this will have happened. I can pretend that things are fine with Bruce..." He gripped onto his right thigh, squeezing over the bandages and closing his eyes when the pressure he applied shot pain up through his leg.
Alfred prepared Dick's breakfast with extra care the next morning, adding some powdered sugar to the top of his pancakes and circling them with cut up strawberries, along with a smaller plate of bacon and one scrambled egg. He brought the food out to Dick as he sat waiting silently at the dining table, in his usual seat to Bruce's right. The butler placed the food before the boy and smiled gently to him before leaving to bring back Bruce's breakfast. A simple plate of pancakes with eggs, but without the extra flourish Dick's plate got.
Bruce grunted after he looked at Dick's plante and then his own, however he made no other verbal remark. The three of them sat in an awkward silence, the previous day's events darkening the atmosphere in the room. Bruce didn't know what to say to his son, Alfred didn't want to intrude on Dick, and Dick didn't want to break the silence with some misplaced remark. Instead he ate slowly, not quite feeling hungry. He poked at the strawberries some, anxious about not finishing his plate with fervor like he thought Alfred wanted.
"Master Richard? Are you not hungry?" Asked the tentative butler.
"Sorry Alfred. It all looks so nice, but I'm just not..."
"Oh that's alright, don't force yourself. When you're ready I can start the car to take you to school." Dick simply nodded in response, acknowledging what the butler had said.
After a long silence Bruce cleared his throat and spoke, "You still have Judo in gym today?"
Dick looked up at his father, a little surprised to hear him speak. "Yes."
"Maybe today you allow yourself a bit more skill to show through. If those boys give you a hard time, don't be afraid to show them you're not to be messed with. You're a Wayne after all..."
A smile spread across Dick's face when he registered what Bruce had said. He nodded, "Thanks. I'll keep that in mind."
Alfred smiled just a little, glad to see some progress on Bruce's part. He could tell that the billionaire had been working over what to say to the boy, and although it wasn't groundbreaking, it was sincere and it was Bruce's way of saying to Dick that he still loved him. He was reaching his limit on displaying affection after all, and Alfred knew Dick could see that. However he knew that there was still progress to be made. Bruce hadn't made up for much of what had transpired the previous night, but it was a start.
AN2: Tell me what you guys thought! I always love feedback! Thank you everyone who has followed me this far, I have so much planned for this story, and I hope everyone is just as excited to read on as I am about writing more. ~ til next chapter