Author's Note: Flog me, I've been gone so long! Also! Go to and search for the artist: Wunderwulfe! She drew a picture from the last chappie, and it's great! If you can't find it then type in Casity and look at the favorites, it's there too! It's my favorite drawing! It inspires me!
Warning: A bit of abuse here and there, wish I could word that a little differently. Nothing in detail, so it's not so bad. XD
"When the rain comes it seems that everyone has gone away. When the night falls you wonder if you shouldn't find some place to run and hide, escape the pain. Hiding is such a lonely thing to do. I can't stop the rain from falling down on you again. No, I can't stop the rain, but I can hold you till it goes away. When the rain comes you blame it on the things that you have done. When the storm fades you'll know that the rain must fall on everyone. So rest awhile, it'll be alright. No one loves you like I do."
Third Day When the Rain Comes
Ghosts in the Closets:
By: The BatThing
Chapter Ten:
The guard was scared. He paced a lot, talked to himself, and gave the two he was guarding nervous looks. The fact that he had been caught dozing when Sigmund had came worried him, it worried him a lot. He looked pale as he turned on his heels, walking back across the length of the hall, eyes shifting across the floor. Bruce watched in silence, thinking of how to properly use this situation. Tim, on the other hand, sat in the corner of the cell, staring at the wall – staring into nothing.
It had only been an hour since Sigmund had come and gone, and nothing had happened. It was as if the day might pass without any special events … then again, the day wasn't done yet.
"Are you alright?" Bruce sat still, not moving from where he sat, not willing to risk anything.
The guard jumped a little and looked at the man he was guarding, then down the hall. He didn't say anything, just moved back to his chair and sat down. He stayed put for a few seconds but then hurried to his feet, and then sat back down – running a hand through his hair. "Oh god."
Tim was watching from the corner of his eye now, things were starting to happen – and he wasn't sure if that was good or bad.
The man at the bars stared at the ceiling and chewed on his lip, deep in thought. He sat for close to ten minutes, and then got to his feet – approaching the bars. His face held a determined look, and he stared right into Bruce's eyes. "He's going to kill me, so you gotta' know, I didn't want to do this. A bunch of us were offered a simple job – stealing things. I agreed, I can do small time crime, but not something like this. I got a wife and two kids, I would never hurt … I'm one of the few that Mr. Hedda didn't connect. Most of the guards are wired – controlled; you won't get any help from them."
The sound of footsteps, people running down the hall – yelling. Bruce was now on his feet, eyes wide and staring at the simple guard who was telling them so much.
"In their ears, you'll see it – Hedda doesn't have anything against you. That's what I hear. He's a business man, nothing more and nothing less. Wants big money, so he called all the big shots around the world to price you off, get good money for you. I don't know much, but I do know that he isn't the one in -."
BLAM.
The guard fell to the ground, hands holding his stomach and he whimpered like a baby. Another guard came then, and gave the traitor a kick in the head. A few others came to the area, holding their guns and simply staring at the man on the ground bleeding. Then Sigmund came into the center, smiling at Bruce and Tim. "Mr. Antonio, you have told so much to our prisoners, I take it you were trying to be a hero? Well, thank you for that, I am sure it will do them absolutely no good. Now, before you die, I just wanted to say that your family will be brought here. I want to meet the people you care so much for, and then. Who knows, maybe I will have the boy here do it."
Antonio couldn't say anything, he was dragged away crying and holding his gapping wounds.
"Take the boy out and put him in the cell here. You -." Sigmund pointed to one of the guards that looked especially upset. "You are now stationed here. Work the boy over, show Mr. Wayne what will happen if he tries anything."
"Yes sir."
Bruce moved back, stepping in front of Tim and shaking his head at Sigmund. "I already know what will happen, Hedda, you don't need to prove any point. I understand."
Sigmund smiled and inclined his head. "Make sure to drug Mr. Wayne before entering the cell. I have a feeling that he will not be working very well with us. And … before I leave I think we should talk." The man moved towards the bars, motioning for Bruce to come forward, but the man did no such thing. "You prove to be troublesome and I will have the other boy brought here, and I will make his life miserable."
"I believe you, there is no point that needs to be proven, sir." Bruce did what he could to sound agreeable, he couldn't let them do this. Not this. "I won't be any trouble. There is no need to move Tim away."
Mr. Hedda simply turned and walked away, leaving the newly assigned guard to stare at his two new jobs. He didn't move at first, just looked Bruce over in silence.
"I wouldn't come in here if I were you."
The guard pulled out the tranquilizer gun and silently waved it about. "You so much as make a move towards me, and well, Mr. Hedda will just make matters worse for you. The kid will end up worse off than what he would have." A lifted his gun and before Bruce could utter a disagreement, pulled the trigger.
Bruce let himself be hit, and he felt bad for it. Tim didn't say anything as the man slipped to the ground after a few short moments. The boy just watched as if it were normal. Bruce just couldn't bear it … the thought that helping Tim would mean making things worse. He couldn't bear not being able to do anything … and they'd bring Dick in. They couldn't bring in Dick. Dick was … Dick …
"Lookit, lookit!"
"Dick?"
"Don't you see it? Look! It's still breathin'! It's going to be alright!" The smile of an eleven year old, he was crouched down by the small baby bird. His jeans were grass stained, and his bare feet as brown as the earth they rested on. "Bruce!"
"…Dick."
Small hands holding the small and flightless bird, lifting it towards the sky – towards the sun, never willing to believe something like this could be shattered. "Fly, bird, just like your mama! She's up there waitin' for you."
And while Bruce Wayne lie, drugged into sleep, dreaming of precious memories – remembering faded smiles - Tim Drake was crying as quietly as he could under the constant pain being directed at him.
MCMCMCMCMCMCMCMCMCMCMCMCMCMCMCMCMCMCMCMCMCMCMCMCMCMC
"Fish are like broken glass in the sun."
Bruce Wayne sat up with a start, looking around as the world around him slowly came into view – made sense. He started to remember, dreams faded fast. The faces he had seen became like ghosts, vanishing and leaving the man haunted. "Dick?"
No. Bruce shook his head, still feeling the effects of the drug in his system. His head throbbed as he forced himself to stand, looking around the darkened room. He shuttered a cough. "Tim."
Nothing, just the dark shadows etched across the wall, slowly moving and saying nothing. They company they gave was as real as their forms. He forced himself towards the bars, coughing as he did so, wondering why his throat felt so tight.
"Fish are like broken glass in the sun. They shimmer under water, Bruce. When they talk, I bet they sound like wind chimes."
"Looks like he's unconscious, Wayne, now keep it down." The guard was positioned in the chair, glaring at the man. "Stop being so … insensitive of others. I bet little Tim is worn out from his long day he spent."
"Where is he?"
"Right there." The guard lifted his hand and pointed to the cell to the left of Bruce. The man moved towards it, thankful that bars acted as the divider – and not some cold and thick stone wall.
The man squinted, forced himself to see through the layers of dark, and he made out the still figure of his 15-year-old partner. Tim was facing him, but whether he was awake or asleep – the man just couldn't tell. It was too dark to see, to dark to know. "Tim?"
The figure shifted a little, but nothing was said.
"Tim."
"You dreamed." The soft voice could barley be heard, and from the sounds of it – the boy was hoarse. His voice cracked with just the two words, and faded away quickly.
"Are you alright?"
"Shit, why the hell would he be alright?" The guard was glaring all the same. "Stop asking shit-dumb questions."
There was a moment of silence and Tim whimpered a little, doing his best to sit up. The boy wasn't using his left arm. He held it tight to his chest. Without any word, Tim crawled towards the bars where Bruce was crouched. When the teenager came into the light, it was hard for the billionaire not to show surprise. The boy was beaten and bruised, covered in blood – an eye swollen, lip swollen.
"…What did you dream about?"
Bruce stretched his arms through the bars, his hand smoothed across Tim's sore face. The boy winced a little and it hurt to see. "I'll fucking kill you before this is over." Bruce growled, turning to the guard and getting to his feet. "You and Hedda, Karl, all of you."
The guard fell silent, at a loss for words.
"Maybe you feel safe, but I'll get out and I'll kill you."
"I wouldn't be talking, man. Mr. Hedda says if you act up he'll get your other kid." The man was gripping his gun nevertheless.
Bruce stared him down a bit longer, and then turned back to Tim – sitting on the floor in front of the boy and ignoring the startled look.
"Do you know what wind chimes sound like? Mom says that there isn't a sound like it in the world. She says it's the sound between summer and autumn, when the leaves are thinking about turning color, when the black walnuts start to fall, a time when something good meets something good – and nobody knows what to call it."
"Bruce?"
The man looked at the boy before him and nodded, clutching nothing, fists tight as they rested against the cool stone ground. "Where does it hurt the most? Did they break anything?"
"I – uh – I guess my arm, but it's just bruised up a bit. I think it'll be fine, just hurts to move it. Nothing broken here, nothing yet at least." Tim forced a partial smile. "I'm not too worried, well, I hope that Antonio guy is alright."
"Me too."
"You're worried about Dick, aren't you?" Tim's eyes were soft, but underneath the innocent question was a sort of hurt that couldn't be expressed. There was a jealousy almost, something that the boy didn't want to feel, but he couldn't help it. "You kept calling his name while you were sleeping."
The man shook his head, looking at Tim and not seeing beyond the question asked. "He's a responsible young man, of course I worry, but I think Dick can hold his own. I've just been remembering a lot of things he use to say. Things that seemed annoying then, but now – they start to make sense."
The broken teenager listened in silence, wishing with everything that he wasn't feeling so sad. He was the one who had been hurt, he was the one who was suffering … and Bruce was thinking of Dick. "I miss Dick too."
A look followed by a nod. Bruce did his best to smile, but knew it was a worthless attempt. He couldn't smile, not now … especially not now, but he tried – like Tim tried. He felt so sleepy. The man put his hands between the bars and brushed a hand through Tim's hair. "You're both so … different."
Tim was silent as Bruce backed away from the bars and nodded to the boy opposing him.
"I think … I'm still drugged." And he lay on the floor, falling asleep without much time wasted.
"Different." Slinking down, Tim got as close to the bars as he could, forcing his body up against them and wishing he could break them. Bruce was out cold, and it was a strange sight. Bruce sleeping soundly - dreaming. Tim moved his arm through the bars and moved it against his guardian. Just the slight touch, knowing that he wasn't all alone, knowing that there was someone right next to him, it helped. Tim squeezed his eyes shut and tried to block out the pain. He focused on his arm resting against Bruce, reminding himself that the monsters weren't real. That dark would go away, and the shadows would fade, leaving nothing but the warm touch of the sun.
It was a pleasant thing to think.
To be continued …
Fae Child19: I'm honored! If you aren't a big batman fan and you like it, well, that's just awesome! Glad you stumbled on it again, just know I'm sorry it took so long to update. Ehm, lol. That's sort of awkward that it took me practically half a year! I should be gutted or something. ;-) Thanks for the kind words and review, It's always a treat to get people who like your story because they like it. It's really great.
Lpgohanfanatic: Define 'update soon', lol. I'm so awful Woo, just realized I'm listening to sad music still. I think it's time to switch to a little Chika-Cherry-Cola, compliments of Savage Garden, lol. There, that lightens my mood. Thanks again for the review, and sorry it too me so long. I'll just use the excuse that I was turned into a werewolf? Hmm, almost. XD
The Bat-Ninja: Loyal fans, lol, that's pretty cool. I have a feeling people are going to start not being loyal since I took forever and a day to make the next chapter. And here is the sad news … I wrote this in like, a few hours. Hmm, I suck. Just shot me. I'll drink Gatorade and wonder and reflect on reasons I couldn't write this. LOL, thanks so much!
IndianneJones101: I did E-mail you about the fan character, right? I think I did, 'cause I meant to! I remember reading that and thinking I needed to E-mail you! I'd love to read what you've got, I'd be honored to read it. I'm like, in the air and floating with this story. I have an ending, but the middle is mush. You know? I'd be happy for suggestions, even if I can't work them in, I'd love to read what you wrote! I totally mean that. Thanks so much for asking!
RobinIV: This time this chapter wasn't an all nighter … it was an all … two hourer? Something like that, lol. Glad you enjoyed the last chapter. This one finally is done, lets hope chapter Eleven won't take me twenty months just to get written, ha!
Candleblaise: HEY! I remember you! Do you remember me? Probably not, 'cause I've been gone forever. Hmm. I need to work on that. I hope you aren't too mad it too me this long, I don't know what kept me from writing, I just couldn't get things to flow – you know? I just couldn't write what I wanted to read, and it was all bleck. Glad inspiration finally came, lol.
Zantac the Barbarian: I've decided to marry you, lolirl, you made me laugh so hard when I read what you wrote! That's the funniest review ever. Funny and sadly … true. I was thinking about my bad habit of not updating fast and you came to mind. It inspired me to write this chapter … and not a thing in Spring Break. That story is dead like my ramen noodles. I'll keep trying at it, but it's hard to write! You keep me laughing though, and who knows – maybe I'll get inspired! Tips hat
Trunksblue: Hey girl! Gah, I updated! After having my writing spree in OSPoMT, it's about time I got workin' on this one, right? LOL. I'd say so. It's sort of boring though, tell me if you think of any good ideas I can include in this … 'cause frankly, it's bland. You know? It's like: DRAMA! And there is no more life to the story. I mean, I know what I want, but it's like dragging and lacking. Hmm. Talk to you, son – father. LOL, good joke, good joke.
Caerula: I should have been hunted down and killed by this point, lol. The college part was inspired by my college self. I want to buy a cake and eat it. I hate being a girl, I do! I want something more than diets and exercise! I want to live a life filled with cake and icecream, MnMs, and pizza … hmm. I wish I were a boy and could eat like a criminal. LOL.