Ya'll are gonna hate me for this chapter... but don't worry! Nobody dies!! At least not yet... muahaha... XD
Broken Glass
Chapter Twenty-Four: Alone in the Dark
For nearly two months, Dick was stuck in the hospital, and it was all too rare that you'd be lucky enough to walk in on him when he was in a good mood. Some of Dick's friends—most notably Oliver Queen—found the boy's attitude too much to take and quit coming around. Ollie's ward, Roy, hadn't even bothered to visit at all after hearing some of the others' 'horror stories'. Nobody could blame them, really. That wasn't to say they approved of Ollie and Roy's lack of contact with Dick, but they could certainly understand their reluctance to visit the moody teenager.
Dick blamed himself for their continued absence. He knew he was being difficult, but he couldn't help it. And he hated himself for it.
He never dared to voice these feelings.
Luckily, there were so many others—like Clark and Barbara and, of course, Bruce—who proved that they were just as stubborn as Dick was. They kept visiting no matter what mood Dick was in.
The good news was that Dick seemed to be making a real effort to recover. He had expressed horror upon realizing how thin he'd allowed himself to become, and he was also gaining weight at a steady pace. He hated every pound of it, but apparently, the fact that he was gaining weight at all was enough to satisfy the hospital staff.
As soon as Dick hit ninety-one pounds, he was released.
But I don't feel any different, Dick thought, confused, as Bruce helped him into the car that wet and rainy evening.
Quit griping… you're out of the hospital, aren't you? But just look at you… fatter, uglier, and more pathetic than ever… you know what you have to do, and you'd better do it fast…
But I don't want to!
Okay, fine then… don't do anything… keep on being the hideous thing you are now… everybody hates you and you know the only way to change that is to do what I tell you… but okay, you don't want to be thin, fine then, don't…
Dick closed his eyes and dug his nails into his palms as hard as he could. A lot of good that hospital stay had done—he'd just wasted two months of his life, here it was August already, and those stupid Voices were still there. Okay, so they weren't quite as strong as they had been before starting the treatment, but they were still there and still very convincing.
Bruce glanced over at the boy sitting next to him, watching the conflicting emotions play across his face. He knew what Dick was thinking. He was thinking about what he should do when he got home, whether he should eat his dinner like a good little boy or refuse to touch any of it. He was thinking about whether he should sit down and read a book or run upstairs to the bathroom to throw up what he'd eaten that day.
I should have put locks on the bathroom doors, Bruce thought, returning his eyes to the road. In fact, that's what he had wanted to do in the first place, but Alfred had talked him out of it. Bruce hadn't really been listening—after all, when Alfred wanted something done his way, it generally got done his way, so what was the point in suffering through the lecture?—but the old man had said something about Master Dick getting enough locks at the hospital. How he'd appreciate not seeing them at home and how he'd do better if they showed him a little kindness instead of more restrictions.
Okay, maybe that was true. But locks wouldn't hurt, either. And not the kind that could be picked open with a pin. No, he had been planning on combination locks with a fingerprint analyzer…
"Home! Finally," Dick proclaimed. He was trying a little too hard to sound cheerful. Bruce noticed but didn't say anything about it. "I swear, there were times when I thought I'd never see this place again."
"Well… this place wasn't the same without you," Bruce admitted.
"Yeah. It was probably a lot quieter."
"Quieter isn't necessarily better."
Dick bit his lip and didn't respond. Did he really believe all this sentimental stuff his mentor was dishing out? No, not really.
With an obvious effort, Dick opened the car door and stepped out into the rain. Alfred would probably have a cow when he found out that Dick wasn't using an umbrella, but Dick didn't really care at the moment. He barely even noticed the rain; he was too busy formulating a plan…
Alfred was waiting for them in the doorway. He chose not to scold Dick for failing to use the umbrella that had been left for him in the back seat of the car.
"Welcome home, young master," the butler greeted with a warm smile.
Dick's mouth twitched a little, like he was trying to smile back, and managed, "Hey, Alfred."
Bruce followed directly behind his ward. He felt like sighing at the subdued manner in which the boy had greeted Alfred. Normally, after returning home after an extended period of time, Dick would be bouncing all over the place in his excitement.
Forget about normal, Bruce chastised himself. Eating disorders are not normal. Normal is what we're aiming for right now.
Meanwhile, Alfred had already looked Dick over to make sure he seemed okay. Then he added, "Dinner will be ready in thirty minutes. We're having steak and potatoes. Will that be alright, sir?"
"Um, sure. Steak sounds fine, Alfred," Dick said, sounding distracted. "In the meantime, I think I'll go up to my room and make sure it's still in the same place. I'll also be checking to make sure you guys didn't auction off my stuff while I was out."
"You should find everything in perfect order, Master Dick."
"It was just a joke… gee…" the teen mumbled, missing the jocular tone in Alfred's voice.
Without waiting for a reply, Dick jammed his hands into his pockets and began to ascend the stairs. He wasn't the only one to notice the lack of energy in his step as he continued the climb.
Man… since when did climbing stairs get this hard? I must be in worse shape than I thought… that's it. First thing tomorrow morning, I'm hitting the gym.
Even as he thought this, Dick knew Bruce would never let him do it.
Dinner went smoothly enough. Dick started out by just pushing his food around his plate, but reluctantly got around to finishing the meal. He refused the offer of dessert. Instead, he asked for permission to head back up to his room, claiming exhaustion.
"Alright then, Master Dick. You may be excused. Good night."
As soon as Dick's footsteps had faded, Bruce stood up from the table and started to follow him.
"Master Bruce…" warned Alfred.
"He's been out of the hospital for all of ninety minutes, Alfred. I want to make sure he doesn't—"
Bruce didn't even bother to finish his sentence when he caught a glimpse of the look on his butler's face.
"He has to know he is trusted," Alfred repeated for what must have been the twentieth time since yesterday.
"I do trust him," Bruce insisted quietly as he sat back down. "It's the eating disorders I don't trust."
---
With tight, robotic movements, Dick slowly reached into the pencil holder in his room. Soon, his fingers hit the object he was looking for—
Diet pills. He'd taken them out of their bottle and hidden them among his writing utensils just days before the virus had infected him. They were a bit dusty now, so Dick took them into the bathroom and quickly rinsed them off.
Dick played with the pills in his hand for a moment. He glanced over at the sink, and then back at the pills.
On impulse, he filled a plastic cup with water and raised the pills to his lips…
…But then he stopped.
He wanted to do it. He wanted to do it so badly—to swallow the stuff and purge his body of the disgustingly fattening dinner he'd been forced to eat. It would be so easy… come on, just a little bit will be enough… go on, just do it… you've been doing it for months, one more time won't hurt…
Sure, 'one more time'. And how many times after that? Does it ever end?
Sure it does, just as soon as you lose a few more pounds… don't let them fool you with all this talk of recovery—they just want you to keep being the ugly thing you are now… c'mon, just one dose… you can do it, it's easy…
But he didn't.
Slowly, carefully, Dick put the cup down and half-ran, half-staggered down the stairs, hoping to get to somebody before he changed his mind.
He found Bruce in the study, going over some papers.
As soon as he heard footsteps, the man turned to see Dick standing in the doorway, suddenly looking very shy and unsure of himself.
This wasn't Dick, he lamented. This was somebody else, somebody he wished would just go away and leave them alone. Dick had suffered enough in his life. He didn't need this.
"Did you want something, chum?"
"I…" Dick started. In the end, though, he couldn't think of what to say and just nodded instead.
Bruce watched patiently as the boy slowly walked up to him and held out his hand. In it was what seemed to be diet pills.
"Take them. I don't want them anymore… well, alright, yes I do want them… just get rid of them for me, will you?"
Bruce reached up and removed the pills from Dick's surprisingly tight grasp, letting his fingers brush up against Dick's for a little longer than necessary.
"Smart choice."
"Yeah," Dick replied with a humorless laugh. "Now tell them that."
He lightly touched the boy's arm, relieved to feel that it wasn't just skin and bones beneath the soft fabric of his shirt anymore.
"You'll make it, kid. You'll make it."
"Sure."
But Dick was clearly skeptical.
Bruce watched him as he turned and left the room. There was so much he wanted to tell the boy… but expressing emotions had never been one of Bruce's strong points. Every time he tried to tell Dick how he felt, something would go wrong, or his words would be misinterpreted and they'd end up fighting instead.
There had to be a way to tell Dick… there had to be.
---
Dick sat cross-legged on the bed with his hands folded so tightly they shook. He stared at the blankets and concentrated on the interlocking threads, following them as they criss-crossed their way to the end of the fabric, and then contrasting the dark blue of the blanket with the pale white skin of his bare feet.
But, in spite of his best efforts, Dick could feel his eyes becoming watery. What now? He knew there would still be regular sessions with his nutritionist and his therapist, and check-ups at the hospital every once in a while, but… until then? What was he supposed to do? He'd already spent two months at that hospital. He had tried to recover—honest!—but everything was still so hard.
Well, okay, he had been able to give up the diet pills.
But he still feared the calories he was being forced to eat, and he still hated the person that looked back at him in the mirror.
What now?
He just felt so…
Alone.
Helpless.
Lost.
Totally and completely lost.
Swallowing hard, Dick stood and made his way over to the balcony. He needed to be out there in the cool evening air for a minute, even if it was still pouring rain outside.
He was almost at the railing when his foot slipped on the wet marble. Dick went down instantly and landed on his stomach. It knocked the wind out of him and nearly resulted in his nose getting broken on the hard ground.
Yelling a curse for the first time in his life, Dick got to his knees, shook his fist at the sky and screamed in a fit of unexplained anger, "What did I ever do to you, huh?! Why does everything always happen to me?! Ohhhhhh, what's the use? Nobody cares… nobody cares…"
Dick squeezed his eyes shut and pressed his fist against his forehead. He gave up on trying to stop the tears and just let himself cry. He needed to, but he didn't want to—he was always acting like such a baby these days; the last thing he needed to do was cry to prove it to himself. There was nothing wrong with crying… except for him.
He wasn't supposed to be crying.
But he couldn't help it. He just felt so empty inside, and the only way he knew of to fill that emptiness was no longer an option unless he wanted to be in therapy for the rest of his life.
Finally, Dick opened his eyes. He took a deep shuddering breath, feeling the rain as it slipped down his cheeks and mingled with the tears.
Then he froze.
Something was there, sitting behind a post at the very edge of the balcony. Something he'd hidden out there months ago and almost forgotten about.
Ipecac.
His frenzied thoughts blurred together with the Voices, who were issuing orders almost faster than he could follow.
Not here, Bruce will find you then, the Tower, that's it, go to the Tower and use it, nobody will find you there…
Dick tried to resist the urge to obey.
And lost.
---
"Garth, you are not listening… Garth?"
The teen shook his head a little and promptly apologized to his senior partner for daydreaming. He knew he should be paying attention. After all, these were some very dangerous villains Arthur was teaching him about. But, no matter how hard he tried, his thoughts kept drifting back to other things.
"You seem preoccupied tonight," the King of the Seas observed. "Is something bothering you, Minnow?"
"Leading the Titans is more difficult than I anticipated," he admitted. "It has been two months since I took over, yet I cannot seem to win Speedy's respect. I have tried everything I can think of, Arthur, but it is not working."
"You know how Speedy can be. He needs time to work this out with himself—we all need a little time."
Aqualad nodded to show he understood, but secretly, he was still frustrated.
"Would you mind if we continue this tomorrow?" the boy requested. "I don't think I can concentrate anymore this evening. Beside that, I really should clean up the Tower before we need it again. Speedy and Kid Flash had a fight and made a bit of a mess this afternoon."
"What were they fighting about?" Aquaman questioned, not sounding very surprised. Those two were not famous for being the best of friends.
"Please forgive me, but I am not at liberty to say. It concerns Titans business, and when we first formed the group, we agreed that we would not discuss our business with those outside the group if others in the group did not want us to."
Plus they both threatened to kill me if I repeated what Speedy said about Robin still being ill because he has no will power…
"Very well," Aquaman consented. "But try not to stay too late."
The boy agreed to these terms and left for the surface—or, more specifically, for the river entrance to the Titans' Tower. From there, it wasn't a very long walk to the rec room.
Aqualad strolled through the halls, glancing about in wonder. He couldn't get used to the place in the dark, even after two months of being the leader and having to turn on the lights for everyone else. In fact, the only other person who had ever regularly seen the place in the dark was probably Robin.
It was odd. Aqualad had never really thought about things like the lights in the Tower before. They were always just… there. Bright and warm and welcoming, reassuring him that he wasn't alone. That he had friends and allies to help him whenever he needed help, or just to talk to when he felt sad about something.
Now it was dark, and he was by himself.
Well if the darkness disturbs you so much, turn on the lights.
Why should he? It wouldn't be the same. He would still be by himself. It was kind of uncomfortable, he realized, being by himself in that big place with no friendly faces to greet him.
Usually, Robin would be the one alone, in the dark. Left to start and end the day all alone.
All alone…
Maybe that was part of his problem, Aqualad reflected. Maybe he hated being alone. Maybe he wanted someone to be with him when he cleaned up the Tower after a hard day, someone to talk to after arresting another criminal. He'd never really thought about it before, but now that he was actually experiencing Robin's duties first hand, it sure seemed like something that might cause eating disorders. Being alone.
With a little sigh, Aqualad flicked on the light switch in the hallway, and then in the rec room. He gave an even bigger sigh upon seeing the mess he'd have to clean up.
All alone.
Robin, when this is over, I'll never let you be alone again.
And so Aqualad got to work.
He wasn't more than halfway through when he began hearing odd noises from another section of the Tower. He couldn't figure out where it was coming from at first, so he just followed his ears until they brought him to the bathroom. He had figured out what the noises were, but they had already been replaced by a different kind of sound by the time he got there.
First it had been vomiting. But now it was crying.
He knew what was happening here.
He knew that Dick had gotten out of the hospital that day.
He knew what was happening here. It could be summed up in a word he had heard from Kid Flash numerous times when his fellow Titan had done that report. A word he had heard when studying various diseases, including eating disorders. A word he had been hoping to avoid as far as Dick was concerned.
Relapse.
Before, it had just been a word. Now it was more than that.
Aqualad didn't bother to knock before walking in. The light from the corridor flooded into the room to reveal a soaked Dick Grayson sitting on the white tiled floor. His arms were wrapped loosely around his knees. He was rocking himself back and forth gently as he cried next to the sink, where the fragments of a bottle of ipecac now lay smashed in the basin.
Even after the Atlantean sat next to him and wrapped an arm around his shoulders, Dick didn't seem to notice that he was no longer alone in the dark. He just kept rocking in an odd attempt to console himself. Aqualad moved along with the other boy, murmuring words of comfort in his native language.
Eventually, Dick stopped rocking and managed to pull himself together. He wiped his eyes with the back of his hand, turned to Aqualad, and gave the new leader of the Titans a watery smirk.
"Looks like my first day out of the hospital didn't go so well, huh?"
"Are you alright now? Do you want me to take you home?"
"No, I'm fine. Well, sort of. I… I threw up again…"
"I know, I know," Aqualad said quietly, reassuringly. "I know you did."
"Bruce is gonna kill me…"
"No he won't. You have to stop thinking like that, Dick. Nobody is perfect, and nobody expects you to be."
"Bruce does."
The look Dick gave him right then was almost enough to make Aqualad believe that his friend really was expected to be perfect.
And in a sense, maybe he was. Dick expected himself to be perfect, and that was good enough for him.
"Come with me, Dick. I'll take you home."
Aqualad stood up and offered his hand to Dick, who seemed to examine the red glove before accepting it. Then they exited the bathroom together, leaving the broken bottle of ipecac behind.
I dunno, every time I see Aquaman calling Garth 'Minnow', the first thing that springs to my mind is Gilligan's Island. Heh. XD I know, I'm pathetic.
Reviewer Replies
caltha-Thank you. We had a great time, as expected! And there's your weekly dose of evil.
Gohanzgirl-Well, he WAS really doing it... but hey, nobody's perfect, right? We don't actually get to see Robin in therapy (though that could make a great one shot), mostly because this fic is WAY too long as is :-P I mention it later on, though...
CrazyInsomaniac-Yeah, well, with Speedy acting like a jerk again, I'd be gettin' moody too! LOL.
ShockMePeter-Sorry, this chapter isn't quite as long. And yeah, DC Comics is probably too 'busy' to read an email from a poor nobody like me. XP They're so evil...
steelelf-Well, if you want to write that oneshot, go right ahead. I'd read it :) And please, don't give Robin any ideas!! He's bad enough as is! I wouldn't recommend doing that yourself, either... O.O
AdrenalineRush-(mutters) He can throw up NOW... (cough) Anyway, thanks! I love Disneyworld... (heart eyes) And Bruce needed therapy, like, twenty years ago!!
PlatinumRoseLady-Pfft, lol. Now I wish I watched Monty Python. (hands you a flounder) Go ahead and smack him. I think he deserves it about now.
Lil' Kanny-Thank you! Unfortunately, I think I might be coming down with another cold. I've been coughing all day. XP
SarahC4321-Ah. A tribble is a little critter from Star Trek. It resembles a giant pompom that squeaks. They're also born pregnant, don't get me started on that...
kokomocalifornia-You're welcome :) There's a better one coming up.
The BatThing-My second grade teacher had a stuffed dinosaur named Scribbles. Each student got to take him home for a weekend and write about what they did with him. My report was about, um (cough) twenty pages. Relax, I used to get hopelessly confused, too. Then other authors and wikipedia came to my rescue. If you have an questions, feel free to ask me :)