Chapter 37: Just a boy

There was a new driver waiting for him in front of the manor the next day. He didn't introduce himself, didn't say anything at all in fact and only motioned towards the doors of the car with a sharp jerk of his head. He steadily avoided the boy's eyes during the whole process.

Dick supposed the man must be a replacement; after all, Mrs Dominatrix's absence left a gap in his seemingly scheduled rotation of chauffeurs that needed to be filled. It was only a matter of time. The boy climbed inside, tugging at the knot of his tie unsurely as the car started and he returned to the dull routine of his school life.

Despite his worries about McTravis and Richard, the boy's mind shut down about midnight and he had a restful, uninterrupted sleep that left him feeling awake and aware of everything around him. Bruce didn't join him for breakfast and Alfred was a constant, faceless presence in the background. The morning routine didn't make him feel good exactly but there was a certain feeling of confidence and power in it; he could predict things easier when he moved within this routine.

The Gotham streets moved past the bulletproof glass like distant and unrelated images, a movie on mute. Dick leaned forward to peer at the chauffer.

"Are you new?" he asked bluntly. The man didn't respond. Perhaps he was given instructions from Bruce not to.

"What's your name?" Dick persisted, itching to put a name on the face, but the chauffer remained silent and Dick leaned back in his seat with a frustrated sigh. He never got their names anyway.

He was uncomfortably aware of the designer sunglasses in the side pocket of his schoolbag. He would have to find Richard and apologize to him later during lunch, come up with some stupid story about how he took them by accident or something similar. He didn't like the idea of lying to Richard that way - he lied to him about so many other things already - but he had no other option. He wanted, needed the boy by his side and if he had to lie to keep him there, well... he would do what it took.

Dick lowered his eyes, letting go of the tie and fixing his eyes on the passing buildings with a grim expression. Another issue was McTravis. Bruce had found out about the older boy's involvement last night and he'd seemed... angry? It was hard to understand his feelings but he certainly seemed displeased, and Dick worried what he would find once he entered the gates of the academy. Would McTravis confront him? Should Dick... warn him? But what would he say? It all seemed so hopeless he didn't want to even try. He knew he was taking the easy way out, but taking Bruce on like that, even indirectly, seemed like an impossible feat. He instinctively shrunk away from the responsibility and preferred to focus on his previous goal: keeping Richard unnoticed. He knew where his priorities lay and it wasn't anywhere near McTravis.

Did that make him a bad person? Last night he had wanted to shield the boy so desperately, but how much of it was actual human kindness, and how much was just to deny Bruce something that he wanted?

Sitting there, trapped in a car with a nameless man that didn't say a word and only answered to Bruce... it didn't feel like he could afford to be kind.

Dick frowned at the path his thoughts had taken. No, he owed it to McTravis to at least try, no matter what kind of a bigoted asshole he was. He felt like Bruce's dark side was his responsibility even if he had no means of protecting anyone from its wrath. He wanted to be a good person. Like Richard.

Killing someone is legal if it's in self defence.

Dick shut his eyes, willing the terrible thought away. Ever since his trip, the idea was latched into his brain like a parasite and randomly popped up, whenever he thought of his blond friend and their talks in the hotel room.

'There's more to wrong or right than what's against the law. If someone is hurting you, it's not wrong to try to stop them.'

But how could he ever possibly stop Bruce? The man was an uncontrollable force; he could see that now more than ever after his brief break from the prison. His thoughts were brave when he was out of Gotham, seemingly out of the monster's reach, but now that he was back and surrounded by his lackeys and money, it felt hopeless. Impossible.

Killing someone is legal if it's in self defence.

No, he could never do it. His parents wouldn't want him to do it. There had to be another way, there was always a way. But would he be able to find it? His time was running out... slowly but surely he was breaking, like a toy that had been used too many times - Dogger, his beautiful Dogger how could he just throw him away like that, he used to be such a cruel child - and soon he would not be able to handle the pressure, he could feel it like a physical sensation inside his head, his brain. There was only so much Dick Grayson could endure before he would stop wondering how to escape, stop desiring a way out of his cage.

He had to fight. If this trip taught him anything it was that he has to stand up to Bruce, refuse to obey and blindly follow - next time Bruce grabs him to drag his body into that fucking disgusting room he has to do something and not just give in. He didn't want to be weak, he wanted to be strong... like Richard (like Batman) but there was something about Bruce's presence that sucked all the strength out of him and it was as if his body remembered everything and froze in fear.

But fuck, he has to at least try...!

Dick freed his finger from the clasp of his teeth, staring at the pink flesh under his bitten out pieces of nail and swallowed, his mouth tasting like iron. This all felt so surreal, like a long never-ending nightmare and Bruce, the king of all creatures, stalked through it like some awful monster.

God, if he could get his hands on his guardian when he's weak and defenceless... sprawled on the floor like a child, looking up at him the way Dick stared up all those times in the forbidden room. If he could get him restrained then maybe he could do it. Take a knife and gut that bastard like a pig and keep stabbing and stabbing and Bruce would scream at him to stop but he would just keep going.

Dick glared at his reflection in the darkened window, his posture stiff. He couldn't ever imagine Bruce that weak, desperate enough to beg - the man was always in control. Even in his own head it was impossible, the man's face fuzzy and not quite right as the dark fantasy played out.

The boy covered his face with his hands, breathing slowly. Was it possible to hate somebody this much? It felt like selling his soul to the devil.

He leaned his head against the window with a grimace.

Soon enough he was dropped off at the academy, the chauffer standing out of the car and looking at him with a stony expression even though their eyes never once met. Dick could feel his gaze until he walked up the main flight of stairs and when he turned around the gleaming car was leaving, guards nodding as they let it pass by the west gate of the school. Dick walked through the halls, ignoring his classmates' faces and the constant flow of motion and boyish chatter until he was in his class and focusing on the first lesson of the day.

Teachers seemed jumpy around him and he noticed Mr. Luca sending him unsure looks during English class. He assumed it was because of the night's phone call; everybody lived in fear of Bruce's displeasure and that somehow made him feel better, like he wasn't weak for being afraid.

He wasn't surprised when asked him to stay after the lesson; the man looked really nervous as he stared down at the fourteen year old approaching his desk. He was looking at his bruised eye as everybody else was, Dick could tell. It still hadn't healed although after applying the lotion that Alfred had given him, the injury looked marginally better.

McTravis' brand.

"Look, Richard," Mr Luca began and Dick tensed at the unfamiliar form of his name. "About what happened on the trip, I hope you understand that I didn't mean to-"

"It's not your fault, Mr L," Dick protested immediately. It pained him to see his favourite teacher apologizing in this way, it was so undignified and pathetic. There was a certain fear lurking in the man's voice that made him feel uncomfortable; it wasn't something that he expected from an adult, especially in one that had authority over him. It scared Dick to see the normally friendly teacher so shaken. He must have been really worried about his job.

"I just want you to know that I wish I had got there sooner," the man said, glancing at his eye again as Dick shook his head in dismissal.

"This... It's nothing, it will be gone in a few days, it's nothing," he kept repeating it, but it didn't seem to reassure the man. Eventually, Dick left the classroom feeling strangely uneasy; there was a disturbance at the very back of his mind that forced him to replay the conversation over and over. Mr Luka's fear transferred to his own brain like a virus and he was left feeling gloomy as he walked towards his next class. The only thing that kept him going through the meaningless subjects was the thought of meeting Richard and seeing his friend's familiar face.

However by the time lunch break rolled around Dick realized that he actually had no idea where Richard's locker or even his classroom was. The boy found himself awkwardly standing in one of the hallways where he usually met the senior, trying to find the familiar tall figure of the blond. After a moment of consideration, he brought out his mobile phone and wrote his friend a short message, fighting off a warning voice that Bruce wouldn't like his ward using the phone he had bought the boy for anything other than contacting the man himself.

'Want to meet up for lunch?'

He looked up from his phone as he heard someone mention McTravis' name.

"-he's in hospital right now, I don't know the details but they fucked with his face..."

"Jesus... Doesn't he live like three blocks away from me? That's scary."

"Apparently the whole family got attacked in the middle of the night. Batman managed to save the parents but was too late for-"

Batman?

Dick leaned closer, trying to hear the pair of boys standing next to his locker. They were upperclassmen he had never seen before and weren't paying him any attention. One of them was in the process of tightening his tie, his mouth opened to continue when a soft sound behind Dick disturbed him from his eavesdropping.

"Hey."

There was a movement in the corner of his eye and a touch on his shoulder - Dick jerked away in reflex only to find his friend smiling down at him with amused eyes. "I got your message like five seconds ago. Lunch sounds good."

Dick agreed, but he wasn't as hungry as he had been a minute ago.

They ended up going to the cafe where they ate together for the first time; it had made him feel lonely, but over the course of the last few weeks it had begun to be filled with happier memories. He sincerely hoped there would be many more such moments he could add to that shrunk, crippled place inside his soul.

As soon as they sat down with their food, Dick reached inside his bag and grabbed a small leather case he had taken from the endless drawers of accessories in his room. Inside lay Richard's stolen sunglasses. He apologetically placed them on the table.

"I must have taken them by accident when I left..." he trailed off, hoping it would be enough. He felt truly wretched about the whole thing. It was as if he was being proven time and time again that he wasn't worthy of being Richard's friend. 'You don't deserve this' his inner voice whispered, surfacing from the depth of lies long enough to let him know he was a liar, different from his friend.

The blonde blinked down at the object and then smiled, pulling out his sunglasses and putting them on. Dick didn't like the effect; the boy's eyes were hidden and made him look like a stranger. He saw his own reflection in their darkness.

"I didn't even realize I lost them!" Richard stated as he started to eat, one hand holding the sandwich while the other dug for something in his bag. Even when faced with Richard's obvious forgiveness, Dick still felt somehow unsatisfied. It was an empty feeling that he couldn't shake off.

"I actually have something for you too," he said in between the bites. Inside his hand was a small plastic object that after a while Dick recognized as a USB port. He had been forced to use one when preparing a PowerPoint presentation for his Economics class. He had had a lot of trouble with it, and even though Bruce had paid for extra computing lessons, Dick couldn't seem to connect with technology the way most of his peers did. The computer in his room remained for the most part unused.

"It's the photos from the trip. Check them out when you get home."

Dick took it with surprised eyes.

He ended up plugging it into one of the school's computers after his Math class. He was skipping Geography to do it, but he didn't care. Ever since the trip, his priorities had undergone a subtle transformation, and now anything related to Richard was suddenly a matter of life and death. He recognized that this change was unhealthy, but it prevented him from caring.

His friend had meant well, but of course Dick knew that he could not open the photos at home. Despite his limited knowledge of computers, he knew that Bruce was monitoring him, and that probably applied to all the digital devices in the manor too. Even if he deleted all traces from his desktop, the cameras would catch him sticking the USB port in anyway. It was safer to do it at school.

The photos looked nice and had a certain professional feel to them that Dick accredited to the expensive camera. There was a picture of them in front of the university; then the colossal greatness of the waterfall in their hotel - oh yes, there he was near the centre of the picture, looking very small surrounded by the looming architecture. Then another photo of the two of them, Richard's arm around his back and Dick's eyes stuck in a motion of looking away, creating a strange blurry effect that disturbed him. Another shot, this time just when they were getting ready for the play and Richard was making a corny James Bond pose in his suit, his face deceitfully serious, making Dick laugh out loud as he remembered taking it.

There were only a few photos in the folder although Dick remembered Richard taking much more. He must have deleted the ones that didn't work out.

He stopped at the last picture, the scene set in their vast bathroom in the hotel. It was their second night together and Richard wanted to document the ridiculous bubble bath mechanism Aquaz was so famous for. In the picture, he was holding the camera as he faced the mirror, catching their reflection as Dick poked at the different buttons and Richard sat on the edge of the large bath, fully clothed but slightly wet as he held the camera upwards. He was looking away from the mirror, his gaze down, making his lashes cast shadows on his face, long and soft looking. He looked very young in the picture, grinning brightly and Dick was suddenly overcome by a strong rush of affection for his friend that left him feeling weak. It was a sensation similar to how he felt about his parents whenever he remembered a particular good memory; a strange sort of longing that gave him strength.

He continued looking through the pictures until the bell rang and he had to log off, packing his bag and putting the USB port inside his locker, not daring to even bring it home. He was aware of Alfred's nasty habit of going through his school bag, although what he expected to find Dick never knew.

The same driver from the morning waited for him in front of the school gates and Dick climbed inside. He didn't attempt to talk to the man again.

0o0

"Is something the matter, young master?" Alfred asked and Dick could hear the slight hint of impatience in his voice, a subtle reminder that he was not wanted in the butler's area of the mansion.

"Nothing. Just looking around," he replied cheekily. He wasn't in any mood to play around but teasing Alfred in this way still granted him a kind of sick satisfaction. It was a petty and ineffectual revenge, but it was all he had. The old man continued to ignore him and simply went about his daily tasks. His hands looked surprisingly fragile as he washed the tomatoes in the sink, cutting them one by one with expert movements. The knife glinted in the electric light of the kitchen and Dick's eyes followed its movement for a long moment. What if he just... took the knife from the butler's hands? Would he even be able to use it as a weapon if the time to fight back presented itself?

The more he thought about it the more hopeless he felt; what did it matter to Bruce if he was armed or not? The man could easily twist his hands behind his back and take the knife from him by force. Dick didn't know how to wield a weapon of any kind so he would be just relying on pure luck and when was he ever lucky?

The boy moodily turned his gaze away and faced the window instead, his dark reflection returning the stare with unhappy eyes. His hair was gradually growing out; no longer resembling an army cut, it was looking thicker and starting to give his face the shape he knew from his childhood - he had had shorter hair back when his mother was around to cut it.

Dick tugged at the few strands and gracefully hopped off the counter.

"Alfred, do you have a family of your own?"

The butler looked at him with puzzlement which quickly formed into a blank mask of professionalism. For a long moment Dick thought he wouldn't get an answer until Alfred swept the cut tomatoes into a bowl and said "Yes. I have a brother."

Dick blinked, not expecting that. He sometimes wondered about Alfred's past life before he got captured by the Wayne family, but he had never found the motivation to ask. In his mind Alfred was always alone; a solitary being stuck in the late fifties that was forever restrained by its inbred professionalism. Dick had expected the answer to be 'no,' because only a man void of all affection could do what Alfred did. The idea of him having a family or any kids of his own seemed unnatural.

"What's his name?" Dick asked.

"Wilfred," came the soft answer from within the sounds of boiling water. Alfred's face was hidden in the steam rising from the pot.

Dick laughed. "Alfred and Wilfred? Are you twins?"

"No, we are not," the butler replied, cold as stone with annoyance running off his words like drops of rain.

Dick corrected himself and returned to his former disinterested tone. "Is it nice having a sibling? I often wished I had a little sister..." he confessed, not really sure what he hoped to achieve by this conversation. But the admission was true enough; back in the circus he had longed for a little girl to carry around and protect. Looking back on it now he probably wanted to be put in the position of the protector instead of the protected.

As if he could protect anyone now. If he actually had a baby sister of his own he would not be able to shield her from Bruce's anger and sick perversions. Perhaps it was better that he was alone.

He noticed that Alfred didn't answer his question and when he lifted his gaze the butler was staring at him with an unreadable look on his face. He looked like he was about to say something when there was the sound of car wheels from outside the opened window and both of them instinctively turned towards the direction of the noise.

The master of the manor had arrived. Dick frowned at the realization, tearing his gaze away and unenthusiastically picking at a neatly laid out carrot on the counter. He didn't want to face Bruce but he knew that he would be forced to eat dinner with him anyway so what was the point of returning to his room? He might as well stay downstairs. He was already wearing presentable clothes for the dining room anyway.

He grabbed the carrot and mindlessly dug his nails into it, tearing at the outer layer and breaking the vegetable in half. He then continued to destroy it, his mind on autopilot until all that was left were ugly orange pieces that were strewn all across the counter, some fallen on the clean tiled floor and sullying the butler's hard work. Alfred didn't say anything but Dick could feel his disapproval like a physical hand. He turned his back on the old man but Alfred sidestepped him, turning off the heat on the saucepan and adding a few more ingredients to the mix.

He wondered how long it would take for Bruce to find them. The man seemed to have some sort of a sixth sense when it came to his butler and Alfred too always seemed to know his master's whereabouts. It was only Dick who was left in the dark to be surprised.

As it turned out, it didn't take long. Bruce walked into the spacious kitchen with a confident stride, his face relaxed as he surveyed them both. Alfred immediately turned away from the pot to give his master his full attention. Dick shrunk away, pretending he needed a glass of water, but he could feel his guardian's eyes.

"Alfred, could we have dinner a bit later than usual?" Bruce's deep voice inquired from behind him as Dick reached out for one of the higher cupboards, filling the glass at the tap. "Eight o'clock?" It was in the tone of a question, but Bruce Wayne never asked for anything, he commanded.

"Certainly, sir." Alfred's voice was polite but still warmer than it had been before. Dick grimaced bitterly, that desperate feeling of being unwanted creeping up on him like a curse.

"And how was school, Dick?" Bruce asked, still with that terrible pleasant voice. Dick hated it only because he didn't know what it meant; it was as if the man was stuck in that grey area between playing the part of a jovial billionaire or a harsh guardian surrounded by secrets. Was Bruce acting at all? Or was he simply in a good mood?

Dick was tired of guessing.

"It was ok," he replied unenthusiastically, washing the glass and putting it back in its place. He was stalling for time; facing Bruce and looking him in the eye was always hard but now it seemed downright impossible. After months of following the man's orders and letting him do what he wanted, the realization that it was Dick's responsibility to fight back came as... as something crushing, impossible. He hadn't realized it before but the fact that he was a victim and had no control over the situation had been almost comforting. These bad things were happening to him, he had no control over them, he could not do anything to change his situation. He was not responsible for his miserable fate.

But if there was something that his conversations with Richard taught him it was that if he wanted his situation to change, it was his duty to fight back. It was his own fault for not standing up to the monster. Nobody else was going to save him from this.

"Let me see your face," Bruce ordered, his voice still pleasant. Dick turned around, keeping his eyes on the floor morosely. He could feel both Bruce's and Alfred's eyes on him and when he lifted his face he saw that his guardian's hand was outstretched, motioning for him to come closer.

Alfred was watching him with a disturbingly blank face, more like a wild predator than a person. He was holding a pot and resumed scrubbing it only when Dick willed his feet to move. Alfred turned his attention back to cleaning when Dick obeyed and stood in front of his guardian.

"Hm." Bruce made a soft noise, lifting his hand to briefly touch Dick's face. His thumb stroked under the boy's injured eye and Dick willed himself not to wince.

"It's healing nicely," the man murmured and then looked away, his hand shifting until it settled at the back of his ward's neck in a tight grip. "Come, Dick. Walk with me."

It was as if his feet moved on their own, and before he knew what was happening, they were walking up the stairs, passing the portrait of Bruce's parents on their way upstairs. Dick's eyes looked up to meet the familiar smiling faces but he could not bear to stare for long - there was something very sad about thinking of them in his current situation.

Bruce's steps were slower than usual, as if the man was trying to accommodate his ward's much smaller legs, and he was talking to him in that terrible, pleased voice again. The hand on his neck was firm and possessive and the boy shivered at the contact, experiencing a sudden feeling wrongness, a shift in his body that could be best described as honed survival instinct. With a sudden realization he saw that they had turned a corner and were now going for the west wing of the manor.

The forbidden room.

Dick's eyes widened.

He hadn't noticed it before, too distracted by the rough hand on his neck, but he was being led to that terrible room like a sheep for slaughter. He stumbled slightly, his feet clumsy and unreliable as he tried to keep up with Bruce's now slightly faster, impatient pace.

"But I still think people should try to help themselves, instead of waiting around for someone else to do it, don't you?"

He had agreed with Richard then, convinced that it was the right thing to do. So why couldn't he stand up to Bruce now? What was he doing, walking straight to his doom... as if he wanted it, as if it was a consensual thing? No, no, he needed to stop right now, he needed to stop moving, or open his mouth and say something, tell him... tell him that...

He started to sweat, his face hot with panic. With each step they were getting closer and Bruce was still talking and asking him questions about his school as if there was nothing wrong with this picture.

Killing someone is legal if it's in self-defence.

'I can't do it!' Dick thought with a hint of hysteria. 'I'm too weak! Just a kid, a boy!'

As if sensing his inner struggle, the hand on his neck tightened, tucking him closer to Bruce's enormous chest until Dick was stumbling on his feet, already seeing the familiar door at the side of the corridor. Oh, God...

And that's wrong. I know not everyone's in a position where they can help themselves, but they should try.

It doesn't matter if it was hopeless, he needed to do something... Richard... Richard said that people should never give up and Dick didn't want to give up.

'I'll just... I'll just count to three and then stop walking. I'll count to three and not move and then tell him to stop... tell him that I don't want to do this that he can't do this that... that I won't do this no matter how much he'll try to force me. I'll tell him that it's over that I won't ever do anything like this... that we will just forget about the whole thing and I won't tell anybody as long as he... stops doing this... just count to three...'

His throat was dry, his head buzzing as he slowed down his pace slightly. Bruce tugged at his neck in frustration and Dick looked down at the floor, seeing his own willowy shadow flickering in and out of existence next to the black mass of his guardian's gargantuan one that seemed to be fighting to absorb the boy whole.

One.

His hands shook, throat dry as they got closer and closer towards that dreaded door.

Two.

Fingers at the back of his head, tugging and fingering his short strands.

Three.

The boy stopped.

Author's Note: CLIFFHANGARRRRR. Let's all thank AmberSpirit for this amazing chapter, shall we?

A short note this time, just a couple of things to pimp. First of all, we found another Boy in the Manor music video that no one told us about that you should all see. If u just search "The Boy in the Manor" in Youtube, it comes up, but it's actually called "Dick Grayson / The Boy in the Manor" by soulofkonoha009. Another video we found that I love and that applies to this fic without being explicitly related is "Bruce Wayne / Dick Grayson | My Secret Friend" by lottegrimm. These videos deserve to be watched, people.