Title: My Richard. Part Eight

Author: Simon

Characters: Dick/OC

Rating: PG-13

Summary: Hudson University.

Warnings: None

Disclaimers: These guys aren't mine, they don't belong to me, worst luck, so don't bother me.

Feedback: Hell, yes.

Thanks again, Jim.

My Richard

Part Eight Hudson University

"Who's that creepy girl over there?"

"What creepy girl?"

"The one who's been staring at you since we walked in here. Over there, the one in the white shirt."

Dick looked across the student grill to the table by the window Lori was focused on.

Jesus H Fucking Christ.

He tried for calm, with enough success that no one seemed to notice his hands were now sweating. "She's an old high school girlfriend. Her name's Laura. She mentioned something about maybe visiting the campus this semester. I think some friend of hers goes here."

"Well she looks like she wants to be your puppy dog and follow you anywhere." Lori was still watching Laura. "Do you want to say hello to her?"

"I'm hungry and then I have to get to class."

Lori smiled at him. "She's that bad, huh?"

Dick made a conscious effort to turn his head away from where Laura was sitting with a couple of other girls, all of them checking him out. "C'mon, let's get something to eat."

"Dick did you two break up with a big fight or something? You look like you're about to bolt for the door any second. We could go to the cafeteria in the dorm if you'd rather eat there."

Laura was not going to make him change his life or where he ate lunch or whom he hung out with. She wasn't, damnit. "No, this is good. Just get on line, I'm hungry."

Lori Elton and Dick had connected during registration and the freshman orientation. They had both been invited to a lot of the same get-acquainted parties and cookouts and both realized pretty quickly that not only were they attracted to one another, but they'd been invited to the things they were because they both came from rich families. The Elton's may not be quite in Bruce's league, but they could certainly hold their own with your basic run-of-the-mill rich folk. Evidently the Administration wanted to make sure that donations wouldn't be pulled or that the kids didn't transfer somewhere else because they didn't feel sufficiently wanted or welcomed. Instead of the usual hot dogs and hamburgers, their cookouts featured shrimp and London broil. Instead of a jukebox, they had live bands.

Whatever.

The kids they were trying to impress knew the score. They knew when they were being sucked up to and why and none of them thought for a second it mattered in the least.

It was now the week before Thanksgiving and though Dick wasn't thrilled with either his classes or being in college, he liked Lori enough that he hadn't just packed up and left. Well, that was part of the reason, anyway.

In fact, he had known from almost the first week that this just flat out wasn't the place he wanted to be or what he wanted to be doing, but he couldn't tell Bruce, at least not yet.

He'd be fair, give it at least a few months or so and then see how he felt. Besides, if he dropped out, he wasn't going to let Bruce know about it over the phone. The bare minimum he owed the man was to tell him face-to-face. Thanksgiving was coming up in a couple of weeks, maybe that would be the time to do it. And he had to stick it out long enough to make sure that he wasn't just going through the usual freshman adjustment problems—though with his background and all, he thought that was pretty unlikely.

And while it was true he didn't like his classes—no point in saying that he hated everything about them— maybe if he kept at them he'd find something about Economics or Management Strategies that didn't completely suck. Maybe he would. It could happen. Maybe.

Okay, that was about as likely as a snowball having a long-term lease in hell, but it could happen.

Or not.

And now Laura was here. Great.

He'd been getting letters from her almost daily, delivered to his college mailbox. Sometimes there'd be two or three a day from her; all on that same pink paper in those same pink envelopes.

The letters were all pretty much the same; she'd tell him she loved him, missed him. Did he miss her? When was he going to call her? Was he angry with her? Did he like school...and so on. They all said the same thing in different ways.

Then about a month ago there was something different. He opened his box and along with the three letters was a cassette. Oh, great, just what he wanted.

Against his better judgment, he put the thing into a Walkman and pushed 'play'.

"Hey there, my Richard. I bet you didn't think that you'd be hearing from me like this, did you? Well, I decided to be a little different this time and see if you wanted to hear my voice again—I bet you did, didn't you?

"I bet you almost forgot the sound of my voice, but I haven't forgotten the sound of yours, not for a second, not for a single one. I hear your voice all the time. I never told you, but whenever we talked on the phone, at least when I was at my house, I'd turn on that tape recorder my Dad had to record conversations with his clients and I listen to those tapes over and over. You were so funny in some of them that I still laugh every time I listen to them! And then there are others where you were sad or something and those tapes always make me cry.

"I know, that sounds really stupid, doesn't it? I was listening to one of them just a little while ago and that's how I got the idea to make you a tape. Do you like it? I think it's more personal this way, somehow.

"Remember the night we were out in that rose garden Alfred treats like it was sacred ground? We were just sort of strolling around and I was smelling the flowers and all of that and you were telling me about what it was like when you lived with your parents.

"God, that was like the best night. You were really serious but you were telling me things I bet you hardly ever told anyone before and you made me feel so special—talking about how your father was always so careful whenever he caught you or your mother during the circus stuff. I bet that you're a lot like he was. You're so careful about people and you never do anything that would hurt anyone's feelings or anything—not like other people...

"And then you were telling me about some of the other people who traveled around with you, that animal trainer with the German name and that big elephant you liked and the man who owned the whole thing—you sounded like you were talking about your family or something instead of a bunch of people you worked with..."

There was the sound of some soft music starting in the background, some kind of classical, maybe Bach, Dick wasn't too sure.

"I love this music, don't you love it? I thought that maybe we could have this played at our wedding—would you like that?

"I remember you told me that your family was Catholic, or your mother was or something, so I thought that we could have the Ave Maria and then 'Here Comes the Bride' and then, I don't know...whatever you want, okay? We'll talk about it.

"My parents aren't Catholic but I'll just tell them that it's your wedding, too, so they'll have to just deal with it.

"Do you have a regular priest?

"Oh, that's another thing. I was talking to my friend up there with you at Hudson—you remember? Anyway, I was talking to Becca last night and she said that she'd seen you around campus with some girl and you were acting like she was your girlfriend or something.

"God, I can't believe that you're still doing this after you know how upset I was last time—you remember that 'friend' of yours? That bikini bitch Donna? Jesus, you don't really think I'm going through that again, do you?

"You go away for a couple of months and you're already sleeping with anything in a skirt, aren't you? What is she; low priced spread? You're a damn whore, you know that?

"I know what you are, you're just a slut and if you think I'm going to put up with this again you're out of your mind. And who is she, this Lori? You think I don't know who you're screwing? You think I don't know what you're doing? Does Bruce know what he's getting for his money with you up there all by yourself?

"By yourself? Right, like you're alone a single minute you don't want to be—the great Richard Grayson, doing anything and anybody he wants—all he has to do is smile and blink his big blue eyes and anyone he wants just falls at his feet or into his great big bed.

"You're a whore. I hope you end up with AIDS or something..."

There was more, but Dick didn't bother to listen and from then on, along with the daily letters, he'd receive a tape or two a week and they were all the same.

Now and then it occurred to him that maybe all of this crap had something to do with the fact that he hated college.

The day after he saw Laura in the grill he came back to his boarding house room after classes to find a gift-wrapped package leaning against his door. Amazingly it hadn't been stolen and seemed intact—no one had even opened the thing. There was a pink envelope taped to the paper.

Shit.

Opening it against his better judgment, he found the shirt Laura had told him about last summer, the one she had bought for him because it was a perfect match for his eyes. It was heavy china silk, almost dense in his fingers but still fluid enough to flow like blue mercury. It had a Rive Gauche label and Dick had to admit that it was even up to Bruce's standards. It was pretty damn nice and had probably put a good hole in several hundred dollars.

Reluctantly, he picked up the attached letter. It was just one sheet.

"My Richard,

I promised you, didn't I?

Wear it for me tonight, please? I have special plans for us.

I love you,

Laura"

Christ. He picked up his phone.

"Lori? Look, something came up and I need a favor. Is it alright if I stay at your place for a couple of days? I sort of need to get out of my room for a while...Yeah, thanks...I'll be over in a few minutes."

Two days after that he was walking out of Lori's dorm room, headed for his 8:30 Statistics lecture, when he was jumped from behind as he got to the elevator. He felt something hard hit his shoulder and reacted like he would if he was in the middle of a mugging.

"You bastard, you bastard, you son of a bitch—after you knew all the trouble I went to for you and you didn't even have the courtesy, the damn good manners to even leave me a note. You didn't even think of all the trouble I went to, did you? You just wanted to screw your slut here—that's all you wanted, that's all you ever wanted. You're just like every other guy in the world, that's all you are."

Dick managed to get her off of him and face down on the ground without hurting her, his hands and weight pinning her. If he knew anything, it was how to immobilize someone and Laura realized she had absolutely no chance of getting up until he let her. It seemed to make her angrier, but there was nothing she could do about it other than breathe hard and glare at anyone whose eye she caught. By now a small crowd of girls from the floor had gathered and after a few minutes more of Laura's ranting, she quieted down to silence, seemingly almost embarrassed to be the center of attention, her anger temporarily gone.

"Dick, do you want me to call security?"

And then Bruce would find out and after that he'd probably be forced to move to a different college to make a fresh start and then he'd be stuck in college for at least four years.

"No, I think it's alright." He loosened his grip slightly. "If I let you up will you behave?" She nodded and he moved aside.

"Why didn't you show up? I had dinner and everything ready for you. I brought it over to you and I had everything planned. It was going to be perfect." She no longer seemed angry, just sad, pleading and not understanding why he had stood her up.

Dick put his arm around her shoulders to lead her away from the dozen or so girls who were watching them and tried very hard to be kind to her. "We're over, Laura. We're not going to get back together."

"But..."

"That was over three years ago. It's not going to happen, Laura. I'm seeing someone else now and you need to leave. You're not a student here."

"But you said you loved me, you said it. I heard you."

He really didn't want to hurt her. She was sick, he felt sorry for her and he wanted this to all be over and done with. He just wanted her to go away.

"You have to stop writing to me, okay? And you can't buy me presents or send me things, alright? I won't open anything, I'll just sent it back to you or throw it out. No more, alright?"

"Why, is she better than me? Is she better in bed?"

God. "Laura...that's enough. You have to leave me alone now."

"Richard..."

"You keep saying that you love me. If you do then do what I want, leave me alone. Please, Laura."

"But..."

"If you love me, you'll do as I ask."

She looked at the floor and nodded then walked to the stairwell and pushed the door open, going down the stairs.

When he went back to tell Lori that the other girl had gone and knowing that he'd now be late to class, they were interrupted by the RA. "You do both know that there are no overnight guests of the opposite sex permitted, don't you? Good. I could write you both up for this."

Dick was just so not in the mood for this. "Are you going to?"

"That girl been hassling you for long?"

He nodded. "A couple of years."

"And she said she'll leave you alone after this?"

"That's what she said." Of course that was a long-shot, but he could get lucky.

"Are you going home tomorrow for the long weekend? Good. With any luck she'll leave then. You move back to wherever you live after tonight, you got that? Good."

He didn't see or hear from Laura again before he left for the break. Maybe she'd given up.

Dick arrived at the Manor around three the next afternoon. It had been almost three months since he'd been back and he was surprised by how much he had missed the place—and Bruce and Alfred.

He missed walking into the kitchen to seeing and smelling Alfred cooking something incredible and he missed the space and the privacy of the huge house and grounds. He even missed Bruce's questions and Alfred's admonitions to be neat and hang up his jacket and wipe his shoes.

He had hinted to Bruce that he didn't think Hudson was the right place for him and the two of them danced around things for a couple of days before Dick finally came out and said that he'd finish out the semester and that would be it, and no, he didn't think he wanted to apply anywhere else for transfer. He wasn't completely sure what he wanted to do right now, but he had some ideas. He'd just have to see.

Bruce took it pretty well, all things considered. It was clear that he was disappointed, but he wouldn't force Dick to do something he obviously didn't want to do and so agreed that as soon as he was done with his finals, he would pack up his things and come back home, at least for a while. He could sit back a little and take stock, see what his priorities were and sort through his ideas.

There were no hard feelings and on Sunday Dick went back to the school for what he knew would be the last time.

He took a cab from the local airport and was slightly surprised to see that the boarding house was dark when they pulled up to the curb. Getting out of the car, he smelled it—charred wood and melted plastic and Christ knew what all.

There were yellow police 'crime scene' tapes across the front walk and 'unsafe' signs on what was left of the structure. The house had been gutted by fire.

TBC

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