Disclaimer: This fanfiction is based in the era of the Roman Empire to give you all some context. Some practices from this empire may be present in this story. I created a new Empire for this story. The Gotham Empire, totally original right? Wrong! I can't claim DC Universe, or the Known World like many have done before *cough* Alexander the Great *cough* Napoleon *cough* Your face :B

Rated T: Tears and fluff, with a little angst.

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Sorry for the long wait! College work has been a pain in the butt with loads of papers to be written. 2 weeks left of school, oh yeah! Then I can focus on my stories all I want.

Anyway, I had slight writers block with this chapter, not sure where to take it. But after listening to some epic music *cough* Transformer's Soundtrack *cough* My brain was restored to its ADHDness and here is the result. Yayz!

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The Changing of a Heart

By: Fanficer21

Chapter 12

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Blue eyes opened to the sound of a bird chirping and wind rustling the leaves of the eucalyptus tree, just outside the window. They tiredly scanned the room he was in. It was large with marble walls, a large window allowed the sunlight to pour in leaving its glow on the floor and part of the bed. The bed was also large, fitting the room and rested against the wall. Looking down he noticed he was laying beneath silk sheets.

Next he noticed his body. His chest was wrapped in the whitest cloth he'd ever seen. It wrapped around his shoulder and beneath a new looking tunic. However, instead of white, this tunic was red, reminding him of the one he wore back home in Ainamor. But it was also strange, because the tunic was torn in half and then put back together with coins for buttons.

Not a sound penetrated the room, save the chirping of a little European Robin on a branch of the tree. Robin tried to sit up, but his body was stiff and sore not allowing him to move. there was a growing pain in his lower right abdomen beginning to sting. So he laid where he was agaisnt extremely soft fabric, his eyes slowly grew heavy, shutting as sleep overtook him again.

The second time he awoke, it was to the smell of something nearby. Resting on a small table beside the bed sat a tray of food. A bowl filled with what looked like a soup of some kind. He wasn't very hungry, so he just remained where he was until his body, once again, was pulled into the darkness.

Third time's the charm, as his father always joked. The third time he awoke, it was to the cold sensation of something touching his chest. He felt a hand rubbing, whatever the cold thing was, gently in circles above his heart. He groaned softly and almost fell asleep again...Wait! A hand!

Robin's eyes shot open, his body jumped slightly in the bed making the other person on the bed jump as well. He saw an older man sitting on the edge of the spacious bed, his right hand rested in the air as he looked upon the boy with wide, yet sympathetic eyes. His hair was as white as snow, slowly receding up his forehead. A well-kept white mustache rested upon his upper lip. Light blue or green eyes (not sure which, it's hard to tell)* remained upon the boy who tried to curl in on himself and away from the old man.

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The old man had come in earlier that day, bringing soup. The boy was still asleep on the large bed that swallowed his form, as Alfred entered the room. Setting the tray down, he gently brushed the bangs from the boy's forehead before leaving to attend to other matters. Wally stopped by every half hour, when taking a break from his training to check on his friend. Sometimes he would visit while Alfred was cleaning the boy's wounds. As soon as Wally saw Robin's wounds and scars, he balled his fists and clenched his jaw tight. How could people do this to his friend. He's been through more than any kid his age should ever experience. It took Alfred's calm voice to settle the angered boy down, keeping him form running the streets in search of the man who did this to him (remember, he doesn't know about Rekoj yet).

The next time Alfred came in, he noticed that the boy's position was somewhat changed, signifying that he woke up at some point. He took the tray of food back to the kitchen. When he returned, he was holding new cloth for bandages, a bowl of hot water, and a small jar of ointment made from Nettle seed.* After unbottoning the boy's tunic, the man removed the old cloth bandages before wetting a clean cloth in the bowl. Squeezing the cloth of the excess water, he then washed the areas around the previously stitched knife wounds to prevent infection. During his ministrations, the boy didn't make a single movement. Well, not until he began to apply the cool ointment onto the still raw, but healing burn, that the boy showed signs of waking up. Said boy's eyebrows furrowed, his head shifted slightly as a small groan escaped from his throat.

Suddenly the boy's eyes shot open as he stared at the man fearfully, his body tensed and jumped. He squeaked in pain while trying to curl into the fetal position after quickly turning onto his side and dragging the white silken sheet to cover his chest. His arms crossing against his chest, while his stab wound and ribs throbbed painfully. But he didn't know what else to do except to keep this man away from him. Alfred sighed at the sight before placing the jar of ointment onto the floor.

"Master Robin! It is alright, there is no need to be afraid." He said softly, attempting to calm the boy. However, Robin just looked at him like a wounded animal, untrusting. The older man leaned forward slowly to place a hand on the boy's shoulder, but stopped immediately when Robin flinched. The boy shut his eyes tightly while clenching his teeth, soft moans leaving his throat as he shook in place from the pain. Tears fell from his closed eyes, his stab wound felt like it was tearing open.

"Please child! I mean you no harm! Let me help you!" Alfred fretted as he leaned forward again. "No!" Robin barked sharply through the tears, curling up even further, once again stopping the man. "S-Stay away!"

Alfred released a sigh before leaning down to pick up the jar of ointment, before standing up. He placed it upon the stand beside the bed. "Rub this on your chest when every few hours to alleviate the pain." He put his hand on his own chest, above his heart to show the boy what he meant. The boy, however, continued to stare at him with an animalistic glare. He wouldn't let anyone near him. Taking the bowl of water and cloth, Alfred exited the room.

Robin's eyes remained on the doorway a few moments longer to make sure he wouldn't be coming back. He then, relaxed a little when all was quiet, save more chirping from the European Robin. Uncurling himself, he looked at his chest and stomach. His stab wound and long cut had been stitched up, very good stitching. He thought as he ran his finger along the imbeded horse hair, before inspecting his burn scar. It was still tender, causing him to cringe as he bit his lip, even though it had already been...wait, how long was he in bed for?

He felt bad for acting mean to the old man, he seemed nice. But he just couldn't trust anyone, not after he was broken by his last masters. He didn't want to trust people anymore, because they would only hurt him again.

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Robin remained in bed for about a week. His body was healing nicely, but his wounds were still tender. His burn scar was soon coated with scar tissue, like his back. And the more his body healed, the more he became coherent of his surroundings. He became figity in bed and wanted to move around, and find out where he was being held. Was he in another master's household that would beat him at the slightest mistake? Or was he just dreaming? Pinching himself, he now knew this wasn't a dream. Sliding to the edge of the bed, he slowly put his bare feet to the cool marble floor before standing up, straightening his buttoned up tunic, He then made his way to the doorway, slowly as to not draw attention.

Robin left the room to investigate the interior of the house. Quietly tip toeing down the hallway, he stopped at every sound he heard, and looked around frantically to make sure no one was in sight. Once he saw he was in the clear, he continued down the red carpet. It was velvety beneath his feet. Soon he reached a large room, looking inside he noticed that it resembled a kitchen of some sort, a really big kitchen. A large hearth with a large flame rolling inside caused him to freeze, remembering what Rekoj had done in his kitchen sent shivers down his spine. He quickly made his way out of the room and continued his personal tour.

Soon he entered another large room, but this one was empty, nothing but the marble walls caught his attention. Scratch that. When he walked a little further in the room, he noticed something hanging on the wall in the far corner, beside a small table with a vase. Getting closer he saw it was a tapestry with two people on it. A man and a woman, they were hugging eachother while staring at him. Robin started to feel uncomfortable beneath their eternal gaze. But noticed that they looked...happy. The memory of his mother and father kissing in the kitchen when he was 8 years old played in his mind, causing tears to form in the corners of his eyes.

Turning slightly, he was about to head for the door, until he noticed a figure standing in the doorway from the corner of his eye. Slowly turning his head to face the person, he stiffened when he realized it was the man he'd seen at the market twice. They stared at each other, though Robin was backing up slowly.

"Don't be afraid. I'm not going to hurt you." The man said as he took a step into the room. 'Sure you're not!' Robin thought as he took another step back, his skeptic eyes never leaving the muscular man on the other side of the room. "I-I'm not afraid of you!" Robin bluffed, hoping to get the man to leave. Unsuccessful.

Bruce heard the boy's bluff, but he kept walking forward, his eyes trained on the scared teen in front of him as he continued to walk backwards. He noticed the boy was getting closer to the table with the expensive vase, but he didn't say anything.

'What does this guy want?' Robin frantically asked himself, remembering Rekoj's tortures and Antonius's beatings. Suddenly he felt something touch his lower back, making him jump. A loud crash followed after the vase hit the floor, shattered pieces going everywhere behind him. Robin knew what was coming, so he ducked his head and shut his eyes tight when the man was a few feet away. He waited for the strike that never came. Opening his eyes shyly, he saw the man standing there, just standing. A look of deep thought on his face, and a slight touch of pity.

"Don't be afraid." The man repeated stoiclly. "I-I'm not." Robin said quietly, but flinched when the man's hand shot up before holding it in place. "Yes! You are." Said man repeated, before lowering his hand. Bruce had raised his hand to prove his point that the boy was afraid of him, but he was impressed by the boy's stubborness.

The boy was about to take another step back, when Bruce saw the shard of broken vase he was going to step on with his bare feet. Acting quickly, he launced forwards, despite the boy's body stiffening, and grabbed his shoulers before yanking him towards him. Robin was stunned at first, but once his mind caught up with him he struggled in the man's hold. Twisting his body this way and that which caused him pain, but he was terrified of what this man wasgoing to do to him.

Bruce just watched the boy sympathetically. A person should never be terrified of others, especially one so young. It just wasn't right. However, Bruce wasn't the kind of person to share his emotions and feelings, he knew little about comforting others. But he did remember how his parents used to comfort him. Following their example, he pulled the boy to his chest, before wrapping his arms tightly around Robin's upper back, his face buried in Bruce's toga. He then felt the boy's struggles become more intense.

"Shhh! It's ok. It's ok." The man said quietly, tightening his hold on the boy. Tears threatened to escape Robin's eyes, but he wouldn't allow them to come out. Especially when the man's quiet soothing sounded just like his father's, not to mention the strong comforting arms. He put his hands against the man's waist and tried to push himself out of the strong arms. Said arms only tightened more.

"You'll open your wounds if you keep fighting it." Bruce said a little roughly, making Robin jump slightly in his arms. It wasn't until his next move that broke Robin's reluctant hold on his tears. Bruce sighed before he relaxed one arm as he brought his hand up to the boy's head, lacing his fingers into the ebonly locks. He suddenly felt small hands grip parts of his toga as the small body began to shake. Short whimpers were mumbled by the fabric, but soon turned into sobs when the dam holding Robin's pent up anger, fear, and sadness broke. He wailed into Bruce's chest, tears cascading down his cheeks. His legs soon gave out, making him fall limp in Bruce's arms. Bruce silently dragged the boy away from the shattered vase, before lowering himself to his knees on the marble floor. The little body in his arms remained limp, Robin's legs rested on the floor as his eyes began to grow heavy, his face still pressed to the man's chest.

10 minutes later, small hiccups worked their way out of the boy, his body convulsed slightly with each squeak. Eyelids fluttered open and closed several times before finally staying closed. Tear stains lined Robin's small red cheeks and coated his eyelids, his eyelashes were covered in little droplets. Robin's breathing quickly fell into a rhythmic pattern when darkness wrapped its cloak of slumber around him. When Bruce noticed the boy was asleep, he carefully hooked an arm beneath Robin's knees, while the other looped around his shoulders. Gently standing up, he held the boy bridal style. Robin's head rested against the crook of his neck. Bruce could feel the tear soaked lashes on his skin, before slowly getting ready to leave the room. But before leaving, he looked at the tapestry on the wall with a pained expression. Looking into his parents eyes he felt a small stirring in his heart, which grew stronger when he looked down at the slumbering child. It almost felt, dare he think it?

Parental. Especially after hearing about his parents' deaths from Wally.

Looking at his parents one last time, he made his exit. Back down the hall, across the velvety red carpet, and back into the room. Bruce carefully pulled the silk sheets back before gently bending down as he laid the boy on the bed. Leaning back up, he noticed he couldn't go far. Not with small hands tightly gripping his toga. Bruce wrapped his hands around the little ones, marveling at the size difference before prying them open to release the fabric. He stopped suddenly when Robin shifted in his sleep, a short groan escaped his throat.

'One down' Bruce thought as he finished open one hand. He moved to the next, and did the same, until both hands were resting on the bed beside the boy. Memories of his parents continued to play in his mind as Bruce tried to think of what comes next. Suddenly a mental picture of his mother kissing his forehead entered his mind. So leaning down slowly, the man copied the mental image. When he was mere inches from the boy's face, he felt a blush of embarrassment. He was a Senator, a tough guy, he wasn't used to tenderness and affection. So he debated whether or not to continue.

'Agh! Screw it!' He thought as he pecked the boy's forehead with his lips before bolting upright off the bed, and left the room, but not until after laying the silk sheets over the boy again. This was going to take some getting used to.

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*I am describing the Alfred Pennyworth from the 1960's TV show.

* Nettle was used in Ancient Roman ointments to soothe pain and inflammation. Pedanius Dioscorides, a surgeon in the Ancient Roman army who used various herbs to help his patients.

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Ok, so I don't know if Ancient Romans used beds or blankets or whatever. At this point I just have one thing to say! Writer's privilege! Haha!

Do y'all like it!

No flames please!