krikanalo: Oh my goodness! Thanks so much for being my first reviewer! I really hope you enjoy this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it!
It had been five days.
Five days since his suicide attempt, five days since he had been taken to the hospital, and, most importantly, five days since his last cut. He had to have his relief, but he knew Bruce had taken all the weapons in the house and hidden them somewhere he couldn't find them. He had spent his past few days at the manor pretending to be "Daddy's Little Boy". he was going out of his mind. He had been as patient as he could have been, trying to earn a smidgeon of trust from Bruce and Alfred. He knew they wouldn't let him out of their sights so easily.
Today they had allowed him some time outside, under supervision, that is. Bruce was watching him like a hawk from the back patio. When Alfred called that Batman was needed and Bruce turned his head to look at him, Dick took his chance. He dove toward the side of the manor and tried to find something, anything to give him relief. A sharp rock was on the ground. Without a second thought, he dug the rock into the flesh of his back shoulder, and at last had relief. He stowed the small rock into his shoe, and casually walked back as if nothing had happened.
Alfred Pennyworth had watched the manor grow and change over the years. He'd seen his own charge grow up, and had watched servants come and go. He had watched Dick struggle with the loss of his parents, clinical depression, and self-harm, but never in his wildest dreams did he ever deem the boy suicidal. It had made him question everything he knew about the child. The one thing he had picked up over the years that he knew would never fail him was his knowledge of the boy's habits.
Dick was an addict, that was certain. Granted, his addiction was to that of the common knife, rather than other assorted drugs or narcotics, but it was an addiction nonetheless, and was still just as deadly as any of the other drugs. The boy was coping alright from his point of view, still eating and being respectful to his father, but he could clearly see symptoms of withdrawal engraved into his features. When Dick had vanished from his sight for the small period of ten seconds, he felt a brief flash of panic, but relaxed when the boy rounded the corner of the manor.
The butler, although older in years, was still a bat. He sensed very clearly that something was amiss, but held his tongue. He knew better than to question the young master. That didn't, however, deter him from voicing his concerns to his Master. The child would not get away with hurting himself- not on his watch.
Dick was also very aware of Alfred's behavior, despite the englishman's tendency to appear emotionless. He knew Alfred would be talking to Bruce about this, which meant he needed a plan- and fast. He could feel the blood trickling down his back, and prayed a silent thank you to God that he was wearing a black shirt. He stood out in the sweltering heat, sweating rivers. That was another part of the plan, just in case Alfred decided to pat him down. When he finally did go back to the patio, his prediction was accurate. After checking him for any sharp objects, he deemed the boy fit to go inside, provided he took a shower.
Dick smiled as he retrieved the rock from his shoe, and got the water running. He cleansed the rock under the hot water before tending to his wound, savoring the sting as the soapy washcloth cleaned his cut. He continued to shower normally afterword, then sat down on the shower floor. He looked at the tiny rock with interest, studying it carefully. It was brown-speckled and black, and couldn't have been more than half an inch long. It's edges were jagged, culminating in one sharp point. he ran it across the back of his knee, watching as the blood flowed down his leg, first a bright crimson, then a deep red, and finally a sunset orange as it hit the shower floor and disappeared down the drain.
Just as he was digging it into his thigh, Bruce walked into the bathroom.