Author's Note: This story is gathering steam now and may turn out to be a long one. I want to continue this fresh approach to reignite my writing and hopefully use the momentum to finish my other projects on this site. Luke and Alfred have another confrontation. Enjoy.

Luke 3

Charlie only drops me off outside the front gates after checking three times that I have a ride home and that Dick definitely said it was okay for me to come over. I tell him whatever he wants to hear until he finally drives off. I was going to cut the brake line on his car this morning. Maybe tomorrow. I've read about this place in local history books and the tourist information centre. There's something beautiful about how stark and lonely this place feels standing here overlooking Gotham. Whoever wants to stay here has to like deathly silence and the shadows. I find the gates locked and buzz the intercom once. I hear a whirr of machinery moving and look up to see a security camera staring back. Then there's a voice coming through the speaker.

"Can I help you, young man?" A haughty Englishman asks me and I instantly think of the gray guy from yesterday. I hold down the button to speak.

"I'm here to see Dick. He's got my notebook? I kinda need it back."

"Are you certain that it cannot wait until tomorrow? Master Dick will be back at school then."

"So what's wrong with him?"

"He had a touch of fever this morning, but the antibiotics prescribed seemed to have arrested the symptoms."

"Why can't I see him?"

"He's rather embarrassed about the whole affair. I would hope he can trust you to be discreet in this matter."

"I think I'd like to see him."

"Well, I'm afraid he is not admitting visitors at this time. You will have to wait until tomorrow."

"Do you remember me, old man?"

"You are the blond-haired youth from the other afternoon, are you not?"

"The one you didn't like too much."

"I apologize if it seemed that way to you, young man…"

"My name's Luke. Don't call me 'young man'." I snap.

"Well, Luke, I will reiterate my earlier statement: Master Dick is NOT admitting visitors today. YOU will have to speak with him TOMORROW. Good day." The intercom goes dead, but the camera stays on me. I stare at it for the longest time without moving an inch or blinking. The camera lens remains fixed on my face. It's almost like the old guy is trying to stare me out through a camera. I press the intercom button again without taking my eyes off the camera.

"Why don't you come out here and tell me that face to face. You do and I might leave. You don't and I'll stay out here until I freeze to death. Don't think for a single second I won't." I tell him bluntly. It is not a bluff – anybody who looks into my eyes can see that – but I wonder if he's smart enough to realize that too. A couple of minutes pass slowly without reply. Then the intercom crackles into life again and the voice answers in tired defeat.

"Very well Luke: you may enter."

The gates swing open and I wander through to the house. When I get there, I find the thin, gray man standing on the steps outside the front doors. He's dressed in a butler's uniform and has my notebook held stiffly in his left hand. I walk straight up to him. When I draw level with him, I stop. He is regarding me with a look of contempt and suspicion far greater than yesterday. I just stare impassively at him until he speaks.

"There was some frightful news on the Gotham Radio Network this afternoon. A Mr. Brunswick of your middle school was hospitalized this morning following an assault by an unknown assailant. They seem to believe it was a disgruntled student." He tells me in a frank tone, one that says he thinks it was me without having to voice his accusations. I gesture at the notebook.

"Did Dick find it useful?" I say. He nods.

"Yes. He found it most useful. You have remarkable penmanship for your age." The old replies passing the notebook to me. I put it in my backpack.

"Thank you. Look can I please just see Dick? He's my only friend here and the only one who would talk to me. Do I look like I want to hurt him?" This begging behaviour causes his face to soften. I think I've won out with my performance.

"Are you taking your medication?" I can't hide my surprise at him coming out with that line. I blink a few times and regain my composure.

"I'm sorry?"

"Your medication, the courses you have been prescribed to curb your psychotic tendencies and other imbalances, have you been taking them?" He asks casually enough like it's not a very personal and private part of my life. The urge to gut him crashes over me like a tidal wave and threatens to carry me along for the ride. I hold firm, barely. There's a two inch shiv in my back pocket that cries at my restraint.

"How do you know about that? A minute ago you didn't even know my name."

"I know who you are, Mr. Martin. The newspapers around this city are largely discreet with such sensitive issues, but the tabloid journalists are not. Your case has been well documented in recent years. Yesterday they published your name and a recent photograph before the papers could be pulled from print. Fortunately for you and your foster family, the papers were recalled before anybody could read them, except here where I order them via special delivery. With the incident at school today however, they will be back in full-force to make pariahs out of you and your foster parents." He pauses to clear his throat before leaning in slightly, "What did the poor man do to warrant such harsh treatment?"

"I didn't do it and you can't prove otherwise." I tell him. The old guy shakes his head.

"If you truly value your friendship with Master Dick, you will not try my patience with such vulgar lies. Have you ever considered that I may be in a position to help you escape your almost certain prosecution by the authorities if were to only tell me the truth of the matter."

"And why would you do something like that? I don't even know your name and I know you wouldn't help a demented freak like me. I can see it in your eyes. You think I'm doomed."

"My name is Alfred Pennyworth and you were not born this way, Mr. Martin. I fully understand the severity of your step-father's behaviour and the impact it has had on your psyche." He says to drive me over the edge. I knock him to the ground with a leg sweep as fluid as a liquid whip and jam my forearm across his throat with just enough restraint to avoid crushing it. I'm boiling over inside and I can't help but spit when I give him my retort.

"You need to stop talking before I garrote you to death with my shoelaces. You know fucking nothing about my childhood or him. You want to save me from a lifetime of prison rape and beatings? Fine, I confess. I knocked that asshole teacher unconscious with my elbow because he ignored me. I don't feel guilty about what I did. I'm not sorry you found out and if he's dumb enough to even look at me funny again, I'll throw him down the stairwell."

I'm knocked on my back so quickly I'm winded. The old man just punked me and I feel cheated. "From that display I would surmise you are not taking your medication and that all therapy you have undertaken has proven ineffective." Pennyworth says watching me from a safe vantage point. "If Master Dick did not find you as fascinating as I do, you would not have gotten this far. Be thankful he likes you. You are the first young offender we have ever admitted on these grounds." He adds as I force myself to my feet. When I turn my head to one side and spit blood, the old man looks concerned. "The reversal was not intended to cause trauma."

"It's not you. Anything sudden tends to set my body off; it's taken one too many knocks over the years to not seep some blood. I'm fine." Well, not fine at all, actually incredibly fucked-up in every department except my looks, but I've caused enough of a scene already. I got so caught up in this guy's accusations that I forgot why I came here in the first place. I still want to know Dick's big secret and I want to know as soon as possible. So I apologize even though I don't mean a word of it. "I'm sorry about lying to you. And I'm sorry about hurting you just now. You're right: my step-dad destroyed any chance I had to be normal and well-adjusted and no amount of therapy has helped me so far. Dick is the only person I've ever tried to connect with and I don't want to ruin it. If you can help me stop these tabloid sensationalists killing my livelihood I'd be grateful, Mr. Pennyworth, really I would."

"I shall speak to Mr. Wayne about the issue as soon as he returns home." The old man tells me as if it's charity time again. I manage to incline my head in something like gratitude but my hand is already closed around the shiv and ready to strike. I measure my words carefully.

"Can I see Dick now?"

"No. You may see him tomorrow or else I shall call the authorities to have you forcibly escorted off the premises. I suggest you take your medication and try to talk about your experiences. Good day." I stop myself lunging for him by squeezing the shiv hard enough to raze my hand and saturate my back pocket in fresh blood. It makes me temporarily bite my tongue and forget the instinct to mutilate. I watch him turn his back and begin to walk back inside the house.

"Will you at least tell him I said 'hi'?" I call before the guy's out of earshot; he ignores me and shuts the door behind him. I take my hand out and inspect the damage. Even though it's badly lacerated and bleeding profusely, I hardly feel a thing. My hand doesn't even register the pain by shaking and is perfectly still. I want to murder Alfred Pennyworth and I want Dick to watch. I collect myself as best I can and begin to walk the nine miles back to the foster house in the suburbs.

I don't think about anything on the journey back except what the real story behind Pennyworth's lies is. Fevers don't come on like that, not in this place. Dick's shoulder and other injuries must be bothering him. The old guy is covering for the kid and protecting the big secret too. He's ex-military for sure, probably SAS or SBS and an officer at that. He's hardened by the same heartaches and pain as I am even if they were delivered in different ways. Mine are all direct while his are indirect, probably from Bruce Wayne. It makes sense and is one of the few things in my head that does. I know I'm refining the search and my read on this situation is getting sharper. I decide when I'm only a couple of miles away from the house that I do love Dick. I also decide I want to help him out. I just need to know how and why I should. When I get inside the house, Charlie goes nuts at my hand.

"Jesus Christ Luke, what the hell happened?" He asks me after I strip off my clothes which are all covered in bloody handprints and coagulated puddles by the time I reach the kitchen. Linda retreats upstairs to be sick while Charlie sticks my hand underneath cold water. I shrug nonchalantly.

"I had an accident."

"What and those people just dropped you on our doorstep?" The man says angrily whilst pressurizing the wound with a gauze pad from their first-aid box. I shake my head.

"I lied to you. I didn't hang out with Dick; I went into the city." Charlie smacks me round the back of the head before he can understand what he's doing. He's pissed at me but instantly regrets it and jerks me flush against his chest, holding me tight.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done that. I'm just scared for you is all. Are you okay? I didn't hurt you did I?" He asks without letting go. He starts smoothing my hair and I want to laugh. You think after all I've been through and with forty-one stitches in the back of my head, a little smack is going to bother me? I shake my head.

"No, I'm fine Charlie."

"Okay. Okay…." He says finally releasing me and returning to my hand. "Please promise me you won't go off again without telling me boy. I really do want to trust you but you're making it hard work at the moment. Now, are you really taking your meds or not? Tell me straight son." I shake my head.

"Nope I'm not." I wait while he takes a deep, calming breath to steady himself before replying.

"Okay. When was the last time you took them?" The truth is since they released me into Charlie and Linda's care, I haven't taken a single pill in almost nine weeks. They make me drowsy, irritable and very slow. They give me feelings, but not real ones. I'd rather be crazy than a shell with lights.

"A couple of weeks ago." I lie.

"Okay, well, you take some tonight before bed and some more when you wake up and I think both of us would feel a lot better. Will you do that for me please?" Charlie's a good man and he loves me. But I can't reciprocate. I don't like him. I don't like his wife and I hate their cat. There's reasons for her and the cat, but not Charlie. The man has always been good to me and caring and understanding. He buys me my favourite ice-cream and never does my clothes shopping for me. I should love him back, but I can't. I can only think of making him and everyone else around me suffer. I am hoping Dick can change that somehow. I am hoping I can change. Charlie sutures my hand himself and does a good job; he used to be an EMT. I go to bed after swallowing my five types of pills in front of him. I expel them from under my tongue out the bedroom window five minutes later. Then I pull the bedding off the mattress, discard the pillows and my underwear, and go to sleep on the floor.

My name is Luke Martin and I am barely here.