Author's Note: Luke is changing and Bruce meets him for the first time. It does not go well.

Luke 5

My name is Luke Martin and I think this is what you call acceptance. It's been almost a month since Dick said he'd be my friend for as long as I needed one. Since that first few days of high drama, I've mellowed out and am more or less on an even keel. I'm not normal by a long way, but I can pass for it easier than ever before in my life. Gordy Howe and his friends haven't tried to shake me up since that day in the locker room and could be considered friends as well if eating lunch and hanging out in-between classes together counts.

I don't understand what's really going on inside my head right now. Ideas about everything I believe or don't, the aspects of me that are like concrete foundations, are starting to loosen. My bloodlust and desire to hurt those around me is still there but weak. Yesterday I let the cat sit on my chest when I was lying on the couch and I stroked it. I stroked it. Why did I let it do that to me? I think I like cats now, but it's wrong because I can't like anything, right? But I love Dick and…I like the cat? It makes me feel strange. Charlie and Linda look at me differently and I can tell they like it. The awkward silences at mealtimes are less pronounced and I hear most of what they're saying instead of drifting into fantasy. They tell me they're proud of me and what I'm doing. It's weird to be accepted. I've never had it before and I'm struggling to deal with people's expectations. A lot of the time I feel ill and unbalanced even without the pills which I'm taking at least once a week now. I thought I was crazy for the longest time and sick in the head, but now it's all up in the air. It's better this way.

No matter how messed up my head is getting, I have witnessed all the things that Sarah Brinkley told me about with Dick. We went to the movies a couple of weeks ago and he went to use the bathroom halfway through the picture. He never came back. When I called him later that night, he apologized and said a family emergency had come up. When I asked him what it was, he hesitated to answer before saying it was too personal to say over the phone. That was an obvious lie, but one I let slide. It helps with the mystery. A week before that, we'd arranged to go fly fishing with Gordy and a few others down at the creek. We all waited an hour for him to show and then I got the text message that said he had to cancel on us. During the last four weeks, he's been absent from school three times.

He has scars too, unexplained injuries that remind me of my defensive wounds and fighting. Sometimes he's distant and not really there when I talk to him like he's thinking about something else that's bigger than school life or being a teenager. It's either that or PTSD and maybe both at once. If it's not domestic abuse then it's something worse. I don't think he's been molested, but I'm sure people have tried it on with him in the past. Sometimes I hear him crying in one of the bathroom stalls. It's only happened twice and he doesn't know I heard anything at all. It makes me realize that he's been seriously hurt before and in almost all the same ways I have, except he didn't turn into me. The only way that is even possible is if there are people stopping him from going over the edge. Bruce and Alfred are those people making him fight to hold on to what makes him human, but they're also not protecting him from whatever's hurting him. His trauma hasn't ended like mine; it's continuous and happening even now.

He hides the pain very well, but I can see through the act. Finally, after weeks of being good and level and even, Dick invites me over to hang out. We're picked up from school by Pennyworth and he reluctantly opens the rear door for me. We lock eyes for a few moments and he tries to read my intentions. I break contact and blank him while getting in. When he shuts the door, he stands looking at me through the window for another few seconds before returning to the driver's seat. I still haven't changed my opinion on the old man; there's a fishing knife in my backpack.

We get to the house and go straight to Dick's room. Pennyworth says that dinner will be served at seven. When we get there, I'm expecting to play video games or watch movies or any of the stuff that we've done before, but it's different. He throws me some workout gear, shorts and T-shirt, and begins putting on his own, a red and green singlet with glitter.

"What are we doing Dick?" I ask without making a move to change. He's already down to his underwear when he replies.

"We're going to go to the gym and I'm going to teach you to tumble." He says before thumbing down his boxers and pulling on the singlet. "I figured you might like that. You know, because it's different." I didn't hear the last thing he said; I was still thinking about how he looked naked. He's prettier than me. He's…beautiful. I must have been staring for a while because he asks me if I'm okay. I nod.

"Yeah, give me a minute."

I'd heard the stories about Dick's life in the circus. I've read the news articles about his parents' deaths and I've seen the YouTube videos of the Flying Graysons in action. But I've never seen him as an acrobat until now. He cartwheels, flips and spins across the mats like something I've only seen in comic books, but there's no sense of urgency or need to impress. He moves fluidly but seems to go in slow motion so I can see every position and stance he transitions through to get to the next. He wants me to learn and I want to let him teach me. I'd love to move like he does.

I pick up the basics quickly enough. I manage some forward rolls and then backward rolls before getting up to diving forward rolls and little combinations of the three. Dick coaches me every step of the way. He critiques my form and technique, but I don't mind him doing it. This is the boy I love after all and not some uppity English teacher or toffee-nosed servant; he likes me. He actually likes me. I like that. A couple of hours later, we're lying on our backs and staring at the ceiling. I'm exhausted and soaked in sweat, but I'm happy. I feel connected to him. I feel human.

"I don't normally teach people this stuff…" Dick says slowly. He's hesitating and I don't know why. We look other at one another and he smiles before finishing his thought, "But you're really good at it. I'm glad you came over." I know that Dick doesn't love me like I love him and he never will. I'm okay with that. But he does want to let me in. Just from the way I look at him he can tell I understand him better than most. He can't see my adoration for him, but he's not supposed to. That's my secret. But he wants someone to confide in. I shrug.

"I wouldn't have said no; this is the first invite I've had since I was seven. No-one wanted to play with me anymore."

"You're a good guy Luke. Whatever happened in the past…" I wait for him to finish that sentence but he doesn't. We both hear the footsteps and know this conversation is no longer private. When we look up, we see Bruce Wayne ambling towards us like a grizzly bear on juice. He's bigger than I remember ever seeing him on TV and far more composed and serious than his playboy lifestyle would suggest he was capable of. He's wearing a business suit and tie, both of them dark and looks relaxed in the corporate magnate role. Immediately, I know something is off about him, more so than the butler or Dick. His eyes just don't fit him. It's like there's somebody else inside peering out of the puppet and pulling strings. For the first time in a long while, I'm scared. It strangely feels good to fear again. We get up to greet him.

His bemused expression morphs into a thin smile. It is not welcoming. "Enjoying yourselves boys?" He asks us in a voice that is too restrained and cool for someone of his reputation. I soon understand that he is not trying to hide himself but letting me know that he is dangerous too. He levels his gaze on me. "You must be Luke. Dick has told me so much about you. I'm pleased to meet you." He informs me whilst extending a hand. I'm scared of letting him touch my hand; I think he might crush it. I can't let him know so I force the anxiety down and bite the bullet. His hand swallows mine. I keep my eyes on his.

"It's nice to meet you Mr. Wayne. Thank you for your help earlier with the media." I say. He inclines his head in appreciation.

"Bruce what's he talking about?" Dick says in something approaching exasperation. I jerk my head over to look at him; he looks bewildered by my statement. Did Alfred forget that part of the story? "What did you do?"

"We'll talk about it later." The man tells him whilst releasing my hand. "Right now it looks like you two need a shower. We'll talk more at dinner but I just thought it would be nice if I met your friend before then. Size him up, so to speak." He nods at us both, casts one last look over me and then turns his back and leaves with the confidence and superiority of a king…or a dictator. What do I think of Bruce Wayne? I think he likes having Dick under his thumb and keeping him in the dark. I think he enjoys manipulating him. That's what I think and I also think he knows I can't do anything about it, not to him. Once he's gone, Dick turns to me.

"What did you mean Luke? What did he do for you?" He's a little confused by what just happened between me and his guardian, but I'm not. Bruce wanted to know what he was dealing with. I could tell he thought I was dangerous, but I also saw he knew I was afraid of him. But that's a good thing. If he thinks I'm human then he'll think that maybe I'm not a monster and he'll let me hang out here again. I pat him on the back.

"The tabloids in this city were going to bury me and my foster parents. Mr. Wayne helped me out by cancelling the exclusive. That's all." Dick frowns at me.

"Why didn't he tell you to call him Bruce? He tells all my other friends to call him Bruce. He didn't do it with you." I think the answer's obvious, but I try to be subtle.

"I don't think he likes me all that much." I say. Dick puts his hand on my arm.

"Don't take it like that. Bruce is a nice guy; he just sees danger round every corner. Come on, let's go shower."

I come back from my shower still just in my towel and find Dick in the same position when I enter his room. He sees my scars, but he REALLY sees them this time. His eyes widen in shock and then relax. Normally in the locker room he's too busy worrying about hiding his own to see mine and the crowds and noise carpet us both in obscurity. He watches me as I gather my clothes from the chair I left them on and then speaks.

"You want to borrow some of my underwear? It's fresh you know so you don't have to worry."

"Yeah if you can spare some." He hands me a pair in silence and waits for me to sit down before speaking again.

"Do you ache a lot of mornings too?" He asks with a knowing smile. I smile back.

"You know what it's like huh?" I say putting on the underwear with my towel still in place. Dick nods.

"I know it's annoying as hell to wake up and feel like an old man." He tells me whilst rubbing his injured shoulder with a wince. I take note.

"With arthritis right?" I say hitching up my jeans and indicating his lethargic movements. He chuckles briefly and nods. "So how did you earn your badges of honor?" I inquire to make him frown.

"What do you mean?"

"Your scars. In Juvie we call them badges of honor. How'd you get them?" I say joining him on the edge of his bed. He's not uncomfortable with me being this close to him anymore; he trusts me not to hurt him. I'd never hurt Dick. I love Dick because he's like me and because he's better than me. I know he won't tell me the stories behind the wounds, but I know he'll think about it.

"I wish I could tell you, but I can't Luke." He says simply but is suddenly very emotional. I see him trying to suppress tears and know I've triggered something entirely by accident. I didn't mean to do it and I feel bad. It feels good to be remorseful. Dick makes me feel human, alive and human in a way that everybody else has failed to. It's because he's so emotional and I'm not. It's drawing me to him. His secret must be killing him to provoke this kind of reaction without any warning. I shake my head.

"It's no big deal. I'm sorry I asked. It's really none of my business."

"It's not your fault." Dick says composing himself, "Sometimes I can't stop it coming on like that." He looks directly into my eyes, "Some secrets are hard to keep hidden, you know?" I nod.

"Yeah, I know the feeling. Why don't you get some pants on and we'll play video games for a while until it leaves you alone. Sound good?" I say clapping him on the back. He smiles at me. He's got nice teeth.

"Thanks Luke." When he leans over I resist the urge to jerk away and am astounded when he hugs me briefly. "You're a good guy, really." I feel my heartbeat quicken in that fleeting moment his chest is pressed against mine and the heat of his cheek is against mine. I feel connected and more alive in that instance than I have ever been in my entire life. For that one second of contact, I feel more than I have in years. It's a platonic hug, one without any romantic attachment to it, but it feels like it's as deep. When his skin leaves mine, I can't utter a word. I just nod and we change in silence. I see him naked again. He's still beautiful.

We start to play video games and everything feels better. My name is Luke Martin and this is Richard Grayson…

My best friend.

Author's Note: Next up, Dinner with Bruce!