Author's Note: I have a good finish in mind now, one that will really show exactly who Luke is and what he actually cares about, but that's for later. This is for now. Enjoy.

Luke 8

I wake up in a haze. I'm in a hospital bed hooked up to an I.V. and feeling so spacey that I must've been pumped with morphine. I don't remember much. I was talking to Dick downstairs and then we went back to bed. I had some pretty violent stomach cramps and then I blacked out. Now I'm here. I look around the room and see Charlie sat in the visitor's chair asleep. He looks restless and disheveled. I notice he's wearing pajamas underneath his windbreaker and wonder how long I've been lying here. I call out to him.

"Charlie?" He jolts back to consciousness and looks at me in utter bewilderment. Then he practically leaps out the chair and hugs me. I can't tell how tight he's doing it because my body feels like foam, but I guess it's pretty snug. I'm vaguely aware of him stroking my hair and kissing my forehead like it's some kind of miracle. "Did I nearly die or something?"

"Everything's alright now, boy." He tells me in a voice barely above a whisper, "Everything's alright now." Once he's had his fill of hugging me, the man composes himself and sits back down but is holding my hand in his. "Your appendix burst, Luke. We got you here as fast as we could and the doctors operated immediately. They reckon they got it all out and started you on antibiotics to clear out any infections. They said it was risky because they couldn't anesthetize you for the surgery if they wanted the best chance of saving your life. But you apparently didn't move or stir once during the whole thing. They checked your pulse four times to make sure you hadn't died because of it." Charlie says with a frown. "They also said that signs for appendicitis that acute should've been present for two or three weeks; have you been in pain at all and not told us?"

"I thought it was just one of my knife wounds playing up again. I didn't even know if I still had an appendix or not; I figured maybe they might've removed it on one of my other trips to the hospital. Is Linda not coming?"

"I sent her home to get some sleep; she's been here all day worried out of her mind." That's interesting. I let my eyes close for a few minutes; it feels nice and I feel dead.

"How long have I been out?" I ask finding my focus drifting to the sensation of Charlie's thumb stroking my hand. He's growing on me I think.

"Eighteen or nineteen hours. How do you feel?"

"I'm okay. Did Dick get home alright?"

"Mr. Pennyworth took him back about thirty minutes after we left for hospital. He wanted to come see you earlier, but the doctors said you weren't allowed visitors. He said he'd try to stop by tomorrow. I hope it's okay that I told him he could visit."

"It's cool." I say before managing to open my eyes again. Charlie's smiling at me in a way that I've seen before but never really understood. He really loves me and I don't get how that's possible. I haven't been all that great a foster kid for them and this kind of situation should only make it harder to stand my company, but not for Charlie. I kind of wish I could feel for him in the same way now, but there's still nothing. It's a shame. It's actually a shame. "Thanks for being here for me, Charlie."

I swim in and out of the room for the next day or so. Sometimes it's day and sometimes it's night but it makes little difference to me; all I know is I'm rapidly gaining my strength and lucidity back. By Sunday afternoon, I'm back on my feet. I'm still confined to the hospital grounds and it stings like crazy to move around, but I'm with it again. I haven't had pills blocking my violent tendencies in almost forty eight hours and already they're back like they never left. The flashbacks get beaten down by my rage and bloodlust overpowering them with raw imagery even more brutal and sadistic than anything my memories have got to throw at me. After days of feeling close to the edge and close to snapping inside under the pressure, I feel weirdly even and calm inside. I feel like I'm in control of everything I can be and that somehow I'm okay. My mind presents me with a clip show of the time my step-dad battered me with an iron in the kitchen, causing me to slip into a coma for two days; I beat it down with the image of a six-week old kitten having its eyes gouged out with sewing needles. The trauma backs off and I feel powerful again, lethal again.

Dick drops in as Linda and I are in the thick of a long-winded game of chess. It's strange to play such an intellectual game in a hospital, but satisfying at the same time. I'm not playing to win and have been stalling for Dick's arrival; if I wanted to I could trounce her because she plays like a seven-year-old. But I didn't and we managed to have a semi-decent conversation because of it. She told me that both she and Charlie want to formally adopt me as their own kid. When I asked her why, she didn't even hesitate in saying it was because they loved me. My short stint of being mostly normal and well-behaved has opened some pretty heavy doors with these people and apparently seems to suggest my acceptance, at least by Charlie and Linda, is complete. She says as soon as I'm back home, they'll start the paperwork to get legal guardianship. I don't really know how I accomplished this total change in her attitude but I'm glad I did; I like it, living at their house and having them look after me. I like being wanted even if I can't reciprocate the way they want me too. In my own way, I guess I must love them too. Even without my pills, I don't want hurt them or the cat anymore. When Dick announces himself, Linda makes an excuse and leaves us alone for a while.

"Jeez, you recover awful quick Luke." Dick says in amazement when I stand up and greet him.

"Hospitals are known for miracles. Thanks for saving my life."

"It would've been bad if I'd done anything else. I think I heard it pop." He says with a grimace. I stifle a laugh even though it's not meant as a joke and nod.

"I think I felt it pop. But I'm okay now. I didn't scare you too much, did I?"

"It freaked me out, but not as much as when I did some research about appendicitis. There's supposed to be pain, vomiting and fever as initial symptoms and it can go on for days before it ruptures; we had Gym as last period on Friday and you were running like there was nothing wrong and then like thirty minutes before it happened, we were talking in the kitchen. Just how high is your pain threshold? Just reading about inflamed appendixes made me queasy."

I've experienced so many different types and extremities of pain that I struggle to tell one form from another anymore. What I thought was a dull ache might have been an inflamed appendix or maybe the sharp tightness I felt was the appendix or the stabbing pain or the burning ache or any number of other things I've felt in the past few weeks. It's normal to me to feel some sort of pain in my body and it's normal to me to just ignore it. How high is my pain threshold? Who knows? My appendix bursting was the first time I've blacked out from trauma since I was ten so I guess it's pretty high. I shake my head.

"Well I'm fine Dick so don't worry about it. You want to play a game?" I say with a reassuring smile whilst indicating the chess board. Dick regards the current position of both colours' pieces for a few moments.

"Which colour do you like to play as?" He asks sitting down in Linda's seat.

"Black." I answer whilst lying back down on my bed to take stress back off my abdomen. I watch as he analyses the board for another minute. He moves the king to a safe square already knowing I've won. I move my queen forward and make the checkmate to end the game. He smiles at me.

"How long were you guys playing for just now?" Dick says reaching over the board to reset the pieces for both of us. I shrug.

"Something like forty minutes."

"She's not too good at chess huh?" He says. I smile back and make a 'what-can-you-do' gesture with my hands.

"She tries. Everyone likes a trier right?" Dick gifts me a grin that tells me he likes my sportsmanship. He knows I could've won a lot easier if I'd chosen to. I don't know how he knows that, but he does.

"I can see you do. It's nice that you let her get so close to winning. She made the fatal mistake three moves ago, right?" He's right. She moved her king into an inescapable trap that meant I could've moved any attacking piece and won. I bet he plays chess with Bruce and Alfred on a regular basis. I nod.

"Everyone makes mistakes, no big deal. Ready to play?"

The first twenty or so moves are heavy on positioning and minor on attack. Dick captures one of my pawns early but does not go further with the assault. We play in relaxed silence and appreciation of each other's talents. He's very good as I expected. My mind tries to distract me midway through a pivotal exchange by reminding me of the time my arm was forced against a burning stove and the flesh was seared into a pus-covered mess of full-thickness burns. I retort with an idea of slicing Bruce Wayne's ears off using nothing but a cheese grater and time until they're nothing but bloody and forlorn stumps. I win again and the exchange is evenly split with equal capture on both sides of a knight and bishop. Towards the sixtieth move, he makes his play for checkmate…and falls into my trap.

When his queen goes for my king, I stop him by eliminating the threat with a pawn. Before he realizes what's happening my queen is upon his king. Although my queen is taken by his knight, I checkmate him with my remaining bishop and end a very cerebral game with victory. Dick looks deflated by the loss but not broken up; he doesn't like to lose but at least he's not sore. He looks up at me and nods at my strategy.

"Well played." He says whilst leaning over the board to offer his hand. I shake it gingerly and return the compliment.

"Same to you. Everyone falls for that ploy, so don't feel too bad."

"Yeah but I have to; Bruce uses that all the time and I never see it coming." Dick grins at me, "He always plays as the black pieces too. I bet you guys would put on a hell of a show if you played each other." I hope I'm never strong-armed into a scenario like that. I don't like that man at the best of times but to test something as egotistical as my intellectual prowess against his would not end well. I briefly fantasize about embedding a chess piece through his eye and smashing the board into his mouth before answering Dick.

"I doubt I'm on his level." I say only for him to raise an eyebrow.

"You'd be surprised. How long until you're back at school?"

"Another week at least. I have to stay here for observation."

"That sucks. I can come by again next week if you like."

"I'd like that." Dick frowns after this reply before moving the table out the way and drawing his chair to the side of my bed. He drops the register of his voice dramatically before speaking.

"And about what I said to you on Friday night?" I nod.

"Yes?"

"You understand why it's important you don't tell anybody else?" I frown at him in confusion.

"Dick you didn't tell me anything. When I asked you if you did have anything to say, you said 'no'. I get you were joking about it before."

"Not that, the other thing…" I try scanning his face for clues first. When all I can identify is generic teenage angst I try my memory of the conversation. I skim over claiming he was a superhero and his guardian was THE superhero until I arrive at the tail end of it. He told me that he was still a virgin. I told him the same. He asked me if I ever felt confused and I said all the time without getting that he was talking only about sexuality. He said something else…what was it? Gordy Howe comes to mind but I'm not sure…right, got it. I stop staring into space and refocus on his eyes.

"The thing about you and Gordy frenching with each other after gym one time?" Dick flushes dark red, jerks his head frantically around the room to check if anybody else heard it and then responds in an even more restrained voice. It's funny and adorable at the same time.

"You want to say it louder? Yes, that; please don't tell anyone about it. I was curious and…"

"Dick, you don't have to worry. If you'd given each other a blowjob or something, that'd be pretty juicy stuff, but kissing? I won't tell anyone. I promise."

"Really?"

"We're friends, aren't we?"

"Thanks Luke."

Dick stays a while longer and then leaves. I watch him cross the road from the window and get into the town car with the butler. Pennyworth glances up at the hospital after closing the rear door, seems to consider something and then disappears into the driver's side door. I still don't like him, especially if he's still wary of me when I'm weaker than a newborn lamb. I guess he's just worried that Dick's getting too close to me for his or Wayne's comfort. It's true that Dick hasn't told me anything, besides that embarrassing story with Gordy, but I'm far from stupid. He figures if he tells me something that devastating that I won't be interested in knowing anything else. But I know how teenagers work and how they try to outsmart other people with true confessions serving as smokescreens to hide the real issues beneath. I play the same games with therapists and professionals and I'm really good at it, but I know the truth. He IS Robin and Bruce IS Batman. He doesn't have to tell me straight for me to believe it's the truth.

I have to admit that I was embarrassed when I told him my theory, but only because the happy pills I was on made me think I was crazy. Without them clouding the razor's edge of my mind, I KNOW it's the truth. It's the truth because it fits and because I know it fits. Dick's scars and issues are from a battleground, not a playground or a bully or a broken home. He's Bruce's little soldier boy while the man himself is commander and general. I guess how this situation came about and just how extremely trained Dick is, but I don't have to wonder anymore. I know the secret and I know why I find Dick interesting and why I love him. There's only one real question left to ask myself…

What do I do now?