Author's Note: I may add more story arcs to Conditions if I feel it would be well-received.
Bruce
Jervis Tetch, A.K.A The Mad Hatter, is a weirdo. No sooner does the guy engineer one impressive escape from the Asylum, he lands himself right back there by reverting back to his usual M.O. The big guy and me were on his trail from the beginning; the minute a girl called Alice disappeared on her way home from school, we began digging. The disused haberdashery (fancy hat shop) in South Gotham, near to both the girl's school and not far from where Tetch was last seen was almost too obvious a possibility. But he was there…with her. It was the same scene I'd seen with him close to half-a-dozen times already; a table laid out for afternoon tea, a few heavy-handed thugs in fancy dress, the girl at the head of the table, Tetch at the foot. Admittedly, I leapt when I really should've been looking…and that's why I got caught out.
The Mad Hatter was using some kind of airborne chemical compound to control his helpers and the girl, not his usual mind-control circuitry. The gas was colour and odourless and I felt weak and dizzy as soon as I'd taken care of one guy. Pretty soon after, the crazy guy was whispering things in my ear and the psychoactive component of the gas was lowering my inhibitions. If Bruce hadn't been only a few minutes behind me, there's no telling what that pervert might've done to me; I knew Tetch was a convicted child molester and killer; who's to say his tastes didn't run to handsome, athletic boys in very short shorts as well as girls? Failing to find one of those boys, he could've settled with me instead. Probably shouldn't joke about stuff like that…
Long story cut short, the boss-man was wearing his respirator before he ventured inside, having considered gas as a potential weapon, and cut both Tetch and his zombie helpers to pieces within a few minutes. Luckily, the girl was untouched and couldn't remember anything too traumatic, besides being kidnapped. I was still feeling funny from the gas when Gordon turned up later on. Bruce kept me especially quiet while dealing with his inquiries and the finer points of the raid. He made a point of telling the commissioner I was fine. I would've told him myself, but as I'd started seeing rabbits by that point, I kept myself quiet.
So now we're back at the cave and the big man is synthesising me an antidote. I'm trying not to fidget on the examination table as Alfie checks my vitals every few minutes. I'm still seeing rabbits. And freaky colours. I should probably like this, but I don't. Truth be told, I'm pretty scared that Bruce won't be able to manufacture a cure and I'll be stuck hallucinating for the rest of my life. It's stupid, I know, because Bruce WILL get me the antidote I need; he never fails to do something when it's really important. He only forgets the little things. Like my athletic meets, gymnastic competitions, spelling bees, or birthday parties. And it was only ONE birthday; the guy's got plenty left to wade his way through; fourteen's not a huge number anyway.
"Alfie, I am seriously freaking out here."
The old man's outline is starting to melt. His words are getting harder to hear too; I guess this stuff is really starting to kick in now.
"Master Bruce is nearly there, young man. Just remain calm."
When Alfie puts his hand on my shoulder, I nearly jump out my skin. I did NOT see that coming.
"Is Bruce nearly done with that thing?" I'm trying my best not to sound terrified because I am terrified of what's happening to me. From what I can make out, I sound like a girl.
Everything is blurry now…and the wrong colour. Speech is unintelligible. I think I might be crying and then, just like that, it's over. There's one sharp pinch in my arm, a painful sting, and then the world slowly comes back into view. Bruce is in front of me, looking at me in something like relief. I feel his hand on the back of my neck, his massive, warm hand, and I know he's come through for me again.
"Better?" The big man asks me with half-a-smile. I nod, realizing too late that I have been crying; my face feels wet. I reach up to wipe away the evidence only for Bruce's other hand to beat mine there. He brushes what's left of my moment of weakness away without saying a word. He doesn't care if I bawl. He doesn't care that I'm not always an adult. He just wants me safe.
"I think it's time you went to bed, Dick. School tomorrow, right?"
"Yeah…" I really don't want to look at him so I turn my head as I get off the table. I want to be strong, but as I've already had tears running rampant over my face, I decide I might as well take it all the way. "Will you come with me?" I ask him, still not wanting to look him in the eye. That omnipotent hand of his, the one that seems to just materialize when needed no matter where or what, is on my shoulder, squeezing it.
"Of course." His voice is soft. His hand is gentle. It's always the little things with Bruce that I notice the most. And it's because these things are special. He only speaks softly with me. His hand is only gentle on my shoulder. I see a side of him he chooses to hide from other people. We begin to scale the stairs, still dressed in our uniforms. He always says no uniforms out of the cave, but he'll break them for me if he needs to.
He walks me to my room and removes his hand. "I am going to change. I will return in five minutes, okay?" He informs me. I nod.
"Okay." I watch him as he goes down the hallway, his cape brushing soundlessly against the carpet. It's not human at times. I enter my room. After I've showered and changed into my PJs, I wait for him to return. Barely twenty seconds after I finishing dressing, there is a knock on my door. When I open it, Bruce is standing there clad in his usual dressing gown and slippers. He's holding a couple of mugs as well. I gesture at the mugs. "What kind of tea is it?"
"Chamomile. Alfred suggests it will help you sleep tonight. I thought we could sit and talk for a while." He says entering the room and crossing immediately to the small table and armchairs set by the windows. I follow his lead before we both take a seat and a mug. I've never had chamomile before: it smells strange and I'm not all that sure until Bruce demonstrates its safety by sipping it. When he doesn't fall down dead, I sip it too. I guess it tastes okay.
"How do you feel now, Dick?" He inquires after a few minutes of silence. I take another sip and nod.
"Everything's fine now. I can't see anymore rabbits." He adopts an amused smile at my reply.
"You were seeing rabbits?"
"Yeah, they were everywhere I looked."
"It would seem Tetch is getting more imaginative with his repertoire." The man comments before finishing his tea and setting the cup down. He points at my sleeve. "How's your arm?" I rub it reflexively before shrugging.
"It stings a little. But I'll manage."
"Are you sure you're alright, Dick? You seem a little…subdued." Bruce says. He knows me too well. I'm still a little shook up by my antics earlier in the cave. I can't believe I actually cried in front of them over a few funky colours and complete lack of equilibrium. I shrug.
"I guess I'm just a little messed up from the gas. It was really scary for a while. I couldn't see or hear anything." Bruce nods in understanding and reaches forward. He places his hand over mine and squeezes it.
"It's perfectly normal to be scared when under the influence of such a powerful hallucinogen. A good night's sleep should help ease the stress you're feeling." I want him to hold me right now. I don't know why. Maybe it affected me more than usual this time or maybe it's just the drugs making me needy. If I asked him to, he would without hesitation, but I'd feel really bad about my behavior so I just nod in gratitude for his certainty. When I can't meet his gaze, his hand moves away from mine and tilts my chin up so I have to look at him. "Dick, please tell me what's wrong." Nothing I say can make him hate me: I know that. But I'm too embarrassed to articulate what's going around in my head. His eyes are definitely trying to coax some kind of response from me though. They don't try to see through me like he could do being a master detective and all, only offer the patience and understanding that I know many adults simply don't have. Silence is not awkward for him, neither is the absence of a reply in any form. He will wait as long as is needed for me to speak. He'd wait all night for it.
"Did I…" I falter. His thumb strokes my jaw. I never get over how ridiculously light his touch can be with hands that could engulf half my face. It makes me feel secure. His eyes encourage me to continue. Just in case that's not enough, he articulates the sentiment too.
"Yes?"
"Did I disappoint you tonight? I charged in there like a moron and almost got seriously hurt." He shakes his head.
"Everybody makes mistakes in the heat of the moment, Dick. Yours, although avoidable, was not a costly one. The girl was in no danger. I had the situation contained. All I wish for is that you learned a valuable lesson in planning from what occurred. You must always try to think before you act, no matter the scenario or how close the danger." He explains in such a calm, unhurried tone of voice that he could be talking about furniture polish or washing detergent instead of hostile situations and psychopaths. I feel the relief come over me in a huge wave as he exonerates me of my self-inflicted blame. "Now if you've finished your tea, you should go to bed and get some rest." He says taking his hand away. I stand up and look at my bed with little interest before turning back to Bruce.
"Is it wrong to want you to hold me for a while?" I say, unbelieving of what I have just said out loud. Bruce's expression does not change.
"No, Dick, it is not. If that is what you need in order to sleep better, then that is what I will do."
"But shouldn't I just…I don't know…man-up and ride it out?"
"It is entirely up to you, Dick. Whichever would put you in a better mood for school tomorrow is the one you should choose." It always comes back to my needs. He's never once asked me for a personal favour. He never wants me to hold him or fuss over him like I always ask him to do with me. I don't understand how he can be so selfless. I move over to where he's sitting and wait. Bruce moves his hands out of his lap to free up space. I sit in his lap, bring my knees up to my chest and rest my head against his. He closes his arms around me, wrapping one across my shoulders and the other across my back and shins. Then I just close my eyes. He squeezes me to make me believe I'm in some kind of warm, cozy cocoon and completely cut off from the rest of the world. I feel that way when I'm with him like this. The world just ceases to exist for me. The only sounds I hear are the rhythmic beat of his heart as it slowly ticks over in his chest and his equally monotonous breathing cycle. After a few minutes, we breathe as one.
I feel him shift his hand from my shoulders to my head so he can comb through my hair. He takes his time and glides over my scalp, remembering not to linger on the scars from Two-Face. He knows I hate people touching them. Long minutes pass as he repeats the combing and the squeezing with a regular pattern. After almost ten minutes I nod to signal I've gotten what I need. He gently releases the pressure until it goes completely. I open my eyes and look into his. He removes his arms to leave me perched in his lap like some post-modern sculpture. I smile and nod again.
"I made the right choice." I tell him. He smiles back.
"I'm glad. Bed now?"
"Yeah." I say shuffling off him and back on my feet.
"You can man-up here and put yourself to bed to even the playing field." He informs me without moving from his seat. I smile and nod in agreement. I crouch low on the ground, put my hands down in front of me and kick up into a handstand. I then walk on my hands to the edge of the bed before completing a one-hundred and eighty degree turn and kick backwards to belly flop onto the mattress with all the grace of a hippo. It's stupidly showy and totally unnecessary for getting into a bed, but it lets him know I'm okay if I can goof around like this after what's happened. He applauds my efforts with a few claps before getting to his feet and crossing the room. I shuffle under the covers and watch him hover over the light switch.
"Goodnight Dick. I shall see you for dinner tomorrow evening."
"Night Bruce. I'll hold you next time."