I don't own DC.
Chapter 6—
Sobs wracked his body, his fists clenched and unclenched as the boy fought for self-control. Tears continuously streamed down his face, falling and hitting the bright chrome floor. Slowly he sunk to his knees when he became too weak to stand. He wanted to stop and regain his composure but he was too far gone in his depression to close the flood gates. Richard hated the phase he went through; his wrists still bled from the deep cuts he'd carved into his own flesh. The hospital claimed to be keeping all sharp objects from him but Richard somehow found of way.
It was times like this when he wasn't Boy Wonder; he wasn't anything but a broken boy pulled between giving up, and continuing for the sake of saving others.
Choking and gasping for air, the fit soon gave way to hysteric laughter. He laughed at himself, what he'd become and the future he had in store. He rolled onto his back as the giggles soon subsided and he was just left staring at the ceiling. As he lay on the floor, he wondered how no one had noticed the mental breakdown. He listened to the machines beeping round him, the heart monitor still screamed critical after he had tore the wires from him and the IV drip leaked onto the floor above his head; the dripping was the only sound to permeate the room until a click of the door echoed through his empty consciousness.
"Richard? Oh my God?"
The relaxed haze that clogged Richard's brain dissipated as he was lifted back onto the bed and the doctor connected him up to the machines as she spoke to two men, all three faces stained with concern. Surely, just like everyone else, they wanted him to die; he wanted to die, that was why he had slit his wrists but now they were bandaged and he had no form of escape. He blinked, and forced his body to sit up as his mind struggled to comprehend the conversation going on over him.
He recognised the man standing at the door, as if afraid to enter, he was the police officer that Batman trusted, he remembered. If Batman could trust him then so could he. He shook his head, he wasn't Boy Wonder right now; he was just Richard. To distract himself, he looked to the second man, but that brought a swarm of sickening memories of grief as he stood over his parents' graves. Bruce Wayne had paid for the funeral and had been the only man to give his condolences. Commissioner Gordon had been there too now he thought about it, but hadn't spoken.
That had been years ago, why were they her now? Was he dying? Was Mr. Wayne going to bury him next to his parents? He'd like that; he'd prefer that to living the horror he was forced to endure day to day.
Wait…his slow mind reeled back to Bruce Wayne. He had money, determination to help and a knowing look in his eyes. He wasn't Batman…was he? The jaw said everything and that playboy act had to be a fake; no one was that dumb. In fact, just last week while Richard had been sat in front of the television, trying to focus on anything but the throbbing in his knee, watching the news story of Bruce Wayne turning down an international million dollar contact because of catches in the translated contract. He clearly knew more than one language to be the one to pick it out whatever he said about his advisors bring the one to notice. He had to be Batman, it would explain why he bothered to see him in hospital; he knew he was Trace.
"Do you know who I am?" He asked the billionaire as he sat up with effort. "I know, but do you?"
"We met a while ago, do you remember?"
"Yes, I don't mean the first time, last time we met; did you know it was actually me?" He couldn't say it outright, the Commissioner and the doctor were watching.
"What?" The confusion was evident on his face without the mask to remind him to hide such an emotion.
"Never mind," he smirked, "you'll find out eventually, Mr. Wayne."
"Richard?" The doctor had a clipboard in hand and started to ask simple questions; what hurts, what can't you feel, are you comfortable, do you want someone to talk to?
"Like professional help, no, my mind is fine."
"If you change your mind, there are a lot of people to talk to."
He narrowed his eyes, "Since when?"
She paused slightly, and then closed her eyes, "I'm sorry you weren't given the proper treatment or care before this but I should tell you; I care for all of my patients."
"Ok." What else could he say? He wasn't use to the burning of hope he was failing to smother in the back of his mind. "What's wrong with me?"
"You've broken bones and we've got you on some special juice to make you strong again soon." She tapped the IV and Richard starting laughing again at her bedside manner. He'd matured immensely over the years but it made him feel warm to be talked to like a kid again.
"Richard? Are you feeling okay?" Leslie set about bandaging his wrists as she spoke to him softly.
He only laughed harder, looking up through teary eyes, he saw Mr. Wayne turn to the Commissioner with a look of shock. "This doesn't mean anything; he won't go to that hospital. He definitely doesn't need electroshock."
"Electroshock?" He stopped laughing as abruptly as he started and stared at Mr. Wayne with his best wilting stare. "You think I'm crazy? 'That hospital' is the loony bin. I've barely been awake for three minutes and already you're carting me off for good."
No one spoke until Mr. Wayne took the seat beside the boy's bed, "Your wrists, Richard, did you mean to cut them so deep before?" He asked gently.
"Yes, I wanted everything to stop."
"That worries us, electroshock is a last resort, none of us here want it to come to that but there is only so much we can do. We'll see how you go and if you feel better…" he looked to the policeman.
"Your request has been accepted by Child Protection Services, Bruce, there's only the matter of paper work. It's your choice if you want to tell him."
"What was the request?" Richard asked.
"What do you say to come and live with me when you come out of the hospital?"
"You'll be responsible for me?"
"You'll be my ward and I'll be your guardian."
"Why? What are your intentions?"
"I can tell you another time, I could even show you, in fact. But it's all up to you."
"Can I….?"
"Trust me? I hope you can. How about I come and see you the day after tomorrow? You don't have to choose straight away after you just woke up."
"I'm staying here over night?" He asked Leslie after Mr. Wayne stood.
"Yes, Richard."
"Stop saying my name. I've shamed that name."
"You haven't shamed anyone."
He looked at her intently and without blinking whispered, "I'm not staying here over night."
"You'll be safe, I assure you."
"Safe from whom? Call it paranoia but I'm not particularly convinced. This is the free clinic right? Anyone can come in here, anyone. Who knows I'm here?"
"Who would be after you, Richard?"
"Wilson always said he knew people to accept the adoption and avoid CPS, they'll find and kill me."
"Would you feel better if I had an officer stay outside this door?" The Commissioner asked.
Richard looked around the sterile room, the window above his head couldn't be opened but I fan on his bedside sufficed it's purpose; beside it a flower hung limp in a blue vase, on touching it, he found it to be plastic. Sitting up, he craned his neck to look at the machines around him and the needles stained with his blood had been picked up and put on the side. When his gaze snagged on it, Dr. Leslie picked it up and also gathered all of the other equipment that he could use to hurt himself.
Finding himself, to have been distracted by searching the room for dangers, he turned back to the Commissioner. Richard gave him the softest puppy dog eyes; he hadn't tried to look for a while but it was effective especially ow he was so thin and sickly. He pulled his knees up to his chest, wincing as he did so and only settled for hugging himself when the pain became unbearable. He could almost see the Commissioner melt in guilt.
"Which officer? Will you guard the door?"
"I'm sure I can do that." Richard tried a faint smile but closed his eyes, feigning fatigue.
"Lie down; sleep will help the healing process." Leslie whispered as she guided him back down.
"Thanks Commissioner; thanks Mr. Wayne."
He curled up slightly on the side that didn't hurt as much and closed his eyes. He kept them closed with great effort as the doctor arranged the thin cover around him; not being able to see her made him uneasy. The only reason he would stay the night, with her and the Commissioner both there; Batman—no, Bruce—seemed to trust them and the World's Greatest Detective was never wrong. However, he would still slip away, they couldn't pin him down. As much as he wanted he wanted the home Bruce offered, he needed to know the Batman better.
He waited for the sun to set and the buzz of patients die down to a low before he raided the room for his clothes, still blood-soaked and crept out. The Commissioner was sitting in one of the waiting room chairs with his back to the door he was guarding; with a cup of coffee in one and his mobile phone in the other he chatted to someone, clueless as to what who was creeping silently and skilfully behind him. Richard was dubious why Batman trusted him for a second but really he had no time for studying the cop.
"Barbara, don't be lazy. There is a packet of instant noodles in the top cupboard; just need to boil the kettle and pour. It's not difficult. You can't reach?"
Boy Wonder slipped past him and into the main foyer, regretful that his bloodstained clothes attracted attention. As he neared the exit, a security guard spotted him and spoke into his walkie-talkie before jogging after him. Broken knees or not, he was faster than the guard had first suspected and so slipped out. He turned hard left into the patches of greenery that surrounded the hospital. Pulling myself up into a tall tree, he glanced back to see the guard literally at his heels. Quickly and swiftly, he shimmied up to the top as soothing words from the guard echoed up to where he was perched.
"Can you get down? I don't want you to hurt yourself. What's your name?"
"Jim." He called back as he looked about for his next option.
"What's your last name?"
He saw it; the roof of the adjoining building was in a leaps reach. He couldn't make it; he adjusted his footing on the flimsy branch. "Gordon." He leapt.
His fingertips barely caught the edge of the building but never the less, managed to haul his light frame up over the edge. He scrambled up instantly and started running. Ignoring the determined twinge in every known muscle and ache in every bone was all he focused on as he ran. Don't pass out, he chanted in his head as he ran on aimlessly—he needed to get away from anything and everything. The warehouse was a safe place still and so that would be where he would head for.
Don't pass out.
His knees burned as if they were coated in lava, and yet he still ran. His legs moved on their own without command or thought, leaving Boy Wonder's mind to wander. Looking up to the night sky he saw the Bat-signal, no doubt Bruce had donned cape and cowl tonight; how long until he heard of his escape? Would he give in on the boy as everyone else would? All hope died in that thought.
"Escaped?" Batman leant back in the seat of the Batmobile and closed his eye behind his mask.
He sighed into the warm air of the car and then peered into the darkness beyond the tinted windows. He was well aware that this was cutting into his patrol time when Gotham needed. Alfred had called him to share the news and it was an unspoken understanding that Batman would look for him on patrol. The kid was still week and vulnerable; how he'd survived so far was a mystery but with broken bones and a delicate mental state, the kid needed help and Bruce Wayne and the Batman could help.
It would be a long night.
Chapter 7 is written, let me know when you want it up.