I don't own DC. (I would be cool if I did though.)
Chapter 12—
Convincing Boy Wonder was another story. After the night the identity was revealed, he left without warning and three days later, Bruce received a call from the Commissioner. Paper work was swift with the help of a little nudge from his bank but it was advised Richard stay in hospital for at least a week for them to monitor his poor health. However, as of then, Bruce was his guardian and nothing concerning the boy escaped him. The press had even gotten wind of the process and more importantly, so did Clark; the Boy Scout couldn't keep his mouth shut.
He had spread the news throughout the League, even those that didn't know his identity, still knew that Gotham's billionaire was taking on the family life. It had only added to the bombardment of Boy Wonder questions.
"Have those two met yet?"
"Why can't we meet either of them?"
"Does Richard even know you're Batman?"
One day, Bruce had visited in hospital to see the boy sitting cross legged on his bed with his laptop and the headphones he'd given him. He chuckled every now and then; he sat down by him and Richard showed him the computer screen. He found he was looking at the camera footage of the League's conference rooms. The seven were arguing, no doubt over him. The boy had hacked the League computers again with ease. Batman reminded himself to explore his computer talents another time.
Closing it down, he pulled the earphones out, and with a massive grin, winked and said, "I've got an idea."
Bruce couldn't help but smile back, "Oh boy, should call up to put them in defensive potions?"
"What's the fun in that? Oh no. You tell them that I don't know anything, okay. If they want to meet me, they'll do it in civvies. I know who they all are, thanks to this beauty." He tapped the laptop affectionately. "I can mess them around a bit and as for the other me, well, you're only his partner, it can't be arranged for me to meet them. If it does come to that though, I'll make it short, just in case Clark decides to take a peek with his fancy eyes."
"You said you had good acting."
Richard's smile faltered slightly, only to come back a little less bright than before and Bruce had to resist face palming. Talking with the boy was like navigating a mine field; he had to be careful with what he said. The smallest thing said at the wrong time or phrased the wrong way could bring the boy's self-esteem crashing down. Not that the boy would admit, he guarded his emotions tightly; Bruce didn't know what he said wrong but he wanted that big smile back.
It was when a smiled disappeared altogether; it was always replaced with something a lot worse.
The first night back at the manor brought Richard had nightmares, the second night they worsened and Bruce had to clamp the pillow around his ears to block out the terrified shrieking when it reached a whole new level of fright. Apparently, that was normal; Richard had wondered aloud at breakfast if he should move farther down the corridor to ease the others' sleep. He did just that during the afternoon, with only a bag of clothes and his computer to move in the other room. However when the third night came, Bruce awoke from his own plagued sleep to hear the muffled whimpers from down the hall.
He'd had enough; he refused to let the boy to cry himself to sleep each night when Bruce had promised to do anything he could to help. He made his way to the boy's room. He knocked, when he heard the sounds from the other side of the wood had died down. A small sound was interpreted as permission to enter and Bruce walked in to see his ward curled up amongst sweat-soaked sheets. The billionaire sat on the edge of the bed and waited for Richard to emerge from his nest.
"It's not my fault, is it? I didn't do it. Tell them I didn't do it." He hiccupped between gasps.
"What could you have possibly done?" He asked softly, wiping sodden bangs from his eyes.
"I didn't kill them."
"Kill who?" Bruce turned his whole body to the boy and placed hands on his shaking shoulder.
"My parents. I couldn't save them. Now they say I belonged in Juvie, because I'm as guilty as Zucco."
"That's wrong, Richard. Who told you that lie?"
"The kids there and the matron." As he spoke, Bruce guided him down to lie flat again.
"Well, frankly, how dare they."
"But what if it is? Bruce, what if it was my fault?"
"After all you've done for Gotham, how can you blame yourself for something out of your control?"
He sat up in coughs, and Bruce reached for the drink the boy kept by his bed since his nightmares always left his throat sore. He helped the boy drink in silence and then Richard collapsed on the bed with a sigh. Bruce pulled a blanket from the cupboard and draped it over Richard, tucking it under his chin. He dragged the drenched cover from the bed, folded it and left it on the floor to be washed another time. Bruce returned the Richard's side.
He was curled up around his pillow, his face hidden but judging by the way he still shook, Bruce could tell he was still crying. He curled up tighter, thin arms pulled the pillow into a hug. He looked so vulnerable and distraught. If that was normal then there was seriously something wrong. Whatever it was, Bruce didn't like the way it affected his ward and sidekick.
Leslie had mentioned something about trouble sleeping but Bruce had assumed a safe environment would fix that. It seems, looking at the boy now, these nightmares were a lot more than they seemed. After so long alone with no one offering that contact a child needs to help them be healthy, or assuring him on his grief and unhappiness, it had left Richard broken. He didn't like the sound of that word, less so when describing Richard but it was true and there was no way to avoid it. They would fight it, and win.
"I'm sorry I woke you."
"I was already awake I had a nightmare too."
"What was it about?"
He didn't want to lie to him and yet couldn't tell him the truth either, that he kept seeing images of his suicide flash before his eye every time the boy stopped smiling. "A League mission went wrong." He said instead.
"Do they go wrong often?"
"It's never predictable, something always happens; it's a case of knowing how to react and adapt."
"You'd better know how. If you leave me, I swear, I'll never talk to you again."
He didn't question the logic, only smiled sadly. He brushed the child's tears away as they continued to cascade down his pale cheeks.
"I never want to be alone again, not for more than a second." He shook harder as he began. "I thought I was fine, on the street all by myself, with no one to hurt me. I was just empty though and now that void has been filled with the mourning of what I used to be, and what I could have been. There's just so much pain."
"It's okay." He whispered over and over again. "You're not alone. You're okay."
"No I'm not. I need help."
Bruce froze, quickly deciding that he never wanted to see those words again. Surely Richard had the same hope he had that he would soon return to health. However, he still ate little in the day and slept little at night, with the rest of his time either in the gym training or his room studying. Over-exhaustion had taken its toll on him in the few days he'd been in the house and Bruce knew he needed to step in when he refused to look after himself properly.
He'd thought of keeping him off patrol, but what did he have to as only a partner? Besides, Boy Wonder only helped him mentally, giving him that purpose and meaning and Bruce remembered what happened when that had been taken away from him. Behind the thick defences of the first child hero for America, Richard's mental state was just in pieces. The nightmares needed to go for a start, they were affecting the boy so violently; if this torment was a person, then the Batman's gauntlets would do the talking.
"What do you say to sleeping tablets?"
"Anything to make it stop Bruce, I don't like this."
"Me neither." He admitted.
He didn't care whether the boy slept 24/7, as long as it was a peaceful slumber then it was fine. Sleeping tablets were the best idea; it didn't matter if he only woke at lunch since he would be home-taught by Alfred anyway. School was out of the question, a bad idea for sure. They had established straight away that Richard's paranoia, inferior complex and insecurity would make it hell for him. Not to mention, he'd be an easy meal for the bullies at Gotham Academy. He couldn't bear to imagine the public schools. Richard wasn't ready for that, not yet anyway.
For now, he'd have to worry about keeping him from the evil clutches of the press and from his own dark nightmares. Glancing down, Bruce saw he had fallen asleep, no doubt cried himself to sleep. After making sure he was comfortable and content, he filled his glass of water up for him, leaving it in reach on his bed-table. Closing, the door quietly behind him when he left, he made his way back to his own room to see Clark of all people with a very bedraggled looking Alfred on his arm.
"Yes." It had to be business, there was no way Superman was dumb enough to call by at night for a chat and a kryptonite-laced—I mean, toasty mug of cocoa.
"Sorry, Bruce, but it's about Santa Prisca."
"Are the kids at the mountain?"
"Well, yes, Canary's going through some tactics."
"Rally them up; I think it's time for their first official mission."
"If you're so sure, we think Bane is involved. Besides, they don't even have a leader."
"This will elbow them to find one. It will be interesting to find out who it will be."
"Aqualad is the sensible option."
"Exactly, it will be interesting, I'm sure."
Interesting was one way to put it, they had snuck in and KF had spent ages at the computers until he found the formulas, by then the enemies knew they were there and battle broke out as soon as they left the room. A shot had clipped Kid Flash's arm and Miss Martian's head had hit the wall hard. Nevertheless, they had snuck into the back passage they'd found to come face to face with Bane, Kid Flash took the remote and Superboy took him out.
It had taken a while to tie him up with none of them really knowing how but the noise of the helicopter taking off startled them. Miss Martian rose above the tree tops and used all of her power, ignoring the raging headache, to throw the helicopter into the factory, however, not before noticing Sportsmaster jump out. Artemis had kept quiet and avoided the fight with him. She just sulked in her secrets as the rest of the team collected in the bioship.
"The Bat will have our heads, each one of them and he'll mount them to the wall and stick Santa hats on them at Christmas and…"
"Shut up, Baywatch."
"I do believe we are in trouble." Aqualad murmured as he ignored the lover's spat behind them.
"Everything went wrong; we were meant to recon and report, what happened to that?" Miss Martian bit her lip, "My head hurts so much, I can't fly the ship properly, Artemis can you take over for me please."
Artemis did so, casting a concerning look over to M'gann; her Father had done that, now Artemis felt angry. Who better to exert that anger upon than Kid Flash? "I'll tell you why it went wrong, someone needs to teach Wally to definition of stealth. Then he took ages on the computers, giving the opposition time to think and reform."
"Don't blame this on me, Arty Farty, I saw you holding back in that fight." He turned on her.
"Of course I hold back, I use a long range weapon." Snapping back at him made her feel better but all hope was lost when Batman's face came up on the screen.
"Batman, we our on our way back. The mission plan was…changed slightly." Superboy started.
"Team, report back. Have you chosen a leader?"
"I was appointed for that role." Aqualad spoke up.
"Then you will be the one to report." The screen disappeared and the ship was left in silence.
"Okay, we're going to need a second in command, if anything happened to poor Aqualad." Kid Flash leant forward; there was a desperate look on his face told everyone he feared what Batman's reaction would entail.