Chapter 13: A New Home?
Harry did not let go of Jason's hand the entire ride. Jason didn't try to let go, either. They were both tense and nervous, with no idea what to expect.
Harry watched out the windows in an attempt to distract himself from the growing pit in his stomach, only partly due to how much food he'd just eaten on an empty stomach. After about five minutes (though with how fast the Batmobile was going, they could have driven twenty miles already), Harry was startled to recognize the Bristol neighborhood that Tim lived in. He tugged on Jason's hand and pointed out the window, then stifled a gasp as they passed Tim's house.
"Jay! That's Tim's house!" he breathed.
Jason squeezed his hand and managed a smile. "I see it, little hawk."
At the far end of the street, the Batmobile took a sharp turn onto a dirt road that descended until it entered a man-made tunnel, then they emerged into a large cavern.
Harry's eyes widened. "Jay. This is the Bat-cave!"
"Whoa."
"Here we are." The Batmobile pulled to a stop, then the back door popped open. Harry slid out, followed by Jason, who immediately took a protective stance in front of him. But he still scanned the huge cavern with wonder and awe.
Harry did the same. The cavern was huge, with actual stalactites hanging from the ceiling! There was a giant dinosaur, a giant penny, a giant playing card, and dozens of other random objects on display. Trophies, maybe? And there was also a huge computer console, and behind it a row of display cases with different versions of the Batman costume. Harry had never realized it even changed!
"Since you're going to be staying with me, it's only fair that you know who I am."
Harry blinked; the gravely voice was gone. He looked at Batman just in time to watch him pull off the cowl.
Harry gaped. "You're Bruce Wayne!" Harry had seen his face on various news programs and newspapers, the famous (or infamous, depending on who you asked) billionaire playboy philant—philander—do-gooder.
Then Harry's eyes widened further. "Tim was right," he breathed.
Jason, however, had the opposite reaction. He immediately backed up, pinning Harry between himself and the car. "You! You—you lied!"
Bruce Wayne—Mr. Wayne?—blinked in confusion. "What did I lie about, lad?"
"I've seen the tabloids! You, with your ward, you—you—" Jason couldn't get the words out. Then he clenched his fists. "You swore you wouldn't touch us!"
Mr. Wayne scowled (looking very much like Batman). "You shouldn't believe everything you read in the tabloids, lad. I have never touched my ward that way, and I will never touch either of you that way, either. You can even talk to Dick, my ward. He'll tell you the same thing."
"He's a good guy, Jay," Harry murmured.
"How do you know?"
"I can just tell. I have good instincts. You told me that."
Jason clenched his fists tighter, then very deliberately relaxed them. "Fine. Harry trusts you, and I trust Harry. But if you touch him or hit him or take advantage in any way, I—I'll find a way to kill you and hide the body."
Harry choked, torn between laughter and horror.
Mr. Wayne laughed. "If I ever do any of that, you'd be more than welcome to. Alfred would even help you."
"I do hope you aren't counting on me to help with that paperwork piling up in your study, Master Bruce."
Mr. Wayne winced. "I told you I'd get to it this afternoon."
"Indeed." Out of the shadows came a man in a vest and dress pants, carrying a tray with a single cup of tea on it. "That's what you said yesterday, too. And the day before that."
Harry stared, because that was a British accent. That was familiar. (He wasn't sure yet whether to be homesick or horrified.)
"I promise I'll do it today."
"I shall hold you to that, Master Bruce." The man—Alfred, Harry guessed—then spotted himself and Jason. "Oh. If you would have informed me, I would have brought more tea."
Mr. Wayne smiled sheepishly. "Sorry. I...got distracted. This is Jason and Harry. They'll be staying with us a while. Harry, Jason, this is Alfred Pennyworth, my butler."
Alfred the butler smiled softly at the two boys. "It's a pleasure to have you, my boys. Now I suggest the three of you head upstairs. I'll prepare rooms and more tea. Would the rooms across the hall from Master Dick's be acceptable?"
"Yes, that's fine. Thank you, Alfred."
Alfred nodded, sent one more quick smile at Harry and Jason, then turned and left just as quietly as he'd come.
Harry gaped after him. "A butler. A British butler."
"Told you he was a rich bureaucrat," Jason muttered.
"Not quite. I've never held office. I'm just a businessman." Mr. Wayne smiled slightly. "Now come along. It's getting late, and I'm sure you're tired."
He led the way past the computer terminal, then left them for a few minutes to change. When he emerged from a side chamber in sweat pants and a t-shirt, Harry gaped again. If he hadn't seen him in full costume, with and without the cowl, Harry never would have believed it was the same man.
He still wasn't entirely convinced.
Feeling an entirely different type of anxiety as he eyed the muscular bulk that the heavy, armored costume had concealed, Harry nervously took Jason's hand again, squeezing tightly. Jason squeezed back, his shoulders still tense, as they followed the man up a long set of stone steps, through a door, then up another set of wooden steps before they emerged from the wall—behind a grandfather clock!—into a study.
"We'll go to the kitchen first for tea, then I'll show you to your rooms. Some of Dick's old clothes should fit you for now. In a day or two, we can go shopping to get your own. And you should be able to meet Dick this weekend; he's off with some of his friends now."
Harry nodded slightly, his stomach churning with nerves and too much greasy food. Jason didn't seem to be listening.
Mr. Wayne led them along a corridor, down two flights of stairs, and around a corner before stopping in what looked like an informal dining room. The kitchen was attached and Harry could see straight through to it. And it was huge. But then again, so was everything else in the manor. The ceilings towered over them, and the staircases were wide and sweeping. Fancy portraits and landscape prints dotted the walls, with the occasional abstract piece in places with high traffic.
The dining room itself Harry only classed as informal because of the darker colors (Aunt Petunia always insisted that formal dining should be under bright lights in light-colored rooms). The wood paneling was dark brown, with a big oaken table in the middle, and the walls stood a bit closer than Harry would expect (though the room was still bigger than the Dursleys' entire downstairs). The lighting was currently dim, but Harry could see that there were more lights that were turned off, and there was probably a dimmer attached. The Dursleys had a dimmer in the guest room where Aunt Marge had always stayed, because she'd complained about bright lights in the morning. (Harry had always thought she just shouldn't get that drunk.)
As if summoned by their entrance, Alfred the butler emerged from the kitchen at the same time Mr. Wayne led Harry and Jason in. He set a cup of tea in front of each them—in real teacups, too!
"I took the liberty of laying out some of Master Dick's clothes in each of the rooms. The fit should be appropriate. And there are new soaps, towels, and toiletries in each of the bathrooms."
"Thank you, Alfred." Mr. Wayne took a sip of his tea and let out a sigh. Alfred smiled at Harry and Jason, then retreated back to the kitchen.
Tentatively, Harry lifted the cup with both hands. It wasn't heavy, but Harry had the terrible thought that he might drop it, and then what would happen? He took a tentative sip and found the tea lightly sweet and floral. Then as he set the cup down, Harry saw that he'd left a streak of grease on the side from his hands.
Swallowing hard, Harry tried to scrub it off with the side of his hand. But he only succeeded in smearing it further.
"Don't worry about getting the cups dirty," Mr. Wayne said. "They're meant to be used. Alfred will wash them anyway."
Harry froze, caught. Slowly he withdrew his hand and nodded. Then he kept his hands clenched in his lap for the next several minutes.
Jason finished about half his tea, then mimicked Harry's posture.
A few minutes later, Mr. Wayne finished, too. He stood up and gestured to the two of them.
Harry hesitated, glancing at the cups.
Mr. Wayne noticed. (Did he see everything?)
(Of course he did. He was Batman.)
"Alfred will take care of the cups. Come along."
"But—"
Jason grabbed Harry's hand and tugged (gently). Harry closed his mouth, but he couldn't help glancing back, then between the cups and the kitchen. It felt wrong to leave dishes behind, to leave a mess. Harry kept waiting for the other shoe to drop, for the shouting to start.
Jason squeezed his hand again, pulling Harry from his thoughts. Inhaling shakily, Harry gripped Jason's hand with both of his and stuck close to his side as they followed Mr. Wayne back up to the same floor as the study. They went the other way down the corridor, then turned one more corner. Halfway down, Mr. Wayne stopped in front of a door with a faded circus poster on it.
"This is Dick's room," he said, gesturing. Then he opened the door across the hall and a little further down. "This will be your room, Harry."
Harry's eyes went wide and his jaw dropped as he looked inside. The room was bigger than Dudley's! Almost twice as big! There was a huge bed with a soft-looking, cream-colored comforter pushed into the far corner, next to a big window framed with cream and white curtains. In the opposite corner was an armchair and a little bookshelf that was currently empty. Beside that were two doors. On the other side of the room was a big, nice, wooden desk, and beside the door to the right was a big, decoratively carved dresser.
"Here," Mr. Wayne continued, leading the way inside and pausing in front of the two doors, "is the attached bathroom." He pushed open the first door to show a fancy white-tiled bathroom with two cream-colored towels hanging from the rack and a huge mirror over the sink and counter. "And this," he pushed open the other door to show a huge walk-in closet with another (smaller) chest of drawers pushed into the back, with rods on the walls ready for hangers and shelves above them, "is the closet."
The closet was almost as big as their laundry room base.
Harry held tight to Jason, feeling utterly overwhelmed. He couldn't even form words, and there was pressure behind his eyes and in his throat. Repeatedly shaking his head, Harry slowly backed out, dragging Jason with him.
"What's wrong?" Jason asked softly.
Harry just shook his head, trembling, and pressed his face into Jason's shoulder.
Mr. Wayne looked confused and lost. But then he cleared his throat and led the way out. Jason gently pulled Harry along. He pushed open the next door in the hallway.
"Jason, this will be your room."
Jason stepped inside (pulling Harry with him), and his eyes widened. Harry glanced up, then clung tighter to Jason. The room was basically the same as the other one, only it was a soft grey instead of cream. As before, Mr. Wayne led them inside and showed off the bathroom and closet.
"Of course, you can decorate your rooms however you want. We can get you stuff for that later this week. And once I step out this time, I will never, ever enter your rooms without permission. Does that sound fair?"
"Y-yeah. Sure," Jason stammered.
Mr. Wayne smiled. (It was a small smile, though. Barely there. It showed more in his eyes than in his mouth. Harry got the feeling he didn't smile very often.) "Wonderful. Alfred will come and get you for breakfast around nine if you aren't up yet."
"Yeah. Okay."
Mr. Wayne nodded, made an aborted move to squeeze Jason's shoulder, then stepped back. "Oh. And if you need me, my room is at the far end of this hall, through the double doors. Alfred's is at the far end of the other hallway, past the stairs."
"Right."
Mr. Wayne cleared his throat. "Right. I'll leave you to it. Good night, boys."
He waved, then headed the other way—toward the study, not toward his room. Even though by now it was probably after midnight.
Harry immediately buried his face in Jason's chest, shaking his head again. "Too much. It's too much," he whimpered.
"You can say that again. Want to stay with me? The room won't feel so big with both of us."
Harry nodded.
"But let's shower first, okay? I'm sure if I touch anything with how dirty I am, something will explode."
Harry gave a watery laugh. "Okay."
Jason squeezed him once more, then let him go. "See you in a few minutes."
Harry reluctantly pulled away, then returned to the other room—he didn't dare think of it as his, no matter what Mr. Wayne said.
(Freaks didn't get bedrooms.)
Going inside, tip-toeing because he didn't dare touch anything more than necessary, Harry discovered a small pile of clothes on the armchair. The top pieces were clearly pajamas, soft fleece pants with the Green Lantern logo all over them, and a matching green t-shirt. They were worn, the pants faded and the t-shirt's collar stretched a little.
That was the only reason Harry felt okay wearing them. He'd never had new clothes in his life. He didn't think he could handle it. Even at Tim's, the clothes weren't new.
Carefully, Harry picked up the top bundle of clothes, finding a pair of jeans and a graphic t-shirt underneath, probably for tomorrow. He left them where they were, then tip-toed to the bathroom.
He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. The bathroom was about the same size as the one at Tim's house. A little bigger, maybe. There was a nice, soft tan tile line right about at Harry's eye level (there was definitely a theme). The shower curtain had thin wispy lines up from the bottom that looked kind of like wheat waving in a breeze.
It was nice, in a stiff, formal sort of way.
Harry let out another breath and set the clothes bundle on the sink. He spotted a new toothbrush and toothpaste in a cup next to the faucet as he did. That would be nice. Harry couldn't remember the last time he'd brushed his teeth.
Harry then went out to the main room and shut the door. He was pleased to find a lock on it, though it was a simple twist lock. He locked the door anyway, then locked the bathroom door, too. He double- and triple-checked the lock, then turned the water on. As the room filled up with steam, Harry toed off his shoes and set them reverently by the door. Then he peeled off his socks, t-shirt, jeans, and underwear and stepped under the spray.
It was warm. Comforting. Harry let the water run, shuddering at the dirt that ran off his body as he did. He found soap and shampoo in a little wire rack hanging from the shower head, just barely within Harry's reach. He took the soap and scrubbed his entire body from head to toe. Twice. Then he switched for the shampoo and washed his hair. Three times. Until the water finally ran clear. Then he just let himself bask in the warmth and the soothing smell of vanilla that reminded him of Tim's house.
When his fingers and toes were all pruny, Harry reluctantly shut off the shower, then pulled one of the towels off the rack. He gasped at how soft it was. He could sleep under a towel this soft. He hugged it for a moment, savoring the softness. But then he started to shiver, standing there dripping. So he dried off and toweled his hair dry. Then he dressed in the borrowed clothes.
They were a little too big—Harry had to roll the waistband twice and cuff the bottoms, and the shirt hung over his hips. But they were soft and comfortable. Then Harry tidied up the bathroom. He dithered for a minute for what to do with his old clothes, but eventually he decided to fold them neatly on top of the used towel and leave them on the counter. Maybe he could ask Alfred where the washing machine was in the morning.
That done, Harry reached for the toothbrush and toothpaste. As he did, he happened to glance in the mirror.
He blinked at the face in front of him. His hair reached his chin now, curling slightly at the ends and starting to stick up at the back. His eyes were bright, but wary. He was less gaunt than he remembered being. Cautiously, Harry lifted his shirt. He could still count his ribs, but there was a little bit of muscle there, too.
He…didn't really look like a street kid anymore. Maybe it was just his imagination, or maybe it was just because he was clean. But looking like this, feeling like this, maybe, just maybe… Harry could figure out how to belong here, in this fancy bedroom in this huge manor house, with a butler and miles of land, and the freaking Bat-cave somewhere under his feet.
Pushing the heavy thoughts aside, Harry brushed his teeth for longer than necessary, enjoying the minty fresh feeling in his mouth. Then he put the toothpaste and toothbrush back in the cup and left the bathroom.
Harry immediately felt overwhelmed again by the size of the room that was supposed to be his. He hurried next door to Jason's room, needing reassurance.
He found Jason on the floor in front of the armchair, clean, with damp hair, staring in disbelief at the space that surrounded him. He lit up when Harry came in, though, and held his arms out. Harry ran to him, nearly tackling Jason into the chair as he threw his arms around his big brother.
"You missed me that much, little hawk?" Jason teased, pulling him in tight.
Harry nodded, the earlier emotions suddenly surging back up now that he was safe in his big brother's arms. He pressed his face into Jason's neck, shaking again.
"Little hawk?"
"I've never had a room of my own before," Harry whispered. "They—they always said freaks don't deserve bedrooms."
Jason went still. "Who? Who called you a freak?"
Harry tightened his arms around Jason, squeezing his eyes shut. "My aunt and uncle."
Jason gently pushed Harry back. "Harry. I've never asked, but I need you to be honest with me. What happened to your parents?"
Harry stiffened, then looked away. "They died…when I was one. Then my aunt and uncle took me in. But they never wanted me. They spoiled my cousin and made me live—live in the closet under the stairs," he whispered.
Jason froze, his eyes darkening. Then he shook himself and pulled him into a tight, tight hug. "Then I'm damn glad you got away from them."
Harry shook his head. "I didn't get away. They…they left me. On purpose." Seized by a sudden fear, Harry grabbed the back of Jason's shirt, clinging to him. "You—you'll never leave me, will you? Even though—even though we're not out there anymore? You won't abandon me, right?"
Jason held him tighter. "I'll never leave you, little hawk. I promise."
Harry burrowed into Jason's chest, still holding on tight. "Good."
For a few minutes they just sat there, holding on to each other as their entire world turned upside-down. Then Jason pulled the throw blanket and pillow off the chair. He set the pillow next to him, then pulled Harry down next to him and pulled the blanket over them.
Harry curled into Jason's side, relaxing at the familiarity of the action, even though the carpet was a little too soft.
"Good night, little hawk," Jason murmured. "I love you."
"Love you, too, Jay," Harry murmured back, his eyes drifting closed. And even though everything else was upside-down, when he was curled up in his big brother's arms, Harry was home.