Forgotten Bonds – Chapter Eight

Chapter Eight
Vacant Gemstones

September 26th, 2008. Friday, 6:34 am.

The alarm was blaring loudly; the irritating sound bouncing off the walls in a grating manner – the noise that awful reminder of unwanted wakefulness, yet nothing was done to stop it.

Dick didn’t care.

The constant beeping rang and rang in his ears, swamping his mind with its noise; drowning out any and every conscious thought. The harsh sounds forever vibrated through the air.

Dick didn’t care.

After another minute of enduring the relentless noise, he rolled over and stared at the clock; the alarm still roaring its annoying sounds. Dick slowly reached towards the digital clock and shut it off. Silence flooded the room instantly. Dick stared at the glaring bright, red letterings of the time; a peace blanketing the air with the new silence that seemed to assault his hearing just as loudly as the alarm had.

Dick felt no peace.

He rolled over onto his other side, curling his legs to his chest as he hugged his extra pillow close to his heart. He was tired. His body ached in dull pain from the confrontation with Slade last night. He wasn’t going to get out of bed – ever again. No one could make him leave this bed. No matter what he did to him, Dick would stay. Maybe he should get some super glue and stick himself to the mattress. With a soft sigh, he stared at the clean white wall; his eyes glazed over.

He wasn’t wearing his mask any more.

Robin was unmasked and the one who was lying in bed at that moment was Dick Grayson. He wasn’t safe or protected any more. It was odd; the safety he felt beneath such a small article of clothing. Something so small, so insignificant, yet it was everything to Robin and Dick’s existence.

And now it was gone.

The barrier of his world had been torn down. Dick was unsure how to continue from here. He was confused and afraid. Without Robin, Dick wasn’t sure if he could continue any more. Robin had been his safety net; his security – the very thing that held his entire soul together. Robin blocked, protected the past from his mind. Dick had been hidden from the world for two whole years. He hadn’t needed to face who he truly was; he hadn’t needed to be reminded of his placement in the world – he only had to be a hero; he only had to be Robin, the Boy Wonder who was a leader and a protector.

But now he felt vulnerable, exposed and naked, and overwhelmingly depressed. Dick wasn’t that leader nor was he that protector. How could he, when he couldn’t even protect himself from the very evil that Robin tried with all his heart to protect him from? And no matter how hard he tried to lift himself up from the bed, his body felt like dead weight – just like his heart and soul.

What was holding him back? Getting up seemed like the heaviest of things. Was he just simply tired? Why did his body feel like the world was pressing down on him? Why couldn’t he get up and move on? Wasn’t Robin stronger than that? It was just a mask, wasn’t it?

But he wasn’t Robin any more. He was Dick and that boy couldn’t take this kind of treatment. Dick was fragile, timid; a gentle soul that could easily be crushed – and at that moment, his soul felt as if everything was hard. There was no other word to describe how everything just felt hard – difficult beyond anything. Nothing was simple; nothing was easy.

There was a burning that began to assault Dick’s eyes. He squeezed them shut; hoping to escape the heat that was threatening to bring forth the flood of tears from deep within his soul.

Well, whatever this weight on his body and soul was, it wasn’t something he could control. He couldn’t get out of bed, even if he wanted to – Slade would just have to deal with it. Dick couldn’t even bring himself to care any more. He didn’t feel like moving. He didn’t feel like eating. He didn’t feel like doing anything.

A hot bead slipped from his eye, sliding down the bridge of his nose.

ooOOOOOoo

September 26th, 2008. Friday, 7:52 am.

Wintergreen looked up at the clock on the wall, frowning slightly at the time. Normally the child would be out and about by now – he was running late this morning. The old man glanced down the hallway, just to check to see if the boy would be coming down the hall now.

It was empty.

“Slade, I’m worried about the child. He’s not rising this morning,” said Wintergreen, sounding concerned as he glanced back at Slade. “I knew you were too hard on him last night.”

“He brought it upon himself,” said Slade, sipping his morning coffee. “I warned him I wouldn’t tolerate his poor behavior. This is the price he has to pay for his disobedience.”

“Honestly, you need to be more gentle with him,” chided Wintergreen, taking a seat at the table. “I’m sure if you were, he’d respond to that more. You catch more flies with honey, after all.”

“I didn’t ask for your advice,” said Slade, looking at the old man over his mug; letting his mouth lift up to be seen through the opening in his mask. Wintergreen chuckled lightly, throwing Slade a very wry smirk.

“You never do, but since when has that ever stopped me?”

“Mmmm…”

Never indeed, old man…

“Slade, you really should listen to me, though,” said Wintergreen, turning serious. “You tore away his identity; his safe haven. You shoved the fact that you knew who he was the entire time in his face. He must be very unhappy right now.”

“Maybe if he wasn’t rebellious, then this wouldn’t have happened,” said Slade, his tone dismissive and unfeeling. “He knows I don’t play games.”

“And just what would you do if you were in his position?” asked Wintergreen, smiling knowingly as he looked directly at Slade’s masked face. There was a long pause before Slade let out an annoyed, yet tired sigh.

“I’d do exactly what he’s been doing,” answered Slade.

“Exactly, so this is normal. You really should be softer with him.”

“Not going to happen,” said Slade with a firm shake of his head. “If being hard on him isn’t working, what makes you think going soft will?”

“I just understand the child better than you. I have a sense about these things,” said Wintergreen, pouring himself a cup of coffee as well.

“Mmm, sure you do.”

“I do, Slade; I really do. Why don’t you go visit him this morning and try to cheer him up?”

“Cheer him up?” cried Slade, giving the man an incredulous raised eyebrow underneath his mask, even though it couldn’t really be seen. “Have you gone mad?”

“I’m not angry,” replied Wintergreen innocently.

“You know what I meant,” growled Slade; getting annoyed at the old man’s coy play.

“Come now, it’s not that hard,” said Wintergreen in playful, yet derisive tone. “Just go visit him and talk to him. Why not give him the day off, hm? Why don’t you two do something fun together?”

“Now I know you’re going mad. Deranged, completely deranged,” drawled Slade with a smirk in his tone. “Do something fun together? What is this, the girl scouts?”

“Oh, that’s right. You don’t know how to have fun,” said Wintergreen, calmly bringing his mug to his mouth without a smirk on his mouth, although there was a single twitch at his lips. Slade raised his eyebrow again.

“Will, is that a challenge?”

“Was it? I wasn’t aware that it was,” replied Wintergreen.

“Oh, please, old man. You just love to play your games, don’t you?”

“You know I don’t respond positively to ‘old man’,” said Wintergreen with a light smile. He continued innocently, “I recall once that I might’ve accidentally slipped too much starch into your laundry because I was so thoroughly affected by those two impish words.”

“Is that a threat?”

“Perhaps…”

Slade let out a low laugh, shaking his head. “You are quite something, Will. What, I’ll never know.”

“Why don’t you try to see how the child is doing, hm?” Wintergreen gave him an entreating look. He then added again with his innocent smile, “Would save me a trip. You know these old bones of mine… They’re beginning to creak.”

Slade smirked as he lowered the flap on his mask and stood up. “Oh, I know what those bones of yours creak with, Will,” said Slade dryly, before turning away to walk down the hallway; leaving behind a chuckling Wintergreen.

Slade strode through the hallway, stopping for a moment in front of Dick’s room; the label there being adjusted with the removal of the boy’s mask.

Slade knew he was hard on the boy. But he had to be. The boy wasn’t making it easy on himself. If he insisted on being so troublesome, then Slade had to set him straight. He had much to teach him. He had so much to offer in the realm of knowledge and power if the boy would only stop being so stubborn. This wasn’t just for Slade’s advantage – the boy would greatly benefit from his knowledge, from his wisdom. Dick would one day appreciate the effort that Slade was making on his behalf, of that Slade had no doubt.

After all, the boy was far too young and inexperienced to decide such things on his own. Slade had lived for many years, had seen many things, had passed through the River Styx and back – and lived to tell the tale about it. Slade knew exactly what he was doing with the boy’s education.

Sure, his methods were a bit unconventional, but Dick was an extraordinary boy – he could handle it. It would make him far stronger than he could ever imagine. Yes, he would be thankful one day; Slade was sure of it – of course, once the boy got it out of his head that he was going to leave. Slade had to do what he had to for Dick to understand. It wasn’t as if Slade wanted to beat the boy – but sometimes that was the only way to get through that thick head of his. It wasn’t as if there was any other way to get Dick to submit. Once he accepted his fate, he would appreciate it and even relish in it.

Dick would see one day. Yes, definitely.

Slade opened the door slowly without knocking and stepped into the room. He was a bit surprised to see that Dick was still in bed. He had thought that the boy would be up, but resistant in coming out. The boy was curled up underneath the comforter, close to the wall. His breathing was slow, but it quickened slightly at the sound of the door opening.

So, he was awake, but just lazing about in bed.

How irritating.

“You’re late this morning, Dick. Get up,” said Slade, trying to keep the annoyance he felt out of his tone. There was no stirring from the boy. He didn’t even move or respond. He just continued to lie there in bed. Slade repressed a growl. He hated it when the boy was deliberately obstinate. Why did he always insist on doing things like this?

“Get up, Dick. Now,” warned Slade.

There was still no answer; no movement from Dick.

Slade stepped to the bed and pulled the comforter off. Dick’s pajama clad form appeared. His legs were curled halfway and he was clutching a pillow tightly. He barely even flinched when the blanket had been pulled off.

“Dick, I’m not going to tell you again,” said Slade.

“Leave me alone, Slade,” whispered Dick, his voice sounding low and choked.

“So, it talks,” said Slade in a dry tone. “Get up, now.”

“You just told me again,” said Dick in a quiet voice. Fury pulsed through Slade’s veins. He reached out and grabbed the boy by the wrist; forcing him to turn away from the wall. Dick was rolled onto his back, looking up at him. Slade stopped suddenly; unnerved by the look in the boy’s eyes.

The normally dazzling blue eyes were darkened with listlessness. They held a glassless glaze as they stared into Slade’s single eye. They appeared almost vacant. Slade could just feel the terrible depression the boy was under. He hadn’t quite ever seen anything like it before. The boy’s eyebrows were low and the apathetic expression flooded all throughout his face.

“Are you going to hit me?” asked Dick in a soft, low whisper; sounding almost disinterested in his question. Slade fought the need to swallow, feeling completely set off guard.

“I will if you do not obey me,” said Slade.

“Do it, then. I’m not getting up,” said Dick; his eyes unblinking. Slade raised his eyebrow at the short powerful, yet indifferent tone the boy was taking. Was the boy serious? How many beatings would it take for the message to sink in? The boy was intelligent, after all.

“Very well,” said Slade, grabbing Dick’s other wrist; pulling him forward to stand on his feet in front of Slade. The boy swayed slightly as he did so – almost seeming to have no strength in his body.

That got Slade a reaction: Dick’s eyes widened slightly, but the reaction disappeared after a quick moment. Dick then closed his eyes and waited for the blow.

Slade complied with his expectations.

The boy whimpered softly as the punch connected with his stomach; doubling over from the impact. Slade pulled him upright before punching him again in the stomach. Dick let out a soft yelp at that. Slade pushed him back onto the bed; staring down at him with a cold eye. He ignored the stray tears that began to slip down the boy’s cheeks.

“Now get up,” snapped Slade. “I won’t allow you to mope around all day. You can just study today, but stop this ‘woe is me’ crap you’re pulling. Get up, get showered, get dressed, and get your butt in the kitchen within fifteen minutes or I’ll come back and give you another reason to obey that you won’t appreciate.”

Slade turned away from Dick; walking to the door in two long strides before slamming it shut behind him. He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself down. He was furious at the boy. Just how much was that boy going to try his patience? When was he going to learn?

Slade walked to his room; unlocking the door before slipping inside. His room held a large queen size bed that was positioned in front of the door; a little more than a foot away from the side wall and a number of feet from the door. On the right of the bed was a computer station with an office chair. He walked straight to it and settled deep into the leather fabric. He took off his mask and sighed, leaning his head back.

He could hear the sound of a shower turning on to the back right of the room – a sign that Dick was on the move. Good. The boy was obeying him. Why couldn’t he have just done that before Slade had beaten him? Why couldn’t he get it through that thick skull of his? It had been two weeks; fifteen days now. Dick was sharp as a whip; brilliant in all his studies. What was so hard about obedience?

There was a knock at his door before it opened slowly.

“Slade, I wish to speak to you,” said Wintergreen, slipping into the room.

“What is it, Will? Now’s not a good time,” said Slade, tiredly rubbing a hand over his face.

“This can’t wait any longer, I’m afraid,” said Wintergreen, coming to stand right next to Slade. The younger man sighed deeply before turning to look up at Wintergreen.

“All right. What is it, then?”

“It’s about Richard.”

“What about him?”

“You’re too rough with him.”

“Oh, this again,” said Slade, sighing dismissively. “Will, we just talked about this. You know what I’m trying to do with him.”

“I do know. But I still think you’re too hard on him. It’s affecting him, if only you—”

“It’s his fault for being stubborn,” snapped Slade. “He only does it to himself. If he only submitted and obeyed, then he wouldn’t get beaten so many times. It’s not that hard.”

“You can’t treat a child like this!” cried Wintergreen. “I just saw him before he went to the shower. He looks like death itself! What on earth did you say to that child? I told you to be soft this morning. He’s going to break eventually – inside and out. You need to soften your approach with the boy.”

“I don’t need to do any such thing!” snarled Slade.

“Yes, you do!” retorted Wintergreen, unaffected and not backing down. “Would you have beaten Grant? Of course not! Just because he looks like Grant doesn’t mean—”

“He’s not Grant!” shouted Slade venomously. He grounded his teeth furiously. How dare the old man bring up Grant. How dare he bring up old wounds. That had nothing to do with the now; the present. The old fool should just leave well enough alone.

“No, he is not,” nodded Wintergreen. “But he is a boy whom you are trying to train as your apprentice like you did with Grant. You need to think!”

“Get out.”

“Slade… Please, if you’d only listen to me—”

“Get out!”

Wintergreen glared at Slade for a few long, quiet moments. Then, with a grudging sigh, he turned away. There was silence as he walked to the door. Before leaving the room, he stopped at the doorway.

“Did you think that his eyes would be so blue?” asked Wintergreen in a whisper.

A soft quiet laced through the air.

“No,” murmured Slade with a sigh, after a long moment.

“Such stunning blue eyes, don’t you think?” said Wintergreen softly in a very gentle voice. “Filled with hope, promise, love, kindness, desire, fire – so much in those two orbs; so much to offer, it’s really quite amazing. Don’t you think so?”

With that, Wintergreen left the room silently. Slade turned to the glowing computer screen that lightened the darkened room. He gazed at it, not really setting his eyes on anything in particular.

“Like gemstones,” murmured Slade.

ooOOOOOoo

September 26th, 2008. Friday, 8:22 am.

Dick wrapped the towel around his waist and stepped out of the bathroom, shutting the light off behind him. He felt abnormally weakened and tired. The shower did nothing to invigorate him like it usually did. He pulled open his dresser drawer and selected easy clothing for the day. Since Slade had said he was only studying today, there was no need for training clothes.

He slipped into a pair of tan slacks and a green t-shirt when there was a knock at his door.

“Come in,” called Dick; unable to exert his voice very much. He wasn’t sure what was going on with himself. The door opened and Wintergreen came inside again. He was wearing that same concerned look on his face when he had appeared before Dick went into the shower.

“Are you all right, child?” asked Wintergreen, eyeing him carefully.

“I’m fine,” answered Dick quietly; glad for the old man’s calm nature right now. He wasn’t sure if he could handle anything more. Wintergreen furrowed his eyebrows as his eyes narrowed. He slowly approached Dick and raised a hand to his forehead. Dick didn’t have the energy to back away. The hand was cool and Dick found himself leaning forward slightly into the touch.

It felt nice.

“You’re warm, child. I think you’re getting sick,” said Wintergreen, sounding worried. After a moment of observing, he nodded firmly and said, “That’s it. Back to bed with you. I’ll not have a sick child in this house. Not while I’m still breathing.”

“But—”

“That’s right. Get yours into bed right now,” said Wintergreen, giving Dick a stern look. He pointed to the bed again. “Bed for you. Now. I’ll talk to Slade.”

Dick didn’t question it any more – he couldn’t; took far too much energy. So, he only nodded to the old man. Satisfied that he’d obey, Wintergreen left the room. Dick walked to the bed and collapsed into it; uncaring that he was fully clothed. He slid under the covers and sighed softly. His hair was still damp slightly, but it didn’t affect him too much.

Especially since he was asleep in moments.

ooOOOOOoo

 September 26th, 2008. Friday, 8:35 am.

“Where’s Dick?” asked Slade as he came into the kitchen. “We’ve waited on breakfast long enough.”

I swear, if that boy is disobeying me again, so help me…

“I sent him back to bed. So, we’ll be having breakfast without him,” said Wintergreen, filling Slade’s plate with a hearty breakfast of scrambled eggs, bacon, and toast.

“What?!” snapped Slade. “Will, how dare you override my authority! How am I suppose to deal with him if he can run to you?”

“The child was about to fall over,” retorted Wintergreen with a hard, stern glare at him; completely unaffected by Slade’s harsh tone. “He needed more rest. I think part of his depression is because he’s not feeling well. Why didn’t you notice earlier that he wasn’t feeling well?”

Slade’s retort died in his throat as he considered Wintergreen’s words. The old man had a point. Why hadn’t he noticed if there was something wrong with the boy? Slade sighed as the answer came to him quickly – far too quickly.

Slade had been too clouded with his anger to notice. It was always like that, though. He had only thought the boy was gloomy because he chose to be so. He had been too ready to condemn the boy that Slade hadn’t noticed his physical needs.

“I didn’t notice,” was all Slade allowed himself to say; sitting down at the table without looking at the old man. Wintergreen nodded lightly, sitting down as well with his own plate of food.

“Well, I’m not too happy about the child missing breakfast, but there was no fighting it. He’s probably asleep already,” said Wintergreen.

“What… am I going to do when he wakes?” murmured Slade, mostly to himself; setting his elbow onto the table to rest his face into his hand. After a moment, he looked up. “If he’s ill, then I suppose I’ll allow him to have the day off.”

“That would be good,” said Wintergreen with an approving nod. “That way he can recover faster. And he would like that. Why not do something extra nice for the child? It doesn’t have to be much, but maybe something he’d appreciate. You know, something simple,” Wintergreen added with an imploring glance.

Slade remained silent as he ate his breakfast; thinking seriously on Wintergreen’s words. Something nice for the boy? Something he’d like?

Hmmm…

ooOOOOOoo

September 26th, 2008. Friday, 1:07 pm.

Dick opened his eyes, feeling a bit refreshed from his rest. He slowly sat up in bed, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. The deep depression he had felt earlier had faded considerably and he felt strengthened. Maybe Wintergreen had been right. Maybe he had just been a bit ill.

Dick pushed the covers off and set his legs over the edge of the bed. He felt a little chilled as his bare feet hit the fuzzy, textured carpet of the flooring. He stood up and went to his dresser for a pair of socks. His arms felt chilled as well, so after he had slipped his socks on, he went to the closet.

Dick opened it, about to get a light jacket, before he stopped; looking up.

There was a cardboard box that wasn’t there before on the top shelf with the name ‘Robin’s things’ written in black marker. The writing itself was elegant cursive handwriting, yet readable. Dick found himself lifting his arms and sliding his hands along the sides of the box; testing the weight slightly.

It was decently weighted – not too heavy, not too light.

Dick lifted the box and held it to his chest. His arms wrapped around it easily. It was medium in size and folded closed. Dick walked to his bed and sat down, sliding backwards to lean his back against the wall. The box hadn’t been there this morning, meaning it was just put into his closet while he was asleep. But who would put it there and why?

Dick unfolded the flaps and was instantly shocked by the contents. Inside were a number of his personal effects that he kept close in his old room in Titans Tower. There was his black iPod Touch on the top. With trembling hands, he picked it up. He couldn’t believe it was real. He was just waiting for it to disappear from his fingers, only to wake up from the blissful dream.

He had missed music so much. It was one of the things that he loved. He loved all kinds of music and in multiple languages; seeing as he was fluent in quite a few. Not having any music for the past two weeks had been very hard on him. Plus, he had tons of photos of his friends on it. He turned it on; sliding his fingers across the screen to enter his passcode.

Had Slade really gotten this for him?

He quickly dug in the box, hoping to see if his headphones were inside. They were; large black recording style headphones. He also found a second pair of white earbuds. He slipped the black ones over his ears, the headphones completely encasing his ears. He plugged it into his iPod.

The soft, pop melody of one of his favorite Japanese artists played through and Dick choked back a half sobbing laugh. It was amazing how one could come to appreciate something so simple. He had taken something as simple as listening to a song for granted. He closed his eyes and leaned back against the wall; enjoying the peaceful moment.

And for just a brief moment, he could forget exactly where he was.

After the song finished, he let his playlist continue as he went back to investigating the box. Inside he found his old DS Lite game system and the collection of games he had with it. He couldn’t believe it. Video games. He had missed those so much, although he really missed playing them with his friends and not by himself. But this was still a treasure.

Next, he found a smaller hard box with an opened lock on it. This box he knew all too well. Inside were simple childhood things he had collected over the years. They were stupid, silly things; but to a child they were treasures. The box itself had belonged to his mother once. It had been her jewelry box.

The final item in the box was something he never, ever let anyone see and he was briefly mortified that Slade had seen it. But he still reverently lifted it out of the box, holding it carefully in his hands. It was an old, very old stuffed Easter lamb with light blue matted fur. His mother had given it to him when he turned five years old. It was a fairly feminine stuff animal for a boy, Dick had to admit; but at five years old, he hadn’t cared. It was one of the few gifts he still had left from his mother.

That was all that mattered.

He briefly pulled it to his chest, breathing in the musty fabric smell of its fur as he buried his face into it, before putting it back into the box. He placed his treasure box next to it and left out his DS, games, and iPod – along with their respective chargers. He folded the flaps of the box and pulled the headphones off; slipping off the bed to stand. He walked back to the closet and set the box back at the top shelf.

He turned back to his bed; staring at the leftover treasures.

Someone had gotten the items out of Titans Tower. Dick deduced that Slade probably had the very first night he took him away. Why go back, after all? Then, someone had to have brought the items into his room while he had been sleeping. He doubted Wintergreen did. The old man was decently nice, but Dick doubted that he had access to them if Slade had gotten them.

Which meant, Slade had brought the box into his room while he had been sleeping.

But why?

Why would Slade let him have something so special now? Especially after he had made the man angry this morning. It shocked Dick that the man had even gotten the items in the first place. And then now giving them to him…? What was the man’s motive? Had it been because Dick had been so down about his unmasking? Was the man trying to be… nice?

Dick walked to the edge of his bed; bending down and grabbing his iPod. He clutched it in his hand as if he were still unsure it was real. He unplugged the large black headphones from it and grabbed the earbuds instead. He plugged those in and stuck the buds into his ears, smiling slightly.

He felt a strong need to say thank you. It hadn’t been much, but Dick really appreciated it. If Slade really had gone out of his way to collect some of the most important items in his life and then return them, the man – at least – deserved a simple thank you. Basically being his kidnapper, there had been no reason to get those things for Dick. It wasn’t that hard to show gratitude and Dick wouldn’t begrudge the man a simple phrase.

He left his room and hurried down the hall towards the kitchen, finding Wintergreen resting in a chair and drinking from a mug. He was turning a page in his newspaper when he looked up, seeing Dick enter.

“Afternoon, child. How was your rest? How are you feeling?”

“I’m feeling much better; thank you, sir,” said Dick; making an effort to be polite. He hesitated for a minute, but continued, “Um, where’s Slade?”

“Oh, let’s see…” started Wintergreen, setting down his mug onto the table. A moment of thinking later, he said, “Probably in his room right now. Why, do you need something?”

“No, I just wanted to tell him something,” said Dick, tightening his grip on the iPod in his hand. “Would he be mad if I bothered him?”

“No, just knock and announce yourself. He’ll come out for you, I’m sure,” said Wintergreen with a warm smile on his lips. After a moment, he added, “Oh, and once you’re done with him, wait in your room and I’ll bring you a tray with your lunch. You need to keep up your strength.”

“Okay. Thanks,” said Dick, letting a smile lift his own mouth. He gave the old man a nod. He turned away and went down the hallway, turning to the left towards Slade’s room. Once he reached the door, he popped the earbuds out of his ears. He took a deep breath before knocking lightly.

“Um, sir? Can I talk to you?” called Dick to the door. He waited as he stared at the wood; fidgeting slightly with his shirt as he waited. He heard movement inside and then the door slowly cracked open. Dick stepped back, giving the man space for him to come out. Dick wasn’t expecting to be invited into the man’s room. Slade stepped out of the room; shutting the door behind himself. Dick looked up into his masked face; suddenly feeling uncertain how to say what he wanted to say now.

“You’re up. Are you feeling better?” asked Slade in a soft undertone.

“Ye–yes, sir,” stammered Dick. “Um…”

“You said you wanted to talk to me?” suggested Slade, his tone lilting lightly in a questioning manner.

“Yes… um… I just wanted to say… that… uh…” Dick trailed off, unable to formulate his words properly. Why did he have to suddenly be so nervous? He took a deep breath and tried again.

“Um… thanks, sir,” said Dick, rather lamely. Slade’s visible eye lifted as his eyebrow rose.

“For what?”

Dick pursed his lips nervously and lifted the iPod in his hand.

“You brought the box, didn’t you?”

“I did.”

“Did you get them now? Or when you brought me here?” asked Dick; carefully trying not to sound accusing, but innocently questioning.

“When I first brought you here, I had gathered some of your things,” said Slade with a simple nod.

“Oh, I see,” said Dick, looking down; feeling the nervousness rise back up in his stomach. “Well, I just wanted to tell you thank you. I appreciate the items.”

Slade’s eye widened slightly in surprise, but it quickly slipped back to its neutral state.

“Well,” started Slade slowly, sounding a bit awkward, “you are welcome.” Then, the awkwardness disappeared quickly again as Slade slid back into his impassive nature. He fixed a scrutinizing eye on Dick. “Will mentioned that you were a bit warm this morning.”

Slade’s hand reached towards Dick’s head. Dick flinched slightly, but the cool hand only rested on his forehead for a moment. Dick was surprised that he had flinched from the incoming hand. He hadn’t done that with Wintergreen, so why was he doing it with Slade? Dick couldn’t understand it.

Was he really afraid that Slade would always hit him?

But the man showed kindness at times. Like with his belongings and right now; the strong hand on his forehead checking for illness. Slade definitely was capable of softness. Why did he always have to be so harsh with him? Dick would probably respond better to the man more if he wasn’t so cruel.

Probably a good thing he wasn’t, then.

“You still seem a bit warm,” said Slade, removing his hand after another moment. “I want you to take it easy today. You may have the day off. If you take it easy today, then you should be better tomorrow.”

Dick nodded obediently. “Yes, sir.”

“All right, off with you, then,” said Slade with a bob of his head to the side; his eye showing evidence that he was smirking. Dick nodded again and walked to his room; a soft smile tugging at his lips. He shoved the earbuds into his ears and blasted one of his favorite rocks songs.

He went into his room and flopped onto his bed; enjoying the calm and relaxation. He didn’t have to do anything today! He grabbed his DS and quickly put a racing game inside. Switching the device on, his smile broadened. So, all he had to do was take it easy, huh?

Well, that was easy.

ooOOOOOoo

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