Forgotten Bonds – Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Thirteen
Smothered

October 13th, 2008. Monday, 7:03 am.

The next morning, Dick opened his eyes slowly. He waited for the usual wave of aches and pains he normally felt when he woke up, but found there weren’t any. After all…

Dick bolted up in bed; his eyes wide as he remembered the events of last night.

The man had walloped him like a little child! Dick’s face burned with mortification and embarrassment. He had been draped over the man’s knees like a bratty kid! He dropped his face into his hands; shaking his head slightly. That was not cool – completely uncool if ever he saw. He’d never live this down. That had to be the strangest thing yet. How could this be happening to him? He seriously must’ve offended some higher power that he had to be tortured like this.

But…

There weren’t any bruises. There weren’t any broken bones. There weren’t any lasting aches and pains. Lifting from his hands slowly, Dick wiggled his seat in bed, just to test. Nope. He was perfectly fine; physically, that is – he wasn’t about to say mentally he was okay. That fiery sting had long since faded overnight. He was no worse for wear.

Last night, he had fallen asleep after a few minutes of brooding on the previous event. He had woken once in the middle of the night to see a tray of food and he had eaten some of it before falling back asleep. But he had completely forgotten to set his alarm. He was a bit later than normal this morning.

Dick threw the covers off and stood up. He didn’t bother getting dressed right away; walking against the carpeted floor to his door and opening it. He peeked his head through, looking for any sign of life. He could hear the usual sounds of Wintergreen in the kitchen, but there wasn’t any talking.

So, maybe Slade wasn’t out and about yet.

Dick walked down the hallway, holding himself nervously. His bare feet touched cool wood flooring of the hallway and then tiles as he walked into the kitchen. It wasn’t cold, yet he still felt the need to wrap his arms around himself. He was extremely confused over the entire matter yesterday. He felt docile and skittish; ready to bolt away at the first sign of danger.

Wintergreen was at his usual station: at the stove. Dick couldn’t hold back the strong wave of betrayal that he felt as he watched him cook. This old man was the reason Slade got it into his head to wallop his backside like some bratty little kid. That was a far too childish punishment for Dick. It was invasive and also just downright embarrassing.

If Slade was really trying a different approach with him, then Dick would just rather die. Bury him right then and there – six feet under in the dirt, if you please. There was no way on the entire planet that Dick wanted to be familiar with the man. He should’ve thought of that a month ago. This totally screamed parenting. What was the man trying to do – bond with him or something? Dick nearly shivered at the thought.

Good grief, heaven forbid.

“Good morning. Did you sleep well?” asked Wintergreen, turning slightly to acknowledge Dick once he saw him. Dick gave the old man a slight jerky nod, not giving him a proper greeting. He was annoyed that the old man was acting as if nothing had happened.

It irritated him. A lot.

“Why’d you tell Slade to wallop me?” demanded Dick. He refused to say the word ‘spank’. That sounded something a five year old received for acting like a brat. No, thank you; he had been ‘walloped’.

Wintergreen raised an eyebrow, before chuckling. “Right to the point as usual.”

“Answer me,” said Dick, narrowing his eyes. “Why now?”

Wintergreen frowned, turning to Dick. He took a step closer to him and Dick responded by backing up a few paces, feeling extremely vulnerable; his arms tightening around his chest.

“Don’t take that tone with me, young man,” said Wintergreen, putting his hands on his hips. He pointed to a chair before continuing. “Sit down if you want some answers, but don’t you dare have that impertinent attitude with me.”

Dick hesitated for a moment; eyeing the old man warily. Finally, with the movement of a skittish animal, Dick took a few steps to a chair; slipping into it nervously.

“I know what you’re trying to do,” said Dick; the words tumbling quickly from his mouth. His arms were still wrapped defensively around his chest.

“Oh?” said Wintergreen, sounding amused. “And tell me, just what exactly do you think I’m trying to do?”

“You’re trying to get me to… to bond with him,” said Dick, saying the word as if it tasted bitter on his tongue.

“Is that right?”

“Don’t play coy, old man! You know that you are!”

“You should feel very thankful you’re sitting down,” said Wintergreen dryly. “Although continue with this ‘old man’ stuff and it might not matter any more.”

Dick crossed his arms angrily. “Sorry,” he said grudgingly. He knew the old man would make good on that threat. He had, after all, started all this nonsense.

“That’s better,” said Wintergreen, his aged eyes glinting. “Now, back to the topic at hand: you think I’m trying to get you to ‘bond’ with Slade. Is that right?”

Dick nodded grumpily.

“Well, let me tell you what I’m really doing,” said Wintergreen with a firm fold of his arms. “I’m avoiding having to mop the floor with your blood – sometimes figuratively speaking and other times quite literally. I’m avoiding having you get terrible injuries that can only be healed with that serum. I’m tired of watching you always hurting, wincing, flinching, and afraid. This way Slade can still keep you in line, while you’re left with no permanent injuries. The only real blow is to your ego – which seems to have taken quite a big hit, I might add.” Dick flushed at that. “I know this whole situation is hard on you; but if you insist on being so difficult, then man up and accept the consequences for your poor attitude.”

“But—”

“And another thing,” continued Wintergreen swiftly, his expression growing ever firmer. “If you ever throw anything at me again, you can expect to have quite the educational trip over my knee. I might be old, but I’m no pushover. Do you understand me?”

Dick nodded sullenly, only to pacify the old man. Wintergreen seemed satisfied with it and, with a sharp nod, turned away to continue his work.

Dick was completely annoyed. He held back the growl that threatened to rumble his throat. He was completely trapped – trapped with two men that felt the need to treat him like a little child instead of the competent leader that he was. He was sick of it! He was fourteen years old, for crying out loud! He was too old for this kind of crap.

But the frightening thing was that he had absolutely no power to fight against them. Dick was pretty sure he could out do the old man in physical prowess, but if he crossed the old man and ran away, Slade was sure to find him; and Slade was just not avoidable at all. There was no way to overpower, outsmart, or outrun the man in any way. He was stuck.

The wave of emotions was overwhelming. His feelings were in such an uproar, it was beginning to make him ill. The constant flitting back and forth – from contentment to trapped, to fragile acceptance to hatred, to confusion to yet more confusion; Dick’s emotions were going wild.

Being trapped here was greatly wearing on his nerves – there was no doubt about that. He wasn’t sure what to expect now. Suddenly, he had the fleeting impression that he was in a home with a stern father and grandfather – only to have it bounce back and forth with his previous thoughts; an abusive captor and a useless old man. Dick shivered at the mere thought. These men were driving him completely insane. He needed time to relax and be normal. He needed a break – seriously needed one and fast.

He needed to get away. He was trapped.

His breathing began to intensify. He was beginning to gasp for breath. His heart began to palpitate and flutter in his chest. He curled his arms around his chest as his whole body trembled; crouching low to his knees. Something was wrong; very wrong indeed. His breathing was getting worse and constricted as if he were being suffocated. Fear began to flood through him as he was unsure what was happening to him.

He needed to escape. He needed to get away. He was stuck. He was never going to get out of here. Trapped – he was trapped. Can’t breathe. Confined. Alone. Scared.

Only single words and feelings flittered through Dick’s mind. He gasped, suddenly unable to feel the oxygen go to his brain. There was a flood of dull sound filling his ears; blocking out all other sounds.

Strong hands clasped Dick’s upper arms. Another hand gently rubbed his back. Someone was calling his name, but he couldn’t hear it right away. The hand on his back felt nice, though; and Dick found himself calming down slowly. Then, he heard the frantic voice break through his hearing.

“Dick! Breathe!”

It was Slade’s powerful voice. Dick’s mind registered the command and tried to comply with it. He took a deep breath and then let it out slowly. Stars popped in his eyes as the sound plug in his ears disappeared. His head began to pound with a dull sensation. Dick blinked. He slowly uncurled his arms; lifting up from his fetal position.

Slade was kneeling down in front of him, his hands firmly clasping Dick’s arms. There was a look of alarm across his maskless face that was quickly fading into relief. Then, it melted away into an emotionless expression as if he were trying to clear himself of such things. Dick turned his head to the side to see Wintergreen hovering over him with an anxious expression throughout his aged features. The hand on Dick’s back continued to rub him in a soothing motion.

“Dear child, are you all right?” asked Wintergreen finally, sounding thoroughly shaken. Dick only managed to nod slightly, glancing down at his lap. His pounding head was slowly beginning to fade. He still wasn’t sure what was going on. Did something happen to him? Why couldn’t he breathe all of the sudden?

Wintergreen looked down at Slade in worry. Slade, in turn, looked up at the old man.

“What happened?” asked Wintergreen, sounding extremely anxious. “He was fine merely seconds ago. I just spoke to him.”

“Panic attack,” murmured Slade, glancing back at Dick. “That’s the only explanation I have for what I was seeing. I’ve seen it once before when…” He trailed off and turned his full attention to Dick, who was trying very hard to breathe slowly. In and out. Simple thing to do, but Dick was having trouble doing so.

S–so… a panic attack? But… What the heck is wrong with me? I don’t—breathe… Don’t forget to breathe.

But… I can’t get panic attacks. I’m Robin, for crying out loud! Why is this happening to me?

Dick felt the strong hands on his arms slide up and down slowly; rubbing his arms smoothly.

“It’s going to be all right. You’re going to be all right,” said Slade in a low, soothing voice. Dick only nodded, his eyes wide. His brain was beginning to catch up to him. It was remembering a very important detail with all this: the man that was trying to console him was the very man that held him trapped.

Dick pulled away from Slade; pushing against the back of the chair and shaking his head in fear. Wintergreen’s hand withdrew in time and rested against his neck. Dick’s breathing intensified again. No, this man was the cause of this. He was the enemy. He wasn’t to be trusted.

“Ge—get away from me,” gasped Dick, his heart beginning to palpitate again.

“No,” said Slade. He continued to speak; slowly and carefully. “Not until you calm down. You’re going back into the panic attack. I’m not going anywhere until I’m positive you’re calm.”

“No, no… Stay away. You’re the reason…” Dick was shaking his head more vigorously, unable to calm the fear. The pressure of being trapped again flooded throughout his body.

The strong hands tightened and lightly shook him once.

“Dick, listen to me very carefully: you must calm down,” said Slade, emphasizing each word carefully. “Stop thinking. Breathe only. Take a deep breath—obey me and do it now!”

Dick sucked in his breath; startled by the sudden sharp tone. His brain obeyed – he took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

“Again.”

Dick obeyed again; taking another deep breath and letting it out. His mind was beginning to clear as he continued to breathe in and out slowly. Slade stayed silent as he watched him breathe. The hand on his neck disappeared, but Slade didn’t move.

Dick wasn’t sure how long he sat there, trying to breathe calmly. But during the entire time, Slade did not stand up. The man’s hands did not remove themselves from Dick’s arms. He wished they would – he seriously didn’t want to be near this man right now; especially after last night. But at the same time, he was somewhat thankful for the comforting warmth that came from the hands. If they just didn’t belong to Slade, then Dick would’ve accepted the soft touch.

After a while longer – Dick couldn’t be sure how long – Slade glanced up as Wintergreen came into view. The old man handed Dick a mug, which he accepted wordlessly.

“Some hot chocolate to calm the nerves,” said Wintergreen in a low undertone. Dick only nodded and brought the mug to his lips. He smelled the aroma of the rich chocolate before taking a sip. The sweet liquid slid over his tongue and down his throat, warming his insides immediately. He took a deep sigh and took another sip.

All the while, Slade did not remove his hands.

“Are you calm now?” asked Slade, after a few moments of watching Dick drink the hot chocolate. Dick slowly nodded. Slade raised an eyebrow as he studied him.

“Yes, sir,” whispered Dick, hoping the man would finally go away. Luckily, that worked. Slade accepted his answer with an approving nod and stood up slowly; flexing his shoulders slightly as he did so. He looked down at Dick.

“Are you all right now?” asked Slade. Dick was unsure how to answer that. Was he all right? Of course, he wasn’t all right! He needed to get out of this place. He was trapped with these crazy men who were more confusing than Mad Mod’s hypno-screens! Dick found himself shaking his head ‘no’ to Slade’s question. He wasn’t sure why he was doing that, but there wasn’t any way to stop it now.

Slade’s eye narrowed slightly.

“What’s wrong?”

Dick shook his head more frantically, not wanting to answer that. He took another sip from his mug, hoping that the man wouldn’t force him to talk. Slade merely sighed; accepting the mug that Wintergreen handed him. Slade pulled up a chair at the table; seating himself near Dick, but thankfully not too close.

“There’s nothing wrong, Dick,” said Slade in an undertone, taking a drink from his mug. “I told you last night; things are going to be different now. We’re going to start with a clean slate.”

Dick sucked on the edge of the glass mug, not wanting to voice anything. Everything was wrong. He’d even had a panic attack over it! He never got panic attacks. He wasn’t suppose to get them – he had to remain strong. It was so strange how much stress this was putting on him, even though he didn’t always feel it. It was there, though; buried deep inside until it would burst out like a volcanic eruption.

Dick closed his eyes, feeling tired. He needed something to do – something to occupy his feverish mind. Anything to just stop thinking.

“S–Slade, can we get started soon – you know; whatever you have planned for the day?” asked Dick in a low voice. Slade and Wintergreen exchanged startled looks for a brief moment, before Slade nodded.

“Yes, we’ll start right after we have some breakfast.”

Dick nodded in agreement as well; continuing to quietly suck on the glass of his mug. For the first time in the entire month of his capture, he was anxious to start with whatever studies that were prepared for him. Anything to clear his soul of any feelings.

ooOOOOOoo

October 14th, 2008. Tuesday, 2:08 am.

It was that evening, however, when the nightmare came.

Dick screamed in his sleep as the terrible images burned through his subconscious – those awful images of that fateful day his parents were killed. He bolted up; sweat pouring from his skin. He shivered as the air cooled against his skin and he began to violently tremble. He curled his legs to his chest and wrapped his arms around them; laying his face down into his knees.

It had been quite awhile since he’d had that dream. In Titans Tower, he had made sure his bedroom was soundproof to the others. He knew there would be times that he would revisit the nightmare – that terrible, awful memory.

He remembered everything all too well.

He could still remember the horror that poured through his small body as he watched his parents fall from their snapped trapeze wires. And then the sound… Gosh, he’d never forget that horrific sound. Then, the blood; the sign that something was so wrong, so terribly wrong. His parents weren’t supposed to bleed. They were his parents.

But they did.

The screams and cries of others had filled his ears that day. He had tried to rush to his parents’ sides, but he had been pulled away before he could get too close. He remember feeling angry that he would be denied being at their side. They needed him, after all. They were hurting. He had to go help them.

But the soft voice that whispered in his ear from the one that held him back told him that they were no longer alive. His parents were dead. They weren’t coming back.

It was then that Dick had screamed.

His mother had been right: life was precious. Life was fragile. No one should take another life away. It was a terrible, terrible, awful crime to take someone away in such a way; because the ones left behind had to endure their absence.

A sob racked Dick’s body. The hot tears streamed down his face to soak into his pajama pants. The trembles were consuming his entire being. No matter how many tears he shed, no matter how many sobs poured from his mouth, his mother and father were just not coming back.

He was completely alone.

He was trapped with a psychopath who could do anything to him. He wasn’t strong enough to escape the man. No one was going to rescue him from the man. It wasn’t as if Batman really cared in the first place. If he had cared, he would’ve gone after Dick the first day he ran away, after all. And while Dick believed – hoped, at least – that his friends cared about him, he doubted they could actually find him. Slade was too powerful and too smart; a complete mastermind. He had planned it out perfectly and carefully, down to every finite detail.

A wave of hopelessness flowed over him; completely drowning him. His sobs intensified as he tightened his grip on his legs. There was no one who could save him from the pain. There was no comfort for him – no comfort that he desperately needed beyond anything in this world. The terrible longing for his mother was enough to twist and tear his heart apart.

He needed some type of comfort at that moment, else he would fall into the deep despair forever. He knew it. And there was only one source.

Dick jumped up and darted to the closet, as if he were a naughty thief in the night about to be caught with his hand in the cookie jar. He threw open the door and grabbed the box that was still on the top shelf. With one hand supporting the box, he opened it; digging inside briefly to pull out the soft comfort he had always used.

The box was returned to its place without being closed, just as Dick didn’t even bother to shut the closet door, before he bolted to his bed; almost jumping onto it. The blankets covered him instantly as he threw them over his head. He curled up beneath them on his side, clutching the soft lamb in his arms with his legs tucked underneath him. He breathed in the old, musky smell of the stuff animal; trying to soak up its soft comfort.

He never really liked doing this as he got older. It made him feel like a little child. But those memories took him right back to that time – right back to that tender age of seven who still needed such simple things as a stuff animal to bring him comfort when there was no warm human touch to do so.

But he had always done this when he lived in the Tower. However, while it still brought a little peace to his heart, the poor lamb just was never good enough. It was always the same. It was soft and comforting in a gentle way as he held it in his arms, but it never held the same warmth that came from human touch – that touch that seemed to say everything would be okay, even in the deep pain.

But such things were forever lost to him, weren’t they?

There were footsteps outside his door suddenly. Dick stiffened; his heart quickening as he bolted out of the covers into the fresh air. He quickly shoved the lamb deep under the covers to hide it. He tucked his knees to his chest again, curling his arms around his legs; staring at his door fearfully. His room must not be soundproof. He had woken someone up and whoever it was probably wasn’t happy about it. The hallway light streamed through the cracks of his door before it opened.

Slade was standing in the doorway. He was wrapped in a dark teal bathrobe and his expression was furrowed. Dick couldn’t tell what the man was feeling; the darkness in his room obstructed his face in the shadows from the hallway light.

“Dick, are you all right?” asked Slade, walking into the room.

Dick’s face was freshly tear stained. He was curled up into a defensive ball. Of course, he wasn’t all right. He was miserable, confused, lonely, exhausted, scared – he was so many things, his mind was going crazy. The strain of being with this man was getting to him. He’d even had a panic attack over it. He was breaking down already; soon to shatter into an endless amount of pieces, never to recover again.

“I–I’m fine,” squeaked Dick at a higher pitch than he’d like to have done. Slade merely folded his arms and eyed him sharply with his visible eye.

He didn’t seem to believe him.

Slade walked over to the chair in the room and panic settled into Dick’s heart. Dick had to be in trouble now. Oh, gosh. The man must be furious at being woken up in the middle of the night by screams. Of course, he’d be angry. Who’d want to be woken up by screams in the dead of night?

Dick’s eyes widened nervously. The man was sitting in that chair. Dick must be in trouble, after all. The man was going to do that again – Dick was sure of it.

“I’m sorry,” cried Dick, his anxiousness pouring throughout his tone. “I swear, I didn’t mean to scream. Please, I’m sorry.”

He did not want to experience the man’s new form of discipline again. He didn’t want anything to do with him. Slade would either beat him or do that, but whatever it was, Dick knew it wasn’t going to be pleasant for him.

“Please, don’t—I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you. It won’t happen again. I swear!”

There was a deep sigh from Slade as he shook his head. He stood up. Dick began to panic even more. The man was going to drag him – no doubt about it. Dick pushed against the wall in fear. Why did this have to happen to him? Why couldn’t he be normal? Why did he have to have a panic attack? Why did he have to have a nightmare? Why couldn’t he just be left alone? Why did he have to be tormented like this?!

Slade sat down on the edge of the bed; his weight sagging the mattress. He leaned forward and grabbed Dick by the wrists, pulling him forward an inch. Dick was almost in tears again. Was he going to be tortured for the rest of his life by this man? Would there be no end?

“I’m sorry, please. I didn’t—I’m sorry,” gasped Dick; shaking his head wildly, unable to stop a tear from slipping down his cheek. “Please—”

“Dick!” snapped Slade, overriding him. “Calm down.”

Dick’s chest heaved in his gasping breaths.

“Calm down,” repeated Slade, firmly emphasizing each word. “You are not in trouble.”

Dick blinked; his rapid breathing subsiding as the man’s words began to register in his mind.

“W–what?”

“You are not in trouble, Dick,” said Slade, sounding somewhat exasperated. “Nightmares happen to everyone.”

Dick bit his lip and ducked his head.

“I didn’t have a nightmare,” mumbled Dick.

“Is that so?” said Slade, a smirk lifting his face. “Tell me, then – you spitefully screamed in the middle of night for fun? Now for that you’d be in trouble for.”

“I didn’t!” cried Dick hurriedly, his head popping back up to look into Slade’s face. “I did have a nightmare.”

Slade only smirked at him, in which, Dick frowned and then scowled grumpily.

“You tricked me,” said Dick, pouting slightly. Slade released his wrists and Dick immediately curled them back around his legs tightly. Slade looked mildly bored.

“I tend to be somewhat skilled in that area,” said Slade dryly. His expression turned serious as he positioned himself on the bed better; facing Dick with his knee pulled up onto the mattress.

“Dick, nightmares happen to everyone. It’s part of being human,” said Slade in a soft undertone. Dick’s breath caught in his throat as his arms slid out of their tight grip.

“Yo–you’re not mad?” asked Dick. A soft expression seemed to glance through Slade’s face before sliding back into his firm, blank one.

“No, I am not,” said Slade. “You don’t have to work yourself up so much. Nightmares happen. You have no more control over them than you do over the sun rising and setting every day. Same goes for panic attacks, I might add.”

At the reminder of his latest panic attack, Dick wrapped his arms around his legs again and rested his chin on his knees. There was a deep sigh that lifted through his chest.

“I must be really weak to have panic attacks and nightmares,” muttered Dick in a low breath. He had whispered it so quietly, he doubted that Slade had heard.

“The strongest person I know had a panic attack,” said Slade. “Panic attacks don’t make you weak. As for nightmares, they happen to everyone.”

Dick looked up at the man that was sitting on the edge of his bed. There was something different about him. Maybe it was the fact that he wasn’t wearing his mask; or maybe it was the fact that he was in a bathrobe; or maybe it was the soft, yet strong expression in the man’s shadowed face – whatever it was, Slade seemed very different than the task master he had been over the past month.

“Even you?” breathed Dick. The question had spilled from his mouth before he could hold it back. If this man had nightmares, too, when he had to be one of the strongest men alive… Then, that really had to be something.

Slade took a deep breath and gave a single nod.

“Yes, even me.”

“Really?”

“Yes, being in the army during wartime can plant some disturbing images into one’s mind,” said Slade. “While you sleep, you have no conscious control over your mind and body. While awake, such images no longer disturb me; however, asleep is a completely different matter.”

“So… you sometimes dream about when you were on the battlefield?” asked Dick in a low whisper. Slade leaned closer to Dick.

“I have seen things one shouldn’t see,” whispered Slade in response. Dick held his breath. “Humans should never look like they did in war. I have woken many times in the night from dreams of such things.”

Slade leaned back and Dick let out the breath that he had been holding. He looked away and bit his lip.

“But I thought you killed people,” murmured Dick.

“I do, when contracted or when I have to.”

“But…”

“War is purgatory,” said Slade. “Death is not.”

“It is for those left behind,” muttered Dick.

“Now that I can agree with,” said Slade flatly. Dick’s eyes widened as he looked up at Slade. There was no betraying emotion in the man’s face. It was completely blank; his usual impassive stance. Dick was about to open his mouth to ask who had Slade lost, but he held himself back.

He didn’t want to know. He didn’t want to hear the man’s pain, not when the man caused so much pain to Dick. He wasn’t going to sympathize with him. He wasn’t going to let the man manipulate his feelings and sway his heart.

There was just no way.

Dick settled his chin onto his knees; tightening his grip around his legs. He was so tired; exhausted beyond anything he could’ve imagined. He just wanted to sleep and ignore everything. He was sick of feeling, sick of hurting, sick of pain.

A hand rested on his shoulder for a moment; light, but firm in its weight. Dick’s eyes widened as he looked up at Slade once again. The hand itself wasn’t threatening. It was just there; settled with human weight and warmth.

A small calm flowed over Dick.

“Go back to sleep,” said Slade. Dick only nodded; surprised and greatly unnerved by the touch. The hand squeezed for a moment before Slade stood up. He walked to the door and turned back for a moment to look at Dick. He motioned with a finger towards the wall, in the direction of the bathroom.

“If you need anything, you know where to find me,” said Slade, closing the door after he spoke. The room fell into darkness; leaving Dick alone and blanketed in the shadows from the nighttime.

Dick put a hand on his shoulder; the one that Slade had placed his hand on. He could still feel the man’s weight and warmth, even through the fabric of his nightshirt.

That was the second time in only a day that he had been touched by Slade in a non-threatening way. With the rubbing of his arms during his panic attack and now the hand on his shoulder; it was so strange to Dick. Slade had shown that he was capable of softness before, but it was usually overshadowed by his violence. Now, with the prospect of no violence, the man seemed even softer at times.

He was still downright scary and Dick still didn’t trust the man to keep his word; but he hadn’t been mad over being woken up by Dick’s nightmare. In fact, he looked a little concerned – just like he had when Dick had his panic attack that day. Was he really trying to start over with Dick?

Dick slid back down so that he was lying on his back. He curled onto his side; looking into the darkness of his room. He liked it when people casually touched him – with kind innocence. It was reassuring to be touched, held, or hugged. His mother had constantly touched him, whether she caressed his cheeks randomly or cradled his chin – he had loved that.

It was one of the things he loved about the Teen Titans. The others had always been open in that way. The simple act of throwing an arm around one another, or a hand on the shoulder, or a slap on the back came naturally to them. It was something Dick hadn’t experienced when he lived with Bruce and he had terribly missed the human touch he experienced from his parents. Starfire’s flying hugs, or better known as glomps, were the best; although, they were very bone crushing from her powerful strength. Even Beast Boy’s excitable tackle hugs were also something he loved. The mere act of being friendly with other people made Dick feel alive.

He missed all that.

Dick pulled the covers to his chin; wrapping himself in its warmth. His right arm slid down and grabbed the soft lamb; curling the small stuff animal to his chest. His other arm crossed over his chest and slid underneath his nightshirt to clasp the warm skin of his shoulder; his head resting on that hand over his nightshirt.

He felt strangely a little better. Any other time, he wouldn’t have been able to go back to sleep. In Titans Tower, he would’ve just gotten up and done some kind of work to take his mind off his nightmare.

He was exhausted, but somehow felt calmer. It felt odd taking comfort in a single touch, especially coming from the man who held him trapped against his will. But somehow he was okay. Not perfect, but okay. Dick closed his eyes and eventually fell asleep; his dreams filled with the pleasant, happy moments he had spent with his friends.

ooOOOOOoo

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